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sparklefics · 1 year

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Losing you

Bucky & avenger!reader

WC: 1,185

Summary: a near death experience puts things in perspective.

Warnings: near death experience (not detailed tho), mentions of injury and blood. Language!

I wrote a thing!! It’s been months since I’ve been inspired/ had time to write. Here’s a little angsty fluff.

Gif not mine.

[Masterlist]

Since you joined the team you’ve gotten along with everyone. Missions are successful at least 90 percent of the time.

For the last nine months you’ve been partnering up with Bucky. He’s damn good at his job and you get along just fine, at least when you’re on the field.

Off the field is an entirely different story.

It’s not so much that you don’t get along, it’s just you don’t hang out outside of work. The only time you ‘hang out’ is during training.

You wouldn’t consider him a friend— at least not like Sam is. Bucky is merely your teammate, your partner.

Normally Bucky is cool, calm and collected until the day you get hurt in the field.

“Star, come in.” Bucky speaks through the comms but is only met with silence so he tries again. “Agent Star, come in!”

Star is the code name Sam gave you when you joined his crusade as Captain America. He liked to joke around about his Stars and Stripes and the Sentinel of Liberty, respectively you, Joaquin and Bucky.

Bucky turns back to the last checkpoint and his body goes rigid as he takes in the scene before him. There you are laying on a puddle of blood—yours, he realizes.

He doesn’t take the time to over analyze what went down, all he cares about right now is getting you to safety.

—————

It’s scary to put so much on someone. To let them be your everything, he hadn’t realized that was what had happened. To him you were just his partner.

Until he almost lost you.

That’s when he realized what’s really at stake here. Not only your life, but his happiness.

—————

Three days, that’s how long it takes for you to wake up.

“Ow. That hurt.” You groan and hear Sam chuckle, when you bat your eyes open you see Bucky storming out of the room.

“That’s not funny, Star.” Sam says. “You scared us. How come you didn’t call for backup?”

“How long was I out?”

“Three days. And yes, he was here the whole time, barely got him to eat and shower.”

“Where’s Stripes?” You deflect and ask about Joaquin.

“Coffee run.” Sam stares towards the doorway and sighs. “Buck was the one that found you.”

“Hmm. I think he might be mad at me— you know for almost dying.”

“He’s entitled to that, you’re his partner after all.”

—————

Bucky never comes back to the med bay. In fact you don’t see him for weeks, until you’ve been given the all clear to go back out on the field.

You approach him silently at the gym while he’s pummeling a punching bag. Three bags already discarded after he ripped them open.

“Hey Liberty!”

“Don’t call me that. You know I fucking hate it.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

“Who said I was?” He turns around and you’re not ready for that tender look he gives you. A mixture of guilt that you almost died on his watch and something else you can’t pinpoint and it almost makes you think that he might actually care.

As scary as it was, almost dying put so much in perspective for you. First thing’s first, before you passed out on the field your very last thought was Bucky’s smile. That was strange…yes, he’s your partner but you were about to die and your last thought was of him not begging for help just one last smile of Bucky’s.

Secondly, it felt so off and hurtful seeing him walk out as soon as you woke up. You didn’t know why it hurt but the fact that it did meant that you wanted him there when you woke up. Or at least you expected him to be there, he is your partner after all.

You almost lost everything.

You almost lost him.

It’s infuriating how he managed to become something more than just your partner without you even realizing it. Though all your anger dissipates with the look he gives you. None of it matters when he’s looking at you and touching you so delicately.

Bucky traces a finger ever so delicately over the still fading bruise on your cheek bone.

You hadn’t realized he’d been standing so close to you. Or why the disheveled look he’s got going on looks so good on him. Has he ever looked better? Yes, but today he looks kinda hot and vulnerable, in a way that you just wanna comfort him, run your hands through his hair, cuddle the shit out of him.

Out of nowhere you grab his face and kiss him— on the lips!

“You can’t blame me for that. I almost died.”

You murmured against his lips. And to your surprise he doesn’t pull back, instead he deepens the kiss.

“Shut up, I'm still mad at you.” He mumbles against your lips.

“Ha!” You pull back just enough to slap a hand on his chest. “I knew it! You are mad at me!”

Bucky pulls you right back to his arms and rests his forehead on yours. “I’m just…I can’t lose anyone else. Do you understand?”

You nod.

“I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at myself. You got hurt out there, I should’ve—”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, “James Buchanan Barnes it is not your fault I got hurt. I should’ve called for backup, it’s not your responsibility to keep me safe.”

“Yes it is. You’re my partner.”

“You say that like it means something else. What are you really trying to say, Sarge?”

As if the kiss you two shared hadn’t made it clear this certainly would.

“Star, you are everything to me.”

And your anger makes an appearance again, you pull away from him. “I’m finding that a little hard to believe, cause since I woke up all you’ve done is avoid me.”

“I’m just— seeing you there in a puddle of blood it fucked me up.”

“Waking up and seeing my partner walking out on me fucked me up. You were the last thing on my mind before I passed out. I was trying to call for— I was going to call for you when I blacked out. Then I wake up and see you walk out the door and never come back.”

This isn’t how Bucky pictured this moment. It should’ve gone like in the movies. You both admit your feelings, kiss and voila: happy ending. Not you angry at him, with unshed tears in your eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m an idiot that can’t handle his own feelings. But I love you. I need you to know that. I love you.” He squeezes your hands.

“That’s the thing Bubba, I love you too. So don’t you dare walk out on me ever again.”

You pull him in for a hug and you climb on him like a koala, arms around his shoulders and legs around his torso. He tells you he loves you again and assures you that he’s not going anywhere without you. “Well then, take me to my room. You owe me three weeks worth of cuddles.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #fluffy angst #angsty #angsty fluff

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spaceslayer · 1 year

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I didn’t have a choice.

#marveledit #tfatwsedit #buckybarnesedit #bucky barnes #sebstanedit #tfatws #marvel #gif #have some angsty bucky to start off the new year #bucky pls

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thestarkinternship · 18 days

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Whenever, Wherever

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader: One Shot (Angst)

Summary: As Bucky's nightmares about his time as The Winter Soldier continue to plague him, there is only one person who can help him through it.

Word Count: 2.5k (No mention of Y/N)

Warnings: mention of graphic violence (we know what happened to Maria and Howard), angsty! Bucky

A/N: This is loosely inspired by the chorus of the song 'Whenever, Wherever'. I don't know, I just thought it made a good writing prompt.

Masterlist

“Ready to comply."

James' metal hand flexed around the accelerator of the motorcycle, giving it a tight squeeze. Its shiny edges glinted under the light of the full moon. His body moulded into the supple, leather seat like it was made for him. Still his rigid body refused to relax. The powerful engine revved as the bike shuddered to life beneath him, gearing up to go. Gas gurgled out from the exhaust, cutting through the thick silence of the quiet evening. One swift kick up on the safety bar and the bike was now fully under his strong control. Releasing the clutch, he sped off into the distant night.

Weaving through the inner-city traffic was effortless for him, the numbered streets mapped out in his mind. Standstill cars hummed patiently for the lazy traffic lights to turn green, but James didn't have time for that. Cutting through the backstreets of Washington, he quickened his pace. A light breeze swept his mass of dark hair back, exposing the heavy mask tightly secured across the lower half of his face. Each passing block was filled with clueless individuals too wrapped up in their own business to notice the mysterious stranger. The city was simply a colourful blur to James as he made his way towards the outskirts of town. Skyscrapers and apartment buildings faded into quiet suburban homes. Soon enough, the buzz of the city was long forgotten, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

James' mission was clear: retrieve the new variant of the serum. Leave no witnesses. The orders burned deep into the depths of The Winter Soldier's mind. He could think of little else as he continued on track towards his target.

The glow from the city lights faded until only the bike's headlights remained. Heavy trees hung overhead, closing in on James as they cast out the moonlight. His wheels crunched over the gravel of the barren, country path. Dirt spat out behind the tyres, leaving murky clouds that hovered in the air behind him. It was a foggy view for anyone who might be watching him.

He wasn’t far off now – his target had only a mere half an hour head start. His grip on the accelerator hardened, propelling him further into the night. The motorcycle's rumble grew until it was all James could hear.

And there it was. Just a few hundred yards ahead of him was the unmistakable red burn of a car's rear lights. It couldn't have been going more than 20mph.

Now was his time.

James made a sharp right turn, barrelling himself down into the woodland surroundings. He drove down the steep bank until he was concealed from the view of the main path. The tyres bounced across the rough earth, shaking him in his seat. His thighs squeezed against the warm bike, maintaining his grip. Gently steering around the thick tree trunks ahead of him, he slowly edged the bike forwards across the rugged ground against its will. He was parallel with the target now, but it wasn't enough. James' right knuckles bared white as his desperation to overtake them grew. Glancing down at the speedometer in front of him, his jaw hardened. He could do better than that.

Just a little more.

He didn't let up until he could no longer hear the target car's engine behind him and he was alone again. Veering upwards, the bike strained under James' demanding grasp. As he reached the edge of the treeline, James finally allowed the bike some refuge as he came to a halt. He slid the heavy bike to the pine needle floor with a soft thud. James paced forwards until he got to the road clearing. Concealing himself in the shrubs outlining the road, he froze in a poised crouch.

The Winter Soldier took a deep breath and cleared his mind. He listened out for the low hums of the fast-approaching car. At first, there was nothing but the leaves as they scratched against each other in the breeze. Exhaling, James closed his eyes and allowed his heightened senses to search his surroundings.

A delicate bird song. An owl crooned overhead. The scuttle of a wood mouse, burrowing deep into the ground. And then pounding gravel.

He could just about make out the constant switch between the gas pedal and squeaking brakes as the car grew nearer. Allowing his eyes to open, he saw long shadows form behind the trees. They stretched tall in all directions, ghostly branches curling their wicked fingers that beckoned the car forwards in his direction. The dim headlights finally broke out into the clearing ahead. James counted the passing seconds as he waited for the target to finally be in his reach.

One. Two. Three.

Springing forwards, James swiped his left arm out at the closest front tyre. A putrid, burning scent filled the air as the titanium arm sliced through the soft rubber. Vibrations rooted through the metal and spread up all the way to his shoulder. Rolling it back, he straightened himself back out. Screeching pierced his ears whilst the car rolled out of control. Tyre marks dug deep into the soft dirt as it lost its grip on the road. His eyes narrowed as the bonnet wrapped its way around a nearby tree. It finally came to a halt. A warbling alarm faded into silence, too destroyed to cry out for help. The dented metal sprang free as smoke erupted into dark clouds above him. It billowed out in the wind, travelling back towards the city James had left behind long ago.

