You and Bucky have known eachoter other since forever. He is your best friend, so why do he feels like this?
Warnings: fluff, sad Bucky, mentions of hospitals.
A/N: I have been busy for a lot, but I got some time so here is a cute High School AU with a soft Bucky, cause everyone needs him.
(Gif not mine)
"You should leave that idiot." Natasha told her, huffing as she watched her best friend's current boyfriend laugh with her friends as she pointed to the usual snobbish group of girls. "I know." Natasha greeted her and walked over to her locker. Y/N felt two hands on her shoulders and smiled. "Hey Buck." Bucky was her best friend since second grade, when she had "heroically saved" her, as James always said, from the kid in the class next to her pulling her hair. "Goodmorning beautiful." She smiled and rolled her eyes looking at her boyfriend. "Can I go punch him?" Bucky whispered in her ear. "No Jamie." "Mh... Stop calling me that." "Why Jamie? I like it so much." He smiled at her and then her boyfriend walked over to them. "Look Barnes, I've told you so many times she's my girlfriend, why don't you go away?" "Is she your girlfriend even while you look at the other's asses?" "How dare you..." Her best friend approached her boyfriend in a threatening way. "Buck, that's enough." She put her hand on his chest. "Look, see you later, okay?" She smiled at him bitterly and then looked at her boyfriend. "How many times have I told you to stop being with him?!" She huffed. "He is my best friend." "I'm your boyfriend!" "He and I have known each other since second grade." "You have to stop always making excuses! Either him or me." "But stop it, you idiot." "You are a whore."
Bucky was home alone: his parents had gone out to dinner when he heard the doorbell ring. "Can I?" He whispered her best friend, with tears in her eyes. "God darling, sure." She lunged at Bucky, hugging him. James took her hand and sat down on the sofa. "Do you want to tell me what's going on?" "She left me and called me a whore." "Okay, okay. Where is it?" "No, don't worry." "But..." "No, I just want you to stay with me. Okay?" "Okay. How I met your mother, popcorn and cuddles?" "Bucky, I love you." "Yes, I love myself too." "Stop that." With her tear streaked cheeks she pushed him playfully and smiled at him. After James finished making the popcorn, they started watching a few episodes of both of their favorite TV series. "Bucky." Y/N whispered as she snuggled into her chest, him stroking her hair. "Yeah?" She raised her head a little and kissed his cheek. "Thank you." "Whenever you want, little one."
One week later
"We are two weeks away from the most important dance of our life and I don't have a date." She burtled out, while they were watching the TV. "Come with me." Bucky whispered as he read some chemistry for the upcoming exam. "What?" "Yeah, well, I don't have anyone to go with either." "Are you telling me that James Buchanan Barnes has no girlfriend to go to prom with? Seriously?!" "Are you coming with me or not?" "Mh I don't know, what do I get from it?" "Going to the prom with James Buchanan Barnes." "Mh, tempting proposal..." He laughed and pretended to think about it. "Okay Barnes, since you look so desperate." Bucky cheered. She bursted out laughing and kissed his cheek. "You will only get to cheer after you survive the shopping for my dress, honey." "No. No. No. No. No. No. No." "You said no seven times, they seemed too few to me, you know?" "No. No. No. No. No. No." "Plus five. Good, 12 seems enough to me." Y/N sat down next to James when he groaned. "What's up?" "I do not understand anything." "Okay, well... See this? It always has to be multiplied by the constant, whatever it is. So dividing that number by the constant you get..." Bucky finished the sentence by pointing to the right number on the book. "See? It's not difficult." Bucky smiled at her. "What would I do without you?" "You would have been repeating classes so many times." They both bursted out laughing, not knowing that the girl's mother and father were watching them from the door smiling, wanting to warn them that Bucky's parents had arrived.
Y/N ran to the bus stop with her heart pounding, got on the bus with inhuman speed and ran again only as soon as she got off in front of the hospital. "Hi... I'm looking... I'm looking for James Barnes." The woman at the desk looked at the paper and nodded. "Are you an emergency number of him?" "Yes, my name is Y/N L/N." "Third floor, room 312." "Thank you." She went to the elevator and on reaching room number 312 she knocked. "Come in, dear." James's mother told her. "Buck..." She walked over to him and looked into her eyes. "Hey." He whispered, trying to smile. "What happened?" "That asshole of your ex... He told me it was all my fault, I punched him and... He pushed me into the street." "Jamie..." A tear ran down her cheek, making Bucky worry. "I'm fine, don't worry. Maybe I won't be able to come to the prom... I'm really sorry." "I won't go either, for that matter." James looked at her confused. "What?" "Mu best friend is lying on a bed in a hospital after he was hit and I'm supposed to go to a stupid dance?" She asked him, raising her eyebrows. "Yeah, you should." "Forget it." She stroked his cheek. "But..." "No buts James. I'm not going anywhere to have fun while you're here. Are we clear?" "As water."
"I'm warning the others, who do you want me to call?" "Steve, Nat and Sam." "Okay." She pressed her lips to his forehead, unaware that Bucky had turned so red he was the envy of a tomato, and walked out.
The three boys arrived quickly, asked about the room and entered. "Hey Buck." Steve, his best friend, greeted him. "Dude, are you really that idiot?" He asked Sam with an amused smile, folding his arms. Nat instead just asked him if she was okay. "Hi Steve, yes I'm fine Nat. Thanks Sam, I love you too." The five laughed, while Erika made room for the others to hug him as well. She felt Bucky's hand grab hers, so she wouldn't get too far away, and she smiled, staying where she was. "I guess she has already explained to you what happened." She whispered referring to Erika. "Already." "Nat, will you take her to the prom please?" Bucky asked as Erika loosened her hand from hers. "I said I'm not going anywhere!" "It's our senior year Erika." "Yeah and you're in a hospital!" "But I might be able to get out before the prom." "One week left ..." "Come on Erika, you can't leave me alone with these two idiots." "Steve, aren't you with Peggy?" Steve nodded awkwardly, while Sam pointed a finger at him. "Ah! Traitor!"
It was prom day, Y/N was getting ready, when she heard her mother scream "Honey, someone is coming up!" She went to open the door and saw, in front of her, James smiling at her. "Bucky?" "Hi..." "Oh my God Buck!" She hugged him. "See? I managed to get here in time." "Yes, but you don't have a suit and..." "I have everything here, can I use the bathroom?" "Yes, yes. I just need to finish my hair, okay?" "Sure." Y/N turned and walked to the bathroom, while Bucky whispered something she didn't understand. "Damn."
"Did you say something Jamie?" "No nothing, go ahead!" When Y/N came out of the bathroom she smiled at Bucky, who had taken advantage of it and changed into her room. "You're... Wow, I've never seen you this elegant." She said, giggling when she saw him grappling with the bow tie. "Come on, I'll do it." She whispered as she took the two laces from him and adjusted them. "Here." "Thanks, little one." They smiled at each other. "You're welcome." Y/N started to leave when Bucky blocked her. "Wait I have... One thing." He pulled one of those wrist bouquets Y/N had been talking about for a year and held out his hand. "Can I?" He joked. "Of course, sir." They both laughed as Bucky put the flowers on her wrist. "Shall we?" "Yes, we shall." They got out and, after their mother's compliments on the girl's dress and their father's recommendations to Bucky, they managed to get out. "Sometimes I forget you have a driver's license." Y/N said smiling as she sat in the passenger seat. "I know." "When did you get out?" "Yesterday, but I wanted to surprise you." "Idiot." James looked at her with big eyes. "What? Didn't you like it?" "Oh no, I loved it. But you're still an idiot."
"Buck, I'm going to say hello to Natasha, I'll be right back." "Hey buddy." Steve greeted him and walked over to him. "Hey." "Why don't you tell her? Next year we will all take different paths, you and her especially: you will be in two completely different colleges, with practically all of America in the way." "Exactly." "Buck, I get it, you don't want a long distance relationship. But hear me out, Katherine, third year. You were so smitten with her that even when you found out she was cheating on you you said you didn't blame her because you thought it was because she missed you. Y/N would never cheat on you, so even if you were in a relationship, far away from eachoter, you'd be sure that that thing is serious." James smiled, watching Y/N laugh with Wanda, Pepper, Shuri and Natasha, then took a sip of champagne. "Maybe you're right." "I know I'm right Buck."
"It was great." "It was." "I didn't know you could slow dance, Barnes." "I have many secrets." "But I'm your best friend, I should know them." "About that..." Erika suddenly turned to him, worried. "Can we go to my place? There is still an hour before the curfew your father has set for me." "S-sure... Sure." She smiled trying to hide her anxiety and got into the car.
"Where are your parents?" "At some kind of work dinner, I thank whoever decided to do the dance today. I couldn't stand my father's colleague's daughter." "Uuh, does anyone have a crush?" "She's annoying and has an unbearable voice. He just thinks I like him because she's got a quarter-or-over bra." "James, I didn't think you were so perverted as to realize how much he wears a bra girl." "It's easy to understand. Third." He said pointing at her. Automatically she covered herself and blushed. "Oh come on, how many times have I seen you in a bikini?" "I hate you." She mumbled as she sat down on the black leather sofa. "Do you know what I've always loved about you and your parents?" She asked looking around. "Despite your wealth you do not flaunt it in front of any person you meet and you do not despise those who are not rich like you." "My mother always hated my grandfather for that reason, that's why she always tries to do the opposite of what he did." He sat down next to her. "I didn't tell you today but... Today you are less scruffy than usual." Bucky said laughing, pretending to be superior. "Is that a horrible way of telling me I'm pretty?" Bucky smiled softly at her. "You are beautiful." Y/N blushed violently, then hiding her face in her hands. Bucky moved them and made him look at her. "They say that when you are about to die, everything beautiful you have been through in your life passes in front of you." James whispered looking at her. "What did you see?" She asked in the same tone of voice, for fear of spoiling the atmosphere. "My parents, Steve, Nat, Sam ... A little girl laughing because someone had saved her from a little boy pulling her hair, a twelve year old girl crying because her first boyfriend left her, a girl, sixteen year old, who laughs at every joke of her best friend even though they are stupid because she doesn't want him to feel bad... A girl who cries because a jerk left her and then laughs at some stupid theory of a type of a series TV... " "Buck ..." "I have relived so many moments spent with you in that space of time that I realized something... " He told her as he approached her. "You are the most important person in my life." "Jamie..." "And, although I hate that nickname, I love it when you say it. I love how you make me love everything, whether you say or do it. I love the smile that comes up every time the science teacher talk. I love the fact that you care more about others than about what you really want. I love everything about you, little one. I love you. And I know we're going to have to split up for college now but I wanted to tell you." "James." "And I also know that you'll probably see me as the loser best friend who falls in love with his best friend..." "James!" She told him in a louder voice, smiling. "I love you too, from junior high." "Really?" Bucky asked with a sweet, hopeful look. "Really." "Can I?" He whispered looking at the girl's lips. "You sure can, idiot." He kissed her immediately, without hesitation, and made her lie down on the sofa. It was a strange kiss, for both of them, they had their respective boyfriends, some more important than others, but that kiss seemed, for both of them, like the best of all. Y/N wrapped her arms around Bucky's neck as he slowly stroked her hips, causing her to sigh against her mouth.
"Jamie." "Mh, say it again." He whispered embarrassed, continuing to kiss her. "You said you didn't like it." "Yeah but you make it look so innocent and sexy at the same time..." The girl giggled, falling silent as she felt Bucky's lips on her neck. "No, James..." "Why?" "Your parents might come back." "Room?" "Definitely." Bucky laughed at her and picked her up, carrying her up the stairs and then into her bedroom. "What a gentleman." He smiled to Y/N, when James placed her carefully on her bed. "Thanks, I know." They both laughed, then Bucky looked into her eyes while he was still on top of her. "Are you sure you want to do this?" "Never been more sure, Buck." "Okay then ..." "Hey, relax. I love you." "I love you too."
Bucky Soulmate Hanahaki disease AU is coming next week
“Living in a world where the only vital reason to be alive is to find your soulmate is hard. Living in a world where you must find your soulmate among several billion people is even harder. Living in a world where hanahaki disease is spreading quickly and you only have limited amount of time to find your one and only is undeniably unbearable. Taking such information into consideration, what chances are left for 106 old grumpy man with pained past and present trust issues?”
a/n: hii so this is just gonna be a few short stories , scenarios￼ so yeah :D .and I wrote this in like half an hour so ignore any spellings or anything
So originally this was just gonna be 2 wips about peter but the second wip turned into a avengers family trope thing so :) enjoy ig 😀
I think peter would be overprotective in a relationship not like controlling or anything but he would just be scared of losing you and want to keep you safe
•like he would insist on walking you home from his place even though you lived in the apartment next to his or even if it was 11 in the morning he wouldn’t let you go alone.
•he would always swing by your window after patrolling and if you weren’t in your room he would freak out and call you or your mum to if you were okay . like one time you didn’t answer you phone and he broke through your window to screaming your name only to find you coming out of the shower , after that he was grounded for 3 months but it’s okay cause he snuck out everyday to patrol and see you
I feel like peter would be really excited to introduce you to the avengers for the first time . and when he told them about you they basically begged him to bring you over . when peter told you u were really excited but he was nervous cause he never he would never hear the end of it from tony . when you got there they loved you and you became a very welcome regular guest like
•you would go over there to see tony and bruce to help you with homework (or just cause you wanted there company )and yes peter is smart and could’ve helped you but tony makes it more fun
• you ,nat, wanda, would go shopping to together (nat would buy you both stuff cause she is basically your mum at this point ) . you guys would train together and these steve and bucky for being so old but it’s okay cause they just about understand there jokes
•steve, bucky and sam are basically your dads at this point and are very protective over you .like one time you had a bruise on the side of your face from walking into a door and Bucky took you straight to medical and gave you a lecture on being more careful
May I please request the reader working as Sam’s assistant with all his new cap duties and Bucky is always hanging around you guys, causing little messes for her to fix or asking you for help w technology he’s still not up with/anything just as an excuse to flirt 💜
this <3 there is something about Sam and Bucky's friendship that makes my heart swell
warnings; mentions of violence, injury, fluff
"Captain?" Your voice echoes through the comms. "Can you hear me? What was that?"
"Nothing," Sam grunted. "Just Bucky being an asshole."
"Clean up on aisle three, doll," Bucky's smooth voice fills your ears.
You sigh playfully as you skip towards the mess you know you'd have to clean up. Your heels clicked as you strode through white halls. The dead body of an enemy lay, stark against the pure linoleum. You sighed. This would take forever to clean. Bucky shot you a tight lipped grin from where he was standing in the corner of the room.
"Get out," you order.
Bucky grumbles a thank you and races off to find Sam.
"Okay, and today you have that press conference," you explain, jogging to keep up with Sam's long strides. "And Sarah wants to know what colour tie you're wearing so she can match."
You rounded the corner, scribbling down the orders that Sam was spitting out hastily. You nearly bumped into Bucky. He sighed in relief.
"Doll, I'm so happy to see you. What do I do with this?"
He handed you the watch you had gifted him just yesterday.
"Well, Buck. You use it to tell the time," the watch lay in your open palm.
"I know that, but yesterday it started flashing and humming. Is it supposed to do that."
You explained all the extra advantages of the watch. Technological advances you had added yourself, just for Bucky. And then you strapped it to his wrist
"Y/N!" Sam called desperately.
You scrambled out of bed, you had forgotten you had given Sam a key to your home. Your bare feet ran through the halls as you searched for Sam.
"I need help!" He yelled as you came sliding hastily into your kitchen.
"What happened?" You yelped as you watched Sam slump Bucky into one of your kitchen stools.
Bucky was bleeding from his abdomen, you think, His shirt was so caked in blood you couldn't tell.
"Lie him on the floor, quickly," you ran out of the kitchen and returned with a hefty first aid kit.
"Woah, doll," Bucky groaned as you sliced open his shirt. "Take it slow."
"Shut up, Barnes," you chuckles.
Bucky kept up the flirtatious banter even as you sewed him up. Then, once he could stand on his own. He turned to you with a cheeky grin.
Summary: Bucky is used to being alone, so is the girl living in apartment 3B. He keeps to his routine, to crossing off amends. But mutual loneliness forges an unlikely friendship. Alone and reclusive, sweet and incredibly strange, with deep secrets and regrets, 3B has more to reveal than meets the eye.
This Chapter: The group arrives in Madripoor and chaos follows.
Pairing: Bucky X Reader
Word Count: ~8.5K
Warnings: abandonment issues, violence, heavy kissing, fatws series spoilers
A/N: This series from this point forward assumes that you’ve seen fatws. This will be 7 parts. Please let me know what you think!
When the plane lands in Madripoor, they go about sorting out the outfit situation quickly. She’s skeptical at best of their grand scheme to masquerade through the city’s underbelly playing super villain dress up. She’s also none too pleased about Bucky’s reprisal of his winter soldier persona, especially since Zemo was meant to serve as a mock handler.
“Will you be okay?” She asks, trying to catch his eye when Sam and Zemo disembark, leaving them alone in the jet for a moment.
Bucky nods, not quite looking at her, as he digs through the garments and weapons in front of him. She wonders why Zemo has all of it at all. “I’ll be fine. Put this on.”
“And what is it?”
“Bullet proof vest.”
She turns when he motions her to, and lets him help her into it. Bucky spins her back around with light hands against her hips before he tugs the straps tight against her sides, eyes running over the material to make sure it was secure.
Reluctantly, he draws his hands away.
She presses her fingers into her palms, trying to still the way her heart crashes against her ribs. She remembers the way Bucky had drawn her close in his kitchen, boxed her in tight against the counter, kissed her breathless and happy.
Every time he kissed her had been like this first. Attentive and deep, like he was telling her something words could never convey.
And he made her flicker.
Happy flickers were rare. Negative emotions were much more potent for her, much more likely to swallow her whole. And yet, he’d managed it. He’d made her disappear with elation.
It hadn’t felt like disappearing into nothing. It had felt like melting into something.
“Bucky Barnes,” she clears her throat, shaking the thoughts away, “mightn't you consider wearing the bullet proof vest since you’ll be the one getting shot at?”
She hates the red jacket he’s wearing, she hates the buckle over his chest in a poor imitation of the winter soldier’s gear.
She hates that his shoulders are stiff with anticipatory violence, stress.
“But I’m not going to be visible,” she insists, “there will be nothing to shoot at.”
Zemo had suggested she stay out of sight with no small amount of poorly concealed disdain. His hastily concocted plan did not include her. But remaining invisible was one command she was familiar with and so she had amiably agreed. She excelled best when she could remain in the shadows anyways.
