#bucky x ex!asset reader

[samodivaa]

Thrill me, Fulfill me

You agreed to help for one mission—now you are both lustful and carnal, affected by sex pollen—you are flint, he is tinder.

Warnings - sex pollen, smut, rough/possessive sex, Hydra past, breeding kink, choking kink, multiple orgasms

Words - 8k

(the 3D render is for this fic, enjoy :3)

The horizon tips on its side, and slowly, hour by hour, the day spills out and soon the night will spread its darkness—traveling through the countryside is a charming escape and in a chronicle of events, with the light of the days—you feel the light inside too, your human spirit wanders in thoughts as you sit on the BMW’s trunk with closed eyes. It is June, and the world smells of roses, moments like these leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their going—in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, Bucky and freedom—your soul feels at peace.

“I talked with Sam, he wants me to help him” There is an endearing nervousness in his voice “I was wondering if you would like to come with us”

In an instant, you reply with an annoyed face “No”

“No? Come on, you need people other than me in your life”

He scolds as he nests between your legs, fingers finding their way on both sides of your hips, drawing soft circles as they travel up towards your waist.

You arch an eyebrow at him, as if the answer is obvious “I don’t need others”

“You will love Sam, I told him about us, I mean-about us living together”

“You did, why?” you clip your words, hissing them into his face as you give a wide-eyed, searching look.

“I used to invite him over to my apartment, he started wondering why I stopped. I wanted him to know anyways”

“What else did you tell him?” you look at him with an arrested expression. His smile fades, and he finds himself staring into your eyes “James?”

It is only a brief moment, but you catch his blink of surprise at your demanding tone before he offers a tentative smile.

“I-I told him about your connections and he was hoping that-” he trails off quietly and you notice a tightness around his mouth and a dimness to his usually bright eyes.

You regard him thoughtfully and he sees the comprehension dawning in your eyes. You know exactly what he is asking.

“Did you miss the part of how I built them?” you ask, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He huffs in annoyance “Well no, but don’t worry-”

“Oh, hey Sam, I am another brainwashed assassin and when I escaped I did it willingly, for money, nice to meet you by the way”

“I get it, but you are changi-”

You snap, pinching your eyebrows close together.

“And this is my former partner who I used to occasionally fuck at Hydra and now that we have reconnected, we are fucking and living together”

“Anything else you want to add?” 

“No, that's all” you finish bitterly, furious with him for letting Sam know so much about you.

“He already met you once in Madripoor, he knows about your past. Trust me, he is a good person, he accepted me”

You let out a hollow laugh

“I am not Captain America’s best friend, James. I am nobody, I don’t even have a legal identity”

You explain in a humorous yet deprecating tone, staring into space.

“Look at me, you need to trust me” he coos, his blue eyes have a doorway to your heart, the place where his care for you resides “I know that you are scared, but you need other people in your life”

It's the caring that he lovingly gives, the passion that he shows—that convinces you every time.

“If I break your heart, I break mine, darling”

Shifting your mouth from a frown into a light-hearted smile, you let out a small chuckle from underneath your breath. His metal hand rests on the small of your back, in that sweet spot that makes you feel feminine and protected—vanity, fear, uncertainty—all such distortions within your own ego—condition you to stay silent about your own feelings. Your programmed mind-pattern still needs to heal, all you need is time, you will get there eventually.

You kiss him on the cheek, which kind of surprises him.

“Хубаво, ще дойда” (Okay, I will come)

His gaze flickers up to your eyes and he can detect no deceit, no mockery. 

There are many circumstances that lead to arrogance: one is when you're wrong and you can't face it—but you decide to face it this time, because you know that your brain relies on the familiar. It is reluctant to experience the unknown, which is the very essence of your human life.

The past should have no power over the present, but it still does sometimes—anger and death are deeply rooted, your emotional thermostat is broken. Everything in you is broken—you view yourself as pieces and Bucky somehow sees you as a whole.

Inside, your soul was so cold that you hated everything. You even despised the sun, for you knew you would never be able to play in its warm presence—you were condemned to stick to the past, working as a hitman for years. Everything changed when Bucky decided to track you down. You knew he was spying on you, because you made it easier for him.

You were afraid of the aloneness that you trusted for so long, but that is the truth that you still store in the granary of your mind. Maybe you will tell him one day. Maybe one day you will let him know that he helps you abandon your corporeal prison.

"Я просто люблю запах страха" (I just love the smell of fear) you whisper—a knife-wielding lunatic.

You face the attackers in a kind of instantaneous flash and see the disconsolate eyes, which remain stamped on your heart like the hot coals of fear, the power of death is then borne out by you—the queen at the bloody carnival, not afraid to spill blood while Bucky tries to prevent hurting, killing people at all cost.

It is easy when you work together, just as in the past—but he is holding back, you are not used to seeing him fight so carefully—Winter’s brutality is non-existent.

You sigh as the last man drops dead to the ground. With a knife in his chest. Or, rather, a pair of knives in the chest.

Yes, you helped them locate the rumored Hydra base, but Bucky’s intense paleness on his face shows regret, because you still don’t mind killing—you give him a pitying smile when your eyes meet before your system is poisoned with something.

It is such a tumultuous and intemperate invasion that you forget why you are here. And then your eyes meet again, there is fascination in his gaze, menaced by some invisible danger, and you want to succumb the terrible desire to weep when you realize what it is and you look at the mysterious trembling of your hands—your gaze goes up, but Bucky is nowhere to be seen.

He knows he has to go somewhere, he heads back to the apartment and he has feelings of sorrow, regret, directionless rage, a broad feeling of impotence. The horror of this misfortune penetrates Bucky so deeply that he is close to a panic attack—as if reliving the nightmare he sometimes has—Hydra giving him the pollen back in 1990.

He wanders all through the rooms as if walking in his sleep, chewing on his quiet rage.

He knows the theoretical mechanics of the pollen and he can barely stay on his feet because of the weakness of his knees, his skin is burning and he can’t resist the urgent need to palm himself through his pants—it starts slow and will go progressively worse. 

He rubs his hand over his scalp, where his long hair used to be—now shaved very close to his head and bristling against his fingers, he lowers his blue eerily crystalline eyes before closing them. He feels like he should be crying, but he couldn’t summon the tears.

—it’s all his fault. Why did he need to come to your apartment a year ago, on a beautiful August’s evening?

„I knеw that we were following me, Soldat,“ you loudly acknowledge him, drawing out the derogatory term while your back is turned to him.

Stillness wraps Bucky up in a cold embrace, a chill running down his body as he hears you speak. On the string spun of your angel voice, grief and pain drowns him. The tone drawn from memory in his dreams it’s the same, unblinking, robotic as you offer him one spare look before focusing on cutting vegetables on the wooden board.

He exhales, then he slowly enters the apartment. „It is not Soldat, it’s Sergeant now“ his breath hitches and he stops as soon as he enters the room.

There is a crack in his stoic expression, excruciating memories flooding his mind. He knew that somewhere, some day, maybe at a less miserable time, you may see each other again, but he couldn't wait any longer.

The memories are still in his mind and the pain—too ripe in his heart. The more deeply he felt, the less he was able to breath, thinking of grief, and of getting past it.

That's why he came. He needs you in more ways that he wants to confess.

„Oh? What do you want, Barnes?“ your face is carefully blank.

„I wanted to talk to you“ he starts, taking a couple of steps towards.

Shadows lick up the side of his cheekbones, making his skin gold as he slowly walks to the opposite side of the kitchen island, you hear him move the wooden seating.

„And you couldn’t just-I don’t know…have knocked on the door?“

„Sorry, I didn’t know how to-“

He says, a tremor makes his voice uneven. Bucky takes in a deep breath to balance out the embarrassment thrumming through him.

„It is easier to be loyal to past habits, can’t blame you“ you murmur, voice perfectly respectful as you think about it with a heavy heart.

You said it as a matter of fact, without the scorn and mockery, but as an accepted truth before placing the knife you have been using, on the cutting board and finally facing him completely as you step closer to the island as well, leaning forward on your elbows.

But the wintery feeling of the pollen is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring that summer's memory of meeting you.

The memory played in his head, with a hopeless nostalgia that he was completely disoriented—he doesn't care if you are heartless, vicious and vulgar, stupid, grasping with incurable programming and mental problems, he enjoys spending time with you. He would rather have misery with you than happiness with any other person, because it is shared, you have a deep and silent understanding.

He was so happy when you suggested living together four months ago—he was okay with the sleepovers at each other's apartments—never was bothered with the need to rush your companionship.

The key to personal development lies in the daily routine—creating new memories with you stretches out psychological time, and lengthens his perception of both your and Bucky’s lives. When he wakes up from a nightmare he is so relieved, because he wakes to a dream, he enjoys the miracle of living with each other as much at the table as in bed.

Bucky finally lays on the bed, his head aches. He admits that he is still human, vulnerable, and sensitive—but he begins to remember how it had been when Hydra gave him the pollen and his self revolted at this, hates himself for not being able to fight it, hates himself for bringing you here.

He is sick with conflict, destructive emotions festeres in him while this sludge eats away at his insides and Bucky is acutely conscious of the swift passage of time, it will make him become blunt and callous—there is a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get for him, but maybe this is what he deserves.

When you push open the bedroom door, you can’t prevent it from scraping against the uneven floor. Suddenly, in the absolute darkness of his mind, Bucky is brought back to reality. He is not surprised, for without knowing, he has been expecting you to come.

You close the door behind you as he stands up on his elbows—wondering why are you such a stubborn, blind, obtuse woman—why are you here?

Your scent carries across the room and paralyzes him with longing.

“Stay away, why did you fucking follow me?”

You stop in shock at the words he utters—they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless.

He is vulnerable, slightly paranoid. Although his voice is broken by uncertainty and his hands seem to doubt the existence of things—he tries to appear composed.

You can feel his eyes traveling up your whole body, staying on your side for a split second before moving up to meet your gaze.

“James, we don’t have another choice, we don’t have time”

You can't blame him—he is scared, scared and frozen, afraid of what he can do to you...the old primitive urge for sex. It's getting harder to control it with every passing minute—every second is lived with terrible intensity. It all flows over you with a screaming ache of pain—as you see him, the need grows even faster...and all you can do is remember and feel—the effects of the pollen—like a disease of the blood, dispersing throughout the body.

He looks like a bundle of past recollections, knotted up in a bundle of flesh.You remember what his flesh has gone through—but you also remember what he put you through that day. You feel the naked fear, the urge of self-preservation, you appear solid in front of him, but you are mimicking nothingness.

“God, I smell you. So hot and sweet”

The blank hell in the back of his mind starts to break through, spewing forth like a dark pestilence, the pollen eats away the pith of his humanity—the chaotic words pour out of his mouth as he gets up from the bed and you self-paralyze, your back hits the door—but this is the only way that will pull you both out of the plunge of—pain, need.

Your sexual attraction to him has been heightened beyond measure, as much as you try to bury it deep down in fear, the lust is getting greater than any other feeling or emotion. Every part of him is heightened to you now...his voice included.

He stops in front of you, belatedly realizing where his feet have carried him. There is no glamor, no attempt to hide it, nothing: his need taking slowly over all his senses. The unwelcomed bubble of intrusive lust, sinking into an even more heavily occluded state—you feel it too as he molds his front to yours and pins your breasts against his chest.

You are mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes—you can drown in those eyes and it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. His beautiful features offer themselves to your gaze as you trail through them, annoyed at how attractive he looks—putting your mind into a darker cloud of irritation, waiting for him to do whatever he wants.

You feel stuffy, there is not enough air to breathe as he cages you against the door, his consciousness already vanishing and deforms itself in something primal, there is a delicious animal fire in his gaze.

“I want to taste you so desperately, it rages through me-fuck, fuck this-I want to fuck you”

His eyes are growing moist with indignation, with angry impotence, he is barely controlling himself. It is the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning— it’s hard—but not harder than his cock.

“Do it, come on” you gasp out.

“If you don’t get out of here, you know what will happen”

He explains weakly, and when you say nothing, he grabs your waist with both hands, vision already blurring. His bones fill up with foam, a languid fear, and a terrible desire.

Bucky’s control dies a slow death, shedding layers like leaves until—there will be none—he tends to be particularly rough, aggressive and possessive when given the pollen. You remember the feeling of possessiveness he had as the Winter Soldier over you, so intense it transformed into an obsession over your body.

“I'm not leaving, I need this as much as you” you say, tremulous with longing.

Bucky stares at your mouth as you speak—it looks provocative to him when you talk.

“Enough, dammit, leave”

His voice tightens, it pierces your soul—half agony, half lust.

You still have the choice of running away and finding someone else to do it, but leaving Bucky behind—you know there is not a girl in the world that can handle him, no one else has the serum, but you—your brain is ricocheting in between. It all drifts to the periphery of the mind when you meet Bucky’s eyes.

“It’s normal-” you say haltingly, your expression turns guarded.

He is livid, a sad look on his face

“We are not normal” he interrupts with a soft firmness “It’s insane to pretend we are”

You are both aware. Catastrophically aware.

“Stop talking, we’ve been through that once-”

and you look so well-equipped for this that is seems abnormal to Bucky, he is conquered by the obstinacy of you—so docile and willing to help—he wants to be emancipated for the moment from the torment of the pollen, but the guilt is still eating him.

“Do you remember the year it happened?”

"You always ask me whether I remember the stupid years, lets just-” you say with a shrug.

"It matters, it matters to me. I hate that you remember, I hate myself for what I've done to you” He explains, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his human hand.

"James” you whisper his name tremulously “I don’t blame you for anything”

His pain is paramount and you want it to end. His pain, his guilt. You are willing to suffer for the rest of your night so that he can take the easy way out of his needs. You admit it to yourself, without bitterness—you need to sacrifice dearly on behalf of Bucky. 

“I’ll lose control” What you cannot forgive is dishonesty—you would rather know the hideously unflattering truth of his devastating visions than foul evasions “If you try to run now, I will probably chase you down anyways”

With all that waiting you have lost the strength of your legs, the firmness of your breasts, your tenderness look—barely keeping your heart intact. Maddened by that prodigious talking, you shamelessly groan, closing your eyes.

“This is bad,” you whimper “Oh God, this is bad. Please, do something”

The next critical manifestation: the unbearable pain.

“Snezinka-” (snowflake)

“Stay with me” your eyes shone “Play with me, please” like those of a cat.

In that state of hallucinated lucidity—you just can’t take it anymore. Presently the need grows stronger, hesitating then no longer. The attempts to conceal the pollen’s effects don't work anymore.

“At least…give me permission this time” Bucky shakes his head, sadness vibrating through his body as he speaks through clenched teeth.

“Yes, do whatever you want” you moan, shaking, desperate for his touch.

And then you see something possessive wash over him, making your body shiver in anticipation.

“Please, I need yo-”

You say, nodding at the soul-reaching blue crystals, not looking away from him, but Bucky doesn’t let you finish as he kisses you. His lips are warm, his body is heat and muscles against you. He kisses you like a tide, gentle at first, but with the ability to drown, his fingers digging into your waist, urging you ever-nearer to him, even when it’s physically impossible to be. Then his fingers slithers over your chest, hands immediately find your breasts and he starts to massage them for his own pleasure.

His fingers curl around the edges of your soaked blood shirt, pulling and eventually tearing it away from your skin.

There is lust and there is pain, a whirling wheel—not stopping.

He wastes no time, kissing you deeply again, already missing the feeling of your skin.

“I am yours, you know that”

A simple reply, his voice cut into you like glass, his words bleeding into your skin. It isn’t something to be argued against, it’s the truth and you acknowledge that. It’s ridiculous, absurdly sentimental to think that you managed to lay a claim on him like you did in the past. 

You are trying to think of something, coming up short when he presses his hips flush against yours again, the chest harness wrinkling under the tight grip of your fists, pulling him and he hems you up against the door, grinding his cock against you. You slide one hand downwards, wrapping around his hard manhood and squeeze, Bucky moans quietly and involuntarily rolls into the contact, desperately seeking relief.

“Fuck” he says, a bit too breathlessly.

„James-this is not enough“ you undulate your hips against the aching bulge.

His name falling on his ears like that sent chills down his spine, he can hear the beat of his heart, his palms belong on your skin as he closes the gap between you. Nothing is sweeter, nothing else than you—lust is spreading like quickfire in his veins, groaning in the kiss.

“I know, I know” he whispers, a hint of exasperation and affront in his tone, leaning forwards to kiss you yet again, teasingly licking at your lips as he pulls away.

Sexual perversions mix with guilt and adrenaline as his mind sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed.

You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you watch him between your spread legs—his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs. The corners of his mouth curve upward when he notices you staring a moment too long as he removes his jacket and shirt.

You remove your own pants and then you spread your legs open, positioned right in front of his standing body—one hand toys with your breast through the bra while the fingers of the other hook in your panties and drags them down your legs fast before throwing them in his direction.

His breath stutters as he catches them with his metal arm, becoming more and more aroused with every beat of his heart that runs down his shaft. It’s becoming more painful. He starts to pump his cock, the veins bulging beneath his grip—even in his large hand, it looks intimidating, the veins in his neck tightening.

He’s quite tall with broad shoulders and an athletic physique that even his leather jacket cannot hide. Your eyes continue their upward travel to his strong square-shaped face framed with short brown hair that falls to his shoulders and deep, blue eyes. 

He then craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten now.

It is the impatience of the way he tears your bra from your body that really scares you: the pollen getting the better of him and you spread your legs wide, exposing your overall and the fragrance of the essences permits in the air, he smells it.

His cock nudges around your sleek mound until he gasps as he guides his sticky cockhead glides through your delicate folds. He doesn’t say anything as he slips inside you, burying himself to the hilt.

Sex with you this time is different, he has never felt this dominant, this claiming, this selfish. He is so far in that his balls are right against your pussy lips.

His greedy lips are once again on your skin, devouring everything he can—licking, sucking, and kissing, not holding back his throaty moans. He drags his lips up your throat, along your jaw, back toward your mouth. His lips are usually gentle and loving, promising long days and summer forever—but they soon turn sharp, peppermint, winter.

Animal logic. Prey. Predator… teeth dragging against your neck, living marks. The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. He snarls out gluttonous groans against your skin as you clench and seize, pounding you harder as your body contracts. Pleasure breaks out like a wildfire, reaching around your temples; shooting up and down your spine.

You're perfect when you're underneath him, it's where you belong, beautiful face and pretty wide eyes locked onto his powder-blue orbits—curves cushioning him, your obedient body lush, muscular, but still feminine, your eyes flashing—and all he wants is to ruin you.

It's a sinful sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, you've got the prettiest expression as he grips your legs and folds them up to fuck his dick into you even harder than before.

“Don’t stop, don’t, please”

There is something raw and pleading in your voice that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving.

He continues to trail his lips down the front of your throat and you realize that he is mouthing words against your skin “Mine. Mine. Mine”

“You feel so good every time, snezinka” he murmurs at your ear as slide to your throat and he tightens his grip on both sides on your neck, reducing the blood and oxygen to the brain. When he loosens, the rush of blood and oxygen to the brain results in an explosion of dopamine, followed by a shamelessly loud moan from your lips “I think that I love you”

“We’re drugged. That’s why,” you gaspe “Did you forget?”

Bucky acknowledges your words, they sink into him—he focuses his attention on your skin. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath, skin breaks out into a pale sweat and your eyes fill with tears. His trusts are ruthless.

“There is no pleasure as good as the feel of your pretty cunt wrapped around me” a dark edge creeps into his tone.

He says as he fills out pounds you, drawing a muffled scream from your throat as he starts to thrust more rapidly, setting a demanding rhythm.

Something strange starts to rage inside him, hearing you inhale sharply as he continues to kiss and bite your neck, leaving bruises deliberately and as he fucks you deeper, wanting to mark you in an entirely different way—he wants to breed you.

And you know you will wear the bruises of Bucky’s hands as you wear the scars of Soldat.

All extremes of the pollen are allied with madness, finally consuming his brain and body.

“You are so beautiful”

He says into your skin, tears welling, confused, mingling in his throat. Old wounds never truly heal, your past will never fully heal anyways. That one tear, that tiny, salty, droplet of moisture is a means of expression—joy, and torment. Although it's just a small tear, it is the heaviest thing in the world. And it doesn't do a damn thing to fix anything in this situation.

“James-” your whole body exhaled a lugubrious lament, your heart breaks for him.

His eyes are always soulful, in some way; they seem to say things that you know he's probably never say out loud.

“I know baby, I know,” he nibbles on the side of your neck “You are so beautiful, I am sorry-so sorry, I can’t stop” his growls erupt from his chest, the primal noise flooding your senses, making your insides clench around his length “I need this, I need you”

You’re powerless…utterly at his mercy and that’s what makes you cum—his voice sends shudders through your body, reacting in all the right ways to the words. The orgasm has gutted your vocal chords, and all you manage is a small gasp, tears slipping down the old salty trails as he doesn’t stop, his head lulling on your shoulder.

He leans down, nose brushing against yours as he pants, thrusts never faltering, his mouth hangs open with bliss, his cock plunging into you with skin-slapping speed and he finally reaches his orgasm, cock spurting a thick dollop of cum with each throb. He closes his eyes, because of the volcanic eruptions of fever still goes through his body—his orgasm is long, raw, reaching all his body senses.

Sex is unthinkable without roughness tonight—he is already thinking about his second orgasm—should he just cum in your mouth when he makes you fall to your knees… or if he should take you by the hair before he’s finished and fuck you into a sobbing heap before blowing his load. Of the few times Soldat has face fucked you—gagging you to near vomiting—you’ve never miss a drop of cum. He remembers it.

His hand closes around your throat and the grip tightens, slowly cutting into your skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. Your head is spinning, ears are ringing—suddenly, without warning, he withdraws completely, leaving you coughing and gasping for air. As you try to catch your breath, you feel him get up from the bed which urges you to come back to your senses faster.

In his temporary madness, an idea comes to his mind.

In seconds, he is back on top and when your vision finally clears—his lusty orbs descend to your cheeks, detailing your skin before leaning in to lick off your tears—some form of mercy which you don’t need.

He is now in that state of fire that excites you. You want to be burnt.

His eyes drift leisurely back up to your face and he smiles, nova-flare eyes blazing into your own—you look for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, and you find nothing but possessiveness.

But something is not right.

His eyes are cold and dark.And your heart stops.

He is taking you over. Staking a claim.

He slowly thrusts his hips forward, his cock pressing into your front, earning a squeal from you as he ruts back and forth dragging his length across your opening and then slowly plunges into you. You exhale, trembling as you feel the tip pressing against your opening and penetrating you. He is mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

Bucky brings both of your wrists above your head and grips them in his metal arm, restraining you from moving them—and you tremble like a downy rabbit caught in the clutches of a wolf—he seizes you as boldly as Soldat used to capture his favorite prey—you—in the past.

A flash blinds you for a moment and you see him holding his phone—this feels surreal—leaving you breathless with an inexpressible delight of it. Bucky’s inner voice of lust speaks, it is so spontaneous and unannounced. Your mind searches for the logical thought of his action.

“Fuck, I can cum just by looking at it” He musters his primest tone, throwing the device to the side.

You whimper as your abdomen contracted painfully around his hard length at his words. He lets his fingers release your hands as his cold digits swipes back the hair from your face. Cursing, he grips the back of your neck and brings your lips to his while the metal ones grip your hip so tightly you are sure he’d leave a bruise. You whimper as he starts to fuck you, slamming you into the matress.

The usual warmth of his hands is not there. They chill your skin as they hold you close to his body, and you realize he is scared. The extreme joy mixes with the bone-crushing grief—what if you don’t want to be around him after this night? What if you condemn him, consider it with high and unjust resentment and leave him? It pierces his soul, but he can’t stop—he is half agony, half animal...the past beats inside like a second heart now.

Your soft fingers trail his face and continue to attempt a connection that he refuses to acknowledge at first—the past slips and vanishes like sand between the warm touch of your fingers, acquiring material weight, only in its recollection, because the more shared past there is in any relationship, the more present you need to be for each other.

“Let go," you whisper and he loosens the grips—he is ashamed of holding you so tightly "No, not of me," you say smiling.

You look right into his eyes, right into him as far as you can see, because you want him to hear you, you want him to hear you with everything you say—and his chest tightens as if some euphoric drug has gone straight to his nervous system—but it is not the pollen, it is you—reassuring him, leaving a psychic imprint in his mind.

It’s both a blessing and a curse to share the same trauma. And even though you are sometimes harsh, restless and despairing—he is your weak spot, you love him in your own way.

"You can hold on to me as long as you want. Let go of the past, let go of the pain" you say, giving him permission, taking him into your flesh, a clear invitation to madness.

Emotions clamp down on his heart, but he stays terribly silent. Bucky says nothing after that, only your name, as if your name is not a name but a question. He shakes his head and kisses you, long and quiet.

He grabs your jaw in one hand forcing you to look at him, tears coursing down your cheeks as he thrusts into you, making low, growling noises in his throat—a predator purring with pleasure while it devours its prey, picking up a brutal pace once again. Your legs tighten around his waist, hooking over his hip bones as he practically folds you in half, nails digging into his back, surely breaking his skin with your manicured fingers.

He groans at the pain and removes your hands, intertwines his fingers with yours, pins your wrists flat to the mattress on either side of your head. He holds himself up over your body as he fucks into you, supporting his weight on his forearms. His cock is slamming into you, balls bouncing against your clit just right, the sight of his well-muscled body, covered in a thin layer of sweat, invites you to utter depravity, it is what drives you over the edge.

“You look so good taking all of me” he pants against your throat “I will fill you again-so good”

Hard, long, deep trust that forces moans out of both of you.

You whimper and nod dumbly, screw your eyes tight as another wave of pleasure spread throughout your body in orgasmic tingles as he pulls his own climax with you. He presses his face against your neck as his hips lose any and all sense of tempo and when he finally stills, he holds himself deep inside as he leans back—with every breath, your bust heaves, sweat droplets running between them and attracting his gaze.

It pollutes his mind even more, it cripples his morality, because he is infatuated with fucking you like this again—is it the pollen at this point? 

''Bear with me'' He murmurs, gritting his teeth ''I need…more” his cock slowly sliding out of your tight pussy before sliding back inside with equal slowness, sliding through copious amounts of thin lubrication and cum. Your legs wrap around his waist and prevent him from pulling out even if he wants to—your understanding, your willingness is a kind of ecstasy to him.

The blue moons in his eyes are glimmering with an emotion you can’t put your finger on. What is he thinking about?

A part of him cares about you.

But there’s a depravity in his mind right now that enjoys seeing you like this—your hair is in disarray, several tendrils scattered across your face and constricting your view of him, sweat pricks at your hairline and down your back. There is something unmistakably exultant in turning you into a mess—such a mess of cum and tears. Gently, he brushes the tendrils out of your face, tenderness in his touch—that’s the part of him that cares.

“I need you on the floor, on all fours” —that's the part of him that's deprived tonight.

You can feel the desire. The thirst. The absolute beast threatening to tear from his skin.

Soldat loved to fuck you against solid ground. He never truly left, sometimes Bucky is on the verge of cracking and showing the color of the thing beneath, but you don’t mind, you are not scared, you never were. 

All he wants is for you to be filled, marked, bruised from staying up all night, taking his cock into your body until you are depleted of all your strength. Even then, he will fuck you. He doesn’t say more, but he groans as he gets up—what a sinful twist of his lips, watching you slowly get up, your legs are incapable of supporting your weight much longer.

Your cunt hurts, too—you feel his cum dripping down your thighs, making yourself position in doggy style, legs winched apart, everything exposed to his view and he goes to stand on knees behind you, eagerly holding up his cock then he lines up your hole. He twists your hair around his fist and yanks your head back, at the same time thrusting into you from behind as his fingers slide to dig into your ass. 

Bucky grunts as he slams into you “Я без ума от тебя” (I'm mad about you) his balls slapping against the sensitive nub. You choke on your words, this angle allowing him in far deeper than before. You arch your back more and dig your nails into the floor, clawing at the dirty ground as he relentlessly pounds into you. Sweat drips down his neck as he watches himself entering and exiting you.

He grips your hips tightly, slamming into your snatch with ferocity. A wave of pleasure suddenly overwhelms you, and the tingling is growing stronger once more.

“Я предан тебе…ты моя девочка”(im devoted to you)...(You are my girl)

You can only mewl and gasp as you are rocked back and forth on your knees, losing your breath every time his cock hammers into your cunt. You clench around him when you hear your full name spoken in his gravelly tenor.

He molds his front to your back, spearing through your tightening pussy. He grabs your hair and snaps your head back roughly before it travels down around your throat and squeezes tight while his other palm splays across your stomach.

His lips rests on the back of your shoulder, hissing

“Очевидно, что , нас чувства друк к други” (You can’t deny what's between us)

He carries on rutting you like an animal. Your skin slapping together, your pussy squirting around his cock as it invades your snatch repeatedly, making suction squelching noises with every thrust in of his length. It keeps on hitting your cervix, your nubile breasts swing with the force of your body rocking—you know that you will be sore later.

"You fill my heart, I fill your cunt"

But his words strike every inside your body and his honesty brings the euphoria of complete surrender.

“Enough, stop, it is too much”

You plea and nearly asphyxiate on the words as your orgasm bursts upwards from your abused cunt. A sob wracks your throat and he continues thrusting, riding your orgasm until your entire body is convulsing and you are desperately trying to wiggle out of Bucky’s arms with the last of your strength, but it's not enough compared to the strength of his arms holding your hips with renewed vigor, determined to breed you.

