#bucky only wears clothes if the left sleeve is torn off

[not-wholly-unheroic]

Captain Hook and Improving Disability Representation in Modern Media

Ask anyone on the street to name a canonically disabled character, and there are a few who immediately come to mind—Daredevil, Professor X, Bucky Barnes, Geordi La Forge, and both Anakin & Luke Skywalker just to name a few. Hook should also make that list but ironically, even though his very NAME suggests his disability, it’s easy to forget that he is, in fact, an amputee.

In part, I think this is because historically, it has been intentionally glossed over in many film and TV versions. He is almost never shown without the iron claw attached at the end of his arm, and even the subject isn’t spoken about much in film. For example, in Spielberg’s 1991 film, Hook, and in Fox’s Peter Pan and the Pirates (1990-1991) we see a few shots of Hook sleeping in his bed and yet still wearing his prosthetic. Likewise, no matter how many times Disney’s (1953) Hook gets his clothes shredded by the crocodile, we never see his injured arm fully laid bare. (In fact, in the few shots where his left shirt sleeve has been torn off, the hook seems to be almost physically unable to be separated from his body. The skin simply stops near the wrist and then we have the iron base of the claw with no sort of harness to actually keep it in place.) Even when Peter begins to tell the story of how he cut off Hook’s hand to the mermaids, he barely gets a few words in before the audience’s attention is purposefully redirected to the captain himself in all of his glorious villainy so we don’t get to thinking too much about the fact that the entire reason he has that hook to begin with is because our hero seriously injured him. We aren’t meant to think of Hook as much beyond the stereotypical “scary amputee villain” character because if we examine him too closely, we’ll start to humanize him and risk asking questions that the filmmakers aren’t prepared to answer. (How did the hand loss occur? Was it a fair fight? Who started it? How much should we sympathize with Hook? How much should we trust Peter?)

More recent visual media has, however, made some improvements in this area. In particular, I’d like to take a closer look at two very different (but equally important) portrayals of Hook that have occurred in the last few decades—Jason Isaacs’ Hook (from P.J. Hogan’s 2003 Peter Pan) and Disney’s more recent spin on the captain in Jake and the Neverland Pirates (2011-2016).

Isaacs’ Hook—arguably the most Barrie-like incarnation we’ve seen on film—is introduced to us in a way unlike any other. He’s not standing proud out on the deck barking orders at his crew or strolling through the forest in search of Pan’s hideout (though we certainly see those moments later). Instead, our first glimpse of the captain shows us who he is underneath all the silk and ceremony—a troubled man pained both mentally and physically by the loss of his hand.

Looking disheveled, he wakes from a dream about Pan and slowly raises the injured arm for the audience to see. It isn’t the nice, smooth stump one would expect to see if a surgeon had performed the operation. Instead, it looks as though the hand had been crudely cut away. The skin is uneven and scarred. And while we aren’t meant to pity Hook here—the man can clearly take care of himself—we are supposed to see his humanity and recognize that he has experienced trauma. Suddenly, he isn’t just a villain anymore—he’s a person who not only experienced immense physical pain when he lost his hand but continues to experience discomfort daily when he dons the leather harness that must be wrenched tightly into place to keep the claw secure during battle.

It’s a brief scene overall, lasting only a few minutes, but it adds a lot to his character and the story as a whole. His disability isn’t the main focus but it is openly and respectfully acknowledged. This version of Hook—intended for older children and adults—shows us the darker, more complicated parts of the Captain in a way that hits unsettlingly close to home. Suddenly, his intense responses to the crocodile (and ticking) seem less comical and more akin to the PTSD response one might expect from a soldier who lost a limb in wartime from an explosion hearing fireworks go off.

Another more recent take on Hook that does a good job of normalizing his status as an amputee character is Disney’s Jake and the Neverland Pirates series. While many adult Hook fans have complained about the series making the character too silly, I believe that for the intended audience (pre-school kids), it actually does a great job of showing that disability isn’t something to be feared or made fun of. Taking their target audience into consideration, Disney did a lot in the Jake series to tone down Hook’s scarier elements both in terms of his personality (more of a bully with self-esteem issues than a truly dangerous villain) and his physical appearance (He is visibly less angular with more rounded edges to everything from his facial structure to the claw itself). In an interview, Corey Burton even explained how he vocally changes up a few things between his “traditional” Disney Hook sound and the voice he uses for Hook in the show. He also mentions in one interview that some people were concerned that “a guy with a hook for a hand might be too scary” for little ones, but the series makes it seem so natural that it really doesn’t feel like a big deal. While in the original film, we only see Hook changing out the claw once (for a fancier golden hook), in the Jake series, it happens so frequently that there is literally an entire episode (“Captain Hook’s Hooks”) that is focused on all the different attachments he has and includes a fun song about them.

Although some of the “hooks” are rather outlandishly imaginative and altogether improbable if not impossible in real life, there are many that DO mimic actual modern prosthetic attachments (a hammer, for instance, or attachments that allow for recreational activities like sports or fishing). In fact, the captain’s set of hooks are made out to be so interesting and fun that Disney Jr. actually had an online game called, “Ready, Set, Hook,” where the player had to help Hook and Smee choose the right prosthetic attachment to complete a set of challenges. What’s more, they even released a set of toy “hooks” for children so they could pretend to be the one-handed captain himself!

Jake’s version of Hook may not be the intimidating character we have come to expect, but he’s a likable guy with a cool set of hooks who bridges the gap in explaining physical disability and prostheses to young children. In the show, Hook doesn’t feel “other” for missing a hand; rather, switching out prosthetic attachments are so much a part of who he is that nobody thinks twice about it.

Overall, Hook has come a long way in terms of disability representation on-screen, and I hope we continue to see more of it in future productions.

#captain hook disney #disney peter pan #disney #captain hook #disney villains #peter pan #james hook #captain james hook #jason isaacs hook #peter pan 2003 #captain hook jason isaacs #Jason Isaacs #jake and the neverland pirates #disability #disability representation #amputee #amputee representation

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 18

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky makes breakfast. Reader has a proposal.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by @araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Quick references to past abuse, internalized guilt

Word Count: 5.5k

AO3 (Now with fan art!)

This wasn’t the first time Bucky had been startled awake with a warm arm draped securely over his chest. It was for that reason that, before he was fully conscious, every muscle in his body froze and his heart lurched in his chest.

But then the soothing smell of petrichor and the subtle scent of the penthouse flooded his nostrils, and Bucky slowly relaxed from his panic-stricken state.

He was safe. No HYDRA soldiers to come rattle his cage and leer at his naked body. No Fairbanks with his grasping hands and lurid smiles. No Lukin taunting him, mocking Bucky for daring to believe he could escape.

It was her. Just her.

Bucky had to focus hard to deepen his shallow breathing, take in enough air to calm his frantic heart. He opened his eyes and stared up at the sun-drenched ceiling, a further reminder of how far he was from that nightmare. Deep in the bowels of the Siberian fortress, sunlight had been a rare luxury, kindness and comfort even rarer.

His human hand was resting on the arm slumped over him, and Bucky lowered his gaze to follow the limb up to its owners face. The rest of his anxiety quieted at the sight of her, the strange girl who never ceased to surprise him.

Even now, he wondered why she was still here. Maybe that would change once she woke, but for now, Bucky was going to let himself be selfish, to believe for a moment that this was… was…

Normal was too generous a word for what this could never be. Even if he didn’t take the demon side into consideration—a big fucking if—Bucky was too damaged. He had given her a tiny glimpse into what HYDRA had done to him. Before his heats had returned, Bucky hadn’t had sex or fed from anyone since he’d escaped HYDRA. And if it wasn’t for the feedings, he doubt he’d ever have sex again. He was too broken to be a decent partner to anyone. The idea of someone putting their hands on him used to turn his stomach inside out.

And yet, here he was, unable to get enough of the simple, intimate touches of sharing a bed with someone. As much as he wanted to push her away, put some appropriate space between them, her closeness was intoxicating. It was all he could do to stop himself from burying his nose in her hair.

He shouldn’t linger, it was cruel and unfair to both of them, but… what was the harm in staying just a few minutes longer…

Bucky turned his head toward her, closing his eyes and breathing her in as the strands of her hair tickled his face. There was a twist in his chest, knowing he was stealing this moment, but it had been so long since he’d had something like this.

The only person he’d ever been this close to was Steve, and Steve hadn’t known… hadn’t fully understood what Bucky had been becoming. Back in the cold muddy trenches and war-torn towns, scouring all of Europe for signs of HYDRA and their occultist laboratories, Steve had helped Bucky through the confusing and terrifying new feedings as much as he could. It had even had the upside of finally letting Bucky admit he’d had feelings for Steve as long as he could remember.

Steve had always been more religious than Bucky. Still believed in God long after Bucky had lost his faith, and he had no delusions what Steve would think about him if he knew Bucky was still alive. When Steve had last seen him, Bucky had been normal, for the most part. The only thing that marked him as no longer human from Zola’s first round of experiments had been his tail, much shorter and smaller in those days.

If Steve saw him now… Bucky knew he’d be the #1 monster on the Avengers’ list.

All these dark thoughts flew around his head, because he needed to be reminded why this could never be a reality. That Bucky’s first priority should be to find a way to break the bond and let her go, back to her life where she could one day recover from everything he’d done to her.

Bucky would never deserve normal. He’d lost that chance a long time ago.

And yet… why couldn’t he pull away?

A muted tune rang from across the room, startling Bucky, his muscles tightening on learned response. Carefully pulling her arm off his chest, he quickly got up from the bed to his dresser where the phone was still chiming away. It went silent before Bucky could reach it, giving another beep as a message came up on the screen.

Mom – 1 Voice Message

Guilt poured through Bucky’s insides. It was nearly noon and people were probably wondering where she was. She had a life to get back to, one that didn’t include him.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder toward the bed, surprised to see the noise and jostling hadn’t woken her.

He knew from observing her over the years that any little noise seemed to startle her awake. Sometimes in his more paranoid moments, Bucky had wondered if she could somehow sense he was there, on the adjoining rooftop of her apartment building, unable to see past the curtained window but feeling her clearly enough. Always watchful, always waiting to see what escaped demon would make its way back to her, and then intervening and killing it before she was ever the wiser.

In hindsight, Bucky was an idiot for not suspecting the bond’s existence. Not when he could find her so easily, sense where she was at any given time, and even felt when she was frightened or angry.

But Bucky had been in complete denial, chalking it up to his powers that he didn’t fully understand.

Remembering what he had promised last night, Bucky carefully picked up the stuffed toy and carried it to his study, an overlooked room that branched off from the foyer. Inside was a safe, and within that safe contained his contingency plans.

After everything Bucky had survived, and after seeing HYDRA nearly return several years ago, he was prepared. Falsified passports from dozens of countries, currency from those same nations, and keys for various vehicles he had stashed around the state.

These weren’t just fake IDs for Bucky; there was a second set made for the girl, just in case HYDRA ever found out about her. As obsessed as they were with demon lore, he knew she would be a target if they ever knew how Bucky came back from the dead.

But now, he wondered. Had the bond been influencing him all this time and he had no idea?

Bucky still didn’t know. Sometimes… he felt like he couldn’t trust his own mind.

He returned to the main living area, casting a sidelong glance toward the bed. She was still tucked under the covers, now hugging a pillow tight to her chest and burying her face into the fabric.

Knowing it didn’t mean anything, Bucky headed toward the kitchen to make himself useful. The least he could do was cook her a decent breakfast before she inevitably left.

Pulling the ingredients from the fridge and cupboards, Bucky tried not to think about how he wanted her to stay, and the disappointment settling in his chest at knowing she wouldn’t. It wasn’t fair of him to feel that way. He didn’t deserve to want anything.

Bucky would give her a few days, like he promised, but then he was going to Strange. This had already gone too far, and he should have gone straight to the sorcerers after the first feeding.

Maybe he couldn’t be blamed for the first time, but everything after was on Bucky.

Steeped as he was in his grim mood, Bucky didn’t realize she was awake until she was already in the kitchen. He looked up from where he was cooking pancakes on the stove, warmth spreading in his chest at the sight of her disheveled appearance. Her hair was a mess and she was rubbing her cheek where it was still wrinkled from being pressed against the pillow.

She was also wearing a sweater. His, specifically; an old grey one he’d almost forgotten about.

“Was cold,” she said by way of explanation, shrugging self-consciously and plugging at one of the baggy sleeves. “Sorry. I can take it off if you want.”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek. Of course the memory of the night before rose full force in his head, and he suddenly loved the idea of her just taking everything off. Writhing on his bed, this time fully naked as he dragged his tongue up her stomach, between her breasts and latching onto her throat—

He cleared his throat and struggled to speak past the lump there.

“Borrow all the clothes you like.” At least his voice was passably steady. There was no reason for her to think he had any filthy thoughts running through his head. “Sorry for waking you, was trying to be quiet.”

“I needed to get up,” she responded, almost sounding… cheery. She took a step forward, seemed to think better of it, and remained hovering near the island counter.

Bucky forced himself to turn back to the stove, his tail flicking back and forth with interest, and he was tempted to swat at it with the spatula. With her here, in his kitchen, in his house which had been cold and empty for so long, it felt painfully domestic.

He shouldn’t get used to it, he told himself. It was temporary.

“I’m making blueberry pancakes, if you want some. I know you like ‘em.”

Bucky winced. Fucking fantastic. As if she needed to be reminded he’d been watching her for years like a goddamn stalker.

“If you want to eat them before you go, I mean,” Bucky hurriedly added, wanting her to understand she could leave at any time, that she wasn’t a prisoner.

Strangely, he heard her breath hitch as she gave a small, “Oh.”

She almost sounded disappointed. Bucky was imagining it, wishful thinking, because of course she wouldn’t want to stay, especially if she knew how tempted he was to toss the spatula, turn off the stove, and carry her right back to bed where he wouldn’t let her leave for the rest of the day—

What the fuck was wrong with him? He’d just fed last night! There was zero reason he should be this fucking hard up for sex again.

“What about you? Do you like blueberry pancakes?”

Bucky had been so distracted he hadn’t realized she’d snuck up on him, standing at his elbow and looking up at him curiously. Somehow, he managed not to flinch aside from a slight shifting of his wings.

His tail started to reach out to her, so Bucky tightly coiled it around his leg. Stupid fucking thing.

“Uh…” He blinked down at her, not knowing what to say.

“Because until now, I didn’t know you even ate food.” She scrunched up her nose, giving him a funny little smirk. “I thought you lived entirely on sex.”

A snort was startled out of him and he had to fight not to smile, pressing his lips firmly together. Only she could joke about something like that.

“That’s only the demon side. The human part of me still has to eat.”

“Mmm, I see.”

God, was she teasing him? He could have sworn there was a lilting edge to her tone, but that couldn’t be right.

“Do you need any help?” she asked, slightly leaning forward to the stove. Without thinking, Bucky put a hand on her shoulder to gently pull her back. Last thing he needed was for her to get hot vegetable oil burns.

“I’ve got it covered. Thanks,” he said, internally wincing at his stiff response.

Bucky looked back down at the pancakes, focusing very hard on the simmering mixture, but the warm presence at his elbow didn’t go away, and instead leaned closer, begging to be paid attention to.

Goddamn if it wasn’t working.

He had pancakes to flip. He couldn’t think about how cute she looked right after waking up, or how seeing her dressed in Bucky’s clothes made him feel something he couldn’t quite explain to himself.

“So…” she drawled, “I have questions.”

“Uh-huh?” Bucky answered noncommittedly. It seemed she hadn’t forgotten his promise they could talk in the morning, so he kept his entire attention honed on flipping, scrapping, and transferring a cooked pancake to the plate before adding more batter.

“Living in a clock tower isn’t exactly what I’d pictured for a demon’s natural habitat.”

