#winter drabble

[lady-ashfade]

Snowballs.

Poly!Bakusquad x Reader.

Someting about the cooled, the snow on the ground made you feel so warm inside. Watching them play in the cold white fluff and laugh while throwing snowballs at each other made you feel so happy and in love. It’s been a year since you all started going out and this Christmas was the first season you spent as a couple.

“Don’t just stand there,” denki shouted and ran behind you as you laughed. “Help me.” The others look at you with smirks with the snowballs in their hands. You sigh and put up your arms ready to take the hits.

“Come one, do it.” You grin mischievously. They scream and start to launch them at you. You only laugh as they all hit you, one going in your hair and face.

Denki screamed and reached up and took your face in his hands, “Not the face.” He screamed and got in front of you again. “My hero.” He gave you one kiss on the cheek before turning around with a playful glare.

“Let’s get them.”

[kining-the-evil]

can I please request a Billy Loomis and a Younger Sister please? maybe a snowstorm happens and the power goes out and they are all alone and the reader knows about the ghostface killing so she is scared that he is going to get them but billy promises that he will never hurt her and is just all sweet and comforting. please and it is all your choice

sorry i am like a minute late

Warnings: The murders are happening; Stu and Billy are killers but it's fluffy.

AN: Don't worry about sending it in late. Reader is around five years old in this story

"Jesus fuck..." Billy cursed to himself as he yanked the jiffy pop off of the stove, the bag smoking slightly.

"Thats a bad word." Your voice came from the table where you were coloring.

"God dam- sorry. You're right." Billy apologized, digging in his pocket for a quarter to drop into the small jar on the window seal. After Billy heard you say a swear word after Stu had been over for the weakened, he convinced your dad to start a swear jar.

"When will the popcorn be ready?" You looked over at your brother as he waved away the smoke from the bag.

"I almost lit the bag on fire, what do you think?" Billy threw the bag onto the counter. "Besides, we have to wait for Stu anyways-" Billy's words were cut off when the lights suddenly cut off, cause a scream to leave your mouth. "Y/n-"

"Billy!" you screamed as you jumped up, running over to your brother and throwing your arms around his leg. "The monster!" you sobbed against his leg, and Billy was scoop you up.

"Hey, what's gotten into you? What monster?"

"The monster on the news! They're gonna get us!" You fisted Billy's shirt while crying into his chest. Billy felt his heart stop as he listened to your words. He knew what 'monster' you were talking about. The killings he and Stu were committing were all over the news, and clearly you had seen it.

"No monsters are coming." Billy calmly assured you, but you shook your head. "Look," Billy walked over to a window, pointing outside. “It’s the snow, it made the power go out.”

You turned your head slightly to look out the window, seeing the heavy snow falling from the sky. “But the news-“

“It doesn’t matter what the news says. Would I ever let you get hurt?”

“No…”

“Exactly. I promise you, no one’s going to hurt you. I’ll always protect you, okay?” You looked up at Billy, tears still sliding down your face.

“Pinky promise?” You sniffled while holding your pinky up. Billy smiled slightly and linked his pinky with yours.

“Pinky promise.” You smiled slightly as you shook your pinkies together. “Now, come on.” Billy started walking towards the stairs.

“Where are we going?” You questioned as he started walking up the stairs.

“To make a fort. Obviously, we have to make a fort if the powers out.” Billy stated as though it was fact. “And when Stu gets heat we can make him sleep in it too.” You cheered at his words, letting Billy set you down so you could run into your room to collect stuff, your worries completely forgotten.

[apinchofm]

They should really go back inside and join the party. They are not really a couple; lovers, perhaps if Edwina wanted to say. 

But instead they are in the doorway to the back garden, leaning against the wooden frame of the door, glasses of wine in hand. She was glad she picked her brown wool coat - warm, accessible. Her cherry red dress underneath was festive but not warm enough. 

Friedrich with his blue lambswool scarf that she's stolen before and his tweed coat looks every bit the writer he is. She really wants to sleep with him tonight, even though she is at her sister's holiday party.

“You are spiraling. Over-thinking.” Friedrich said.

“I am not.” Edwina protested, her wine glass close to her lips.

“How many revisions now?” Friedrich asked.

“...only twelve.” Another sip of wine and she rolled her eyes at his pointed look, “Fifteen. Thirty. I want it to be perfect. You're the masochist.”

“Am I?” 

“You have a typewriter.” 

He chucked warmly, finishing his glass and leaning indoors to place it on the counterpart nearby.

“It helps me think.” Friedrich defended.

He placed a cigarette between his lips, looking to her for permission and she nodded gently. She wants to kiss him all the time as though he belonged to her. She had to remind herself that he didn't. 

“Do you want to go to mine?” Friedrich asked, “Your computer isn't there. No more revisions.” He took another drag of his cigarette and exhaled, “It is the holidays, after all.”

“As long as you don't use your typewriter in bed.” Edwina jokes.

He leaned in closer to her, gently brushing his hand against her free hand. 

“You love the typewriter.” Friedrich whispered.

Edwina said nothing but finished her wine, tilting her head upwards, “I do.” She smiles.

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Whenever | Tagged by @adelaidedrubman @cassietrn and @direwombat

Stopping by this week with a little snippet from Jacob and Mercedes' winter drabble where she truly tests his patience. 🤍

"When, Isaac?", Jacob's question hung in the air, met by silence that made the cabin feel even smaller, especially with the storm raging outside. Dolos had refused to leave his side since he had walked into the house, appearing just as on edge as he was at the absence of his owner. "I think,", there was a pause, his Chosen selecting his words carefully at the dangerous edge his voice carried, "40 minutes ago, sir." The revelation caused his frown to deepen as the hand running over the canine's white fur froze completely, "Think? I need better than that, seeing how you didn't go with her." "She insisted she could handle the drive back, and I had to take care-" "Did I ask you for an excuse, soldier?", Jacob cut him off. "No." "What I thought." The radio receiver clathered uselessly against the table as he pushed his chair back and hurriedly shrugged on his coat. Reaching her directly had proven unsuccessful. Sitting around while he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the ride back would have taken Mercedes less than how much time had already passed was out of the question, not with his worry only increasing by the minute. Dolos was right on his heels, gaze meeting his when Jacob came to an abrupt stop in the small hallway, "Stay. I'm going to find her. Bring her home. She's okay." He couldn't decide if he was assuring the dog or himself of that. But his words must have sounded convincingly enough to her companion, making him retreat to the living room. "Goddamn it, woman, always so stubborn.", he muttered under his breath, a gust of wind trying to force him back inside the second he swung open the front door.

Cold bit at his face, but he ignored the feeling and pushed forward through the snow that seemed to have doubled in the last couple of minutes and was quickly covering the cabin's previously cleared driveway. His mood soared as he sped off in the direction of St. Francis, the truck's wipers struggling against the mad flurry of snowflakes that swirled around until he could barely see the road, let alone any animal that might decide to cross it. Months back, he probably wouldn't have thought twice about Mercedes getting into trouble let alone made it his problem, yet now no matter how much he tried to remain stoic and push down the raising emotions within him, he couldn't. The white scenery gave way to a smudge of red on the path ahead of him. A truck. Hers. The sight caused him to slam on his breaks and jump out of the vehicle, the empty interior of the abandoned ride threatening to extinguish any hope he had about easily finding her. Faint tracks led away from the passenger's side door, signaling she had headed off down a bent that ended nowhere safe, especially during a blizzard. He cursed at the snow that slowed his movement, at the fact more was falling and covering her footsteps, and she was most likely lost in the middle of the woods with dusk approaching steadfast. "Mercedes!", her name was drowned out by the whistling wind, a wolf howling somewhere far into the distance, his guard immediately rising up as he pulled a pistol out of the holster strapped to his thigh.

His eyes scanned ahead, clinging onto the remainders of her reckless detour that meandered around the looming pines. A small figure that almost appeared as a mirage through the gale beating at his form had him rushing through the dense snow that would have almost been knee-deep for someone as tall as Mercedes. His strides were determined as his sights set on the silhouette, and he called out her name again. Jacob had no idea if she had somehow heard him over the persisting storm or had stopped on her own accord, but it gave him a chance to catch up. His hands grasped her while he examined her from curls covered by a knitted beanie down to her coat that was failing miserably against the dropping temperatures and boots swallowed by the snow piles. Confusion swam in her dark eyes when they met his. "Jacob.", her voice was barely audible over the howling wind, and whatever she said next got completely muffled into his chest when he pulled her into his embrace. Her fingers clutched at his coat, body shivering against his. "Come on before the storm gets any worse.", he commanded with a frown, hand wrapping around her to keep her close and help in navigating the terrain faster. His thoughts were as chaotic as the weather around them, a blur of possibilities that only grew darker at the idea he could have been late. Found her- No. "Keep moving. Come on, sweetheart. We're almost there.", whatever anger he felt at her foolishness dissipated at how weak she appeared, and before he could think twice, he scooped her up, arms wrapping around his neck as he carried her the way he had come from. He moved with a new purpose, fueled by the promise of the warmth of his truck. "You're so warm. So warm."

Mercedes kept her face buried in the crook of his neck, and soon enough, he broke through the treeline and onto the road. Jacob pulled the door open, quickly depositing her in the passenger's seat before climbing in too and starting the truck. "Do you know how worried I was?", the confession slipped past his lips, eyes remaining on the treacherous road ahead when all he wanted was to glance towards her and check on her condition. "The truck died on me completely. I thought it would be faster to walk home before the storm gets any worse." The dismissiveness to her statement paired with the way her teeth chattered only made his hold on the wheel tighten before he uttered out, "You get into any kind of trouble, you radio for help. We talked about this." "Isaac... had his hands full already." "I didn't mean Isaac, Mercedes. You radio me." She crossed her hands over her chest, "I don't need you to come to my rescue." "Well, if it ain't too late for that, sweetheart. Would you rather I leave you to wander off into wolf territory next time so you become their dinner? Makin' sure my future Judges are well-fed." "You're such an ass sometimes." "I'd take that as a thank you for saving you." "Of course, you will." A huff broke free before her gaze focused out of her window, and she settled for ignoring him. Or so he thought until he snuck a quick look her way and caught her drifting off, head almost banging against the glass.

His arm shot out and landed on her shoulder to stir her up, "Hey, hey, stay with me. No sleeping." Her eyes fluttered open at his gruff tone, dark gaze filled with confusion once more meeting his, "Jacob?" "I need you awake, sweetheart." Her hand was ice cold to the touch when Jacob grasped it in his, despite the heat blowing in the truck. "Just wake me up when we-" "I know you're thinking you're tired, but you're not, you're freezing, and sleeping will not help keep you warm, okay? It's only going to make things worse." He expected Mercedes to argue again, instead, she gave him a curt nod before intertwining her fingers through his. Something about the simple touch stopped his frustration from rising up again. The snow that had gathered over the short ride back and forth and white flurry on the other side of the windshield almost made him miss the turn leading up to the cabin. "Stay in the truck.", he instructed as he parked as close to the house as he could and climbed out to get to her side. Jacob dreaded forcing her out in the cold once more, especially with how the wind cut through his clothes, but staying in the truck seemed counterproductive with how much the weather was worsening. "I can walk.", annoyance was written all over her face upon sensing his plan when he pulled her door open. "And I'm still going to carry you, so we can spare ourselves another useless argument."

Mercedes eased into his arms after giving him a dark look, and he set off towards the porch with a couple of long strides. He pushed his way into the house, forcing the door closed with his foot to stop the cold from following them in before lowering her to the ground and kicking off his shoes. Snowflakes had gathered into her blonde curls, and in another situation, he would have caught himself gawking if it wasn't for the visible shivers and her very flushed cheeks. "Come on.", his hand grasped hers, and he pulled her along as soon as her boots were off. Thankfully he had the forethought to light a fire before his call with Isaac so by then the cabin had warmed up, instead of greeting them with its own level of coldness. Dolos let out a happy bark the second the two came into his view, rushing at Mercedes to nudge her leg with his nose in a greeting. "Hey, baby. I didn't mean to worry you.", her voice dipped with sweetness as she addressed the canine, hand stroking his head for extra reassurance. A curt nod from Jacob was enough to settle him back down by the fireplace. At least one of you is listenin' to me… He led her to their bedroom, helping Mercedes shrug off her coat before moving onto her jeans that were no doubt soaked through from her improvised trek.