You catch sight of him from your peripheral vision, his eyes closed, his lips are silent, but he chatters with his fingertips, with the way his hands grip your hips, fingers digging in, the way he fucks you. And you thought that he chose that position, because he was embarrassed, but he was not—he wanted to disguise from you how much he was enjoying himself.

You have the strength to kill him, but here you are—so obedient.

His little submissive.

His expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure—breathless, possessed, lost in the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight. Your pussy cradles around his dick as he pounds into you from behind.

“James” 

His name on your lips sooth a place deep inside him, and the urgent need to hear it in again pulses in his heart, making himself guilty of such a secret, he must perforce hold it—

—but he shamelessly let out a loud moan, he never felt so out of control. You are a disease worse than the pollen itself.

“Bucky” 

That makes him groan like an animal, noises coming out of him that you never heard before, he was never this vocal. The groans are desperate, endless, but the sound of his name is unspeakably erotic to him. He can’t get enough of this. He will die without it, without you.

“You look too pretty when you’re getting fucked like that” he blurts out, without even thinking.

There is already a fissure in his mind and madness just rushes through. Praising him puts him on edge, it’s something he never thought he wanted or needed. You wreak havoc on his life.

He squeezes his eyes shut—to utilize the entire spectrum of the other senses, moans of ecstasy crescendos and his breaths come in short instances, each with a slight pause in between as his body is rack with his orgasm, cum is flooding out of your cunt, dripping of you onto the hardwood floor and there is a charm about it that makes it unspeakably desirable for Bucky.

In this stillness, he finally finds serenity. 

All you want to do is crawl back beneath the mound blankets—he gently picks you up and you smile crookedly at him, something about your smile loosening a knot in his chest, because holding you in his arms is more natural to him than his own heartbeat.

Morning came in through the blinds cutting everything into ribbons, but the light can make the most vulgar things tolerable—you are aware of the aching hips, and your whole body hurts like hell as if you have been run over by a train.

Bucky steps out of the bathroom, freshly showered with a white towel around his lean hips. He takes a half step toward the bed, and his jaw works for a moment before he asks

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired, did you tell Sam what happened?”

“No, of course not. He is thankful that you helped us” He says and rakes his fingers through his damp hair, making it stand on end “He invited us to Louisiana”

You barely resists smiling at him “Okay”

He raises a brow “Just like that, okay?”

“If you give me my bracelet back”

You both look at the bracelet around his right hand. Then he bites his lip as he grins.

“Not happening” he says, his tone flattening and he can't help the smirk that tips up the corners of his mouth.

“Guess I need to buy a new one then” You peel back the covers, indicating for him to get in and you watch him climb next to you “With your name on it”

His palm reaches up to wrap around the back of your head, his fingers tangling in the depths of your hair, pulling you closer, his lips hovering over yours. Everything about him pleases you.

Not just his looks, but his patience and his kindness. He is an obsession waiting to happen. Kissing him is terrifying, breathing the same air makes your knees weak, a liquid sensation swooping throughout your stomach—but you've been betrayed, stabbed by every single person in your life, the body heals, but it injures the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime. You are scared of love, scared of these new feelings, scared of trusting anyone, but you are trying—that’s why you gently press a kiss to his mouth.

(Her kisses are deliberate and polished. When she kisses me—she doesn't want me. She has me and knows it.)

Bucky throws himself onto the couch next to Sam, slewing his eyes over to him.

"So you are sleeping and living together, but you are still not in a relationship?"

He takes a long sip of his drink when he hears the words, tips his head back against the couch, and decides he could…maybe live with that.

"Yeah"

Sam’s lips tighten to suppress a smile "That's a bit weird, Buck"

He chuckles, low under his breath "The part where I live with my ex-coworker or the part where we sleep together?"

James takes a deep breath, and Sam can see his blue eyes searching for his, like he is looking for an answer.

”Maybe it is what it's meant to be for now” A frown settles on Bucky’s face as he considers that “She has a lot to experience, too. If you pressure her with anything, you might lose her completely”

“I don't want to be in love, but she is making me, Sam” he sighs, a headache blooming right between his eyes. He rubs at the spot, stalling as he tries to figure out what he wants to say “But you are right, she needs to heal”

Several emotions swirl in Sam’s eyes. Worry, sadness, maybe even intrigue. But not judgment. Never. “Did she agree to go to Wakanda?”

He wets his dry lips and says the most basic truth:

“No, she is too untrustworthy, I can’t believe she even agreed to come here”

Sam sees it as hope—and he wants to put that light within his friend, too “But she did”

They can’t talk about it anymore, not when they hear you, Sarah and the kids coming back, and when your gazes meet, your soft smile and the look in your eyes, they are the best interpreter of your mind—you are truly happy, seeing you like that makes him feel like he can single-handedly vanquish an army.

He has outlasted all family, desires, dreams, his grief alone is left entire—sometimes visiting the lonely desolation of nightmares, they are gleamings of his empty heart—Bucky is a heap of ashes, but meeting you—kindled him back into fire.

Oh my goshhh thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this project!

More of this ex!Asset AU? - MASTERLIST

[sgt-seabass]

Just Imagine this:

"Honey?" Bucky called as he came home from a long day of work only to find you and the kitty asleep, He would scoop you up and put you in bed only mildly stirring you. His perfect family. he would change and hop in bed with you.

THIS MAN IS GORGEOUS

𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒂

✧˚ · . a collaboration between @navybrat817 and sgt-seabass

Bucky returns home after a mission, ready to spend time with his two favourite people, you and Alpine.

pairing — bucky barnes x reader w/c — 1.3k part of the Vengeance AU listening to —♫navillera by gfriend

warnings — bucky barnes is a sweetheart, part of a dark AU, mentions of Hydra a/n — navillera is a korean phrase meaning ‘like a butterfly’, so i thought it suited. thank you so much for your ask, it inspired this oneshot! hope you enjoy a little peace before our next part comes out.

“Steve, there’s something more to this.” Bucky rapped his flesh fingers against the back of his metal hand, shoulders tensed as he looked out the car window, the sky dark. Shadows cast across his face, emanating his worries easily with the subtle light of the moon.

Normally, he rode his bike to the compound before a mission, but this one had been urgent so Steve had picked him up, and now was stuck with dropping him home.

Steve sighed, both hands gripping the wheel. Both men were tense. “Buck. We really shouldn’t be talking about this–”

“The base wasn’t just empty, it was stripped bare. Someone cleaned house.” Bucky chewed on his lower lip as they passed by familiar streets, one’s he often walked with you. It felt dirty to be thinking about work in the area he considered your domain. Bucky liked to keep work and private life separate, although the edges seemed to be bleeding more and more.

Lately, he’d had a lot more late nights and sudden missions as a string of ex-Hydra bases were ransacked by unknown assailants. It was concerning enough to have someone interested in old Hydra assets, and even more worrying with no idea as to why.

The world was better off without the tentacles of Hydra swirling below the surface, but it seemed some people didn’t agree with that sentiment.

“We shouldn’t be talking about this. It’s classified. We need to be in a secure facility.” Steve was clearly growing more irritated, but Bucky knew the stem of that annoyance was the same as his – they didn’t know who was doing this, and what their motive was.

“You sound like Tony,” Bucky sniped before he could think better of it.

Steve inhaled sharply, shooting Bucky a look. It had Bucky curling a little into his seat. “Sorry. You just know it’s weird and there’s something big we’re missing. Hydra is gone, so why would someone care about their old junk?”

“I don’t know, Buck. But I intend to find out,” Steve said with finality as he pulled up outside your apartment building. “Either way, it’ll be fine. Hydra died the same day the Triskelion fell. Now go get some rest, you look like shit.”

“Is that an order, Captain?” Bucky chuckled dryly, his eyes lingering on the high up window with the open curtains – his apartment. The four walls didn’t weren’t what made it his home – you were. Becca had always told him home was where the heart is, and his heart was always with you. You were his home. His safety blanket. His everything.

“Stop being a jerk and get out of my car. Your girl needs you,” Steve gently pushed at Bucky’s shoulder, an air of ease between them.

Bucky opened the car door, sliding out, but not without sticking his head in to have the last word. “Fine, punk. But keep me in the loop.”

Steve just nodded, affection in his expression. Bucky smiled as he shut the passenger door. The world was certainly different from the one they’d grown up knowing, but after everything it was nice to still have his best friend.

Bucky didn’t look back as Steve drove off, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats as he ambled his way up to the apartment. He felt relaxed coming home. He was finally able to live the life he had been so vehemently denied of by his captors.

It was hard not to think about the past. In the years since his freedom, Bucky had mourned the loss of his life in the 40’s, dealt with the shame and guilt of his actions as the Winter Soldier, and now dealt with the anxiety of the modern world. He’d chosen not to share the gory details of his actions as the Winter Soldier with you, and while you’d never pressed, he could see that curious look you gave him. But if he told you he was a ruthless killer, would you leave? The logical part of his brain said no, you’d work through it with him. But the gripping fear that you would leave was too much to bear.

So instead, he let you live in an oblivious bubble, with only trickles of information coming through. It was safer that way. You wouldn’t be a target when you didn’t know anything.

Bucky’s keys jingled as he opened the front door, undoing the multiple locks he’d had installed when he first moved in. The apartment was dark, only a soft light emanating from the television that was running repeats of some crime show Bucky knew you liked. 

A soft chuckle left Bucky as he sighted you cuddled up on the couch, strewn across the cushions with a few blankets piled on top of you, and Alpine perched happily atop your chest. Your chest rose and fell slowly, a little snore sounding with each few breaths.

Guilt began to nibble at Bucky. You’d stayed up for him. He hadn’t given you an estimated time back since he didn’t know when the mission would be over, but he knew you, and he was certain you would have had little sleep while he was away, always waiting for the front door to open.

Ignoring the empty ice cream container and takeout on the table - a problem for another time - Bucky made his way through the mountain of coziness so he could pick you up. 

Bucky’s arms looped under you, lifting you and Alpine in one scoop. Alpine mewed softly, which Bucky quickly shushed in response, not wanting you to wake. You stirred in his hold, but luckily stayed asleep. 

Unable to help himself, Bucky placed a gentle kiss to your forehead before moving to the bedroom. With the utmost care and caution, Bucky placed you down into the soft covers of the bed, tucking you in tight so you wouldn’t feel the chill of the night's air.

Within minutes, Bucky was undressed and ready to join you, left in nothing but his dog tags. He’d showered at the compound after the mission, since he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back from cuddling you the moment he set eyes on you.

Bucky climbed into bed next to you, pulling you close to spoon you while he propped his head up on his metal hand to watch you, Alpine snuggled close to your stomach. He placed his flesh hand on your chest, feeling the soft thrum of your heart through his palm. Nothing could ground him like you did. Bucky smiled, placing a kiss to your shoulder and head, allowing himself a moment of reprieve in your familiar scent.

Everything about you was just comfort. You were a beauty inside and out that Bucky felt privileged to witness. Each night, he could bid the moon goodnight knowing there were good, pure people like you in the world. 

At first, he’d hated the modern world. But when he’d met you, he’d started to think it might not be all bad.

He’d be with Steve until the end of the line, but with you, he’d be with you eternally. Even if the world ended, if everything just ceased, you’d still own his heart. The love he felt transcended the mortal realm, and was something more than he’d ever understand.

Bucky’s eyes traced your form, taking in each intricate detail of your face. Becca and his Ma would have loved you, he was sure of it. His sister would have undoubtedly given him flack for pulling a girl so sweet and stunning, and his mother would have treated you like the second daughter she never had. Bucky felt a twang in his heart that he couldn’t give you the loving family you deserved.

“Bucky.” Your dreary voice snapped Bucky back to reality, as if you knew his mind was beginning to spiral. “I love you.”

Bucky let his head rest on the pillow next to yours, but not without placing a kiss to your shoulder first. “I love you too.”

To be updated on when I post please follow @sgt-seabass-library and turn on post notifications.

[georgiapeach30513]

Kinktober 2023, Day 2

Just Pull The Trigger

Summary: Steve was obsessed. He came into our flower shop weekly. Changing that to daily quickly. Bucky watches. Neither of you were making your move, and it sickened him. it was time for him to intervene.

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, kidnapping, guns, unprotected sex, PIV sex, breeding kink, creampie, voyeurism, mind control, Russian roulette, conspiracy, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.3K

Previous

Series Masterlist

“Hey,” you hear your employee, Hilary’s, voice going up an octave, and that only means one thing. You peek your head around the corner, and there he is. He was the most handsome man you had ever laid your eyes on.

Tall, broad shoulders, there is this manliness that makes you weak in the knees. But his best feature was his smile. Steve had been coming into the flower shop way too regularly recently. Hilary loved mentioning it was your “assets” that kept him coming. But you told yourself it was mostly likely a girlfriend that loved flowers.

“What do you have fresh for today?” He asks, bashfully looking down at your counter.

“Well, we’ve got a wide range of tulips today,” his soft blue eyes look up at you, and you look quickly at the counter.

“What…what’s your favorite color of tulip?” He lifts his hand up to the counter, and you audibly whimper.

Bucky purses his lips as he focuses on the two of you. Every day. Every fucking day it was this song and dance. He’d ask you for fresh flowers. There was an awkward exchange about colors, and you always bite your lips, and make a noise. Your fingers always make the same tapping pattern. And yet you two bozos weren’t picking up on how badly you wanted to sink into one another.

If the two of you ever did have sex you would probably both have a heart attack from the build up. You two were tragic. He couldn’t sit by watching this idly happen. You seemed sweet enough. Owned a damn flower shop. You are perfect for Steve, but for whatever reason the two of you were dropping the ball!

Bucky didn’t understand. Couldn’t comprehend how his best friend just couldn’t ask you on a date. Judging by the nervous ticks you got when Steve was around, you were just as nervous, and wanted it just as much.

The ticks and the odd breathing annoyed Bucky, but Steve loved them. Wouldn’t shut up about them. Searching your name didn’t have any information either. You had to be just awkward, and untrusting. Your eyes look at Bucky nervously, and he turns around.

Bucky had to do something. He couldn’t go another day watching this pathetic encounter. He would help both of you out. It’s what friends are for. Even if it's extreme.

——

Your eyes jolt open, and you tug at your extended arms that are tied above your head to no avail. Lip trembling as you look around in this dark and damp place. Breathe. Slow down. What was the last thing you remember?

Bedtime. A noise. Grab the gun. Blackness. Someone was faster than you. Someone was quiet, and got to you. Someone had no idea what you were capable of, and still was able to get one over on you.

“Fuck,” you sigh. Not again. You swore this would never happen again. You assured yourself that you would not be in this position ever again. And now you’re trapped. Tied up. And had absolutely no idea where you are.

This is a bunch of horse shit. Look around. There was always a way out. They always made a mistake, and they allowed you an escape. You killed your ex, so you know he wasn’t out for revenge. But what were the odds of you being held captive again? Strung up and ready to devour.

Your eyes adjust to the darkness, and you give your arms a tug. Idiot. Whatever asshole tied you up didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Loose enough to wiggle one hand out. Clenching your teeth, you slowly, and painfully pull out one hand, and set to work on the other.

Heaving and crying once you’re free. Your hands weren’t pretty, but no one would ever hold you captive again. Finally looking around your whereabouts. You’d get to that breathing lump on the floor shortly. A way out was first.

Seeing a flight of stairs, you climb up it, and want to curse. This was why he didn’t care about how he tied you up. Soundproof. Automatic locks. But you are loose now. You wonder if there’s a camera watching you to know.

And then your hand finds something that could be of use. Stuffing it in your back pocket, you wander over to the lump. It was gigantic. This could be your captor, or it could be of use. You had a secret that the lump didn’t know about.

Hesitantly you give it a little kick, and the groan has you leaning over, and trying to locate his beautiful face. You obsessively knew that voice anywhere, “Steve? Steve, wake up!”

“Rosie?” He seethes as he sits up, looking around the dark room. “Rosie, are you bleeding?”

“Yeah, my name isn’t really Rosie though,” he wasn’t tied up. He was just thrown in here. Probably because he was too big.

“What? Wait, what is your name?” You give him your real name, and he leans back away from you. “What is going on?”

“My ex — he was…he was a bad man. Held me captive in a place very similar to this. I was able to get free because — well, I killed him. He had some powerful friends that wanted someone to pay. And…I moved, changed my name, my profession. And…”

“What was your profession?” Steve’s eyes flit back and forth over your face. You had wanted to leave that life alone. Be done with that life forever. It was done, and you couldn’t go back. But somehow they found you.

“I was a hired hit man for the cartel. Ugh,” you sit down with a sigh. “This time, they’re smarter. And I just wanted to live a normal life, ya know? Bring some good into the world. And this amazing guy walked into my life, but I was too in my own head to get his number or even have a one night stand.”

“And…who,” Steve looks down at his lap, trying to find the words to say, but he is coming up short. You had been thinking of someone else. He knew he should have just asked. Should have been honest, and now the chance was gone.

“You, you idiot,” no wonder he didn’t act on anything. He had no clue. You wore your cute clothes, and undid the buttons to show off your chest. He made you sweat and nervous. How did he not not?

“What?” His voice squeaks a sigh while he looks at you. Eyes wide in disbelief. “You want to have sex with me?”

“Among other things. I got this romantic idea that we’d go on a date. But then every time you came in with your veiny hands on the counter, I had to tap things because I seriously wanted to jerk you on the counter, and crawl on top of you.”

His eyes narrow as he looks you up and down. Bucky was right. You did have filthy little fantasies rolling around in your head about him. What Bucky was wrong about was how dangerous you really could be. Neither of them saw that coming. “You’re being very open.”

“I get horny when I have no control of a situation. It’s this weird thing. We’re stuck in a basement with a great door, and I am in your lap, and your cock is so fucking hard. And you’re telling me I’m being open? Your dick is telling on you.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” His brow arches up, and you look back at the door. “I think we have time. Do you think you could think clearer if you fucked me? Would you have all this nervous energy then?”

You aren’t sure where the shy Steve had gone, and you didn’t care. It was probably just because he feels like this was the end of the line for him. It wouldn’t be. You’d get both of you out of this mess, but a little fun never hurt anyone. You’d just keep your secret close by.

“This will have to be quick. We gotta find a way out,” you pull off your shirt, and Steve gawks at your bare chest. “Steve, undress. We don’t have time for sweet,” you pull your tits out of your bra, tucking the material under their swells before wiggling out of your jeans.

He scrambles to get himself undressed, nearly falling as he stands to get his pants down, “Leave the underwear on. We can run like that.”

“You act like you’ve…” you shoot him an angry glance over him. “Right. I’m sorry, you have done this before. Oh good lord,” he moans. You push at his chest, wanting him to sit down before straddling his legs.

Moving aside your panties as you lower yourself over him. “Ahh,” he whimpers when your hand circles the base of his cock, running it through your slick. You sick fuck. Why did fear always get you aroused? You’d missed this danger and excitement.

Stopping your movements, you hold him steady as you slowly sink over him. Going cross eyed at the stretch, and wanting to curse this situation for not being able to take your time. Going far too fast to feel him divide your walls. He sits frozen when you take every inch of his glorious cock. Whining when you take him balls deep.

Having to slap him a tiny bit, “Steve, breathe, baby. Are you a virgin?”

“Mhmm,” he manages to get out, shaking his head with his response. “I-I-I-I wanted this for so long.”

“You could have had it,” your voice whines as you lift yourself off him. Dropping back down quickly so you can feel the tight pound into you. “You could have had this every night,” repeating the process, but this time faster. “Every day. Whenever you wanted. The shop is a cover.”

“Yeah,” he is in a trance. Didn’t care about a damn thing you had to say. “Yeah. Always. Always. Mine. Mine.”

You lean your head back, getting into the rhythm as your body swallows him whole. It was natural. Like you were made for Steve. Nothing could ever compare to this feeling. A familiarity to it. “Just like that,” he growls on you, but you are oblivious.

“Take it all,” you are. Taking all of it. “Fill you up,” he is filling you up so well. Perfect. Amazing. Glorious. “Breed you for the cause.”

“Yeah. Yeah! Fuck yeah!” You scream out as you race for your finish.

“Just like you were made to do!”

“Fuuuck!” You scream out, and Steve’s hand circles around your throat. A rush of endorphins and euphoria moves to every bone.

“Well, that took long enough,” your eyes burst open. Silvery blue eyes in the shadow make you want to retreat. “Hail Hydra and all. Stevie, don’t let her move, Captain.”

“You son of a bitch! I killed you!”

“No, you shot me. Hydra heeled me. Now, beg your soldier to fuck you,” you hated him. Flashes of memories of all the people you had killed move through your mind, and you slap your hand on your head. “They’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. You’re Hydra, too. They just had more use for you than just a cumdump. We gotta let that cum marinate, and then it’s my turn. We’re not letting you go until you’re swollen with one of us. Get used to being used.”

This is cruel. Steve felt so good, and you didn’t even recognize him without his muzzle. How could you forget those eyes? Still connected, and leaking his cum, but you had a secret. The soldier was an idiot.

“But I know something you don’t know,” you tease the soldier a bit. It’s a shame he’s as beautiful as he is. Because he is cruel, and you hated being their breeding bunny.

“Oh?” Bucky smiles, looking at your tits more than you. His eyes return back to yours, and you gently reach over to your pants. Thankfully kept this from Steve, too. “What do you know?”

Grabbing up the pistol, you point it at Steve’s head, and he drops his hand from around your neck. Holding up his hands in surrender as you remove himself from you. Whimpering at the loss of him. Ignoring his seed that was seeping out on your leg.

Moving the gun between the two of them as you back away. “You’re still forgetting something yourself, Viper. Who dies?” The soldier kicks Steve’s pants towards him, keeping his soulless eyes on you.

Both men start stalking towards you. Who? Who dies? Who to choose. You take a breath, and take it deep. Calm yourself. It was an easy choice. They give you an evil grin.

“One,” you whisper. Sweat beads along your hairline. Moving slowly towards the stairs.

“Two,” you shouldn’t have any time to think. There was only one option.

“Three,” it was your turn. You wouldn’t be held captive again. You turn the gun to your own head. Pulling the trigger.

Click.

They can see your heart beating through your chest, as you sink to your knees. “Did you really think we’d be dumb enough to leave a loaded gun for you to get,” your lip trembles as the soldier gets right in your face. “Welcome home, honey.”

“Soldier, tie her up. Give her a chance to realize how amazing she is. She was willing to die. Now she’s reborn. It won’t take much for her brain to get scrambled again," Steve chuckles from behind Bucky. And so the cycle begins again.

It didn’t work. It never did. But you would escape. And you would run. One of these times they wouldn’t catch back up to you.

One day.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @buckybarnesisdaddy @magnificentsaladllama

[rassvetsky]

there's bucky on your masterlist so here i go, bucky hiding and taking care of reader when the reader is being searched for? maybe the reader is a former enhanced soldier or something like that too. i hope i made myself clear lol thanks!

tysm for the request!! im actually so happy that i got a bucky barnes request hehe (and this specific anon sent me another ask with a pt. 2 idea are they perhaps an angel.)

Lost & Found

bucky barnes x gn!reader

it takes one brainwashed soldier to find another.

[3.6k] | ex hydra!reader, mentions of torture, mentions of brainwashing, mentions of murder, being chased, trust issues, traumatized reader, my poor english skills & bucky being a sweetheart. pt. 2 later maybe??

reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback much appreciated! not proofread.

Your legs felt like they could give out any minute, your lungs burning with the lack of oxygen. You didn't feel like you had enough time for a deep breath as your feet carried you forward, making you feel a bit dizzy and disconnected. The relief of knowing kept you sane, however. Knowing where you were, what you were doing, who you were.

God, you missed knowing who you were.

Before it all, you were an excellent Intelligence Officer, under SHIELD's wing. Kept your personal life and job far away from one another, divided by a three-meter long rampier. Came back from work to a quiet, warm apartment where you could finally relax and unwind.

That was until during one mission, everything went downhill and you lost contact with the rest of your team- your tracker was broken to pieces after the fall, your body covered in debris. And even though you expected to see familiar faces when you finally opened your eyes with a pained grunt, you only saw the muzzles of a few guns pointed at you, before you blacked out again.

That's where a brand new chapter in your life started, erasing each and every single one behind.

Memories of the past few years were reduced to snippets of gore. Your blood, mixed against someone else's. Torture, inflicted by you, or to you. Information that didn't belong to you instilled in your brain. You didn't have a say in it. You couldn't, because how could anyone stand their ground against scary men with weapons bigger than themselves?

It took them a long while to trust you with missions. Your mind refused to let them in at first, knowing exactly what was to come. Exactly what they were trying to create out of you. You held on for as long as you could, no matter how painful it was because you still knew that even if you cooperated, they'd still hurt you, just to break into the barriers of the human mind.

When they started making progress with the brainwashing period, the training period started. That part was a bit rushed, you were a needed asset and you couldn't be kept in a base forever. Certain missions were supposed to be completed, and most of the time, they weren't that hard on you. Even though they didn't let you go on every single mission, the ones you went on were exactly what you were trained for. Infiltrate, execute, abandon. Nothing big. Get back to the base, and wait. Until next time that they'd need you.

You didn't plan on going back. Not anymore.

And that's why when the base got raided down, you didn't stay to help. You didn't stay to be rescued, even though you knew exactly who was behind the raid and they could definitely help. Through the sound of bullets shooting through, walls being broken down, and screams of pure agony, you still ran, far away from anyone that could recognize you.

But Bucky did.

You gave him the push to escape after the Battle of Triskelion, and still, let him go. Told him to never come back, no matter what. Didn't tell anyone.

He wanted to come back for you, he tried to; but you were moved away before he could get to you. And with that, you were a ghost again. Untraceable. Back to square one, former intelligence officer of SHIELD that got 'killed' after a certain job. Someone who knew too much, someone nobody dared to look for.

He tried to get his hands on everything he could find about you. The school you went to, your late family, former co-workers; everything. Intervention after intervention, at some point, he finally stopped chasing after a ghost, taking Steve's advice. But even when nobody saw you run, he did, and he would recognize you anywhere. Just like you did for him years ago, he let you go, and didn't tell anyone.

It took you a while to get back to your senses. Your brain desperately wanted you to go back to the base, just because you got used to it all. It was a constant battle between knowing you should never go back to that hell, and feeling worthless unless you do.

You knew that couldn't just resurface after all those years, after everything you've done. After everything they made you do. Even though you didn't have a say in anything, you were still the one who pulled the trigger, and you wouldn't exactly blame anyone for thinking that you changed your side on purpose, brainwashed or not.

And back to the moment, as everything you've been through flashed before your eyes, you kept running. It was the desire to stay alive that kept you up on your feet, that let you run even faster than you thought you could.

Out of all the other places, you didn't expect to be found in Slovakia, and honestly, you weren't even sure who it was behind you, but you still ran through the empty streets in the night, footsteps as quiet as they could get as you pushed yourself forward with every ounce of power left in your body.

But the sound of the motorcycle engine kept drawing closer and closer, as you held onto the straps of your backpack tighter and kept going. The pads of your feet, your calves, they all hurt but you weren't going to stop now. Not that easy. And when you finally saw your figure shadowing the motorcycle's headlight, you reached for your pistol, silencer worn.

The engine stopped. You stopped. And for a moment, nobody dared to make a move. Not even a sound was spared through the quiet nature of the night before you slowly turned around, pistol pointed towards the driver. Tactical outfit, fully black as if he wanted to blend in with the shadows, just like you. He seemed muscular, biceps visible through the thick material. And he just stood there, not even daring to draw a weapon. Just stared, you assumed, behind the helmet.

"I'm going to ask this once," you spoke up, voice raspy and a bit out of breath. "and you're not getting more than ten seconds to answer. Make a move, you're dead." you took a few steps towards him, shaky hand clutching the cold metal weapon so tight that you felt like it wasn't even shaking anymore. "Who are you?"

He didn't answer at first. Just reached for his helmet, as slowly as he could, before lifting it off his head. Brown, medium-length hair fell against his face before he pushed them behind, and a pair of eyes locked gaze with yours. You could see him with the street light's contribution, and the face was way too familiar, so you figured he was one of the-

Oh.

Of course.

Those steel blue eyes. You'd recognize them anywhere. "Got your answer?" he spoke, for the first time, and his voice erased every single one of your suspicions. It was him. The one and only, Winter Soldier, most important asset of HYDRA. The one you were sent a hundred times to clean up after, to protect, to report to. Only he could be dumb enough to come back for you, even when you specifically told him not to.

"Asset."

The long motorcycle ride didn't help with your exhaustion, it only added to the fuel in the end. No words were spared until he led you to an empty apartment and locked the door behind the two of you, as you dropped your backpack on the couch before sitting down with a grunt. The place seemed quite rundown and empty, it was even cold. You didn't let your attention linger for any longer though, as your gaze fell to the hardwood ground beneath your feet.

Feeling his eyes on you, you decided to keep asking your questions until you could feel satisfied. Until you could feel trust forming. "How'd you find me?" you asked, watching him as he handed you a bottle of water, which he took from the console by the side of the room. He didn't speak until you took a few sips -which kind of made your throat hurt after all those hours of endless running and gasping for air-, taking a seat on the couch right by the side of yours, leaning back with a sigh of comfort.