Bucky said nothing, stubbornly waiting for an actual question to be put to him. Probably a mistake on his part, because she propped herself against the counter, leaning back just far enough that he couldn’t avoid her eye.

“Okay,” he said, flat, staring at the pan as if his life depended on it.

“I’m just curious how you wound up in a multimillion dollar penthouse in Brooklyn.”

Bucky released another soft snort. That question, at least, was one that was easy to answer.

“It’s not mine. It belongs to the Masters. The Sorcerer Supreme, specifically, and the last one was… generous enough to let me stay.” A small tug pulled at the corner of his mouth as he added, “And the current one hasn’t decided to kick me out. Yet.”

“That’s Strange, right? I mean.” She sheepishly winced. “Strange the man, not… strange as in…”

“Yeah, I got what you meant.” Now it was Bucky’s turn to turn a playful smirk in her direction. “That’s his real name, did you know that? He used to be a surgeon not that long ago. Permanently injured his hands in a car accident and went searching for the sorcerers for a cure. And then he never left them.”

Bucky could tell this piqued her interest. She seemed fascinated with that kind of thing, to his eternal dismay. He would have thought after being attacked by an Alp, and then a heigore, and having to deal with Bucky himself, she’d want nothing to do with demons or magic.

“Neat,” she said, confirming his suspicions that she wasn’t the least bit interested in forgetting about occultism and that she lacked a serious self-preservation instinct. “I mean, not neat that he got in an accident—“

“I know,” Bucky repeated, his smirk forming into an actual smile.

It felt… odd on his face, rusty and not as bright as his smiles used to be, but he couldn’t deny it was nice. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled like that.

Bucky caught sight of the look on her face, staring up at him with such raw, unfiltered wonder that he had to immediately duck his head again, cheeks suddenly going hot.

The hell was she looking at him like that for?

“Okay, so, next question,” she said, apparently not noticing the borderline panic-mode Bucky was in. “How did you end up with the wizards? I know about the portal business, but you haven’t really told me much about what happened right after.”

Bucky bit his lip. This area was a little more… difficult. It was a time he really didn’t want to think about, and considering all the fucked up memories he didn’t want to remember, that was really saying something.

But he’d made a promise, and he was actually planning on keeping it, for once.

“They knew about the portal. Sensed it themselves or through their weird magic shit, I don’t know, but they went looking for the demons that came through. They also went to the origin of where the portal appeared. Your house,” he clarified when she remained silent and gawking.

“My… house?” Her brows were furrowed severely. “I think I’d remember wizards at my house.”

Bucky lifted his brows and gave her a long look, pleased with himself when she became flustered and looked away.

“They probably disguised themselves,” Bucky continued. “Police, pest control, city maintenance. They try not to shape or alter memories when they can. That kind of thing has a lingering effect.”

If Bucky was scraping the spatula a little too hard against the frying pan, she didn’t comment on it, and he was relieved to see the batter was almost gone. One more batch should do it.

“I… think I remember pest control people, yeah. They were in my room a long time. Said I had termites in my closet.” She let out a snort. “Yeah, I definitely remember that, because I thought they were a bunch of liars. Told my mom and she scolded me for being rude to strangers.”

A slow smile made its way onto Bucky’s face. He could see the scene all too clearly. Even at that age she’d seemed fearless.

His smile faded a little as he recalled what happened after. He could still see the glowing orange glyphs in the dark alley, feel the fiery ropes around his wrists and ankles as they restrained him.

“The sorcerers caught me in a trap. It was… bad.” He worried at his lip, wings shifting and his tail tightening around his leg. “I wasn’t myself. After where I’d been, I barely remembered what it was like to be human. It took me a long time to remember who I was, and they helped me with that. I owe them a lot.”

Too much, he thought. And he’d never be able to pay her back. The Ancient One’s death had come as a shocking blow, and Bucky wished more than anything that she was here now. She’d know what to do, how to actually handle the bond, unlike the goateed prick.

“Really?” she asked, curiosity back in her tone. “Because I got the impression you didn’t really like the wizards. Not that I can blame you. I was this close to strangling Strange with his own cloak.”

And just like that, the dark thoughts edging in were chased away, and Bucky was trying not to smile again.

“The Masters had a different leader back then. She was… kind. Terrifying, in a quiet kind of way. She had to kick my ass a few times before I got the hint that I wasn’t going anywhere.”

He looked down at the pancake, flipping it over with a small, soft pull at his lips. “It didn’t take me long to realize she wasn’t HYDRA. She never hurt me. Never forced me to feed. In fact, she created the first version of the replacement potion. Apparently, no one knew how to do it, but she figured it out, somehow…”

Bucky trailed off as he caught the strange expression on the girl’s face. She was looking pointedly at the floor, her mouth drawn into a tight line with her brows at a troubled angle.

“She sounds like she’s important to you,” she said, still refusing to meet his eye.

“She was,” Bucky agreed, eyeing her a moment before turning back to the pan just long enough to flip the pancake onto the plate, joining it with the full stack. “She was killed two years ago.”

“Oh.”

He didn’t have to look at her to know the guilt would be all over her expression, replacing the jealous Bucky was pretty sure had been there a second ago. Now, why she would feel jealous, Bucky didn’t have the slightest idea.

“I’m didn’t know. I’m sorry.” She rubbed her arm as if cold, the long sleeves of his sweater hanging past her fingertips. “That must have been hard on you.”

“Yeah. It was.” Bucky paused, bracing his hands on the counter after turning off the burner. He allows his tail to unwind from around his leg, having to be careful not to bang it against the cabinets in its agitated state. “I wanted to track down her killer myself, but by the time I knew what had happened, Strange was the new leader and the bastard who had killed her was dead.”

It was unfair of him to hold that against Strange, robbing him of his chance of revenge. But Bucky had been so angered by her death, angry at himself he couldn’t prevent it, and no one who seemed to care or understand. Wong was a decent guy, but he wasn’t exactly the drinking buddy-type, and Strange was… a pompous jackass.

Master Drumm would have been Bucky’s first choice of someone to confide in, he’d always been kind to Bucky, but he’d been killed in the attack too. Bucky hadn’t felt that alone in a long, long time.

He could still remember it so distinctly. That sharp pang of losing someone, of being left behind. Of being lost. It should have been a familiar feeling, something he was used to, but it hurt with the same amount of devastating pain every single time—

There was a gentle warmth on his bare forearm, drawing his attention down to it, then up to the girl’s face. Bucky hadn’t even realized she’d moved.

“Bucky,” she said in a quiet voice. “Are you okay?”

Such a simple question shouldn’t have left him reeling, but it did. He stared down at her, having no idea what to say, especially to her. Why was she asking Bucky if he was okay?

“I’m fine,” he said, the lie sticking in his throat. He turned toward the pancakes, hoping she would get the hint. “You should eat before—“

A startled noise made its way out of him when she wrapped her arms snuggly around his chest. She maneuvered under his arm to lay her head against his shoulder, firmly attaching herself to his side.

Bucky was solid stone, not even breathing. Nothing but static in his ears and a dial-tone in his head.

His traitorous tail was working just fine though, and it wrapped itself firmly around her waist as if to draw her closer.

Bucky’s face was on fire, and he wondered if he’d burn up on the spot, banished back to the demon realm. Wouldn’t that just have been a fucking kicker of a way to die.

When he realized she wasn’t about to just let go, he released his held breath and placed a hand on her head, not sure what else to do with it.

She’s not a dog! Hug her back, you goddamn idiot!

Hard-swallowing, Bucky lowered his hand to the back of her neck, settling his human hand there in what he hoped was a comforting way. She hugged him tighter, so Bucky took that as a hopeful sign.

He didn’t used to be like this, so awkward and stiff with affectionate touches and simple hugs. He hadn’t realized how bad it had gotten until…

…until her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, warmth breath tickling his neck. “You just looked so… sad. I don’t know what else to do.”

“I’m fine,” he tried again, having to clear his throat so it wouldn’t crack. “But... thanks.”

She eventually pulled away, leaving him suddenly aware of the chilly temperature of the penthouse. Not meeting his eye, staring fixedly on his chest, she said, “I keep doing that. I should be asking you beforehand, especially after what you told me last night. I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry—“

Bucky carefully took hold of her hand, interrupting her from the spiral of apologies she was about to go down. He’d traveled that same road, after all.

She lifted her gaze to meet his, slightly widened and lips parted. Bucky had to swallow again, pushing back against the overwhelming desire to taste those lips.

“You can hug me whenever you want, how ‘bout that?”

Her eyes brightened, joyful and jubilant, which made his next words extremely difficult to say.

“But… only when we’re in private.”

Watching her expression dim made him want to reach out, take it back, but it was true. Strange’s people would be watching her more closely now, at least for a while, and they couldn’t know the truth. Not yet.

“Right,” she said, quiet as she looked down at their joined hands.

Hers were soft, so much so that he was afraid his sharp nails would scratch her, so Bucky held her with the faintest grip. It seemed to be how he touched her when he wasn’t feeding, careful to make up for the times he wasn’t. A large part of him was constantly terrified of hurting her, and that fear seemed to grow each day.

Needing to interrupt the heavy silence and find a reason to release her hand, Bucky said in a low tone, “Your phone rang earlier. I think they left a message.”

“Oh. Right. I should go check that.” She smiled, almost bashfully as she pulled away from his hand… and his tail.

Bucky had forgotten the stupid thing was still holding on to her, and he pulled it back quickly, coiling it around his leg again. It didn’t escape his notice that she ducked her head bashfully before leaving the kitchen.

Bucky blew out a breath as he got out the syrup and orange juice. He retrieved additional plates and glasses, unable to think of a time he’d ever needed more than one set, and he went to put them on the table. Couldn’t remember a time when he’d actually ate at the thing, either.

Bucky could hear her on the phone in the bathroom and tried not to pay attention to the words, though he couldn’t exactly turn off his unnaturally sharp hearing. But what did slip through was clearly a heated argument.

“—I didn’t forget, Mom! I’ve been busy! I haven’t been ignoring you, I just—“

Bucky winced guiltily. It was almost Christmas and he knew she usually celebrated it with her family. Just another thing Bucky had ruined for her.

Her voice eventually lowered enough that Bucky couldn’t hear the conversation, for which he was grateful. When the bathroom door opened, he expected to find her flustered and still angry.

Instead, she seemed nervous, avoiding his eye as she approached the table, chewing her lip in thought. She’d also taken the time to dress in her old clothes that Bucky had laid out for her, clean and dried.

He didn’t acknowledge the brief flicker of disappointment he felt.

“So…” She didn’t sit down, instead standing behind one of the chairs and resting her hand on its back. “I’m leaving tonight to go home for Christmas.”

“Okay.”

He bit his tongue, wanting to say that was a horrible idea considering what had just happened with the heigore, but she seemed to have more to say, so he remained silent.

“And I won’t be back until after New Year’s.”

Bucky blinked. He couldn’t have heard right. “But that’s a week, no, more than a week you’d be away.”

“Yep,” she answered, tapping her finger on the chair.

Bucky pulled out another chair at the head of the table and sat down, bracing his elbows on his thighs as he rubbed his face. He hated to do this to her, but they had no choice.

“You can’t go. You know that, right? We would need to… There would have to be another feeding before then.”

“I know.” Again she spoke in that airy, anxious tone as she tapped her fingernail against the chair. “I know that.”

“So then why are you—“

“Come with me.”

Bucky stiffened. Then looked up at her.

“Repeat that?”

“I said, come with me.”

There was definitely a nervous energy in her voice as she spoke faster, almost as if afraid Bucky would interrupt.

“Come with me, back home for Christmas. I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it? Whenever you need to feed, I’ll be right there. And if there are any more demons around, you’ll also be there to protect me. You can even tell that to the sorcerers. It’s a win-win for everybody.”

Bucky gaped in silence for too long, and she stumbled over her next words.

“I mean, unless you already have plans for the holidays—“

“No, I don’t, I—that’s not the—Are you serious?”

He was on his feet now, incredulous and floored at her for even considering this. “You do remember what I am, don’t you?”

Her eyes narrowed quickly, her brows thunderous as she took a step toward him, unafraid when Bucky practically towered over her.

“Yeah, you’re a demon. So what. You think I didn’t consider that beforehand?”

“Okay, you considered it the whole five minutes you were in the bathroom. What a well-thought out plan,” he said, dripping sarcasm. “Let me tell you something right now. You don’t want me, a goddamn demon, around your family—“

“—No, you don’t get to do that! You don’t get to decide what I want.”

She was standing in front of him now, a finger pressed against his chest, her expression absolutely fuming.

“Listen to me, Bucky. I know you, and I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt us. You go above and beyond just to keep me safe. I trust you.”

Her words robbed him of his own, and Bucky stood there in silence. She searched his eyes, her expression softening the smallest amount as her voice dropped into a more reasonable tone.

“You can make yourself look human. My family won’t know the difference, so why does it matter? The fact is, it doesn’t. It’s a good plan that’ll address all our issues, so all I ask is you stop and consider it, actually consider it, before you veto it.”

She took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest, squaring up like Bucky had seen Steve do in too many back-alleys.

“I haven’t seen my family in months, Bucky. It’s the reason I took time off work to begin with. I’m going whether you like it or not, so you can either come with me tonight.”

She lifted her chin in defiance.

“Or you come out to Boston in a few days when I’m in excruciating agony. Your call.”

She was out of her mind. A lunatic. A girl on a suicide mission with no sense in her head.

He’d never wanted to kiss her so badly in his entire life.

Bucky also crossed his arms to prevent himself from doing any such thing. “And how are you gonna explain it to your family when I show up on their doorstep?”

The fury evaporated off her face, and Bucky was curious to witness the sheepish angle of her brows return.

“I already told my mom you might be coming. She, uh… asked if you were my boyfriend, and I… didn’t correct her.”

“You didn’t…”

Bucky’s voice was faint, mainly because he couldn’t take a breath properly. This girl was going to be the death of him.

“Let me get this straight,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You want me to spend Christmas with your family, and not only lie to them about me being a demon, but that we’re also… dating.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Bucky nodded. “This is officially insane.”

To his surprise, she actually laughed. It wasn’t a mean laugh either, but a warm, honest one, her head tilted at an amused angle.

“Bucky, this entire situation is insane. I mean, we’re having sex on a weekly basis so we both don’t die. It doesn’t get any weirder than that.”

And just like that, the fight vanished out of him like hot air out of a balloon. He could actually feel his shoulders loosen and the frown on his lips fade away. It was hard to argue with her when she was staring up at him with that teasing fondness back on her face.

She was right. There was nothing safe or normal about any of this. Maybe Bucky was the one being a stubborn idiot.

At the moment, anyway. He was still fully convinced she had a death-wish of some kind, so it wouldn’t hurt to be able to have a cover story for being able to stick close to her side.

“You’re gonna regret this,” he grumbled as he pulled his hand away from his face, rolling his eyes. “No one’s taken me home to meet their parents in over seventy-five years.”

“Is that a yes?” The mischievous light in her eyes should have been a sign for Bucky to abort mission, but… he was quickly realizing his ability to refuse her of anything was diminishing by the day.

“It’s a yes,” Bucky sighed. Barely got out the words before she was barreling into his chest once more, wrapping him in an impressive bear-hug.

Having a sneaking suspicious she was figuring out exactly how to win every argument against him, Bucky found he didn’t much care if she did. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his wings unfurling to droop around her without him telling them to do so.

Bucky had promised himself he wouldn’t let this continue, but being trapped in a house with her, allowed to be close and touch her and pretend he was something he wasn’t? It was going to test every ounce of willpower he had to let her go afterwards.

Bucky didn’t know if he would have the strength to do it.

