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#bucky barnes hurt/comfort
queers-gambit · 14 hours
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Damage Done
prompt: The Winter Soldier is activated and Bucky's lover is unlucky enough to be in proximity.
pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Widow!reader
fandom masterlist: Marvel
word count: 5.4k+
note: oh, wow, Cherry wrote Bucky NOT in a Mafia AU?
warnings: takes place during Civil War, absolutely no plot - author just doesn't know how to shut the fuck up. cursing, violence, small angst, injury, blood, hurt and comfort, Winter Soldier antics, choking, abrupt ending, maybe domestic violence? it's the WS.
it's really not that bad, it's not terribly descriptive but still tread carefully if triggered by these topics.
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"Keep them together," Agent Everett Ross commanded, a little man with a raging Napoleon Complex, gesturing at you and Bucky; the latter held in mobile, restrictive captivity. "He doesn't play nice if he doesn't see her, or so it's said," his eyes rolled.
"You're making a huge mistake!" You barked, struggling in the restraints they had you wrapped in.
"No, I don't think so," he sneered, approaching you as Bucky's unit kept moving. "I think the mistake was letting you out of anyone's sight. Tell me, how long have you been in cahoots with the Winter Soldier?"
"He's not the Winter Soldier anymore, you jackass, he's a person! A real, live human being! His name's James but he prefers Bucky! He likes plums," you were yanked away, still snarling, "his favorite color is blue, likes motorcycles, he has real guilt over his past transgressions, and you've got the wrong guy!"
"Oh, right, like you're the best judge of character," Ross laughed.
"Natasha! Nat! Fucking tell him!" You pleaded, struggling in the hold of the men who kept iron clad restraint on you and were starting to drag you away. "You've got the wrong guy! Bucky didn't do this! I wouldn't lie - not to you, Natasha! Tell him!"
"That's touching, really sweet," Ross mocked, rolling his eyes as you were finally overpowered and lead away.
"Hang on a second," Nat muttered, sharing a look with Tony. "Was her DNA or facial recognition anywhere at the UN? Anywhere near where the bomb was set off?"
"What's that matter - "
"Since they met, they've not parted ways," Nat spelled out. "He won't go anywhere without her - you, yourself, are keeping them together for interrogation - "
"It's just easier," Ross scoffed.
"No, you know..." She blinked in confusion, "You know, Bucky won't talk unless she's there - you know he'll be ten times as difficult if she's not in the room."
"So?"
"So, in the past two years, have you heard about him without her? Have you seen her without him?"
"Nobody's seen or heard from either of them," Ross shook his head.
"Exactly," she nodded, lungs tightening with nerves. "If you can't find evidence of her being in Vienna... Bucky might not be your guy... Besides, they're both trained to avoid cameras - "
"Mistakes are made," Ross waved off.
"Not by two highly trained assassins like them," she snapped. "Check the files, go back - look! Actually look, run her scans through facial recognition - if you don't find her, it wasn't Bucky."
"You're so sure?" Tony asked skeptically.
"I know her," Natasha nodded, "better than anyone. She's as good as my sister, she's as good as blood. I know her. I know she wouldn't run this risk - "
"Then you also know she wouldn't get caught," Ross laughed.
"Neither would Bucky."
The silence stretched, but Ross was stubborn; sneering at the Avengers and taking his leave with his own plan of action in mind. He left Tony and Natasha to deal with Sam and Steve as he went to observe the interrogation. When he got before the monitors, he watched as it took four different men to restrain you enough to hoist your locks up the wall until they were clicked in place by ultra-strength magnets.
You jostled, feeling the full extent of your containment, grunting when the pipe you were connected to shocked your entire system into submission. Everett Ross smirked at your pain; watching your tongue swipe over your teeth, arms high above your head, readjusting your weight in your feet, but otherwise, not moving.
Ross heard Bucky ask quietly, his eyes watching you carefully from inside the reinforced cell, "You okay, doll?"
"Looks like they learned from last time," you grit, the cuffs around your wrists electrified; charring your skin, making you grimace slightly in a veiled attempt to hide your pain from your lover.
"Don't fight, you'll make it worse," he advised softly, frowning, eyes glassy from restrained emotion.
"They could've at least put me in a bit more comfortable position," you sneered, glaring up at one of the cameras, shaking your head as if in disappointment.
"I don't think they want to play nice, sweetheart."
"Yeah, could've guessed that from when they arrested us," you shook your head, puckering your lips to gather the blood in your mouth; spitting it to the floor. "You good, baby?" You asked as the men who restrained you moved to plug in the power cell caging Bucky.
He nodded silently at you, bowing his head and letting his long locks curtain his face. You frowned, shifting again as you blindly felt your cuffs and designed a way to get free; watching the men stoically as they exited the room to make way for the psychologist. Your jaw clenched, the air smelling foul - alerting you that something wasn't quite right.
"Hello, Mr. Barnes," the accented man greeted casually, standing at a single table in front of Bucky, you off to the side; chains rattling as your defenses flared. The psychologist smirked and greeted you, too, assuring your real identity was known - something that Natasha released to the world about two years ago when HYDRA sent Bucky after Cap in DC. You didn't fault her, in fact, you respected her move, and after getting out of the blown-to-shit base, you had run into the Winter Soldier... Beginning your epic love story, both of you on the run from authorities and higher powers.
You smuggled Bucky out of the country, using fake aliases that had yet to see the light of day and therefor, wasn't released in the files Nat published during her takedown of the compromised S.H.I.E.L.D. agency. He was appreciative, pondering how he was meant to go forward in a world he didn't know; so, you agreed to stick around for a bit to help settle him, and that bit turned into a couple of years - the two of you inseparable.
There was an incident in London that almost exposed you, but instead, it just shined a light on your new partnership. Captain American, Nat, Sam, shit - even Tony Stark himself was unable to catch up; your trail going cold, Nat knowing your Widow training was running the show and keeping you safe. Granted, she probably could've unraveled the web you had weaved - but the truth was, she didn't want to. So, she kept quiet. Leading you all here...
"I've been sent by the United Nations to evaluate you both," the man you'd come to know as Helmut Zemo continued; playing his part very well, but not well enough to convince you of his innocence. Something about the man rubbed you the wrong way. "Do you mind if I sit?" He asked politely, feigning like you two had a choice. When he did, Zemo continued, "Your first name is James?"
He noted the way Bucky and you shared a look, both remaining silent. Zemo tried to assure, "I'm not here to judge you - either of you. I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?" Continued silence, your head subtly shaking - an act only Bucky clocked. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James."
"My name is Bucky," he croaked, your sigh echoing around the room.
"Hm," Zemo nodded, "I take it, she doesn't want you to talk?"
"She wants me safe," Bucky answered stiffly.
"That is admirable," the psychologist offered kindly, "a great display of love, is it not?"
"Jesus Christ," you shook your head, offering a glare, "you went through all that schooling to ask stupid fucking questions? Might wanna get your money back."
Zemo chuckled after humming, "I am merely trying to establish the connection you two share. I hear it is rare to find one without the other, that you two have become, uh, joined at the hip?"
"I protect her," Bucky offered, sharing a long look with you, "and she protects me."
"An equal partnership, would you say?"
"Yes."
"Buck," you warned, wrists twisting to hold the cuffs; being zapped, making your jaw clench and the veins in your neck to bulge.
"It's all right," his voice sounded like it was being put through a grater. "We're caught, doll, it's all right."
You huffed, eyeing Zemo as his eyes flickered between you two. He nodded, making a note in his little book, "I was warned that you would be unwilling to cooperate without her present. Why is that?"
"She keeps me safe."
Zemo hummed, "So you've said, and yet... Here you both are..." You were ready to lash out, but the doctor changed course, "Tell me, Bucky. You've seen a great deal, haven't you?"
"I don't wanna talk about it." Your restraints zapped you again when you jolted forward as if to physically silence Zemo, Bucky's head snapping over and his eyes drooping in sympathy. "Told you not to move, it'll only get worse," he told you softly.
"He's asking questions that will get him killed," you snarled, gritting your teeth as the electric currents seized most of your energy. But it was worth it, finding a little weak spot and letting your mind devise a specific plan.
"You fear," Zemo continued, "that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. I feel it is safe to assume, uh, your lady is privy to your past experiences? Perhaps, you two have shared a couple?"
"Just leave her out of this," Bucky pleaded.
"Don't worry," he assured you both, tapping something on his tablet before looking back at Bucky with a sick recognition. "We only have to talk about one. One mission... That I know you," he nodded at you, "were not present for."
"Kinda game you playin', Doc?" You sneered. "Think anything he says will change my opinion about him?"
"No, no, I know your relationship is too strong for that," Zemo smiled. "So, it's not so much what he will say... But what he will do..."
"The fuck does that - "
But then, the lights went out; darkening the room save for the lights individual to Bucky's holding cell. You perked up, the electric currents halting as the cuffs died with the power and gave you an opportunity to begin working on your escape. As red panic lights flickered, Bucky questioned, "What the hell is this?"
"Why don't we discuss your home?" Zemo offered. "Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no," he reached into his satchel, revealing a red notebook the world thought long lost... Buried in snow... Forgotten in time. "I mean, your real home," Zemo removed his glasses as you frantically started working.
"No, no, no, no, no, hey, hey, hey, don't - fuck!" You grit, trying harder to free yourself. "Bucky - Bucky, don't listen - ah, Goddamnit!"
The man you now understood to be a fake psychologist stood with a little flashlight, opening the red notebook, and began repeating words in Russian that would activate the decommissioned Winter Soldier. Bucky had told you all about these words, begging you to provide a shield against them should they ever be uttered again; but you had prior knowledge, the Winter Soldier someone you had been debriefed on during your time with other secret agencies.
"Longing."
"No," Bucky whispered, head tilting back in panic as he felt his stomach curl in a familiar pattern.
"Bucky - don't fucking listen, please!" You begged, still working to free yourself.
"Rusted."
"Stop," Bucky pleaded, sounding in pain.
"Don't do this!" You pleaded to Zemo. "You're fucking hurting him, please, stop!"
"Seventeen."
"Stop!" Bucky barked, his vibranium hand clenching in anger and pain; the entire arm whirring from the flex of his muscle. He began to pant, a deep growl emitting above your panicked whimpers.
"Daybreak!"
"You have no idea what you're doing!" You raged, Bucky screaming in pain as his mind was forcibly sunk back into dark recesses of his past. "Don't - Bucky, baby, listen to me - don't fucking listen to him, please, please, baby, don't do this!"
He screamed, breaking free of the iron restraints that kept him seated in the reinforced, mobile cell. "Furnace!" Zemo continued, ignoring the pain and panic you and Bucky were both thrown into.
"Fucking stop, please! You don't understand!" You begged, freeing one hand and working in vain to unlatch the other. Bucky was out of his seat, anger coursing like a palpable rain over you all - him screaming as his metal arm worked to pound into the strengthened glass surrounding him.
"Nine!"
"Bucky, please, baby, please, don't do this!" You tried a new tactic, hoping you were enough to cut through the brainwashing - but how silly to imagine. Decades of trauma was washing over Bucky again and your little words couldn't cut through the barricades of his mind.
"Benign!"
"You stupid fucking little man!"
Zemo rounded around the cell, Bucky still pounding away at the glass. "Homecoming! One!"
"DON'T!"
"Freight car!"
You whimpered in fear when Bucky punched the entire door off the hinges, freeing him at last; but the words were spoken, the damage done. He crouched on the floor, Zemo pausing to take in the sight, slowly approaching Bucky as he stood upright; the jangling of your chains louder and more frantic as you tried to free your last wrist.
"Jesus Christ," you whispered, trying to divide focus between the two tasks of freeing yourself and protecting Bucky - but being terribly unsuccessful as you watched Zemo stand in front of your dead-eyed boyfriend.
What a ridiculous, mundane label to assign someone like Bucky.
In Russian, Zemo questioned, "Soldier?"
And in Russian, the man you loved answered, "Ready to comply."
Zemo demanded in English, "Mission report. December 16, 1991."
You whimpered in fear, listening to Bucky give the report that would haunt you for years to come. Just as he finished, you managed to get out of the cuffs, but the clanging of your freed restraints caught Zemo's attention - who smirked with abundant cruelty. "Don't," you warned, backing out of the room just as officers began to flood it.
It was a brutal fight, trying to stave off Bucky once in his Winter Soldier mindset. You grunted as he engaged you, men dead at your feet - the lucky ones just knocked out. You grit your teeth, trying to defend yourself as Bucky operated mechanically; doing what you could to protect yourself, but it wasn't enough.
Blows landed, punching and kicking one another in an equal match of strength and stamina.
"Seize her," Zemo demanded, and in the next moment, Bucky had you by the neck; an effort that made you wheeze and claw at his bionic hand.
"Bucky," you begged. "Baby - baby - it's me, it's me, please, don't, it's me! Don't do this, baby, please, come back to me. Come back!" You struggled in his grip, trying to pry his hand open, "Baby, please, please, come back to me," spit drooled from your lips as he squeezed tighter. "This isn't you!" You managed to squeeze out, tears surfacing. "Not anymore, don't let them win!"
"Shut her up, Solider," Zemo commanded in Russian, your eyes widening and trying to beg Bucky again before he was sending you into a wall. He marched up to you, grabbing your hair, and surging his balled up metal fist directly into the bridge of your nose, breaking it, head jolting backwards, and effectively knocking you out.
When you came back into consciousness, it was to Steve's worried face; his hands caressing your cheeks and begging, "You all right?"
"Fucking hell," you winced, reaching up to prod the tender spot on your head; revealing blood.
"Got your ass kicked, huh?" He frowned.
"Watch your language, Cap," you smirked, wincing when your face throbbed. "Shit, how bad is it?"
He looked you over, offering, "Definitely a broken nose."
"Goddamnit - where is he? Where's Bucky?"
"Help me," a voice pleaded from the next room, Zemo playing his part by splaying out on the floor like bait.
"Don't trust him, something ain't right about him, Steve," you whispered, waving him on as you sluggishly hoisted yourself up the wall to lean against it. "Kept asking about Siberia, asking about shit nobody should actually know."
"Get yourself safe," Steve told you swiftly, nodding at Sam; who was checking on the status of the other bodies around you.
"Just find him, Steve, he's lost in his own mind - a threat to himself," you panted, slowly standing.
"I know - "
"You don't know," you shook your head, wiping a trickle of blood from your temple, "but you're gonna have to do more than understand him right now, Steve."
"I've got this," he promised, watching you nod and limp away. You had just missed the action, Bucky overpowering both Sam and Steve; getting to a safety landing and running into Natasha, Tony, and Agent Sharon Carter.
"We'll hash our bullshit out later," you panted, "but for now - "
You heard a commotion behind you, flinching out of sight when Bucky made himself known and began taking down rogue agents unlucky enough to stand before the Winter Soldier.
"He have an off switch?" Nat asked.
"Not that I've found," you frowned. "Split up."
Tony tried to engage Bucky first, using a mobile Iron Man device he wore on his wrist that used sonics to disorient Bucky. It only worked to a small extent, the two exchanging a few blows, Bucky firing a bullet at Tony's face at pointblank range that was saved by his technologically advanced glasses. Bucky got the upper hand, sending Tony flying back, letting Sharon and Nat attack.
He disposed of them both easily, stumbling when you caught him off guard and wrapped your legs around him. Normally, you'd do anything to have your legs around him - but this wasn't one of those times. You exchanged several punches, blocking one another, going for disarming hits but being of equal challenge; leaving small cuts and blooming bruises on each other as if to prove the engagement. Natasha rejoined the fight, two Widows showing Bucky up on a few instances, but he was heaving her across the room as you swung onto his shoulders in an impressive acrobatic move.
You heaved your fists down in a repeated fashion on the top of his head, Bucky charging at one of the cafe tables; slamming you down and choking you again with his metal hand. Both your hands held his, legs up around his neck to try to keep him at a distance for relief on your windpipe.
Through a strangled breath, you managed, "You could at least recognize me!"
"Who said I don't?" He growled, reaching out to snap a piece of wood from a chair.
You tried to regain normal breath, wheezing, "This isn't you, baby, you are not this person anymore - you're not a psychotic, robot killer! You're a man - please!"
"You don't know a damn thing about me," he seethed.
"I know everything about you," you strangled, "and I know this isn't you. Come back to me, baby, please! Y-You can't let the demons win, Buck, please - fucking listen to me!" But he only raised the wooden shaft above his head. "BUCKY, DON'T!"
"Who the hell is Bucky?"
You cried out shrilly when he jabbed the sharp wood into your shoulder, staking you to the table just as King T'Challa rushed onto the scene and stole your brainwashed boyfriend's attention. You hissed in pain, trying to yank the wood free but being unsuccessful; resulting in blood to splatter onto the tiled floor.
Hearing someone pant your name, you caught a glimpse of red and knew it was Nat, her face worried over yours a moment later. "Where's Bucky?" You coughed and winced in pain.
"Goin' up by the looks of it," she informed, "now hang on, this is gonna hurt. Want a belt to bite?"
"No, just do it, get it done, please," you panted, bracing yourself, and suddenly, without warning, your companion heaved the piercing shaft free from your flesh. Naturally, you cried out, groaning and clenching your jaw so tight, it nearly crushed your teeth into dust.
"Hey, you seen..." Sam arrived on scene, taking in your injury, "Holy shit, you good?"
"Yeah," you grunted, stumbling to your feet as blood bloomed into a bigger, brighter blemish on your tactical shirt. "We gotta go, Sam, we should get outta here."
"Hang on," Nat paused you two, your opposite hand holding your wound; her hands occupied by a smart device, "looks like Bucky tried to highjack a helicopter. Steve stopped him, but it resulted in them all crashing in the river."
"Shit," Sam breathed. "We gotta go find them."
"We need to get outta here, you know, away from the cops and agents," your head shook. "Get somewhere safe, away from this catastrophe. We'll regroup with Steve."
"Go," Nat permitted, "I won't say a word."
"You're one of a kind, Nat," you praised, pecking her cheek. "Let's go, Sam. And grab that First Aid kit," you pointed to the wall where the white box was mounted. He agreed and you lead the way out of the facility.
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Bucky groaned as he woke up, head lulling back before realizing he couldn't move his metal arm; finding it clamped in industrial weights. Sam called you both to attention, but while Steve jogged over, you remained in your place out of sheer distress.
You only vaguely listened to the conversation, hands trembling as your shoulder was bandaged to prevent further injury or infection. You did what you could to patch up any injury, and when you heard your name, you dialed in; Bucky asking, "Where is she? Is she okay?"
"You don't remember?" Sam sneered.
"No..."
"You stabbed her," the Falcon growled.
"What? N-No, I-I-I couldn't've - I wouldn't!"
"You did," Steve confirmed, pity coloring his words. "Punched her out pretty well, choked her, too. Broke her nose..."
"Please - Steve, please, tell me I didn't."
"I'm sorry, Buck."
"That why she's not here? She's in a hospital?"
"Actually, no," Sam trailed, "she's just in the other room."
"She didn't want to come here?"
Steve sighed as Sam informed, "Don't think she wants to see you right now, man."
"I didn't mean to hurt her."
"We know," Steve swiftly promised, nodding his head. "She knows it, too, you just have to give her some time."
Bucky looked utterly defeated, murmuring, "I scared her. Oh, my God, I scared her..."
"Gotta agree with you there."
"Sam," Steve reprimanded. "Look, Buck, she'll come around."
You waited until the two men left Bucky alone to regroup and stratify a new course of action. Slowly and almost sheepishly, you entered where Bucky was being kept, steps silent but he heard you anyways. His blue eyes flashed in concern as he met your gaze, mouth opening and closing as if words failed him.
"Doll," he finally breathed, "a-are you all right?"
"I'm okay."
"Don't bullshit me, how hard did I hit you? Steve said I broke your nose, I-I'm so sorry, doll, please believe me. What'd I do to your shoulder? Is that where I stabbed you?"
