#bucky barnes x reader miniseries

[justkending]

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 1)

Mini-Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader

Word Count: 2700+

A/N Note: OK! Here we go! I'm excited to share this mini-series and what's to come in it. It's a lot more in-depth than I thought it would be, but I love it. I hope you do as well :) Anyway! As always, please let me know what you think, and all comments are welcome!

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“And you chose those two to go on a task together?” Steve exasperated, running a hand over his face as he looked over the video footage in front of them.

“Everyone else was on a mission,” Tony exclaimed. 

“That and it doesn’t matter what their petty vendettas against each other are. They’re professionals at the end of the day that better get their God damn acts together before I personally make them regret it,” Fury countered. 

“Undercover newlyweds seems like a risky assignment for them,” Nat added. “Steve and I have done it before. We can-”

“No, you can not,” Fury cut them off and clicked a button on his desk that swapped the video footage of druglords to a file slowly scrolling. “You both have an assignment I’m sending you in the next hour in correlation to this case. So without your work, theirs is pointless. Got it?”

Nat and Steve shared a quick look before the blonde gave him a curt nod for him to continue. 

Fury went on to explain how an insider of the criminal group had confirmed shipments, including hostages working as drug mules and other illegal substances that hadn’t been tested yet across US borders. A whole operation in itself, but Bucky and Y/N’s job would give them information the current insiders they had on the job weren’t able to attain. 

Y/N and Bucky’s undercover assignment was to act as newlyweds, infiltrate the front runners of the group, and try to become a proven alliance in hopes of joining the group in their ‘business’.

“So we’re on standby with information until they have leads to help our end?” Steve concluded. 

“Yes. And vice versa. You’re running tactical, and they’re running intelligence, although a mix in between,” Fury nodded, handing them a paper copy of the mission.

“And it can’t go the other way?” Nat asked. 

“Your faces have become much too well known in the last few years for it to be passable,” Tony added, arms crossed and reclined in the rolling office chair he couldn’t see to keep stationary. “Bucky doesn’t care for the public eye and has changed appearances since his run from the government, and no one can forget America’s sweetheart over here,” he motioned to Steve.  

“I’ve changed identities enough to get by,” Nat shrugged, watching the brunette carefully. 

“Yes, but Y/N’s face hasn’t graced the nationwide flatscreens nearly as much as yours,” he smiled spryly and fluttered his eyelashes. “Plus, it’s already been decided, so we’re moving on from the argument.”

“How long of an operation are we talking about here if the two have to create a relationship with the front runners of this?” Steve asked.

“Depends on how well the couple can sell it,” Fury crossed his arms. “Speaking of the couple.”

“Shove me again, and you’ll lose another limb that you’ll miss far more than that arm,” Y/N growled as she pushed past the massive body blocking her way into the meeting room. 

“There’s a thing called manners, and it’s free to use them,” Bucky grunted as she shoved him with surprising strength that made him slightly teeter. 

 The group outside of the new additions gave each other a hopeless look. 

“I give it two days,” Steve sighed, resting his head on his fist and watching them as they struggled to find the last open chair. Y/N came on top of the scrabble and shoved him again for extra measures. 

“Jackass,” Bucky mumbled as he leaned against the wall behind her, kicking her chair in extra annoyance. 

“Bitchass,” Y/N retorted, throwing a middle finger behind her. 

“I think you give them too much credit,” Nat let out a dry chuckle before turning to Fury. “Please, break the news to the two idiots so I can have a highlight of this night.” 

“What news?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows to Fury. She was one of the few people who didn’t show fear towards the walking intimidation of a man. 

“Your next mission,” Tony answered in a long breath. “Where you and Barnes will be known as Mr. and Mrs. Hunt.”

“Excuse me?” Bucky gawked and stood straighter in his spot.

“What’s the date today?” Y/N asked at the same time. 

Bucky came around from her back and gave her a worried yet disgusted look. “I’m sorry. For what reason are you worried about the date?”

She never took her eyes off Fury. “I’m just trying to clarify if it’s April 1st or not because this is a poorly done April Fools joke,” she held an equally intimidating stare at the master in front of her. 

“It’s June. You’re off by a few months,” he replied, unphased and unbreaking. 

“Then I’d like some clarification on who needs a fucking lobotomy, considering that’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve heard today. And I’ve been around this dumbass for the last 12 hours already,” she jabbed a finger back at Bucky, whose nostrils were flaring. 

“Real classy, Princess,” he said lowly. 

“Thanks, I like to keep it that way, Cyborg,” she replied without turning to him. “But seriously, is it you, Fury, that needs a Psych eval because there is no way in hell you thought this idea would actually work out in your favor.”

The room was silent as the two most intense people in the room had a stare-down. Eventually, Fury spoke up with a smirk on his lips. 

“You better figure the fuck out how to make it work in my favor because any other way isn’t really an option for you, Sergeant Y/L/N.” 

Before Y/N could fire another remark that would likely have put anyone else six feet in the ground, Bucky cut her off. “What’s the mission?”

Y/N finally gave Bucky her attention with a stern face freckled with annoyance. “Teacher’s pet.” Bucky made a face at her before she turned around. 

Fury went on to explain the mission on both their end and Nat and Steve’s. From the sounds of it, it was going to take months of convincing some dicks in the drug trafficking business (covering as presidents of the homeowner association club) that they wanted in on their scheme in order to get the information no one else seems to be able to steal.

“How many sundresses do you own, Y/N? Because I don’t think your rock band, ripped jeans, and Doc Martens are going to convince anyone you’re the baked-you-a-fresh-pie-as-a-hello-to-the-neighborhood-kind of wife,” he added, emphasizing the label he had already created for her undercover character.

“How are they going to take to a half-robotic husband?” she shoved his vibranium hand off the back of her chair.  

“I have technology for that,” Tony jumped in. 

“And I have your credit card for a new wardrobe, so I guess that solves both those problems,” she flashed a fake smile at Tony before crossing her arms snuggly across her chest. 

“You’re gonna have to leave that attitude at home, too,” Bucky got down to whisper in her ear, and he moved fast enough before she could sucker punch him in the face.

“Why not just arrest these two? Why go through the whole process of undercover work if we know they’re running the operation?” Y/N questioned, pivoting side to side in her chair as she thought aloud.

“Because there isn’t solid evidence, thanks to their associates being connected enough to cover shit up,” Fury answered. “And we believe there are multiple parties of their stature in the game. Meaning, we arrest them, the others scatter, and we risk losing a lot of information and take 20 steps back from where we’re at.” 

“Hmm,” she nodded as she stared off into a void space in the room, calculating her approach to this. 

“You’re actually considering this?” Nat asked. “I expected more of a fight.”

“I’m telling myself that it’s the drugs and possible human trafficking I’m doing this for, and tormenting Bucky along the way will be a bonus instead of a nuisance,” she replied with a weak smile like she was still convincing herself that.

“Smart,” Nat shrugged and gave an agreeable face.

“Your flights are leaving in four and a half hours, so I suggest packing your bag of necessities before we ship you off,” Tony sat up from his chair, stretching. “Any other things you need will be provided at the house already set up for you two to play the part of newlyweds. And get used to that word because it's about to become extremely annoying hearing it on repeat. Barnes comes with me to get that looking more human-like,” he pointed at his arm before walking out. 

Bucky scanned over the file in hand and let out a sigh. “We couldn’t get stationed beach somewhere in Hawaii?” 

“You’ll find the mountains rather eye-catching this time of the year,” Fury typed a few things on his desk and clasps his hands behind his back. “And that you don’t have a choice either way. Dismissed.” 

___________________

Y/N’s POV

The amount of junk they had pawned off to us as “newlywed cargo” seemed excessive. Brand new appliances were still in boxes unopened, letters on them saying who had gifted them to us as our “wedding gift” littered the kitchen and entryway. 

I was currently in the guest room unpacking a box of linens and bedding in the spare closet. My mind was a hundred miles away from my physical body, but somehow, I had managed to organize the closet in a surprisingly efficient manner while on autopilot. 

“Honey,” Bucky’s voice came from the hallway, and I took advantage of the times I wasn’t being watched to roll my eyes at the pet name. Before I could respond with a snarky comment, he followed up with, “The next-door neighbors are here to introduce themselves. Wanna come say hi?” 

Showtime. 

“Be right out!” I shouted back, standing from my spot, crouched to the ground, and brushing off one of the many new sundresses now taking up space in my closet.

For clarity, it’s not that I was against them; it just wasn’t my usual taste. Though the freeness of no pants was starting to rub off on me…

Coming around the corner of the hallway to our homey new abode, I plastered an award-winning smile on my face and scanned the two individuals in front of Bucky. I gave Bucky a silent look that read, “Hey sweetheart,” to outsiders and, “The assholes in question?” to a trained eye. 

“Doll,” Bucky started, nodding his head once at my true question and matching my step to wrap an arm around my waist, pulling me close for extra show. “This is Reginold and Bethanne Bauer. They’re our neighbors right across the street from us,” he introduced, adding a squeeze to my hip that I countered with a pinch to his side that he chuckled off. 

The physical touch was for show, but I knew he used it as a way to irritate me further, too. Lucky for me, it’s a two-player game. 

“Please, call me Reggie,” the middle-aged man offered his hand.

The man looked like he played the role of a typical white male living in a cookie-cutter home, but his build showed he wasn’t on the unfit side of things. From the files, he was 42 years old, and he obviously had kept his health a priority because he could have been in his mid 30s, from what I gathered. 

“You must be Charlotte,” Bethanne said, jumping in when her husband didn’t release my hand in a timely manner. “My my, you’re far more beautiful up close,” she said with a sweet smile, though any woman could recognize the hint of judgment in them. 

Bethanne Bauer was a 5’6”, 38-year-old lady with darker blonde hair and a figure that showed she likely was a pilates guru who didn’t take many days off. Her Lululemon leggings and slicked-back bun confirmed this assessment. 

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” I replied with a nose crinkle and a firm squeeze of my hand before drawing it back to rest on Bucky’s chest. “We appreciate you coming by and introducing yourself,” I smiled up to Bucky, who was already looking down at me (what a showman). I leaned my head in the nook of his shoulder as I turned back to them. “We were so nervous about starting over in a new state and weren’t sure what the community would be like. But everyone’s been so kind here in Montana, and you guys are just proving that point.” 

“Oh, this neighborhood is like a family,” Reggie replied, keeping his eyes on me. I'd feel uneasy if I didn’t know how to disarm a man in five hundred ways, but I knew more than 500 ways to get a man like the one in front of me to grovel. “So much so, you may be under careful watch for a while,” he winked, and I forced a laugh out, Bucky pulling me closer to his side at the harmless threat. “I’m just joking with ya,” he waved off with a boisterous laugh of his own, and Bethanne rolled her eyes. 

“He thinks he’s a comedian,” she playfully patted his shoulder. “But really, if you guys need anything at all, we are just a shout away. Or, our welcome to the neighborhood gift basket has our phone numbers in it, too, if you prefer to call.” 

Off to the side, I noticed a cellophane wicker basket with baked goods, a wine bottle, and some gift cards in it. Bucky must have accepted it before I got in here.

“You all are too kind,” I gushed, putting a hand on my chest in appreciation. “See honey,” I swatted Bucky’s chest, getting a tiny grunt from him. “I told you we would find a home here. I have a good feeling about this community,” I winked back at them with a wide grin. 

I could see the studying eyes on the woman and decided to act oblivious to her assessing. 

“Can I ask y’all a quick question?” I asked, a twinge of a southern accent I hadn’t pulled in ages coming out casually. “Where is the best grocery store around here? I’ve heard mixed things about the two stores y’all have, and you guys seem to have great taste, so,” I motioned to the gift basket. 

Bethanne listed a few of the stores they go to, ones I had researched on our flight here to get a better grounding of our new home. Of course, they were the more high-end stops. Eventually, the Bauers excused themselves for a neighborhood meeting they had planned, and Bucky and I were left alone. As soon as the door shut, I moved to the kitchen to grab a notepad. 

“Have we unpacked the pens, Beau?” I asked loudly, using Bucky’s fake name, which he seemed to know why right off the bat.

“Second drawer by the fridge,” he motioned, opening the basket and going through it, our charades still continuing. 

“I had a few things we need to grab from the store and thanks to our helpful neighbors, we know the best spot now,” I mindlessly talked as I wrote on the note; Check for bugs.

A welcome basket was fine and dandy, but considering who it was from and how quick they were to be at our doorstep—not even two hours into the moving vans' pull-up—I knew the drill, and so did Bucky as he listed out aloud what was in the gift. 

“Wow, they got us Doordash gift cards,” he smiled, placing them on the marble counter. “Wanna eat in tonight? Maybe a local spot?” 

“Sounds good to me,” I hummed, coming around the island corner and placing the notebook beside it. “Oh, did you find their number? We can ask if they have any suggestions.”

Placing the pen on top of the notepad for Bucky to respond, I moved to look in the basket myself and grabbed the note they had attached to it. 

“Eat in, drink some wine, and,” he circled the word ‘bugs,’ confirming the suspicion before leaning on the counter and looking at me with communicative eyes that didn’t match his words. “Watch a movie if I can get the TV set up by then.”

“Sounds like a date,” I smiled, but the annoyance that we had to be playing our characters until we could dispose of the bug was playing in my eyes.

Marvel Tags:

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My Lovelies forever:

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[captainsimagines]

pretty woman, this is me trying || B.B Masterlist ||

Summary: Bucky Barnes does not like to be touched. He’s completely ready to live a distant life and give up when the time is right. Until Stark hires him his own personal pretty woman. Over time, Bucky Barnes begins to learn how to touch again. How to feel again. How to love himself again. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female SexWorker!Reader 

Trope(s): Holiday Fanfic 🎄 ; Slow-Burn ; Friends to Lovers

Based on the Song(s): sweet nothing by Taylor Swift and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

Word Count: 37,000+

This series is completed. Also read on AO3.

Warnings: This fanfiction deals with heavy and rough topics such as: consensual sex work, sexual themes and discussions, panic attacks, detailed sexual content, and past sexual and emotional abuse (caused by Hydra). This work is strictly 18+ only and is purely fanfiction. 

Author’s Note: This holiday series is a lot more serious and heavy than The Warmth of Winter, but it’s what was in my head. I literally wrote it in 3 days. Oops. I hope it’s good.

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finale

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TAGLIST: @natbarnes1917​ @fandoms-writings​ @lady-x-red​ @justfic​ @mannien​ @samwilsonsthunderthighs​ @povlvr​

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Watching, Waiting... 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, violence, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: There’s a man watching you. 

Character: Bucky Barnes

Note: Hello lovelies. Would love a little extra love with this one as I’m working on the third and final part still.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It’s just after six. The door is locked, the gate is pulled down, and the shop is quiet. 

You do your usual rounds as the evening hue casts shadows through the shelves and gather under the empty tables. You put the chairs up one at a time, placing them legs up, then take your broom to sweep away the errant crumbs and debris from outside. The bristles scratch on the tile beneath the soft drone of instrumental music.

The small tea shop smells of chai and ginger, a medley of other scents underlining the rich aroma. You gather up the dirt in the pan and dump it in the bin of used napkins and wooden stir sticks. You tie up the bag and put it by the back door to toss on your way out. 

You take the misplaced cast iron kettle back to the shelves by the window and return it to sit beside the folded price card. As you do, the yellow hue of streetlights shifts through the glass and you wince, setting down the heavy vessel a bit too heavily. You squint at the silhouette watching through the window, looming just behind the thick bars of the gate.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes meet, his face sharply angled by the gloom of the New York evening. He shies away, caught, and swiftly strides down the pavement. You stare after the stranger, a tugging of recognition in the back of your mind. As little as you could make out, there is something familiar.

A sigh ripples out as you turn and go back to mark off the closing checklist. It’s not unusual for a few stragglers to get curious. Usually, they were pissing against the storefront, but something about him, about the intent of his gaze, the rigidness of his stance set you on guard. He was so casual as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

You close up the binder of daily tasks and slide it on top of the safe and shut the cabinet door. You twist the key in the lock and hang it with the rest before closing the mounted metal case on the wall. You take your time getting your coat and purse, lingering as not to run into the odd observer.

You check your phone. Your place isn’t far from here. Just a block down, a shitty one-bedroom above a pawn shop. Only a tad seedy.

You grab the plastic waste bag and exit into the alley, the metal door clanks shut and locks on its own. You swing the trash over the top of the dumpster and dig out your earbuds as you walk down the narrow alley, the sickly smell curdling in your nose as you try not to breathe too deep. You slip your headphones in as you come out onto the Brooklyn row, your feet carrying you on habit alone.

You crank up your curated playlist, a song you don’t listen to often but don’t bother skipping. You peer into the grim facades of other shops as you pass, all locked down behind grates to keep out the nightly rabble. Your reflection walks with you like a wraith in the glass.

