bionicbarnes
bionicbarnes
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bionicbarnes · 7 hours ago
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BUCKY BARNES + Reflexes/Catching things in The Marvel Cinematic Universe (2014-2021)
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bionicbarnes · 2 days ago
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chapter 3 is now up!!!
Masterpost: You Weren’t My Mission (Bucky x Reader)
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Summary: Bucky Barnes is working his way through his list of names, and you’re on it after having been a casualty in one of the Winter Soldier’s missions in 2012. As he makes his amends, you try to get to know him in an attempt to un-work the difficult memories you’ve held onto all of these years since the attack. Being friendly with your former nightmare has its complications, but one thing leads to another that happens to make that easier.
[This is a loose summary, as I am in the process of writing the story and am not 100% certain of all of its contents]
Content: fem!reader, slow burn, angst, eventual smut (none yet), bucky makin amends in more ways than one iykwim
TW: sexual content (not yet) and mentions of ptsd, violence
AUTHOR MASTERLIST
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
Chapter 1 – A Second Encounter
Chapter 2 – Making Amends
Chapter 3 – Adrenaline Rush
To be continued…
Also available on Wattpad and AO3
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bionicbarnes · 2 days ago
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You Weren’t My Mission: Ch. 3
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Chapter Three – Adrenaline Rush
TW: alcohol, violence
Note: Hello! All chapters will have warnings at the beginning of their content and possible triggers. If you find that I miss any triggers, please let me know and I will add them to the chapter warnings as soon as possible. Thank you! <3
Series masterpost
Also available on Wattpad and AO3
AUTHOR MASTERLIST
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
The door to the workspace few open with a bang. Your eyes swept over the tall brooding figure in the doorway, covered head-to-toe in black protective gear except for a silver-clad arm. ・:*:・゚☆
Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you typed frantically at your laptop, mind occupied by the pressing deadline you had tonight. You’d already scanned over the print copy of this week’s arts section and marked it up, checking for errors in writing and in layout before passing it along to Haelee for the second round of editing. After a full day at the office all that was left was news, the first four pages, and you’d be done for the night. God only knows how long that’d take, though, given the usual late nature of reporting on events from earlier that afternoon in the city.
Haelee and you had become an efficient duo, able to quickly pump out thorough rounds of copy editing each Thursday and Saturday night. You’d only worked together for eight months now, but had naturally become quick friends thanks to the job duties you shared. Tonight, you were planning to celebrate the completion of Friday morning’s paper with drinks at the pub two blocks over. It was a weekly tradition you’d developed after the routinely late Thursday nights, winding down before headed home. Ivan and Jess had started to join y’all lately, Jess an editorial intern fresh out of college and Ivan a page designer for the Tribune for two years now. Both the physical and technical proximity of your work and the demands of such a fast-paced work environment had made the four of you easy friends. Hell, if it weren’t for them and Carter, you’d have quit after the second month due to the pressure alone.
In the meantime, you typed out your edits on an early draft of a news feature for Sunday’s paper. Coworkers came and went through the doors to the room where you were stationed, one of many open spaces for collaborative work. Attached to the room was the office of the head news editor, Anna. Her office being stationed here made it one of the busiest and most frantic spaces of the building, reporters and head editors funneling in and out from visits to her office. Things had been especially busy lately; you knew little because of its top-secret status, but there was clearly a big story coming up that had the newsroom buzzing. You worked well in the frantic environment, the chatter an effective white noise that helped you focus.
Sudden screams echoed down the hallway and you lifted your head from your work, looking for the sound’s source. A heavy boom erupted that shook the building, stifling the cries. Jess and Ivan stood up from the table as Haelee shrunk into the chair next to you, eyes wide in fear. The door to the workspace few open with a bang. Your eyes swept over the tall brooding figure in the doorway, covered head-to-toe in black protective gear except for a silver-clad arm. Before you could register the commotion of your surroundings, he crouched down and rolled a golf ball size device into the office, just yards away from where you sat. Your coworkers across the room by door leapt from their desks and away from the device. It was safe to assume from the cries down the hall that this unknown man was a force to stay away from.
Three small beeps sounded from the device as you looked back to your coworkers, your friends, before everything went white.
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
You shot up, sweat dripping down your body and t-shirt clinging to your skin. A high-pitched ringing stifled the grounding of your senses in the pitch-black surroundings of your bedroom. Your sheets laid on the floor around your bed, kicked off in your inadvertent panic. You shifted forward and rest your head on your knees, wrapping your arms around your legs while attempting to catch your breath. As you came-to, you became increasingly claustrophobic from the feeling of damp sheets beneath you and the cotton t-shirt tight around your neck. You lifted your shirt up over your head and threw it into the pile of kicked-off sheets, now a pile of laundry you’d have to tend to before bed tonight. Reaching to your nightstand, you picked up your phone and checked the time: 5:22 a.m., almost an hour and a half before your alarm was set to go off.
With a sigh you brought your legs over the side of the mattress, attempting a deep breath before turning on your bedside lamp and heading into the en-suite bathroom. You immediately showered, eager to get the sweat off you before doing anything else. Going back to sleep wasn’t an option — you were never able to fall back asleep after nightmares — so instead you went about your normally-rushed morning routine at a leisurely pace. After having washed your dirtied sheets and downed two cups of coffee all while in sweats, you changed into your work attire. Staring into the mirror, you assessed the bags under your eyes from a restless night, which would undoubtedly only get worse as the day pressed on. At least I’ll pass out tonight, you sighed.
It had been nearly two weeks since your last nightmares, but each night since your encounter with Bucky at the bar your sleep was plagued with memories of the Winter Soldier’s attack. While drained, you were eager to see him again, hoping that you’d be able to alleviate the memories from carrying such heavy weight on your psyche. It had been a long near-decade, and you were desperate to find something, anything that would make the trauma more bearable. With the opportunity to meet with Bucky again right in front of you, it felt like the obvious answer. You hadn’t seen her in years, but you wondered if your old therapist would be proud of your willingness to face him.
As you grabbed your bag and headed out the door to get to the subway station, you wondered when the next time you’d see him was, if at all. It was Monday, five days since you’d seen him last, and he hadn’t yet come by the bar. Neither of you had shared any contact information, although you were sure he’d be able to get his hands on yours if he really wanted it thanks to whatever help he’d had to find you in the first place. As you walked the few blocks to the station, you noted that along with no way of reaching him, the two of you never even specified when you’d meet again. The unpredictability of it all left you anxious, but you tried to shrug it off to yourself as no big deal.
By the time you reached the offices of The Tribune, you were ready for your third cup of coffee. Fortunately, there was nobody at the Keurig station in the break room and you took advantage of the vacancy, prepping yourself for the long day ahead.
