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#james black woman loving bucky barnes
starbeanz · 2 years
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do i have 15+ wips that i have yet to post….
yes
will i be immediately writing something based on thiiiiiissssssss
✨✨yes✨✨
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insomniumstella · 1 year
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unfinished business (2) | bucky x avenger!reader
summary: Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.
warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, explicit language, alcohol consumption, sarcastic!bucky
word count: 3,230
taglist is down below (please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list!)
WHERE DREAMS GO TO DIE masterlist
series’ SPOTIFY playlist
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A brooding figure loomed over the table, and, judging by the sharp scent of woody cologne, it was not the waiter.
The sun had disappeared from the broad horizon, leaving the restaurant basking in the soft glow of lanterns and candlelight. Dreamy jazz sounds saturated the space, which was simultaneously open and closed. Despite the lousy name, Toro Toro was a spectacular overwater establishment — a long wooden dock led to an intimate setting with limited tables and a narrow but elegant bar. It was situated only a short walk away from the common areas of the hotel, possessing the pleasure of undisturbed peace as the restaurant imposed a strict adults-only policy.
“The menu’s full of oysters, caviar, shrimp with garlic butter?” Her sentence warped into a question as she read through the entrees before glancing at James through the top of the menu. “Delicious, but might be dangerous for a man pushing a hundred and ten.”
“A hundred and seven.” James scanned y/n’s exposed chest, eyes raking over the silk dress and Louboutin heels.
The man wouldn’t describe the attire as a pleasant change, that he’d die before admitting, but it was a change. The black satin shirt Steve had convinced him to pack matched the color of her clothing, and they, to anyone who knew any better, horrifically resembled a couple. A massive diamond ring rested on y/n’s fourth finger from when Tony had gifted it to her for Christmas, solidifying her as Bucky’s pretend wife. 
The table bore two bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon, one empty and the other on its way there. She must’ve been sitting at the table alone for the last half hour, nibbling at bread and cheese without ordering. If James knew y/n, and in some of the worst ways he did, he’d guess she had established a sob story of a fourth wedding anniversary and a missing husband.
He’d be right.
“I’ve heard oysters are an aphrodisiac, so that’s a no,” she placed the menu down, staring at James as he sat down, “why are you here?” 
It was the burning question of the hour. Why did James Buchanan Barnes decide upon a dinner with her? 
“I was in desperate need of an evening with you, and it is our wedding anniversary,” he nodded at the waiter, who approached the table to bring more bread, “also, I was hungry, and nothing at the buffet seemed appetizing.”
To say that nothing at the buffet seemed remotely delicious would be an understatement. The Shack was holding a Mexican night, and as much as James had fallen in love with nachos over the years sharp salsas he couldn’t yet stomach. Mexican dishes had consistently been more of a punishment than a pleasure for the soldier. A rendezvous with y/n could never compare to his intolerance for spicy foods. Besides, James had no desire for mediocre pizza at the 24/7 lounge.
She cocked her head to the side, amused. “Jordan!” The woman called after the boy. “Could you bring us champagne? Oh, and more butter, please.” She flashed him an innocent smile, gazing at him through hooded eyes.
Besides the hostess, Jordan the waiter was the first to greet y/n at Toro Toro. He had been as flirtatious as he had been awkward, but he was also great at conversation, even sitting down with y/n when she had, less than honestly, admitted that her husband would not be joining her. He had brought her an off-menu appetizer, inviting y/n to a staff party later that week as condolence.
“I see you made a friend.” James spread a generous amount of butter on a piece of bread. 
“I did! He’s a Maui local and works at the resort for good tips, hot chicks, and free booze.” The explanation earned a baffled look from James. “Jordan’s words, not mine.” She graced his empty glass with the leftover cabernet and shook her head in disbelief. “I cannot believe I had to sit through exhausting monologues of villains on vacations and catch me if you can, but please don’t for nothing.” James couldn’t figure out the latter reference.
“Did it excite you?”
“Yes.” She poured herself a glass of champagne when Jordan placed an opened bottle and hurriedly disappeared. “All that foreplay, and you still showed up.”
James grinned crookedly, staring into her eyes — for a split second, his walls crumbled, allowing her to witness an honest man who was truly amused by her joke. Except it was over before she could say anything, and James averted his gaze, picking up the menu. She is not funny. 
“Oysters are the last thing I’d imagine to an aphrodisiac,” he commented, eyes locked on the piece of paper resting in his hands. 
“Giacomo Casanova reportedly ate heaps of them for breakfast,” she drained half her glass, “learned it at Pepper’s fun fact Friday,” she explained, referring to Pepper’s infatuation with acquiring seemingly the most peculiar of information. 
Her own remembrance of bizarre knowledge had never come in handy until the conversation, yet, she had been grateful to have learned about seahorses, the purpose of eyebrows, and, in Pepper’s words, “dangerous wax coating on supermarket apples”. 
The left corner of his mouth curled up into a meager smile, “he must’ve been real horny then.” 
“He must’ve been,” she agreed. 
An unusually amicable silence settled between the pair as she bit her tongue on a cobra’s blood would be a much more unsettling aphrodisiac addition, keeping it to herself rather than continuing a conversation of sexual matters with him. James had presumably picked out an entree, messing with the silverware until a certain man caught his eye. He shuffled in the seat, refilling both of their glasses, and leaned in closer than she would ever want him to, especially during dinner, for she had not yet lost her appetite. 
“Remember Elijah Williamson,” he stared at someone behind the woman, “a corrupted politician the FBI asked us to help incarcerate?”
“Yes,” she narrowed her eyes, attempting to read Bucky’s expression, “he was accused of working with HYDRA on a similar project as they did in 2014.”
“And we both knew that HYDRA continued to work in silence and that he was guilty, even though the court deemed Elijah innocent?”
“Yes.” The tone of her voice was beginning to bear hints of annoyance again, the relatively lighthearted atmosphere shattering. 
The FBI and Avengers often bumped heads, given their lines of work, so it had come as a surprise when the government’s agents had reached a dead end and showed up at the compound for help. She could remember the day as if it had happened yesterday — the smug grin she had on throughout the first meeting and the sour taste when Steve had paired the two.
“We need someone with extensive knowledge of HYDRA and someone who could go undercover,” he had said then, “please put your differences aside. This is important.”
Steve had been wrong about the woman. She had not been needed for undercover work.
Nonetheless, by the time Natasha had offered to step in and take over, James and y/n were in too deep. Too deep into Elijah Williamson’s personal and professional lives. The case had consumed them, and at times, they’d almost stumble on the missing piece of the puzzle before the court had deemed him innocent, and they had been forced to step away empty-handed. Somedays, she strangely missed the countless cups of coffee, the sleepless nights, and the eerily peaceful conversations the two had shared for eight solid months.
“Do you still think he’s guilty?”
“The government asked us to not intervene any further after the trial was over.”
“Yes, but that is not the answer to the question I asked.” James returned his stare to her face. It was firm and heavy, and as he searched for something in her eyes, a glimmer of trust perhaps, she hunched in the chair. “Do you?”
She was in thought for a second. “We had very few leads, James.” None were of significance either. “Elijah donates to charities all the time, he helps kids in the foster system, hell, he does too much good to believe he’d want to wipe out half the population.”
“That’s what he wants everyone to assume.”
“I would love to entertain the idea of Elijah Williamson being guilty, but the man, as it stands, is innocent in the eyes of prosecutors.”
James leaned back in his seat. “Do you trust me?” His sudden change of tone took her by surprise.
“I could envision trusting you on the field if my life depended on it, but I’d be reluctant to ask for a coffee.” Reluctant was a restrained statement. 
“Good girl.”
“What?” She asked, face drained of emotions before she burst out laughing. Heaven help me, James has a praise kink, she giggled once more, he’s so getting blackmailed when we get back. 
“It slipped out on accident.” Pink hues crept onto his cheeks before his expression hardened. “Don’t turn around, but Elijah’s here, and he’s been staring at me ever since Jared brought the champagne.”
The woman must’ve developed an instinct to do the opposite of what James would instruct her because she peeked over her shoulder, locking eyes with the politician.
“The waiter’s name is Jordan.” She spoke, ignoring Bucky’s disappointed expression when their eyes met. “I suppose this action did not earn me a second good girl?”
“It did not.” He smoothed the invisible wrinkles on his satin shirt. “Please behave. Elijah is making his way towards us.” His words were less than a whisper.
She had seen Elijah at the trial, sneaking glances from the very far back to avoid getting noticed, but she did not remember him being … attractive? The man who loomed over their table had a full head of luscious, gray locks, and though he had just turned 68, he did not look a day over 50, with sun-kissed features and round eyes.
“Sergeant Barnes, it’s a surprise to see you in Maui.”
James rose to shake his outstretched hand. “I have to agree. I’d never peg you as The Maui Resort kind of man.”
“My wife and I met here, what,” he paused, “thirty years ago? We return each August for our anniversary.” He chuckled, turning his focus towards y/n. “Who’s this beautiful lady?”
“Thank you.” She offered him a smile, leaping up from the chair. “I’m Amelie, James’s wife.” She outstretched her hand, which he shook without hesitancy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
It pained James physically to abstain from an eye roll. 
“Elijah.” He introduced himself and glanced behind the pair, studying the table. “Champagne is always a sign of celebration.” Though it was not formulated as a question, his tone had notes of curiosity in it.
“Yes!” James confirmed as if breaking free from a trance. “Honeymooners,” he gestured between himself and y/n, “we’re honeymooning.”
Elijah took a second to speak, staring at the soldier in amusement, and y/n stepped in before James had a chance to deliver additional, and most likely ludicrous, lines. “Would you mind joining us for dinner?”
The politician was great at masking, but she was a spy, trained by the Natasha Romanoff to pick up every, and any, clue. “Everyone has a tell,” the redhead had observed, “learn to notice the smallest of reactions.”
It was a slight raise of his left eyebrow that had revealed his interest in the personal life of James Buchanan Barnes. His interest in James’s wife, in her.
“We’d hate to interrupt.” He spoke, and there it was again, the subconscious raise of his eyebrow.
“Please,” she smiled, softly placing a hand on Bucky’s bicep, “I’d love to hear about your program for troubled teens in foster systems.”
The soldier beside her realized y/n’s play, “we haven’t even ordered, yet,” he encouraged.
They had been asked to abandon the case, but a dinner with Elijah Williamson was the closest lead they’d ever get. The eight months they had spent working on the case had strangely been the most peaceful months he had ever spent at the compound. A snarky remark would slip past his or y/n’s lips in a while, but they had managed to act cordial. He burned with a desire to demolish HYDRA and anything that was left of it, and she had taken the hint, letting James lead the way. It had been the first time he had seen y/n for who she truly was — a great spy and agent, but she’d never know for he’d never tell her. The pair had built a balance between respect and hatred, and compliments had no place in their complex relationship.
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She had always known James was a deadly assassin and an excellent spy, but she had never accounted James as a persuasive liar. By the time dessert came, Bucky had fabricated intricate stories of their wedding, life after retirement, and a random fake cat named Alpine. According to him, it had magnificent white fur and was adopted. He had lazily draped the metal arm across her chair’s backrest a while ago, and she could almost forget the motive behind the dinner. Bucky’s stories had painted him as a cool, loving husband, who had been eager for a honeymoon ever since the two got falsely married. That he hadn’t mentioned.
The tone of his voice remained charming throughout the night, and y/n silently reminded herself this dinner wasn’t a pleasure for Bucky or for herself, but simply a means to an end.
“James, do not take this the wrong way, but Amelie is wonderful.” Nancy, Elijah’s wife, spoke. “Very few people would be willing to forgive, and pardon me for the harsh phrasing, the Winter Soldier’s bloody past.”
James tensed at the words, maintaining his faux grin. “She is.”
Perhaps under different circumstances, she could see herself appreciating Nancy. The woman operated multiple charities, was a human rights lawyer, and a socialite. She oozed elegance, her graying blonde locks, pulled into a tight bun, perfectly complemented her auburn orange gown. She appeared to be out of touch with reality at times, but she was somewhat friendly and welcoming. Definitely, a great listener, and though being a great listener did not exclude someone from committing crimes, y/n had a hard time comprehending that this graceful woman could do as much as lift a finger to a small animal. Nancy couldn’t want half the population wiped out, could she?
“It was harsh,” she came to Bucky’s defense, “but I understand how it could appear from the outside looking in,” her tone had an edge sharper than she intended it to. 
“Amelie’s a very forgiving person,” James shifted in his seat, removing his arm to refill everyone's wine glasses, “and she’s all mine.” The glimmer in his eyes when he turned to peek at her was a relieved thank you.
“Sergeant Barnes,” she broke their brief eye contact to look at Nancy, “has blood on his hands, but it is not a burden James should bare, for it was HYDRA’s fault.” She noticed as his hand slowly crept underneath the table, harshly squeezing her thigh; a warning that it’s too soon to bring it up. “If HYDRA existed to this day, I would destroy it myself for everything they’ve done to him.” Bucky's firm grasp had painted goosebumps on her exposed skin, yet she refrained from smacking his palm away, opting to furtively push it aside.
“She asks me to get rid of spiders.” He forced a chuckle, studying y/n, and removed his hand. “My wife is too terrified to kill them.”
“Oh, I believe Amelie. A woman would do anything for the man she loves.” Nancy nodded, causing the two to share a pithy look.
“Nancy’s right, James, your wife is a wonderful young woman,” he peered at him through the top of his glass, “and Amelie, thank you for having common sense.”
She analyzed Elijah's body language, noticing a second tell.
The politician would gently tap on his glass, middle and index fingers barely making contact with the object before he'd push it away to knit his hands together. It had only begun after bottles of champagne they had shared as a group. He was intoxicated and most likely wouldn’t shy away from speaking voluntarily.
“What do you mean?”
“Last year I was on a trial instigated by some FBI fools.” The politician leaned back in his seat. “They accused me of leading HYDRA, except HYDRA doesn’t manifestly exist."
She caught the word manifestly, holding onto it. If he had ended the sentence with "HYDRA doesn't exist, manifestly," she might've let it slip, but, and perhaps she was reading too much into it given his underhanded past, "HYDRA doesn't manifestly exist"?
“The FBI does more damage than good.” She spoke with faux reassurance. “I wouldn’t find it hard to believe those knuckleheads put a lovely man through unimaginable horrors.”
“Careful, Sergeant, I might have to steal her.” Elijah’s comment earned him a playful smack on the shoulder from Nancy. “Darling, it was a joke. Nancy Williamson is the only woman I’d ever need.” He placed a tender kiss on her temples before turning his attention to James.
“What is the secret?” He questioned, pretending to be amazed by their affection. “We might need it a couple years down the road.” A sly smile stretched across his features.
“Don’t say that!” Nancy hiccuped as she drained her glass. “You’re both so young and so in love.”
We are young, y/n thought, but hell would freeze over before we fell in love.
The woman placed a gentle hand on Nancy’s before she could refill her glass. “It’s probably best if we called it a night.” She spoke, pretending to care whether Nancy was drunk or sober. 
“I was skeptical of a dinner with the former Winter Soldier at first,” Elijah wrapped a hand around Nancy’s shoulders, pulling her into his embrace, “but it was great. I cannot believe you cook eggs with pesto, I must try that.”
“I do,” James nodded, unsure of what pesto was, only ever hearing about it from Tony, but supporting his lie nonetheless, “it’s a breakfast from heaven.”
Elijah laughed at his words, loud and carefree. “What are your plans for tomorrow?” He asked, glancing between them.
Her plan was to tan in an adults-only beach and drink her body weight in mediocre margaritas, as far away from James as she could possibly get, but an honest answer might not have gone down well.
“Surprisingly, we have not decided yet.”
“Great! Nancy and I are organizing a yacht party tomorrow, so put it on the list.”
James wasn’t a fan of yachts, parties, or spending time around y/n, but he was willing to sacrifice comfort if it meant a solid lead toward the demolition of HYDRA, “I cannot wait.” 
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TAGS:
@legohe4rts @missvelvetsstuff @browneyedgirl22 @gr33nleo @thatrandomcatoverthere @fiftywhore1 @buggy14 @nt-multi-fandom @physically-im-fine @marygoddessofmischief @fuckthealarm
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jiarkives · 3 months
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julia’s favorites ! (i)
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♡ - fluff ; ♤ - angst ; ☆ - series
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harry potter / marauders
♡ new romantics - james potter
↳ @pretty-little-mind33
♡ chosen sister - fred weasley
↳ @potter-imagines
♡ please don’t touch the artwork - fred weasley
↳ @writesowhatnext
♡♤ after all this time - fred weasley
↳ @twelvegods
♤♡ sick of the silence - theodore nott
↳ @iloveinej
♡ untitled - james potter
♡ untitled - marauders
↳ @theemporium
♤ i’ve got plans, sorry (i) - james potter
♤ i’ll reschedule (ii) - james potter
↳ @livinginshambles
♤ secrecy - james potter, remus lupin
↳ @wolfmoonmusic
♡♤ what was i made for? - james potter
↳ @once-upon-an-imagine
♡♤ end up here - theodore nott
↳ @priniya
♡ untitled - sirius black
↳ @ddejavvu
☆ winter in the shade - marauders
↳ @willowbleedsonpaper
~
marvel
♡♤ only you - steve rogers
↳ @sunvmars
♤ obsession - bucky barnes
♤♡ graveyard (i) - bucky barnes
♤ sacrifice (ii) - bucky barnes
↳ @wkemeup
♤ heart of glass - bucky barnes
♤ nothing breaks like a heart - bucky barnes
↳ @buckybabesonly
♡ how could they not know? - druig
↳ @saintlike78
♡ sunshine - druig
↳ @itsapeterthing
♡ sushi and fun mugs - bucky barnes
↳ @lovelybarnes
♤ no questions asked - steve rogers
↳ @pellucid-constellations
♡ you have a girlfriend? - bucky barnes
↳ @antiquarianfics
~
jujutsu kaisen
♡ scent of a flower - geto suguru
↳ @jabamin
♡ family sleepover - choso kamo
↳ @potter-imagines
♡ no heart - gojo satoru
♡ i’m afraid that’s just the way the world works (but i think that it could work for you and me) - geto suguru
↳ @saetoru
♡ cats & compromise - fushiguro megumi
↳ @augustinewrites
♡ weight - gojo satoru
♡ to protect - gojo satoru ft. fushiguro megumi
↳ @tender-rosiey
♡ untitled - gojo satoru
↳ @goroujo
~
top gun / top gun: maverick
♡ hollywood’s angel - javy ‘coyote’ machado
↳ @averagewriter-inthedark
♡♤ untitled - bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw
♡ a glimpse of them - bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw ft. pete ‘maverick’ mitchell
↳ @bradshawsbaby
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criminal minds
♡ untitled - aaron hotchner
♡♤ untitled - spencer reid
↳ @luveline
♡ untitled - aaron hotchner
↳ @ddejavvu
♡ out of the spotlight - spencer reid
↳ @sometimesiwritebadly
♤ back to me - aaron hotchner
↳ @the-bau-quinjet
♡ a well-kept secret - spencer reid
↳ @astrophileous
~
genshin impact
♤♡ “i’ve got you, i swear. nothing’s going to happen to you when i’m here.” - diluc ragnvindr
↳ @lucluvr
♤ not enough - diluc ragnvindr
♡ mortal customs - platonic!xiao, zhongli
♤♡ i promise - shikanoin heizou
♡ solace - lyney
↳ @averageallogene
♤ replaced - diluc ragnvindr
↳ @littlequackerman
♡♤ strawberries and wolves - diluc ragnvindr, platonic!razor
↳ @uselsshuman
♡ papa of the melusines - neuvilette
↳ @i23kaz
♡ mischief & melusines - neuvilette
↳ @itadorey
♡ untitled - neuvilette
↳ @auratux
♡ another woman claims to be his girlfriend? - lyney, wanderer
↳ @gfmima
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call of duty
♡ untitled - simon ‘ghost’ riley
↳ @rileyslibrary
♡♤ whatchya got, boy? - john ‘soap’ mactavish
↳ @roosterr
♤♡ as long as i’m here - task force 141 + alejandro vargas
♡♤ no one can hurt you - task force 141 + alejandro vargas + rodolfo parra
↳ @krypticcafe
~
bridgerton
♡ reunion of sorts - anthony bridgerton
↳ @ijustwant2write
~
attack on titan
♤ all too familiar - levi ackerman
♤♡ onwards past to eternity - levi ackerman
♡ and so it begins - levi ackerman
♡ it’s a wrap! - levi ackerman
↳ @jayteacups
♤♡ i want you with me - jean kirstein
♤♡ my love for you is endless - mikasa ackerman
♤ tell me i’ve been lied to - levi ackerman
☆ cherry - reiner braun, jean kirstein
↳ @damn-stark
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ramp-it-up · 5 months
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To Renounce and to Claim
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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader
Summary: A world where you and Bucky can be happy is seemingly only what dreams are made of. Until you complete your mission.
Word Count: 3K
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. S MUT! Read at your own risk. Curate your own experience. Pining, low self esteem, two idiots in love, Bucky in Wakanda, the White Wolf, skinny dipping, eye fucking, sex in public, sex in a river, loss of "virginity", size kink, pleasurable pain with sex, raw sex, oral sex, pulling out, cum play. Feelings of loss, (the death of T'Challa is implied) implied loss of child, feelings of revenge. Google translate Hausa and Russian.
Not Beta’d. All errors my own.
A/N: This is the second in the Bucky Barnes and the Summer Soldier series. White Wolf Bucky, liberties taken with the MCU cannon and timeline. The following terms are from google translate in Hausa: Masoyi- my love; ina son ku- I love you; ina son ku kuma- I love you too. Kulkoka- Doll in Russian. Other terms defined in text.
As always, reblog if you like it!
I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!
I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.
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Wakanda, 2017
The first time you saw Bucky Barnes, you wanted to destroy him.
You, and everyone you knew, thought that he’d assassinated your king, T’Chaka.
The pictures of the masked metal-armed man which was circulated among the Dora were mesmerizing to you. The blue eyes above the black mask seemed to stare into your soul. They were menacing, determined, yet with a hint of something else that had you transfixed.
You kept your eyes on the images long past the ending of the briefing and you were still seated with the holo-pad when everyone else stood to go.
When Okoye called for you, the other Doras quirked their mouths, the loudest their merriment would go in the mixed company of civilians, royalty, and military.
Zola confronted you about it months later, when Barnes was granted asylum in Wakanda.
“I want to talk to you about your feelings for the Winter Soldier.”
You stared at your former Captain, incredulous.
Bast, this woman did not forget a thing.
“I know not of which you speak, Mistress. I was studying his photos to see if I could spot a weakness, so as to kill him easily. Now that he has the king’s protection, I will follow orders.”
You kept your posture rigid and eyes straight ahead as she regarded you. Your training was over, but she knew you better than your mother in the river valley; you’d certainly been with her longer.
“That is the correct answer, child.”
You did not dare mention that you had not been a child for years. You kept your disrespect in your head. Not that it mattered.
“I know what you are thinking. That you are a full grown woman, a warrior. But if you do not want to put all of that in jeopardy, you will be careful. Do not let him into your head.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
You should have listened better, for after he arrived, the Winter Soldier was not only in your head; he was in your heart. The chaos a smile from James Barnes could create inside you would cause your father to send you to the Jabari if you were still his ward.
You chilled Bucky to the bone from the first moment he laid eyes on you; you were so regal and so strong. You were different than any other human he’d ever met.
The second he introduced himself and your beautiful lips tilted into a frown and said, “What by Bast, is a Bucky?” you were firmly entrenched in his soul.
Neither of you felt you could be honest, you because of duty and he because he felt like an incomplete shadow of a man. Bucky had a lot of work to do. And he set about the work of healing, mentally and physically with a singular focus. Becoming worthy of you was one of his primary goals and you didn’t realize it.
The day Wakanda celebrated James Barnes and gave him a new name was the beginning of the end.
For the better part of the previous year, James Barnes had been just a man. A man that you squared off with when he first arrived, a man that you watched with pity as he broke down, then listened to with sympathy, talked to with candor, trained with intensity, and eventually broke bread with trust.
Now that man was your abokin kirki, your good friend. And also the White Wolf, practically a member of the royal family.