As he approached the wreckage, he finally got a clear view of the two witnesses. A man and a woman. She was slumped back in the passenger seat, sticky blood trickling down her pale face. The seatbelt had imprinted on her fair skin, leaving a deep, maroon mark. Her shoulders were slung back into the leather, struggling to lift with each faltering breath.

The man was a different story. He convulsed as he struggled in the compressed front end of the vehicle. His hands flapped at the seatbelt as it welded itself into the trapped buckle. Rocking back and forth, his feeble attempts at escape were short lived.

Tucked away on the backseat, a shiny briefcase laid unharmed. The Winter Soldier's glare darted back and forth between that and his own reflection the window. His eyes were dark pools, his pupils dilated with greed as he locked onto the prized serum. Hard grooves across his forehead dipped down into furrowed brows. Sweat silently dripped down past his mask and onto the floor.

He watched as his metal arm flexed in the window, before colliding with the reinforced glass. Tiny shards shattered out in every possible direction. They littered the floor and turned to dust under James' heavy steps. Cracks splintered through the pieces still clinging onto the window frame. With the barrier gone, he was brought face to face with his witnesses.

Howard Stark's pleading eyes flickered between James and his dying wife. His face softened at the sight of this shadowed stranger who just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Someone had come to save them.

"Help... my wife." His deep voice choked.

The Winter Soldier stayed silent, the only noise from the witnesses’ exasperated breaths. Howard dipped his head level to the window to get a better look at his saviour.

The hope in his voice was soon replaced by dread as he finally recognised the man standing before him. "Sergeant Barnes?"

There was no more time for games. James curled his metal fingers into a tight fist. Built up rage flowing through the titanium as he brought his heavy arm down on Howard's face.

Bucky jolted up in the darkness. It engulfed him like an endless void. Robbed of his sight, Bucky had never felt as lost as he did in that second. His heart pounded with each rapid breath, fighting to get out of his bare chest. The heavy exhales filled the quiet room. Around his neck, the wartime dog tags tinkered against each other, leaving a ringing in his ears. The chain rubbed against the back of his neck. The metal links melted into his skin with his body heat, and small beads of sweat slid down the cool metal before dropping onto the surface around him. He grasped out in the darkness, feeling nothing but fistfuls of clammy bedsheets. The cotton material swaddling his body reminded him of where he truly was. He was at home. He was safe. The nightmare was over, but disturbing images still lingered in the stiff, summer air of the hot bedroom.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Bucky began to make out shadowed shapes in the room surrounding him. He spared a glance at your sleeping body next to him. Wrapped up in the soft sheets, you looked so peaceful letting out faint snores as you slept blissfully unaware of Bucky's late-night turmoil. Leaning down, he planted a soft kiss on your head. Murmuring softly, you rolled over but thankfully didn't stir.

Gripping the mattress with shaky hands, he planted unstable legs on the wooden floor. Bucky inched himself off of the bed as not to disturb you. Pacing across the room to the window, he carefully wedged it open. Bucky clutched onto the window ledge, his fingertips tracing over the soft grooves in the woodwork. He focused on the patterns whilst his harsh breaths struggled to return to their normal rhythm. A midnight breeze blew into the room, tickling along his hardened jawline until his red face cooled. The streetlamps flooded the bedroom. Distant sirens and soft chatter drifted in from the busy Brooklyn streets down below, bringing Bucky completely back to reality as relief washed over him.

"Bucky? Are you awake?" Your tiny voice whispered out of nowhere.

He rocked on his heels to face you. Your delicate features were lit up by a sliver of moonlight that streamed in from the open blinds. Even in the low lighting, Bucky could see how your sleepy expression distorted into one of concern from the moment he turned around.

"I'm fine. I was just a little warm. I wanted some fresh air." He sighed.

Bucky steadied his agitated body. The floorboards creaked under the heavy weight of his body and mind as he made his way back towards your bed. He clambered under the sheets, sliding his body next to yours

"Are you okay? You feel flushed," worry settled in your voice as you pressed a small hand against his chest, "your heart's beating like crazy."

Bucky let out a sigh.

"You had another nightmare." You stated, rather than questioning.

"He was back. The Winter Soldier. I was him again." He whispered.

You turned until you were face to face. Reaching out in the darkness, you pulled him in close until his face was buried in the crook of your shoulder. Bucky's arms fell limp in your lap as he just allowed you to hold him.

Your round eyes drooped with sympathy. "You know you don't have to keep anything from me. I'm always going to be here for you, Buck."

Salty tears collected in his tired eyes before silently glided down his face. His body went rigid in an attempt to mask his feelings. Bucky pressed his face harder into your mass of tangles, breathing in the light scent of shampoo. His shoulders jerked with every fallen tear. He always hated it when you saw him like this.

Sitting up in the bed, you cradled Bucky's contorted face in your palms. His bottom lip quivered as he was unable to supress his upset any longer. The tears broke out into continuous stream down his face. You wiped a thumb across the bags under his eyes that had accumulated from too many similar sleepless nights, sweeping away his tears.

"Oh, Bucky," you crooned, wrapping your arms around his shaking body, "talk to me about it."

"It was the night I killed Tony's parents." His voice cracked, muffling against your shoulder.

"What happened?"

"I was trying to get the Super Soldier serum. I was back on my old motorcycle, tracking them down. God, it felt so real. I could feel Howard's skull beneath my hand. It broke under my fist. His head cracked open and there was so much blood. I couldn't get it off of me. It was trapped in the hollows of vibranium in my arm. I swear, I could feel it seeping into my body. I still can." Bucky cried.

Tongue clicking, your kind heart broke for him. Rubbing a hand up and down his back, you allowed him to weep until there were no more tears left for him to cry. Bucky's sobs eventually faded into muffled sniffles.

"That wasn't you," you reassured, "you're not that person anymore."

"I can't escape him. The Winter Soldier - he's always going to be there." Bucky exasperated.

"He took up a big part of your life," you murmured softly, "he won't disappear from you straight away, you know that right? I can't pretend to understand what you went through in those times, but I'm always going to do my best. I'm always here to listen and support you as much as I possibly can."

Bucky's face fell and he confided in his love. "I'm sorry if it seems like I'm pushing you away. You shouldn't have to do this for me, and it makes me feel guilty."

Gently, you tilted his chin up to look into his scared eyes. "Do you remember those vows we made two years ago?"

"For better or for worse." He recalled. Like he could ever forget the happiest day of his life.

"Exactly. For better or for worse. That includes your past as The Winter Soldier. No matter how long ago it happened, these feelings are bound to surface, and we've just got to work through them when they do. It'll take time, but what's time to a 107-year-old super soldier?"

Bucky's dry lips curled up into a small smile for the first time since he'd awoken. You always knew exactly what to say to cheer him up, even in the worst of times.

“I love you." He breathed.

"I love you too," you leant back into the mattress on your side, opening your arms to him, "now, come here."

Bucky obliged, pulling the warm duvet around you both. You hooked an arm under his neck, draping the other over his side in a tight embrace. Your fingertips traced the raised lettering of his silver dog tags whilst you spooned his worn-out body. Running your other hand through the soft peaks of his hair, you uncombed the knots that had gathered with his constant tossing and turning. Bucky lulled in the comfort of your soothing movements, finding peace with the gentle motion. His breathing slowed as he finally succumbed to sleep. This time was much more pleasant than the last. You lazily peppered small kisses along the back of his shoulder and neck, until your lips hovered around his ear.

"Everything's going to be okay. You're going to be okay." You whispered.

"Whenever?" He mumbled.

"Wherever. We're meant to be together." You affirmed. "I'll be there."

"You'll be near?" Bucky begged.

"That's our deal, my dear."

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes angst #angsty!bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #mcu bucky

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ace-bucket · 7 months

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Buckytober Day 4: Despair

Buckytober Prompt List

#this one’s an angsty one #bucky barnes #buckytober chaos #marvel fanart #marvel #my art

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eclecticpatrolroadlawyer · 7 months

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Illicit affairs (chapter 2)

Chapter 1

Summary: Bucky and Y/n are in arranged marriage. Bucky is having an affair. This is all it is about... Let's see where Y/n's fate lies... Should we?

Pairings: Bucky x reader, Bucky x Dot ...

Genre: angst, affair, unrequited love

next day

Y/n's POV

The tea kettle's loud whistle pulled me back from my thoughts, and I remembered a moment—a moment that stung with disappointment.

As I took down the tea, the warmth of the steam evoked the chilling recollection of our wedding night. In the intimate dance of shared vows and whispered promises, Bucky's words had pierced the veil of anticipation. "Don't ever expect anything from this marriage," he had declared, the weight of his words settling like a heavy shroud.

The routine of making tea felt a bit sad, each step taking me back to that night. The sounds of cups and boiling water seemed to replay that moment when our hopes started to crumble.

As I lifted the cup, it held not just tea but also memories. The warmth of the liquid was mixed with the bitterness of that night, a night where promises felt broken. The smell of the tea carried the ghosts of our wedding, a reminder of a vow that seemed to fade, and the quiet acceptance of a marriage that had lost its sparkle.

I sigh when I see he's gone, probably meeting her under the excuse of jogging. Disappointment settles in my chest, and it feels like trust is slipping away. The air is thick with things we're not saying, and I take a deep breath to steady myself.

I decide to hit the supermarket while he is away, so I head to our shared bedroom to get ready.

half an hour later

at supermarket

In the bustling mart, my eyes catch a plushie perched high on the shelf. A whimsical desire takes hold, but I bite my lip, hesitating—I'm a grown woman, after all. Glancing around, I make sure no one's watching, and then, in a spontaneous moment, I decide to go for it.

Standing on my toes, I reach, my fingers brushing the soft plushie. Just as I stretch, someone's chest presses against my back. Startled, I turn to find a tall figure in a leather jacket, their presence both surprising and comforting.

Those green eyes meet mine, the contrast between the familiar and the unknown. Bucky's eyes held the depth of the sea, turbulent and mysterious, while this stranger's gaze resembled something serene about them, like a forest bathed in sunlight. It's a peaceful encounter, and for a moment, I forget the complexities that linger in the shadows. Unlike the stormy intensity of Bucky's ocean-blue gaze, these eyes carried a calm, a sense of peaceful allure that drew me in. With dark blonde hair and a hint of freckles, this stranger feels like a breath of fresh air, a divergence from the familiar.