Once settled at your desk — just a large table with your monitor and not much else — you pulled your laptop out of your bag and began your regular Monday morning routine: checking emails, responding to missed Slack messages, and assessing your workload. It was monotonous, aside from getting to read and edit new stories, but how you spent all your day. The job could easily be done from home, which your boss reminded you of frequently, but the stillness of your apartment made it a daunting proposition. Even though you were quiet in the office, you’d rather be there with the soft hum of your coworkers’ presence than alone in your living room.
The next few hours of editing stories and columns for errors and fact-checking went by quickly, as usual, before you finally got up to stretch and grab a water bottle from the office fridge.
“Takin’ a break?” piped a small voice from behind you. You recognized it and turned around to find Lynn, one of your few work friends and a web designer for the paper. You grinned and leaned in for the small side-hug her extended arm requested of you. It was rare to see her around the office; usually she’d be taking conference calls and working from the comfort of her home in Queens. Today she was just in the office for a few meetings, she explained before asking you to join her for lunch.
The two of you grabbed your respective lunches from your desks and walked to sit in the courtyard, where you made small talk for no more than half an hour. She’d ask about your weekend and you’d do the same, and she’d share about how her and her wife had been doing while you nodded along with little else to share. You had the same conversation each time she came into the office, no more than twice a month, but appreciated the company nonetheless. Lynn was the only friend you’d made at The Tribune that you didn’t directly work with; your other two friends were fellow editors, each relationships that you brushed off as merely required due to the proximity of your work. Not that you minded. Making friends at work was just painful reminder of the close friends you’d once lost. Why develop close relationships like that again when it only meant that their loss would weigh heavier, you reasoned. While your therapist had attempted to chip away at your reasoning, particularly because of how harmful your self-isolation was, you brushed it off time and time again. It wasn’t that you hadn’t tried — it was that you had, only to have your point proven and to have struggled immensely. Friends from previous jobs had come and gone, natural given the demands of the industry but difficult nonetheless. You’d lost almost everything before and had struggled endlessly to restart. You considered yourself rightfully weary of building your life back up again with the looming fear of losing it all over again.
The pleasantries came to simmer and you and Lynn parted ways, her off to a meeting and you back to your desk with an inbox filled with editing requests. Hours went by as you worked your way through stories and tasks, coworkers leaving one by one to go home to their families and loved ones. You sat at your desk, hunched over and leg shaking, making occasional clicks with your mouse while sporadically typing feedback and edits. By the time it was 5:30 p.m., you’d worked your way through most of your inbox and the snack stash you’d packed was nearly depleted. You closed your laptop and stuffed your things back into your bag, grabbing the lone granola bar you had left before getting up to leave. On your way down the elevator you ate, mind only wavering for a moment before deciding you’d go to the bar tonight despite the early morning. Regardless of whether Bucky showed up, it’d be a useful excuse to avoid going home.
Half an hour later, you were at your usual spot in the bar, settling in after telling Vincent your order. Business was slow, even for a Monday night, so you were roped into small talk with Vincent, dancing around the topics of work and how your weekends had been. Eventually and much to your relief, a younger couple sat at the other side of the bar, warranting a distraction for Vincent. You loosened up now that you were alone, taking the last swig of your drink and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You checked your phone and were shocked to see what almost an hour had passed since you sat down. Small talk must have gone on for just as tediously long as it felt.
Setting your drink down on the counter, you got up to head home. You’d been nervously checking the entryway the whole evening, waiting to see if Bucky came to talk tonight, but decided that now was time to give up and head home. Besides, you’d had an early morning, so even if he were to show up now you wouldn’t be able to stay long. You paid Vincent for your drink and started your short trek home, eager to crawl into your freshly washed sheets and knock out for the night. As you walked, you pondered Bucky’s non-appearance; you knew not to be disappointed, but the uncertainty of when you’d see him next, if at all, left you far more anxious than you’d expected.
Maybe it was for the best, you considered, as days had passed since your interaction and you still hadn’t decided what exactly you even wanted to talk to him about. The whole ordeal was still taking time to sink in. You’d never expected to encounter the soldier again, much less for any second interaction to be non-lethal. You walked through the doorway of your apartment building as you battled your uncertainty, hoping that a night’s sleep would bring you a clear mind.
A/N: Thank you for reading chapter 3! The response to the first two chapters was so wonderful, thank you to everyone who’s read the first few parts of this story! Chapter 4 is in the works and will hopefully be out by the end of the week :] If you’d like to be added to a tag list for this series, let me know!
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bionicbarnes · 4 days ago
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creating a tag list for the upcoming chapters of this story! let me know if you’re interested in being added :]
Masterpost: You Weren’t My Mission (Bucky x Reader)
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Summary: Bucky Barnes is working his way through his list of names, and you’re on it after having been a casualty in one of the Winter Soldier’s missions in 2012. As he makes his amends, you try to get to know him in an attempt to un-work the difficult memories you’ve held onto all of these years since the attack. Being friendly with your former nightmare has its complications, but one thing leads to another that happens to make that easier.
[This is a loose summary, as I am in the process of writing the story and am not 100% certain of all of its contents]
Content: fem!reader, slow burn, angst, eventual smut (none yet), bucky makin amends in more ways than one iykwim
TW: sexual content (not yet) and mentions of ptsd, violence
AUTHOR MASTERLIST
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
Chapter 1 – A Second Encounter
Chapter 2 – Making Amends
To be continued…
Also available on Wattpad and AO3
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bionicbarnes · 5 days ago
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This is amazing!! 🤣🤣🤣
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bionicbarnes · 5 days ago
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hi! been working on chapters 3 + 4, but am goin thru finals + a breakup so it’s takin me a bit longer than expected :[ hoping to have them up in the next few days, tho!
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bionicbarnes · 8 days ago
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all that’s keeping me together at this point is knowing that we’re getting loki’s show in a month
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bionicbarnes · 8 days ago
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Bucky x Reader: Long Weekend
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Bucky returns from a weekend away, and you follow-through on the promise he made you a week ago: that you could do whatever you wanted.
Word count: 4.4k words
Warning: explicit sexual content, basically no plot beyond the first few paragraphs
Content: fem!reader, switch bucky, sub bucky, dom/sub, choking, bondage, edging, (light) slapping
TW: brief mention of blood towards the end
Note: Hello! All chapters will have warnings at the beginning of their content and possible triggers. If you find that I miss any triggers, please let me know and I will add them to the chapter warnings as soon as possible. Thank you! <3
MASTERLIST
Also available on AO3
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“That was cruel, you know,” he teased, “teasing me like that.” His lips found your cheek, plump from the grin that overtook your face. “Oh, was it now,” you laughed, voice more hoarse than you’d expected. “Considering how you begged, I’d think you liked it.”・:*:・゚☆
You laid on your side, back facing the bathroom door as you waited for Bucky to come to bed. It’d been a long day for the both of you, but for him especially. While you had been working from home, eyes trained on the 13” screen of your laptop all day, Bucky had just gotten back from a long weekend of training with Sam. Being a super soldier, he was able to help Sam practice his fighting skills with the shield with minor physical repercussions. Given the strength and skill that Sam had harnessed, Bucky being exhausted was a good sign.
