#bucky barnes and the Smoulder

[abuckygirlarchive]

Bucky Barnes in Captain America: Sentinel of Liberty 

[lokisgoodgirl]

A Gentlemen's Agreement [Reader x Loki/Steve/Bucky]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: It's time for you to make up your mind. And the boys have just the plan to help you do that. (w/c 3.2k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smutty. Teasing. Sexual tension. Not a foursome. A/N: Loki is my king. I just needed to get this out thanks to @sidepartskinnyjeans

The click of Steve’s dress shoes echoed as he ushered you away from the busy ballroom of Stark’s county house. Your nerves were fizzing, but your face didn’t betray the flutter of excitement growing in your belly. In the darkness of the mahogany lined corridor, firelight licked from a solitary open doorway. A nod from the captain urged you silently inside. Walking into the room, your breath hitched. Whatever you had expected from his clandestine invitation in the crowd, this wasn’t it.

Steve circled around you, taking his place in the menacingly sensual line-up. There they stood in quiet stoicism, dressed in fitted finery – the trio of beneficiaries to your relentless flirtations. Their arms were folded, their legs wide in triangular determination. For the briefest of moments, you wondered how all of them had managed to excuse themselves from the party at once. But seeing the way they were taking up space, stretching the air with their achingly large egos, that question was quickly forgotten. Each was more breathtakingly handsome than the last. Rogers. Barnes. Laufeyson. “What is this?” you giggled nervously, snapping to each set of blue eyes in turn. They began to smirk in unison. You shivered despite the heat from the fire. “S’come to our attention you’ve been pulling the same tricks on all of us,” the winter soldier drawled, his accent thick with playful taunt. You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t know what you-” “Oh, I think you do, Agent,” Laufeyson hummed, tilting his head. Long fingers drummed on his bicep as he rocked on his heels. Roaring firelight was haloed behind the ebony mane that cascaded around the shoulders of a midnight-blue suit sitting snug to his body. You pressed your lips together, stifling a whimper. “Look fellas, she’s blushing," Steve teased. The three of them chuckled. “I don’t blush,” you snipped, folding your arms to match them. “And I’d appreciate if you could tell me why the three of you are lined up like...like…” The words you searched for ebbed as you readjusted your feet. It was all you could do not to go over on your ankle in these stupid heels. Heat was building between your thighs, the unmistakeable thump of arousal beating as your addled thoughts raced beneath their penetrating stares.

You knew exactly what Bucky meant. And now it seemed, so did they. You knew bending over to pick up that pen in front of all three of them yesterday was a bad idea. Although, no one in the world would blame you – working with three of the finest specimens of masculinity ever created. Had you gone out your way to tease and flirt with each one of them over the past several months? Possibly. But hey, it was good for morale. And besides, there wasn’t a hope in hell any of them would return your affections. Not serial-bed hopper Barnes, he didn’t fuck where he ate. Not tightly wound Rogers, you seriously doubted he’d approve of subordinate relations. And as for the ice king – you weren’t even sure he knew your name.

The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. God, you wished it wasn’t so hot. Your eyes searched the floor, hearing Loki clear his throat. “As Barnes noted, you have been toying with each of us in a manner both indecent and egregious these past months.” He let the rhetorical judgement marinate in silence before continuing. “Do you deny it?” You raised your eyes to his, seeing the embers of mischief smouldering within. “No,” you said confidently, as all three men cast conspiratorial glances to one another. Rogers balanced his elbow on a tight fist, raising his fingers to his chin. He narrowed his eyes. “That dress though fellas," he growled with uncharacteristic lust. "Have you ever seen such a thing?” Barnes snorted. “Forget two birds with one stone, that outfit takes out three cocks with one hit.” His blue eyes were dark in the low light, heavy brows shadowing the contours as his chin dipped. “An assassin, even off the clock.” he grit. “And she knows how much I love that neck.” While he was speaking, you instinctively brushed a strand hanging from your up-do away from the boatline collar of the dress. He was right. You did know. You had known ever since the first of his ragged breaths, tangible desire pulsing in his veins and stretching his trousers as he massaged your shoulders. The first time you had asked, he had thought you were joking. But every time you felt the cool flatness of his metal limb against your spine, steadying you as his fingers found every pocket of tension in your upper body – both you and he knew it was no laughing matter. Had you exaggerated the moans of pleasure his touch released? No. There had been no need. It felt fucking phenomenal. Orgasmic, even. And you hadn’t held them back. Your neck had extended to the side as his fingertips pulsed into the most delicate areas, breathy pants filling the air that you hoped made him think of how you would sound as he fucked you into the headboard. “And she knows how much I love those legs,” Steve smouldered, curling a finger against his lips as his gaze ran from your hips to the floor and back again. The dress stopped midway up your thighs, perfectly tight before the sheer drop of your limbs to the heels. You had caught him staring open-mouthed as you pulled yourself dripping wet from the ocean on a mission in the Seychelles months ago. His face had flushed as you’d clocked him running up your femurs, a bite of his lip betraying the base need boiling beneath an all-business exterior.

On every mission, you now made a point of elevating your leg as you snapped on the holsters, lunging forward against the nearest bench. Wall. Anything to drive him mad. You wondered how often he thought of your legs wrapped around his hips while his tactical suit lay strewn around his ankles. Without fail, his teeth always found their way to his bottom lip; a clench of his ass and a forbidden husk of ‘goddam’ under his breath making you smirk as you turned away. “And I think not that I need to point out what aspect of the offending garment is for me,” Loki purred, releasing the cross of his arms to fall behind his back in a ceremonial clasp. “It’s green," Bucky stated, licking his lips. “Yes," Loki replied in baritone, cheekbones sharpening. “It is.”

Loki. Now that was a story. Yes, you had felt the linger of his keen eyes on your ass. But who hadn’t. And yes, his gravelled pleasantries that always dripped a little closer than necessary into your ear were tempting. But the god was a walking temptation. It was his nature. He was indiscernible, a mystery. Aside from briefings, the longest you had ever spent in his company had been when he would extend his hand wordlessly on nights just like this, leading you the dance-floor. All onlookers would see was the standard wrapping of his arms around your waist, and yours over his shoulders. They did not see the small circles grazed on the nape of his neck beneath his curls, the half-innocent moans released by his ear when he brought you in from a spin. They did not see the lingering play of your fingers on the delicate skin of his wrists, the bite of your lip as Loki’s hips pressed into your stomach. A solitary flame in a sea of cold indifference. You’d take any heat from him could you get. They didn’t see his brows twitch as he registered the green lingerie down the carefully calculated neckline of your dress. Just for him. Your breathing had becoming shallow. Were you actually about to have all three of them at once? Was that even physically possible? Two super-soldiers and a god? You didn’t know if you would survive – but something told you it might be worth it. Positions and logistics raced through your mind, making you dizzy. You shook your head.

“OK you got me, I fancy all of you. So what? It’s just a bit of fun,” you gasped, running sweaty palms casually down the front of your dress. “The fellas and I have an idea, if you’re agreeable of course,” Steve said slowly, following Loki in clasping his hands behind his back. You squinted, congratulating yourself for encouraging the captain’s foray into unbuttoning the top of his shirts. His pulse was racing, you could see it pumping beneath his jawline. Bucky still stood with his arms loosely crossed over a waistcoat, the cotton of his thick white shirt bulging against metal and flesh. A sliver of steel glinted in the firelight, sleeves folded up to the elbows. He nodded once, without a flicker of a smile. Fuck, they all looked so good. “A gentlemen’s agreement, if you will,” Loki uttered, a smile curling on his lips. He’d been waiting to deliver that line, you could tell. “You like us. We like you. But we don’t share," Bucky glowered matter-of-factly. You could feel the thin fabric of your panties sticking to your lips, tacky and unbearably wet from this erotic ambush. “You don’t?” you quipped. “What a shame.” “We don’t," Steve repeated. “At least not ye-” he cast a glance to Bucky, before clearing his throat. “We think it’s important you uh...focus your attentions. If that’s what you wanna do.” A sudden thrill raced through your blood. The idea that they had planned this, that they had spoken about you in hushed whispers behind closed doors made your pussy hum with forbidden pleasures.

You wandered to the antique sofa to the side, feeling the heated stares of each of the men follow you. “What’s this gentleman’s agreement, then?” you purred, crossing your legs. Steve swallowed as the tight emerald fabric rode up your thigh. The god of mischief laughed softly, a deep sound which seemed to shake the room like bass.

“Each of us will kiss you, and then you must decide,” he said matter-of-factly. “The unsuccessful will respect your choice of victor and no retaliation will be made.” “Decide?” “Which of us to get to know better," Steve explained, shrugging off his suit jacket. He threw it gently over his shoulder, making it land on the back of a chair behind him with magnetic finesse. Bucky rolled his eyes. “I think what the captain’s tryna say is that we all wanna get to know you, better. So it’s lady’s choice,” he winked. You raised an eyebrow towards Loki. You couldn’t imagine him ever agreeing to something like this. A solitary nod was his only response, eyelashes fluttering down in a moment of panty-wetting reverence. “I accept,” you said slowly, running your eyes across the line-up. Their competitive sincerity was catching. You wet your lips in anticipation, still in disbelief that this was actually happening. Perhaps your corpse was lying strewn on the dance-floor, paramedics hoisting you onto a trolley in a body-bag. Perhaps this was heaven. And maybe it was the low lighting, or maybe it was the dancing shadows licking their wide bodies stacked with endless muscle. But you could swear that each and every one of them was hard. “As discussed. Thirty seconds,” Loki murmured coolly to the men standing to attention on his right, flourishing a hand. Barnes stepped forward, smoothing long strands of chestnut hair behind his ears.

“Alright,” he growled confidently, swaggering the several steps and planting onto the sofa beside you. His thighs spread against the antique furniture, flexing beneath the tight suit trousers as he twisted his torso to face you. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils, smoked wood and lingering sage like a wet autumn forest. His hand cupped your jawline, the steel arm resting on the back of the curved rest.

“Here goes nothin,” he whispered to himself, curled digits trailing longingly down the curve of your neck. They tugged at the neckline of your dress, slipping it over the curve. He leant forward, parted lips colliding with the crescent of your shoulder. Your eyelids fluttered closed, a staggered moan you didn’t realise was hiding released as he worked across your skin. His stubble tingled against the delicate surface, the flat of his nose slotting beneath your ear as his kisses became hungrier against your pulse point. Less delicate. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, darlin',” he rasped, before licking licentiously from the base of your throat to the angle of your jaw. In seconds, his mouth was pressed to yours; tongue eagerly flicking against your lips before you let him enter. Bucky’s moan was dynamite, fingers guiding your chin as he devoured you in targeted desire. He leant you backwards into the cushions while your arm instinctually slid between his shoulder-blades, pulling him closer. Barnes groaned as his hand slid covetously from your waist and up the curve of your breasts, before burrowing deep into your bun. He thrust gruffly against you on instinct, something thick and menacingly primal dragging against your thigh. The feeling of his fingers tugging at your scalp sent your heat into overdrive, clenching desperately around air. “Time,” Loki purred calmly. Stubble scratched a final time, your hand flying to rest on his metal arm as you breathlessly broke apart with a whimper. Barnes winked, the skin surrounding his mouth pink as he rose and re-joined the other two. You cast glances between them while your chest heaved.

“Do you need a moment?” Steve inquired politely, folding the sleeves of his shirt up further. You watched the veins in his muscled forearms tighten with the movement, the slight bend of his knees as he gave a deferential cough. As if he’s preparing for a fight, you thought as your head continued to spin from Bucky’s kiss. “No, I’m good,” you slurred, smiling as you straightened and patting the sofa beside you. “I prefer it standing, if that’s alright,” Steve said tentatively, brow twitching in mild alarm as he saw your eyes widen. But he didn’t retract it. Standing obediently, it suddenly occurred to you that a kiss on the hand would be very on brand for him, perhaps rethinking his part in this atypical charade. But Steve paced towards you, looking as determined as he did striding down the ramp of the quinjet. Your breath hitched as the captain’s hands cupped your face, walking you expertly back towards the walled bookcase. A shelf pressed against your spine while Rogers bore down, his gentle tongue nudging at your lips; and with a whimper, he breached. The warmth of the muscle caressing your own made your knees wobble. Hard, rippling abdominals pressed flush against your chest, pinning you softly beneath Keats and Wordsworth while his hands began to smooth over your shoulders, over your waist. You felt like the poets would approve. Steve moaned into your mouth as his palms slid possessively down your thighs, grunting as he whipped them forwards effortlessly around his waist. You yelped in surprise before his lips swallowed yours again, ankles crossing around taut hips. The heat from his skin warmed the scent of ginger wafting from the base of his collarbone, its spice firing in your nostrils. The kiss was hungry and desperate and wild. You could feel his solid cock rubbing against your stomach, tasting every inch of your passion as his fingertips dug into the soft flesh beneath your ass. He thrust softly with every wax and wane of his jaw, needy fingers running through his newly mussed golden hair. You pulled greedily before there was a soft clear of someone’s throat. It sounded like Loki. “Time,” Bucky barked, and reluctantly, Steve returned you to the ground. Still in a daze, and with palms spread against the bookcase, your eyes fell on the final figure. “Believe me…” Loki purred condescendingly, “you’ll wish to sit down for this.”

With shaking steps you teetered to the sofa, plonking down with a sharp intake of breath. Loki glided towards you, elegantly manoeuvring his long limbs aside your own. He brought a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back. “You are so beautiful.” he murmured, before pressing in to a firm, chaste kiss. One of your hands flew to his thigh, running your palm over the hard, forbidden mass concealed tight and thick beneath the cotton. You desperately keened into him, tongue searching against closed lips. Loki withdrew with a chuckle, sweeping the hair from one side of his head. “If you wish me to stop, tell me,” he whispered hot in your ear, a wave of amber and spices and decadence filling your senses before he slipped from the sofa to his knees. Your eyes widened as he gently spread your legs. “The rules did not specify where I could kiss you.” he explained softly, pre-empting the questioning thrill lighting your eyes. Disgruntled huffs from Bucky and Rogers barely registered as you felt a cool tingle of the god’s magic dissolve your favourite underwear.

Loki’s smouldering gaze latched to yours, lust-drunk and determined, before it fell to the glistening mess at his eye level. “Do you consent to my audition?” he hummed, tentatively pushing the sides of your dress to the tops of your thighs. Your stare flickered to Steve and Bucky, suspiciously observing Loki on his knees with pure jealousy. "Yes," you heard yourself murmur under your breath. Fresh arousal was seeping from your centre, spreading down your heated skin. You had never wanted anything more. "Louder, please," Loki smirked, the curve of his fingers fastened to your knees. “Yes, Loki...g-god-” you gasped, brow furrowing as you urged him on with a tilt.

Immediately, his tongue licked a wide, earth-shattering stripe up your slit from base to tip. Your head fell back with a rattling moan, one hand combing through his hair as the other gripped the armrest. Loki quickly moved your legs over his shoulders, sliding you further back. The god’s open mouth latched to your swollen clit, sucking and lapping lower with sinful precision. All you could see was his dark curls and proud brow, the sight of the god buried between your open thighs making reality blur. Every caress made your hips thrust further into his mouth, shaking breaths shuddering your body as he moaned against your wet heat. The noises he made were utter devastation, muffled pants and enthusiastic slurps sounding between your splayed legs as he ate you out like a starving man. Behind your eyelids, you could feel the covetous gazes of the two soldiers rolling over your body as Laufeyson’s fingertips dug into your calves like a hunter. “T-time,” Steve choked. “No!” you gasped, pawing at Loki’s cheek in despair. The god smiled, chin glistening while closing your trembling knees in a move that could only be described as gentlemanly. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, unfurling and retreating backwards to the line-up with his arms spread in a show of feigned innocence. You panted, gathering your thoughts as your gaze landed on each of them in turn. “Lady’s choice,” Bucky re-iterated gruffly, widening his legs. Beside him, the captain’s fingers rested wide on his hips, biting his lip while his eyes lingered on the fresh sheen of sweat clinging to your legs. Loki raised a finger absent-mindedly to the corner of his mouth, brushing the edge before sucking it clean to the second knuckle. His eyes smouldered, fixed on you, the flicker of firelight casting deep shadows in hollowed cheekbones. You took a deep breath, the only name it was ever going to be dancing on the tip of your tongue.

🤷‍♂️ For those who want a bit...more - A Gentlemen's Bond is the follow up to this.

Tags @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @psychospore @littlespaceyelf

[stuckysbike]

I’ll Be Your Prize 2

A/n: All mistakes are my own. Written on my phone.

Bucky x Reader

AU: Bucky returns the favour with a surprise for you but it backfires.

Warnings: friends with benefits situation, idiots in love, presumed unrequited love. Sharon is a bitch (never meet your heros).

Part 1

“Oh my god I love her,” you clapped your hands.

“I know,” Bucky was smug, his eyes twinkling as he rested his socked feet on your coffee table. He looked good relaxing in your home, and it was moments like this that you almost asked him to stay.

“Can I come?” You hesitated.

“That’s why I’m here Doll,” he said squeezing your hand. “I knew you’d maim me if I didn’t bring you along.”

“And you’re in her music video?” You asked as you got comfortable on the sofa next to him. You rested your feet on his lap and he tugged playfully on your toes.

“Yeah, I don’t know much about it, Sam never consults me on stuff like this he just agrees with everything then sends me along,” Bucky said but he wasn’t annoyed. Sam Wilson was an amazing agent and a close personal friend.

“I can’t believe I’m going to meet Sharon Carter, I’m so excited,” you giggled again as you sipped your wine.

—————

The warehouse Bucky pulled up to was a hive of activity; there was so much to see that you almost tripped as you followed him inside.

Sharon was in the middle of it all, a tiny dress and towering heels making her stand out. She looked beautiful and you admired her good looks as you approached.

“You’re late,” Sam grumbled to Bucky.

“Sorry,” Bucky didn’t sound sorry at all. “Almost ran out of hot water.” He winked at you as he spoke and you giggled fondly, thinking back to the extra long shower you had shared.

“You must be Bucky!” It was Sharon making her way over to him, the heels bringing her close to his height.

“At your service,” his big hand dwarfed hers.

“I’m so excited to work with you,” Sharon said with a grin and a flutter of her eyelashes. Their eyes lingered, and Bucky’s lips curved up.

Your heart stuttered, suddenly you regretted being here and seeing this. They clearly had chemistry and you knew that once again you were going to be the girl on the sidelines, quite literally.

“Mr Barnes dressing room is this way,” and just like that he was pulled away with Sharon going back to the set. You hovered next to Sam for a moment feeling ignored and out of place.

“What now?” You asked, trying to cover the wobble in your voice.

“We just watch I guess,” Sam shrugged but he was already tapping furiously on his phone and you stood feeling lost.

—————

In the video, Sharon was to be a ring girl, and Bucky was the boxer. Cliche but believable you guessed, you were sure a few of the notches on his belt came from the scantily clad women who paraded the ring between rounds.

Sharon looked stunning as she posed for the camera, singing and pouting and Bucky looked like he’d already went a few rounds with an opponent. His chest was gleaming, the oil making the black of his tattoos stand out, and his silk shorts matched Sharon’s dress. You had to admit they looked good together. The perfect celebrity couple.

They were having a lot of fun, laughing between takes and sharing smouldering looks when the camera was on them. They shared flirty touches and suggestive smirks.

The video ended with him grabbing her and pulling her into a fiery and passionate kiss. Watching from the sidelines your chest burned, and you could barely look at them together. Everyone around you was discussing their chemistry and how they expected them to be a couple within weeks, how good it would be for the sales of the single, the new album and the upcoming tour.

“He could join her for part of it, come out on stage for this song, be part of the routine,” one of Sharon’s assistants was saying to Sam.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Sam held his hands up but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. He looked at you with a frustrated roll of the eyes and you shrugged sympathetically.

“It’s a wrap!” Someone shouted and you watched Bucky get out of the ring then easily lift Sharon down. He held her hand, pulling her behind him excitedly as they walked over to where you stood clearly eager to introduce you but all you wanted to do was run away and hide. This was turning out to be the worst day of your life.

Bucky introduced Sharon to Sam but she barely looked his way, her eyes on Bucky. And then he pulled her towards you with a pleased grin on his face. “And this is my best friend.”