And, like the stealthiest of adversaries, the romantic feelings caught up to you quickly and without warning. You were astonished at how you felt when you saw the way that he looked at Nareema during the Royal celebration for him. You were devastated that he could look at another in that way and more than that, disappointed in yourself.
The fact that you’d fallen for your friend was something that you vowed never to admit or act upon. Sacrifice was your duty. Your feelings didn’t matter even if they were requited. Barnes was healing, and thus did not have time to focus on frivolous emotion.
Your job, as commanded by T'Challa, was to assist him through this period, and bid him goodbye when the time came.
What you purposefully ignored was how he had acted toward you. James sought you out, how he waited for you to come back from missions and training exercises, always with your favorite dishes prepared. Cooking was a hobby that he had undertaken to help calm his mind. And he was quite good at it.
You also disregarded the way Bucky looked at you, the way his eyes changed when you were in full combat gear, and the way his bow deepened as you walked by.
Or rather, you only thought about it when you were alone in your bed at night.
You should never have taken him to your favorite spot along the river the day after the celebration and allowed him to skinny dip with you. You told yourself it was just a private celebration between comrades; it was common among friends of the River Tribe, males and females naked before one another with no illicit thought. But this was different.
The way that you and James stared at each other from opposite banks as you lay in the sun after frolicking like children was dangerous. Your eyes avoided his, but you drank the rest of him in, from the new arm, to the scars on his chest, to the water drops dripping down his skin onto the river bank. His large cock was at rest, but it was long and thick, and you could imagine what it would be like if it were awakened.
You stared innocently at his manhood while something inside you alighted.
James’ eyes were upon you, from your captivating eyes, to those alluring lips, to the water running in rivulets between your beautiful breasts. He’d always admired your body, remembering every curve and toned muscle late at night and early in the morning when he was alone. The lust inside of him wanted you, but so did the love.
His eyes sought out yours, and when you finally returned his gaze, he guessed that perhaps you shared his feelings. Sensing his awareness, you again looked at his body, studying him as if he were predator, or prey.
Your boldness was alluring, and the fact that you were sitting, legs akimbo, so that he could clearly see the folds made Bucky feel the need to go into the river again to hide his arousal.
You joined him without thinking, your heart trying to break free from your ribs. You were afraid. For the first time, you felt truly afraid as your instinct drew you closer to him.
James’ hair was in his eyes, similar to the first time you saw him in those pictures all those months ago. And yet it was different this time. This time you knew that he would be your undoing.
You reached up to smooth his hair back, and he grabbed your wrist, pulling you close to him, your nipples conducting electricity with his wet skin and his cock pounding on your belly.
“Bari in tafi James. Let me go.”
“Da gaske kike so na? Do you really want me to?”
James pulled your hand to his mouth, his lips grazing your palm and up your arm. Your other hand flew up to strike him and he caught it with his vibranium one and twisted it behind you.
You were shocked, but not at him; you were surprised at your reaction. You could have easily gotten out of his hold, you were a skilled fighter.
But you didn’t want to.
“Do you mean to take me like some common karuwa?”
James spoke as his satin lips tasted your skin.
“Stop fighting the inevitable. You know that I hold you in the highest regard. You are not a whore, you are masoyi.”
James’ mouth had reached your shoulder and as he spoke you turned your head toward him as you whispered, terrified.
“You do not mean th-”
Bucky cut you off with his mouth upon yours. You whimpered in his grip and yielded when his tongue insisted entry to meet yours.
You stood in the river, James Barnes’ fingers massaging your scalp, drowning in his kiss. You moved closer to him, throwing your arms up to caress the muscles in his back, your fingers following the traces of water down his torso.
When the kiss was over, your head was spinning.
“What is it you want, soyayya ta? If I have offended you, I will leave Wakanda and never return. I-”
This time you cut him off with a kiss of your own, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding against his cock which was trapped between your core and his belly. James’ hands cupped your ass and as he did so, he groaned. He’d wanted to touch you this way as soon as he saw you, but he’d never dared. He respected you too much.
This time when you separated, you gave him direction.
“The rocks over there on the river bank.”
You pointed behind him to where he lay moments before.
“There. Take me James, over there.”
James turned around in the water, careful not to let the weakness he felt for you, nor the river current cause him to lose his footing. When he made it to the riverbank he deposited you gently on the sun-warmed rocks.
You leaned up on your elbows as James remained half in the water looking up into your eyes.
“Do you really want me James?”
He nodded.
“I do. More than just about anything.”
He picked up your hand and kissed your palm again.
“I have dreamed of this for so long. Tell me that you want me to, masoyi.”
You nodded.
“I want you, James. Ina son ku.”
Bucky beamed.
“Ina son ku kuma.”
And just like that, you were promised to each other, on the banks of your river beneath the Wakandan sun.
You kissed again, the act feeling like a sacrament, heating both of you beyond inhibition. His mouth, his hands, even his eyes on you were alerting all of your senses, because he was everywhere, and all at once. Your hands moved to keep up with him, your ardor overtaking you while you experienced his. Everywhere he touched, bit, suckled and stroked built the fires within you.
Bucky’s hand found your clit and teased it briefly before plunging a thick finger tip inside you. You bit your lip as you wantonly moved your hips.
“I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time, James. Need you.”
“You’ve no idea how much I want to be with you, too, kulkoka, but I don’t want to hurt you…”
James’ flesh hand was moving, stroking your walls as if he owned you, but your face heated at the knowledge of what he meant.
One night around the fire, he let you get drunk on some Border Tribe wine and you’d told him that you’d never been with a man. Not that you were a virgin, whatever that meant, but that sex with a man was something you hadn’t done.
Now you boldly stared at him in his mountain-ice blue eyes.
“I am a warrior James. I can handle it.”
James smirked and tilted his head as his fingers sank into your silken folds, readying you for his intrusion.
“Is that so?”
“Y-yes. I want you inside me…”
Your head lolled back on your shoulders, your shut eyelids glowing red with the sun.
“Mmmmmm, I want that too, Doll.. but I need to see you cum. Right now.”
James climbed down your body, pulling your thighs to the end of the rocks as he went. Your ass ended up in his hands and you leaned up on your elbows to watch him work. You spread your legs for him as his head dipped to your cunt.
James obtained eye contact as he delicately licked your slit from top to bottom and then stopped, watching as your eye opened, blazing as you silently demanded more by pushing his head down harder.
“Eat your meal, Sargent.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
You never let him forget that you outranked him, but he saucily winked as he went down and let his smile curl into your wetness.
As Bucky held you in two hands like a bowl and ate you like a man starved, you pulled his hair, which only spurred him on more. He would lick and then look at your pussy, pause, look you in the eyes, and then suck your clit until you were seeing stars. He continued until he could feel you clenching on his tongue. He suckled you and you trembled at how his lips looked wrapped around you. You squirmed until he had to hold you down so you couldn’t run from your orgasm.
“Give it to me. Now.”
Although you outranked him, your body obeyed his command.
You gasped as your mouth opened into a silent “O”, but you eventually didn’t care as you let out a wail with your climax.
Bucku suckled you through it, drawing out more pleasure and grinning when your pulses subsided.
When you were cognizant again, you reached for his member.
James Barnes was a model of a man, long and girthy, you could barely close your fist around him. His large glistening head projected out of the foreskin of his warm, thick and tan shaft. He felt so good in your grip, the veins that weaved around him making you crave that texture inside you. You had the curious urge to take his large balls into your mouth as your hand caressed him.
The effect of your action upon him was lost on you until you heard a groan, and you tore your eyes away from his glorious manhood to look up.
He was beautiful, looking at you with hooded eyes, hands on your thighs as he let you explore him, but obviously holding back. You could see his muscles tense as if ready to spring. With that knowledge, you leaned back as he gathered your thighs into his large hands. You knew that your arousal was leaking onto the rocks and that was confirmed at the way James looked between your legs and licked his lips.
“Take me James, I’m yours.”
“Be certain of what you’re saying, Doll.”
James lifted your leg to his shoulder and kissed from your ankle to your knee, causing you to shiver, then repeated the action with your other one. He then placed his hands on your waist as he moved close, the tip of his cock slotting into our wet, pulsing hole.
You whined as James stayed still, questioning you with his eyes.
“Please. James, I need you.”
Bucky swallowed and nodded, looking almost afraid.
“I got you, masoyi.”
Slowly, James moved forward, pushing inside you until you began to whimper. He stopped, not wanting to hurt you.
You never expected this sensation, the burning, the stretch, but you knew you were not ready for it to end.
You nodded up at him.
“More.”
You remembered your regulation exercises and used them to relax. James’s cock felt so damn good, but it was a lot to take. He was ruining you from any other feeling and could tell when he looked into your lust blown eyes. His gaze roamed your entire body to take in this moment forever and to keep himself calm. He wanted to take you roughly and immediately, but he loved you too much to ever hurt you.
You moaned as the pleasure from him filling you began to overtake the pain. When he was finally seated as full as he could, passion overtook you and you began to move.
James grabbed you harder to still your hips, trying to hold back.
“I want you to fuck me James!”
With that Bucky growled and climbed up on the rock, knees giving leverage to his hips, which snapped into yours once and stopped when you yelped.
“Easy Doll, don’t want to… damn…you feel so fucking good… so right… hmmm.”
James’ mouth explored your neck and torso, finally worshiping your nipples. You wrapped your legs around his hips, hands in his hair and whispering into his ear.
“Bast! I will not break, White Wolf. Claim me. Make me yours!”
Bucky leaned up and wrapped his hand around your throat as he began to honor your request. He was now pounding into you so hard that your body, and you swore the rock beneath you, rippled.
You moaned loudly as pain turned into pleasure and your body started to tremble. Bucky’s display of power over you had your eyes rolling back into your head.
“Thaats it. So fucking beautiful. I’m.. not gonna… fuck I’m gonna…I need you to…”
Bucky’s other hand found your clit and you let out a string of river tribe curses as you exploded around his cock.
“Holy…”
Bucky pumped about three more times and he exploded as well, pulling out in time to leave a string of pearls from your clit to your collarbone as he released all over you. You trembled as his hot spend seemed to sizzle on your sun warmed body. You watched him attempt to empty everything for you and then reached for him, instinctively sitting up to suck the rest out of him. Bucky looked down on you and shuddered, palming your head as you cleaned him off.
He reached down to play in the cum that decorated your body as you lay back on the warm rock. Then, he picked you up and took you back into the river, tenderly cleaning you off while covering you with kisses.
“I am going to meet with T’Challa. I need you to be my wife and have my babies as soon as possible.”
____
You woke up with a start and tears in your eyes, the noise outside coming through the fog in your head as Amsterdam’s red light district.
You felt a deep loss. For your King, your people, your home.. your husband.
Your child.
You slowly sat up from your sleeping bag, and shuffled to the bathroom to clean your face.
As you looked into the mirror, you vowed that you would be back with your husband…as soon as you killed the power broker.
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ahrahrahraha · 5 months
Text
Series
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Your Hands Have Made Some Good Mistakes by @thenhewaswrongaboutme
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3B by @softlyspector
"Bucky is used to being alone, so is the girl living in apartment 3B. He keeps to his routine, to crossing off amends. But mutual loneliness forges an unlikely friendship. Alone and reclusive, sweet and incredibly strange, with deep secrets and regrets, 3B has more to reveal than meets the eye".
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Sugar by @softlyspector
"By a miracle of fate, Bucky Barnes does not fall off of the train. He does not spend decades as a brainwashed assassin. Instead, he goes home to Brooklyn to spend his life with a girl he adores, a snarky nurse that he met during the war.  Told through a series of non-chronological one-shots."
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
The Florist, The Beekeeper & The Pumpkin Carver by @softlyspector
Home & Better by @softlyspector
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For The Love Of The Game by @pellucid-constellations (college/baseball AU)
"Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it." 
Pairing:  College Athlete!Bucky x Reader 
Undisclosed by @pellucid-constellations (lumberjack!bucky)
"Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either." 
Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky x Reader
A Correspondence Of Obligation by @pellucid-constellations (prince!bucky)
"Obedience, duty, pristine smiles—raised as the princess of an oppressive kingdom, you knew nothing else. Your father signed your life away at the ripe age of five, black ink bleeding into a contract between nations, fate cemented with the flick of a quill. So when the time came to fulfill the promises you were too young to make, you expected much of the same in the land of Brookshire. But Prince James had other plans, as did the enemies looming outside the castle walls".
Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Princess!Reader (Royal AU)
A Million Reasons by @pellucid-constellations
"Bucky Barnes, with all of his trust fund money and family connections, gets assigned community service. You, as someone that's technically part of the community, have to put up with him. Every day. And he won't stop killing your plants."
Pairing: College!Bucky x Reader
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Never Let You Go by @bitsandbobsandstuff
"After losing the woman they love, Bucky and Steve make a desperate decision with unimaginable consequences."
A Love That Never Leaves by @bitsandbobsandstuff
"Sometimes when you go looking for the past, you find things you never expected. When an accident brings him face to face with something he never knew he lost, Bucky Barnes begins to understand an age old truth – it’s so easy, sometimes, to love the things that destroy us."
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Safe With Me by @bitsandbobsandstuff
"When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. As Bucky Barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realise falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected."
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Three Shades of A Man by @bitsandbobsandstuff
"It was different every time, what Bucky needed from you to survive himself. It was in these moments you saw the shades behind the mask he wore in front of the world"
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
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Guiding Light by @wkemeup
The Witness by @wkemeup (detective!bucky)
By Any Other Name by @wkemeup (FBI!bucky)
Sunrise by @wkemeup (armyvet!bucky)
Delicate Edges by @wkemeup (biker!bucky)
Sky Full Of Song by @wkemeup (pirate!bucky)
Pride & Privacy by @adrinktostopyourthirst
Feelings Are Fatal by @sunmoonandeddie
Appointments by @noctumbra
Codename: Lazarus by @sagechanoafterdark
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I'll Take Care Of It by @tellmealovestory
Something More by @tellmealovestory (modern au)
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It's a Deal by @justreadingfics
Looking For A Heartbeat by @justreadingfics
Bad Match by @justreadingfics
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Lumby & Bunny by @sweetdreamsbuck (lumberjack!bucky)
Florist Bucky by @navybrat817
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Biker Bucky by @angrythingstarlight
Soft Mafia Bucky by @angrythingstarlight
Chubby Baker Bucky by @angrythingstarlight
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The Two of Us by @bucky-bucket-barnes
The Five Times Bucky Saved You... by @buckysknifecollection
Tiktok Trend by @tuiccim
Snow by @delaber
Personal Pillow by @buckyalpine
Untouched by @buckyalpine
Wait, What? by @buckyalpine
Untouched by @buckyalpine
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Project V by @babyboibucky
"You ask your best friend Bucky a favor of a lifetime." Pairing College!Bucky Barnes x Reader"
What's Left Behind by @ussgallifrey
"The world turned upside down the minute you let your guard down and, despite it all, you just had to keep going because… what else could you do at a time like this?"
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Gender Neutral Reader
The Kids Aren't Alright by @ussgallifrey
"Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy but, between the three of you, there’s enough lyrics to write an anthem. You’re doomed from the start"
Pairing: Steve x named!Female Reader x Bucky
Updated 4/11/2023
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sebstan2020 · 2 months
Text
Red Ties
Chapter 22
Mary, a sweet Christian girl living in the city of Brooklyn as a nurse had a simple life. She loved her work, her friends and attending church every Sunday and helping Reverend McCarthy. Her life was nothing out of the ordinary. However, it all changed one day when she bumps into the intriguing and intimidating James Barnes, Brooklyn’s notorious mafia boss and is introduced to a world of guns, lust and dominance.
Warnings: BDSM, Dom/Sub, Mafia, Violence, Gang, SMUT, Sex, Possessive Bucky, Overprotectiveness, Bondage, Sexual Themes, Dark Themes, Guns, Drugs, Gang Violence
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The week had flown by. Mary had spent nearly every night at James’s house. He had picked her up from work and was waiting for her in the hospital parking lot or outside the apartment complex where Mrs. McKenzie lived. He insisted on her staying with him. And now that Mary was so much more comfortable around him and excited for what he had planned, she was happy to say yes. Every night, he unlocked a new sensation, a new type of pleasure for her, and she’d wake up in bliss, wrapped in his arms, snuggled in his warmth, with kisses laid on her beautiful skin.
She had barely spent any time in her own apartment, and James even suggested she leave some clothes at his so she didn’t have to pack a bag each time. It was moving so fast, and Mary wasn’t even aware of it. It felt like ages ago since she met James that morning, and having never even been touched by a guy, she had experienced more with him in the few weeks, coming up to a month, than she had in her whole three years at college.
It was Friday evening at the hospital, and Mary was finishing up her shift. She was packing away her bag when Peter and Anya walked into the nursing station, having both finished their shifts as well.
"Hey, are you still coming tomorrow?” Peter asked.
"Yeah, of course, I’ll bring some homemade dips and chips," she suggested, throwing her bag over her shoulder to head outside. James would be waiting for her in the parking lot, and she didn’t want to keep him waiting.
“Great, I’ll bring the wings,” Anya said.
“I’ve got loads of drinks, and that... you guys staying over?” He asked.
“Sure, I’m not working Sunday, so it will be nice not to have to have an early night.” Mary smiled as they made their way to the front doors.
“Yeah, we are going to be hanging the next day." Anya agreed.
“You are; I’m not,” Mary pointed out. She wouldn’t be drinking. Alcohol was not her thing, and from all the times Anya has been hungover, it didn’t sound like it was very enjoyable the next day.
“Come on, girl, let yourself loose once in a while." Anya whined while Mary rolled her eyes.
“If she didn’t drink in college, what makes you think she’s going to start now?” Peter piped up. It was true, though. Mary was not the type to go wild like Anya. She was happy to be her sensitive little self. Although James had seemed to turn that around for her, over the last week or so, she had done things she would have never done before in her life.
"You never know... perhaps Mr. Handsome has changed her a bit." Anya wiggled her brows, and Mary scoffed, shaking her head. All week, Anya had been wanting every dirty little detail about her time with James, and Mary couldn't keep anything away from her, even if she tried. Anya had a way of sucking everything out and squealing in delight at the thought of her best friend finally being with a man.
But it wasn't like Mary was squealing inside herself, getting all giddy with him, and letting whatever sounds and noises needed to come out while he pleasured her in all different ways. How was a man this good at pleasing a woman she didn't know?
As they stepped outside into the slightly windy city, James was waiting for her, pressed against his car with his phone to his ear, shades covering his eyes. He looked gorgeous, dressed in his all-black suit with a black turtleneck jumper. Mary resisted the urge to bite her lip at just the sight of him and quickly busied herself with saying bye to Peter and Anya.
"I'll see you guys tomorrow," she smiled, quickly hugging them. As she went to Peter, he couldn't help but look over at James and see that he had removed his shades and was standing tall, watching intently from his car. He gave her a slight squeeze and a smile, and when she pulled back, he said a quiet goodbye before she jogged off to James.
"Hi," she greeted cheerfully as she reached him, and he immediately greeted her with a kiss before ushering her quickly into the car and swaggering off to his side, pulling away with a roar of the engine.
"Alright, talk to me," Anya said loudly, pulling Peter away and back to reality. He hadn't realised he had been watching Mary the whole time. "What?" he said, confused, but Anya raised her brows, tilting her head to the side as they wandered out of the parking lot. They both happen to have taken the subway today, so they took the walk together to the station.
"You know what I mean," she said, and Peter laughed nervously.
"No, I don't," he shurried, but he did.
"Oh, come on, Peter, even a monkey could figure this out," she huffed.
"Anya, I have no idea what you are talking about," he said seriously.
"I know you like Mary," she said with a matter of fact in her voice, and Peter scoffed.
"No, I don't," he said defensively, and Anya chuckled.
"Yeah, you do," she said with a sing-song tone to her voice.
"Me and Mary are just friends." He tried to cover it up but was doing a terrible job of it.
"Oh, really... if you're just friends, then why have you been so quiet lately every time we talk about her new boyfriend?" That's it; he had been caught out. There was no going back now or covering it up. He might as well come clean.
"Okay, yes, maybe I do like Mary," he sighed as he walked beside Anya, his head hanging down a little. But it didn't matter. She was with James now, and she seemed happy with him. There was no way he could even think about telling her he liked her. For one, it would ruin their friendship, and for two, he didn't even know if Mary liked him back. They were the best of friends, and he wouldn't want to ruin that by telling her how he feels. But what does it matter? She's with James now, and it doesn't sound or look like they were going to break up any time soon.
"But it doesn't matter; she's with him," he shurried, and Anya smirked.
"Oh, so you're jealous of James," she teased, and Peter glared at her.
"I'm not jealous. I just don't want her to get hurt. I mean, he seems like an okay guy, but you never know," he defended.
"This is her first boyfriend; even if he is the perfect guy, there's nothing anyone can do to stop you from getting hurt; it's part of the process," Anay shrugged.
"I mean, come on, don't you think it's a bit weird that he would buy her a new phone and pick her up all the time?".
"Maybe he's just being nice; it's obvious he really likes her." Anya defended. Peter wasn't so sure, but maybe he was just being a bit jealous.
"But I get what you're saying, and honestly, I sometimes get weird vibes from him," she admitted, and Peter furrowed his brows.
"What do you mean?".
"I don't know; he seems a bit intense sometimes, kind of like he's a bad guy, but we've not properly met him yet, so we can't really judge. But anyway, Mary likes you as her best friend. You don't want to ruin that with her; you're like a big brother to her." Shee elbowed him playfully, and Peter groaned.
"Great, just what I want.".
"I mean that in a good way.".
"Look, it doesn't matter; I'm happy for her as long as she's happy," he said, and Anya hummed.
"If you say so.".
Mary moaned at the top of her lungs, writhing around in bed as James rubbed his thumb against her clitoral area, sending pleasure through her body. Her toes curled against the bed sheets, and she grabbed hold of the pillow above her, pushing herself further in. James was attacking her neck with deep kisses, his teeth almost latching on like he was sucking her for blood, hitting the little spot that made her jump. She shuddered underneath him as pleasure took over, and she fell into a deep state of cloudiness. Her climax came, and she spilled all over his fingers, falling into exhaustion beneath him.
James removed himself from her neck, smirking at his work before awakening her with a kiss to her lips. She was well and truly finger-fucked and wasn't going to have any energy for the rest of the night, so he pulled her into his arms, covering her with the duvet, and kissed her goodnight, watching her sleep in his arms.
The following morning, Mary groaned softly as she woke, the feeling of soft finger tips gradually waking her up from her slumber of warmth and closeness. She slighly lifted her head from his chest, smiling up with a half-woke smile and narrow eyes.
"Morning," she said with a sleepy voice, and James took a deep breath.
"Morning," he said softly, his dazzling blue eyes staring down at her.
Even after a night full of intense finger-fucking, she looked beautiful. But his eyes flickered to something else, and the corner of his lip twisted up into a small smirk. He lifted his finger, running it across her cheek and down her neck, taking in his hard work last night. He circled that large red bruise forming just at the top of her neck, speckled around the edges, and the slightly raised pieces of skin from his tiny bite marks. She wouldn’t notice until she looked in the mirror, or perhaps she wouldn’t even know what that was.
But he would. His mark. If she was going to spend all night with the competition, then he had no choice but to leave a little reminder, and he certainly wasn't sorry for it. Mary hummed softly, pushing herself off his chest, although she didn't want to leave.
"Do you want some coffee?" she asked, and he nodded, sitting further up in bed so that his fine chest was on display.
"Yes, please," he said softly, his voice all husky and sexy, and Mary smiled, pushing herself out of bed and padding to the bathroom. She was getting used to sleeping naked now and walking around freely with nothing on. Before, she wouldn't have dared get out of bed without something covering her, but she had hopes that James would be watching her while she padded off.
James certainly had his eyes on her the whole time, and while she hid away in the bathroom, he waited for a shriek or panic at the sight of the hickey adorning her neck. He wasn't too sure how she would react to it, but either way, he wasn't regretting it. Mary went to grab the soft white robe hanging from the back of the door and slipped it over to conceal herself. She made sure to tightly tie the belt this time; after her little slip last time, she definitely didn't want that to happen. But as she looked up into the large mirror, something caught her eye, and she shuffled closer, narrowing her eyes at her neck.
