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#bodyguard!bucky x reader
vanillanaps · 2 years
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Not So Forbidden | Bucky Barnes
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Summary: You were upset after a mishap that happened so your favorite bodyguard came to comfort you with good news.
A/n: I watched a movie called First Daughter and got inspired to write something cute and soft. It's kinda ass tho so beware.
Category: Bodyguard!Bucky x President’s Daughter!Reader
Warnings: Reader is 23, Bucky is in his late 20s/Early 30s, some crying on the readers part, the ending is rushed cause my creativity ran out lmao
Word Count: 1.8k
♡♡♡♡
“Care Bear secured.” One of your many bodyguards called into the mic that hid in the sleeve of his blazer as you crossed the threshold to your room, slamming the door behind you.
Just moments ago you had been dragged from an outing with one of your very very few friends as your bodyguards thought there had been an opposing threat. Turns out, there was just a loose dog running the streets and had scared a few people, but they had refused to take you back to your friend and continued to drive you back to the oversized house that you had been calling home for the last eight years.
You missed having the freedom you used to have before your mom decided to run to be President of the United States and won. It was like everything changed in the blink of an eye for you. Once a little girl who could run amok outside without a care in the world to a girl who had to be the perfect child for her mothers sake. Of course before, you were happy your mother was chasing her dreams and doing what she had always planned to do when she was growing up, you just wish that you knew that it’d come with sacrificing your public and private life.
A knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts, wiping your tears and clearing your throat, “I said I wanted to be alone.”
“It’s me.” The voice called. You recognized it immediately.
James Buchanan Barnes or as you would call him, Bucky. He was the head of your security team and ironically, one of your best friends. Bucky had been at your side nearly every day for the last five years when he got promoted to head bodyguard. In your opinion, he should have truly been a bodyguard for your mother. He had always done a superb job at keeping you safe, neutralizing threats and knowing when it was actually time to pull you from somewhere that may have started to get dangerous or too crowded.
Walking over to unlock the door, not even bothering to open it because you knew he already had his hand on the knob just waiting to push through. Shutting the door behind him, he watched as you walked over to your vanity, still trying to dry your eyes.
“What happened?” Bucky asked, slowly approaching up behind you.
“Oh, your buddies didn’t call it out to you?” You scoffed, shaking your head, “Apparently a stray dog running the streets is a threat to my safety now and they whisked me out of there, leaving my friend behind and all.”
“They were just doing their job.” He tried to reason with you, but he knew how much you hated not being able to do the simple things in life without stuff like this happening.
Turning to look at him, you furrowed your eyebrows at him, “Right, so where were you? Where was the knight to save his damsel in distress from a damn dog? Isn’t that your job? To be by the helpless princess’s side twenty-four-seven?”
“I was in a meeting with your mother.” He stepped closer to you, “I’m sorry, if I was there, that wouldn’t have happened—but you can’t be upset with them doing what they are paid heavily to do.”
“God Bucky, I know, I know. I’m not mad at them, I’m—” You huffed, taking a deep breath as you tried to control your tears, “I’m mad at the fact that I will never have a normal life. Everywhere I go, there’s a group of big beefy men following me around, cameras flashing in my face, news reporters covering every little thing I do. My skirt too short? I’m a slut. I don’t smile in a picture? I’m the president’s stuck up daughter. If I smile too much? I’m faking it for the cameras. Almost every friend I’ve tried to make in those short two years I went to college? Just using me to get popular while talking about me behind my back. I just can’t win.”
Bucky sighed, “I know..”
“No, Bucky, honestly you don’t. Every day, when I walk out of this god forsaken place, I have to put on a smile and a personality that doesn’t belong to me. Everything that I do reflects on my mother and what kind of daughter would I be if I ruined something that she worked so hard for?” You ranted, “I mean, she’s the first female President of the United States. She’s making history and I’m so proud of her, but it cost me everything, Bucky, everything. To the point where I can’t even hold the hand of the man I love in public because he’s my bodyguard.”
“Come here.” He held his hand out which you gladly took as he pulled you into his body, wrapping his arms tightly around you, “I’m sorry, baby.”
You relaxed in his embrace, sighing as you buried your face into his chest, smelling that cologne you bought for him not too long ago, “You have nothing to be sorry for, it’s not your fault.”
Kissing the crown of your head, slowly rocking the two of you from side to side, “I can’t change what happened earlier, I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I can’t change the reality of the life you live, but if I could pull you through a portal and take you to a universe where you were just a normal girl, I would. But there is one thing I can change.
Smiling softly at his words, you pulled back a little to be able to look up into those blue eyes that you loved so much, “Yeah? What’s that?”
He returned the smile, bringing his hand up to cup your face, his thumb slowly stroking your cheek, “Your mother said something similar to me earlier,”
A FEW HOURS EARLIER…
Bucky knocked on the door that led to the oval office after he was requested there.
“Enter!” His boss's voice called.
“Madam President.” He addressed her, keeping his position by the door, “You wanted to see me?”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Barnes. Please, shut the door and have a seat.”
He followed her wishes, shutting the door and sitting in a chair that was adjacent to her desk, “Is everything okay, Madam President?”
She smiled, moving her stack of paperwork to the side and taking off her glasses, “Everything is fine, James. No need to worry. And please, right now you may call me Diane.” Bucky’s heart was beating out of his chest, was this a set up? Was he being tested? Was she being threatened? A thousand thoughts flew through his head as he thought something was wrong, but before he could ask, Diane spoke again, “You may call me Diane because I didn’t call you here to talk to you about presidential or security reasons. I called you here to speak to you as a Mother to Y/n.”
Bucky gulped, deciding to play it cool, “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”
Diane chuckled, “James, do you take me as a fool?”
“Of course not, Madam President.” He answered quickly, playing it safe just in case this was a test.
She sat back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other and folding her hands over her lap, “Five years ago, when my only daughter turned 18, I knew that whether I was president or not, I wasn’t going to be able to keep an eye on her forever. That eventually, she’d want to venture off on her own and I wouldn’t be able to stop her. I needed someone who I could trust to keep an eye on her while she tried to navigate her life. I was talking to your father about you before his passing. He was telling me how dedicated you were to your job, even if you were only guarding a door, so I promoted you to Y/n’s head bodyguard as I promised him that you’d always have a job here as long as I was president.”
Bucky’s eyes glossed over at the mentioning of his father’s passing. It may have been some years, but you’d never truly get over the loss of a parent passing, “I’m not sure If I understand what we’re talking about.”
Diane continued, “James, over these last few years, I’ve been how close you and y/n have grown. Your secret whispers, inside jokes, the looks you give each other when you think no one’s looking, the way you look at her when you think no one is watching. Even sneaking out almost every night.” His head dropped. This was it, he was getting fired. He had broken the number one rule and fell for his boss’s daughter. He went to speak, but Diane kept going before he could, “And I want to thank you for being there for her and making all of this the smallest bit easier for her.”
When Bucky slowly looked up, he saw Diane with probably the most genuine smile he’d ever seen from her, “You do?”
She nodded, “After I was elected President, I knew life for the two of us would never be the same. That we’d always be in the public eye and crucified for everything that we do, which is why in those first few years of my presidency, I shielded her from it. Kept her in the house and out of the public eye for as long as possible and the best thing I could've ever done was make you her bodyguard because you make her happy. She’s sacrificed so much for me, what type of mother would I be if I kept her from being with the only person who makes her feel normal?” She questioned, more so to herself than to Bucky, “Do you love my daughter?”
“More than anything in this world.”
“Then who am I to stand in between love?
PRESENT…
Your eyes were wide and filled with tears as Bucky told you what happened in the meeting with him and your mother. To say you were shocked was an understatement. You were so sure that you and Bucky were being careful enough not to get caught, “She knew this whole time?”
He nodded, “And she’s okay with it. She just wants you to be happy.” You couldn’t stop the smile that took over your face before you excitedly pulled him into a kiss. Bucky gladly returned the kiss, titling his head to deepen it. His hands traveled down to your waist, gripping the flesh to lift you up into his arms. Your legs naturally wrapped around his waist as he carried you to your bed and laid the two of you down on it, “I’m gonna marry you one day.” He mumbled against your lips, “I’m gonna take you away from all this. Maybe move to the country, somewhere far away from others and give you all the normalcy and privacy that you crave today.” A soft sob left your lips as you pressed your forehead against his, “Until then, I’ll be here, right by your side until your mother finishes her Presidency.”
“I love you so much.” You sighed, listening to his words.
“I love you more, baby.”
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giftedyoungster3000 · 9 months
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Stay with me
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Dbf and adrenaline C3 and C4
Summary: after your father had received a number of serious threats he figured it would be best to put you under protection and have a trusted bodyguard at your side. Who better for that job than his close friend Bucky. (Bucky met reader when she was already an adult)
Warning: age gap (reader is early 20s Bucky is about 40 or so, both are consenting adults) dads best friend, creep at bar, mention of future smut/public sex, pet names, slight implications reader is female, no real description of reader
@buckybarnesevents June-iverse
Word count: 1k
A/n: pushing the due date for this last fic but here it is. It’s unedited not proof read or anything but it’s posted.
“Stop being a brat. I’m not happy to be doing this either, I owed your dad a favour” his hot breath danced on your neck as his annoyed voice snarled. His hands landed on your waist bringing you closer. He knew exactly how flustered you got around him. And boy did he use it to his advantage. Always finding a reason to be holding you, especially in front of your father. He could get off just by watching your cheeks heat up bright pink and you trying not to squirm. He knew he shouldn’t have these thoughts about his old pal's daughter. But he reasoned with himself that it was ok seeing as he met you at a bar before he even knew you were his friend's kid. So was it really that wrong?
He surveyed the bar before refocusing his attention on you. He knew the threat wasn’t serious and your father was overly paranoid but Bucky wasn’t taking any chances. He was asked to protect you and he sure as hell wouldn’t let you get hurt under his watch.
You stood in front of Bucky looking up at him desperately wanting all of his attention. You were about to snap. You were almost completely sure that whatever feelings you had toward this absolute beauty of a man were reciprocated. But then doubts would creep in. He was almost double your age and the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Surely he wouldn’t want a kid like you. But ever since your dad started getting threats and he asked Bucky to be a bodyguard of sorts you allow yourself to take these moments alone and fantasize about what it would be like to have his attention on you for other reasons. Be able to have him for yourself, claim him and make sure all the people who were eyeing him knew that he belonged to you.
“I’m bored James.” You wine trying to pull his attention away from the crowd and towards the pout and puppy dog eyes, you wore.
He sighed looking at you and flicking his eyes down to your lips, they looked so full and soft, shining in the light of the club. His patience was getting thin.
“This is what you chose to do tonight.” He pointed out, struggling to pull his eyes away from your face. “So either we stick the night out, or I take you back home so you can hide away in your room again.” He lays the two options out for you calling out your habits in the meantime.
“Fine, at least get me a drink please?” He silently nods and pulls away to get your drink already knows what your favourite is. You follow him with your eyes as he walks over to the bar. Your mind is too distracted by the eye candy walking away from you to notice the man creeping up behind you.
His hand grips your waist unexpectedly and turns you to him. The strong smell of smoke enters your lungs and you feel nauseous.
“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone? Are you looking for a good time huh? Well, you’re in luck, babe.” The man’s voice dragged through the air and into your ears.
“Excuse me?” You push the man away from you trying to put space between you and this creep when he grabs your arm tight enough to make you wince.
“Don’t talk to me like that you whore. Who do you think you are.” His face was close to yours and his voice laced with venom. You were sure this was your end.
Before you had even finished mentally saying your goodbyes the man was pulled off of you and thrown into the side of the bar counter. Effectively making him no longer a threat.
“No who do you think you are.” An oddly familiar voice asked the man now laying on the floor. Looking over to the two men, Bucky stood over the creep who curled on the floor in pain. Bucky's heavy black boot lay against his chest keeping him down. Bucky reaches forward grabs the man's shirt collar and pulls him up. As Bucky stood a head taller than this man he leaned down just enough to whisper some sort of what you assumed was a threat into the man’s ear. he pushed him into the crowd and the general direction of the door before turning back to face you, his face softening as he looked you over.
“You hurt doll?” His hands inspect you, gently moving over your body assessing to see any damage.
“I’m fine James, just a little shaken up.”
“Good, I leave you for two minutes and you already get yourself in trouble. What would you do without me huh?” His tone was mocking but there was a certain amount of truth behind that statement. What would you do without him, you never wanted to find out.
“I guess you should just never leave my side then” you joked.
“That’s the best idea you’ve had all night doll.” All signs of humour left his voice, he pulled you by the waist over to an empty booth in one of the far corners, sitting himself down and pulling you along with him and onto his lap. “This is what you wanted doll?” That damn smirk he always wears made an appearance on his face again, he knew from the way you were squirming that you were enjoying this. “What’s the matter, princess? You suddenly don’t have much to say.” He used a playful mocking tone, almost like he was speaking to a child.
A surprised gasp left your lips as you felt Bucky pressing against your thighs. There was no doubt that he was big, but feeling him against your most sensitive area made you realize just how big he was.
He could tell by the way you paused for a quick second before shifting again that you could feel how hard he was, so why not use that to his advantage?
Leaning in, Bucky once again lets his hot breath fan your neck as he whispers in a low sultry tone, “You gonna let me take you right here in the back of the club, in front of all these people?”
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undercoverpena · 2 years
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wrong choice, right places (vi)
mob!bucky/bodyguard!bucky x fem!reader word count: 3k an: I may be the worst, but I stick to my word that I haven't abandoned anything. notes: smut, the heat is being turned up, will you and bucky make it out the kitchen? gif not my own.
masterlist | series list
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"You're beautiful."
Compliments from Bucky do something to you.
Even in between the moments the two of you are alone, you feel them from his eyes. How they widen when he sees you in red; the way the corner of his lips twitch when you lean in a certain way.
The two of you having found a language the two of you only speak, even when surrounded by the others. Surrounded by Zemo.
Just as much as the way both his metal and flesh fingers run up your sides.
He can pull moans from when he thrusts into you, all of him filling you—stretching you. It didn’t matter if it was a bed, a chair or apparently the wall, Bucky always finds that place.
The one which makes your toes curl even in your heels and makes your fingers clench whatever fabric was close. This time it was his shirt as his forehead pressed against yours, fucking you into the wall.
It’s too much.
How good he feels, how his lips feel right on yours. How he holds you like you’re a trophy and yet something he’ll treasure forever. He looks at you, like you’re his, and deep down, in the weeks since the shooting.
You are his.
It’s bad. You know it is. How you’ve let him in, how he’s become one with you now. How the glances say so much, how the way he holds your hand has become softer even when he's pulling you to a corner away from watching eyes.
You shift, lips brushing his before you find his mouth latching into yours. Cautious at first, before it turns messy; mouths sliding together, tongues meeting haphazardly as his fingers gripped your hip harder.
You’re close, you know you are. The thought of him between your legs begins before you even dress yourself. You're just never sure if your daydream will be granted, whether Zemo will leave you alone in the house, leaving Bucky behind for your taking.
It had been four days.
Nothing in the grand scheme of things, but now four days felt like a year. So much so, you had hoped you’d have made it to something with fabric, and not exposed brick. You’d hoped to have enjoyed all of him and not just the parts he could expose without running the risk of being caught.
“Feel so fuckin’ good—“
“I hate you,” you moan, clenching your eyes as he hits the velvety spot you’re normally pleading for him to meet. Your fingers scrape against his hair, mouth opened in a strangled moan against his shoulder as he drives in and out of you. “I hate you so much.”
The feel of his teeth grazing your neck had you quickly coming undone. How he was so solid as you clenched around him as you rolled your hips against his; how the metal of his palm cupped your mouth as you moaned his name. Focused on riding the pleasure which had engulfed you, and not screaming the house down.
His other hand gripping your hip, grasping it tightly as he let out a groan, his movements slowing, the sounds of you both catching your breaths filling the air.
You expected to feel guilt, to be overcome with what you’ve just done once again. But instead, you trace a finger over his cheek, his head turning to kiss your wrist.
“I think I hate you too,” he whispers, before his lips find yours.
Because they’re words neither of you mean.
Weeks have become months since the two of you had fallen together. Now you’re in deep. So deep.
You linger in his arms. “He’ll kill us.”
Bucky smiles, soft and uncaring. “You’re worth dying for.”
“Don’t... Don't say that.”
He shrugs, sliding the strap of your dress up. “It’s true.”
“We can’t… we can’t do this again.”
Bucky places the gun back in his holster, as he steps away, leaving you clutching your chest against the wall. Watching as he brushes a hand through his hair. “But we will.”
“Bucky?”
“Darling.”
You swallow, casting your eyes to the window as you sigh. “He’ll kill you.”
“If he notices. The IF is important. Because,” he says, crossing the room, leaning over your covered form, “I don’t think he knows what a beautiful diamond he has locked up in his house. I don’t think he ever has.”
You find his lips pressing against your fingers.
“I thought you said he loved me?” you say, eyebrow raised.
Bucky rolls the tip of his nose over yours. “A part of him, I’m sure of it. But, I’m not going to squander you. I’m going to cherish you, over, and over again.”
You let out a shaky sigh, him moving closer, pulling the ends of your dress down as he kisses your cheek.
“I hate you.
“I hate you too.”
He smiles, “If only we meant it, right?”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
When you were younger, you'd idolised your Uncle. It had always amazed you how people bowed to him, how doors opened, how tables were always available, without prior booking. There was nothing you could ever want.
And then, one day it all changed.
You'd opened a door you shouldn't have, stood in the doorway when you should have ran. The image burned into your brain. Now, you knew better. How trapped people must have felt, how people did things from fear and not adoration.
Which is why you're at dinner.
Sat across a table from the man who you now share a bed with. A man who rarely let you out of his sight. Those wondrous, small, fleeting moments he does, you're kept a prisoner in his home.
The home he rarely let you outside of, the one you could have liked.
Helmut Zemo had promised to save you, but now inside his tight fist, you'd never felt more at risk. At one stage, you had thought he liked you weak, lonely. Now, he just liked you close. So close as if one day you'll change your mind, bowing to him, bending to him.
Sometimes, while he slept. Looking innocent, peaceful, you couldn't help but wonder if Zemo had always been this way. Whether the day grief knocked on his door it had changed him, affected him.
If it had wounded him, leaving scars which didn't show.
But, then he'd be human.
And there was nothing human about a man who murdered without breaking a sweat; nothing human about the way he imprisoned you.
Even if in the moments in between all the shouting, you could see a slither of something trying to get out. Not good, but not evil.
Then you'd let Bucky in.
Closed the gap between you as he pressed your back into tiles before the two of you fell and fell, tumbling down a hole neither of you had known you were close to. A secret; something tucked away in both of your chests.
Neither wishing to admit it means more than it does.
Because you're engaged to his boss; his boss who will kill him for touching you. Never mind loving you.
It as though Zemo knows. He's suspicious, both of you know that already. It should be enough of a deterrent, but it isn't. He tries to spend more time with you, talk to you, involve you. As if it'll do any good.
None of it mattering, not when he stares over at you as you tuck into your main course with a cold stare. The main he ordered ahead for you, a favourite. One he felt proud to announce when he led you into the empty restaurant, candles flickering all around the room.
"How did you know?" you'd asked.
He had smiled, pulling out your chair. "Believe it or not, Liebling. I listen."
Something you hadn't been able to argue with.
It had taken all of your facial muscles not to show your glee when it arrived. Instead, looking indifferent, glancing up to find him watching you, curiosity filtering across his features.
He'd been doing this a lot.
Watching you. Studying you. Trying to crack your facade as if you were a puzzle he'd beat eventually. As if you hadn't been broken, as if the sound of those bullets could ever be far from the forefront of your mind.
"Is it to your liking?"
You lick your lips. "It would go down better without being watched."
Snorting, he leans back. Bringing his glass with him as his lips curl into a smirk. One you can't read; one you can't understand.