The rustling behind you let you know that he was out of the bathroom and you turned around to face him, arms extended. He grinned and sighed before laying down, wiggling to fit himself between your arms. You nestled your face into the crook of his neck, taking in his fresh scent from the shower he’d just taken. It’d been a long weekend with him gone, and you were glad to have him home, back in your arms. You weren’t gonna let go of him tonight.
“How you feeling, hun?” you asked, looking up at him to find his eyes trained on you. “Just missed you,” he admitted, tucking your head into his chest and taking in your scent. The weekend had been just as long for him too without you there to help him relax each night. Even though he’d recently gotten better and was starting to smile more, he still needed your comforting presence to get through most nights. The pain of his day-to-day had lightened, but nightmares still plagued him on occasion. You sighed, melting into his arms as you planted a kiss on his bare chest. There wasn’t a day where you wouldn’t admire his figure, rubbing your thumb over his broad shoulder and lowering your hand to his stomach. You watched the rise and fall of his chest, noticing a hitch when you’d moved your hand.
“Just missed me, huh?” you cooed, teasing him for the change in his breath. He huffed, a smirk forming as he looked down at you, shaking his head. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t missed some of the more exciting parts of your nights together. While of course you weren’t having sex every night, his stamina made it rare for at least one weekend night to not be spent getting your guts rearranged. You chuckled at the thought. “Yea, missed you,” he answered, hand moving to rest over yours, stroking your wrist with his thumb.
All week you’d been thinking about one particular promise he’d made to you the weekend before. After a night of back-to-back rounds, you were bruised and battered in the best of ways, clinging onto him as you drifted into sleep. In what was probably a lapse of judgement, he’d promised your sleepy self that you’d get to choose what happened next weekend as a treat for being so good to him that night. He figured that you’d forgotten, too tired to even comprehend what he was saying. But you remembered. And boy, did you remember. Throughout the week you’d been thinking of what you wanted, planning to hold him to his promise before learning that he’d be spending the weekend away. The three additional days alone gave you only more time to consider. Tonight, you wanted to follow through on that promise. The slight tent that had begun to rise from your touch and verbal teasing made that desire all the more strong.
In one swift motion you swung your leg over him, bringing yourself upright and seated on his waist. He looked up at you, surprised at your interest given the long day you’d had. While he had the strength to go almost any night, you needed rest after most tiring days. But tonight, after a week of thinking about this very moment, your exhaustion was the last thing on your mind.
“Don’t think I forgot your promise,” you cooed as you bent to whisper in his ear, kissing his cheek. When you propped yourself up on your arms, he widened his eyes, surprised that you’d actually remembered. He had no issue with it, though, happy to let you take the reins after a tough weekend of his own. He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t been thinking about how he missed you in more ways than one, too.
For once you were in control, and you sure as hell were going to take advantage of it. Nothing excited you more than the thought of Bucky writhing beneath you with need, surrendering his body to you just as you’d done for him night after night.
Eager to test the waters, you grabbed his wrists and pinned them behind his back. Given his strength and easy ability to overpower you, you knew he was letting you do it. He wouldn’t admit submission just yet, but he was curious to see where this was going. Breaking away from his kiss, you distanced your faces. Your eyes watched his as he fixed his gaze on your lips, slick with the remnants of your heated exchange. As much as you wanted to succumb to his wants, you also wanted to take control — no amount of eye-fucking on his part was gonna make you lose your focus.
Before he had the chance to change your mind, you raised a hand to his bare chest, pressing gently in a signal to lie down. Finally unlocking his eyes from your lips, he held steady eye contact as he leaned backwards until hitting the mattress. You let your hand run down his chest and over his taut abdomen, admiring the way his muscles tensed under your touch. You couldn’t help but bite at your bottom lip as your fingers reached his sharp V-line, thumb brushing along the band of his boxers. He shuddered beneath you, tongue darting out over his lips. Oh, this is gonna be fun, you realized.
“Such a fucking tease.” His voice rumbled beneath you as he scoffed, erection pressing up against you as a reminder of his impatience. You arched your brow, lifting your hand from his torso and your weight from his hips. Leaning over, you licked a long stripe from the base of his neck up to his ear, a huff escaping his lips.
“A tease? You poor thing,” you whispered, nibbling at his earlobe. He groaned and you ground back against his clothed erection, lingering for only a moment before lifting yourself off him again. You’d show him a tease.
Sitting upright, you lifted your shirt over your head. Bucky’s eyes followed your every move as you brought yourself up to your knees and then to your feet. You tugged your shorts down your legs slowly along with your underwear, watching his hungry gaze as you stood above him. Dropping your clothes beside you on the bed, you brought yourself back down to the mattress and straddled his waist. He instinctively lifted his hands and ran them up your thighs, making your breath hitch before remembering that it was your turn to be in control. You smacked his hands away, grabbing his wrists. “No touching,” you warned as you leaned over, teasing a view of your breasts while you pinned his wrists above his head. It earned you a groan, but he didn’t resist your warning. Not yet, at least.
You leaned over to reach into the drawer of his nightstand, grabbing the belt he kept nearby for use on you. You glanced down at Bucky, who gave you a nod of permission while simultaneously rolling his eyes, frustrated but enticed by the prospect of further teasing. With a smirk, you unraveled the belt before wrapping the leather around his wrists, maneuvering the buckle and strap until his hands were securely fastened. You scooted down his waist and gave a quick kiss to his lips, a ‘thank you’ for cooperating despite his tendency to be the one taunting you. He wouldn’t admit it just yet, but the show you were putting on for him only made him want you more, made him want to submit to your every desire. In the meantime, he’d continue to be your brat.
One hand planted on his abdomen, you reached besides you and grabbed your worn panties from the pile. He knew exactly what you were going to do and licked his lips with a smirk; he’d done this to you a handful of times. It was his turn. You balled the fabric in your hand and held it above him. Compliant to your every demand, Bucky let you place the ball of lace in his mouth, cautious not to restrict his breathing. Lowering yourself closer to his face, you watched as his eyes nearly went black with just, able to taste the hint of your arousal. You suppressed a grin, turned on by how submissive he was being for you but wanting to maintain your dominant composure.