She and Zemo very clearly did not see eye to eye about their mission. He would like to see the serum destroyed, and while she disagreed with the imbalance it created in the world, she couldn’t agree with death or imprisonment just because someone had taken the serum.
He had rattled on about radicalization until she burst out in an angry torrent.
Might you be considered radicalized? Might carrying out death sentences to people you know nothing about simply because of something they’ve taken be considered radical?
Zemo was the most radicalized person in the room, he just had an elegant way of saying so.
Now, Bucky’s eyes lock into hers, the crease between his brows deepening. An expression she can’t quite read passes over his face, a mix of confusion and despair. “Just because you’re invisible doesn’t mean you can’t be hurt. Someone thinks they’re shooting straight but really it's through you.”
“If a bullet finds me while I’m invisible,” she muses, “might it not be fate?”
The blue of his eyes hurts her, eats right into the center of her soul. For a long moment neither of them says anything. The pain is still fresh, of being left behind without answers, of broken trust.
Some part of her knows, knows he hadn’t meant to do it. He would rather throw himself into flames than let her come by hurt. He radiates worry, fierce protectiveness.
She tilts her head to the side, not looking away from him. “I can handle myself, Bucky Barnes. I won’t be standing where I’ll get shot.”
“Like you can control someone else shooting at you? Why do you have to be difficult?” He asks, sarcasm heavy on his tongue. “Just wear it.”
“I have it on, don’t I?” She snips back. “You put it on too tight.”
“Good. That means it’ll stay on and do it’s job.” Bucky grunts, adjusts her shoulder straps gently, so they’re a tiny bit looser. “Just promise you’ll stay out of the line of fire.”
“I wasn’t aware I only came along to spectate,” she deadpans. “I told you I can handle myself.”
That same look flashes over his face. Fear, anxiety.
He’s afraid for her.
He’s afraid something will happen to her and it will be his fault.
Shock bites the inside of her skin with the realization. He’s afraid to lose her. He’s afraid of not being able to find her, should something happen.
“Would you,” he stops, pauses and gathers his thoughts, his eyes never drifting from hers, “if something happened, would I be able to find you? Or would you stay invisible?”
She reaches out and touches the skin of his wrist, his gloves not yet on. “I’ll be okay. You’ll always be able to find me, Bucky Barnes. It's you I’m worried about.”
He hands her a knife in a sheath instead of answering. “You shouldn’t have to use it. No one should get close enough that you have to.” His voice is almost a snarl, daring the unseen future to come close enough to try.
She takes the knife and tucks it into the strap around her thigh, over her jeans.
Bucky stares at her for just a beat too long. “God forgive me,” he mutters, before walking away. “Stay close to me. No wandering off.”
Madipoor is a glittering wasteland. It's lawless and strange and flawed. Most people openly tote weapons and sport hostile expressions. Neon blinks all around in a colorful whirl of drunken light. Drugs are packaged and sold openly, two fights break out near her and she narrowly avoids a thrown beer bottle that smashes into a wall behind her.
She’s fascinated, and wants desperately to trail off, to see all of what the place has to offer and collect whatever intel she can, see if there was any chatter about the serum among the swarms of people. Everything around her is a new sort of wonder.
They pass a few food stalls selling fried, fragrant food. She swipes something skewered on a stick as they pass by and nips into it.
It's chicken, salty and spicy on her tongue, and so delicious she starts to reach out to Bucky before she remembers she’s invisible and that they were currently on a mission, not tourists in a crime riddled city.
It gives her pause.
She never forgets when she’s invisible, the world soaring with senses sent into overdrive.
But looking at Bucky, it's easy to forget. She doesn’t feel lost with him, even if he can’t see her, and she has always felt lost to the world when vanished, like a ghost haunting the living.
They pass by a graffitied wall proclaiming the power broker ruler of all, all denizens under all knowing eyes.
She doesn’t doubt that’s the case.
Madripoor sends a little thrill through her, reminds her of what she's capable of. Unseen and unheard, she trails behind the trio of men, each of them dressed more ridiculous than the last. Between Sam’s getup and Zemo’s fur collared coat, they fit right into the crowd.
She stays close to Bucky’s side for the time being, though she doesn’t intend to follow his command entirely.
The crowd swims around her, some unknown force making people deviate slightly in their paths, just enough to avoid brushing against her, though she mostly stays directly behind Bucky. She so badly wants to reach out and touch him, press her fingers through his just so he knows she’s still there.
But she doesn’t.
She tells herself it's to avoid distracting him, but she knows it's because she’s afraid. The aching attachment and love that floods her when she looks at him scares her. It wasn’t wise to be so reliant on him. It wasn’t wise to be attached to anyone.
How many people had she thought were hers forever only to have them leave and disappear and die? How many others had she met that were ruined, destroyed by the inexplicable loss of one person or another?
The panic that had shuttered her soul for the days he had been away from her could not bode well. It reminded her of those first horrible days, where ash twisted in the sky, where mourning was so commonplace a smile felt like an open wound.
They are codependent, both of them, and she can’t help but think maybe being alone was better.
If only to save herself the heartache later. If she didn’t love him, if she did not need him to be okay, then he could not hurt her.
Still, she can’t help herself and reaches forward anyway to press her palm flat against the center of his back. Bucky doesn’t react, but she sees him dip his chin slightly.
I’m still here.
They were both still here.
When Zemo starts to lead them through the crowd, cutting a path toward the bar, she turns and peels off, skirting the far wall, watching the crowd watch the men.
Zemo says something to the man behind the counter as soon as they’re settled there. The bartender lifts a brow, turning to scoop a snake out of a jar that he promptly splits with a knife. Sam looks horrified while desperately trying not to.
She wrinkles her nose when motion catches her eye, a slight figure tugs their hood close and walks away, clearly avoiding the ostentatious group at the bar. She catches a flash of eyes and blonde hair.
For a moment she considers following the figure, but she doesn’t want to drift too far. Despite Bucky’s worrying, she had meant what she said. She could handle herself and would be useful if anything happened.
Besides, she does not want to leave Bucky, refuses to leave him in this place that was salivating over him, positively swarming to swallow him whole, disappear him into its guts.
Whispers spook and twist around the room like folklore and legends, nightmares and monsters, pounding on her ears, drawing her close. Winter Soldier, Winter Soldier.
A far cry from Bucky Barnes. Her Bucky Barnes.
Sarcastic and caring. Sad and attentive. Protective and watchful and very annoying.
She would not give him up to the cesspit they’d waltzed into, not for anything.
She savors the last bit of chicken on the stick before tossing it away and moves behind a group of inebriated men. One of them has a pistol stuck in the back of his pants. She tugs it out and keeps moving, circling back to the bar, checking the chamber and tucking it into the waistband of her jeans.
A muffled hey resounds behind her before a scuffle breaks out.
Panic threatens her lungs at the feel of the cold metal. There hasn’t been a gun in her hands in years. She hates how heavy it is, how cold.
How it reminds her of the monster inside her skin, of what she was capable of becoming.
She tilts her head to the side as she moves, watching Sam, Bucky, and Zemo carefully, a rage building deep inside her chest at the expressionless puppet Bucky is pretending at.
Given the chance, she would punch Zemo straight in his smug face.
Sam poorly conceals his disgust when the drink is finally passed to him and for a moment Bucky’s facade breaks, his mouth twists before he looks away.
Sam slugs back the awful looking shot, snake guts foul on the counter in front of them.
The group near her is whispering, discussing how best the winter soldier can be utilized and in what ways. She knocks her hip into their table, shaking their drinks off to shatter on the floor.
“Bucky Barnes, how dare they erase you like this,” she says, her voice audible to her alone. “How dare they make you into nothing.”
The anger inside her grows.
She hates this plan.
She hates Zemo.
She watches Bucky intently as she circles closer to the bar. A man had approached them and walked away. She wonders if that means Selby might have denied a meeting. She wonders about the blonde figure.
Bucky is staring straight ahead when she slides behind the counter, standing beside the bartender who’s none the wiser of her presence. He’s looking directly at her but doesn’t see her. An infinite sadness empties into her belly. To be looked at and not seen, not heard, made her want to drown in sorrow.
It made her want to disappear for good.
It was also, she realizes, exactly what had been done to Bucky, to the winter soldier.
But he’s there and so she doesn’t feel alone, like she was floating and floating to never come down again.
He’s wearing that strange little pout he does when he’s thinking, the cold emptiness of his eyes pitching tar into her chest. She imagines lank hair framing his face, imagines stiff black leather instead of the supple red jacket. Bucky does a good job of pretending, hard and cold and distant.
Nothing but a body.
But he’s looking at her, and were his gaze not so deadened it would almost be like normal. They often did that, stared and stared until one of them spoke, both thinking and observing. She knew every minute movement of his face, every tiny detail and scar and expression.
When she tilts her head to the side, she half expects him to mirror her and do the same.
She wonders if Bucky realizes he’s started doing that, mimicking her.
Bucky glances away, leaning against the counter, saying something to Zemo.
Another man approaches the counter slowly, and Russain suddenly pours from Zemo’s mouth, a soft, whispered torrential command.
She’s loath to understand it, to watch on helplessly as Bucky disappears entirely inside himself, like a door closing on his eyes, twisting the hand backward that had landed on Zemo’s shoulder.
The sudden explosion of violence rocks through the room, the vipers nest teeming and frothing, desperate for blood.
She watches, horrified as everything she knows about him is erased. Replaced by unrecognizable violence. Thoughtful, silent, caring Bucky is gone, in his stead stands a monster, the legend they made him to be.
She wishes for the safety of her apartment in that moment. Of his hands on her hips, steady and strong, reminding her that she was solid and worth it. Of his lips slanting over hers, for quiet. For no past or present, only future.
Where people did not demand he turn into someone he hates.
Zemo looks to Sam, whose expression is worried, and says with no small amount of glee, “Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.”
She looks away, listens to bones cracked and tables smashed, cell phones lifted, voices swirled.
The bartender is on the phone, but his words are a buzz in her ears.
She can’t watch the spectacle, refuses to. She can’t watch him unmade.
She had thought she would be okay, that she could handle the violence coming with Bucky would entail.
Instead she reaches out and thrusts a knuckle into the soft skin behind Zemo’s ear. He hisses and slaps a hand over the bruise that’s already forming just as Bucky slams a man down onto the counter by the throat directly in front of her.
The metal of his arm glints, his breathing is ragged.There’s blankness in his eyes that she doesn’t recognize, that makes fear shift and coil in the pit of her soul.
Bucky erasure form the world is different than her’s, maybe it's worse. What was it like to have your mind go blank and fuzzy, a white hum of complacency?
The blankness fades, replaced with panic, horror.
How easy indeed.
Guns cock and point, feet shift. Sam’s hand lands on Bucky’s arm, concern pouring off him in waves.
She pulls out her own weapon, and makes sure a round is in the chamber as she scrambles over the counter, pressing between them and the frothing crowd, hyenas waiting for blood.
Maybe Bucky was right about the vest. Was she willing to let herself get blown to bit for these men?
Yes, she thinks, not Zemo but Sam and Bucky certainly.
Because the world needed them, because they were more than this room. She keeps her arm loose, gun by her side, waiting.
But Zemo calls Bucky off, like a master with a well trained dog. She wishes she would have punched him harder.
“Selby will see you now,” she hears the bartender say quietly.
If she thought the bar was disgusting, Selby’s lair is worse.
She had heard Bucky ask Sam, quietly, mouth barely moving, “Where is 3B?” His voice was calm but she could detect the shake of worry just beneath the surface, the harshness of a threat if something had happened to her.
“I don’t know,” Sam had answered just as silently when Zemo glared at them.
She hadn’t had a chance to touch Bucky, let him know that she was near and that he was safe and seen, and instead now stands beside one of the guards, gun drawn and waiting as Bucky is stood in front of Selby and offered like a piece of meat, examined like merchandise.
Rage chokes her, anger and helplessness she hasn’t known since the days of the blip, whiting her vision out. To have to be silent and watch is horrible.
She had thought she could handle coming along with them.
Maybe she was wrong. She wants to slip inside the dark place inside her mind, cocoon herself in grief and rage. To tear and rip and burn.
She can’t watch Zemo touch Bucky, can barely breathe through their conversation for the low hum of wrath simmering just below her skin.
He will do anything you want.
Her head jerks up involuntarily, blood draining away from her face in dread. The rage simmering in her gut threatens to explode.
“You bitch,” she whispers into nothing.
Selby’s smile makes her sick but she listens carefully, logging away the details of the conversation, not letting her eyes wander from Bucky again. If their roles were reversed he would not let her go unseen, he would not leave her alone.
She thinks about tearing the world apart, burning down this bar, if it meant they didn’t have to be in this room, if she didn’t have to watch Selby salivate over Bucky.
But things seem to be going to plan, when Sam’s phone rings.
The silence that echoes between the rings is so loud it drowns her. Sam is in front of her, the guard beside her tensing, his finger moving to the trigger.
She steps between them, waiting. She would be quicker, she would wound the guard first.
Sam picks up the phone and the conversation that follows is painful to listen to. Sam is a soldier she thinks. Stealth didn’t seem to be a strong suit.
“Sam?” says Sebly. “Who’s Sam?”
She sees a glint through the window behind Selby a second before the bullet flies through the window and kills her. Sam spins and she ducks out of his way, shooting the guard across the room in the knee instead, Bucky grabbing punching him in the face on his way down, snatching the gun out of his hands.
Bucky looks across the room, looking for who shot, and so she materializes.
His eyes dart to the gun in her hands, before his shoulders relax a fraction. “C’mon 3, we gotta go.”
She follows after Sam and Zemo to a back door, standing behind Bucky, tucking the pistol back into her jeans.
“Where’d you get the gun?” He asks, not looking back at her, his eyes focused on the room beyond.
Chaos is breaking out, she can sense it in the air. Taste it.
“We need to go,” she says, instead of answering Bucky’s question and revealing something about herself, “something’s happening.”
“She’s right,” Zemo says. “Leave your weapons and follow me.”
She doesn’t dare drop her gun.
They start out onto the street when Bucky turns, his arm barring her from moving further. For a moment, cold fear floods her, but then the ice in his eyes thaws just a little, and it's like it's just the two of them in the world, sitting calm and talking. “Stay out of sight,” he says. “Please.”
She nods, disappearing immediately, and he whirls away but it becomes clear as soon as they’re on the street what has happened. There’s a bounty out and the shooting begins almost immediately.
Her heart seizes, she feels exposed and raw, like she’s stepped into the past.
Still her hands dart out and she manages to grab Sam and Bucky before they start running in earnest, shots ringing, bullets whizzing.
She tries to concentrate as the boys tug her along, to get the power humming inside her, the thing she spent so much time stomping down, to spread.
It takes a moment and it surprises her that neither Bucky nor Sam shake her hands off altogether.
It rips outwards suddenly and her breath catches.
She stops and yanks them both hard to the side of the street, between two steel pillars.
“Stop, stop, stop-,”
“We gotta keep goin’,” Sam says.
“They can’t see us. They can’t see you,” she pants, squeezing their hands as hard as she can. “Don’t let go, don’t let me go. I’m sorry, I couldn’t grab Zemo too.”
Her breath is ragged and hard, a pulsing headache creeping up her spine with the effort. “Don’t let go. They can’t see us, they can’t see us. I promise.”
She can’t stop repeating the words as memories flood her mind unbidden.
We’re safe, we’re safe. They cannot see us.
October 2019 - 4 months after the blip
Power vacuums were common after the blip. Whole towns and regions lost their entire governments, every mechanism of social control.
Countries disappeared, borders dissolved, and that bred gaping holes left in the landscape of the world.
Towns were taken over by anyone with enough firepower and followers to do so. The government couldn’t reassert control fast enough, didn’t have enough people to do so, and it was taking months to root out every town that suddenly had different rules and laws and borders from everyone else.
The first time she had killed one of those men that believed the world was theirs, ripe for plucking and shaping to their desires, it had felt good.
Blood had spattered warm over her hand. It had felt good to take something for once, to use the thing inside her for something other than feeling guilty she had it at all.
They terrorized large swaths of people, and in return she took their lives.
She lived as a ghost.
She ate and slept when she had to, but she did not feel alive. Her soul had floated away when her whole family, all her friends, had turned to ash and left her alone in a broken world.
People began to recognize her when she wasn’t invisible.
But it ate at her soul, she had so much blood on her hands. Horrible or not, they were people, and killing gave her no joy. Vengeance did not heal, did not make her feel any better.
So, she had found a different way.
Now, she grips the fingers of the mother and child she was escorting out of the town, men fringe the trees ahead of them, flashlights and guns sweeping the ground.
The town is on fire behind them. There’s a flash drive with intel in her pocket.
“They can’t see us, or hear us,” she whispers, “Don’t worry. A mile or so more and you’re safe.”
“My husband?” the mother asks.
“FBI is supposed to raid here in less than 24 hours.”
“They deserve to die for this.”
“Maybe,” she turns to meet the woman’s eyes. “But that question is above you and I.”
For a moment it’s quiet, then the woman squeezes her hand “Vanish? Thank you.”
She tightens her fingers on Bucky’s hand, sure that she would be hurting him if not for the supersoldier strength in his veins, fighting the urge to throw up.
She’s bent forward slightly, her eyes clenched closed, breath shaky in her lungs as she fights off the memories. Bucky looks over her head at Sam whose eyes are wide as she straightens up and takes a deep breath.
Something is on fire across the road, but all she sees are burning houses, a town on fire.
She flinches away, tugging on the guys’ hands.
“3B?” Bucky asks, fierce concern in his voice.
Sam glares at him.
“They can’t hear us either,” she whispers, shaking her head, trying to reassure Sam. “They can’t see us and they can’t hear us. It's okay,” she swallows thickly. “I’m okay.”
“You sure?” Sam asks, trying to get a look at her face.
She nods, meeting his eyes with a grimace. “Just peachy,” her voice scratches in her throat, tight and thin.
The shooting continues, motorcycles racing up and down the street searching for people they can’t see.
Sweat beads on her forehead with the effort to control her gift, to keep them hidden. When she feels she has a handle on it, like they won’t appear suddenly if she wasn't concentrating entirely on keeping them hidden, she turns to Bucky. “I’m sorry, Bucky Barnes,” she says, and a strangled expression crosses Bucky’s face. He opens his mouth but she continues anyways, “I did not mean to scare you. I’m not used to hiding others anymore, especially not two grown men.”
She turns to Sam. “And I’m very sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. This is damn useful.”
