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gyugraphy · 16 days ago

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psyche (1)

— synopsis. After the catastrophe in New York-when the Void tore through the city-the Thunderbolts know it can't happen again. Bob Reynolds doesn't need another collar or containment spell. He needs help. Enter her: a psychiatrist with an unusual gift, capable of stepping into the mind itself. No one expected her to reach him-least of all, him. "You're just going to leave me the moment it gets too hard, aren't you?" he says. She meets his gaze, steady and unshaken. "I've walked through nightmares to get to you. I won't walk away now."

— pairing. robert reynolds (sentry/the void) x reader

— warning/s. mentions of trauma, mental illness, depression

— word count. 5.1k

⋆˙⟡

“Strange called,” Christine Palmer said, not looking up from her tablet.

You glanced in her direction but didn’t respond. You felt like there isn't anything worth saying. Instead, you focused on the soft, familiar sounds around you—the quiet clatter of metal instruments being cleaned at the nearby sterilization station, the steady shuffle of footsteps on polished hospital floors. A monitor beeped somewhere down the hall, keeping time in the way only machines could. The hum of fluorescent lights overhead, that you never really noticed, added to the background noise.

In the corner, a few patients sat hunched in plastic chairs, wrapped in hospital blankets that offered more symbolism than warmth. Their faces were drawn, tired, a mix of exhaustion and quiet anxiety. Some waited for scans, others for pain relief, a few just for answers that might never come tonight. They all shared the same energy, that tension that lived in the bones of everyone who passed through the ER after dark. You knew it well.

You were supposed to have clocked out an hour ago—your shift technically ended at midnight—but no one really left on time in this place. The ER didn’t care about schedules. It held you in its grip until it was ready to let go, and sometimes, not even then. Not when a life could still slip through the cracks—because of a missed bleed, a bad stitch, or the wrong word spoken at the worst possible time.

Christine tapped her screen a few times, then added, “Apparently, Bucky Barnes asked him to help find a psychiatrist.”

That made you pause, your fingers hesitating on the chart you were holding. Still, you didn’t look up. The case wasn’t serious—just a minor injury with a straightforward treatment plan. You met Christine’s gaze briefly, then looked back down, eyes scanning through lines of notes more out of habit than need.

“You know I’m not practicing anymore,” you muttered. “Psychiatry, I mean.”

Christine leaned a hip against the counter beside you, folding her arms. “Since when? You’re double-boarded. And don’t give me the ‘I’m just a surgeon now’ line. I’ve heard it too many times to believe it.”

“It’s not a line. It’s a preference,” you said, your voice flat. “Organs are a lot simpler than people's minds.”

“Sure,” she said, the sarcasm thin but present. “You can cut them open, take out what’s broken, sew them back up, and call it a day. But that’s not why you switched.”

Your hands stilled mid-note. The chart blurred for a moment, your pen hovering above the page.

“Tell Barnes to find someone else.”

“Actually, he didn’t call,” Christine said quietly. “Strange didn’t either.”

You looked up, and she turned the tablet toward you.

“They just sent me this.”

Your name was there in bold, black text at the top of the screen—accompanied by layers of encrypted clearance codes, redacted fields, and a formal request for psychiatric consultation. It wasn’t just a note. It was government-level. Serious. Sealed. No fluff. No context. No diagnosis.

Just one name buried in the lines of classified language.

Robert Reynolds.

You stared at it. The name carved through you like a scalpel—sharp, precise, and deep. Your chest went tight. Not with fear exactly, though it wasn’t far off. Christine watched you too carefully now.

You said the name aloud, almost to yourself. “Reynolds. Sentry? The Void? The man who turned Manhattan into literal shadows?”

Christine’s voice softened. “He’ll could probably eat you alive,” she said. “Whoever it is. You know that.”

You didn’t answer. You glanced at the clock hanging on the wall beside you. You reached for the gloves on your hands, peeled them off one by one, and tossed them into the biohazard bin beside the counter. The silence between you stretched.

“You’re not going to do it,” Christine said, trying for a steadier voice. “Right?”

But you were already moving. You grabbed your coat, your badge, and turned toward the hallway that led to the staff exit.

“Right?!” Christine repeated, this time louder. You only waved her off by raising one hand as you continued to walk.

Christine sighed under her breath, watching you go.

“Oh, she’s in trouble,” she mumbled, more to herself than anyone else.

⋆˙⟡

The city didn’t feel real when you stepped outside.

Maybe it was the late hour. Or the way the streetlights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a dim, unnatural gold. The sidewalk gleamed with recent rain, and the night air clung to your skin—cool, damp, electric. Maybe it was just the words still echoing in your mind.

Bob Reynolds.

You heard that name before—not whispered behind closed doors, not even in passing. People avoided it deliberately, like saying it out loud might stir something sleeping. Might invite the dark back in.

He doesn’t need containment. He needs healing.

That was what the message had said.

But you knew what it really meant. You could read between the encrypted lines. Reynolds wasn’t just unstable—he was a ticking bomb they didn’t know how to disarm. He wasn’t a patient; he was a problem no one wanted to admit they couldn’t fix.

They were looking for someone to step into the fire and hope they didn’t burn.

You had no intention of being that someone.

Not anymore.

It was just past two in the morning when the elevator doors slid open on the surgical floor. Most of the hospital was asleep or pretending to be. You were still on your feet—finishing post-op notes in the nurses’ station, trying to tether yourself to something routine. The soft tap of keys, the faint smell of coffee gone cold, the distant echo of an intercom down the corridor. These were the things that kept you grounded when your hands weren’t cutting. When your mind threatened to drift.

The hallway was quiet. Empty.

And then, something shifted.

You didn’t hear him at first. You felt him. A subtle change in pressure. A ripple through the air, like the building itself had gone tense.

You looked up.

There he was.

Bucky Barnes. Standing in the middle of the hallway like a ghost. Dressed in black, that metal arm catching the flickering light overhead. Expression unreadable. Posture coiled.

Your fingers hovered over the tablet.

“Subtle,” you said dryly.

He didn’t smile.

“I’m not here to make a scene.”

“You’re five seconds from getting tackled by security.”

“I turned off the cameras on this floor.”

Of course he did.

You sighed and slid the tablet aside. “You could’ve sent a message.”

“You would’ve ignored it.”

He wasn’t wrong.

You stood, slowly. Kept a polite amount of distance between you. “You want a consult.”

“No,” he said. “I want you.”

That gave you pause. He saw it.

“I read your work,” he continued. “The old stuff. Before you scrubbed it. Neural pathway immersion. Psychogenic structure mapping. Entering the subconscious. Rewriting trauma loops from the inside.”

You kept your expression still. “That research was never meant for clinical application.”

“It saved people.”

“No, it delayed their collapse. That’s not the same thing.”

He took a step closer. “You walked into the mind of a patient mid-psychotic break and helped him walk back out.”

“That patient relapsed two weeks later. Nearly took out his care team with him.”

“But he lived,” Bucky said. “That’s more than Reynolds has right now.”

Your chest tightened, but you didn’t let it show. Not much, anyway.

“So let me get this straight,” you said, voice cool. “You want me to crawl into the mind of the most powerful bipolar the world’s ever known? A man who once turned half of Manhattan into literal shadows? You want me to walk into that and—what? Talk him down?”

“He’s not just the Void.”

“No. But the Void is part of him. You don’t separate the two.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. His voice dropped.

“He’s trying, okay? He’s lucid. Or close to it. He’s afraid of what he’s done. He wants to be better—but no one can reach him. They’ve all stopped trying. Except me.”

You studied him then. Not just his words, but everything else—the tight set of his shoulders, the wear in his eyes, the quiet tremor under all that steel. This wasn’t just a mission for him.

“You care about him.”

His breath hitched. “I know what it’s like to be controlled by something inside you. Something you didn’t choose. Something you hate.” His voice cracked just a little. “So yeah. I care.”

You looked away. The floor felt suddenly distant under your feet.

“I’m not a miracle worker, Barnes. I’m not some psychic surgeon. I can’t promise I won’t make things worse.”

He hesitated. “Would you try… if he asked you himself?”

That stopped you.

Your throat went dry.

“You think he wants me?”

“I think he’s afraid of you,” Bucky said. “Which is exactly why I think he needs you the most.”

You exhaled slowly. The kind of breath that emptied your lungs and still didn’t feel like enough.

The name echoed again in your mind like a wound reopening.

Robert Reynolds.

You crossed your arms instinctively, bracing against the words. Against everything they meant. You weren’t ready to say yes—but you couldn’t walk away yet. Not when the puzzle Bucky had thrown at you was already rattling around in your mind like a loose coin.

"Tell me more about him," you said, before you could second-guess yourself.

Bucky blinked, clearly expecting you to brush him off, maybe even shut him down. But you hadn’t done that. Not yet.

He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice as if the air itself might carry his words further than he wanted. "Bob... he's not what you think."

You could feel the weight in the silence between you, the hum of fluorescent lights and distant beeping from another part of the Tower, but it felt miles away. The shift in Bucky’s voice wasn’t a demand. It was a plea—one you weren’t sure you could ignore.

"He's always been complicated," you said, trying to keep your tone neutral. "Sentry and the Void aren’t easy to separate."

Bucky nodded slowly. “I know. But right now? He’s more fractured than ever. The Void doesn’t just come out and take over anymore. It’s... it’s slipping into him, little pieces at a time. He doesn’t know where the man ends and the monster begins.”

You stared at him, thinking of everything you’d heard about Bob over the past few months—the whispers, the rumors, the stories that came with living in a world of meta-humans. The Sentry, a hero with the power of a god, the man who’d nearly torn apart the world itself in a breakdown. The Void, a primal force of destruction that had no regard for morality or life.

But hearing the weight of that confusion in Bucky’s voice was new. And it unsettled you more than it should have.

"Where is he?" you asked, voice quieter now.

"He’s here, in New York," Bucky said, his eyes flicking away. "Living on the same floor as the rest of the Thunderbolts— or the new Avengers. We’re all on the top level of Avengers Tower, trying to keep him from... from himself."

You blinked. Here? With the Thunderbolts? In Avengers Tower? That was... an entirely new layer to the situation. You weren’t sure what was more surreal: the fact that Bob Reynolds was living under the same roof as some of the most dangerous people on the planet or the fact that you’d just been asked to walk into his mind.

“How is that even... manageable?” You asked the question, but you weren’t sure if you were asking Bucky or yourself.

Bucky’s jaw clenched. "We try to keep him grounded. When he’s not... when he’s lucid, he’s like any other person. He talks about everything—sports, movies, some of the stuff that made him happy before everything broke down." He exhaled sharply, clearly frustrated. "But the minute he starts spiraling, it all goes wrong. The Void starts leaking through the cracks. And it’s not just him anymore. He reflects everyone else’s fears. He mirrors them. It’s like we’re all living in his nightmare when that happens."

The implications hit you like a truck. A man who could turn his fear into destructive power was now having his own breakdown while everyone around him became collateral damage.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of Bucky’s words settle deep in your chest. “Is anyone else in danger?”

Bucky hesitated. “Not unless we provoke him. But... it’s getting harder to contain. We don’t know what he might do when he finally snaps, and we can’t keep him isolated forever. Not without breaking him completely.”

You shook your head, barely processing the words. Living with the Thunderbolts? This wasn’t just a clinical case anymore. This was a man in desperate need of help who could bring the whole team down with him if things went sideways. And you were being asked to wade into the heart of it.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” you muttered, more to yourself than to Bucky. “You want me to just walk into his mind, face whatever twisted version of reality he’s experiencing, and fix it? I’m not a magician.”

“You’re the only one who’s ever been able to do something like that,” Bucky pressed, voice low but insistent. “You helped people when it seemed like no one else could. Even when it wasn’t perfect, they stayed alive. And you’re the only person who can actually get in there, see it from the inside. No one else has that ability. No one else can.”

You pressed your palms against your face, exhaling sharply. Your mind spun. This wasn’t just about fixing someone. This was about getting close to a raw, broken mind—an unstable mind that could tear apart everything around it if pushed too far. You’d been in this position before. You’d seen minds crumble and break. You’d been the one to pull them back—but not without a price.

“Why me, Bucky?” you said, the question finally spilling out. “You know this isn’t going to be easy. I’m not some miracle worker. I can’t promise I won’t make it worse.”

Bucky’s expression softened. “Because you’re the one who never gave up on the people everyone else walked away from. You see them. Really see them—without the fear, without the labels. You don’t treat people like they’re lost causes. You treat them like they’re still worth saving.”

You took a step back, your chest tightening. You’d made it clear years ago that you wouldn’t practice psychiatry anymore. You weren’t the kind of person who specialized in people’s mental health, not when it carried so much emotional weight, not when the cost was too high.

"He's afraid of himself," Bucky said, almost as if he were reading your thoughts. "He’s terrified that he’s going to lose himself again, that the Void is going to take him completely. But there’s still some part of Bob in there. He wants to be better. He wants to make it stop. I know he does."

You swallowed. “So where does that leave me?”

Bucky stepped closer again, lowering his voice. “I need you to help him. Not fix him. Just help him understand he’s still in control—if he is. If there’s still a way to reach him before it’s too late.”

You closed your eyes again, the pressure in your chest rising. But when you opened them, Bucky was still there, his gaze steady, waiting for something.

And you knew, despite everything, you were already halfway in. Even if you didn’t want to be.

⋆˙⟡

The Avengers Tower loomed like a monument against the night sky, its gleaming windows reflecting the city lights below. As you stepped inside, the difference hit you immediately. It wasn’t the usual cold, sterile atmosphere of hospitals or military facilities. No, this place was warmer—not in temperature, but in feel. It had a kind of lived-in quality you weren’t expecting. The faint smell of coffee lingered in the air, mixed with the scent of old books and worn leather furniture. Shoes were scattered by the door, someone’s guitar leaned against the wall in the corner, and someone had scratched “Yelena was here, losers” into the corner of the counter.

"This is the Thunderbolts' floor," Bucky said as he swiped the access panel, letting you both pass through. There was a strange undertone to his voice, a quiet sort of pride—or maybe wariness. "It’s... a work in progress."

You raised an eyebrow. “A rehab wing for ticking time bombs?”

Bucky gave a small, tight smile. “Something like that.”

The elevator doors opened to a wide living area that was surprisingly quiet, dimly lit. The hum of music thudded faintly from another room, but the space itself was calm—almost peaceful. You noticed how the walls weren’t bare and cold like the rest of the building had been. Bookshelves lined the walls, mismatched furniture sat comfortably in corners, and discarded snack wrappers sat on the coffee table. It didn’t feel like a headquarters for elite soldiers and heroes; it felt more like... home.

Before you could take it all in, a voice rang out, piercing through the quiet.

“Bucky!” The voice was sharp, teasing. “Who’s the new blood?”

You turned to see Yelena Belova striding toward you. Barefoot, dressed in sweatpants, her braid half undone, and a crooked grin on her face, she looked like she didn’t have a care in the world. She took a long look at you, her grin widening.

“She’s not mine,” Bucky said quickly, as if almost to assure you—or himself.

Yelena shot him a knowing glance. "Pity," she said, her grin only growing wider. Then, her eyes shifted to you. “I’m guessing you’re here to meet Bob?”

Bob. That nickname.

You nodded, but you could feel the weight of Yelena’s gaze. Her expression shifted slightly, and you didn’t miss the subtle change. It wasn’t fear, but something much more calculated—like someone who knew the danger that came with being in close proximity to a ticking time bomb, and what could happen if that bomb ever went off. There was wariness in her eyes now, something you hadn’t expected after the teasing remark.

Bucky didn’t miss it either. “I’m bringing her to meet him.”

At the mention of Bob Reynolds, Yelena’s expression changed again. Her playful smile slipped just a fraction, and the playful tone in her voice dimmed. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at you with a kind of guarded understanding, before finally speaking.

“Be careful,” she said, her tone softer now, though still carrying an edge. “He’s a bit sweet. Until he’s not.”

You paused, the weight of her words sinking in. Sweet. Until he’s not. That one sentence sent a chill down your spine. You’d heard the name Bob Reynolds before, the Sentry, the Void—the rumors about his mind and his power were legendary. But this? This was a whole different level of complication. Sweet until he’s not. You couldn’t ignore the warning, not when you were about to walk into that very storm.

Bucky stepped forward, breaking the moment of quiet tension. His voice was quiet but firm. “I’ll be with you. You’re not going in alone.”

You didn’t say anything right away, your mind already racing. You weren’t sure if you were relieved or more uneasy now that you had confirmation Bucky would be there. It didn’t make it less dangerous.

“Thanks,” you finally said, though you weren’t entirely sure what you were thanking him for yet. Maybe it was just for getting you this far.

Yelena took a step back, a small smirk still tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’m just saying,” she added casually, “you don’t have to rush in. No one will blame you if you need a minute to run.”

You chuckled lightly, though the humor didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Right,” you said, your voice tight, “I’m sure that’ll be helpful.”

Bucky didn’t linger, turning toward a door at the far end of the room. It was heavy, imposing. You could tell this wasn’t just any door; it was the kind that kept the more... unpredictable things behind it. Bob Reynolds, the man who had lived through the collapse of his own mind, who carried the weight of the Void in him. You had an idea of what kind of danger he represented, but standing in this place, it felt much closer than you had ever imagined.

“Ready?” Bucky asked, looking over his shoulder. There was a glimmer of something in his eyes—maybe it was concern, maybe it was just routine. Either way, it didn’t settle your nerves.

You took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be,” you said, but even as the words left your mouth, you felt the truth of them slip through your fingers. This wasn’t about being ready. This was about what you could handle when everything fell apart. You didn’t have any illusions about how this might go.

With a quiet hum, Bucky led the way to the door. You followed, feeling a kind of coldness creep into your limbs despite the warmth of the room around you. Whatever was waiting behind that door wasn’t just about Bob Reynolds. It was about everything that had led him to this moment. The Sentry. The Void. The man who had been both savior and destroyer. And now you were about to walk into that darkness.

The door to Bob’s room was slightly ajar when you arrived, and Bucky didn’t hesitate. He knocked once, then pushed the door open.

Inside, Bob sat at the edge of the bed, his posture tense, hands clasped tightly between his knees. His blonde hair was a little too long, and his shirt was wrinkled, like he hadn’t bothered to care about his appearance in the last few hours—or days. He was staring at the floor as though it might somehow provide answers to whatever was going on in his head.

When you stepped inside, his eyes flickered up to you. The movement was slow, almost as if it took him effort to pull himself away from whatever was haunting him in the depths of his mind. And then—he blinked.

“Oh,” he said, the word soft and distant, like it didn’t quite belong to him.

Bucky stepped forward, giving you a glance before offering the introduction. “This is her,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “The one we talked about.”

Bob stood, his movements awkward, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He was tall—broad in the shoulders, built like a man who could break cities—but he moved like someone terrified of knocking something over, of breaking something fragile.

“You’re… the mind walker,” he said quietly, his voice low, tentative.

You nodded, crossing the room slowly to close the distance. “And you’re the man with the monster inside him.”

Bob’s lips twitched—a ghost of a smile, fleeting and uncertain. “Guess we both come with warnings,” he muttered, the humor in his voice strained but there all the same.

The air in the room felt thicker now, the weight of his words hanging in the space between you. You studied him for a moment longer, the tension building like an unspoken agreement that neither of you could escape. You stepped closer. Without saying anything more, you both sank into the floor, sitting cross-legged across from each other. The distance between you was minimal, just your knees nearly brushing. But it was enough to feel the tension crackling in the air between you.

“I need your permission,” you said softly. “To go in.”

Bob didn’t hesitate, though his eyes were dark with uncertainty. He nodded once, the smallest motion.

You closed your eyes.

At first, there was nothing. Calm. His mind opened before you like a gate, as if it was letting you in—but something was wrong. Behind that gate, you could feel a storm building, growing, ready to unleash.

And then—

You were in.

It was worse than you had expected. The space around you was dark, twisting. The architecture was impossible—floating staircases, walls that screamed, mirrors that bled shadows. It felt like a mind split in two: one side terrified, the other hunting. The chaos was dizzying, the sensation of being swallowed whole by something far larger than you.

And then you felt it.

Something massive, coiling around the core of his mind. It was there, lurking. Watching you.

The Void.

It turned its head, and you felt its eyes on you—it smiled.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” it whispered, its voice like shards of glass scraping against your skull.

Pain bloomed instantly. A searing throb behind your eyes. Your nose started to bleed, the pressure inside your head unbearable.

“Get out,” Bob’s voice said, faint, distant—not the Void’s. “Get out now!”

And before you could even process the command, your body snapped back. Your eyes flew open, and you gasped for air, choking on it as blood dripped from your nose. You blinked, disoriented, and found yourself back in the room with Bob.

He stumbled backward, pale, his breath ragged, eyes wide with fear. “You saw it,” he said, his voice trembling.

You wiped the blood from your face and sat back, trying to catch your breath. “I felt it,” you said quietly, the weight of the experience still heavy in your chest.

Bob’s eyes searched your face, his expression torn. “Did it… did it touch you?”

You shook your head slowly. “No. But it came close. Too close.”

He let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t know it would go after you.”

You exhaled, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of the Void’s presence. “We’re not ready,” you said, your voice a little steadier now. “We need to know each other first. Establish a connection before diving into something like that.”

Bob didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just stared at you, like you had said something that didn’t quite register in his mind. His expression was still unreadable, but there was something there—a glimmer of hope, perhaps, that you could give him something he’d lost. Something he didn’t think he could ever get back.

“Okay,” he said softly, as if testing the words. “We can… get coffee or something.”

You gave him a small, understanding smile. “Let’s start with daylight.”

Later, back in the common room, you nursed a pounding headache and a steaming cup of tea. Yelena was sprawled across the couch, her feet resting on the armrest, eyes half-closed. Her gaze flickered over to Bob, who lingered just inside the doorway, watching you like he was afraid you’d vanish if he looked away.

Yelena’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. She lowered her voice, but you could still hear the teasing note in it. “Someone’s got a crush.”

Bob’s face flushed instantly, his eyes widening in embarrassment. “I do not,” he muttered, like a kid caught in the act.

Yelena raised an eyebrow, her smirk turning smug.

For the first time all day, you couldn’t help but laugh. It was the kind of lightheartedness you hadn’t felt since stepping into this mess, and it felt like a small, precious thing in the middle of all the chaos.

You finished your tea, Yelena stretched across the couch like she owned the place, eyes flicking between you and Bob with far too much interest. Bob hovered by the doorway, visibly trying to gather the nerve to speak, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like a schoolboy.

You stood, brushing off your hands. The day had been long, and you were more than ready to go.

Just as you stepped toward the elevator, Bob moved quickly, blurting, “Uh—wait!”

You turned to him, surprised.

He looked like he instantly regretted speaking so loud. “I just—uh, I think we should talk again. Tomorrow. If you want. About… you know. Everything.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Alright. Where?”

Bob blinked. “I—uh, I don’t actually know where you work…”

You let out a breath. “Metro-General Hospital”

His eyes lit with recognition. “Right, yeah. That makes sense. I’ll be there. I’ll wait until your shift’s over.”

You studied him for a second. He was tall and intimidating by most standards, but right now he looked like someone nervously asking their crush to prom.

“Okay,” you said, biting back a smile. “I’ll see you then.”

Bob nodded too many times. “Cool. Good. Great. Okay.”

You stepped into the elevator. As the doors started to slide shut, you heard Yelena’s voice behind you—lazy and far too entertained.

“She said yes, Romeo,” she drawled. “You can breathe now.”

Bob muttered something unintelligible.

Yelena’s laughter echoed down the hall just before the elevator doors closed. You shook your head, grinning to yourself.

Tomorrow was going to be something.

⋆˙⟡

The Sanctum-like glow of protective wards hummed low along the ceiling as Stephen Strange poured tea into two mismatched cups. The room they were in wasn’t grand — no spell-casting library or mystical relic chamber — just a quiet observation lounge. It had a clear view of the city below, and right now, the skyline looked distant and unbothered by the storm they were preparing for.

Wanda Maximoff stood by the window, arms crossed. Her reflection in the glass looked tired.

“You didn’t tell them everything,” she said without looking back.

Strange let out a quiet sigh as he set the teapot down. “I told them what they needed to hear.”

“No,” she said, turning slowly. “You told them just enough to believe this was still safe.”

Strange didn’t flinch under her stare. He simply raised his cup and sipped.

“She’s walking into a fractured mind with something ancient wrapped around its spine. The Void doesn’t just destroy—he consumes. She’s not just risking injury. She’s risking... unmaking.”

He nodded, gently. “I know.”

Wanda stepped closer. “So why send her?”

“She’s not like us,” Strange said.

Wanda frowned. “That’s not a reason.”

He looked up at her, finally setting the cup down. “It is. You, me, even Charles—we bring power, force, structure. She brings something else. She listens. She understands how to walk with someone in their madness, not just force them out of it.”

Wanda studied him for a moment, then said, quieter, “What’s the best-case scenario?”

“She reaches Reynolds. Helps him stabilize. Creates a bridge between him and the monster he’s trying to cage. If she succeeds… the Void stays dormant.”

“And the worst?”

Strange was quiet for a long moment.

“If the Void latches onto her,” he said finally, “we lose both of them.”

Wanda looked down.

“She doesn’t know how dangerous she really is, does she?” she asked.

Strange gave a faint, unreadable smile.

⋆˙⟡

A/N: Let us all pretend Wanda is very alive for the sake of this fic! Part 2 will most likely be posted this weekend (or later, i have work during weekdays). Comment or dm me if u wanna be included in the taglist for part 2 <3

#bob reynolds x y/n #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds #thunderbolts au #thunderbolts x reader #bob reynolds #bob thunderbolts #sentry x y/n #sentry x reader #lewis pullman #bob reynolds x reader #thunderbolts fanfic #thunderbolts imagine #mcu fanfic #mcu au #mcu oc #mcu x reader #yelena belova #bucky barnes

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wayeasier · 6 days ago

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COUNT TO TWENTY-TWO — part two

⋆˙⟡ robert (bob) reynolds x reader (thunderbolts*)

summary: Last mission for the week. Or that's what Valentina had told you. Now you're stuck somewhere in the dephts of Utah's desert with very strange acting four people. A Red-Room assassin, a teleporting woman, a wanna-be Captain America and a nervous, confused looking man in hospital clothes.

warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, thunderbolts* spoilers (obviously)

author's note: english is not my native language, so i apologize for all grammatical errors / mistakes in my writings (if there are any)

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Winsconsin. That's where you are right now. You don't know where exactly, but you know you're surrounded by a never-ending forest. No signs and no roads nearby. Somewhere in the deeper reaches of the forest is an establishment, camouflaged amidst the trees. It's the home of corruption, exploiting environmental programs for personal gain through the funds of government. Corruption lives there, hiding.

The hidden facility is so deep in the forests, far from where humans are living. Far from everything. There is no satellite trail of them, buried inside the forest, hidden from the eyes of others. Nearly invisible to all. But not to you.

When you finally caught sight of the building, you realized how well hidden it was. Its frame crouched low beneath the trees like it was hiding from the world. No lights outside, looming in the darkness. No patrols in sight. The trees around it had grown almost to its walls, camouflaging itself. It looked nearly as if it had been swallowed by the forest itself. They were too confident that nobody would find them there and you were here to prove them otherwise.

When you rounded corner of the bulding you saw him. A single guard, tactical geared vest on his shoulders, pacing slightly in the narrow space between the trees and the wall of the hidden building. His voice was low, but loud enough for you to catch a few phrases. He had a phone pressed to his ear, mouth curling in a faint smile as he spoke. He didn’t see you. He wouldn’t. You stepped silently from between the trees, right towards him and then launched forward in absolute dead silence.

Your knee slammed into the back of his thigh and his leg buckled with a grunt of surprise. He staggered forward, dropping his phone onto the ground. You quickly caught him just in time before he fell on the floor as well. One of your hands snapped over his mouth and nose before he could yell out something and alarm others. The other hand clamped beneath his jaw, fingers digging into the pressure point on his neck. He struggled briefly, shaking in your arms, his back pressed tightly against the front of your tactical vest. You pressed harder, his body twitching few times and muffled sounds coming from beneath your hand. Then he went limp and you carefully put him on the ground without making any sound.

You quickly made work of his things. You took his pistol and card from his belt. Card for the entrance. You took them and rounded the building once more, going straight towards where the hidden door should be located. You found a small hole, where the card should be inserted to open the door. You slid the card quietly in and the door pushed itself open in silence. Not a quiet hiss, nothing, it was so quiet. You waited for a brief moment, listening if someone is on the other side. After a moment, you didn't catch a single soul pass by. You then slid inside, closing the door behind yourself.

The hallway of the building stretched ahead in absolute pain-looking symmetry. Light grey walls, dark grey concrete floor, a ceiling of low, grated panels that barely lit the space. More fitting into minimalistic aesthetic.

Your boots were silent on the floor as you walked straight down the hallway. There were no cameras, they were too confident that nobody would find their hiding hole. You passed into another hallway, each of them looking almost identical. There were no decorations, just plain non-colorful hallways. No tables, flowers, posters, carpets or windows. It was empty. Almost too empty. You slid into the nearest door in another similar hallway, using the same keycard again to open the door.

Inside was a kind of a server room with long rows of lighting and humming machines. They were casting blue light over the light grey walls. The first colorful thing in the whole building. In the center of the room was a console, sleek black. Which would be your target. The millions of stolen money, hidden data, stripped names, identities erased and rewritten, all stolen from the government under unknown organizations and many other databases. All that flowing through this single point right in front of you. You moved toward the terminal, pulling the virus drive from your tactical belt. Then you reached for the port, ready to plug it in and delete all their hard-work. But suddenly there was a sound from behind you. The door opened. Someone else had entered the room. You didn’t hesitate. You spun, drew the stolen pistol and raised it towards whoever had entered. But you were too late.

They were faster. A shot rang out and went straight through your head.

You dropped on the floor and everything went black.

But not for long.

Because you now stood where you stood twenty-two minutes earlier. Outside, at the back of the building. Standing once again over the unconscious guard, pistol in hand, card in your pocket. You quickly moved towards the hidden door. The person who killed you was still alive. Now he knows someone found their location and you know he will contact his team in a matter of a second. You didn't waste another second and went straight into the long hallways, straight towards where you died. Your body would be gone by now, disappearing into thin air after you reappeared back alive.

You ran silently down the corridor, your breath tight in your chest. You had to make it before he said anything to anyone. Before the entire system locked down and hid itself even more. The door was just before you. Quickly making work of sliding the card inside and then the door opened. The man was still there, his back turned towards you.

