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heli0s-writes · 3 months

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Sweet

A/n: You know how sometimes when you’re having a breakdown and nothing is helping but then something completely unrelated and stupid just does it for no reason. This is that. With pot brownies and kissing. Bucky is recovering and reader is an moron with a heart of gold. Angst, hurt/comfort, humor. Reader/Bucky. 3k words Warnings: Marijuana use; conversations about trauma, particularly food-related; language.

The path leading away from the cabin is littered with wet patches of morning. Rime colors of miserable winter in sludge grey are starting to be overtaken by sprouts of green, yellow, and brisk dew, springtime optimism come to life.

Pepper’s got the front of her house looking like a farmer’s market flower stand. Pots of tulips and daffodils explode up the steps and tri-color ribbons connecting porch-light to porch-light. The magnolia tree is soon to bud, and she’s hung hummingbird feeders and birdhouses all around.

When the cars start rolling in for the quarter-yearly potluck, you hang out near the garden, rocking back and forth on your feet. You'd shown up early but didn’t know what to do around a toddler, so outside it was.

The familiar Range Rover halts to a stop, Sam’s door opening as he makes his way out, holding ceramic handles of an enormous crockpot.

You call, “Bring your famous chili?”

“Damn right, I did,” he beams, “you bring your appetite?”

You waggle your eyebrows before looking to the SUV he hopped out of, Steve lingering by the back door with a brown paper box tucked beneath his arm, knocking on the heavily tinted windows with a long-suffering sigh. “C’mon, Buck. Up and at ‘em.”

A loud, decisive knock thumps back at him and Steve rolls his big, pitiful, puppy dog eyes in your direction. Beneath the blue of his left orbital is what looks suspiciously like the fading ochre stain of either an almost healed bruise or a newly forming one, which only makes Steve’s silent call for aid more pathetic and urgent.

Damn, okay. Since you’re kind of on thin ice already, this could go one of two ways.

Sliding up, you crack your knuckles.

“Barnes,” you call, “I got something illegal for you. Wanna see?”

“Dead body.” He responds from behind the still shut door, and you’re not sure if that’s a question. Steve glares at you accusatory, as if you’d actually bring a dead body to a potluck, good grief.

“Uh, no.”

“Knife.”

Steve shoots you another look—which is just ridiculous at this point, the both of them.

“Knives aren’t illegal.”

“Depends.”

Steve shifts the box of what looks to be cherry turnovers and mouths phrase day, which means that Barnes decided to stop talking in complete sentences sometime between when he woke up and probably when Steve over-crowded him and is now reducing all communication to two or three words as both a method of punishment for Steve and self-preservation for Barnes.

“It’ll make you feel better,” you urge, “Loads better.”

“Sex.” He rolls down the window just enough for you to get a glimpse of his eyes, narrowed and steely. “Drugs?”

You mouth bingo, outrightly ignoring the fact that it feels like Bucky Barnes nearly solicited you for sex, and Steve puts his hand over his own face, about to quip until he realizes that he’s probably said too much already—which is what got him in this predicament to begin with—and simply drags himself toward the house.

Barnes watches him go wordlessly before he opens the door and steps out, looking down at you, lightly shivering in the cold, and says, still one-worded, “Okay.”

He pops three brownies into his mouth and chews, opening just enough to get out a muffled, “too sweet” before returning to grinding down like he’s cracking pecan shells in there.

“I know you have like,” you make panicked motions with your fingers, snapping the red Tupperware lid back down frantically, “hella metabolism, but pump the brakes or you’re going to flip.”

“Flip,” he concludes, determined. He squirrels about two more in before you can do anything about it.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! I was going to let you take those home later—oh my god, I’m going to get into so much trouble.”

The two of you are stopped at one of those cutesy stone birdbaths around the perimeter, leaning on the lip as Barnes licks remaining chocolate off his fingers, looking as pleased as punch. As much as he can look, anyway, you think, since you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him smile at anything other than the time Steve stubbed his toe bad enough on Tony’s kitchen island that he doubled over.

“Did you say sex earlier?” You suddenly remember the flash of silver from the darkness of the SUV. “Wait, actually, I wanna go back even before that—did you really think I’d have a dead body?”

He shrugs.

“Cool,” you reply, “cool, cool, cool, cool. I think I should be more concerned, but you know what, I like it. Feels like a vote of confidence.”

A wide grin stretches across your face and you temporarily forget that Bucky fucking Barnes has eaten about half a pan of brownies with 25 grams of pot baked into them, that in about 15 minutes you’re both expected to sit down like normal people and have a nice dinner without anyone doing… whatever it is that he might do when he’s blazed to high heaven.

You shake the thought of Steve’s disappointment out of your head. Maybe it’d be best to keep acting natural, get him into some kind of headspace.

“So,” you whistle, “what’d you bring to the potluck?”

He gives you a sidelong stare and if there were Olympics for how someone can convey eat shit and die without moving anything but their eyes, he’d win every 8 years for the rest of his unnaturally long life.

“Well, I brought myself,” you curtsy, starting back down the trail again, figuring that you’ve got five minutes walking forward before it’d be time to turn back to the house, “and your present,” to which he gives you a short nod, “and an empty stomach. You excited for Sam’s chili?”

“Spicy.”

“Spicy?” you recoil, suddenly finding the prospect of a man who gave Captain America a black eye last week or possibly this morning—the monster who ate half of your most lethal bake—panting and sweating over a bowl of chili astoundingly inconceivable.

“Oh wait, you live with Rogers. What’s he feeding you at home? Steamed chicken?”

“Baked.”

You sigh, “God, you’re fucked. Nat brought something with Carolina Reaper infused honey glaze. Barnes... we’ll have to do a prayer circle for your ass.”

His face twists into a look of disgust before he starts to notice his lips, pressing them together, pulling them apart. After a few more motions like he’s discovering his body, bit by bit, he turns to you, and announces, “Feeling it.”

You laugh, jealous, because although you had a bite about 30 minutes before he even arrived, the brownie hasn’t hit you yet. “Good,” you say anyway, “that’s good, right?”

He only apathetically regards a sparrow flying past. You suppress a chortle when Barnes repeatedly licks his lips and rubs at the sleeves of his sweater.

“Have you ever been high before?” You correct, “In the fun, recreational, consensual way?”

Another listless shrug before he turns his head. You push yourself off a nearby log and make a show of stomping through haphazard piles of sticks and dead leaves, curling your fingers in a come along motion.

He follows, boots crunching, steps short and patternless, making a racket behind your back. He looks like a kid, fingers tucked up into his long sleeves, bouncy knees as he attempts to splash into every puddle as he possibly can before catching up. He’s almost got a grin when he looks at you, remembering where he is again, and there’s a light brush of color along the tops of his cheeks from the chill.

Around a small bend in the path, you duck under a branch, hop over a stone, and when you land back on both feet, the ground wobbles just enough to notice.

The air smells nice. Your eyelids feel heavy in a good way.

“Steve really piss you off this morning, didn’t he?”

Barnes lands a couple of feet away, his face dropping into an exhausted expression at the question, which you can’t fault him for because Steve’s a lot of things. Simple things, on the surface, but Barnes has known him longer than most anyone else and you imagine all of his noble qualities—his longstanding patience and willpower and belief in the goodness in everything and everyone—you imagine that shit gets old.

Hell, it gets at you on occasion, and you’re not even the brainwashed best friend who’s probably hearing a hundred voices in his head and is too tired to hear one more no matter how well-intentioned it might be.

Sometimes, being inundated by language just breaks it all back into foreign, incomprehensible script. And sometimes, being exceedingly plied with something you can’t make any sense of makes you turn inward, makes you bare your teeth in self-defense.

Which makes you realize you probably should ease up, too, talk less, but then he takes a long step with his ridiculous legs and is by your side, walking as if you two do this all the time.

“He’s a fixer.” Bucky’s brows are scrunched together, hands buried in his pockets. You nod quickly, not wanting him to go into any more detail than that because it’s not news that the entire population is still wary of Bucky Barnes’ re-emergence as a United States citizen when he was, up until very recently, a—uh, Russian one.

This, obviously, puts many things at odds with each other, including Steve, who is Mr. United States himself. The Avengers, too, who are mostly Team United States, considering the location and overwhelming population. But most of all, Bucky, who is still cobbling together bits and pieces of his life each day, is faced with the knowledge that everyone in the world knows more about him than he does.

You rub the back of your neck sympathetically because that shit would kill your heart so fast.

“You know what.” You shake the Tupperware at him, “Have the rest of these. You deserve it. And like, a million hugs.”

He barks a laugh, gladly gulps down the rest, and there’s a dapple of fudge on his chin looking so silly and sweet as he chews.

Ah, shoot. You avert your gaze, feeling very bad ideas break out up your arms and neck, and the shudder that is about to overtake you seems less about Barnes’ sweet face and more about Steve’s disappointed one. Like, he’s going to read your mind and know you’re having ideas about his best friend. And he’s going to do that thing where his eyebrows drop and his lips press together as he attempts to hold back a few choice words. Until later, probably, when he corners you somewhere and unleashes them anyway.

What were you thinking?, he’ll hiss. Are you capable of thinking rationally?

“What?” Barnes prods. “What is it?”

“Nothin’” you take a leap forward, herding the both of you back. The closer you are to the cabin the more you’ll remember that you’re at a family event, with friends, who should all stay in the friend territory.

But you blurt anyway, “You said sex earlier!” Because you’re a whole ass idiot.

He makes a small noise, says, “Yeah,” like that’s any help.

“Are you…” what the fuck, your head is spinning, “like, in… need of some?” Your face feels hot.

“Maybe. My body is…” he frowns, so weirdly open right now, and then he looks at you with half is face in a weary grin, the other half lost and confused. “Responding to stimuli in ways I haven’t— responded to in... Trying to fix it. Steve wants me to be fixed.”

He tilts his face to the sky, glaring at it. “Can’t get it out.”

You’re trying to force your rabbiting heart down to a manageable pace. You’ve never had any in-depth discussions with him about anything, much less his sex drive. The most interaction the two of you get is the occasional mission or get-together where you crack jokes and get shitfaced when the job’s done. You’ve been told you’re sort of a pain and haven’t given a fuck too much to change that.

You’re sort of in trouble right now, having been “irrational” during the last mission, running across the iced lake instead of taking the planned route and falling in. It ended up working out, since you got to the enemy helicopter before the enemies, but then there was the stabbing because you were sort of outnumbered and the pneumonia afterwards because you fell into the fucking lake…

There was a massive chewing out. Steve and his many, disappointed words.

Something about motor-mouths and low-object permanence but sure, good on the inside when it counts.

You hope this is one of those times where it counts.

“Listen,” you start. “Take as long as you need, there’s no rush on recovery and pushing yourself too hard is detrimental to your health. It’s not a straight line.”

“I hit him.”

Your wheeling brain is making a sharp left, trying to figure out where Barnes is driving toward. Oh. The black eye.

“Aw, Steve?” You wave your hand, swatting nothing. “He’s a big boy.”

“I’m hungry. Then I’m not.”

“I mean, that sounds normal—“

“No, a lot. Fast. Cyclical. Endless.”

It must be his metabolism adjusting. The realization of his relationship with food comes fast, almost visceral. Scarce when he was young, then rationed during the war before it was taken from him altogether. He was given the bare minimum with Hydra—protein slurry, tube-fed—then purged—stomach pumped—before being put on ice.

For decades.

Starvation must have truly felt endless.

And now with food being a surplus, with his body readjusting to it, yet his mind still struggling with habits—it must be so confusing. Another seemingly natural function to be confused about.

“Ah,” you manage, a lump in your throat like a blockade.

“I get nightmares.” He’s glaring at his hands, one flesh, one metal, opening and closing his fist like trying to get a grip on himself, and his voice is so small and pained. “These thoughts. All sorts. Can’t sleep.”

You extend your hands, shake off the dry sob that wants to erupt from your chest, and declare with flourish, “On the fourth day, God made Purple Kush, and it was good. So, we can—we can fix that.”

He takes another one of those long looks, through his lashes, lips quirked in quiet humor.

“You’re not really a fixer.”

He shakes the container of crumbs in your face.

You gasp, snatching it back in offense. “I can fix… some things! I replaced the utility light in the kitchen yesterday!“

Your cheeks are hot, face twitching like a broken screen because all you can think about is how handsome he is, out here like this, nose blushing, eyes lazy and crescent shaped, the heavy creases beneath them less pained and more relaxed.

And how he’s teasing you—- and he’s kind of a little shit.

“You fucker,” you say.

He grins—all big and silent, and for a second you count your blessings that he’s not going to say anything else shitty until he quips, “Not unless you’re offering.”

He’s staring at you intently, a curious expression winding its way up his face. His eyes are huge and blue and the most alert, glazed-over, pair of bloodshot, redder-than-the-devil’s-dick eyes you’ve ever seen on anyone stoned halfway to the moon.

His tongue darts out, sweeps a slow, careful line over the width of his bottom lip, practically asking, and you’re just the simple idiot who openly gawks at him.

“Ah,” you nod. “Yeah you’re definitely right. I’m—“ you gulp, “more of a fuck-up.”

Because what’s another fuck up to add onto the long-running list of fuck ups you’ve had recently, anyway? Kissing Barnes might count as a really serious one, sure, but at least it’s not pneumonia.

It’d make him feel better, probably, it’d make him feel something, at least. Steve would appreciate that, if Barnes came to the dinner table verbal, maybe even laughing. No one has to tell Steve that his best pal kissed your face off in the woods.

The idea of your face being kissed off is doing a number on you. The idea of Bucky Barnes, this gorgeous, miserable, godly, tragic contradiction, your at-arm’s-length teammate, your quickly-becoming friend, kissing your face off because he needs to feel something soft in the midst of the rest of the horrible, jagged things he already feels every second of his life—and he can get it from you.

You’re stupid and simple and how could anyone say no to that? So you take one last second to steel your heart, push forward, and lean in.

It’s, frankly, bizarre.

He kisses you gently, fantastically, inconsistently, wavering from assured one second to apprehensive the next, like he remembers how but can’t quite execute.

You meet him where you can, respond to the parting of his lips with your own, adjust to his tension with grace, and when he starts feeling like he’s getting the hang of it, like muscle memory has finally settled into his body, you let him lead.

One hand finds the base of your skull, the other placing itself on your waist. His kisses grow greedy, like he remembers desire is a thing that occurs to him. He tilts his head down, kisses up like he wants to swallow every sigh between your lips, like he’s hungry for the sounds you make—and you’re making, embarrassingly, a lot of them. He’s good—dominant but kind, mouth wide, lips full, tongue cocoa-sweet and clever as it strokes yours again and again.

When he backs you up into a tree, you barely register it. His hand has moved to cushion your head, and he’s urging his entire body forward into yours, grip tight at your hipbone, moving his mouth to your jaw, then your neck, and you stutter a string of letters that refuse to make words.

Barnes is expertly sucking marks beneath your collar, right beneath the neckline, his breath hot and coming out in a near snarl and when he scrapes his teeth down, sinking them into the soft skin of your chest, you yelp loud enough to send a few birds scattering from the trees.

He jumps off like he’s burned you, eyes frantic, afraid.

“No—” you clear your throat, hands out, “Hold on.”

He’s blinking, head clearing, head trying to assess what he’s done, the situation, the pulled loose neckline, the wet shine of his spit up your throat.

“S-sorry—”

“No, don’t be sorry.” You give him his distance but take a small step forward. “That was hot. But,”

He blinks, confused, and this whole thing could easily go pear-shaped, your well-intentioned explanation might turn into unintelligible speech at any moment, but you have to try or else he’ll tailspin into catastrophe, and you suddenly feel so sorry for Steve, the poor fuck who’s doing this every day, clinging onto the hope that what he’s saying doesn’t set Bucky off, doesn’t push his boulder back downhill.

He's still stuttering sorry, starting to pace.

“Listen,” you say firmly, clipping your own panic, “that was wow, let me tell you. But if you don’t stop, I’m going to like— hotwire a car.”

Somehow this stops him in his tracks, “What?”

“Well, I didn’t drive here. Because you know, I was going to like, get really shitfaced.”

“What?”

“Yeah, and like, take you to a hotel or something.”

He frowns, obviously completely lost. “Why?”

It’s your turn to be lost. Both of you open-mouthed and panting at each other like two dumb dogs chasing each others’ tail in an ouroboros of idiocy.

“Huh? What do you mean why? You just tongue-fucked me, do you think I’m immune to getting on my knees for that?”

Now you can see it happening—the incomprehensible speech like a marquee as it runs across Barnes’ brain. Tongue-fuck, immune to getting on my knees. He doesn’t understand any of that, and god bless any soul who can. What language are you even speaking right now other than hot-brained, hot-skinned, hot-hearted to him, who’s still struggling to defrost?

“Never mind,” you redact, “ignore that.” You put your hands on his shoulders to ground yourself, vaguely thinking that maybe you shouldn’t touch him but the firm slap of your palms seems to break him out of his new trance. “Can we kiss again, later?”

He blinks, staring at you, at your hands on him, at your lips all swollen up.

“Yes.”

You sigh, relieved and thankful that other than you, no one’s freaking out, that your plan to get Bucky Barnes high worked out after all, and that he has agreed to make out later because he’s really, really good at it.

“Wonderful. Let’s go back now? Are you ready?”

He mulls it over and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. “Sure, but I’m not eating chili.”

“Well, you’re in luck, there’s plenty of chicken.”

He grimaces, cuts a sharp look up to you before a twinkle settles in his blue, blue eyes. “Okay,” he agrees, “guess we should do a prayer circle for my ass.”

You clap your hands together and recite Our Father.

“It was sex, wasn’t it?”

Sam’s got one hand over his belly, snickering. Everyone else looks your way, gullible, scandalized, and you can’t blame them since the two of you were gone an awfully long time and came back extremely disheveled.

Bucky had walked in dutifully behind you, wiped off his boots, sat down at the dinner table, and asked for seconds saying please and thank you and he even threw in a that was delicious just to watch Steve’s head explode.

And Bucky, who you’ve come to realize is genuinely a shit— still one-worded and knowing full well the repercussions of his one word— only shrugs and responds, “Yes.”

The room erupts into shouting as you throw a buttered roll at his head. He catches it easily and brings it up to his grinning mouth, shimmer of spit glossy and fantastic on his lips.

#reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes/reader #reader insert #fanfiction #mcu #hurt/comfort #angst #humor

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itsmeatballworld · 1 year

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| just a dream |

summary | Bucky and reader are neighbors in Brooklyn. When reader has a spicy dream about the broody man, it sets off a series of events that ignites something in both of them.

pairing | bucky barnes x f!reader

wc | 6k [pls I got carried away]

warnings | smut & fluff babes so 18+ ONLY. Cursing, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, p in v (no condom mentioned but pls wrap it up irl), lots of praise kink, handjob, cock warming (if you squint). If a one-shot could be a slow-burn romance, here it is.

a/n | set during tfatws. I posted this on my ao3 account originally, so here it is on my tumblr account!

Minors DNI, 18+ ONLY [again, 18+ only] Minors, Do Not Interact.

dividers by @/firefly-graphics

The shimmer of moonlight illuminated the small space in an ethereal glow. Below the bedroom window, a messy bed was littered with pillows. Pictures hung on the walls to hide imperfections laced throughout the simple paint color.

And you were standing among the wreckage of clothes stripped off your body one piece at a time.

Your hand played with the fabric of your panties, watching the tall masculine figure waiting in the darkness for your next move.

You flicked your tongue. “Your turn. Jeans first.”

On command, a pair of jeans landed at your feet as proof of his contribution to the clothing pile.

“Now the shirt,” you said. A hum escaped your lips as you unhooked your bra. You waited until his shirt, now crumpled in a ball, fell to the floor.

He was nearby, hidden by the darkest part of the room where moonlight failed to highlight his handsome features.

“Lie back,” his sultry voice demanded.

Bare legs brushed the edge of your bed as you pout your lips. “What’s in it for me, Sergeant?”

He stepped closer to your scantily dressed body, as only your underwear remained. “Lie back and find out.”

A grin plays at your lips before you tossed yourself down, burying yourself in the silky sheets.

Through the dark, it was hard to see him but it was clear he had you in a trance.

The bed creaked under his weight as he moved closer. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” you mewled, nearly squirming from the never-ending tightness in your lower belly.

You needed him. Wanted him.

Callous hands gripped your ankles. “Can I taste you?”

Your breathy voice sputtered out ‘yes’.

Instantly, his head lowered into the only sliver of moonlight over the bed. His blue eyes were the first thing you always were drawn to. Bright and clear like the sky on a spring morning. But woven throughout were waves of steel, silver, like a shadow trying to dull his brightness. Chiseled jaw with stubble. Short brown hair that clipped perfectly around his face.

“Bucky!” Bucky Barnes, your neighbor who just moved into the complex, was the only person you wanted in this world.

Those blue eyes drop to your body.

“Bucky.”

Fingers trailed up to the band of your panties and within seconds they were gone. “Impatient as always,” his sweet laugh seemed to take on a hint of something hot, something feral.

“Mhm.”

His head dipped between your legs. “Baby,” Bucky gripped your thighs as his tongue slid across the softest, most inner part of your skin. “I’m gonna make you feel good. Just like that,” he coaxed as your knees spread to allow him complete access.

“That’s my girl.”

Your head dropped back against the bed at the sheer sound of his raspy, honey dipped voice – You snapped your eyes open.

Sweat pooled at the back of your neck. Sheets tangled between your legs, twisting around into a woven knot. Your hands fell to the thumping rhythm in your chest.

“Fuck, fuck…” you cursed between pants of air. Like the world was crashing down on your chest, you couldn't breathe.

Bucky. Bucky. It felt so real. His skin on yours. His touch. His tongue. “What the fuck?”

Bucky Barnes, your neighbor, who you talk to in passing since he moved in. He was very attractive, you couldn’t deny that. And now you’re having sex dreams about him.

He was quiet and removed, most likely because of who he used to be: the Winter Soldier.

People whispered about him in the complex, sharing secrets on the elevator. I heard he’s killed thousands of people. I heard he worked for Hydra and is still working for them.

You ignored their stupid comments, knowing damn well he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore. When those blue eyes looked at you it was clear that he was a wounded shell of a man trying to find himself in a new world, not some soulless machine.

And those vibrant eyes carried into your dream. A dream that felt too real.

You wobbled off the bed, which was easy considering you were inches from falling. Padding to the bathroom you jumped into a luke-warm shower. The more you scrubbed and washed the thoughts away the more you could feel him on your skin. Under your skin. In every inch of your mind.

He was like a drug, lingering in your system. A drug you didn’t expect to be so potent. It’s just Bucky. He’s just some guy you met from across the hall. He’s a nice guy.

Maybe it was because you helped him not too long ago when he moved in as a “welcome to the neighborhood” greeting. Since then, you both have done little things for each other.

For one, you brought him muffins because he’d mention quickly how he likes blueberry sweets. It was a simple thing that offered no reciprocation. But then, he brought you a bunch of Japanese sweets that were out of this world amazing. And the little things kept on happening. Now, you chat in the halls and you look forward to it everyday.

Shit, maybe you were kind of crushing on Bucky Barnes.

“UGH!” a frustrated yelp escaped your lips. The tile wall became a post to rest your wildly spinning head.

No, this dream – these feelings – they were all just in your mind. Right?

He replayed the scene in his mind. Over and over, he circled back through the hazy nightmare. Blood. Bullets. Knives. He killed people, he knew it was him in those memories. It was his finger pulling the trigger, and yet it was like someone else did it.

It wasn’t really him. It was what they made him to be. A monster.

“—still having nightmares?”

The question cut through his dissociative moment, but like a statue he kept still. His eyes focused on the corner where the tile met the molding.

“James,” the woman pestered, “I asked you a question. Are you still having nightmares?”

“No.” Bucky Barnes tipped his head back, staring up at the blank white ceiling above him.

“James. I can’t help if you’re not being truthful with me.”

He didn’t respond. He knew there wasn’t any way he’d get out of these mandatory therapy sessions. The longer he sat here, the less sanity Bucky could maintain.

“Okay,” his therapist sighed wistfully, “no nightmares?” Her eyes burned into him. “Fine. Then let’s move on. Have you talked to anyone recently? Sam? That neighbor across the hall?”

His eyes snapped towards the mid-aged woman. “My neighbor?”

“Now don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not—”

“The neighbor who helped you.” He stared blankly at the therapist. She sighed, scribbling something in her notebook. “She fixed your radio—”

“Gramophone.”