You heard your name fall from his lips but your ears were too busy ringing with the words “best friend”. Your heart fractured on the spot, you swore you were bleeding out, the damage irreparable. You were his best friend. Nothing more. That was it.

Sharon was looking your way now, her eyes roaming your body critically. You tried to act casual in your favourite faded jeans and scruffy Converse, “You must be a good friend to stand idly by all day doing nothing while Bucky works.”

“She’s the best,” Bucky grinned reaching out to pull you into a side hug, but you flinched away, and his eyes flickered in concern. “Are you ok?” He mouthed and you nodded in response. Luckily he seemed content to drop it.

“I’m going to go change, you’re coming to the party right?” Sharon said to Bucky with a coy smile as she rested her hand on his chest.

“Wouldn’t miss it, you’ll come too won’t you,” Bucky looked at you. You just nodded, not trusting your voice. He had told you to bring along a party dress earlier as you left your place.

“It’ll probably be more standing around for her,” Sharon said pointedly to Bucky.

“Sugarplum is a big fan of yours,” Bucky added. You could hear the fondness in his voice and you wished it meant more.

“Awww that’s cute, explains why you stood around all day waiting for a friend,” she simpered at you. Her smile was forced.

You just nodded in agreement but you liked this woman less and less. In fact you were beginning to hate her.

“Make sure to buy my album, and my single,” she said walking away with a sway to her hips. “I need to pay the bills somehow.”

Her belittling tone reddened your cheeks but Bucky was laughing. You glanced up at him but his face was unreadable as he watched Sharon go. You followed his gaze and couldn’t help but notice how good Sharon looked from behind. Of course he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“It has been a long day for you, let’s get changed and we’ll head to the party yeah?” Bucky’s brilliant blues were back on you. “Have some fun.”

“Sounds good,” you huffed out. He winked and walked off in the direction of the dressing rooms.

—————

The party was in full swing and you were sipping a glass of champagne when Sharon turned up almost two hours late and looking stunning.

You looked down at your dress, a favourite of yours. Bucky had always admired it, teased it went with the carpet in his bedroom. Bucky’s arm was around your waist, his fingers teasing little patterns on your hip as you chatted. You’d almost forgotten your day but with Sharon’s appearance it had all come crashing down.

Sharon made a beeline for Bucky, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from you.

“You don’t mind if I dance with your friend do you?” She called over her shoulder. You shook your head, you had already lost him and you knew it. There was no point in fighting it.

Bucky followed her like a lamb and you drained your glass and turned away from the sight. This would be the last time you were a third wheel or a bit on the side for him.

You loved Bucky you truly did, but you could no longer take the heartbreak. You needed a clean split, you decided or you’d go insane watching him and Sharon together. The best thing you could do now was slip away and let them get to know each other.

At the door you paused and looked back, finding Bucky easily. His eyes were locked on Sharon’s face as they stood at the edge of the dance floor and you turned, leaving the party.

“Heading off?” A voice startled you and you looked up to find Steve, Bucky’s best friend.

“You know what they say, threes a crowd and all that,” you shrugged.

Steve glanced towards Bucky and you saw a small tick in his jaw. He went to step into the party but you placed a hand on his chest. “Can you take me home. I rode with Bucky and I hate taking Ubers alone.”

Still protecting Bucky, his feelings and his reputation even when he’d forgotten about you. You were a fool and you needed to grow up.

By the time you got home you had a plan, and despite how drained you felt you started gathering all the bits and pieces of Bucky that had infiltrated your home.

His spare clothes from your drawers, wash products from the bathroom and books and trinkets that were in the living room all went into a bag. He had protein powders in the kitchen and a leather jacket hung on your coat rack with a pair of boots and trainers below.

It took an hour and afterwards you felt empty. Your home had gaps, you could already see them, but you didn’t have the heart to care so you changed, got into bed hugged your favourite plushie to your chest and pulled your duvet over your head.

—————

Sharon was an asshole, and Bucky regretted introducing you to her.

“I think you’re passing up a great publicity opportunity,” Sharon said. “You’ll not be a boxer forever and besides, it’ll only be short term. A year we’ll be together.”

Bucky examined her, this confident woman who was used to getting what she wanted. “You want us to fake date for a year?” He asked.

Instead of dancing Bucky had pulled her aside to talk, to say thanks but no thanks. Sharon was counter offering his rejection as if this were open for debate.

“No silly we’ll date. We can go on holiday and make public appearances, we’ll be a real couple,” she said slapping his chest. “Have real sex.”

“I don’t think that’s something I want to do,” Bucky said as he removed her hand.

“Think of your future. Your career. I’m about to be in a movie Bucky, I can get you a part and you won’t have to worry about your income drying up when you retire,” Sharon said. “You were a natural in my video.”

“Look, I’m flattered and you’re hot but I don’t feel that way. I love her,” Bucky said. He longed to go back to you, take you home. He was going to tell you tonight.

“Oh please, if you officially date her the press will tear her to shreds. Face it Bucky, she’s punching well above her weight when it comes to you,” Sharon looked into his eyes, searching his face.

“You know, I think she’s stunning. The girl you saw today was the woman I love, she‘s good and kind and I’ve not always been careful of her feelings but listening to you just know I know one thing for certain. There isn’t anyone else I’d rather spend my life with,” Bucky turned but Sharon’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“If she’s such a good friend, then why haven’t you noticed she’s been gone since I arrived? Went off with some tall blond beefcake,” Sharon’s smile was smug.

Bucky frowned. “Beard, long hair, blue eyes?”

Sharon nodded.

“Yeah that’s Sam’s husband Steve,” Bucky said as he headed to where Sam stood talking to a group of girls. “I’m going home Pal.”

“Smartest choice you made since hiring me,” Sam said.

—————

You found sleep impossible but the tears came easy. You laid with the pillow Bucky used last night in your arms and wept bitterly.

You didn’t hear your front door or footsteps coming up your stairs, but the bedroom door squeaked softly as it eased open.

You sat up startled and ready to scream for help and then you recognised the hair and beefy shoulders.

It was Bucky.

“I can’t right now Buck,” you said as you laid down.

“You kicking me out Sugarplum?” Bucky rasped.

Your heart clenched. “I can’t keep doing this,” you admitted.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise,” Bucky said as he stepped into the room. You noticed he’d taken his shoes off.

You smiled sadly. “I guess I was just happy I was getting something, but it’s not enough anymore.”

“I get it,” Bucky said sitting on the edge of the bed. “I realised something else though.”

“Do I want to know?” You whispered, feeling brave. You peered up at him, from this angle he looked tired and you wanted nothing more than to pull him in bedside you.

“I want you to know. Sharon asked me to be her boyfriend, told me her plans for the rest of the year for she and I.”

“Oh,” you bit the inside of your cheek. You didn’t want to know any more and you shifted away but Bucky reached for you.

“She assumed I wouldn’t say no, just like I assume you’ll be there every time I need you,” Bucky’s hand cupped your cheek, his eyes searched yours. “I need you all the damn time Doll.”

“I can’t-“

“I love you, been in love with you since forever, but our lives are so different that I thought you wouldn’t want to be in mine full time,” Bucky searched your face but you were too shocked to respond. “I know I’ll never be good enough but I want a chance to do my best to make you happy.”

“Not good enough?” You sat up. “What in hell gave you that idea?”

He shook his head and it was your turn to cup his cheek. He shook his head again, turning his face into your hand to kiss your wrist and you tabled it for now but you would press this later. You’d never meant to hurt him, you loved him from the moment you met him. “Tell me what you want?”

“I want you on press tours and at training camps and Christ even at shitty promotional activities like music videos for spoiled singers with no manners or respect for their fans.”

“I don’t understand,” you said.

“Marry me,” Bucky said. “Be my wife.”

“Bucky!” You gaped. Bucky took your hands. “We haven’t even- we can’t- I don’t- how?”

“We’ve been doing this dance for years now, pulling away from each other then tumbling back together. When I’m with you it feels right. You treat me good, so damn good and I haven’t always done right by you. That’s going to change.”

You launched yourself into his arms and he laughed as he caught you pressing kissed to your face.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Bucky grinned and rolled you onto your back, his lips attaching to your neck.

“But…” you sighed.

“But? But what? No but’s Baby!”

“But I think we should abstain from sex, until we’re married,” you teased. It started as a joke but the look on Bucky’s face had you giggling internally. “We have a lot of talking to do, years worth to catch up on.”

“You’re right. Let’s talk.”

[bobgasm]

lieutenant smoulder [08/15]

pairing: bucky barnes x reader word count: 2258 warnings: mentions of periods/menstrual cycles, allusion to pregnancy, a bombshell of a secret, angst

prompt: “i was made for you”

summary: in which they put aside any previous issues to tackle the next obstacle

author’s note: wow, been a minute, huh?

glow | lieutenant smoulder | inferno

Y/N hated that she’d noticed, but the couple of times where she’s stayed at Bucky’s the previous night, he’d left in a rush. She also hated that she knew this morning he’d slept in and hadn’t gone anywhere.

Pushing that aside, she got up and threw his t-shirt over her head so she could make breakfast. Flicking the radio on to hear some catchy pop song and opening a window to let some fresh air in.

Their shift started in just over an hour, so she brewed up a pot of coffee and started making some bacon and eggs. She was starving, and knew leftover birthday cake wasn’t a substantial enough breakfast.

She wasn’t sure how long Bucky had been awake and watching her dance around the kitchen, but he seemed to be enjoying the show.

“Uh, I made food,” she said, gesturing to the plates on the counter in front of her.

He thanked her with a brief kiss and sat up at the breakfast bar to eat. She slid a mug of coffee over to him and picked at the last of her eggs.

“I need a shower before work,” she announced.

“I’ll let myself out,” he told her. “Thanks for breakfast.”

She slipped out of his shirt and left it on the counter beside him, well aware he was watching her as she walked to the bathroom. 

+++

Y/N couldn’t explain it, but she’d felt something shift. Her relationship with Bucky – if you could call it such – had changed and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. There was something he was hiding and she didn’t like the jealous feeling that sat in the pit of her stomach.

“You any good at poker?” Romanoff asked as Y/N joined the crew in the mess.

She’d been busy in the gym for the past hour, trying to work her frustrations out in a more productive way. Freshly showered and ready for a quiet evening after a couple of calls throughout the afternoon. There hadn’t been anything major, so everyone was busy lounging around and enjoying the downtime.

Romanoff, Barnes, Wilson, Hill and Banner were playing poker. Someone was making dinner, but she forgot who’s night it was.

“Eh, I’ve played before,” she confessed. “Not sure if I’m any good, though.”

Romanoff dealt her in and she took a seat beside Banner, opposite Hill.

The basics were explained to her as they played a dummy round, just so she could get the hang of everything. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but they were betting peanuts rather than money, so she didn’t care if she won or lost. 

Bruce was quite obviously good, but it was Romanoff and Barnes’ poker faces that threw Y/N a bit. Hill looked like she’s rather be anywhere else but playing, and Wilson kept the banter high. He did his best to make the stone cold duo crack, and while Barnes did occasionally laugh, he was right back to being unreadable.

Y/N had seen that face the previous two mornings when he’d left without so much as a reason. She tried not to let it bother her, but it did, and she wasn’t sure why. 

“Hey, you’ve been kind of off for the last couple weeks. Everything okay?” Romanoff asked. It’d been a while since she’d found herself alone in the red-head’s company, but as they stripped the linen from the beds to do laundry, Y/N almost appreciated the check-in. 

“Yeah, just have a bit on my mind, is all,” she admitted half-heartedly.

“Doesn’t have anything to do with the guy who left the gnarly bruise on your neck after your birthday, does it?”

Y/N laughed as she folded the fitted sheet around the bed in front of her. “It plays a small part, I guess.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Natasha left the question hanging in the air between them, letting Y/N decide whether she wanted to chat or not. After a while, once the bed Y/N had been remaking was finished, she sighed. 

“I think he’s hiding something from me,” she admitted. “He’s always quick to make an exit and constantly telling me he’s having dinner with his Mom, or they get coffee every morning, blah blah. I just can’t help but feel like he’s lying about something.”

Natasha hummed. “Have you asked him about it?”

“We don’t have that kind of relationship,” she said. “I don’t want to come across as jealous or possessive, but if there’s someone else, I’d like to know, you know?”

“Do you want my advice or do you just want to vent?”

“Advice.”

“I think it’s wise to confront him. If it’s just sex between the two of you, you have a right to know if he’s sleeping around with other women. If it was me, I wouldn’t want to see him if he didn’t wear protection. But on the other hand, maybe he is being honest. He could just be a total Mama’s boy.”

Y/N snorted in laughter. “You want to know the kicker, Nat?”

“Hit me,”

“We didn’t use a condom once, and ever since, he’s been insistent on using them,” Y/N said. “And I didn’t fight it, just because I don’t want some other woman’s STD. Last time we had this arrangement neither of us even thought about condoms. That’s what makes me think there’s someone else.”

“It sounds like you need to decide if you want to keep having sex with him, or sit him down and find out what he isn’t telling you,” Natasha said. “If it was me…I wouldn’t have sex with him again until he told me.”

“He’s been busy these last couple weeks,” Y/N said. “Since my birthday…he’s been weird. ‘We can’t see each other tonight, I’m out of town,’ or ‘I can be there in three hours.’ Like, if you don’t want to keep this going then just tell me. I’m a big girl, I can handle it. I just feel like I’m going crazy.”

“You’re not going crazy,” Natasha assured her. “He’s making excuses.”

“And if he is sleeping with other women, do I want him in my bed three hours after he’s likely been in her bed?”

“He sounds like trouble.”

You have no idea.

Y/N sighed, running a hand over her face. “Too much trouble for it to just be sex, right?”

“I didn’t say that,” she replied. “Only you know what you want the outcome to be. Just have to decide whether confronting him about his lies is worth losing the thing you have if you don’t like the answer.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Nat.”

Y/N hauled a bag of washing down to the laundry room, needing a moment of silence to think things through. Natasha had a look about her, something she couldn’t quite read. Like she knew something Y/N didn’t, or maybe she was truly clueless and was trying to imagine herself in Y/N’s shoes.

“There’s more going on, isn’t there?” Natasha asked.

As she entered the laundry room with another bag of washing, she found Y/N leaning against the machine with her head lowered.

“I’m late, Nat. Him being weird about the condoms and his general behavior lately…I feel sick.”

Natasha didn’t get a chance to reply, because Wilson was hollering that dinner was ready. She gave Y/N a sympathetic look, but didn’t press the issue as she started angrily throwing sheets into one of the machines. Simply placing a friendly hand on her shoulder and leaving her alone. 

Y/N would be lying if she said she didn’t shed a couple tears, but she was quick to gather herself before plastering on a happy face and joining the team for dinner. Sam had made one of his family’s recipes, and the smell alone made her salivate.

Even if the thought of eating anything made her sick to her stomach.

She dished herself up a small plate, but grabbed a bottle of water as well. Taking a seat beside Bruce, far away from Bucky. Aware that the motion didn’t go undetected from the latter, but forcing herself to eat despite not feeling hungry.

+++

A quiet night was needed, but it wasn’t likely. The siren rang out a little after nine – a candle had caught the shower curtain alight while its owner fell asleep in the bathtub. They required some minor medical attention, and the bathroom was worse for wear, but they’d be okay. It was a good outcome all things considered. 

Y/N was getting a bottle of water from the kitchen when Bucky cornered her. She’d been avoiding him and it was obvious he was here to address that. Even if he had waited until the shift was almost over, while everyone else was asleep in the bunk room. 

“What crawled up your ass and died?” He asked. 

Sure, he could’ve gone about it better, but this was the safest way to communicate. Snippy comments and sarcastic remarks were her M.O. He was trying to make her comfortable to have this conversation while at work.

“Not in the mood today, Barnes,” she replied with a sigh.

He took a moment to stare her down, really look at her. It’d been a couple days since he’d stayed over after her birthday, but she looked exhausted. Dark circles had made themselves at home under her eyes, her brows seemed to be set in a permanent frown, and her attitude had been less than that of a team-player.

While Y/N was still alternating who took the lead on calls, she’d barely spoken to him unless absolutely necessary. Even his smart-ass jabs hadn’t been enough to warrant a retort. 

“Anything I can help with?” He pressed. 

“You’ve done enough,” she stated, letting the words settle between them. 

“So you’re mad at me? That’s new.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he turned away.

“Get fucked, Barnes.”

“Are you on your period or something?” He snapped. “Because you’re never this much of a cunt without good reason.”

“Fuck you,” she spat. “I’m allowed to be pissed off without anyone questioning my menstrual cycle. But between you and me? I’m late.”

She was glad she whispered the last part, because it really drove home her point. His eyes widened ever-so-slightly, mouth opening to say something but ultimately deciding against it.

“I’ll pee on a damn stick within the hour. I don’t need you to hold my hand. I don’t need you to do anything, except leave me the fuck alone. Are we clear?”

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The first tear fell before she had the chance to swipe it away, and he was quick to wrap his arms around her.

“Let me go.”

“I can’t do that,” he replied, holding her tight as her tears began to soak his shirt. She hated feeling weak, but she hated it even more than he was the one seeing her like this. That he had played a potential role in this situation. “It could just be late.”

“Stop talking,” she shushed him, not wanting to hear any words of comfort from him. The thought had already crossed her mind, but her cycle was like clockwork. She were late, it was as simple as that. 

When the siren blared out, she pulled away from him and quickly wiped her face as she raced to the gear room, listening to where the call was coming from. Her heart sank to the pit of your stomach as she pulled on her turnouts, watching everyone else doing the same.

“That’s a school,” someone said. She honestly had no idea who said it because she was climbing into the rig and putting on her best game face. 

Barnes took his seat opposite her, his face riddled with worry as Captain Wilson relayed the information of the call.

“Fire alarm is going off at an elementary school. No news yet where the fire is, but most of the school has been evacuated. There will be parents going crazy trying to find their kids since it’s about time for school drop-off. We do not need them playing the hero and running into a burning building, copy?”

There was a chorus of ‘yes, sir’s that rang out, but Y/N’s eyes were locked on Bucky. Bucky, who usually kept his face blank when calls like this came in. Bucky, who would joke and keep morale up, was eerily quiet.

It worried her.

When they arrived at the school, she looked at him to run point.

He had eyes for no one but her.

“I need you to take this call, Y/L/N,” he said, voice thick and gravelly. He looked spooked. “I can’t go in there.”

“What? Barnes, it’s all hands on deck! Get your fucking head in the game!” She snapped.

“You’re running point because my son is in there!” He yelled back, running a hand over his face. “Please, my son is in there.”

She squared her shoulders, pushing aside any fear she had. Any doubt she had behind why he’d frozen. 

He had a son. A son he’d literally only just told her about. A son. 

“I’ve got him, Barnes,” she assured him, holding out her fist. He needed to bump it – it was good luck. A promise. She would do everything she could to make sure his boy was safe.

When his fist touched hers, she nodded and turned to face her team. 

[frostironfudge]

Silhouettes In the Spotlight - Bucky Barnes - Fourteen

Summary: Bucky Barnes has worked immensely hard to have a filmography expanding across genres and garnering accolades from critics, peers and fans. Y/N Y/L/N, with her debut novel (fan-fiction turned New York Times Bestseller) has two other best sellers under her belt. Next is her highly anticipated fourth book lined up for release. SHEILD Productions has acquired the film rights to her debut novel and they want Bucky Barnes to play the lead (aka himself) by any means necessary. This story is about angst, lust, heartbreak, and love. After all fairytales only exist in books and movies right?

Warnings: fluff, angst, insulting language to the reader by a secondary character, alexander pierce is still a shit head he doesn't understand personal space, SA mentioned not described, drugs mentioned not consumed, entertainment industry language (basically misleading way of delivering news), slight amount of smut, dirty talking, legal stuff being spoken about, fbi workings. reader has alot of anxiety described through this chapter at various points.

Pairing: Actor!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.6k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || AO3 || Fic Playlist

Chapter Thirteen || Chapter Fifteen

HEADLINES:

Fan’s excitement for book announcement turns sour, watch Y/N Y/L/N Take Control Of The Situation, We Stan A Powerful Woman

Fans Praise Steve Rogers Standing Up For Y/N 

Smouldering Hot Dolores Sets The Runway On Fire While Walking For Best Friend's Brand

Loki and Ace Are They A Thing? When Will They Admit To Their Hidden Romance? 