Startled by the sudden closeness, I gasp and take an involuntary step back. My retreat, however, is met with a minor mishap—I lightly crash into the shelves. In that split second, just as I brace for impact, I feel the stranger's hand at the back of my head. It's a gentle touch, preventing my head from making contact with the shelves, even though the impact would have been light. The unexpected act of kindness leaves me momentarily flustered, caught between embarrassment and gratitude.

"I-I-..I'm sorry," I stutter, feeling the heat creeping up to my cheeks. Suddenly, words escape me, and I find myself at a loss, caught between embarrassment and an unspoken gratitude for the stranger's unexpected kindness.

"Are you okay?" I manage to ask, my heart beating a little faster. There's an unfamiliar feeling swirling within me, and for the first time in my life, it feels right.

The man chuckles, a light shake of his head accompanied by a crinkle near his eyes. He smirks, revealing a set of little white teeth, and speaks softly, "No worries, my lady… Actually, I should be the one asking you, are you okay, miss?" His green eyes lock onto mine, and a warmth spreads through me. I gulp down the breath that got punched out of me and find myself nodding, still unable to find words for the whirlwind of emotions. My brain insists it's wrong, but my heart seems to have its own answer ready.

In that fleeting moment, it feels like time stops. I find myself smiling, trying to take in every detail of his form—the way he styles himself, his unique way of speaking. It's as if everything about him becomes the focus in that small span of time—a love at first sight that catches me off guard.

8 months earlier

Dot's POV

"I can do it," I tell myself, taking a deep breath before entering the interview. My head held high, I step into the room, the confident click-clack of my heels echoing against the marble floor.

2 hours later

Walking through the park, I find a bench, sighing sadly as I take a seat. Muttering to myself, "Ugh, not again," I slump down, frustration evident in my sighs. "Why do I always get nervous?!" I groan, burying my head in my hands. "At this rate, I'll stay poor for the rest of my life," I whine, feeling overwhelmed.

Suddenly, a handkerchief touches me, and I look up to see a handsome man extending it towards me. His ocean-blue eyes draw me in, and for a moment, I'm lost, drowning in their depths. It takes me a few minutes to realize I've been staring, and I snap out of my thoughts, shaking my head. I smile at the man, stuttering, "Oh, I...th-thank you, sir. I'm sorry. You really didn't have to stop to help me, but thank you," I say, grateful and slightly flustered.

"Oh, my mother taught me better than to ever leave a crying woman or to ever make a woman cry," the man replies, smirking charmingly with a wink and adds "Especially when it's a beautiful woman like you, miss." As those words leave his lips, it's as if the man's looks, which were already a source of fluttering butterflies, now weave a spell on my heart. I feel a blush creeping up as I glance down, nodding shyly in acknowledgment. "Thank you," I murmur softly, accepting the handkerchief with a light touch, my heart still dancing to the charming melody of his words.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, not trying to be nosy, but may I know why you are crying, beautiful?" The man asks, taking a seat beside me while maintaining a respectable distance. His blue eyes, as usual, lock onto my brown ones, managing to steal my breath away. I maintain my composure, nodding as I reply, "Just knowing I messed up my job interview." Sighing, I look down, my fingers clenching the soft fabrics of the given handkerchief, my lower lip caught between my teeth as I reflect on the interview.

The sound of a clap pulls me out of my thoughts, and I find the man smiling at me. "Oo! I think I know how to bring up your mood…Wanna have a cup of coffee with me? I know the best place." I look at him, unsure, considering he's still a stranger. Before I can voice my thoughts, he continues, "Oh! Sorry…I forgot to introduce myself. I'm James… James Buchanan Barnes. In short, Bucky or Buck." He extends his hand as he introduces himself.

I smile involuntarily as I take his hand and shake it. "Pleasure to meet you, James. I'm Dottore… Just call me Dot," I introduce myself with a hint of warmth in my smile.

Third person's POV

Who would've thought that this random meeting could turn into something so special? It became a beautiful story, defying expectations and creating a connection that wasn't supposed to happen. From a simple park encounter, something magical unfolded—a tale of love that wasn't allowed, something forbidden, filled with both joy and heartbreak. In simple words, it turned into an 'Illicit Affair,' a story written by fate and emotions, painting a picture of love in unexpected places.

Bitter always follows the sweet,

especially when it comes to love.

Especially when it comes to forbidden love.

-Karina Halle

(WANNA GUESS THE GUY WHO Y/N MET AT THE SUPERMARKET?😆I GAVE ENOUGH HINTS...EVEN THOUGH THEY ARE HIS FACE FEATURES 🤭 BUT HE IS FROM SOMETHING SUPERNATURAL GENRE TV SERIES AND OLD ONE)

Note: Hey guys! Hope you like it. English is actually my second language so if there's any mistake you can inform me by messaging me privately. And PLEASE REBLOG AND DON'T STEAL MY WORK. Please like and comment too so, that I can know your views. Thank you for reading guys! Have a nice day and please comment if you wanna be tagged in.

Taglist: @angstysebfan @cjand10@learisa@themorningsunshine @binkszamsstuff

@dreamerglassesgirl @winterslove1917 @perfectpieslimeprune @nikkivillar @bethexo07 @vicmc624 @pattiemac1 @ozwriterchick

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cedarshade · 11 months

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drew the silly white boy

it's been a while old friend

#bucky barnes #winter soldier #silly white boy #silly horribly traumatized white boy #i am only able to read angsty winterfalcon slow burns atm

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lokidokieokie · 1 year

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Healing Hearts

Summary: your typical enemies to lovers plot, except it’s only one-sided… and Y/n's Bucky's physical therapist/nurse.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Nurse!Reader

Warning(s): brooding Bucky, mentions of physical therapy, other than that nothing else I can think of...

Bucky Barnes had always been a solitary man. He preferred to keep to himself and avoid unnecessary interactions with others. So when he woke up in a hospital room, with a perky nurse named Y/n assigned to him, he knew that he was in for a long and frustrating recovery.

From the moment Y/n walked into his room, she was like a ray of sunshine. She was constantly talking, asking him how he was feeling, and offering him unsolicited advice on how to speed up his recovery. Bucky found her incessant chatter annoying and intrusive, and he made it clear that he wanted her to leave him alone.

"You don't have to talk so much, you know," Bucky grumbled as Y/n tried to engage him in conversation.

She smiled brightly. "I'm just trying to keep you company, Mr. Barnes. I know it can be lonely in here."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I don't need company. I need to heal and get out of this hellhole."

Her smile faltered, and she looked hurt. But Bucky couldn't bring himself to care. He had more important things to worry about than hurting the feelings of a chatty nurse.

As the days went on, Bucky found himself becoming more and more irritated with Y/n. She was always there, hovering over him, and he couldn't escape her constant attention. He started to resent her presence, even though he knew that she was just doing her job.

One day, as she was helping him with his physical therapy exercises, she accidentally brushed against his metal arm. Bucky winced, and she immediately pulled back.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Barnes. Did that hurt?" she asked, her voice full of concern.

Bucky gritted his teeth. "Yeah, it hurt. What did you expect, with that clumsy move?"

Y/n looked at him with hurt in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm just trying to help you get better."

Bucky glared at her. "You're not helping. You're just getting in the way."

She sighed. "I know you don't like me very much, Mr. Barnes. But I'm just trying to do my job. I want to make sure you're getting the best possible care."

Bucky scoffed. "Yeah, right. You just want to make yourself feel better. You think that if you can fix me, you'll be some kind of hero."

Y/n looked hurt and shocked by his words. "That's not true, Mr. Barnes. I don't help people to make people think I'm the hero; that I'm some sort of saviour for humanity. All I want to do is help people, that's all."

Bucky shook his head. "Save it for someone who cares. I never needed or wanted your help."

As the days went on, Bucky's attitude towards Y/n didn't improve. But despite his constant complaints and snarky remarks, she never gave up on him. She was always there, by his side, offering him words of encouragement and support.

One day, as she was helping him with his physical therapy, Bucky felt a twinge of pain in his leg. He winced, and she immediately stopped what she was doing.

"Are you okay, Mr. Barnes?" she asked, her voice full of concern.

Bucky looked up at her, and for the first time, he saw her in a different light. He saw the kindness in her eyes, the determination in her voice, and the genuine care in her actions. He realised that he had been wrong about her all along. She wasn't annoying, she was kind and caring.

Bucky felt a strange feeling in his chest as he looked at her. He couldn't believe that he had been so blind to her kindness before. She had been nothing but patient and supportive towards him, even when he had been rude and ungrateful.

"I'm fine," he muttered, feeling embarrassed by his outburst. "Sorry for snapping at you."

She smiled warmly at him. "It's okay, Mr. Barnes. I understand that you're in pain, and it can be frustrating."

Bucky nodded, feeling grateful for her understanding. "I guess I've just been a bit of a jerk to you, haven't I?"

She shrugged. "It's okay. I know that you didn't mean it."

Bucky sighed, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. "Thanks for being patient with me, Y/n. I really appreciate it."

Y/n grinned at him. "Of course, Mr. Barnes. That's what I'm here for."

From that day on, Bucky's attitude towards her began to change. He found himself looking forward to her visits, and he even started to engage in conversations with her. They talked about everything from the latest movies to popular music trends, and Bucky found himself enjoying her company more and more.

One day, as she was helping him with his physical therapy, Bucky realised that he didn't want her to leave. He wanted her to stay with him, to keep talking to him, to keep being there for him.

"Y/n," he said suddenly, as she was packing up her supplies. "Do you want to grab a coffee or something after your shift ends?"

She looked surprised, but she smiled. "Sure, Mr. Barnes. I'd love that."

"Call me Bucky, doll."

Bucky grinned, feeling a strange warmth in his chest. He couldn't believe that he was actually looking forward to spending time with the woman he had once despised. But as he looked at her, he realised that she was more than just a nurse to him. She was a friend, a confidante, and maybe even something more.

As they walked out of the hospital together, Bucky felt a strange feeling of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he had finally found someone who could help him heal his damaged heart.

A/N who doesn't love the enemies to lovers trope? It's personally a favourite of mine 🥰

tagging the usual...please lemme know if you'd like to be added or removed.