"I'm not sure what's going off behind that pretty face of yours, Helmut, but I'd forget it."
His lips curl up. His smirk reaching his eyes, something you'd find adoring on anyone other than him.
You'd find his entire pretence of him buying you a dress and taking you for dinner as romantic, on anyone but him. Not Helmut Zemo. Not ever since the man had been tightening the cage he held you in; occasionally taking you out of it, holding you too tightly in his large palm, reminding you of how far his grip can reach.
As if you'd somehow forgotten.
As though the image of him taking power wasn't burned into your brain. Always there whenever you blinked, whenever you hoped too much.
You're not sure how you ever thought you could look past it. When he'd been kinder, less awful—when he'd slid the ring on your finger which hadn't been the key to the cage, but rather the leash.
"But, you do think I'm pretty," he comments, raising his wine glass. "Which, is no small feat when it comes to you."
You could laugh.
Instead, you let your eyes fall to your plate, slowly slicing up vegetables, moving it around the plate. Eyes looking at the gravy, wondering if the bubbles are caused by the many movements you've done in it or something deadlier.
You could never be sure. Not with him.
"I can appreciate your handsomeness, Helmut. I'm not blind. And, how could I not when we are often so close, you're the only thing I see? But don't confuse flattery with how much I despise you," you say, bringing your fork to your lips, "I would still rather slit your throat than ever part my legs for you."
He leans back in his chair, the entire place a little too quiet, even with the piano playing in some distant corner and the tinkling of dishes in the restaurant's kitchen.
You force yourself not to look up, to not meet his eyes, to not dare him into a battle of words he'll eventually win. Because he's smarter, he knows you have more to lose—you don't doubt he knows more than he'll ever let on.
"There are many ways to get your legs to part though, hm?"
Meeting his stare, you find his stare a little chillier. His head tilted, a smug look on his face as he sips from his glass again. A cold shiver runs down your spine.
"I just mean, I've got you to do it once before, Liebling. I'm sure there's a price to do it again," he says, placing his glass down as he lifts his knife. "Desperation. Bargaining. You'll be surprised how much people bend their morals when they have little choice."
"I feel like you're threatening me."
He smiles, his free hand coming across the table, grasping your wrist. His warm fingers pushing into your skin, his gaze firmer, harsher.
And then he turns it over, thumb parting your fingers from your palm.
"I'd never threaten the woman I love, Liebling."
"You don't love me."
He snorts, raising his brows. "On the contrary."
"You don't," you say, snatching your wrist back. "It's a word for you. One I don't appreciate being thrown at me. It doesn't make me like you, it makes me hate you a little bit more when you use it. So if you could refrain, I’d appreciate."
Retracting his hand, he licks his lips. The candle flickering over his face, a curl falling from his carefully positioned hair to his forehead.
And you watch. Observing him coming undone.
Finally feeling like you're a match for him.
And then he smirks.
“Well, fiancé, you’re not exactly in a position for bargaining.”
His hand dipping under the cloth, retrieving a folder as he placed it down in front of you. You don’t move your eyes from him. Hoping to cut him, peel back the layers, read his thoughts as your hands slide over the thick paper.
And then your eyes see it.
The lust on your face. The back of Bucky’s head. The two of you in various states of undress until you don’t look anymore.
“From the look on your face, it seems you agree, Liebling?”
“What do you want?”
He smirks, slowly taking your hand from across the table, firmer, less gentle. His presence alone is frightening, it’s calm. Seeing first hand—once again—how he became so feared.
“I didn’t realise you were so needy,” he continues, ignoring your question, “if I’d have known, I’d have payed extra—“
“—what do you want, Zemo?”
His lip curls. “The wedding. It is being moved.”
“No…”
“Oh, you’ll find it is.”
“I’m not marrying you—“
His fist collides with the wood, forks and spoons flying up under the impact; your heart flying to your throat, physically jumping as your eyes widen.
But Zemo’s eyes are wild for a different reason. Full of fire, rage. A look you’ve never seen, not this close.
“No one touches you, Liebling. You may think that’s a statement I throw around, but it is in fact a truth. A fixed fact. No one, not even talented men like him, get to touch you.”
Your hands shake, tremble. “Zemo…”
“You will marry me, Liebling. You will. Because otherwise he will die,” he says, a cunning smile spreading across his features. “And, you don’t have the heart for a death on your conscious.”
"I won't... I won't love you."
His head tilts. "By our wedding, you'll feel differently. You'll see I can offer you many things, and not just men with metal limbs."
Your insides almost wither. Your spine almost cracking, dissolving while you scramble for breath without showing it.
He smiles, gentler, more calming. But you can see the storm in his eyes, the one he's goading you into. The one which'll take you under.
"P-lease?" you stammer, trying to swallow.
"There seems little point putting it off any longer," he says, dropping your hand as he picks up his fork up as he tears his eyes from you. "It's not as though they'll never be a war to conquer, or an opposition to stop, Liebling. I just never realised it would come from inside the same walls I live in."
++++++++++++++++++
It's not unheard of for him to be called to the office.
Bucky has been called many times to the boss' office. Sometimes for a special case, sometimes for a report, sometimes just too enjoy a whiskey. He doubted tonight was any of those.
He expected it to be a grilling. One about how much he's found with her: the one he should be staying away from.
It's unheard of for Bucky to become attached. Life has taught him not to do so. His heart always surrounded by a cage, held in ice. The life he lives far too dangerous for anything more serious than sex.
He'd love to say it's like that with her.
That he doesn't smile when she makes a witty comment, that he doesn't look for her around every corner. That his bed has been empty since the night in the safe house.
"Close the door, James."
It's always the same instruction after he's knocked and entered. Always a clear instruction.
Zemo commands a room. Has done since before he took over. He stands over them all, even if Bucky is in fact taller.
"I've never been one for idioms, James."
He swallows, holding the gaze of his boss as he twirls the letter opener in between his fingers. Looking every bit the murderer Bucky knew he could be. It doesn't matter that Zemo wears expensive suits which show exactly how much of a Baron he still is, he knows—like all of the men who work for him—that he isn't afraid to get them dirty.
It's what dry cleaners are for. Expensive ones at that.
"But, I am unable to come up with a more clever analogy. But, have you been keeping your hands out of the cookie jar."
Bucky stifles a smirk.
Straightening his spine, lifting his chin ever so slightly as he holds the man's stare. Trying not to think of the ways he's had her only days ago. Days where his primary goal had been to protect, and he'd ensured he'd done that thoroughly. No one would have been able to mark her skin without going through him.
"Of course."
Zemo places the letter opener down, eyes narrowing as his lips purse together and he's sure he can see darkness swirling in them.
"Of course, Sir," he adds, his accent adding a twang to the words.
Bucky rolls his jaw slightly. "Of course I have, Sir."
Giving a curt nod, Bucky goes to turn, to leave. Ignoring the way his cheeks are beginning to burn, how his ears feel like they're on fire.
"However, James..."
He halts. Looking over his shoulder, finding his boss with a gun pointed at his back, a remote held up in his other hand.
"... The television begs to differ," he says, pressing a button as the one in the corner flickers on.
There's no sound, but Bucky doesn't need any.
He knows how it sounds. He knows the noises she can make, the one she made right then when he held her leg up at his waist, the way she whispered his name, over and over again.
Clicking the lever, Zemo rolls his tongue over the front of his teeth as he stares at him. Putting holes in them with his eyes.
"I thought we had an understanding, James," Zemo says coldly, throwing the remote down. "But, I see now I have to be more clear."
+++++++++++++++++++
t a g l i s t :
@keepingitlokiii @w0nderw0man-cinema @humongousmakerplaidhound @loveisallyouneed1125 @astolenheartnkiss @that-napa-know-how @w0nderw0mansw0rld @brea-renee @buckysdove @metalarmslut @virtualrain202 @moonyinthestars @bxtchopolis @exhaustedfangirl @flawssy227 @marvelficreblog
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buckyalpine · 18 days
Text
A thot. A smutty, slutty, scandalous thot. With Bodyguard Bucky. Possessiveness, size kink, breeding kink, all of it. Now, imagine being the sweet, quiet, beautiful wife of the esteemed John Walker, CEO of Walker Industries. You sit at his table, clapping with the proudest smile on your face as he accepts an award for another successful year. Your husband dedicates all his success to the beautiful woman who has supported him through all the ups and downs, who has been by his side through it all.
You.
You blow a shy kiss in his direction when the cameras pan over to you, giggling at the wink he throws back. The press will have a field day about the most envied couple in the world, so perfect and so in love. As the night nears its end, your husband gives your hand a squeeze from where he sits beside you, leaning over to whisper in your ear.
"Going to have to stop by office darling, one our major investors just called" He kisses your cheek affectionately with an apologetic look on his face but the understanding smile you give him back lets him know you're not the least bit upset.
"Of course, I'll miss you" You reply and take a sip from your champagne, appearing oblivious to the glances that are thrown your way by the others as your husband leaves without you, his secretary following closely behind him.
All the hushed whispers.
Poor woman has no idea.
All the secrets.
Just a pretty thing on his arm, probably doesn't have a clue.
Doesn't have a clue her husband has been carrying on with his secretary late into the nights and all through out his business trips.
Such a shame she's none the wiser. Has no one thought to tell her? Pity she's genuinely so in love with him.
Truly such a shame, wasn't it?
Such a shame your husband had no idea your bodyguard fucked your brains out till he busted balls deep in side you every chance he got.
Bucky doesn't say a word as he leads you out of the venue, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, helping you into the car. As soon as he slipped in beside you, you rolled up the dark partition before slinking onto his lap and slamming your lips against his. Bucky groaned against your lips, his hands finding their way home to grope and spank your ass, guiding your hips to grind down on his erection straining against his black pants.
"Need me to take care of you, huh princess" He murmured against the shell of your ear before going back to lacing his tongue with yours causing a shiver to run down your spine, nipping his pouty lip and grasping onto the lapels of his blazer.
No time was wasted as you straightened yourself out upon entering your home, quickly dismissing the staff to leave for the night, giving you free reign to do as you pleased.
As soon as the house was empty, he tossed you over his shoulder, striding up the stairs and straight to the master bedroom. He dropped you onto your large bed, tearing your dress in half down the middle, letting the material fall away at your feet.
"Fuck this" He grabbed your left hand, tugging off the wedding band you wore for appearances and tossing it carelessly across the room. He took off the silver tog tags that hung around his neck, slipping them over your head and letting his name sit perfectly between your breasts, the sight making him feral.
"Didn't even bother with panties" Bucky licked his lips at the sight of your bare naked body, not even a tiny sliver of lace covering your modesty. "You knew, didn't you"
"Always" You purred, knowing damn well your husband would fuck off to bang his desperate little secretary, unknowingly also giving you the night of your life you so badly craved. You crawled to the middle of the bed, your legs spread while Bucky tossed his blazer and shirt off, his pants and brief's quick to follow.
"Lookit you baby, so naughty, fuckin' your bodyguard in the same bed your husband sleeps in"
You let out a needy whimper while he stayed at the edge of the bed enjoying the view, his hand coming down to wrap around his cock giving himself long, languid strokes.
"James, please" you pleaded with a pout but Bucky just smirked in return, hissing as he swiped his thumb over the wet slit of his cockhead.
"I know prinţesă, I know, let me look at how pretty you are" He cooed, joining you on the bed and slotting himself between your legs. You wrapped your arms around his thick shoulders while he let his cock slip between your folds, rolling his hips to hump against your bare cunt. "You're soaked angel, been waiting for this, hm?"
"Wanted you so bad, need you James" Your hips bucked up, chasing the feeling of his fat cock rubbing against you, his swollen cockhead bumping your clit every time he pushed forward. "No teasing, please, missed your cock so bad"
"Shhh, you have me baby, m'right here, yeah?" Bucky kissed away the tears that started to slip down your cheeks, your arousal smearing all over his balls. He guided his dripping cockhead to press against your clit making you cry out, circling his most sensitive parts against yours, "M'right here, feel that angel? Y'feel how wet m'getting for you baby, right on that pretty clit, such a good girl letting me jus' leak all over her slutty little pussy, fuck theres so much precum 'nd m'not even inside you yet"
You'd never felt more empty, clawing at Bucky's back, your pussy fluttering and clenching over the way his silky tip kept tracing circles around your throbbing, sensitive bud. He flicked his cockhead across your clit a few times before lining himself up with your entrance.
"S'fuckin' tight, sh-shit" Bucky moaned as he started to press into you, sliding all the way home in one swift motion. He stayed still, holding your body close to his while your legs wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass, begging for him to do something.
"Move Jamie, please, c'mon, fuck me damn it, I need you, I need- FUCCKK" Your words slurred into sobs as Bucky started to fuck you hard and fast, already too needy with having to get a night alone with you.
"Needed me huh angel? fuckin' needed you too, s'all I think about pretty girl, just me n' you, how-oh fuck- how are you so tight around my cock" Bucky rambled, bringing his knee up to get a deeper angle, his hands coming to lace with yours, pinning you against the mattress.
"Missed-fuck-missed you Jamie" You whimpered, your pussy squeezing and sucking his cock back in,
"My baby loves her fat cock, I know, know you're so empty when I can't fill you up sweet girl, you love your bodyguard's big dick don't you" The taunt in his voice only got you off more, your eyes rolling back as he continued to rail you. "You're pussy's choking me so tight, don't think I can hold back tonight princess, don't think I'll be able to pull out"
"Don't" you whispered and something in the air switched, the highly charged sexual tension replaced with something more desperate and needy as you clung onto each other reading closer and closer to your highs.
"Mmph, y'can't say that, gonna wet your bed with my cum prinţesă, you'd like that wouldn't you, my cum covering all your sheets, your pillows smelling like me, letting me fill you up till your belly gets all swollen"
Bucky's voice melted into a whine, his dominance faltering into something needier, quickly shoving the thought away because he knew there was no chance. It would never happen. You'd never be so careless for such an accident to happen.
"Want it Jamie, want it all with you, please, don't-fuck, oh God-don't pull out" Your glassy eyes wet with tears showed no signs of deception but it couldn't be. He searched your gaze and you could see the innocence in his face wishing this were real, the way his body moved with yours, wishing it was just you and him. "St-stopped taking birth control"
Bucky sobbed at your confession, fucking you harder, making the headboard slam against the wall with his powerful thrusts. His hips snapped , shoving his cock all the way into your pussy, his balls growing heavier at the thought of leaving a piece of him inside of your fertile womb.
"you're fuckin' mine, you hear me? Mine. Mine. Mine. Say it!" Bucky grunted, biting your neck making you scream, your back arching off the bed, pressing your chest further against his.
"M'yours, all yours, just' yours" You slurred out, eyes rolling back and your moans turning nearly silent as immense pleasure crept down your spine.
"Gonna put my baby in you, make you mine forever, fuck your husband, your gonna be the mother of my child, just you prinţesă, all you, ALL YOU" Bucky roared against your neck as he shot ropes of his cum deep in your pussy, giving you harsh, sloppy thrusts as he grew more sensitive. He wrapped his arms around your body with his face tucked into your neck, shuddering at the feeling of your soft hands caressing his back, running your fingers through his soft cropped locks.
You hardly noticed him carrying you over to his room down the hall, tucking you into the warm sheets, resting your head on his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
"I love you" You murmured, smiling at the empty space on your ring finger and feeling the comforting coolness of his chain around your neck.
One day.
"I love you more, prinţesă" Bucky murmured, meaning every word as you both drifted off to sleep.
You couldn't wait to leave your husband.
a/n: This was meant to be way sluttier and less in the feels so might need to revisit this with a different version
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urdepressedslut · 9 months
Text
You’re Mine, Sunshine (masterlist) ♡
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♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader (Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au)
♡ Series Summary: Bucky gets picked by a very rich and respected man to be his daughter’s personal bodyguard. The Father warns him that it won’t be an easy job, that she is a brat and difficult to deal with. But what happens when Bucky meets you and you’re the complete opposite?
♡ Series Warnings: mentions of amputation, dark themes, violence, death/death threats, talk of parent death, fluff, angst, stalking, daddy issues, anxiety attacks/panic attacks, abuse, depression, depressive episodes, PTSD, dry humping, hints to smut, (warnings to be added as new chapters are released)
Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine ☀️
(SERIES ONGOING)
Last Updated: 9/8/23
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | SERIES 18+
⇨ Chapter One
↳ After Pierce interviews Bucky for the job, he warns him of you. Bucky is starting to rethink his decision, but when he meets you... you're not what he expected.
⇨ Chapter Two
↳ Bucky takes you home, and later finds you in the library. You both get to know each other a little better, but Bucky is hesitant.
⇨ Chapter Three
↳ Bucky has a surprise meeting with Pierce, getting informed about your secret admire. Meanwhile, Bucky tries to keep things professional, he’s hesitant to cross the line when you need him.
⇨ Chapter Four
↳ You don’t know what to think of Bucky after he took you to bed last night. Bucky can’t continue to keep the stalking situation hidden from you. Something is found on your doorstep.
⇨ Chapter Five
↳ Getting to know each other better doesn’t go according to plan. Bucky has to comfort you and fix the mess he made. Will you forgive him?
⇨ Chapter Six
↳ Bucky receives a morning visit from Steve, with the news about what was in the box. Bucky continues to think about what he should do. Should he tell you the truth about your stalker?
⇨ Chapter Seven
↳ Bucky finds you making a mess in the kitchen, attempting to bake and offers his help. The two of you get to talking and some reveals about each other begin to come out. Will he finally tell you about your stalker?
⇨ Chapter Eight
↳ After a surprise visit from Pierce, tension arises as he threatens Bucky of his job. Pierce wants to have a talk with you and it doesn't go very well.
⇨ Chapter Nine
↳ After the events from the other day, you try and cope with the reality of what happened. The world is a lot less colorful than you remember. Bucky helps comfort you after you realize you have no one left.
⇨ Chapter Ten
↳ Someone comes knocking at your door in the morning. Bucky answers and is surprised with who he finds. Are they going to help them or hurt them?
⇨ Chapter Eleven
↳ The tension can't be ignored anymore between you and Bucky. Steve shows up and he's not alone.
⇨ Chapter Twelve
↳ Reality is hitting you as you, Bucky, Steve and his men all venture off to a secret safe house only Steve knows about. The events from the last couple of days are starting to hit you with a sickening force, leaving you weak and crippled.
⇨ Chapter Thirteen
↳ Your dreams consist of random memories of your parents, but are they really random? Despite the past days of hell—you still find it difficult to resist Bucky. You two spend a heated morning together, devouring each other while you still have these moments.
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jobean12-blog · 10 months
Text
Protecting What’s His
Pairing: Beefy!Bucky x reader (Bodyguard AU)
Word Count: 2,590
Summary: Bucky has been your bodyguard for some time now and it’s been hard to deny how badly you want him to be more than that. 
Author’s Note: All these new pics of long haired beefy Seb have got me thinking and I thought I’d try a crack at Bodyguard AU. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: flirty tension, some fluff, Bucky is a bit serious and grumpy but he’s soft, mention of s-c-ar-s, a moment of slight p-a-ni-c in the elevator 
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Bucky holds the door of the elevator open and motions for you to step inside. You walk in and plant yourself along the far wall. Once Bucky is inside he presses the button to close the door.
He dwarfs the entire elevator.
A heavy silence falls between you and your entire body zings with hyperawareness. You try to control your breathing so he won’t notice how affected you are but you’re already concerned it’s written all over your face.
It’s been several months since he’d started being your bodyguard and every one of them has been pure torture. Every inch of him is intimidating with his broad shoulders and thick biceps and legs that go on forever but it’s his eyes that really draw you in. A beautiful blue color like the ocean, framed by long, dark lashes and filled with a softness that contradicts everything about his physical presence.
As ex-military he’s more than qualified for the job and he takes it seriously. He seems to take everything seriously, that’s why making him smile has become one of your favorite pastimes.