A large red bruise, in a slightly odd oval shape, adorned the top of her neck on the right side, just underneath her jaw, and was sore to the touch. The slightly raised bits were tender and more red, as if blood had come to the surface and dried down. She hissed slightly at its soreness and scurried out of the bathroom.
"What's this?" Granted, she had no clue what the hell it was, and her question was more curious than cross. James was slightly relieved; she didn't have a clue, and he could take this one of two ways. Make some shit up about it being a natural reaction, or tell the truth. As much as he wanted to keep her innocence, he didn't want to lie to her, and he smirked, pulling her hand into his and pulling her forward.
"It's a love bite," he wanted to say, 'it's my mark, but that would most certainly freak her out. "When you suck on the skin there, it bruises slightly; it's not permanent," although he wished it was.
"Oh" was all she could answer as she reached for it, touching it with her finger. She wasn't sure what she thought of it, as it was all so new to her. James chuckled softly, reaching up and kissing her on the sensitive spot before trailing them up to her jaw. Mary couldn’t stop the moan from escaping as he hit the sweet spot and closed her eyes, falling into his touch.
“Don’t you want your coffee?” she said softly.
“I can think of something better I want,” he whispered into her ear, and she giggled softly, playfully pushing him off before managing to escape his grabby hands.
“I’ll be right back,” she promised, scurrying off to make his morning coffee, and James hummed, slipping back into bed.
Chapter 23
Hey I hope you like this chapter, what do you think of James leaving that hickey on Mary, let me know what you think in the comments
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xoxovivafics · 4 months
Text
Home for the Holidays
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Pairing: Librarian! Bucky Barnes x black nerd reader
Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Minors, ageless, blank, & non-updated blogs will be blocked immediately.
Word count: 1,964 words
Plot: Bucky introduces his girlfriend to his entire family for the holidays. Part of the Dream Boy AU.
Warnings: Mostly holiday fluff, brief mention of WWIi and death, kissing, alcohol consumption, smoking, brief discussion of disability, Bucky being sweet.
Notes: I briefly mention Hanukkah traditions, if there’s something missing or incorrect, let me know! Bucky isn’t wearing his metal arm in this story.
Both Bucky and the reader are bisexual. There’s a minor age gap, Bucky is 41 and the reader is in her 30s. Bucky uses a range of nicknames (doll, sweetheart and honey).
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“Ready, doll?” Bucky’s voice drifted down the hall.
“Almost!” You were meeting Bucky’s entire family and wanted to make a good impression. You wore a charcoal circle dress with a sparkling silver plaid print. Festive, but not over the top.
You pinned a small silver brooch to your oversized collar and slipped into low heels.  You fluffed your hair before meeting Bucky in the living room.
“How do I look?” you asked with a grin, spinning around.
Bucky looked at you from your small breakfast table. A loving grin spread on his face as he closed the gap between you.
“You look tops, doll. Like a million bucks.” He kissed the top of your head, placing an arm around you.
“Same to you, handsome.” You noticed that his sleeve was hanging loosely. “Do you want me to pin up that sleeve for you?”
He looked at you gratefully. “That would be great, Honey. I was in a rush and completely forgot.”
“Wait here, I’ll grab my tin.” You went in the hall and pulled aside the sheet from the small closet, humming a Jackie Wilson song as you rummaged.
You grabbed your small sewing tin and steered Bucky to the sofa. Carefully, you rolled up his cardigan sleeve and pinned it. “There. I can massage your shoulders once we get home.”
“You’re such a dream. My shoulder always gets sore when winter starts, makes the old hunk of metal a nightmare ‘til it settles down.”
“My poor baby,” you said softly with a kiss to his shoulder. Your kisses made a path to his lips, a welcome indulgence.
Bucky looked up at you, his expression soft. “You really look so nice. But we hafta go, you know how Ma gets when people are late.”
You sighed. You knew. “Lemme grab the bags.”
You both put on coats and hurried out. When you arrived at the Barnes house, it was riotously full. Winifred Barnes, with her carefully coiffed dark hair and intelligent eyes, was a formidable woman. She greeted you both with a tight hug.
“Bubbeleh, thanks for coming! Let me look at you, oh you look so pretty! Doesn’t she look pretty, James?”
Bucky chuckled. “Yes, she looks very pretty, Ma.”
You smiled at him as you dropped your bags. “I bought some kosher sherry for you and whisky for Mr Barnes. And I made a chocolate babka, with Bucky’s help. It’s not as good as yours, but I tried my best.”
Winifred pinched your cheek affectionately, you tried not to wince. “I’m sure it’s great. I was just sayin’ to my George that you’re the best girl our James has ever brought home.”
She poked Bucky in the chest. “Don’t mess this up, young man! When are you gettin’ married? Have you even asked her yet? None of us are getting any younger, and we want more grandbabies to spoil!”
Bucky looked heavenward, searching for aid that wouldn’t come. “Oh, c’mon, Ma, not this old chestnut again! Give it a break already!”
You excused yourself and fled to the kitchen, letting them argue. You put a few of Bucky’s beers in the fridge and looked curiously at the mix of food covering the counter. Bucky’s family was a mix of Hungarian and Irish, Jewish on his mom’s side, Catholic on his dad’s, though neither parent was particularly devout.
This party was a Barnes tradition that allowed his family to celebrate around the more intimate gatherings of Hanukkah and Christmas. Bucky had recently invited you to celebrate your first Hanukkah with his family. You’d been with him for over a year and he wanted you to see this part of him.
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His parents were first generation and they let their kids assimilate even further. As James Barnes, he was as American as baseball and apple pie. Aside from his bar mitzvah and celebrating major holidays with his family, Bucky was happy to slide into a non-committal agnosticism as a teenager.
He was popular, constantly out with girls, and Steve when he was working, studying, or playing sports. He didn’t have time for much else. His maternal grandparents were already used to disappointment, and his paternal grandparents still held out hope that he’d become Catholic.
But then came the war and its horrors. And suddenly, Bucky found as he got older that those old traditions mattered. He’d lost friends and family in that terrible war. He was never going to be particularly observant, he was too much of a skeptic at heart, but those holidays took on new meaning. He was Irish, but he was also Jewish. Both made him who he was.
For eight days Bucky patiently explained the history of the holiday to you, his sisters and their kids joining in with added theatrics, his mother adding details about Hanukkah foods. With each prayer, Bucky translated quietly to help you better understand. He showed you how to properly light the menorah, his face bathed a soft gold.
You’d known that his Jewishness was important to him- not just religiously, but culturally- but still, it took your breath away to see the seriousness in his face. The memories that swirled in his eyes. There was still such depth in him that you hadn’t managed to plumb. You hoped that you were given the chance to.
You found yourself enjoying the time with his family, feasting on hearty foods, playing dreidel with the kids. You danced with Bucky and his nieces and nephews as his father played the piano, still smoking his pipe. You were far away from your family, so it was nice to be welcomed into another one. And it wasn’t too different from the holidays you’d grown up with. Prayer, food and quality time was something you could easily understand.
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Bucky eventually escaped Winifred, finding you. He led you around his parents’ house, introducing you to his large family. The names became blurred as you met more and more people. This is Uncle Marty and Aunt Pearl, Aunt Rachel and her roommate Joan, Grandpa Moishe, cousin Eddie- don’t listen to a thing he says about me, he’s a wise-guy! Cousins Ciaran, William, Roisin and Shannon from Dublin, didja meet Uncle Bobby yet, he’s a riot….
Bucky only left your side to grab a beer. You found out about both sides of his family, about the recent history and rich culture of Ireland and the memories and traditions of the old country. His parents talked about Bucky’s hijinks as a kid, which made him grumble in embarrassment. You told them how you both got together, leaving out the more salacious details. Bucky’s hand covered yours the entire time, his eyes flickering over to you.
They asked you about your life, where you came from, who your family were. You told them about growing up in a Southern city, about your parents and older brother, about the book of poetry you were writing with Bucky’s support.
“She’s amazing, she’s gonna be the next Langston Hughes, I swear. It took forever to convince her to send her stuff out, but I know her book’ll be in my library soon.”
“Aw, sweetie, you’re being too kind,” you protested, your face growing warm. “It’s only going to be a small collection.”
“C’mon doll, you know I always tell it straight. I’ve read enough to know when something’s good.” He rubbed your palm, his face proud.
“So we’re gonna have a famous person in the family?” Bobby looked impressed. Don’t forget us when you’re hobnobbin’ with the rich bastards in Manhattan!”
“I’ll try not to,” you giggled. “Bucky’ll keep me humble.”
You both missed the small smile Bucky’s parents gave each other.
You passed the vetting process, based on how they bombarded you with stories and jokes, usually at each other’s expense. When you weren’t talking, you were helping the Barneses move dinner to the table in Bucky’s place.
The grandparents led the prayers at the table. Moishe’s low, gravelly voice recited berakhah , followed by George’s father, whose booming voice recited grace. You peered around the table quickly. This seemed like a well-known Barnes ritual, a well-practiced dance between cultures. You shut your eyes when everyone said ‘amen’, repeating it dutifully. Some things never changed.
The rest of the night passed happily, with conversation flowing as freely as the drinks. Your babka even got a few compliments, though you noted that it was mostly from the Irish side. Oh well, next time I’ll bring my pecan pie . 
Eventually, the night grew longer. The children were asleep upstairs as the adults chatted and danced to a record you hadn’t heard before. Bucky even managed to sneak you away once or twice, kissing you fervently in an empty room like a lovestruck teenager, his eyes made merry with love and drink.
“Love you, Honey. Hope you’re having a nice time.” His voice was quiet.
“Love you too, baby. It’s been fun, your family’s like mine.”
“Loud?”
You chuckled. “They’re swell. And loud. Can’t wait for you to meet them this Christmas.”
You return to the living room, though not without notice. Cousin Eddie waggled his large brows, his eyes the same bright hue as Bucky’s. He elbowed Bucky’s arm. “Still a ladykiller, huh? Keep an eye on this one, he knows half the women in Brooklyn!”
Bucky glared at him as you raised a brow. Rude. “Still jealous, huh, Ed? What happened to your last girlfriend again?”
The conversation ended abruptly as several family members laughed uproariously, causing Eddie to beat a hasty exit to the kitchen.
Bucky would tell you later that Eddie’s girlfriend called him a rotten lousy schmuck after she found out about his gambling debts and wandering eyes. She threw his clothes out the window and shouted loud enough for his entire building to hear. No one ever let him forget it.
The party went on until midnight, until everyone was too tired or drunk to continue. Everyone trudged back to their homes, full of food and good cheer. You couldn’t help but yawn as you opened the front door. Bucky kicked the door shut as he walked through. He rested his head on your shoulder.
“You’re so pretty, dollface. Th’ prettiest girl in the world.”
“And you’re drunk, James,” you said gently, kicking off your heels. You led him to the bedroom.
“I’m only a little drunk,” he retorted. “And I’m right.” He fell backwards on the bed.
You looked at him lovingly as you removed your clothes, neatly placing your dress and stockings over a chair. He really was the absolute tops.
Bucky sat up again, his face breaking into a soft, wide smile. He reached out for you. “C’mere, Honey.”
You walked to him. “What do you need, Sarge?”
“Just you.” He pulled you on top of him.
You shivered as the cold settled on your skin. Your thin slip was useless. Bucky held you tightly, his body comforting and warm. “You’re all I’ll ever need. I mean it. I love you, sweetheart.”
“Aw, Buck,” you said, helpless. “I love you, too. Let’s get ready for bed.”
You changed into your pyjamas and scrubbed away your makeup. When you came back, Bucky was already undressed and under the covers, fast asleep. You removed his glasses and placed them on the nightstand before removing your own. You turned off all the lights and climbed in beside him, kissing his stubbled cheek.
“You’re the best Christmas present a girl could ever ask for. You mean the world to me,” you said softly.
You put your arm around him, curving your body against his. You closed your eyes, thinking faintly of Christmas lights and Bucky under the mistletoe. For both of you, the dreams that danced behind your eyes that night would be merry and sweet.
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59 notes · View notes
allandoflimbo · 8 months
Text
Never Again (1)
Pairing// Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Type of story// Multi-Chapter
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Bucky and Y/N hate each other. A lot. This isn’t your average enemies to lovers story. This is an enemies and lovers story. It will be dark. There will be sex.
Never Again masterlist || updated every thursday
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Bucky
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Asa Nusara.” Bucky’s voice was like warm honey laced in gold.
“Your attempt at lying is becoming more unconvincing by the day, James.” Asa replied jokingly, but with a serious tone.
Bucky frowned as the back of his fingers traced over her dark beautiful skin on her cheeks. His thumb runs over her brow bone and then up over her head.
A beautiful black tattoo in the shapes of waves followed over her skull.
He traced those as well.
Asa could feel her heart accelerate as his blue eyes finally found her black ones.
Usually, he would play along with her jokes, but this time, his face stayed serious.
“I’d never lie to you, Ukatana.” He whispers.
The last word dangles in the air. The post coital energy around them envelopes the word tightly, holding onto what’s left of the conviction he’s trying to convey to her.
He feels her bare legs run in between his and she lets out a pleased sigh.
She takes his hand that’s on her face into her own hands and intertwines their fingers together.
Leaning in closer to him, she rests her forehead against his.
She thinks she’s going to fall asleep.
Bucky lets his nose slide against hers, tilting his head just slightly to capture her lips in a soft and gentle kiss.
“You really have to go in the morning?” He asks, pouting his bottom lip like a little boy.
“Ayo and Okoye need me. I need them. We need possession of the orifice necklace.” She states, her authority and dominance showing him that there is no hesitation in the matter, leaving no room for anything to get in the way.
He respected this greatly.
“I’ll be damned to find out why that necklace is so special that you must be away from me for a weekend,” he brings her hand to his lips and kisses the matte black band on the ringer finger. It was interlaced with gold vibranium, “unacceptable. you’ve only been my wife for nine days and I already have to let you go.”
Nusara chuckled.
“Forty-eight hours. It’s barely letting me go.” She leans forward and kisses him again, “I’ll return Monday morning. We have to start packing anyway to go back to Wakanda. Did you forget our beautiful home awaits us?”
“And our little goats.” Bucky adds with a small chuckle.
“The goats are to stay at the farm, James. I mean our home.”
Bucky smiles and nods slowly.
He lets go of her hand and grabs the side of her waist, bringing her in closer to him.
“I know, Asa. I know.”
Asa drapes her left arm over Bucky’s torso and rests her right cheek just over heart.
In minutes, they’re both asleep in his small Brooklyn apartment where they had fallen more in love two years ago.
~
Monday evening rolls around faster than Bucky had thought it would. With packing and getting things ready for his move back to Wakanda, it took up most of his time and it kept him busy.
He had packed most of his things. He left most of Asa’s stuff untouched as to not invade her privacy, nor the Dora Milaje’s.
The black and red cape he was gifted on his wedding day to wear is the last thing he packs away into suitcase before he hears a knock at the front door.
He’s confused as he look at the door.
All his friends weren’t in town so it couldn’t be Sam or Wanda. The Thunderbolts haven’t been together in months, and Yelena was oversees.
Asa never knocked.
Bucky, with the help of his job to the government, had special biometric locks installed at his apartment so she would just use that to get in.
A knock wasn’t necessarily normal so the uneasy feeling he gets is expected.
Letting out a deep breath, he finishes zipping up the bag and stands up on sturdy legs before making his way over to the door.
When he opens it, standing there are Nakia and Ayo holding their vibranium spear, their postures high and head straight.
Standing in front of them is Shuri.
Aside from the formal arrival, what pushes Bucky’s nerves off the edge is Ayo’s obvious tear streaked cheeks.
His stomach sinks.
Hard.
“White wolf.” Shuri’s tone when she calls Bucky his title is sturdy but soft.
He knows that tone all to well.
Bucky ignores her completely, his trained eyes fixing on Ayo. Through much training and durability, she looks strong and powerful, but Bucky’s experience quickly helps him see the falt in her facade.
Her inexperience to hide emotion is in her eyes and the way she is currently blinking.
Bucky has a gut feeling but he won’t listen to it unless it’s said.
He puffs out his chest and his eyes stay on Ayo.
“Where’s Asa and Okoye?” Bucky asks Ayo. But Ayo is staring over his shoulder, unmoving, “Ayo-”
“Sergeant Barnes-” Shuri starts again.
“Okoye is back in Wakanda already.” Ayo responds, cutting Shuri off.
Bucky’s expression doesn’t change but his left eye twitches slightly. He can feel his hand tightening around his doorknob.
Nakia, Ayo, and Shuri step foot into the apartment, forcing Bucky to take a step backwards.
The door is closed behind them.
It’s then, in the privacy and intimate setting of his and Asa’s home, that Bucky’s walls start to deteriorate a little more. His breathing picks up and his eyes are switching back and forth between the three women.
They also are less stiff and Shuri’s eyes soften.
Time goes by slowly as nothing is said.
Bucky’s practically huffing out of his nose now as he take another step back.
“No.” Is all he says. It’s a low growl.
“I’m sorry—” Shuri barely gets her words out before Bucky’s palms goes to his eyes and he closes his lids tightly.
“No.” He says loudly.
“Bucky—” Shuri tries again.
Her words this time are cut off by a very audible shaky inhale through his nose.
Oh, he was going to cry.
They watch as his fingers grip into his hair, his eyes finally opening and gaze gluing down to the ground.
“I’m very sorry, Sargent Barnes.” Nakia.
His face turns into an angry snarl as he turns around.
“Damn it, damn it,” he repeats. His left hand grabs desperately as his hair, “damn it!” He yells so loudly it bounces off the walls.
His vision is compromised now. Water is all he can see.
Pain and anger is all he can feel.
Ayo isn’t one to easily flinch, but Bucky’s kick to the glass coffee table does it for her.
“No, no, no,” he keeps saying to himself. Shuri swallows hard, wiping a lone tear off her face that had fallen during his last yell, “Shuri, no.” Bucky whimpers as he finally turns around to face them. Their heart breaks as they watch him finally burst into tears, “please.”
Bucky looks like he’s moments away from collapsing, his face paling dramatically, when Shuri’s hands goes to his shoulders. She gives him a sympathetic look as she guides them both slowly to sit down on his couch. The shards of glass breaks underneath her shoes and the soft fabric of the sofa underneath them, is the only sound for a few seconds until they are finally next to each other.
He falls apart.
Bucky brings her in for a tight hug.
She swallows thickly as his sobs echo loudly around the room.
They don’t know how long they stay like that.
It feels like hours until he speaks again.
Eyes bloodshot, he stares at his hands between his knees as he picks at them.
He’s also cried out; heart and soul deflated.
“How’d it happen?” He asks, ripping off the bandaid.
His voice is hoarse and he sounds rough.
“We had traced down the orifice. We were just about to enter the chamber it was located in when our entire system was breached,” Nakia states with a steady voice, “it caught us all off guard. He—” she stops right away and Bucky’s eyes drifts from his hands to the space above it. He knows she’s talking about whoever it was that murdered his wife, “It— we don’t know who the figure was—it wore all black, covered head to two, not nearly as skilled but it caught us off guard enough that when they came in—” Bucky’s face twists at this, he almost looks disgusted and physically repulsed by what he was hearing, “she was the one inside —it was fast. Too fast for reaction.”
There’s a long silence. They can feel his fury as Bucky slowly stares up at Nakia.
“You’re telling me,” He sounds menacing and cold, “an incompetent criminal in comparison to the Dora Milaje, caught my wife and her friends off guard enough to kill her in a fraction of a second and escape fast enough for you to not even see who the hell they were?”
His loud voice reverbs around them.
They felt guilty, and just as pained as him.
Nakia swallows thickly and blinks away the tears in her eyes.
“They were fast.”
“I heard you the first damn time!” He screams.
Ayo’s spear comes down hard in front of Nakia as a form of protection.
Bucky stands abruptly and points behind him as he stares at Nakia.
“My wife was in there alone! You let her go in alone! You left her without protection, without guarding her back. You let her with a will of your own step into that room and didn’t think to keep your guard up after a breaching, and watched her get killed!”
A spear is placed horizontally to his throat by Ayo and Bucky swallows hard.
He knows better than to react this way.
These girls weren’t just the most powerful women he had ever known in his life and deserved the upmost respect, especially after what they’ve done for him, but they were his friends.
He’s being emotional and irrational.
“James. Step back.” Ayo says. Bucky does as he is told, more tears falling out of his eyes, “Nakia wasn’t even on this mission.”
Bucky looks at Ayo. He sniffs.
“But you were, Ayo.”
Ayo swallows hard.
“I was,” her voice is less uneven, “And what she is telling you is the truth. None of us saw it coming. I don’t think the person that was there even realized we were either. I’m so truly sorry. I know you are in pain, and so are we. If we could’ve prevented it we would’ve, but it happened very quickly. She was killed before we realized someone else was even in there.”
He didn’t know what he wanted to do anymore. As his heart trembled, Bucky wasn’t sure if he wanted to set the world on fire or himself.
He steps away from them and walks over to his window. He looks outside into the Manhattan skyline.
He bites at his bottom lip as he tries to control more bottled emotions.
He refuses to look around his apartment, but it’s hard to when he sees some of the reflection of it in the glass.
It was a reminder that Asa had been here just two days ago, living a domestic life with him.
His heart pains again and he whimpers.
It takes him minutes to realize Ayo had come up behind him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“I’m assuming they got away? Since you don’t know who they are.” They don’t have to verbally respond. The silence is already an answer for him, “and that they got the necklace.”
Pointless mission.
Failed mission.
With a cost- a loss.
His wife.
“How did it happen?” He asks, emotionless.
He had to find out information. He needed it. No matter how hard.
“Gun shot.”
He swallows the knock in his throat and keeps his back rigid, eyes never deviating from the skyline.
“Where?” He asks next. There’s a long silence and he can feel his anger brewing even further. Brewing for the stranger that did this to his wife, “where?”
“Her skull.”
Bucky cringes.
“Fuck.” He breathes out.
He runs a hand down his face.
“And Okoye?”
“Stray bullet grazed her cheek. She’s in recovery.”
~
Bucky’s welcome to Wakanda a week later was much more than warming.
Everyone was heartfelt and kind to him. He appreciated it, he always would from this country, but he also expected no less.
They felt pity for a young widower. For a loss of one of their greatest in their force.
The loss of a powerful woman, the greatest he’s ever known; fallen to a bullet.
He never would’ve expected this. Not in a million years.
The funeral is a nightmare. People greet him as if they’ve known him forever, some he never even knew. They don’t give him space and they mention her name each time.
He could only handle so much.
He hates thinking about it, but her coffin is gorgeous, laced in gold and red vibranium.
He watches, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, as its lowered to its resting place at the end of the evening, just before sun fall.
Bucky doesn't take off his wedding ring.
He doesn’t think he ever will.
The Wakandans still allow him to reside in the city if he chooses. He’s surprised they’ve even given him an option since what happened with Zemo. Asa had been, for the most part, his plane ticket in.
His and Asa’s beautiful apartment remains untouched and brand new. It grazes the highest of clouds as it overlooks the rivers and hills he’s learned to call home.
Now, this beauty reminds him of his lost love. It physically breaks his heart.
Looking into the bright orange sun, he’s reminded of the stolen nights in the huts.
He remembers their long nights where they would help their goats and sheep give birth to their little babies, when she had taught him how to bottle feed them.
When they had fallen deeply in love and had their beautiful Wakandan wedding.
Being here, in their apartment, without her, felt wrong.
“Hey.” Sam’s voice startles Bucky for a moment before he turns around to face his best friend.
Sam gives him a weak but genuine smile.
Bucky sticks his hands in his pockets and looks back into the setting Sun.
“Doesn’t feel right being here anymore.” Bucky feels that anger again, the one that makes him physically boil.
“What’s next?” Sam asks.
“I’m going to find him, Sam. I’m going to find who did this and stick a knife through his heart.”
~
You
Your life was destroyed at nineteen years old.
Up until then, you served as a Hydra operative. Your father was one and Hyda is all you’ve known. You were taught by them and trained by them. Willingly, you stayed. You worked as a recruited spy, performing mediocre missions for them when needed.
It had been going well for you, until your nineteenth birthday.
You were taken in the middle of the night, drugged and blind folded.
When you woke up, your living hell began.
You woke up in a dark cell.
To your left was a bolted door that probably weighed hundreds of pounds. To the right of that was a little metal bucket.
The stench was unbearable and you were freezing cold.
The walls around you were cement, molded, and so was the floor underneath you. You were terrified as you continued to awaken from your drugged state, finally gathering the energy to begin crawling at the chains around your wrist.
You were chained.
You began hyperventilating.
You became frantic as you tried getting them off.
“Hayden.” You stopped. The voice got your attention and you looked towards the door. It began to creak open. You found yourself moving away from the man, your legs flailing wildly as you tried to get away, but he kept getting closer. “Hayden.” He says again.
“That’s—that’s not my name.” You stutter out, throat dry like sand paper.
“It is now.” He crouches down in front of you and repeats, “Hayden.”
You didn’t have the patience for games.
“Where am I?” You ask, stronger this time.
“You’re at a Hydra facility, agent.”
You frown.
You were being held captive, treated as an enemy. Why were you taken against your will? By your own people?
“I don’t understand. I would’ve just come if asked.”
The man chuckles and shakes his head.
“Not for this,” he leaches forward for a strand of your hair and rolls it between his fingers, “you were chosen specifically for this, but we wanted to make sure you wouldn’t back out.”
You felt pride.
“As long as it’s in the desire of Hydra and helps us, I most likely wouldn’t back out.” You say matter-of-factly.
It’s then that you realize your face is covered entirely. The only thing peaking out are your eyes. That’s why your voice was muffled.
The dark eyed man nods his head.
“You were chosen as test subject zero eight seven six for the orifice experiment.” He says.
You’ve heard of it before.
“Human enhancement, but with the capability of healing and given any power of their choosing, based off placebo and free will. Mental. It’s energy is off psychosis.” You say.
“Correct. Which is why it needs to be a hydra agent. Your power of your choosing will side with our shared desires. Your controlled power will originate from this,” he holds something up in front of you.
It’s a gold chain, and dangling off of it is a red stone, circle shaped.
It shines, its light bouncing off your face.
It was gorgeous.
You find yourself reaching for it naturally before he pulls it away from you.
“We will train you, little girl. Then we’ll begin experiments. But between experiments, your endurance will be put to the test.”
You could only frown as you heard the door open again.
When your eyes landed on the new guest of arrival, a shiver ran down your spine.
You weren’t star struck.
You were repulsed.
Despite the urge to get away as far as possible, his blue eyes were startling in the darkness of the room. They were piercing and hard to look away from.
You had only ever heard about him.
Hydra’s biggest and best asset.
The man who not only surpassed you in every way possible, but believed in everything you didn’t.
It didn’t matter to you that he was now part of Hydra, because in reality he wasn’t.
He, Bucky, believed in everything you didn’t. This man in front of you right now was just a puppet.
You never understood how Hydra could accept that.
You hate everything he stood for as both Bucky and the winter soldier.
You were equally envious of this Weapon as you were disgusted by it.
He had only gotten so close to you before you quickly hocked up what you had in your throat and spat it at his shoe.
“Slap her.” The man instructs loudly, “Enough to hurt, but not kill.”
Oh, bring it.
You grunted before the pain escaped in your skull. Your head fell back against the wall and you could taste the iron in your mouth.
Your vision went black for a fraction of a second.
“Hayden, this is just the start. He will make you endure pain so you can build your endurance and tolerance to it. And you’ll learn to take it.”
You didn’t enjoy this part of your gift.
You spat at the winter soldier’s feet again, this time blood was mixed in with your saliva.
“Hit me again, you piece of shit.” You grit your teeth at the soldier.
The man looks at Bucky and nods at him, and as the soldier is about to hit you, you kick his arm away, making him fall forward. You wrap your legs tightly around his head.
You let out a growl as you began to choke him with your thighs.
“Fight back, soldat.” You grunt through clenched teeth.
The soldier obliged, easily slipping from your grip and wrapping his left hand around your trachea.
You gasped for breath as you stared at those soulless eyes.
Blue like the sky on a sunny day.
Your least favorite kind of weather.
“Tomorrow will be your first dose, Hayden.” The man kicks the Weapon’s leg to let you go, “Soldat.”
You gasped again as his grip left your throat and you were able to breathe again.
“Rot in hell, you disgusting pig.” You say hoarsely through burning pain.
~
You were excited to be Hydra’s next test subject, and it started off well.
After your first dose of the burning drug, you became faster and gained more dexterity. You’ve never felt anything like that very first dose. You were convinced, you were all convinced, it was going to be a success.
But that was also when the accident happened.
You knew it was an accident when it happened, and not intentional, because you knew for a fact that Hydra wanted you in prime condition. They wanted you trained, but they didn’t want anything getting in the way of the experiment failing.
It happened fast.
You had been in the room again with the soldier. Your face was still covered, minus your eyes. You figured they wanted your identity hidden.
Bucky’s eyes never left yours. Not when you were punching him or when he kicked your head.
He had stood up, stepped on your cheek with his boot, and forced your face into the ground.
You’ve never felt any pain like it.
You grabbed his leg, pulling him down onto you when you felt that searing pain in your lower stomach.
You were gasping and breathing as your wide eyes stared back into his cold ones.
What the fuck did he just do?
“Soldat!” The shout came and the soldier quickly pulled himself off of you, knife still in hand.
They had punished him in a severe way that night, as deserved, and you were taken away to the medical wing.
For the first time in your short life, you almost showed a reaction of sorrow when after your surgery the doctor that told you he had shredded your entire uterus.
They had to use 15 litters of blood to keep you stable.
After three weeks in recovery, and being of no use to your people, you were finally allowed to resume training again.
This time, the soldier was only pulled out for you every once in a while.
Each time, you wanted to kill him. Kill him for being a disgrace to existence and for taking away something you never really wanted until it was gone.
After your second dose, you were the same in terms of strength and skill, but when three weeks went by without another dosage, they could sense something was wrong.
You started getting sick.
You were dying.
It didn’t take much for everyone to realize you were being poisoned by the serum.
Wether it was the incident with the soldier that threw it off, it was never confirmed, but suspected.
After your fourth dosage, you got better again, almost like a cure, and you were able to go three and a half weeks without getting sick.
With each dosage you stayed better for longer, but that was all it did for you.
Hydra took you off the mission five months later, choosing they’d terminate the project all together. You weren’t gaining more powers and it was killing you instead.
Issue with that was you now needed the dosage to keep surviving. After your eighth and last dosage at the facility, you’d knew you’d only be okay for two months before your body started dying again.
They promised to help you by sending you what you needed to keep you going. By your first year, you noticed your cure time was no longer prolonging. After each dosage, you’d only be able to be okay for four months before you got sick again.
The feeling you got when you were sick and being poisoned was unbearable.
It’s been ten years, and you still weren’t used to it.
You never had to worry about a lack of shortage or help since Hydra still had smart scientists prepping your medicine for you.
That is, until exactly three months ago when you got the news that the orifice dose was being discontinued due to lack of certain resources.
“They expect me to just die?”
“There is one way. One way we can try. The orifice necklace. Its power is immeasurable. Some of the strongest on earth. Maybe it could even cure you.” Your closest friend, and your favorite Hydra agent partner, Ivan says.
The orifice necklace.
“Gabrïël destroyed that after he found out my mission was a failure.” You say.
“That wasn’t the real one, Hayden. I can tell you where it is, but the issue is, there are others after it now, too.”
“Who?”
“Wakanda. Even some of the lasting Avengers. Other spies working for the government. Sword, even.”
“Tell me where it is. I can get there first.”
The night before you left for Mexico for the orifice necklace, you stared at what little you had left of your medication in your medicine cabinet.
You had two doses left, one which you would need to take in four weeks.
If you didn’t get that necklace soon, you were dead in nine months.
You wouldn’t dare tell a soul, but you were terrified.
Your hand trembled as you held one of the remaining doses.
You didn’t want to die, and least of all, you didn’t want to run into anyone while trying to retrieve it.
One of the people which was a complete waste and a vermin in your eyes.
You took a deep breath, and put the bottle back in the cabinet. You walked back to your room and sat on your bed.
You began looking through your photos on your phone.
It was a photo of you and Leo, your best friend, just a week before his murder.
He was killed by the attack in New York by the Avengers nearly a decade ago.
This was your reason for trying to get that necklace.
You would keep yourself alive for him.
Placing your phone down next you, you then roll up your left sleeve.
A large scar runs down the skin.
He had done that after your third dose.
You had then stabbed him in his thigh. You felt great when you’d done it, but when you were finally alone in your cell, you cried for the first time.
Bucky Barnes.
That’s what his name was.
~
“Get me in, Ivan.” You spoke through your com, “I can get out just fine with my speed, but I need it open first.”
“I’m trying, Y/N. You need to bare with me. Try going a little to your right.” Ivan says.
You roll your eyes and hold your arms a little higher. You had already gotten inside the coal mine and you were standing just outside the chamber, but through the back.
To avoid any possible run ins with the cocky avengers, you both decided this was the best approach.
You were lasering thorough the thick rocks, but the laser was acting up.
Just when you’re about to to complete the circle, it goes out again.
“Jesus, fuck, Ivan.”
“I’m doing my best here. I’m pulling what power I can without the risk of calling attention. Even if that side of the freaks aren’t here, if Hydra even finds out too, we’re screwed. They don’t know we’re here stealing this.”
“Don’t know why they never tried to get it before. Also, do you really think the avengers are even here yet? They don’t have the same power of jets they used to have when their lord and savior Stark was still around. And Hydra will give me a promotion for this. That is, if this necklace really works and actually saves my life.” Your voice drifts our towards the end.
“You’ll be fine.” Ivan says quietly, “Got it!” Just as he says that, the power returns to your laser and it finishes the cut. You keep your left hand on the rock so it doesn’t fall and make a loud noise. You lay it gently down on the floor.
You stand back and look at it.
“I guess it’s big enough for me to crawl through.”
“Make it fast.” Ivan says.
With a sigh you stick the laser in your back leather pocket and crawl down onto all fours. You shimmy your way through the whole and into the chamber Ivan led you to. It’s dark, smells like wet earth, and is humid. Your eyes dart around the room, until finally you find a marble box on a stand on the far right side of the room.
You were thankful for your enhanced eye sight. You knew a regular person wouldn’t be able to see it right away.
You could feel your excitement brewing.
This was your ticket to survival.
You didn’t want to die.
You open the box, and you feel the tears brewing in your eyes when you see it.
A beautiful red stone.
You take it into your hand. You don’t feel different yet, but you figured it takes time.
A very small sound of a foot on a small rock has you quickly going for your gun on your waist.
Pulling your face and hair covering higher over your head, you blindly aim your gun behind you, giving away three shots.
You know reaction is reckless and stupid. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't haven’t pulled the trigger that soon, or at all. But with that necklace in your hand, you were afraid of losing it.
You were desperate. Your action was irrational as you shot at whatever was behind you, and escaping through your man made hole.
And then you ran and ran in the darkness.
The orifice necklace was right there, right in your hand.
“I have it, Ivan. I have it!” You shouted happily as you ran towards your jet.
“Make it quick, Y/N. I see something here on my radar.”
“On it.” You reply back curtly.
You retrace your steps with practice. The second you’re back in your seat, the sigh that leaves your mouth is palpable.
Ivan’s already in the pilot seat, getting the aircraft ready for take off.
You pull the necklace out of your jacket and stare at it in your hand.
Then something happens.
Your stomach drops.
There in your hand, the necklace begins to unravel into several pieces.
The red stone is the only thing still in tact, but in it is a message you hadn’t seen before.
Nice try.
~
Bucky
It’s been the hardest month of Bucky’s life since he’s been back.
He left Wakanda the day after the funeral.
He had decided that Brooklyn would be the best option for him.
His first home.
He still hung out with Sam and Wanda, and on occasion he kept contact with Yelena.
Him and Sam were the closest, though. They went on rogue missions together for the government and did their part when needed.
Every now and then, Peter Parker would stop by and say hello. It’s not like Queens was far. A whole different world, for sure, but he was practically a neighbor. Peter was like the little brother Bucky never had. It took him a second to warm up to Bucky, though.
Nobody would ever get closer to him as much as Steve or Sam ever did.
Getting used to life again after Asa was terrible.
Bucky even had to clean his internet history to make it.
They had googled places for puppy adoptions and vacation spots just the days before her death.
Bucky wouldn’t think about puppies for a long time now. Nor any vacations.
He just wanted to be alone.
The scarce missions with Sam helped some to distract him, but he’d still come home tired and depressed.
Everyday he’d try to contact Shuri or Ayo to find out any status of the mystery person from the chamber. When every-time he’d hear the same thing “nothing yet”, he’d do his own research, and also ask Sam for help.
One day, the answer was different.
“Hey, Buck. We’ve got a possible lead.”
He felt several emotions.
Excitement, fear, and anger.
For some reason, the confirmation of an actual killer reminded him that this wasn’t some nightmare he was just dreaming.
This was real.
Bucky had never sped so fast on his motorcycle before. Running a few red lights and nearly getting hit by a suv was the least of his concerns right now.
When he arrives to where the mission meetings have been held lately, Fury is already sitting there with Sam to his right.
“The Orifice Necklace,” Fury starts, a photo of it is on the screen behind him. Bucky eyes it like it’s the most disgusting thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. What was so special about this piece of shit necklace? “It’s a supernatural stone that releases some kind of healing power. Wakanda has known about it longer because of security reasons. They don’t want this in the wrong hands,” Bucky still doesn't understand the hype, but he understands it’s danger now in the wrong hands. Whoever it was that killed Asa really wanted it for some self gain, “Under certain circumstances, they’ve decided to ask us for help. The orifice necklace that was at the chamber in Mexico was a fake. The real one was taken we suspect maybe months before. We actually think it’s in the position of some undercover agent in Sword, which makes this tricky. Reasons for suspicions aren't disclosed other than sword members reporting strange incidents since a few months ago.” Fury says.
Bucky scoffs
“I know, Barnes, this isn’t easy for you—”.
“What?” Bucky practically laughs out the word, “you think going after the person who killed Asa is hard for me?”
“You aren’t to kill that target. That person doesn’t even have it. Their death is no use to us. Bring them in alive and alive only.”
“Are you going to tell me where?” Bucky asks.
“You sure Bucky is the right person for this? He’s too close to this case.” Sam says.
“You’ll both go together.” Fury answers. He turns back to Bucky, “There will be a gala in Venice next weekend. We suspect that the person who knows who has the real necklace, the person from the chamber, will also be at this event,” Fury doesn’t lose eye contact with Bucky when he says the next part very slowly; “We suspect them to be Hydra affiliated.”
Bucky’s jaw clenched and his nose flares.
“I expect no less from an inhumane group of people.” He’d say worst, and he wants to, but he’s feeling emotional again. He quickly rubs his nose over the back of his hand and moves up closer to Fury, clearing his throat, “Name?”
“We only have one name that came up in suspicion, based off an experiment that was done ten years ago. It was in a file we found during one of our hydra facility raids. Experiment Orifice. The subject’s name is Hayden,” Bucky takes in a deep breath as he hears the name for the first time.
“Any distinctive features to watch out for?”
“A scar on their left arm. Starting from the palm to the elbow. That’s all we know.”
“Bucky. You’re really sure you want to be the one to do this?” Sam asks, unsure about this whole thing.
“Who else are we gonna call, Sam? Wanda’s lost her shit. Peter’s a bartender now. Who the fuck knows where thor is. We have no options anymore. Even Maria is dead,” Bucky stands up, “We’ll go.”
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𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐏𝐮𝐧𝐤
𝐌𝐨𝐛 𝐁𝐨𝐬𝐬!𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭...
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖𝟎𝟎 𝐢𝐬𝐡
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐍𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐈 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭…. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲.
𝐀/𝐍: 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠, 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 🥲
𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 @firefly-graphics
𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 @maysdigitalarts
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This little punk…
Thought he could get away with it. Get away with disrespecting his girl. That this lack of respect to you, the woman on the arm of him; Bucky Barnes, would not go unpunished?
Hell no.
This little wise guy. Some mouthy little man he was. Who even was he?! Someone who oughta know better, that’s for damn sure.
His woman had called, tired and fraught sounding, and she laid it all out for him. How this guy just didn’t listen to a damn thing she said, how he even laughed at her. It made her sad, and Bucky Barnes, boss of one of the most profitable “import/export” businesses around, was not going to tolerate this behaviour.
He had bought out Mayors, had lied to judges and had the chief of police in his back pocket. Ain't no way that this little kid was acting out on his turf.
He had done a lot worse for a lot less. Bucky’s wife was his world, kept his dark soul just barely straddling the line. Her touch was sunlight, starlight, moonlight… her smile was what soothing dreams and restful sleeps were made of.
And she had called him and threatened him with permanent castration if he didn’t get his ass home and help her out with this little punk!
His car, a Jaguar F Type in gunmetal grey, naturally, sped into his driveway, gravel flying just a little and causing his scowl to deepen just a little more. Now his paintwork might be ruined… great.
Bucky’s jacket came off, no way he was getting any dirt on this hand stitched masterpiece, and he rolled up the sleeves on his silk shirt. He would’ve liked to change into one of his t-shirts, it was going to get messy whilst he was dealing with the trouble making tyke… but his wife’s words still rang in his ears.
Bucky wasn’t going to be the guy that pushed her over the edge today, oh no, he was not.
The key went in the lock, the door flew open and his boots thudded against the tiled floor until he reached his goal. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, a warm golden glow that contrasted terribly with his dark and foul mood,
“So… you’re just gonna sit there, huh?”
The thug that had disrespected his wife stared up at him, blinking owlishly from his tethered position on the chair,
“Not even attempt to say a word in your defence, huh? Guess that’s too much to expect from someone like you, ain’t it?”
The kid had the nerve to smile at him. Bucky almost felt something like pride… but today was no day for letting things slide because the guy had guts,
“You know who I am, tough guy? You got any idea what I could do? You need to wise up or-!”
“James Buchanan Barnes! Are you talkin’ trash to our son again?!”
Bucky Barnes jumped, shrieked far too loudly to be considered manly, and cursed when his ten month old son threw his food at him, laughing hysterically and sounding like that overpowered little guy from The Incredibles.
Bucky’s silk shirt was black… the food was green…
“Awww… Brandon! That was my best shirt, kid!”
Another giggle from his son’s chubby and smiling face, and Bucky felt all his anger drain away. His baby boy had his gumption and love for life, he didn’t care who knew it.
“Well, I told you he was acting like a spoiled brat today, Bucky. He’s all yours, you can take him, that shirt and the rest of the clothes in the bag over there to the dry cleaners and pick up food whilst I go and soak in the tub,”
She still sounded tired, but her loving smile only grew when he picked up Brandon before giving her a kiss. Soft and sweet lips against his… his biggest weakness and his ultimate strength. Where he would be without her was not something he wanted to consider very often… but it would be a darker place than where he was now, that was for sure,
“Okay, honey, go and get relaxed, I’ll take my boy out on the town, show him the real New York, huh? We’ll be back later with clean clothes and pepperoni pizza, yeah?”
“Thank you, Bucky. Have fun and try not to get in too much trouble, okay?”
She leaves them then, walking up the stairs to peace and quiet, leaving Bucky alone with his baby boy. Bright eyes in a forever smiling face and more love inside that tiny body than Bucky ever felt he deserved.
Going straight was hard, but for his family, it was worth it.
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bucknastysbabe · 1 year
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Heyo the Bucky rdr western au has much more plot than expected. I have an old one that didn’t get much traction from Ao3 so wanted to post and see if y’all liked it! So something to tide over :)
Rating: Explicit
Tags: Derogatory language towards a woman, outlaws duh, light description of puking, rough handling, bickering bitches, sex pollen (or potion in this case), strip poker, cunnilingus, Bucky’s huge dick, dirty talk, rough pnv!sex, cream pie, pregnancy, open ending, love at first intercourse, ambiguous ending
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Bayou Bonding
The boy who carried his father’s blue, blue eyes toothily smiled at you. He sat by the fire in your father’s manor, dressed in fine clothes. You named him James; after his father. He stared at the fire with a contemplative look on his face before asking, “How did you meet Daddy?” You blanched, Bucky was a sore topic around your home. A blight on one of Saint Denis’ finest families. You told the boy a watered down version of the truth, but your mind wandered back to the day.
1879, Saint Denis, LE
“Unhand me! You— you cowpoke!,” you hollered.
A gloved hand slapped over your mouth, the other wrangling you close to his body. The burly cowboy hissed, “Shut it! Howling ain’t gonna do you a damn thing.” You thrashed more, stomping a heeled foot into his foot. He grunted in pain, slinging you into the ground. Ragged ropes cut into your skin as the outlaw hogtied you. He shoved a dirty kerchief in your mouth, and hauled you up over his shoulder.
Another man, a lean blonde snickered, “Feisty one eh Buck?” The surly man cursed, “Too Fuckin’ feisty. Uppity little bitch.” You yowled behind your gag, trying to knee him in the back. The two men cautiously carried you down a back alley. Two horses waited in the murky gloom. ‘Buck’ and his smirking compatriot had plucked you from the Mayor’s party, for what you assumed was ransom. As sheriff, your daddy didn’t mix with the right people all the time.
Buck flipped you onto the back of his huge black horse, you crying out at the rough handling. The pair hopped on their horses, and off you went into the night. The movement of the galloping horse was making you sick. From what you could see they were taking you North into the swampy wasteland of Bayou Nwa. You managed to spit your gag out, but before you could speak, a rush of your dinner decided to make its appearance.
“For fuck’s sake! Tell me why Stark sent me to do this shit?,” the darker man spat. The other man laughed again, chuckling airily as you watched his bow bounced across his back. Buck rumbled, “Quit yer’ laughing Clint or she’s going on the back of ole’ Hawkeye.” Clint shut up and kept riding on.
You really wishes you could’ve taken off your corset, but one doesn’t prepare for kidnapping on horseback by dirty cowboys. The stink of the swamp started to envelop your nose as they closed into the darkness. Buck lit a lamp, you could watch it’s shadow away across the muddy ground. The pair stopped at a dilapidated dock, illuminated only by the sparse moonlight and the lamp. A dingy waited in the pitch water. Your vision swam as Buck hauled you to the boat, gently lowering you down to not disturb the boat.
You complained, “Atleast cut my feet, I’m not stupid enough to go jump in a damn gator infested swamp!”
Clint shrugged and pulled out a knife, cutting the rope after he sat down. Buck protested, “No you damn fool, what happens when we get out of the boat? Dumbass.” You rolled your eyes and muttered, “Like I’m going to either run away from heavily armed criminals.” The big man grumbled under his breath as he stepped down into the dingy. You dusted yourself off, taking a breath as you adjusted your corset. You wrinkled your nose at the smell of horse on your crinoline dress.
Buck began rowing, blue eyes scanning the misty swamp. Clint leaned back, staring up at the stars. He offhandedly asked, “So. You know your daddy is crooked? Don’t even start Barnes!” Bucky called Clint a dumbass, again. You replied, “I had a feeling. Not my business, I’m just here to look pretty and get engaged if it wasn’t for you dirty cowboys.”
“Not cowboys.”
“Outlaws,” you said in an exaggerated accent.
You crossed your arms and huffed, “Great. I really hope you two know your way around the Bayou. Then we’re all dead. Anyways how long is this ‘holding me for ransom’ to last. The entirety of the Saint Denis Police will be looking for me. Your gang must be on some hard times.”
“Shut it!,” Bucky barked.
Clint stage whispered, “We have a map. Headed to a safe house. And until he pays up, killing you has no purpose.”
You nodded solemnly, listening to the sounds of the bayou. This place had always intrigued and scared you. Your grand-mère told you stories of ghosts, pirates, the night folk and such. Although there were much more real, scary things than stories happening to you now. Clint said you weren’t in harms way but Bucky’s cold eyes frightened you.
The boat pulled up onto an old stilted house. There was a dim red lamp in the window. Bucky paddled the dingy flush to the dock, mooring with some rope. Clint stepped out first, extending a hand to you. You thanked him as the wiry blonde helped you up. Bucky trudged out last, pushing you into the shack. “Go on”, he growled.
Clint carefully slithered back into the weathered dingy. He cheerily announced, “Have fun in the swamp shack you two. Pleasure to meet you miss, Bucky doesn’t bite,” he paused, “Atleast I don’t think he does. Anyways I have to get back to the gang, see you around when the ransom is paid.”
You spluttered, “Why can’t he go? I don’t want to be stuck with this brute!”