“You’ve been such a good boy so far,” you cooed, hovering over his lips. He scoffed and tensed below you, never a fan of being called your “boy” since he preferred being in-charge, but you reminded him of his submission with a nip at his bottom lip. You began planting kisses along his jaw and down his neck, stopping to suck at the skin above his pulse. Grinding into his hips once again, you could feel evidence of his arousal in the pressure of his erection against your core. You suppressed a moan, feigning control and fighting the urge to take him that very moment. Finally letting go of his pulse, you blew a gentle stream of air over the bruise that was beginning to form. Although it’d only last tonight due to the healing abilities of his super serum, you wanted to mark him as yours for the night.
“Think you deserve me?,” you whispered while pressing kisses across his chest, his breath rising and falling at a quickening pace. “You deserve to taste me?” You tugged at his nipple with your teeth, to which he groaned. When he didn’t give an answer, mouth hung open from the sensation of your tongue exploring his body, you halted. “Thought I asked you a question,” you scolded, sitting upright to look him in the eye with an exaggerated pout. You raised a hand to his face, caressing his cheek before giving it a cautious slap. He grunted at the sensation, eyes ablaze with lust.
A smirk tugged at his lips as he raised his eyebrows, challenging you, seeing if you’d do it again. You answered his silent question with another slap, a bit harder this time, eliciting a moan. Leaning over, you kissed the fresh pink tint of his cheek while snaking a hand down his torso back to his boxers. “Please,” he groaned against the fabric, aroused by your commitment to dominating him. Normally, he’d have your legs wrapped around his waist and begging him for release by this point, or at least be edging you towards your first orgasm. But you were taking things painfully slow — a style of pain he was coming to enjoy.
You danced your fingertips along the hem of his boxers before venturing below the fabric, running your nails achingly slow and delicately down the length of his shaft. You watched as he tensed his jaw, knowing you’d only give him pleasure if he submitted to your touch. Any attempts on his part to quicken your torturous movements would only make things slower, he accepted. Sensing his restraint, you wrapped your hands around his base, making slow motions up and down, twisting your wrist only slightly. As you increased your speed you reached up to run your thumb over his tip, smearing pre-cum. You moved yourself down his torso with caution, stopping once your lips hovered just above his cock. A grunt was all you heard as you ran your tongue over his tip, collecting the pre-cum you’d previously smeared. You watched as his hands curled into fists in their restraints, impressed by the self-control he was using to keep from tearing the belt to shreds. “Doing so good,” you praised before bringing his head between your lips, tongue swirling around his tip.
A part of you felt bad, knowing how much he was holding back from ramming his cock down your throat and bringing this whole, tantalizing experience to an end. But your sympathy lasted only a moment before he bucked his hips, unable to control his desire. You immediately sat up, clucking your tongue as you shook your head. “Naughty, naughty boy,” you scolded, watching the veins in his arms and neck rise to the surface. His eyes bore holes into you, showing a mixture of anger and regret. As you crawled back over him his gaze turned to one of worry; apologetic, even. You plucked the fabric out of his mouth and he let out a shudder, eagerly anticipating your every move. You were done giving his body attention — it was your turn now.
You cradled his head in your hands, planting a kiss on his forehead, beaded with sweat. “I know you’re trying, baby,” you praised him, a masked ‘thank you.’ As much as you enjoyed seeing him writhe in anticipation beneath you, you still wanted to give him as much pleasure as he gave you. But before you did that, you decided that you’d take advantage of the opportunity just a bit more. Hands still holding his face, you kissed his cheeks, letting your last kiss linger near the corner of his slightly parted lips.
“Let me,” he begged, twisting his neck to find your lips. You gave in to his plea, nipping at his lip before granting his tongue access to your mouth. As your tongues battled, you reached behind you to unclasp your bra, tossing it off to the side. Realizing what you’d done, Bucky let go of your lips after a moment more, eyes drifting down to your exposed chest. You felt his abs tense below you as he reached his head up the best he could while restrained, planting kisses along your neck. You shifted to give him better access, his hungry lips clearly seeking your chest as he moved downward as far as he could.
Shifting your weight, you moved your breasts to be over his face. Hell, you were impatient with the teasing too. Bucky’s breath hitched before he ran his tongue over your nipple, repeating the action once more before bringing it into his mouth. You gasped at the sensation of his tongue and teeth teasing you, and you ground your hips against his waist in response. He could feel the wetness of your arousal against his abdomen, making his cock twitch and his tugging at your breasts intensify. Letting go with a loud pop, he trailed his tongue to your other breast, giving it the same treatment. You moaned with each tug of his teeth, pussy aching with the need for attention.
As if he could read your mind, he let go of your breast, planting a warm kiss to your center. “Let me taste you,” he pleaded, voice deep with desire. “Please,” he added.
It didn’t take much persuasion for you to adjust your position so that your knees were on either side of his head, cunt just out of reach. “Don’t know,” you teased, “you deserve it?” His eyes left their hold on your body above him before meeting your gaze, eyes filled with fiery lust. Before you could get another word out, he lifted himself to nip at your lips, gently tugging you downward. You obliged, aching with need as you lowered yourself onto his face. He immediately pressed his tongue against you, eager to taste the arousal you’d been pressing against his waist. “Fuck, baby,” you gasped, hands finding his hair. Your body instinctively ground against his mouth, a silent plea for more. His tongue teased your clit before finding your entrance, slipping into you and tasting as much of you as he could. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine as your moans and utterances of praise grew louder, sending him into a frenzy.
Unable to resist any longer, he tensed his arms until he broke his wrists free of the belt restraint. You frowned, but quickly got over it as his hands came to grip your hips, fingers digging into your skin. He pressed you further against his mouth, tongue exploring every surface and crevice it could. A cry escaped your lips as his tongue circled your clit once again, bringing you close to your release.
“That’s it,” you moaned, jaw going slack as one hand reached to grasp the headboard. Your legs were shaking and your torso tensed, his grip on your sides now the only thing keeping you upright. “God,” you whimpered before he sucked hard on your clit, sending you over the edge. Your eyes clamped shut as your body convulsed above him, his tongue drinking in every bit of you. The growing sensitivity of your clit made you move to raise yourself off his mouth, but he tugged you back down, insistent on tasting all of your release. Warmth spilled from your core to every part of your body, Bucky’s hands keeping you steady when you swore your body had turned to jelly.
As he sensed you coming down from your high at last, he planted gentle kisses on the insides of your thighs. His eyes were trained on your face, watching as you struggled to catch your breath. You felt his calloused hand running up and down your thigh, a soothing gesture that helped bring you back down. Once able to open your eyes again, you were met with his adoring gaze, the smirk at his lips giving a crinkle to the corner of his eyes. “All good?” he whispered, metal thumb rubbing over your hip where his fingers had left marks from their grip. You nodded with a smile, finally releasing your grip on the headboard to brush the sweat off your forehead.