🏷 @thewaithfuckingannoyme @evelyn-kingsley @moonlight-ee

#bucky barnes #james “bucky” barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #nurse!reader #enemies to lovers #angsty #fluffy #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #brooding Bucky #sebastian stan #sebastian stan character #Ella's Fics #winter soldier #the winter soldier #the weiner soldier

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babyjackdaniels · 6 days

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#fox writes imagines #marvel #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes imagine #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #james bucky barnes imagine #james barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader imagine #james bucky barnes x reader imagine #james barnes x reader imagine #angsty angst

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itneverendshere · 4 months

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runaway - bucky barnes au! (one shot! series)

warnings: angst!!!!!; little backstory and a little surprise??

parti i and ii: out of time; as it was

I remember the day it happened as if it were yesterday, the years not having drifted by and drained every emotion from my heart.

How foolish of me to think I ever stood a chance against the most powerful woman in the Kingdom. To go against the Queen meant meeting your doom. My love for her son, for Bucky, had blindsided me. It made me believe that she would understand, maybe not at first, but surely, if she saw how happy we were, she would do her best to respect her son’s wishes.

I was wrong.

Royalty loves their power and their choices more than they could ever love someone else. There’s no space for understanding, for caring. Everyone is a pawn in their game, and if you become a threat, you’ll be dealt with.

The day it happened, Bucky and I stole moments together in hidden corners, weaving dreams of a future where love conquered all. Little did we know that our happiness hung by the thinnest thread, a thread that would soon be violently severed.

It was during a lavish royal banquet that the Queen's displeasure was unveiled. The grand hall echoed with laughter and music; the air filled with the aroma of delicacies. Bucky and I exchanged stolen glances across the room, oblivious to the storm that was brewing.

How did I not see it?

As the night wore on, the Queen's icy gaze found its way to me. Her piercing eyes bore into my soul, stripping away the illusion of safety I had built.

She knew.

My heart sank as I realized I was no longer a dirty secret kept between the walls of the castle.

“Tell me, girl,” her voice haunts me to this day, even after her passing, “How long have you known?”

My eyes darted quickly in her direction, seeking to escape whatever punishment I knew she was about to bestow on me. “I’m—My sincerest apologies, my queen, I don’t know—”

“Surely, you’ve realized you’re with child?”

Her words hung in the air like a heavy fog, thick with a mix of shock and terror. The revelation struck me like a thunderbolt, leaving me momentarily paralyzed. My hand instinctively moved to my stomach, as if to shield the secret growing within me. The truth was laid bare, and the Queen's sharp eyes seemed to pierce through the layers of my being.

“I understand your education is…appalling. But surely, you’ve noticed your lack of monthly bleedings.”

I stammered, trying to find the right words that could soften the blow of this revelation, “I don’t understand—”

With a deliberate step, the Queen descended from the elevated platform and approached me, her royal gown trailing behind her like a river of silk. The weight of her disapproval bore down on me.

"Your naivety is astonishing," she hissed, her voice a low, venomous whisper. "You will deny that child belongs to my son as well?”

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. The Queen circled around me like a predator closing in on its prey.

I summoned whatever courage I could muster, standing tall despite the storm of emotions raging within me. "Your Majesty, my love is genuine. I never intended to disgrace the kingdom or your family. Bucky and I—we simply wanted to be together."

The Queen's cold laughter filled the hall, sending shivers down my spine. "Love?! You dare speak of love? You believe you’re special.”

“I don’t—”

“But you do! Look at yourself, girl, you dare to think my son would ever love a commoner such as yourself? You can barely write your name, let alone rule a Kingdom.”

The Queen's words were like a harsh wind that threatened to extinguish the flickering flame of hope within me. I felt the weight of her scrutiny, a heavy burden that threatened to crush me under its enormity.

“Any man is easily fooled by a pretty face and a pair of legs. James, as smart as he is, is still a man at the end of the day, is he not?”

I felt the hot sting behind my eyes, my breath caught in my chest. My shoulders trembled slightly, a subtle sign of the emotional turmoil within. Determination etched across my face, I fought valiantly to hold back the tears threatening to spill. My jaw tightened, and I blinked rapidly as if trying to push the emotions away. “Your son is a good man.”

“Yes, but he is only just a man. Not very smart creatures, are they? So easily played, so gullible, yet so… treacherous. You cannot possibly think you were the only girl in his bed.”

I knew his heart better than anyone; Bucky would have never hurt me. If there was one simple thing I was certain of, it was him.

"Your Majesty, please," I implored, desperation seeping into my voice. "If it's punishment you seek, punish me. Banish me from the kingdom, but spare the child.”

A cold smile played on the Queen's lips as she continued her circling, the predatory dance of a predator toying with its prey.

"Innocence is a rare commodity in the realm of politics. You, my dear, chose to dance with wolves, and now you must face the consequences."

My mind raced, desperately searching for a way to salvage the remnants of my shattered world. “I beg of you, please don’t do this!”

She halted in front of me, her gaze piercing through my defenses. "You will leave this kingdom at sunrise, never to return. Your presence will be erased from our history, and my son will be free to fulfill his destiny without the shackles of your deceit."

Leave? I’d barely left the castle, let alone the kingdom; it was all I ever knew. There was nothing for me outside these walls, no one to guide me or to come to my rescue.

“I have nowhere to go."

“And that is your doing. Your kind is not meant to challenge the order we've established. You’re a stain, a stain I will erase for the sake of the kingdom. If your child meets its death, it will be a deserving ending, better than what I would allow."

A profound sense of isolation engulfed me. The weight of impending exile pressed upon my chest, making it hard to breathe. “Bucky won’t allow this.”

“James will abide by his duty to the kingdom. He’ll have someone warming his chambers by tomorrow night.”

A surge of disbelief and betrayal coursed through me. The Queen's words cut deeper than any blade, and I struggled to comprehend the enormity of the situation. The love we had shared, the dreams we had woven together – all seemed to crumble into dust before my eyes.

"You underestimate the bond between a mother and her son," she continued, her voice dripping with malice. "He will move on, just as the kingdom will, once you are but a distant memory."

The reality of my impending exile and the Queen's ruthless intentions gripped my heart with a vice-like force. “He loves me.”

“He might, but he will certainly not once he learns you gave him up for a better life.”

“You would lie to him?”

A realization struck me like a lightning bolt – my love for Bucky had become a pawn in the Queen's game of power and control. She wielded it like a weapon, ready to sacrifice it for the sake of the kingdom's stability.

My fight wasn't just against her disapproval; it was against the very foundations of a society that deemed love a threat.

“I’d be doing him a favor. He’s currently out on a mission? By the time he comes back, you’ll be long gone.”

Her cruel indifference stung like a thousand needles. I stood there, my world unraveling, as the reality of her manipulation settled in.

A numbness crept over me, replacing the desperate fight with a resigned acceptance of my fate.

"Your Majesty," I spoke, my voice barely above a whisper, "I will leave at sunrise, as you command. But please, spare him the lie. Tell Bucky the truth about why I must go."

The Queen's cold gaze bore into mine, and for a moment, I glimpsed a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes. "You underestimate the power of a well-crafted narrative, my dear. Sometimes, a lie is more potent than the truth. It protects not just the kingdom but also the fragile hearts of those who must bear its burdens."

The truth, it seemed, was a luxury not meant for the likes of me.

She took everything from me that night. And although surviving in the cold, harsh world lying outside those walls almost killed me, it allowed me to protect the most important thing in my life.

My beautiful Becca.

#prince bucky #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x you #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky angst #james buchanan barnes #bucky x female reader #angsty

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lovelybarnes · 2 years

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aquariums and dogs- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: bucky is mad, reader flinches, hurt/comfort? some angst, definitely me projecting about: request! pf20 (too long hugs) + da7 (why did you flinch?")

an uncomfortable warmth prickles at bucky’s skin, the key in between his fingers cooling in speckles only up to his wrist before it dusts away. something low and frustrated crawls up his throat when he turns the key but doesn’t hear the click, stubbornly choosing to push at the door anyway, as if daring it to make due on its threat.

it does.

he rolls his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose as he jabs the key inside again, too rough, and it misses by a millimeter, leaving a scrape on the dark lock. with a sigh edged with a growl, he goes to try again, but the door swings open to you, confusion lining your features until they reach his.

“bucky!” you exclaim. it’s sweet and happy, your eyes bright. “you’re finally home.”

he grunts out your name in a terse greeting, pushing past the doorframe to get inside. you wait for the kiss he usually plants on your skin, brows joining when he only moves past you. you don’t say anything, shutting the door behind him.

“how was your day?” you ask.

“fine,” he answers curtly, avoiding your eyes. but you’re kind, too kind for him, and you frown, concern evident as you speak but don’t push. he shoves at the bag he dumps on the floor next to the couch with his foot.

“okay.” you bite your lip. “how was the new recruit? i know you weren’t excited about it but it’s never that bad.”

“fine,” he responds.

there are two little dips between your eyebrows, chin ducking. your eyes glaze a little in the way they do when you’re trying to figure something out—figure him out. it’s usually sweet, normally comforting the way you know him so well, but it presses on something sore in him today. it’s gone quickly enough that he can hold his tongue, be fair.

as if thanks to a switch, your face changes after a second, pinched features softening, the pulling urge to pry gone. you’ve figured it out.

“i went to the aquarium today again.” you’re talking for the both of you. it’s something he likes, usually. your voice is something grounding, rambling sweet enough to distract him so well he forgets his bad day. “they know me now. i’m a regular at the aquarium, can you believe it?”

he doesn’t answer. but he doesn’t usually.

“tony got me a pass for it last week. did i tell you?” you aren’t expecting an answer, but bucky feels annoyed at the pressure of the lilt in the question. “he lectured me about paying each time i go to his aquarium. his! sure, he owns it, but i doubt he can identify any of the animals.”

bucky’s face feels uncomfortable and hot, breaths coming out heavy as he tries to block out your voice. he reminds himself he loves you, you’re only trying to help. he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but the heat of his skin reddens his vision and blurs rational thought.

“i saw a golden retriever at the dog park and it came up to me. the owner introduced himself and now we have a walking buddy!”

“great.” it’s sarcastic, something worsening instead of getting better. but the vein of its cruelty is buried deep inside and you don’t seem to notice, taking the rise of his voice as improvement. it encourages you.