They watch for a moment as people race by them, none the wiser that they stood right in front of them, the thing they wanted most in the world. She closes her eyes, trying to quell the panic rising inside her. “You can’t let go of me,” she explains, “ Or you’ll appear, contact must be maintained. But Bucky Barnes, I need you to move your hand to my shoulder.”
“Why?” he grunts, his fingers tightening on hers. “No.”
She tilts her head to the side, curious that he wouldn’t want to release her hand, a hurt edge in this voice. Watching the street, the fluttering light and movement, she listens carefully. “Because Zemo is going to come back around eventually and I need to grab him.”
“I’ll grab him,” Bucky says immediately, not letting go of her hand.
“Are you really going to argue with her about this right now?” Sam asks, incredulous.
“I’m stronger, he’s going to pull her down.”
“Bucky, shut the hell up and move your-,”
She’s tired, exhausted, the effort to keep them hidden draining her.
“I have to grab him,” she snips at Bucky, “because I need to be touching him. Chains don’t work.” She had learned that the hard way.
She turns and levels him with an irritated gaze. “It has to be me. And I am perfectly strong enough to handle Zemo. But I’m left handed so I need you to move your hand.”
He stares at her, the crease between his brows appearing that meant he was truly concerned. Sweat beads on her forehead from the force of her effort.
For a moment he doesn’t say anything and she thinks he’s going to refuse to do as she asks. But then Bucky, sighs and lets go of her hand, trailing his fingers up her forearm and bicep to land lightly on her shoulder.
She shivers hard, her raw skin igniting at the pulse of his touch. The feel of his fingers trailing up her arm makes her want to crawl inside his skin, to pull him close and keep him there forever. All she wants in that moment is to be back in New York, curled on the couch with Bucky.
She misses those few weeks of bliss desperately. Where he kissed her without restraint, smiled at her more often. Weeks where he wasn’t remade for no reason, where she wasn’t forced to use her gift.
Silence spans between them before Sam asks, wonder in his voice, “Is it always like this?”
“Yes,” she whispers, closing her eyes. Maybe she should explain more but she doesn’t have the energy to.
“Just when you’re invisible or always?”
“Just when I’m invisible.”
“Like what?” Bucky asks, looking between the two of them like they’ve finally lost their minds. “What are you talking about?”
Sam glances at him, confusion pulling at his mouth. “It's...everything is brighter, more vibrant.” Sam looks up, staring around at the neon gilded buildings, the fire across the road.
Veiled inside the cocoon of invisibility, everything in the world that they suddenly weren’t a part of became more. Sounds were sharper, colors more vivid, the world a spectacle of light and noise and whirring colors.
It feels like a fever dream, like looking into a kaleidoscope.
“Looks the same to me,” he says, sounding disappointed, almost bitter.
She’s not sure how to explain it to Bucky, wasn’t sure why he wasn’t able to see things the way they did.
But she doesn’t get another second to contemplate it because Zemo passes by. She lunges forward and clotheslines the passing body, hooking her arm around his neck and knocking him to the ground.
Zemo thrashes out, landing a punch to her side that makes her grunt, the pain sharp and hard. Bucky reaches out with his other hand to grab Zemo by the back of his coat and haul him up. “It's us, stop struggling,” he hisses.
She catches Zemo by the wrist. “Sorry about that. There was no other way to stop you,” she says as he rubs his neck and coughs. Her eyes are fringed with tears from the sucker punch, the muscles of her throat straining.
“Really?” he asks sarcastically, “no other way you could think of?”
“None that I wanted to think of.”
She glances around, and spots who she’s looking for. The street has cleared out a little, the violence moving to the next road over as the crowd searches for them.
In front of the building that the shot that killed Selby had come from, stands a blonde figure, the same one from the bar earlier.
“Sam,” she says, turning to look at him. “If you look over my shoulder, there is an alleyway. Sharon Carter waits for you there. It would seem she shot Sebly for you.” Sam looks surprised but turns to look where Sharon is standing in the mouth of the alley, hood pulled up over her head as she scans the street.
“When you feel it's safe, you and Zemo go. I think we can agree, we’re mostly in the clear now.”
He nods, Zemo grudgingly agreeing.
As soon as they start across to the alley, she steps away from Bucky’s touch, shaking his hand off her shoulder, leaving him standing visible and alone for a moment as she tries to get a handle on the emotions and pain whirling through her.
She shimmers back into reality after a few long seconds, still breathing hard.
Exhaustion sweeps through her as she swipes her fingers below her eyes, dashing away the tears. “Are you hurt?” Bucky demands.
“I’m fine, Bucky Barnes.”
“Are you sure?” He reaches out to her, metal fingers nearly brushing hers. “If you’re hurt-if something happened,” he stutters out, “Adrenaline can mask pain-,”
“Yes, I’m quite sure,” she says delicately, avoiding his hand. Bucky jerks back from her, as though burned, like he’s just remembered that her skin was poison. But her senses are overloaded, and any touch might make her descend into the hole in her heart trying to swallow her down, and so she can’t reassure him in that moment. “They’re waiting. We should go.”
She turns and walks away, trying to seal away the pain that she cannot let Bucky see. He walks slightly behind her as they cross the road and head toward where the rest of their group stands.
“Barnes,” Sharon greets. “Everytime I see you, it's because I’m saving your ass.” She jerks her chin in her direction. “Who’re you?”
She sighs and holds out her hand to shake, “I’m just the neighbor.” Beside her, Bucky’s jaw tightens, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “Sharon Carter. Very good of you to show up when you did.”
“Do you know each other?” Sam asks, glancing between them.
“We don’t,” Sharon says, “But I saw your trick there. Impressive. That’s a pretty useful skill to have.”
Zemo pipes up then, looking at her, something sly in his voice, “Interesting that you know of Sharon then. Maybe you work for the same agency as she did?”
Bucky’s head snaps toward her. “I don’t work for anyone,” she says, her voice streaked with fatigue. “I’m a student.”
“Ah, but you’ve used the same trick, have you not? Sharon, I believe you once posed as Steve Rogers’ neighbor?” He asks the question as though talking about the weather, like it was inconsequential. He shrugs, pursing his lips, “Now I understand why you’re so invested in James.”
Bucky’s eyes are locked onto her, she still feels woozy and weak, and can’t make herself meet his eyes.
But she knows he’s buying it, maybe just a little bit. Because Zemo has studied Bucky, knows exactly what gets under his skin and makes him tick, makes him doubt and hate and break.
He was making him doubt her. And it broke her heart that Bucky seemed to believe it, realization flashing over his face.
The rage that has cooled in the intervening minutes since the shootout suddenly turns bright hot white again, surging up her throat.
“Not that I should need to defend myself against you,” she says, deadly in her calm, prim and straight backed. “But did you know, Zemo, that almost every US embassy and consulate in the world now had a hero response unit?”
He only stares at her.
The alley is silent.
“Well,” she continues. “Now you know. They all have units specially trained and equipped to handle any mess American heroes make with locals. Units to aid with clean-up and deaths and destruction caused by these events. Such as blowing up the UN for example, and the violence and mayhem that follows such an act. Before the blip ruined my life, I wanted to work in one of these units in an embassy. I know what it is to be affected by superheroes too, to have your whole life hinge on them, to have the whole course of your life altered because of them. It was only to my benefit in school to know every hero and associate of theirs. Like Agent 13.”
She glances at Sharon whose eyes are wide, watching with interest. She lets an edge creep into her voice and glares at him, “Take care not to accuse me of false affection again.”
Bucky is searching for 3B, pushing through the crowded halls and dance floors of Sharon’s place. Partygoers throng every inch of available space. He had checked the bedroom Sharon had shown her to earlier, so she could lie down, and found it empty. The only sign she had been there at all was a slightly rumpled bed cover.
By the time they made it to Sharon’s she had been swaying on her feet, dizzy and nauseous. Bucky had carried her to bed, reassured himself that he was down the hall should anything happen. That she was fine, that she was safe, despite being drained.
She had been warm and heavy in his arms, fingers pressed against his sternum. Bucky had taken the knife out of the holster on her thigh, the gun from her jeans, and resolved to ask her about her past. He had touched her forehead carefully, and wondered who she was, who she had been before, during the blip.
It seemed to him she’d never tell him if he didn’t ask. Maybe she was afraid he wouldn’t accept it as a part of her. But of all people, he couldn’t judge another for their past and what they kept hidden.
Now, he catches a glimpse of Zemo dancing as he passes through a dance floor and thinks about clocking him for punching 3B earlier. He can’t begin to guess where Sam and Sharon are in the mansion.
Worry is clawing at his belly, pinching and pricking. Exhaustion had been evident in 3B’s eyes, weighing on her. It was something more than just weariness, though. It was something bone deep, something he recognized in himself, when the past came calling and threatened to drag him down, to drown him.
What if she up and left? Decided that coming along was too much?
He’s thinking about maybe trying to call her when he spots her through a wide archway.
She’s the only still spot in the room, people dancing and grinding around her, drinking and talking and laughing. She stands there entirely alone, statuesque and quiet in front of a glass case that houses a painting.
Sharon must have lended her something to wear. The dress she wears is tight in all the right places, barely covering the curve of her ass, glittering heels on her feet.
But he breathes a sigh of relief, because she’s here, she’s safe. He cuts through the masses to stand next to her, narrowly avoiding someone’s drink.
A longing tugs at his heart, tells him to reach out and take her hand, but he doesn’t.
While they had been invisible together a wild look had lodged itself firmly in her eyes, almost crazed with sensory overload and strain to keep them all hidden. Bucky had never seen her panicked and afraid, and he knew that she had gone somewhere else in her mind, somewhere he couldn’t reach.
And after, she clearly hadn’t wanted to be touched. Not by him anyways.
He doesn’t say anything, watches her tilt her head to the side examining the art in front of her.
“Doesn’t something about this strike you as wrong?” She asks, turning her eyes on him, blinking owlishly at him, so herself again that it gives him whiplash.
He’s transported back to Brooklyn, back to her apartment. It's just the two of them in all the world.
“What about it?”
“Not the painting. This,” she gestures around. “Selling it? These are precious cultural history, meant for public consumption and ownership. To hoard it and sell it to private collectors...is there not something evil about that?”
He puts his hands in his pockets, mirroring the tilt of her head. “How so?”
“Because it's taking something meant for everyone and hiding it away. It's a supreme act of selfishness. Also, who historically deals in art theft? Nazis during World War II. Colonizers in Africa. Americans in Iraq. It's not such good company to keep.”
If Bucky’s honest in that moment, he doesn’t care about the art or who has it. He’s distracted by the little black clubbing dress she has on, tight against her skin. He’s distracted by her soul diving right into his as she holds his gaze.
“I’m sure Sharon has it under control,” he tries, voice sticking in his throat.
She hums, “Something’s wrong here. I just don’t know what.” She reaches out then and gently touches his cheek. “Are you okay?”
The concern in her voice, the way it shakes with repressed worry, gives him pause.
“Fine, sweetheart,” he says, trying not to move, trying not to spook her and make her take her hand away. Her skin is warm and soft against his. Bucky leans into her palm, just a little. “It's not me I’m worried about.”
3B’s face contorts then, grief and confusion warring, her expression folding in. “Dear heart,” she says, making his face warm a little, the pet name sweet on her lips. “I am so very sorry for what you were put through today. I wanted to take off Zemo’s hand. And I’m glad Selby is dead for looking at you like that.” She takes her hand away from his face and instead fists both in the lapels of his jacket, a fierce, possessive look in her eyes. “They were like jackals. I was standing there like one of them and I felt eaten.”
She swallows hard and continues, “I would like you to know, Bucky Barnes, that even when I’m invisible and I’m with you, I don’t feel lost. I felt lost for a very long time. I felt swallowed by the world but not anymore.”
He realizes in that moment, that she would go to war for him, that she would protect him until her last. It makes him feel stupid, like a fucking fool, for thinking even for a moment that maybe she worked for someone and was watching him, that they were false, that it was all some elaborate game.
Bucky knows she saw it written on his face in the alleyway, that he bought into it for a split second.
Her voice had split the alleyway wide open, brooked no room for argument.
Take care not to accuse me of false affection again.
Bucky can only look at her, knows exactly what she means when she says she feels eaten by the world, swallowed whole and spit out, used. “I don’t feel lost with you either.”
Her fingers are tapping slowly against his chest, in time with the thumping music. “You don’t know what that means to me.”
“I think I have an idea.”
Slowly, so she has time to step away, he presses his hands against waist, tugging her closer until he can press his forehead against hers, not breaking her gaze, her hips flush to his. They stay like that for a moment, the pulse of the music vibrating in his bones. 3B is supple and warm under his hands as he rubs circles into her hips with his thumbs.
She feels so good against him, like a piece of a puzzle he didn’t know he was missing.
“I forgive you by the way.”
Bucky forces a chuckle, “God, for which thing?”
“For leaving me behind,” she whispers, sliding her hands up his chest, to lock behind his neck. Her fingers feathering through his hair, making a shiver creep down his spine. “I know that you didn’t want to. And I know you’d do anything to come back, or at least tell me.” She pauses and looks away, swallowing hard before she meets his gaze again. “I hope you know I would have burned that place to the ground for you. I saw how they wanted to keep you, but they can’t have you, Bucky Barnes.”
She presses that much closer to him, her hand moving to his face, “As you’ve said, I’m yours, and you are very much mine.”
In the darkness of the room pulsing room, lights flashing, bodies swaying, they’re in their own little world, an island of silence and stillness. There is only Bucky and her, there is only his hands on her, his whispered breath against her face, the blue of his eyes like the sky and the sea, like sleet clouds and peaks of mountains.
Bucky’s breath catches, a little hitch in his lungs, and then she kisses him, full and fierce, pressing as close as she can, hoping she’s saying it right, that he might understand her. But Bucky always understands her, understands what she needs and what she means, even when the words don’t quite line up right. The stubble of his cheek is rough against hers, his mouth hot.
He kisses her back, desperate, arms tightening around her until it's almost painful. She has the sense he’s trying to meld them together. “Sweetheart,” he pulls back just enough to whisper against her before his tongue slips into her mouth.
It's all consuming, his kiss, like fire and summer air, like rain after a long drought. He kisses her until she can’t breathe, she’s gasping hard against him and has to pull away.
She doesn’t want to, would happily die kissing him.
Panting, he presses his nose to the side of hers, before tilting his head at the door. “C’mon.”
He leads her out of the room by the hand, past packed ballrooms to a dark hallway lined with plush sofas. She feels giddy and light when he pulls her down into his lap to straddle his thighs, cradles her back so carefully, kisses her so hard, like he wants nothing more than to fall into her.
Bucky’s hands land on her thighs, tracing up smooth skin, one hot as fire, the other cold as night. She aches for him, wants him to keep touching her. Her borrowed dress is bunched and tight almost up to her hips, her legs bare against his jeans. The rough fabric makes her feel raw and exposed, like she’s lit from the inside.
It would be so easy for him to move the fabric of her dress, to press his hand between her legs.
But he doesn’t. His hands remain on her thighs, slipping up and down, palms cupping her hips, the crease of her knee, her ass.
“3B,” he says when she trails her mouth over his cheekbone carefully, littering little kisses there, trying to wash that place off his skin, the stickiness it had left on her soul.
She fights not to disappear, to stay here with him. She almost fails when he runs his hands up her sides and over her breasts, thumbs tracing her nipples through the thin material of the dress. A moan collapses from her lips but his hands don’t linger, flitting down to her waist, pressing against the small of her back.
Arching into him, she kisses across his cheek, down his jaw to his neck, she sucks a bruise into his collarbone that will be gone in ten minutes. Bucky’s hands tighten hard on her hips, thumbs bruising her hips.
He inhales sharply when she traces her hands over his chest, jerks down the collar of his shirt to kiss his chest, his shoulder.
She nips at the soft skin, teeth grazing hard muscle. “3,” he moans, curling his hands through hers, holding them against her hips. She pulls back, to look down at him, to brush her hands roughly through his hair.
His lips are kiss swollen and so very pretty. Blue eyes wide with an emotion she can’t pinpoint. “Do you mind that I call you that?”
“Huh?” Her mind can’t catch up to the question. “What?”
“3B. You told Sam you it was an unfortunate name. I’ll stop calling you that, if it bothers you.”
She tilts her head to the side, watching him watch her, his mouth crooked in a frown, club music still pulsing through her veins, through the deserted hall. She presses her thumb to the center of his full bottom lip, wondering why he’s thinking of that, why he looks so sad. She had almost forgotten she'd said that at all, meant it in jest. “Of course I like that you call me that,” she says. “You gave it to me.”
He wants to ask her something else. But she can tell he doesn’t want to disrupt them, he wants to keep kissing her, touching her. A curl of pride spirits through her veins. His desperation is because of her, and it made her blood sing.
She moves off his lap, curling into his side instead, pressing her hand under his shirt to rest against his ribs. Bucky jerks in surprise but then settles. She traces the lines of his ribs, the ridges of muscle, and waits, tucking her head beneath his chin.
She can feel his heart running laps against her hand, beating in time with the thud of music.
“Today wasn’t the first time you’ve handled a weapon. Or hid people,” he says eventually, his chin rubbing slowly against the top of her head, arm curled protectively around her waist.
“Now, what tipped you off to that?” She snarks, pressing her nose to his shirt, inhaling an unfamiliar scent on him that she recognizes as cologne. Normally he smelled like soap and city, like detergent and smoke.
“3B,” he warns, pulling her tighter against him, dropping his cheek to her forehead.
“No.” She agrees, “It wasn’t.”
For a moment, she considers just kissing him again, pretending that they were normal, that he didn’t need to hear her story, that it was of no consequence.
But she knows Bucky’s entire awful past, knows how much more had happened than what’s written down after seeing how Selby looked at him. It made her want to cry and scream, to claw her grief out of the earth and make someone pay.
Bucky knows pain. He would understand hers. She would not be abandoned.
So, she tells him.
She tells him about killing those men who thought they ruled the world when everyone disappeared. She tells him about escorting women and children away when that didn’t work, working with the FBI to set things right instead, gathering inside information for them about the groups controlling the towns.
She admits it to him, every awful bit of her past. Every awful moment of being alone.
How she used her gift for terrible things and how she worried those things might come back to haunt her.
“That’s why the Flag Smashers know you.”
“Yes,” she says. “Word got around about what I did. Who I was and how I helped. You can understand why they might want me around, why a gift like mine would be useful.” She shakes her head, “It's a terrible thing. It's made me-.”
Bucky reaches for her, tilts her head to his, his hand cradling her jaw, thumb swiping over her cheek. “You aren’t your gift. It’s just part of you. You did what you thought was right. I can’t say I’d have done anything different.”
