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hesitate9 · 2 years

Note

Hi!

I love your work

What about Bucky x reader but the Avengers don't like her and one day he overhears them talking shit to her.

Don't. Just Dont.

Summary: Bucky finally moved on from all the trauma and started dating after a few failed attempts he meets you what happens when the Avengers don’t like you and say bad things to your face.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Language, car accident, bit of violence, Flashbacks are in your POV, this is my first request so I hope I’ve done you justice.

Bucky Barnes has gone through a lot, World War II, getting kidnapped by H.Y.D.R.A, joining the Howling Commandoes, falling to his almost death from the train, becoming The Winter Soldier. The man has gone through hell and back and now after all this time he feels like he deserves some from happiness so he started dating. It took him some time to go back to his old 40’s Bucky persona when it came to impressing girls. Some girls he dated were rude and used him for instance

Anna James a blonde girl with blue eyes, red lips. She was a mean girl. Her face caked with make up thinking she is better than anybody and a total gold digger. She never once helped him with his nightmares and just used him for his money and his fames.

Denise Richardson a brunette with blue eyes and pink lips. She was the worst. She was all sweet and nice to him and behind his back she would back bite him. When he got to know the Avengers had to hold him back or he would’ve gone all Winter Soldier on the guy she was cheating on him with.

After a few bad experiences you came. Bucky’s ideal type with y/h/c hair, y/e/c eyes, y/l/c lips. You were sweet, nice, didn’t use for his money or fame neither you talked behind his back. You own a small bakery down the street of the Avengers tower.

You and Bucky met when he was running. He came into your bakery and asked for a black coffee with a cream roll. You were so sweet and polite Bucky instantly took a liking to you. You first started out as friends hanging out going to a park, having movie nights, going to arcades. Bucky was shy when he asked you out. You found it so cute that the big bad White Wolf was scared of your rejection. You instantly said ‘yes’. He took you to a picnic for the first date and you guys went swimming in the lake and looked at the stars at night. You two had been dating for 3 months when Bucky wanted you to meet his family ‘The Avengers’ and you were nervous You had no idea what to do and so you did what you had to. You agreed to meet The Avengers.

You were scared if they would like you or not and Bucky being the best boyfriend, he made all your worries go away be assuring you and praising you which made you all red and shy and giggly. He took you to the Avengers Compound and this how your first meeting with The Avengers went.

Flashback

Me and Bucky walked inside the Avengers Compound and went inside the living room.

“Hey guys” Bucky greeted everyone

“Hey” The said looking at him and their brows furrowed when they saw me.

“Who is this?” Captain America asked

“This is Y/N my girlfriend” Bucky said

“Hi” I said shyly and tried to hide myself behind Bucky to save me from all the looks and glares I was getting

“Hi” Black Widow said with a sickly smile

“Let’s eat!” Bucky said and clapped his hands.

We all sat at the kitchen table and started to eat the Alfredo pasta made.

“This is really tasty” I said trying to make thin like me a bit but the glares just intensified and Bucky through out the entire night was oblivious to the looks.

Flashback ends

You were in your bakery when you got a call from an unknown number

“Hello” you said picking up the phone

“Is this Y/N Y/L/N?” A voice on the other side on the line said

“Yes, this is she. How may I help you?” I asked

“I am calling from Apollo Hospital your boyfriend Bucky Barnes has suffered from a car accident we would like to inform you that he has been shifted to the medical ward in the Avengers Compound” The voice said and my eyes filled with tears

“Thank you” I said and cut the phone. I dashed out of the bakery and ran to the Avengers Compound. People were giving me weird looks but right now I didn’t care about the looks I just cared about Bucky. I ran inside the compound and went straight to the medical compound and stopped when I saw all the Avengers standing outside a room.

“What happened?” I asked

“Why are you here?” Tony asked rudely

“Bucky is my boyfriend I have a right to know if her is fine or not and why didn’t anyone call me when he was in the hospital?” I asked in the same tone

“Listen here girl you are no one alright so start talking with respect” Sam said

“I asked a question Tony replied rudely” I justified myself

“Listen here, get lost alright and don’t ever come near Bucky” Natasha said

“Oh, don’t be like that I know you’re in love with him. I’ve seen the looks you give him. If you really love him, you should be glad, he’s happy not sour that he is not with you” I said

“You b*tch!” Natasha screamed and charged towards me and punched me in the face and I fell down.

“You are just a gold digger who is using Bucky for his money.” Steve said

“You are no one you are ugly, an attention seeker, a s**t, pretty sure you’re cheating on Bucky” Clint said

“You do not deserve Bucky. He deserves someone like me beautiful, smart, talented and someone who knows how to defend himself” Natasha said

“You can stay here but you will not be the first one to meet Bucky” Bruce said

I felt a strong grip on my arm and saw that Steve was holding my arm with a death glare directed towards me.

“Listen Y/N Bucky has gone through a lot and needs someone who can help him and understand what he is going through some extent, who can carry his burden so he feels light not someone who will trouble him with his problems, he needs someone who will love him and cherish him not someone who will use and leave him in the dust.” Steve said as tears streamed down my face

“Steve, he’s awake” Tony came in

Me and Steve went towards Bucky’s room.

“He wants to see all of you first together except Y/N” Dr. Cho said and Natasha evilly smirked at me

“See, he doesn’t even wanna see you” Natasha said

“But he knows I’m here even when he was inside” I said feeling a little happy and Natasha slapped me.

“Come on, Nat” Steve said and they walked through the door.

Bucky’s POV

I was going to buy a ring for Y/N as a promise ring that I would always be with her but I heard a car coming towards me. I looked up and saw a car two steps away from me and I couldn’t move in time. I had a flashback of when I was Winter Soldier and they hit me with a car to see how fast I heal.

I woke up to sounds of some whimpers and someone talking.

“Listen here girl you are no one alright so start talking with respect” someone said

“I asked a question Tony replied rudely” I heard a girl said

“Listen here, get lost alright and don’t ever come near bucky” Another girl said

“Oh, don’t be like that I know you’re in love with him. I’ve seen the looks you give him. If you really love him, you should be glad, he’s happy not sour that he is not with you” I recognized the voice it was Y/N.

I finally started recognizing the voices

“You b*tch!” Natasha screamed

“You are just a gold digger who is using Bucky for his money.” Steve said

“You are no one you are ugly, an attention seeker, a s**t, pretty sure you’re cheating on Bucky” Clint said

“You do not deserve Bucky. He deserves someone like me beautiful, smart, talented and someone who knows how to defend himself” Natasha said

“You can stay here but you will not be the first one to meet Bucky” Bruce said

I felt a strong grip on my arm and saw that Steve was holding my arm with a death glare directed towards me.

“Dr. Cho?” I called her

“Bucky. You’re awake. Should I call them?” Dr. Cho said

“Just call the guys and not Y/N” I said getting angry

I heard a voice of someone getting slapped and the door open Through the small gap between the guys I could see Y/N with a black eye and a bruised cheek and Dr. Cho leading her to mend her up.