As the elevator moves downward you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His dark blue tailored suits fits perfectly, accentuating all of the aforementioned yummy parts of him.
“Did you enjoy the party?” you ask in a teasing voice.
He’s so focused on his job that you’ve rarely seen him indulge in any of the fun activities he escorts you to but this party had been particularly enjoyable.
His expression softens slightly and you even seen the corner of his mouth turn up.
“I had fun watching you have fun,” he states, matching your teasing tone.
You look up and grin at him.
His gaze turns intense once again as his eyes drop to your mouth.
You open your mouth to ask how come he didn’t even steal a glass of champagne to indulge when the elevator jolts, metal creaking and squeaking as it stops.
It throws you off balance and you fall back against the mirrored walls.
“Are you alright doll?” he asks as he reaches out a hand to steady you, his brow furrowed with concern.
A sliver of fear runs through you. “Are we stuck?”
He reaches over to press the ground floor button, and nothing happens. “I think so.”
Your eyes dart around the small space and you feel the tightness of anxiety starting to make your breathing difficult.
His eyes narrow and he pulls his cell phone from his pocket, quickly typing something.
“Oh no,” you whisper.
You start to feel light headed and your fingertips tingle as your panic increases.
“Doll face.”
Your chest heaves with your struggled breathing.
A large, warm hand settles on your bare back and you look up to find his head bent toward yours.
“Are you feeling claustrophobic?”
You nod rapidly.
“It’s ok,” he assures you, pulling you closer to his body. “Look at me. Keep your eyes on me.”
You do just that, imagining you’re sitting on the sand and staring out at the most beautiful ocean.
“Breathe in.” He takes a slow, easy breath in and the releases it. “Breathe out.”
You do the same.
“Keep doing that and stay focused on me. I’m right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
His face is so close you can see every hair of his beard, even the gray ones. Your eyes drop to his mouth as you continue your slow breathing. You lick your lips and glance up at him, shocked to see his stare locked on your mouth.
Your breath hitches and you feel a new wave of tingles shoot across your skin.
He straightens. “Sit down.”
His command is blunt and quick.
“In this dress?”
At your bemused expression he unbuttons his suit jacket before holding out his hand for you.
You look down at it and slowly place your own in his. With your free hand you reach for the silky material of your dress and part it at the slit, exposing the skin of your leg. His grip on your hand tightens.
Your eyes fly to his before you carefully slide down the wall. He copies your action and leans back, his knees bent and his suit pants straining against the heavy muscle of his thighs.
“Better?” he asks.
“Yeah, thank you.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure this will get fixed soon,” he says assuredly.
“I hope we aren’t high up.”
Your words are slightly shaky and it looks as if he wants to reach out for you but thinks better of it before answering, “no, I think we’re just above the opening to the ground floor.”
You nod. “I guess you don’t have problems with confined spaces.”
“They don’t bother me,” he replies.
“I bet there isn’t much that does. Bother you, I mean?”
He turns his face to you and you study him as he answers, “not much.”
You feel a smile pulling at your mouth so you bite your bottom lip to stop it. His jaw tightens as the muscle ticks and he drops his eyes to your mouth again.
“What have you been reading lately?” he asks.
The question surprises you and now you can’t stop a full-on grin.
“Everything and anything,” you admit. “Mostly romance.”
“Is that your favorite…?”
Before you can answer his question his cell rings and he gives you a quick apologetic look before standing and answering it. After several nods and mumbled “okays,” he holds out his hand to help you stand.
“Thanks for calming me down,” you say before taking it. “I owe you a drink.”
His large and calloused fingers close around yours and he pulls you to your feet. At the same time the elevator jerks upward and you fall against his chest.
He catches you in his arms and you cling to him, startled, as you press yourself along his body.
His eyes drop to your mouth before he looks away.
“You don’t owe me anything doll,” he grumbles. “It’s my job.”
You’re about to respond that calming you down isn’t part on his bodyguard protocol but the elevator moves again and then the doors start to open. He releases you gently.
Two maintenance men stand outside with smiles.
Bucky gestures for you to step off first, and you do, smiling in thanks to the elevator mechanics. You turn to watch Bucky walk out and notice his eyes slide down your body before moving back up to your face.
“You good?” he asks.
“Yeah, fine now, thanks again.”
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“I don’t know why he’s keeping me at arm’s length,” you huff sullenly. “We’re both adults and I’ve seen the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.”
You drop your head to the table and groan.
“Maybe he’s worried he’ll lose his job?” Nat suggests as she sips her coffee. “I mean he shouldn’t be distracted…”
“I’m not a distraction!” you scoff. “It’s not like I’m going to try to seduce him while we’re out in public where there are threats…although…the thrill of public sex is…”
“Babe,” Nat admonishes but she can’t hide her smile.
You give her a sad face. “I want to climb this man like a tree.”
“Then just do it. The next time you have him alone. Do it. Make sure there’s no doubt he knows what you want.”
You give her a raise of your brow and take a sip of your coffee as you contemplate her advice then your lips turn up into a mischievous smirk. “I might just do exactly that.”
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“I really don’t feel like going to this party,” you admit as you sit in the passenger side of Bucky’s SUV. “I’d rather stay home.
Bucky’s gaze quickly flicks to you, his eyes running down your body before he focuses back on the road.
“I thought you liked these parties.”
“I do. But not all the time. Being home in pajamas is nice too.”
He nods in agreement.
“I don’t even like this dress that much. I’m not sure it suits me.”
You turn his way and note the white knuckled grip he has on the steering wheel.
“What do you think?” you ask.
“About?” he counters.
“My dress.”
“It’s fine,” he states.
Your mouth drops open with indignation but apparently he wasn’t done commenting.
“You always look perfect.”
“Thanks,” you whisper, looking away to hide your triumphant smile.
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“Bucky,” you say quietly as you walk up next to him. “I’m ready to go. My feet hurt and I’m kind of tired. Take me home.”
He nods as he stares at you.
You lean up to kiss his cheek, breaking him out of his trance. “Thank you.”
He gives you his arm and you wind yours through it, leaning into him as you walk toward the elevator.
“Not another elevator,” you mutter.
“We can take the stairs if you prefer,” Bucky offers. “It’s only two flights.”
You look down at your shoes, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. The action draws his attention to your mouth and you catch him staring. Again.
“What are the chances we’ll get stuck again?” you ask warily.
“Very unlikely,” he tells you with a soft smile.
He helps you into the car, the ride is mostly silent other than your few short questions and his even shorter answers.
“You know I never got to thank you with that drink,” you say when you pull up to your house.
“For what?” he asks, looking genuinely confused.
“For helping me in the elevator last week. If you hadn’t been there I’m not sure how bad it would have gotten.”
“Doll,” he starts. “It was nothing. I’m glad I could have been there to help. It’s all in a days work.”
You hold his gaze, shifting in your seat at its intensity. Your movement draws his eyes to your legs and you see heat replace some of the intensity.
He clears his throat. “Let me walk you to the door.” Without another word he gets out and rounds the SUV.
You try to hide your disappointment and take his outstretched hand, sliding from the seat. You stumble on your heel and your palms land flat on his broad chest just before he reaches out to steady you.
“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’m ready to be out of these shoes.”
He chuckles and waits until you’re steady on your feet once again. His hand rests on your lower back as you walk toward the door.
You’re not even half way up the walkway when the sky opens up and the rains starts. You screech and try to run but Bucky grabs you, motioning down to your shoes.
“Easy doll. Don’t want you taking a tumble.”
You cling to him as you move toward the porch, already soaking through.
“You can’t go home like this,” you tell him when you reach the door.
He looks down at his clothes, wet and sticking to his skin. “I’ll be fine doll face.”
“Bucky,” you sigh. “At least come in and dry off.”
The muscle in his jaw flexes as his eyes flicker to your body, your wet dress molded to every last curve.  When he meets your eyes again you startle at his expression. His blue eyes are darker and filled with hunger, something he does little to hide now.
You turn away, still unsure if he’s going to follow but then you feel his heat at your back as he comes inside and shuts and locks the door.
“Hang on. I’ll get some towels.”
Before bringing him the towels, you quickly peel off your dress, dry off and change. When you arrive back downstairs he’s standing in your foyer and trying to take off his suit jacket.
You giggle at the sight and rush over you help him pull off the sleeves, the material sticky from the rain.
“Thanks doll,” he murmurs as he takes the towel.
He begins to dry off, patting his shirt and running the towel over his hair.
“You need to take his off,” you tell him sternly then reach up to the buttons of his shirt. “I can put it in the dryer for you.”
He whispers your name, his eyes on your fingers as they slowly undo each button. You separate the sides of his shirt to reveal his skin, glistening from the wetness of the material.
You press your fingertips to the upper right side of his chest, touching a circular scar.
“Is this a bullet wound?” you ask, your voice thick with emotion.
“A sniper,” he answers quietly. “And not a very good one.”
“What do you mean?” you whisper, looking up into his eyes. “He shot you!”
“I’m sure he was aiming for my head.”
He says it so casually, but the thought makes you feel sick.
You swallow hard, your fingers trembling as you move them lower, trailing them across a large gash that runs over his ribs.
“And this?”
“Bar fight. Some assholes like to pick fights with soldiers.”
“It looks bad.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. But I survived.”
Your fingers move over his cool skin, his abdominals flexing under your touch as you slide them lower, through the dark trail of hair that disappears into his pants.
“Doll?” he growls, gently grabbing your wrist.
You wrench your eyes away from his body and look up at him in surprise.
“I…” you start, “I’m sorry. It’s just…I want….”
“This isn’t a good idea,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Why not?” you counter, wanting to pout like a child.
You must be doing just that because he lifts his free hand and brushes his thumb across your lower lip before he traces the curve of your jaw.
“I can’t do my job properly if all I can think about is getting my mouth and hands on you. I need to keep you safe.”
His words are pained and you can see the war in his eyes.
“But there are no threats right now. It’s just you and I, safe at home.”
He’s still holding your wrist and you slip free of his grasp, taking his hand in yours and placing it just above the neckline of your tank top.
“Touch me Bucky. Please.”
You leave his hand there and lift yours to push his shirt from his shoulders. You have to tug the wet material off his arms but once he’s free of it you let your fingertips ghost along his skin, goosebumps forming in their wake.
“Doll,” he pleads, his eyes closing.
When you reach the button of his pants you toy with it before deftly popping it open. His arousal strains hard against the fabric and you suck in a breath.
He finally stirs, his eyes opening and focusing all their intensity on you and the path of his hand across your collarbone.
His calloused fingertips are feather light as they slide along your shoulder until they trace along the column of your throat. His large hand closes around the back of your neck and he tilts your head back, dragging you into his chest.
He dips his head, his lips hovering just above yours as he whispers, “if we do this…”
“Yes,” you breathe out, your eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.
“You need to know something doll.”
His nose bumps yours as he brushes it over your skin, his lips moving to shell of your ear.
“What?” you gasp, your nails digging into his chest.
“You belong to me now.”
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@book-dragon-13 @goldylions @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @lookiamtrying @late-to-the-party-81 @laineyreads @justkinsey @beccablogsthings @flordeamatista @sstan-hoe @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814​ @buckysdollforlife​
2K notes · View notes
buckrecs · 10 months
Text
𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 : 𝙅𝙪𝙣𝙚
masterlist | monthly fic rec masterlist
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FLUFF
Exhausted by @moonvis
Uncle Bucky by @/moonvis
Trying To Study by @pitubea1910
Secure Your Back by @writingcroissant
poppies and babies’ breath by @lizzie-is-here
More than friends by @theeleggymeggy
Lovesick by @/theeleggymeggy
Protecting What’s His by @jobean12-blog (bodyguard!bucky)
Pieces of Us by @majestyeverlasting
As Many As You Want by @/majestyeverlasting
How I Met Your Father by @pomelo-villano
Nerd by @imgoingtofreakoutnow
Trouble Doubled by @certifiedskywalker
magnetic mishaps by @aneluvs
Angel Eyes by @killatravtramp
hint dropped by @rocketrhap3000
pre-mission blues by @buckysblanket (husband!bucky)
Nightmares by @waiting4inspiration
Safe and Sound by @talesofesther
voicemails by @lovelybarnes
Chicken Soup for the Soul by @sebbytrash
Baking (fails) with bucky by @winter-soldier-vibes
booked on a feeling by @intrepidacious (librarian!bucky)
Theater by @loving-barnes
Sleepyhead by @tom-holland-parker
A Good Man by @/tom-holland-parker
A New Uniform by @hopelessromantic423
Manicure by @itsapeterthing
Speechless by @/itsapeterthing
I’ll Stop The World And Melt With You by @shamevillain
Flustered 2 by @/lovelybarnes
Aroma by @navybrat817
The Animal Within by @/navybrat817
ending unplanned by @starryevermore (bookstore au)
only angel by @cherryrogers (40s!bucky)
IDGAF by @amandaoftherosemire
Sleepy by @sunflowers-and-bucky
Happy Beans by @/rookthorne (barista!bucky)
Imagine by @buckyalpine
Shy Boy by @hiddles-and-skittles
A Good Man by @beyondspaceandstars
Meet The Parents by @/navybrat817
before sunset, i fell by @atlaese (modern au)
Lemonade and shields by @/atlaese
Old Fashioned by @rookthorne
ANGST
Tip of the Tongue by @bucky-fricking-barnes
Who Did This To You? by @espinosaurusrexex
“Accidentally” by @/pomelo-villano
Just Tell Her by @girl-next-door-writes
New Love by @ro-is-struggling
jealousy, jealousy by @malum-forev
Jealous by @sweetbbarnes
A New Life? by @/waiting4inspiration (phoenix!reader)
We mend each other by @/talesofesther
Green by @/itsapeterthing
Smoke by @shurisneakers
The Ultimatum by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky
feel me by @flordeamatista (siren!reader)
youngblood by @sebbies (boxer!bucky)
Safe Place To Land by @sunlightdances (modern au)
Too Much (Not Enough) by @touchstarvedirl
SMUT
Be it revenge or moving on by @writingsoftheloser
Cherry by @sweetdreamsbuck (camboy!bucky)
Your Daddy Did It Better by @princessbellecerise (billionaire!bucky)
Wrapped In Red by @/flordeamatista
2K notes · View notes
world-of-aus · 8 months
Text
Safe With Me
Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky x MobDaughter!Reader
Warnings: hints of previous domestic abuse (very small hints), angsty, protective bucky (he's a warning folks).
Author's Note: I've been wanting bodyguard!bucky for a hot minute and here is part one of a two part installment. He's my grumpy turned sunshine I never new I needed till now! I also want to thank @winterwitch-trash for constantly sending me into the afterlife with her inspirations for this piece. Happy Readings Buns <3
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Boisterous laughter fills your ears as you step a heeled foot into the extravagant hall. The room is filled with business suits and dazzling dresses.
His hand tap yours where it’s wrapped tightly around his bicep, your gaze meets his, a warm reassuring smile on his lips. A tilt to your head and he’s leading you further into the room, pulling you into the pool of suits and dresses, the laughter all consuming as he pulls you further in to the masses.
You slip into your role as he guides you, a warm pleasant smile on your lips, a tilt to your head as you greet the bigheaded business suit and his dazzling dress. He leads the two of you till your face to face with your father and his company. The men of the group can barely spare you a glance much less a proper greeting as they take to the man who holds you on his arm. You find the women are kinder acknowledging your presence with a nod of their head, it was the most you had found they were allowed to do at these events.
Caught up in a conversation your father takes the time to acknowledge you, his voice low as he leans in. “You are to stay with him at all times tonight, where you go, he goes, is that understood?” You want to ask if he’s here, there’s no other reason your dad would abide you caution if there wasn’t a threat involved. He leans back, eyes trained on yours, “do as I say.” A finality to his somewhat cryptic statement. You offer a tight-lipped nod, watching as he throws himself into the conversation.
Unlike the other women of the group, you don’t grow bored, your nerves on edge as you glance 9around the hall. Eyes scanning the business suits for him, you knew he was here. He had been set to take over the business when you hung off his arm, you had no doubt with the time that passed that he had already claimed the title.
So intent on finding his eyes you don’t feel Bucky lean in till he’s whispering into your ear, “let’s go dance.” He breaks your trance, head tilting to look at him but he’s turned to your fathers group dismissing the two of you with a promise to the men to grab a drink later. Your father catches him before he can whisk the two of you off, whispering something into his ear, it’s when the two separate eye to eye that you catch your fathers look, it was enough for you.
With a pat to Bucky’s arm, he sends the two of you off, your grip on his bicep tightening as you part through the group. His hand lays over yours squeezing, thumb brushing over your skin soothing. Bucky had grown so attune to you over the months, learning to read you better than most in your life could. There was nothing you could hide from the broad-shouldered brunette, not anymore.
You break onto the dance floor, his body turning into yours as he molds you to him, your hand clasped tightly in his. It’s quiet for a moment between you two as you let him take the lead, body pressing further into his as he takes you around the floor. He leans into you, “you’re safe with me, he’ll never lay another hand on you as long as I’m around.”
You want to ask him how long that looks like, want to ask him about the contract your father drew up and had him sign that fateful morning in his office months ago. You had no part in it despite it being drawn up for you and your safety. “What troubles you,” he breathes into your hair.
You lean into the motion, “you won’t be able to keep me safe forever,” your murmur into the black velvet of his suit. “What will happen when the contract you signed with my father is up? Surely there will be other jobs needing you, once your time here is done.” Your feet slow, the hand that rests on your back squeezes, “you need not worry about that, to worry about what your future holds, stay here in the present with me.”
You can’t help but to think of the future; a future without Bucky Barnes in it. He wraps you closer, your head finding his shoulder as he sways the two of you amongst the mass. The question of how long you had left with him sitting on your tongue. You don’t ask, not wanting to break the moment you share with ‘what ifs’. You wondered if you had held your walls as high as Bucky had when you were first introduced to him all those months ago if you might have saved your heart from the pain that would come when his time was up.
The hand that held yours finds your cheek, beckoning you from your spot on his shoulder. Your eyes find his, the question wants to fall of your tongue but a voice that has your blood running cold stops it altogether. Bucky’s form goes rigid when you freeze in his arms, fear clouding your features at the man that has appeared from the masses behind you.
“For claiming to be so devoted you move on rather quick, petal,” he spits.
Your eyes slip shut, breathing in deep as you steel yourself, you would not let yourself live in fear over this man. It’s what he wanted, wanting to keep you down when you were already in the dirt. You had lived it enough when you were with him, no more would you allow him to have you cowering before him. Enough was enough. There would be a time where the man that held you, the man who made you feel safe wouldn’t be there, and you needed to be ready to face things alone. Steeling yourself, you compose your features, throwing on a smile as you turn on your heel Bucky’s hand still on you offering you a sense of comfort as you turn to face them.
Your stomach drops at the sight, but your smile remains, “what a pleasant surprise Rumlow,” you greet, your eyes flicking over to his mistress, the one he had in your bed far too many times to count. “Elizabeth, you look radiant, you’re glowing,” you add as you allow your eyes to drift down to her swollen belly. It would have only been a matter of time before she fell pregnant with his child, you’re just glad it hadn’t happened with you there.
“Not sure we can say the same for you,” Rumlow throws in smugly. He wants a fight, wants you to bark back so he can find a way to put you in your place, like he did when you were under him. Bucky can sense his intentions as he presses into you, the hand that laid at your back now curled into a fist.
“Well surely you can’t say the same, because we’re not the same.”
Despite the lack of venom in your tone, Rumlow bites, “He’ll grow tired of you as well,” he murmurs eyes flickering to Bucky, “don’t lock yourself down with this one pal,” he finds your eyes again, “she isn’t worth it.” Bucky should have stepped in sooner but the feel of you shaking form in his arms draws the line. “Rumlow is it?” he questions as he steps forward, his form shadowing yours as he puts himself between you and the man you once called your fiancé “listen pal I don’t appreciate the way you’ve been talking down to my girl, now I’ve tried to respect her wishes of being on my best behavior tonight but I think it’d be best if you and your partner here walked away now, were trying to enjoy ourselves, surely there are others around that you can get your ego stroked with that isn’t mine.”