"Ah, now I see…", she quipped from above as he crouched down and pulled at the material, hands landing on his shoulders for balance while his touch trailed down her cold skin. Her eyes shone with a playful gleam when they found his, "It was all a big ploy just to get me naked. So sneaky of you, Mr. Seed." Jacob rose up, a frown still ruling over his features, "In bed, Mercedes." "Bossy.", her shaky fingers worked on the buttons of her shirt that was as dainty as all the dresses she wore, "Forgot something, though." Getting seduced by someone battling any level of hypothermia was certainly a first, but he had quickly learned to expect anything from Mercedes, even when she wasn't feeling at her best. "We're not going there.", he warned as the garment came undone, a sliver of her white lacy bra teasing him underneath. Goosebumps spread over her exposed flesh when the shirt hit the ground, but she didn't let that stop her, reaching for the piece of lingerie next, "Enough, Mercedes." "You're no fun." He shook his head at her pout and forced himself to lift up the covers instead of taking a step in her direction and helping her take off what little covered her body. His own thoughts had taken the same route she had, but he knew fucking her like she wanted wasn't going to be helpful no matter how much it promised to release the frustration he was dealing with thanks to her stunt. Head in the game, soldier.

"In bed.", he repeated when she remained standing up, clearly ignoring instructions to spite him. "You gonna make me?" Don't bite. Don't. A grunt ripped free, "Or freeze your ass off." Before he could fall right into the very obvious trap set up for him, he stormed out of the room, her soft laughter echoing behind him, "Yes, dad." It was another attempt to rile him up, the same way she would throw in 'brother' every once in a while when addressing him in front of Joseph, having figured out how much he hated the word. Jacob took a deep breath the moment he was on his own in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets until he located everything he needed while he waited for the water to boil. He quickly gathered a spare blanket Mercedes kept laying around in the living room for anytime she would fall asleep on the couch while waiting for him to come home. A look through one of the small windows revealed what he suspected already: the storm wasn't letting up and he was truly lucky to have found her when he did. "She's something else, isn't she?", he whispered to Dolos when he ambled into the kitchen, "But then again, she prefers to put me through those trials…" His name sounded from the bedroom, making him tense up all over again with how she sing-songed it. "Yes?", he hollered back and poured water into the mug she seemed to favor. Honey as sweet as her tone followed suit, same one he had been licking off her body days back. Don't go there.

He didn't want to read too much into the idea he had noticed what things she had made hers in the house that not that short ago had belonged to strangers. "Just making sure you didn't flee into the storm to escape me." With his quest essentially completed, he set off back to the bedroom, reminding himself he had to be strong. "I have no idea what you mean." "Mhm, sure you don't.", a smile was aimed his way when he entered, and a part of him was taken aback by the fact she had complied for once and actually crawled in bed as advised. Her hands snuck out to grab the cup he offered her and cradled it between her palms, a sigh in content leaving her lips at the warmth it provided. "Feelin' better yet?", he asked as he spread the knitted blanket over the sheets and took a seat at the edge of the mattress, watching her as she sipped the drink. "Yes. And don't worry, I won't tell Isaac and the rest about your soft side. It would be our little secret." His eyes narrowed at her loaded look, "No such thing." "You made me tea. Just as I like it, if I might add." A strange feeling appeared in his chest at the compliment. Pride, as perhaps John might categorize it. All he could do was stare while she drank her tea, then got up to leave when she placed the almost empty mug at the night stand, "I will be in the liv-" "No."

He tried his hardest to read the expression she wore, "No?" "I'm far from being warmed up completely, Jacob.", the way she bit her lip promised nothing good, same for her gaze traveling down his form, "And you were out there too… so, join me." "I'm not fucking you." The sharp reply won him an eyeroll, "I don't recall asking you to." Your eyes sure did. "I will be-" "-joining me in bed as soon as you undress? Yes, sounds great. Get on with it. Or are you enjoying sitting around in your damp jeans too much to?" Sitting around in jeans that he had trudged through knee-deep snow was inarguably far from the worst predicament he'd lived through, and he doubted she needed an actual reminder of it. He bit back the remark stating just that and headed for the door, her voice stopping him in his tracks and trampling over whatever self-control he had left within him. "Running away from little old me.", she tsk-tsked playfully, "And here I thought you were strong." "Mercedes." "What?", an innocent smile met him when he spun back around and erased the distance between them. "Remember what I said." "Which part?", she let out a laugh at his narrowed look, "I'm a bit out of it." He undid his jeans and pushed them down his legs with a sigh then shrugged off his shirt, "Very funny." "I was about to ask if you had grown shy all of a sudden and want me to look away with how much time you were taking to undress."

Now down to his boxers, he slid under the covers and wasted no time in pulling her close. "We're way past that, wouldn't you say?", Jacob muttered against her hair, placing a kiss on top of her head. Her body temperature seemed to have improved significantly as she sank into his embrace and his hand wrapped around her waist on instinct. His fingers spread over her abdomen, the realization they found no barrier of clothing registering in the next second. "You're completely naked." Mercedes hummed in response, "Skin on skin, isn't it how it works, Mr. Survival expert?" "I'm still in my underwear." Her hand covered his, "A problem with a very simple solution." "I'm not removing them." "We shall see about that.", the words were paired with her backing into him completely intentionally, which she played off as getting comfortable, "So… you were already home?" "Yeah." Her scent he had grown so attached to invaded his senses, and against his better judgment, he breathed it in like Angels did with their next fix of Bliss. "Why? Isaac said you were swamped with work." "Just because." She twisted in his arms to face him, giving him a solid confirmation she had gotten rid of her bra as well when she plastered her chest to his.

Her lips pursed at the excuse just as the lights in the room flickered, making him wonder how bad the blizzard was becoming, "Try again." "I was worried." "About me?" "About you setting the house ablaze while trying to start a fire." Fingers pinched his side, making him bite back an yelp at the surprise attack, "Asshole. You know I'm perfectly capable-" "I was worried about you and Dolos, and getting stuck in the dark if the cabin loses power. Happy?" Her dimples appeared at the confession, "So you came back." "And you're lucky I did because who knows what would have happened if I hadn't." "Natural selection taking its course, I believe, would be the term?" Jacob gave her a dark look before rolling on top of her and cupping her cheek, "Don't even joke about it." "Or I guess you prefer culling-"

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @strangefable @strafethesesinners @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @onehornedbeast @aceghosts @voidika @corvosattano @carlosoliveiraa @nightbloodbix @finding-comfort-in-rain @dumbassdep @la-grosse-patate @florbelles @unholymilf @purplehairsecretlair @thesingularityseries @jackiesarch @marivenah @macs-babies @shellibisshe @simplegenius042 @kyber-infinitygems @g0dspeeed @theelderhazelnut @wrathfulrook and anyone with something to share <3

[leasstories]

Lea’s advent calendar day 20 - Stuck together

@writerthreads writing prompt for Christmas (2022), prompt 27:

[confessing a crush when it’s snowing]

Eddie x gn!reader

No trigger warning.

WC: ≈ 0.6K

December 20th, 1985

You went to the library to give back some books and as soon as you got out of the High School it started snowing. It is snowing so much that you can’t walk home, and your mom couldn’t drive to come get you. You turn around, looking for somewhere to stay when you spot that the theater room’s lights are on. You approach the room and spot none other than Eddie, sat on the throne at the head of the table. If there’s one thing to know about you, it is that you’ve had a crush on Eddie ever since you became a student at Hawkins High. At first, Eddie was two grades above you, but then he had to retake his Senior year not once but twice! And you were secretly happy to be given more time with him, even if you were only admiring from afar. Eddie and you share a few classes together, but you’ve never spoken. You’re the bookworm kind of person and you don’t think Eddie would be interested in spending time with you.

“It seems like you’re stuck with me” Eddie speaks up, cutting you off from your thoughts.

“Apparently” you tell him while sitting on the closest chair.

“It’s a real storm outside” Eddie says, trying to make small talk.

All this situation is nerve wracking for you. You’re stuck at school, with your crush. All of this seems like a really really bad dream, except it’s not.

“It is” you confirm.

Eddie says your name. “You’re YN aren’t you?” he asks.

You nod, fidgeting with your fingers.

“And you’re Eddie.” You end up saying. As soon as the words leave your mouth, you scold yourself.

“The Freak himself” Eddie answers.

“You aren’t a freak.” You tell him, self-assured.

“I am to everyone else in this goddamn town.” Eddie says matter of factly.

“They are just stupid. You’re not a Freak nor dumb like everyone says.” You tell him, angered by the town’s opinion on your crush.

“You don’t know me.” Eddie says.

“We might have never spoke but I’m really observant and I didn’t see a Freak or someone dumb. I just see a boy who’s hurting inside but tries to hide it. I see a bruised kids hiding behind a mean and scary persona. I see a kindhearted human being.” You tell Eddie, getting passionate about it.

Eddie is baffled by how much of him you understood just by being observant. Even his closest friends probably wouldn’t say such things about him. And the truth behind your words is what baffles Eddie the most. He is hiding behind his mean and scary persona.

“How did you see all of that?” Eddie asks, hesitant.

“As I said, I’m observant.” You shrug, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.

“You understood me better than some of my closest friends…” Eddie says.

“Eddie?” you ask shyly, the weight of your secret becoming more and more unbearable.

“Yes Sweetheart?” he asks.

“I know I’m not the kind of person you’re into at all, but I can’t keep it to myself anymore” you say before taking a deep breathe. “I like you.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, time slow down, you can see each snowflake falling on the ground from the window, Eddie moves towards you as if the world was in slow motion.

You feel Eddie’s calloused hand cupping your cheek and feel him press a kiss on your forehead.

“You were wrong about one things Sweetheart. You’re definitely the kind of person I am into.” Eddie answered.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Your Ghost Knows Me

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: On a mission to dismantle a Hydra base, Bucky’s activation codes are triggered. And what does he do without a kill order?

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: mind control; non-consensual behavior (not sexual but bodily autonomy themes); possessive behavior; gun violence (implied, not graphic); threats of violence; emotional manipulation (unintentional); PTSD; trauma responses; forced proximity; mentions of Bucky’s past; Hydra

Author’s Note: I'll never get tired of a possessive Winter Soldier!! Honestly, I should write about him more often. Anyway, this absolutely iconic request is from my sweet dear!! Thank you so much, and I hope you'll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

There is always something quiet about Bucky when he looks at you before the mission begins. Quiet in the way thunder is quiet just before the crack. As if he is holding something inside himself too loud for the world.

You always say his name and he would look at you like he’s afraid to blink.

You don’t think you’re supposed to notice the way he hovers at your side. You’re not supposed to feel his shadow, stitched to your steps. But you do. You always do. Because Bucky Barnes does not know how to stay subtle. Not with you. Not when he thinks you might not make it out of this alive.

Your mission is to break into an old Hydra base with heat still humming through the walls and ghosts still hanging from the rafters.

The team drops in like rain. Controlled chaos. Clint on the left flank. Sam from above. Steve on the right flank. Nat somewhere in the dark.

You are light-footed and fast and smart and alive. Bucky stays behind you. Always behind you. Watching your six. He never lets you fall.

And you get the proof of this for the thousandth time when he throws his arm out and grabs your vest to yank you back hard enough to make you gasp. Your heart stutters in your throat. You stumble, twist, spin - and crash into him.

There was a tripwire. You almost walked into it. And Bucky saw. He sees everything.

“You okay?” He breathes, voice low, not quite touching worry but brushing the edges of it.

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “Thanks.”

He nods. Says nothing. Keeps moving.

You press forward into the maze of concrete and metal that is the Hydra base, gun raised, heart playing the drum in your ribs.

Bucky slows.

You glance over at him. “What is it?”

He stares at a rusted door, barely ajar. A soft static pulses from within, like an old radio dying in slow motion. The sound crawls down your spine. Your skin prickles.

“Bucky,” you start, reaching for him. “Let’s move.”

But he’s already walking toward that door with narrowed eyes.

The room is dark. Cold. Frost is on the walls like a memory that won’t let go. A machine in the corner makes low noises. Wires twitch on the floor like veins ripped from a corpse. The air stinks of metal and mildew and something old. Something wrong.

And then it speaks. A voice, thick with static, seeps out of the machine. A voice you don’t understand. Not really. You can’t make out the words, but you know them. You know what they mean.

“Желание. Ржавый.”

You spin around, heart rushing up to your ears, calling his name, but it’s too late.

“Семнадцать. Рассвет.”

Bucky stands frozen.

Stone. Steel. Silence.

His face is slack. That haunted stillness takes over.

He isn’t gone. But he isn’t Bucky anymore.

“Печь.”

His eyes go distant. Flat. His face cracks into something you’ve only seen in nightmares. No fury. No fear. Just absence.