“Hey, Buck how are you feeling?” Steve asked

“Like I deserve someone who doesn’t want to fix me up for the sh*t I’ve gone through”

“What are you talking about Bucky? Natasha asked

“I heard what you said to Y/N just now” I said getting mad

“Bucky...” Sam started to say something

“STOP!” I screamed and the guys looked scared

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE HUH? YOU THINK YOU KNOW WHO I S GODD FOR ME OR NOT? AND YOU NATASHA JUST BECAUSE YOU WERE IN THE RED ROOMA DNWE HAD HISTORY DOESN’T MEAN THAT I WANT YOU. I WANT YOU AS A FRIEND AS A TEAM MATE! I DON’T WANT TO BE YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER! STEVE, I THOUGHT I TOLD HOW MUCH I LOVED Y/N AND THAT I WAS GONNA GIVE HER A PROMISE RING TODAY AND TELL HER THAT I LOVE HER!” I exclaimed

“You love her?” Natasha asked

“Yes, yes I do” I said

“Bucky, she doesn’t deserve you she doesn’t understand what you’re going through” Steve said

“Don’t. Just Don’t. Yeah, she might not understand what I go through but do you? You were never captured by HYDRA you were never told to kill people you were not wiped after every mission you don’t have a metal arm. She might not know or understand what I go through but she let’s me vent and cry not like you all try to distract me. I need to let it out not distract me” I said

“Don’t ever try to come between me and her or the consequences would not be good” I said threating them.

“Leave and send her in” I said

The guys left and Y/N came in

“Hey Buck. How are you?” she said sweetly “I’m fine honey, how are you?” I asked

pointing to the bruises on her face

“I’m fine baby, just fell” she said

“Honey, you don’t have to lie. I heard everything” I said opening my arms beckoning her to me she came over to me and hugged me avoiding all the wires attached to me.

“I’m sorry buck. I’ll leave if you want me too” she said

“I don’t want you to leave me gorgeous” I said patting her hair

“Get my jacket there is a box in it bring it to me” I said and she did what I said

“Bucky this is a ring box” she said as she handed it to me

I opened the box and it had a beautiful ring in it.

“With this ring I promise to cherish you and love you for ever and one day replace this ring with an engagement ring one day” Bucky said and put the ring on me

“I love you baby” Bucky said

“I love you too” I said and we kissed

#request #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes xreader #bucky barnes

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deceasedshadow · 7 months

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Y/N : I like Bucky, Thoughts?

Tony: Thoughts and prayers. You need Jesus.

Steve: Amen

#xreader #fluff #x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #tony x reader #steve rodgers imagine #bucky fanfic #incorrect tony stark #incorrect avengers #the avengers x reader #x y/n #bucky barnes

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bingbongsupremacy · 4 months

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Forget Me Not Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: idk lmk if there are some I should add. Hospital maybe?

Summary: After an unexpected encounter with HYDRA, Bucky is left without memory of who you are.

*Not Proof Read*

*****

As soon as I heard the news I rushed to the hospital.

Everyone let me through, eyes filled with pity and knowing. A knowledge of something I don't know.

Steve sends me a sympathetic look, his eyes hiding what's to come.

" Y/N- " Tony begins, attempting to block me from the hospital room.

" Let me through, Tony. " I state tensely. What are they keeping from me? What the fuck happened?

" We need to talk first. " Tony continues to block me.

I push past him. " We'll talk after. I need to see him. " I argue.

" Y/N, listen to me. He's not the same. " Tony whispers. " He....HYDRA found him. "

I snap towards Tony. " What? "

Tony nods. " HYDRA found him on our mission. They...they wiped his memory. "

My heart sinks. " Completely? "

" Not completely. "

His words spark hope in my mind.

" He just...he doesn't know what year it is. He thinks he just got back from war. " Tony states softly.

I let out a shallow breath. " I want-I need to see him. Please Tony. " My voice shakes.

Tony hesitates. Pepper gently places a hand on his bicep, whispering something into his ear. " Fine. Just...he's not the same, Y/N. He's not the same man you knew. "

Tony steps to the side, allowing me to pass.

I step into the sterile white room. A blue sheet blocks my vision from seeing my boyfriend. The room is silent, the soft beeping of a machine playing as the only noise.

I pull back the curtain and am immediately met with the sight of Bucky. Stitches cover his arm and face. A nasty bruise sits around one of his eyes. His hair is pulled out of the way of his face. His breath is shallow from sleep.

I stand still, taking in the sight in front of me.

I'm surprised with Bucky lets out a small groan. " Steve? " He asks softly.

I shake my head as he opens his eyes. Confusion fills his face. " I'm not Steve. " I whisper, unsure what to say. How do you tell someone you're their partner of 3 years?

" Are you a nurse? " Bucky's voice sounds dry, like he hasn't drunk water in weeks.

" Buck, " Steve's voice replies from behind me. He places a hand a comforting hand on my shoulder. " This is Y/N. They're your- "

I cut Steve off, shaking my head. " Friend. " I interrupt. " You probably don't remember me, " Pain shudders through my heart while I lie. " But we hung out all the time. " I try to conceal the pain in my voice. " I...I just wanted to check on you. "

Bucky attempts to sit up. " I-I'm sorry...I don't remember you. "

" I know. " I send him a tight lipped smile. " It's okay. I don't expect you to. "

Steve's hand holds my shoulder a little tighter, as if he's trying to soothe me in some way.

" I'm going to go. " I turn away from the two men. I can't be here. Not now.

He has no idea who I am.

" Wait! " I hear Bucky shout behind me.

I don't turn around, knowing that looking at him will set the flood gates open.

" I'm sorry...I don't know what I did to upset you...I'm sorry I don't remember you. " Bucky apologizes.

I nod stiffly. " It's not your fault. " I rub my eyes. " I'm gonna go, you get better, Barnes. "

I rush out of the room, not wanting to see the man any longer.

" You didn't need to lie. " Tony shuts the door behind me.

" Tony, if he found out we were dating it would just make everything awkward. " I shake my head. " I didn't want to confuse him. He's got a lot to adjust to. Adding in a partner would make it ten times worse. "

Tony sighs. " What if he finds out? " Tony asks. " Won't he be pissed? "

I met his gaze. " He won't. He can't. Tell the others not to say anything. He needs to get better, this would make it worse. "

" What if it helps him? To know you're there for him? To know you've been with him this long- "

" He has Steve. Steve's been with him way longer than me. I'm still going to talk to him. " Maybe. " I just won't complicate things. "

Tony nods. " Alright, I'll let them know. "

I'm doing this for his sake.

Right?

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caplanbuckybarnes · 2 months

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New to y'all, old AF to me

Being a newbie to the Avengers Tower, working alongside the Avengers, you'd thought life would have been more exciting. But with the threat of HYDRA on the rise, the gang decided to keep you under the wraps, sticking you into the tower to be locked away. Upon one night, however, you snuck out on the guise of going out with a cousin that was visiting the city. You never expected to see daylight again... or harbor feelings for a certain masked criminal.