They are her sister's words echoed back to her over months. You did what you thought was right.
She meets his eyes and holds his gaze, heart seizing, “Bucky, please believe me. I don’t work for anyone now. I haven’t for a while.”
“I know. I’m so sorry, 3B, I know”, he leans over and kisses her. Softly this time, an apology.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, “Thank you for always understanding me.”
She’s never believed in soulmates. But in that moment she believes that his soul at least matches hers, his soul was cut from the same scarred cloth.
Summary: shooting a fight shouldn't be as difficult for two professional actors.
Word count: 3.4k
Warning: poorly written smut (+18 only, please), mild degradation, choking, oral sex (f receiving), explicit language, semi-public sex (???), unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), this is a rpf so don't read if you're not comfortable with it.
A/N: after watching the assembled of tfatws and olli haaskivi's post about being chocked by the metal arm, inspiration hit me so, yeah. also, this is for @buckyownsmylife because she insisted that i should start writing and, how am i supposed to say no to her? i hope this thing makes sense and you like it at least a little. Lack of vocabulary, grammatical and orthographic mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*.
“It is simple,” Kari, the director, started explaining. “while Anthony struggles to separate John from Karli in the background, you and Sebastian will have a little fight over here.” she gestured with her hands as she spoke. “After she tries to knock you out, you take her with you and corner her against that wall…”
Sebastian’s eyes followed every move the woman did, absorbing the information she was giving.
You were about to shoot a scene for The Falcon and the Winter Soldier and you were nervous. Not only because it was your first fighting sequence ever since you landed in Prague, but also because you were supposed to do all the maneuvers of your character. According to Kari, it was going to be a single, long and intricate shot, which made it impossible for the stunts to do it themselves.
After talking to the choreographer and making one vague demonstration with Sebastian, you practiced all week, moving left to right in the reduced space of your room, kicking the air, jumping around and failing miserably when you slipped off the edge of the bed more times than you cared to admit.
Only when you understood that you wouldn’t be able to do it alone, you tried asking Sebastian to help you with some movements in which his body was required. Of course, he was busier than he'd be in other circumstances, now playing one of the biggest roles of the show, and told you that he'd for sure help you later.
Later quickly turned to tomorrow and then to next week but you were fine with it, you knew his schedule was tight and if he was not working, he was probably getting some well deserved rest.
Insisting was something you thought of doing, of course, but changed your mind the day you bumped into John, his stuntman, and he offered to help you.
He was really funny and you enjoyed spending time with him. He knew his job. He taught you some tricks for when you needed punch someone or when you had to fall backwards and not break your neck in the process, but most importantly, he knew how to make the practicing seasons less awkward in that singularly difficult part.
“… And then you throw her to the mat. Got it?”
“Yeah, it's gonna be fun.”
Kari turned to you with a smile on her face. “Are you ready?” she asked, oblivious to the fact that you had been lost in your thoughts for the last few minutes.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm ready.” You reciprocated her smile.
Your eyes followed her as she walked away to sit on her chair. Behind her, you visualized John waving at you and giving you two thumbs up, signaling that he was there to cheer and support you.
“Hey,” Sebastian’s voice caught your attention. “Are you okay?” You looked at him in the eye and nodded. You were okay, only not sure if you were going to do a good job. “Don't worry, just imagine you're doing it with John.” And with that, he left you to go to his initial position.
His words stuck in your head for longer than they should have. The way he said them was… how was it? Strange was the best definition you could think of.
Pushing the thought to the back of your mind, you walked to the blue X marked next to a wooden table in the other side of the room.
“And action!” Kari said, bringing the set to life.
Erin and Wyatt started with the last part of their argument when Anthony appeared to start with Sam’s speech about knowing what Karli had been through. “Captain,” said the director. “your turn.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Wyatt spat a tired comment and went to take the non existent shield in his back, unleashing hell… at least for the characters.
Their fight had just started when Sebastian approached them, prosthetic metal arm and all, to make his part helping Sam.
“Now!” Erin’s, well, Karli’s order worked as your clue to enter the scene, running straight to Sebastian to put him away from the others.
Unlike Erin, you were not wearing a mask. Your character was supposed to be hidden, ready and waiting for Karli’s instructions in case things went wrong.
Grey walls and blurry faces spun before your eyes as you whirled and jumped, pretending to punch and kick Sebastian.
The camera moved from Wyatt’s face to Erin who took off her mask and threw it to your direction, bringing the attention of the camera to you.
It went from your feet to your arms that grazed Sebastian's as if you two were in the middle of a dance. The lens, now focusing on Bucky’s arm.
Your hair, that had started tied up in a bun, was now loose thanks to the choreography and its intensity.
One of your boots touched Sebastian's ankle and he fell to his knee, you went back a few inches.
“Two more steps and your fist, Y/N.” Kari indicated. The colorful marks on the floor, agreeing with her.
You did as she said, moving your arm towards Sebastian’s face. He took your fisted hand in his, stood up and easily dragged you with him near to the closest wall. After all, he was too, playing a super soldier.
Your knuckles barely touched his chest and he staggered as if it actually had hurt him.
“Yes!” Hearing John saying that in the distance, you did your best to hide a smile. That part had been complicated while rehearsing but you just managed to make it look real.
With more straight that you anticipated, Sebastian's hand, the one with the fake metal arm, gripped your throat and walked you to the wall, slamming your back to it with a dry thud. A heavy and almost inaudible whimper fell from your lips, surprising both Sebastian and you, your eyes connecting instantly with his.
His palm was firm on you, the supposed-to-be vibranium glove slowly warming against your body heat and the end of the sleeve pressing against your pulse point.
Despite the barrier between his fingertips and your flesh, he could feel your rapid heartbeats and the way your breathing increased in speed by the second. His eyes, now following a drop of sweat that rolled down your cheek and fell from your jaw to the shirt you were wearing.
His fingers tightened their grip on you so mildly that the rest of the crew didn’t register it. For a split second you felt like your body was burning, as if he had poured gasoline on you and threw a match at your feet, waiting for you to turn to ashes.
“Now, straddle him.” That was the second time Kari’s voice brought you back to reality that day.
If you were not sure you’d be able to perform what was next before, you now knew you were about to screw it up.
The camera guy walked a few steps back to have a better view and when he stopped, you sweeped your arm under Sebastian’s to free yourself. He looked as deconcentrated as you were seconds prior.
He was quick to come to his senses and moved his leg to the front to help you climb his body like a koala. His right hand, hidden from the camera behind his torso, held your hip to keep you from falling.
Putting a leg on his shoulder, you pushed yourself up to bring your whole body to be on top of him, quite literally.
When you executed that part with John, there had been no problems; no complications while climbing him, no accidents while putting you down, no your inconvenient and unexpected arousal pooling between your legs almost touching his nose thanks to the closeness your current position had you in.
You tried to keep your intimate parts as far from his face as possible, with your ankles buried near his neck, the sides of your parted legs held by him and an annoying pang on your lower back caused by the, in your opinion, extremely necessary lean of your torso.
He walked a few steps away from the wall, trying to stop you from strangle him with your thighs.
One of your hands was on your knee steadying yourself, the other was taking a handful of his hair in a desperate attempt of your character to make him let go of your legs, and your hair kept covering your peripheral sight when you heard Sebastian inhale. A sharp and deep breath that ran down your spine. The moment he exhaled and looked up at you, your legs lost strength instantly.
“Shit” was all you said before you lost balance and felt your back hit the cold concrete, kicking the air out of you.
The entire set froze, people stopping whatever they were doing as soon as Kari screamed “Cut!” She and a few others approached you.
“Y/N, are you okay?” John asked as he leaned to help you get up. “What happened? You nailed that part this morning.”
Gazing at Sebastian, you saw him looking everywhere but in your direction.
“Well, it was just… not the same.”
“Timing is everything in these cases.”
You heard Sebastian telling Kari that he’d be right back, to which she said, “Alright, people, let’s take a break and then we’ll try it again!”
“I’ll go to fix my hair for take two.” You informed your friend and headed towards the dressing rooms, he went right behind you.
The walk was not long, and still, John found the time to scold you for not following his instructions in your last jump. Little did he know that was not the problem.
“Let’s just say that it is easier to do it with you.” You said, walking inside the room, leaving him laughing as you closed the door.
You were the only person there, the hair and makeup team nowhere to be seen. Sighing, you took off the hair tie and with a comb, started brushing your tangled locks.
Without warning, the door swung open revealing an exasperated and apparently angry Sebastian. With the look he was giving to you, he only needed the black mask to be the Winter Soldier.
“So, is that it?” he shortened the distance between you two with slow steps. “You prefer to work with Nania than with me? Is that why you were so uncomfortable while we were ‘fighting’?” his fingers making quotation marks.
With every step he took, you did the same, except backwards. When the back of your thighs hit the table in front of the mirrors, you moved to the side, approaching the door, ready to excuse yourself and run back to set.
You should have been faster, though.
Just as your fingers grazed the knob, his were already on you, holding you by the neck and slightly depriving you from your air supply. Only then you realized he was still wearing the metal arm.
“Is that why you'd rather it being him you're shooting that scene with?” his eyes were on fire, his beautiful features distorted by a grimace. “You like having his face between your legs?” Your breath hitched, this time for a reason beyond his fingers touching you. His words, having an effect they shouldn't have had in your body.
“Why do you care?” Your question, followed by his grip loosening a bit. “You didn’t have time to practice with me so he did it for you.”
His mouth molded into an incredulous smile and the laugh he let out had no humor on it.
“You really think that, don’t you?” With the back of his other hand, he caressed your cheek. The difference between his touches, making you tremble. “I kept delaying our practices because I knew that once you got your legs on my shoulders again, there'd be no going back.”
Your confused expression seemed to amuse him. He reduced the distance between your bodies to zero.
Bucky's suit was cold against the thin material of your shit, you felt his belt pressing in your stomach and something else right below making contact with your lower belly.
“And apparently, you felt the same way.” The hand that was tracing your jaw descended to your clavicle, passing by the space between your breasts and went down until reaching your cargo pants.
Your head was spinning, how did you get in that position? Why were you trapped against a wall again? But the most important question was, why were you enjoying it? “Sebastian--.”
“Shhhhh.” he shushed you. “Instead of saying whatever you were going to say, tell me,” his fingers found their way under your panties. “do all men that ever had you wrapped around them get you this wet?”
You snapped out of your trance. Bringing all your strength to your arms, you pushed him back successfully, no super soldier serum needed. “How dare you?”
“I dare.” The bluntness of his voice was shown when his fingers found your throat again and squeezed harder this time. “Don't act like you didn't like it when I did exactly this back there.” He repeated the action and your hands caught his wrist. A whimper, betraying your resistance. “Was it what made you all bothered that you couldn't handle me being so close to your sweet little cunt?” Cold air hit your legs. He somehow managed to unbutton your pants and drag them down until they were pooling around your boots. “Or was it the memory of John doing it what baffled you?”
You were out of words. Not only because his grip on you was still there, but also because you couldn't find a coherent answer to all of his questions. Not that it'd matter.
“I think I hit the nail on the head. ”His fingers moved your underwear to the side and parted your lips to start rubbing your clit in slow circles.
Your head turned to the right trying to suppress a moan, and you panicked. The door was still opened. Even when you two were covered behind it, someone could so easily enter and witness the show.
“Please.” You murmured.
“'Please', what?” You didn't know. You didn't know if you were asking him to stop his hand or to keep it moving.
Adrenaline ran through your veins, the idea of someone walking on you, moistening Sebastian’s hand more. His low chuckle hitting you in the face.
His fingers left your center and you almost yelled at him, the only things stopping you were the sight of him taking them in his mouth, groaning as he did so, and the force his other arm was still holding you with.
"You know?" His fingers slowly left your throat and traveled down your body until reaching your panties. "When I first saw you, I never thought you'd be so desperate to be filled up that you'd let the first guy that was nice to you have a taste." He yanked the piece of fabric down. “Let alone the one that bruised your beautiful skin and gets paid for it, too.”
The implications of his words should have made you kich him for real and leave him there to think about how he was going to apologize, but they didn’t. Instead, they planted you in that room like a tree, waiting for his next move.
You felt numb, your arms and legs tickling in anticipation as he fell to his knees.
“Who would have thought that you were such a whore?” He didn't even give you time to refute with his soft lips already pressing against your needy clit.
His hands opened your legs as far as possible and brought one of them to his shoulder, bending it and hitting the wall with your boot sole, surely leaving a dark stain.
At this point, you were probably delusional, too caught up in the pleasure that you could have sworn he was drawing the alphabet with his tongue.
A loud groan rumbled in the room the second his teeth lightly bit you. You covered your mouth with the back of your arm and prayed that there was no one outside to hear.
“Quiet, sweetheart.” His hot breathing hit your nub as he spoke, his lips grazing your sensitive flesh. “Don't want anyone knowing we're in the middle of a…” He left a soft kiss in your inner thigh. “conversation.”
“Ironic,” You almost whispered. “Considering how much I want you to shut up right now.”
The expression on his face had your hips involuntarily reaching for him.
“Your wish is my command.”
He resumed his assault with sloppy kisses and long stripes of his tongue from your center to your clit. The wet sound of his lips covered in your juices, obscene. The scratch of his beard having you seeing stars. The low cries leaving your mouth and the grip of your hand in his hair, motivating him to keep going.
Out of the sudden, his tongue entered you, making you jump and ripping a groan from your insides. You bit your lip to prevent it from happening again.
“Y/N, you there?” a fememine voice called for you.
Your shocked eyes found Sebastian’s, who, unbothered, continued with the task in hand, as if he didn’t understand the dangerous predicament you were in.
“Yes. Yes, I'm here.” You said, with the steadiest tone Sebastian's tongue allowed you to.
“Karli's looking for you. You better be ready in five.”
You could see her shadow peeking inside the room. She was four steps away from finding out. Three, the slight growth of it told you.
“Yeah, I'm--” Sebastian drawed away and you felt relief. But it didn’t last long. His finger quickly replaced his tongue and began moving in and out, hitting that spot everytime, making you gasp. Soon after, he added a second finger, making sure to be as silent as possible. “I'm coming.”
“Sweet!” the girl said. “Hurry up.”
You heard the door closing and internally thanked her for it as the sound of her footsteps faded.
“Shit.” You rested your head in the wall. “That was close.”
“Not the only thing that was close, though.” He observed, scissoring his fingers inside of you. The spontaneous action, surprising you.
With renewed speed, he moved his arm, circling his wrist and bringing his mouth to your clit once again. Your hips involuntarily jolted forward and his left hand went to rest in your stomach, pushing and stopping you from moving. He licked and slurped with such a ferocity that your release hit you with no warning. A silent scream reduced to a mewl ringing in your ears. Your body on flames again. It was as if he had activated the fire alarm but closed the windows to prevent the smoke from leaving the place.
For the first time that day, you didn’t question the fact that you were against a wall. Actually, you were happy it was there to hold you.
Sebastian stood up and with the back of his sleeve, cleaned the mess around his beard. You just pulled your clothes up.
“Oh, no, no, no. I’m not done with you yet.”
He towered in front of you, trapping your smaller body and hindering you from getting properly dressed again.
“B-but, I have to go back to the set and…”
“‘And’ nothing.” He reached for his belt, having it gone in a second and lowering his own pants along with his pair of boxers. “I told you there’ll be no going back.”
“No, I'm serious.” Your trembling hand set on his chest, trying to maintain some necessary distance. “I only have five minutes to get ready. Plus, I'm sure they're looking for you as well.”
“Five minutes?” he asked with a chuckle, ignoring the rest of your babbling. “I can make you cum again in three.”
“But--” His lips were on you before you processed it.
The kiss was sloppy, full of need and desire. The taste of yourself in his tongue, making you forget why you were so worried.
Not knowing what to do with your hands, you placed them in his shoulders, gripping the thick material of the suit. Meanwhile, he blindly got rid of your right boot, took your foot out of your pants and yanked your leg to rest it on his hip.
“God, I have wanted to do this for so long.” he said in between kisses.
You giggled, catching his attention. “We've only known each other for two months.”
“Feels like an eternity to me.” The sincerity of his words caught you off guard, you were not expecting him to say something like that, not while the tip of his length was already brushing your swollen lips.
“Then, what are you waiting for?”
Neither “longing,” “rusted,” “furnace,” nor the rest of Hydra's code to activate the Winter Soldier could have provoked the brutality with which he entered you as your words did.
His palm covered your mouth, making sure to muffle your otherwise loud scream.
The rhythm of his thrusts was fast, ruthless, desperate; eager to fulfill his promise, and do it in less than three minutes.
“C’mon!” He whisper-yelled, duplicating his efforts and hiding his face on the crook of your neck. When you clenched around him as his lips played with the soft spot of your neck, it was like a bulb lightened above his head.
He separated his face from your skin and, maintaining eye contact with you, the cold of his gloved fingers found your throat once more. The force applied, led you to your second orgasm like a tidal wave. Your teeth biting your lower lip and your eyes shut. Your body, floating in pleasure.
“Fuck.” His head fell back and his erratic movements weavered, your spamming walls bringing him closer and closer. All it took for him to finally release inside of you, was the tug of his hair that you used to connect your lips to his to silent your low cries.
Touching your forehead with his, he put an end to the kiss and drew out of you. Both, your juices and his seed going down your thighs.
You stood like that for a few seconds, trying to recover.
“Typically, you take the girl for dinner first.” You commented jokingly, in hopes to fill the silence before it became uncomfortable. He went to a drawer and handed you a towel for you to clean yourself.
“That’s the plan.” He smiled at your impressed look. “If you’re willing to let me have dessert after we leave the restaurant, of course.”
You rolled your eyes, but nodded your head nevertheless. “I like the idea.”
“Great! Uhm, I’ll go now. You better fix your hair fast.” He said as he fastened his belt. “Kari is looking for you.”
He grew closer to give you an unexpected fast peck and then walked to the door, opening it.
“Oh and, I think there's no excuse for you to stay away from me now, uh?” he winked at you and made his way back to the set.
“I guess not.” You murmured, knowing that he wouldn't listen.
Needless to say, the shot went perfect in take two.
Someone from the kitchen nodded Nicky over, affectively ending your one-sided conversation, wanting her attention for something. She sighed, before looking apologetically at you. Your eyes looked lost in the beyond as it were.
“Sorry, kid,” she said. “Mommy’s calling. I’ll see you around, Baby Blues.”
