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#bucky barnes hurt comfort
buckyalpine · 2 months
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Need all the angsty, hurt comfort fics rn, pls recommend anything
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Ok I have a angst requests. Unrequited love cause I like to hurt myself,but reader is the one in love with bucky. You can do a sad or happy ending its up to you
the cure
Pairings: bucky barnes x avenger!reader
Warnings: so much angst, hurt comfort, arguing, swearing, minor depictions of violence, blood, slow burn, and some fluff
Word Count: 3.7k
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Thick blood pooled in your hand, gathering like an expensive wine, traversing the lines in your palms before dripping thickly down onto the pavement below. A piece of broken glass had scathed at your hand as you were climbing out a window in an attempt to leave the building swiftly. While you should have been more concerned about the risk of tetanus or the multitude of other blood diseases you had just exposed yourself to, the thought of those didn’t trouble you much. 
Bucky. He was the first thing to cross your mind. You knew he’d fuss once he saw the blood pouring out of your hand, insisting, practically begging to help. It felt awful to admit, but his attention was addicting. 
He was always so much sweeter when you were hurting, so much softer. Instead of fretting over your injury, you fantasized about it. The panic that would descend in Bucky’s eyes, clouding his pupils, the tenderness in which he’d offer to wrap your hand. The maddening satisfaction that he cared about you deeply enough to worry. 
It was masochistic, it was sick. Sometimes you thought you were sick. But you hadn’t gotten hurt on purpose, of course not, this was just an added benefit to the pain. 
On cue, he rounded the corner, huffing out, “Alright, I got the hard drive we needed, let's head out before the cops show up.” 
You didn’t respond with words, instead, you outstretched your palm toward his direction, like a beggar reaching for alms. You studied his face, nipped and bitten red by the cold night air, the way his brows furrowed at the revelation. Even in the modest light of the alleyway, you could see the concern melt into his face. 
“Oh, doll, what happened?” Bucky asked softly into the night, gently taking your hand to inspect for any further damage. Sirens were nearing in the background, the breeze whispered against your skin, causing a shiver to travel down your spine. 
Doll, he called me doll. 
That was his pet name for you, sparsely used except on the occasion when he believed you needed an extra bit of kindness from his direction. Doll was reserved for severely scraped knees, sprained ankles, nasty bruises on the arm, and, now, for glass in your hand. Your actual name was for all other occasions, for casual conversations, late-night talks on the roof, and group settings. You hated it.  
“Did you scrape anything else? Are you okay to walk?”
I could fly if you’d ask. 
“Yeah, I’m good. My hand needs help though,” you answered. He tugged at his shirt sleeve, ripping off a decent chunk of fabric near his wrist. 
“I don’t think anything got stuck in there, but I’ll take you to the Med Bay just to be sure.” He wrapped the blue fabric around your hand as he spoke. 
Just as quickly as you had caught him, he was slipping through your fingers. He’d drop you off and in the morning he’d be normal Bucky. Not mean or cruel but something much worse; disinterested. Your attention would be thrown towards another person as you floated in the background like a forgotten shadow. 
“Could you bandage it when we get home? I’m sorry, I’m just really tired.”
Bucky shot you a concerned look before studying your face more. “If that’s what you want, doll.” A weak smile cracked on his face before his face returned with worry. He went to wipe a small smudge of dried blood that clung to your forehead. Momentarily, you convinced yourself he was going to lean in for a kiss. 
“Let’s get you fixed up,” he added gently, wrapping your hand before ushering you into your getaway vehicle. 
Your heart tightened in your chest as your throat stung with disappointment. He would be yours for the night. You silently tried to convince yourself that this would be the last time you’d reach for his attention. This isn’t love, this is pity. He was being a good friend, a dutiful soldier. 
“You’re going to worry me to death, you know that?” He glanced over as you attempted to put on your seatbelt. “Here,” he whispered, reaching across to adjust the buckle for you in fear your hand would start gushing more blood.
“Promise?” you sighed, gazing longly at his side profile as he began to drive. 
-
“Steve’s always moving the damn rubbing alcohol,” Bucky grumbled as he dug through the kitchen’s medicine cabinet. The lights above made a low humming noise, the only sound to accompany Bucky and you. 
The air felt thick as you sat patiently at the island, studying your hand in the warm light. Everyone else was either dead asleep or several states away, allowing Bucky and you to remain in the kitchen undisturbed. Alone. 
He sighed triumphantly, pulling out the faded grey bottle before ushering you over to the sink, “C’mere, we need to rinse it first.”
Shuffling out of your seat, you gently spoke, “Thanks, again, I really appreciate it.” The cold floor tickled against your bare feet, causing you to shiver lightly as you moved. 
“Of course, I couldn’t leave my partner high and dry.” He guided your hand under the cool running water. By now, you had stopped actively bleeding. The blood had dried, floating down in flakes of browns and reds as it swirled around the sink before falling down the drain. Your eyes remained on the faucet, trying not to catch Bucky’s gaze that was barreling into your temples. 
Bucky’s hand was gently wrapped around your wrist in an attempt to control your quivering. The heat radiating from his body wasn’t enough to warm you up.“You’re shaking like a leaf, are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
Feeling your face grow warm, you cleared your throat. “I’m just cold, that’s all, Buck.” You swiftly moved your hand back to your side and silently reached to grab a paper towel. Part of you believed the longer he held onto you, the sooner he’d realize this odd game he was unknowingly partaking in. 
“Here,” he said softly, wrapping his jacket around your arms. “It’s not much, but it should keep you warm until you go to bed.” 
Mouthing a small thank you, you readjusted the leather around your arms. It smelled like his cologne, a warm coffee scent that lingered around all his clothing. 
Standing in silence, you turned to face Bucky, who was now just inches apart from your face. His eyes began to traverse your face inquisitively, as if he was trying to find a secret tucked between your eyebrows or hiding on your cheekbones. 
“Doll?” he lulled so quietly you weren’t sure if he had spoken. He reached for your hand, slowly dabbing the alcohol on your wound. He stopped for a second, eyes glancing up towards your face, waiting to see if you were flinching.
It was as if you couldn’t move. His stare alone had turned you to stone, bolting your tired feet into the tiled ground. Is he onto me? “Yes, Bucky?”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it was just a scratch.”
“No, I meant is everything okay with us.” 
It felt like you were swallowing rocks as your mouth ran dry. He had a disappointed glint in his eyes as he awaited your response with bated breath. 
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” The words fell seamlessly from your mouth, almost convincing yourself for a moment. Out of all the questions he could have prompted, this wasn’t the one you were expecting to tumble out of his mouth. He mindlessly gnawed at his lower lip, unsatisfied with your answer. 
Bucky slowly began to wrap a bandage around your hand. “Did I say something? For the past few weeks, I feel like you’ve been. . . distant. You don’t talk to me anymore, except on missions, and you’re quiet on those too. I thought you needed space, but now- now I’m not sure. What happened to us?”
Us, us, us, us, us, there is not us, stop saying us. 
Guilt was bubbling in your mouth as you clenched your jaw. You weren’t trying to hurt his feelings, you never were. 
“Life,” you shrugged. “You’ve been dating, I’ve just been more into work. We’re fine, though.” You smiled lightly, fighting back the burning shame that was rising in your throat. “I guess this is just what happens when you grow up.” 
“Y/N, I haven’t made it to a second date with anyone yet, you have nothing to worry about,” he reassured, taking your uninjured hand in his. “Our friendship means a lot to me, whoever I date knows you’re part of the package.” He was smiling, sure the misunderstanding had been cleared up by now. 
Your heart cracked when you heard your name. Doll was gone for the night, now in her place was what felt like a half-baked version of a person. Feelings of embarrassment and shame began flooding into your body again. This was you why didn’t say anything, held your tongue instead of telling him how you felt. 
Because you weren’t the girl he’d take out on dates. 
You weren’t even the girl he’d take to the movies.
No, you were who he came home to. Always waiting patiently for him to come back, like time froze when he wasn’t home. You were a stand in for whoever he’d find to take your place. 
“Thanks,” you could feel your voice dangerously close to faltering as you took off his jacket, shedding it like an old skin. You briskly made your way out of the kitchen, hoping he didn’t catch the deep set frown on your lips.  “Goodnight, Bucky,” you called back before making your way to your bedroom. 
It was humiliating letting someone have this much power over you. Even worse, he either didn’t notice or he didn’t care. 
“Goodnight,” Bucky murmured, eyes sadly gazing at the discarded jacket that now rested on the counter instead of your arms. 
-
Snow was softly collecting on the ground outside. Lazily, you remained curled up against your window, watching as the flakes descended from the sky and onto your backyard. A warm cup of tea was curled around your hands, warming your fingertips. 
Today is going to be a good day. 
A whole month had flown by and you hadn’t thought of him once. Well, not for long, anyways. Bucky was off on some secret operative mission in Eastern Europe while you remained in New York. It was easy to lose track of time in your endless hours of paperwork and countless mini investigations. When you weren’t working, your time was devoted to getting lost in museums and exploring any hole in the wall restaurant you could find by yourself. If no one was going to take you on a date, you’d decided you’d take yourself. 
I just needed some alone time. 
A gentle knock came from your door, you remained still, sure Natasha was just checking in. 
“It’s open,” you called out, still admiring the snow from the comfort of the heated indoors. 
I like this version of me. 
“Hey,” a familiar tone chimed out, warm and low. 
Your head snapped towards his direction, eyes widened with surprise. Bucky stood just feet away, a shy smile on his face, more than the usual amount of stubble peppering his face. The air felt thick all of a sudden, the walls too close together to breathe. 
“Your hair. It’s longer.” Was all you could manage to get out, gripping your cup so hard you thought it might break. 
“Oh, yeah,” he responded, self consciously running his hands through his chestnut locks. “I couldn’t really cut it for a while. I just showered and shaved, but I wanted to say hi.”
“It looks good,” you reassured, a familiar feeling rising in your chest. You couldn’t smile in return, instead a hesitant look still lingering on your face. 
He wasn’t supposed to be back this soon. Yes, you were glad he was home and more importantly that he came back in one piece, but you had been silently dreading his return for weeks. 
Things can’t go back to how they were. 
“Can I come in?” 
“Sure, I was about to lie down though, I’m feeling a bit tired.” 
Lie, your mind growled as he slowly walked in. He perched at the window sill besides you, gazing outside. The bright light of the snow reflected back on his features, slightly washing his face out. He was glowing. 
“You look paler.”
“You’re observant today,” he chuckled, turning to look at you. You quietly told yourself you wouldn’t look back, maintaining a faux interest on the outside scenery. 
A few minutes of silence passed between you two. It was peaceful and allotted your heart the chance to stop racing and the butterflies in your stomach to settle down. Sipping lightly at your tea, you could feel Bucky’s eyes back on you. 
“It was kind of lonely.”
“Sorry to hear.”
“I thought about you a lot.” 
You let his words hang in the air for a moment. Just a few weeks ago and you would have been vying for his attention, his secret affections he only exchanged when you were wounded. Now? You weren’t sure anymore. 
“I missed you everyday,” he cooed, gently going to place his hand on top of yours. 
Without thinking, you jerked yourself away, spilling the steaming peppermint tea all over your lap. A nasty hiss escaped your lips as you jumped off, praying the burning sensation would melt away as the liquid fell off your lap and onto the floor. 
Bucky was immediately on his feet, snatching the cup from your grasp before it could shatter to the ground and cause further issue. A firm arm had wrapped around your waist in an attempt to keep you on your unsteady feet. 
“Are you okay-”
“No!”
“Do you want me to-”
“No,” you corrected, shimmying yourself from his grasp. “No, I mean I’m done, I’m done with this.” 
His feet remained planted, unsure whether you wanted him to reach out or stand down. 
“You. . . you can’t keep doing this to me,” you sighed indignantly, clenching your hands in frustration, unsure where to channel your emotions. 
“Doll-” He had a honey like sorrow in his voice; sweet, slow. His eyebrows turned up in confusion and hurt. 
“Could you just stop! I can’t figure you out. One moment you’re sweet and telling me how much you missed me but then the next your off fucking some random girl before you come back home and play fucking nurse with me.” 
Venom was lingering in your voice as you spat out your frustrations at Bucky, months of built up resentment and anger finally boiling over. 
“Can we talk about this later, you just spilled boiling water all over yourself.” His calm tone only seemed to infuriate you more. He took slow steps towards you as if you’d jump out and bite his head off if he weren’t careful. 
“I’m fine!” you challenged back. The adrenaline coursing through your body was enough to distract you from the burning feeling on your thighs. 
“Clearly not,” he began to challenge back, exasperated. “You’re acting like I’ve just shot you, all I did was say I missed you. Is that not how you feel?” 
“Get out.”
“Doll.”
“Bucky, I know you’re not dumb,” you groaned out in frustration. “I’ve liked you for months and if everyone else has picked up on it, I’m sure you have too. You don’t have to like me back, but you don’t get to go around saying ‘I missed you’ and then act like I don’t fucking exist unless I’m bleeding or burned. You’re being mean to me.” 
“I can’t fucking read you at all.” It was his turn to bite back. An indignant scowl was situated on his face. “One moment you act like you can’t bandage you’re own fucking hand then you’re scurying away like some stray cat when I try to have a conversation. When you act like you want space, people usually try to give it to you, Y/N. I don’t think you even know how you feel.”
“I know you only give a fuck about me when I put on some stupid damsel in distress act. Do you know how that feels?” 
“And you only act like you’re not scared of me when you want attention. And I’m a fool enough to give it everytime. Do you know how that feels?”
He shot your own words back at you in a way that was so uniquely painful, you both stood there in silence, taking shallow breaths in after your screaming match. 
“Is that how you feel?” you asked matter-of-factly, voice steady. 
“I’m sorry-”
“That’s not an answer,” you said softly, the anger withering from your voice and replacing itself with an old fatigue. 
“Sometimes, yeah.” Bucky matched your low volume. It took everything he had in him to not step forward and pull you in a tight embrace, whispering sorry until his voice went hoarse. “I’m used to people being frightened. It hurts when you do it, though.”
“Your hookups don’t seem to be afraid.” You internally winced, wishing you would’ve phrased that better. 
“They’re not you.” 
“If you like me so much, why not ask me out?” 
Bucky took a moment to glance you over, tracing your outline with his eyes. You were inches away and he still felt like he missed you. 
“I have problems and three lifetimes worth of baggage. I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re more than just collateral damage.” 
“We’ll hurt each other eventually. That’s life.”
“I don’t want to hurt you at all.” 
“Bucky,” you began to fiddle with your hands, hoping to avoid his eyes. “Maybe we should give each other some space.”
“But,” he desperately reached out for you, cupping your face lightly, anguished in his eyes, “I like you.” 
“But you don’t want to be with me. Liking me isn’t enough.” You were looking up at him, an injured look on your face. You couldn’t tell what was making your body ache more, this or the burn on your lap. Slowly, your hands went to rest atop of his before removing them from your face. 
“Are we still friends?” 
“I don’t know.”
“Can I at least get you an ice pack for your lap.”
“No, it’s okay. I take care of myself.”
-
Sunlight began streaming into the Grand Central Terminal, tickling against your skin as you walked around, luggage in hand. The snow was merciful enough to stop piling on the ground for a few days, allowing your 7 A.M. train to run on time. In under an hour you’d be boarding a one way trip to D.C. 
The new year had just begun, it was time for a fresh start. A start that was far enough from New York to make you forget about the city. The people who lingered about the city. A certain person from the city, to be more exact. 
A confused look settled on your face as you tried to find your exact stop before you drifted for the next half an hour at one of the local cafes. From the corner of your eye you could see something hurtling towards your direction in a frenzy. 
It was him, hair disheveled and face wild with surprise. Bucky looked like he had just rolled out of bed before coming here, sleep still desperately trying to cling to his eyes. 
There was no point in trying to duck in the crowd, he had his eyes locked on you as you stood. 
“Y/N,” he called out, hoping you’d echo back with his own name. 
“Bucky?” you spoke out, only loud enough for yourself to hear, his name a secret on your tongue.  
“Don’t get on that train,” he gasped out, trying to regain his breath as he stopped short in front of you. 
“I’m not, my train isn’t here for another 35 minutes.”
“Alright, give me a second then. Sam told me you were leaving this morning and I got here as fast as I could. I also just ran the past 10 blocks. Fucking traffic,” he huffed out, running an exasperated hand over his face in order to regain himself.
“What are you doing here?”
“Wait,” he pleaded, putting his hands out in defense. “Before you tell me to go away, I just needed to say something. Then you can curse me out all you want, I’d understand.”
“I don’t want to fight,” you mumbled, slightly wounded he was still ready for a fight even now.
“I’m a fucking idiot. Severely. Here I have, the most amazing woman I have ever met, who’s funny and kind and smart as well as beautiful and I was too much of a dumbass to treat her right. I’m insecure. I don’t like myself and I get scared that when other people get too close, they’ll see what I see, and they’ll want to go away.” 
You noted the passersby that were stopping to spectate your scene. “Bucky, you don’t have to-”
“I want to, I want you. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend and I’m sorry I made you feel used. But I don’t want to lose you.” 
Time slowed, all of a sudden the air felt too light and no matter how much oxygen you sucked in, it was never enough to satisfy your lungs. The rise and fall of your chest felt like a shake, battering your organs as you breathed in and out. 
“Are you asking me to stay?” you asked, unsure what to do with this information. 
“I’m asking that you let me follow you wherever you go. I don’t care if it’s New York, D.C., or the middle of nowhere, I just want to be with you.”