Posted the first chapter today. Will be a total of 10 chapters. Heed the warnings.

tags below the cut

EVERYTHING TAGS: @writerwrites @palaiasaurus64 @notyourtypicalrose @hermesmaximoff @mariekoukie6661 @kjs-s @mistressofallthingsgeeky @fandomstufff@km-ffluv @hallecarey1 MARVEL TAGS: @dumblani @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @thoughtsofdarc @smokeandnailz @buckys-little-hoe @shakespeareanqueer @lxdyred @amelia-song-pond @pono-pura-vida @micheleamidalajedi @thegeekybibliophile @rebel-stardust @girl-next-door-writes @averyrogers83 @titty-teetee

BUCKY BARNES: @amoonagedaydreamer @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @white-wolf1940 @whatrambles @libbymouse @lxdyred @stuckybarton @leyannrae @themorningsunshine @its-daydreamer23 @fangirlanotherjust @miticasupervio @the-wayward-robot @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @mr-robot-x @sxbby-barnes @themorningsunshine @buckys-little-hoe

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #tws!bucky x reader #tws x reader #marvel xreader #marvel fic #marvel fics #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfictions #marvel au #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #tws x you #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you

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vampirethingz · 3 months

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bro i N E E D. a bucky/winter soldier x reader who got trained in the red room by him

ive got a whole ass plot and i cant write it cause im no writer 😭😭

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #winter soldier #the winter soldier #marvel #avengers #xreader #x reader #bucky x reader #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x reader

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first-edition · 8 months

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Sunday love

Pt2

(Dont really care but there are spelling and writing errors i didn’t feel like editing)

"Southern belle"Reader × Cowboy! Bucky

Sum- You're back home visiting your mother and sister only to be introduced to your sisters fiancé and his best friend, who just happens to be town heartthrob.

CW- fluff, Fem reader, talk of scars, hint of alcohol consumption, smut, p-in-v Unprotected-ish, breeding kink if you squint, kissing, pet names, oral fem reviving, short hand job, profanity.

You sit in the back on the ambulance as the paramedics finished wrapping up your arm.

“Thanks.” You say they nod. You hop down from your seat seeing your mom Steve and your sister rushing to you.

“I’m fine I’m fine don’t-“ you sigh as your mom pulls you into a bone crushing hug.

“Erk mom air.” You say she pulls back

“Are you alright?”

“I don’t know about after that hug but the split arm yeah I’m fine.” You snidely remark.

“You got your self into a right bitch showdown.” Peggy says

“I didn’t even do anything. I walked in and she chucked the bottle at me I already gave my statement to the police.” You say

“You can sue her. We can get lotsa money” Peggy says

“Stop…where’s Bucky?” You ask frowning not seeing him around.

“Inside still he’s pretty pissed about the bar.” Steve says.

“Take my mom as sister home would tab I’ll go see him.” You say walking passed your family and back to the establishment.

Entering you see Bucky holding a broken glass in hand as he sits on a bar stool.

“Bucky?” You ask walking up to him he immediately looks up and stands placing the glass down and rushing to you.

“You alright?!” He asks

“I’m fine just a scrape” you say holding up your heavily bandaged forearm. He frowns at you knowing it’s bull.

“Got 14 stitches.” You say.

“Fuck.” He says.

“It’s okay. I’m fine. Besides I’ll get a cool scar almost as cool as yours.” You say.

He chuckles.

“You want help cleaning up?” You ask.

“Not while ur injured.” He says

“Come on, I’m numbed up pretty heavy right now let me help at least till anesthesia wears off beside I let Peggy take my car so I’m stranded here.” You says

“Alright fine I don’t want you touching the glass or lifting shit so just sweep.” He says

You nod as you walk over grabbing a broom. And begin the chore of cleaning

————

You and Bucky clean and talk, laugh he mops up the spilled alcohol contents and moves the tables back.

There’s a static nose and music begins playing.

“Ah I forgot about that.” Bucky says looking over to the increasingly old jukebox.

“What?” You say

“My great great granddad had that installed here it once in a while it’ll go off and play music I thought I got it fixed, guess it’s back up again whatever.” He says

“I think it’s cool.” You say he gives you a small smile before going back to cleaning. You involuntarily hum along to the music which happens to play the song you listen too on repeat when ever it’s Sunday.

“I want a, a love that’s on the square, can’t seem to find somebody, and someone to care…” you softy sway and sing along.

Bucky takes notice to your antics and puts down the mop walking over to you. Your back facing him. He places his hand on your lower back kindly turning you to him before taking the broom Out of your hand placing it to the side.

“What are you doing?” You giggle as he takes your hand in his pulling you closer to him.

“Dancing with you.” He says a smile forms on your face as you look up at him. You softly sway to the music as if he’s from the 40s.

“My parents would listen to this song every Sunday and dance in the kitchen. It was thier wedding song.” You ramble.

He looks at you perfectly content as he pulls you closer to him chest to chest.

“When my dad went off to afaganistan my mom would dance with me in the kitchen to it…I um…I rember when the marshal came with my fathers uniform and flag and told my mom he was gone…she hugged his uniform and danced by herself all morning, this song on repeat.” You say resting your head against him.

“Later I found myself listening to it every Sunday.” You say

“Hmm that’s one another thing we have in common now.” He says you look up to him. He brushes his thumb against your chest.

“What our dead fathers?” You joke he chuckles and nods.

“That and Sunday means something else other than the end of the week day.” He says. He’s about to explain but you cut him off pressing your lips against his kissing him. He kisses back. Continuing where you both left off in the barn.

His hands roam your waist and yours untangle fingers in his hair he walks you back into a table as you sit utop it. Your hands move from his hair to his chest and stomach where you can feel his abs through the black shirt.

Your hand move under the shirt only breaking the kiss when he pulls back for a second to speak.

“I-i dont have anything.” He says his bright blue orbs dusky.” He sighs

You shake your head. Bringing his hand up you your arm as you runs his finger over the raised scar and bump letting his feel the implant.

“I got it covered.” You say he chuckles shaking his head as you pull his shirt off and over his head. He leans back to you to continue the kiss only for you to stop eyes glued to his toned front. Seeing scars littering his chest.

The most prominent one where his black and gold prosthetic meets his skin the marks of scratching and poor attachment from the silver one he had before.

“I-I know it’s ug-“ he says getting cut off by your lips on his chest kissing his scars as your thumbs feel along his abs. He groans his grip on your hips tightening. Your kisses move over to his prosthetic scar grazing it before kissing his neck and finding his lips giving them a peck.

“You’re beautiful.” You say.

He sighs not sure he’s heard anyone call him beautiful before and he quite likes it.

Placing his hand hand on your cheek he kisses you again passionately. Trying to Unbutton your flannel he rips it down the middle buttons flying off. Revealing your bras the motion from the broken shirt causes you cleave to jiggle making Bucky stir in this pants.

He kisses down your neck to your cleavage licking and sucking marking your chest and neck up easily. his hand snakes up your back and skillfully unclasps your bra. It falls off your shoulders and chest exposing you to him.

He gladly takes your breast in hand gripping it as he suckles in the other your nipple being swirled around his tounge. Making you cry out for him.

He pulls back a string of saliva snapping as his once bright blues are dusk with a sheen of lust. They flick to your bandages arm.

“Mm-mm” you say moving your other hand down your bodies palming his dick through the straining black jeans.

“Ah-f-fuck.” He gasps his metal hand gripping the table. The wood splitting under his grip as you slip your hand into his jeans feeling just how painfully hard he is.

You relieve him by pulling off his belt and snapping the button off his jeans. He pulls them down revealing his cock. Somehow it’s pretty. Perfectly shaped and colored.