You blinked and felt the air come out from underneath you, your back suddenly pressed against the mattress with Bucky now straddling you. This time it was he who clicked his tongue, a low chuckle rumbling through his throat. “Thought you were done, huh?” he teased, metal hand coming to cradle your face. You wet your lips with your tongue and gave a small shake ‘no.’ You were fine with the fact that you were no longer in charge; you’d gotten it all out of your system and were happy to let Bucky take the reins once again. And given your earlier stunt, you knew he wasn’t done with you yet. He rubbed your cheekbone with his thumb, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he admired you beneath him.
Metal ran along and tugged your bottom lip, toying with you before bringing his between your lips and past your teeth. Without a moment’s hesitation, you swirled your tongue around the cool metal. Even though the sensation was incomparable to that he’d be able to feel with his flesh fingertips, he knew you were attracted to the harsh metal. Instead, he ran his other hand down your side, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps as he grazed your curves. You let out a soft sigh as his metal thumb left your lips, hand sliding down to cup the sides of your throat. Bucky raked his eyes over your body, watching you melt to his touch and thinking of the ways he could take you. Having destroyed his belt, that was out of the question.
You whimpered when Bucky shifted his weight to get off the bed. Your disappointment only lasted a second before he pulled you by your hips, turning you so that your legs hung off the edge of the mattress, sensitive cunt exposed to him and the cold air. As quickly as before, you were flipped over in nearly an instant, front now pressed against the mattress. Bucky ran his metal hand up your spine, back arching to his touch. He gave a gentle squeeze to your shoulder as if to soothe you before bringing his hand to clamp down on your neck, pressing his erection against your ass. At some point he must have kicked off his boxers because there was no longer a fabric barrier between him and your sensitive cunt. You groaned at the sensation of his tip sliding against your folds, to which he applied more pressure on your neck.
“Look at you,” he rumbled from behind you, “teasing me one second but falling apart at my touch the next.” You moaned as he pressed his erection further against you, running his tip against your sensitive clit. “So weak for me,” he rasped, sending chills down your spine. You curled your fingers around the bedsheets as he teased your entrance. He gave a heavy-handed smack to your ass before gripping your hip, fingers digging into where he’d already made marks earlier. With a sharp inhale, he entered you slowly, testing you by going deeper and deeper. You pressed back against his hips, wanting him to go faster. He tightened his grip on your throat and bottomed out inside of you. A cry passed your lips and he began moving, an alternating cycle of slow versus vicious movements. He grunted with each heavy thrust, fingers digging further into your side.
“Please,” you croaked, just above a whisper from the pressure on your throat.
Your plea lit a fire in Bucky and he pulled your body up by your neck to be flush with his, flesh hand loosening its grip on your hip to trail between your thighs. “If you insist, sweetheart,” he whispered into your ear, the depth of your voice making you weak. He took your words as a cue to quick his pace, hips snapping up into you as his fingertips found your clit. You gasped sharply as he ran circles over you, back arching as you involuntarily pressed your hips further against his. With each thrust you felt a huff of his air over your shoulder and heard a suppressed moan just by your ear, sending you closer to the edge as he physically unwound you.
It didn’t take long for the combination of pressure on your throat and clit, the intensifying thrusts, and the sounds of his pleasure to bring you to the brink of your release. By the way his cock throbbed inside of you and the sudden sharpness of his movements, you knew Bucky was right there with you. “James,” you moaned, hand reaching to grip the arm being used to choke you. He quickened the motions at your clit and you trembled, body crying out at the sensation. “Cum for me, doll,” he grunted against your ear, an increased pressure at your throat sending you over the edge. Your walls tightened around his cock as obscenities fled your mouth, legs shaking as your eyes clamped shut. Bucky continued the motions around your clit, now hypersensitive. The heat that had pooled at your core now spread across your body, nearly going limp in his arms as you gave into your release.
Bucky’s thrusts became erratic, hips snapping hard against you. He let out a loud groan at the sensation of your walls pulsing around him, biting down into your shoulder as his own orgasm overtook him. His abdomen tensed against you as he released ropes of cum inside of you, movements jagged. He loosened his hold on you and released his grip on your shoulder, bending you both back down against the mattress as he rest against your back.
Slowly his breath came back to him and he planted gentle kisses on your shoulder, rubbing his metal thumb over the bite mark that had brought small droplets of blood to the surface. He trailed his kisses across your shoulders and back before nestling his head in the crook of your neck, planting one last kiss. His gentleness helped you ease back into reality as you came down from your high more slowly than he had. The hand once at your hip now ran up and down your side, careful at the spots where his fingertips had left bruises that were already forming.
“That was cruel, you know,” he teased, “teasing me like that.” His lips found your cheek, plump from the grin that overtook your face. “Oh, was it now,” you laughed, voice more hoarse than you’d expected. “Considering how you begged, I’d think you liked it.” You couldn’t see it, but knew he was rolling his eyes as he chuckled, finally slipping out of you and lifting himself up. He tugged gently at your waist, bringing you upright to be flush with his torso again.
“And what if I did?” he whispered into your ear. You beamed, turning around to face him for the first time since he’d flipped you against the mattress. Your gaze locked with his before you admired the sheen of sweat at his forehead and the redness of his cheeks, still flush from having been out of breath. “Good to know,” you grinned as he licked his lips, glancing at your own before giving a gentle kiss. You reached up to cup his face, stroking your thumb over his cheek as he pulled away, pressing a kiss to your nose, then your cheeks, then your forehead. A laugh escaped you before you leaned to rest your head on his shoulder, and he ran his hand lightly along your back.
“C’mon dove,” he whispered, “let’s get you cleaned up.” You agreed but were slow to lift your head from his shoulder, eyes becoming heavy. He tugged at your arm, laughing as you poured up at him. “Don’t make me ask twice.” The smirk on his face made his ‘threat’ all the more intriguing and you planted your feet in defiance. He clicked his tongue and bent his knees. “Oh, doll, you’ll regret that” Before you knew it, you were dangling over his shoulder, laughing at the sudden movement. Bucky planted a teasing smack to your ass before walking you both towards the bathroom, off to follow-through on his promise.
A/N: Thank you for reading! If you have any constructive criticisms or requests, please dm me or feel free to reply! I’m open to all suggestions and comments, and if you have any requests I’d be interested to hear them as well. Thanks again!
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bionicbarnes · 8 days ago
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**All stories include smut. Content warnings are listed at the top of each post. ・:*:・゚☆
ONE-SHOTS
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☆ Long Weekend – Bucky returns home from a weekend away and keeps up with a promise.