With that, she stood up, grabbed her tray and left you behind. You didn’t want to sit there all by your lonesome, so instead you took the opportunity when the officer wasn’t passing, to go bus your tray. You threw away the rest of the food, which was in truth most of the food, seeing your stomach couldn’t take any of it due to the lump already occupying the space, and placed the tray and mug in the case for washing. When you went to turn, officer Barnes had once again taken a steady stand between you and the door. You had to pass him to get out. God, you hoped you could do so without getting a comment or otherwise. But, of course not.
“Venting a little to the junkie, are we?”
He sounded almost more mocking than annoyed. Almost.
“What? You think Nichols gives a shit about you?” he scoffed, crossing his arms and looked out across the cafeteria. “Please. That family only look out for themselves. When push comes to shove, she won’t be anywhere to be seen. And we plan to do a lot of pushing, Harper. So, unless you want dear little Nicky to get pushed along with you, you’d do best to keep your mouth shut. ‘Cause there’s a lot of pot holes lurking here and there for a druggie, you know. And I’d personally hate for her to fall in one. You got me?”
Tears stung your eyes as they weighed you down. Your entire jaw was trembling, your teeth audibly rattling from it. The threats were no longer just about you, you could no longer only look out for your best interests, but others. People you now had come to care about. You would be totally responsible for anything that happened to her. He was giving it to you straight. Mouth off or tell anybody, someone else will pay the price with you. It was like being put in a straightjacket. Whatever small hope you had of talking to these guards seeped away. They wouldn’t listen to you. They weren’t out to hear the truth. They just wanted you to suffer. Alone.
Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as you tried to find your voice again. Your throat was clogged with pleas and cries for him to ‘please, don’t do this’, ‘please, don’t hurt her’. But what came out was a solemn;
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
Bucky boy can be a meanie too... And poor, lovely Nicky
Pairing: Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky found the girl of his dreams and Steve couldn’t be happier.
Word Count: Over 2.1k
Warnings: Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes, Mild Non-Con/Dubcon kissing (do not read if that upsets you), kidnapping, slight yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, threat of violence (not against reader), creepy Bucky and Steve, Bucky with glasses (It’s a warning, okay?)
A/N: Happy Sinday! Soft!Dark Bucky won this round. The @nix-akimbo edit inspired this fic and is a submission to @angrybirdcr’s 1K Challenge! Congrats, lovely!
I have discontinued my tag list. Please follow my sideblog @navybrat817-sideblog and turn on notifications to see new fics! I will only post fics and my writing schedule there.
This is not beta read, so any and all mistakes are my own! Please comment, like, reblog or send an ask if you feel inclined.
I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere but here or archiveofourown under my same username, it has been reposted without my permission. 18+ Please!!! By reading this, you agree that you are at least 18 years old. Enjoy and thank you, lovelies!
Gentle music and the scent of a mouthwatering meal filled your senses as you sat at the candlelit table. Steve Rogers, best friend to Bucky Barnes, refused to let you lift a finger as everything was set out, putting a plate down in front of you. It was your favorite meal. They put a lot of care into the details.
“Steve, you need to take a seat,” Bucky smiled as he sat beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulders.
“In a second. We have so much to celebrate,” Steve said enthusiastically. If he were a dog, his tail would have wagged. "And what is a celebration without a toast?"
“Please don’t give a speech,” Bucky groaned with a shake of his head.
“I’m giving one anyway,” Steve winked at both of you as he grabbed a bottle of champagne, leaving no room to argue.
“Here we go,” the brunette mumbled, but there was no malice in his tone.
“Growing up, dames couldn’t stay away from Bucky. Some days, I thought I’d have to beat them off with a stick,” Steve said affectionately as he opened the bottle, chuckling as some of it overflowed. “He was kind to them. Always a gentleman. We both knew he was waiting for the right one to come along.”
Bucky reached over with his other hand, wiping away a tear that fell from your eye. The metal fingers lingered on your skin until you looked at him. The smile on his face was tender and full of longing.
"We all know that HYDRA hurt him, but they didn't break him. He was never broken and he doesn't need to be fixed. All he needed was someone to give him a chance to see the good in him. He knew that person was out there. Then he found you."
Bucky's fingers left your cheek, gently skimming down the column of your throat as you looked away. Your skin somehow felt warmer under the cool touch, your heart racing as you felt his heated gaze on you.
"So when he came to me after all this time telling me that he met 'the one', I was thrilled. I couldn't believe it. I wanted to know who stole his heart," he went on, pouring each of you a glass. "He was so nervous for me to meet you that he didn't even introduce us that first day. We just sat at that café table while he went on about how wonderful you were. It was the sweetest thing. I wish you would have heard how lovingly he spoke about you, but you didn't even know we were there. That's okay. You know now."
Another tear fell as you listened. Bucky leaned in, gently wiping it away with his lips this time. He brushed another kiss to the corner of your trembling mouth, exhaling as he rested his forehead against your temple.
"You looked so beautiful. Like you walked right out of my dreams and into my life," he whispered.
"Naturally, I did my research on you," Steve went on, pausing to smile at you. "And I was impressed. You were kind and patient. Smart. Good. An easy person to fall in love with."
You closed your eyes, trying to keep your breathing calm and even as the emotions threatened to drown you from the inside.
"You can only imagine how shocked I was when he asked for help to make things official with you. I never thought I would live to see the day that Bucky would need my help getting a dame. I was always overlooked by people growing up, but not by him. He always helped me and stood by my side. I needed to help him, too."
Your eyes were still shut as Bucky turned your face toward his, cupping your cheek as he pressed his lips against yours. It was chaste at first, but it shifted to something more insistent. You tasted his desire. It was so strong.
"Getting you two together took a bit of time, but it was worth the wait. Wouldn't you agree, Buck?"
"Worth it," he agreed as he pulled away to let you breathe. His smile was so bright. It threatened to blind you. "Completely worth it."
"And the rest is history! You're here now. You have each other and I know you're going to have the happiest future."
You sniffled as both men looked at you expectantly. It was difficult to find the words, even as they tried to claw their way out of your throat.
"Say something," Bucky encouraged, a goofy grin on his face as he ran a hand through his hair, the fingers on your shoulder lightly tapping. In the right place and time, it would have been endearing. But now...
"Let me go," you finally whispered, your eyes filled with desperation as you looked between them. "Please, let me go."
Bucky’s fingers stopped as Steve stood up straight. Bound to the chair, you couldn't lift your arms to defend yourself. And breaking free wasn't an option. You tried.
“I knew we went too easy after that stunt you pulled,” Steve said as if he had scolded a child.
Bucky's eyes darkened as he suddenly gripped your chin, your heart slamming in your chest. It wasn't painful, but it wasn't soft either. Thankfully, he hadn't tried to hurt you. Yet. "Doll-"
"It's okay, Buck," his friend calmly spoke, urging him to let go.
"I just…" Bucky swallowed as he leaned back. He looked more hurt than angry, taking off his glasses to clean them. You wondered if they were for show to make him look less imposing. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."
"I know, but we stick to the plan," Steve told him, the chair scraping against the floor as he pulled you away from the table. The smile on his face was unnerving as he turned you to face him. And his eyes… They almost looked empty, but there was determination there that wasn't going away.
"I won't tell anyone. I promise," you swore as he shushed you. In that moment, you still didn't know what you had done to get Bucky's attention. But now you had all of it.
"I just need you to listen to me. Bucky loves you," he said, holding up a hand when you began to protest. How could he possibly love you? "He does. And I know you'll love him in time. You two are good for each other. You're exactly what he wants and needs. And I know he'll be those things for you."
"I don't need time. I need-"
"I know waking up here was scary. It's an unfamiliar place, but you'll adjust to your new life. You tried to run already and that didn't work. Did it?"
You shook your head. You barely made it out the front door before you were dragged back inside. From the quick glance, all you could see were trees. There were no other homes nearby. No one was around to help you.
"You're home now," Bucky said gently as he set his hands on your shoulders, your body going rigid from his touch. "This is our home."
You inhaled sharply, trying your best not to panic. The room felt too small. It felt like a weight settled on your chest. It hurt. "I have a home," you whispered. They took you from it.
"Your home is here now. It's your dream home. Exactly what you wanted and more."
You shook your head. The perfect design didn't make a house a home. It wasn't supposed to be a place where you were held captive. It wasn't meant to be a nightmare. "I have a job. My family and friends," you argued, focusing on steadily breathing in and out.
Steve looked like he was starting to run out of patience and you quickly closed your mouth. "You don't have a job anymore. We took care of that. Your job now is to be good to Bucky," he said sternly, either not noticing or caring about the anger in your eyes. "And as for your family and friends… What happens to them is up to you."
You almost stopped breathing when he smirked. "What do you mean?"
"I'm going to check in periodically. See how things are going. Bucky will have rules set for you and we expect you to follow them. If you disobey him, he'll punish you. And then I'll punish your family and friends," he told you, every trace of false friendliness gone.
You were horrified as you gaped at him. He said it so casually, like he was marking off a list at the grocery store. "Y-You can't. You can't do that!"
"Yes, I can. And I will," he said as you struggled not to burst into tears. "Believe me when I say that none of us want it to come to that, so it's just best if you obey and fulfill your duties."
"My duties?" you croaked as you felt Bucky's hand wrap around your throat from behind.
"As my wife" he whispered, his thumb moving over your pulse. "I'll be the best husband. I promise I'll make it so good for you. You'll never want anyone else again."
You wanted to yell that they were crazy. That you had no intention of staying there and being anything to Bucky. But you couldn’t let anything happen to the ones you cared about. “Please. Don't…" you begged, tears rolling down your cheeks.
“Shh, shh. It’ll be okay, doll,” Bucky murmured as he ushered Steve out of the way, moving around to crouch in front of you. He slowly wiped each tear away with his thumb, not allowing you to look away.
"You need to-" he put his finger to your lip before you could say anything else.
"Did you know meeting you made me feel again? I didn't even know I could. I tried. Nothing worked. But you showed up and I… I felt everything," he said in awe, tracing your lips with his fingertip. "I don't want to lose that. I'm not letting you go. I can't. But I meant what I said. I'll be good to you. All you have to do is love me.”
There was so much hope in his eyes. No one ever looked at you that way. Like you were a treasure. Something to behold. It frightened you.
"I…" your words died in your throat as he slid his hand to your chest, your heart thudding faster and faster.
"Just. Love. Me."
“...You really won’t hurt my family or friends if I'm good?”
“Nothing will happen,” Bucky swore, making a cross sign over his heart.
"You have our word," Steve added, his tone sincere. You almost forgot he was there. Almost.
"Can you do that?" Bucky pressed, almost desperately. "Love me? Be my perfect doll?"
You blinked the last of the tears away. Crying wouldn't help. Just like they wouldn't help. They were supposed to be heroes, but they were wolves in sheep's clothing.
“Okay. I'll be good. And… I'll learn to love you, Bucky,” you spoke, putting the right amount of softness into your tone so it didn't seem fake. He looked over the moon as you said his name, leaning in for a deep kiss. Swallowing your cry of protest, you let his tongue take over your mouth. You already felt consumed by him. You just had to bide your time. Somehow, you’d get free.
“See? Now was that so difficult?” Steve questioned, moving you back to the table once Bucky stood up. “We want to trust you, but we still need to be cautious. Buck will feed you until we know you won’t try to use the silverware on us.”
You merely nodded like a puppet in response.
"And when we know you can behave, you two can get the wedding date set," Steve smiled as he handed one of the glasses to his friend. "I still can't believe you asked me to be your best man."
"You're my best friend, punk, and I want to have the perfect wedding," Bucky smiled back, gazing at you as he sat back down. "I already have the perfect bride."
"Yes, you do. And she’ll keep being perfect for you," Steve's smile widened into something sinister as a glass was brought to your lips. It was as if your fate was sealed. "Won't you?"
The champagne wasn't strong enough to burn your throat, but the numbness took over quickly. "Yes."
"I'm happy to hear that, doll," Bucky said as he brought his mouth to your ear, his next words making your blood run cold. "Because I'm ready to skip to the honeymoon."
I always think of I Don't Want To Miss A Thing when I read biker Bucky
I haven't listened to Aerosmith in forever!!!
Bucky underneath the tattoos, muscles and leather kutte is a softie. Not that anyone would believe you.
Those hands decorated with battle scars, drunken brawls and 3am tattoos sessions are gentle whenever they touch you.
Lips that twist into one of the most intimidating sneers you've ever seen are soft against your neck when he holds you close. He likes to drag them up, up, up until he connects with your lips. Soft, chapped and cherry flavored with a hint of whiskey on his tongue.
Now he has you right where he wants you. Writhing on his favorite leather jacket, (your smell is going to linger for days, reminding him of sweet you are) with only him and the stars witnessing how gorgeous you look when you cum apart for him.
His eyes, hooded and dark- passionate, wanting and needy for you are gazing down at you taking in every sigh and moan he's pulling out of you. His cock languidly stroking in your tight wet heat desperate for one more from you.
Loving how your gripping him so tightly, not wanting to let him go.
He loves you too much. And when you do cum apart, trembling from the pleasure surging through every nerve, he cant stop watching you. So beautiful, so perfect.
It's enough for now, a temporarily sating his overwhelming desire to make you scream his name, to make you cum so hard you can only whimper as he fucks you through your high.
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Description: You've gotten seriously hurt in battle, and don't have much time left. You and Bucky share last words in an alleyway. TW for major angst and character death.
Word Count: 879
A/N: Hi. I've had a horrible past few days. Just very bad mentally and emotionally. I wrote this as a way to get some things out, but I like the ending. I'm still open for requests.
Want to support or commission a personal fic from me? Check out my ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/starryeyedalien
You’re dying, and he can’t do anything about it.
As turmoil raged around you, you could only look up at his face. He was running with you in his arms, looking desperately for some place to put you down, someone to help you, anything.
Your chest hurts but his eyes hurt more. Focused but brimming with tears and refusing to look down at you. Blood is smeared on his cheekbone and you bring your hand up to his face to try and wipe it away.
“Please...this running hurts. I’m going to be sick.”
“You need help.”
“I need you to stop running. I’m going to die from nausea if you don’t set me down.”
He curses under his breath, darting into an alleyway to shield from the fray. He kneels and sets you on the ground gently, sitting you up against the wall. You smile at him weakly, but he doesn’t smile back.
“Bucky, stop looking at me like that.”
“Like you’re looking at a dead person.”
“I told you not to come into battle. And you did anyway. Now look at you.”
“Is now the time for I told you so’s?”
“Yes, because you can still hear me say them.”
He stops looking at your face for a moment to look down at your chest. You can see him physically wince, so you don’t look down yourself.
“Is it bad?”
“You got slashed by someone fifty times your size. I would hazard a maybe.”
You chuckle then groan in pain, and he quickly takes your face in one hand, holding it up so he can see you.
“Hey! Don’t do that, you’ll make it worse and then I can’t get you help if you make it worse.”
“You have to stay right here, and I’ll be back very soon.”
“Just stay here and keep breathing, you’ll be perfectly alright.” He’s gasping now, breathing heavy as he swiftly kisses your forehead, but you grab his wrist before he can run away.
“Please stay with me.”
“I can’t, you need help and I can’t just-”
“You can’t find anyone in time. Please, just stay with me.” You plead with as much energy as you can muster, looking into his eyes.
He’s crying now. Tears mixed with the blood have caused red streaks down his face, and his blue eyes are darker than usual.
“I can’t watch Star Wars alone.” He whispers, and you place your hand on his cheek and wipe away tears and blood again.
“It’s going to be ok, Buck. There’s plenty of Star Wars fans, you can watch with one of them.”
“But you make stupid puns, and put M&M’s in the popcorn.”
“Those are all very common things.”
“You fit perfectly under my arm. It feels normal when you’re there.”
“It’ll be alright, Bucky. Please.”
“I can’t watch you die.”
He kisses your forehead again, lingering and bringing himself as close as he can to you. One hand grips the back of your head, and his whole body is shaking.
You’ve never seen him like this before. Stoic, sarcastic Bucky is sobbing as quietly as he can and you can’t stop him.
You just touch him, rubbing his back and his hands and his face, whatever you can reach. He seems to lean into every caress, and darkness starts to creep into the edges of your vision.
He quickly leans back, tilting up your chin with his thumb and studying your face. He’s still a wreck, and you feel like if you had enough energy you would be crying along with him.
“None of this is your fault, Bucky.”
He shakes his head but you bring your hand to his, gripping it tightly.
“Absolutely none of it. I loved my time with you, Bucky.”
“We need to have more, we can have more. Just stay.” He’s choking back tears, and you shake your head.
“I loved it. And I love you, James. So much.”
“Please, just stay. I love you too much, please stay.” He’s not choking back anything anymore, letting everything go. You can feel his tears drop against your cheeks as he brings his lips to your forehead again. His chest is heaving.
“I love you. I’ll see you soon.” You murmur as the darkness takes over all your vision, and you feel yourself slowly lose your grip on both his hand and reality.
The sound of him crying is the last thing to go.
You wake up in his bed. You can tell by the smell, like the ash from a campfire.
There’s the sound of pen against paper somewhere around you, but you can’t tell where. Blinking your eyes open slowly as the dim light overloads your vision, you groan.
The pen stops and suddenly your hand is being gripped, and the blurry figure of Bucky is staring down at you.
“Hey, Buck. I miss anything?” You chuckle weakly. He half-heartedly chuckles back but then just kisses your forehead again, your hand being crushed in his vice grip. He presses his forehead against yours, and you can feel him shaking just as hard as the last time you were awake.
summary: In which Bucky can’t figure out why he feels so restless when everything is perfect in his life... until he does.
warnings: sex (18+), breeding kink!!! copious amounts of fluff and bucky being an adorable goofball
author’s note: ‘tis finally here!!! first fic on the new blog! also thought i’d do something new with formatting my fics! and once again, i couldn't help with keeping it short n sweet sorry! [wc: ~5k]
MASTERLIST | TAGLIST IS OPEN
Bucky doesn’t know what’s gotten into him lately.
There is this restlessness that keeps bugging him in the back of his mind. Sometimes it doesn’t let him focus on things. Mundane things, really. When he’s brewing the morning coffee. When he’s reading the paper. Or when he’s mindlessly scrolling through his phone.
He’s happy and it’s been years since he’s felt genuine happiness. He’s a free man, free to do what he wants. Free to talk, to walk, to wear whatever he wants. To eat whatever he wants. To feel whatever he wants. To love whoever he wants.
To love you enough and more to marry you and start his little family. He has all of this, he’s at peace. He gets to wake up every morning and is blessed to have the most gorgeous woman sleeping next to him. He gets to make a home with you, memories with you. Share your love for each other in your space, fill it with more love with things you love and care about.
And he has done that.
He’s a stable guy now, he’s got a wife and a home and the most adorable cat.