“tomorrow’s my last day off. i’m glad nat convinced me to take the last two even if i was feeling better. maybe this convinces me to retire.” it’s a joke and you laugh, but it ticks him off as much as he doesn’t want it to. your voice is still soft but it feels too much like the gross side of honey, trapping oxygen in his throat and coating his teeth in nectar.

“i found a new recipe—the one i told you about last week, and i finally stopped procrastinating and—”

“stop,” bucky demands roughly, cutting you off. it’s not loud, but its surprising sternness reaches into the crevices of the room, his frustration carrying weight. nearly threatening, curt, demanding. bucky doesn’t speak to you that way.

you stop immediately, freezing in place. the moment he catches sight of your widened eyes, large pupils glued to the floor, he wants to stop, to cool down and take a deep breath, but the honey has deprived him of oxygen for a little too long. “can you please—” his mouth contorts in an ugly attempt to calm himself down. “just be quiet? i’m tired. i had a long day, i don’t need to hear about stupid aquariums and dogs.” his words get more rushed as he continues, low in something threatening you’ve never heard before.

he watches your parted lips as you breathe, caught in surprise before you suddenly remember he was talking to you, and you nod your head a little, chin bobbing and an apology tumbling from your lips as if on instinct.

“i’m sorry, yeah.” you’re trying to part your anger and your anxiety, but the latter seems to win anyway. you swallow, struggling to meet his eyes, and let air out through your nose, long and shuddering as you turn. you’re stiff as you grab your phone, walking toward the hallway. “if you need anything…” you stop yourself as if remembering how grating your voice seems to be for him right now, biting your lip to keep back more of the kindness you found so vital.

you step away without another word, leaving bucky in silence and a sick self-satisfaction with it. his shoulders drop and he closes his eyes, sighing deeply. it doesn’t take long for the fulfillment to feel sour, his mind glimpsing back to the contortion of your features.

soon, it envelops him in something sweaty and awful, his frustration clearing away to miss the loveliness of your presence, of your sweet rambles and excerpts of your day.

he feels foul, the words he’d spat feeling like venom on his tongue.

running a hand over his face, he squeezes his eyes shut, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. he curses under his breath, the guilt all-encompassing and he’s ready to beg on his knees for your forgiveness.

he lugs himself to his feet, lips tensing when he glances at the cookies you left on a plate for him. he plucks one with care, placing it in his palm before heading to your shared room. his free hand tries to be gentle when it knocks on the door, falling away when he pushes it open without meaning to. he calls your name softly in the dark silence of the room, watching the shadows of the thin curtains dance against the floor.

your figure is nowhere to be seen. it makes him nervous.

he steps backward and stares at the door for a second, thinking logically before giving in to his hyperactive, guilty mind. he turns nearly robotically but it’s hurried in a soft panic, knocking on the guest door. he finds himself hoping you aren’t in there, somehow blanketed by the darkness in your shared room, but your shuffling and subsequent opening of the door crush the unlikely hope. your eyes are rimmed red, lashes wet, and the way you stare up at him is hard, only wavering by your glossy eyes.

“i’m sorry,” spills out of his mouth, wanting to push the crack of the door wider but instead he settles with apologetic eyes and tapping his tingly fingers anxiously against his leg. “i had a long day and i shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“no you shouldn’t have,” you finally say. his lips twist when he hears the gravel of past tears. “i was only trying to help. if you had just told me you needed silence, i would’ve left you in silence.”

“i know.” he sighs. “i know, i’m sorry.’

he can hear the toe of your foot as you push it against the floor, your sniff of decision as you push open the door. something rumbles from deep in his chest, relieved as he opens his arms and pulls you into his embrace. he apologizes again against your hair, rubbing his nose against the crown of your head. you dig your own into the warm crook of his neck.

like butter, the hard weight of his bad day softens atop his shoulders, the soft exhale he lets out much lighter. he thinks he should have just asked you for a hug.

“i forgive you,” you mumble. “just don’t do that again.”

“i won’t,” he promises.

he has another long day a week later. it’s particularly taxing after the sweet days he’s had beforehand, where he’s repeated the importance to be patient like a mantra, even when it isn’t needed. it’s important enough for him to not forget but the possibility of it makes him nervous.

he steps on your welcome mat heavier than he was in the morning, staring at the familiar grain of your door, the angry haze familiar. it serves to ground, if even for a second, and he remembers to breathe.

you’re inside, he recalls, with your soft skin and gentle smile. he feels better when he remembers it.

he’s still gloomy when he enters, but it’s different, mediated. he wants to hear your voice so he doesn’t float away like a balloon, lost in the wide expanse of encompassing exhaustion.

he feels your eyes momentarily on him when he shoves off his boots at the entrance. he shuts his eyes and frowns at the long ache it comes with, as if he hadn’t done so in hours. a grunt slips past his lips. the chime of your voice when you chirp your hello eases something inside him.

“how was your day?” you ask from behind the wall of the kitchen, your attention on something in your hands.

“not good,” he tells you, bending down to push off the boot that won’t come off.

you look up from your candy wrapper, eyeing him worriedly. “i’m sorry.” you’re more tentative now, lips parted as if you want to say something more but decide against it. he can tell what it is, though.

he walks over to the kitchen and gives you a smile, albeit tight, reaching to take the candy from your fingers. with little issue, he tears a small triangle from a corner, handing it back. it’s an assurance, an olive branch for something that will never happen again.

“bought some more?” he asks. it’s quiet and rough but it tells you what he means it to.

you’re trying not to eye him too carefully as you nod. “saw that dog on my way to the store.” there’s something hesitant in your tone that he doesn’t like, holding you back, but a small smile makes its way to your face when you continue. “he recognized duck and i before his owner could, i think. we were on our way to the—” you stop suddenly.

it’s a moment before bucky offers a conclusion, “the aquarium?”

it’s not said meanly, but you tense up as if he’d meant it like so either way. only for a second, a slight flinch before your fingers dance as if in a reminder to send movement back up to your limbs. bucky is horrified.

“why did you flinch?” it’simmediate but hesitant.

your lips twist to the side, socked feet tapping the floor silently. “sorry.”

he repeats himself, eyes wide. he steps toward you but stutters to a halt.

“aquariums and dogs are stupid. i didn’t—sorry.”

“they’re not stupid,” bucky assures. “you like them and i love hearing about them.”

“i talk about that all the time. you must be tired. ‘have more important things to talk about.” you wring your hands together. gently, bucky separates them. you smooth your pants down with sweaty palms.

“i don’t want to talk right now,” bucky admits kindly. “i want to listen to you. anything you want to talk about.” then, “including aquariums and dogs.”

you look up at him through your lashes. “i don’t want to annoy you.”

“y’couldn’t,” bucky tells you honestly. “can i hug you?”

you dump yourself in his arms before you can finish nodding. “i’m sorry you had a bad day,” you say, muffled in his shirt.

he mumbles something like not your fault into your hair, before pulling away to look at you. “so what’d you see at the aquarium?”

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ohbuckysmetalarm · 7 months

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Official Masterlist

This blog is 18+ only and warnings are listed above each story. Proceed with discretion. Thanks! 😘

Key:

FLUFF: 🧸 Smut: 🔥 Angst: 💔

BUCKY BARNES:

One shots-

Switching Positions (Switch!Bucky x Switch!Reader) 🔥🧸

Summary: You can’t help your need to control every so often…

I Still Hate You 🔥

Summary: Eight hours in a cramped car, two people who hate each other, and one friend absolutely over their crap. Luckily, Bucky knows how to get rid of your bratty attitude.

Within These Walls (Roommate!Bucky x reader) 🔥

Summary: Bucky hears you every night… he’s had enough

Let Me Spell it Out for You- (Coming Soon.) 🔥🧸

Beg for Me- (Coming Soon.) 🔥

In My Head- (Coming Soon.) 💔

Comfort- (Coming Soon.) 💔🧸

Series-

Champagne and Sunshine:

Part 1 🔥

Part 2 🔥

Part 3 🔥

Never be You- (Coming Soon.) 🧸🔥💔

Headcanons/Asks-

Random Headcanons (SFW) 🧸🧸🧸

SEBASTIAN STAN:

One Shots-

Jealousy, Jealousy- (Coming Soon.) 🔥

One and Only- (Coming Soon.) 🧸🧸🧸

MAX BURNETT:

One Shots-

Tell Me You’re Mine- (Coming Soon.) 🔥🧸

Series-

The Con- (Coming Soon.) 💔🧸🔥

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veltana · 5 months

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I'm having trouble to decided what fic to work on, so let's have a vote! There are snippets under the cut! I'm not promising fast or soon though just keep that in mind 😅

Also none of these are edited so there's going to be mistakes!

Accidental pregnancy

One of the tests indicated 4 weeks and that is still early. You can end it and no one will know. But this isn’t just about you, because you know there is only one potential father to the growing mass of cells currently developing in your uterus. What would Steve Rogers want? And after sleeping with him regularly for the last few months you think you know. The hand is still over your stomach where nothing is visible yet but you know it's in there. A child. A baby. Steve's baby. That pushes you over and you start to uncontrollably sob, curling up on the cold bathroom floor.

Everyone is going to think you tricked him, that this wasn't an accident, and that you're actually just another crazy Captain America fan who got into his bed and decided to snare him while you were at it. How are you going to convince everyone, and convince him, that it wasn't like that? You never miss a pill, haven't for years. Can you prove that in any believable way?

Forgotten birthday

When the cab drops you off all of the bad feelings come rushing back.

It's not a big deal, you tell yourself for the nth time. You've only been dating for a few months. It's your problem that you made such a big deal out of it. You should have just told him, not expect him to remember it.

The room you share is cold and dark. Clearly he's still out. You clean off your makeup and put on your comfy clothes. But when you sit down on the couch and pull the blanket in your lap you can't keep the tears at bay. You honestly thought he'd be different and it's your fault for expecting so much. All the books you've read have set unrealistic standards for men. This is just how it is. Bucky is just a regular person with super serum in his veins.

#veltana rambles #poll #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #both are kind of angsty

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year

Note

your pegging fic with bucky was SO FUCKING GOOD. can you please do another one?? like im literally so into it i was drooling the whole time

as for plot, just making him cry again LOL and overall just having him be a mess because

we love that for him.

thank you thank you thank you!