You stop at the light as taxis chuff by and the honking of angry drivers can be heard around the thrumming of music in your ears. You cross and turn your head, peeking out the corner of your eye as you do. An instinctual practice for any New Yorker. There’s a speck there, just behind you. A few steps back, keeping pace with you but not coming to meet you.

You don’t look back completely and take out your phone, pausing your music. You hear his steps, barely. Measured to maintain the distance between you. You veer away from your building and head into the noodle shop gleaming red and orange in the urban mosaic.

Inside, the usual cacophony of voices greets you. You take out your earbuds and let them dangle around your neck. You join the line as the door chimes behind you. You don’t glance back as you wait your turn.

You order and step to the side to await your pad thai. The man who followed you in approaches the till, his deep voice humming and hawing as he tries to decide. You keep your eyes on the menu, too afraid to look straight at him. You might be imagining it, he may just want some noodles.

When your number comes up, you take the tray and thank the cooks on the other side of the steaming woks. You find an empty table against the wall and pull your purse to rest on your lap.

You focus on the food, not hungry until the veggies glisten up at you. You unwrap the chopsticks and pull them apart, innately aware of the figure waiting at the counter. He takes his to-go bag with a gristly ‘thanks’ and his thick treads grit on the floor as he turns. You poke at your plate with the stick and peer over as he nears the door.

All you see is a set of broad shoulders clothed in a grey canvas jacket, dark hair trimmed short and jutting out on top, his gloved hand gripping the door and shoving it open as he strolls out into the street. You watch through the window as he gives a look to the paper bag in his hand, as if considering its worth. 

His straight nose and square jaw gracefully take the dim lighting, his blue eyes catching a glimmer of the shining marquee. You squint and quickly avert your gaze as he looks back at the shop. You shove a twist of noodles into your mouth and focus on your plate.

You feel him there, sense the static heat of being watched. You take another bite, biting through the dangling strands of noodle. You finish half the plate before you dare to look up. He’s gone. You think. You’ll stick around a while before you go. 

Your stomach squeezes painfully with the glut of pad thai and the anxiety of your pursuit. You sit back as the thought strikes you. Was that the same man at the shop? It’s unlikely it isn’t. The silhouette, the steady, certain gait, the ominous hovering of his presence, it’s one and the same.

You exhale and shake your head. It’s just another strange encounter in New York.

🫖

Zinnia lets out an oop before you hear the shatter. You sigh and cringe as you stand and cross the open space of your apartment. Your kitchen floor is littered with shattered glass.

"I'm so sorry–" she looks at you wide eyed and bends to pick up the large shards.

"Be careful," you warn as you go to the small closet and take out the broom, "don't cut yourself."

"I didn't mean to," she says as you fish out an empty box from your recycling and drop it down for her to put the sharp bits in.

"Really, it's fine. I got that one free from the shop," you nudge her away, "I got it."

"Is that why all my gifts are from there?" She gets up with a chortle.

"Mmm, and what about my gifts? Are they still in the mail?" You chirp back.

"Hey… I only missed your birthday once."

"Once?" You drag the broom over the floor as she grabs the pan and holds it flat for you.

"Alright, fine, and what other friends even remember your birthday?"

"Apparently not even you," you scoff as you push the glass into the pan.

She pours the rest of the glass in the box and picks it up. You point her to the counter and she puts it down as you take the pan and clip it on the broom. You leave it against the wall and go back to the couch, flopping down as you scoop up your phone.

"Well, I'm the only one who'll hang out with your boring ass," she mimics you as she taps on her cell, "so, how's work anyhow? Is tea suddenly interesting?"

"It's work," you shrug, "you're hocking dildos and giving me a hard time?"

"Hey, technically my job is to give everyone a hard time."

"Shut up," you elbow her and laugh, interrupted by a sudden rattle.

"What the fuck?" Zinnia sits up and looks over the back of the couch, the window shaking in the frame.

"Fucking fire escape, I think the ladder’s loose or something."

You get up and go to the window. The escape shakes and clatters but you can't see past your floor. You turn the lock and lift the wooden frame so it scrapes loudly. 

"You got raccoons? Or maybe it's a stray?" Zinnia suggests.

You poke your head out as a dark figure flits down the last platform and slides down the ladder. Their feet hit the pavement and stomp off, sending gravel across the alley. 

"Hey!" You call after them, pulse rampant in your tamps at the unexpected stranger. "Hey, what the shit!"

You nearly bash your head as you pull back and turn to face Zinna as she watches over the cushions, "what's up?"

"There was some asshole out there. Took off."

You tramp around the couch, too uneasy to sit down.

"Was he watching us?"

"I don't fucking know," you sniff as you chew your thumb, "you want some coffee?"

"Uh, sure, but we're not gonna do anything about the weirdo out there?"

"He's gone now," you go to the kitchen and take out the canister of grinds, "what are the police gonna do anyway?"

"I guess, but…" she sighs, "yeah, I'll have some coffee."

You focus on loading the filter as you hear her typing on her phone. Suddenly, the noise of a crowd crackles from the speaker. You shut the top of the machine and hit brew. 

You take down two cups and tap your fingers on the counter, "thanks everyone for coming…" the voice drones into the crowds buzz.

"Ugh, he's so fucking hot!" Zinnia squeals.

"Who?" You mumble as you spin to face her.

"Well, both of them, but–"

"Thanks, we couldn't have done it without the local PD," the deep voice distracts you from Zinnia's raving. You hurry forward.

"What? Who?" You demand.

"The Falcon and that Winter Soldier guy," she turns her phone out and you see the square jaw, the stubble, the brilliant blue irises as the man's brows hang darkly over his pensive eyes. "Jesus, you look like you've seen a ghost. Come on, you know who they are."

"Y-yeah, I do, it just… sounded… like someone I know."

"Oh, you seeing someone?"

"Zin."

"Well, who?"

"No one. K? You'd think I was crazy anyway."

"Crazy?" She sits forward, "now I'm interested."

"Really, it's dumb."

"Tell me," she puts her hands together, "please. You know I love drama."

"Drama, no," you throw your hands up, "really, Zin, it's just me being me."

"Alright, you gotta tell me," she hits her phone and it mutes, "do you know Bucky Barnes?"

"No, no… no," you repeat, trying to convince yourself, "it's just at the shop, the one night there was this guy outside. Watching me. It was weird. He left but when I got out, someone followed me. I stopped at Mao's to get away."

You shake your head, it can't be.

"He came in too. Ordered something then left. I heard him, I saw him. The similarity…" you exhale, "maybe I am crazy."

"Watching you? Just that one night?"

"I haven't really seen anyone around but it feels like someone's around. Every time I lock up, maybe it's just paranoia…"

"Trust your gut, girl, you want me to walk you home?"

"Nah, it's nothing."

"What if it isn't nothing."

"Zinnia," you frame your forehead as the heat rises up your neck, "really, it can't be him."

"Doesn't matter who it is," she insists, "what about whoever was out there just now? Did they look the same?"

"I didn't get a good look. And that would rule out the Avenger."

"No, this is a recording," she drops her phone on the side table, "could you imagine? Stalked by the Winter Soldier."

"I'm not being stalked and it isn't him."

"Babe, please, you're scaring me when you should be pissing your pants. There was just some dude at your window and another at your shop. That's not a coincidence."

"Zin," you plead, "stop, you're gonna give me an anxiety attack."

"Good! You needa get your stuff and come stay with me."

"I can't. It's too far from the shop."

"Fine, I'll stay here."

"It's not… that."

"You don't know that," she stands, "and I'm sure as shit not taking that chance."

"Right, stay, you'll see. It's nothing."

"For once, I don't mind being wrong," she frowns.

[high-functioning-lokipath]

This poll is in regard to Part 2 of the Bucky x Reader miniseries.

The poll will only last 1 day.

TAG ME IN EVERYTHING

@captain-shitty-kitties

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@1marvelnerd3000

@manyfandomsfanvergent

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@nyx2021

@lovingchoices14

@sititran

@peaches1958

Marvel (all characters, including Loki)

@gaitwae

@vbecker10

@acefeather2002

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the night trilogy

a/n: oops, i decided to make a oneshot i wrote a few months back into a miniseries because my brain wouldn't stop braining.... enjoy!

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader, ex!peter parker x reader, reader’s mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), forbidden romance, explicit sexual content

polls for the story: 1 | 2

masterlist | join my taglist 

PART ONE: JUST FOR TONIGHT

PART TWO: NIGHT OUT

PART THREE: STAY FOR A FORTNIGHT (coming soon)

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[scoonsalicious]

A Scoonsalicious Masterlist

All fics are 18+ Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here. I exclusively write for Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader at this point in time, for maladaptive self-indulgent purposes.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

Individual fics will contain individual warnings.

Bucky Barnes

(Fluff 💖) (Smut ❤️‍🔥) (Angst 💔) (Horror 🖤) (Violence ❤️‍🩹) (AU 💞) (1k+ Notes 🏆)

Series

⚜️ The Pocket MCU: ❤️‍🩹 A series of miniseries and one-shot prequels featuring the MC from Unwanted, integrated into the existing narratives of the MCU films. ONGOING (Updated 5/20/24)

⚜️ Unwanted: ❤️‍🔥💔🏆When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn't be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust. COMPLETED 155.4k words (Epilogue Posted 4/27/24)

⚜️ Post-Unwanted: ❤️‍🔥💔💖 A series of miniseries and one-shot sequels set between Unwanted and Unbroken. ONGOING (Updated 7/11/24)

⚜️ Unbroken: An Unwanted Sequel: ❤️‍🔥💔💖‼️ It's a secret, but doesn't that title sound ridiculous?! BRAINSTORMING

One Shots

⚜️ Like a Fairy Tale: 💔💖🏆 Dating Bucky Barnes had been like living a fairy tale, but as he distances himself from you and your relationship, you come to the realization that maybe fairy tales aren't meant to come true. 3.4k words (Posted 3/4/24)

⚜️ Your Choice: ❤️‍🔥💖💞You're minding your own business at home one evening when local police Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes comes knocking on your door. Someone's reported a crime being committed on your property, and the sergeant can either bring you down to the station, or get you off with a warning... it's your choice. 4.3k words (Posted 3/5/24)

Series On Hiatus

⚜️ With Friends Like These...: ❤️‍🔥💔Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntyre never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You. ON HIATUS (Updated 6/17/24)

Upcoming

⚜️ Hunted ❤️‍🔥🖤❤️‍🩹 A plane crash leaves you stranded in the Canadian wilderness with the one person who can't seem to stand you: Your mission partner, Bucky Barnes. You'll have to work together and put your differences aside in order to survive and get rescued. Only, the two of you aren't alone; someone, or something, is watching you from the woods. WRITING

⚜️ Boys of Summer ❤️‍🔥💔💞 Every summer, the wealthy Barnes family escapes the heat of the city to their beach house on the New England coast, and every year for as long as you can remember, your father has been the caretaker of their property. Now your father's gone and you haven't seen Bucky Barnes since you two spent a summer night together when you were eighteen. Four years later, Bucky's returned with a slew of college friends in tow for the ultimate beach summer to celebrate his college graduation, and his recent engagement. PLANNING

[endless-ineffabilities]

Masterlist 📝

about the author: Freyja (freɪə), 20-something, Londoner, Virgo sun / Scorpio moon / Libra rising, I write as I please about whom I please (and for you, of course, on the chance that you enjoy my writing! 🖤) ~

This is a regularly updated list of my works; all are x f!Reader unless otherwise stated. I try not to include outright physical attributes for the female lead, to leave her appearance open to interpretation.

Please do NOT copy, repost, steal, or translate any of these! My works should only exist here, on Tumblr. I have not and will not post them on any other platform, nor do I consent to any other individual doing so.

⚔️ Refer here to be tagged in House of the Dragon fics ⚔️

The Sandman

Morpheus / Corinthian

Ineffable (series) *on hiatus

Corinthian

Easy on the eyes (series) (18+) *on hiatus

Morpheus

Only you can set alight the fire in me (oneshot)

House of the Dragon

Daemon Targaryen

Oneshots

Without you, I would not be

She is my heart

ñuha mērī jorrāelagon

feast

rogue ink

turning red

Series / Miniseries

but daddy, I love him (chapter one - chapter two - chapter three)

This world was never meant for a fire like yours (part one - part two (18+) - unalloyed - part three.one - )

in the shadow of your heart (part one - part two)

Aemond Targaryen

Oneshots

some jealous Aemond Targaryen scenarios

burn them all for you

a little game (modern au)

hmm (a christmas drabble)

sepār iā sylutegon (just a taste)

your heart's serrated edges are much like mine own (18+)

dragonfire

i will never say that I am in love

the sapphire and his sun

backhand stroke (tennis au)

diet pepsi (18+)

official business (president!Aemond au)

Series / Miniseries

prūmia va perzys (heart on fire) series

part one: don't you love me?

part two: and what of your love? (18+)

part three: the flames that divide (18+)

part four: the aftermath

part five: never tear us apart

part six:

part seven:

maroon (a modern au series) (18+)

sapphire-hearted (a miniseries) (18+)

of perilous desire - one: rhaenagon -

national anthem (president!Aemond au series) (18+)

Daemon and/or Aemond

A dance with two rogue dragons

If these walls could speak (18+)

midnights imagines : question...? - anti-hero - labyrinth - lavender haze -

dialogue series: King? -

Star Wars

Anakin Skywalker

As I believe in you (oneshot)

there's hope for us, yet - part 1 - part 2

MCU

Bucky Barnes

babydoll (oneshot)

reconnaissance - one - two - three

so high school - one - two

Steve Rogers / Bucky Barnes

The Bolter series - part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six -

World On Fire

Tom Bennett

tongue in cheek (one - two - three - four )

John Wick 4

Marquis Vincent de Gramont

le marquis et le moineau - (ill)fated - first dance -

Ewan Mitchell

chemical override (series)

blue eyes so green (oneshot)

x classical violinist reader (oneshot)

sun (oneshot)

[nickfowlerrr]

series masterlist

part one • part two • part four • part five

happy golden days of yore • 3

pairing: dark!bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. 18+ ONLY. future parts will contain noncon smut. 40s misogyny? pet names. masturbation. i’m just gonna say, reader is detrimentally non confrontational 🫣.

words: 2.9k

notes: so glad you guys are enjoying this miniseries! there’s only a couple parts left and i’m really excited to share them. 🖤

You awoke to the smell of bacon and coffee floating through the air and 40s jazz music playing from downstairs. You never would have thought Bucky Barnes was a morning person, but it’s not like you knew him at all. You grimaced at the memory of your lost thong and decided to try and sneak around the living room before you went into the kitchen. You got ready really quickly in the bathroom before you snuck downstairs as quietly as you could.

You moved all the cushions, pillows, and your throw blanket but couldn’t find it anywhere. It wasn’t on the stairs, or under the couch, or still in the laundry basket. You had no idea where else it would be.

“Looking for something, sweetheart?” Bucky’s voice startled you as you were on your knees, in a slightly compromising position with your ass in the air, looking under the couch one last time. You sat right up and turned to him, surely looking like a deer in headlights.

“Oh, I just thought maybe I left something down here last night,” you tried to explain without having to really explain.

“What is it, I can help you look?”

“It’s nothing, really, I-”

“Tell me,” he instructed.

“It’s just..an article of clothing,”

“What does it look like?”

“It’s black…”

“That’s descriptive,”

“It’s not a big deal, honestly,”

“Why are you being so skittish?” he asked, eyes narrowing. You got scared all of a sudden, more worried he was thinking you were up to something than anything.

“I’m not, it’s just-...I’m looking for my thong,” you told him.

You avoided eye contact for a moment but when you risked a glance at him, his face was blushing a light pink.

“Oh,” he responded, a lopsided nervous smile breaking out on his face before he schooled his expression. “Well, uh, I haven’t come across it, but if I do, I’ll make sure to..return it.”

He spun on his heels to walk back into the kitchen as you grimaced at yet another not so great encounter.

“Coffee’s on if you take any,” he offered as you passed through the doorway.

“Thanks,” you replied quietly before grabbing a mug.

“I hope you don’t mind I used some of your groceries,”

“No, not at all, feel free,” you assured him. “I brought plenty.”

“And I hope you’re hungry, food’s almost done,”

“Yeah,” you breathed, “smells great.”

“How’d you sleep?” he probed, almost too casually.

“Alright. Woke up once or twice, but,” you trailed off. “How about you?” you asked back politely.

“Best sleep I’ve had in three months,” he acknowledged.

“Three months?”

“I’ve been gone for work since September. Most of my sleeping, the little I got anyway, was done on jets, motel beds, or couches.”

“Sounds grueling,”

“I’ve had worse,” he brushed off as he set a plate down before you. Two pancakes with some of your berries on the side, some bacon, and an egg.