Next Chapter

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #demon!bucky barnes #demon!bucky #demon!bucky x reader #branded #my writing #my fanfiction

[corallp]

So I thought of a cowboy au for tfatws and @ja3hwa hyped me up to do this. A few place names are made up and hopefully you all enjoy my cowboy adaptation of tfatws.

Chapter One - Meeting Old Friends

The sun stands high over the small town of Della. The red dirt stains everything in sight, the buildings, the horses, the clothes of cowboys and dresses of women. Della is a blink and you'll miss it town, nothing big, nothing too small for a cowboys liking. Saloon, general store, hotel and sheriff's office.

Outside the saloon, Sam Wilson stands lazily smoking his cigar. Dressed in dark red clothes with a white long coat over the top, hiding his pistols that hang on his waist. The red Della dirt stained coat also hides his sheriff's badge on his chest. People of Della know who he is but new comers wouldn't expect a black man to be sheriff.

His white hat hangs low over his eyes, keeping the blinding sun from giving him a bigger headache. He really isn't in the mood for any bullshit today so he's just hoping that none of the boys decide to be pests. But today had gone smoothly enough, just hoping he hadn't jinxed it just yet.

A minute passes by and he curses under his breath as he hears a chippy voice call out to him.

"Sam! Sam!"

Deputy Joaquin Torres rides up to him on his small filly looking like he just rode from the other side of the state. He wears black and green clothes with shiny new boots that Sam is curious where Torres has the time to purchase them. A red bandana is tied around his neck and a single pistol hangs from his hip. Sam watches him with furrowed eyebrows as he hitches his horse. Torres wasn't meant to be back until the next day after tomorrow.

"I found the Johnny Boys!" Torres says puffed and huffed as he skips up the stairs to the saloon.

Sam's lazy posture stiffens and he stands up straight, almost dropping his cigar. The Johnny Boys. Just over the hill at Terra Creek.

"How many?" Sam quickly asks. He's already moving to his horse and Torres quickly does the same.

"Only three of them. I wasn't able to see the fourth," Torres informs as they both mount their horses.

Sam doesn't waste anytime, digging his spurs into his horse and riding off with Torres close behind. Out of all the days, today the Johnny boys had to pop up. They had been causing trouble for the last few weeks in Della and Sam had had enough of it and wanted them taken in by the law. He had sent Torres out, his best tracker he knows to go find them. It must of taken Torres less time to find them then he had originally thought. He had undermined the kid.

"What's your plan of action!?" Sam shouts to Torres. His heart is pounding in his ears because maybe finally, finally they'll get the Boys.

The deputy begins leading the way and turns his head back to Sam. "They're on the bank where the fallen tree is. They looked pissed as parrots so I say we sneak in from on top of the bank and get them from there at gun point!"

"What about the fourth!?"

"We'll figure that out when we get there!" Torres replies back with a large smile on his face.

Sam frowns but nods. Torres chuckles to himself as he leads the way and Sam can't help but let the smile that comes to his features. Torres has been by Sam's side for a good few years now. Ever since Steve left them, it's just been Sam and Torres defending Della. No other law has come to assist them but he's well aware of why no one has come and offered a hand.

As they near, gunshots and shouting can be heard. Torres glances back at Sam before they rush to the creek on their horses. Sam's horse is taller and has lanky legs and gains in front of Torres. The creek comes into sight and on the tree line, a tall black horse can be seen tied to a tree.

Sam knows that horse from a mile away. He curses as he throws his cigar down in the dirt and he kicks harder, riding faster ahead leaving Torres far behind. His headache only gets worse as he realizes the day he's about to have. He pulls on the reigns and comes to a stop just before the bank drops straight down to the dry creek bed below.

And down in the rocks stands James Buchanan Barnes. His boot is currently crushing one of the Johnny boys chest as he hovers over them. His long black coat is worn and torn and covers what Sam knows is a full artillery under there. Two of the Johnny boys lay dead and bleeding in the creek bed while the fourth is slowly crawling away leaving a trail of blood along the rocks. The third being under foot.

"BUCKY!"

The man's gaze quickly shoots up and he stands to his full height, reminding Sam why he was such a feared man years ago, still is. His hair is now short from when Sam saw him last but he still carries revolvers and rifles on top of his all black clothing. His left coat sleeve is tied off, a sad reminder of what happened a life time ago.

"Leave the man alone, Buck!" Sam shouts.

"See!" Bucky quickly lands a punch to the man under him, knocking him out cold. "You don't get to call me Buck after all this time!"

"Steve use to call you that!"

Bucky chuckles with a shake of his head and begins walking over to the half dead man. Sam finds a way down to the creek with Torres closely behind. Bucky doesn't seem to notice as he grabs the Johnny Boy and rolls him over. He grabs the front of his shirt with his one hand and pulls him face to face.

"Where is he!?" Bucky seethes.

The Boy wheezes and his eyes are glazed. But he manages to rasp out, "I have not a clue. But- but Seph. Yeah Seph is where we last heard he was but that-" the man coughs out and Bucky flinches back in disgust. "But that was a month ago. Long gone by now."

Bucky throws the man down and reaches for his revolver but Sam is quick to his side. Bucky glances to him before walking away with a scowl on his lips. He feels exposed, not having his long hair or any hat to cover his features.

"Seph? Who's in Seph, Bucky?" Sam asks firmly.

"No, you don't get to play that game, Sam. Come and act like we're good friends again," Bucky snaps.

Sam frowns as he watches the broody man shuffle around the Johnny Boys camp for rations or other things. It's odd, seeing Bucky now. The last time Sam had seen Bucky was last year, and that's when he had convinced the man to stray from the life of an outlaw. Hang his hat from being the Winter Gunslinger. But I guess some habits die hard.

"I'm not asking you as a friend, Bucky. I'm asking you as sheriff. Who's in Seph?" Sam asks, walking over to the man that is knocked out cold.

Bucky doesn't answer as Sam checks the Boys pulse. Still alive. And hopefully with medical care that other Johnny Boy should live.

"Torres can you get these two men on the horses while I have a chat to my good friend here?" Sam tells more than asks, his gaze never leaving Bucky.

He looks sadder, a hollow of a man he once was. Sam almost feels pity for him. Steve wouldn't of wanted what Bucky became, wouldn't like to see this Bucky stand stand before him now. But he can't keep pity for the man when he's responsible for his own actions.

Bucky stands up and turns to Sam with a blank face. "Zemo is in Seph."

Sam almost chokes. "Why are you after, Zemo!?"

Bucky doesn't answer again, only stares. Sam shifts uncomfortably under the gaze and looks over to Torres who is tending to the wound of the fourth Boy. When Sam looks back, Bucky is gone from where he stood and instead he's already halfway up the bank of the creek. For a man with one arm, he climbs up it quickly.

"Torres I need you to look over things for a week," Sam calls back.

Torres perks up and jumbles over his words before spitting out, "Where are you going!?"

"To Seph."

#marvel #tfatws #sam wilson #captain america #thefalconandthewintersoldier #tfatwscowboyau #cowboybucky #bucky barnes #winter solider #cowboysam #zemo

[marquiswrites]

Silk and Steel Ch 30

AO3 Link

Master List

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov, Sam Wilson, OFC/MC

Relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1055

Warnings:  Slight language Author’s Notes: 

Summary:  You meet the next figure in your growing collection of friends, and this one comes with good news.

Chapter 30: The Princess

You woke up wrapped in a new sweater. Taking a deep breath of the heady, now familiar scent and smiling softly to yourself. Your bed was otherwise empty, but you figured that they probably wouldn’t let Bucky stay the night after you had already proven yourself dangerous. You were just glad that he managed to stay until after you had fallen asleep. 

Now drifting on a sort of numbness, nuzzling against the sleeve of your borrowed sweater. Humming softly to yourself as you tried to reclaim the safety of sleep. At least when you were asleep, nothing seemed addled, or out of place. You had dreamt about being back in your shop. Meeting Bucky as just a customer, instead of a ghost from your past. About the way he would smile warmly, playfully, and sweep you from your feet. 

You dreamed about a world where you hadn’t been born to Hydra. 

Where your brother didn’t feel the need to put himself in danger for something that neither of you could have ever controlled.

A world where Bucky had never been hurt… 

A world of impossibilities. 

The thoughts catch in your throat, threatening to shut so tightly that you couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe. The noise inside of your head turning to static, stabbing down through your spine. Carving it’s way into your heart. Breaths barely fluttering in your chest as you squeezed your eyes tight. Curling into a ball, wrapping the sweater around you. 

Safe. 

He was safe.

Your Soldat. 

Your Bucky. 

James.

“What are you doing?!” An unfamiliar accent rings out in the hallway. They must have left the coms on. “Do you have any idea what isolation can do to a situation like this? Do I have to teach you everything?” 

You fight your way through the muddle, trying to force your eyes back open. Peeking out from beneath your lashes towards the door. Flinching as it hissed open. A young woman wearing unfamiliar clothing striding forward, her hair braided, and twisted up into an impossibly thick bun. The warmth of her white clothing only challenged by the warmth of her smile. Frowning to yourself for a moment before doubling over at the twinge of pain through your chest. 

“The white wolf was less stupid than normal, calling me as quickly as he did.” The woman clicked her tongue, tapping her fingers against the bracelet at her wrist. Bringing up a small screen, seemingly from nowhere. “That’s what I thought.” Huffing as she moved to kneel in front of you. Brushing her fingers over your forehead. “You’re going to be alright now. I won’t let that know it all scramble you up any more.”

“I’m a rocket scientist, an engineer, and I’m also dabbling in a few other things. The human condition is not my forte.” Tony’s voice rings out from the doorway before he turned his gaze to you, his expression softening with fondness. “You doing okay there Bunny? The kid says that you’re back with us.”

“Mostly.” You shrug as the young woman continued monitoring her little pop up screen. 

“There, see, a bit of proper interaction and she’s already drawing back out. It looks like they took more care with her than they did Barnes.” Then paused before smiling to you. “I’m Shuri. I’m the one who fixed James’ head. If this idiot didn’t mess you up too badly, we can get you out of here in no time at all.”

You pause a moment. “You… Did… Did you really help him? They can’t…”

“No, they won’t be able to control him any longer. He’s free of them. I made sure of that.” Shuri nodded. 

“Not that we intend to put that to the test.” Tony scoffed softly. Crossing his arms over his chest. Making you giggle, your chest releasing a bit of it’s tension. “There’s my girl. Wondered where you had bounced off to...”

“She’s not your girl, Stark.” Bucky edged his way into the room, moving to take a seat on the edge of the bed. Two steaming mugs in his hands, offering a warmer smile. His hair pulled back into a messy bun to keep it off of his face. Though the sight of strands of it slipping free made you smile brighter for a moment, easing the torn feeling in your throat. 

“Ah, the Manchurian Candidate himself.” Tony rolled his eyes heavily before winking to you. “Don’t know what you see in him, Bunny. Personally I’d like to think you’d go for someone a little more clean cut, what with that shiny reputation of yours… Before the whole murdery Hydra act that you pulled.”

“Ah… Sorry.” You blush softly, turning your gaze to Buck. Offering him a shy smile. “So… Shuri says she can fix me?” Turning an uncertain gaze to the young woman as she pulled away. 

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded, offering you a mug of tea. “Here, it’ll help. Little sister, brought yours as well.”

“Wait… Little sister?” Your brow suddenly furrow into a tightly knit knot, looking between the two of them. Tony echoing the expression, though his was far more surprised than anything. 

“Oh yeah, my mother adopted this white boy faster than I could finish saying his name. He’s an official member of the royal family now. Though honestly, he could pretty much be one of our revered ancestors at this point.” Shuri snickered sharply, dodging the wide slash Bucky had made at her before accepting the mug of tea. Slipping past Tony and back into the hallway. 

“Well then, your highness, and your future highness, why don’t I leave you two lovebirds to have at it. I’ll be helping Shuri with what ever she needs… And to keep her from making any of these improvements she keeps muttering about.” Tony flashed a wry smirk before he was pulling the door shut behind him. 

You giggle quietly, drumming your fingers along the edge of the mug in your hands, reveling in it’s warmth. “So… Royalty? Really? You?” Bucky sputters for a moment before lifting his hand to rub at the back of his neck, flashing a smug smile. His accent thickening for a moment as he leaned in close enough that his lips brushed over the shell of your ear. Whispering teasingly. “Why Doll, you asking if I could make you my princess?”

#Silk and Steel #bucky x Reader #Bucky x You #james buchanan barnes #Steve Rogers #Druid #Enhanced Reader #avengers #post civil war #Marvel Fanfic #Avengers Fanfiction

[chonkychornes]

Open Arms Part 1

Synopsis: You come back broken from a mission, and the one person who could barely put himself back together is the one who is trying to help you.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language? Angst. Smut...eventually. 1 of ? parts. How’s this as a warning: this is my first reader insert fic and it was a challenge, y’all. So, as long as it isn’t the worst thing anyone has ever read, I’m still doing okay! I hope you enjoy it!

Also, this is really for @quant-um-fizzx​ I couldn’t have/wouldn’t have done any of this without her help and guidance. 

You can see the compound as the quinjet hovers for landing and you release the breath you’ve been holding. You can see the small electric cart driving out to meet you, but you can’t bring yourself to release the ramp and walk out. 

After all, 10 months of deep-cover is enough time to make anyone second guess themselves.

 An hour later Steve finally manually overrides the controls and opens the ramp from the outside to find you sitting with your knees drawn up to your chest. You aren’t crying; you haven’t cried since the first week you were gone.

 No, you’re just staring blankly out at nothing, because that’s all you feel now. 

Knowing Steve, you’re sure his first instinct is to lift your body and take you inside, but he seems to think better of it and sits down next to you instead. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body and you focus your eyes enough to see the building in the distance with a few cars littered in front.

And the grass … it’s so green. You haven’t seen any other colors except for black, white, and red for so long that the grass looks odd to you, fake.

 “It’s been a while,” Steve says and deep down inside you want to laugh, but it comes out like a garbled cry.

 “I came back, Captain.”

 He sucks in a breath at the formality. The two of you had been best friends, occasionally lovers. Inseparable in every way until this mission had come around.

 “You did good, kid,” Steve wraps an arm around your shoulders and presses his face to your hair. “Let’s get you home.”

Home.

You don’t know that word anymore, but how can you explain that to the man next to you. The man that gave you a home.

He stands and pulls you up into his arms and carries you past the little cart and all the hundreds of yards from where you landed straight into the medical wing where an anxious-looking team has been waiting. 

Of course, they have a full staff now; it makes perfect sense. You crane your neck over Steve’s shoulder and look around.

 “You know it’s SOP,” he murmurs so quietly to you as he sets down carefully on the examination table. “You have to get cleared after every mission.”

“I want Banner,” your voice is soft but firm. You know him and even if he isn’t a medical doctor, he can clear you just as easily. 

Steve looks to one of the scrub-clad people in the room and everyone clears out except for a single female nurse. You roll your eyes and hear him chuckle about SOP again under his breath. Mere minutes later Bruce walks in looking disheveled accompanied by a long-haired man with piercing blue eyes. 

“I should have been here,” Bruce is sliding his glasses into place and carefully avoiding looking in your direction as you shimmy out of the worn sweatpants and the long sleeve shirt. Steve helps you when you falter and you lock eyes with the blue-eyed man.

 You hear Steve gasp and you know he’s really looking at your body as you sit at the end of the table in nothing more than your underwear.

 Bruises in various shades of green, purple, and yellow are scattered all over your legs, arms, and torso. Old cuts, fresh cuts that have been hastily sewn shut line your arms. 

You start pointing out to Bruce where they planted trackers in you that you removed before making your way to the rendezvous point.

“What are these?” He’s pointing to the wounds where you drew a jagged thread through the torn skin. 

“That’s my intel.” A tear slips down your cheek and Steve wipes it away as the nurse begins to cut out the primitive stitches. 