"Buck," you sighed, slowly squatting in front of him, "I need you to take a breath and know that I understand you were not in your right state of mind. You were forcibly triggered and sent back into that way of thinking, I know it wasn't you."
"I still hurt you, I still did it."
"Did you, though?" Your head cocked, eyes narrowing slightly, "Because I know my Bucky wouldn't hurt me, would never dare lay a hand on me - but the Winter Solider is a different story. You didn't do this, Buck, you weren't you."
"I can smell the fear on you."
"Well, yeah, it fuckin' scared me. I tried to stop that fake doctor, I tried to help, tried to save you and keep your safe. I'm sorry I was too slow, that I failed."
"You didn't fail anything, sweetheart... I-I failed you, I broke my promise to never hurt you."
"No, you didn't. The Winter Solider did all that, not my Bucky."
He frowned, repeating to ask softly, "Your Bucky?"
"My Bucky - the kind, charismatic, impossibly stubborn, kind hearted man I've loved the past couple of years who always gives me the crispiest fries, who has nightmares, who loves me unconditionally despite what I, too, have done in my past. And you know what I was doing out there while Sam and Steve talked to you?"
"What's that, doll?"
"Understanding that loving someone means loving their flaws, accepting them exactly as they are. So, while, yes, the Winter Solider scares the fuck outta me, he's still part of you and I can't authentically love you if I reject the Soldier."
His head shook "Your kindness is wasted on me."
"I think you should let me decide what's a waste and what's not when it comes to my own energy and emotion."
"I'm just gonna end up hurting you again. You're better off without me, baby, you and I both know you're better off keeping your distance. You should get out now while you still can."
"Not gonna happen. 'Cause you know what else I realized?" You reached up to caress his cheek, "I trust you beyond reasonable doubt, I trust you even if I'm afraid of the Winter Solider. I should've been faster, I should've helped you more, but I was powerless against that red notebook."
"You and I, both..."
You pet the cheek you were holding. "Buck, I know it was scary, I know how it must've felt being forced back into that mindset, but I want you to know that I'm in this for the long haul - you're not gonna scare me off. Because I love you, Bucky, and every single part of you - whether choking me out or not. Whether I earn a broken nose or not."
"I'm so sorry. I-I can't believe I did that, I'm so sorry, I hate that I hurt you. I'm so sorry, baby, I can't - I can't even put it in words how much I regret putting you in that position."
You smirked, "See? The Winter Soldier has no remorse, but my Bucky does." You gingerly reached out to curl his hair behind his ear. "My Bucky apologizes and takes accountability. There's no reason to not love that man - especially when he deserves it so much. Hey? Hear me? You deserve to be loved, too, Buck."
"And you deserve a man who doesn't run the risk of being turned into a psycho killing machine over a few measly words."
"I deserve to love my best friend, so let me do that. Say whatever you want, try to push me away - but I'm like a boomerang, baby, I'll just come right back."
"What kinda man puts his best girl in that kinda position? Who hurts the most important person in his life?"
"A man who endured decades of abuse," you laid your hands on either of his thighs, "a man who wasn't allowed control of his own mind. I can't - no, no, I won't fault you for that, Buck. Today wasn't your fault and I'll remind you of that as often as it takes. Don't you dare feel guilty because you didn't do this to me, okay? You didn't put me in any position - that fake fucking doctor did this, Agent Ross did this, special ops put us here. You, my sweet boy, didn't do anything to be at fault. You were trapped, but look at you now - freed, level headed, talking to me."
His eyes gleamed with a sheen of emotion, staring at the bloodied bandage wrapping your shoulder wound before his eyes danced over the bruising and other aftermath of your injuries. "I could've killed you," he muttered, tears filling his eyes.
"But you didn't - and surprisingly, neither did the Winter Soldier. Maybe there was a part of you still alive, wanting to refuse orders and not actually hurt me."
"Perhaps," he frowned. "I'm still so sorry, doll, I hate that I did this to you. It never should've happened."
Your head nodded, "I know, baby, and listen - I forgive you. Yeah? Hear me? I forgive you, this is in the past."
"Are you sure about me? You sure you wanna do this? Knowing I could flip a switch and hurt you - maybe even worse than today?"
"I'm sure about you, Buck," you agreed. "I don't wanna be without you, so, sign me up for whatever's to come."
"You might regret that."
"The only thing I could ever regret is abandoning you. I don't want to do this without you - I love our life together. In any world, in any lifetime, I'd still choose you. There's nothing that would make me regret you - regret being with you."
"You sure? I don't want to make you do anything out of your comfort."
"I love you, Bucky, yes, I'm sure. No matter what damage you think you might've caused, whatever damage has been done, I promise, that's not the truth. There's nothing about you that I could regret."
"Well, all that's left now is to get to Siberia, stop the other Winter Soldiers."
"And figure out a way to free your mind once and for all... It's what you deserve," you told him softly, rocking to your knees to meet his forehead with yours and caressing his cheek again. When you heard approaching footsteps, you sighed and pulled away from him to stand and turn, spying Sam and Steve. "C'mon, Cap, get him outta this. He's not gonna attack anyone," you requested, gesturing where your boyfriend was trapped.
"You sure?" Sam asked stiffly. "He did a real number on you alone. Not to mention all the other agents and cops he took out back there."
"He's good," you snapped, perking your brows at Steve, "and you two would do well not to throw what happened in his face, it wasn't his fault. So c'mon, free him, he's not a wild animal."
Steve agreed and lifted the machinery from Bucky's prosthetic, him instantly snatching it back and massaging where the joint met metal. Bucky stood with a set stare at Sam and Steve, as if anticipating them to lunge at him. His throat constricted, swelled with emotion when you stepped in front of him - posing barrier between the two Avengers and himself.
"You still got that phone on you?" Steve asked you softly.
"I do."
"Is it still unregistered?"
"You know it is. Who're we calling?"
"Reinforcements. We're gonna need help now that the Avengers will be looking for us. We gotta get to Siberia."
"Here," you agreed, unlocking the device and handing it over. "Who's first on your list?"
"Any Avenger who didn't sign the Sokovia Accords."
When he walked away with Sam again, you turned to face your lover directly; staring into swirling storms of baby blues. "You still with me?" You asked softly, reaching up to caress his hair again to push it behind his ear.
"Always. Got my six?"
"You know I do, baby," you smirked, stepping into his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. "We'll figure this out, together."
"Together," he agreed, sighing deeply and returning your embrace tightly. His flesh hand rose to hold the back of your head, bringing his lips down to lay a chaste kiss on the top of your head. His voice rattled quietly, "Thank you..."
"Hmm? For what, handsome?"
"Believing in me. It's nice to think we can end this torment."
You smiled up at him, "You deserve freedom, Bucky, and to live without this haunting fear."
"I don't know about 'deserving' it, sweetheart. Done a lot of things that would argue against that."
"Maybe against the Winter Soldier, but Bucky deserves the world. Deserves kindness, accommodation, love and understanding. Now," you smirked and sniffled, giving his waist another squeeze before releasing and pulling back, "get your head outta this pit and focus, we've got a long day ahead of us."
He agreed, letting you take his hand and lace fleshy fingers together in a tether. Sam's face remained stoic and passive, but when Steve saw you two, he couldn't help but smile. Two years he hunted for Bucky and just today, he's learned his best friend's been shacked up with you - a warmth blooming in his chest over the idea of you two finding one another and loving each other.
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requesting rules and masterlist
Marvel masterlist
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yourmidnightlover · 21 days
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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. 
1K notes · View notes
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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maivolpe · 1 year
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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 ♡
2K notes · View notes
whorefordean · 10 months
Note
Ooo prompt 13 on hurt comfort for winter solider bucky/reader. Pls pls I'd die
always safe
bucky barnes x reader
warnings: none i think
wc: 760
prompt: “i won’t let anybody hurt you ever again.”
——————————————
Your eyes remained closed as you stretched out to reach for Bucky. You whined when your hand never met his warm body. You peaked an eye open, desperately searching for your boyfriend. You frowned as your eyes adjusted to the dark room. Bucky’s side of the bed was empty.
You slowly sat up, dropping your feet onto the floor. You hissed at the cold hardwood floor against your bare feet. You stumbled through the dark room, making your way through your apartment.
You sighed when you entered the living room. There on the cold floor, laid your sweet Bucky. You could see his stoic expression held tight even as he slept. You watched as his body writhed against the floor, beads of sweat running down his face.
“Oh, Buck,” you whispered softly, sadness washing over you as you watched your love suffer. You crept towards Bucky, careful not to alarm him. When you reached him, you crouched down to gently rub his hair.
“Sweetheart,” you called out to him. Bucky’s body relaxed for a moment before tensing up again. He slowly pried his eyes open, heaving in deep breaths. Bucky tried to control his panic, but it was no use. He had woken up completely disoriented, unaware of where he was or how he ended up here.
“You’re okay, Bucky. You’re safe,” You cooed softly. You continued to run your fingers through his soft hair. Once he’s better aware of his surroundings, you caress his face.
“Are you with me, Buck?” You whispered to him softly. Bucky inhaled a sharp breath. His eyes searched yours for comfort. He found it rather quickly and placed his hand on top of yours resting on his face. He leaned into your touch and let out a shaky breath.
You moved to sit beside Bucky, but he quickly pulled you on top of him. You were straddling his waist now. His eyes were closed, and his free hand moved to rest on your hips. It was a welcomed grasp, his hands sending a warmth through you. His eyes were closed now as he allowed himself to fully relax into you. He rested his head against your chest, listening to the soft thump of your heart.
After a few minutes, Bucky finally responded.
“I’m with you,” he replied faintly, squeezing your hips slightly to ground himself.
“Where did you go?” You asked him, referring to the obvious nightmare he just suffered through.
“Hydra. Again,” he replied sadly. You could barely make out the small tears forming in his eyes. You wiped away the only one that fell.
“You’re here, love. They’ll never have you again,” You replied calmly. It angered you how much pain Bucky seemed to always be in. Even years after the fact, Hydra still had its claws buried too deep into your sweet Bucky.
“What if he’s still here?” Bucky whispered into your chest. Your chest burned at his question. The Winter Soldier, in Bucky’s mind, was always lurking. He was always waiting for the perfect moment to strike, leaving Bucky on edge, waiting for him to ruin his life all over again.
“Sweetheart, he’s gone. I won’t let anybody hurt you ever again. Not the Winter Soldier and not Hydra. You’re safe now, Bucky. Always.” You promised. You’d do whatever it takes to keep him safe, even if it meant protecting him from his own mind.
Bucky nuzzled his face deeper into your chest, inhaling your scent. He’d never tell you, in fear of looking like a creep, but he loved the way you smelled. You smelled like home. You’d always be that for him. His home. His comfort. His peace.
Bucky slowly stood up, taking you with him. He carried you back into your bedroom, leaving his thin blanket on the living room floor. He placed you softly onto the bed, placing a small kiss onto your forehead, then your cheek, then finally your mouth. He gave you a few short pecks, then held his lips to your. You kissed him back slowly.
“I love you, Doll,” Bucky whispered, placing a final kiss to your lips before laying down beside you.
“I’m always gonna love you, Buck,” You whispered back, pushing your body closer to his. His hands were laced into your hair, gently twisting and tugging on the soft strands.You wrapped your arm around his waist. Bucky quickly fell asleep, his breathing finally steady. Your head rested softly against his chest. The rise and fall lulled you into sweet dreams of you and Bucky. Always safe. Always together.
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valleyfae · 1 year
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𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧
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𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 ➛ Guys My Age AU: Masterlist
Paring: divorced!neighbor!Bucky Barnes x reader
Warnings: soft father figure Bucky, age gap (reader’s in uni and Bucky’s in his 40s), hurt/comfort, heavy topics (indications of an abusive parent), smut 18+ ONLY MDNI, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (male receiving), lots of praise, dirty talk, and teasing. Bold italicized text is from the reader’s journal or past!!
Synopsis: You can't seem to keep your plans straight or your hands off of each other.
Word Count: 3.5k words
Authors Note: I have finally decided to update this fic, and I am so sorry it took so long. This part was supposed to be double the length, but I split it in half to post something now until I am happy with the second part. Enjoy!!
𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝
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𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✴︎ 𝐒. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✴︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
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You’ve been awake for hours.
The bright rays of sunlight sneak through the narrow opening of the cream curtains that lightly sway in the summer breeze. The ashamed feeling of disgust still sunken deep into your heavy chest. Brain fuzzy, limbs weak, stomach cramping, nausea taking over your body as you groan. 
You tiredly stretch; the feeling of your cotton sheets is the only comfort you’ve gotten since Bucky held you in his safe arms. The sunken bags under your eyes become more apparent every day you go without him. 
Falling back into your drowsy state, chilling goosebumps creep down your spine. Yet, no matter the temperature, all you can feel is the isolation and the guilt you somehow manage to carry, blaming yourself for the actions others make. 
A sudden buzz from your phone instantly snaps you out of your hopeless mood. Too lethargic to check your messages, you ignore the notifications. A second buzz vibrates against your wooden bedside table. Tiredly you lift your hand out from under the covers. You squint your eyes as the bright screen inflicts your tired vision.
Dad - 9:27 am
About to leave for my business trip
Dad - 9:29 am 
Your keys are in the kitchen
His texts give a clear indication of what will be happening.
What always happens. 
You can’t deny the sick feeling that stirs your stomach from normalizing his apathetic customs. Dropping your phone onto your burdensome chest, you have zero reaction to the thump of the heavy glass screen on your exposed skin. 
You huff out, grief crawling under your skin. As you pull your covers over your face, you hear yet another buzz, your phone buzzing on your skin. "Shut up," you irately mumble into your soft duvet.
Carelessly, you sit up, sick of seeing your father's name. You quickly glance at the message, not bothering to see what it says, immediately throwing your phone back onto the sheets. 
Freezing your movements, you furrow your brows in confusion. 
You sit fully up for the first time this morning. Leaning against your headboard, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to collect yourself from the lingering worries built up through your restless night. Nervous excitement washes the sullen expressions off your face. 
Your heart beats at a pathetically fast rate from simply seeing a notification.
Butterflies swarm your stomach, filling your throat with apprehensive nausea. Oh my god, just look at the fucking message. You take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet fragrance of the candle that lingers around your room; building up the courage, you open Bucky’s text.
Bucky - 9:31 am
Good morning, sweetheart! I hope you got a good night's sleep and got some rest. If you want to come over, I’ll be at my house. I just need to finish a little work but come whenever you want. There is a key behind the plant pot :)
Overwhelmed, you feel a sense of consolation as you read Bucky’s text repeatedly. You drag your hands down your face, shaking off your last bit of exhaustion.
It’s a little pathetically how a straightforward text Bucky probably wrote without thinking could bring you this much joy.
Stretching your sore muscles, you take your time to get out of bed – following the bright shine through the curtains, you pull them open to the sound of your father’s car dragging against the gravel. You turn your back to the window, take a deep breath, and push away your negative thoughts. 
You spend the next thirty minutes getting ready, taking your time to feel the hot water run down your back. You gently rub the sweet vanilla scent across your skin, wincing as your fingers skim over your bruises and sore muscles. 
Overcome by the debilitating urge to rush next door, you hastily gather your journal and headphones, knowing Bucky will be busy for a bit – you don’t care how long it takes him. 
You slip into a pair of shorts, the distressed denim skimming your legs, and the cotton of your old band-tee loosely hangs from your shoulders.
The warm breeze hits your skin as your shadow follows your restless steps until you reach the familiar sight of Bucky’s front door. 
You follow his expected thoughtful notes, involuntarily smiling as you pick up the cold key from the shade behind the potted plant, dragging the tip of your finger against the sharp ridges of the metal and taking a breath before gathering your overly excited body.
Carefully opening the heavy door, you step inside. The perfect type of silence and captivating scent flood your senses. Just being in Bucky’s house felt safe. The calm, sleek modern features hold a refreshing atmosphere that radiates the most precious feeling. 
As you step out of your untied Converse, the silence breaks. A faint purr draws you to the couch, and your giddiness heightens.
“Hello, pretty,” you coo, sitting beside the snow-white feline. “Don’t you look comfy?” Then, with one hand tenderly stroking Alpine, you pull your pen and journal out of your canvas bag.
Curled beside you, Alpine’s eyes flutter shut. “You have the most beautiful eyes, just like your dad.” She purrs in response closing the slight gap. “The most beautiful blue eyes.”
Your soft smile melts into a somber gulp as you take out your journal–leafing through your messy notebook and skimming over your prior writing. Lump forming in your throat, you hinder your light flipping of the pages and blankly stare at your words from the previous nights. 
The rivets of dried tear stains scatter your notes like the cuts and bruises fading from your skin.
The painful pages of burden. Every word, hit, insult, ingrained in your memory, the agonizing pluses, the claustrophobic beating of your heart, the fearful tremors, the salty tears slipping through the passage of your lips, manipulated to insanity, exhausted and delirious.
Bottled-up emotions flooded onto the pages of your journal – forever stuck in the cycle of shock, fear, denial, anger, and hopelessness. The stiffly chained pattern has never broken before.  
You never expected to feel any sort of safety.
Shame is always significant, always present, lingering in your mind, but the way Bucky cradles you in his strong arms brings you the comfort and acceptance you never expected, ever. The mounds of self-doubt that control your life slowly dissipate with every second you spend with him. The feeling he gives you is so foreign, and there are not enough words to describe it. The way he holds you in his arms. He’s nurturing. He feels like home.
The desperate longing for someone – that someone, perfect with all of their flaws and broken pieces. That person who will mend your fragile, fragmented mind, body, and soul. You never thought you would find the person, but with Bucky, it is finally starting to feel real.
You’ve never felt joy reading through your journal, repressed memories surfacing, haunting your every moment. Well, not until the night you spent the night at Buckys.
He is perfect – every part of him. 
“Sweetheart?” Bucky calls, a deep and gentle voice echoing down the stairs. His eyes land on the precious sight below him, and he gushes.
Longing gaze snapped back into reality, turning around and stuffing your journal in your bag. “Bucky?”
Nimble fingers rubbing through his beard, scratching the nape of his neck, he teases, taking his last steps to the couch. “Bunny?” kneeling, he tenderly pulls you into a hug, stroking Alpine when she lets out a jealous meow.
Walking down the hall, Bucky guides you into his bedroom. Thoughts mirroring yours, he stops you, gripping your chin between his fingers. Limbs intertwining and heavy breaths mingling, his soft lips skimming yours.
“Miss hearing that flustered hitch in your breath,” he whispers against your lips. “Perfect little girl’s all mine.”
You huff, nuzzling your heated cheeks into his buff chest. “Miss everything about you,” your words muffle against the black cloth constricting Bucky’s muscular figure.
Silence has never been more beautiful, cradled in his arms. Tension building with no fear, just desire.
“Got you something,” Bucky smirks.
Letting out a faint whine, you look up at Bucky, urgently wrapping your arms around his neck. Dwindling patience at an all-time low, heart rate climbing, Bucky welcomes your lips. His tongue glides pasts yours, syncing with the motion of your body as you cling to him.
“I got you a swimsuit,” Bucky whispers into the kiss. “Can go swimming this time, not just— God,” he curses under his breath when you playfully suck along his jaw.
“Not just… fuck me?” you pull away, surprising yourself with the way your words blatantly slip out of your mouth.
Bucky laughs, mockingly pulling away and laying a kiss on your forehead. “Someone’s got a dirty mouth today,” he chuckles, cupping your cheek.
With another sheepish grin, you follow Bucky down the hall, patiently swaying in your seat; you wait for him to bring you the swimsuit he found while in his suit.
Confidence in his step, Bucky tenderly smiles, holding out a cherry red one-piece.
Throat abruptly going dry, the customary throb radiates heat through your jean shorts. Hesitation stirs in your stomach–nervous nausea blocking your airway, cutting your breath short.