"Let's just say I know the path a brainwashed soldier would follow," his tone was soft, almost as if he was trying to assure you that he wasn't posing as a threat here. He was on your side, his eyes desperately tried to tell you that. They held a glint of sympathy and understanding that you haven't seen from him before, back then you only knew him as HYDRA's fucktoy, held up to a certain importance which didn't keep him off from torture by any means. "You weren't easy to find, I'll give you that-"

"Why?" you blurted out, elbows against your knees as you buried your face in your palms. It all hurt- your brain felt like it was way bigger than your skull and you swore you could feel the pressure against the bone. Your throat was still sore, your legs felt numb and you just wanted to keep your eyes closed for a week straight. And through it all, you knew it wasn't worth it to go through all of that trouble, just to find you. You couldn't help but wonder if he had other plans with you, but for some reason, a voice in your head kept telling you to trust him. "Why would you even fucking bother?"

"Why did you bother?" he snapped back, one side of his lips tugged upward in a cheshire-like grin, just a bit more friendly than that. "I'm just paying you back." you didn't answer that, not exactly knowing what to say. You just exhaled through your mouth, looking up at him after a while of contemplating everything.

"I don't even know your name. You're just- Winter Soldier. The Asset, for me."

"I know yours."

"That's just creepy." and he chuckled at that, amused.

"It's Barnes. Bucky Barnes. Kind of surprised I wasn't the first thing you looked up after escaping." you shook your head, only able to offer a poor excuse of a smile as you rose up to your feet, all-tactical outfit not comfortable in the slightest bit.

You didn't tell him that you barely had an hour to sit down, the paranoia of being found eating you alive as you kept yourself in the shadows.

"I'm going to take a shower. And go to sleep. Don't make me regret trusting you, Barnes."

Let's just say, he didn't make you regret trusting him one bit. The two of you remained hidden for a couple of days in Slovakia, before escaping to Romania through the Hungarian border. It was an almost an eight-hour drive including your stops and the detours -and God, it made you hate motorcycles- before you two reached a safer spot -in his words-, to plan what to do next.

Bucky knew that the Avengers wouldn't trust you at first. For all the right reasons, obviously, he wasn't even sure why he trusted you in the first place. You just had something about you, a light in your eyes that still persisted, gentleness in your movement. He saw himself in you.

You weren't exactly in a condition where you could trust anyone either, you knew that the Avengers weren't the bad guys, not in the slightest, but you knew what kind of judgment you were going to face. The man helping you hide told you all about the judgment he went through. The fight between Stark and Rogers, how things that happened outside of his control caused a turmoil of events which eventually led to almost being killed by an Avenger. Not that Stark was wrong whatsoever, but you both knew that if HYDRA wanted you to do something, you would do it. Because the consequences would be far more horrendous.

And honestly, after all of that trauma, you weren't sure you could go through another set of people telling you that you're a disgusting murderer, nothing above an asset, nothing more than a toy. An evil being by choice.

And sure, you weren't former best friends with Steve fucking Rogers, you and Bucky barely knew one another. It only made sense for you to fear whatever it is that could come from the Avengers. "You know, you can't be on the run forever," Bucky absent-mindedly mumbled when you two were relaxing by the couch one day, while snacking on the leftover fries you ignored earlier, as you kept your eyes on the cartoon playing on the screen.

"Nothing else that I can do," you shrugged, reaching for his lap to steal a piece of food. He kept looking at you, this couldn't be kept up forever. The Avengers kept asking him where he was and what he was doing, and just for the sake of you, he had been lying to his friends for weeks now.

"Look, even if nobody else does, Sam and Steve would trust you," he huffed out, trying to reason with you. He understood the paranoia that kept you on the edge, but it wasn't like you were completely helpless. "Can't we give it a try?"

"If you want to leave so bad, Barnes, just go. You don't have to drag me along." you sighed, tucking your feet under your body to keep them warm. "I'm so grateful for everything you've done but please, I won't need your protection forever."

"And I know you don't, sweetheart," he wasn't giving it up, not that easy. Getting a hold of your wrist, he tried to tug you a bit closer. "But you need to trust me, yeah? Nobody's going to judge you while I'm here, not like they judged me. I'll make sure of that."

At that, you finally looked at him, heaving yet another sigh before reaching in to wrap your arms around his neck.

That was new.

You buried your head on his shoulder, eyes closed as you felt his arms wrap around your figure, too. His embrace was warm, humane, and so foreign that it made you flinch against his figure at first. Even though you fought against the trauma, it had still been years since you've had anyone touch you in a friendly way. "It's not that I don't trust you," you whispered. "I'm just afraid of everything going downhill again and- and ending up exactly where I started."

Bucky felt your pain in his chest, too. "That's not going to happen," he whispered back, reassuringly patting your back. "Not while you got me by your side. And if you'll only let me, Sam and Steve, too. Nothing you've done is unredeemable, there's nothing to be ashamed of." he pulled you away a bit, just to have you looking at him. "This isn't nearly as safe as where I want us both to be. Nobody can hurt you there. We'll- we'll find a way to get rid of the nightmares, the guilt- everything."

You could only nod as an answer, already -mentally- exhausted by everything that had been going on. You leaned on him for a while longer as he held you, whispering things in your ear that felt just right to hear. Some way, somehow; he knew exactly how to keep your mind at the moment, rather than in the past. He knew exactly how to remind you that it was all behind you now, and you only had the moment and the future coming after.

A few more days passed until you gave in and let him give the infamous Captain America and the Falcon a call, you specifically waited in your room until his conversation with them would be over because you didn't feel like you could handle the slightest bit of distress on his face at that moment. Your worries proved themselves to be unnecessary though, as Bucky burst into the room after a few minutes, relief clear on his face.

"Steve said he'll talk to Tony," he hummed, settling down on the bed right next to you. "Tony can be a bit suspicious of literally anything, but he means well. Hopefully, they'll arrange a ride for us and we'll be on our way, alright?"

"Right," you noted, a timid smile on your lips as you reached for his hand, holding it between both of your palms. "Thank you, Bucky."

"Anything for you."

You noticed how time would pass a bit faster in the Avengers Compound, as you were surrounded by things to spend your day with. You often found yourself in the training room, taking your frustrations out from a poor punching bag -which you started to feel bad for, even though it was clearly inanimate- or watching whatever movie you could find.

You didn't really talk to anyone else other than Bucky, and they didn't push it. After a few interrogation sessions -which Steve assured you that they were done just to learn more about what HYDRA did to you-, you were finally left alone -at least a little bit-, deciding to spend your time trying to get to know these people. You knew they used to work for SHIELD as well, but you never personally worked with them.

You found it easy to be comfortable with Natasha, she wasn't the most emotionally available person ever but she understood what you went through.

She'd try to drag you along to get-togethers, brush out your hair when you felt too out-of-it to do so, and sometimes even sit with you through a movie.

Sam was a bit harder to be around, but he was way too sweet for his own good. He did almost everything in his power to get you to play table tennis with him and to make it a usual "Y/N and Sam time" event, and it meant the world if he could get a smile out of your mostly-neutral expressions.

Steve was patient. He was easy to talk to, and easy to be around. And you knew that it was him who trusted you the most, after Bucky. He made sure you didn't skip any meals and kept your training up just so you wouldn't fall behind.

"If you want to redeem yourself," he said one day, after a particularly exhausting session, "You could help around in the Compound, or with missions. Not saying you have to, but if you ever wanted to, I'd love for you to tag along."

You were forever grateful.

The rest took a bit longer to give you the benefit of the doubt, but your fears diminished with time. There were certain ground rules -such as an alert system going off whenever you left your room, and of course, any sharp objects were kept far, far away from you- but finally, you were above a freak. A murderer.

After one long day, while everyone was huddled up in a room to watch a basketball game -which, according to Sam, was the most important thing to happen in the past few years-, you decided to get some fresh air and join them later.

Stepping out of the compound building, you sighed contently, the late night breeze waking your entire being up successfully. You paced around by yourself for a small while, before hearing the sliding door open, a smile making its way to your face almost immediately when you noticed it was Bucky. "Hey, you," he walked towards you, hands tucked tight in his jeans pockets.

You kept your eyes on him, expression soft and relaxed -which, Bucky wasn't used to seeing, but he could admit that it was one of the most beautiful sights he laid his eyes on-. "Aren't you gonna watch the game?"

"You weren't there, so," he shrugged, earning a subtle chuckle from you. It was then, that he reached for you and wrapped his flesh arm around your shoulder, tucking you close to his chest. "I'm glad you're here, you know?"

"Me too," you leaned against him, wrapping your own arms around his waist loosely as you looked up at the stars, at the moon. You were sure Bucky was the one to hang it there. "I'll- I'll get back on my feet as quickly as I can. And then I'll be of use, I promise."

"You don't have to rush," he snickered against your hair. "Let yourself heal. It's just nice to know that you're safe."

You slightly pulled away from him, hand against his chest as you looked up at his eyes. They were shining in all the right ways, reminding you where home was. By his side.

Now or never, you thought, before raising yourself a bit on your feet and planting your lips against his, unable to break away from the tentative kiss even after a few moments as he held you there. As he kissed you back. And he was so gentle as if you were made out of porcelain; soft lips brushing against yours with a meek passion. Each and every touch of his lips added fuel to the wildfire burning through your insides, keeping you warm through the breeze. You held his face in your palms as he tucked you closer to his body, both of you smiling against the kiss until it broke away.

"I've been planning on doing that for weeks." he breathed out, chuckling to himself in disbelief as he shook his head. "So thanks, for stealing my idea."

"Oh shush."

[stuckysbike]

Howl 5

Werewolf AU

Werewolf!Bucky x Werewolf!Reader

Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader (for now).

Warnings: werewolf Bucky, werewolf Steve, werewolf Nat, dark themes. Mature, 18+. Exes to lovers (hopefully). Descriptions of adult dancing. Some rough handling for reader from Bucky. Angst.

Previous

As Steve’s enforcer, Bucky was always kept busy, so you didn’t see much of him.

Those first few days after you rescued Jamie you rested, getting your strength back and spending time with your little boy, reinforcing your bond and reminding him how much you loved him.

Getting him into school was easy, Becs was a teacher, and you settled into a routine.

Bucky seemed happy to have company and he indulged Jamie with books and toys. You understood, he had years to make up for but you’d always struggled with extra gifts and you felt inadequate.

Bucky kept you at arms length, you suspected on the advice of his friends and family. You had hoped he’d be more generous with time for you but all his spare time was devoted to Jamie and father son bonding. You rarely joined them for outings and it hurt, you’d never been able to do those things either but you were here on Bucky’s charity so you didn’t complain least he chase you out.

You busied yourself cooking and cleaning and trying to earn your keep but eventually cabin fever began to settle in.

You went out to find a job, but they were few and far between and those that were advertised were suddenly filled when you enquired, so when you pulled into the parking lot at Dance, you hope no one that you knew spotted you.

Inside you relaxed, you let your body settle into the music, that familiar rhythm. Trev hired you for a few afternoons and a Friday night. You told Bucky you’d got a job in a bar, technically not a lie. He didn’t question it.

You had been back six weeks when Natasha called you wanting a visit with you. She was a lawyer, and she needed to discuss some important matters. Curious you went to the appointment.

“You’re a lucky young lady,” Natasha said.

You frowned, unsure of what she meant.

“Your birth parents left you a very generous care package after they died. Your stepfather had used all the funds that were accessible but there are bonds and properties that you’ll have access to every few years.”

“So I’m not as broke as I thought?” You asked.

“You’ll get a lump sum payment when you’re 28,” Natasha said. “Another when you’re thirty and so on,” Natasha said. “Your step-family were trying to have you declared dead to access your assets. I suspect that’s why they ran you off.”

“Bastards,” you muttered to yourself.

“Unfortunately there’s no money right now. We can sue but with your step father in the mines awaiting trial it will be a long arduous process,” Natasha explained.

“It’s okay I got a job,” you said.

Natasha nodded. “How are you settling in?”

You smiled. “It’s weird not running away, I’m still finding my feet.”

“Jamie seems happy,” Natasha said.

“He’s my priority. How do I make sure he’s taken care of?” You indicated the files.

Natasha smiled. “I have a money man, I’ll set up an appointment. Why don’t we get lunch?”

You smiled, thrilled to be asked to join her for lunch. Perhaps you could make some new friends if your old ones were reluctant to thaw out.

—————

As the weeks went past Bucky kept a distance. There were moments where you thought he was going to kiss you, moments where you caught each other off guard, but he’d push away, and your heart would break just a little more.

Living here was worse than you and Jamie hiding out from your family, from Brock. At least you knew what they wanted from you but with Bucky it was torture.

His family remained cold towards you, as did Steve, but you pushed through it, focusing your free time on Jamie and doing your share of the household chores.

Brock, your step father and step brother and sheriff Rollins were all sentenced to time in the mines, and you couldn’t help but feel relief at that, knowing you had a little more freedom.

You hadn’t went to the trials, you weren’t required so you kept your head down and got on with your life, but you knew that something would need to change sooner rather than later.

—————

It happened so fast, you were upside down, your legs wrapped around the pole, your hands holding your breasts as if they might escape the bra you wore.

And then you saw him. It was just a flicker, and you pulled yourself up, twisting and turning into a few different moves before you got the chance to look, but there, a few tables away from your podium was Bucky, Steve and a few of the pack sipping on beers and admiring the girl in front of them.

He hadn’t spotted you yet, and you hoped he didn’t but you knew he would, he was a sharp guy. Rayna wiggled herself low, her ass in Bucky’s face as he slid a few bills into the waistband with a saucy grin.

The boys laughed at something Bucky said and as the music changed you stepped away from your podium, smiling at Kitten as she took your place and made your way to the changing rooms at the back. You were almost at the door when a strong hand wrapped around your upper arm and you were looking into Bucky’s crystal blue eyes. He looked down to your toes, then back up, his breathing deep.

Your heart raced as he leaned closer, your eyes fluttered and you could feel the tension tide.

“Outside. Now,” he said as he started walking and you followed in your heels, conscious that you only wore a tiny bra, a tight corset and a thong. You stumbled on a stone but Bucky yanked you upright as he headed towards the parking lot.

“Bucky-“

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bucky snarled as your back hit the wire fence. He looked over you, whiskey tainted breath fanning over your cheeks.

“I need to make money somehow,” you said, looking at him through your eyelashes.

“By whoring yourself out?” Bucky’s eyes darkened and he gripped your arm tighter.

It was a mild night, for March, but you still shivered when he looked you over again. “I’m dancing. I don’t fuck the punters.”

“You told me you were working in a bar,” Bucky snarled. His chest vibrated with a deep growl.

“There’s a bar in there, they serve alcohol,” you shrugged.

Bucky’s eyes flashed and he looked skywards for a moment. “Is this really the life you want, dancing for them?” He hissed as he nodded towards the club.

“You’re a piece of shit you know that Buck. Ten minutes ago you were in there with your beer and your whiskey and your dollar bills sticking them in Rayna’s panties but you see me and go all high and mighty you fucking hypocrite!” You cried the last part out, shoving at his broad chest but he hardly moved.

“You shouldn’t be doing it. Your the mother of my child!” Bucky snarled.

“Yeah. I am. How do you think we got by Buck, running and hiding from my step family? I was like some sort of fucking Cinderella only I wasn’t lucky enough to have a Prince Charming!”

“You had me? What the fuck was I huh?” Bucky was furious and your head hurt from all the suppressed emotions.

“Difference is, Prince Charming looked for his girl after she left her glass slipper behind, you just fucking moped over me,” you snapped. This time he moved when you shoved him.

His eyes were wide, lips parted and chest heaving.

“I waited for you, out at Heart Lake. Our spot by the tree. I waited three fucking days for you, then I came back all the time. To our spot. I came back and waited for you until I couldn’t any more. So yeah I ran away but I didn’t go far.” You laughed, even as tears burned your eyes, and shook your head. “Who am I kidding I was no Princess, girls like me don’t get a Prince, we just get a fuck ton of baggage and a broken heart.”

You walked towards the club, the sound of the music carrying towards you. Bucky didn’t move, he stood where you left him staring at a spot on the ground.

You opened the door and found your boss easily. “I gotta’ go home Trev,” you said and he nodded. He wasn’t a bad guy to work for.

You changed and grabbed your stuff and on the way out you noticed Bucky was back sitting with his friends, his thumb picking at the label on the beer bottle. You waited for sixty seconds or so, and when he didn’t look over, even after Steve noticed you and whispered something to him, you left.

[alltheficsiwant]

J's Bucky Barnes Master List

Hello! Welcome to my Bucky Barnes Master List Since my list of works are growing, I would create a different link for Bucky's AU master list. For now all his works are here. ENJOY!!!

Legends:

🤗 - Fluff

💔 - Angst

🖤 - Dark Themes

🌶 - Smut/Prelude to Smut/Lemons

Trigger Warnings: I do tend to be graphic with violence and other dark themes. All except for SMUT (Which I am struggling to write). Please read with CAUTION.

TWSATF! James "Bucky" Barnes

➡ The List 🤗💔 (An entry for Falling In Love Writing Challenge)

➡ Jackal (Asset!Reader) 💔🖤 In progress….. [Title still can be changed already five parts in.]

Mob Boss! James "White Wolf" Barnes

🦊Foxy meets 🐺Wolfie Series (MobBoss!Bucky x TechGeniusFemale!Reader) Summary: The adventures of our beloved Tech Genius, Foxy and her Big Bad Wolfie, Bucky. [Arranged by when the one shots happened and not by the date posted.]

➡ When Foxy meets Wolfie 🤗 Summary: The story how Foxy met Wolfie.

➡ Watched 🖤🤗 Summary: Foxy finds herself again in danger. This time, she has one more option to call for help. Will she do it?

➡ In the eyes of the Wolf 🤗 In Progress...

➡ Crazy Exes 🖤🌶🤗 In Progress...

➡ Fear 💔🖤🤗🌶 Summary: Bucky has no fear, up until he met Foxy. Now, he has something to fear. Losing you.

➡ Enemies 💔🤗🖤 (A lil bit of angst) Summary: Bucky has enemies. He used to fight them alone, now he has you on his side. It's interesting what a Fox would do and Bucky is in for a surprise how much capable you are in the field you work best.

➡ Gummy Bears 🤗 Summary: Bucky isn’t really a big fan of your dietary consumption which consist of red bulls, chips and gummy bears. So when you run out of it, Bucky, despite the protest of his stomach and six-pack abs, would do anything to get, you, your precious Gummy Bears.

➡ The Halloween Experience 🤗🌶 In Progress...

➡ Vacation 🌶

Professor! James Barnes

➡ Love of my life 🤗🌶 In Progress.... [THIS IS A REQUEST]

BACK TO MAIN MASTERLIST

[buckybarnessunflower]

Domino Effect

Description: Bucky Barnes is Hydra's greatest asset, the world's top assassin. He never misses a target, but his latest mission involves YOU, the woman he loves, the woman with a broken heart because of him. You're on the run with your sister Natasha Romanoff, together you are the most feared Widow's, you know your ex will be the one sent to kill you and your sister. Will he do it?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X reader

Warnings: Chapter warnings will be posted with each chapter

Word Count: 1126

Chapter Warnings: Very brief description of death, Mafia!Bucky , Bucky working for Hydra

Bucky was surrounded in darkness, the building he was in long ago cutting off the electricity but that’s what he needed for the mission he was on.

The darkness was welcomed.

He couldn’t be seen by anyone.

He needed an easy way out once he completed the mission.

Hydra wouldn’t allow any mistakes, that was a quick death sentence.

But Bucky was the best Hydra operative in years, he never missed a target, there were no mistakes and at the end of the day money was wired into an overseas bank account that couldn’t be traced.

“I’ve got eyes on the target,” Bucky said into his earpiece. 

“Better be a clean shot Soldat, I don’t want to be cleaning up another mess this month. Loki did enough of that.” Brock Rumlow said with a low growl.

Bucky’s brow furrowed in concentration as he followed his target through the scope of his sniper, his finger moved closer to the trigger waiting for a clear shot.

The man was wearing a tailor-made gray suit, his cufflinks shining from the flashing neon lights up above the club he was in. He turned around completely unaware that he was being watched as he talked to a blonde haired woman wearing a skin tight dress.

A half-second later Bucky pulled the trigger, the bullet escaped the barrel of his gun, the silencer ensuring that no one would hear it as the bullet entered and exited from his neck. Even from the ledge where he was perched at Bucky could see the rich red blood spill out onto the man’s expensive suit, staining it as he took his last breath.

Bucky was quick to pack up his sniper and head down the winding staircase of the uninhabited building he had been in; he could hear sirens rushing down the streets of Vienna as he got into the unmarked car he had been assigned.

“Be at the airport in 15, we got a new assignment for you soldat” Brock said before cutting off access to the line.

Bucky’s ice-cold blue eyes gazed upon the large spacious red-brick mansion he was driving up to. Men with guns stood by the black spiked gates, fingers on the trigger ready to kill any intruder or anyone that wandered too far down the road. The gate squeaked as it opened enough for his car to pass through, the mansion looked hauntingly beautiful the closer he got. The red bricks were discolored from the weather and age, ivy grew up the sides traveling up the vast space of the building.

Bucky always hated having to meet with the man currently sitting in front of him, his smile was always sinister that came from being the head of Hydra the past 2 decades, a long jagged scar ran from his hairline down to his chin,and his eyes obsidian black; Bucky often wondered if he was the devil reincarnated. Alexander Pierce was his name and Bucky was his favorite asset if there ever was one. 

“Soldat you completed your last mission with no problems I see” he said, raising a glass of Whiskey and taking a sip.

“Yes sir” Bucky replied, straightening his back.

Pierce stared at him, his smile widening just a little at the thought of how many successful missions the man before him had completed, how much money he had gained after each kill was completed.

“You’re the best agent we have Soldat, it’s too bad we have failures in our ranks like Loki; that smug idiot cost me millions last week” he said, tightening his hold on the glass in his hand, a crack appearing under the pressure.

Bucky did not respond, he knew by now to only speak when spoken to.

Pierce sighed as he stood and grabbed 2 files out of his cabinet.

“That’s why I'm sending you on this mission, it’s under the table, an inside job that only a select few have access to” Pierce continued as he walked around the large oak table to stand beside Bucky.

“You see Soldat when one domino falls so do the rest and you know I’m an organized man with very little patience, so I want this done as soon as possible before these 2 insects ruin our operation” He finished handing Bucky the 2 files in his hand and walking back to his chair.

“I’ll have it done as soon as possible sir” he said, sliding the files into the lining inside of his suit.

“I know you will Soldat, that’s why I assigned you to the mission”

Bucky glanced up to see Pierce’s smirk had disappeared, a frown replacing it. He watched as he trailed a finger down the scar on his face, a thoughtful look behind his eyes.

“These 2 insects are former Widow’s, take whatever you need to ensure the job is done, I want them both dead and their heads delivered to me” He finished looking at Bucky with rage in his eyes, maliciousness dripped from every word. Bucky only nodded his head in understanding before leaving.

“Boss has his favorite on the job I see” Rumlow said before Bucky made it back to his car.

“Jealous?” Bucky asked with a toothy grin when he saw how angry Rumlow was.

“Fuck you” he spat watching Bucky get in his car chuckling, which only infuriated him more by how unbothered he was.

Only when Bucky was alone in his apartment, each lock latched, and curtains tightly closed did he take a look at the files Pierce gave him. 

No amount of training could have stopped the gasp that escaped his lips when he saw who he was supposed to kill.

Natasha and Y/n Romanoff. The 2 best Widow’s that came out of the Black Widow program, sisters that had more combined kills than most of the Hydra agents combined. 

His icy blue gaze softened when they fell on your picture, You had been in love and so had he but he chose his job over marrying you.

He couldn’t help but wince at the memory of tears cascading down your cheeks when he told you that he didn’t want to marry you.

It had been a lie.

He loved you, loved you more than anything but the thought of settling down and starting a family terrified him, he wasn’t the type of man you marry, wasn’t what he thought you deserved.

After that night you had cut off all contact with him, he could not imagine what you and your sister Nat had done to have such a big target on your backs.

He knew this would be the hardest mission he had ever been assigned but you were his new target and Bucky Barnes never missed his target.

Part Two>

[cadavercowboy]

Resolute

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Everyone’s got a creepy, skeevy ex that they’d rather not see again. Not everyone has a beefy super-soldier at their disposal to protect them from that. 

Word Count: 7.3k+

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, sexual assault, & past trauma. Violence. Me trying to write fluff.

A/N: I would love to say that this was a piece I had put together and didn’t get around to posting, but as per usual...my monkey brain is late to the party and decided to come up with a New Year’s themed story 10 days after the fact. 

You don’t know whose grand and gaudy house this is, but you hope to someday make even a fraction of their income if this is among the riches that come with it. Based on the sheer size of their home, this person must be a millionaire. Maybe even a billionaire. That’s something you could only ever dream of.

Not that you can really complain about the decent money you make working at Stark Industries, however. Being a data analyst is the closest you’ll ever come to being an Avenger; on account of the unfortunate lack of superpowers, inhuman strength, or otherwise useful physical assets. 

But you’re smart. You’re really, really smart. You’re the driving force behind each and every mission, spending hours poring over notes and data and conducting the extensive research to provide the requisite intel for all the upcoming assignments. Taking part in a role that makes you an absolute necessity is enough of an asset to make you feel like part of the team.

Being involved in get-togethers and gatherings also helps as far as making you feel included. You’ve grown quite close with almost everyone on the team — some more than others, for sure — but Tony is easily your favorite. He’d texted you on relatively short notice early this evening, apologizing for his usual forgetfulness and inviting you to attend some haughty New Year’s Eve party with him. When he’d asked you to come as his date, a second message immediately followed to clarify that you would be doing so strictly as a friend.

The clarification had earned a chuckle from you; Tony is more like a father figure than anything else, and though you’ve given him the nickname of ‘Playboy’, you both know you’ll never cross that line. Of course you’re going to say yes to the invitation — you’re willing to do almost anything for Tony — but the added bonus that everyone else is attending as well really solidified the decision.

It’s only been a little over a week since you’ve seen the team, on account of the recent holiday, but you’re still excited to get together with them. Without much of a family of your own, they’ve been a more than welcoming substitute; a little band of misfits that have each carved out a special place in your heart. You’ve kept in contact with Steve, Natasha, and Bruce; exchanging brief messages to wish one another a Merry Christmas. Thor had received your well wishes, too, though he mostly keeps to himself so you never really expect him to answer your texts. And Bucky? Well, you’ve barely said more than a few words to that particular grumpy Avenger since joining forces with Stark Industries.

You direct the luxurious town car Tony had lent to you — after a long-winded argument where he insisted on simply sending a limo for you — in front of a ridiculously lavish mansion; standing out from the darkened sky with it’s warm glowing lights and minimal decoration. Careful to keep your knees together, you thank the valet who opens your door and takes your hand to assist you as you climb from the vehicle. 

From the vast stone staircase comes Tony, striding determinedly in your direction to meet you in the driveway. Dressed in a spiffy designer suit, Tony looks spectacular; he normally does, though. But with his beard trimmed just so and his hair slicked back in a tight, black coif, you can’t help noticing just how regal the man appears tonight.

“There she is,” he drawls, arms spread wide in greeting. “You look incredible, my dear.”

You duck your head in mock embarrassment, waving Tony’s compliment away with a dismissive hand and a demure giggle. When he repeats the compliment even louder so that anyone within earshot can hear it, you can’t help relenting and striking a playfully seductive pose. Your reaction prompts a dramatic round of applause from Tony as he takes you in.

The dress draped over your body is glitzy and glamorous, something much different than your usual professional skirts and sedate dresses. It’s blood-red and slathered in a layer of shimmering sequins that catch the light with every movement. Your breasts are tastefully on display with the deep sweetheart neckline and the slit along the side shows off one shapely leg. The thin-strapped dress is clingy, offering the necessary support to give you the dreamiest silhouette. Paired with your favorite pair of black pumps, you look ready to walk a red carpet.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Playboy,” you remark, leaning in to accept Tony’s hug and his chaste kiss against your soft cheek.

“We make a pretty snazzy pair,” he announces proudly as he takes your arm in his. “Every man here tonight is gonna be so jealous.”

You can’t help laughing at Tony’s cocky observation. “Oh, stop it. They’re all already jealous of you.”

Tony chuckles at your joking tone, reaching across with his free hand to lightly tickle your side. You playfully swat at his chest, demanding that he behave himself as he helps you up the steps, escorting you to the front door. You pass several faces that you don’t recognize, though you still greet them each with a warm smile. As you make your way into the foyer, you can’t help but marvel at the interior of the beautiful home; astoundingly tall ceilings, pristinely waxed marble floors, grand decorations in shiny shades of silver and gold. If not for Tony’s steadfast hold on your arm, you may have tripped over your own feet taking it all in.

A suited man meets you near the entrance, sweeping his arm in a wide arc to lead you down a long hallway illuminated with decorative strings of lights. He walks the pair of you towards a set of double oak doors and swings them open to permit you entrance into an expansive room. A waiter approaches, silently offering fluted glasses from his silver tray. Music pumps from high-quality speakers, filling the room with a thrum low enough to still hold a conversation over. Voices mingle, adding to the din in the throng of party-goers.

The first person you spot is Natasha, her gorgeous red locks pinned effortlessly atop her head and her lithe body swaddled in a metallic gray gown that complements her skin tone perfectly. She catches sight of you as well, smiling sweetly with a wave and a tip of her champagne glass. You and Tony return the gesture in kind before Bruce comes over to get your attention. 

“Hey, kid…you look great,” he comments with a warm smile. “You too, Tone.”

