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helaintoloki · 2 months ago

Note

Can you write a fic between Bucky and an avenger reader (maybe she’s just a little older than Peter (like she’s in her mid 20s)and she always had a crush on Bucky)

notes: thank you for sending this in ! i hope you enjoy

warnings: fluff, mentions of night terrors

summary: you think you’re too young for Bucky to be interested in you. ironically, Bucky thinks he’s too old for you to be interested in him

“So how did that date go?” Wanda asks while watching you mindlessly scroll through the selection of movies Tony has on the entertainment room TV.

“I bailed,” Natasha admits shamelessly with an innocent shrug, prompting both Wanda and yourself to turn to her in shock. “I’m not really interested in giving up my personal time for something as trivial as a blind date.”

You hum thoughtfully at her response, only half listening as Wanda begins to pester her for more details about the man she had stood up. The three of you are enjoying a rare night of peace in the tower after forcing the men to vacate the premises and allow you to have the space to yourselves. The three of you are outnumbered on the team, so sometimes a break from the intense amounts of testosterone are needed for you all to decompress. Girl’s night is a simple tradition, but you all enjoy each other’s company more than anything.

“What about you, y/n?” Natasha prompts while gently nudging your side and breaking you from your daze. “Any guys out there you think are first date material?”

You shift uncomfortably now that the spotlight is on you and try to mask the embarrassment that washes over you in response to the question. You know your answer, but you think you’d rather die than admit the truth. You try to remain as nonchalant as possible by offering a seemingly uninterested shrug and answering with a quiet ‘No,’ but you unfortunately can’t hide the truth from a mind reader.

“She has a crush on Barnes,” Wanda blurts out before she can stop herself, causing your eyes to widen in horror at being exposed. Natasha lets out an amused huff while her counterpart quickly utters out apologies. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to say it. It’s just your thoughts get so loud when you think about him.”

“You don’t need to be a mind reader to know that,” Natasha jokes much to your dismay.

“Is it really that obvious?” You groan before allowing your head to fall back against the couch in defeat. Wanda pats your arm sympathetically, obviously still guilty about her slip up. You’re just thankful no one else is in the tower other than the three of you.

“Not to him,” the Widow consoles with a faint smile, “the man isn’t exactly the greatest at navigating social interactions. But I’ve seen the way you look at him from across the room and how your eyes light up when Steve puts you together on missions. You like him.”

“It’s pathetic, I know,” you admit with a defeated sigh, looking between the two in despair. “I don’t even know how it happened! One day we’re just teammates and the next I’m suddenly realizing just how blue his eyes are instead of paying attention to a debrief.”

“There’s nothing pathetic about your feelings,” Wanda says with a comforting smile, “it’s only natural. Maybe you should try talking to him about it.”

You look at her as if she’s grown a second head before scoffing at her suggestion. “You’re kidding, right? There’s no way I’d ever be his type. Besides, he probably sees me as some kid considering I’m only twenty-six and he’s basically a hundred years old.”

Natasha can’t help but to let out a small chuckle at your predicament before taking the remote from your fidgety hands. You don’t exactly appreciate her amusement towards your self-depreciating rant, but you know she means well, and you also know you have a tendency to be a bit dramatic.

“Don’t sell yourself short, y/n/n,” she advises before finally deciding to hit play on a random comedy movie. “Remember that you’re the prize, and any guy or girl would be lucky to have you. Besides, you’ll never know what could happen if you don’t give it a shot.”

The conversation ends there as your trio becomes engrossed with the movie, but her words linger on your mind for the rest of the night. You really doubt Bucky could have anything but platonic feelings for you, and it would be embarrassing to confess your feelings only to have him shoot you down. You don’t think you could show your face around the tower again if that were to happen, but you also know that you would give anything to win the super soldier’s heart.

Your inner turmoil persists, and you go to bed that night unsure of how to move forward.

~~~

“Barnes, y/l/n, how are you holding up?”

“We’re pretty much fucked, Cap,” you grunt into your earpiece after being slammed against a wall. You thought the room had been cleared, but you were soon proven wrong by the assailants who had been hiding in the shadows waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Bucky was currently taking on three on his own while you tried to fight off the woman who seemed hell bent on killing you. “If I survive this will I still be written up for swearing?”

“Focus, y/n,” Natasha’s voice chimes in. “Do you guys need backup?”

You manage to chance a glance over at Bucky and see that he’s fairing rather well on his own, and after returning your attention back to your own attacker, you swiftly lift your knee so that it slams into her gut and forces her to stumble back. It doesn’t take you long to disarm her and render her unconscious so that she no longer proves to be a threat, and you’re finally able to return to your own task.

“No, we’re good. Bucky should be able to hold them off while I plant the chip into the computer system,” you finally reply before setting to work. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“I hope so because they’ve got reinforcements already on the way,” Tony alerts over the earpiece. “You need to be out of there within the next five minutes.”

“Yep, you got it,” you affirm before looking over your shoulder to see Bucky finishing off the last of your attackers. His broad shoulders rise and fall with his labored breaths, hair falling perfectly into place and blue eyes looking up to meet your gaze. You swallow nervously and return your attention to the computer in an attempt to act inconspicuous. Luckily for you, the files you came for have been uploaded. “Alright, let’s get out of here before someone slams me up against another wall.”

“What?” Bucky retorts, eyebrows scrunched in confusion and cheeks slowly turning red at your poor choice of words. You pay him no mind and begin your trek towards the exit, though your stomach flips at the mere thought of having him cage you in against a wall and having you at his complete mercy. You shudder and try to shake the thoughts away, but it’s hard to do so when the man in question is right beside you matching your brisk pace.

“You okay?” He asks, eyes scanning your figure for any sign of injuries.

“Definitely going to have a bruise in the morning, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you note with an easygoing smile.

“I’m on dinner duty tonight,” Bucky notes thoughtfully before kicking down the doors and clearing your path to the outside. “You interested in lending a hand?”

“Oh, definitely. You and Steve can’t be trusted with dinner anymore after the last time.”

“I’ll have you know tuna casserole was a popular dish back in my day,” he retorts defensively only to make you laugh instead.

“Okay, grandpa, whatever you say,” you giggle much to his annoyance. He retaliates by playfully nudging your side with his elbow so that you stumble away, but he can’t hide the amused smile on his face at your antics.

“It’s about time,” Tony retorts impatiently after you two finally make it to the Quinjet. “I’d appreciate some sense of urgency, you know.”

“You said be back in five minutes, it’s only been three,” you reply defensively only to earn an eye roll from the man.

“You and Barnes can flirt with each other on your own time,” he quips to your dismay. You immediately feel yourself heat with embarrassment and do everything your power to avoid looking at Bucky who shifts uncomfortably beside you.

“We weren’t-“ Bucky starts to say only for Tony to interrupt.

“I don’t need the details, I just need both of your butts on the quinjet now.”

You’re mortified as you step foot inside where the rest of the team sits waiting. All eyes land on you and Bucky, and you try to ignore their gazes as you take your seat beside Wanda.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she whispers after leaning in closer to you, “his thoughts about you are loud, too.”

You swallow nervously and chance at a peek at the super soldier only to find he’s already looking right at you. You immediately turn your gaze towards the floor before sinking down sullenly into your seat.

It’s going to be a long flight home.

~~~

The tower is silent when you make your way to the living room in search of a distraction from the terrible nightmare you’d just endured. Your body still trembles with unease despite the blanket you have wrapped tightly around your figure, and it was times like these where you heavily contemplated begging Wanda to use her powers on you despite her reluctance to manipulate your mind.

There isn’t anything good playing this late on TV, but you don’t mind watching reruns of old sitcoms if it means you don’t have to sit in silence. You fixate your gaze on the screen, but you’re hardly paying any mind to your surroundings as you simply begin to dissociate. No one knows about the night terrors or the bad dreams that plague you after missions; you fear coming off as weak or unprepared for the life of an Avenger by telling any of your teammates about your dilemma, so you’ve learned to deal with it on your own by escaping through trivial distractions.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t detect the presence of someone else in the room until a hand rests on your bare shoulder. You jump, obviously startled as your wide eyes look to the perpetrator sitting beside you. Bucky immediately yanks his hand back and raises his hands in surrender, his features apologetic at having startled you.

“Sorry, sorry,” he immediately says. “I tried calling your name first but you weren’t exactly responding. You okay?”

“Yeah, I um- sorry,” you utter with a soft shake of your head before swallowing, “I just got lost in thought I guess.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

You normally would have insisted you were fine and tried to change the topic, but there was something about the gentleness in his eyes and the comfort his presence brought you that made it easier for you to open yourself up. You sigh, shifting in place so that you’re facing him now. He offers you a an encouraging smile and already you can feel yourself melting.

“Sometimes I have night terrors,” you confess quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it out loud. “They usually tend show up after a mission or an intense fight. When they happen I just come out here and watch some TV until my brain shuts up enough for me to get some sleep. Pathetic, huh?”

Despite the humorless laugh you let out, Bucky frowns before uttering, “I don’t think that’s pathetic at all. I get it. This job is tough, and sometimes you see things you can’t unsee no matter how hard you try. Don’t beat yourself up for having a normal human reaction to trauma.”

“You sound just like a therapist,” you tease, prompting him to let out a sheepish laugh in return.

“I may have picked up a thing or two in therapy myself,” he admits. A beat passes before he takes your hand in his own and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Just know that if you ever need help chasing the nightmares away, I’m right here.”

Your heart pounds in your chest while the warmth of his hold encompasses your hand and spreads throughout your entire body. His eyes are full of sincerity, but you also detect something that you’ve never seen from him before. This look is different than the ones he normally gives you, more intimate, and you find yourself nervously biting the inside of your cheek while trying to decipher what it could be.

“Thank you,” you finally voice with a tired smile. Wanting to lighten the mood, you ask, “How come you’re up this late, anyway?”

“Made the mistake of having a cup of coffee after dinner,” he confesses with an embarrassed chuckle. “You mind if I keep you company?”

“Of course not, silly,” you retort as if it’s the most absurd question you’ve ever heard.

You and Bucky settle into a comfortable silence as you tune in to the sitcom playing on the TV screen. A sense of calm has washed over your body now that you’re no longer being tormented by the remnants of your nightmare, but there’s still a part of you that remains nervous around the man you secretly harbor feelings for. You find your mind drifting back to what Wanda had said you earlier and wonder if there was any truth to her words. What did she mean by it?

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky prompts after the episode ends.

“Anything,” you reassure him, grabbing the remote to lower the television’s volume so that he can have your undivided attention.

“I know it’s just your way of poking fun at me, but when you call me ‘grandpa’ or ‘old man,’ is that… that’s not how you see me, is it? Old?”

You’re honestly taken back by his comment, not expecting him to have thought this heavily into the subject. Of course you knew the man was out of his time, and if he had been given the chance to age naturally you most likely would not be sitting here on this couch with him, but you had never thought less of him because of the fact.

“No, of course not! Honestly sometimes I forget you’re technically 106.”

Bucky lets out a chuckle at that, but there’s still doubt lingering on his features as he self-consciously looks down at his hands in his lap. “I just see you with Peter and Wanda sometimes and wonder if I’m too old for you to be hanging around with.”

You shift closer to Bucky so that you can rest a comforting hand on his bicep, prompting him to lift his head and meet your softhearted gaze. Your entire being emanates warmth and tenderness, and it draws the soldier right in to you. You have no idea the effect you have on him or the way a single brush of your fingertips against his skin can satiate the yearning he feels every time he looks at you. Wanda had been telling you the truth; his thoughts are always loud when you’re around him.

“I guess sometimes it’s easier to connect with them considering we’re closer in age, but I like that you and I are so different because of it. I think there’s more to learn with you and more to appreciate. I genuinely enjoy any minute that’s spent with you,” you confess adamantly, prompting the corner of his lips to quirk up. “Besides, it’s going to take a lot more than a number to scare me away from you.”

Bucky only responds by wrapping his arms around your frame and pulling you into a long awaited hug. You try to stifle your gasp of surprise at suddenly being so close to him, and you hope he doesn’t pick up on the fact that your heart is nearly beating out of your ribcage. You feel his lips press to the top of your head and swear you must be dreaming this because there’s no way the Avenger you’ve pining after for months is now so boldly giving you his affection.

“How about we go away for a weekend?” He finally says after holding you in silence for some time.

“Go away?” You repeat, curiously peeking up at him.

“Leave New York, explore somewhere new,” Bucky reiterates, his features relaxed as he looks down upon you with an adoring gaze. “Be regular people for a few days.”

“I’d like that,” you profess quietly, sighing in contentment when the man pulls you against his chest once more before settling back against the couch. You can feel your eyelids already starting to become heavy, and the soothing circles he rubs into your back doesn’t help. You don’t want this moment with Bucky to end, but you also know that there’s so much to look forward to.

“Bucky?” You hum quietly after allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

“Yes, doll?”

“When we go away for the weekend, can we be regular people in a relationship?”