I’ve never felt uncomfortable around him. He’s never commented on my body, never drawn attention to my bruises and scars, and never made me feel weird for the horrendous way my eyes get puffy and face blotches when I cry. No one has ever made me feel the same as he does or made me feel good about myself. So does he care or only pity me because I’m just that pathetic? I don’t want him to worry about me. I don’t want him to think I just want attention. I don’t want to feel even more ashamed of myself. I just want to keep pretending that life is perfect, like how it is when I’m with him.
“I’m not the best shopper, aren't I?” Bucky sarcastically snickers, lightening the worried expression on your face.
“No, no, it’s just a little red?” you giggle, pushing your stresses aside. “I love it!”
Smiling up at Bucky, he takes your place, sitting on the linen couch. The soft chuckles of banter gone silent, you timidly undressing to rapidly put the swimsuit on. Tense arms hidden behind your back, you fidget with your fingers, eyes following the pattern of the wooden tiles.
Tongue swiping across his velvety yet slightly chapped lips, his large hand grips your discarded clothes. “Bunny?” his tone sweet and delicate, melodically humming with the blowing wind that ruffles the curtains.
Hands molding to your shoulders, he coos, “Take a deep breath for me.” Chaos constantly cluttering your mind, you follow Bucky’s instructions, giving him your vulnerability. “You don’t need to be scared of me. I’m here for you, no matter what.”
All you can do is nod, leaning into his warm embrace.
*ೃ༄
The summer sun beats down on the two of you as you agilely trace patterns down Bucky’s abdomen, centimeters away from gliding over his shorts. You shift lower in the sun lounger, intertwining your thigh around his leg.
The nervous lump thumping in your chest falls, adding to the pulse radiating off your clit and breaking the stop to your restlessness, gradually bucking your clenched hips as your nose brushes the thick trail of hair that travels beneath the waistband of his shorts.
“Feeling needy, bunny?” Bucky smugly chuckles, placing his book down and his colossal palm on your head instead. “No need to act shy; been teasing me, wiggling in those little red bottoms.” 
You tuck your head, and your flustered instinct kicks in, nose pressing against Bucky’s bulge; you whimper, realizing your position and rising embarrassment.
“Did so good for me last time. I’m still here to help but fuck.” Bucky tenderly rests his palm on your cheek. “Gonna get me hard just thinking about those soft lips wrapped around my cock, looked so pretty, so innocent sucking on my balls. Most perfect sight I’ve ever seen.”
The temperature of your face increases, but that doesn’t stop your body and your racing thoughts. Vivid images flood your memory of the first time you gave Bucky head, the first time you have ever given a man head. 
The one time has left you with a ravenous craving for Bucky, a desperate yearning to please him, the vague taste of him ingrained in your imagination every second that goes by, and it’s intoxicating.
“Can I?”
Looking up, you admire Bucky's defined abs, perfectly sculpted biceps, the bright sunlight glimmering in his crystal blue eyes. A comforting aura emits from his words, breath, and presence; that feeling of safety mixed with passion curates his effect on you, the lust that flows through your veins, leaving you writhing for friction.
You sit up, putting your weight on your heels – pressing against the emerging wet patch on your red bikini. “You know, um….” you mumble, eyes subconsciously drawing to Bucky’s bulge.
He shifts up, spreading his thighs, establishing a space for you to lay. “We have an eager little girl today, now do we?” Bucky chuckles, cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss to your forehead, savoring the feeling of his soft, blush lips on your skin before he pulls away, his gaze piercing through your eyes with a gentle smile. “You’re gonna make me crazy,” he murmurs.
Licking your lips, you tug the supple flesh with your teeth; anticipating his following instructions, you center yourself and lay your clammy palms on your legs, exhibiting your restlessness with a subtle pout.
Intertwining his fingers with yours, he guides your hands to his growing bulge. “Don’t worry, bunny. I'm here.” The trembling of your wrists dies down as Bucky reassuringly moves your shaky touch to a steady pace. “I got you.”
Slipping your fingers past the band of Bucky’s swim trunks, you pull them down his hips, gaze apprehensively shifting from Bucky’s alluring eyes to the expanding path of hair you’re gradually exposing.
“Lemme just,” Bucky grumbles, freeing his strained erection and aching full balls from the polyester. A content sigh washes over him as you finish taking off his bottoms.
Sinful and tainted, you cave in, your mouth watering excessively as you attentively watch Bucky wrap his fingers around his thick base. “Go on and lay down for me.” 
You hastily shift into the spot between Bucky’s muscular thighs, timidly placing a hand on his olive skin. “There you go, pretty girl’s so smart,” Bucky croons, his palm smoothing over your temple.
Your fingers barely conceal Bucky’s staggering girth mimicking his form seconds before; you glide your tongue up his shaft coating him with an abundant amount of your drool, all while maintaining hankering eye contact. His distinct, musky taste seeping into your taste buds, the feeling of his jutting veins intoxicating, you let out a content hum. Following your steady path, you kiss Bucky’s bulbous tip; a faint moan vibrates off your puckered lips, drawing a deep grunt from his chest.
“You see how hard you make me? Fucking hell, don’t need my help at all. So good for me—” Bucky groans, guiding your head down, pushing himself past your glistening lips. “That’s my girl.”
You immediately gag, glassy eyes building tears, your body’s natural response seeming hostile, but it’s your favorite feeling.
Both hands tentatively wrapped around him, the tip of Bucky’s cock prods the back of your throat—drool seeping past your lips, cascading over your tense knuckles.
Bucky's words meld into satisfied grunts, his chest heaving to the rhythm he enforces with his hand pressing down on the crown of your head. “Always take me like a champ,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Don’t you, bunny?”
His pulsing tip pummels down your throat, pushing your head down further, and a perfectly sculpted outline of his cock shapes down your neck abundantly. Copious amounts of saliva coat your chin, running down your chest and creating a glistening pool to glaze over the cushion below you.
Encouraging groans flow from Bucky’s lips as he digs his pearly white teeth into his plush red lips. His eyes locked on yours, the plentiful strands of silver that weave through his hair, glimmering in the sunlight.
The thump in your chest drops between your legs. You urgently clamp your thighs together, helplessly clenching your muscles in an attempt to fulfill the ache exuding heat from your neglected clit. You sync your needy movements with the tempo Bucky set with his hand planted on the back of your head. The repetition of your self-inflicted grinds rapidly builds a coil in your stomach.
Bucky frees you from under his grasp, stifles the tempo of his thrusts, and pumps his cock. “There she is,” he groans. “Shit. Making me feel so good.” 
Increasing the speed of the rough buckling of your hips, Bucky continues to praise you as your drool-painted lips connect to his full heavy balls. His stare drops from your watery eyes to your hips, needily grinding onto nothing. “You don’t need my help, doing amazing. Love it so much you’re humping the air, aren’t you, poor thing?”
The sound of your gags is replaced by your pleading whimpers, which have become more and more substantial as you borrow your nose further against Bucky’s base, his balls drawing up as you slurp your excessive drool.
“Come here,” Bucky motions, soothingly rubbing your free hand on his thigh. “Help me cum – need to feel that pretty cunt wrapped around my fingers. Need to show my girl how proud of her I am.”
Responding with a confused hum, Bucky cups your cheek, gently guiding you up, patting the cushion; he stabilizes your trembling legs, straddling your thighs so you’re hovering over his cock, harder than ever.
He patiently hooks his dexterous fingers around the vibrant fabric, revealing your puffy clit.
He catches your keen gaze, eyes following down to your eager pout and back to your cunt, skimming your mound with his digits. Struggling to form a sentence, you reflexively roll your hips, internally screaming, begging for Bucky to speed up his sly gestures.
His soft chuckles fuel your neediness, but before he can get his words out, you huff, “be patient. I know, I know.” Digging your fingers into his biceps, you giggle, mirroring his smile.
Swimsuit fully pushed to the side, Bucky slides his tip between your folds, teasing your entrance. “Using my words against me,” he rebuts, moving his hands and securely gripping your waist. “You know I’m right. I always make you feel good.”
Playfully rolling your eyes, you whimper under your breath, “Bucky.”
Feeding your restless state, he slowly slips you down onto his length, stretching past your entrance.
As much pleasure as Bucky has brought you in every other position, this foreign fluffiness and a false sense of control is startling yet exciting. Bucky’s steady thrusts, combined with your frantic bounces as you rock your hips, almost instantly bring you to your climax.
“B-Buck–” you mewl, embarrassment and pleasure clouding your senses. “Please, I’m- I’m….” Squinting your eyes shut, you arch your back, tensing your muscles.
Maintaining his authoritative grasp on you, Bucky attaches the pad of his thumb to your clit, pulling a squeal from the back of your throat. “So quick,” he scoffs, breathlessly moaning himself. “Look at me, bunny.”
You collapse onto Bucky’s chest, tired and helplessly chasing the rapid thump in your abdomen. “Feels s-so, feels so good.” Brows furrowed, you open your heavy lids, holding back your release until Bucky reassures your pleas. “Can’t hold it, can’t hold it.”
Desperately squirming on top of Bucky, you press your parted lips to his, panting into his mouth. “Go on, cum for me.”
You let go, moaning as you jolt forward, embracing Bucky’s pace, clinging to his frame, letting him take complete control. “There you go—” Bucky’s words get increasingly gravelly as he feels himself climaxing.
His hot breath cascades down your neck–the heightening, deep, harsh snaps of hips let you know he is close. “B-Bucky, please. Please c-cum in me,” you breathlessly mumble.
“Fuck, bunny.”
Bucky holds you close, soothing you from the bliss. He isn’t thinking about anything else besides you in his arms. He lets you bask in the comfortable silence as the pulse between your legs ebbs away until all that is left painting your sensitive folds is his smooth seed that you begged him to fill you up with.
Keeping your clammy cheek pressed to his beating chest Bucky reaches for one of the pool towels he had brought out to clean up to the best of his abilities.
“Said we were swimming, and you wouldn’t just fuck me,” you murmur, voice still raspy as you pull yourself out of the hazy aftermath.
Bucky chuckles as he lays the towel back down. “Really are using my word’s against me today, aren’t you?”
“Uhmm,” you happily hum back at Bucky, shifting up to press your buzzing lips back onto his.
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𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
I want to say thank you for all of your sweet messages on my form. They all mean a lot to me, and I wish there was a way for me to respond. I hope you guys enjoyed the fic. Sending my love.
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787 notes · View notes
buckrecs · 9 months
Text
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Hurt / Comfort
masterlist | req masterlist
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deny (with love) my labor by @divine-mistake
“I’m here,” you sob, hand shaking. “I’m right here, Bucky. I’m here. I’m here. Bucky, please. I’m here. Please don’t leave me. I’m here. I’m right here.”
Lavender by @wkemeup
Not every nightmare is the same and Bucky doesn’t always wakes up as the man you know.
A New Start by @wkemeup
Woken from a nightmare plagued with memories from his time in Hydra, Bucky finds himself standing at a mirror at 3am holding a pair of scissors, determined to cut away the strongest connection he has left to that time. His hair.
Going Backwards by @wkemeup
Bucky struggles to let go of his past and you’re there to help ease him back to the light
Scared of Loosing You by @moonvis
Bucky has a nightmare about loosing you. So, when he wakes up to see your bedside epmty, the nightmare feels all to real.
Trust by @softlyspector
She panics the day she finds him in the bathroom with scissors in his hands and freshly cut hair in a soft pile on the floor, innocently sandwiched between his bare feet.
never by @irndad
Bucky has a nightmare that you find a file of everything he’s done (you already know everything in the waking world) and tell him to get out, and that he’s a monster. when he wakes, she informs him otherwise.
solace by @buckysfaveplum
Bucky’s been avoiding the idea of you spending the night, until he no longer can. After you witness one of his nightmares, he prepares for you to end it.
All of You by @itsapeterthing
in which bucky confesses that he’s afraid to sleep next to you because he believes his arm is a weapon and he fears hurting you
Mended Fragments by @foreverindreamlandd
After a night filled with nightmares about his past, Bucky is drowning in pain and shame. His friend Steve Rogers finds him sitting on the floor in a comatose state, and texts you to ask for you to come over and help Bucky fight the demons that are haunting him.
Cutting Bucky’s Hair by @mellowpiepizzalamp
Bucky’s hair didn’t sit good with him anymore.
Still Having Nightmares by @spilledkauffie
The desperate “no’s” and the heavy breathing. Rolling over in bed, you placed your hand where he often began the night, right next to you.
Scrub-a-dub by @subwaysurf45
Bucky asks you to cut and wash his hair.
boys don’t cry by @bucky-bucket-barnes
Bucky keeps all his emotions buried deep within because that’s what he believes he’s supposed to do. One night after he’s attacked, he goes to you searching for some sense of comfort. After a loving conversation, Bucky learns to let it all out.
3:15 by @delicatelyherdreams
After hearing Bucky’s screams, you know you can’t just leave him alone.
Burning the Midnight Oil by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky
Bucky says he’s okay. He tells you that he just can’t fall asleep, but his continuous absence from your bedroom spells trouble.
midnight haircuts by @lovelybarnes
reader cuts bucky’s hair
better man by @rocketrhap3000
Bucky wants to take a big step in his personal growth and change up his hairstyle, and you promise him you’ll love him no matter what.
Give Me A Sign by @lostgirlmuseum
Bucky asks the universe for a reason to live. The universe delivers you.
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337 notes · View notes
Note
bucky request:
You and Bucky are on a daytime date (farmer's market? amusement park? picnic?) when you randomly run into your ex (who cheated on you or was emotionally abusive??)
What happens next is up to you.
༉‧₊˚. 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 || 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬
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― pairings: bucky barnes x plus size!reader
― summary: nothing could ruin your date with bucky, until he did.
― warnings: implied mental abuse, implied depression, toxic relationships, shitty exes, bucky beats his ass, blood mentioned like- one time.
― wc: 823
⋆ a/n: thank you so much for this request :] it was kind of a sad write, but i hope this fic serves as something helpful for the people that have been through shitty relationships and didn't have someone to protect them.
masterlist | AO3
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There was a time where you weren't as happy, where you convinced that the world was against you, that you were just out on the earth to live and to die. So, once you were free, you were relieved to be able to leave it in the past, but like the saying goes, your past will always come back to bite you in the ass.
It took you a long time to be able to trust Bucky the way you did now, with the way the solider took care of you, made sure that you were comfortable, made sure that you knew that you were loved. You had somehow hit the jackpot, and you couldn't have been happier, just like you couldn't have been happier now that you were finally able to go on a date with Bucky. With your boyfriend being in the Avengers, he was away a lot for missions, so it was rare that you and him were able to be put like this, doing something as simple as walking around a fair.
Your day had been filled with laughs, kisses, sweets, and adrenaline, something that was quickly becoming your favorite combination. It was as the day was untouchable, until it wasn't.
You thought you were hallucinating it at first, but you were sure that it was him walking towards you, a menacing smile on his face.
"Hey, _______. Long time no see." Your stomach twisted, your throat feeling as though it was closing up. In that moment, you had wished you hadn't sent Bucky away to get cotton candy, god knows how long the line was. "Hey, babe, who's this?" Bucky? He wasn't supposed to be back yet. A wave of relief and comfort settled over you, you instantly taking his hand as you gritted out, "A friend." He just scoffed, "C'mon," He said in faux playfulness, "You didn't tell him about me?" He knew you didn't, the bastard finding entertainment in the trauma that he had caused you.
"I'm one of her better ex's'!" He announced, as if he was proud of it, reaching out to shake Bucky's. Your boyfriend just stared at him, a glare so lethal that you wish it had taken him out. "I'm her boyfriend, and by the looks of it, my girlfriend doesn't seem to want to talk to you. So how about you get out here before there's a problem." Your ex raised his brow, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes slid from you to him. "I didn't know you'd be able to find someone that could love you." Bucky stepped closer to him, taking his collar in his hands roughly as he stared at him face-to-face.
"The fuck did you just say?" Bucky growled. "I'm just saying man," He raised his arms up in defeat. "I'm just saying man, with a woman like her, I think she'd die alone."
"Buck—" But it was too late, he had already threw a punch, a crowd gathering around all of you, piercing eyes watching as the Winter Soldier lived up to their expectations. "Bucky, please! They're children here, he's not worth it! Let's just go!" You placed a hand on his shoulder, prying him off of the piece of shit that now floundered on the ground. He looked at you, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed, a sign that you needed to spill your guts to him as soon as you guys left.
"C'mon, Buck, let's go before the news station gets here. No doubt someone's already recorded you." You finished with a sigh, taking him by his hand as you tugged him towards the exit, but not before he turned around and spat on his already bloody face.
As you got to his car, the inside was silent, Bucky's hands gripping the steering wheel as though he was going to rip it off, and he could if genuinely wanted too.
"At least you used your flesh hand." You attempted to joke, but quickly look down at your own hands when he hadn't said anything.
"Who was he, actually?" He asked darkly from the drivers seat. "Well, he was right about the ex part, but he wasn't the best of them. He.. he wasn't very nice to me when we were dating and.. it's kind of fucked me up ever since." You laughed sadly at the end. You could hear him sigh deeply, his beat up hand taking your softer one in his. "Why didn't you tell me about this?" He asked quietly. "Because I just wanted to forget about it. You're my boyfriend now, you're the one that makes me happy, so why should I dwell on somebody that made my life a living hell?" He understood, bringing your knuckles to his lips as he pressed sweet kisses on them.
"Then I'm glad I beat his ass then." You looked at him, a smile on your face. "Yeah, I am too."
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ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood
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1K notes · View notes
mollysolo · 1 year
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congrats on 2.7k!! may i have a steve harrington with bucky barnes based off of the song lover, you should’ve come over by jeff buckley?
It’s Never Over
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X fem!scarlet witch!Reader
Summary: You and Bucky finally reunite after what feels like centuries apart.
Warnings: Mentions of injuries, crying, heartbreak, depression, Bucky’s nightmares, screaming, an argument, insecurities, death + a breakup
Word Count: 1.6k
a/n: i hope you like this!
My 2.7k follower celebration!
the gif below does not belong to me
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While you walked through New York on any given day after the blip, you could see Bucky in everything. You saw him in the group of people standing around an empty casket in the ground. You saw him in the people sat with their loved ones graves, even in the pouring rain. You understood their pain, you had felt that yourself everyday for the past five years.
And at this point, you would do anything to get Bucky back. Even if that meant letting Bruce experiment with time travel on you. You were just that desperate.
You felt broken without him and while you knew you shouldn’t be so dependent on Bucky, you couldn’t help it. All you needed was him and his love and there was no way to make this longing go away until Bucky returned.
While in the midst of your depression, you often wondered if he was okay wherever him along with everyone else ended up. You hoped that he still loved you even after all the time you’ve spent apart in recent years.
Many told you just to move on, let go of Bucky, but it wasn’t that simple. You couldn’t just break free from the man you had loved for seven years now. He still owned your heart and he always would, even though he was no longer here. You loved him too much, you could never fall in love with someone else. He was all you’ve ever wanted.
And as time went on, you easily became blind to the ways your mental health had been damaged. You felt alone as if you had no one and no matter how many times Steve reminded you that he was there for you, that feeling still never went away. All you ever felt like doing was sleeping, you didn’t the motivation for much else.
You wanted to heal, to be strong for Bucky even if he wasn’t there to see it. But waking up without him holding you in his arms became harder every single morning. And all you could do was hope, hope that the things Bruce was working on would actually work and bring everyone back.
But you would continue to wait for him, burn for him, no matter how long it took to get him back. Especially after what had happened before he had dusted. You could remember the argument two of you had as if it hadn’t been five years since it happened. That guilt had been eating you up inside ever since then.
You two had started to argue in the first place because Bucky had accidentally started to choke you during a particularly bad dream. And no matter how many times you told him that you were fine now and that you already forgave him, he was still so mad at himself for hurting you.
“I’m a monster! All I do is hurt people! Why can’t you see that? You should hate me!” he yelled at you, his hands moving about while he spoke.
“Don’t tell me how to feel! And it’s not your fault that you were forced to do horrible things, Bucky. You could never hurt me, you’re not a bad person or a monster!” you yelled back, letting out a deep sigh once you finished speaking.