“Thank you so much,” you beamed. “This looks amazing. What time did you get up?” you asked as you glanced at the time to see it was only nearing 8:15.

“I’m usually up by six, habit I guess,” he answered as he sat down with his own plate. Of the three other chairs at the table, one on each side, he took the seat next to you rather than the one across. His build was big and the table wasn’t, so though it seemed a good enough distance to prevent it being awkward, he still felt really close.

You simply nodded in response before looking down at your plate. You took your fork and cut into the stack of pancakes and prayed to any being that was listening that they would be good. You weren’t the best at hiding your initial reaction to things and you knew he was watching you take that first bite.

You were pleasantly surprised at the fluffiness. They were warm and buttery and your eyes closed in tantalizing delight. You couldn’t have stopped the small, sweet moan that you made if you wanted to.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as your lashes fluttered open, your eyes meeting his intense ones, nearling drowning in the blue before you looked away and back down at the food. “These are incredible. I never would have pegged you for a chef, but wow,” you complimented.

He laughed then, a beautiful sound you would’ve admired if you weren’t still slightly hung up on the look you swore you caught in his eye just a moment ago.

You ate breakfast with a much chattier Bucky than you’d met the night before. He asked you a lot of questions; what you do for work, where you live, what you do for fun, hobbies, friends, even asked about your relationships. He was quite the smooth talker, which you really weren’t expecting. There was this easy charm about him that made him seem disarming. It was almost hard to believe this was really once the man known as the Winter Soldier. Though every now and again, this look came over him. Almost imperceptible and always fleeting, but you couldn’t ignore it once you noticed. Something dark was lurking within him. Whether that was just the presence he gave off, if you were being biased because of what you knew he did for work, or if it was really there in him, you weren’t sure. But the weather was supposed to be clearing up by tomorrow, so you wouldn’t be sticking around to find out.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After breakfast, you went upstairs to get some alone time. That was the main reason you had come to the cabin in the first place, to just get away from everyone and everything. You pulled your laptop out and decided on a movie to watch while you packed most of your things away. You wanted to be ready to go in the morning. You were fine leaving the decorations, the food, and the few items you had in the kitchen, you had your own stuff at home.

There was a knock on your door and you paused the movie and walked to open it. Unsurprisingly, you found Bucky on the other side.

“Long time no see,” you joked.

“Would you mind not having your door shut all the way?” he asked bluntly. You were slightly taken aback by his change of mood, but didn’t want to upset him any further than you apparently already had.

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, no problem,” you acquiesced.

He stood a lot taller than you and it was easy for him to look into the room behind you. He furrowed his brow when he saw one of your half packed bags on your bed before shooting you a questioning look.

You were really taken aback now, totally lost as to why he was looking at you the way he was.

“Going somewhere, doll?” he asked. There was an edge in his voice that was clear despite his attempt to hide it with a closed lip smile.

“Yeah, the uh, weather’s supposed to be cleared up by tomorrow so, I’m just getting my stuff packed,” you answered uneasily, attempting to hide your discomfort with a smile of your own. You only hoped yours wasn’t as see through as Bucky’s.

His tongue jutted out past his lips as he took in your answer before he nodded. “If you need help taking anything to your car, let me know.”

“Okay,” you breathed with a nod in return as he turned to walk away. “Thank you,” you added, watching him descend the stairs.

His behavior had you worrying you were being rude, but you couldn’t justify staying in his cabin for another three weeks just because he said he didn’t mind. It felt weird. You tried to shake off the feeling and returned to packing more clothes.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the day passed pretty quickly. You stayed upstairs for the most part but went down for food and water every so often. You heard Bucky coming in and out of the cabin a few times, but had no idea what he could be doing out there. It was possible he was getting more logs from the wood shed but he wouldn’t have had to go in and out as many times as he did if it was just that. You figured it wasn’t really any of your business, though and carried on with yourself.

You seemed to have a hard time with the thought that maybe he was upset at you. It was odd because that feeling wasn’t a common occurrence in your life. You didn’t normally care what people thought of you, but the idea that you had bothered this guy so much was getting to you.

When you’d made yourself lunch, you made him a sandwich, too. He was doing some kind of work on his tablet while he sat on the couch in the living room. You set the plate down on the coffee table that was in front of him while you held yours in your other hand.

“I don’t know if you’ve eaten or not yet, but,” you started as you pushed the plate toward him. He looked over from his work to the plate and then up to you, almost surprised before a charming smile grew on his face.

“Thanks, sweetheart. That’s thoughtful of you,” he said appreciatively.

You smiled back before you headed to the staircase, feeling slightly better about the tension that you felt was so evident earlier. You were clearly reading into things.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You pulled the pan of chicken from the oven as the timer on the stove began ringing. The smell of Italian herbs filled the air as you set the baked chicken to rest. You’d just finished the mashed potatoes and the broccoli was ready to go, too.

You hadn’t planned on making another dinner tonight, but Bucky came by your room and asked you if you wouldn’t mind and you just couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You didn’t want to be rude and it was your last night here. Plus you figured you wouldn’t be cooking like this again for a while, you couldn’t remember the last time you had cooked this much for yourself since you had moved out on your own.

You assumed the timer going off prompted Bucky to head to the kitchen because he appeared shortly after. You served both of you and sat down at the table once you got the glasses of water.

“So, uh, I’ll probably be heading out early tomorrow,” you began as you cut into your chicken breast.

“So you said,” he replied shortly.

“Right. I don’t know if you’ll be up when I leave, so I just want to say thank you, again,” you looked up at him, almost shy, nervous. The energy shifted yet again at your mention of leaving and he seemed a bit peeved.

“You mentioned John would come up here in January, did you want to set a date?” you asked, treading lightly.

He looked at you then, thinking for a moment before he spoke.

“I’ll call you,” he answered stoically.

“Okay. I’ll write my number down before I go,”

There was a tense silence between the two of you as you continued to eat.

You were growing more and more uncomfortable until Bucky cleared his throat, taking a sip of water and swallowing hard, sucking his teeth before he spoke.

“So, you have plans when you get home?” he asked, causing you to look up from your plate to him.

“No,” you shook your head, “not really.”

“Just tryin’ get out of here as fast as you can, huh?”

“Wha- no. It’s not - I’m not,”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I get it, you don’t have to explain. All alone out here with the one time Winter Soldier. Doubt many would’ve stayed as long as you have already,”

“Really, Bucky. It’s not that. You seem like a really great guy. I just, I know you said you like your solitude, and I do, too. And I hate feeling like I’m intruding in your space. I think it’d just be better the sooner I go,” you tried to explain without offending him again.

He nodded softly as he averted his gaze, something akin to sadness swimming in the depths of his blue eyes. The apparent vulnerability had you rethinking what you’d thought about him previously.

“Well, thank you for dinner, doll. It was delicious,” he said as he stood from the table, taking his nearly empty plate to the sink before you heard him head upstairs.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself under your breath, feeling absolutely awful.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You finished up in the kitchen after Bucky left and made sure to clean up the mess from dinner. You found a scrap piece of paper and wrote down your name and number before putting it up on the fridge with a magnet. You went upstairs and did one last go over your room, making sure you had everything ready to go in the morning. You grabbed your towel and a pair of pajamas and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower before you went to bed.

As you stood under the warm water, washing the suds of soap off your body, you thought you heard a creaking from the other side of the bathroom door. You peeked your head past the shower curtain and saw who you could only assume was Bucky’s shadow passing under the door frame. You quirked a brow, wondering where he was going but didn’t give it much more thought as you returned to finishing up under the water.

As you were drying off with your towel, you cursed under your breath as you realized you’d forgotten to grab a bra and a clean pair of panties. You bit your lip as you considered just running across the hall with your towel wrapped tight and pjs in your arms or just putting your pjs on and forgoing the undergarments completely. That wasn’t a problem for you normally, in fact it was a slightly common occurrence, but regrettably, the sleep shirt you’d grabbed was near see through and if you ran any risk of bumping into Bucky when you ran to the room, you’d rather it be in your towel than with your chest on display.

You finished drying off as best you could before rewrapping the towel around your body. You held your pjs under your arm and opened the door to scurry to the room, only to bump directly into a waiting Bucky.

His hands came out to steady you and you felt your skin warm beneath his touch.

“Oh my god,” you floundered as you gripped your towel tighter.

“I’m sorry, doll. I was just about to knock and ask if you needed anything taken to your car before I went to bed,” he explained, hands still holding you.

“I think I got it,” you chirped, just wanting to move past him already. You moved to sidestep him and only then did he drop his hands. You tried to ignore the way he had been looking at you from the moment you bumped into him. Heavy and dark. As you scampered past him into your room you could still feel his gaze on your curvy, rounded figure.

“Good night,” you called as you entered the room and turned to shut and lock the door behind you.

“Night, doll,” he said quietly as he watched you still.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You only woke up once during the night, but the reason why was more disturbing than it had been the night previous.

You had left your door just barely ajar and put one of your duffle bags right behind it before you went to bed. You didn’t think Bucky would come into your room while you were sleeping or anything, but the night’s earlier encounter just had you feeling a little more vulnerable than you’d already felt.

Still, with the door partially open you could hear all the weary creaks of the cabin and the bumps that sounded from out in the hall. And with Bucky’s own door open, the noises from his room easily made their way into yours.

You thought you were imagining things at first, but the more awake you became, the more clearly you heard the sound of barely restrained grunts, and the wet squelching noises that only seemed to get rhythmically louder in sync with them, coming from across the hall.

Your heart was racing as you realized what it was you were hearing.. As you realized what it was that Bucky was doing.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to roll over without causing the bed to squeak under your weight.

You tried to tell yourself it was only human. Everybody does it. Who were you to judge what someone else does in the supposed privacy of their own bedroom in the middle of the night. Still, the thought of his eyes on you, his heavy gaze trailing up and down your body the way it did - the way it had even when he first saw you…there was something a little too intense there. It wasn’t right to assume things about people, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that your image might be somewhere in his thoughts as he got himself off.

You pulled a pillow over your head as you laid on your side and, gratefully, fell asleep sooner than you thought you’d be able to as you tried to ignore the strangled moan that sounded from across the hall and the odd sensation it sent through you before the near silence of the cabin returned.

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Wild

Over the years, Y/N has found that in times of great need, a wolf appears to aid her. She relies on its presence until one day, her wolf is in need of her help instead.

A Lycanthrope!Bucky Barnes x Reader Miniseries.

This miniseries is complete!

Fic dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

[smolvenger]

Smolvenger Fanfiction Masterlist Updated 8/4/24

If you want to be tagged, let me know!! :)

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, AND ASKS ABOUT MY WORK ARE APPRECIATED! THANK YOU!!!

Star Wars:

Oneshots-

Life Day Gift: Din Djarin x Fem! Reader:

The Mandalorian kept looking directly at you through his helmet. “Where…where did you get that necklace?” he asked. “Old friend, Life Day Gift,” you answered.

Years ago you were friends with a young boy named Din, assumed to be dead when your village was attacked. Now it's Life Day, and the day shift at your job brings a Mandalorian with a secret...an unexpected reunion. (Warnings: Mentions of death and violence and an asshole kid at the beginning, mainly fluff)

Marvel:

Oneshots-

The Most Wonderful Time- Bucky Barnes x fem! Reader: Often, he sat down- troubled. Eyes glazing over nothing but there was something inside him. Something he wouldn’t say

Bucky isn't doing too well at the Christmas celebration with your family. You go to cheer him up. (Warnings: smut with dom! Reader and sub! Bucky, some fluff)

(Not) Alone on Christmas- Bucky Barnes x trans! Masc! Reader:

“You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend!?” Bucky cried, hands on his hips.

You and Bucky fake date around the holidays. But you're definitely not interested in each other...unless...

(Warning: Brief Transphobic family member who gets shut down, some angst, but a lot of fluff)

Series-

I Say Nothing That Frightens Me: Loki x Fem! Reader.

Loki is alive and once I find him, I will tell him how I feel and-” “Y/N, he’s there with a woman he’s fallen in love with…”

Frigga sends you on a mission to find her son, who you secretly have feelings for since you were friends throughout your childhood. When you locate him with the TVA, you learn that he has fallen for some other woman named Sylvie and not you... More Coming Soon! (Warnings: Lots of angst, and an eventual happy ending)

Chapter One //Chapter Two//Chapter Three//Chapter Four Finale Coming Soon!(Continuing. Will be in Four Parts)

A Court of Mischief and Purpose: Loki x fem! Reader

“It is one week. Or you can kiss your life and your precious priest goodbye.”

Series Summary: Sarah J Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series is reimagined with Tom Hiddleston's various characters. You are dying of tuberculosis right before your upcoming wedding to the Lusty Vicar of Aldwinter, Will Ransome. The god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you in time for the wedding...if you spend a week of every month with him. Opening you to a world of more magic and danger than you ever could imagine...

Masterlist Link here (ongoing!)

Masterlist for The Boat in the Water: A Beauty and the Beast Story: Loki x Stella Ransome miniseries

Summary: Having lost her health and her husband's fidelity and love, Stella has nothing more to lose than her life. Then...she is swept away to another realm, to an enchanted castle. A castle whose master is a god...a god with a striking resemblance to her husband.

One// Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven (finale, TBD)

Tom Hiddleston Characters:

Oneshots-

Professor! Tom Hiddleston

Exam Aid- Prof! Tom x Reader (Request)

“Hello class- good morning. I’m your professor- Professor Hiddleston.”

When finals have gotten you down, your Shakespeare professor offers some help...and motivation... (SMUT)

Hot for Teacher- Prof! Tom x Reader (Request)

“Oh…he hasn’t said anything about a girlfriend, do you think…he’s single?!”

Summary: After being private about your relationship, your professor boyfriend, Tom Hiddleston, introduces you to his students.

Loki

The Ceremony- Loki x fem! Reader

"Now, all of you wish to watch? Then watch."

Summary: You and your dear prince, Loki of Asgard, are finally getting married. But in order for the marriage to be legitimate, your wedding night and consummation must be witnessed… (SMUT)

Seven PM Sharp- Loki x fem! Reader

Stupid, beautiful asshole with a great ass.

Summary: A sudden dinner "for the Avengers" changes everything about the relationship between you and a certain mischievous god... (SMUT)

The King of Asgard- Loki x fem! Reader

“Hail the King Loki! Hail the Queen Y/N!”

As the wife of Prince Loki of Asgard, you suddenly discover that Odin and Thor are gone. You are made queen and your dear husband is king. But a king needs an heir...(SMUT)

Reunion- Loki x fem! Reader

"He’s been gone for a bit- it’s been a few days."

The sacred timeline is destroyed. And your missing, mischievous lover has returned. A confrontation and a fear of abandonment and betrayal with his return still bring about the passion you have for each other. (SMUT)

Yggdrasil- Loki x fem! Reader

“Please…take me to him…it is all I want, all I wish, all I ask for..."

Your husband, the god of mischief, has made the ultimate sacrifice for his friends, and the world...he lives, but now he is alone...that is until you choose to join him in his solitude and make a life there.

My Goddess- Loki x fem! Curvy/Plus-Sized! Reader (Request)

'Don’t get carried away. You’re just not meant for romance, Y/N'

Amidst the pressures of school and your personal insecurities, you never expect your crush on the god of Mischief to be reciprocated...

Crimson Peak

Handsome Enough to Tempt Me.: Sir Thomas Sharpe x fem! Reader.

Yes, he was a stranger. Yes, you were alone with a man. But he seemed kind.

You were looking forward to a ball, but no one will dance with you and the night is turning sour. That is until you cross paths with a baronet with a talent for inventing... (TW: brief mentions of past abuse, but lots of fluff, a wee bit of hurt/comfort)

Half Agony, Half Hope: Sir Thomas Sharpe x fem! Reader

"And there’s something else…something you must know about me, about the man who’s going to be your husband…”

Your engagement with Thomas Sharpe makes him reveal the trauma of his childhood abuse with you. (TW: Mentions of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse)

Coriolanus

Twenty-Seven Wounds- Caius Martius Coriolanus x fem! Reader

After a few months, you realized something- you had never seen him bare.

In ancient times, in a place that calls itself Rome, you find yourself married to the general Caius Martius or Coriolanus. He has fought so many battles he has twenty-seven scars on his body. Scars that he has not shown you yet...

The Night Manager

Summer In Majorca: Jonathan Pine x fem! Reader

“Listen, the point is- I will not be the one you settle for just because you can’t have Jed!” you cried.

A trip to Spain alongside Roper and his crew had you cross paths with a man mysterious as he is kind and heroic as he is handsome. But it seems he has eyes for Jed and not you...

(Warnings: Eventual Smut)

High-Rise

The Cure for Virginity: Dr. Robert Laing x fem! Reader

Men have the brothel. Women have Laing.

You recently moved into the High-Rise and befriended the Residents. But your new friend, Charlotte, thinks you've been a virgin for too long. She suggests someone to help with that. The best amenity in the building: Doctor Robert Laing.