“You could have found another way. We have dozens of fail-safes.” Steve was pleading with you and you couldn’t understand why.

 “It’s because she can’t feel the pain anymore.” The long-haired man finally speaks from the doorway. He’s been flipping through a file, your file, absently while watching everything with hawk-like eyes. 

He would know how it is to feel the pain resonate deep within your soul as it rattles around in your bones. He would know what it’s like to turn it off, to train your body not to register the pain anymore.

“You’re James.” You’ve never met him, but you know him. Steve never faltered in his devotion to his first best friend.

 “Jesus, nobody calls me that,” his smile is tight, polite. His eyes rake over you, but you can tell he’s taking inventory of all your injuries.

 “You're right, I can’t feel it.” Another tear escapes and this time Bruce grabs your hand and begins to softly ask you questions. When did this start and why? Was it torture or training? Your eyes, now glistening, are still locked with the blue ones as you try to answer. Every question brings more answers and more tears until you’re dried up and shivering. 

You want him, James, to ask you how long it took for you to stop crying in the cells. The sooner you stop crying, the sooner they relent, if only slightly. He knows. 

He slaps the file into Steve’s chest and kicks a small duffle towards him.

 “You know where to find me if you need me,” he offers over his shoulder as he leaves. 

Bruce finally clears you after an MRI and CT scan. You’ve had multiple breaks and fractures, but everything had healed perfectly. Other than looking worse for the wear, you are physically fine, if not a little malnourished and dehydrated. Some rest and regular eating will fix that soon enough. 

He gives you a small smile and escorts the nurse out of the room. Still shivering you look to Steve. Your team leader, your best friend, and once upon a time, your compass.

 “C’mon, you’re freezing,” he grabs your discarded sweats and offers them to you, but you shake your head and push them away.

 “They were hers.” Your eyes land on the bag on the floor and Steve reaches for it to find it filled with clothes from your quarters. 

Steve helps you to strip away the underwear and sports bra and drops them in a heap with the other woman’s clothes. He’ll burn them later if you want. You’ll ask him to.

 You suppose you should be a little upset that a virtual stranger went into your room and rifled through your belongings, but you’re grateful for the comfortable and familiar. Steve helps you dress and asks if you are steady enough to walk. 

You don’t answer because you just aren’t sure. You aren’t sure of anything anymore. He helps you towards the door and when you take a deep breath, he sweeps you up into his arms once again. 

The corridors are dark and quiet. It’s late and not everyone is at the compound. When Steve reaches the door of your quarters you reach down to punch in the code and the door slides open.

Stark had been generous and only teased you two a little when it came to your living arrangements. Not long after you were recruited and you and Steve became so close, you asked for double occupancy quarters. 

Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and communal living spaces. You two had wanted to be close enough to take care of each other and still have the privacy you desired. You’d shared each of your beds with each other when it was necessary. Sometimes the mission didn’t go to plan, sometimes you didn’t get to do the damage you wanted or needed. So you used each other’s bodies to fill the void of what was missing from other places.

 Of course, you didn’t just use each other. 

There was that time after one of Stark’s birthday parties when you dragged that fresh recruit to bed and Steve playfully gave you shit for a week because the poor the kid was terrified to share coffee with Captain America the next morning. 

Or the time that Steve ended up getting dry-humped by some paid intern in a pencil skirt on the couch and you scolded them when you walked by to grab some crackers out of the kitchen. 

You were teammates and friends first. The sex was just sex. You enjoyed the pillow talk that came with it, neither of you felt the need to escape to your respective beds when the tryst was over, choosing instead to snuggle into each other and enjoy the comfort of another being. 

Truth be told, more often than not that’s all you ever did. Just to sleep sheltered and safe with another person. 

So when Steve stepped into your personal room you look up with him with pleading eyes and he smiles down at you and walks directly across the apartment and into his bedroom. 

He set you down gently and you notice that you recognize the scent. The idiot uses Ivory because he always has and it leaves behind a distinctive Steve smell that mixes with his cologne and detergent.

 He flips on the light by the bedside and finds you hunched over and still shivering. You seriously begin to think you’ll never be warm again.

 “Friday? Remind me to make some soup tomorrow,” his voice is a whisper as he runs a hand down your back. 

“You got it, Sir. I’ll load your mother’s recipe into the kitchen for you.” 

He rustles around in his dresser and you watch him change into his own sweats and when he kneels in front of you with a pair of socks in hand, you just stare back at him. 

“I know you hate to wear them to bed, but you’re still cold.” He slips a sock onto each of your feet and then gently drags you up the bed and tucks you in. 

You grab his wrist as he moves to leave, “Please don’t leave.” 

“I’m just getting you some water. Do you want anything else?” 

You shake your head and try to relax into the pillows. It’s just like you remember … you think. The dark slate of the walls, the matching sheets of Egyptian cotton. The small stack of books you left on the nightstand on this side of the bed. 

There are echoes in the room. Echoes of pain, need, and ecstasy. Shadows of the time where you both thought that maybe there was more between you. The relic of those three words linger here and the laughter that followed.

 It’s hard to pinpoint what’s a real memory or something you made up to try to keep your sanity all that time. 

By the time he comes back, your eyes are drooping and you’re reaching for him again. So he slides into the bed next to you and coaxes some water into you. 

You settle into his chest as his hand moves to your hair. It's dirty and tangled, but it doesn’t matter right now. He'll finger comb it all night because he knows you like it. 

“It hasn’t been right here without you.” He sighs against your forehead and the tears come freely then, from both of you. “We were worried when you went dark, that you weren’t coming back.” 

This is it, the moment you were dreading. Because you aren’t who you were when you were prepping for this mission. Something has broken you and broken inside you, and there’s a big chance there isn’t any chance of recovery. 

“Steve, I don’t think all of me made it.”

 In the dark and the quiet compound, Steve clutches you close and takes every sob and scream until your voice is hoarse and you’ve exhausted yourself with your tears.

 Down the hall, the man with the icy blue eyes counts every scream, every hiccup. He’s been there too. He knows the hell you’re going through now, the hell you’ll go through forever if he’s any indication.

 Infiltration and torture are one thing. 

When Hydra does it … they fuck you up for life. 

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series

[writemarvelousthings]

Home Comforts

Name of Piece: Home Comforts Square Filled: Comfort Clothes Rating (General / Teen ) Warnings: Insecure Bucky, lots and lots of fluff! Summary: You’re a witty, charming and brilliant writer at the peak of your career. He’s a slightly overweight kindergarten teacher who has to pinch himself daily that a guy like him landed a girl like you. Especially when you insist on wearing his oversize sweatshirt. Created for @buckybarnesbingo A/N: I have a secret confession in that I love love LOVE Chubby!Bucky and the idea of him as a kindergarten teacher has me swooning! So I thought this square would be perfect for me to indulge myself, I hope you all enjoy! Tagging those who might like this! @bucky-plums-barnes @cametobuyplums @propertyofpoeandbucky @abovethesmokestacks

Gif not mine!

Bucky didn’t think he would be as lucky a second time around, after the fiasco with Dot. Bucky had resigned himself that he would live the rest of his life out in solitude, convincing himself he had some of the greatest friends a guy could ask for. That he loved his job, like. Seriously loved it, each day Bucky looked forward to the eager faces of his class. The amusing questions he would later tell Steve and Natasha over a beer on Nat’s balcony. That those kids didn’t care that he had a little extra around the middle, not when he brought in a large box of doughnuts on the last Friday of every month. No, Bucky had convinced himself that he was happy with his life. Then he met you.

Younger, talented, with a carefree breeze and a dazzling smile that left Bucky breathless and slightly weak at the knees as you grasped his hand in yours shaking it firmly. It took everything he had not to crumble into a stuttering mess in front of you and Principal Hill. You were there to write a piece on the school and its achievements and contribution to the community but all Bucky could think of was you in that damn sky blue dress. He tried to focus on his day, trying to convince his class that subtraction wasn’t that difficult than addition, then you wandered into his classroom with a warm kind smile that ignited a fire in his belly and the rest was history.

A first date that had him sweating in anticipation, the cold tendrils of self doubt curling around his mind like thick molasses. Waiting outside your apartment door clutching the bouquet of sunflowers, second-guessing the brightness of the petals wondering if roses would have been more appropriate. But the pure joy that bloomed across your face when you saw him snuffed out any negative thoughts Bucky had. One date turned into two, then three. Soon Bucky found himself waking up with you beside him more often than not, pet names like sweetheart and babydoll poured from his lips freely and unabashedly.

“You’re smitten with her” Nat commented one night, he had brought you over to meet his two closest friends and to get their support and, admittedly. To show you off, you had bonded with Steve over an artist Bucky had no idea about but it caused Steve to light up like a Christmas tree causing Natasha to grin fondly at her fiance. You insisted to help Natasha in the kitchen, questions of how the other woman had started up her own self-defence gym and that you’d love to write a piece about it and the importance it was that woman knew about the small little gym in queens cause Natasha to gape at you. It was a rare treat to see the red-headed Russian lost for words. One that Bucky watched with amusement from the kitchen bench.

“I’m not smitten” A perfectly plucked red brow arched back at him, the two of them stood side by side in the kitchen clearing the last of the dishes away as you and Steve stood out on the balcony red wine swirling in crystal glass as the sunset bathed you in an ethereal glow. Clearing his throat he looked back at Natasha who pursed her lips in amusement.

“Right, you just give her long wistful looks. Smile when she laughs and constantly look in her direction when you think no one notices. But sure, not smitten at all”

“Fuck off” he gruffed, throwing a tea towel at one-half of his best friends to distract her from the growing hot redness spreading across his cheeks.

“Nice, you teach those rugrats that kinda thing. But seriously James, I’m happy for you” Bucky arched his own brow back at Natasha.

“You haven’t been this happy since you got that teaching job and I can tell she brings out a confidence in you that we all thought was long gone. She’s a great girl, don’t let your insecurities get in the way”

Don’t let his insecurities get in the way, easier said than done. He was thirty-six, unmarried slightly overweight kindergarten teacher and you. You were like sunshine, blazing bright and free, unencumbered with any thoughts of doubt or self-consciousness that he experienced. Bucky often looked in the mirror and wondered what you saw in him, why you chose him. But he tried to do as Nat told him, he adored you and he was sure you felt the same way. Why else would you elect to stay at his apartment while he was at work?

The day had been long, filled with moments of laughter at the sight of Peter and Ned trying to build a spaceship out of small building blocks. And fondness as he graciously accepted a drawing from Michelle who had depicted him on top of a mountain with the words “Gratest techer in the wowld” The spelling needing some improvement but the sentiment made Bucky’s heart sing. He was eager to share the drawing with you and place it with others littering his study walls from students from of the past. Wanting to tell you how small little Shuri was one, if not the smartest little girl he had ever met. Slipping his key into the lock he was about to announce his arrival but the sight of you made his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth.

You were sat on the couch, legs tucked underneath you as you absentmindedly chewed on the end of your pen. The mundane innocent position shouldn’t have made Bucky's head spin, but everything about you made Bucky weak.

“Hey there Mr Barnes” the smirks on your lips and the light suggestive tone almost made Bucky’s heart give out, but there was one detail on your body that he couldn’t get past.

“Is that my sweater?” he all but yelled at you, taken aback you looked down at the navy sweater. The sleeves were pushed up to your elbows, there was a hole in the seam of the collar exposing the patch of your skin beneath it. Bucky winced at just how old that sweater was and the multitude of stains down the front of it. A flash of hot embarrassment coursed down Bucky spine as he realised that it hadn't been washed in an embarrassingly amount of time that he would never admit too. Bucky was suddenly torn simultaneously wanting to burn that god damn sweater and see you wear nothing else ever again.

“Oh yeah, it was on the back of your desk chair and I got cold. You don’t mind do you?” Did he mind? It took all of his self-control not to drag you back to the bedroom to pick up where he’d left off this morning before you had reminded him he had twenty little people he was responsible for today.

“Nnn..no it’s just... I would have washed it if I’d had know..” rubbing the back of his neck trying to push down the hot flashes of embarrassment.

“I don’t mind, it smells like you” a simple statement, an innocent declaration that caused you to push up from the couch and into Bucky’s arms. You hands pressed gently against Bucky’s soft middle, an action that would have made Bucky squirm and shy away. In the fading days of his and Dot’s relationship, she would never have so readily sought out affection. Bucky always found himself chasing the redhead like a lost puppy, one of the many reasons she called it off between them. Along with his physique and lack of self-confidence the catalyst for their broken relationship. But here you were, in his arms. In his sweatshirt, in his apartment.

“How’d I get so damn lucky?” Bucky breathed, nudging his nose against yours gently earning a soft giggle as you press yourself into him more.

“You’re lucky you have such comfortable clothes Mr Barnes” a flash of remembering Bucky thrust the piece of paper into your hands. Biting his lip as that bright joyous smile spread across your face.

“I take it back, those kids are the lucky ones. They do have the greatest teacher in the world”

“Only cause I have the greatest girlfriend to come home to” a sharp snort of laughter through your nose followed by the words suspiciously sounding like ‘smart ass’ causes Bucky to grin. Dipping down he presses a firm kiss to your lips, then two more for good measure. The burst of affections makes you giggle, squirming in his hold slightly. Causing one of the sleeves of his sweater to fall down over your hand as you push against his chest.

“Alright Romeo, why don’t you hang this up with the others and I’ll get dinner started”

“You really are the woman of my dreams” A swift shove to his chest has him chuckling as you retreat to the kitchen throwing a smirk at him, the sweater slightly falling over your shoulder adding another reason Bucky wanted to chase after you. But he didn’t, there would be plenty of time for that later. Smoothing out the piece of paper Bucky makes sure it can be seen in the ever-growing wall of pictures and letters he had accumulated over the years. Each one reminding him that he was worth the happiness he felt, the biggest remind currently humming a nameless tune in his kitchen and for the first time. In a very long time, Bucky felt loved.

#buckybarnesbingo2019 #bbb19 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #chubby!bucky #teacher!bucky x reader #chubby!bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #winter solder x reader #my writing

[clemanime]

Buck

A/N: Soooo... here I am... back and ready to give you everything you want. I will try my best to update stuff. Also I’m coming out with some series cause why the fuck not? Hope you ready.

Warning: Smut boom

Bucky runs into an old friend he met on the run and they… catch up

Boom

An explosion sounded down the road. She shot up from her desk, rushing towards the fire alarm and pulling it. “Everybody out!” She yelled at the top of her lungs. “Don’t panic! Don’t trample people! Be safe and get out!” She continued.

Another explosion went off, shaking the place as fire rushed through the office. She held her hands up, forming a wall of energy to stop the flames. “Get out!” She yelled. She kept the fire at bay as she rushed down the stairs. The building would have tumbled if she wasn’t using her powers. When people made it safely out she ran out quickly. She got everyone across the street and away from the crumbling building. There was another explosion and she put her hands up, keeping it contained so that it didn’t harm anyone else. When it died down she put her hands down, huffing. That took a lot out of her.

On the rooftop of the nearest building there were three men standing watching her. “Take her now while she’s weak.” The one standing in the middle said. “Be careful. She still has power left.”

     “Yes sir.” The ones on the ground said in unison.

Back on the ground four men moved towards the crowd of people watching as the police and firefighters arrive. They each separated, making sure to stay within the crowd and stay hidden.

She stood in the road, waving down the officers. One of the men rushed from the crowd towards her, pulling gun and pointing it at her. He shot and she put her hands up, forming a forcefield around herself as more shots rang out. Each of the men reloaded at different times, alternating between her and the police officers that were on the scene.

     “Take her now!” Their boss yelled into the intercoms.

One of the men walked towards her, holding up a different gun as he aimed it at her. She kept her shield up, feeling safer. But the ammunition was different, a recreated bullet. He pulled the trigger and it penetrated her field, shattering it and hitting her hip. She gasped, letting out a scream of pain.