☆ Wounded – When you get injured on a jog, Bucky tends to your wound.
☆ Answer Me – An angry Bucky teaches you who you belong to.
MULTI-CHAPTER WORKS
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☆ You Weren’t My Mission – in-progress
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bionicbarnes · 9 days ago
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hi this BROKE ME
This broke me.. no!! 🥺😭😭
TikTok cred: @straw_hat_goofy
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bionicbarnes · 9 days ago
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Summary: after four years studying abroad, you come back home to take your throne.
Warning, tags: mob!au. nsfw, +18!!! this series will contain smut, violence, and mentions of blood. Every chapter will be properly tagged.
; chapter index
PART ONE. (±1.4k)
PART TWO. (soon)
PART THREE. (soon)
PART FOUR. (soon)
** for now, it will have four chapters, but who knows in the future.
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bionicbarnes · 9 days ago
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woah!!! i just woke up to 100+ notifications, which is a lot for me 🥺 thank you to everyone who’s liked and reblogged the new fic, i’m really excited to dedicate some more time to it and get new chapters out for y’all soon. chapter 3 is in the works and should be out this week! 💓✨ thank you for all of the love :’]
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bionicbarnes · 10 days ago
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mood: bucky being proud of THE ONE AND ONLY CAPTAIN AMERICA
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bionicbarnes · 10 days ago
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Masterpost: You Weren’t My Mission (Bucky x Reader)
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Summary: Bucky Barnes is working his way through his list of names, and you're on it after having been a casualty in one of the Winter Soldier's missions in 2012. As he makes his amends, you try to get to know him in an attempt to un-work the difficult memories you've held onto all of these years since the attack. Being friendly with your former nightmare has its complications, but one thing leads to another that happens to make that easier.
[This is a loose summary, as I am in the process of writing the story and am not 100% certain of all of its contents]
Content: fem!reader, slow burn, angst, eventual smut (none yet), bucky makin amends in more ways than one iykwim
TW: sexual content (not yet) and mentions of ptsd, violence
AUTHOR MASTERLIST
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Chapter 1 – A Second Encounter
Chapter 2 – Making Amends
Chapter 3 – Adrenaline Rush
To be continued...
Also available on Wattpad and AO3
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bionicbarnes · 10 days ago
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You Weren’t My Mission: Ch. 2
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Chapter Two – Making Amends
TW: alcohol, mentions of violence and death
Note: Hello! All chapters will have warnings at the beginning of their content and possible triggers. If you find that I miss any triggers, please let me know and I will add them to the chapter warnings as soon as possible. Thank you! <3
Series masterpost
Also available on Wattpad and AO3
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You stared blankly at the hand in front of you, still attempting to process his mere presence. After a few moments of silence, Bucky nodded and gave a slight grin, resting his extended arm on the edge of the bar.
“Tend to get that reaction,” he chuckled. ・:*:・゚☆
You stared blankly at the hand in front of you, still attempting to process his mere presence. After a few moments of silence, Bucky nodded and gave a slight grin, resting his extended arm on the edge of the bar.
“Tend to get that reaction,” he chuckled. You glanced up, meeting his eyes for the first time since he sat down. A look of worry and sympathy met your own hesitant gaze.
As you held eye contact, your mind reeled through what he’d said, trying to sort out what exactly he meant. Amends? What does he mean ‘make amends’? You didn’t realize that you’d asked your questions aloud in a frantic whisper until the bass of his voice rushed to your ears, making you jump.
“Sorry to startle you. Uh, it’s a part of this whole process I’m going through,” he explained. He paused, waiting for some sort of reaction, but you sat frozen still. “I’ve been meeting with different people that I hurt — no, the Winter Soldier hurt — over the years on Hydra missions. You’re one of the last few names on my list.”
You gave a small nod, eyes darting back to the hand resting against the bar. His list? you wondered. It was then that you noticed how long you’d been holding your breath. You let out a small sigh and briefly closed your eyes, attempting to ground yourself.
“Why?” you asked, shifting your gaze back to his. Your voice was small, barely above a whisper, but he managed to hear you.
Although quiet, your question seemed to grant him some relief from the silence that had been hanging. Taking in a deep breath, he explained, “You were one of the few people who survived Hydra’s attack on The Tribune. I’m sure you know that, though.”
You nodded, mind taking you back to the scene at the hospital in the aftermath of the attack.
Of the forty or so staff members in the office at the time, only six of you had survived. As you laid in your bed at the urgent care clinic, nurses and doctors rushing around you, you kept your eyes pinned on the entrance, praying that more of your coworkers would be wheeled in. After hours of watching from your bed, you came to accept that it was just you six that had made it. You’d lost your best friend and boss. The only person you knew well of the survivors was your boyfriend at the time, who you watched be rushed into the ER as a piece of shrapnel stuck in his side was dangerously close to shrinking that survivor count down to five.
You were snapped back to the present by the clinking of glasses behind the counter, Vincent cleaning up after a party had left.
“Are you going to hurt me?” you asked, meeting Bucky’s gaze once again. He winced at the question, his eyes showing a shimmer of empathy.
“No, I’m not,” he assured you. “I’m actually here to say that-.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “That it wasn’t me who did those things.”
Confused, you arched your eyebrow, to which he continued.
“I was controlled by Hydra for almost about seventy years. They kidnapped me after an accident in Europe while I was on active duty and brainwashed me, making me into a living weapon. I was the Winter Soldier, they made me an assassin. But I wasn’t me, I had no control over myself.”
You nodded, vaguely familiar with the story. You’d known and read about him as the Winter Soldier, a Hydra assassin. While his pardon signified that there was a difference between Bucky and the Soldier, your memories subconsciously considered them as one.
Bucky’s eyes returned a soft and regretful look, glancing down at his metal arm before holding out his palm between you. You stared at it, eyes running over its ridges and flecks of gold.
“They gave me this, the arm,” he explained. “Well, they gave me the old one. This one’s new, from a friend in Wakanda.” Images of his old silver arm raced, memories of the way his metal fingers firmly gripped his gun, a red star painted on his shoulder.
Your eyes flickered between his dark metal fingertips and his gaze, trying to piece together what any of this meant and why he was here in front of you.
“What do you mean by making amends?” you asked again. He’d given the gist, but you couldn’t understand why he was here or what he wanted from you.
Bucky shifted in his seat, relaxing a bit as he sensed your fear turning into confusion. He delved into explaining the process of his making amends, telling you about the types of people on his list and how he wanted to give people closure. He talked about the memory wipes, the separation between him and the Winter Soldier. You nodded along, mind finally wrapping around the concept when he abruptly stopped his explanation.