Warnings: 18+, Eventual SMUT!!!!

Series:

The Essex Serpent

Stella of Essex or The Vicar's Wife Betrayed: Some Stella Ransome x Will Ransome, Eventually Stella Ransome x Male OC

"Aldwinter was not filled with the sound of a hissing Serpent but the crying of women and especially of wives."

What does that say when men, even priests, are the ones free to misbehave and innocent women are the ones punished? Here, we explore the life of a young woman named Stella. Sweet and proper, she is naturally the ideal woman for the 19th century's expectations, as well as those for a minister's wife. She falls in love and marries a handsome vicar named William Ransome. Despite the challenges, they build a peaceful, happy life together in their small town. But then Stella Ransome not only catches consumption but discovers her beloved husband is having an affair...

TW: Discussions of cheating and the trauma and grief it brings but the cheated-on spouse gets revenge). If you don't want to read about Will or Cora or their affair being portrayed negatively, you have been warned.The series is now complete!

Link to Masterlist Here

Prologue//One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight//Nine//

Ten//Eleven//Twelve//Thirteen//Fourteen//Fifteen//Sixteen//

Seventeen

Stella's Second Husband: Stella Ransome x Male OC, a little of Stella x Will if you squint.

"Then, when I die. When I see God before judging my actions. I’ll only tell him- Lord, I loved a precious woman...And if I die from my love for her, then I can think of no sweeter death.”

Act One//Act Two (Complete)

The Pain of Being Betrayed by the ones you love hurts deeper than the bite of any mythical Serpent. Can Stella move on from Will and find a happy future with her new husband, Harry Cavardossi?

Warnings: Discussions of Suicidal Intentions. We get Two Tom Hiddleston's fighting each other. Some Steamy Stuff but no actual graphic smut. Drunkenness.

War Horse

Miss Narracott and The Captain: Captain James Nicholls x fem! Reader

Goodness, the uniform really did make him even more attractive! It made you dizzy.

Part One//Part Two//Part Three//Part Four//Part Five//Part Six//Part Seven//Part Eight-Finale Coming Soon!

Summary: You are Y/N Narracott, the older sister of Albert Narracott. You must do what you can so your family can keep their farm. And so your brother can keep his beloved horse. Under financial struggles, you never expect romance to come into your life...until you have a chance encounter with James Nicholls- a Captain with a knack for drawing. (Continuing)

Warnings: Light Slow Burn, some fluff, and some angst.

How To Fake Date A Spy: Jonathan Pine x fem! Reader

“Tell everyone you’re a couple, now. Go to a few parties and restaurants, hold arms, and smile at each other. Maybe a kiss on the cheek, sometimes!"

Part One//Part Two//Part Three Coming Soon!

When you joined your sister, Jed, for a lovely summer in Spain, you wanted to enjoy yourself. Instead, you have to deal with numerous men of Roper's business having a gross interest in you for more than small talk. Going to Roper for help, he offers an idea- pretending to be the date of his newest friend. A handsome sous-chef known as Thomas Quince. Little do you know yet, the man's real name is Jonathan Pine and he is on a mission to take Roper down...

The Hollow Crown

Used Goods- Prince Hal x Reader.

Why does he have to be The Prince of Wales? Why couldn’t he be just a tailor?

You are betrothed to your darling prince Hal, but the Law of Contract demands that you must be a virgin to marry the future King of England. This forces you to confirm a traumatic incident and secret from your past...how will Hal react? TW: Discussions of past sexual assault,"Who did this to you?", Hurt/Comfort, and comforting fluff.

Part One// Part Two

The Twelve Days- Prince Hal x Reader.

“You, luckiest of girls, are betrothed to marry none other than the King of England!” your mother cheered.

You were betrothed to marry none other than the young kind of England, a man you had never met. Now you must face your first celebration of the Twelve Days of Christmas not only as a queen but as a wife in a royal and still unconsummated marriage... TW: Smut, only a little angst, and lots of fluffy and romantic moments.

(Now Complete!)

One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight

The Queen's Abduction- Henry V x fem! Reader (Request)

"You may not fear my father,  you may not fear my brother- but you will fear the wrath of his majesty, the king"

Shortly after your secret marriage to the king of England, Henry V, a nefarious villain abducts you to be his...

Nursing The Prince- Prince Hal x fem! Reader

"You look at the prince like he was a honey-cake!"

You tend to Prince Hal's wounds after the Battle of Shrewsbury.

Arise Fair Sun- Henry V x fem! Reader

"Here, there are no eyes watching us. I can speak to you honestly"y.

One night, Henry appears under your balcony to confess his feelings to you.

The Wedding of The King- Henry V x fem! Reader

As king, Henry could have anything...But he could not have a wife who loved him.

Henry is looking forward to the wedding of his arranged marriage to you. You as The Bride, however, are not...

(Small Spinoff of The Twelve Days but can be read without that context)

The Battle of Agincourt- Henry V x fem! Reader

"The camp is far off. They won’t disturb us. They won’t hear us..."

As his wife and queen, you follow your husband, Henry the Fifth to France for his battles. It is the morning of the battle of Agincourt, and you don't know if he will make it out alive. You spend one last moment of passion together. (Contains Smut)

After The Battle- Henry V x fem! Reader

For many men, the lust for battle was only a flip of a coin from the lust of the body. 

After your husband, King Henry V, wins and survives the battle of Agincourt, you meet him in his tent to reward him... (Contains smut)

The Tavern Prince- Prince Hal x Fem! Proper! Reader

You hated that he was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on.

You are shocked and unhappy to find out you are betrothed to notorious rake, Prince Hal. But one evening, he sneaks you into the Boar's Head Tavern...and your mind about him starts to change. (SMUT)

BIRTHDAY BLURB MASTERLIST TBD

Taglist: @4stary @sonyascomet @asgards-princess-of-mischiefvelyn-kingsley @five-miles-over @jennyggggrrr @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @villainousshakespeare

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, DMS, AND ASKS ABOUT MY WORK ARE APPRECIATED! THANK YOU!!! If anyone wants to be added to the taglist or removed, please let me know! Thanks y'all!

[slytherinbarnes]

back to you

pairings: established relationship!poe dameron x reader, kylo ren x reader

warnings: pwp, smut (18+), language, cheating, recreational drug usage

word count: 3.4k

summary: what happens when your rational thoughts get locked away, leaving only your inhibitions?

author’s note: this is based loosely on a bucky barnes miniseries i wrote on a previous blog (props to you if you know the og!) and it kinda popped into my head while I was working on my choose your own ending star wars series! 

Your eyes sweep over the lowly lit underground club, searching for any familiar faces. 

The crowd of people gathered near the all droid band is thick, and it seems to sway and move in time with the heavy beat thundering through the room. You toss back the neon green drink in your hand, nearly sighing in relief at the acidic burn sliding down your throat, your mind grateful to focus on anything other than the disaster of a mission you just returned from. 

Poe was furious at the way you risked your life to save a family from the clutches of the First Order, but you couldn't help it. It had happened almost entirely on instinct, some silent force guiding you to them before your brain even caught on to what you were doing. He and Leia gave you an earful when you got back to the hidden Resistance base, and Poe had stormed off in the end, heading straight for the hangar, the way he always did. He was in the cockpit of his X-wing and in the sky before you could even finish calling out his name. 

You didn’t mean to end up here, in one of the seediest spots in the galaxy, but old habits die hard. You spent most of your teenage years in this very same spot, wrapped up in backdoor business deals and illegal weapons trading after you fell in love with the wrong girl. It was too easy to fall into her lifestyle, to make a million credits in back rooms with all the wrong people, then blow a quarter of it in a single night at bars just like this one. You learned how to find the best underground spots with the worst types of people, and Sasha loved you for it.

But that war years ago, and you thought you left places like this behind when you joined the Resistance. Guess you were wrong. 

You feel a drink nudge your hand, and you turn to look over your shoulder at the bartender, a glowing blue drink in his orange hand, held out to you. “From the gentleman at the end of the bar.”

You take the drink, turning to look at the figure hunched over in the seat at the end of the bar. He’s in all black, his face shrouded in shadows, and you raise the glass to him in a toast, tossing it back in one swallow without another thought. You feel the liquid warm your body as it moves through you, and you feel your mind sink deeper into your inhibitions, shutting the door to your rational thoughts. 

The droid band near the center of the room changes songs, the sound turning to something fast and bass heavy, the crowd getting excited by the change. You feel yourself heading to the dance floor, your body already moving to the beat of the song. You lift your hands above your head, smiling and throwing your head back as you sway to the music, forgetting everything that happened earlier in the day. 

The band transitions to a different song, the beat slowing down and the bass thrumming beneath your feet. You close your eyes and sway your hips, letting the music move through you and take over. You feel yourself start to get thirsty, and you tell yourself that you’ll head to the bar at the end of the song, but salvation comes in the form of a tall man dressed in all black. 

“Thirsty?”

You look up at him, getting a better look at the face that was previously hidden in the shadows. A scar runs over his right eye and down his cheek, and his dark hair brushes his broad shoulders. His large hand is holding a drink out to you, this one a dark red color. You take the drink with a smile of thanks, the rim of the glass coated in something spicy, making the drink burn even more as it moves down your throat. 

You hand the drink back to the man, and he looks you up and down. Normally, you’d shrink under a gaze so intense, but the drinks in your system have you confident, your body still unconsciously swaying to the beat of the music. 

“Open your mouth.”

The rational thoughts bang on the door, begging to be heard, but your inhibitions are strong and loud, and you open your mouth like the man asks, completely unconcerned as he presses a pill to your tongue, his finger dragging over your lip as he pulls it from your mouth. You see him put a pill on his own tongue as the one in your mouth dissolves quickly, something sweet mixed in to mask the bitter taste of spice. 

It hits you quickly; your whole body feels light and warm, and the music is no longer just moving through you, it’s a part of you. It’s in your head and in your bones and it moves you on its own, swaying your body around and moving you closer to the tall man. His hands reach out to pull you closer, your back pressed to his front, his hips bumping against you as you grind into him. 

You feel him everywhere that you feel the music, his scent wrapped around you as you move in tandem. You feel a sheen of sweat across your forehead, but you aren’t bothered by it, too focused on the sensations building within you. There’s a warm fire growing in the base of your stomach, electric pulses running up your spine as you start to grow hotter. It takes you far too long to recognize it as the burn of arousal, your mind too focused at first on the sensations of pleasure that it brings you. 

The man’s hands are running up your body, over your abdomen and up to your breast, his fingers skating along the edge of your tank and brushing the tops of your breasts. His head is dipped so his mouth is near your neck, his warm breath spreading across your neck as you move in sync. You feel his arousal at your back, and you make yourself taller so you can grind against it, eliciting a moan that is breathed across your neck. The sensation sends a tingle down your spine and right between your legs, and you feel the man adjust his height so your butt is pressed against him. 

You grind against his erection, eyes closed as you take in the soft moans he breaths across your neck before his mouth dips to kiss the sensitive skin there. He nips at you, his tongue instantly swiping across the spot to soothe the pain and stoke the fire burning within you. You turn your head towards him, using one of your hands to lift his chin and envelope his mouth in a kiss, and his tongue is in your mouth almost as soon as your lips touch. You’re ashamed to say that you don’t think of Poe once; you’re too wrapped up in this man and the music and how they’re making you feel. 

The man spins you around in his arms, turning you to face him, his mouth devouring yours as soon as you’ve turned around. His hands continue roaming your body, one of them sliding beneath your shirt to touch the skin of your stomach. His hand moves towards your breast slowly, as if he’s waiting for you to stop him, but you never do. And when his fingers grasp your nipple and give it a small pinch, you moan into his mouth, the nerves in your body lighting you up with arousal. The spice pill he gave you has awakened every single cell in your body, each sensation feeling more powerful than the last, and you want nothing more than to lose yourself completely. 

You grab the man’s erection as his teeth grasps onto your lower lip, and you pull away slowly, suppressing a moan as your lip slips from his teeth. “Take me somewhere.”

He gives you a smirk, understanding what you’re asking, and it seems unusually playful on his serious face. He pulls his hand out of your shirt and takes your hand in his, leading you towards the bar so he can grab his cloak. He tugs you down a dark hallway, stopping to turn and press your back into the wall and kiss you. Your hands and mouth are hungry, roaming, trying to take in as much of him as you can and he lets out a little laugh when he finally pulls away. 

He clasps the cloak around his neck and tugs a black scarf from the inside pocket, placing it around your neck and tugging it over your head and across your face to protect you from the air outside. You’re grateful for it, because the wind is strong when he tugs you outside, the air dry and sandy, tossing sharp particles around and around. You hadn’t brought anything with you, because you never intended to end up here, and you remember the many nights you and Sasha would stumble out of this same door, drunk and unprotected, the sand leaving scratches all over you both. 

The man leads you around the corner to one of the many hotels in the area, just another seedy location to conduct illegal or illicit activities, just like you’re about to do now. He pulls you into the first hotel you cross paths with, straight into a brightly lit lobby and a too small front desk. The man digs in his pockets for the required credits while the creature behind the desk finds a key, and you reach out for the man, unable to keep your hands off of him as the drinks and spice flow through your veins. 

You haven’t once stopped to think about who could’ve seen you in the club or in this hotel; and you know the man in front of you hasn’t either. Few people would recognize him without the black mask he wears or the modulator that changes his voice. You tug the scarf away from your mouth and lean forward to kiss Kylo’s neck in the way that you know he likes. The creature behind the counter takes his credits and passes him a key, and Kylo’s hand goes to your throat, squeezing lightly as he guides your mouth to meet his. His tongue sweeps into your mouth and fights with yours before he pulls away and leads you down the hall to the room number attached to the key. 

He unlocks the door and swings it open, pulling you into his arms as he lets the door fall shut behind him, and he turns you to press your back into it. The wait to the hotel was clearly excruciating for you both, because Kylo tugs the scarf off of you, one hand held around your throat and the other underneath your shirt again, playing with your breasts. You reach up and tug off his cloak and his shirt, both of you pulling away for a second to get the shirt over his head before your lips collide in a kiss once more. 

Your hands roam over his bare chest, his skin warm and muscles tight, and you moan when his mouth drops to your neck and nips and sucks at your skin. You feel yourself grow hot, every part of you alive and involved in this moment, and it almost feels like too much, just kissing him. 

Kylo pulls away from you to tug off your shirt, and he drops and pulls your left nipple into his mouth, making you moan. His other hand plays with your right breast, teasing the nipple and sending zaps of arousal to your core. You reach out and palm Kylo’s erection, smiling when he thrusts into your hand, searching for friction. Your hands grab his waistband and tug his pants down, almost moaning when his dick springs free. He kicks his shoes off and pants free and you lower yourself to your knees in front of him, grabbing his dick and licking up his shaft before pulling him into your mouth. 

You look up and lock eyes with Kylo, and he moans at the eye contact as you bob on his dick. His right hand moves to your hair, fisting into it and guiding himself deeper into your mouth, and you suppress the urge to gag. He moans as he watches you, forcing himself to keep eye contact though his body just wants him to close his eyes and surrender to the feel of you sucking his dick. 

You can tell he’s getting close when he uses his grip in your hair to slow your pace down, holding his orgasm at bay. He guides your mouth off of his dick and up to meet his in a kiss. It’s intense and frantic, and Kylo has the rest of your clothes off in seconds before he pulls you up into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist, his dick pressed between the two of you, pulling a moan from your throat that Kylo swallows greedily. 

He turns and lowers you onto the bed, kissing you hard before his mouth drops to your neck, and then your breasts, your stomach. He passes right past the apex of your thighs, the place you want him more than anything, and down to press a kiss to your knee, then the middle of your thigh. He uses his large hands to spread your legs wide, and he moans a little when he gets a good look at you. His eyes are dark with desire, and he’s looking at you hungrily. You don’t shrink beneath his gaze, you grow beneath it, feeling powerful for being able to bring a man like him to his knees. 

When his tongue swipes over you and taps against your clit, your back arches off the bed, a long moan pulling from your lips. It's everything you thought it would be, the spice making the experience 100 times better, brighter, every part of you involved in the moment. He sucks at your clit as he presses two fingers inside of you, and your eyes squeeze closed as you focus on the sensation of Kylo eating you out. He adds a third finger, curving them inside of you to hit that spot just there, an explosion of arousal hitting you like a TIE fighter. 

You cry out, the sensation almost too much, and you open your eyes to look at Kylo, your hand reaching up to push him away. But he uses his free hand to grab you before you can stop him, and he intertwines his fingers with yours, the gesture oddly intimate despite the way he’s sending you hurtling towards your orgasm. Every brush of his fingers over that spot of pleasure has you seeing stars, and he is relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure. He watches you intensely, and you try to keep your eyes on him the way he likes you to.

It only takes a few more seconds for your orgasm to build to its peak, soft cries falling from your mouth as you near the top. Kylo picks up the pace, and one nip to your clit is all it takes for you to fall over the edge. You hold his gaze as long as you can, but your orgasm is strong, and it pushes you back into the pillows as you cry out, everything exploding with stars. You feel yourself twitching with pleasure as Kylo continues to eat you out, refusing to miss a single drop, until finally, it is too much, and you push him away, overstimulated. 

Kylo crawls up your body and kisses you, his tongue in your mouth, your taste all over him. Pleasure is still rolling through you, and you want that for Kylo too, so you stretch your legs out and wrap them around him, using the heels of your feet to tug him closer. He pulls away and laughs softly under his breath, his smile tugging at something in you. It hits you like a punch to the gut, but you don’t have time to process it because Kylo plunges into you, forcing a moan from both of you. 

Kylo leans down to kiss you as he pulls out and then pushes back in again, swallowing your moan. There is no slow build up in the pace; he’s slamming into you within seconds, unable to hold back any longer. He pulls away to keep his eyes on yours, while one of his hands reaches down between you and moves to your clit, trying to build up your second orgasm before he can reach his own. His pace is almost punishing, but your orgasm begins to build regardless, unable to resist his expert fingers. 

You feel your eyes close as he fucks you, and his voice nearly startles you when he says, “Look at me. Keep your eyes open.”

Your eyes open to meet his, his gaze as intense as his pace, your body climbing and climbing until you can see that peak. You try to hold back, wanting to see Kylo come first, but you know he won't let you. You keep your eyes open as long as you can, but everything goes white when you orgasm for the second time, and you throw your head back again as you fall apart beneath him. 

Kylo’s pace moves faster, though you didn’t think it possible, fucking you through your orgasm, until finally, finally, he comes too. His head drops to your shoulder, a long moan falling from his lips before he mutters your name over and over like a silent prayer. His hips finally grow still, though his body continues twitching with pleasure as he sags against you, and you can feel his heart thumping in his chest where it’s pressed against you. 

You run your fingers up and down his back, both of your eyes closed as you try to let your heart rates return to normal. The moment is oddly intimate, though you try not to think about it, refusing to let the rational thoughts out of their tightly locked door. 

-

You search the floor for your discarded pants, unsurprised to find them kicked under the bed. You snatch them up, pulling them on, all while Kylo watches you from the bed. He’s completely naked, sprawled on top of the sheets, his arms resting behind his head, completely relaxed. He watches you quietly as you tug on your clothes, and when you sit on the bed to pull on your shoes, he slides off and grabs the scarf he gave you earlier. You stand in front of him, and he reaches up to run his finger down a cut on your face, one you forgot you had until this moment. But it reminds you how you got it, a mission nearly gone wrong, and you mutter, “You nearly killed me today.”

“Hardly.” You both know he’s right. The force that guided you to save that family? It was the knowledge that Kylo would never do anything to hurt you, despite the fact that you left him for the Resistance. He drapes the scarf around your neck and you start to argue against it, but he cuts you off. “Where does flyboy think you are?”

You shrug. “Dunno. He stormed off after he gave me an earful about my dangerous actions today.”

“He won’t notice the scarf.”

“He might.”

“He won’t.”

Right again. You won’t admit it though. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“I know.”

You both know you aren’t going to stop. 

Kylo leans down to kiss you, and it’s soft. Affectionate. It tugs at you the way his smile did earlier. You can feel the door holding the rational thoughts back shaking, the hinges getting loose. You don’t want to leave, but you know you have to. Everything will fall apart if you stay any longer. 

Kylo pulls back, pushes your hair out of your face, and pulls the scarf onto your head. He crosses the bottom part of the scarf over your mouth and nose, leaving only your eyes exposed. You look up at him as he presses one last kiss to your forehead, your heart aching, and then you move past him, refusing to look back because you know it’ll only break your resolve. 

You slide out of the hotel room, closing the door softly behind you, before heading back to your ship, back to the Resistance, back to Poe, and away from the man you can’t seem to leave behind.

-

[justkending]

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 5/7)

Mini-Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader (Enemies to Lovers) (Fake Marriage Trope)

A/N: I think we are staying on track for this to wrap up within two more chapters, but again, we are both in the dark if that's the case😂 Thank you guys for the love! If you are wanting to be tagged, please send me an ask. It's a lot easier for me to keep track of who's been added and who hasn't :)

_________

Y/N’s POV:

Okay, so maybe I blew up a little more than necessary, but I tried to chill out before he started chasing me, ordering that I didn’t walk away and talk to him. Let a girl try to get a hold of her emotions for a second big guy.

I’ve been anxious all day, waiting to talk to him about some deep seeded trauma, and then he comes and screws up all of it with a simple exception to an invitation. I know he didn’t mean harm by it, but he’s a trained professional. That was not a trained professional response. Plus, stepping out of my normal routine of being a bitch to him to keep him at a distance wasn’t just a switch I could flip.

Again, I could have handled that better, but now my brain is in mission mode, trying to reprogram what this night has set up for us. Considering the invitation was for tonight, it gave me little to no time to prepare.

“What time did she say dinner was?” I shouted from my bedroom, where I was going through our small, hidden arsenal of gadgets Tony had made for us.

“Six,” Bucky replied from his room down the hall.

Great, that was forty-five minutes from now… “Ok, I can do this.” Deciding it was best to keep some bugs on hand in case we could plant them in the house, and we would be planting them, I needed to consider sizes and placements.

“Should we bring over some wine or something?” Bucky’s voice was now in the doorway to my room, but I kept my back to him as I sifted through our tools.

“I made a pie earlier today. We can take that,” I answered absentmindedly.

“Why’d you make a pie?”

“Felt like it,” I shrugged and walked out of the closet with three small wires/ bugs in hand. When I looked up, I saw he had changed into a nicer button-up and was tightening a tie around his collar he hadn't been wearing earlier. “Why are you wearing a tie?” I examined him.

“Same reason you’re wearing a nicer dress. I want to make a good impression,” he shrugged, straightening pieces of his outfit.

“I’m wearing this because we were going to our ‘anniversary dinner,’” I made sure to put the lie in hand quotes. “I had a story that went with it, but this can pass as casual, too,” I motioned to my dress and moved toward him, placing the wires on the bed. “This looks like you’re about to give a sales pitch.”

Without thinking, I pop his collar up and loosen the tie to get rid of it. The whole time I’m focusing on untying it, I ramble about what the plan is for the night.

“I’m going to give you a wire to put wherever you see fit, and I’ll do the other two. I’ll excuse myself to use the bathroom and sneak it where it’s needed. I feel it’s important we look for cameras already in the house in case it’s a setup. We don’t need them having hard proof that we bugged their place. We want to come off as simple yet good assets if we want them to bring us on board for their work,” I struggle with a certain spot on the tie he somehow fixed in an efficient way I’d never seen. “Jesus, were you a sailor in another life? Might as well have knotted it.”

He doesn’t respond, but I get it off in the next two seconds and look at him to see he had been studying me intently as I invaded his space. I see my slip-up, push the tie into his chest, and take a step back.

“Sorry.”

“No problem,” he answers rather calmly, and I look at his eyes, seeing patience there. Always that damn patience. How did he still have it with me even with how I’ve treated him? “Listen-”

“About last night,” I say at the same time, and he seems shocked but gives a single nod to tell me to continue. “I want to say I’m sorry for being all over the place recently. From last night to thirty minutes ago.”

He seems frozen by my apology, and I became anxious enough that I start to word vomit.

“I took some time to think after last night and spent the day stressing, thinking how I was going to talk to you about it because I do want to. I want to get what I can out on the table if you’d be ok with that,” I look up through my lashes, and I see the most subtle turn of his lip as he watches me attentively.

“Are you hinting that there’s a chance I’ll get to see the side of you others are lucky enough to see?” he retorts, grin growing and taking a step closer to me.

His use of the word ‘lucky’ shortcircuits my brain, and all I can do is nod once, slowly, as my answer. He takes another step, and I match it with one back. I feel more vulnrable than I was expecting to.

“You can understand now why having our plans for the night changed made me slightly temperamental.”

“I think slightly may be an understatement.”

“I think you still should choose your words carefully,” I say, tightening my smile. However, it doesn’t shut him down like normal. Instead, he laughs under his breath, and the doorbell rings.

Both of our heads shoot toward the noise, and solemnity takes over the room.

“You don’t think that’s,” Bucky pauses as he turns back to me.

“How often am I wrong?” I take a deep breath in and smooth my dress out as I walk over, pausing beside him. “Hide the wires. I already did a sweep of the house while you were getting ready to make sure we didn’t have anything out of place. I’ll tell them you’re getting ready.”

I don’t need to open the door to know who it is, but when I do, the urge to yell, “I told you so!” in Bucky’s face is strong.

“Bethanne!” I smile kindly and immediately notice the dish in her hand. Reggie is behind her, holding two others, looking like he just got off work and had been dragged over here. “Did Beau tell me wrong? Are we not eating at y’all’s house tonight?”

She scrunches her face in a practiced motion and lifts the ceramic bowl up as she explains.

“I hate to ask this of you, but our oven is still the old rickety one. The new one had some faulty design, and we had to ship it back. Needless to say, it decided to give out on us today of all days,” she raised her shoulders. “I know we sprung the dinner on you suddenly, but would you two be willing to host if we provide the food?”

Not on the money of what I guessed, but pretty fucking close to the money if you ask me.

“Who is it, Doll?” Bucky’s voice carries from the hallway he’s now emerging from. The first three buttons on his dress shirt are undone, and he’s messing with the cuffs on the sleeves. “Hey, Bauers,” he smiles yet still holds shock in his features by the neighbor's appearance. “Did we get the time wrong?” he asks, looking at his watch before coming to my side, where I've now moved and am letting themselves in.

“No, no, no,” Bethanne shakes her head and hands off one of the pots to me as she takes one from Reggie, who looks more bothered to be here than happy. Long day human trafficking, asshole? “We had some appliance issues thanks to some of the renovations we were doing. I was just asking your wife if we can use your house as tonight's setting and possibly use your oven while here.”

Without hesitance, Bucky takes the dish from my hands and the dish Bethanne had swapped for and nods for Reggie to follow him.

“No problem at all. Let me help you ladies with that. Char," A nickname he had never used for my character before, but it seemed to work fluently. "Would you like to get some wine for the two of you while I get this organized in the kitchen?” he asks me, placing a kiss on the side of my head while his hands are full as he walks towards the other room.

I don’t know how he’s learned to play his role so well, but it’s convincing, even to me.

“Uh, yeah,” I almost stutter in my response as I motion for Bethanne to follow me to the wine cooler out in the garage. “Red or white with tonight's dish?”

"Do you have any more husbands like that in the back I can steal? What a gentleman," she coos, shoulder-bumping me.

___________

Half an hour of baking the food and getting it plated, and our conversation continued with questions mostly strictly about us, which would have been fine if not for the reason behind such invasive intentions.

They started off simple. How’d you guys meet? Who made the first move? What did we love about the town so far? What kind of hobbies and adventures did we take on before moving here? All questions we had prepared for, and if not, could easily improvise.

So far. No slip-ups. If anything, we sold the scheme far better than I’d imagined we would even when they became more personal. And our discussion on being the ‘prude couple’ last night seemed to affect Bucky’s actions a lot more than I was expecting.

An obvious hand on my thigh under the table and an arm thrown over my seat in a slightly possessive manner seemed to catch the eye of Reggie, who mimicked some of the moves as if it were a competition.

In addition, Bucky kept making small compliments about how I looked and how smart I was when they asked about my job. Dropping little comments about things I did (not my character) that he loved and appreciated.

“She’s always doing things like that. I almost never have to worry about making coffee in the morning because she has it all set up just to hit a button and go.”

“You should ask Charlotte about that! She’s the reason our house looks like a home. I’m sure she could give some advice on the kitchen backsplash.”

“She may not know how to boil an egg correctly, but her baking skills are unmatched. I've put on a few pounds now that we have a nice kitchen to spend time in."

I did my best not to act shocked every time he dropped a compliment, but the fact he could have made shit up for my character and used those details as conversation pieces, yet he went the honest way (although more convincing, of course), shocked me.

“Speaking of baking skills,” Reggie nodded his head back to the kitchen counter behind us and smiled at me. “I spied a pie on the counter. Any chance we can have that to finish off this dinner?”

I was still staring at Bucky from his last form of appreciation when I blinked out of my distraction and returned to our neighbor.

“Oh, of course! I was just about to offer,” I smiled, standing up, and Bucky quickly stood next to me, pulling my chair out. “Thank you.” I smiled at him and placed a hand on his arm as I moved around to the counter.

“How sweet. Oh, Charlotte, would you mind telling me where the bathroom is?” Bethanne asked, standing and giving her husband a look for not showing the same chivalry as Bucky.

I watched her, knowing that I would have used the same excuse to do what we planned to at their house. But I was two steps ahead of her.

“Of course! Beau, do me a favor and get some plates out for dessert. I’m going to show Beth-”

“Oh, I’m sure I can find it,” she waved off, coming around the table and moving to the hall promptly.

Yeah… Not without a chauffeur, honey.

“No problem,” I waved off, moving with her casually. “I need to grab some floss from my bathroom before dessert. I’ll show you to it.”

I can see the most subtle glaze of annoyance at my insistence, but she smiles and walks a step ahead of me.

I show her to the bathroom and make it seem I’m going into the master down the hall while she’s in there. And I do, but I keep an eye to make sure she isn’t snooping in any other room besides the one. We’ll have to survey it after they leave, but better that and the dining room than the whole house.

Once we’re back with the boys, no wandering to be done, Bucky helps me plate a slice of chocolate pie for each of us, and I offer to move the conversation to the porch. Any kind of redirection from the comfort of the inside of our home is welcome.

“I love how you’ve decorated your porch. It’s so cozy,” Bethanne notices, pointing out the colorful decorative pillows, hanging swing the size of a daybed, and loads of plants and decor that make the space more intimate. She and Reggie are sat on the two rocking chairs facing the front yard, and Bucky and I are sat close together on the swing, where he’s controlling the tempo we sway in.

“I always wanted a spot outside to escape. We didn’t really have that at our last home, and it was important for me to have this time around,” I replied.

My answer is actually very true. I loved being outside, especially when it was something as simple as sitting in the backyard or swinging on a porch. I had one requirement about this mission, one I’m not even sure Bucky knew about. But I asked Tony to supply a nice budget for the porch.

Call it cheesy, but growing up in such an unnatural and dehumanizing way, you crave a small part of that normalcy you see on the movie screens. For some reason, a porch I could escape on but still be within the comfort of my own home was a dream. And because it was, I thought I’d make this situation a little more bearable by granting that small wish I always had.

“Well, I may have to start budgeting for a new kind of renovation,” she patted Reggie’s back, and he gave her a tight-lip smile. "What do you say, Reg? Do you think we can get a swing like that one?” She smiled over at us just as Bucky pulled me into his side, his arm going around my waist and his hand resting on my hip bone.

“I have a feeling we might as well have built a home from scratch by the time you’re happy with the renovations we’ve taken on,” Reggie answered with a nod before taking a swig from his beer. “Get that recipe for the pie from Charlotte, and I’ll consider buying you a new porch,” he winked my way and turned back to the front of our lawn.

I instantly found Bucky’s hand tightening, and his thumb started rubbing in an up-and-down pattern along my hip. When I turned to him slightly, his gaze stayed on Reggie.

Before finishing cleaning up for the night, we said goodbye to our guests, and just when we thought we hadn’t made any headway in our conversation about work (mind you, we had dropped hints and notices about it all night, but neither of the two seemed to take the bait), Reggie stopped on the last step to our porch and turned to Bucky.

“You mentioned working in transportation, and by the sounds of your new job up here, if you’re interested in a more innovative place, I may have some ins for you,” he shook Bucky’s hand. “I have some coworkers around the states that could use some employees like you on their route.”

“I may take you up on that offer. It all depends on how this week rolls out,” Bucky answered perfectly. The Bauers said their goodbyes, and we watched them walk home before turning to each other.

In a silent celebration, we grinned at the invitation and then sent wordless glances to tread carefully when we got in before scoping the place for bugs…

_______________

Bucky’s POV:

I’m not surprised that the blonde sole cycle instructor of a neighbor was able to get a wire in our bathroom, but neither Y/N nor I were in the mood to remove it right away and give away our knowledge of it, so we each grabbed another drink for the night and debriefed subtly on the porch where the only bugs we had to mind were the crickets chirping their music for the night.

Bethanne was right. Our porch was nicely done, and I hadn’t even noticed Y/N had hung lights out here until she plugged them in.

“I feel like this spot is more put together than the rest of the house.” I noticed the details when we were out here earlier. Now, we both have taken up spots in the rocking chairs our neighbors had vacated.