You slip gently from Tony’s hold then, knowing that once he and Bruce get started on their tech-centric science-y talk, it would take an atomic bomb to separate them. With a whispered word to Tony letting him know that you’re off to go mingle, you delve into the crowded room. After only a few sips of alcohol, you place your glass on an empty table. You’ll have a drink when the clock strikes midnight, otherwise you need to refrain if you have any hope of driving home safely.

You’re surprised when you find Thor seated in a plush armchair, engaged deeply in conversation with a beautiful brunette woman. It’s rare to see him at parties like this and even more rare to see him quite so dressed up. His black button-down fits him snugly on account of his bulging arms and chest, and you can’t help worrying that one wrong move may send the straining buttons flying across the room. Thor’s blue eyes meet yours and he nods in acknowledgment when you wave shyly at him.

As you make your way around the room, you realize you don’t recognize most of the guests here. You stop here and there, engaging in polite conversation with several men and women who you find standing alone. Eventually, your feet begin to protest the uncomfortable choice of footwear you’ve made and you move to the center of the room where you settle on a buttery leather couch. 

Before long, a young woman joins you, sharing with you her misery of not knowing a single person here aside from her boyfriend who has already had far too much to drink. You commiserate for a moment and share a pleasant conversation until the sound of the heavy wooden doors catches your attention and you instinctively turn your head to see the guest who is entering.

You recognize the spiky and obviously dyed black hair immediately. Hawke Devins. A man whose pretentious name perfectly suits his horrendous, douchebag personality. He’s someone you’d had a brief fling with last year; a relationship spanning only a few months before it died its ferocious, fiery death. The very sight of him has bile rising in your throat and panic constricting your chest. Beside you, your young companion prattles on, though you can’t hear a word she says over the thunderous buzzing in your ears as you try not to have a full-blown anxiety attack.

Things with Hawke had started off nice enough, but very quickly it got weird. Boundaries had been crossed, your wishes flagrantly ignored as you were pressured into things far outside your comfort zone. To say the least, Hawke’s treatment had left you with enough physical and emotional damage to consider filing a restraining order. The only reason you haven't yet is because of who he is. A rich and powerful businessman; a trust fund baby whose daddy would bury you alive if you ever even considered coming forward about what transpired or dared to besmirch his son’s impeccable reputation. Plus, you know it’s hard enough for women to be believed and someone like Hawke would never allow his lucrative career to be ruined by allegations of sexual assault, especially not from someone as insignificant as you.

So you were forced to swallow the memories of your trauma, keeping them buried deep inside. You’d hoped to keep it all to yourself…something you’d take to the grave, but — ever the perceptive protector — Tony had caught on that something wasn’t quite right with you. After much prodding, he’d finally convinced you to entrust him with the truth. The misplaced shame you felt had kept you from confiding in anyone, but you have to admit how good it felt to get it off your chest after the months you spent letting it eat away at you. 

Still, no matter how much he implored you to reveal your tormentor’s identity, you refused to give that up. You’d hold onto that information with a deathly grip if it meant saving Tony from doing something incredibly stupid with it, like finding the man or killing him. Tony’s reputation isn’t worth losing over some entitled billionaire asshole.

As Hawke glides further into the room, you become dizzy with fear. Your hands shake and your heart races. You don’t want him to recognize you or speak to you, so you excuse yourself from the conversation — one which you mentally checked out of minutes ago — and rise from the couch to circle the perimeter of the room. Making sure to keep your back turned towards him, you obscure yourself behind the larger groups in the room in order to stay out of Hawke’s line of sight. Eyes scan the crowded room for a place to hide that won’t bring anyone’s attention to your shaken state.

In the corner of the room is an ornately carved bar and you’re surprised to find Bucky stood behind it. You had no idea he would even be here tonight, let alone playing barkeep. His outfit is much more casual than the rest of the fancily-clad people in the room. He wears a white polo shirt, the collar just barely peeking over the sleek black blazer that hugs his wide shoulders. His hair is much shorter than it was when you last saw him; swept back and looking soft as ever.

When you spot a young man with a sour look on his face, dressed similarly to the other waiters in the room, you can guess that Bucky had relieved him of his duties for his own purposes. Knowing Barnes isn’t much of a social guy or a mingler, you figure that’s why he’s chosen to assign himself the job of bartender; mixing drinks and whipping up cocktails is an easier task than talking, you suppose. It’s interesting to you to learn Bucky even has the skills to do so, but you can’t really say you’re shocked; the reclusive man possesses a wide range of well-honed skills that most people wouldn’t expect.

“Keeping yourself busy back here, huh?” you say as a means of greeting, tucking your body behind the bar with Bucky.

“Uh…yeah, I guess,” he stutters, not expecting your presence or your words.

Bucky knows something is up. You rarely ever speak to him and it’s out of character for you to be doing anything other than avoiding him. He’s used to people being intimidated by him, on account of his dark, quiet demeanor and the sheer size of him, however it’s been obvious since the day you met that you don’t particularly like him. Admittedly, you’re not exactly his favorite person either. Not that he wants or expects to be friends with everyone, but you could stand to at least be more civil with him.

The tension in Bucky’s broad shoulders gives away his discomfort. He’s not shy by any means, just reserved and solitary, but his body language is conveying the apprehension he feels as you stand behind him. You watch as he pours drink after drink, the steel of his left hand rattling against the metal cocktail shaker. Desperately attempting to appear cool, calm, and collected, you hope it’s not obvious that you’re distracted by the man across the room. 

Bucky makes no effort to converse with you, though that suits you just fine. You’re not here to make friends with him. You can’t deny your typical coldness towards him makes this interaction a bit awkward, but you’re aware of his imposing and threatening appearance so you’re here because — as much as you may not care for him — something about Bucky makes you feel safe. You know he can protect you should the need arise.

As you watch on in silence while he works, Bucky confirms to himself that you’re not here to socialize. He thought maybe you were drunk and the alcohol had loosened you up enough to be affable, but he knows you’re not intoxicated; he hasn’t seen you drink more than a few sips of champagne and he hasn’t made you a single drink tonight. Not that he’s paying attention or anything. Running his fingers through his recently cut hair, he leans against the back of the bar and waits for the next guest to order a drink.

When he spots movement from the corner of his eye, he looks your way as subtly as possible. He sees the nervous way you wring your hands and when he turns to look more directly at you, he notes how your eyes flick frantically around the room like a trapped animal. Now he’s fully on alert. You look so small and timid, something that’s extremely unusual for you. It seems like you’re about to burst into tears and that twists something unfamiliar in his chest. Remembering his instinct from earlier, Bucky realizes something isn’t just “up”, something is wrong.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he wonders softly, trying to keep his voice calm and casual so as to distract you from whatever has you so worked up.

The sound of Bucky’s voice spooks you and you unleash a tiny, frightened gasp as you turn towards him. He wonders why you’re so jumpy, but he fears if he outright asks, you will actually start crying. Instead, he offers a kind smile and waits patiently for your response, taking notice of the way your widened eyes repeatedly drift towards one specific party-goer.

“Oh, yeah sure. I’m fine. I mean, it’s good…yeah,” you stutter. “Sorry. I’m having a g-good time.”

His heart clenches at the panicky sound of your words. He wants to help you, to take away whatever is scaring you, but he fears bringing attention to it will only make things worse.

“How much you wanna bet Tony gets shit-faced and makes an ass of himself before midnight?” Bucky jokes.

The words feel strained and awkward, but he’s positive you don’t even notice. Bucky slowly scoots closer to you — playing it off as if he’s just readjusting his stance — hoping his proximity will calm you a bit. You don’t even notice the slight movement, your eyes busy sweeping rapidly through the room, looking for anything else to focus on.

Suddenly, you wish you had taken Tony up on his offer for a chauffeur. At least that way you could also be getting shit-faced instead of standing here, well on your way to shivering right out of your own shoes. But no, of course you had to be your stubborn self and turn him down. Now you’re having to intentionally not imbibe just so you can drive later. Perhaps you can find someone to give you a ride home, but at this point you don’t even care about getting drunk; you just want to leave. As much as you wish you could stay and welcome the new year with your friends and coworkers, if you remain in this room a moment longer, you’re liable to spiral straight into a meltdown.

When Hawke joins in on a raucous game of beer pong with Bruce and Steve, you decide it’s the perfect opportunity to make your escape. Except you can’t seem to get your body to cooperate. Your feet remain rooted to the spot and your quaking legs refuse to move. Unable to control yourself, you begin breathing heavily as panic takes over. Bucky spots your distress and gently touches your elbow, leaning in to get your attention.

“Hey,” he coos with worry.

You flinch at the contact and the warmth of his whispered words drifting over your neck. “I’m...uh, I’m pretty tired. I think I’m gonna head out,” you announce, trying to laugh off the alarm coursing through you and the moisture glistening in your eyes. “Happy New Year, Buck.”

“Yeah, you too,” he mutters as you brush past him, stumbling towards the exit.

Bucky feels the overwhelming urge to come along and make sure you’re safe, but he doesn’t want to be intrusive or overbearing. It’s not as if you’re unsafe here anyway, so he allows you to leave on your own, his cerulean eyes glued to your back as you slip away out of the room. If you needed help, you’d have asked, wouldn’t you? He doesn’t have much time to think about it when a pair of women sidle up to order a long list of beverages for their group of friends. His mind lingers on you as he prepares a line of cocktails.

When another swarm of guests approach the bar, Bucky is no longer paying attention to anything around him. But as he glances up to read the red lips of the drunken woman who requests her fourth martini of the evening, his eyes snap to the man you couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off of. He watches as the suspicious man excuses himself from the beer pong game he’s in the middle of and heads for the doors you left through only minutes ago. 

His veins prickle with inexplicable hostility; he can’t determine the reason for your preoccupation or why this man rubs him the wrong way, all he knows is that he doesn’t care for him one bit. Every protective instinct he has kicks in. He’s on the move in an instant, ignoring the slurring woman who calls after him. Bucky’s long legs take swift and aggressive strides as he fights the crowd and struggles to keep eyes on the man who he suspects is following you.

The clicking of your heels echoes in the empty foyer as you head towards the front door, which is swung open by the suited man from earlier. You offer a forced smile, willing your legs not to give out in front of the unsuspecting man.

“Goodnight, miss,” he drawls.

“‘Night.”

You wrap your arms around yourself to fight the slight chill that has seeped into the late-night air. The sound of your steps is quieter out here, swallowed up by the openness of the broad landscape. As you approach the valet, he greets you and asks for your name in order to fetch your vehicle. You provide him that information, but request the keys and insist that you’ll find your own car. He tries to argue, though you push the matter and assure him that you could use the fresh air.

With your keys in hand, you focus on each step you take, counting every stride to fend off the wave of panic that still fights to take over. In your head, you keep reminding yourself to listen to the sounds of your clacking shoes, to pay attention to your breaths as you try to calm them. Reaching the fleet of sleek black vehicles and boldly painted sports cars, you begin searching for the one with the Stark Industries plate. Thankfully, you remember the plate number too, in case more than one car here belongs to Tony.

You locate your car after a few minutes and click the fob, relieved when the headlights blink twice and confirm that it’s yours. Before you can reach for the handle of the door, you hear footsteps approaching. Assuming it’s the valet coming to check on you or perhaps Tony wondering why you’ve left the party early, you turn around. All you’re met with is the sharp, pointed features of Hawke’s distressing face.

Inside, Bucky practically sprints down an empty hallway in search of the man who has escaped him. He finds no signs of him anywhere, not even in the bathroom or any of the other empty rooms he passes. As he skids to a halt at the front door, he inquires with the man there to see if the person he’s after has left the party. After receiving that confirmation, Bucky wrenches the door open and heads outside. He asks the valet the same question, his heart beating wildly with anger as he closes in on the mystery man’s location.

Jogging jauntily down the steps, Bucky spots two people amongst the sea of cars parked in the driveway. His gut tells him that it’s you and he picks up speed. The first thing he notices is the way the man has you cornered where you stand against the door of a vehicle — clearly upset and shaken; a hand wrapped around one of your small wrists. Something about the way he holds you — in a grip that is so obviously painful — tells Bucky it’s not the first time he’s put his hands on you. That fact alone has Bucky seeing red. He’s already far beyond displeased with whoever this man is, but the fact that he dares to touch you is too much for him to handle; at least not calmly.

Bucky doesn’t say a word or do much of anything to announce his arrival, he merely approaches stealthily and punches Hawke in the face with incredible force, sending him sprawling across the stone drive. You’re astonished by Bucky’s display of violence, though you feel no sympathy for the man who writhes on the ground; he deserves much worse. Regardless, you’re relieved that Bucky had used the less deadly of his fists to hit Hawke rather than the vibranium one which surely would have killed the man. A murder charge is a terrible way to end a year.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks, holding his palms towards you in a non-threatening gesture.

“I-I don’t know, I think so,” you whisper tearfully.

Just then, Tony appears from nowhere. He looks from your crying face, to Bucky’s enraged one, and then down to the man groaning in pain on the ground. You sniffle as you choke back a sob and Bucky turns to Tony, not an ounce of guilt or remorse in his expression.

“What the hell is going on here?” Tony demands.

“I was taking care of this fucking creep,” Bucky barks with agitation dripping from his words. “I don’t know who he is or what he did, but he’s got her scared to death.”

Tony lifts his gentle eyes to yours when Bucky gestures in your direction. You see the question shining in his eyes before he even asks it, hoping he sees the answer in yours and doesn’t. With tears trickling down your cheeks, you shake your head so slightly he almost doesn’t see it. As ever, Tony is too observant and intelligent for his own good, though it works out in your favor this time. He easily puts the pieces together, seeing your reaction and remembering how you’d described the man who assaulted you; you’d assured Tony whoever it was would be far too indomitable for you to ever get the justice you deserve.

“Oh, honey,” he breathes, lifting a hand to offer some sort of comfort before letting it drop unsurely back to his side.

“Give me your keys,” Bucky demands. “I’m taking you home.”

The words are rough and demanding, but you’re too emotionally exhausted to argue with him. Tony walks you to the passenger’s side of the car, a soothing hand along your spine. He opens the door and lets you climb inside before bracing an arm against the frame of the vehicle to lean in and squeeze your hand reassuringly.

“We’ll talk soon,” he offers kindly with a soft smile.

Tony slams your door shut moments before Bucky climbs behind the steering wheel and closes his own. He fiddles with the seat, aggressively sliding it back to accommodate his long legs and massive body. The tires squeal as he races out of the driveway and onto the dimly lit street, your body shifting limply as he takes the turn with more speed than necessary. 

The first few minutes are tense and uncomfortably hushed, but you don’t have the energy to hold a conversation anyway. As the adrenaline wears off and the emotions of the night set in, you begin to shiver where you sit. Tears fill your eyes, though you try your best to fight them off as you wrap your arms protectively around your stiff body. Bucky seems to notice and with only his knees controlling the wheel, he wrenches the jacket from his body and holds it out to you. With the tiniest little peep, you thank him and take the proffered coat. You wrap the garment around your own shoulders, basking in the warmth and the comforting scent of Bucky’s cologne.

“Who was that guy? Did he do something to you?”

The seething rage in his voice frightens you and you’re terrified to answer. You know Bucky is trying to help, but his anger is doing the opposite. Though it isn’t directed at you, you can’t help feeling like it’s your fault. The more you blame yourself for this whole thing and Bucky’s rage, the more you begin to work yourself up again. Bucky’s head whips around in your direction when you remain silent, but when he sees the fresh tears that stream down your cheeks, it soothes the beast seething inside of him.

“Did he hurt you?”

His words are calmer now, but the wrath behind them still remains. The small sob you emit answers Bucky’s question for you and he knows he doesn’t need to pry any further; he doesn’t need a single detail more. He would hate to make you uncomfortable and it’s obvious you don’t want to discuss the upsetting subject. A weary hand drags over his pinched features as he carefully considers his next words.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Bucky murmurs, his hands holding the steering wheel with crushing force.

Aside from the few softly-spoken directions you give, the rest of the ride home is completely silent. When Bucky pulls into your driveway you’re quick to exit the car and take a deep, cleansing inhale of the cool air outside. You steady yourself as he climbs out as well, meeting you at the fender to walk you to the door. It’s not necessary, but you appreciate his chivalry nonetheless. You reach your front door and you fumble with your keys; not because your hands are shaking, but because you’re stalling. Because you’re not sure how to proceed with the words that hover on your tongue.

“I can stay…if you want,” Bucky suggests.

You’re nervous to ask that of him, especially considering your somewhat rocky history of general unfriendliness, but you want to feel safe. You need to. And you know without a doubt that Bucky can and will provide. There’s no real threat to your safety as far as you know, however, the dredging up of your traumatic past has you feeling a bit cagey and on edge.

“You can stay,” you affirm before correcting yourself. “I mean…can you? Please.”

Not wanting Bucky to feel as though he’s intruding, you make sure he knows that you’re asking. You’re not just letting him stay, you want him to. So you ask that of him, requesting his presence and not even knowing that he’s never going to leave.

You toss and turn under your silky sheets, too wired to even think about falling asleep. Glancing at the little silver antique clock on your bedside table, you see that it’s just past 11:30. You suppose you may as well stay up, anyway; at least you can welcome the new year, not that you care much about it anymore. Your phone vibrates beside you and you squint to see Tony’s name across the screen.

Make it home safely?

Quickly you tap out a response, letting Tony know that you’re okay and thanking him for his concern. As a follow up, you send a second message letting him know that you’re aware you need to speak to him the next time you’re in the office. You don’t want him to think you’re avoiding him, especially since there’s no getting away from the man’s relentless concern over your well-being.

Between the jarring events of the night and the thought that Bucky is just outside your room, asleep on your couch, you can’t imagine you’ll be getting any rest tonight. Wondering if Bucky is having just as much trouble finding slumber, you climb out from under your blankets and fix your rumpled tank top and sleep shorts to go check on him.

The floor creaks beneath your bare feet, but Bucky’s eyes are already fixed on the empty doorway before you even make a sound or step into his line of sight. You should have figured he heard you the second you stepped foot out of your bed. It shouldn’t be a surprise that you find him sitting up in the dark room; the serum pumping through his body makes it so he doesn’t need much rest and even if that weren’t the case, he’d be up all night anyway, keeping watch over you.

You feel safe with Bucky being here, but you know you’ll feel even safer if you’re closer to him. With that in mind, you cross the living room to join him on the couch. You don’t tell him you can’t sleep and he doesn’t ask. A long, comfortable silence stretches between you as you shift at his side, tucking your legs under yourself until you’re settled into an agreeable position. Pulling a blanket over your bent legs, you shove your arm beneath it too and wordlessly offer a bit of the corner to Bucky, though he declines.

“Tony texted. Wanted to make sure you’re doing okay,” Bucky murmurs, breaking the quietude between you.

“Yeah, I know,” you respond with a soft exhale over the man’s heartwarming worry. “He texted me too. I told him we’re good.”

Bucky doesn’t miss the way you say “we” and his lips lift in a secret smile. He lets the room fall silent again, enjoying the stillness that surrounds you both.

“Wanna watch the ball drop?” you suggest.

Bucky turns your way, the beginnings of a smirk lifting his plush lips. “Might as well, right?” he laughs.

Locating the remote, you switch the television on and bathe the room in a bright, blue light. It reflects hauntingly in Bucky’s clear eyes, though you do your best not to stare at him for too long. The way you reposition yourself is subtle, but it’s obvious to Bucky when he starts to feel the pleasant warmth that radiates off of your swaddled body. You watch on as the announcer on the screen interviews various members of the crowd; all clad in their hats and gloves, their smiling cheeks exposed to the biting cold and their eyes shining with excitement.

As the countdown grows near, it’s Bucky who moves closer this time. Your shoulders brush, the length of your forearms just barely touching. The heat of his body is nice, so comforting in fact that you find your eyes fluttering with the creeping tiredness that’s suddenly taking over. The energy in the crowd is growing and the anticipation is palpable. When the chorus of voices begins chanting the ever-dwindling numbers, you feel the urge to do something you never thought you’d dare to do.

Three…

Your eyes turn to Bucky, taking in his beautiful profile. His sculpted features softened in the colorful glow emitting from the television.

Two…

Your hand moves of its own accord, reaching for the edge of Bucky’s jaw as your fingers wrap gently up and around his stubbled cheek.

One…

You’re leaning over, craning your neck to reach him as you pull his face towards yours. Bucky’s soft lips meet yours eagerly, pressing with gentle force against your mouth. You remain still for a lengthy moment before easing away, though Bucky won’t allow it. His hand comes up to brace against the back of your head, holding you in place as he peppers your mouth with several slow, sensual kisses. His tongue sweeps along your lower lip and then he’s gone, pulling away to look down at you.

“Happy New Year, doll,” he purrs with a smile that could set you on fire.

“Happy New Year, Buck,” you respond breathlessly.

When you wake, it’s with a stiff neck and upon an extremely warm pillow. Given that Bucky’s normal temperature is that of a furnace, you’d discarded your blanket at some point during the night. The heat of the heavy arm wrapped around your shoulders is starting to make you sweat and the awkward half-prone position you’re in is killing your back. 

With a groan, you shift in Bucky’s hold, suddenly remembering that you’d fallen asleep sitting up, with your head leaning on his shoulder. At some point, he’d tipped slightly to the side and you ended up in some sort of vertical-horizontal limbo. As you jostle Bucky awake, he unleashes an equally pained sound. His blue eyes ease open slowly, seemingly taking a moment to figure out his surroundings.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you rasp, scooting away to give the large man room to stretch his bulky limbs.

“Is it?” he questions, squinting one eye at the watch around his wrist. “Shit, I guess it is.”

Bucky sits up slowly, his chestnut hair an adorable mess, sticking up in all directions. You can’t help laughing at him and he rolls his eyes, bashfully running his hands through the short tresses to tame it a bit. Before you have a chance to say another word, the sound of your doorbell chimes, breaking the early morning silence. Bucky’s muscles bunch when he tenses at the sound and he immediately rises from the couch with a scowl on his face before you stop him and assure him you can get it.

Making your way to the door you hear Bucky treading close behind, just like you expected he would be. You have no idea who would come calling at this hour. As you turn the deadbolt and open the door, your stomach drops. Before you stands Hawke, looking roughed-up and disheveled with the shadow of a purple bruise circling his badly swollen eye. Even with Bucky standing just out of sight of the open doorway, you can’t help the urge to flee that wracks your body. 

Swallowing the customary rising bile that accompanies the sight of him, you step forward to slam the door in Hawke’s face before he can say a word. Only he prevents that when he enters the threshold to wedge a loafer-clad foot in the way as he slaps an open palm on the surface of the door. That’s all it takes for Bucky to spring into action. He moves you gently aside, safely out of his way so that he can grab hold of Hawke’s rumpled suit. He easily lifts the man clear off his feet and gives him a violent shake.

“Bucky…neighbors,” you warn before he can do anything unsavory.

It won’t do anyone any good for Nosey Nancy across the street to get an eyeful of Bucky’s brutality first thing in the morning. He heeds your warning, dragging Hawke’s body through the doorway to smash him against the nearest wall.

“I am going to tell you this once…and you should consider yourself lucky that you’re getting that much,” Bucky growls. “Do not come here again. Don’t come near her. Don’t try to contact her. Don't even think about her. Or I will fucking end you. Now get out of here before I give you a matching black eye.”

With that, Bucky kicks the door open and shoves Hawke out, sending him tumbling to the ground. The door slams shut so hard that your whole house rattles. A shaky sigh parts your lips and Bucky gives you a sympathetic smile, gathering you into his arms. You return his hug, thanking him and squeezing him with all your strength.

It’s been a year since you’ve seen or heard from Hawke. Though with Bucky around all the time, you’ve hardly thought of him even once. Your time has been filled with the beefy super-soldier; between work and leisure, you can’t seem to get enough of each other. Much to everyone’s surprise — and joy — you’re getting along better than they ever thought possible and they couldn’t be happier for you. Or for Bucky. There isn’t a single person at Stark Industries who isn’t elated to see him finally have what he deserves. Not to mention how relieved they all are that his grumpy and brooding moods have improved, if not disappeared altogether.

“Never seen that boy smile so much in his whole life,” Steve mutters over your shoulder one day as he watches you work on a research project.

“Me neither,” you agree.

“You’ve never seen him smile so much or you’ve never smiled so much?” he implores.

“Both,” you assure with a smile, spinning in your chair to see Steve’s inevitable disgust.

He doesn’t disappoint, crossing his eyes and imitating a stomach-churning heave as he holds his chest with feigned agony. Natasha glides past, loudly slapping the buff blonde on the back with a demand to grow up and “leave the lovebirds alone”. You smile even more brightly at her words. Love.

You kept your involvement a secret as long as you could, but Bucky hated having to sneak around all the time. He has an insatiable need to be near you, to touch you, to hold you, to be affectionate. You’d managed about one whole month of privacy before he could stand it no longer and begged you to tell everyone about your relationship. The revelation had made things much easier, admittedly; the stress of hiding things is something you don’t miss one bit.

As you finish up your work and reorganize a stack of folders, you hear the muffled sound of Bucky’s voice as Natasha stops him to speak just outside your office. When he peeks his head in the doorway, you can’t help the excited smirk that lifts your lips. He matches the thrilled expression on your face as he struts over, leaning over your desk to lay a loving kiss on your lips.

“Hi, doll,” he greets warmly. “You ready to get outta here?”

Nodding in agreement, you gather your belongings and take Bucky’s hand, allowing him to lead you down the hall to the elevator. He asks about your day, listening to you rattle off each and every detail on the drive home, eating up the stories you tell with rapt interest. When you reach your house and ease the front door open, you’re reminded of how much more it feels like a home. With little touches of Bucky here and there since he’s moved in, the space just feels so much warmer and more cozy. Like he was the missing piece all along.

“So, what are your plans for tonight?” Bucky asks, dropping heavily onto the couch.

“Hmm, well Tony invited us to his party,” you remind him. “New Year’s is always a big thing with him.”

Bucky laughs, knowing that Tony tends to go over the top with all of his celebrations simply because he can. He taps a single finger against his lower lip as if he’s deeply considering something. You watch him for a long moment, wondering what he’s up to before you have to ask. 

“What if we celebrate here tonight? Just us,” he offers shyly.

You smile to yourself, knowing the motive behind his suggestion. Bucky has been bugging you for days about this night; insisting that it isn’t just a holiday, but your anniversary as well. Though it had taken a few weeks of hanging out and spending time together for Bucky to officially ask you to be his girlfriend, he assures you he had considered you his since the moment you kissed.

“Which makes New Year’s our anniversary,” he had whined petulantly. And who are you to argue with the adorably persistent man? You find it nearly impossible to not give him everything he wants. Besides, you’ll take a night with your man over a swanky party any day.

The glass of wine you cradle sloshes slightly as you bring it to your lips. You stand in the dark living room, dressed only in one of Bucky’s oversized t-shirts as you watch this year’s ball drop ceremony. Bucky rustles around in the kitchen, getting his own drink so you can toast to the new year in exactly 47 seconds. Taking another sip, you hear Bucky enter the room finally. He comes up behind you, wrapping a cold, steel arm around your waist as he cradles you against his hard body. His warmth seeps into you and you hum contentedly. Bucky’s hold gets tighter and tighter as midnight swiftly approaches, less than ten seconds away.

You hear Bucky’s deep, shaky inhale moment’s before the ball drops. When the crowd shouts “one!” in unison, he shifts behind you, pulling away just slightly and leaving an emptiness when he robs you of his heat. At the raucous utterance of “Happy New Year!” you notice something out of the corner of your eye. You completely miss what’s happening with the shiny ball on the screen in front of you because you’re too distracted by the glittering diamond ring Bucky holds out for you. The magnificent jewel sits nestled in a velvet box, shining grandly in the low-light and begging to be admired.

Had Bucky’s vibranium arm not still been curled around your midsection, your knees surely would have given out. You sway slightly, your back bumping his chest as he chuckles nervously and pulls you in close again. Lifting a hand to your face, you cover your gaping mouth as joyous tears drip from your lashes. Bucky presses a long, soft kiss to the side of your neck before his lips drift to the shell of your ear where his whispered words are hot and sweet.

“Happy New Year, my love. Whaddya say we make it the best one yet?”

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

[loving-bucky-is-easier]

deadweight

leave what's heavy, what's heavy behind • one

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 12.6K (I know, I’m sorry)

Summary:

His heart dropped clear through his stomach when he saw her. Strapped to a chair in the far corner of the room that hadn’t quite been visible from his spot on the wall, head lolling to the side, a small pool of blood forming at her feet. Bloodied wrists and ankles held fast with shackles to the arms and legs of the chair. Her face so ghostly pale it was almost translucent.

Warnings: 18+, graphic descriptions of violence and torture (like seriously, very graphic stuff), whump, language, angst, sexual innuendo, playing around a bit with the mechanics of Bucky’s arm (is that worth a warning?), my limited medical knowledge, fluff

Minors--this is not for you. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Please be discerning. Do not interact.

Prompt: I chose this prompt from @wkemeup ‘s #kas9kwc 9K Celebration. Angst #1 - Character A cleans Character B’s wounds after a rough mission. [A]’s fingers linger over scarred muscle as they finish wrapping the bandage.

A/N: A little bit later than I’d hoped, but here it is! This is the first fic I’ve shared, on this platform or otherwise. Hope y’all enjoy! Feedback is welcome and appreciated. Special thanks to @wkemeup for providing the occasion, and to @wkemeup-fics / @tuiccim / @revengingbarnes / @mareli-carter / @gogolucky13 / @buckysbabygorl / @constantwriter85 (in no particular order) for inspiring me to take the leap.