“Доброкачественный.”

“No,” you breathe. Your heart forgets how to beat. “Bucky,” you basically yell at him. Nobody even knew there were still functioning systems here. But they’d been waiting. Planning.

“Девять.”

“Bucky please snap out of this.” You know it’s useless. You don’t know why you say it.

“Возвращение на родину.“

Your hand trembles around the grip of your weapon as you force yourself to jump out of the shock your limbs are locked in. You raise your arm and aim. You pull the trigger. One.

“Один.”

Two.

“Грузовой вагон.”

Three.

Four times.

The machine sparks. Cracks. Screams. A dozen red lights blink and die like stars going out. The voice cuts out, perhaps wanting to give a command, a final breath of Russian strangled by silence. And it slams into the room like a body.

For a heartbeat, for a breath, you think it’s over.

You hope it’s over.

But his name dies on your tongue when you turn back to him.

Bucky doesn’t speak. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe like a man. He doesn’t look at you - he tracks you, the way a sniper does. As if you’re a piece of intel.

Sam’s voice crackles over the comms. “Hey. We heard something. Everything good over there?”

You can’t answer right away.

Your voice is lost.

Because Bucky Barnes is gone.

And the Winter Soldier is standing in his place.

It takes you a minute to explain your situation and you hear the tremor in Steve’s voice when he tells you they’re on their way.

You try to breathe around the panic growing like thorns in your chest.

You whisper his name, again and again, as if it’s a spell that might pull him back. But the Winter Soldier does not know your voice.

Does not know you.

And when Steve finally rounds the corner, face pale, shield up, Bucky growls.

Low. Subhuman. A warning without words.

“Woah, woah- easy,” Steve says, holding up a hand. He looks at you. “He’s- He’s not gone. We’ll fix this. We can bring him back.”

You don’t know how promising he tries to make this sound.

But Bucky shifts his body, in front of you.

He plants himself between you and everyone else, like a wall, like a weapon.

Like a threat.

No orders. No hesitation. Just instinct.

He scans Steve’s hands. Sam’s gun. Natasha’s eyes.

Every time someone even twitches in your direction, he angles his body tighter around you, metal hand flexing. His breathing is shallow. Sharp.

He has no words. No explanations. He doesn’t seem to need them.

You try to take a step forward, away from his back. He moves with you. You stop. So does he.

“Please,” you whisper. “Bucky. Come back.”

But he doesn’t flinch.

Not for the begging in your voice. Not for the heartbreak in your eyes.

But you know he doesn’t hear you. He only hears the ghosts in his blood. The machine in his brain. The purpose Hydra seared into his bones.

“Alright, this can’t-“ The moment Sam takes a step forward, Bucky moves.

He grabs you. Not roughly, not violently, but fully. As if the air between your bodies has never existed. As if he’s made of magnets and you’re the only thing that ever pulled him north.

His metal arm anchors around your waist, his other hand at your shoulder, your spine, your hip - everywhere, all at once. He places himself between you and the others again and makes sure to keep you there as if you are a holy thing. His breath is ragged. Feral.

“Bucky,” Steve tries. There is something pained in his tone. Also something warning. “Let her go.”

But he doesn’t listen.

Because there is nothing left to listen to.

No more commands. No more codes. No more voice in his ear.

So he seems to have written a new directive into his mind and that is you.

You are the mission now. You are the purpose, the protection, the last thing left when everything else burns.

His hand is wrapped around your wrist so tightly, it makes your breath hitch. But you don’t pull away. You can’t. There is something in his eyes. Something not Bucky but not nothing either.

Not the soldier.

Not the man.

Just this animal of loyalty. Of violence. Of need.

You try.

God, you try.

You speak to him in pieces. In whispers. In words coming from trembling lips and bruised hope.

“Bucky,” you plead.

Soft. Like maybe softness will do it. Like maybe he’ll come back to the sound of your voice wrapped in love instead of command.

But he doesn’t.

And he doesn’t let anyone near you.

Not Steve, who takes one careful step and ends up with a knife lodged in the floor in front of his foot.

Not Sam, who reaches out and gets a warning growl that raises the hairs on your arms.

Not Natasha, who tries to circle behind, quiet as a whisper - and is met with the barrel of Bucky’s gun aimed clean between her eyes.

You frantically call Bucky’s name.

“Hey- easy,” she says, voice low. “Nobody wants to harm your girl, Barnes.”

He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t care.

He tightens his grip on you, fingers locking around your arm like a shackle. You try to find a piece of Bucky still breathing in there.

But all you see is possession.

He steps back into the shadows, pulling you with him, shielding you with his body as if the world is trying to take you and he’s the last wall still standing.

No one sees you now.

Because he won’t let them.

He moves you behind crates. Walls. Corners. Shadows. Always putting something between you and them. Always hiding you. Not out of shame. Not out of fear.

Out of possession.

Out of protection.

Out of a command he gave himself.

You are a mission. A precious object. A singular order sculpted into the ruins of his memory.

You hear Steve’s heavy sigh. His quiet and deep voice. The pain in it. “We need to sedate him.”

The next thing you pick up is the click of a safety releasing.

Bucky’s gun is pointed and ready.

He would kill for you right now.

He would kill them.

All of them.

Within the blink of an eye.

For you.

“No,” you croak out, voice breaking. It feels wrong to call him Bucky. It feels wrong to call him Soldat. “Please don’t! Don’t do this!”

You don’t know if it’s something in your voice or something in your tense stance against his back, but he slowly lowers his gun, slowly turns his head to stare at you.

Empty.

Unreachable.

But somehow not cold.

And then his hand rises. Flesh fingers trace your jaw. So gently it nearly breaks you.

It’s not affection. It’s assessment.

He’s checking. For wounds. For weakness. For threats, you might be hiding beneath your skin.

You breathe as if forgetting how to.

You try to shift. Just a little. Just to look behind him. Just to meet Steve’s eyes, Sam’s, Natasha’s, Clint’s - who finally got his ass here as well.

But Bucky moves. Fast.

A hand around your chin. Tilting your face back toward him.

Eyes narrow. Jaw locks.

You know what it means.

He doesn’t want you to look at them.

He doesn’t want you to speak with them.

He doesn’t want you to think of them.

You are his now.

Because something in his mind burned the world down and left you standing in the wreckage, and he needs something to hold onto. Not just anything. Not just anyone. You.

You try again.

Whispers, again.

“I have to talk to them-”

He shakes his head. Once. Sharp. Final.

“No,” he growls. Not language. Not word. Just a sound scraped from somewhere too deep and too far gone.

You flinch and he feels it.

His grip grows stiff.

Your body goes still.

He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he doesn’t let you go.

You catch the glint of Steve’s shield out of the corner of your eye.

They haven’t moved in minutes.

They’re waiting.

They’re watching.

They don’t want to hurt him either. But they will if they have to.

“Don’t,” you murmur. “Don’t come closer. Don’t- don’t try to talk to me, he- he doesn’t want that.”

You hear Sam lower his weapon, just a hair. “We can’t leave you like this.”

You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to pull Bucky into your arms and shake him until something clicks and he remembers you. Remembers himself.

But the Winter Soldier only seems to be remembering his duty. Violence shaped into protection.

And right now, that protection looks like isolation.

You. Alone. Tucked behind crates and corners and silence and his broad shoulders.

You speak anyway. Because you have to. Because he’s in there somewhere. Because he might not hear the others, but maybe he can still hear you.

“Bucky,” you speak. Swallow. “They’re not the enemy.”

His hand twitches on your arm.

“They’re your friends.”

He tightens his grip.

“They’re my friends.”

He releases another deep and gravelly sound.

His body is tense, electric, fury held in the cage of his bones.

“Please,” you say. You hate the sound of your own voice now. You sound like you are shattering in slow motion. “You don’t have to protect me from them. You don’t- I’m not-”

You breathe out shakily.

Your lip trembles. Your eyes sting.

Because he’s looking at you as if he would kill the whole world to keep you safe. And he doesn’t even remember who you are.

You press your forehead to his chest. His body doesn’t move.

He’s breathing faster now. His pulse thrums under your cheek.

But he lets you stay there.

That has to be something.

Behind Bucky, someone whispers your name. Carefully. Cautiously. As though if they say it wrong you’ll be ripped out of this moment and Bucky will hunt them all down.

You lift your head.

Bucky sees it.

Sees the way your eyes pull toward Sam’s voice.

Sees the way you’re still trying to hold onto them. Still reaching.

He doesn’t like that.

He hates that.

His hand finds the back of your neck. He pulls you into him, hides your face in his chest. Your shoulders lock. His body shields you like a fortress of flesh and metal and confusion. As if your gaze is a window, and he is closing the shutters.

You are not theirs anymore.

And he will not let you be.

[sunskisser]

bucky barnes who doesn’t trust unless it comes to you. whose eyes soften at the sight of you, because his heart knows that it’s okay to let his guard down. he believed the world always had its claws out to get him, until he fell straight into your gentle arms. he tells you the word love meant nothing to him until you came along.

bucky barnes who would live for you. the winter soldier would kill for anyone, the white wolf would die for anyone, but bucky would live for you. he’s never believed in fate, but if it wasn't destiny that brought you to him, he doesn’t know what it was. he thinks maybe it was all worth it, the trauma and the scars and the pain, if it all lead up to the moment when you told him i love you.

bucky barnes who searches for you even in nightmares, screams your name till his lungs burn with self-hatred. you’re his safe space, his home. he’s drawn back to wakefulness as soon as he feels your touch, the gentleness of your breath on his skin like an aching balm to his wounds. he’ll never stop apologising for the burden that comes with his affection, yet he won’t ever stop loving you.

bucky barnes who thinks of hurting you as no less than a sin. who believes even pulling out a single strand of your hair is a hundred times worse than every murder committed as the winter soldier. because what’s a few dozen people in comparison to his whole universe?

bucky barnes who wakes up a little earlier in the morning; not to see the sun rise, but to watch the soft rays dapple your face. he thinks you look angelic, the golden hue painting you in so much beauty that he feels blessed; wonders if he ought to start praying to gods he never once believed in.

bucky barnes who tells you he loves you more times than he can count. whose voice is hardened from years of tortured, ragged cries; but the word doll tumbles out of his lips like soft petals when he looks at you. he knows seven different tongues, and is fluent in every single one. he claims that none of them have the words to describe how you make him feel.

bucky barnes who kisses like a hungry dog, like there’s an ache in his soul that can only be filled by the feeling of your lips on his, skin to skin. he believes the sole purpose of his metal arm is to pin you to the wall. roughness is the only form of love he’s ever known.

bucky barnes who buys you everything you talk about in passing, who takes you out wherever your heart yearns to go, who kisses your knuckles with the softest touch of his lips. he inhales when you exhale at night to make space for the rise of your chest. he only ever holds your hand with his non-metal one so as to not hurt you. he traces your features while you sleep. he loves you with the full force of the word, because you’re his girl.

bucky barnes who could never unlove you, would never want to. even if the strings of his soul were tied to another, he would cut them off and run straight to you.

[tuiccim]

We're Gonna Burn

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen, Non/DubCon (because sex pollen), enemies to lovers.

Summary: When an exposure to a strange powder makes you feel as if you're burning to death, your only relief is in the person you hate the most.

A/N: Special thanks to my beta reader @whisperlullaby

We're Gonna Burn Masterlist

“What the hell was that, Barnes?” You practically yell as you push open the front door of the safe house you’d been directed to. 

“I don’t know! I’ve never seen anything like it. God, the smell!” He shakes his head.

“It’s burned into my nostrils. All I can smell is that sweet flower smell. You’ve never seen that pink powder?” You throw your things to the floor, looking around the small, remote house. 

“No, I’d tell you if I did, damnit! Why do you keep asking?” Bucky growls. 

“You’re not the most forthcoming person! Shit, I think you’ve spoken more in the last two minutes than in the three months I’ve known you! Jesus, fuck, I’ve gotta get rid of this smell. I’m so fucking hot,” your voice gets smaller as you speak. You can’t think straight but head towards the bathroom, unzipping your tac suit and pulling it from your arms as you go. You slam the door and lock it. You turn the cold water on full blast and nearly fall over in your haste to get your suit off. The frigid spray helps for a few moments and you revel in it, but soon another type of heat begins to take over. Your clit throbs and when you place your hand between your legs, your wetness coats your fingers. The shower stops bringing relief and instead, the water coursing down your body seems to only make you hornier. You give in to the need that takes hold and circle your clit. It feels amazing and it takes only a couple of minutes for your orgasm to break over you. You  bite your lip to hold in the moans, not wanting the asshat on the other side of the door to hear you. 