You jumped onto him. Your knee colliding with his back. His spine arching forward and his stomach hit the table in front of him. He didn't even manage to shout before your hand closed around the back of his head, fingers gripping it. You yanked his head down. Hard. The sickening sound of his forehead meeting the metal edge of the console echoed through the room and then his body slumped down.

When the body fell, you quickly reached for the drive in your belt. You quickly rammed it back into the port of the computer in front of you. The screen flickered and glitched, lines of bright blue codes blinking rapidly on the screen. Your fingers flew across the keyboard, unlocking bypass protocols, disabling the ability of recovery and opening all encrypted parts of their system. Bypassing every security layer. All of their security logs going completely blind. Then one by one, each of their datasets started to fail and delete itself. You hit another set of keys on the board in front of you and forced the data-player into a deconstruction loop. They wouldn’t be able to restart it even if they would've started from the beginning. Dataset after dataset collapsed. Then you locked it, under many sets of passwords. By the time the whole building would realize their whole money-laundering, data-stealing system is gone, you would be across the whole country in a different state.

You stepped over the unconscious guard, yanked the drive back out from the port and tucked it into your belt. Staring at the self deleting systems in front of you.

You pushed the door open, sliding the card through the hole again. You dead-silently sprinted through the long identical hallways and then came to the hidden doors, sliding the card to open the door again. You ran outside, slipping back into the trees. You walked for at least half an hour before you found your motorcycle, which was safely hidden beneath the branches of towering trees. You approached swiftly, pulled the branches away and then threw one leg over the seat. You threw on your helmet and turned on the motorcycle once. The machine roaring into life. As soon as the wheels found themselves rolling, you leaned forward and the bike surged beneath you, driving through the forest.

You tapped the communications link device in your ear. After a few rings, the certain person picked your call up.

"It's gone," you said, voice barely heard over the sound of the motorcycle growling in the speed.

"Oh, you are so wonderful!" the familiar voice exclaimed. Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. What a sly woman. The woman who has been sending you on missions over the span of many months. Making you into her own little killing puppet on strings.

“I’ve got one last favor for you this week,” she then continued, "it's a little matter in Utah. Seems someone’s poking around one of my O.X.E vaults. I need you to follow the target. Get inside and find out what they intend on steal from me."

You listen to her as you swerved through the forest, "I'll add your biometric data to the system and you will have access to everything. You also have the green light to terminate them."

"Who are they?" you ask her.

"The U.S Agent. Former wanna-be Captain America. John Walker," she spoke into your ear through the comms in your helmet. You swerved around a fallen branch in the forest. The forest started to thin more, nearing the end of it after a good time. You’d be on pavement soon.

"Okay. But why does he needs to steal anything from you?" you asked, a slight confused drawing itself on you.

"I don't know and that's why you will stop him before he steals anything," her voice dropped, tension in her voice louder now.

"Okay..." you trailed off. You kicked the bike into the next gear, the forest giving its nature way fully to a human-made road, your tires gripping themselves on the asphalt.

"Good. I will send you the details. Go to the nearest airport," she purred and then the line cut off. The wind tore past you as the forest vanished in your rearview behind you.

The ride to the airport went by a flicker of a light. You rode over the broken asphalt, straught towards the closest airport to you. The bike wasn't yours, nothing ever really was, but it got you to the airport the fastest way you ever could get yourself there. You left it leaning against a concrete pillar in a nearby parking lot, keys on top of the seat along with the helmet. You went on the first flight to Utah.

The sun was hot overhead, high and sharp during the bright day. Heat shimmered of the stones around. The desert long and its land stretched endlessly. You are crouched behind a thick orange-colored stone. Waiting for your target to enter the vault. You held your gaze fixated on the entrance of the vault, where your target was supposed to go through in any moment.

A slight crunch of gravel echoed up the slope as the man of the hour finally reached the entrance. You stilled your body behind the stone, your eyes never leaving his figure. He walked with a straight soldier temper, his jaw set and dominant posture. His shield on his forearm. He paused at the vault door and then it opened. He quickly stepped inside and the doors slid closed right behind him.

You stood still for a moment, waiting till he's deeper inside the building. A minute passed. Then you slipped from behind the rock, walking silently across the stone and gravel ground. You got in front of the door and then it opened. Just like Valentina had promised. The door clicked and you let yourself in. Nobody was there, you slid your hand down to your belt and pulled out your gun, your fingers wrapping around the cold metal instinctively. The moment the elevator doors to your left opened, your hand with the gun snapped towards it, barrel aligned with the center of it. But nothing. Nobody was standing there. Its doors sat opened, waiting for you to go in. So, you stepped inside, lowering your gun to let it linger in your hand by your side. The doors slid shut behind you and then the elevator began to move down. There were no buttons, only one way up and down, either to the vault or outside from where you had came from.

Then the elevator halted to a stop, its doors sliding open. Your fingers adjusted themselves on the gun and you stepped outside out of the elevator. You saw the only the vault, an opened space where the vault is supposed to be. You walked towards it and you could hear people. Not just one person. Multiple people. And by the grunts sounding out, they were fighting. You quickly raised your gun and moved inside quietly.

There he was, John Walker, your target. He was fighting a short-haired blonde woman, who was yelling at him. On the other side was a person with white mask over their face and it looked like they were teleporting through the room. The blonde woman kicked herself off the man and ran towards the person with white mask.

That was your turn, you swung yourself at the man from behind him. Your knee hit his back, straight into his spine and he leaped forward, falling to his knees. You raised your gun at the back of his head and shot, but he was faster and pushed his shield right behind himself.

"When did you get here?" he yelled out and turned sharply on his knees. His leg whipped towards you, trying to trip you over. You jumped and quickly landed on his leg, he groaned out in pain and threw his shield at you, which did knock you off and away from him. You fell onto your back, but your gun tightly gripped in your hand, so it won't fall out and slide away from you. Before you could stand up, John got pushed away by someone else.

Before you stood the familiar white skull-like face. The person from Budapest. They raised their gun at you and you quickly dipped away, the shot falling right beside you. Your hand steadied the weight of the gun as you quickly composed yourself and jumped onto your feet. Behind you, John groaned, dragging himself back onto his feet.

"I remember you," the person in the skull mask made their mask disappear from their face. It was a woman, half of her face burned.

"From Budapest," you nodded, remembering the interaction you had on subway in the city few years ago.

"I don't want to kill you," the woman told you truthfully, shaking her head, "but I have to."

Her mask went back onto her face and she threw her own shield towards you, you quickly caught it and threw it back at her, which pushed her backwards. Sliding on the floor at the force. Suddenly, another person teleported next to her and hit her hard in the shoulder, pushing her straight against the wall. You quickly moved to where John was now fighting the shorter blonde haired woman.

"You're not even my target!" the blonde woman yelled in a Russian accent at the man as she dipped from his punches and the shield he threw at her.

"You're mine!" John groaned as he angrily kicked the blonde woman away. Hitting her. She slammed against many crates behind her, kncoking over a few of them.

"And you're mine!" you said, which made John turn towards you quickly.

You raised your gun at him and shot out a few shots. He quickly hid himself behind his shield and raised his own gun towards you. You quickly darted to the side, sliding on your knees behind one of the crates. You heard him yell out as the blonde woman ran off towards the two other fighting people in the vault. His back was now turned towards you and you took that in granted. You ran towards him. But he quickly turned towards you because he saw your reflection in ine of the glassy crates in front of him. In one quick swift motion, you drew the small blade tucked at your belt and sliced upward towards his stomach. His suit caught most of it, ripping the piece of cloth off him. You dipped the knife deeper and it finally ripped at his skin. He groaned and punched you across the jaw. Your head snapped to the side, but your legs held you in place. You gripped the knife in your fingers tighter and pinched it in your fingers as you dug it deeper into his stomach.

"Stop bugging me! I need Yelena—" he started to yell out, gripping your hand, which holds the knife.

"You're my target!" you yelled back.You let go off the knife and then jumped onto him, your knee colliding with his stomach and your hands gripped his head. You dragged his head downward and his face hit your other knee. You heard a nice crack as his nose collided with your knee. He let out a loud pained groan.

Suddenly a gunshot ringed out and a pain spread through your shoulder. Someone shot you. The impact of the shot made you let go of John. Your hand instinctively pressing against the wound. John looked to the direction from where the shot came from and quickly ripped the knife out of his stomach with a hiss. His face was beaten and from his nose was streaming blood, going down over his lips. It was the woman with skull-like mask. Your eyes snapped to her.

The masked figure of the woman started running towards you and she quickly wrapped her legs around your neck as she launched herself onto you. Your arms gripped her thighs and you tried to throw her off. In your peripheral vision, you saw John run off towards the blonde woman. With all your strength you threw the woman off and she fell on her back and rolled over, back onto her knees. She quickly got on her feet and raised her loaded gun at you, her fingers a moment from shooting you. Then out of sudden, the white-masked person teleported straight in front of her. Between you and the skull-masked woman.

A gunshot rang out.

The skull-masked woman fell backwards. A shot straight in her forehead. A clean shot straight in the middle. Her body hit the floor, falling onto her back. You stood frozen, looking at her, your chest heaving with breaths. You blinked at the body. The person with white mask, which had teleported between the two of you, had lowered their gun and their mask disappeared. It was a dark-haired woman. She smirked down at the dead woman by her feet.

Then, from behind you, came weird sounds. Human sounds. It sounded as if they were throwing up or maybe gagging at something. You snapped to the side, raising your gun at where the sound was coming from.

"Oh—" there was a man, in a light blue or maybe green baggy hospital clothes with face-length shaggy brown hair. Looking confused as ever.

"Is she... actually?" he trailed, nodding towards the laying woman behind you. Then he runs off, straight towards the open doors. Before he even gets to them, they slam shut. All doors around the vault close. Loudly slamming shut. Trapping all five of you inside.

"Oh no..." he mutters and turns back towards you all. John, the blonde woman, you and the other dark-haired woman look around as the doors close everywhere, trapping you inside. The unknown man then comes nearer and all four of you raise your guns at him.

"Oh—" he raises his arms in front of him. Quickly stopping. Bare feet peeking from underneath his hospital pajama pants.

"Hello. Hi. Um... I'm Bob," he says, his arms raised as four people are aiming their loaded guns at him. You all stare at the man in confusion.

"Who are you?" The dark-haired woman asks the new additional person in the room, her gun still raised towards him.

"I'm... I'm Bob," the man stammers over his own words, his voice shaking, "I told you, I'm... Uh, yeah... Bob."

"Jesus Christ, stop saying Bob!" Your target roars out. You take a good look at the man in front of you, he looks confused, scared even. He doesn't belong here at all. He looks like he had just woken up, his hair messy. You don't recognize him from anywhere. He looks very lost. As if he doesn't even belong down there, surrounded by the other four strangers.

"Who sent you, Bob?" the blonde woman asks him.

"Nobody! Why would I be sent?" the man raises his shoulders, his words slurring in confusion, "were... were you all sent?"

"I'm not sure what's going on here, but you're all exhausting and my job here is done," the woman, who had killed the other woman in skull-mask, says. Lowering her hand with her gun, stepping forward, ready to leave.

"Oh, but you see my job," the blonde woman moves, raising her gun now towards the other woman, "is keeping an eye on you. So, no... You're not going anywhere anymore."

"So, you're keeping an eye on her, huh?" John says, stepping forward and turning his body towards the two women on his left, "that's a half decent cover for someone stealing assets from O.X.E."

"Pretty rich coming from someone who's also stealing," you chuckle at the man with the shield and he raises one of his eyebrows up in confusion.

"I'm not stealing," the blonde woman tells John and she shakes her hand in direction where the other woman is standing, "she's stealing."

That's what makes her stop, as if something clicked in her brain. She closes her eyes and huffs out a breath. Then with a defeat, she shakes her head and lowers her gun.

"Okay. It's clear we've all worked for Valentina in some kind of shadow ops capacity," the blonde woman turns towards the armed people beside her. Now with her gun lowered by her side.

"Yeah. So?" John asks, shrugging his shoulders. Oblivious to what the blonde woman is referring to.

"So all of this stuff is O.X.E's secrets. But so are we!" the blonde woman states infuriatedly, shaking her head with her arms held up.

"Which makes us liabilities that noone would miss," the teleporting woman says and nods, letting the smile slip of her face as she realizes the fact. Staring at the blonde short-haired woman with mixed expression.

"Ah, speak for yourself," John mutters, pride in his voice.

"We are the evidence and this is the shredder!" the blonde woman replies, looking around at the room they're standing in. Then she makes a hand motion under her neck, "she wants us gone!"

You looked over at the hospital-clothed person who's now walking around the crates. You looked at his face, seeing how he looks a bit scared or nervous. As he steps by another box of stuff, his gaze flickers up and meets yours. His eyes stop in yours. You tilt your head slightly as you both hold your own gazes. Then his gaze drops lower, right at your shoulder, which is shot. There is blood around the wound, seeping through your combat gear. You look down at it as well and frown. Then you look back up at the man and he tilts his head as well. As if he was silently asking you if you're okay. You gave him a very small smile and nod.

"Your theory is flawed," John shrugs at the blonde woman's words.

"Oh, please! Go on," the teleporting woman scoffs at him. John then moves which makes the hospital-clothed nervous man step away, walking by another set of the boxes, nearly looking a bit more scared.

"Well, look at the facts," he moves closer to the woman, walking right around her, "the infamous Ghost. A SHIELD reject on run across fifteen nations!"

"The dead girl over here. She destroyed half of the Budapest!" he points at the dead woman behind him.

"Don't talk about her that—" the blonde woman snaps at him quickly when he mentions the dead woman behind him.

"This another wanna-be dead person over here. Why are you even here? You can't even fucking die!" John walks towards you, scowling down at you with a angry shake of his head from side to side.

"Oh, wow! You got me checked out or something?" you scoff at him, putting a hand on your hip, staring up at the bearded man.

"A month ago, on a mission in Oregon. You know who was the person who shot you in the very middle of that forehead?" John says, stopping right in front of you, pointing his finger aggressively right at your forehead, looking down with a pride in a lopsided grin.

"You're so proud of yourself. That's so adorable," you clasped your hands and pouted at him with a smile. Then after a moment, your smile dropped and you scowled at him, "well, fuck you, man."

"And you... A former Red-Room assassin. God only knows the blood on your hands," John walked around the blonde woman and leaned himself against the many crates in the room, his shield propped up on his arm.

"Pretty rich coming from a dime-store Captain America," the dark-haired woman added with a scoff. John turned to her and smiled proudly, "I'll let you know that I was actually the official Captain America, so..."

"Oh, yeah. For like two seconds," the blonde woman joked, earning a chuckle from you.

"Before you publicly murdered an innocent man in the streets. Do I have that right?" the other woman added, tilting her head as if she was trying to get the facts right.

"Oh, really? Define innocent," John snapped back at the woman, "hey. Look... I'm a decorated combat veteran, okay? Got a loving wife and a son. Let's just be honest... You guys are just cheap mercenaries, alright? So cleary, I was supposed to bring you in."

"He's crazy," you flapped out, shaking your head in disbelief at him. Both of the women started to laugh at the man's stupid theories. The dark-haired woman was nodding her head, laughing with her head bent. The blonde woman was looking at John with a big smile, laughing straight into his face.

"That was funny. Thank you, we needed that," she added with a smile, still laughing at his words.

A sudden another set of chuckles sounded from beside you. All four of you turned towards where the sounds came from. It was the hospital-clothed man, he was standing beside few crates, nearly like hiding behind them. A smile now on his face, his teeth showing.

"It was getting so tense in here," he laughed out. His hands holding his own as he stands behind the boxes of stuff. Then he added as he noticed John staring at him, "for a second."

Then his smile quickly disappeared when he noticed the death-glare that the man with shield was sending him. He awkwardly moved and look down at his feet, moving slightly further behind the boxes. His head hung low, rather not catching an eye contact with anyone.

John pushed himself off the box that he was leaning against and started slowly walking with dominant steps towards the awkward man hiding himself behind the boxes, "I'm not leaving here without completing my mission."

"Valentina gave me a clean slate guarantee and I'm not screwing that up," he steps closer to the man, "but this weirdo wasn't part of the job. So, I've got to know—"

He stops right in front of him, the crate blocking his path even closer to him, he gave him a weird toothy smile and finally asked, "how did you get in?"

The hospital-clothed man started to look around nervously, shrugging his shoukders and shaking his head. He let our a puff of breath and turned back to him, "I don't remember."

"Terrific answer," John spat out at the awkward man. Then he turned towards the three of you. You caught eye of the awkward hospital-clothed man again, his gaze turned on you again.

"Alright! Um... Tie yourselves up," John said to all three of you. You raised your brows at him in surprise. His ideas were terrible.

"Wow... No," said the dark-haired woman, "and goodbye!"

She turned away from him and started walking towards the door where the awkward man, Bob, stood before. She clicked on her mask and it closed around her head. Then with another weird noise, she disappeared into thin air. But before she could even get through the door, a terrific high-pitched noise errupted inside the room that you were stuck in. Your hands clasped around your ears and so did everyone else's. The woman reappeared and was clutching her hands over her ears as well, walking backwards, away from the door. She got away from the door and the terrible noise eased. She turned back towards the door, staring right at it.

"Oh! Did you guys heard that?" Bob let go off his ears and turned towards all you. His mouth dropped in awe. The blonde woman's jaw also dropped, surprised expression on her face. Her hand still in the air, just beside her ears.

"What was that?" the blonde woman muttered, more to herself than the others.

"I don't know. But it was fucking loud!" John spat out, already pacing away angrily away from the door.

The blonde woman walked away with a sigh and sank down onto one of the nearby crates, whispering something unintelligible under her breath. The other woman exhaled in frustration, angry at the noise. She then began circling the room.

You stayed on your feet, arms folded lazily across your chest. But with a deep itch blooming beneath your skin where the bullet from the skull-masked woman had torn through your shoulder. As you stood there, from your peripheral vision you saw a blur of light-blue hospital clothing coming closer towards you.

Bob approached you very slowly, almost hesitantly. He just beside you, his hand gripping his own other hand, his eyes darting between your face and the dark red stain spreading across your tactical jacket.

"Hey... Are you sure you're okay?" he stammered, hesitant over his own words, "you're shot. There is... There is a lot of blood."

You let out a small chuckle, "I'm okay. I'm used to it." His face fell a little at your words, his eyes showing a different kind of emotion than before. Almost saddening, "you shouldn't be."

You raised your eyebrow at that, confused. He took notice and continued, "You shouldn't be used to that. Being shot. It's a bad thing..." he added, a bit quieter and sadder now.

"Oh, come on," you quickly cut in, a small smile on your lips, "I'm okay, Bob. I promise."

You reached a hand forward, putting it against his shoulder in genuine manner to let him know that you were indeed okay. Before you could say anything, the room around you darkened, turning into something different. The interior of the room changing itself on its own suddenly.

You turned your head to the side and you were met with a nasty sight right in front of you. There was a little child, sitting on a chair which was too high for the child's size. Legs hanging off it. The little child was wearing a long black hospital gown, falling just over their knees. In the small hands was a small pink birthday card, the little child was reading it. Kicking own legs back and forth slowly. The room was very small and very familiar to you.

Suddenly, the door to your right opened. You looked at it and the small child looked up as well. Through the door came a woman, bright red hair nestled nicely on her hair. Her posture straight as ever. She had a comforting smile on her face, nearly a motherly one. Something what would ease a child in distress. Something which showed kindness, sweetness.

She stepped forward and the small child beamed, a smile spreading on the small features on their face. You stepped forward, closer to the two people in front of you. Your eyes not moving from them, you were stuck.

"Mama. Dziekujem za rodenodnevne želanie," Mum. Thank you for the birthday wish. The small child said, smiling at the red-headed woman. The woman just smiled and stepped forward. She stopped just before the little kid and slowly outstretched her hand, grabbing the small child's own arm. Fingers wrapping around the child's wrist.

"No, no, no... Not this—" you started to say, walking closer to the scene in front of you, but not the close. The woman’s smile only deepened as she stepped forward and held the the child’s thin arm. Then, the red-headed woman grabbed her other arm and reached into her belt, under her shirt.

She took out a gun. A loaded gun.

The child blinked at her. Their smile wavered on their face. Slowly dropping, their shoulders tensing.

"Mama?” Mum? The child whispered, the smile disappearing of the their face, “Što robiš?” What are you doing?

The red-haired woman didn't respond and her smile did not come off her face. She guided the small hand of the child towards the weapon. Her own fingers wrapped gently around the child’s and she placed the gun carefully into the tiny palms of the child. Then together, they both raised it.

"No, no, no—" you cried out.

The end of the gun pressed softly, against the side of the small child’s temple. The child's eyes wide open, staring at the red-headed woman.

“Mama?” Mum? The child said again, more urgently now, "mama, mama, mama, što—” mum, mum, mum, what—

Then. A single shot. A sharp, echoing crack that bounced through the walls. You gasped out, more of a shriek. The child’s body jerked violently to the side as the shot rang out. And then the little child's body crumped, fell from the tall chair and hit the grey ground of the small room. A small, lifeless body of a young child laid helplessly dead on the floor beside its own mother. The tiny fingers which were held by the woman now limp. The legs of the child angeled at a weird unnatural angle as the child laid in its own blood, seeping from the shot in the head.

The small, soft body—your body—laid still.

You choked on a sob you didn’t remember letting rise. It tore its way up your throat and broke free before you could stop it. It was ragged, almost hurt to let out. A pain absorbing into your chest, it was tight. Then quietly, beside you, moved someone.

It was Bob.

He stood there. His face was different now, his expression different. It wasn't something of a disgust, shock or even horrified of the sight before him. It was different. It looked like a heartbreak. As if his heart got broken into thousand pieces. His brows were drawn, looking at you. Instead of stepping back, away from the scene. He stepped closer. Closer to you. You turned towards him slowly and his gaze didn’t leave yours. His mouth opened, kind of as if he was searching for words that didn’t exist at the moment.

The dark color of the room was starting to drain and you were suddenly back in the room you were before. The grey floor was gone, the blood vanished from the floor, the chair was gone and so was the small fragile body of the child and the red-headed woman. Bob was in front of you, his brows furrowed. His lips parted again then closed once again. Unsure of what to say to you.

"That was you—" he rather cut himself off, even though he said that so quiet that not even you could hear it so well. He didn't move and nor did you. You dropped your gaze to the floor, jaw clenched. Shame, disappointment, sadness, everything was burning at the corners of your eyes and deep in your chest, pushing against you.

You couldn't speak. You just stood there, staring at the floor, trying not to let tears flow. Then, with the gentlest way ever, Bob’s finger brushed against yours. Then his pinky gently curled around yours, softly holding yours, "I'm so sorry," he whispered out quietly, only for you to hear. You slowly nodded.

Behind you, a sudden sharp voice of the woman who had killed the skull-masked woman ripped the quiet moment you had.

"Oh, would you look at that!" she exclaimed as she stood over the dead body of the woman, rummaging through her items strapped to her. Her gloved hands searching for something to take with her.

You reached up and quickly wiped your face with the back of your hand. With the hand which was not still wrapped in Bob’s. His head tilted very slightly and his eyes did not move from yours, as if he was searching something deeper inside of them, reaching inside with his own eyes. He then slowly opened his mouth like he had something to say, but nothing came out again. Then, after another flick of a moment, he slowly let go off your finger. Achingly so.

"Don't think about it..." you muttured quietly, more to yourself than to him. You then nodded few times and finally turned away from Bob, whose gaze was still on you. Your steps were quiet as you walked over where the dark-haired woman was next to the dead body of the other woman.

"What are you doing?" your voice cracked a bit. The dark-haired woman lift her head with a small smirk on her lips.

"She won't need any of this anymore, so what?" she said with a shrug and took another item from her and slipping it into her own belt.

"Hey!" sounded from the blonde woman somewhere behind you, "job or not... Could you have some respect, please?"

Just then, John walked nearer and looked at the dead body, "right... Jesus," he smirked and bent down, taking out a small hand-gun from her strapped vest. He turned then at the blonde woman, who was disgustedly looking at the man.

"What? She'd let me have it," he breathed out a laugh with a shake of his ahoulders, "I need it."

Then, suddenly, the lights above went out into darkness and then quickly changed into a red dark light. Everyone flinched and looked up at the lighs, everything around was dark and red. Suddenly, a weird sound came out of ceiling, like something had been started. Weird booming noise.

"The hell is that?" John said loudly as he walked forward, looking at the ceiling from where the sound came from, the four panels above were starting to let out the weird noise.

"Doesn't sound like a shredder," the Ghost said, looking up as well, "it's an incinerator." You frowned at her, looking up at the panels on the ceiling as well. Just as you turned your head, you noticed a timer on the wall and quickly turned towards the others, "hey! Two minutes!"

"Then Valentina's plate is clean," the blonde woman added, kicking herself off the box she was sitting on top of.

"Hey, you don't know that for sure. Could be for anything," John suddenly said, "it could be for when they come to pick me up!"

You frowned at the man. He was so ignorant and incredibly stupid. The blonde woman grimaced at him and shook her head as well.

"Hey, do you feel that?" Ghost asked him angrily, "the temperature rising dramatically... As if the heat was involved!" she threw her hands up in the air, gesturing around her. You smirked at the woman and looked back at the man with the shield. He grimaced and stood still for a moment. He moved awkwardly and then smiled at her in almost unbelievable manner, "well... I guess it's an incinerator."

"Oh, boy! That's not a way to go," Bob, suddenly standing very close to you, said.

John turned towards him, gesturing right at him, "how would you like to die then, Bob?"

"Definitely not burned alive, John," you snapped back at the man, which made Bob next to you let out a small quiet chuckle.

"Well, better than shot in the forehead, eh?" John smirked at you, jokingly. You did not smile at his lame try of a joke. You could feel Bob tense next to you, as if he was the one angry. John's smirk fell off and he quickly muttered, "I was just joking. God... Can't even take a simple joke."

"Alright, Ghost-Lady," the blonde woman moved towards the dark-haired woman.

"Ava—" the dark-haired woman said her name, correcting her.

"Sure, whatever. I don't care," the shorter blonde woman waved her off and pointed her hand towards the closed doors in front of her, "we need to get you through that wall, so you can open up the door."

"She tried that already," John scoffed frustratedly. You rolled your eyes at the man.

"I know she did. But we haven't tried shutting down the sound barrier," the shorter woman explained to John, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

"They built it just for her," he said after a moment, nodding slightly as if something clicked right in his mind, "it has to be an independent power source."

The blonde woman sighed and make a hand wi the the motion. Glad that John finally got what she meant. The Ghost-Lady, Ava, started to move first, "come on! Let's go!"

The time was dramatically going down, a minute left. Everyone was looking everywhere, behind the cartes, over the walls, up at the ceilings. Scanning every shadow in the room. The digital coundown on the wall was glowing with its digits dropping.

"What— What exactly are we looking for?" Bob suddenly asked as he stood in the middle of the room, looking around.

"Not stupid questions, Bob!" John yelled out frustratedly at the other man as he walked past him. You heard it and threw him a glance over the shoulder. The man with the shield shrugged his shoulders and started moving towards another set of stuff somewhere in the room. Bob looked around nervously, his fingers moving over his knuckles. You noticed John staring at something from where you stood, brows furrowed, confusion writing on his face as he took in something in front of him. He turned back, staring at the confused Bob who was walking around, staring up at the ceiling. He grimaced and look back at the crate he was looking at. Touching it with his hand to feel it.

Then, from somewhere in the room, the blonde woman shouted, "I think I found it!"

John got off into a run, straight towards the blonde woman. You started to quickly walk over to her as well. She was leaning her head on the box, listening for the sound coming out of it. Ava then came running as well and yelled out, "move!"

She had something in her hand and ripped open the electrical box from where the sound was coming from. You quickly got behind them, Bob right next to you. The way he ran there, he nearly fell over.

"Alright, I think I can override this—" the blonde woman started, but she was quickly cut off by John pushing her away and swinging his shield straight into the box. He hit it twice and it shattered, electrical wires snapped and the noise coming out of it gone.

"Well, that works," blonde woman said, staring at the broken box. You all turned and John started ushering Ava to go. You all ran off towards the door. Ava quickly got her mask on and phased through the wall, leaving you four standing in front of the closed door. Twenty seconds left until you get all burned down alive. You were deeply hoping that she'd come back for you all and open the door. All four of you staring at the door, hoping for the best.

"You think she's coming back?" Bob asked out loud, staring at the door. He stepped a bit closer, standing right beside you and the other man. John gritted his teeth, shaking his head slightly in disappointment, "should've seen that coming..."

The panels above in the ceiling started to spread heat in the room even more. The insides starting to glow orange as the fire nearer its final blow. The door was still not opening. Beside you, the blonde woman closed her eyes, as if she was accepting her end. You turned your head back towards the door and then back to the person on your right, Bob. He looked down at you and gave you a very small sad smile. Five seconds to go, glowed the digital numbers on the wall beside you. Suddenly, a loud noise broke the silence. The door was starting to open. Your head snapped away from Bob and you were ready to jump through the opened space. All four of you started running, Bob with his hands over his head as if he did not want to get burned. Behind you, the panels finally blew their fire down, burning the whole room down. An explosion forming. Throwing all four of you out.

As you flew, your body hit the wall and you groaned loudly. Right at the shot shoulder, your hand instinctively grabbed at it. You laid for a moment until you saw a pair of boots coming towards you. It was Ava, she kneeled before you and offered you her hand, "come on."

You groaned and grabbed her hand, letting her pull you up to your feet, your other hand gripping your shoulder. It hurt like a crazy thing. Ava noticed your hand and the blood around it from the wound, "oh, jeez. That looks bad. She got you good."

"Thanks," you dryly chuckled, patting off dust from your clothing. She chuckled as well and walked away, right beside John, who was sitting on the ground. He started to say something to her, but she clearly ignored him and his waiting outstretched hand.

As you stood, you noticed Bob staring at the blonde girl, both of them sitting close next to each other after the explosion thew them both away. The blonde woman looked a bit disheveled and confused, so you came over towards the two.

"You two good?" you asked them as you finally stepped in front of them. Bob flinched when you spoke, clearly not expecting you to be standing there. You were indeed quiet. The blonde woman stared up at you and nodded a few times. You gave your hand towards her, letting her grab your hand and pull her up back on her feet. When she got up she swayed a bit and you quickly put your hands on her waist so she won't fall, "woah, woah. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay. Just hit the wall there," she pointed behind herself and smiled at you, "actually, I don't think I've told you my name. I'm Yelena."