Biting your lip you take it into your hand stroking it send a shiver up Bucky which prompts him to place his metal hand around your neck making you gasp and grip his cock.

“S-sorry.” He grunts pulling his hand away only for you to grab it again keeping the cool metal flush against your neck.

“Don’t pull away.” You gasp.

“I-“

You cut him off by kissing him he kisses you back after being reassured.

His hands move your waist to your pants unbuttoning and pulling them off.

“Lay back doll.” He says you let go of him laying back holding your self on your elbows.

His hand moves from your neck to your lower stomach pressing down lightly. His other presses a thumb against your clit making you gasp before he presses two fingers into your cunt. He groan at the feeling of you.

“F-fuck..” you shakily moan as he immediately find your g-spot pressing and stroking it.

“B-Bucky..ngh.” You lay flat on your back no noticing he kneels down face to face with your gorgeous pussy.

Holding out his tongue he presses it to your clit tasting your swirling. A choked gasp leave your mouth not expecting him to feel this good. If he can do this with his mouth and fingers what wonders can he do with his dick.

Lost in pleasure your hand covers your mouth out of habit as you quiet yourself. He pulls away from you standing as he feels you clenching around his digits, ultimately denying you of finishing.

“Look at me doll.” He says you open your eyes seeing him as he kisses up your body giving your thighs a squeeze as he pushes them up so set himself between you.

“Take that hand off your mouth and let me hear you scream my name.” He says says. His southern accent erupting from thick throat. The comment alone could make you cum.

You take the hand from your mouth.

“Good girl.” He speaks again before glancing down angling his dick to you. Your eyes go wide at the comment once again. You rock your hips brushing his tip against ur entrance.

“What? You like that…hmm being called a good girl?” He says his pupils blown with lust.

“Y-yes..” you say

You feel him push his length into you. His moan makes you melt as he basically whimpers to the feeling of you stretch around him.

His hands cup your breast as he begins to thrust the fat of your breasts jiggle prompting his to kiss your buds.

your nails scratch into his back as he leans forward to kiss you muffling the sounds you make. You can hear the sound on metal scraping against the wood of the table under you as you pull him closer to you rocking your hips against him.

His metal hand grips your thigh as he draws in a shaky breath breaking contact with ur lips.

“SH-shit y/n…” he gasps as you feel his cock twitch inside you making you smile. Your smile immedetly fades when he pulls out of you all together the empty feeling pissing you off.

“I ain’t cumming before you doll.” He says pulling you down to the edge of the table and lifting you before flipping you over and lightly pushing your front back down to the table before he thrusts back into you.

“A-ah ah…fuuuck.” you choke out the moans as his dick strokes your g-spot over and over immediately making you cum with a whimper.

You claw at the table as he absolutely rails you into oblivion. His hand moves from your hips to your cunt his fingers instantly finding your clit circling it overstimulating you.

Your knees go weak as you start you crumble under the pleausre.

“Stand up.” He barks at you slapping your ass. You listen legs shaking as he wraps his arms around your waist holding you up. You feel the familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach once more. Buckys thrusts stagger as he cums with a rough thrust leading you two your second orgasm.

You feel buckys lips kissing your back and shoulders. He moves youre hair to the side kissing your cheek. He makes his way to youe neck only to hesitate when he sees the forming bruise.

“Im sorry..” he says before slipping out of you. You frown at his sudden pulling away you stand only to go baby deer and your legs give out. Before hitting the ground you’re caught by him.

“I got you.” He says holding you up. His eyes search your body seeing the reddending skin where he was gripping you.

“Mm my eyes are up here.” You say looking at him. He looks up at you.

“You alright I didn’t hurt you did I” he says running his thumb over your neck. You shake your head and look back at the table seeing it cracked and scratched and visibly damaged.

“I think the table is worse than me.” You giggle looking back at him.

He nods before pecking your lips.

“H-hold on.” He says reverting back to his quiet self as he sets you against the table. He pulls up his pants and walks over to a cabnet pulling out a blanket before walking back to you wrapping it around you.

You smile at him. He scrambles around the room picking up the articles of clothing placing them next to you as he then helps you redress as he give you his own shirt for ripping yours.

“Would you maybe like to stay? I could take you home in the morning.” He says.

“You sure? I dont wan to intrude i-“ you begin “please. Stay” he says.

“Okay.”

#bucky x reader #Southern bucky xreader #Cowboy bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky smut #bucky barnes one shot

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warnersister · 1 year

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Orc! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: when your previous engagement appeared at your peaceful house, void of invitation - you had more than enough to say about his acceptance in your village.

Warnings: mentions of murder, sex, pregnancy, sexual assault (reader continues at own discretion).

“Come hither, foul beast! And meet your fated doom!” A voice boomed from beyond the confinements of your previously silent cottage. Bucky was already awake, but you wear laid on his arm so he allowed you to sleep peacefully, a small smile on his face as he caressed your cheek lovingly. The noise woke you up though, an aggravated groan erupting from your stomach. “The sun is not yet awake.” You huffed. “Who needs to visit at this time?”

Bucky laughed at your complaints but pulled his arm out from beneath you, rising to answer the ruckus at your door. He opened it, faced with a large mob of angry kinsmen, scowling up at the one they called a ‘beast’. “Beast! You loathsome, wretched barbarian! I command you return my lady at once!” A man on a horse said, bearing a newly sharpened sword and pointing it at the orc’s face. Bucky raised his eyebrow, taking the sword between two fingers and snapping it as if merely a tooth-pick.

“Your lady?” He scoffed. “You will do no such thing with my wife.” The crowd gasped, hands clutching their hearts. “Disgraceful! Wedding and bedding a fair virgin maiden! Her lost innocence!” The man reiterated. Their argument was interrupted by you appearing from your bedroom, tired eyes surveying the conversation - Bucky holding you behind the protection of his own muscle.

“My lady! My love! My wife!” The man cried, pathetically. “I have searched many days and nights to seek you. I have finally arrived to save you from this hellish torture, you are safe now.” He held his hand out, as if expecting you to take it. You eyed him, and Bucky couldn’t help but be amused by the unimpressed expression on your face.

“Let me make something clear, my lord.” Your voice soft, and innocent, suddenly dropping to a harsh monotone. “I was never your lady. Never your wife to me. And I was never most certainly your love. My father sold me for a great fortune, a selfish gamble and I, the gambit.” The folks rudely crowding around your home were taken aback. “You tried to take my innocence on the roof of my manor, ignoring my pleas of escape.” His face went pale.

“I ran to the forest. Nothing but a shoal and dress to keep me warm when I met Bucky. He took me in, showed me what freedom was. He taught me how to live. How to love. How to love myself. He showed me the goddamn respect I deserved.” You shoved your orc’s arm out of the way, and the chorus of gasps were music to your ears.

“He showed me to fuck like I deserved, when I was ready.” You seethed. “So you bastard king, stay away from me, stay away from my husband,” you poked the man in the chest upon every syllable. “And stay away from my unborn child.” You turned to walk back inside. “You horrid, disgusting, disrespecting beast. You are a monster.” And like that you were gone, leaving a stunned silence in your path. “My soldiers will see you out.” Bucky stated calmly, the humans only noticing the number of locals appearing around to surround them. “Permanently.” And your door shut.