Your body has a moment of relief but then the heat builds again, even quicker this time. You dip your fingers inside of you in a desperate attempt to stop it. The second orgasm you managed to pull did little to help your body and your fingers keep working furiously to bring another in hope of relief. Your moans are spilling from your lips without a care now. You just need to get this to stop. You’re disturbed when the door rattles and a fist bangs loudly. 

“Open the door! I need to get in there,” Bucky bellows. 

You wanted to scream at him to go away but you could barely form words. You hated the stupid supersoldier from the moment you met him. He questioned your every turn. Whether it was about your skill, experience, or motives. He never lets you get through a single conversation without making you feel like a lesser part of the team. 

“Goddamnit, let me in!” He yells more loudly. 

Nothing your hand was doing was helping any longer. You couldn’t think straight and, before you can make a move or form a thought, the door splinters open from a kick. A very naked Bucky comes through the door and your eyes widen as you see his cock standing at attention. He steps into the spray of the cold shower and growls. His hand works his cock furiously while his other rests on the tiles. His head falls forward as he lets the cold water fall down his back. You stand behind him, your hand still between your legs. 

“Fuck, what’s happening to us?” you whimper as you lean your feverish forehead onto his back. The cool water does nothing to help but where your skin touches his tingles with relief. Abandoning all pride, you press your entire body to his and the fever seems to cool wherever you touch but your clit throbs even harder. Your cunt weeps, begging for attention.You rub yourself against him, your nipples pebbling at the contact with his back. 

With a growl, Bucky turns around and you quickly back up to press your back against the wall of the shower. He stares at you, breathing hard. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble in your haze, “I don’t know what’s happening. I’m so hot and-” 

You gasp as Bucky bends down, grabs your legs, and drags you up the tiles. You squeal and reach for any handhold as he puts your legs over his shoulders and attacks your clit with his tongue. 

“Oh, fuck!” You scream as one hand lands on the ceiling to help you balance and the other buries in his hair. His tongue swirls over your clit expertly. His hands squeeze your ass as he gorges himself on you. It doesn’t take long for you to buck your hips as you come all over his face. As he sets you down, you squeeze your thighs together but your body simply screams that it wants more. You stare at each other, breathing heavily. “It’s not working. Nothing helps,” you whimper, tears forming. It’s obvious by watching him that this is affecting him almost as much as you. His supersoldier serum must be helping him but he was burning just the same. 

Bucky sighs as he steps closer to you. He presses his forehead to yours with his eyes closed and whispers, “I think there’s only one thing that’s going to help.”

You put your arms around his neck, “Just do it!” You wrap a leg around his to encourage him and he lifts you up. He presses your back into the wall as he lines himself up with your entrance. He paused there for a second as if he was fighting himself. “Please, Barnes, please! I need it!” You can’t believe you’re begging the man you hate to fuck you but your body was demanding it and if he didn’t you were sure you would burn to death. If you had been thinking straight, you would probably prefer to burn but, at this moment, you wanted nothing more than to be filled. 

“Goddamnit,” he whispers as he presses in. Your body bows with pleasure. 

“Yes! Yes!” Your voice reverberates off the tile walls as you shout with relief. He begins to pump and your body trembles with each motion of his cock. He grabs your ass as he pounds into you and you know he’s as lost in the meeting of your bodies as you are. Your cunt flutters around him, pulling him in, begging for him to come inside of you. Your rational mind has gone completely silent and you are filled with only carnal lust. Every motion of his hips takes you higher and it’s all you want. “Don’t stop,” you grip his shoulders harder. 

“Fuck,” Bucky grunts. He couldn’t stop if he wanted to and, truth was, this was the best thing he’d felt in a long time.

“Oh, God, oh, God, I’m- yes!” You release a long, high-pitched moan as you come. Your pussy grips his cock as his hips stutter. He comes with a long moan that makes you clench around him more firmly. You stay there for a few moments, catching your breath, and blessedly your body finally starts to cool. You release your legs from around his waist and he gently sets you down. You can’t look at him and instead maneuver yourself back under the cold spray. You rinse off quickly and step out of the shower. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you exit the bathroom to find your pack and some clothes. While you rifle through your pack, you feel your temperature creeping up again and then you double over from the intense wave that rolls over you. “No, no, not again,” you whisper to yourself. You look over to the broken bathroom door where Bucky still is and consider your options. Sex had given you the relief you needed but it was short lived. Your mind runs amuck with questions. What the hell was that powder? What was it doing to you? How long would this last? How many times would it take to stop this heat from trying to burn you alive? Was sex really the only relief you would find? Another pang hit and knocked the breath from your body. You were gasping in pain when an arm picked you up around your middle. 

He was still wet from the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry off. The pains had hit him and he went to the only place he knew he could find relief. He carried you to the small bed in the house and set you down on your hands and knees. He grips your hips tightly and pauses for a moment as another rush of heat spreads over him, “I need-”

“Just do it,” your words come out in a rush, pressing back into him. 

He enters you without preamble. Pulling you back to meet each motion of his hips, his moans give evidence of the pleasure and relief that the connection brings. You reach under you to play with your clit, trying to bring your orgasm on more quickly. Each of Bucky’s swift thrusts has you crying out with pleasure and he moves your hand away to bring you to orgasm himself. He wanted to feel you clench around him as you had before. 

“Oh, fuck, just like that,” you whine, “Just like that, don’t- don’t stop, oh, fuck.”

Bucky moans as he feels your cunt flutter around his cock with your orgasm. The sounds you release are a hit straight to his cock and he comes hard, thrusting with each spurt into you. Breathing heavily, you both collapse on the bed. You lay on your side facing away from him while taking stock of your body. The relief you felt with your orgasm was short lived as heat began to build again after only a few minutes. 

You feel like crying as your body radiates waves of heat. You turn over to face Bucky. He is lying on his back, his metal arm slung over his eyes, and his right hand fisting his hard cock. You make your decision quickly. Pulling his hand away, you straddle him and guide his cock inside of you. You move your hips slowly, hoping that perhaps if you stretched out the sex, it would keep the pain at bay longer. His hands grip your thighs as you rock slowly, his head is thrown back with eyes tightly closed. You looked at him for a moment and still couldn't believe that of all the teammates this could happen with, it had to be this asshole. When you first met him, you thought he was hot as fuck but as his personality (or lack there of) reared it’s ugly head you found him less and less attractive. Your anger at the situation grew as you rode him and you found yourself leaning forward, chasing your orgasm to just get this over with. 

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky bucks up into you, causing you to cry out. He repeats the motion over and over again until your body spasms around him. He comes with a grunt as he watches your face contort with pleasure. You collapse on his chest without looking at him. You wondered if keeping your bodies connected would keep the heat from returning. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks softly. 

You sigh weakly as you felt the now familiar warmth beginning to spread, “I was hoping…” You let out a frustrated grunt, “I was hoping if we stayed touching it would be enough. But it’s starting again.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Bucky acknowledges his own heat building. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“You don’t know that. You can’t know that,” you grouse.

“I think… I think this might be a pheromone or something Hydra created to force procreation. I heard of the experiments but they abandoned it when it didn’t produce the results they wanted.”

“Which was?” You ask as your hips make slow circles. You can feel his cock quickly hardening inside of you. 

“Naturally born supersoldiers,” Bucky strains out the words. 

“So, we’re gonna have sex until we die or what?”

“Usually wore off in a few hours but until then…” he trails off as he gots lost in the sensations. 

“Fuck,” you groan, partially out of frustration, partially from the pleasure his thick cock was producing. 

“Basically,” Bucky says and you surprise yourself by laughing at the droll comment. You are even more surprised a second later when Bucky rolls you under him. He buries his face in your neck as he pulls your leg up higher and thrusts. You throw your head back as the pleasure begins to build again. 

“Harder,” you whimper. 

Bucky complies immediately and you whimper with each stroke. Grabbing onto him, you get lost in the feeling of his cock pounding into you sharply. You were glad that he at least was decent at this. Or was it that whatever the damn contaminant was made everything feel amazing? You were getting close with the steady way he fucked you and words started to pour out of your mouth. You were usually quite vocal in bed but hadn’t wanted to give Bucky the satisfaction. Now, you couldn’t stop yourself. 

“Oh, god, it’s so good. Don’t stop, right there. It’s so fucking good. Oh, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna- fuck!” You let out a loud moan as you come hard and Bucky’s hips work even faster as he nears his own end. When he comes on a broken cry, your body revels in the feeling of him emptying himself in you.

The rational side of your brain sounded far away but was still screaming at the situation. In a moment of it managing to take hold, you push Bucky off of you and roll away from him. Breathing heavily, you pray that this is over. Surely, this was enough to satisfy anything. You will yourself to stay cool, to not allow the heat to return, to hold onto any shred of sanity you can find, but despite it all, the heat built again. You felt like screaming but you knew that nothing you did would help. You turn back to Bucky and say frustratedly, “Ready for another round?” You can’t meet his eyes but you knew neither of you could handle the pain and heat. You needed each other. 

Bucky turns to you, “Hey.” He waits, wanting you to look him in the eyes but you just stare at his chest. “Hey.”

“What?” You say waspishly, still refusing to meet his gaze.

“Never mind,” he says as he grabs you and pulls your back against his chest. His cock nudges you from behind and you maneuver your hips to allow him entry. His thrusts are quick and sharp but his fingers on your clit are pure magic. He’s learned your body quickly but instead of leading you straight to orgasm this time, he works you to the precipice and then backs off repeatedly. You understood what he was trying to do. He was trying to prolong the sex in hopes of not having to come inside you any more than he already had but it was as if your body only got angrier with each denial. 

“It’s not working! Just let me come!” You finally cry out, your frustration having reached its breaking point.

“Say it,” Bucky growls.

You wrack your muddled brain trying to grasp what he wants and latch on to the only word you can find, “Please!”

“No, say my name.”

You would normally reel angrily at a command from him but the effects this powder had on you makes you compliant from need. You stutter as your tongue tries to cooperate, “B- Barnes.”

“No,” he says darkly, “Say it.”

“Bucky,” you grind the word out through your teeth. You had never once called him that. It had always been some variant of his last name. You felt even more vulnerable now.

Bucky doesn’t utter a word but he moves his hips faster and his fingers do their job. When you finally come, your whole body spasms and you scream. The sound was foreign to your ears but the orgasm just kept going. You fluttered around Bucky’s cock, milking him of cum. You stay in that position for the next two rounds of sex. Then you got on top again to give Bucky a break but this time you faced away from him. You couldn’t look at him. When you had rode him to two orgasms and yourself to utter exhaustion, he turned you on your stomach to fuck you again. You lost count of the number of times you had sex. More orgasms than you’d ever had in your life were accomplished and you didn’t have any clue how many times he came. You fucked until you both passed out. 

Waking up fourteen hours later, you felt as if you had the worst hangover you’d ever experienced. You glance at the spot Bucky had been in but he was gone. On the table by the bed was a couple of bottles of water, a protein bar, and a bottle of pain reliever. You raised your eyebrow at the items but just shrugged as you tore into all of them. You notice your pack is by the bed and you get up to put clothes on. The first thing you notice is the soreness between your legs but really your whole body hurts. You listen for a moment but don’t hear anything in the house. Peeking out the door, you see the empty living room and slip into the bathroom. You shower quickly, trying not to remember what happened in the small space just yesterday. 

You jump when a knock sounds while you are dressing. You call out, “Yes?”

“Exfil will be here in five minutes,” Bucky says through the broken door. 

“I’ll be right out,” you say. Your stomach is in knots. You can’t imagine facing him after everything. Would he act like nothing happened or gloat like the asshole he is? You wonder if you will ever be able to look him in the face again. You look at yourself, surprised that you still look the same as you did yesterday because you know you’ll never be the same again. But you didn’t have time to dwell on that. Now, you had a jet to catch.

Part 2

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series will be made on Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[parkers-gal]

make-believe girlfriend J.B.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader, a smidge of grumpy x sunshine

wc: 3.1k

warnings: use of nickname 'peaches.' long distance relationship

summary: after a three month long mission, bucky returns and he has a girlfriend. the team doesn't believe she exists

a/n: i loooooveeee this i hope u do too ! <3

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

it was supposed to be a simple mission followed by a month long sabbatical. three months steve told bucky in between sets in the training room. two months to finish the mission, one month to just… explore. you need to get out, discover, to just- i don’t know… do something else besides be a soldier.

bucky had laughed at first. “coming from you? the world’s best soldier? that’s rich.”