“I may have focused more of my attention on this spot than the others,” she smiled as she brought a tumbler glass up to her lips. She had drank wine while Bethanne was here, but as soon as they were gone, the whiskey I had made a glass for myself was stolen out of my hand before I could take a sip. Now, we had each of our own.

“Was what you said about the porch a real thing? I mean, we have balconies at the compound,” I looked at her as I sat my drink on the small table between us.

“Balconies and porches aren’t the same. At least in my head, they aren’t,” she nodded, taking a deep sigh and resting her glass in her lap. “Did you mean what you said when you were complimenting me all night?” She lulled her head to the side to look at me.

I had been making compliments. It felt easier to use the ones I had picked up on than the ones I made up. Yet again, I think anyone should get the recognition they deserve when they excel in something. Y/N just tended to excel in more than I think she was aware of. And I was learning she didn’t seem to be used to people taking note of those things.

“Why lie?” I shrugged, starting to rock in a steady pattern.

“Because that’s this whole gig. A lie,” she answered, taking another pull of the hard liquor.

I considered her perspective and shook my head, looking out to the lights on the other side of the street. “I guess it gets tiring at points. Don’t really feel like doing it if the truth can be just as usable.”

She didn’t answer for quite a few seconds, and when I turned back to her, she was staring at me like she was waiting for another shoe to drop.

“How are you so patient? Seriously, is it a drug Tony made you before you had to deal with me on this mission? I don’t get it,” she laughs, but I can hear the genuine confusion in it as she sits forward and turns her body to me.

Honesty. I’m in a mood to be 100% honest.

“Want me to be real with you?” I asked, turning my own body.

“It’d be preferred,” she nods and rests both her arms on the armrest.

“I don’t know anything about your past, but I know most people have a reason for acting the way they do. It took years and a ton of patience before I felt like I was even close to who I used to be. I still struggle to come to terms with the fact I’ll never be who I was before the train incident,” I sigh and rest my head back against the chair as I look at her. “I guess I have understanding more than patience. I understand that you have a history of your own that I don’t know, and I can’t blame you for a lot of the things you do.”

“But you should. I’m an asshole to you,” she says, and the admission is kinda nice to hear, even if it is sad.

“Yeah, and I was hoping you’d be willing to share why that is,” I reply calmly.

She tenses some and sits back in her chair, pulling her legs under her to sit crisscrossed, the chair rocking with her movement and her dress overflowing past her knees.

“I guess now is as good a time as ever…” She looked at me sidelong before finding comfort in the view in front of her instead. “I didn’t really have a chance to develop a personality of my own because of my time in this lifestyle,” she motions around her, “started as soon as I could walk. So I had no identity to fall back on since I had to find it after I escaped.”

I had questions, but I found it best just to listen. Clearly, what she was talking about wasn’t something she brought up lightly, and being an ear to listen was what she needed right now.

“I was left behind by whichever no-good parent gave me up, and Adonis Hummel took me as his own and decided he’d try to recreate the famous assassin, The Winter Solider, from birth practically.”

The name drop came quickly and struck home. I didn’t know her whole story, but I had enough imagination and experience to believe where she was going.

“Wait, Hummel?” I started because the name sounded familiar, but…

“He was a low-level scientist who worked for Hydra when they were still using you under Pierce. He thought he had the brains and resources to create his own version of you. A version that would be more undetectable as a woman and a version he could tweak however he wanted,” she rolled her shoulders. “Lucky for him, I didn’t have to be brainwashed since I knew nothing besides the life of abuse, experimentation, and a shit ton of conditioning... " 

"To clarify, I say that for context, not sympathy,” she straightened, and I could see her shifting back to her unbothered disposition, but the truth was shining through the cracks. She may not have wanted sympathy, but something about the vulnerability seemed to lighten the load on her shoulders.

“As for why I may have built a wall around you, an unhealthy and senile wall, I felt as though…” She gulped as if the next part was harder for her to say than the abuse of her past. “I felt as though you had been my competition my whole life, and a part of me, a young and in-need-of-therapy part of me, thought it was best to keep you as far away as possible and hold onto that anger instead of work through it. It felt easier than facing the fear that I didn’t actually equate to you in any way. So that’s another reason why I felt everything with you was to prove a point.” She lets out a short breath after using all the air in her lungs in one swift swoop.

I-

It’s a lot to take in…

She doesn’t move her head back towards me after her confession, and I can’t seem to break my stare from her.

“This is where you say something like, ‘Well, it’s your lucky day. I’m actually an asshole either way, so we can go on hating each other for completely understandable reasons!’ or I don’t know? Anything but silence would be preferred, though…”

Her hand is gripping the arm rest unconsciously like an anchor keeping her on earth.

On instinct, I reach across and pull her hand into mine, keeping my stare heavy, enticing her to look at me.

She closes her eyes at first and takes another short breath before turning.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel unworthy of being on the team.” I feel like I personally am the reason for her suffering, even if I had no correlation with her before I joined the team. "You are more than an asset to the team and are your own kind of weapon. It's incomparable."

“Ugh,” she sniffles and rubs an eye with the heel of her free hand as if to disguise a possible tear as allergies. “This would be so much easier if you were a piece of shit misogynistic asshole, but you're part of the few good ones out there. Steve, Sam, and Clint included, not Tony,” she noted.

I smiled, thinking about how I’d make a team like that even if she had me believe otherwise for so long.

“What I’m trying to get at, B, is you’re not the one I should be blaming for my past. You’re just as much a victim as I am, but I took the easy way out of making it more manageable for me, and I only made it harder for us both in the end. And for that,” she turned and stared into my eyes fully, the hand she held squeezing my own. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve an ounce of the kind of cruelness I tried to bury you in. You are the opposite of what they tried to make you, and you’re genuine in proving that to anyone who meets you. I've been envious of the strength you have, and I can say confidently that I deeply regret ever blaming you for that.”

I once again have to process yet another collection of words I’d never thought I hear. From her. Ever. A part of me believed this was a dream, but the part that Y/N had a grip on was practically pinching me into reality.

Without hesitating, I stood up, pulled her arm up with me, and yanked her into my body in a crushing hug.

She froze at first… The motion was quick and surprising, but slowly, she unhooked our hands, brought both of hers tightly around my waist, and laid into me. I rested my head on top of hers and pulled her shoulders in with my arms, wrapping both of my own tightly around her.

I wasn’t going to let go until she did, and by the looks of it… She wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

Marvel Tags:

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[captainsimagines]

🎄 New Holiday Series ✨

Yes, I am writing a mini-series this holiday season. Yes, it is Buckyx(Fem)Reader. Yes, it will be published all at once, before Christmas.

It is the “Pretty Woman” fanfic you’ve all been waiting for, with a mix of fluff, angst, and tear-jerking love confessions. This new mini-series is rated 18+ for sexual content, triggering content (past Hydra physical and SA abuse), and heavy PTSD.

Like I said, it’s angst. Hurt/Comfort. Reader is a consensual sex worker and Bucky hires her to get used to touch again. It’s another healing journey we’re taking. I find it healing for me to write as well. ❤️

If you would like to be tagged, please comment down below or message me. You will be tagged in the Masterlist.

It will be published this month. 🤗

So excited for this one. I really hope you are, too. ❤️

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Watching, Waiting... 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, violence, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: There’s a man watching you.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Note: Hello lovelies. Would love a little extra love with this one as I’m working on the third and final part still.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Delilah minds the counter as you go through the bin of new arrivals. You sit on the short square stool as she rings out customers and steeps fragrant herbs at request. You rest the price cards on your leg as you write out the flavour and price per ounce in neat print. The task is mindless and calming amid the afternoon rush.

“What were we offering as samples?” Delilah asks as she goes to the shelf and shakes a large canister, “was it the apple spice?”

“Blueberry mint,” you say as you rub your brow, furrowed in concentration. “You wanna switch out?”

“No, no, keep doing what you’re doing,” she says as she grabs the right container, “it’s not too bad.” She turns back and plunks down the canister, greeting another customer as they step up. “Hello, how are you today?”

There’s a lull of consideration, “fine,” the response comes with a deep inhale, “do you have any recommendations for… sleep?”

You stiffen as you recognize the timbre. No, it isn’t. He wouldn’t. Besides, it wasn’t him. The stranger couldn’t be Bucky Barnes. You glance up and find him peeking over at you as Delilah turns to consider the shelves.

“Chamomile is always good,” she drones as he watches you. You turn and cap the marker, gathering up the bin and the stack of cards. “Lavender, we have a citrusy one you might like…”

You carry the stock around the counter and refuse to peek back. It’s definitely him, the Winter Soldier, but you’re still not convinced it’s one and the same as your mysterious shadow. The man outside the window, and outside the noodle shop, your mind could just be filling in the blanks. 

You just can’t believe an Avenger would do that. And you’re not that special. You’re not special at all.

The buzz of the shop surrounds you, easing you into your work, shifting products to set out the boxed sachets of tea alongside cups and pots. As you rearrange the measuring spoons, you sense someone beside you. 

It’s him. You act like you don’t notice as you focus on tidying the display. He turns a teapot on the shelf, examining the ombre of blue and grey as he leans in.

"You like this one?" He asks but you act like you don't hear him as you reach in the bin. "Hey, I'm asking you."

You blink and swallow as you dare to peer up at him, "sorry I… must've been off in my mind." You look at the pot, his gloved hand on the lid, "it's nice, I guess."

He hums and nods, pulling his hand away. He runs his finger along the shelf and bends his knees so he's at your level as he browses the lower levels. You place a price card in front of the row of clearance pumpkin spice chai.

"How about this one?" He takes the green pot with the humming bird stamped in gold, "you like it?"

You purse your lips. It's the same one you have in your cupboard at home. You shrug, "it's cute, but what do you like?"

He watches you and mouth twitches. You turn back to your work, an eerie ripple tickles your neck. Just stop thinking. He’s being friendly. And it’s your job to help customers, isn’t it?

"You're right," he puts the pot back, "hm," he stands and sighs, "too much to choose from."

"Uh, yeah, you could mix and match cups with a pot," you suggest as you carry on stocking.

He says nothing as he continues his perusal. Turning up cups as he considers each. His leg almost touches you and you peek up. He isn't looking at the porcelain at all. His blue eyes beam down at you without pause, even as you catch him.

You drop your chin and clear your throat. You gather up the bin and the remnants of packages. Standing is a task as your legs shake nervously, doubt and fear tingling on your cheeks. Your denial is drowned in a tide of dread.

"You recognise me, don't you?" He chuckles, "it's okay. I'm used to being gawked at."

"What?" You stammer and take a step away.

"You don't gotta pretend. Your co-worker couldn’t keep her jaw in place–"

"Oh, uh, yeah I've seen you on TV or whatever. Just wasn't sure," you admit, "anyway, I gotta go help Del."

"Sure," he says dully, "thanks for the help."

You try not to run across the store, weaving between tables with your armload and plopping it behind the counter with a puff. Del pushes down the lever of the hot water jug as she steeps a new cup for a customer. You tidy away the errant herbs across the counter, keeping your back to the shop.

Delilah rings out the customer and welcomes the next, "you again?"

"Figure I need something for the tea," the clink grinds against the counter and makes you wince as you pretend to reorganize the canisters of loose leaf.

"Oo, pretty," Delilah trills, "I like the flowers."

"Yeah, uh, I don't got much taste but my lady will like it."

"Oh my, a lady," you hear her flirty smile.

"Yeah, uh…" his voice trails off, "how much?"

She goes through the motions of checking him out, payment, do you want this wrapped? A bag? Don't wash with soap, okay?

You busy yourself with refilling the water dispenser until he's gone. Del comes up beside you and leans on the counter, elbow bent onto the laminate.

"So, the Winter Soldier likes tea? And has sleep issues?" She kids.

"Hm?" You don't look over as you click the large jug back on the warmer.

"And he has a girlfriend? I haven't heard anything about that. Maybe I should call TMZ."

"Del," you scoff.

"Joking," she huffs, "what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, just working."

"Hiding?"

"From who?"

"I don't know," she puts her hand out, "but you're quiet."

"Compared to you."

"Well, sure," she accepts begrudgingly and pulls away at the approach of another customer, "don't forget to check the tables."

You nod and wait for her to prompt the customer before slipping into the back. You hide behind a stack of boxes and pull your phone out of your apron. Your hands are shaking, you didn't even realise.

'Hey, can you meet me after my shift?' You type out after several attempts.

'Sure, what's up?' Zinnia’s reply pops up swiftly.

'Nothing, just wanna grab dinner omw.'

You slip your phone back in your pocket and tilt your head back against the wall. You don't know why you're lying. Well, you don't believe it, that's why. You're overreacting. And he said it himself, Bucky Barnes has a girlfriend. He's not following around a tea shop assistant.

🫖

Zinnia shows up as you're rolling the gate across the front of the shop. You let her in before you lock it and slip through the front door to secure that too. She wanders around the empty shop as you go through your closing duties.

"Yall got any cannabis tea?" She asks.

"There's some behind the counter but it tastes like shit," you roll your eyes.

"Teasing."

"Sure," you finish sweeping and dump the dirt in the bin. "Just gotta toss this and we can go."

"So dinner? I walked two blocks for what exactly?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, let's go to Mao's."

You tie the top of the bag and she squints, "what happened?"

"Nothing," you lie as you haul up the bag, "will you grab my purse?"

Her brows arch and she scoops up your bag. She follows you through the back and you let her out first into the alley. You swing the bag into the dumpster and stumble back from the weight of it.

"Something happened."

You exhale and take your purse from her, "Zin, really, just… a coincidence."

"Coincidence?" She crosses her arms.

"Can we get out of this trash heap," you wave the stink away from your nose, "really, it's not a big d–"

You spin and suddenly, you're flung into the brick wall. The wind is knocked from your chest as your back slams hard and your legs fold beneath you. You wheeze as the dark figure plows through Zinnia and she hits the metal fire escape with a startling clang. Her cry is cut short by the impact.

She coughs as she crumples onto the tarmac and is once more grabbed and hurled against the dumpster. You quiver as you gulp for air, the stench curdling in your mouth and flooding to your stomach as Zinnia sprawls over the rubble and loose garbage. You get to your hands and knees, leaving your purse behind as you crawl towards her.

“You were supposed to be alone…” the gravelly tone sends shivers up your spine.

You know it’s him. You know his voice, his shadow, and his single leather glove.

Your attacker, a man you know, a man you can't mistake, the man you can no longer deny, hops up to latch onto the metal escape and lifts himself onto the platform. You squeak as each move sends a throb through your ribs and you inch towards Zinnia. Bucky disappears with echoing steps as you focus on the woman strewn on the pavement. 

Your disbelief hazes your vision as Zinnia's breathing rises in rattles. Her eyes are shut as her arm juts out at an unnatural angle. You feel along her jacket and fish out her phone, swiping to the emergency call screen. You croak as the line dials.

She was right but you didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t listen to her. It’s all your fault.

You keep your hand on Zinnia as the line picks up, your voice rattling from your throat.

“I need help…”

🫖

You sit in the sterile room, still shaking, fumbling with your phone until you have to put it down. There’s nothing to see there. Nothing to keep you distracted from the steady beep of the machine. Zinnia’s pulse plucking in the silence.

On the other side of her bed is a curtain shielding you from the next patient. They don’t seem like they’re in much better shape as the nurse comes often to check their vitals. Still, Zinnia hasn’t woken up.

You grasp the bedrail and watch her. Her face is swollen on the left side, her head wrapped in lengths of bandage, her arm set in plaster. Compared to her, you got off easy. Bruised ribs.

You don’t understand why he did it. Why her? If he’s after you, why would he hurt her like that? You cup your mouth with your other hand and hold in a sob. You can’t even help her now. She’s laying there, helpless, and you can only sit there and cry.

The police took your statement. A farce. You’re not stupid enough to think they’ll believe you but you gave a clear description of your attacker. Bucky Barnes. To a tee. Who knows what they’ll do with that? They almost seemed amused as you recounted the scene. Bunch of young girls out after dark, tut tut.

You don’t know what to do now. What does he want? Is he coming back? Is he going to hurt her again? Or you? Why you? Of all people? None of it makes any sense. You just don’t get it.

Why did Zinnia have to be the one? Why did she have to be in this bed hooked up to these machines? Why? Why? Why?

The questions do nothing but bubble up your anxiety. You hold Zinnia’s hand and lean against the bed rail, focused on the rise and fall of her chest. She’s still alive but how can you live knowing you’re the reason all this happened. As unwitting as you are, you ignored her warning, all the alarm bells, and you just let him do this.

Your phone vibrates, jarring you from your mournful daze. You squeeze Zinnia’s fingers and let her go. It can’t be that important. It’s late. Past midnight.

You get up and muffle a groan at how your back pangs from your stiff perch on the stool. You pick up your phone, the battery in the red. There’s several junk emails that you flip away and some reminders to get your daily bonus in some word game or another. Under all that is a single message.