Bucky glared at you, hands balling into fists.
Clint cackled, “Rule’s rules miss. I’d love to entertain you another time. Have a good night.”
You stomped into the shack, petulantly sitting on a weathered chair. You complained, “It smells like gator shit in here.” Bucky ignored you in favor of closing the small curtains. You watched him move. For a big man, he carried himself lightly. Maybe if he took a bath and had a trim, he’d even be attractive. Blue eyes turned on you.
You held your ground and deadpanned, “I meant it. You’re greasy and smell like horse.”
He collapsed into an ancient armchair, pulling out some gun oil. Bucky remarked, “You’re just a ray of sunshine aren’t you? Just shut up and lemme’ clean my gun. Yer’ daddy will pick you up soon and you can go back to your bubble.”
He dissembled the pistol efficiently, carefully cleaning each part. You watched him quietly, holding your tongue for everyone’s sanity. You really wanted to take off your corset, the tightness was driving you insane. You held off until your head felt light. With a weak voice you asked, “Bucky. Mister Outlaw.” Sleepy eyes turned to you, his brow quirking up in question.
“I need to take my corset off.”
“Well take it off.”
You whinged, “I need help for that you dullard! Just loosen the laces and I have the rest.” He remained stubbornly silent so you simply began to remove the outer layers of your extravagant outfit. Then you walked over to the ass and turned around. He mumbled, “Spoiled rotten. Fine, you want a plate of cheese and grapes with this madam?” Thick fingers started to loosen the corset, you taking a deep breath of air. You unlatched the front of it, now clad in your pantaloons and blouse. You breathed, “Thank you, and yes that would be delightful sir.”
Bucky gazed at your body as you were turned around, reluctantly appreciating the view. He threw his coat at you and chided, “Cover up.” With a disgusted look you put it on. The smell of leather and herbs was nice, but the stink of horse still lingered. Very warm coat too. You gawked at the filthy mattress in the corner of the shack. It was covered in stains and had a ragged blanket strewn across it. Grabbing your extensive overwear, you managed to cover the mattress and make a pillow out of your bustle pad.
“Hm. Maybe some brains under there. I know they don’t let you city girls learn much.”
You snapped, “I’ll have you know!” You stopped when you realized Bucky had made a very solid point. With a frown you crawled onto your emerald green crinoline pallet. Cuddling into the jacket you let a few tears slip. You hoped you’d be home soon and out of this mess. Your eyes began to droop as you listened to Bucky cleaning his weapons and the crackle of the small fire he started. You said a rosary in your head and drifted asleep.
You awoke to the darkness. Rain pattered against the tin roof. Bucky sat cross legged, reading a book. You prayed to the lord for sleeping safely. As you stretched and sat up he gruffly mumbled, “Mornin’.” You shot back, “Did you not sleep? Stare at me all night instead? I thought your type would take advantage of a helpless lady.” His brows furrowing made you cringe at your lack of forethought.
“Our gang might be criminals but we’re not deviants. You’d like that though, wouldn’t ya? Big scary cowboy rippin’ yer’ bodice,” Bucky smugly replied.
You remained silent, picking at your nails anxiously. The brunette licked his full bottom lip and closed his book with a soft thwip.
He stood up and handed you an open can of beans. You stared at the outlaw incredulously, eyes flicking back and forth from the gross looking food. You primly spoke, “Hate to ruin the moment but do you have an apple or crackers? I’m not eating that.”
He huffed a laugh and rifled through a satchel before tossing you an apple. Bucky busied himself with the beans, eating like it was his last meal. You stared in horror at the scene as you ate your apple. Bucky rolled his eyes as he inhaled the last scoop. You scoffed, “I need to get out of this smelly swamp shack or I’m going to feed myself to the the gators.” Bucky smirked at you, an amused look in his eyes.
“No can do, just gonna’ have to hop out of your bejeweled carriage Princess,” he chuckled.
You threw your hat at the smarmy cowpoke, which he easily caught with a surprised grin. You had to suppress your thoughts on his endearingly crooked grin. You spat, “Oh piss off, I’m not damn Cinderella! I just happen to have manners and morals !” Bucky snorted, “Not using your manners curssin’ at me and throwin’ hats in your skivvies!” You groaned in frustration, taking a particularly vicious bite of your apple.
Bucky busied himself back with his book, leaving you to boredom. So you shucked off the heavy jacket in the hot shack and rummaged around the place. Bucky raised a brow but ignored you. You found a loose floorboard and pried it open. Some strange marking in chalk lined the bottom of the space. Multiple glass jars and dried herbs littered the hidey-hole. You picked up some sort of carved charm, setting it back down carefully. A small bag of coins jingled as you inspected the sack.
It looked like some old hoodoo or voodoo practitioner lived here. You hoped it was the more spiritually benevolent voodoo. Bucky stomped over to you and bellowed, “What in fucks name are you doing?” You yelped and threw the coins at Bucky. After a breath you replied, “I got bored! Found this stuff, some swampfolk left some voodoo trinkets. The man’s face paled as fear entered his blood.
Bucky scolded, “Why would you go mess around with that cursed shit! That’s bad luck— already have enough of that!” He kicked a chair and hollered, “God dammit woman!” You cowered at his outburst, squeaking out, “Voodoo isn’t bad! Hoodoo is, that’s what the Night Folk practice. My grand-mère told me about this, these are probably just luck charms and health elixirs. Relax, you’re scaring me!”
His handsome face fell, wiping a hand over his forehead. He amended, “My bad— I don’t mess around with shit like that. You’d know better than me, now just put that stuff away. C’mon princess, we’ll play cards. I got a deck in my satchel.” While Bucky spoke, you stuffed the remaining trinkets in your underclothes. He held out a hand to help you up, you daintily taking the rough grip.
“You got any drinks?,” you drawled. You were cooking up a plan, something to give you the upper hand. Bucky turned around with a bottle of fancy rum. You awed, “Aged pirate rum, living above your means huh? Rob that off a poor citizen of Lemoyne?” The brunette growled, “You gonna drink it or what?” You waved a hand and seized the bottle. You called over your shoulder as you found some old cups, “Get the game ready, I like rummy. My brother taught me how to play when he got out of the war.”
“Got out?”
“Legs blown off.”
“Damn. Sorry ‘bout that.”
You pulled out the two vials of mystery liquid, reading the labels. They were written in creole. You only knew Parisian French so you had to guess. One said companionship and the other was something along the lines of rest. So you shrugged and poured a bit of both into his cup. You finished off the companionship one in your drink. You didn’t want the outlaw to pick up on the herbal scent.
Bucky questioned, “What’s taking you so long?” You lord smoothly, “Found some dried mint for a little flavor, a lady needs some spice.” He scoffed and crossed his arms. You smirked to yourself as you tucked the empty vials away. You brought the drinks over and handed Bucky his. As expected he sniffed the rum, but didn’t make a fuss as he took a sip. You sat down and teased, “Get ready to get your hide tanned, cowpoke.”
So you drank, and played, and drank some more. You’d beaten Bucky two times before he slammed his hand down on the table and barked, “A’right! Let’s see your hand in poker, Princess!” He grinned wildly, blue eyes sparkling. He looked handsome when he smiled, dimples popping with endearingly crooked teeth. You were trying to take it slow but you felt the effects of the alcohol. Your face was flushed and you felt loose and erratic. Bucky was also wide open, talking much more than you’d ever expected him to.
You teased, “Let’s make this fun, Mister Barnes. How about strip poker? Never seen a cowboy naked.”
He balked at your forwardness, pink lips agape in surprise. Nervousness bolted through your body before Bucky tumbled forward with guffaws. He howled in laughter, “Hah! Miss high falutin’ wants to play strip poker! Aight then, let’s play!” His flush ran down his tanned neck and up to his ears. So the game began, and you felt on top of the world.
Soon you were short of pantaloons and Bucky sat only in his pants, broad chest on display. He was quite drunk now, slurring and flirting shamelessly. You’d slowed down some but vitality thrummed through your veins. Bucky’s lusty stares were starting to make your core ache. You hadn’t felt this aroused since that visiting French Aristocrat fucked you silly a year ago.
He smirked as he dealt his hand, a straight flush. You were beat. The man leaned back, thick thighs spreading invitingly. Bucky crooned, “Get that top off princess, uh-uh no backing out you started this.” You shot back, “Fine fine, lucky day for you cowpoke. High class lady showing you her bosom.” You shucked your top off and gestured at your naked body. Bucky’s eyes visibly darkened with lust and before he spoke you cut him off, “Nah. We aren’t done yet. I want another round.”
As the last round went maddeningly on, your arousal was beginning to spike. You couldn’t pay attention as your skin felt on fire. Your cunt had soaked your thighs and the wooden chair. Your nipples, hips, and nethers throbbed and swelled up. All you could think about was getting a cock in you. Bucky fared no better, his chest was flushed with stiffened nipples. You saw his hand rubbing needily between his legs. Sweat beaded on his temples and the man looked like he was going to jump your bones.
You slurred in a rare moment of clarity, “I thin’ I drugged us.”
Bucky snarled, shoving the table aside. He stalked over to you and dropped to his knees. Worn hands gripped your thighs as he rasped, “S’that why you smell so good n’ my cocks fixin’ to pop? Dumb little rich bitch.” You mewled, rutting your hips toward his swollen lips. He groaned at the sight of your swollen folds. The brunette muttered, “To hell with it.” He dug his face between your thighs, licking a broad stripe up your slick center.
One palm held your hip as the other skated up to your swollen nipples. He plucked and tweaked at the sensitive bud. You wailed in pleasure, bucking into his mouth. His stubbly cheeks rubbed you raw in the right way. Bucky was direct with his cunnilingus, attacking your clit mercifully. He’d dip down and slurp around your leaking cunt before going back to your bud.
You yanked a fistful of his dark hair, wrapping your legs around his meaty shoulders. He moaned into your sex, “G’fuckin girl.” You babbled uselessly, writhing in pleasure. Whatever you had put in the concoction was some sort of sex potion. You’d never felt all of your nerve endings alight like this. Your lower belly was beginning to contract as Bucky suckled on your clit while he stroked your inner walls. You were so out of it you weren’t sure when he’d slipping them in. But tears were welling up as he abused that sensitive, sensitive spot.
You keened, “Heavens above! Fuck ah ah mmh!”
He grinned against your pussy and nipped down on your clit, sending you reeling. You clamped down on his shoulders, folding on top of his body as you shook with the intense spasms. You bit your lip to keep from screeching like a banshee. You held onto Bucky’s head and panted, “Need— more— fuck need your cock Bucky please not enough.”
He shakily got up, detangling you from his body. You whined at the loss, him shushing you. Bucky cooed, “Hol’ on sweetheart lemme get ya somewhere more comfortable. M’ gonna fill you right up.” You moaned in agreement, latching into his strong arms as he hauled you to the makeshift crinoline pallet. He rubbed your back, hissing, “Need that pretty pussy baby, bet it’s Fuckin’ snug. M’ fucking raring to go, gonna wreck you. Never gonna look at a city boy again.”
“Mhm, yes please, need it need it Bucky!”
Bucky ungracefully tossed you on the cot and covered yourself with that sculpted body. He snatched your lips into a quick kiss, before shoving down his jeans to reveal his cock. It was almost purple from the amount of blood flushing the organ. You whimpered and spread your legs. Bucky growled, “Yeah— spread em’ like a good slut. Gonna wreck you.” He seated himself between your plush thighs and sheathed in a quick motion.
Your mouth opened to scream but he shoved a coarse palm over your lips. You felt complete, Bucky’s girthy cock filling you to the brim. You were so wet he met little to no resistance. Without warning the brunette started up a brutal pace, fucking into you in abandon. Slick clapping noises echoed around in the light of the late afternoon. His powerful hips and thighs pistoned into your sloppy core. You sobbed at the intensity, crying Bucky’s name like a prayer.
He gasped into you neck, panting about your perfect cunt. He slid his big hands under your knees, pressing you into a ball. The new angle
had the outlaw’s blunt tip ramming into your sweet spot. You scrabbled at his back, biting and sucking at his muscular shoulders like a feral animal. Bucky let out a pained moan,
“Fucking heavenly— good little slut. Yer’ ole’ daddy gonna be wondering why you can’t walk.”
You cried harder, wondering how the man was holding it together as he drilled you into next week. A second orgasm was approaching at a breakneck pace and threw your head back in ecstasy. Bucky laved his skilled tongue up the column of your throat, gripping your thighs. You yelled, “Oh ah— ah ah Buck m’gonna come again fuck!”
“Come on n’ take it darlin’, it’s all yours,” he spit through clenched teeth. The cowboy’s pace didn’t slow any as you reached your peak. Your legs spasmed and shook as you sobbed at the overstimulation. Petting your sides, Bucky cooed, “Easy girl, I ain’t done with you yet.” You whimpered, “S’ too much please no, I can’t!”
“Yeah you can sweet thing, gonna wear you out and fill you up like the needy slut ya’ are.”
You whined pitifully, wrapping yourself around his broad scarred back. You panted into his scruffy cheek, begging for more or less you weren’t entirely sure. But Bucky kept up. The man had flipped you around like a rag doll and pushed you through two peaks before he came with a shuddering moan and shout of your name. Bucky rolled off of you with a sigh, breathing like a racehorse. He gasped, “Whatever..the fuck..you put in m’drink..a miracle.”
You were too worn out and dazed to speak so you gave a sleepy “mhmmm.” The outlaw rolled to his side, slinging an arm around your soft waist. He rubbed at your slick skin, a strangely soft look on his face. You snuggled into his body and drifted off again.
“Awe what the fuck?! Get dressed the sheriff is coming you horn dog!,” A voice voice rattled in the shack. A darker man threw Bucky’s clothes at him, grumbling about Barnes and his wandering dick. You bolted upright and slung on your clothes. Bucky was pulling up his ranch pants, cussing at the other man ‘Sam’.
“Ease off Sam— it’ll be fine!”
Sam shouted back, “Not when she looks like she’s been mauled by a leech! Idiot!”
The two bickered until you cleared your throat, loudly. You said, “If you two will stop fighting, this corset needs lacing. Then I can put on my dress with a high neck, therefore you don’t see the markings.” Sam harrumphed, “Fine. Turn around I used to lace up Sarah all the time”. Bucky pushed Sam aside and did the deed instead.
He rumbled, “You okay?”
You nodded as you turned to look at Barnes. You whispered, “More than good. If you find your way back to Saint Denis, I live in the big peach house by the Cemetery.” Bucky replied, “Will do.” He squeezed the nape of your neck before buttoning up your dress. You attempted to fix your mussed hair in a cracked half mirror but gave up with a grunt. You pecked Bucky on the cheek, Sam groaned in frustration from the doorway.
And so your father picked you back up. It was a happy reunion, and things went back to normal in Saint Denis. Until you missed your monthly cycle. Your fathers face haunted your dreams when the doctor declared you pregnant. He hissed in the carriage, “You got knocked up by that dirty criminal didn’t ya? Rapist piece of shit. I’m contacting higher ups.” You protested before your father realized, and he turned ice cold. Things in Saint Denis weren’t normal after that. You weren’t kicked out fortunately, and the boy was to be raised as a sad circumstance of your kidnapping.
Bucky didn’t come by, but he left a letter once. Saying he was changing his ways and got some land out in Canada. Your mother burned it up in the fire. You wrote a letter back, telling him to come get you and little James when everything was settled.
“Mama? So you ran with a gang before I was born?”
You blinked and snapped out of reverie. With a sad smile you cooed, “Yes James. We were free and wild! But I had to leave to take care of you. Your father will be back one day. Then we’ll be a family.” The boy grinned and cheered, “Maybe he’ll teach me how to ride a horse!”
In the night, Bucky stared at the luxurious cabin. He proudly smiled at his hard work. Only had a trip to Saint Denis to make
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jessybarnes · 1 year
Text
It Takes Two
Title: It Takes Two
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 2,153
Tags: Smut, angst, fluff, pregnancy, pregnancy kink, plans of moving out, crying, taking pregnancy tests, kissing, fingering (female receiving), oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, talking about birth control pills, nipple play, explicit language, and I think that’s it.
Written For: @kinktober2022, @buckybarnesbingo, @anyfandomangstbingo, and @badthingshappenbingo
Square(s) Filled: Pregnancy for Kinktober // Can’t Stop The Tears for AFG Angst Bingo // “What have I done?” for Bad Things Happen Bingo // Moving for Bucky Barnes Bingo
Beta(s): None
"What have I done?..." 
You look down at the little pink plus sign darkening on the plastic test, panic coursing through your body. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not now! You’ve been careful. You’re on birth control pills, and you use condoms. Well, most of the time anyway. You think back to the night after he came back from the last long mission and sigh. Yes, you had taken your daily pill, but Bucky hadn't used a condom. 
You swallow thickly before tearing open another package with your teeth. Maybe it’s a false positive? Grabbing the small cup off of the sink, you add four drops to the test and sit down on the closed toilet seat. You bury your head in her hands, rubbing along your temples lightly. A few minutes later you peek at the second test and let another sigh escape your lips. 
"Okay, best two out of three."
About fifteen minutes later you have three pink plus signs staring menacingly back up at you. Realization sets in and tears threaten to fall as your hands shake. 
"Fuck!"
Anger rises in you and with a swipe of your hand, you send the tests flying against the opposite wall. They scatter along the tile floor, your tears flowing freely now and you slide down the wall bringing your knees to your chest. Sobs rack your body as another realization comes to mind and you know what you have to do. 
Bringing a child into James' life would most certainly take time away from his life of keeping the world safe. He’s been a hero for years, and you aren’t about to take that away from him. Sure you love him and want to be with him for the rest of your life, but now isn't the time for him to be a father. 
You stand up and wipe your face, taking a few deep, shaky breaths. No matter how much you love him you know you can't stay. Telling him is off the table because you know he’d want to be by your side for every waking moment of your pregnancy. You know he deserves to know, but he also deserves to be a hero. It’s your love for his happiness that helps you make your final decision. 
Picking the lesser of the two evils, you start gathering your things off the back of the sink. You share a tiny apartment nothing too elaborate, but it’s still in a decent neighborhood. It shelters you and well, it’s your home. Well, it was. 
Your lower lip quiveres as you quickly throw what little clothes and possessions you have into your black suitcase. Once everything is packed you zip it up and stand so you can look around the half-empty room. It looks so bare and lifeless, like a bachelor pad. You don't want to leave, but what choice did you have? Bucky deserves a woman who will be more careful about things like this. Your chest aches at the thought of him being in someone else's arms. The way he touches, kisses, makes love, and all the other little things he does feels reserved only for you. 
You allow yourself to take one last look at the place you've called home for the past four years before walking towards the front door. Your legs feel numb and heavy as you grab your purse digging for your keys. Shaky hands pull them out and you fumble with the keyring trying your best to remove your key to the apartment. You’re just about to lay it on the table when the lock clicks on the door. 
No... no please not now. He can't be home this early...
You can't face him. Can't bear the heartbreak you know you’ll see on his face, but there’s no where for you to go. There’s only one door in and out. Bracing yourelf for the inevitable, you lean your suitcase against the couch and wrap your arms around yourself.  
James doesn't notice you at first. He hangs his keys on the hook by the door and drapes his leather jacket over one of the chairs in the dining area. He toes out of his boots and you admire the happiness in his bright blue eyes for what may be the last time. You drink him in, mentally taking a picture to keep in your memory forever.
"Hey, doll, I'm home! What sounds good for di-"
Bucky stops at the threshold of the living room, his eyes darting between you and the packed suitcase. Anger, confusion, and panic all flash over his face at once as he looks at you for an explanation. 
"Y/N? What's going on? Where are you going?"
He watches you take a shaky breath and sigh. You never look at him and that upsets him the most. That you can't even look him in the eyes. He runs the past few weeks in his mind quickly trying to figure out if he’s done something wrong, but he can't come up with anything. 
"James... I-I..."
He watches a lone tear slide down your cheek.
"I can't stay..."
Bucky furrows his brows and walks toward you. Tucking two fingers under your chin, he raises your head so your looking at him instead of the carpet. His eyes search yours for something, anything to help him understand what’s going on. 
"What do you mean you can't stay? Y/N what's wrong? You can't just leave without talking to me! After everything we've been through..."
You bite your lip and ball your fists trying not to cry. You hate seeing Bucky like this. Especially since this is all your fault. You know he won't let you leave without hearing your reason, and you can't see a way out of it now. Closing your eyes, you swallow the lump in your throat and take a deep breath. 
"It's... it's all my fault, Bucky. I've ruined everything..."
This time when he looks at you all you see is confusion. He smooths his thumbs under your eyes to wipe the loose tears away and shakes his head desperately. 
"Baby, talk to me. What happened? What do you mean you've ruined everything?"
Now you’re starting to get annoyed. It isn't his fault, you know that, but it’s hard to find the words. Anger gets the best of you again as you look up at him. 
"I can't do this anymore! I can't stay knowing that I've ruined every chance you have of keeping the world safe, James! I don't want Steve, Natasha, Fury, or any of the others to see me as the reason for keeping you from missions because I'm pregnant!"
A look of shock spreads over Bucky’s face as he takes a step back. His eyes slowly travel down your small frame and settle on your still flat belly. He hasn't said anything, and it makes your heart break that much more. Hot tears are flowing freely down your cheeks now, making your vision blurry, and you blindly reach for your suitcase again. 
"...That's why I can't stay. I-I can't be the reason for you giving up what you love doing most."
The shock wears off his face when he sees your hand wrap around the handle and he puts his hands firmly on your damp cheeks. 
"Y/N you're what I love most!"
He pulls you flush against him and his eyes begin to shine with unshed tears.
"You and this baby, our baby, will know nothing but love do you hear me? Yes, keeping the people in this world safe is something that I love to do, but don't you think for one second that I won't give it all up for you! Don't ever, EVER, let the thought cross your mind that you carrying our child would be the reason for me retiring from missions."
He places a chaste kiss on your forehead.
"Believe me when I say that I can do both. I can be a dad and an Avenger. Hell, if I can survive a fall from a train and all the brainwashing and torture that Hydra did, then bringing a child into this world shouldn't be a threat at all. Not to mention it takes two to tango, doll."
You drop your suitcase and fling your arms around his neck kissing him hard. Bucky lets out a grunt regaining his balance before returning your kiss with fervor. He runs his hands down your sides making you shiver. You can't get enough of his touch, and right now you need it more than ever. 
"Bucky... please..."
His eyes darken as he lifts you up, your thighs wrapping around his waist. You can feel his clothed cock pressing against your pussy, and it only makes you want him that much more. God, you’re so in love with this man. He saw you at your absolute worst tonight, and he never once showed you anything but love.  
James gently lays you down on the comforter and slowly starts kissing you again. Most of the time you’re both in a hurry to devour each other, but this is a different circumstance. Right now all James wants is to worship every inch of your body. He peppers sweet, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline. You moan softly when he sucks above your pulse point, and arch up so your chest touches his. 
"You’re so beautiful Y/N, and now that I know you’re carrying our baby,” his metal hand moves to rest on top of your stomach, “I can’t wait to see you with a little bump. Gonna look so sexy carrying my baby, sweetheart. It’s gonna be difficult to control myself around you. M'gonna be so hard all the time baby…fuck..."
You tangle your fingers in his brown hair, relishing in the way his mouth feels on your skin. His hands snake under the hem of your shirt and onto your tummy. He kisses just above your belly button and looks up at your through his eyelashes. “You’re gonna make an amazing mother, pretty girl.”
Bucky wraps one arm around your back and sits you up so he can easily rid you of your shirt and bra. His tongue swirls around one of your nipples drawing a moan from your throat. He groans, his cock twitching in his jeans. “These perfect tits gettin’ all full with food for our baby, god, doll you’re gonna be so fucking gorgeous.” 
"Oh, James!... Baby, please... need you!"
He smirks and lays you back down on the soft bedspread, “patience, baby. I’m just gettin’ started. 
He sits up on his knees and hooks his fingers in the hem of your sweatpants removing them and your panties in one swift motion. He marvels at you bare beneath him and it’s the prettiest sight he’s ever seen. Even more so now that your carrying his child. Bucky continues to kiss you lovingly until he’s positioned between your legs. He presses kisses into your inner thighs and pushes one of his metal fingers into your tight, wet heat. 