He sighed as well and spoke again moments later, “I don’t want to hurt you again, doll. I think it would be for best if we broke up.” he told you, which easily caused tears to start to prick your eyes. Sure, you were a little upset that Bucky saw himself in such a negative way but you didn’t want to break up with him over it. But before you could say anything else, Bucky quickly left your bedroom and was out of sight in under thirty seconds.
You could also clearly remember the moment he had dusted. Seeing him disappear right in front of your very eyes destroyed you, it made you feel as if Thanos had ripped your heart out of your chest.
Once Thanos had snapped his fingers, you sprinted over to where Bucky was, not caring that you were now broken up. You had to make sure that he was still there. And as you reached him, his metal arm began to turn into dust and his gun fell to the ground.
“(y/n)?” he said, his eyes directly looking into yours. And before you could say anything to him, he was gone.
You then ran over to where he once stood and your knees gave out as a result of the pain you were now feeling, sending your body crashing to the ground. You screamed out in agony as tears swiftly fell down your cheeks and you frantically grasped at the dirt Bucky had just been standing on.
“Bucky!” you screamed as you stared up at the sky for a moment, your tears not slowing down whatsoever. You were truly heartbroken after what you had gone through today.
Steve had tried to pull you back and take you to the quinjet, but you wouldn’t let him. You clawed at his arms, screaming at him to let you go. It took both Steve and Natasha’s strength to pull you away from where Bucky had been.
But even after five years had passed, the pain you felt that day still lingered in you. Nevertheless, you often had moments where you began to loose hope that you would ever see Bucky’s sweet return. You wanted to give up but you still pushed yourself to keep fighting, thinking of what Bucky would’ve wanted for you.
And after what felt like a century, Bruce finally figured out the key to getting everyone back and for once since Bucky dusted, you felt a sense of happiness.
Now, you all were flying back to Wakanda and Steve had suggested that you try to sleep on the way there. But the thought of what was to come as well as your need for revenge kept you awake. You would get to kill the man who took Bucky away from you even if you died as well.
But you had managed to ground yourself with the thought of Bucky’s smiles and how you get to see it again very soon. This kept your mind occupied for a little while and before you knew it, the quinjet had landed in Wakanda once again. And now it was time to fight with everything you had left in you.
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“You took everything from me!” you screamed at Thanos, pure anger radiating throughout your entire body.
“I don’t even know who you are.” Thanos replied, with furrowed eyebrows followed by a smirk on his face, showing that he thought that he would get away with all of this again.
“You will, in the after life.” you said with a smirk of your own as your magic began to quickly flow from your hands and up towards Thanos’ unprotected throat.
You then let your anger fuel your magic as you wrapped the bright red energy around Thanos’ throat, squeezing tighter and tighter, your eyes glowing red as you screamed at him. And in this moment, you began to not care if you had to sacrifice all of your blood to get Bucky back, it would still be worth it as long as Thanos suffered.
With one final scream, your magic snapped Thanos’ neck and his now dead body fell to the battlefield below you. And once you were sure he was dead, you took a few seconds to catch your breath when you suddenly felt someone tap your shoulder.
When you turned around, you saw Bucky standing there with a hopeful look in his blue eyes, “Bucky!” you said while you raised your eyebrows and relief filled your system.
You hugged him tightly as he began to speak, “I’m not too late, am I?” he asked, a cute smile on his face. You smiled with him as these words fell from his lips.
“No, never.” you quickly said before you pulled away from the hug and pressed a passionate kiss to his lips. You stopped kissing him back for a few seconds and stuck your hand up behind you as you had sensed that some of Thanos’ henchmen were now standing behind you two. You easily got rid of them then kissed Bucky once again, pouring as much love as possible into the kiss.
“I love you, doll, so much and I’m sorry things ended the way they did.” he told you as tears started to fall down both of your faces like a gentle waterfall.
You nodded and folded your lips in, “I’m sorry too. But all that matters now is that you came back to me. And I hope that we can be together again.” you replied, a sad smile now spread across your lips, your eyes focused on Bucky and only Bucky in this moment.
He took you back into his arms again as you said this, feeling the need to hold you tight for a little while longer, “It was never over, doll, I need you to know that. I just got stuck in my mind and I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. But I’m yours for as long you’ll have me, I promise.” he muttered through his tears, but you could still hear him as clear as day.
You let a smile take over your face and pulled away once more, “How does forever sound?” you asked him, your arms still loosely wrapped around his ribs.
“Perfect. Now, let’s finish this.” he simply replied. And just like that, your heart was complete and you were able to feel whole again.
The two of you then went right back into battle, together this time around.
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alohastyles-x · 10 months
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I would love to see a ‘this is me trying’ where it’s the reader and Bucky getting each other through hard times and they take turns with the song. Like ‘Pouring out my heart to a stranger, But I didn't pour the whiskey’ could be Buckys mandated therapy and ‘They told me all of my cages were mental, So I got wasted like all my potential’ could be about the reader and maybe depression/ anxiety. I just know they would be each other rock during hard times.
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This Is Me Trying - b.b.
They told me all of my cages were mental | So I got wasted like all my potential | Pouring out my heart to a stranger | But I didn't pour the whiskey
note: this is a part of my Cruel Summer (Marvel's Version) Project, running all summer long. I think I may have focused a bit too much on Bucky than I did the reader as far as the lyric analysis goes buttttt I still hope you like it ! This is what came to my mind while listening to the song while writing. Bucky and reader would def be eachother's rocks, and he would def be vulnerable and soft with her!
wordcount: 2.5k
trope / pairing: bucky x Fem Reader , hurt comfort.
warnings: drunk creeps at the bar, the internal struggles of a relationship
Materslist | Marvel Masterlist | Cruel Summer (Marvel's Version) Masterlist |
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Bucky 
For once, the couch wasn’t the most uncomfortable part of today's therapy session. It was usually the bane of his existence, the scratchy material somehow poking him even through the thick cloth of his pants, distracting him from whatever Dr. Raynor was discussing. But not today. No, today, Bucky’s focus was solely on the doctor, the way her lips formed around the words that were waiting to land with a sting. 
“I want you to do something for me, James,” Dr. Raynor said, her head falling to the side as she held his attention. 
“I want you to think of everyone you have in your life right now who is there for you. It doesn’t matter how little or how many people come to mind… but there must be at least one. Someone who you know you can always count on, even through the memories that plague you, who knows all of your secrets, who you trust.” The last word hit with an intensity that had even the winter soldier squirming in his seat. 
Trust was not something Bucky had. Not after Steve. Everything Dr. Raynor just described, was who Steve used to be to Bucky, and she knew it. That was the point. Steve was now gone, and Bucky had to accept that, and have a new rock. 
“And what if I can’t think of anyone?” Bucky asked, his tone short and snipped. 
“You expect me to sit here and believe there is not a single person who does not have your back?” She asked again. Her tone said everything. She knew. She knew about the one person he kept a secret, who knew the parts of him he kept hidden. He stared at the doctor quizzically, before leaning forward on his elbows.
“How do you know,” he whispered gruffly, careful of his word choice. There were always eyes and ears in the building, aimlessly looking for new information. He was not about to divulge his deepest secret that easily. 
“James, you seem to forget that I myself was highly ranked in the Army. I know my way around sourcing out information.” She responded, still patiently watching him as she waited for him to continue. 
“I swear to god-”
“Let me stop you right there. Rest assured she is safe, her location undisclosed, I don’t even know her name. But I know there is someone, and I know it is a girl. So tell me about this person. This is a safe space, James. Nothing you say leaves this room, or else you could actually sue me.” 
Bucky contemplated this for a moment, before settling back into the scratchy couch. His mind wandered once more to her. To you. To the smell of your hair when you pull him in for a hug. To the way your arms wrap tightly around his waist, gripping his shirt slightly in the process. To the way your breathing softens when you're in his embrace, as if you feel perfectly safe. 
He had met you in a bar, of all places. It was a bar Sam had dragged him to, attempting to get him to socialize. Bucky stayed at the bar top all night, downing whiskey after whiskey, while Sam flitted about with a blonde who was very interested in what Captain America was up to tonight. Buvky had rolled his eyes, turning his attention to the bartender. She was a pretty thing, her hair bouncy despite the sweat glistening her brow. She made drink after drink for the patrons, talking animatedly as she did so. It was then, as she was twirling a half empty bottle around mixing a drink, that Bucky realized he was no longer staring at the bartender, but just past her to a patron at the end of the bar. 
Y/N 
You sat at the other end of the bar, looking around timidly. You were definitely out of place, the complete opposite to the socialites around you. The drink of choice for the night for you was water, wanting to be as stone cold sober as possible. There were too many guys eyeing your figure to ever make you feel safe enough to try anything else. 
You glanced behind you once more at a group of guys who had been subtly cat-calling you all night. Their comments went from compliments to criticism when you didn’t give them the time of day. Now the talk was borderline dangerous, as one remarked what he wished he could do to you. 
“Careful man, she’s probably fuckin’ mental,” one laughed. 
“She’d have to be to not be into me,” the other responded. 
Your car was twenty feet from the bar. An easy run, if you had to, but since your car was old and beat up, there wasn’t an automatic lock. There was no easy way out, so instead you decided to stay at the bar, hoping eventually the group would retire for the night, leaving you alone. 
The hope of that happening though only dwindled as the night went on. You glanced over once again, to see they were not just staring at you, but at someone who was walking towards you- a guy. But this guy wasn’t with them before. You nervously clutched your drink, as his heavy footsteps stopped in front of you. 
“Are you alright?” His voice was a lot more gentle than you would have thought, given his gruff appearance. He was dressed in jeans and a tight black long sleeve shirt. He had a five o’clock shadow, his face rough and his stare was militant… intense. You gulped as you held his gaze, too captivated to turn away. 
“Uh, yeah,” you said quickly, glancing past him to the group of guys. They had never looked more interested. The mystery man turned slightly, almost as if he was about to leave. You shot out and grabbed his arm, a gasp echoing in the tight space. His arm was solid, not of muscle, but of something else. Heat radiated off of it, almost as if it was some conduit- or perhaps his shirt was. He glanced to where your arm was wrapped around his forearm, waiting for you to remove it. 
“I’m sorry,” you said, again with a rushed demeanor. You withdrew your hand, and the man winced at the loss of contact. “Please don’t go,” you pleaded in a hushed whisper. He nodded, before tapping on the shoulder of the patron sitting next to you. 
“Excuse me, do you mind if I steal this seat so I can sit next to my girlfriend?” He asked. The patron nodded, getting out of his seat. 
“I’m Bucky,” he said, as he sat down in the seat. 
“y/n,” you whispered, careful to not let the group of men hear. You stole a quick glance, careful not to draw too much attention- but it was to no avail. Bucky noticed far too quickly, whipping his head to the group of men. They clumsily diverted their attention away from you, onto the beers in front of them.  
“Are they bothering you?” Bucky asked lowly, his hands balled in fists. 
“I don’t think they will be any longer,” you whispered, glancing down at the fistthat now glittered under the light.  He merely nodded, before shifting in his seat to face the bar. You did the same.
A comfortable beat of silence passed between the two of you, as you waited for him to start some sort of conversation. When he didn’t you sighed, picking up your near empty cup of water. He noticed, and flagged the bartender down. 
“She’ll have another…” he trailed off, waiting to see what you had. 
“Water.” 
“Water- water?” 
“Yeah, I tend not to drink when creepy men are watching my every move.” You stated, running your hands through your hair. Bucky could tell you were uncomfortable here, and he wanted to do whatever he had to do to make you more comfortable. 
“There isn’t any way to say this that isn’t going to make me look like a sleaze bag… but if you wanted to get out of here I would be glad to escort you somewhere where you feel more safe,” Bucky offered. You smiled at him, the kindness warming your heart. 
“That’s mighty kind of you actually,” you replied, taking one last sip of your water. 
That night had changed everything for you. You had met someone who became such an integral part of your life, you didn’t know how you even breathed before him. Bucky was silent, kind, and patient. He was the epitome of a comfortable silence. After a long day, you know you could come home and just relax, not having to worry about forcing conversations and hosting small talks. He was patient with you through all of your mental spells, from the bouts of depression to the woes of your anxieties. He was there, calm and always reassuring. He understood. 
Then there were the nights. The nights that had the two of you up, crying in one another's arms from the ghosts of the past, coming to haunt you through the darkness. The nightmares disguised as dreams, filling your head while you slept until you were jolted awake, Bucky jolting right along with you. The two of you panted, trying to catch your breath, before revealing the nightmare to the other. 
It only worsened when Bucky got sent on mission after mission, disappearing for days, weeks, and one time even months. During that mission, Bucky had sent a worrisome text to Peter Parker- the only person not on the mission that Bucky knew. He wasn’t the biggest fan of Peter, but he knew the kid would keep you safe. 
Please check on y/n. Haven’t heard from her.
yes mr. bucky sir, i’m on my way now. 
Peter knocked on your door minutes later, timidly calling out your name. When you didn’t answer, he used his suit to unlock the door, slowly walking around the apartment you shared with Bucky. It was small, and immaculately tidy Peter noticed, as he worked his way towards the bedroom in the back. 
He found you there, curled up in a ball, hugging on a sweatshirt that smelled like Bucky. 
“Oh, y/n,” Peter sighed, scooping you up. “I got you.” 
When Bucky returned, you were instantly in his arms. The tears freely flowing as you squeezed him tightly. He held you just as tightly, never wanting to let you go again. 
And he stupidly made that promise, even though it was out of his control. 
Bucky
That’s what the most recent fight had been about, and why he was now in Dr Raynors office, sighing heavily as the memories faded out. 
“Tell me what happened,” she said, settling back into her chair, her pen at the ready to continue taking notes. Bucky looked at his cracked, calloused hands, stalling. He didn’t want to relive this, but he knew if he wanted to fix it… he had to. 
“I had made a promise to her that I wasn’t going to leave her side again… and then Sam called me away on a mission. I didn’t have a choice, and it was too dangerous to try and bring her with. So, I left a note on my pillow and I left. I’m not proud of it, I know I should have handled that better. But when I came back, she was furious. Like, explosive. Nothing I did would calm her temper. She just… wouldn’t stop screaming at me. Usually she just isolates and shuts down; that I can understand so much better than this… whatever this is. I… I don’t know what to do doc… I can’t lose her.” 
“Have you tried talking to her?” Dr. Raynor asked, her head cocking to the side. Bucky had never been this open with her.
“No.”
“No? Okay, well why don’t we try that first. Explain to her exactly what you explained to me, and make sure to apologize for leaving a note. I can tell you right now, no one likes to be left like that… and I think you can relate to that a little bit,” Dr. Raynor finished. 
The clock on the wall struck 12, signaling their session was over. Bucky nodded goodbye to the doctor, before slinging his jacket on to prepare for the cold weather. The winter was harsher this year, the cold biting Bucky’s nose the second he stepped outside. He hurriedly put his gloves on as he walked down the street. 
He was only a few blocks from your shared apartment, and he  had survived much colder weather than this, but he was still regretting not hailing a cab. It was dusk, the sun beginning to settle herself against the buildings, casting a hazy glow on the streets. Vendors were packing up their carts, preparing to leave for the night. One, however, was still open. An older lady sat behind her cart, an abundance of flowers sat on top. 
“FLOWERS $5” the sign read, in sloppy handwriting. She was clearly homeless, and something pained Bucky to see such an old lady on the streets during the cold spell. 
“Hi, I’ll take two bouquets please,” Bucky asked, handing her a $50. “Keep the change, please.”
“A-are you sure?” The frail woman asked, as she bundled up two bouquets for him. He nodded, offering her a warm smile. He wished there was more he could do as he walked away, but when he turned around to glance at her again, she was gone. 
The apartment was quiet as he unlocked the door and headed in, the only light streaming in from behind the curtains, casting the same haze from the street into the rooms. It was almost too quiet, as he walked from room to room. 
“y/n?” Bucky called out, hoping he hadn’t missed you yet. 
“In here,” you muttered from the bedroom. You were sitting in the bay window under a blanket, reading a book. It was then Bucky realized just how cold the apartment was. 
“The heater went out,” you said, setting your book down. You noticed the flowers in his hands, and glanced back up at him. 
“I’ll take a look at it. Here, these are for you.” He said, sitting down across from you. He handed you the bouquets, smiling gently as you took them.
“Are you apologizing with flowers, Bucky Barnes?” You asked, teasing eminent in your voice. He hung his head, nodding slightly. 
“Look, y/n, you know I’m not good at this. But for what it’s worth… I know I fucked up. I should have actually talked to you, instead of leaving you a note, and I never should have made a promise I couldn’t keep. But I-” his voice hitched in his throat as he tried his hardest not to break down in tears. “I can’t lose you, okay. You’re my rock.” 
A tear rolled down your cheek. As apologies go, it was one of the better ones you had received from the stoic soldier in front of you. Placing the flowers down, you pulled Bucky in against you, running your fingers through his hair. 
“It’s not okay, but I forgive you. I can’t lose you either.” You whispered, placing a kiss on his head. 
“I just want you to know, this is me trying.”
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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 · 1 month
Text
the sun
pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader
summary: after the events of the snap, you find out news that's both heart wrenching and warming. what happens five years later when bucky's back?
warnings: death, mourning, pregnancy, childbirth, canon-typical violence (not much but just adding to cover all the bases), loosely based on end game and infinity war (as in ignore my mistakes lmaooo), if i failed to mention any warnings PLEASE LET ME KNOW!
wc: 2.6k
a/n: dude idk why i've had an urge to write such heart wrenching angst lately. i'm actually in a decent place rn. i tried to cut this fic down bc originally it was SOOOO long i felt like a lot of it was just filler and i feel like shorter fics of mine tend to do better... ANYWHO! this does have a happy/hopeful ending so no worries! also picturing this beefcake for this story is AGHHHHHHH!
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you never thought two lines on a stick could ever break your heart the way they did.
tears clouded your vision as you gripped the counter, trying not to crumble or succumb to your grief.
6 weeks ago, the avengers lost. everything.
half of the world, gone in a moment.
in one moment, your world collapsed. seeing bucky fade to dust right in front of you...
sobs wracked through your body as you crumbled to the ground.
this was supposed to be a happy moment. there should be tears of joy, not sobs of sorrow. your heart should feel full of love, not like there's a super-soldier sized hole in it.
"y/n," nat's voice rang outside the door, giving you a moment to yourself.
"just-," you tried to level your breathing before she opened the door, knowing but not understanding the grief you were feeling.
she wrapped her arms around your body, tucking your head into her neck as she gently rubbed your back soothingly. steve leaned against the bathroom door, glancing on the counter to see what they had all expected.
a positive pregnancy test.
you were having bucky's baby.
without bucky.
you gripped his dog tags that you had been wearing since the funeral. they were the only thing that could truly ground you.
they brought back happy memories of cuddling in bed, the cool metal shocking your skin for only a moment before realizing that it was only bucky and smiling at the memory.
god, it hadn't even been two months.
how were you supposed to do this alone?
"we're here for you," steve's voice called from the doorway, as if he could hear your thoughts. "you'll never be alone. not in this... not ever." he shook his head, his brows furrowed in a serious, straight line.
eventually, your sobs subsided. you stood with nat from your seat on the ground, wiping your own eyes mustering up a pathetic smile before she left you and steve to work out your grief together.
"we didn't even know it was possible," you shrugged. "it's like he sent me them..." you placed your hand on an invisible bump before facing steve, his teary eyes reminding you that he had lost his best friend, too. "he sent us this baby."
you reached your hand out for steve to hold. he took it gratefully and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight and letting only a few tears slip his waterline before pulling back.
"if you'll let me, i want to be there for you for everything," his chin wobbled. "buck would kick my ass if i let you go through this alone." a genuine laugh left your lips for the first time in nearly two months.
"i would be so grateful for that," you nodded as you let go of his arms. "part of me still can't believe that it's real. it's like part of me still expects him to walk into the compound from a long mission or something..." you shook your head. "i know that sounds so stupid."