Bro I am so sorry I have no clue how this escalated. You have another free Bucky railing fic that doesn’t include my brain going wild. But he do be crying and a complete mess. Thanks for asking and I hope you are at the LEAST entertained!

Goes along with Praise Kink

Shadowplay - Joy Division

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3,882

Tags: TW‼️WHUMP, DEAD DOVE, UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS, OFF SCREEN SUI‼️, Everyone is crazy, the reader is having a Hydra Life Crisis, Lots of ass play, pegging(m!receiving), fem dom, reader is ace spectrum, Bucky is a crybaby overstimulated touchstarved Angel, praise kink, slight dacry, angst ANGST ANGSTTTTT, switching pov’s like me in bed, they do a little Russian it’s called they do a little Russian, Hydra!Reader

A/N: idk man I’m just a vessel, also just liked the idea of there being a lead up to Buckbuck being like I Cannot Compute Anymore You Assholes then his boyfriend Steve saves the day💞 HC: Pierce likes Bucky be in emotional pain so sends him to her thinking he’ll kill the reader. Translations under cut

Russian translations: Милый (dear), блять (bitch/whore), глупая девчонка (foolish girl), Малыш (baby/bb boy), Умница (good boy), да (yes), хуй (cock), Трахни меня (fuck me), командир (commander), Спасибо (thanks/ty), зимний солдат (winter soldier)

To the center of the city where all roads meet, waiting for you.

To the depths of the ocean where all hopes sank, searching for you

The asset knew he had to report to his Komandir. That’s what happened every mission. They tried to tell the asset that Rumlow was his handler now. Rumlow was not his handler. Komandir was. But she had been gone for some time and he needed her back. The strike team leader was reckless and too bloodthirsty, not calculating enough. The asset could not say that out loud.

He trudged through dark alleys and poorly lit streets, rain pelting down on his leather tactical gear.

Nice Komandir. She was nice. The asset had unregulated emotions for her. He needed maintenance badly. First, the asset must give the mission report to her. The fake handler would be monitoring for the asset now, with their dogs and strike team.

Strike team would not find the asset. He will return himself after reporting to Komandir. The asset got intel on her whereabouts. She was relocated in New York under a new alias. The asset could almost smell her, see her, if he focused enough.

His boots slapped through a puddle before launching up a fire escape. The rain poured down harder— threatening to fill up the alley like an ocean. The asset would swim until his lungs gave out. The Director couldn’t take her away, putting her in an swarm of people or in the deepest cave. Because the asset would find her. She had to be locked up. She would never leave the asset.

They took her— he’d decided earlier after reporting to the pretender. The asset’s morale was sinking fast under Rumlow. That’s when the Director informed the asset on his Komandir. The Director had waved a hand dismissively, “Go find her then, do what you must and come back.” He didn’t understand but went out anyways.

I was moving through the silence without motion, waiting for you.

In a room with a window in the corner, I found truth.

Soldat climbed higher and higher until he was outside her window. He’d memorized it over and over and over and over. The asset grappled onto the thin balcony with a jump, using the moment to swing himself onto the platform. His covered eyes gathered the limited surroundings. A couple of flowerpots, an ashtray on the windowsill, and her familiar face gaping in the window.

The asset wanted to weep, kneel, receive her perfect touch. The asset only got stabs, bloody thrusts, and punches between his bloodshot eyes. Then wiped and put on ice. Although he hadn’t been put on ice much since transitioning to the United States. They had lots of people to get rid of before that. So the Director wiped him more often.

The window opened and her familiar rasp rang out in the rainy night, “Sweet soldier. You must be cold. Come in.” The asset nodded dumbly, shoving himself precariously through the window, contorting his broad shoulders and thighs to get through. Inside was a silent, thinly furnished room.

Cigarette stubbed beside the couch, the television playing something. His blues caught on a blanket and book, her handgun laid on top. Air blew the curtains softly from the window in the corner. The asset whimpered, “Where did you go Komandir?,” he fell to padded knees, “I cannot comply when Rumlow doesn’t have clearance for mission report.”

She cooed and stood tall as always, only clad in a thin gown. Komandir’s lips turned down at the mention of Rumlow. Her hands brushed his cheeks. Off came the goggles, then the mask. The asset’s wide blue eyes followed her obediently. One of her calloused thumbs strummed against his stubbled jaw. She said, “Sweetheart, I’m not officially your handler, not your Komandir anymore.”

He nuzzled into her hand, lips already wobbling. Why would they replace the best Komandir? She learned from Vasily Karpov, Vasily from…from. He couldn’t remember— there had been so many. One that smelled of aftershave and two older men with glasses that made him feel very cold.

She sighed, “They said I wasn’t worth their time sweet boy. I had to go.” The asset believed her, Komandir always told the truth. She knelt down and smiled, tears welling in her eyes. “You’re a star, precious, you shine so bright that not everyone can keep up with it.”

He replied, a ghostly whisper if anything, “The left me to Agent Rumlow. You couldn’t stay under him?”

Fear laced her stern features for the first time. The asset grew uneasy. His programming was screaming, “Maintenance! MAINTENANCE!” Her heart rate spiked rapidly while the agent fumbled for words. He gripped her wrist to bark, “You defected then! You defected like a coward and left me,” a sob tore his throat, “with them!”

His silver hand wrenched Komandir‘s other wrist towards him, her grunting in pain. Her breasts heaved as she panted. The asset glared her down, so many emotions swirling he felt he may explode. She lied to him. Why would she lie to him? Her star.

“Soldat. Status Report please,” she quavered.

Soldat’s tight shoulders relaxed minutely as he listed off, “Physical functions one-hundred percent. Maintenance required as soon as possible. Confusion, dangerously elevated norepinephrine, panic, traumatic response, and- and-,” he bit his tongue to stare. Komandir’s face was wrought with grief.

She murmured, climbing into the asset’s lap, “I need you to slow down comrade. It’s just you and me right now,” she pet his long locks to elicit that chest deep purr, “Can I tell you what happened while I get you clean sweet boy?”

The asset’s lids dropped at her soft body, familiar scent, and wise words. His plump lips trembled while whining, “P-please. I-I’m becoming…defective.”

“I know,” she soothed, “I know.”

In the shadowplay, acting out your own death, knowing no more.

As the assassins all grouped in four lines, dancing on the floor.

As the former agent pet her broken star her chest constricted with emotions. Pierce knew. The bond between asset and handler had grown entirely too close. He’d spat at her, “That thing is a weapon, not a puppy for you to coddle.” She wanted to tell the Director that a person could only go so long under this treatment before snapping completely. Render them useless to the plan. Whatever that may be.

Surprisingly Pierce had demoted her down to the lowest strike team squadron and elevated the prick Rumlow to be the next handler. The Director’s shiny teeth looked like fangs as he spoke, “I’ll keep you around because of your…skills. Any infractions you’re dead.”

So the former Komandir was a grunt again, under Strike Team Omega. They mainly went around sabotaging small terrorist cells. Soldat whined under her hand again, the woman tilting his wide eyes up. She frowned. Poor baby looked so broken, so lost. He had no clue he was going to leave here without his Komandir.

“Take off your gear, precious,” she ordered.

The Russian divested soldat of his guns and knives, laying them out on a neat line. She asked, “How much are they putting you on ice sweet boy?” His blues grew disoriented as he thought. Mechanical as ever, Soldat’s hands divested his leather top.

“Not much. More wipes. Something is coming.”

Something was coming. Maybe not now but in a couple of years. Pierce had something big. There was a reason scientists were holed up in one the hangars, crews building day and night. So they were over-using the soldier to make sure nothing crept out.

She thumbed the seam of scars along the asset’s prosthetic, the other’s hands jolting at the sensation. His pretty lips opened to whimper. Komandir unbuckled his belt and hummed, “They demoted me. I was with a lower strike team. I couldn’t take it anymore. W-without you I cannot provide anything useful for the greater cause.”

The woman remembered her last point. They were in Zagreb celebrating after a arms dealing commune was torn to shreds. Instead of going home, the team helped themselves to the women in trafficking. Assassins, warriors— dancing fools with these broken women. The former handler left and didn’t look back. She knew nothing. Hydra had a purpose once. It grew rancid just like everything else.

And with cold steel, odor on their bodies made a move to connect.

But I could only stare in disbelief as the crowds all left.

Alone in the world again. The Komandir wandered and wandered. Somehow always getting roped back into the underbelly of civilization. She told the silent asset about it. He seemed just as lost contemplating free will.

“I joined a couple of syndicates, former KGB, some widows. I moved around the states and just found no one had a goal. I just try to get by now, my sweet. It’s not pretty out there.”

She wiped her nose, “And to think I’d always dreamed of having you to myself forever. Sick. Selfish.”

I did everything, everything I wanted to.

I let them use you for their own ends.

Tears welled in Komandir’s eyes. She pulled his huge frame close and cried into greasy hair. “I should have got you back, kept you safe, get Hydra back to stage one,” her voice cracked, “I don’t know. I just ran and left them to break you down even more. I-I-I-I’m so sorry Милый, I’m so sorry.”

The Russian knew how this would end. She would die and be a remnant of something unattainable. Perfect was unattainable. Soldat was the closest she would witness and that’s enough. She stroked his wide back with gentle circles, sobs dying.

Soldat’s voice was a dull rasp in the pitch room.

“What would you have me do, Komandir?”

He looked so hopeful. Rage filled her heart, cracking and blistering from exposure. Run with me, start anew, kill that блять Pierce. The woman sat back and put on a smile. She purred, “I would have you relax and let me take care of you, sweetness.”

The asset nodded, unlacing his boots, plates in his arm clacking and humming. The woman thumbed his delicate nose, the thin skin under a once bright blue eye. She whispered, “Such a pretty soldat, perfect soldat.” Silent tears slid down her face. Vasily was probably in a hideout shaking his head. глупая девчонка.

She said, “I’m going to get the bath running, just lay your clothes out and join me,” she shushed his panicked noise, “Just around the corner Малыш.” She padded through the small apartment, ignoring the state of it. Soldat likely cared.

The former agent ran it scalding hot, throwing some lavender in there. She readied a towel and fluffed it. The bath tub was small, but she wanted to pamper her perfect star anyways. She worried her lip, he seemed to be cracking, bad. Too much time off ice and repeated wipes have not been studied. Komandir had never heard him speak so much, all that raw emotion.

Soldat’s hulking frame shadowed the doorway. Knelt down the Komandir beckoned him over. He gracefully clambered into the tub, sitting down with a grimace.