Bucky Barnes and Y/N Share An Intimate Moment Amidst Chaos, Five Times These Two Were Bestie Goals.

Bucky watches from the sidelines of the lit fest. The auditorium brimmed with excitement. He wondered if this is how you felt during the cast reveal for your previous books. Pride weaves into his bones as you step out on stage, massive applause breaks out and he can’t help but wolf-whistle as well. 

You’re his girl and he would be damned if he didn’t come out to support you. He has to bite his lip before he moans seeing your outfit, yet again. The way the suit pants cling to your ass has his own tightening. 

Flashes of this morning coax his mind, your hands in his hair tugging him closer and pushing him away. The taste of you on his tongue. Fuck he needs to remain between your legs for days before he can satieate himself. 

Your eyes find him just as he licks his bottom lip. Heat pools in your belly at the thought of Bucky on his knees, licking the remnants of you from his lips, his stubble glistening. 

He smirks at you as he watches the slight shift in your demeanour. He knows you’re thinking about this morning as well. 

“Oh my god.” He hears a voice exclaim, “That's! That's Bucky!” 

He turns his head around, sure enough a few seats down they raise their phones for a picture. 

“Hey could you hold off on posting that? I’m here to support her.” He calls over the voices that are slowly going down in decibel. 

They nod he knows it's a long shot but he has to take it, today was about you. To an extent Steve as well, given he was on the panel from HYDRA’s Publication House too. 

Steve walks out next waving at the crowd, the cheers are deafening, flashes of the cameras ensue. He comes over smiling and hugs you. 

The host gestures for the two of you to take your seats.  

Yelena sits next to Bucky, Angel next to her. 

After what Bucky had said to Yelena she hadn’t spoken to him more than required. However she was speaking a little more to you, which he appreciated. 

The crowd begins to settle into silence as the crew checks for the mics and hands one each to Steve and you. 

“Welcome Everyone!” The host cheers, “I’m Peter Quill, your host for this fine evening in literature. Though as an entertainment presenter I may not be qualified.” The crowd laughs, Peter grins. 

“Now I can, however, ask right off the bat if these two have been having fun filming, I Think I Met You In My Dreams Once.” 

The crowd cheers again, Steve laughs and you chuckle. Both smiling at the crowd. 

“Are you having fun on the film set? Ms. Executive Producer?” Steve teases, you roll your eyes at him. 

“When you aren’t taking too long in hair and make up, yes.” 

“Hey, I’ve got to look great to bring your character to life.” Steve defends, raising a brow in challenge.  

“You’re right, Beck did have his hair blow dried and then a pommade made with more spray to hold.” Your deadpan delivery makes Bucky laugh, Steve always was the worst when it came to his meticulous hair process. No matter the role this was always the case. 

Steve rolls his eyes, “It’s all good fun.” He says with a smile. 

The two of you turn back to Peter. 

“Now, Y/N we heard some news that you broke Steve’s heart.” Peter tilts his head and gives you a knowing look. 

“Oh yeah, he’s upset that my new book doesn’t have a character inspired by him.” You explain. 

“I don’t wike it.” Steve pouts like a kid, slapping his hand on his thigh. 

“Oh you know what I meant you smart lady.” Peter points a finger between the two of you. 

Steve shakes his head, “Honestly man, let it go. We’re here to talk about books.” 

“Right, right.” Peter shuffles through the cue cards. 

Steve looks at you, you smile at him. Then your gaze shifts to Bucky. He smiles at you. Seeing him there cheering you on makes you beam brighter. Happiness coursing through you at having a partner support your endeavours so wholeheartedly. 

“So Steve, do you plan to return to writing? Maybe a joint venture?” Peter gives yet another speculative look. 

“Hmm maybe I could, you never know I do have one more book in my contract. I wonder if a murder mystery would be fun. Would you all read it? Though I mean I’d have to ask our favourite author for tips.” Steve looks at you then at the crowd they cheer in agreement. 

“Murder mystery and fun?” Peter shudders, “I don’t know why chicks dig that.” 

“Are you critiquing reading preferences, Quill?” Steve tuts, “in a room full of readers and writers established and budding. Damn.” 

You shake your head disappointed at the judgement rolling off in waves from Quill. 

“Oh come on you gotta think it's a little messed up.” He defends. 

A chorus of boos ring. 

“Depends on what morals you follow.” You chuckle when you hear a hoot, “Morally grey tends to be a favourite colour.” 

“Rhys Bass! Baby!!!” A person calls out and everyone cheers. 

“Llyod Hansen!” Another person exclaims. 

Steve laughs, “I wouldn’t know where to place Llyod.” 

“Oh trust me, we do.” You answer on behalf of everyone. 

Bucky chuckles, Yelena looks at him. 

“Are you on the spectrum of morally dark colours?” She whispers. 

“Don’t think I am.” He laughs again. 

The interview goes on, the questions get directed more towards Steve. Quill shoots the random question to you but they aren’t about your book. 

Bucky’s hands are tight fists on his knees. What kind of blatant disrespect was going on?

Yelena sighs disappointed at the yet again horrible question,

‘Did you write the books because you felt sad you never had a long term boyfriend?’ 

‘How are the sex scenes so vivid?’ 

Bucky’s texting Sam, he wants to know everything there is to know about Peter Quill. 

“So Y/N, tell us, do you feel insecure about a woman like you being given such a huge platform for your book? I mean you clearly knew what would sell and from having a plus sized character to instead having smoking hot Dolores playing—,”

“I want to stop you right there.” You raise your hand to gesture Peter to shut the fuck up, “Your questions are highly disrespectful, yes multiple of them are disrespectful. Look around this room, genuinely, everyone here is from different backgrounds, cultures and sizes. You don’t get to sit there and make comments or assumptions based on how I look. Also, there is more to Dolores than her looks.” 

“Now you’re being rude, sweetheart, I’m just asking you simple questions.” Peter chastises, “It should be easy to answer.”

Bucky stands up, “And you’re an absolute gaslighting fucker.” He calls out. 

“Bucky Barnes?” Quill laughs, “Nice to see you man.” 

You shake your head, Steve looks at you then Bucky, finally to you. 

“Do you want to punch him or should I?” Steve rhetorically speaks while standing, rolling back his sleeves. 

“No, actually none of it. Everyone, I'm terribly upset that this event probably didn’t go as you wanted. I had big news I wanted to share but it seems Peter Quill can’t leave his investigative, intrusive, entertainment roots. Anyways to save Peter the trouble—,”

“Y/N.” Gidieon Mallick walks on stage cutting you off. 

You look at him. 

“Mr. Quill, please leave the stage. You’ve done horribly and not followed our given cue cards at all. Blatantly, disrespected one of our most prestigious authors. Ms. Y/N please be assured that you will be receiving an apology from him. Everyone, we will be taking a short break.” He announces, gesturing with his palm he asks you and Steve to follow him. 

The two of you follow and the crowd breaks out into chatter, Bucky, Yelena and Angel head out towards the two of you. 

You’re biting on your tongue while Gideon reprimands the interns and Peter Quill. 

Bucky catches the tail end of the conversation. 

“Absolute fucking atrocity! How can you go off script??” His skin tinged red as his anger grew. Steve rolls his eyes, as if this wasn’t what they wanted. Drama for more clout. 

“I really am sorry.” Peter looks at Steve and you. 

“Save it.” Steve says, grabbing your hand and leading you to your group. 

“So Bucky and Steve standing up for you is going viral already.” Angel informs you to look at her tiredly and then at the floor. 

“Are they going to talk about the new book?” You ask, she nods.

“The buzz is being generated enough, I’m hoping we can have no advance reader copies and the only sneak peeks that come are from you.” Yelena adds, you look at Bucky.

His scowl is trained on Quill. You move towards him, reaching for his hand. 

“James.” 

He recognises your tone, wanting him to dismiss the matter. 

“Feather.” He warns you as well. 

“Please?” You look up at him with a small pout. 

Bucky melts, rapidly the anger leaving him, “Fine.” He chuckles as you grin, having won your way. 

“Come here.” He says, tugging on your arm and you’re pulled against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, your shoulders drooped. Home. He’s home. 

“You’re home.” You mumble. 

Bucky kisses the top of your head. 

“As we have discussed and contemplated, we’re in agreement. An in-store release will ensure more buzz.” Gideon and his team are all smiles. 

Yelena looks at you then back at them, “Perfect, we’re glad we’re able to work in a way that caters to both the teams.” 

“It always is a pleasure working with you Miss Belova.” He moves his hand forward, she meets him halfway. 

“And Ms. Y/L/N we are positive the book is going to be a hit, our editor had some concerns but with the way HYDRA is climbing upwards we know this will only take us further on success. 

“I sure hope so.” You smile beaming brightly. 

“Well printing is well underway so we should have you start signing within the month for in store copies—,”

A chorus of phones chiming around the room occurs. Everyone’s devices in their hands. An intern swiftly moves to switch the TV on, the news reports flooding in,

“In a shocking revelation done by Peter Quill of Entertainment Today, he has uncovered the ongoing affair between Alexander Pierce and Actress Dolores. Sources wonder is this why she stays on projects even due to her diva behaviour? There is a thirty year age gap between them fans suspect predatory behaviour and the grooming of Dolores done by the decorated producer and owner of HYDRA—,”

The picture flashes and you have to clutch your hands tightly. It reminds you all too well of your own experience. 

“Switch to HYDRA.” Gideon sneers, the intern scrambles to switch. 

“In a horrible breach of privacy, our esteemed leader Alexander Pierce was found consoling a distraught Dolores and this story is being turned and twisted by entertainment tid bit and disgraced reporter Peter Quill, who, if you remember insulted Steve Rogers and Author Y/N Y/L/N publically at the announcement of her highly anticipated fourth book.” Sharon shakes her head disgusted at everything. 

“We have reached out to Mr. Pierce and Dolores to find out from the source the matter and set the record straight.” She adds, “For now I will allow my team to take over coverage of the forest fire crisis ongoing in Los Angeles.”

“See, nothing to be worried about.” Gideon smoothens his tie, giving a tight lipped smile. 

You nod. 

“I’m sure Mr. Pierce will explain.” Yelena adds. 

Peter Quill stares at the cops parading around his home and then the small little white powder bag they somehow found inside his home. He was good with this, never letting the party boy side of him touch the limelight in which he shined and thrived. 

Now he was sitting in a room in the police department. A camera in the corner turned off for privacy with his lawyer. 

“Mr. Quill, you have a phone call.” His lawyer hands him his phone. 

“Hello?” Peter greets.

“Mr. Quill, I suggest you heed this warning.” 

His eyes wide, the caller’s voice easily recognised. 

“I was doing my job.” He defends, “I was sent—,”

“Peter, save yourself some dignity, I know other things about you as well. We don’t want those coming to light do we?” Alexander chuckles. 

“N-no.” 

“Alright then, I’m sure your lawyer will be able to handle this matter. Consider this a final warning, Mr. Quill. I do not like my privacy invaded and after today I’m sure you will agree.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good boy.”

Peter hands the phone back to his lawyer as the line goes dead. 

“I hope you recorded that.” Peter says, his lawyer smiles.

“I always do.” 

The dominos begin to fall. 

The first being Dolores and Alexander’s speculated affair. No matter how many times the two clarified the situation people wouldn’t let go. 

Edits of fans and experts of body language labelling Alexander as a predator. Dolores the victim. 

You swallow thickly as almost all of the signed on creatives of HYDRA were ushered into the auditorium housed within the headquarters. 

The issue was rapidly evolving and frankly getting out of hand. Interviews being stopped in the middle asking how the best of advocated actors, actresses, directors and producers are associated with this kind of man. 

All of your social media feeds were drowning under the comments, some very horribly rude and outright attacking you on a personal level. 

“I told you not to read them.” Bucky chastises from next to you. You tuck away your phone. 

“I can’t ignore it already. The whole mandate of saying nothing is annoying me, countless people want him to be taken down.” You complained to him. 

“I know it’s bothering me as well.” He sighs, grasping your hand gently, you feel the soft ridges of the metal as he rubs soothing circles onto the back of your hand. 

You stare at the limbs, just wanting to lift his hand and kiss it. Just to see the sweet flush that would coat his cheeks. Just to see that shy smile of his, just to admire him. 

“We’re in public.” He warns, reading your mind, “As much as I love you doting on me, I don’t think SHIELD—HYDRA,” He corrects himself,  “can tolerate another piece of drama.” He snorts. 

“Careful what you wish for,” Steve exhales loudly as he sits next to you, “dogs are sniffing around for something that might break the internet further than the current scenario.” 

You roll your eyes, “What are they going to do? Have them release more photos, of others?” 

“Possibly.” Steve gives an apologetic smile, “Angel’s heard conversation that maybe they might pitch the three of us being a throuple.” 

“The fuck?” Bucky says, you groan. 

“I don’t think we can take that news down like that.” You defend. 

“Well, think about it, over time speculation has happened.” Steve says you and Bucky exchange a glance. 

“People ship the two of us.” Bucky adds sharing a look with Steve. 

“Oh god.” You press your palms against your face. 

“This is not what I envisioned happening when I wrote Stucky x reader.” You mumble prompting Bucky to laugh. 

“I did like the werewolf one.” Steve praises, Bucky chuckles, nodding in agreement. 

Your head snaps towards Steve then Bucky. 

“You.” You glare at your boyfriend. 

“In my defence, Steve asked me about it first which is why I had to read it.” Bucky raises his hands. 

You turn to Steve, “You.” your tone is hopefully menacing. 

“Sorry.” The blonde says very unapologetically. 

The microphone feedback makes everyone look up at the stage, the three of you in the secluded corner watch on as the legal head of HYDRA, Schmidt is standing at the podium. 

“As you are aware of the recent negative light shed upon Mr. Alexander Pierce, we ask you all to check your emails for the social media statement that will be issued from all of your accounts over the next twenty four hours.” He concludes, hand running over his tie.

“We assure you that no predatory or grooming behaviour was done by Mr. Pierce.” He declares, “As you know a man of his stature and power will be cursed by the media and preyed upon by women who want money. Ms. Dolores has set the record straight and all will be well again for us. I hope there are no questions that would like to be asked by all of you.” 

The silence just continues on, no one dares to say anything. 

“Alright then, you’re all dismissed please post the message on your socials. It is mandatory on your contracts.” Schmidt completes then walks off stage. 

“Fucking hell.” Natasha’s voice has the three of you turn.

“Nat, pleasantly surprised you didn’t skip out.” Steve smiles at her, she rolls her eyes. 

“Mandatory meetings are all the fun.” She says, her gaze shifts to you. 

You offer a small smile, she looks back into her phone. Bucky’s hand rests on your shoulder to offer comfort. 

You look down at your phone, reading over the generic statement that provides a stance while saying you take no stance. 

“Miss Y/N?” 

Four pairs of eyes fall upon the intern as they clutch their folder tighter. You offer a smile. 

“Yes?”

“Mr. Pierce would like to see you in his office. I’m supposed to escort you there immediately.” They say, you nod. 

You feel Bucky tense behind you. His hand moving protectively to your shoulder. You place your hand upon his, “It’s just a meeting, I’ll call you okay?” 

You turn to meet his gaze, still unconvinced. 

“James.” 

“I’ll wait for you.” He declares. 

“As will I.” Steve adds. 

Gathering your bag, you step to the aisle. Natasha grabs your arm, turning you. 

“Since when?” She questions, green eyes trained on you, observing every little flicker of emotion running over your face. Through the cracks of your poker face. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Natasha.” You reply cooly, gently prying your arm out of her grip. 

“Y/N.” Her jaw tightens, eyes narrowing as she doesn’t buy your lie. 

“Nat,” Bucky calls out, distracting her enough to allow you a moment to slip away. 

“Bucky, you better tell me.” You catch her words, Bucky meets your eyes across the auditorium. 

Asking for your approval to tell her, you watch as Steve shakes his head. You look at Bucky, he gives a subtle shake as well. They’re against telling her. 

You shake your head as well, exiting the auditorium. 

The lift’s music seldom distracts you from the increased pounding of your heart. Each beat echoing across your form. You grip the support bar. Perspiration coating your palms. 

The intern regards you with worry, a tight-lipped smile doesn’t ease their concern. The ding announces your arrival to the floor. On cue your phone rings, discreetly you answer it from your watch. 

Bucky’s with you, he’s with you. 

Alexander’s assistant beams at you, heading to open the door. Heels clicking and adding to the dread flowing through your veins. 

He must know your plan. 

He must know what you’re trying to do. 

Dolores probably is his pawn. 

Another betrayal. 

Another fucking disaster. 

You’d lose everything. 

You’d lose Bucky. 

Your mind is the worst enemy and the best friend you could have. 

“Ah, there you are, have a seat.” Alexander says from the desk he’s perched upon, facing the chair he requests you to take. 

You sit, placing your bag down and turning your watch face inward. 

“I read through the manuscript, I think we have a hit on our hands.” He grins. 

You smile, “Thank you.” 

“Though towards the end, I see you changed the original direction you wanted to take, why is that?” His fingers drum along the mahogany table. 

“Did you not like it?” You ask, he leans in closer prompting you to shift back. He smirks, eyes tracing over you. 

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, sweetheart. What happened that night, is just insurance against your thoughts of insubordination towards me. Even if you would never, the thought can taint your mind.” He raises his hand, fingers stroking your cheek. 

You cower back further, fingers tightly gripping the handles of the chair.

“This is why I prefer Dolores, always so easy to manipulate and bend to my will and fancy. The mouth on her. Such a good little fuck. I wonder if you…” He hums.

“Please don’t.” You whimper. 

You feel him draw closer, “I won’t, as long as you keep your damn mouth shut. Now your little book’s rights are going to be bought but I’m going to sell them for a profit after the launch.” He shifts away walking to the drink cart. 

You watch him pour himself a drink. 

“I’ll provide you with a percentage to take care of your mother. After all, we're a family here at HYDRA.” He grins, you nod, “How is she?” 

“Doing better on the new medication regime.” You answer, his smile turns menacing. 

“Good, you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise that, would you?” He questions your integrity. 

“I won’t let anything happen to HYDRA.” You say, it pleases him. 

“Good, now run along. I’m eager to have you personally sign my copy once the printed books come out.” Alexander gestures with his hand for you to go out of the office. 

You scramble away, only when the elevator doors close do you breathe easier as the floors increase between Alexander and you. The doors open at the parking level. 

You’re tucked into the corner of the elevator. 

Bucky stands there, gaze trained upon you as you stand supported by the railing. He steps onto the elevator. 

Covering the distance to you, pulling you to his chest. Your hands move to wrap around his shoulders. 

He sighs once you’re safe in his arms, with him. Gently he cradles your jaw, making you look up at him. Stroking your skin with his thumb. His lips press to your forehead. Then brush over your lips. 

The doors open again, 

“Holy fuck!” The camera flashes. 

Bucky turns, lips no longer against your own he presses for the close door button but the paparazzi block it with their lenses and feet keep the doors pried open. 

You grab onto his jacket to prevent him from lashing out at them. Your phone chimes. Bucky looks down at the screen as well. 

From: A. Pierce 

You two can’t keep a secret, allow me to tell the world on your behalf. 

Unless you would prefer another few secrets revealed. 

Bucky looks back at your face, your hands shake. He closes his eyes, this is not what he wanted. Not how he wanted to reveal to the world he was yours. 

“Feather.” His voice anchors you over the increased roaring of the paps. 

You look up, “James.”

Soft lips press to yours, you close your eyes, allowing Bucky to guide you. Your palm cupping his cheek. 

You knew this kiss was his apology, his admission, his pain, his acceptance, his plea, his protection and his love. 

Bucky hopes you feel all that he wants to say to you. He hopes he hasn’t disappointed you, he hopes you understand. 

When you kiss him back, his shoulders sag with relief. 

He turns you away from their prying eyes, shielding you with his body. The security finally pulls the paps back allowing the doors to close. 

Bucky’s forehead rests against yours, you want to cry. This is not how the two of you envisioned the world knowing. 