The cries and screams were music to your ears when you settled back into your place in bed, the orc growing in your stomach seeming to settle, also. Bucky kissed you, wrapping his hands around your stomach. “My handsome, loving husband.” You grinned.

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darkuselesssomebody · 24 days

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masterlists!

** all works are x reader (written as x fem!reader but most are/can be read as gender neutral)

** this masterlist includes all fandoms i write for - if you have a suggestion with another fandom/character, you can still request it, and i can see if i know them/am willing to write for them ** this is a dark blog; all content comes with content warnings and is 18+ !!

☁ dark marvel masterlist

☁ dark stranger things masterlist

☁ dark miscellaneous

☁ kinktober 2023

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braveclementine · 2 days

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October 21: Knife Play (Bucky Barnes)💙

Warnings: 18+ readers only, Knife play, knives, Sergeant kink, more knives, pet name, some more knives, possession kink, KNIVES! DO YOU UNDERSTAND THERE WILL BE KNIVES!!!! 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

Copyright: I do not own Bucky Barnes (Please own me Sergeant) or any other Marvel/MCU characters. I also do not condone any copying of this.

"I want to know your dangerous side." You begged Bucky.

"God doll. . ." Bucky groaned.

The two of you were in the bedroom late at night. He'd just gotten back from a mission a few hours ago, falling asleep almost immediately. But now he was up, and he'd been cuddling you and kissing you, wanting to make love.

Nat always told you about the things that she and Bruce did in bed and some things. . . well they were probably better off not knowing. Who knew the sweet scientist could be so freaking kinky? Or maybe he was just going along with Nat's kinks.

Either way, you and Bucky always had a good sex life. He was extremely rough and dominating, but he never fully let himself go either, always afraid that he had to be careful or he'd hurt you. But now, you were begging him to let go and use his kinks in bed. He on the other hand, was afraid he'd hurt you.

"C'mon Bucky, you won't hurt me! It's been years since you were the Winter Soldier and you have control over everything now! Besides, I like it when you're rough with me. I want you to let go, please?"

"Shit why do you have to beg me like that." Bucky groaned, hands tightening on your arms where he was holding you. "You know I always give in when you ask like that."

"That's why I ask like that." You teased. "But seriously Bucky, we have safe words for a reason. If I get uncomfortable, I'll use them. Promise."

He gazed at you and you held your breath, waiting. "What if I have a very, very unusual kink?"

"Then I get to explore a new way of having sex." You said quickly.

He narrowed his eyes at you, "Did you already have a conversation without yourself to combat any questions or remarks I might throw at you?"

"Yes."

A grin broke out over his face and he shook his head in amusement, "Fine doll. But I want you to use the safe words immediately, understand?"

"Yes Sergeant."

His eyes glinted as he rolled out of bed, crossing the room to rummage in the drawer, "Take off that shirt and skirt if you like them doll."

You didn't, because you didn't really like them. It had been old clothes that you had dug out and you had only worn the skirt because it was hot out and you'd stupidly washed all of your shorts in the laundry and they were dry yet.

He had a medium sized knife in his hand when he came back. It had a rather thin blade, good enough to do damage, but could also easily be used as a letter opener if someone wanted. The handle on the other hand was thick and long, with ridges carved in it.

It was actually a beautiful knife, well polished. The handle was black and grey with red tints.

Bucky's hands were steady as he climbed over you, straddling your body, but his breathing was uneven, erotic, and aroused.

"Arms above your head doll." He demanded.

You could already feel wetness pooling in your knickers from his dominance. No matter what, it never failed to turn you on.

You were curious about the knife. You'd heard of knife kinks, but you had always thought those were about pain and you knew that no matter what, Bucky would never cut you with a knife. So he must have something else planned with the knife- but what?

He grasped the collar of your shirt firmly in his metal hand, before slicing the knife down to let the material fall open easily. He made quick work of the shirt before it was nothing more than tatters, falling to the floor, the back of it still under you. He sliced open the bra as well, before moving onto the skirt and then the knickers.

You were just as equally aroused as he was in this moment. Despite the ruining of your clothes- which you deserved as you hadn't listened to him- there was something about his demeanor that was so, so hot.

"How are you feeling doll?" He asked softly. You could feel the blade dragging across your collarbone, but it wasn't cutting skin. It was just a cold edge, making goosebumps rise up on your skin.

"Good." You whispered.

His movements were slow and calculated, watching your every facial expression to make sure you weren't uncomfortable or scared of him.

He switched the knife to his metal hand, turning the knife so that the blade was in his hand, dragging the handle of the knife down to your folds. "Doll?"

"Yes Sergeant?"

"How are you feeling?"

"Like you're still holding back." You teased with a soft smile.

He smiled a little, running the handle of the knife back and forth between your folds. "Well, you are soaking this beautiful knife handle. I guess that does mean something at least."

"Well I love it when you're dominant." Your voice said in a seductive tone.

He full our smirked, pushing the handle lightly against your opening and pulling back. It was nowhere near as big as his cock, of course, but it was still bigger than two or three of his fingers, so there was still a bit of a stretch.

"Relax for me doll." Bucky murmured.

You relaxed as much as possible in the bed, craning your neck slightly so that you could watch as he pushed the knife handle in half-way. A stuttering breath fell from your lips and it seemed to relieve Bucky some.

His pace didn't speed up any, but he wasn't being as hesitant, slowly moving the handle in and out of you until he finally pushed the entire thing in.

Chills erupted out onto your entire body and you shuddered and sighed. "Sergeant."

He looked like he was trying to regain himself now, breathing in and out, his hand not moving the handle. "Oh Fuck Doll, you don't know what you're doing to me right now."

"Sergeant please move." You begged, rolling your hips against the handle. The ridges of the design scraped nicely across your walls, making sure that the sweet spots were hit at just the right angle. And there was a wonderful fullness to it, though it would never beat his prick.

He started to move faster and you did your best to relax, though you weren't entirely sure how it would be now that it was moving faster. But it actually felt really good, and you made sure that Bucky knew it by all the moans and whimpers that spilled from your lips.

"Oh fuck Doll, you don't know what you do to me. The idea of watching you get off by one of my most dangerous and prized weapons just fucking arouses me. Fuck Doll just cum whenever you want. Make sure you scream for me. Scream for your Sergeant." He groaned.

You finally let your head drop back on the pillow, neck sore from having it cinched the entire time. You could feel your stomach muscles clenching and contracting as your approaching orgasm was coming, and your walls continued to squeeze the blade handle inside of you.

"Fuck! SERGEANT!" You screamed as you released all over the handle. He continued to work you through your orgasm, adding his flesh fingers to your clit and making you cum again.

After he made you cum another three times by his fingers and handle alone, he finally pulled the blade out of you. It was absolutely filthy, the way that your juices had collected in streams in between the ridges of the handle.

Bucky chuckled, "Open up doll."

You opened your mouth obediently and he stuck the blade handle just a few inches into your mouth. He watched you suck your own juices off of the handle, your innocent eyes always on his. He groaned, leaning forward as his hard-on pulsed in his jeans.

He pulled the handle away from your lips, licking the rest of your delicious juices from the handle.

"One more thing before I obliterate this pussy." He whispered, running his fingers through your folds. "But I need to know that you're up for it. It's. . . It's not. . ."