Rumlow looks visibly ticked by Bucky, his hand clenched at his side, but he knew better than to start anything tonight, no one ever dared to start a fight on a night like this. The dark haired brunette clears his throat as he steps forward towards you. No regard for Bucky he gets as close as he can voice low and menacing as he speaks directly at you, “your daddy’s little guard dog can’t protect you forever,” he steps back smirk on his lips as he takes the two of you in, “pleasure seeing the two of you, and y/n ill see you soon.” he says over his shoulder as he walks past the two of you.
Bucky’s eyes follow the man as he goes but your frozen on his words, heart pounding in your chest, a ringing in your ears that screams its all too much. You suck in a shaky breath, the need to run all but suffocating, you’re slipping from Buckys hold as you move forward, smile pressed on your lips despite the dread consuming you whole. You squeeze through the business suit and dazzling dress, slipping your way through the crowd the exit at the forefront of your mind.
His voice is a light buzz in your ear but you can hear him call for you, telling you to wait, slow down, but your feet won’t allow it, your racing heart making it harder to breathe the longer you’re in here. You make it out past the grand doors, feet barely just meeting the edge of the first stair before you’re being pulled back into a broad chest. His hands are on you, turning you in his hold muffling the first cry that tears from your lips. “It’s okay,” he breathes into your hair, “I’ve got you, you’re safe with me.”
Your fingers clutch at the lapels of his suit, “he’s never going to stop, and you won’t be here forever, I – I can’t do this anymore, I'm not strong enough to do this."
Bucky prays you don’t feel the way he tenses up at your words, the way his heart skips a beat, he pulls you into his arms tighter, lips finding your head, “you're stronger than anyone I've ever had the privilege of working under y/n, we're going to figure this out, I've got you, I promise you I've got you." You want to scream into the night air but settle on the choked sob that makes it past your lips instead.
"It's just so unfair," you whisper into his jacket. You weren't sure what you found more unfair though.
The situation with Rumlow, or your newfound situation with Bucky.
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darkdemeter · 2 months
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(OLD VAR.) THE GOLD OF WINTER: PRINCESS OF THEATRICS
The DARK DEMETER WRITING CATALOGUE, BUCKY BARNES COLUMN #1 —
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—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—
Dark! Mob & Bodyguard! Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Female Reader
A/N — It took a little bit to get my ideas into the document but I finally did it! just a la dash of procrastination and writer brain turning off the second I tried to write. Ya know, the fun stuff. But can we just appreciate the gif combo for a second? Hehe, I love it! I had no idea how to begin the first chapter until I put these two together.
WORD COUNT — 3.2k
READER DISCRETION — Mob related stuff — accusations and eluded to sensitive/potential triggering stuff (Bucky's a good boy though, he didn't do anything) — reader being a complete brat and princess — reader is also kinda a bitch? — minor negative name calling (psychopath term is used) — pet names used by parents — Reader does call her father "daddy"... and yes, I was uncomfortable when writing that but it also felt authentic for character. Kill me. — Tony says hi btw — semi-dark Bucky — Winter Soldier mindset bc this boy wants to protect — I think that's it?
— NEXT COLUMN
SUMMARY — You enjoy the finer things in life, that much is certain. But does that enjoyment extend over to your new bodyguard being present in your room while you were unconscious? Well then, you're in for quite the wake up call, Princess of theatrics. Will your father end up doing what he does best when it comes to his beloved daughter crying about it?
You believed it all to be some bad dream. That’s what you convince yourself during the time spent in your bath with a hulking mass of a man just a door away. Locked, but with a simple kick of one strong leg and that lock’s usefulness expires. So much for keeping your composure, you would put your mother and grandmother both in their graves at the poor display of panic, not to say that you didn’t at least try, but the man’s warning against your resolve to arm yourself broke something inside you. Overall, you had become a deer in headlights under his penetrative gaze. 
Cold eyes that are the sort that have seen some shit, and the direct hold they had on your very soul keep you anchored in the bath. You cannot move. Not yet. You’re not ready to face him again just yet but the water is growing lukewarm quickly. Soon enough it will become chilly against the palette of your skin. 
Never has a man’s eyes made your skin come alight, like something coolly searing the under of your skin, and strike fear so absolute into your heart to the point. Everything about him screamed the utter opposite of your previous guards. They were the white collar unit of professionalism. This man, whoever he was or claimed to be, is the striking resemblance of a wolf on the loose. A fiend with a threatening hue to his otherwise pair of admirable blue eyes.
Leaving the bath and only sanctuary, you feel a sense of dread sinking into the pit of your stomach. What if he kills you the moment you go back into your room? 
He assured you he was your new bodyguard but that couldn’t be right. No, it was all just some fever dream. How much did you drink at the party? Nevermind, you don’t want to think about the champagne you consumed tonight. 
If you just go to bed then everything will go back to normal in the morning. You dress yourself, albeit slowly to draw out the virus of thoughts that he was anything but a figment of your imagination, a silk and lace chemise nightgown falls over the curves of your body and grazes the tops of your thighs, after that you ensure your hair is soothed by the creams to keep it maintained. As an extra layer of protection, you hoped it wasn’t needed when you realise your champagne induced hallucination was gone, you pull your robe over your shoulders and fold the near transparent fabric over your breasts. 
There. That will… ugh, forget about it. 
Now you’re starting to sound just like your father. Forget about it. 
“Okay,” you breathe to yourself, “it’s no big deal. This is all… this is all just some, uh, weird dream. I’m going to go back in there and go to sleep. I have to sleep this off.” You nod to yourself in the reflection of your misted bathroom mirror. You can do this. 
 Finally you turn to the door of the ensuite to brave the face of the nightmare that lurked in your room. But the moment you unlock that door and take a step forward, you make direct eye contact with the masked man standing not even a few feet away from the bathroom door and your vision goes dark. 
You don’t remember making it to the bed. You black out before you could make it through the ensuite threshold before blackness consumes you. 
Sunlight pours through the sheer curtains in streams of muffled brightness. The purest form of alarm to wake you from that horrendous experience of a nightmare. But it’s over now. Today is to be a new day and you have much to do. There’s no time to dwell on such dark themes. 
With a relaxed sigh of contentment and shoulders lowering, you sit up from the comfort of your mattress, the fabric smooth against the contours of your skin, wisps of hair sweep over the frame of your face and you have to tuck them back in an easy-to-win battle with the smooth locks. The joys of having perfect hair was not all it seemed. Even you were the target of messy bed hair, at least you had the decency to make it look hot. 
But it’s all short lived. 
That’s when your lax expression commits to a complete 180 and your brows knit together, confused by how you’re suddenly in your bed when last you remember, you were over there…
You can see him out of the corner of your eye, seated right there in one of the twin, cream and plush chairs located in the corner by the tall window panels that overlook your balcony. The come to reality moment is bursting through that bubble, your perfect little world, is on the brink of collapse as it pounds on the protective shield around you. 
It wasn’t a bad dream. It happened. At a snail’s pace do you engage your attention fully to that corner and you suddenly wish you hadn’t. He’s staring at you without an ounce of shame in those bright blue and unblinking eyes, his body far too large and rigid in his seat. Even in the light of day he still carries that aura that threatens you silently but not directly at you. 
His mere presence doesn’t seem to mean you any harm, any offence or threat yet it still does. 
Something in your jaw loses its ability to function and your chin drops. Oh, but how your vocals work just fine. You barely register the formation of a pained wince etched into the top portion of his covered face, you’re far too engrossed in shrieking in sheer terror and leaping off the giant marshmallow you call a bed. 
This was not how your morning was supposed to go.
He offers no apology for his invasion of your privacy nor any words to reinstate why his presence is still in your room. You have to sleep here! It’s your room. Not his. Granted that you don’t even give him the chance but you held your reservations he would say anything of the kind. He didn’t exude the type to apologise for doing what he apparently wanted or needed to do.
You’ve taken to sprinting down the hall as fast as your legs can carry you. You don’t match the speed of a cheetah, even entertaining the thought that you can outrun him, given his record time to cross the mere space of your room in seconds, you at least try to make an effort. 
The halls once familiar to wander through now feel like a maze you cannot figure out. They wind and bend every which way to confuse you as your brooding visitor stalks after you, the rhythm of his heavy clad footfall, in which pursues you is eerily calm yet too quick to lag far behind. 
Shit, even when you’re running full pelt he still manages to keep up with you with his powerful strides. 
What chills you deep to your core is that his piercing blue eyes keep a laser focus on you. Never once do they falter from your fleeting form. 
A game of cat and mouse but max the cat’s size to that of a tiger and you have an accurate portrayal for how small you feel under his watchful eyes alone. Any closer, like he had been last night, and the difference is noticeable without fail. 
The halls echo with your terrorised screams and pleaful cries for your parents’ intervention. Your father is the King of the mob world. He’d sort this roguish man out without a doubt. Just the sight of you alone would be enough to put your pursuer behind bars, the possibilities were endless for his crimes of scaring you half to death and proceeding to reside in your bedroom without your consent or knowledge.
Ignoring the questionable stares of your staff, you sprint through the patio archways and down the few steps into the hedge garden, the lush cushion of clean cut grass is soft and warm against your bare feet. 
Just a glance behind you and he’s on your tail, flanking you hard and fast. 
“Princess.” His voice booms through his dark mask. You don’t listen to his order that compels you to quit while you’re ahead. Just like the gun in your drawer he caught onto. The move you make next is tricky and almost costs you your balance as you slip around the hedge corner. 
For a split moment you actually believe you finally gave him the slip in the green maze when you cut around another corner sharply. 
The sweet relief you feel when you see the poolside cabana - occupied by your parents - and with other witnesses, you could have cried right then and there. Perfect. He couldn’t do anything to you when your parents were around. 
“Daddy! Dad, Help me! DADDY!”
Your voice cracks under the weight of your distressed state. For a moment you see pure fear wash over your father’s visage like a white flush. Your mother, strangely yet so knowingly, portrays an excellence of calm despite your frantic self barrelling towards them. 
The eyes each belonging to several men seated alongside them in the cabana turn to you, curiosity in their brows as they pull down hard in their confusion. Whatever could have you screaming the entire mansion down like the walls of jericho?
“My precious golden flower, what’s wrong?” His shoulders are square as he stands tall and firm, arms held out to hold you when you then proceed to crash into him. His body is momentarily stunned that it flinches from the rushed contact.
“There’s a man! There’s a man chasing after me, h-he was in m-my room last night– Daddy, you have to do something–”
“Ah, I take it that’s him.” One of the men utter from his spot, fully immersed in the comfort of his seat in the sun to bask in the seriousness of your problem. A very dire problem at that. You’re chased down by a ruffian and nobody is so much as asking if you’re alright or checking you over, doting upon you. 
The sight of you ducking behind your father, robe flowing behind you with such elegance, is considered in a gamble whether it was worth the trouble you’ve put the man after you through. Who knew you’d be such a handful of top tier drama that puts the most obnoxious soap operas to shame.
You squeak behind the suited wall of your father, “that’s him, get him away from me Daddy, please! Get him away.” 
The other wall of walking leather, straps and buckles, metal arm reflecting a powerful amount of sun it catches in your eyes and blinds you for a few seconds, he surges forward with unbridled restraint to reach you until he’s mere feet from you and your father, whose stern facade instantly cracks with a boisterous laugh. With a visage of utter shock your head snaps in the direction of your mother, the means and dependency of her support now critical on her, the older woman whom you respect without measure, smirks over the rim of her teacup. 
So much for the support you had hoped to garner. You would need to go into witness protection because of this guy. 
Why is nobody doing anything?! Do they not see the madness in this? 
“Oh, my darling princess,” your father dares to coo softly as if speaking to you as if you’re a child, “you needn’t be afraid of him.”
“I find that very hard to believe! I demand you remove him from my sight at once.” 
To place more distance between yourself and the man your father claims means you no harm, you move until you’re hiding behind the safeguard that is your mother. You pace back and forth in the safety of your newfound distance, palm pressed to your forehead. “Somebody get him away from me, please? I cannot begin to fathom the audacity of this. He was in my room last night–”
“My child, you’re being a tad bit dramatic about this.” 
It’s your mother who scolds your behaviour, however much she adores you she always scorned your tendencies to be a dramatic flare, waving about until your flame for theatrics burnt out. But this isn’t one of those times that the stylist messed up your hair or switched out your outfit last minute before you went on the runway. 
No. This is serious. This man could have done anything to you while you slept. Even though you appear to be clear of any bruises or anything else of a more nefarious nature, the point still stands. You shake your head in her adamant stance. Like a pouting child you stomp your feet when the problem is not resolved your way and in a moment’s instant. Any other man and your father would have the man cropped at the knee before being ruthlessly beaten to a bloody pulp, only to then be locked away in the trunk to be dealt with off property. 
“Father!” you shriek angrily that your cheeks flush a bright hue of red. The company surrounding you swears by it they see steam flare out your nose. The man in tactical gear takes one step forward and you flinch. If he dared to take one more step towards you and you would have no choice but to throw yourself into the pool. As humiliating as that would be and for a man you’re repeatedly told won’t hurt you, he sure isn’t building his case to be trustworthy of such an oath. Your parents both have not seen this visceral of a reaction from you since you saw that spider in your changing room.
But this is completely different. 
“Sweetheart, this is the Winter Soldier. He’s been assigned as your new bodyguard. I swear it, darling, he will not hurt you.” Your mother delivers such news with such a nonchalant attitude it leaves you in a state of shock. 
How you want to believe their words and in all honesty, you almost do out of a habit to blindly trust in the bond between parent and child. But you refute their assurances. You’re in denial at this point because there is no way in hell that any of this is your new reality. It can’t be!
Your father sighs to himself. The hard lines in his brows says it all, that this is the new set of circumstances. The new norm of your life. His eyes  implore you to listen. “Mr Stark credits his efforts, my dear. The world’s most esteemed and dangerous assassin to safeguard you. You have absolutely nothing to fear.”
“Quite right.” Said man, Mr Stark, finally puts to bed the case with one of the most prideful smirks you’ve ever seen grace a man’s face. And it wasn’t that of the sleazy, untrustworthy kind too. No, he knew and held a stronghold of faith to his words. 
“The Winter Soldier is the best security a young and beautiful woman like you can have. There are many dangers but with him around, a fly won’t so much as bother you.”
You continue to pace where you still feel at ease without the closeness of your so-called bodyguard and his holstered breath beating down your neck. “So you hired a six-foot-behemoth of a psychopath to be my new form of security, without telling me about it?” 
The soldier’s head tilts ever so slightly to the side as the bevel between his dark brows deepens. His bright blue eyes that stare at you with such focused intensity narrow and that pang of fear returns. 
Your father calmly raises a hand and out of habit your spitfire instantly ceases on the tip of your tongue. “It was not my intention to alarm you, my darling princess. But this is the only way to ensure you are out of harm's way. Now more than ever, rivals vie for the power we have. I must know that you will be protected at all costs.”
“But dad–”
“I will hear no more arguments about it. Do I make myself clear?”
The muscle in your throat bobs gently as you swallow, eyes scanning the soldier from head to toe. He may have not hurt you before but now you weren’t entirely sure. You did technically call him unstable and perhaps, even to yourself now, that was an insensitive call. Now you may very well have to worry about actually waking up without a slit throat. 
You finally nod when your father reinforces his command, this time his tone is far more stern akin to the level he uses to order his men. 
In the world of mobsters, your father is the first and single man you never want to cross nor upset. But now another rises high on a competing pedestal and he stands no less than several feet away from you. “Yes, Father.”
“Good,” your father says with a sigh of relief and he begins to usher you off, “now if I recall correctly, you have some business to attend to in New York. The jet is taking off in less than an hour so I suggest you get a move on.”
You appear to have the look of a fish out of water. “W-wait a second–”
Still your father attempts to shoo you away with one hand as the other beckons forward the Winter Soldier and to his order, the towering behemoth you now call bodyguard steps towards you. Like a skittish bunny you begin to freak out. 
“Daddy! No, no, what are you suggesting? Dad, no, he’s not going to New York with me. He can’t!” 
“Flower, he has to. He’s your bodyguard, now I have business to get to with Mr Stark and his crew. If you will excuse me.”
“You’re in good hands, my love,” your mother calls after you, you don’t catch the wide and plotting smirk plastered over her red-stained lips, too engrossed in the bickering both you and your father participate in. “He’s not coming,” you huff and your father’s lips form that thin line. He silently questions why you fight him so vigorously with every fibre in your being. “He’s not coming to New York with me. It’s not happening.”
Anything for the daughter of the King, right?
Wrong. Not this time. 
Metal fingers ghost over the small of your back as he directs you away from your father, your line of safety. He’s to be your new line of security, of safety, but his loyalty is a question at play in your mind like a record repeating the same beat of music. 
You can smell the texture of leather on him and what’s worse, a chill wracks down the column of your spine when his hot breath pants over the exposed flesh of your shoulder, unguarded by your robe. 
How were you going to concentrate on the day ahead? A photoshoot appointment in two hours in New York City, a lunch and shopping spree with friends in the city, and to top it all off you were to attend an art gala that evening.
You hope your new bodyguard doesn’t see the way your face flushes in embarrassment at the recollection that your photoshoot was for a new lingerie line. 
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TREEHOUSE TAGLIST —
@identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch
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harleyquinn3289 · 3 months
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Calling all Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier fans. I'm looking for some stories with Bucky/Winter Soldier stories. If you know any good ones comment below 👇 where I need to look. It could be the name of the stories or the name of the writers. Thank you. 👋 💜 💙
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His Silly Princess | Bucky (Oneshot)
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Character: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader
Words Count: 1,671
Summary: A modern royal love story. A naive princess who wants to get away from an arranged marriage. She never knew that her guard had loved her since the beginning. 
Main Masterlist || support me: Ko-fi
Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 
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Zylovia is a country where monarchy still exists. It’s a developed country located near Western Europe. 
It’s a prosperous country, and the number of unemployed is also the lowest. Tourists love coming here for the casino, race car, and music festival. 
But this country has one outdated rule. It didn’t apply to the citizens. Only for the royal family. 
“If the female royal member marries a commoner, she will lose her status."
You learned that rule when you were 12 years old as the youngest siblings and Princess Zylovia. You didn't put a deep thought into it. 
But now, when you are almost 30 years old, and your older siblings are already married, you think this is good for you.
Because you realize you’re not fit to do the duty as a princess. 
Your oldest brother has prepared since he was a kid to be the king. When he reaches the age of 40, he will be crowned as the king. Your second brother will be the second commander in the military. 
While you have a job as a painting conservator at the museum, your duty as a princess is to welcome the official foreign guest at the castle. You learned some languages, but you’re not allowed to give any opinion on politics.
You don’t hate being a royal, but sometimes you feel like living in a golden cage. 
And finally, you had enough because, on your recent birthday, your parents talked to you about marriage. 
The king and queen don’t want to be separated from their youngest daughter, but they hint that they wish for her future husband from the royal circle. In other words: arranged marriage. 
You clenched your jaw while smiling at your parents. If the man from the royal circle is a real gentleman, you wouldn’t mind. 
But the problem is, please pardon the harsh language; none of the men from the royal family are your type. 
Your type of man must have a stable job, look good in suits, and have a nice body. 
That’s why, for a couple of days, you’ve made a list of potential future husbands. After you write it, you realize most of the men are from the knights. Perhaps because you always went to meet your second brother at the military training ground, so you know some people. 
Steve Rogers
[Friendly, not married, nerd, loves to paint like me]
Ari Levinson 
[Funny, beautiful hair, handsome]
‘Knock, knock!’ Suddenly, someone knocked on your door.
“Come in.”
You didn’t have to turn around to see who it was. You have known him for years, and your ears are familiar with the sound of his footsteps. 