He can’t complain, he’s got no right to feel this restlessness. God knows, he doesn’t take a thing for granted in his life. Everything he has and everything he wants is right in the palm of his hands.
He should be happy. No, he is happy. He just wants to be… happier? Would it be completely selfish if he wants to be happier?
You’ve always told him, it’s a good colour on him. He’s gorgeous when he’s beaming and all smiles. Like a bright sunny day at the beach, warmth from the ocean water, warmth from the sun gently beating down.
You never fail to tell him that he has every right to be selfish, either. You love to spoil him rotten sometimes. Shower him with compliments, and constantly flirting with him – even though it’s been a whole year you’ve been married, been together for three years before that – not counting five years after the Blip.
Safe to say, he’s going to grow old with you. If science can help him do that, that is.
So why does he feel restless?
His question is answered one day in the most life-changing way.
The two of you were at the vet’s clinic, just a regular check-up for Alpine. She was seated in Bucky’s lap. He refused to get one of those pet carriers when the pet supply store owner urged him to buy one for Alpine. With the way she hissed at the cage, he could tell she didn’t like it.
While waiting for your chance, Bucky kept petting her back. Long, comforting strokes and soft scratches behind her ear, because she tends to get a little nervous during these visits.
The woman before you was called out. She was struggling with her newborn baby crying in the bassinet, and her dog whining – she looked helpless. While she tried to haul the bassinet and the dog to the doctor’s office – who refused to leave his spot because he didn’t want to go – you got up to help her.
“Let me help you, I can look after your baby while you’re inside.”
Much to her relief, the woman sighed. Your face is trustful enough, a kind smile on your lips.
“Thank you so much, sweetheart!” She said and handed you the bassinet. You told her it’s not a problem and she picked up the dog and went in.
When you came back, you left a seat to place the baby between you and Bucky. You look at your husband and the pure joy on your face lit up his heart. You picked up the baby. She wasn’t crying or throwing a fit, but she was just so adorable and you had to have her in your arms.
You cooed and called her all sweet names, talking to her in a different voice, a tiny one that made him smile on his own. He wondered what it would be like to watch you play with your baby like that.
That sudden thought answered his restlessness. The puzzle was finally completed.
It took him by surprise, though.
Does he want a baby with you? Yes, he’s pretty certain about that. One day he would want a little bundle of joy in his arms. Half like him, half like you.
But does he think he’s ready to be a father?
Are you ready to be a mother?
Yeah, those are the questions to which he doesn’t know the answers to.
But what he does know, is that he wants to have a baby. He just needs to know if you’re on the same page as him.
So Bucky… starts dropping hints.
They’re very subtle, considering he’s a 106-year-old, retired Avenger, determined to know your thoughts on having a baby.
The first one is when he brings home the mail after his daily walk around the block. You’re sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, eating a bowl of fresh watermelon, Alpine lazily draped next to you. Some movie plays in the background. Bucky, very subtly, drops a bunch of envelopes and magazines next to your feet and hands you the hydrangeas he brings you every day.
A sweet smile flashed his way when you smell the lovely flowers. Since you’re very comfortable in your position – and since Bucky doesn’t want to distract you from his plan – he offers to put the flowers in the vase for you.
“Stay here,” he gives your shoulder a little squeeze and takes the flowers from you. “I’ll put these in water.”
A mumbled thanks and you adjust yourself, your feet now under you. And something catches your eye. A parenting magazine lies under the heaps of bills. You shuffle them away with your fingers and grab the thick booklet.
“Mother & Baby,” you mumble, confusion lining your expressions.
All the while, Bucky is peeping at you. Standing at the sink in the kitchen island, the water in the vase is overflowing. He realises that when the cold water trickles down the vase and his hand.
“Shit,” he curses under his breath, closes the tap and throws the excess water. The flowers shoved inside the vase, eyes never leaving you. Licks his bottom lip as a nervous habit and wipes his wet hand on his jeans. Trying to seem busy and nonchalant as he blindly arranges the flowers.
“Bucky?” you call out, eyes never leaving the front cover of the magazine.
The vase nearly slips from his grip, he scrambles up to attention – very nonchalant – and hopes that his voice doesn’t squeak terribly when he answers, “Yes, baby?”
Baby. Did he have to call you that right now?
He could have called you anything, honey, angel, sweetheart. But no, he just had to call you baby.
“I think you got somebody else’s mail by mistake,” you said, placing the magazine back on the table. He walks over to you, “We don’t have a subscription for ‘Mother & Baby’. It might belong to that new couple who moved into 1C. I saw them with a stroller the other day.”
“Oh, huh…” he feigns a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh, I guess I didn’t notice. All the mail was just shoved into the box.” He scoffs as if it’s the mailman’s fault when it was Bucky who stole the magazine from the top of 1C’s box.
“Will you please give it to them?”
“Yeah, of course.” he shrugs and picks it up. Slips into his shoes and as soon as he’s out and shuts the door, he bangs his head on it lightly. “Barnes, you fucking moron.”
The next hint is when Bucky offers to babysit their new neighbours’ baby boy. It was weeks after that magazine debacle. In that time he’d earned the trust of his neighbours enough to let him babysit their kid while the new parents had a date night to themselves. It was a win-win situation. They were thankful and Bucky got a chance to execute his plan.
You were more than happy to help Bucky. In fact, you were elated. As soon as you were introduced to baby Will by your husband, you picked up the chubby kid and kept him with you the whole time. You only let Bucky have him when he needed a change of diaper and clothes for bedtime.
“I guess, I’ll have to do all the nasty work with our baby, too,” he mumbles, struggling to get Will’s clothes on after he finished powdering and diapering his cute little tushie.
“Yes, obviously. We all have our duties. I carry it for nine months and then you take care of it after that.” You shrugged, hands on your hips.
But what Bucky hung onto was the fact that you didn’t oppose the idea of having a baby.
That made him smile, it was a small one. Though it took everything in him to not turn it into a grin. He was happier than before.
Another hint was dropped soon after that, because for some reason you just couldn’t take a hint. And for some reason, Bucky couldn’t grow enough balls to ask you.
“Do you think babies are adorable?” he randomly asks.
Both of you, strolling hand in hand, in a park. Which was filled with new moms with their newborns and toddlers running around. Did he bring you out here on purpose? Yes, yes he did.
“Of course, they’re adorable,” you said, leaning into his warmth, curling your hand around his bicep.
“I like ‘em,” Bucky comments, watching two toddlers running towards each other to meet in a hug. His heart melts at the sight. But nonchalance is still his motto. He truly doesn’t want to scare you off. Although, you’re stuck with him. But that’s beside the point.
“You know what I like?” you ask, your tone low and a bit dangerous. A finger curling around the chain of his necklace where his wedding ring is looped in. Bucky has tried wearing it on his left hand, but it keeps slipping off. And he’s afraid of losing it. He hums in response, a slight furrow of curiosity between his brows. “The baby-making bit of it.”
He full-belly laughs at that. Head thrown back and eyes crinkling at the corners. “I couldn’t agree more, sweetheart.”
Laughter aside, Bucky came to his senses when he realised that both of you, in fact, need to go through the baby-making bit of it. Not that he didn’t think about it. He was just so preoccupied with the fact that he wants a child, the sex part had fused with excitement.
But every time you had sex, Bucky was incorrigible, horny, downright insatiable. It drove him insane that he would have to wear a condom for at least a few more days until he gets the courage to tell you what’s on his mind.
But the way he fucked you, he could tell something else would come over him. He felt like an animal in heat. He went hard and fast, was a bit sloppy at times, his cock would ache so much at the impulse control.
He swears, he could combust when he’d think about it. Think about not having to use that useless piece of rubber. Think about feeling your walls stretch around him. Think about nothing separating the two of you anymore. Think about filling you up, until he can’t anymore. Think about his baby growing inside your womb.
If he was being honest with himself, those thoughts were the only ones that helped his undoing every time you had sex.
So the fact that he was keeping it all inside his stupid little, fragile heart, didn’t help him.
God, why couldn’t he just tell you? You’re his wife, his other half, his soulmate. If he wants a baby, the two of you could start having the talk, at least get a headstart on the journey.
He’s pretty sure his emotions would burst out like an explosion. He’s taken back to the time when he was desperately and hopelessly in love with you, all those years back. When he met you in your restaurant, demanding the waiter to arrange a meeting with the chef because he wanted to give his compliments. You didn’t do that sort of thing at that time.
Now he thinks it would be a great meet-cute story to tell his kids. But how will he have them if he couldn’t tell you?
Just a few more days, and he’ll tell you. In those days Bucky conducts a little research. Google is his best option since he will not go to his friends to seek advice. Sam will only laugh in his face and Yori would start telling stories from his time – the old man could get a little explicit at times. Bucky could not live that nightmare again.
So in a world where people mostly searched, ‘My wife is pregnant, what do I do?’ Bucky searched things like, ‘How to get my wife pregnant?’, ‘How to get pregnant fast?’, ‘What are the best sex positions for assured pregnancy?’, stuff like that. He learnt about the ovulation cycle. Learned how to record menstrual cycle frequency. Like any good husband would do.
Not that you will, but if you were to get a whiff of his search history, he would be mortified.
He knows there’s a fifty-fifty chance that your opinions on this baby matter could clash. But having absolute knowledge about this stuff is always good, right?
Bucky groans at the thought. He hopes there are no clashes in opinions. He drops his phone on his chest, heaving a sigh. The sunlight streams through the white cotton blinds as the wind gently blows them away. It’s been ten minutes since he’s been up. You’re already out of bed, probably cooking something. It’s Sunday, you like to take your time to make a big breakfast.
He finally gets up, padding over to the bathroom, splashes water on his face to wake his sleepy eyes. He notices that they’re out of toothpaste. Sighing, he checks the cupboard to get a new tube. While he was at it, he also noticed the box of condoms, which they’re almost running out of, too.
“This is a sign, Barnes.” he preps himself, huffing, “Man up and tell your wife you want a baby.” he nods to his reflection and brushes his teeth.
Bucky follows the smell of fresh waffles and berries and coffee, sweet maple syrup. Bacon and scrambled eggs.
But what really brings out his hunger is the sight in front of him when he enters the kitchen. You, standing at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee, dressed in his black button-up. Looking otherworldly, as always in his clothes. Always a pretty sight, always sexy. Always his.
The outline of your chest accentuated by the light material of the cloth. It leaves nothing hidden to his imagination. And boy, it’s running wild. Sweatpants hanging low, he feels himself twitch underneath the worn-out fabric.
Like a siren, you pull him in, and once he standing behind you, he gives your waist a soft squeeze and your temple a loving kiss. Breathing in your sweet scent, combined with a hint of sweat and the activities that went down the night before. Hey, it was date night and you were wearing that particular dress he loves on you so much.
“G’morning,” Comes his sleep-tired greeting, thick with lack of use, but loving nonetheless. His mouth pressing on the area where your neck meets your shoulder, kissing languidly, running his tongue after he leaves a small nip.
Your reply comes in the form of a light giggle, the shoulder curling up against his honey kisses. “Morning… don’t tell me you haven’t had your fill yet?”
“With you?” More kisses to your neck, “Never.”
Soon his hands start to explore, pulling and squeezing wherever he finds soft skin. A little pinch your nipples, a harsh squeeze to your waist, deft fingers rubbing over your heat, slowly soaking your panties. You quiver, place the cup on the counter, afraid it will slip. His other hand massaging your relaxed shoulder. Lips as sweet as they are, keep pressing heated kisses along your neck and jaw.
“Bucky, we gotta at least get through breakfast… Please – oh,” A heavy sigh parts your lips when he nips at the pulse under the tender skin of your neck.
He can’t tell if you’re pleading him to go on or stop.
“Cheesy as it may sound, you are my breakfast, baby.” he cheekily says into your neck, hips pressed to your ass. His palm, large and callous runs under his shirt, pressing against your belly. That insane rush of electricity zipping down to his dick and he’s fully hard in seconds. Rutting against your ass once again.
The hand on your abdomen only seems to drive his brain towards the possibilities, and before he could gauge his words, he’s speaking, breath hot and clouding with lust when he says, “I wanna have a baby, honey.”
The way your body tensed before his own doesn’t go unnoticed by him. With a hand on your waist, he turns you around, cupping your cheek. Plush lips brushing against your own, reeling you into his touch.
“Let’s make a baby, sweetheart.” His voice is a husky drawl of a request.
And you’re astounded, “Bucky –”
“I know this is sudden for you.” he reasons, “But I’ve been thinking about it for a month now. And it’s killing me, not being able to tell you. We don’t need to do anything right now. I’m just –” he breathes hard, nose flaring, “God, the thought alone makes me so hard.”
A shuddered breath rattles out of your lungs, your bite your lip, but he pries it out with a gentle swipe of his thumb.
“Let me just fuck you right now. We can talk later. Just please, let me –”
“Okay,” you nod, fingers run through the short hair on his nape, the other hand fisting his shirt.
“Okay to what?” he stops to take a look at you, hand on your chin to make you look into his eyes.
“Let’s make a baby,” you kiss his lips once. But that just changes the entire course of this morning. A peck on his lips won’t cut it.
A sort of a growl leaves his lips, wetting his bottom lip, blunt nails holding you in a bruising grip as he turns you around once again. He rips your panties off your legs, using his foot to discard them once they reach your ankles. A nudge to your legs to part them and you brace yourself, a tight grip on the edge of the counter, anticipating his next move. Because, right now, you can tell he’s not the same Bucky anymore. Your affirmation on his request turned something entirely different in his brain – maybe he even short-circuited.
With a simple tug at the lapels of the shirt you’re wearing, he rips it open, the buttons falling on the granite countertops with a clattering sound. You’re bare before him in seconds, breathless before he even had a chance to touch you properly. A sweet whine parting from your lips when he squeezes your ass, his touch rougher than usual, spreads your cheeks and then –
“Oh, my God, Bucky –” he’s slipping his fingers inside you, collecting the wetness, holding your waist in a bruising grip. You roll your hips, trying to seek more of his touch. Your head feels heavy from the impact his words and his touch have on you.
You’re unbelievably wet, seeping down your thighs, down his fingers. Soaking him and still unable to stop yourself. His blood pumps a little harder in his chest, in his veins, breaths growing shallow with each passing of his fingers inside your tight, wet heat. Your legs start to shake after a particular thrust, unable to hold yourself up, crying out with tears burning behind your eyes.
You’re right there on the edge when his thumb stops circling and his fingers leave you empty.
“Why’d you stop?” you pant.
“I need to be inside you,” he groans, quickly taking off his shirt and sweatpants. His cock slaps wetly against his abdomen, twitching painfully when he touches himself. A few strokes, languid pulls that have his knees buckling, his hand joins next to yours on the counter and he lines himself along with your heat, “You sure you don’t wanna talk about this first?”
He can’t help but ask you, giving you an out before anything happens. He’s not sure why because he’s only wanted this for so long.
“Oh, Jesus – fuck, Bucky!” you pant, “Just fuck a baby into me already!”
The way he whimpers at your plea, desperate and frustrated, it’s hard not to comply with you, he slips right into you. He’s not met with much resistance, you’re impossibly wet and he’s sliding home in one long thrust. And the stunted breath that rags out of his mouth at the feeling of your walls clenching around his bare cock for the first time, it nearly sends him reeling.
Forehead on your shoulder, breathe hot on your back, Bucky holds off on fucking you right away. He can’t wrap his head around this feeling.
God, he needs a second.
“I can feel just how wet you are,” he whines, “Remind me, why did we ever use condoms?”
“The hell, if I knew,” you reply with a huffed chuckle.
“This has never felt so fuckin’ good,” he moans, starts moving, sliding out of you, leaving you almost empty before he’s rocking hard, back in. It’s enough to force the breath right out of your lungs.
“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about fucking you like this? With my bare cock inside you – Ah, shit.”
“Believe me, I have,” you’re surprised you could get the words out through your gasps.
This… new version of sex, where he can feel every soft glide of your walls, where you feel every smooth, hard ridge of his cock, drives you both insane.
Only makes him move faster, makes you spasm around him quicker. Your broken moans spur him on. He pulls you flat against his chest, his vibranium arm cool across your blazing torso, holding your body close to his as he picks up his pace.
It’s all primal. His instincts, animalistic. The only goal in his mind to fill you up full of him. His right hand travels down to your belly once again, feeling the outline of his cock moving inside you. Turns him on beyond his imagination. And he can’t wait to see you get round and big, to watch your breasts grow heavier, larger. He remembers reading they get sensitive, he wonders if you’ll come with just a touch of his hands, with just a swipe of his tongue when you reach that stage.
“Tell me you want this. Tell me once again,” he breathes out, fingers inch down to where he disappears inside you, again and again, collecting the wetness that trickles down your thighs only to help him circle your nub.
“I want this, Bucky. I wanna have your baby, oh please –” you writhe against him, push your ass back into his hips, your back arching away, cool vibranium fingers toy with your nipples.
“You have any idea the research I did for this?” he chuckles, helplessly, grinding into you, more so than thrusting, the tip of his cock brushing your sweet spot, deliciously, repeatedly once he finds that angel. “All the positions we could try out to get you pregnant? Just thinking of all the ways I could fuck a baby insida’ you. Drove me nuts, honey.”
“Bucky –” Your walls grip him tighter, and he almost stops.
“You’re close, aren’t you? Shit, squeezing me like a vice, sweetheart.” You nod and at this point, you’re wailing. The only way to muffle yourself is when you turn your head to a side, a hand at the back of his neck to guide him closer for a kiss. Your tongue laves at his, and he tries to keep up with his thrusts but they’re getting sloppy with the way you suck on his bottom lip.
A final push and a splurge of white-hot intensity distributes itself all over your body, starting from your belly, reaching up to your chest as it swells up, flushed. And he’s coming too, balls pulled up tightly, he grows painfully hard inside you right before he releases. Breath hot and heavy, sweaty chest shivering with the aftershocks.
“I wanna go again,” he says, panting, noses at the underside of your jaw. You turn around to face him, eyes wide, still trying to catch your breath.
“Really?” you croak out.
But he gives you that smirk, it turns your insides to mush, “What? Are you tired?”
“I’m not a super-soldier with an insane sex drive, baby. I might need a minute, though. I’m not sure if I can even hold myself up.” you huff out, resting your head on his shoulder, grateful for his arms around your body as it sags against his.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Bucky says before pulling out. He turns you around and picks you up before even a drop of his come can seep out of you. A yelp tumbling out of your lips as he hangs you over his left shoulder, your arms finding purchase on his body, though you know he’ll never drop you.