"it's not," he shook his head with a smile. "it's what i wish was true, maybe it's your subconscious trying to preserve your mind?"
"maybe," you shrugged before continuing, "i should probably talk to tony and bruce, huh?"
-
you knew you were around eight weeks along.
according to the doctors' tony had enlisted, however, you were already 12 weeks along, which was impossible.
bucky had been gone on a mission at that time... but it's whatever. you got to hear the heartbeat. steve went with you, too. you both bawled together. you kept three copies of the ultrasound and he kept two.
banner had already offered to do some testing on the dna of the baby, noting that the serum would likely affect the pregnancy (as it probably already has).
you had talked to tony about retiring from the whole superhero gig for the time being. you needed to mourn and prepare for a new life simultaneously. tony had promised to provide anything you needed at the drop of a hat, and he sure as hell delivered.
within no time, your pregnancy was being measured at 20 weeks while only being pregnant for 12. banner was concerned for your body's ability to keep up with the rapid rate of growth of the baby. he had you on a strict, hefty diet with two different prenatal vitamins in attempt to help your nutrition.
in spite of your best efforts, you were always exhausted and in pain. but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. this was bucky's baby. you didn't care how much pain you went through when you had half of him growing inside of you.
you couldn't walk for long without feeling like passing out, which banner chalked up to low iron. steve had grown progressively more worried for you and the baby the longer the pregnancy went on.
as a result, he had moved into the spare room that was in your and bucky's house. truly, it just made it easier for him to help you finish up the nursery anyway.
he was very handy about it all, painting, building furniture from scratch, the whole deal.
"i've been thinking... and if it's a girl, i want to name her evangeline james barnes," you informed steve as you ate the steak he had been making for the past few weeks of your pregnancy, as ordered by dr. banner. that with carrots, broccoli, potatoes, and for dessert strawberries, blueberries and raspberries over ice cream. "and if it's a boy, cyrus james barnes. evangeline means good news, and cyrus means sun."
steve placed his hand over yours, "i think buck would've loved them." he smiled warmly as you downed the food in a few minutes.
you had begun showing soon after you found out you were pregnant, but now, it felt like it was impossible to hide. nat had been wonderful about helping you keep up with the changes your body was going through, getting you new maternity clothes every week.
she even made sure to get you every single craving that wasn't in accordance to banner's hefty diet. not that he didn't want you to eat more, he thought it was best you did! but he also wanted to make sure that with all that you did eat, your body got as many nutrients as possible.
just to be safe, he kept you on other vitamin supplements anyway.
you couldn't help but imagine what bucky would say or do about everything now.
he would hold your body closely, pressing firm kisses to your bump every chance he could get while whispering some sickly sweet sayings to your unborn child, words that would melt the winter soldier's cold exterior.
he would whisper words of encouragement any moment you felt worried about your abilities to be a mom. he would say how beautiful you were, in spite of being bloated in places you didn't know could bloat.
he would be wonderful, and in your mind, he was still alive and vibrant. well, as vibrant as bucky ever was, at least.
truthfully, that's the only way you were able to keep going on like this. steve was wonderful, but you couldn't help but want the love of your life by your side as you tried to navigate this new chapter.
in a couple more weeks, you were projected to be at 32 weeks. bruce and tony were talking with your doctors about the safety of inducing so early, both for you and the baby.
oh, and you wanted the gender to be a surprise.
and within the week, you were having your baby.
steve and nat were by your side during the birth, whispering encouraging words and compliments of your strength.
"i need him!" you screamed in pain as you held one of each of their hands, sobbing in agony. "i need james! i need my bucky! i can't do this alone, i can't-i can't!"
"you can," nat reminded you. "this baby needs you," she held your face to look at hers. "bucky is a part of this baby." you swore you could see tears in her eyes before turning to face steve.
"remember what you told me when you found out you were pregnant?" he didn't bother wiping the tears from his face. "bucky sent you-sent us this baby. he knows you can do it." you sniffled before nodding at your two best friends, pushing with one last scream and a second later, you had...
"cyrus james barnes," the nurse called to you. "it's a boy, congratulations mom."
-
the next few years went by quicker than you could've ever imagined.
crawling, first words, first steps...
you missed bucky. not a day passed where you didn't miss him.
but, having cy helped a lot. he looked just like his father. dark brown hair, icy blue eyes, a cute little nose... not to mention his father's stubbornness.
you made sure he knew who his father was. you took him to the museum often, showing him the statue of his father and his background in the world war, him saving the world so much. you told him how you fell in love with him.
how you fell for the quiet man before ever really talking to him. how you were partners on a long-term, undercover mission and that's where your love ignited from the sparks.
not that cy understood any of what you told him. you just felt it was important to know that his parents loved him, and each other dearly.
you never took off his dog tags, either.
steve was a huge help the whole time. he kept working for the avengers, so he was gone often, but he provided a good male role model for cyrus. after all, he was his uncle steve. he already taught him how to throw a ball, albeit a little softball, but it counts!
you made sure to document everything that went on in yours and cyrus's life.
banner had said that cyrus was growing at an exceeding rate, but nothing to be concerned about. in fact, cyrus was turning five in almost half a year, meaning the anniversary of bucky's death, or disappearance or whatever you called it, was coming up.
then, you got a call from tony and banner.
it all happened so quickly, from testing to planning to the execution. pepper watched cyrus for you while you went back with steve, scott, and tony to get the tesseract.
of course, the men being men had to come upon a few hiccups, but eventually, after going as far back as the 70s, you brought back the tesseract.
the only thing is that nat never came back...
next thing you know, bruce is snapping his fingers and clint is getting a call from his supposedly deceased wife. your eyes fill with tears, hands searching in your pockets for your phone to see if you've gotten anything yet.
is it possible he wasn't brought back? he was the first to... disintegrate. die. maybe that meant something in the eyes of the stones?
then, you felt a buzz in your hand.
although, you didn't have any time to try to grasp what that meant, because more aliens came to earth.
shocker.
after yet another war, one that you weren't even prepared for, after losing more people, again. after losing tony...
but amidst the chaos of the aftermath of the fight, with screams of joy and shock and grief surrounding you, tears streaming down your face, your eyes met the blue ones you only saw in your son.
he slowly walked towards you as the tears sped up. you didn't even realize when your feet began running towards him.
when his arms wrapped around your waist, you finally felt the home you thought you had come to terms with never feeling again. your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in his shoulder as you breathed in the scent of gunmetal that had overtaken him in the battle.
"oh my god," you cried into the leather of his jacket. he lifted you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist as you felt his smile on your cheek. "i can't believe you're really here."
"i'm here, doll," his hands cradled your head so tenderly. "i'm not ever leaving again. never."
you pulled back before your eyes widened in realization. "you've gotta meet someone, jamie."
his brows furrowed in confusion, just smiling and nodding along with whatever you said.
within the next few hours, simply being held by bucky before steve stole him away with a hug, you finally brought him home.
"so, steve moved in," you started as you pulled your car into the driveway, turning to see bucky looking at you with an incredulous look. "you'll see why." you reached to hold his hand before he brought yours to his lips, pressing a kiss there.
you told him to wait in the car as you went inside to relieve the babysitter for cyrus. after giving him some cash, he went outside, knocking on your car window to let bucky know he should make his way inside.
upon entering, he saw you sitting on the floor with a little boy with striking blue eyes that seemed so familiar to him. his nose, too. his lips though, they were all yours. he had a slight grin plastered on his lips, one that matched yours to a t.
"daddy?" suddenly, it all clicked.
his heart, his mind, his fucking soul, everything made sense now. the pain, hydra, the mind washing, the torture.
meeting you. falling in love. dying?
his son.
he started walking closer to bucky before the steady walk turned into a run. bucky knelt down, wrapping the boy in his arms, cradling his tiny frame in his arms protectively. his son.
"cyrus james barnes," you said with a teary smile on your face. bucky, without breaking the hug with his son, looked up at you with a smile that matched yours. "cyrus means 'sun', and i thought it was fitting. he brought me so much light and hope after you..." you choked up before he stood up with cy in his arms, walking towards you before wrapping you in the big, family hug.
"i love you so much, both of you."
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blushstories · 2 years
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a stranger's wounds - bucky barnes
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summary: an injured stranger knocks on your door in the middle of the night. how could you refuse to save him? alternatively, one time you save bucky, and one time he saves you.
word count: 4.1k warnings: swearing, f!reader, less than canon-level violence via a chase, bit of blood, hurt/comfort that goes both ways, this was supposed to be a patching wounds drabble but the plot just ran away from me i think
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Sometimes it’s nice to match the darkness outside with darkness inside. The only light comes from your laptop and a dim lamp in the corner. Images that you only half pay attention to flash across your laptop as sleep pulls you further in. It’s quiet. Almost uncomfortably quiet, but when you live alone and so far out of the way, it’s to be expected, right? 
There’s a knock at the door. It’s sharp, and mirrors the spike of anxiety in your chest. Everything tells you not to move. Don’t open the door, don’t even breathe. But then another knock comes, duller and more desperate. You sit up, curious and cautious, grabbing the baseball bat you keep next to the door. Debating with yourself for a minute, you cross your fingers that you’re not about to be the first victim in a horror movie. You hold your breath, unlocking and swinging the door open forcefully, bringing the bat up to your shoulder, prepared to strike. But what greets you at the door isn’t a burglar in a ski mask. 
A man leans against the doorframe, forehead resting on his forearm. His other arm is wrapped around his stomach, and his knees are threatening to buckle from under him. His breathing is laboured, catching in his throat as he tries to catch some air. Whatever happened to him would lead to danger, you’re sure of it. But you couldn’t find it in you to close the door in his face, not when he looks on the brink of collapse. 
Instead, you ask, “Were you followed?” 
A broken ‘no’ tumbles from his lips, and you drop the bat to the floor, kicking it away. You duck under his arm, pulling it around your shoulders as you drag him inside, closing the door with your foot. 
He grunts with each step, but you finally place him on the couch, bringing his legs up to allow him to lie flat. You fetch the first aid kit from under the kitchen sink, flipping on the light switch on your way back to the stranger. When you return, your jaw falls open: you’ve never seen so much blood in your life, and this man’s shirt was soaked with it. His eyes are blinking slowly, opening and closing in a battle to stay conscious, no doubt at war with the pain. There’s a patch of blood on the sides of his ribs, and you immediately kneel next to him. “I need to cut your shirt open, okay?” He doesn’t reply, and doesn’t protest. 
Reaching for scissors from the first aid kit, you cut from his chin to his waist, peeling away the fabric to reveal a plethora of bruises and cuts. But the most prominent are two gashes in his side, perfectly mirrored, like claws have ripped open the flesh. And they were oozing with blood. “Holy shit,” you breathe, flicking through the kit for cleaning supplies and bandages. Did you need to stitch him up? Your mind is racing at a million miles an hour, but you can’t afford to freeze up. Pressure hasn’t always been your best friend, but if you want this stranger to survive, you’d have to make it work… did you even want him to survive? How do you know he’s not a murderer, or someone who’s escaped from somewhere terrible? Once he’s healed, he could come for you! 
You glance at his face, the way his eyes squeeze shut and open to stare at the ceiling, a dazzling blue that reminds you of the ocean. Half prominent lines are etched into the outside corners of his eyes, with frown lines difficult to find at all. A face with a history of laughter, and probably love. You can’t leave him to suffer.
You quickly gather thick wads of gauze in each hand, and press them against the deepest gashes. The man winces, but you mutter rapid apologies as he becomes accustomed to the feeling. You hold it there for a few minutes, watching his abdomen tense with pain, before relaxing again. When the blood slows, you wipe it away and inspect one of the cuts, glad to see it’s not as deep as you were expecting. With an antiseptic wipe, you cleaned both cuts and fixed two large dressings onto them. His drained energy, then, came as a result of the entire beating he took. Without the time pressure of him bleeding out, you take another wipe to clear away the dirt and dried blood caked on his chest, flinching when his hand weakly grasped your wrist. It’s cold, metallic. Unexpected. But still, gentle. Scared.
“Hey, relax. It’s okay. You don’t want this to be infected, let me clean it,” you say, relieved when his hand falls back to his side. Most of the cuts don’t need to be covered, but a few of them are easily fixed with a plaster. The only ones you have, though, are Disney themed ones. You hope he doesn’t mind having Nemo, Dory and Crush plasters.
When you finish, tidy away the rubbish and slide the kit underneath the coffee table for easy access later, just in case. He seems to have drifted into a sleep, though. You’re unsure whether this is good or bad, but decide to leave him with a glass of water and some painkillers for when he wakes up, and move into the kitchen to make some kind of dinner. You’re sure that whatever he’s been through today is unspeakable, so maybe home cooked food could help him feel even slightly better. 
A safe bet is always pasta. A tomato ragu and spaghetti is your source of comfort if you need something homely and easy to whip up, so you place a pot of water on the stove to boil and begin cutting your onions, garlic, carrots and celery. 
The sauce begins to bubble fairly quickly after you pour the tins of tomato into the pan, and you eyeball some herbs and seasonings before reaching for the lid. Leaning over to cover it, a floorboard creaks at the back of your mind. You know the stranger must be awake, but turning and seeing him closer than you expect makes you cry out in surprise and involuntarily lower your arm. It’s as if you can hear your skin sizzle against the pan, the white hot burn drawing your attention away from the man in front of you before you drop the lid onto the pan and rush to the sink. His eyes go wide when he sees you flinch away from the stovetop, and only begins to move when you flip on the tap, drenching your arm in cold water. 
“I’m so sorry,” he says, voice crackly and hoarse, maybe overused. You suck air in through your teeth when the cold water meets your hot skin, but ultimately shake your head. “No, don’t worry. ‘M glad you’re awake,” you say, casting a look at the food on the stove, eyes wide at the pasta on the brink of overflowing. “The pasta, quick!”
He whips around and notices the pot as starchy bubbles trickle down the sides. He turns the heat knob off with a flick of his wrist, and with one hand takes the heavy pan off of the stove. He brings it over to the sink, and carefully tips out the steaming water in a thin stream as far from your arm as possible. You smile at him gratefully before he replaces the pot on the stove, and then walks back to you. “Can I see it?” He says, clearing his throat at the persistent crackle. You look at him warily, but his expression is sincere; his eyes are brighter and far more awake, a hint at the life hidden behind them. “Should you be walking so soon?” He shrugs. “I’ve walked off much worse.” 
Thinking there’s no harm in it, you turn off the tap and offer him your arm. He takes it gently, bringing it closer to his face. He smells of gunpowder and leather, like a cabin in the woods. “Just a scratch,” he confirms, nodding slightly and passing you a clean towel to wipe off the water. “Did you make all this now?” He continues. You nod, opening a cupboard for the bowls. “You looked like you needed it.”
Plating the food was quick, and you put both bowls on the table within five minutes. He sits opposite you hesitantly, and you only notice he’s ditched his shirt now. You glance at the dressings, pleased that they don’t need replacing, and then you divert your eyes to the bowl in front of you. You’re thankful the food tastes good, but the lonely sound of your fork clinking against the ceramic alerts you to the stranger not eating. You’re caught in his stare, eyes fixed on you intensely enough for you to pick a leg up from the floor and hug it. “You okay?” You ask. He shakes his head quickly. “Yeah. Just, um. Thanks. Thank you. I’m Bucky.” “Nice to meet you, Bucky. Y/N. Me, that’s me.” He nods in acknowledgement with a shy smile and finally takes a bite. You’re glad you could help.
“So. Um. Just to check: you’re not like, a criminal, right? Nobody’s gonna turn up at my door with a gun and threaten me?” You ask. His eyebrows crease in concern, but he shakes his head seriously. “No… no. I wouldn’t do that. Please don’t worry about that. I cover my tracks.” “From who?” “What?” “From who? Who could do that to someone?” You say, gesturing to his wounds. He sighs and bites the insides of his lips.
“I can’t tell you that, Y/N. It’s safer that way.” “I’m not sure that’s as comforting as you think it is, Bucky. But alright, I guess. Maybe I don’t wanna know anyway.”
He agrees under his breath, and the rest of your meal is silent.
You usher him back to the couch after your food, and sit on the floor next to his chest. “How do you feel?” You ask. “Like crap,” he says, groaning a little as he shifts onto his back. “I don’t want to be a pain in the ass, but–” “You can stay as long as you need, big guy.” “Really?” He asks, uncertain. “‘Course. You’re harmless, I think – Don’t prove me wrong,” you point a finger at him and turn to look at his face, a little pride shooting through you at his amused smirk. 
“I won’t. Thank you, you know, for everything tonight. I was lucky to meet you.”
A warmth blossoms in your chest. A light, beautiful warmth that made you glad to have helped him. You sit back down, and wonder where on earth this man could have come from. “Hey, did you–” a gentle, almost imperceptible snore interrupts your train of thought. Smiling to yourself, you stand up as quietly as you can. Maybe tomorrow you can ask him more questions.
In the morning, though, he’s gone. There’s two twenty dollar bills and a note on the fridge: Bucky Barnes and a phone number underneath. Maybe not every stranger is dangerous after all. Certainly has no stranger ever left in your heart a rift so deep.
*
Even months after your encounter, your thoughts return to Bucky Barnes. His speedy recovery could certainly raise eyebrows, but you put it down to his wounds not being as serious as you thought. His career certainly left a lot to the imagination. Was he a cop? A secret agent? Whatever he does, it’s not your average job. 
Maybe it’s the lack of closure that makes you call him. Maybe it’s the shadows that move outside your windows at night, a millisecond of something glinting between the trees before disappearing completely. The snap of a twig outside your bedroom window, hushed whispers that melt into the breeze when you enter your little house.
“Hello?” His voice drenches you in a certain familiarity, a lost memory of safety, that’s also brand new at the same time. “Who is this? How did you get this number?”
Deep breath.
“Uh, yeah, hi, Bucky? It’s Y/N.” “Oh,” his tone shifts, more curious and pleasantly surprised by your call. “Y/N. How’s it going?” “Good, yeah. Good to know this number works. How about you?” You peer through the curtains, a panicked heat rushing to your face when you spot a screen turn off in the woods. A tablet, or phone? Whatever it is, you know it can’t float on its own. “Y/N?” You drop the curtain and crouch under the window, wishing your lights were off. “Sorry, what?” “I said I was in town this week, wondering if you wanted to, maybe, meet for breakfast?” If you weren’t breathless before, you certainly are now. “That–yes! It’s a date. Well, not a date date, unless, uhm…it could be if…” Bucky’s amused chuckle came through the phone. “Anyway, Bucky. What is it you said you did for work?” You reach for the bat propped up against the door, holding it tightly in one hand and willing back tears. 
“I didn’t. Why?” It sounds like he’s shifted in his chair, and a muffled voice in the background of the call sounds scolding. But Bucky brushes it off, telling them to “Wait a damn minute,” before focusing on you.
“Okay, so hypothetically. Key word. What would you do if someone was staking out your house every night and you were worried about a home invasion?” There’s a pause over the line, long enough for you to pull it from your ear to check it was still connected. “Bucky?” You press, a little more urgently. “Wha– did something happen? Are you safe?” “Yeah, I’m fine, just– I would love to hear your answer to the question,” you say, exhaling shakily away from the microphone. 
Bucky Barnes is many things, and stupid is not one of them.
“You stay low. Crawl if you have to. If this…hypothetical person knew that the back exit was clear, they should leave. Quickly.” Immediately, you tuck your phone between your ear and shoulder and make your way to the back door, mindful to stand up away from the windows. “And if it isn’t?” You dare to ask, despite the thin crack of the curtains showing no signs of life in the forest. Bucky inhales sharply on the other end of the line. “I–I don’t know.” 
Your heart falls through your stomach, the floor, all the way to the centre of the Earth. “You don’t?” Your voice cracks. Bucky’s sigh is tortured. “Is the back clear?” “I don’t know. I think so. I can’t hear anything. Only from the front.” “Then run. I’m so sorry,” you hope you aren’t working each other up for nothing. “Sorry? Why are you–?” A loud thud hit your front door, wood cracking in several places. “Oh, fuck.”  You pull the phone from your ear, throw the back door open in front of you, and run. 