You feel his body gently shake from the quiet laugh he lets out at your response. You feel his lips press to your forehead as you drift to sleep, missing his answer when he replies, “I’d want nothing more.”

~~~

You slept through the rest of the night without issue; Bucky’s comforting presence was enough to lull you into a peaceful rest, and you entrusted him to chase away the nightmares for you. The two of you remained entangled together on the couch all the way until sunrise, and neither of you had bothered to consider the repercussions of your actions in the morning.

“I feel bad waking them,” Steve sighs, arms crossed over his chest as he and Natasha look down on your sleeping forms. There’s an almost proud smile on his face as he takes in the sight of his best friend holding the woman of his dreams in his arms.

“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let them sleep a little longer,” Natasha notes with a knowing smile before promptly ushering the blond out of the entertainment room. Unbeknownst to either of you, by the time you wake up you’ll be the talk of the tower.

“So how much do you owe Wanda?” Steve asks after quietly shutting the door behind him. Natasha lets out a disappointed sigh.

“I’m out twenty bucks. I bet it would take at least another week before they finally got their heads out of their asses and confessed. But I guess as long as they’re happy…”

“That’s all that matters,” Steve finishes for her with a nod.

The team is happy they’ll no longer have to endure your obvious pining over each other, and they make sure to tell you so when you finally wake up.

It’s an eventful morning to say the least.

#mel writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #avenger!reader #avengers x reader #mcu #marvel #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #request

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enthyrea · 20 days ago

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a small collection of recent sambucky doodles

#enthyrea art #these are a combo of silly ideas and requests and magma doodles too #sambucky #mcu #mcu art #sambucky fanart #bucky x sam #sam wilson #sam wilson x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x sam wilson #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #buckysam #winterfalcon #marvel fanart #marvel art #thunderbolts #yuri sambucky

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marvelstoriesepic · 19 hours ago

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I Would Let the World Burn

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Non-superhero!Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You attend a public Avengers event as Bucky’s girlfriend for the first time, but things spiral from nerves to chaos in a matter of seconds. And when you’re caught in the crossfire, Bucky unleashes.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: violence; injury; PTSD elements; emotional distress; explosions; mass panic; allusions to death; protective!Bucky; nobody hurts his girl; seriously, he’s a little feral here

Author’s Note: I need protective Bucky all day and all night omg. Thank you so much, my love, for this absolutely amazing request!! I hope you'll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

The lights are everywhere.

Glinting off skyscraper windows and camera lenses, bouncing off metallic armor and too-white smiles.

The voices are everywhere. They swarm like bees - the press, the fans, the murmuring of people watching people.

The flash of the cameras is a strobe light stinging the back of your eyes. Reporters shout questions like bullets, flinging them past your ears and into your chest.

You feel your lungs shrinking in your ribcage as if they’ve decided you’ve seen enough. Felt enough. Been too much.

You’re not supposed to be here.

Not in this crowd, not in this dress, not in front of a hundred reporters and their glittering cameras. Not in the spotlight. Not on the arm of the Bucky Barnes.

You tug at the hem of your dress, fingers nervous, breath catching on a sigh you don’t release. Everyone here looks like they belong - as if they were born to walk red carpets and sip sparkling drinks under light that only blinds you. You feel like an ink smudge on a page of golden script.

It’s the first time you’re out in the public with him. The first time the press will capture who’s been speculated to be the former Winter Soldier’s girlfriend.

Bucky spent the night whispering reassurances into your skin, but it seems you should have listened to his words rather than the feeling of his plump lips all over your body.

Your hand is in his, and his thumb traces slow circles against you, metal fingers warm from your skin. His other hand rests lightly on your back. He hasn’t let go of you once.

You look up at him.

And he’s already looking at you.

He looks perfect, tailored, controlled, dangerous in a way that makes people stare too long and then look away even faster.

His hair is swept back tonight, save for one defiant strand that keeps falling across his brow. You keep watching that strand as if it’s a lifeline. Like if you can count how many times it falls, maybe your nerves will shut the hell up.

You know he feels how tense you are.

He frowns, and it’s so soft it nearly breaks your heart. That Bucky Barnes can frown like that. As if you just told him you were fading into dust.

“Hey,” Bucky coos, voice soft, voice low, the world dissolving for a second into nothing but him and you. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You try to nod. But you can’t lie to him. Words jam in your throat, caught somewhere between the beat of your heart and the reality of who he is and who you are not.

“I just-” you manage, but it’s a little shaky, you look around. “I feel out of place.”

Bucky tilts his head, brow still furrowed tightly. “Why?”

You open your mouth, then close it again. Try to explain how it feels to be ordinary in a sea of extraordinary. How it feels to be his, but not one of them. How terrifying it is to not have armor, or training, or anything more than love for a man who could kill with his pinky finger and kindness in his eyes just for you.

Bucky steps in close, crowding the noise out with the breadth of his body, his warmth, the familiarity of his scent - cedar and cold and something quietly him. His nose brushes yours, and it’s stupid how it grounds you.

“I’d rather be anywhere else,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “I’d rather be nowhere. Just me and you. On a rooftop. Under the sheets. In the woods. I don’t care. Just not here. No noise. No cameras. No Stark in a tuxedo with a martini making bad decisions.”

You laugh, and it trembles out of you.

His smile is all softness and secret promises. His eyes are glinting. “But if I have to be here - then I'm glad it’s with you.”

The way he says it - quiet, low, as if it’s something he only ever told the wind - freezes everything inside you and sets it on fire all at once.

You blink, and the fear stutters. Collapses a little. Because it’s not you and the Avengers. It’s you and Bucky.

His lips graze your ear, then your temple, taking his time. He’s not bothered at all by the cameras flashing around you, capturing this moment, capturing the Winter Soldier going soft on his girlfriend.

You want to fall into him. You want to crawl into his chest and live there.

You let out a breath. It’s just beginning to feel okay. The world quiets just for a second.

Then it explodes.

There’s a metallic whine, a rumble like thunder swallowed by stone. The ground jerks beneath your feet as though it’s trying to shake you off. Screams tear through the air. A plume of smoke mushrooms in the sky as fire roars from the far end of the pavilion. People scatter. Glass shatters. Concrete buckles.

You don’t even have time to be shocked when Bucky already reacts.

He pushes you behind him so fast your teeth snap together. He doesn’t look back. His body shields yours, metal arm braced outward, flesh hand pressing you into his back, eyes scanning for threats.

Another explosion cracks through the sky, rips through the atmosphere like an angry god. And right after, the next explosion follows, punched through the sky like a fist made of fire.

You cough, eyes watering. There’s debris. Someone’s car door skitters across the ground like a dead insect. Tony’s suit whirs to life across the square. Natasha’s already sprinting. Sam is in the air.

Bucky is moving, dragging you behind a line of armored cars, his body is coiled with tension, his expression is deadly serious.

“Stay here!” he orders. It’s his soldier voice. Cold steel and no argument. He’s never used this voice on you before.

“Bucky-”

“Y/n, stay down,” he barks sharply, and you nearly flinch. But his tone is not filled with anger. It’s filled with fear. “Do not move until I come back for you.”

Your heart is pounding so hard you think it might break your ribs. Your head is shaking from side to side so fast, you can’t do anything. “No- Bucky-”

He cups your face, his hands stiff, his hold almost rough. He leans in. “Stay. Here,” he growls. “I can’t do this if I’m worried about you.”

His eyes tell you he already is. He will be. But he doesn’t tell you.

He waits for you to nod, although he doesn’t have the time. An almost aggressive kiss is pressed to your mouth, then to your forehead, and he is gone. Thrown into chaos, lost in the smoke and fury and shouts.

You barely register the space he leaves behind. The smoke moves like a creature through the crowd, making people disappear wholly. Somewhere nearby, there’s another explosion. The screams rise again, louder.

You crouch lower, press yourself against the cold steel of the car, try to breathe through the hammer in your chest. You want to do what he said. You try to do what he said.

But the panic moves toward you.

You don’t see where it starts. Just feel it. A shove. A push. Someone collides with your hiding place, someone is behind you and suddenly you’re on the ground. White-hot pain at your side. You fall hard enough to see stars. A sharp ache slices down your shoulder where debris must have caught you. Blood runs hot and slick beneath your dress.

Disoriented, you try to push up on trembling arms but they shake too much, and everything is spinning.

You don’t see the soldier until you turn your head and there’s a flash of metal in his hand. A knife.

“Y/n!”

It’s your name. It’s Bucky’s voice. It’s not a shout. It’s a roar. As if it was ripped out of his chest. As if he’s afraid of what he’ll find when he gets to you.

From fifty yards away, across smoke and bodies and fire, he sees the blood blooming on your sleeve. Sees your fingers twitch as you try to sit up. Sees the man with the knife coming too close.

And he is barreling through the smoke like something unholy, eyes wild, teeth clenched, hands balled to fists. The light behind his eyes just snaps.

He moves as though he’s been set free. No hesitation. No fear. No softness left in him. His face is stone, is fury, is death, is Winter Soldier. His arm gleams under the flames, a ghost of his past resurrected in defense of his present.

Bucky hits the guy with bone-crushing force, enough to send teeth skittering across pavement. A scream echoes once before it’s cut off. Another blow. Another. Fist to face. Elbow to jaw. A crunch that sounds like death and rage all rolled into one. His vibranium hand wraps around the man’s throat, and you swear you see something flash in his eyes - something ancient and broken - before Bucky picks him up and slams him against a crumbling wall. Again. And again.

It’s not strategy. It’s not mercy. It’s pure rage.

Somewhere, Steve yells his name like a warning.

Bucky doesn’t stop.

“Bucky-” you croak, blood warm down your arm. You try to sit up.

In an instant, he turns back to you, easing up on his brutal hold and the soldier crumples to the ground. Bucky’s whole body is tight with adrenaline, his breath sawing in and out as though he ran through a warzone - which he kind of did. For you. His eyes find yours and shatter.

He’s at your side in half a breath.

“Baby,” he whispers, hands on your face, on your shoulder, trembling now. “No, no, no. You weren’t supposed to be- I told you to stay-”

“I tried,” you defend weakly, dizzy. “I didn’t- I’m okay. I think. Just- grazed me, maybe-”

But he’s not hearing you. Not through the panic tearing holes in his composure. His hands flutter, unsure where to land without hurting you more. His voice drops, gravelly and hushed. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. Shit, I should’ve known-”

“Hey.” You grab his wrists. “Bucky.”

He stills, but he won’t meet your eyes. Your thumb brushes the inside of his wrist. “I’m okay.”

But he’s too far in his head.

He wraps you in his arms in seconds, cradles you as if you’re made of moonlight and scripture, as if you’re hallowed and half-broken and held together by threads only he can see.

His metal hand supports your back, curved protectively around your spine. His other hand is pressing your legs into his chest.

The darkening sky is still full of smoke and sirens.

Colors smear across the sky like blood in water. Reds and blues. Shouting and static. Flashing lights and fractured ground. Somewhere nearby, someone is screaming. Somewhere farther, something explodes.

But not for him anymore. He doesn’t seem to hear anything. Doesn’t seem to listen to anything other than your breathing, your pulse.

He walks fast, but carefully. Erratic feet cut through rubble, his jaw is locked so hard, his body so rigid, he surely is in pain from holding all that tension. His eyes are storm-dark and unblinking. No one stops him. Not Steve. Not Tony. Not even the medics who see the look on his face and take a cautious step back as though maybe the devil borrowed his bones tonight.

He never trusted any random medic to look you over. It has to be someone he knows.

You whisper his name.

Soft. Breathless. Almost an apology.

And he almost drops to his knees.

“I’ve got you,” he rasps, hoarse and urgent. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You know you are. But he doesn’t.

Your fingers curl in the collar of his suit jacket. His real name - James - lives on your tongue but never quite makes it out because he’s holding you too close, and perhaps saying his name might crush him completely.

He smells like smoke and ash and steel and blood. Your temple is tucked against the curve of his neck, where his pulse thunders beneath the surface. He’s warm and shaking.

He bursts into the quinjet that brought you here like a man on fire, like a man trying to outpace grief, and he yells something sharp. He lays you down - reluctantly, tenderly, surrendering - onto a stretcher, but his hands don’t stop touching you.

He’s a storm with a purpose, and that purpose is you.

You, safe.

You, whole.

You, alive.

“Bucky,” you try to ease, blinking up at him, face pale under flickering emergency lights. “I told you, baby. It’s not that bad.” Your voice is soft. Slow.

“You were on the ground.” His voice cracks.

“I was on the ground for like two seconds-”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It stopped, baby. Okay? There’s no fresh blood.” You are close to whispering.

Bucky doesn’t seem eased, though. He sits beside you. Big body bent in half, elbows on knees, one trembling hand reaching to gently - so, so gently - brush your hair from your forehead.

And then he says it.

“I would’ve burned the whole goddamn city to get to you.” Quiet. Like a vow. Like a confession. Like faith. Like a truth, he doesn’t know how to carry anymore. “I would’ve torn down buildings with my bare hands if I didn’t see your breathing. I don’t care who saw. I don’t care what they think-” his voice breaks, his breaths spill all over his words. “I can’t be okay without you.”

You stare up at him. Your throat is tight, eyes are stinging. Because he doesn’t say things like that. Not often. Not out loud. You see it in his eyes every day, in the way he looks at you, in the way he treats you. But it’s something else entirely to hear him form those words and let his tongue roll them out.

He presses his forehead to yours. His breath ghosts over your lips. His eyes are closed. His hand cups the back of your head.

He’s holding you so close to him, as if he’s never intending to let go ever again.

#2k drabble challenge request #2k drabble challenge #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #avengers bucky #bucky x reader angst #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky imagine #mcu bucky barnes #bucky x reader fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine

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d-z20 · 3 months ago

Text

More Than You Will Ever Know (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: For most of your time at college, you've been in a relationship with your sugar mommy, Agatha Harkness. Everything is going great except for the fact you are about to graduate and with that comes change

- OR -

What happens when you turn up at her door months later. It's sex, sex happens.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, alcohol, sugar mommy Agatha with a few grey hairs 😍, sugar baby Reader, established dynamic, Mommy kink, strap riding (R recv), squirting, angst, a little hurt/comfort, both Agatha and Reader are switches, fingering (R recv), oral (both recv), multiple orgasms, soft aftercare

Words: 5.9k

A/N: This probably isn't the fic y'all were expecting when I said I was doing a sugar mommy Agatha post... but I hope you enjoy it anyway my lovelies ;) requested fic