“Bucky! Put me down!” you squeal, all the blood rushing your brain for a second. His vibranium palm is secured around your legs, the other hand kneads your ass, as he walks down the hallway to your bedroom.
“Nope!” His answer is punctuated with a sharp spank on your ass.
He carefully settles you on the bed, body sinking into the soft mattress. You prop yourself on your elbows and watch him crawl up the bed on his knees. He stalks you like a predator, eyes hungry and dark, brimming with pure, unadulterated lust.
Your legs widen on their own, his hands rest on your knees as he settles between your thighs. That’s when you start to feel a sort of warmth trickle down your weeping cunt, but Bucky is quick to catch it.
“Not a chance in hell,” Two of his fingers gather the hot trail right before it soaks the sheets, he shakes his head, pushes it back where it came from. And oh, your head falls back, as a languid moan escapes your lips, you can’t help it. You can’t keep looking at the way he stares at you down there. Ready to devour you without a single breather.
He’s hard and sleek and glistening. Bottom lip trapped between his teeth, he curls his hand around the girth. Releases a shaky breath when his thumb grazes over the tip. He’s a throbbing, pathetic mess above you. Unable to control this insatiable appetite for sex that suddenly came over him. It’s surprising, but what else would you expect from a freaking super-soldier?
He slides himself between your folds, once, twice, a third time only to watch your writhe against the sheets. Hands caressing your curves, your breasts, tugging and squeezing. Legs somehow spreading wider.
“One more time and we’re done for today, yeah?” he asks, eyes finding yours, “I wanna try this one position I saw this morning.”
“Is that what got you all worked up?” you chuckle, “As long as you’re doing all the work.”
“Gladly,” he mumbles, and the slide is easy, and the moans that slip out of those plush pink lips, easier, softer. It’s so filthy – the wet, squelching sounds that now accompany your sweet love-making. Bucky leans down to be closer to you, a gentle hand cupping his scruffy cheek to guide him for a kiss as he sinks right in until there’s no room left.
Noses brushing, heads tilting, divulging for deeper kisses, wet and warm and sloppy as he begins to move. He’s gentle this time, threading your fingers through his own next to your wild hair laid out on the pillow. His wedding ring lands on your sternum, right above your beating heart.
The overwhelming feeling from before, the primal instinct that had taken over him had settled down… for now. He just wants to make love to you, in your bed, create life inside you, for both of you.
He’s desperate, light-headed from all the blood rushing south. Even though you’ve done this countless times, you’ve never seen him like this. It turns you on beyond your imagination. How his hunger turned into anguish. How he’s the one that has turned into a pleading, whimpering mess.
You kiss him until he eases into your touch, delicate fingers running all over his hot skin, over the ridges of the muscles on his back, smooth and rippling. Over his erratically beating heart that you help calm down a bit. Tongue seeking out his own, to make him focus on this one feeling at a time. And he kisses you back, for what feels like an eternity.
When the need for air arises, he pulls away but presses his forehead against yours. Breaths mingling, hot and damp. Then he adjusts himself, in a way where he’s slipping inside you even more. Your calves are brought to be placed on his sturdy shoulders, secured there by his arms bracketing the outside of your thighs. It’s a good stretch, comfortable in a way that makes you purr like a kitten.
And then he begins his move once again, hips undulating, rolling deliciously, lazily. The sweet symphony of your love-making soon fills the room. Both of you moaning, panting, the sounds softer than before. He kisses you some more, pouring all his love, all his affection into this simple act because he cannot express it any other way. This right here, your cocoon of love and warmth, desire and lust is all you want, all you need.
He whispers sweet nothings, he calls you sweet names, he tells you how he cannot wait to start a family with you. How completely and hopelessly in love with you he is, and how it’s the only thing that helps him get up every morning. You, your love, the warmth that your offer him.
His lips catch a tear the dares to roll down the side of your face, tasting the saltiness. Legs giving out, slipping down his shoulders but he doesn’t stop moving.
Not when you’re both so close, not when your hand travels down to claw at his back, grounding him into you, not when you’re grinding yourself against him, and definitely not when you beg him not to stop.
Your soft hand around his sweaty neck urges him to look into your eyes. And he’s helpless when you whisper, “Come inside me.”
“Jesus, sweetheart –” He feels that tingling at the base of his spine.
“I want it, please, Bucky.” God, you don’t have to plead. Chest rubbing against chest, sweat sticking and fusing your bodies as one, hearts beating as one. Toppling over together.
“Oh, fuck me,” he all but whimpers, hips stuttering to an abrupt halt as he spills into you.
He stills once it’s all over. Those glazed, coral blue eyes gazing over your features. Lips pressing over the delicate frown between your brows, to ease it, to calm you. More kisses follow, on your eyelids, on your cheekbones, down your jaw and neck, and your clavicle, and finally a lazy one to your lips. You brush away the dampened hair that fall on his forehead, kissing him just as fervently.
“I love you,” he beats you by a fraction of a second because you utter the same three words right after him. A bite of your lip to stop the laughter from pouring out. The dimpled smile you give him clutches at his heartstrings. His chest swells impossibly large and he’s never been more in love with you.
“I hope this works,” you mumble, your knuckles gently brush over the top of his cheekbone. Eyes on his, soft and loving.
“It will,” He assures you, with a sweet kiss placed over the golden band of your wedding ring.
“If it doesn’t, we have all the time in the world to try more.”
“Hmm,” He grins, “Let’s hope we can try all the positions before we get pregnant.”
“But we can get pregnant and still have sex in those positions.”
“No, I wanna see which one worked for us.”
You laugh, “Why does it matter?”
“You never ask a man why the position matters.” He states it as it is. A stern but playful pout on his lips.
“That makes no sense.”
“We’re just gonna have to agree to disagree, sweetheart.”
i hope you enjoyed reading! as always feedback is greatly appreciated! :)
Summary: There’s one rule you’ve set for each other in your relationship with Bucky. Always say I love you back to each other.
Word Count: 2.1
All Writings Masterlist
As always, any likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated (: I love that shit!
*gifs not mine
There is one rule in your relationship with Bucky Barnes.
Always say I love you back to each other no matter what.
Doesn’t matter if you both are fighting and hate each other in the moment. Doesn’t matter if one of you is having the worst day of your life. I love you made everything alright. It was a grounding phrase for both of you, letting you know you were always there for each other at any moment.
But this morning when you let out a lazy and soft ‘I love you’ half asleep to Bucky as he left your shared room, he didn’t utter it back to you with that half smile and a kiss on your forehead as he always did. He left with a small chuckle and shake of his head. Once he left the room, you sat up and narrowed your eyes at the closed door once you processed what had happened. Did he not hear you? He must’ve heard you- he has enhanced hearing so he should’ve heard you. He has never not said it back to you since the day you breathed out those three precious words to him so why this morning?
You shook your head for a moment, “It is sooo on, Barnes.” You said to the closed door.
And that is how the day of reckoning started.
You wouldn’t call yourself a vengeful person but you were the tiniest bit petty.
You got out of bed, pulling on some black shorts and one of your many tank tops before sneaking out of the room quiet as a mouse. You stood up in the glass window looking down at Bucky train with Sam, tilting your head with a wicked grin on your face. As Bucky moved to throw punch at Sam, you flicked your hand, causing Bucky to lose his balance and face plant onto the the mat which made Sam howl with laghter. You are a telekinetic and can move people and objects with your mind. Today was going to be fun- for you at least.
You kept yourself scarce, not wanting to be caught by Bucky this early in the day. Once he was done with training, you waited until you heard the shower turn on and him step in. You smiled and waited for a moment before, with a flick of your fingers to turn the dial for the temperature, the water in the shower turned ice cold against Bucky and you heard him let out a surprised yelp. You could hear Bucky trying to twist the warmth back on but you kept it in place on the coldest setting with your ability. After the shower shut off, you made yourself scarce again.
Next was breakfast. Bucky loved breakfast and always ate at least six eggs, four pieces of bacon, and a stack of pancakes. You stood around the corner of the kitchen, waiting until he was distracted to use your ability to turn the heat on the stove up, quickly burning his whole breakfast as you listened to him let out all the curse words in the dictionary about his burnt breakfast.
“Shit! Fucking god dammit!” Bucky yelled as he quickly tried to remove his pans from the stove but by the time he did his pancakes were burnt, his eggs were blackened, and his bacon was too crispy.
Sam, who was sitting at the table drinking coffee and eating his own breakfast, let out another howling laughter, “Good god, Buck!” He laughed out, “You’re just having a day, aren’t you?”
Bucky shot a glare over to Sam with a grumble under his breath before trying to figure out what of his meal he could salvage.
It didn’t stop there. Oh no. You had many plans to get back at Bucky for not saying I love you back. You could tell Bucky was trying to find you, probably to rant about his mishaps of the day, but you kept yourself hidden from his eyesight and earshot. It didn’t take long for Natasha to catch on with what you were doing. She found you watching Bucky from another room as he went through files in an office, flicking your fingers so a window opened causing the strong wind to blow all his papers around the room and disorganize him.
“So, it’s you being Bucky’s bad luck charm today.” Nat said, sneaking up behind you causing you to jump, folding her arms with a smile on her face, “What did he do?”
You looked at Natasha and shrug with a smile, “He broke a rule.” You said simply and walked away with Natasha to leave Bucky to clean up the mess you had made.
The one place Bucky thought he would be safe from the bad luck antics that happened to be targeting him today was the library. He was sadly mistaken though. He had been in the library hundreds of times and knew the layout perfectly that he could just grab a book and plop himself on the couch without having to look but his bad luck followed him. He grabbed a book from the shelf, starting to read as he walked towards the chair but ran into the coffee table that seemed to not be in its normal spot and tumbled over it, running into a bookshelf causing books to fall on top of him, “Okay. What the fuck is going on?!” He yelled to himself as he started to pick up the mess he made. He hadn’t walked under any ladders, opened an umbrella inside, or had any black cats cross his path so why in the hell was he having such bad luck today?
It wasn’t until later that Bucky was starting to put pieces of the puzzle together after an interaction with Steve. They stood in the elevator together, Bucky explaining all the bad luck he seemed to be having today, when the elevator suddenly came to a stop between floors causing Bucky to let out a groan, “You’ve gotta be shitting me. See, bad luck.”
Steve looked confused at the buttons on the elevator- everything seemed to be running normal, “FRIDAY, why did the elevator stop?” He asks.
“Functions are normal. No known cause. It seems like someone has stopped the elevator.” The AI responded.
Steve looked over at Bucky, “Is it bad luck or did you piss someone off?”
Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusion, “I haven’t pissed off anybody today. Shocker, I know.” He grumbled out.
Steve folded his arms, turning his body to face Bucky with his eyebrows raised, “So you just think that slipping during sparing without any water on the floor just happened? Or that somehow the burner on the stove turned up? The locked window just happened to open when you were in the room looking through files? That the shower was stuck on cold for no reason? That the table in the library just happened to move suddenly or that the elevator stops working when all functions are normal?”
Bucky stared at Steve as if trying to read his mind before tilting his head back to look at the ceiling of the elevator as realization came across his features, “Y/N.”
Steve nodded slowly, “You did something to make her mad and she’s been using her ability all day to mess with you.”
Bucky groaned at the thought, running the events of this morning through his head to try and figure out what happened to make you upset, “I didn’t do anything though. I even let her sleep in.”
Steve sighs, “Better figure it out before she decides what other bad luck you’re going to run into today.”
After the elevator finally started to move again, Bucky was on a mission to find you. He eventually did find you outside by the pool with Natasha. You two were laughing as you dipped your legs in the pool.
“Here comes Barnes with a sour look on his face.” Nat said softly, nudging your shoulder with hers, “I think he’s onto you.”
You smiled, hearing him approach behind you with heavy feet. Just when he was close enough to touch you, you tapped your fingers on the pavement making him lose his balance and trip right into the pool which earned a laugh from both you and Natasha. You smiled and waved your fingers to him as he surfaced from the water, shooting a glare right at you. You knew that look- You were in deep trouble with him. You quickly stood up and raced back into the facility before he could pull you into the pool with him.
Natasha raised an eyebrow at Bucky as he got out of the pool, his clothes and hair dripping water onto the concrete, “Two left feet today, Barnes?” She asks with a knowing grin.
Bucky glared at her, “Shut up, Nat.” He growled out before stomping his way into the facility after you. It didn’t take him long to find you, grabbing your arm and dragging you back to your shared bedroom where he pushed you up against the wall with his wet body, pinning you in place, “Why are you fucking with me today?” He questioned, a stern look on his face with anger in his eyes.
You smiled up to him cockily, batting your eyes innocently, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetness.”
“Don’t ‘sweetness’ me, doll.” Bucky growls out, staring into your eyes, “Why are you in a mood with me today? Did you just wake up and decide it would be fun to mess with me?”
You tilt your head at him, “Oh no, I decided to mess with you after I woke up. I had no intention of doing anything until after you left the room with that cute little chuckle.”
Bucky narrows his eyes at you, trying to figure out what he could’ve done to make you put him through an embarrassing hell today, “I haven’t done anything to make you mad that I remember.” He told you, keeping you pinned in place, “So help me out, sweetheart.”
You pouted your bottom lip out to him which made his eyes flicker to your lips with that look in his eyes that made you know he wanted to kiss it away, “You don’t remember?” You ask, “You broke our rule.”
Bucky stared at you for a minute before shaking his head with a grin and stepping away from you. He ran his hand through his wet hair as his chuckle turned into a loud laugh at your words.
You frowned at his reaction. This wasn’t funny. He broke the rule you two vowed to each other never to break. To say I love you back to each other no matter what, “It’s not funny, Bucky!” You said to him, placing your hands on your hips.
“Oh it’s not funny.” Bucky replied through his laughter still, “It’s fuckin’ hilarious!”
You crossed the room to push him for laughing at you but he caught your wrists and looks down at you with a grin and his blue eyes shining, “I’m so glad your amused with how you hurt my feelings.” You hiss out at him.
Bucky grinned down at you, “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not amused that you think I hurt your feelings.” He said down to you, “I’m amused because you didn’t say I love you. You said I love waffles.”
Your jaw dropped a little bit, “No I didn’t! I said I love you!” You defended. Did you? Did you say I love you or did you say I love waffles? You were half asleep and couldn’t really remember but you were sure you said I love you.
“Yes you did, darlin’.”
“No, I didn’t, Bucky.”
Bucky shook his head at you with a dark chuckle and the same grin, moving his hands from your wrist to around your waist, “Yes. You. Did. I have super hearing. You definitely said ‘I love waffles’ which made me laugh. If you said ‘I love you’, I would’ve said it back like I promised I always would.” He told you, moving his face closer until you could feel his warm, minty breath against your face causing shivers up your spine which he immediately noticed, “I love you. Now, say it back.”
You let out a small huff in defeat. Bucky wouldn’t lie to you just save his own ass, “Fine. I’m sorry. I love you too.” You muttered out, “But I do love waffles.”
Bucky chuckles and pulls your waist closer to his, “I know, doll.” He whispers to you before kissing your forehead, down the side of your face to your nose then along your jaw before finally pressing his lips to yours. He pulled away too soon from your lips, stroking his mental figures across your cheek with a dark look in his eyes and a matching grin, “Now I’m gonna have to figure out how to get back at you for all the embarrassment you put me through today.”
So um I was wondering like how do you feel writing about a dom reader like she tries to dom the boys or rather boy 😏 but gets railed so good instead
I am not pressuring you or anything just wanted to know about it thoughts or rather t*ots !!
Anyway love your fics
Hey nonnie! (We have to start doing symbols for yall).
I feel a lot of things about a reader trying to dom Beefy Biker Bucky. I need to do a true dom reader someday.
18+ below the cut
Out of nowhere, he said you could be in charge tonight.
And you almost came right then and there when he laid down and placed his hands above his head. His enormous body taking up most of the bed.
Stretched out over your sheets like a real life Adonis, so thick and muscular. His darkening blue eyes daring you to get on top.
You're not one to back down from a challenge.
Ugh to be riding him and he's resting his large rough hands on your hips. You're using him as your personal fuck toy. Over and over again.
You're feeling incredible, just taking every fucking inch inside of you. He feels so damn good and he's telling that you're his good girl, that you're so tight around him
Then you get a little to caught up.
He did say you are in charge.
So you lean forward, hips circling just right so he hits that spot that makes your toes curl.
And you slide your hands up his muscular arms until you lace your fingers between his.
Your breasts swaying in front of his face, he flicks his tongue over a hardened nipple and the feeling shoots right to your cunt.
"No." You say firmly, keeping a grip on your senses.
Bucky tilts his bearded chin up so that he can look into your eyes. "No."
"Didn't say you could touch." You sass.
Bucky loves to let you think you're in control. But that only lasts so long.
You pin his hands down, missing the growing storm in his lust blown pupils. You order him to say who's making him feel so good. Bucky runs his tongue over his lower lip, his dark chuckle making your hips falter.
"I dunno sweetheart." He says, voice deepening to a near growl. His hands dig into your waist stopping you, lifting you off his thick cock.
"You tell me." He bends his knees and he winks up at you. Thrusting into your tight cunt so fast and deep, your head falls back, a shrill moan spilling from your parted lips. And he's ruthless. Absolutely fucking ruthlessly pounding up into you so good all you can do is hold onto his wrists and scream his name.
He hasn't even broken a sweat but you. You're a fucked out, cock drunk wreck whimpering for him to don't stop, please right there, it's yours Bucky, yes, yes im your good girl please let me cum, please I'll be so good.
The BET fic
Bucky-the cocky bastard- has never lost a game of pool. Not once since he was a teen. He's very good with his hands and know exactly how to use them
He decides to challenge you to a little game. Winner gets to full control of the lower for the entire weekend. "That means you fo whatever I tell you, Gorgeous." He practically moaned in your ear, his large body pressed into your back, his hand moving up your belly.
You can feel how excited he's getting and fuck you're getting soaked. Being at Bucky Barnes mercy for a whole 48 hours. Yes please.
But then your bestie brings up a good point. "What if he had to do what you told him too?" Natasha tosses out, bringing her drink to her lips. Hiding her smirk from a glowering Bucky.
Yeah you decided that sounds much better.
So much better.
Thots of him on his knees, hands behind his back as you make him eat your pussy. Making him fuck on the hood of car but not letting him cum until you say so. Having him beg you.
So. Much. Better.
You know you're going to have to cheat. And you do.
You distract the six foot horny biker by bending over the pool table, letting your shorts ride up. Brushing his crotch with your ass whenever you walk past him. By the time he lines up his final shot, you're ahead and if he misses you win.