You smiled at her, your hands still on her waist, "well, nice to meet you, Yelena."

"What about yours? Your name?" she asked you.

You finally let go off her waist and turned to the man on the floor who was watching you both. You held up your hand for him to take and he clasped it tightly, pulling himself up with your help with a small muttered thank you.

"My name? Eh, I don't really do names," you awkwardly smiled at the girl. She tilted her head in confusion, so you continued, "I'm an experiment child... So no name for me! Just numbers and then fake names for when I travelled," you grinned at her and she shook her head with a small sad smile.

"But how do your friends call you?" she asked you.

"As if I have some," you said with a shrug of your shoulders, "but fucking Valentina usually calls me Twenty-Two."

"A number?" Bob asked beside you.

"Yeah, when I get killed, I reappear where I was twenty-two minutes before," you say to him, which makes his eyes widen and eyebrows raise. He makes a small noise of amazement, which makes you smile up at the man.

"Do you really die or is it... just like some sort of a teleportation?" Yelena curiously asks you.

"I really do die. It's like, just sort of glitch for my soul and body. I don't know—Instead of staying dead, I'm just pulled back into life. My previous body disappears when I reappear though. I reappear twenty-two minutes right where I was before, but the time doesn't change. Nothing else rewinds... Just me," your smile slid off your face for a moment and you looked down at your hands and then back up at the two people in front of you.

"Do you feel it?" Bob's voice dropped as he asked you, "dying? Do you feel death?"

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, "yes. Every single time. I feel the shot, the fall, the drowning... I feel everything. I especially hate slow deaths," you chuckled sadly, "I just live with all my deaths, they're stuck with me and I'm stuck with them."

Yelena's brows furrowed deeply. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she took in your words. Bob shifted uncomfortably next to you and then he looked at you once more before he walked away. You looked at the blonde woman, who was staring at you. Your eyes met with hers, so you smiled at her.

"Come on," you smiled at her and stepped away, nodding your head towards where Ava stood leaning against a wall.

"Hey... You good?" you walked towards her, she was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, staring blankly in front of her.

Her gaze snapped upwards towards you, "sure I am... Someone cut the fucking power to the elevator! So, I am absolutely delighted to be stuck down there," she answered irritably as she stared at the man with the shield, who was standing near the elevator.

"Amazing," you ironically muttered, as well now looking at the man near the broken down elevator. You crossed your arms over your chest as well, leaning against the wall beside Ava.

In front of you was your supposed target, who you were supposed to kill at least twenty minutes before. He was looking at a broken down elevator with the shorter Russian blonde woman, Yelena, next to him. His posture was tense, jaw set and there was blood by his stomach from where you dipped your knife into his skin. Yelena was throwing her arms in the air, pointing at the elevator as well. Bob was farther off. Away from others. He was pacing around in the distance in the corner, muttering something under his nose. Words you couldn't make out.

And here you were. Trapped miles under the ground. With no way on how to get out. Lost somewhere in the desert of Utah, surrounded by four of the strangest people you have ever met.

hope you liked this! if yes, comments and feedback are really appreciated! <3

also i haven't mentioned anything about the sokovian language in the chapter before, so i will say it now—it's made up. i couldn't find an "actual" translator for the fictional language, so i just combined all slavic / balkan languages and their words together to make it feel more realistic like in the movies. the languages are similar and one of them is my native, so it was fun to write!

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kjupchurch-xx · 10 months ago

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Conflicting Feelings

Author's Note: Let me start this by saying I mean absolutely zero disrespect to Hugh's ex wife with this story. I'm just coming up with ideas for chapters and trying to be creative, so please do not hate me for the story. I got this inspiration from a song I'd been listening to, so once again, no disrespect meant for his previous marriage or his ex-wife. This story is pure fiction and just meant to satisfy your need for Hugh Jackman fluff.

Hugh and I have been friends for many years, despite our age gap of 20+ years. He was married to Debbora Furness and had been for the past 27 years. Our friendship was a platonic one, but we'd always had this strange chemistry. Hugh has been extremely loyal to Deb over the course of their marriage, despite his flirtatious nature. I'd love to tell you that I didn't have a thing for him, but I'd be lying to you. With that being said, I respect his marriage and I know my boundaries, which I'd never cross.

I was sitting in my hotel room in California, it was coming up on 7pm, the sun starting to slowly sink down producing a beautiful cotton candy sky that could be seen from my suite's balcony that overlooked the city. I was getting ready for a date with a musician, who shall remain unnamed. I heard my phone ring from across the room, walking over and picking it up, expecting it to be my date, I noticed it was Hugh.

"Hey Hugh, I can't-" I began but was immediately cut off by him sounding frantic, "I really need you right now." He said with a shaky, almost hoarse voice.

My voice grew concerned, "Is everything okay?"

"Just send me your room number and the name of the hotel. We'll talk there." He said quickly before hanging up.

What in the actual hell is going on? Did someone die? Is it cancer? I mean what is going on? A thousand thoughts raced through my mind as I quickly typed out my suite number and hotel into a text and sent it to him. Within minutes I heard a knock on my suite door. I ran up, opening the door to see a disheveled looking Hugh Jackman looking frantic. I quickly pulled him inside my room and he pulled me into a hug. I stood before him frozen in place, slowly wrapping my arms around him.

"What's going on? Are you okay? Are Oscar and Ava okay? Is Deb-" I began to hit him with rapid fire questions trying to understand what's causing this kind of emotion from the man I'd known to always be so happy, go lucky. He cut me off, "She's gone. Deb's gone." He said, his voice trembling.

I gasped in shock as my eyes widened, "What? What happened?" I asked, rubbing his back, leading him to the tan leather love seat that sat in the living room area of the suite. I'd never seen him this emotional outside of his acting.

As we sat on the sofa, he continued holding me as if I were his security blanket. I repeated, "What happened?" causing him to look up at me with broken eyes.

He covered his face, "She told me she wanted a divorce. She's moving her stuff out of the house and wants to be gone before I get back." I bit my bottom lip in disbelief, "Did she say why?" I asked trying to process what I was being told.

He took a shaky breath before looking at me, "She says we've fallen out of love and are two different people now that 27 years have gone by. She says we want two entirely different things out of life."

I shrugged, placing my hand on his knee. "Is she wrong?" I asked softly, looking at him, continuing to tremble with each word he spoke.

He sighed, running his hand through his messy hair, "She's not wrong."

I blinked, looking at him, taken back by his response, "What do you mean she's not wrong? What did you do?"

He took a deep breath and began looking down, refusing to look me in the eyes and began shaking his head. I grabbed his hand, caressing it softly, "What happened, babe? You know I won't judge you. You know after years of confiding in me that you can tell me anything."

He nodded, wiping a tear from his eyes, still shaking his head as if he were trying to process his own thoughts. He was being extremely cautious with his words. The sound of my phone ringing caused me to almost jump out of my skin. It had to be the guy I was supposed to be meeting tonight. I quickly grabbed my phone, silencing the call and put my attention back on the man that was sitting in front of me.

He finally looked up at me, "Being married for as long as we were is hard work after awhile, especially when your world stops due to a pandemic and you're forced to actually face the problems in your marriage instead of being away for weeks or months at a time and being able to avoid them." I nodded, allowing him to continue, watching nervously grit his teeth, "I fucked up. I let my emotions get the best of me and instead of envisioning her, I began envisioning someone else. I knew it was wrong, so I stopped and began focusing all of my attention on Deb."

I looked at him, "Okay, well I mean...That happens. You didn't physically do anything, did you?" I asked, furrowing my brows.

He shook his head, "No, I didn't. But she knew something was up with me. And now, I can't keep running from it. Deb is a great person, she truly is. But this other person, it's like whenever I'm with them, life suddenly just...makes sense again." He said lowly while staring off into space as if actually saying the words caused him too much pain to admit.

My phone began ringing again, I quickly grabbed it and answered, "Hey, look I'm sorry. I just had an emergency come up and I'm not going to be able to make it. I hope you understand." I said quickly, Hugh gave me a questioning look, and I knew he was curious as to who I was speaking to or who I had plans with.

My date was disappointed to say the least, but he understood, so I took that as a chance to end the call. Hugh looked at me, "I shouldn't be here bothering you with this. Go on with your plans." He sniffled, wiping his face with his head and standing up.

I grabbed his hand, rolling my eyes, pulling him back down on the sofa, "No, it's okay. So things make more sense when you're with this person?" I asked, he looked at me nodding, but not speaking. "Does she feel the same way?" I asked.

He shrugged, refusing to keep eye contact with me again, "I don't know if she does or doesn't. But I've been in a marriage that's lacked intimacy and has been more of a friendship arrangement for the past two years. This was not something I planned. I would never cheat on Deb, I just couldn't handle the charade anymore and I'm guessing she felt the same way."

I wasn't exactly sure what to say anymore as I gazed at him allowing him to continue venting, "I just know that whenever I'm with this person, we can be in a room full of people and it's like they're not there. She makes me feel things that I haven't felt in the longest fucking time."

I threw my hands up, "Go tell her then. If that's how you feel for this person, go talk to her. Hugh, you are an amazing man. What happened is unfortunate but people grow apart sometimes and there's nothing that can be done about it. You need to go tell this person how you feel." I said softly, giving him a small smile. "So who is it anyways? Is it the girl you're on broad way with? The one the rumor was about? Wasn't her name Sarah or something?"

"Are you referring to Sutton?" He asked, looking at his hands.

I nodded, "Yeah, that's her name. Sutton. Is it her?"

He sat silent for a good two minutes, staring at his hands. There had been articles going around for months about him and his Music Man co-star, Sutton Foster having an affair. I honestly wouldn't be surprised at this point. I knew the effect the pandemic had on his marriage. He tells me literally everything and I've always been there as an ear or eyes for his texts regarding the issues he and Deb dealt with.

After two minutes of complete silence, he spoke, looking at me, "I have something to tell you."

I looked up at him with soft eyes, his hazel ones piercing through my soul, "It's Sutton, isn't it?" I asked knowingly.

He slowly shook his head, "It's not Sutton and no, I didn't have an affair with Sutton." He simply said.

I chuckled, "Okay, so who is it? It's not Zendaya, is it?" I asked, cringing at the thought of he and Zendaya together. Nothing against Zen, we're friends. But she also knows about the crush I have on my dear friend.

He looked at cringing himself, "What? No. She's like a daughter to me." He said with a chuckle, "It's you." He said lowly.

I took a deep breath, "It's me?"

He looked down at the floor again, "Yeah." He was being short, as if he himself were in disbelief.

I furrowed my brows, "Why?" I asked, shaking my head in disbelief of what I was hearing.

His voice began trembling again as he reached for my hand, interlocking it with his own, "Do you remember when my father died?" He asked, I nodded, "I rang you, and you jumped on a plane to come see me. You spent days going over my lines for The Son with me. That was when I realized it. I rang Deb first. All she could say was that she was sorry. But you, you booked a flight and flew across the world for me. I was in hysterics and you comforted me each time." I took another breath, remembering what had taken place when Hugh's dad passed away on Australia's Father's Day in 2021.

"I swear to you, I tried. When I got back home, I tried to make those thoughts go away. That's why I distanced myself from you that following year. No matter what I did, no matter what she did, all I could see was you." He spoke honestly, tilting his head slightly, a hitch in his breathing as he continued to look at me, begging me to say anything.

"I fell in love with you, but I didn't want you to know. I didn't want Deb to know. I didn't want anyone to know, so I tried my fucking bloody damnest to push it out of my head and it only made it more apparent. And I don't know if you feel the same w-" I couldn't take hearing him speak anymore, overwhelmed with emotion, I tightened the grip he had on my hand with my own and sent my lips crashing against his stopping him in his tracks.

He brought his other hand up, grabbing my chin softly as his brain registered what was happening and began slowly moving his lips against mine. Pulling away, but pressing my forehead against his, as we both kept our eyes shut, I spoke, "I love you." barely above a whisper. I slowly opened my eyes to see his eyes staring into my own, our foreheads still pressed together, "But I didn't want this to happen like this."

I sighed, pulling away, "I don't want to be the reason your marriage ends. I'm not a home wrecker. I've loved you for years, why do you think I flew across the country when your father died and you called me hysterical? But I respect you, I respect Deb and I respect your marriage."

He looked at me, "My marriage ended two years ago. You're not a homewrecker and you did not cause this. Deb and I knew this was coming since the shut down over COVID. We didn't want to divorce for the sake of our children. We've just both gotten to the point where we want different things out of life and have decided for the sake of our happiness to end things. I'm heartbroken because I genuinely do love her as a person, and I did not want things to go the way they have. But her and I have to find our own happiness and we've realized it wasn't with each other anymore."

He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, "It's you. For the last two years, it's been you and you didn't even know it. You did nothing wrong, love."

I sat in silence. I'd worked so hard over the years to keep my feelings to myself and to never cross a boundary. But whenever he called me in tears over his father, I couldn't help myself but to want to be there for support. He needed it and was falling apart at the seams. I don't know why Deb didn't rush to his side. I don't know why all she could say was "Sorry, I'll see you when you get back to New York.".

His eyes began pleading with me, as he slid off the sofa and onto the floor on his knees in front of me, still holding my hand, now grabbing my other one, "Please say something. Please."

I swallowed the hard lump in my throat, exhaling the deep breath I had been holding, "Just hold me..." was all I could manage to say.

He nodded, quickly sliding back to his position on the sofa, pulling my body into his chest, "Yeah?...I can do that." The feeling of his arms tightening around me as I sank my head into his chest.

Where do we go from here?

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astraljedi · 3 months ago

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No one's ever had me, not like you (Joaquin Torres)

This wasn't requested but I just had to write something about these two again. It's mundane, cute and smutty.

Part 1 here

Warnings: Contains spoilers from Captain America: Brave New World, SMUT, 18+ only

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Female OC

Word Count: 3,561

Song: So High School by Taylor Swift

A/N: I will always include a Taylor Swift song for every single thing I write 🤪 -

Why does moving have to be so stressful?

I brush back a few stray hairs, already done styling it for the day. The bathroom counter is a disaster—mine and Joaquin’s everyday essentials scattered everywhere. Somewhere in the mess is my makeup bag.

“I hate moving,” I mutter to myself, stepping out of the bathroom to check the bedroom.

The whole apartment is in shambles—more opened boxes than packed ones, clothes draped over furniture, and random belongings scattered across the floor. Ever since Joaquin got the all-clear from his doctor after the accident, we’ve been trying to pack as much as possible. The fixer-upper is nearly done, and moving day is a week away. But between my long hours at work and him easing back into his routine, packing has been slow.

I spot my floral makeup bag on the floor next to the dresser and grab it before heading back to the bathroom. Our mornings have looked the same for the past month—Joaquin wakes up early for his run, I make him breakfast, and then I get ready for work. By the time I’m almost dressed, he’s back with my first coffee of the day.

“Baby, ya llegu��,” Joaquin calls from the front door. I hear him moving around the kitchen before the familiar sound of footsteps on the stairs. A few moments later, he appears with two coffees in hand.

I close my mascara tube and press a quick kiss to his lips before taking my cup.

“How was your run?” I ask, savoring the warmth between my hands as I lean against the counter.

Joaquin leans against the doorframe, cradling his own coffee. “It was good. You should come with me sometime.”

I snort. “Sorry, baby, but if there’s one thing you will always fail at, it’s convincing me to run for fun. I only run when I have to.”

Joaquin huffs a dramatic sigh, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “You know what I never fail at?” He pauses just long enough for me to raise a curious brow before smirking. “Pleasing you.”

I let out a sharp laugh, shaking my head. “Wow. That was smooth.”

He grins and steps closer, pressing a teasing kiss to my neck. “It’s also true.”

I press a hand to his chest, pushing him back playfully. “Go take a shower before you get too cocky.”

Joaquin chuckles but obeys, leaving me to roll my eyes and finish getting ready with a smile on my lips.

Before I leave the bathroom, I attempt to organize the counter, but it’s useless. I walk out and head downstairs to prep my work bag while Joaquin showers. “Babe, have you seen my binder?” I call out once I hear the water shut off.

“I don’t think so,” he responds.

I search the cluttered dining table and the living room, but the green binder is nowhere to be found. Joaquin comes down the stairs, hair still damp, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Did you find it?” he asks.

“No, but I know I brought it up from the car last night.” I sigh, scanning the room again. “We really need to tackle this mess. I’ll try to leave work early today.”

Joaquin smirks. “When I asked you to move in two years ago, I didn’t realize you came as a package deal with decorative pillows and an insane amount of mugs.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

“Found your binder.” He steps out of the kitchen, holding it up with a smug grin. “It was under the box labeled ‘mugs.’”

I reach for it, but he pulls it behind his back. “Joaquin, I’m going to be late. Please.”

“Kiss me, and I’ll let you have it.” He puckers his lips.

I roll my eyes but step closer anyway. It’s criminal that he’s standing here in just a towel, and I have to leave for work. Pressing against him, I slide my hands around his neck and kiss him. Joaquin instantly melts into it, parting his lips to welcome me in.

I tug on his hair, teasing, and he groans.

My hand trails down his biceps, squeezing as I move lower. I let my fingers skim over the edge of the towel at his hips. The binder hits the floor beside us, long forgotten. Joaquin lets out a low moan as I undo the towel and wrap my fingers around him, stroking slowly.

His grip tightens on my waist, pulling me closer.

Just when he’s fully lost in it, I pull back with a smirk, grab the binder, and press a playful kiss to his hip. “Have fun without me,” I tease, giggling as I step back to grab my bag.

Joaquin lets out a dramatic groan, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to get you back for this.” He reaches for the towel, trying to cover himself, but the smile on his face betrays him.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “But you’re evil.”

I shoot him a wink before heading out the door.

At work, the pace of the day drags a little too slowly for my liking. Flight training is always something I look forward to; being in the air and handing the other pilots their asses is always fun. Something that’s not fun? All the paperwork that has to be done before leaving the base.

I manage to leave my office at 6 p.m., which is better than yesterday when I left at 8:30 p.m. After I pack my bag, I turn off all the lights and lock my door behind me. I say my goodbyes quickly and make my way to my car before anyone can stop me with more paperwork that can wait until tomorrow.

All I want is to get home to my boyfriend, have a glass of wine, and try to pack the apartment. Maybe Joaquin was right—I do have a lot of mugs, but at the new house, we have plenty of storage for them.

When Joaquin got into his accident, we ended up hiring a contractor to help with the house since he was going to be unable to help me with our DIYs. It was expensive, but at least it’s done.

I arrive at the apartment and unlock the door. “I’m home! I know I said I was going to be home early, but it’s only six-thirty. We can still tackle the boxes,” I call out, turning on the lights to the darkened apartment. When the living room lights up, I’m left in shock. The whole living room—no, the whole first floor—is clean, and the boxes are taped off.

I drop my things on the floor as Joaquin walks down the stairs, a wide smile on his lips. “Surprise.”

“H-how?” I stutter, in awe and shock that he managed to do this in twelve hours. “B-baby…”

“You took care of me for months, took time from work to stay by my side and support me through it all,” he begins. He grabs my hands into his and walks me toward the stairs. “It’s my turn to take care of you. It’s my time to show you how much I love you.”

I can’t even form words to say; I just stare at him, teary-eyed, as he pulls me into our also-cleared room. “Take a shower, and when you’re done, we’re going to get your favorite takeout, and then I have another surprise.”

“Thank you,” I manage to say. He presses a gentle kiss on my lips and leaves me to take a calming shower. It feels like a heavy weight just lifted from my shoulders the moment I saw everything packed.

Once I’m clean and wearing my comfy clothes, Joaquin locks the front door of our apartment and opens the car door for me, like he usually does. “I called ahead and ordered from your favorite Italian place; I just have to get it, and we can eat once we get to your surprise.”

“What are you planning, baby?” I say, my hands resting on the back of his neck, twirling his hair while his hand rests on my thigh.

“All I’m planning is showing you how much I love you.”

The food pickup only takes a few minutes, but Joaquin doesn’t let me get it. He goes, and soon enough, he’s walking back with two full takeout bags. I admire him as he drives, my fingers finding their way to the back of his neck again. His hair has grown in, the curls I love so much finally making an appearance.

“I love it when you let your hair grow like this,” I admit, twirling a soft curl around my finger.

“I know,” he smirks. “You love pulling it, too.”

I roll my eyes, but before I can fire back, I realize we’re already parked—right in front of our house. Our house. The words still feel surreal.

Joaquin is out of the car in an instant, rounding the hood before I can even reach for the handle. He opens my door and grabs my hand, helping me out. His touch lingers, thumb brushing along my wrist before he lets go to grab the takeout bags.

“Come on, I have something to show you,” he says, dropping the food on the kitchen counter before lacing our fingers together.

“Another surprise?” I giggle as he tugs me down the hallway.

We pass the half bath, then my office—except the door is shut. Joaquin steps behind me, covering my eyes with one hand as he pushes the door open with the other.

I let him guide me in, my pulse picking up in anticipation.

He drops his hand. My eyes adjust to the sudden clarity before settling on the stunning built-in bookshelves mounted along the back wall. My desk is already in place, centered perfectly in front of the shelves.

I gasp, too stunned to move.

“I know you wanted your own built-in library,” Joaquin murmurs, pressing against my back. His arms wrap around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. “Javier and I started on it right after the paint dried.”

My heart clenches, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness.

“I also laid out some blankets,” he adds, turning me slightly toward the floor. A nest of blankets, pillows, and battery-powered candles fills the space, glowing softly in the dim room.

“Ay, perdón. You give me my dream library, and all I noticed were the shelves,” I tease, turning in his arms to press a lingering kiss to his lips.

I slip from his grasp, fingertips tracing the smooth wood. “You know, some people just get a gift card. You decided to build me an entire library.”

Joaquin steps closer, sliding his hands around my waist. His voice is low, rough with intent.

“You deserve this and more.”

His hands slip beneath my shirt, calloused fingers dragging over my skin. I shiver at the contrast, my body already aching for him.

“What you did this morning?” he murmurs, lips brushing my throat. “Pure evil.”

A whimper escapes me as his hands drift lower, gripping the waistband of my sweatpants before sliding them down.

“But I forgive you.”

He sinks to his knees, pulling my underwear down with slow movements. “We have to check the quality of these shelves,” he muses, pressing a soft kiss to my inner thigh. “Make sure they can hold all your romance books.”

His fingers squeeze my hips as he lifts one of my legs over his shoulder. “Hold tight, baby.”

Before I can grasp the shelf, his mouth is on me, and I moan loudly. Not a care that our new neighbors might hear from the echoes in the barely furnished house.

Joaquin doesn’t waste any time. His tongue moves against me, teasingly slow. My eyes shift down, and I meet his dark chocolate gaze staring back at me. Savoring every reaction he pulls from me. My fingers grip the edge of the shelf, my knee threatening to buckle as his tongue works wonders, need simmering in his eyes.

“Baby,” I gasp, my free hand burying itself in his curls, tugging just the way I know he likes.

He groans against me, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure up my spine. His grip on my thighs tightens, holding me in place as he devours me like he’s been starving for this—starving for me.

“Tell me what you need. I need your words, baby.”

“I need you, please, Joaquin.” I’m already close, my body coiling, every nerve alive with need.

And then he stops.

A desperate whimper escapes me as he pulls back, lips glistening, eyes dark with heat. “Not yet,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth along my inner thigh, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. “I want to take my time with you.”

“Joaquin, please,” I breathe, but he just smirks, hands sliding up my sides as he stands.

I barely get a chance to catch my breath before his lips crash into mine, hot and hungry. The taste of myself on his tongue only makes me needier. I release my hold on the shelf, my hand roaming down to his pants. I need them off—now.

Joaquin bites my lower lip and smacks my hand off his cock. With little effort, he spins me around and pins me against the shelves, holding my arms behind my back. “So desperate for me, huh?” he murmurs before nibbling on the sensitive spot on my neck.

“Please, baby.” I whine, my cunt already dripping. I press my ass to his groin, grinding on him, trying to get some friction. I think I have him, feeling his grip loosen on my hands, but he spins me around to face him and places me on my brand new desk.

“I thought we might break in the new desk.” He smirks, pulling my sweatshirt over my head and laying me gently on the cold wood. “Touch yourself.” His voice is a low, but demanding growl.

I watch, breath hitching, as he pulls down his pants, his hard cock springing free. He strokes himself, spreading the precum as I lower my hand to my own heat. My fingers circle my clit a few times before sliding two fingers into my cunt. I gasp, pumping in and out, stretching myself out.

“Good girl,” Joaquin praises. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes.” I moan, running my free hand over my hardened nipple before bringing it back down to circle my clit. My hips move in sync with my hands as the familiar coil builds up. I squirm on the desk, my eyes falling shut close off the edge of pleasure.

“I can’t let you have all the fun.” Joaquin grabs my wrist, stopping me. I cry out, my body thrumming with frustration, and he brings my fingers to his mouth, sucking hard on my juices. The warmth of his tongue against my skin draws a deep moan from me before he lets them go with a pop.

He grabs my ankles and pulls me down so my ass rests on the edge of the desk. His torturing touch soothes the skin of my inner thigh, skipping my heat and landing on my waist, holding me in place.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing kisses down my chest, lingering at the swell of my breasts before he takes one into his mouth.

I arch into him, fingers clawing at his back, desperate to feel more of him.

He groans as I push at his shirt, and in one quick motion, he pulls it off, tossing it aside before settling between my legs. His skin is hot against mine, every shift of his body making me dizzy with want.

“Baby,” I pant, nails digging into his shoulders as he rolls his hips against mine, teasing, torturing. “Please stop teasing.”

He grins, breathless. “Impatient, baby?”

“Ya cállate,” I mutter, pulling him down into another kiss.

He chuckles against my lips but doesn’t push me further. Instead, he reaches down, lining himself up with me. His forehead presses against mine, his breath heavy, and then he’s pushing into me, slow and deep, every worry and thought gone from my head.

A sharp gasp escapes me as I cling to him, every inch of me stretching to take him in. Joaquin stills, his lips ghosting over mine as if grounding himself. “God, you feel perfect,” he groans.

I barely have a second to adjust before he moves, slow at first, dragging out every sensation until I’m trembling beneath him.

The desk creaks with every thrust under us. Needing something to anchor myself to, I grip his shoulders tighter.

Joaquin chuckles. “Guess it’s sturdy,” he murmurs, his voice strained but with a teasing edge.

I laugh breathlessly, but it quickly dissolves into a moan as he thrusts deeper, his pace picking up, his name slipping past my lips.

It’s dizzying, overwhelming in the best way, and when his hand slips between us, fingers finding that sensitive spot, it’s enough to send me spiraling.

I cry out, my body tightening around him as pleasure crashes over me in waves. Joaquin isn’t far behind, his movements growing erratic before he groans, burying his face in my neck as he comes undone.

For a moment, all I can hear is our heavy breathing, the faint flicker of the battery-powered candles casting soft shadows around the room.

Joaquin presses a lazy kiss to my collarbone, then my jaw, then the corner of my lips. “So,” he murmurs, grinning. “Building quality approved?”

I laugh, still breathless, still dazed. “Yeah,” I manage. “Twelve out of ten.”

He hums, picking me up from the desk. He walks toward the blankets and lays me down on a pillow. “Good. We can test the kitchen counters later, just to make sure they installed them correctly.”

I smack his arm playfully, but my smile betrays me. “You’re ridiculous.”

He kisses my forehead before pulling away to fetch his boxers. “Dinner might be cold, though.”

“I don’t care, just bring it up. I’m starving.”

Joaquin disappears for a moment, and I expect him to come back with just our dinner, but instead, he returns with a warm washcloth in one hand and the to-go bags in the other. He kneels between my legs, the teasing smirk from earlier replaced with something softer, something quieter.

We both stay silent as he cleans me up, his touch impossibly gentle. My heart aches in the best way, love and appreciation swelling in my chest.

I watch him, warmth creeping up my neck, and when his eyes meet mine again, the words slip out before I can stop them. “I love you.”

His gaze softens even more. “I love you.” He presses a kiss to my temple before settling in beside me, pulling the extra blanket over us. He closes the space between us, legs tangling with mine as he grabs the takeout bags. “I don’t think they’re that cold.”

I snort, taking the container he hands me. “I told you I didn’t care if it was cold.”

“You say that now, but the second you put that sad, cold carbonara in your mouth, you’re gonna blame me for ruining your favorite dish.”

I roll my eyes but take a bite anyway, and okay, maybe he’s right. Cold carbonara isn’t amazing, but I don’t care.

For a while, we eat in comfortable silence. But the thought that’s been lingering in the back of my mind refuses to stay quiet. I set my fork down, debating if this is the right moment. I don’t want to ruin the night, but I also can’t keep spiraling over it.

“I don’t think I’m re-enlisting when my contract is up.”

Joaquin stills, his fork halfway to his mouth. His brows lift slightly, but he doesn’t look surprised—just waiting, listening.

“You’re serious?”

I nod, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, but…I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like my future anymore.” I glance down, tracing a seam in the blanket. “I want to open a romance bookstore.”

Joaquin doesn’t say anything right away. He just watches me, studying me in that way he does when he’s working through something in his head. Then, slowly, a small smile tugs at his lips.

“A romance bookstore?”

I look down at my food, suddenly feeling shy. “Yeah. I’ve been looking into it. I have some savings that could be enough.” I shrug, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I love flying, and it’ll always be a part of me. But…I want to settle down. I want to enjoy our home, be with you, and build something that’s mine.”

Joaquin sets his food aside and shifts closer, his warm hand covering mine. “That’s what you want?” His voice is steady, but there’s something else in his eyes—concern, maybe. Not doubt, just worry.

I nod again. “Yeah. I know it sounds crazy, leaving the force to open a bookstore. But I think I can do it.”

Joaquin’s thumb brushes over my knuckles, slow and thoughtful. “It doesn’t sound crazy,” he murmurs. “It sounds like you.”

I blink up at him, my chest tightening.

He squeezes my hand. “And I think you can do it, too.”