A decent crowd had circled around the two of you by then like vultures, waiting for a murder. The grip you had on your suitcase seemed to slip from your fingers as you moved towards him. You threw your arms around his torso, taking in a deep breath; it was like you could breathe again. 
“Promise?”
“Promise,” he whispered against your temple before planting a soft kiss on your forehead, entangling his arms around your body. You could feel the way his body shook like a wilting flower, the excitement at which his heart thudded in his chest. 
“Let’s go home, Bucky.”
“Of course, doll.” 
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lovelybarnes · 2 years
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midnight haircuts- b. barnes
pairings: bucky brnes x reader warnings: hydra trauma, mention of nightmares, past wounds, this absolutely headcanon a lovely requester has about: request! reader cuts bucky’s hair
eyes closed, your fingers dance to bucky’s side of the bed, expecting warm muscle to trail down until they find his own digits. you hum disappointedly when there are only cool sheets, eyes opening hesitantly as fingertips reach the edge of the bed. the darkness is profound when you sit up, silence loud as you struggle to adjust.
enhanced ears catch shaky panting hidden behind walls and caution, and your eyes finally fall to the gleaming sliver at the bottom of the bathroom door, brows furrowing as you push yourself up to your elbows.
“bucky?” you call softly, but there’s no sign of acknowledgment. recalling your boyfriend’s restless movements not too long ago, you inhale sharply, stepping toward the door fast, pressing your ear to the wood, freezing when you catch stifled whimpering. “bucky, honey? is everything alright?”
when there’s no response again, you rap your knuckle gently against the door, unsurprised at the resounding quiet.
“i’m gonna come in, okay?”
you twist the doorknob slowly, blinking blearily when the light of the room spills onto your face. red eyes and shaky fingers greet you, sharp scissors tight in bucky’s grip when he turns toward you, startled.
“sweetheart? bucky, what are you…” it takes a moment for you to comprehend the scene, to take in the streaks down bucky’s face, his hands trembling firecely. long hair loops around his fingers, tugged occasionally in his chattering pants. understanding shatters you immediately, remembering the memories bucky had pushed through wavering lips, and your exhaustion falls away to grim realization.
“i had a…” bucky struggles to speak, a hiccup slicing through his words. he squeezes his eyes shut, grasp tightening on the scissors. they move too close to his face haphazardly as he tries to push air into his lungs. “a nightmare. i just—i need it off, i can’t—” his face crumples.
“okay,” you breathe, cautious in your movements as you reach for the scissors. he lets you take them easily, falling into your hands when you cup his face to wipe his tears. he stutters through a breath. “why don’t we try going in the morning? with someone who knows what they’re doing and—”
bucky shakes his head sternly, shuddering as he calms himself. “no. no, they’ll—they’ll cut me, they’ll—” his eyes shut. “it’ll hurt.”
you examine his face, watch his fingers as they tense and pull at locks of his dark hair. gently, you reach to untangle strands from skin sticky with sweat. “okay.” you nod. “but you’re shaking right now, baby, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
bucky sniffs, finally opening his eyes. “will you do it for me?”
you falter for a second. “i don’t… i don’t really know how to cut hair.”
“please.” the plea is broken, lips pursed as he holds back more tears.
“okay,” you agree. “of course i will.”
bucky nods stiffly, the movement erratic. “you won’t hurt me,” he says. you’re not sure if it’s an assurance to you or himself, but he trusts it anyway, repeating it under his breath. “you won’t hurt me.”
“i won’t,” you reassure, taking a step back to stand behind him, slipping your fingers through the handles of the scissors. bucky’s trust is in your hands, shaky but sure, and you scrounge in your brain for any memories of hair cutting, any videos you’ve watched, or tips you never cared to pay much attention to.
taking a breath, you begin to run your fingers through his hair, gentle, trying to remember the sweet moments when there’s a miscellaneous show on the television and his head is in your lap, attention on the feel of your fingertips. he flinches and you slow your movements, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “are you okay, bucky?”
he pushes out a nod and a deep breath.
“okay. i’m going to start to cut. if it gets to be too much, tell me, okay? i’ll stop.” he confirms quietly, and you split your attention between the hair in the spaces between your fingers and bucky’s expression in the mirror.
you make the first cut delicately, and strands of black flutter to the bathroom floor. bucky’s eyes follow them as they fall, inhaling sharply. “i’m okay,” he forces out.
glancing at reddened eyes, you make another one, combing his hair out afterward. “you’re doing so well, baby.”
another slice of the scissors, and the sound seems to touch something in bucky, chest unmoving as he stares downward. you realize what he’s doing a few snips later. “hey,” you call softly. “it’s okay to cry. you don’t have to hold yourself back.”
you go back to cutting after a moment, a hand sneaking to his shoulder to squeeze gently. he relaxes a fraction against your touch, a tear slipping past his eye.
another cut and bucky sniffles, meeting his reflection. “the clippers are on the… the sink.”
“okay. i’ll get them. you’re doing great, my love.”
the sound of them when you plug them in makes him flinch and his face to screw up, fisting his hand. you shut it off and put it down, dragging your hand down his chest to his. “take my hand,” you instruct gently. he obeys easily, his hold tight. you find his eyes, giving him a small smile. “i’m almost done,” you promise. “i think.”
he grunts out something reminiscent of a laugh, and it makes you smile. you squeeze his hand. “i’m so proud of you, bucky.” with a final squeeze, you detangle your fingers, turning the device on again. bucky’s reaction isn’t as severe this time, but he’s still as a statue when it meets his head. “how’re you doing, honey?”
“okay,” bucky simpers.
“almost done,” you assure, precise in your movements as hair falls. when you move it away and catch his reflection, you’re surprised to realize you’re finished.
“done,” you inform in a breath, relief obvious in its vines around the word. bucky’s shoulders aren’t as strained, and he blinks at himself in the mirror.
“you’re done?” he echoes. distant, surprised.
you offer him a tentative smile and a careful nod, soft steps padding around so you can observe his pretty features pinched. “i’m all done, baby. you did so good.”
“it didn’t hurt,” he says. then, “thank you.”
“i’d never hurt you, honey.”
his eyes finally meet yours. “i know.” a nod, more eager as a hand snaps to his hair, now cropped short, uneven. he offers a crooked smile. it’s shaky, but it’s as beautiful as you’ve seen it. “of course i know.”
you brush hair off of his shoulder, examining his face. saccharine thumbs wipe at wet cheeks. “how are you, bucky?”
“i’m tired,” he admits. “can we go back to bed?”
“yeah.” you offer him your hand, squeezing lightly when he accepts. “c’mon.”
he follows slowly, watching as you lead him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom again, examining the movements of trusted fingers as they flick the lights off. the darkness is comforting with your hand in his, rubbing comforting shapes into the dips and ridges of his hands.
you lay him down first, the dark shadows of your face highlighting the radiance of your irises. he reaches for you when you pull the covers over the both of you, and you’re quick to respond, letting him tuck his face in between the crook of your neck.
his sighs are gentle puffs of air against your collarbone, arms tight around you as you run fingers through his newly cropped hair.
“thank you,” he whispers when you’re near sleep, and you brush your lips against his head as if to say you’re welcome.
“anytime, bucky,” you say sleepily. “i’ll learn to cut hair professionally for you, honey.”
bucky’s chuckle is rough-edged and splintered, but it’s enough for a start. he kisses the fragile skin of your neck in gratitude once more before letting himself drift to sleep.
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thornsnvultures · 1 year
Note
CHANGE with bucky? Maybe reader notices he's favoring one side or limping (ignoring his injuries as usual)
[ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 ] ― sender notices something different about receiver ( injury / haircut / tattoo / piercing / etc )
♡ sorry this took so long, hope you like it ♡
☆ bucky x gn!reader, light hurt/comfort ☆
~~~
"Sup, jerk."
"Hey, loser."
Bucky ransacks the communal kitchen after passing through the living room. The rustling of plastic bags and the clinking of ice tell you you weren't seeing things when Bucky walked into the Compound living area with an extra lean to his step.
"Bring me a can of soda, please, Buck?"
He sighs knowing he's been caught and the fridge opens and closes one more time before he waddles into view. You pat the pillow leaning up on the arm rest and lift a warning brow.
"Sit."
Bucky rolls his eyes. He may have gotten out of going to medical, waving away his pain from Steve, but he knows better than to fight with you. So he sits and, when you give him a pointed look, puts his feet up, icing his sore knee.
Satisfied with his reclined pose and the cold can you popped open you go back to the game you were playing when Bucky walked in. Watching you play these games always makes Bucky tired. There's so much going on on screen, too busy for his brain to process after a busy mission. He doesn't get why you play to decompress, but that's fine. Everyone has their own way to cope.
You pause the game when Bucky starts to doze off, his head resting on his shoulder, left arm hanging off the side of the couch like dead weight.
Careful of his fluffy sock covered feet -- you had gotten him and Steve matching pairs for the holidays -- you lean over and pull his arm up, draping it over his chest before pulling the blanket hanging off the back of the couch over his sleeping form.
"Night, jerk."
Bucky turns in towards the back of the couch, the ice pack sliding off his knee. You lean over to adjust it and hear him grumble in his sleep, "Love you, loser."
~~~
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dailyreverie · 2 years
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bucky prompts “sit still” “i’m fine” “you’re bleeding” and “how long have you been like this?” plsss
A/N: This one also goes to @starksweasleymain who requested the same prompt + "who did this to you?" + a hint of enemies to lovers. This was hard to keep in a blurb and at 916 words its safe to say I failed lol. Thank you both for requesting!
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word count: 916 words
CW: Blood, mentions of being shot.
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[gif by @bloodvows]
When you parted ways after being discovered, your legs carried you as fast as possible to the Quinjet. The hits you took had not been able to stop you, not when your life was at risk in that sketchy place. No one had reached the ship yet, and the lack of response from a crappy com malfunction only added to the anxiety.
What if they had been caught? What if you were the only survivor? What if you had to go back to the compound all by yourself?
All those questions filled your body with a tingling anxiety that made every muscle and bone ache, walking from side to side trying to ignore the pain as your mind keeps doing laps around every possible scenario. That is, until heavy boots crashing against the metal ramp reach your ears and Bucky's frame appears on the door.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" The whole let's part ways and meet back in the plane had been all his idea, all his brilliant plan, and now you had no idea if the rest of the team was even alive. "That was really all you could think of? Part ways?" It was fear what carried your voice. Bucky couldn't say anything else, but he eyed you up and down and began walking towards you with caution.
"Okay, calm down, you need to-"
"Hell no, Barnes. I'm not calming down! This was an awful idea since the beggining and you know it!"
"This is not time for this!" Bucky bit his tongue to avoid snapping at you even more, as it usually went after missions with you two; he sticked to a roll of his eyes, until they opened up troubled at the sight of you. He reached his hands to your shoulders, same hands you avoided with a shrug.
Your harsh words kept hitting his ears, Bucky looking at you with frantic eyes as you limped from side to side, until he crossed the cockpit again and held your shoulders against your will. "You have to listen to me!" Bucky snapped.
"What the hell do you have to say, James?"
"You are hurt." He looked at you confused. How could you not feel that?
"I'm fine." You challenged, looking up at him determined to win this exchange.
"You are bleeding!" His suddenly panicked voice stopped you, and made you look down to where his metal hand was now holding you. So it was not anxiety making your body ache... "You were shot." Bucky added, looking for your eyes seeking for permission to move you.
The gentleness of his hands was something you had never experienced as he guided you to the closest seat, one hand on your side where blood was still coming out and another hand on your back to support you. Under his instructions, you lifted up your shirt so he could get a clear view of the wound. You hissed from the friction caused by the movement, grasping Bucky's shoulder when he began cleaning around it.
You stayed in silence for a while, letting him heal you in complete and utter quietness.
"How long have you been like this?" Bucky spoke first. His hand was still pressed to your body, calloused fingers cleaning around the shot but a soft blue you rarely see was looking up at you.
"I don't know, I felt something when we were back there fighting but I didn't really- agh- kept track of time." Your voice hitched when a new gauze touched your skin, making Bucky wince.
"Shit, it won't stop bleeding." Bucky cursed to himself. "Who did this to you?" The soft blue turned darker, looking at you and making your lungs suck in a breath.
"I- I don't know their names-" Your stutter was only caused by the intensity of his eyes. Did he really wanted you to point out the one person who went after you?
"If we had the footage, could you identify them?" You shrugged, still with a loss of words from his change of tone. You had never seen him like this, so set on finding one single person in the middle of thousands who were trying to kill you all. The depth of his eyes as he asked made your stomach turn and your heart beat faster, you could only nod as an answer; you were sure he was going to find that person.
"Parting ways was the only way to keep you safe. I'd rather have them come after me than after you." He explained, as if it made any difference now.
"Well, it didn't exactly went right did it?" Your sarcastic remark came with a pained chuckled that left you both in silence after. "What about the rest of the team?"
Bucky's jaw tensed before his eyes met yours again. "I don't care about the rest of them." He admitted quietly. "When I said I needed to keep you safe, I meant... I meant you."
Your eyes remained locked for what felt like forever, even after Sam rushed in with Nat behind him. You remained quiet, with Bucky's hand still pressed against you to try and stop the bleeding; he gave Sam instructions to fly the plane since he was still caring for you. "Just get us there as fast as you can, we need a doctor as soon as possible." He said, rising from his knees to sit next to you for the flight home.
It was a bumpy flight, one that felt even longer with the increasing pain you were feeling, but Bucky's hand never left your side, not even after landing, not even after you reached the med floor. Bucky stayed by your side all the while, strong hands and an ocean-like blue keeping you safe every time you felt pain, since that day until the rest of them.
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queers-gambit · 7 months
Text
Curiosity Killed The Cat
prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.
pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader
fandom masterlist: Marvel
word count: 5.1k+
note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.
warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.
browse the Clingy Baby collection masterlist here
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Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.
You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.
Rooted.
But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.
You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.
This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.
You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?
Curiosity, indeed.
Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...
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"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."
"And the jalapeños?"
"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."
"Cream cheese?"
"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."
Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."
"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"
"Lemme pick you up."
"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."
He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"
"Let's do a white tonight, please."
"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "
"Hang on," you pleaded.
"What's wrong?"
"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"
"We haven't been to Paris in months."
You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."
Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."
"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"
"So, is that a yes?"
"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"
"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"
"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."
"I'll bring the camera."
"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"
"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.
"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"
"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"
There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "
"It's 15," he growled.
"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."
"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "
"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."
"Don't hurt her - "
"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."
The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.
He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).
For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.
"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."
You sniffled, unable to respond.
He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"
You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."
The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."
"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."
"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."
You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.
At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.
"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.
"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"
You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.
Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.
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And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.
You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.
Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.
Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.
So now... To hear this... You were devastated.
You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.
You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.
"She's different, man."
"How so?" Sam wondered.
"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "
"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.
"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."
"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.
"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."
"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."
"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"
Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"
"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."
"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."
"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.
"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."
"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."
"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"
There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.
So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."
"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"
You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.
"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.
"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"
"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."
"Peach - "
"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.
"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"
"Sure."
Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"
You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.
Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.
Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?
You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"
"Out with Nat," you eased.
He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"
"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."
His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."
"I know."
"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.
And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.
When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."
The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.
You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.
Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.
Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.
Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.
After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.
"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.
"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.
"What?"
"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"
"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."
"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"
"About...?"
"Me."
"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."
Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.
"Huh?" Nat wondered.
"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.
"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."
Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"
"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"
"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."
"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.
"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."
"Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."
"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."
"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."
"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."
"They can take it."
"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"
"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.
"Bucky," she growled.
He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."
"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."
"Why lie, then?"
"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."
"No shit."
"Well, did you get into a fight?"
"No."
"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"
He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."
"You had to do something."
"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."
Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"
Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."
"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."
"I didn't mean - "
"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."
Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"
"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"
Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.
The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.
Clingy...
You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...
His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.
When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"
You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.
He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."
"I'm here."
"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.
"What's wrong?"
"You. You're what's wrong."
"What the fuck does that - "
"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."
You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.
"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "
"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."
"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."
You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "
"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."
You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."
"It's not."
"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."
He nodded, "What else can I do?"
"Nothing - "
"Peach."
You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"
"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.
"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"
"All right... Sure, okay..."
"And face masks."
He sighed, "Okay."
"And mani-pedis."
"Baby."
"You said you were making it up to me, right?"
He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."
"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."
"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."
"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."
"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."
You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.
Felt okay.
Appeared okay.
And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.