His nostrils are flaring as he tries to concentrate, the pool stick bending in his grip. He lines up the shot, all he needs is to sink the yellow ball and you're his.
He pulls his arm back. He starts to move forward. "Bucky." you moan softly, his eyes flit over to you and you stroke your pool stick, rubbing your thumb over the end of it. He stumbles, his pool stick flailing wildly over the table, missing the shot. "Good luck." You finish with a wide grin.
Bucky tosses it down and stomps over to you, grasping your chin between his fingers. He leans down, his eyes promising to punish you for this. God you want him to him. Punish me Bucky.
"You win gorgeous." He lowers his lips to yours, his warm breath washing over you. "Lets see if you can handle me."
Summary: Natasha, your mommy, wants to bring Bucky as your daddy into your relationship but you don’t want that. Is that the end of the topic?
Warnings: soft!dark!Natasha, soft!dark!Bucky, MDlg/DDlg dynamics, forced age regression, abduction
Word count: about 1600
A/N: So, @nsfwsebbie holds a “Fuck Fest Friday” on, you guessed it, Fridays and one anon sent in something about mommy!Nat and daddy!Bucky and I had thoughts about it, so I wrote something. The graphics are made by @firefly-graphics
You had met Natasha first. Although it wasn’t her to introduce to the caregiver/little lifestyle, she was the first one you could actually live out that lifestyle with. It started out like it should start out among adult people. You talked about what you needed. What she wanted. What you wanted. What she needed.
You had agreed on title and nickname (she was “mommy” and you were anything from “little girl” to “baby girl” to “cupcake”). She had wanted to know if you knew your little age. You didn’t and so you agreed to just roll with anything from 1 - 10 until you knew more.
You had talked must haves and hard limits, which for you included you needing the options for therapy spankings and Natasha, mommy, had agreed under the condition that you had to ask for them yourself. Your hard limits were things like toilet stuff, forced age regression and diapers or pull-ups.
While mommy didn’t directly control your clothing choices, she gave you limited choices when you were alone and you sought her approval. Still, especially when you went somewhere with friends or friends came to visit at your appartement, you only wore something little discreetly that couldn’t be seen.
That’s why you were surprised, when you thought you’d spend a day in with mommy and wore a body with unicorns, a pastel-colored mini skirt and thigh high white socks, and the doorbell rang and mommy went to answer it, seemingly without regard to you not being in “normal” clothes.
She came back with Bucky.
“Look who’s here!”
“Natasha what the hell?!”
It would’ve been one thing for friends to come over unannounced or with a short time period of warning, but neither was the case and Natasha didn’t even seem confused of who it could be, it seemed like she not only knew who it was, it seemed like she had planned this and especially had planned for you to be more or less close to little space. And even if you hadn’t been, your clothing was not what you considered fitting for meeting people who didn’t know of your lifestyle.
Did Bucky know about it? And if so, why didn’t Natasha tell you about telling Bucky? Why had she put you on the spot like that?
“Let me explain, okay?”
She went to the couch and sat down next to you. Bucky sat down on your other side.
“Natasha what is happening? What do you want to explain?”
“Bucky has been in search of a little girl for quite some time. He and I have been talking about the lifestyle in general and he’s been picking up on the small signs between you and me. Like me ordering for you, how I’m always touching you.”
“And he wants to become your daddy. He fell in love with you. No surprise there” Natasha smiled.
“And you’re okay with that? You’re actually considering that?” You asked incredulous.
“I’m not agreeing to this! No way! Not if you had breached this topic with me before but there’s no way this is going to happen! Never!”
“Okay. Thanks for trying at least, Nat” Bucky said something for the first time and got up.
“I’m sorry. I’ll walk you out.”
That evening, you ate in tense silence and went to bed. The next morning, you greeted her with “Mommy” again. You didn’t talk about what had happened and forgot about it during the next weeks. Bucky behaved like he always had with you when you met up with others.
You and mommy had spent a nice day in the park and now you laid in bed, having slow, lazy, drunk and giggly sex. Mommy had not only allowed you some wine, she had allowed you that expensive wine. Smooth, like velvet, smelling like sin and tasting like heaven. Afterwards, you fell asleep in each other’s arms.
You woke up alone. That wasn’t unusual, especially after such a night. It had become a habit of mommy bringing you chocolate chip pancakes. But there was one thing that confused you. The bed sheets were unfamiliar and the curtains as well.
You weren’t at home.
You had to get out of here somehow.
You tried the door.
It opened and you walked out to see you were on the top story of a two-story house. You looked over the railing to see an open plan living room with a dining corner and a kitchen.
You tiptoed down and there, you looked for the door. You found it and tried the door handle. It didn’t budge, no matter what you did. You looked around, see if there was something you could use to try and break through the door. Your eyes fell to the umbrella stand. You used all the strength you could muster to hit the door. Nothing happened, except for some sound ringing through the room.
“Try the keypad” That was Bucky. Bucky was here? Why?
It was a keypad for the right hand. You pressed yours to it. It beeped and flashed red.
Bucky took a few steps to stand next to you. He pressed his hand to the keypad and it flashed green. The door opened halfway. You made to dash out. Only to be stopped by a metal hand on your tummy.
“Just so you know who calls the shots here.”
“First step done?” Natasha stood on the stairway in a robe and wet hair.
“Well then, let’s talk.”
Bucky pushed you into the direction of the couches and didn’t let up until you sat in between him and Natasha.
“So, cupcake. I’m guessing you have questions” Natasha took your hands in hers.
“I told you weeks ago. Remember when daddy came over?”
“Daddy?!” That one word threw you off course.
“Yes. This’ll just be like it’s always been between you and me. Just adding daddy, his additional love and care to the mix.”
“And you didn’t think to talk to me about all this before? Remember when we first met and we talked about everything we wanted and needed from our dynamic? Like normal people?” With each word your desperation to make sense of this situation became more visible.
“Now, don’t talk to mommy like that” Bucky’s voice could have been calming, had this situation been different.
“Exactly. Tell me one of the basic principles of our relationship, cupcake.”
You crossed your arms in front of you. “Like hell I will.”
Natasha sighed. “Then I will. ‘Mommy knows best.’ From now on, it’ll just be ‘Mommy and daddy know best.’”
Bucky laid his hand on your knee. “It’ll all be easier if you do what we say, little girl.”
“Like hell I will!”
You jumped up but before you could take one step anywhere, Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in the direction of the stairs. You squirmed, tried to kick, tried to hit but nothing helped. Bucky just pulled you up the stairs and into the room with the bed you had woken up in.
He put you down as softly as he could while you struggled. You frantically tried to scoot back but before your brain registered what had happened, you felt Bucky’s hand wrapped around your throat.
He rubbed his thumb along your neck, looking down at you with regret in his eyes.
“You’re forcing me to do this. I don’t relish this.”
He squeezed down on your arteries on the sides of your neck until your eyelids fluttered and everything went black.
When you woke up, it seemed to be dark out. No sliver of light came from under the curtains.
“You’re awake again.” Natasha sat in an arm chair across from the bed.
You didn’t answer, you were busy trying to figure out what exactly you felt on your butt, belly and hips. It seemed to be some kind of shorts.
“Natasha? What am I wearing?”
She didn’t answer. She only looked at you and raised an eyebrow.
“Natasha?” Still, nothing.
You grumbled. “Mommy?”
“Yes, baby girl?”
“What am I wearing?”
“A onesie and a pull-up.”
“Come now, let’s go to the living room. It’s time for dinner.”
Natasha made you sit up and pushed you to the door. Despite how heavy you made yourself, she still pushed onward and that resulted in you stumbling down the stairs and basically falling into Bucky’s arms.
“Well, would you look at what I caught!” He cooed and smiled at you. You made it a point to not look at him.
Together, Bucky and Natasha pushed you to the couches and sat down with you in their middle.
“How about a bottle? It’s got your favorite fruits mixed with cocoa and milk! That sounds yummy, doesn’t it?”
You didn’t answer.
“Little one, you’re making it more difficult for yourself than it has to be.”
You still didn’t answer and pressed your lips together.
Bucky shrugged his shoulders and pulled you into his lap. He supported your back with his right arm and tried to push the teat of the bottle into your mouth while you kicked your legs and shook your head. Natasha took your legs in a vice grip with her left arm and suddenly clamped your nose shut, until you opened your mouth, desperate for air. Bucky took that opportunity and forced the teat in.
Natasha looked at Bucky: “This is gonna be difficult.”
“It’s on you how difficult, though” Bucky looked down at you.
“And in the end, it’ll be worth it. We told you. Mommy and daddy know best.”
Natasha smiled at you like she had when you two had agreed to enter this particular lifestyle.
chapter eight • a/n: someone said 'give rosie a sibling' first of all, y'all don't understand how badly i wanted to write and incorporate it into this fic but never did cause unsure about it, second of all; fuck yes.🥺 also not very sure about this though :') • wordcount: 2.1k• warnings: pregnancy, babies the whole damn shebang. nervous buck. Just some fluff.
going through rough years after losing your husband, you try to raise your daughter the best you can. With the help from the wilson's you make the best of it but the road is bumpy when sam introduces you to his friend.
tag yourself here
masterlist - chapter seven - chapter nine
"Maybe, just maybe you should see a doctor."
Bucky watched the screen of his laptop closely, you're color drained skin and tired eyes looking at something out of sight. Your hair in a messy bun, dressed in the most comfortable pyjamas– sick like you were two weeks ago when bucky waves you and rosie goodbye, send off to Louisiana. Your eyes flicker back to your camera and smile a tired smile.
"You've been sick for nearly two weeks, babe-" bucky whines softly "you need to get that checked."
You shake your head, gazing back to whatever was behind your phone "I know what it is– at least I think I know what it is."
"You can't trust the internet." Bucky states back, a grin on his face when you visibly and dramatically roll your eyes.
"It's not that," you groan, "I've felt like this before."
The video wobbles as you move around, huff and puff tiredly. Bucky knits his brows together in confusion and with a sigh, you sit back on your couch and appear back on screen.
"I'm not sure what you're talking about." Bucky mumbles confused.
Blowing a loose strand of hair out of your face "I felt the same with rosie– tired, nauseous, moody," you list, holding up a box real quick "I think I'm pregnant."
It had become a topic for every pillow talk, slowly seeping into the daily conversations; your lives were strange, relationship far from normal. Jumping from one chapter to a new one fast- though you're sure there's people going through fast lane faster than you- Friends frowned upon it– a mutual decision, absolutely sure of the two of you, a future; bucky would make one hell of a father and a mini barnes was more than welcome. The pill was long forgotten and nights of trying, yet you never expected it to happen so fast, after all it took more than two years to conceive rosie. Hell, you still had to move to Brooklyn.
Bucky blinks rapidly and clears his throat while stumbling over his words "you- what, are you sure?"
"Well, no but yes-" you chuckle and hold the box up once again, a test "i haven't done one yet, wanted to wait for you."
"Yeah, you okay with that?" You ask unsure
"Yeah- no, yes..absolutely," bucky breathes out a laugh.
With big eyes he watches you through the screen as you try to unbox the package but fail at each attempt. With another groan, you stand up straight.
"Wait," you mumble almost inaudibly "obviously haven't done these in a while so I'll have to read it."
Bucky stays quiet, eyes glued onto the screen as you walk around your apartment– he knows the way. Living room, dinner, kitchen, the hallway where you peek through the crack of your daughters- his stepdaughter's bedroom door before taking a few more steps, door to the bathroom opening, the light brightening your surroundings. You hum a quiet melody, a curse after as he's met with a white surface and with some noise you're back in frame, closely before pulling away– you're seated on the edge of the bathroom, unboxing the package successfully this time.
"If we are, you got the good stuff– all those rounds were supposed to be practice."
Bucky laughs and throws his head back and looks back to his screen "what can I say? I don't half ass things, besides I'm not getting any younger."
You snort "well, good thing you got yourself a pretty young thing then."
Oh yes, fucking lucky bucky thinks to himself but laughs again.
It's quiet again, the package thrown on the ground next to you, the plastic stick laid on your lap and instructions in your hand, your eyes scan the paper.
Bucky waits in anticipation; mind racing miles per hour- thoughts of a mini him floating through his head. A picture of his little family with you, he paints a little him in it. he's thought about it for years, how and when but never finding the one; bucky feels honoured to have you as the mother of his child. The thought of rosie being a big sister and you glowing and growing his child- made with love, in a crazy little family.
"Okay-" your voice snaps him out of his own thoughts "Let's do this."
"Yeah– so, how?"
"Barnes, you never seen a movie?" You chuckle "never seen or heard about a pregnancy test?"
"Yes, no- i don't know, it never really caught my attention." Bucky confesses.
"Well, for starters, I have to pee on it." You explain, ready to follow up but bucky cuts you short.
"No, next week." You say, sarcasm dripping from your face "don't give me that look."
"No, I'm not." Bucky defends, fully unaware of his facial expressions- he frowns in confusion
"Good because I've seen worse with that daughter of ours."
Daughter of ours. Daughter. God, he'll never get used to that.
"Be right back."
You disappear out of sight. Staring right at the tiled bathroom wall, the colorful shower curtain and bath toys, bucky waits once again but a smile breaks out on his face at the small voice coming through his speakers– a mop of hair coming peeking above the sink the and mumbled words, an conversation between the two of you he can't understand.
You lay the test that was in your hands minutes ago on the sink and take a look at your watch and sit down on the bathtub again, pulling your half asleep daughter on your lap. A pattern of a pillow running down her warm cheeks. Pyjamas disheveled, wrapped around her body. Her stuffed elephant held tight in her arms. She sleepily waves at the man on your phone screen.
"Hey doll." Bucky's voice is soft but loud enough for the girl to hear.
"Are you coming to my birthday?"
The both of you chuckle at the random question but bucky nods his head "of course I am."
Another quiet pause follows in which rosie steals the show with tires, silly performances with toby the elephant- though, half asleep, she's killing it without saying a single word.
Bucky's heart skips a beat when he sees you move once again, hand reaching for the test- he holds his breath. Seconds feeling like hours. You sit back again, inspect the test carefully before looking up.
"Hope you're ready to sacrifice your man cave for a nursery."
Bucky breathes out with a gasp for air, eyes squinting at his screen when you show the test better.
"Sure explains the moodswings," you chuckle "It says we are."
The first plane ticket he could get his hands on and jumped in the first taxi that stopped- nearly knocking over the elderly couple pushing their baggage to that taxi- a dick move but no way in hell was he going to miss any other second if possible.
Bucky never bounced up the flight of stairs to the floor of your apartment and in a haze back home, forgot the keys- still in that damned bowl on the counter; knocking three, four times and met by a surprised you standing in the doorway, and god he's sure he's never hugged anyone that tight.
He's going to be here for his kid, he's seen enough men cower away from their responsibilities- scampering away if it weren't their fault and though bucky never really thought about having his own at that time, he couldn't wrap his mind around it.
He's going to be here for you, for every up and down. Guide you through morning sicknesses, mood swings and all the sleepless nights- he's read the articles online the moment you guys found out- do the heavy things, relieve you from any stress; it's bad for the baby. Massage back, legs and ankles if he needs, wants to watch you care for his unborn child, make it grow. He wants to be there for you because for once in his life, he wants to settle.
He wants to be here for rosie. The big sister. The changes it will give her. Prepare her for what's to come, let her be the best damn sister- be the best damn father to both.
He's ready for the next chapter of his life..with you, with Rosie and this little one.
And yet his leg is bouncing up and down nervously, heel of his boot thudding against the white linoleum floor of the obstetricians office; reading the pamphlet in his hand but he can't quite focus on it. The clock hanging above the door ticking and the receptionist typing away on her keyboard and the talking of a couple a few seats away distracting him.
You've been here before, been through all of this before with Rosie but the only difference being the father. The only difference being the signs and symptoms from carrying rosie; less nauseous, more fatigued and worse emotional mood changes but you could only imagine how better this pregnancy would turn out than Rosie's tough one.
Bucky stills the tapping on his feet when he feels your hand rest on his knee and looks aside to be welcomed by your warm, reassuring yet tires smile; he leans back in his chair and tries to relax as he intertwines his fingers with yours.
"How far do you think you are?"
"I don't know," you near whisper "they say you grow faster with your second one."
bucky nods, he's read that too..somewhere– he knows your body, every curve, every scar, every freckle; he knows your body like the back of his hands so his head started spinning and butterflies forming in his stomach when he noticed the smallest of bumps.
"Can you relax, you're actually going to make me nervous." You chuckle softly and squeeze his hand.
"Yeah, sorry." Bucky clears his throat, fighting the urge to bounce his leg again.
Ready to ask another question, he's stopped by a lady dressed in a white coat, auburn hair pinned up and thick black glasses atop her nose and a clipboard in her hands.
Bucky feels the need to hold your hand tighter, not ready to let go as you stand up straight- he follows your action and does the same. Hot on your tail but let's go when you shake the woman's hand– you know her, he doesn't.
"Dr. Zwartz," she smiles at him while holding out her hand, bucky takes it.
"Bucky." He clears his throat once again "bucky barnes."
"Take a seat."
The room smells steril; walls white and floor the same as in the waiting room. Not much special about it apart from the expensive equipment- surprisingly calming.
Bucky sits down next to you on the comfortable chair and eyes the doctor as he makes her way around the desk and sits down, smiles at the both of you before diving her nose into the computer in front of her.
It goes by in a blur, bucky isn't sure he'll remember all of this in this conversation. Answering questions he doesn't hear nor understand, overwhelmed by all of it– thank god you're here but he doesn't even notice you and the doctor standing up.
"Dad is welcome to watch," the doctor her voice snaps him back into reality.
Looking around him real quick, he notices you standing near the examination table; he stands up.
"First time?" The doctor smiles sweetly.
Bucky breathes out nervously "yeah."
"Well, good thing you have this woman by your side." Stretching her arm out the doctor leads him into your direction "take a seat."
Bucky does, the chair next to the examination table less comfortable than the one he just left. Watches you and the doctor closely while fiddling with his fingers.
Laying down on the table, you push the waistband of your jeans down and your shirt up, the doctor setting up the machine and all else dangling from is- god knows what it all is and means but bucky really doesn't care about that- the quick warning 'this might be cold' and the soft hiss coming from beside him- it's all a big blur. Something happening in the far distance, voices muffled.
How crazy could life be and how crazy is it going to get, is this all even real?
The warm hand intertwining with his and the light squeeze once again bursts his little bubble, bucky looks up- sight and hearing becoming less of blur as he follows your gaze and right there on the small screen not far away from him, in black and white, the tiniest of baby squirming around, a steady heartbeat thumping in his ears.