The person who walked into your room has been your exclusive bodyguard for years - James Barnes, but you always call him Bucky his nickname. 
Bucky is a commoner and an elite soldier. If there’s a shooting competition, he will be in the top three. Your second brother always hates him. 
He has received many medals of honors, but he rejects a knight title from your father. You don’t understand why he declined the offer. If he received it, he could enter politics, and he doesn’t have to follow her around anymore. 
He’s tall, handsome, with perfect blue eyes and has fine muscles on his body. Bucky also has a primarily female fanbase when he wears the military uniform and rides a horse at the independence ceremony. 
He became a celebrity overnight.
But you have never seen or heard any rumor about him with a woman. 
“Your highness, in two hours you are going to attend the tennis tournament.” 
You dropped the pen and dropped your head to the table. “Urgh. Do I have to?”
Bucky chuckled when he saw you unwilling to go. One thing you hate about your duty is to be the guest at the tennis game. You prefer to watch the race car, but it's reserved for your brother's. 
Even though you didn’t want to go, you still dragged your feet to the dressing room to grab your coat. 
When you were searching for the right outfit, you suddenly remembered. “Oh no!” You didn’t hide the potential list that you just wrote. You wish you could dig your own grave and disappear. 
And you were right; Bucky saw your writing. He furrowed his eyebrows while he read your paper. “What’s this? Potential man for marriage?”
You stand beside him; you don’t know why you feel scared. This is the first time you have seen him like this. 
His slender, pointed fingers scratched the two names with his nails. There’s a big X on your paper. 
“Don’t marry any of those men.”
“Why?”
A small smile appeared on his lips, along with a soft voice, “Steve hasn’t moved on from his last girlfriend, and Ari, he loves to drink alcohol. I know you hate the smell of alcohol.”
You felt disappointed; you crumpled the paper and threw it into the trash.
“Marriage? Why all of a sudden?” There's an annoyed tone in his voice.
You rubbed your head and muttered, “I need to get married sooner, or my parents will arrange marriage for me, their friend's kid. And you know the truth, I had enough of being a princess.”
Bucky crossed his arms. “But, why them?”
“What?”
He clenched his fist; Bucky stared at her with an annoyed expression. “Why didn't you put me on the list?”
“....”
You waved your hand. “It doesn’t matter, as long as I got married.”
“So, would you like to marry me?”
Are you having hallucinations? Did Bucky just propose to you?
Bucky got on his knees. “Let’s get married.”
You still haven’t come to your senses. Bucky started talking again. “Think about it. Both of us have known each other for a long time. We’ve known each other's likes and dislikes. We’ve been through many things together.”
He’s right. He’s the safest choice if you want to marry someone. You shrugged your shoulders and accepted his hand. “Alright.”
Bucky's beautiful smile appeared on his face. Before he shook your hand, he felt you slightly pull his hand. When you saw him smile, your heart raced. “But, if in the end, we don’t like each other, please wait after three years, then we could get a divorce.”
Bucky chuckled; his attractiveness is not just in his physical appearance but also in his ability to manage his emotions gracefully and restraintfully. He leaned closer to you, and his hands gently grabbed your chin. 
As his calloused hand touched your skin, a subtle warmth spread on your cheeks. You could feel you're blushing. “Silly girl, it will never happen.”
#######
[Bucky P.O.V]
Then he rests your arms on his. “Then you have the excuse to skip the tournament.”
“Hmm?”
“We should inform this first to His Majesty and Her Majesty.”
“Oh, right.” You nodded, then looked straight into his blue eyes again. “This soon?”
********
When both of you walk through the hallway to meet the King and Queen, Bucky tries his best to calm down. He almost lost his common sense when he saw you write another man's name, and there’s a word of ‘potential husband.’
He looks at you and thinks ‘his silly princesses didn’t realize his feelings for her.’ 
Didn’t she know he declined the offer to be a knight so he could be her guard?
If he became a knight, he would work with her second brother. That’s the last thing he wants to do. 
“So, Bucky, don’t worry about money. When I resign as a princess, the kingdom will give us money.”
Bucky chuckled, seeing his sweet princess worried about their future, “That’s so sweet of you. But you don’t need to worry about that.” He gently patted her arms. He wants to tell you that he owns the famous casino in this kingdom and 5-star hotel chains in a few countries.
When both of you are married, Bucky will ensure you don’t have to work anymore. He is pretty sure that her parents will give their blessings even though he’s a commoner (and he’s super rich). The royal family has outdated rules, but because of it, he could marry you. 
Both of you arrived at the king's office room. The guards bowed their heads to greet you. Then you said, “Princesses Y/N and her guard. Wait… and her future husband, James Barnes wants to meet the king.”
The guards and the butler who opened the door lost their composure. They should have known from your body language walking here together hand in hand when usually Bucky always stands behind you. 
This news is shocking compared to the crown prince, who got caught partying too hard and the second prince, who had a messy love life before he got married. 
It seems like your father, the King, hears your voice. Before the castle butler tells him, you hear the gentle voice, “Come in.”
########
[2 years later]
<Former Princess of Zylovia Y/N, blessed with male twins>
It's the biggest headline in the country after you gave birth. You feel overwhelmed; you can't believe that you're parents now. 
The King and Queen hold your oldest son, while Bucky has the youngest son in his arms. 
Bucky's eyes are full of love, looking both at his sons. He was almost scared to death since you gave birth one month early. But the doctor assured both of you this is normal since you're pregnant with twins. 
Even though you're not a princess, you're still surrounded by your family. 
And Bucky still treats you like a princess. You almost lost your mind when he told you his business, which turned into your parents, and your brothers already know it, too. 
You want to knock your head; you didn't even know Bucky's business helped increase the country's GDP. 
Everyone said Bucky was the lucky guy to marry the former princess, but they were wrong. It's you who is lucky to marry him.
-End-
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mymoonagedaydream · 1 year
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Summary: After the incident things were looking pretty bleak, but the one thing you thought would make everything worse ended up saving you.
Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky x y/n
Word Count: 7.8k
Warnings: Language, mentions of suicide and self harm, mentions of guns and gun violence
Author’s Note: So I wrote a one shot because I cannot, for the life of me, stick to a consistent writing schedule. Enjoy!
---
You never expected anyone to feel sorry for you. That had been a pretty consistent theme throughout your life, why would anyone feel sorry for the kid who got everything they asked for? Granted, the only things in your past that might have sparked an ounce of pity were trivial, like a broken ankle or a bad break up, but even after this mess you never expected much. 
It'd been a few months now since it happened, either two or three, you weren't sure exactly- enough time for seemingly everyone you'd ever met to show up and implore you to tell the story over and over again. One or two of them did appear genuinely concerned but you couldn't shake the feeling that most of them just wanted the gossip, desperate for anything to make them the most interesting person in the room at their next garden party or champagne brunch or ambassador's reception. Every single painful, repetitive, disingenuous conversation you had to sit through served as a further reminder of why you’d left this life behind as soon as you had the chance. Now you were stuck back here for god knows how much longer, and everything just felt bleak.
A soft knock rapped against your bedroom door. You didn't bother answering, they'd just let themselves in, they always did. The knob turned and the door creaked open, your father's timid face peering in.
“Are you busy?” It was nice of him to ask, but it was also unnecessary, because you hadn’t left your couch to do anything other than pee in weeks. “Your aunt Carol is here. She brought you some gifts, I thought it might make you feel better.”
Both of you knew very well that it would have the opposite effect, the only thing you'd ever resented your mother for was bringing that vapid bitch into your life. Well, that and accidentally letting slip that the tooth fairy wasn’t real on your third birthday. 
Carol careered round the door and past your father in her typical pantomime dame dress and makeup. You smirked, thinking to yourself that, in dimmer light and with some sinister music, it would've made an excellent scene for a horror film. Ever since your mother passed she’d been sniffing around the house more and more, you were convinced she was trying to seduce your dad to get his money but you couldn't prove it. Thankfully, he had enough sense to stay the hell away from her.  
“Oh, look at you, you poor thing. You look awful.” She clunked the wrapped box and card she was holding down on the table and joined you on the couch, her offensive perfume making your nose begin to itch. “Come on, auntie Carol is here for you now, tell me everything darling.”
You gave your father, who was standing by the door looking very apologetic, a harsh glare. 
“There's not much to tell. Dad was mid-speech when some guy in the audience stood up, next thing I knew he was getting tackled and there was a loud bang. I look down and I'm bleeding.”
“Oh my, who was he?”
“Just some crazy, nationalist, militia guy targeting politicians, apparently. They have no idea if he was alone or with a group so it’s safer for me to stay here for now. My apartment is too much of a risk.”
“Bless you. It's so difficult being in the public eye, but you are so brave.” She pointed down to your stomach, “and don't worry, I've got some magic serum that'll clear up any unsightly scars ready for bikini season. I'll send you my diet plan, too.”
You turned the dial up on the daggers you were shooting your father every time she looked away, and he finally took the hint. 
“Okay, Carol. We should let her rest now.”
“Alright, love you so much baby. Look after yourself, okay? Maybe run a comb through your hair or something. Very frizzy.”
You rolled your eyes at her back as she left and reached over to grab the card. There was a sad puppy on the front, sitting beneath the words sorry you’re having a hard time. You figured that Hallmark probably didn't stock a sorry you got shot by a psychopath card.
Your father was lingering. He never lingered. 
“Everything okay, dad?”
“Yes. Although, there is something I need to tell you.”
“Go on.”
“I've hired someone.”
“Right.”
“For you,” he noted your confusion, “to protect you.”
“A bodyguard?”
“No, he's not a bodyguard.” You raised an eyebrow. “He's not just a bodyguard.”
“The hell does that mean?”
He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Wiping the sweat from his palms onto his trousers, he strode over and took a seat beside you, preparing himself with a deep breath. This was serious. 
“The last time you saw Dr Burke she recommended that we… don't leave you on your own too much. So, he's going to be looking out for your welfare, going to be spending time with you.”
“Ah, I see. Suicide watch. Great.”
“I’m worried about you. You barely eat, you don't move from that spot, you haven’t showered for weeks. I know you miss being in your own place but,” he put his hand on top of yours, “I’ve already lost your mother, I can’t lose you too.”
Well, that hit you like a punch in the gut.
“Okay, dad. If you think it’ll help.”
“I do.” He stood up, giving you a light kiss on the top of your head before turning to leave. “He’ll be here in a few hours.”
---
You were woken from a light sleep by another knock on the door. The only thing you hadn’t been struggling with recently was sleep, it was the only way you could make your days pass quicker.
Again, the door creaked open before you answered. Your dad stepped in followed by a man you assumed to be your new long-term babysitter. You’d expected someone more stern looking, someone dressed like an extra from Men in Black, but he just looked like a normal guy. He had a strong face, broad shoulders and deep brown hair. If you’d been in a different state of mind you might even have considered him attractive, but you were far too tired for anything like that.
“Sweetheart, this is-” Your father looked blankly over to his companion, obviously already having forgotten his name.
“James. Nice to meet you.”
You mustered a faint smile. There was a brief, awkward silence as your father’s eyes flicked from you back to the composed looking guest, whose huge arms were folded over his chest. 
“Well, uh- I have a call in a few minutes. I suppose I’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” he clapped a hand on James’ back, “just let me know if you need anything.”
Then, just like that, you were alone with a complete stranger. Your eyes stayed firmly fixed to the movie you’d slept through half of but were suddenly incredibly interested in. You heard James shuffle forwards, his broad frame eventually scooching into the edge of your vision.
“Look, I get it. You’re a grown-ass adult, I wouldn’t like having some stranger keeping an eye on me all the time either. If you want, I can just stick to the corner, stay out of your way. You won’t even know I’m here.”
That actually sounded like a pretty sweet deal, but you’d feel incredibly guilty having him perched on the other side of the room like a piece of furniture. The least you could do was be a little friendly.
“That’s alright, you can have the comfy seat,” you faintly motioned your head towards the nearby armchair, “but I’ll be shitty company.”
He happily settled himself in. “Makes no odds to me, I’m getting paid to be here.”
A short breathy chuckle escaped your lips, taking you by surprise. It’d been a long while since someone had made you laugh, all the conversations you’d had in the past few weeks had been unbelievably morbid and condescending, most of them with people you had no interest in talking to in the first place.
A couple of silent hours passed. You‘d gotten so used to being alone that you kept forgetting he was there, the odd cough or movement making you jump out of your skin. Eventually, Elaine pounded on the door and announced that she’d brought dinner up for both of you, so James jumped up and helped her with the cart.
Elaine was your father’s housekeeper and the only thing that had prevented him dying of starvation or exposure since your mom died. She was kind and patient, you liked her alot. Her food was always incredible, you felt awful for barely eating it over the last few weeks but the pain from your stomach wound combined with zero expenditure of energy had just killed your appetite.
James looked from his plate over to yours, his knife and fork poised. “You not eating?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“When’s the last time you ate anything?”
Someone had been talking to dad. 
You shrugged. “This morning, I think.”
“Bullshit.” Your eyes snapped in his direction. “You know you’re not gonna get any better if you don’t eat, right? You’ll just have to put up with me bugging you for even longer.”
“Thought you were gonna stay out my way?”
“Mostly.” His mouth curled into a faint smile. “How about this, you eat a couple bites, I’ll eat the rest and we’ll tell your dad you ate the whole thing.”
You considered for a second. Not a bad offer, getting your dad off your back for a while would be pretty great. You knew what game he was playing but you were more than willing to play too just as long as the benefits outweighed the drawbacks.
“Deal.”
You expended a tremendous amount of effort leaning yourself forward and grabbing the plate, feeling James’ gaze tunnelling into the side of your face as the two of you began to eat. You had to admit, you enjoyed the food much more than you’d expected, half the plate had gone before you felt full. James looked pretty smug while finishing off the rest of it.
The sky outside slowly turned dark and you could feel yourself getting sleepy, so you settled deeper into the couch for your third sleep of the day.
“Hey,” James leant forward in his seat, “you need help getting to your bed or anything?”
“Oh, no, I’m good. I usually just sleep here.”
He gave you a puzzled look. “There? Is that comfortable? Can’t be good for your back.”
“Probably isn’t, but I don’t have the energy to move.”
“You don’t need the energy,” he sprung up from his seat, “you’ve got me.”
Before you could comprehend what was happening, James had an arm anchored around your upper back and was inching you upwards, away from the safety of your sad-zone and onto your feet. A few mild pangs of pain shot through your stomach but it wasn’t enough to make you fight back, so you just gave in, relaxed into his grip and let him walk you across the room.
Your mattress was unbelievably comfortable and you felt knot after knot untying in your back as you stretched out flat, but you didn’t need to tell him that. Who was this magical asshole, anyway, showing up and suddenly knowing what would help you better than you did?
“I’m just gonna crash on that armchair, if that’s all good with you.”
“There?” You carefully rolled onto your side so you were facing away from him. “Can’t be good for your back.”
A deep chuckle came from behind you. “Smartass. Shout me if you need to go to the bathroom or anything.”
You just grunted, already half asleep. It was only another minute or so before you drifted off peacefully and got the best night of rest you’d had in weeks.
Maybe this babysitting thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.
---
You woke to the sound of soft snoring on the other side of the room. Light was bleeding in around the curtains and you could hear footsteps in the corridor, probably your father heading downstairs for his coffee and newspaper. Coming to your senses, you rolled over and suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to pee. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked over to see James’ limp hand hanging over the edge of the armchair. 
You didn’t need him, you could do this. 
Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and hoisting yourself up was easier than expected but that, unfortunately, made you a little overconfident for the rest of the journey. After a couple of steps the pain started. You felt pathetic but that amount of effort had actually winded you, all you could do was lower yourself to the ground to catch your breath. 
“What the hell are you doing?”
You didn’t even realise he’d woken up, you were too busy wheezing. 
“Gotta pee.” You managed to push your words out between gulped in breaths.
“What did I say last night, huh? You should’a yelled.” He lowered himself beside you, placing one arm around your back and one under your knees. “Alright, brace yourself.”
“Wait, what are you-”
You choked on your words when he lifted you clean off the floor, a feat that not many had accomplished in the past. He offered to take you as far as the toilet itself but you adamantly refused, determined to cling onto your last shred of dignity while just about managing to shuffle over there, supporting yourself on the sink. 
You washed your hands and intentionally avoided looking in the mirror, moving straight over to the door and finding your minder stood directly outside.
He folded his arms. “While you’re here, why not take a quick shower?”
“I’m not supposed to get my dressings wet.”
“Again, nice try, but you really gotta do better than that to bullshit me.”
You let out a heavy sigh. “Can’t you just let me rot away in peace?”
“I mean, I could, but I’m pretty sure your dad would refuse to pay me.”
“I’ll pay you to leave me alone.”
“You can’t afford me, honey.” He smirked and slipped past you. “I’ll get the water going.”
James turned the shower on and put some folded towels by the sink before heading back into your room and gathering some clean pyjamas. You just stayed where you were, leaning against the counter, as he buzzed around like an overexcited child.
“You’re all set. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
“Thank you, supernanny.”
He flipped you the bird. You laughed and locked the door.
Slowly, carefully, you got undressed, removed your bandages and placed them in the bin. You then had to perch yourself down on the closed toilet seat for a brief break before climbing into the shower. Standing under the water, you looked down at your wound for the first time in weeks, finding yourself amazed at how quickly it had healed. You ran your fingers over it. Never in a million years did you think you’d have a healed gunshot wound anywhere on your body. You thought back to what your aunt said, maybe it was unsightly, it certainly looked weird from this ang-
“You alright?”
James’ overbearing voice snapped you out of your train of thought.
“Yes.”
You turned off the shower and stepped out, lifting a towel to your face and savouring the feeling of finally being clean again. You couldn’t imagine how bad you must’ve smelled before. You pulled on the fresh pyjamas before taking a deep breath and wiping down the mirror, getting a nasty shock when you saw yourself. It looked like all the life had been drained out of you. Your face looked pallid, red eyes sitting above deep, dark bags while skin flaked from your chapped lips. Your hair was still dripping wet but you could tell that weeks of neglect had taken a toll on it.
It seemed like James might’ve come along just in time, any longer sitting in that misery pit and these changes might’ve become irreversible.
“Still all good?”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, just trying to remember the most efficient way to cut wrists. Is it horizontal or vertical?”
Throwing your towel in the laundry basket, you opened the door to see a very unamused looking man. 
“Real funny.”
He didn’t get a chance to properly scold you before Elaine knocked on the door with breakfast, a smug grin settling on your face as it dawned on him that he probably shouldn’t cuss you out in front of your father’s closest confidante. 
The two of you settled into your designated spots. James immediately started digging into the plate that had been piled high for him but you held off, it had been a while since you stood up for that long and you needed to recover. Sharp pangs of stomach pain weren’t exactly the perfect accompaniment to a hearty appetite.
James placed his fork down on the table and leaned back in his chair, mouth full of food. “We gotta do this again, buttercup?”
“I just need a minute.”
“I thought we had a deal.”
“We did,” a bolt of inspiration struck as you realised it was your turn to get a little something interesting out of this relationship, “but I want to change it up a bit.”
“Alright, go on.”
“I’ll eat if you tell me the most insane thing that’s happened to you while bodyguarding.”
“I really shouldn’t talk about that.”
“Shame,” you dramatically pushed your plate away with a flourish, “I was actually feeling pretty hungry.”
He considered, glaring at you from beneath an arched eyebrow and rhythmically tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair. “Fine, but you gotta finish the whole plate.”
“The whole plate.”
“Alright.” 
He leant forward again and carried on eating so you followed suit, forcing down one small bite at a time and just hoping that his story would be worth the pain.
“So, one time some rich dude hired me ‘cause his daughter was worried she had a stalker. Apparently she kept seeing someone in a black hoodie following her around, she even saw ‘em standing on their lawn a few times. Thing is, no-one else had ever seen it. I think half the reason I was hired was to figure out if she was just going crazy.”