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yourmidnightlover · 20 days
Text
forever?
pairing: mob!bucky x reader
summary: after being forced into a marriage you didn’t want, you become very cautious of your new husband out of fear of what he’s capable of when one of his employees makes a move at a dinner meeting.
warnings: anxious reader, threat of domestic violence (reader is just worried abt it), groping, please let me know if i missed something or need to add anything!
a/n: reader is very timid in this. i know a lot of people like a reader who doesn’t take shit and stands up for herself, but i often find myself in situations where i just shut down and don’t know how to respond… so this is kinda inspired by that feeling
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two months out of forever.
two months of what seemed like wedded bliss from the outside.
in reality, that “bliss” included sleeping in separate rooms, never even seeing each other unless necessary to make appearances for either of your parents. 
the ones who arranged for this to happen in the first place. 
you were just glad you were able to have your time for yourself. you thought you would use the time to continue writing for your book, but you’ve hit a serious case of writers block. so lovely. 
on the bright side, he wasn’t as controlling as your few friends had made it seem he would be. 
they had painted this picture of a monster in your head. a man who would loom over your presence during every waking second. a man who was controlling and wouldn’t let you have a personal life or secrets.
so far, he’s been the opposite. 
for some reason, that still leaves you unsteady. 
because they also painted him in a very violent, angry, red light. 
but maybe he had a mistress. if that were the case, he truly didn’t respect you or your family. it didn’t seem like bucky to do that, though. he wouldn’t ruin a business deal that benefitted him so much. 
the reason you married him was because your father’s finance business was going under, drowned in debts while the only options were to sell to the barnes’ or the rumlow’s. the barnes’ seemed the lesser of two evils.
the only way to smoothly transition your father’s business to be under the barnes’ control without raising any question of your father’s capability was to marry. if any questions were asked about why your father sold his company, the not so good side of the finance industry would trample after your entire family. the barnes’ would get a new company and their many clients, while your family wouldn’t become entirely blacklisted by the entire country, would be putting your family under the barnes’ protection, and there would be less questions asked as to why the company had been merged.
you had a few months of “leaking” images of you and bucky together into the tabloids to prepare the public for the news of such a big marriage. some were photos of you and bucky holding hands while walking. a couple of you at a restaurant smiling. a few staged kissing photos… those may or may not have been your favorite.
those times spent with him, in all honesty, weren’t bad at all. going for walks together at sunset, dinner dates, feeling his lips against yours…
you had gotten to know more about his childhood that the tabloids didn’t feel was important to cover. his favorite subject in school and how he actually lost his arm so many years ago. you learned each others’ fears and worries in life. your favorite thing to learn about him, however, was what he truly wanted in life. 
peace.
a couple weeks after the wedding, a few photos of the reception were once again “leaked” in order to sell the “too in love to wait” bit that everyone had started assuming upon seeing the first few photos of you and bucky together. 
but all of your history with him flew to the back of your mind as bucky knocked on your office door. 
“come in,” you replied hesitantly, not sure what he wanted from you for the first time since your wedding. he stepped through the threshold and stood at the doorframe. 
“there’s a work meeting tomorrow,” his hand remained on the doorknob, so stiff you’d think he might rip it off the precious white wood in seconds. “the men are meeting at the house. i wanted to let you know. the men in this business, they expect marriages to be of the… traditional values.”
you nodded with understanding, turning to face him with a forced grin. “so i should play the part of the doting housewife, huh?” no smile in return, so you bit back your humor in turn for matching his serious tone. “what food should i prepare, then? and uh, how many guests will we be expecting?”
“whatever’s easiest for you,” he shrugged lightly. “there will be 9 of us there.” with one final look in your direction, he left the office and didn’t return to say goodnight. 
-
the next morning you got to work setting the house up for the 6pm meeting your loving husband was hosting. 
you had decided to set up a buffet-style table outside of the main dining room where the meeting would take place. for the menu, you settled on simple grilled chicken with quite a few side options. roast potatoes, asparagus, sauteed carrots, green beans, and rolls. 
you were putting the rolls in the oven when bucky got home, seemingly entranced by the smell of all the food, heading straight to the kitchen.
“it smells amazing in here,” bucky called from the archway of the kitchen. you jumped slightly from the surprise, but swallowed down the shock and another weak smile. 
“thanks,” you nodded to the edge of the island where a large chalkboard sat, your handwriting neatly displayed on the board that listed all the food to be had. “the menu. i figured a variety would be nice, and who doesn’t like chicken, right?”
“vegetarians,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling a joke. but you knew better than that. “the men are coming in a little less than an hour. do you maybe want to change before they get here?”
you looked down at what you were wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a loose t-shirt clearly not worthy of someone who had married a barnes man. “right, of course. i’m sorry,” you finished setting the timer on the oven and ran upstairs to get yourself put together before bucky saw the tears trying to seep past your waterline. 
you settled on a black cocktail dress you had worn to one of your dad’s company events before the downfall… quickly swiping some makeup on to cover the exhaustion in your eyes and pulling your hair up to a more respectable updo rather than your typical messy bun. 
luckily you had become an expert at quickly getting ready from your time in university, as you were back in time to pull the rolls from the oven, but not before pulling on your apron. you’d be dammed if you got this stunning dress dirty right before this prestigious meeting. 
t-5 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin and you could already hear lots of rustling from the formal dining room. you knocked on the closed doors before bucky opened the door for you. 
the men went silent as their gaze rested on you in the doorway. 
“the foods ready. buffet style?” your eyes didn’t leave bucky’s pretty blues, too scared to do anything wrong in front of his men. 
“that’s perfect, my love,” his hands gravitated to your waist before pulling your body taut against his, one hand moving a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper. “you look ravishing…”
as he pulled back, you were sure your blush was evident across your cheeks. you tried to hide it behind a smile, shrugging with a shy ‘thanks’ leaving your lips. 
“what do you say to my stunning wife, boys?” his hand squeezed your waist once more before turning to the other men, ‘thank you’s being echoed throughout the room as they stood and made their way to the kitchen to make their plates. 
in a matter of minutes, all the food was gone. you figured it was best they liked the food, even if you didn’t get to try any of it yourself like you had planned. 
you got started on cleaning everything up with earbuds in your ears, starting with the dishes already in the sink from when you were cooking. then, you were sure to place the dishes that the food was in inside the sink for you to clean before starting on wiping the counters, then sweeping, then mopping, and then back to the dishes. 
you didn’t realize that bucky had called for a break in the meeting, however. you were in for quite the rude awakening when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, but not the ones you were semi-familiar with. 
you turned around with a gasp, shock evident on your face as you tried to piece together whoever this man was. blond hair, blue eyes… definitely not steve though. you knew steve well and had seen him often. 
you pulled your earbuds from your ears in attempt to better understand what was going on. his hands were still gripping your sides, but you couldn’t necessarily escape his touch. you were backed against the sink. even if you could fight him, you’d likely lose to his strong grip. 
“is the meeting-is it over already?” your voice was so much more cowardly than you’d ever expected yourself to be. 
“no, no,” he shook his head. “just a little break, some of the guys were getting antsy.” you leaned back further, trying to create some semblance of space between you. “i figured i’d say a special thank you, on behalf of all of us guys in there.” he let one hand cup the side of your face and neck, his other hand trailing down from your waist, firmly grasping your ass with a sqeeze before you jumped at the invasion.
“i don’t-i’ve got it…”
“john,” he smiled grossly, as if he could convince you to go to bed with him.
“no need for a thanks,” you tried to remind him. “i did this for bucky. for my husband.” your eyebrows rose, trying to emphasize that his boss was also your husband. 
“i’m sure he won’t mind you getting a little bit of extra special attention, don’t you?”
then, a growling voice cut through the fear running through your veins. 
“i think he might mind.”
you turned to face bucky with wide eyes before facing john, wishing the tears welling in your eyes would just go away. 
his hands slowly retracted, stepping back with a chuckle.
“sorry, sir,” he smiled before turning to face your husband. “she was just telling me how she wanted some extra attention, weren’t you, toots?” he tilted his head expectantly.
your mouth opened, nothing leaving in spite of your brain screaming at you. what would bucky do? would he take his side? would he believe you? would he hurt you? 
you’ve embarrassed him now… humiliated him in his own home. surely he’ll take action against you for this. 
your mind replayed stories your old friends had told you about him. how he would lash out at men that betrayed him. how he never took shit from anyone who showed him any disrespect. how he was the kind of man to shoot first and ask quesitons later.
and now, in a way, you’ve both betrayed and disrespected him. or at least, that’s what he’ll think. 
you didn’t even realize tears were flowing down your face until your sobs were interrupted. 
“enough!” you finally looked at bucky before his eyes softened for a second before walking closer to you. “go to the room.” he ordered sternly. 
“but the dish-”
“i’ll take care of it,” he interrupted gravely, “go. to. the. room.” 
“yes, sir,” you nodded and swiftly left the room entirely, collapsing against the door once you had shut it, sobs wracking your body. you held your knees against your chest before trying to regulate your breathing.
he won’t hurt you.
he has to protect his image.
you’ve embarrassed him.
you’re his wife.
you’re his business deal.
you’ve humiliated him.
he’ll hurt you.
you didn’t know how long it had been since the incident. 
your sobs had subsided. you had, at some point, moved to your bed. you were still rocking your body back and forth, trying to self sooth. 
and then there was a knock at the door. 
your body instinctively jumped at the sudden noise, although it wasn’t harsh in any manner, at least not one that you were expecting. 
he twisted the knob, slowly opening the door with slow movements. 
“i-i’m so sorry,” you began apologizing as soon as he stepped through the threshold into your room. “i swear-i swear i didn’t tell him that. i didn’t even realize he was there, i promise. i wouldn’t lie to you. i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry. please believe me.” your body was still rocking and you didn’t even notice he was as close to you as he was until you saw his hand moving by your head.
automatically, you assumed the absolute worst, your head ducking into your body like a fucking turtle, the meekest squeal leaving your lips mixed with a sob. your arms went over your head protectively, as if a bomb were about to go off.
“sweetheart,” his voice sounded so broken, so torn, so unexpectedly soft. 
you finally looked at him for the first time since he came in your room. his flesh hand was holding his metal one as if it were something that could kill. in ways, it was. 
“you-there’s no need to…” after looking at him for a second longer, you noticed that his eyes had tears that almost mirrored your own. “i would never, ever lay a hand on you. i’m so sorry for scaring you. i can’t…” he sighed. “i can’t believe i made you believe i’d ever hurt you.”
“i’m sorry,” you pleaded with him once again. 
“you have nothing to apologize for,” he hesitated to reach for your hands before settling on simply grabbing a spare pillow. “i came up here to apologize. for my tone earlier… i know john. he never knows his boundaries. i should’ve… you never should’ve been put in that situation. that’s my fault. that’s on me. and i will spend the rest of forever to make it up to you.” 
“you don’t have to-”
“no, my love,” he shook his head. “can i-can i hold your hands? please?” you, without hesitation, grabbed his hands yourself. “i need to make it up to you. you’re mine. you’re my wife. it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. and to have someone ruin that? to touch what’s mine in my own home? i’m so sorry.” he brought your hands to his lips, pressing at least ten kisses to each hand. he was so gentle and careful it was a good thing you knew better than to think it actually meant anything.
you were surprised, to say the least, at how tender he was being with you. 
how could you have ever thought he would hurt you? that he would raise his hand and swing? that he would cause you harm? he was here declaring that he would make up this incident for the rest of eternity when it wasn’t even his doing… 
“will you stay with me tonight?” his eyes lit up at the request.
“are you sure you want that?” he became a touch more reserved. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea since you were worried i would…” his voice trailed off.
“i’m sure,” you nodded before scooting over in the bed. 
sure, your marriage was arranged and didn’t stem from true love. you may not have talked outside of when absolutely necessary. you might have even been terrified of him at one point. 
but now, the thought of forever with bucky barnes didn’t seem half bad. 
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urdepressedslut · 8 months
Note
Hello lovely,
I saw your post that your requests are open, so I will give it a try =)
Imagine Bucky and reader are best friends but they have a huge argument and now they don't talk to each other for days. She's feeling really bad, missing him. He is her most important person and now without interacting with him for days, she's feeling lost and lonely and heartbroken. Maybe she has not a super power and is only a normal human, helping the Avengers with IT or something. Due to the argument with her best friend and not talking to Bucky (Bucky ignores her completely) she begins to feel it not only mental but also physically. She can't eat probably and at the end falls deathly sick.... With a fluffy happy ending and a worried and protective Bucky
Please. That would be nice.
Take care honey
oh my goodness— my heart 😭❤️ the angst is gonna hurt, but i’m such a sucker for it. i had so much fun writing this one, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it🥰
Love Hurts
♡ Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
♡ Summary: You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.
♡ Warnings: language, mentions of bucky’s trauma, heavy angst, malnourishment, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, minor injuries, hospitalization, suicidal ideation, self hate, literally hurt just writing this
main masterlist
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+
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Your nails bit into your palm, denting the flesh— threatening to pierce the delicate skin. It was all to hold yourself back, distract you from the words that wanted to burst out.
It was becoming a sickening routine, Bucky was reckless and had yet another near death experience on his recent mission. The anxiety and the nerves stopping your body from functioning— the dreaded wait for his jet to arrive back at the compound. You shouldn’t have to be used of receiving the call that he had yet again made a reckless move— but you were starting to discover a pattern.
It did nothing to ease the panic that swirled in your chest every time he left for missions. You’d sob, throwing up everything you had eaten that day— unable to stomach anything with the idea that Bucky was on a mission. You never found your anxiety to be so severe— but when Bucky was even mentioned about going on a mission… it spiked.
That’s where you found yourself in his room, watching him pace the space— avoiding your frustrated stare. You weren’t angry at him per say— you were angry that he didn’t value his life.
“Seriously (Y/n)— you get so worked up over nothing. I’m here and alive— isn’t that enough?” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.
You pressed your nails tighter to your palm, yet the pain couldn’t stop your thundering thoughts.
“You’re here and alive now, until you do some stupid shit like this again and are dead!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice low but you didn’t know how much longer you could control yourself.
He glared at you, squinting his eyes in anger and then rolling his eyes.
“Oh for fucks sake— can you stop fucking babying me? I can handle myself!” He raised his voice, his metal arm whirring.
“I’m not babying you— I’m just scared you’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you care about your life at all?” You asked him aggressively, your voice raising just a tad.
He took a long pause, staring at you with his face void of emotion— only annoyance.
“Not really.” He admitted.
You were taken back, although you had these conversations with him a time or twenty. It was an ongoing process to get him to slowly love himself— his past as The Winter Soldier torturing his soul. He was so convinced he wasn’t deserving of anything, not even a roof over his head. It was a struggle to help him, but you weren’t going to give up on him.
“You realize if anything ever happened to you I—” Your voice broke, needing a breath, “Buck I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”
You thought you saw his eyes flash with guilt, but before you could linger on the look for too long— his face was hardening again.
“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” He mumbled out, making your eyes widen.
You were extremely taken back from those words, your chest aching painfully— him not knowing what effect those words had on you.
“Are you fucking serious?” You asked him, your face morphing into a hurt expression, mixed with anger. “Can you just do your job without trying to kill yourself?”
His face grew red with rage and he was stomping up towards you— his face inches from yours.
“I am doing my job— very well in fact. Unlike you who just fucking sits here doing nothing!” He defended himself, his breath hitting your face in warm pants.
“Doing nothing? Buck— why are you like this?” You puffed your chest, not backing down from his towering form.
But your words seemed to have hit a nerve, as he shrunk back slightly, narrowing his gaze at you.
“Like what?”
You furrowed your brows, slowing your racing heart from the shouting— you weren’t sure you had said anything bad. Did you?
“What?” You squeaked out, nervous now.
“You said, why am I like this… like what?” He pushed, stepping closer to you now, his face still red with anger but you could see the hurt in his eyes.
You swallowed and wondered how to convince him you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said. But you were almost positive it would be an impossible task to get Bucky to listen.
“Buck, I didn’t mean anythin—”
“What— you think I’m not capable of doing my job? You think I’m still the monster hydra made me?” He spat, his chest rising and falling quicker.
“No, no Buck listen—”
That was definitely not what you meant, you could tell he was spiraling and you were still confused as to why. You would never make him think that.
“After 70 fucking years I finally have a job that I like— that I enjoy doing— I fucking help people! I’m finally doing some good and now you’re telling me I’m not capable of doing it?” He boomed, his chest puffing into yours and your stumbled back slightly. “You think I’m only capable of being a monster? Huh? Is that what you fucking think?”
You were growing scared now, the look in his eyes wild with something and you didn’t like how close he was to you— you knew he’d never hurt you but your fear overwhelmed your senses.
“Friday— call Steve and Sam in here now!” You shouted into the room, and Bucky’s eyes squinted painfully— his metal arm whirring again.
Bucky only saw one thing— you didn’t reassure him that he was thinking irrationally. You didn’t correct him that he wasn’t the monster. Instead you called for help, that you were clearly scared— because you thought he was a monster.
He was at a loss for words and just stared at you, almost through you— as his breathing was only getting heavier at the sight of your fearful eyes.
Not even minutes later, Steve and Sam were busting through the door, taking in the scene and separated you and Bucky.
“Hey— what’s going on?” Steve asked in between the two of you. “Buck, what’s wrong man?”
You couldn’t seem to find the words and just stood speechless as well— the fight startling you. This was one of the worst ones, and it was also one that still left you confused. You cursed yourself for not being careful enough with your words— but it was almost impossible to get through to him when he was on the brink of having an episode.
Sam walked closer to you, his facing morphing into concern as he took in your shocked expression.
“(Y/n)? You okay? Did he hurt you?” Sam whispered, keeping his words only between you two.
You slowly shook your head but still didn’t respond verbally.
“Okay, okay that’s good. You wanna go get a drink from downstairs? Why don’t we take a breather okay?” Sam suggested softly, big brother mode kicking in at the sight of your frazzled state.
Without another word, you left the room with Sam— missing the devastated look from Bucky.
Steve waited until the door shut, then his attention was back on Bucky.
“Buck, you gotta talk to me man— what happened?” He asked softly, watching his friend slowly relax, but it wasn’t from being in a relaxing mood— his body and mind were just exhausted from the argument.
“I fucked everything up. That’s what happened.” He mumbled, turning away from Steve to sit on the edge of his bed.
Steve followed behind but stood in front of him, shaking his head— ready to argue.