“i know i’m not one to talk. but i care about you, buck. wakanda was good for you, i just want you to be at peace again.”

bucky hummed. “i’ll think about it.”

steve nodded, then after a beat, added “if not for you, do it for me.”

that was two weeks ago. now, bucky can’t even believe he’s packing his bags and loading onto the quinjet. alone. for the first time in almost 70 years, he’s afraid of something. of what, he doesn’t know. that’s what’s so nerve wracking about the entire ordeal – with hydra, he’d always known who to fear, who to submit to. when he was fighting on the field, there was always a bad guy, an alien, a man with a scepter. but this was out of his experience. 

footsteps sound behind him. dropping his duffel bag by his backpack, bucky turns around calmly, trying to read steve’s face.

“you can call every once in awhile… if you want to. or just- you know. don’t forget your check ins.”

bucky nods. “it’s just a couple months, steve. i’ll be fine.”

he laughs a little. “i know. i don’t want you to think i’m pushing you to get out.”

“i know you’re not.” a hesitant smile spreads on his face. steve can see right through it, but he doesn’t comment, merely offering a hug. he pats bucky on the back as they always do, and once again, bucky is alone on the quinjet. 

it was scary at first. chicago is so different from his little corner in brooklyn, safe in a bubble of familiarity. his apartment came pre-furnished, and felt more home-like than his bare apartment in new york. it was easy to play along, to act like he was playing a part on a mission.

but then he met you.

the walls of his facade started to crumble, and he found himself seeping into the soft sheets of his bed instead of a thin blanket on the hardwood floor. it became harder and harder for him to convince himself that he was faking the enjoyment of this trip.

you worked at the cafe nearby his apartment. his neighbor came home one day as bucky was leaving, and the smell of her coffee coupled with the croissant in her other hand was enough encouragement he needed to try out the restaurant. 

the bell at the front alerted you of a new customer. you smiled while frothing some milk for an order, “i’ll be right with you!” you chirped sweetly. 

the way you moved behind the counter had bucky in a trance the first time he laid eyes on you. the atmosphere around you was bubbling; it was as if bucky had walked right into a room of sunshine, and you were the star, beautiful and gentle and sweet. he wanted more.

dusting your hands on your apron, you stepped towards the register. “what can i get for you?”

a pause. worry was etched on bucky’s face.

“have you been here before?”

he shook his head. “i don’t know what to get, i’m sorry.”

you smiled again, soft and reassuring. it melted his insides. “that’s okay. would you like any suggestions?”

he finally grew the courage to look at your eyes. his mouth went a little dry, lips parted in shock. you were just so beautiful. he couldn’t describe it. “yeah.”

another comforting smile spread across your face and it soothed him immediately.

“i think our latte macchiato is one our yummiest drinks. i usually get the peach cobbler croissant. it’s amazing when it’s warm and gooey.”

“peach cobbler croissant?”

you nodded, “house original. don’t knock it ‘till you try it,” another smile. 

this time, he smiled back. “okay, i’ll have those, then.”

“great!” you finished registering his order before moving back towards the various coffee machines, lightly singing along to the music playing. a few more people trickle in and out, and bucky takes his time admiring the quaint cafe. 

“hey,” you lightly call. “i never got a name for that order.” you hold a cup of coffee in one hand, a sharpie in the other. 

bucky steps closer to the counter, a sudden surge of confidence rippling through him like it used to back in the 30s. “can i give you a number for it too?”

your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. with a shy nod, you place his cup on the counter and take out a notepad from your apron. he recites his phone number and, with a grateful smile, leaves the shop. his legs almost give out as soon as he steps outside. he’s never been so nervous around a girl before. 

he finished his mission two weeks earlier than planned. that gave him a month and a half to do whatever he wanted in the city. what he really wanted was you. every morning, he’d try a new drink and whatever breakfast special you had that day. and every day, at the end of your shift, bucky would walk you home. or sometimes, you’d walk to the park and sit on the bench and just talk. 

by the second week of this, bucky asked you out on that bench. 

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

stepping into bucky’s apartment, you place your keys in the bowl by the front door, and drop your apron next to your shoes. bucky lounges on the couch, a book in his lap and the tv on low.

“peaches?” he closes his book. “why didn’t you call me? i would’ve come to get you.”

you hum, sliding onto the couch beside him. “didn’t wanna bother you.”

he tsks at you before kissing your forehead, pulling you into his side. “how was work?”

you shrug. “i saw the cutest dog. i gave her some whipped cream and it was so cute.”

he smiles, squeezing you close. “wanna watch tv and order in?”

you nod, shuffling to grab the remote and putting your feet in his lap. “wanna watch gilmore girls?”

he massages your sock-clad feet and hums in approval at your question. 

it’s odd how quickly he let go of his life at home. something about you made him want to be everything he thought he could be before the war, before hydra, before everything. he does miss home – new york city, the avengers compound, his clanky washing machine, steve and yes, even sam. but the longer he spends here, the more his home starts to feel like you. 

“i think i love you.” the words slip out before he can register them, and his hands freeze in the middle of massaging you. you turn your head slowly, eyes softening upon hearing his words. “i’m sorry, it’s way too soon to say that i don’t even know why i-”

“i love you too.” you cut in. “i think i’m falling in love with you, bucky barnes.”

his eyes well up and he tugs you closer. “really?”

you nod, a grin breaking out on your face. “really.”

seeing your smile makes him start to smile too. “i’m falling in love with you, too.”

when he kisses you, it’s tender and caring, and his hand cups your face gently. he tastes faintly of apricot jam, and you sigh into the kiss, tugging him closer. “i don’t want you to go.”

he rests his forehead against yours, frowning. “aww, peaches.” bucky places a feather-light kiss to your cheek. “i’ll miss you so much.” 

you nod in acknowledgement. “don’t know what i’m gonna do without you here.”

“i’ll visit as much as i can, honey.”

you huff, sniffing just below his jaw, inhaling his scent. “i know,” you pout. “but i really love being around you.”

bucky can’t help his smile from forming. you’re just so cute, missing him already when he hasn’t even left yet. 

“good thing i have two weeks left to spend as much time with my girl as possible.”

his fingers slip down to your waist, pressing into your sides. laughter bubbles from your throat as you try to pry him off you. bucky chuckles at you, the adorable giggles spewing from your mouth are enough to make him kiss you again. 

“you’re so pretty, peaches.”

you huff, out of breath from the tickling. “yeah?” it’s your turn. “you think so?”

“what are you doing…”

“…nothing…”

“peach- hey!” 

you attack his freakishly hard abdomen, squeezing the muscles with all your might until bucky pulls you up and plops you into his lap, laying back on the couch. satisfied, you rest your hands against his chest. 

“i wonder what stevie’ll think of you.”

your brow quirks. “you mean… captain america?”

bucky laughs, “that’s not his real name.”

you slap his chest lightly. “i know that, silly.”

“don’t know how i got so lucky.” his eyes twinkle at you.

lacing your fingers with his, you give his hand a squeeze. “me too.”

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

bucky skillfully lands the quinjet on the helicopter pad at the compound. after showing you all the cool gadgets on the plane, bucky was reluctant to leave your side, but you kissed him and promised to facetime as soon as he was settled in, and bucky couldn’t say no to that, so he kissed you goodbye and waved as he took off, never having been so sad to return to his home in new york.

strolling into the compound, his backpack dangles from his right shoulder as he holds his duffel bag in his metal hand. he makes his way to his room, passing wanda and vision in the kitchen who say ‘hello’ while making some sokovian dish. 

while he unpacks, steve knocks on his door despite bucky leaving it open. 

“hey, buck. how was it?”

closing his dresser drawer, bucky shifts towards steve who steps into the room. 

“it was good. i think… you were right. i really needed that.”

“that’s awesome, man. i’m really happy for you. maybe we can talk about it tonight, have some beers and just catch up?”

bucky nods, already grinning to himself when he thinks about telling steve about you.

he showers, facetimes you for a good hour, before friday alerts him that dinner is ready. he finishes his call with you and heads towards the kitchen, finding sam and steve spread on a table with food. natasha and wanda have taken their plates to the tv, opting to watch a new episode of some show. peter and tony are too caught up in some math problem to leave the couch.

“what’s up, terminator?”

squinting at him, bucky grabs a beer and pops it open with his metal arm, taking a seat beside steve at the round table. “so,” steve talks in between mouthfuls of food. “tell us about the trip.”

taking a gulp of beer, bucky bites the inside of his cheek. “i… met a girl.”

silence overtakes the three of them. 

“what?”

“really?”

bucky nods, a blush already heating up his face. 

“so… are you dating?” steve put his fork down to really look at bucky, still shocked at the sudden news. his friend nods in response. 

“wow.” sam leans back in his chair. “i don’t believe it.”

“what?” it’s bucky’s turn to be shocked, eyebrows furrowing at sam’s confession. “what do you mean you don’t believe it?”

“you go on a three month long trip and suddenly you have a girlfriend for the first time in 70 years? no way.”

“sam, be nice.”

“i am being nice.” he loads up his fork for another bite. “i’m just saying i’ll believe it when i meet her.”

“well, she lives in chicago, bird-brain.”

“who lives in chicago?” natasha suddenly appears in front of them, an empty glass in her hand, presumably here to refill it. 

“bucky’s girlfriend.”

“sam!” steve slaps his shoulder

natasha’s mouth drops open. “you got a girlfriend?!”

bucky’s mouth forms into a disapproving line. “yeah, and sam doesn’t believe she exists.”

she laughs at this, beckoning over wanda and tony.

bucky wants to hide in his room at the sudden amount of people staring at him. 

“i’m with sam on this one.”

“really tony?” steve’s tone is teasing but he can’t help but feel bad for bucky. “you too?”

“i’ll believe it when i see it.”

“whatever.” bucky mumbles, his plate empty and beer gone. “you guys don’t have to believe me.”

“okay, buddy.” sam laughs. “good luck keeping up the act.”

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

it’s been five months since bucky was first in chicago, and the team is nowhere near closer to believing in his relationship with you. they’ve walked in on him on the phone, smiling down at his text messages, him on call with you, even him calling a local flower shop in chicago to send you flowers. still, only steve believes you exist, but even he is starting to grow wary. somehow, bucky hasn’t shown any photographs of you, no letters, not even a video call to prove your existence. 

“i don’t know what else to do, peaches.” bucky pouts into the phone. on the other end, you laugh softly.

“they still don’t believe you?”

“sam thought i was texting myself today. myself! i told him i don’t even know how to do that! when i tried to show him photo of you, he said it doesn’t count unless i’m in the photo with you. then he said something about shop photo.”

“... do you mean photoshop?”

“yes! that!”

you giggle at him again. 

“this isn’t funny, peaches.”

“sounds awfully funny to me.” you can’t help but tease him. “why can’t you just put them on the phone?”

“they think i’m just gonna hire someone to pretend to be my girlfriend.” 

you don’t respond for a second, merely humming. “i’m sure we’ll think of something.”

the conversation changes and after a few minutes, clint comes by to get bucky for training. 

“hey, you’re late for training. steve is already downstairs waiting.”

“oh crap,” he pulls his phone closer to his ear. “i’m sorry, peaches. i gotta go. i love you.”

he hangs up after a moment and then moves to grab his gym bag.

“that your pretend girlfriend?” clint points to the phone.

bucky rolls his eyes. “not you, too.”

he raises his arms in defense. “sam has a good point.”

the two of them walk down the hall. “i don’t think he makes a good point.” he grumbles. clint laughs at him, entering the gym where nat and steve are sparring. 

“he’s here.” sam calls out, alerting steve. “what were you doing? calling your fake girlfriend?”

“she’s not fake.” 

“your make-believe girlfriend.”

“alright, sam,” steve interjects. “let’s just get started.”

by the time training ends, bucky just wants to cuddle on the couch with you and fall asleep. but you’re not here, and you haven’t texted him back since your phone call earlier. so, he’s stuck lounging on the couch, freshly showered, watching movies with the rest of the team for some “bonding” that steve insisted on. 

“why wouldn’t they just exchange numbers if they clearly like each other?”

“because,” wanda turns to bruce. “she wants fate to bring them together.”

“fate is not a five dollar bill. fate already brought them together! they’re just denying it.”

before anyone else responds, friday alerts them of someone’s arrival. 

“friday, who is it?” tony calls out. 

“she is not in the stark catalog or the shield workforce database, sir.” she responds.

“how did she get in here, then?”