#joaquin torres imagines #joaquin torres smut #joaquin torres fanfic #joaquin torres fic #joaquin torres x female #joaquin torres x female oc #Marvel Imagines #Marvel Smut #marvel mcu #danny ramirez imagines #Danny Ramirez fanfic #Danny Ramirez smut #captain america: brave new world #the falcon #the falcon imagines #The Falcon Fanfic

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eccentricallygothic · 1 year ago

Note

Hey sweetheart 😘 I really hope requests are opened and you don't mind me sending in a request 🤗

I thought of something where you and Bucky are close friends with huge feelings for each other but you're both too stubborn to admit. So one time you're having movie night at the compound and you take your spot besides Bucky, enjoying the closeness. As some intimate scene appears, you feel Bucky all tense up and excusing him, so you later find him in his room wondering what's wrong, and finally he admits that he got nasty thoughts about you doing all that to him so he had to leave. You think about his words and before he can back out, you push him on the bed, straddling him, riding him, giving you both the pleasure you held back for too long. Afterwards he's a huge cuddle bear and asks you to be his girl ? 🤗 Hope that's okay with you 🫶🏼

Hello! And yes, requests are open and you certainly can send them in! Yours is definitely okay with me and maybe a bit too okay because it made me stray from my usual hc form 😵‍💫 I really, really hope you like it. Thank you for requesting! Happy reading 🩷

| Clueless |

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes | Avenger!Reader.

Warning(s): Kissing, unprotected p-in-v sex, cowgirl, nipple play, thumb sucking, Bucky's vibranium arm because I am a mental slut, Bucky mildly being the old man that he is, size kink, dirty talk, creampie, fluff. Minors do not interact.

"Bucky?" You call after softly knocking on his door before opening it. Your eyebrows furrow when you don't get a response and so you peek inside to scan the room.

You're about to turn on your heels and go look someplace else when you notice him on the balcony, back turned to you as he leans on the railing, a bottle in hand.

"Hey," he doesn't turn his head to look at you when you approach him. The super soldier probably already heard you when you were down the hall. "What happened? You didn't come back." You lean one arm against the balcony confine on the spot besides him, leaning your head to the side and watching him as he takes another swig.

Bucky takes his time swallowing, his heavy Adam's apple bobbing as he keeps his eyes trained on the grounds of the compound. His broad shoulders shrug only when he has gathered his thoughts a bit, legs shifting before he answers. "Just because." Your features scrunch in confusion.

What?

"Just because… what?" You voice your confusion and he sighs at your cluelessness. When he just shakes his head to himself you roll your eyes with a huff. "What, talk to me! What even happened?" The way he turns to his other side and his vibranium arm barricades you away from him pisses you off as you stomp to the other side.

Bucky has confusing moments like this sometimes that he eventually gets over but never provides you any explanation for them.

"Bucky, I can only know if you tell me…" You try though you know it'll be in vain, as usual. "What the hell happened? We were watching a movie and then you said you'd be a second and then half an hour later I realize you're not back and then I find you sipping beer in your room all by yourself like we weren't having movie night!"

The male sighs and shakes his head again before lowering it and turning once more. "Just so clueless…" When you go to speak again, he spins a 180° and walks back into his room. "But what else can I expect from this generation?" That makes you scoff as you tail him like a vulture, hot on his heels.

"What the hell does that even mean–"

"Language!"

"Oh, my God!" You throw your hands up in frustration. "What has gotten into you lately?! You're becoming more and more like Steve by the passing day!" The mention of the male shifts something in his expression and he half turns his head to look at you with an unreadable expression on his face. "And that means annoying!" The addition seems to ease the tension in his huge shoulders.

Just a bit.

Something has been going on with him and he refuses to share it with you even though you are the closest with each other out of the entire team.

"You seriously don't know what was wrong? Are you really so clueless?" You rake your memories to recall what he is on about since the movie was quite innocent in that sense except…

Oh.

You roll your eyes as you cross your arms over your chest. "Well, I am sorry not all of us are conservatives from the '40s, gramps" now it is Bucky's turn to scoff.

"Oh, really?" When you hum and nod with just as much agitation his frustration gets the best of him. "You know what a conservative from the '40s would really do?"

"Yeah, no. Do enlighten me please!" You know he doesn't appreciate it when you get too sassy with him but what is he going to do about it?

You are a girl with a mind of your own and no one is going to tell you or give you any shit.

"He would ask the potential lady love out on a nice dinner instead of hanging out with her right in the beginning!" Your eyebrows furrow as he sarcastically emphasizes the words. "I mean, what even is that supposed to be?! It doesn't make any sense!" Bucky clicks his tongue in disdain as one of his hands move in the air to help express his frustration. "There is an order, a code, a way to do these things! Fancy is not supposed to be treated so casually! You kids have ruined the sanctity of the whole idea!"

"What even are you on about, Bucky?!" You go on cluelessly. "This is absurd! So what, friends can't watch movies together now?! I am sorry that things are less complicated now?!"

"They're not less complicated!" He is beyond annoyed and you can tell. "Not by a long shot! If anything, it's worse! Because now I have to deal with watching a provocative scene while the girl I like is cuddling into me but I can't do anything because we are just friends having a casual hangout and I can't do anything about my hard cock that wants nothing more than to show her that the scene that has her gripping my arm so tight is nothing in comparison to what I can do to her if she just stops being so fucking clueless!"

Bucky's teal blue eyes are wide and he is nearly breathless by the time he finishes his little speech. Your own state is not much different as you blink up at him in shock. It is only when he has recovered a little that he realizes what he has said… or rather, confessed.

"I-" the super soldier goes to shake his head but then stops before half tilting it to the side, visibly at a loss of words as his ears turn beet red. "Y/n–"

Your fingers are curling around the neckline of his shirt before you know it, the pull of your hand tugging you towards him instead of doing what you had intended, his heavy body unbudging.

Bucky's arms hang limply at his sides as he stands against you utterly dumbfounded, barely kissing you back if at all as he tries to decide whether this is another one of his dreams or you, the only girl that has managed to reach into his heart after so long that it honestly feels kind of like the first time, really is kissing him.

What he doesn't know is that you are having difficulty with determining the same thing.

You pull back when your lungs are on fire and you are heaving for air desperately, fingers still tightly holding onto his shirt in bunches with the fear that he might vanish into the air if you let go.

Bucky blinks as he sputters out some incoherent nonsense, eyes wide as he watches your face to try and grasp what just happened. "I–"

You shake your head with a roll of your eyes and a tut. He's insufferable with all that chivalry. You do find it endearing at times but it's moments like these when he's so clueless and formal about it that it gets annoying.

"Just shut up and kiss me, old man" you whisper as your eyes flicker down to his pink lips and you're on him again.

This time though, your words seem to have snapped him out of it and his hands shoot up to your sides as he holds you back just as tightly, fingers reaching down for your ass cheeks before he squeezes them hard. You are forced to break the kiss, your face still remaining against his lips as you audibly shudder at the feeling, shivers shooting down your hips and straight to your intimate parts from the delicious ache that it causes.

Within the next few minutes, you have managed to back Bucky into the bed as he's distracted with touching, feeling and groping as much of you as he possibly can. He lands on the bed with a heavy thud but before any words can be exchanged, you are straddling his thick and muscular thighs.

Your hands hurriedly snatch his shirt off before you push him down, raising your own arms above your head to let him do the same as you grind into his hard on that feels so thick that some tiny part of your brain cannot help but fear for your pussy.

"Mmm, solnyshko, you're so fucking pretty" Bucky rasps out the nickname he gave you when you both realized you had reached that stage in your friendship. But now, with his very recent confession fresh in your mind, you see the meaning of the word, 'little sun', that he had told you with an air of awkwardness in a very different light.

"Look at all this pretty fucking body, solnyshko. I could cum just by looking at it alone." Emotion overcomes your senses and you suddenly feel a bit sensitive. A whimper escapes you as a result and you can't help but clench against his bulge, hands reaching to squeeze his hands that are feeling up your boobs now that he has fished them out of the bra cups.

"B- Bucky…" He seems to have sensed it already, and so one of his hands trail down to your side to caress it encouragingly.

"Go ahead, baby" the endearment is just as foreign for you as it is for him. "You're doing so good, keep going for me" you feel a twitch below you and you can't help but parrot the curse that slithers from his lips.

Though you are on top, Bucky still seems to have the upper hand as he always does. But you have never really minded that with him because he isn't nasty about it and you know he only means well. You have learnt that through various outcomes many times. Besides, not that you'd ever admit it but you do need the extra care and guidance sometimes.

It is tough to play the all-knowing hero all the time.

Bucky is your sanctuary to deconstruct and just be yourself after a long day.

You hope you are the same for him as well.

With newfound confidence that you have his praise to thank for, you whine as your hips start to circle and twist against his stuff bulge, your clothed pussy already pleased because of how needy and desperate it really is.

Your back arches as you moan out loud when his fingers go to circle around one of your nipples, twisting it between them before his fingernails dig in them while his vibranium hand finds your mouth. "Bucky!" Your face is flushed and cheeks hot as you feel his thumb graze the shape of your lips before pushing inside them. "Mmmm~" your brows furrow when you feel yourself leak some more before clenching around the air again.

Okay.

Grinding isn't gonna cut it.

You need him inside you.

You have waited for way too long to rub it out.

He just has to be all over you… and that includes all the openings to your insides.

Your lips tightly wrap around his thumb as you suck so hard that the sound of it resonates in the air, pulling a sharp string of whispered curses from Bucky. Letting go of his arms you now claws at his belt until it gives way to your ferocity and you nearly tug the fly off the fabric.

You whine louder than you would ever like to admit when he goes to tug your shorts off and you have to shift away from where you are grinding against him, the rude protective growl you end up letting out causing him to chuckle as he pulls the shorts off your legs with a soft spank to your ass; a signal for you to improve your crazed behavior.

Bucky has a way of keeping you in your place.

"Tsk, solnyshko, patience!" His playful words fall on deaf ears as you literally jump back up on his cock, planting two stubborn hands against his shoulders before pushing him down flat against the mattress from his half risen position.

Your single-mindedness once you zero in on something is a joke amongst the team. And though you deny it with every fiber of your existence, your actions and manic possessiveness over his cock right now is not helping your case.

"Mine" you whisper as you move back to now rub against him skin to skin, your fingertips tracing over the bumps of his body as your usually bright eyes watch him with a dark hue over them. A hiss leaves Bucky when your warm and soaking pussy drags against his member, causing for his hands to bolt to your ass as he squeezes with all his might to withstand the sensory overload. It is to avoid flipping you over to fuck you into oblivion.

Because that can come later. Right now is your first time with him and he prefers for you to take things at your pace; ease into whatever this will become.

"Just like that, solnyshko, good girl" the words cause you to whimper as you raise yourself by propping your body up against your heels, wrapping one hand around his intimidating girth before you slowly pump and spread both your precums along its destructive length.

Your bottom lip juts out a little at his scary size and you can't help but look up at him with a whimper. It is so easy because he is your safe place and understands every single one of your quirks with no words exchanged.

Everything makes sense with Bucky.

"It's okay, baby. You can take it, I know you can" he reassures you as he caresses your thighs comfortingly. "Go ahead, I'll take care of you if I have to" you nod gratefully, your usually smart mouth mum. Though when you look down at his rather monstrous cock again, you have to gulp to yourself as you arch your back before moving the thick tip against your entrance, the sensation causing you to hiss almost instantly.

"Hnnng, Bucky!" You feel yourself stretch and widen around his smooth skin, but then you slide down further and the shape of his thick bulging veins grazes against your trembling walls and your thighs quiver, causing your knees to shake. "Oh!" The most vile moan you have ever let out rings in the air as you reach for his shoulders sensitively, wincing and lowering your head against his to let him kiss you everywhere he can reach while your hips lower against his.

"Fuck, solnyshko, you're so fucking tight for me" his hands fondle your ass and breasts rather bluntly as he peppers kisses all over your face, moving his own hips in sync to yours to help you out because you are clearly struggling with accommodating and handling him. "Good girl" his lips capture yours in a clingy kiss, your mouths nearly sticking to each other's. You break away for enough time for Bucky to let out, "such a good fucking girl for me, baby" before you sink down on his cock again and bite his bottom lip as a result, loudly whining into his mouth.

The super soldier curses as he twitches inside you, his tip easily reaching the sensitive bundle of nerves that ks hot and eager to be touched. "Fuck, you're so biiiig!" You mewl as your eyes roll to the back of your head, fingers clasping around his shoulders as you find a rhythm and start bouncing, the aid of his hips causing a loud smacking sound to fill the otherwise quiet air.

You feel your loins tense each time his stiff veins graze your weeping pussy that desperately tries to return to its original state whenever he lifts you almost all the way up and off his cock only to have you sheath it back again from the tip.

You are trying your best to keep the control to yourself but the truth is, were it not for Bucky's guiding hold on your hips, you would have collapsed from the sensitivity of your core and the size of his impaler long ago.

"Look at you, solnyshko" the male cooes while panting but doesn't break off the sync of your bodies, one hand now dipping between your legs to let his vibranium thumb rub your clit. The action causes your limbs to spasm as you moan loudly, your back arching while your pussy clenches again. "Lookin' so pretty bouncing on my cock. Almost as if that's all you were made to do" his words make you grunt as you dig your nails into his skin.

Fuck, he is too good.

Not so chivalrous after all, was he?

"Oh, Bucky!" You have never moaned like this before. "I am gonna–" in control yet so powerless. "I- I am gonna cum!" No one has ever made you feel so good, so dirty, so used and yet so taken care of all at once. "Oh, please!" You have no idea why you are even asking his permission to do so. Before him you had always been the boss of your life.

But with Bucky, it just feels right.

Like that is the order of things.

That is just the kind of man that he is.

"Go ahead, my sweet solnyshko" his other hand slaps your ass and stars appear in your vision. Fuck. You had not expected him to be this dominant. "Fuck yourself dumb on my dick like the cock starved slut that you are" his referral to your crazed greed from some minutes ago makes you blush furiously but before you can protest, his thumb swipes faster and faster against your nub and renders you speechless.

Your toe curling orgasm os one that leaves you momentarily numb and deaf, the only thing your mind being able to register the overstimulation of your walls as Bucky chases his own orgasm now, basically using you as a cock sleeve as you motionlessly slam up and down his length, the upper half of your body hunched forwards as your cheek rests against his. Your mouth can only let out incoherent murmurs in his ear as you snake your arms around his neck and nibble on the skin of his shoulders until his hot seed explodes through you, filling your cavern up until it overflows and the white liquid trickles down your legs.

You are eventually moved down and off his cock to which you whine, your hole blinking around air at the loss of contact. That causes Bucky to chuckle as he wraps you up against him in his thick arms and moves your bodies further up the bed until you are resting against the pillows.

"Don't go~" you softly murmur with a pout when he turns to reach for his bedside drawers.

The arm that he has around you further tighten in reassurance as he fishes something out. "Aw, baby, don't worry. I am not going anywhere" your pout deepens when he turns towards you and the object comes into view. "Just–"

"Noooo~" you whine as you tighten your arms around his chest and nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. "L- Leave it on~" one of his eyebrows raise before a little smirk appears on his face.

"Oh, solnyshko, you sweet girl" Bucky puts the tissue box away as he moves your hair out of your face before pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. "Aren't you precious, hm?" As he untucks your flushed face from his neck to look at and caress one of your cheeks lovingly, you blush harder and busy yourself with examining his dog tags to avoid his eyes. "Who would have thought that the baddest avenger would be such a cutie deep down?" You roll your eyes when he playfully quotes what you like to refer to yourself as. "Not wanting to be cleaned so she can remain covered in my cum–"

"Alright, alright. You can stop now" your voice is hoarse due to your vocal exercise from a couple minutes ago.

"Stop?" Your eyes flutter when his nails comfortingly scratch your scalp before one of his fingers snake through the strands of your disheveled hair. "But I haven't even started with you yet, baby" a snort leaves him when he feels you clench with a whimper at his words.

Your limbs are tangled as you lay relaxing in each other's scents, one of Bucky's thick thighs buried between your legs.

"Not even started with me yet?!" Your shock makes him snicker. "After all that?!'

It is safe to say that he has fucked the living daylights out of you.

… And he was not even on top when he did so.

Bucky shrugs. "Only one way to find out…" His eyes search for yours with hope.

You finally look up at him with a small smile, your heart thumping as your fingers curl around the chain of his dog tags. "I would love to, Bucky." Before you could shy away, your now boyfriend has captured your lips in his.

"Oh, and honey?"

"Yes… b- babe?"

"We really have to do something about those sassy little eye rolls of yours."

I know I made him dominant but it's literally Bucky, how could I not?!

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coquitokisses · 10 months ago

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Back Together | Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader, (husband!Bucky Barnes x wife!reader, dad!Bucky Barnes x mom!reader)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings/Tags: Bucky being dad and hubby material, fluff, angst maybe?

Summary: Bucky and reader are married and have two girls, but because of Bucky’s work, reader decides to “break up” and have been separated for a few months. (Let’s say that this “job” was when the whole thing with John Walker happened in TFATWS, idfk lol)

A/N: so I’m currently writing a fanfic (on wattpad) and I had this idea, but I’m not there on the fanfic just yet lol so I decided to just post it here (also, my first language isn’t english so if there are any errors or mistakes, I’m sorry lmao)

The girls are like 4 and 5 years old and those aren’t the names I have planned on using for the fanfic, but it’ll do for now.. and Steve is alive and well lol (he doesn’t make an appearance, but I do mention him, like I said, this idea came as I was writing a fanfic so what I did was try and edit it a little bit so yall don’t need context and shit lol just enjoy okay?)

A/N #2: this is my first time doing this so just bare with me please lmao

It’s almost 10 pm which means Bucky must be on his way to bring the girls back after having them for the weekend. You were away in Seattle the whole weekend for work, but anyways it was Bucky’s turn to stay with the kids. They were supposed to stay with Wanda tonight, but since you arrived earlier than anticipated, you told her that Bucky was gonna bring them over.

You’re not on the best terms. Actually, you’re broken up at the moment and have been like that for like three months now. It all started because of Bucky’s “job”. You always said that he wasn’t being careful with the things he did and you didn’t like the constant worrying about him every time he went out to do his things. He didn’t really see it that way which made you get into a really bad fight and you decided to break up because he wasn’t putting his safety, or his family, as a priority and you didn’t like that.

Which was kinda true. So you’re currently not living together. Bucky has been staying with Steve, or with Sam whenever he comes to New York. The girls usually stay with you and then Bucky takes them on the weekends, but whenever you can’t take them to school (or get them on time) or something on week days, then Bucky takes them without a problem.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pick them up for you?” Wanda asked while on FaceTime with you

“It’s alright, red, don’t worry.” You replied “Besides, Bucky’s probably on his way anyway.”

“Still haven’t talked?”

“Well we talk, just not about us.” You said walking out of the kitchen

“And are you guys still, like, mad or..?”

“I don’t know.” You let out a sigh

“Steve told you he got out.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I just.. I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him about it.”

“Well I think you need to.” She said “Just have a little chat and see where things are at.. you guys still love each other.”

And you did. Of course you did. And the girls want you to get back together too. But you just haven’t talked about it again.

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You replied and just as you said that, you saw the car lights through the window “He’s here, I gotta go.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will, love you.”

“Love you more.”

You hung up the call and left the phone on the couch before heading to the door. You opened it and saw Bucky walking over to the house holding Olivia, your youngest, in his arms and Eloise was walking right next to him. And the three of them just looked tired as hell.

“Hi mommy.” Eloise ran over to you

“Hi, pretty girl.” You immediately hugged her

“Say hi to mama, Liv.” Bucky said as he got closer

“Hi mama.” Olivia opened her arms wanting you to pick her up so you did

“Hi, my angel.” You kissed her cheek

“Sorry to bring them so late, we just got out of the cinema.” Bucky said

“Buck, it’s fine, they don’t even go to school yet.” You told him “Did you guys have fun?” You asked the girls

“So much fun!” Eloise replied excitedly “We also went to the trampoline park earlier.”

“Oh well that explains why someone’s a little more tired than others.” You looked at Olivia and she rested her head on your shoulder

“Mommy, can daddy tuck us in tonight, please?” Eloise asked

“Baby, I’m sure mommy had a really long and tired flight and she just wants to sleep.” Bucky told her

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You said “Daddy will tuck you in, sweetheart.” You tucked a few strands of Eloise’s hair behind her ear

“Daddy, come on.” She grabbed Bucky’s hand

You all went inside and you gave the girls a quick shower before Bucky helped them get in their pjs.

“Mommy, are we staying with auntie Wanda tomorrow?” Eloise asked as she got on her bed

“Yes, baby, I need to go to work.” You replied

“Can’t we stay with daddy?”

“Daddy works too, honey.” You moved her hair out of her face “I thought you liked staying with auntie Wanda.”

“We do, but we wanted to stay with daddy again.” Olivia spoke

“Well I can pick you up at auntie Wanda’s house when I get out of work, how does that sound?” Bucky told them

“And we can get dippin dots too?” Olivia looked at him with puppy eyes

“We can get whatever you girls want.” He said squishing her cheeks making her giggle

You couldn’t help but smile a little. You loved watching Bucky with the girls, he really is an amazing father and they love him like crazy.

“Alright it’s getting super late, time to sleep.” You said to them

“But mom!” Eloise pouted

“No buts, listen to your mom.” Bucky said “Come on, get in bed both of you.”

Each of the girls got in their beds and Bucky went and tucked them both. They have their own separate rooms, but they’re pretty close and they’ve always wanted to sleep in the same room so when the time came and you bought Olivia her big girl bed, Bucky just placed it in Eloise’s room. Anyways, when the time comes when they get to the point where they don’t even want to look at each other, you’ll probably make Bucky move Olivia’s bed back to her room and problem solved. But for now, they absolutely love being in the same room.

“I love you.” Bucky kissed Olivia’s forehead “And I love you.” He then kissed Eloise’s “So so much.”

“We love you too, daddy.” They said

“Now get some sleep because auntie Wanda is coming early tomorrow to pick you up before I leave.” You leaned down to kiss each of them on their heads “I love you both so insanely much.”

“Love you too, mommy.”

“Now go to sleep or I’ll call the slender man.” Bucky said as he turned off the light

He quickly closed the door once you got out of the room and the girls let out a scream that made you both laugh.

“You’re evil.” You chuckled “Creating them traumas so young.”

“It gives them strength.”

You rolled your eyes laughing. “Of course.”

You both went downstairs and then Bucky went back to the car to bring back Olivia’s shoes and a few toys that the girls left in the car. While you put them on the dining table, Bucky was just telling you what they did and how the girls were on the weekend.

“Liv didn’t even asked for my help to wipe her after using the bathroom.”

“No?!” You looked at him kinda shocked

Potty training Eloise was way easier than training Olivia. First she was afraid of the toilet being flushed, then she was afraid that something would come out and bite her, then she didn’t want to stay alone while using the toilet. It’s been a rollercoaster for all of you.

“No, she did it all by herself.”

“Oh my god, really? I’m gonna cry.” You said with a hand on your chest

“She said she’s a big girl and big girls don’t need any help to go potty.”

“She is a big girl.” You said “Fuck, they’re both getting so big.”

“They are.” He nodded “How was Seattle?”

“Fucking amazing.” You said excited “It’s so pretty.”

“And how did it went? Are they planning on transferring you?”

“Hell no, I told Nick I’m not leaving New York.” You replied “If we were still living in the compound, then this would’ve been a whole different conversation, but we’re not and we have kids now so no, I’m not leaving even if they pay me more.”

“Well if they are paying you more then..” he raised his eyebrows

You laughed. “You know what I mean, idiot.” You rolled your eyes “But no, I’m not being transferred.”

“Then why did you go?”

“Nick said that they needed someone like me for some training.” You answered “It was great, I got to teach a few people about self defense, how exciting.”

“I’m glad.” He said with a small smile

He was genuinely happy for you. He knew how much you’ve missed working like that. Being an agent, a spy, you missed it. But at the same time, it wasn’t really in your plans anymore ever since you got pregnant with Eloise. It happened during the blip as well so you weren’t exactly working as an agent or spy anymore so you just decided to leave it behind for good. Until recently.

“You know, if it’s really what you want, then go for it.” He told you “The girls aren’t stopping you and neither am I.”

“I know, but it’s just that I feel like I’m on a different stage in life now.” You said “It felt fucking amazing, don’t get me wrong.”

“Then do it, talk with Nick and tell him to put you out there, that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know.” You let out a sigh

“We’re not going anywhere, you know that, right?” He said and you looked at him “And how cool would it be for the girls to say that their mommy is a spy?”

You laughed. “They will brag about it for sure.”

“And the best part is that you’re great at it and always have been.”

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You shrugged looking at the time on the stove “It’s getting very late.” You looked at him

“Ouch okay, I’m leaving.”

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes

“Are we gonna keep this up?” He looked at you

“What?”

“This nonsense.” He motioned his hand between the two of you

“This nonsense?” You arched an eyebrow “Do I need to remind you whose fault is it that we’re on this position right now?”

“It could’ve gone so much better, but little miss I’m extremely petty over here, doesn’t like to listen to people and doesn’t care about anything other than her opinion.” He said

“Oh don’t make me mad, James.” You crossed your arms

“It’s the truth and you know it.”

“I think you can go now.” You said turning around and starting to walk away

“See what I mean?” You heard him say from behind “Can’t we just talk about it like normal people?” He asked following you

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.” You said turning around to look at him

“Well I think it is.”

“Bucky..”

“Y/N, come on.” He sighed “It’s been three months, are you gonna keep pushing me away?”

And he’s right, you’ve been kinda pushing him away. To be honest, the whole thing could’ve been avoided if Bucky and you came to an agreement, but you never did. You were upset that he was going away with Sam to do all these things that you weren’t okay with and you were thinking about the kids, which, at the moment, he wasn’t doing and that pissed you off. That was the whole thing. He didn’t want to empathize with the way you were viewing the whole situation and he was kinda making you look crazy. Saying things like “it’s not a big deal” or “everything will be alright, you don’t need to freak out”.

How does he expect you to not freak out when he doesn’t care about doing all this dangerous things? Was he insane?

In other circumstances, if you didn’t have kids for example, maybe you would’ve been a little bit more okay with it, maybe. But it’s a whole different scenario now.

And you were kinda pushing him away, sort of. But it wasn’t intentional, it’s just that you were kinda petty and there were times where he wanted to kinda fix things, but you wouldn’t let him because you would find a way to push him away unconsciously.

“You made me feel like I was exaggerating when I clearly wasn’t.” You said

“Because at the moment I did feel that way and I didn’t want to view the situation the way you were.” He explained “And I know I was wrong for that and I’m sorry.”

You let out a sigh. “You still went.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I should’ve stayed here with you, I regretted it the moment I left with Sam.” He said “And I came back as soon as I could.”

“And you stayed with Steve.” You rolled your eyes

“Baby, you wanted to kill me, do you really think I was just gonna come and ask you to take me back after that shit? Like you were just gonna accept me.”

“… Well, you’re kinda right.”

“I know, Steve told me you were pissed and that you wanted to punch me.”

“I did tell him that.” You nodded

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“It’s fine, just forget it, I’m sick of the topic anyway.” You replied leaning on the back of the couch

“But are we fine?” He asked

“I don’t know, are we?”

“Well I’d say we are, kinda.” He got closer to you “You want me to do anything?”

“You could start by fixing the damn back door.”

“Again? But I just fixed it a few months ago.”

“Well I think you did it wrong because the doorknob is broken again.”

“I need to change that fucking door already.” He rolled his eyes “Anything else? Are you still mad at me?”

“A little.” You replied

“Just a little?” He moved his hands to your hips “I can help you change your mind.”

“Easy there, soldier.”

“Easy my ass, come here.”

Before you could even protest, his real hand grabbed your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss that screamed need. You really missed his kisses and just the way he would always give you a peck, whenever and wherever, whatever you were doing, he didn’t give a single care in the world. This man could see you sitting on the toilet and he still would go and give you a quick kiss.

“God, I’ve missed you.” He whispered on your lips “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

“I did too.”

“Can we please never fight again?” He gently put his forehead against yours

“As long as you don’t piss me the fuck off doing some stupid shit like that again, we’re good.”

“Good.” He nodded before kissing you again

“And I swear to god..” you started saying between kisses “If I see you again that close to John Walker, I’m gonna kill you.”

“I know.” He said lowering his hands to the back of your thighs and picking you up

masterlist

a/n: should I post the fanfic here? What do we think? Lol (I’ve been thinking about it A LOT lately)

**UPDATE! I ended up uploading the fanfic and here is the masterlist for it lol

Anywaysss, hope you liked this! <3

(Likes and reblogs will be appreciated)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #marvel #mcu #fluff #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #marriage

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mywritesaremylove · 2 months ago

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Love Language - Bucky Barnes

Acts of Service

He’s not good at saying what he’s feeling but he will show you with the little things.

He randomly fixes things around your house because he saw it was broken.

“It was bothering you, wasn’t it?”

He would get a head start on your morning routine for you, fixing her coffee, getting coat, and bag together.

“Here, I didn’t want you running all around in the morning.”

Does the chores that you forgot about the day before and doesn’t even mention it.

When he’s not on missions, he will always cook you breakfast, no matter what.

It doesn’t matter that he had no sleep from a mission he got back on, he will be in that kitchen flipping pancakes, scrambling eggs, making coffee, or whatever he makes.

He always makes sure your flower vase is full, always replacing them before they die.

If you fall asleep somewhere, he will pick you up and tuck you into bed.

When he goes on morning runs, he takes your dog with him.

He takes responsibility for taking care of your dog.

He's a gentleman to you.

He opens your doors, holds your bags, walks on the outside of the sidewalk.

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pome-seed · 15 days ago

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Summer Surprise ࿐࿔ Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Age-gap 40s DBF Bucky Barnes x Mid-twenties Reader

Summary: You've been looking forward to kicking off the summer with a week on your dads new boat. You decide to have one last night of fun before committing to a week on the sea with your family. But you're thrown into a world of shock when you realize the older man you slept with, only days prior, is not only friends with your dad, but also joining you for the trip.

Word Count: 21.0k

Warnings: Graphic Sexual Content. DBF!Bucky. Oral sex (M&F receiving. Mostly F.) Soft Dom!Bucky. Age-gap (40 y/o Bucky x mid 20s reader). Hand jobs. Hair Pulling. Light Choking. Heavy Teasing. Smug asf Bucky. Neck fixation. Body Worship. Wall Sex. Tension. Just so so so so much smut. P with P (but not toooo much plot) ABSOLUTE filth.

18+ blog, Minors Do Not Interact.

Author's Note: Hey guys! I really enjoyed making this one. This one is a little crazy and a little wild. But I hope you guys like it!!! Also, requests are always open.

The air is charged with electricity, the rhythmic base pulsing through the floor. Your delighted laugh is muffled by the heavy beat as you roll your hips into your friend.

Wanda presses up behind you, her hands slithering around your waist to tickly Nat’s hips. Nat smacks her hand away with a snicker, her body swaying into yours.