"Mmmm, I love how needy you get for me, Y/N. Always so responsive for me, sweetheart."
Bucky begins to devour you, his skilled tongue slipping inside your fluttering hole as he rubs your clit slowly with his thumb. Your desperate cries fill the room and it’s music to his ears. He brings you closer and closer to the edge, but he knows it isn’t enough. You always need that last little push to let go. 
"J-James, please!! I-I wanna cum... fuck, baby please!"
He comes up to kiss your lips, his cool, metal fingers sliding inside your pussy with ease. The contrast of temperatures make your eyes roll back and your legs shake. He pumps them faster, curling them to rub that spot that drives you absolutely crazy. 
"C'mon, be a good girl and cum all over my fingers, princess"
He brings his mouth down to yours, kissing you with unbridled passion. You’re panting against his lips, whimpering into his mouth as your nails rake down his back. Bucky bites your lip and suddenly you’re writhing in his arms and he growls against your lips. He fucking loves seeing you come undone like this.
"That's my good girl. God, you’re so fucking gorgeous, Y/N."
James stands up and quickly strips out of his clothes before climbing back onto the bed. He cups your cheek and kisses you tenderly. 
"Bucky, please…make love to me…"
He chuckles and looks deeply into your eyes. “Don’t worry, doll. I’m no where near done with you. Gonna make you cum over and over for me until your begging for me to stop.” He bites his lip and grinds his hard cock against your pussy. 
“You better get used to this, pretty girl, because these next nine months I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands to myself.”
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insomniumstella · 1 year
Text
spite her, spite me (7) | bucky x avenger!reader
summary: Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.
warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, explicit language, alcohol consumption, sarcastic!bucky, smut MDI
word count: 8,485
author's note: i cannot believe we reached the end — thank you for all of the comments and the love you've showed this series, it truly means the world! also, i don't know how the nsfw section stretched to be over 2k words and now i'm rethinking every smutty fic i've ever written
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“The dress is a bit much,” the sergeant’s eyes raked over her gown. 
The intricately beaded dress was black, and sensual, and outrageous, with a deep slit, which exposed most of y/n’s upper thigh. She might’ve seemed like an angel in devil’s clothing to those of unsuspecting eyes, but James understood better. The woman was a fallen saint, and as he committed the image to memory, he had decided that she was placed on this earth solely to tempt him in every way she could. Their story was never destined to be comforting, and easy, no, the story of James and y/n would always be difficult, complex, and shamefully sinful. 
“It seems Maui had been harsh on you, James,” she spoke, “otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” 
The cool touch of his metal arm brushed against y/n’s skin when he took a step forward, coming to stand beside her. It was bothersome, the closeness of his body as they observed the gala’s guests unsuspectingly dancing, drinking, or conversing about matters they had deemed important.
There was only a single matter on her mind y/n considered meaningful, and she had not seen him for the entirety of the night. Steve had been a nimble shadow, shaking hands with the leaders and first ladies of the world. 
“Perhaps, I was wrong,” the word felt foreign on his tongue, “and HYDRA ceased to exist.”
She angled her face to read his expression, but it was aggravatingly blank, “how’d you figure that out, Sherlock?” 
James noticed the sarcasm in her tone and nearly chose to ignore it, “reviewed some files, checked a couple databases,” possibly hacked into Sam’s iCloud to read the texts between you two. "Have any more theories you’d like to share?” 
She chuckled, then chuckled again from the bewilderment before breaking into a boisterous laugh; it couldn’t have been more disingenuous if she tried. “Why should I if the Winter Soldier will only trample on my ideas?” 
Though the dimly lit ballroom overflowed with chatter and soft sounds of jazz, a tense stillness settled between them. The looming threat of Steve’s assassination was not a time for games and stubbornness, and James was frustrated at the spy’s thorny attitude. 
“The Winter Soldier was blinded by bloodlust, but he’s ready to hear out his partner,” Bucky replied with a deep sigh, hoping she’d crack.
“Oh, we’re partners now?” The clench of his jaw didn’t go unnoticed, and she begrudgingly dropped the act. “Back when we attended Elijah’s yacht party, Mark was wary of you hence the fish tend to be vigilant around James comment. I might forget a name, but I always remember a face.” This time, she angled her entire body to face him. “Mark attended a gala in Germany a couple years prior, Steve had me monitoring the security cameras for hours then, and nothing was particularly interesting except for Mark and Wilfred Nagel’s unlikely friendship.” 
“Shit,” his flesh arm clasped around her forearm, “ Nagel’s the doctor CIA had recruited before he seemingly disappeared into thin air.” 
“Bingo,” she replied with a popping sound. “The accusations against Elijah, Mark’s presence on the boat, and the conversation between him and Wilfred months before Wilfred’s disappearance had me conceptualizing a theory of Mark and Elijah working alongside Nagel to produce super-soldiers.” A server boy approached the couple, and she promptly replaced her empty champagne flute with a fresh glass. “I’d assume Captain America would ruin those plans." 
“The theory’s still blurry,” James released the grip on her arm, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles of his black suit. “If they’re plotting to execute Steve, why wouldn’t they assassinate me as well?”
She drank him in — the sergeant’s black suit was made of satin, alike the dress shirt, matching her onyx gown. Perhaps he had willingly chosen to abstain from a tie, or perhaps, he had been too headstrong to admit she had been correct about HYDRA, subjecting James to a lack of time for elaborate preparations. She decided it must’ve been the latter, for Bucky had worn the outfit to a party Natasha had organized after the court had pardoned his crimes. 
“They could,” she agreed, “but they wouldn’t because you’ve been forgiven and have since retired, remember? The Winter Soldier enjoys a peaceful life away from criminals, Avengers, and fights.” 
“The sucker has a wife too,” James gawked into y/n’s eyes, and she tittered at his attempt at a joke. “She looks good tonight.” 
The glimmer in his expression she couldn’t understand.
She took a swig of champagne, peering at James over the flute for a single awkward moment too long, “was that a compliment?” 
“It should’ve been,” he pursed his lips together. 
James was allowed to feel frustrated, angry, and disappointed about y/n’s actions, he had decided after she had packed up and hastily abandoned the honeymoon. The woman had betrayed him by hiding significant information and biting her tongue on theories of HYDRA and its remains. Worse, she had fled Maui without as much as a goodbye, leaving James to sleep in the bed, angrily alone. Though his appetite had been ruined, he had chosen to order room service and watch terrible TV shows she had recommended to Wanda in the prior months. The sheets had been tainted with the scent of y/n’s perfume and lotion, a delicious blend of strawberry and vanilla. The Lovers’ Suite had been scattered with traces of her, and when he had ditched the room at last, deep into the night, even the beach had seemed to remind James of the bizarre yet pleasant memories they had shared. He wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but he had begun missing y/n’s presence, prickly remarks, and the pointless arguments over the smallest of things. 
“Steve’s backstage," Sam’s voice was a muffled sound through the earpiece. 
She took a step forward, using Bucky’s body to shield herself from possibly prying eyes. “What about Mark Basso?” 
James paled at the closeness of their bodies, but remained professional, examining the ballroom of feasible threats. 
“I can’t find him, the dude’s been a ghost for the entire night, but,” there was a pause in his speech, “Elijah Williamson is backstage,” she could hear Sam drum his fingers on a metal surface, “they’ve been conversing for a good while.” A second passed before his words reached y/n’s ears once more. “Are you certain Mark’s appearance at the party is enough to incarcerate him?”
The woman recognized she should inform Sam of the situation without excluding certain details, and yet she couldn’t. If Sam understood the gravity of Elijah’s gala plans, he’d abandon monitoring the security cameras and would certainly place himself in danger to save the Captain. She needed the footage of the events that were to occur backstage, for she had already deceived James, allowing the soldier to believe HYDRA continued to exist. 
The eight months they had spent together, unraveling Elijah’s life, had been honest, on y/n’s part, but the last five days had not. James had pursued false leads and theories, and she had let him. Sam might punish her with a harsh lecture, move to live on Natasha’s floor or stop coming to Friday’s Tequila Nights at Barry’s if he discovered y/n’s incomplete truths, but it’d be worth it, for he’d be in the security room in case Mark had planned to delete the footage. James deserved peace, and she craved to ease his mind two criminals at a time. A former HYDRA officer and a corrupt politician behind bars was a good start to rid of the nasty organization and its remains. 
“The man’s a HYDRA operative,” she reminded, clutching James’ hand to lead him through the crowd of guests, “who just happens to be identified as deceased,” y/n maneuvered around people, dodging staff members and unsuspecting bystanders, “imagine the headlines and the public’s fear when it’ll get revealed the US government missed a dead man walking after the program to incarcerate security threats was implemented.” A corrupt program for a corrupt country. “President Ross would imprison Mark just to save face.”
The pair soon found themselves backstage. The stage was narrow much like the hallways, and though the space had plenty of overhead LED lights, it was painted a pitch-black color, and the confusing maze of corridors, entrances, and clothing racks seemed rather murky. She hauled James into the women’s bathroom and hurriedly locked the door. The soldier had seen women dragging men into bathrooms at clubs and parties. He was old, but he wasn’t dead — James understood what a couple would do in a bathroom together hence his confusion and reddened cheeks. 
She raked her eyes over his face, “we’re not having sex, Barnes.” 
“Is it because Steve needs saving or,” the smallest of smirks danced on his lips as James observed y/n step on the toilet to open a vent, “is it because you want our first time to be special?” Amusement colored his tone. 
She threw a miffed glare toward him before continuing to rummage in the outlet, “do you actually believe I burn with lust for you?” 
“Yes,” Bucky caught a pale yellow gym bag after she tossed it at him, “surely did during the honeymoon.” 
“We’ll always have Maui,” she smiled with faux sweetness, stepping off the toilet and on the sparkling white tiles. 
The smirk dropped from his lips at the comment because he had been open, honest then, and she just teased him about it. If time allowed for it, she might’ve apologized, guilt beginning to claw at her heart, but she ignored the strange emotion. 
“Sam,” she pressed a finger on the earpiece before squatting down to search in the sack, “James is with me,” y/n found an additional earpiece, standing up and taking a step forward to gently attach the gadget onto the soldier, “do you have eyes on Steve?” 
“Yes,” the Falcon murmured, audibly upset by Bucky’s presence. “James, hi,” he spoke through the intercom, “y/n, didn’t you say you'd leave the tin-man in Hawaii?”
“Obviously, I failed,” she replied, earning a soft smack from James on the shoulder, “when does the charity auction start?” 
“It should begin in fifteen minutes,” Sam spoke, inspecting the view on the monitors, “an incredible date with Amelie Barnes, a gorgeous New York City socialite, is fifth on the list to be auctioned, seven offers before the old-fashioned date with the handsome Captain America.”
She glanced up at James, studying his bewildered expression. “There might be a few things you’ve missed,” y/n grinned in faux innocence before promptly clarifying, "we needed access to the backstage areas. Do you have a gun?” 
“No,” James begrudgingly admitted, ashamed to have missed a crucial detail in his attire. 
The pair stood in front of each other without a sliver of space in between. She didn’t give herself a minute to think the action through, resting her hands on his chest as she hastily lowered into a squatting position to reach the bag. James sucked in a breath as y/n’s hands slid across the length of his body. She rested a single palm on his upper thigh for balance while she retrieved a set of pistols, but just before his mind had enough time to register the sudden stimulation, she arose, clutching his flesh bicep to steady herself. 
“Tuck it into the waistba—“
“Alright,” James interrupted her, “I’ve done this before.” 
She let go of his shoulder, taking a step backward. “There’s no need to be rude,” y/n shrugged. 
“I���m not being rude,” he rebuffed the comment, “just worried about where you’re planning to hide the gun.” 
A slight smile waltzed on her lips as she pushed the bottom of her gown aside, faintly exposing lacy onyx panties and a holster. James choked, once, at the obscenity of her response. 
“I’ve done this before,” she teased him, “sergeant.”
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The charity auction had been a distant thought until she was standing on the stage with dozens of eyes upon her. She could hear the voice of the auction's host, describing the date she’d be forced to attend and the chatter of middle-aged men, hoping to secure the evening with Amelie Barnes, but y/n could only focus on searching for Mark in the crowd.
Nancy wouldn’t have lied to someone about Elijah and Mark’s wicked plans because the lawyer had zero motives to deceive a person she trusted. At least the woman hoped Nancy trusted whoever it had been on the other side of the phone because her whole plan revolved around Mark’s appearance at the gala. She’d never wish for Steve’s untimely death, but she did wish for the HYDRA operative and the politician to be caught on camera as they attempted to eliminate him.
“Let’s start the bidding at a thousand dollars,” the host announced, and she swallowed the lump of nerves in her throat.
A man on the left side of the ballroom raised his bid paddle. He seemed utterly too old to take y/n out on a date, and she shivered at the possibility.
The host beside y/n smiled, peeking at her. “We have a thousand, can we get more?”
“Two thousand!”
“Three thousand!”
“Five thousand dollars!”
She could barely register the number of voices, each interrupting the next to outbid the other.
A woman, close enough to the stage that she could see her face, raised the paddle. “Ten thousand dollars!”
“Ten thousand dollars for the woman in a green gown,” the presenter spoke cheerfully. “Amelie loves art galleries and tennis at The River Club of New York!” He encouraged the guests to aim higher. “The woman’s a real good company."
What the fuck did Sam tell them?
If she had ever thought that time spent in James Buchanan Barnes’ proximity must have been the worst thing the world could possibly offer, which she often would, she had been wrong. She was a spy, she had undoubtedly used her appearance to obtain certain information or opportunities on missions before, but the auction caused goosebumps to waltz on her skin — to be suppressed into an object, the perfect accessory for a date night, was one of the worst emotions she had ever experienced. 
James stood in the back, observing her panic-riddled expression. She had forgotten Tony’s credit card in Maui on accident, and though Tony would skin him alive if he spent as much as a dime on it, Tony and James had never been close buddies, so what further damage could his impending action legitimately cause if the damage of the two’s past had already been irreversible.
“Fifteen thousand dollars,” James raised the bidding paddle, grinning at y/n.
She stood on the stage perplexed at the sound of Bucky’s voice, frantically searching for his face in the sea of people.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we just got our highest bid of the night! Fifteen thousand dollars for the man in the back going in one, two, th-“
“Thirty grand for the man in blue.” A deep voice reverberated through the room.
She abandoned her search for James, locking her gaze on Mark. The spy had inspected the crowd once, then had inspected it for a second time, and the agent had not been comfortably sitting at a nearby table, peering at her through the top of his champagne flute. Mark must have sneaked in, which signified that either Steve was already dead or Elijah was waiting for Mark backstage, conversing with Captain America before commencing the plan of a brutal murder.
“Forty,” James challenged, studying in which direction y/n’s disgusted glance pointed.
“Fifty thousand,” Mark announced before the host had a chance to say anything, continuing to scrutinize her. The agent’s smile was cocky, overconfident, almost as if she was the victim and he was the hunter; as if he had discovered y/n’s deepest and darkest of secrets.
“Fifty thousand going in one, two—“
“A hundred thousand dollars,” James yelled, interrupting the ghost, and maneuvered to stand by the stage.
Silence settled upon the room at the sheer absurdity of his proposed bid. The truth was, the sergeant had spoken before he could think because the world, at that moment, had not existed outside the gala. She was standing on the platform, the glitter in her special lotion, as she’d describe it, glimmering underneath the fiery spotlight. She was clad in an opulent gown, dripping in pearlescent onyx beads and intricate patterns. She was reduced to nothing but an object in the auction, a good company auction's participants could purchase. 
She, the woman who’d never become a friend, for he’d always crave to be her lover. 
The spy averted her piercing gaze away from Mark and glanced at James. Concern was visibly displayed in his eyes, yet his grin, sweet and playful to steady her nerves, remained. A corner of her mouth quirked up, and she mouthed a silent thank you. James was attempting to outbid every person in the room to save y/n from a terrible date, and he was willing to do it in understanding that Tony would lecture, if not evict, him. 
The moment shattered as she returned her eyes to Mark, and her expression turned deadly. The spy might have played the role of an obedient, pleasant wife and woman on Elijah’s boat, but it was apparent he had acquired some kind of insight into who she verily was. It was useless to pretend she desired to be friends with Mark, a positively unsuspicious Elijah’s friend, who just happened to surprisingly specialize in foreign weaponry. 
“This is shockingly incredible,” the host trumpeted in amazement, pausing for a second, “a hundred thousand dollars for the man in the satin suit going in one, two, three.” Mark basked in the daggers she sent toward him, sipping on his second glass of champagne as James glided onto the stage, clasping y/n’s fingers in his gloved hand, and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles. “The date with Amelie Barnes has just been sold to the guy in a lovely suit,” James and y/n exchanged amused looks at the host’s comment, “but don’t abandon your seats just yet ladies and gentlemen, because up next we have a cooking lesson at Daniel with the beautiful chef Olivia Stroud.”
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“Thank you,” she softly acknowledged his sacrifice at the auction, "for what you did back there."
The pair hid behind heavy velvet curtains, a hairsbreadth away from each other, occasionally peaking through the crack to inspect the limited backstage area for Mark or Elijah. It slightly resembled a room suited for rehearsals, mimicking the layout of the ballroom and the stage on a lesser scale. The space was cluttered and messy, with tangles of cords littering the floor and racks of clothing lining the walls.
A date with Steve was the last to be auctioned before the break, establishing the perfect opportunity to catch him off-guard and without innocent eyes around to witness the gory sight of Captain America’s murder.
James smiled, shyly almost. “I couldn’t allow myself to watch and do nothing while creepy old men fought over a chance to spend time with Amelie,” he teased, adjusting a fallen strap of y/n’s gown, “my hatred for you doesn’t stretch that deep.”
Heat crawled up her neck and onto her cheeks. “Bucky, you are an old man,” the woman teased, “perhaps not creepy, but weird? Absolutely.” 
“I’m not weird,” he argued, suppressing a smile, “you eat ice cream with pickles for toppings.” 
False shock stained the edges of y/n’s expression, “it was one time, and I only tried it because Pepper affirmed it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten.”
“Pepper was pregnant,” he reminded playfully, earning a light smack on the shoulder.
The two Avengers swiftly switched into vigilant agents at the sudden squeak of the door. It was Mark, who entered the room first, scanning over the area for unwanted people. Steve appeared in the room seconds later, an arm resting on Elijah’s shoulders as he vehemently laughed at something the politician had mentioned.
It would’ve taken a fool to miss the obvious problem at hand. 
Steve was seldom intoxicated. She’d know, for she had spent too many gatherings attempting to outdrink the man without real success. Thor’s Asgardian mead was deadly to mortals but pleasantly kind to gods and super-soldiers alike. Earthly alcohol, contrariwise, was harsh on him; the taste delectable, the effects on Steve’s modified human body meager. 
It abruptly struck y/n — guns signified blood, plenty of it, and an operative smart enough to fabricate files of his supposed status as deceased wouldn’t be reckless and leave a plash of evidence in the backstage area of a charity gala’s ballroom. 
“Good news,” Sam’s voice echoed in the pair’s ears, “I have eyes on Steve,” he paused briefly, “bad news, Mark Basso and Elijah Williamson are plaguing the Captain.”
James opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him by placing a tender finger on his lips. “Sam, how closely were you monitoring the security cameras?”
It was a simple question she hoped the Falcon wouldn’t take offense to. 
He did. 
“I was observing the monitors like a hawk, y/n.” 
She refrained against an unnecessary comment and focused on the task, “and the video has audio?” 
“Yes.”
She took a step forward, closing the barely existent gap between them, “Elijah and Mark must’ve spiked his drink,” y/n hushedly whispered, circling a hand around James’ waist to touch the handgun she had provided. 
The pistol was securely tucked into the waistband of his trousers, and the sergeant cocked his head to the side. I’ve been on missions before, the glimmer in his eyes stated, and she could sense the early stages of his frustration, I didn’t accidentally drop it or nothin’. 
“At any point, did you notice Steve drinking a whiskey he had not ordered himself?” 
“Alright,” Sam clicked his tongue, “so I might not have an answer to that particular question, but I can say that Steve went into the bathroom twenty minutes ago, and his face seemed quite pale.” 
James placed a finger on the gadget, “did anyone accompany him?” 
“Yes, a line of beautiful ladies,” the Falcon responded, and James could nearly visualize Sam rolling his eyes in annoyance. 
The two men bickered some more, but she had tuned out the conversation, studying the scene onward. Everyone has a tell, y/n recalled. Though Steve’s words regarded lies and treacheries, the advice had not yet lost its meaning. It had been New Year’s Eve when she had gotten a nasty infection and had forgone Thor’s mead due to antibiotics. The compound’s residents had partaken in a friendly drinking competition then, and Steve had sworn the alcohol couldn’t exhilarate him, except his eyes had been droopy, and he had clutched James’ biceps for balance. 
Steve leaned on Mark, his laugh far less joyous than it had been before, so perhaps Nancy had been wrong, and they had not planned to eliminate him at the gala, but rather drug the Captain, sneakily transporting his unconscious body to a place, devoid of prying glances and curious endeavors. She wondered whether Elijah would linger in the room until the poison took its course. It’d be easier to carry dead weight, for Steve might fight against the operation.
The plan was meticulously calculated except for a single nuance. Why would the two men bring Steve into the backstage area in the first place if they could’ve used the narrow hallways and hidden exits to sneak out?
“We should slaughter Wilfred.” Mark spoke as if answering y/n’s concerns. “I specifically told Nagel he cannot be late.”
“It’s a slight blunder,” Elijah replied, oblivious to the surroundings, and the woman behind the velvet material, around him. Steve was barely awake. “We have Rogers and a bit of time before he’s supposed to appear on stage.” 
It was impossible to ignore James’ piercing eyes, and she hastily peeped at him. “Do we wait?” 
And she craved to have the correct response to his question, but, despite her usual confidence during missions, she didn’t have an answer. James had allowed her to lead, and she felt as if she was disappointing him, lingering behind a curtain as the Captain, a friend, clutched the very enemies they wished to incarcerate. The only thing y/n understood in great certainty was that Steve’s body couldn’t leave the premises of the establishment. 
“Did you see Mark or Elijah on the phone at any point in the night?” 
“Mark was a ghost,” Sam’s voice crawled through her earpiece, “but I distinctly remember Elijah in a heated conversation. The man arrived at the gala with his wife, presumably, and scuttled away into a lonely corner soon after, which I found interesting.” 
The former HYDRA operative’s phone dinged, and she lowered her hands to reach for the gun strapped to her thigh. Steve’s dormant body nearly hit the ground as he lost consciousness, and Elijah slithered his hands under Steve’s armpits to support the Captain’s weight. The woman’s heart clenched at the sight, of her confidante resting against Elijah’s chest like a heavy sack of potatoes, entirely unresponsive to the situation.
“Let’s move,” Mark clasped his ankles, and the unlikely allies hoisted Steve’s figure, “Wilfred messaged he’s awaiting outside.”
She could only comprehend Elijah's high-pitched shriek that rang in her ears, silencing the laughs, chatter, and footsteps sneaking into the space from the ballroom. James was the first to abandon the secure hiding spot behind the curtain, pointing his gun at the man, a stern expression on his face. A couple seconds passed before she trailed after him, shoving a pistol into Mark’s back as a threat. Steve’s body caused a harsh crash sound when it hit the ground, but she could only concentrate on Sam and the amount of time it’d take him to reach the ballroom backstage from the van parked outside.
“On your knees,” y/n instructed, firmly thrusting the gun against his skin.
The operative lazily raised his arms, making no effort to do as she had requested. “Amelie Barnes,” he chuckled, “what a stupid alias,” the situation didn’t afford contemplations on how he could’ve realized she was more than a homemaker, “though I must admit, I almost fell for the lovebirds' act by the way you two basked in each other on the boat.” Mark’s tone was tainted with smugness. 
Elijah landed a painful punch on James’ jawline, and he staggered back at the surprise of the action before he straightened up and kneed him in the stomach. 
She drew in a breath, “you’re wrong.”
The operative ignored the politician and the fight he seemed to be losing, “am I?”
She jabbed the pistol into his muscled back once more, hands quivering at the unspoken confession; it swallowed the room, knocking the air out of her lungs. “Get down on your knees,” she spat the warning.  
“A dozen names,” he snickered, “and not a single true. Mindy Phillips, Tara Marvin, Katherine Bailey just to identify a few.” 
“This is the last time I’ll repeat myself, get down on your fucking knees.”
“C’mon, y/n,” he spoke, lowering his arms a bit, “we can come to an agreement that’d satisfy both of us.”
She froze at the mention. The curiosity almost lured her into the biggest mistake she could make — playing along. “Elijah and HYDRA’s golden agent behind bars is the only agreement I’d be delighted about.” 
Mark suddenly turned around, grasping one of y/n’s wrists, and she clobbered him across the head with the hand that was clutching the gun. He wobbled, momentarily, before he tackled her to the ground, thighs resting on either side of her own, and gripped y/n’s wrist once more. The gun landed by her, and she writhed in his hold to reach it, but it was useless. Mark harshly pinned her arms above her hand, leaning in so close she could feel his disgustingly hot breath upon the skin of her neck.
He snickered, grazing the top of her ear with his lips, “we could’ve worked together,” Mark lightly nipped at the sensitive spot, “could’ve been a real good team.”
She found his eyes, amused and eerily hungry, and spat in his face, “fuck you.”
Mark laughed, but before he could sputter another comment, James was pouncing on the agent, resting his entire weight on him just as Mark had done to y/n, mercilessly pummeling the flesh of his upper body.
She averted her gaze from the bloody sight, searching for Elijah. The politician was sprawled out on the cement floor, by Steve’s feet, unconscious. A huge gash tainted his bottom lip, and purple had begun tinting his cheekbones. She glimpsed at James and the small cuts that adorned his handsome face; Elijah must’ve stricken a few great hits before the sergeant had stunned him cold.
Sam barged through the door. Besides the Falcon, she was the only person in the room without visible injuries, though her joints ached from the pressure Mark had used to clutch them.
“I called reinforcement,” he spoke, kicking her gun to a corner Mark couldn’t reach.
“Care to help?” Bucky’s teasing comment amidst a fight was almost comforting.
Sam rolled his eyes, joining James in the scuffle with the agent. She focused on Steve, crawling to his dormant body. Though it was dreadfully faint, his heartbeat remained. It was difficult to raise the top half of his weight, yet y/n succeeded, supporting his neck and shoulders as she inspected the back of his head for damage. She gasped silently, noticing that the blonde of his hair had been stained red. The split in his skin wasn’t deep enough to be profoundly alarming, but it'd require stitches. Speedily, she checked the time on his watch, creating a mental note, and lowered his figure to rummage in his pockets for a cell phone. The Captain’s head she placed upon her folded legs.
The woman’s fingers trembled as she typed in the emergency number. In the years they had worked together, never had Steve fallen unconscious, nor had he obtained a gaping gash in the back of his scalp. Elijah and Mark must've given him an alarmingly high dose of tranquilizer to knock the super-soldier out entirely, and she was scared.
The two Avengers had handcuffed Mark when the call between y/n and the local emergency service had ended. The operator’s voice has been soothing and calm, and she had turned the iPhone off feeling far more composed than she had been when she made it.
“An ambulance should be here in a few minutes.”
“That was quite dramatic,” Mark noted, a weak chuckle slipping past his lips, “Steve ingested sedatives, not poison.”
James placed a gun to his temple, and Sam planted a hand on the sergeant’s shoulder, “don’t engage him,” the Falcon advised, turning to y/n, “did you know?” 
She recognized Sam’s true question was did you know they planned to kill Steve?
“Yes,” she averted her gaze to observe Steve, “I’m sorry.” The spy was genuinely apologetic for hiding certain information. 
Sam drew in a deep breath, pursing his lips together, “why wouldn’t you tell me?” 
“I needed you to monitor the security cameras,” she answered truthfully, “I needed someone to transfer the footage into our database,” the explanation was honest once more, “I was afraid Mark or Elijah would attempt to tamper with it.”
“She was right, we had a whole plan 'n' everything,” Mark chimed in, and James pushed him down to his knees.
He sighed in frustration, the pistol lingering in its position against Mark’s skin, “stay fucking quiet, asshole.”
The Falcon ignored the commotion in the background, his expression strained as he continued to stare at her, “you should’ve told us.”
The statement disintegrated into thin air, the weight of it still heavy on her shoulders. She stayed silent, brushing away the sweaty pieces of hair that had stuck to Steve’s forehead. His face was eerily peaceful as he rested, unconscious, on the cement floor, head propped on y/n’s thighs. The gown Sam had chosen for the evening was sprinkled with blood in various spots, albeit the dark color disguised it. It was gorgeous and elegant, she’d admit, but it was destined to burn after the events that had unfolded during the gala.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, her voice drained of emotion.
“The two of you should return to the hotel,” Sam suggested when a group of FBI officers spilled into the room, “shower, eat, rest. I have zero doubts it’s been an exhausting week,” he half-heartedly joked, referring to the faux honeymoon, “I’ll stay with Steve.” 
“Sam,” she spoke, “we want t—“
“Go,” the Falcon interrupted her, “please,” one of the officers firmly hoisted Mark, and James swiftly reached y/n’s kneeling figure, “I got this.” The tone of his voice had whispers of irritation at its edges. 
“Alright,” she agreed, helping a paramedic transfer Steve’s body onto a stretcher, “I trust you.” 
Sam glanced at James, shoving his hands into his pockets, and returned his eyes to y/n. “Good.” The look they exchanged was strangely comforting, the kind of look that conveyed Sam wasn’t angry, per se, but rather vanquished, and disappointment she could deal with. 
She offered him a weak smile, “I should shower.”
The Falcon chuckled, mouthing a silent go, and turned his focus to James, both of you. 
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James stood in the hotel room’s doorway.
She was fidgeting with lavish jewels, her patience stretching thin as the necklace’s clasp remained closed despite y/n’s nimble fingers attempting to work it open. She glanced at him, once, before regaining focus. “Why are you here?”
The sergeant shrugged, though she couldn’t see it. “I forgot to book a hotel room.”
She ceased her movements, observing his awkwardness-laden body language. James’ long-forgotten suit jacket dangled over his bent arm, the other hand shoved into the pocket of his satin trousers.
“May I suggest driving back to the compound?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up into a small grin at y/n’s thorny response, “we’re in the middle of Manhattan, and the compound is a three-hour drive away.” James closed the heavy wooden door, locking it behind him. “Can I stay with you?”
“It seems you’ve answered the question before I had the chance,” she referenced the action, staring at him in forged disbelief.
The atmosphere stilled in a pregnant pause. It wouldn’t be harmless for the couple to sleep in the same bed. They had done it in Maui, and neither her skin had broken out in a rash nor had she perished. On the contrary, it was peaceful to relish in the warmth of his skin.
James dumped the jacket on an empty chair, slowly coming to stand in front of the woman. She could almost hear the thumping of his heart, his body a hairbreadth away. Sirens echoed outside the sealed window, saturating the silence in crimson sounds. New York City contrasted with the lush green of upstate New York. The living quarters at the compound were usually deprived of clamor, protected against harsh winds and white noise by thick cement walls. 
“Let me help you,” James cooed, sliding his hands across the skin of her arms upward. The soft pads of his fingers caressed her collarbone before he grasped the necklace’s clasp and easily worked it open. “We could be great together,” he spoke, turning to gently place the diamond choker on a glass desk, “great partners,” her fingers ghosted over the spots James had touched, “great lovers,” he toyed with the idea. 
The sergeant returned to his previous place and, “great lovers,” she teased, “you think we could fit together?” 
“Mmmh,” he concurred, “but we always extinguish the flame before it truly burns.”
She brushed her hands across the smooth fabric of his dress shirt, savoring the firmness of his muscled chest beneath the textile. We always extinguish the flame before it truly burns. Perhaps James was correct — she had been opposing a traitorous fire within the deepest pits of her heart, and body, long before Wanda had a terrible idea to send the two on a faux honeymoon. 
“Kiss me,” she spoke in an honest confession of lust. 
“What?” James’ voice was breathless as he gawked at the woman in foreign excitement and disbelief. 
Oh, the way he hoped she’d realize that the line between love and hatred stood thin, and they had surely blurred it in Maui, but never did James think she genuinely would. The fault was his, partially. It had been easy to fabricate false narratives for the compound’s residents, convince himself he loathed the woman despite the countless nights of wandering hands and shameful memories of her body. James had designed a malicious persona, but oh, the way he hoped she’d see through it. 
“Kiss me,” she repeated, “because just once, I need to get you out of my system,” her hands slithered to his biceps, “kiss me, so the next time I’ll touch myself at night, it won’t be your face I’ll be seeing.” 
James cupped the back of y/n’s neck, crashing their lips together. The world in the background ceased to exist at the moment. He swiped his tongue against her bottom lip, asking for permission, and she surrendered to the request, tangling her fingers in his copper locks. She gingerly pulled at the root, earning a muffled whimper from James, and he slid his metal arm down to y/n’s waist to bring the woman closer, to erase the barely existent gap between their bodies. She burned with arousal, and Bucky was equally as famished. It was only the lack of oxygen that pulled the couple apart, and James drew in a deep breath, capturing y/n’s lips once more seconds later.
It was a dangerous promise, the kiss. A wildfire that spread through the entirety of her body, stimulating every nerve ending until she was moaning into his mouth as a plead for more, tongues fighting for dominance. It knocked the air out of her lungs, and when she retreated, James didn’t meld their lips, opting to focus on y/n’s neck. He kissed, licked, and sucked the sensitive skin like a man deprived of the only thing he’s ever desired. She was a drug, and god, was James addicted to her scent and her silky skin, and her hands, sloppily untucking his dress shirt, to slide under the fabric and explore his taut muscles. Everywhere she touched scorched, and he messily searched for the zipper of her gown, discarding the dress to the ground as soon as the piece of metal relented.
She was the most beautiful sight James had ever seen as she stood in front of him in just a pair of lacy panties. Art, created by the world’s most talented of artists, an angel bestowed to him by the gods themselves. 
The sergeant brushed his flesh thumb across her lower lip, blending their lips together. His metal hand, the one she had always disgracefully thought was outrageously attractive, slithered between her plush thighs, and James moaned into her mouth upon discovering that she was soaked and aching for him. He shifted the undergarment to the side for access, dragging his fingers through her silken folds. 
Cool metal thumb pressed into her clit, and she broke the kiss, “inside,” she spoke, the tone of her voice laced with desperation, “I want you inside of me.” 
“Sweet girl,” James chuckled, inserting a single digit into her slick heat, “you need to be stretched first.” 
He thrusted his finger a few times before adding a second digit. She clenched around him, messily unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the carpeted floors. The pace of his thrusts remained steady and agonizingly slow as James basked in her pleasure-riddled expression. 
The woman clutched the waistband of his trousers, messing with the belt, her fingers trembling as James continued to stroke the sensitive spot inside her with two of his fingers. “Please,” she muttered, “faster.” 
A sly smirk waltzed on his lips at the request, but, instead of obeying y/n’s wishes, he halted the activity, removing his hand, and placed the metal in his mouth, sucking it clean, “such a sweet thing you are.” 
Warmth crept up her neck and onto her cheekbones. He hastily removed the trousers, placing his hands on the back of y/n’s upper thighs, hoisting the woman, and gently tossed her onto the spongy bed. She stared at him through curious eyes, lowering her gaze to observe the bulge in his boxers, and swallowed the lump in her throat. Judging by the outline in his underwear, James was huge, far bigger than the men she had fooled around with in the past. 
“I want to taste you,” she confessed, propping herself up on her elbows.
James shook his head no, hooking his fingers under the waistband of her onyx panties to tear them off, “next time, doll.” 
She wasn’t certain whether there would be a next time, for James had discovered a side to her, she had long buried. An alter ego, who was submissive, and pliable, and starved for the touch of a man she described as her enemy. 
James nestled between her legs, arms on either side of her waist, and placed chaste kisses on y/n’s mouth and jawline. His head dipped lower as he assailed her neck and chest, popping a nipple in his mouth. The sergeant sucked the sensitive bud before nipping on it, massaging her other breast with his hand and rolling the right nipple between his fingers. 
She writhed under him, eyes shut from the waves of pleasure racing through her. James didn’t linger over the area, choosing to concentrate on kissing the length of y/n’s body as he crawled to situate himself betwixt her thighs. Goosebumps painted the path of his eager kisses, and she grasped a handful of his hair when James gave her clit a kitten lick to test the response. 
“James,” she purred as he repeated the action and slithered two digits back into her dripping heat. 
“Use your words,” he grazed his tongue over the bud again, applying a little bit more pressure, “tell daddy what you want.” 
The woman’s eyes shot open at the term but then he was thrusting his fingers into her wetness, repeatedly hitting the delicious spot that made her toes curl, the insult toward James forgotten. 
“Mouth,” she mumbled, too lost in the delectation to form a coherent sentence. 
James snickered at her vague response, wrapping a pair of soft lips around y/n’s clit. The thrusting of his fingers persisted as he stimulated the area. James was spelling out his full name on her sex, she realized by the time he had started tracing a b for Buchanan, yet she abstained from further reflections, coming undone by his mouth and fingers seconds before James could complete tracing the s in Barnes.  
“Good girl,” he praised, helping y/n ride out her orgasm.
James withdrew his fingers, sucking them clean of y/n’s stickiness before he removed the metal with a pop, and peeled off his boxers, flinging the garment across the space.
The room was modern and opulent, with floor-to-ceiling windows exposing the ever-awake skyline of New York City, its sky-high buildings, impressive bridges, and countless lights. It was situated on the fortieth floor of the hotel, creating a perfect opportunity to indulge in a bit of a rush and leave the curtains wide open without a true risk of innocent bystanders witnessing the scene.
James kneeled on the bed. The usual glimmer of annoyance toward her in his eyes had been replaced by a feral kind of hunger, and, as she stared at him like a pray would observe its hunter, y/n decided that, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the first or the last time she’d let James treasure her body. 
She loosely draped her forearms over his neck when he slanted to capture her nipple in his mouth, “I know you consistently ignore my wishes,” she whimpered, “but for the love of god, sergeant, I need you.” 
He chuckled, showing attention to the other bud by pinching it, “my sweet girl wants to get filled, huh?” 
James’ throbbing weight rested heavily against the skin of her thighs, and she reached down to palm it. “Yes.” 
The woman’s nimble fingers caressed the reddened tip, spreading his precum on the surface before she dipped her hand a tad lower to gently fondle his balls. A moan escaped past his lips at her eager endeavor. 
“I like it when you’re needy,” James pulled back and she groaned at the loss of him in her hands, “and dripping,” his fingers ghosted over the velvety folds before he was manhandling the spy to rest on her knees and forearms, “willing to let daddy take care of you.” 
She ignored the name yet again but stored it within her memories to use for blackmail in the future. “Is he?” She questioned when Bucky clutched her hips and pushed his hand down on her back for a deeper arch. “Is daddy gonna fuck me, or is he just going to talk all night?” 
James understood she only used the term to mock him, but shit, did it stir his already aching cock. He palmed himself twice before dragging his length along her slick folds, the metal hand abandoning her hips to circle her waist and gently rub y/n’s clit from behind. She clenched around emptiness, pressing into his pelvis for friction, and Bucky ceased his movements, removing the fingers from her bud to harshly grip the flesh of y/n’s hips once more. James continued the torture, lazily teasing her entrance, and she painfully sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. 
“What do we say when we want something?” He taunted the woman, utterly enjoying her anguish. 
“James,” she mumbled into the crisp sheets. 
The soldier found amusement in the warning but showed mercy, sinking into her sodden heat. He’d fuck the brat out of her on a different day.
A strained whimper escaped past her lips at the delicious stretch of his cock, matching Bucky’s hiss at the way the spy’s walls drunk him in. James thrusted into her a few times, experimenting with speed and rhythm. A particularly rough roll of his hips seemed to rip a piercing moan from y/n’s throat, and he grinned, abandoning the hold on her hips to massage her clit again.
The room was saturated in vulgar noises of skin slapping against skin, moans, and desperate whines as James mercilessly pounded into her. She sobbed into a pillow as he led her to the edge for the second time, refusing to burst the bubble and let the flame consume her, thick fingers retreating just before the orgasm could ignite her body, over and over again.
James consumed every shallow breath and every wail, deciding that it would not be the last time he’d listen to the melody — she was a sin he’d gratefully burn in hell for, and an angel he’d break down heaven’s gates to attain. The soldier suddenly removed himself from her, already missing y/n’s silken walls squeezing around him, and shifted the woman, so that she rested on her back. He captured her ankles, draping them over his shoulders before he roughly thrusted back in. She wept at the overstimulation when he bottomed out, balls slapping against the skin of her ass. The new angle allowed James to reach far deeper. 
He groaned, “you’re so tight,” thumb brushing against her plush lips, “my sweet, sweet girl,” he cooed, “wanna worship this pussy all night.” 
And in his head, the statement stood true, but it was his body that opposed it, his arousal steadily creeping over the edge of an orgasm. 
She shut her eyes, expression drenched with pleasure, “I’ma cum,” she moaned. 
“I know, doll.” James wiped off the tear threatening to roll down her cheek and captured y/n’s lips in a messy kiss. 
“It feels good—,” she hiccuped when he pulled away, “—so good.” 
The world stilled. It was only James’ ragged breath and the heavenly orgasm she could focus on, washing over her body in syrupy waves and causing her toes to curl into the mattress below. She raked her nails over the skin of his back, leaving scorching marks in her wake. 
“Shit,” James cursed as his own peak approached, his strokes sloppy. 
It was a few thrusts later when he climaxed, painting her velvety walls white with a loud moan. He licked a sensitive spot on y/n’s neck, propping himself up on his forearms when the thunderous arousal began to quiet.
She brushed the hair that had gotten stuck to his sweaty forehead aside, “we don’t have evidence to convict Nancy,” she spoke when her heartbeat steadied.  
James sighed amusedly, pulling out his softened length and maneuvering to lay beside her. “This is what you say after we just had sex for the first time?” 
“Yes,” she deflected, refusing to admit she had fallen for the soldier and that it would not be the only time they’d get tangled in the sheets. 
“Alright,” he abandoned the bed with a laugh and gathered y/n’s exhausted body in his arms to locate the bathroom, “but let’s shower before we talk shop.” 
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James observed the skyline of New York City. It was the place they had first encountered one another, back when he had brutally stabbed the woman. She rested on his bare chest now, peacefully asleep, soft snores falling from her lips. Times have changed, James realized with a heavy heart because change was uncertain and scary. It was worth it, though, if it meant the sergeant could love her up close and without barriers between them. It’d surely take a while to erase the tainted memories of the past, but they had been at war for five years, and he’d happily spend another five falling in love. 
An iPhone James had recently purchased dinged with a text. 
CAPTAIN AMERICA: guess Wanda and I won’t have to sleep with our eyes open after all:)
His mouth curved into a smile, elated Steve had not only woken up but was cracking jokes over the situation he had forced Bucky into. 
WHITE WOLF: debatable. 
It was not debatable — Steve and Wanda sending the couple on a honeymoon in Maui was the best decision they could’ve made, for the moon found his sun at last. 
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TAGS:
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thebestofoneshots · 17 days
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firstly, I absolutely adore your blog!! <3 ur so cool
secondly im curious to know- what marvel superhero would you assign to each of the marauders? I personally think sirius would love ironman, he’s so tony stark coded
AH, you're combining some of my favourite fandoms, babe! Which is why I might end up writing a way deeper analysis than I need to lol. But let's go through it one by one.
My darling James, the golden boy of his era, he is 100% Captain America. He is hell-bent on protecting those he loves, and he would do anything for them. Also, he's been in love with one girl for all of his life. It's just so fitting for him, I feel?
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But also, I feel like James could also be a great Spiderman (and that is probably his favourite superhero), especially younger James, with his charm and charisma and how he is loved and cherished by his people. Also, he is totally in love with a redhead.
Remus Lupin is a complicated one. You know, I feel like Hulk is quite fitting, since you know he gets angry and turns into a green monster, which kind of relates to Rem in a deeper level. Having said that, I think his superhero would be Moon Knight and I'm ready to diе on this grave.
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Hear me out, it's about the deep-held emotional trauma and the way Steven and Jake came into existence to protect Mark, he would absolutely love, love Moon Knight, especially the Disney+ version of him. There's also the lack of control the multiple personalities entail (which is very much like Remus' turning into Moony) and the moon theme. Besides, Rem would totally have a mini crush on Oscar Isaac.
And for Sirius, I agree, he is definitely Iron Man coded and would love Tony, I mean it's in the daddy issues they share with each other, the family background, the rich kid persona and all that. But I also think Sirius would love, and I mean LOVE Peter Quill (StarLord).
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StarLord also has family issues, but he grew to become an absolutely charming character, sharing his love for beings with Sirius (aka they're both a little bit of heartbreakers) and he is super funny, which I feel Sirius would love. They both love music, and Sirius would praise Starlord's taste every single day of the week. Something else Siri would love about StarLord is his found family. He met the Guardians of the Galaxy and they all adopted each other, in the same way, Sirius adopted and was adopted by James and Remus.
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Reggie is Bucky Barnes (and this is one of my favourite Marvel characters). Bucky was brainwashed and tortured by Hydra, in pretty much the same way Reggie was by his family. He shared that traumatic past and his absolute desire to be better, and to improve, he doesn't want to be a deatheater anymore and he fights for what's good. Also, if he is Bucky and James is Cap, we can have a bit of Starchaser hehe.
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Lily loves Spiderman, and not because James does, nah, Lily has been a fan since she was a kid, she loves his sense of justice and how he fights for what's good. Spiderman's motto "With great power, comes great responsibility" is literally Lily's bible.
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Marlene is into Black Window, and not only bc she has a massive crush on her, but because she thinks she is the most badass character in the entire fucking Marvel universe, no joke. She can stand against beasts three times her size, and fight alongside the most powerful superheroes on earth by being just a human woman? She is INCREDIBLE!
Mary gives me Vision vibes, I'm not sure why, but I totally see her reading Vision fanfiction and writing some too.
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Barty is a Loki kid, you cannot change my mind. I mean, forgotten and neglected child who has to be exceptionally good at everything to get the attention from his dad? He becomes evil bc he thinks it's the only way he'll get Odin to see him? This to me screams Barty, and he would love Loki.
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And lastly, I think Evan likes Quick Silver. Firstly, he thinks he's super hot, but he also loved his relationship with his sister, and he loves Pietro's charm. There's just something about him that he can't stop thinking about. I also feel he would like Mystique, but that's due to her complicated past, and her ability to become anything anyone she wants. He feels it would be so freeing to do that.
PS. Didn't I say I'd go crazy with this analysis? Aaaah I'm such a nerd...
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sebastianstansqueen · 9 months
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Lost In The Shadows: Part Three
A/N: If you want to be Tagged, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open.
Wordcount: 1,306
Warnings:  Angst, drinking, mentions of death, past abuse, but I think that is all actually
Masterlist // Series Masterlist // Taglist open// 
Tags: @cherryblossomsky - - @babylooneytoonz - @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond - @leyannrae - @avengerlex - @pineprincess - @nik2write - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08 - @scxrletrecsmarvel - @sebsgirl71479 - @missvelvetsstuff - @hadesownhell - @casa-boiardi - @winterslove1917 - @hallecarey1 - @ash-craze - @barnesxstan - @unaxv -
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Y/n paced in the back and forth in the back of the large venue wearing a gorgeous billowing dress, with fluffy sleeves, she chose this dress. “What if this was something I decided on a whim?” She asked Natasha, as she continued her back and forth path. 
Natasha shook her head. “Y/n, I love you but it’s a little late to be contradicting your choices.” They did a proposal dinner, and the practice dinner the night before, and now Y/n had butterflies. James had been distant at both events, she knew it was obviously because of what happened at Inferno a few months ago, a lot of his things have already gotten to Y/n’s family’s compound. 
“I know, but it’s scary everytime.” Y/n said the excuse is a way to help her anxiety. 
Natasha came up to stop her friend from making a track on the carpet. “Y/n, sit down, take a breath, look I can help you run get you out of the states for a bit.” She winked and nudged  Y/n. 
“I have to do this, I made this choice. I'm going through with it.” She sighed just as doors to the left opened. 
“I’ve been looking for the two of you everywhere.” Wanda says out of breath. “Come on, it’s about to start and we’ve gotta get out there.” 
Bucky, stood alone at the altar waiting for the doors to open and to see Steve along with whoever Y/n chose as a maid of honor. As the doors open his eyes go up, first Steve walked down with a woman with light red hair, after them is Sam, along with the bartender from Inferno, his brows furrowed, after the two of them it was his young niece, she began to take a few petals and let it fall down on the ivory rug, and then Y/n made her way down alone, her side of the isle contained mainly friends, and cousins but a large chunk of the back on her side were notable families. 
The ceremony was normal, we gave the vows provided by the officiant, as we held hands, at the end of that we made our way into a room in the back of the venue to sign the legal document, and after that they moved to the reception, where family wanted to take pictures, with the newly weds. At the end of the reception, both of them changed into more comfortable clothing. Bucky wore white pants with a black button up and Y/n wore a simple short satin dress with a square neckline and an inch or two sized straps over her arms. They walked down the walkway to a white SUV, Bucky opened the door for Y/n to get in first and then him, before he closed it. Y/n sat with her flowers in her lap as the car pulled away with Andy driving. The ride was silent, but as they pulled up to a tar mac, Y/n got out, Bucky got out with his brows furrowed. “What are we doing here?” He asked her. 
“We’re going on a honeymoon.” She said as she was already heading up the stairs of the jet, as people grabbed luggage from the trunk of the large car. 
Bucky made his way up and into the main seating area, Y/n had already gone somewhere and was nowhere to be found, he sat down randomly, just trying to relax for the first time that day, as the steps were put up, and the engine started Y/n came out from the pilot pit, and sat down. The plane was fully silent, eventually one of the attendants walked up, with a drink. “What is it?” Bucky asked the woman with bright blond hair.
“Don Julio 1942, Mis.Car-Barnes had the plane stocked up with more if this isn’t quite what you want.” She smiled as she spoke, Bucky took the glass she had offered originally. 
 “Could you, bring out a few of the bottles, and have the staff leave me and Y/n for a little bit.” He told her before she left she nodded a moment later she came out with another woman carrying four options of alcohol, he smiled and took one, he would give this one more try.
He walked up carrying two glasses, and a bottle for them. She had her full attention on her laptop, as she intensely typed and she occasionally typed stuff on her phone, he sat down next to her, puring the two drinks. “What are you doing?” She asked, looking at him with furrowed brows. 
“I want to get to know you, at least a little before we're locked in a house together.” He joked lightly, her face reminded of the same. 
“James.” She sighed out. “I’ve gotta work, I don’t really catch breaks.” 
Bucky shook his head. “Ten minutes and a few drinks.” He wanted to come to an agreement. 
She sighed and turned away from the screen giving him her full attention, he closed the laptop with his hand, and handed her the cup, with clear liquid, she threw it back easily. “So are we gonna sit in silence or are you gonna ask me a question?” She arched her brow as she poured another, little bit bigger drink. 
Y/n didn’t care at this point she, wanted  to get a little wasted on her wedding night, especially after the stressful morning, so, James pulling her away from work provided a good excuse, the burn of alcohol never really bugged her so as she waited for the first question she sipped on the drink and waited for something to start hitting. “Tell me about you, your last marriage I don’t know, I just don’t want to be married to a stranger.” He explained. 
“My marriage, to Henry, was.” She thought for a moment, she wasn’t just gonna open up and say that on her last honeymoon in a jet similar to this one going in a completely different direction, there was a glass table and as soon as they landed she had to be hurried to the hospital. “Intense, lots of responsibilities, he was an older man.” Who still had ten times more strength than her at the time of their marriage. 
“Okay.” He nodded, taking what little he could from the short sentences. “What do you like to do? Other than work.” 
She arched her brow. “I mean, I don’t really know, I used to read a lot, and draw, I like music too.” She shrugged, taking a long drink out of the glass she held. “Tell me about you, I know about the car, I’ve taken a few looks at it since it’s arrived, it looks well done, from what I saw inside and out.” 
“You know about cars?” He arched his brow and she nodded slightly.
“Yeah, when I was younger, the family mechanic usually would come to the compound, sometimes I’d find myself in the garage, and he would show me the safer stuff, but yeah I know a thing or two.” She nodded with what she was saying. “I wouldn’t say I’m an expert but I know what I need to get by.”
“I’ve had that car since I was a teenager, I got that as my first car.” He explained why it was so sentimental.
“Why did you move to Indiana?” She asked casually. 
“I think, I’ll wait till you're willing to open up more till I tell you about that.” He threw back another drink of his own. “When are we gonna land?” 
 “I would suggest getting settled in, we’ve been in the air for an hour, we still got another eight.” She smiled out from behind her glass, before drinking the rest.
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madameaug · 3 months
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Promise Me || Bucky x Black Reader
Synopsis: This occurs maybe about a year after the events of Captain America: Civil War. The reader is a black woman and should be imagined as such :) Bucky is 37, and the reader is ideally 32/33.
Very angsty (reader and bucky are getting a divorce). Not edited at the moment. First non-BTS imagine/fic so I'm super nervous. I love Marvel too <3
I didn't think forever for us would end so soon. Four years seemingly going down the drain. Two years of dating, eight months of engagement, and barely a year of marriage. I felt like I was giving up. Quitting. Like I wasn't honoring my vows.
Til death do us part.
But when I took those vows I believed I was giving them to James Buchanan Barnes. Who I lovingly refer to as Bucky. A man a slightly older than me, but didn't look a day over thirty. He was the man that I envisioned as a little girl marrying.
A man who was tall, easy on the eyes, with a look of danger, but a heart of gold. Bucky had the perfect mix of both. A veteran turned firefighter. He risked his life daily, saving those in a life-or-death situation. He was second chances, personified for these people. He was a light of hope in the darkness of succumbing to a burning fate. He was a hero.
A hero.
A hero more in the literal sense than what I could have possibly imagined.
Bucky Barnes wasn't a thirty-seven-year-old man who was technologically challenged. Not a man who liked listening to music artist from the 1930s. He was sophisticated and romantic.
Doll was his favorite name to call me. Initially, I thought he was just trying to hard not to use generic pet names like 'baby' or 'bae'. Or that maybe his fascination with the olden days carried into his pet names for his girlfriends. But now I wish the truth was that easy and simple to understand. It didn't involve decades of high-profile assassinations and the bringing down of governments.
One man could bring down an entire government regime.
And that man, is my husband?
My James?
My Bucky?
The man sitting across from me in this stuffy monochrome conference room. Well the conference room was quite large. It's just the tension was sucking out any air circulation.
When I took my vows to James Barnes, I hadn't realized I said them to this 'Winter Soldier' to. A man wanted by hundreds of countries for international crimes that date back to the Kennedy administration. A man hunted down by the Black Panther for killing the king of the most powerful nation.
No, surely there was a mistake.
But I would be foolish to argue with evidence. Pictures of his stalky figure I curled up to several times at night. Blue eyes were the portals to his true thoughts. Shoulder-length hair I raked my fingers through mindlessly when listening to him recount his twelve-hour shift at the station. His wardrobe wasn't anything special, which explains why he could slip under the radar for so long.
That was him. He was responsible but not at the same time. Fourteen hours after being interrogated by Maria Hill, I better understood the double life Bucky The Winter Soldier had been living. Believed to be dead by the Allies, he was held hostage by Karpov, who brainwashed him and tortured him until he became the Winter Soldier. Breaking his mind, and piecing him back together to become he perfect killing machine in human form.
Helmut Zemo managed to get his hands on the book containing the words that activate the Winter Solider. He awakened the monster and manipulated him into the bombings that killed King T'Chaka. He used the Winter Solider to effectively divide and dissolve the Avengers. Zemo was responsible for taking away the Bucky that I knew. The hero.
"I'm glad you and your client could be civil and agree to our demands." Your lawyer, Jennifer Walters, spoke. You and Bucky's lawyer had been talking for twenty minutes, but you couldn't focus on their legal jargon. You were tuned out, tracing your steps on how you and Bucky were sitting in this office. On the opposite end of the table, staring at each other as if we'd become opponents. No longer players on the same team.
Bucky's eyes dragged across to scan Jennifer's face. In his heart he held no misplaced hatred for the woman. She was a professional doing her job, representing the interest of her client. He didn't spend long reading the lists of things that you wanted from the marriage.
The house was yours, he wouldn't dare try to live in that house if you weren't there. It wasn't good for him to stay in open spaces, for too long it freaked him out.
Most of your demands were reasonable and he put up no fight. He didn't want to fight with you. When he finally got his head on straight, he wanted to explain his disappearance. He wanted to be the first person to tell you about the Soviets and the Winter Soldier Program. He wanted to tell you about the bad things that he's done, but his memory was a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. He wasn't sure if you would believe him, until he had all the pieces. When he did come across a piece, he was scared that it would show more harm than he did.
Confirming his belifs that he wasn't worthy of a second chance. That he could find happiness living a solo mundane life. Even with his slow aging, he could blend in his environment and live a good life. He would keep intact what little of his humanity he had left. But after Zemo got his hands on him again that little sliver of his humanity was gone. He was a tool designed for slaughter and destruction. Becoming a firefighter saving people wouldn't undo all the lives he took. Marrying you, the love of his life, wouldn't give him the normalcy he sought. He was reminded of that every time he looked down and saw the metal arm. The brute strength granted him the ability to kill with ease. The same metal arm that would now be a reminder of everything he was getting ready to lose with his wife.
The lawyers summarized the documents, and everything signed up to this point. The deed to the house, papers to change your last name, insurance paperwork, everything was discussed. Bucky even took it upon himself to hand you his 401k from firefighting.
Never had the lawyers seen a divorce proceeding go so smoothly. Usually, they have to clear out the rest of their calendars for divorce calendars. Would today be the day that they get out before the late lunch rush? Oh, let it be true.
Jennifer was smart in her word choice. Avoiding the emotional minefields that the couple has. The room was somber, as you shared your emotional hardships. Dealing with the sudden disappearance of your husband. Preparing for a funeral without a body, dreading adopting the label as a widower. Becoming behind on the mortgage and personal family issues flaring up.
Even though it was emotionally heavy, it was easy to formulate the words. You thought long and hard about what you wanted to say. However, you didn't truly have the words for the physical hardship, which was much more challenging to hide. Your right wrist in a sling. A fracture of the ulna and three smaller bones. The one place Bucky has been fighting with himself not to look.
From an instance of right place, wrong time. It would be your first time revealing the details of your broken wrist out loud. Even when Jennifer asked, you were short with your explanation. But looking at Bucky for probably the last time, you were moved by emotion. Emotions of hurt, frustration, and sorrow.
"I see that you haven't signed the restraining order." You gathered your tone to sound as unemotional and far removed as possible.
"Why?"
"I'm not signing it."
The tension in the room deepens as this is the first time you have directly spoken to Bucky. Your lawyers were doing a lot of the communicating for you.
He didn't want to word vomit his emotions and potentially mispeak. Widening the divide between the two. So he opted to sit in silence, letting his heartbreak in silence. Divorce from the only woman he ever loved was going to take a lifetime to heal. On top of that, a restraining order would send him to an early grave.
"What? I thought you agreed to all of our terms."
"That's why I wanted to talk in person. I cant get myself to agree to this. I can't."
Bucky sat across from you with a plea in his eyes. He didn't want to let go of the connection he spent four years building with you. His heart and mind fought each other for days when he got the divorce paperwork. His heart wanted to fight for the marriage. Fight for the sacred union yall made in front of your friends and family. Fight for the love he knew deep down that you still had for him. But his mind hit him with the harsh truth. You weren't safe around him. Having all these enhanced abilities, having this metal arm could protect you. That it wasn't a curse, but a blessing in disguise.
But that wasn't true. And his brain reminded him of that fact with a mental image of your arm in the sling.
It was before Steve managed to track down Bucky's coordinates to that apartment building. When he was still hiding in plain sight. You just happened to be there. Browsing different vendors, as it was the city was hosting a market.
Bucky was right beside you, you knew his scent from anywhere. And the fact that his head slightly turned in your direction, upon calling him confirmed it.
"Buck is that you?"
You raised a hand to touch his face. "It's me. Remember?" His metal hand gripped yours tightly. His hand clapped down on your wrist, leaving you at the mercy of his strength.
You attempted to snatch your hand back. Eyes swelled with tears, as the pain was escalating. Buck remained silent, as he twisted your wrist, to an almost 180 point.
"STOP IT! JAMES STOP!" Your shriek brought unnecessary attention to him. In a frustrated grunt, he huffed before completing the snap. He walked off into the crowd without looking back at you. Those eyes that were the portals to reading his mind was closed. There was nothing behind those eyes. Even in the presence of his wife, his eyes didn't change. I was a stranger. A stranger that he could very easily hurt with little provocation.
Holding onto your broken wrist you were soon comforted by a stand manager. He got you up on your feet and walked you in the direction of the nearest medical aid.
"Please, Bucky. Let this be a clean break. It's for the best."
"The best for who?" His voice a mixture of frustration and vulnerability. "I've been through a lot. We've been through a lot. I want to fight for us. This restraining order snuffs out any chance of us rekindling this."
"We've changed Bucky. The world has changed. I need a fresh start, and I think you need one too."
"You are my fresh start. Don't you see!?" Bucky couldn't go into much detail. His lawyer was unaware of his assassin's past. He was more skeptical than ever about what details he shared about his personal life. Lawyer, doctor, psychiatrist or not. There could be more Zemo's looking to play puppet master with his mind.
"Think about your safety."
The lawyers attempt to mediate. They could sense that something was being left out of the conversation. Something that was connected to your arm in the sling. You were standing firm in your position to sever any ties to Bucky. This was the best decision for the both of you.
Bucky didn't have to worry about his superhero work trickling into his personal life. Not having to worry if some vengeful villain would come searching for you, and harm you to even out the score with Bucky. It was just another concern that didn't have to cloud his mind.
While you wouldn't have to worry about Bucky not coming back home. Getting the news from SHIELD agents that Bucky had died protecting the world from some global threat. The heartache would be too much.
"This is getting us nowhere. Did you and your client really come here to waste our time?"
"Mr. Barnes is just as entitled to getting all of his demands met.
The lawyers started bickering. The couple with actual grounds of argue sitting in silence. You spoke up first, your raised voice silencing the room.
"I'm not asking you to change who you are. I know you've been through a lot. And it is a lot." You reached your hand out to grasp his. You wanted to convey that your heart was full of love for Bucky. You could see a broken and scared man in front of you. A man with more skeletons in his closet than you would like to imagine. But you loved him. And with that love, you had to make the tough choices for both of you.
"You need space and time to collect yourself. Fight those battles in your mind. Get better and heal."
A singular tear runs down your cheek and hits the wooden table as you continue spilling your heart out.
"I love you. I love all of you, and I forgive you. You were unwell and need true help. As much as I want to remove that pain from you, I know that I can't. My love isn't enough. Sometimes love requires letting go. Let me go. Please."
"Even when I was sick, I still had dreams of you. I couldn't make out your face, but I found myself reliving our dates. The time I took you to the drive-thru movies. You said I made you feel like you were in high school again. Or the time I accidentally used all your leave in conditioner on wash day.
Then I started dreaming of a family with you. Raising mini versions of ourselves away from the chaos my life brought. The woods were our backyard, and we were happy. With you I was happy. I still want to make that dream a reality. I'm willing to give up anything to ensure our future."
You listened to his plea. You could tell he was genuine. He would if he could give up his enhanced abilities to be with you. No doubt about it. However, you knew that Bucky was meant for something greater. When he was a soldier who fought the good fight. He was destined to be a hero. A would-be alongside Captain America, fighting threats the world doesn't know about. Ensuring that we live in a world, where us regular people wouldn't have to.
"I can't be the reason you give that up, Buck." You said gently. "It's a part of who you are. Even when you've made mistakes, I've seen you try to right your wrongs. That's the Bucky I know, the hero."
The room was silent again filled with emotion. Bucky had to come to terms that yall were on different paths. Two paths diverged into a left and right. That even under the premise of love, you were right. Bucky was too vulnerable. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened. The Winter Soldier was an ugly part of him that he had to live with. He has to make room for that identity instead of pretending it never existed.
He would be working with Steve and Sam Wilson on hunting down any of the remaining Winter Soldiers. He was thrusting himself into danger. Danger that he didn't want you to be apart of, danger that he felt responsible to end.
You leaned over to whisper in Jennifer's ears. Maybe the restraining order was too much. You were making a rash decision that you may come to regret in the future. Jennifer following the request of her client, placed the restraining order papers in the shredder.
"My client had a change of mind." She stood up packing up all the signed papers in her briefcase.
"Well all the paperwork is signed, our work is done here."
The divorce meeting came to a close and both parties went their separate ways. There you stood discussing the next steps with Jennifer. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky alone. He waited at the bottom of the stairs.
Jennifer took her cue to dismiss herself. With your eyes low, you carefully walked down the courthouse steps to stand before Bucky.
"Promise me we will find a way back to each other."
"I can't promise that Bucky. And you shouldn't make promises you can't keep."
"I would keep that promise. I would stake my life on it." He brought your left hand to his chest. Your wedding ring still on your finger. You hadn't thought about when you would take it off.
"Promise me." His lips were a few inches away from yours. Your eyes were conversing in another language of their own. Saying their goodbyes, and final 'I love yous.'
You brought Bucky into your arms. Arms wrapping around his shoulder as you cried silently to yourself. Bucky tightened his arms around you, his warms rubbing circles in your back. A hypnotizing pattern that would put you to sleep. It was settling over the both of you that this could be the last time that you held one another like this.
You let go of the hug first. Your hand on his chiseled face again. This time not worried that he would harm you again.
"I love you." You laid a tender kiss on his lips. Capturing your affection and goodbyes.
"Promise me." Bucky spoke during the kiss. "Promise me Doll."
You placed your thumb over his lip. You looked deep into his eyes. He was hanging onto every word that you said. Bucky's phone rings, breaking the staring contest you had. To no ones surprise, Steve was on the other end. A bitter reminder of the double life that Bucky was apart of.
"I need to hear you say it."
"I promise."
Bucky leaves a passing kiss on your lips before walking away from the courthouse. He picked up the phone, walking with haste. In a few short seconds, a red-headed woman joined him on his side.
My hero.
My Bucky.
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winterwitch-trash · 3 months
Text
“All hell breaks loose.”
Author's Note: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! Apologies this took so long to post! I'm back on this fic with a small change: Bucky's wife has a name finally. (Otherwise it would be boring to keep repeating "She" or "Bucky's wife" all the time, right? Right!)
Summary: Bucky's wife has arranged a day out in the city to attend meetings with local charities. Bucky isn't too keen on letting her go without a bodyguard but she has convinced him that she can take care of herself. Oh how wrong she was...
Word Count: 1952 words Chapter Warnings: Language, Violence, non-con (TRIGGERING CONTENT, PROCEED WITH CAUTION, DNI)
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Months of meticulous planning and preparation were finally paying off. Rumlow had somehow found out where Barnes’s wife would be. She would be having a business lunch with people representing various charities. Too bad she would never make it there. Rumlow’s men had strict orders to keep her alive. After all, he wanted to be the one who dealt with her, knowing that it would ruin James.
“Sir, we are all prepared to leave.” One of the men informed the mobster who smirked in response. “Bring her to me.” He simply ordered, taking a sip from his scotch. In a few hours, he would have his enemy down to his knees, begging like a dog…
As for Bucky’s wife, she had absolutely no idea what was about to happen to her. It was one of those rare times she didn’t choose to take a bodyguard with her, despite Bucky’s requests for her to do so. She was just about to leave the mansion when a disgruntled brown-haired mobster appeared at her door. “Doll…Please, at least take Steve with you.. That’ll give me some peace of mind while you’re out there doing business.” He attempted one more time only to be met with an amused look from her. “Sweetheart, I love you, but you know I can take care of myself… Besides, you taught me self-defense.  ” She reminded him, a soft laugh echoing from her lips as she kissed his cheek before moving towards the door. “I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.” She finally told him, not knowing that it would be a while until she made it home… She also didn’t know that things would change from now on…
Bucky knew she was right. She could take care of herself if need be. Nothing could prepare him for what was coming though.
As the day went by, he couldn’t really focus on anything. And Steve was able to pick up on his friend’s discomfort. “I know you’re worried, but you know her.. She’s going to be back soon, and she’ll be in one piece. Right?”
He couldn’t be more wrong though…. Soon, Bucky’s worries would turn out to be justified.
As his wife was heading to the restaurant where the representatives of the charity organization were awaiting, a gunshot echoed in the air, lodging itself between the driver’s eyes, sending the car spinning out, ultimately crashing into a water pole. The impact was so intense that it caused her to black out.
After what seemed like an eternity, she woke up in a dark room, slightly disoriented from the crash earlier. But eventually, her vision became clearer and she realized that she was tied down. “Shit… I’ve got to get out of here…” She mumbled to herself, fear and panic rising within her as the minutes ticked by. It was only then that she saw a dark shadow approaching with slow movements. “Glad to see you woke up princess…” He said, wetting his lips in that disgusting manner that made the uneasy feeling worse. Who was this man and what did he want with her? “…. Ah, yes. Where are my manners?” He taunted, revealing himself. “The name is Rumlow…” 
At the sound of the name, a shiver wrecked Bucky’s wife. This was not good. Not good at all.
“What do you want with me?” She asked bravely, making the dark-haired mobster laugh in response. “Simply to meet the woman who stole my enemy’s heart. And I can see why he’s taken with you sweetheart…” Rumlow mused tracing a finger across her collarbone. Sweetheart.. God, the pet name sounded so wrong from his lips….
“Don’t you fuckin’ touch me!” The female spat, trying to get his hands off her. This act of defiance only served to enrage Rumlow who backhanded her without a warning. Deep down though, he liked women who appeared brave in the face of danger…
“Then don’t provoke me you little bitch…” He growled, ripping the dress shirt off of her, leaving her exposed in the cool air of the room. And that was the first time she actually began feeling scared, considering the hungry look he was sporting. Whatever he was planning… it was not good. Not good at all.
“Now, you and I will send a little message to your husband… It would be a shame for him to worry about your whereabouts..” He smirked again, causing her to whimper in fear. And that’s what spurred Rumlow on to carry out his plan. What the girl didn’t know was that there was a camera recording all the disgusting actions that took place.
It didn’t matter that Bucky’s wife kept pleading for him to stop touching her… He simply laughed, extinguishing cigars all over her body, just to make her scream in agony before he tilted her chin up, forcing her to look up at him through tearful eyes. “The real pain has begun baby girl… Are you ready for yours?” He taunted, lowering his pants. “Please… Please let me go…” She cried, seemingly having given up. After all he was physically stronger.
“Stop moving and I’ll make it fun for the both of us…” He sneered, cupping her cheek. This gesture made her nauseous but she stilled and allowed him to caress her cheek. Oh this was turning out easier than he thought… “See, princess? It’s not that hard to relax and enjoy it…I can’t wait to hear those sweet sounds I’m sure you’re gonna make..” That was the breaking point for Odette. She couldn’t bare feeling his disgusting hands all over her. So she did the one thing she could think of, biting down on his hand, causing Rumlow to jump back in surprise. “What the fuck?!” He yelped inspecting his palm that was bleeding. She had drawn blood, which both impressed him and enraged him.
While Rumlow was trying to stop the blood from the small wound, Odette found the opportunity to undo the knot that was binding her hands together, and then it was a fight or flight situation as she tried to make a run for the door, only to be pulled back by none other than Rumlow who was practically inhaling her scent, causing violent shivers to wreck her scarred body resulting her freezing completely in fear. Whatever fight she had left in her had completely vanished, and now she was at his mercy – or the lack of it. She just wanted this to end as quickly as possible.
“What’s the matter sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?? Rumlow smirked forcing a wet kiss across her breasts. For the first time, Odette’s voice was caught in a silent plea for help, wishing that Bucky would storm the place and shoot Rumlow dead. But to no avail…
Rumlow simply laughed mockingly, bending her over, towards where the camera was placed. After that, it felt like everything had faded to black… She missed how he enjoyed taking advantage of her, how he growled in pleasure while she suffered. All while that damn camera was recording everything. Hours later, Odette woke up, disoriented and sore, and scared out of her mind as her memory of the events that took place mere hours ago.  Oh god… She had to get out of here… @tuiccim @world-of-aus A huge thank you to both for helping out with ideas and feedback <3
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