“Was she?”
“Be patient, pumpkin. You’ll find out.” Your cheeks flushed a little when he called you that. “A couple weeks passed and I hadn’t seen anything. Then, middle of the night, everyone else was asleep and I was doing my rounds. I looked out the window to the yard and there was someone standing underneath her window in a black hoodie.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, shit. So, obviously, I sprinted down there, but they spotted me and started running. They vaulted the fence and I would’a lost ‘em in the trees but they got snagged on the other side. I grabbed ‘em, pulled down the hood and-” He eyed the huge fork-full of food you were hovering by your mouth, “you wanna eat that?”
You rolled your eyes, shoved it all in your face and let out a muffled plea. “And?”
“It was her, the daughter.”
“Fuck off.”
“Dead serious. Turns out one of her friends had a stalker and was getting a load of sympathy and attention because of it, so she got jealous and made up one of her own. She figured if I saw it just once everyone would believe her.”
“That’s so fucked. Is that even legal?”
“No idea, not my job. I got my paycheck and left the next morning.”
“Nice to know you really care about your clients.”
He laughed. “Most of my clients are spoiled assholes who never even bother to learn my name.”
“Really? Can’t be hard to learn a name as simple as Justin.” You received your second unamused scowl of the day. “Anyway, we spoiled brats have enough on our plate without having to learn the name of the person willing to take a bullet for us.”
“Nah, you’re not spoiled.”
“You think?”
“Trust me, I’ve seen spoiled. You’re not spoiled. I think you’re the only client I’ve actually enjoyed talking to.”
Interesting. Probably shouldn’t delve into that statement too deeply.
“I’d take that as a compliment but it sounds like there isn’t much competition.”
He smirked, staying silent for a few seconds before speaking again. “My friends call me Bucky, by the way. I prefer it to James. And I really prefer it to Justin.”
“If you insist,” you shrugged, “but I still think you’d make a good Timberlake.”
---
You managed to stomach a good amount of food that day and you even had a good stab at breakfast when the next day rolled around, so you hoped that Bucky might leave you to your own devices for a while now he’d got his own way.
He did not.
As soon as you’d swallowed the last mouthful of toast he announced that he was going to take you on a walk around the garden.
You looked from him to your stomach, then back at him. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. We’ll take it slow, one step at a time, and it’ll make you feel better. I promise.”
“Can’t we just open a window?”
“Nope.” He slapped his hands down on the arms of the chair and jumped to his feet. “C’mon sweetheart, you know I’m just gonna annoy the hell out of you until you agree.”
“Is threatening me allowed in your contract?”
“It’s not a threat. It’s persuasion with consequences.”
You eventually relented. He was super keen to get going but it soon became clear that he’d overestimated how far along the healing process you were, it took the two of you almost an hour just to get out of your bedroom and down the stairs with all the constant stopping for breath. Bucky went ahead and pulled open the sliding glass door, your mood instantly lifting when the first breeze of fresh air washed over you. You were starting to hate how often he was right. 
He offered you his arm and set a bench on the other side of the lawn as your goal. The neatly mowed grass felt soft between your toes, the faint sounds of birds and planes overhead helping you relax a great deal more than the constant background noise from the TV you’d kept switched on for weeks now. When you reached your goal, Bucky helped you lower yourself onto the seat and carefully squeezed himself beside you once you were settled. Sitting this close to him felt strange, you were used to him being confined to his armchair, and the bench was a pretty small one. His thigh was pressed up against yours. You tried not to think about it.
Deeply inhaling the smell of grass and flowers into your lungs made you feel like a new person but it was also making you a little drowsy, the journey down had zapped all your energy and the warmth from the morning sun was cosy and soothing. 
The next thing you remembered was your head being gently nudged, prompting your eyes to flicker open. 
“Sorry, princess. I’d let you sleep for hours but I really need to pee.”
You came to your senses and felt the crook of Bucky’s neck against the top of your head. His arm was around you, hand gently resting on your shoulder. 
“Shit, sorry.” In your embarrassment you sat up a little too quickly, wincing at the pain that shot through your stomach. 
“You alright?��
“Oh, yeah. Just, y’know, the ol’ bullet would.” You laughed off his concern and waved him away. “Go pee.”
“Alright, I’ll just be a minute, don’t move.”
“Couldn’t if I wanted to.”
He was already sprinting across the lawn when he shouted back. “That’s the spirit, sunshine.”
You shot a giddy grin at the back of his head. It still felt like morning but you had no idea how long you’d been knocked out for, you just knew you could very easily spend every night resting in Bucky’s neck like that.
---
Your shadow had been with you for about a week now and, contrary to all initial expectations, you’d actually been enjoying his company. He could be annoying as hell with his constant demands pushing you further and further when all you wanted to do was melt into the couch, but you could see that he was good for you. You supposed that being forced to spend every second of every day with someone gave you no choice but to recognize their good qualities. Thankfully, he seemed to have a lot of those. 
Elaine had just collected the dishes from lunch and Bucky had somehow stolen the remote from you. He flicked on some appallingly trashy reality show, your concentration faded in and out but every time you forced yourself to pay attention someone was either screaming or necking. 
You’d barely even registered the knock at your bedroom door when he jumped up and launched himself towards it like the diligent little soldier he was. You listened intently, your stomach turning when you heard Carol’s voice interspersed with his. Hopefully he’d assess her as a security threat and slam the door in her stupid face.
To your great disappointment, he did not. 
“Oh my,” she looked a little more like a painted old hag than a pantomime dame today, “who is that and where can I get one?”
“That’s James, dad hired him to keep an eye on me.”
“Do you know which agency he’s with?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t uncle Frank leave you the house and the security guard in his will?”
“Ugh, yes but he could’ve been a bit more thoughtful. I’d rather not have to look at that beer belly every time I drive through the front gate.”
“I see.”
You tried to plead for help from Bucky with your eyes but he was too busy giving a confused look to the back of her embroidered jacket, the one that you were convinced had been made from old curtains and lampshade tassels. She placed herself down in his seat, leaving him bewildered, turning on the spot like a glitched out video game NPC. He eventually just sat beside you. 
“So,” she crossed her veiny old legs, “did you like the present I brought you before?”
You did not like the present she brought you before. It was a self help book whose blurb encouraged you to 'break free from your own mental cage' and 'start being the best version of you'. That mindset is incredibly toxic, Carol. Therapists and antidepressants exist for a reason, Carol. Not everyone can make themselves feel better by getting sloppy wine drunk on their dead husband's money every evening, Carol.
“Yeah, it was great. Thanks.”
“I knew you'd love it, so I brought you something else.” She scurried around in her comically oversized purse for a while before pulling out a small white tub. “It's that miracle balm I told you about, for the scar.” 
She noiselessly mouthed the word scar and covered the side of her mouth so Bucky couldn't see, like it was a dirty word, like she couldn't bear to think of the handsome man in the room knowing about such an ugly thing. 
“Oh right, thanks but I'm not really supposed to put anything on it while it's still healing. Could get infected.” 
“No honey, if you let that thing heal on its own you'll regret it, trust me.”
“Well, the doctor said-”
“Baby, look at me.” The legs became uncrossed as she leaned in. “I'm going to be honest now because I love you. Your body is a five out of ten, maybe a six if you did a cleanse.” 
“Right…”
“Now, with this hideous thing sitting on your stomach, you're down to a three. I don't want that for you, do you?”
You were speechless for a second. The words fuck off were just beginning to form in your mouth when she cut you off, turning her attention to the equally pissed looking Bucky.
“How about a man's perspective, hmm? You wouldn't want a partner with something so ghastly on them, would you?”
The calmness with which he answered her was pretty impressive.
“Well, to be honest, I couldn't give a fuck, cause I tend to rate personality higher. Like you, for example, are two out of ten but with a few lessons in grace and courtesy, I could see you moving up to a solid five.”
Your mouth fell open. The breath hitched in your lungs as your eyes flicked between the two of them, one looking outraged, the other looking very fucking pleased with himself. The silence was tense. 
After a few seconds she leapt up and stormed out of the room, her heels rapidly clicking against the floor while she screeched your father's name. 
Bucky just shrugged at you. “Guess her own medicine didn’t taste too sweet.”
“That was amazing.”
“I'm used to dealing with assholes like that,” he followed her lead, standing up and heading for the door, “but, unlucky for her, I'm in charge of who gets access to this room.”
“You can ban her?”
“If I think she's causing you harm I can do whatever I want.”
“You’re my new favourite person.”
“Can I get that in writing?”
He’d been gone for a while when some muffled shouting started downstairs. Too invested in the situation not to investigate, you decided to slide yourself off the couch and press your ear to the floor in an effort to make out the words. It didn’t work, obviously, and you soon realised there was no way in hell you’d be able to hoist yourself back up again. You just had to wait on the ground while your dignity slowly drained away piece by piece.
Bucky eventually returned, predictably freaking out when he spotted you.
“Shit, what happened? Did you fall?”
“No I kinda… slid.” He gave you a puzzled look while lifting you back onto the couch. “Sorry, I was trying to hear the argument. What happened?”
“She won't be bothering you again.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Can I keep you forever?” You rested your head against the couch cushions. “I’ll let you watch as much trash TV as you want.”
“Don't threaten me with a good time.”
---
A week passed and then another, and with each day you were achieving more and more. Bucky had you showering every day, eating three square meals and taking increasingly lengthy walks around the garden- when your painkillers were doing their job. He’d even spoken to your father about making sure everyone in the house waited for a response after knocking on your door. It sounded like an insignificant thing but you really valued every ounce of privacy you could get your hands on, and it did wonders for improving your mood. 
Another thing that was helping in that regard was spending most of your downtime just talking with him. On more than a few occasions you’d actually forgotten he was being paid to stick around, it felt more like you were hanging out with an old friend. 
Sometimes it felt like you were hanging out with more than a friend but, every time those feelings started to surface, you quickly pushed them back down into the dark depths in your mind. Acknowledging them would just set you up for inevitable disappointment. 
Today, you’d agreed to leave your father’s property for the first time since the incident. Bucky had offered to take you out for a coffee as a soft reintroduction back into the normal world. He drove you out in his ridiculously oversized SUV, passing plenty of perfectly good coffee shops so he could show you his favourite one. It didn’t look like anything special but you trusted him. 
He helped you to one of the outside tables, took your order and shuffled inside, giving you a wink over the top of his sunglasses. You rested your hands on the table and glanced around. The street was busy with people and cars and most of the other tables were full, it was midday so you figured most of them were working people taking their lunch breaks.
Then, just for a second, out of the corner of your eye you saw someone in the street stop. Looking over, you made brief eye contact with them before they checked their watch and continued walking. Why were they looking at you? Your eyes darted around the other faces passing by, your panic starting to rise when another of them looked your way. 
You grabbed onto the edge of the table, your palms prickling with sweat. The quickening pace of your heart made it harder and harder to pull breath into your lungs, all the muscles in your legs started to tense and your vision blurred at the edges. 
“You okay?”
Two takeout cups were hastily abandoned on the table in front of you and a soothing hand landed on your back, Bucky’s face trying to make its way into your line of sight.
“Mhmm.”
“I told you not to bullshit me. What happened?”
“Nothing, really. I just-” You pulled in a stuttering breath. “Need to adjust.”
“Pretty hard to do that when you’re mid panic attack, no? C’mere.”
He turned you round to face him and took you through some breathing exercises, helping you get back in control. The worst of the storm eventually passed but you were pretty shaken up, and he could tell.
“Maybe this was too soon.”
“No, this is good. It probably would’ve happened even if we'd waited longer. Better to get it out of the way.”
“And what if the coffee had taken another ten minutes? You would’a just passed out while I was waiting for fucking milk to foam.”
He seemed angry, but not at you. 
“It’s okay, Buck. Really. I could’ve been hit by a truck on the walk over from the car but wasn’t, so why worry about it.”
“Still, we should get you somewhere less crowded,” he took you by the hand, which was unusual, cause he usually just guided you with a flat palm on the back, “probably should’ve started with that.”
You headed back to the car, Bucky somehow juggling you along with two hot drinks, and drove a few miles out of the city. He said he knew of a short, flat hiking trail out in the woods that was only ever busy on weekends. It wasn’t exactly the reintroduction into society that the two of you had planned but, at the very least, it was a step above walks around the yard. 
He calmed down once you began walking, the jolly, laid back, Bucky that you were used to quickly resurfacing. It was a huge relief, him being on edge made you on edge and that wasn’t exactly the optimum mood for avoiding another panic attack. 
He kept a firm arm around you most of the way, anchoring you to him and protecting you against potential falls. You were pretty sure they were the only reasons.
“I must look fucking dreadful,” you chuckled, “if we bump into anyone they’ll probably think you just found me in the woods.”
“Shut up, you look great.”
“For a three-week-old corpse.”
“A corpse wouldn’t argue back so much.”
“I’m just keeping you on your toes.”
“Damn right you are.”
You smiled to yourself, hearing the warmth in his voice, and decided now was a good time to finally ask him a question you’d been thinking about for a while.
“So, you’ve really never had another client you’ve enjoyed talking to? Not even one?”
“Not that I can remember.” He shrugged slightly. “Why are you so surprised, anyway? We both know how many assholes there are out there.”
“True. I just think you’re easy to talk to, I guess. I’m surprised no-one else made the effort.”
“That’s sweet of you doll, but you should know that just letting me sit by you was completely new for me. I usually don’t even get a chair, never mind a conversation.”
“Brutal. I’m glad the shelter rehomed you with us.”
“Me too.” 
You laughed for a second before realising that all this talking had used up your pitiful lung capacity. You came to a stop, Bucky quickly moving to stand in front of you. 
“Something wrong?”
“No, I could just use a break.”
“Take as long as you need,” he placed his hands on your upper arms, “we can sit for a while if you want.”
“I’m good.”
Without thinking, you placed both hands on his chest to steady yourself, immediately realising that it was kind of a weird thing to do. Your eyes shot up to his but he was just smiling softly, seemingly unbothered. 
The two of you held that position for what felt like an age. 
Then, slowly, cautiously, his hands moved down to rest on your lower back, just above your hips. He stepped in closer and your hands tensed, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt. He lowered his head, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips met yours. You eagerly reciprocated, curling a hand around the back of his neck in a feeble attempt to keep him there as long as you could. It fell, however, when he abruptly pulled away, your arms going limp at your sides.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s okay, I-”
“It’s not. Jesus, I’m supposed to be looking after you.” He rubbed his eyes. “We should get back.”
“Can you just wait for a second? I’m not-”
“No.” He was stern, he’d never talked to you like that before. “We’re going back to the car, now.”
You were too shocked to argue. The walk back was tense and the drive home was the same, you looked over at him a few times but his stony expression encouraged you to keep quiet. You knew you hadn’t done anything wrong, and neither had he in your eyes, but you really had to keep reminding yourself of that. It felt like you’d committed a crime. 
Once home, you headed up to your room but he didn’t follow, which was unusual. When your father knocked on your door later and told you that Bucky had removed himself from duty, you weren’t surprised. He claimed that a big job had come up out of nowhere. 
He never even said goodbye.
---
You hadn’t so much as heard from Bucky since he left over a month ago. You’d maintained all his rituals and kept your healing process on track, adapting your daily walks so you could do them alone, sticking nearby walls and railings. It was a real struggle, emotionally and physically, but you were determined not to let him abandoning you knock you off course. You didn’t even let yourself cry when he left. You were just angry. 
So, naturally, when a chance for you to prove to yourself how far you’d progressed without him came around, you jumped at it. A friend of your father’s was throwing a birthday party for his daughter, you’d never been able to stand her but you hadn’t had a proper drink since the incident- and the booze there would be insanely expensive stuff. Plus, you’d been pining for any excuse to wear something other than pyjamas.
You strolled into the party, arm in arm with your father, and you felt good. You felt ready to be there. That was, until you saw who was working security detail. You barely recognised him in the full black bodyguard suit, you were so used to a t-shirt and jeans, but it was definitely him. Your evening was instantly ruined as you started mentally plotting the best way to avoid him.
You decided a good first step was to head straight to the bathroom to compose yourself, giving yourself the same pep talk in the mirror that you’d given the day after he left. You’d come too far to let him fuck up your first big outing. You dabbed the nervous sweat from your upper lip, adjusted your outfit and gave yourself a nod. You could do this. You just needed to stay away.
Wandering back into the party, you looked around for your father, the only person in the room you had any interest in talking to. You heard your name being called over the music and turned towards it. There he was, standing beside Bucky, beckoning you over. 
So your plan was fucked, then. 
Your stomach tightened. You grabbed a drink from a nearby table and moved over reluctantly.
“There you are. Listen, James was just telling me about the big job he was called to, it sounds incredibly interesting.”
“Oh, really?” 
You took a big gulp of champagne, wondering if Bucky’s fictitious story was as good as the real one he’d told you over breakfast that time. Or maybe that one was all made up, too. You glanced over and accidentally caught his eye for a second, but he quickly broke away and looked back at your father. 
“I probably shouldn’t go into any more detail.”
“Of course not, I wouldn't want you getting in trouble.” You involuntarily scoffed at your father’s words but managed to play it off as a cough. “It’s such a shame, though. You two seemed to really be getting on well together.” 
Your father looked back and forth between the two of you like he was watching a tennis match, unaware of how painfully awkward the lingering silence was. You finished off your champagne and grabbed a fresh glass from a passing waiter, looking around the room for any excuse to leave this conversation. Unfortunately, your father found one first. 
“Ah, there’s the birthday girl, I’d better go pass on some well wishes. I’ll leave you two to catch up.”
You cringed as he walked away. Quickly deciding that it was better to not even attempt conversation, you just silently nodded at Bucky and turned to leave. You didn’t get far, however, as he grabbed hold of your arm and stepped towards you. 
“Can we talk?”
You were incredibly shocked but tried to play it off. “I guess."
“In private?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you glared down at his hand, “but I would like it if you let go of my arm.”
“Sorry.” 
He released his grip and you took a small step away, putting a safe distance between your faces. You were still pissed off at him, that much was for sure, but you weren’t ready to trust yourself being in such close proximity to him again. Anything could happen. 
“I get why you’re pissed at me, I would be too. I just need to explain.”
“I know why you did what you did, Buck. You don’t need-”
“Please. Someone’s taking over my shift in ten minutes, will you meet me upstairs?”
“Upstairs? Like, past the rope with the big no guests allowed sign?”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to sneak past,” he smirked slightly, “I heard the security here sucks.”
He was right, too. You got up there with absolutely no trouble whatsoever. 
All of the doors off the hallway were closed apart from one, at the very end. You took a gamble and slowly approached, peeking your head round to see Bucky perched on the edge of a huge bed. He shot up when he spotted you in the doorway.
“Sorry, I know this is kinda weird, it's the only room that wasn’t locked or, y’know… occupied.”
“Lovely.”
He nodded and gave you a smile. “You look great. Amazing, actually. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” his smile melted you a little, “mostly thanks to you.” 
“Ah, you would’a been fine, I just annoyed you into being fine a bit sooner.”
You nervously rubbed the back of your head, in disbelief at how quickly he’d broken through your thick wall of resentment. You scrambled around trying to gather up some of the bricks and rebuild but being in the presence of that slick motherfucker was making it really difficult. 
You gathered your thoughts, took a breath and spoke. 
“Buck, like I said downstairs, you don’t need to explain. Obviously making out with your clients is a fireable offence, I get that, so you had to leave. Everyone makes mistakes.”
“You think I left ‘cause of that? You think some shitty job is more important to me than you?”
“I mean, yeah, kinda.”
“Jesus, I really am an asshole.” You gave him a confused frown as he reached out and took both of your hands in his. “Look, I couldn’t give a shit about this job, there’s bodyguarding positions everywhere and most of them don’t involve babysitting rich assholes. I left ‘cause I felt like I’d taken advantage of you. I couldn’t stand it.”
“Huh?”
“You were in a bad place. You were vulnerable and I was supposed to be looking after you, not- y’know...”
“Sucking face?”
He chuckled. “Yeah.”
“Right, but you do remember that I’m not a child, yeah? Just because I’m feeling shitty doesn’t mean I can’t make decisions for myself.”
“But it does mean your judgement is at least a little impaired.”
“Fine, whatever, but it isn’t anymore.” You squeezed his hands. “And I’m telling you now as a fully sane, rational adult that you didn’t do anything wrong. Alright?”
A relieved smile spread across his face. “Alright.”
“Good, cause I made a decision and I’m sticking to it.
“Might be a bad decision.”
“Sometimes bad decisions are more fun.”
“You can say that again.”
Your second kiss with Bucky was, somehow, even better. He was more sure of himself this time, less cautious, he moved in quicker. You did the same, wrapping both arms around his neck and letting him take some of your weight. You felt him smile against you as a hand dived into the back of your hair.
Now this was a kiss worth being fired for. 
He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “For the record, the first time wasn’t a mistake. It was a… happy accident.”
“Whatever you say,” you chuckled, “I’m just glad we bumped into each other again.”
“Oh, we didn’t. I took this job after checking the guestlist.”
“You sneaky fucker.”
“You know it.”
---
994 notes · View notes
fbfh · 10 months
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OOOOOF I am thinking about Bucky. I have been thinking SO much about Bucky. I'm thinking about Bucky returning from a mission late at night, slipping into your shared apartment unnoticed (old assassin habits die hard) and slipping into your bedroom. You're fast asleep, and look absolutely angelic. He can tell you finished your night routine a few hours ago, your skin is glossy and moisturized, and your hair is all set up how you like it. You're wearing a big Captain America shirt you got with him at the 4th of July celebration you went to last summer to make Steve laugh, and you’re hugging a pillow with one of his henleys pulled over it. A few of the stuffed animals he's gotten you are scattered around, and your cat sleeps soundly, curled up next to you as a calm show about wedding dress shopping plays on a low volume. You're a beacon of peace, able to throw him a rope to climb out of even the darkest places just by existing. He moves silently toward you, pulling you into his lap and holding you tight as you startle awake.
"Buck?" You ask, voice sleepy, teary eyed at getting to see him sooner than anticipated. He holds you against his chest, rocking you gently, cooing and shushing you. Comforting you comforts him, and your excitement and the feeling of being startled awake fall away as he holds you tight, rocking you soothingly. You start to feel all hazy and relaxed as you listen to his heartbeat, feeling the cool metal and low white noise hum of his left arm against your skin.
"It’s alright, doll. I'm right here."
263 notes · View notes
undercoverpena · 2 years
Text
wrong choice, right places (vii)
mob!bucky/bodyguard!bucky x fem!reader word count: 5k an: i can't believe we finally reached this part, where we come back to the present... thanks for your patience, i hope it's been worth it. gif not my own.
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[THEN]
You haven’t seen Bucky in almost a week. 
Half-expecting him to arrive around a corner, pulling you gently with him. 
It had crossed your mind he, too, had been warned. After the last conversation with Zemo, it shouldn’t—and wouldn’t—surprise you. Somehow wondering if he’s been pulled, given some low level job again. Keeping him away from you. Doing all Zemo can to flex the power slowly falling from his grasp. 
A part of you thinks it’s something more.
Something more dangerous, not able to convince yourself he hasn’t vanished. Been vanished. You’ve seen it happen. Rumlow vanished, even if he deserved it. In Zemo’s eyes, you’re sure Bucky deserves it too. 
Zemo’s behaviour does nothing to settle your concerns. He’s being kinder, more observant. His attempts to keep you close aren’t all terrible, inviting you to the opera, to see musicals—things you’d have loved to do, if not for the games, pain and betrayal he’d already inflicted. 
“Believe me. I want you to be happy, Liebling,” he’d said in bed, the thick cushion between the two of you, your teeth biting at the inside of your mouth.
Because you couldn’t be, not with him. He made you nervous, preferred you that way. Even if he was being kind now, you knew how cruel he could be. It didn’t matter that he was easy on the eye, was well-dressed, and held himself well. He murdered, he cheated and he lied, sometimes before breakfast. 
And, you were his prop. His answer, his key to the kingdom. His hand being placed on your hip said as much; he guides you around the city as if reminding everyone who you’re with. Reminding you who you’re stood beside. 
There hasn’t been Bucky. Not a sighting since before that dinner with Zemo.
He’s never close by. Never chosen to be the driver or the guard. 
And, you’re no idiot.  
You’re smart, cunning-family blood ran through your veins too. You know what your Uncle would do, what you would even do if someone forced your hand. Which is why your heart is in your throat. Why you try to listen more to the whispers from the other men. Watching how their eyes avoid you, noticing how they act as if they’ve been warned about looking, with more than just words. 
A statement. 
An act has been shown. 
The air is more tense because of it, things aren’t not sitting right. The house breathes differently, it trembles, as if the status quo is shifting, if there’s unease. 
But, it’s not until Sam is placed on you that the cards are shown. His eyes watching you, worry dancing in them even if he’s stoic. Even if he’s trying to keep a blank face. 
“Sam.”
“Ma’am?” 
You hate it. Hate that he calls you that too. Your tone ordering him once again to call you your name, something he doesn’t do. Not bending like Bucky. 
He’s close, but never too close. So no whispers getting back to the head of the table that another man has stepped out of line. It’s why he’s near the door, not further in your room. It’s why he stands keeps the curtains open, ensuring no one could mumble a thing. 
Forcing you to dress in the walk-in, rather than the open. Your eyes staring behind you into the mirror, seeing the last fading bruises from that night with Bucky, your dress remaining unfastened. 
Sliding your feet into your heels, you emerge, scanning the room for anything out of place. Any cameras, any devices. Not even trusting your own room to be free from his eyes. 
“How’s your family, Sam? Your friends?” 
Sam frowns, but it’s forced. Even you can tell that. 
Your heart thumping in your ears, breakfast almost threatening to appear as you try to calm your shaking hands, putting on an innocent smile. His expression doesn’t soften in the way it’s supposed to, how it would naturally. Each precise movement a performance for you, and for you alone. 
So, you add more. “The ones in this house… you have family here, don’t you?”
Sam stares. “They’re fine.” 
You smile, knowingly. Standing up, moving from the edge of the doorway as you turn your back to him. “Would you mind zipping me up? I can’t quite reach.” 
He looks reluctant, his eyes flicking from you to the floor before scratching his forehead, stepping close. You smile, innocently; straightening your spine, not flinching when his fingers move for the zip. 
Only when he’s close, so close that you can dip your head and just whisper, turning your head—just in case—as he pinches the fabric. 
“Has he hurt him?” 
“Don’t ask me things I can’t answer,” he replies in a hushed whisper, before zipping the dress before stepping back.  
Your stomach knots, a horrid thickness sitting in your chest as you turn to face him, eyes unable to stop themselves from widening. You’re sure if someone listened or felt your pulse, it would give it all away. But you don’t show it. Not below your eyes, trying to stifle the way your hands are shaking as you nod. 
“Thank you, Sam. Before we leave, I need to visit my fiancé. If we have the time?” 
His eyes flash, before nodding. 
A fear dancing in them before he gives one warning shake, a pleading one.  But you’re already moving, his hand opening the door. 
Your focus is on breathing, having one foot in front of the other. You try to think clinically, without emotion or purpose. Not thinking about all of the things you shouldn’t have ignored. Not the knot in your stomach you’ve been trying to push away. 
Your heels clack on the floor as Sam follows, closing doors you leave open. Dipping through rooms to get there quicker, causing him more aggravation than you mean to. But, he’ll stop you.
It’s their job.
All trained to keep you in line, to make sure you abide. 
And you can’t, not anymore. Breaking almost into a run, dashing down the staircase, the wood on your palm almost burning you grip the bannister so tightly as you descend. Fire and rage filling you, mixing with nerves and fear, all swirling inside of you, making your head weak as your legs hammer down the stairs. 
Whenever you head anywhere usually, the grandness of this place makes it always feel like it’s miles away. The exit, his office, the dining room. Today, things are moving towards you, adrenaline rushing through your blood. 
And then your hands are throwing open the door. You don’t think until your eyes land on the room; the one which you have lost Zemo to far too often. A room you used to resent, and now just hated. 
You don’t even cower as the many heads turn towards you and the dark eyes land on you. The dark brown pair, the ones you could have let watch you forever if he hadn’t been such a heartless bastard. 
Still, you don’t find the pair you need. The ones which’ll take the pressure of your heart, the weight from your shoulders. 
Not even when Sam arrives behind you. 
“Sorry, Boss. I tried to—“
“Helmut,” you interrupt.  
You never call him his name. 
Something he knows. 
The room watches you, waiting for one of you to make a move. It’s a dance, one you’re not sure he’ll follow, finding some sick, twisted satisfaction from seeing you coming undone. Because you can’t mask it, not even as you watch him stare, pleading with you to stay silent. 
Zemo is a great many things. Devious. Difficult. But if he truly wanted to punish Bucky, he’d already be dead, not on payroll. If he were dead, you’d know. He’d have made it a thing to tell you.
Likely keeping him on a piece of string, making him dance until you did what he needed you to do. But, you refused to be caged; refused to let him be either. 
“The room, gentlemen,” he says, standing taller, nodding with an apologetic expression, letting his eyes fleeting watch you. “I’ll be in touch.”
Their confused expressions do nothing, when usually you’d feel so much guilt. You don’t even move as they feed out, hearing Sam apologising, using the excuse of a family emergency. 
It almost makes you snigger.
Almost forcing you to crack open and laugh, the adrenaline unsure where to go. The room remaining only full of the people you know—the ones who are always around corners, or in cars. The ones who plan and kill; who are quick to pull out a gun or steer you out of trouble. 
“Liebling, what can I do for you?”
His voice alone uncaps the anger. 
“You can return what you took.”
His face doesn’t move, doesn’t shift. He doesn’t crack. Zemo only moves for his glass, his fingers wrapping around it, bringing the liquid to his tongue, a slight smirk ghosting over his lips before he downs the glass. 
“I’m afraid, I don’t know what you mean,” he lies.
And it’s a bold lie. 
One which spurns you. Forcing you to smile, coldly before you move more into the room, taking one purposeful step at a time before you’re stood at the side of his desk, in arms reach of him. 
“Zemo.”
“Schatz…” 
You glare, dropping your eyes as you sigh. Almost having been ready to bend if he hadn’t of lied, hadn’t tried to flex what he has over you. As you lift your eyes, your hand connects with his cheek.  
You’re sure the room even inhales, not just those left inside the four walls.
It takes a second, two in fact, before the sting meets your own palm. His eyes full of wild fire when they land back on you, brows furrowed as you step back. 
Not wanting him in reach. Not just afraid of what he’d do, but whether you’d do it again. Whether you’d keep hitting him, not stopping until you’re so drained the fight has left you. 
And, he just sighs. Not moving from behind his desk, looking at the men who have remained. “Clear the room.”
You stare, suddenly shaking. Suddenly feeling the power of the room. The things you hold so closely to you, all because of him—of the choices he’s made. You could walk away, you could. 
It’s only when the door shuts, does he move, stepping close as you jump back. Jaw gritted, eyes narrowed, the lump in your throat forming, knowing you’re a word away from signing your own death. “Is there no low you won’t go to, to hurt me?”  
His tongue slides into his cheek, stepping closer and you instinctively motion to hit him again. But he catches you. Pinching your wrist between his fingers and thumb as he tilts his head. You hate him, really hate him. It fills you, how much you despise him, attempting to wiggle your arm free, but he doesn’t let you go, holding tighter as you struggle. 
“Enough—“ 
“You’re a great many things. But I didn’t think you were jealous,” you spit coldly, lifting your chin, yanking one more time to find it free. “It’s not nice, is it? Knowing the mark on my neck isn’t made by you, the smile on my face wasn’t put there by you. That the ring on my finger or the fact it is known who I’m engaged to, does nothing. Means nothing. That there’s someone who can make me sing like a fucking opera singer.” 
You wiggle the ring from your finger as you slam it into his palm, wrenching your hand away from his fingers as his nostrils flared. Eyes murdering you where you stand, but you find no fear in your chest. 
“I said enough.”
The distinct sternness of it all, the sound of people stepping further away from the closed door, all likely listening, all likely waiting to see what happened between Mr Helmut Zemo and his wife to be. 
And you can feel it. Everything you’ve been ignoring begins to pepper your tongue. 
“I stood like an ornament. I pretended I didn’t know you were fucking any of them. Especially her. I pretended I didn’t know about the others. I didn’t cry when you kicked me out of our room. I didn’t blame you or demand you love me, or care for me.”
Your chest tightening, all of the deceit, anger and hate coming to the surface. All of the things you shoved down, rising, almost making you choke as he stares at you. Just stares. 
“And then, to make matters worse. I was almost kidnapped, a man you hired almost raped me, while you fucked one of those whores in the bed I fucking picked. You came to that hospital and pretended to give a shit, and as soon as we got home, you blamed me. As if I was at fault for following your orders. As if I was at fault for you not finishing in another woman, in my bed. You came to a safehouse, sitting there all worried, before keeping me a prisoner, trapping me out of fear, out of worry.” 
He doesn’t look angry, but he’s good at that. 
He’s good at masking. He’s done it for so long. But you can’t stop. It's all rolling out of you. The pain, the vengeance which he’s squashed. 
“I made peace with you not giving a shit, Zemo. You haven’t loved me, and I thought I was okay with it, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t have you give me someone who cares, and then when he does, you take him away from me too.”
You shake your head, rolling your lips as you smile. “I won’t allow you to blackmail me.” 
His glare is enough to tell you you’ve bothered him. You’re sure his fist clenches, the wooden armchair creaking under his hands. “Are you done?” 
Snorting, you want to say no. That you’d never be. But, you need Bucky back. Need him safe, at least. “Release him. Return him. Even to his place by your side.” 
Turning on your heel, you head to the door yanking it open, avoiding Steve’s worried eyes as you find Sam waiting, arms behind his back with a blank stare.
And then, Zemo’s voice booms. “Where are you going?” 
Looking over your shoulder, you stare at the man who promised you a world. Even said he’d get you the moon and the stars to go with it. Stood, holding the ring he’d chosen between his fingers, eyes practically putting holes in the dress on your skin.
You wondered if he’d ever needed to be jealous before now, the relationship with his wife so rock solid, you considered the fact it wasn’t necessary. Jealousy never suits many, but even less him. 
“To go attempt to climb a fence,” you say, rolling your eyes. “A dress fitting, if you remember. One you’re forcing me to attend, one you made sure I had, in fact. A promise that he wouldn’t be harmed. So, keep up your end of the bargain.” 
“Samuel,” Zemo says.  
You face forward, seeing Sam blocking the door. “You need to move, S—“
“Apparently, I need to be clearer with you about your position here,” Zemo continues, a cold tone, one which douses you in ice. 
Biting the inside of your mouth, you slowly turn back to face him. No one speaks, but you hear the room breathe in surprise. You hate it, how small the room seems now with less people and your anger gone. 
You tilt your head, just like your Uncle taught you too. “I think you forget yourself. Because I know, you’re not talking to me like I’m the paid fucking help, Zemo. I know you’re not talking to the possession you took during a territorial war, and I know you’re not talking to me like one of your whores.” 
Zemo’s jaw clenches before he lifts your ring. “You are forgetting something?” 
“You may have me shackled here, you may have taken everything from me, and I may be trapped under your thumb until my last breath, but I refuse to wear the leash while doing so.”
He rolls his jaw. “Put the ring on.”
“No.” 
“I’m not asking—“
“—I’m not putting—“
“—Stop being a child and put the damn—“
The two of you screaming, voices so raised there’s not a person who wouldn’t be able to hear. 
“—No—“
“—Fuck sake, what have I gotta do to get you—“
“Give him back,” you scream, hurrying forward, slamming your hand on the desk. “Give him back to me.” 
He goes silent, and you’re sure you can see the panic in his eyes, even for a second. 
“I let you have her, I turned my fucking head as you fucked her in our bed. I’ve been good to you. And you… I didn’t expect you to respect me, I never expected that. But I did think maybe, maybe one day you’ll see me as a fucking person. As someone who is struggling to breathe under all your fucking hate and distaste.” 
“I don’t hate—“
“You fucking hate me with all you have, Helmut” you scream, angry tears falling from your eyes. “Every day you hate me because I’m not her. I’m not the one you really want. I’m the thing you took, to prove you could; I’m the person you took, so no one would ever cross you. And, you hate me because I want to leave, and run and you won't let me because I’m related to a man who took the thing you loved.” 
He looks at you full of pity, like he isn’t sure what to do or say. As if you’ve broken him. 
“I never expected you to love me,” you whisper, the fight having left you. “But, I didn’t think you’d be cruel enough to take someone who could love me, away from me. Someone I’d marry you for, someone I’d stay loyal for. Just because… because I don’t want them to be harmed.
“And… if you hurt him, and this is my life. That every good that comes my way is taken from me, I beg you to just put a bullet in my head.” You pick up the revolver from his desk, his eyes widening as you place the end against your chin. “Give him back, or put me out of my goddamn misery, Helmut. Because living with you, alone, and empty, is already killing me. And I’d rather be with the dead. I’ll wear the ring, I’ll say those two words, but I refuse to do it if there’s no one here to love me.” 
Holding his stare for a second, you eventually crumble, handing him the gun. Wiping your forehead with the back of your hand before wiping your tears. 
“Reschedule the appointment,” you say, trying to not let your voice crack, “I don’t feel well enough to attend today.”
You hold his stare, just for a second, before turning on your heel. You continue even as he whispers your name, pushing open the door finding the two men on the outside. Neither one being the one you want. 
Feet sliding from your feels, barefeet carrying you through the house. Not up one floor to the room you sleep in with him, but the old one—the empty one you were once shoved into. 
Your back pressing against your old bedroom door, locking it. Even if this room is empty, even if all of your things are gone. It’s more comforting than the prison cell dressed in silk and crystals. 
Zemo could kick it down, shoot the lock, but he won’t. He’s a great many things, but some lines even he won’t cross. 
That’s all that comforts you as you pull at the neckline of your dress. The stitching rips as the tears fall, your feet do nothing to hold you up as your body crashes against the floorboards, half your skin exposed and the other covered by the dress. 
You sob until it doesn’t hurt. 
And then you sob some more, only pausing when you hear footsteps outside your door. Knowing they don’t belong to Bucky, or Sam, but someone you never thought would come. 
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[THEN]
It isn’t that you expect to see Bucky the next day, but you didn’t expect the flowers on your bedside table. The ones you know are from Zemo. 
He says nothing about your dress fitting, he just lies beside you, sliding the cushion you usually place between the two of you there. 
He doesn’t apologise. He says nothing. 
You’re not even sure if he sleeps, you only getting a few hours yourself. 
When one of the maids comes by to fetch you for breakfast, you ask them if they can dispose of the lilies, quietly. They look torn, but they do so, and you half wonder if he’s giving into you. Like he did the night before, when you stumbled back to the room you share, a bottle of wine in your hand, make-up ran down your cheeks. 
He doesn’t force you to bathe, instead handing you a wet cloth. His eyes softening as he stares at the brokenmess he’ll marry for power. 
Now, you dress slowly, pulling on a jumper and comfortable pants, choosing flats for the first time since being moved into this house. Not caring anymore, so worn down, you’re sure you’d even say ‘I do’ if you were marched to the church. 
Pulling open the door, you half-expect to see Zemo arriving to force you for breakfast. After all his attempts to get a maid to retrieve you, but instead you find a sight you don’t expect.
One bruised, bloodied Bucky. 
You almost crumble, almost fall into him; your hand wanting to cup his cheek, to heal him. Instead, for the sake of the eyes—and the gossip—you move out of the way letting him in. 