"Buck, it's okay, just tell me." You said softly, reaching up to cradle his face.

"You can say no, of course." He said quickly, moving the blade to your inner thigh, resting it on a point there. "But I just. . . the idea of carving my name right here, so you always know who you belong to, it just entices me."

Your breath hitched in your throat. You'd always loved possessive Bucky.

He mistook the hitching of your breath though and said quickly, "It's fine! I know it would be a little painful and I would never hurt you and I know that maybe in the future you won't want it, or maybe you'd move on of course and you wouldn't want that there or-"

"Bucky." You said firmly, attempting to calm him down. "I would love for you to take possession of me."

Now his breath hitched in his throat and you waited. "Positive?" he asked quietly.

"Positive." You whispered with a smile.

He hesitated, watching your face. You just waited patiently until he picked the knife back up again, hovering it above your right inner thigh. He finally pressed down, breaking skin, and carved his name out. It wasn't deep and though it stung, it was doable.

He was very gentle, wiping away blood smears, his hands slightly trembling, but he couldn't keep the shit-eating grin off his face and it made you happy to see him like this.

He set the knife aside gently, placing a bandage over your new marking, and then kissed it gently. "Thank you doll. You mean the world to me."

"I love you Bucky. You're my Sergeant. I'll follow you to the end of the world." You whispered.

The two of you passionately kissed.

And then he followed through on his promise and obliterated you.

And then you got a wedding ring and seven kids out of it.

#Braveclementineworks #Kinktober2022 #18+readersonly #Knife Play #Bucky Barnes #Sergeant Kink #Sergeant Bucky Barnes #BuckyBarnesxreader #xreader #Kinktoberprompt #Knife kink #pet names #Marvel #Possession kink

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twilightrocksfanfic · 1 year

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I actually do write Fanfiction

I know this may be a surprise but I do

And requests are open

I write for:

Twilight (Anyone except Volturi)

Criminal minds (Spencer and Morgan)

Marvel Cinematic Universe (Pretty much anyone)

Do I write Smut? Possibly

I like the idea of writing good smut but who knows if I could actually do it. I’d be very much willing to try.

Fluff and Hurt/Comfort are definitely my comfort zone

So yeah

Anyone pls make a request I need the inspiration

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coopermorrow · 1 year

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Marvel/Avengers Masterlist

This is my official masterlist for Marvel/Avengers characters. I will write for all the characters listed as well as others if it is requested. I will also write for their actors. For additional information, please refer to the post linked below.

This masterlist along with my others will be updated everytime a new story/fic is written or in the works of being written.

LOKI LAUFEYSON:

-none yet

THOR ODINSON:

-none yet

TONY STARK:

-none yet

PETER PARKER:

-none yet

NATASHA ROMANOFF:

-none yet

STEVE ROGERS:

-none yet

SAM WILSON:

-none yet

JAMES "BUCKY" BARNES:

-none yet

BRUCE BANNER:

-none yet

WANDA MAXIMOFF:

-none yet

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delicrieux · 2 years

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𝐢𝐧��𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 | 𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧

pairing: young!wanda x f!reader, young!tony x f!reader, young!bucky x reader

chapter summary: bucky recalls an ominous warning

warnings: swearing, descriptions of wounds and blood

words: 3.8k

in case you’ve forgotten how the young avengers looked!: tony ˖ bruce ˖ nat ˖ wanda ˖ steve ˖ bucky ˖ pietro

feedback is always appreciated xoxo

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | itw masterpost | make sure to check out the autumn features as well! <3

Nothing is ever easy for those born on the lower level of the magnificent class ladder, and for James Buchanan Barnes, stuck wasting away his youth at the prestigious Pembury University, the feeling of disquiet is all too familiar after two years playing the role of the outcast.

It’s not only a metaphorical, emotional weight that ties him down – this knowledge that he, by all means, should not be here – but it’s made obvious by his clothes: woeful hand-me-downs, old tailored suit jackets with visible seams that stand out so horribly in this seamless environment. Anywhere else he would carve his little corner and proceed happily, but not here. No, the stone walls of Pembury are too cold and untouchable – any attempt he had made to fit in was doomed to fail from the very start.

He is simply despised, but in a subtle, unassuming way that would never be obvious if he did not possess a sharp mind and quick eyes to catch displeased glances and plastic smiles. Old money business and all, nothing is ever as it seems for the fear of becoming too obstruse, unfashionable. And here, there is no crime bigger than to be different. Eccentric behaviours are forgiven as long as one has an expensive watch. Money talks, and James’ bank account had always been humbly quiet.

It all began with an innocent curiosity about history: where had it began, and when shall it cease to exist entirely? Hours spent playing outside only, once evening drew, to rush to his bed and pour over records of humanity made accessible to children via cute facts and funny pictures; endless monologues playing on loop in his mind of listening to his grandfather’s stories of war; cruelty turned into an interesting concept of analysis, like an archaeologist brushing away coats of sand from an artefact and trying to decipher the hieroglyphics with a gentle touch somewhere in the Sahara Desert. The horror of war to a historian is always something out of reach – existing, but never empirical. In youth he wanted to follow this curiosity into the trenches.

And when he grew up, the influence of his mother overpowered any boyish heroic daydreams he had had: books are safer. He was only ever introduced to history through stories, so why not study those instead? Instead of damning himself to the life of military regime and preparing for things to come, why not focus on how and why those things are cursed to repeat themselves? James was always a gentle kid, but hid it well. He loved his mother. The prospect of her unease made him severely uncomfortable. It was a hard choice, but he decided on pursuing studies.

It was the worst decision he had ever made.

Perhaps it would be different if he was somewhere different; perhaps if he studied in a local college not far from home, he would have never known this baseless torment. He never considered himself emotionally complex, but everything in Pembury is complex and he was ambushed by a reverie that he is, too.

His admission here was...a freak accident. A transgression of divine will and so, the punishment. A free ride to one of the most reclusive, exclusive universities on the planet based on a sports scholarship for a historian. He is a walking joke among this pompous crowd.

But it’s not all hellfire and winding corridors. He has one friend, one companion that does not treat him differently. A fellow historian, fascinated by the atrocities human beings are capable of. Steve Rogers.

Steve is of similar background: a typical American boy from a typical American family, and his upbringing shows from the way he shakes one’s hand to the way he tells a joke. Only his father is a war hero, a close friend of the president, and while James’ summers were spent causing a ruckus in Brooklyn, Steve was admiring the visas from his yacht before afternoon polo practice.

And even if every bone in James’ body itches to hate Steve just because he was born into wealth, James cannot bring himself to do so. Steve is kind, suspiciously so considering the kind of company he keeps around. No, James is not blind to them, the golden quintet of students that are either revered or secretly snubbed. There’s the nuisance of a person that is Anthony Stark, the lovely, but deadly, Natasha Romanov, the glue that keeps the group from killing one another Bruce Banner, the ever-amiable Steve Rogers, and... You.

One day you’re here, in his peripherals, dancing around the statues and arches and easing in and out of existence like a ghost before emerging from classrooms or the library or Anthony’s room.

The next you’re gone in a flurry of dark smoke.