You dart for the trees and you can’t stop running. Slipping your phone into a pocket, you dodge around trees standing in your way. Your lungs burn and every fibre of muscle in your body aches, you can’t fucking breathe, but you have to keep running. Whoever’s in your house isn’t there for a friendly visit, and you don’t want to find out what Bucky has to do with it.
But you’re not a marathon runner, and before long, the roots of the trees and slippery leaves cause your stamina to dwindle, using up every last shred of energy that you can muster to follow Bucky’s instructions, until each time your foot meets earth drains energy from your very soul. But you can’t fucking stop.
Not when leaves begin to crunch behind you. For every step forwards you take, your pursuer takes two, their steps more audible by the second, making you want to scream until your lungs give out.
You take a sharp right through the trees, amazed that despite the low lighting you’re able to maintain your speed. Your shoes are not built for running, your feet long past numb and moisture seeping in through the seams, meanwhile a dull and heavy sort of pain begins to wind its way through your leg muscles, ankles threatening to twist against uneven ground.
You didn’t have it in you to look behind you, stumbling over a tree root that you missed and struggling to regain your momentum. A mistake that could cost you your life. 
The heavy thumping of your pursuer’s footsteps draw closer with each of yours, their laboured breaths clearer and clearer by the second, as if you could feel it brush against your ear…
Shit, shit, shit–
A loud cry rips from your throat as a determined weight crashes into your back, sending you straight to the ground. Stars explode behind your eyes when your forehead meets the base of the tree in front of you, and you can taste damp leaves and moist soil. A groan emerges from deep within you as your hand instinctively rubs against your squeezed-shut eyes, before a rough hand grabs you by the hair and flips you over. A broad figure straddles your hips as you gasp for air. 
The dark figure above you wears a large hoodie, the lack of light makes any features indistinguishable. 
They caught you. They fucking caught you. 
One hand grips your throat, hindering your ability to calm your heaving chest, and the other disappears behind his back to collect a compact butterfly knife, which he lightly scrapes against your jawline.
“The Winter Soldier. Where is he?” You don’t have to see his face to know he’s spitting out the words through gritted teeth. You shake your head, not understanding. “Who?” You choke out. The man laughs mockingly. “‘Who?’ she says. Such a pretty face… you want to keep it, ma cherie?” The knife taunts you, barely visible, but its presence is blinding. Your fingers twitch. “Fuck you,” grabbing his wrist leads him to panic and nick your cheek, but the rest of the momentum circles around; you guide it into the middle of his inner thigh.
His scream echoes through the trees, sending bile up your throat. But you shove his writhing body off of you with two hard shoves and scramble to your feet. You don’t care which direction you’re running in, just that you end up miles away from this place. Maybe you could hitchhike. Maybe a motel would take pity on you… drenched in blood? No fucking way, they’d think you murdered someone.
Your feet scream at you to stop and climb a tree, hide in a bush, anything to just stop and rest, but you don’t know how many of them there are, nor how close they are. You spit dirt to the side, running with a clenched jaw and broken, scratchy breaths. 
A hand over your mouth muffles your next cry, stealing any breath from your lungs as you’re bundled into a hard, immovable chest, enveloped by arms that hold you like a vice. You hit the arm around your stomach repeatedly, breathing heavily through your nose. Its grip tightens around you quickly, and you don’t know how to get out of–
Gunpowder and leather. 
Bucky hushes you, lips brushing against the shell of your ear, “It’s me, it’s okay. You’re okay, stay quiet if you can. Deep breaths. You’re okay. I’m here now,” your muscles melt at the sound of his voice, allowing you to drop your guard. “I’m going to move my hand now, okay?” You nod against it, tears escaping down your cheeks. 
When he moves his hand, you drink the crisp evening air with certainly unattractive gasps. But he holds you tight with his other arm, guiding your face into his shoulder, the crook of his neck as your anxiety is released in broken, strangled sobs. They’re muffled by his jacket, hot and sticky, and his hand strokes from the top of your head to the back of your neck. “You’re okay. It’s almost over. Can you hang in there for me?” He whispers. You take a deep breath and pull away, mumbling a quiet “Yeah.”
His face is barely visible in the darkness, but the contrast of his dark circles with the rest of his face concerns you. But he’s preoccupied with the slice on your cheek, hands cupping your jaw like it was a habit, eyes studying your face. “Anywhere else?” He asks, thumb swiping at the thin trickle of blood on the side of your face and pushing you back to scan your body. He swears under his breath when he notices the dark splotch of blood at the bottom of your shirt, hand scrambling to put pressure on the wound.
“Not mine,” you say tiredly. Bucky looks up at you and back at your shirt, silently asking permission to see, if only to calm his racing mind. You pull your shirt up slightly to reveal clean, unmarked skin, and watch a weight lift from his shoulders. “You should see the other guy.” Fingertips finding the tree behind you, you lean against it for support while your breath slowly comes back to you. “You got here fast.” He glances around, checking between the trees for danger. “Yeah, like I said, I was…in the area. Shit, they got you,” his eyes land on your forehead. “I’m sorry.” “Again, why are you sorry? You didn’t do this,” he looks at his feet. “Right?” “Of course not, I’m not one of them, I–” he stops mid speech, listening to the darkness with a hand held up. 
He motions for you to follow him, taking your wrist and encouraging you to grab the fabric at the back of his jacket, to stay close. Slowly, he navigates through the trees. Each time he stops to listen, your heart leaps into your throat. You swallow it down when he continues, hoping your steps don’t give you away. Before long, the trees start to thin out, and between them you see a black car with tinted windows, the door slightly ajar.
“There, let’s go,” he takes your hand in his and runs. He’s fast, his strides much quicker and larger than yours as he drags you behind him. You find it difficult to keep up, wanting to lie down and not move for a week, but the back door flies open and you’re being helped inside by frantic hands around your waist. The door doesn’t even close behind Bucky before he shouts, “Drive, Sam!” Your head hits the seat behind you with the force of acceleration, and you exhale in relief.
*
You drift into a faint consciousness, distantly aware of your position in someone’s arms, being jostled against their chest. You’re lowered onto something soft, and your shoes are peeled off of your sore feet. There’s something damp on your face, like a washcloth maybe, that disappears almost as quickly as it arrives. A blanket is pulled to your chin, inviting you to sleep again. 
*
You stir awake slowly, hesitant to face the throbbing in your skull and aches that take root deep into your bones. When you can see clearly, you notice someone slumped in a chair next to the bed, a black jacket wonkily covering their torso. You sit up, and the movement alerts him to your presence as he blinks himself awake.
“Hi.” “Hey,” he pulls himself upright with strained, sleepy grunts.“Were you here all night?” You ask. He runs a hand down his face, past his tired eyes and stroking the stubble on his jaw. But his eyes flit from one of your eyes to the other, and he shakes his head. “No. I, uh, couple hours ago.” He’s lying and you know it, but you don’t call him out on it, not when the circles below his eyes have darkened in colour. “You feeling okay?” “Totally. Few cuts, couple more bruises, I’ll live… thanks to you,” you say. He stands up, makes his way over to the edge of the bed, and perches on it. “No, not thanks to me. You did that yourself. I just brought the getaway car,” he says. You thank him for it. “Where are we?” “My place. But, uh, if that makes you uncomfortable we can find a hotel for you somewhere, or something,” he trips over his words, built like houses without foundations, afraid to scare you off. “Oh, no. That’s okay. You’re harmless, remember? Thanks,” you remind him of the night you met. An amused smile flickers over his face. “Now, how about that breakfast?”
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thesugarclubs-blog · 1 year
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The Safehouse - AU Bucky Barnes x OC
warnings: post-TFATWS Bucky, one bed, hurt.comfort, smut, 18+
word count: 10k
WP: https://www.wattpad.com/story/328379898-the-safehouse
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Masterlist
Juniper stretched out her neck the best she could in the passenger seat of the undercover police car as she brushed the tangles out of her messy brown hair. Her long legs had started to tingle and her butt was numb from being in the car for twelve hours. She wiggled her toes before pressing them against the rubber sole of her converse and pushing it free of her heel. 
She scowled. Her bottom lip jutted out upon seeing that her one sock, the cute lavender one with the cat on it, sadly had a hole in it and she could see the chipped red nail polish on her last three toes. The lump in her throat, the horrible one that had been lodged there since the day she watched John Walker shoot that man in the back of the head unprovoked, wouldn’t dissolve. 
Her stomach growled forcing her out of her silent bubble of safety, she looked over at him and anxiety flooded her. His scruffy jaw tensed tightly the second she cast her blue eyes on him. His gloved fingers gripped tighter on the steering wheel as her stomach growled louder filling the silence between them. 
“I’m driving you to the safe house in Washington, I’m not your friend.” 
He hadn’t spoken a word to her since he had taken her into possession. She wasn’t sure he would stop to feed her even if she asked nicely. Juniper went to open her mouth but was left silent when he turned to look at her. “Whatever it is. No.” He snapped. “We’re an hour from the first safe house, we aren’t stopping.”
Juniper sighed before she spoke but her stomach grumbled audibly before she could say anything. His piercing blue eyes turned to face her, a look of annoyance marred his rugged features. 
 ''Alright, let's get some food in you before I get accused of letting you die of starvation'' he said his voice low. 
Somehow the tone of his voice got under her skin and a wave of goosebumps formed on her skin. Fucking hell it's cold. He might not let me die of starvation but she might as well freeze to death.
“Thanks,” she muttered bitterly, turning her head to stare out of the window once more.
The highway was lined with pine trees, their branches laden with snow. Through the gaps in their trunks, she caught turquoise flashes of water, a lake she presumed, the grey of the sky reflecting from its still surface. It would be beautiful here, Juniper thought, if she were here for a different reason and with someone, anyone, else.
Juniper pulled her hoodie sleeves over her hands to try to keep any and all body heat enclosed. How the hell is he not cold? Juniper thought to herself. Her escort had turned off the heat about four hours ago and it seemed he wasn’t going to turn it back on anytime soon. 
Juniper decided that maybe talking would take her mind off the tragic scene she had witnessed and her continuously growling stomach, “So, quick question, we’ve been driving for twelve hours, and the last time I saw a sign for food was about five hours ago. Where exactly are we going to find food out in the middle of nowhere?”
She turned her attention back to the road in front of them when he didn’t answer her. There were hardly any cars on the road. 
“You know, if I had known we would be driving for hours I would have packed some food. It’s kind of hard to pack a bag without any warning or details about where I am going or for how long” she said with a hint of annoyance in her voice.
"Sure princess," he sneered, his icy blues turned in her direction for a second causing her face to heat up, "next time your life is in danger, we'll be sure to let you know beforehand so you can pack food." 
The car sped up a little before slowing down as he finished, leaving Juniper flustered in anger at him and the situation she found herself in.
Bringing her hand up to the window for the fourth time within twenty minutes, she wiped the foggy window clean in hopes of distracting herself from her hunger. 
“How much farther do we have to go? There’s no possible way that this isn’t a dead end,” Juniper slumped against the seat. 
The man beside her sighed as he shot a sharp glance in her direction. 
“Are you ever not complaining?” He asked. His voice was rough, probably from the lack of talking, and Juniper twisted in her seat to face him a little better.
“I’ll have you know I’m a ray of fucking sunshine when I’m not starving… or in a car with Sergeant Mood-killer who won’t even let me put music on… for twelve whole hours.”
He clenched his jaw at her remark. She watched him carefully as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat while he clutched the steering wheel harder, his leather gloves squeaking against it. 
"My job is to keep you safe, not to satisfy your whims. Which means I need to keep my senses sharp and I can't do that listening to whatever mmbop crap you wanna listen to."
“Maybe that’s what you and you’re friends listen to in your free time since you already seem so much fun to be around, but it’s not what I would prefer when I think of music, Mr. “I wear gloves to drive a car”. What are you? 87?”
“Can you shut up?” He responded annoyed. His jaw was clenching so hard she was afraid he would crack it…but on the other hand…
“No, I won’t shut up. I’m bored, hungry, tired, and cold! Sorry that I’m not a robot like you. I am a human and I need those things like food and sleep once in a while!” 
He didn’t respond. All he did was slow down the car, making Juniper hope they had arrived at the safe house. But to her surprise, he stopped the car on the side of the road. 
“What are you doing?” She asked confused.
He didn’t answer and got out with a blast of freezing cold air, slamming the door shut behind him as Juniper sat in shock. She watched as he flexed his left hand a few times, clenching it into a fist before opening the door and getting back in. 
“D-done with your temper t-tantrum?” Juniper sniped, although it was slightly ruined by her chattering teeth.
He narrowed his icy gaze on her face, “you should try insulting me once your lips stop trembling, tough guy.”
She pouted at him and the muscle in his jaw tensed as he leaned into her space, “my only job is to keep you alive until you can put a man behind bars. It is hard to do that when I want to kill you myself. Shut up and let me drive.” 
Juniper could feel the heat rolling off his body. Sandalwood and cinnamon filled her senses and she fought to keep her cold lips still as he scolded her. He leaned back into his seat, satisfied with the fear he had instilled. Proud of himself. A horrible clinking sound, followed by a long painful muffle screeched sounded as he forced the keys into the ignition. 
"Fuck. Of course, this happens," he growled hitting his gloved hand on the steering wheel letting out a string of curses under his breath. Somehow how seeing him mad made him look infuriatingly attractive. 
"If you move, I'll tie you to your seat," he grumbled before getting out of the car. 
"We are in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, why would I leave?" Juniper retorted ironically.
She heard the snow crumple under his heavy footsteps as he rounded the front of the car and popped the hood.  She couldn’t see him from where she sat shivering in the car but she sure as hell heard him when he swore loudly and slammed the hood back down.  The car rocked when his boot connected with the tire and she let out an involuntary yelp when he drove his right fist into the hood once, twice, and a third time, leaving craters in the smooth black metal.
For the second time, Juniper is hit with a blast of ice-cold air as the agent gets back in the driver's seat. 
“FUCK”, he yells as he pounds the steering wheel, bending it with the force of the hit. 
Juniper gasped, “LANGUAGE! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?!” 
At a time like this, humor was the only thing that kept Juniper from having an absolute breakdown. Apparently, that wasn’t the case for her escort. 
His blue eyes pierced into her as he whipped his head to stare at her. “Get out.” He said sternly. 
“Wha-what?” Juniper stuttered as her eyes widened.
"Did you not hear me the first time?"
"You need to calm down, dude."
"I am calm," he snarled through gritted teeth. "You know what would make me a lot calmer, is if you did as you're told, dude."
Juniper shivered beneath the weight of his gaze but got out of the car. She didn't want to mess with him, or piss him off after he just dented the hood. She shut the door and crossed her arms over her chest to conserve her body heat. She could feel his eyes on her.
"You cold?" He asked, his voice clipped.
She didn't answer, still shaken by this violent outburst. Her escort sighed and shrugged off his jacket, holding it out for her. She sneered at it and he huffed.
"Take it." His voice softened, along with the permanent scowl he seemed to wear. Slowly, Juniper grabbed the coat, but apparently, even that was too slow for him and he wrapped it around her shoulders, zipping it up. She smelled leather and the cinnamon from his cologne. He sighed softly and looked around. "We have to walk. Car's busted."
"You sure?" She asked with a raised brow. "You wanna hit it again? Maybe roundhouse kick it a few times? I heard mechanics do that a lot."
He rolled his eye at her comment and walked around to the back of the car and opened up the boot and grabbed his bag along with hers. He closed the boot and started to walk along the road.  She began to follow him and reached out her hand.
“I can carry my bag, I don’t need you to carry it for me,” she said as she caught up with him. He handed her bag over in silence as he continued to walk. “So are we just going to leave the car here or…”
“I’ll call someone when we get to where we are going… hopefully they will be able to fix it,” he replied with a sigh.
“And where are we going exactly and how long will it take? Because I rather not be walking out on the road when it gets dark and even colder,” she said trying to keep up with his pace damn this dude could walk fast.
“You’ll see,” is all he had to offer. Juniper sighed as she rolled her eyes- this guy was going to make this ten times harder than it should be. 
In hopes of entertaining herself, she looked up at all the wildlife around them; the beautiful pine trees with their branches covered in snow, the few birds that actually liked the cold decorating the trees with their nests. 
It was beautiful as the late-day sun made the snow glisten with a sparkle similar to that of a diamond. 
Where ever they were going, it was quiet and peaceful- something she could get used to. 
“So…what’s your favorite food?” She asked, her chipper voice breaking the silence.
“Pizza,” he muttered, voice lost to the wind as he marched ahead. Juniper skipped to keep up, huffing and puffing as the cold air hit the back of her throat. 
“Booooring,” she breathed out, smirking when he growled in frustration. “What kind of pizza?” 
“Listen, sweetheart. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you this, but we’re not gonna do the whole ‘getting to know you’ shit. Stop talking, keep up, and stay alert. You talk again, I’m throwing you over my shoulder.” 
Juniper stared up at him, eyes drawn to where his jaw ticked before they tracked up to his mouth and the way he clicked his tongue against his teeth. 
“Yes, sir.”
They continued their trek along the side of the road for what felt like ages for Juniper as she tried to keep up with her escort's long strides. She felt like her legs were going to give out, both from exhaustion and the cold seeping through her clothes. No matter how many times she'd rebundled herself into his coat she just couldn't shake it, all the while this man walked around completely unfazed at the dropping temperature. At one point she felt his cutting gaze on her as she adjusted the coat and her bag once again, she assumed the scratching and rubbing of the fabrics was also annoying to him. She cast her eyes downward and continued walking. This was the worst thing that could have happened to her, they could have at least assigned her someone with compassion.
She began to feel a little dizzy and just as she was about to ask him how much longer it would be, he stopped. He turned to her, giving her a once-over at the sight of her slumped shoulders. For just a split second she thought she saw a glimpse of worry in his eyes. 
"It's through here. Just a few more steps, okay?" He voiced as he nodded towards a barely there path between a string of cedars.
The sudden bout of dizziness grew stronger and she thought if she opened her mouth, everything would leave her stomach right away, so she answered with a quick nod, looking down at the white snow beneath her feet. 
“You okay?” He furrowed his brows.
She didn’t respond, so he took a step closer to her. 
“Talk to me.” His tone was commanding, but it felt like he was concerned about her.
Juniper swallowed before she answered. “What is your name?” She was still looking at her feet, covering her stomach with her arms. 
“You answer my question first-“
“What. Is. Your. Name?” 
He sighed before he answered, a little confused by her sudden change in behavior. “James.” his voice was soft. 
She nodded, “Okay…James?” She made a quick pause before she continued. “I’m not feeling good.” 
He let out a deep breath before he stepped closer. She yelped in surprise when she felt his strong arms lifting her up into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way.
“What? I didn’t mean- you don’t have to carry me, I just needed to rest,” Juniper said quietly, unable to stop herself from snuggling into his warm embrace.
“Better to get there faster,” James said gruffly, staring straight ahead, jaw ticking again. He didn’t seem to be under any strain at all, just annoyance. 
“Thank you anyways,” Juniper whispered, and she felt his arms tighten around her briefly before James cleared his throat roughly. 
“It’s nothin’,” he rumbled just as a cabin came into view.
She followed him as he slowed down his steps through the snow-covered path. The trees interlock each other as if walking through a tunnel. He stopped them just outside the porch. It may not have been much for the world but for Juniper, it felt like walking into a new untouched world. It looked picturesque with the cabin that was nestled back in the woods. The snow lay like a thick blanket on the roof, the snow barely hanging on the edges with a brick chimney. She could already see herself sitting in front of the fireplace with her hands reaching out to finally replace the cold with warmth again.
“Is this it?” She asked as she looked up at him. 
He narrowed his eyes in front, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “No, the Hilton is just behind it. Do you think you can make it?”