There is no number, just ‘Private’. You have a bad feeling as you press your thumb down and the conversation pops up. You stand and stare at the message, eyes glazing with tears as you read it over and over.

‘She won’t get hurt again. Mao’s. One hour.’

[high-functioning-lokipath]

Bucky x Reader Miniseries (Title TBD)

This will be a series of 10, unrelated, drabble/oneshots for Bucky Barnes x Reader. I'm working on a better title for this little series. I've been struggling with...well...a lot of things...but I want to get back to writing and hope this series will get those creative ideas going!

Hope you all enjoy it! Below will be the masterlist for this series...each prompt will be linked when written and posted!

1. The day started gloomy, not quite letting on what beautiful things could happen on a day like this.

2. "Hey! Wait for me please!". They stopped dead in their tracks, their breath shallow and wondering why that voice still made them feel this way. 

3. Meeting the love of your life in a police station does not make for a good story to tell the grandchildren, but definitely an interesting one. 

4. The alarm clock woke her up from a very lovely dream. 

5. She hurried over the busy streets, slaloming between honking cars, four large cups of iced Coffee balancing in her hand and she should have kept her eyes up in order to prevent what was about to happen.

6. The dark brown eyes were the first thing he noticed. 

7. Day in, day out, it was always the same time, same place, same people and he was used to this implicitly agreed upon order of things. 

8. Later they would say it was love at first sight, but both knew it was a long road they had to take to get here. 

9. With all the drama in the morning, she did not expect her day to get any better. 

10. He liked watching her, when she was in her element the confident beauty she radiated.

[artficlly]

the shadow (miniseries - part one)

Post Endgame Avengers AU miniseries - part one

avenger!bucky x widow!reader avenger!yelena x widow!reader (platonic)

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Reader is an ex-black widow sniper who escaped the Red Room with the help of Yelena and Natasha. After working as an illegal hired gun, Yelena recruits the reader to the team as a sniper. The reader is closed off, not wanting to form connections or friends with anyone. Though, as their shell begins to crack, they notice they have a lot in common with a certain Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: violence, death, wound descriptions, lots of blood and gore, mention of weapons, swearing, low self-esteem reader, mentions of past non-con, lots of angst. lmk if anything needs to be added.

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: hi! this is a pretty angsty/gorey fic I've had in my brain for awhile now. i don't know if many people will vibe with this, so might just be written for my weird interests lol. i think this will be two, maybe three parts? I just wanted something a bit more intense to work on alongside face the music (which is a more wholesome college au multi chapter fic). I'm very interested in exploring the 'what if' side of what happens to all the widows once they escape. I am also a sucker for feminist readings/feminine rage so this is a fun outlet. I have some plans for more ex-widow content (maybe longer series) but i wanted to get this mini-series up as a sort of taster! there isn't a heap of bucky barnes content in this part, but oh boy, there is some coming in the next part!! not proof read - pls forgive any typos.

main masterlist

Many unexpected things had happened during your life, even before you were old enough to understand how unexpected they were. 

Firstly, you had been torn from your birth family at a young age. You never knew if your family had willingly given you up. You had heard tales of starving mothers, selling their children in order to survive. Other tales said that the mothers refused to sell their children. Though, a mothers love was not enough to sustain through the Russian winters. Those mothers died for the love of their children, but regardless their children were still taken by the Red Room. 

Others whispered that the women of the Red Room were specifically chosen for their genetics, hunted down and stolen. There was no regard for a mothers love, only the possibility of another weapon to create. 

Deep down you could hope that your mother had loved you. 

You would never know. 

The second unexpected thing to happen in your life was when you escaped. Much like the other Widows, you had spent most of your life under the control of men. You had been a weapon, faceless, deadly. You had survived the training that many didn’t and that was the only thing that made you of value. The discovery of a life beyond the Red Room? A life beyond what you had been crafted for? Freedom was more frightening than any mission or task you had undertaken. 

With the Red Room gone, thanks to Yelena Belova and Natalia Alianovna? You were purposeless. You were a small ship, lost at sea. You were a small ball of rock, hurtling through space, burning up and dying out. There was no reason for you to exist, there was no life for you. You were a killer, a monster. Why did you deserve peace? How could you ever find peace with all the blood on your hands? You were raised to be a killer, and a killer you were. 

In the Red Room you were The Shadow. A faceless sniper, one of the best in the world. You did your job, and you did it well. Even after you were freed, you continued to work as a sniper to find some meaning. You were good at disconnecting from your emotions. Taking the shot wasn’t one to sweat, you floated above your body and pulled that fucking trigger. 

The people who hired you didn't know your name. They didn’t see your face. You were a weapon and you would kill without question. A father, a mother, a child? It didn’t make a difference to you. It was just another target. Even if you were free from Dreykov, you were still the weapon he had built you to be. As much as you tried, as much as you fought, screamed and cried. You were a Widow, a faceless killer, a nobody, a Shadow. 

The third unexpected thing to happen in your life was Yelena Belova. She was a force, hurtling into your life. You had never expected it. You thought once she freed all the Widow's it would be over. She wouldn’t need to associate with her fellow Widows anymore. She was a hero, she made it big. She would become an Avenger like Natalia. Start over, fresh face, new name. Natalia, Natasha. She had been a hero, she had freed all of the Widows. You? You were a gun for hire, bottom of the barrel scum. 

Yet, there Yelena had stood, reaching out to pull you from the snake pit. 

You had been hired for an inside job, some drug deal with the potential to go very wrong. You were to keep watch, blow out the brains of their competitor if necessary. You didn’t think into the ethics, you just shot who you were told to shoot. You should’ve known Yelena would keep tabs on you, you should’ve known that day would come. Even if you were nameless and faceless, you were still a weapon. The world doesn’t just lose weapons, no, they either used them or prayed for their untimely death. 

The deal went messy, as anticipated. You went to shoot but a foot was on your rifle making you pause. 

“You’re getting sloppy, Shadow.” The blonde had tutted at you. “I have been standing here, for what? Two minutes? You didn’t even see me.” 

You didn’t know why her speaking Russian shocked you so much. You had spent so many years dealing with Americans and Europeans that you had slipped into the comfort of English too easily. You had just assumed that the world of superheroes had Americanised Yelena, like they had Natasha. But there she was, Yelena fucking Belova in the flesh. Your third unexpected thing. 

“Come to tell me off for being a bad girl, Belova?” You teased, hand subtly finding the knife at your thigh out of instinct. You doubted Yelena had come here to kill you, you had heard through the grapevine about her little mission. She had spent two years freeing Widows across the globe. Though, you couldn’t help but notice that Yelena was armed to the teeth. Knives and guns tucked into hidden pockets through her black suit. You had heard she had become an Avenger - well atleast what was left of the team. Stepping into Natasha's role, she wanted to do good so bad. You could never be that, a hero. You weren’t meant to be anything other than another man’s blade or bullet. 

After Steve Rogers death, the Avengers had spiraled for a time. Eventually, Sam Wilson had taken up the mantle. A few had followed, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, his protégé Kate Bishop as well as Yelena. You didn’t even know if they called themselves ‘The Avengers’ anymore, only that they acted like them. Seemed they were running off the left-overs of Stark’s money as well as government funding. You had heard rumors about Scott Lang or even Steven Strange still floating around. After Wanda Maximoff had gone near-insane, the world had turned a cruel eye on their heroes. Even if they had been the only ones to save them from The Blip. People - your people - they didn’t want to be classed as heroes anymore, but somehow they were still committed to ‘doing good’. 

“I could tell you off,” Yelena drawled, eyes following your every move. You were on your knees now, slowly rising from the lying position you had held. If Yelena was a predator, you were certainly her prey. Unfortunately for her, you were also a predator when cornered. Outside, you could hear gunshots overlapping each other, shouting and grunting. It hurt that it annoyed you, that Yelena would be inadvertently ruining your reputation. You always made the shot, always. Except this time. You supposed being held up by Yelena fucking Belova was a better excuse than missing your shot. No, now that would be embarrassing and reputation destroying. The Shadow missing a shot? Unheard of. 

“I want to offer you a job. Could be a one time thing, could be more. Pays better than whatever this is, and is certainly more legal than whatever this is.” Yelena continues her spiel. She had palmed a knife, waving it as she spoke for extra effect. It was a hunting knife, sharpened to perfection. You didn’t like to imagine how the serrated edge would feel cutting into your flesh. 

“Your jobs barely qualify as legal,” You snip back, carefully eyeing her movements. Was she signaling someone through the window? The glare of the sun against the blade would surely be visible outside. There could be an entire team outside waiting to take you down. Yelena could just be the distraction. Your hand tightens around the handle of your own knife, ready to pull it from its holster at the slightest indication of an ambush. 

“Everything is legal if you work for the right people,” Yelena cuts back, tilting her head as she observes you. Time was ticking, you knew this could go one of two ways. You really hoped it wouldn’t end with one of you bleeding out on the floor. You had respect for Yelena, for what she and Natasha had done. 

“What if I say no?” You ask, russian muffled through your mask. You always wore them on jobs, always. You were a faceless weapon, mixing your identity in would not help you shoot better. Yelena smirks at you, finger running down the blade of her knife. She looked so casual, leaning against the window sill without a care in the world. She was definitely better armed than you. Your ears strain, trying to hear if someone is climbing the stairs of the building. All you can hear is the scuffle of the deal downstairs in the alley. 

“The government is interested in you. They don’t have a name yet, just… a shadow of a person to look for. Ex-Widow, a hired gun. I can make it go away. I know powerful people.” You could see her teeth through her smirk as she spoke. It was a thinly veiled threat. Pull your shit together, you’ve drawn too much attention to yourself. No, this was the difference between you and Yelena. She had cared, she had become the hero she had needed. You had stayed the same monster, spiraled further into your own hatred and disgust. You had become the person people needed saving from. Yelena cared so much about every Widow that the idea of one slipping through the cracks? It would haunt her. She was warning you, giving you a way out. She wanted to help you. 

The shouting and gunshots outside had died down, now only the sound of several sirens approaching. Time was still ticking and you were running out.

“Make your choice quickly, Shadow. Make it wisely though, I really don’t want to kill you.” Yelena purred. You eyed her for a long moment, carefully getting to your feet. Despite her cold exterior, the way she tried to be intimidating… You could see the pleading in her eyes. She wanted you to come with her, she wanted to help you. But you couldn’t help but wonder if you deserved saving? 

So many years, so many dead bodies. The only thing that kept you going was your strength, your reluctance to die. But after so many years of running, so many years of being alone… was there a reason to keep fighting? That sickness, it clawed away in your brain. You didn’t deserve saving. 

The sirens drew nearer. Reluctantly, you spoke. Even if that sickness was strong, your stubbornness and desire to breathe was stronger. You would live out of spite. You would live just to spit in the faces of those who wanted you dead. If you were going to die, it would be on your own terms. 

“Who am I shooting?” You ask, reaching out your gloved hand for Yelena to shake. Yelena must feel some kind of relief, you see her shoulders droop every-so-slightly as she shakes your hand.

“That list seems to be endless these days.” She replies with a grin. 

—

The small rural town was desolate. A ghost town, Yelena had said. A ghost town that had become infested with vermin.

Remnants of society still remained. You could imagine the ghosts of people passing by as you navigated through the landscape. A cracked concrete road, overgrown with weeds. The apartment buildings with their windows smashed out, graffiti scrawled across crumbling stone. Billboards years out of date, forgotten band-posters peeling off walls and lampposts. You couldn’t say who once lived here - but whoever they were, they were most certainly gone or dead. 

You were positioned on the second-floor of a disintegrating school house. The building itself was several stories higher but you had taken one look at the unstable staircase and thought better of it. Ripped, stained curtains blew lightly in the wind, at the front of the room a cracked blackboard still had the date July 17th, 1994 scrawled across it. 

You were in your usual working gear. Your suit was tight and flexible for ease of movement, adorned with pads on the knees, elbows and shoulders. Your hands were clothed with fingerless gloves and most importantly you wore your mask. A belt holds a handgun, lower down some straps across your thighs hold knives and pockets for convenience. They were for if things got messy, your real weapon was tossed over your back - a duffle bag with your sniper rifle inside.  

Broken glass crunched under your combat boots as you cautiously approached the window. The building you had chosen was strategic. Across from you was an old office building, just as run down as the one you stood in. Unlike the school house, the old office housed a group of criminals. 

Sam Wilson had insisted that he didn’t want to kill them, that he just wanted to talk to them. He wanted to talk them down and tell them to surrender peacefully. If things turned messy, he would give you the signal and you would shoot. The two groups would be standing in the concrete courtyard between the two buildings. At the slightest chance of danger, the slightest chance they weren’t ready to surrender? You would pull the trigger and pop their leader's skull open. 

Sam Wilson and his crew hadn’t been happy to see you when Yelena had brought you to the aircraft for transport. He had taken one look at you, masked, all in black and imploded. 

“Yelena, who the hell is this?” Sam had snapped. Yelena had just laughed at him, motioning for you to sit and buckle in next to her on the aircraft. 

“You told me to get a sniper!” 

It seemed when Sam Wilson had asked for a sniper, he hadn’t asked for you. Ex-widow, criminal, The Shadow. When Yelena had introduced you with your alias, Kate Bishop had gaped at you. Bucky Barnes was tense, you would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t recognised your name. Clint Barton seemed neutral, you supposed he was used to dealing with deadly women. 

You found it ironic how upset Sam Wilson was. He had helped Steve Rogers save Bucky Barnes, The Winter Soldier. You supposed the difference was that Barnes had tried to change when he was freed. Despite the mind control, the torture… he wanted to do good. You were just damaged beyond repair. Sitting there, with those heroes? It made you feel sick. Playing dress up, that’s all it was. 

You had over 700 confirmed kills with your rifle, even more kills if you counted other weapons at your disposal. You were an assassin, a hitwoman, a fucking menace. Bucky Barnes would have more total kills than you, but he had stopped killing. He had felt remorse. You had kept killing, kept digging that hole because it was all you knew how to do. He had been a normal boy before the war. You were a killing machine, a girl robbed of a childhood. If you hadn’t been freed, would have even known about the childhood you had missed? You didn’t remember your mother, nor if you had any siblings. All you had known was cruelty. 

Brushing some of the broken glass away with your foot, you began setting up your rifle. Through the ear-piece you could hear the chatter of the rest of the team as they headed to their spot. You had gone ahead to set up, they were about 20 minutes away from the school house. Gun at the ready, you lay down on your stomach, eye to the scope. 

“In position, over.” You mutter into the ear piece. 

“Copy that, over.” Sam Wilson replied quickly.

You settled into your spot, watching the building ahead. You were a good sniper not only because of your ability to disconnect, but also because of your levels of patience. You had spent days in this exact position, waiting, sweating for your chance at a target. 

By the time the others were in position, you had counted every window in the building across from you. 25 per story, making it 125 all together for all 5 stories. There was movement on the bottom floor and the second. You assumed they didn’t go any higher due to the same reason as you - a crumbling staircase. Each window had blue curtains - different to the beige ones in your room. Nearly all the windows were smashed, except for on the top story that seemed to remain relatively untouched. 

Through the ear-piece you could hear what Sam was saying. Both groups stood in the center of the courtyard, hands on their undrawn weapons. The new generation of Avengers were outnumbered 5 to 1. The tenison was clear, even as Sam tried joking around with the opposing leader. Everything was going smoothly, exactly as planned. That was, until you saw a glint in one of the third story windows. 

You thought you imagined it at first - a trick of the eye. But then you saw it again, and then a third time. There was another sniper, trained directly on Sam Wilson. You didn’t feel stressed by this, it was just another complication in a high-tension mission. It made sense, you had anticipated that maybe your targets would be smart enough to bring a sniper to this ‘talk’. The other sniper was up slightly higher than you - you wouldn’t be able to get a good hit on him unless you went up another couple stories. 

“There’s a sniper, third story. Sixth window to the left.” You breathed into the comms, fully knowing the rest of the team wouldn’t be able to verbally respond. If the opposing side got any indication that you were up there? Game over. They would signal their sniper to take the shot on Sam. It would take hours to pick bits of his skull out of their clothes and hair. 

“I need to change positions to get a better look, keep him talking.” You continue. Slowly, you roll away from the window and drag your gun with you. You needed to keep to the shadows, become a shadow literally. If the sniper spotted you it would be over. 

With a quiet grunt, you pull the gun from the room. Pressing your back against the hallway wall, you quickly rise to your feet and head towards the staircase with a huff. Sam was still rambling on about peaceful surrender over the comms ear-piece, stalling until you could get a better look at the sniper. 

The stairs wobbled and shook as you moved up them quickly and quietly as possible. You could hear chunks of wood and stone crumbling from beneath and falling with each step you took. Opting for the 4th story, you quickly set up in position by a new window. Same torn, beige curtains and shattered glass across the floor.