“You didn’t mess anything up, arguments happen. You guys will work it out. I know how much you mean to each other.” Steve pointed out, watching Bucky’s face unchanging.
“You didn’t see the way she looked at me— she’s scared of me I—” He shuttered, his breath shaky as he remembered your look, “I fucking scared her.”
Steve’s chest ached, the state of his friend breaking his heart. He knew Bucky meant no harm, and he almost for a fact knew that you knew that too. But Bucky for sure didn’t believe that himself.
“I didn’t see what you saw, but I can guarantee you that she’s not afraid of you. This is (Y/n) we are talking about. You are her world Buck.” Steve tried to convince him.
Bucky shook his head, running his flesh hand through his hair.
“I think I just need to stay away from her for awhile.” Bucky came up with instead.
Steve immediately started shaking his head, knowing that was the last thing he needed.
“Bucky I—”
“Please Steve… I just need some space.” Bucky pleaded, his body sagging in exhaustion.
Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue with him anymore about this. Maybe he did need some time to himself, to cool down and gather his thoughts. Also Steve wasn’t going to force him to anything ever. After the years his pal went through— he would never make him do anything. He had enough things decided for him, and Steve wasn’t about to stoop to hydra’s level.
Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Sam was getting you a glass of water— standing across from your seated form at the island. He slid the cup across, sending a worried glance at you.
“(Y/n)?” Sam snapped his fingers getting your attention.
You were shaken from your state of staring, but even snapped out of the trance— the anxieties still swirled within you.
“Yeah sorry… I’m here.” You whispered, grabbing the glass and taking a tiny sip.
Sam gave you a quizzical expression, watching you start to slip back into a mindless stare— so he spoke up.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, genuinely curious what had went down.
He knew— hell everyone knew you and Bucky were extremely close. Best of friends, always there for one another— dancing on the line of strictly friends to lovers. Truthfully, Sam found it completely obnoxious and just wanted you two together already.
“I don’t really know… I think I said the wrong thing— I didn’t mean to make him upset.” You confessed, keeping your eyes on the countertop, not risking a glance to Sam.
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up— mistakes happen. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Sam told you.
You shook your head, gripping the cup tighter.
“God I hope so… I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You whispered pathetically, tears welling in your eyes.
Sam reached out to rub your arm comfortingly, trying to relax you so you didn’t start crying. He hated to see you cry— made his heart hurt.
“It’s been a long day for everyone, why don’t you go head upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure things will have blown over by tomorrow.” He suggested and you finally met his gaze, smiling weakly and nodding.
Without saying goodbye, you stood up and headed to your room. Taking Sam’s words and playing them on repeat in your head.
Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow would be better.
God had you hoped that was the case— it only was the beginning on the torment.
You had slept in longer than usual, but overall felt refreshed. The first thing that came to mind when fully waking up was Bucky. Immediately you headed downstairs to find him— needing to talk with him— apologize.
Making it down to the kitchen, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in at the sight of him sitting at the island— sipping at his coffee. You furrowed your brows, thinking he'd be done with his coffee by now, since you had slept in. Your chest ached with guilt with the possibility that he didn't sleep well.
You took a deep breath before making yourself known, although you were sure be could sense you in the room— considering he was a super soldier.
"Morning Buck." You announced, walking around the island so you could face him.
He kept his gaze down at his coffee, finding the cup more interesting than you.
Okay, that’s fair. You thought, you most probably deserved that reaction.
“You sleep okay?” You asked again, picking at the skin on your nails nervously.
Again— he didn’t even lift his head. In fact, he wasn’t even acknowledging you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it.
“Bucky?” You tried, and this time he lifted his head.
Your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he hadn’t gotten good sleep. You hated yourself for causing him the stress, especially knowing he was just starting to actually get hours of sleep. It was huge progress compared to his nights either screaming awake or just staring at the walls. But now you had to go and ruin all that progress. You felt sick to your stomach— disgusted with yourself.
“I’m really sorry about last night… I didn’t like how ugly it got and I’m sorry if I said something to upset you— you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” You told him, picking more aggressively at your nails, causing to nail beds to bleed.
You swallowed nervously when he didn’t answer right away, instead staring at you with… what was that? Disgust? You didn’t know, but you hated the look altogether.
“Bucky, please say something.” You pleaded.
Bucky lowered his gaze to his coffee again, taking a minute before he stood up and looked your way.
“I just need some space.” He told you quietly.
You were relived to have him finally talk to you, but to hear him suggest space between you two— you could almost feel the knife digging into your chest. You tried to keep a neutral expression but otherwise felt your bottom lip quiver.
Without giving you time to respond, Bucky was walking out of the room— leaving you standing there speechless, lungs begging for air. You didn’t want your mind to go immediately to that thought, but you couldn’t ignore it either— he hated you.
“Hey babe, I need you to help me out in the lab tod—” Tony came busting into the room, but immediately shut up once he saw your broken expression. “Honey, what’s wrong? You alright?”
You nodded your head, lying to him and yourself and started waving him off with the fakest smile.
“Yeah— yeah I’m good. Just need to uh— need to get some things done.” You told him, your eyes darting all around the room, the familiar feeling of panic seeping into your being.
Tony gave you a ‘really?’ look and stepped closer to you.
“(Y/n) I’m not blind— I can see you’re upset. Talk to m—”
“Seriously Tony— I’m fine! Just leave it alone!” You told him a little too aggressively.
His face was taken back and you felt guilty immediately, cursing yourself for hurting everyone.
Why are you such a fucking issue? Your mind screamed at you.
You didn’t waste another second and sped walked out of the room, needing to calm yourself down before you ran into any one else. You were spiraling and you needed to just relax— take a deep breath. Maybe you just needed one more day and things would be back to normal.
Yeah… just one more day.
You had hoped that was the case as well… but as always— things only got worse.
Bucky refused to talk to you or even look at you. He’d given you the cold shoulder for almost two weeks now. He would get up and leave the second you entered the room. He couldn’t stand you it seemed.
You couldn’t keep hiding your hurt. At first, you had done a good job at hiding how you were really feeling. Saving the sobbing and attacks for when you were alone in your room. As the days lingered on, you found yourself weak and drained— you didn’t have enough energy to put up a charade anymore.
The whole team were sending you worried looks, and attempted to talk with you. But the second they’d try— you’d bolt. The subject was too sensitive, too raw. You didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bucky— and he hated you.
You had missed so many meals, forgetting to eat with your mental struggles throughout the days. You had been getting no more than two hours of sleep. You were so stressed, so stuck in your own mind that you couldn’t function. Even when you had managed to remember to eat, your stomach would knot up to the point that you were throwing everything up. You were gaunt, basically a real life zombie. You needed help— but you needed Bucky more.
You were laying in bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to focus with no food or sleep in your system— so you had only managed to lay here. Even that was exhausting, no matter how much you laid around— your mind wouldn’t stop the assault. Your anxiety had never been this bad, you were a prisoner to it.
Knocking at your door had you jumping, your heart racing— and for a moment you forgot where you were.
You’re in the compound… yeah that’s right.
You slowed your breathing and swung your legs sluggishly over the edge of the bed to answer it. You weren’t prepared for the sudden dizzy spell, your vision spotting with black and white specks. You tried to blink it off, but suddenly you were toppling to the ground.
You fell to the floor with a loud thump, luckily landing on your front, your hands somehow catching most of your fall— you could already feel the throbbing in your palms.
You didn’t hear the persistent knocking, or the door open. You didn’t even hear the voice speaking from the doorway. It was when a hand landed on your shoulder that you were gasping, forgetting your surroundings once again.
Your eyes met Steve’s and you swore your heart was about to beat out of your chest.
“(Y/n) are you alright?” He asked you, hovering his hands over you— not sure what you had hurt.
You furrowed your brows, looking him over.
“Steve what are… what are you doing here?” You asked genuinely confused.
You watched Steve’s eyes widen and he swallowed nervously— his expression growing more concerned.
“(Y/n) it’s okay… I’ve got you.” Steve hushed, and he was pulling you into his chest, hugging you protectively.
You were still confused but then you tasted one of your stray tears, and you immediately came to your senses. You were crying in Steve’s arms… but why? You were having gaps of time missing from you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened— you just didn’t seem to care.
“Steve… my head hurts.” You slurred into his chest, sagging against him.
You were grateful that he was here, you desperately needed someone around. You were just hoping that someone would’ve been Bucky.
“Okay, let’s get you to Helen. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve asked you, and you could only give a weak nod.
He knew there was no way you were walking there, so he hoisted you up into his arms, and cradled your head as he started to the med bay.
You just stared blankly at his chest, not really caring if Steve were to throw you off the roof of the building. You just didn’t care.
Steve had gotten you down to her, and she checked you out. Alerting Steve that you were extremely malnourished, dehydrated— an insomniac. She kept listing off all the things Steve was afraid to hear. The whole time he was sure you didn’t hear a thing, although you were in the room— you were just checked out.
Helen eventually left, and Steve took his opportunity to speak with you. He pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and grabbed your hand.
“(Y/n), what’s going on? You can talk to me— you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please… just talk to me.” Steve whispered, pleading with you that you would stop torturing yourself.
“He hates me.” You mumbled.
Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned, knowing what you meant. He knew he let this go on for too long.
“(Y/n) he doesn’t hate you. He just needed time to himself, so he co—”
“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, I don’t even know what I said to hurt him but I—” You rushed out, the heart monitor beeping frantically, “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to!”
You wheezed out, clutching your chest as you couldn’t catch your breath. Your cheeks glistened with a steady stream of tears, your wheezing only growing by the second.
“Okay, okay (Y/n)— I need you to slow your breathing. You’re okay, he doesn’t hate you. Just take deep breaths okay— even if you can’t just try. I’m here.” He tried to coach you, but this wasn’t his thing.
Now he was starting to get mad at his friend, Bucky shouldn’t of let this go on for this long.
You followed his chest rising and falling, staring at him as he tried to calm you down. Your breaths were heavy and painful sounding. Steve was about to say something but stopped himself when he saw your eyes look behind him.
He turned and saw Bucky standing in the doorway— his face paled. Truthfully, he looked like he was going to be sick.
“(Y/n)?” He whispered, his heart breaking at your state.
He had ran into Helen in the kitchen and was informed of your condition— he didn’t believe it and had to see for himself. He was shocked to find you like this.
Your tears only edged on from his appearance and you shook your head in shame.
“I’m sorry Bucky! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” You sobbed and Bucky ran to the bed, kneeling down and taking your hands into his.
“Doll it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here— I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m sorry.” He rushed out, shushing your cries, watching you slow your breathing at his words. “There we go, just keep breathing with me. I’m here, you’re okay.”
He kept repeating himself, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.
Steve knew you were in good hands and slowly snuck out of the room— knowing you two needed to talk.
Bucky tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek to your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your face leaned into his touch, it felt like it had been forever since the last one.
Your breathing had slowed down, and now you just stared up at him— eyes glossy with more tears. You felt so many emotions. You felt relived, but also angry and hurt. Above all— you needed to know what you did to upset him. The guilt still ate away at your heart, and even just the memory of the argument had your chest aching.
“What did I do?” You whispered, making his eyes shoot up to yours, concern painting his face.
“You didn’t do anything.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows.
You were still anxious— he hadn’t answered your question. Even more so— if you didn’t do anything then why did he ignore you?
“Then why?”
“Why what (Y/n)?” He dared to ask, and you scoffed— ripping your hands out of his.
The anger was approaching.
“Why did you shut me out?” You wondered, and he only let his eyes cast down to the bed— making you angrier. “You ignored me for two weeks! Two fucking weeks you just acted as if I didn’t exist! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”
You were breathing heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from panic— it was the full force of all your anger bursting out.
He lifted his eyes to you, and you saw how broken he looked. How your state had affected him.
“I could never do that to you Buck— I would never do that to you! You’re my everything! I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you!” You raised your voice, while he stayed silent. “If I didn’t do anything then why would you— why—”
You broke out into a sob, covering your face with your hands. You felt good getting all the built up anger out— but now you felt extremely guilty. The pitiful face of Bucky staring at you, causing your heart to hurt all over again. It didn’t matter what happened, you always ended up hurting others.
“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I— god I fucked up. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you, please know that. You’re my other half, and no one has ever been there for me like you have.” He spoke through a tight throat, swelling with emotion.
You uncovered your face and just stared at him a little longer, still incredibly hurt from his actions— but you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. You so badly wanted to forgive and forget— and just wrap him in your arms like you both needed.
“It’s hard to explain what’s wrong with me to someone when I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me— I just know I’m fucked up. I’m broken beyond repair.” His voice broke, his own eyes welling with tears.
You didn’t have it in you to keep up an angry facade, and so you reached out and took his hand in yours. His face almost immediately lit up, his breathing slowing at your touch.
“Try me.” You whispered, watching Bucky take a deep breath before he spoke again.
“The night of our fight…” He started, and you swallowed in having to remember that night. “I had never seen you look at me like that.”
You stayed silent, afraid to open your mouth and have a sob escape. You could feel it bubbling up— the memory playing back through your mind.
“You looked at me like you were scared. You looked at me like I was a monster.” He confessed and it all made sense to you now.
It wasn’t about what you said, it was your reaction that disturbed him to no ends. Even if you couldn’t control your reaction in the moment— you still felt guilty for causing him pain of remembering the hydra days.
“Oh Buck…” You whimpered, trying to pull him close— but he pulled away before he could reach your embrace.
“No— you don’t get to be nice to me after what I did. I promised I would never hurt you and I did— you’re in here because of me! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!” He raised his voice, and you weren’t scared of him— just concerned.
“I wasn’t scared of you Bucky, you just caught me off guard. Things were heated— I’m not afraid of you and I most definitely don’t think you’re a monster.” You tried to convince him.
“I really hope you’re not lying because if you were afraid of me… god I don’t know what I’d do. If you never wanted to see me again— that’s fine. Whatever you want, but I can’t live knowing you’re afraid of me.” He whimpered out.
“I wouldn’t lie to you.”
He nodded his head, knowing damn well you’d never lie. That was one thing he loved about you— you were so honest. Keeping it real with him, even if he didn’t wanna hear it. He could count on you for the truth.
“I still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He argued.
“Well too bad, I’m forgiving you anyway.” You finally told him and he felt his chest expand.
Like he could finally breath.
“Why?” He wondered.
You knew it was the line you two had been dancing on forever— but you knew if there was ever a time to say it. It was now.
“Because I love you.” You admitted quietly.
His eyes widened just slightly, and his breath stuttered. He had always had a feeling what you two had was more than friends, he just never spoke up about it. Of course he loves you too— god he loves you so much. That’s why the thought of you being scared of him was enough to pull him away. He couldn’t bear being around you if you were frightened by him. He couldn’t live with himself. More importantly he now discovered, he really couldn’t live without you.
“I love you so much.” He confessed back as your tears leaked down your cheeks.
You pulled his arm, and he let you pull him to the bed— close enough where you could cup both his cheeks.
“Don’t ever do that to me again, please. I need you Bucky— life is not livable without you.” You cried, kissing his forehead to which he leaned into your lips.
“Never again— I promise.”
This time, he wouldn’t break it.
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delaber · 1 year
Text
Warrior/Worrier (Bucky Barnes x Reader)
Summary: After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night.
Words: 5.3K
Fluff, fluff and fluff and a lil bit of angst. Classic hurt/comfort and friends to lovers
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Through the darkness, there's a knock on your bedroom door, so soft, so cautious, that if you hadn't already been half-awake, you're not sure you would've caught it.
Legs quickly swung over the side of your mattress, you stop and focus at a fixpoint in your moonlit room.
According to the big mission schedule hung in Steve's office, you should be the only one at the compound, so you cannot for the life in you figure out who would rap on your door at 3.30 in the morning, but it wasn't just something you'd imagined because there it is again. A knock, not much louder than before, but definitely there.
For a brief second, your foggy brain ponders that it's likely someone who's been sent to kill you in the dead of night, but before you've even reached for your bedside Beretta, rationality reminds you that they probably wouldn't have had the curtesy to knock first - and then it dawns on you.
"Nat," you sigh with a roll of your eyes and let your bare feet hit the floor while you rub the sleep from off your face. It's not the first time she's forgotten the lock combination to her room after post-mission drinks.
Slowly, you walk across the cold floorboards and over to the wooden door where you can hear ragged breathing from the other side of the wall. Hand lazily pulling the door open, you start talking before you've seen who's on the other side.
"It's only four digits and you're panic breathing?" you chuckle but is immediately taken aback when you're not met by Natasha but instead by your best friend. "...Buck?"
He's back from his mission a day earlier than you'd expected and you're just about to crack a witty comment on how you'd told him that Sam couldn't stand to be alone with him for more than thirty-six hours, but then you notice the state he's in.
His entire body is slumped over as he clutches his right arm tight to his chest, eyes droopy and blank, cheekbones dotted by freckles of soot and framed by thick strands of auburn hair caked in dried blood. "Doll," he breathes painfully and takes a step closer, looking only mildly relieved to see you.
"Buck!" you hiss in fear and grab both his cheeks, but his dirty face just drops further, and he can't even look at you though you're standing mere inches apart.
"I know it's late," he mumbles with his gaze downcast, "but can I come in?"
It's as if you don't hear him clearly enough to respond. His voice is under water and at the same time layers above you while you're far too concerned with every look of horror splashed across his handsome face, your hands frantically clutching his bloodied cheeks as you desperately search his eyes though he still won't look at you. "What happened? Where's all this blood coming from?"
"It's - it's not mine..." he croaks with a small shake of his head.