“I’ll let you go,” he offered, aware of his intrusion on your evening. “I just wanted to explain, you know,” he paused. “That I’m not that person anymore. Or, I guess, that I never was.”
He glanced at the bar top before pressing his hand against the surface, pushing himself out of his seat and onto his feet.
“Thanks for listening to me. I’m sorry for-“ he glanced at the ground before meeting your gaze again. “For everything.” He turned to leave, straightening his arms and stepping out from between your seats.
Your sudden grasp on his arm startled him, Bucky whipping his head around to face you again. He'd never been able to shake the fight or flight instincts that Hydra had intensified in him.
“You don’t have to go,” you suggested. “I mean, you can, but we can talk about it more.”
Bucky nodded slowly, not used to your reaction. Most people were glad to see him leave. But you wanted to know more.
“I think talking about it could help. You know, with the memories and stuff. Plus, I don’t really want to hate you if it wasn’t you that hurt me,” you explained.
Glancing between your grip on his jacket sleeve and your gaze, he hesitantly sat back down. “What do you want to know?” he asked.
“Do you remember it?” you pressed. You relived the memory each night in your sleep and every day at work for years afterwards. It was only recently that you’d been able to suppress it, sometimes making it a couple of days without acknowledging what had happened. How did he even remember you?
“I remember all of them,” he admitted, a hint of sorrow in his voice.
Wanting to break the tension, you waved Vincent over to your end of the bar and motioned towards Bucky’s empty hand. He ordered a glass of whiskey before turning back to you, a hint of a smirk on his lips. Maybe a drink would loosen him up, you thought, unaware of the serum’s restrictions.
While the alcohol had no effect on him, having the drink in his hands seemed to help him relax. He asked about how you’d been faring in the years since the attack, to which you shared briefly of the recurring nightmares and post-traumatic stress you’d faced. You feared that you’d shared too much, but he nodded along, a sympathetic look in his eyes. You weren’t opening up much but talking about it with him helped.
It wasn’t taking you long to recognize that the man in front of you wasn’t the same man who had eyed you down the barrel of his gun. Although difficult, the eye contact and talking with him helped you make this distinction, as did his understanding and willingness to listen. Even when you were sharing about the effects of the trauma had because of the Winter Soldier, things you knew probably weighed heavily on him, he nodded along and gave you his full attention. You felt comfortable telling Bucky these things, and he seemed comfortable around you; neither of you were fully relaxed, but at least were trying to talk.
“What have you been up to all these years?” you asked. “Since Tony, you know …” Ever since everyone came back from the snap, you’d heard about him from time to time, still referenced to by most news outlets as ‘the Winter Soldier.’ You knew he’d been pardoned and seen pictures of occasional sightings, the metal arm a dead giveaway of his identity, but knew little else. He told you he’d been living in Brooklyn the past few years, to which you were shocked that you’d managed to avoid seeing him for so long.
“I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other until now,” you quipped.
Bucky smiled, but you could see the subtle grimace beneath the expression. “Yeah, I’ve been steering clear of anywhere you’d be,” he admitted. Your eyes widened — how had he known where you were? Where you worked now? “I’ve got people who’ve helped me avoid running into you or anyone else around here,” he explained as though he could read your mind, but offering no further explanation. Truthfully, you didn’t want to know the details.
“Why now? What made you come here tonight?” you asked. It had been nagging you the entire evening — what made him come to see you now?
“I’d heard you come here in the evenings,” he offered, exposing yet another detail you didn’t really wish to know. “Figured I’d give you some time before just showing up, didn’t want to scare you more than I have.”
You nodded, grateful that he hadn’t come sooner. Things had gotten better with the nightmares and flashbacks in the past few months thanks to work getting busier, and if he had come to see you any earlier you would have undoubtably had an instant panic attack. You were admittedly creeped out that he knew you would be here, but given his connections, you guessed that he had intel on nearly whatever information he wanted about anyone. Plus, talking with him had proven fruitful for you, helping you disconnect Bucky Barnes from the Winter Soldier. He didn’t say it, but it helped him too, helping him humanize himself.
Over an hour had passed since he sat down, and your stomach twisted in hunger. You’d had two drinks without eating dinner; it was beyond time for you to go home and eat. As the conversation came to a lull, you shifted to face him fully, looking him in the eye.
“Could we meet again?” you ask hesitantly. “I think it may help me, you know, with processing what happened. Only if you want to, though.”
He paused to consider your proposition and you watched as the wheels in his mind turned, weighing the possible outcomes. A moment passed and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a subtle smile. He nodded in approval.
“I’ll come back by soon,” he assured. You nodded and stood up, grabbing your phone and bag before adjusting your shirt, smoothing your hands over your jeans.
“I’ll see you soon, then.” You gave a small nod and did a quick wave to say goodbye, not comfortable with shaking his hand quite yet. While talking to him helped, you weren’t exactly relaxed around him. It was going to take some time for your mind to fully separate him from the man who had threatened your life and ended so many others’.
Fifteen minutes later you were at your front door, fumbling in your bag for your apartment keys. Once inside, you set your bag in its usual spot on the bench in the doorway and walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab the takeout you’d saved from the night before. You dished out your food onto a plate and stuck it in the microwave. As you waited for the timer to go off, you leaned back against the counter.
Besides the sound of the microwave whirring and the occasional honk from the street below, your apartment was completely silent. The silence always gave you time to think, whether for better or worse. Tonight, your mind wandered to the conversations you’d had, running through the details he’d shared and wondering if you’d said too much. Was meeting him again a good idea? Was this really going to help, or were you doing yourself more harm than good?
Just as you began to question yourself, the oven timer rang through the kitchen, making you jump. You grabbed a fork and took your plate from the microwave, walking to your living space to curl up on the couch. Normally you’d put on the news, your mind always focused on work and the need to stay up to date on current events. But tonight, you ate in silence, instead looking out the window at the city street below as your mind wandered back to your interaction with Bucky.
You desperately hoped that this wasn’t a horrible idea.
A/N: Thanks for reading chapter 2! I posted both chapters 1 and 2 back-to-back, and am gonna take a little bit to get chapter 3 up but already know where I want for it to go. This is gonna be a bitttt of a slow burn, if you haven't picked up on that yet. Thanks for sticking around!
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bionicbarnes · 10 days ago
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You Weren’t My Mission: Ch. 1
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Chapter One – A Second Encounter
TW: alcohol, implied violence
Note: Hello! All chapters will have warnings at the beginning of their content and possible triggers. If you find that I miss any triggers, please let me know and I will add them to the chapter warnings as soon as possible. Thank you! <3
Series masterpost
Also available on Wattpad and AO3
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His eyes were fixed on yours, gaze intense despite the physical distance between you. If the sight of his metal hand hadn’t confirmed that it was him, then his face solidified it. You’d seen this exact glare in your nightmares for years now. Although nearly a decade had passed since the last time you saw him, you had never been able to shake the memory. It was him, and you were sure of it. ・:*:・゚☆
Your thumb swept around the surface your glass, collecting the droplets of condensation that had begun building up. With one final swig you downed the remainder of your gin and tonic, eyeing the entryway on the lookout for any newcomers.