Your fingers rush to lock the door, feet darting around the room, grabbing sheets to cover any objects, not caring if anyone hears, but as long as they don’t see. Desperate to not let the world outside of it seep in before you look at him. 
And when you do, you’re not sure you can ever stop looking at him. 
“I’m… I’m okay.”
Your eyes are wide, as he comes closer. A stumble to his step, his formerly white shirt covered in dried blood. 
It’s his metal hand which finds your waist first, thumb circling your jumper covered hip as he looks at you before attempting to smile. His other hand coming to cup your cheek, fingers brush your skin, and you study the bruise over his eye as he looks you over. 
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he wheezes, and you let a tear fall. “You shouldn’t have spoken to him like that.”
“Sam?”
He smiles, lip busted, blood dried. “Sam.”
You cup his cheek, “I had too,” you whisper. “He… he said he’d keep you alive if I…”  
And he nods, as if he understands before kissing you. Softly. 
So soft, you wonder if it’s because of pain. All delicate, but purposeful. Less fuelled by lust or quickness. It’s everything it always is under the surface, but neither of you have ever letting yourselves have. 
Because then, it would be harder, more difficult to stay apart. 
“Did he…“
Bucky wipes your skin with his thumb, trying to smile softly, you hating hating how he’s trying to find a lie. “I’m alright.” 
“I told you. I told you I’d get you—“
“I’m alright,” he says more forcefully, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Plus, I’d rather it be me than you.” 
“He wouldn’t—“
“Words hurt as much as a fist,” Bucky interrupts, nodding knowingly. “I told you, you deserve more than him.”
“You did. I just didn’t imagine you’d mean you.” 
He snorts, sighing. “Me either.” 
“You know, right?” you say, “You know I don’t really hate you.”
Smirking, he nods. “I think even he knows you don’t hate me.”
“I’ll marry him, Bucky… I’ll marry him if it means I can keep you safe,” you say, tears falling heavy down your cheeks. “I know it’s not freedom, but would we ever be.” 
“You’re not marrying him.”
You look at him, tilting your head, wanting to convey that you have to. You know you have to. The state of him alone forcing your hand, never mind everything else. 
“We’ll find another way,” he says, stroking your cheek. Pulling you close, pressing his forehead against yours, eyes burning into yours. “You’re not… I won’t let you.” 
You let out a low laugh, shaking your head as he tries to keep your eyes on him. “What we going to do then, kill him? Because I promise you, that’s what it’ll take to escape him. He’ll never stop. Never.”
“You don’t—” 
“He needs me otherwise the city can be taken,” you snap, Bucky’s eyes reeling, blinking as you nod. “I’ve seen it. The terms. He marries me, he has it all. If I die, he loses it all. So… he won’t stop. He can’t. He’s lost too much. If I leave, he’ll hunt me… hunt us. He’ll hurt you, over and over until I comply.”
“You’re…”
“The city is mine, Bucky. It has been the entire time. In writing, black and white,” you say, your voice acknowledging it for the first time out loud. “It was signed to me the night before my Uncle was killed. He knew. He knew it all. Zemo didn’t keep me alive out of choice, but out of necessity.” 
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[NOW]
He wasn’t supposed to fall for you, and you weren’t meant to fall for him. 
Bucky’s job had been simple, but you weren’t a simple person. 
You couldn’t have stopped yourself from loving James Bucky Barnes if your life depended on it, not when you learnt he was kind, was loving, and so much more than a metal arm and a great kill-sheet. 
The two of you fit together like the two of you were meant to be. Likely always destined for a better life, and yet somehow both found yourself in a world of guns, violence and territory. He was the key to unlocking your freedom, a person you could trust, a person, a lifeboat in a storm. 
Bucky had said Zemo didn’t deserve you. He’d punctuated it between kisses. 
Before him, you’d never have believed him. 
It’s why you fought against Steve’s hold; Steve whispering to stop, as if it wasn’t killing him, if he wasn’t worried himself. 
The rest of the room staring at Zemo, who stares at Bucky. 
“Did you really think you’d get away with it, James?”
Because even if you hadn’t expected it to be today, you knew this moment would come as soon as you told him the truth. As soon as you informed him of the paperwork, of the reason you’re breathing. 
Bucky glances at you, flexing his fingers over the handle of his gun. You watch Bucky swallow, not needing to be close to hear his heart thumping. He lifts the gun, staring down Zemo, who is pointing one at him all the same. 
“I can’t allow people to touch my things, James. Even when they’re things I’m not as precious about, and by those as talented as you,” Zemo says, straightening his spine. “It sets a precedent, causes turmoil amongst the others. And I cannot allow you to leave the city with her. Not when she’s mine.”
You freeze, suddenly finding the arms around you letting you go, as if Steve knows there’s only one other thing to do. Otherwise, he’s about to watch his friend be executed, for something he’s paid the price for once before, and this time won’t be allowed to repeat again.
Sam nods, distinctly, not for your eyes but you see it all the same. Just as Bucky casts his eyes back to you, them screaming that he loves you without so much as opening his mouth. 
And then you feel it, cold, hard metal in the hand behind your back. The ones you’ve not moved even when Steve let you go. You know what it is, you’ve grown up knowing what it is. A horrid thing which has done so much harm in your life, so much heavier than you can ever remember. 
So you nod, a reassuring nod. 
Because you’re your Uncle’s niece. You know how these things go. Even if you wanted to turn your back to it all, even if you tried to have no part in the entire thing. It was your destiny. It was written in black and white; written in crimson on silk napkins and dinner cloths. 
“You will be missed, James,” Zemo says, cocking his gun, ready to fire. “But, I can’t allow you to breathe air, when you’re filling her head with delusions that she has power. I’m sorry.”
Bucky’s face pales. 
And, a bullet leaves the chamber.
A bullet, from a gun.
One in your hand.  It moving through the air, landing straight in the side of his temple—making Zemo gasp, making him fall. 
It’s all in slow motion.
Your stomach knotting, knowing what it means, what it all will mean.
You don’t blink, not even when Zemo’s body lands with a thump. Not even as Bucky’s hand cups your cheek, pulling your eyes to him.
“What have you done?” he asks, pulling you to stare at him. 
Not able to do so until white fills Zemo’s eyes, not until it washes over you that he’s gone. Because then it’s real. The sounds from the room begin to come back to you, all fuzzy except Bucky, the sound of the bullet leaving the chamber making yours ring. 
“We’re free…” you whisper. 
But he doesn’t believe it. He can’t do.
Because he looks paler than he did when he had a gun pointed at him.
"We're free... aren't we?" you ask.
And he just pulls you toward him, only then realising that you're shaking. As is he. Not sure how to explain what it is, the two of you now are—but it isn’t free.
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t a g l i s t :
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buckyalpine · 9 months
Text
Bodyguard!Bucky x drunk reader
This little drabble is for an idea from one of my favorite angel babies, its SO CUTE. Might make a longer version of this at some point but for now: 
“Buckyyyy” You clung onto him like a koala, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the heady scent of his cologne. After a drink too many, you were happy to crawl into his lap, tipsy enough to happily wrap yourself around him, though still mostly aware of your surroundings. He remained silent, a classic grumpy scowl on his lips, keeping his eyes straight to the SUV. 
He wrapped his strong arms around you, carrying you and walking to the car, his broad frame keeping you snug against his chest while moving through the crowd with ease. No one stood in his way, immediately moving aside from his facial expression alone. Piercing blue eyes and a clenched jaw daring anyone to make the mistake of coming near you. 
“M’so sleepy” You whined against his neck, letting your hangs cling around his neck, squeezing your legs tighter around his tapered waist. 
“It’s okay pretty girl, I’m taking you home” He murmured, not wasting a second getting you outside and into the all black SUV that was parked at the club entrance. He swallowing thickly when he felt your soft lips press gentle kisses along his neck, the warmth of your breath tickling his skin as he slid into the back seat, nodding to the driver to get going. 
“So handsome” Your nose nudged into his shoulder, burying yourself into him as much as you could, refusing to let him move you from his lap. He spent the entire ride letting you cuddle into him while he held you securely, carefully holding you as he stepped out once you’d reached home. He carried you right to your bedroom, setting you down on your bed. You whined when he tried to pull away, pulling him back, giving him your sweetest pout, glassy and wide. 
“Please don’ go” You mumbled, tucking yourself into him, “Stay? Please?”
How was he supposed to leave you when you were so sweet and cuddly and so utterly adorably drunk. 
“Alright babygirl” He whispered, kissing your forehead, “I gotta get you clean up first through, okay?” He went to you bathroom, well versed in what your night time routine was, making note of the smallest details in everything you did in a day. He found some wipes, and your lotions, bringing them over and gently rubbing the makeup off your face while your mind was still stuck on the name he called you. 
“M’your babygirl?” You asked hopefully, noting the way his cheeks blushed, trying to ignore the way his heart fluttered but it was impossible around you. 
“Always, you’re always my babygirl” He smoothed the cool lotion onto your skin before helping you out of your heels. He convinced you to get changed out of your dress, staying stationed outside of the closet in case you fell over but you were changed seconds later. You came out in an oversized tshirt- his oversized tshirt to be exact, that you’d stolen unbeknownst to him. 
So that’s where it went he shook his head to himself, biting back a smile while you flopped back onto bed, stretching on the covers like a kitten before giving him grabby hands. 
“What is it princess” He knew what you wanted but it went against what he was there for. He had to protect you and to do that he couldn’t ever let his guard down. Not one moment of vulnerability, not when he had to protect you. 
But fuck, you were so utterly irresistible and he’d be lying to himself if he thought there was nothing he felt for you. He came down to tuck you in, hoping the warmth of the blankets would help you sleep but you tugged him into bed instead, wrapping your entire body around him. 
“You’re blushing” you giggled, cupping his scruffy cheek, letting your thumb trace his pink lips. He could help but chuckle, hoping you’d forget all this by morning, letting his fingers trace over your delicate features. 
“You act all grumpy but you’re actually a teddy bear”
He cocked an eyebrow while you tried to copy him, scrunching you brows together instead making him grin. He smoothed the line that formed between your brows, loving the way you continued to contort your face trying to match his grumpy face. 
“A teddy bear, huh?”
“My teddy bear” You sighed contently, snuggling into him, a yawn slipping past your lips. You let the warmth of his arms drift you off to sleep, still smiling as you snored softly. 
“My babygirl” He held you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, allowing himself to fall asleep with you; after all you’d always be safest in his arms. 
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urdepressedslut · 9 months
Text
You’re Mine, Sunshine
♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader
♡ Summary: Bucky gets picked by a very rich and respected man to be his daughter’s personal bodyguard. The Father warns him that it won’t be an easy job, that she is a brat and difficult to deal with. But what happens when Bucky meets you and you’re the complete opposite?
♡ Warnings: mentions of amputation, light angst, hints to violence, mentions of death, bucky being a grumpy man
Part 2
Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!AU Bodyguard!AU
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“Mr. Barnes, your résumé so far is quite impressive.” Pierce acknowledged with a slow nod.
Bucky of course had a trained eye, but the glares that were not so subtly sent his way by the big boss— were intimidating. He wasn’t scared, no. He simply respected this man’s power. Bucky knew better than to get on the bad side of someone like Pierce.
“Says here you’re an amputee?” Pierce asked so bluntly, and he noticed Bucky’s eyes squint slightly. “Sorry, if I’m overstepping but nothing will be overlooked.”
“It’s not a problem, sir.” Bucky assured him. “Yes, I lost my left arm during a mission way back.”
Pierce furrowed his brows.
“Mission? I take it you used to be an agent of some sort.” He assumed.
Bucky nodded.
“Hm, very good. Continue.” He waved him on.
“I had some surgical procedures— and now I have a prosthetic.”
Bucky lifted his left arm, rolling his sleeve slightly up to expose the metal to the boss. Pierce hummed impressively, taking in the intricate designs on the metal.
“I can assure you that me having a prosthetic will not be an issue— my arm is made out of only the strongest metal. Bullet proof, in fact.” He added, hoping it would further impress the boss, proving just how perfect for the job he was.
It wasn’t his dream to be a bodyguard, actually it was quite a low in his career— if you asked him. He had fallen out of his previous steady job, due to some complications. He had the experience of being a bodyguard— just not for only one person. It would be a weird change for him, but he was willing to take on the challenge. Also, the pay was nice.
Pierce hummed again, the information that his prosthetic arm was bullet proof— only satisfying him more.
“Like I said, impressive Mr. Barnes. But this is an extremely important task. My only daughter, who must be protected at all costs.” Pierce trailed off, expression growing serious. “It’s been a hard adjustment since the passing of my wife, my daughter is all I have left.”
Bucky nodded in understanding, knowing what it was like to lose loved ones. In fact, that wound was still fresh on him.
“If I allow you to take on this role, you are to swear to yourself that you will do whatever it takes to keep her alive— no matter what.” Pierce spoke loudly, his voice orotund.
Bucky in the back of his mind thought about his choice of words. ‘If I allow you.’ Bucky respected this man, but he had to hold back the scoff that threatened to escape his lips at his statement.
“Do you think you’re ready for that?” Pierce challenged, and suddenly it wasn’t about his daughter at all. It was a man challenging another man, a task that he deemed impossible.
His metal hand behind his back whirred in annoyance. After all that fluffing his head up, complimenting his training. It was clear Pierce thought so little of him, and at that— it made Bucky wanna take the job even more. Just to prove him wrong.
“Yes sir.” Bucky promised, shaking Pierces hand in a firm— slightly aggressive shake.
Pierce smiled, dropping Bucky’s résumé on his desk. Getting himself comfortable, he sat on the edge of the front of the desk, crossing his arms.
“Now, let’s go through what is to be expected.” He started, Bucky nodded for him to continue. “You are to be with her at all times, except for when you sleep. You do sleep right?”
Bucky let the scoff escape this time, but it wasn’t as aggressive as he wanted it to be.
“I’ve got a metal arm, but I’m still human sir.”
Pierce chuckled to himself, and Bucky wanted to roll his eyes. This man thinks he’s so funny.
“Right. You must never let her leave your sight, if she wants to see her friends— you’ll be seeing them with her. Not that it’s going to be an issue, I don’t think she has many friends… or any.” The boss shrugged, seemingly unconcerned about his daughter.
Bucky nodded, taking everything in.
“You are going to be staying with her in the safe house… well— she thinks it’s just a house but the area is guarded with my men.” He shrugged again. “I’m a successful man and with that comes enemies, people who look for my weaknesses. You know that.”
Bucky gave a tight lipped smile, Pierce so far sounding like a father of the year.
“Now, about my daughter. Her name is (Y/n) (Y/L/n), and she is a handful.” Pierce stated frustratedly. “She’s rude, ungrateful, nasty— and just overall extremely difficult.”
Bucky furrowed his brows, rethinking his decision to be a bodyguard for this girl. Fucking lovely.
“You can now understand why I’m paying you the offered amount. It’s only fair to you, Mr. Barnes. Truthfully, I can’t deal with her anymore. I love her, and she’s my daughter but… It just doesn’t work out with me. I’m a busy man— I don’t have time for brats.” Pierce spat, straightening up and heading back around his desk.
Bucky had already been creating this mental image of you, so far you sounded like a witch. He was not at all ready to be dealing with you 24/7.
“Doesn’t sound like a problem boss, I’m happy to be protecting your daughter. Nobody will lay a hair on her head, I swear on my life.” Bucky promised again, bowing his head slightly.
“Oh I know. If anything happens to her and I find out you were slacking even by an inch… well you’re a smart man, I’m sure you can figure it out.” Pierce warned, and Bucky swallowed at the mere intimidation that laced his voice.
But he would not back down to this challenge, which is how he saw this— not a job.
“That will be all Mr. Barnes, (Y/n) is around here somewhere. Find her and take her home.” He told Bucky, putting on his glasses— focusing on his paperwork.
“Yes sir.”
Bucky nodded and turned to exit the room. He was so confused with the interaction. You’d think someone who hires a bodyguard for their daughter would know where their daughter is. The way he spoke about you was off putting. Bucky didn’t even know you, but it felt wrong to hear someone talk so little about you. What did he know anyway— apparently you were a monster.
He made his way through the building with a swift walk, needing to fulfill his duties and find you quickly. He was on the third floor, about to hit the button to the elevator when he saw a young lady. Despite him wanting to find you all on his own, he got her attention.
“Excuse me,” He waved to her with a fake smile, “Do you know where I can find (Y/n) (Y/L/n)?”
The lady smiled and took Bucky by surprise by laughing. His fake smile vanished immediately, his eyes squinting in a annoyed expression.
“That would be me!” You exclaimed with a warm smile.
Bucky’s eyes widened and he thought for a second he was being fucked with, but after you stayed smiling at him, being as patient as ever— he knew you weren’t joking.
“Uh right… Your dad is Pierce?” He asked hesitantly, keeping his guard up. Still thinking someone was messing with him— testing him.
You nodded slowly, giving him a curious expression. Your smile never wavering.
“Yes, and you are?” You asked so politely.
Bucky shouldn’t of been as shocked as he was but truthfully, he was expecting a demon spawn of a person. Red eyes, withered flowers left in your path, a literal storm cloud floating over you— but you looked so normal. So sweet and pretty. Your hair smelled so strongly of strawberry shampoo, he could catch the scent from his spot. Your voice was like honey, the sound soothing.
He was confused as to why your father thought so wrongly of you. He had too many questions.
He cleared his throat, straightening himself now that he believed you were who he was looking for.
“(Y/n), my name is Mr. Barnes— I’ve been hired as your personal bodyguard.” He informed you, watching the corners of your mouth falter slightly.
“Oh, did my Father hire you?” You asked politely.
“Yes ma’am.”
You nodded your head, attempting to keep a smile on your face. But you couldn’t help the distaste for being given a bodyguard. You knew it was only for the sole purpose, that your Father didn’t want to care for you anymore. He wanted nothing to do with you. That fact was enough to make your nose start to burn, but you held yourself together— not wanting to break down in front of this new guy.
Bucky watched you take in the information, the way you took a deep breath, almost controlling yourself before you spoke again.
“Nice to meet you Mr. Barnes. I’m sure we’re going to be great friends.” You told him.
Bucky shook his head, an annoyed expression etching his face.
“Ma’am, I think we should keep things professional. I have been hired as your bodyguard. Let me do my job, and you can continue with your day as usual. You won’t even know I’m here half the time.” He explained rather harshly.
You seemed taken aback, his words hurting you more than they should’ve. You were lonely, and you thought you’d be able to get a friend out of this situation. Even if he was being hired to hang around you. Luck didn’t seem to be on your side as he told you off. The burning felt stronger in your nose, and you took another deep breath.
Bucky only felt bad for a second, but he was quickly snapping back to reality. It was his life on the line to protect you, and if Bucky was anything— it was that he was good at doing his job. This was business, not playtime.
“I’m here to take you home. Are you ready?” He asked you.
You relaxed your quick beating heart, not even having time to speak with your Father. Not that he’d want to anyway. So much had changed since your Mother passed, you had yet to heal those wounds.
You nodded with a weaker smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. If Bucky had noticed your sudden mood change, he didn’t mention it— instead guiding you outside.
He opened the door to the car that was waiting outside for you, climbing in himself after you were settled.
He started driving to your place, with the help of the car telling him directions.
Meanwhile you gazed out the window, watching the buildings pass by. You forced yourself to keep a small smile on your face, hoping you’d convince yourself that the gesture was genuine if you did it long enough.
Bucky glanced back at you through the rear view mirror from time to time, watching you look out the window. He was still trying to come to terms with how polite you were, how completely opposite you were to your Fathers description.
On one hand it was a relief that he didn’t have to deal with the devil. On the other hand… he was anxious to see where this job would lead him.
A/N: I don’t know what is wrong with me, but suddenly I had this urge to write a bodyguard!bucky fic. let’s be honest, we are all slut’s for bodyguard!bucky 😭 I’m also a whore for the trope grumpy x sunshine 🥰🥴 let me know what you think— this is all word vomit.
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