#bucky x reader slow burn

[subwaysurf45]

She’s Not Mad

Summary: Bucky Barnes was a known people pleaser, it was second nature to him. After meeting you and getting close you both try to navigate his eternal stressed state, working together you try your best to tone down his obsessive ways. 

Words: 9k (if you’ve been wondering where I’ve been...)

Warnings: Bucky has mommy issues, mentions of oral sex, nudity, angst, fluff, college!bucky, slow burn

A/N: thanks for the patience! 

Masterlist

A Couple of Weeks Ago…

“So, you’re not a thing?” Bucky asked as he shoved his laptop and notebook back into his bag, grabbing the handle of his water bottle and choosing to carry it with him for the walk. 

The two boys were higher up in the rows of the lecture hall as they peered over the two girls talking to the professor. Steve had his eyes drilled into Natasha, the girl standing off to the side as her friend went over a question she had. 

“She told me she is still figuring out her feelings since her last serious relationship,” Steve sighed as he packed up as well, “and I told her I’d wait- apparently this guy’s parents had given their family engagement ring and everything.” 

Bucky pulled the corner of his lips out tight as they began to walk down the stairs, “who’s the other girl?” 

“The one that was just asking the question is Y/N,” Steve watched as both girls left the room, “good friends, met last year, live together now.” 

“She’s cute,” Bucky said purely, no smirk or innuendo.

********

You sat over your laptop in the library with both hands acting as a brim to cover your eyes from the people around you. Tears rolled down your face as you studied the practice question, you felt pathetic and you tried to sniffle as quietly as possible. If anyone saw you silently bawling you’d drop out, it was stupid enough already when the librarian walked over and dropped a tissue box off without saying a word. 

“What do you mean?” you whispered to the page for the hundredth time, hoping for some answer. 

You had done the homework, you went to the study groups, you even extended your prof's office hours because you wanted to make sure you were doing everything right. Yet here you were, sitting alone on a Friday night because you still can’t do the practice assignment. Quitting felt like the only option, it wasn’t like everything was going to click; it was too late. 

This was just going to become the thing that you could never do, simple as that. Sometimes there are subjects that no matter how hard you try, you don’t have the flair. It was a tough pill to swallow but you’d never be able to do any work if you’d continue to hold yourself to a high standard, it was a win to get the little things right, not the entire question. 

The idea of failing was new to you. The jump from high school to college was still something you never adapted to, you always expected nineties on everything and not the mindset that C’s get degrees. 

Trying to do the question was like beating a dead horse, you needed a break. You ran your hands over your face and leaned back in your chair, hearing pops from your back as you did so, until you were leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. When you looked straight you saw someone already staring at you. 

He had longer brown hair that hit his jawline, blue eyes that jumped out at you, and a very concerned look on his face. He was familiar but you didn’t know what it was from. 

“Are you Natasha’s friend?” The guy came up to your empty table. 

“Yeah?” You wiped away your tears, extremely confused as he pulled out the chair right beside you to sit at the eight sided table. 

“I’m good friends with Steve, I think the two of them have something going on- not important, but I kind of know you and I'd rather not leave someone I kinda know alone crying, so…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” you rolled your eyes and faced your computer again, “the absolute last thing I need is something watching me cry, alright?” your bottom lip wobbled as you kept your eyes away from his at all times. 

He was still staring at you, “come on,” he sighed and moved his hand to comfort you but thought otherwise, “I’m not going to laugh at you or run and tell everyone I know I saw a girl crying in the library- y’know what they’d say?” You could see him tilt his head, “they’d say what’s the big deal, haven’t we all?” 

You scoffed, “no they wouldn’t.” 

“You’re calling me a liar?” 

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Bucky,” he stuck out his hand, “Bucky Barnes.” You shook his hand, “and since I am a Barnes and was raised by my ma I simply can not let this continue, it’s my obligation to either cheer you up or take you home.” 

You scoffed again and tried your best to hide your smile, “and I’m Y/N, and in my family we stress about everything and never give up so I can’t leave until I get this question, so…”

Bucky’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he flipped the laptop to face him a little better, “this is the class all four of us have together, alright,” he read over the question and immediately furrowed his brows before looking at you again, trying your best to hold it together. He knew the answer but couldn’t bear to see your reaction, it was painfully obvious you were beating yourself stupid over these questions. 

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” he asked like he was talking to a child. 

“I barely know you, dude,” you crossed your arms and ripped your laptop back to face you, “and I’ll have you know I don’t need a man to come in here and explain everything to me, alright, I’m going to figure this out on my own and I don’t need you, okay? So just head home, tell Steve I say hi.” 

Bucky took a deep breath himself, “that question isn’t marked on the homework, the reason you can’t get the answer is because the way to get it has most likely not been taught yet,” he paused and saw your face crumble, “and I didn’t want to freak you out because you look like you’ve been here a while and you seem to be beating yourself up and I just couldn’t-”

“Stop,” you whispered and covered your face with your hands, “just stop talking.” 

And he did. 

Trying your best to calm your breaths, it didn’t work. So fucking stupid, unbelievable, there’s no way you just spent close to an hour staring at a problem you didn’t even have to do in the first place. 

“Can you walk me home?” you squeeked. 

“Of course,” Bucky stood up right away and started helping you pack your bag, “I have some water, do you want it?” He held up his water bottle. You nodded and began drinking as you both made your way outside and towards your off-campus house. 

“Did you need to study?” you asked as you screwed on the cap. 

Bucky laughed and looked up at the night sky, “I was going for a walk because I heard there was a blood moon tonight, and there is, look,” he point up and saw the red mood looming above both of you, “and I just happened to walk past the library, I looked in the window and recognised your laptop as well as your hair, funny enough,” he laughed as he looked forward again. 

“So you just came in to see me?” you needed to make sure you were hearing this right, it’s not like it happens often. 

“I was going to introduce myself to you actually,” Bucky shrugged and looked over at you, “I know Steve and Nat are trying to figure things out and I thought friends of two people who might date should know one another. Then I saw you crying so I changed my game plan.”

You just nodded, slightly brushing into Bucky’s arm as you walked. It was hard to stay straight with the exhaustion taking over, every now and then you’d brush your knuckles past Bucky’s. He was a cute guy, and something about him being oh so caution around you made you feel important. 

“This is me,” you said later as you walked up the steps, “thanks Bucky, I hope we can be friends.” 

Bucky smiled and stood at the bottom of the steps, “if you ever get in your head again like that and need someone to pull you away, let me know- even in the middle of the night, alright?”

“Alright,” you laughed with your hand on the door handle. 

“I’m serious, Y/N. I look after the people close to me, I look after friends of friends like siblings,” there was no joking in his tone, it seemed other people doubted him on this promise. “I’ll give you my number,” he hand reached out for your phone. 

“I’ll be fine, you seemed to have good luck running into me,” you giggle and open the door to your house. Before it fully closed you felt resistance, looking over your shoulder you saw Bucky holding open your door. 

He was smiling, “then give me your number for another reason.” 

“Oh?” you turned and placed a hand on your chest, “you’re rather forward. 

“Well being cryptic didn’t work, did it?” He laughed and held out his hand again, “come on, I might need a study buddy one day- or even better, a lunch buddy.” you laughed as he tried to duck to meet your eyeline, “you don’t want to be my lunch buddy?”

“I’ll be your lunch buddy,” you giggled and handed him your phone, he wasted no time adding it in. “Goodnight,” you whispered and made it into your house, leaning back and resting against the door. You thought for a moment before breaking into a massive smile, replaying how he tried to keep eye contact with you. Or how he’d been so proud of how his mother raised him- “son of a bitch,” you whispered. 

He walked you back home and cheered you up. 

Just like he said he would. 

A Few Days Later…

Your phone must be hacked or something because your weather app said it would be completely clear today and sunny in the afternoon. As you sat in the cafe you thought it would clear up but it was only getting worse. 

All you needed to do was brave the rain and make your way home, but waiting for the perfect time when everything would let up for a moment was pointless. 

Walking as fast as you can with your head down, you saw your grey sweatpants become a darker shade instantly. It was a straight downpour with absolutely no sign of letting up, you swore you heard thunder when you waited at the crosswalk. Due to your phone lying to you, you had not brought a hooded article of clothing or umbrella so you just had to deal with everything going wrong. 

There definitely was thunder and the lightning was right above you, it seemed like you were the last person on Earth because everyone else was smart enough to stay inside right now; but not you. Down your little street you began to run, trying to get away from the lightning that was chasing you. 

If you could guess you’d say most people who had been struck by lightning most likely thought they were too far away, in denial as the sky opened up from above. It was hard to admit you were actually a little scared at that moment, rain getting in your eyes as you sprinted down to your house that was now in view. 

With your key at the ready you fell inside, slamming the door behind you. 

Natasha rounded the corner, “you idiot, I was trying to call you!” She screamed and saw your state, “Steve and Bucky are over-they drove over they could have picked you up,” Natasha got in your face to peel off the sweater, taking it off right over your head and leaving you in your bralette and those drenched sweatpants. 

“You took off my shirt when there’s boys here?” you whispered as you began to shake, covering your chest with crossed arms. 

“We guessed you were walking back so we put towels in the dryer,” as if on cue Bucky rounded the same corner with your fluffy towel ready, “thank you Bucky,” Natasha wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“Hi, Bucky,” you squeeked, “glad we keep meeting like this.”

Natasha had walked upstairs, most likely getting different pants. Bucky got down on one knee and slipped off your shoes, “like what?” he asked as he looked up, he reminded you of a little puppy somehow. He was as big as a great dane but there was an underlying softness that made you want to hug him or just let him wrap his arm around you. 

You huffed as you pulled the towel tighter, “when I’ve just done something embarrassing and you’re there to save the day.”

Bucky stood up with his arms crossed, “only you would think crying or getting caught in the rain is embarrassing,” he shook his head and reached out to rub your shoulder that was covered by the towel, “I like helping and I like making sure people I know are okay, you know this.”

“I do,” you whispered and walked further in your house. Before you could get anywhere near comfortable Natasha whisked you away to change your soggy pants as well as throw on a sweater, they had also been thrown in the drier, everything was very toasty and warm.

Steve was sitting on the couch, staring intensely at the football game going on. Natasha guided you back in and towards the couch. There was enough room for four of you but you knew thighs would be pressed up against one another, you were okay with that if Bucky was sitting beside you. Though you don’t see him often it was nice when you did even though you made it seem like it was embarrassing. Something about having someone who loves taking care of people take care of you so well caused you to crave it a little more. 

Bucky came around the couch with a mug, “hot chocolate for you,” he whispered and took the spot beside you, next to the arm rest. You thanked him and let your hand slightly burn on the mug when you held it, liking how the warmth began to spread up your arms. Natasha found her spot on the other side of you while Steve stayed on the edge, leaning forward and never looking away from the game. 

“This is really good,” you sipped it and whispered to Bucky, he just smiled and leaned into your side for a moment. 

“What were you working on?” he asked after a moment. 

“I was at the cafe for a little treat but before I was doing my elective course,” you spoke softly. It seemed like everything happened for a reason because you only got food at the cafe which left room for this hot chocolate now. 

“And that is?” Bucky giggled as he leaned forward again. 

“Art history,” suddenly, you were coy. Most people thought your elective was a bird course but to you it was actually interesting, it wasn’t often you were met with a positive response. 

His eyes got wide, “that’s sick!” Bucky readjusted himself off the couch, “I would have never even thought of that course, wow, that’s really cool. So, like, what do you-”

“Bucky, I love you, brother, I really do but-” Steve sighed, “can you please be quiet, this game is very important.” 

“I didn’t think the Big Game was on today?” you asked as you took another sip. 

“It’s not that,” Steve places his beer down, “it’s the State Cup Finals, it’s college football.” 

Natasha smiled and looked over, “his team’s the underdog and are actually on the road to winning the entire thing!” She giggled and linked an arm with Steve who was happy to cuddle up with her, “it’s actually very exciting once you learn the ins and outs of it.”

You just nodded and faced forward again, seeing Bucky out of the corner of your eyes rubbing his thumb on the neck of his beer bottle, staring off into space. The moment you leaned your head on his shoulder he looked over at you, your heart broke when you saw a sad smile. He was just trying to talk to you, he got excited for you and here he was being scolded. 

“Do you want to come look at some of my notes, or are you into this game?” you whispered and saw his eyes light up, both of you quickly stood and headed up stairs with your bag slung over your shoulder. 

The moment you walked into your room you felt everything slow down, Bucky slowly walked in and looked around. He was smiling to himself as he l took in your photos on the walls or posters, even your to do list seemingly growing on the white board you have mounted to one wall. 

You sat on the corner of your bed as he flipped through your notes, “so you’re, like, breaking down these paintings, it's not just the history of when they were painted?”

“Oh yeah,” you fiddled with the hem of your dry sweater, “most of these artist go insane and we look for that in the work or even just what was happening during the time with stuff that you’d learn in a normal history class but we look at if and when it get put into art,” this was your little thing you could talk about for ages, “very cool stuff.” 

Bucky nodded and flipped the pages, “your notes are amazing,” he whispered, “you’re a pretty good student, huh?” he looked over his shoulder and saw you sitting there, just staring at him as he made his way around your room. “What?” he giggled and made his way over to you, holding his hand out to get you to stand up. 

“Nothing,” you tucked your chin to your chest, getting coy at the attention. “You’re just…y’know, sweet.” 

Bucky just smiled and rubbed your arm, giggling as you both stared at one another for a moment. “Do you want to go back down?” 

“Sure,” you nodded and leaned forward, smiling as you both made your way back downstairs. 

The rain still worked its way down your windows as the beers and wine kept flowing. The game had ended a while ago but Steve and Bucky didn’t see a reason to leave, it was a good moment that no one wanted to end. You had finished your hot chocolate and moved onto wine, sipping it slowly as everyone talked. It was nice to be brought into this group even though it stemmed from Nat and Steve, there was good chemistry between the four of you. 

Talking to everyone was effortless, you didn’t need to act like someone else to fit in. no one was yelling over someone else to get their point across, there weren't any passive aggressive tones in anyone's jokes, it was carefree. It was relaxing to have people this easy to talk to. 

The only thing that wasn’t relaxing was the amount of times you caught Bucky staring at you. Everyone had migrated to the floor with their backs against different furniture so you could break out the board games, Bucky was sitting adjacent to you on your right and Steve adjacent on your left, Nat right in front. Every single move whether it be placing a card down or moving your little object around the board Bucky would find a reason to look at you. 

“Good one,” he’d pat your shoulder. 

“Let me move your piece for you,” he’d say before you could reach across the table. 

“Sorry…” he’d smile before taking your little object and moving it back four spots. 

He was very attentive, always watching and scanning. But the more you noticed it the more you figured out he was doing it to everyone, including Steve. Something happened whenever Bucky would either move Steve’s piece for him or go get another beer so he wouldn’t have to stand up, Steve would give this look. It seemed as though he was silently telling Bucky he knew something or he was pointing something out that had been a topic of conversation before. Bucky would try to laugh it off but Steve was very protective of Bucky, you just didn’t know why. 

The games had slowly come to a close, everyone not drunk but a little more than tipsy. Giggles flowed freely around the table as the conversation resumed again, your eyes were growing heavy as you traced the rim of your glass. 

“I’ll be back,” Bucky muttered as he headed to the washroom. 

The moment the door closed Steve sighed, “this kid.” 

“What?” you were getting protective, why was Steve about to talk shit about his best friend? 

Steve just shook his head, “It’s hard to see how badly Winnie fucked him up.” 

Your heart plummeted. Any tiredness had left your body faster than the little gasp escaped your lips. Who was this Winnie girl and why did he mess Bucky up? The thoughts circled your head, was he in an abusive relationship? Natasha looked like she didn’t know either, pouring more wine into her cup. 

When Bucky came back he sat closer to you and you couldn’t help but reach out and wrapped your arm around his. He must have been a little surprised but you rested your head on his shoulder and continued on like it was nothing. 

You were half asleep when Bucky tried to do something for Steve, maybe get him another beer but whatever it was it left Bucky looking like a sad puppy because Steve said, “Buck, relax, I can get my beers, thank you, but I got it, alright?”

Steve's tone was soft but also commanding, he wasn’t annoyed at all. With your eyes closed you pieced it together that Steve was trying to help Bucky in some way, maybe get him to relax a little more. It was out of love but Bucky was very quiet for the rest of the night. 

********

You and Bucky had started hanging out a lot more on your own. There were a lot of late night drives or study sessions, Bucky always came to the library to walk you home if you stayed late or had turned your brain into mush during your studying. 

What Steve had said stuck with you more than you thought it would, it didn’t impact how you saw Bucky but it made you more aware of his people pleasing tendencies. You wanted to do the same as Steve, tell him it was okay but you weren’t as close. You saw how hurt he was the last time and you just couldn’t do it to him. 

Currently you were both sitting on his bed, the movie was wrapping up. Half of his laptop sat on one thigh and the other half sat on Bucky’s, your arms were linked and there was a steady brushing of your thumb on his forearm. In all honesty, you thought you were lulling him to sleep when you looked up five minutes ago to see him fighting his dropping lids. 

When the movie faded to black both of you sat there for a moment, content with the sitcom that was coming up next. You looked up again to see him with his face scrunched up, his other hand was on his back. 

“What is it?” you asked and leaned over, he was rubbing a specific spot on his lower back with his thumb. 

Bucky held his breath as he leaned forward to move his hand, “I was working out this morning and there weren't any belts left for my deadlifts and I did something to my back.”

“Do you want a massage?” you offered, he’d do the same for you. 

“I’m okay, thanks,” he looked down at your head resting on his bicep. 

“I didn’t know you worked out,” you smiled, “you don’t have the, like, bodybuilder physique.”

Bucky laughed and wiped at his eyes, giggling to himself before answering. “I don’t want that look, but…” you could see the boast on the top of his tongue, he poked his tongue on the inside of his cheek. 

“Tell me!” you sat up, taking the laptop off your lap so you could fully face him now, “are you, like, ripped or something?” you both laughed as he hugged himself so you couldn’t feel or see anything, “you are, shut up!” you placed both hands on his shoulders, his face so red from laughing and embarrassment you just wanted to take a bite out of it. 

“Steve calls it a sleeper build,” Bucky managed to wheeze out, he was trying to play-fight you off of him. 

“What the fuck is that?!” you gasped as your hands reached out but he copied you and intertwined his fingers with yours. 

“It’s when someone has muscle but you can’t really see it in normal clothing,” his face was calming down as well, but that stupid smile was still on his face. “It just kinda happened, just how I am.”

You tried to move his arms around but you couldn’t, his fingers were still tightly woven with yours. You just laughed and fell back into him, cuddling up again. “I had a friend's mom who was an actual masseuse, so…” you shrugged, “I actually know what I’m doing because she’d give me massages and walk me through her process.”

“You just want to take my shirt off, don’t you?” Bucky taunted. 

“I want to make sure you’re not uncomfortable the entire time we hang out and for the rest of the week,” you giggled before snuggling into his arm again and watching the show that had come on randomly. 

It took three days before Bucky came back for that massage. 

You were hanging out again like normal and he was still trying to relieve the ache in his lower back. It was becoming sad to see him so uncomfortable so you kept reminding him of your excellent massage skills. After what you counted as his third groan of pain you just looked at him and soon enough he was asking you to turn around so he could take his shirt off and lie down. 

Choosing your angle to stand with your back to him was a science, you wanted to make sure you had the mirror to look at but you also didn’t want to make it obvious. Part of you hated yourself for wanting to catch and peek at his body but it was infamous now, you just had to look. 

And my god was it worth it. 

It wasn't an obnoxious amount of muscle that made it seem like the strength drained from his brain and into his arms. The sleeper build comment was right, you had no idea. His chest made you feel comfortable and protected, the kind of chest you’d want to fall into when the subway starts up too quick and you’re not holding onto anything. His arms were, and you already knew this, amazing at covering so much surface area for hugs. They were secure and trustworthy, you knew that when you hugged him he had you; it also helped to remember when he’d whisper it in your ear. 

“Okay,” his voice was muffled by pillows at the top of your bed. 

You turned around and were greeted by his back which was also an amazing sight, the kind of body sculptors would use and their go-to subject if no one else was there. “I have some lotion on my hands,” you warned and pressed your palms onto his back and quickly began spreading the lotion around. 

Though this wasn’t a proper table and he was resting on one cheek instead of face down you knew this was the best he’d get for a college kid. You started all over and slowly worked your way to focusing on his lower back. When you felt the knot you knew you found it, the thing was massive. The low groan Bucky let out was close to pornographic as you dug into him. 

Something about seeing him grip the sheets, making his veins pop out, did something to you. At first you only really saw Bucky as another friend or a good member of the friend group you stumbled your way into. But the more you spent one-on-one the more you realized he was your perfect guy. Any guy can be perfect physically but his personality enhanced your view for him, it made you appreciate his looks even more. 

His laugh always brought out the crinkle in his nose and those pretty teeth, the sound of him giggling was music to your ears and also was the perfect accompaniment to his squinted eyes or broad smile. The same with his little fist pumps he does when beating you at a game either around a group of friends of a video game, that stupid celebration he does every time causes him to flex his bicep but that’s secondary to the little circles he makes with his fist.  

You kept working away and looking at his rested face once in a while, seeing his eyes closed and the relieved look on his face. There was something so pure about watching the guy your slowly obsession over fall into simple relaxation all because of you, it was a treat. 

“How’s that?” you whisper, “Bucky?” trying to make sure your pressure wasn’t too hard for him you wanted to check in, but he had fallen asleep. With the opportunity in front of you, you reached out and placed your bent knuckles along his cheek, feeling the stubble tickle your fingers. 

You found him blanket on his bed and covered him up so he wouldn’t get cold with his shirt off, before leaving you placed a kiss on his forehead before heading downstairs for a snack. You also wanted to give him space, let him sleep peacefully. 

Steve was down there when you got there, another roommate of his cooking as you found Bucky’s section of snacks to choose from. 

“Where’s Bucky?” Steve asked as he looked over his shoulder, not for long due to the football playing on the TV. 

“Sleeping upstairs,” you ate the goldfish as you rounded the couch to watch the game. 

He seemed taken aback at your casualness, “what did you guys do…?” he slowly looked over, most likely trying to see if your hair was disheveled or anything was blossoming on your neck. 

“I gave him a massage,” you shrugged and fell back onto the couch, “his lower back has been killing from his workout a while ago.” 

You could see Steve look over his shoulder to see if his roommate was also hearing this, he looked over at you again and squinted. “So- and correct me if I’m wrong here- you gave Bucky a massage and put him to sleep and now you’re down here getting a snack?” 

“You would be correct,” you smiled, “would you like to do a once over of my neck for hickies or maybe rummage through the trash for condoms?” you sassed and plopped a few more goldfish in your mouth, “I was helping him.” 

That statement made Steve look over his shoulder again. The roommate just shrugged with a smile before heading down to his room in the basement, noodles steaming from the cup. You just looked at Steve as he tried to piece together everything, it was actually funny to see him try to understand. 

“Bucky doesn’t accept help from anyone,” Steve turned to face you, “it’s his thing to never want to be in debt with anyone when it comes to favours of any sort.” 

“Well,” you just sighed, “I’ve been picking up on that too but I got to him I guess, he let me do something for him.” That was all you could say because you didn’t have a full background of why Bucky didn’t accept help from anyone you just knew he didn’t; the only clues you had were Winnie and her role in this. 

“That’s good,” Steve quickly added, “I’m far from saying it’s bad, trust me, it’s just he’s been in a funk for a while when it comes to that stuff, it ebbs and flows.” 

“Do you think he’ll ever tell me?” you asked as you watched the game, too embarrassed of the question to look at Steve. It seemed there was this vital piece of information that made Bucky who he was that was dangling right in front of your face, you were falling for him but that thing that made him him was out of reach. When Steve first made the statement he siad that this Winnie girl fucked him up which implied something bad much have happened and that can also mean something isn’t necessarily right. You were never going to fix Bucky but you did want to understand so you could help be a better friend to him and not unconsciously get in the way of his mindset. 

Steve nodded, “he’ll definitely tell you,” he looked over and smiled, “I mean, you’re all he ever talks about, this kid is head over heels for you  it’s just…some guys have hard times coming to terms with their past, he’ll get there though.” 

“I know,” you nodded, “I’ll obviously never force it out but I do want him to be aware I’m here to listen, y’know?” 

“He knows,” Steve laughed and stood up, going to the cupboard and grabbing a little snack for himself as well. 

You took a deep breath before standing up and heading back upstairs, you were guessing Bucky was still fast asleep. When you opened the door you found him still laying on his bed in the exact same position, only now there was little snores coming from him. 

With a pout you crawled back onto the bed and sat next to him, placing your hand on his back and sliding it down to his arm that was bent up so his hands could rest under the pillow. Your thumb gently rubbed his arm for a moment before pulling out your phone and scrolling through it. 

The boredom ate away at you, instead of scrolling through your phone you went to his dresser to find some clothes you could change into so you could crawl under his sheets and sleep over. When you pulled open his top drawer you were met with his underwear and socks as well as a box of condoms tucked to the side, you just giggled to yourself at the painfully college male sight in front of you. 

Something about wearing his boxers made your face heat up, that was a level of intimacy you wanted to reach with him one day but you didn’t know if it was time. Looking over your shoulder after a particularly loud snore you smiled to yourself and picked up a black pair, as you held it up you remember seeing the waistband sticking out of his jeans while he reached above his head to grab something for someone - you weren’t focused on his actions at the time. 

Quickly slipping your pants off and pulling up the boxers you maneuvered to his closet, finding your favourite hoodie he wore very often. This moment of intimacy, moving around Bucky’s room while he wasn’t aware, caused a surge of confidence to shoot through you. Though you had never talked to Bucky about what the relationship between you was, you knew both of you could agree there was no room for girlfriends or boyfriends for either of you, this was the time to build the foundation for something better later. Having this idea of only being the girl in his room you took off your bralette and tucked it back in his top drawer, across from the condoms.