“You all done for the night, y/n?” Vincent wandered over, dish towel in hand, to collect your glass that was now only filled with ice and a slice of lime. He knew your routine by now — you only ever came by for a single drink after work, people-watching as you unwound before heading home to your quiet apartment. While you hadn’t ever told him that last part, he figured that if you had somewhere urgent to be that you wouldn’t be here every night, although he’d never ask.
“I’ll have another, actually,” you declared, voice unsteady as you weren’t sure in your choice. Typically you’d have one drink and leave, occasionally staying around a bit longer to sip on some water if you really didn’t want to go home that night. But the week had been long and it was only Wednesday; you wanted — no, needed that second drink.
“Sure ‘bout that?”
“Yea, I’m gonna hang around a bit longer tonight.” Vincent’s eyebrows raised as he did a slight nod, reaching below the counter for a new glass, to which you let out a playful scoff. “Don’t act so surprised,” you teased, “I mix it up sometimes.” While you rarely talked, you and Vincent had become more comfortable with your banter over the past year or so. Even the most guarded of patrons like you couldn’t avoid small talk with the bartender — especially not if you were a regular.
As you waited for your drink you scanned your surroundings, looking to see if anybody new had come in for a drink. Weeknights tended to be slower, but there were a few couples and groups of friends scattered throughout the room. You and a man no younger than 50 were the only ones seated at the bar, him closer to the entrance while you sat furthest away at the seat you knew had the best view of the place. Almost every night you were in this exact spot, sipping slowly on whatever drink you’d ordered, checking your phone for the occasional text message or work email, and people-watching. It was pretty rare for you to spend more than an hour there in one evening, but tonight it had been nearly an hour and here you were ordering a second drink.
You jumped when Vincent placed the new glass in front of you, your mind focused on the other people scattered throughout the room. He let out a light chuckle as he turned around, walking towards the other side of the bar; he was pretty used to your skittishness by now. Hand wrapped around your new drink, you brought your focus back to your surroundings. A couple seated at a small table to your right engaged in small talk, exchanging pleasantries in-between awkward sips of their drinks. Definitely a first date, you thought. A burst of laughter from a booth further away caught your attention, where a group of men in suits sat meeting for a drink after work. Aside from that, there was little commotion in the bar tonight. While commotion made for fun people-watching, you preferred the gentle hum of casual conversations on slower nights, the occasional clinking of glasses from Vincent’s cleaning or a new table being served.
Realizing a few minutes had passed, you grabbed for your drink and took a sip, eyes skirting over the rim of the glass as you spotted movement in the entryway.
Suddenly, you wished you hadn’t ordered that second drink.
A tall figure entered the bar, shoulders swaying with each step. When he came to a stop you finally took him in, eyes scanning over the black leather jacket that spanned his broad frame and running down to his hands. Dressed in all black, the flesh tone of his hand stood out. Which made the metallic black of his left hand all the more apparent, confirming what you had hoped was just another instance of unnecessary panic.
The brooding figure wasn’t foreign to you.
Your eyes glossed over as you remembered the last time you’d seen him all those years ago. While the nightmares weren’t as frequent and you were able to go days at a time without thinking about it, you were still able to vividly remember the moment. The way his eyes had met yours, menacing and unforgiving as you held back a wail of pain from the pressure of debris pressing on, or into, your torso. The fear that ripped through you when you registered the M4A1 in his tight grip, barrel pointed in your direction. The way you laid there, shaking and ears ringing, wishing that he, whoever he was, would keep moving past you, that he would leave you be. He had done just that, only pausing for a moment to assess your helpless position before lowering the barrel of his gun and trudging onward in his search for his true target.
So many times since then you thought you’d seen him again, only to sigh with relief when you saw the two flesh hands of whoever had startled you.
But this wasn’t one of those moments, and the sight of his metal hand confirmed it. It wasn’t silver like the one in your memory, but there were only so many guys out there with bionic left arms.
You came out of your trance to find that his eyes were fixed on yours, gaze intense despite the physical distance between you. If the sight of his metal hand hadn’t confirmed that it was him, then his face solidified it. You’d seen this exact glare in your nightmares for years now. Although nearly a decade had passed since the last time you saw him, you had never been able to shake the memory. It was him, and you were sure of it.
With a slight roll of his shoulders and a subtle nod, he dropped his gaze to the floor and began his slow descent towards the bar.
The sip of gin and tonic you had taken still sat on your tongue as you finally lowered the glass, letting the liquid slide down your throat and feeling the tingling sensation travel down to your chest. Your breath was shallow as your hands started to shake, to which you began fidgeting with the closest thing in front of you — the paper napkin that had been under your glass. As you ran your fingers along its corners and kept your eyes glued to the bar top, you felt his presence near yours, confirmed by the sound of heavy footsteps that approached.
The scent of fresh balsam and a bit of mint flooded your senses as you noticed him standing to your side, giving you a moment to take in his presence before sliding into the seat to your right. Having kept your eyes trained on the napkin at your fingertips, you subtly glanced over, noting the metal arm that was closest to you. It’s really him, you confirmed. Instead of a reflective silver like the arm you remembered, this one was much darker, a black metal with hints of gold in between the plates. You couldn’t see further up than his wrist, the rest of his arm concealed by the jacket.
It took everything in you to refrain from bouncing your leg against your barstool. Maybe if I stay as still as possible, you thought to yourself, I’ll make it out of here alive. You had no clue what he wanted and it terrified you.
The desire to fidget became all the more intense as you felt him shifting his upper body to face you while in his seat. Your breath hitched when his flesh hand came into view, extended for a greeting in your direction. He let out a low sigh as you shifted your gaze slightly, glancing at his hand before sheepishly making eye contact with the man who had once both threatened and spared your life. You watched as he slightly parted his lips, allowing for a gentle smile to form at the corner of his lips.
“Long time, no see, Miss y/n. I’m James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, and you’re a part of my efforts to make amends.”
A/N: Thank you for reading the first chapter of this story! I'm currently drafting up what will come next, but am in the end of a semester so it may be a few days until I have something ready to publish. This is my first longer work and I'm looking forward to the journey. Stay tuned for updates, and please let me know if you have any comments or questions!
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bionicbarnes · 10 days ago
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Well this is my new favourite video
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