AO3 | Masterlist

The restaurant you were at was one of those exclusive places with no menu—just a personal chef curating a bespoke experience, each dish a masterpiece plated with precision. You weren’t sure what half the things on your plate were, but Agatha, ever composed, swirled a glass of deep red wine and explained each one with a knowing smirk.

She sat across from you, effortlessly elegant in a dark silk blouse, her silver streaks catching in the dim candlelight. You’d barely sat down before she leaned forward, her fingers brushing over yours, and said, “You look stunning tonight, darling.”

You did, of course, because she’d made sure of it. The dress you wore—a sleek, custom-made piece in a colour that suited your skin perfectly—was her gift. She had it delivered earlier that day, instructing you to wear it to your graduation as well. “Something beautiful for someone extraordinary,” she had hummed as she held it up against your body, assessing the fit before insisting on getting it tailored just a little more.

Throughout dinner, she was her usual indulgent self, ordering the best of everything and ensuring you never had to lift a finger. When the waiter poured more champagne into your flute, she merely tilted her head with amusement and said, “We’re celebrating, aren’t we?”

And celebrate she did—showering you with praise between bites of delicacies, her voice rich with something dangerously close to pride.

“I always knew you could do it,” she said, her thumb lazily tracing the stem of her wine glass. “You’re brilliant, and I’ve seen it from the very beginning. Your mind—fuck, it’s a wonder and a privilege to witness. I hope you know that.”

Warmth spread through you, not just from the alcohol but from the way she looked at you—as if you were the only thing worth admiring in this whole damn place. You ducked your head, feeling the heat creep up your neck, but Agatha wasn’t having any of that. She reached across the table, tilting your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet her gaze.

"None of that, baby," she chastised softly. "You’ve worked so hard, and now you're finally here. I am so proud of you."

Your heart squeezed, and before you could even form a response, she was placing a small velvet box in your hand. "Not yet," she hummed when you made to open it, her lips curling in amusement. "Save it for later."

You didn’t press, instead slipping the small box into your bag—another thing Agatha had insisted on buying for you.

And, in this moment, life was perfect.

—

Heat. Skin against skin. The soft rustle of silk sheets as your body moved against hers, your fingers digging into toned muscle. Agatha beneath you, her hands firm on your hips, guiding you, encouraging you, worshipping you in the way only she knew how. The air was thick with the smell of perfume and sex.

"You take me so well, baby," she rasped, her voice hoarse with want, nails dragging down your spine, leaving trails of pleasure in their wake.

Your head was spinning, pleasure pooling in your stomach, tightening unbearably. She always did this to you—reduced you to nothing but need, left you craving her touch even when she was already giving you everything. And right now, you could feel her inside you, the stretch of silicone filling you so perfectly it had you trembling, your body fluttering around the unyielding length with every slow, deliberate roll of your hips.

"Mommy," you mewled, your voice high and breathless, and Agatha groaned in response, her grip on you tightening.

"That’s right, baby," she purred, voice molten. "Come on, let me hear you. Let me feel you."

A desperate moan left your lips, your thighs shaking as she bucked up into you, her hands guiding your movements in a way that made you dizzy with need. Every stroke had you gasping, the friction deep and deliberate, hitting your g-spot over and over again. But it wasn’t just that—Agatha’s mouth was on you too, hot and wet, her lips closing around your nipple as she sucked, her tongue flicking over the sensitive bud, sending another sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"So fucking perfect," she praised, letting her fingers slide up to cup your jaw, tilting your head down until your lips were only a breath away. "You’ve been so good for me, haven’t you?"

"Y-Yes, Mommy," you gasped, barely coherent, but she swallowed your sounds with a kiss, deep and possessive.

The pressure coiled tighter, impossibly so, your body alight with sensation, every nerve ending sparking under her touch. You could feel another orgasm building, stealing the breath from your lungs, your nails sinking into her shoulders as you chased that final, devastating peak.

"That's it, my love," she groaned, her voice thick with satisfaction. "Cum for me, baby."

And you did. A shattered moan, body arching, the pleasure tearing through you like fire. The intensity was blinding, overwhelming; your entire body tensed, then gave way to the sheer force of your climax. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as the pleasure burst free, your thighs trembling violently as you soaked the strap buried deep inside you.

Agatha groaned low, feeling the warmth spread between her legs, the slick mess you had made drenching the harness, the sheets, and her own skin. “Fuck, baby,” she husked, her voice thick with satisfaction, her hands gripping your hips as if to steady you. “Look at you... so perfect.”

Your breath came in rapid pants, your limbs weak, your body still wracked with aftershocks. The evidence of your pleasure was undeniable—your arousal staining the sheets beneath you, glistening against Agatha’s stomach just above where the strap had pressed flush against her. She let out a pleased hum, her fingers tracing soothing circles on your back as you collapsed against her, utterly spent.

“There you go, baby,” she whispered, her voice softer now, almost reverent. “You did so well for Mommy.”

Her hands ran slowly, worshipfully, over your spine, grounding you as you shivered against her. She pressed lazy, lingering kisses to your temple, your cheek, your shoulder, anywhere she could reach, while both of you struggled to catch your breath. The world beyond these walls didn’t exist; there was only the warmth of her embrace, the way she murmured your name like a prayer, the soft hum of contentment vibrating against your skin.

You belonged here. With her. Always.

And yet, you didn’t notice the way her expression shifted, the way her hold tightened just a fraction, as if she were memorising the feel of you, as if she were already preparing to let you go.

—

The sun dipped below the skyline as you sat on the edge of Agatha’s expansive marble countertop, feeling a familiar weight in the air. Less than twenty-four hours ago, you had been wrapped in her arms, your body trembling with pleasure, her voice thick with praise as she called you perfect. She had spoilt you rotten—an extravagant dinner, a new dress, a reminder that she was proud of you, that she always knew you’d make it. Things had felt so whole, so right.

But tonight? Tonight felt like the cruellest contrast.

Agatha’s penthouse, usually brimming with her presence, warm and commanding, felt cold and distant. She was pacing the living room, arms crossed, her sharp blue eyes avoiding yours. There was no teasing smirk, no playful remark about how well you took her the night before. The tension in the air was suffocating, pressing against your chest like a vice.

Finally, she broke the silence with a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You’re about to graduate, Y/N,” she began, her voice smooth yet clipped. "I think it's time we stop pretending that this... arrangement... still serves either of us."

You blinked, your stomach plummeting. Just last night, she had held you so tightly, whispering sweet nothings against your skin. And now she was speaking as if the last three and a half years were nothing more than a fleeting indulgence.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, but the words came out too sharp, too raw.

Her eyes flickered toward you, her lips twisting into a teasing smirk, but it didn’t carry the same warmth it usually did. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, darling. You have a great job lined up and a whole life ahead of you. You don’t need me to be your sugar mommy anymore."

The words stung. You swallowed against the lump rising in your throat, masking it with a hollow laugh. "I don’t need you? Is that what you think?"

"You don’t need a sugar mommy," she corrected, her voice carrying that sharp edge that cut deeper than you wanted to admit. “I’m saying it’s time for you to grow up. To live your life without being bound to anything—or anyone.”

The finality in her words left you breathless. This wasn’t a joke. There was no hint of her usual playful cruelty.

She really meant it.

“I don’t want that, Agatha,” you said softly, your voice cracking just a little, but your pride wouldn’t let you break. “I’m not ready for it.”

“Oh, I know you’re not,” she replied smoothly, turning away to pour herself a drink. The sound of liquid hitting glass was deafening in the quiet room. “But you’ll be fine. You’ll forget about me and find someone more your speed. Someone young and eager to be your equal, not just someone who's... well, who’s old enough to be your mother.”

A sharp sting bloomed in your chest, a dull, aching wound. Three and a half years down had come down to this. It started as just a simple arrangement—she took care of you financially, and you gave her company and affection in return. But somewhere along the way, something deeper had blossomed between you two, something neither of you had been brave enough to admit. And now she was discarding it like it had never meant anything at all.

She turned back to face you then, and for a brief moment, there was something else in her eyes—something softer, maybe even hesitant. But then it was gone, masked by that familiar smirk, the one she always used when she wanted to hide her vulnerability.

“Look, sweetheart, I’m doing this for you. You don’t need me holding you back. Go out there. Find yourself. It’ll be better for the both of us.”

Your chest was tight, the weight of her words suffocating. “I don’t want anyone else,” you whispered, voice barely above a breath. “I only want you.”

She scoffed, but there was no real bite to it. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but like I’ve said, you'll get over it.”

You let out a hollow, defeated scoff of your own, staring down at your feet as you willed yourself not to cry. When you finally spoke, your voice was eerily indifferent. “Okay.”

You grabbed your bag, turned on your heel, and stormed out, slamming the door behind you with a force that rattled the walls.

The moment you stepped onto the busy street, the cold air hit you like a slap in the face, but it wasn’t enough to stop the sting behind your eyes. You blinked rapidly, forcing back the tears, refusing to let the world see you like this.

But when you finally made it back to your apartment, the second the door clicked shut behind you, everything crumbled.

Your bag slipped from your shoulder, hitting the floor with a dull thud, but you barely noticed as your knees gave out beneath you. You collapsed onto the hardwood, your entire body shaking, the weight of it all crashing down on you at once. The tears burnt as they spilt over, hot and unstoppable, rolling down your cheeks in thick, messy trails.

It wasn’t just crying—it was full-body, gut-wrenching, ugly sobbing. The kind that left your chest aching, your throat raw, and your limbs trembling. It felt like your heart had been shattered, and now it was cutting your hands to shreds as you desperately tried to gather the pieces.

You gasped for breath, curling in on yourself, hands clutching at your arms as if you could physically hold yourself together. But nothing could stop the pain or the gaping void that Agatha had left behind.

Your fingers reached for the armrest of your couch and found the hoodie she had bought for you last month, and you clung to it like a lifeline, burying your face into the fabric that still smelt like her. Just a few weeks ago, you would have never imagined this—never imagined she’d leave you, that she’d end things so cruelly.

You thought it would never end.

But it had.

And as you lay there, curled up on the floor, crying yourself to sleep in a hoodie that smelt like the woman who just broke your heart, you failed to notice how the small velvet box she had given you had slipped from your bag and slid under the couch, out of sight.

—

The days following Agatha’s decision felt like a blur. You tried to move on, to focus on your future. The job offer you’d received was a great opportunity, and Agatha had made a valid point about your independence. You told yourself this was for the best, that you could do this, that you could build a life outside of her.

But no matter how much you tried, every minute without her felt like a slow death.

Your apartment, once a sanctuary, now felt hollow. The bed was too big and too cold without her beside you. Mornings were the worst—waking up alone, reaching instinctively for her only to be met with empty sheets. You used to wake to the scent of her perfume lingering in the air, the warmth of her body pressed against yours, her voice teasing as she coaxed you into wakefulness with slow kisses and whispered praises. Now, silence stretched endlessly, suffocating in its vastness.

You kept yourself busy, throwing yourself into the final few weeks of college life as graduation loomed closer. You accepted invitations to go out with friends and tried to lose yourself in the crowds, in the laughter, in the distractions, but it never worked. Conversations blurred together, nights out felt dull, and no matter how much you smiled or how much you laughed at someone’s joke, you felt empty. It wasn’t just loneliness. It was Agatha.

You missed her. Desperately.

You missed the sound of her laughter when she was genuinely amused—not the polite, calculated chuckle she gave in social settings, but the real one, the one that made her eyes crinkle and her entire body shake, a soft snort escaping her. You missed the way she would kiss your forehead absentmindedly, as if it were second nature, the way she’d roll her eyes at you but always, always indulge you. You missed the way she touched you, not just in the heat of passion but in the quiet moments—her hand on your lower back as she guided you through a door, her fingers tracing soothing patterns against your thigh as she read, the way she’d brush your hair back just to get a better look at you.

But most of all, you missed the way she saw you.

Because no matter how much success came your way, no matter how proud your professors were, no matter how many congratulatory messages you received, it all felt muted. Distant. Like something was missing, like a shadow had been cast over every achievement. And you knew exactly what it was.

It was Agatha.

She was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

You reckoned she had completely moved on, that she was thriving in your absence. You convinced yourself of it because what other choice did you have? The world wouldn’t let you forget her. She was too deeply woven into it.

Her name popped up in conversations—friends of friends mentioning her in passing, mutual connections keeping her name alive. And then there was social fucking media.

You didn’t follow her, of course. That would’ve been masochistic. But that didn’t stop her from appearing on all of your feeds, no matter the platform—through tagged photos, through shared articles, through snippets of interviews that made their way into your timeline.

She was back in full force, attending galas, closing deals, and commanding every room she stepped into. She was radiant, powerful, and untouchable. The world saw her as she always had been: composed. And it made you sick.

Because if she could move on so effortlessly, why couldn’t you?

—

It only got worse after graduation.

You should have been happy. You had finally done it—achieved everything you had worked so hard for. Your professors beamed with pride, and your family sent messages filled with love and admiration. Your friends celebrated you, taking you out, making toasts in your name.

And yet, through it all, the joy never felt whole.

Your graduation gown felt wrong without Agatha there to see it. The dress she had bought you clung to your body like a second skin, but instead of making you feel unstoppable, it felt wrong. Hollow. As if the fabric itself had been stripped of its magic, leaving behind nothing but an empty, uncomfortable reminder of what you had lost. What once made you feel desired now only makes you feel abandoned.

As you stood on that stage, accepting your degree, you couldn’t help but scan the crowd, your heart foolishly hoping, just for a second, that you’d see her there. That she would be watching, pride shining in her eyes, just as she had promised.

But she wasn’t there and that should have been your final sign, the last nail in the coffin.

And yet it wasn’t.

Because you still needed her.

Not for her money, not for the extravagant gifts or the lavish lifestyle. You needed her. Her wit, her sharp tongue, the way she challenged you, pushed you, believed in you even when you didn’t believe in yourself. You needed the way she made you feel—cherished, adored, hers.