His room is silent and cold; pale, as if all the colours had been sucked out. The sky behind the window is lined with glowing, pallid clouds. The promise of thunder and rain keeps him on edge. He remembers the first time he saw you.

The spring semester of his first year proved to be a challenge. Autumn had been cruel with its gruesome studies, unforgiving pace, harsh winds and even harsher expressions facing his direction. He had almost swallowed down the morsel named defeated after nearly four months of choking on it. He considered quitting, leaving this damned place and writing an apology letter to his mother for betraying her wishes. It was his intention, made visible by tense, determined strides and tightly knit brows; a note of anxiety conveyed by fidgeting hands and blue eyes that roamed around alert of incoming enemies.

Pembury was alight with anticipation; a buzz of excitement came with the spring chill. The end of the year play constructed by the glorious Pembury troupe was to grace the main stage late May, just before the exam season. A last huzzah before rigorous torture and sleepless nights.

James paid little attention to all this commotion – he understood literature little and theatre even less. He was never one for art, more for facts, and if he was honest with himself, for practicality. There is nothing practical about history. There is nothing to be done, or changed. Obsession over the past is only impressive if one has the funds to sit around and rave about dead men for hours. He desired change, to be part of that change. Perhaps his childish heroics had not vacated the crevasse in his heart yet.

Posters lined every wall that was unused by a portrait or a landscape or some strange scribble of colours dubbed “modern art”. These large advertisements of Shakespeare’s CAESAR were only glanced at by James. He did not know the people, did not care to know them, either. If they were like everyone in Pembury, then avoiding them was for the best.

But he was looking forward to the play. Not for the performance itself, but for the quiet that will bathe this place once all the students vacate their resident spots to enjoy the spectacle. He was waiting to roam around unbothered, sit in the library undisturbed, wear his washed-out jumper without mockery. It was what he needed, no, craved. A moment of solace in case he fails to write that letter like a coward.

He turned a sharp corner and there was nowhere to run. The poster was right in front of him, in all its glory, strangely reminiscent of a political campaign with its muted blue and red colours. He stopped himself before he could move away, and perhaps this was his fatal mistake for he was always one to indulge in curiosity and what he found in the poster proved to be indeed curious.

On a throne-like presidential chair sat a woman clad in a navy-blue suit. He had seen her around, he thought, had heard her laugh and talk and poke Steve on the cheek for one reason or another. It was you, (Name), but he was not sure if he recalled correctly. Normally docile, or aloof (your elusive nature yet to be made clear to James), your expression was demanding, a face of a tyrant that inspired trepidation. Tight knit brows and a set jaw, with downturned lips and eyes that bore past the poster and right at him. His mouth felt as if full of cotton.

HIS NAME IS

CAESAR

Like a vine wrapped around your arm was woman, voluptuous and cat-like, with a gilded smile like a dagger directed at her beloved. He could only assume that was Calpurnia, adorned in her red skirt and white blouse that tastefully showed off her décolletage. Something in her eyes betrayed trouble; yours appeared to be calling on a storm.

He paused by the poster and stared, trying to decipher what had made him so unnerved by it. Was it your demanding presence? The intrigue of Calpurnia’s expression? His own building fascination with the golden quintet now made so obvious by his gawking? He was embarrassed, yet unable to retreat. The two of you appeared so life-like, yet statuesque. Like everything else in Pembury: stagnant yet in fluid, unnoticed motion.

A wild thought occurred to him that you will jump out the poster and yell at him for loitering around and Calpurnia would laugh and laugh and her voice would reverberate in the hall, in his head, in his heart, engraving itself there like a sin.

And then he heard it, that laugh that sounded so deliciously dangerous, and he startled away from the poster and whipped his head to the side. Ways down the empty corridor, lined by dried flowers and faceless statues, the open door to the rehearsal hall beckoned him closer. It was a terrible ruckus, loud and ear piercing – where those screams of joy, conflict, anguish, or had they no purpose at all? In all his musings he had seemingly grown deaf.

He should have known better than to wander into places he is obviously unwelcomed. The Pembury theatre, full of it’s thespians and deranged fanatics called dramaturgs, was no place for a traveller of his kind. Yet he went anyway, and only partly regretted it since.

It was cold and dark in the theatre hall, with stage lights shining pale starlight on the actors. Few visitors – like he, enchanted by the posters, led by the voices – sat in the mostly unoccupied seats, their expressions invisible due to the scarce light. The set was yet to be painted, a few white curtains thrown about and stacked chairs yet to find their place on the stage. He moved slowly, cautiously, narrowing down on the lonely figure illuminated into a wraith at the centre of it all.

Hunched and folded into itself, James realised it was that figure that let out those tormented wails. Without taking his eyes away, he found a spare seat and continued to ogle. Through the noise vague yells of “Feel it! Feel the rage! You are—You are—!” were lost to trashing. There was something cathartic about it, that visceral speal of sound. It spoke to him, to all that pent up emotion he carried with him that made him shiver.

As if the figure was screaming for the both of them, for every snide remark and unkind sentence, every gilded look and subtle jab. Every student and professor that made him feel less than, every comment made of his vestments, every laugh at his expense, every thing cruel and unkind about Pembury that made it to what it was.

He startled once more when he felt a touch on his forearm, only to realise it was a hand sliding up to wrap around his shoulders. Perfume, strong like midnight, doused his senses and he glanced to the side, frightened to be so suddenly ambushed by the woman from the poster. Calpurnia, wearing her alluring smile, leaned in close with a hum, “Magical, right?” Her voice was rasp, low, bored, with a lilt that reminded him of old New York starlets. Instantly he knew if she knew who he was she would pull away as if scorned.

He was too shocked to speak. Everything was happening too fast. He wanted to retreat yet was trapped in her gentle embrace.

Not deterred by his silence, Calpurnia gazed back at the stage. The screaming cut off on a high note and the figure straightened up slowly, painfully, chest heaving and hands trembling, clinging to their toga. You. You shivering like a leaf and crying yet no less angry than you had been in the poster. More, perhaps. No, definitely more. If you held a knife you would slice it at the first person that dared to invade your space. Such a frame and so much rage, where did it all fit?

“Well, don’t get too enamoured.” Calpurnia murmured, just loud enough to make out past the director’s applause, “She dies in act three.”

Steve barges into the room and cuts James’ reverie short. The haunting shadows of their dorm paint a hollow, sicken image onto the ever lovely Rogers’ face: distraught and eyes-blazing with a fervour that was shaking him, that made him unable to stand in one place for too long. A few strides back and forth in that silence were excruciating – James didn’t know what to say and Steve didn’t know where to start.

“Did…” Bucky’s voice rings out crushed, blood-ridden, like cranberry jam, “Did they find her?”

Steve shakes his head, “No, no, there’s nothing—“ He throws himself onto his bed, “nothing.” He says it with a severity he doesn’t want to admit, not yet. James can see the gears in his head turning, wandering, dismantling and being re-fixed into place with careful detail. He feels ill in the hush that follows. Angry breaths line the air. Rain thunders on a flimsy pane of glass.

“Shouldn’t we tell the police?” James hisses out, leaning in, as if they are sharing some terrible conspiracy his dorm mates might overhear from outside the door. Steve levels him with a long look. Of what he thinks, James cannot tell. Not now. He seems torn, almost defeated. He had never seen Steve look so helpless.