Another moment stolen away. 

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers, you only hug him tighter, hiding away yourself against his chest. 

Everyone on set regarded you differently. The crew whispered as the new couple passed by, Bucky holding your hand not letting go. He leads the two of you to the breakfast table. 

Steve, Loki, and Ace are waiting for you at the table. 

Natasha watched from afar, Maria shaking her head disappointedly. 

“What?” Nat questioned. 

“I hate when Alexander does this, uses the personal lives of people to his own gain.” Maria sighs. 

“What do you mean?” 

“The news with Dolores broke, I was with Alexander and Nick. Instead of trying to have things be smoother or address it. He wanted to know if anything was going on between them on set. Pulled information off of a crew member.” She explains. 

Nat’s gaze moves to the two of you, you both had been careful. She made sure you would get moments tucked away with Bucky. The senior staff are bound by ironclad NDAs. Though Alexander could have pressured anyone. 

The world hadn’t been kind. Questioning Bucky’s choice as well as your own. 

Then they’d say it was perfect, a broken imperfect man with an imperfect broken woman. 

Kind words lost amongst the sea of horrible words. So much so you had deleted the apps from your phone. 

Bucky had hoped to spare you from this part of his life. He knew you could take negative reviews or critique for your books. 

Over the past days he saw you reading everything discreetly. He wiped your tears, had you wipe his own. 

You knew people could be horrible, you’d seen it. Now you were living it. 

Reclusiveness had turned into a better option, words that you had learned to handle were overwhelming. 

You missed interacting with fans, they supported you. Several supporting your relationship, defending it as well from the haters and trolls. 

Sam wanted the two of you to issue statements or do an interview. Bucky was against it, the two of you were together, some would like it and several wouldn’t, he only cared about your wellbeing. If you wanted to speak to the world he would speak with you. 

For now he was supporting you in the chaos to which you were newly introduced towards. The move had helped Alexander no longer an article floated about his pictures with Dolores. 

“Imagine if it was the throuple thing?” Steve jokes, Loki glares at him. 

“Then you two would have to take turns cheering me up.” You add, Bucky snorts. 

“She’s making horny jokes, she’s really upset.” Ace remarks.

Loki shakes his head, “I thought horny jokes were her forte.” 

“They are, dirty fucking mind.” Bucky chuckles, you poke his cheek. 

“You love it.” 

“I do.” He kisses your cheek. 

“I’m happy though, you don’t have to shy away.” They grin, you smile. 

“Yeah it has its perks, not hiding.” You shrug then look behind Ace at Nat. 

“I want to speak to the two of you.” She says, “In private.” 

Bucky shares a look with you, the two of you follow Nat to her trailer. She locks it, a determined expression on her face. 

“Alexander was informed by a crew member about the two of you. I know we were discreet and we did everything we could to keep prying eyes away.” She states,

“I think it’s one of the core cast, Dolores yes but she already has everything on her plate. You two need to reevaluate the friendships forged.”

“Why are you worried?” Bucky raises a brow asking on your behalf, the two sisters had made their stances clear only wanting professional relationships with you. 

Nat exhales, “For whatever reason, you both are withholding information from me. When I asked Yelena and she kept her mouth sealed shut too, I understood it ran deeper than a surface level issue.” 

You seek out Bucky’s hand for comfort, his thumb strokes over your tattoo. He knew the action grounded you as well. 

“I want to apologise for the way I’ve acted, pushing you away. Being rude and frankly the opposite of the friendship I found with you.” She shakes her head disappointed at herself. 

“Nat…” you don’t know what to say to her. 

“I’m not seeking instant forgiveness. I know it will take time to repair things. I just, I know how he can be and yet I thought you were after the money.” 

You wince. 

“I’m sorry, I really am, I just want to get to the bottom of who is behind telling Alexander.” She presses, watching as Bucky and you share another glance.

“Look it was bound to happen, and we already have a plan to smoke the leak out.” He grins, you giggle.

Natasha regards the two of you perplexed by the positive attitude, a stark contrast to the way the two of you have behaved over the past few days. 

This was the next domino, have the public find out about the two of you. Dolores had been on your side, she wasn’t blabbing that much you knew, because the story was to be about the throuple with Steve and Bucky if it came from Dolores.

This much was sure that Alexander was being overly cautious. Which meant he would want to keep an eye on everything, which meant he would slip up.

“Well, if you need me to do anything, let me know.” She adds, you nod at her.

“I need you to continue being mean and reserved, I have to tell different people different things you said to us here.” You let her in on the plan.

“So just continue the way you are and we can always meet up privately.” Bucky shrugs at her.

“It's good seeing you this happy, Barnes.” She smiles at him, “You take care of her.”

“I’m trying every day.” His blue eyes gaze down at you, softening as he regards you being there in his life. Being his happiness, adding to it.

“You succeed everyday.” Your eyes find his warmth spreading through your chest at the love you feel just from his gaze.

“Alright then, now before the clothes come off, please leave.” Nat gestures to the two of you out the door.

“Bye, Natasha–,”

“Nat.” She corrects you trying to undo one step.

“Nat, I’ll see you on set.” 

She smiles as do you.

—-div

“Alright, we’re going to move in on Pierce tomorrow.” Darcy informs the three of you. 

“We want you all in a safer public space.” Scott adds, “I believe your book launch is placed appropriately?” 

You nod, “It's in place.” 

It had been almost a month and a half now since the book was cleared into printing. The movie schedule was constantly thrown off by Dolores to aid with the case’s timeline. 

Prompting Natasha to keep asking you to step in over and over so they could shoot the opposite cast’s scenes. 

The leak was in place tonight, the book had to tank. It was the only way you’d be able to free yourself. 

Andy and Matt were working hard on finding loopholes for Bucky and Steve. Most of the ways out however involved paying their way out. Signing another set of contracts that cut off their ways of income and working in the industry. 

“We have a lot of evidence against him, it will be a process to go through. Given his position and influence we anticipate a bail. However we anticipate travel restrictions so that he cannot flee the state or country.” Darcy takes a deep inhale then exhales slowly. 

“We have one chance. One. Are you three sure you want to come forward with everything he’s put you through? There are other victims who have said yes and others who have said no. We will not force you, you need to make this decision on your own.” She waits, observing the three of you. 

“I’ve been waiting a long time.” Dolores says, “I want him to rot and if he dies that's great too.”

“I’m in.” you answer. Everyone turns to the woman on the left. 

“We’ll take him down.” Maria Hill promises. 

The crowd is still there surprisingly despite the overnight leak. The night was filled with caffeine and chaos. A lot of people had downloaded the book based on the numbers Yelena had observed. 

Social media was in an uproar. People who read the leaked version, divided in opinion. Goodreads was getting reviews based on the leaks and trying to disregard them or block those to stop prompting readers to be tempted to read the book. 

Several accounts who made it their life’s mission to hate on you because Bucky was off the market were sharing download links to tank your ratings and for once you wanted them to not get blocked off. 

The outfit for today was cream pants that hugged your curves, paired with a navy top which was low cut but in a way that gave nothing away. It was teasing enough for Bucky. You chuckle remembering his expression at the fitting. 

Bucky stands before you with a small box in his hands. You raise a brow. It was five minutes till you had to go out to face the crowd at the bookstore signing. 

“Just, I had this made as a ‘happy book launch day’ gift.” Bucky swallows a sudden nervousness taking over him. 

“James, why are you nervous?” Your palm cups his cheek. 

The red flush takes over his features. He gnaws at his bottom lip, “I just—, I’m wondering if this was a good idea, I mean not the giving you a gift but the gift itself.” 

“James—,” 

“I just, I hope you like it and I know you don’t like the whole materialistic aspect so I tried to combine the emotional aspect too—,”

“Baby,” you place your free hand right over his sternum feeling his heartbeat against your palm, “I’m going to love whatever you have in that box. And the fact that you put so much thought into it? I already love it.” 

A smile breaks out across his features, the crinkles by his eyes enhanced and pure joy radiating from him. Handing you the box he moves to hold you by your waist, watching as you open it. 

The velvet is soft and you see a soft glimmer as the gift catches the light. He takes your gasp as a good sign, his nerves begin to settle. 

Across the box, lays a necklace, the pendant shaped like a quill, an exact replication of your tattoo. The shaft of it has a line of diamonds that reflect in the light. You look up at your man, not understanding why tears are gathering in your eyes. 

“It’s beautiful.” You whisper, “I love it, James… Thank you.” 

Bucky leans in brushing the escaped tear away from your cheek with his lips, “May I put it on you?” 

You nod, he gently takes the necklace from the box, moving behind you. He meets your gaze in the mirror. The soft metal touches your skin and he watches the pendant shift as he decides the perfect length to wear it upon. 

His fingertips trace along the nape of your neck to your shoulders. Bucky presses his lips to the crook of your neck, “Perfect even better than how I envisioned it.” 

Your hand moves to his hair, running your fingers through it as you turn your head to kiss him. Warm hands encircle around your waist yet again holding you close. 

Slowly your lips part, Bucky groans, watching the piece of jewellery nestle over your sternum drawing his eyes to your breasts. 

All too soon he has you pushed against the wall, lips latched to yours as his hands explore your body, cupping your breast and palming it. You whimper onto his tongue. It only urges him on. 

There is a knock on the door, “I hope y'all are decent.” Sam hopes to the heavens above. 

You make a displeased sound as Bucky pulls away from you, gently setting your legs down from where they were around his waist. 

“Patience, Feather.” He whispers, your hands roam over his chest. 

“What is it Sam?” He questions, blue eyes trained on your seemingly innocent face. 

You know the warning look. You don’t heed it. Your hands move to his belt buckle. To you Sam’s voice already drowned out. 

“Feather.” Bucky hisses as your index finger trails over his growing erection. 

“Don’t you want to see me just in the necklace?” You look up at him, pushing the fabric lower, allowing yourself to give him slow gentle pumps. 

Bucky’s hands come to rest on the wall on either side of your head, caging you in. You bite your lip, his eyes turning towards the stormy blue you loved, not the kind out of his anger but the kind born out of you making him unravel, turning him feral, needy. 

Bucky’s flesh hand grasps your neck. The thoughts begin to fly out the window from your mind. 

“Feather, don’t start something you won’t finish because if I have to take over. Everyone will know just by your stride that you got fucked in the green room by your man.” He squeezes gently, your palm squeezes his length. 

“You’re my good girl aren’t you?” 

You nod. 

“Words Feather, my good girl uses her words, even if she’s being a needy little brat.” He chuckles, if you turned him needy and feral for you he knew how to do the same to you. 

“Yes, your good girl.” You answer. 

You watch as he leans in, his breath fanning across your face, you just want to taste him.

“Can you both not?” Sam groans, “I cannot with you both right now, Y/N, you have to be out in five minutes. Stop letting him seduce you.” 

Bucky closes his eyes, you giggle as he withdraws his hand from your throat. 

“Feather, I know it's yours but you gotta let go of my dick please.” 

“Oh, oh,” your skin heats as you retract your hand helping him get decent. 

“For the record, you seduced me.” He narrows his eyes at you. 

“Hey, we both know you probably thought of me naked with only the necklace on before I suggested it.” 

His mouth hangs open, sputtering to cover up the clear truth. You cover your mouth to stop laughing out loud. Bucky shakes his head, a bemused grin on his lips. 

The door is opened to a disappointed Sam and Yelena staring at the two of you. Their arms crossed. 

“Just wanted to wish her good luck.” Bucky defends. 

“Right, and does that involve your fly being open?” Sam raises a brow, Bucky scrambles turning around then huffs. 

“It isn’t—,” he shuts up at Sam’s stern expression. 

Yelena raises her phone to her ear, “She’ll be out in thirty seconds.” 

Bucky pulls you close, lips pressing against yours in a quick kiss. 

“Good luck, Feather. Once we’re back home I’m going to tell you the reason behind your nickname.” He kisses you again, leaving you breathless grasping onto his shoulders. 

“Th-thanks.” You squeak out, he squeezes your ass, your eyes widen, skin heating, “J-James!” 

He only gives a wink coupled with a cheeking grin. As he follows Sam out you watch him walk backwards laughing at your befuddlement. 

“Ready?” Yelena questions, offering her hand to you as she always did, walking with you till it was your turn to venture alone. 

You grasp her hand, nodding, “As I’ll ever be.” 

There is a chorus of cheers when Yelena walks out to introduce your arrival. You spot Bucky, Sam and your mother sitting in a section reserved for family. It makes your chest warm seeing that area occupied finally. 

When you step out it’s as surreal as the first time, the cheers, the squeals, the happiness of your readers infectious. 

The first two hours are a blur of writing names, interacting, hearing the reader’s theories for the book and maybe a snippet of your next one. You take a sip of water as the line is held back for a moment. 

You grab the sharpie as the line begins again, 

“Hi, thank you for coming out to see me today—,” your mouth dries when you look up at the figure towering over you. 

“If you could make that out to Alexander Pierce, that would be great.” Alexander smiles at you. 

“A-alexander?” You find your heart plummet, he was supposed to be behind bars by now. 

He pushes the book across the desk. Nudging your frozen hands into action. Opening the book you write down, his name,

“How about a sweet message?” He raises a brow, “I am your boss after all.” 

“I um, sure.”

To Alexander Pierce, 

Your actions speak louder than my words, which is why people can hold them in their hands.

Regards,

Y/N 

He peers at the message, eyes narrowing then he smiles. He parts his mouth about to speak when you watch him descend onto your table headfirst. 

You shift back standing, the chair plummets to the floor. 

Darcy Lewis and Scott Lang stand behind Alexander, pressing him down on the table and extending his hands to cuff him. 

“Alexander Pierce, you’re being placed under arrest for multiple charges of sexual assault, blackmailing, non consensual administration of narcotics, and financial embezzlement.” Darcy speaks clearly, her voice ringing above the bookstore’s clamour. 

Alexander struggles in the grasp, “You’re making a grave mistake, Agent.”

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” She says, Alexander’s gaze locks on you. 

“You opened your mouth, didn't you? If I come to know you have, I’m going to ruin your life. You fat fucking slut.” He roars, Darcy presses his shoulders down to prevent him from getting up. 

Bucky’s cologne suddenly surrounds you. You look up, only to see his chin. He has you tucked against his chest protectively placing his arms around you. 

“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?” She waits for his response which is only laughter. 

“Oh Agent, you’re all going to regret this, don’t you know who I am?” He sneers. 

Darcy rolls her eyes, “Alexander Pierce, do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”

“I do.” He seethes, “I want my fucking legal team.” 

“We will contact them.” Scott says, they lift him up from the desk, he looks at Bucky. Anger coursing through his body. 

“I warned you Barnes. Now you will know the consequences.” The older man spits out. 

Bucky makes sure you cannot look at Alexander, palm blocking your head’s movement. 

“Are you threatening me? Mid arrest? I haven’t done anything to you Alexander. I have always respected you.” Bucky speaks, Alexander’s anger only grows, he’s dragged out. 

The bookstore grows quiet. Eerily so, the cameras still held up despite the FBI retreating and leaving. 

Bucky gently shifts from you, still holding your hands within his own. You regard the entire store only hoping the threats he made will reach online so they can be used in court as well. 

“Everyone I am so sorry, the event will have to be postponed to a later date. Those who did not get a chance to interact will have their tickets refunded. You will retain your book and the signing will take place at a later date.” A representative from HYDRA announces. 

Bucky leads you back inside the green room. Sam and your mom are already watching the news unfold on his iPad. 

She looks up at you demanding an explanation. 

“I’ll explain later, mum—,”

“What did he do to you?” She cuts you off. 

“Mum,” you swallow the lump forming in your throat. 

Her eyes move onto Bucky, “Why was he threatening you? You were supposed to take care of her.” 

He kneels in front of her, “I regret it everyday that I couldn’t protect her.”

“Mom it isn’t Bucky’s fault.” You sit next to Bucky grasping her other hand, “I’ll tell you everything. Just you cannot blame anyone but Alexander okay?” 

She regards the two of you, Sam shifts, “I’ll make sure the three of you have some privacy.” 

He walks out, shutting the door behind him. 

“Alright, tell me and no covering anything or hiding any details. I may be sick but I’m not weak.” She warns, “I didn’t mean to blame you Bucky, I just, she’s my only child.” 

“I know, I just, when I saw her that night, I blamed myself. I should have known better.” He sighs, you grab his hand with your free one. 

“We’ll tell you everything, if it becomes too much tell us to stop and we will.” He requests of her. 

“You will do the same.” She says, the two of you nod. 

HEADLINES:

Alexander Pierce Arrested At Signing Of Author Y/N’s Fourth Book

Dolores Looks Sombre Exiting The FBI Branch 

Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers and Other HYDRA Creatives Come Out In Support Of Long List Of Victims Of Alexander Pierce’s Abuse 

‘This Is A Shock To Me’ Says Ace In Recent Interview Praising Alexander Pierce

Author Y/N Continues Book Signings Amidst Ongoing Court Case — How Exactly Harrowing Was The Ordeal If She Can Function Normally?

Brock Rumlow Arrested In Conjunction With Charges Pressed Against His Uncle 

HYDRA Projects All Come To Standstill As Crews Organise Protests To Support Victims Os Sexual Assault. 

Bucky Barnes And Y/N Y/L/N Spotted Getting Cozy At His Favourite Restaurant, Onlooker Spills The Beans On Their Conversation.

A.N.: so the queue didn't work and i had other one shots as well prepped but nothing went through so i manually reedited everything since i lost most of it unfortunately, i hope you guys enjoy the chapter, i know sometimes its fast paced compared to slowburn, we're nearing the end of it

Taglist is Open comment or DM to be added!

Taglist: @stevesmewmew @elle14-blog1 @crazyunsexycool @sebsgirl71479 @pandaxnienke @slutforsexyseabass @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @pandaxnienke @vampire7595 @buckyinluv

[aeaean--bliss]

tui la | part one: the unforeseen consequences of arbitrary decisions

summary: the clock hits midnight, and it’s time to run. this story is about the race.

pairing: bucky barnes x bender!reader

genre: atla!au, strangers/enemies to lovers, pining, slow-burn

word count: 6.2k

warnings/tags: this one’s a bit tame, but things will kick off and get a bit gorey/violent later on. canon level stuff, though. loneliness, depression, all that good stuff. later tags include, fire, burns, death (not main character), amputation (it’s a bucky fic lads), icky wounds, would not recommend reading if overly squeamish. lmk if i’ve missed any.

a/n: been working on this for a while now, really excited to have it up. please consider telling me what you think about it!

masterlist

chapter index

part one | part two

part one | the unforeseen consequences of arbitrary decisions

First, there were Spirits. 

They manifested in mortal realms, roaming the uninhabited territories of the Spirit Wilds with a fervour only the unworldly can muster.

When mankind appeared and sought refuge from these dangerous territories, its protector granted them sanctuary. Isolated from each other, these communities of men developed distinct cultures and forwent their common origins. 

When necessity forced men to wander beyond the boundaries of their asylum, their protector granted them the ability to command and bend one of the four great elements to their will. This power was reserved for protection, and was to be returned upon re-entry to the sanctuary. 

And so, man and his protector had established an amicable relationship. When the Spirits were driven into the Spirit Worlds, mankind’s protectors renounced their titles, leaving mankind to go about its business as it pleased.

What followed developed sporadically. Some learned the art of bending the elements from the natural creatures, such as badgermoles, dragons, and flying bison. Some stole it from their protectors. Others learned from observing the forces from the moon on the ocean tides. 

Push, and pull. 

Tuī lā.

Tales of the battles of warlords, avatars, benders, and Spirits were the bread and butter of any child’s upbringing in the Realm. Awesome, unfathomable, terrifying, and inspiring great reverence, they formed the intricately woven history of the fabric of the world, centred around the four pivotal elements:

Water,

Fire, 

Earth, and

Air.

It’s strange how the heat can play with your mind. 

It makes fleeting images flicker across your eyes, vision blurred by the waves of fever emanating from the ground like a contagious sickness, poisoning your reality. 

The silhouettes of dead trees scattered along the golden horizon morph into figures resembling moving spirits, shifting and swaying in the waves radiating from the dust. Here, they constitute modern folklore, their names unspoken yet painted in the whispers of children after dark. The fields they stand in have laid untouched for thirty-seven years, smouldering still.

In their ashes, you can see the clouds of black smoke. Weeping with tar and oozing with a stench so palpable it threatens to empty your already-depleted stomach, it spreads across a pine-clad land, devouring every organism in its path and leaving behind an all-consuming sinkhole.

As though vibrating against your eyes, the air seems to push into you, submerging you in pressurised heat. Up here, from the modest room that constitutes your current lodging, your view extends all the way to the edge of the town; past the fields, to the ascent where the ground disappears and meets the azure.

You’ve been feeling faint lately. You’d be forgiven for attributing your ailment to the persisting climate, but this doesn’t feel like the bouts of sunstroke you used to endure as a child. In an effort to soothe your nausea, your subconscious conjures phantom scents of aloe vera jelly and boiled ginger, but it only makes your stomach turn. 

Nonetheless, the world does not stop on your behalf, and you have errands to run at the market before it is time to open. The metal hook that locks the panels in front of your window creaks shrilly as it slips into its loop, and the floorboards groan as you make your descent to the lower level. Everything feels slow today. Tired, unmoving, and reluctant. The seven tables stationed throughout the room stand undisrupted from where you left them yesterday evening, and yet they have an unnervingly strong presence in the quiet room, as though the ghosts of their occupants have decided to linger. Delicate cloths, carefully pressed and uniformly straightened, line the heavy wooden surfaces. You can’t put your finger on it, but something about them comforts you; like a tapestry hung straight and even against a wall. 

The sweltering air hits your face like a fur swung against your head with the force of the opening door. It stings in your nose, forcing your eyes shut as you shift the handle of your woven basket from your hands to the crook of your elbow. The coarse reeds chafe against your bare skin, dry and golden as the sand and dust that coats the stone under your feet. 

If anyone asked, you would be convinced you eat, sleep, and breathe that dust. Morning, noon, and night. It weighs heavily in the air. Invasive. Foreign. Sometimes, on days like today, you’re reminded of your mother. Gentle fingertips through hair, smell of cured fish in the air, and the sun beating down on your skin. 

Not like here, not this kind of heat. A softer heat. The type that disappears temporarily when you step into the shade. 

Not like here, where there is no shade to step into because the heat doesn’t come from the sun, it comes from the earth; pounding. 

The walk down to Market Square is heavier than usual; your lungs feel small and weak, your mouth feels dry, and your head throbs in tune with your footsteps. It seems, however, as though you’re alone in being bothered by the climate. Foot traffic in town has been unaffected. If anything, it seems even busier than usual. You’re not exactly certain how long it takes migrants to acclimate to their new settlements, but you suppose it must be longer than five moons, seeing as you’re not even remotely close to operating at your usual pace. 

Fortunately, you don’t attract any particular attention. So many migrants have settled on the merchant island of Andaar over the course of the past one hundred and seventy years that traditional fire nation attire is only ever really worn by the official guards who patrol the town. Even those patrolling the coast wear different uniforms to indicate their rank. 

As for your uncomfortable demeanour, people have more important things to care about. Food is scarce. Despite being a regional hub for trade, the benefits of these practices are reserved for a few. Goods flow through the ports, but they never stay for long. 

By the time you return to your humble abode, your skin is layered with dust. There is no water for a wash. So, you begin to organise your purchases of the day into the brown clay pots lined along the wall, on the table that serves as a counter at the far end of the room. The scents of their contents are faint and weak, barely lingering on your fingertips as you strip the dried stems of their needles and leaves. 

Then, you wait.

Many arbitrary decisions led to you finding yourself here, in a small tea shop in the Western quadrant of a Fire Nation merchant island, waiting for your first customer of the day. You don’t earn a profit; any income goes directly to your landlord. In turn, you receive accommodation and a small allowance.

You find yourself here, hoping it will be the last place they look.

It’s days like this that make you feel nauseous. The profound vista of the setting sun devours you, reminding you of your inherent insignificance. The beauty of its colours taunts you, teasing you with temporary luxuries that evaporate with sundown.

Now, when you are at your lowest, when you feel like you’re in the place farthest from anything and everything you know, the spirits strike you with yet another bolt of humiliation. 

There is a woman. At least thirty summers old. She sits against the wall outside the tea shop, selling snails. She wakes at three in the morning, every morning, wraps her daughter to her chest, and walks the distance to the docks in time for the first shipment to come in. All she gets are scraps; the docks are import/export, nothing ever fully lands, but there is always a loophole for those who keep their eyes open. They’re sloppy when they load the nets off the boats for repackaging; the odd snail slips from the grasp of the net and falls with a gentle plop into the shoreline. And she sits against the wall until dusk, selling steamed snails to the officers. They’re the only people who can afford the luxury. 

You catch slight glimpses of her throughout the day while you work. The way she holds her babe to her chest, lips moving in silent whispers… It strikes a pang within you. 

Not because you have any desire for a child. That is a luxury you certainly cannot afford. Nevertheless, you can’t help but envy the company she must have, sitting outside those long hours. You don’t think you’ll be able to get away with muttering to your cups and pots under your breath for much longer. One of your customers will undoubtedly pick up on it sooner or later, and you’d rather it be later than sooner. 

People don’t talk much here. You can’t even begin to recall the last time you had an ordinary conversation with someone. People don’t engage in small talk, or find any excuse to utter any words that aren’t strictly necessary. Your childlike urge for recognition, your desire for attention sits deep in your stomach like a pit, but it’s old now. Old and worn down.

At this stage, your suspicion for anyone who lays eyes on you is excruciating. Occasionally, a heavy gaze will follow you as you manoeuver the shop, though it never lingers for too long. Despite its temporary presence, it sparks nausea.

No, people don’t talk much here. And yet, you step one toe out of line, and they’ll all know about it. 

Even standing here, lingering at the docks as you stare out at the waterfront, is risky. You have no business standing here. Men who lug nets and crates and sacks don’t appreciate you standing in their way. Their skin lies coated with sweat and grime, caked with dust that never seems to settle. From the sun breaks in the sky in the morning till it slips below the horizon at night, they work. 

Part of you has no desire to stand here, either. The odour of decomposing sea creatures hangs as a heavy stench in the air, the smoke from the cast iron fire pits stationed along the coastline seeping into your lungs as you begin to feel drowsy. 

But fate deals you yet another blow of humiliation as you stare into the murky, grey water. 

There’s a spirit in folklore, a spirit which takes the form of a young woman of extraordinary beauty. Everything she touches, everything around her, shines like a summer’s day. Young men will scarf down anything, creatures that creep, slither, and crawl, fruits infested with rot, as though they were at the Emperor’s great banquet hall. With hijacked eyes, they are led into the deepest crevices of the wilderness, never to return. 

You feel her hanging over you, slipping the stained glass over your lids as you stare into the water. It’s opaque; a dark, lifeless water that looks as though it poisons whatever it touches, but to you? To you, the waves look a crystal green. If you concentrate, you can just about see the lion crabs scuttling along the white sand below. Your skin itches with the urge to dip your toes in the water, to feel the cool waves extract your fever like a syringe.

You stand less than an arm's length away from the edge, so unfathomably close to the waves below, and yet, for all the good it does you, you might as well be sitting in your quarters, looking out of your window. It taunts you, poised and pretty in your stained glass lenses, knowing you will come this close and no farther. 

Maybe things are different on the other side of the island, beyond the deep, tangled forest and the deserted plains. Maybe it’s the soot, the same chalk that stains your skin a dark black, that poisons the water that lures you to this part of the town at this late hour.

Nevertheless, the nausea that floods you in waves is a sickeningly bitter invasion of the brief, ever-so-small relief you find in the sea air that works as a cool contrast to the humidity of the shop. You feel as though your skin may never learn to breathe again.

“Hey, lady.”

The words ring in your mind with such profundity that you’re convinced you imagined them. You’ve become so estranged that the thought that someone might be talking to you does not even cross your mind until they speak again. 

“Hey!”

He’s right behind you, now. Whoever he is. 

When you turn, you see the owner of the voice; a man with dark features, shoulders broad and strong from heavy lifting. He carries timber across his shoulder, one arm wrapped around the load to steady it. He doesn’t look happy, though that doesn’t come as a surprise. 

“Get going.”

His voice is gruff, yet oddly quiet. You can tell by the way he’s positioned that you’re not on his route; he’s taken a detour to speak with you. Judging by the way he continues to glance over his shoulder, you assume he’s not supposed to. 

“The lumber yard is that way,” you say bluntly, gesturing apathetically to your right. 

You turn away from him again, and cast your gaze back to the water. 

“It’s getting late,” he says plainly. “You’re in the way.”

He must have taken a step closer. In the interest of not placing yourself in a position where you’d be easy to knock, you turn to face him fully. You catch him glancing over his shoulder again, this time in the direction of two men who stand by one of the huts further inland. Their features are poorly illuminated, though they don’t strike you as anything out of the ordinary. One of the men has a sack almost the size of his own body slung across his shoulders, his hands resting firmly either side. The other holds a great iron hook with three razor-sharp prongs, attached to a thick and heavy chain. The man with the hook turns it over in his hands, as though with muscle memory. It’s longer than his forearm and as thick as the horn of a ram, but he carries it as though it weighs less than a feather. Their eyes are fixed to the west, almost unmoving. 

“Listen,” he speaks again, stepping even closer. You quell the urge to step backwards just in time to remember how close you are to the water’s edge. “You don’t want to be here when the sun sets. Not tonight.”

You draw yourself up until the two of you are almost even in height, fixing him with a stare designed to conceal anything he might be looking for. Although, you must admit, his eyes don’t appear to be anything less than sober. 

“Hm.”

It’s amusing, how the sun sets. In the beginning, when it starts, you cannot imagine that the light might seep from the day. You cannot even picture what it looks like. Then it goes on, gradually, painting deep, entrancing colours and shapes in the heavens that seem to go on forever. 

And suddenly, in an instant, it’s all gone. And when you take your eyes off the man in front of you for a split moment and dart your eyes in the direction of the horizon, you can see that the point of blindness is almost upon you. 

But with this blindness comes the unmistakeable feeling that something is wrong. 

“I suggest,” the man says, voice low, “you get going.”

You can’t tell quite yet how you feel about how his eyes linger heavily on you as you leave. 

The scrapes on your knees and shins burn almost as hot as the petulant rage that fills you as you all but stomp back to your quarters. It wasn’t until you reached the brush, the hard, prickly remains of whatever godawful shrubs used to grow before the air became poisoned, that you began to seethe with a childish fury.

Your skin prickles with the flush of an odd mixture of guilt, regret, embarrassment, and something you can only describe as… fear. With your head in the clouds, shrouded by rainbow illusions, he took you by surprise. Like a child, told off for stepping out of your lane. It’s a foolish thing to get aggravated over, you know this, but you’ve never been known for your balanced temper. 

Nevertheless, the interaction has your blood boiling. So much so that you stomp through the bristles without a second of thought, ignoring the way their shards tear at your bare skin. Anger is an excellent anaesthetic; it isn’t until you lie down on your makeshift mattress that you feel the throbbing begin.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the throbbing in your legs is matched in pace to the beating of your heart, but rather than remaining an inconvenient nuisance, it amplifies the anxiety bubbling under your skin like an echo. As you stare into the wooden beams that cross the ceiling, you realise with a start that it’s the first time anyone’s spoken to you outside of marketplace trades and orders of tea in five whole moons. You’ve become so isolated from social interaction that the slightest confrontation has you drawing your breath as though you have to force it through a punctured hole in your lung.

Curse the man from the docks. You can’t even fully remember his face; his features shrouded by the setting sun and the heavy soot and your own lack of attention to the present. That proves no obstacle for your mind, though, as it begins to transcribe page upon page of insult to hurl at him.

But they don’t do confrontation here, and judging by the quick thuds you can feel against your flesh as you press your palm under your breast, you should be grateful. So – after much deliberation and progression through the five stages of grief – you allow the slumber that’s been blossoming in your chest to consume you. 

It tingles. Burns, might be a more appropriate way to describe it. Business has been so quiet this morning that it leaves you little to be distracted by. You made the mistake of subconsciously rubbing your calves together as you were waiting for your first customer, and the enraged throbbing still has yet to subside. 

You afford yourself a deep inhale of the blend you’ve gathered together, picking up the pestle and beginning to grind. It’s borderline painful, handling the scarce commodity without being able to spare a single cup. The tea you serve is weak as it is, and if you want to avoid losing what little clientele you have, you have no choice but to let your mouth water. 

Now that you’ve had the opportunity to reflect on the events of last night, you find yourself a bit on edge. Something in the air has shifted. The anxiety sowed with his confrontation has bubbled with ease under your skin, keeping your heart rate up and your palms sweaty. The fact that you were perceived, that he came up and spoke to you, has triggered an anxiety even deeper than you originally thought existed. 

Very simply, your bubble has burst. 

Because it’s not just him, you think, as you add the powdered leaves and herbs to the water and mix slowly. It’s not just him. With your increased wariness, you decided against leaving the house this morning. Strictly speaking, you don’t need to run errands until tomorrow, and as you sat at one of the few, pristine tables in your keep, you began to take note of the number of patrols outside your door. 

Just in the few moons that you’ve been here, they have increased five-fold.

The air feels heavy with tension, and you feel the fool who only just noticed. It has been a steady development, and had you been more preoccupied with observing rather than just keeping your head down, you might have avoided an unpleasant truth.

No use wallowing in should-have’s and would-have’s now.

You remember his words from yesterday - 

“You don’t want to be here when the sun sets. Not tonight.”

What did he mean, not tonight? What was happening, ‘tonight’?

Days trickle by, and you feel the pressing weight of your curiosity growing steadily. Things in the town remain largely unchanged, but you feel a desire to learn more. What you’d be learning more about, you cannot possibly say. 

But someone else can.

Though, no matter how many times you walk past the docklands on your errands, you never catch a glimpse of him. You even make up excuses, detours you cannot afford to take, just for the opportunity to spot him because at this point – at this point, your curiosity has exceeded your anger. You pass by, at hours outside your ordinary schedule, but still, he eludes you. 

And with this little to do, outside of running your errands and working the shop, you become fixated.

You must be stupid. 

Why else would you repeatedly attempt to prod at the open wounds on your legs? They haven’t begun to cool yet, still red and itchy, skin swollen and tender and over-sensitive. It becomes one of those relatively mild inconveniences that is just mild and just inconvenient enough to fill you with pettiness. Bested, by your own foolishness. Your own damnable petulance, that led you to trample through the brush like a child with a tantrum rather than walk the extra stone’s throw around the hill. The fact that the prodding hurts causes greater damage to your pride than it does to the cuts.

With a heavy sigh, you pick up the crisp, thin piece of parchment you haphazardly tossed on the tabletop a few minutes ago with your fingertips and bring it to your eyes again. 

           “Payments outstanding. 

           Failure to provide adequate payment will result in eviction. 

           ~ Lim Goro”

You sigh again, folding the sheet in half and pressing the crease meticulously. It’s no fault of yours that prices have increased; if people do not have wealth to spend, you cannot earn what you ordinarily would. It’s more of an incentive for you to earn him more gold rather than a legitimate threat of eviction, but your landlord is not beyond replacing you with someone else. There are plenty of potential replacements, after all. 

You look upon the empty tables in front of you with a blank stare. There are no more chores for you to do, no more preparations to tend to, nothing to do except sit here and listen to the sound of your own sighs. 

The day slips by, the sun climbing high, high, high in the sky until it hangs directly over you, glaring. So far, you have had a total of one, singular customer. The old man had taken one sip from his cup, looked you up and down, grimaced, and left, leaving a few pieces of copper coin behind on the tabletop. Already, you’re formulating plans for movement. Today has been ridiculously slow, and your newfound anxiety has you wondering whether this is now likely to become the norm. You are in no mood to find yourself evicted, you know you will not find alternative employment anywhere on this godforsaken island. 

You will have to travel on. Which isn’t a problem in itself, more of a mild inconvenience at this stage. It’s just tiring. And you’re already tired. The old man’s presence lingers uneasily at the table despite his having left hours ago, taunting you as you shift your weight from foot to foot. You grow restless in your boredom, picking at threads and scratching your nail against the counter’s rugged surface. Maybe you should just call time of death, move on at your own leisure and on your own terms. Get yourself the hell out of here, away from all these people, and away from whatever’s brewing on the shipyard. 

Or maybe you’ve been too hasty. Because there, just outside your front door, is not the man you’re looking for – but his friend. He hasn’t donned his hook today, instead opting for a burlap sack slung across his shoulder. The sleeveless tunic he’s wearing cuts off at the corner of his shoulder, the light blue textile contrasting the deep, golden hue of his skin. You almost didn’t recognise him. You have only seen him from a distance, after all.

Your hands still as you watch. He tosses something in the air with his left hand, muscles flexing dangerously in the sunlight. Your eyes fixate on the small object as it leaps and sinks in the air. He’s talking to someone, someone out of your line of sight. His jaw flexes as he grins at his companion, tossing the object in their direction. Then, he raises his hand in farewell and shifts the sack farther up on his shoulder, before turning and heading down the street. Your eyes linger on the phantom of his presence, frozen in thought. 

And you do something you ordinarily never would, but which you have found yourself doing increasingly as of late: you make a split second decision. Tossing the rag in your hands haphazardly on the counter behind you, you bolt the front door shut, and begin to follow him.

He turns left, leading you onto the path that ends at market square. It’s a long, slack street on a distinct decline, passing through the abodes of merchants who can afford the steep price of permanent establishments. The path is packed with people and the dust swirls heavily in the air from endless heels kicking up sand. Fortunately for you, he’s taller than most; deep, dark brown hair visible over the crowd. You weave through the mass as best you can, but his strides are longer than yours and somehow someone manages to get in your way with every step you take. 

Your shoulders knock into passersby as you shuffle through the crowd, eyes not finding much sympathy for the endless people who come at you with baskets, sacks, carcasses, and boughs. Your heartbeat thrums under your skin. There are no back streets or paths diverging from this road; it leads directly to the marketplace, so you don’t run the risk of losing him. 

That is, until you reach the end of the road. Any satisfaction you felt at having kept him within sight is immediately quashed by the throng that greets you at the square. You almost trip over your feet as you lurch to follow him, senses working overtime to process the pungent odour filling the air. 

The complete absence of customers at your shop seems less strange, now; men and women with painted faces twist and contort themselves in rhythmic waves across the sands that form the outskirts of the square, near the mouth of the Southern quadrant. They’ve attracted quite a crowd, stunting the masses that charge towards the market stalls on their daily errands. There’s a commotion to your right; from the corner of your eye you see the black spears with glinting, golden tips bobbing above the heads of the crowd, manoeuvring determinedly southwards. 

You’ve lost him. How have you lost him? You only looked away for a moment. You squeeze your way between stalls, eyes darting around frantically. Finally, you spot him at the seaweed merchant’s, talking to the middle-aged woman who sits cross-legged by the small stack of baskets. Retreating a couple steps to maintain some distance between you, you watch as he passes her a couple of copper coins. She lifts the lid covering the largest of the woven baskets, a small smile on her lips. Now that you’re standing closer to him than ever before, you can understand why. He is, beyond all doubt, a very pleasant-looking man. His smile is wide, eyes crinkled, and you find yourself staring at him as though-

Oof. 

The sharp yells at your ear echo in your head for a moment before you register the pain in your shoulder. With wide eyes, you squat to recover the dry strips of bark that have spilled from the man’s hamper. Uttering quiet, yet firm apologies, hands moving hurriedly to save the strips from being trodden on, you feel your heart begin to race. He continues to berate you, voice nasal and high-pitched. 

You stand to give your knees a rest and you’ve lost him. The man’s carping follows you as you begin to weave through the crowd in the direction of the seaweed merchant. Waving the man behind you away with an unsympathetic grimace, you move to stand directly in front of the stand. The woman eyes you unimpressed; you’ve practically stormed into an exchange between her and another customer, chest heaving and eyes wide. 

Quickly, quickly, you pull away and begin to skirt the masses. You catch sight of him after a short while, near the mouth of the Eastern quadrant, reaching into the sack that used to hang off his shoulder. He hands some of its contents to an older man smoking a pipe who sits on a wooden pail near the mouth’s gate; a tall thing made of sand-coloured stone with the Emperor’s emblem carved into its top. A big, bronze gong hangs suspended from the head. The old man hands him something in return, though from this distance, you can’t see what it is. 

With hurried feet, almost tripping over yourself, you move to the gate only to find him gone. You’re on the outskirts of the crowd, now, caught in the debris that circles the swarm. Squinting, you take a step back. Your eyes scan a million faces, searching for distinct braids, but you come up dry. With a heavy sigh, you move around the wall, past the gate. There’s a bit of shade there, sweet, sweet shade, though it has no affect against the heat. Instead, it feeds your imagination. Memories of cool waves and sugary fruits, sunlight that sparkles against the green ocean, salt stinging in your nose and peace pumping through your veins.

You heart catches in your throat as a firm hand latches harshly onto your shoulder and pulls you backwards. You stumble, tripping in the sand. Before you can put your feet back under you, the same firm hand grabs your arm and hauls you up, up, up, into one of the dim alleyways off the main street. 

You can’t decipher the expression on his face, but the slightest trace of a sneer laces his upper lip in a way that almost makes you shrink back into yourself. But his eyes, there’s something in those piercing, blue eyes that truly makes your skin crawl.

“You wanna explain yourself?”

He’s ditched the sack. It’s a good question, actually, because when you think of it, you don’t think you could explain yourself if you tried. What were you planning to do? In all honesty, you were probably planning on following him until you saw something - anything - interesting. You have a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate that as an answer if you gave it. 

His eyes look over you as the silence stretches on, narrowing as the grip on your arm loosens ever-so-slightly. 

“I know you. You’re that teamaker from the Western quadrant.”

Then he frowns. 

“You been following me all the way from there?”

Something in his voice puts you at a greater ease than is reasonable.

“Following you? I… who do you think you are? Why would I follow you?”

“Try again.”

You scoff.

“And how do you know who I am?” you jab, wrenching your arm loose from his grip. “By all accounts, it appears I’m the one being followed. And dragged into some dim alleyway!”

“Careful, girl, you’re not out of here yet.”

“So you admit it, you are following me.”

But his words ring a scary truth; for all the good your sharp tongue does, you still find yourself in a dark alleyway at the mercy of a complete stranger. Shouts grow louder in the square as you size each other up, followed by the unmistakable roar of a blaze. 

Your assailant’s attention snaps to the mouth of the alley. You could slip past him, you think. One swift moment is all it would take. But the orange glow has reached beyond the sand of the gate, seeming so far in the distance and yet so, so close. It won’t be long until its creators follow. 

You count down in your head. Three, two-

The heavy tolls of the Bells of the Gates ring through the air, causing your very bones to vibrate like a tuning fork. The shouts increase even further, both in volume and proximity. A general feeling of deep unrest spreads with the echoes of the Bells. You feel it creep through your body as you inhale, like a heavy gas.

“I have business to take care of in the Western quadrant. You either come with me, or you make your own way back.” 

You blink. The deep, quiet inflection in his voice stands as a considerable contrast to just moments ago. The Bells indicate curfew, effective immediately. The square is undoubtedly in lockdown, which means that your only way home involves navigating your way through either the Southern or the Northern quadrant. At this hour, it’s not a journey you would particularly enjoy making on your own. 

Should have just stayed in the shop, you think. 

“Suit yourself.”

You blink again, watching as he turns his broad back on you and starts towards the gate. The thuds of feet running through sand echo from the street ahead in the walls that encase you. 

“Hey- wait,” you say, scrambling after him. “Hey!”

He scowls.

“Change your mind? I don’t entertain hysteria.”

Now it’s your turn to scowl. 

“I’ll show you hysteria, how-”

“Are we going or not?”

You drag your feet in the sand. You’ve not spoken two words to each other since the Eastern quadrant, with the exception of the occasion where he berated you for kicking up too much sand as you walked. It draws attention, he’d said. You’d bitten your tongue to refrain from telling him anything he didn’t strictly need to know.

You find yourselves on the outskirts of the Western quadrant, now, on a path lovingly referred to as ‘Arson Lane’. Fire nation patrols linger on its corners, keeping a keener than normal eye out for wrongdoers. You stick to the walls, pausing at every corner and listening for voices. The blindness is upon you, darkness shrouding every detail.

“I think we should get off this path,” you murmur under your breath, holding a hand out against his chest in an effort to stop him.

“This is the quickest way through,” he whispers. His voice is close to your ears, the consonants clicking loudly against his tongue. The intimacy of your situation only fuels the fire that boils your blood.

Your passage through the Northern quadrant, though in complete silence, has put you on edge. Heavy, black boots kicking bodies down the streets mar at your senses. You cannot hear any nearby patrols, no orange hue decorates your route, and yet…

“I think we should find another path,” you whisper.

“What would you know,” he grunts. “You’re just a teamaker.”

You jump at the volume of his voice. It’s not particularly loud, but it rings in the silence. You see no movement on the road, nothing to indicate anything is wrong, no…

You grab him by the tunic and pull him, with a surprising amount of force, to the other side of the road. The wall there is short, and easy to climb over. Squatting low, you listen intently. Sure enough, the muted thuds of spear shafts against sand approach in the distance. You can feel his breath on your cheek, restrained like yours, his side pressed against the naked flesh of your arm. 

You hear the patrol as they pass, throwing vulgar quips to each other and letting out drunken laughs. You share a look you can’t quite place with your unlikely companion. It’s strange, seeing him so close. He’s not as young as you are, though exactly how many summers he’s seen, you couldn’t say. Maybe six, seven more than you? 

You stay huddled behind that short wall for a good while after their voices disappear into the night. 

“Have they gone?” he breathes. 

You glare. 

“How would I know,” you mouth. “I’m just a teamaker.”

His features slip back into his scowl, and he pulls himself to his feet and climbs over the wall.

By the time you reach the crossroads that leaves you on your street, you’re not speaking. You push past him and don’t look back. 

But you’ve always been too curious for your own good. Standing in front of your door, you spare a glance in the direction you came. Once again, you make a split-second decision. Darting after him as quickly as you can without attracting attention, you spot him creeping against the walls of a street perpendicular to your own. Peeking your head out from behind the corner, you watch as he slips from the shadows of the walls to knock gently against a wooden window shutter. Not even a moment later, the door glides open. The little light that slips through the crack paints the figure of an old woman, shorter with her years. Without hesitation, he ushers her inside the room and closes the door after himself. 

Your knees feel weak as you trudge up the steep steps of your abode.

part two

© @aeaean--bliss​​; please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works.

[musette22]

He in his DILF era looking like Bucky Barnes forced to attend the Golden globes after a month long mission who just wants to go back home to his cat

😂😂 I think he looks a bit to cheerful and happy to be there for that, but I can see the Bucky Barnes vibes, absolutely!! With that smoulder? Hmmm yes 😌

[navybrat817]

https://at.tumblr.com/ageofmanmp3/you-attract-what-you-fear-oh-my-god-im-so/dg6gmpjvzqde

This somehow made me think of your hilarious tags on your thirst posts! Also, did I mention I am terribly afraid of Bucky Barnes smouldering at me and clearing his schedule??

Thank you for your wonderful writing 💜

Bahaha. I love this, nonnie! Sometimes I hide in the tags. And, yes, a smoldering super soldier sounds nice. Let's manifest this, shall we?

What if demon!Bucky is brought into your life? 😏

Appreciate the kind words for my writing. Can't wait to share more. Love and thanks! ❤️

[lokisgoodgirl]

A Gentlemen's Bond [Female.Reader x Loki/Bucky/Steve]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Set a time after A Gentlemen's Agreement, you and Loki decide to open up your bedroom. And who better to join you? Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Foursome. Smut. FMMM. Includes buttsmut. Cumplay. Consent is sexy. Dirty talk. (w/c 3.7k)

“Make no mistake gentlemen, she is mine,” Loki uttered. The words tripped menacingly from his tongue. He placed a languishing kiss on the curve of your neck to make his point, a soft whimper from your lips making him smirk against the crescent. The men in front of you groaned in unison.

You knelt in front of him on the bed. His bed. The only place your fantasies shall be fulfilled. He had been emphatic about that. “You are but guests here,” he murmured in the loaded, sensual voice usually reserved for when you were alone. The god knelt behind you, upright on his knees. The rippled carving of his firm stomach pressed against your shoulder-blades as he massaged your breasts. Calloused thumb-tips tugged achingly slowly at hard nipples. You whimpered as his hands slid down your waist, steadying one against your hip while the other made lazy circles on your clit. “Rentals, if you will,” he sniffed. At the barb, Rogers and Barnes stiffened. Their tops had been stripped, but the buckles of their belts remained politely fastened. Bucky shuffled, popping his hip with his thumbs tucked inside the waist of his jeans. You saw the flash of deeply muscled lines grooves come into view. Saliva welled in your mouth. Loki chuckled. “I meant no offence,” he purred, dipping his chin to nuzzle your collarbone. “But gentlemen, if our latest bond and its stipulations are to be upheld, then we must be crystal clear on who makes the rules.” Your eyes rose from the bulge of Loki’s flexing forearm as he stroked possessively between your legs, only his thumb visible grazing your mound. They slid from Bucky to Steve, the unmistakeable hunger in their stares making you dizzy. Heavy breaths made their chests rise and fall, broad shoulders shifting as each tried to make themselves bigger. More enticing. Like beasts, you thought with a smile. Ready to mate. “Me,” you said suddenly, biting your lip. Loki growled under his breath in approval. “I make the rules,” you finished.

“Yes, my darling” Loki said, letting his dark gaze wander upwards on the two super-soldiers straining against their trousers, waiting to be unleashed. “You do.” His fingertips cupped against your clit, pushing up. You hissed with pleasure as Steve groaned a long, shaking sigh. “Run through the rules again, I jus’ wanna...jus’ wanna be sure,” he grunted, fingers now drawn irrevocably to the polished sheen of his buckle.

“It is quite simple,” Loki breathed, the warmth of his skin fading as he drew up behind you. His knees sank into the mattress on either side of your hips. Your lover’s fingers massaged your neck, your eyelids fluttering closed on the sight of the soldiers looking sheepish as they fumbled with their heavy buckles. Loki’s voice was hard. Commanding. Fucking hot.

“She and I are bound. She is mine, as I am hers. She is under my protection. This is an invitation. An interlude, do not think it more,” he announced regally, squeezing your shoulders. He might be naked, but from the unwavering strength of his words he may as well have been in full Asgardian battle armour. The men in front of you nodded reverently. You could see the pulse points in their necks thumping. Beneath the tight material of their cotton slacks and dark jeans, snaking muscle stretched thick and tight against their hips. So hard. They were so fucking hard. Loki continued, as their stares smouldered. “If she tells you to stop, and you do not immediately desist?” he said, warning licking at the timbre of his voice like flame. “Before you can finish the next thrust, lick, or wander of an unwelcome hand, you will feel the edge of my dagger slice across your throat. Understood?”

You watched the men cast a glance towards one another, before they gave a nod of solidarity. “Still fair,” Bucky husked, stepping out of his jeans and kicking them to the corner in a crumpled heap. Steve was already folding his, turning to place them neatly on the wing-back chair by the door. “Whatever the lady wants, and nothing more, as agreed in the bond,” the blonde placated as he faced you and Loki with a lowering of his chin. You could feel the god bristle with power behind you. “We just really wanna fuck you babe,” Bucky growled with a smile, his chin tucked to his chest. “Respectfully,” Steve added, throwing his friend a scowl as the winter soldier’s jaw bobbed playfully side to side in mock scepticism. You smirked, feeling Loki lower to your ear. “You’re sure?” he murmured. The long tendrils of his hair wound through your fingers as you tilted your chin to face him. “Yes. But it’s always you. You know that, right?” The words filled the tiny space between your lips before Loki pressed his mouth to yours. His furiously hard cock was swollen snug against your spine. “Always,” he moaned quietly into your mouth. In slow tandem, you swung your gazes to meet the two sets of blue eyes already drunk with lust at the foot of the bed. “May we?” Steve said softly, gesturing to the empty side of mattress on your left with an arch of an eyebrow. You nodded, feeling the tingle of Loki’s breath on your cheek as his hands slid down your biceps. “Positions, gentlemen” he purred formally, “as discussed.” You had left the arrangements of the details of this debauched affair to your lover, a role that he was more than happy to fill. Once again, the idea of the three of them sharing conspiratorial conversations in the locker rooms filled your mind. It was foreplay. You squirmed on the bed, thighs splayed open as the gusset of your panties dragged wet. Or did they book a meeting room, you thought with a thrill.

The mattress sagged on either side, Steve and Bucky descending. Their stares crawled covetously over your curves as Loki loomed above like an archangel; sculpted from marble by Michelangelo himself. The brunette soldier leant forward, his metal palm spread against the sheets as his parted lips met yours. You sighed into his touch, running your fingers over his temple and combing back the long strands while his tongue danced in your mouth. He didn't taste like whisky this time, you noticed. The digits ran down his neck, feeling every tense of the ferocious muscle hiding beneath his skin. Loki’s cupped fingers massaged your clit, waves of pleasure building while his low, ragged breaths ghosted your ear.

Your fingers grazed down Bucky’s back, feeling raised trails and valleys of scar tissue. Bucky shivered, breaking from your lips. A strand of saliva hung between you before you turned, immediately meeting the mouth of the blonde soldier waiting impatiently to your right. The taste of his teammate was still strong on your tongue as you kissed him in a rising waft of ginger from his skin, melting together with your back still pressed to Loki’s chest.

Suddenly Loki pulled you back, letting Barnes slip your calves from beneath you. The brunette pushed your knees apart, thighs falling open. “Fuck, girl” he rasped, running a hand through messy, curtained hair with a sigh, “that’s fuckin’ pretty.” Your head lay against Loki’s lap, his violently hard cock pressed against your ear. You could feel the blood thumping through his veins, every pump throbbing against the angle of your jaw. The god lowered a lingering kiss to your lips, his tongue melting inside your mouth while Bucky’s began to run flat licks against your little cunt. Your pretty cunt. The moans from his throat were different from those you were accustomed to from Loki. Half-formed words lingered on heavy breaths that retained the thick accent slopping against his worship. You moaned like a whore as another set of lips fastened to a nipple, soft fingers toying and pinching the other. Your eyelids fluttered open, the sight of a muss of blonde hair latched to your chest while a chestnut crown rose between your splayed legs. It felt strange. Naughty. And it felt fucking good. Bucky’s thumbs dug into your hips, a shock of metal making you buck into him as cool steel became warmth. Loki’s voice bubbled in the air like liquid silver, the sound making it all feel like a lucid dream. “That’s my girl. Let them service you, pleasure you,” it said slowly. Your fingers wound in the short strands of Steve’s hair, the other grasping a tuft of Bucky’s, urging him deeper. They moaned in unison against your heated skin. The sound was transcendent. “Let them worship you, as I do,” Loki hummed as he watched in rapture, cock twitching against your cheek. “Just for tonight.” The cacophony of sighs dashed against your body like waves on rocks, wearing away any insecurities you ever had with each muted groan of pleasure. The coil winding inside you began to tremble and tighten. Your eyes refocused to Loki’s jaw set above your widening stare. His lips were parted, his whole body smouldering with arousal. Eyes fixed on you, writhing beneath him under the soldiers’ charms. “L-Loki, I’m gonna co-” you panted, seeking his approval in a moment of doubt. His knuckles trailed over the lines of your jaw, over the tight skin as the veins in your neck strained. Your head pressed heavy against his thighs, his fingers steadying beneath your chin as he held you in place. And still, his darkened eyes were fixed on you. “Come for them, sweet. Let them hear how beautiful you sound as you tumble over the edge,” he cooed in sultry tones, loud enough for the men to hear. Bucky suckled your clit with a wet growl, alternating wide licks that started deep in your core to the tip. The captain’s fingers tightened around your nipple, his tongue a soothing balm against the pulling sucks on the other. And with a shudder, you came. Your thighs tightened against Barnes’ head, a hand clawing down Steve’s muscled back as you shook the room with your cries of each of their names. A gush of arousal flooded the winter soldier’s outstretched tongue.

“Lie down, our good girl.” The command made chills run over your skin like the breeze from a fan. You felt Loki shift behind you, his huge frame filling your blurred vision as Steve and Bucky parted like the sea. He was so fucking beautiful, and he was all yours. Completely un-phased. The winter soldier pulled your ankles, sliding your ass to rest on the bed’s edge. Loki gracefully slotted himself crouched between your wet thighs, as you mewled his name. He chuckled, dragging his achingly turgid cock tight in his fist against your slit. “Are you happy?” he murmured solemnly. You nodded with a sex-drunk smile. “Then, gentleman,” Loki purred, casting a knowing glance to each side in turn, “positions.” The head of the god’s cock pressed inside your channel, dipping in and out as you arched up into him. Begging for more. Loki tutted playfully. He was crouching between your spread legs, hovering. “Patience, darling. We must wait for our guest.” On cue, you felt something cool and thick slather between your cheeks. Your hips bucked upwards, caught by Loki’s waiting palms. Relax, his eyes said. And so you did. A solitary ragged moan of anticipation dragged the air behind Loki’s triangular chest. Bucky. You looked up, Steve’s hardened features coming into view. The angles of his cheekbones had sharpened, pupils blown wide. He lowered, kissing you upside down as Barnes fingers played with your ass. Suddenly you felt something wide and hot nudge against your back entrance, testing you. Teasing you. “Yes,” you groaned in between Steve’s ravenous kisses, “fuck-k, yes Buck.” With a guttural moan, he edged inside; stilling as your fingers wrapped around Loki’s forearms. “More,” you gasped, pulling. Bucky obliged. Inch by inch, he filled you until his hips hit the curve of your cheeks with a gentle slap.

For a few moments, there was silence.

Each of the men held their breath, three sets of smouldering eyes drinking in the sight of the woman strewn in ecstasy beneath them. Their woman. If just for one night. “Loki, please,” you whined, thrusting up to catch his cock. All you wanted was to be filled and fucked and filled and fucked again. Loki chuckled, watching as your eyes lowered between your legs at the sight of him sinking slowly inside. The vein that had pulsed against your cheek was hard and thick along his shaft as it disappeared. Inch by goddam inch. The noise that strangled from your throat was inhuman. How appropriate, you mused; before your whole body was set alight with pleasure. Loki rocked in and out your slit, the gentle motion of his ass clenching and unclenching making your eyes roll back. How, you wondered in amazement, as Steve’s tongue massaged your own, his unfettered moans filling your throat; how is this actually happening?

The captain had taken over control of your breasts, his dexterous fingers flipping and pinching your nipples. Each wave was timed, the slow gyration of Loki and Barnes making your legs tremble. Loki slipped his forearms under your knees, hoisting you higher, his cock delving deeper. Bucky gasped gruffly, his girth sinking deeper in your ass. “H-holy shit, man” he stuttered, metal fingers steadying on Loki’s shoulder, “Shit, b-baby...you feel so fuckin’ good I swear to god.” That accent was syrup, dripping from his parted lips as he fucked you slowly. Carefully. As if you might break. And hell, maybe you would. Another climax blossomed like fire on a struck match, taking you surprise as you clenched around the furious lust filling you.

You couldn’t recall whose name you cried. Tonight, it didn’t matter. The men groaned like farmyard beasts, Bucky’s hips beginning to shudder and jolt against soft curves of flesh. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, the slap of his balls against your skin growing louder. Loki slowed the gyration of his hips, the tip of his manhood massaging your g-spot as Barnes roared behind him.

The soldier’s other hand flew to Loki’s shoulder, both squeezing in painful passion. The dark god's head fell back with a hiss as he filled you to the hilt, hair strewn in messy tendrils across his damp forehead while Bucky came behind him with a shuddering litter of curses. Every buck of your hips made sure he sank deeper, rolling with each dying syllable. Loki tilted forward as the brunette’s heavy breaths filled the air. His forehead pressed between your ringmaster's shoulder-blades, hands sliding reluctantly from the thick ropes of muscle on which they rested. “Fuck,” was all James Barnes could muster, as his cock slid gently from your ass. Loki didn’t slow his gyration as there was a changing of the guard behind your head.

Your prince's moans slipped through gritted teeth, half lidded eyes observing every searching twitch of your hands. Every crease in your forehead. Every gasp of his name.

A light sting clapped your ass, immediately massaging deep in the cheeks. You cried out, back leaving the mattress. “Careful!” Loki spat, throwing a dangerous glance over his shoulder. Out the corner of your eye, you lovingly noted the flash of emerald seidr melt from his palm. “Sorry,” Steve murmured, rubbing the surely pinked skin in apology. You squirmed with pleasure, feeling the raw stubble from Bucky’s jaw scratch over your cheek as Loki moved in shallow, pulsing thrusts. The winter soldier pressed your breasts together, beginning to palm them in circles as Steve’s cock nudged against your back entrance, still slippery with cum. A finger ran around the pucker, collecting the neglected white ropes before sucking it clean. The sound he made was filth as he edged inside, a slurping squelch of seed squeezing around his girth making his knees buckle. His fingertips sank into your flesh, pulling you onto him again and again. Carefully. Slowly. “Steve...J-James...Loki,” you mewled, making the men chuckle in unison. You could feel orgasm bubbling in your centre, wound tight and bursting with adrenaline and cum and cock. Bucky lowered his mouth to yours, sweat from his cheeks moistening your own. “You sound real fuckin’ cute when you say our names babe,” Bucky growled, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Y-yeah. Hell-yeah,” Steve gasped through staggered breaths; every pump of his hips into your ass making his eyes roll back. His face was flushed with desire, tongue darting against his bottom lip as he desperately fought to contain what you were sure were the worst curses he would ever utter. Every muscle in your body tightened as you came, the feral roars from Loki and Steve sheathed inside you making you shudder as Bucky held your shoulders fast to the bed. Stars blossomed beneath your eyelids, the erotic music of their adoration making your head spin. Steve came first, pulling your ass flush to his hips as he tumbled into ecstasy with a strangled cry of your name. He was shaking, sweaty palms not knowing where to steady himself before he slumped against Loki’s back. On cue, Loki raised your calves higher, his gentle thrusts turning with a glint in his eye. They narrowed, smouldering down at you with utter devotion as another clench of his ass sent him to the hilt. “My perfect little fox,” he grunted, voice thick with desire, dripping like wax. “End me.” Your fingers gripped the bedsheets as you felt Steve slip from your ass, hearing him stumble against the wall. Clenching around Loki’s cock, you bucked up into him with all the force you could muster. Wrung dry, spent, utterly fucked out – there was always more. For him, there was always more. Loki’s hands gripped your wrists, pushing your hands upwards against Bucky’s chest as his face buried in the sweaty crescent of your neck. He came hard, a violent juddering of his hips accompanying silence before his wet, thunderous exhale of pleasure. His breaths were heavy as he sat up, running a hand through his hair with a grin. As perfect as he ever was, but with a pink tinge in his cheeks. He stood, walking over the bed with a smile as he watched you writhe. Empty and missing them.

“Wait man, didn’t you blow?” Bucky said sceptically. He motioned to the thick cock still proudly bobbing between Loki’s thighs with no sign of abatement. The god chucked, throwing you a knowing smirk. You cleared your throat, still panting. “He’s different-” you mumbled, running your eyes hungrily down your full-time lover’s achingly hot body and back to his face. “Which is a good thing too, since this one is never sated,” Loki purred, as the men switched positions again. “Well goddam,” Bucky muttered, impressed. Your hand grasped out to thin air, searching for someone, anyone, to fill it. On cue, Bucky spread his thighs beside you, your fingers wrapping gratefully around his semi. Steve’s face scrunched, any jealousy washed away with a proceeding squeeze of his fist around his spent manhood. The final milk dripped against your ass. "Ya done big guy?" Bucky teased, a smile tugging his dimples as the captain's resolve settled back on his face. "Nossir," Steve growled, licking his lips as determined eyes roamed up your legs. In a flash, he began working wet kisses up your calves, your thighs, grunts filling the air once again. Bucky's manhood was growing tentatively in your loose fist, wanking him slowly as Loki's thighs settled on either side of your head.

“Jeez man, she tastes so good,” Steve moaned muffled against your slit. Bucky groaned in appreciation while your hand slipped up and down his length. The pace was erratic, squeezing hard and jolting with every circle of Rogers eager tongue around your clit.

“I think that might be me, your tasting,” Loki hummed, knuckles white as he stroked himself slowly above your head. You could see every straining vein on his shaft from below, the wet head tapping tantalisingly on your cheek, on your lips with every squeeze of his hand. Conducting the men like a choir. Just out of reach. “Both of you?" Steve slurred happily to himself, lost in the elixir of arousal between your legs. Fingers worked through Steve’s hair, looping back to clutch more as every messy kiss against your pussy sent you higher. Your back arched, tongue stretching upwards. You managed to lap the smooth, hot tip of Loki’s cock while he watched Rogers busy himself between your open thighs. His hand never ceased pleasuring himself, smouldering with primal need as mischievous glint you hadn’t seen before sparked in his eyes.

“Fuck,” Loki groaned, letting your lips wrap loosely around the leaking head. You sucked against his foreskin, pulling it gently between your lips. “Say his name, darling” Loki teased, voice like sea foam melting into sand, “tell the captain how good he’s making you feel. He’ll like that.” You moaned Steve’s name, filthy praise like a chant as your hips rocked against his mouth. The blonde’s fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your thighs, enthusiastic pants and the crease in his brow betraying his basest desires. Praise kink, you thought smugly; before stars burst again beneath your closed eyelids. Feeling the brush of Loki’s cock against your cheek beneath the flurry of his fist, you came with a rush of garbled curses. Sweetness flooded against the captain’s tongue as he trailed languishing licks, orgasm fading like breath on a mirror. Loki’s stomach muscles clenched, a roar filling the room as he came over your face. Hot splatter coated your lips, rolling in slow, thick trails of ambrosia over your chin, your jaw, down the curve of your neck. Bucky whined. The mattress dipped as Steve’s palms edged forwards, his body rising like goliath between your shaking legs. His mouth glistened with sex and sweat, eyes fierce and dark as hell. That stare traced every decadent rivulet of Loki’s mess before his gaze rose to its owner. “Do it,” Loki commanded slowly, smiling as he continued to stroke himself. A final drop squeezed out, landing with a filthy splat on your chin. Steve shivered, lowering his sweat damp face your shoulder. He licked upwards, growing braver as he followed the trail of Loki’s cum with dirty groans that shook through your chest. Eventually, Steve’s mouth covered yours, alternating between claiming your kiss and licking the remnants of god-seed from your cupids bow. His tongue tasted like Loki. The sensation made you clench around air. “Good boy,” Loki hummed, running his fingers through Steve’s hair as he buried himself in your neck. There was a pause, the scent of animalism thick in the air. “But now, gentlemen, it is time for you to depart.” Steve looked up with wide eyes. You heard Bucky grunt in annoyance. “You know the rules, gentlemen,” Loki continued. You could hear the smirk in his voice. “I think the lady has taken what she needs, don’t you?” The words registered in a haze. You nodded, smiling happily as your head lay nestled between the god’s comforting thighs. “Thanks boys,” you mumbled, slurred while you waved a hand that fell immediately back to the bed. The mattress shifted as bodies rose. You heard the low clunk of metal and shifting of fabric dragging against body hair as deft, familiar fingertips danced up your thigh. A tender kiss was placed on the centre of your mound as the door clicked shut. Alone again. “Happy Anniversary,” Loki breathed, seductive and hot against the tremble. Your let out a spent sigh, lost in the gentle motion of his soft kisses and pretty words. Outside, you could hear the slap of palms on shoulders as the soldiers left in measured silence. “It’s always you, Loki,” you purred again, blissfully winding fingers through his damp curls as he kissed closer to your centre. With a tingle of his magic, you felt yourself cleansed, the sex and sweat of the others dissipated. You craned down with difficulty, seeing feigned confusion etched across his forehead. “Well, yes” he purred, widening your legs with a sultry wink. “Which is why we’ve saved the best for last.”

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[wildspringday]

me watching tfatws trailer: ...that’s just sebastian

[blaizeofglory]

Is this allowed???????

Is this beauty and similarity allowed????

[bobgasm]

lieutenant smoulder [4.5/15]

pairing: bucky barnes x reader word count: 2657 warnings: they’re insufferable assholes, he fingers her, smut, nsfw [18+ only], contains spoilers for future chapters

prompt: “i was made for you”

summary: in which bucky has a secret

author’s note: bonus part from bucky’s pov. contains spoilers – best read after part 8 but takes place between parts 4 & 5

devour | lieutenant smoulder | embers

        Bucky silenced the alarm blaring from the nightstand, but not before Y/N yelled at him to “shut that fucking thing off before I ram it up your ass, Barnes.”

        “It’s really great waking up next to you when you’re screeching in my ear like a bat out of hell,” he said, running a hand over his face.  Wiping the sleep from the corner of his eyes.  “Glare at me any harder and you’ll burn a hole in the side of my head.”

        “One can only hope,” she muttered, closing her eyes and trying to go back to sleep.

        Bucky sighed, folding the cover back as he got out of bed rather than ignoring the alarm and going back to sleep like he wanted to.  Crossing the room and grabbing a pair of boxer briefs from the dresser, pulling them up his legs before snagging yesterday’s jeans from the floor.  Stepping into them and sliding the zipper home, donning the button through the hole before entering the bathroom.  He made quick work of brushing his teeth and washing his face.  Catching Y/N’s reflection in the mirror as she appeared in the doorway.

        She’d snatched his shirt from the bedroom floor.  She’d never worn his clothes before and he didn’t know how that made him feel.  He liked it, sure.  Leaning back against the vanity and folding his arms over his chest.  She matched the action.

        “So you want me to stay but then you’re the one getting ready to leave first thing in the morning?”

        “I have coffee with my mom every morning,” he replied simply.  It was part of the truth, but he wasn’t ready to tell her the rest just yet.  “Would you rather I invite her over here and you have to do the walk of shame with a witness?”

        “It’s only a walk of shame if you regret what you did,” she pointed out.  “I hope you don’t expect me to stay until you get back, because I have shit to do today, Barnes.”

        He didn’t give himself time to second guess his decision.  Taking two long strides so he was in front of her, one hand cupping her face as he commandeered a kiss, the other placed low on her hip.  He could tell she wasn’t expecting it, but matched his ferocity without much prompting.  Her hands placed firmly on his chest, like she wanted to push him away, but instead creeping up to wind themselves in his hair.  His hands sliding down her body, giving her ass a firm squeeze before lifting her off her feet and carrying her back to the bed.

        She groaned softly as he settled between her legs, rough denim against her most delicate parts.  Legs tightening around his waist, his hips grinding down softly.  A delicious moan falling past his lips – one he’d normally be embarrassed of, but didn’t have it in him to shy away.

       One strong forearm kept him propped up, the other enticed her to unwrap her legs from his waist.  His fingers finding her slick heat.  Teasing her clit and earning a moan before sliding home.  They both groaned.  Her teeth clamping down on his bottom lip enough to hurt.  Hands tightening their grip in his hair.  Legs falling open as his fingers worked to draw an orgasm from her.

        He kissed her again.  He really liked kissing her – it was one of the only times she wasn’t arguing with him.  The other time being when she was on her knees blowing him.

        She was close and they both knew it.  He worked his fingers faster, curling back towards himself when he was knuckle deep.  Knowing she couldn’t hold out much longer when he did this.  Her grip loosening in his hair, only to clamp onto his wrist.  Desperate to try and push him away.

        “James...please.  Oh, fuck, please,” she whimpered, so deliriously close she didn’t know what she was saying.  “I’m so close.  So–fuck.”

        He liked her in this state.  Desperate.  Begging.

        “You gonna come for me, hm?”  He asked, voice low.  Mouth dragging over the shell of her ear.  “Be a good girl and come for me, Y/N.  Come all over my fingers.”

        He kissed the corner of her mouth, fingers unrelenting.  Her breath caught in her throat, body resisting the orgasm he coaxed from her, only for her resolve to crumble moments later.  Breathy moans filling his ears, but still, his fingers didn’t stop.

        “JamesJamesJames,” she chanted.

        “That’s it, baby,” he praised, kissing her slowly as she came down from her high.  She whimpered against his mouth as he withdrew his fingers.  He nudged his nose against her own, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before pulling away again.  “Stay.  I’ll be back by nine.”

        “I want pancakes for breakfast,” she told him, letting him kiss her once more before he climbed off the bed.  She hummed as she rubbed her legs together, a content smile on her face as she stretched a little and made herself comfortable in the bed again.

        Bucky didn’t argue.  Instead, he popped back into the bathroom to finish getting ready.  Shaving his face and running a comb through his hair.  Finding a shirt and lacing a pair of boots on his feet before heading out, snagging his phone, wallet and keys on the way, and hoping Y/N actually stayed.

        It never took him more than 20 minutes to get to his mothers’ place.  Because of his change in morning events, he arrived closer to quarter-to-eight than just after half-seven like usual. His mother eyed him curiously but didn’t initially pry.

        “You’re late,” she pointed out.

        “I know.  I’m sorry,” he apologised.  “Thanks for taking Theo last night.”

         “I love having him around.  You know that,” she replied.

         “How was he?  Is he mad I’m late?”

        “He knows you’re busy,” she answered.  “I told him you text to say you’d be a few minutes late, and that he should start getting ready without you.  Don’t you dare make me lie to him again, James.”

        “I’m sorry,” he apologised once again.  “It won’t happen again.”

        “Was she worth it?”

        “We agreed we wouldn’t talk about my sex life.”

        “That was before it interfered with you seeing your son, James,” she stonewalled.  He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.  “You told me you were having a couple of drinks with a colleague.”

        “And I did.”

        He felt like a kid again and he hated it.  He hated being reprimanded by his mother, but he hated that she was right.  His son needed to be put first – before everything else.  And usually that wasn’t an issue.  There hadn’t been a time since Theo was born that he’d ever been late to pick him up from his mother’s – Theo’s grandmother’s, – house.  Until now, and he had to make a decision whether or not he told her who the colleague was.  She’d understand the predicament he was in if he told her, but also he wasn’t ready for the lecture that came along with it.

        “Were you with Natasha?”

        “I told you that’s not a thing,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck.  “Y/L/N was made Barton’s replacement.”

        “Oh.”

        “Yeah.  We’re pissing everyone off at the house, so she invited me out for a drink so we could try and get along.  One drink turned into a couple and she came home with me.  She drives me fucking crazy, Ma.  I don’t know what I’m doing here again.”

        His mother sighed and lightly patted his face.  She gave him a once over – noting the clenched jaw and creased forehead.  Bucky didn’t like the silence.  He was sure she had her own opinion about the situation he’d found himself in with Y/N once again, but he knew that she was carefully choosing her words.

        “Why don’t I take Theo for the rest of the week, hm?  You can keep picking him up for kindergarten like normal, and have dinner with us on Sunday night, but after shift and kindergarten on Tuesday he goes back home with you, okay?  Just try not to be late again, and if you are for whatever reason, give us a call so you can tell him yourself.”

        Bucky nodded his head, pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek.  “Thank you, Ma.  I really appreciate it.”

        “Just promise me he won’t get a baby brother or sister in nine months.  Now go make sure he’s got underwear on.  I’ll finish making his lunch.”

        He thanked his mother again before walking down the hall to Theo’s room, deliberately ignoring the comment about a sibling.  Using the secret knock he and Theo had worked out together, only to have the door fly open .02 seconds later.

        “Daddy!”

        Bucky grinned as he bent down to catch the toddler as he tackled him in a hug.  It was the same reaction he got every morning and he’d never grow tired of it.  Holding Theo tightly as the young boy hid his face in his father’s neck.

        “Easy there, Rookie, you almost knocked me over!”  Bucky teased, lightly tickling his sides.  Theo squealed in delight before giving his dad a kiss.  “Sorry I’m a little late today, bud.”

        “It’s okay, daddy!  You’re here now.  You can help me get dressed.”  Theo gave him a big grin, and just like that, all was forgiven.

        Bucky helped Theo finish getting ready.  Making sure his hair was combed, his teeth brushed, and his shoes on the right feet.  Theo grabbed a sweatshirt, but he still wasn’t sure how to use a zipper, so he asked his dad for help.

        “Hey, bud, how’d you like to stay with Grandma for the rest of the week, hm?”

        Theo’s eyes lit up.  “Yes!”

        “Yeah?  That okay with you?”  Bucky asked, wanting to make sure.  He crouched down in front of Theo, his hands on his sides.  Theo nodded his head enthusiastically.  “I’ll still pick you up for kindy each morning, and pick you up after.  I’ll even try to be there for dinner and bedtime, okay?”

        “Okay!”

        “I love you, buddy.  You know that, right?  I love you so much.”

        “I love you too, daddy.”  Theo wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck, and Bucky picked him up to carry him back out to the kitchen.

        “Tears?”  Winnie asked.

        “No, we’re happy this morning,” Bucky replied, graciously accepting the travel mug from his mother and taking a sip of coffee.  “Do I need to bring anything back for him later?”

        “Nothing I can think of,” she said, tucking Theo’s lunchbox into his school bag and zipping it up.  “Arms out, Theo.  Then you boys are good to go.”

       Theo thanked his grandma and said goodbye.  Bucky gave her a kiss on the cheek and a promise to see her later.  Bucky sipped his coffee as he and Theo left and made their way to the subway, ready to head to kindy.  Theo told him all about the things he and grandma were going to do while he stayed with her and it warmed Bucky’s heart knowing he loved his grandma to bits.  

        Theo’s mom wasn’t in the picture.  She hadn’t been apart of Bucky’s life long – just long enough for a condom to break.  Things had ended before either of them knew she was pregnant, and she’d come back into his life a week before she was due to have Theo.  Back then, Bucky had been shocked, and demanded a paternity test once Theo was born.  Sure enough, he was his kid, and once Bucky had him home, his mom had left.

        It had been hard, and Bucky had relied a lot on his own mother’s help.  After the death of her husband and Bucky’s dad, Winnie had felt like a piece of her was missing.  Having Theo come into her life was the best gift the universe could’ve given her, even if she knew her son wasn’t coping.  She did everything she could to help Bucky, and forced him to take a few weeks furlough after breaking down at work so he could figure out how exactly to raise a baby.

        Natasha had been his only friend at the firehouse initially.  She graduated from the academy a few months before him, so she knew what it was like to be the cadet getting the shit jobs.  She was the one who realised something was going on at home which resulted in his sour mood at work, and he’d told her everything.  In a way, both she and Bucky’s mother had been his saving grace.  Keeping him sane and keeping his priorities straight when they saw him struggling.  Offering to help where they could, and eventually he stopped needing their help as much.  Finding a routine with his mom so he could still work, and to this day they stuck to it.

        Why fuck with something that worked?

        Natasha was Aunty Nat and she loved Theo to death.  After Barton died, he was her saving grace.  She ended up crashing at the Barnes’ for a while.  Bucky couldn’t stand to see her so cut up, and she’d been there when he needed help the most.  It was time he paid back the favour.  So he slept on an air mattress on the floor in Theo’s room, and she took his bed.

        Lines got blurred when she stayed over, and they wound up being a little more than friends.  The sex was good.  Bucky gave her the distraction her body craved, and they both made each other happy.  The entire relationship was short-lived, but that didn’t stop Bucky’s mom from wishing that something more would come of their friendship.

        There were only a few people who knew about Bucky’s kid.  Chief Fury knew, because there’d been a couple of incidences in the past that required him to leave work.  Times like Theo being sick and needing to go home, or the time he broke his arm on the jungle gym.  Captain Wilson and Lieutenant Rogers knew because they’d become Bucky’s close friends, but almost no one else knew Bucky had a kid.  He wanted to keep his personal life private, but if they asked him he wouldn’t deny it.  

        They two Barnes boys arrived at Theo’s kindergarten just before half eight.  Sharing a hug and a kiss before Theo waved goodbye to his father and raced inside the school gates so he could play with his friends.  Bucky waved goodbye once he knew he was happy inside before making his way back home.

        Now he just had to figure out the Y/N situation.  One thing was for sure, though; he knew he wasn’t ready to tell her about Theo.  The decision could easily come back and bite him in the ass, but they were just fucking.  There was no point in having a heart to heart, because that wasn’t who either of them were.  As of right now, she was just someone to keep his bed warm.  Someone to fool around with when they weren’t arguing.

        After the way things ended last time...you’d have thought he learnt his lesson by now.

        Bucky sighed as he unlocked his apartment, breathing in the fresh smell of coffee and heading into the kitchen to wash the travel mug his mom had given him.  Pouring himself a cup and leaving his things by the fruit bowl before making his way back down the hall to his room.

        “Where’s my pancakes?”

        Bucky wasn’t expecting Y/N to still be there, if he was being honest.  So finding her still wearing his tee from the day before, reclined back against the wall with pillows behind her and sipping a coffee was a bit of a shock.  A good one, if he was being honest with himself.

        “Do I look like a fucking IHOP?”

[marvelatthetwilight]

Can I get a Bucky x reader please !!

Mafiabucky! Please

He’s not afraid of anyone unless it’s his 5’2 girlfriend coming into the office interrupting a meeting to tell him he’s an hour late for their date !

I think it will be cute watching a little thing walk in and seeing his face drop and Steve holding in laughs because he knows Bucky in deep shit

A/N: Oh Bucky's in troooooouble. A quick one. Also, only 15 followers away from 1,000, I need to think of a celebration quick!

A quick knock on the door prompts a growl from Bucky at being interrupted. “What?!” He calls out.

“Er…boss?” Peter, one of his newest recruits nervously stands in the doorway.

“I said I wasn’t to be interrupted.” Bucky rests his head in his hands, lifting his head only to pinch at the top of his nose whilst he waits for Peter’s nervous reply.

“I know boss, but she said…”

“She?”

“Miss Y/N.”

A scoff from the side of the room suddenly pulls Bucky from his frustration, a shot of panic rippling through his body.

“Y/N’s here? What did you do Buck?” Steve asks, trying to hold down his laughter.

“It’s more like what didn’t he do Stevie. Thanks Peter, I got it from here.” You pat the young lad on the shoulder before strutting into Bucky’s office, your heels clicking on the expensive wooden floors, your bag hanging at your side, your favourite dress adorning your body, clinging to your curves in just the right places. Just as Bucky liked it.

“Hey…er…hi kitten…” Bucky replies nervously, Steve spluttering from the corner trying not to make eye contact with Sam as they both try to hold in their laughter.

“That’s all you have to say Buck?”

“You look beautiful.” He gestures to your dress, his gaze smouldering as he follows your dress to where it meets your bare legs.

“Of course, I do. But why am I dressed nicely James?”

“Uh oh. She called him James.” Sam whispers across the room to Steve.

Bucky tries to ignore his friends whispering behind him as he attempts to focus on you. He racks his brain to the events of this morning before he left for work.

“You’re always beautiful kitten, always dressed beautifully.” Bucky offers, glancing back at Steve nervously, his friend simply shrugging with a smirk on his face.

“Take a guess James. Why. Am. I. Dressed. Like. This.” You punctuate each word with a step towards him until you’re standing in front of his desk, leaning forward till you are inches from his face. He swallows nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he watches your features for any clues.

Steve gets up from his seat at the side of the desk, squeezing your arm as he passes you.

“We’re just gonna leave you to it. We’ll sort out the other stuff.” Steve calls out to Bucky on his way out, clapping Sam on the shoulder as he motions for them to leave. He sends you a quick wink before disappearing through the door. “Give him hell Y/N!” He shouts through the door as it closes.

You smirk as you look down at Bucky, watching him carefully, his mind working overtime to work out where he has gone wrong. Suddenly his face brightens in recognition, feeling proud of himself before it’s quickly replaced by a look of disappointment.

“Oh doll, I’m so sorry.” He reaches for you, and you flinch away from him, shaking your head.

“We’ve been planning this for weeks. I waited at the restaurant for you, like we planned.” Your earlier angry resolve breaks slightly as your voice cracks.

“Kitten I promise I will make it up to you.”

You lean back down towards him again, faces so close that Bucky could touch your lips in a kiss, but he doesn’t dare. Not after what he’s done. Your eyes glint mischievously, Bucky wrapped tightly around your finger, oh how you would milk this opportunity dry.

“Oh, I know you will Buck.”

Bucky Barnes taglist:

@hamdamnilton @arethosepotatoes @ju5tyna20 @immelissaaa

@Gothkitteh

Those crossed through it won't let me tag you. Please make sure you're following me. If you want to add yourself to my Bucky taglist please click here.

[jamie-leah]

Happy Birthday

Bucky x Reader

Oneshot

Summary: You and Bucky are on a stakeout two days before your birthday except none of the Avengers know when your birthday is and they're all desperate to find out.

Word Count: 3,657

Warnings: Reference/insinuation to sexual assault, blood, violence, swearing, angst, fluff

A/N: So, it's my birthday tomorrow (2nd Feb) and I wanted to give you all a birthday fic. Sorry to my January babies. But happy birthday for the ones I've missed, and the ones yet to come. Enjoy lovelies!

Masterlist

Birthdays were always hard. For some reason for the last five years or so you had always found yourself crying on them, and not the good kind either.

But last year, after being a recruit for Shield for only a few months, you got a call to join the Avengers on a mission or two and since then, you never looked back. They wanted to keep you and so you stayed.

They never knew you joined them on your birthday. Since the day always seems to go so terribly you’ve stopped telling people when it is. You even gave Shield a fake date and had a very, very old friend change it on all digital records that were left of you. Actually, your friend changed a few other things too, but that was to keep you safe.

The Avengers know all this and that means they know your birthday is fake also. They’ve tried to find out the date ever since they realised all your details were fake. It was the last piece of yourself you were yet to give up to them.

They liked to celebrate dates. The day people join the team, any day they reach major personal goals, birthdays. With all the bleakness they deal with, they give any excuse to create a little happiness with everyone.

You didn’t mind not telling them about your birthday, because they would celebrate it without even realising because they’ll celebrate the anniversary of you joining them which was also your birthday and will be in…two days.

You were currently on a mission with Bucky but were due back before the anniversary celebration. Over the last year, you had grown the closest to Bucky. You had grown so close to him that you actually knew you were hopelessly in love with him.

You have never said anything, fearing he wouldn’t feel the same and you would lose the only person to you that feels like they actually know you. All of you. The good, bad, and ugly.

“Hey, did I miss anything?” Bucky asks.

He walks through the door carrying a mug, a bowl, and a water bottle. He hands you the hot mug (your favourite), and sits down in the chair opposite the window, next to yours. He shuffles the chair closer, barely noticeable, but you notice.

You hide your smile behind the mug as you reply, “no, they’re just talking about sports.”

Bucky’s knee rests lightly against yours as he relaxes in his chair. You both pretend not to notice.

“Damn it. I wish they would just spill everything we need so we can get the hell out of here.”

You chuckle, “no such luck, why? You desperate to get away from me, Barnes?”

“God no, but I can think of other ways we could be spending this time than sitting here watching these assholes.”

You bite your lip and arch a brow at the man next to you at his words. He sputters on his water bottle as he also realises, “I mean- we- I- fuck.”

“Fuck? You meant the thing we could be doing is fucking?” you ask knowing he didn’t mean that but love to see him squirm.

He gives you a smouldering look. The kind of look that undresses you with his eyes as he pictures exactly what it would be like to ravage you and have you all to himself. It causes your breath to hitch and cheeks to flame.

Luckily for both of you, Bucky changes the subject, “so, Natasha asked me again earlier. She seems to think I know the answer or where to look for it.”

You glance to the house across the street, smiling, “that’s because you’re the closest to me on the team.”

“I know. She doesn’t believe me when I tell her that I don’t know when your birthday is.”

The chatter from the men you’re staking out on fills the silence. It was a comfortable silence. Every silence with Bucky has always been comfortable.

“Why don’t you tell anyone? Your birthday I mean?”

You hear the sincerity in his tone, but you shake your head.

“What?” He asks.

“I can’t tell you, Buck. It’s stupid. It makes me sound…”

“What?” He asks again.

You just shake your head again.

Bucky places his hand on your knee, “Y/N, this is me. You can tell me anything.”

You lock eyes with him. He’s doing it again. He’s trying to peer into your soul and like every other time, you’re powerless to resist the sea storm colour of his eyes.

“The family I had before you, I loved them. I would do anything for them. I would give them my last penny, my last drop of blood, my dying breath. It’s the way I am for the people I love.

“I’ve always loved getting to know people. I love listening to people tell me stories about their lives, the things they love, the things they hate and why and who they are and why. I’ve always wanted to get to the root of people. I know it’s because I’ve developed a deep curiosity over the years, but I think it also comes from a desire of wanting to be known myself…I get to know some people so that they will know me.

“Alain De Botton wrote ‘perhaps it is true that we do not really exist until there is someone there to see us existing’. And for a long time, I wanted someone to be my witness to my very existence.

“I celebrate the birthdays of the people I love so loudly. I spend hours and hours looking for a gift that tells them that I know them. That tells them I am a witness to their life and who they really are. And I do this because I love them. You have to understand that. I give them that because I love them, not because I expect gifts back.

“But my birthdays have always been quietly disappointing because when their gifts miss the mark time and time again…I don’t care about the money or the gift, not really. It could be the most expensive thing on the planet or something you made but if it misses the mark, it shows me that no one knows me. No one is witnessing my life. It makes me feel…unloved.”

You don’t look up from your lap. Your eyes are locked on Bucky’s hand on your knee, gripping you with a force that will leave a bruise. He whispers your name but still you don’t look at him.

“I don’t tell you or the others my birthday because I’m too scared to know if my new family actually loves me. I’m too scared to know if the people I would lay down my life for are actually witnessing me or…just my ghost.”

Bucky moves to the edge of his seat, his hand leaving your knee as he brings it up to your face. He tilts until you’re looking at him as he swipes at the stray tear on your cheek. He’s staring into your bare soul now and you try not to flinch away.

Bucky stares at every inch of your face. The way your hair sits, the curve of your eyebrows, your glassy eyes staring back at him and the slight parting in your lips.

“Y/N, I-“

You startle apart as music blares through the mic from the men you’re watching. Your heart races but you’re not sure if it was from the music or the confession now weighing in the air.

Neither of you say anything for a few minutes. You watch the men across the street to see them partying. It confirms they put the music on for themselves and not because they thought they were being listened to.

Bucky stands from his chair, his hand extended to you. You look from his hand and up to his face, confused.

“Dance with me.”

You smile, “what?”

Bucky takes your hand and pulls you up and away from the window. He places your hands on his shoulders as his glide to your waist. He whispers, “dance with me.”

The song drifts into the quiet space of the house. The only light in the room coming from the moon spilling in from the window. The night air swaying the curtains.

You sway with them. You smile up at Bucky as he grins down at you and you sway together. You slowly drop your hands to rest on his chest to make room for your head to find its place on Bucky’s shoulder.

You’re not sure how long you dance to the music but when a racier song comes through the mic Bucky spins you out with a giggle and reals you back into him. His arms envelope you until he does it to you again and you struggle to contain the laughter.

The third time he twirls you out, he brings you back only to dip you towards the floor. He holds you like you weigh nothing, so close your noses are touching, and you’re both breathing heavily.

You watch Bucky’s eyes flick down to your lips and back again which has you flicking down to his and back again. He presses you flush to him, your lips brush with his, a feather light touch.

A scream pierces through the moment. You scramble apart. Shots ring out in the night. One, two, three.

You don’t think, you just pull your gun and run down the stairs and out the door of the house you’re in. You know you’re breaking the rules of the mission. It was ears only. Do not engage under any circumstances. Apparently, the information was important. But not more important than a life. Not to you.

You charge through the front door (because the bad guys never expect you to bust through the front door, how dumb do you have to be?) and find none of the men in the kitchen like they were earlier.

You hear another scream come from upstairs just as Bucky comes in behind you. You turn to him, “sweep downstairs, I’m going up.”

He gives you a sharp nod and you race up the stairs as quickly as possible. You clear the rooms on the way to the bedroom.

You decide to kick the door open, giving you the few seconds of surprise. In those few seconds you see a woman tied to the bed and five men standing around her like a pack of wolves.

You don’t hesitate to shoot. One, two, three, four, click. The chamber empty and you curse yourself for not checking the gun on your way over.

You throw it at the guy’s hand just as he gets a gun out, the bullet goes wide. You run at him, grabbing the hand holding the gun to keep it pointing away from you.

He punches you with the other, your lip splitting with the force. You knee him in the balls, fighting the fuzz in your head as you bash the hand with the gun against the wall until he drops it.

Still hunched over from your hard hit to his crown jewels, you take the opportunity to strike him in the temple. He crumples to the floor, out cold.

You pick up the gun and tuck it away as you turn to help untie the woman on the bed, “you’re going to be okay. Lets just get these off and we can then get you to a hospital okay?”

You get one hand untied when Bucky shouts your name from the door way. His tone sets you on edge and has you turning quickly to him only to be met with a knife sliding effortlessly into your stomach.

The guy from earlier grabs you to steady you and twists the knife when a bang bounces off the walls of the small space. The man falls like a sack of potatoes, taking the knife with him.

The blood pours over your shaking hands. Your blood. It flows freely, your world starting to tilt until something catches you. Someone catches you.

You can’t take your eyes off the startlingly bright red covering your hands. You don’t see anything else until Bucky places you on the now empty bed.

His face hovers above you, his hands pressing down on your wound, “Bucky?”

“Hey! Y/N! You with me? I need you to get it together okay? I need you to press down on your wound for me so I can call for help, can you do that?” He asks you with an urgency that you cannot feel through the fog rolling in.

“Bucky?”

He curses, grabbing your hands to place them on your wound. His hands cover yours and he presses down harder than before. Pain shoots across your stomach, a cry ripped from your lips, heat rolling over your entire body.

The pain clears the fog for a time. Bucky asks again, “can you keep that pressure?”

You nod. You watch Bucky take his own hands away, shaking and covered in blood like yours was earlier. He fishes his phone out from a pocket, nearly dropping it. He places the phone to his ear, bringing his free hand to yours and pressing harder again.

It feels like a lifetime before the line clicks and you hear a muffled ‘hello’.

Bucky wastes no time on formalities, “Steve, get a medic here, now! Please hurry…Steve, there’s so much blood…”

Bucky fades out, the blood that’s not leaving you now roaring in your ears. You close your eyes for a moment. You’re so tired.

Bucky drops the phone and grabs your face, giving you a little shake, “hey! No, you have to keep your eyes on me, Y/N. You have to stay awake. The team, they’re coming. They’re not far away, so your stubborn ass is going to wait for them, okay?”

You smile, “I’m really tired though, Buck.”

“Okay, so lets talk about something, yeah? Tell me about something. Tell me something I don’t know.” Bucky places both his hands atop of yours now.

“I know.”

“What is it? Tell me.”

You give him another smile, “my birthday.”

Bucky looks at you in horror. For the first time since he’s known you, he doesn’t want to know the answer. He knows it’s your weird way of giving up, of saying goodbye, but he’d rather keep you and never know.

He shakes his head violently, “no, I don’t- don’t tell me. Save it for the day, you have to stay awake and tell me on the actual day, do you hear me?”

You take your hand from underneath his, bringing it up to his face. You brush a tear away, leaving a mark of your blood on his cheek instead, “Natasha was worried it had passed, that you had missed it. But she shouldn’t have worried.”

Bucky locks his eyes with you again, still shaking his head, but softer now. You say, “this is my gift to you Bucky Barnes. The last piece of me, of my soul.”

As your eyes drift shut, you tell him. The date to your real birthday.

*TWO DAYS LATER*

It was your birthday today. It was also your anniversary of the day you joined the Avengers. You were supposed to be celebrating. Instead, Bucky sits next to you in a hospital bed back at the compound.

They told him that he had stopped the bleeding enough for you to be okay. They said that they arrived just in time to save your life. But you were yet to wake up and he was yet to leave your side.

They pulled him away when they initially landed. Forced him to shower and change and Bucky also grabbed a few other things. But then he headed straight back to your side.

He hadn’t slept since that night. Every time he closes his eyes for longer than a few seconds he gets flashes of that man stabbing you. Of how he was powerless to stop it. How the blood kept coming and coming. He saw his hands coated in red and your eyes closed.

No. He knew he couldn’t sleep until he saw your eyes open again and look at him. He needed to see your eyes again.

He was resting his head on the edge of your bed when you finally stirred. Your hand squeezed his and he nearly leapt out of his seat.

He stands to see your beautiful eyes looking up at him. He rushes to you, his hand brushing your forehead, “hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?”

“Like I got stabbed and nearly died” You manage to croak out.

Bucky brings a cup of water to your lips, “well, getting stabbed and nearly dying will do that to you.”

You laugh and then wince. Bucky apologises weakly as he grins at the sound of your laughter. He always loved making you laugh and despite the slight pain he caused it only proved to him that you were alive and here with him now.

“How long was I out?”

Bucky places the cup back down and turns to another chair in the corner of the room, “for two days.”

When he turns back, he’s holding something wrapped in happy birthday gift wrap. He waits for your eyes to meet his again, “so, I think that means a ‘happy birthday’ is in order.

Your smile withers, eyes glazing over as you recall the conversation you had that night about your birthday.

Bucky walks over, placing the gift in your lap, then sits in his chair once more, “go on, open it.”

You stare at it like a bomb. And maybe in some ways it was.

Bucky pleads with you some more until you relent and pick up the gift. You pull at the ribbon wrapped around the square shape before pulling at the neat paper, “who knew Bucky Barnes was so good at wrapping presents?”

You uncover the wrapping paper to find a photo album. You look at Bucky in confusion.

He just smiles back at you, “remember how I told you that my therapist thought it was a good idea to find a way to capture the good moments in my new life? How she thought it would help me from focusing on all the bad?”

You nod, too afraid to speak.

“Well, she suggested keeping a diary, but she also wanted me to try a new hobby, so I decided to capture all my good moments using a camera which is why you saw me with it so much over the last year.”

You look back down at the photo album. Bucky says, “go ahead, look inside.”

You take a deep breath and open the album to reveal the first few pictures. The first was a side profile of a silver spoon in your mouth. The next showed you looking up at Sam with a grin, a vivid dot of blue ice cream on your nose, followed by a photo of you and Sam. Your arms wrapped around each other, smiling widely with blue around your lips.

It was the day Sam introduced you to bubblegum ice cream. You had never tried it before that day.

You flick the page to find you sitting next to Steve on the floor of the living space. Art supplies sprawled across the coffee table, both your heads bowed over an art pad, the sun burning low behind you through the window.

The next photo was of you and Steve holding up your art pads. His, a perfect depiction of the buildings you were trying to copy and yours, showing a page of rectangles and a stick dinosaur.

You flick again. A picture of you putting coins into a homeless man’s hat, the next of you smiling with him as you talk to him about his life and what you can do to help.

You flick again to find a picture of you reading on a bench in summer. Another of you laying on your back in the grass, eyes closed and music on. Another, looking up at the sky now, just your hand in the shot as you point out the clouds to Bucky, telling him what they look like to you.

Another of you and Natasha dancing at her birthday. A photo of you taking a shot of tequila with the whole team. Another of you and Wanda smearing cake in each other’s faces.

A picture of Tony giving you a piggyback. One of you trying to lift Thor’s hammer. Clint teaching you how to shoot an arrow (which took an embarrassingly long time to do).

There were more, so many more. You look up to Bucky with tears in your eyes, speechless.

He grabs your hand, “the night you told me about your birthday. It broke my heart because all I’ve ever done since the moment I met you was witness you. A bright light in all my endless darkness. I see you, Y/N. I really see you. And if we weren’t interrupted that night, I might have had the guts to tell you that most of my good moments have you in them and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

His words sooth your heart so much that your chest hearts and you couldn’t stop the next words even if you tried, “kiss me, Bucky.”

To your delight, he never hesitates. He leans closer to you, his hands capturing your face, your lips meeting for the first time. He’s soft at first, afraid to hurt you but you run your tongue along his bottom lip, and he deepens the kiss. Your mouths open to each other, exploring until you have no air left.

When you pull away you both whisper, “I love you”, at the same time. Grinning, Bucky brings his forehead to rest on yours and that’s how you stay for some time.