From this position you had a better look into the third story windows. Looking down, you could see the outline of a body laid flat with the rifle, much like your own position. Due to the broken windows and ripped curtains, you had a fairly clear shot at the figures head as they trained all their focus on what was happening below. 

“I’m going to shoot the sniper first, he has a shot on you Wilson. I’ll still have a clear shot on the target, just might take a moment.” You explain. They don’t reply, as expected. The situation below seems to be growing tense, you can hear the tone of the target's voice growing more aggressive by the second. Lining up your shot on the sniper, you hold your breath. Sam says the signal word. 

You pull the trigger. 

As the shot rings out, the men below scatter. You can hear the rest of the team screaming at you through your ear-piece. It all gets jumbled up, just white noise in your brain as you line up your next shot. This was why you usually worked alone. You didn’t crack under pressure in a situation like this, but having screaming ringing in your ear was bringing you damn near to it. You can’t be bothered listening to what they are yelling about. You didn’t need them telling you that your target was seconds away from escaping your bullet. Didn’t they know you never missed? 

The target was a few feet away from the safety of the building. Chunks of flesh, skull and brains explode across the cracked concrete as you pull the trigger once more. Through the scope, you watch the body slump to the ground, a pool of blood quickly spreading around the corpse. 

“Holy shit!” You hear Kate yell through the ear-piece. You don’t know if she’s complementing your shot or reacting to the spray of blood up the side of the opposite building. The last of the men who scattered stepped over the body, disappearing into the office building. 

“There's another headed for the sniper rifle, Shadow!” Yelena shouts at you through comms. Her and Clint have breached the office, you can see the shape of them fighting through the broken windows. 

“Got it,” You mutter back. You cast a glance at where Sam and Bucky were fighting out in the open. Bucky seems swarmed, trying to shake a man who has wrapped his arms around his throat. You make a silent note of it, casting your scope back to the third story window. The figure that rushes to replace the dead man is quickly taken out by your rifle. He doesn't even get a chance to touch the rifle before his blood paints the wall behind him. 

No one else makes a dash for the sniper rifle. You turn your gaze back to the courtyard, noticing that Bucky is still swarmed by several men. Sam has been pulled too far away from him to help. You can’t see Kate anymore, but from the yelling coming through the comms she is inside the office with Clint and Yelena. 

One of the opposers has picked up a hand-gun and is pointing it squarely at Bucky’s chest as he struggles to get out of the grip of the other men holding him down. Sam barrels towards them, but you know he won’t make it in time. You huff out a sigh, lining up the dangerous shot. You knew if this bullet was at the slight wrong angle it could ricochet directly into Bucky’s chest. 

Is this why Yelena hired you? Because you would make dangerous shots without permission, without regard for human life? Bucky was a super soldier, he could probably survive several gunshot wounds (provided they weren’t directly to the head). Maybe if you cared you would’ve been nervous. Maybe you would’ve hesitated, let your hands shake and sweat. But you don’t care. You disconnect from everything, the shouting through the comms, the sounds of gunshots, the feeling of metal against your skin. You’re not in your body, you are floating above yourself watching the auto-pilot take over. 

You squeeze the trigger. The hand-gun clatters to the ground alongside the attacker. Blood is slick against the paved stones. Through your scope, you swear it has splattered across Bucky’s gruff face. The men attacking Bucky stutter for a moment, giving him the opportunity to shake them off and pummel them with his metal fist. 

He doesn’t even acknowledge what you did.

He doesn’t even say thank you. 

—

One job turned into two. Then two turned into a few more. 

Six months you had been working with Yelena and her crew of disgraced Avengers. You weren't their friends. You didn’t celebrate after missions with them. You kept to yourself, cold and distant. They didn’t know your real name, they hadn’t even seen your face. Yelena would give you a call, pick you up, you would complete the mission, then you would return home. 

You were The Shadow. 

You weren’t a hero. 

Kate and Yelena tried to crack your shell. It usually involved joking and parading around you. All it would earn them was a roll of the eyes and a quiet sigh. Over the comms though, sometimes you would make quiet digs and quips. Clint would roar with laughter, Sam just muttering that he was surprised you had a personality under that mask. 

The mask. Oh, they hated it. 

They were all determined to see beneath it. They made up jokes, stories as to why you wore it. That you were hideously ugly, or scarred beyond human recognition. Bucky seemed to be the only one who understood. He was the only one who was equally as cold to you as you were to him. Your exchanges were brief, usually a series of single words and grunts. It was a relief having someone not trying for your affection at all times. 

Once again, you and your deadly skills were needed for a mission. Another one of Sam’s ‘discussions’ which usually ended with brains splattered across the floor. This time you were in a lightly forested clearing, somewhere in the Estonian wilderness. You were set up in the tree line, laying in a mixture of mud and dead leaves. 

The countryside was peaceful, but gray. Winter was setting in, leaves falling from the birch trees. Their pale trunks were pale against the gray sky that threatened to spill. The breeze was cool, not as cold as Russia had been. No, a Russian winter could be deadly especially the further north you got. You remembered the snow, the discomfort of the cold leaking into your bones. You hadn’t been allowed to complain then, only soldier on. 

“You in position, Shadow?” Yelena asked through the comms. You could see her lips moving through the scope as the group headed towards the designated meeting point. 

“Affirmative. Over.” You state, pushing the ear-piece in a bit further as you settle closer to the cold earth. Relaxing your shoulders with a sharp breath, you surveyed the area through your scope. 

A small group of men had come to meet the team. There were less men than you had anticipated, if a fight ensued it would be one on one. You didn’t like the opponents odds, they looked scruffy, only armed with low-caliber weapons. Definitely not the type to take on a group of superheroes and super soldiers. 

You felt dread sink into your stomach. Something… felt wrong here. Your target reportedly had tons of men at his disposal. It was deep into the Italian mafia, and if they had anything, it was an abundance of men. Where were they all? Was this an ambush? Were they hidden in the brush like you? You could take down a few targets, but you would be more successful with your knives and fists against a small army. Your mind races, along with your gaze as you try to piece it all together. 

“There is something wrong.” You speak into the comms, eyes flickering between Sam and the target as they stood in front of each other. You had done plenty of jobs with the group, all had gone smoothly. But something… something was terribly off here. You could feel it in your gut. The targets men looked antsy, shifting in place. They knew something. They were anticipating something. 

“There’s not enough men. I can’t spot them anywhere in the treelines. Either he’s stupid or this is a set-up.” You ramble into the ear-piece. They can’t respond to you, but you can tell they’re paying attention to your warning. Yelena’s eyes sweep the area, trying to spot more men hidden away somewhere. 

Then, from behind you, you hear the snap of a twig. You spin around, hand flying to your knife. Across from you stand a group of men, armed with shotguns. They’re close, closer than you had realized. You had been too busy trying to figure out where all the men were, trying to anticipate the ambush. You hadn’t realized their ambush was against you. 

This was why you didn’t make friends. Connections. You were too busy worrying about them to realize the immediate danger you were in. The butt of a shotgun cracks against the side of your head. 

Everything goes black. 

—

The mud was cold underneath you, biting into your skin. Your hands were tied, and throughout the intermittent black-outs you recalled being dragged through the dead leaves. You must have been stripped of your weapons, you couldn’t feel the metal of your knives and gun digging in anymore. 

You were bleeding from a head wound, and you were definitely suffering from some kind of concussion. You had touched that throbbing spot with your fingers, rubbing the slick feeling of blood between them. Even through the fabric of your mask, you could feel the sticky blood had spread down the side of your face and neck. A gun was pressed to the back of your skull.

How many men had there been? Had you had a chance to count before you were struck? Had you managed to warn the others before the ear-piece was shattered by the strike? You could still feel bits of plastic and metal digging into your ear along with a high-pitched ringing. You weren’t sure if the ringing was from the ear-piece or from the hit you had received. 

“You really thought I would stand in the open like this? Like a fool?” Your target joked, his Italian accent thick as he laughed heartily. You were kneeling next to him, eyes warily looking between him and the rest of your group who stood across from you. Sam and Bucky looked less than pleased, lips pressed together in tight lines. 

“Rumors have been all through the underground, The Avengers somehow managed to recruit The Shadow?” He continues, still laughing. “Only an idiot would put himself in the open. Taking a chance with The Shadow is asking to have your skull blown open. I am no fool, but maybe you are? Thinking that I would fall for your trick?” 

You can see Yelena trying to keep her cold face on, the one she had given you when she recruited you. It may have fooled the opposition, but you could see the concern in her eyes. She surveyed the mountain of men behind you like she was looking at her next meal. The barrel of the gun pressed harder against the back of your skull.

“We didn’t come here to kill you, we came here to negotiate your peaceful surrender.” Sam spoke up, voice gruff and cold. Behind him, you watched Clint’s fingers ghost over the string of his bow.

“Surrender? Why do you bring a sniper to a peaceful negotiation?” The Italian purred, motioning at you with one hand. His fingers were lined with gold rings, they caught the sunlight through the clouds. He had a gun tucked into his belt, a knife holstered on his hip. 

“You know why. Things get messy. Now, we can still negotiate. You let her go and you hand over your weapons. You will be arrested unharmed, along with all of your men. You’ll face a fair trial for your crimes, a chance at a fresh start.” Sam explained. You could practically hear the target losing interest during Sam’s spiel. You watched him fidget impatiently with those golden rings, the way his men shifted uncomfortably behind you. 

“No no.” Your target chuckled, running his fingers over his bushy black mustache. With the swish of his hand, he dismissed the man holding the gun to your head. His hands then found the back of your neck, tugging you to your feet. Fingers under your chin, he forces you to look into his eyes. “Why would I let her go? I didn’t come here to play games with you, Wilson. I came here because I wanted her. Because I knew she would be here.” 

You resisted a flinch as his fingers dug into the skin of your neck, slipping it under the fabric of your mask. With one tug, he pulled the fabric from your face. This had not been the way you had expected this to happen, the way you would reveal your face to the team. You didn’t want them to feel some kind of connection to you, or any kind of guilt if this ended with a bullet in your skull. 

If you had been able to look, you would’ve seen their shocked faces. How they quickly turned to rage on your behalf. You would’ve seen how Bucky’s eyes darted between looking at you and the ground, like he was witnessing something forbidden. 

You imagined you were a sight, blood smeared across your skin from the head wound. Your hair had been perfectly woven into a crown braid, just like how they taught you in the Red Room. It would be lopsided now, chunks pulled out of place and flyaways from being roughly tugged across the ground. That and the layers of mud caked into your clothing. 

“You know, Dreykov would sometimes leant out Widows to important men like me. You were all so beautiful and you all did exactly what you were told. Made to deliver pleasure. So many men, they would ask for you. To get a glimpse at the mysterious Shadow of the Red Room. Dreykov would never let us have you… 

We would wonder if it was because you were hideously ugly? If you had been scarred like his dear Antonia? But looking at you now, you are as beautiful as I imagined. I can’t help but wonder if Dreykov wanted to keep you for himself? He always said you had too much bite for your worth.”

Gaze still cast at the Italian, you don’t see the team's reaction to this. You wouldn't have seen  Yelena's composure slip, how Sam clenched his fist in rage. Instead you stared, silent fury boiling beneath your skin. 

“I wonder how it will feel to break you?” The target hissed. He watched as your blank expression slowly turned into a sneer. Without much thought, you spit a mixture of saliva and blood into his face with a ragged laugh. 

His face contorted in rage, reaching for the gun in his belt. You don’t dodge, willingly letting him strike you across the face with the metal. You stumble backwards, falling to your knees in the mud. Your lip is definitely split, blood dripping to the ground below you. You’re still laughing though, much to the collective horror of everyone. Sam opens his mouth to speak, to demand your release but you cut him off. 

“You men, you are so emotional. You’re so busy pulling out your cock to piss all over everything that you don’t see the small details.” You seeth at the target. He stares at you in shock, completely oblivious to what you have done. What you are about to do. His men, even your group don’t anticipate what is to come next. 

“What are the smaller details?” The target asks, you can sense misguided amusement in his tone.

You don’t reply. He doesn’t have a chance against you. You had already slipped out of your binds. He was so caught up trying to strike you, trying to prove himself a big and scary man, he hadn’t felt it. Your nimble fingers had wrapped around the knife on his hip, he hadn’t noticed how you had ripped it from its holster as you fell backwards. 

The Italian doesn’t get a chance to take another breath before you snap forwards, striking like a snake. You dig the blade into his thigh, purposefully nicking his artery. Blood gushes from the wound the moment you pull the blade back out.  

Things seem to move in slow motion - you see him react - eyes opening in horror and shock as he stumbles back. You are still on your knees, a feral smirk across your face. His gun lifts, intending to shoot but he is too late. Wrapping your hands around his wrists, you pull the gun to the side just as he pulls the trigger. 

The bang deafens you for a moment, ears ringing. The bullet grazes your ear, then lands directly into the stomach of one of his men behind you. The man wails, falling backwards, knocking a few more of the men off their feet in the process. You move quickly, using your body weight to twist the target's arms, flipping him onto his side into the mud. 

The gun falls to the earth with a thud. Your target doesn’t even get a glance at it before you’ve kicked it away in Sam’s direction. The Italian man groans on his back as he bleeds out. You get to your feet, ignoring the panicked shouts from his men beside you as you observe him. 

“You’re bleeding out from your femoral artery.” You explain to him roughly, tilting your head. His hair is thick, black and greasy. A sheen of sweat has come over his pale skin, eyes glazed over. 

“On average it takes two to five minutes to bleed to death from that artery. That’s if you don’t fall unconscious first. Let’s count, shall we? You spent…around thirty seconds swinging that gun around…another thirty listening to me talk…” You drawl. 

Stepping closer, you crouch next to his shivering body. He is trying to stop the bleeding, pressing shaking hands to the open wound. Blood has already begun to pool around him, ruby red and slick. You tut, pushing his hands away with the knife to watch the blood spurt out faster. 

“You have, what? A couple minutes left? Now tell me, before you slip away… When you see God, what will you tell him?” You ask, a feral expression still across your face as you watch his skin grow gray. 

“You fucking bitch!” Your target manages to choke out. You laugh, standing and swinging the knife around. 

“Oho, I don’t think he’ll like that.” You say. An almost animalistic growl leaves your throat as you raise your foot, kicking him squarely in the nose with your boot. He cries out, bone crunching. For a moment you stand there, watching the sniveling man. 

With a sniff, you run your hand roughly over your cheek, wiping some of the blood from your skin. Then, your gaze falls on the group of men left. They are watching you in silent horror. You can’t imagine what you look like, covered in blood and mud, armed with only a hunting knife. You assess them with a predator's gaze, menacing and bloodthirsty and the men cower back despite being armed with guns. 

“We don’t want any trouble.” One stutters out. 

For a moment, you forget the rest of your team are feet away. You consider letting the wrath consume you. You could tear these men apart with your hands, teeth and nails. You imagine plucking out their eyes, teaching them what happens to men who see your face. 

“Shadow.” Yelena calls you. Your eyes snap to hers. 

Pulled from your trance, you run a tongue over your split lip. The act is near animalistic, a cat tending its wounds. Then, with a shrug sent in Sam’s direction you stalk over to Yelena. Sam, to his credit, quickly composes himself and instructs the group of men to drop their weapons and line up. 

“Are you alright?” Yelena asks as you pause in front of her. You don’t feel like answering that question right now. 

If it weren’t for the cold wrath that had taken over your body, you would imagine you would be shaking. Men like that made your skin crawl, made you revert back to how you had felt in the Red Room. It made you sick to your stomach, knowing that despite everything men like that still existed. You would kill one man and another would grow in his place. You had been lucky to escape. That no matter what, there would always be more places like the Red Room. Even if they weren’t to breed killers and spies, they would still use the bodies of women. Powerful men would use their authority to control innocent girls for the rest of time. Those girls couldn't all be saved. They wouldn’t be saved. 

“I need to retrieve my gun.” You reply thickly, nodding your head in the direction of the treeline. Your knives and other gear would have also been abandoned nearby, that’s if the men hadn’t pocketed it for themselves. 

“Go ahead.” Yelena says, thankfully not pressing you on your emotional state. She seems to sense your unease and your unwillingness to hang around. You pass by her and a gaping Kate. You needed to clear your head before you faced the rest of them. With the mask, you could hide your emotions. Now, without it, you felt exposed. You wouldn’t let them see you crack. They would have been trained to sense the slightest change in your facial expressions, to be able to interpret exactly how you were feeling. 

“Shadow?” Yelena calls, you glance over your shoulder reluctantly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Nice to finally see you. The real you.” She says, a subtle grin tugging at her lips. 

All you can do is hum in response. Though, as you trudge towards the tree line, a small smile forms over your bloodied face. 

PART TWO