Her pen moved as her eyes circled him, curiously. “A what?”

“You know, a gramophone. A record player.”

The woman hummed and Bucky clenched his fist. He started to silently plot how he could escape the questions he was currently under fire for. He didn't want to talk about the nicest woman from across the hall. The kindest stranger with the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. He’d like to keep it to himself.

“Well. This woman who fixed your gramophone is the same woman you mentioned,” she scanned the paper before wildly circling something, “knocking at your door with…muffins.”

He paused, contemplating her words. He’d be lying if he said he hasn't thought about his neighbor on more than a few occasions now.

On the elevator, he’d nod when she said ‘good morning’. Another time, she knocked to tell him about the roofing construction in the complex that would start early in the morning. It was sweet of her to tell him, but Bucky never had the nerve to say he never slept so the noise never bothers him.

She’s the one with the sweetest smile and pleasant conversation. He couldn't help but like her a bit more each day they interacted. Just last week, he walked with her up to their complex from the street.

Although Bucky told that to his therapist, what he didn't say was how he knocked on her door with homemade dorayaki. It was a gift from his friend Yori but he wanted to share something sweet with the kindest woman he knows.

But none of that would leave the confines of his mind. Instead, a snide smile seemed to match his tone. Bucky sighed, “boy did I say all that?”

“James.”

“Doc.”

She groaned, clicking the pen again. The look on her face was something Bucky was used to now. The woeful stares and patronizing expression were a part of coming back from being the monster they made him into. The weapon of a man Hydra used at their disposal until he was no longer necessary–until he wasn’t a puppet anymore.

“James, did you ever think of trying to make friends? It’s healthy to have people in your life.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, Bucky focused on his black leather gloved hands folded neatly in his lap. The only person he wants to talk to is his neighbor.

Maybe the doc was right. Maybe he should be friends with her.

“Look, why don’t we start fresh next session,” the therapist sighed as the notebook dropped onto the side table. “Hopefully you’ll be more open and honest.”

Bucky sighed, his tongue flicked over his teeth. “Sure, doc.”

The text message was very clear: be there in ten minutes. That was two hours ago. Either your date had a series of terrible events happen or he stood you up. You checked the clock again. 8:12pm.

It was dark outside now and you could barely see past the street lamps on either side of the road. Tonight was the first of many real dates in a long time. Whatever the reasoning, whether it was no guy was good enough or you were just too terrified to put yourself back out there, you agreed to go out with the guy from work. He seemed nice enough.

But your kindness was running short. He was late. Very, very late.

Now it’s 8:16pm.

Heels tapped impatiently as you sat in the lobby of your building.

“Miss?” A deep voice called out from across the room. The night concierge peered over the desk. Coffee in hand, he raised his mug. “Sure you don’t want some?”

“No, but thank you.” Your smile dipped. These past few hours you’ve been sitting downstairs with the sweetest concierge named Joe asking if you needed anything. He nearly handed off the homemade pupusas he had in his lunch bag after an hour of waiting.

You sighed, tapping the screen until you reread his message again. Ten minutes. You typed out a quick response, again, hoping he’d at least –

The screen flashed to a new text.

Your Date: Shit I forgot. Sorry. Rain check?

The screen went dark. Anger and sadness swirled through your body and there was no distinction between them. You were furious — and rightfully so. He forgot? He was acting as if he misplaced his car keys or left a sweatshirt at his friend's house.

You stood up, mind racing, blinded by swirling emotions and – something hard bumped into you. You stumbled, grasping at emptiness until a strong arm grabbed ahold of you.

“You okay?” Staring down at you, Bucky Barnes gawked.

Those steel eyes froze you. “I’m fine…”

He nodded, slowly helping you back up to your feet. You flattened your outfit into place as Bucky handed off your phone. “Thanks.”

“Miss,” Joe called out. “Any luck?” The concierge tapped at his wristwatch. “If he was my son, I’d yell at him for keeping you waiting.”

Bucky didn’t move from his spot near you.

“Um,” you cleared your throat. “He’s not coming.”

Joe slapped the desk, spinning in his chair. “Now that’s some grade A bullshit!”

“It’s fine. I’ve got a pint of chocolate ice cream in the freezer calling my name.” You turned slightly to Bucky, staring anywhere but his eyes. The same eyes you dreamt about the other night. So instead, you fixated on his hands. The same hands you fantasized about touching you. His chest. The same chiseled and bulky body you’ve caressed in your dream—

“Do you wanna go get some dinner?”

Your face scrunched in response. “What?”

“I was just thinking about eating at this diner down the block.”

“With me? You want to go out to eat with... me?”

“I’m asking, aren't I?”

“You’re talkative tonight,” you chuckled.

There was a spark in those mysterious eyes. Maybe it was because he asked you out or maybe it was because you were actually going to say yes.

“I’d love to.”

One month later.

Bucky ducked down.

“Right there, no on the left–”

“My left?”

“Yes,” you laughed. He reached lower until you nodded with approval. You clasped your hands together as he brought the next round of vinyls over.

The small office in your apartment was converted into a book/music room where you housed everything in messy but surprisingly organized stacks. Rows and rows of bookshelves kept your things lined neat enough to tell the difference between albums and novels. A dresser sat across the shelves topped with the record player and lots of random things you owned. Opposite that was a small loveseat you dragged back to the apartment from a flea market.

It has been a month since your dinner dates started. Neither of you said they were real “dates”, but both of you secretly felt like it.

Every Friday night (and a few Saturdays too), Bucky knocks on your door and walks you to a restaurant. A cute little Italian bistro or a modern Thai restaurant in the midst of old school Brooklyn. Then, it was back to your place for music, movies, and pure enjoyment of another person’s company.

Each night has been more exciting than the last. And somehow in the midst of dinners and getting to know this solitary man, you felt it.

That spark.

It sounded stupid but it was real – that feeling you get when you fall in love. The butterflies and tingling when talking to him. The way he smiled made you melt. The goofy laughs and excited conversations about his obsessions. You were head-over-heels, mind numbingly in love, with Bucky Barnes.

And those feelings were getting harder to ignore.

“Listen to this one,” you dropped the record player’s arm down. “You’re gonna love it.”

A soft melody echoed through the space and he nodded his head in approval. “Told you. It's a good album.”

“Yeah, but I never heard of them.” He leaned against the dresser.

“Never?”

“No,” his eyes flickered from you to the album. The Bee Gees. His gloves were removed, piled on top of the mahogany colored wood. Stacks of vinyls towered over the old-school record player you owned.

“Here, this is one of my favorites.” You yanked a record out from the stack and handed it to Bucky. “Take it home with you, listen to it, then tell me what you think.”

His brows furrowed. “Why not now?”

“It’s getting late, I don't want to bore you all night.”

“You’d never bore me,” Bucky said as he twisted the record. “I like being with you.”

Instead of focusing on him and those hands, and what he just said, you dove through the next pile of records.

/-/

When you looked away, he grazed his eyes down your body. He was infatuated with you. The way you moved, the way you smiled. Everything you did had Bucky’s eyes locked on you. It made him feel like he was going crazy. Maybe he was going crazy. He’s never felt so attracted to someone like this before. When he asked you to dinner, he chalked it up to trying to be friends. But that wasn't it. He liked you. He liked you but was too afraid to make a real move.

So asking you to dinner after being stood up seemed like the easiest way to ask you out without putting himself out there. And every Friday for just over a month has been heaven and hell. He was ecstatic to take you out. To make you smile. To hear your laugh.

But he was in hell—a hell centered around his paranoia. He doesn't want to lose you if he tells you how he feels.

Shit. It was getting harder to ignore his feelings for you.

Some time passed and you both wound up on the couch. Conversations came and went. They were silly topics and some things more personal. He let out a slow exhale. “I don't get it.”

You sat up. “Get what?”

“I don’t understand why you’re so nice to me. I know you know who I am… or who I was. I just can't understand how someone so kind and smart and–”

“I know a good person when I see one. Maybe it’s hard for you to see that you’re not a bad person. You’ve done bad things, most people have. But that soldier isn't the man who’s in front of me listening to music.” Your hand gently brushed his vibranium fingers exposed past the henley sleeve. “The past doesn't always have to define who you are today. If you know the bad stuff, understand the horrible things you've done, and you grow from it? You’re a better person than the rest of us, Bucky.”

He didn’t move or speak. He just watched you as if your next move would be the one to level him down to nothing but ‘the real him’.

The real him—when he was just a dumb kid from Brooklyn heading out to fight for a war he knew little about. You saw him for who he was: wounded and broken, but not irreversibly damaged. You could see him for who he wanted to be and Bucky wasn’t ever going to let that go.

“You’re something else,” he murmured your name like it was a prayer on his tongue.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He lifted the vinyl. “Well I should head home. I’ll play this tonight,” he smiled softly.

/-/

That smile – Oh. Oh. You felt a rush of nerves and excitement through your body.

“Thank you. Tonight was fun.”

“I had a lot of fun too.” He was warming up to you. Or you were warming up to the cold, grumpy ex-Winter Soldier.

He gave you one last smile but you were too in your head to realize. You liked him. You really, really liked him. Bucky was already out in the living room when you called for him. “Next Friday?”

You wanted to do this again. More than Fridays. Many times. For dinner. Drinks. Anything. He sparked something in you that couldn't be put into words. Something unknown. Unfamiliar. Exciting. You wanted, no, needed more.

He poked his head through the doorway. That light smile plastered across his face, warming his tense features. “Next Friday.”

One week later.

You polished off the last handful of popcorn. Bucky slumped against your shoulder as he tapped his fingers on his jean-covered knee.

“Okay you were right. I really hated that movie,” he turned to you with a dreamy expression.

“If you liked the Hobbit that much when it came out–”

“When it came out in 1937 it was a masterpiece.” He rested deeper into the couch as the credits rolled and it brought you back to the streaming platform’s screen. “Now that was poorly executed.”

Bucky could ramble on and on about his love for fantasy and science fiction and you would happily sit through every second of it.

“We should watch Princess Bride next.”

Resting blue eyes flicker to your face. “Game on,” he murmured with a grin.

“Need another drink?” You stood up and moved towards the kitchenette.

“Nah, I’m fine. Thanks.” He kept that sweet smile for most of the night. So you played vinyl after vinyl while making cookies. Then movie after movie. At two in the morning, you were wide awake and no matter what excuse you used, tonight was the best night in a long time. Barnes was a surprising man under all that stoic exterior. He was flirty. Goofy. A bit of a nerd. He was more than who he thought he was before.

“You’re staring.” Bucky stood to meet you. The lip of his shirt dropped over his exposed muscular mid drift, but not before you caught a glance at his defined abs.

You nearly choked when you remembered the abs you dreamt about the other week and how eerily similar they were. “I was just thinking about how late it was.” You turned and shut the fridge. “Maybe we should go to bed.”

We.

“Yeah, you’re right. We should go to bed.” He didn’t correct you either. A wave of excitement and nerves bundled inside.

“I’ll set up the couch in the office if that’s okay?”

“Fine with me,” he stretched again.

Carefully, you stepped into the book infested room to fix the cushions. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too.”

“Next Friday?”

He nodded, “next Friday.”

“Feel free to leave a note on my door if you need to switch out a vinyl.”

“A note? Like a love note?”

The flirty side that you’ve seen of Bucky was back. He was in this trance, watching you. He was mesmerizing but you continued fixing his bed. You moved towards the dresser in the room, opening the top drawer for blankets.

“No, but I wouldn’t mind,” you whispered.

“You wouldn’t?”

You shook your head. “I’d write back but don't expect anything poetic.”

“Well then.” Bucky leaned in, “guess I’ve got some writing to do.”

“Guess so.”

He was so close to you. If it weren't for his shirt, you’d be staring at his abs again. “What would you say?” Your voice was so quiet.

“Hm?”

“In the note.”

“My love note?”

“Yeah.”

He kept that piercing yet warming gaze on you. “I’d say that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. You’re the kindest person to ever walk into my life. You look at me and I can’t help staring back. I’d say…you’re amazing. And that I’d be an idiot not to tell you. I’d be even more of an idiot not to show you how I feel.”

Those butterflies returned with a sense of urgency. Hot, twisting excitement buried deep in your belly as his rasping voice sucked you in. It wasn’t a matter of how you would tell him how you feel. It was a matter of when. And this was it.

“How would you show me?”

He stepped in close. “Show you how I feel…” he pondered the question. Searching his mind, Bucky seemed to be in a swirling pit of emotions in front of you. “If I was the old me, before everything, I would take you out to dinner.”

“Check,” you grinned. “Next.”

“Well, then walk you home.”

“Bucky, this sounds like any old Friday–”

“And I’d kiss you.” He was so close yet not close enough. You needed him. The dresser’s edge dug into your back as he stepped towards you again. “I’d kiss you softly so I could savor each second.”

Something hot and urging was burning through you. Then, his hand brushed against your wrist. “Is this okay?”

“Touching me?” Your voice felt heavy.

“Yeah. Touching you.”

Your breathing was rapid and deep, each inhale bringing you one second closer to smashing your lips on his. “Yes.” You were breathless. Then his arm brushed your hip.

“And then…what would happen?”

A wolfish grin crossed Bucky’s face. “Honey, we’d barely make it to the bedroom.”

Warmth rushed to your belly to the core of your body. You wanted to be held by Bucky. Kissed. Licked. Fucked. One more touch and you were sure there wouldn't be anything stopping you. And you were desperate for him.

“Touch me again,” you whispered. The wooden dresser dug into your back but the pain was so faint compared to the toe curling feeling Bucky gave you.

He loomed over you. Skin and vibranium trailed up your jeans until he clamped down on your waist.

“I’m a bit rusty,” Bucky whispered. “But I wanna make you feel good. Tell me if this is okay.”

You feverishly nodded, tugging at the henley he wore. “I want you. I need you.”

Those bright blue eyes darkened as something primal took over. His hips pin onto yours as his knee slides between your legs. You hitch a breath as he leaned into the movement. His tongue dragged across his bottom lip like he was thinking about his next move–contemplating his options.

“That so?” His mouth hovered above yours. Tentatively, Bucky squeezed your waist as his warm breath trailed down your cheeks.

You whined and inched closer until you kissed him. It was soft, just like he said. His lips danced with yours while those hands migrated up to your neck. He circled the delicate skin at your clavicle, tracing it back and forth.

Savoring every morsel of his kiss, you leaned in with a whimpering sigh.

He moaned in reply and twisted his fingers into the back of your hair. He pulled and angled himself so you were pressed more into him rather than the dresser.

“You’re… rusty?” you gasp between kisses.

“I used to be pretty good at this part.”

“Mhm,” you slid your hands down his chest. “I’ll say.”

Within seconds, you were straddling Bucky as he carried you down the hallway. He was strong. Never did you doubt the ex-winter soldier to carry you across your apartment. The man was multitalented.

He kissed you again, tugging on your soft lips with each step to the bedroom. You slide your hips down a little with the hopes of relieving the already budding ache. But it was his bulge that halted your movement.

Bucky pulled back, “shit. You feel that? You feel how hard you make me?”

A mewling moan escaped your lips and you pushed down onto his cock. “So fucking hard.”

He growled when you rutted against him. “Oh, God.”

You liked the way he quivered under your body as if your touch made him desperate to relieve his own ache. His arms pulled you closer, “Christ, I'm not gonna hold out much longer with you doing that to me.”

The bedroom door opened and closed with a quiet thump. His hand was firm on your ass while the other wrapped around your waist as he maneuvers through the pitch-black room.

You nudged against his stiff cock again. “Please.”

Without hesitating, he lowered you to the bed. Bucky dropped to his knees as your pants and underwear were tugged down instantly. It was all his pent-up excitement fueling this sleep deprived man.

As he made a move for your top, you pressed your hands against his chest.

Your tongue flicked between your lips. “Slow down, now it’s your turn. Shirt.”

He grinned, tossing the henley to the floor with your clothes. You pushed him back to admire his chiseled body. But you also couldn't help but stare at the scars. The vibranium.

Bucky moved with you on the bed and nestled between your legs. Any clothes left were tossed over the side, forgotten.

He kneeled above you, heavy eyes scanning your body. Every inch.

“Fuck,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.” He dipped low, nestling himself fully between your opened legs. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

Tentative movements of his hands explored your body. His mouth drags hot, open-mouthed kisses up your inner thighs. Then, that mouth was on your pussy. Gentle and unsure, Bucky started to figure out what you liked. Understanding what wasn’t comfortable. But eventually, he had a handle on it.

He picked up on the way you twisted and pressed down. Sensing your love for his movements, he continued. Your hands gripped the short brown hair on his head. You gasped, “Bucky please.”

He rolled his tongue then flattened it, twisting and stimulating your sensitive clit. His vibranium hand slowly trailed up until it reached your breast. He squeezed as Bucky continued the same pattern over and over. Inching you closer to the inescapable height of your orgasm.

You whined, “oh. Oh, yes.”

“So good. Just like that,” his finger slipped inside. Then another. You bucked up as he curled and fucked you with his thick fingers. “You’re so tight,” he moaned into your pussy between licks. “Come on baby. Just like that.”

“Please,” your hand tugged his hair again. But he wasn’t relenting. Bucky’s fingers continued their rhythmic pattern in and out as his tongue lapped your clit. You cried out, “Fuck, baby—”

He rocked his hips into the mattress. You knew he was still so hard. The image of his hard cock and the feeling of him between your legs sent you over the edge. The throbbing sensation of your orgasm hit you like a train. You cried out, bucking under his weight. It was hot and fast, but you could still feel another orgasm begging for release once again.

His mouth slipped away from your throbbing pussy as he dragged his devilish tongue up your stomach.

To your happy surprise, his thick fingers stayed inside you. Slowly moving in and out as if he could feel your second orgasm building up quickly. His lips trailed to each of your breasts. He nipped at the sensitive skin before finally kissing you.

A breathy gasp escaped your lips. He was relentless with those fingers of his. He grinned, pinning himself against you. His hard cock pressed down on your stomach.

“Bucky.” Your hands traveled down. You squeezed.

Bucky’s eyes rolled back as a gasping moan left his lips. You squeezed again, rubbing up and down his cock already slick with his own pre-cum. “I can help you feel good too.”

He dropped his head, “but I’m not done with you yet.”

“I want to make you feel good too.” You squeezed his cock again. He nearly toppled over. “You deserve it.”

He moaned in response. “Yes, keep goin’ baby. Touch me.” His words were as hot as the room.

In that instance, he moved his thumb back over your clit. His fingers continued to thrust in and out. You grasp his cock again, watching the blue of his eyes deepen. You pumped him, but the stimulation was getting to you.

“S-shit,” you withered. “Fuck, I need you. I knew it the moment–” you gasp as his fingers curl up. “I-I knew it when we went out the first night.”

Breathless, Bucky propped himself up higher. His eyes roamed your body and how determined you were to make him cum with you. “Mm, that’s my girl, getting off at the thoughts of the first date we went on.”

“You looked so g-good.” You mewled, feeling the pinnacle of your orgasm again.

Bucky groaned as you flickered your thumb back over his tip. “What do you need?” It was a statement, a demand, not a question. He knew exactly what you needed. What you wanted.

“I need you.” His mouth found yours as he seamlessly screwed you with his fingers. The moment he brushed over your sore and aching clit for the last time, the spasm rocked over you. Waves of heat rolled over your body.

“Yes, oh, god yes!” It was earth-shattering but you needed more. It was obvious he needed more.

“Inside,” your hand continued to thrust his throbbing cock. He moaned as you squeezed his shaft, rubbing your thumb up the tip. He was not going to last much longer. “Inside me. Now.”

Those blue eyes widened and you opened your legs wider. Grabbing a small pillow from the bed, Bucky nudged it under your hips. He moved slowly as he aligned himself. His tip nudged at your opening.

Fuck, he was huge. No matter how many orgasms you had, his aching cock was bigger than you’ve ever taken.

“Tell me to stop if it hurts.”

He moved in, gently stretching your already relaxing muscles. You gasped as he pushed in a bit deeper.

Those blue eyes shot up to you, “I should stop–”

“No.” You lifted your hips and he slid deeper. You tossed your head back. “Keep going.”

You exhaled as he sunk down to the base of his cock. He pressed into you, leaning above by his elbow. The motions were slow and steady at first as Bucky found a solid rhythm again. You dug your nails into his back as he thrusted deeper. Harder. Faster. He was fucking you so deep, so good.

Bucky kissed you. His vibranium fingers found your clit once more. The sensations were too much to bear.

You cried out in pleasure as he groaned into your neck. Harder. Faster.

A third orgasm wrecked your body. The sensation of his cock slamming into you with the rub of his vibranium thumb on your clit sent chills down your spine. Twisting and writhing under his touch nearly had Bucky spilling over. He bared down on you, feeling every inch of your pussy tighten and throb. You mewled, “oh god yes. Fuck yes.”

When you were finished, he was close behind. It was like he waited for you. Hoping to please you first like he insisted the moment he kissed you.

Bucky slammed into you again and came with a breathy groan. “I knew you could take it,” he grunted, spilling inside as he leaned down to press his sweaty chest against your breasts.

“That’s it,” he moans. “S-so good to me. Take it.”

It was all too much. His body against yours, the feeling of him inside you. You were folding at his touch. With one final rut, he was finished.

Against the bed, Bucky collapsed into you. Both bodies were covered in sweat, panting like it had been the most intensive work out of your lives. He kissed your lips, not bothered to pull out.

He liked how he was still throbbing inside you.

“Wow.” He murmured your name, “That was…you’re amazing.” He brushed your cheek. “Was that okay?”

“Y-you’re kidding, right?” Your chest bounces as you laugh. It wasn’t intentional, but you couldn’t contain yourself.

Bucky lifted enough to see your smiling face and glossed over eyes. You looked drunk on him.

“What?”

“How the fuck are you rusty?”

His tight lips turned into a wide grin as he joined in on the laughter. “We made it to the bedroom at least,” he hovered above your body.

“Barely.”

You smiled. He kissed you. Pressed together, slick with sweat, you held each other tightly.

Sunlight danced across the bedroom leaving a rosy glow everywhere. You stretched, remembering the feeling of his skin pressed against your body.

Remembering last night.

His kisses were hauntingly beautiful. Each time his lips brushed yours, it felt like parts of you were placed back where they belong. Like pieces of yourself had been missing for years and he was putting you back together. You’d never be able to forget the way he felt, the way he tasted.

His kiss would linger on your skin even after tonight because you knew that he was more than just a dream.

He was your reality.

Almost on cue, a strong arm draped across your waist and tugged you backwards.

“Morning,” Bucky yawned.

“Mm, morning. Want some breakfast?” You spot the time on your cell phone wedged onto the nightstand. “Or I guess brunch? I can make waffles.”

His fingers trailed the length of your body and you rolled over until his sturdy chest pressed to your front. “Waffles?”

“Mmhm,” you nestled close. “Only if you want.”

Bucky refused to pull away. Every morsel of his being was tied to you, right here, right now. He smiled. “I do.”

“Perfect,” you grinned.

His pink tinted lips pressed against your temple as his vibranium arm tucked you under his body. Rolling over, he hovered above you. “I happen to make the best cup of coffee in Brooklyn.”

“Well, it just so happens that I love coffee.” You leaned into his embrace as his lips met your eager mouth.

Neither of you moved from bed.

And it was perfect.

-xx-

a/n 2.0 | thanks for indulging in my chaos <3

#Bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #reader x bucky #reader x bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky x y/n #y/n x bucky #no y/n used #no minors please #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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dwailol · 10 months

Text

Hot Shower 🚿❤️‍🔥

ComPOUND: Round 5 of your week alone with Bucky

Summary: [fem reader x Dom Bucky], established relationship. After your training session and office visit, you’re both ready for a nice shower ;)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🔞

WARNINGS ⚠️: smut, fingering, oral (m receiving), p in v, c in v, praise kink

WC: 1.2k

We are both gleaming with sweat and riding the high of what just happened in the office. I know round three for the day is on its way. I am about to have some real fun of my own on this one.

One of my favorite things about the compound is my shower. It’s everything a girl can dream with a detachable head and a variety of settings. I also like that’s it’s got a nice ledge to sit on and enough room for two should you find yourself a buddy or… Bucky.

We walk to my bathroom. I strip off the only thing left I was wearing then throw it behind me for him to catch. He grips the shirt tight and examines it with a devilish grin. He catches up to me to grab me from behind. I come to a stop by his restricting movements. He squeezes my breasts then gives me a firmmmm smack on the ass.