“…That’s what Bruce and I said.” He mumbles, bitter of the fact, “But Nat said it’s better to wait.”

“For what? She’s been missing for two days now—what if she’s in trouble?”

“I know that.” Steve grits in a flash of annoyance; he calms quickly, “Really, I know that. I want to help, but…I just don’t know what to do.”

James fiddles with his hands, wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, taps his foot a few times glancing out the window. Steve watches him with a newfound curiosity: the tight flex of his jaw and idle, anxious fingers that play piano on the sheets of his bed.

“…Do you?” The question echoes sincere. It grates on James’ ears – he wants to run from it, run from Steve, too, and so he stands up and makes his way to the door but Steve is quick to follow after him. His retreat is halted by a friendly hand grasping unto his upper arm, “Bucky, do you know something?”

…Does he?

Only that you’re terrible, and only that he may love you.

“No.” He says, aware of the fact that he’s lying, “No, I don’t.”

Steve doesn’t try to stop him again, and so James stumbles out of the room and into the drowsy corridor ignited with warm lamp light. Waxen wooden floors and old wallpaper line his way into the washroom – the air is cooler here, but it’s so loud: the narrow windows where he can barely reach are cracked open, wind and rain spewing over the sill.

It was an ungodly hour, sometime after four a.m. and the sun hadn’t risen yet. But James had been awoken by thirst. Dizzy and parched and holding up a glass, he had made his way into the second floor boys’ washrooms and staggered inside, shutting his eyes quickly once they stung from the light.

He heard running water and crickets overhead, flies and moths hitting lamps, and a spell of soft breathing sounds. Once he deemed it safe enough to look, though blurry vision he noted a figure stood by the sinks, and delirious and half asleep he had assumed it was a ghost.

But soon the features were made clear and he breathed out a breath he was unaware he was holding. The soft gleam of skin, the curious expression, tangled hair and a messy toga blooming red from a scar on the side of your leg – it was you, leaning onto the porcelain sinks and staring into the depths of the mirror as if you saw something interesting behind you, in you.

James didn’t quite know what to say faced with the sight, so he spoke the only thing that came to mind, “…Wrong bathroom.” Your head tilted to the sound of his voice, and from where he stood your eyes appeared black – blank and expressionless, and he wondered if he dared to approach you would he see his own reflection in them magnified. He pointed behind himself to the door, “This is the boys’.”

You straightened up, and you didn’t blink as you did, simply lynched him with a stare that didn’t really focus on anything in particular, “You’re a friend of Steve’s.” You whispered, and your voice was gutted, as if from screaming, and he recalled that you were good at that – screaming, wailing, clawing at yourself to release all that pent up rage that was dormant behind a bored façade.

It clicked, suddenly – the get up and you, here, confused and high and most likely found by accident. There must have been another rehearsal, one that lasted deep into the night (not an unlikely occurrence, for more often than not, the theatre lived past the witching hour and closed its doors during the afternoon). But all of that was an afterthought, a vague idea that shimmered beneath the startling realisation that you knew who he was – that you had remembered him, even if a state of delirium, enough to point out whose friend he was.

“…James.” He introduced, somewhat awkward, somewhat shy under your gaze.

You had offered your own name in return, but it’s not like he didn’t already know it – didn’t already have it carved into his heart along with your shrill, lulling voice on stage.

His eyes trailed down your figure, fixating to the fresh wound, “You’re hurt.” Concern for someone he didn’t know overcame him quick – abandoning his glass by the door, he approached hurriedly, not once taking his eyes away from the scar, “What happened?”

You smelled like pinewood and rain, a fog laden forest brimming with mystery and citrusy body spray underneath layers of greenery and sweat. Your makeup was smeared and ink blotches of mascara ran down your cheeks reminiscent of tear tracks. You looked quite waxen to him then, like a medieval portrait.

His estimation had been correct. He did see himself in your eyes, saw his own knit brows and down-turned lips. But he didn’t think you saw much at all.

You didn’t reply, only held onto the sink tighter, as if silence and movement were the only ways you communicated, the only ways you knew how. So, a rehearsal accident, he assumed, maybe high and drunk someone had mistakenly slashed at you with a real knife instead of a prop one; or, perhaps, you had tripped and fell and hurt yourself of something sharp and protruding behind the curtains. Whichever the case may be, you needed help. He knew a thing or two about patching people up – he would have made a good doctor, if only he didn’t love history more.

His glass sat lonely by the door, even after he returned with the first-aid kit. By that point you had curled onto the cold, spotless tiles of the bathroom, your leg trembling under his hot fingers. You laid voiceless as he poured antiseptic on the gash and when he patted the inflamed skin with cotton. To close the wound you’ll need stitches, and while he was confident he could do it correctly, he knew it would still leave a scar.

He wanted to ask you if you would not rather prefer a professional doing this, but judging by your blank expression you preferred nothing, nor knew of anything, at the moment. He cussed under his breath and underwent the operation. The water kept running and you were still silent when the needle pierced your skin.

“Does it hurt?” He questioned, already knowing the answer.

“It doesn’t feel like anything.”

Here it was, his first operation on the battlefield. He assumed once upon a time that he would perform such oddities somewhere in the trenches, wherever the army took him, because he didn’t yet know he didn’t have the stomach for it, didn’t know he would fall in love with retellings of wars and ever listen to his mother the way he does now. But all that practice on his neighbourhood kids – treating cuts and bruises after running amuck all day – had paid off in the most unexpected way.

Your pupils had started to shrink along with the sunrise. Under the flickering eyelashes he could finally make out specs of (colour), and he thought, boldly at that, that it should never be obstructed again—that it would be a shame to hide a colour that suits you so nicely. That you’re quite pretty from up close and a bit frightening from afar.

Without moving your leg, you sat up slowly, cautiously, as he put his instruments away. Packed into a first-aid kit and closed shut, his attention was once again on you. That’s when you drew closer, your lips grazing the side of his in a kiss that could be mistaken for accidental if he didn’t catch the strange look in your eye. He was stunned.

“My thanks.” You said in a hoarse, tired voice with an uplifting lilt, and he watched you rise and stand and limp away, holding onto the sink and then the doorframe and then he assumed the walls. You left and the mystery did with you. Light bled through the narrow windows – dawn had come, and you, like a ghost, had disappeared.

He wonders if you remember – no, agonizes over the fact. It had haunted him for months after the whole ordeal, and bitter he once assumed that he had simply had a dream. The situation was surreal enough for him to convince himself that it had been a nightmare, but that comfortable bubble shattered when Steve, after returning from one of his secretive meetings, said: “(Name) says hi. You know her?”

James knows her, knows of her, knows a part of her that she may not share with anyone else. Had it been fate or divine coincidence that he found her in the bathroom that morning? What would have you done if he did not? These questions seem to have seeped into the walls of the washroom. They disturb him each time he enters, and retreat into the back of his mind when he leaves.

It’s a terrible feeling he harbours for you – hopeless and doomed to fail from the start. Pembury has corrupted him. Now that he really thinks about it, it has corrupted you, too.

let’s go back? | onto the next part…

tagging: @moonlightlullaby ♥

#marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #The Avengers #the avengers x reader #imagine #imagines #xreader #reader insert #itw #into the wilderness

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