“Too hot?”

“No. I like it hot,” he murmured.

Her eyes roved the beauty of his body, stopping on heated cheeks, full lips, bulky chest, and that beautiful cock. It laid on his belly, a deep red and leaking. His balls were tight but she could see the stress, the heaviness of it. Supersoldiers needed to cum much more than the average man.

The woman grabbed a cup and dunked it to fill it up. Her other hand cupped his knee, thumbing the soft inside. Soldat whimpered again, dark lashes fluttering. She poured the water over his oily dark hair, doing it again until it was soaked.

“Lean up baby.”

She poured some cheap shampoo into her palm, lathering it up. The asset groaned deep in his chest at the contact— nails scritch-scratching away the oils and dirt. He stated, “I’m not supposed to remember you.” His watchful orbs looked up.

“You’re not supposed to remember that you’re not supposed to remember, Умница.”

He bit down on his lip and warbled, “I’m s-scared Komandir. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

You’re falling apart.

“Shh, baby, in the moment now, in the moment.”

He stilled but Soldat’s eyes had that ingrained wide-eyed fear. She washed the suds out and combed through the tangles, earning some pretty sighs. The Komandir found herself lecturing, “What the Americans do not get…you have to make sure your weap- agents are clean and cared for.”

She hissed while scrubbing his wide shoulders and neck, littered with yellowed bruises, “They don’t take care of their prized fist, that’s why poor soldat is feeling down.” He nodded along, shoulders relaxing minutely. Komandir washed down his arms, digging out the blood encrusted into the plates.

She did the rest methodically: Wash the feet, move down to the toes, calves, thighs. Stop. Soldat was mewling and squirming, face trained on her. His lips wobbled, brow furrowed in agony. The asset whined, “Komandir, please, need your touch, help me.” She ran a hand slowly down his trembling belly, palming the swollen cock.

“Soon, Малыш,” she promised.

His bitten lips pouted, but her good boy always listened. She stated, “I was blind that Hydra would keep the original goal alive. I felt more confident leaving knowing that. But I was wrong, sweet baby. You’re the key and they don’t know it.”

Komandir pulled out a straight razor and shaving cream. She shaved his stubble while continuing, “You will be the one to change Hydra. Burn it into the ground or rise above the sham it’s become. That’s your reality, and the time will come. You must not fail now dear soldat.”

He steeled himself, relaxing under orders, vague as they are. She knew Soldat knew he had to wait for the perfect moment. The brunette thanked her in the softest voice when she wiped off his newly cleaned cheeks. The woman cooed, “Never seen a prettier baby. Turn over so I can get everything.”

By the time she’d cleaned and prepped the soldier out he was a mess. He’d come once already, scrabbling at the tile and wailing in ecstasy. Poor thing wasn’t done. Now dry, her perfect soldier rutted against her soft, soft thigh. His pink lips were sealed around her nipple, whining and suckling.

She pulled at his long locks and said, “As a gift,“ she tapped his cleft chin, “Do you want your Komandir to fuck your sweet hole?” The Russian wouldn’t mention it was a final gift. He babbled in multiple languages but the message was clear— fuck me. She smiled down at his teary cheeks and cooed, “Eager baby. I’ll show you what it’s like to be fucked. Not like those jackasses.”

“Mmmh-pleaseee,” the brunette wantonly begged. He rutted against the bedding while the Komandir moved to a chest in the room. The asset drooled, spreading his thick thighs to draaag his achy cock against the too-soft material— eliciting an annoyed whine.

“Almost there my star,” she laughed. There were some noises of clipping and leather. To their ears it sounded like a gun belt or harness of sorts.

She clicked the heavy black silicone into place. There was no other side to stimulate the woman. Same as it always was, it was her precious boy’s pleasure to take, not her own.

Ambling over to the bedside she asked, “Front or back sweetheart?”

“Front, front, front!,” he babbled.

“Okay. When you see me and change your mind just say so baby.”

He made a confused gesture but flipped onto his back, exposing that pretty pink cock again. Drool actively collected on his plump lips at the sight of Komandir’s strap. He obviously had never seen anything like it. Scarred hands gave it a slow stroke, fingers barely able to meet around the girth.

“Well?”

The asset whined her name thinly, begging for her to take him. She climbed upon the bed one knee at a time, hand on the cock, eyes heady and glued on the trembling soldier. She purred, “Are you sure you want it? Reaaaally think baby boy, there’s freedom of choice under all that mess.”

She tried to play it across seductively but the true meaning was laid bare. Soldat’s eyes flicked about the heavy silicone, throat bobbing in anticipation. He began to speak, faltered, frustrated tears welling up. Finally with his head down the soldier croaked, “Please, want you, please.”

“I’ve got you.”

To the center of the city in the night, waiting for you.

She stripped off the gown and tossed it to the dingy carpet. The woman crawled between his legs and kissed a path up to his waiting mouth, puckered tightly. He was vibrating with need, huge arms circling around Komandir’s slim waist. He closed the gap, licking into her open lips.

The woman seized Soldat’s throat with a loose grip, just to stabilize the inevitable freefall. The brunette’s lips were insistent, demanding— like he was trying to take her soul. She moaned lowly, twisting around his probing tongue easily, lips wetly smacking. She nipped his lip playfully, squeezing his veined throat.

The soldier cried out, teeth gnashing against hers as he kissed and kissed and sucked. The soft skin of Komandir’s belly rubbed against Soldat’s achy need, sending pin pricks of pleasure to overstimulated nerves. When she suckled on his tongue, the titanium arm shifted with a shrill whine.

She pulled back breathless, patting the hand once round Soldat’s throat on his sweaty chest. He mewled in frustration, rutting his cock into the air, no release on the horizon. The Russian cooed, “More kisses soon needy boy. You want my cock in you, да?”

Soldat nodded, tears dripping like a leaky faucet down his red red cheeks. The assassin spread his legs wide open, tucking heels against the meat of his ass. Komandir crooned, “Look at you, precious thing, all open and ready for my хуй.”

“Трахни меня! Fuck me!,” he sobbed.

She shushed him with a slight slap to a muscular thigh, wrapping them up around her hips afterward. A once-manicured hand guided the fake cock to the asset’s pink hole, glistening and ready with slick. He babbled, “Oh please- need it, командир, please!”

Without a pause she jabbed the entire length into his eager ass, pretty soldat crying in relief, ripping his big hands through the shitty sheets. She thrust into him deeper, before pulling out with a lurid squelch, then diving back in twice as hard.

The Komandir poured all over her anger, heartache, stupid stupid love, agony into the brutal fucking. The asset’s brown locks bounced around as he drooled and moaned like a slip of a thing getting her pussy split in half. He was in paradise. The woman grunted, smoothing her palms up his ridged torso, “Singing so sweetly baby, you feeling good star?”

“Y-yes,” he choked on his spit, “Gonna cum!”

She cocked her head in surprise, not missing a beat, “So soon, after I milked you out in the tub too? Greedy babe.” More tears leaked at the humiliation, the asset pulling her on top of his writhing body. He nuzzled into her sweaty hair, panting, “Mmmfuck, more, always more, never enough from you Komandir.”

Finding her own eyes growing wet the woman fucked him harder, shaking hand rolling his still swollen balls around. The asset mewled in her hair, getting it sticky with spit. His back was tightly arched as he clung to her. Behavior one wouldn’t see out of a six foot, two-hundred something pound killing machine.

He whimpered, “M’cumming, cumming for you, fuck!”

She seized his newly shaved chin and pressed damp foreheads together. The Russian breathed, “C’mon then, paint me up my precious. Good boys like you get to cum all they want.” He fell apart beautifully, all violent twitches of big muscles and the bloody biting of lips. Cum plastered her belly and even tits. The asset cried for his Komandir, trembling as she licked his tears up.

A feeling of time slipping struck the woman in the chest. In a fervent frenzy she coaxed him onto his belly, the soldier still dazed from the earlier release. The woman propped his ass up, praising the greatest creation of Hydra through her tears.

Die between his beautiful thighs.

She slid back into his sore hole, thumbing around the rim as she watched the stretch. Soldat snuffled, “Спасибо, Спасибо, Спасибо.” The brunette rutted back onto her brutal thrusts, bracing himself on his arms. Constant noises dried his mouth out but everything felt so good. His Komandir, back again to take care of the asset.

The Komandir was drilling his sweet spot dead-on now, moaning softly in delight. She pulled at her precious baby’s engorged cock and cooed in his ear, “Taking me so well, that’s my boy. I love you. You’re going to do big things,” he sobbed and spread out sluttily, “Bigger than me, Rumlow, Director, the whole lot of them.”

The asset was mewling and babbling, nose runny from how overwhelmed his body was. Everything felt like it was getting fucked on his touchstarved body. The cum getting forced out of his balls was spreading all over Komandir’s bed. But he was listening to her words, trying to, hard when he was about to explode.

“Promise me зимний солдат,” she whispered, “Promise me that when the chance comes you take it, okay sweetling? Do it for your Komandir who loves her star very much.” The woman couldn’t hide the crack in her voice at the end. Those gorgeous blues gazed at her like she was good, whole, someone who hung the moon and stars.

“глупая девчонка”, Vasily would say.

The woman kissed his blubbering lips to stop herself from crumpling. He panted, “I promise, I promise Komandir. I will cuh-comply.” He was puffing out weak cries now, twisting underneath her clumsy strokes. She swiped her thumb over the red hot tip of the asset’s cock and watched him spill for a third time, crumpling with a cracking wail. Only a bit spurted out this time.

The Komandir pressed her lips to the center of his spine, chest heaving. She sounded like a broken machine at this point. “Promise me, promise me precious star.” He wept, “I promise, I do, I love you, always follow my Komandir.”

The once prideful woman knew that was the last words her boy should utter. She eased out of his overtaxed hole, shushing him and holding on to that sweet little mewl for dear life. She took off the harness, aware of the soldier waiting. The woman would cuddle up for now, letting the soldier gather her up in his warm embrace. She snuggled tight, imprinting this moment into her soul.

His breath petered out into slow puff, mumbling ‘love you’ sleepily. The Komandir slid from his embrace, padding to the kitchen. Her heart was eerily calm. She knew this had to occur for the greatest creation of Hydra to rise above. His pain would fuel the fire of the future.