     “Grab her and get out of there! The A-” Static

The men on the ground looked up at the building, not being able to see them from their spot. “Sir?” No response. “Sir?”

     “I’ll give you the option of walking away. Walk away and leave the woman. Or stay and see what happens.” A voice said behind him.

A taller gentleman stood behind the man. He wore a black long sleeve with one of the sleeves missing so that his metal arm could move around freely. He wore black cargo pants and laced up combat boots. He glared at the man, punching him with his metallic arm and sending him back.

The other men sprung into action, going to reload their weapons but she held her hand out, breaking them apart. She groaned, shaking her head and looked at Bucky as he engaged in battle.

As they fought another man rushing up to her. “Don’t worry Miss.” He said as he picked her up. He has dirty blonde hair and a full beard. She kept her eyes on Bucky, hoping that he would be alright.

     “You’re just going to leave him there?” She asked, looking at Bucky as he managed to fend off the three men he was fighting.

     “I think he’ll be able to handle himself.” Steve smirked. He carried her to a truck, placing her in the back seat and closing the door. She hadn’t noticed the person in the driver seat. A random man in a nice suit. He started driving, the ride silent.

Bucky was struggling, his head pounding from his hangover. One of the men managed to get the jump on him, wrapping his arm around his neck and squeezing. “Need help?” Steve asked as he walked up towards them.

     “What do you think!?” Bucky yelled as he struggled. He flipped the guy off of his back and into the guy rushing him. There were only two left, he should be able to take them out easily. Steve walked towards him with a smirk, taking the somewhat smaller one and headbutting him. He looked at his friend and smirked, crossing his arms.

Bucky managed to get him on the ground, pinning him and pulling his knife out. He twirled it in his hand before pressing it against his neck. “Start talking.” He stated.

She laid in the bed, staring at the ceiling. She sighed, shaking her head and holding her hands up. She tried to conjure a small sphere but got nothing. She sat up, wincing but shaking it off and concentrated. “Come on...” She sighed. “Come on.” She got nothing. She got up, walking over towards the small dresser with pain medication on it and tried to lift it with her energy.

     “What are you doing?” She jumped, bumping into it and letting out a pained holler. “Jesus Christ!” Bucky rushed towards her, grabbing her arms. “What the Hell?” Bucky wore a black t-shirt and a pair of cargo pants, still wearing his combat boots.

     “You can’t just pop up out of no where.” She said quickly. “I was trying to use my powers.” She blinked for a moment, clearing her throat and looking down as she crossed her arms. “I didn’t expect you to actually show up today.”

     “You should be resting.” He stated quickly. “Lay down.”

     “Buck.” She sighed as she shook her head. “I can’t be here. You know that.”

     “Just stay for a little. At least until you're healed.” Bucky crossed his arms as he stared at her then motioned towards the bed. “I’ll handcuff you if I have to.”

     “It’s not like you haven’t done it before.” She sat on the bed. She was referring to the night that he handcuffed her to his bed because she wouldn’t take the night off after being beaten up by a group of men. She wanted to go back out and find them but he wouldn’t let her. “I don’t get it.” She held her hand up, trying to get pain meds float to her but nothing happening. She gave up and shook her head.

     “Did they get the bullet out?” Bucky sat next to her, arms crossed, muscles flexed.

     “Yeah.” She nodded, laying back. “It hurt like Hell.”

     “That’s usually what happens when you get shot.” He smirked. “So these guys that you told me about that time... they were after you again.”

     “Seems like it.” Bucky nodded, looking over her. “I don’t get it through. Why can’t I use my powers? It was the first time my shield was broken Buck.”

     “The bullet they took out of you. The guys after you made it so that they would be able to use it on you.” He explained, repeating what he was told. “Apparently there was a lot of trial and error when making those bullets.”

     “Trial and error.” She repeated. There was a silence between them as she let the information sink in. “So I won’t be able to get my powers back.” She sat up, looking at him.

     “I don’t know.” He crossed his arms as he looked back at her. “Banner should be able to tell you later I guess.”

     “Well... that’s a bummer.” She put her face in her hands. “I didn’t rely on my powers that much but it feels shitty knowing that I won’t be able to use them when the time comes.”

     “I get it.” He nodded. “Maybe you should leave it to the professionals though.” He continued. “I don’t need you getting hurt because you think you’re a hero.”

     “Wow.” She scoffed, standing up. “I’m doing more than you guys. Showing up when there’s a body count and taking out the bad guys.” She crossed her arms as she stood in front of him. “I’m tired of you Barnes! You’ve never had faith in me! It’s always ‘let the professionals handle it’. ‘Maybe you should rest.’ ‘Don’t go back out there.’” She rolled her eyes, stepping closer to him. “I chose not to be an Avenger because I don’t want to be tied down to a team that shows up late. A team that shows up after people die or get hurt.”

Bucky stared up at her, taking in her words. But he didn’t speak. “We’re doing more than you think.” He mumbled. “We brought everyone back. Stopped Thanos. We did a lot to save the world.”

     “I know. I was there.” She huffed.

     “You don’t have to join us. Just... don’t do anything crazy.” He stood up, pulling her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around his waist, closing her eyes and taking him in. “I don’t want you getting hurt anymore.”

     “I’m always going to get hurt. I’m a moving target you know.” She let him go, looking up at him and grabbing his metal hand. “Just like you were.” He hummed in response. She moved around him so she could leave but Bucky stopped her, grabbing her hand and pulling her back against his body. “Buck...” She shook her head. “Remember what happened last time?”

     “I thought it was pretty exciting.” He chuckled as he cupped her cheek.

     “Nearly breaking your new arm was exciting to you?” She questioned as his hand slowly moved down her back. She shivered, letting out a shaky breath. She closed her eyes, gripping his shirt as she shook her head. “Buck...” She looked up at him, moving her hands so that they were on his neck. She pulled him down, kissing his lips.

Bucky picks her up, sitting her on the dresser as he tugged at her clothes. Her tattered clothes were now torn and on the floor, her body covered with his as he pulled his shirt off. He adjusted her hips, playing her clit and pulling silent moans from her lips. She looked into his blue eyes, staring up at him as she felt her climax slowly building. “B-Buck.” She shook slightly.

     “I know Doll.” He smirked as he pushed his fingers inside of her. She mewled, opening her legs wider as his warm fingers expertly worked her closer to her climax. She bit his shoulder to keep from screaming as her body shook violently with her peak.

Her body went limp and she sighed, looking at him as she licked her lips. Bucky made work of his pants but a knock on the door stopped him. “What is it?” She asked, keeping Bucky in front of her in case the person walked in.

     “It’s Banner. I wanted to talk to you about your blood work.” Bruce said through the door.

She pouted, wanting to continue but ultimately sighing. “You gonna move?” She whispered but he didn’t budge. “Buck...” She leaned her head to the side but he cupped her cheek with a smirk. “Bucky...” She bit her bottom lip. He undid his pants, pulling his member out. “James I need to talk to Banner.”

     “Then talk.” He smirked. She couldn’t find a hint of joking in his eyes, the head of his cock pressed against her entrance.

     “Uh.. go ahead.” She said to Banner.

     “You want me to tell you through the door?” He questioned.

     “Yeah.” She bit her bottom lip as Buck slowly pushed into her, staring into her eyes. She dug her nails into his shoulders, shaking her head as she tried to keep her moans in.

     “Alright.” Bruce spoke. “Well it looks like you’ve still got your powers. But they’re weak right now because of the bullet.” Bucky thrust his hips at a quick place, pulling a yelp from her as she bit him. “Are you alright?”

     “Y-yeah.” She said quickly. “I’m o-okay.” She looked at Bucky, narrowing her eyes only to close them when he continued to thrust his hips.

     “You’ll get your powers back eventually. When? I’m not sure.”

Bucky pushed her legs farther apart, hitting deep inside of her and causing her to gasp. “I-Is that all!?” She questioned as her hands moved to Bucky’s waist.

     “That’s pretty much it.” Bruce confirmed. “If you need anything just let us know.”

Bucky hit her sweet spot, pulling loud pleasured moans from her. “I noticed you got more excited when you were talking to him.” He held her ankles, adjusting her so that her feet were on the dresser as he pounded into her. “You like nearly being caught?” She felt the bandage shift and a dull pain coursing through her.

     “Fuck... Bucky.” She felt her climax building as she closed her eyes, staring at him as her body quaked. She shook violently, her body leaning forward as she clung to him. Bucky pulled out of her, his seed spilling on her heat as the head of his member rubbed against her heat as they both road out their highs. “Nice.” She smirked. Bucky grabbed part of her torn clothes, cleaning her up.

Bucky picked her up, laying her on the bed and kissing the top of her head. He covered her up. “I’ll get you some clothes.” He put his shirt back on and reached for the door but it was slammed shut. He looked back at her with a smirk. “Looks like you got your groove back.” He smirked.

     “I did.” She nodded. “And I’m all healed up so come here.” She sat up, beckoning for him to get closer to her as she licked her lips. “Come on James.” She taunted. Bucky smirked, stripping himself of his clothes as he sauntered over to her.

#smut #bucky barnes smut #Bucky Barnes #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #masterlist #main masterlist

[bucklikethedollar]

home

Bucky had known that Steve was Steve since the tenth grade. Steve, Sadie then, had pulled Bucky into a back alley on their way back from school.

“Bucky, I gotta tell you something.” His voice was hushed and urgent and shaky and not at all hiding the lump in his throat.

“Oh God, Sadie, is it another diagnosis? Is this one fatal??” Bucky started to sweat, genuinely expecting to hear his best friend’s expiration date.

“No, God no, Buck. Chrissakes.” He forced out a chuckle. “Listen. You- you gotta stop calling me Sadie. It ain’t right. I ain’t Sadie.”

Bucky furrowed his brow. “What’re you trying to say, Sa-” he stopped himself and paused, “...friend?”

Steve took a deep breath and sighed it out. “Jesus. Look, the- the dresses, the makeup, this goddamn hair,” he motioned to the blonde ringlets hanging from his head, “they ain’t me. I ain’t a dame, Buck. Every sick, crippled bone in my body is tellin’ me that livin’ as a girl, or woman, or whatever, is wrong. I’m s’posed to be like you. I’m s’posed to be a man.” Steve was clenching his fists by his sides, avoiding eye contact with his best friend. The way he was shaking with fear or anger or whatever it was made his light blue dress flutter around his knees.

“Fuck’s sake.” Bucky turned away for a moment, running one hand through his hair, resting the other on his hip. “Um, uh…”

“Steve.” He had never said it out loud before, but it felt warm and soft on his lips.

“Steve.” Bucky sighed before continuing. “Okay, um, if you’re not a dame, then I guess you’re not a dame.” Steve finally brought his his head up to look into Bucky’s deadly blue eyes, brow rumpled above in sympathy. “You’re still my best friend Sa- no, Steve.”

Steve relaxed his fists and looked down at his feet, then up at the grey Brooklyn sky, exhaling tightly through his mouth. When he looked back at Bucky his eyes were very obviously watering. “Thank you.” His voice cracked. Bucky flung one arm above Steve’s left shoulder, and wrapped the other below his right armpit, holding him tighter than he’d ever been held before.

In the five years since Steve’s confession, he’d cut his hair, moved in with Bucky on the other side of Brooklyn, and started wearing his hand-me-downs. Shirts and trousers and shoes from at least ten years ago that only barely fit Steve’s slender and unfortunately feminine frame. Steve loved wearing Bucky’s old clothes, it was like finally going home after a lifetime of not knowing what or where home was, but they showed him off in all the wrong places. The shirt hung off his shoulders and the sleeves ended far beyond his wrists, the pants made a travesty of his already wide hips and pooled around the shoes that he had to stuff with newspapers. They couldn’t afford a tailor.

Thankfully, the economy was still bad enough that it wasn’t uncommon for two young men to board together. Their landlady did think it rather odd how often one of them needed a new mattress, or one would push the other into their flat as fast as possible, shutting the door behind them not quite fast enough to cut off their giddy laughter, but she shrugged it off as youthful rambunctiousness, and hardly gave it another thought.

Blissfully revelling in their proprietress’ ignorance, the two would smother each other in kisses, tender and violent and urgent all at once, hiding themselves and their secrets from the world in their tiny suite, hushing each other with poignant caresses and thirsty embraces, vowing never, ever to let each other go.

And then James Barnes was drafted. Dragged by the collar into a war other men started, forced to leave warmth and comfort and home in his past. Bucky and Steve spent their last night together wrapped in each other. No kissing, no sex, just holding each other. Each of them cherishing the warmth the other provided, knowing that once it was gone, they’d be colder than ever, but clinging onto the last few moments of heat and love before they had an ocean planted between them.

Steve wasn’t drafted. He enlisted. Voluntarily, of his own free will. By Abraham Erskine. His thick syrupy accent had intrigued Steve since the moment he stepped into the examination room, ready for his sixth rejection. But the man behind those round glasses enthralled him with his offer of a chance, however miniscule, in helping the American cause. As exciting as the whole ordeal was, Steve had to be Sadie again. Erskine had found his original birth certificate and medical records and insisted that if this agreement were to proceed, Sadie would leave all pretenses of masculinity behind. He had to be her again.

His bones were on fire. White light was bleeding in through his tightly closed eyelids, burning his eyes while he screamed. He was being pulled and compressed and torn open and forced shut all within an instant. He heard Erskine’s muffled orders to abort the experiment.

“No!” The word burst through him like a cannonball, the pain and heat bubbling through his body shot it out through his mouth with force and volume he’d never felt himself conjure. “I can do this!” He didn’t entirely believe himself, but he had to prove that Erskine’s trust was not misplaced. He had been told that this procedure would make him more. More good, or more bad, or more whatever was inside him. For Steve that could mean more sick. More small. More terrified. He certainly felt terrified as his body was squeezed like an orange and then pulled taught like fresh saltwater taffy.

Through the din of his agony rattling about his brain, he heard the machine whirr as it powered down. The pain stopped and Steve took a deep breath. He took a deep breath. All the way through his lungs, smoothly through his windpipe, and flowing to every inch of his sore body. The steam that had accumulated within the pod floated to the ground as the pod’s doors opened. He relished in the cool air now surrounding him. The only thing that prompted him to open his eyes was the thunderous gasp that seemed to come from every person in the facility.

“I did it.” He forced the words through his throat, but it wasn’t his voice. It rumbled in his chest and the deep timbre settled beneath him, giving him shivers.

Everyone hesitated to even breathe. Dr. Erskine managed to speak: “You did it.” Peggy approached him, and he couldn’t read her face, just acknowledged her furrowed brow and her mouth hanging agape. She looked him up and down. “How do you feel?” Her voice was weak and contemplative.

“Taller.” There was that voice again, resonating from deep within him and pouring out of his mouth like mist, vibrating in his throat. He finally looked down. He was….. him. His body rolled and rippled below him, like a photograph of a great wave, frozen in time, three dimensional and elevated. His chest was square, shoulders broad and intimidating, even to him, and his abdomen narrowed down to thin hips. He noticed a new presence between his legs and his stomach dropped. He looked at his hands, large and strong, reaching up to touch his face, finding a sharp jawline above a pronounced Adam’s apple.

He didn’t get a chance to examine himself more. There was an explosion, and then Erskine’s body, and then the taxi, and the boy in the water, and hail HYDRA.

He sat in the examination room after the nurse had left with his blood samples. They had given him the luxury of a full-length mirror leaning against the wall, and allowed him to examine himself in peace. Indulging in his own vanity, Steve admitted to himself that he resembled one of those ancient sculptures of Greek gods. Muscular and expansive. He closed his eyes and felt himself occupy this body. He took his shirt off and ran his hands over all the curves and canyons of his new body. Where his breasts previously fell were now square and solid pectorals, residing above distinct abs. He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling pressure against his sides as muscle collided with muscle. He squeezed his vast shoulders and slid his hands down to his narrow hips, which lead into thick, sturdy thighs. In between those thighs was something he had never even dreamed of, never allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy of his very own masculinity. Real, tangible, large masculinity.