You didn’t choose this bra specifically but you were wearing a slightly lacey bralette, it was far from lingerie but the lace added something to it. Making sure you put it where it wouldn’t be obvious but also not hiding it, you grew giddy at the image of Bucky finding it. 

Before getting in his bed you tugged and tugged the sheets under his body before managing to get the covers fully out from under him. You scooted in and pulled the sheets up to cover both of you, it seemed he really needed the sleep because nothing was waking him up, not even the little hug you gave him before turning off the lights and falling asleep beside him. 

********

You were sitting in class aimlessly scrolling through your phone during your five minute break in your lesson, your art history professor was one of the best teachers you've ever had. She was funny but also well informed, she also had a big heart and didn’t need a eulogy as a form of proof if someone asked for an extension due to a funeral service that day. 

Bucky: What the hell is in my dresser? 

Without knowing the tone or context your heart dropped. You read the text with Bucky’s voice as if he was screaming at you, a hint of embarrassment in his tone. It was in your head, you didn’t know if it was a flirty tone either. 

You: Just my bra, when I stayed over a couple of nights ago I changed into your clothes and just absentmindedly put my bra in your top drawer. I probably was just going through the motions and thought I was at my place. 

Bucky: Can I pick you up from class, when does your lecture end?

Something about him completely disregarding your explanation - lie or not - gave you the worst feeling in the world. Ice poured down your back as you watched your prof make her way back up to the little stage she teaches on, you couldn’t keep the conversation going and just needed to deal with it later. 

You: sure, it ends in an hour. 

Bucky: I’ll be there. 

Part of you didn’t want to leave when your lecture was over, you stayed in the hallway for a moment and thought of every single end of the world situation that could happen in the car. Bucky didn’t seem like a guy who hit women but your anxiety didn’t let you leave out that thought. He also didn’t seem like the guy who’d reveal he’d been dating another girl the entire time but who knows, he could be in a three year long relationship as you stood there. 

With all these terrible situations playing out in your head you decided to face it head on, you’d walk in there and wouldn’t let him talk; just saying your apologies with your eyes closed before he could get a word out. 

You walked down the steps and to the right to find Bucky’s car parked in front, coming up in the blindspot. You took a moment to take a deep breath, opening the door and sitting down as quickly as possible. 

“Do you-”

“Bucky,” you put your hand out but kept your eyes casted down, “I am so unbelievably sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I don’t know if you already have a girlfriend and she found it and it caused a rift in your relationship, or if you like to sleep with other girls and one of them found the bra and got jealous so you lost your credit. I don’t know what made you angry but please, I am so sorry for what I did, I wasn’t thinking and I just put it in there and I-...” you just held your mouth open as you looked at the center console, you had run out of things to say. “Um,” you slowly looked up to see him frozen in shock, mouth still slightly open from when he began to say something, “sorry, you were about to say something?” 

Bucky had to physically rattle his head to get out of the shock he was in, “do you want to get some coffee?” 

Your eyes flicked up and it was your turn to stay frozen, “what?” 

Bucky pulled his brows together, “I was making a joke about the bra thing,” he seemed concerned at your extremely anxious state, “I don’t care what you leave at my place, I really don’t,” normally someone would laugh in awkward situations but Bucky didn’t, it felt like it made everything worse. “Do you want coffee?” 

“What is going on?” you couldn’t believe the situation you had put yourself in, nothing was making sense. 

“Don’t get all mad at me,” now it was time for him to scoff, “you’re the one that thought I was sleeping with multiple women while I’m actively pursuing you, you idiot.” 

“Don’t call me an idiot,” you huffed and faced the front of the car, crossing your arms after putting on your seatbelt. 

Bucky laughed as he reached over and turned your face so you’d look at him, “that’s what you took from that statement?” He giggled, “babe, I just said I was pursuing you, does that just fly over your head?” 

“Wait, what?” you grew more interested, “you want to date me?” 

Bucky nodded, “have I not made it obvious?” You just shrugged and began to feel small, curling yourself further into the seat of his car, “I would like to take you out and I would like to continue to collect little pieces of you at my place while doing the same to yours, does that make sense?” 

“Then what were those condoms for?” 

“The same reason our house keeps tampons in our main bathroom,” Bucky put the car in drive and began working towards to coffee shop, “if you ever need a tampon you go and grab one, if Steve ever needs a condom and he’s out of stock in his room he comes to me,” Bucky looked at you at the stop light. 

“Oh,” was all you could say. 

“But let me get a few things straight,” Bucky placed his hand on your thigh, “I’m not sleeping with other girls, I do not have a secret girlfriend, I am not mad you left your bra in my dresser and I tried to make the text seem flirty, and finally,” he went at the green, “I really like you and I would like you to be my girl whenever we get there.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, “I’d like that too.” 

“Then it’s settled,” it was a short drive to the cafe, “let’s celebrate over coffee, shall we?” 

You looked down at his hand on your thigh, “yeah, we shall.” 

********

Your body felt like it was floating, your legs tingled and it was hard to catch your breath. As you laid on your back with your hands on your bare stomach Bucky worked his way back up from between your legs while leaving kisses on your hip bones as well as your stomach when you lifted your hands. 

“How was that?” Bucky asked breathlessly, licking his lips before kissing you. 

You kept your answer waiting, probably because he knew it already, kissing him slowly as he wanted. He was fully in control right now, setting the pace and tone of this entire afternoon. When he pulled away for a moment you complimented him like always, your hands reached up to his shoulders and tried to push him to lay on his back but he stayed strong. 

“Flip over,” you whispered and ran your hands down his chiseled stomach, working your way up to his shoulders as your fingernails raked up his back. 

“I’m all good,” he shrugged. 

“But you’re painfully hard,” you tried again to get him to move but he just fell beside you on his stomach, not allowing you to touch him where he was in fact, extremely hard. “Come on, you always do this.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled and pulled you down with him. 

“I just want to do something nice for you, you never let me do anything for you or give you any favours,” in your head it seemed like a normal observation, it was true that Bucky didn’t let anyone do anything for him while he actively tried to help everyone in anyway he knew how. 

That seemingly struck a nerve, “alright then,” he sighed and got up from the bed, heading into the bathroom as he left you naked and alone on his bed, the most lonesome feelings in the world. 

“Where are you going?” you sat up, grabbing your shirt from the edge of the bed. 

“Going to go jerk off in the shower,” he said as he closed the door. 

“You can’t be serious,” you quickly stood and made your way to the bathroom that was connected to his room. You opened the door to see him already adjusting the tap before starting the shower. “Bucky, it’s the truth, it’s who you are but it’s the truth and as your girlfriend I want you to feel good, I want to give you pleasure like you do to me.” 

You reached forward and placed your hands on his back, slowly working your way to his shoulders so you could turn him around. There looked like shame had overtaken him as he stood before you, though he was larger in size he shrunk himself down to look small. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, he didn’t know what to say. 

“If I can’t give you head then can I come in the shower and wash your hair?” you didn’t even put on the shirt you grabbed, it was dropped to the floor. “Come on, honey, it’ll feel so good.” 

Bucky only nodded before stepping into the hot shower with you. You made sure he got most of the stream on him, you stayed in front and made sure his hair was soaked before getting any product. You could see his tenseness at first but the moment your hands made contact with his scalp his eyes rolled back, his shoulders relaxed. In that moment it occurred to you that you had actually never seen his relaxed state before. 

“Doesn’t this feel good?” you whispered, making sure you used your nails to really cleanse his scalp. “Doesn’t letting yourself relax and breathe feel so good, Buck?” 

“Yeah,” it came out quiet and broken. 

Your eyes were focused on his hair the entire time, making sure you lathered up and took your time. You needed to savor this moment for both you and Bucky, you wanted him to be relaxed for a s long as possible as well as taking advantage of doing him a favour; never knowing when your next opportunity would come up. 

Gently tapped his forehead, you got him to lean back. The water immediately took off the top layer of suds but you needed to rub out the deeper layers as well. Your fingers scrubbed until the trail of water rolling down his body was pure water and had no shampoo in it. 

“I’m going to- oh, my gosh Bucky,” you reached out and saw his red eyes, “when did you start crying?” 

“I can’t remember,” he whispered and tilted his head down, the water pushed his hair to cover his eyes. 

You pushed his hair back and pulled him out a step further so the water hit his back, your thumbs quickly wiped away a mixture of water and tears off of his face. He couldn’t stop crying as you tried your best to keep his face clear, “honey, what’s wrong?” 

“I-” he choked on his own words, “I’ve never let my guard down this much,” he admitted before breaking off into harder sobs, you swooped in and pulled him tightly against your chest. 

“I know it’s a new feeling,” you whispered, “but I want you to be able to do this all the time, let your guard down around me,” it was a shot in the dark by saying this but you did it anyways, “I promise I won’t hurt you, I’ll never take advantage of your guard down, love.” 

It must have struck something because his knees buckled, his hands gripped tighter as he desperately kept you close to him. You didn’t know if you were making him feel better or worse but the act of letting go was needed for him, you kept holding him until there was nothing left to cry. 

When he pulled away he stayed close, close enough that you kissed him under the gentle rain of the shower and played with his hair at the base of his scalp. His hands stayed on your back and held you close to him, making sure you were always touching him in some way. You tried to get a good read on him but he kept his head low and gently ran his hands up and down your sides, just feeling you. 

“You’re very safe,” you whispered. 

Bucky looked up at you for a moment before keeping his eyes down for a while, his brows pulled together and it seemed like he was trying to say something but didn’t know how. Both of you were open and vulnerable, naked in the hot shower. Tears threatened to spill over at the picture of Bucky crying in front of you. 

“It was my mom,” Bucky whispered, “the one who broke me-”

“You’re not broken,” you quickly corrected, cupping his face and stroking his cheek with your thumb, “don’t say that.” 

Bucky just shrugged, “I’m the oldest, I have four sisters younger than me - all different dads.” Bucky took a deep breath and pulled you closer, “my mom…Winnie was an interesting woman who never wanted to be pregnant but somehow always ended up pregnant anyways, it also didn’t help none of the guys wanted to stick around.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him the easy opportunity to hug you if he needed to. Nodding along, you encouraged him to keep going. 

“When my mom realized I could do the dirty work she would take advantage of that. I basically raised my sisters and somehow she managed to worm into my head,” he let out an angry laugh, “she’d say she loved me if I did things for her and I was a bad boy if I couldn’t or wouldn’t help her, she would say I didn’t love her if I didn’t change my sister’s diapers or bathe them while she sat on the couch.” 

“Bucky,” you were the one to instigate the hug, “that’s awful.” 

“And I’m aware of how I act now, all I’ve ever known is helping other people to make sure they love me,” he laughed again, “and it sounds stupid but I can never break out of the cycle, I always think I’m doing a good job or not being overbearing but then I start to second guess myself, you know?” he pulled away and looked at you, you quickly nodded. “I start to think about what people are saying behind my back and so I keep doing what I’m doing to stay on the safe side, I know it’s fucking annoying but I can’t help it.” 

“It’s not annoying, baby” you leaned past him and turned off the water as it grew cold, “and if you’ll let me I can help with that, I don’t want to fix you or change you, I just want you to be comfortable in this relationship and not think I’m secretly mad at you because you didn’t get me a glass of water.” 

Bucky nodded, stepped out of the shower with you and grabbed two towels. The conversation had naturally ended, Bucky didn’t have anything else to say. It was hard not to think he was overthinking again, the idea that you were causing him to stress out stressed you out. You were being truthful when you said you wanted him to be relaxed in this relationship, the last thing you wanted was underlying tension. 

Back in bed Bucky rolled over and cuddled into your breasts, holding you closely as you watched his head rise with your breath. You had no idea if he was asleep or not, you knew he wouldn’t mind either way if you played with his hair. 

“Thank you,” was all he whispered before falling asleep. 

********

You all sat around the couch to watch another big game. Though you had no idea what was going on you were just as into it as Steve. Half time had just started and you all took a collective breath, the two college teams were close. 

“Want another beer?” you asked as you stood up, looking at Bucky who was sitting on the couch. Steve and Nat had already filled up, you wanted another cooler and Bucky was almost done. 

“Yeah,” he quickly downed his final sip of beer before handing the bottle off to you. 

There was this anticipation in the room, you smiled and took the bottle and walked past Steve who was already looking at Bucky. The room seemed still when Bucky didn’t move, just pulling out his phone to look at something while the commercials played. Before making it into the kitchen you looked over your shoulder and saw the back of Bucky’s head, you bit your lip to suppress the smile that was growing. 

The moment you got back and sat next to him Bucky took your hand and pulled it into his lap. He fidgeted with your finger before looking over at you, “how’d I do?” he whispered. 

You laughed and leaned into his side, “how much did that make your cringe?” 

“I was in pain for a moment,” he answered as fast as possible before giggling with you as you clink your glasses together and take a long swing. With a deep breath he looked back at the game and kept your hand in his. Bucky must have not been paying attention but his phone buzzed, illuminating and accidentally showing his lockscreen. 

It changed from the photo of the two of you to a black background with white writing on it: 

Trust me, she’s not mad at you.

********

Thanks for reading, feel free to reblog and tell me what you think!

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[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Bucky Barnes | Series | Loose

Part two of the Rebellion Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: You and Bucky have no idea whether you can trust each other. There is an understanding, but you're not sure of what that understanding is and why it seems to run so deep.

Warning: Angst, violence and fluff (?)

Words: 4,1OO

It is hard enough already for Bucky to fall asleep at night. Yes, it has gotten better in recent years, but there will always be that part of him – awake and aware – that registers every sound and movement, even when he should be knocked out. Though he wouldn’t admit it, that part of him sat more alert ever since you had joined the building. Perhaps because Bucky still wasn’t so confident in your allegiance.

He can’t stop overthinking it. He has seen what you’re capable of. Would you be capable of even more if people cornered you? If you felt like you had no other choice but to manipulate and kill your way out? After all, wasn’t it possible that you felt like you had moved from one prison to the next?

You’d been a delight at dinner two nights ago, but Bucky can’t turn off his brain. This is the part that made you win people over. The way you’d gotten along with Natasha like a house on fire, the way you’d shared stories like you and his team had been friends all along… Yet you had no trouble letting a side of yours slip through the cracks that tantalised Bucky beyond belief. The way you had looked at him, teased him–

The faintest rustle has Bucky shooting back to his current place in time. Lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. He holds his breath in an effort to hear better.

Nothing.

However, something doesn’t sit right. Something is off. He’d learned that hypervigilance was a side effect of his trauma, but he had a hard time believing his intuition would betray him like that. Not when he had relied on it so successfully for years.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” he whispers to the dark ceiling.

“Yes, sergeant Barnes?”

“Is everyone in their respectable rooms?” he tries.

“I cannot divulge that information,” the voice sounds and Bucky sighs. He musters up some strength and swings off his duvet before climbing out of bed.

Yeah, he doesn’t trust you for a second.

…

Your heart is pounding in your throat. This isn’t part of your skillset – the escape and combat. Though perhaps if you do the former correctly, you won’t have to resort to the latter. Escaping the compound had been surprisingly easy, which strangely made your chest hurt. It was way too easy to escape. But it made sense. Steve had told you that you weren’t being held captive and you being here was all in good faith.

Faith you just broke by making your escape.

You probably should have been more patient. Winning their trust a bit more and then making an escape, make sure they really don’t see it coming. But the dinner had made you antsy and impatient. You had to get out.

If you’re entirely honest with yourself, you know that getting attached to a new group of people and deciding to escape then – or worse, leading them into their demise later – would be worse than getting away now that no one has attached themselves to you. Or you to them…

Breaching the edge of the surrounding forest, you finally let go of the breath you’ve been holding. You did it. Out of sight, out of mind. You’re free. No more captivity, no more expectations. All you need to do now is leave the country, change your name and possibly dye your hair. Sounds easy enough. A bit dramatic, but not impossible.

That is, until you get dragged backwards by a hand over your mouth and you lose your footing. The hard body behind you is the only thing keeping you from tumbling to the muddy forest grounds. Your breathing is ragged as your hands both fly to grab the forearm attached to the hand covering your yelp.

The metal forearm.

“Rule number one of making your escape: never assume you’re in the clear,” Bucky’s voice rumbles through the night air, his mouth so very close to your ear. “Shouldn’t have dropped your guard when you reached the edge of the forest.”

His gloved hand removes itself from your mouth, but you know better than to make a run for it, or to scream. He twists you by your shoulders and you muster some playful guilt to your face, masking your disappointment. Disappointment… but you feel strangely relieved. Maybe the largeness of finally being free felt somewhat overwhelming. Move to another country and change your name? It’s ridiculous. And that, when the people here have been so patient and kind to you…

You let out a soft laugh, “Worth a shot, no?”

Bucky studies you intently and something in your gut stirs at it. Not even Natasha seems to have as good of a read on you as Bucky does. It makes you feel naked. Makes you feel like all of your carefully crafted plans are flimsy and no good. Makes you feel like you have to stay far, far away from Bucky. Like you need to run. Now.

And how the hell did he manage to figure out you were making your escape?

You wait for him to tell you off, preach against your indolence and call in backup to shove you into something more similar to a prison cell. But Bucky sighs, disappointed and tired.

He seems so, so tired.

“Let’s go back inside,” he says and you furrow your brows at him.

His defeat has your chest clenching tightly. You want him to punish you, scold you. At least show that he cares. Why? You’re not sure. Maybe you need to know that the relief you felt from being caught is somewhat mutual in a sense. That the people here don’t just see you as a weapon, despite the burden, but that you’re someone worth saving. Worth keeping around.

Worth healing.

“That’s it?” you ask. “No scolding or punishment?”

Bucky scoffs humourlessly. “You get a kick out of punishment, darling?”

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.”

“I’m not your fucking baby sitter,” he mutters and starts walking back to the building, rightfully assuming you’ll follow. “If you want, I can ask Steve to tell you off in the morning. He’s better at that sort of thing anyway.”

Some pathetic part of you wants to sulk at his response like an ill-tempered child. “Then why come after me?”

It stays quiet for a second as you cross the field towards the compound. “I couldn’t let a poor escape plan be successful.”

You can’t help but snort at that answer and decide that fine, you’d play along for now. But you wonder if the curious Bucky you’d seen a few days ago had completely vanished since that dinner.

…

The next morning, Bucky gets cornered by you after breakfast. He looks down his nose at your defiant face.

“You didn’t tell anyone about last night?” you ask him and he raises his brows, unimpressed.

It had surprised you that no one at breakfast mentioned anything or gave you even so much as a dirty look. Clearly, none of them are aware that you tried to make your escape last night. And you cannot for the life of you figure out why Bucky is taking it easy on you. Is he smart enough to assume that your own guilt will do more damage than he ever could? Is this part of some bigger scheme of his? Perhaps he is actually as tired and unbothered as he looked when you saw him in those woods.

“What happened last night?” he asks with a telling smirk. The current look on your face is worth the lack of sleep he had tonight. It’s too easy to rattle you. You roll your eyes and Bucky smirks even wider at that. Is he… flirting?

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” you try again.

Bucky remains quiet and fights to keep a straight face. He did expect your question, but why didn’t he tell anyone? Because he thought you and him would get along after those tiny moments during that first dinner. Because the team would have let you walk away. Because Bucky doesn’t want you to go. Because he thinks he can help. Help the world. Help you. He thinks he can help you. And you can help him. And–

“Want me to tell them now?” he says instead.

He barely notices the flash of panic in your eyes before you cover it with an annoyed scoff and turn on your heel to walk away. He watches you. Every step until you are out of sight.

“You said she trusts you,” Steve’s voice sounds from behind him and Bucky schools his face back to bland interest before he turns to Steve. “That doesn’t look like she trusts you.”

“It’s a work in progress.”

Steve frowns pensively. “Well, speed up the process. We have an important mission and we need her for it.”

“What?” Bucky almost loses his restraint, his body flaring in alarm. “Steve, she hasn’t had any training. She was locked up for months. It’s too big of a risk–”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate, Buck,” Steve tells him regretfully, but instantly notices that Bucky isn’t buying it. “This is the thing we needed her for.”

“She isn’t some kind of weapon!” Bucky exclaims and he notices Natasha turning away from her conversation in the nearest common room to see what the commotion is about. He gives her a warning look, then lowers his voice. “Steve. This could’ve been me,” Bucky breathes. And there it is. Recognition flickers in Steve’s eyes. “We can’t use her like this. She’s all alone.”

Steve looks past Bucky’s shoulder as if you’re still walking away from him. Angry frown, uptilted chin and swaying hips– Bucky almost looks. Then Steve sighs and looks back at his friend. “Take all the time you need. If she’s ready, I’ll explain the mission to her. I think she might want to help.”

…

Bucky reads over the file until his eyes turn bleary. Steve was right, you will want to help.

He thinks you can handle it, but… what if you encounter a trigger on the way? What if it all becomes too much? Bucky realises he isn’t nearly close enough to care this much, and he doesn’t, but who else but him is going to care whether you live or die? Sometimes Bucky wonders if even you care whether you live or die. What would have happened to Bucky if everyone had given up on him? He knows damn well that he’d be long dead if not so many people found him useful.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Bucky never had a choice. So he finds himself knocking at your door at 10pm with the file in hand.

After opening the door, you barely manage to get a word out before Bucky extends the folder towards you. “Steve needs your help on this. It should be fine, but the choice is up to you.”

Quick. Brief. He’s just the messenger and the decision is all yours. Bucky turns and makes to walk away – before you can spot all of the thoughts crossing his mind – but your voice stops him.

“Will you be there?”

The question takes him by surprise. Turning back towards you and slowly walking to the doorframe you’re standing under, he creases his brows together. “You need me to come along?”

You shrug abashedly. “Will you?”

Bucky studies your face intently. “Yes,” he lies. He’ll figure something out with Steve.

“What if I can’t do what you need me to do?” There it is again. He doesn’t get why this vulnerable side of you keeps surprising him so much.

“You’ll be useful,” are his terrible words of comfort. He wants to palm himself in the face.

The suppressed smile you give him heats his face and he’s sure you’ll call him out on his horrible people skills, but you stay quiet. The silence grows and grows and Bucky starts to shift nonchalantly, wondering if he should walk off and let you read the file in private.

“Okay,” you say softly.

“You’re coming?”

“Yes,” you affirm and look up at him, handing the file back. “Do you not want me to go?”

“It’s your choice,” he tells you and gently takes the folder.

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

Some wall snaps up inside of him at that tone – at that hopeful look in your eyes. “You could use the mission to make your escape,” he says with a shrug and makes to turn away from you again. “I won’t stop you this time.”

He walks away, leaving you to gape at his retreating form.

…

The mission was simple enough.

Sam, Natasha, Bucky and you would be attending a gala. Supposedly, there is a certain divide between the guests in attendance. Your job is mainly to feel out just who will be willing to join your cause. What goes unsaid is that you’re also required to butter them up to spring into action when your team would deem it necessary.

The party is in full swing and everyone is finally losing their mask of formality and enjoying their evening. You just hit the sweet spot of their susceptibility and you sweep into casual conversation about politics. Seeing who keeps quiet, who isn’t scared to speak up, whose faces harden at the prospect of change, etcetera. All of your antennas are on and when you know people have stopped paying attention to you, that’s when you dare a glance across the room where you know Bucky is standing.

All dapper and handsome, wearing a very expensive suit.

All of you have taken thorough action to look exceptional and to blend in perfectly with the high class crowd. Being charming is easy enough, looking it was a necessity – yet, all of it does still feel very far removed from yourself. Like a betrayal to the woman who was locked up mere weeks ago. However, being a true professional, you don’t allow your thoughts to linger too much and channel back to the matter at hand.

Then you feel it.

The searing heat that starts at your legs and spreads all the way up to your chest and cheeks. Like a virus burning over your skin. And you know what it is – know who it is. So you look back in the direction of Bucky, if only to catch him in the act.

But he’s unbothered. Brooding and observing from the bar in the shadow of the room, somehow alone and undiscovered by most of the crowd (a skill you assume he has acquired over the years). And his eyes are still on you. They glide down and back up for even more emphasis and you swallow away the dryness in your throat.

Gliding a sensual hand over the arm of the man next to you, you excuse yourself with a warm smile and slowly stride over to the culprit. Bucky waits patiently, and you swear you see a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as you walk over. He hands you a spare glass of champagne and turns his back to the room when you’re close enough to hear him.

“It’s working,” he says and you swear he sounds slightly impressed.

“Did you assume I’d fuck up?” you taunt and lean over the bar, sipping at the glass flute between your fingers. Bucky turns to you and his eyes sweep over the curve of your partly exposed back, the hollow of your spine and the curve of your ass. Then he holds his breath for a moment.

“Wouldn’t be mad if you did,” he tells you and his tone sounds gentle. You know that’s why he’s here, even though neither of you said it out loud, you know he’s here to stick up for you if you can’t get it done yet. If you’re not ready to be that person again.

Just like he probably knows that you’re here because the guilt of trying to escape from your saviours was eating you alive. And you didn’t want to prove Bucky right by escaping. You had glanced at the exits a few times and debated it, yes, but then looked at your team and thought against it. Looked at Bucky and–

“We’ll leave in five minutes,” Bucky murmurs as he finishes his glass. “I noted down all the people you signed as potential allies and who definitely isn’t.”

“There’s a few we can convince to help,” you cut in.

“What? The woman who runs that capitalist shitshow?” Bucky frowns. “Nah, she’s only motivated by money.”

You smile at him knowingly. “Money is a great motivator and our movement could benefit her greatly, so you just have to nudge her in the right direction.”

Bucky studies your face then and you might have found it less penetrating when he looked at your body with that stare. That intrigue. “And you already have a plan to tip her over to our side,” he concludes.

“You chose me for this for a reason, did you not?” you ask.

His eyes drop to your mouth. “I like a woman who takes her job seriously.”

You have no idea where that came from, but decide to go along with it anyway. You smirk and empty your flute, gently setting it down on the bar after. “Here I was, thinking you didn’t like anyone,” you purr and saunter off to find your other teammates and round up today’s mission.