Edit: This reader is white-coded in both this piece and it's sequel, in that she blushes pink or red when flustered or embarrassed. This trait is mentioned multiple times by both the reader and other characters. This was an oversight on my part when writing, and I've done my best to ensure that all fics written since have avoided traits like this.

“How much longer?”

You huffed a bit, fingers tapping intermittently over the keys of the computer in front of you. You bit back a couple of choice words as you addressed the impatient super soldier standing watch behind you.

“Buck, do you have any idea how many layers of programming I’m working through right now?”

“No,” he challenged, which was true.

“Well, grandpa. Let’s just say this amounts to Olympic levels of badassery.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky muttered, bristling at the nickname.

“Fuck me, yourself,” you whispered under your breath.

You heard the super soldier choke behind you.

Fuck. You’d forgotten about that pesky enhanced hearing. You resisted the urge to turn and see his full reaction, knowing that the flush that had painted its way across your cheeks would quickly betray how little you were joking.

.....

“I thought you were coming with me.” You grimaced at how whiny you sounded, but if Steve noticed he didn’t react.

“Look, Y/N, I’m sorry. I was. But now they need me to deal with some political garbage. PR shit. And while Buck and I can fill the same role on pretty much any combat op, public relations is not where he should be.”

You winced. If Steve was cursing, even a little bit, you knew he was stressed, and you were adding to it. He had never signed up to be the mediator between a ragtag crew of oddities in spandex and the cold, dark suits of federal government. And he was right. The Star-Spangled Man with a plan held a hell of a lot more favor than a certain rehabilitated ex-Hydra asset. Still...

“Isn’t there anyone else?”

“Sam just got back yesterday. He’s beat. Really, Y/N, Buck is the best one for this. We need to keep this small. Under the radar. In and out. You know he can do exactly that.”

You sighed. Yes, you did know that. You knew all too well how capable Bucky Barnes was. He was the perfect one for this op. This very small op, where the two of you would be alone. Together.

“And you really need me for this? I’m not the only one who can handle tech. Nat can...” You trailed off as you saw Steve getting more frustrated, his jaw clenching and his piercing blue eyes hardening. He started to say something, when Nat spoke up from the corner of the room. The redhead was perched on a desk, legs crossed and a smile tugging at her lips.

“First of all, you are the only one who can handle this tech. Yes, I can get through firewalls and encryptions, but I can’t reprogram all of that. Second--” she shrugged up her left shoulder, which was still in a sling from her last mission-- “this is a low-profile op, but there will definitely be combat. And I’m not a whole lot of use with this thing.”

You doubted that very much. Natasha could probably take down a whole squadron with both hands tied behind her back, all without smudging her lipstick. But, she did have a point.

“But--”

“Y/N,” Steve said sharply, his voice low. “What the hell is the problem? This is a simple two-person op. A once-in-a-blue-moon opportunity to corrupt a massive stock of Hydra weaponry and save ourselves a lot of trouble in the long run. It’s an easy pick. You and Buck.” He rose from his seat across from you, fingers carding through his hair, voice rising with every word. “I know Bucky has a rough past, but I never thought that you of all people would hold that against him. You never seem to have a problem with him around here!”

“I don’t, it’s just--”

“If you can trust me, take my word that you can trust him--”

“I do! I trust you both. I just can’t--”

“Can’t what? This is such an obvious choice. Why can’t you just--”

“You like him.” Your head whipped to the source of this last quip. Natasha had risen from her perch, arms crossed, a smirk splayed across her face.

“What?” you choked, pink flushing across your cheeks. “No, I--I don’t know what you’re--butt the fuck out, Nat!”

Steve’s gaze darted back and forth between the grinning redhead and you, as you sunk further into your chair. The room was silent for a moment, until he planted both hands on the table between you, his stare boring into you.

“You like Bucky?”

Arms crossed protectively in front of you, you didn’t dare look at him as you stammered out a “N--no, I don’t.”

Steve snorted, and you glanced up to see his face break into a shit-eating grin.

“Well, damn, Y/N. For a super spy, you’re a terrible liar.” Except you weren’t. Unless a certain super soldier with a metal arm was involved. Then, much like now, your mind turned to mush and your face betrayed you, unable to hide the pinks and reds painting your cheeks.

“I just don’t think we’re the right fit for this,” was all you could manage.

Nat chuckled. “On the contrary, I think this is a wonderful opportunity for you two to get comfortable working together. High stakes, but probably low engagement. You have to learn sometime, don’t you?”

You looked to Steve, pleading with him to understand, and were instead met with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. He winked at you, and you groaned.

“Besides,” Nat continued, “we set up a brand new safe house for you two to hole up in for extraction after you’re done. You guys will get the chance to christen it properly.”

Steve cackled at this, and you considered crawling under the table, the flush on your cheeks deepening to a fire-engine red and creeping across your ears.

.....

That same reddish tint had once again taken up residence along the tops of your ears as you sat at the keyboard in the Hydra compound, thoughts far from the task at hand, instead picking apart every minute detail of that mortifying interaction.

We’re friends. Friends banter. He knows that. Does he know that? He should know that. He was just surprised. It didn’t mean anyth--

Y/N. The more responsible part of your brain cut in. You are destroying Hydra weaponry while seated precariously inside one of their bases, in a room with three different entrances that could each welcome in hostiles at any given moment. You have your life, Bucky’s life, and the lives of thousands of potential victims of Hydra quite literally clutched in your fingertips. For the love of all that is holy, get your fucking head out of your ass.

Still, you couldn’t help but shoot a glance over your shoulder at the soldier posted behind you. He had his back to you, head on a swivel between the three doors. You couldn’t see his face, but his shoulders had tensed up closer to his ears, and he fiddled absentmindedly with the plates on his metal forearm.

Shit. You had made him uncomfortable. You mentally cursed Steve and Nat for putting you here, all the while knowing it wasn’t really their fault. You weren’t ever going to make a move anyways, so you might as well seal your fate here. Scare him off entirely, and move on with your life.

Fingers flew across the keyboard again. You needed to do at least one thing right today.

.....

Bucky couldn’t help but fidget as he stood with his back to Y/N, eyeing each of the doors intermittently, tensed and waiting to rain down hell on anyone who dared threaten the pretty girl behind him.

He gritted his teeth, rubbing a hand down his face. There were too many weaknesses to his position. Three fucking doors. How was he supposed to cover three doors at once? And of course, his biggest weakness was in the room, too.

Bucky cringed. Had he actually just thought that? You’re losing it, Barnes. This is a coworker. Important, yes. But don’t you dare reduce her to a damsel in need of your protection. She wasn’t. He knew she wasn’t. Bucky had witnessed it firsthand when they sparred as she even took him down once. Granted, he had been a bit flustered by her pinning him to the ground, thighs straddling his hips, but still. She was powerful and brilliant and so, so kind to him.

And here she had to go and make that comment. Bucky guessed he hadn’t been meant to hear it, but that didn’t stop his heart from fluttering, his face from flushing, his shoulders tensing. Because, oh, how he wished she would let him. He just wouldn’t dare ask.

Bucky flinched, drawn out of his reverie, as Y/N let out a satisfied huff and the wheels of the chair skid to the side as she stood. He turned, watching with a grin he couldn’t smother as she shook her head to the side a bit, her little happy dance carrying down into her hips. She stepped backwards then, colliding into him with a yelp.

Instinctively, Bucky reached up to catch her, his hands finding her shoulders.

“Sorry!” she winced, turning to face him, head still bobbing a bit. “I just got a little caught up in the...that felt good.”

Bucky offered a soft smile. “Don’t be sorry. It was cute.”

At that, Y/N’s face flushed pink and she stilled. Her eyes bored into his as they both suddenly became aware that he was still holding her.

Idiot. He quickly dropped his hands. “Sorry, I--”

“No, it’s fine, I don't mind.” She chewed on the inside of her lip, eyes dropped for a moment, before she reached out and threaded her warm fingers through his metal ones.

Bucky’s breath hitched. Y/N had never been withholding when it came to physical contact, unlike almost everyone else in his life. He knew they didn’t mean it with malice; in fact, it was probably borne from concern. But Y/N was comfortable, casual. Shoulders brushing when they sat next to each other, fingers poking at his chest when she was too invested in some silly argument with him, elbows digging into his ribs when he threw her sarcasm right back at her.

But this was different. Intentional. Pre-meditated. Close. And very, very distracting.

Distracting enough that by the time Bucky had caught the smell of ozone lingering around him, it was too late. There was a click, and the world went black.

.....

Bucky wasn’t sure what woke him up first: the ringing in his ears, the throbbing in his skull, or the burning in his lungs. He wrenched his eyes open to see the room in shambles around him, obscured by the white spots waltzing through his vision. As he peeled himself up off the floor, he scanned the room. The explosion had ripped up into the ceiling, collapsing piles of cement around him, sparking little fires like clusters of poppies blooming around him. It had thrown him and Y/N--

Y/N. Bucky’s heart rate picked up as he scrambled through the piles of debris, her name tearing from his throat.

“Y/N! Y/N! Come on, talk to me, doll!” Bucky heard a groan from a few feet in front of him, and as his eyes caught on her, his heart dropped.

Y/N lay on the ground, blood dripping into her hair from a nasty gash on her forehead. Her tac suit was speckled with perforations, most of which were blooming red as well. But worst of all, he could only see half of her. Her left arm and leg disappeared under a pile of fallen ceiling.

Bucky sucked in a breath as he skidded to his knees next to her. His hands fluttered just above her, not sure what to do, not wanting to hurt her more than she already was. He settled for cupping a hand to her cheek, pushing a strand of blood-soaked hair out of her face.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open at the touch, locking with his. They filled with panic, and she started to struggle against the debris holding her down.

“Y/N. Y/N! Hey! Hey. You’re okay.” He gently pressed a hand to her right shoulder. “Don’t move, doll, you’re gonna make it worse.” She stilled at that, eyes still locked on his.

“Bucky, what--” Her eyes widened as she glanced down. “Shit! Are you okay?”

Bucky followed her eyes, and he was surprised to see a piece of metal the size of his hand lodged in his left thigh. It wasn’t deep, but it was definitely there. And he hadn’t even felt it in his panic to find her.

Bucky chuckled. “Y/N, sweetheart, I appreciate the concern. Really, I do. But what the fuck?” He probed a finger around the edge of the wound, then gave a small wince as he yanked the piece out in one go. He grabbed at the end of his pant leg and tore a strip off, tying it quickly around the injury without a second thought. He could already feel the edges beginning to knit themselves together, the serum in his veins fast at work.

She gaped at him, at how quickly and casually he had acted. “Look, just because you’re a super soldier doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you.”

Bucky smiled a bit at that, but it quickly dropped when he noticed how pale she was. He pursed his lips. “Thank you. And now that I am sufficiently triaged, we need to get you out of here.” Bucky gently wrapped his hands around her free knee and shoulder and gave a brief experimental tug.

The cry that wrenched itself from her lips stopped him cold.

“Fuck! Y/N, I’m so sorry! That was stupid, I--I mean I just hoped...” Bucky closed his eyes to hide the tears involuntarily springing into his eyes. She heaved out a shaky breath, her right hand reaching up to cup his cheek. He couldn’t help but lean into her touch.

“Bucky,” she whispered.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his eyes still closed.

“You have to leave me here.”

His eyes shot open at that, recoiling away from her, from the awful notion she had just suggested.

“I can’t move,” she continued. “You can’t move me. And you’re hurt, too. I don’t care how fast that serum works. I’m a liability, and you need to go.”

Tears fell in earnest now as he stared into her pleading eyes. “There is no way,” he choked, his voice shaking, “no way, in fucking hell, that I am leaving you here.”

“Buck--”

“Drop it, Y/N. Drop it right the fuck now.”

“But--” And she would have protested more, had he not collapsed without warning onto her already damaged ribs, his vision burning white. And then his consciousness faded entirely.

.....

It was all you could do not to let out a scream of pain as Bucky collapsed on top of you. Not that you could have, really, because the super soldier’s weight quite effectively knocked all of the air out of your lungs.

As you struggled to draw in breath, you watched in horror as Bucky seized, eyes rolling back in his head, muscles contracting involuntarily. Your eyes fell on the joint of his silver arm, which was at the moment held fast by a black metal bar pulsing with energy.

You followed the awful weapon up to the man wielding it. His brown eyes bore into you, the irises so dark they almost blended with his pupils. An ugly smirk danced across his pale lips, and his black gloved hand twisted the bar more firmly into Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky arched upwards involuntarily, dropping heavily back down on you, eliciting a sharp yelp from your throat. Brown Eyes’ face split into a wicked smile, and he held the bar there for a moment longer, before finally letting it drop. Bucky continued to twitch, his nerves still reeling, soundly unconscious.

“Well my dear,” Brown Eyes cooed. “Thank you for delivering our lovely little Soldat back to us.” He gestured flippantly behind him, and two soldiers dressed in black, chests stamped with the horrid red emblem of Hydra, lurched into your field of vision. Cruel hands grappled at Bucky’s form, hauling him up between them. You fumbled weakly for a grip on his vest, desperate not to lose him to this organization that you knew haunted him, but it was a struggle you had no chance of winning.

Bucky was whisked out of the room, and Brown Eyes took a step forward, kneeling next to you, a hand gripping the side of your face. Tears sprung into your eyes as he occupied the exact same position Bucky had only moments before, but where there had been concern and gentleness before, there was now only cruelty and calculation. The man squeezed your jaw harshly, forcing your gaze up to him, and you choked down a sob.

“As for you, we need to have a little conversation. Someone has been playing with things that don’t belong to her.” He flicked his hand again, rising to his feet as two more soldiers surged forward. They gripped harshly at your right thigh and shoulder and yanked hard.

Blessed darkness descended, cutting off wretched pain, before you even realized you were screaming.

.....

The walls were cement, fluorescent lights bouncing painfully off the pale grey and doubling the pounding in Bucky’s head. He squinted, trying to shake the spots from his eyes as he surveyed. A thick metal grate running floor to ceiling divided the room cleanly in half, dark metal bars crisscrossing to leave gaps that he could maybe fit his forearm through. He could see the outline of a door in the metal, reinforced and held fast with an electronic locking mechanism.

The other side of his half the room was empty, save for a shackle hanging from a chain on the wall and a pool of blood on the floor that looked far too fresh. Bucky shook any further consideration of that from his mind before it could take root—he needed to focus on what he could actually do something about now. He needed an exit.

Bucky clambered to his feet, intent on probing the cell door for any weakness he could exploit, anything he could use to get out and find Y/N. His venture was short-lived, as he nearly collapsed into a heap.

For one, his right hand was shackled to the wall with a short chain, one that appeared to match the one on the opposite wall. The cuff was nothing spectacular, one he could have easily crushed with his—

Oh. His arm. That had been the real driving force pulling him back to the ground. Bucky had felt his metal arm go dead before, but this was different. This was more than lifeless weight. No, this felt like his arm was fighting against him, trying to both tear itself apart and rend it from the joint on his shoulder. Every movement sparked shocks from his silver fingertips up through the damaged connecting tissue and into his chest, sending his heart into a panic.

Bucky gave himself to the count of three before gritting his teeth and forcing himself back up to his feet, wrenching the resistant metal appendage up with him. He swallowed back a scream as white hot tendrils of pain coursed through his chest, probing at ribs he was sure were at least bruised in the explosion, if not broken.

He knew he needed to get out of the cuff first; the metal arm would be useless to check the walls for weaknesses, and even if it were functioning, the chain wouldn’t allow him to get close enough. He scanned quickly around the room, looking for something to disable or crush the hinge, but Hydra had been thorough. They knew who they were dealing with. Bucky knew the serum coursing through his veins was probably enough to rip the chain right out of the wall, but it wouldn’t be without cost. He was hesitant to cripple his one functioning hand at this point.

Bucky’s eyes fell once again on his arm, and he noticed that the hand was tensed into a fist so tight that it would have broken the skin if there had been any to break, or fingernails to break it. He almost laughed as an idea struck him. Wincing at the sharp pinches it sent, Bucky peeled the silver fingers back, trying to open his metal hand. Sure enough, they snapped back into a clenched fist, ever-resisting, but definitively demonstrating that he still had grip strength. If Hydra had merely deadened the arm, it would have been useless. Now, he could it make it work.

Bucky’s breath hitched as he forced his prosthetic fingers to wrap around the chain, as close to the wall as could get them. Steadying himself, he twisted sharply, vision darkening at the edges, but it had done the trick. The pin of the chain had yanked free of the wall, swinging to rattle by his side. Bucky leaned heavily against the wall for a moment, allowing his heart to settle from the most recent shock of nerves.

Across the room, there was a tiny whimper, so slight Bucky almost missed it. He strode quickly to the metal bars, the chain rattling along behind him, searching for the source.

His heart dropped clear through his stomach when he saw her. Strapped to a chair in the far corner of the room that hadn’t quite been visible from his spot on the wall, head lolling to the side, a small pool of blood forming at her feet. Bloodied wrists and ankles held fast with shackles to the arms and legs of the chair. Her face so ghostly pale it was almost translucent.

Y/N.

His stomach clenched as he surveyed her form, finding more of it marred with bruises and lacerations than not. Anger coursed through his veins as he noticed her shivering—the soldiers had removed her suit, leaving her in just the black sports bra and spandex shorts she wore underneath.

He wanted to run to her, to scoop her up in his arms and hold her, to tell her that everything would be okay, that he loved her, and—

Not helpful, he chided himself. If you actually want to help her, you need to get yourself out.

Tearing his eyes away from her, Bucky turned his attention to the door. His heart sank. Y/N would be helpful in figuring this out, but Bucky was basically useless when it came to this sort of thing. There weren’t any wires for him to cut, any buttons for him to fiddle with. Just a sleek grey metal box with some kind of scanner and a touchpad. He considered trying to repeat the stunt he’d pulled with the chain, to crush the mechanism, but his ears twitched.

Someone was approaching the door across the room, behind Y/N.

Bucky shuffled quickly back towards the wall, jamming the pin of the chain back into the hole in the wall as the locks on the door began to click. He collapsed heavily to the floor in an effort to look as broken and non-threatening as possible. It wasn’t hard--the fall had jarred his rebellious metal arm, sending another bloom of pain through his chest and stars dancing across his vision.

The door swung open, and two men walked in. The first was clearly in command of the room. His dark brown eyes surveyed Y/N hungrily, and Bucky wanted to throttle him. It was the second man, though, who brought in more concern. He wheeled in a silver cart, one of its wheels squeaking with every rotation. Bucky took one look at the assortment of tools and weapons on that damn squeaking cart and nearly retched.

The brown-eyed man left his vulture-like circling of Y/N’s unconscious form and meandered towards Bucky’s cell door.

“Hello, Soldat. We’ve missed you.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky hissed.

“Not to worry. We’ll correct your behavior later. But for now, I thought it might be nice to remind you why you’ll always come back to Hydra. Your little Avengers can’t protect you. They are...hmmm...deliciously mortal. At least this one is.”

The second man had returned, bringing with him this time a silver bucket. At the first man’s instruction, he heaved it towards Y/N, showering her in ice and water.

.....

You woke with a start to ice water splashing over your face and running quickly down your body, wincing as pebbles of ice assaulted your skin. You blinked against the glaring fluorescent light, searching for any sense that could orient you to a feeling that wasn’t one of pain. White spots danced in your vision, the light assaulting your pounding head. Without even looking up, you knew it was Brown Eyes chuckling next to you, and the sound grated in your ears like nails on a chalkboard. The coppery smell and taste of blood filled your nose and mouth. And what you were feeling...oh, God.

Finally, you willed yourself to open your eyes, if only to assess your physical state.

Red. So much red. You squeezed your eyes shut again, willing your stomach not to heave up its contents.

Okay, Y/N. You’re here. You’re conscious. One thing at a time. He’s watching you. Don’t give him the satisfaction. You gripped the armrests in an effort to ground yourself, fingernails carving little crescents into the soft wood. Taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes again.

You were barefoot, and your cheeks burned a bit as you realized you were in quite a bit less clothing than you had been before you passed out. You were still covered, but you longed for the protection of your tac suit, both from bodily harm and roaming eyes. And the warmth. Damn, you were cold.

Okay. What are we dealing with here? Start small. Small. Your body housed a mess of small cuts and bruises littered from your neck down to your toes. You could feel some damage to your ribs as you drew in each breath, mostly on the left side. Probably bruised, maybe fractured. You could feel a larger gash across your face, tracing from the middle of your forehead, down through your right eyebrow, and trailing towards your ear.

The real problems, though, were your left leg and arm. The tissues were a mess of lacerations and bruising, clearly haven taken a beating by being buried under a pile of cement. And there was something very disconcerting about how they aligned with the rest of your body. An extra dip, a disconnection. You winced as your realized they were probably dislocated. Most likely when you had been wrenched from under the debris.

You took a steadying breath, before finally daring to look up. You gasped a sigh of relief as your eyes locked with steel blue ones, the rest of the figure hidden behind a thick metal grate. But the comfort was short-lived, as Brown Eyes sidled into your line of sight, blocking out Bucky.

“Well, sweetheart. Nice of you to join us,” he sneered. He began to pace around you, shoes clicking across the cement floor. Your eyes fell to the drain a few feet in front of you, and your body tensed further. “I get the feeling this generous offer is going to be ignored, but I figured I should still give you the chance. Tell me how to reprogram the weapons you corrupted, and we’ll kill you quickly.”

He paused his pacing directly in front of you. You refused to look up into his eyes, instead fixing your gaze on the ugly red emblem on his chest. You allowed yourself to be filled with the only emotion that Hydra was deserving of, the only emotion you knew would protect you from caving: unbridled rage. Rage for the thousands of lives lost, corrupted, or mutilated. Rage for the haunted looks in your friends’ eyes following every engagement with this scourge upon humanity. And rage for the kind man with the blue eyes chained across the room.

Brown Eyes leaned down to lock eyes with you, and you heaved a glob of bloody spit onto his face. “Fuck. You.”

You registered your head snapping harshly to the side before you registered the slap to your cheek, heat beginning to bloom where you were sure a red handprint would take up a residence. Worth it.

“Fine, you bitch,” he hissed, as he wiped his face. “Let’s have a little fun then. I think you need to be reminded of who you belong to now.” With a vengeance, he pressed a silver cylinder in between your right collar bone and shoulder, and you writhed at the sudden burning. A fucking branding iron. “You belong to Hydra now. Your little Soldat over there? He is Hydra’s. The weapons you’ve ruined? You, Hydra’s newest tool, will restore them to Hydra!” With every word, he pressed the iron harder, and you couldn’t hold back your screams any longer. Blood-curdling, choking cries, as the smell of burning flesh filled your nostrils, and you retched.

You didn’t even realize the iron had been removed until Brown Eyes took a step back, the memory of it blurring into reality. You glanced down, and were almost relieved to not see the Hydra emblem, but a mess of red and blackened tissue in the shape of a circle. Brown Eyes had dug in too deep, and for too long. Better that than the fucking octopus.

He was back in your face again. “You will tell me how to fix them,” he growled.

You met his eye. “Make me, asshole.” Wrong answer, this time met with a solid hit to your kidneys.

This went on for some time. A demand from him. An expletive from you. A hit to your face or torso. Repeat. Brown Eyes hadn’t touched the cart of tools since the branding iron. And as you bore through round after round, meeting his eyes with every insult, you started to notice the fear lingering behind the malice.

Ah. There it is.

Another hit to your stomach, and you doubled over, coughing blood onto your bare legs, but unable to stop the smile tugging at your cracked lips.

Brown Eyes wasn’t a skilled interrogator. You knew Hydra had plenty of those at their disposal, so why was this too easy? Granted, you were in plenty of pain. But he had yet to target a blow to where it was most effective. A seasoned torturer would pick out the breaks in your ribs, the mess of your shoulder and hip, know exactly how to exploit those to maximize pain. Someone who knew what they were doing wouldn’t neglect the wide array of tools at their disposal. Brown Eyes wasn’t creative, throwing the same punch over and over again. And he landed it quite a bit harder when your rejection was paired with an insult. Emotional. Fearful. And definitely improvising.

Brown Eyes was being tested, or maybe punished. He was terrified, and if you could push him enough, he might knock you out, which would mean he would leave you alone, if only for a moment. He might even throw you in the cell with Bucky, and you two could begin to develop a plan for escape.

You sat up. “Is that really the best you can do? No wonder Hydra doesn’t trust you. You lost them their weapons, and you can’t even throw a decent punch to get them back.” Brown Eyes blanched for a moment, then immediately restored his cold glare, so fast you almost missed it. But there it was; you were right.

“You know, I prefer the sounds of your screams to your mindless rambling. Maybe we should stamp a few more brands on you.” You twisted your right wrist around in the metal cuff of the chair, properly flipping him off.

That was a mistake.

His mind had already drifted towards the tools on the tray, and now you had offered him something to use them on.

He was on you in a second, gripping your right hand harshly, dragging the skin against the metal cuff until it tore, pulling your arm as far out as he could against the constraints. “I wonder how many of these pretty little fingers you need intact to type your little codes,” he teased, plucking up a pair of needle-nosed pliers and edging them under the tip of your middle fingernail. He clamped the pliers down and yanked the entire nail straight from its bed, eliciting a pinched scream from your throat.

Okay. Maybe he was a little bit creative.

You lost two more fingernails that way--your thumb and then your index finger--before your finally lost consciousness. It wasn’t that this last bout of torment had hurt significantly worse than the rest, but your body simply couldn’t handle anymore. It had fought too much for too long. The darkness was a gift.

.....

Bucky had thrown up three times watching Y/N from through the grate. The first came when the iron burned into her skin, and her screams had pierced his heart like a knife, twisting and writhing as her flesh melted. The second was near the end of the exchange. He had seen Y/N flip her tormentor off, and the interaction after that had been shielded by the man’s body. He could see her feet twitching, fighting to carry her away from whatever he was doing. He could hear her screams again, tearing at his very soul. Until finally, she went still.

The final expelling of his stomach came after the second man returned to the room. At the torturer’s instruction, he entered a code in a panel across the room, and the shackles on the chair disengaged. Y/N slumped to the floor in a bloody heap. The second man crossed the room, dragging her with him towards the cell door. He placed a thumb on the touchpad, lowered his eyes to the scanner, and held for a moment. With a click, the lock disengaged, and the door swung open.

Bucky considered rushing the men then and there, but he quickly thought better of it. He had one arm. There was no way he could fight off oncoming attacks and protect Y/N in this state.

The man finished securing her to the opposite wall with the shackle, fastening it around her wrist, leaving her crumpled on the floor. When he stepped out of the way, Bucky got his first unobstructed view of the woman he loved, and he emptied his stomach for the third time.

Both men sneered at him. “You’ve gone soft, haven’t you, Soldat?” the brown-eyed man asked. “Not to worry. We’ll soon have you back to your bloodthirsty self.

The second that both men were out of the room and the locks on the door clicked, Bucky threw himself across the room, protests from the metal arm be damned.

Once again, his hand fluttered just above her, not wanting to make anything worse. There was so much blood. He knew he couldn’t wrap anything. She didn’t have any fabric to offer, and anything torn from his clothes would clue the soldiers in that one of them had escaped their position.

He settled for pulling her head gently into his lap, trying to situate her as comfortably as she could be, given the circumstances. His fingers carded absentmindedly through her hair and he scanned down her form, tears welling into his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, until sleep claimed him.

.....

Bucky couldn’t seem to help how often his eyes flicked up from his book to fall on the beautiful girl perched on the bench of the bay window. She was leaning against the glass, knees pulled up to her chest. The light behind her illuminated the rebellious flyaways that had escaped the bun on top of her head. A book sat open on the distressed denim on her lap, but her attention seemed to be more on the music coming through her...AirPhones? EarPhones? Pods. AirPods.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as her head bobbed side to side, the motion carrying down into her shoulders and torso, finishing with a shift in her hips. Bucky had had a soft spot for Y/N since her first day on the team, when she offered him a hair tie during training, then helped him tie his hair up since his metal arm wasn’t cooperating. That soft spot had grown into a Y/N-shaped hole in his heart the more he got to know her. And as she didn’t run from him the more she got to know him.

“Bucky? You good?” Shit. He had been staring. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I...sorry. Just zoned out. What are you listening to?” She blushed a bit, probably realizing he had seen her little happy dance. If only she knew just how damn endearing it was.

“Umm, right at this very moment, ‘Heavy,’ by Birdtalker. Have you heard it?” When he shook his head, she beckoned over to him, tapping the bench beside her. He fought the urge to leap across the room to her, instead taking measured steps before plopping down on her left.

She handed him one of the AirPods. He must have looked a bit lost, because she took it back a moment later, gentle fingers tucking his hair back behind his ear, before inserting the plastic piece, and he was met with a swell of voices. His skin tingled where her fingers had touched, wishing for more. Clenching his jaw, he sidled a bit closer to her, until their shoulders brushed. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything, still humming along with the song.

“We need to improve your music education. Do you have Spotify?” Breath still faster than he would like it to be, Bucky pulled out his own phone and handed it to her. She clicked around, apparently setting up an account for him, giggling a bit as she billed it to Tony. He bit his lip at the sound, trying to stop his smile from breaking full across his face. Then she turned back to her own phone, very patiently explaining to him how a playlist worked as she added songs. Some that he would recognize, but mostly her favorites.