He was overwhelmed. Eyes still shut, tears drifted down his angular, yet still familiar, face. He allowed himself a deep whimper as his arms wrapped themselves around his biceps once again, taking deep breaths and enjoying the oxygen now completely filling his lungs.

He hadn’t noticed Peggy walk in until she put his hand on his wide back, tender, yet almost fearful. “Sadie….” her voice was thick and wet. “Sadie, I’m so sorry. If I had known this would happen I never would have let you do this.” She stifled a sob as Steve opened his eyes, still just as blue as the day he confided in Bucky, and turned to face her. “I- I need you to know that you’re still the same beautiful woman in my eyes, Sadie. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Now it was her turn to hug herself as tears streamed down her delicate face, now wrinkled into the paragon of sorrow. Steve didn’t know how to tell her.

“No.” His voice rumbled through him like a car engine.

“Wh-what?”

“No. Don’t be sorry. I’m not. Sorry. Listen.” He wet his lips and his eyes darted every which way. “This is… me. I was always s’posed to be this, don’t you see? The serum was supposed to make more of what was already there. I’ve been a man for as long as I can remember, only now everyone else can see it too. I never thought I’d be able to look in the mirror and be happy with what I saw.” He turned back toward the mirror. “I’ve had dreams where I would wake up and be a real man, go about my business ‘n have everyone call me ‘sir’. And now I’m not dreaming. I’m looking at myself and seeing me.” He knew Peggy didn’t understand. Her mouth was hanging open, eyebrows curling up toward her forehead, hand resting on her heart. “I’m sorry.” Steve got up and headed out the door into the crowded hallway.

“Sadie, wait-” Steve stopped dead in his tracks and whirled around to face her.

“I never thought I’d be able to tell anyone this.” He chuckled and clicked his tongue. “My name…. is Steve. Steven Grant Rogers. I have never been Sadie.”

“S- Steve…” she was shaking. “What are you doing to do?”

He walked toward her and covered her in a strong embrace, his head resting on someone else’s for once. “I am going to live, and be happy, and change my name, and be in love with myself. I am going to be more myself than I have ever been before.”

Steve sat at the piano in the church they had requisitioned for barracks. He hadn’t played since his mother died. He laid his long fingers on the keys and took a breath before he began singing. His fingers could finally reach all the keys in the chords he played.

“We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when. But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day…” He was probably singing a whole octave below where he used to, his new baritone range sinking onto the marble floors of the church and evaporating into the arched ceiling above. He stopped and let it echo. He hoped they would meet again. And they would.

Steve saw Bucky lying on a metal table in the middle of a damp, empty room.

“Barnes… Sargeant…. 32557….. Barnes…” He had obviously been drugged.

“Bucky!” As Steve ran toward his friend, his heart rose to his throat and his stomach dropped to the floor. Bucky would finally be able to see his Stevie the way he had always wanted to see himself. But what if he was unrecognizable? What if Bucky didn’t like all the muscles and the strength? What if he only called Steve Steve throughout their affair because he wanted to maintain access to his feminine body, and now that he didn’t have that anymore, he would be disgusted? Bucky hardly responded until Steve reached him.

“Bucky, oh my God.” Steve held Bucky’s face in his hands while he stared into Steve’s new face, clearly having trouble comprehending the situation. “It’s me, it’s Steve.” His fear solidified into a sturdy lump in his throat.

Bucky took a moment. “Steve?” Steve sighed like he had never sighed before. He was recognizable.

“I thought you were dead.” Steve helped his friend to his feet.

Whatever drugs they had given Bucky were evidently very strong, as Bucky only replied with “I thought you were smaller. What happened to you?”

“I joined the Army.”

“Is it permanent?”

Steve felt a grin spread across his face. “So far.”

Captain America had only just gotten out of the shower when Bucky came into his tent. Steve was wearing a t-shirt and camo pants, and his hair was dripping wet. Once again, a tidal wave of anxiety rose in his chest.

“Hey.” Steve set down his towel and slowly approached his friend.

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Disoriented I guess. But I feel like I should ask you how you’re feeling.”

“Steve chuckled and leaned his back against a post, crossing his hands in front of him. “It’s been… it’s been a lot to get used to.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“That day, sophomore year, when you told me that every bone in your body was telling you you were s’posed to be a man. Is this what you meant? Is this who you’re supposed to be?”

Steve hesitated. That was a tough question. “I- I think so. I never really had a clear image of what I thought I should’ve looked like. It was always just me as I was, but with no tits and a better jaw.” Bucky smiled. “When I stepped outta the pod I was in when this all happened, I didn’t really even notice it at first. I just thought I was taller. I really only had a moment or two to take a look at myself before the explosion. Afterwards though, I had some time alone with a mirror and slowly I managed to fit into this body. I recognized that my reflection actually was my reflection, not just a moving picture. To be honest, it still surprises me when I wake up. I always expect to open my eyes and be 5’4” and skinny again. But I’m always so happy when I see this. It’s like I’m finally me, after all these years.”

Bucky paused and stepped closer to Steve. “I- I like your voice now. I mean, I liked it before, but now it sounds like the voice matches the words.” Bucky examined him. “Can I- can I see?” He gestured vaguely to Steve. Steve stood up, confused, and slowly took his shirt off. Bucky breathed him in. He looked up at Steve’s face (he would never get used to having to look up at Steve) with inquisitive eyes. Steve nodded, and Bucky raised his right hand and settled it on top of Steve’s left pec.

“It’s like… It’s like I’m seeing you for the first time. Not some poor kid in my clothes, but you.” Bucky circled his right hand onto Steve’s bicep and couldn’t help but squeeze, making Steve smile the same smile he’d had in tenth grade. Bucky’s left hand reached onto his abs, making sure to feel each crevice, each tendon beneath the skin. He lifted his hands off Steve just barely and circled around to see his back, rolling and dipping like the ocean in a storm. For the first time in his life, Bucky couldn’t see bones sticking up under Steve’s skin. Instead, there was solid, round muscle covering every area possible. Bucky circled back around to face Steve, who brought his hands up onto Bucky’s shoulders the way Bucky’s were already on his.

“Steve. We’ve been… something for a long time now. Up there, at Azzano, you were all I could think about, you were what kept me going. All those nights spent in our apartment in secret, I thought that was as good as it was ever gonna get. Looking at you now, is so… different though.” Steve’s heart dropped to his feet and he felt his mouth open, expecting rejection. “I still see your eyes storing everything to sketch later, and your nose is still crooked from all the times you didn’t know to leave a fight. And now I get to look up at you, and spread my arms just to touch both of your shoulders, and it’s like I don’t have to be scared for you anymore. I’m…. I-”

Steve couldn’t take it anymore. He cupped Bucky’s jaw with his right hand, placing his left on the small of his back, pressing their lips together like a jigsaw puzzle that had been missing a piece for years. Bucky grabbed Steve’s face, taking in the strong jaw, the Adam’s apple, relishing in tilting his head back to look up at him. Steve wrapped his strong arms completely around Bucky, squeezing and holding on for dear life, almost afraid he would hurt Bucky with the strength he didn’t quite know how to control yet. But Bucky let out the faintest moan and pressed himself further into Steve’s new stature, allowing himself to let down the guards he had built up in the previous months. Steve opened his eyes, and parted from Bucky, just far enough to see his whole face, still close enough to feel his breath on his chin.

“You are you breathtaking to me.” Steve cupped Bucky’s face again. “I have missed your face… so much. I’ve missed your lips and your voice and your cheeks and your eyebrows and every little thing about you and I’m never going to let you go again.”

Bucky blushed and gazed into Steve’s blue eyes. “I- I think everyone’s probably asleep by now. No one would notice…” Steve read his mind, and guided Bucky toward his cot. They sat down, not daring to break contact at all.

“Yknow, Bucky, the serum, it…” Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand and gaze down sheepishly between his own legs.

“No shit.” Bucky grinned. “Oh my god. You lucky son of a bitch.” Steve guided Bucky’s hand toward his lap as they made excited eye contact, both new to the sensation of the mass in Steve’s pants. They pressed their lips together once again, never stopping kissing, even as they both undressed.

They were finally at home.

#trans steve rogers #trans!steve rogers #trans!steve #steve rogers #bucky barnes #james barnes #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers/bucky barnes #ftm #captain america #project rebirth #mlm

[cchellacat]

I Just Fucking Love You

Love All The Marvel Ships Challenge 

Day Four ~ On A Date

"C'mon Doll, we gotta run."  He held her hand, pulling her along as they bolted.  Darcy wasn't sure how she kept up, only knew that if they stopped, they were dead, so she forced herself to move.  She stifled the shriek she felt as he hoisted her into the air and up onto a metal platform.  She felt sick from running and took deep lungfuls of the cold night air, forcing the nausea down, then biting her lip till it almost bled.

It had all started out really well.  There had been flowers when he picked her up at the door, he had offered his arm and escorted her to the car.  They’d had dinner in a wonderful restaurant and she had been looking forward to the dancing all night, her feet tapping under the table until he’d caught her feet between his legs and started playing footsie, that part had been fun.

Things had went downhill on the way to dance club.  The sudden appearance of a red dot on his chest had her yelp as she tried to get him to move.

Bucky had been fast after that, getting them both out of sight line, that was when they’d noticed the van’s drawing up and the armed men being disgorged from the dark depths.

Then all they had done was run.   Up one street, down an alley, over a fence…  if she ever had to run for her life again she was wearing sneakers.  She’d lost both heels along the way and her stockings were torn and the soles of her feet ached.

Currently they were half way up a fire escape, waiting to see if their pursuers would give them up for lost.

He was holding her close, both his arms around her as they pressed deep into the shadows.  She could feel herself shaking, desperately trying to catch her breath from the near panic attack that was threatening.  If they got out of this alive she was never leaving the tower again without a security escort and a taser.  She could feel the cold seeping into her from where she stood on the metal grating.  One of his hands cradled the back of her neck, his thumb gently stroking behind her ear as she buried her face in his jumper.  The beat of her heart echoed loudly in her ears as she clenched her teeth tightly, willing the shaking and chattering to stop.

“Darcy…  They’re not gonna stop till they have me.  There’s too many of them, sweetheart.  I’m putting you in danger like this.”

His harsh whisper was full of apologetic agony.  What was he saying?

“No… no, don’t you dare…  what if they find me anyway?  You can’t just give yourself up.”  Her fists clenched in the soft wool as she hissed her denial.

“I’m sorry, Doll.  Now listen to me okay?”

“No…  you can’t…Bucky..”

“Please sweetheart, please just do what I say…  I couldn’t live with it if I got you killed, it would destroy me Darcy.”  He pled, pressing  kisses into the crown of her head.

“But….”

“Please, Darcy”

Darcy felt the tears welling in her eyes as she finally accepted what was happening.  No, no it was so unfair, why now?  Things were good, they were good.  They had clicked with each other right away.  As soon as they had met over a year ago, it had been as though her life suddenly just fitted into place, a place right beside him.  They’d only been dating officially for a few months, but it was really working between them.  He was so much better than he had been, he’d made so much progress after the shit he’s been through…  she rested her head on his chest and nodded reluctantly.

“Okay…  okay, what’s the plan?”  she breathed out as he relaxed a little in relief.

“I’m gonna lead them off, you stay here, you don’t move, don’t make a sound.  Stay as long as you can, then I want you to get back on the street and duck into the first store you find and call the emergency number.  Don’t give your name, just your security number and hang up.   Find the bathroom and wait for someone you know to pick you up, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good, now repeat it back, what are you gonna do?”

“Wait as long as I can, go back to the street, find the first shop, call the emergency number and give my security code and hang up.  Wait in the bathroom for someone I know to come get me.”

“Good girl, you’re gonna be fine.  I promise...”

“Bucky…  I…. “  her voice broke as she tried to say something, anything to him, anything but goodbye.

“I’m so sorry Doll, you have no idea…  Darcy… Sweetheart…  I…  Just stay safe alright? Follow the plan.”

“Promise me….  Promise me you won’t let them kill you.  You don’t go out there and get dead, do you hear me Bucky Barnes?  You come back to me.”  She choked out her words, tiny fists thumping against his chest.

He kissed her then, it was swift and hard and full of longing and begging forgiveness.  She kissed him back just as passionately, willing the kiss to gentle, to let him know she could forgive him anything so long as he came back to her.

His hands cradled her jaw gently as he broke the kiss, her lips, suddenly bare and empty of him, had her fingers digging into his wrists fiercely, unable to let him go.

“I love you, Darcy.”  His raw honesty stole her breath, left her unable to breath.  Before she could speak he let go of her, vaulting over the railing and landing hard in the alley below.

She stood there, mouth open, staring into the darkness as she listened to him draw their pursuers away.

No, no, no, no, just no.  He did not just do that to her.  She wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all.  How could he say that to her and leave?  She didn’t even say it back…  he was just gone.

Sitting on the fire escape till her feet were almost numb, thinking of his parting words had her by turns furious and overwhelmed with love.  He loved her.  He told her he loved her, and then he left her here, like some big damn hero in some sappy romance.  She would have said it back if he’d just waited a moment.  Because she did love him, loved him so much is made her heart hurt.  The worst part, the worst fucking part was she knew he meant it as goodbye…  because he hadn’t promised he’d come back.  He went out there thinking he wouldn’t be able to.  She wiped her eyes angrily on her sleeve, trying to stem the constant stream of tears.  Eventually she shimmied down the fire-escape and made her way to safety.  Within twenty minutes of calling in her number in, Clint had turned up to bring her back to the tower.  There was an escort and a military grade SUV to pick her up.

She’s still shaking when she reaches the Tower, she’s whisked off to medical and her feet are cleaned and wrapped and the cut on her heel needed stitches.  Other than that, and a mild case of shock, she’s fine.  Fine, she’s fine…  except she’s not fine, she’s so far from fine she’s crossed borders, she’s currently residing in the Republic of Freaking the Fuck Out.  No one will talk to her or tell her what’s going on.  Jane is tight lipped when she appears and tries to get Darcy to rest, but the thought of sleeping is so far out of the realms of possibility right now that it’s a joke.

She can’t get the last image of his eyes out of her mind, he was scared for her, not him, and he looked so damn sorry as he told her he loved her.   Darcy glares angrily at her hands where her nails are digging into her palms, sharp and hard and white in the beds.  She forces her hands to uncurl and hisses at the sting and the angry purple half moons left indented in her skin.

What if he didn’t come back?  What if this was it, the end, before they even got to start?

Eventually Darcy convinced Jane she couldn’t stay in bed, she was just too wired and stressed to sleep and they went to the common room.  The room was quiet, no Mario Kart on the big screen, no Tony and Steve bickering at the island in the kitchen, no Sam and Clint making wise cracks and sniping each other with popcorn.  They were all out looking for Bucky.

Jane finally fell asleep just before the sun started to rise.  Darcy got up and found a blanket to put over her friend before moving about the room, straightening pillows, and throws, then over to the open plan kitchen to empty the dishwasher.  There were half empty cups strewn on the counter and two plates sat with a meal untouched.  All indications of the abrupt scramble that must have took place when Darcy called in.  It was as though life had just been put on pause, a reminder that although she wanted nothing more than to go back to that moment and say something, she couldn’t.  She busied herself with all the small chores as the sun’s light continued to fill the room.  The counter tops were gleaming when she was done, she was putting away the cloth when the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

Darcy spun round to see who was there and nearly fell over in relief.  She flew across the room as he staggered out of the lift.  He was mess.  His face was bruised, his shirt torn in places and there was blood everywhere.  He caught her when she launched herself into his arms, her name ripped out of him in a choked sob.