Fear ripples through your entire body one more time and you can barely speak as you imagine the worst possible scenario that might have caused Bucky to behave like this. "Is it... Sam?" you whimper with tears already burning in your eyes, fighting the urge to throw up.
"He's fine," Bucky quickly interrupts with a small nod, "I dropped him off at his girl's place twenty minutes ago," he croaks and finally looks up at you, his eyes more broken than you've ever seen them before. It makes your heart crack in two. "Sweetheart, can I please come in?"
"Oh god," you pant anxiously and reluctantly let your fingers slide off his cheeks as you step to the side and finally let him inside your bedroom. "Yes, yes of course you can come in."
Immediately, he's on your bed, his face buried in his vibranium hand as the pads of his fingers start rubbing circles over his dusty forehead.
"What happened?" you barely manage to croak as you sit down beside him and carefully place a hand on his rigid thigh. "Last time I heard from you, everything was going according to plan."
"I don't want to talk about it," he gulps and starts rubbing his face even more agitatedly, looking over at you with an apologetic look on his face. "- not right now... I just had to see you. I'm sorry I woke you up."
You grab his vibranium hand and bring it down to his lap to get him to stop his frantic movements and he immediately squeezes you tight, letting out another heart-breaking sob.
"It's okay, Buck. I'm glad you're here."
Over the last year, you've seen Bucky on his darkest days a handful of times, and he usually has the same look on his face, but this time, it's different. It's deeper. Despondent and morose, the anger that's usually posessing him om the bleaker days replaced by a different kind of sadness.
Something really bad must've happened...
"Do you wanna sleep in here tonight?" you ask, unsure how to tackle this the best way possible if you don't want him to shield himself off in his room the way he usually does when he's not feeling his best. He shouldn't be alone under any circumstances.
You're half expecting him to protest, but to your surprise he starts nodding, relieved. "Thank you," he whispers and squeezes your hand tight again.
You make an attempt at a comforting touch as you brush over the soot on his cheeks, making a strand of dirty hair dipped in dried blood fall from his forehead. "You want a shower? I can draw you a bath."
He nods again.
"Come on, love," you say quietly and watch as he gulps hard at the sound of the tender pet-name that you've been wanting to call him for months now but haven't had the guts to say out loud until it accidentally slips past your lips. Surprisingly, you're not even embarrassed by yourself. You suppose there are more important things to worry about than an accidental profession of love in a moment of gentle affection.
Bucky seems taken aback too, frozen, and full of wonder, but he shakes it off and lets you pull him to your small bathroom, accepting your fluffiest towel without a word as he continues staring at you.
"I'll be just outside, okay?" you say reassuringly as you turn on the water in your bathtub, making sure it's the right temperature before putting in the drain stopper.
He's still looking at you with huge eyes, flesh arm clutched to his chest while the fluffy white towel gently supports his elbow. You silently wonder if he's hurt but before you can ask him, he speaks.
"Can you... stay?" He asks quietly, biting his inner cheek, unsure if his request is too much.
Still, it's your turn to be taken aback. You and Bucky are close but not like that. 
"Stay?" you instinctively furrow your eyebrows, "while you shower?
He immediately clenches his jaw shut and shakes his head while small patches of pink appear on his cheeks underneath all the dirt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
"No, no it's okay," you quickly stand up from your position by the tub spout so you're once again levelled. "- I was just surprised, that's all," you want to smack yourself for making him doubt himself. "Of course I'll stay."
Ice blue irises slowly find yours while the rose tint of his lower lip is being pulled between his teeth. "Are you sure?" he hesitates while sucking in some air, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."
"You're not," you touch your hand to his sternum to underline your words and watches as the crease between his eyebrows slowly reduces as he gradually relaxes under your touch. You can't help but think that even through all the dust and the grime, he looks incredibly beautiful.
"Let me give you some privacy," you unwillingly let go of him and turn away so he can undress in peace.
From behind you, you can hear the ruffle of his tac pants being pushed down his legs before the belt buckle clangs loudly against the tiles of the floor. It's followed by a series of loud painful grunts and hisses a few seconds later.
"Are you okay?" you ask and turn your head to the side, careful not to look directly at him as to not break the trust he put in you when he asked you to stay. "Buck?"
"Yeah, sweetheart," he sighs in embarrassment behind you, "it's just... do you think you could... help me?"
You turn around slowly to find him standing in the middle of the bathroom still wearing his torn t-shirt and Kevlar vest, bare-legged in boxer shorts and black socks pulled high up on his calf while his pants are lying crumbled on the floor beside him. He's awkwardly shifting the weight between his two feet, still clutching his right arm tightly. "It's my elbow."
Immediately, you furrow your eyebrows and walk over to him, taking his right hand in yours. "Yeah, I meant to ask you earlier. What happened?"
He doesn't answer but just silently lets you examine the swelling and black-purple skin that's half-hidden underneath dust and blood.
"Shit," you breathe and hear him give out a sharp hiss when you turn his arm over so you can examine the other side, "Buck, I think your elbow's torn."
"Me too," he gulps, "- I heard it snap."
At the mere thought of the sound, a wave of nausea hits you square in the chest and your stomach starts to churn. You can feel the tang of acid push up on your tongue when you imagine the pain he must've been enduring - still is enduring - but you fight it relentlessly and eventually manage to swallow down the bile. You should be taking care of him, not the other way around.
"We should go down to the infirmary," you say and keep your gaze firmly placed on the purple bruising, so he doesn't notice your discomfort. "I know it probably won't take too long to heal with the serum and all but just to make su-"
"Sweetheart," he gulps from above you and it makes you stop mid-sentence. "Not tonight, okay? I just wanna stay here tonight."
You look up at him, about to protest, but the words quickly die in your throat when you notice the look he's wearing. He's begging. Anxious. Heavy-hearted.
"Okay," you reluctantly agree and carefully let go of his arm while he sends you a grateful look. "Come on, let me help you out of this," you say quietly in defeat and unstrap his vest beneath his ribs, pulling the Kevlar plates over his head while he groans loudly.
"Ah!" he hisses and clutches his elbow tight, squeezing his eyes shut when you try and pull his t-shirt over his head. "Fuck!"
"You good?"
"Mm-hmm" he hums displeased with lips pressed so tightly together they're forming a thin, white line. "Just get it over with."
You pull on the hem again so the dark fabric rides up his stomach, revealing scarred skin pulled tight over the bulging muscles you've spent so many warm summer days discreetly staring at. "Can you reach your arms just a little higher?" you ask and watch how his diaphragm heaves in small electric shocks when he cannot control the loud gasps that escape his throat.
"Fuck me!" He hisses and squeezes his eyes so tightly shut that his entire face pales. "Just rip the damn fabric off," he hisses angrily, "I can't extend my fucking arm."
"Are you sure you don't wanna get it checked out in the med wing?" You let go of his t-shirt and look him deep in the eye, hoping your concerned gaze can convince him that it'll be worth the trip just to get your jumping nerves under control.
"Just... get me out of this thing," he sighs in defeat. "Cut it open, I don't care."
Disinclined, you dive down in the drawer underneath your sink, pulling out a small flat-legged scissor that came with a roll of gauze you bought last year when you had a nasty wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. "Are you sure?" You look up at him as you put the blade underneath the hem of his t-shirt.
Through the fingers you have placed over his chest, you can feel how his pulse quickly falls again when your eyes meet.
"S'just a t-shirt," he mumbles quietly while nodding, "I'm sure..."
Though you want to stay in this position forever, you slowly look away from him and down at your hands as your hesitantly start cutting, careful not to pierce Bucky's flesh with the sharp scissors.
The blade runs through the fabric like a hot knife through butter and you can feel every tense muscle that the edge of the scissors encounters as they travel over his warm stomach and chest. It makes the blood roar in your ears as more and more skin is revealed underneath your fingertips.
Concentrated on not hurting him even more, you keep your gaze firmly placed on his heavily panting chest as you cut open the front of his black shirt and carefully peel the fabric off his bruised arm until he's standing in front of you in nothing but black boxers and socks, his left hand carefully reaching out for yours as if to comfort both of you.
You've seen him bare chested several times before, but it's never been in this close proximity, never been this intimate, just the two of you holding hands and looking each other deep in the eye as you silently try to assure the other that everything is going to be okay.
"So..." you clear your throat, embarrassed by the fact that you have to hold yourself back from leaning forwards, planting a small kiss on his dusty cheek. "- I take it you can shimmy your way out of those on your own, right?" You nod down towards his boxers and he blinks as if he's just woken up from a trance.
"Yeah," he nods and lets go of your hand while the pink patches make a reappearance on his face.
Slowly, you turn around facing the running spout in the tub to the soft sound of cotton hitting the floor behind you. Involuntarily, you give out a gulp and flusteredly grab the box of bath salts just to give your shaking hands something to do. You cannot believe that your extremely fuckable best friend is standing naked in your bathroom no more than two feet away, begging you to stay close to him.
Eyes still firmly placed on the water in the tub, you point over your shoulder to the rainfall shower in the opposite corner of the bathroom. "You wanna rinse off first?"
"I better," Bucky hesitates behind you. "Don't you think?"
"It'll be a much nicer bath if you do," you awkwardly clear your throat.
"Yeah, you're right," he sighs and turns on the shower, immediately stepping inside and closing the glass door behind him so you can finally breathe freely again.
Through the mirror above the sink, you can make out his naked silhouette behind the matte glass and how the tension in his shoulders first tenfolds and then completely disappears the minute the water turns warm and he relaxes. He lets his forehead fall forwards so it's pressed up against the cold tiles while the water runs over his defined shoulders and down his sculpted back, and you literally have to force your eyes away from him and the shape of his handsome torso.
With your gaze fixed firmly on the fuzzy bathmat at the foot of the shower, you hear the sound of your bath gel being opened, followed by a series of painful grunts as Bucky desperately tries to lather himself with the soap.
"Fuck," he mumbles quietly and before you've even voiced a single word of concern, he continues. "Sweetheart, I know it's a lot to ask..." he says a little louder, the embararssement still evident in his voice, "- but I'm gonna need a little help in here... it's - it's this damn elbow," he sighs, "I'm useless. Can you...?" his voice trails off and the question hangs thickly in the air between you.
He wants you to join him.
To wash him.
Take care of him.
The thought alone makes you nervous, you have to admit, but he needs your help and you're willing to do anything for him.
"Give me a minute," you gulp and strip down to your panties, pulling on the bra you wore earlier so you're not completely bare in there. Several times, you've dreamt of you and Bucky naked together, but not like this - never like this - and you'll be damned if the first time he sees you without a shred of clothes is because he needs help and not because he needs you.
With your pyjamas neatly folded on top of the toilet seat cover, you take a final look at yourself in the mirror, brushing your hair out of your eyes before nervously reaching for the shower door with shaking hands.
He's still standing with his chiselled back towards you, letting the water rinse over his dirty hair and down between his shoulder blades with a slightly pinkish hue. "I'm so sorry about this," he mumbles uncomfortably and hands you your loofah behind his back. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"Come on, Buck," you say as you dribble a little soap on the sponge, fighting the urge to let your gaze run all the way down to his thick thighs. "Don't beat yourself up, you know I'm always here for you."
"Still," he mumbles and goes silent as the loofah gently runs over his tense shoulders and traces down his spine.
The white soap bubbles work magic on his dirty skin and you make sure not to leave out a single square inch of his scarred backside as you wash him while fighting the urge to wrap your arms around his torso, telling him how glad you are that he not alone came home, but also that he came to you seeking help instead of barricading himself in his room. It seems significant that he's here, as if something's changed between you though you cannot put your finger on it.
Completely lost in thought, you accidentally run the loofah a little too vigorously over his right tricep, sending shockwaves down his broken bone and resulting in a painful hiss falling from his open mouth.
"Sorry," you mumble, and scrub down his lower back, this time more careful with your movements though there aren't any dirty or bloody spots left on either side of his spine. "There we go" you conclude quietly when you realise that the rinsing water has finally lost its pink and grimy hue. "Turn around," you ask and hope he cannot hear the nervousness straining your voice. No matter what, you're not looking down.
Bucky seems just as jittery about his compromising position as you do, and he slowly spins around, revealing pink cheeks and heaving pecs, his gaze glued to the ceiling as he looks as if he's ready to fling himself off the nearest cliff. "God, sweetheart," he mumbles and breathes hard, "I'm so sorry for all this."
"Bucky, come on - what'd I tell you?" you touch the loofah to his chest, careful not to look anywhere than at the sponge itself as it traces over his collar bones and down his handsome stomach.
He merely sighs and stands completely still while you rinse the crevices between the metal plates over his left clavicle, careful not to move his torso so much he hisses in pain again.
"...You're a good friend," he mumbles after a few focused minutes where you've carefully been scrubbing the gold-plated lines in the vibranium, "- I ever tell you that?"
"All the time," you smile genuinely for the first time since he knocked on your door earlier that evening. If there's one thing you can count on, it's that Bucky Barnes appreciates you more than anything.
"I mean it," he says, "never doubt that."
You look up into his eyes.
He looks so soft and innocent as he stands before you, face finally clean, wet hair sticking to his forehead while he professes his love for you. Even if it's just platonic, it makes your heart skip a beat.
"I know, Buck."
"Good," he nods and blinks a few times with heavy, wet lashes framing his cerulean eyes. The air between you is thicker than ever and for a brief moment, it looks as if he's about to lean in and kiss you, but you break the tension by looking away. You don't want to take advantage of his vulnerable state no matter how badly you want that kiss.
"You ready for the tub?" You ask him in a weirdly shaky voice.
He nods while an almost inaudible sigh escapes his lips. "Yeah," he says and turns off the water, quickly exiting the shower before you can take notice of the disappointment burning on his skin.
You dry your feet on the small fuzzy mat, carefully watching Bucky's naked backside as he tests the temperature in the tub by dipping his toe in the water before stepping over the porcelain edge, sitting himself down.
Immediately, he gives out a content sigh, and drapes right arm over his chest, supporting his broken elbow with vibranium fingers, and you finally deem the situation safe enough to approach him again.
"Want me to wash your hair?"
"Mmh" he hums with closed eyes, immediately more relaxed now that he's covered by water. "I don't deserve you."
You grab your shampoo bottle and push out a decent amount of liquid, pressing it to his warm scalp to the sound of an alleviated sigh falling from his lips as you carefully start massaging it into his roots.
"Does that feel good?" you ask through a smile.
"Yeah, sweetheart," he groans quietly, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter awake, "- feels amazing."
You're slowly lathering shampoo into his long hair, enjoying the feel of him underneath your fingertips, how his soft hair slips through your hands while also trying not to think too much about the kiss you robbed yourself of in the shower. You can hear how his breathing slowly steadies and you think that maybe he's in the early stages of sleep but then he unexpectedly heaves a deep breath -
"You know... I haven't been scared of death for a long time," he says so sudden, so seriously that you're immediately brought out of your trance as your every muscle freezes at his austere tone of voice. "I used to not care if I lived or died but... tonight didn't go as planned," he swallows thickly and you can see how his jaw tenses up as his voice becomes husky, "- they... had me."
"What?" you pant with mortification, your every skeletal muscle paralysed as your breathing picks up. You don't have to ask him who he's talking about.
"Sam and I, we were so sure of ourselves," he shakes his head with his gaze fixed on the wall straight ahead. "We thought had the perfect plan... I - I'm such an idiot, nothing ever runs smoothly with Hydra."
You can feel your heart thumping in your throat. "What happened?" You whisper.
"Sam was on the look-out while I got the hard drive," he mumbles, "it was so easy. It didn't even take me five minutes before I was heading back towards the safehouse," he gulps, "- of course it was an ambush. I should have realised the minute I set foot inside that building."
"You couldn't have known," you whimper softly and stroke his scalp, but he doesn't listen.
"- I thought I was..." the words drown in a heavy sigh, and he stares blankly into space while blinking the tears away.
"Buck," you whisper and can feel the pain radiating from every fibre of his entire being when you wrap your arms around his wet torso and hold him close to your chest.
"They took me to a room. Strapped me down," he takes a ragged breath, and you hold on to him even tighter, "I was sure that was it. I never thought I'd find myself home again."
"You're home now," you whisper and softly kiss his shoulder, hoping that he doesn't feel the tear that lands on top of his clavicle. "You're home now with me."
"I know, sweetheart," he leans into your hug with a sigh, "trust me, I know."
"Everything's gonna be alright, love," you whisper against him and stroke your hand over his hair, "it's you and me against the world, always."
"You and me," he quietly confirms and leans back into your chest with a deep breath.
You continue stroking him over the hair, hold on to him for dear life, not willing to let go as you feel him relax more and more in your arms until he starts snoring slightly, finally warm and safe in your embrace.
"Buck, come on," you instinctively kiss him right below his ear, "you're sleeping. Let's get you into bed."
"Sorry," he mumbles groggily and lets his head fall back against your shoulder. "m'just so fucking tired. Been up thirty-six hours..."
"We'll talk tomorrow," you kiss him again and unwillingly unwrap yourself from around his chest, standing up straight beside him. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."
He's looking up at you with puppy eyes, gaze slowly travelling down your body and up again as if he hadn't realised you were in your lingerie until that exact moment. "You look beautiful," he says quietly and you half-expect him to laugh it off, but his face stays serious.
"...Thanks," you croak while handing him the fluffy towel, not sure how to react to his sweet words. He's called you many things, but he's never downright called you beautiful before.
"I can take it from here, sweetheart," he nods slowly and steals one last glance down at your body, "you just go to bed. I'll be in in a minute."
"Okay," you whisper and peel yourself away from the tension between you by swiftly turning around, exiting the bathroom.
Back in your room, you barely have time to get out of your wet underwear and put on a fresh set of pyjamas, before a boxer-clad Bucky joins you on the bed.
"Are you still okay with me staying the night?" He asks, nervously.
"Of course I am," you answer immediately and find his vibranium hand underneath the covers, lacing your fingers between his as you scan his weary features. "See if you can get some sleep, okay? You need it," you brush a strand of wet hair away from his face and make sure he's fine by gently cupping his cheek before closing your eyes, hoping he's following your lead, doing the same.
The dark room goes completely quiet for a few minutes where the only audible sound is of your synchronised breathing.
You can feel yourself grow impossibly tired too as you lie there hand in hand with Bucky, and you're just about to succumb to sleep, when suddenly, his quiet whisper breaks the silence.
"I thought about you," he says softly, and it makes you open your eyes again.
You're staring straight into his handsome face, his beautiful blue eyes scanning over your features as he slowly clarifies.
"When they had me strapped down, I thought about you," he moves his fingers against the palm of your hand and completely engulfs you. "The thought of not seeing you again was..." the words die in his throat, and he looks as if he's seconds away from whimpering. "- Sweetheart, you make me so afraid of dying."
You breathe hard with quivering lips, huge eyes matching his as you let his confession sink in.
"I was so desperate to come home, I snapped the restraints in half. Snapped my own elbow along with them," he winces slightly at the painful memory that once again makes your stomach churn. "Sweetheart, I fought like hell. I don't think I've ever been so angry... I - I killed everyone I could get my hands on, I just had to see you again," he brings your hand to his soft lips and kisses the delicate pulse point of your wrist.
"Buck..." a slow whine escapes your throat as you try to blink away a stubborn tear that slowly starts rolling down the side of your nose.
"I love you," he whispers so softly against your thin skin that you almost don't hear. His eyes are closed and he looks relieved to be lying here with you, so you carefully pull his hand to your chest, placing his vibranium palm above your heavily beating heart.
"I love you too."
"Sweetheart," he whispers above you and moves his hand a little on top of your soft pyjamas while lightly shaking his head with a sigh. "No, you don't understand..." he gulps and searches your face, "I love you."
Your breath hitches in your throat.
"- I want more than this," he slowly admits. "I want to be more than your friend. I'm in love with you."
You squeeze his hand and move a little closer to him, scared that he'll stop confessing his love if you say something to throw him off track.
He holds on to you and can feel how your pulse starts racing underneath your pyjamas. "I hope I'm not scaring you off."
"No, no you're not," you say in a hoarse voice, "not at all. I - I think about you all the time."
"You do?" He breathes hard, clearly not believing what he's hearing.
"Yeah," you merely nod and move your head a little closer to him while he does the same. "I'm in love with you too, Buck. Have been for quite some time."
With a serious look, he moves his hand from off your chest and up to your face where he brushes a finger over the delicate features of your cheekbone and down to your jawline. "I'm gonna kiss you now," he warns in a whisper and waits for you to give him a nod before he reaches his head forwards, finally claiming your mouth with his lips.
His hand snakes down the length of your spine and you press your entire front up against his hard chest and stomach while he caresses the small of your back, slipping his soft tongue inside your mouth. "God," he moans and gently grabs hold of your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him. "You make me feel whole again," he whispers against your skin and kisses a small line from your earlobe and down to the base of your clavicle. "What do you say sweetheart?" he mumbles and nibbles at your skin, "can I take you out?"
"Yeah, Buck, you can take me out," you squeeze his hand, and he smiles for the first time that evening, setting everything inside of you aflame.
He's finally smiling and it's because of you.
"I wanna do it the old-fashioned way," he says, beaming, "bring you flowers. Take you dancing. Show you how you're supposed to be treated."
You can't help but chuckle at his soft innocence. "You're an old man," you brush him over his hair, "nobody goes dancing anymore."
"I'll teach you," he chuckles back but lets it turn into a sharp hiss when he accidentally moves his broken elbow.
"That sounds lovely," you admit with a smile, excited at the prospect of having his hands on your hips while he tells you what to do, "- though I'm afraid we'll have to get that elbow sorted first if you want to manoeuvre me around on the dancefloor. I know you don't see the point in going but... med wing tomorrow morning?"
"Okay," he rolls his eyes with a laugh that makes your stomach go all warm and fuzzy. "If it gets me to go dancing with you just an hour earlier, it's worth the trip... Will you go with me?"
"Yeah, I'll go with you," you kiss his hand, and he chuckles so warmly your stomach lights up again. "I'll go with you always."
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venusstorm · 1 year
Text
𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞
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Fearful that Bucky only likes you for your body, you finally gather the courage to tell him how you feel.
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, oral, insecure!reader, mentions of body worshiping, angst, crying, hurt/comfort, fluff
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Masterlist | W/C: 733
̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ
Being jealous of something that was a part of you felt stupid, and yet, you fell victim to the blossoming insecurity.
You shifted slightly as Bucky spoke down to your pussy, mumbling incoherently as he slid his fingers through your slick folds. At first, it was endearing how much he worshiped you. Whispering how much he adored you between your thighs until you came around his sweet lips.
Until one day you felt disconnected – as if he was no longer worshiping you but solely what rested between your legs.
After hard days on the job, he wouldn't say a word. Would just slide open your legs and speak to your cunt in that sweet tone of his. "You're so pretty aren't you?" He'd sing. You knew he was talking about your pussy, so you never uttered a word in response besides loud whines and moans.
It continued like that for days and eventually, you grew tired of never being asked about your day. Missing the time when he’d rush home and the only thing he wanted to do was wrap you in his arms. When “my pretty baby” meant solely you.
You needed him to speak to you, to worship you face to face. As foolish as it seemed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he no longer saw you.
̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ
Tears sprung into your eyes as you tried to confess your feelings. You despised confrontation, and this was exactly why. No matter what emotion you felt, they were always accompanied by watery eyes. 
"Hey— hey, what's wrong sweetheart?" Bucky quickly joins you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you.
"What am I to you?" You whisper.
Bucky's taken aback. "My everything." He began to panic internally. Had he done something wrong? His worst fear was always disappointing you, hurting you. And seeing your face wet with tears as you question your relationship had his knees buckling.
"I feel like you don't care anymore," you hiccup.
He doesn’t hesitate to wrap you into a hug, kissing your forehead softly. He’s thankful you don’t pull away. "Please tell me what I did," he pleads.
You shake your head, laughing dishearteningly at how pathetic it would sound coming out of your mouth. "You know what. It's stupid I'm sorry. I'm just being overly sensitive."
His gaze hardens. "If it's enough to make you cry then it's not stupid. I just wanna help you, baby. Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”
You inhale shakily before speaking, terrified that Bucky would find you needy and pathetic for what you were about to say. "You only want to speak to my fucking cunt, James. You come home and don't even speak to me sometimes. I— I feel like you're using me." Your eyes widen after the last sentence, afraid that you pushed it too far. You knew he would never use you but god you couldn't help but feel as if he were.
Another wave of tears streams down your face as you await his response. "M'sorry baby, I know you probably never meant to do that and I don't know, maybe it's nothing at all and I'm just being more whiny than usual. I'm sure nobody on earth has complained about their boyfriend speaking to their fucking cunt and—"
Your rambling is cut off as Bucky smashes his lips against yours, his arms pulling you tightly against him. "I'm so sorry," he groans. "You're completely right to be upset. I should've realized...I was just so caught up in my own shitty days that I failed to realize I'd come home and not ask about yours."
He couldn't even continue speaking, not when he was envisioning you thinking about how he possibly didn't love you. That he only cared about what was between your legs and not the beautiful personality and person in front of him. Bucky began to tear up, he couldn't hold you close enough.
"You mean everything to me, doll. I'm gonna start praising you face to face like I should've been all along."
You whimper against his hold. Thankful that he was so understanding of your needs. 
"I love you so much," he whispers. "Love you more than anything and anyone in the world." His eyes connect with yours in pure disbelief that he’s with the most gorgeous soul he’s ever met.
"I love you too Buck," you sigh happily.
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Note
How about if Bucky was a police detective or a firefighter and ps!reader was like a baker or a nurse and she either Mets in the ER or her bakery and Bucky has like a girlfriend or someone he’s “talking” to and the someone notices that he goes in to the reader’s job more than usual and the girlfriend then goes to her job and says all this stuff but in the end Bucky and ps!reader end up together. Sorry for the rambling!!! 😅
༉‧₊˚. 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬
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― pairing: firefighter!bucky barnes x plus size!reader
― summary: falling for your avid customer bucky was never in the cards, but when a woman comes storming into your store calling you names, you began to think that he's not who he says he is.
― warnings: bullying, fat shaming, jealousy, hurt/comfort, stalking, mentions of stalking situations, angst, fluff, suggestiveness at the end, flirty bucky, angst with a happy ending.
― wc: 1482
⋆ a/n: thank you so much for this request! it was nice to work on an alternative universe fic, especially firefighter bucky!
masterlist | AO3
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"Good morning sweetness!" Bucky greeted over the sound of your bell hitting the door. You flushed, rolling your eyes as you smiled shyly from behind the counter, brushing some flour off of your hands and onto your apron as you exited the kitchen. "Morning Buck. Same as usual?" He leaned on the glass casings of cupcakes, cakes, cake pops, and other assorted baked treats. Usually, you'd scold customers for dirtying up the glass, but when it came to Bucky, you didn't care.
Bucky was a firefighter with a particular sweet tooth, practically showing up to your establishment almost every day. He was very flirtatious, and heavy on the nicknames as he watched you carefully. At first, the nicknames irritated you, because you thought it was just another man abusing the power of his occupation to catcall a woman, but you saw how kind he was, sometimes even bringing his coworkers Steve & Sam with him. You began to appreciate his arrival, even anticipating his visits whenever you heard the bell sing its similar song.
"So, Doll. I was thinking that maybe you and me could go out to dinner tomorrow night." Butterflies fluttered inside of your stomach at his words, raising an eyebrow as you tried to play your shock off. "Are you asking me out on a date, James?" His grin grew wider as you referred to him as his actual name. "Would that be a problem if I was?" You reached into the casing, pulling out his three chocolate chip cookies he always gets. You knew they for himself, Sam, and Steve. Your heart grew at the selfless act.
"I suppose it wouldn't," You said with faux non-chalance, "Just name the time and place." As you handed him the little baggie full of goodies, you couldn't stop staring at each other with lovesick smiles, even as he left, you burning holes into his muscular back. It was always nice to be able to finish off the day with a smile.
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The next day at work seemed to go by too slow for your liking, constantly checking the clock on the wall as you rung customers up.
"Looks like you have somewhere you're eager to be." Your best friend Wanda teased. You rolled your eyes, a tiny grin on your face as you shrugged. "Who knows?" You said playfully. Wanda nudged you with her shoulder, giggling as you feigned annoyance.
Your giggling was cut short by your door hitting the wall, a furious looking woman storming in.
"Which one of you is _______?!" She all but screeched. Your eyes were wide as Wanda rested a hand on your shoulder, giving you a look of concern. "It's okay Wands," You whispered to her, "I got this." Putting on a kind smile, you walked from behind the counter to greet her. This wasn't the first time you had angry customers, but you were always able to calm them down, even coming to an agreement of a refund.
"That's me!" You said with fake enthusiasm. "What can I do for you?" You asked. She just rolled her eyes; her body close to yours as she eyed you up and down. "Stay away from James you fat freak." You could hear gasps come from your customers as your heart fell into your stomach. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean." You said nervously, bile feeling like it was about to rise in the back of your throat.
"What I mean is that he's mine. So, I don't know what you think you're doing flirting with him, but it's got to stop. Now. I'm his girlfriend, and if I ever see you snooping around him ever again, there's going to be some problems." As she stepped closer, you stepped back. "And it's not like he'd ever go for someone as big as you are anyways. Even though he's a firefighter doesn't mean he deals with zoo animals too." She then plastered on a condescending smile. "So, he won't be coming back here anymore. Toodles." With that, she exited out of the store, leaving you standing there utterly humiliated as you tried to wrap your head around what just happened.
Why didn't you say anything? What was she talking about? Bucky had a girlfriend? There were all of these questions swirling in your minds as you felt Wanda's gently hand on your body once more, what she was saying falling on completely deaf ears as you stared at the glass door with your company name on it blankly. All you could do was turn your head to face her with a watery smile. "It's okay, Wands. I'm fine." Despite your words, you disappeared back into the kitchen where you allowed your tears to fall.
You stopped looking at the time, tending to the people that chose to sit in the booths, the college kids that always had study groups there. You knew Bucky was probably waiting for you, but you couldn't find it within your broken heart to care. You had no idea that he was a cheater, the cute — and what you thought was harmless — firefighter turned out to be a total prick. Maybe you got too hopeful. You fell into dark thoughts, ones that you hadn't dwelled on since you were in high school.
You closed up by yourself, bidding Wanda a fruitless goodbye as she held you in her embrace, whispering words of affirmation and encouragement into your ear. Wanda was a good person, the only one that could probably help pull you back from wherever you were falling from.
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You were bent over wiping a table when you heard that familiar jingle.
"Sorry, but we're closed," You said, "Come back tomorrow! We open early in the morning." But the door never closed, the bracing breezes brushing up against the naked skin of your arms that your work shirt didn't cover. "I think I already know that." Bucky sounded from behind you. Your whole body froze, your grip on the wet rag tensing as you didn't even bother to look behind you.
"Go away, James." You said coldly. "No." You scoffed and finally turned around. He looked nice, clean shaven, his hair even styled when it was usually always out of place. He dressed up for you.
"I don't go dates with cheaters." You said simply. That made his eyebrows furrow. "Cheater? Doll, I'm single." That made anger bubble deep inside of you. "Oh trust me, I know you're not, because your psycho girlfriend came in my store and humiliated me in front of everyone!" Then, a look of understanding overtook his face, along with one of frustration.
"Goddamn it," Bucky groaned, "Fuckin' Dot." He walked up to you, taking one of your hands in his. You wanted to pull away from him, but the way his callused and worked fingers gripped yours was enchanting. "Baby, that woman... she's—" He gulped. He looked almost anxious. "She's an ex of mine. I broke it off with her and she went psycho. At first, I thought she could just leave me alone, but then... but then she started to stalk me, so I had to get a restraining order against her. It had recently just expired. I figured she had started stalking me again, but I hadn't expected her to be this... to be this bold." He ended with a sigh.
"I'm sorry, _____. I really am. I'm sorry she did that to you, you didn't deserve it. You didn't deserve to be dragged into my shit." You shook your head softly, raising a hand so that it could rest on his now stubble free cheek. "Yes, I didn't deserve it, but you didn't either, Buck. I wish you would have told me about this, yeah, but I understand why you didn't. You wouldn't have scared me away because... because I wanna be with you, and I was really fucking excited when you asked me to go on a date with you." Your thumb caressed his cheek.
He looked at you through his eyelashes, large palms hesitantly landing on your waist, giving you an out to pull away if the gesture made you too uncomfortable. It didn't, instead, it heated up your body, a pleasant warmth settling in your gut at the feeling.
"I would still be willing to go on that date, if you want." You asked. You were scared that he would say no, you did stand him up after all. "Well, the restaurant is closed, but I'm pretty sure that Chinese place is still open. We could order in and watch tv at my place?" You raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. "You're not trying to get me alone so you can get in my pants, are ya, Buck?" You asked playfully. He only chuckled, leaning his head down and brushing his lips against yours.
"It all depends on how you want this night to go."
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ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood
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buckyalpine · 1 year
Text
Her
IDK why I’ve been into hurt comfort recently, but here we are, why am I like this. This was poorly written, that’s also a warning. 
Warnings: Aaangst, sad sad Bucky, hurt comfort
“I miss her”
Bucky swallowed thickly, his eyes trained on his coffee while Steve nodded empathetically, sitting across from him in the kitchen after their morning run. Of all things Bucky had gone though, that loss was something he never quite recovered from. He’d bury it away as best as he could but it would still haunt him every single night. He continued to sip his black coffee, trying to ignore his feelings, but it was becoming harder to do. 
You made your way down the hall, your heart dropping a little as soon as the words left his mouth. Bucky had never mentioned missing anyone in his past before even though he was open with you about almost everything.
Almost.
You tried to shake the feeling off; it wasn’t your place to pry if he wasn’t ready to open up about that. You’d always respected his boundaries and this wouldn’t be any different. You entered the kitchen, waving to Steve and giving Bucky a peck on the cheek before making some tea for yourself. He gave you a strained smile before wordlessly getting up and making his way back to your shared bedroom for a shower. 
He stood under the hot water, swallowing the lump forming in this throat. He should have been over it by now, there was nothing he could have done. It had been years but for some reason that wound still felt fresh. He couldn’t bring himself to talk about her with anyone. The most he was able to do was mention it to Steve because he knew her, but even then, it hurt too much. He let the burn of the water distract him, hoping that by the time he got out of the shower, the puffiness of his eyes and the redness of his nose would be less noticeable. 
His heart continued to burn. 
He wanted to see her one last time. One last hug. One last kiss. One more time to tell her he loved her. One more time just to hear it back.
*****
“You gotta talk about her with someone Buck. It’s eating you away” Steve said quietly, while the they both trained and again you felt a little pang hit your stomach. 