“miss potts approved of her.”

they all exchange glances until the elevator doors slide open and in it, you with your overnight bag. 

stepping towards the group, you shyly call out. “bucky?”

he whips his head around, standing immediately. “peaches?”

a smile blooms across your face, dropping your bags to engulf him in a hug. he’s never hugged anyone so hard. 

“what are you doing here?” he kisses the top of your head. 

“i wanted to surprise you.” you speak quietly so only he can hear. “and i wanted to prove my existence” you giggle.

“who the fuck is that?”

“language.”

sam looks annoyingly at steve before focusing back on you two.

“sam…” natasha looks disappointed for him. “i think that’s bucky’s girlfriend.”

his jaw drops. “no way.” he scoffs. “no way she actually exists.”

“yeah, what?” tony looks around in shock. “and she just waltzes in here??”

you chuckle at the group of supers. “i thought you said they were smart.” 

bucky laughs at your comment. “sometimes they are.” 

“so you’re actually his girlfriend?” wanda studies you. “how did you meet?”

“bucky came to the cafe i work at.” you smile fondly at the memory. “we make the best peach cobbler croissants. i brought the recipe for you all to try.”

a few ears perk up at this. 

“what’s bucky’s middle name?” sam quizzes. “if you’re really his girlfriend.”

bucky wants to slap his forehead.

“uhm… pretty sure bucky is his middle name.” you laugh out. 

“oh.”

“that was a stupid question, sam.”

“i forgot!” he waves his hands around to dismiss what just happened. “what’s my middle name??”

“aren’t you supposed to be quizzing her about bucky?”

“not the point, peter.”

“you shouldn’t even be quizzing her.” bucky wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. “everyone, this is y/n. my girlfriend. my real girlfriend.” 

the sight of affection from bucky causes a silence to settle over the group, as if that was the definitive determining factor in this whole ordeal. 

“y/n, this is the team.” 

you smile, waving at them. 

“that’s steve.”

bucky points him out and steve immediately stands up, offering a hand. “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

you smile in response, the same soft one that had bucky falling for you in the first place.

“he’s the only one who actually believes you exist.” bucky whispers lowly into your ear, and the feel of his facial hair tickles you. “maybe we can all hang out later.” bucky announces, pulling you along towards the hallway to his room. 

he shuts the door behind you, pulling you into his arms. “i can’t believe you’re here.”

you tug at his henley, dog tags clinking as you pull him closer, wanting to kiss him after being void of it for so long. “kiss me already, barnes.”

and kiss you, he does. 

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

bucky masterlist

[appocalipse]

hi amyyyy!! i just saw that your requests are open and i got sooo excited 🤭🤭 so if you're up for it i have a bucky request where maybe r is a little shy, sweet person and has been secretly pining after him ever since they both started living in the avengers compound, so she decides to cook dinner for him one night just to do something nice for him?? just a little fluff for our sad beautiful tragic super soldier

our man does deserve some loving 😭 thank you for your request, lovely! | 1.4k words

"What the hell are you doing to that poor tomato?"

You whirl around from the kitchen counter, heart leaping into your throat at the unexpected sound of Bucky's voice behind you. He's standing there with an arched eyebrow, broad shoulders barely fitting through the entryway to the kitchen in the Avengers Compound, dark hair damp and wavy from a recent shower. His metal arm gleams under the bright lights as he reaches up to push his hair back from his face. Oh, man.

You shoot him a stern look, heartbeat returning to normal, and raise your tomato-covered knife in mock threat. "Don't sneak up on me like that," you warn. "I could've cut myself."

"I didn't exactly sneak," Bucky protests. "The floor squeaks like crazy in here."

"But you move like a cat...maybe I should put a bell on you."

He grins at that, the flash of teeth so unexpected that it leaves you blinking for a moment, mesmerized by the way it lights up his whole face in a gentle way completely at odds with his hard-edged features. "You think you could put a bell on me?"

He probably didn't mean to make that sound as flirtatious as it came out, you decide. The man can't help it if he's naturally devastating.

"I could, you know," you maintain, recovering your equilibrium with effort. You're generally hopelessly enamored with Bucky Barnes, but you do have some self-respect and you intend to keep it that way. "If I wanted to. But right now, I'm fighting with this poor, defenseless tomato."

He takes this as an invitation (which it absolutely wasn't; your limbs seem to lose their ability to function when he gets too close to you, you've noticed) and strides over to peer at the cutting board like you're conducting a vitally important experiment. "Looks like it's losing," he comments. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Uh...no. No, I—actually, I was making something for you, but now I think you don't deserve it."

You take a step back from him and his broad shoulders before your brain can melt into a useless puddle.

He glances at you like you've grown a second head. "For me?"

"Yeah, I thought—well, I like cooking. And Steve told me that you used to really like his mom's spaghetti when you were kids, so I thought—what? What's that look for?"

Bucky's still staring at you like he's never seen you before. His eyes are very blue and very disarming. "I just didn't know you liked to cook."

"You, uh, you don't have to eat it or anything if—if you don't want to," you manage, unsure how to respond to this odd reaction other than with a dash of humor, which you tend to default to in awkward situations. "I won't be offended."

"I'm not saying I don't want it." He sounds genuinely taken aback. "Of course I want it, who wouldn't want it? I just...I didn't know you cared about what I liked."

You consider pointing out that you do, in fact, care very much about what he likes, given that you've been pining for him in your quiet, hopeless way ever since he joined the Avengers team and made every brain cell you own spontaneously combust...but that would beat the point of your silly, juvenile crush remaining a secret. "Well, there's lots of things you don't know about me," you joke instead.

"I'd like to know more," he says.

It sounds surprisingly earnest. You're not sure what to do with that.

"You're only saying that because I'm making you food," you tease, defaulting to the safety of flippancy yet again. If Bucky knew how thoroughly and embarrassingly you've lost your heart to him, things would get really awkward, really fast, and you'd be forced to quit your job and move to a cabin in the Alaskan wilderness to live in lonely solitude.

Bucky gives you a small (and, of course, unfairly disarming) smile and leans his hip against the counter, hands tucked in his pockets as he regards you from underneath a sweep of dark hair. "I'm serious."

Your nerves feel like they're vibrating. "I'm really not that interesting," you insist, quickly putting the chopped tomatoes into a pot on the stovetop. You've already got onions and garlic sauteing, adding to the scent of warm tomato paste that's slowly coming together. "You'd get bored of me really fast if we hung out."

"I doubt that."

Is it your imagination or is there a slightly suggestive undertone to his words? "Bucky—"

He shakes his head, as though to cut you off. "How can I help?"

You look at him blankly. He seems very tall, standing this close to you, and warm, and solid, and his eyes are bluer than the sky outside, and the smell of him—a clean, masculine scent with a hint of cedarwood—is making your thoughts get jumbled up and skip tracks.

"Do you want me to stir the sauce or something?" he asks patiently, not looking like he minds standing here staring at you while you drool over him. Maybe he's having fun, you think, under all that quiet solemnity.

You find your tongue. "Yes. I mean no, no, that's okay. You can sit down and relax."

"I don't really do relaxing."

"Everyone should do relaxing."

Bucky gives a small huff of amusement, something close to a laugh. You catch yourself before you can stare at him in gooey-eyed adoration and focus on stirring the sauce, which is just beginning to bubble in the pot, releasing a rich scent into the air.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be—to make you uncomfortable," Bucky says abruptly. "I'm not good at...small talk. Or conversation in general. It's been a while."

"Since you've talked to someone?"

"No, since I've tried to hit on someone."

Your eyes widen. Bucky seems amused at your reaction, although his expression is back to its usual quiet, watchful look, with only the tiniest glint of humor in his blue eyes giving him away.

You could be misreading it, though.

But you're pretty sure you're not misreading it.

"Doll, you're burning the sauce."

"Shit!"

You turn back to the stovetop and jerk the saucepan away from the burner. The bottom of the sauce is definitely sticking to the pot, charred and smelling smoky, a dramatic change from its formerly bright red, succulent state that it had been when you last checked it five minutes ago.

How long have you been standing here silently staring at the pot? "Dammit." You grab a spoon and try to scrape the charred sauce off the bottom of the pot, wincing at the scraping sound. "Dammit."

Bucky's quiet chuckle sends goosebumps over your skin. "Dammit?"

"This was supposed to be a nice gesture," you lament, looking forlornly at the ruined sauce. "I—"

He plucks the spoon from your hand with a deft twist of his metal fingers, his body so close to yours that you can feel the warmth radiating from him and smell the cedar scent of him again. "You're really adorable when you're flustered."

Your jaw drops. Bucky smiles at your expression, dipping the spoon into the pot of sauce to take a small taste, then reaching past you to add a dash of something from a bottle on the countertop.

"B-bucky, I didn't—what are you doing?"

He takes another spoonful of sauce and holds it up in front of your face, cupping his hand underneath the spoon so it doesn't drip onto the floor. "Here, taste."

"That's for you."

"Taste."

You reluctantly take a small taste, because it's spaghetti sauce and you have absolutely no willpower where Bucky Barnes is concerned. "I burned it."

"Only the bottom," he says, dropping the spoon into the sink with a clatter. When you blink at him, he lifts his shoulders in a shrug, suddenly looking almost shy. "I, uh, I've learned to cook a few things when I was in Wakanda."

"I kind of feel like my self-esteem just took a massive blow," you murmur. "I tried—what? What are you doing?"

Bucky has spun you around to face the stovetop again, standing behind you and reaching over your head to stir the sauce again. The solid warmth of his chest is pressed against your back, and you have to lock your knees so they don't give out on you. He's really, really tall. And warm. And smells amazing.

"Helping," he murmurs, ducking his head to (oh God oh God oh God) speak the word in your ear, his breath ruffling your hair.

Somehow, you feel like it's much more than that.

[espinosaurusrexex]

You try to find Bucky a date but he only has eyes for you

a/n: playful Bucky and "clueless" reader are my new fave

word count: ~800

warnings: fun fluff, teeny bit angst

･ﾟ✫* 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ｡✭･ﾟ

“Do you have any preferences for a partner?” You sat next to Bucky on the sofa in the common room, determined to find the perfect date for him upon request from Sam.

“Well, I’m very particular when it comes to my type.” Bucky clasped his hands in his lap as he eyed you opening your notes app. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of dating anyone. Well, anyone that wasn’t you to be clear. There was a reason he’d yet to ask anyone out since working here. The same reason he chose to entertain your attempt to set him up. He liked spending time with you. 

“Particular is good. More details mean I can find the perfect person for you.” You beamed at him and Bucky cursed under his breath when his heart did the somersault thing. 

Then he decided to shrug it off. “If you think so.”

Seemingly nonchalant, he watched you prepare some bullet points on your phone, itching to reach out and smack the thing from your grasp so you could hold his hand instead. 

“I am the perfect matchmaker, Bucky. You should be glad I’m helping you. The amount of feedback I’m given for my relationship expertise is unmatched.”

“Think I should check your references, doll,” Bucky smirked. “Cause you never once went on a date since I’ve been here.”

You stared at him blankly and Bucky took the opportunity to look at your lips. And just as he suspected, they looked perfectly kissable today.

“Coaches don’t play, Bucky.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, making Bucky chuckle. 

“Okay now, favorite hair color?”

“I do enjoy a nice y/h/c,” Bucky answered immediately. He knew you’d not let this go, so he might as well play into it. He knew exactly who his type was, so the questions shouldn’t be too hard. 

“Preferred height?” You typed away and Bucky stood and held up his hand to the spot he knew your head ended when you stood next to him. “Abooooout this tall.” 

You glanced at him swiftly, nodding and typing the info like a machine. Bucky chuckled again. You were so invested, he could probably say your name as his preferred one in a partner and you’d write it down without question. 

“Perfect eye color?” 

“Y/e/c.” You froze in your tracks for a second and then you proceeded to type. 

“Wait,” Bucky said, grabbing your face with his metal hand and looking into your eyes with furrowed brows. “Y/e/c with those beautiful speck in ‘em. That’s what I like...”

He watched as your pupils switched between his and Bucky wondered if you’d finally caught on. He wasn’t trying to hide it, after all. However, all he got was another moment of intimate eye contact before your jaw slightly pressed against his hand with the next question tumbling out of you.

“Preferred occupation?” There was the hint of a smile on your lips, and Bucky couldn’t have missed it. Maybe you were even wittier than he thought you to be. 

“Hmmm....” He tabbed his chin now embracing the game you’d invited him into. “I’d die for a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.” He let go of your face. “Maybe an avenger even - I think that would be perfect for me.”