You pant, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to your skin from the heated room. “Fuck,” you groan. “I’m thirsty, Imma get a drink, you want anything?” You shout over the music, pushing out from between the two women.

“All good,” Wanda laughs, turning to grind back into Natasha.

You giggle at the pair and start shoving your way through the packed crowd. You’ve never seen your favorite club as packed as it was tonight. Usually, that would make things a little more fun, but tonight it made things a nuisance.

You push through people packed body to body, shouldering through couples and friends to get to the bar.

About two feet from the bar, a drunk man shoulders past you to collapse into a free barstool. You feel your heel slip as you wobble- your stomach drops to your feet in a moment of panic. But before you can roll your ankle, strong hands slide onto your waist and steady you.

“You okay?” A rough voice shouts from above you.

You roll your head back, looking up at a jaw dropping man. A drunken smile slips onto your lips as you unconsciously lean back into him. “All good now,” You giggle.

The man helps maneuver you so you're facing him, a chuckle falling from his lips. “You sure?” His dark blue eyes trail down your body shamelessly. His hand stays on your hip.

“Mhm,” you nod heavily, your gaze flickering between the salt and pepper in his hair, to the pretty crows feet that form when he smiles down at you.

He couldn’t be more than forty. Your light buzz sinks a little deeper as you ogle the man, watching the way the neon lights flicker against his skin.

“You want a drink, sweetheart?” He leans down into your space, so he doesn’t have to shout as much for you to hear.

You swallow heavily. “You buying?”

“For someone as pretty as you, absolutely.” His tongue swipes over the point of his teeth.

You grin and nod, shamelessly leaning into him. “Lead the way, handsome.”

And he did lead the way. Just not to the bar.

He led you to the alley out back, where the line to get into the club stretched to the street. And without a care- or thought for your dignity- in site, he presses you against the cold, chipped bricks.

His facial hair burns against your face as you suck gently on his tongue, your hands frantically fisting at his hair. He chuckles into the kiss, his large hands pinning you in place by your hips.

He nips at your bottom lip, rolling it until it stung, then soothed over it with his tongue. He pants softly into your mouth, a hand traveling up to grip your jaw tightly. He angles your head, pressing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss.

“Fuck-” He groans quietly against your lips, his other hand slipping down to grab your ass.

He smells of expensive cologne and lingering smoke. He tastes like fine liquor.

“Gonna take me somewhere-?” You gasp against him. “Or ‘re you gonna fuck me right here?”

He laughs, deep in his chest, against your neck, his lips trailing rough kisses down the expanse. “That eager?” He whispers, dragging his teeth along your throat.

“Fuck yes-” You pant, arching up into him.

He snickers quietly as he pulls back, his hand sliding back around your jaw. “I’ll take you somewhere baby,” he swipes his tongue over your sore bottom lip. “I’ll take care of you.”

And that's how you end up in a strange hotel, your hair in this random mans fist, as he fucks you into the mattress.

You can barely see straight. Your body aches and your thighs are barely holding your weight by now. The man’s strong fingers press bruises into the soft edge of your hip as he drags you back against his cock.

You choke on a broken wine, your jaw loose as he yanks on your hair.

“Fuck-” he grunts, fucking his cock back into your soaking entrance. “Do that again, sweetheart,” his lip twitches back in a snarl as his muscles clench.

Your eyes roll back as your trembling hand pushes between your legs to circle your clit.

“Just like that, baby, doing so good.” He pants, his nails scraping your scalp as he regrips your hair.

“Oh shit-” You moan, rocking back into him.

He smirks to himself, his large hand swinging back to deliver a quick slap to your ass. You whine, your mouth falling open further. He smacks your ass again, pressing his palm to the red mark that follows.

“That feel good, sweetheart? Huh?” He thrust his hips at a steady pace, deep and hard, punching the air from your lungs. “I asked you a question, baby.” He smacks your ass again.

You nod quickly, your scalp burning as he fists your hair. “S-so fuckin’ good…”

“Yeah? Feels so good gettin’ stuffed full of cock?” He chuckles to himself, his own words making him smile. “Bet it does. Bet you’ve never been fucked like this, huh?”

You shake your head, pushing back against him needily. He pulls you back on his dick, grinding into you slowly. He tugs gently on your hair, and then you feel his breath ghosting across your throat. He presses a soft kiss to the hinge of your jaw.

“Ever been fucked by someone older?” He whispers, his lips dragging over your shoulder.

Your vision nearly blanks out when he grinds his hips into you again. You gasp when a sharp sting against your ass shocks you back to reality. “No-...” You groan.

“Mm,” he hums, sinking his teeth into the curve of your shoulder. You nearly sob, your fingers circling your clit a little slower. You don’t want this to be over yet. “‘S it feel good?” He whispers, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Do boys your age make you feel this good?” His stubble burns where he drags his chin against your cheek.

You shake your head. He softens his hold on your hair to massage your scalp.

“Does it make you wanna cry?” He whispers, kissing the corner of your lips. He rolls his hips into you a little slower. You choke on a garbled noise.

Your stomach twists almost painfully, something hot and aching spreading through you.

You nod, blinking through tears to try to ground yourself.

You can feel him smile against your cheek. He nips your jaw. “I bet.” He snickers, snapping his hips against yours as he pulls back. He curls his fist back around your thick locks of hair. “I won’t stop you, baby,” he groans, his chin dipping to his chest as he stares at himself sinking into you.

“You can cry, sweetheart. Go ahead and cry.”

You can’t remember falling asleep.

The last thing you could recall from the night before was the man spreading you out on your back, softly kissing your cheeks. His tongue dragging over your skin as he licked away your tears.

You remember his kisses trailing down your stomach, his hand wrapped around your throat.

You remember him smiling against your inner thigh, before he gently kissed your soaking cunt.

After that, everything was a blur.

So now, as you stretch slowly beneath the silky sheets, you feel sore and raw. Every part of you feels so deliciously tender.

Calloused fingers twitch over your stomach. You shiver, glancing down at the thick arms wrapped snug around your waist. You look over your shoulder to find the man sleeping soundly, his face nuzzled into your hair.

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like a fool. But you can’t help it. Your whole body still feels loose and raw from the way he picked you apart the night before.

So you relax into the sheets and trace your nails over his knuckles, forcing yourself to stay quiet. To savor the moment a little longer.

His body feels warm against yours, heavy and relaxed. You feel his soft lips brush your nape. Your stomach flutters as you tug the thin sheet a little higher over your chest.

Your little savory moment is cut short when he releases a heavy breath against the back of your neck, his arms winding tighter.

You make a soft noise as his arms press into your stomach.

His chest rumbles in a sleepy chuckle, his lips dragging over your skin. “Morning,” he whispers, his voice all gravel and velvet.

You swallow hard, your mouth now deeply dry. Your confidence now heavily lacking, now that you’re sober.

“Morning,” you mutter.

His hand slides from your stomach to your hip, massaging gently into the muscle. “Feel okay?”

You suppress a shudder, and nod, your eyes glued to the wall across from the bed. “Mhm.”

Something nervous curls in your stomach.

The man makes a rough noise before he starts to turn onto his back- pulling you with him. You shift with him, pressed into his side- almost on top of him. Before you can do much else, the hand not glued to your waist rakes the hair from your face.

You blink up at him now, blue eyes flickering over your features.

“Hi,” he whispers, his teeth nipping his lip.

“Hi,” you groan, dropping your face to his chest. The hand in your hair slips to cradle your nape as he laughs. You can feel the vibrations through his ribs.

“Where’s all that gusto?” He hums, his nails gently scratching your hip.

“You fucked it out of me,” you huff.

He makes a surprised noise at that, his palm loosening around your neck. Once he gathers himself, his nails start gently scratching at your scalp. “There it is.”

You sigh against him, and faintly you realize he still smells like cologne and smoke. You swallow, your lips pressed to his chest. “I’m Y/n, by the way,” you slowly lift your head, an embarrassed smile curling at your mouth.

“Bucky,” he mutters, still stroking your scalp. “Nice to meet you, doll.”

“What a meeting,” You snicker, pushing up over him a little further. You drag the sheets with you as you slowly straddle the man. He watches you, his hands falling to your thighs, where they peak beneath the white sheet.

He hums to himself, biting back a smirk as he looks at you fully. He looks sweet, bathed in warmth and sleep. You rest your hands against his chest, your touch trailing as you reach to cup his jaw. On a whim, you lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips. He hums again, his tongue brushing yours.

“You have pretty eyes,” You whisper against his mouth, feeling his facial hair scrape your face. “So blue.”

He smiles into the next kiss, struggling to keep his teeth out of the mix. “Mhm?” He murmurs, his hands stroking up and down your waist. “Didn’t see much of me last night?”

You shake your head. “It’s hard to see when you’re sobbing.” You snicker.

He groans softly, his head falling back against the pillows in exasperation. “You can’t say that when you’re on top of me, doll.”

You rake your fingers through his hair, pushing it back. “Oops,” you smirk, your stomach fluttering at how pretty his eyes look with his crows feet.

His hair is soft beneath your fingers, thick and tangled. Your gaze sweeps over his face, his neck, his chest. Faint freckles mark his warm skin. You wonder faintly if he has any tattoos.

“Whatcha starin' at?” He chews at his lip, a hand dropping to gently palm your ass over the sheets.

“You’re really fuckin’ attractive.”

He chokes on a laugh, a grin spreading across his face. “Jesus, girl.” He shakes his head at you. He slowly sits up against the headboard, dragging you closer in his lap. “You’re blunt when you’re sober,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss your shoulders.

“Can’t help it,” you mutter, arching your neck to give him space.

“‘S that right?” He nips gently at your throat.

“Mhm,” you sigh.

“I’ve got a few new observations too. Wanna hear?” He lifts a brow at you, struggling to suppress his smile. You nod, your hands slide to rest on his shoulders.

He leans in, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear. “You look good with makeup running down your face.”

You flinch back with an embarrassed gasp, your hands smacking over your face. “You’re kidding-” you groan. “Is it everywhere?”

He snickers heartily, his fingers slowly wrapping around your wrists. You try to keep yourself covered but he easily tugs your hands away. “I’m just teasing, baby,” he chuckles. “You’re fine.”

“Are you?” You lift a suspicious brow at him.

He shrugs slightly. “Only a little.”

You groan and drop your head onto his shoulder. “Oh god-” you huff. In reality, you shouldn’t feel so bad. You know he seems to like it. But the image of yourself you’ve cooked up in your head looks like a mess.

And Bucky is by far the hottest man you’ve ever slept with. So being a mess is less than desirable.

He rubs your back gently, his cheek knocking into the crown of your head. “You’re fine, you’re fine. It’s only a little eyeliner.”

You shake your head in embarrassment, your lips pressed firmly to the thick muscle of his shoulder.

“You’re not gonna look at me now?”

You shake your head.

“Mkay,” he hums. You gasp when his fingers slid into your hair, curling around the strands and yanking. He easily pulls you back to look at him, a gentle sting sizzling against your scalp. He tilts his chin up and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your eye. “So pretty.”

Your stomach twists, butterflies knotting inside you. Jesus. You’ve never had a one night stand like this before.

You stare at him, your face aflame.

“Not gonna hide?”

“No…” you whisper. He easily retracts his hand from your hair.

“Good girl.” He snickers when your eyes bulge.

“Jesus-” you shake your head at him, wiping your eyes with your finger tips. Before another word can leave your mouth, your phone rings somewhere in the room. Your spine immediately straightens. “That’s mine-” You blurt looking over your shoulder past the bed.

You awkwardly climb out of Buck’s lap, dragging the sheets with you in search of your phone. You find it by the door, with your heels and purse.

You have three missed calls from Wanda.

“Shit…” You mutter, calling her back. It rings once before she’s answering.

“Y/n? Finally!” Wanda groans.

“Hey, what’s up? Are you okay?”

“Ah- we’re locked out of the house, can you come by and let us in?” She awkwardly mutters.

“What? Both of you? Where did you sleep last night?” You frown.

“We got a cab to Pietro’s, slept there. But we still can’t find our keys.”

“How did both of you lose your keys?” You groaned.

“Nat put hers in my purse, and then I put mine in my purse, but I think I left my purse in the cab.” You could hear her cringing through the phone. “Nat’s gotta get ready for work, so can you please come home and let us in?”

You stiffen, glancing back at Bucky, who is shameless staring at you from the bed. “I uh- yeah, I’ll be right there. Gimme like-” you glanced at the time. “20-30, okay?”

“Thank you so much- we owe you.”

“Big time,” you hiss, then hang up. You turn back to face Bucky, your fists white knuckled against the sheets. “I have to go.”

“I caught that,” he smiles, lazily rolling out of bed. Your face heats as you watch him find and tug on his boxers. You watch him shamelessly, your gaze traveling down the expanse of muscle beneath his skin.

He steps into your space, and only now did it really sink in how tall he is. Large hands cup your jaw, pulling you up to kiss him. You sigh against his tongue as he takes the lead, easily molding you beneath his hands.

You lean your weight into him, your body sagging against his.

He pulls back with a wet sound, his tongue darting out to lick over your lips.

“Can I see you again?” You blurt, your eyes fluttering open as he sighs against your skin.

He smirks, his nose nudging yours. “You wanna see me again?” He teases, stretching it out.

You nod slowly.

He chuckles, then reaches to snag your phone. “‘F course, sweetheart.” He muttered, already punching his number into your contacts.

You try not to look as light-headed as you feel. You try not to seem as excited as you are. “Thanks,” you mutter when he hands you your phone back. You see he sent himself a text from your number.

Pretty girl from the bar.

Weirdly enough, the fact that he put a period at the end of the text is what turned you on.

You watch as Bucky quietly searches for his pants. You stand there, wrapped in the sheet, wearing nothing but your fragile dignity. He doesn’t pull his pants on when he finds them, and instead fishes out his wallet.

Your brows pinch together in confusion. But then he pulls out two twenties and holds them out for you. “Call a cab so it’ll be here when you’re ready.” When you don't move, he smiles softly at you. He pulls your purse from the floor and sticks the money inside.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up in the bathroom, so you can get changed out here, okay?” He lifts a brow at you as he sets your purse back down.

You nod. “Okay.” You mutter, stunned by his caring actions.

He shakes his head at you with a chuckle as he gathers his clothes and enters the bathroom. The door closes with a soft click. You release a shocked breath.

You would have stood there longer, if you didn’t remember that Natasha and Wanda were shivering and waiting for you. You roll your eyes and start gathering your clothes.

When you’re finally dressed and pulling on your heels, Bucky emerges from the bathroom. He’s holding a damp cloth, folding it up as he approaches you.

When you look up at him, he gently pinches your chin and starts wiping smeared mascara from your temples.

You swear you could have blacked out from arousal right then and there.

“Did you call a cab?” He asks, steadily stroking the warm cloth over your eyes. You nod. He smiles and wipes the remaining smudged makeup from your skin. “Good.” He tosses the rag onto the bed.

When you finally stand, he dips down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You lean into it, your stomach twisting with images of the night before.

“Get home safe, sweetheart.” He brushes a soft kiss over your lips, then he’s gone.

You: I’m still sore

Bucky: I bet. Did you get home safe?

You: Yup, safe and sound.

You: When can I see you again?

Bucky: I’ll be busy next week, but after that, when are you free?

You: Any day after that, I’ll make time :)

You: I’ll tell you my work schedule when I get it

Bucky: Can’t wait. I was thinking of your pretty smile the whole way home.

You: That all?

Bucky: And a few other things.

You: Liiiiike

Bucky: Typing this shit out is a lot harder for someone my age, doll.

You: You act like you’re 60

Right as you send that message, another from him comes through.

Bucky: I was thinking about what you would look like with your mouth full.

Bucky: I’m 40, I’m getting up there.

You: I like where your head's at

You: I can’t wait for next week to be over

Though until this morning, you wouldn’t have meant that. You’re actually really looking forward to the upcoming week.

To kick off the summer, your dad invited you and your friends to join him and your step-mother for a week on his new boat. It had been a long running tradition in your family to spend a week with your dad as the weather turned scorching.

He always looked forward to spending time with you, and now he had a shiny new investment to show off to you and his friends.

Free vacation on a boat? Who turns that down?

Natasha was giddily joining you, though Wanda wasn’t gonna be able to make it. She already had a trip planned with her brother to go visit their parents back home. So you and Nat promised to take as many pictures as you could.

“Are you still texting him?” Nat glanced at you, momentarily taking her eyes off the road.

“Maybe,” you grin, tapping your thumbs against the screen.

“I should have left you behind.” She rolls her eyes. “You better not spend all week drooling over your phone.”

“I won’t, I won’t. I’m just having fun.” You snicker. “He’s so cute with how he texts.”

Nat rolls her eyes. “Don’t start.”

The air feels brisk on your skin, with each brush of the breeze. You can almost taste the salt. Laughter drifts from ahead.

Further down the dock, you see your dad handing his wife a crate of beer. She tucks it under her arm and steps onto the looming, luxurious Yacht. “Dad!”

He grins when he sees you, waving dramatically. “Hey, hon,” He scoops you into a bear hug. “And Natty,” He yanks Nat into his arms. She chuckles, smiling to herself .

“Hey Mr. L/n,” she pats his back and releases him.

“How was the drive?” He lifts another pack of beer, handing it to his wife. The older woman waves hello and smacks a kiss to the top of your head.

“Good, Nat drove the whole way,” you bump her shoulder. “I’m just itching to go swimming- when’s take off?” Your father lifts your bags onto the boat, leading the way to the cabins.

“We were just waiting on you two, I’ll let the crew know we’re good to go while ya’ll get settled.” You follow him through the bottom lower deck, into the first of the several lounge areas.

You whistle low, dragging your fingertips along expensive sofas. Nat hides her shock with slightly raised brows. Just past the kitchen is a spiral staircase that leads below deck.

Your room was larger than you thought it’d be. “Geez…” You huff.

“I would have given ya’ll one of the nicer rooms, but since you’re sharing, I thought you’d be fine with the two twins. ‘S that cool, hon?” Your dad slides your suitcases into the shiny, luxurious room.

“There’s bigger rooms?” Nat gapes.

“I’ll give you the grand tour after dinner, how’s that?” He grins. “But first, you two get changed, I want you to meet everyone. We’re having drinks on deck one. Bars on deck three. ‘You girls need anything else?”

“Nah, we’re fine- we’ll meet you up top!” You pull your suitcase on your bed, yanking the zipper open.

You dad says his goodbyes and slips out of the room. Natasha immediately turns to you with a dropped jaw and widely gesturing hands.

“I mean- come on!” She flops back on her bed.

“Right?” You laugh, pulling out your bikini and shawl. “The perks of the corporate ladder.” You sigh wistfully.

“Maybe we need to quit our jobs and go for the office life.” Natasha stretches with a groan.

“You wouldn’t last a day,” you toss your sunscreen at her.

“Hey,” she catches the bottle and shoots up. “I’ve got a good two weeks in me.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up, get dressed. I wanna indulge in the free bar.”

The yacht pulled off from the dock shortly after you boarded. You could feel the initial sway of the water as the mass steadily bobbed. After getting dressed, you and Nat made quick work of exploring the kitchen and luxury lounges.

On the second deck, you found a built in, fully stocked bar. A young man worked the bar, who you eagerly interrogated about the boat.

Apparently, there was a crew of 11 people, all who slept in the very bottom ship. There were three chefs, one bartender, and the rest worked on steering and maintaining the boat.

Two of the maintenance crew worked the diving deck, which was stocked with scuba gear and emergency watercrafts.

Natasha moves behind the bar to pick through the liquor while you continue interrogating the young man. You assume your father had just hired him, because he seemed eager and a little nervous.

“Y/n, hon, c’mere!” Your father shouts from the deck below.

You pull back from the built in bar, plucking a cherry from a small bowl. “I’ll be right back,” you chuckle, leaving Nat to continue mixing your drinks.

You jog down to the lower deck where your father and his friends are talking over beer. You adjust your sunglasses as you step around the built in couch.

“I want you to meet everyone- where’s Natty?” Your dad frowns, squinting up at the bar.

“She’s getting our drinks, she’ll be-...” The words die on your tongue as one of the men by the railing turns back to look at your dad. Then you.

Cool blue eyes find yours.

You can see the moment recognition fries his brain. Furrowed brows shoot to his hairline, dark eyelashes flutter as he gapes at you.

“Oh, hon, c’mere,” Your dad shoves you forward. “This is James, he lives a few houses down from me. He’s my running buddy.” He grins ignorantly.

Your tongue feels weighted and dry as you stare up at the man. “Hi.”

“James, this is my daughter, Y/n. She’s here with her friend Natasha,” he points over your shoulder to the red head.

Bucky’s shocked expression shifts back into something resembling calm. “Nice to meet you,” his lips twitch in a soft smile. You glance down at the large hand outstretched towards you.

You visibly shake your head, snapping yourself out of your daze.

“Yeah, you too-” You loosely shake his hand. You try not to shiver when his callouses brush over your smooth skin.

Bucky’s lips curve into an amused smile.

“Uh- James, you said?” You blurt, yanking your hand back.

“James, but I go by Bucky.” Bucky straightens, his curious gaze sweeping over you. You stiffen, turning to your dad to avoid the obvious flush that begs to creep up your neck.

“I prefer James,” your dad shrugs, nudging the man.

“So…” you swallow, “you’re the James my dad’s been training with?” You knew your father had a friend he worked out with. You knew he had help training for the marathon he ran last spring. But him?

Bucky nods slowly, his blue eyes piercing. “Mhm.”

Your words fizzle out as you stare up at the man. The air feels thin and sharp around you. You feel the weight of your phone in your hand, memories of the texts you shared with him just that morning haunting you.

“And this is Bruce, we work together-” You dads voice cut through the moment as he pulls forward his other friend.

You swallow and take a step back, turning to the other older men introducing themselves to you. You nod along in a daze, not absorbing a single name or relationship.

“I’m- I’ll be right back, I’m gonna grab Nat so you don't have to repeat all this later.” You awkwardly interrupt your dad.

Bucky’s gaze burns into the side of your face.

Your dad makes a face and nods, cracking open a beer. “Mkay, be quick!”

You’re already walking away, trying not to shiver under the weight of Bucky watching you. You can feel it. You hear the low rumble of his voice as he says something to your father.

Your ears start ringing. You nearly slam into Natasha on the way back up the stairs. “Come with me-” You blurt, dragging her with you.

“Hey- don’t make me spill, I just made these.” She hisses.

“I don’t care-” You pull her into the cabin on the second story. You slam the sliding door shut, heaving a rough sigh. “He’s here- and he’s friends with my dad.” You shiver, suspiciously glancing out the window at the deck.

You look for only a second, but it’s like he can feel you. Blue eyes snap up to the window as he takes a slow swig of beer. You choke down an undignified yelp.

“Who? What is happening right now?” Nat smack your arm.

“The older guy from the other night- he’s here.”

Nat stares at you for a long moment, a disbelieving smile spreading across her red lips. “The guy that screwed your brains out?”

You shiver and roll your eyes. “Yes, Nat he’s here- oh my god and he knows my dad-” You huff.

“He’s actually friends with your dad?” Nat snickers, taking a sip from her cocktail. “That’s rich.”

“I was literally texting him on the drive here-” You take your drink from her. You gather you’ll be needing a lot of those to get through this trip.

Nat peaks her head through the glass door. She glances back at you with a cheeky look. “Might wanna finish that, looks like he’s coming up.”

Your heart, once again, drops to your ass. You down the rest of your drink, then the rest of Nat's. “Get out, go, go-” You shoo her. She snickers to herself as she slips out. You hear her voice as she says a sly “Excuse me,” on the way down the stairs.

Oh god.

You barely have a second to collect yourself before he’s standing in front of you.

The door slides shut with a click.

Your gaze slides from the floor to his face, shamelessly taking him in. He’s dressed in black swim trunks and a compression t-shirt, accentuating the dips of his muscles.

“Hi,” you gulp.

“Hi,” he tries to suppress the cheeky grin that fights its way onto his face. His sharp gaze trails over your bathing suit, to the cover up that covered nothing, to the tight grip you had on your glass.

“So this is what was keeping you busy for the next week.” You supply helpfully.

“Mhm,” he takes a careful step closer. You don’t pull back. He slowly pulls the sunglasses from your face and sticks them in your hair. “Your dad, huh? Didn’t see that coming.” He mutters, his fingers brushing a line down your cheek.

You glance out the tinted windows, down where Natasha was socializing with your dad. Nerves and paranoia curl into something painful as it flutters in your stomach.

“Yeah,” you whisper, your breath hitching in your chest when his thumb drags over your lips.

“You’re full of surprises,” he hums, tilting his head down at you. He curls his hand around your jaw, lifting your head fully to look at him. You swallow heavily. “So,” he sighs, his breath ghosting your cheek, “What do you want to do?”

You try to hide the fact that you’re teetering on the edge of breathlessness. You try to seem unaffected. You blink stupidly. “What?”

His fingers twitch against your jaw, pressing softly into your cheeks. His smirk curls deeper. “What do you want to do?” He repeats.

“Do you want to pretend nothing happened?” His free hand tugs the empty glass from your fingers. He slips it on the table behind you. “We can ignore the other night and play nice for your dad. Or,” His grip tightens slightly against your jaw, his smile deepening. His pretty crows feet curve against his skin. “Or we make good on our plans.”

“Our plans,” you pant, leaning into him subconsciously. “For seeing each other again?”

“Mhm,” he hums, his free hand skating down your naked waist. “I could show you a few of the things I’ve been thinkin’ about.” He drags his rough palm over your hip. He doesn’t even seem to hesitate over his next words. “You ever been fucked on a boat, sweetheart?”

You shiver, your eyes falling shut. You shake your head.

“Words,” he whispers, his nails pressing into your hip.

“No,” you gasp, swallowing around your tongue. His firm grip on your jaw keeps you from hiding from him. “I haven't.”

“Mm,” he nods in thought. “Wanna try it?”

You nod without thought, blinking back up at him. Your body feels hot. You can feel your pulse in your toes. “Yeah.” You pant.

He smirks, tugging you closer by the jaw. He presses a bruising kiss to your lips, his stubble scraping your face raw. His tongue drags slowly over yours, slow and claiming.

He hums appreciatively, guiding you gently with each slick slide of the kiss. Your wandering hands find his chest, your fingers curling into his tight black shirt.

He snickers into your mouth as you press closer, mocking your desperation.

A chorus of laughter drifts from outside, shocking you back into the moment. You yank back, he lets you go without a fight. You stumble into the table behind you with a wince. Bucky tilts his head at you, brown hair highlighted with grays falling into his eyes.

“Careful,” he glances at your hip. But your gaze is stuck on the way his tongue swipes over his slick lips. He leans back against the wall, his arms folded over his chest.

You suck in a shaky breath, steadying yourself. Why can’t you catch your breath? “My dad can’t find out.” You blurt.

He chuckles. “Goes without saying, sweetheart.”

You nod to yourself, wiping a hand down your face. You wince internally, hoping your lips don’t look too puffy. “Okay- okay, um…”

Bucky sees your panic and sighs. He pushes off the wall, stepping back into your space. You curse yourself, still barely holding it together. He pushes thick locks of hair behind your ears, cupping your face. “If you don’t want him to find out, you have to relax,” he mutters.

You nod, your cheeks puffing from his hold.

He bites back a smile. He pecks your lips, gentler than you were expecting. “C’mon, go get a drink and socialize. I’ll find you later,” he whispers, pulling back with a light smile. “Just relax.”

“Okay,” you nod obediently, taking a deep breath.

He chuckles and releases you. “You’re cute,” he shakes his head, then slips out the glass doors. You’re left alone, struggling to breathe.

When you rejoin the party, Nat’s telling a story, and has every last one of the men wrapped around her finger. You slide up beside her, dropping onto the heated leather of the couch.

The sun hangs high in the cloudless sky, beating down on your skin. You’re sweating. But you can’t tell if it's from the literal heat, or from the way you keep glancing back at Bucky- only to find him already looking at you.

He sips slowly on his beer, his palms growing slick against the perspiration. You spot the pink of his tongue as it swipes over the rim.

You snap your gaze back to the center, to where your father is boasting about fishing stories.

“I’ve been trying to get my girl to come with me, but she just hates her old man,” he huffs, gesturing to you.

“Dad, fishing isn’t exactly up my alley.” You shake your head at him.

“You go hiking with your mother all the time,” he pouts.

“Because hiking doesn’t include fish guts, and sitting in silence. Take one of them fishing!” You snicker, tossing your hand at his group of friends.

“James said he’d fish with me once we park her,” your dad pats the metal backing of the couch.

Your gaze flickers to the mentioned man, who peaked up once hearing his name. “You fish, James?” You watched him over the rim of your glass, sipping on your cocktail.

His lip twitches in amusement. “Mm, not much.” He mutters, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “But I’ll give it a try, since you’re slackin’ on your old man.”

You shake your head, taking a cherry stem between your teeth. “Please tell me you won’t be gutting fish out here,” you turn to your dad.

“We can’t eat it if we don’t prepare it, hon,” Your dad chuckled, setting a hand on his belly.

“The stink of fish guts is exactly what this vacation needs,” your step-mother, Claire, grimaces as she walks up with a bowl of chopped fruit. “I’m with Y/n. If you’re fishing out here, you’re throwing it back.”

You grin, taking the bowl from the woman. “Thank you very much, Claire.”

“Will you give it a try then?” Bucky’s voice makes you freeze, a thick chunk of watermelon stuffed into your cheek. “Without the stink and death, might as well.”

You chew slowly, your stomach turning as you lock eyes with the man. “I think you can handle it on your own.” You pass the bowl of fruit to Nat. “I’ll sit in the hot tub and watch.”

“Watchin’s no fun.” He sips on his beer. Under the bright rays of sunlight, you can see the speckled gray of his hair a little clearer.

“I’ll make do.” You shrug, crossing your legs. You don’t miss the way his gaze flickers to the movement. Your stomach twists with something hot.

“I’ll go fishing with you guys,” Bruce, one of your dads other friends, awkwardly chimes in. You could almost laugh at the innocent shift.

“I’ll go with Y/n and sit back. I’m not one for fishing.” Everett, another friend, makes a sarcastic face before swigging from his beer.

Natasha sets the bowl of fruit on the couch and tugs you up by the arm. “I’m done with fish talk, come sit with me while I tan.”

You throw one last look over your shoulder as she drags you off. Blue eyes follow you with each step. You snap your gaze forward, your stomach twisting. “Jesus,” you whisper.

“You two are real subtle, babe.” Nat chuckles, dragging you down onto two soft beach chairs. You scoot your chair closer and cross your arms over your eyes.