She scrawled out a letter, sweet as could be, apologizing for everything. The woman knew she deserved death. She wouldn’t make him do it. Ripping off the Hydra insignia necklace she kept on her neck was placed on the letter.

The woman moved the the couch and grabbed the gun. Shift, click, pray for me soldat, pull.

To the center of the city in the night, waiting for you.

#READ THE TW AND TAGS #answered asks #bucky is touch starved #ws bucky gets his ass rammed #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #hydra trash party #hydra reader #angsty angst angst #songfic

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winterdadandspiderson · 2 years

Text

Peter, confused: What now?

Bucky: Oh nothing. You just remind me of someone, that's all.

Bucky, fondly: He was fearless too. And stubborn.

Peter: I'm not stubborn.

Bucky: You are.

Peter: I'm not!

#anyway how about some wholesome/sort of angsty stuff after not posting for a while #buckys referring to steve btw if you couldnt tell #marvel #mcu #peter parker #bucky barnes #incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect mcu quotes #incorrect quotes #winterdad #spiderson #source: obi wan kenobi

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eclecticpatrolroadlawyer · 7 months

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Illicit affairs (chapter 1)

Summary: Bucky and Y/n are in arranged marriage. Bucky is having an affair. This is all it is about... Let's see where Y/n's fate lies... Should we?

Pairings: Bucky x reader, Bucky x Dot ...

Genre: angst, affair, unrequited love

'Love' The word floats between all of us on a soft gust of air. 'Deep, abiding, unconditional love. You want it so much you're willing to live for it' Most people think the greatest sacrifice they can make is to die for something. They are wrong.

The truest act of love someone can make is to live for something- to allow it to consume you and turn you into a version of yourself you never recognize.

It is a tale of 4 souls twisted and helpless in their love lives. It is a narrative that contains some heartbreaks, the bitter taste of unreciprocated affection, and one that dared not to unveil itself- which takes courage to love for so long from a distance.

This is a story where one soul offered everything at love's altar, a vulnerable sacrifice, while another callously exploited that very vulnerability, sowing discord where passion once blossomed...

Y/n's pov

The room feels colder than usual as I stare out the window, my heart sinking with every passing minute. The anticipation is suffocating, and my patience wears thin. "Again," I whisper, the word heavy with disappointment.

I watch the street below, searching for a familiar figure that is yet to appear. The seconds drag on, and my anxiety intensifies. The lump in my throat grows, making it harder to swallow. A sigh escapes me, a mixture of frustration and hurt.

"He is late again."

I can't help but clench my fists on the curtains, the fabric bunching in my grip. The emptiness in the room echoes the ache in my chest. Tears threaten to spill, and I fight to hold them back. I bite my tongue, tasting the metallic tang of frustration as I try to steady my trembling emotions.

I force myself to look away from the window, taking in shaky breaths to regain composure. Each breath feels like a struggle, a battle against the rising tide of disappointment. I look up, my eyes blurred with unshed tears, and will myself to find strength.

Deep breaths. In and out.

I wrestle with my emotions, fighting the urge to crumble. It's a lonely battle, and the weight of unspoken words hangs heavy in the air. The silence is deafening, broken only by the echoes of my own heartbeat.

half an hour later

The sound of the door knob rattling pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn to see him entering, supposedly from his so-called 'jogging' session. His disheveled hair and the hickey marks on his neck don't escape my notice, but I keep my gaze down, focusing on chopping the ingredients for breakfast. The rhythmic slicing helps channel my frustration into the task.

Silence hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of disappointment. I clench my jaw, determined not to let the emotions bubbling within me overflow. Why me, I wonder.

I put on a fake smile, a mask to conceal the turmoil beneath the surface. Breaking the tense quiet, I decide to confront the reality before me, choosing words carefully as I break the uneasy silence.

"How was it?"

The question hangs in the air as I continue chopping, my hands steady despite the storm raging inside me. The tension is heavy as I await his response.

He seems startled, caught off guard by the unexpected interruption to your silence. Nervously, he stammers a response.

"Huh? W-What?"

"Jogging... You went jogging, right?" I press, my eyes focused on the task at hand, but my peripheral vision catches his every move. I put down the knife, turning to face him with a fake smile plastered on my face.

"Oh, jogging... Yes, jogging... Yeah, it was good... good," he replies, the words rushed and accompanied by a forced smile. The tension lingers, hanging in the air like an unspoken truth, and I maintain my fake smile, masking the hurt that hides beneath the surface.

The question hangs in the air, a carefully veiled inquiry concealing the knowledge I already possess. "Bucky," I murmur, the weight of the question palpable in the room. "how many years has it been since our arranged union? One or two?" I lock eyes with him, searching for a flicker of guilt, a hint that he might confess to the secrets he thinks are well hidden.

The room feels heavy with the unspoken truth as I press on, my voice carrying a subtle undercurrent of accusation. "You would never hurt me, right?" I ask, knowing the answer even before the words leave my lips. His eyes betray a hint of unease, a fleeting glimpse of a man caught in his own web of betrayal.

I turn my attention to the task at hand, my fingers gripping the edge of the counter as I continue, "It's just, sometimes I wonder about our arranged marriage. Do you?" My words linger in the air, a calculated challenge, as I maintain a facade of innocence, masking the storm of emotions that swirl within me.

Bucky shifts uncomfortably under the weight of my penetrating gaze, his eyes momentarily faltering before regaining composure. "Uh, yeah, it's been two years," he answers, attempting to sound nonchalant. His attempt at a casual demeanor betrays a hint of unease, a subtle acknowledgment that he senses the underlying tension.

I maintain my facade, the corners of my lips twitching into a semblance of a smile. "And you'd never hurt me, right?" I press further, watching for any subtle changes in his expression. Bucky hesitates, a fleeting moment where the truth seems to hang in the air. "Of course not," he replies, the words lacking the conviction they once held.

As I turn back to my task, the air between us crackles with unspoken truths and concealed betrayals, creating a rift that neither of us dares to bridge.

Bucky's POV

Bucky's response hangs in the air, a weight on his conscience that he can't shake off. As I turn away, the guilt tightens in his stomach. He can't escape the unease, knowing he's betraying not just the arrangement but the person at the center of it.

He sighs, heavy with remorse, as he heads for the bathroom. The sound of running water becomes a feeble attempt to drown out the turmoil in his mind. Bucky leans against the cool tiles, steam clouding the mirror, mirroring the fog in his thoughts.

"What have I done?" he whispers, the weight settling in his stomach. The jog's facade crumbles, revealing the truth of his choices. The affair, the lies—it's a web tightening around him, and he's not sure how to break free without causing irreparable damage.

Under the shower's cold stream, Bucky stands, his hand braced against the tiles. The water pounds against him, a feeble attempt to wash away the guilt. As each droplet falls, he confronts the consequences of his actions. The arranged marriage, once a distant pact, now feels shattered. Bucky closes his eyes, trying to block out the guilt threatening to consume him. In the cascade of water, he faces the mess he's made, uncertain if there's any way to salvage the delicate threads holding their union together.

The cold shower beats against Bucky, a stark contrast to the heat of his thoughts. His hand tightens on the tiles as he battles the storm inside. The water's steady drumming echoes his emotions, a chaotic mix of regret and confusion.

"What am I doing?" he mutters, the words lost in the shower's noise. The images of his mistakes play on a loop in his mind—the marks on the neck, the messed-up sheets. It's a vivid reminder of betrayal.

The truth is undeniable. The affair breaks trust, a breach of the commitment he made, even if reluctantly, in this arranged marriage. As the water rushes over him, Bucky tries to wash away not just the physical traces but the guilt staining his conscience.

The fogged-up mirror reflects a man in conflict. His guilty eyes meet their own gaze, and for a moment, he doesn't recognize himself.

"What have I become?" The question lingers, unanswered, as he stands beneath the unrelenting water. The bathroom isn't a refuge; it amplifies the loneliness. Bucky is stuck in a silent struggle, torn between duty and desire, unsure if he can find a way out without leaving everything shattered behind.

Dot's POV

(girl with whom Bucky is cheating with)

"He is gone again," I murmur to myself, my gaze fixed on the fan dangling from the ceiling. The bed beside me feels emptier than usual, a constant reminder of his absence. The weight of silence settles in the room, and once again, I find myself engulfed in loneliness...

Every day, it's the same struggle. A battle between the promise I make to myself and the undeniable pull he has on me. "Every time... every day. I let him in," I admit in the quiet of my thoughts. The bed, cold and untouched, bears witness to my internal conflict. It's a routine of surrendering to a love that should never have blossomed.

"I can always stop," I tell myself daily, a mantra of resistance that crumbles with each passing moment. The realization hits hard — I'm ruining myself for him. The weight of guilt presses down as I acknowledge the gravity of my actions.

"I am so bad," I confess silently, my heart heavy with self-loathing. I'm entangled in an affair with a married man who has a loving wife. The reality of my choices echoes in the hollow spaces of the room. "I'm so sorry," I whisper to no one but myself, a futile apology to the shadows that witness my moral descent.

"I hate myself... I hate it," the thought echoes, a painful admission of the self-destructive path I tread. Love, tangled with regret, becomes a poison that seeps into every corner of my being. Yet, despite the self-flagellation, the ache for him lingers, a bittersweet melody that refuses to be silenced.

The room, my safe place, now shows the mess inside me. I turn from the fan's spin, lost in the shadows. The secret love has left marks, stains that no apology can wipe away. As I try to understand this mess of feelings, I wonder if I can ever fix the pieces of my self-respect that have shattered.

The words slip out in a hushed murmur, barely audible in the quiet room. "I am sorry." The weight of the apology hangs in the air, a fragile attempt to mend the fractures that linger between us. It's a simple phrase, but it carries the echoes of regret and a longing for forgiveness. The weight of regret settles in, and I can't help but wonder if these simple words will ever be enough to mend the fractures I've created.

The illicit affair has left its mark, a stain that no amount of whispered apologies can erase. As I search through the wreckage of my emotions, I'm left to wonder if the fragments of my self-respect can ever be pieced back together.

Not everyone gets the same version of me.

One person might tell you I'm an amazing beautiful soul.

Another person will say I'm a coldhearted bitch.

Believe them both, I act accordingly.

-love

Chapter 2

Taglist: @angstysebfan @cjand10 @learisa @themorningsunshine @binkszamsstuff @dreamerglassesgirl @winterslove1917 @perfectpieslimeprune @nikkivillar @bethexo07

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