But she was gone and the world just kept on turning.

—

It took a few months, but eventually, the truth hit you like a freight train.

You couldn’t move on. You couldn’t picture a future without her. Your job was exciting, sure, but it was nothing compared to what you had with Agatha. The thought of another person touching you, holding you, even kissing you—it felt wrong. You only wanted her.

You had only ever wanted her.

You were cleaning your apartment when you dropped a pen and it had rolled beneath the couch, disappearing into the shadows. With a huff, you crouched down, reaching blindly, fingers brushing against something soft. Velvet.

Your breath caught in your throat.

The box.

You pulled it out slowly, heart hammering in your chest. The moment you saw it, the memories rushed back; the dinner, the way Agatha had smiled at you with something unreadable in her eyes when she handed it over, the way she told you not to open it yet.

You swallowed hard and flipped the lid open.

Inside sat the most breathtaking ring. It was perfect. A piece so intricate and unmistakably you that it stole the air from your lungs.

Agatha had listened. She had remembered.

You had mentioned it once, maybe twice, in passing. About how you could never find anything quite right, how everything in stores always felt too impersonal, too generic. And yet, here it was. Commissioned. Designed just for you.

Your fingers trembled as you lifted it from the box, your eyes catching on the engraving along the inside.

"More than you will ever know."

Your breath hitched.

What did it mean? More than you would ever know… what? That she cared for you more than you realised? That she—

Your heart surged and shattered all over again.

How could she give you this and then break things off a day later?

It didn’t make sense.

And suddenly, you had to see her.

You barely remembered throwing on a coat, stuffing the box into your pocket, and hailing a cab. The moment you arrived at her building, you asked the concierge not to alert her. The doorman, who knew you after the countless times you came here for Agatha, hesitated before nodding, letting you up without question.

Your pulse was deafening as you knocked loudly on her door.

The seconds stretched unbearably.

And then—

The door swung open, revealing Agatha in silk loungewear, her hair in soft waves, her expression unreadable.

She was poised as always, but something was different.

Her eyes were tired. The dark circles beneath them barely concealed, her sharp features softer than you remembered. And suddenly, you wondered, had she actually moved on? Or was she just keeping up appearances?

Her lips curled into a familiar smirk, but there was no bite to it this time. No amusement.

"You look like hell, Y/N," she noted, voice unexpectedly soft.

You blinked, realising only now that fresh tears had fallen from your eyes on the way up to her apartment.

"Thanks," you replied, forcing a humourless smile. Your throat tightened. "I’ve missed you."

Agatha hesitated. Her gaze flickered over your face, searching, but for what, you weren’t sure.

"I thought I told you to move on," she said, voice quieter this time.

"I can’t," you confessed, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

She didn’t stop you.

"I’ve tried. You’re all I want, Agatha. I don’t need anyone else, and I don’t want to."

She sighed, crossing her arms, tapping her fingers against her sleeve in that way she always did when she was thinking too much. "This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be, you know."

Her voice was weary, laced with something close to regret.

"You’re supposed to live your life. You deserve someone who can give you what I can’t–"

"You give me everything," you butt in.

The words left you without hesitation, your feet carrying you closer, your heart pounding as your fingers brushed against the silk of her robe. "I don’t need anything else. I never did."

Her eyes darkened.

The breath between you was charged, heavy, thick with something you both had been suppressing for far too long.

"Y/N, don’t say things you don’t mean," she whispered, but her voice wavered. "I’m not going to–"

But she didn’t get a chance to finish. You leaned in, and the moment your lips met, the world shattered.

She gasped softly, just before her hands found your waist, pulling you flush against her. The kiss was desperate, urgent, and needy. A collision of everything unspoken between you.

Agatha responded immediately, claiming your mouth with a hunger that sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

"Fuck," she breathed against your lips before kissing you deeper, her grip tightening, pulling you impossibly close. "You’re going to be the death of me."

Your only response was a soft whimper, fingers tangling in her hair as you pressed yourself against her, already drunk on the feeling of her after so long apart.

"I missed you," you murmured between kisses, hands slipping under the robe, palms pressing against her warm, bare skin. "I missed you so much."

Agatha groaned, walking you back toward the bedroom.

"Show me how much."

The second your back hit the bed, Agatha was on top of you, mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck, and your collarbone. She tugged impatiently at your shirt, and you helped her strip it away before her hands slid down, claiming you as if she never wanted to let go again.

Your legs wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as she kissed down your body, teasing, tasting, until all you could do was whimper and beg.

"Mommy," you moaned, arching beneath her as her mouth found your chest, teeth grazing over sensitive skin before her tongue soothed the sting.

She groaned at the sound of the title slipping from your lips, her fingers gripping your hips, keeping you exactly where she wanted you.

"That’s right, baby," she murmured, voice dripping with want. "Let me take care of you. Let me remind you exactly who you belong to."

You gasped as her hands roamed lower, her touch setting every nerve in your body alight.

But before she could go further, your fingers curled around her wrist, stopping her.

Agatha’s brow furrowed slightly as she looked up at you, lips parted, eyes burning with desire but shadowed with something else.

"Why did you give me the ring?" You asked, your voice a whisper, fragile but demanding.

She stilled.

Her breath slowed.

For a long moment, she didn’t speak, her gaze searching yours as if trying to decide whether to run or to finally give in.

You swallowed hard and continued.

"You had it made just for me. You knew exactly what I wanted before I even knew myself. And then you gave it to me, only to leave the next day."

A crack formed in her carefully constructed mask.

"It wasn’t supposed to be like this," Agatha admitted finally, voice raw. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

"By breaking my heart?"

Her jaw tensed. "By letting you go before I ruined you. Before I kept you."

Your fingers tightened around her wrist. "I wanted to be kept."

Her eyes flickered with pain, but before she could protest, you reached into the pocket of your discarded coat and pulled out the small velvet box.

You flipped it open between you, revealing the ring—the proof that she had always known you, had always loved you, even if she had never said the words.

"Then tell me what it means," you whispered.

Her throat bobbed as she looked at the engraving.

"More than you will ever know."

Agatha exhaled sharply and sat up, running a hand through her tousled hair.

"It means..." she hesitated, then shook her head with a self-deprecating chuckle. "It means I’m a coward."

You frowned, shifting onto your side to face her fully. "Agatha–"

She cut you off with a sigh, her fingers ghosting over your wrist, like she needed to touch you to ground herself. "I was going to explain it all that night. Before I—before I convinced myself you were better off without me." She scoffed lightly, as if irritated at her own foolishness. "I thought pushing you away would make it easier for you to move on. That it would be easier for me."

Your breath caught. "And was it?"

Her gaze softened, and she gave you a small, sad smile. "No. It was hell."

Something in your chest cracked wide open. You reached for her hand, lacing your fingers together, grounding yourself in her warmth. "What does the engraving mean?" You ask again.

She let out a breath like she had been holding it for months. And then, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it, she said the words you had been waiting for all along.

"It meant... it means I love you, Y/N." She shook her head, laughing bitterly. "I love you more than you will ever know. I should have said it a long time ago, but I didn’t know how. So I put it in a gift instead, hoping you’d understand without me having to say it."

Your chest ached, but this time, it wasn’t just pain. It was overwhelming, all-consuming relief.

"I love you too."

Agatha’s breath caught.

"Say it again," she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You sat up, reaching for her, cupping her face between your hands.

"I love you, Agatha. I never stopped. I never could."

The tension in her body melted as she exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch.

Then she kissed you again.

This time, it wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t rushed or frantic.

It was slow. Intentional. Reverent.

Agatha laid you back down with deliberate care, her hands trailing over your body like she was memorising you all over again. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered "mine" against your skin was a promise.

The rest of your clothes were shed in a haze of need, the soft rustle of fabric hitting the floor drowned out by breathless moans and desperate hands mapping out familiar territory. Agatha took her time with you first, pinning you beneath her as she trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down your body, her tongue flicking over sensitive skin, her fingers following in its wake. When she finally dipped lower, parting your thighs with a knowing smirk. She took you apart with practiced ease—driving you to the brink again and again until you were a trembling, pleading mess beneath her.

But you wouldn’t let her have all the control tonight. With a sudden shift, you flipped her onto her back, straddling her hips, drinking in the sight of her flushed and breathless. You kissed like you wanted to drown in her, dragging your tongue down the column of her throat, over the swell of her breasts, sucking marks into her skin, and staking your claim the way she always had with you.

And when you finally settled between her legs, when you pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh and felt her shudder beneath you, you didn’t tease; you devoured. The taste of her, the sound of her moans, the way her fingers twisted into your hair as she cried out your name—it was everything, and you never wanted to stop.

Agatha’s hands tightened in your hair, holding you in place as she rolled her hips, grinding up against your mouth, chasing her release with unrestrained need. She was completely lost in the sensation, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps, her thighs trembling around your head.

"Just like that—fuck—don’t stop, baby," she groaned, throwing her head back as her body tensed. And then she shattered, her orgasm hitting her in waves, her grip tightening as she rode it out against your tongue, moaning your name like a prayer.

Agatha was wrecked by the time you pulled away, her chest heaving, her lips parted as she reached for you, pulling you back into a bruising kiss. "You’re insatiable," she panted, her nails raking down your back.

"And you love it," you teased, grinning against her lips.

She flipped you once more, settling herself over you with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "I do. But now it’s my turn again.” She trailed her lips down your neck, across your collarbone, then lower, nipping and sucking at your chest, your stomach, your thighs—leaving her marks all over you.

Agatha hovered over your dripping cunt, her hands trailing possessively over your thighs, making you tremble, your body taut with anticipation. She took her time, lips and tongue teasing along the sensitive skin, her breath warm as she moaned something low and indulgent against you. The first slow drag of her tongue had you gasping, fingers fisting in her hair, and she hummed in approval, pressing deeper, savouring every reaction.

Her tongue worked you over with aching precision, lapping and circling before closing around your sensitive clit, sucking with just the right amount of pressure. The pleasure was almost too much, the heat pooling in your stomach threatening to spill over as she pressed her fingers inside, curling them perfectly to have you crying out. Every movement was deliberate—slow and deep, then quick and teasing, keeping you on the edge but never quite letting you fall.

Meanwhile, you could hear the subtle, desperate rhythm of her own hips grinding down against the mattress, a quiet moan slipping from her lips as she lost herself in you, the friction bringing her closer and closer.

"You're shaking, baby," she murmured, voice thick with satisfaction as she glanced up, her chin glistening, her expression utterly wrecked. "You gonna fall apart for me?"

She didn’t wait for an answer, just sealed her mouth around you again, her fingers pressing deeper, relentlessly coaxing you toward that inevitable bliss. And then she gasped against you, her body tensing as she shuddered, her own release crashing over her from the way she had been grinding down against the bed.

The realisation that Agatha was cumming while fucking you sent you spiralling, your orgasm ripping through you with an intensity that left you gasping, back arching as a broken moan spilt from your lips. She groaned at the feeling of you coming undone, drinking in every last wave of pleasure before finally pulling away, her hands smoothing over your shaking thighs, her own body still trembling as she pressed one last lingering kiss against your oversensitive core, a satisfied smirk curving her lips.

Agatha collapsed against you, her breath warm against your skin as she buried her face in the crook of your neck. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, both too lost in the haze of pleasure and the weight of everything that had led to this—every moment spent apart, every unspoken feeling, every stubborn refusal to admit what had always been so painfully obvious.

You carded your fingers through her damp hair, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, letting the steady rhythm of your heartbeats fill the silence. Agatha exhaled slowly, her hands smoothing over your sides, grounding herself in the feel of you, as if she still wasn’t convinced this was real.

Without a word, Agatha stood, her movements graceful and purposeful as she left the room for a brief moment. You could hear the sound of water running in the distance, the soft splash of it filling the silence before she returned. She didn’t need to say anything; the warmth in her eyes, the gentle press of her lips against your temple, told you everything.

She guided you to the enormous, luxurious bath—spanning the width of the penthouse’s bathroom—an almost surreal oasis of warmth and comfort. The water was a perfect temperature, fragrant with oils and salts, designed to soothe the soul. She lowered herself into the tub first, pulling you into her arms as if you were weightless, holding you close.

The space around you was immense, but it felt like it was just the two of you in this intimate world. Her fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, soothing the tension in your muscles as she softly kissed your shoulder, your neck—anywhere her lips could find. Each tender touch seemed to speak of something deeper, an unspoken vow of care that settled around you like the warm water.

You let out a contented sigh, resting your head against her chest as she kept you in her embrace, the steady rhythm of her breathing grounding you. Your hand lazily traced over her skin, lost in the softness of her touch, the comfort of her presence.

“You’re not leaving this time,” you murmured, the words more of a gentle plea than a statement. Agatha’s voice was soft but unwavering as she kissed your forehead, her arms tightening around you, pulling you even closer.

“Never again,” she whispered back, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m exactly where I belong.”

And in that moment, with the water lapping gently against the sides of the tub and the soft warmth of her embrace surrounding you, you knew—this time, she meant it.

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this fic had been teetering on the edge of my imagination for a while but I got a sudden burst of inspiration after daydreaming about it all day—lemme know what y'all thought :D

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taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @jujuu23 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6ange19

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backtothefanfiction · 2 months ago

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Hiii!!! Absolutely love your Joaquin fics rn!! Could you write a Joaquin x fem!reader, who has captain marvels powers? Or atleast very similar. Maybe it takes places during the celestial fight during new world order, and maybe also the aftermath?

No Strings Attached | Joaquin Torres x Avenger!reader

Summary; you had an agreement, a simple arrangement, but feelings are always inevitable in these things

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warning: Smut! 18+ Only! PinV, oral (female receiving), a little dirty talk

A/N: So I’m doing the double today. How very efficient of me. Also I recall a wish for the shower scene I wrote the other day to have turned into something spicy so I figured I’d deliver under this ask. Enjoy.

You didn’t have the time or focus for a relationship and neither did Joaquin. You didn’t even live in the same state. But both working with Avengers on Avengers level missions, you often ran into each other and ended up working with one another every few months or so. And on the occasions when that did happen, you both had found a great way to let off a little bit of steam post mission.

The second he found out his latest mission was going to be in your neck of the woods he couldn’t wait. It took all of his concentration to stay focused on the mission at hand and not on finally getting his dick wet later.

He was chasing down the bogey when your voice came through his comms. “Yo Torres, want an assist?”

He shook his head as he smiled to himself. Although it had been his mission, being in your city meant it was only a matter of time before you got involved. “I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna show.” he said as he looked to his right and you pulled alongside him. Where he needed a whole suit and fancy gear to fly, you had cosmic powers that literally blasted you through the air like a rocket.

“What can I say? I was busy,” you threw back.

“Doing what?” he asked.

“Cancelling my plans for the evening,” you smiled at him with a knowing wink.

“Falcon, we’ve got two more missiles incoming,” a controlled male voice cut through the comm link to you both.

“I’ll get these two,” you said, indicating to the ones you were both currently chasing, “you get the other two.”

“Alright.” he agreed before he began to bank left and turn back toward the direction of the other two missiles.

Chasing down missiles was routine for you at this point. You angled your head forward, your arms pushing back to your sides as you put on another burst of speed to catch up to the missile on the right, coming up beneath it. You quickly began to guide it towards the direction of its companion and the two collided in mid air in a firey blast.

“How you doing back there feathers?” You asked through the comms, coming to a stop and hovering mid air as you sought out the flash of green against the blue sky that would indicate where he was.

“They’re splitting off.” he grunted down the comms as he tried to fight with one of the missiles, willing it to change course and drop down into the sea.

“I’m on it.” you said, spotting the stray missile in the distance. You raced for it but realised you weren’t going to make it in time. Instead you stopped and put all your effort into pushing a photon blast towards it, hoping to detonate it before it got too close to the ground. Your body jerked backwards with the force and you waited with baited breath for it to make contact.

3…2…1! Your arm came up to shield your face as you were knocked backwards by the blast but you quickly caught yourself again.

“Is that all of them?” you asked?

There was a pause before the other male voice from before came through the comms to tell you both that Cap had got things back under control on the ground and you could both stand down.

“Just another day at the office, huh?” you said to Joaquin as he came up alongside you again.

“Yeah, just another day at the office.” he agreed.

“At least I don’t have to do the paperwork on this one.” you taunted before you shot him a small salute and began to divert your course and head back home.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It was nearly 9pm by the time he arrived. You’d been able to eat, tidy up, shower and even catch a couple episodes of the latest tv show you were binging. The second you opened the door to your appartment and let him in, he was on you.

“Is it weird if I say I missed you,” he panted between kisses and you pulled him inside and he kicked the door closed behind him.

“You mean your dick missed me,” you joked as you ripped the open checked button down off of his shoulders and he quickly slipped his arms out of it, not wanting to waste any time.

“Yeah, that too,” he said as his mouth tried to keep up with you as you guided him down the hallway to the open kitchen living room. “Dios mio eres hemosa,” he muttered to himself as you reached to pull your T-shirt up over your head and threw it across the room.

“Look you want to keep talking or do you want to fuck me? Your call Torres.” you panted as you tried to keep things moving along.

He quickly lifted his white T-shirt off over his head and exposed his golden skin to you.

“Someone’s been working out,” you commented as you took in his abs.

“Now who’s talking,” he grinned as he quickly closed the gap between you again, his hands threading into the hair behind your heads as he smashed his lips back into yours.

You couldn't help but moan against his lips as you felt him push his body up against you, his dick already growing hard and pushing against the zipper of his jeans. You both almost tripped over the arm of the sofa as you blindly tried to move back towards your bedroom, your hands completely lost as they frantically moved across one another’s skin.

“Uhg, fuck this,” he groaned, lifting you by the back of your thighs and slamming your back down into the couch cushions, his fingers scrambling to pull down your sweats and underwear before he dived headfirst between your legs.

You immediately began to whimper as his tongue carded through your folds, flicking hungrily at your sensitive clit. Your fingers tangled into his hair encouragingly as you tipped your head back, your eyes closing as you focused only on the feeling of his tongue against your cunt.

“Oh Joaquin, fuck,” you panted as you felt your muscles already beginning to tingle and grow tight.

He hummed happily into your pussy as he ate you out, your praise and whimpers like music to his ears as you squirmed beneath him. He was leaning over the arm of the chair to be at the right angle and he reached to undo the button and zipper on his jeans to alleviate some of the pressure from his erection, shifting his junk in his pants before he moved that hand back up towards your entrance. His slid two fingers inside you with ease, the tips of them curling in a come hither motion that had you practically writhing beneath him, desperate for release.

“Come on baby, just let go. Vamos bebe, dámelo.” he said huskily and you practically screamed as your climax took over you, soaking his fingers and tongue.

“Ahí está. Esa es mi chica.” His words always made you delirious. Always left you in a haze. And for just a little time you could imagine and play pretend. For those couple hours you were with him, you were his girl. And he was yours.

You quickly pushed him back off you so you could slam your mouth against his again, your tongue lapping your juices from his lips.

“God, you’re a fucking dream,” he praised and once again his words went straight to your head.

“Where do you want to do it? Here, or in the bedroom?” you asked him.

“How about here, then in the bedroom. Then in the shower, on the kitchen counter,” he listed off as your lips began to mark a hungry trail down the side of his neck, your hand moving to palm at his length as he fought to rid himself of his jeans.

“Sounds like a plan,” you panted, wanting to make the most of the limited time you had together, “How long do we have?”

“My flight leaves at 8am.” he said.

“Then, I guess we best get moving then,” you encouraged him.

“You still on the-“

“Yep,” you quickly responded, desperate to finally feel him inside you again after months of just playing with yourself and your magic wand.

“And you haven’t?”

“Nope.” You replied just as quickly. He always asked the same questions just to check in on the off chance anything had changed, but there was no one else other than Joaquin. That’s why you had started sleeping with him in the first place. No strings. No complications. Just really good sex. “What about you? Have you?”

“No.” he quickly said, but there was a flash of something in his eyes that said there was more to that answer than he really wanted you to know. “Okay, enough talking,” he panted as he grabbed your legs and pulled you closer to the end of the sofa, tilting you up at just the right angle and lining himself up, before teasing his way inside. You both let out a deep moan as he began to fill you up, your mouth hanging open as his brow furrowed in concentration, not wanting to blow his load before he had even begun.

You were always so wet for him. So warm and welcoming. Fucking you felt like coming home and that scared Joaquin. No strings, that was what you both agreed, but he knew he was failing. Knew every time he saw you, every time you hooked up, he grew a little more attached to you. He’d wake the next morning and struggle to leave. He’d lay awake after a long day back home, just wondering what you were doing. If you thought of him in the same way. Sometimes he even thought about just buying a plane ticket and showing up on your door. Not even to have sex, but just watch tv and cuddle up on your sofa. To hear you laugh. To be with you when you wanted to cry.

“Oh shit,” he grunted as he continued to thrust into you, the realisation hitting him as his eyes locked onto yours, He was completely and utterly in love with you and he knew all it would take would be one more orgasm together and he would be completely and utterly yours.

You saw how the look on his face changed. You knew exactly what it meant too. “Say it,” you said to him as his eyes moved from your face to where your two bodies met, willing himself to make it less personal again. If he just focussed on that angle he could pretend he was watching porn. Detach himself from the act just long enough to get through this.

“Say it,” you demanded, but he shook his head. “Joaquin!” you said firmly, forcing him to look into your eyes again. “Say it,” you said again more softly and that’s when he saw it. The same feeling reflected in your eyes.

“I love you,” he said.

“Fuck,” you squeaked as he hit that sensitive spot inside you just right, “I love you too,” you panted, finally allowing yourself to admit to yourself and him what you’d known for a while now. “I love you too.” You breathed.

He practically growled in hunger at your words, his hips picking up pace as he became desperate to make you cum again. His girl. His only one. His thumb reached to rub circles over your clit. He knew he couldn’t last much longer, especially with the way you were looking at him and he needed you to finish with him. “Vamos baby,” he began to encourage his words husky, “necesito que te corras para mí.”

Your body began to tense under his ministration, your muscles bearing down in anticipation. You could see the concentration on his face, the effort to not blow his load just yet. Not before he had made you cum one more time this round.

You moved your fingers down to circle your clit, replacing his own fingers to speed the process along just that little bit quicker. “That’s it baby, so beautiful. That’s my girl,” he encouraged until you were able to let go.

Your orgasm hit you like a truck, your fingers reaching to grip tightly onto his biceps and ground you as he continued to pump himself into your sensitive cunt once, twice, three times more until he stilled, his chest heaving as his body fell forward. His arms just about caught him, propping himself up before he collapsed on you completely as he filled you up.

You sighed as you breathed heavily and tried to regulate yourself. “Uhhhgg, so much for no strings attached.” you finally said when you didn’t feel like your heart was going to lurch out of your chest anymore.

“Yeah,” he chuckled and agreed, his head turning so he could look you in the eyes once again. “So much for no strings attached.” he repeated, before you both began to laugh.

#joaquín torres #Joaquin Torres x reader #smut #Joaquin Torres smut #avengers reader insert #ask #request #falcon #fanfiction #mcu

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mischievous-thunder · 4 months ago

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Is that how you ask a pretty princess to get some sleep, huh Wade?

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wolvietxt · 3 months ago

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hiiiiiii jay!! ive been having an unhealthy sleeping schedule lately, so i just wanted to know what you think frank would do if he catches you up pulling an all-nighter cause of some uni work when he came home from one of his missions. most especially, when you tell him you’ve done it for three straight nights while he was gone…

FRANK knew something was off the second he stepped into the apartment. it was quiet, too quiet, but not in the way that usually meant safety. the tv wasn’t on, no music played softly from your phone, and you didn’t come running up to him the second he locked the door behind him.

his gut clenched.

he slipped off his boots, careful not to track any dirt or blood onto the floor, and listened. he heard it then - the faint sound of typing. quick, rhythmic, desperate.

with a sigh, he followed it, walking toward the kitchen, where the glow of your laptop screen cast shadows across your face. papers were scattered everywhere, some crumpled, some covered in highlighter. empty redbull cans were scattered around the tabletop. a half-eaten granola bar sat next to an empty coffee cup, and another coffee was in your hand, fingers curled tight around it like a lifeline.

you didn’t even notice him.

“sweetheart.” his voice was low, firm.

you startled, eyes snapping up. he saw the exhaustion in them instantly - red-rimmed, glassy, dark circles bruising your skin.

“frank,” you breathed, blinking fast like you were trying to clear your vision.

he didn’t move toward you just yet, but he looked you over, taking in the way your hands trembled around the coffee cup, the way your shoulders sagged under the weight of whatever you were doing.

“what’re you doin’ up?” he asked, though he already had an idea.

“just… finishing some stuff,” you mumbled, eyes darting back to your laptop. “it’s nothing, really.”

he glanced at the time on the microwave. 4:12 a.m.

his jaw ticked.

“when’s the last time you slept?”

you hesitated, biting your lip, and he knew right then you were about to say something he wouldn’t like.

“um … a little bit, here and there,” you finally said, voice too soft, too small.

frank sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “baby.”

“it’s fine,” you tried to reassure him, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “i just needed to catch up on work. it’s been kinda crazy, and i thought, you know, since you were gone, i’d just - ”

“how long?”

your mouth opened, closed.

he took a step forward. “how long you been doin’ this?”

“…three nights.”

his nostrils flared.

“three damn nights?” his voice was sharper now, and you flinched. not out of fear, but because you knew how much he hated this - hated seeing you worn down, pushing yourself past your limits. you’d hate to see him disappointed in you but in your defence, you thought he’d be home a whole lot later.

“i just - i had to, frank,” you whispered. “i got so behind, and i didn’t want you to come back to me all stressed and falling apart, so i just - ”

his hands were on you before you could finish, tugging you up and out of the chair, wrapping you up tight against him. you didn’t even realize you were crying until he sighed against your hair, feeling the dampness on his shirt.

“sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough with something heavy, something that made your chest ache. “you think i care ‘bout any of that? you think i want you doin’ this to yourself?”

“i just wanted to keep up,” you sniffled, fingers fisting in his jacket. “i didn’t wanna be a mess when you got back.”

he pulled back just enough to cup your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. his eyes, dark and tired but so damn full of love, locked onto yours.

“you could be the biggest damn mess in the world, and i wouldn’t care. you hear me?” he said, low and firm. “don’t wanna come home to you runnin’ yourself into the ground. don’t wanna see you like this.”

you nodded, lower lip trembling, and he groaned, pressing a kiss there, then another, then another, like he was trying to fix it, to erase the exhaustion, the stress, the weight you’d been carrying alone.

“c’mon,” he muttered, tugging you toward the bedroom. “you’re done. no more of this.”

“but - ”

he shot you a look. “no buts. you’re gonna sleep.”

you wanted to protest, but the second you hit the bed, exhaustion slammed into you like a tidal wave. you barely registered the weight of him next to you, pulling you against his chest, hand rubbing slow, soothing circles against your back.

“gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he whispered against your hair, voice soft, warm. “always.”

and for the first time in three nights, you believed it.

ᰔ frank castle : @stvr-dust, @uncertified-doc, @erospecies

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

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ashdreams2023 · 9 months ago

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Natasha saving her friend who is an avenger from HYDRA and helping them with with recovery and trusting their friends (her and other avengers) again?

Natasha x friend reader

Recovery

Natasha had many near death experiences that left her thanking whatever god that was real, but saving you was the hardest thing she had to do, not physically but emotionally, the white sound blocking the alarms in the building, the red lights that flashed in her face and state of your weak body in the cell she found in.

It took everything in her to stop herself from barging into your hospital room when you did a full physical for make sure you’re not damaged.

She cried in the bathroom after the first time she had a proper conversation with you after you were allowed visitors.

You seemed shaken and distant.

"Want to go for a walk? The park isn’t busy this time of day"

You shook your head and gripped your blanket tighter "No thanks…I’ll rather stay in"

Natasha didn’t lose hope though, she didn’t to bring the old you back and it starts the day you get out the hospital.

She moved you into the compound and took all your important belongings from your apartment and placed them in a big room Tony had prepared.

The other avengers filled a side of your room with thoughtful presents and flowers, they ate your family dishes at meal time and Natasha took the liberty to get you out of bed to the front garden and race with you, get your energy back.

You still flinched at any loud sounds but a pair of headphones and an apology from thor was enough to make it better.

Natasha asked bucky for help, knowing he knows most than anyone how hard it is to come out back in society as a decent member.

"Do you feel like going for a walk today?" She asked again but this time you met her with a soft smile and grabbed your jacket.

Natasha kept close, a part of her anxious for your mental strength but for the most part she felt at ease, you could meet people’s eyes again and didn’t flinch as much when people pumped into you accidentally.

Her favorite part was knowing you wanted your guns back, you wanted to go back into your regular routine.

"I miss shooting targets while you beat someone up in the first floor of the building" you laughed.

She smiled pumping her shoulder to yours "I miss it too, welcome back"

#best friend natasha #natasha x you #natasha x y/n #mcu natasha romanoff #natasha imagine #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #imagine #mcu #marvel imagine #marvel headcanons #mcu requests

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silver-inked-quill · 1 year ago

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✨Masterlist✨

{Requests open}

🖤Lord of the Rings

The one who reads the sky (Legolas x reader- fluff cute)

🖤Marvel

The Falcon and the Owl (Sam Wilson x Stark!reader)

Pinned (Bucky x reader- spicy)

🖤Duskwood

Episode 7½ (all parts) (completed)

Broken promises (on going)

🖤Bat family

Time is running out (oc)

🖤Shadowhunters

For my Parabatai (tid Jem and Will)

Lacking the bond (Julian Blackthorn x Emma Carstairs)

Lean on (Alastair Carstairs x Thomas Lightwood)

Drusila x Ash

Time Warp (Matthew Fairchild x Lightwood Reader TMI) : 1 2(on going)

The Last Hours of a Herondale: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Last hours of a Herondale AO3 (complete chapters, on going)

🖤Harry Potter

Rebirth p.1( George x reader)

🖤9-1-1

Eddie Diaz

Detective's rescue

The Abduction

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moonyflesh · 4 months ago

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-> HUGH JACKMAN as OLD MAN LOGAN in ‘LOGAN’ (2017)

#commission #request #moodboard #logan howlett #wolverine #marvel comics #marvel #mcu #wolverine moodboard #logan howlett moodboard #old man logan #logan 2017

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pixiekiwi · 4 months ago

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love your works! How about lokixreader (friends to lover). Where the reader decides to try to get over loki by going on a date because she thing loki doesn’t like her like that. So how loki finds out about her going out on a date and I’ll leave the rest up to you!

You Mischievous Little Thing | Loki Laufeyson x Fem!Reader

HELLOO!!! Thank you so much for this ask :3 I may have not written exactly what you were imagining, however I had a lottt of fun adding to this prompt. I also... wrote quite a bit more than I was expecting, the words just kept coming!! I hope you enjoy!! :D Reminder, asks are still open <3

Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

Description: Loki finds you on a date, with another man, wearing his colors.

Warnings: Slight NSFW content, no set timeline, jealous Loki ;), feminine reader, no use of (Y/N), slight knife play.

Word count: 3.8k

mea columba: my dove

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

All Mother Frigga was not only known for being one of the smartest and beautiful women of Asgard, but also for the grand soirée’s hosted almost every other week. Typically they were hosted for events, however Frigga also loved to host gatherings for the sake of it, this being one of those times.

You had actually managed to get a date for this ball., and wasn’t an accident. Using it as an opportunity get your mind away from your childhood best friend - The Young Prince, Loki of Asgard.

You had recently come to the realization you had feelings for the man. You noticed your heartbeat would speed up at the littlest of glances, the smallest of smiles, the sweetest of looks.

How you had come to this conclusion was finding your cheeks the brightest of red in the mirror while allowing your mind to fall to the idea of the Prince. You cursed yourself that day, and cursed the God of Mischief for fooling you into these feelings.

You couldn’t help it however, his bashful smiles, his bright blue eyes that seemed to just do things to you - you couldn’t get him out of your mind.

And you knew, he did not feel the same way. I mean, he was Loki of Asgard, and you were you, of… Well, nothing really.

You had met him in the gardens when you were young. Your father was a nobleman on the war council and you had been visiting the castle for a few weeks when you had bumped into the boy. Immediately the two of you clicked, it was easy. You had the same curiosity for the world, the same mischievous and playful spirit, the same yearning to know more, to be more.

And now, centuries later, you lived in the castle. You had moved to the castle at Loki’s request, to help him with his studies to become the Crown Prince for when his brother finally was crowned. Now, you had a rightful seat at the war council - just as your father had.

It had been years of the two of you being side by side, you had become inseparable. Everyone knew it, everyone saw it.

You had both dated others, but nothing ever stuck for either of you. You didn’t mind, until you realized you had feelings for the Young Prince.

So now there you were, down in the Ball Room as hundreds of other Asgardians danced around you all the while awkwardly standing next to your date. Ironically, the only dress you had at the moment to wear was a dark green gown, laced with gold ribbon.

The man you stood beside wasn’t terrible, he was sweet, but just… Boring. It was nothing against him, he was handsome, but he didn’t get your jokes, your sarcasm, or even your compliments. It seemed he truly didn’t have a brain.

You smiled at him as he spoke about battle, in a dramatic fashion - explaining something about decapitating an enemy. You had stopped listening minutes ago, but yet you sipped your drink politely, letting your eyes wander slightly, looking for… Well you know who you were looking for. To your dismay, you had yet to see the blue eyed man.

So you moved your eyes back over to your date, whose name, you actually could not remember for the life of you. He had seemed to now be distracted by one of his friends who had come to speak to him. Seeing as they were now enthralled in a conversation, you took this as the best moment to step away.

You moved quickly, giving a quick muttered excuse to leave and moving carefully to the large banquet table. The foods and deserts upon the table made your mouth water. You reached for a rosatum, thankful for the sweetness that dissolved upon your tongue.

You let your eyes wander again, you watched as couples danced happily upon the dance floor, their lovestruck gazes never leaving each other’s. Your heart panged in an odd manner, was that jealousy? Yearning?

You didn’t know, and preferably, you didn’t want to.

As you were finishing one off of the many drinks you had tonight, you felt a pair of eyes studying you from afar.

You had grown a knack for sensing Loki from what felt like miles away. You were not one for magic, but his magic you could feel. You didn’t know why, you assumed it had something to do with the time you had spent together. However you didn’t mind, he wasn’t able to sneak up on you anymore - he had done it enough.

As your eyes snapped to his, a velvety feeling filled your lungs. A small smile crept up upon your face as you gave him a small curtsey, a running inside joke between you two.

You could see a smile creep up his expression as he bowed his head to you.

You could almost see his eyes graze your figure, but he was too far away to truly tell. Standing the upon golden steps across the room his aura bled confidence, that you could see from hundreds of feet away. He was wearing a beautiful dark green and gold suit plated with golden armor, a show of his status.

You wanted to wave him over, and you almost did - until your date grabbed your shoulder.

“You disappeared back there,” he smiled politely, pulling your attention, albeit begrudgingly, away from the Young Prince across the hall.

You didn’t see how his face fell.

“I apologize,” you smiled half-heartedly.

“I was just getting to the best part,” He laughed, his face red and flushed from alcohol, “I hadn't told you about the beheading!”

He did, a thousand times already.

You hoped your true emotions were not showing upon your face, as that would be quite rude. But truly, you could not stand to be around this man anymore. You had already listened to enough battle re-telling while on the council. You wanted to come up with some excuse to leave, maybe that you had fallen ill - but before you could even get another word out, the hairs on the back of your neck stood.

“Would you care to dance My Lady?”

You spun to the side, unaware of your date’s narrowing eyes upon the man now in front of you both.

“Loki.” you had almost gasped out in relief, he was finally here to rescue you from this horrid date.

His sharp features seemed to soften as they took you in, admiring the gown you had put yourself in. Loki’s eyes met yours again and his feathery gaze fell into an odd stoic wall you could not break through. He smiled politely at your date before holding out his arm for you to grab.

You took it willingly, wrapping your arm with his.

You didn’t even glance back to your date as Loki took you through the crowd, finding a perfect spot for the two of you to dance. You felt yourself become relaxed at the mere presence of him. His familiar oaky and leathery cologne invaded your senses, sending your heart into a frenzy of beats. His hold upon your arm was sturdy and powerful, almost as if proving something. You didn’t question it, happy you now had space between you and the man you were just with.

“A date?” The black haired man finally spoke out. His voice was solid, there was a strong lack of emotions behind his question, throwing you off.

You nodded.

“Y’know, Adrián is one of the stupidest Asgardians I’ve ever met.” He quipped. His tone was void of the typical teasing you were used to, but you smiled and laughed anyway, moving your body with his as you turned to dance with him.

“I realize that now, I actually didn’t even remember his name. I’m not sure he does either, he’s had enough mead for a lifetime.” You smiled, a genuine smile as you gazed up to Loki. Truly taking in his striking features. You had danced together time and time again before, however you always jumped at the chance to admire him. His hair was slicked back and styled, and his blue eyes almost looked green from the reflection of your clothing. “I think I could only handle the same story twice, and I have heard it enough already for a millenia.”

A small smile crept up to Loki’s face at your comment, but yet his stoic facade still stood between you and him. He spun you around once, stepping into place with the others dancing around you.

There was an odd silence between you two at this moment, it made you uneasy. Quiet was normal between you two - time spent together reading by the fire, studying in the archives, or even just spending time going on walks in and around the palace - but this quiet, it was different.

You kept your eyes on him as he failed to meet yours, “Is there something wrong?” You finally asked, your voice filled with genuine concern. You wanted to reach and brush the stray hair from his cheek back behind his ear, but you refrained.

Loki shook his head, licking his lips as he danced your body with his own. His eyes finally falling upon yours as he spoke, “It’s insulting for you to parade yourself out here in my colors, with your arm around another man.”

His words held a certain… frustration, that you could not decipher.

Your lips parted in surprise at his words, your eyes staying upon his as your eyebrows raised, “What?” A small nervous laugh escaping you.

His own eyebrow perked up, spinning you around with him as he scanned the crowd of people beside the group dancing, “Did you do it on purpose?” The irritation in his voice was certain as his eyes met yours again.

You had seen Loki frustrated before, angry even. However this was different - it was an emotion you had not seen upon the man. Your mouth went dry at the accusation, you were confused as to what he was implying - had you understood, you’d probably faint.

“I’m sorry?” You asked again, your voice still holding the nervous laugh from before. Avoiding his gaze you spoke again, “I do not understand what you are insinuating.”

While you failed to meet his gaze, you didn’t fail to notice the pink that seemed to climb up upon his neck. His own eyes flickering away from you to the crowd that surrounded you, he seemed… Nervous.

Suddenly, as if seeing something in the crowd - his eyes glowed with frustration once more before snapping to you again. He spun you around again, your gown glittering under the soft light from the chandeliers. Before pulling you close to his body, leading you two into a gentle waltz. The dancing had now become the background of your focus, giving Loki the authority to lead you was easy.

“Look at you, mea columba. You are adorned in gold and green.” Loki’s eyes scanned you up and down, a dangerous emotion flickering through his blue eyes. “You’re practically mine in those colors.”

Your eyes snapped to his blue ones in surprise. You opened your mouth to respond, but you had nothing on your mind to respond with, you were still mulling over his words in your mind.

Practically his.

You gulped as you closed your mouth, your eyes flitting from his eyes down to his lips, where a small smirk had begun to form upon them. Of course, he was playing a game with you, it seemed he always was. As your eyes met his again, you found the wall that was once there was now broken. You could see his frustration now melt into something different, confidence.

You hadn’t noticed Loki had led you both near one of the many exits of the ballroom. You now had stopped dancing, his arm still leading you two wherever he pleased. You looked around finally, seeing you had stepped past the beautiful archway leading you both down a quiet hall. You didn’t mind, the music was becoming overwhelming.

“It was the only gown that was decent enough for the ball.” The words tumbled from your lips haphazardly, it was the first response you could manage. You cursed yourself internally for drinking as much as you had. Deep down you knew that wasn’t the key to your flustered state, however it was easier to blame.

Loki’s eyebrow perked again at the excuse, leading you to an open isolated balcony looking upon the beautiful Gardens lit under the moonlight below. He turned to you, his arm unlacing with yours and taking a few steps away - keeping his eyes trained to your figure he spoke, “I thought you wore those colors for me.”

You froze, the soft chill of the wind sending shivers up your spine, or was that from him? You couldn’t tell. Swallowing thickly you moved to the edge of the balcony, looking down upon the gardens. Your nerves were on high alert, feeling his gaze upon you as you attempted to ignore him.

You couldn’t, his presence overwhelmed you in a way you couldn’t properly comprehend.

Wearing colors for him? Why would he care? Has he ever cared before?

You couldn’t recall a time where he had.

The silence enveloped the two of you, the only sound being the laughter from the ball room and the soft melody of music that echoed down the hall. Loki’s eyes fixated on you, and your own refusing to meet his. It was a silent battle of push and pull - a simple game which you knew you were losing.

You didn’t notice him pulling nervously at his fingers behind his back.

Knowing you couldn’t just let yourself lose, you pushed back. You felt confidence consume you, as you had played this game with him many times before. Straightening your posture you turned to him, your eyes finding his already upon your form.

They hadn’t left.

And finally - you spoke, bringing the silence to an end.

“I hadn’t realized you laid claim upon a color.”

As the jest fell from your lips, excitement flashed through the prince’s blue eyes. His hands falling to his sides as he moved closer. His body was now mere inches away from yours, you could feel the unusual cold chill from his body that you had grown to find comfort within. His hand reached to lift your chin, his eyes meeting yours.

It seemed as if lightning struck as they connected, your body tensed as the confidence you had just felt faltered for a moment.

A knowing smirk slowly made its way upon Loki’s face. “And anyone that wears it.”

Your breath hitched at the implication, your eyes flicking down his figure before meeting his eyes once again. You gazed at him through your eyelashes, your teeth finding your bottom lip as you returned his playful, smirk.

“Well,” You paused, taking your time to mull over your words as a certain heat rose in your lower half, “If I must, I may just have to - take it off?” You glanced away briefly, “If that pleases you,” you met his blue eyes again, “Your Highness.”

You lowered yourself into a curtsey, your head now below his abdomen. Before you could sink any lower, his cold hand grabbed your upper arm - pulling you back up to him. He was leaning over now, your faces just threads apart.

You could feel Loki’s breath upon your lips as he spoke, “Oh you mischievous little thing,” his tone low and rasping.

Lifting you and setting you upon the bench like railing of the balcony, one hand finding your lower back, his grasp the only thing between you and the gardens below sending a wave of adrenaline through you. His other hand - crawling up your leg under the flurry of skirts you adorned, your own hands finding his neck. He whispered finally, leaning over so that his lips now at your “You know I would like to do that myself.”

Stunned by his sudden actions, his declaration, and the closeness of the two of you - it had seemed as if you had suddenly lost the ability to speak. Your lips parted in surprise, his strong grasp steadying you just enough.

Your nervous gaze fell upon him - his attention fixated upon you. Your lungs shook as you took in a shuddering beeath, searching for the words to say, to continue this game.

But you couldn’t find those words, in fact, he didn’t even give you the chance to - as his lips were now on yours.

Your heart skipped eight beats at once and a small gasp escaped you. His kiss was hesitant at first, but when your eyes fluttered closed, and your hands found his hair, pulling him closer - as if giving him permission - he didn’t restrain himself any longer.

Loki’s hand on your lower back was now moving up to your shoulder blades, moving your body flush to his. The hand that resided within your skirts gripped your thigh tightly - as if he could sink claws into your warm flesh.

As he leaned closer, you broke away - your nervousness from being mere inches to the edge causing your momentous pause. Breathless and shamelessly warm, your lips parted, ready to warn him of your anxieties. His hungry eyes met yours and he spoke for you.

“You think I'd be so foolish as to let you fall?” He clicked his tongue teasingly as he spoke, “The only foolish thing I’ve done is let you be seen in this dress while not by my side.”

A wild glimmer flickered through his icy blue gaze, desperation clawed through them as they trailed down to your gown. As they flicked back up, the mischievous smirk you were used to took hold of his expression. You could see the gears turning in his mind - you knew his next actions would be bad news.

You felt yourself flush with amorous excitement.

Loki’s hand upon your back lowered once more - all the while still holding you sturdy - and his other hand loosened from your thigh. “We wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong message now,” his eyebrow perked as he cocked his head to the side slightly, his tone low and commanding, but yet far from his usual Prince-like-regality, “Would we?”

You felt a cold sharp object graze where Loki’s hand once was. Your breath hitched as you heard the sharp ripping of fabrics.

Your eyes snapped down, your skirts now cut away, revealing your bare legs and a dagger gripped between Loki’s palm. As he conjured the dagger away in a fluff of green particles, feathery gasp escaped your lips at the sudden coolness of the breeze against your skin. His hand found your thigh once more - however much higher than he had before.

“Much better now,”, he pulled you against him and wrapped your legs around his lower half. His dangerous gaze never seemed to falter.

“Don’t you agree?”

You wanted to disagree, in fact you wanted to yell at him for cutting up such a beautiful gown. But hungry excitement flooded your veins.

“Loki…” You whispered out a warning. You wanted to say more, tell him that this game had gone too far - but the yearning for more clawed through your chest and down through your lower half. Something else told you this wasn’t a game anymore. Your tongue flitted over your lips - Loki’s eyes falling to them - watching as you bit back the words you truly wanted to say.

“Oh mea columba,” He practically groaned out - his voice coated with desperation, “As much as I love seeing you in gold and green, I think I’d much prefer you with nothing on.” As he spoke, his hand on your upper thigh crawled farther up - reaching the hem of your panties.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as his cold fingers played with the hem “If that pleases you, My Prince.”

As the words left you, his gaze shot to yours. His eyes glowed with hunger, so much so that even you could see that he was starving.

“What would please me, is the idea of you never wearing another man's arm -” He paused, his fingers slipping under the hem, his hand grasping the side of your hips. He lowered, his lips finding your jaw - you stretching your neck to give him access. The kisses started slowly, giving you time to move your hands around to his neck and lowering them further down his chest.

“However,” he began again - his lips now lowering down to your neck “You can wear my colors-” He stopped again, his teeth now grazing your collarbone, unbeknownst to you his piercing gaze stared up at you, “As long as I get to claim you as mine.”

You shuddered at his words, realizing this was not a game anymore. This was desire. Your hands found the back of his head once more, his once styled and slicked back hair was now a mess - his natural curls now showing through.

The goosebumps that raised on your flesh was telling enough for Loki, he smirked against your skin. Straightening himself into a stand, all the while kissing you feverishly up your neck and collarbone.

Tightening his grip upon your hip - hovering his lips just breaths away from yours he spoke, “Should we take this to my bed chambers then,” he paused, his sensual gaze now upon yours, “My lady?”

You gazed up at him through your lashes - your body warm with desperation, with the want - no - the need, for more.

“Please-” the plea was barely a word, but instead a hushed moan that you couldn’t control.

At the sound Loki’s eyes flashed - both hands now at your hips, lifting you from the railing. His arms wrapped around you, flushing you against him. You barely had time to register the green particles that surrounded you both, before your head was upon a pillow and soft silk sheets beneath you. Loki’s arm released you gently as he leaned back, now straddling you.

He whipped his hair back, brushing it away from his face as he took a steadying breath, his eyes finding yours again. You noticed he no longer wore gold armour, but just his shite undershirt and black pants that he wore underneath.

Your heart seemed to stutter as you watched him, his biceps flexing as he moved to unbutton half of his shirt. His sensual gaze looking you up and down, sending shivers through your spine, and velvet through you.

“Now,” He spoke finally, pulling your hands that laid at your sides up, above your head onto the headboard. His face now inches from yours once more, “Let’s get this torn gown off of you.”

704 notes · View notes

helaintoloki · 25 days ago

Note

Hey there! I’ve got a little request for you.

What about a fic where the reader has to go back in time to the 40s (perhaps for an infinity stone? Work it however you want). It’s supposed to be a quick mission. Until they run into a young Bucky.

a/n: hi anon! i hope you don’t mind but i made some tweaks to the request to fit the story i came up with. however, the original idea of reader going to the 40s is still there!

warnings/notes: angst, fluff, sort of an enemies to lovers piece

summary: after accidentally sending yourself back in time, you run into a younger version of the man you loathe only to find yourself questioning your feelings for him

“You’re such a jerk!”

“Oh, so saving your ass makes me a jerk now?” Bucky retorts in annoyed disbelief at your insult. The two of you haven’t exactly been getting along as of late, so it wasn’t a surprise to either of you that your first assignment together was proving to be disastrous.

“Saving me?” You repeat incredulously, halting in your steps to whirl around and angrily point a finger against his chest. The firmness of his muscles has you faltering for a split second, but you’re adamant not to let your stupid little school girl crush on the man stop you from tearing into him.

Sometimes you’re not even sure why you have feelings for someone who constantly pushes your buttons and tests your patience, but it’s hard not to fall for his good looks and charm, especially during the rare moments of pleasantness you experience when he’s not getting on your nerves. You and Bucky rarely see eye-to-eye, and though for the most part you can tolerate each other, your camaraderie doesn’t last long.

“Shoving me out of the way when I had a clear shot isn’t saving me! I had it covered before you decided to play hero and treat me like some damsel in distress!”

“You had a clear shot and so did the sniper sitting on that rooftop,” Bucky points out with an irritated tick of his jaw. “You couldn’t have gotten the hit with a bullet hole in your head.”

You falter momentarily at being presented with your error, face beginning to heat with embarrassment at being in the wrong. However, your stubborn nature takes over and causes you to double down on your anger instead of admitting fault.

“I don’t need your help. In fact, because of your little stunt my inhibitor is broken,” you state indignantly while lifting your wrist to show the damaged metal band, “so now I have no way to safely get us home.”

Bucky blanches at the realization, and now it’s his turn to feel hot with embarrassment and guilt for his mistake. You’re one of the enhanced members on the team, an Avenger with the power to teleport not only from place to place but also through time, but your ability isn’t always the most reliable. It can be unstable when used too often or without proper concentration, which is why Tony had crafted your inhibitor bracelet to ensure you didn’t accidentally teleport yourself or your teammates to the middle of nowhere. You didn’t trust yourself to make the jump back to the compound without it, and now the two of you were stranded.

He curses under his breath and runs an anxious hand through his hair before saying, “We’ll have to call for someone to come get us.”

“No shit,” you retort only to earn an eye roll from him in response. “But that’s going to take hours, and if we stay here we’re dead.”

“Look,” Bucky sighs depreciatively, “we need to figure this out together, so I’d appreciate a little less sarcasm and a little more-“

The sound of gunfire interrupts Bucky’s rant and sends you both ducking for cover. Your arguing had allowed enough time for the enemy to counterattack with an ambush, and now you were cornered with nowhere to go. You find yourself pressed against a metal crate, making yourself as small as possible while trying to form some sort of an exit plan. Your attackers were closing in, and you felt the anxiety beginning to rise in your chest at the fact that you had nowhere left to run.

Bucky calls your name frantically, breaking you out of your panicked daze quickly enough for you to register the woman approaching you with her gun raised. Your eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights, and when she pulls the trigger you feel your powers activate on instinct as you’re teleported out of the line of fire.

You land on the ground with a groan.

Tingles run down your body from the use of your powers, and it takes you a moment to adjust to the new surroundings you find yourself in. The packing warehouse you’d been dodging gunfire fire in is long gone, and instead you find yourself in an alleyway nestled between two apartment buildings. Your mind is frantic as you try to scramble back up onto your feet only to crumple down in pain from your fall. You think you’ve twisted your ankle, and you don’t know where you are or how to get back home.

You attempt to use your powers to jump back to the warehouse to help Bucky, but without the inhibitor bracelet your teleportation has become shoddy. You let your head fall back with a frustrated groan at being completely helpless and try to clear your mind to figure out your next move.

“Excuse me,” an oddly familiar voice calls from the other end of the alleyway, “are you alright, miss?”

You lift your head at the sound of approaching footsteps and are met with a set of kind blue eyes that have your breath catching in your throat. His face is so much younger and full of life, not yet tainted by the trauma he’d endured after the events of the war. He’s beautiful, and you find your heart nearly leaping out of your chest when he makes his way towards you. He reaches out to you with his left hand, and you stare down with uncertainty at the warm flesh that replaces metal.

You’d accidentally sent yourself back in time, and now you found yourself face to face with a Bucky who had yet to become the Winter Soldier.

“I… I’m fine,” you finally manage to get out after willing away your initial shock. You hesitantly accept his hand and are unnerved by the unusual warmth his palm emits against your own. He helps you back onto your feet only for you to stumble as a result of your bad ankle. His strong arms catch you in an instant, holding you upright while you brace yourself against his firm chest.

“Looks like you had quite the fall,” Bucky says with a lighthearted smile while meeting your gaze. You see something shift in his features when he looks into your eyes, an awestruck sense of admiration washing over him as he takes in your disheveled appearance. You begin to fear that he has you figured out, that somehow he knows who you are and that you don’t belong, but instead he merely wipes away a smudge of dirt from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“You’re a knockout,” he compliments before letting out a sheepish laugh at his own boldness. Your stomach flips at his confession, and you have to stop and remind yourself that this is a completely different Bucky from the one you know. The Bucky you have back at home would sooner call you a pain in his ass than ever call you beautiful.

“Thank you,” you breathe out nervously, flashing him a meek smile while subtly trying to free yourself from his hold. You have no idea what repercussions will come from you interacting with him, and you still need to figure out a way to get back to your own time now that it’s been made clear you sent yourself to the past. You attempt to walk only to wince again at the ache in your leg, something Bucky notices immediately.

“You’re hurt. Let me take you home with me, my Ma can fix you right up and get you something to eat,” he offers only for you to quickly shake your head.

“I couldn’t impose. I’ll be fine, really,” you try to assure him, but your obvious discomfort isn’t very convincing.

“Nonsense. What kind of a man would I be if I left you here in this dingy alleyway to fend for yourself? My mother raised me better than that.”

You can’t help the soft smile that forms on your lips at his kindness. Steve had often mentioned how charming Bucky was in his younger days, how he had swept countless girls off their feet with his chivalrous nature and good looks. Bucky would always grumble about his friend’s need to exaggerate on the details of the past, but you were now seeing firsthand the truth to the Captain’s stories.

You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t stop yourself from finally relenting to Bucky’s request. How can you deny him when he flashes you such an endearing grin and looks upon you with eyes full of tenderness? You expect him to take your hand or give you his arm to steady yourself for the walk home, but he instead surprises you by literally sweeping you off of your feet and carrying you in his arms. You gasp, fingers anxiously clutching at the fabric of his dress shirt while you look to him with wide eyes; his strength is unwavering, and his lips sport a proud grin as he whisks you away to his apartment.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ve got you.”

Your inner turmoil is almost unbearable as you struggle to comprehend the sweetness of this Bucky in comparison to the brooding nature of your own Bucky. You’re not used to such acts of chivalry or flirtatious remarks, and it certainly doesn’t help alleviate the crush you harbor on your teammate. If anything, you’re even more confused now than you’ve ever been when it comes to your feelings for the Winter Soldier. You’re adamant about not falling into the fantasy, about staying focused on the task at hand, but it’s hard to do so when Bucky is so obviously sweet on you.

“I’ve just realized I don’t know your name,” he notes thoughtfully. “Most guys usually know the name of the girl they plan to bring home to their mother.”

“Y/n,” you reply gently despite the heat that spreads across your face at his jest, not even sure if giving your real name is the right move.

“Y/n,” he repeats sweetly, devoid of the usual tone of annoyance or irritation you’re used to. “I think that suits a pretty girl like you. My name is James, but most people just call me Bucky.”

“I like James,” you admit truthfully while avoiding his burning gaze. “I think it suits a gentleman like you.”

“A gentleman, huh? Mom will proud to hear that.”

You find yourself subtly sneaking a glance at his face while he speaks, unable to resist drinking in the details of a younger, innocent Bucky who has yet to endure the horrors his future has in store for him. He exuded confidence and light, and you could see why girls would throw themselves at his feet just to see his smile. This Bucky was full of hope, and your chest ached at having to keep what you knew about him hidden. You couldn’t risk stirring up trouble in the past by telling him what would take place after being shipped off to England and meddling with a future that had already been set in stone, and you knew he might not even believe you anyway. You had no choice but to keep your mouth shut and maintain your composure until you managed to get back to the present.

You eventually make it to his apartment and find your stomach twisting with nerves as Bucky carefully sets you down so he can unlock the door. You’re not sure how you’re going to handle meeting his mother or setting foot into his childhood home, and the entire situation feels much too intimate for you to bear. You’re an intruder in his life, the one he kept close to his chest away from everyone but Steve, and you wonder how much he’ll hate you for this when you finally get back.

“Let’s get you inside,” James urges, gently guiding you through the doorway while being mindful of your bad leg. He lets you hold onto his arm while escorting you towards the couch. The living room is quaintly decorated with photos and antique furniture, and the floral patterned wallpaper reminds you of the one your grandmother had kept in her home. The smell of a freshly cooked meal wafts through the apartment, and from the distance you can hear the quiet crackle of the kitchen radio playing a tune.

“Wait right here,” he says with a wink before disappearing down the hallway and leaving you to your own devices. You debate making your escape while he’s gone in order to avoid delving deeper into Bucky’s past life, but you know you won’t get far with a twisted ankle. Instead, you choose to quickly comb your fingers through your hair and dust yourself off to make yourself somewhat presentable in the presence of his mother.

“I’m telling you, Ma,” Bucky’s voice echoes through the hallway as he makes his return to the living room, “she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat at his flattery and try to appear as inconspicuous as possible despite your nerves. You can’t help but wonder how you’re supposed to go back to normal after all of this is over, and a part of you is starting to dread returning home.

Bucky walks into the room with an older woman on his arm. She has beautifully curled hair that’s been pinned back neatly to frame her weathered face. Despite the wrinkles under her eyes, they are bright with joy when she gazes upon her son, and her ruby red smile flashes pearly whites your way when she finally rests her attention on your awkward form.

“Mom, this is y/n,” Bucky introduces proudly, “I promised her you could fix her right up.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” his mother croons as she seats herself beside you. “James told me all about your nasty fall, but I don’t want you to worry. You’re in good hands here with me.”

“Thank you so much for your hospitality, Miss,” you express earnestly as you look into her striking blue eyes she shares with her son. “I promise I won’t be in your way long.”

“Nonsense,” she dismisses you with a wave of her hand. “Any friend of my James is welcome in this home. And please, call me Winnifred.”

“Thank you, Winnifred,” you repeat with a grateful smile, the woman’s kindness having alleviated some of your stress. You watch as she begins to scan over your features for any other possible injuries while taking in your disheveled form; her brows furrow slightly when she takes note of your attire.

“What peculiar clothing,” she murmurs while running her fingers along the rip in your tactical suit. You blanch slightly at the realization that you aren’t exactly dressed for the time period you’re in and scramble to come up with a lie.

“It’s my factory uniform,” you quickly fib, grateful for the fact you’d paid attention in your high school history class. “I make munitions for our boys overseas.”

“I love a woman in uniform,” Bucky notes with an innocent smile despite the flirtatious tone of his words.

“How admirable of you! But surely it must not be very comfortable. Why don’t you get cleaned up and changed out of that uniform before I wrap your ankle? I’ll find you something else to wear.”

“I’ll show you to the bathroom,” Bucky offers before assisting you back onto your feet. You wrap an arm around his midsection to keep yourself propped upright while lamely limping down the hallway with his help. “Mom really seemed to like you, not that I’m surprised.”

“I can see where you get your charm,” you tease gently, almost melting at the boyish grin that forms on his lips in response. Would it be wrong of you to wish you could have such an easy rapport with your own Bucky as you do with this one?

You make it to bathroom where James shows you how to work the shower before giving you your privacy. The water pressure isn’t as strong as what you’re used to back at the compound, but it does the job. You’re grateful to finally scrub off the grime and dried blood that had accumulated from the mission, and you feel like you’re in a much clearer headspace now to start planning your next move.

A simple dress is laid out on the dresser for you when you finish your shower, and once you’re decent Winnifred sits you down and wraps your ankle. She insists you keep off your foot and rest for the remainder of the evening in her daughter’s bed seeing as she’s off at a sleepover. You know better than to object to the woman’s demands, and so you find yourself seated on the cushiony mattress with a dinner tray on your lap. You’re absolutely starving, and you’re grateful to finally have the chance to eat considering you need your strength in order to attempt teleporting without the help of your inhibitor.

A gentle knock on the doorway interrupts your ruminative dinner, and you watch curiously as Bucky slowly peeks his head into the door.

“Mind if I keep you company?”

“Of course not,” you hum gently, heart thrumming in your chest when he seats himself on the edge of the bed beside you. The scent of his cologne mixed with his natural musk drowns your senses, causing a longing ache to settle in the pit of your stomach as you’re reminded of the fact that you must leave him behind when this is all over.

“How’s the ankle?”

“Your mom says the swelling should go down in a day or two as long as I keep off of it.”

“Does that mean you’ll be sticking around here a bit longer?” Bucky asks with a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. You smile faintly, but it isn’t very convincing.

“I can’t,” you relent gently, guilt consuming your entire being at the way his features falter in result. “I have to get back home.”

“You have someone waiting for you?” He prompts softly, absently fidgeting with a loose thread from the comforter.

“I do,” you confess quietly. You watch his gaze drop down to hide his disappointment, head shaking slightly as he lets out a soft chuckle.

“I should have known a girl like you would already be spoken for. Is he handsome?”

“Very,” you nod sheepishly, your face growing hot at having to confess such thoughts to the younger version of the man you picture in your head. “His eyes are blue like yours, but his hair’s a bit longer. He doesn’t smile much, but when he does it lights up an entire room.”

“Does he treat you the way you deserve?”

“He can be cold and closed off at times, but I know deep down he cares. He just isn’t very good at showing it, and I certainly don’t make it easy for him. I can be a handful, and we fight a lot, but I think I love him anyway.”

Sighing, Bucky runs his fingers through his perfectly combed hair before meeting your gaze. You watch as he reaches out to gently take hold of your hand in his left one. You can’t remove your eyes from the flesh no matter how hard you try, and you don’t think you’ll ever get over the feeling of being able to touch the arm that has yet to be tainted by Hydra’s touch. You almost want to tell him, but you’re able to bite your tongue.

“There isn’t anything I can do to change your mind?” He asks while giving your hand a gentle squeeze. His eyes are full of hope and admiration for the woman that had spontaneously fallen into his life, and though he’d only known you for a short period of time he knew that something about you was special. You were unlike any woman he’d ever met, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life getting to know you.

“I don’t think so, James,” you comfort softly. You feel so bold as to rest a hand gently upon his cheek, and you’re rewarded by the feeling of him leaning into your touch as he melts into your palm. “You’re a wonderful man, and I have a feeling this won’t be the last time our paths cross.”

Smiling faintly, Bucky cheekily turns his head to press a chaste kiss to your palm. Your breath catches in your throat at the act while your stomach flutters with nervous butterflies, but you don’t make a move to pull your hand away.

“I’ll hold you to that, sweetheart. I’d be a fool to let a girl like you out of my life,” he says with a wink before reluctantly beginning to pull away from you. Before you can stop yourself or think it through, you frantically shoot your hand out to keep him in place.

“Wait!” You exclaim desperately, catching both Bucky and yourself off guard. You know better than to bring the future to the past, and you know in the end that altering the course of his life won’t change the events of your present time, but you owe it to the man who had shown you such kindness to warn him about his fate.

“What is it, y/n?”

“I…,” you begin to say, faltering as you struggle to get the words out. He looks to you patiently for you to finish your sentence, and despite the guilt that consumes you for changing your mind, you continue, “I want you to promise me you’ll be careful in the future. I couldn’t stand anything happening to you, and I just want you to be safe.”

“Oh,” Bucky breathes as if he hadn’t been expecting such a serious profession. After processing your words, the man simply gives you an affirming nod and replies, “of course I will, doll. Anything you ask.”

The turmoil within you at keeping the truth to yourself persists, but you’re unable to say nothing more as Bucky rises from his seat on the bed and takes your empty tray from your lap. “I’ll get this out of your way.”

He leans down to press a tender kiss to your forehead before excusing himself from the room, shutting the door behind him to give you your privacy. You let out a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and blink back the tears that threaten to spill. You cherish the time you’ve spent with him here in his own time, but you also miss the Bucky you have back at home. You’ve never hated him, you just never understood him or the walls he insisted putting between you, but you can see now just how much Hydra had taken from him. He hadn’t always been the grumpy soldier you knew him as, and your stubborn nature certainly didn’t help him come out of his shell.

You needed to make things right, not only with the Bucky from your timeline but also with the one who had just spent his entire day looking after a complete stranger.

Despite the painful throbbing of your ankle, you will yourself out of bed and desperately rush towards the door. You know that exposing his true fate will not alter the course of your timeline, but perhaps there’s a possibility it can give him the chance to create a new timeline where he never gets the chance to become the Winter Soldier.

“Bucky!” You call out in hopes he’ll come rushing back down the hall. You’re so desperate to reach him that you don’t notice the soft glow of your inhibitor bracelet, and your frantic state of mind creates a lack of control over your teleportation ability.

You reach the doorknob just as your powers activate, and when you step through the doorway you are no longer in the apartment of James Barnes but instead in your own bedroom back at the compound.

You stagger forward in a daze, mind reeling from the use of your powers as you struggle to adjust to your new surroundings. Your heart drops to your chest when you finally come to the realization that you’re back where you belong, and you slowly sink down to your knees in tears over the fact that you’d been too late. Bucky would return to an empty bedroom, and he would go on to live the life that fate had chosen for him.

You couldn’t protect him- you’d failed.

You begin to sob as the amalgamation of emotions from your experience overtakes you, and you’re so consumed in your grief that you fail to hear the sound of your door sliding open behind you.

“Y/n? It’s been three days, where the hell have you been?” A startled voice sounds, causing you to jump in surprise. You turn to find Bucky standing in your doorway, his irritated features morphing into confusion at the sight of your distraught state. Tears steadily stream down your cheeks in time with the trembling of your shoulders, and he slowly makes his approach towards your figure on the floor. “Y/n?”

Bucky cautiously sinks to his knees beside you and places a careful hand on your back. The coolness of his metal arm has you shivering, a stark contract to the warmth you’d felt when he’d held your hand in his Brooklyn apartment. “Are you alright? What happened?”

You don’t think before throwing yourself into his arms and holding tightly onto his frame. Bucky nearly topples over from the impact but is quick to regain his balance so he can hold you both upright. Initially he isn’t sure how to react considering this is the first time you’ve ever willingly gotten this close to him let alone hugged him, but he’s eventually able to reciprocate the act by wrapping his arms around your trembling figure and holding you close to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, fingers tightly clutching at the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. “I’m sorry for always giving you such a hard time, for being so stubborn. You don’t deserve that, and I should have tried to be a better teammate.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky shushes gently, his tone unusually gentle as he carefully pulls away to look you in the face. “I know I’m not exactly the most pleasant person to be around sometimes, and I haven’t always been the nicest to you either. I’m sorry for that.”

“You mean you’re not going to yell at me for disappearing on you? You don’t hate me?” You snivel, prompting his lips to quirk up into a rare smile.

“I’m not going to yell at you for something you can’t control. And I never hated you. I just… never really knew how to be around you. Steve always speaks so highly of you, you’re everyone’s favorite, and I never felt like I had the right to know you so intimately the way they do. I figured keeping my distance would be easier, and I thought you preferred it that way considering our track record.”

“I don’t want you to keep your distance anymore,” you plead softly. “I want to be around you, I want you to feel comfortable around me.”

“That can be arranged,” Bucky notes with a faint smile while carefully brushing away the last of your tears, “but can I ask you what brought this on?”

“It’s a long story,” you admit while guiltily avoiding eye contact with the man. You’re not sure if you should tell him the truth about your venture just yet, but you don’t have it in you to lie to him. You know you’ll have to tell him one day, but for now it can wait. “Being gone these past few days just gave me time to get a new perspective on things.”

“Well, whatever happened, I’m glad it did,” he says truthfully. “Now let’s get you cleaned up so you can let the rest of the team know you made it back safe.”

You allow him to help you up off the ground just as he had in that alleyway, and when he looks down at you with his soft blue eyes you’re able to see his younger self once more. The charming, chivalrous James Barnes who had taken such good care of you still existed within Bucky, it would just take time for him to come out of his shell and open himself up to you the way his past self had done so.

And you would wait all the time in the world for him.

#mel writes #bucky barnes #james barnes #40s!bucky #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #request

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