She whispered his name over and over again as he rocked her against him. So thankful that he was here, alive.

A sudden fury filled her when she realised he wasn’t about to keel over and die and she stepped back from him.

The crack of her palm against his cheek echoed violently through the room. She was wide-eyed and gaping at her own action.  He didn't look shocked at what she had done though, just resigned.

“What the hell did you do that for?  You can’t just tell me you love me and then leave me!  That is not how this works.  You don’t just confess your love and run off to die.”

At her words he relaxes a fraction, as though he were almost happy to hear her chastisement.

“Darcy, babydoll…”

It's his placating, voice, the one he tries to use when she's worked herself up into a into an apoplexy.  Usually she's happy to let him cajole her into a better mood but right now she wants to shout and scream and stamp her foot is she feels like it.  He owes her that at least, after what he put her through.

“Don’t you Babydoll me James Barnes, you are going to stand there and listen.”

“Darcy, I’m sorry…”  she cuts him off, she's going to say her piece no matter how sorry or sincere he is.

“No.. uhuh…  You are unbelievable, you know that?  I asked you to promise me you’d come back and instead you say those words like they were some sort of ending.  Like you weren’t coming back."  Her hands are waving in the air as she grasps to articulate herself  "You didn’t even wait for me to say anything, you just jumped.  Do you know how scared I was, how fucking terrified? "  She sucks in a breath, even as she feels more words bubbling up, but it's less angry now, accusation is winding through her tone.  "It felt like you were saying goodbye, Bucky, I thought you were dead.  You tore out my heart.  Don’t you get it?  How much you mean to me?"  Darcy squeezed her eyes shut and let out a involantary sob is frustration.  "I can’t breath, I can’t sleep, I can’t fucking live without you.  You got so far under my skin I can’t scrub you out.  There is no world for me without you in it, do you understand?  I love you, I love you….   I love you so much I don’t know who I am without you anymore… and you just left….  I love you, I want to hate you right now, but I just. Fucking. Love you.”  She stood panting, shuddering in the wake of the soul wringing words she had vomited out and then she burst into tears.

She felt the ground fall away as he lifted her into his arms and then they were on the couch as he settled her into his lap while she let all the fright and bottled up emotion of the last twelve hours wash away.  He didn’t say anything, just held her until she finally stopped, tiny hiccups escaping her as she lay against him.

“Better?”  he asked her quietly, his hand rubbing soothing circles into her skin just above her hip.

She nodded her head and blinked stupidly as he produced an immaculate handkerchief from somewhere for her to wipe her face with.

“I know it wasn’t the right time to say it for the first time, I... but…  I didn’t know what was going to happen Doll.  But I knew I couldn’t go, not without saying it at least once.  I’m sorry you thought it was goodbye, that’s not what I meant, but I couldn’t make a promise to you if I didn’t know I could keep it.”  He reached up and cupped her face, his palm pressing into the line of her jaw until she met his eyes.  “You gotta know…  Darcy, you changed everything for me.  Everything you just said, it’s the same for me.  You’re in me Darce, in my blood and bones, a part of my I don’t ever want to live without.  When we were out there last night, all I wanted was for you to be safe, I knew your best chance was without me.  I love you sweetheart, I love you so much that if anything happened to you… if you died…  I’d be right behind you babydoll, cause you’re all the good that’s left in my world.  I can’t promise not to do it again, not if it means keeping you safe.  I can promise that I’ll fight for you, to come back to you.  I can promise I’ll never stop loving you.  I can promise that as long as I live there will never be a time when I won’t do everything in my power to make you happy. Because darling, I just fucking love you too.”  He looked as wrecked as she felt, his voice strong and adamant in his declaration.

His words echo in her mind and she felt such a swell and rush of emotion she thought she might burst into tears again.  Instead she pressed her lips to his.  It wasn’t like before, there was no desperation in this kiss, it just was.  It was slow and steady, their lips telling a story to each other, making silent promises, finding peace.  She felt the knowledge of what they were settle into her soul, it was clarity and a profound sense of rightness, as though where once she had thought she was whole, she found that wholeness to now be complete.  They come through something life changing, something that realigned the world for them both.  It was a paradigm shift.  The kiss drew out, and she moaned softly as he pulled back, resting his head to hers, their eyes holding each other, unable to look away.

Darcy sniffed and nodded as he stroked her cheek, wiping away the last of her tears.

“Okay… Can we go home now?”  She felt exhausted, all she wanted was her bed and Bucky.  Her eyes were drooping as she tucked her head back into his neck, breathing in his scent.

“Anything you want Doll.”  She closed her eyes and melted into the sway as he stood, safe in his arms. She was only partially aware of the movement as he carried her, caught the murmur of voices as they passed through the hall and felt his chest rumble in response as he answered whoever was speaking.

She was floating in a sea of emotion as he helped her into bed, the panic when he left her side was abrupt, but he whispered her fear away and went to shower before finally joining her in bed.  When he did, he tangled himself around her and she could finally relax.  He loved her.  He really loved her and she almost didn’t want to sleep while she held those words in her head.

“Sleep Darcy. I’m right here, m’not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She finally let sleep claim her, the last thought…  It hadn’t been the worst date she’d ever had, but it had had the best ending, a happy one.

NEXT

@captain-rogers-beard

#Love All The Marvel Ships Challenge #Bucky/Darcy #wintershock #On A Date #Love All th Marvel Ships

[moonbeambucky]

The Missing Piece (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 1715 Warnings: mentions of death/cancer

Summary: You are a SHIELD Agent working undercover in Belgrade, Serbia when a run in with Bucky Barnes changes your future

A/N: Eventual smut, so 18+ please! This story beings a few months after the events from “Age of Ultron” 

THE MISSING PIECE MASTERLIST

The door creaks open as you impatiently walk into your apartment. “Ughh I swear if Goran grabbed my ass one more time I was going to blow our cover right there!” you huffed. 

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” a man replied, as he walks over to you.

“He repulses me,” you said, as you hold up your hair waiting for him to unzip the back of your dress. He pauses for a moment and savors the view of the fabric hugging your curves. “You look beautiful.”

You ignore his comment and go into the bathroom to change. “So what did he tell you?” you asked, speaking louder through the door. The man stands in front of it to answer, “I’m seeing Goran again tomorrow and I think in a few days he’s taking me to meet Josif. We’re so close Y/N,” he said unable to contain the smile on his face.

You open the door and throw your hands around him. “Matt that’s great news!” He deepens the hug but you pull away, lowering your gaze. He looks at you regretfully and retreats to the other room.

For the past two months you’ve been in Belgrade undercover as Charlotte, the wife of entrepreneur Aleksander Kovac aka your fellow SHIELD Agent Matthew Walker. Your targets are Josif & Marko Petrovic, two brothers with a petty criminal history until recently. After the Sokovia incident they had gotten involved in arms dealing. SHIELD got Intel that the brothers were going to be making a deal with the terrorist group known as The Ten Rings. They had black market Hammer weapons modified with Chitauri technology, and so SHIELD has to stop them. With the premise of looking for new “business partners” you and Matt have been gaining contacts to get closer to the Petrovic’s. While you’ve been playing the part of a loving couple you’ve felt that Matt may want to turn your professional relationship into something more.

Matt is tall and well built, with toffee blond hair and green eyes. He is charming and charismatic, but you resolve to just being his partner and friend. You’ve gotten to know each other well since you’ve been on this assignment.

“Hey Matt…” you hesitantly voiced, “Are you hungry? I’m going to make some pasta.” You hope this breaks the tension built up from the hug. 

“Sure I’ll have some.”

He watches you preparing the food and his eyes catch a light sparkling from your chest. “Damn Y/N, how much did that thing cost SHIELD? I would have bought a nicer watch if I knew they were paying,” he said, referring to the diamond necklace you forgot to take off.

You laughed sarcastically. “Nothing. They bought the dress though, which wasn’t much, but this one is mine.” You paused, “Well it was my mother’s.”

You gently touched the diamond. Your father gave it to your mother after their first date. A bold move you always thought, but your father always said that from the moment his eyes locked with your mother’s he had this unmistakable feeling deep within and knew that she was the one. You sighed and shrugged, physically shaking off your feelings as you fill up a pot with water.

You both ate quickly and discussed the possibility of the mission finally being over.

“I’m looking forward to seeing them,” Matt spoke of his family. “They’ll probably throw a big party. You know you’re coming, right?”

You struggled through a smile as you said yes, choking back the pain you felt when thinking of your family again. Shortly after you were born your mom died. Your father raised you alone and it was tough but you survived everything life threw at you, everything, until cancer came and wrecked it all. You devoted yourself to helping your dad, staying with him for chemo treatments, looking for second, third and fourth opinions, and hoping for a miracle. It had been just over a year since he died. You never truly realized how much time you dedicated to helping him until he was gone, leaving you to feel completely lost.

Since then you put all of your energy into your job. It was hard working for SHIELD, especially while they were trying to rebuild themselves as a trusted organization. You used this as an opportunity to help yourself, working long hours and craving overtime, hoping that would help take your mind off of your feelings of emptiness. Your actions did not go unnoticed. Your superior, Director Singh had promoted you and that’s how you ended up in this assignment.

You liked your coworkers but always felt like you never fit in and so you distanced yourself from them. Fellow agents would always go to The District, a popular bar nearby every Friday and you were always invited to join them but never did.

You knew that if Matt hadn’t been assigned as your partner for this case you probably would never have spoken to him but now he had become your closest, well only, friend and you were thankful for that. He understood how you were coping with the loss of your father; he had isolated in a similar way when his grandmother passed. You spent plenty of nights opening up to each other about everything, your fears in life, in this line of work, the threat of aliens or more so the confirmation that aliens exist since their explosive arrival in New York a few years back.

Matt got up from the table and took the dirty dishes with him to the sink. “That was delicious Charlie,” he said. “It’s Charlotte!” you feigned anger, laughing at his nickname for your alias. “And you’re welcome,” you mumbled before plopping stomach first onto the couch.

Matt initially offered to sleep on the couch of your one bedroom apartment during the assignment but you refused, suggesting you take turns. Tonight was not your turn for the couch but you didn’t care, sleep was coming for you fast.

Your face cringed as you heard the rattling of a small container. “You want?” Matt’s voice said above the running faucet. After hearing his loud gulp you realized he was offering you vitamins.

“No. Too tired. I’ll take my stuff tomorrow,” you groaned, already half asleep. “You always say that,” Matt laughed. “Good night Y/N.” You muffled back to him before passing out.

“Good morning Mr. Boskovich,” Matt answered the phone. “Yes. Okay. I’ll see you there.” “This is it?” you asked. “Yeah. If I find out where Josif and Marko are making the deal I’ll contact you. Be ready.” “Good luck Matt,” you said, hugging him goodbye.

You began your day with a quick workout and shower, changing into jeans and a short sleeve white shirt. You decided to wear your mother’s necklace hoping it would bring some luck. It was colder than average for late September so you threw on a hoodie.

You ate breakfast while working on your laptop. You emailed Director Singh a coded message, letting them know that Goran Boskovich was hopefully taking Matt to meet Josif and Marko today. Be ready. Matt’s words echoed through your head.

After eating you opened the closet door and took out a black backpack. This was your emergency bag. You placed a few water bottles and protein bars inside the bag, checked for money in the zippered pouch, made sure the flashlights worked and the first aid kit was stocked. You felt around for the emergency phone and Swiss Army knife, and then took out a few handguns. Checking that they were loaded you put back all but one that you kept out on the table. You placed the bag back in the closet but left the door open, just incase you needed to run out quickly. Be ready.

Some hours had passed. You were anxious but knew it could take some time for Matt to get any information. You busied yourself around the apartment, going into the bedroom to straighten up clothes that seemed to overtake a chair in the corner when you thought you heard a noise.

You stood still for a few moments before cautiously poking your head past the door frame. Taking a few steps forward into the living room you saw an unfamiliar black duffel bag on the floor.

Suddenly you were grabbed by a strong figure with gloved hands around your waist. You struggled to break free, kicking and thrashing your legs up. You managed to elbow the stranger in the face and run a few steps ahead. It took your attacker a few large strides to catch up to you before he wrapped his left arm tightly around your waist and pulled you close to his chest. You attempt to push his strong arm down, using all your strength to slip out of his grasp, ripping some of his shirt’s fabric in the process. You run towards the gun but you don’t make it. Your right leg is grabbed and you hit the floor with a hard thud.

The man climbs above you locking your arms behind your back. “Where’s Charlie?” he asked. His voice was soft but stern at the same time. You grunted, still struggling to move. “I don’t want to hurt you. Just tell me where Charlie is,” he repeated.

He shifts his weight on top of you, grabbing your wrists as your face twists in response to the unfamiliar whirring sound above you. Confused and nervous, your mind is racing for a plan but your thoughts are interrupted by the uncomfortable sting of thick plastic locking your wrists together. The man then binds your legs with another zip tie. He lifts you up on your feet as you struggle for balance.

You are standing before your attacker, eyes downcast at the man’s worn out boots. You sigh deeply before slowly lifting your gaze. His dark black shirt clings to his muscular frame with one sleeve is torn thanks to you. You squint in confusion at the absence of skin, instead seeing a gleam of silver shining through. You look up to see the man’s face. He is unshaven and wearing a dark baseball cap, the brim casting a shadow over his features.

You studied his face and had a striking realization. “Sergeant Barnes?”

PART 2

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series

[witchymarvelspacecase]

Wraith pt. 12

Summary: Follows the storyline of CA:CW. Regan is an ex-HYDRA experiment who has been on the run for about a year. Turns out the Winter Soldier has been hiding not only in the same city as her, but the same BUILDING. Chaos ensues and she offers her help to Bucky and his friend Steve.

Word Count: 1742

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of syringes, Typos (sorry)

A/N: I’m really sorry this has taken so long. I haven’t felt the inspiration lately...

Masterlist

Not my gif, credit to the owner

Bucky’s POV

Regan was still, but she was breathing. Her heart was still beating and for the moment, that was enough. When she had passed out in his arms, he and Natasha had sprinted to the jet, narrowly beating the others. Wanda caught sight of him carrying Regan and her face paled.

“Wilson,” Bucky called, his voice scratchy, “Regan’s worse than expected, she’s unconscious.”

Sam rushed over at his call, carrying the kit. Bucky laid Regan out on the small cot at the back of the jet when Sam instructed. Sam leaned over her, checking her pulse, and started cataloging her injuries. Bucky felt sick. He kept his position by her side, holding her hand as if he could will her to wake up if he just gripped her strongly enough.

“How is she?” Wanda appeared just behind Bucky. She spoke quietly and kept her gaze on Regan.

“Not great,” Sam responded as he began to cut away what remained of Regan’s clothes. It looked like she was still wearing the prison jumpsuit that Wanda, Sam, Clint, and Scott had been wearing when Steve broke them out, but it was hard to tell considering how dirty and torn up it was.

“How not great?” Clint now peered around Wanda as he, Steve, and Scott returned to the jet.

“Well, she’s lucky she’s unconscious. It looks like she has multiple broken bones. Judging from the bruising around her ribs, she may have some internal bleeding. There are slashes and what look like puncture wounds all over.”

“Puncture wounds?” Natasha called questioningly. She and Clint had headed for the cockpit and the jet was rising now, but at the mention of the punctures, she had returned to Regan’s side.

“Yeah, like needle marks. Someone shot her up with somethin’, and I’m guessing it’s not penicillin.”

“No,” she confirmed as she walked back towards them, “it’s not.”

“You know what it is then? Cause I have a feelin’ I may need to know.”