“Angel, you better watch out or I’m gonna fuck you so hard in that shower you slip and damn near break something.”

“Hopefully the only thing you break is my back,” I tease. He gives me a surprised smirk - a bring it on kind of smirk.

“Ask and you shall receive. Now let’s go clean up that dirty little mouth of yours,” he parts my mouth wide open with his flesh thumb. I grab his hand to capture his thumb in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around it looking for eyes of approval. His own jaw drops a bit.

“That’s a good girl.”

I release his hand, “Only for you.”

He grabs my face tight and smashes our mouthes together in an intense kiss.

“That’s right. Only mine.”

We continue walking to my shower. He turns the heat up high. Who would’ve thought the Winter Soldier likes hot showers. I look at him with a waiting smile as he turns back to me. He steps forward to push me against the wall.

“Gotta wait for it to heat up first,” he brings his hand to massage the inside of my thigh. I feel myself getting wet. I wrap my arms around his neck. Our lips melt together in a steamy make out session.

His vibranium hand lifts up my leg so that my soaking cunt is exposed. He starts fingering me and the wet noises are as loud as the shower. I look up at him with eyes full of desire. When I feel myself pulse around his fingers, I bite down on my lip. My sharp breath fills with steam. I look over towards the shower and he stops.

“I think it’s ready,” I say hesitantly. I don’t want this to stop but I also want to see what he plans to do to me. He grips my thigh tightly.

“But are you ready? Cause I’m not,” he shoves me back harder into the wall. His fingers jam back inside me. He moves them back and forth quickly and firmly. His thumb moves in circles around my clit.

“Oh my god Bucky. Fuck! Bucky you’re about to make me-“ I gasp before I can finish my sentence. A rush of pleasure explodes inside me around his fingers. My face relaxes and my mouth softens into a big O.

“Made you cum Angel? Now do that thing again that earned you that.”

He takes his fingers and puts them in my mouth. I suck them and swirl my tongue around them like he likes. I take his hand out my mouth.

“Are we ready to shower now?” I ask meekly.

“You mean, am I ready to fuck you senseless and watch you choke on my cock and the steam? Hell yeah. Get your pretty ass in there and sit on the ledge.”

I do as he says. He shuts the glass door behind him.

“What a perfect little fuck seat you have in here. Let me guess,” he removes the shower head, “you use this to pleasure my pretty pussy when I’m not here.” He plays with the buttons to see the different settings. He finds my favorite jet speed and I can’t help but press my lips together in interest. He examines my reaction and cocks his head to the side.

“Open your legs.”

I give a satisfying “mmh” as the jet massages my clit.

“What do we say?”

“Thank you so much for letting me cum.”

“My girl minds her manners so well. Let’s put that mouth to use for other things.”

He puts the shower head back up. He grabs the sides of my head and puts his wet cock in my face. I grab onto his shaft and start to stroke and suck. He groans as his cock hits the back of my throat. I lick it up and down and stare at him wanting praise. He looks down and smiles. He pulls my hair a little.

“You’re being so good for me. It’s time to get fucked like the dirty girl you are.”

I part my head from his cock. He picks me up and twists me so I’m facing the side wall. I put my hands forward to grab the wall as he nearly slams me against it. He bends me over and pushes his cock inside me. He moves sloppy although he enters with such ease.

His vibranium hand stays clutching my hip and his flesh hand clasps at my breasts. I scream with pleasure at his beat. He’s going absolutely crazy with his pace. He grunts with pride. The steam of the water and the fresh sweat on our skin are indistinguishable.

“Fuck. You feel so good Angel,” I feel him slip a little. He brings his other hand back to my hip. I lose my balance a bit and bend over more. He brings his thumb over my clit again. He rubs harder than earlier knowing he’s overstimulating me. I’m not sure what number this is for me today at this point. I’m gasping for air and my face starts to blush.

“Please don’t stop. You have me so close again. Thank you. Please don’t stop!” He goes harder and faster. I shriek and shriek until I feel it happen again.

“Like I said, ask and you shall receive. Get ready to take my cum.” He fucks me. He fucks me. He’s fucking fucking me so good goddamnit.

“Please give me your cum! I want it so much!”

“Good because you’re about to get it!” He pulls my hands behind my back. I yell with surprise. He moves through me like a jackhammer, “That’s right you take this cock!”

With a deep breath and moan he cums inside me. As he pulls out he has more that he releases on my back. Showering me in more ways than one.

“Let’s get you actually cleaned up,” he lathers my loofah in soap. He rubs it up my back to clean himself off me. I stand back up sure to grind my ass on him. He muffles a laugh. The loofah glides up from my hips to my breasts as he massages the soap on my skin.

I return his service and we hop out. I wrap up in a towel and we get close on my bed.

“And after all that not a single bone broken. A damn miracle,” he says jokingly disappointed, “But my dirty girl is all clean now. Quick question, do you ever wash the wings?”

“They spray me down with a hose outside.”

“Haha… you’re so fucking funny.”

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wheredafandomat · 2 years

Text

More than anythin’

Bucky x female reader (FINALLY)

18+ | contains smut and a bit of a breeding kink

You stepped backwards into your bedroom, lips pressed to Bucky’s as he kissed you feverishly, closing the door behind him as he walked in, hands roaming the sides of your body. You kicked your shoes off, beginning to undress one another, barley breaking for air. Once in your underwear, you felt Bucky’s hands smooth over the contours of your body as he looked at you, eyes blown with lust. Pulling the waistband of his boxers, you caught his attention again as the band snapped against his body. His gaze snapped to yours before he lowered you against the bed. Settling between your legs, he hooked his thumbs underneath the elastic of your panties, pulling them down slowly as you excitedly awaited his next move. Inhaling deeply, Bucky hummed in appreciation as the smell of your arousal flooded his senses. You gasped, feeling his tongue against your clit as he widened your legs.

“Buckyy.” You exhaled, eyes closing as he opened you with his tongue, working his way through your folds. Your hips rocked steadily against his face as he sucked your clit, his name continuing to fall breathlessly from your lips. He ground his hips into the bed, trying to dim the ache of his cock straining, desperately wanting to be buried inside of you. Your taste as well as your breathy moans were driving him insane. “Bucky I’m soo close.” You whimpered, hand tangled in his hair as you held him against you. Bucky’s tongue drew fast circles over your clit leaving your legs shaking as you came, Bucky contently drinking you up. You floated down from your high before you grew needy again, seeing Bucky sitting up with his cock restrained by his boxers. “I want to feel you.” You spoke, biting your bottom lip as you looked up at him.

“Yeah?” He grinned.

“Mmm.” You hummed happily.

Pulling his boxers down and exposing his cock, Bucky palmed himself as he knelt between your legs. His eyes mapped your body hungrily as he stared down at you leaving you squirming under his intense gaze. Still gripping his cock, he began running the tip through your slick folds, hooded eyes looking down as he watched his own movements. A small whine left your lips, prompting Bucky to enter you. Slowly, he sank inside of you, bottoming out with an exhale. He gave you a few moments to adjust as your eyes closed tightly, a strangled moan leaving you. Reaching down, he captured your lips again, you kissing him back.

“Fuck me.” You murmured into the kiss before Bucky began moving his hips at a steady pace. Your already sensitive walls clenched around him as every vein against his length felt prominent against you. He began slow, his strokes deep as you moaned his name before you reached behind him, pulling him further into you, beckoning him to fuck you harder. Abiding, Bucky began increasing his movements, your name falling from his lips.

“You like that?” He asked, swivelling his hips.

“Yesss.” You practically screamed.

“Takin me so good baby.” He praised, continuing the movements of his hips.

“Fuckk, Bucky.” You cried, nails digging into his back.

“Such a good girl.” He praised, hand finding the back of your leg before he draped it around his hip, driving further into you.

“Buckyyy.” You screeched as he fucked you into the mattress.

“Can’t wait to cum inside you.” He spoke through gritted teeth causing your stomach to flip as you lifted your hips upwards to meet his. “Fill you up soo good.”

“Pleasee.” You whined, eyes opening to meet his ones. Reaching between you both, Bucky used two of his fingers to circle your clit. “I’m soo closeee.”

“That’s it beautiful, cum for me.” He smiled, still working on your clit as he fucked you. “Cum for me again and I’ll fill you up okay.”

“Buckyy.” You moaned out, your orgasm claiming you as your walls clenched tightly around Bucky, toes curling as you came, Bucky thrusting into you a few more times before he came too, emptying into you with a grunt. He pulled out of you after a while, using his fingers to scrape the cum that trickled down your thighs back up into you. “I love you.” You smiled lazily up at him as he pecked your lips.

“I love you too baby.” He replied, reciprocating your smile before he stood up. “I’ll go grab a towel or something.” He spoke, heading towards the bathroom. Meanwhile, you grinned, hatching a plan for a surprise in your head as you quickly got up.

When Bucky walked back into the room, his face lit up seeing you waiting for him, ass in the air. His cock twitched at the sight. Smirking, he dropped the damp hand towel he held and slapped your ass causing you to giggle.

“Already ready for me again baby.” He chuckled, slapping your ass again before his hand settled on your hip. Instead of answering, you wriggled your hips backwards, feeling his cock against you. “Alright alright.” He laughed, palming himself again before he entered you, pumping into you as you gripped the sheets beneath you. His rhythm quickly grew rampant as he grunted behind you, hips slamming into yours with force as you moaned his name. He was so deep, fucking into you with so much wilfulness. You mated like animals, Bucky’s hand coming around to lay flatly against your stomach.

“Fuck, Buckyyy.” You groaned, cheek pressed against the sheets as you nearly collapsed against the bed.

“Want me to give you a baby?” Bucky cooed in your ear, kissing down your back. “Fill you up till you’re leaking?” He spoke softly.

“Yes yess.” You begged. Bucky’s hand moved lower, playing with your clit as he continued entering you, tipping you over the edge with one harsh thrust leaving you falling onto the bed, Bucky ejaculating inside of you as he fell above you, your own orgasm consuming you.

“Fuck!” Bucky panted, catching his breath back before collapsing next to you, pulling you against him. Draping a leg over him, you settled with your head on his chest.

“I really do love you.” You smiled, pecking his chest.

“More than anythin doll?” He teased.

“More than anythin.” You repeated, mimicking his voice.

“Love you too sexy, more than anythin.” He answered, kissing your temple.

Finally some Bucky x y/n 😁 hope you enjoyed it! This was my first time writing anything like this but I was thinking nah, it’s good to try new things 😏😂

Tags even though this isn’t Loki:

@lokisninerealms @lokiprompts @mischief2sarawr @lulubelle814 @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @vickie5446 @cabingrlandrandomcrap

#bucky x female reader smut #bucky barnes smut #reader x bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky smut #bucky fic #bucky fluff

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princessmisery666 · 6 months

Note

Fake fic title: Wild Flowers at Sunset

Summary: Bucky uses an inopportune time to let you know how he feels about you.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: confident reader, Bucky being cocky (that’s a warning), sex work mentioned, prelude to smut, love confession.

W/C: 1,134.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, you, OMC.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

A/N: thank you @justagirlinafandomworld for the inspo (even thought it took a while to kick in 💟)

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch

Graphics: made by me on canva.

Master Lists: Made Up Fic Titles // Bucky Barnes // All The Fandoms

“You’re doing great,” Bucky talks into his glass, taking a sip of the amber liquid that is never going to get him drunk. “Guy’s putty in those beautiful hands of yours.” Though he’s sitting across the bar, you're wearing an earpiece. He has a clear view of you and sees the corner of your mouth quirk up slightly. Then he can’t help himself. “God, this dude is a loser,” he sighs, “He hasn’t even asked one question about you. No wonder he has to pay for it.”

There’s that half smirk again, hiding behind a sip of your Appletini - which he knows you hate - but your date insisted on ordering for you.

“Head of a tech startup company,” Bucky scoffs, “that’s code for I’m a keyboard warrior living in my Mom’s basement.”

You splutter around your glass, and your date, Oliver, has the sense to offer you a napkin. “Sorry,” you say to your date, voice as sweet as your drink, but the finger you use to scratch your cheek flips Bucky off, and then he’s the one laughing.

“Sorry, doll.” Though he really isn’t. He’s bored as hell and knows you are, too. But he signed up for this to make amends, help the police and all the other agencies with letters, and some without, to bring down the bad guys.

That’s how he’d met you, an undercover agent for the FBI. He felt like he’d lucked out when they’d introduced you as his handler. He didn’t like that word, and the grimace on his face must have said as such because you’d piped up - “We’re partners, Mr. Barnes. We have each other’s back. No one’s handling anyone,” you stated, looking directly at your boss. But as soon as you’d turned back to Bucky and winked, “The handling comes after hours,” he knew he was in for a wild time.

This Oliver guy is wanted in connection with a series of missing escorts. Back in Bucky’s day, no one cared about a missing prostitute, but times have changed, and the price has certainly increased. An intimate encounter with one of the ladies from “The Girlfriend Experience” - a very exclusive and high-end escort service - is upward of three thousand dollars for a few hours.

“So, roughly a thousand dollars a minute,” you’d shrugged, smirking cheekily.

“I’d get way more than my money’s worth,” he countered, tongue slipping out to lick at the flirty smile he gave you in return.

You’d sauntered closer, pressed your body into his, and whispered, “Oh, I’d let you take a turn for free.”

So here you are, on a date with Oliver, earning his trust and waiting for him to either A-say something incriminating (which was likely given his affinity for talking about himself) or B-offer you money for sex (a criminal offense).

But damn, this man is a drip. Watching paint dry would have been more entertaining, and Bucky felt deeply sorry for you having to fake a smile and flirt with such a wet blanket of a person.

“Go to the bathroom,” Bucky says.

You subtly shake your head, eyes never leaving Oliver’s, hanging on his every word.

“Just want to remind you, all of this is being recorded,” he grins, sees your eyes flick to his in the mirror, and lifts his brow, silently making his request again.

You look back to Oliver, lean in closer, place your hand atop his on the bar, and gently stroke your fingers along his skin. Bucky can feel the burn on his own skin, the scrape of your nails as your fingers trail higher with every delicate caress. Oliver grins widely. He thinks he’s got you, hook, line and sinker.

But Bucky knows better. “Hey Doll,” he says cheerily, “remember our first date?”

You give him nothing.

“I took you for a picnic on the beach. I wore that blue suit you like, and you wore the lilac dress that hugs you everywhere. I was worried you’d get cold, but I shouldn’t have. By dessert, we were as naked as the wildflowers dancing to the sunset…”

You abruptly hop off the bar stool, “Excuse me, Oliver. Need to use the ladies’ room.”

Bucky knows better than to be smug about getting his own way; he’ll pay for it later in some form or another, but he looks forward to his punishment.

“Pausing comms,” Bucky says, “bathroom break,” for when the brass listens later even though it's obvious what’s going on, but he doesn’t care as he taps the device in his pocket.

He counts forty-five seconds after you pass through the door toward the bathrooms and then follows after you. All three stall doors are closed, but only one of the dials shows occupied. Before he can lift his hand to knock, the door opens, and you yank him inside.

“You’re pushing your luck, Barnes,” you warn.

He surrenders, arms up, palms out. “It was the only way I could get you in here.”

“For what?”

“This.” His fingers pinching your chin are soft, but the kiss he delivers is anything but. He’s famished, as if he hasn’t tasted you in weeks when, in reality, it’s only been a few hours. But that’s how you make him feel. With every beat of his heart, he’s wild and aching and destitute until he has you in his grasp.

The Appletini is still heavy on your tongue, and he washes it away with hungry sweeps of his whiskey-laced one. His hands slip down your leg to the hem of your skirt, hiking it up with every squeeze and grope of your soft thigh.

Your hands roam under his shirt, nails digging into his stomach, before slipping down to the waistband of his jeans.

He holds back a groan when he reaches your inner thigh and finds no more material between his hand and your heated core.

You pull back, a wicked grin revealing your teeth, and as he opens his mouth to tell you that you’ll be the death of him, you stuff your panties into his mouth.

You step back, readjusting your dress, “You can get me as naked as those wildflowers again later.” You wink. “Right now, we have a job to do.”

With that, you breeze out of the door and back to your date.

He waits sixty seconds after you leave, stuffing your panties into his jacket pocket and giving his cock a chance to realize his punishment came earlier than expected before he follows after you.

He settles back into his barstool, catches your eye in the mirror, and the feeling tingles from the very tips of his toes to the top of his head, serenity, calm, absolute, unwavering belief. He mutters, “I love you,” into the coms.

Oliver ends up wearing your Appletini.

Master Lists: Made Up Fic Titles // Bucky Barnes // All The Fandoms

Tags: @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @deandreamernp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @foxyjwls007 / @imjess-themess / @justagirlinafandomworld / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @nancymcl / @stoneyggirl2 / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @xoxabs88xox / @dempy / @kmc1989

Tags Info - My tag lists are open. Please complete this form. You don’t need a google account to fill it in. Using the form makes it easier to track.

💟Alternatively follow my library blog and turn on notifications. I only post my fics. @princessmisery666-library

#bucky barnes #made up fic titles #bucky barnes x reader #reader x bucky barnes #flirty bucky #marvel #mcu #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #fluff #fun #fluffy fun #mild smut #just a smidge

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playbucky · 1 year

Text

Love, Honey.

Y/N is a stripper, and Bucky is a Mafia leader along with his friend Steve. When the pair of them come to the business to ask a deal with Natasha, Y/N’s business partner and best friend. A lot of history is being upturned. Characters – Reader, Bucky, Steve, Natasha. Word Count – 2.8k

‘Nat, we gotta do something about Richie.’ You said, pushing the door to your friends office, not noticing the two men lounging in the chair across from the redhead. ‘He’s grop -,’ ‘Y/N.’ Nat said sternly, you looked up making eye contact with her before Nat gestured to the men. You looked at them, smiling before turning back to her. ‘What are we going to do?’ You asked her, she arched an eyebrow smirking. ‘We can help?’ The blonde offered; you shook your head. ‘Thanks but we like to handle it in house.’ You told him, watching his blue eyes shine. ‘You can take care of him.’ Nat said, your head whipped around to her, the curls you had expertly put in your hair early wrapped around our neck. ‘Really?’ You asked hopeful, she snickered. ‘Yeah, let our guests see how the team works.’ She stated, you raised an eyebrow before turning, quickly walking away. You could hear the men’s heavier steps as your heels clicked, feeling their gazes on your back since you were wearing the black pants and matching bra, but had a sheer dress that didn’t leave anything to their imagination. You quickly marched across the busy room, ignoring the stares from the men and few women that watched your quick steps, in the dangerously high heels. ‘Y/N.’ Richie said, stretching his hand out at his sides, Peggy and Maria moved away from him, when they saw Nat a few steps behind you. ‘Richie.’ You said with a smile as you bent over him, keeping your legs straight giving him the perfect view of your cleavage. ‘What have we said about handling the woman?’ You asked, he smiled wider. ‘They like it, they always like being man handled.’ He said cockily, your tutted before standing up, lifting your foot. Resting your toes on the edge of the seat between his spread legs. His rough hand automatically wrapped around your calve. Taking a deep breath you smiled sweetly, reaching out with your opposite hand. Your fingers sliding through his shoulder length, greasy hair as he looked up at you. Grabbing his hair, you watched his pupils dilate before you yanked his head forward. It connected, with a snap, against your knee. ‘You bitch.’ He hissed, pulling away and cupping his, hopefully, broken nose. ‘You touch the girls again, I’ll break your nose then I’ll give your little man,’ you glanced to his crotch, ‘A new hole to pee out of.’ You finished, dropping your foot down onto the ground. ‘Understand?’ You asked him, he nodded before standing up and moving past her, scurrying past everyone else. ‘That was interesting.’ The blonde said, you turned back to them, then turned to the girls. ‘Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you?’ You asked, they shook their heads. ‘Good, take a breath, grab a drink on the house.’ You said, they nodded before slowly walking away. ‘Steve, James, I’d like you to meet, Honey, my -,’ ‘They just saw me threaten a man with my heel, you can tell them my name.’ You stated, Natasha arched an eyebrow. ‘Okay, fellas this is Y/N, my partner.’ Natasha said, the brunette man eyebrows furrowed as the blondes shot up, almost touching his forehead. ‘We were told you don’t have a partner.’ James said, Natasha smiled as she moved around to stand at your side ‘Y/N prefers to stay in the background, half of the money that went into this place is Y/N’s.’ Nat said, both the men looked at you. ‘So why do you dance?’ James asked. ‘Dancing since college, trying to make money but now…’ You told them, looking around the room. ‘Now I, we, help others. Give them better care than your nine to five jobs do.’ You stated, the men arched their eyebrows before nodding. ‘Do you need me to sit in the rest of the meeting?’ You asked, looking at Natasha before you both turned to Steve and James. ‘We want to go into business with you.’ Steve said, you titled your head, surprised at how forward he was. ‘Why?’ You asked, Nat gently whacked your bare arm. ‘What, two leaders come to us and show interest. Last time that happened, he who shall not be named tried to take over.’ Nat commented, James and Steve watched as Y/Ns eyes glazed over. ‘We don’t want to take over.’ James said, you arched an eyebrow. ‘Our plan is to take all your buildings under our name, still working together but we want to protect it.’ He said, both you and Natasha’s eyebrows dropped. ‘Protect?’ You asked, they nodded. ‘We’re aiming to reduce drugs, we know it’s impossible to fully stop it but slow down and help users.’ He explained, holding eye contact with you.

‘Hey doll.’ Bucky said, you didn’t reply to him as you kept your head in the freezer. ‘Doll?’ He asked, stepping closer, ‘What are you doing?’ He continued, reaching out and touched your shoulder. You took a deep breath as you stood up, shutting the door as you turned to him. Keeping an eye shut as you rested the ice pack against it. Bucky’s eyes widened before all emotion dropped from his face. ‘What happened?’ He asked, his hands coming up and cupping your cheeks. ‘I fell -,’ ‘Bullshit.’ ‘Bucky, I’m wearing nine-inch heels.’ You pointed you, lifting a foot up balancing on a heel, unwavering. Just proving his point. ‘And you’ve never fell before.’ He stated. ‘How would you know, you don’t watch my every move.’ You commented. ‘Trust me doll, I’ve watched your since you marched into Nat’s office bitching about a customer.’ He admitted, you scoffed and shook your head. ‘So, you gonna tell me what happened?’ Bucky asked, you shrugged your shoulders. ‘A fall out with one of the girls, I’m fine and it’s been sorted.’ You told him, the corners of your lips curled up. He reached up and cupped your hand carefully pulling it away, you kept the ice bag in your hand before he looked at the bruise. He dropped your hand before gently brushing his finger across it. ‘It’s not that bad.’ He said, you tilted your head forward. ‘I know, I’ll ice it tonight.’ You told him. ‘Oh, there goes my plans of asking you out.’ He commented and chuckled. ‘Bucky, we haven’t left my apartment in the last four days, unless it was for me to come to work.’ You said, he straightened and looked down at you, smiling before stepping closer. ‘Well you certainly haven’t been complaining.’ He replied, you stuck your tongue between your teeth as you tried not to laugh. ‘I need to go. My show starts in five minutes.’ You told him, he nodded as the familiar music of Wanda’s dance filled the building. ‘You look good baby.’ He called out as you walked away, you looked over your shoulder. ‘Always do honey.’ You replied, sending him a wink. ‘Steve.’ You said when you opened the door to reveal the tall blonde. ‘Y/N.’ He greeted you, before he could say anything else you were running down the stairs, still confusing him with the height of the heels. Turning to Bucky, he took in the wide eyes before he chuckled. ‘Damn you are one love sick puppy.’ He commented, Bucky’s eyes snapped to him.

‘Y/N?’ Bucky called out, looking around. ‘Y/N?’ He called again. ‘She’s not here.’ Wanda said, Bucky turned to her watched as she gently touched the cut across her forehead. ‘What do you mean?’ He asked, watching she wiped the blood down the side of her shirt. ‘He took her.’ Wanda told them, Natasha bent down and picked a chair up. ‘Who Wanda?’ Natasha asked. ‘Rumlow. Brock Rumlow.’ Wanda said, Natasha froze fixing the chairs as she whipped her head around to the other redhead. ‘Why would Rumlow want her?’ Bucky asked, Wanda shrugged her shoulders before Bucky turned to Natasha. ‘Nat?’ He asked, she didn’t reply and he stalked over to her.She didn’t back away as Bucky leaned down to her. She refused to make eye contact until he snapped his hand out, grabbing her jaw. ‘Why does that scumbag want her?’ Bucky quizzed, forcing her head back to look him in the eyes. ‘Y/N is his girl, was his girl.’ Natasha managed out, Bucky let go. ‘What do you mean his?’ Bucky asked, anger filling his chest at the thought of the scumbag touching her. ‘They dated about five years ago, she was a dancer at his club and just like you he took a liking to her.’ She pointed out, jabbing a finger into his chest, ‘They dated for a year, she broke it off and left.’ ‘In his brain Y/N is still his and will forever be his.’ Natasha finished, holding eye contact with him. ‘Why aren’t we informed about him?’ Sam asked, Natasha turned to him. ‘He hasn’t been around for two years.’ She told them. ‘Why now?’ Steve asked, Natasha scoffed.‘Because you all showed up, showing your interest in my girls.’ Natasha spat out, angrily fixing the chair before shoving it under the table. ‘Na -,’ ‘No, Y/N said it was a bad idea we discussed and -,’ she breathed out, covering her mouth and nose, gasping. ‘I am not losing her, not to that dickhead.’ She breathed out, ‘Not again.’ Her legs gave out from underneath her and she collapsed to the ground.

Bringing your crossed legs up the metal chain clinked, resting your chin atop of your knees, you wriggled your bare toes. The cold tiles underneath your bum were creating a chill and causing your bum to go numb, there was a bed across the room, but your refused to sit or even lie in it. ‘Y’know sweetheart it would be easier if you gave in.’ His rough voice filled the room, you tilted your head so you could see the dark eyes looking at you. ‘Rot in hell.’ You spat out, he chuckled.The door was pulled open, you kept your focus on the floor. You flinched with every step, the low heels of his dress shoes echoed around the room. When they stopped, you flicked your gaze up seeing the polished shoes. You clenched your jaw as he crouched down, his hand grabbed your chin and tilted your head back. ‘It’d be a shame if something were to happen to your face.’ He said, you narrowed your eyes at him. ‘Untie me and it’ll be a fair fight.’ You said. ‘Fair?’ Rumlow asked, you nodded once. ‘You’ve always been scared that I could win.’ You told him, he scoffed as his gaze darted to the chain that was attached to your ankle. ‘You so sure about that?’ ‘Untie me.’ You snarled, Rumlow’s lips curled up.

‘Y/N?’ Nat said, you looked at her, the bags under her eyes resembled yours before she quickly crossed the room and wrapped her arms tightly around your shoulders. Pulling you up off the hospital bed. ‘You’re okay.’ Nat breathed out, either to comfort herself or you, but you didn’t care as you grabbed tightly onto her arms. ‘I killed him Nat.’ You breathed out, she pulled away and looked you dead in the eyes. ‘Rumlow?’ She questioned, you brought your lips between your teeth. ‘Yeah.’ You answered. ‘Good on you. Bucky will be pissed he can’t do it.’ She commented, you tensed up slightly and she pulled away. ‘I can’t dance, not for a while.’ You said, ignoring the fact that she brought up Bucky. ‘You aren’t coming to work.’ She said, you shook your head. ‘I can’t be alone.’ ‘Bu -,’ she started, you quickly you shook your head. ‘I’ll stay in the office, I promise.’ You told her, she opened her mouth before nodding, brushing her hand down your head, trying to tame your knotted and messy hair. ‘You’ll need to talk to him eventually.’ Nat said, you lowered your head. ‘I will but I don’t want to see the look of pity he’ll give me.’ You told him, you know what that look could do and it might break you. ‘He’s out in the hall.’ Nat told you, you slumped in the bed. ‘Please, tell him I’m too tired or doctors have to run tests.’ You said, her brows wrinkled as she looked at you before nodding. ‘Okay, but you should know that he didn’t give up, he spent days searching everything he could and nights he followed all the leads.’ Nat told you, you rubbed your lips together. ‘And I’m grateful but I can’t face him just now.’ You told her truthfully. ‘Y/N, what happened with Rumlow last time or even this time will be smothered by the love that man has for you.’ Nat informed you, making the tears run to the surface. ‘I know that, but I can’t face his love when I’m broken on the inside.’ You told her truthfully, touching your chest, catching sight of the raised burns around your wrists, ones that matched your ankles. ‘Okay, okay.’ She said soothingly. ‘I’ll tell him.’ She added, you sniffed loudly but nodded.

‘Y/N?’ Bucky called, you lifted your head. ‘Bucky, what are you doing here?’ You asked, he looked good in the all black suit. ‘You’re better?’ He asked, you could feel yourself shrinking under his intense stare as he took you in. You were wearing mum jeans, the blue fabric hanging loose over your legs as you paired it with trainers and a black long-sleeved top. ‘I am.’ You agreed, he rubbed his lips together as he nodded. ‘What are you doing here?’ You asked him again, tucking your hair behind your ear. ‘I’ve got a meeting with Nat.’ Bucky said, you closed your eyes. ‘So do I.’ You told him, he narrowed his eyes. ‘There isn’t any way she’s double booked us, is there?’ He quizzed, you shook your head before you spotted your red headed friend, reach into the room and pull the door shut. ‘Nat.’ You called out, she managed to give you a wave before shutting the door completely, the lock clicked. ‘Nat?’ You questioned, trying the handle but it wouldn’t budge. ‘I’m not letting either of you out before you make up, none of us can take the pining anymore.’ She commented, you leaned forward and let your head hit the door and sigh. ‘God dammit Nat, we aren’t teenagers.’ You sighed, you heard her laughing before she walked away. ‘How is she meant to hear us if she’s left?’ You asked, pushing yourself away from the door and made your way over to one of the leather chairs. You had noticed that Bucky was now standing in front of the window, his hands tucked in his pockets as he focussed on something outside. You started to drum your fingers on the arm of the chair, before you let out a huff of air and flung your head back and shut your eyes. ‘Why haven’t you talked to me?’ Bucky asked, his voice filling the room. ‘I haven’t had a reason.’ You said, his head dropped. ‘Y/N.’ He said, you opened your eyes and looked at the unit. ‘Bucky?’ ‘You were taken by that man and you don’t even talk about it.’ Bucky said, you shook your head as you took a small step back. ‘Because if I talk about it, it becomes real.’ You spat out, he turned to you, watching as you bounced your leg up and down. ‘That man whether he is dead or alive, has and will haunt me.’ ‘He took everything from me, and I thought I was safe but then he appears back and everything is in a loop.’ You said, rotating your fingers in a circle. ‘I can’t love someone like you, when I am so fucked up in here.’ You told him, moving your fingers to tap the side of your head. ‘You love me?’ He said, his blue eyes widened as he looked at you, you wanted to be annoyed that he only took that from the conversation, but he looked so hopeful. ‘It’s kinda hard not to.’ You glanced at him to see his wide eyes, ‘You are most the populations dream man.’ You added, giving him a smile. ‘No, you love me. Not loved, love.’ He said, you looked away from him but nodded. ‘Yeah, I love you and I can’t stop it.’ ‘Well don’t.’ Bucky said, your eyebrows shot up.‘What?’ You questioned. ‘I love you, I have since well you -,’ He admitted. ‘Marched in and bitched about Richie?’ You asked, he chuckled but shook his head. ‘No, I think it was actually when you broke his nose on your knee.’ He said, head tilting to the side. ‘He had to three stitches.’ You told him proudly, Bucky smiled. ‘I know, Steve and I paid him a visit the next day.’ He informed you, you leaned back. ‘You threatened him?’ You quizzed, he gave you a sheepish smile. ‘Maybe.’ He said slowly, the pink tint taking over his cheeks giving you his answer. ‘How many did you do that to?’ You asked him. ‘I am not disclosing that information.’ He commented, his blue eyes darting to the ground. ‘Bucky?’ You warned, he shook his head.

#bucky barnes x reader #reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #marvel x reader #reader x marvel #marvel imagines #marvel #the winter solider #sebastian stan

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princessmisery666-library · 2 months

Text

Wildflowers At Sunset

Summary: Bucky uses an inopportune time to let you know how he feels about you.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: confident reader, Bucky being cocky (that’s a warning), sex work mentioned, prelude to smut, love confession.

W/C: 1,134.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

READ IT NOW: Tumblr // AO3

#bucky barnes #made up fic titles #bucky barnes x reader #reader x bucky barnes #flirty bucky #marvel #mcu #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #fluff #fun #fluffy fun #mild smut #just a smidge #reader insert

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inviswounds · 2 years

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Some Girl - Bucky Barnes

WARNINGS: Mention of sex/adult themes.

SUMMARY: You and Bucky have been together secretly for the past couple of weeks.

A/N: Posting these on Tumblr for the bucky fans :)

*Your POV*

"Good morning, doll." I heard a voice say. I hesitantly open my eyes and see Bucky laying in my bed. His brunette hair was messy and his voice was deeper than usual; his blue eyes were piercing. I rub my eyes and groan.

"Morning," I reply, gently rolling over and wrapping my arms around him. Our bodies were now pressed together. We both smiled as we stared into each other's eyes, trying our best to read the other person's thoughts. "What?" I asked, giggling. His hands moved along my body, and his eyes followed them before coming back to meet mine.

"You're just really beautiful." He says, licking his lips. I playfully roll my eyes and roll over to face the other way. He lets out a load groan, "come back to me." I laugh as I grab my phone from the bed side table before finding my way back into Bucky's arms. He holds me tighter. I scroll through instagram while he cuddles into me, closing his eyes.

"Don't go back to sleep, Buck." I say, forcing him to open his eyes. He squints his eyes at me and furrows his eyebrows. I throw my leg over the top of his and cuddle into him, moving my phone to the side. "We have to get up."

"Can't we just stay like this?"

"I wish." I give him a quick peck on the lips before sitting up. He tiredly flops onto his stomach and throws his face at the pillows. I quickly head towards the bathroom, fiddling with the hair tie wrapping my hair in a messy bun. After a struggle, my hair falls onto my shoulders gently.

I turn on the bathroom light and look at myself in the mirror. I let out a sigh before turning on the tap and splashing my face with the cool water. That always helped me wake up in the morning. I took a deep breath before walking towards the closet to pick my outfit. We didn't have any missions today, but we did have a few meetings and scheduled 'time together' with the rest of the group. Steve thinks it's a good idea to have allocated times where we have to hang out as a group. He says it helps our teamwork. I pull out some comfortable clothes and dress myself. As I turn to look back at my bed, Bucky is still laying there face down.

"Bucky!" I call, he jumps slightly in a panic.

"W-What?" He says tiredly. He looks at you and then at the clock before quickly jumping out of the bed. "Oh shit!" He grabs his clothes from last night and puts them on in a hurry.

"Buck, don't let them see you." I say, as I fiddle through the jewellery on my desk. He nods and runs towards the door before stopping, turning around, and running back to give me a kiss. The quick peck lasted only a second before he rushed out of my room. I licked my lips and smiled to myself.

After I finish getting ready, I head to the main room for Tony's meeting. I presumed it would be about the usual stuff, ya know, someone not doing their chores, or someone messing up on an assignment. He said it wasn't an emergency so it couldn't have been anything too bad. We all sit around the table in the main room, talking amongst ourselves. Tony walks in a few minutes later, of course he had to make his own entrance.

"Right, settle down." He said, standing at the head of the table. The talking died out and we all looked at Tony. He glanced around at all of us while sighing. "Avengers, I hate to be the guy do this," he started. I looked around nervously. "If you're going to have people over, too uh," my eyes widened. Oh god. "You know what i mean,"

"No, Tony, I don't." Clint joked. Tony looked at him and took a deep breath,

"If you're gonna do- that, you can at least clean up after yourselves." He replied. Clint leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed and laughed under his breath. "Please don't leave anyone's lingerie laying around."

"Someone invited a girl over and she left her underwear?" Sam laughed, looking around at everyone to trying to figure out who it was. Tony nodded and raised his eyebrows,

"Anyone want to own up?" He asked. My eyes glance around the people sitting at the table, I also wanted to figure out who it could be. "They were left in the gym." My eyes instantly widen and my lips part. I suddenly remember what Bucky and I had done in the gym yesterday after working out. I quickly look at Bucky, who's eyes were already on mine. His in-concealable panicked face said it all. Everyone turned to look at him slowly.

"Bucky!" Sam gasped, looking at him. Fuck. This was it. Everyone was going to find out about us. He was going to tell them.

"Yeah, uh, it was me." He said. I blinked and turned away, knowing what was about to happen. He gulps, "I just had some girl over, thats all, my bad." My eyes slowly drift back to his, but his are no longer focused on me. He won't even look at me after saying that.

"In the gym? Come on!" Natasha attested, rolling her eyes. Bucky looked around the room apologetically, hoping no one would make a big deal out of this.

"That's weird," Steve added. He looked at Bucky and then at me. Steve had known for a while now that something was definitely going on between the two of us. I laughed nervously and looked down. Bucky looked at me and chuckled slightly.

I looked up to realise everyone's eyes were on me. They could feel something wasn't right. I smiled at all of them and stood up before making my way back to my room. As soon as I reached my room, I could barely hold back my laughter. As if Bucky would just have 'some girl' over. Even though he put on this tough guy act, deep down he was too shy for that.

Later, Bucky came to my room. "Hey," He whispers, shutting the door quietly behind him. I look up from my phone and smile. He wanders over to me and slowly gets on top of me, nuzzling his head into my chest.

"Some girl, huh?" I say. He immediately looks up at me and lightly scrunches his face, trying to find his words.

"Yeah, you know me," he jokes, "just messing with random girls." We both laugh as I pull him back closer to me, wrapping my arms around him. We lay there in silence for a moment, just holding each other. He looks up at me, studying my face. I smile.

"What?" I giggle. Without another word, he places his lips onto mine. I immediately kiss back, reaching my hand to his hair. His hand trails down my back as he slowly pulls me on top of him. As the kiss grew more passionate, I could feel him reaching to my jeans to take them off. He pulled away for a second to look down at my jeans to see what he was doing, but I quickly smashed our lips together hungrily. I grabbed at his shirt, trying to pull it off of him but I couldn't. He laughed between our kisses as he took his shirt off himself. I ran my hands down his chest as the kiss deepened even more. He pushed me onto my back so now he was on top and began pulling my pants down. Before we could go any further, we heard a gasp coming from the door. We immediately stopped and looked up. To our horror, Steve was standing right in the doorway of my bedroom. He blinked in silence for a moment.

"Uh- sorry, um," he mumbled nervously, not knowing whether to leave, cover his eyes or just continue staring in shock.

"It's not what it looks like." I said, beginning to panic. Before I could make up an excuse, or a lie, Bucky had come clean.

"Ok fine we're together," He said, bringing up the sheets to cover you. I gently hit his chest and looked at him in shock. He titled his head and half smiled at me before turning back towards Steve, "Don't tell anyone!" Steve placed his hand on his forehead, still staring at us in disbelief. His mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

"Get out Steve!" Bucky yelled, throwing an arm out. Steve turned to leave, but before he did, he turned back around and looked at us again.

"Wait what? You two?" Steve added, as if it had only just clicked in his brain.

"Steve!"

With that, he swung around quickly and slammed the door shut. Before either of us could say anything, Bucky began to laugh. I pushed him off of me and rolled my eyes playfully,

"That's not funny," I said. He covered his mouth as he rolled over, not believing what had just happened. "He knows about us now!" Bucky quickly pulled me into him, forcing my head onto his chest as he hugged me tightly. I could feel his heartbeat begin to slow as he calmed down. I wrapped my arms around his torso and sighed.

"Hey, y/n," he whispered, tightening his grip.

"Hmm."

"I love you." He said. I froze. We had never said that to each other. I could feel my smile growing on my face as I turned to look at him. He seemed nervous, but quickly relaxed once he saw my expression. I kissed his lips gently, I blinked rapidly as we pulled apart. Before I could get too far, he leaned in for another, lightly kissing my lip as I pulled myself away. I slowly opened my eyes to look at him,

"I love you too."

#buckybarnes #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #buckyxreader #bucky barnes x reader #readerxbucky #reader x bucky barnes #marvel #marvel imagines #marvel fluff #bucky barnes imagines #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky barnes marvel #the winter soldier imagines #the winter soldier fluff

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softevnstan · 1 year

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³.⍭ 𝐈𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 - PART II.

pairing. bucky barnes x gender netural!reader

summary. you couldn't believe the name that graced the file on your desk for your new patient. james 'bucky' barnes. you'd heard of him - even studied some of his history during college for psychology classes. never would you have imagined he'd be sent to your office, looking for help.

a.n. you guys responded really well for part one so i wanted to work on part two. no beta, we die like men. i have no fully formed plan with this so i apologize if i got anyone's hopes up. see part one here (make sure you read that first, otherwise, parts of this won't make sense). i also hate using 'y/n', but i don't know how not to, so i heavily recommend the 'InteractiveFics' chrome extension - it'll automatically correct 'Y/N' to the name of your choosing (and can replace other terms)

w.c. 3.6k

tags. depression mention, suicide mention, ptsd mention, therapy, recovering!bucky barnes, patient x therapist (as a whole for the series), not 100% accurate therapy - based on my own perspective and experiences.

‘What am I doing here?’ Bucky's mind played like a broken record, brain scouring for any reason to excuse himself from this appointment altogether.

Was it too late to slip out of the room? Surely not - the secretary was one of the four people (including himself) that sat in the same gray room, and she didn't seem to be paying too much mind hunched over her desk in a seek-and-find book.

The waiting room was dark - lacking any real windows in the area given it was part of a larger building that housed the offices. Bucky had taken the stairs up to the second floor after stepping into the building and searched the stretched hall for your office number and silver nameplate on the walls. Upon finally finding it, Bucky couldn't help but see it as a blessing and a curse. No more wandering aimlessly with the inkling of tension that'd begun to grow with the anxiety of someone approaching him to potentially redirect him. But it also meant he was now another excuse short for skipping this referral appointment entirely.

When stepping in, the atmosphere wasn't near as comforting as he'd been hoping. The space was dark and dimly lit by the glow of orange lamps; chairs sat neatly along the wall with a coffee table, scattered with magazines that had been flipped through countlessly since they'd been there. There was a rounded desk to the left of entering the room where an older woman sat, glasses sitting on the end of her nose and the signs of aging prevalent in her graying hair. Along the back wall, there are several doors; Individual offices, Bucky's brain supplied.

There were shelves of books and an overwhelming amount of fake plants in the room. The closest window that Bucky could scour out immediately was a narrow, rectangular one. Lone by itself given the layout of the office building not allowing for it. Hardly any natural light seeped into the room. If the actual offices with the therapists were as gloomy as this, Bucky would have better luck abandoning all hope right then and excusing himself. Save him another uncomfortable experience in the mental health field.

Working with Raynor wasn't exactly what Bucky needed as a first experience in therapy. Before the 70 years that he'd spent under HYDRA's thumb, there were no resources like this at home. Mental Health hardly existed as a concept - no awareness of the rippling effects of war or aid for the soldiers that would return traumatized and self-loathing. Hell, men beat their wives back then like property. That was even without the PSTD and fragile masculinity slammed on top.

Not his father, thank a god that Bucky isn't sure he even believes in anymore.

Christina was rough around the edges. A former officer in the military, one would think she may be perfect for the job in regard to Bucky's emotional baggage and the weight he carries. She wasn't. That was something Bucky only began to learn months later with Sam's help; That while Dr. Raynor was not a bad woman, she was not what Bucky had needed to begin opening up to people. The clipped energy that filled a room when sharing a space with Christina made it near impossible to relax fully; When Bucky was being a little difficult on his bad days (yes, he can admit he's difficult), instead of approaching him with patience, Raynor would combat his comments with her own condescending ones. It felt more like a weekly brawl where he had something to prove rather than a safe space to begin the healing process.

It was like ripping open a healing wound, wondering why it wouldn't improve, and being confused when it worsens under brutal treatment.

Dr. Raynor was not what Bucky needed, simply put.

But the one that woman did right with all certainty was to at least aid in redirecting Bucky to someone that can help him produce better results.

That's what landed him there. In the waiting room of your office with an appointment at 3:15 p.m.

Your praise was sung of being someone who was more approachable and positive, albeit not naively so. When Bucky was peering at reviews and your background check - comforting his own paranoia - he'd seen nothing but kind things said. How patient you were. How compassionate; How you make your patients feel heard and understood. How you provide the tools to create a proper support system and show people how to live again. Bucky tries not to get his hopes up for things, but he was certainly beginning to spark hope when he was able to look more into your reviews. It made him want to try again rather than give up.

But sitting in that dim-lit office, he's not sure how confident he is in that statement anymore. Bucky's left leg bounces in an anxious fidget. His shoulders are tight, arms folded over his chest in a closed-off stance while he sits back in one of the empty chairs of the waiting room. To anyone else, Bucky probably looks angry at the world - it's just him hiding his nerves. Never an intentional expression worn, it's simply become a default to wrinkle his forehead and wear a tired face.

Bucky could still leave. The heavy door that he'd pushed open to get in taunts him from where he sits.

And it's right as he's weighing out the consequences of bailing on this idea altogether that the sound of a door opening grabs his attention. Head turning in the direction of the noise, tired eyes squinting slightly for a brief moment when light pours into the room. A woman in roughly her thirties steps out of the first door lining the back wall, followed by you. Bucky is only certain of that fact because he recognizes your face from the LinkedIn profile you have.

"Thank you again for coming in, Greta, I'm looking forward to hearing about your daughter's Bat Mitzvah; tell her happy birthday for me." you tell the woman that's begun her leave.

"Of course, I hope your next session goes well," beams a woman, assumedly 'Greta'.

Bucky sucks his bottom lip in, worrying the skin between his teeth before sighing out through his nose. Attempting to take a steadying breath to appease his nerves when--

"Mr. Barnes?" your voice prompts.

Running away isn't a choice anymore. Not realistically.

So Bucky drops his arms and feels the taut muscles in his shoulders before trying to force them to settle. Rolling broad muscle under his leather coat before pressing off the armrests of the wooden chair with gloved hands to get up. His eyes remain averted from your face, but he crosses the room to you nevertheless.

"It's nice to meet you, James, if you'd please step in here with me," you hold the door open for Bucky; Allowing him to step into the relatively small space.

But it's not suffocating, he notices.

It's actually a stark contrast to the heavy waiting room he'd just been sitting in for the past 10 minutes or so. The light of day pours in from the tall, wide window on the back wall of the room. In the brief space where the window doesn't occupy the wall, there's a bookcase sat with countless psychology books. A soft-looking loveseat is pressed against the wall to Bucky's right, and across from that is a matching single chair with an end table. On the table sits a lamp, a box of tissues, and what appears to be a selection of colorful fidget toys. The walls are hogged by large framed photos; some of paintings, some of hyper-realistic photos or art. The floor is a deep gray-brown carpet, the walls painted a soft eggshell. Plants sit on the shelf in front of the window, drinking in the sun; He spots a Wandering Jew, two cactuses (both different breeds), and a succulent perched comfortably.

"Have a seat," your voice interrupts the way Bucky studies the room, and promptly he moves to the loveseat. Lowering himself into it, it's significantly more comfortable than the chair he was just sitting in. Still, Bucky sits stiffly. Uncomfortable; refraining from letting his back touch the couch and posture coming across as closed up without him even realizing it.

Like a mantra, belittling thoughts play on a broken loop through his head.

This isn't going to work. It's going to end badly. I'm going to be seen as a monster all the same. I'm a bad person, I don't deserve this. Other people deserve it more. I'm wasting everyone's time.

The thoughts spiral heavier and heavier for Bucky, even as you close the door; successfully sectioning him and you off from the rest of the world. His jaw sets as you move to sit across from him.

Bucky silently wishes the moment would end before it's even begun.

He wants to go back to his apartment, even if it makes him just as miserable.

“So, Mr. Barnes, from what I’m understanding, you'd like to make me your primary therapist and discontinue working with Doctor Raynor?”

Bucky wants to heal. You see it in him. The first step is admitting you have an issue; that there is something wrong. Not that Bucky is wrong, but his headspace surely is a defunct mess; The task ahead of you in untangling said mess is daunting, but Bucky is worthy of it. He deserves it. Even if he doesn't realize that yet.

He deserves to have someone who's willing to help him understand and put the pieces back together. Not simply throw their hands up the first time that Bucky struggles and leave him to fend for himself - this man was done far too much fending by himself.

It's clear by the silence followed by the words, 'That’s all I’ll ever ask of you', that Bucky isn't sure what to say. Rather than allowing the quiet to eat at him, you continue the conversation. Save him from the anxiety he might be feeling in being unable to muster a reply.

"So, Bucky - Can I call you 'Bucky'?" You ask, sure to keep a warm and approachable composure. Bucky's comfort is your priority; If he feels unwelcomed, he won't come back.

A stiff nod comes from the man across you. He still struggles to meet your gaze; Eventually, you'll both work on that, but for now, you don't mind. Let him take things at his own pace.

"So, Bucky," you reiterate, leaning back in your armchair and crossing your legs at the ankle. Your shoulders ease and you relax into your seat. "How about we start by getting to know you a little bit; Where you'd like to work first and what some of your immediate issues are, in your opinion."

Bucky's teeth clench - you can tell because his jaw flexes and it pulls on your heartstrings for a moment. His shoulders look so tight, his body so stiff. Chiseled features are hard, and his face doesn't seem nearly as full as you'd seen in museums and textbooks while growing up and learning American History. Dare you even say he almost looks sunken in, with dark rings around his eyes and sadness in gray hues.

You wonder how he sleeps at night - if he even does. If he eats the way he should. It's heartbreaking to see a man carved into such a husk.

"Raynor was working with me to make amends," Bucky starts, and surely that doesn't mean what you think it does-- "To make things right for what I did as the Winter Soldier, as a condition of my pardon."

"There's nothing to make right, Bucky." You answer almost immediately; your blood feeling hot for half a moment. You saw history unfold right before you, living in New York. Hearing the chaos of HYDRA overtaking SHIELD in 2014, that Boy Wonder 'Bucky Barnes' was still alive. Many things were kept from the public, as much as they could be, but one thing was for certain. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together could see that Bucky was another victim of HYDRA's. Not the catalyst for the carnage. An unwilling piece of the puzzle.

You have to stop yourself from becoming too expressive, though. Despite the quickness of your words, you maintain an evenness to them. "Now, I won't pretend to know what's happened with it all; That's something for us to talk about with time. But I can promise you right now, Bucky, that I am not Dr. Raynor. And while we can revise the conditions of your pardon, you won't be trying to fix mistakes you didn't make. We're here to help you."

Another break of silence, and Bucky has begun to fidget with his hands. Kneading them together in his lap; your own gaze flickering briefly to watch the leather rub on leather.

"I... I don't know what to say," Bucky speaks, his voice soft and timid. Unmatching the hardness of his face.

A small crease forms between his brows, eyes downcast but briefly lifting to peer at you.

"You don't have to know what to say right now," you gently tell him. "I know you may not agree with my perspective on things right now, but please hear me when I tell you that I'm not here to judge you. You're a survivor, Bucky."

A soft huff comes from him - lip curling into a crooked grin that's humorless. Bucky shakes his head right after, and the expression falls. You watch curiously.

"I'm sorry, it's... Everyone seems to either look at me like the pariah or like a victim." Bucky explains, and for a moment, your lips form a soft smile. You lean forward, shifting your position once more to lean in a little closer to Bucky's space without outright intruding on it.

"You're a survivor," you reiterate. Making sure he hears it. "And there is no shame in being a survivor - I'm a survivor and don't consider it derogatory, it's exactly what I am."

Bucky's brow knits up slightly and his attention is on you fully. Arguably the longest so far since he's been in this room with you. He looks as though he's searching for something and the answer is somehow embedded in you, and deep down, you want to give him whatever it is he's searching for.

You're a survivor, too. It's what made you good at your job. Being able to empathize to a degree with the individuals that come to you; To be able to share your own experiences and show the person sitting in front of you that they are not alone. People like to feel heard and understood. And sometimes the best way to for that is to sit with someone who's been through something similar.

Though you certainly didn't have experience as a prisoner of war who was genetically engineered...

His pink lips part as though he wants to speak, but whatever words were that die on Bucky's tongue when his mouth clamps shut and he finally averts his attention. You follow his gaze briefly to find him looking out the window parallel to him on his right. The light peeked in through the sheer curtains and lit the side of his face partially. You wonder if the sunlight makes him warm at all.

"Do you want me to draw the curtains for you, Bucky?" You offer, wondering if perhaps it's distracting to him.

Bucky shakes his head. "I'm not used to this." "Can you explain what 'this' is?" You ask, gently prompting him in hopes he keeps talking. "I, uhm..." His voice trails - clearly searching for the words. "You're... Calm. I don't entirely know how to explain it. We haven't been talking that long but I was, uh, intimidated to meet you. My precious therapy experiences haven't been the best..." It's the most he's said in a single sitting, you're impressed.

"And that's alright - sometimes not every therapist works out. Many people struggle to understand that therapy is not a 'one size fits all' matter. Sometimes we have to feel out situations and feel out people. If you decide at any point you're no longer comfortable speaking with me, I understand and will be more than happy to help you find another therapist that can specialize in your concerns." Always deliberate as to not call Bucky's situation 'problems' or 'what's wrong'. The last thing you'd want is for him to feel as though he is the root problem in his life. He's not.

"Thank you," the man murmurs softly, and you can tell it's another moment he's unsure what to say. Even the words feel as though it took quite a deal of effort to muster from Bucky. That's okay - sometimes people need to warm up. You're not surprised in the least that Bucky isn't an open book, you wouldn't be if you went through even half of what he did.

"...I'll tell you what," You begin, Bucky's attention drawing right back to you rather than the world outside the glass. "How about we start small, you and I, okay? We don't have to touch anything heavy yet, we can start simple."

"Simple?" Bucky echoes.

"Mhm," a confident nod from you, "I hope I don't sound rude at all, but I can tell you're someone who's carrying a whole lot more than they let on."

That earns a skeptical look from Bucky. You wonder in a brief moment where you potentially lost him when he answers that question for you:

"I'm sure you can." The response comes out almost irritated. No elaboration.

For a moment your mind scrambles, wondering, before it clicks. Still, you encourage Bucky to use his words. "What do you mean?"

A long sigh comes through his nose. "Oh, c'mon," he tries, but you simply look expectantly. Bucky needs to communicate, if they have no form of communication, they have nothing. "Y'know, everyone seems to know about me. Everything with HYDRA..." His expression is progressively hardening; He's lumping you with everyone else. You see it. Even if Bucky doesn't realize what he's doing, he's trying to build that wall again. Brick himself out and separate himself.

"No," You reply, "I only know what you want to share with me, Bucky. I didn't follow your story as it was happening - though I'd be lying if I said I was entirely clueless. Whatever I knew prior to meeting you today, though, doesn't matter. I want to know you. Not what everyone else's perception of you, is. Consider us strangers."

Then, as if to prove your point, you shift forward even more in your seat. Uncrossing your legs and sitting them flat on the floor as you offer your right hand out.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bucky, I'm Dr. Y/N." Maybe the notion seems silly - and it is, honestly. You've both been talking this long.

Bucky is a little taken aback by the gesture; Blinking at you cluelessly for a moment before he huffs again. This time, his half-hearted grin doesn't look so bitter when he offers his right hand out tentatively. A ginger shake, as though he's scared he's going to break you, and the leather of his glove is warm against your palm.

While he doesn't verbally reciprocate the gesture, his expression speaks for him. A conversation without words.

It's clear that it's a bit more comforting to Bucky. For a brief moment he seemed as though he was ready to leave without coming back, but with quick thinking, you're relieved to have reeled him in once more.

"Anything about you outside of this room means nothing to me," you promise. "It's up to you how much you share. No one else."

Bucky's smile pulls just a tad bit wider, and you consider it a victory.

"We'll start simple," You repeat, pulling your hand from his to pick up the notepad on the table beside you. Flipping to a clean page and clicking your pen - you don't miss the way Bucky looks at you almost worriedly. As if you've picked up a weapon when in reality it's a pen and paper.

"I'd like you to find a nice journal that you like. One that you won't be afraid to write in, and one that you'll feel comfortable using. Next week when we see each other, I'd like you to bring it with you." You effortlessly speak while your pen scrawls away on the small lines sheet in front of you - your handwriting reads out on the paper, 'BRING A NOTEBOOK THAT YOU'RE COMFORTABLE WITH USING :)'

You tear the paper from the metal rings that bind it and pass it over to Bucky. He takes it wordlessly, looking at the piece of paper in his hands.

"That's it...?" Bucky ponders aloud. "That's it." Another gentle smile you wear. "Journaling is an extremely useful tool for going through our feelings and helping us take a step back and breathe. It can help us avoid dramatizing situations unintentionally, and it can help us develop a sense of mindfulness and gratitude. You don't need to write anything in it just yet, but if you'd like to decorate it, I won't stop you. Whatever makes you feel comfortable to begin writing in it."

"...Dr. Raynor didn't have me keep a journal," the soldier murmurs. "I'm not Dr. Raynor." you answer simply.

Your first session with Bucky seems to go well on all accounts. Sure there were a few brief tense moments, but you like to hope he'll return. At the end of the day, that's Bucky's decision. If he chooses to continue with you as his therapist, though, you want to help him in any way he can.

He doesn't know it yet, but you're determined. By the end of your time together, you want to have helped Bucky obtain a new perspective and help him live. Not simply survive.

After he leaves your office, you make sure to fill your schedule in for the same time next week.

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hopelessromantic423 · 1 year

Text

A New Uniform

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky is in need of new mission attire. You help him get all the details of his new suit, and the two of you relish in the new look of Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: fluff. Pet name (sweetheart). Working on the details ppl, it’s a process. Shy Bucky

A/N: Howdy! Flabbergasted by the response on my last post *gasp* Also did not expect almost 100 followers within my first two months on this app. #feelinggrateful

“What’s going on in that handsome head of yours?”

Bucky glanced up at you with a smirk which he was most definitely trying to hide. His hand brushed through his fluffy short brown hair as he sat back in his chair.

“Steve says I need a mission suit. Something less, winter soldier-ish, I guess.”

He was clearly flustered. There were lots of scribbles on his legal pad. Some words and a few sketches, a few pens snapped in half from Bucky’s strong grip were thrown off to the side next to his cup of black coffee.

You sighed and lightly placed your hand on his shoulder, rubbing your thumb soothingly in circles as your head rested on his opposite shoulder. Leaning his head on yours, Bucky muttered a quick, “I don’t know,” before tossing his pen on the notepad.

“What do you want in a suit?”

Bucky took a moment to compose his thoughts. “Something comfortable, maybe a suit that doesn’t restrict,” he motioned to his arm, “ya know that, and oh,” his expression brightened as he said, “pockets! Lots of pockets.”

“Okay fair points,” you lightly chuckled as you sat on his lap looking between him and the notepad. Bucky’s hand came to rest around your waist while his head rested on your arm.

“Let’s start at material,” you said assuringly, taking the pen from the notepad and scribbling the word material in a blank space.

“I usually wear black,” Bucky muttered.

“You said you wanted something less from your past right? What other colors do you like?”

“My ma always said blue looked good on me. She said it matches my eyes,” Bucky’s eyes stared off into nothing as he remembered his mother. Your touch finally broke his train of thought while you ran your hand lightly up and down his arm.

“What about navy hm? It’s a nice transition from the all black. I agree with your mom, but I just really love your eyes.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he murmured completely blushing. “I like navy.” He was in awe of your thinking. It was a silly superhero suit, but it was more than that to him. It was a step in a new direction and for you to want to help him and care about it, that was everything to Bucky.

“Okay and you want comfort, no left sleeve, and pockets,” you mumbled while scribbling down all that you said.

“Lots of pockets,” Bucky added in a playful tone.

“Lots of pockets,” you teased back with a giggle, turning to him with a smile.

———

It was two weeks later and Bucky was anxious up until now when he got his suit from whoever makes all the Avengers suits. It was packaged in a nice box, addressed politely to Sargent James Buchanan Barnes.

You sat excitedly waiting for Bucky to walk out into the living room. The rest of the team was out on missions, so it was just you and Bucky to take in his new look.

Finally, he stepped out, first, you saw his boots which were his usual black boots that he had worn for forever. Then his pants which were new black leather, they were sleek with small red detailing just below his hips.

The real pièce de résistance of it all was the shirt, a nice navy leather covered his chest with one black strap placed across his chest, the same red from the pants making little appearances on the apparel. His waist was perfectly fitted to the leather, slim but oh so sexy.

He looked nervous as he stepped out, clearly worried about your opinion. Taking a few more steps, he stood showing off his new look. Confidence was spread all across his face the second he saw your expression.

“You look so handsome Buck,” you said in awe of your boyfriend.

“Comfortable?” You asked, standing up from your chair.

“Very,” Bucky replied looking down and taking in his look once more. “Look,” he said all excited taking your hand and pulling you towards him.

“Pockets,” he whispered like a kid telling you a secret. He turned a few times to show the pockets laid out around his suit. The two of you laughed and giggled as you took in every little detail of the suit, ooing and aweing at certain features that were minuscule to the average person but important to Avengers.

There were lots of great things about this moment but the best feeling was seeing Bucky not as the winter soldier, but much more than his previous title. He would tell you often of how sometimes when he looks in the mirror, he still sees the winter soldier. He pictures himself with the long greasy hair and the scowl, as if that part of him is coinciding with him always.

“So, do I look like a superhero?”

“Yes, but also,” you came around to look in the mirror with him. Your hands placed at each side of his arms, with the two of you just taking in his look.

“You look like Bucky. Just Bucky.”

Bucky was no one else but himself, and for the first time in a long time, he agreed with you.

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x fluff #reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky oneshot #bucky fanfic

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justkending · 1 year

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Finding Memories. Chapter 22.

Series Summary: Waking up with little to no memory of her past, and being saved by a group of individuals who call themselves heroes, sends a long time captive for a whirlwind trying to find some form of grounding in this world she quickly learns runs on chaos. But she’s not the only one trying to figure out her forgotten backstory. Bucky Barnes, along with the other Avengers, can’t help but sense that there is a lot more to the whole situation than a diagnosis of amnesia. Her background slowly starts to come forward in pieces of her past and hidden information discovered. Who is she? And why was she in the room they were meant to destroy?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced Reader

Word Count: 2800+

TW: Torture, cussing, gore, PTSD, triggers.

A/N: I hope this came out right as I was slightly intoxicated while writing it😂 Hence why this chapter has a few more jokes in it from the normal chapter, but I felt it was fitting since we’ve been so serious the last few chapters. Enjoy and let me know what you think! Your comments help me grow in writing :) xoxoxo

Chapter 22:

“I need to talk to Gabriel.”

All heads turned back toward the entrance of the room they were in and saw Y/N marching in. Her demeanor was a 180 turn from when she had left.

“You’ve said that,” Tony squinted an eye at her. “What happened?” His question was pointed to Wanda who was following in behind Y/N. He could tell something was up and he wanted in on what it was.

She didn’t answer but instead pointed at Y/N who could explain for herself.

“To keep what we still can simple, my memories have been coming back piece by piece,” she sighed, placing both hands on the side of the table she had left from earlier.

“They have?” Bucky had a look of concern on his face but it quickly changed to anger when he saw the guilty look Nat and Wanda shared. “You two knew…”

“Not our secret to be told,” Nat shrugged instantly wiping the guilt off her expression though she did feel it.

“Our job is to keep her protected,” Bucky hissed. The comment came only through his clenched teeth as he tried to stay level-headed, but was struggling.

“She’s in one piece,” Tony waved off. “What do you know, Y/N?” His mission was on one thing and he knew Bucky’s feelings were getting in the way.

Though he did agree they were supposed to work together to keep her protected, he also knew that no real harm would ever come to her. Especially if Wanda and Nat were by her side.

“That’s not the point,” Bucky continued to talk through his clenched jaw.

“Point or not, your damsel in distress seems a little bit in distress right now. How about we focus on that issue first?” Tony snarked back.

Bucky took a step toward Stark, but Y/N grabbed his shoulder pulling him back.

“We don’t have time. The people we are working against are much more of a problem right now.” She looked him deeply in the eyes. “And they have a reputation for being quite relentless when they want something.”

Bucky’s demeanor changed seeing the fear of her past in her eyes. They showed all he needed to know that her next move was more important, and for some reason, he could feel the urgency too. But not like he was feeling it himself, but as if she was passing the feeling onto him through her touch alone.

“How did you do that?” he looked down at her hand, knowing that it was giving off the transfer of energy.

Her eyes showed grief for something she had no time to actually grieve.

“I remembered some things.”

Those things were more than just power related.

And this time she didn’t have to send the emotion for him to feel it himself.

“If I know how to read a room, and I do,” Tony started.

“You don’t,” Wanda mumbled and Nat agreed with a head nod.

“You seem to be on a time crunch, yet we still haven’t gotten to the point of all this,” Tony looked at them both with wide eyes and hands out in waiting.

Y/N pulled her hand back to herself and turned to the group.

“Gabriel is brainwashed. He is not like that. Whatever they did to him, it wasn’t by choice. If I can break him out of that chemical fog he’s under, I can maybe get some information off of him. It could tell us what the real purpose of his being here is. If they infiltrated some of the world's most elite superheroes and good guys that can take down countries without hesitation, why do they so badly want to take me, an amnesia-ridden nobody, back?”

“We’ve already come to terms that they want your powers. Gabriel would probably say the same thing,” Tony said.

“Do you want to know their plan, or do you want to just settle for, ‘we came to terms with’. Cause last I checked, they’re sending bigger guns in each time.” Her sass was clear, but she kept a challenging face with it, making it more intimidating than sarcastic.

Bucky was arguing in his head that he wouldn’t label her as an amnesia-ridden nobody, especially after that comment.

He was happy to see the side of her that he was scared of pointed toward someone else. And when it’s Tony Stark, that’s just a bonus.

Everyone turned to Tony and instead of a sneer back, his lips turned into a giant grin.

“I like this version of you much more,” he crossed his arms before pointing a finger at her. “I can get behind working with her,” he threw a thumb at her when he looked at Nat, who of course rolled her eyes.

“Do you think Gabriel would know that kind of information?” Wanda asked. “Who’s to say if he was given any knowledge of their plans? The girls who came for you first were told nothing of who you were besides a target. They didn’t even know your background much.”

“Gabriel will. He knows the ins and outs of that place more than me.” She hesitated before saying the next part. “He was there before I was…”

The room was silent and they could tell she was saddened by the thought of him going through something that long.

“If you need to talk to him, we should go now,” Tony broke the silence and moved to grab a few things before heading to the door.

“Yeah, great reading the room,” Nat mumbled and Wanda elbowed her as she walked by. “Ow.”

_____________________________________

Down in the basement where the inmate was being held, they were unlocking the door and going through protocol before opening it when Wanda walked to her side.

“You sure about this? I know it was a lot going in before…”

“It’s different now.”

“It’s been less than 5 hours.”

“Yeah, well, 5 hours ago I didn’t have the memories I have now,” she shrugged taking a breath and straightening her posture some.

“Another reason I’m worried about this,” Wanda raised an eyebrow watching her. “This is a lot in a little amount of time to process all this. Take it from someone who’s worked under emotional distress; it’s best to walk away from it and come back when you’re ready.”

“We don’t have time, Wanda,” she sighed, dropping her shoulders in defeat and turning to her. “I would love all the time in the world to actually sit down and process my life from what I knew to what’s become home in the last 2 weeks, but we don’t have that time. We weren’t fortunate enough to have it.” A sad smile graced her lips as she showed she was coming to accept what her fate was. “And I could stop, but my brain would never shut up if I didn’t do something knowing more innocent people would get hurt. And because of that, I can’t. I can’t stop.”

Wanda understood completely and though she didn’t even need the speech in order to be convinced, she was happy to hear it.

“You’re a stubborn ass, but a good-hearted one, that’s for sure,” she smiled. “Need my help?”

Y/N smiled back at her. She still was getting used to people actually caring for her and each time she was reminded that it was a norm around here, she became a little lighter inside.

“I think I actually got this one,” she said as she looked down at her hands. “But for emotional support, I could really use that,” she looked back at her with a shy grin.

“That I can do,” Wanda nodded, stepping to her spot by Y/N and nodding when looking to Tony who was waiting for the all-clear.

“Opening,” Tony shouted and the door hissed open. “Make it quick, Obi-Wan.”

“That’s never leaving, is it?” Y/N turned to Wanda with a grimace.

“I did one thing and now I’m The Witch, so,” she shrugged and brushed it off then motioned for Y/N to lead.

She took another breath and walked in the same way she did before, hesitantly and then quickly putting on a brave face.

“She’s back,” he hummed.

“Gabriel, we need to talk.”

“Someone found their voice,” he chuckled, but his voice was rasped as he refused to drink any water they gave him.

“Sounds like you’re losing yours,” she retorted, not just meaning physically.

He looked up at her slowly.

“Someone really found their voice,” he chortled as if he was offended by her having something he wanted.

She was in front of him seconds after walking in. Her eyes never left him, and her posture showed she wasn’t going to be easy to break down this time. She didn’t know how she knew how to do this type of intimidation tactic, but it felt natural like a lot of other things that were coming back to her.

“Can we get over the tough guy act and give this a try the less painful way?” she asked.

Nat, Bucky, and Tony were all staring at each other on the other side of the glass trying to see if any of the others had a clue as to what she was hinting to.

From the sounds of their agreement, they were going to talk to Gabriel about this. They didn’t expect her to even consider a torture talk.

“Did she just say-”

“May want to be on stand-by Romanoff,” Tony interrupted.

“She wouldn’t,” Nat brushed off easily, attempting to throw the men off her nerves.

“Do we know that for certain?” Tony turned to the redhead more.

“She wouldn’t hurt anyone who didn’t start the fight first,” Nat waved them off again, putting her hands in her back pockets.

“You do that when you get nervous,” Bucky pointed at her hands.

Tony gasped. “Oh my God, you totally do,” he said pointing with him, his tone mocking a high school girl’s.

Whether or not he was totally serious no one would know, but either way, Nat and Bucky looked at him with judging eyes, before moving on as if desensitized to his antics.

“You think she’ll do it?” Bucky asked Nat.

“I don’t think she will,” Nat repeated for extra measures.

After the boys finally somewhat believed her enough to stop studying her further, she coughed under her breath.

“Oh, my God!” Bucky let out an angry chuckle and threw his hands up. “How are you one of the best spies in the world and you can’t lie to save your own ass!”

“What?! I’m not lying!” Nat let out a ‘psh’ sound.

Bucky just stared at her with a bitch-face. “Seriously, you couldn’t get any worse.”

“Jesus, then go in there yourself if you’re so worried,” Nat waved her hand in that direction, arms now crossed. “If you want an excuse to save your not-so-damsel in distress, you got it.”

“No,” he backed down real fast. “I mean I trust she won’t do anything. She’s level-headed enough,” he said more so trying to convince himself he knew her enough that that would be accurate.

“Wanda’s on standby anyway, we already talked,” Tony said still watching the interaction between Y/N and Gabriel while they talked.

“What?” Nat and Bucky both asked turning to where he was leaning on the wall by the glass.

“We both agreed she may not have been fully mentally stable to be making this call, so we promised we both clear the worries by just keeping a closer eye on her,” Tony said.

“I mean,” Bucky paused, “That was smart, but why didn’t you let us in on that?”

“You two were going to protect her either way, why did you need the warranty?” he shrugged like it wasn’t that big a deal. “Now shut up we’re missing the showdown. It’s crazy how good she is for someone who didn’t know her name 2 weeks ago.”

Wanda could hear everything being said on the other side of the armored wall and now it was her turn to roll her eyes. Sometimes certain members of this group shouldn’t be left alone in a room together.

“Gabriel, I need you to try and remember something for me,” she tried to give him some form of sympathy, but he was making it really hard with the random curses and stabs at her trauma he threw.

“Oooh! You don’t think I have my memory? Like you?” he cackled. “That’s so sad,” he continued to laugh like a manic, still strapped in a straight jacket. “

Y/N’s face went from empathetic to a scary aggravated face.

“Pet,” he spit the name out with the venom it held. “I remember it all… And yet I still choose to do this.”

His eye contact showed a promise and it was one no one would like.

“Maybe the torture tactic isn’t such a bad idea,” Bucky stood staring sharply at the restrained man sitting comfortably. Only a glass wall was between him and that chair.

“I’ll take a turn myself,” Nat said in a similar stance.