“He’s so hot,” you groan.

“Say it louder, for the crew to hear.” She snickers, laying back with a sigh.

You bite back a smile, stretching your limbs out to soak in the sun. If you put aside the twisting flurry of arousal and attraction burning in your gut, you felt relaxed.

Beyond relaxed. Out here, the air is crisp and fresh, smelling of salt and sunscreen. On the lower decks, if you leaned close enough over the railing, you could feel the cold water misting your face.

You’ve been excited for this trip for weeks now, feeling like summer has finally arrived.

All you wanted to do was swim in the ocean and lounge around with free snacks.

Now, you wanted the same things. Just add screwing the shit out of Bucky to that list, and it’d be perfect.

After you finally get your fill of the sun, you and Nat move down to soak in the hot tub. You have to turn down the temperature so you don't get heat stroke, but god those bubbles feel nice. You sink back into the water and stare up at the clear sky as Nat rambles quietly.

Natasha doesn’t often allow herself to wind down. You were honestly still shocked you got her to join you.

The jets hum softly beneath you, easing your muscles as the salt-tinged breeze brushes your skin. The day’s heat lingers, but the warm water cocoons you in comfort, making the transition into evening feel effortless.

It’s quiet, but not silent. You hear the soft lapping of waves against the hull, the occasional distant call of seabirds, and maybe the gentle clink of ice in a nearby cocktail glass.

The sun slowly drifts towards the horizon, casting melted colors across the water. Light reflects off the waves, rocking and swaying with each brush of the wind.

The drive over took you girls longer than you thought it would, so by the time you set out, it was the late afternoon. With only a few hours on the water, dinner time was already around the corner.

“Girls, start drying off, we’re heading in for dinner,” your father shouts up at you from the lower deck.

Nat rises from the water, playfully splashing you on her way out. “You coming?”

“Mhm, in a minute, I’ll meet you inside.” You hum, your eyes sliding closed.

“Mkay,” Nat wraps the towel around herself and leaves you to yourself. You can hear your fathers loud, boisterous laughter from inside. You assume he’s getting giddy over dinner.

You sink deeper into the water, the warmth beckoning you in as the air grows chillier.

“You planning on skipping dinner?” You jump, water splashing over the edge as you look back. Bucky smiles at you from the steps, that cheeky look on his lips.

“No, just didn’t wanna get out yet.”

“Mm,” he hums, tilting his chin up to glance at the temperature gauge.

“Are you not heading in?” You swallow, feeling bare beneath his gaze.

He shrugs. “They’re gonna bring the food outside, to the lounge.” He nods his head to the lower deck. He snags your towel from the nearby chairs and holds it out for you. “C'mon.”

You lift a brow at him. “Bossing me around now?” You huff, but obediently climb out of the water.

Bucky watches the droplets slide down the valley between your breasts. “‘Mhm,” he hums, a soft sigh leaving his chest when the towel wraps fully around you. “You’re good at listenin’.”

You swallow, your throat feeling dry. “Am I?”

“We’ll find out.” He smirks, gently pushing wet hair from your face. You shiver beneath his touch.

You glance around you, paranoia mixing with arousal. “Someone could see…” You whisper.

His smile twists deeper. His palm curls around your nape. Your knees feel like jelly. “I know,” he mutters, slowly guiding you indoors. You pant softly, feeling breathless as he maneuvers you with a possessive grip.

You follow him into the small sitting area, nothing up there but the bathrooms and a few sofas. A spiral staircase stood between the two restroom doors.

“Where are we going?” You waver, your breath hitching when his thumb strokes your neck.

“Right here,” he pushes you out of view of the windows, pressing you to the wall. Your head knocks back against the firm wall, your gaze a little spacey. Bucky’s warm fingers slip beneath your towel, tugging until it falls to the floor. You gasp, your stomach clenching.

He smiles to himself, pleased with how reactive you are. His knuckles trail between your breasts, then brush over your stomach. “What room’s yours?”

“Huh?” You blink, staring up at him.

He chuckles, meeting your gaze. “What room’s yours?” He tilts his head, his knuckles brushing the hem of your bathing suit bottoms.

“It’s- It’s the fourth one down, to the left,” you pant. “I’m sharing with Nat.”

He nods slowly, his fingers sliding beneath the ties of your bottoms. You hold your breath. “Mkay,” he mutters, pulling back and releasing the band with a snap. You flinch, your stomach flipping. He snickers at you.

A heat rises up your neck, embarrassed and too flustered to care.

“My room is the first one to the right, when you go down the main steps.” He whispers, the hand on your neck gently massaging your muscles. Your lashes flutter. He leans down, trailing his lips over your throat.

“Careful,” you swallow, “not to rub off my foundation…”

“Hm?” He mutters, pressing a soft kiss to the hinge of your jaw.

“I’m- I’m wearing makeup on my neck.” He pulls back enough to look at you, his brow quirked. “You left a few marks the other night. I had to cover them up.”

The sly grin that spreads across his face is less than subtle. His thumb presses firmly to your neck, where he still holds your nape. “Might wanna go easy on swimming.”

“Waterproof,” you smirk.

“Gotta love science,” he dips back down to press a lingering kiss to your jaw. “Where?”

Your shaky hand slides between you. You tap the curve of your shoulder. “Here,” you tilt your head back. “Here,” you brush the apple of your throat. “Here,” you trail your fingertips to several places along your collarbones.

His warm breath tickles your throat as he chuckles, finding great amusement in marking you up. “Don’t want daddy to see,” he pulls back, releasing his grip on your nape.

You roll your eyes, arching into his touch as his fingers press into your side. “Shut up.”

“Do you remember what I said?”

You frown. “What?”

“Where's my room?”

“Oh-” you smack your lips, smiling awkwardly. “Nope.”

“First one to the right when you go down the main steps.” He repeats. “Repeat it back.”

You shiver under his authoritative tone. “First one to the right.”

“What staircase?” He lifts a brow.

“Main one, the main stairs.” You swallow.

He gives you a pleased smile. “Good girl,” he whispers, leaning down to brush his lips over yours.

You lean into it, but he’s gone too soon. He steps back, leaving you cold and panting. You frown at him as he picks up your towel. “Dinners starting. Don’t wanna keep them waiting.”

You wrap the towel around yourself and nod, wiping a hand down your flushed face. Before you can get another word out, Bucky’s already leaving the room.

You stare at him go, trying desperately to catch your breath.

You find yourself at Bucky’s door late into the night.

Dinner was lengthy, shared over drinks and laughter, and plans for the next day. After the meal was finished, everyone took their desserts- scoops of ice cream- to the deck to stare at the stars.

Out on the ocean the stars burned brighter. For the first time in your life, you could really count the constellations.

Your father and his friends poured over generous amounts of beer, listening to music and shouting with laughter.

You and Nat stayed to yourselves, watching and snickering at your dad as he got more and more drunk.

When the night finally came to an end, you felt more awake than ever. You spent the entire night dodging looks from Bucky- hoping to keep your composure.

And now, freshly showered and changed, you stood outside his door. Praying he wasn’t asleep.

You knocked gently on the door, your knuckles thudding softly.

With little to no shame, you leaned in and listened for any signs of life. You waited, barely breathing, but heard nothing. You started to doubt yourself, when you finally caught the sound of the bathroom door clicking.

The door swung open in front of you, revealing Bucky, messily toweling his hair dry. Your gaze travels down his body, to the dark blue boxers being all that clothed him.

A large hand slips around your wrist, tugging you inside. “Standin’ in the hall isn’t exactly secretive,” He chuckles, closing the door behind you.

“Right,” You whisper, peeking around him into his room. You blow out an impressed whistle. “Damn, my dad was serious about the rooms. We got the short end of the stick.”

You step further into the room, to the full sized bed and spacious bathroom.

Plush cream carpet, smooth cherry wood accented walls, polished marble crowning, warm glowing lights. Three towering windows peaked out to the dark blue ocean. By the doors to the hall and bathroom sat a cushioned sofa, where Bucky’s suitcase lived.

Rough hands settle on your hips, a thumb slipping beneath your shirt. Your stomach tenses as stubble drags over the tender flesh behind your ear.

“Maybe don’t mention your dad while you’re in here,” he chuckles throatily, the sound vibrating gently into your skull.

You nod shakily, leaning back into his firm chest. “Right,” you whisper.

His warmth sinks through the thin fabric of your top.

“Did you have fun tonight, baby?” He drags a soft kiss along the side of your neck.

“Mhm, lots.” You sigh, tilting your head back for him.

“Excited for tomorrow?” He presses his lips beneath the curve of your jaw, inhaling deeply. You shiver, your lashes fluttering closed. “Gonna go swimmin’?”

You nod, rolling your head back against his shoulder. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, smelling your conditioner. “Yeah,” you swallow. “Gonna go diving. What about you? ‘Re you gonna fish with you-know-who?”

He slaps your ass playfully, chuckling into your hair. “Watch it.” You press back into him with a sigh, a smile curling at your lips.

“Oops.”

His fingers slip beneath your shirt, his palm pressing into you as he brushes your stomach. “Bring up you-know-who again and Imma fuckin’ gag you,” he huffs, dragging his finger tips along the hem of your bra.

You groan, pushing your hips back against him. “Don’t tempt me.”

He shakes his head at you, pulling his hands from your shirt. He pushes you forward by the hips until you’re in the center of the room. You look back at him with a frown, swaying on your feet unsteadily.

Bucky sits down on the edge of the bed, his knees spread naturally. “Look at me,” he tilts his head at you.

You turn to face him, but before you can move any further, he shakes his head.

“I wanna see how good you listen,” he smirks, looking up at you through dark lashes.

You breath hitches in your chest, like your lungs are slowly being pressed down on by something stronger. Something big. “Okay,” you whisper.

He gives you a pleased look. He slides his hand down his thigh. Your gaze drops to his underwear. To the tent, steadily forming.

“Eyes on me sweetheart,” He chuckles, making you jump. Your eyes snap back to his. “Get undressed.”

You shiver, nodding shakily as you yank your top off. You nearly trip over yourself as you tug your pants off, tossing them somewhere across the room. “This too?” You breathlessly gesture at yourself, your underwear.

“Mm-mm. Not yet.” He smiles. “C’mere,” he holds his hands out to you.

You step between his spread knees, your hands falling to his shoulders. His rough hands slide down your body, along the dip of your waist, over the curve of your ass. You arch into his touch, a flush rushes up your neck as you stare down at him.

He leans forward, holding your gaze as he presses a gentle kiss to your stomach. His palms curl around the backs of your thighs, his fingers pressing firmly into the soft flesh. He tilts his head up, dragging a soft kiss along the swell of your breasts.

His hands slide back up, over your shoulders. He pushes the straps back. “Now?” You whisper into the quiet air between you.

He smirks, his stubble casting a dark shadow into his smile lines. He nods, watching with his lip between his teeth as you unlatch the clasp. You drop the flimsy material to the carpet.

A warm flush burns behind your skin as you inhale a shaky breath, standing before him bare.

“Hm,” he hums softly, his large hands sliding up your stomach to gently palm your breasts. “So pretty, baby.” He presses a soft kiss to your nipple, his thumb circling the other one.

You shiver, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he swipes his tongue over the soft point. His sharp stubble drags over the tender underside of your breast. “Prettiest.”

You sink your teeth into your tongue, forcing yourself to stay quiet. Something about the quiet way he nips at your chest makes you feel breathless. Embarrassed.

“Bucky…” You pant, swallowing around your dry tongue.

“Want somethin’, baby?” he smiles as he rolls your nipple between his teeth. “Speak up.”

You tug gently on his hair. “I don’t know what I want…”

He lifts his head, a smirk curled deeply on his face. “Yeah,” he whispers, his hand cupping your jaw. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, pulling at it gently. “But you know what to do.”

You nod into his touch, sucking his thumb into your mouth. He makes a pleased sound. You slowly sink to your knees, your tongue swirling around the rough pad of his finger. He presses down on your tongue, watching the way your jaw drops.

He watches you, something dark in his eyes. Like he was seeing something you couldn’t. “‘S that feel good? Havin’ something in your mouth?”

You nod, your lashes fluttering as you lean into his large hand. “Mhm…”

His smirk twists into a dark grin, something pleased spreading across his face. He pulls his thumb from your mouth, then wipes it on your cheek. He pushes his fingers back into your hair. Your wet lips press together as your struggle for air. You blink up at him, something hot and slick pooling in your stomach.

“Show me you know how to be good.” He whispers, his nails scratching at your scalp.

You drop your head to his thigh, choking on an aroused gasp. God, you can’t catch your breath. He chuckles at you, gently petting your hair.

“Too much, baby?” He hums, his lips press together as he coos down at you.

“No- no,” you shake your head, swallowing around the lump in your throat.

“Then do as you’re told,” the command is firm, but his sweet tone softens the blow. You shiver and nod obediently, fluttering your eyes open from where your cheek is pressed to his thigh.

You pant softly, your hot breath ghosting over the aching tent in his boxers, inches from your face. You nuzzle forward, dragging your lips over his erection.

Bucky sighs above you, spurring you on.

You press a firm kiss to the shaft, his heat radiating through the fabric. You drag your tongue over the wet spot where the cloth stuck to the head. His fingers tighten in your hair.

“Such a tease,” he chuckles, shaking your head with his firm fist in your hair.

“Can I?” You whisper, your voice muffled from where you nuzzle into his bulge.

“‘F course, baby. Go ahead.” His thumb traces circles into your scalp.

Trembling hands slip under the waistband, tugging down until he lifts his hips. Your breath hitches when you free his aching erection, the length bobbing subtly, flushed a warm color.

You lean forward, sliding your tongue along the thick vein along the underside of his cock. Bucky’s abdomen visibly tenses. He huffs above you, but says nothing.

You press another soft kiss to his tip, precum staining your lips as you pull back. You glance up at him, cold blue eyes meeting yours. Your lips twitch into a cheeky smile as they wrap around the head.

His brows twitch together, his jaw clenching tight as he exhales a shuddering breath.

You suckle gently, your tongue swirling around the head before pressing into his slit. His lashes flutter as he forces himself to keep his eyes on you.

“I was right,” he whispers, using his grip on your hair to guide your head down further. “You look good with your mouth full.”

You hum, hollowing your cheeks on the way down. Bucky’s eyes roll shut, his hips gently rocking into your face. Your throat spasms around him when he presses too far, but he doesn’t seem to care.

You let your eyes fall closed, relaxing yourself as he guides you. You let him take what he wants. The dull ache in your jaw spreads, the tingle in your scalp burns as he yanks at the strands.

But you take it.

A moan falls from Bucky’s lips, the sound rough in his chest. He pants softly, rocking his hips up.

“Takin’ it so good, baby. Just like I knew you would.” He grunts, his stomach twitching as the muscles flutter. “‘Bet you take everything so well. So good for me.”

You moan around his cock, swallowing as he rolls his hips into your mouth. He chokes on a groan, his hips stuttering until he’s pressed to the back of your throat. Your throat spasms again, a wet sound falling from your lips as you struggle to breathe.

Bucky holds you there, his grip on your hair tugging gently as he forces you to kiss his pelvis.

He watches you with a satisfied smirk as you struggle, your eyes rolling shut. “‘Look so cute like this,” he hums, tilting his head. “All full and obedient.”

You choke, your head instinctively pushing back against his hand. Your nails scrape down his inner thighs. You gag quietly, sucking in thin wisps of air around his cock. But you don’t fight him.

Deep down you like it.

Deep down, you burn hot with shame as you press your thighs closer together.

Bucky finally pulls you back up, until only half his length rests against your tongue. You gasp greedily, your mouth falling open. You swallow around his tip, trying to gather yourself. Bucky rolls his hips, fucking his tongue over the slick expanse of your tongue.

You blink up at him, tears blurring your vision.

He grins down at you, his tongue swiping over the points of his teeth.

You watch the muscles in his stomach flutter, twitching as he drags his cock over your tongue. You pant, holding your mouth open for him as he takes what he wants.

You slowly push a trembling hand between your thighs, your fingers pressing against the soaked center of your panties.

Bucky makes a displeased noise from above you, and then he’s yanking you off his cock, a sharp tingling spreading through your scalp. You hiss, your shoulders bunching up.

“So greedy,” he whispers as he kicks your hand away from your thighs.

“Please…” You choke, wiping your tear stains on your shoulder. “Please.”

His expression easily morphs back to something pleased. Something dark. “You wanna show me how good you are, don’t you?” You nod eagerly. “Then wait to do as you’re told.” He whispers, nudging your knees apart with his foot.

“Bucky-” you whine, your lashes fluttering shut as he rubs circles into your throbbing scalp.

“Shh,” he whispers, pulling his hand from your hair. “C’mere.” He gently pats his thigh. You slowly climb into his lap and slide your arms around his shoulders. He strokes a warm hand down your naked back, following the curve. He pinches your chin gently, guiding you to look at him.

“So pretty,” he mutters.

You huff quietly, leaning in to kiss him. He hums against your lips, stifling a chuckle as you take what you want. His fingers curl around your knees as he lifts you up, but you barely register it. You're too busy rutting your hips against his, sucking softly on his tongue.

He moans into your mouth, his hard cock pressed firmly between your bodies. Your stomach twists as the slick head nudges your stomach.

“Bucky,” you whisper. “Please just touch me-”

“I am touching you, baby.” He whispers, gently pressing you against the window. You huff quietly as the cold glass shocks your system. “Just relax, okay?” His palm slides down your thigh until he finds your panties. “I’ll make you feel good.”

You gasp as his fingers press over the soaked fabric sticking to your pussy. He slips his fingers beneath the thin waistband, his callouses rough against your sensitive skin.

“Yeah?” You gasp, grinding into the heel of his palm as his thumb slides through your folds. “You’re gonna-” you swallow around the choked sound that rises when Bucky pushes a finger inside your slick cunt. “You’re gonna take good care of me?”

“Mhm,” he hums, slipping another thick finger inside. “That’s right. ‘Can’t wait to fuck you to tears.” he whispers, curling his fingers against your fluttering walls.

You groan, your nails scraping down Bucky’s nape. “Oh god…”

“Shh,” he kisses your cheekbone gently, nudging your head back against the window. “Just look outside, isn’t the water pretty? Hm?”

Your lashes flutter as you press your hips against his, rolling against his aching erection. His fingers twitch inside you as he gasps, slick precum sticking to your stomach.

“I didn’t say keep your mouth shut, I asked you a question,” he whispers, his stubble burning against your cheek. “Isn’t the water pretty?”

You nod quickly, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “Yes- sorry, yes.”

He smiles against your jaw, his breath tickling against your flesh. “Good girl.” He pulls his slick hand from your panties and wraps his large fingers around his throbbing erection. You suck in a shaky breath as you look down between you, watching as Bucky pumps his cock.

His flushed tip peaks through his fist, his slit dribbling precum before he swipes his thumb over the head. He squeezes on the upstroke, soft groans tumbling from his lips.

You watch as Bucky yanks aside your panties, thumbing at your pretty pussy. You gulp, shifting against him as he nudges you with the head of his cock.

“Greedy little thing,” he chuckles, rolling his hips into yours. You choke on a whine as he slowly fills you, his thick length stretching you open.

At some point, your eyes flutter closed, your body humming with electricity as you slowly sink down on his cock. He groans into your neck, his hands gripping you close.

Something about the firm snap of his hips against yours, the mind numbing pleasure, the choked sounds Bucky makes, it all swirls together into a mess of ecstasy.

You lose yourself in the feeling, clinging to Bucky as he fucks you into the window. Outside, the world is silent, gentle waves rocking against the yacht. Outside that room, the world was oblivious to the degrading way Bucky fucked you.

Oblivious to the way you gave yourself over to him. To the humiliating way he whispered in your ear, quietly laughing at every embarrassing sound you made.

In the back of your mind you knew this was wrong. That this was dangerous. That if your father found out, you would drown in your own shame.

But you ignored that little voice in your head. Because you didn’t care. You didn’t care about the age gap, or the humiliation, or the danger. You didn’t care because it just felt so fucking good to sink down on Bucky’s cock as he whispered filth in your ear.

It felt good to pathetically beg for him to take you harder.

It felt good to let go and sob as he fucked you so hard you saw stars.

Bucky’s rough hands slide over the curve of your ass, his fingers pressing bruises into the tender flesh of your thighs. Your sweaty back presses into the cold window, the chill like heaven on your skin.

Bucky rolls his hips into yours, each thrust knocking you up the wall. He chuckles into your throat as you whine, his teeth nipping at your jaw. “‘S that feel good, baby?”

You gasp, his cock punching something tender in your stomach. “Fuck-” you whine. You knock your head back against the window, panting softly.

Bucky hooks his arms under the crooks of your knees, spreading you open for him to torment. “‘You like gettin fucked like a whore on daddy’s boat?” His tongue swipes over his lips. “Huh? ‘S it make you feel dirty?”

You choke on a sob, your eyes fluttering shut. “Bucky-” you whine.

He chuckles, dragging his tongue along your throat. “Hm? Tell me, sweetheart.”

You pant softly, sinking down on his cock. Bucky unloops a hand from your leg and slithers between you, his fingers pressing over your lower stomach. Your eyes roll back as Bucky groans into your hair. He slides his palm firmly over your lower stomach, feeling his own cock move inside you.

You roll your head back, your tear stained cheek pressed to the cold glass. Your lashes flutter against the fog your breath casts. Beyond the mind numbing pleasure, you registered the dark roll of the ocean, moonlight reflecting off the surface.

“You still in there, sweetheart?” He snickers, chewing at your earlobe. You shudder, rolling your hips against his. “Try to focus, baby.” he whispers.

You roll your head back to look at him, your fingers curling in his dark hair. A flush rises up his neck, painting his skin a warm color. His lips part around muffled groans, his brows furrowed. Blue eyes watch you with intensity, almost too much.

You shudder in humiliation, gasping quietly as Bucky pets his fingers down your stomach, his thumb brushing over your clit. “You’re so cute when you’re fucked stupid,” he grins lazily.

He swipes a stray overwhelmed tear from your cheek, then sucks it off his thumb.

You rock your hips into his, the coil in your stomach twisting tighter. Desperation flares in your chest as your second orgasm draws closer, just within reach.

“I-I can’t-” you whimper, locking your ankles tighter around his waist.

Bucky coos, his heavy hand petting down the side of your face. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay.” He whispers. He peppers gentle kisses against your lips, his facial hair scratching your soft skin. “You’re okay,” he slowly pumps his cock into your soaked cunt, each roll of his hips rendering himself breathless.

He pants into your mouth, his tongue pressing into yours.

“You’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart.” He whispers, palming your breast between you. You sob against his lips, pressing closer to him as you whine. He chuckles, dragging a soft kiss against the corner of your lips. “Shh, gotta stay quiet. Don’t want anyone to hear.”

You nod helplessly against him, squirming as he slows his thrusts. “I’ll be quiet, I’ll be good- I promise…” you whisper.

“That’s right,” he smiles, grinding his cock into your cunt. “Be a good girl for me and keep quiet. Wanna keep you all to myself, can’t have daddy hear his little girl sobbing over my cock.”

You choke on a moan, your stomach clenching at his words. Your walls flutter around him, making his hips stutter. “Jesus-” you gasp, rolling your head back into the window. “Please just fuck me-”

He snickers, his arms curling back under your knees as he pulls you away from the window. “I’ll take care of you, baby.” He carefully lays you back on his bed, then pushes your arms up over your head. “You just need to be a good girl and take it.”

He snaps his hips forward, catching you off guard. You make a punched out noise as he presses your wrists into the blankets and fucks you into the mattress.

He licks over your lips as you pant, jaw slack. You press your heels into his lower back, pulling him closer.

“That’s it, just take it.”

“Get your ass up, James, we’re going fishing!” The door rattled heavily under the beat of your fathers fist.

You startled awake, your eyes snapping open. Bucky flinched on top of you, his head snapping up from where he was nuzzled into your neck. You twitch, blinking groggily against the sunlight streaming through the window.

Bucky’s large hands skate down your naked body, his palm resting against your ass.

The door rattles again, your father knocking repeatedly. “We're in the middle of the ocean, get off your ass!”

“I’m comin’!” Bucky shouts, wiping a hand down his face. “Let me get up, asshole.”

Your father laughs heartily as he walks down the hall. Bucky drops his head back against your chest, his lips grazing your collar bone. He sighs, grumbling as he curls his arms back around your body. You grunt as he pulls you close, rolling almost on top of you.

You squirm, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. Your leg shifts where it's thrown over Bucky’s hip, your arms stretch over his shoulders.

Bucky yawns as he rubs his face against your shoulder, his stubble stinging your sensitive flesh. “G’morning…”

You swallow, your nails raking down his spine. “Morning, handsome.”

You feel him smile against your neck, a soft chuckle vibrating from his chest to yours. He pushes up, leaning over you with a lazy grin. He strokes your side, his fingers dancing over your breast to slide up your jaw. “Aren’t you pretty,” he hums, leaning down to peck your lips.

You tilt up into him, your lips dragging over his tenderly. A soft blush flushes your skin, staining you with your own embarrassment. When he pulls back you finally get a good look at him, with his messy bed head and soft blue eyes, crows feet curling at the corners as he smiles.

Words are lost on you for a moment.

A knock cuts through the silence again, thumping against the door. “I’m making breakfast, are you coming up? The girls are still asleep, so it’ll just be us and the guys.” Your dad must be making his rounds, waking up his friends, since he circled back.

You flinch again, cringing quietly. Bucky bites back a smile as he pushes his fingers into your hair, raking back the tangled strands. You involuntarily lean into his hand, purring beneath his firm touch.

“If you’re not getting up, I’m waking up the girls and you’ll be the only one left out.” Your father grumbles from the hall.

You flinch, your body going rigid. “How am I getting out of here?” You whisper, dragging your nails down his chest.

Bucky winces, his fingers pressing into your nape. “Jesus, man, I’m coming- pull the stick outta your ass,” he shouts over his shoulder, leaning up a little further.

You shamelessly peak down between your bodies, ogling the muscles in his abdomen as they tense.

“Alright, alright, then I’m going up. Wake up the girls when you’re done, okay?”

“Fine,” Bucky responds, listening for footsteps. When he finally turns back, he catches you staring down at him. A sly smirk slips across his lips. “Eyes are up here, doll.”

Your gaze snaps up to his, suppressing a smile with your teeth. “Oops.”

He shakes his head at you with mock exasperation. He clicks his tongue at you. “Nasty girl,” he snickers, diving down to sink his teeth into your shoulder. You giggle, choking on a gasp.

“Hey- I don’t want to bruise!” You squirm, stifling your laughter in his hair.

He soothes over the bite with his tongue, licking gently over his teeth marks. “You’re already painting half your body with makeup, what's a few more?”

You tug at his hair. “It makes my life a whole lot harder,” you laugh.

He rolls his eyes playfully, leaning back over you. “Fine, but you should have reminded me last night,” he hums, kissing over your purpling hickeys. “I count two more, today.”

You groan, twisting beneath Bucky. “Jesus- my neck is off limits now.” You huff, covering your face with your hands.

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head. “Nope, not happening. I like that part.”

You roll your eyes, grinning to yourself. “Shut up-”

He snickers, shifting between your legs. The sheets fall by your feet as he sits back on his ankles, your thighs spread over his. You shudder, instinctively reaching to cover yourself. Bucky catches your squirming hands, his hand wrapping around your wrists.

“Ah-ah,” he grins, sliding a palm down your thigh, over your hip bone. “I like lookin’ at you.” He holds your wrists to your lower stomach. “I haven’t gotten to do that enough.” He mutters, his gaze wandering over your exposed body.

“Bucky-” you pant, your cheeks heated in embarrassment. “We should- we have to go, my dad’s gonna come down to find us-”

He smiles shamelessly at your subtly squirm. His palm strokes over the notch of your hip, over the dip of your waist, along the underside of your breast.

“Shouldn’t be mentioning him in here, remember?” He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Especially not when you're naked in my bed.”

You groan, tugging against the hold he has on your wrists. “You brought him up like a thousand times last night-”

He snickers at you, leaning down to lick a kiss into your mouth. You groan, tilting your chin up into him. He smirks, finally releasing your wrists.

“Alright, fine.” He huffs, pulling back. You swallow a disappointed sigh as he rolls out of bed. You watch him as he finds his suitcase where it's propped on a small sofa. He digs through it until he finds his boxers.

You sigh as you watch them slide over the curve of his ass, shielding him from your prying gaze. He glances back at you, a grin curling at the corners of his lips.

“Perv,” he tugs out a shirt and tosses it to you.

You yank it over your head, shielding yourself. “You’re one to talk.”

You crawl out of bed, picking your clothes up piece by piece.

“That’s for sure,” he mutters, staring at you ass as the shirt rides up when you bend.

You straighten quickly, tugging the hem down. “You’re definitely the perv.” You chuckle, moving towards the door. “An old perv.”

He smacks your ass as he follows you to the door, making you jump. “Shut your mouth,” he huffs, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder. You lean back against him, swallowing a sigh.

He nips at your jaw, his fingers tickling your hip. You roll your head back against his shoulder. “I should go…”

“Mhm, you should.” He whispers, pecking a dark bruise along your neck.

You clench your teeth and pull out of his grip. “I should,” you blink through your haze. Without looking back, you creak open the door and peek down the hall. “It’s clear,” you whisper, turning back to him. “I’ll see you at breakfast?”

He nods, stroking his knuckles down your cheek. “Mhm, sounds good.” He leans down and kisses you. You sigh against his mouth, rocking on your heels. “I’ll see you then, sweet girl.” He whispers against your lips.

You shiver, pulling back. “Mhm,” you yank the door open and slip into the hall, breathless.

When you finally get back to your room, Natasha is there waiting- already in her bikini and lacy cover-up. When you turn to face her, wearing only Bucky’s shirt and a handful of bruises, she grins.

“You better tell me every last fucking detail.” She drops her phone. “But only after you shower and clean all of him off of you-” she waves a hand at you.

You choke on a laugh. “For sure,” you drop your clothes. “And trust me-” you glance back at her, a hand on the bathroom doorknob. “There’s a lot of him on me.”

She grimaces, shaking her head at you. “Disgusting, get in there.”

You snicker and shut yourself in the bathroom. You make quick work of your shower after catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; hair knotted to all hell, neck littered in hickeys and love bites, lips swollen and flushed.

By the time you were clean and dressed in your bathing suit, Natasha was nearly asleep with boredom. And by the time you were finished telling her about your long, long, night of sexual escapades, you were starving.

“Can-” you spoke through laughter, “can we please go to breakfast now?”

Nat sighs from where she’s spread out on her bed. “Fine- I can imagine you're fucking starved after all-” she gestures between your legs. “That.”

“Jesus,” you roll your eyes, grabbing your bag of sunblock and towels. “Let's go, once we eat we can go swimming.” You bounce your shoulders in excitement.

Natasha follows you into the hall, smacking your ass as you climb the stairs. “You just wanna get out there so you can see him.”

“Shut it, I don’t want anyone to hear you,” you shove her with your bag. She shrugs as she leads you into the first level cabin.

“Whatever.”

The kitchen smells of bacon and toast when you both finally enter. You find your step-mother smacking a piece of bacon from your dads hand while they quietly bicker about his health.

“Eat some eggs first- you know what the doctor said about your cholesterol.” She huffs, hands on her hips.

Your dad peaks over his wife's shoulder and spots you, relief flooding his expression. “Hon, thank god, come here and let her fret over your health.” He gestures to your step-mom.

You roll your eyes and lean against the counter, plucking the bacon from your dads hand. “Don’t think I’m on your side,” you take a bite. “Eat some fruit or something- did you chop the fruit?” You ask Claire. She nods, turning back to your dad. “See, she even chopped you fruit.” You tsk.

Natasha busies herself with filling glasses with juice and iced coffee. “I don’t think you’re gonna win this one, Mr. L/n.”

You snicker, grabbing your bag to follow Nat. “Just eat your breakfast, dad, then you can go fish, or whatever.”

You step out onto the deck, squinting as the first rays of sunlight hit your skin. The rest of the men stand by the steps leading into the ocean, leaning against the railing as they sip on their coffee.

You snag a large chunk of watermelon off the large table that stretches across the sundeck, littered with plates of food. You pop it in your mouth, humming as the juice spreads over your tongue.

Your wandering gaze flickers over to where Bucky leans over the railing to get a view of fish swimming past. You look away quickly as your dad steps outside, fishing gear in hand.

“Can you get my back?” Natasha shakes her sunscreen at you.

You swallow hard and snag the bottle from her hand. “Turn,” you flick the cap open.

As the sun climbs higher, you find yourself distracted by the beautiful open ocean.

You laugh over breakfast on the deck- fruit, pastries, and maybe something savory- then both you and Nat stretch out, feeling the warmth of the morning sun sink into your skin.

As the first sheen of sweat begins to stick to your skin, you drag Nat from her cushioned lounge chair. Your step-mother films you both as you dive off the stern, splashing into icy water. You release an undignified shriek when you pierce the surface, a chill zips down your spine.

Natasha curses, shivering as she rakes her hair back.

You laugh like kids, splashing and floating along the surface- only taking strides back to the stern when the waves pull you out.

The sea is refreshing, cradling you in its endless embrace. Around you, the yacht bobs gently, anchored on open water with no one else in sight. The water is unbelievably clear, glowing turquoise near the surface and fading to a deep sapphire below. Sunlight dances on the waves like scattered glass.

A soft breeze brushes your shoulders, the sun warms your face. Your laughter carries across the water, mixing with the sound of waves against the hull and a distant seagull’s cry.

When you get tired, you lounge on the floating mat tethered to the back of the boat, bobbing gently, talking about anything and everything.

You stare up at the blue, cloudless sky, Natasha's voice mixing with the sounds of waves, and gentle music floating from the deck speakers.

Above you, you hear your father shouting laughter with his friends.

You abandon Natasha on the float as you roll back into the water, finding your own blow up to aid you as you flutter your feet.

You glance up to find sharp blue eyes tracking you.

Bucky leans against the yacht railing, watching you with a smirk as he sips from his beer. You try not to writhe beneath his weighted gaze. Try to focus on swimming with your friend, enjoying the sun, and snacking on fruit.

But something about that smirk, those sharp blue eyes, the grays spotting his hair. God, he set you on fire.

Your dad was busy on the other side of the boat, patiently struggling with the fish. He decided to fish at a distance for safety reasons, of course, as you and Nat swam.

But you were more thankful because it gave you the ability to freely stare at Bucky.

Natasha floats, her chunky sunglasses protecting her eyes. “If something tries to bite me, please stab it.”

“Thanks for the reminder, I’ll just get my harpoon.” You chuckle, leaning over your float as you gently kick your legs.

“Just put your man on watch,” Nat slides her sunglasses up.

You flinch, sending a splash her way. She snickers quietly, steering her float further out. You glance back up to find Bucky still watching you, his head tilted slightly.

You can barely remember your original plans for this trip. Probably soaking in the sun, reading on the deck, and dancing to overly loud music before bed. But now, all you want to do is huddle up in Bucky’s room and drool on his cock.

You slowly swim over to the stern, only a few feet away from where Bucky stands. “Gonna get in, or ‘re you just gonna stare?”

He takes a slow swig of his beer. “I’m feelin’ pretty good just staring.”

You bite back a grin. “Creep.”

He lifts a brow, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. “Watch it.”

“Why? Whatcha gonna do?” You rest your head against the gently bobbing deck, salt water sticking to your skin.

Just as he opens his mouth to respond, your father shouts his name from across the boat. He sighs, shrugging. “Just keep guessing.” He mutters, pushing off the railing.

You huff in disappointment as you're figuratively blue balled by your dad.

“You’re a dirty freak,” Natasha shouts from where she’s floating.

You snicker, pushing off from the dock. “Oh, I know.”

The sun has just dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a sky streaked with soft orange and pink. The ship is anchored in calm water, and warm lights glow along the deck. Dinner has just wrapped up- plates pushed aside, half-eaten desserts, and cocktails still in hand. The smell of grilled seafood and lemon lingers in the air.

“Bullshit!” You slap your cards down on the table, groaning loudly. “This game sucks.”

“You need to learn to play poker, hun.” Your dad chuckles, peeking at his cards before picking at his plate.

“Sorry I don’t have thirty years of experience.” You huff, sitting back in your seat.

Bruce glances over Everett’s shoulder at his cards. “I’m with your kid, pick a new game.” He mutters, squinting at his little deck. Everett elbows the man in the side.

Bucky chuckles at the men as they bicker, his gaze shifting to yours over his cards.

“I’ve been trying to teach you for years, hon. You never wanna come over for game nights,” your dad complains around his mouthful of food.

You roll your eyes. “Because your game nights are game nights. I don’t wanna sit there while you and your boys shout at the tv. Besides, I’m usually working.” You laugh, picking a cherry from your cocktail.

“I thought restaurant schedules were flexible!” He crossed his arms.

You chuckled, sipping from your fruity drink as the gentle breeze rocked through the air. “They are, but you still have to request your days off.”

“You’re a server?” Bucky’s voice cuts through the lighthearted banter, making your stomach drop. He takes a long swig of beer, watching you over the bottle.

You swallow, a flush rising up your neck as you nod. “Mhm, for two years. Nat and I work together.”

“Do you like it?” He tilts his head, his usually intense gaze softer now as he watches you.

You shrug, your gaze nervously darting away from his. “I do, kinda.”

“I keep telling her to go back to school, but I think she’s too scared.” Your dad butts in.

You flinch, your wide eyes snapping to your father. “Dad, that is not true-”

“Kinda is,” Natasha mutters from behind you, where she’s picking through dinner in the kitchen.

“Quit eavesdropping and just join the conversation like a normal person, please.” You shout, avoiding Bucky’s gaze as he watches you.

“So you never went to school, or you left school?” Bucky asks, resting his beer bottle against his inner thigh. You intentionally force yourself to not look at the delicious way he man-spreads.

“I dropped out-” you cringe, blinking up at him.

“She panicked.”

“Dad-” you groan.

“What? You did- you had a whole thing and dropped out. It’s normal,” he shrugs.

You turn back to Bucky, his patient gaze making you flush. “I didn’t have a whole thing, I just wasn’t sure if I was going down the right path. Now can we stop talking about college? I left so I didn’t have to think about it.”

Bucky smiles gently at the frown that curls at the corner of your lips. “It’s fine,” he chuckles. “There’s nothing wrong with rethinking things.”

You glance back up at him through your lashes, chewing at your cheek. “Yeah?”

He nods silently, tilting his head at you, like he wants to hear more.

“Well-” you swallow, “I like what I’m doing now. So that’s what matters.”

“Hey,” your dad throws up his hands. “I never said that was a bad thing. I just think it’s never too late to go for a degree.”

You roll your eyes at him, downing the rest of your drink. You couldn’t say his insistence was wrong. He came from an experienced point of view- he spent years on his degree, then climbed the corporate ladder until he got where he was. And where he was, was on his own yacht.

It wasn’t a bad deal.

It just wasn’t for you.

“Your age is for exploring new things,” Bucky shrugs at you, sipping his drink.

You lift a subtle brow at him, your stomach turning. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he nods, smothering his smirk. “I tried all sorts of things when I was your age.” He rolls his neck, wincing when it pops.

Your dad groans, waving his hand at Bucky. “Don’t encourage her- nothing you got up to is something I want her exploring.”

You have to press your lips to a thin line to keep yourself from laughing. Something vaguely smug flashes behind Bucky’s eyes. He tosses his hands up in defense.

You dad smacks a kiss to the top of your head, his arm looped around Claire's waist. “Goodnight, honey.” He sings, following his wife inside. You wave, watching them go.

Dinner and games led into drinks, which led to your dad singing on a table. And after an awful three songs, your step mother dragged him off to bed. Everyone retreated inside after that, as the sun sank below the earth, submerging the ocean in a chill.

But you stayed.

So, curled up on the sofa, you stare out at the sea. It's difficult to tell where the water ends and the sky begins, without the bright sun casting its rays.

But the cold moon illuminates the night with a silver glow, making the waves sparkle like stars.

The water is darker than you thought possible- inky, deep, and alive in its own way. Sometimes it’s perfectly still, like black glass. Other times it ripples with silver where the moonlight touches it. Fish darts just below the surface, like shadows scattering.

A gentle breeze rustles your hair, racing shivers down your spine as you pull your knees to your chest. You listen to the soft waves rock against the hull in a gentle rhythm. Like the sea was breathing, beating like a heart.

A thin blanket drops around your shoulders, making you jump. You look to the right to find Bucky rounding the couch, then plop down beside you.

“Hey,” you pull the blanket around your body, shielding your skin from the chill.

“Hi,” he smiles, propping his arm up behind you. You blink at him for a nervous moment, feeling at a loss for words every time you’re alone with him. He just sighs, his fingers brushing your cheek to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You gulp, hugging your knees tighter to your chest. You instinctively glance back to the cabin, where a single light glows in the kitchen. “Someone could see…” You whisper.

“They’re all in bed. Natasha’s the only one roaming the kitchen,” he hums without tearing his gaze from your face.

“Are you sure?” You glance back up at him, your cheeks dusting a warm pink as his knuckle strokes your jaw.

“Mhm, I had to help Claire tuck your dad in.” He chuckles softly.

You chew at your lip, nodding faintly. “Ah.”

“Not ready to turn in yet?” he tilts his head at you.

You shrug, looking back out at the water. “Nah, I wanted to look at the stars for a bit. My favorite part of being on a boat is seeing the sky at night.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head back to look up at the moon. “It’s pretty.” He mutters quietly.

You take a second to stare at his profile, quiet except for the gentle waves. “Mhm.”

“I was lookin’ forward to this trip for the same reason.” He counts the brightest stars. “Sure wasn’t expecting you, though.” He glances at you with a smile.

You huff, looking away from him. “That’s for sure.” You shook your head. “How did you two even meet?”

“I met your dad when I was movin’ into the neighborhood,” he chuckles, his fingers playing with your hair. “He came by and invited me for a barbeque.” You listened silently, shivering when he lightly scratched your scalp. “He started tellin’ me how he wanted to get in shape, so I invited him to join me on my jogs before work. That was about three years ago, now.”

You roll your head to look at him, biting back a smirk. “Speaking of work, my dad lives in a nice ass neighborhood. What do you do?”

“Mechanical engineer,” he hums, his gaze tracing your features.

You gape at him, shaking your head lightly. “Jesus, so you design machines, and stuff?”

“Mechanical systems.” He nods. “Trains, mostly,” his thumb grazes your nape.

“Damn,” you whisper, self consciousness prickling at your skin.

“It’s nothin’ special.” He tilts his head at you. “Tell me about you.” His blunt words make you shiver.

“You heard earlier that I’m a server,” you huff, looking out at the water. “There’s not much else I’m doing…”

“I doubt that,” He makes a face, his lips slightly pouty. He leans in, pressing into your space. “Tell me more,” he whispers, brushing his palm over your hair. “I wanna know.”

Your breath hitches in your chest. You glance back at the cabin in paranoia. “Bucky-” He gently pushes you until you rest on your back, your knees bent.

Bucky leans over you, tenderly brushing the hair from your face. “What?” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “I only know one way to open you up.” He kisses between your breasts, his lips trailing over your bikini top to your stomach. “Tell me more.”

You swallow, your legs making way for his body as he trails down to your hips. “I um-” You stammer, glancing down at him as he unties your bathing suit bottoms.

“Tell me about college,” he tugs the last tie free, letting your bottoms fall open. You suck in a tight breath, your knees instinctively wanting to close. He nudges them open.

“I dropped out,” you gulp, dropping your head back against the cushions.

“Why?” He presses a soft kiss to your core, his stubble making your shiver.

“I didn’t know what was doing-” He spreads you open with two fingers. “I didn’t even know if I liked what I was studying anymore-” you gasp when he licks a stripe from your cunt to your clit with the flat of his tongue. “And I was just sick of school…”

“Mhm,” he hums, stroking his tongue through your folds. “So what do you want?” He mutters against you.

“I don’t-” Your lashes flutter as he sucks gently on your clit. “I don’t know-” you gasp. “I like serving, for now…”

“Why do they think you’re scared?” Bucky’s voice is muffled as he kisses your soaked entrance.

“Because I am- a little…” You try to roll your hips into him, but he keeps you pinned down. This is his game. “I’m scared I’ll choose the wrong path and it’ll be too late. Or that I’ll realize down the line-” His tongue dips into your soaked cunt, fluttering slowly. You groan quietly. “-Realize down the line that I wanna do something else,” you continue breathlessly.

“Mm,” he hums quietly. He releases your clit from his lips, pulling back with a slick pop. “There’s no ‘too late,’ sweetheart. You can always change your mind about things,” he looks up at you, watching your face as he strokes circles over your clit with his thumb. “Use this time to explore different jobs,” he kisses your inner thigh gently. “Then go back to school.”

You nod shakily. “Yeah,” you pant. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking…maybe I’ll just start with taking a few classes…”

“There you go,” he whispers, pressing a wet kiss to your pussy. You pant as he strokes his tongue through your folds, dipping inside your entrance, then humming against your clit.

Your hands find his hair, needily tugging at the strands as he continues his slow pace, and eager interrogation. You answer every small question about yourself, eyes closed and toes curled. You feel him smile against you, like a cheeky bastard.

When your thighs finally twitch around his head, from where he folded your legs over his shoulders, he slides his hand up to cover your mouth.

You cling to his arm, panting roughly against his palm as he silences you. Your orgasm washes over you silently, sparks flying behind your vision. Bucky guides you through it, sucking on your clit with gentle pressure.

When you’re finally too sensitive to continue, he presses a soft kiss to your cunt, then pulls back. You’re left gasping for breath, staring at the sparkling sky.

Bucky chuckles to himself as he sits up, carefully tying your bottoms back up. He leans back against the couch, rolling his neck as he drags your legs to rest over his lap. You shiver when you hear the man lick his lips.

“This is fucking crazy…” You huff, a lazy grin on your lips.

“I know,” he chuckles, tracing slow lines along your knee.

You swallow around your heavy tongue. “Think it’s a bad idea?”

He shrugs, his thumb rubbing over an old scar on your thigh. “I don’t really care.”

“Me neither...” You snicker.

From the moment you roll out of bed, the day starts bathed in warmth. It feels like summer as a child, unhurried, with excitement hanging around every corner.

Natasha left you at breakfast, reading on the bridge-deck with her headphones in. You didn’t mind, though, since your dad made it clear he wanted to spend the day with you.

So as the sun climbs higher in the sky, your dad drags two paddle boards down from their mounts, and begs you to follow him into the water.

You launch from the stern with a splash of enthusiasm, your bodies slick with sunscreen as you straddle the boards. The boards glide easily over the surface, and soon it’s just the two of you, standing tall, paddles dipping rhythmically into the sea.

You paddle side by side, sometimes drifting apart, then regrouping. There's light conversation and long stretches of companionable silence- just the sound of the paddles in the water and the occasional seabird overhead.

At one point your dad loses balance and topples into the depths. He doesn’t allow you to laugh for long, though, when he tips your board and forces you to fall in after him.

Later, you both take a break, lying flat on your boards, drifting under the sun, arms trailing in the cool water. You talk about old vacations, future plans, and share quiet thoughts that only seem to come out when the world slows down.

Eventually, you head back toward the yacht, feeling sun-warmed and a little tired in the best way. Bruce helps your dad load the boards back onto the ship while you go to find Nat for food.

Cold drinks and a light dinner wait on the deck- fresh fruit, grilled skewers, and icy bubbling drinks.

When you finally sink into a seat on the bridge deck, a towel hugging your body, your stomach is rolling with hunger. Loud voices chatter over one another as everyone joins the table.

You feel a warm tingle at the base of your spine when Bucky pulls out the seat beside you. He’s distracted in bickering conversation with Bruce, throwing sarcastic remarks back and forth.

You can’t even tell if he meant to sit beside you.

“Honestly, the best part of this trip is the food- our kitchen back home still smells like charcoal from the last time Y/n tried to cook.” Natasha snickers, loading up her plate.

“Okay-” You roll your eyes. “I burnt something one time and you won’t let it go.”

“I don’t know, I’m with Natty on this one,” your father grins, biting grilled shrimp from his skewer. “Remember when you torched Claire's new pans when you visited for thanksgiving last year?”

Your eyes bulge from your head. “That wasn’t even me!” You argue, looking at your stepmother. “And I apologized for that-”

Your words die on your tongue as Bucky’s deep laughter drifts beside you. The low timber of the sound makes your skin feel heated.

“Sure it wasn’t you, man?” Everett squints from the end of the table. “You always find someone else to blame when your barbeques go awry.”

Your father scoffs dramatically. You tune out of the conversation as you watch Bucky take a long swig from his beer in your peripheral. Natasha watches you two with a smug look. You suck in a sharp breath, steadying yourself.

“I’m telling you, dad’s the one that ruined those pans.” You force a laugh, stifling a shiver as Bucky lowers his drink to the table, the back of his hand nudging yours.

“Maybe the both of you can’t cook.” Bucky suggests, looking to Claire for evidence. She nods with a cheeky smile.

You barely hear it. Bucky presses his glass bottle against your knuckles. You swallow, your stomach turning as you slip your fingers around the glass. The perspiration feels slick against your palm.

You watch your father bicker with his friends as you carefully pull Bucky’s beer from his hand. You take a slow swig, your stomach turning at the absurdity of how dangerous this feels.

You swallow the cold liquid, your tongue swiping over the rim when you spill a drop. Bucky’s knee presses to yours beneath the table, the pressure steady and heavy.

Your free hand slips beneath the table to tug at his swim trunks, as a warning or plea, you don’t know. He doesn't retract his knee. In fact, he presses closer, sitting up a little further in his seat to pick at some fruit.

“If I can’t cook, it’s because of dad.” You chime in finally, setting the beer back on the glossed table.

Bucky easily plays nonchalant, barely acknowledging your fingers' gentle trail along his thigh.

Your father rolls his eyes with a groan, waving his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah.”

You chuckle, finally dragging food onto your plate. You withdraw your hand and let your towel drop behind you, salt still scenting your skin.

As dinner continues, the sun finally dips just below the horizon, casting a warm afterglow across the deck. Lanterns and soft string lights flicker to life above the dining table, and a gentle breeze carries the scent of the sea mixed with grilled herbs and citrus.

Everyone’s gathered around the table on the aft deck- sun-kissed and slightly salty from the day’s swimming and laughter.

As cool air settles over the ocean, your father suggests settling in for a movie in the lounge. A murmur of agreement spreads through the table, and soon everyone’s rising. You take one last long sip from your fruity drink and stand.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom, but I’ll meet you in there,” you mutter to Nat, letting her take your towel as she heads inside.

The nearest bathroom is on the upper deck, so you jog upstairs and go about your business. After drying your hands, you barely crack the door open before someone’s pushing inside.

“What-” You stumble back, your words fizzling to silence once Bucky clicks the door shut behind him. “Oh-” you whisper, gasping quietly as his hands slide down your waist.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he mutters, lifting you onto the polished counter. Your knees fall open on instinct as he steps into your space. Your head spins from his sudden actions. “Did ya have fun today?” He leans in, carefully pushing your wet hair back.

“Uh-” You gasp, barely able to catch your breath as Bucky drags a soft kiss over your lips. You sigh into him, squirming beneath needy hands. “I did-” you roll your head back against the mirror, your fingers pressing into the firm muscle of his shoulders.

He smiles, dragging his knuckles down your waist. “Mhm?” He drags you closer to the edge of the counter, pulling your body against his. You groan as Bucky presses his hips forward, the tent in his shorts dragging over your inner thigh.

“Jesus-” You whine, submitting to the rough kiss he plants on your lips.

You barely saw him throughout the day, busy swimming and indulging in the open waters. You could barely catch your breath enough to ask what had gotten him so worked up.

You pant into Bucky’s mouth, sucking his tongue into yours. Your wandering hands slide down his stomach. You slip a hand into his trunks.

“Fuck-” he groans, his forehead knocking to yours as you wrap your fingers around his erection.

“Yeah?” You swallow, swiping a drop of precum from his flushed tip.

He rolls his hips into your hand, pressing bruising kisses to your lips. “C’mon,” he pants, urging you to continue.

You greedily fist his cock, squeezing on the upstroke, his slick head leaking against your palm. He moans against your lips, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter. You swallow his choked sounds as you stroke his throbbing length.

He huffs, dropping his head to your shoulder. “That’s it,” he groans, his fists white knuckling the counter. “Just like that-”

“Yeah?” You whisper, your warm breath fanning his flushed ear. You pull your hand out for a second, spit in your palm, then slip back into his pants. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his aroused whine, his cock twitching as his abs flutter.

Your spit slicked palm slides back over his erection, your thumb digging gently into his slit.

“Fuck-” he groans, his hips twitching into your fist. “We don’t have much time-”

“I know,” you gasp, fisting the swollen head of his cock. “I’ve got you, James.” You whisper, biting back a laugh when Bucky chokes.

“Shit-” he presses his nails into your hip.

He lifts his head, moaning into your mouth as he smothers you in a kiss. You nip gently at his lip, stroking your tongue over his. He swallows a choked whine as you roll your thumb over his tip. You pump his cock in quick strokes, maintaining a steady pace as his length twitches.

His stomach clenches as the coil twists tight. He groans against your tongue as he spills over your knuckles, rutting his hips into your fist. You continue to slowly stroke his twitching cock, spreading his cum over the length.

He sighs in contentment, his lashes fluttering as you guide him into familiar overstimulation. He whines against your lips, his breath hitching as he rides the wave into pain.

You only release him when his hips instinctually twitch back.

You pull your hand from his pants, your searching gaze finding his. He blinks up at you, licking over his lips as he leans back enough to see you.

“‘Did so good,” he whispers, dragging his knuckles down your cheek. You smile pleasantly, leaning back against the mirror.

“Yeah?” You wipe your hand off on the embroidered towel hanging from the wall.

“Mhm,” he pecks your jaw gently. He pulls back after a second of peppering kisses along your neck. You watch him yank the small towel down to clean himself up. “Thank you,” he whispers against your lips, dropping a gentle kiss to them.

You shiver, arching into him needly. “No problem…”

He drops the hand towel into the trash by the toilet. His calloused fingers slide around your waist, his arms locking around your back. You stare up at him silently for a moment, your urgency dying as you settle in his hold.

“What got you so worked up?” You whisper, your cheeks dusting pink as he strokes your spine with practiced ease. As if this was normal. As if this was something he could get used to.

“You look good walking away,” he mutters with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, dropping your head to his shoulder in embarrassment. “There's no way we’re not getting caught…”

“Not with that attitude,” he chuckles, lifting you off the counter. He sets you back on the ground, slowly releasing you. You sigh, pulling back from him. With only a hint of shame, you turn your back to him and wash your hands again.

He watches you fondly in the mirror, though you don’t notice, too busy trying to hide your face.

“You go out first,” he tells you, nodding to the door.

You slip out of the bathroom and make your way unsteadily towards the lounge. Everyone seems to still be settling in when you get there, arguing over snacks and movie choices.

You sink onto a sofa beside Nat, curling beneath the blanket. Natasha stares holes into the side of your head, a sly smirk twitching at her lip.

“Are you serious?” She whispers into your hair.

You roll your lip between your teeth, watching as Bucky enters the room silently. He glances at you once before settling beside Bruce on the sofa parallel to yours.

“Don’t.” You huff, embarrassed by your own depraved actions.

“Jesus, you’re barely gonna be walking by the time we dock.” She whispers, nudging you roughly.

You whip your head to the side, wordlessly telling her to shut up. She snickers at you as the movie begins.

The next night you find yourself back at Bucky’s door.

After a long day of lazing in the sun, you feel bone tired and relaxed. But that didn’t stop the itch beneath your skin, like a craving. You felt his eyes on you throughout the day, careful and watching. You felt the weight, the unspoken words.

You watched him from the sun deck, where you lounged with a sunscreen stained book, as he dived off the stern of the ship. You watched the muscles ripple in his back as he took long strokes.

You watched the water drip and collect in the dips of his muscles, streaking down his chest. You couldn’t help but feel like a dirty voyeur. But every time he looked up and caught your gaze, you knew he thrived beneath your watchful eye.

So now you stand in the hall, knocking gently at his door.

And when he finally opens the door and pulls you inside, you know you’re in for it.

“Fuck-” you sob, your spine arching off the bed as you writhe in overstimulation. You yank helplessly at dark locks of hair, your thighs twitching around Bucky’s head. “I can’t- I can’t…” You gasp, tears sliding down your cheeks.

You don’t know how much time has passed. It doesn’t matter. You’re lost in him.

Bucky groans throatily between your legs, his tongue lazily stroking over your clit. His rough hands press gently over your lower stomach, his large arms locked around your thighs.

Your nails drag roughly over his scalp. Your feet kick helplessly over the man's shoulders. “Please-” you tremble, your hips squirming against the sheets.

Bucky laughs at you, making you sob harder, as he sucks softly on your clit.

Your eyes roll back as he drags another torturous orgasm out of you. Your toes curl so tight your leg starts to cramp. You nearly choke as your lungs refuse to expand, too breathless, too lost. “Bucky please-”

Bucky finally pulls back with a slick pop, his hot breath coasting over your sensitive core as he catches his breath. “Keep still, sweetheart.”

You shudder, your eyes rolling open as you blink down at him. Your whole body tremors beneath his touch, goosebumps trailing over your skin. “Bucky-” you pant, your fingers tight around locks of his hair.

He chuckles at your loss of words, his lips dragging carefully over your inner thigh. “You’re doin’ such a good job, baby.” He whispers, his tongue soothing over old bitemarks.

You shake your head helplessly, letting it roll back against the pillows. “I can’t take any more…” Your voice is raw and dry, rough from smothering your own moans for the past several hours.

“Mm,” he hums, gently kissing your cunt. “I think you can.”

You sob, your thighs clenching in an attempt to close around his head. He pets a large hand over your stomach, the touch traveling down your hip and thigh.

His finger taps your hip, wordlessly telling you to look at him. You blink through tears, staring down at him. “Do you need to stop?” His warm blue eyes stare straight through you. “‘F it’s too much, we can stop, doll.”

You groan throatily at his easy care, at the way he so sweetly takes care of you. You let his words sink in, but you already know your answer.

You shake your head.

“Words, sweetheart.” He whispers.

Your stomach flutters painfully. “I’m okay,” your voice cracks.

Bucky smiles up at you, his large palm stroking over your stomach in appreciation. “That’s my girl,” he kisses your thigh.

You choke on an overwhelmed sob, your trembling hands tightening in his hair.

He taps your thigh slowly. “Open,” his tone is soothing, but carries a commanding undertone. You slowly let your thighs loosen up from where they clench around his shoulders. “Keep your eyes on me, okay?”

You nod, shakily wiping tears from your cheek.

“Words, baby.”

“Okay,” you choke.

Bucky smirks and lowers his head once more, his tongue making slow work of circling your cunt, before dipping inside. You make a broken sound as your walls flutter around him, your stomach clenching pitifully.

Your vision blurs as you obediently watch him, tears slipping down your cheeks when he looks up to meet your gaze. He smirks against your pussy, his lips wrapping around your clit to gently suck.

Your spine arches as your body begs for reprieve, but you know there’s no end in sight.

Bucky’s determined to drag you through orgasm after orgasm, his tongue dragging lazily through your sensitive folds.

He seems at home, happily indulging in you, listening to your broken sounds. He grinds his aching cock into the mattress, his hips rolling in slow circles as rolls his tongue over your cunt.

You lose yourself in the feeling, your heels dig into his back, his lips drag sloppy kisses over your core.

You’ve never felt this way before. So worshiped. So devoured. You’ve never felt so helpless to pleasure.

But Bucky makes you feel it. He guides you through it. He takes you apart, piece by piece, until there's nothing left. Nothing but your stuttering breath and trembling body.

And to your deep shock, he seems just as lost as you. His fingers press bruises into your skin as he clings to you. Rough, throaty sounds rumble in his chest, spilling out between slow licks. His stubble scrapes deliciously against your sensitive flesh, sharp and slick at the same time.

You watch him through blurry vision, your jaw loose as you whimper. You know you need to be quiet. You know you have to keep this secret. But you just can’t.

You’re aching, trembling, and so deeply overwhelmed.

It’s the kind of sensitivity that hurts and throbs but you just can’t stop.

Even when your body is screaming at you that you can’t go on. You make room for it, because you’ve never felt anything like this.

You’ve never felt so fucking alive.

As Bucky guides you through another quivering orgasm, you start to see stars spot your vision. Bucky finally pulls back with a slick smack of his lips- the sound makes tears slide down your cheeks. From humiliation or arousal, you don’t know.

Bucky slowly climbs up your body, caging you in. You shudder when he leans down, dragging his tongue over your cheek to lick up your tears. You let him, your eyes rolling back as you sigh.

“You did so well, sweet girl,” he whispers, peppering gentle kisses to the curve of your cheek bone. His strong hands stroke up your outer thighs in a comforting motion. “You always take it so well for me, don’t you?”

You whine, tilting your head up to kiss him. He smiled against your lips, pulling back just slightly.

“I asked you something,” he whispers.

You shiver and nod your head. “Yeah- yes…” your voice cracks, dry and rough.

He grins, finally capturing your lips in a messy kiss. You moan quietly, tasting yourself on his tongue.

Bucky presses his hips forward, his cock dragging over your slick center. You gasp, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. “If you’re too tired, I can take care of myself,” he mutters, his knuckles tracing lines down your jaw.

You blink, dumbfounded. “That was all foreplay?”

Bucky snickers silently at the look on your face. “Mhm,” he pecks a kiss to your drying tear streaks. “Why don’t you just lay back and watch? Hm? I don’t wanna overwork you,” his pecks your jaw.

You shake your head stubbornly, your tongue swiping over your dry lips. He pulls back to look at you, brow raised. “I-I want to.” You pant, sucking in thin gasps. Your trembling legs slowly wrap around his waist, your ankles locking. “I wanna take care of you too.”

Bucky groans shamelessly, his head dropping to your shoulder. You stroke your nails down his spine, trying to gather yourself. You feel like jelly. You feel broken. You feel healed.

You feel so good, you could pass out.

Cold blue moonlight streams from the window, flickering against the black ocean. Bucky plants a soft kiss on your shoulder, and when he raises his head, the light makes his eyes shine silver.

“Okay,” he whispers, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Just lay back, baby,” his lips curl in a familiar smile. “I’ll make you feel good.”

And he makes good on his promise.

He always does.

When he finally sinks into you, his hips pressed to yours, you struggle to breathe. You barely hold back overwhelmed tears as he gently grinds into you.

Bucky holds you close, almost intimately, as his arms wrap around you. He pins you in place, his hands petting you as he silently rolls his hips into yours.

You make a punch out little sound when his cock pulls out, then sinks back in. Bucky shushes you, cooing as he pets your hair.

After that, everything becomes fuzzy. Blurry. A mess of tears and choked off moans, and delicious pleasure.

The next morning, Bucky wakes first.

He curls deeper around your body, clinging to your warmth as the pesky sunlight blinds him. He sighs heavily into your shoulder, already feeling the ache from last night sinking into his bones.

He buries his face a little deeper in your hair, smelling the salt that lingers.

He can’t help but smile to himself when you huff in your sleep.

Bucky eventually pulls back and rolls out of bed, stretching out his sore muscles. He tugs the sheets back over you, where you’re curled up in his bed.

When he checks the time, it’s nearly 11am.

He rakes his hair back and tugs something on. He’s quiet as he gets ready, letting you sleep. When he steps into the hall, he can already smell breakfast.

Climbing up to the deck, barefoot and still a little groggy, he’s met with a breeze that smells of salt and coffee. The sky is wide and impossibly blue, the ocean calm, stretching out like a silk sheet all around him. Someone’s already laid out breakfast on the table under the shade of the upper deck.

The food has lost its warmth by now, but he still builds up a hefty plate.

The coffee is strong and earthy, still steaming in its carafe, and someone’s poured fresh orange juice into thick glasses beaded with condensation.

The others are lounging nearby, barefoot, sun-kissed, quiet in that contented, slow-morning kind of way. A few pages of a discarded book flutter in the breeze. The water laps gently at the hull.

“Finally, you’re up-” your father huffs as he approaches Bucky, his hands waving. “The girls are still asleep,” he complains, “but I want to go diving.”

Bucky squints up at him, chuckling as he sips on his warm coffee. “Better ask Everette. I’m goin’ back to bed,” he mutters, already turning his back.

Your father groans at him, shaking his fist. “You have the entire ocean around you, and you’re choosing to sleep.”

“Mhm,” Bucky grins, already moving down the steps. “What can I say, these are nice beds.” He grins.

He listens to your father grumble behind him as he descends the stairs. He knows your dad’s a little right, that he’s wasting time indoors when he could be swimming.

But he’d rather go back to his room, where he’ll find you bathed in the warmth of his sheets.

He slips back into the room, shutting the door with a soft click. He finds you still out cold, curled around a pillow, your hair scattered and knotted. He sets the plate of foot on the nightstand, then crouches at your bedside.

He tilts his head at you, his fingers carefully brushing locks of tangled hair from your face. Your brows pinch together as you huff, pressing your face into the pillow. He carefully strokes your cheek, his thumb tapping against your chin.

Your eyes twitch open, squinting up at him.

“Morning,” he whispers.

He watches the moment recognition sparks, the moment your cheeks dust a soft pink. “Hey,” you swallow, your voice coming out rough.

“Brought breakfast,” he nods to the plate. “You hungry?”

You nod, the sheets ruffle against your cheek. Bucky’s lips twitch in a fond smile. He pulls his hand back and moves to sit on the edge of the bed. You roll back to make room for him, dragging the sheets with you.

You groan quietly, your body aching as you stretch. “Fuck…”

“Sore?” He smirks, grabbing his coffee.

You roll your eyes, pushing up to sit. Your lower back twinges, making you shiver. “You’re too smug,” you croak. Bucky holds his mug out to you, letting you take it. You take a slow sip, sighing as the warm liquid soothes its way down your throat.

Bucky shrugs, taking a dramatic bite of bacon. “Maybe.”

You chuckle, leaning closer to pick at the plate. “What time is it?” You pop a chunk of scrambled egg in your mouth.

Bucky glanced down at his phone. “11:27pm.” He reads. “Your friend’s still asleep, your dad thinks you're still passed out with her.”

You nod, stealing the bacon from his fingers. “She’s probably up, just covering for me. My dad won’t try to go and wake me up if he thinks she’s sleeping too.”

Bucky hums in understanding, tugging his mug of coffee from where it sat between your knees. “How sweet,” he smiles.

You lower your head, hiding your blush as you chew a square of fruit. “Mhm.”

Bucky watches you with a tilted head, aware of the effect he has on you. “Do you feel okay? Anything hurt?” His kind blue eyes trail down your body, still mostly hidden by the sheet.

“I’m fine,” you shake your head. “Sore, definitely, but fine.” You huff, rolling your shoulders. “The good kind of sore.”

He smiles, his crows feet curling at the corners of his eyes. “Mkay,” he mutters, reaching out to tuck your knotted hair behind your ear.

You gulp, your gaze flickering back down to the plate. Oddly enough, the sex is what comes easy to you. All the parts in between, the care, the conversations, the sweet way he handles you, that's what makes you nervous. What catches you off guard.

You still have no idea what you're doing.

“Is my dad expecting you- I don’t want him to-”

“It’s fine, I told him I was going back to bed.” He cuts you off, easily shrugging. He pushes the coffee back into your hand as he lifts off the bed. “We have time.”

You watch him move over to his pile of clothes on the small sofa. He pulls out a black shirt and tosses it to the mattress. He turns his back, as if wordlessly telling you to put it on. You obey, your stomach twisting in knots as you tug it over your head. When you pop your head through, you find your panties dangling from Bucky’s fingers.

Your face heats as you snatch them quickly. He snickers, his head still turned.

“So you’re making excuses to spend more time with me?” You attempt to tease him.

“Mhm,” Bucky turns back to face you, flopping onto the bed once you’re dressed. “Absolutely.”

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” You groan, wrapping your arms around your body. “I don’t think my body can take any more.”

He grins, the grays in his facial hair shadowed by his smile lines. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll leave you be.” He picks a chunk of watermelon from the plate. “For now.”

You use the mug of coffee to hide your blushing grin. “I think I’ve gotten laid more in this past week than I have in my entire life.”

Bucky laughs, wiping a hand down his face. “Jesus,” he groans, his free hand dropping to your bare ankle. “I’ll take that as a good thing.”

“Oh, for sure.” You lift a brow at him. “Not to feed your ego, or anything, but I don’t regret a thing.”

His cheeky grin softens slightly. “Good.”

You stare at him for a moment, your stomach fluttering with nervous butterflies. “So…” you clear your throat. “Two more days until we dock.” You roll your cheek between your teeth. “What now?”

Bucky rolls his head to the side, his knuckles sweeping up and down your bare leg. “Well, we have options.”

“Do tell,” you sip at the coffee.

Bucky rudely plucks the mug from your hand and sets it on the nightstand. You frown softly, your gaze finding his. He leans closer, looming into your space. “We could keep seeing each other,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours in a gentle kiss.

You smile into it, a giddy feeling swirling in your veins.

He slowly pulls back, his fingertips tracing a slow line down your cheek. “Or we could go our separate ways.” He hums, bright blue eyes flickering to yours. “What do you want?”

You gulp, your fists curling in the large shirt you wore. “Do you want to keep seeing me?”

He smiles, sweet and warm. “Of course I do, doll.” His words make you want to slap your hands over your face and giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Yeah?”

His lip rolls between his teeth, failing to suppress his smile. “Mhm.”

“Me too,” you confess, subconsciously leaning forward.

“Good,” he cups your cheek in his large hand. He pulls you into him, capturing your lips in a soft, but possessive kiss. You sigh into him, allowing him to guide you with a hand on your neck.

He pulls back slowly, leaving only a few inches between you.

“When we get home, I wanna take you out.” He mutters, his calloused fingers dragging down your jaw. You shiver. “For real.”

“Really?” You whisper, disbelief and nerves mixing together in your stomach.

“Oh yeah,” he nods. “‘Wanna see you all dressed up. Take you to dinner.” He kisses your jaw. “Fuck you in my bed,” his warm breath ghosts over your skin.

You swallow, your lashes fluttering shut. “Okay…”

He smiles, pecking your lips. “Okay.”

So for the first time in your life, you found yourself wishing for vacation to be over.

A/N: Hi....ahaha...just utter filth. I hope you guys like it, I had a lot of fun writing this version of Bucky. I love older man Bucky. Anyways, requests are always open. Comment and let me know what you think!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT IN ANYWAY.

If you have no age in your bio and you comment or message me, I WILL BLOCK YOU.

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loversrocktvgirl2 · 2 months ago

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my mini multiverse of madness…

Avengers Tower Headcanons (Loki Edition)

word count: 0.3k

Avengers Tower Headcannons Masterlist

One of Loki’s very favorite games is transforming into household objects and scaring the crap out of you.

One time, you were cutting up an apple with a kitchen knife when the knife became Loki, and you screamed as Loki nonchalantly said, “do stop that, dear, it’s painful.”

You told him to never ever do that again.

Naturally, he did it again.

His favorite earth thing (besides you) is chocolate. He’s never had it before, being from Asgard and all, and he cannot get enough of it. This man will eat a pound of chocolate without stopping. You’ve learned what to hide from him.

Loki has recently discovered texting slang, and unfortunately, it’s slipped into some of his day to day speech. You try to explain to him that you’re supposed to use it in messages, not in conversation, but he chooses to ignore you.

Multiple times, he’s looked at you dead-faced and said, “SMH,” without shaking his head. It drives you crazy, which makes him giggle.

He’s a handful, but a cute one.

He also casually brings up that he’s an actual god in conversation constantly. You cannot stop him.

“Loki, you can’t eat that much chocolate.” I AM A GOD.

“Loki, you shouldn’t say that.” I AM A GOD.

“Don’t run into the street! There’s a car, you’ll get hit!” WHAT PART OF ‘I AM A GOD’ DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND??

Loki doesn’t get earth music. It weirds him out. You were singing along to 15 Minutes by Sabrina Carpenter one day, and he just stared at you in confusion for three minutes, eleven seconds.

Loki’s trouble, but he’s your trouble.

I suppose the title “God of Mischief” should be considered an official warning label.

#loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki odinson #marvel loki #loki series #loki x reader #loki x oc #loki marvel #mcu loki #loversrocktvgirl2 #marilyn #marvel fanfiction #marvel mcu #avengers #incorrect marvel quotes #marvel #marvel movies #mcu #marilyn’s avengers tower hcs

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wayeasier · 7 days ago

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COUNT TO TWENTY-TWO — part one

⋆˙⟡ robert (bob) reynolds x reader (thunderbolts*)

summary: You're working under Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. Now, trapped miles under the Utah's desert in a strange vault, surrounded by even stranger people. You're forced to team up with this group of strangers. Among them is one particular stranger. A brown-haired man with slightly overgrown hair, who is quiet and noticeably nervous. But for some reason, he's drawn to you. More than he should be.

(this part is just slight introduction to the backstory of the reader!)

warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, thunderbolts* spoilers (obviously)

author's note: english is not my native language, so i apologize for all grammatical errors / mistakes in my writing (if there are any)

PART ONE | PART TWO ...

The year 2015.

Another cruel year to pass by. Treated less and less like a person and more of a subject. A subject for the death's wish. You are kept alive another year. Not because they care about you, about your health, it's becoming more an obsession. They want to understand death by breaking you and by using you. They wouldn't really call you immortal. You do die. You are their offering to death. Over and over again, they kill you and you die. Shot, burnt, drown and so many more experimental deaths to be used to kill you.

You have become the prototype, the subject, of the most impossible: unkillable.

You are undying.

And each return feels a little less human.

There is thumping. Loud thumping. It sounds like footsteps nearing closer, the steps falling angrily against the ground, making the sound echo around. The clamor of boots slamming against the ground. They are fast and forceful. Hurrying somewhere. It sounds like dozen of footsteps. Not just footsteps of one or two people, but it's a large group of people.

The ground beneath you is stone-cold and rough beneath your body. There is an ache you’re long accustomed to. A familiar one. The cold isn't hurting. It just exists around you. You've come to find it comforting after a while. It's something you've grown to appreciate. It is something to remind you that you're still alive.

The footsteps then draw closer. The sound of the weight of bodies and their forceful footsteps, the metallic clink of gear, the friction of their tactical cloth sounds out as they're the nearest than before. The sounds then pass by your door. The hurrying loud steps fading away as they pass by. The forceful sounds of their footsteps moves beyond you. The sound fades down the corridor and the silence creeps back in.

There is no light in this place. There never is and you don't remember if there even was. But your eyes have memorized it. The exact lines where the wall meets the cold stone floor, the exact distance from your place on the ground to the door where the footsteps sounded, the place where a little tray with nearly rotten food is located at. You do not need light to see it. It is all etched into your memory, deeply embedded. There is not a single window, no light peeking out.

Time is lost there. There is no point in counting the seconds, minutes or hours. You don't know how long you've been stuck there, in and out. You don't know how long you've been sitting on the cold ground with your back against the stone wall behind you, in the darkness.

Then suddenly, the ground underneath you shifts. It begins as a soft tremble, barely more than a shiver beneath your skin. You think it's you at the first, the coldness finally getting to you. It shakes, the floor tilts and you hear the tray with the food move as well. Then in a blink of an eye, it eases. It stills. But the stillness doesn't last, another shaking tremor starts. It feels a lot heavier and domineering than before.

The floor beneath you convulses. It feels as if it's nearing closer to you. Your legs ache as you move them for the first time in what feels like days. They’re stiff. They're trembling from cold and maybe from the blood finally flowing through them. The actual weight of your own body feels unfamiliar as you slowly slide your knees forward. Moving from the curled position you’ve been in for so long. Pain slowly moves from your body.

Your hand unhooks itself from around your knees and then drags behind you, palm slowly feeling over the cold ground beneath your body and afterwards your palm finds the wall and its cold surface. With a low, involuntary groan, you press against it, using the leverage to push yourself upright. Your muscles protest but you rise anyway. You don't raise yourself to your full height, but just enough to hover, the wall helping you stand on your shaky legs.

The shaking doesn't ease. It feels as if something is getting demolished. Feels like the walls are collapsing, ceilings falling, everywhere everything falling apart. Yhe ground beneath you then suddenly feels like it had vanished. The floor rips itself away from your feet and the floor feels so far away underneath your legs.

You then fall. Your body slams against the stone ground, hard. Breath is knocked out of you, you let out a strangled gasp as you collide with the floor. Your head slams against the floor, the pain shots through your head and through your whole entire body. Everything is moving. The walls, the entire room, is not collapsing and shaking. It feels like it is falling. The room you're trapped in falls downward, dropping down, falling.

Then the world comes to a halt. Into a very angry one.

The entire room crashes against something solid with a force that whips your body sideways. You’re thrown with no time to brace yourself. Your shoulder hits another wall with a loud noise. Another shot of pain explodes right through you. You slide down to the floor, your shoulder aching. Air is knocked from your lungs again. You didn't even get air into your lungs before getting it knocked out again. Your every breath hurts and burns. Your head throbs with a deep pulsating sensation. Everything aches.

There is a silence again. But above you, there is a faint heavy sound. Something else, many other things, are falling outside the room that you're trapped inside. Slamming into the ground one after another. The room has stopped moving. But you haven’t. You’re trembling uncontrollably, breath shallow, burning sensation in your throat, your chest tight.

You don’t know what just happened.

Maybe the doctors who played with your life finally played with someone else's and did something worse to them. You hope so. You hope the doctors got the worst of it. Especially the ones who were so ruthless with you, who threw you around, killed you many times, gave you the worst time of your life.

Maybe the weapons they had been experimenting with had exploded, making the whole building collapse, make it disappear and have it gone. Fallen on itself. You hope the grounds have opened under their feet and swallowed them in a slow agonizing pained speed so that they would remember how it felt dying. You hoped they got the absolute worst of it.

You close your eyes, not like you intended on. You feel your consciousness slipping away. You can feel your eyes rolling back, your body going slack against the floor. The last thing you remember is the absolute pain in your shoulder, head and neck.

You don’t know how long you’ve been unconscious. There is no real sky here to measure by. No sun above you, no clock ticking on a wall and no watch hanging on your arm. There is only darkness surrounding you, the same familiar one.

You stir when you hear it. A recognizable language from behind the walls, voices of living creatures. Faint and muffled. Human voices sounding out after you don't know how long. You cannot make out what they're saying. You recognize the accent and the rolls of their words. It's your language. A language that you've grown up with.

Then comes another sound. A sound of grinding screech of metal comes next. It sounds depressing to you, as if they're trying to make something work. They're trying to pry something that was meant to stay closed. You roll your head, the motion dragging absolute death-like agony across your whole body. Everything hurts. You turn towards the sound, towards the door.

You open your eyes. It stings, you feel wetness slipping from them down your cheeks. Then you hear it, a loud click noise. The door hisses. You prepare to feel the light, you haven't seen it in days. Then it comes. It isn't soft, warm or comforting. It's torment, awful pain to your half-opened eyes. Your body recoils, your head reflexively moves away, but your eyes stay on the door. You're terrified to what to see in the light. In that light before you, something or someone moves. There are silhouettes of figures, more than a few. Their voices are louder now, they sound urgent and scared.

The final move of the door makes the light even more intense. It's now wide open, the room around you finally coming into the light. You squint into the light, still laying on the floor. You want to speak out, to ask them something, but your whole throat is burning and you cannot form any words without a pain shooting down and up.

Then someone steps forward, through the door, into the room you were trapped in. Blurred outlines of figures in the haze. Then a voice rings out, urgent.

"Tu je človjek!" There is a person! You feel like you're imagining it, those aren't rushed and professional words like the doctors yelled at you. It's your language. Human words said by a human voice.

You manage to lift your head, just barely above the ground. The motion sends another pain down your spine, but you hold it up. You squint through your own watering eyes with the light still burning, but you begin to see them more clearly.

They look like civilians, not the doctors. Not the ones who stuck you against the table, needles in your arms with an unknown serums going into your blood; which made you scream until you couldn't even remember what it was like to be quiet. Those people in front of you are not them.

Two more step into the room, brushing aside dust and smoke in front of them inside the room. One of them breaks away from the others and strides directly towards you without any hesitation. They drop to their knees beside your laying body. Then their open their mouth and the familiar words come out.

"Hej—hej! Jesi li poraneny?" Hey—hey! Are you hurt? Their voice sounds urgent, but it's low. You squint your eyes and blink up at them, their face hovering above yours.

Your throat is so dry, it feels like its burning when you even try to open your mouth. But you force yourself to move. Just a little. Enough to answer without any words. You gather the last bits of your strength and you nod your head. You are definitely hurt.

The person above you exhales and motions for the two other figures to come in, they walk right over to you and your head tips back slightly, just enough to see the faint outline of the stretcher settling beside you which they've brought in.

"V redu je... Ne pomeraj se preveč. Zdaj si v bezpetsi." It's okay... Don't move too much. You're safe now. You want to believe the words, you wish to be safe. Their voice is gentle, caring. As if they’re speaking to a child, who's scared and hurt.

"Zdaj te podniesieme. Bedzie bolelo, ale ćemo biti oprezni." We’re going to lift you now. It’ll hurt, but we’ll be careful. You hear quiet instructions pass between them after the person tells you that they're going to lift you onto the stretcher. A hand slides beneath your back under your shoulders and the other person sneaks their fingers under your knees and grabs you there, you feel their fingers shaking slightly.

Then you brace yourself because you see the person above you nod to the other one. They lift you up and the pain flares through you. Your body moves from the cold floor onto a different material, much comfortable. A groan slips from your lips, painful. The figure who found you first walks beside the stretcher as the other two lift it. Their face comes into focus at last, blurred through wetness in your eyes and brightness of the light from outside.

"Bit ćeš redu, neboj se." You'll be fine, don't worry. They glance down at you and smile softly at you. Then the light finally comes in a warmer tone, they take you outside and you finally adjust to the light. But what you see makes your heart ache, the street is... Gone. Buildings are fallen, cars are destroyed, there are holes everyrwhere and it looks like there was a war. Cars are overturned, their tires in the air. The whole city is in ruins. Everything is in ruins.

"Što se stalo?" What happened? You stutter out, the words barely sounded out, but the person above you heard it.

"Sokovia je pao. Avengeri nas nemogli sve spasiti vseh." Sokovia has fallen. The Avengers couldn't save us all. Your heart felt hard, as if it had stopped. The only place you knew, the city, the country, that held your memories, your nightmares, your whole life has fallen.

The word fallen can barely cover what you're seeing right now. This is devastating. Absolute devastation. Everythign is gone, you remembered the roads, the buildings, the parks, the people. But this, this is nothing. Even though you spent nearly your whole life stuck somewhere in a hidden facility in the city, where the doctors and scientists made their own choices on other bodies. Trying new serums, new experiments, new protocols. You vividly remembered the short life before, it was beautiful.

It wasn't like this. With buildings spilt in half, the roads with craters in them. Every second reveals another piece of the past reduced to ash and destruction. A shattered playground that you never visited during your childhood days, a small flower shop with its windows shattered and roof fallen inside, a billboard with a smiling family now torn.

The person who was walking beside you sees your eyes scanning the wreckage and leans a little closer to tell you something.

"Do you understand English?" the person asks you softly and your eyes flicker to him. His voice had an accent. It wasn't Sokovian accent, something more western. You nod to him that you understand and let out a groan as another pain shoots through your neck.

"It had happened so fast. Something lifted our city into the sky. It was ripped from the ground. There... There was a machine, or that's what they've said. Under the city or inside. It was sort of a bomb. The Avengers tried to stop it..." They tell you what happened. Your chest tightens, you want to ask something, anything. But you don't know what you would ask. You haven't been up in the city for nearly your entire life. You were trapped inside with doctors who were trying on making you a new experimental patient. They filled you with unknown medications, drugs, serums and other sort of chemicals, which were supposedly helping you to become something. Then they killed you. All over again. Different ways. And then they made you come back alive. It was terrifying and inhumane.

You lie there on the stretcher, barely breathing. Behind you, around you, lies the final scene of Sokovia and its aftermath. There is nothing. You realize you don’t know where they’re taking you. You don’t know where you're going to go after this. You were never alone, there was always a doctor, or someone beside you to keep track of you.

And now, you were left with nobody and no place to live in. The city, Novi Grad, was gone, the experimental facility was gone. Everything was gone. Whoever had hurt you before though, was left with nothing but death. Buried with the city and its ruins.

The time passed by.

It's been years since the fight at Sokovia. Many years since you got freed from the unkown facility that you were trapped in and moved to s different country after a month in the hospital. The world kept moving and spinning, the Avengers went on and fought more, then they had to sign the accords sent by the Sokovians after they've ruined their country, fought about it and then something else happened. The Blip, how they called it. The five long years where half of the population had vanished from the entire world and turned into just a piece of ashes in a mere second.

And yet somehow, after all those years and events throughout them, you are still there.

After you were free to go from the momth in the hospital near Novi Grad, the capital city of Sokovia, you left the country entirely. You moved to the west. It wasn't really by your choice, though. The evacuation protocols moved what remained of Sokovia’s displaced citizens across the border or into a smaller cities in the country.

The Slovak government, with the help of the Sokovian government, placed the Sokovian refugees who made it out into a small apartments scattered through the capital city. Your apartment was on the second floor of a building that looked like it came from a very old depressive eastern european movie.

Inside the apartment, the space was barely enough for one person. It was clearly meant with no humor when they said that it was a small apartment. There was a mattress sat in the corner of the room on the wooden floor. A bathroom that could fit only you and only if you didn’t try to move much. The sink was just beside the tub. The tub next to it was yellowing. The washing machine was most likely older than you and you usually had to barricade it with a chair because it kept moving out of its place when it was turned on. Then there was a tiny kitchen a pair of burners, a very narrow counter, one cupboard that creaked when you opened it and refrigerator that had this weird annoying noise.

After you moved into the city, you were given papers with a new false birthdate and a new false name along with a last name. You started to learn the country's language slowly, from the street signs, from overheard conversations in the streets and from television playing in the next apartment over, where an old, nearly deaf, man lived.

You spent whole afternoons laying on the mattress on the floor, staring at the ceiling until the light of the sun came down and the night came up. The city iself was beautiful, even though many people disagreed with the fact. Said that it was boring. But you thought very otherwise. You came to care for it.

And still, despite the quiet, despite the anonymity, despite the new life, you never felt safe. Not really. You flinched when footsteps came too close behind your apartment's door. You kept a knife under your mattress, telling yourself it was just there in case something may happen.

After a year and a half in Bratislava, you realized that you had enough. The city had given you space to remember how to live, even if you hadn’t quite managed it. The days in the city didn’t feel like days. You lost tracks of days and weeks, you were getting bored. Not of the city, but of yourself. You felt stuck. The world outside was changing and you were not. You were still stuck in the version of yourself that had gotten out of facility, its wreckage and finally tried how to live outside again.

So when the message came you took it. It was from the Sokovian government, specifically from the ones who cared for their refugees and their current situations. There was another refugee, a woman from Novi Grad, who had spent the last year in another city in different country, Budapest, and she wanted to switch her current location, the city not being her right place. You agreed to switch places. The papers were signed quickly. Your bag was packed before the message even came. You got on the first train the next day and travelled to the next country and next city. You felt it the moment the train crossed into the city, Danube on the side in the windows, the towering buildings on the other side. Everything seemed a bit different here.

The apartment they gave you was just in the centre of the city. The building that the apartment was in was tall, narrow, and pressed between two other buildings. The flat itself was a lot better than the one you had back in Bratislava. You had a real bed now, not just a mattress on the floor. There was a tiny desk under the window with a small brown-cushion chair nearby. It was still pretty small, but it was enough. After a few weeks, you signed up for another small language course during the week. You already knew many languages, but not this one. After a while, you could speak just well to understand others and start a conversation. Which you did not plan on doing.

Budapest gave you a space not just to exist, but to begin something new.

And something new did start one day during your stay in Budapest. When you reached the subway entrance, you barely glanced at the world behind you. You were tired, you had walked around the city for the whole day, looking for something to do. That was when it happened. The loud sound came first, from behind you. A roar of metal on pavement, followed by screaming of civilians somewhere there.

A black car came down into the station. It came down hard across the stone steps of the station and slammed into the lower platform with an impact that sent debris flying around, the car on its roof. Screams erupted from behind you. You were nearly on the end of the escalator, near where the subway was, you didn't know if you should go up, see what happened or maybe even help them.

You finally got off the escalator and stood at the end, looking up from where the sounds came from. People were turned as well, the escalator descending slowly. Then another yells errupted as two women slide down the escalator railing fast. One wore black clothing, a red haired braid whipping behind her as they slid down the railing. The other woman had blood on her hands, gripping it in a cloth as they both slid down, her blonde hair in a tight ponytail. They both landed just ahead of you with a thud against concrete, rolling over.

Before you could think, something roared behind them. You dropped down instinctively, your body moving before you even registered what you were avoiding. It hit the wall behind you, cracked right into the concrete pillar. You turned towards it, still crouched. It was a shield. Not the famous one, blue, red and white with a star. This one was matte, dark-blue-like with a three ended orange symbol in the middle.

When you looked back, the two women were already running away. Leaving a smeer of blood along the floor of the station. You stood still, confused. You looked back at the shield and observed it for a moment.

Before you could reach out and touch it, a sound of heavy footsteps grew behind you. You quickly whipped to the sound. There was a person behind you, their head tikted to side and they were towering over you. A skull-like silver mask staring down at you. Tactical gear strapped around their whole figure, their entire body covered in combat clothing. The figure didn't speak and didn't move. Their head was slightly tilted to the side, observing you curiously.

Then, after a moment, they stepped forward, their tactical boot making contact with the station's floor. The figure came closer. They raised their arm and it came just next to you. Behind you, a loud sound ripped through, something being pulled from the pillar. Their shield. The figure kept their eyes on you. You couldn’t really tell if they were curious, or if they were assessing, or trying to decide whether you were worth something. For a moment, you both just stared. Then, the figure took a step back, rolling their shoulders slightly and turned away from you with a one last glance. With no words, they turned and walked deeper into the station, where the two other women retreated into.

That was one of the days, which made you remember that you were still living. Which made you think about your past, from when you were stuck in the facility with vials in your arms and experiments done on your daily. Gun against your temple, knife in your abdomen, a poisoned cloth against your nose and mouth and many, many other ways to kill you.

Those years in Bratislava and Budapest changed you in many ways. Bratislava taught you how to live with silence and offered you a new start when you finally left your home country. Budapest has welcomed you the same way. It was another new start. It taught you how to be afraid again. And so, one day, after the years you've spent in Europe, you packed everything you had and paid an absolute price to board a plane straight to the United States.

You didn’t know what waited on the other side of the world, but you knew what you were leaving behind.

Sokovia became a shadow, stuck somewhere far into your mind. The person who had crawled out of that terrifying hole of an unknown experimental facility in the middle of the city, who had watched the city crumble traped inside a dark room, was someone else now.

You were starting over. Once again.

hope you liked this! if yes, comments and feedback are really appreciated! <3

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