“Essentials,” she said simply. Through all of this, the music didn’t stop, and neither did her little dance. Her shoulder jostled his, but he couldn’t have minded less. He wondered if he was gaping at her.

When she was satisfied, she sent the playlist to him and added it to his favorites. “Because it will be,” she teased, and Bucky believed her.

.....

“Bucky.” A ragged whisper of his name pulled him from his sleep. He looked down, and his eyes met hers. Tears welled up again as he saw the pain tensed across her face.

“Hey, doll,” he managed. “You did so good. I’m so proud of you.”

“Bucky, I--it hurts,” she gasped. “I want to go home.” Sobs racked her body, and Bucky’s own tears fell onto her face as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. White hot anger coursed in his brain, tensing through his chest, at the organization who had already taken so much from him, and had now stripped Y/N down to such a vulnerable state.

“I know, sweetheart. We’re gonna get you out of here. It’s gonna be okay.” He held her as she cried, curling in towards his stomach, right arm curving to wrap around his waist. She shifted again, and her elbow brushed against his metal arm. She yelped, drawing her arm back towards her, and yelped again as the sudden movement jostled her aching body.

Bucky panicked. “What? What’s wrong?” He grimaced. What wasn’t wrong?

“What happened to your arm? It’s...burning up.” Bucky bit back a groan. Of course, his fucking arm was the problem. It was always the problem.

“I don’t know. They hit it with something when they knocked me out earlier. It’s not dead. It’s like it’s...fighting me.”

Y/N nodded. He winced as he realized he must have fallen on top of her when they knocked him out. He was about to apologize when she spoke instead.

“Have you tried resetting it?”

Bucky’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“Resetting it. It’s not overheating or disabled, it’s corrupted. They had some kind of an energy weapon they used. It probably just needs a...” She trailed off at the dumbfounded look on his face.

“How the fuck do you know that? Why do you know that and I don’t know that?” Y/N shrugged, wincing at the movement in her shoulders. She tried to sit up, and Bucky helped ease her up gently. “I like tech, and I like yo--” She cleared her throat. “Learning about you. Stark showed me.” Bucky thought he saw a trace of a blush on her cheeks, but he dismissed it as the exertion of sitting upright.

Gritting her teeth, she positioned herself next to his arm. “Can I...?”

“Whatever you need.”

“I actually need to get to the underside of the arm, so if you could--” She hadn’t even finished before Bucky had raised the metal appendage up, bending at the elbow to rest the hand behind his head. He hissed through his teeth as his arm fought him, needling at this chest again with shocks of pain.

“Should I even bother trying to understand what they did to it? Or what you’re doing to fix it?”

“Umm...you could, but Stark could explain it a hell of a lot better.” She probed at the base of the arm in his armpit, her hand shaking. Bucky spotted the pools of blood where three fingernails had been, and he almost made her stop. He was asking too much of her. But she pressed on, her cold fingers gentle against the metal, and Bucky reminded himself that without his arm, there was no way to get her out.

“I don’t really understand the whole energy bit. That’s a Hydra weapon, and I honestly didn’t want to know much about it. But it’s basically acting like a virus in your arm... I guess technically closer to an autoimmune disease, since it’s making it fight against itself. But that metaphor doesn’t translate well into how I’m fixing it. This is the equivalent of turning it off and turning it back on again.”

Okay. That much he could follow. But his arm could be reset? “Stark didn’t want to tell me about this?” He watched as she counted four plates up from the edge. She tried to grip at it with her battered fingers, stifling a groan, before switching to pry it up with her pinky fingernail.

“I think he meant to. At first it was put in as a security measure. In case...” She didn’t have to finish that. In case he became a threat.

She cleared her throat. “But now that you’re...fine...he meant to tell you. It must have slipped his mind.” Bucky grumbled at that, but he was soon distracted. The plate Y/N had pried up revealed a minuscule panel of dials.

“You’re gonna want to hold the arm up, or it’ll come crashing down on your head.” Bucky obliged as she flicked a series of dials, a complicated combination to prevent abuse of this hidden feature.

Sure enough, the metal arm collapsed into his right hand. Bucky sighed in relief. The arm was heavy, but the limp weight was familiar, and it didn’t send tendrils of pain screaming through his body.

Y/N twisted in another combination, flicking the cover back into place, and suddenly the arm whirred back to life. Plates tensed, rolling up and then down like a deck of cards, before settling into the comfortable rhythm Bucky was accustomed to.

“You are fucking incredible,” Bucky grinned. She smiled at that, the first real smile he had seen since her little happy dance at the computer. That felt like months ago.

She shifted towards him, and the smile turned to a grimace, pulling Bucky out of his reverie. Blood was still pooling around her, expelling from more open wounds than he could count. She had put a brave face back on, but he could see her eyes glazing over. She was going to bleed out unless he did something.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, tearing at the hem of his shirt. Her eyes went wide.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to stop some of this bleeding. Get you stable enough so we can--”

“Bucky, if your shirt is wrapped around me, it’s gonna take them about two seconds to realize you’re not chained up anymore.”

“Well what does that matter if I kill them the next time they come in? We need to get you out, Y/N. You’re losing too much blood. You won’t make it through another round of--”

“No, you need to get out. I told you earlier, Buck. I’m a liability. I can’t walk. I can’t fight. Look at this pool of blood. There is no way I’m making it out of here. Let me go knowing you made it out of--”

“Y/N!” he yelled. “There is not a chance in hell I am leaving the woman I love to die here alone!”

Y/N squeaked out a gasp. Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

You asshole. She’s already in so much pain and now you’ve put that burden on her, too.

“Please,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Let me get you out.”

A click at the door echoed through the room, the first of many locks being undone. Bucky leapt up, sprinting across the room and jamming the pin back into the wall. He cursed. He hadn’t even wrapped Y/N’s wounds or broken the shackle on her wrist, let alone sorted out any draft of a plan. But one glance at the ever-growing pool of blood on the floor confirmed his suspicions. They wouldn’t get another chance.

He locked eyes with her across the room, a silent war waged between them as the clicking from the door echoed. Y/N’s stare was hard, protesting, but he could see a flicker of something else behind her eyes as tears brimmed. Finally, finally, she nodded slowly, collapsing against the wall.

Bucky let out a shaky breath of relief. He tensed, waiting, as the door swung open and the brown-eyed man strode in.

“Up and at ‘em, princess,” he growled, clearing the room in three strides, planting his thumb on the pad and dropping his eye-line to meet the scanner. Bucky couldn’t help but notice the bruise under his eye. Clearly, someone hadn’t been happy that he hadn’t succeeded yet.

The tormentor sauntered into the cell towards Y/N, who cowered against the wall.

“Hmmm...” He feigned consideration. “Definitely a closed casket for you.”

“Better than looking at your ugly mug any longer,” she spat. She flinched back as he raised his hand to strike her, eyes squeezing closed.

The blow never connected.

Bucky leapt on him from across the room, slamming his arm down to his side before wrapping both hands around the sides of his head and snapping his neck in a single jerk. It was over so fast, Y/N still had her eyes closed waiting for a hit that wouldn’t come.

Bucky kneeled and reached a hand towards her, heart crumpling as she jerked away from him. “Hey,” he pleaded. “It’s me. It’s over.” It wasn’t, not yet, but he could give her this moment.

He reached slowly towards the chain at her wrist, snapping it easily and leaving her with just the cuff still wrapped around her like a bracelet. He didn’t want to risk hurting her by breaking that part off too.

“Sorry, we can get that—” His words died in his throat as she threw herself into his arms, right arm coming to wrap around his neck, left arm dangling limply at her side. Bucky’s breath hitched as she nuzzled her face into his neck, and he sat there stunned for a moment.

But the moment passed, and Bucky allowed himself to hold her, his right arm wrapping around her waist, and his metal hand resting on the back of her head, silver fingers fiddling with her hair. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, and the warm breath of her sigh fanned over his neck.

Bucky could have stayed like that forever, holding her in his arms, but he was all too aware of the blood that was seeping into the front of his suit. Blood that definitely wasn’t his.

He moved his hands to her shoulders and gently pushed her back. “Okay, doll. It’s time to go.” She nodded, and he rose to his feet.

“Can you walk?” He already knew the answer to that, but he also knew she was too stubborn to admit it. He extended both of his hands to her. She braced both of hers against his forearms, and he gripped her elbows. He lifted her slowly to her feet, and she stifled a groan. Not letting go of her, he eased her forward a step. The moment she put weight on her left leg, she buckled into him.

“I’m sorry! I can do it. I just need a--” she panted, “--a second.”

“Y/N, doll, all due respect, but no, you cannot. Your internal organs have probably been rearranged a bit by that beating. Your shoulder and hip are probably dislocated, and you probably have some breaks in there too. You are dripping blood from more cuts than I can count. And you don’t have any fucking shoes.” He tried for a grin on that last bit, but it was marred by the tears in his eyes as he recounted the damage to her body.

“I can carry you. That’s fine. And normally I would just scoop you up, but I don’t really know what we’re dealing with out there. I, uh, I kinda need an arm free.”

She shrugged weakly. “I still think you should leave me here. You do whatever you gotta do.”

He shot her a glare at that, then bent down to brace his right shoulder at her waist. He heaved her up into a fireman’s carry, wrapping his right arm around the back of her legs. He felt her anchor her right hand against his back. Her left arm dangled at his side.

“You good?” he called. She hummed in response.

“Okay. We got this. I need you to watch my six, okay?” He didn’t actually want her to bear that responsibility, but he was concerned that if she didn’t have something to focus on, she would fade out of consciousness, and that she might not come back. Bucky’s shoulder was already damp with the blood seeping out of her.

He tensed his metal arm, then strode quickly out of the open cell door, past the awful bloody wooden chair, and out the door into the hall.

.....

The next several minutes passed in a blur. You tried to do as Bucky asked and watch his back, but your eyelids fought against you, and your blinks were getting longer every time you gave in. The two of you were met with surprisingly little resistance, or maybe you just missed it all. You felt Bucky engage with two, maybe three soldiers as he made his way down the hall. He handled them each with his one free hand. Bones cracked, and he moved on. You winced at how useless you were, draped over his shoulder, weighing down his escape.

It wasn’t long before the harsh fluorescent lights were replaced with fading rays of sunlight. As Bucky swiveled to check the door he had just brought you out of, you caught a glimpse of the sun setting over the mountains, painting the sky with golds and pinks.

You sighed in relief at the sight, even as Bucky turned back around and the view was replaced with the Hydra compound. But wait. It had been dawn when the two of you had breached Hydra defenses in the first place. Had it really only been one day? Or worse, had it been two?

As if voicing the thoughts in your head, the super soldier muttered, “God, how long were we in there?” He moved quickly into the coverage of the surrounding forest.

When you didn’t respond, he cleared his throat. “Doll? You with me?”

“Hmm? Yeah.”

“The safe house isn’t far from here. We can get you cleaned up and call for evac.”

“Why didn’t—” You hacked a cough, wincing as you heaved blood down the back of Bucky’s vest. “Why didn’t they come and get us?” Even if it had only been one day, which you strongly doubted, that was far too long for them to not know that something was wrong.

“Steve didn’t tell you? He waived the check-ins. Gave us a two-day infiltration window plus a two-day cool-down at the safe house. Figured we could handle it, and the less communication the better for staying under the radar.”

Right. You did remember Steve saying something about less communication, but you had been a bit distracted, working up the nerve to ask for a different partner. The longer debrief period was new information, though. Your cheeks burned as you wondered if that had anything to do with your mortifying confession.

“So...no one’s coming?”

“Not until we check in. My emergency beacon is gone. I’m assuming yours is too.”

“Well I just have so many pockets to check right now, so...” Bucky chuckled at that.

A breeze tickled through the trees and teased the few pieces of your hair that weren’t matted down with blood, raising goosebumps on your exposed skin. You shivered.

“Ummm...Bucky?”

“Yeah, doll?”

“Do you think you could...I mean, do you think we’re far enough that...I’m sorry, I’m just so...cold.” You felt his shoulder tense beneath you and he cursed.

“Shit, doll, of course. I’m sorry, I was just so focused on getting us out.” He eased you down off his shoulder, then lifted you again, this time with one arm tucked around your back and the other under your knees. You eased your left arm into your lap, then snaked your right arm around his neck.

You looked up at him, finding so much concern in his stormy blue eyes. And something else, too, but you weren’t quite sure what it was. “Thank you,” you whispered, sidling into his chest, sighing into his warmth.

“Of course,” he said softly. “Stay with me, okay?”

You nodded, but your eyes were fighting you again. The warmth felt much better than the cold, but it didn’t help your alertness. You could hear Bucky’s concern as he begged for you to stay awake, but it felt like his voice was miles away, and perhaps underwater too. You settled against him, the rhythm of his gait lulling you into darkness again.

.....

Bucky was going to kill Steve. Nat, too. Maybe the whole team. In short, anyone who had given the go-ahead for an op with so few contingencies. He knew they hadn’t expected for the pair to meet so much resistance, but still. Here he was, barreling through the door of the safe house--a safe house that was so fucking far away--with Y/N long passed out in his arms, still raining blood on the ground.

She had tried so hard to stay awake. He knew she had been trying. But her body had sustained too much. He had stopped twice, shedding his own layers to wrap around her, trying to warm her up, to staunch any of the bleeding, to prevent her blood from leaving a trail to be tracked along the forest floor. He was reticently glad for the snow that started to fall, freezing the pair further, but covering their tracks.

Kicking the door shut behind him and hearing the mechanized lock whir into place, Bucky flew across the room, depositing Y/N gently on the couch. She was still out, but her teeth chattered uncontrollably, and her whole body shook.

He stepped back and surveyed the room. A brand new safe house--simple, but well-prepared. He knew there wouldn’t be a heating system: too much energy, too easily picked up. But the fireplace was well-stocked, and he had a blaze going in minutes. His eyes probed the walls as he lifted Y/N gently from the couch and placed her in a pile of blankets close to the fire, his gaze finally coming to rest on a painting of a falcon. He rolled his eyes--Sam was less than subtle.

He took a little bit too much pleasure in tearing it down, revealing a metal panel with a touch pad. He jammed his thumb onto the scanner, and the panel swung open after a moment. He emptied the safe of its contents: an extensive med-kit, an emergency beacon, and a secure satellite phone. He dropped it all in a heap next to Y/N, punching in a number and clicking on speaker as he unzipped the first aid kit and activated the emergency beacon.

The phone rang three times before Steve picked up with a chuckle. “Hey Buck, how’s the safe house?” Bucky almost screamed.

“Steve. I’m going to wring your damn neck when I get back. But right now, I need you to get your star-spangled ass on the jet and come get us.”

“Hey, hey! What’s going on? We got the confirmation that Y/N did her thing about 36 hours ago. We just figured the two of you were enjoying the safe house--”

“What the fuck would we be doing for 36 hours?”

Steve cleared his throat. Bucky could almost hear the blush on his face. “I mean, she likes you, and you like her, so--”

“You idiot. We just got here. They knocked us out, tried to torture Y/N into fixing the weapons, and she’s not--” His voice broke as he glanced down at her. This conversation was taking too long. Her breaths were getting shallower with every inhale. “Fuck, Steve. I don’t know that she’s gonna make it.” A sob heaved up from his chest.

“We’re on our way, Buck. Just hold on.” Steve’s voice was solemn now. “Triage her the best you can. We’ll have the cradle and Helen ready. It’s gonna be okay.”

Bucky hung up. He needed his full attention on her, needed her to hold on long enough for the help to be worth anything.

Triage. Biggest problems first. Blood loss. Infection. Dehydration. Discomfort. Bucky wished he had let Sam teach him more about this shit. He made a mental note to ask him to show him everything he could the second Y/N was safe.

He at least knew how to set up a blood transfusion, and he did so quickly, threading the needle into the crease of her right elbow, thanking Nat silently for having the foresight to include a list of everyone’s blood types in the kit.

He gently peeled back the blankets to assess the sources of blood flow. He knew she was bleeding internally from the beating and from the ceiling collapse, but he couldn’t do anything about that now. That would have to wait until the cradle arrived. Every time his gaze fell on a new bruise or laceration, tears threatened to spill over onto his cheeks. He forced his mind to remain blank other than sorting: stitches, gauze, or bandaid.

His fingers flew of their own volition, over and over again. Numbing agent injected. Cleaning agent applied. Antibacterial administered. Stitches threaded. A bandage fastened over. On her left hip. On her forehead. Six places on her left leg. Four on her arm.

Then, the gauze. Cleaning again. More antibacterials. Wrapping to keep pressure. On the rest of her left arm and leg. On the messy burn on her collar bone. On her right wrist, where the brown-eyed man had shredded it against the cuff. The metal shackle still dangled there.

Finally, bandaids. Bucky knew they weren’t really necessary, but he couldn’t stop himself from moving. Gentle wiping of blood, and three little bandaids wrapped around the empty nail beds on her right hand. He found himself reluctant to let go of her hand, fingers ghosting over knuckles before gently pressing a kiss to them.

Bucky sat back on his heels, groaning a bit at the throbbing in his knees and the tension in his back and shoulders. How long had he been sitting there? He surveyed her form, now a hodgepodge of gauze, swirling purple and blue bruises, and a few rare patches of unmarred but very pale skin. There were still remnants of blood, speckles and drips. He grabbed a rag and walked to the sink, running the water until it grew warm, and he soaked the edge of the fabric.

When he returned to her side, he stopped in his tracks, eyes locking with hers.

“Y/N!” He fell to his knees next to her, cupping a hand to her face. “Oh, doll, I wasn't sure you--”

“I’m okay, Buck.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Have you seen yourself lately?”

Her lip curled into half a smile. “Have you? You look like hell.”

“Yeah, well, most of that is from you bleeding all over me.”

Her smile dropped. “Sorry, I--”

“Are you actually trying to apologize to me for bleeding?”

Silence. Bucky smiled softly. “I’m gonna finish getting you cleaned up, and then we can deal with me, okay?” He spent a few minutes wiping the rest of the dried blood from her body as gently as her could, revealing even more nicks and cuts from the explosion.

He felt her gaze on him as he worked, and he was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was not wearing a shirt, having shed it and his tac vest long ago to wrap around her on their trudge to the safe house.

His ears burned as he considered how that must look to her, and they burned even more as he realized she was seeing the tissue above his left arm for the first time.

“I’m, uh--I’m sorry. I needed to wrap you in something so there wouldn't be a trail...I’m gonna go look for some other clothes for us.” He cleared his throat awkwardly and made to get up, but she caught his wrist.

“Buck. It’s okay. Can I...?” She raised her right hand slowly towards the mass of scar tissue. He watched her eyes for any sign of disgust or discomfort, but found none. An impossibly long moment later, he felt her fingers come to rest in the divots of the scars, and his eyes fluttered closed. She ran her fingers along the skin gently for a moment, and when her touch disappeared he missed it instantaneously. It was only gone for a second, before he felt her lips press to his shoulder instead, and his eyes flew open. She had pushed herself up into a sitting position, her right hand now resting on his metal bicep, and her soft lips kissing over the frayed nerves. Bucky sighed at the contrast of her heavenly touch with the coursing pain he had been feeling there only a few hours ago.

She pulled back, eyes locking with his, asking a question they both knew the answer to.

That answer came as he cupped the back of her head and pressed his lips gently against hers, capturing her bottom lip between his own. There was no urgency, just sweet warmth and intensity. She tasted like copper and salt, and something sweeter, something entirely her own.

Bucky leaned into her, and she yelped. “Shit!” He pulled back instantly. “Sorry, I don’t want to push you into anyth--”

“No, it’s not that at all,” she grimaced. “I leaned back onto my shoulder. I think it’s dislocated.”

Fuck. Bucky had been so focused on stopping her from bleeding out, he hadn’t addressed anything deeper.

“Right. Ummm...I can check? I should probably check for breaks, too, since you had a mountain of concrete on top of you. If you’re okay with that,” he finished hurriedly. She nodded in encouragement, laying back down.

He probed gently at the joint of her shoulder, cursing under his breath as she grit her teeth. Sure enough, it was dislocated. He ran his hand slowly down her arm, dodging sutures and patches of gauze, halting as she hissed through her teeth. There it was, about four inches above her wrist, a break in one of the bones of her forearm. Luckily, it didn’t seem to have deviated from position. He could splint that.

Bucky repeated the process with her left leg, finding a similar dislocation in her hip, but no clear breaks. There was probably some fracturing, given the volume of her reaction, but at least nothing to set. A quick run over her right limbs found no additional causes of concern--they hadn’t been buried under a pile of ceiling.

“Okay. So two dislocations and a break. We can keep you comfortable here, and then when the team arrives they can--”

“Buck. I need to have these set before they put me in the cradle, or they’ll heal wrong. You should set them now.”

“Yeah, it’s just...I already used all of the numbing agent, and I don’t think I can administer any pain meds on top of that. Especially since your circulatory system is all over the place with the transfusion. We should wait.”

“Look. You did a wonderful job piecing me back together. You saved my life. Hear me say that.” She gently cupped his jaw, pulling his gaze down to hers. “You saved my life. But we both know I’m a mess inside and the sooner they get me in the cradle the better. We should be as ready as we can be.”

He hesitated. “It’s gonna hurt like hell. And I’ve seen just about all I can stand of you in pain.” The second the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. How selfish was that? She had been through hell and back, and he wasn’t going to treat her because he didn’t want to see her cry anymore?

She wasn’t fazed, though. She looked at him softly. “I know, Buck. But please. Give me my best shot, okay?” He turned his face, pressing a kiss to her palm.

“Okay, doll,” he conceded. “Ummm, let’s see. We should splint the break first. Immobilize it. I’ll need to manipulate your whole arm to get the shoulder back in, and I don’t want to aggravate it more.” He pulled a brace and more gauze from the kit, laying the wood against her forearm, pressed against her wrist, and began to wrap slowly. He watched her face as he worked, and was relieved to see it wasn’t contorting in pain, just mild discomfort betrayed by a stiffness in her jaw and a twitching of her upper lip.

“Okay,” he warned, as he fastened the end of the gauze down. “That was the easy one. Relocating these...are you sure?”

She breathed deeply, coughing a bit on the exhale and painting the edges of her lips with red. “Yes.”

“All right. Here we go.” Bucky laid her left arm straight out, perpendicular to her body. He sat parallel to it, boots braced against her torso, hands clamped around her wrist and elbow. “Count to three for me.”

She looked over, eyeing him suspiciously. She knew this tactic, but it wasn’t going to stop him from using it. “One...tw--”

Bucky pulled hard, and tears sprang into his eyes as something between a cry and a strangled scream ripped itself from Y/N’s throat. He could go his whole life never hearing that sound again. But he still had one more joint to reset.

He ran a hand soothingly down her side as she held her splinted arm across her chest defensively, like an animal guarding its wounds. Tears streamed down her face, and a sheen of sweat had broken out on her forehead.

“Shit!”

“Doll, I--”

“Just do it,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “Please just...just do it.”

The sound was worse the second time as her hip was clicked back into place, a scream choked by a sob, and the tears that had been threatening finally spilled over onto Bucky’s face. He laid down on her right side, pulling her gently into his chest, wiping at the tears on her face.

“You did so good, doll. I got you. Just rest now.” She folded into him, and his right arm wrapped gently around her waist. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and felt with relief as her breathing fell into a soft rhythm.

.....

You shivered as consciousness flooded back—you were noticeably colder now than you remembered being last. Not having a super soldier wrapped around you would do that. The significant reduction in pain was definitely an improvement, but you missed the feeling of him against you, now absent, except...

Your eyes fluttered open to rest on your right hand, only to find it disappearing between two much larger ones, one calloused flesh and the other smooth metal. You blinked quickly, trying to shake the dancing spots from your vision, a headache already building from the fluorescent lights and the soft rhythmic beeping of the monitors next to you.

You tensed your hand, squeezing Bucky’s, and he startled up, his blue eyes wide and searching yours.

“Hey! You’re awake! Hold on, I can grab—“ He moved to get up, starting to let go of your hand, but you caught him.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine for just a minute longer. Just...sit here for a second?” He fell easily back into the chair, wrapping his hands around yours again.

You looked him over, not expecting to find many injuries. He hadn’t had a lot to begin with, and the serum was better treatment than most. Instead, your gaze fixated on the dark circles under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the deep-set wrinkles in his clothes. You pursed your lips.

“How long was I out?”

“Two days.”

“And how long have you been here?” It wasn’t really a question, and he didn’t answer.

You sighed. “Bucky, did you really do the idiot-guy-refusing-to-take-care-of-himself-because-he-must-wait-at-the-fallen-girl’s-bedside thing?”

“Hey!” he pouted. “I had to be there for all of the passing outs—and there were a fucking lot of them, by the way. I figured I should get to be there for the waking up, too.”

You pulled your hand from his and shoved halfheartedly at his shoulder, earning a chuckle that made your heart dance. “Well, now that I am awake, you’re off the hook. You should sleep. Or eat. Or shower. Probably all three. Where’s Steve?”

“He’s dead. I killed him.” Bucky may have had the Winter Soldier thousand-mile-stare down cold, but he couldn’t hide the twinkle in his eyes from you. You shoved him again, quite a bit harder this time.

“Hey! Hey! Okay, he’s fine. Definitely feeling a bit guilty, though. He took one look at you when I brought you up the ramp to the jet and burst into tears. I believe his exact words were, ‘Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry.’”

Your jaw dropped. “Steve said ‘fuck’? Damn, do I really look that bad?”

“You could never,” Bucky smiled, more serious this time. “A bit battered, yes, but still just as beautiful.”

A familiar pink crept over your cheeks and tickled the tops of your ears. Bucky cleared his throat and continued.

“Anyway, Steve should be back later tonight. The second you were stable, he took...well, pretty much everybody with him to go clear out the Hydra base. Everyone except Nat, since she still isn’t cleared for combat. She raised hell over that, but I think they convinced her she could be useful restocking the safe house, since we used so many supplies. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up in the fray anyway. Everyone took it pretty personally.”

You gaped. “Everyone went? I didn’t realize I had that kind of pull.”

Bucky smiled. “How could you not?”

“They could have just sent flowers,” you teased. “They didn’t have to...” You trailed off, seeing Bucky’s face tense. His eyes fell to fixate on the gauze wrapped around your wrist.

“Bucky?” Your hand found his again, and you squeezed gently, trying to draw his gaze back to you. “Bucky? Hey. It wasn’t their fault.”

He swallowed hard. “No, I know that. It’s just...Y/N, I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you.”

“But you didn’t,” you pressed gently, running your thumb in small circles on the back of his hand. “Bucky, you saved my life. You know that, don’t you? Hey. Look at me.” Finally, his eyes found yours, storming and glassy. “You, James Buchanan Barnes, saved my life.” You teased a smile at him. “Hell, I bet Helen told you that already, and you’re just too damn stubborn to believe it.”

He was silent for a moment, searching your gaze with tear-filled eyes, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Hey, Buck?” you whispered, heat rising to your cheeks once again. You wondered if you kept this up, if it would become a permanent feature.

“Yeah, doll?”

“When we were arguing...in the cell...you said something, and I—”

“Fuck, doll. I’m so sorry.” A matching shade of pink painted across his face. “I shouldn’t have put that on y—”

“I love you, Bucky.”

His eyes widened. “You—you do?” he asked, his voice a bit strangled.

You nodded, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “And you know...we didn’t really get to finish our first kiss.” You scooted over to the far side of the bed, tugging his hand with you.

He grinned. “Well, I suppose...we should do something about that.” He climbed gingerly up next to you, and you turned on your side to face him. Your skin tingled as he brought his hand up to cup the side of your face, thumb running along your cheekbone, fingers flicking into your hair. His forehead rested against yours for a moment, and then his lips melded with yours, and the world fell away.

The world had fallen out from under you five times in the last four days. Explosion. Dislocation. Torture. Blood loss. Healing. Each fading had welcomed nothing but darkness, empty and cold.

Now, as the fluorescent lights, the beeping monitors, and the hum of hospital machinery melted into nothingness, they were replaced by pure light and warmth. Full of color and the promise of something more. Bucky.

You broke away after what felt like a blessed eternity, breathless. Your grin brushed against his. “Definitely a shower,” you jabbed, feigning a scrunch of your nose.

“Only if you join me, doll,” he chuckled.

You shrugged up your casted arm in protest. “I think we may need to hold off on that one for a bit.” You winked at him. “Raincheck?”

Somehow, his smile became wider. “Deal,” he mumbled against the corner of your mouth as you kissed away the tears that had dared to fall. You could feel your own tracing down your cheeks, and knew that, like his, they were those of pure unadulterated joy. His fingers carded through your hair, and he locked his stormy blue eyes on yours.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too.”

A/N: So...there it is! If you stuck all the way through it, I am very thankful for you. If you feel so inclined to leave a like or comment, you have my heart. Feedback is appreciated, although I do ask that you remember that I am a person with feelings, so please consider sharing criticisms with kindness. I’m still learning the ins and outs of all of this, so if you have requests or suggestions, send them my way. Much love to you all!

Update: This fic is now a two-shot! Read the sequel to deadweight, entitled deliverance, here.

[samodivaa]

Words don’t trigger him, emotions do

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Anger, resentment and especially, jealousy—those emotions were all he knew while you both spent decades at Hydra.

Warnings- angst, jealously, mental struggles, smut, possessive sex, love bites

Words- 3400

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And his love has its own dark morality when rivalry enters in, when another man dares to flirt with you and Bucky shall show well what he shows best.

“Hello, snowflake" he says "Hope I'm...interrupting”

There is an intonation so bitter and so imperative that the man who you are talking with shallows hard. The words which are set in the air—in themselves they are simple and sweet. But his jealousy, protectiveness are a living thing. Shifting, changing, growing.

"Do you know the man?" he asks politely, blue eyes burning with violence.

There is a natural comorbidity between possessiveness and jealousy, between the desire to fuck and the desire to kill.

„Yeah, I do,“ you reply and Bucky feels alone in the moment your eyes break contact—and in a fever, among the walls of the bar, he looks around too, a thickening twilight peeps out in his mind.

"Who is he?" he asks in a pleasant but cold voice, now clearly less friendly than before.

„It doesn’t matter“ you smile softly, that sentence is a uttered curse to Bucky’s ears. Immediately, his guard is up.

Bucky is silent for a moment, suffocated by the situation, ringing in his ears, and the heart—it will bust.

The simplicity of your answer spreads as frost, closing off the light of his eyes. His mind starts racing once again, a nameless emotion has nested in Bucky – who is that guy?

Bucky sits on your left side before he leans on the counter next to you, with his metal hand and puts his right one on his tight, closer to his gun strapped there.

You know him, you know that behavior— this yearning to protect, tearing at his insides like hunger and thirst. It is not love. Love is warm and soft, like a bed of leaves. But this is dark, like the shade under a poisonous shrub, and it is hungry. So hungry.

You know its' name—Winter.

You're stuck with him. Not for a few decades, not for centuries. You're tied to him forever. That's why you are good at putting out his flame before it grows—the frame he still carries from the past.

Jealousy isn't a pleasant quality, apart from its inconvenience there's even something touching about it—his starless nights eyes—his face, as if it has been a dial cut in impassive stone, the dwindling of life.

You are equipped to handle what he has, both past and present—package deal of both. In other words, you have been assigned a load you can handle.

“Bucky-”

“Let's go home, it’s getting late” he interrupts, in a soft, vicious voice.

“Give me ten minutes”

He feels like a thread has come between you when he hears your answer, tugging, tugging at his heart—so hard, it hurts him.

You glare at each other. He closes his eyes, because there is a petulant woundedness with which he stares back at you.

Neither of you say a word until Bucky moves, leaning back against the counter, and folding his arms over his chest. It takes all his concentration, to keep from ripping out this man’s throat. But Bucky shoves the familiar fury down, to the place where he stifles Winter's power.

“Okay”

He says as he looks over to the man, and wants him to say something mean so he would have an excuse to shoot him. Bucky is something dark and beautiful, in conflict with what he shows to the world and what he truly feels inside, it is hard to control it.

A worry deep in you stir, but you ignore it for now, pushing it down as best you can with the distraction of music and whiskey.

You fully turn to the man and all Bucky wants is your full attention. He wants your gaze to stay fixed on him, only him. He wants to stare into those beautiful eyes for as long as he lives.

Every avalanche begins with the movement of a single snowflake, and you are this Snowflake tonight.

When the ten minute mark hits you hear a quiet screeching sound—he has carved a small heart on the counter with his index metal finger—you can’t believe how jealousy has him gagging, his blue eyes are clouded before he lowers his gaze to the floor.

Snow is super soft, bottomless and amazingly light, yet supportive—until you take a wrong turn and feel every crystal reacting within your soul, suffocating you. Bucky has lost himself in the emotional storm: it takes so little this time, to put fuel in his cynical heart.

“Bucky…” you whisper and your eyes meet, his actual humanity can’t seem to triumph over the rage and jealousy this time, something you hardly imagine in your wildest dreams.

And this is the secret you both share—the kind you don't dare to let out—Words don't trigger him, but emotions do. You can’t leave them unnoticed, unattended and unsolved.

“Let's head home”

Your language has been lost for so long at Hydra. But not the gestures. It is almost comforting, this mutual acceptance of understanding each other without the need for words.

He maintains his silence, but he slowly gets up—he doesn’t look back, he knows you are following him closely. Of course you do, but you think about what has just happened

While you were looking into his eyes, there were fragments of his inner struggle that were deeply repressed—he always tries to repress the past. It’s hard to distinguish if they were buried inside because dealing with them was such dirty work, or if he was ashamed to voice them.

The truth is that he would rather dig his own heart out, with a knife, than admit it. A while ago he let you know that it's hard to control certain emotions—but he didn’t want to throw his intimacy in front of you, especially when he cares.

But nothing stays secret forever

You are trying to heal too, but, finally, there are things which he is afraid to divulge even to himself—he needs you, he needs your reassurance, he feels like someone will snatch you from his hands, damn his split personalities and untrustworthy habits from the past, but he can’t help it, it scares him.

You are both unearthed by deception, torture, brainwashing, whose essence was shrouded by Hydra—your own father naming the Winter Soldier program after his own daughter, you, stringing you with Bucky together—the yearning theme of your life.

After you escaped Hydra, you went your separate ways until he came back to you, searching for someone who understands him.

That was a year ago.

The more he thinks about it, the more he wants you, the more my desire rises and swells—

“Bucky” He shakes his head in exasperation, not stopping as he climbs the stairs to your shared apartment, aiming for the door, but he can’t stay with you, not when he is not fully himself “Bucky, stop, talk to me”

You have known him for so long, you can see the pride through his words, the truth through his silence, and the anger through his smile.

Always.

“Soldat“  he turns to you, perusing your body as he comes to stand in front of you, his abysses as deep as those of love, finally meet yours.

That realization takes about a nanosecond to register in Bucky’s brain before the real important information comes to the forefront—you’ve noticed.

He lowers his head toward you, so you could feel his breath warm against your skin, your mouths only inches apart

“Why did you call me that?”

He has no answer nor idea, just a never-ending list of questions, he is searching for a loophole that increasingly feels like a noose—he denies it, he tries to—you are not entitled to exposing him like that.

How hollow is it for him to have no secrets left—Bucky's love gives, and Soldat's lust takes.

His gaze, improper, is the most sensual thing he can have done at this moment, and it jolts your heart into a strange rhythm as you speak

“Tell me, how can I help?” You put your hands on his chest, your eyes still locked and an unwelcome sensation pierces you.

“You already know” he says thoughtfully as his cool gaze devours you “snezinka” (snowflake) and his lusty grin when he says that, it's sinful—and pleasurable.

“There is nothing to worry about. Do whatever you want to make yourself feel better” All you want to do is make him feel better, to drown his worries in your embrace.

Both shame and worry drown themselves in the dark eyes that stare back at him.

You.

Only you.

Bucky dreads this power you have over him.

Everything you say is exceedingly obvious, and undoubtedly true, but he feels that something more obscure, more frightening lurks in the back of your mind.

You don’t halt the hands he lays on your waist when he pushes you, backing you into the door.

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1968–1969, Zhao Jianmin Spy Case

„That is going to be mass murder, send them together.“

This mission is a long, never-ending massacre, it never ends.

He is lost in your eyes, it’s eating him alive.

Corpses fill the floor, the sight of gore is peaceful in your corrupted existence. He becomes obsessed in this moment of solitude with you, he has the need to touch you and you respond with a kiss, blood all over your face.

Your wretched fate is shared, your need for touch also.

Winter’s lust betrays him as he pushes you against the wall, feasting on your lips and neck, his hands running up and down your back.

“Relax, Winter” you giggle as you gently press your fingers into his shoulders, forcing him to break the kiss as he looms over you- waiting with a predatory grin.

„I need you, Samodiva“ he slurs, eyebrows furrowed as he glances up at you. His trembling fingers touch the strings in vain, wanting to find the right notes from the fading memory, Soldat wants his soul to vibrate again; with lust, with love.

He knows you feel his arousal, your closeness causing him to grow hard, inhaling sharply, enjoying the sensations you are eliciting in him.

“I need you, too” you finally answer without faltering.

This is all Soldat needs to hear - his tongue flicking lightly over your neck once again, tracing the skin slowly, eliciting a moan from your lips, bodies acting on instinct.

A soft squeak escapes your puffy lips, the tension building up in your body too fast, too soon. Winter puts his hands around your waist, your pants already unbuckled, surrendered to him.

He wastes no time, there's no time left… his hands suddenly drop to his own pants, popping the button open and then pulling down the zipper.

The feeling of your insides drains all of his self power to not come on the first trust, he moves at an excruciating slowly pace, fucking you into the bloodstained walls, there is a glimpse of human nature when you fill the room with moans.

„I am yours,“ he whispers, his words sending a series of chills through her.

This is about him, not you, this is what he needs.

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“1968, do you remember?“ he groans as he brushes his mouth against your cheek. The plea in his tone floods your veins with a whole different form of power “Just say no, snezinka-”

“This is exactly what I want“ you counter. As you arch your back, pressing the tips of your breasts against his chest, closing your eyes at the whisper of a kiss, at the hunger that ravages inside you.

He leans down more, his mouth only inches from yours. “Fuck,” the barely leashes growl of his voice rumbles up through his chest, and every nerve ending in your body flares to life.

Bucky loves seeing you pinned to the door—his control balancing precariously on the point of a knife. He tightens his hands holding you even closer, until your chest is pressed against his own, you can feel his hard cock pressing between your bodies.

All he needs is one push.

And you are about to shamelessly shove.

“Come on, I can take it” you tilt your head up to his and draw his bottom lip between yours, sucking before gently nipping him with your teeth. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay” He speaks against your throat and finishes one languorous stroke up the column of your neck.

It breaches something within him, and he gives in.

Finally, mouths collides, and the kiss is hot and hard—it invades his body, abolishing any constraints and bringing to life the desire for you. It grounds him firmly in the moment and drags his body in it, too—Bucky wants to be the only thing touching you, the only thing that touches you ever again. He is kissing the shell of your ear, nipping at it gently and then soothing the nips with soft kisses.

Rage. Lust. Jealousy. Past. Preset. Every day is a reminder of how nothing stays the same, every day an exercise in variability, resilience, understating and trust.

You love the seasons, but, you must admit—at the risk of offending the others—Winter is your very favorite one. What a beautiful madness, to explore the darkness in his old self and find joy in the unearthing of such a wicked past.

He craves you, he kisses you again.

When your mouth touches his, it is like a blade glancing off metal—the darkness inside him briefly lights up with violence and rage before the emptiness comes flooding in like a black lake—you see it in his eyes.

“Let’s get inside '' he hears your whisper and he reaches up to stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers. He might be lust-intoxicated, but he always cares.

Tonight, you have successfully deflected his attention from the gloomy thoughts and the contemplation of his past—his lust rushes, but his love makes him wait.

His love lasted for decades—will last for a lifetime.

Awash with trepidation, you two manage to get into the apartment, but the moment you lock the door—your back is against the wall again.

All those desires Bucky has felt in passing have culminated, growing deeper, hungrier, darker—he can do whatever he wants with you.

That through alone causes trouble below his belt.

He pulls his shirt over his head, the sight of his sculpted muscles, crisscrossed with countless scars. They have the strange power to remind you both that the past is real.

Bucky’s hands languidly roam the curves and valleys of your body as his kisses became sensual, slow and deep. There is such a luster in his eyes that you have to look away, but when you look back at him, his gaze hasn’t moved, still focused on your face.

Then he shifts his mouth to your neck for a hard love-bite that makes you cry out— the need to possess you, to claim you, he never did that before.

But even though you feel his erection stir as you press your hips against his, he doesn't attempt to resume the lovemaking in full, he catches you around your slender waist again and brings you close to whisper teasingly in your ear

“Ты - моя, слышишь?”

You begin to feel a familiar wetness form between your legs.

“Bucky,” you call out, impatient with desire.

But that exact position triggers so much delight, of the heated memory—he has all the time in the world, not as the last time.

He kisses you like he has forgotten how your mouth tastes—with a curious childish delight, kisses like wants to take you dancing.

As you pull apart, you remove your own shirt and his teeth scraping down the skin of your neck, his hands sliding around back to remove your bra, tossing it aside.

His right hand makes its way up, passing over a mark left by a bullet—your cheeks heat, and your breath hitches, but you can’t look away, you follow his hand with your eyes.

“I was not there when you got shot” he says as his fingertip skims the top of your breasts “When was that?” he uses the vibranium arm to lift one of the long locks of your hair to his lips and inhales the scent.

“It doesn’t matter”

And maybe you are right, but it stands as a reminder yet again of how you too escaped death's touch before. It was almost...normal for you back then.

Bucky takes a breast into his mouth to suck at it vigorously as you shiver in his grasp, the metal hand sides down to your waist to keep you against the wall.

You let out a small moan as you feel his hardness tighten and press even more insistently against you.

You worm your hands between your bodies, opening his jeans, freeing his length from the confines of his boxer-briefs, then reaching in to caress it and he burying his face in your neck to stifle his groan.

Bucky shudders when when you take him in your hand, stroking him painfully slowly. He allows it for several moments before hiking up the skirt of your dress to quickly tear your damp underwear.

He rubs a hand down your leg, fingers curling behind your knee and pulls it to his hip.

You instinctively jump, he catches you, abandoning his attempts of fingering you in favor of grabbing your hips, and you moan as you wrap your legs around his waist.

He loves you.

He loves you because nature wills it as it did for decades.

Because you are already long united by the past.

The bare flesh on every part of you always belonged to him, the scent emitting from your skin is his—he loves you, but he doesn't dare tell you that.

You have become Bucky’s favorite hiding place over the past year, the place he put every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, you keep him safe.

You have possessed him—and you never knew it.

He has been dependent on exactly how close he can have you next to him, how long he can get to stay at your apartment—making various excuses every time until you suggested to him to move in with you two months ago.

“Bucky,”

you tighten your legs around his waist, urging him to continue, running your hands over his shoulders.

Your voice pulls him out of what was ravaging in his mind, all those thoughts, but then he kisses as he roughly inserted his cock with no warning, you let out a surprised gasp as his forehead falls to your shoulder, bracing his hands on your hips and pressing you against the wall more firmly when he bottoms out, moaning shamelessly at the feeling of your body against him.

You are made for him, made for fucking.

“I love biting you, I need it” his voice is brittle, not saying anything else.

You stare like he is something you can’t comprehend, something unexpected – willingly admitting.

Your fingers thread gently through his hair and you can’t help, but hang your jaw in bewilderment at the sight before—he is falling apart from the need to claim you, to reach the white-hot ecstasy. 

You have never seen him like that.

He bites his way along your jaw to the base of your throat. His mouth is hard and punishing, lathering your skin with marks—ferocity burns in his gaze promising something primal—thrusting into you wildly, trying to elongate your pleasure for as long as possible, but suddenly he is choking on moans as waves of climatic bliss are sent throughout his body.

This is about him, not you, this is what he needs.

This night you learn about his jealousy, it has you starving to learn more about this side of him. A new hunger that you know you will satisfy only with time.

His steel blue eyes hide a nearly irresistible urge to claim you—it’s hard for Bucky to control it when the incurable desolation of Winter exaggerates in displaying old emotions.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Lovers Say Goodbye | 5 - B.Barnes

Character: soft!dark Bucky x ex-girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky finds solace and love in an unexpected place, only to have his world shattered by a shocking revelation about the person he cared about.

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3, Chap 4, Chap 5, -

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'd love to read all your comments. Thank you once again.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

The car's interior felt like a tomb. The air hung heavy and frigid, starkly contrasting the heat throbbing in your side. The three agents, faces in pale masks under the harsh overhead light, tried desperately to maintain an air of composure. Beads of sweat trickled down their temples, betraying the growing unease that gnawed at them.

"I took my job seriously," you said, leaning back in the plush seat, a predatory glint in your otherwise dull eyes.

"Chopping the body into smaller pieces wasn't just about convenience," you continued, a cruel amusement twisting your lips. "It minimized the amount of soil needed. A smaller hole meant less suspicion."

You spoke as if describing a recipe, a terrifying calm replacing the pain that should have been etched on your face.

Your words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. The young agent in the passenger seat swallowed audibly, his Adam's apple bobbing like a frantic fish. The driver's knuckles tightened around the steering wheel, his grip white-knuckled against the worn leather.

"And using the remains… well, let's just say the human body has surprising properties," you continued, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Compost of that nature makes for phenomenal fertilizer. That's why the roses in my shop always bloomed so spectacularly.

A collective shiver wracked the agents. The image you painted, of your idyllic flower shop fueled by a dark secret, was enough to curdle their blood. The line between professional and psychopath had blurred beyond recognition.

The quiet, unassuming agent they'd been tasked with escorting was a monster in disguise, and they were trapped in a moving steel cage with her.

They heard Agent ODIN is scary, but not this psycho.

"Most of the bodies I handled belonged to double agents," you mused, your gaze flickering to each agent in turn, a challenge in your eyes.

"Director Brandon always got his hands dirty through me, the silent cleaner. Now, after two years of his ungrateful service, he wants to dispose of me?"

The question hung in the air, a dark accusation that sent a fresh wave of terror through the agents. They were no longer just transporting an injured colleague; they were transporting a ticking time bomb, a weapon potentially more dangerous than any they'd ever encountered.

You leaned back deeper into the plush seat, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. With a calculated movement, you crossed your arms, the gesture chillingly casual in the face of the horrifying confession you'd just delivered.

"So," your voice dropped to a low purr, "let me get this straight. You were sent to babysit me, not protect me." Your gaze flickered from one agent to the other, each flinching under your unnerving scrutiny.

The young agent in the passenger seat finally snapped. Fear had morphed into a desperate defiance. With a trembling hand, he whipped out his gun, pointing it straight at you.

"Don't move!" he barked, his voice cracking with a mix of terror and bravado. "We only follow orders."

You, however, remained undeterred. You'd anticipated this reaction, the hollowness of their previous assurances echoing in your mind. A heavy sigh escaped your lips, a theatrical display of disappointment.

"Three of you against one," you mused, your voice laced with a hint of regret. "Such a shame. Didn't you learn basic protocol? Always restrain high-risk assets, especially after they casually confess to serial disposal."

The young agent's face contorted in confusion, the trigger finger hovering uselessly above the gun. In that split second, you capitalized on his bewildered state.

With a lightning-fast flick of your wrist, you whipped out a small syringe from your pocket, the needle glinting ominously under the car's harsh light. It was a practiced movement, born from years of operating in the shadows.

"Because," you explained with a chilling smile, "right before you so rudely interrupted, I injected you both with a little… persuasion."

A wave of panic washed over the two side agents. Their skin flushed an unnatural red, a prickling sensation spreading across their bodies. Their breaths became shallow, gasps escaping their lips. The fear in their eyes was a stark contrast to the bravado they'd displayed moments ago.

You didn't waste another glance on their agonizing contortions. Instead, you turned your icy gaze to the driver, his grip now slack on the steering wheel. The fear was a tangible thing hanging heavy in the air.

"Let me out of the car," you commanded, your voice laced with a deadly calm. "And perhaps I'll consider letting you take your friends to the hospital."

The driver, paralyzed by a mix of fear and the poison's effects, could only nod dumbly. You offered him a small, humorless smile, a chilling promise of freedom hanging in the stagnant air.

A cold dread snaked its way down the driver's spine. The chilling words of their orders echoed in his head: "Make her gone, or I will wipe you and your family from this earth." He cast a terrified glance at you, your calm demeanor a terrifying counterpoint to the chaos within him.

"I'm sorry, Agent L/N," he choked out, his voice thick with a mix of fear and morbid defiance. "Let's die together."

Before you could react, the engine roared to life. The car lurched forward, accelerating at a terrifying speed. You swore under your breath, the truth sinking in like a lead weight. They weren't going to the safe house; they were eliminating you.

Panic surged through you for a fleeting moment, a stark contrast to the carefully crafted facade you'd presented. You lunged for the door handle, ripping it open just as the driver steered the car towards the looming darkness at the edge of the cliff.

With a sickening lurch, the car plunged off the cliff face. You managed to throw yourself out of the car at the last possible second, rolling across the hard ground as the vehicle exploded into a fireball below, a final, fiery testament to their desperate attempt.

Shoving yourself upright, you winced at the renewed ache in your side, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away. You gazed at the smoldering wreckage below, a dark humor twisting your lips.

"Tsk," you clicked your tongue, a sardonic sound that echoed in the stillness of the night. "Is this how they repay loyalty?"

You surveyed your surroundings, a cool night breeze whipping at your hair. You were alone, stranded on a deserted road with a body – well, at least the agents thought it was a body – to your name. A laugh escaped your lips, a dark sound that echoed in the stillness.

"Going back might be a slight problem," you mused, resting your hands on your hips.

The truth is, you never came here. The story you told the agents before was a lie. You just wanted to scare them. And you didn't inject the other two agents with poison. It's just a thin pick that you always bring if you get locked up.

You never intended for them to believe you were a deranged murderer, just someone they couldn't control.

But the satisfaction of manipulation was short-lived. Now, you were stranded in the middle of nowhere, with a very real problem: how to get back to civilization without blowing your cover.

You scratched your head in mock frustration, the throbbing pain in your side a dull counterpoint to the burning adrenaline. "Do I have to walk all the way down?" you muttered, gazing at the long stretch of deserted road leading back to civilization.

As if summoned by your thoughts, a low rumble echoed in the distance, growing louder by the second. A pair of headlights cut through the darkness, momentarily blinding you as they drew closer. A sleek black sports car screeched to a halt beside you, the engine purring like a caged beast.

The driver's side window rolled down, revealing a face you both expected and didn't. Bucky Barnes, his expression a chilling mix of amusement and something akin to grudging respect, stared at you.

"Need a lift, sweetheart?" he drawled, the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes.

You forced a strained smile and managed to mutter, "No thanks. I'll just jump," though the words felt heavy on your tongue.

Bucky chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine, causing your shoulders to tense involuntarily.

"How does it feel to be betrayed by someone you trust?" he asked, his voice laced with bitterness, his eyes piercing into yours, searching for a reaction.

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[sj-ficrecs]

1,000+ followers fic rec!

Recently noticed at some point a little while ago I passed 1,000 followers on this page! In honor of that here’s another fic rec of some good ones I’ve been reading lately. As usual, no specific order. 

PREVIOUS FIC RECS HERE!

(Hopefully this shows up in tags bc my last one didn’t & tumblr wouldn’t fix it) 

Thanks to @whimsicalrogers for this divider I’m using below :)

Bucky x reader:

3B by @softlybarnes Bucky x reader

“Bucky is used to being alone, so is the girl living in apartment 3B. He keeps to his routine, to crossing off amends. But mutual loneliness forges an unlikely friendship. Alone and reclusive, sweet and incredibly strange, with deep secrets and regrets, 3B has more to reveal than meets the eye.”

(un)cool by @belowva rockstar!Bucky x reader

“in the summer of 1973, after covering the howling commandos’ concert for a night, you - a young and inexperienced music journalist - accidentally end up following the up and coming band from new york city across the country. between shows, parties, backstage nonsense, interviews and failed attempts at writing a cover story for rolling stone magazine, you end up developing a love/hate relationship with their brooding, but devilishly handsome, guitarist james “call me bucky” barnes. (based on “almost famous”)”

Your Song by @summergrls​  Rockstar!Bucky x reader

“it’s not summer without you. or, that’s what your favorite rockstar always says. it’s all happening.”

Last Love by @wicked-mind Modern!Bucky x reader

“Based on the quote “He may be your first love but I intend to be your last” by Klaus Mikaelson.”

Remember Me by @wicked-mind​ Modern!Bucky x reader

“Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones?”

Cake by @tellmealovestory (Part of the Something More universe) Modern!Bucky x reader

“The wedding plans continue as you and Bucky try to decide on a cake flavor.”

My Eyes by @invisibleanonymousmonsters Bucky x reader, past Steve x reader

“Steve is a good man, America’s golden boy, a hero. He’s Captain America for christ’s sake! So it’s normal to want what he has… right? Bucky knows he doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t even deserve the second chance at life he’s been given. But Bucky can never let him know. Steve can never find out that his friend is in love with his best girl.”

The Mess by @sanguineterrain​ Bucky x Avenger!reader

“A wild night in Vegas changes everything between you and Bucky. Suddenly, all eyes are on you and you’re left wondering just how much can change between you and a man whose guts you hate (and who also hates yours).”

The Devil Has Lilith by @write-orflight Bucky x reader, soulmate AU

“They say your soulmate is supposed to be the one person you love unconditionally. So why did they make yours so insufferable?”

College!Bucky series / Couldn’t Be Me by @drunken-imagines College!Bucky x reader

Bucky is a known fuck boy trying to win over reader

Best of Friends by @anna-phora Modern!Bucky x reader

“When your best friend steals marries Bucky’s best friend, the two of you are left with only one solution: to become best friends yourselves.”

Back to You by @celestialbarnes Modern!ex-Bucky x reader

“desperate to find a place to stay after your boyfriend cheated on you, you end up crashing at bucky’s apartment, the problem is he’s the ex that you never really got over and he’s got a new girl who doesn’t like you very much.”

It’s Been a Long, Long Time by @luminnara Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

“When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back…and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!“

Friends Don’t by @watchtowerindistress Bucky x reader

“Reader is in a friends-with-benefits relationship with Bucky Barnes. Rule #1: no feelings - so don’t get attached (written by Bucky). Rule #2: don’t ever stay over (written by (Y/N)). After a fateful mission, one of them is going to break all the rules.”

Just a Touch by @buckychrist Bucky x reader

“Your powers? Controlling any feeling a human can have, from emotions to pain, with a simple brush of your fingertips. Your mission? The traumatized soldier with sad stricken eyes and scream filled nightmares.”

Under Pastel Skies by @redgillan Modern!Bucky x Artist!reader

“Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.”

A Long Ways Away by @ai-unknown Bucky x reader

“Connection, reconnection, and a small miscommunication. Bucky will travel however far, if it means making you smile.”

No Rest for the Wicked by @abovethesmokestacks Trucker!Bucky x reader

Based upon this ask: “i have the absolute weirdest urge today to get railed by trucker!bucky in a motel in like southern florida🤨 and it’s late too, maybe 3-4 am. the place is kinda seedy & it’s rlly humid and hot outside & the ac barely works so we’d both be sweating a lot but it makes it hotter”

Meanwhile in Louisiana by @multifandomwriter Bucky x reader

“You are Sam’s best friend and you meet Bucky when Sam organizes a party down at the docks.”

A Tender Heart by @river-soul Alpha!Bucky x Omega!reader

“You’ve been sweet on Bucky since you started working at the compound six months ago. Normally quiet and mild mannered, an unexpected fight with a coworker brings Bucky into your orbit.”

Steve x reader:

Jane Doe by @justkending Modern!Steve x reader

“They weren’t next door neighbors, but they did live in the same apartment complex. However, they were on completely different sides of the complex. Steve always sees her across the way doing her daily routines and way about life on her balcony from his own. Something about her has him checking in on her from across the way when he can… She’s intriguing and has a way about her life that he finds calming and captivating. He wants to know more about who she is, but there’s no non-creepy way of approaching a neighbor that doesn’t know you exist. Is there?”

[the--sad--hatter]

Steam - Chapter 1 (Loki x Reader)

Warnings - Loki, Smut, Violence & Gore, Swearing, Death, Angst, Dark Humour, Crack Humour, Shenanigan’s, Mutual Pining

Pairing - Loki X Reader (Slow Burn Romance), Enemies to Frenemies to Idiots in Love

Reader Description - Female, No physical descriptions, Only referred to by nicknames & Petnames (No use of Y/N)

Description/Blurb -

“So how’d you get the firepower? What’s your origin story?” Stark asked, peering at you curiously.

“Uh, this is my origin story…” You winced, sighing when he motioned for you to elaborate, “I got these powers about three days ago.”

It’s a tale as old as time, boy meets girl, boy tries to invade girls mind, girl sets boy on fire, boy turns into angry blue boy, they become sworn enemies.

When you suddenly become imbued with a power you have no idea how to control, Nick Fury picks you up and dumps you on The Avengers doorstep, deciding that they are best people to turn you from a wacky novice into a force to be reckoned with.

The power burning inside you has the potential to make you a hero, or destroy you completely, but your new fire based abilities are more than they appear, and in a stroke of spectacularly bad luck, The God of Mischief is the most qualified teacher to mentor you. With Loki guiding you, will you ever learn to control your power? Will you ever make it as an Avenger? Or will you crash and burn?

Only one thing is absolutely certain, when fire and ice collide, things are bound to get… steamy!

Chapter One - Ice Breaker

It was every bit as imposing as you’d imagined it would be, not that you’d ever imagined seeing it under these circumstances.

 “Are you coming?” Fury barked at you, breaking you out of your slack-jawed awe.

 You snapped your mouth closed and tore your eyes away from the legendary tower, looking at the doors where Fury was impatiently waiting for you.

 “Coming!” You squeaked, scurrying over to him, “It’s just when you said you were taking me somewhere where I could safely learn to control my powers, I was sort of picturing an underground bunker in the desert, not the freaking Avengers Tower!”

 “I utilise the assets I have, why would I send you away when I have a team of perfectly capable super-powered individuals?” He asked wryly, leading you across the lobby and straight past the security teams who did nothing to stop you both as you made your way into an elevator.

 “I’m just saying, a heads up would have been nice.” You muttered petulantly, crossing your arms over your chest and tucking your hands out of sight.

 You felt him look at you and studiously refused to meet his eye, staring instead at the numbers above the door as you were carried all the way to the top of the Tower.

 “Heads up, you’re meeting The Avengers.” He shot back.

You could say what you liked about the former director of Shield, he was true to his word, because the elevator doors wooshed open to reveal a waiting crowd of Avengers, all of them staring at the man next to you with varying levels of annoyance and/or distrust. You diligently pattered after Fury as he stepped forward to greet them, looking around the room reverently.

 The first person you laid eyes on was Tony Stark, Iron Man; the billionaire who had kicked off the modern age of hero’s, and next to him, Captain America, the first of the first, the OG Superhero. Stood behind the Captain was Sam Wilson, the Falcon and a personal favourite of yours, side by side with Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Soldier and poster-child for taking back control of your own fate. Clint Barton aka Hawkeye and the deadliest marksman in the world stood to the side with the Black Widow, deadliest person in the world full stop. In the back of the room two other figures were hanging back, emitting two very different aura’s. Doctor Bruce Banner eyed Fury with trepadition, and well-placed mistrust.

 It was the last person in the room that the majority of your attention was reserved for, the tall, imposing god who skulked in the shadows. Contempt and boredom radiated from him, and you couldn’t safely say it was directed purely at Fury. He was also the only one who spared you more than a cursory glance, and you slowed to a stop as you found yourself trapped in his curious gaze. You stared back, trying to reconcile the villain who once tried to subjugate the planet with the one you were locking eyes with. It had been months since he had joined the Avengers, but it never stopped being strange to see him standing with them whenever you watched footage of them taking on whatever bad guy of the week they were battling. However, he had been fully cleared of any wrongdoing in the battle of New York, apparently he had been mind-controlled. As to why he was helping the Avengers, nobody really knew.  

 Someone cleared their throat loudly and you forced yourself to look away from the stupendously tall god, glancing around the room to see that you now had all eyes watching you expectantly. Apparently you’d zoned out for the introductions.

 “’Sup?” You offered, waving in Tony Starks general direction.

 “So you’re Fury’s fiery friend, what has that got to do with us?” Stark sighed.

 “What, you think he bothered to explain his reasoning to me before dragging my ass up here?” You scoffed.

 “She’s here because she has abilities, abilities that she is more likely to learn to handle among similarly gifted people.” Fury explained in a tone that brokered no argument.

 Naturally, The Avengers argued.

 “We don’t have anybody with fire abilities.” You heard Natasha Romanoff point out, just before you took the opportunity to zone out again.

 You were absolutely certain that nobody cared very much what your opinion on the matter was, thankfully. You weren’t sure you had an opinion on the matter. It wasn’t like you had a lot of experience with these kinds of issues, and as far as you were away there wasn’t some superhero academy that you could enrol yourself in. Besides, you were much more interested in re-instating your staring competition with the god of Mischief.

 In the brief time you’d been distracted, he’d stepped away from the shadows and moved closer to you, staring at you with his arms crossed.

 You resisted the urge to inhale deeply, who knew ex-murderous gods would smell so nice? You looked up, and then up again.

 “How tall are you?” You asked incredulously.

 His gaze flickered down at you impassively, while you stared back and tried to mentally calculate his height.

 “I’m a Frost Giant.” He stated coldly.

 “Oh in that case, you’re kinda short.” You scoffed.

 You were flooded with immediate remorse but it was drowned out by amusement.

 “I beg your pardon?” He demanded, uncrossing his arms and stepping into your personal space.

 “Down boy.” Iron Man sniggered, stepping between you. “So how’d you get the firepower? What’s your origin story?” Stark asked, peering at you curiously.

 “Uh, this is my origin story…” You winced, sighing when he motioned for you to elaborate, “I got these powers about three days ago.”

 “So you’re a baby.” He stated matter-of-factly.

 “If I say yes does that mean I can just sit on the floor and cry until someone picks me up and holds me?” You asked, fully willing to give it a go.

 It had been three days since your life had literally gone up in flames, three days of pinning your arms at your sides, afraid to close your eyes, afraid to let your guard down for even a split second, afraid to allow yourself to feel even an iota of emotion.

 “So how did it happen?” The Captain asked firmly, getting the conversation back on track before you could find out if anyone would volunteer a hug.

 “I, well, I kind of…” You trailed off and looked at Fury for help, but he just stared back at you, the bastard.

 All eyes were on you as they waited for you to explain, nobody offering any kind of help. You exhaled forcefully and slumped your shoulders, tucking your chin so you didn’t have to look at them anymore.

 “I ate a bomb.” You whispered.

 There was a very long beat of silence before it was broken by several voices all at once.

 “I’m sorry, what?” Stark demanded.

 “What did it taste like?” The archer wondered, looking at you almost giddily.

 “She didn’t eat a bomb.” Fury finally stepped in to clarify, “She absorbed the blast, after failing to defuse it.”

 “Why was a civilian defusing a bomb in the first place?” Captain Rogers asked sharply, glancing at you in concern before turning back to Fury with a hard expression.

 “I’m not a civilian, I’m actually an Agent.” You reasoned.

 “She’s an Agent-In-Training.” Fury rebutted. “It was her first mission in the field.”

 “Baby.” Stark reiterated, faking a cough and smirking at you when you scowled at him.

 That was true, and you still didn’t think it was entirely your fault that the bomb had gone off. Yes you’d failed to diffuse it, but you were supposed to be watching the perimeter when you’d stumbled across the explosive device. It had less than thirty seconds on the clock, and you’d stupidly chosen to spend those seconds trying to stop it detonating instead of running away.

 “And you put her on bomb duty? Were you trying to get her blown up?” The Black Widow demanded, and you almost laughed until you saw the serious expression on her face.

 “There wasn’t supposed to be a bomb there, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Fury shrugged, like it was inconsequential.

 To him it probably was.

 “She is still in the room, and I was exactly where you told me to be, when you told me to be there. If your intel was bad, that’s on you Mr Superspy.” You snapped.

 “Oh I see it now!” Stark briskly announced, “You’re trying to pawn her off on us because she’s too sassy for you.”

 “Precisely.” Fury admitted, surprisingly.

 “In the words of shortstack over there,” You hissed, gesturing at Loki “I beg your pardon?”

 “You don’t have the temperance to be an Agent.” Fury told you blankly, not bothering to soften the blow by at least telling you this in private instead of in front of the world greatest heroes.

 “I’d take that as a compliment.” Stark assured you.

 “You’re telling me I’m fired? Literally. Because I got blown up, through no fault of my own?” You huffed, clenching your firsts in an effort to keep your emotions from manifesting in a fiery inferno of rage.

 “Because you choose to try and handle a bomb you had no training to handle, instead of pursuing the target.” Fury amended, unphased by your distress.

 You bit back your retort because you knew it wouldn’t matter to him in the slightest. You couldn’t reason with him, couldn’t explain that you had made the choice not to pursue the target who’d planted the bomb, because you had to try and stop it exploding in a building filled with innocent people. Maybe Fury was right after all. Maybe you weren’t suited to being an Agent, because an Agent would have known that they couldn’t stop the bomb but they could stop the bomber. They would have let a hundred innocent people die and stopped the killer from killing a thousand more the next time. You weren’t an Agent because you’d chosen to die trying to save the hundred, and trusted in Fury and Hill to take down the Bomber.

 Of course, that wasn’t what had happened, and in the end nobody had died.

 “None of this explains how you ‘ate’ the bomb.” Clint Barton pointed out, and it was a good observation.

 “That’s because we don’t have an explanation. She went through the standard medical tests in her training, and all her bloodwork and scans indicated she was fully human. She walked into that building as a human being, and walked back out after absorbing a bomb, as who the hell knows what.”

 “So you’ve never done anything like this before?” Dr Banner asked you, speaking directly to you for the first time.

 “Not even remotely. I mean my eyes water when I eat chilli.” You shrugged.

 “Fascinating.” Banner muttered. “Inhuman?” He asked, turning to Stark.

 “Unlikely, she would have probably noticed going through Terragenesis.” Stark responded. “Mutant?” He shot back.

 “No, the mutant gene would have shown up in testing.” Dr Banner sighed, looking you over with a scientifically calculating eye. “Can you explain what happened in more detail?”

 “Sure, bomb went boom, I went AHHHHHH, and then it was all bright and hot and then the boom went away.” You told them.

 “So how do we know that it was you? What if something else contained the blast?” Someone asked, and you looked around before you finally realised it was Sam Wilson who had spoken.

 “No, it was… it definitely me.” You sighed.

 “How do you know?” Bucky Barnes interjected, backing up the Falcons line of questioning.

 That was the million dollar question. How could you be sure that you had anything to do with the bomb, that you had been imbued with fire power?

 “During the post-mission de-brief, there was an incident.” You alluded, side-eying Fury and taking a not-so-subtle step away from him.

 “Please tell me you tried to set him on fire?” Barton asked giddily, looking between you and your former boss.

 When Fury levelled you with a glare and you developed a sudden vested in the ceiling, the Archer sniggered joyfully. You chanced a look around the room and saw that Barton wasn’t the only one exhibiting mirth at the idea of Fury being set ablaze by your.. well, your fury.

 “He was yelling at me!” You defended, taking yet another step back when his glare intensified.

 “You’re lucky you had no aim and only managed to set fire to the table.” He snapped.

 “I think you were the lucky one.” Stark sniggered at Fury.

 “Do you want her or not?” Fury sighed.

 “Do I get a say in this?” You objected.

 “No.” Fury, Stark, Romanoff, and Loki said in unison.

 “I can run some tests to figure out what happened to you, if it’s reversible.” Banner offered comfortingly. “With your permission of course.”

 “I’m gonna go stand over there with him.” You huffed, making a beeline for the doctor and awkwardly hiding behind him.

 “Yeah, we’ll take her, should be an interesting riddle to solve.” Stark shrugged.

 Captain Rogers and his buddies glanced at you before appearing to have a silent conversation.

 “She can stay here while Stark and Banner figure out what happened, and we can go from there.” The Captain finally decided.

 “We’ll take good care of her.” Loki added with a charming smile.

 His eyes said something completely different, and you had a sick feeling that you were going to be made to pay for your short jokes.

 “Glad I meet your approval; I was worried I was going to fall short.” You sarked, immediately resisting the urge to punch yourself in the face.

 “Approval has nothing to do with it. Of all The Avengers, who do you think will be responsible for testing your abilities? You would do well to remember that I am more than mischief and lies, I am the god of chaos and fire.” He warned you cockily, visibly delighting in the way your grin faltered.

 You shot a pleading look around the room, but nobody was refuting Loki’s claim. In fact, they were nodding thoughtfully, or in Stark’s case; shrugging apologetically at you. You turned back to Loki, ignoring the deep sense of foreboding in your stomach.

 “Well Fe-Fi-Fo-Fuck.”

I have been trying to get back into writing for so long, and this is my last attempt. If this doesn’t work then I am out of ideas. 

I know this is a boring start but I have been re-working and rewriting it for days and I can’t improve it. If you enjoyed any part of this, please do tell me! If you didn’t, then tell me that as well. Just give me any feedback at all, I’d appreciate it so so so so so much. 

For those of you unaware (especially on AO3), I haven’t been writing for a while because my estranged mother passed away and it brought up issues that needed to be dealt with, but all that is over with now. Thank you to everyone who sent supportive messages and was patient with me ❤

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[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Welcome To The Pack Masterlist

Welcome to the Pack- 6.6k Steve Rogers x Y/N. On the run from your old pack, you go to the North where a pack is strong and healthy. But will Alpha Steve allow you to join?

Full Moon Run- 7.6k Steve Rogers x Y/N. The full moon run is a bonding time for wolves. And Steve learns a bit more about some of what you had to deal with your old pack.

Build Up of Tension- 8.4k Steve Rogers x Y/N. Steve shows you around the Pack Territory, Buck follows the Tracker and Alpha Tony brings back Natasha to the pack.

Not Like I Needed That Bed- 10k Steve Rogers x Y/N. You go to Steve needing him in just about every sense of the word. You Heat fully hits and there is no controlling it. Bucky and Natasha find out more of Pierces doings. Warnings- Okay guys, shouldn’t have to tell you, but Smut. Readers in Heat, really what else can you expect from her and the Alpha? Female Receiving Oral. Two Prompts added for lielullabye Snow’s Five Hundred Challenge

Have To Get Them Back- 11.7k Alpha!Steve x You. Tony is being pressured by the council to share information about The Mountain Pack. Steve and You strengthen more of your bond, even though all the mayhem happening. Sam comes with news of an unwanted presence in the town nearby. Natasha has to get them out of Pierces hold, before it’s too late. Warnings- Smut, oral, some dominating attitude. Violence.

Till The End Of The Line- 8.4k Alpha!Steve x You. It’s the final showdown between Packs and Pierce isn’t going to just give in to Steve. You insist on going to, ask this is your fight just as much as anyone’s. Warnings- Violence.

To Wakanda- 7k. Alpha!Steve x You. You have been injected with an unknown substance, going into a coma like state and your wolf is unable to be found by the Alpha. Bruce is also at a loss, but there may be someone who can help. Warnings- Smut, use of needles, implied bad stuff from Brock, etc etc.

Not Lost-  8.5k Alpha Steve x You. You wake up, and your not in your northern home anymore, but deep in Wakanda, in the palace of T’Challa and under Shuri’s care with Steve and Natasha at your side. Can Shuri fix you? Bucky is about to head out with Clint, Wanda and Pietro to bring back who Brock and Alanna took, The White Wolf and his team are ready for the hunt. Warnings- Smut, bad words. It’s a softer chapter.

Sing My Song- Part One Part Two 13.8k Alpha Steve x You. Having you back makes the Alpha very happy, and has a hard time keeping his hands to himself. Which you don’t have any issues with that. Shuri continues her work with you, and making progress everyday, enough so Steve hopes to take you on a run through Wakanda. Bucky and his team are drawing in on Brock, but will they be able to take out the ex Alpha and his bitch for good? Warnings- Smut and Violence.

Sinking Fangs- 10.2k Alpha Steve x You. Things have settled back on Pack Lands. Over a month has passed since you and Steve returned from Wakanda and now there is just one last thing to deal with to put the ordeal of your time with the Pierce Pack to rest, deal with Council Member Ross. Brock now has a new asset on hand and gives a preview of how efficient he is. Warnings- Smut, Violence, Death

Return to The Pack Masterlist

[babyboibucky]

Babysitting Bucky - Part 1

Pairing: FATWS!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 856

Summary: You’ve been assigned by the government to keep an eye on the Winter Soldier to ensure that he was no longer a threat to the world.

A/N: My first Bucky fic! Wrote this more than a year ago but never posted because my previous tumblr was for a different fandom lol. Not new to the Marvel fandom but it’s my first time posting a Marvel fic! Let me know what y’all think, upcoming parts will definitely be longer.

MASTERLIST

-

ONE

You felt eyes on you as you walked inside the conference room of the new Avengers compound. Inside were none other than Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes, together with SHIELD Agent Sharon Carter and none other than Nick Fury. Judging from their stares, you already knew that Secretary Ross had already revealed the government’s plan for the trio.

Since the snap was reversed, the world had undergone a lot of changes, especially the government. They were now even stricter and more aggressive when it came to protecting their people despite the presence of the new Avengers.

Steve Rogers’ decision to pass Captain America’s mantle to Sam stirred debate all over the world, most especially within the US government. With Sam partnering up with HYDRA’s ex-asset, the government grew weary even more. Hence, your involvement with the Avengers from today onwards.

“We may have decided to pardon Barnes from his past...activities,” Secretary Ross said suggestively, throwing a meaningful glance at Bucky who merely responded with an icy glare.

“You’ve helped the Avengers deal with extraterrestrial events, helped take down HYDRA with your intel, but we can never be too sure.” He finished before turning to you and introducing you to the trio.

“She is under the US Secret Services and will be permanently joining your group in missions moving forward.”

Sam cleared his throat, “With all due respect, Secretary but don’t you think this a bit too much?” He asked and raised his brow in confusion.

“Even after what the Avengers have done to protect the world, you still don’t trust them.” Fury chuckled bitterly, shaking his head.

“With everything that happened, is there such thing as too much? Besides, we’re only here for Barnes.” The secretary responded with a smirk.

Sharon pushed herself up from her seat and came face to face with the secretary, “Bucky Barnes is not a threat. He’s done his recovery in Wakanda and was reassured that whatever HYDRA put in him is no longer there.” She convinced.

“It’s fine.” Bucky finally spoke up, glancing at you for a second before turning to Secretary Ross.

You had to admit, you felt bad for the guy. You’ve done your research on him, you’ve spent sleepless nights reading about this man and you felt like you knew enough. You knew enough to believe that indeed, he should no longer be feared. But this was your job and as much as you didn’t want to tag along the trio to prove something, you had to. You needed to.

“I’ve been pardoned and that’s all that matters.” Bucky said exasperatedly.

Sam and Sharon exchanged glances before letting out defeated sighs. Secretary Ross smiled with satisfaction; he always loved getting the final say in everything. You wanted to punch away the smug look on his face.

You never liked him in the first place.

“See? Barnes completely understands the situation.” He told Sam. “I’m assuming everyone is on the same page now?” He asked, turning to the three awaiting for their confirmation.

The three then turned to Fury, as if urging him to speak up and go against the government. Something he does usually. Which is why you saw how surprised and disappointed they were when Fury merely shrugged.

“Well?” Secretary Ross urged.

Finally, all three nodded, albeit half-heartedlyz Secretary Ross sealed the deal by having them sign the agreement papers.

“It’s a done deal, then.” He announced. “Make sure to include her in all meetings from now on.” He reminded the Avengers.

Sam nodded and looked at you, “Briefing tomorrow. 9am sharp. Unless you too will be staying here at the compound from now on?” He asked as a joke.

The look you gave Sam was already an answer in itself. You saw how Sam’s face fell at the assumption that you will be keeping an eye on them a little too close for comfort.

You merely shrugged, “Sorry, government’s orders.”

-

You walked Secretary Ross back to his car and faked a smile, “I’ll make sure to send the weekly reports on time.” You reassured.

Secretary Ross nodded, “Make it detailed. I want to know their every move.”

You furrowed your brows, “Their?”

The man nodded with a chuckle, “Barnes and Wilson.”

“I thought I only had to keep an eye on Barnes. I wasn’t informed that I had to watch over the new Captain too.” You clarified, crossing your arms over your chest.

Secretary Ross heaved out a sigh, “It’s top secret, agent. The government isn’t too keen on Wilson being the new Captain America.” And with that, he slid into the car.

Before instructing the driver, the secretary rolled down the windows. “If something seems off, you let me know. Agent, this is a very important matter and I can’t have you switching sides after hearing their sob stories.”

Was the secretary threatening you? It definitely sounded like a subtle threat. However, you nodded and gave the secretary your word.

You only agreed to check on Bucky’s mental state to ensure that he was 100% free from HYDRA. But to babysit the new Captain as well?

Hell, what was the government up to?

[buckybarnessunflower]

Domino Effect Part 7

Description: Bucky Barnes is Hydra's greatest asset, the world's top assassin. He never misses a target, but his latest mission involves YOU, the woman he loves, the woman with a broken heart because of him. You're on the run with your sister Natasha Romanoff, together you are the most feared Widow's, you know your ex will be the one sent to kill you and your sister. Will he do it?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Chapter Warnings: angst, violence, detailed descriptions of torture

Word Count: 2403

A/N: A new character appearance

Bucky stared unblinking as Steve drove across the border to Bulgaria to his safe house, you nestled in his arms and one hand still applying pressure to the wound on the back of your head. With each breath Bucky took he could smell the scent of your blood. Fear rolled through him constantly like waves in the ocean, he had never seen skin so pale and your lips once pink now a light shade of blue. Nat was constantly looking back and squeezing your hand to keep you from falling asleep, her heart still racing from the adrenaline rush of everything that had happened. Your eyes were half closed, your eyelids feeling too heavy to keep open.

Steve's training as a medic earlier in his career in the Army is what saved you, you had lost a lot of blood but not enough that you would have to go to the hospital. 

Steve gave you a high dose of morphine for the pain before he stitched and bandaged the wound on the back of your head, he removed the shrapnel from your skin and cleaned the wounds. Nat glared at him each time you whimpered or cried out when he dabbed alcohol on your broken skin.

-Later that day-

Bucky sat in your room by your bed in a hard wooden chair that was too small for his large frame as you slept peacefully from the pain meds Steve gave you. His thumb traced along each line on your palm and weaved between each knuckle before he clasped his hand with yours. He watched as a ghost of a smile lifted the corners of your lips as he brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen in your face. Your skin had returned to its normal shade and your lips were once again that beautiful rosy shade of pink.

 Steve and Nat stood outside the door talking, Bucky’s ears strained to hear their conversation.

"Let me call for reinforcement. Pierce won't stop until one of you are dead" Steve had said, wiping a stray tear from under Natasha's eyes as she looked away from where you slept. Her usual stone-like composure broke after almost losing you.

"No, that wasn't Pierce! He wouldn't have ordered a hit that messy. Trust me Steve it wasn't him, it couldn't have been. Rumlow was acting on his own with Zemo, Sharon, and Rollins." Nat said, hazel eyes narrowed to slits as she glared at the wall, trying to keep her emotions from spiraling out of control.

"You don't know that for sure Nat. Pierce would stop at nothing so that information doesn't get out. He could be getting desperate now" Steve tried to pull Nat in for a hug but she backed away. Concern swirled in the pools of blue in his eyes as they looked into Natasha’s red rimmed emerald green.“Nastasha-” he began, wanting nothing more than to protect her. 

"I know Pierce and I know he wasn't behind this. Rumlow works for Pierce but he has always been a unhinged psychopath. Pierce hasn't sent anyone after us ever since Bucky joined us" Nat said and Bucky could feel their eyes on him now.

His body was rigged and he felt his blood grow cold under their stare. Bucky’s other hand that wasn’t intertwined with yours curled tightly in a fist, his mind instantly going over every entry and exit in the house that he found as Steve took care of you earlier. 

Steve and Nat walked further down the hall, too far away for Bucky to hear without getting up to move closer. “Fuck” he whispered under his breath, he knew Nat’s lack of trust in him was only growing, making it more difficult to get the USB drive he needed.

-Night-

Steve had left before nightfall, beautiful pinks and oranges peeked through the clouds painting the sky. The trees swayed as a breeze blew, eggshell white curtains ruffling in the room making you shiver. Bucky stood from the chair he had been sitting in for the past few hours, his back popped as he stretched making him groan as he closed the window. He would wait until it was dark to make his escape, he knew he couldn’t return back to Pierce empty handed without being killed for failing his mission. He would have to rethink how he could steal the drive from Nat.

Bucky swallowed the lump forming in his throat as he looked to the star-filled night sky. It was time for him to leave but he was struggling with the growing battle of emotions deep in his chest at the thought of leaving you behind. Even unconscious you were good at making him feel emotions he had never felt before, he feared the power you held over him more than any weapon of torture Hydra had ever used on him.

He had never known love, had never known such a thing existed until you waltzed into his life. It was comical looking back at it now how scared he had been at the sudden overwhelming rush of emotions he felt after a long night spent in your bed.

Months ago when Pierce gave him his new mission he had treated it like any other one he had been given until he opened the file and saw you, his beautiful doll that still owned his heart. Knowing he was betraying you was causing him unimaginable pain, worse pain than the physical kind he felt when Pierce had men hold him down and break his bones when he made mistakes on missions.

He knew he was running out of time and he knew that Pierce was getting impatient. It had been years since his last punishment but he knew that is what would greet him when he finally returned to Pierce if the man didn’t order for him to be killed first.

Bucky froze when you moaned as you stretched out on the bed, your eyes fluttering open searching the room until your eyes met his. When you started to sit up he quickly stopped you, concern etched onto his face.

“Hey take it easy” he said walking over to your bed. Your mouth felt dry before Bucky raised a glass of water to your lips helping you take a sip. You could see regret swimming in the depths of his oceanic blue eyes as he watched you.

“You're leaving?” you asked, nodding over to a duffle bag in the room when Bucky looked confused.

“You need to go back to sleep,” he replied, avoiding the question.

You shook your head no and reached out a bandaged hand to his, welcoming the feel of the rough calluses on his palms.

“Stay please” you begged and Bucky felt his breath hitch in his chest surprised at your request.

“I can’t” was all he said, tugging on his hand for you to let go.

“Please Buck” you whispered and Bucky swore he could feel his heart begin to shatter as you looked at him.

“Okay i’ll stay just for tonight” he promised smiling when you smiled up at him, your features brightening instantly.

When Bucky went to sit back in the chair he had been occupying for the last several hours; prepared to sleep on it overnight, you shook your head and moved back in the bed, leaving space for him to lay down. 

“There’s plenty of room Bucky” you said softly.

This was a bad idea, he knew it was but he undressed until he had a shirt on and a pair of boxers before he laid down beside you. His body instantly relaxed at the feel of the mattress beneath him and the soft pillow beneath his head. 

Your eyes closed, feeling at peace but you could sense Bucky hesitating and without opening your eyes you could picture his muscles tensing.

“You can hold me Buck” you said, missing the look of surprise on his face. Bucky swallowed, God this was such a bad idea, he should get up now while he still had a chance and leave. While Bucky silently debated himself it seemed you were getting impatient as you lifted his arm and wrapped it around your torso. Your back was against his chest, your body forming against his perfectly like a glove. 

It felt good to have you in his arms again, even if it was for only one night. Sleep was something that never came easy for Bucky but with you nestled to his side sleep welcomed him like an old friend. He would have to deal with the consequences another day, for now he would let his heart have a moment of happiness.

-Russia-

Alexander Pierce was sitting behind his mahogany wood desk, tightly gripping a glass of scotch in his hand as he watched explosions go off in Romania.

“Mass casualties and injuries are being reported, police are currently investigating the bombings” A reporter said showing the destruction around her.

He was livid No he was beyond that. Rumlow had defied orders and was doing whatever the hell he wanted to do. Soldat was no longer wearing his wire and the more that he thought over things - more specifically what Rumlow had insinuatiaited before he decided to do things on his own made unbridled anger course through his veins. Somehow he had let a relationship bloom between you and Bucky before he could end it, it explained why you had unexpectedly started asking for solo missions before ultimately going rogue with Nat. 

Even though you and Nat were two of his best agents your insubordination made you replaceable. Soldat however, he was Pierce’s most prized possession, he had been groomed to follow commands and kill at a seconds notice earlier than anyone else. Soldat had no family, Hydra was his family, it was fucked up but it made him the perfect killing machine.

He would have to reprimand Soldat, remind him what happens with disobedience and show him that if he ever fell in love again what would happen. A small smirk lifted the corner of his wrinkled mouth when he realized the perfect person to call to help assist with Soldat’s failure. 

-Croatia-

A man woke up tied to a chair in an unknown location, his breath coming out quick and uneven as he tried to look around for clues but he was blindfolded.  His panic heightened as he heard a door open and close somewhere in the room. “Well well well you’ve finally awakened, I don’t normally do this but I do apologize for hitting you so hard but you were getting on my nerves whining so much” A deep voice spoke, no sincereness laced in his tone only his poorly contained amusement. 

The man in the chair was shivering from how scared he was, his mind trying to figure out how he got here in this situation but he couldn’t seem to remember anything.

“It’s rude not to speak when spoken to you fucking imbecile” the man with the deep voice said before he used a wrench to twist and pull at the man in the chair’s ear making him let out a blood curdling scream.

“Ah music to my ears” he said leaning down and swiftly removing the cloth over the other man's eyes.

The maniacal grin on the man’s face made him want to reel back but he was still tied to the chair. “Too soon on the ear joke”? He asked, his grin widening even more as he walked away with the bloody wrench in his hand.

“You’ve been stealing money from Hydra” he said and the man shook his head no, tears streaming down his face “No I promise I’m not, I swear I haven’t touched any of it” he pleaded but inside he knew the man in front of him wasn’t really listening to his begging. “Your mother must have never taught you manners, first you wouldn’t talk and now you’re interrupting me and I hate when people interrupt me” he finished while untying electrical cords. 

“I’m sorry” the man said, his voice now shaky.

“You must not know who I am so I'm going to elaborate for you. I’m Lloyd Hansen. I’m sure the name rings a few bells up there no matter how loose I knocked ‘em” Lloyd said grinning as he snapped the ends of the cords on the man's ears, chest, fingers, and toes.

All the color drained from the man’s face as the awful realization of who he was in front of hit him full force like a train.

“Lloyd I swear I haven’t stolen anything I swear please please don’t kill me” he begged, his chest felt tight, lungs burning like they weren’t filling with enough air.

“I don’t do first name basis” Lloyd said, smacking the controller of the wires on his hand making the man in the chair watch it with eyes wide with fright.

“I think it’s about time I teach you a lesson, some people can only learn by example so I’m going to turn this on for one minute and see if that straightens you up” he said flicking the switch on the remote. 

Electricity flowed through each cord to the man’s body, screams filled the room making Lloyd smile. His phone vibrated in his pocket, surprise etched on his features at seeing Pierce’s name flash across the screen.

“Boss, I'm almost finished with the man that was stealing money from Hydra,” he said, answering the call.

“I don’t care about that. You have a new mission. Soldat needs to be reminded who he belongs to and the two Widows with him need to be disposed of. They have something of mine, a drive that I sent Soldat to retrieve but it seems he’s in love with Y/n and is failing his mission.” Pierce said.

“No problem boss” Lloyd was already texting his men to get the jet ready.

“I know you won’t fail me Hansen. Also if you happen to find Rumlow, Zemo, Carter, and Rollins kill them too, I don’t care how just get it done. This has already taken long enough” with that he hung up.

During the call the man’s screams had stopped, looking over Lloyd could tell he was dead. “Oops I guess I lied. Sounds like I'll have a few more to play with” he said to himself before walking out to the jet.

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