“You two are going to get a lawsuit on my hands. Let her do her thing and we’ll see if we need to step in,” Tony waved them away.

Inside Wanda could see the expression of hurt on her face, turn quickly to obstinacy.

“You’re such a liar,” she laughed, before walking around him to where she was behind his back and he couldn’t move to see her.

A move that freaked him out and she could tell it made him uneasy. Uneasy and challenged men love to try and show how tough they are by usually… Proving a point.

“Why would I lie about that?” he asked, angered by her put down.

“Because why would they send a low-level agent into the field with any knowledge that was important to them? Do you know how easily a place like this could squeeze you completely dry of all your secrets? Seconds, Gabriel. Seconds,” she said in a disappointed grimace. “It’s rule number one in class.”

His face was in a frustrated frown and his cheeks seemed to be burning

“Class? What class teaches that?” Nat asked, and Bucky answered.

“I’m worried what I’m thinking isn’t far from the truth.”

“I’m a higher-up agent now. Higher than we knew existed,” he hissed. “There are things I get access to that others don’t.”

“Cool. I still don’t think you’re telling the truth, but cool,” she shrugged, standing in front of him in a relaxed position knowing she had the upper hand. And that infuriated him.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” he said moving in his seat to readjust.

“He’s uncomfortable,” Bucky noticed the movements.

“This isn’t her first rodeo,” Tony said casually, and Bucky and Nat shared a worried look.

“Great. Then we can do this the other way,” she said moving toward him with her hands out.

“Wait!” he stopped her, looking at her hands in fear.

She stopped in her step and gave him a patient look.

“They told me the location of one of their bases,” he said quickly. “I could tell you, but there has to be something in it for me.”

“Nice offer, but I’m going to just get that information either way if we do it my way,” Y/N shrugged and continued on. “I’m sorry by the way 'cause this isn’t going to feel good.”

“Y/N,” Wanda watched closely and took a step. “What are you doing?”

“Just a little mind trick to get him back to normal,” she answered positioning her hands to touch his temples. “It wouldn’t feel great, but it’ll bring him back.”

“You haven’t practiced this before.”

Gabriel was trying to scoot back on the chair, bobbing to get away from her, but making little to no difference in his position and restraints. “Please! Please!”

“I’ve done it too many times to count,” she thought to herself, but Wanda could hear and immediately knew what she meant.

As Stark said, “This wasn’t her first rodeo.”

The next second her thumbs were placed on the center of his forehead and her index fingers touched his temples, and he stopped squirming and sat completely still.

It was like she put him to sleep, but his body was on autopilot. After a few seconds with Y/N looking down, she was wincing at things she could see while she closed her eyes.

“Y/N?” she asked, stepping up more and looking at her carefully.

“Wanda, what’s happening?” they asked in the comms.

“She’s going into his memories, but it’s,” she paused coming about 4 feet away from the interaction not sure what to do, but she tried to look in Gabriel's head and it was… “She’s taken him to some place in space. Mentally at least,” she said. “I don’t know what’s happening though.”

“The hell is going on in there?” Tony questioned before he started marching to the doors.

Bucky and Nat are following out of concern for Y/N.

Once they walked in, Gabriel’s eyes were open and he was looking around lost.

“What the hell happened? Where am I?” he asked frantically, and the look in his eyes was not the same sadistic ones from earlier.

These were scared, yet awakened, eyes.

Feel free to follow me on Wattpad too and vote on any of your favorite chapters:) It helps promote my story & also makes my brain release tons of endorphins everytime I get a notification about one of ya’ll❤️

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes series #finding memories #marvel x reader series #reader insert #bucky barnes x reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x enhanced reader #y/n insert #reader x bucky barnes #marvel #mcu series #enhanced reader #justkending

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topwxntersoldxer · 1 year

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Dance With Me - Bucky Barnes

Summary: Being Tony's best friend and going to one of his famous parties and meeting Bucky Barnes.

Requested: No

Warnings: none :)

A/N: This is a repost. I had this previously posted on my other Tumblr account.

"Come on y/n considering I hardly ever see you anymore it’s a good chance for us to catch up and for you to meet some of the people living here in the compound." You and Tony walked through the compound it seemed unusually quiet. You been to the compound before but usually you hear or seen a lot of people around. " You mean you want me to come but abandon me for every chick you find good looking while I look lost because I don’t know anyone else there." You looked up at Tony he was your best friend for most of your life and he was like a brother but sometimes you knew him better than he knew himself. " Please y/n" Tony gave you a pouty look knowing you would give in and he knew once you rolled your eyes that means you would give in. Tony proceeded to tell you the details the only problem is that you didn't have a good dress so you'd have to go shopping. On your way out you pulled out your phone as you were walking to the door accidentally bumped into someone "I'm so sorry" You looked up and it wasn't anyone that you recognized in the compound before. "My apologies doll" He gave you a wink and a smile and continued down the hall. You couldn't shake off that feeling but something felt off to you.

Thinking of what Tony said about you not seeing each other anymore you felt guilty. The two of you hung out all the time until you began working as a traveling writer and photographer which was the reason you didn't see each other often. You stopped at the diner that the two of you used to go to all the time and picked up your phone and dialed his number. "hey so I did some thinking and I was thinking maybe we could spend the day together. I know we haven't hung out as much as we used to and I feel guilty. So I was hoping you wouldn't mind" you can just feel Tony smile through the phone. " are you officially asking me to spend the day with you just like old times" You began to laugh " yes I am and you know where to meet me" you hung up the phone ordered and sat down waiting for Tony. Once Tony met you the two of you talked about the stuff you missed and Tony proceeded to take you to a dress store once you told him you didn’t have any clothes for tonight. The two of you spent the day walking around, catching up and Tony took you shopping to different stores. You finally found a cute Short Velvet Emerald Green dress with some matching silver shoes and earrings for tonight.

Once the two of you got to the compound the two of you went to go get ready for tonight. You made sure you showered, shaved, prepped your skin, did your makeup, began doing your hair before heading downstairs to the party to find Tony, who you couldn't find anywhere. It was such a beautiful night outside and considering there was so many windows around the building you moved towards them and just gazed out the windows. "if you love a beautiful sky like tonight you would love Wakanda at night such a beautiful sight". You quickly turned to your side where you heard a voice mostly startled because you didn't know that anyone was next to you. It was him the guy you bumped into in the compound earlier. As you stuttered trying to form a sentence he laughed "Names Bucky doll I didn't get your name after you bumped into me earlier". You brushed your hair back behind your ear and felt your cheeks blush a bit before answering "sorry about that but I'm y/n, Tony's friend." He gave you a smile similar to the one he gave you earlier. "well y/n it’s a pleasure to meet you. Let me show you something" He extended his arm out to you and of course you took it and he lead the both of you went upstairs to the roof.

It was beautiful you never been up on the roof before but the sky looked beautiful and it was a beautiful sight over the shining lights of the city. "it's so beautiful up here" you turned around and he was walking towards you and stood next to you "I come up here a lot its peaceful no one comes up here. You can see the bright lights all around the city at night and all the stars in the sky, its beautiful. Some nights when I can't sleep I just sit up here where its peaceful and just admire it" You turned to look at Bucky with the light shining on the roof it was easy to see the scruff of his beard, his long hair pulled back. "What's your story" You watched as Bucky turned to look at you and now you were able to look at all the beautiful detail in his face. "I mean you don’t have to if you don't want to I'm just curious" Bucky looked down as he chuckled and smiled at you.

Bucky then began to tell you his story beginning from joining the military and being Tony's friend you already knew about Hydra and a lot of the other crazy things that happen in his life. So Bucky also told you about Hydra, being in Wakanda everything until this moment. All you did in the moment is listen to Bucky in that time and just listening to him you knew it was hard for him to talk about. "I'm really sorry all of that happened to you" You gave Bucky a weak smile before leaning your head on Bucky's shoulder before getting a quick shiver. The one thing you hated about nights like tonight is that it was cool at night and gets cold quick.

Bucky looked down on you before he took off his jacket and wrapped it around you. " You didn't have to do that" your voice came out lower than you expected it to. "You need it more than me doll" You slid yourself into his jacket and looked up at Bucky. "Thank You and Thank you for the night I had a good time" Bucky gave a small chuckle. "I hope you don’t think the night is over with y/n." Bucky then extended his hand out towards you "May I have this dance" You gave Bucky a smile "I shouldn't be surprised you dance" you let out a chuckle before grabbing his hand. One thing about being Tony's Friend is you learned how to dance. Bucky slid one arm around your waist and met your hand. You followed his lead and every step. You never danced with anyone as graceful as he was. Every dip, spin and step was more graceful than the last. Something about the way the two of you danced just felt safe and peaceful.

This is a moment that could last forever. You leaned your head on his shoulder and just danced with him. He gave you one last spin and pulled you close to him whispering in your ear "who knew I'd be spending my night with someone as Beautiful and Darling as you" he stepped back to look at you. He brushed a couple strands of your hair behind your ear before leaning forward towards you and resting his forehead on yours. "who knew" your voice came out lower than you expected. You lifted your head that was still resting on his to look at him.

You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looks before stroking his face with your hand tracing your fingers around his jaw. Hooking one finger under his jaw and lifting his face to yours pulling it towards yours and brushing your lips against his before leaning in and kissing his lips. You didn’t know how to describe it but kissing him was unlike anything you felt before. You wrapped your arms around his neck and wrapped your fingers in his hair deepening the kiss. He was the first one to pull away but kept his forehead on yours. The two of you were still trying to catch your breath from the intense moment that was just shared.

It was awhile before either of you said anything just enjoying the moment while it lasted. “You know I wanted to do that ever since I saw you” Bucky said brushing your hair out your face. "From the moment you first bumped into me doll and became speechless over my extremely good looks.." before Bucky could finish you slapped his arm causing him to start laughing. "first I was not speechless and two even if I was it was not over you" You began chuckling. "its okay to admit it doll but I can really make you speechless." You giggled and Bucky flashed you a smile before shaking his head. "I meant by taking you on a date y/n but I can do that if you want me to" he winked at you. "I'd love you to take me out Barnes" you kissed his cheek. You turned around to walk away "wait where are you going" You turned around with a smile on your face. "I'll be waiting on you to take me out goodnight Barnes" and with that you walked off. It wouldn’t be the last time you see Bucky Barnes but just the beginning of something amazing.

#marvel imagines #Bucky Barnes #Bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #reader x bucky barnes

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wheredafandomat · 2 years

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Nemesis

Bucky x female avenger reader

Bucky Refuses to fight you but that doesn’t mean he won’t

18+ | contains smut and a little violence - nothing too explicit

Sitting in the common room, your feet were on Lokis lap as he painted your toenails whilst you both spoke. As most days now, today was boring and you had very little to do. There was no more adventure anymore, no danger, no fun. You felt slightly guilty, it should have been a good thing that earth was so boring safe now but it just made life uneventful.

“There’s just never anything to do.” You sighed.

“Careful.” Loki answered, seeing all his hard work about to be destroyed as you moved your feet.

“I blame king Valkyrie, she takes care of everything. Whenever there is a threat, she’s the first at the scene.” You whined.

“She’s rather brisk.” Loki agreed.

“Yeah, so brisk, so cool, so sexy, so—” you began before Bucky walked in, interrupting your conversation.

“What are you guys talking about?” He asked, sauntering into the room.

“How there’s no danger anymore, life’s boring.” You sighed.

“That’s a good thing right?” Bucky answered, a confused expression pulling his features.

“I miss the excitement.” You explained.

“And she insists I’m not an adequate contender for her to spar with.” Loki added.

“You’re not, I need someone rougher, more callous.” You spoke.

“Well, good luck with that” Bucky said, turning to leave again before he spotted something flying towards him. Using his metal hand, he was quick to catch the object, crushing it in his hand and throwing it onto the ground before continuing his departure.

“You just killed redwing!” Sam shouted from another room.

“Count yourself lucky it wasn’t you.” Bucky shouted back as you turned to Loki with an excited expression.

“You’ve got an idea.” He grinned.

“Yes, yes I do.” You winked before quickly standing to your feet and chasing after Bucky who was now in the hallway. His back was towards you as you pushed him, making him stumble before he turned around.

“What are you doing?” He questioned, brows knitted.

“Fight me.” You answered, pushing him again.

“Ouch.” He winced, your finger digging into his chest.

“Come on, hit me.”

“No.”

“Hit me!”

“I’m not going to hit you.” He insisted, turning to walk the opposite direction to you. Running in front of him, you managed to use your strength to push him against the wall as you looked into his eyes.

“I bet he’d fight me.” You spoke dangerously low causing Bucky eyes to widen in recognition. “He’d be a very worthy opponent.”

“You wouldn’t stand a chance.” Bucky scoffed, feigning nonchalance.

“Only one way to find out.” You dared.

“Y/n, no.” He stated, expression serious, voice stern.

“You’re no fun old man.” You huffed, letting him go as you walked back towards the common room where Loki was waiting. “The boring old man said no.” You told him causing Bucky to roll his eyes.

That night it rained, heavily. You had fallen asleep pretty quickly after your nighttime gym session and usually you slept through the whole night but tonight felt different. The raindrops hit the windowsill like bullets as they fell from the sky. The thunder roared over the city dimming the usual sound of cars and night busses. The lightning cast a cold silver glow around your room each time it struck leaving you tossing and turning. The most unsettling thing about tonight was the eerie feeling that left you feeling agitated. You felt as if someone or something was watching you. At one point you even opened your eyes but found nothing in the dark room so in your half awake state, you fell back asleep but the feeling of something there, lurking in the darkness never left you.

The following morning you awoke to sunlight streaming in as the raindrops dried and the clouds cleared away. Nothing was more beautiful than the sunshine that followed a rainy night. As you sat up from your bed, you stretched, looking around your room before your eyes settled on a note on your dressing table. Your brows furrowed, you didn’t remember putting that there. Picking up the small piece of lined paper that looked as if it had been ripped from a notebook, you read the handwritten word on it, not recognising the handwriting.

N e m e s i s

You weren’t sure what it meant or who had left it but considering your bedroom door was still shut and your windows were closed, you thought nothing of it, perhaps it was just something you had forgotten about. The tower was a safe place and besides, even if there was a threat, you were looking for a fight.

Like most days, the day passed uneventful and slow. Besides almost blowing up the sanctum with Stephen, there was nothing notable about the day. Considering you weren’t tired, you opted for spending a hour in the gym before bedtime in the hopes that it’d tire you out. If not, you were almost certain you’d have to pay a trip to New Asgard; if the gym wouldn’t tire you out, you were near certain that King Valkyrie would. Putting your earphones in, you began with the exercise bike. Like the night before, you began feeling as if something was watching you, lurking in the shadows. You turned your head, no one had entered and there was no one standing there so you put it down to paranoia and changed the song, focusing back on the bike. Despite you trying to ignore it, you felt something there, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you turned around, gasping when you were met by Bucky.

“Oh Bucky you gave me a fright.” You laughed, beginning to calm down as he stepped towards you. Strangely, his face was void of emotion as he stalked closer towards you. “Are you sleepwalking?” You joked, waving your hand in front of his face before he grabbed your wrist, moving your hand away before his hand gripped your throat. “K-kinky.” You choked out, clawing at his hand before you fought him off. Bucky looked down at his hand, harsh red lines decorating it as you turned to run out of the room before he grabbed you back, causing you to let out a squeak as your back hit the mat underneath you. Bucky was relentless, holding you against the mat before you managed to wrap your legs around his neck, bringing him to the floor before you straddled him, your hand being the one around his throat now, recognition consuming you. “It was you in my room last night wasn’t it?” You asked, Buckys lips curling up into a smirk. “Hello soldier.” You answered with a smirk of your own. It seems Bucky wasn’t the old boring man you thought.

Leaving you little time to bask in your excitement, the soldier was quick to pull you off of him with his metal arm before you both began landing blow after blow against each other. At one point, he had managed to pin you against the wall before you head butted him, easily blocking his attack before landing a punch in his abdomen.

“I’m impressed.” He finally spoke, out of breath slightly as he moved his hair from his face, stuck to it by a thin layer of sweat. Looking at him, you could see his lip was bleeding matching your own. Yanking his hair, you pulled his head back as you smiled.

“Told you I could take you.”

Reciprocating your movement, his hand found your hair.

“Maybe I’m just letting you win.” He murmured before pushing you against the floor but you were too quick. Anticipating his move, you already managed to dodge his attack slightly, pulling him to the ground before you mounted him, thighs either side of his waist. You looked down at him, heart racing as he looked up at you with an unreadable expression. You moved your hips slightly, your hand pinning one of his to the ground causing him to let out a little noise.

“What was that?” You questioned, repeating the movement of your hips causing the soldier to have the same reaction. “Oh you like that?” You grinned, repeating the action before his metal hand gripped your waist, holding you tightly against him. You could fell him hardening beneath you as he helped guide your movements, small grunts beginning to fall from his lips.

“Just like that.” He uttered as you rolled your hips against his. Picking up his free hand, the one that you held down, you brought it up to one of your breasts before the soldier squeezed it. Seeing your reaction, his hand wondered underneath your sports bra, squeezing again before his fingers wrapped around your nipple. At this point, his hips were bucking up into yours, his clothed erection prodding your thinly covered core.

Everything moved quickly. Before you knew it, you were ripping one another’s clothes off as your lips latched to his. His trousers were discarded as well as your own leggings and panties before you straddled him again. Your already wet pussy glided against his cock as it laid flat against his stomach. His head fell back against the floor, eyes closing as he felt you against him.

“You wanna fuck me?” You cooed, looking down at him as his eyes opened to meet yours. He nodded in response. “No, I want to hear you say it, say you wanna fuck me.”

“W-want to fuck you.” He answered in a strangled gasp as you sped your movements. “Need to.”

Lifting your hips, you gripped his length before guiding it towards your entrance. You lowered yourself again, both of you moaning as he entered you, filling you completely. You began bouncing above him, the soldier reaching up to flick your nipples again wanting the same reaction from you as before. He could hear your heart beating faster but now he could also feel your walls clenching around him. He lifted his own hips, meeting your movements as you moaned lewdly. You hadn’t ever really put much thought into how it’d feel like having sex with Bucky but the animalistic growls that left the man beneath you reminded you that this wasn’t Bucky, this was the soldier. No doubt Bucky would want to take you out first, wine and dine you before stripping you for a round of slow, vanilla missionary but only if you wanted to whilst the soldier knew what he wanted and he was taking it, no shame as he guided your movements.

Taking you by surprise, he flipped your positions leaving you against the floor as he fucked into you from above. Lifting your leg, he threw it against his shoulder, reaching a new depth as he thrusted into you. You saw stars, this new angle taking you over the edge as you came, walls spasming around his length but the soldier wasn’t done, his thirst wasn’t quenched yet. He continued entering you, harder now as his fingers dug into your waist, sure to leave bruises. Your eyes rolled back, another orgasm threatening to overcome you as your moans grew louder, more anguished. The soldier was ruthless, hips slamming into yours as he tried to get his words out.

“S-say it.” He groaned.

“What?”

“Say it.”

Recognition shrouded you as you remembered the word on the paper, that must be it you thought before you screamed it.

“Nemesis!” You exclaimed, a familiar expression covering the man above you’s face as he came, his cum spilling into you prompting your own orgasm.

“Fuck y/n.” He spoke, ribbons of his seed shooting into you as his thrusts grew tired, weak.

“Bucky?”

“You are somethin else” he panted, his sweaty forehead against your own as he came down from his high. “I underestimated you.”

“Damn right you did.” You answered, catching your breath back as he pulled out of you, lowering your leg back down. You continued laying against the floor as Bucky found his trousers before putting them back on. He handed you your own as you sat up.

“We should definitely go on a date.” He spoke, walking towards the door before turning back around. “Until next time princess.” He winked before exiting.

“Knew it.” You smiled to yourself, putting your things back on. You’d definitely be going on a date with him if it meant a repeat of that.

#bucky x female reader smut #bucky x you #bucky x avenger!reader #avenger reader #bucky x you smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky fanfic #reader x bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #loki x reader

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captainsimagines · 2 years

Text

dreaming in june || eleven

Summary: At the request of an old friend who now happens to be the new Captain America, you move to a place that only vaguely feels peaceful, to secretly protect his best friend. There you meet Bucky Barnes, your next door neighbor, who has also lived countless lives, seen a lot of things, and lost the one he loved. You have more in common than you thought.

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x (F) POC Enhanced Reader

Based on the Song(s): Heat Waves by Glass Animals ; Coney Island by Taylor Swift and The National

Series / AO3 Link / Playlist

(11/15)

Warnings: blood and gore; blood offerings; demons; cults/religious cults; scary vibes; alcoholism and alcohol abuse; emotional angst; canon-typical violence; enchanted creatures; mention of infertility (if you blink); character ‘death’; descriptions of physical deformities; strong language; blood play (slight); mentions of suicide; fantasy vibes

Word Count: 7,600+

Author’s Note: Lots of shit goes down. Tread lightly lmao. xxMoni

“You don’t get to leave me. Not you. This time I’m begging.”

Bucky’s pacing.

He’s giving himself a headache with how much he’s moving, but he is physically incapable of sitting down. Nothing has calmed him long enough to think rationally.

Sam, bless him, seems to be the only level-headed one.

Until Druig barged through the front door and demanded to know how the fuck three supers allowed for the kidnapping of his Princess.

“How fucking convenient of you!” Sam growls, pushing at Druig’s hard chest. The Eternal simply looks down at where Sam’s palms had connected. He doesn’t say anything. “The second time she needs you, relied on your intel, you weren’t fucking here!”

A muscle tics in Druig’s jaw.

“We tried to stop that demon,” Sam explains, his face a permanent scowl. “But she cut the webs and basically sacrificed herself.”

“A demon.” The way Druig repeats the word doesn’t reveal anything. He says it casually, as if testing the taste. “Explain the encounter. All of it. In vivid detail.”

“It wasn’t an encounter. It was an attack,” Peter spits.

But Bucky ignores the beef simmering, and spills it all. Every detail. Until his mouth has gone dry and his hands shake.

“And you say the demon referenced Greek mythology?”

“I am this close—” Sam says, pinching his fingers together for emphasis. “This close to fucking decking you.”

Druig casually intertwines his hands behind his back. “Why would you want to do that?”

Sam steps dangerously close. “You heard Buck correctly. From the beginning, you have been ominous and brief. So I’m asking you politely—one more time—to tell us everything you know about this cult, about the blood, and about demons.”

Druig scans Sam from his eyes to his feet. Chin held high, Druig makes a decision.

“Just recently, Makkari informed me about this cult. A cult that began in the 1500s by none other than Rodrigo Graciano, Spanish conquistador who murdered hundreds either with his weapons, disease, or his bare hands. The blood my Princess infused into him made him Immortal—true Immortal. A true Immortal cannot die unless their mind and body are separated entirely or reduced to ash. There is no way to survive decapitation, nor burning into miniscule particles. In popular Salem, he was accused of witchcraft by a fellow follower who did not want to be Made. He burned at the stake. His followers, obviously, did not let the traitor live.”

A history lesson, Bucky thinks. Great.

Druig continues. “There is a flaw. A glitch, if you would like to call it that. The Princess is a true Immortal. Anyone bred from her blood is true. Immortals created by second generation sources, third generation, fourth…” Druig grimaces, looking to the wall instead of their faces. “They do not possess the same healing abilities, the same aging, or the same mutation.”

Simple genetics then. The more a trait, a gene, a specific mutation is passed through a bloodline, the less and less potent it is if it is no longer dominant. You must carry the dominant, and since you have not created literal offspring of your own, you have not passed down the dominant gene through your blood. A natural birth, however—the dominant gene would pass.

Graciano had gotten the recessive.

“The Princess is an Immortal who was born. The cult fanatics are Immortals who were Made. The Princess naturally stopped aging. Her body chose a point, and stuck with it. The followers change whenever they want, whoever they want, like vampires.”

“So with her blood, they can create true Immortals? Without it, they’re…what? Low grade?”

Druig smirks. “Yes, Samuel.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Sam snaps.

Bucky pushes in between the two males who are sizing each other up. He pushes Druig slightly harder, however. “How are we getting her back? How are we stopping these fanatics from hurting her? How do we deal with a fucking demon?”

Druig rubs at his jaw. “You mentioned it called her Persephone? It must be a demon of the Greeks, then. Christian mythology doesn’t have such dramatic demons. Egyptians do, but not like this.”

Peter snorts, “Lucifer literally went against God because he thought he was too pretty.”

“Lucifer was kicked out of Heaven because he grew an individual consciousness.”

Bucky ignores the quips, shaking his head. He continues, “So, if we’re dealing with a demon from Greek mythology, are we dealing with Hades? Does he want her for himself?”

“Hades isn’t evil like that.”

Sam holds up a hand. “Back up. Explain.”

Druig rolls his eyes. “Hades is the ruler of the Underworld. He oversees, like a CEO. He doesn’t do the killing, or the raping, or the torture. Trust me, I’ve been there multiple times when he asked for a change in scenery.”

“Is this what we’re doing? Defending demons?”

“Hades isn’t a demon. He’s a God.”

Sam gives him a blank look, hand on his hip and foot slightly tapping.

Peter interjects, his voice timid but still marked with a playful undertone. “Should we call Thor?”

“He’s Norse.”

Sam whirls on Druig once again. “What fucking difference—”

“I do not know if his skills will function well with a demon from another realm.”

Bucky blankly stares, completely unimpressed. “I hit things. This one shoots webs. This one is a human. I have no idea what you do. We need a literal God.”

It’s true. What the actual fuck were they going to do when faced with that demon again? You, with the most powerful powers of the three of them, seemed helpless. Or maybe you were in shock.

If they are able to come up with a game plan, learn a little bit more about how to take down a demon, then maybe they stand a fighting chance.

If Bucky has to take a fucking ring up a mountain, then so fucking be it.

“Perhaps this is what the cult is expecting,” Druig says. “The demon itself might have studied Norse mythology before preparing to attack. It could be expecting this."

“That motherfucker didn’t look like it reads,” Sam drily says. He shivers from the memory of bloodless lips and void eyes.

Peter cringes. “We’re going in blind, then?”

“You all must be prepared for bloodshed.”

“Great, my favorite.”

Bucky’s got to give it to Peter. The kid is handling this better than he expected.

“I’m serious. The Princess opposed violence many times until it was absolutely necessary. I deem this necessary.”

“These are fanatics,” Sam says, waving a hand as if the fight would be no big deal.

“These are made Immortals who summoned a demon. A dangerous and illegal offense.”

“Illegal?” Bucky asks.

“It’s certainly not a practice that anyone should partake in.”

“Okay, wait. Hold up, hold up!” Peter blows out a breath. “I need a minute.”

“I understand this is a lot to take in—”

“You’ve literally just told us that demons exist. That Gods exist, not just Thor. That our friend is a true Immortal who might very well be what we humans like to call Mother Nature! And I’m starting to piece together that the reason she didn’t forget me is because she is not fully human and her consciousness extends to deeper levels. Does Thor remember me? Did we even ask?”

No. They didn’t.

Sam grumbles, “We’re summoning the God.”

“Better than a demon, I guess.” Druig shrugs.

“Anyone got his number? I—” Peter asks, shrugging like fuck-all.

“I can get in touch with him,” Bucky quietly mumbles. There’s shame etched into that statement—the only times he’s ever gotten in touch with the God was for liquid relief. A meager volume of that hungover desire swims in his stomach, in his mind, on his tongue. He’s breaking—the elastic at its final tug—and if he doesn’t find you by the end of the day, he’s going to drown himself.

“Great! While you do that—” Druig pushes the two folders he’s been holding this whole time into Sam’s chest. “File these for me. Call that lovely assistant of yours.”

Sam glowers at him. He opens the folders and scans. “What are these?”

“You think I haven’t been doing anything?” Druig insists, his face neutral. His words, however, come out wry. “The Princess wasn’t the only one who lost someone that day. We all lost our Prince.”

It’s all signed. Stamped. Official.

“You did all the groundwork. Thanks for flinging the Captain America title around. Really.”

Ari’s remains are to be returned to his only surviving descendants.

His wife.

You wake with a lump in your throat and clouds swimming behind your closed eyelids. You groan in discomfort, scrunching your face and wiggling your fingers. The air is cold and the surface you’re on pricks your thighs.

Oh, Hell. You’re in a t-shirt and panties.

Bucky’s t-shirt.

You go to snap your body upward, but the weight of your head is exhausting. Instead, you roll to your side.

One of your legs goes over, dangling from the cliffside. Your stomach swoops—your body goes into fight or flight mode.

You're at the literal cliffside. That fucking demon left you to tip over and take a massive plunge, all for his enjoyment.

You roll the opposite way, now more alert. The sun is out, but just barely. The clouds cover most of it. You can’t tell if it’s morning, afternoon, or mid-day.

Perhaps the several distorted faces staring back at you will have that answer.

You struggle to stand but push through the pain to do so. Lying down is too vulnerable—you can swing your magic better standing.

“Where am I?”

It takes a moment for you to realize that their faces aren’t their own at all. Their masks—masks of all colors and all expressions, extending from the top of the person’s forehead to their chin. You’d compare them to those drama mask expressions—the joyful and the anguished—but that would just ruin theatre as a whole for you.

“Mother Earth.”

You shake your head. “Not my name.”

“No,” the one up front confirms. A male. “Your name is not yours at all anymore, is it?”

He’s the tallest of the group, and with the creepiest mask. Gold, metal horns stick out from the forehead of the mask, completely contradicting the sickly green color of the rest of it. You can’t see his eyes or if his mouth is moving—you simply see the frozen anguished expression.

The trees rumble. Do not try to run! the small voice shouts. They have arrows pointed at you.

You roll your eyes. An arrow wouldn’t kill you. Still, you listen.

“So, this is it? You’re here to drain my blood or what?”

Several of them cock their heads to the left at the same time. A shudder travels up your spine.

There looks to be about thirty people staring back at you. Not one sign of the original demon.

“We must first prove you are the Mother.”

You frown. “Ew. Can’t I just say yes or no and get this over with?”

They don’t laugh. They don’t move. They don’t even seem to acknowledge your voice. Except for the one leering at you. Frozen and calm.

“The universe chose you to be one with the earth. And since me, humans, and all other living beings come from the earth, we come from you.”

You slowly nod. He continues, “For years, we have been trying to find you.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Your blood will heal us. You will lead us.”

“Honestly, it looks like you’re doing fine without me.” Your lip curls as you assess the robes they wear—heavy, thick black robes (or rather, cloaks) that sink to the floor in an extravagant puddle.

This shit is too movie-like. Yet, it’s not the craziest thing you’ve ever seen. It’s just the first time you’re seeing something like this.

Right? You shuffle through your memories at lightning speed.

Yeah, no cult encounters.

What time is it? The sky is a sickly, gray-blue and the sounds of the nearest village are faint. The trees don’t answer you.

Aggravated, the front man stalks toward you. Out of instinct, you step back.

He doesn’t like that.

He grabs your arms and holds you still, the mask boring its hollow eyes into your frightened ones. “We are your disciples. You will heal us.”

“Heal what?”

He hesitates, then abruptly pulls the long sleeves up his forearms.

Spikes grow from his skin. Nasty, dangerously sharp spikes. The flesh around them is bruised and bloody. His veins are a heinous red. It’s like he’s a living rose thorn.

You cup your parted mouth. “Oh my Gods.”

Others step forward and showcase their deformities.

Some have real horns. Others cannot speak. Bones are easily breakable. Claws, or feathers, or bothersome shadows. There’s even one member who is intangible. Your hand goes right through them.

The fact they're all undeniably human is what they share in common. The ones who lack deformities in the face look like any person you’d pass on the street.

And there are literal children. Children. Immortal children. Their age, bizarrely, in nothing but a number. They speak like the grown adults around them.

“Now you see.”

You look up at their leader, brows furrowing. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”

He shakes his head rapidly, his mask still unnerving. “We know what to do. You simply need to offer up your blood.”

A startled laugh rattles your chest. “You literally sent a demon to retrieve me and you want me to help you?” You step away, trying your hardest to not look at the members with more severe disabilities. “Where is it anyway? You cannot let that thing wander through the mortal world without a leash.”

“I have been alive for two hundred years. I am the oldest. If you are worried that we follow Graciano’s ideology, you are mistaken,” the leader explains, ignoring your initial question.

Another laugh. “That would settle me if you people weren’t dressed like this or if you hadn’t sent a fucking demon to terrorize me.”

“Sending the demon was a precaution. We did not know how powerful you would be.”

Your mouth opens for another retort, but someone else from back of the group chimes in with, “I suggested we unleash a pixie messenger instead of the demon.”

“And this whole ordeal has demonstrated that you would not have willingly left with a pixie tour guide.”

“Damn right,” you mumble.

What the actual fuck is going on?

“Mother Earth,” the leader says. “Please help us.”

You piece it together bit by bit.

The cult is a literal cult with freaky attire, unsettling line delivery, and horrible manners. They unleashed a demon because they’re fucking idiots who couldn’t just ask you for help. Are they a cult like those that make the news? Violent, out for blood, and look up to a leader that will ultimately sacrifice them in the end? Or are they merely a group of people who found each other, donned creepy fucking masks for the hell of it, because of their shared life experience?

They are not original, Made Immortals. They are third generation, maybe fourth. You have no idea if they wanted to be Made or if they regret their decision. All you know is that they are horribly deformed and begging you to help them heal.

Which means they must be in awful pain and discomfort.

You’ve lived for hundreds of years. Your bones ache, your skin occasionally dries, and your heart slows from time to time. Yet, your physical appearance is that of someone who finds no need to hide.

Should you trust that they do not follow Graciano’s ideologies? Druig seems to think they still do.

You can’t help the overwhelming feeling that plagues your chest, though. Graciano’s blood runs through their veins. Their maker’s blood runs through their veins.

Your blood runs through their veins.

Children of Mother Earth. The title has you cringing.

“What would helping you entail?”

“Okay—” Thor runs a large hand down his face. “I think I’m all caught up now.”

Thor has his hair strung up in a bun. He wears a Guns N Roses t-shirt and regular jeans pants. The God is even wearing leather boots and a belt. Peter stares at him in pure wonder.

Sam rubs his temples, his face drooping from tiredness.

“Do you think you can help us?” Bucky asks.

“I can help you slaughter the cult. I do not know if my lightning will harm the demon.”

“Slaughter makes it sound so…”

“Evil," Sam stresses.

“Put down? Slay? Destroy?"

Peter clears his throat. “Wouldn’t the cult be hard to kill? You know…Considering they’re Immortals?”

Everyone takes a few moments to digest the words.

Bucky grunts, “Are we going to have to decapitate those fuckers?”

Druig snorts. “We don’t actually have to do much. I can control their minds and make them slice into their own throats. They’ll decapitate themselves.”

Sam shudders. “This is…Too fucking vivid. Too heinous. I don’t know if I can do that.”

“What do you expect to do then, Samuel?” Druig demands.

Sam glares at the Eternal. “I’m not letting Peter see that shit. It’s too fucking graphic for an eighteen year old kid.”

“I’ve literally seen the guts of aliens spilled on the floor, so,” Peter says, shrugging.

“Bear with me, kid.”

“Okay,” Bucky sighs. “We locate the group through Druig’s mind reading slash listening thing. Once we have their location, we search for Ace in the—”

Sam tilts his head. “Ace?”

“Yeah.”

It only takes a few seconds for Sam to piece it together. “Like, Acer?”

“Like Acer.”

“What does it symbolize?”

“Peace, because that’s what she’ll fucking need after being kidnapped by a fucking demon.”

“For sure.”

“Can we get back to the main situation?” Druig groans. He hovers near Thor mostly, probably because he’s the only other Immortal-like being in the room. Yet, Thor aims his facial expressions at Peter, who returns them excitedly.

“Right,” Bucky replies. “Thor—if the demon is present, you take care of that motherfucker. Peter, Sam, and I will be responsible for getting Ace out of there safely. Druig, you handle the cult.”

“With pleasure.”

If anyone would have asked Bucky what the hell he thought he would be doing today, this week, this month—it most certainly would have had nothing to do with demons and cults. He thought Hydra was bad with its government corruption, Nazis, and presidential assassinations. At least with Hydra, Bucky was dealing with real-life, flesh and bone human beings. Although, he would argue that Nazis aren’t people. They don’t deserve to be categorized in the human species at all.

Demons and cults, however…That makes his stomach churn and his blood run cold. He doesn’t know how to deal with those things. He’s the goddamn Winter Soldier—a ghost, a spy, a lethal weapon. No amount of bullets, spying, or grenades is going to stop a demon. Or maybe the demon is tangible…

No. Bucky would rather sit that shit out.

God, you must be so scared.

“Where do we put the bodies after we…” Peter inquires.

Thor raises his hand. “I can obliterate them.”

Sam gasps, “Hard no.”

“We have to put them somewhere.”

Bucky cringes as he says, “Ace mentioned that she could…lift roots. So the bodies could be hidden underneath—”

“This is such a fucked up conversation.”

“As if we hadn’t had worse shit happen to us,” Peter argues, rolling his eyes at Sam.

Sam sighs, bowing his head as he rests his hands on hips. Bucky watches him, and sees a little bit of Steve’s mannerisms.

It’s got him grinning, even if all his nerve endings are on edge.

They’ve wasted too much time just calling Thor to Earth. Precious time. You could be hurt, tortured, taken to the fucking Underworld.

Bucky hasn’t felt this way since T’Challa had told him Steve and Sam were coming to Wakanda back in 2018. That impromptu visit resulted in half the world dying.

Bucky reminds himself that you’re strong, stronger than him and damn well stronger than a lot of people he has met. If anyone could survive a demon, it would be you. He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand not knowing.

Not knowing will be the death of him.

He does not know why his luck was shit and he disappeared in 2018.

He does not know why Steve left him so suddenly. It’s not like Bruce destroyed that stupid time machine.

He does not know why you were cursed to live forever, having to watch everyone else around you grow old and wither away.

He does not know why people are evil. From his experience, people are simply born that way. Evil people tend to be evil to the core. A person's environment and experiences are factors, but if they’re willing to change—Are they truly evil?

“When do we suit up?” Thor asks.

“Right now,” Sam answers. He looks at Druig, who nods. “Miles and miles until you find their minds, man. Go for it.”

Druig breathes in slowly, and searches. His eyes glow a bright yellow.

“You each get a drop.”

You’re crazy. Absolutely fucking idiotic, to be honest.

But here’s the thing:

They’re already immortal. You found the proof in their heartbeats. They weren’t lying when they said they were only a few centuries old. That would mean that none of them were around when Graciano ruled or when he was executed.

Besides, healing them wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. If they turn out to be evil once they’re healed, then you’ll kill them then. Plain and simple. But you cannot walk away from them when they’re suffering because of some fucker who utilized the “gift” you didn’t know you gave.

They’re already Immortal, you tell yourself. You’re not making them Immortal again.

“As you wish.”

It’s late in the evening and the sun is starting to set. Beautiful hues of blue and orange paint the cliffside and compliment the massive fire they have built and contained. They all stand in a circle, like the fucking cult they are, no matter how often you asked them to get into a single file line.

Like you’re giving out party favors.

Oh, Gods.

One of the nine women of the group gave you their robe so you’re not just parading around in your underwear. You tried not to stare at her moving flesh, almost like fish scales, when she handed it to you.

You glance at the fire, at the knife in your hand, at the human circle. Not even the Cold War felt so eerie.

“If I give you the drop, and nothing changes or something bad starts happening, I will not continue with the others,” you tell their leader. You’re grateful they all removed their masks for this. The man in front of you is in his mid-thirties, or mid-two hundreds really, and frozen in time. His black curls shine in the fire's light, as do his green eyes. He reminds you of every fictional character you've imagined when reading. Young, devastatingly attractive, but his eyes are old. Pained.

He nods. “We trust you.”

Quickly, because you’ll lose your nerve if not, you slice the palm of your left hand. Balking slightly, you look at him with the question you refused to ask earlier.

He nods again, understanding. He takes your mangled hand, looking directly into your eyes, and raises it to his mouth. His tongue peeks out, then lies flat as he swipes from the end of the cut to the top. Shivering, you watch as he laps at your blood like it’s the most desirable dessert.

It’s erotic, and quite unsettling. Drums pound in your ears, possibly the unsteady beat of your heart, as you watch his tongue poke out again. He laps it all up, even if it’s never-ending. Completely greedy.

“Had enough?” The stable delivery of your words elates you.

His eyes rise to meet yours. He wipes the side of his mouth, breathing heavily. “Yes. I apologize.”

“That was more than a drop.”

The confidence he had when he was licking you vanishes a little bit, a shy smile forming instead. “Don’t hold my fault against the others.”

You clear your throat, awkwardly. “Is it really that delicious?”

As quickly as it vanished, his confidence resurfaces. Cocky. “The richest flavor. It makes me want to get on my knees.”

You feel your face grow warm. Turning from him, you walk to the second recipient. Your palm is beginning to heal.

With your face flushed, you force yourself to look back at the leading cultist. “Is it working?”

He’s quiet for a moment, as if he’s trying to dig deep inside himself for the answer. He’s still breathing heavily.

“Take off your cloak,” you instruct. His brow lowers. “Take it off.”

He smirks, strips, and that’s when you see it. His thorns are shrinking, curling then snapping, his veins turning green, red, blue, purple. You watch his face and his arms. The pain flushing his features is unmistakable, but he’s enduring it. Every bit, every thorn submersion, every instance of blood poisoning.

He falls to the ground, a heaving mess. Someone unlinks their hands from the circle to crouch beside him. He clutches at their arms, their face, the ground.

When he falls silent, his body unnaturally still, you worry. All your original worries crowd in the forefront of your brain, screaming, scolding you. You move to fall beside him, but he revives. Breathing in deeply, everything falls into place.

The thorns are gone, replaced by beautiful golden skin and natural freckles. His veins run down their corresponding arms, alongside perfectly placed arteries and tendons and ligaments, shining green and purple.

It worked. It worked, it worked, it worked.

“You’re—”

“I’m me again.” His voice wobbles. “I’m me.”

“I do not know if it’ll last—”

“Mother Earth,” he says urgently. “You made me me again. If I die now, I will die myself. And I am grateful.”

Breathing in, you slice your palm again and hold it out for the next person. They too take more than a drop.

The last person, the Intangible, hesitates.

“I cannot do it. I cannot drink or eat. I am Midas without the touch.”

Fuck. You’ve healed each person besides him.

“How do the clothes on your back stay in place?”

He turns away, ashamed. “Maxwell believes it’s because I was gifted them. Something of my own, declared mine.”

You assume Maxwell is their leader.

“So I gift you my blood.”

“As easy as that?”

“We will see.” You slice your hand for the tenth time tonight, barely even wincing. “Tilt your head back.”

You raise your hand in the air, squeezing a fist, as the blood almost slips—

A scream erupts from the circle. You turn around and see a man with a knife in hand, slicing through his own throat. Whipping your arm out, tattooed vines stem from the tips of your fingers to your shoulder and neck. Nearby roots reach up and wrap around the man’s wrist, tugging him down and throwing the knife away. The man gurgles and tries to stop the bleeding himself before two women come to his aid.

Another scream, this one more brutal, and you witness the same thing. Except the woman is about to fling herself into the fire.

You bring the roots up, rumbling the ground and chipping rocks off from the cliffside. They wrap around her waist and hold her down.

“What’s going on?” you yell. You’re preventing two people from hurting themselves, and if others begin doing the same, you don’t know if you’ll stop them all soon enough.

“What—” You cut yourself off when you see a yellow glow emerge from the nearby woods. Dread and relief assault your senses simultaneously. Behind Druig, your friends appear. And they brought along Thor.

Fuck.

“Druig,” you call, resisting his pull. “Stop controlling them!”

The people you’re holding down begin snapping the branches keeping them safe, their own eyes bright yellow.

“Druig! Enough!”

Everyone behind him pauses. Like they’re the only ones who heard you.

“Druig! There are children here! Stop it! Stop!”

His head tilts, confused, but his rampage doesn’t stop. Another person begins screaming. You curl both hands, all your fingers, using all your might to call upon the Earth. The ground explodes the moment your eyes shine bright green, a roar sounds, and all heads snap to the woods your friends just emerged from.

Sam and Bucky tackle Peter to the ground when something leaps over them and sprints toward Druig. The ground shakes with its every step.

Bucky risks looking up. What he finds stuns him stupid.

A monstrous, twenty-foot thick tree roars, practically shattering the sound barrier. Its mouth—its fucking mouth—opens wide, spiked wooden teeth rattling as it roars again. It barrels across the short distance, picking Druig up with its arms, and slams him to the ground.

Half of your attention remains on Druig while the other half focuses on the task at hand. You bring your hand up, motioning to the speechless cultist in front of you. “Bend, and open wide.”

He obliges and you squeeze your fist hard. Drops of blood fall into his open mouth, remaining there, flowing through him. His wide eyes let you know he’s surprised too.

Once that’s done, you slowly turn back toward your magical creation pummeling Druig. Gritting your teeth, your eyes still glowing emerald, you curse. “Now, what the fuck did I say?”

Druig’s eyes are no longer yellow. In fact, he’s not controlling anyone’s mind anymore. He’s simply guarding his chest and head from the punches, eyes frightened.

You stalk toward him, hands still extended and tattoos still visible because of the crumbled sleeves. “When I say stop, you stop.”

Druig nods quickly, groaning.

“Tell me, Druig! Tell me you understand what I’m telling you!”

“Yes! Yes! I understand!”

You swipe your hand through the air, and the tree goes flying. Bucky hears it crash land somewhere back in the woods, but he’s too stunned to focus on that right now.

…What the fuck just happened?

“Am I not your Princess?” you ask Druig while he crawls from the hole. Your tone is death. “Should you not obey me?”

Druig stutters over a crumpled sound.

Before you can speak again, you’re knocked off your feet and thrown several feet away from him, back to the fire. Shocked, you look up to meet the hideous eyes of that same demon, blacker and more deadly. You quickly stand, powers ready.

“Oh,” you sigh. “It’s you.”

“My instructions were to capture you,” the demon explains, words somehow slick and sticky. “I was never given a time stamp.”

Maxwell, the lead cultist, curses loudly from behind. “It's lying! Its instructions were to bring you to us!”

“And yet, you did not instruct me to return to Hell after I succeeded.”

Maxwell meets your gaze, sorrow swimming in his irises.

“If you want me—”

Your words fizzle when a blast of lightning smashes against the demon’s skeletal body, throwing it away from you and to the ground. Its shadows dim, but it quickly recovers.

“A Norse God,” the demon licks. “What a treat.”

Thor has the good sense to look scared. Yet he challenges with, "War, demon! That is what you are starting!"

“I’ll leave you with this.” The demon vanishes, only to appear at your side. Bucky, Sam, and Peter are almost to your side when its shadows swallow you up. The demon floats over the cliffside, holding you by the back of the neck.

“When her heart beats again, I will come to collect my prize.”

When gravity pulls a body down, the stomach leaps up. You didn't think it would feel so traumatic.

You scream and claw at the air as you fall to the rocks below. Roots and branches swing over the ledge, but they’re not fast enough to catch you. Still, they persist.

Someone threw themselves over. This, you can see. Fog and mist blind you, but this you can see.

Webs stretch from his wrists, quicker than the trees, and snap against your abdomen like a sucker-punch.

But your head hits the rock, and you see nothing.

Peter falls on a nearby rock, but not with the same momentum as you. He scrambles on his hands and knees, hyperventilating.

“Oh my god,” he mutters. “Fuck, oh my fucking god.”

Peter doesn’t want to move you. He doesn’t want to make it worse.

“Oh my god,” he sputters, lips wet and eyes watering. “Oh my god!”

Bucky lands beside Peter with Sam’s hand in his. Sam’s wings re-enter their pack. Thor falls on the other side of you.

“Peter—” Sam tries, but is interrupted.

“I thought I—” Peter chokes. His hands hover over your chest. “I thought I caught her.”

Bucky’s not breathing at all. He tries to ignore the puddle of blood pooling beneath your head, tries to ignore the dead look in your eyes. Grief, upon grief, upon grief. Not even Hydra’s hands inflicted this much pain.

He drops to his knees just as Thor declares, “She’s Immortal. She’ll recover, she’s—”

Thor stops himself when Bucky tries to lift you up, and finds that the back of your head is practically caved in. Thor is right. You’ll survive this. You’ve inflicted worse on yourself—but does that make it any less gruesome, any less painful?

A million times no.

Bucky hiccups, holding you steady. His forehead rests on your sternum as he pleads, brokenly, “You don’t get to leave me. Not you. This time I’m begging.”