Bucky turned back slightly, now watching you out of the corner of his eye, heart hammering in his chest yet again. Your fingers typed furiously on that phone of yours and his hand began to sweat. It was fun while it lasted, now he’d have to go back to serious. 

“Bucky-“ his heart dropped when you whispered his name as you watched your notes. But then you put your phone down and grabbed his hands. God, this was worse. You’d let him down easy - somehow he wanted you to be clueless again. “I think I may have the perfect candidate for you.” 

That’s when he finally found the courage to look at you again. Firstly at your hands which were gently wrapped around his and then your face, where big eyes were watching him from below. 

His chest deflated when he saw the unreadable expression in your eyes. “You don’t have to-“

Bucky didn’t get to finish his sentence because warm pillowy lips were pressed to his and catapulted him into a state of utter shock and disbelief. After a few seconds of freeze mode, your fingers squeezed his gently, as a reminder that this was truly happening. And before any more time could have gone to waste, Bucky’s arms wrapped around you with an urgency that had settled deep in his bones. Maybe you weren’t so clueless after all...

Follow my library blog for fic updates! @espinosaurusrexex-library

[spaceycat]

back in business !!

 ⋆★⋆ bucky's favourite positions ⋆★⋆

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: hey brendon by ayesha erotica (1:10)

He loves it when he finds you in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for yourself or making coffee - coming up behind you and feeling over your sides and hips. Sitting you on the counter and just eating you out, sliding your legs over his shoulders and forcing your thighs apart when you try to close them - tongue working in slow ministrations. The coffee has gone cold and forgotten.

He just loves it whenever your legs are pulled over his thighs, shoulders or pushed against his chest as he fucks his cock into you - muttering praises as he holds you up with his metal arm.

He needs you in his lap when he's working, stuffed full of his cock as he refuses to move and laughs at you as you try to seek more friction. Wrapping his metal arm around your waist to keep you put and cease your movement.

Bucky's obsessed with you on your knees just looking up at him like an angel, fingers toying with his pants zipper. Pushing his boxers and jeans placing kitten licks to his tip - half the time he's trying to convince you to let him take a picture of you like this.

Super soldier stamina means so many different positions, although he loves seeing your pretty face in missionary and can just feel you up to his hearts content. He loves placing you on your hands and knees, pushing your head into the pillows and pulling your hips into the air for him to fuck as much as he pleases.

Bucky occasionally pulls you by your hair or neck back into his lap when he's fucking your face into the sheets, loving to see your fucked out face and moans that are no longer muffled by the pillows and sheets.

[buckysleftbicep]

daddy's got a gun 𐙚 b.b

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, dub-con, choking, slapping, spitting, oral sex (m rec), overstimulation, degradation, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, bucky manhandling you, lots of filthiness (please read the warnings)

summary: you never meant to cross a man like bucky barnes, he is cold-blooded, ruthless, he always takes what he wants and no amount of fight can drown out the way you end up begging for more. based on this request!

word count: 2.2k

a/n: hi! so this fic is unhinged and its probably an excuse for me to write explicit smut. it may not be for everyone, so please read the warnings! thank you and stay safe guys!

You didn’t see his men coming.

One second, you were walking back from the corner store with your hoodie pulled up and headphones tucked in. The next, the world turned black—hands over your mouth, your limbs yanked, twisted, a sharp sting to your neck and then absolutely nothing.

Now, you're here.

Laid out like some broken thing on black silk sheets in a room too luxurious for a prison, the mattress is soft and the air smells faintly like leather and tobacco. There are no bars on the windows—just thick glass and silence.

And him.

Bucky Barnes.

The name you'd only ever heard whispered, the kind of man your mother warned you about, dangerous, merciless. The type who didn’t just ruin lives—he erased them.

The Mob King of New York, ruthless killer and collector.

And now, your captor, standing in the shadows like he owned the world, watching you with those cold, unreadable steel blue eyes, as if he already knew exactly how and when, you'd break.

You don’t get it, do you?” His voice drips from the shadows at the foot of the bed, a low, rumbling threat that coils around your spine. His sleeves are rolled to the elbow, one of his arms littered with black ink—tattoos that lick upward like fire and sin, the other cold, gleaming black and gold. They hadn’t been lying about his arm. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to.

“You belong to me now.”

Your breath catches and you flinch when he takes a step closer, the floorboards creaking under his boots. He notices, of course he does. 

It only makes him smile, slow and sharp like a predator’s grin that promises nothing but ruin.

“Fucking gorgeous when you’re scared,” Bucky murmurs, running his tongue along the seam of his teeth like he’s savouring the moment. “Don’t look away, sweetheart. You’re gonna learn what happens when you disobey.”

The room feels smaller with each second. It was warm, suffocating, cloaked in shadows that flicker from the low amber light. You back up on the mattress, limbs trembling, but it’s no use. Bucky reaches for your ankle, and with deliberate slowness, drags you toward him. The silk sheets slide beneath your skin, your oversized hoodie riding up your thighs, panties exposed to the chill and to his hungry gaze.

You writhe with reflexive panic, but that only makes him grin.

“Still got some fight in you?” he muses, tilting his head. “Good. Breaking you will be so much more fun.”

The slap comes out of nowhere, his palm cracks across your face, hot and mean. You gasp, stunned, pain blooming like fire under your skin. But Bucky doesn’t let you recover. A strong hand grips your throat, firm, not enough to choke but enough to silence. His thumb presses under your chin, tilting your head so you face him.

“You look real pretty with my mark on your face,” he growls. “Slap you again, you’ll probably cum.”

“Fuck you,” you bite, voice cracking. Your tears betray you, slipping down hot and shameful.

He chuckles, low and dangerous.

Then he spits—right onto your tongue.

You gag on instinct, trying to turn your head, but his metal hand grips your hair tight, keeping you in place.

“That’s more like it,” he snarls, tightening his grip. “Open that pretty mouth, doll. Let me see what else you’re good for.”

The sound of his belt unbuckling slices through the air. Panic sets your blood racing. You try to squirm away, but he’s faster. His metal fingers curl into your hair, dragging you up until your neck arches painfully. You’re forced to look up at him—towering, hard, cock heavy and leaking as he fists it in one hand.

“I’ll make you beg for it,” he promises, voice like gravel wrapped in silk.

You shake your head violently, desperate, nails digging into his thighs in a last-ditch effort to shove him away but it only earns you another slap, harder than before. The sting rings in your ears, your skin screaming where his palm landed.

“You think I haven’t broken girls tougher than you?” he breathes, leaning closer, his breath hot against your lips. “But you, fuck, princess, you’re gonna be perfect.”

His fingers squeeze your cheeks until your lips part. You don’t mean to open your mouth, but your body gives in under pressure.

Bucky takes the invitation and he doesn’t ease in.

His cock fills your mouth in one brutal thrust, the thick head slamming against the back of your throat, choking you instantly. You gag around him, reflexive and helpless, eyes going wide as your body jerks. Your scratch at his hips, instinct, defiance, but it only makes him groan, a low, guttural sound that rumbles from his chest like thunder.

“That’s it, fuckin’ choke on it,” he pants, the praise laced with cruelty. His hips roll forward, shallow and deliberate, feeding you more with each thrust. “Good girl. Such a good fuckin’ girl when you stop thinking.”

You can’t breathe, hell you can’t even think. The stretch is brutal, your jaw aches already, and he’s not stopping. His cock is thick, heavy, sliding deeper every time, turning your throat into his own personal toy, your tears fall freely now, your lashes soaked, spit slipping past the corners of your lips, trailing down your chin. He watches every second of it—eyes dark and  ravenous as he fucks your mouth like it’s nothing more than a means to get off.

“You were made for this,” he growls, metal fingers fisting tighter in your hair. “Made for me.”

Then suddenly, he yanks back, cock dragging wetly from your mouth. You collapse forward, gasping, coughing, strings of saliva still connecting you to him. Your throat feels ruined, your lips swollen, your chest heaving as you suck in air like you’ve surfaced from drowning. Spit drips from your chin to the sheets below, and still—you can taste him. 

Hot, bitter and lingering.

“There she is,” he murmurs, voice mockingly sweet as he strokes a thumb across your wet cheek. “Didn’t expect to get owned tonight, huh?”

You glare up at him through tear-blurred lashes, the taste of him thick and awful on your tongue. Your voice comes out hoarse, broken. “You won’t get away with this,” you rasp.

“Oh, doll,” he breathes, leaning in close. His tongue drags slowly along the curve of your throat, savouring your shiver. “I already did.”

He smiles then, slow, dangerous almost as if he’s enjoying your unraveling.

And when he licks his lips, eyes locked on your swollen mouth, you know he’s not nearly done with you.

Bucky flips you over with terrifying ease, a single hand curling in the back of your hoodie like you're weightless. He rips it off in one violent motion, fabric tearing under the force, discarded somewhere across the room. Your panties don’t even stand a chance, his metal hand grabs and shreds them in two, the ruined lace tossed aside like it never mattered.

You try to twist away, but it’s useless. He’s already there, gripping your hips like he owns them, spreading your legs with a casual shove of his knee. The cool air hits your slick folds, and you flinch, a fresh wave of shame crashing over you. Your body’s betrayed you, soaked through, dripping for the man who just threw you around like a ragdoll.

“So fuckin’ wet already,” he groans, dragging two thick fingers through your arousal, spreading it messily over your folds. “Fought me like hell, but this cunt?” He swipes over your clit and watches you twitch. “It’s beggin’ for me. You feel that?”

“No,” you whisper, trembling. You don’t want to feel it, the burn, the need, but your body shivers under his touch, thighs twitching when his fingers sink inside you with a cruel, slow thrust.

“That’s biology, princess,” he growls near your ear, fingers curling deep and just right. “Your body knows what it needs. And it’s me.”

You sob, the sound cracking from your throat, raw and real. His other hand wraps around your neck from behind, dragging you upright until your back slams against his solid chest. You can feel the ridges of his dog tags against your spine, his cock heavy and hot, grinding against your ass as he finger-fucks you in slow, devastating circles.

“I could make you cum like this,” he murmurs, mouth brushing your ear, “with just these fingers. Could have you trembling and soaked, beggin’ me to fill you.”

He doesn’t stop. He keeps working you, just right, circling, pressing, sliding inside you like he knows your body better than you do. And maybe he does. Because your thighs are shaking, your head lolling back on his shoulder as that humiliating pressure builds.

“But I won’t,” he whispers darkly. “Not yet. Not until you beg.”

You won’t. You swear you won’t. But when your hips buck against his hand, chasing more, when that soft, needy moan slips out before you can bite it back, his mouth curls into a grin against your skin.

“There it is,” he purrs. “That sweet, filthy little sound I’ve been waiting for.”

And then he stops.

Just like that, fingers gone, heat gone. Your cunt clenches at nothing, throbbing and aching with need, and the whine that escapes your lips is pitiful and humiliating.

“No,” you gasp, hips rocking desperately. “No, don’t stop-”

“No?” he mocks, hand gripping your jaw, turning your face so close to his you can taste his breath. “You want more, sweetheart?”

You're silent, too ashamed, too wrecked to answer, but your body says it all.

His palm cracks hard against your soaked pussy, and you scream.

“Use your fuckin’ words.”

“…Please,” you whisper, voice shaking.

He groans, dragging the head of his cock through your folds, soaking it in your slick, teasing your entrance until your whole body trembles.

“Please what?”

“…Please… fuck me.”

Bucky’s growl is low, vicious and primal.

“There she is. My good little slut.”

Then he slams into you, no warning, no mercy. His cock drives deep in one savage thrust, splitting you open around him. The scream that rips from your throat is ragged and raw, muffled by the sheets as your arms give out. His hips smack against your ass, loud and obscene, and then he’s moving, brutal and relentless.

“Fuck,” he grunts, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back. “Tight little hole. Fuckin’ made for me.”

You sob into the mattress, your body caught between unbearable pain and something dark, twisted, devastatingly good. Your pussy stretches around him, gripping him tight, sucking him in with every thrust. And Bucky feels it, hell he’s fucking you like he’s claiming you, destroying you, owning every inch of your ruined body.

“You feel that?” he pants against your ear, voice hoarse. “Feel how your cunt clings to me? You like it. Filthy little slut, your body knows who owns it now.”

You want to deny it. God, you try. But the moans won’t stop, spilling from your lips like confessions. And your body was shaking, clenching and needy.

“You’re close,” he growls, burying himself deeper. “Gonna cum on my cock like the fuckin’ whore you swore you weren’t?”

“No don’t-” you choke, but the orgasm is building fast, cruel and unforgiving.

Then his fingers are there again, working your clit, rubbing in tight, merciless circles and the pressure breaks.

It hits you like a fucking freight train, your body seizes, your walls clench around him, and your scream is pure, brutal surrender. You cum hard, soaking him as you collapse beneath him.

“That’s it,” he snarls, fucking you through it. “Fucking cum for me, slut.”

But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow. He keeps driving into you, deeper, rougher, pushing you past the edge until your moans turn to wrecked sobs.

“Too much, please it’s too much-” you cry, voice gone and tears welling up in your eyes, unsure of just how much more you could take.

“No,” Bucky growls, hand tightening on your throat. “You’ll take it. You’re mine.”

His hips slam into you like a battering ram, over and over, and the sounds wet, brutal and carnal, fill the room. He’s panting now, groaning above you as he ruts into you like an animal.

“Bet you’ll be thankin’ me by the end of the week,” he hisses, every thrust sharp and punishing. “You’ll crawl into my lap, beggin’ for it like a good little cockdrunk slut.”

You can’t answer, you can’t breathe, all you know is the sharp ache where he stretches you, the burn in your thighs, the unbearable heat coiling in your belly again.

Then with one final thrust, Bucky slams deep and stills, groaning loud and wrecked as he spills inside you, cock twitching, his cum spilling hot and thick.

His hand tightens just enough on your throat to make you see stars as he holds you there, buried deep, until he’s drained and shaking.

And when Bucky finally pulls out, slow and deliberate, his cum oozes from your swollen, overstimulated pussy, hot and shameful between your legs.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“Mine now,” he whispers.

And you know he’s right.

Your body trembles, used and ruined, his cum leaking from your sore pussy, trickling down your thighs.

He lets you fall, and you collapse onto the sheets, face-down, broken and sobbing.

And then, his lips brush your temple, gentle and almost loving.

“You did so good for me, doll,” he murmurs, voice like velvet. “So fuckin’ good.”

You shiver, swallowing hard.

“You’ll see,” Bucky whispers. “You’ll love me by the end.”

And the worst part?

Some broken part of you believes he’s right.

a/n: hi! i hope you liked it! if you did, please drop a comment or a reblog, i would really appreciate it!

[leasstories]

Lea’s advent calendar day 21 – You’re doing great

@writerthreads writing prompt for Christmas (2022), prompt 16:

[going ice skating]

Eddie x gn!reader

No trigger warning.

 WC: ≈ 0.5K

December 21st, 1985

Eddie and you have been dating for three months now and you basically live at his trailer given how much time you spend at Eddie’s.

The only inconvenient difference between you and Eddie is that you’re an early bird while Eddie sleeps until 11 am. It is 7 am and you just woke up. You get up, go take a shower and poor yourself a cup of coffee. While sipping your coffee, you think about what Eddie, and you could do. Then, you remember that, a few towns over, you saw an ice-skating ring and think it would be a romantic activity to do with your boyfriend. You start packing yours and Eddie’s gloves and scarf in a bag.

When Eddie wakes up, around 11 am, you’re already dressed in sweatpants, a t-shirt and a sweat.

“Where are we going?” Eddie asks while rubbing his eyes.

“Ice-skating!” You say excited “It’s a date!”

Eddie groans. “I can’t ice-skate for the life of me Sweetheart…”

“I’ll teach you, come on Eddie it’ll be fun.” You say looking at him with your puppy dog eyes. You know Eddie can’t deny you when you do this.

Eddie pours himself a cup of coffee and sigh. “Fine… But don’t make fun of me!” Eddie warns.

“As if I were like that.” You say, rolling your eyes.

“Remember when you taught me how to ride a horse? You kept mocking me…” Eddie says sighing.

“I’m sorry about that.” You say before kissing his nose. “I can’t promise I won’t laugh if you fall but I won’t make fun of you.” You say softly, lingering close to Eddie’s face before kissing his lips.

Eddie eats a breakfast and get ready. You then both head out to the van and Eddie finds really cute how excited you are. He drives to the next town over and parks on the ice-skating rink parking lot.

Eddie smiles at how excited you are, you’re taking his hand and practically running. You go to the cash desk and buy to tickets, they then ask you your shoe size and you put on the ice skates, and as soon as Eddie tries to get up, he falls. Thank god you were close and able to slow his fall, avoiding that his head hit the ground.

“Ouch” Eddie says.

“’s gonna be fine Eds” you say, extending your hand to him to help him up.

“Stay close to the edge so you can grip t if needed. And if you need to hold my hand you can.” You tell him softly.

When Eddie sees how comfortable you are on ice-skate, he can’t help but feel self-conscious.

“’m sorry… I never did this before” Eddie says.

“I know my love, but I’ll teach you.” You show Eddie how to move forward a bit faster. Eddie falls twice, but every time you both laugh it off. After an hour, Eddie is almost as comfortable as you on ice-skate, and you both start dancing in the middle of the ice-skating ring.

Eddie twirls you around and kisses you passionately, in the middle of the ice-skating ring. After ice-skating for a while, Eddie and you go grab a waffle before heading to his trailer and cuddling together all evening long.

[lostalioth]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥

→ premise: if bucky was a pill then you were an addict and you wanna show him just addicted you are.

→ pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, cock piercing [jacobs ladder piercing], cock worship, nicknames [sweets, little one], oral [m receiving], small face fucking

→ a/n: kinktober 07

Now to say you were obsessed would be an understatement, you were addicted, captivated by your boyfriend Bucky Barnes. He didn't really understand why, often telling you he didn't deserve all the affection and attention you gave him. Therefore you were determined to show him your level of devotion as well as show him just how infatuated you were with him.

“Just lay back baby and let me worship you” you started explaining to Bucky in a soft tone as an attempt to calm his nerves. Lightly you push at his chest so that he backs up, his calf’s hitting the edge of the couch causing him to tumble back. He feels his whole body fill with heat at the look on your face as he falls back onto the couch. Your pupils blown, eyes lidded and glazed over in sheer lust, tugging your lip between your teeth, almost stifling a small moan at the sight of him. He leans back putting his hands out on the plush cushions, on instinct his thighs widen in a man spread. The new position giving your eyes perfect access to rake over his body, taking in the hard lines of his muscles that peaked through his tight Henley. As you soak in his state, his body responds, hips bucking up as his cock grows hard, his jeans and boxers becoming uncomfortable.

His nerves set afire once again as you sensually and slowly sink to your knees in front of him, your hands landing on his knees and traveling up his thighs to run over his bulge. “Sweets you know you dont have to do this” his cheeks flush in embarrassment as your tongue darts out to swipe over your top lip, you were practically salivating. Now Bucky wasn't the type of man to say no to a blow job obviously but he didn't feel deserving of being ‘worshiped’ as you called it.

“James Buchanan Barnes, shut up and let me appreciate my sexy ass boyfriend and his pretty cock, please?” Your voice comes out sassy and authoritative until the last word practically morphs into a plea. Your fingers are already working at undoing his belt buckle and the button to his jeans. He was growing more and more desperate for your mouth the longer the teasing went on.

“Mhmm yeah can definitely do that for ya’ little one” he rambled out, frantically nodding as his breathing grew heavier. You smile up at him in gratitude, your hands pulling his leather belt out of the loops and peeling his jeans down his legs. He lifts his hips up to aid you, his bulge finally feeling relief from its confines when you strip him of his boxers right after. His cock bouncing free and lightly hitting his toned stomach, a sigh falls from his lips as you take in the sight of it, making his stomach tighten and flip. He wasn't used to being admired in this way, the feeling unfamiliar but not unpleasant. His tip reddened and begging for attention as it leaks precum, your mouth watering as your eyes catch when the light hits his frenum piercings. 8 of them in total, one for every inch line the underside of his shaft making up his jacobs ladder piercing. To make it easier on you, taking all of him during your first time together he had you count each piercing as you felt them push inside you.

While you're lost in that memory, your eyes are still appreciating and committing the sight of his cock to memory as if you haven't seen it a hundred times by now. Bucky lifts your chin up with his thumb and forefinger, hunching his body over to lean down and press his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. Prolonging the intimate moment with you on your knees, he cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb under your eye in a loving manner. You hum into the kiss, your body melting at his touch before you pull away, him returning to his previous position.

Your tongue pokes out of your mouth, dragging down his shaft hitting each piercing as it goes. He sucks in a breath, hands gripping onto the edge of the couch cushions to refrain from just jumping to the end with him fucking up into your hot mouth.

“Fuck sweets” he hissed out when you kiss and kitten lick at his balls before licking back up the side of his cock. You grip the base of him while licking at his tip causing his cock to twitch in your hand before you sink your mouth down on him. “Shit~ just like that little one, oh god” he groans out as his head falls back, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. Bucky knew there was no chance of him making it to heaven when he passed but he knew if he did there was no way it’d feel half as good as this.

He softly moans out when you hollow out your cheeks and suck, your tongue running on the underside of his tip. Bucky lifts up his shirt giving your hands better access to rub along and roam his body. Nails starching at his v-line as you sink your mouth further down on him, taking his cock to the base in your throat, counting each barbell in your head. bucky can feel his balls tighten as they sit full of cum, he was already getting close. “S’good sweets, fuck” he breathed out as he rests his hand on the back of your head. He felt heavy as he sat in your mouth, his piercings cold on your tongue.

“Mhm~ please little one, can i fuck your mouth?” He begs, normally he wouldn't ask but he didnt know how much longer you wanted to extend your worship of his cock but he didn't think he’d last much longer. You hum around him in response as a ‘yes’ bracing yourself by grabbing onto his thick thighs. “Thank you, thank you oh fuck” a long string of curses leave his lips as his hips gradually start bucking up, thrusting his cock into your mouth, your spit spilling out and pooling at the base of his cock as your jaw goes slack to accommodate him fucking your thorat.

“Worship me whenever you want little one, this cocks all yours anyway sweets.” He groaned out, his hips flattering in rhythm as the knot in his stomach was about to snap. It would take a while before Bucky felt deserving of your adoration and worship but if this was one of the ways you planned to show it, he could get used to it.

→ a/n: this wasnt proofread and it was rushed as always, its also being posted later than i wanted lmao kinktober is low-key starting to drain me but fuck it. It’s been giving me issues with this post showing up in tags too so im annoyed with it lol.

[multific]

Soft Hands, Heavy Heart

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky tries to pull away, convinced he’s too broken to deserve love.

The rain had stopped, but Bucky hadn’t.

You found him on the rooftop, just after midnight.

His coat was too thin. His fists were clenched. His silence was louder than any thunder.

“You missed dinner,” you said gently.

He didn’t look at you.

You approached him slowly, the cold making you shiver.

You knew better than to touch him without warning, but gods, you wanted to. He looked like a man holding the world together by the edge of his teeth.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Didn’t mean to make you wait.”

“You didn’t.” You paused. “But you’re scaring me, Bucky.”

That made him flinch.

Not at the fear but rather at the thought that he caused it.

“I shouldn’t be near you,” he said after a long moment, voice raw. “I thought I could. I thought maybe I was something new now. But I’m not. I still have… all of this inside me.”

He gestured to himself like he were something dirty. Something broken.

You stepped beside him, arms crossed tightly.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” you asked. “Do you think I don’t see it? The way you wake up sweating, the way your jaw clenches when someone walks too fast behind you. The way you keep apologising for being in the room?”

He turned toward you, pain carved into every line of his face.

“You deserve someone whole,” he said. “Someone who doesn’t look in the mirror and see a murderer. Someone who doesn’t count every good day like it’s borrowed time.”

You didn’t speak right away. Then you stepped in front of him and reached for his hand, his metal one.

He froze.

Then, slowly, his fingers curled around yours.

“You think I love you despite your scars?” you whispered. “No, Bucky. I love you because you still stayed kind. Because even with blood on your hands, you use them to hold me like I’m made of light.”

His throat worked like he wanted to speak but couldn’t.

“You think you’re hard to love,” you added, voice shaking. “But you make it the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

He looked at you then, and god, you saw all of it. The fear. The need. The way he wanted to believe you but didn’t know how.

And still, he leaned in.

His forehead touched yours. Cold skin to warm.

“I don’t know how to be this,” he whispered. “To be soft. To be loved.”

“You don’t have to know how.” Your lips brushed his. “Just don’t run from it.”

He kissed you then, hesitant at first, like it might burn him. Then deeper, like it was saving him. And maybe it was.

Because when he pulled back, something had shifted in his eyes.

Less pain. More wonder.

And when he pulled you into his chest, your head tucked beneath his chin, you felt it:

The rhythm of a heavy heart trying to beat softer.

Just for you.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/