Juniper huffed and rolled her eyes. She became acutely aware of her arms wrapped around his neck and felt a blush creep across her face. “Put me down.”
James said nothing, just suddenly dropping his arm from underneath her body. She felt her Converse land against the snow, sinking slightly into the pillowy white. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, the sudden loss of James’ body heat had her trembling. She exhaled deeply and watched the cloud of her breath fill the air as she stared up at the porch. 
The safe house. Her new digs for the next… however long. With this giant, muscular jerk. Great.
“Let’s go,” he said gruffly. He put his hand on the small of her back and ushered her up the wooden steps. The planks creaked under their weight as if they haven’t been used in years. James reached up towards the porch light and Juniper winced as she heard the crunch of spider webs. He procured a single key and shoved it in the deadbolt, pushing the front door open. He stood behind her as her shoulders trembled, and pursed his lips.
“Alright, princess. Get in.”
“You know I have a name right?” Juniper muttered as she stepped inside the cabin with a small push from James. 
The wind blew against the side of the house and she could feel the draft through the walls. The furniture had a thin layer of dust clouded around them and it reeked of must. 
She shuddered again feeling the cold seep further into her bones. Juniper set down her bag, coughing slightly at the dust cloud that formed around her. 
James pulled the old door closed and rounded the old green couch that took up most of the living space, tossing his bag onto the cushion. She stood, watching him as he inspected the fireplace and then the wood pile next to it. 
“It’s not much wood,” he sighed, tossing a few logs into the fireplace, “do me a favor darlin’, check the closets for blankets, paper, anything we can use to keep warm.” 
She stood, almost frozen in place her legs ached and her stomach still growling. James glanced up at her after not hearing her move, his eyes a bright ocean blue against the harsh darkness around them, “Juniper? Can you do that?” He asked but it sounded more like a command.
She curled up her toes in her wet shoes and bit her lip, staring around the cabin. She had stepped out of a winter wonderland and back into the horror movie that her life had become. 
“Alright,” he stood wiping his hands on his pants. “I know that you’re tired, hungry, and scared but if I don’t get you warm now, you’re going to wish being hungry was your only problem.”
“I get that being an asshole is your whole personality but some of us can’t compartmentalize our needs,” Juniper whined but James didn’t falter in his order of her. “Fine, blankets, paper.” 
“Good girl,” he smirked and suddenly she wasn’t so cold anymore as a wildfire spread through her belly. She turned her back on him, wandering around the cabin using the tiny bit of sunlight that peered through the dust-caked windows until she found a closet. The doorknob and hinges were covered in a thick coating of dust and webs. "Spiders," she shuddered, kicking her foot against the ground like a child, "I fucking hate spiders."
She pulled the sleeve over her fingers and twisted the doorknob just hoping that the spider had long fled the rotted wood.
She found a stack of old newspapers which she tried to pick up as a spider fled the stack over her feet. Juniper let out a high-pitched screech that sounded through the whole cabin.
Seconds later, James barged into the room.
"What's going on ?" a slight concern laced his deep voice.
Juniper's face marred with disgust. 
"Fucking spider." She murmured under her breath.
“You’re kiddin’ me, right?” He said with disdain, frowning anew.
“Look,” she shuddered, “everyone has limits and this is mine.  Are you gonna protect me, or are you gonna keep frowning at me?”
“Can you at least grab the blankets?” He asked.
“I fuckin’ told Sam I wasn’t the right guy for this. Shoulda asked fuckin’ Torres,” James grumbled under his breath as he picked up the stack of paper.
James walked back to the fireplace again, leaning down, and began to stuff kindling and starter paper around the larger logs. 
Juniper looked around her and saw the doorway to a small, kitchen. “Finally”, she breathed a sigh of relief. She stepped towards a row of cabinets next to a refrigerator she was sure was as old as her grandma. With caution, she opened the first cabinet to be greeted with no spiders and canned food goods. 
Her stomach growled again as she grabbed a can of fruit cocktail and spam, not her favorite food, but they would have to do. She began rummaging through the drawers looking for a can opener and a spoon.
“What are you doing?” James appeared in the doorway, a look of annoyance still on his face, “Do you always make so much noise?”
She sneered at him, her hunger bleeding into pure agitation. 
"Oh, I'm sorry, do regular sounds that humans make bother you, Your Highness? I'm looking for a can opener."
James rolled his eyes and walked toward her, pulling a knife out of nowhere. She gasped and put her hands up as he flipped it in his hand and then grabbed the can. He bit down on his bottom lip as he used the tip of the knife to dig beneath the metal lid. It popped off in an instant and he slammed it back down on the counter.
"Don't say I never did nothin' for ya, princess."
"What about a spoon... or a fork?!" She squeaked. 
"You've got perfectly good forks on the ends of your arms," he called as he strode back toward the fire to start working on it.
Juniper crossed her arms over her chest, scowling at him.
"Are you going to be an ass this entire time?"
He looked over his shoulder, his eyes glittering. Her knees knocked together and she had to lean against the counter to keep herself from falling over. She could feel the flush in her cheeks and her throat clenched as James flashed her a cocky grin. 
"It's my specialty, sugar."
Juniper stuck her tongue out at him once he had turned his back to her. She decided she was too hungry to look for a fork and opted to use her fingers to eat the canned fruit.  Leaving the kitchen she decided to explore the rest of the cabin. When she came across the bedroom she found that there was only one bed. 
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said. 
“What?” James called from the living room. 
“I’ve read too many books to know what this means. And a lot of fics on AO3. Nope, not happening” she said, shaking her head back and forth. 
“Huh?” James asked.
“There’s only one bed…” Juniper said. 
“And?” James asked coming into the room.
"And?! It's not happening, mister!" Juniper snickered at him, only to be met with his vacant stare. 
"What?" He huffed out after a beat, confusion mixing with irritation on his face. 
She marched to the bed, canned fruit in hand as she planted herself in the middle of the bed, cross legged and staring at him while picking a pineapple slice and talking around the bite in her mouth;
"I'm taking the bed, and there will be no sharing it or warming up together. No sir. None." 
She swallowed the piece of fruit as he marched out of the room, mumbling to himself.
“Hey!” She launched a piece of pineapple at him, hitting him square on the back of the head and he froze as it made impact, “I need confirmation that you’re not gonna try anything.” 
“I’m not gonna try anythin’, sugar, don’t you worry.” 
Juniper huffed, “well now I’m just gonna think you don’t find me attractive.” 
“Jesus Christ,” James stalked back into the bedroom, stopping in front of her. Her eye line fell level with his chest, the hard muscles pulling his shirt tight as inhaled deeply and let out a heavy breath. “It would be unprofessional of me to comment on your looks, Juniper.” 
“But you kinda want to, don’t ya?” She grinned.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated huff. 
"I don't want anything and I'm not entertaining this conversation anymore." 
"Oh come on, James. Indulge a girl a little, one compliment won't kill you." she voiced peering at him through her lashes. 
He let his arm fall to his side as he stepped forward, pressing his hands onto the mattress as he leaned down to meet her gaze. Juniper swallowed slightly as he inched closer to her. Their noses were just inches apart, ocean blue eyes boring into hers, his breath fanning her face as he responded. 
"You're not sharing the bed, I'm not indulging you. With compliments or otherwise. Eat your fruit and behave, Juniper." 
Her brows knit together, her brain failing to put words together at the moment as he brought himself back to his height and turned back to leave the room.
“Jerk,” she muttered to herself, enjoying the rest of her fruit. 
The next couple of hours were exhausting. She didn’t know what to do besides walking around the house and looking at the spider webs, giving them names to have at least something that makes the time go by faster. After a couple of hours, she got tired and decided to lie on her bed. Bucky was still at the fireplace, heating the cabin up a little, though the warmth didn’t reach the bedroom. He looked through some blankets to make sure they were free of spiders before he went to the bedroom, laying the blankets onto the bed. 
“Here,” he said softly. Looking up at her he saw that she was changing her wet sweater. 
He cleared his throat and looked away, giving her privacy.
After she changed into a dry t-shirt, she voiced a soft  “Thank you,” which made him turn to look at her again. 
He responded with a quick nod and left the room.
Juniper stepped over to the pile of blankets, picking one up and delicately shaking it out, relieved when no spiders fell out. As she wrapped it around her shoulders, she heard James’ voice through the open door. 
“…and then the damn car broke down! Don’t laugh Sam, it wasn’t funny- she was exposed, she could’ve died.” Juniper shuddered and started to turn away when there was silence but James spoke again. “Ha ha Sam, you just might have to stop me still, she’s a goddamn pain in my ass!”
Her shoulders sunk down, the blanket fully enveloping her frame. Hot tears filled her eyes and before she could recognize herself as upset, they spilled over. Her cheeks burned as her thoughts spiraled. She wanted to run into the other room and smack James, giving him a piece of her mind. She could still hear him talking to Sam- probably still complaining about her. 
She didn’t ask to see what she saw. She didn’t ask for her entire life to be upended. She certainly didn’t ask to be stuck in the middle of the snowy woods with Agent Sunshine.
Juniper felt the flames of white-hot anger deep in her belly. She felt the words bubbling up in her throat- this guy was being such a dick, and she was gonna let him know-
“G-goodnight,” she said suddenly. She heard James stop talking. A little louder, more confident now- “Goodnight, James.”
She didn’t give him a chance to respond before she walked forward and closed the bedroom door, hearing a firm click. The blanket sagged from her shoulders as she collapsed on the bed in a heap of tears, finally letting the reality of her situation sink in.
Juniper woke to the sound of something thudding against the side of the house. Her eyes shot open as the images of yesterday started flooding back in. She quickly sat up, her heart hammering in her chest as she wrapped the blanket from last night further around her frame. 
“J—James?” She sucked in a burst of cold air when the thudding suddenly stopped. It had to be him, they were in the middle of nowhere. Walker couldn’t have found her so soon. But what if he did. 
“James?” She asked again, a little louder this time as she reached for the bedroom door handle. Her fingers wrapped around the frigid metal before turning it carefully. 
Juniper poked her head out, her eyes searching the room. She finally let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding when she saw him standing in the doorway, an arm full of damp logs, kicking his boots against the threshold to rid them of the matted snow. 
Crystal blue eyes fell on her face, his brows furrowing for a moment but softened as she opened the door fully. 
“Morning’.” He muttered, his voice raspy and still full of sleep. 
“Morning,” she whispered watching him move about the room stacking the wood against the fireplace. 
The tension between them was thick, and his words from last night still hung in the air. She’s a pain in my ass. 
“How long are we going to be here?” 
James sighed, glancing up at her like suddenly her presence was a burden, “I don’t know, June. Probably until Walker isn’t planning on hurting you anymore.”
“I would appreciate it if you didn’t joke about that,” she huddled her arms around herself as she walked toward the edge of the couch and sat on the arm. He rolled his eyes and went back to stacking wood, this time within the fireplace.
 “It may be normal for someone like you but I’ve never seen…” she stopped shaking the images of the blood pooling on the ground at her feet from her mind. 
He paused his process of stacking the wood, his shoulders tensing at her words. She didn’t expect an apology for his crass remarks over the last twenty-four hours, but he could at least stop making them. 
“Torres dropped off a vehicle this morning, I’m going to go into town and get proper food and supplies,” he started, as his lighter clicked to life and the fireplace roared to life. The dull flickering illuminated his face as he turned on his heels to look at her again and like he was reading her mind cut her off before she could speak. “You’ll stay here and don't bother arguing you can’t be seen in town.”
Juniper sighed loud enough for him to hear.
“Stay by the fire, inside Juniper.” He warned. 
She wouldn’t win this fight but she could at least make his life harder, she spun around and stomped back to her room, slamming the door behind her. 
“Brat!” She heard him call as he slammed the front door in response. 
The hours ticked by and her own thoughts ate away at her as the wind ripped around outside the cabin. As the sun began to dip low in the sky, darkness engulfed the tiny cabin and the wind turned to a vicious hailing of snow. She trembled, wracked with chills even under two blankets as she talked herself off the cliff. 
Each snap of the branches made her blood dip in temperature until the front door swung open. Slamming uncontrollably against the inside wall she dipped her head under the blankets as her heart pounded uncomfortably within her chest. John had found her. She was sure of it. 
“June?” A muffled voice called out to her, “hey,” warm hands reached out in the darkness and wrapped around her shoulders as the bed dipped behind her. “Fuck you’re freezing,” James swore as he pulled his jacket off and pressed himself against her. 
“Get away from me,” she pushed against him even though his warmth felt so good, it was intoxicating and made her sleepy. 
“You have to get warm June, you don’t have a choice,” he grumbled, pulling her against his chest he wrapped his arms around her tighter and forced her face into the crook of his warm neck.
Deciding that it would be fruitless to fight against this annoying, muscular giant she slumped against his hard body, breathing in his scent. His skin radiated a heat that spread through her body pooling low in her stomach. 
"Thank you," she whispered almost inaudibly.
"You're welcome, sunshine," he murmured as he began to stroke a stray strand of hair out of her face.
Goosebumps appeared on Juniper’s arms, her not knowing if it was from the nickname and low, sultry voice of the human radiator holding her, or just the heat in general. Suddenly, Juniper felt herself being lifted off the bed. 
“What are you doing?” Juniper whispered as she raised her head to look at James. 
James tilted his head to look at her, “Well, княжна, you let the fire die while I was gone. So I need to start it again and warm you up completely before the hypothermia sets in”. 
James had moved easily through the cabin and gently placed Juniper on the broken down couch in front of the fireplace, keeping her wrapped in the blanket he had found her under. 
“And you’re not going to get sick? You have on jeans and a t-shirt just like me!” Juniper snipped back, pulling her knees to her chest trying to keep what body heat James had left behind wrapped around her. 
James looked over his shoulder and smirked, “I’m a super soldier doll, I can’t get sick or cold.” He then turned his attention back to the fireplace.
She watched him start the fire, his muscles rippling beneath his t-shirt.
"What did you call me?" She asked.
A chuckle escaped his throat.
"I call you a lot things."
Her cheeks burned with humiliation. She was fixated on the Russian word-- at least it sounded Russian. It was probably something mean, and he was probably going to lie about it. He hated her, and she didn't understand why. She huffed softly and looked out the window as the snow fell, tears misting her eyes. She was stuck here with this asshole who hated her. The loneliness was starting to sink in and her throat clenched as she struggled to swallow the lump growing at the base of it. She just wanted to go home. 
Suddenly, she heard the fire crackling and then felt a warm hand tuck beneath her chin.
"June?" He whispered. "Can you look at me?"
She shook her head and heard a soft, disgruntled sigh, a gentle crunch of knees as he crouched in front of her, leaning until his eyes met hers. Tears dripped down her cheeks and she tried to flick them away before he saw them but it was futile.
"Go away," she whispered, her chin trembling. She felt like she could choke. 
"княжна means princess," he breathed, turning her head to face him. "And I'm not going anywhere."
"Why are you staying? You could just leave me here, no one would know." Juniper hiccuped between tears, her voice thick with a held back sob as her eyes connected with his.
A tired sigh left him as James shuffled closer to her while he kept his eyes on her, lips pursed into a thin line. 
"Look June," he lifted a calloused hand to grasp her own causing her breath to stutter, her eyes flitted down to his hand covering hers before looking back up at him, "I know this is hard on you. I know that I haven't made it any easier and I know you feel trapped here but.. I wanna keep you safe, okay?" 
She could feel the warmth radiating from the fire starting to warm her chilled bones but it was nothing compared to the heat washing over her from his words, enough to quiet down the doubtful voices inside her head at his change in attitude. 
His thumb running soothing lines over her hand was distracting enough on its own.
"Nothing is gonna happen to you, because I'm not leaving you." He whispered with conviction lacing his tone.
“You promise, James?” She whispered, still not fully convinced. He nodded with a soft chuckle that made her heart flutter. His hard exterior seemed to melt with each passing second that they stood in front of the fire. 
“Are you warming up at all, darlin’?” A hint of a Brooklyn accent poked through his words, making her smile sheepishly. She had always found accents attractive. 
But she couldn’t lie- neither he, the fire, nor the two blankets were helping to warm her up. Shaking her head, James sighed as he frantically looked around the small cabin for something to help.
Time seemed to move painfully slow as his taut chest was fully revealed and Juniper felt like her eyes were going to pop out of their sockets at the sight. The contour of his arms and chest was illuminated in tinges of orange from the flames dancing in the fireplace. 
"We need to get you warmed up fast, June and cold pieces of fabric between us isn't going to help get that done." 
She felt her heart begin to beat faster and her throat ran dry as a taunting heat crept up her neck. This has to be a dream. She felt his warm hand brush against hers and broke from her trance meeting his gaze. 
"I need you to trust me, Juniper. Let me help you. Please?"
All she could do was nod, as a violent shiver wracked her body, making her grab James’ hand to steady herself. He raised his other hand to her waist, gently touching the hem of her shirt. 
“Take this off?” he asked quietly, lifting the shirt an inch before Juniper took it, raising it and pulling it off the rest of the way. 
James kept his eyes firmly on hers, but raised his hands to her pants. “It’ll help if these come off too.”
“R-remember no f-funny business,” she said as she nodded her assent, James flashing a quick grin as he undid the button and pulled down the material. 
“I gotcha doll, strictly professional cuddling happening now,” James said seriously as he quickly shucked his own pants and held his arms out for Juniper.
She wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach and gently leaned towards him. She was hesitant, but honestly- she was too fucking cold to wait any longer. She could feel the warmth radiating off his chiseled chest, and her options could be worse.
A blush crept up her chest and spread to her face as her eyes quickly glanced over his now exposed lower half. This man was made of muscle- his hipbones could cut glass, and his thighs were so burly that she felt icy butterflies in her stomach.
As she continued to blush and move towards him, she wasn’t sure how her blood was still flowing- every part of her was as cold as ice. She felt goosebumps rising to the surface of her skin as James wrapped his arms around her. 
Juniper dropped her forehead against his chest and immediately felt a surge of warmth. She swallowed a moan in her throat as she flung her arms around James, closing her eyes tight and holding onto him for dear life. Her body trembled against his, aching to get closer.
“Whoa there, sugar,” James cooed, lowering them both towards the couch cushions on the ground. He held her small frame alongside his, covering them both with blankets. “Let’s get you comfy by the fire.”
“How are you like a million degrees?” Her voice shuddered softly as a chill wracked through her and she curled further into him. 
James laughed, the vibration in his chest hitting her straight in her core, “are you complaining? Because I could just,” he feigned scooting away from her but her fingers gripped into the taut skin around his waist, holding onto the soft spots that melded to her fingertips making him laugh again. 
“I was not complaining, just… making an observation.” She rolled her lips between her teeth, holding back a smile as she watched the flames flicker and dance in front of them. 
“Right.” He breathed, tucking his hands around her waist.
She tilted her head up, pulling away from him a touch so she could really see his face. The hard lines of his jaw and how it angled behind his ear in a sharp swoop that she wanted to trace with her shaky, frozen fingers. 
His lips hovered near hers, watching her as she studied everything about his face in the flickering light of the fire. The flames licked and danced behind his blue eyes as his lip curled up in response to her staring. 
“More observations?” He whispered and the husky tone of his voice mixed with the feathering touch of his fingers rubbing circles into her bare skin made her thighs clench together. 
She nodded, words evading her. He leaned in closer, his spicy cinnamon scent overwhelming her and making her stomach twist into knots. His lips parted mere inches from hers as his eyes flickered from her gaze to her mouth, it was a languid movement that made her inch closer begging for him to close the distance.
“June, this is the part in those books when the boy kisses the girl,” he huffed, hot air brushing over her lips.  
Her brows furrowed and her hand came up to lay flat against his hard chest, her nails digging into the skin, “you read romance books?” She laughed, unable to believe that and her bottom lip brushed against his sending sparks through her. 
Juniper gasped at the electricity running through her from such a small touch. She would blame her brain for being frozen and unable to filter her next words. “Why don’t you show me what happens in those romance books you read?” With each word, their lips continued to touch in the tiniest ways. 