He begs the entire flight up the cliffside. The entire walk back to the house, avoiding the eyes of the cultists and Druig. Even when he and Sam place you in the bathtub and wash away all the blood they can.

You’re dead.

You’re actually dead, and Bucky can’t do anything but wait for you to come back to him.

It begins similarly as the last time. The same beautiful, blue cliffside and the same deafening silence. Yet, if you listen closely, you can hear the break of waves and whistle of the wind. But you don’t bother trying to define the elements—no—not when Ari is running to wear you’re standing.

You crash into each other in the same level of dramatics as before. There is no negative connotation to that word, however. You’ll be as dramatic as you want. You have five hundred years of dramatics to make up for.

“My love.”

God, his voice is like liquid caramel. So delightfully delicious. Memories bombard you: Ari, drunk and happy and dancing around the campfire on his birthday; Ari, brilliantly naked and stretching his morning muscles from deep sleep. The stories he would tell the children, how he would hold their hands when they learned how to swim—how you two tried to have children of your own.

“I’m dead,” you say, a gurgled laugh accidentally breaking through.

Ari stares at your face, scanning, then bursts into laughter. Your laugh mixes with his like chocolate and sugar.

“You will be back soon enough.”

Last time you “died”, resurrection occurred a few hours later. Of all the ways to die, this wasn’t the most pleasant.

“Did I do something bad?” you ask.

Ari shakes his head. “No, my love. They were telling the truth.”

Air tumbles from your shaking mouth. At least that’s one good thing that’s come from this. You just hope your friends heeded your instructions and didn’t leave a massacre behind.

“I love you,” you respond, seizing his cheeks in your hands.

Ari smiles, teeth and all. “That has always been one of your first declarations whenever you see me.”

“I feel a lot of things, Ari. But my love for you exceeds all else.”

He grabs each of your wrists, but doesn’t pull you away. “And yet, the love I declare for you exceeds even that.”

You chuckle, allowing him to take your wrists to kiss the insides. His lips like a movie soundtrack, his touch mimicking dialogue.

“When will I wake?”

Ari takes the opportunity to come in closer, his chest against yours. “Soon.”

“And when we defeat this demon, will I see you again?”

Ari’s breath hitches. “I do not fault you or anyone for keeping the living safe. I understand your fight. But, my love…” Ari’s eyes close, and he rests his forehead against yours. “I am so tired of wandering alone.”

Five hundred years worth of cracks in your heart. What’s one more?

“There are no other lost souls with you?”

His expression is answer enough.

“You have been alone all this time? For over a century?”

“Have you not been alone, too?” It doesn’t sound like a question.

You pat his broad chest, too shaken to do anything else. “I am going to put you to rest, Ari. I promise you. I promise with everything in me.”

He nods, your connected heads moving at the same time. “I will stay with you now, after, and beyond.”

“If you want to rest forever, I will not prevent you from doing so.”

An afterlife can mean two things: Either he chooses to wander for however long he wants, at peace, until he decides to lay his soul to rest or resurrect. Or, he chooses to wander forever, his soul never resting but still at peace. A ghost in the afterlife, essentially.

As much as it pains you to let him go, you have to.

Ari places a soft but fierce kiss to your lips. This is your peace.

“I do not know if this is the last time we will see each other,” Ari mumbles. Even his breath tastes like caramel. “But if it is…My peace will always be found with you. Three or five hundred years, my love—It was not enough. No amount of time would have been enough for me to wholly sink into your soul.”

“Nor me, yours.”

You pull away from him to memorize his face. But it’s a face you’ll never forget, no matter how hard you try.

“I love you,” Ari whispers.

“For five hundred years more. And however long after that.”

Bucky leaves your room when he can no longer stand the dryness of his throat. All his screaming has left him sore, as if the demon’s claws dragged ugly indents along the walls of his throat. He looks at you, anger and grief a dangerous combination, and exits.

You’re dead.

You died. He saw you die. Peter tried to catch you, and you fucking hit your head so hard, you died. He had to watch you die because throwing himself off the cliff wasn’t a decision on the table. But he was ready—ready to spring himself just far enough to grab you, turn, and break your fall.

Is this how Steve felt when he watched Bucky fall?

Bucky cringes. Why would he think about Steve at this time? Why would his brain conjure up the image of him, when it knows it’s starting to make him angry? It almost feels like he’s cheating on you. He didn’t think about Steve once when he was sleeping with you, but now that you fucking die? It makes his stomach turn upside down.

How did this love become tainted? How did loving Steve become such a burden? Steve makes him love New York, then he hates the city. His memory soothes Bucky’s soul, but his actions make him miserable.

Is it possible to love and hate someone at the same time?

Bucky throws the glass across the room. It shatters in a triumphant display of glistening water and the shards of his heart.

“Leave me alone,” Bucky whispers, haunted by the very fact he’s asking that of Steve.

Isn’t that what he did? the voice in the back of his head cruelly whispers.

“It wasn’t the Steve I knew.”

Steve during the war, during Bucky’s rescue from Hydra, before Thanos—that was Bucky’s Steve. What the hell happened in those five years? Steve only had Natasha. Sam and Bucky were both snatched from his soul, coincidence and shit luck. Did it break him? Did it make Steve yearn for a world where everything was familiar? Did it make him forget?

Maybe in a few days, weeks, months, Bucky will forgive Steve entirely. Grief is a strange thing, a long haul of paralytic agony, that has no cure.

Bucky thinks of you, and how you’re still grieving after five hundred years, and is scared. He doesn’t want to grieve for that long. He wants it to end now.

Now.

He thought he never would, but he has begun cursing Steve’s name. His whole existence. What was the point of sending something so angelic, so heroic, so gloriously noble and marvelous, into Bucky’s life? What was the point of having Bucky Barnes fall so hopelessly in love only to end up with a disastrous story? Shakespeare would laugh, or capitalize from his heartbreak. Bucky’s life is a Shakespearean tragedy—Steve is the tragic hero, Bucky the tragic villain.

What else? Those two characters always have the most dire, erotic, agonizing tension that straddles the romantic dynamic of a tragedy. Steve was the play’s hero. Bucky, the villain. They were each other’s heart-wrenching antonyms, yet so terribly similar in the way their souls spoke. Characters so unfortunate in their endings, and an exhausting constant in each other’s dreams.

Last time Bucky had a good dream about Steve Rogers was when the Wakandan summer faded into autumn in the tragic year of 2018.

He misses that summer. He misses dreaming in June.

Shakespeare’s characters always meet a dreadful end. One that is unsatisfying. Bucky can’t think of a description more fitting when he opens that fucking bottle in the haunted, Icelandic house. He tips his head back and hates himself for it.

“You don’t get to do that.”

Bucky shuts his eyes tightly.

“Go back to bed, Sam.”

“I know we all deal with shit our own ways. You drink, Shortcake wallows, Peter works until he can’t feel his bones. But I’m begging you right now…Do not drink that.”

Bucky can feel it eating away at his insides. He needs another taste, the sip of the liquor that’s been soothing his stomach for the past year and half, making his heart beat just a little quicker, making him forget for just a few hours. He wanted to drown in it when Steve left, when Sam started putting his life in danger, when you didn’t open your eyes as he tried shaking you awake. It’s itching like crazy, picking and pulling at the open slip of skin near his lips.

And yet, the thought of Sam begging has his hands shaking. “Okay,” Bucky says quietly, putting the bottle down on the table. “I won’t do it.”

“I lost him, too,” Sam mutters quickly.

“Sam—”

“I lost him, too! He was my friend, too!”

Bucky chokes on a choppy inhale. Of course Steve was Sam’s friend, too. Of course he was, Bucky knows this. But it’s the exclamation that rocks Bucky to his core and causes his chest to heave once, then twice, as he tries to respond. There are angry tears forming in Sam’s eyes, incessant.

“You’re not the only one he fucked over! He left me, too!”

Bucky raises his flesh hand in a sort of surrender, unable to keep it from trembling. He turns a little to the side so he doesn’t have to look directly at Sam. If anyone walked in right now, Peter probably, it would look like Bucky is shielding himself from an incoming blow. But Bucky seriously, honestly, is curling in on himself.

“I know you loved him,” Sam continues, breath hitching. “And I know I’ll never know exactly what you’re feeling. But he left me, too.” Sam smiles sadly, then shrugs, as if it’s all his body can do. “He left me, too.”

The moment is frozen. For seconds, maybe minutes. Bucky doesn’t walk down the path of the bottle and Sam doesn’t leave the room. He feels like a small child being scolded, but Bucky knows that’s not a fair comparison. He doesn’t even want to call this a guilt trip. He’s had an intervention coming any day now. He just didn’t expect it to be so startling and blue.

“I’m not gonna let you drink yourself to death. I don’t know how your body works, or how the serum works, but I’m not gonna let it happen. I’m not your counselor, fuck, I’m nobody’s fuckin’ counselor. I’m your friend.”

Bucky looks at the bottle, his fingers fidgeting at his sides. His ribs are incredibly sore, and each intake of air resembles a stab of fire.

He lifts his head, meeting Sam’s brown eyes. “I need help.”

Sam’s lips part and a small crack in his throat loosens. His entire face flushes with grief. “Yeah, Buck.”

Bucky shudders, his eyes watering. “I need help.”

“I’m gonna get you help, okay? We all will. I promise.” Sam closes the massive gap between them, holding Bucky’s shoulders in place. “I’m going to be there along the way, okay? I’m not leaving you.”

Bucky grips the fabric of Sam’s sweatshirt. “Don’t leave me.”

Sam shakes his head fast. “I’m not going to leave you. But you gotta promise you’re not going to leave me too, yeah? You’re not going to leave me, or Ace, or Peter. We need you just as much as you need us, Buck.”

“Why did he leave us?” Bucky breaks, sobbing into Sam’s chest. He feels as if the fog in his brain has just lifted, but it’s fighting to stay clear.

Sam holds him, staring over Bucky’s shoulder. “Million dollar question, Buck.”

Maybe Bucky isn’t the tragic villain of this play.

Maybe it was Steve all along.

TAGLIST: @cloudyfeel @howlermonkey69 @wintersgirl1917 @aquariusbarnes @fandoms-writings @shirukitsune @goldylions @real-jane @mannien @sentimental-for-maneskin @dezthegeek @avengershoney @ginger-swag-rapunzel @natbarnes1917 @cutechubbybunnyy @gabewerk

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #reader x bucky barnes #dreaming in june series #dreaming in june #Bucky Barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x poc!reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #enhanced reader #captainsimagines #by Moni #chapter eleven #marvel fanfiction

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cherrycocaineee · 2 years

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24. Bucky Barnes - I Didn’t Mean to Leave You Alone

* WARNING: This follows none of the movies. It’s pure fun and fiction. Also, for my own characters, I’ve used Tokyo ghoul as a reference to her abilities and species. There are also mentions of long term sexual assault and abuse*

*Bucky’s p.o.v*

Flashback

She was quiet, even when she spoke her voice was no more than a whisper. Her eyes were dead and when they beat her she refused to cry, instead, she decided just to take it. At this time, she was only ten years old when her father sold her to HYDRA.

“She’ll make a great addition to the team,” a soldier said, “our leader will be happy to have someone so strong.”

“I’ve already worn her in for ya,” her dad said, “she won’t do anything unless you tell her to. And she’ll do anything you tell her to. Anything.”

All of them were laughing, as if they were in on some sick joke. Little did I know at the time. When I did come across the girl more closely, I noticed that they’d chained her up. Her hair, which was long and ash-blonde, was a bit unkept; her pale skin was dirty and bruised. But that wasn’t what got my attention the most. It was what she had to eat. HYDRA was careful not to give her too much, only enough to keep her alive. I remembered the first time I seen her eat, the sight almost had me gagging. It was human flesh, full of running blood that dripped from her chin as she devoured it.

I remember finally seeing her alone for the first time. In front of her was a regular breakfast: eggs, bacon, toast, and pancakes but it was untouched. Taking a look around her, I walked over to her causing her to look up at me.

“I’ve seen you before,” she muttered, not evening showing any type of emotion once, “you’re always just watching me.”

“What are you?” I questioned.

She shrugged her shoulders, “I’m a ghoul. Well, half-ghoul.”

“A ghoul?”

“I’m a creature that devours human flesh or other ghouls.”

I sat down in front of her, she did the same crossing her legs in the process. We stared at each other for a while before I continued asking her questions.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Aubree. What’s yours?”

“They call me the Winter Soldier.”

“You don’t have a real name?”

I did have a real name but at the time, I didn’t remember it. So all I could tell her was I didn’t know it and that all I remembered being called was the “Winter Soldier.” I remembered her telling me that it must be sad not knowing who I really was but I wasn’t sure how to respond to that so I didn’t. She didn’t seem to care if I answered or not.

After a while we seemed to get a long great, and I had started caring for her for a while. When I went on missions, I’d come back and see her. They’d continue to feed her human flesh but most of the time they’d give her regular food that made her physically sick when she tried to stick it in her mouth. I did what I could, giving her some of my blood from an open wound and if I didn’t have an open wound, I’d cut myself and give her a little. I took care of her. It was the only humanly thing I felt like I was doing. We grew close.

“Do you ever wish you were free?” She asked one day.

“What do you mean?” I answered.

“Well, I assume you’re being held here against your will or something. They don’t let you remember what missions you go on, always erasing your memory. They freeze you back up about an hour or so when you get back. So I figured if you had the chance, you’d escape.”

I thought about her question for a bit before shrugging.

“I’m not sure.”

“I would. You should see the things they do to me when you’re frozen or out.”

But that was all she said, and at the time, I never wondered what they could be doing to her. And if I was being honest, I didn’t even really care what they were doing. And a part of me figured she didn’t really care if I didn’t care. It wasn’t really my fault I was emotionless to begin with, so she probably just told me just to keep the conversation going. But she did ask me repeatedly, whether she knew or not, if I’d come back for her if I ever was to escape.

“So would you?”

And I’d grown so close to her, that a part of me felt emotional towards our relationship.

“Yes, Aubree. I’d come back for you.”

But I didn’t.

I’d forgotten.

End of Flashback

“How is she?” Dr. Strange asked as Bruce walked out of his lab.

“Fine,” he stated, “we have her locked away in an impenetrable barrier.”

I felt my muscles tighten as I listened to what he said. Steve seemed to notice, giving me a quick glance that noticeably read “are you okay” before looking back at the others. I had told them, when we came across her, that I had known her during my time with HYDRA. After HYDRA fell apart, Aubree was passed down to a new group called Necron, who happened to have the remaining members from HYDRA along with a new leader. Now she was now sixteen.

“Do we really need to keep her locked up?” I finally asked.

This caused all of them to look at me, some, especially Tony Stark, with annoyance.

“Of course we do,” Tony replied, “she just tried to kill us.”

“But she was being controlled. Like I was.”

“Bucky’s right,” Steve said, “we should give her to benefit of the doubt.”

“Well, I agree with Tony,” Clint said, “she dangerous.”

Steve raised his hand up, silencing them before walking down to Bruce’s lab. All of us followed after him. Aubree was walking around while being confined, a dull look plastered on her face. She was still covered in some blood. No one had said anything but she still knew we were there.

“I know you’re standing over there,” she muttered, “I can smell your blood.”

We walked over to her and she stopped walking so she was standing in front of us. Her dead eyes traced over all of us until they landed on me.

“Just gonna let them keep me locked up,” she hissed, “you always were such a help.”

“Aubree,” Steve said, “Bucky was just telling us we shouldn’t keep you caged in.”

“Oh, fuck off!”

Steve’s eyes widened.

“He doesn’t give a damn about me. He just feels bad for not keeping his fucking promise so he’s compensating! But unfortunately for him, I don’t care.”

I lowered my eyes, feeling bad enough that I didn’t deserve looking at her. But I wanted to defend myself. Tony looked at Aubree.

“Tell us about Necron,” he demanded.

She had already moved to the other side of the prison cell and leaned against it.

“What do you want to know?” She replied.

“Anything,” Nat said.

Aubree ran her fingers through her hair, probably thinking if she should spill her groups secrets. Though I doubted she was having a hard time considering it, and if I had to guess she was probably thinking of what she could benefit from helping us out. When she finally did answer, my original assumption was correct.

“I’ll tell you everything you need or want to know,” she replied, “if you let me out of this cell.”

There was a wave of skeptical throughout the crowd causing Aubree to roll her eyes.

“I’d also like to mention that if I wanted to kill all of you, I would have.”

That didn’t wave their decision at all, instead, they all turned around and left. Aubree rolled her eyes and turned away. Sighing, I followed my friends out of the lab and was closing the door when I heard Aubree scream in frustration. She was tired of being locked away, tired of being treated like an animal. Steve was staring at me when I walked away from the door, placing his hand on my shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze before walking away. I didn’t say anything, I just went to my room to think.

Hours passed before I decided to leave my room and join everyone for dinner. Wanda had made creamy garlic chicken with potatoes and grilled green beans. It smelled great. Wanda made plates for everyone before picking up an additional plate.

“I’m going to take this to Aubree,” she said.

“Why?” Clint asked.

“So she isn’t in there starving. We aren’t like her past captors, she still needs some food.”

“You can’t give her that,” I muttered, “she can’t eat it.”

“What does she eat?” Peter asked.

I froze. Everyone was holding their plates and staring between Parker and I. Tony, however, saved me from having to answer.

“Just go eat.”

Shrugging, Peter walked over to the large table to join those who were already sitting down. Wanda handed me a plate and I took it, muttering a quick thanks. Everyone else was chatting and going about their evening while I just thought of Aubree sitting in the lab all alone. Steve looked at me.

“Try not to think so much about her, Bucky,” he said.

“Is that what you would do if it were me sitting back there?” I asked.

“No but she isn’t you.”

“Steve, her life was much worse than mine. Besides being a pawn for HYDRA, I grew up with people who cared about me and friends to surround myself with. Aubree’s had no one. Her dad got rid of her when she was 10 and who knows what the hell happened to her before he gave her up.”

Now everyone was listening.

“Not to mention what HYDRA probably did to her while I was frozen or out on missions.”

“Have you ever asked?” Wanda asked.

“I never got the chance.”

“You should ask her now,” Vision said, “I’m sure she’d tell you.”

I took a large bite of food, trying to avoid replying to Vision. I doubted Aubree would want to tell me what they did to her now. She hated me. The rest of dinner was filled with aimless chatter that didn’t have anything to do with Aubree or Necron or anything else that had to do with work. When dinner was over, everyone went on about their evening. Nat and Wanda wandered off into a separate room, Vision was speaking with Tony, and then on. I decided to check on Aubree again.

In the lab, I saw Aubree sitting on the ground. Her legs were pulled up against her chest while her arms were wrapped around them. Her head was leaning against the wall of her confinements while staring forward. She looked exhausted and probably hungry. I walked over to her cell.

“What do you want?” She asked.

“I’m just checking on you,” I replied.

“Like how you checked on me when we were both property of HYDRA? Oh wait, now you’re the one holding me hostage.”

“Aubree, you tried to kill us.”

“I was doing what I was told to do.”

“I know that.”

“And you still let them lock me up.”

I looked down at my feet. There wasn’t really anything I could say to make her less angry at me. I knew that. Sighing, I met her gaze again.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

“Of course I’m hungry,” she muttered, “I haven’t eaten in a week.”

“And they brought you out in the battlefield.”

“Just because the group changed, doesn’t mean they’re less assholes than before.”

“Fair.”

I walked over to Bruce’s set and up and stared at the keys on it. There was a button that allowed me to open up her prison but before I pressed it, I had to make sure she wasn’t going to make a run for it or try to kill my friends.

“I’m not going to escape.”

I tore my eyes away from the keys. She was still sitting down, her eyes staring at me.

“I’ve given up on being my own person. So you don’t have anything to worry about.”

And I honestly believed her. She’d never given me a reason to not trust her. So I pressed the button and the light blue prison walls disappeared. And like she said, she didn’t get up and try to escape. She just sat there. I walked over to her and sat down in front of her like I normally did when we belonged to HYDRA. I removed my pocket knife from my jean pocket and rolled up my red sleeve. I met her eyes.

“Hold out your hands,” I said, “you’ll get messy but at least you’ll eat.”

She didn’t argue or protest, she just held out her hands and waited patiently. I slit my arm just enough to allow blood to come out and it steadily spilled itself into her palms. Once there was enough to cause a puddle in her hands, I pulled my arms away and covered the wound with my metallic arm, using enough pressure to stop the bleeding. She started drinking, some of the blood dripping from her chin. I couldn’t help but smile. I liked taking care of her. When it was all slurped up, Aubree sighed in relief and wiped the blood off her chin.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

It wasn’t a whole lot but it was enough to keep her full. We both sat there quietly; Aubree was picking at the rips in her jeans while I watched her. Something seemed to be bothering her but she was trying to hold it in. I decided to do what Vision said to do.

“What did they do to you?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” She replied.

“Long ago, you said that they did terrible things to you while I was out or frozen. What was it?”

She shrugged, “doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

A soft sigh left her lips.

“Mmmm,” her head tilted back, her eyes seemed almost full of tears, “they beat me a lot. I remember being covered in bruises most of the time. And sometimes…sometimes they’d rape me, you know.”

My back stiffened, my fist clenched.

“It hurt a lot. But I just…I just laid there.”

“Aubree,” I said, “you’re a ghoul and incredibly strong, even when you haven’t eaten. Why didn’t you kill them?”

Aubree wiped away the few tears in her eyes.

“I thought it was normal, you know. I mean, yeah, it sucked and I hated every moment of it. But it’s just how I grew up. You don’t say no, you don’t fight back. Either take it or I’ll forget about you and you’ll die.”

Just from those words, I suspected her father did the same things to her that HYDRA did. I felt sick.

“Why didn’t you come back for me like you promised?” Aubree whispered, “was it just a lie? Did they make you talk to me to get inside my head?”

“Of course not, Aubree!” I proclaimed, “everything just happened so fast that I forgot. I ran into Steve, and he was trying to help me, and some of his friends were trying to kill me because of what I did when I was under HYDRA’s control. I just forgot, I swear. But once I remembered, I did start making preparations to come back. Then HYDRA was destroyed and you were already gone. I thought, maybe, they’d killed you.”

She tried to wipe away her tears so I wouldn’t see them but it was too late, I had.

“Well it’s too late for you to do anything. Your friends already think I’m a monster. They don’t want me around.”

“That’s because they don’t know you. What you did wasn’t because you wanted to do it, it’s because they made you do it. I’ll help convince them you aren’t bad.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t mean to leave you alone, Aubree,” I said, “and because all of this happened to you because I forgot about you in the first place. I won’t make that same mistake again.”

Aubree watched me before standing to her feet, I followed her exact movement. She was much shorter than I was, and like before her hair was a bit mangled and her face was covered in dirt. But despite all of that, she smiled softly. Something I’d never seen her do. She held out her pinky.

“Promise.”

I smiled back and linked my pinky into hers.

“Promise.”

We unlinked our fingers before I turned to leave, going upstairs to speak to the others. I went to lock her back up but then I froze.

“I’m not going to lock you up again.”

She only nodded and I went back upstairs.

Talking to the others didn’t go as planned, not even Steve was happy about me letting Aubree sit in there without being confined. The whole way down there we were arguing about Aubree being potentially dangerous for all of New York. But when we got down there, Aubree was gone. There wasn’t a single sign of her.

“Aubree,” I said, hoping she was just hiding or looking around.

But she wasn’t there. In her place was a letter. I picked it up.

If you’re reading this, then I’m already gone. You don’t have to worry about me though. I’m not going back to Necron or anything but there is something I need to take care of before I go on normally with my life. I believed you when you said you’d talk to your friends but unfortunately, I knew what their vote would be. Creatures like me aren’t wanted around for anything other than strength. It was only a matter of time before someone wanted me to do something about Necron. Hope we meet again some day and maybe we can put everything behind this. And if you’re reading this Bucky, don’t be shocked that I just ditched. You’ve lied before too, remember.

When I looked up from the letter, everyone was watching me.

“She’s gone, huh?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” I muttered, “she’s gone.”

“Guys, look,” Bruce intervened.

All of us wandered over to him and saw that Aubree even left a note on Bruce and Tony’s computers. On the front it said “Necron.” Bruce opened it. Inside was all the information we needed to know about that organization along with another little message from Aubree.

A little show of good faith since I left. I never liked them to begin with so if you’d like to get rid of them, I won’t get in the way. As long as you don’t hunt me down, we’re good.

She was free.

At last.

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