You turn around when you hear Bucky yelling out your name, but then the room spins and debris flies everywhere. You’d cry out if the wind didn’t whoosh from your body and your ears don’t hollow out. You want to voice your discovery, as futile as it is, but the scream dies in your throat.

Someone just blew up the building.

…

It feels like there’s ash in your mouth. And throat. Your body bleats in pain, but nothing too severely. Maybe you’re in shock. Maybe you can’t feel a limb that’s no longer there. Maybe–

The room is dark except for an orange hue that travels over the ceiling and walls every few seconds. You’re slumped in a velvet chair and your fingers pluck softly at the fabric. One by one, your senses weave together and you hear the soft sounds of someone working on something. Paper ruffling, some gentle work, someone who’s trying to be quiet. You rasp in a raw breath and see a shadow at the bottom of your vision. But your body is relaxed. Or… Well, as relaxed as it can be.

There was an explosion.

“Have some water,” Bucky offers from his kneeling position between your legs and nudges his chin to the glass at the small table next to your chair. His voice is soft, raw. And when you squint at him while you blindly reach for the glass, you see soot on his face, dust on his suit.

“Are you alright?” you ask and your voice reminds you to take the drink. The water feels like heaven in your throat and you nearly gulp down the whole glass.

Bucky pauses at your question and surely he didn’t expect that to be your first question. “I’m fine,” he grumbles and focuses on the task at hand. Which, you quickly realise, is cleaning up the wound on your thigh.

Next to him, there’s a small container with small shards of glass in there and a used pair of tweezers. You feel the prickle of the wound at your thigh and observe closely as he presses some gauze to the puncture wounds. His hands are firm and steady as he wraps a bandage around your thigh to secure the gauze. His calluses scrape against your soft skin and you almost swear he takes more time than he should securing the bandage.

You heave a deep sigh and straighten up in the chair. “Natasha and Sam?”

“Natasha was sent to hunt down the ones responsible and needed an aerial patrol, so she took Sam.” Bucky clenches his jaw and you have a feeling it took some convincing to get Bucky to not go after the bastards himself, to let Natasha handle it instead. “There were deaths, lots of wounded.”

You flinch at that.

Bucky notices it. The glaze over your eyes and the tightening of your fingers into the soft fabric of the chair. He barely allows himself to hesitate and he cover your left hand with his right one, taking your fingers and stroking his thumb over your knuckles. “We got out as many as we could, no one saw the explosion coming,” he explains and hopes the information brings you some peace. He’s desperate to take that haunted look off your face, but doesn’t know how.

He gives you time then. Allows you to sort through your memories and shush them. He strokes his thumb gently and squeezes your fingers every once in a while to anchor you to here, to being safe. Your breaths go from shallow to deep as they slow. He hears your heartbeat steady and watches clarity fill your eyes again.

Fuck him. Those eyes.

“Tomorrow, we go over your list and see what we can do. Let’s get some rest for now.” He pushes to a stand and moves to remove his hand from yours, but you hold onto him.

“I’m sorry for trying to escape,” you rasp and Bucky tenses at that. He did not expect that confession. Didn’t expect an apology either – he didn’t think one was warranted.

You slowly push to a stand and Bucky’s heartbeat spikes as you wobble on your legs before you steady yourself. His eyes search your face frantically and he tries not to linger at your lips for too long. You gently stroke a hand down his arm before brushing past him in thanks, and Bucky has to take a deep breath. A flash of you doing the same thing to one of tonight’s guests comes to him and jealousy hits him, a little too viciously. Just like it did when he saw it earlier tonight.

He turns around and watches as you walk up the small bag he packed for an instance like this. You pull out some clothes and Bucky shamelessly stares while you do it. He almost sighs as the sight of that orange hue travelling over your form, most of the sleek dress still intact and definitely still doing its job of making you look good enough to eat.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he blurts. But he stands still as he watches you freeze. You slowly turn to him and tilt your head at him curiously.

Then, a slow smirk spreads over your face and your brows raise playfully. Bucky frowns as he tries to read the expression on your face, even if the lightness of it makes him want to drop to his knees in relief. This is much, much better than that haunted look that was there mere minutes ago.

Until one of your hands lifts from the bag, a small scrap of lace dangling from your fingers. “I am never letting you pack our getaway bag again.”

Bucky matches your smirk and strides over to you, close enough that you have to tip your chin up to remain eye contact. “You can choose not to wear it,” he shrugs and the nonchalant gesture makes your legs weak. Slowly, he starts unbuttoning his own pants and shirt, stripping himself of his clothes and tempting you to break that eye contact. “But we’re sharing a bed, so you decide what is less tempting for me to look at.”

It takes everything inside of you not to balk at this… flirtation. But it’s nice – so fucking nice to deflate that balloon of tension after a mission like the one you had tonight. To have banter and humour and perhaps a little friendship.

“I better not catch you looking at all,” you snipe, but have a hard time keeping the smile off your face.

Bucky smiles too then and gives you a wink powerful enough to set your clothes aflame. “Too bad. You can’t ask that of me and look like that.”

That does render you a bit speechless and Bucky takes his win as he strips himself to his boxers. Climbing under the sheets, Bucky’s powerful body shifts and ripples with movement.

This is going to be a long night.

[dysfunctionalmaki]

Say My Name

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Chapter 03/?

Summary: You work all around at the local country club, to your advantage you flirted and used your beauty to get what you want, though with this certain woman your own way can't seem to work.

Warning: This work contains smut and foul language, minors DNI!!

A/N: This update came too long but with the holidays going on, I was occupied but I assure this work could be smooth sailing from now on.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

You were nervous, that's the simplest way you can describe what you're feeling, the table by the window was occupied by Wanda who was having her lunch alone, you were too sure that your eyes would always meet with hers whenever you'd look her way. Yelena even noticed the way you're fiddling with the pen you're holding, Bucky had to steal it away from you since he can't stand the constant clicking sound that came from the object. “Well, what the hell are you doing here? Go do your pretty girl things that you always do, Y/N.” Barnes teased and you can't help but roll your eyes.

“What? No! Y/N, you're not pulling that shit with a married woman.” Yelena retorted, trying to play with your conscience until she chuckled. “Just kidding, go do your thing, her husband's an ass.” she snorted which made you laugh nervously, looking around the room you looked eyes with the redhead once more. Slightly raising her hand to get your attention, you went to be at her service after all you’re still her waitress. “What time are you heading out?” She asked casually which made you widen your eyes a little but you looked at your watch. “In four hours… I'm sure you won't push around your salad for that long.” You say which made the older woman smile. “I have some errands to do but I think it'll be nice to tell Yelena that you won't be going home with her.” Wanda says as she took her designer handbag, taking out her purse so she could get her credit card to pay for her meal.

Doing your job, you went to take it and bring it over to the counter. You weren't sure why you're so nervous, you've done this before… you've hooked up with people way shadier than Wanda, in fact… she's probably the most normal one you're about to go after. When they're finished with her card, you went back to Wanda to return the item to her. She smiled as you returned and took back her card, placing it back in her purse before putting on her sunglasses that made her look even hotter considering how well it matched her outfit. “I’ll pick you up, make sure those two keep their mouths shut about us.” she softly says before getting up from her seat, clearly talking about Yelena and Bucky who were basically watching from their stations.

Placing a hand on your forearm, gently squeezing on it and letting go of you almost immediately, then you watched her walk out of the restaurant with such elegance and style, she didn't have to wear the most obvious designer clothing to scream out that she's loaded, the way she carries herself and her aura was enough to tell that she's that kind of person. Getting inside of her luxury car that the valet got for her, that kind of vehicle was enough to tell you that she is surely a powerful woman. Making your way back to your station, the two gave a certain look and you're immediately reminded of what Wanda told you to do. “So… I hope you two can shut your mouth about this.” You say then Bucky shrugged. “I can keep my mouth shut, I don't know about this one.” Barnes teased while using his thumb to point at Yelena who's waiting on the drink he's making. “Just be careful with what you're doing, you're playing with fire here, Y/N.” she warned you, shrugging with what your friend said, you just went on to do your job.

Hours went by and you were exhausted, you've told Yelena that Wanda’s most probably picking you up, and you think that the older woman was… well, ‘man’ of her words. Heading into the restroom so you could freshen up after your shift, finally you've let your hair down, spray on perfume that has worn off hours ago, and finally you clock out. Heading to walk outside the country club, you see the familiar car that has picked you up once. Making your way towards there, you hear someone call your name and it's coming from a car that just pulled up. “Y/N, how are you darling?” The familiar voice called to you which surprised you, Wanda was about to open the door for you from the inside but confused by what made you stop.

“Diana? Hi! How are you home so soon?” You greeted the other woman who just exited her car, Diana wrapped her arms around you the moment she got close to you, you went to look at Wanda’s car and you're sure as hell that she's watching all this happening. “The meeting went well, everything goes to my approval hence why I'm back here early, didn't tell you ‘cause I'm planning to surprise you… seems like I did.” she says as she batted an eye towards the redhead’s car. “Well, yeah- I'm actually surprised.” you say then you looked at Diana before gently pulling away from her arms. “Mhmm, are you coming with me or not?” she asked so casually. Meanwhile, Wanda can't really hear what you and this woman was talking about, though she could sense there's something between you and this stranger but she didn't want to pry much instead she just waited.

“I- I'm afraid I can't, I made a commitment and I really stick by my words… you know that.” you say which made Diana roll her eyes. “Sure, but you know where to find me and you'd have to promise that you're going to make it up to me.” She says which made you bite the inside of your cheek. “Of course, you know I always do.” You say and finally you bid your goodbyes to her, and Wanda unlocked the door for you… now, you awkwardly get inside her car. “She looks familiar.” Wanda commented the moment she finally drove off. “Oh, she's also a member of the club so you probably ran into her a couple of times if you went here back then.” you say while the redhead nod in response.

“So, I'm going to ask the same question that I asked you last night in our texts… You're aware that I am a married woman, right?” she asked then you simply answer with a yes. “You like trouble don't you? The way that woman held you? There's something there isn't it?” she softly chuckled then you took a moment to think what to answer. “Well, it's no secret that Diana and I do go out… completely casual and no strings attached.” you say causing Wanda to raise a brow. “I hope you're not expecting the same thing with me, Y/N.” the redhead softly spoke. “I don't like sharing at all.” she added with the most innocent smile that she could put on.

“But I think you and I both know what I want.” you say honestly and Maximoff looked at you for a moment. “Oh, you're getting straight to it?” she chuckled before biting her lower lip. “Well, this is how it usually is, right? The married woman goes for the girl she wants to experiment with and once it's done… it's done.” you say, causing the older woman to laugh softly. “Marrying a man is more like the experiment.” Wanda scoffed, she went to drive a little longer and finally you both arrived at some motel out of town, well, she probably chose this one so no one could recognize the both of you and especially her.

Getting out of the car, you went after her just tailing behind her, heading into the motel the older woman asked you to do most of the talking so you did, you chose a decent room for the both of you. While you two were in the elevator, you went to move a little closer to Wanda’s side. “It's Diana Prince… I think she works for Wayne's company.” Wanda says all of a sudden. “Yes, that's her. Do you know her?” She shook her head at your question then you nodded yours. “Well, it's probably just I've seen her whenever I have to do some errands when I do business meetings with their company.” she added. “And you're aware that I'm married to a man who's somehow related to Stark too, right?” you nodded your head once more.

The moment the elevator, Wanda went ahead first and you followed after her, though you had to go first eventually since you're the one holding the key card. The moment you two were inside, Wanda went to look around the room for a moment, while you placed your bag on the chair by the desk near the bed. “What do you mean you don't like to share?” you ask her and tracing back to what she said earlier. “If you want to get me and have me, I want you to have me and only me.” Wanda says and she turns to face you. “Come on, I'm sure you're aware how much of a pretty face you are.” she added which made you even more confused.

“You really want me to put it into simpler terms?” Wanda says with a sigh before composing herself, walking closer to you. “I want to be the only one kissing this lips of yours, be the only one who gets to mark you up… take you whenever I want and whenever I need.” the more the redhead talked about her whims for you, you can't help but feel your body warm up. Eventually, you felt her hand resting on your waist. “You're going to have an affair with a powerful woman, Y/N, are you sure you're ready to take the heat?” she asked as she pulled you closer to her, fingers slowly digging into your skin. “I- uh- You mean I have to drop every possible connection that I have?” That was the question you could ask, sure it does sound stupid but your mind stop working when this woman had you under her spell.

“Well, you're quite greedy if you want to keep me around and still have other people, don't you think?” she asked then finally your face was only a couple of inches apart from hers. “I mean… I know I'm a catch, sweetheart.” she confidently says. Unsure of what to say at this point, all you know is that the both of you were staring at each other's lips, you didn't know how it occurred and who made the move first all you know is that the both of you started kissing… It was needy, hot, and desperate. To your surprise, it was Wanda taking the control here, you were always the one in control… they always have the hots for you and not vice versa, but this woman certainly has her way for you.

Eventually, you found yourself going at Wanda’s flow, you could feel the warmth of her tongue against yours, her wet muscle just swirling against yours. You walked backwards, trying to get a feel whether you're near the bed or not and as the back of your leg hit it, you slowly sank to your knees and sat on the mattress. This time your hands were around the older woman's waist, you were trying to take control this time… your hand was hiking up the blouse that she was wearing, yet you were stopped when she held your wrist. “Who said that you could touch?” Wanda purred as she parted her lips from yours just so she could speak. “I've got to have you first before you get me, malysh…” she spoke in her thick sokovian accent that caused butterflies all over your stomach.

“I- uh- I'm yours…” you stuttered which made Wanda chuckle. “We both know you're not there yet, sweetheart.” she says and you know damn well that she's not wrong. “But, we'll get there.” she whispered against your lips, now she crashed her lips against yours once again. The redhead straddles your lap, her lips moving perfectly with yours, you never felt this desperate… desperate for someone's touch, lips, and warmth. “Give me a chance tonight…” you mumbled against her lips which made her smirk. “No, I want you to crave for me… to the point you'll have no choice but to submit yourself to me.” she answered.

For a couple of hours the both of you didn't do anything but make out, and you've never felt so frustrated, neither of you took your clothes off. Here you are facing the mirror by the sink at the mirror, and what's worse? You're alone, the older woman had to leave since she had to be home when her husband unexpectedly came home. Taking your phone from your bag, you went to call someone.

“Hey, I know it's late and you're probably tired but I was wondering… if you can pick me up?” you hear a soft laugh from the other end. “You didn't score? You're not in your game, darling?” Diana teased which made you chuckle. “I guess you can say that.” You went to tell her where the motel was, this woman actually drove this late so she could get to you, she asked what your room number is and not even an hour later she was knocking on your door. “Should have come with me.” she says before leaning instantly for a kiss and you made sure to give her that satisfaction.

Spending the rest of the night with Diana instead of Wanda whom you came here with, lavishing on Prince’s warmth and taste on the same bed where you made out with the redhead you had earlier. You really are playing with fire after all, it's either you burn brighter than the fire you caused or be burnt, and you know you're never one to back out from a challenge.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta @reginassweetheart @lvinhs @alexawynters @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 4861

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, mental illness, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

11. Palmiers

Bucky

Because he’s on the far end of the spectrum, Bucky’s sex drive is affected by his condition. He wakes up hard almost every morning of his life, and Steve doesn’t need much encouragement to get himself worked up into the same state very quickly. Mutual morning jerk offs were always bound to become part of their routine.

They take a shower and stand toe to toe, hands sliding and groping all over each others’ slick bodies, pulling on their cocks until both of them are shooting off against each other’s bellies. The water washes it away, and Steve gives him a deep, happy kiss. “Mmm. Mornin’.”

“Blegch. Go brush your teeth, you heathen.”

Steve laughs and gets out of the shower. Bucky stays in for a few minutes longer, adjusting the spray to its hardest setting and letting the hot water beat down on his back and shoulders. He sighs and stretches his neck this way and that, trying to get his vertebrae to pop, but his muscles are all too tight, and the stretching just seems to make it worse. Bucky drops his head in defeat. In all honesty, his shoulders and neck and back are all pretty fucked after months of near-constant use of his prosthetic.

Steve’s right: he doesn’t usually wear it this much. And he’s also right that Bucky’s been wearing it all day every day because he wants to feel powerful and able bodied in front of Mary. As per usual, Steve is the first one to have noticed what maladaptive behavior pattern he’s doing and why, and pointed it out to him. It really is for the best, Bucky knows. Because he can’t sustain wearing the arm all the time anymore. The thing is just too damn heavy.

The engineers who designed it have made tweaks and adjustments over the years. They’ve done all they can to lighten the load as much as possible, but the thing still weighs over twenty pounds. Twenty pounds doesn’t sound like much, but when it’s pulling on the same muscle groups day in and day out, everything in Bucky’s body winds up getting strained and unbalanced. He understands better now, how women fuck up their necks so badly from shouldering their purses (or their tits) around. A little bit of weight makes a big difference.

As a Dom, Bucky may have a tiny problem admitting when he needs help. He has to be in quite a bit of pain, trouble, or both, before he’ll ever speak up and allow himself to be vulnerable like that. It’s an inherent behavior that shrinks have been trying to therapize and medicate out of him since he was a kid, but nothing ever changed it much. Falling in love with Steve helped; Bucky can let himself be more vulnerable around him. But even still, it’s no small thing that he regularly approaches his husband to ask for help in getting his arm back on correctly (Bucky can do it, but it’s a pain in the ass, getting the mechanism lined up just right before it’ll take). 

He gets out of the shower and dries off, then approaches Steve with the prosthesis. “Gimme a hand?” 

Steve makes a cheerful noise of acknowledgement around his mouthful of toothpaste, spits and rinses, then takes the arm from Bucky. He lines it up just so, and then Bucky feels the deep shudder of the arm’s inner workings coming to life as they recognize their mate. The arm attaches and Steve lets go. 

“Thanks babe.”

“Uh huh.” 

It’s as Bucky’s bending over and pulling up his underwear and joggers that a spasm runs through his back and he cries out in a pained, “Ah!”

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

Gritting his teeth, Bucky slowly stands back up. He’s able to get his pants up, but when he tests the movement of his neck and shoulders, the pain flares again. It feels like everything between the base of his skull and his mid back is seizing up. “Fuck,” he hisses, frustrated. It’s his day off. He’d been planning to go to the gym for his long workout. 

Steve steps up and puts a worried hand on his left shoulder. “Babe? Do you need it off?” 

“No. I need some painkillers and a magnesium tablet,” he grunts, already turning around (full body, because turning his head is a bad idea right now). “Fuck.” He starts off for the kitchen. 

Steve follows along with worried protests, telling him to lay his “stubborn ass” down and he’ll get it for him. Bucky ignores him and goes to the kitchen cabinet where they keep their supplement stuff. He winds up yelling again when he tries to reach up and grab the ibuprofen. “Fuck!” he says angrily.

“Babe, I said to let me do it,” Steve scolds, his hand back on Bucky’s shoulder. “And let me take this off. It’s hurting you.”

“Steve, back off,” he snaps, angry and waspish from being in pain, and from being frustrated with his own goddamn body. 

“What’s going on?” 

Bucky turns his head without thinking, hisses in pain, and then turns himself full-body to face in Mary’s direction. She’s standing there looking at the two of them in concern, one hand holding one of those swirly, flaky, crack-cookies that she makes, and the other holding a cup of tea. Her eyes widen at the sight of Bucky’s arm and body, reminding him that this is the first time she’s seen him without a shirt on. “Nothin’,” Bucky grunts.

“Shit,” she says. “Are you guys fighting? Is this a couples’ fight? I’ll just …” She turns to leave back towards her room.

“We’re not fighting,” Steve says. “Buck’s just being an ass. He gets that way when he’s in pain.”

Bucky would turn his head to glare at him, but it isn’t worth another flair of agony in his shoulder. “I’m fine,” he says, when Mary comes back over. “It’s fine,” he stresses. He opens the pill bottle and dumps three capsules into his palm. “Jeez, will everybody stop babying me? I just need a glass of water.” 

“I’ll get it,” Steve says, causing Bucky to huff once again. “Don’t be a jerk, babe.”

“Why are you in pain?” Mary asks, her eyes tracing all over the left side of Bucky’s scarred up body. “Is it … does your arm hurt?” 

“No. It just fucks up my muscles, sometimes.”

“Your muscles?”

Bucky sighs impatiently. “Steve, do you know where the heating pad is?”

“I’ll have to look.” Steve has returned with a glass of water, and Bucky tosses back the handful of pills, wincing at how even the slight motion of raising his arm up makes his trap twinge in protest. “Ugh.” 

“You should get a massage,” Mary suggests, and Bucky fights not to lash out at her. She doesn’t know that one of his biggest pet peeves in life is having other people tell him what he “should” do.

“My PT maxed out back in October,” he tells her. “Doesn’t renew again till January.”

Steve takes the water glass from him once he’s done. “Go lie face down on the bed,” he murmurs. “I’ll find the heating pad.”

“Well I could do it,” Mary blurts out. Both Bucky and Steve pause and look at her. She looks surprised, too, as though she hadn’t been planning to say the words until they were out of her mouth, and now doesn’t know how to continue  “Um, that is ..." she gestures weakly with her cookie. “I just meant I know how to, if you wanted.” Eventually her cheeks color and she looks away. “Erm, Nevermind.”

“Wait,” Steve says. When Mary turns back, he’s looking at her earnestly, and Bucky thinks, Oh no. “You know how to give a back massage? Like a real one?”

“Yeah. My, ah, my ex always had neck problems, so.” She shrugs, looking embarrassed. “I took a class at the community college, learned the basics.”

Bucky blinks. That’s the subbiest fucking thing he’s ever heard. “You did this for the husband that beat you?” he drawls, immediately regretting it because it comes out sounding way more derogatory than he intends it to. “Sorry. I just … actually would pay good money for a massage right now. If you know how to do it.” 

Mary bites her lip, looking deliciously shy and sweet. Bucky’s mood sours as he realizes that she doesn’t really want to. He’s about to let her off the hook, but then some unconscious movement he makes without meaning to has him flinching in pain again. “Sheezus,” he complains. 

“It’s not usually this bad,” Steve worries.

“I must’a slept on it wrong.”

Mary nods, as if this settles it. “Okay. Well, go in the bedroom and tie your hair up so it's out of the way.” She turns to Steve, all but dismissing Bucky now that she’s got a task to complete. Bucky fights back an amused smirk as he heads towards the bedroom, and he hears Mary bossing Steve around, telling him she needs dry oil, the heating pad, towels, and all the seat cushions off the couch. 

The fuck does she need those for? Bucky thinks as he pads back into his and Steve’s room.

He finds out a moment later, when Mary and Steve come in with a couch cushion each, and Steve goes back out to get another. They lay them in a line on the bed, and Mary directs Bucky to lie on top of them, with his body placed just so and his face down just there, and … Oh. He gets it.

She’s left space between the cushion under Bucky’s chest, and the next cushion up, which supports his forehead. The gap creates a drop through for his face—like a massage table. And when she shapes the towel into a donut shape and sticks it there, it's pretty much perfect.

“Oh,” Bucky says, as he’s settling into place. “Oh, that’s actually really smart.” He can’t see Mary from his position, but somehow he senses her preening over the praise anyway. Steve returns from the bathroom with the heating pad and oil. “Found this stuffed in the back of the linen closet. I don’t know what ‘jojoba’ is, but, um … it’s either that or the virgin olive out in the pantry.”

“Do not use that,” Bucky grumbles. “Shit’s expensive, and I don’t wanna smell like garlic truffle for the next three days.”

“That’ll work fine.” Mary is totally task focused, ignoring Bucky’s surliness and telling Steve to apply the heating pad across Bucky’s shoulders and neck for thirty minutes before they get started.

“Thirty minutes?!” Bucky complains, unable to see anything but the top of the bedcovers as the two of them go out into the hallway. 

“Just relax, Babe,” Steve says (and if Bucky isn’t mistaken, he sounds amused). “Take a nap.”

“I just woke up!” He scoffs at the bedspread when the door quietly ‘snicks’ shut and he realizes that he’s been abandoned. “Well okay then,” he mutters petulantly. Steve is right: he does turn into an ass when he’s in pain. Hmm. Maybe he should work on that.

Steve

Steve turns the tv onto a low volume so they can talk without Bucky hearing. “Sorry about him,” he says. “He’s a humongous jerk whenever he’s feeling crummy.”

“You mean it’s not just all the time?” Mary drawls.

“He’s … just one of those people you have to learn to love before you like them.” Mary raises an eyebrow, and Steve winces. “Er, that sounded harsh. Don’t tell him I said that.”

She twists her lips and looks down. “Your secret’s safe with me.” 

“Thanks, Hon. You want more tea?” 

“Yes please. There’s more of the palmiers in a baggie next to the coffee pot, if you want any.” 

“Heck yeah, I love those things.” Steve had thought the prepackaged ones at Starbucks were good, hadn’t even realized that they weren’t supposed to be all stale and hard like that. Just another commercialized pastry that Mary’s gone and ruined him for. He goes into the kitchen and makes himself coffee and Mary tea, knowing by now how she takes it.

She thanks him silently as he returns and joins her on the couch, both of them sitting close to one another on the chaise, since it’s the only part of the couch that still has its cushion.

"Palmier is French. Know what else they call these?" Mary asks.

Steve's lips quirk. Mary's always got these little facts she knows about the origins of this pastry or that. It's cute. Endearing. "No," he plays along. "What?"

"Elephant ears, because of the shape, see?"

"Oh yeah. Huh. That's neat."

She goes back to eating and sipping at her teacup, and after a moment of unrequited, affectionate staring, Steve looks away. "Elephant ears," he murmurs, trying not to be mopey. "That's funny."

They split the palmiers between them, and aside from the sounds of them munching cookies and sipping their drinks, it’s quiet for a long time. Steve made both the tea and the coffee very hot, so they at least have the excuse of cradling and blowing on their steaming mugs to keep the silence from being too awkward. Mary keeps her eyes trained forward, but Steve gets the sense that she isn’t really paying attention to the home renovation program that’s playing on the tv. His suspicions are confirmed when she eventually asks,

“So: His arm.”

Steve inhales slowly. “Yeah. His arm.”

“What happened?”

Steve frowns. He can tell by her inflection that she’s asking not just about the arm, but about the state of Bucky’s entire left side from shoulder to hip. “We were in the army,” he confides. “Deployed overseas. I made captain young, but he was a specialist in the field: a sniper. So I wasn’t put into the same types of situations as he was. His convoy got blown up by an IED. And when the dust settled …” He shrugs. “No more arm.”

“Oh.” Mary sits there and absorbs that information. “I guess I kind of figured it was something like that. I mean what else is there, besides like, a shark attack or something?”

Steve’s mouth twitches. Shark attack, ha. He’ll have to suggest that one to Buck. Might be fun to lie about, the next time a stranger asks. “Naw, just a boring old bomb. And afterwards, well. It was a long road for him, after. He didn’t have the arm when I met him.”

Mary turns her head, surprised. “Oh. You two didn’t meet in the army?”

“No, after. I met him at the V.A., when he was already angry, hurt, and didn’t want to be where he was.” Steve looks over and gives her a meaningful look. “Kind of like when I first met you.” 

Her eyes widen, and then her face colors and she looks away again, pulling her knees up and hunkering over her mug. “Was I really that bad?” she mumbles.

“... You were pretty bad, Honey.”

She frowns and doesn’t say anything, and Steve decides to leave it alone. “So yeah, his arm. He got into a program for experimental cybernetics. It was a big gamble. Back then, he still had his arm down to nearly the elbow, which meant he could use a lot of the different types of prostheses they had on the market. The less arm you have, the less they can do for you. The surgeries for the implant required removal all the way up to and including his left shoulder blade. So if he went through with it and the procedures didn’t work out, he’d be left with less function than he started with.”

“Jeez.”

“Hm, yeah. It was a risk.” Steve stares across the living room as he remembers all of the hospital stays and surgeries and revisions and therapy appointments. “Luckily it worked out. They replaced some bones with metal supports, some of his natural muscle with enhanced synthetic tissue. His body didn’t reject any of the junk they were putting in him, which was the biggest worry. All in all, it took five surgeries over the course of three years, and then a shit ton of physiotherapy. Buck says it was worth it, now, but it wasn’t a walk in the park when it was happening, I’ll tell you that.”

Beside him, Mary makes a sad little noise in her throat. “But … all that and it still gives him pain?”

“Yeah. He gets PT for it, but like he said; it never winds up lasting the full year. I force him to my veterans' support group when I can, but he’s gotta be in a really charitable mood for that.” Steve snorts humorlessly. “He’s always hated being disabled. It doesn’t jive with his DPD. You know that stereotype about men: never wanting to stop and ask for directions?” 

“Yeah.”

"Well it's true. And then you take a guy who’s as far on the spectrum as Bucky is, and it’s ten times worse.” He widens his eyes in emphasis and gets a little giggle out of Mary for it, which makes him warm with pride. He pulls his feet up onto the couch next to Mary’s and nudges her knee with his. “Just fair warning: He’s the worst patient I’ve ever seen. So don’t take it personally if he’s grumpy at you in there.”

Mary frowns and looks away. “Well, I mean I don’t have to do this. If he doesn’t want to.”

“Pretty sure he wants to. And he needs help with it, whether his stubborn ass wants to admit it or not.”

She nods, though she still doesn’t look confident. “It’s been over a year since I worked on anybody …”

“Well then this’ll be good practice for you, won’t it?” Steve nudges her again in encouragement and tells her to finish up her tea: He doesn’t expect Bucky’ll lie around patiently for much longer.

(“Oh, and Hon, maybe don’t tell him we were out here talking about him this whole time.”)

(“Duh.”)

In the bedroom, Mary climbs onto the bed next to where Bucky is laid out on the couch cushions. She takes the heating pad off his neck and puts it aside, looking nervously over the broad expanse of his back. “Um …” She reaches for the oil bottle and pumps some into her hands. She spends a long, long time just spreading it between her hands and staring at Bucky, until finally he snaps,

“What’s the holdup?” 

“Babe, be nice,” Steve warns. “Mary? You need anything?”

“Um, no. It’s just … usually I'd ..." She makes an aborted move, like she's thinking about repositioning herself, but winds up staying where she is. "Right," she mutters to herself. "This'll work fine." She reaches forward like she’ll start rubbing Bucky’s back, hesitates, shuffles closer to his side, then sets her hands on his shoulders.

Bucky doesn’t so much as twitch, but he’s not used to new people touching him, and Steve would bet money that his eyes are clenched shut right now.

“Okay,” Mary warns. “I haven’t done this in awhile, so don’t get your hopes up for a miracle or anything.”

“Anything’ll be better than what I can do myself,” Bucky says gruffly, voice somewhat muffled by the cushions. “Just go to town. You can’t hurt me any worse.”

Steve can see Mary’s face, and he knows by now what she looks like when she’s flustered. Awkwardly, he steps to the side, heading for the door. “I’ll just go watch some—”

“No!” Mary squeaks, and when Steve turns back around she’s looking at him with wide eyes. “Don’t leave,” she says, like being left alone touching Bucky is the worst possible thing that could happen. Steve doesn’t miss how the muscles in Bucky’s arms do tense at hearing her plead for Steve to stay. 

“Uhm, okay. I’ll just … be over here.” He leans back against the dresser, feeling almost painfully awkward. Once again, he’s reminded how Mary has shown absolutely no desire to engage in sexual contact with them. He hopes she doesn’t think this is a ploy to force physical contact. She was the one who suggested it, after all.

She starts at the base of Bucky’s skull, rubbing her thumbs in small circles. “As I go along, try to tell me which areas feel the worst,” she murmurs, and Bucky hums in acknowledgement. Steve watches as she pushes and circles and kneads Bucky’s neck, working down on into his shoulders. He’s struck by how feminine and tiny her hands look against Bucky’s body … and then has to steer his mind away from the thought of how tiny they might look in other places.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky gasps, when she reaches a certain spot on the left side of his neck.

She freezes. “Bad?” 

“Nngh. Good,” he slurs. “That whole area from there goin’ down into my back ‘n all around my shoulder blade is where it’s worst.”

“Okay.” She tentatively presses around in and around the left side of his neck and shoulder. “Oh, yeah. It starts right here and goes down.” She slides her hand down the muscle and hums. “Oh, I can feel it.”

(Steve tries really hard not to think sexual thoughts.)

“Riiight here? and … here?"

Between the cushions, Bucky’s voice comes out in a series of garbled moans.

“That’d be a yes,” Steve interprets, and Mary actually shoots him a grin at that. Glad to have cut the tension a bit, he dares to take a few steps closer to the bed. He peers down at what Mary’s doing, the way her fingers dig in at sharp, focused points in some places and rub more gently in others. “It’s your trap that’s the worst,” she mutters distractedly, feeling around with her hands and staring off into space with the tip of her tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth. It’s cute. “Mmm, but probably your levator scapulae, too. Those tend to get fucked up hand in hand.”

“Mmrr.”

“And here: your rhomboid.”

“Ooh!”

“Tender?” 

“Shuyeahhh,” Bucky grunts, then his breath hitches when she digs into another spot. “Oh, yep yep right there. Was’that?”

Steve can’t help but grin. Bucky sounds like he’s drooling at this point.

“Your trapezius muscle. It's big. Does a lot of work, covers a large area. Probably the main offender.” Mary hums and feels around a little more. “Oof, yeah. You’ve got a whole bunch of tension right here.”

“You can feel it?” Steve asks, fascinated. He can't see anything.

“Yeah. Here, gimme your hand.” Steve is taken aback when she grabs his hand and guides his fingers into place, her own smaller hand pressing down. “Riiight there. You feel it?”

Steve swallows thickly. “Ah, yeah.” His eyes flick from her hand on his hand on Bucky’s back, up to her face, and back again before she can catch him looking. “Y-yeah it’s hard.” He grimaces at his choice of words (If he's not careful, "it" soon will be).

“I’m gonna focus on this one for a few minutes,” Mary tells Bucky. Then you can guide me around to the other bad spots.”

“Sounds good,” he slurs. Steve is about to take a step back again, but then Bucky calls out, “Hey Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Pay attention to what she’s doin’. It feels really fuckin’ good.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mmhm. You can learn n' do it next time,” he says dreamily. On his back, Mary’s hands still for the briefest of seconds. “S’goood.”

Steve nods and comes back to sit on the bed. “Okay,” he agrees, scooting in close and glancing at Mary. Her face looks pinched all of a sudden, her expression stiffened as if in annoyance. “I promise I’m not as dumb as I look,” he jokes, and watches as her face smooths out and she smiles a little.

“Oh! Oh no it’s … it’s okay, I don’t mind. I’ll teach you how.”

“Don’t mind me, m’just a teaching tool,” Bucky drawls, and Steve laughs and pats his shoulder. 

“Yeah you are. So shut up and let her teach.”

Bucky grunts and shuts up. Steve looks to Mary for instruction. He can tell she’s uncomfortable, but she manages to hide it well and keep herself on track. The more he pays attention, the sooner she can get herself out of this and never have to do it again. “Ready to learn,” he tells her.

“Now when you’re doing this, you can get more leverage if you straddle his waist.” She says this like it’s a foregone assumption that she would never dare to sit on Bucky’s waist, and Steve is sure she doesn’t notice the grumpy huff of breath Bucky gives.

“Right,” Steve says, pained. “Okay, so where are the bad spots again?”

“Put your hand here.” She takes his hand again and places it just to the left of Bucky’s spine at the level of his shoulder blade. “Slide your fingers out. There. Feel that difference? Feel how it changes when you move out to just … there?” She guides his fingers, and Steve nods. 

“Y-yeah.” Mostly, he’s just thinking about how nice Mary’s warm, oiled, tiny hand feels guiding his hand around. “Yeah.”

“The trap’s on top, but there are other muscles underneath of this one, and that differentiation you feel is where the rhomboid is ending and the—”

She keeps talking, and Steve tries to pay attention and learn, he really does. But his mind is a veritable sieve, for how well he retains the information. It’s all in one ear and out the other, ninety percent of his attention stuck on Mary’s hands on him, guiding him, pressing on his fingers and gliding his touch over Bucky’s skin. Fuck, how did they wind up here? 

Eventually, having taught Steve the basics, Mary lets him go and works on Bucky’s shoulders for a little while more. For the most part it’s quiet, with Bucky making soft grunts of pain whenever she finds a new cluster of knotted muscle, and sighs of relief once she works them out. 

Her hands linger on Bucky’s mid back when she’s done. She doesn’t seem to know what to do. “Erm. Okay. I think … I think that’s it.”

When neither Bucky nor Steve says anything, she retreats on her own, getting off the bed and looking between Bucky’s prone form and Steve’s sorrowful expression. “So, kay. You can get up, if you want. Just move slowly.”

Bucky’s right hand gives her the thumbs up symbol, but the entire rest of his body doesn’t move. “Thanks Mare. Just give us a second. That was really good. Thank you. Thanks for teaching Steve.”

It’s the “Thanks for teaching Steve” that seems to do it. Mary’s expression firms up and she nods curtly, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. Steve stays sitting on the bed next to Bucky in silence for a long minute, then says knowingly, “Got a boner?”

“Yep.”

*This chapter would've had the "breaking point," but I don't like to post chapters of more than 4-5000 wordcounts on Tumblr. So the next part will be up in a bit once I fine tune and add to it.

**And to anyone who's only ever had store bought, pre-packaged palmiers: I'm so sorry. Along with Madeleines, those should never be eaten more than a few hours max after they've been baked.

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[endless-summer-soldier]

dr. feelgood - chapter three

pairing: Surgeon!Bucky x SurgicalIntern!Reader

summary: Y/N has a one night stand with a handsome stranger the night before starting her new job as a surgical intern. Little does she know, the handsome stranger also happens to be her new boss

a/n: this one is pure steam and maybe the best smut I've ever written ;) I hope you all enjoy ittttt

warnings: must be 18+, smut, praise kink, unprotected sex, rough sex, biting, spanking, dirty talk

word count: 2k

series playlist: here

taglist: @sebsgirl71479 @ozwriterchick @notmeddy @drewsuncrustables @lokidokieokie @hextech-bros @nats-whore @m4nulup1n @arcanebabe @tanyaspartak @jackiehollanderr @princezzjasmine @fallenlilangel99 (message me to be added!)

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The surgery was excruciating, yet also exhilarating. It lasted nine hours, but watching Bucky work was amazing. He was so calm and in control of everything, maneuvering each unknown with a sense of ease. Even the nurses seemed smitten with him. And his eyes. Every now and then he would peer at me with those eyes and I thought I might melt. Even though we were in the operating room, he was giving me flirty bedroom eyes and I was very into it. He would ask me questions, testing my instincts and my surgical knowledge and with every correct answer he praised me.

And then he let me cut, and I knew I was a goner. He was teaching me by letting me actually do surgical procedures instead of just watching. It wasn’t anything major, but I was doing it when all the other interns hadn’t even seen the OR yet. I loved that he was challenging me to make me a better doctor.

Once the surgery was complete and the patient was stable, Bucky instructed me to close up. It mostly consisted of sutures and tidying up the wound which wasn’t terribly difficult, but it was something I got to take the lead on. Bucky walked out of the OR and I could’ve sworn he gave me a wink as he passed me by. 

When I walked out of the operating room, I felt on top of the world. I couldn’t stop smiling. And then I saw Bucky, in his scrubs, leaning on the counter by the nurses station, biting into an apple. I knew I was toast. The only explanation for my actions is that my brain was not working rationally, still feeling the natural high from surgery.

I joined him at the nurses station, pretending like I was looking at paperwork.

“Nice work in there, Dr. Barnes,” I complimented.

“Why thank you Dr. Y/L/N.” 

“Would you mind coming with me? I have a patient issue that I think you should see.”

“Is it urgent?” he asked, taking the last bite of his apple.

“Very urgent,” I said. Before I could wait for a response, I walked down the hall, away from the patient rooms. 

It wasn’t a long walk to our destination. I could sense Bucky walking behind me and heard him say, “Where exactly are we go-”

Before he could finish his question, I grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the on-call room. I deftly locked the door and pushed him against the wall, immediately connecting my lips to his. I kissed him with desire and it only took him a few seconds to react and kiss me back. He tasted sweet as I sucked the lingering nectar from his honeycrisp apple off his bottom lip. The next minute, his hands were all over me and I was trying to get his scrub top off.

“You were amazing in there,” I breathed as he kissed my neck. 

“Prepare to be amazed again,” he replied.

“My god, you’re so cocky,” I stated, in between kisses.

“You got that right,” he smiled as he redirected my hand to the bulge in his pants. His arrogance was oddly a turn on, and I knew it was completely warranted. He was good at his craft: in the OR and in the bedroom.

I slid my hand into his pants and grabbed his throbbing erection, moving my hand up and down the shaft with varying levels of pressure.

“You are such a tease,” he whispered, effortlessly pulling off my scrub top.

“You like it,” I countered, tugging on his earlobe with my teeth. That set him off and I was no longer in control. 

He now had me pinned against the wall with my pants around my ankles. I worked to get my shoes off and kick my pants away as Bucky’s fingers started exploring my folds and circling my clit.

“How’s that, baby?” he murmured. 

I barely had a response, “So, so good.” I clawed his bare back as a means of portraying my arousal. 

“I’m gonna need more than that.” He unclasped my bra with his free hand and his mouth was on my nipple like cobalt being pulled toward a magnet. I let out an involuntary moan and my head lolled back onto the wall with a gentle thud. He pulled his lips from my breast to work his way up my chest, pausing to bite my collarbone, before invading my mouth yet again. He increased the intensity of his fingering and a deep moan escaped my mouth right into his. He pulled back slightly and smiled into the inch of air between our lips.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked. It was then I noticed he had shed his pants and his hard-on was eagerly poking my abdomen.

I nodded my head as I tried to still my breathing in preparation for what was to come.

“Use your words, sweetie.”

“Yes, please. I need you inside of me, Bucky.” Hearing his name across my lips sent him into a frenzy. He grabbed my backside and hoisted me up, pushing me into the wall even further. I wrapped my legs around his torso and he effortlessly slid into my sopping wet pussy.

“Fuck,” I breathed as his phallus filled me up. He continued thrusting in and out, changing up the tempo when I least expected it.

“That’s it, baby. You’re taking my cock so well.” His praise turned me on more, if that was even possible. “You’re so tight, you feel amazing.” I clutched onto him tighter, running my fingers up his neck and through his cropped hair. I clutched his short hair in my hands and pulled his head back, away from my face. He looked surprised initially, until he realized I wasn’t signaling for him to stop, I was redirecting him. I offered my exposed neck to him and he grinned before running his tongue from my ear down to my shoulder. I sighed when he opened his jaw wide and sunk his teeth gently into my shoulder. I shuddered as he sucked in, surely leaving a mark on my fair skin.

“Oh you like it a little rough huh?” he asked, working his tongue around my ear. I couldn’t form words, so I just nodded my head and let out another heavy breath. He smacked my ass and I let out a little yelp, taken by surprise but enjoying the tingling sensation.

“I’ll give you rough,” he growled. He carried me over to the squeaky mattress and tossed me down. I grinned up at him and saw him smiling down at me, “Flip over, pretty girl.” I moved so that I was in tabletop position, propped up on my elbows and Bucky grabbed my hips with his steady hands and yanked me toward him. He entered me from behind with a quick thrust and I was back in a euphoric state. He worked quicker this time, his thrusts moving at an increased pace and his hand continued to find my ass without causing too much pain. 

My mind was cloudy as I neared my orgasm, but I remember him continuing to praise me with words like, “You’re such a good girl, taking my big cock.” There was a final deep thrust and shockwaves ran through my body. I had no control over the sounds coming out of my mouth as I finished and Bucky was right behind me, pulling out and spreading his seed over my bare back. As I drifted back down to earth I purred, “You are a god,” before realizing just how pathetic those words were. Bucky didn’t acknowledge my compliment and instead found his scrub top and cleaned me off.

I turned over and slid under the covers of the bed, seeking a moment to catch my breath and reflect post-coital. I was surprised when Bucky slid in next to me and planted a kiss on my forehead.

“What are you doing?” I asked, stunned by his actions.

“I’m cuddling you,” he replied, turning me to the side so he could spoon me.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because we just had sex and that’s what you do after sex.”

“Maybe if you’re in a relationship, which we are not.”

“Oh come on, just enjoy this.” He said, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me tight toward him. I had to admit, it did feel nice.

We caught our breaths in silence for a moment, but my head was reeling. I couldn’t believe that I initiated this. What was I thinking? This was such a bad idea. And the over-analytical side of me couldn’t put it to rest.

“So, this can’t happen again,” I finally stated.

“Oh really? As I seem to recall, you initiated this.”

“In a moment of weakness,” I argued.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that.”

“I did,” I admitted, “But it was a bad idea.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s inappropriate! You’re my superior. You’re supposed to be mentoring me and teaching me things.”

“Oh I can teach you plenty of things,” he purred.

“Not sex things. Surgery things.”

“Who says those things have to be mutually exclusive?” he turned me over so that I was facing him.

“I cannot be the intern who is screwing her attending.”

“Who cares?” he asked.

“I care! I want to be known as a good surgeon for my skills, not because my boyfriend is letting me scrub in on all his surgeries.”

“Did you just call me your boyfriend?” he preened.

I rolled my eyes, “It was hypothetical.”

“Regardless, I’m going to play favorites whether or not we’re together because I think you have a talent for trauma and you’re better than all the other interns. The fact that I like looking at you and I enjoy being around you is just an added bonus.”

“Okay but you are an esteemed surgeon. I am barely out of med school. If things go south, I’m the one that’s getting fired. And I care too much about my career to jeopardize that.”

“Well I certainly don’t plan to mess this up.”

I sighed. How could he be this stubborn and so charming at the same time. 

“I’m serious Bucky, this can’t happen again.”

“Whatever you say doll.” I didn’t know what else to say. It seemed like the more I declared this to be a bad idea, the more I wanted it. And Bucky clearly had no concerns about the situation whatsoever. 

He interrupted my thoughts with the words, “Praise kink, huh…” I blushed and turned to him, not willing to admit he was right. “It makes sense. You’re a doctor and you crave positive feedback. You like knowing you’re the best.”

“How could you tell?”

“I see it in the OR. Every time you do something right, you hold yourself a little higher, happy to have impressed. I figured you might be that way in bed. But you’re quiet too.”

I nodded my head, trying not to give away any more info. “Why is that?” he added.

“...I don’t like being in charge.”

“Now that is interesting. Because funny enough, I love being in charge.” His voice was lower, almost seductive.

“I know what you’re doing, and it is not going to work.” At this point, I climbed out of bed, redressing and preparing to get back on the floor.

“We’ll see about that,” she said smugly. I rolled my eyes as I searched the ground for my thong. Once I was fully dressed, I ran a hand through my hair to try and tame it.

“I’m going back to work now,” I said, about to exit the room.

“Thank you Dr. Y/L/N. When you find yourself in need of a sex god, you know where to find me,” he said, shooting me a toothy grin. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist using my words against me.

I shot him a death glare and said, “Bye Bucky.”

next chapter

[morsmordre-writes]

designated spider killer - masterlist

Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Yelena accidentally plays matchmaker, Bucky pretends he doesn't want to live out his friends to lovers dream, and you're just trying to live your life... too bad a stalker wants to be apart of it.

Warnings: vulgar language/ topics, or at least kind of

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[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][epilogue]

[bean-bean2000]

The Maid Part 2

Pairing: Loki x reader (on going series)

Warnings: Angst, abuse, mental health (depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts). Eventual loki x reader pairing. Reader is a maid.

Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.

Thank you and enjoy!

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🧹🧹🧹

You wake up to the Snake throwing you out of your cot.

"Witch! You dare to sleep in? Get up and start working NOW!" he yells at you.

You groan in pain as you try getting up and starting the day. The medicine Banner gave you is working wonders; you feel none of the pain and your wrist has significantly healed overnight.

You make your way to the kings wing when the Snake corners you against a wall.

"The king has asked me to send you another personal message." he sneers. Your eyes widen in fear when he suddenly slaps you across the face. You feel the wound in your lip split open again, the now familiar metallic taste filling your mouth. He grabs your cheeks with one hand and squeezes painfully.

"Watch your back, witch. I'm watching your every step." he threatens.

He throws you to the floor and walks away, as you gather your items and continue to the kings quarters, refusing to let him see you in pain.

Silent tears are brimming your eyes. You blink them away and take a shaky breath.

I don't know how much longer I can take this.

You manage to complete your tasks within the allotted time given you to by King Loki. You leave his wing with a long sigh of relief, praying that you never have to see him again.

A few weeks go by as you manage to do your work properly and on time to avoid the king. However, the guard Snake, seems intent on making you fail, on breaking you into submission. Without reprieve, he has consistently targeted you every night, to limit your capabilities. Your response and demeanour remains the same: silent and emotionless. As a result, the pain compounded, the prevention of your body to receive time to heal made you weaker. Last night was the worst, as you were too weak and in pain to fight back. You return to Banner, who provides you with more medication but insists that something must be done to stop them from this continuous abuse. You say nothing as you stare back at him, knowing there is nothing either of you can do. You've been sold to the crown to pay for your parent's debt and there was no way out.

The next day, you wake up in unbearable pain. You look in the mirror and curse at yourself. You eye is a deep purple, yellow and green on the outskirts where your nose and eyebrow is. You had fogotten to apply the balm last night, as you had slipped into unconsciousness after the traumatic events of the night.

You decide to wear a shawl over your head and to keep your eyes to the ground while you walk around the castle to the King's wing. You manage to get through most of the work without seeing anyone. When you get to the king's chambers, you close the door behind you and tighten the shawl around.

You start your work, slowly moving around. You still have a limp from the pain in your ankle after the guards had stomped on it the other night.

You work your way around his chambers, focused on cleaning the large windows. You're slowly stepping up on the tall stool with one foot and hanging the other in the air to avoid putting pressure on it. You slowly lift your arms but hiss in pain from the stretch of your bruised ribs. You're shaking with every movement as you clean. You're so focused on ignoring the pain and cleaning that the sudden sound of a throat clearing behind you makes you jump in fear. You yelp as you try to steady yourself but put too much pressure on your ankle and begin falling to the floor when you're suddenly wrapped in strong arms and behind helped back up onto your feet.

You see a flash of green as you're being pulled up and immediate know who it is. You look down at your shoes.

"Sorry darling, I didn't mean to scare you." Loki says with amusement.

You stay quiet as you stare at the floor. You feel his stare boring into you.

"Not much of a talker I see... very well, continue on with your work. I've been pleased so far, so please continue." He says as he steps to the side to let you get back to the windows.

From the corner of your eye, you see him grab the book from his night stand and sit on his bed.

He notices your hesitancy "Don't mind me, I will simply be reading. He turns his head down to the book.

You swallow thickly, anxiety seeping into your bones. All of the rumours you've heard of his cruelty creep into your mind and you start to shake. You force yourself to calm down and return to your work.

Keeping your down as you do not want him to see your bruises on your face, they're especially brutal this time. You turn to the stool and begin stepping up on it. Leaning on the wall, you put one leg up and look behind you quickly to make sure the king doesn't see you as you grip the wall and jump up a level of the stool on one foot. You keep the second foot flat on the stool, but put no pressure on it, to avoid suspicion and keep the pain at bay. You grab the cloth in your hand and stretch yourself slowly to reach the top of the glass and move your arm slowly side to side. You stretch too far and groaning loudly in pain as you retract and pause to take a deep breath. You don't dare look behind you. You know he heard you but you refuse to acknowledge it.

You try again and start cleaning the windows, moving your arm side to side and manage to finish without hissing out loud in pain. You're biting the inside of your cheek as you start lowering yourself from the stool. You pause to grip the wall again and hop down the first step, you miss it and instinctively put your pained ankle down to prevent from falling. As soon as your foot steps on the stool, you yelp in pain and jump off the stool, gripping the wall to steady yourself. Your head is down, you're breathing rapidly, knuckles turning white as you try to regulate your breathing.

You're so focused on waiting for the pain to go away that you don't hear Loki get up and walk up behind you until you feel his hand on your elbow.

You stiffen at the touch.

"Turn around." he orders you.

You feel tears forming in your eyes. This is it. He's going to send me to the dungeons and have me killed or tortured, or worse. You swallow hard and slowly turn around on one foot while staring at the floor.

"Look at me." he orders you again.

You slowly lift your head up and look at him. You see his eyes widen slightly and his jaw tick.

"What happened?" he commands.

His eyes are a deep green, you can see the emotion behind them.

What do I say? I can't tell him what's happening... he will never believe me. I'm a simple maid. Who am I to snitch or accuse a royal guard?

"I slipped and fell." you reply queitly.

A lie. He can taste it. He looks at you and slits his eyes as he ponders your answer.

"You mean to tell me, you slipped and fell in such a way that split your lip, gave you a black eye and seriously sprained your ankle almost the brink of it being broken?" he asks you incredulously.

"It was a very bad fall your highness." you say queitly.

He chuckles at your answer "You know I am the God of Lies and Mischief, and yet you still choose to lie to me. I do not take you for a fool. You speak eloquently, you seem somewhat educated and intelligent. Yet, you still lie to me."

You swallow thickly and sway slightly out of anxiety.

"Apologies your highness. It was not meant in ill-will."

He sighs deeply "I can smell Dr. Banner's healing balm on your skin. He created it for me, to numb the pain while I am at war. Why would a 'simple maid' such as yourself need the balm?....I will ask you one last time, what happened?"

You're shaking, his eyes look you up and down with concern.

You remain quiet. Too fearful to lie or say the truth.

He sighs deeply "You refuse to answer my question again? You understand the consequences of such disrespectful actions towards a royal. Why?" he questions.

You shift again "I can't lie if i remain quiet, your highness."

He stops and stares at you. He is shocked by your answer. His eyes shimmer and lips curly slightly into a smirk; he's impressed.

"Very well... You may leave now."

He watches you limp to the closet, put the supplies away and lower the shawl over your face again.

You bid him farewell and take your leave.

When you leave his chambers he can't help but wonder about you.

She lied. I know she did. Who does she fear so intently that she is willing to lie to her king for? Something isn't right here. Her eyes... they looked empty....

He paces his room and stares out his window, coming up with a plan to figure out what is happening within his kingdom's walls.

🧹🧹🧹

Part 3

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feedback is always welcome. Feel free to send me suggestions for scenes/drabbles that I could add into the stroy :)

Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

@gruftiela

@elegantcheesecakecrown

[captainsimagines]

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

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

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female SexWorker!Reader 

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

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

Word Count: 37,000+

This series is completed. Also read on AO3.

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

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

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

[justkending]

Bullshit! How about a bet? (One-shot)

Summary: Who knew that being short would lead to such great benefits?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (shorter)

Word Count: 3900+

A/N: Once again, I dipped my toes into smuttier waters, but still am building up the courage to jump in fully... I have some announcements (life-wise) that I'm going to make soon, but I needed to write something after the week I had just to bring some happiness to my life, so here you are! I hope you enjoy :)

___________

I was adamant about finding some way to sue Tony Stark for placing the microwave at such an unnecessary height. 

I also planned to sue him for the emotional distress it had caused me this far with the teasing and mocking jokes the team landed on me when they watched me attempt to put food in it. 

Nat and I weren’t far from each other’s height, but either she didn’t use the microwave, or she was better at hiding when she did because I seemed to be the only one who got the quips thrown at me when I stood on the tips of my toes just to push something onto the turntable. 

To make the task harder, the door opened top to bottom like an oven instead of side to side like any normal version of the kitchen amenity did, making my arms stretch out as far as I could just to get whatever it was I needed to be heated up to actually go into the damn thing. 

Damn the rich for trying to be fancy where it was unnecessary!

Recently, I tried to adopt Nat’s efforts of never being seen doing the mundane daily act, and the last few times, I had been successful. My luck seemed to run out today...

Trying to make my task as quick as possible, I pulled the door down and stood on my tiptoes to push my now lukewarm coffee mug into the middle of the turntable. 

“You’re so close, Pixie,” I heard behind me, and I cringed, finding I was far from being in the clear. 

“Fuck off,” I grumbled, knowing the voice of the person the nickname had originated from. I accepted that the mug was in the microwave even if it wasn’t centered. 

“Those aren’t nice words,” Bucky retorted, and I could hear the smug grin on his face even if I didn’t bother to look over at him. 

“You’re an angry Pixie today,” Sam added, walking to the counter and grabbing a banana off the stand in the middle, and then going to the fridge for a drink. 

“I thought you guys were on a tactical mission,” I groaned, pushing the buttons that were also too high quickly to start the radioactive machine. 

When I turned around, Bucky was closer now but had propped himself on the side of the bartop of the counter that faced the seating area ahead. Sam was still head deep into the fridge, trying to decide on his drink of choice. 

“We were. Finished it early,” Sam hummed as he ducked his head to see all the varieties of sodas, waters, and juices Tony kept stocked. “Weren’t you supposed to be in a meeting?” 

“Canceled,” I answered shortly, glaring at Bucky, who seemed to still find my height funny as he grinned at me. “Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” he asked, playing coy. 

Instead of a response, I just sent him another hate-filled look. 

“Find a way to sue Tony yet?” Sam broke the stare-off we were having, and I didn’t process what he meant. 

“About what?” I looked at him.

“About the microwave being placed perfectly so that you look like a toddler trying to reach for the cookies on the top of the fridge,” Bucky answered for him.

I turned my head slowly and murderously to the brunette. 

“Out in the field isn’t the only place you can get killed,” I smiled, but there was no hint of joy or joking behind it—instead, a sadistic pull of my lips. 

“No threats,” he pointed at me with a warning Tony had started since forever ago, and I could see his shoulders tense even if he tried to hide the hint of discomfort. 

“Promises are different than threats,” I tilted my head with the smile still on my lips. 

“Stop that.” His body had ever so slightly leaned back. 

The microwave dinged before I could torment Bucky further, and I turned my head to look at it and then back at Sam. 

“I won’t replace your shampoo with nair if you get that for me,” I smiled, almost instantly turning the psychotic one into an innocent one. 

“Why would you do that, to begin with?” He asked, concerned, slowly moving to get my mug out of sheer fear. 

“I think you can take a decent guess,” I replied, watching him as he carefully brought the mug out and walked calculatingly to hand it to me. 

“Y/N,” he warned. 

“Hope you two have the day you deserve,” I skipped away, mimicking a child about to go prance through a field of flowers. 

“She scares me,” Sam whispered once I was out of the room. 

“Are we sure she’s not an evil serial killer on the side and just does this job to lessen her karma?” Bucky asked, their eyes still on the doorway I had left out of. 

—————————————-

“Bullshit!”

“I see they’ve started early,” Steve sighed, taking a tired sip of his coffee as he sat in the den where Bucky, Nat, Sam, and I were already up, causing chaos for the day.

“They got a bet going,” Sam explained while Steve sat beside him.

“What is it this time?” Steve questioned, looking between us three and keeping the lip of the mug close to his mouth.

“Bullshit!”

“Exactly that,” Sam smirked, grabbing his own cup of caffeine.

“Bucky claimed that Y/N couldn’t, and still hadn’t, beat him in Bullshit since our last Christmas party,” Nat said, joining on the other side of Steve with her own playing cards in hand, leaving him in the middle of the two. 

“I have beat him,” I mumbled, looking over my cards in hand as I debated on the next set to put down. “He just got the honorary win because we were called on a mission before I could put my cards down and go out.”

“If you didn’t get to play the winning hand, how did you win?” Bucky snarked, watching me carefully as I put two aces down. “Bullshit.” 

“Ha ha!” I pointed at him. “Pick 'em up, Buckaroo.” 

He rolled his eyes and looked down at the decent-sized pile of cards stacking up, seeing that I did, in fact, tell the truth and added them to his own hand. 

“Careful what you claim, Buck,” Steve retorted about more than one thing, only getting a middle finger in return from his friend, who stared at his new options. 

“There’s a larger bet hanging over this one,” Nat hummed, putting her two cards in before pulling her legs into a crossed position. 

“Yeah?” 

“If I win, he has to be my man-servant for the microwave,” I celebrated, putting down one three of clubs that I was lucky enough to have. My deck in hand was growing thinner and thinner. 

“And if not?” Steve asked. 

“If not, she can’t call me Buckaroo for five months,” Bucky mockingly sneered at me. 

“Actually, two weeks,” I shook my head, putting a card down. 

“If you’re so sure you’re going to win, why does it matter?” he said teasingly. I stuck my tongue out at him as a response. “Real mature.” 

“Just play your hand, Jackass.” 

He did, and on my turn, I went out.

“Hell, yes!” I jumped up and down, hands in the air, before doing a small victory dance. 

“How the hell?” Bucky looked absolutely flabbergasted by my win. “You had like ten cards left.” 

“Did I?” I cheered, showing my empty hands for effect. 

He turned to Nat, who had a grin on her face, and shrugged when she noticed his glare turned on her. 

“Don’t look at me. I played clean,” she laid her deck of cards neatly on the table and put her hands up in defense. 

“Fair win, Buck,” Steve laughed. 

“You’re my man-servant now,” I gleamed, dipping down to grab my mug of coffee and handing it to him. “Would you mind heating this up by chance? I forgot about it while I was busy kicking your ass.” 

“Yeah, because of how long it took you to do it,” he grumbled, not putting up a fight as he took it from my hand and stomped to the microwave passively. 

________________

Bucky’s POV

For the next week, Y/N multiplied her microwave use by a thousand. Things that didn’t even need microwaving were thrown in for two seconds sometimes, just to annoy me. 

She’d say stuff like, “Oh, perfect. It was just half a degree too cold,” or, “Careful, I burned my tongue last time 'cause you were too busy glaring at me to watch it. We don’t want to make that mistake again.” 

She even had me heat up Nat’s and Wanda’s food at one point, even though that wasn’t part of the bargain. Her reasoning should have had me leaving the room, but instead, Nat and Wanda had a nice glass of steaming apple cider in hand by the time I did leave. 

I was close to being done with it all and the constant nagging that accompanied it, so when I walked in and saw her in the kitchen today, I instantly turned on my heel and tried to run before she saw me… Luck wasn’t on my side...

“Oh, Buckaroo!” That name had multiplied its use as well... “I need to pop the popcorn for movie night, and I could use the help!”

I could have kept walking and brushed it off as if not hearing her, but no one was dumb enough to believe that. Damn my super hearing… And as annoyed as I was, I was a man of my word. I made a bet, and I lost. I only had six more days, eight hours, and 28 more minutes to go.

“Ten seconds at a time,” I muttered under my breath as I turned my direction back to the kitchen and stomped slowly to the microwave. 

I had been coming in here for my own hidden snacks for movie night and forgot that most of the team would be here for this night’s movie marathon. It had been a while since we all had some free time together, and even if the new chore had become irritating, Y/N was using it for good tonight by making sure everyone had their favorite popcorn in hand for the trilogy we were watching. 

“Why do you put all the work on yourself when they can come in here and make a bag themselves?” I asked, leaning on the counter where she was organizing the multiple varieties of popcorn we had stocked. She was measuring to make sure that everyone’s favorite was accounted for.

“Why not? It’s not hurting me,” she shrugged as if it was common sense and I was asking a dumb question. “Why do you pick the same two types of candy every time we have a movie night?” she shot back, looking at me and slightly nodding to the microwave. 

I took the message as I saw the timer count down from three and moved to grab the finished bag inside. 

“It’s a comfort food,” I argued my answer. 

“Exactly, and this is their comfort food. Plus, I don’t know, it’s one less step they have to map out. It’s already an exhausting part of our job having to think of the next step constantly, and it doesn’t bother me to do, so why not take an extra few actions so they don’t have to,” she simplified.

She handed me a prepped bag, ready for the microwave next. 

I took it and went back and forth for a while as I thought of her answer. 

I had learned over the years that Y/N’s love language had been acts of service, whether that was making sure that our favorite cereals were on the shopping list so we wouldn’t run out, or offering a blanket or pillow when she came into the same room as you before she got comfortable herself. 

We were almost always constantly tired from our jobs and just the general weight of the world on our shoulders some days. Having someone make popcorn for you on an off day was just one less action to do, and Y/N did more things to help us in that area than I had even tried to notice.

I had seen her acts of service being done, but mainly out of spite of not being one of the people who received them. Not because I wanted her to do things for me, more so the thought behind it. 

We bickered and got on each other’s nerves a lot, more so just to poke at her and see that fire in the pixie’s eyes on my end, but I didn’t get this kind of treatment as often. I had accepted it at this point, but the few times she had extended that kind of care to me, it felt like burning a candle on a fall day after deep cleaning for eight hours. Something about it put you at peace and made you feel even more at home. 

Maybe this deserved a conversation with her, even if I was terrified to wander into those grounds. 

We had quietly shuffled around the kitchen, and I had taken on the job as her co-chef as I grabbed multi-colored popcorn bowls to empty the bags into and organize them according to type. 

“Peter likes the bowl that looks like the Death Star cut in half,” she pointed at one of the bowls I had pulled down. “Tony got it for him for Christmas last year, and he uses it every movie night.” She smiled as she turned back to grab one of the last bags from the microwave. 

She was saying something about adding the extra-extra movie butter popcorn bags to that bowl, but I was already moving to her side to grab the bag that was just out of reach from her fingertips in the microwave. 

Her back molded into my chest as I reached over her, pulled the brown paper bag out, and handed it down to her. I wasn’t massively bigger than her, but the nickname Pixie held its title well. 

“I had it,” she looked up at me from behind, and damn it, if that didn’t stir something in me. 

The intimate position had me feeling a new kind of warmth, different from the subtle glow of a candle in a pristine room. Instead, a weird and fuzzy feeling of realization made goosebumps form up my arms, but I didn’t quite understand what it was. 

Was this a form of anxiety I hadn’t felt yet?  I snapped out of it when I noticed I had stayed there a beat too long, and Y/N looked worried.

“We made a deal,” I said, grabbing the last bag to pop out of her hand and placing it in the microwave. “I’m a man of my word,” I added, clearing my throat and reminding myself out loud that that was the only reason I was not moving from my spot with her back in my chest and our bodies practically molding into the others. 

“You really hold up your end of the bargain,” she smiled and ducked under my arm, immediately leaving me in the cold. 

I snapped out of the headspace I was thrown into without a choice and shook my head as I helped her finish the last few tasks before accompanying her to the movie den. 

My days were almost up with being Y/N’s personal microwave-er, but for whatever reason, there was this new realization I had that made the excuse of being near her in this way not as frustrating.

I made it an excuse to try and get closer to her again and again, and not just for kitchen amenity requirements, but anytime she couldn’t reach something, which I was learning was a lot. 

Any form of aid, like trying to get a box from the top of the pantry, trying to reach a book or file on the top of a shelf, or trying to put a mug back when she was emptying the dishwasher. 

Currently, I had walked by her room, door open, and saw her struggling to hang a new picture frame on her wall, being just a few inches too short as normal. 

“Fucking hell.” I heard her mumble as she looked around for a chair. 

Before she could move from her spot, I was already behind her, hanging it to the spot she was replacing. 

“Oh, thanks,” she said, but the tone in her voice wasn’t a grateful one. “What is going on with you?” She turned and crossed her arms, looking up at me while I centered the gold frame before pulling away. 

“What do you mean?” I cleared my throat, not sure if I even knew what I was doing. 

“Don’t play coy,” she leaned back on her heel, anchoring her stance at me. 

“We made a deal,” I answered, even though it was a half-assed one, but it was better than admitting what I was feeling. Or at least I thought it was…

“For the microwave. Mind you, that ends tomorrow,” she pointed out. “What’s with all the extra help suddenly?” 

I hesitated, not sure what route I wanted to take. 

“I realized you have more things you struggle with than just in the kitchen. I figured you’d be happy to be getting a bang for your buck.”

“Bang for my Buck?” she said back with a raised eyebrow, and I heard it even if I didn’t mean it that way. Or did I?

“Yeah, getting what you bargained for,” I swallowed thickly, seeing a new fire in her eye I didn’t understand. 

“Bang for my buck, or are you trying to get a bang for your buck?” she said softly, taking a step forward. 

I froze as our chests were inches from touching, and she looked up at me in a way that would make any man melt. 

“It was the bet,” I cleared my throat, and the sound of something in the hall broke our attention from each other. “I should go check on that,” I stepped back, stabbing my thumb behind me but failing to pull my eyes from hers. 

“Should you?” she shrugged, with a sly smirk on her lips. 

I couldn’t help but stare when her tongue slowly came out to wet her lips. When I looked back at her eyes, all traces of annoyance were gone, and elements of lust took over. 

“You hate me,” I stated, knowing- or at least thinking I knew- that this feeling of chemistry would ruin us if we gave into it.  

“I don’t recall ever saying that,” she tilted her head to the side, never breaking eye contact with me.

“Actions speak louder than words,” I swallowed when the two-inch gap between us became one. 

“Why so nervous?” she ignored me. 

I hesitated because there were a million things going through my brain to answer why I was stiffening at the change in energy between us. 

“We shouldn’t-”

“Actions speak louder than words, though. And hate to break it to ya, but your actions have been showing otherwise.” Her fingers brushed my chest, and I held back a shiver that threatened to escape. “I’ll stop if you want,” she offered, halting her hand in the middle of my sternum and looking up at me before smiling mischievously again. “But you have to say something.”

My jaw tensed, and I saw her trying to read the emotions on my face. Unlucky for her, she had just flipped a switch I don’t think she meant to touch. 

I immediately turned and, with determination, walked to the door. I heard a subtle “pft” behind me like she was disappointed in my choice, but she was sorely wrong if she thought I was leaving now. She didn’t get to look at me with those eyes, bite those damn lips, and make threats she didn’t plan on following through with. 

With a quick slam, I bolted the door handle and turned to look at her from my spot. 

Now I had the upper hand, and her eyebrows were raising. 

“It’s not nice to make threats,” I said lowly and took slow and careful steps closer. I could see her go rigid now. “Unless, of course, this is actually one of your promises. Either way, don’t say something you’ll regret following through with.” 

“Should I regret it?” she hummed, and even if she looked more relaxed, I could tell she was still trying to read me and couldn’t quite follow if I was serious or teasing her back. 

“How good is your judgment?” I asked, doubling my stride until my hands were on her hips, and she was pinned to me. A sharp intake was the instant response I got from her. 

“I’m starting to wonder if it’s losing its edge right about now…” Her chest heaved in quick motions, but she tried to act as if unphased by the proximity. 

“I’ll stop right now,” I mimicked her words from earlier, but not without lowering my face to hers and stopping mere centimeters from her lips. “But you have to speak up.” 

Her breath was on my lips as her own parted, waiting for clarity to come back to her, but she stayed looking over my features, debating all her choices. 

“Answer me this,” her hands slowly and delicately took my forearms as she held me in place, our hips brushing each other in close proximity. My hands couldn’t help but squeeze in a possessive manner. “When did you realize it?”

“Realize what?” Our nearness made the tips of our noses brush, and the heat between us grew with each passing second.

“That you wanted this?” Her hands traveled up to my elbows, and she needily pulled me closer, causing our lower halves to slam in friction. 

I stifled a low moan, even if it took all the willpower in my body to do so. 

“Darling.” One of my hands on her waist moved to her lower back, and I pulled her in enough for our chest to connect next. The other hand released to come up and cup her jaw. “I’d be lying to you and myself if I said it hasn’t been a daydream of mine for a while.”

She tried to hide her smile by biting the inside of her cheek, and my thumb brushed over the movement. 

“It’s taken you fucking forever to do something about it,” she replied breathily. 

“Made it damn hard to know the feelings were mutual, doll,” I said back, looking down at her lips and keeping my attention there for a second longer to prove my point. 

“Where’s the fun in easy?” she said, pulling me into her, and our lips crashed without hesitation. 

I was hungry for something I’d been starved of for far too long, and the feeling seemed to be reciprocated on her end because the next thing I knew, we were pulling and tearing at each other’s clothes like they were on fire, and we had seconds to live before they consumed us. 

“We should make more bets,” she said breathlessly as she moved feverishly to undo the buttons on her jeans.

“I agree, Pixie,” I huffed, throwing her shirt off before moving to take mine off next. 

“I bet you can’t make me-”

“Oh, there are going to be a lot of things I’m gonna make you do after waiting this long. No bet’s necessary…” 

I pushed her back on the bed, and she fell back on her elbows, looking up at me with wide eyes and a blushed complexion. 

“I like the way you talk, Barnes. Now show me instead of telling me.”

​​​​​​​​​​

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes

[bi-ss]

~ Ties that bind ~

Bucky x reader- arranged marriage.

Summary: You agreed to arrange marriage when you were little, after seeing who you are to marry. You wish you could go back.

Warning- drinking? None i can't think of.

(Spelling may be bad as I'm very dyslexic sorry in advance)

You've been staying in your bestfriends apartment for 2 days now, you've just had more time to think about what will become of your life, you didn't get as many texts from James as you thought when you went to bed around 11PM but oh lord when you woke up it wouldn't stop going off, in all truth your phone died and you fell asleep with it on charge.

"Omg, would you turn that off.. It's 6:30, i love you, but not that much.." your friend groaned as she walked over to your phone to turn it off seeing you still in your make shift bed, you were about to get up and go get coffee but a 'huh' your friend made caught your attention.

"What? If it's something stupid, imma smack you so hard.." You look at your now bright screen to see unread texts coming through from an unknown caller, you picked it up and started reading some, with her reading over your shoulder, your were confused at first because you didn't know who it was but when finding out who thought it would be an amazing idea to text you at an ungodly time, but you soon figured it out, it was james.

You were annoyed at not only did he get home at 1am close to 2 so you would have been there for hours on your own but because he was the last person you wanted to talk to.

Rolling your eyes you went on with your life, making and drink a cup of coffee then getting ready to attend a fashion show, you weren't walking but you were invited with front row seats and couldn't pass it up, and there was have after party which you managed to get your friend into aswell somehow, so a minimum of 6 hours away from James and all the stress in the world.

"I wonder if theres cute guys there? I hope so. Ugh, after me and Josh broke up, I've been so lonely.. in bed, of course, i dont want commitment!" You watch as your best friend since college, Chloe, yapped about boys while realising for the 4th time today what's going to change when you marry James, "have you seen Joshs new girlfriend, I think we went to high school with her.. shes nice..." As she continues to gossip while doing makeup, you zone out and think about your life until she claps, getting your attention once again, "you know what?! I'm happy for Josh. I'm happy being single. He's happy being non single." She smiled at you."You should be happy you're marrying one of the most richest and most powerful men in America, probably the world, maybe.." You just nod and smile at her. You don't know if you are smiling because she's smiling or if what she said was correct, you're sure you'll find out.

While driving to the fashion show, the topic of James was brought up, "if I were marrying him, I'd be in his bed so fast," Chloe stated for the 38th time. "Is it true? The rumours about his arm, that's is.. no doubt the rumours about his dick aren't false -" You zone out from your friends rant about James when your phone screen lit up from a text... his text.. one after the other..

You zoned back in to hear chloe talking about Zeon. In all fairness, you didn't know who he was, but also, she hadn't spoken about him til now, or you think so? You were about to ask who he was until you see a modern building with lots of windows and a weird looking woman statue but with no curves and all straight lines and spikes, it did make you uncomfortable in an unspeakable way but you got out of the car and walked past it while looking down, you walked up to the bouncer you, showing your Ids and was let in, after the man blocking the door with a clipboard questioned chloe about if she was in the right place or not.

You were seated towards the end of the runway, which you didn't mind, but what you did mind was the constant camera flash some for the models but mostly for you.. that isn't helping you stay away from James, but you do like attention. The event was over later than you expected as some older women went on a rant about how fashion changed and how it was disturbing now or whatever.

You parked in a 24/7 parking zone and walked a little over 10 minutes for the after party that was already in full swing when you got there, heading straight towards the bar with chloe walking close behind to order a mocktail since you dont drink often but over to your left chloe was downing tequila shots like water, that wasn't surprising but what was surprising was when she ordered a cocktail and sent it your way, she knows you don't drink but looking around and seeing all the lady's glancing at you knowingly you thought this was one of the rare occasions where you will drink, and drink you did.

You knew from the start that marrying James Barnes wouldn't be easy from all his "fans" who are just girls throwing themselves on him but finding out he has a girlfriend? A whole other can of worms you didn't realise opened but the girls at this club were a new level of bitchy, like one tried spilling her red wine on you but ended up missing and it went over the lad next to you who weren't amused at all or when you were dancing with chloe and some other chick tried tripping you but you stepped over her foot unknowingly but 30 seconds later you did almost trip yourself up, but that's about the last thing you remember apart from getting more drink and getting hit on some else happening then dancing on someone or dancing on your companion.

But you do know 1 thing for certain is that you've woken up with a massive banging head ache in a warm bed, half dressed and with what you assumed someone sleeping next to you as they haven't moved, unless they're watching you sleep?

(Lol sorry i hadn't been posting i just moved, lmao, so that's taken most of my time)

TAGS: @learis @unaxv @cjand10 @pattiemac1 @coffee-winter-and-silence @scott-loki-barnes @blackhawkfanatic

[pinkiebieberpie]

oh, yes, i know that he's my ex, can't two people reconnect? (the biggest lie i ever said) - i just tripped and fell into his bed

and i told my friends i was asleep but i never said where (or in whose sheets) and i pull up to your place on the second floor and you're standing, smiling at the door and i'm sure i've seen much hotter men (but i really can't remember when)

bucky moodboards list

*bad idea, right? by olivia rodrigo - hookup with ex!bucky

[captnvbarnes]

➼ 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹’𝑺 𝑩𝑰𝑵𝑫 | (17+) 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

theme — mcu zombie au!

pairings — bucky barnes x fem!reader, steve rogers x fem!reader

warnings — graphic gore, language, angst, undead themes, apocalypse (twd inspired zombies), substance abuse, graphic violence, use of weaponry, cannibalism, slight fluff, smut, character deaths, forbidden love, slow burn, inspiration taken from twd universe

summary — the outbreak had happened as quick as the first bite. one, then two, then 1/3 of the population became 2/3’s. before any of the avengers could comprehend this threat, it overcame them with new york’s rising population becoming undead. bucky is your protector, not by choice but by chance he was there just in time to save you. you two flew the compound, leaving the life you knew. leaving your husband to rot. as you two grapple what this new world has become, everything became too much. the world depended on you guys to save them, but how could you save anyone now? and when the blood runs and the nights become colder, who will save you?

This story is best suited for a mature audience, so read at your own discretion.

➽────────────────────❥

PROLOUGE

OUTBREAK DAY

RUN AWAY

LEAVE IT

FIRST GLANCE

THIS IS HOME?

ATHEN

TRIGGER BANG BANG

ASSISTANCE

CAMP HELLFIRE

SINNERS

MAROON SKY

STRAYING

I CAN’T GO ON WITHOUT YOU

GHOST IN THE WIND

A SHINY PEARL

WELCOME HOME

SAVOR THIS

IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE

RAPTURE

HOW ARE YOU GOING TO BREAK?

SAVE YOURSELF FOR SOMEONE ELSE

SALVATION

EPILOUGE

➽────────────────────❥

tag list <3

@buckystevelove @frombkjar

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

A Patient Man Ch. 2

One week later

“Y/N!” Sebastian burst into her hotel room with the key card she gave him.  

“Seb!” she yelled back as she came out of the bathroom, her makeup artist and hairdresser finishing getting her ready for another day of interviews on the press tour.  He looked her over, her hair done in an intricate braid, her signature style on full display with her clothes and bright green wedges that made him wonder what she would look like with only them on.

“Wow, love, you look beautiful,” he breathed.  

She smiled, putting her earrings on, and looked him over as well.  “Thank you, honey,” he beamed at the pet name. “You look pretty snazzy yourself, sir.”  His eyes slightly widened at the second pet name, but he quickly recovered and gave her a smirk.  

“All for you, sweet cheeks.”

She giggled, her cheeks blushing a soft pink that he just wanted to kiss.  “You ready to go?” she asked, “We could walk down to the car together.”

“Yes!” Sebastian said a little too quickly.  

As they made their way down to the lobby, Sebastian got progressively more excited.  He had arranged a surprise for Y/N and couldn’t wait to see her reaction.  She seemed to notice his newfound giddiness and eyed him warily.  “What’s up with you?  Did you do something?”

He blushed and avoided her eyes, “No, why would you say that?” 

“Mhm,” she hummed, squinting her eyes at him and popping an eyebrow up in suspicion.  The elevator doors thankfully opened and he grabbed her hand to drag her out so they could get to the surprise more quickly.  

“Seb, what are you doing?  What’s going on—“  Y/N stopped suddenly when she saw who was in front of her. 

“Mama!” Lulu and Ollie screamed, running full sprint where they had been talking to their grandparents by the doors in the lobby.  Y/N immediately broke down into tears, sinking to her knees so she could catch them both.  They launched themselves into her arms and laughed as she squeezed them tight, kissing them all over their faces.  Sebastian had taken a step back to let them have a moment, watching the family reunion with a sappy smile on his face.  He heard a click and looked up to see a person catching the moment on their phone, smiling from both seeing some famous faces as well as the cuteness of the situation.  Sebastian decided to step in their line of sight to make it harder to record, and knelt down next to the kids.

“Was this a good surprise?” he asked tentatively as Y/N tried wiping away some of her tears, still holding her children as close to her as possible.  

Y/N looked at him with watery eyes, lower lip quivering, and shook her head affirmatively.  Lulu and Ollie noticed him. “Sebby!”  He smiled wide at them as they hurled themselves at him next, and he fell over from the force of the little bodies hitting him.  “Hey my munchkins!” he laughed as they climbed all over him, squeezing him as hard as they could.  

Y/N looked on smiling like an idiot, wiping the last of her tears away.  As Sebastian played with them she looked at her parents who had been flown in with the kids.  They both smiled at her and the kids loving Sebastian so much.  They were too young to remember their father very well, and she was happy that the kids had someone like a father figure to look up to and have back in their lives.  Y/N had been feeling the fluttering of emotions she hadn’t felt in over 2 years, and as much as it scared her, she couldn’t stop smiling at the scene before her.  

6 months later 

Sebastian Stan and Y/N are starring in a new movie together, again!  They’ve been looking very cozy lately and we’re wondering, is the chemistry on-screen translating to off-screen romance?  Y/N will be taking on a daring new role as a burlesque dancer turned nanny working for Sebastian’s character as a single dad to a young girl.  Will she be able to pull it off?  We can’t wait to see!

Sebastian couldn’t believe it when he had auditioned for the part, got the callback, and showed up for the screen tests that Y/N would be there as his co-star.  He had been silently ecstatic, trying to play it cool when he saw her there waiting.  Sebastian had been given the script by his agent and had liked the story, thinking it would be an interesting part to play in a more romantic comedy type of movie, taking a small break from the more intense characters he’d been playing over the past few years.  

He’d been in a romantic relationship with her character in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and had loved every minute of it, but now he was getting to play a different type of relationship with her that would turn romantic as well.  He would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little too turned on by the fact that she would be doing a lap dance on him for a scene.  

“Alright my dudes, today is the day!” the director yelled out.  They had shot most of the movie already within the last few months and only had a week left.  Y/N had been practicing pole dancing and burlesque dancing for the role, and was getting pretty good at it.  This last week would be her shooting the burlesque scenes with Sebastian’s character at a burlesque club.  She actually quite enjoyed it, and her kids would go to the gym with her as she practiced and learned new moves.  Lulu liked to try swinging around on another pole as Y/N did her choreographed routine for the scene.  Sebastian had met them all once at the gym before going to a family dinner.  He had seen Y/N finishing up her routine, and had had to hide for a minute to get himself to calm down and make the bulge in his pants go away.  He didn’t know how he was going to handle the lap dance scene today.  There would be no acting in that scene on his part.  

“We’re shooting the scene that we’ve all been waiting for today,” the director went on.  Everyone started to “ooh” at Y/N as she stood there in her robe, and she cheekily posed although her cheeks were burning.  Sebastian had a few crew members give him a little nudges and wiggle their eyebrows at him.  He just smiled, trying not to let on how excited he actually was for today.  He looked at Y/N and could see that although she was putting on a nonchalant front she was extremely nervous.  They had been in close proximity and intimate situations with each other before for the previous movie, and she was generally a physical person, but this was a very different, much more sexually charged situation than what they had experienced together before.  

Y/N hadn’t been intimate with anyone since her husband died, and had barely dated recently, but it was never anything serious or physical.  Sebastian felt the protective urge to pull her away from the group, but the director was speaking again, giving a rundown of the schedule for the day.  It was all intimate moments today, and while Sebastian was excited, he knew he had to be patient with Y/N.  It would be a long day for her. 

They dove right into the pole dancing, where Sebastian’s single father character on a night out with his work friends is taken to a burlesque club and sees a dancer that he recognizes as his live-in nanny on the stage.  The director called action and Y/N took off with the music, getting lost in the resonant beats, her supple body sliding up and down the pole then slowly twirling to the floor where she started crawling along the small stage.  Sebastian was supposed to look surprised and slightly angry during this scene upon realizing the dancer is his nanny, but he felt like he was failing miserably.  He could feel his eyes were wide as saucers, his mouth hanging open, hands balled into fists to stop himself from palming the growing tent in his pants, willing himself to think of unattractive things to make it go away.  The other male actors in the scene were whooping and hollering as she interacted with those close to the stage, making him furious that they got to see her this way, that it wasn’t just all for him.  Finally the song ended and Y/N did her final move and posed, a coy smile on her face, and Sebastian remembered himself, quickly contorting his face into a scowl for the camera at the last second.  

“Cut!” the director yelled and started clapping as he went over to Y/N who was still sitting on the stage, moving to a more comfortable position, trying to cover herself a little more with her arms across her chest.  “You’re amazing, gorgeous, sublime, I can’t even handle it!” he exclaimed, making her smile slightly.  “We’re just gonna run it a couple more times to get more angles, then we should be done,” he said, taking her hands in his.  She smiled wider and said something quietly to him that made him laugh.  He then turned to Sebastian, who didn’t dare stand up yet.  “Very good, Seb,” he said as he walked over to where he sat, then when he was closer in earshot slyly said, “You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”  Sebastian blushed and looked away, finally getting the bulge to disappear from the embarrassment of the situation.  “It’s okay,” the director said quietly as Sebastian stood up, “but you should probably go talk to her, tell her she did a good job.  She’s feeling a little exposed.”  Sebastian immediately looked back to Y/N as a dresser was giving her the robe to cover herself again and the actors near her were giving her high fives, making him quickly walk over.  As he approached, Y/N started looking anywhere but him, giving him a glance here and there. 

“Hey Seb,” she said, looking down, adjusting the strap around the robe.  

“Hey hun,” he smiled slightly, “how are you feeling doing all this?”

Y/N shrugged, still playing with the strap on the robe.  Sebastian felt that protective surge come over him again and pulled her to the side away from everyone else.  

“Y/N, it’s okay to feel a bit awkward and exposed.  I did the first time I did a love scene,” he said quietly.  She looked up at him then, eyes tight and apprehensive.  

“Really?” she whispered.  

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled, putting his hands in his pockets.  “Being basically naked, tons of people and cameras watching and catching every little move you make, and the idea that millions of people would see it when the movie came out?  It was terrifying.”  He stepped a little closer, taking her hands off the strap she was still holding tightly.  He squeezed her hands and she squeezed his back.  “But you were amazing up there,” he murmured, his voice becoming more husky than usual.  “You have nothing to worry about.  People are going to love you in this movie and in this role. I know you feel a little weird right now, and that’s okay, it’s valid.  Just embrace it and the day will go by faster,” he then winked at her to lighten the mood.

Y/N giggled at that, and looked down at his hands again, giving them an extra hard squeeze before looking back up at him.  “I’m nervous about later today for our other scene,” she said softly.  

Sebastian furrowed his brow quizzically, “Why?  We’ve been in intimate scenes before.”

“Well yeah, but…” she started, then bit her lip.  Sebastian wished she wouldn’t do that, it was too sexy.  “Those other scenes were kissing and hugging and mostly mild compared to me giving you a fucking lap dance!”

He threw his head back in a laugh, and pulled her into a hug.  She slapped his chest as he laughed at her, but couldn’t help but to laugh along with him.  

“You got me there, sweetie,” he laughed, then gave her a kiss on the top of her head that barely reached just under his chin.  “But it’s going to be okay, it’s just me.  We can do this.”

Y/N sighed into his chest.  “I know we’ll be fine, I just…” she then pulled back and looked down.  “I haven’t actually been intimate with anyone for a while, so this feels kinda…big.”  

Sebastian’s heart broke for her then.  He gave her a small smile, and as her eyes started to well up with tears of anxiety he quickly cupped her cheeks and swiped under her eyes with his thumbs.

“Hey, just breathe okay?” he said quietly, moving forward and crouching slightly so he could put his forehead against hers as he held her face in his hands.  “You can trust me, okay?  It’s just me.  I’m sure you’re feeling anxiety and nerves, and probably a little scared, right?”  Y/N nodded as she gripped his wrists.  “That’s okay.  When we get to it, just focus on me and you, nobody else, got it?  Just you and me, babe.  Just you and me.”  He looked deeply in her eyes as she stared up at him.  She seemed to be looking for something as her eyes looked back and forth between his.  Her stare made him feel self-conscious but he didn’t dare look away, letting himself indulge in this little moment.  She seemed to like what she found as she blinked a couple times and then gave him a smile.  Sebastian smiled back at her as she gripped his wrists a little harder one more time, then rubbed the tip of her nose on his nose, making him laugh.  She would be okay.  He’d make sure of it.  

Later that night

It was time.  The lap dance scene was kicking off in a matter of minutes, the scenes leading up to it had been shot and her entrance into the room was done, now it was time for the actual dance.  Y/N had only practiced it on a chair with nobody in it or with the choreographer, and so far it didn’t feel as sexual to her as it was about to.  Y/N was wringing her hands, trying to keep her breathing even as Sebastian sat down in the chair in the middle of the private room in the burlesque club.  Sebastian looked over to her standing in the corner and lifted his hand up to her to come forward.  She quickly walked to him and put her hand in his outstretched one.  He smiled reassuringly at her and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb.  She puffed out a bit of air between her lips and smiled back at him.  He winked and pulled her closer so he could speak in her ear as the loud music was playing in the background.  

“Just remember to have fun and play along.  It’s you and me.  Just you and me,” he whispered so only she could hear.  His gravelly voice made Y/N shiver slightly, and she stood back up and winked at him.  He chuckled at that and let her hand go. 

“Everybody in position!  Let’s get this done and go home!” the director yelled over the music.  “Light check!  Good, sound check!  Good, good.  Now, Y/N, you ready?”

Y/N got in position, took a deep breath and let it out, then gave him the thumbs up.  “Great, and cue music!”

The moment the song “Touch It” by Ariana Grande came on, Y/N seemed to slip into her own little world.  She began to sway to the music, her hands gliding up her body and into her hair, tugging at her locks, then slipping her fingers through the strands and up above her head.  She seemed to almost be slithering her way towards Sebastian as she twirled.  She sank to her knees, then tipped her upper body forward so she was on all fours and began crawling towards him.  Even though they had gone over what she was going to do since the dance was choreographed and rehearsed, Sebastian still wasn’t prepared for just how erotic it would be.  Y/N finally reached him, touching his knees first to hoist herself up and after a few smooth moves lithely set herself on his lap.  He kept his hands in fists at his sides, both for the character he was playing and also for himself.  He wasn’t sure he’d be able to make his hands behave once he was allowed to touch her.  Right on cue she took his hands and set them on her hips, and he gripped them tightly, trying to ground himself in the moment.  She was a vision, with her hair slightly messy, a slight sheen of sweat on her brow and her bright lidded eyes looking at him hungrily.  He wanted so badly for that look to be real.  

At the rise of the music in one of the last choruses she reached up and ran her fingers through his longer hair that he had grown out for this movie.  She gave his hair a good tug, making his head fall back, and he couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled past his lips from how good it felt.  Y/N didn’t let it distract her and leaned forward and licked his exposed neck, giving his pulse point a nip, then rubbing her nose along his neck to the soft spot just below his ear and sucking it softly.  Sebastian was harder than he could ever remember being before.  Y/N finished her dance as the music died down, doing her choreographed last few moves, then slid off of him and made her exit from the room, her hips swaying in her tiny outfit.  

Sebastian didn’t dare move, his eyes blown wide as he watched her and his hands back into tight fists resting on his knees.  The music finally stopped and the lights went up again.  

“CUT!” the director screamed.  “Yes!  Yes, Y/N, that was amazing!” he praised her as she shyly came back through the door, arms covering her chest again as she fidgeted with the small shorts she had on.  He gave her a quick hug and then put his hands on her shoulders.  Sebastian felt a sting of jealousy towards the man for touching her, but still couldn’t move due to his painful, raging boner.  Y/N just smiled lightly at the director.  

“It was so good.  We’re just going to need you to sit on his lap and do some more dancing for a few more takes so we can get some more camera angles, k?  I know it's weird, but we’ll only be doing this for a little bit longer, I promise,” the director said quietly to her as the cameramen and sound people were moving everything around frantically trying to get to the next position.  Y/N just nodded resolutely.  The director looked over at Sebastian.  “You good with that?”  Sebastian just nodded as well, trying to shrug off that this delicious torture wasn’t over yet.

“Ok people, places!  Music!  ACTION!”

Y/N picked up the choreography right where the music started, and sat in Sebastian’s lap again.  She put his hands in position on her hips again, and ground down on his lap.  “Y/N!  If it’s okay, can Sebastian put his hands on your back and your butt?” the director yelled over the music.  Y/N’s body seemed to stutter for just a second, but she quickly recovered and pushed his hands down til they cupped her buttcheeks, giving his hands a squeeze to let him know it was okay.  Sebastian’s heart felt like it would literally leap out of his throat at any second, and his eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of getting to touch her like this.  He knew it was wrong, but it felt so right, so he took advantage of the situation.  He only held her butt for a second before moving his hands up her back, fisting her tiny outfit in his hands to pull her closer to his body, pushing her down further onto his erection, trying to relieve some of the bulge with the friction.  Y/N’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping after feeling just how hard and large he was pressed up against her groin.  She gripped his shoulders as he pushed her closer, her nose bumping with his, and she felt herself get lost in the moment.  Forgetting the choreography, she just enjoyed the feeling of him against her, his large hands splayed across her back, his broad chest heaving with his deep breaths, her legs wrapped around his waist.  Y/N quickly collected herself as the music progressed into a pivotal chorus high note, and quickly ran her fingers through his hair again, pulling his head back.  This time the moan he let out rumbled in his chest and was much closer to her than the first time, and she trembled from the resonance of it.  She once again licked his neck along his pulse point, sucking the soft spot below his ear, and loved how she could feel him cup her buttcheeks again and pull her down on him again.  She hadn’t felt this intimate, this exposed, this sexual and this wanted in a long time, and let herself revel in the feelings she was having towards Sebastian.  

“CUT!” the director called out again.  Y/N stopped grinding, slowly releasing his hair but stayed sitting on his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck.  Sebastian closed his eyes, trying not to scream at the director while also being extremely thankful that Y/N didn’t get up.  His cheeks were flaring crimson in embarrassment, his head hanging in shame at being caught enjoying himself.  

“It’s looking great you guys.  Seb, you good?” the director asked as he stood next to them, a smirk pulling at his lips.  Sebastian didn’t look up, just gave him a quick thumbs up.  The director chuckled.  “Alright, just one more angle that I’m wanting then we’ll be done, k?  Y/N, you feeling okay?  I hope it wasn’t too much for him to touch you some more.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m okay,” Y/N said steadily, squeezing the back of Sebastian’s neck lightly, trying to let him know that it really was okay.  Sebastian tapped her leg lightly in response.

“Alright, we’re just going to do one more shot from above, then we’ll be done for the day.  So let’s start just about a minute back in the music, alright?  Alright.  LIGHTS!  MUSIC!  ACTION!”

Y/N started slowly grinding against Sebastian’s hips again, but this time after pulling his head back by his hair and kissing his neck, she ran her manicured fingernails down his chest.  Sebastian tried as hard as he could to not become completely overwhelmed by the sensations, he really did.  But nothing could prepare him for just how good it felt for her nails to scratch and slightly pinch his nipples as she grinded on his crotch and sucked on his neck, and next thing he knew, he let out a guttural grunt as he came in his pants, his hips involuntarily snapping up to meet hers, his eyes rolling back into his fluttering eyelids and mouth gaping open.  Y/N gasped, her hand freezing against his chest and the other still in his hair, feeling his heartbeat quicken and an extra warmth seep through his jeans underneath her.  The music died down and the lights slowly came back up again.  Neither of them had heard the director say “cut!” as Sebastian’s grip on Y/N’s hips tightened, keeping his eyes tightly shut as he hung his head.  

Sebastian knew that Y/N could tell what had happened, and he didn’t dare open his eyes to look at her reaction.  She kept her hands on his chest, too stunned to move.

“Great job you guys!  We’re done for the day with you two.  Go back to your trailers and take cold showers, huh?” the director laughed at both of them as the crewmembers around them quickly packed everything up and cleaned up the room.  Sebastian still didn’t move, and he was confused why Y/N hadn’t either.  It wasn’t until the room had become quiet that Sebastian finally felt her start to slip off his lap, pulling herself up onto her feet.  He let her slip through his fingers, putting his hands in fists on his knees again, refusing to look up at her.  He was too embarrassed, too ashamed, and what was worse was that the moment had been caught on camera.  The whole world was going to see it.  

“Seb,” Y/N spoke quietly.  Sebastian’s brow tightened at her voice.  “Seb, please look at me,” she pleaded, her voice intimidatingly soft.  He minutely shook his head, his longer hair tickling his cheeks, trying to hide the furious blush on his face, feeling like he could cry at any moment.  He felt her kneel down in front of him, her hands settling on top of his fists.  

“Sebastian Stan, look at me,” she commanded him, her voice more stern now.  He opened his eyes in surprise at her tone, but could see her expression didn’t match it.  Her eyes were sparkling with a hint of mirth, a small, coy smirk pulling at her lips as her eyes traced his face.  “Seb, it’s okay.  I’m not embarrassed, you shouldn’t be either.  I’m sure these things happen all the time in situations like this,” she spoke softly again, rubbing his hands until they eased out of the fists he had them in.  He let out a long sigh, eyes closing again as he tried to maintain better composure.  

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered.  Y/N only giggled at him and continued rubbing his hands.  

“It’s alright, honey, ‘m serious.  You don’t need to apologize.  I’m fine, really.”  

He pulled his hands from underneath hers and rubbed his eyes as she smiled reassuringly at him, and he finally smiled back, relief painting his features at how understanding and kind she was about the whole thing.  He held his hands out to her and she gingerly placed hers back into them.  “I’m still sorry, though.  I’ve never done that during intimate or sexual scenes that I’ve shot before.  I guess this time I just...I...ugh, goddamn Y/L/N,” he chuckled, which made her laugh.  

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said as she squeezed his hands, then pushed herself up onto her feet and stood before him.  He couldn’t help but check her out with her this close in the light in an outfit that would barely qualify as underwear.  She reached out to give him a hug, which he gladly accepted.  Her breasts pressed against his face, standing in between his legs as he eagerly wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her as close as appropriately possible within the moment.  He breathed in her scent as they just stayed there, both of them trying to get their bearings back after such an intense afternoon.  

“Seb?,” she spoke again as she pulled slightly away from him and stood before him again.  “Yeah?” he looked up at her quizzically.  She gave him a lopsided grin and leaned down so that her face was right in front of him, his eyes widening as she was barely half an inch from his face.  Her sweet breath fanned over his face as she sighed openly.  “You looked beautiful when you came,” she whispered, her eyes flicking to his lips then back to his eyes.  Sebastian’s jaw dropped comically as his eyebrows shot up his forehead.  Y/N scrunched her nose at him as she leaned a little bit forward and rubbed the tip of her nose on his, then quickly stood straight again and winked at him as she turned and walked away, the swing in her hips back as she sauntered off the set.

Sebastian stared after her, feeling his cock leak some more at her words.  Once she was out of eyesight, and he hoped out of earshot,  he moaned again and palmed himself through his now ruined costume pants.  He really didn’t want to explain that to the costume designer.

[yourtearsaremyink]

It's Just This Once

Hey everyone! This is my first post. This work is finished but I will be uploading the chapters weekly. (I don't really know how Tumblr works so if y'all have suggestions or tips let me know)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Not many. Bucky and his PTSD, my life choices to write this, nightmares, Bucky's regret and self hatred. Idk. There's not even language in this thing its mostly fluff.

Summary: Y/N is an Avenger, she has healing powers and uses them to patch up the rest of the team. Bucky never asks her to use her healing powers on him, except once.

Chapter Word Count: 1,912

Chapter 1: Take the Pain Away

Y/N was working in her little corner of the medical wing of the newly built Avengers Compound. All was right in her little world, well as right as her world could be since reappearing after a five year absence. 

Everyone was trying their hardest to go back to normal but adapting to a life without Steve, Tony, and Natasha was far from it. Shortly before Tony and Steve's fallout, Y/N was recruited by Fury to join the Avengers Initiative. He had somehow figured out she was an enhanced and convinced her to join the team. She had hid her abilities so well in the past she had no idea how a man she had never met before found out about them. Y/N had the extraordinary ability to heal others, it had taken an insane amount of time, energy, and focus to master her powers. With the help of Wanda she had also been able to unlock another talent. She had intuition that was insanely on point so she could guide her teammates on their missions. Natasha had taught her some martial arts moves and Steve taught her how to protect herself in a fight. Y/N soon became part of the family and finally found a place where she belonged, but after a few billion people came back from nothingness, her family seemed to narrow down. She had fought in the battle against Thanos and tried, had really tried, to heal Tony with her powers but in the end it wasn't enough. She couldn't help but feel a little responsible for his death. When the battle was over and Steve left to be with the love of his life, he left so many friends behind. If Y/N couldn't heal Tony's physical wounds, maybe she could heal the emotional wounds he and Steve left behind. 

Shortly after the battle she became close with the remaining Avengers. She helped guide Sam on missions as the new Captain America, she comforted Wanda after her little outburst in Westview, she even got to know Bucky a bit more. Sam had convinced him to live at the new Compound with him instead of being alone in an old apartment in Brooklyn. Every so often Sam and Bucky would limp into the med bay in need of healing. She had healed Sam several times and Wanda a few but never Bucky. He always said she shouldn't waist her energy on him, and she always replied with, "It's no trouble at all, it doesn't take that much energy." Bucky would brush it off and say his advanced healing would take care of his injuries in no time. She never really pushed it, considering what he's been through with people messing with his body, it didn't surprise her when he didn't want to be helped.

Today was nothing unusual when Sam came into the med bay with an arm around Bucky and the other around his side. Y/N hopped up from the seat at her desk and began walking to the two men.

"What did you do this time?"

"This idiot took a bullet for me." Bucky spoke up as he helped Sam into a bed.

"Hey don't be mad at me for saving your life." Sam snapped back. He was taking off part of his uniform so Y/N could assess the injury properly.

"I have better healing than you, I would have been just fine." Bucky countered.

"I'll be fine! I have the best healer in the world right here, right doc?" Sam shot a quick smirk at Y/N as she started to heal him. A light purple glow emitted from her hands as she closed the wound on Sam's torso.

"Just because I can heal you in seconds doesn't mean you can be reckless."

Sam's smirk faded as Bucky gave a short "Ha" in victory. Y/N noticed Bucky was holding his left arm with his right and had a few bruises on his face.

"I could always heal you too Bucky if you need it."

"It's fine doll, these bruises will be gone in a couple hours." He said as he gestured to his face. Y/N turned her attention back to Sam as she finished up her work.

"All done." She said as she removed her hands. "Go clean up, Wanda and I are making dinner soon."

She grabbed a cloth and wiped some of the blood off her hands.

"You're the best doc. " Sam gave her a quick hug and headed out with Bucky. As they left she saw how tight the muscles in Bucky's were. With all of the experience Y/N had with healing people, she was able to see how much he was hurting. It could just be the stress of the mission so she didn't think much of it. 

Later that evening while Y/N was cooking with Wanda, she once again noticed Bucky. At this point she couldn't tell if it was just stress or flat out pain. Sam was tapping away at his laptop sending a report on the mission to Fury. He didn't seem to notice the tight expression Bucky was wearing. Bucky was absentmindedly rubbing his left shoulder where metal met flesh, he looked exhausted.

"You good Buck?"

He glanced up at her removing his hand from his shoulder and said,

"Yeah, I'm fine. " with a half hearted smile.

She hoped that a warm meal would help. Y/N loved to cook, especially with Wanda, she loved seeing people's faces when they ate the food she made. Pretty much everyone else was away from the compound so it was just the four of them. Wanda had suggested they make soup since Autumn came out of nowhere and settled in New York. They set the table and listened to Sam talk about the mission he and Bucky had just endured. Bucky let Sam do all the talking for once and kept quite happily enjoying the warm food. The creases in his features slowly melted away as he finished the soup. Once the story was finished and the dining room was cleaned up, everyone said their goodnights and started off to their rooms, all expect Y/N.

"You're not going to sleep?" Wanda had asked when she saw Y/N going towards the elevator instead of her room.

"I have some work left to finish since I was so rudely interrupted earlier." She had turned her head to Sam with a smile.

"Hey don't come at me." He said with his hands up in a surrendering gesture as he walked to his room.

She gave a small laugh, "Goodnight guys." 

Y/N headed down to her lab and picked up where she left off. She was running some lab work on some blood samples when she heard thunder shake the building. It startled her enough for her to nearly drop her test tube. Soon after she heard rain begin to pound on the walls of the Compound. She glanced at the clock as it struck 1:00 am.

"Just a little longer." She whispered as she resumed her work. 

Bucky was sitting in his bed when he heard Thunder boom outside his window. He hadn't slept since coming to his room, too stressed from the mission and in too much pain. He knew the rain was coming, he felt it in his bones, but that didn't make it any less unsettling. He truly felt like an old man knowing rain was coming by the way his prosthetic arm felt. The mission had caused a few unpleasant memories to resurface and that made his mind uneasy. All of that combined together resulted in a dull headache and an unbearable amount of phantom pain in his left arm. His shoulder was throbbing and it felt as if he was being stabbed by a hundred needles where his metal arm occupied where his flesh should be. His breathing was laboured and heavy, he was so close to a panic attack it wasn't even funny. The weather hadn't helped either, it made him feel cold and achey. He tried so hard to keep it together but the pain became too much. He needed relief and there was one person he could think of to help. He hated the idea of Y/N using her healing powers on him when she could use them for something much more valuable. He didn't want to inconvenience her with his pain but it was becoming agonizing. He sat and thought it over for a few more minutes when he finally caved and made his way down to her lab. He stood at the door and sighed,

"It's just this once."

Y/N was just about finished when she heard a small knock at the lab entrance. She got up and walked towards the door, she wasn't expecting to see Bucky when she opened it. He stood with his hand clutching his metal shoulder, his hair was unkempt and he had bags under his eyes.

"Hey, I thought you went to bed. Is everything okay?"

"Uh, not really. I hate to ask you this, especially this late, but-"

Suddenly thunder echoed through the lab and Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and his breath began to shake, using his hand to add more pressure to his shoulder.

"My shoulder hurts, and my arm too kinda." He looked down not wanting to meet her eyes.

"Like phantom pain?" She questioned

"Y-yeah, it feels like pins and needles. The vibranium feels heavy."

"Are you asking me to help you?" She asked in disbelief.

"I-if you don't want to that's fine I can manage."

"No, no come in, sit down."

She led him to one of the beds and guided his hand off his shoulder, eager to work on the one person she hadn't helped.

He winced in pain as he moved, his hand letting up the pressure it was omitting on his upper arm.

"Sorry," she stepped back for a second, "I need you to take off your shirt." In the dimly lit lab she could see him blush a little. "It'll be better if I have direct contact to the skin."

He complied, slowly and painfully taking off his blue Henley. She walked around to the side of the bed to begin.

"I'm just going to put my hands on your shoulder, okay?"

He gave a very tight nod and she began. Her hands danced across the mess of scar tissue where metal crept into his skin. She couldn't help but felt bad for what Hydra did to him. His breath hitched but his back slowly became more relaxed. She could feel his heart rate slowing and his breath even out.

"I'm halfway done, are you okay? " she was concerned. She had never been able to do this for Bucky before and didn't know how he'd react.

"Mhmm." he seemed content.

She stopped and moved to his front to place her hands on his collar bone. She tried not to make it too awkward by making eye contact but she glanced up anyway and met his blue eyes. They both quickly looked away and Y/N turned her attention back to his arm. She stopped when she felt she couldn't do anything more to help with the pain.

"Done, does that feel better?"

He immediately brought her in for a hug and whispered a quite,

"Thank you."

She hugged back happily,

"You're welcome."

It gets better I promise. It was originally a one shot but it evolved.

[endless-summer-soldier]

dr. feelgood - chapter eleven

pairing: Surgeon!Bucky x SurgicalIntern!Reader

summary: Y/N has a one night stand with a handsome stranger the night before starting her new job as a surgical intern. Little does she know, the handsome stranger also happens to be her new boss

warnings: must be 18+, drinking, some surgery descriptions, smut, self-pleasure, praise kink, oral sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, PTSD, choking, angst

word count: 3.9k

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taglist: @tellmealovestory @mrs-bucky-barnes106 @charmedbysarge @theroyalmanatee @ozwriterchick @aya-fay @differenttyphoonwerewolf @elizabeth916 @buckyb-stan @normalgirlnextdoor @hnnhbananananana @sebastians-love @buckybarnessimpp @sebsgirl71479 @notmeddy @drewsuncrustables @lokidokieokie @hextech-bros @nats-whore @m4nulup1n @arcanebabe @tanyaspartak @jackiehollanderr @princezzjasmine @pono-pura-vida @mavrellover91 @helluvapimp @almosttoopizza @esposadomd @zannemes​​

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It was the morning from hell. I knew the moment I got in my car that it was not going to be a good day, and that turned out to be the case before I even made it into work. Now I was riding to the hospital in an ambulance, straddling a stranger and performing CPR.

“We’re about a minute out,” the EMT who was driving the vehicle called.

“Page Barnes,” I replied, as I counted out my chest compressions. The EMTs were adamant that they could handle the patient, but I wasn’t leaving his side and I was determined to keep him alive. I heard the doors to the ambulance open and the EMTs carefully unloaded the gurney keeping it as smooth as possible for me to work.

“What the hell…Y/N?” I heard. It was the first time he had spoken to me in weeks.

“Male in his forties, partially deaf. He was walking in a crosswalk and was hit head on by a car. He’s got a broken femur and has been in and out of consciousness with a really weak pulse.”

Bucky turned to the interns and said, “Take over for Y/L/N and get him to CT.” 

One of the interns came over to the patient’s side to take my place and I replied, “I’ve got it.”

“Y/N, you’re bleeding,” Bucky stated firmly.

I turned toward him, “I’m fine,” I argued.

“You need to be examined.”

“Bucky,” I pleaded. He just shook his head and held out his hand. I knew arguing was no use, he could easily pull me down and I didn’t need a reminder of what it felt like to be in his arms. I climbed toward the side and took his hand as I jumped down.

“Go take an empty bed, I’ll send someone in to check on you.”

“I’m fine, I don’t need-”

“Let’s make sure, okay?” His eyes were full of concern, and I didn’t have it in me to argue with him, even if I disagreed. I nodded and he moved with the gurney into the pit.

“Buck?” I called before he could get too far. He stopped and turned back towards me. “Please don’t let him die.”

“He’s not going anywhere. I promise.” Bucky ran to catch up with his team. I thanked the EMTs and then found an empty station in the ER where I waited and hoped for the best..

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since our arrival, but eventually Dr. Wilson came by.

“Hey there, Wonder Woman,” Sam said, approaching the bed I was sitting on.

“Wonder Woman?” I replied.

“Oh that’s what they’re calling you now.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a hero. And a badass.”

I scoffed, “I was in the right place at the right time.”

“Yet you still managed to get scratched up,” he put on a pair of gloves. “What happened?”

I sighed, “I was driving to work and came to a stop at a redlight. The car next to me was looking to the left to make a right turn and accelerated, not seeing the pedestrian in the crosswalk. Clint, he’s the guy who got hit, he’s partially deaf and didn’t hear the car coming. The guy hit the accelerator pretty hard and didn’t break until he saw Clint hit the windshield.”

“That doesn’t explain how you got glass in your forehead.”

“I pulled over to the right to help out and the guy who started the accident backed up and hit my car.”

“Jesus. Was he drunk?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t really talk to him.”

“So what did you do?”

“I yelled for someone to call 911 and started to examine Clint. At first he was in shock, but he was responsive. So I asked him his name and about his job and his life to calm him down. He probably has a concussion. He kept losing consciousness and his pulse was really weak so they need to look at his heart too.”

“He’s already been taken in for scans.”

“Is he stable?”

“He’s stable.”

I eased at that, feeling better already. 

“Now sit still. I’m going to pull out this glass from your forehead. Then I’ll clean out the lacerations and stitch you up.”

Sam started pulling out small pieces of crushed glass and placed them into a bowl. All the shards were pretty small, but it was still painful. I tried to keep the wincing to a minimum but it wasn’t comfortable. Talking seemed like a good way to keep me distracted from the pain.

“So they sent the head of plastics to come tend to a couple scrapes on my forehead.”

Sam chuckled, “Bucky wanted to do it himself but I wouldn’t let him. You would’ve ended up with two big scars on your pretty little forehead.”

I let out a small smile, “Yeah I don’t think his talents would be best served stitching me up.”

“Stitching? You know that man doesn’t do sutures; you would’ve been glued back together.”

I let out a hearty laugh, knowing Sam was correct.  He added, “He wanted the best for you, which is why I volunteered. Told him I’d give you the VIP treatment.”

I sighed, “Just stitch me up so I can go help.”

“I’m sending you to CT after this.”

“What!?”

“You were in a car accident, Y/N. I’d be a bad doctor if I didn’t order you a head CT.”

“I don’t have any symptoms!”

“You’re also running on adrenaline. Just get the scans done and we’ll figure out next steps from there”

“Fine.” I was getting used to not getting my way today.

“Sit tight for now. We’ll have someone take you to get your scans shortly.”

“Dr. Barnes, Clint’s back from CT. He seems much more stable now. Dr. Rogers is in there examining his femur,” one of the interns provided him an update. He thanked him and headed back to Clint’s room. Sure enough, Steve was in there, examining the break in his leg and studying the chart. Bucky knocked on the open door before walking through to his patient.

“Mind if I interrupt?” he said. 

“Not at all,” Steve said. 

“Hi Clint. I’m Dr. Barnes. I'm head of the trauma team and I’ve been overseeing your care since you got here.”

 “How am I looking, doc?”

“You’re doing really well. Dr. Rogers here is going to take you into surgery to repair your femur. You have a little bit of internal bleeding that we’re gonna fix up while you’re in there. As long as everything goes smoothly, you should be able to live a perfectly normal life.”

He let out a sigh of relief, “Thank God she was there.”

“Dr. Y/L/N?” Steve asked.

“Is that Y/N?” Clint asked. 

“She’s one of our best” Steve confirmed with a nod.

“She was so badass. She came out of nowhere and took complete control of everything. I was freaking out and she just came over, started talking to me and calmed me down. She was yelling out commands to everyone and insisted the ambulance take us here. She stayed with me the whole time. It was amazing.”

“Sounds like Y/N,” Bucky said.

“Is she single? Do you think she’d go out with me? I figure I owe her dinner at the very least.”

Steve eyed Bucky and raised an eyebrow, forcing Bucky to answer that question.

“I…uh…I don’t know. You’d have to ask her.”

“If you see her, would you mind sending her in? So that I can thank her.”

Steve could see Bucky growing jealous and he hoped it might knock some sense into his friend.

“Yeah, I think she’s getting some scans done,” was all Bucky could muster. Steve jumped in to review the plan for surgery and let Clint know they were currently prepping the OR for him. Bucky excused himself and went to check on Y/N before he had to scrub in.

After what seemed like ages, all my scans were done and I sat there half-watching soap operas, waiting for the results. I heard the curtain pull back and figured it was Sam with my results.

“Can I go?” I whined. When I turned toward the visitor, I was surprised to find it wasn’t Sam at all. It was Bucky. “Hi…” I managed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, looking at my chart. 

“I’m fine. How’s Clint?” 

“He’s good. We’re about to take him down to surgery. Steve is going to fix his femur and he has a little internal bleeding so we’re going to patch that up.”

��So he’ll be okay?”

“He should be fine.”

“Good.”

“He was asking about you.”

“Really?”

“Sounds like you did a great job at the scene.”

I gave him a half smile, “Thanks.”

“I got your scans back and everything looks good. Just take it easy the next few days. Sam will keep an eye on your lacerations and will remove your stitches in five days.”

“So I can go?” I asked.

He nodded, “I’ll sign your discharge papers. But you are going home. You aren’t sticking around here.”

I wanted to protest, but I knew he was probably right. He placed my chart back on the edge of the bed and turned to go.

“That’s it?” 

“What, did you have questions?”

“Bucky, you haven’t even looked at me these past few weeks and now you’re just gonna act like nothing happened?”

He looked up at the ceiling before looking back towards me, “We’re not doing this.”

“Come on, Bucky. Please talk to me.”

He shook his head, and just walked away, leaving me sitting there, feeling hopeless.

After a few days of restless “rest” I returned to the hospital, hoping to get cleared so that I could clock in for my shift. I had all the nurses page Sam as I anxiously sat in the waiting room.

“You’re a day early,” Sam called as he walked toward the row of chairs.

“I’m actually just a spectacular patient who follows all the doctor’s care instructions.”

Sam gave me a look but sat in an open chair and signaled for me to lean in. He gently placed his hands on my face and tilted my head to study the wound.

“It is healing up pretty nicely. We can get those stitches out today.”

“Yessss,” I celebrated. 

“Go pop in one of those empty rooms and I’ll be right in.”

I followed his directions and told the nurses which room I was taking. Sam entered a few moments later with his tools.

He started removing the surgical thread and I couldn’t stand the silence, so I made small talk.

“How is he?” I asked.

“Who Clint? His surgery went well as far as I know. You can probably go see him today.”

“Oh…I, uh, I meant Bucky.”

“Oh,” Sam said, taken by surprise. “He’s uh…he’s Bucky.”

“That’s very helpful,” I said sarcastically.

“Well I don’t know what to say. He’s…he’s not himself.”

“How do I get him to talk to me?” I hated how desperate I sounded, but it reflected how I felt. It was only getting worse for me. 

Sam let out a deep exhale. “If I knew the answer to that, I would’ve told you weeks ago.”

“It’s like he’s his own worst enemy.”

“He’s stubborn. But he’ll come around.”

“You think?”

Sam shrugged, pulling out the last of the sutures. “One way or another.”

His response was vague, but he left before I could question him further.

Once Sam officially cleared me, I changed into my scrubs. Before I officially clocked into my shift, I went to check on Clint. He was recovering for a few days in the hospital before he’d be released. I poked my head in the door and found Steve in the room, doing a quick check up.

“There’s my hero,” Clint said, smiling at me. I blushed and looked down before smiling back. 

“Am I interrupting?” I asked Steve.

“No, you can come in.” 

I stepped into the room and walked over to Clint’s side. 

“How are you feeling?” I asked him.

“Much better now.”

I smiled at him and then turned to Steve, “He’s doing okay?”

Steve nodded, “He’s doing great.”

“I told you I’d get you the best care,” I said to Clint.

“I think you gave me the best care. Without you, I don’t know that I’d be here.”

“Well, I guess we’ll never know,” I smiled. Clint grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Hey, so this situation has obviously had a big impact on me and I can’t thank you enough for everything you did”

“You don’t have to thank me. This is my job,” I replied.

“I know, but you made sure I was in good hands and taken care of. And I know I would regret it if I didn’t do this so I have to ask…would you like to go to dinner with me on Friday?”

I was shocked, not expecting this. Clint was a good looking man, and he would probably make a great boyfriend. But I wasn’t ready to give up on Bucky. 

“Like…on a date?” I asked for clarification.

“Yeah, a date,” he said confidently. I was looking at Clint but I could feel Steve’s eyes on me as I responded.

I placed my other hand on Clint’s, so that his hand was sandwiched between mine, “Clint, I am so flattered, but I’m not really in a place to date at the moment.”

“Is Friday not a good time? Because I’m flexible, we could do Saturday. Or whenever you’re free really.”

I smiled at him, “It’s not the day. I just…” I considered my words carefully, “my heart belongs to someone else.” I kept my focus on Clint, not able to handle Steve’s knowing glance.

“Ah, of course you have a boyfriend. Lucky bastard.”

“But I’ll still swing by and make sure you’re doing okay before you’re discharged.”

Clint gave my hand a sweet kiss and said, “I will always be so grateful for you Y/N. I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

“Same to you Clint. You’ve got a long life ahead of you, don’t waste it.” With that, I released his hand and stepped out of the room.

Once Sam finished removing Y/N’s stitches, he knew he had to find Steve. Sam had a busy morning ahead of him and was grateful when he ran into Steve pouring a cup of coffee in the resident’s lounge on his break.

“We gotta do something,” Sam said.

“About what?” Steve asked, sipping on his java. Sam gave him a look that said it all. “Bucky and Y/N?” Steve added. 

Sam nodded, “He’s miserable and she’s still pining. And I don’t know how much longer I can watch this.”

“I feel the same way. Two idiots in love.”

“So what do we do?”

Steve thought for a moment “We need to get them in the same place at the same time. That’s not the hospital.”

“And has alcohol,” Sam added.

“But not Pym’s. Somewhere more…private.”

“Can we get her to Bucky’s house?” Sam asked. A wide grin spread over Steve’s face.

“No, but I think we can get her to mine…”

I rang the doorbell of the house, feeling slightly nervous. This was my first “work” party and I had no idea what to expect. Honestly. I was surprised that I was even invited. I had been working with Steve on ortho all week and it had been going well. Still, I wasn’t expecting an invitation to his housewarming party. I wasn’t really looking forward to the party, but wanted to make an appearance. At the very least, I thought I might see Bucky in a somewhat normal setting where I could maybe corner him and force a conversation.

What I did not expect was for Bucky to answer the door. I’m sure I looked stunned as I said, “Oh, hi.”

“Hi…” he said, as if seeking an explanation. He was dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, and he was barefoot.

“Am I early?” I asked him.

Now he looked thoroughly confused. “Early for what?”

“The housewarming party…” Bucky was still squinting in confusion, so I added, “Steve told me to bring gin…”

Bucky shook his head, “Um, Steve isn’t here. And he’s lived in this house for three years.”

Now it was my turn to look confused. “...What?”

Bucky sighed, “This is a set up.”

Again, I said, “What?”

“They meddled. They’re forcing us together.”

“So…why are you here then?”

“I’m dog-sitting for Steve.”

“Oh,” I said, finally realizing what had happened. Despite being fooled, I didn’t feel embarrassed. And I didn’t want to go home just yet.

“So….can I come in?” I asked. Bucky looked like he wasn’t sure what to say. “I have gin,” I cheesed, holding up the full bottle of Tanqueray. 

He bit back a smile and opened the door wider, allowing me to come inside. I was immediately met by a smiling golden retriever. I placed the gin on a nearby table and crouched down in order to give some love to the pup.

“This is Liberty,” Bucky introduced.

“Hello Liberty!” I exclaimed, scratching her behind the ears as she happily panted. She quickly laid onto her back and I started scratching her belly, as she rolled around happily.

“She’s so sweet,” I commented.

“Yeah, she is pretty great.” Bucky was a few feet away in the kitchen and asked, ‘Do you want something to drink?” I picked up the Tanqueray and brought it over to him.

“Just a gin and tonic or gin and soda. Whatever Steve has.” I slid the bottle across the counter toward him as he pulled out two glasses.

“So tequila is for celebrating, whiskey is for wallowing…what is gin for?” he asked, as he poured a generous amount of gin into each of the glasses. He topped the drinks off with a little bit of tonic and then sliced up a lime and placed a wedge into each glass.

“Gin is for…heart-to-hearts,” I offered. He eyed me cautiously before handing me one of the glasses. I held it up, waiting for him to meet my glass, and eventually he did. Once we clinked, we both took a sip, and then stood there awkwardly in the kitchen.

“Are you ready to talk to me?” I offered, not wanting to waste any more precious time.

He shook his head, “Not really.” 

I took a seat at the kitchen island and pulled out another stool, signaling for him to sit. He looked at the seat before finally giving in and sitting down next to me.

He turned to look at me and yet again I said, “Hi.” This was turning into my catch phrase around him. But I uttered it now because I wasn’t sure where to start.

Bucky let the slightest bit of a smile show and said, “Hi.” He broke eye contact and stared into his drink, and I realized I might need to nudge him a bit more.

“Look, if you’re not ready to talk about what happened, that’s okay. But I can’t take the silent treatment anymore. I’m going crazy and I don’t know how to help you.”

He let out a deep breath, “I’m not good at opening up...”

 “Then just…tell me about your day.” He peered back up at me, uncertain and I shrugged, “We’ve gotta start somewhere.”

And so he did. He told me about the cases he had and I interjected with a cheeky comment every now and then to try and ease some of the tension, which surprisingly worked. Talking with him was always so easy and I just wanted to remind him of that. As the story of his day winded down, I took the liberty of refilling the now empty glasses with gin. I placed the fresh drink in front of Bucky and pushed, “Tell me about the PTSD.”

He surprised me when he didn’t argue. He mentally prepared by gulping down a third of his fresh drink.

“When I first got back from Afghanistan, it was pretty bad. It mostly manifested when I went to bed, in the form of night terrors. It was really terrible for a while. I would wake up in the morning surrounded by feathers with a knife in my bed, having attacked one of my pillows because I thought it was an enemy. I literally would walk through the house looking for weapons in my sleep. After that, I started locking the door and seeing a therapist who helped me work through a lot of it. And I started to get better. I still had the occasional nightmare, but I was able to manage it. I started to feel like myself again. I could get through most days without a flashback and I wasn’t constantly haunted by memories.”   

I could see him starting to get emotional, so I reached out for his hand.

“Seeing you, with those marks on your neck, was evidence that I’m still broken. We’re lucky that this time it was just my hands and not a knife or a baseball bat. I can’t risk something happening to you.”

“Bucky, you are more than your PTSD. Did you ever consider that maybe we could work through this together?” I offered. He didn’t look at me, focusing all his energy on the drink in front of him. “You just pushed me away without even considering our options.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Bull. Shit. Things got tough and you bailed. Did you know I pulled you out of your haze? You had your hands around my neck and I was able to stop you and bring you back. So I believe we can work through this. Maybe it's locking the doors at night. Maybe we don’t have sleepovers for a little while. I don’t know the solution, but I’m willing to figure out something that works.”

“Y/N…” he sighed.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t give up on us.” Now I was starting to get emotional. My voice cracked as I continued. “You know we have something special. Hell, you knew before I did. And I resisted against this the best I could because I didn’t want to get distracted. Which backfired because trying not to think about you was more distracting than just succumbing to your charms. But I figured it out and I opened myself up to something more and just when I finally accept that I’m falling in love, this happens. And the thing that hurts the most is how quickly you decided to throw this away. To throw…me…away,” the last line came out as a whisper. 

Bucky bore his eyes into his drink, unable to watch her tear up and in so much pain, knowing he caused all of this. It felt like a lose-lose situation, either way she ended up hurt. At least if he pushed her away, she still had the chance to live a happy life.

I wiped away a stray tear with the heel of my hand and took a big sip of my drink, trying to distract myself from the feelings creeping up inside me. When I looked over at Bucky, he was frozen but there was no emotion behind his eyes. He was fixated ahead, refusing to look at me. That was the moment I realized this was a lost cause. There was nothing else I could say.

I let out the deep breath I didn’t realize I was holding and placed my near-empty glass on the counter.

“Okay then,” I said, collecting the few things I brought with me. “Goodbye, Bucky.”

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜꜱ [5]

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Reader

series masterlist || series playlist || chapter song

Summary: Drowning in women and designer drugs, Bucky Barnes of Valkyrie’s Revenge is in a race to rock bottom. Fed up, his bandmates give him an ultimatum—straighten up, or fuck off. In a last, desperate bid to maintain his place, he agrees to return to the one place he swore he’d never set foot again—home.

Warnings: Angst, Drug Addiction, Depression, Suicidal ideation, Mental Health issues, Toxicity, Recreational Drug use, Hard drug use, PTSD, Dealing with trauma, Slow Burn, Fluff, MINORS DNI, [More to be added]

A/N: whew. this chapter… i tried to warn you guys, i really did. buckle up!! as always, i recommend you listen to the chapter song while reading, or alternatively, listen to the fic playlist! thank you so much for reading! divider by @firefly-graphics​

series playlist || chapter song

This work is entirely unbeta’d, and unedited. Though I don’t own any of Marvel’s characters, this work and the plot contained inside are entirely mine. I do not consent for this work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Enjoy 😘

It’s Iris’ shaking that wakes you, her little hands jerking your shoulder back and forth as you blearily open your eyes to the almost total darkness. 

 “Mommy, mommy there’s somebody at the door,” she says, her voice nervous. You sit up, rubbing at your eyes. It takes you a moment to process what she’s said, and you listen for a few seconds, but hear only the quiet sounds of the house settling, dripping faucets, branches scratching against the plastic siding. 

 “Wha?” You shake your head. “No, baby, it’s bedtime, nobody comes around this late—” You’re interrupted by a fierce round of knocks—some of them so loud, you’re fairly certain the person responsible is kicking your door. It only takes a moment for you to go from sleepy to high-alert, your eyes flicking between your daughter and your bedroom door. 

 “See?” She whimpers, clamoring onto the bed and clutching at you. You detangle yourself from your anxious daughter, and reach under the bed for the baseball bat you keep there—just in case. Even though your heart is pounding, you know you can’t show her how scared you are—Iris is only as calm as you are. 

 “Kiddo, you’re going to stay right here in mommy’s room, okay? I’m going to go downstairs and see who’s at the door.” You softly close the door behind you, jumping as the doorbell rings just before the knocks resume. With sweaty hands, you grip the worn handle of your father’s bat, and edge down the stairs towards the door. You hear a loud crack, like wood splintering outside the door, and then—your name?

 “Open the do-hic-ooor,” Bucky moans, and through the thick frosted glass you see him rest his forehead against the little window at the top of the door. You fumble with the chain, the bat clattering as it hits the floor. You turn the handle, and Bucky practically falls inside. He stumbles over the threshold, and you scramble to catch him so that he doesn’t clip his head on the end table. He rests heavily on you, his head lolling. 

 “Bucky?!” You hiss his name. “What—what are you doing?” He attempts to stand up, straightening his jacket as he shoves his hands into his pockets. You resist the urge to slam the door as he shoulders past you—you don’t need Iris more riled up than she already is. “Are you fucking crazy?”

 He staggers against the wall. “I n-needed t’see you.” His watery smile is barely even that, a slight upturn at the corners of his trembling mouth before he drags the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead. “Wan’ to see you,” he repeats, slurring. 

 “Bucky it’s fucking two a.m.” You throw your hands up. “It’s fucking two a.m. and you are scaring my fucking kid!” You’re tempted to hit him, to slap some fucking sense into him because clearly he doesn’t have any right now. Your hand twitches at your side as you tamp the urge back down. 

 “My fucking kid,” he retorts, and you feel a portion of your righteous anger break off and crumble into guilt. “Isn’t s-she?” He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it. He glares at you with lidded, red-rimmed eyes. You want to say no, you know you should, for the sake of your peace, your daughter’s peace, to uphold the promise you’d made to your parents, to yourself. 

 But you can’t. It won’t come. You’re floundering watching his face contort into some unnameable expression. You don’t know how he’s figured it out, how his addled brain has finally put the pieces together. 

 “I w-wanna see her.” He slurs, and tries to step around you. You block him, shoving him backwards. 

 “You’re high out of your fucking mind Bucky! I don’t even want you in my fucking house!” You shrill.  “Where’s Steve?” Bucky hunches his shoulders defensively. His glassy eyes roll as he tries to deny what you can plainly see. 

 “‘M’not high,” he mumbles. “I—” 

 “Bucky you can’t even speak!” You yell, and then wince, hoping Iris isn’t listening at the top of the stairs. “You show up here at the most ungodly fucking hour, demanding to see Iris— “ You cut yourself off, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Bucky you fucking terrified her, okay? You—I’m going to call Steve.”  Your exasperated words make him flinch. He tries to stop you as you reach for your phone, but his movements are heavy and slow. 

 “That lying piece of shit. Don’t—” He reaches for you, and you slap his hand away, your heart pounding. 

 “Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do in my house.” 

 “I’ll l-leave. If you call him.” He threatens, his voice hard. His pupils are dilated wide, his eyes wet, but you can tell he means it. You know you shouldn’t feel responsible for Bucky, not now, not ever again, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling it anyway. You scrub a frustrated hand over your face, tangling your fingers in your hair before you squeeze your eyes shut, regretting the decision before it even comes out of your mouth. 

 “Okay, fine,” you relent, holding your hands up. “No Steve. But you can’t see Iris like this.” Bucky looks rough. You know he’s been out partying, doing only God knows what—his eyes are red-rimmed and watery, his nose red and irritated. He looks like he’s going to argue with you, but after a moment snaps his mouth shut angrily.

 “Fine.”

 “You can sleep on the couch.” You say stiffly. “I’m going to go get you a blanket. Stay down here.” The words are curt, short as though you’ve bitten off their edges. He opens his mouth, and you’re not sure you want to hear what’s going to come out of it next, so you turn away, and march directly up the stairs. You wait at the top to hear the tell-tale creak of the first stair, but it doesn’t come. 

 For a few seconds, you pace on the landing, hands balled into fists and pressed against your closed eyes. Bucky is here. He knows. He knows. He knows. You can’t stop the endless refrain inside your own skull, panicked tears tightening your throat as you try to swallow against them. 

 Calm down. Iris can’t see you like this.

 You take slow, hiccoughing breaths, swallowing back the tears and anger until they’re gathered into a tight, hot ball in your chest. Forcing it down, you head for your bedroom. 

 Your door is cracked open, and Iris peers at you guiltily through the gap. You almost want to laugh as she jumps backwards, hopping nervously from foot to foot as you cross your arms. 

 “I thought you were supposed to be in bed,” you say, raising an eyebrow. Iris scuffs her foot guiltily against the floor. 

 “I, um, I heard Mr. Bucky,” she admits, and you have to stop yourself from smacking a frustrated palm against your forehead. “Why is he here, Mommy?” 

 You’ve never felt more like shit than in this moment—you can’t tell her. Not like this. 

 “He’s… he’s not feeling well, babes. He’s going to rest downstairs, on the couch.” 

 Iris looks at you excitedly. “So he’ll be here for breakfast?!”

 “No.” You say quickly, and her round eyes go glassy. “He has somewhere to be tomorrow morning, so he’ll be gone when we get up for school.” You’re not sure if you’re saying this for her benefit, or yours. “Into bed.” You say, patting the mattress. “You’re sleeping with me tonight.” 

 Bucky is standing in front of the fireplace in your living room. It doesn’t work, but the hearth serves as a display wall of sorts. Framed pictures of Iris, photos of you two together, your parents, your life. There’s a sort of sad bemusement on his face, like he can’t believe your life went on without him. That you had lived without him. You watch as he reaches forward to trace Iris’ face through the glass, and wonder if he’s looking for the parts of her that reflect him.

 You clear your throat and he turns, guiltily shoving his hands into his pockets. The silence is so heavy between you, you aren’t sure if you can carry it. Luckily for you, Bucky breaks it first. 

 “I dunno how I didn’t see it the first time,” he says with a sad, hoarse little laugh. “She looks just fuckin’ like me.” You’re not sure what you hate more. The fact that he said it, or the fact that it was true. “Kid’s wearing my goddamn face and it took me a month to notice it.” He turns like he’s going to grab a picture off of the shelf but misjudges the distance, and stumbles against the wall with a thud. 

 “Jesus, Buck!” You rush over to him to stop him falling. Grunting, you loop one of his arms over your shoulders. He goes with you easily, mumbling something you don’t understand as you half drag him towards the couch. “You need to lay the fuck down.” You growl, sloughing him onto the cushions. He lands with a soft “oof”, and begins kicking at his boots. 

 “Hold on—christ— I’ll help you.” You tug his boots off and toss them to the floor as he curls in on himself. 

 You’re not sure how a man his size can look so small, so fragile, but he does. The angry, bitter part of you wants to throw the blanket and pillow on the floor in a heap, but you don’t. You spread it out over his sleeping form and he mumbles, twitching. Carefully, you reach to tuck the pillow under his head, and pause as your fingers brush his cheek. You let them linger for a moment before pulling your hand back quickly, and cradling it against your chest. 

 You turn sharply and head back for the staircase. 

 “Goodnight. Jellybean.”

 His voice stops you in your tracks, the raspy word making your throat tight. 

 He won’t remember it in the morning.

 You go upstairs. 

 Iris is asleep in your bed when you open the door. Sleep finds her easily, and you’re glad for it. It means she feels safe, something you don’t want to jeopardize with the man sleeping it off on your couch downstairs. 

 You suppose you had been lucky, not having to see him like Steve did, strung out and barely coherent. If you can help it, Iris will be spared that sight forever. Fists clenched determinedly in the duvet, you stare at the ceiling, waiting for—you don’t know what you’re waiting for. The doorknob to jiggle, for sounds of destruction to arise from downstairs, the sound of his voice, for sleep—for anything. 

 And then, finally, you sleep. 

 🎤

This isn’t Steve’s house.

 Bucky stares up at the unfamiliar ceiling, counting the minutes until the memories begin to trickle back into his skull. He remembers scoring—easier now than it ever was, considering. Every bar-back knows a guy who knows a guy who can get him what he wants, all he has to do is ask. 

 And boy did he fucking ask.  

 He remembers the disembodied rolling bliss, remembers you, your disappointed face. Bucky groans, sitting up. The blanket falls to his lap, and he furrows his brows, picking up the edge. He knows what Kitty will say when he comes to meeting today. It’s a small town and word travels fast. Bucky knows he wasn’t exactly discreet. He’s used to it by now, the well of disgust and shame that begins to grow in his stomach the more he recalls. 

 It was inevitable, the demon whispers, and Bucky wonders fearfully if it’s right.

 I shouldn’t have come here, he thinks to himself as he looks around. His head is  still cottony with the pill-hangover, but he knows enough to know he’s an invader here. Why did he even come? The pitiful confrontation he’d forced had gone nowhere, ending with him passed out on your sofa. Bucky rubs his temples. 

 The whole house smells like caramel apple, your favorite candle. Bucky doesn’t know why he still knows that, but he does. It’s neat enough, but there are signs of life everywhere. Iris’ toys, your books. And in the corner, your guitar. It’s well taken care of, the used Sweetwater you’d managed to get your hands on. He remembered the day you’d found it, rescuing it from the attic of Kevin Harris’ grandmother’s place after she passed. 

 “Good, you’re up.” Your clipped voice sounds from the doorway. He looks up to see you, still in the oversized shirt you used for pajamas and leaned against the wall. You look tired, and Bucky knows it’s his fault. “How are you feeling?” 

 He laughs dryly. “Like an asshole.” He’s a wrecking ball. “Is, um. Is Iris…?”

 “She’s fine,” you say, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before you fold your arms across your chest. “She didn’t see you.” He’s thankful for that, at least. “I called Steve. He’s on his way.” 

 Bucky grimaces. He doesn’t want to see Steve, not after—

 “Why did you tell Steve and not me?” He blurts,. “Why did you tell him about Iris?”

 “He guessed,” you say defensively. “And even if I had, that’s my business. You made your choices very clear, Bucky.” You glare at him from across the room. He doesn’t know what to say to that—you’re right. 

 “She’s my daughter.” 

 “Bucky. I couldn’t—last night? I… How could I let you meet her like that?” 

 The shame burns in his throat and he swallows tightly against it. 

 “I know. But I—” The sound of someone at the door makes the both of you jump. 

 “I’ll be right back,” you say, and disappear down the hall. Bucky stands, folding the blanket you’d given him and placing it neatly on the couch cushions. He hears your footsteps recede, and then the sound of the door lock unlatching. Your voice floats down the hall, quiet but audible. 

 “Oh—Andy.”

 And then a distinctly male voice. “I wanted to stop by, maybe help with drop-off today? I figured we could get breakfast together after.” 

 “I, um. You know what, Andy? Now is just really not a good time—”

 “Is that your bat? Did something happen last night?” He sounds concerned. “Is everything okay?”

 “Yes, yes everything’s fine, no—wait, Andy I said it’s not a good time—”

 Bucky backs away from the archway just as Andy rounds the corner. His shocked face contorts with anger as he whips his head around. 

 “What the hell is he doing here?”

 Bucky feels hot anger flare in his chest as he crosses his arms. “Could ask the same of you.” Andy takes a step forward before you grab his arm.

 “Would the two of you just fucking stop? Andy I said it’s not a good goddamn time!” Bucky watches you run a frustrated hand through your hair, tugging on it before letting go. He shouldn’t feel so territorial—you aren’t his. That doesn’t stop the sneer from curling his lip as he watches the other man reluctantly stand down. 

 “What is he doing here?” Andy asks again, and you purse your lips. 

 “Andrew Barber this is my house. I do not have to explain myself to you.” Andy looks positively murderous at that, but says nothing, crossing his arms as he levels a hard look at Bucky. “He crashed on my couch last night. Happy?”

 “No.” Andy replies without taking his eyes off of Bucky. “You should have called me.” There’s a possessiveness in his tone that makes Bucky’s hackles rise. He’s the one with history, it’s Andy who’s the newcomer. What right does he have, to look at Bucky like the interloper? He doesn’t like the way Andy positions himself between you, a hand on the curve of your hip over the t-shirt. It’s familiar in a way that makes Bucky want to bare his teeth in warning. 

 You let her go, the demon reminds him. You threw her away like trash. He is pleased, though, to see you shove Andy’s hand away as you place your hands on your hips stubbornly. 

 “I’m an adult, Andy, and I handled it.” You say, your hard glare daring him to challenge you. He doesn’t. “Besides. Bucky was just leaving.” You say it pointedly around Andy’s broad shoulders. 

 Bucky doesn’t want to leave now, especially not now that Andy is here, but there’s little room for him to argue, not when he sees Steve pull up in the pickup through the living room window. 

 “Yeah.” He mutters. “Just leaving.” He shoves his hands into his pockets as he heads for the door. You walk him out onto the porch, your arms still crossed over your chest. He looks past you to Andy, who smiles at him smugly. 

 “Try not to miss your meeting,” he says, and you whip your head around to glare at him, before closing the door behind you. 

 “Look, ignore Andy. He’s just—”

 “An asshole?” Bucky scoffs. “I didn’t think that was your type.” You scowl at him. 

 “Well, if he’s an asshole then I’m two for two, so it’s definitely my type.” You retort sharply. “Bucky, look. Last night—”

 “I fucked up,” he says quickly. He doesn’t want to hear you say it. He doesn’t know why, but for some reason he knows that hearing you tell him he fucking relapsed again would make him hurt worse than the fucking DT’s. “I know I fucked up.” 

 “You did,” you say, and he winces. That stings, too. Maybe worse. “You had three weeks, Buck. Why’d you throw that away?” 

 His lip curls. “Finding out you have a kid six years into their life isn’t really awesome news.” He snaps back. “You, Steve, you both lied to me.” He can’t help the accusatory pitch his tone takes. He knows you take note of it too, your eyes narrowing to angry slits. 

 “Oh bull-fucking-shit, Bucky,” you say, tossing your hands up. “Call after call after call, none of my fucking letters answered.” You shake your head at him. “What was I supposed to do? You shut me out! I wasn’t going to fucking chase you forever!” 

 “What?” Bucky steps back, reeling. “What are you talking about? I never got one fucking call—”

 “I am not doing this with you.” You say, pinching the bridge of your nose as you turn back towards the front door. “I am not going to fucking stand here and argue with you about what I know I did. You don’t get to show up high at my fucking house and demand to be treated like you would have been father of the year if you’d known.” 

 “Maybe I fucking would have!” He spits, the old venom welling up temptingly under his tongue. He regrets the words before they’re even fully out of his mouth. “If you hadn’t tried to trap me—”

 The slap echoes in his ears before he feels the sting of it, raising his own hand to his face where you had hit him.

 “Get the fuck out of here.” You spit through gritted teeth. Your eyes are wet with unshed tears, and the angry shame in Bucky’s chest grows until angry tears are pricking at his eyes too. It isn’t for you, his anger. No, it’s for himself—because there’s no one Bucky hates more than the man he sees reflected in your glassy eyes. 

 “Don’t fucking come back until you’re sober, you understand me?” You shove a finger into his chest. “I would rather tell her you’re dead than let her see you like this.” 

 You don’t wait for him to answer, instead you yank open the door and shut it in his face, barricading him on the other side. He’s tempted to bang on the door, to kick and punch at it until you’re forced to come back out again because this isn’t fucking over, dammit—

 But he doesn’t. 

 Bucky searches for the half empty carton of cigarettes in his jacket pocket, sticking one between his lips as he gets unceremoniously into the passenger seat of Steve’s pickup. 

 “Rough night?” He asks as Bucky straps himself in, and grabs for the lighter in the cupholder. He doesn’t answer right away, lighting the cigarette and exhaling a few clouds of acrid smoke as Steve pulls out into traffic. 

 “Yeah,” he says, tapping the ash out of the open window. He watches the row of brick and mortar houses fade into the distance in the rearview mirror. “Rough.” 

 🎤

 “Iron Man at your service, this is Tony.” Tina had been rather reluctant to patch Bucky through to Tony’s personal line, but after a few choice words—some of them threats—she had done so. 

 “Tony.” 

 “Bucky! How are you? How’s it going in Milton?”

 “Meridian.”

 “Whatever.”

 “Fine,” he says, choosing purposefully not to mention his bender just the night before. “Listen, did you uh. Ever get any letters, phone calls, or anything from anybody back home in Meridian?”

 “Bucky you get so much fucking fan-mail we could fill an olympic swimming pool with it—not now, baby, I’m on the phone,” he hears Tony stage whisper to someone who giggles. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

 “When I first signed up. They’d be old.” 

 “Probably? I mean nothing of note. You know we sort through the mail and give you the important stuff. Anything from your personal contacts, you would have seen. Look is there a point to this? Because I’ve got to tell you, I’ve got some pressing business to attend to, if you catch my meaning.”

 Bucky rolls his eyes. Tony has never thought twice about sampling from the buffet of groupies that seemed to tail Valkyrie’s Revenge like lost puppies. 

 “I need to know if I got letters about a kid, Tony.”

 “What?”

 “A fucking kid Tony. I need to know if we were contacted—”

 “I told you,” he says quickly, his tone dismissive. “If they got sent, you’d have seen ‘em, kid. Why? Somebody springing a paternity suit on us?” He hears Tony hush more people, excusing himself quietly. The background noise coming through the receiver seems to fade until there’s only quiet breathing on the other end. 

 “No. I mean—I don’t know. I just…” He pauses. You’d seemed so certain, so sure of yourself when you claimed you’d tried to contact him. Call after call… all my letters unanswered. “I want to know.” 

 “Well I can’t help you, pal,” Tony replies. “We’d have told you if we got them.” 

 “Yeah. Sure.” Bucky swallows against the lump in his throat. 

 “Keep me posted. This is why we have lawyers.” 

 Bucky hangs up without another word, frustratedly tossing his phone to the bed. He’d refused to speak to Steve when he asked him where he went, why he’d been gone all night. It was easy enough to deflect with an argument, a skill Bucky had learned the very first time his bandmates had tried to take him to task for his behavior. No one wants a screaming match at ten in the morning. 

 He can’t deflect himself, though, can’t stop the thoughts going round and round in his skull like a carousel. Someone had lied to him, someone had kept Iris from him. 

 And if not you, then who?

 Steve’s quiet knock on his door makes Bucky’s head snap up, his eyes narrowing as his friend steps across the threshold. He’s still angry, and Steve knows it, holding his hands up placatingly. 

 “Look. I know you don’t want to talk to me right now. But I’m heading out, and I think you should come with me.”

 Bucky eyes him suspiciously. “If you’re trying to drop me off at a facility this is a shitty fucking way to start.” Steve shakes his head. 

 “Not a facility.” 

 “Then where?”

 “You’ll see.” Bucky watches his friend’s face for a tell—Steve always was a terrible liar. There doesn’t seem to be one though, not that Bucky can see. He gets up slowly, and follows Steve back down the stairs and out the front door. Steve gets into the driver’s seat, and waits patiently for Bucky to catch up before the truck engine roars to life. Bucky is glad that Steve doesn’t force conversation, doesn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless platitudes as he drives. 

 He doesn’t turn toward Meridian, instead taking the dirt road north of town, away from the meager downtown strip and up into the hills. It’s a gloomy day, overcast and gray, with the occasional drop of rain splattering against the windshield. The back-roads are both familiar and strange to him now, it’s been so long since he’s driven them. 

 Bucky remembers that—driving full speed around the treacherous corners with you standing up through the sunroof, your arms outstretched like you were trying to touch the sky. He’d believed you could then, in those moments, that your fingertips could touch the deep unending blue. 

 That blue is gone, though, as are the people you were—Bucky doesn’t know you anymore. 

 He’s surprised, when Steve pulls up to the old graveyard and doesn’t pass by, slowing to a stop outside the gates. 

 “What are you doing?” Bucky asks, panic gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. “Steve—”

 “How long’s it been, Buck? Five years? Six?” 

 “Fuck you,” Bucky snarls, lunging forward to try and grab the keys from Steve himself. “I don’t want—”

 “For once, Buck, I could not give a shit less about what you want.” Steve stuffs the keys into his pocket and gets out of the car. “Come on.” He doesn’t wait for Bucky, pulling open one of the wrought iron gates with both hands. It opens with a rough squeal. Bucky reluctantly unbuckles himself, sticking a nervous cigarette between his lips as he follows him down the muddy path. His hands are trembling and unsure as he lifts the lighter, but his feet know the way without his direction. 

 The graves are right next to each other, just like they are in Bucky’s nightmares. The grass is green over the top of them, different from the loose dirt that had been shoveled on top just before Bucky had lit out of Meridian. 

 Should have been me.

 “Why did you bring me here?” Bucky asks, his throat tight with tears he doesn’t want to shed. The cigarette burns at his lips, and he flicks the remains of it into the damp grass behind him. 

 “It’s the one place you’ve been avoiding. You promised you would come back.” 

 Bucky flinches. 

 It’s the first promise he ever broke, the one he’d made as he tossed in his handful of dirt like the preacher told him to. They’re in a better place, he’d said, patting Bucky sadly on the shoulder. A better place. Bucky was too old then to believe the lie—there was no better place. Just cold, wet earth and worms and nothing. He wonders if the demon was born that day, coming up out of the dirt while his mother and sister were lowered into it, because he’d known he was lying, even as he spoke the soft words to Becca’s tombstone—

 He would never come back. 

 But here you are, his self loathing whispers. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.

 “It should have been me,” he says softly, stepping forward to rest his palm against the cold stone. “We all know it should have been me.” 

 “I don’t think Becca would agree with you.”

 “Well it doesn’t matter what you think,” Bucky snarls over his shoulder. “She’s dead.” Steve runs a frustrated hand through his hair. 

 “Yeah, Buck. She’s dead. She’s dead because Fred Ackerson’s truck jumped the guardrail.” Bucky doesn’t know why hearing that from Steve enrages him, makes him want to pummel his best friend’s face into pulp right there in the dirt next to his sister. 

 “You don’t understand,” he says through gritted teeth, his hand a tight fist on the tombstone. “If I had—” Steve grabs his shoulders, shaking him. 

 “What? What would you have done? She died on impact.” There are tears in his eyes too. “How long are you going to punish yourself for this shit, Buck?”

 “I deserve—”

 “Iris is six.” Steve’s words cut through him like a blade. “Do you want to see her make it to seven? Eight? Or do you want to be down there in the dirt?” He asks, his voice hard. “Because you won’t. Fuck, Bucky, you keep this shit up, I don’t think you’re going to see Christmas.” 

 “Maybe I shouldn’t.”

 “Yeah, well, that’s up to you, isn’t it?” Steve says, releasing him. “It’s always been up to you.” He casts a forlorn look at Becca’s tombstone over Bucky’s shoulder, before he shakes his head. “Say… whatever you need to say. I’ll be waiting for you in the truck.” The silence closes in around him like fog, so loud that Bucky’s ears ring with it as he stares at the graves. He’d never said anything at the funerals, his tight lipped silence as loud as any of the moving eulogies given by those that had known them. 

 Bucky clears his throat. “Hey, Beccs.” He says in a hoarse, quiet voice. “B-been a while, huh?” The ground is muddy, but he sits down on it anyway, on the strip of grass between his mother and sister. “I, um. I don’t know what to say. That’s why I never said anything, it all seemed… stupid, I guess. Because you can’t hear me where you are, so… what does it matter, right?” 

 He’s tempted to give up and go back to the car, but Bucky swallows down the bitter urge, and keeps trying. 

 “But… if you could hear me, Beccs, I’m—I’m fuckin’ sorry.” His voice cracks. It feels like glass in his veins to say it, to finally admit it out loud to the air. “I am so fuckin’ sorry.” He hates to think about that night, about pulling mom and Beccs out of the twisted burning metal. The only way he can is with the pills, but there aren’t any this time; nothing to stop him from having to sit with his pain.

 And for the first time in a long time, Bucky does. He welcomes it back like an old friend—and for once, the demon is silent. 

 “I’m sorry I didn’t turn fast enough, didn’t see him coming,” he mumbles through steady tears. “I’d give anything for it to be me in there, not you.” The tears won’t stop now that they’ve started. “Y-you were going to be fucking—I dunno. A fucking astrophysicist, or something, Beccs. A goddamn force, and I, fuck. I don’t know what to be without you, sis. I… I don’t even want to be.” He admits the last part softly, to himself. He hasn’t thought it, really, not beyond wishing he could trade places with her. 

 If he was honest, Bucky wanted to die. That was the truth of it. That was why he didn’t bother to save money, why he did every drug he could until he was blacking out. He wanted oblivion—like mom. Like Becca. 

 That’s not what Beccs would want. The voice is softer, not acid like the one that usually follows every conscious thought. 

 She would want you to live.

 Bucky isn’t sure how long he sits there in the cold drizzle before he gets up, wiping at his face. His hair is slick from the rain, and he shakes the droplets off of his coat before he gets into the passenger seat of Steve’s truck. He’s waiting—just like he said he was. 

 He starts it wordlessly, and they’re halfway back to Meridian when he asks him. 

 “Did you say what you needed to say, Buck?”  Bucky follows the path of a particularly fat drop of rain down the window with his finger until it passes from view. 

 “Yeah. I think so.” 

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