“Hurts” Was all Bucky could muster, shaking his head and shrugging, taking a swing of his water. You had seen him upset before but whenever he thought of her, it was different. You could see him struggle to keep it together, aggressively wiping his eyes before pulling himself together again to spar with Steve.  It was getting harder and harder for him to pretend everything was fine.
Bucky had never made you feel insecure. You were the center of his world and he made sure you knew that every single day. Still. You couldn’t help the tinge of uncertainty that gnawed at the back of your mind each time you over heard Bucky mention how much he missed her. He never said more. You sighed to yourself, continuing with your workout figuring he’d talk to you when he was ready. You wished he would just tell you so you could comfort him.
*****
You woke up hearing soft sniffles and whimpers beside you; your heart breaking because you knew he was having another nightmare. You sat up to find his face buried in his pillow, his arms clutching onto it for dear life, almost trembling. You had seen plenty of nightmares before but never where he looked so small and scared, almost like a child.
“P-please come back” He called for her as best as he could but she kept moving further away. His tears continued to stain his pillow, hugging it tighter and tighter, why was she so far away? 
“No, don’t go!”
“Bucky, wake up baby” You whispered, not wanting to startle him. Your hands gently rubbed his back while his breaths grew faster. It pained you to see him so scared, his skin cold to the touch from the sheen of sweat that covered his body. 
“Don’t hurt her, don’t take h-her from m-e!” A sob slipped passed his lips, she was being dragged away and there was nothing he could do, even in his dreams, he couldn’t say bye to her one last time. 
“Bucky” You kept stroking his forehead, trying to gently pull him out of his nightmares without scaring him but his eyes were squeezed shut, distress confusing him deeper. 
“No” He tossed in his sleep, continuing to cry and plead, he was so lost in his nightmare he couldn’t pull himself out. The second he called for her again, you felt your heart shatter into pieces. 
“Mama!” He shot up, his breaths ragged, looking around the room frantically “Ma?” He couldn’t see her anywhere, she was gone again. He felt your warm hands on his body, collapsing and sobbing in your hold, desperately trying to curl up on your chest and make himself as small as possible. 
“Bucky, bubba, shhh, it was a nightmare baby” You cradled his trembling body while he cried harder, clinging onto you, struggling to pull himself out of his dream. 
“Mommy, I-I wa-nt mommy” He couldn’t hold anything inside anymore, you were the most comforting thing he had in his life and he needed you more than ever. 
“I know baby” You stroked his back as best as you could, while he curled himself up like a baby. “Breathe with me Bucky, shhhhh” Your hand rested on his chest, soothing his frantic heart while he focused on the rise and fall of your breaths. 
“Mama” His little voice had been reduced to a whimper, making your eyes sting. You gave him the softest kisses, covering him with the blanket, keeping him safe in your arms while tears continued to streak down his cheeks. 
“You miss her baby?”
He nodded against your skin, whimpering when he thought about her again, the way she was proud of him when she first saw him in his uniform. The way she took care of him and made sure he took care of Steve. The way she used to call him baby boy, even when he cheeks flushed and he told her not to. He felt another wave of sadness thinking about the horror she would have felt knowing what happened to him after he went off to war. Her baby boy she loved in so much pain, waiting for someone to help him after he fell from the train. She was all he could think about in those moments, hoping he’d get to see her once more before dying. 
“I miss mama” He wanted to be a little kid again, running around with Steve, coming home to the warmth of his home. Playing with his sister. Eating the warm dinner his mom would have on the table. 
“She-she told me t-o come back” He sobbed into your chest, remembering the last time she hugged him, telling him to come back to her one piece, that she’d be waiting. He couldn’t even do that. You let him cry as much as he needed too, kissing him and cradling him while he stayed curled up on your chest. 
His breathing was still strained between sniffles but he had relaxed slightly in your hold. He closed his eyes, focusing on the way your hands moved up and down his spine and the way your lips pressed softly on his forehead. 
“M’sorry” He didn’t know what he did to deserve you, snuggling into you even more.
“Why baby?” You peered down at him while he stayed buried in your chest. 
“I-I never told you about her. She would have loved you” He whispered, still not wanting to meet your eyes, “hurts”. He sunk further into the blanket, hiding himself from the world, only wanting to feel you. His home. He knew it would take a little while before he fully opened up but he knew with you, he was safe. 
“It’s okay bubba, I’m here. You can tell me about her when you feel ready Bucky, for now just breathe for me, okay?” 
“Will-will you please hold me?” You knew it wasn’t just for tonight. He needed you. He needed the warmth and the comfort, a safe space to cry, a space where he could feel vulnerable and small again, he knew he had that with you. 
“Always angel, I’ll always hold you” 
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bucky-bucket-barnes · 2 years
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dance with me
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Summary: After a bandage session with the lovable but stubborn Bucky Barnes, you decide to end the night with a dance. 
Paring: female!reader x bucky barnes
Warnings: whump, hurt comfort, angst, fluff, minor descriptions of violence
Word Count: 1.9k
Masterlist
-
No matter how many times you’d seen the same pair of nasty bruises upon his body, you couldn’t stop yourself from wincing at the sight. Each scar on his forehead somehow echoed on yours, each cut on his limbs becoming a phantom in your nervous system. Every time you’d pour alcohol on a fleshy wound, still freshly torn around the edges, you’d flinch because he wouldn’t. 
It was an odd system you two had worked out. Bucky would come home from a mission, refusing medical care from anyone who tried to help. After showing up at his door and a few minutes of coaxing and reassuring, you’d eventually dress his minor wounds and send him in the next day to get a full check up. 
“I can do it myself. I’m not your burden to bear.” 
“You’re not my burden, you’re my friend.” 
“You know what I mean.” His tired eyes gazed into yours.
“I don’t think I do.” Your sorry eyes stared back into his.
Knocking on his door, you took a deep sigh. What am I doing here? You knew he’d come home the night before, most likely immediately crashing into his room the moment he tore his dirtied boots off. The image of him crawling into a lifeless room, exhausted body collapsing before he could even pull the covers over himself weaved a certain heaviness in the heart. So there you were, once again at his door, asking to be let in. 
Bucky shot up on his couch, a wince hissing through his teeth as he moved. If you had seen him, you surely would’ve scolded him. Another gentle knock sounded from his door. He knew that timid sound from a mile away. You were always caught in between wanting to let him rest and needing to make sure he wouldn’t get an infected cut from being so damn stubborn. He pondered letting you eventually fade from the door, going home and snuggling back into bed at this awfully late hour of the night. The thought of you walking in the dark all alone made the tight feeling in his chest ache more than his bruises did, though, so he decided against it. 
Bucky didn’t even bother to ask who was there, he knew. Standing up slowly, he went to open the door, being greeted by his favorite smile, the dim light of the hallway casting a warm haze over your complexion. 
“Bucky,” you greeted, already stepping in.
“There’s my favorite girl,” he lulled, voice still rasped from sleep.  
You scoffed, leading him to sit down on the couch. “You say that to every woman that comes here?”
“Only the pretty ones.” 
Clearing your throat, you attempted to divert the conversation. 
“How was the mission?”
“I came back in mostly one piece.”
“Mostly?” you mouthed in confusion, digging through his cabinet to find spare bandages. Your eyes already began searching his body for damage. 
“Yeah, well 1945 was not my year,” he grumbled, flexing the fingers of his bionic arm. 
Despite your best effort to remain composed, you couldn’t help the small laugh that broke past your lips. Seeing you fight hard to choke back your giggling in an attempt to protect his feelings made his lips curl in delight. 
“You come here to play doctor again?”
“Did you go to the infirmary this time?” You couldn’t find the bandaids you’d left in the draw from the last time. 
“I didn’t need to,” he rationed lightly, placing a gentle hand over yours, attempting to stop frantic search. His steady hand upon yours made you realize how much you were shaking. He could feel your heart fluttering, the tenseness of your joints. 
“You’re going to worry yourself sick over me. I’m okay. It’s two in the morning, you should be in bed.” His tone wasn’t scolding. His voice was soft around the edges with endearment, eyes still wet with sleep. 
“If I don’t worry about you, who will?” you responded, moving your hand to gently turn his face to examine it further, dismissing his commentary. There was a ripe wound across his right temple, a messy pile of red and purple flesh. 
You motioned for him to sit down and he complied tiredly, realizing you couldn’t be bargained with until you patched up something on his tattered body. He was shirtless when you entered, a vain attempt to battle the summer heat that knew how to stick to every crevice of his body. His chest had smaller bruises, superficial cuts here and there, but nothing too worrying. 
“What happened,” you asked, dabbing some rubbing alcohol onto a washcloth. 
“Occupational hazard. You should see the other guys,” he joked. 
“I’m serious,” Your hands reached gently to his head wound, pressing ever so lightly. His natural reaction would have been to wince, the sound of his open cut sizzling loudly in his ears. He knew it’d drive you mad, sending you further into a spiral of worry, so he remained quiet. “It’s usually not this bad.”
“I’m just not in the talking mood tonight,” he answered solemnly. A band aid isn’t going to fix this. You dropped the bloodied cloth in the sink before you reached for the bandages on the counter. 
“Just,” you sighed, “Please be more careful.”
“How else am I supposed to get your attention? You only come around when I’m broken.”
Guilty. He wasn’t wrong and it made your stomach feel sour. He’d invited you out on other occasions, even mustering up the courage to ask you on a few dates. You wanted to say yes, he even knew that. But nothing was ever that simple because why would it be?
Your relationship was better like this, it was safer like this. Seeing Bucky hurt now drove you almost damn mad, you couldn’t imagine your reaction if you were dating. Spending long nights curled up in a half empty bed, worrying about somehow halfway across the world. 
Every mission could be your last one. 
It won’t be, though. As long as I’ve got you, I always have a reason to come home. 
That’s sweet, but that’s not enough. 
“Bucky,” you sighed apologetically. What was there to say? You weren’t sorry. You still felt bad. This was a tired conversation you had had before, a broken record looping on your tongues. 
“Sorry,” he apologized. “I’m just tired.” He gave you a weak smile in a fruitless attempt to reassure you. 
Tired from work or just tired of this? 
“Yeah,” you answered half heartedly, “I get it. I’ll bandage this for tonight but you should get someone else to look at this.”
Bucky silently nodded his head, keeping his eyes trained on your worried expression. He studied the knot between your brows, the slight downturn of your lips. You worked slowly, wrapping the white cloth around his head a few times before securing it neatly. Maybe it was fatigue or just the lighting playing a trick on your vision, but he appeared so much younger in that moment. That boyish grin that would appear everytime you caught his eyes, a low hum sounding from his throat to fill the silence.
“I’m done. You should be good for the night.”
“Thank you.”
“I should go now.” 
“It’s late, stay.” 
A steady eye contact remained between you two. Bucky feared if he looked away for a moment you’d disappear into the night like a shadow. It was so easy to miss you, even if you were standing right in front of him, a deep breath away. 
You didn’t want to leave, in all honesty. The time of night wasn’t much concern to you. 
“I don’t want to bother you.”
“Please, it’s all I ever hope you’ll do,” he pleaded lightly, slipping your hands into his. “Everytime you walk out that door, I don’t know when you’ll come back.” 
His palms were rough and warm like a dying fire. You could feel your resolve crumbling as each second ticked silently. 
Okay. 
You’d stay because your body and heart were both exhausted from always running. Because one night wouldn’t make much of a difference, you both were in too deep. You’d play pretend for the evening, actors without a script but who knew this scene by heart. You’d stay because sometimes these sweet moments, these little ecstasies, were somehow enough to get by on. 
A small moment of silence, your eyes turning away from Bucky’s. 
“You still have that old CD lying around?” you asked off into the distance, staring at the empty kitchen sink. 
“Of course I do.” You could hear the smile in his voice. He walked over to his radio before popping in the CD you gave to him, signed with love. A collection of different songs from the decades. Love songs, to be more exact. 
You can blame me, try to shame me, and still I'll care for you. 
He let out a sigh of joy. “Oh, I love this one.”
You let out a small laugh, seeing his body begin to sway. It was easy to see how he wooed so many women in his prime. There was something effortless about his movement, something people spent years trying to capture in a bottle. 
“You wanna dance, soldier?” you teased, your body making its way over to join him. 
“Never took you for a dancer.” 
He’d dreamed of a sickly sweet moment like this with you. This was the kind of memory parents told their children after a few too many beers. We were young, we were in love. 
“If we dance, we don’t have to speak.” 
Talking never got you two anywhere good. You’d either stop pretending like you wouldn’t be gone by the time he woke up or he’d find a way to ask for your love again as if he didn’t already have it. 
The world may think I’m foolish, they can’t see you like I can. Oh, but anyone who knows what love is will understand. 
He reached out his palm in invitation, you already closing the space between the two of you. His hands glided to your waist, fingers taking their time to feel your outline. Your arms hooked around his neck, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down your spine. 
I know, I know to ever let you go is more than I could ever stand. 
This is what normal people who are in love did. They stargazed in one another’s eyes and somehow managed to make empty promises without whispering a word. 
Oh, but anyone who knows what love is will understand. 
“This is ridiculous,” he laughed quietly. 
“We can stop.”
“I never said I wanted to stop.” 
If they try love, they’ll understand.
The space between you two was becoming suffocating. You leaned into his mouth for air and he was happy to provide oxygen. His lips were as soft as you pictured them, gentle as they moved. The tension from your body slipped into the night as you fell into his bruised arms. 
For the first time in a long time, it had felt like Bucky had come home. 
-
a/n: the song in this fic is “anyone who knows what love is” by irma thomas. reblogs are more than appreciated and i hope you enjoyed :) 
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lovelybarnes · 2 years
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warmth- b. barnes
pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: hydra, another headcanon that makes me so unbelievably sad i cannot hug bucky barnes about: request! it's really cold one night and Bucky tries to Soldier through it but reader finds him and wraps him up in blankets and holds him to sleep and he just feels so safe and warm and it's just very soft and good. a/n: thank you for everyone who gave me warm synonyms!! true heroes
your apartment hits you like sunlight when you open the door, dissolving the horripilation risen on your arms with the power of the heater, thawing verglas frosted over your nose.
you’d demanded it after the highs of your cheeks met the chill outside your door, already wet with sticky snowflakes and numb with the ice of the wind. you told bucky as such when snow crunched underneath your boots in your haste to get to the car, grasping his hand when you nearly slipped. he had huffed a stifled laugh, pulled you to your feet, and shoved your hand alongside his in his pocket, warm fingers beginning to draw heat on the dips of your knuckles.
you return with a dramatic sigh and a promise to bake the cookie dough in the fridge, closing the door after bucky enters with bags of takeout swinging from vibranium fingers. he’s quieter than usual, extending his fingers like a starfish after he sets down the food, joints aching as he rolls his ankle. he doesn’t take off his coat when he comes in.
you spare him a concerned glance from the kitchen as you push down on the frigid dough, skin pale from the cloud of flour that sheens your face and leopard-patterns your eyelashes. “bucky?”
his attention snaps to you a beat late, something distant in his eyes that washes away with a blink and a clear of his throat. “yeah? do you need help?”
“no,” you reply, about to press when he’s striding over to you after he washes his hands, slipping off his jacket and draping it over the couch. “honey—”
he pushes the tip of his ring finger into the ball of dough beneath your hands, raising an eyebrow at you when resistance forms spiderweb-cracks around it. “let me help.”
you purse your lips before you give in, watching his face carefully as refrigerator-cold dough meets snow-cold goosebumps. there’s a twist that makes you frown, but it’s gone in a moment, replaced with an easy smile as he pinches off a piece and pops it in his mouth. 
“bucky!” you chastise, swatting his hand when he reaches for another.
“it tastes better like this!” he insists.
“the whole point of the cookies is to warm up the house and have something hot to eat!”
“fine, fine,” he gives in. “but just one more little piece.” you glare at him but let him tear more off before you press heart molds into sticky, extended dough.
it smells sweet and nearly summery by the time you settle in to go to sleep, feet clad in fluffy socks and bed stocked with more blankets than usual. you murmur a goodnight into bucky’s shoulder and let your eyes flutter shut, expecting his breathing to ease and steady like usual, but it never does.
you’re half-asleep when you feel the bed dip from next to you, low growls from the depths of bucky’s throat echoing in the silence of the room. a floorboard creaks beneath his weight and a door opens.
you frown when you notice it’s the one to the living room, rubbing the base of your palm against your eyes before you squint against the yellow light peeking through the bottom of the door, interrupting the darkness.
with a yawn and a sleepy stumble, you push open the door to see bucky staring down at a cabinet, his face contorted in something you don’t see often in the comforts of your home, medicine rattling in bottles and boxes as he searches for something.
“bucky?” you call.
he freezes, turning around with an apologetic smile, looking much more alert than you are. he hadn’t slept at all. “did i wake you? i’m sorry.”
“‘s okay. what’re you doing?”
something crosses his face like hesitation before he answers. “looking for pain relievers.”
your eyebrows knit in worry. “you’re in pain?”
“fuckin’ serum… healed bones wrong. ‘feels like they’re… rubbing against each other when i move.” something like a growl escapes him as he bridges a thumb over his index and stretches it. his leg shifts and he grimaces. you stride over to him to take his hand into yours, but gasp when his skin is ice to the pads of your fingers.
“you’re freezing, bucky.”
the lines of his face set. “it’s nothing. i’ve been colder.”
you frown. sandwiching his hands between yours, you tuck your fingers in between the crevices of his and blow warm air on the fingers you couldn’t cover. vibranium remains unchanged at your lips, but you persist.
“why didn’t you tell me you were cold?”
“it’s not a type of cold that goes away easily,” he replies. the resolute expression on his face makes your heart drop.
you think for a second before nodding, squeezing flesh fingers with one hand as you lead him back to the bedroom. he calls your name in confusion when you sit him down, scrounging around in your drawer. you offer him medicine for pain before padding off to the closet. he watches dazedly, tablet still sitting in his vibranium palm.
“that’s the best we have. steve said it helped when it ached,” you say, pulling out blankets upon blankets from the closet.
he raises an eyebrow as you begin to unfold them and spread them over the bed, a few in your arms when you turn toward him. he pops the pill into his mouth and swallows it down with the water from the bottle at his bedside table when you glance pointedly at him.
“here,” you mumble, glancing at his face to catch his expression as you wrap a blanket around his shoulders. you rub your hands up and down his arms with quick motions and press a kiss to his head before grabbing another.
“sweetheart—”
“are you warmer?”
he pauses as he realizes he is. you smile gently, teeth digging into the flesh of your bottom lip as you swaddle him in another blanket. you turn off the lights and settle into bed as well, hugging him close. you pull the covers over the both of you and he begins to laugh. the sound is heat in itself, like ice is thawing from his chest, allowing something genuine and sunny to mold his face. “i’m gonna overheat here, doll.”
“you’ll be fine,” you murmur, brushing your lips over his forehead. “hands,” you order, extending yours in an invitation. obediently, he gives them to you, a little restrained from the blankets around him. you lead them underneath your shirt, where you press them against your abdomen. you shiver as their rime meets soft skin, but hold steady. he can’t help but marvel as his fingers crawl around your waist to hold you closer.
“d’you feel better?” you ask after a moment, when he’s flushed and a little fuzzy from the love you treat him with.
“yeah,” he responds honestly. “thank you.”
he feels the curve of your lips against his hair. “‘f course.”
he thinks winter won’t be so bad with you swaddling him in blankets.
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kinanabinks · 1 year
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sore spot
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18+
bucky hits a sore spot when he makes a shitty joke, unknowingly triggering your deepest insecurity.
content warning: bucky x reader, mention of sex, angst, insecure!reader, a little crying, soft!bucky, hurt/comfort, fluff.
a/n: lower your expectations for this one, folks. it's just something i daydreamed and couldn't stop myself from writing at 3am. very self indulgent.
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"This is the dorkiest thing ever," Bucky says with a wide grin as he holds up the action figure he picked up from your shelf. "You're so fuckin' cute."
"Hands off, asshole, that's 30 years old," You warn him as you sit up in your bed, the sheets tangled around your legs. "And limited edition. There's only, like, 50 in the whole world."
"No way!" He fake gasps, before smirking. "If I hadn't just fucked you, I'd call you a virgin right now."
"This is why I kept you away from my apartment as long as possible," You groan, lying back down. "You're too much of a jock to appreciate my collection."
Bucky saunters back over to the bed and kneels onto it, giving you a lazy smile. "You know you love me, candy," He coos, gently poking your cheek.
"Hold your horses, Barnes," You utter, narrowing your eyes at him. "You have a long way to go."
Exhausted from the long night you've just had, you lay back down and allow your eyelids to drop slightly, causing the glow of your fairy lights to blur. You can sense Bucky moving around, likely putting his underwear back on.
"Don't go to sleep yet," He whines softly once he's done, rubbing your bare leg. "I'm not tired."
You let out a half-assed moan in response, too comfortable to move and too tired to say a coherent word.
"C'mon, baby, let's talk about aliens or something," He goes on to implore you. "Tell me about your favorite childhood memories."
With a snort, you move your leg in an attempt to push him away. "It's bedtime, James," You grumble. "You can't seriously expect me to have any energy after what you just did to me."
He laughs heartily at that, and you feel a sense of pride. Your relationship is in its early days, so you're still in that stage of wanting desperately to impress him. Not so desperately that you'll stay up any longer, though.
"Fine. How about I go to Lisa's room, instead?" Bucky suggests, making your eyes shoot open.
Turning to look up at him, you shrug. "Yeah, maybe you should," You play along half-heartedly, feeling your stomach drop as a sense of dread washes over you. "You want to?"
"Maybe I should," He echoes with a smirk. "I'm sure we'll have plenty to talk about."
"Mhm," You reply, remembering last week when he made the same joke. Why does he joke about that so much? Is she constantly on his mind? Does he think of her often? They do say there's truth to every joke.
"Could I steal one of your condoms? I'm gonna need it," He says as his smirk widens. "Maybe two. You don't mind, right?"
You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out. The combination of your exhaustion and the fact that your ugliest fears are rising to the surface almost makes you break down, so you turn away from him and pull the sheets up to your chin.
Shaking your head as best you can is futile, as a whimper leaves your throat on its own accord. It sends Bucky straight to you, utter concern in the way his arms wrap around you, which only makes the tears in your eyes spill out.
"Baby?" Bucky asks lowly, his tone suddenly serious. The bed dips as he moves closer to you, and you hope to God he'll think you're just falling asleep.
The past few weeks with Buck have been incredible. Nothing but good days have blessed you since you met him, but you knew it was only a matter of time until it all came crashing down. There was no way you could simply be happy forever. You try to hold in your emotions as best you can, but you can't help but sniffle quietly.
"Are- are you really upset?" Bucky asks you with a whisper, slight fear in his tone. Fuck. He can't have ruined things this early on.
"Shit," He whispers, and you inwardly cringe. This is the first time you've cried in front of him, and it's definitely way too soon to be getting this emotional, but fuck, you can't help it.
You knew this was gonna happen eventually. It always does. At least it was fun while it lasted.
"I was just kidding, I swear," He promises, holding you tight.
"It's fine," You manage to say through your sobs, convincing nobody. It becomes harder and harder to breathe until you finally breakdown, panic settling in. Pulling the sheets over your face, you cower away from him as though that'll be enough to hide your tears. He keeps his grip tight around you, slowly pulling the sheets down when you choke on your breath.
"Just relax for me, candy," Bucky says soothingly, holding you close. "Take in a deep breath. Just like that. One more for me. There you go, that's a good girl. Give me one more."
You do your best to do as he says, breathing deeply. After the third time, your shakiness calms down and you feel your heartbeat return to a normal pace.
"I'm so sorry, baby, I was entirely kidding," He swears, pure regret on his face.
"My last two exes said they'd have rather been with her," You utter, still unable to look at him. "One of them admitted that he only got with me because she rejected him." It's taking you a lot to say this out loud to someone else. To be opening up about the worst insecurity you have for the very first time. "It's been like that my whole life. Guys would show interest in me just for a chance to get closer to her," You admit with a wince. "Up until a couple of years ago, guys barely paid me any attention. When they did, it was because of her."
Wiping your wet cheeks, you shake your head, swallowing thickly. You can't even make eye contact with him and you instead stare at your hands which are grabbing fistfuls of the duvet. After a few moments, you've fully caught your breath and you can finally put together a coherent sentence.
"It's just a bit of a sore spot," You explain with a grimace. "The whole Lisa thing."
He silently nods, prompting you to explain further.
Bucky listens closely, his brows furrowing. "Fuck. I'm so sorry, baby, I'm the biggest asshole ever. If I'd known-"
"It's really not your fault, I know you were only kidding," You assure him, finally turning to look at him. "But there's just this voice that tells me not to trust you. That says you're playing the long con and you're only with me so you can get to her."
"I didn't even know her before I met you," He reminds you assuringly.
"Well, maybe eventually you'll realize you want her more," You mumble, sitting up when you see the look of shock on his face. "I know that's not true, but I can't help but feel that way."
He takes in a deep breath, keeping his eyes on yours. "Baby, listen to me: you and Lisa are not the only two women in the world," He says bluntly. "I don't need to decide which of you I want more. I've met a hundred Lisas, and there are thousands more out there, and I don't wanna be with any of them. I wanna be with you, and you're the only you."
"That was cheesy," You mumble as your lips pull up slightly.
"C'mere, candy," Bucky whispers, pulling you closer and softly kissing your forehead. "There is no way I'm gonna do anything to fuck this up with you. Liking someone as much as I like you doesn't come easy to me."
Giving him a smile, you rest your hand on his lightly defined abs. "I'm flattered," You whisper.
"You should be," He mumbles coyly, tightening his hold on you. "I want you. That isn't changing anytime soon, alright?"
"What about ever?" You ask sheepishly, running your fingers through the tufts of hair on his chest.
His lips gently kiss your cheek before he lowly says, "It isn't changing ever," He corrects himself. "As long as you want me, I'm yours. And as long you're mine, I want you."
"What about- what if I was an alien?" You wonder. "Would you still want me?"
"Sure," He answers confidently.
"With slimy tentacles and-"
"Abso-fucking-lutely," He immediately cuts you off, his eyes lighting up. "As long as you promise to peg me with them."
You laugh loudly, nodding. "Okay. I promise," You agree.
"Would you still want me if I was an ogre?" He questions you with a raised brow.
"A hundred percent," You reply. "Your dick would be even bigger."
"What if I was a dickless ogre?" He adds.
You contemplate it for a few moments before answering, "That's fine. I'd fuck you with my tentacles."
"Awesome," Bucky utters, before the two of you lay back down under the covers. He pulls you closer, cradling you in his arms. "You still tired?"
"I'm five seconds away from falling asleep," You warn him as your eyes flutter shut.
"Alright. Sweet dreams, candy," He whispers, stroking your arm soothingly. "I'm gonna go hang out with Lisa."
You nudge his stomach with his elbow, making him grunt.
"Sorry. Bad timing?" He asks between chuckles.
With a content sigh, you get comfortable in his arms, grateful for the heat from his body. "Say her name again and I'll choke you," You mutter, only half-joking.
"Don't threaten me with a good time," He says teasingly.
"Shut up."
"Make me."
"Once I grow my tentacles, I will."
"Okay. Good night, candy."
"Good night, Jamie."
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3K notes · View notes
maivolpe · 1 year
Text
as long as you’re with me (you’ll be just fine)
summary: you neglect an injury to be able to see your boyfriend. he, however, sees right through your charade.
a/n: my first "full" one-shot! this is a reminder to take care of yourselves or else. i hope you enjoy ♡
・。゚: ∘◦☾◦∘。゚.
pairing: bucky barnes x reader cw: descriptions of blood, stitches, wounds, needles, bucky dog-earing a book wc: 1.5k
the lights were dimmed when you arrived home, battered and bruised. you almost sank to your knees upon entrance, the exhaustion from the day coursing through your body. you dropped your backpack just inside the door with a resounding thud. you'd deal with it later.
your suit still stuck to your skin unpleasantly, the slick feeling of blood still coating your leg. it had taken a few minutes to even realize you had been stabbed, but that was a small mercy. it was a sharp pain like you'd never felt before, and the heat of it all tortured you through the rest of the fight. you had lost the feeling, for a few fleeting seconds, thanks to adrenaline, but now it was back. and worse than before, as your stupid suit rubbed against the wound.
shower, was the plan. shower everything off, bandage it up, and pretend like nothing happened. then you would get to spend the time with bucky that you missed on the mission.
"baby?"
his voice echoed softly across the room, and you squinted before realizing that bucky was tucked under a pile of blankets on the couch. only his eyes, his nose, and his battered copy of the hobbit showed. you laughed breathily, slowly making your way across the room to him. "hey, lover."
he dog-eared his page, causing you to wince internally, and struggled out of the blankets he had trapped himself in. his eyes flitted over your face, taking in your features. the small crease in your forehead, the bags under your eyes. the little tilt to your head, because... you were favoring one leg over the other. busted.
"where are you hurt?" he asked, though he already knew.
you groaned, defeated, and displayed your left leg in front of him. though your suit was still on, there was a sickening stain of blood collecting where you'd quickly wrapped it up and tied it off before leaving the compound.
"it's really not a big deal, doesn't hurt that badly. don't worry about me!"
bucky cocked an eyebrow at you, and reached for your leg. he gently bent your shin backwards, eliciting a hiss of pain from your lips.
"sure, princess. not that bad. sit down."
he headed off to the bathroom to fetch the kit, and you let yourself slowly sink onto the couch.
"if it was bad they wouldn't have let you leave," he called from the other room. "knife wound?"
"yeah," you answered. "i kind of... hid it? but i think they knew you were gonna patch me up regardless."
bucky walked back into the room, his bare feet grazing the carpet. "i'm nothing to you but a nurse."
you laughed and leaned forwards, trapping his lips in a soft kiss. it tasted like heaven after a long day of granola bars and the metallic tang of your own blood. but then again, it always tasted like heaven.
"hottest nurse i ever met."
he chuckled, tying his hair up to keep it out of his eyes and squatting down to see your thigh in the dim lighting. "don't tell sharon that."
he slowly untied the cloth you'd had tied just above your knee, muttering "crude" before letting it fall to the floor. while it wasn't completely soaked through with blood, you still looked away from it, instead watching bucky's jaw set as he pulled out a pair of scissors.
"'m just gonna cut your suit here," he assured. "you've got like fifty of 'em anyways."
you nodded your assent, laying back on the cushions as you heard the tear of fabric. he hissed upon seeing the wound, a three- or four-inch gash just above your knee. it was probably three-quarters of an inch deep, he figured. dried crimson covered every available inch of skin. if it had happened to himself, he wouldn't have cared. he had plenty of scars, and the serum would help to heal it fast enough that it didn't matter.
but to his girl?
he was filled with a rage he hadn't felt since the forties, when steve would show up bloodied and bruised, acting as unaffected as you were right now. he'd been against you going on missions in the first place - while he knew you were capable, he couldn't protect you in the field. he wanted, needed to protect you. but he knew the best way to do that would be to help now, to clean you up, and so he did.
"how're you feeling, pretty girl?" he asked, moving to the faucet in the kitchen. he ran the water over a clean cloth, never taking his eyes off of the couch where you lay.
you pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes, sighing. "'m a little dizzy. stitches?"
"mm-hmm."
"ugh."
you closed your eyes - just for a minute - and it felt like the couch would swallow you up, or you would sink right through the cushions. it was quiet, only the ticking of the clock and the hum of the tacky lamp that bucky loved to read by filling the air. they soon faded, and you didn't question why. there was silence for a moment, and the burning in your leg subsided until it was just a dull ache.
your eyes flickered open in surprise at a cool pressure on your lips, parting them just a bit when you realized bucky was holding a glass to your mouth. it felt cool and wonderful trickling down your throat, and before you knew it, the cup was empty and he was pulling it away. he made up for it with the loving look he gave you, though it was tinged with a bit of sadness. it could've just been the shadows, the way the light fell on him, but you knew better.
"hang in there for me, doll," he murmured, sitting back down and pressing the wet cloth to your skin. the sting of the fabric against the gash was more than enough to bring you back down to earth. you groaned, and bucky nodded in sympathy.
"almost done."
he was finished in no time, though it felt like forever, and soon wielded the needle and nylon that you so dreaded.
“here, baby, i got you.” he tucked the end of one of his blankets into your mouth, letting you bite down on it. "ready?"
you nodded, giving him a weak thumbs up. ready as you'd ever be, you supposed.
he went in as quickly as he could, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth as he slammed out stitch after stitch. you gritted your teeth, your breath hitching. it stung so badly. but it was done as fast as it had begun, and the needle clattered to the ground.
bucky pulled himself onto the couch next to you, his hands moving a million miles a minute. he gently took the fabric from your teeth, laying the blanket softly over your legs, hiding the stitches from view. you held your trembling hands out to him, and they were swallowed up in an instant, deft fingers tracing your veins.
“good job, darling, that was amazing,” he murmured, pressing a tentative kiss to your mouth. your lip quivered and he pulled away quickly, cautious eyes searching for any kind of pain he might’ve caused.
“hey, what’s wrong?”
tears gathered at your waterline, and you sniffled before choking out, “you treat me so well.”
he smiled, but knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. “you’ve been stabbed. do you think i wouldn't help you?”
“no i know you'll always help, but… i don't think i deserve it. i didn’t do amazing. it hurt.”
he laughed. “pretty girl, when i had to sew myself up for the first time, i was cussin’ and screamin’ everywhere. you didn’t even make a single sound.”
"well then i shouldn't have gotten stabbed," you grumbled.
he pulled you into his arms. “you got through the fight, first of all, and that's a win in my book. and on top of that, you toughed it out just to come see me, dove. which you shouldn’t have, that was stupid and reckless, but the point here is that you're strong. even stronger than me, i think."
you only hummed, moving your head to rest on his shoulder. it felt as though all of your energy had evaporated from your body, and would float away through an open window somewhere. the rumble of bucky's voice deliberately softened, proving your exhaustion did not go unnoticed.
“want me to sleep on the couch with you tonight?”
you hummed, leaning forward to kiss his neck as your way of saying yes. he chuckled again, the sweet melody of his laughter bringing a ghost of a smile to your tired face. you couldn't see his, but you knew he was grinning.
“c’n you read to me?”
bucky reached for his book, flipping to the dog-eared page. "i thought you'd never ask, dove."
"you know, one 'f these days 'm gonna get tired of hearing about dwarves."
"you won't," he said confidently. "you love me too much."
you snorted, but settled in, tucking your uninjured leg close to your body. bucky tightened his grip around you, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. he cleared his throat dramatically, coaxing another smile from your features.
“bilbo rushed along the passage, very angry, and altogether bewildered and bewuthered…”
・。゚: ∘◦☾◦∘。゚.
ko-fi ♡
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