James chuckled as his eyes gazed into hers again, “Now doll, I thought this was professional cuddling only?” 
Juniper saw the blue in James’ eyes become smaller, she slowly moved her hands down his chest to rest on the waistband of his boxers. Rolling her hips closer to him she said, “The tent you’ve pitched isn’t very professional, agent.” 
Before she could close the distance to finally kiss him, James had her laid flat underneath him. 
Resting on his left forearm so as not to crush Juniper. 
James moved her legs apart with his knee, getting closer to her face again, “It’s Sergeant” He said as his lips eclipsed hers.
The kiss was crushing at first, all of the tension that lingered between them communicated through clicking teeth and tangled tongues. She didn't understand it. One minute, this man couldn't stand her, and the next, he couldn't get enough of her. On the plus side, she was a hell of a lot warmer. 
Juniper drew in a sharp gasp through her nose as her fingers found the dog tags hanging around his neck, tugging on them. He broke the kiss to drag his lips along her jawline, tracing it as her eyes fluttered until his mouth met her earlobe.
"I thought you hated me," she whined, and then smirked before adding, "Sergeant."
The groan that spilled from his lips made her back arch. James pulled back, his eyes nearly black from his blown out pupils. A smirk eclipsed his face and her eyes followed the soft constellation of freckles that ran down his razor sharp cheekbone.
"Oh, darlin', I don't hate you. I was just afraid I wouldn't be able to stay away from you." She felt his knee glide higher and higher and moaned at the scorching heat from his skin. "And I hate it when I lose a bet with myself."
"What was the bet?"
She felt his knee grind against her cunt and moaned softly as he grinned, his face turning bright pink.
"I don't know,"  he laughed, his nose scrunching up. "I just wanted a cheesy romance book line to say."
Her fingers tightened around the chain and she pulled him close enough that his nose was pressed against hers. He rubbed it gently against hers, both of them giggling softly. Juniper hummed as she scratched his chest lightly with her fingernails. 
"We've got a fireplace, one bed, I'm freezing, you're warming me up... looks like we're ticking all the boxes."
"Looks like it," James breathed. His metal hand came up to brush her cheek. "Can I kiss you again, княжна?"
His voice was so much softer this time, sweeter. She bit her lip and nodded before his mouth pressed against hers once more.
The second kiss was needier, messier as the fire flickered behind them. Between the fire and the kiss, Juniper was finally warm. 
“Do you want to stay here or move to the bed?” She whispered a love drunk smile spread across her bruising lips. A calloused hand made its way down her side, the roughness sending waves of arousal to her core. 
“I don’t know darlin’. Right here is just fine by me,” Nodding, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back down. 
His rough hand found its way to the band of her panties, trailing across her stomach before he stopped. 
“May I?”
Juniper dragged her nails softly across his scalp, fingers interlaced in his soft chestnut strands as she brought their lips closer together. 
"Please do." she voiced before pressing her lips to his in a searing kiss. 
James bit her bottom lip lightly and pulled back, releasing it with a pop as he sat back. He hooked his index fingers under the waistband of her underwear and pulled them down her legs, his eyes never leaving hers in the process. She sucked in a breath at the sudden chill before feeling his flesh hand grasp her calf as he placed a tender kiss to her leg. 
"You let me know if you wanna stop at any point, ok Juniper?" She nodded in response and he squeezed her calf gently and shook his head. "I need to hear you say it sweetheart." 
"Yes, I won't want that though. But ok, I will." she bit her lip holding back a smile at the sight of him as a slight pink blush crept to his face, nose scrunched with a smile. A soft laugh slipped from his lips followed by a whispered behave, Juniper before he began laying a trail of wet kisses up her leg. His fingers kneaded her thighs as he laid down, his hot breath fanning her wet cunt as he draped her leg over his shoulder. His vibranium hand found hers and he locked their fingers together as he licked a stripe between her folds. The tip of his warm tongue circled her tender nub before he took it between his lips.
Juniper moaned, fingers back in James’ hair she clenched tight and pulled lightly, directing him to put more pressure on her clit. He groaned into her, vibrations traveling through her cunt to her fingers and toes. 
“James, oh my God your tongue,” Juniper gasped, feeling him smile into her wet heat before he curled his tongue and licked at her walls. “Fuck!”
James pulled back, nipping at her inner thighs, teasing her back down from the edge. 
“Easy darlin’, we’ve got all night,” he murmured with a wink before he pressed back in, tongue gliding through her folds again.
He lapped at her clit with his tongue, moaning into her soaked core. He unlaced his metal fingers from hers and ran them up the length of her frame and back down the column of her throat, over the lace of her bra, cupping her breast in his hand. The fire had warmed up the cool metal, and Juniper’s skin was addicted to the warmth.
“James-“ 
He palmed at her right breast with his metal hand, lightly pinching her nipple. The entire time, he continued working her clit. He wrapped his lips around it and sucked. She gasped as he started to roll her nipple between his fingers at the same time, causing it to pebble beneath the fabric. 
He grasped at the fabric between her breasts and in one swift move he tore through the fabric like it was nothing, left staring at the flimsy lace in his hand. 
He pulled away from her cunt, his mouth slick. “Oh God,” he started, his breath hitched in his throat. He looked from the bra back up at Juniper who didn’t recognize the guttural noise that bubbled up from her core. It was half shock and half primal lust. 
“That was so fucking hot,” she breathed, looking down at him through her lashes.
All doubt and fear fell from James’ face as he heard her words. He grinned as he dove down and captured her lips in his. Juniper moaned into the kiss, tasting herself on his tongue. He tossed the bra across the floor and slipped his metal hand between their bodies, running two fingers through her slick.
She whined as he slipped his fingers inside her with ease. “James-“ she whined, his teeth taking her bottom lip between his. 
“Call me sergeant,” he growled against her jawline, moving his metal fingers in and out of her wet cunt.
Juniper gasped as his fingers curled inside of her, tenderly stroking the spot that made her toes curl and sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body. 
"Yes, Sergeant" She breathed, her eyes slamming closed as her hips rolled upwards between them, meeting the movements of his hand. 
She raked her fingers down his back, trailing along the band of his boxers. Juniper felt his body tense for a moment, making her open her eyes to meet his. They were completely black now, his chest heaved with his pants as he stared down at her. 
"It's okay," He whispered, his lips barely hovering over hers as he gave her permission to move. 
Juniper gently dug her nails into his skin, forcing a groan to spill from him. Her fingers grasped around his cock, already wet with precum and sensitive. He bucked into her hand at the slightest of her movements, whimpering as James buried his face into her neck. 
"I need you," She whined, her body feeling like it was floating as he coaxed her further towards the edge, "please Ja--Sergeant."
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” James muttered into Juniper’s neck. He then pushed off her to shed his boxers, the absence of heat sending a cold chill through her body. She couldn’t take her eyes off James’ cock as it slapped against his abs, making them glisten in the firelight with precum. She was sure he would split her in half, not just due to his length, but his girth as well. 
“Such an observant girl”, James smirked as he crawled back atop her, trailing soft open mouth kisses all up her torso. 
“Please, Sergeant” was the only words Juniper could form.
James lifted his head up, “Look at me June”, his voice low and soft. 
Juniper locked her gaze with him. “I’ve got you pretty girl, just relax.”
His hand cupped her face and she reached up to lace her fingers with his. He smiled softly.
"You ready for me?" 
She bit her lip.
"What do you think?"
He exhaled and dipped his head to kiss her softly. 
"I wanna hear it, gorgeous... I need to hear it." He paused, his voice low and rumbling as he peppered kisses along her cheekbone. "Tell me you need me."
Her heart pounded. It felt like it was lodged in her chest. She could almost swallow it as his hands roamed her body. 
"I need you," she breathed. 
James grinned, pride filling his face. He grabbed the base of his cock and slowly began to push himself into her. Juniper's breath hitched and caught in her chest as a deep, familiar sting filled her body. Her eyes closed, the tip of his cock buried inside of her. He stopped and kissed her forehead softly.
"You're okay," he soothed. "I gotcha."
"More," was all she could whimper. "Please, Sergeant."
He grinned, his forehead resting against hers as he pushed deeper inside of her, whining with her as she cried out. The sensation was electric, crawling down her spine and her toes pointed. Her muscles were taut, twitching.
"As you wish, princess." Finally, he bottomed out and she let out a ragged and raw cry as her back bowed. James grinned as she quivered around him. "Atta girl."
He pressed a sweet kiss to her lips as he lay still giving her a moment to adjust to him. Juniper brought her hand to his face, brushing the hair at his forehead softly as a content smile graced her lips. 
“I’m okay, James. You can move.” 
James smiled and took her bottom lip between his as he moved his vibranium hand to the small of her back, lifting her hips slightly as he pulled back and thrust back into her. She dragged her nails down his back as she relished in the way his hips rolled against hers his movement sure to leave bruises along her hipbones.
Juniper but down on her lip, holding back but James thumbed it free, “Come on pretty girl, sing for me.” 
He thrust forwards harder the tip of his cock brushing past that sensitive place inside her making her moan. 
“There we go, angel, found the right spot,” James grinned as he slowly pulled his hips back, dragging his dick along her walls before slamming back into her spot. 
Juniper desperately grabbed James’ dog tags, swinging wildly from his neck, holding on as he began fucking her with deep, powerful strokes, moans and whimpers falling from her lips.
"James, oh my god" she breathed, her voice sounding so far away as he repeatedly hammered against her g-spot. 
"No, just me darlin'," he smirked down at her. 
His hips moved at a vicious but calculated pace that made her skin burn and ignite with goosebumps that trailed her entire body. James' mouth trailed along her jawline, down her neck nibbling on the sweet spot making her eyes roll back. 
Every one of her senses felt overwhelmed. She could still taste him on her tongue, cinnamon and wood smoke filled her nostrils, the soft praises that spilled from his lips, the way his body felt under her fingertips and the way his hair stuck every which way, little tuffs sticking to his forehead from the sweat and his blown out pupils admiring every inch of her. Everything she was experiencing pushed her towards the edge, fueling the fire in her belly making her clench around him. 
A sinful moan left his lips as his movements started to become erratic and quick paced. She knew that neither of them were going to be able to last much longer.
“Sergeant, please, I’m gonna come,” Juniper begged as her back arched more to take him as deep as she could. 
“Fuck, what a good girl you are asking your sergeant for permission”, James growled into her ear as his metal hand slid between them and he began to roll her clit with his fingers. 
The fire in the hearth had nothing on the fire resting in Juniper’s core. It continued to increase as James kept swirling her sensitive nub with his fingers and drove his cock as deep as he could to hit her g spot. Her head fell back, eyes slammed shut as she moaned using all the air in her lungs. 
“That’s right Juniper, no one but me can hear you out here. It’s all for me. Come for me, beautiful. I wanna feel you can squeeze me.” James’ hip movements grew more erratic, chasing the high that waited, but his fingers worked steadily at her clit, the praise and permission sending her over the edge.
Juniper let out a sinful moan as the initial wave of her climax hit her, followed by a scream that emphasized just how intense her orgasm was running through her body. 
“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ tight. Been thinking of how perfect this pussy was ever since you spent 12 hours squirming in the car.” James’ words were as chaotic as his thrusts, but Juniper was in no state to stop him. As wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, all she could do was whisper “yes” again and again. 
Finally with one last bruising thrust James coated juniper’s walls with his cum. “Oh FUCK”, James screamed to the ceiling. He slumped slightly to where his and Juniper’s forehead’s were touching, both panting to catch their breath. Juniper could feel their mixed arousal moving down her thighs and onto the cushions as James’ softened within her.
A small huff made its way through Juniper’s lips at the loss of him as he slipped out from her and pressed his back against the cushions under them. He pulled her body flush to his chest with his vibranium hand, her head falling against his shoulder as he dragged the fingers of his right hand lightly up and down her spine. 
She focused her attention on the steady rise and fall his chest with every breath and the way his heartbeat felt against the palm of her hand, beating almost in sync with hers as he seemed to relish in the lingering sensations of their highs and the feel of her body against his as she did the feel of his against hers. 
Juniper pushed herself up slightly, leaning her weight toward the leg she had slumped over his hips until she laid chest to chest with James. She peppered kisses across the freckles scattered along his chest before she placed both hands flat atop it to support her chin as she took in every inch of his face, committing his content look to memory. 
A satisfied hum left James’ lips as he crossed her arms at her hips as if he was unwilling to let this moment go. 
His eyes met hers and he threw a soft whispered “Hi” her way. 
“Hi.” she giggled, her breaths steady now but her heart rate picking back up under his gaze. 
“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, June?” he asked 
“Just wondering,” she hesitated and he raised a brow slightly, urging her to continue, “I just- what were you thinking about me after you were ‘assigned’ to me? Honestly.” 
James let out a chuckle, bringing his flesh hand up to brush a strand hair off her face before he responded, 
“Well, I think still- that you’re an incredibly brave woman. Especially for willing to speak against what you saw, putting the wellbeing of other people above yours to make things right. I think that’s- you’re admirable Juniper. The world needs more people like you around.” 
She felt tears well in her eyes at his words. It had been the worst thing she had ever witnessed, and she was scared out her mind to have to be in hiding after deciding to talk, but this is why she did it. To keep it from happening again and for however long she had to be holed up in this cabin because of it, she was grateful the universe had at least gifted her with James. She felt him shift under her weight as he brushed his thumb across her chin. 
“You okay?” 
“Perfect” she whispered, placing a kiss to his lips before she laid back down and nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck.
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Hi! So I really love your "When You Can't Find The Quiet" series and I think it's amazing how well you write! If you're still taking requests I'd love to see another part with maybe like Bucky and Steve helping the reader through a meltdown. Like Peter's ill or something so couldn't be there and Tony's away on some kind of business but like Happy picked the reader up and took them to the tower and Tony contacted Bucky to help. And like Steve's confused and just draws for the reader or something?
(Can be read as standalone or as (the much delayed) WYCFTQ pt 6)
There weren’t many people you interacted with on a regular basis, and that was just the way you preferred it.
People are scary. Unpredictable. Deceit hidden behind curtains of seemingly genuine intent, gauzy and constantly shifting and impossible to focus on what lies beyond. It didn’t make sense. All your life you had been exactly as you were, no lies, no acting unless instructed to. The masking kind, only, as you tried to keep up in the neurotypical social game. Frankly, it all seemed rather put on and pointless and by the time you reached high school you’d all but given up on it. Given up on trying to decode other people as well. There was too much shit going on, and it was the path of least resistance to settle on your small group of friends and leave it at that. Minimal masking, minimal need for interpretation. You trusted your friends to be who they said they were, and you showed up with no pretences held.
That being said, entering Peter’s world was terrifying. Here were adults that seemed to have true intentions; adults with the time and resources to make your life easier in a way you’d never before had access to. Adults- Tony, Nat, Bucky, Pepper- who said they wanted to help. Who did help, and not in the way you were used to adults ‘helping’, with social rules and short reprimands and sad sighs when you just didn’t get it. You had to trust them. Because without that help, trying to manage being a generally functioning human that left the apartment and did homework and went to school and didn’t punch randoms on the subway on instinct for standing too close, felt impossible. Part of you felt shame for having grown so reliant, but you knew the alternative all too well. Complete shutdown. Burnout. Months of being so hazy and out of it nothing felt real and nothing got done. So, reluctantly, you accepted the status quo.
Meltdowns happen. They suck ass. At this point you felt like you’d experienced every possible way that they could happen, the growing Big Bad Feeling in the pit of your guts almost familiar. They honestly didn’t get any easier with time (or, to phrase it kinda weirdly, with practice). The humiliation stung just as harshly after every one when you had nothing left to give. The Post-Meltdown Energy Drain leaving you collapsed on the floor like some kind of deflated beanbag, letting everyone else take over. You could cry over the mortification later when you had the spoons.
This last meltdown was no different. It had grown over a few days, the general unrest of the student body headed towards summer break doing nothing to help, nor did the constant stickiness of late-May humidity. It made sense, in a weird parallel way- humidity inevitable breaks with a storm, and the growing sense of badness broke in a meltdown. It was only too bad you couldn’t have waited until school was out to have it in the privacy of your bedroom. The floor probably would’ve been less gross as well, but even the thought of high school corridor germs wasn’t enough to get you up as you waited for Happy.
It wasn’t usually Happy who picked you up. Tony typically did it himself, and as selfish as it felt you preferred it that way. He knew what to do, and he hadn’t belittled you for it yet so there was a growing sense of trust that it was an unlikely scenario. Alas, being an avenger and owning a multi-billion dollar company is no casual business, and there was just no way he was able to come and get you, so Happy was enlisted. You weren’t sure what to make of Happy. He never really said much to you (not that you would’ve said much in return) but he seemed to like Peter. Only problem was, Peter wasn’t even at school today. Probably hurt himself patrolling, given that it was probably impossible for his genetically enhanced ass to get sick. Lucky.
The slapping of Happy’s shoes on the worn linoleum broke your train of thought. The corridor was being kept clear by Ned and the new school nurse, who probably volunteered just to not have to figure out what else to do. You could’ve sworn none of these people had ever met another goddamn autistic person out in the wild before. Which, their loss, honestly. You hoisted yourself up on a locker and followed Happy on autopilot, eyes glazed over by the time you reached the distinctive black car. You felt like absolute shit. But every part of your brain was yelling at you to act fine, act normal, like nothing had ever happened.
Unsurprisingly, Happy didn’t say a word the entire drive back. You felt like every atom in your body had been drained of energy and you collapsed against the window of the car, too viscerally exhausted to care about the vibration of the car against your skull. Somewhere deep in your brain you tried to remember all the steps to the sensory room- the elevator, the right level, FRIDAY, the security pass- but each thought was too much effort to complete, and trailed off part way through. You kept trying over and over and over and over to remember how to do it, how to get to safety, with each attempt fizzling out sooner and sooner and never eventuating. You were too preoccupied with forcing the repetitive thought loop to recognise pulling into a driveway, down to the garage, half closed eyes seeing nothing, and the bone-tiredness letting your head just hang when the pressure of the door dropped as someone opened it from outside. Cool metal pushed hair back from your forehead and held you up as the restraint of the seatbelt rescinded and you realised it was Bucky.
He didn’t even ask before transferring most of your weight to his shoulder, and picking you up and out of the car. Somewhere in the haze you considered that maybe, this treatment was embarrassing; after all, you’d only met Bucky like, twice, and this was the second time he’d seen you in at some point in the meltdown life-cycle. But your body felt simultaneously numb and tingly and not there at all, and you didn’t even have the energy to cry despite desperately wanting to be able to, and all you could do was sink into his shoulder and try and keep your eyelids open.
You could feel when Bucky spoke. “Hey, can you grab that blanket over there? It’s weighted.”
Still feeling devoid of any capacity, you almost imperceptibly shook your head. Bucky rubbed your shoulder. “It’s okay, I wasn’t asking you, doll. We’re up in the sensory room. Steve is here. He wants to help, and I’m gonna get him to grab the weighted blanket so we can rest on that big comfy beanbag. You can sleep if you want, or we can just ride this out until you’re feeling a bit better. Nice and easy,” he lowered himself to slowly fall back into the memory foam. It only just occurred to you that you were gripping onto Bucky’s shirt for dear life, that the only way he would’ve been able to put you down would be to pry himself from your entangled hands. An honestly, you didn’t even fucking care. Humiliation aside, Bucky felt steady and calm and reassuring and you still felt so unsafe in your mind and body, an unrest that could easily spiral into meltdown round two. Which, ya know, you’d rather not do. Fighting sleep, you felt the air shift next to you and Steve returned, draping the grounding weight of the blanket over your jittery bones. He had something else with him too; as he sat on the ground beside you and Bucky, you registered that it was a sketchbook, and without a word he started to draw. First a landscape, a sunset, some birds, etched in grey then filled in pastels of colour. Mesmerised, you watched as your consciousness dripped away, sleeping in the way you only ever did when you were safe
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