“Yeah, but you’re not gonna like it. We’re gonna have to call T’Challa. Regan is going to need a full course of antivenom, multiple varieties.” Natasha shouted instructions to Clint as he put through the call for her. She jogged back to the cockpit to talk to whoever answered, Wanda trailing behind her. 

Steve and Scott were seated along the sides of the jet, seeming deep in conversation. Bucky was silent.

He closed his eyes, feeling useless. “What can I do?” He asked quietly, to no one in particular.

“Take this and press it here.” Gauze was placed in his free hand, his metal hand, and it was guided to Regan’s side, where a wound was bleeding heavily. Bucky pressed the gauze to her wound, applying pressure.

“So,” Sam said calmly as he opened more gauze, “you and Regan knew each other from before?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered, slightly stunned that the man was talking to him.

“She didn’t talk about it much, but she seemed to trust you. What do you remember?”

“Not- not much. But I do remember working with her a few times. Mostly it’s bits an’ pieces. But I know that she and I were friends, or as close as you could get to that anyway.”

“I can see that. She important to you?”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, he looked up at Sam, “what do you mean?”

“I mean, you obviously care about her. Dunno if this is cause of how close you were before or somethin’ else, but you went back. Back into a HYDRA base, to get this kid. Now I know,” Sam said, cutting Bucky off when he looked about to speak,” I know that she helped you, but I don’t think you’re acting like this just to repay a favor. I don’t think she was either.”

The happy memory played in Bucky’s mind again. The memory that he wasn’t sure happened, but he hoped it had. The plane jostled beneath his feet and snapped him out of his reverie as Natasha walked up to them.

“T’Challa’s people have the antivenoms on standby, we should be there in 15,” Natasha met Bucky’s eyes briefly before looking to Sam. “Is she gonna make it?” she asked softly.

“I think so, we just have to get this bleeding under control and keep her vitals up. What venoms are we dealin’ with here?”

Natasha sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose before answering. “If it’s the same as the last time, it will be a mixture of coral snake, platypus and bullet ant.”

Bucky and Sam both made faces. “Well that’s an odd and specific combo,” Sam mused. But Bucky met Natasha’s eyes again before speaking.

“Bullet ants venom causes the most pain. Coral snake venom can induce seizures. And Platypus venom is the longest lasting, and has no known antivenom.” Sam grew more concerned as Bucky explained.

“Is this woman insane?!”

“Arguably, yes she was. She’s dead now, thankfully, but we can’t know for sure that she hadn’t changed her formula.” All they could do was hope that the crazy woman hadn’t improved her torture juice. 

Bucky pressed a little harder on his gauze pad, asking for another when he noticed Regan’s blood seeping through.

Just a little longer doll. A few more minutes and the pain will go away. Just keep breathing… please.

Regan’s POV

A stinging pain all over her body woke her, but as soon as she was awake, Regan couldn’t believe she had slept through the cacophony surrounding her. 

She was being wheeled off of a jet that looked strangely familiar, though she couldn’t place it. People all around her were shouting to each other. She went to raise her hands to her ears, but they were strapped to the gurney beneath her. Panic started to burble up within her as she looked around, searching for anything she recognized, hell even a HYDRA agent, at least then she’d know what she was dealing with. But as she tried to move her head, pain shot up and down her spine. She cried out, her body doing its best to thrash on the table within the restrains. All she could feel was pain and fear; she didn’t know where she was, or what was going on. 

A man in a lab coat approached her with a syringe and she screamed.

Reaching out with her power, she drew from the jet she’d just been wheeled off of and shot the electricity towards the syringe toting man, flinging him backwards with a little flick of her wrist. 

Pulling more energy towards herself, Regan wrapped the warm sparks around her body, creating a cocoon, protecting her from the people around her and shocking the people who had been holding the metal rails of the gurney to pull her along.

She could barely hear the voices of the lab coats around her calling out, over the crackles of her cocoon and the sound of her own breathing. 

Each breath echoed in her head, too loud she knew, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Pulling a tiny tendril away from her cocoon, Regan set to work on removing her restraints. These restraints weren’t metal, but cloth could melt too, or be set on fire with a strong spark. Finishing the straps around her arms and middle, Regan tried to sit up only to fall back to the table, pain now screaming from her midsection as well as her spine. Pushing power through her body to her feet, Regan still removed the straps around her ankles, preferring to be free to move, even if doing so caused her pain. 

Resolving herself to the waves of pain she was sure were to come, she rolled herself off the gurney and to the ground, hitting it with a pitiful sounding moan. She pushed and levered herself into a sitting position and closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, there was a man kneeling in front of her. Wait… she knew him…

“Soldier? Wait… B- Bucky?” she said slowly. His face lighting up when she used his name.

“Yeah Regan, it’s Bucky. Are you ok?” As soon as he talked, her head cleared enough that she remembered where she had been, and what had been happening before she passed out.

“Oh shit… Fuck did I hurt anyone?!” Panicked again, but for a whole different reason, Regan tried to look around, forgetting that she was injured. She fell to the ground again, catching herself on her elbows, hissing.

Bucky went to her, but couldn’t get close, her energy shield still wrapped around her. “No, everyone is ok, the shocks you gave the docs were too low of an amperage to hurt them much. Can you lower your shield so I can help you?” he asked calmly, though on the inside he felt as though he’d run a marathon; heart racing.

She looked as if she’d completely forgotten about it, shaking her head slightly, her shield dropped and Bucky approached again. “Sorry,” she said, “I um- shit, I have no idea what’s going on,” she rested her forehead on the ground as she spoke. “God, I’m so embarrassed.”

Bucky chuckled as he bent down to her. “No reason to be, one of us should’ve stayed with you to make sure you knew what was up when you woke up. Is it ok if I pick you up?”

When she nodded her assent, Bucky gently slid his arms under her and eased her up from the ground. He nodded to the doctors, telling them that he’d carry her inside.

“We’re in a safe place ok? Everyone is here; me, Wanda, Steve, Sam, Scott, Clint, and Natasha. The doctors here are gonna get you patched up and healthy.”

Regan nodded. “Then we’ll kick what’s left of HYDRA’s ass.”

“You got it,” he replied with a small smile.

When they reached what would be Regan’s room, Bucky placed her on the bed. He was about to pull away but Regan grabbed his sleeve. He looked to her face, she wasn’t looking at him, but at the tray of instruments off to the side; her eyes were wide, and the grip she had on his sleeve was tight.

“Want me to stay?” She nodded, so he perched next to her on the bed as they waited for the doctor to come in.

Hey ya’ll, sorry this has waited so long, but please let me know if I should keep going on this, otherwise it’s gonna end soon and I’m gonna try to work on one-shots instead (who am I kidding, this will probably kick around for a while untouched anyway)

Thank You's: @bellblake-trash , @buckyslion , @bovaria , @buckybarnesstar , @fvckingbuckyandsteve, @thatawkwardtinyperson, @imhereforbvcky, and @gigistorm

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#bucky barnes #bucky x OFC #Captain America Civil War #ca:cw #fanfic #bucky barnes fic #marvel fanfic #avengers #wraith #steve rogers #sam wilson #captain america #falcon #winter soldier #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #clint barton #hawkeye #scott lang #antman #team cap #natasha romanoff #Black Widow #t'challa

[sebbytrash]

желание - The End

Longing: A yielding desire

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings - Swear words. I’m Scottish, I can’t help it.  A little angst, I’m sorry. Some kissing. Bucky needs a hug. Everybody needs a hug.

A/N: REPOSTING BECAUSE OF BLOG MOVE

желание Masterlist

Bucky’s date.

The phrase plays like a broken record, orbiting around your brain, waving it’s neon sign and tapping impatiently against your skull.

You fumble your way through dinner with Sam and Steve, fake smiles and slow blinks until you can escape to your room but even then, that doesn't help at all. He’s everywhere, the soft lingering scent of him on your sheets, the grey t-shirt you’d borrowed but never actually returned balled up on your bed from where you’d worn it last night, the knife sheath on your side table that contains his favorite knife, that phrase always making you smile despite yourself because of course he has a favorite knife.

Logically, you know there’s a bountiful of reasons to explain Julia and most of them don’t contain the word date, but it’s there now, demanding attention until you’ve got them shacked up together and happy, 2.5 kiddies and leaving you in the dust.

He always was really great at kissing, wasn’t he? Should a man who’s gone without a girl for damn near a lifetime be able to liquify your bones with his lips? A few years, yeah maybe it would easy to get back on that bike but 70? Shit. The nagging little voice that you buried a long time ago creeps in, whispers that maybe you're not good enough, maybe you're not enough to keep him. The voice birthed by teenage girls and high school rearing its ugly head in such a vehement fashion that you can’t help but listen.

Now your pacing the room, burning holes in the carpet with your furious shuffling and mapping out your options in your head. He’ll come back here, you’d made those plans already when he’d avoided dinner with you for-  yeah...so, it’s just a matter of if you’ll be here when he does. You could confront him, straight out ask him who Julia is but that feels a little too bunny-boiler-esque since you’d never given yourself a label and neither had he. And maybe, just maybe you were a smidge terrified of what he would say. Denial, denial.

A thought pushes its way to the front, the one you’d been nervously skirting around and you finally give in. Feeling like a complete skeeve, you ask, “F.R.I.D.A.Y. who is Bucky’s friend, Julia?”

“Mr Barnes has flagged that as classified.” She answers, somehow conveying just how much the system is judging you for even asking.

Your stomach was already half sunk, F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s confirmation providing the final anchor that pits it to your toes. Seconding guessing now, you think over the weeks you’ve spent together, the touches, the looks, every second over analyzed now like you’ve tried not to do before. Did the tilt of his face mean more? Did the tightening of his mouth say more than words? Hopeless. And hopelessly hoping for more.

Sleep evades, taunts you from the dark corners it’s hiding in, a nervous energy keeps your fingers twitching and tugging till you unhemmed the sleeves of your top and secured it’s place in the ruined-but-still-comfortable-so-PJ’s pile of clothes that’s always growing. Grabbing you gym bag from the corner, you head off to the gym to train some of the excess energy off and maybe, just maybe, come up with an idea on how to handle this whole mess.

Thwack, thwack, thump. You keep a steady rhythm, jab, jab, cross. Sweat drips off you, soaking through the support top, slipping over the skin on your stomach and into the band of your shorts. It fuels you, the physical evidence of the effort provides some satisfaction to counteract the aching muscles and bloody knuckles your now sporting. You lost minutes to hours long ago, and somehow you were no further forward. Still lost to the thoughts, still unsure on how to proceed but mostly because the logical side of your brain was being constantly silenced by your denial. Hopeless.

“What did that bag ever do to you?” You flinch at the sound of his voice, catch yourself before you show it and search the room till you find him, tilted against wall, still enough to suggest he’s been there a while.

You grunt, not nothing but not an answer and continue, seeing him, knowing where he’s been, provides you with a renewed energy and your fists hit with a little more force. Each hit sounding off the walls and back at you. The hair on your neck stands to attention under his gaze, his eyes seeing too much and somehow not enough.

“You okay?” He asks, taking a few tentative steps towards you, wearing the smile, your smile, like he wasn’t out offering the same smile to other faces.

It pushes you over the edge and Logical Brain wakes up, rattles around in the space and gives you something to use, “I...no. I don’t think I can do this.” The words drag out of you, shoved by the need to say it but stalled by the hope to want.

“Do what?” He asks it but he knows, you can tell he knows and is making you say it.

You strip the wraps off your knuckles, wincing at the sight of the torn, bloody skin, “This…” you say, gesture between you, “Whatever this is.” Everything, you think, it’s everything.

He nods, like he knew, nods and then tilts his head down, the angle shielding his face from you, drawing all the breath from your lungs at how final it suddenly seems. He says nothing for minute, then two, you imagine him mildly disappointed his booty call has grown a backbone or perhaps even relieved when he speaks, “I uh- I thought we were- I thought this was working?”

There’s something about his tone, the way he says it, the hope the flares makes you angry, “Shit, Bucky. So did I.” He hears it, the infliction, the accusation in the last bit, finally hears what you're not saying. You turn your back to him, make your way to the bag and use the water bottle to rinse your hands off.    

“Wait, Y/N. What’s this really about?” He steps closer to you.

“I’m just…” You chew your words, thinking on how to explain that doesn’t remove every ounce of pride you have left, “I’m all in, okay? And you’re not.”

“I’m not?” His forehead creases, another step towards you and it’s too much.

“No, you’re not!. You have a Julia and I only had you.” You voice climbs higher with each word, more heat than you intended but it serves it’s purpose. You see it, see when it all clicks in his head, watch him sort through his thoughts till finds his place, looks you right in the eye and fucking smiles. Bastard.

“Shit, doll, you had me worried.” He laughs like it’s no big deal, takes another few steps till he’s there, within touching distance, “Julia is not...that.”

You roll your eyes at the non-explanation, turn your head from him and he reaches for you, tilts your head back to him, fingers gripping firm enough to keep you and not hurt you, “She’s my therapist, doll. That’s it.”

“Oh.” You blink up at him, slow blinks since all your brain power is hung up on therapist and the possibilities and then the guilt. The guilt that you let your version of him be derailed by gossip and insecurities, sorting through the possibility that you’d just placed a needless burden and significant spotlight on the less defined portion of the relationship. “I’m sor-”

A thumb over your mouth quickly halts the apology, Bucky shakes his head slightly, “No. I am. I know that I’m… I’m no good with words but if you honestly felt like there could be anyone other than you, well now, that’s on me, doll.” His fingers slip up your jaw, thumb dances along your cheek and the room sort of melts, the tension slides out of you, the relief of it all almost brings you to your knees. Your body moves on it owns, pushing forward till your pressed against him and his fingers have disappeared into your hairline, your lips land against his in a bruising sort of kiss, hungry and hopeful, both of you so filled up with relief and wanting that it hurts. When you break you realise you gripping his shirt tight, white-knuckled, pulling him as close as he can be and he’s doing the same.

It’s bugging you though, that he even mentioned it, “You never told me…” you say, half whisper against his lips, still gripping him tight and close.

He nods, face forms regret, “The stuff in here,” he pulls your hand over his heart and taps, “It ain’t easy listening.” He kisses you again, like he can’t help it, like even he’s surprised by it, “I didn’t wanna put that on you.” There he is, your Bucky, all pride and pain and protect. If you could take his pain for him, you would, but you’d have to settle on a shoulder each.

“Bucky…” You say, look him right in the eye, show him the extent of it all, “I’m all in.” Thick with feeling, and he knows.

“I’m all in too, Y/N.” He say’s right back, and you know.

This time, when he kisses you, you’re ready for it but you’re not. It’s a new kiss, a kiss that reaches deep into your bones, deep into the marrow and solidifies. It’s needy, and full, and permanent- edging on something more. The whole room turns into the feeling, your brain turns to mush and your body is floating, literally floating- the world tilting and wait-

“How did you find out? About Julia?, I mean.” He asks, breathy and low, giving you the opportunity to realise you are in his arms and half way up the stairs.   

“Uh- oh, Sam told me. Said you were on a date.” You throw him a wry smile.

“Of course it was that pigeon motherfucker. Always causing problems.”  He says it so seriously you can’t help but laugh, tuck your forehead against his neck and just laugh. When you're done you don’t move, stay tucked in tight as Bucky takes you wherever he’s taking you and feel your heart do a dip when he kisses the top of your head.

Later, when you're in bed and he’s tucked up behind you, arm slung over you with fingers mapping tight circles on your skin, he nuzzles into your neck and hair, still wet from your shared shower, “Do you want to come with me next week, to Julia? She said I should bring you.”

“I’d like that.” You turn to face him, slide your hand up till you cupping his face and press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He looks at you with that look, the one you finally understand and nudges his nose against you, “All in?”

You nod, “All in.”

#желание #longing series #kale writes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader