#sam wilson x female reader
𝐬𝐨...𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞?￼
pairing || sugardaddy!sam x fem!reader
word count || 768
summary || your status from sugar baby to “sugar wife?”
warnings || marriage, age gap, sneaking around, cheating on boyfriend, angry boyfriend, previous club worker, previous promiscuous relationships, name calling, public sex if you squint
authors note || PLEASE REBLOG MY TAGLIST IS ENDING ON JULY 10TH PLEASE FOLLOW @dulceslibrary AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS TO BE NOTIFIED WHEN I POST 18+ ONLY,, feedback is appreciated
𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 | 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑
You and Sam had just recently got married. You married an older man. Of course not too old. You left your boyfriend finally and Sam asked you to be his, it was a short but sweet ceremony. Just like you wanted. Sam insisted that you should have more but you didn’t want it.
“So...you got yourself a sugar daddy” Your best friend looked at you and said. “Not anymore, we’re married.” You shook your head looking around at the clothing that was in the shop. “He’s still like 15 years older than you and pays for everything and gives you money.”
Since you married Sam, everything has been perfect for you. You didn’t worry about not having money, being treated wrong and not feeling like you were second best to anyone.
"Yes, he's my sugar daddy, and I'm his sugar baby," you said.
"And how is the life of a sugar baby, regarding sex? Everything good there?"
You didn’t answer
"It is a life of many luxuries," she said. "We travel a lot."
Your sex life was perfect, it was incredible and you loved any and every moment of it.
“I didn’t ask about that...is it really that bad?”
“No, it’s amazing?”
“So what’s the problem?”
“If it’s that good then I'm scared it’ll end terribly.”
You remember being out and making plans to meet up with Sam, you wanted him so bad. Without wasting much time, you entered a room in the abandoned building. There, you went to your usual position, standing with your hands on a wall, your legs open. Sam did the rest. He pulled the leggings down to your knees and inserted his well-endowed cock up to his balls.
"Ohhhh shit," You moaned.
"Did you miss that cock? Such a little cock whore, you were so needy, you couldn’t even wait until we got home."
You didn’t answer, you felt the rigor of getting fucked. His cock deep in your pussy, causing pain but mixing with pleasure.
"Fuck, your pussy feels so good and wet.."
"Go slow, slow in me."
"My love, what, you forgot what a good cock feels like?"
You bent your back more and this time you felt his cock deeper. His balls crash between your ass, in a frenzy of extreme pleasure, giving you several mini orgasms.
Suddenly there was a noise in the building. He slid out his cock and took you by the neck with his hands.
"What have you done, did you call your boyfriend?"
Sam helped you pull up your yoga pants and you, still shocked by the fuck, composed yourself as much as you could.
"I don't know what you are talking about."
"Oh yeah? Well, I don't want to risk it. I know that your boyfriend is crazy as fuck."
"You're being paranoid," You arranged your yoga pants at your hip and fixed your hair.
You could barely walk from the fuck as you left the building. After a block or so, you saw something that scared you, your boyfriend waiting for you in the car.
You got in and kept quiet.
"What were you doing in that damn abandoned building?" He asked, driving away, his face reddish.
"Oh nothing. Just looking around, I was curious."
"Sure about that?"
"Of course, baby, why are you asking me these things? You are acting weird lately, asking me questions."
He drove the car silently through a quiet neighborhood. You could still feel Sam's cock throbbing on the lips of your vagina. Although it had been a short fuck session, he had worked you hard, as always, and the feelings of pleasure still invaded you, leaving you wanting more.
"Tell me something," He said suddenly, "are you in trouble of any kind? Are you doing drugs?"
"What the actual fuck? Of course not. Why would you even ask that."
"So, what the hell were you doing in that damn building?"
"I have an idea, why don't we go for the pizza you like, and watch a movie? What do you say?"
After picking up the pizza, he drove by the bar where you worked. You remembered the nights you had slept with one or another client. Not too many, just enough for you to feel good. The tips had also been good. You saved money and bought a nice car. But you didn’t have to worry about that anymore. You had already freed herself from that stage of your life. It was in the past. Now you had a man who not only proved he trusted you but was always there for anything you needed.
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Could you do a Bucky/Reader fic for 16 on the smut prompts?
The intimacy of shaving
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader
Bucky Bingo Square: New haircut square
Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Sarah Wilson
Setting: three months after the end of Falcon and the Winter Soldier
Rating: M (Mature), E (explicit), NSFW, +18 only please
Warnings: fluff, angst, bickering, smut, oral female receiving, yearning, pining, unrequited love, smutty dreams, broken bones, mention of torture, Bucky’s old memories,
Word count: 10,800
Summary: Frustrated with being left behind, worry taking hold after finding out just a fraction of how bad your boys are. Making you start to search your feeling's for both men. Especially with the intimacy of giving Bucky a hair cut and shave. Unexpected emotions surface on all parts.
Notes: Sequel too “My own worse enemy," filling in a bingo square for #buckybingo and also an Anon request asking for smut prompt #16 “I’m going to die if you don’t let me cum.” Hope you don't mind me adding Sam into the mix sweetie. Also for my head cannon Sam uses Delacroix LA for his base of operation. Wanting to help take care of his family while taking on the mantle of Captain America. Hope you enjoyed doll.
Tag list’s: Are open
Forever’s: @jedi-mando @chickensarentcheap
Bucky Barnes list: @learisa @eclipses-and-moondust
Story list: @sammyissassy @feelmyroarrrr
Wearing a path from the kitchen to living room ignoring Sarah’s stare, thumb nail damn near nibbled to the bed with how much your chewing the poor abused finger. Cell phone pressed to your ear, listening to Sams deep baritone, “What’d ya mean three places Samuel? How the f-ing hell did you both managed to get so banged up?”
“Explanations will roll out once we touch down Y/N for now know at least he didn’t break his funny bone that’s still none existence,” glancing towards Bucky stretched out over the metal helo bench. Right arm in a sling snug to his body, thick plaster cast covering from mid bicep to mid palm, fingers still visible.
“I heard that and I do to have a sense of humor just not your brand of stupid jokes bird brain,” deep voice unmistakably Bucky’s catching a wobble in the cadence not there when last they spoke.
Swiping a hand over your face wanting to kill them both for leaving you behind. Plans to do just that forming in your mind while snarking, “Remind me again why exactly you chose to leave me behind?”
Staying home you could’ve possibly worked with, the unknown danced on your nerves more than you’d give credit to. Having grown even closer to both men over the last six months, always brushing those pesky feelings and thoughts away that surface during weak moments of worry or sleep.
“To dangerous and I’m not arguing with you on those semantics it’s bad enough cyborg got the shit beaten out of him,” quickly pulling the phone from his ear at the high pitched sound from down the line. Forgetting a moment your attachment to both men, “You finished?”
Low growl in answer, biting off the curses you wish to fling at both Captain America and the Winter Soldier. “Don’t worry you’re in for it once you get home. ETA?” Checking the watch strapped to your left wrist, “I’ll come pick y’all up, gotta stop in town for supplies anyway.”
“No worries my trucks at base I’ll get Buck and myself home.” Glancing at his watch, “Landing in about two hours, think you can grab a couple of Miss Bridgette’s pecan pies?”
Too many years working with that man not to know what he likes, “For the shit you and Barnes pulled get your own pie man.” Soft chuckles lets you know Sarah heard you. Eyes locking with her’s for a moment seeing the worry in those warm browns matching as you knew in your own. “Just bring you asses home so Sarah and I can roast them.”
Almost feeling the deep groan from over the phone line, “What did you tell her?”
“Nothing since that’s what I got,” shaking head tips to the side picking up on Sam’s easy breathing and the helo’s engines in the back ground. “Just get home dumbass,” affection in your tone. Ending the call, slipping the cell into your front pocket to flop down into the worn out but still comfortable couch.
“They get hurt?” Anxiety tainting her voice from across the room.
Peeking through your fingers at her, dropping them to your thighs to run the length of denim covered skin, “Don’t know really, Sam sounds fine but a concussion or another type of head injury wouldn’t show it’s self right away. From what I did gather they finished up the mission a little over four hours ago, in flight for the last two.”
“What about Bucky?” Meeting your eyes having confided in her years ago about the crush harbored for a certain metal armed ex-assassin turned Cap’s left hand man. Always leaving out the other part of your secret crush. “Speaking of which you ever gonna tell them how you feel?”
“Busting chops about that again Sarah?” Exasperated sigh marches passed barely parted lips, “Something’s broke in three places that’s all Sam ‘Stubborn ass’ Wilson would say. Just not which one of them or what body part exactly.” Firmly ignoring her last question and not picking up on the fact she said them instead of him. To stand hands to hips, leaning back to stretch and possibly pop your spine. “I’m going to town you wanna come or need anything.”
“And you call Sam stubborn,” head shaking with a fond smile tipping her lips upward. Picking up the subtle shift in your demeanor as relief floods your system with knowing they're coming home at least safe. Having guessed your feelings for her older brother not long ago however, keeping that little tidbit to herself. “I’ll come with, give you company and grief along the way. The boy’s won’t come home till later anyway.”
Eyes roll you reach for the car keys on the coffee table, patting your back pocket to check for wallet and the front for cell phone. “Ready to roll?”
Hour and a half later arms loaded with grocery bags, making sure to hide Miss Bridgette’s pie’s from Sam, you and Sarah set to work putting everything away. Setting to work fixing dinner efficiently dancing around each other like a well oiled machine working together in tandem getting each task done. Back door quietly trying to open, Sam poking his head around the well loved oak wood door. Showing a face littered with cuts, a busted bottom lip and dark shadow of a black eye around his left. But his smile still widens flashing pearly whites at seeing the two of you. Entering, Sam places a large locking suit case and round leather carry case not far from the door.
Soft gasp leave’s Sarah’s lips, quickly moving towards her brother to look him over, “You were ugly before now it’s just worse bro.”
Snort existed through his nose, stepping fully into the house with a limp on his right side, accepting the hug she gives him carefully. “You should see the other guy.”
“I’m the other guy,” voice slightly strained but still light almost playful unlike the Bucky of months ago. Though seeing him coming around Sam, arm cradled close in a black cloth sling. Peeks of plaster noticeable making you groan, head shaking at the very sight of him. Assortment of bruises littered his face, his own busted lip, and a three inch cut circling just above his collarbone. Seeing the storm brewing in your eyes, “No we didn’t fight and Sam didn’t cause these wonderful souvenirs.”
“Stupid ass got captured, wouldn’t listen to my plan…”
“You didn’t have a plan Sam not a logistical one…”
“Oh, so you bulldozing in like a raging bull in a China shop worked so well. Who got capture?” Pressing a finger behind his ear to lift the shell listening for Bucky’s answer. “I’m sorry I can’t hear you. You’re gonna say you right Robo soldier cause that’s the correct answer.”
Exasperated with them both, “Shut it and sit down dinner’s ready. I swear the two of you fight worse than Cass and AJ.” Authority ringing through Sarah’s tone cutting eyes at both men.
“Oh sweetheart Cass and AJ have nothing on these two bone heads, more maturity in their little bodies than both of them put together.” Rubbing your temples trying to fend off the building migraine behind your eyes. “Listening to constant bickering I wanna put them in a ‘Get along shirt.'”
Scowl in place while giving them a full once over. Cataloguing the damage you could see and wondering about that which you couldn’t. Noticing the length of Bucky’s hair almost a shaggy just falling a little over his ears and brushing the collar of the black t-shirt he’s wearing. Full beard dusting his cheeks and chin reminding you of those days long gone back in Wakanda. In contrast to Sam’s neatly kept mustache and goatee, close cropped haircut smartly framing his handsome face. Looking much like the day he and Bucky left three months ago on their reconnaissance mission. Knowing better as looks deceive and clothes cover up places eyes can’t see without stripping them naked. The very thought peeking interest but pushing those thoughts back with a frown. Of course it doesn’t stop you from wanting to hug them both mindful of injures unseen that brings a scowl to your features.
“You wouldn’t?” Traces of fear slicing through those deep russet browns. “I thought you loved me Y/N?”
Speaking over Sam, “What’s a ‘Get along’ shirt?”
Caught between wanting to roll her eyes and chuckle, “It’s a big shirt we’d put the two of you in till ya stop bickering like children and actually get along.” Dishing up dinner, Sarah looks towards both men. Trying hard not to burst out laughing at the sour look on Sam’s face nor the still slightly confused one on Bucky’s.
“I see smoke coming from his ears,” snarky quip receiving a back handing smack to his arm.
Bowel’s placed at the table, “Aim for the head next time Sar.” Taking the seat on Sam’s right offering him a cheekily smile, “Might actually knock the few brain cells he has left around and jump start the hamster running the wheel.”
“You both wound me,” clutching his chest dramatically. “With friends and family like this who can you trust.”
“Dramatic’s must come with handling the shield,” cerulean eyes rolling edged with teasing tone. Glancing towards Sam first then you beside him, going to explain for Sarah’s benefit. “Steve could put on some high melodrama back in the day. Much like Samuel here.” Scratching at his chin with vibranium fingers, a low hiss only you catch sounds when the plates catch the little hairs.
Scoffing, “Only Sarah calls me that first off, second look who’s talking Mr. Bionic Staring machine scaring off everyone who comes within two feet. Dramatics run through your veins just as well. ”
“Children,” both women exclaim hands coming down to slam the table at the same. Before time digging into dinner as the back door opens with Cass and AJ storming inside with excited chatter upon seeing both Sam and Bucky.
Each asking about what happened, how’d the mission go and why exactly Bucky’s sporting a sling and cast. All questions peeking the interested of both women with brows raised and narrowed eyes.
“Settle in first and eat dinner,” Sam intones wanting to keep most of what happened from his family. “For the most part the mission went successful.”
Very unladylike snort leaves your nose hidden behind a glass of sweet tea you sip from, “At least you came back in one piece or three in someone’s case.” Eyes narrow even farther on Bucky who has the good graces to look sheepish and divert his eyes.
“But the super serum why didn’t it help like that,” AJ snapped his little fingers for emphasis on the quickness the serum should work or so he thinks.
“Doesn’t quiet work that way AJ,” Bucky starts running a hand through his longer than usual hair. Giving a short frustrated tug before returning to the topic at hand. “Yeah the serum helps speed up the healing process it’s not instantaneous and,” pausing to side eye you not wanting to admit there’s more injures than just his arm.
Scowl returning having a feeling you know why he’s paused in explaining, “Takes longer to heal when multiple injures are involved.”
Dinner finishes with other questions, skirting the full truth about the mission, discussing the coming week with work and school. Sam’s boyish smile appears when Sarah brings out the pie, cutting out slices to pass around with Reddi-whip, coffee for the adults, milk for the kids. Silence settles for a moment the enjoyment of pie more important to savor and only once done do you raise to start cleaning up.
“I’ll,” shooting Sarah a look with a shake of your head.
“You got paperwork to catch up on babe I’ve got this, besides Sam volunteered to help. Didn’t you Sam?” Shooting a look his way, clearly speaking volumes if the answer comes back no.
Brow arched in question but thought better then to ask, though he flips the script on you, “Of course, Bucky volunteer’s.” Quickly moving away from the hand threatening to land a hard punch to his right thigh. Almost toppling to the floor in his hast to move Sam tweaked his hip a twinge of pain slicing through his features.
“Serves you right Wilson,” thought a slice of regret skates across your thoughts. Head shaking you stand gathering plates as the boys excuse themselves to play video games.
“Homework first or I’m taking those games away,” Sarah yells after them looking in your direction for a second. “You got these two?” Pointing at each of them in turn with her own frown dropping her lips downward.
“Sadly yes,” exasperation clearly written in the rigidness of you stance and narrowing to slits of your eyes. “Blissfully unaware or want to know everything?”
“Unaware I’m just happy their back whole,” nodding Sarah takes her leave, heading for the home office.
Times flown, six months in fact since Karli’s death and Sam taking over the mantle of Captain America. Going above and beyond to change how the worlds become and see’s the shield. Using Delacroix as home base to keep himself grounded and around for his family. Surprisingly enough including you and Bucky the house feels a touch over crowded but wouldn’t want things any different.
“Care to explain what that means?” Limping with hands full towards the sink, Sam places his arm load down watching you move around the kitchen. Putting leftovers up, setting to work on the dishes, the familiarity you exude warms a place in Sam’s heart. Always pushing those thoughts from his mind, your his best friend and wouldn’t see him in any other way. Especially with your heart firmly filled with Bucky.
Giving your back to both men and only acknowledging their presence when Bucky comes over with a bowel. “Thanks,” leaves your lips with a nod.
“We’re sorry for leaving you behind Y/N, but Sam and I agreed things were to dangerous neither of us wanted you to get hurt,” trying to reason Bucky leans his back against the counter beside you. Tugging once again at his too long hair that gets slightly tangled in the plates of his fingers.
“You actually agreed on something?” Catching his actions, your head shakes grabbing for the towel to dry soapy hands and help with his dilemma. “Instead you both come back looking like train wreck’s all beaten, broken and bruised. With a busted arm,” finished with untangling his fingers to point at his arm. Whirling around to assess Sam who’s trying not to put weight on his right leg, “Banged up hip and God know what else internally. Neither one of you are spring chickens for heaven’s sake.”
“Don’t know what your talking about Y/N? I’m not a day over twenty-five,” taking an aim to make you smile and ease the tension in your shoulders. Frown appearing when your countenance doesn’t change but deepens, “Talk to the resident Centurion who got his ass captured and tortured for over a week.”
Low growl leaves your lips pursed together in a grim line, “Do either of you think about the consequences of your actions? Of what’ll happen without either of you in this God forsaking world?” Tossing your hands up and turning back to dish washing, something to keep from chocking the life outta the two of them, or spilling your inner most thoughts. Afraid to loose either man the very thought making your heart clinch painfully in your chest, breathing picking up as tears gloss over your eyes. Plates clang loudly, forcefully slamming them into the drying rack making both men wince at your actions.
“Y/N,” coming up behind you large warm hands carefully rest on tense shoulders. Aware of your feelings for a certain cyborg the thought a little bitter to take but Sam resigns himself to the role of best friend. “We’re sorry really,” taking a breath and clearing his throat wanting to make amends and explain. “We thought, planned, things just…”
“Went to shit around us, it’s not like Sam or I wanted to get the crap beating out of us doll it just,” shrugging vibranium hand coming to rest on your shoulder beside Sam’s. “Got complicated.”
Taking a deep breath drawing in the scents of Sam’s citrus and cider wood cologne you couldn’t put your finger on naming, mixing with Bucky’s old world sandalwood base cologne of 4711. Eyes close for a moment blinking back the tears, and to gather thoughts, righting them in an order that makes sense. Trying to keep out the feelings currently jumbling up your brain. “I know,” body sags back against Sam’s strong chest while unconsciously leaning towards Bucky’s hand. “Neither of you will do that shit again. Do I make myself clear?”
“Not if things go dark side like this time, we’re not putting you in harms way,” feeling you stiffen Sam steps back, Bucky’s hand drops back to his side when you whirl on the man behind you. Stance ridge and firm, Sam crosses his arms adding his own glare and not backing down. “My decision is final on the matter and no amount of arguing will change that.”
Understanding Sam’s position, however the thought of staying behind, waiting to find out if… no you push those thoughts aside. “Mine, that’s who makes the choice not either of you,” heat of annoyance flaring to life as you look between the two men. “Knowing what I signed up for, choose to stick around and help put this broken blue marble we call home back together. I won’t sit out the next mission we clear on that?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, barely audible hiss leaves Bucky’s lips at having hair yanked out by the roots. Though his voice is steady when asking, “Why did you stick around? Thought once Walker handed over the shield, the Flag smashers agenda crashed and burned you’d skip out on the next train back to normal.” Not that he minded of course, in fact Bucky rather enjoyed your company, reminded him of those first months out of cryo getting to know each other. Plus his questions distracted you from getting an answer that won’t satisfy.
“I have my reasons,” giving a half hearted shrug you turn back to finishing up the dishes not really wanting to explain. Not fully sure yourself why you’ve stuck around though deep down you know it has to do with both men. “Reasons neither of you need to know.”
Sharing a look with Bucky, “Don’t pull that shit with us sweetheart you demand answers now we ask the same in return.”
Sure they still argued like an old married couple but a begrudging understanding has built between the pair, coming to an almost friendship neither would fully admit to. Both wanting to protect the small family friend’s circle patched together like grandma’s old quilt. Tattered, frayed and a few wholes but well loved and always cared for. Eyes landing back on you to watch the forward slump of your shoulders rounded inward along with your chin dropped to your chest.
“I have the two of you house broken,” idea forming to steer the conversation away. “Don’t need that headache on repeat and I wouldn’t leave the two of you bone heads alone to kill each other or drive poor Sarah crazy,” quicker than either can react you’ve scooped up hand fulls of soap bubbles to smash into both their faces. Deflecting the conversation away from having to answer and lightening the mood. Or so you hoped with the playfully murderous looks both men shoot you. Skirting Sam’s grabby hands heading to put the kitchen table between yourself, Captain America and the Winter Soldier. “Now boys that’s just all in good fun and your both hurt so I suggest you think about your actions before retaliating.”
Wiping the remains of soapy bubbles from his face, thick fingers making wet tracks over denim to dry hands. Sam edges a little closer intent on trying to snag your arm. That ghosts through his fingers, “For now but remember paybacks a bitch sweetheart.” Bright smile tugs his full lips, head shaking though he knows there’s so much more your hiding from both he and Bucky. One day he’ll crack that secret you hold so dear, for now Sam lets you cling tightly.
Watching him go you turn towards Bucky who’s smirk sets you back a moment. “I don’t think I like that look Barnes,” arms crossed mustering a half glare. “Sam’s right you really can see the smoke rising from your head.”
“Hahaha that jokes getting old,” light hearted quip falling from his lips, eyes raking your form as you near the sink. Catching you looking between finishing the dishes and making sure Bucky’s not going to retaliate. “I come in peace promise besides I’m too old for revenge I’ll leave it to you young whipper snappers,” throwing his voice to sound like an old man.
Laughter rings full and deep from your parted lips, soapy hands gripping the sink to keep from toppling over in mirth. His own chuckle exists on a grin, cerulean eyes taking in how carefree you look. Tension and worry melted away with his well played grandpa joke. Making Bucky wish he got to see you like this more often but then he remembered why he never searched. Why he left you alone and only within the last ten or so months managed to reconnect the missing dots in his life. Sure there’s still blood on his hands he tries to scrub clean with each mission, to make those amends and not just avenge. But truly help people in ways that didn’t require lead or blood.
Still wondering, so he gives voice to those thoughts, “Why didn’t you go back to your life doll?” Feeling he’s perpetuated a grave error in asking the question but a part of him wants. No needed the answer to know why you’d give up a happy life for one of danger and uncertainty with him and Sam.
Sobering, his question hitting you like a ton of cement bricks keeping you from turning to face him. Wincing when another hiss echos around inside your head from your right side. “Tell you what Buck you let me cut that hair and beard of yours I’ll answer your questions.”
“I get you don’t… wait… what?” Not sure he’d heard you right. Pain making a return to fog his brain for the moment as throbbing radiates across his broken clavicle to the dislocated shoulder, dancing along the fractured radius and painfully tingling his fingers. Soft curse exists his lips reminding himself to take Sam’s suggestions next time though he wouldn’t let the other man know. “Don’t happen to have any pain meds do ya doll?”
Eyes narrow, “Which parts did they break?” Holding up a hand to stop him from answering while you head towards your room. Grabbing up the small med kit Sharon gave you months back for times like these. Pausing to scoop up the hair scissors and trimer, along with a shaver and cream, both of which belonging to Sam. “Now you were saying?”
Placing everything on the table, unzipping the medium size unassuming black bag pulling out a small bottle to pop the top and wiggle out two pills. Handing those over to Bucky who just stares at them resting in his metal palm.
“Trying to kill me doll?” Teasing tone to the cadence of his words while popping them into his mouth and excepting the glass of water. Downing in one go and handing it back, “Never did like pills reminds me of Steve.”
Resting a gentle hand on his bad shoulder, “If I tried to kill ya Buck you’d see it coming,” snickering at the wide eyed look he gives you. Sobering with understanding filled eyes that stay locked with his, “I’m sorry it”s not my intentions to bring up the past.” Moving to put the glass down, you stay at the sink looking out over the backyard, orange and reds dancing over the rippling surface of the bayou. Sinking sun creating a cornucopia of color heralding the on coming twilight and the end of another day.
“You didn’t Y/N,” coming to stand next to you watching the golden ball of life giving light slowly sink into the horizon. On the tip of his tongue to speak about Steve, the abandonment he felt acutely with the absence of his best friend. Slowly filled by your present, that of Sam’s and his family. “I guess ‘Till the end of the line’ meant just till he could get back to who he really missed.” Anguish heard loudly through soft spoken words not meant for your ears but once uttered there’s no going back.
Out of your peripheral vision you study Bucky for a moment heart breaking for the man who’s lost so much to then fully face him. His own gaze staying straight ahead staring unseen out the window with tan lace curtains framing the coming twilight. Over head light casting shadows in the hallows and angles of his features, bringing out the bruises highlighting the cuts, making your heart ache for this man in ways you’ve tried to push aside. Ways you didn’t want it to feel in case of rejection but couldn’t help the tightening in your chest nor the want to embrace and hold Bucky close.
“Come on,” without thinking your hand slips into his vibranium palm tugging till he follows and only dropping to scoop up trimmer, combs and scissors before heading out the back door.
For a moment Bucky stood there thankful to Shuri for the ability to feel warmth and the weight of your hand in his vibranium limb. The very thoughts your simple gesture conjures damns his heart making it beat triple time. When your head pops back around the door sweet smile crossing those kissable lips. Bucky has to remind himself you’re off limits friends nothing more and to breath. Your beauty stealing the air from his lungs, making it hard to focus on anything except your present.
Catching the out of focus look in his cerulean eyes mind swirling with questions as to what he’s thinking about. “You gonna stand there taking root or get your silly ass out here,” motioning with a jerk of your head over your shoulder smile still firmly in place. Making sure he’s actually moving before existing to place a stool about middle of the back porch. Patting the hardwood barstool then reaching up to tug on the pull string as light floods the area casting a bright glow.
Transfixed for a moment in the doorway with the peek of skin allowed to his eyes. Your heather grey band shirt riding up teasingly tormenting him. Cursing internally, tongue trapped between indenting teeth to keep the sounds at bay. Till the hard slap of your palm against wooden seat draws his attentions and he robotically takes the seat. Stiffening with the fluttering of a barber’s cape hating to have things around his neck. Only to settle once you have it in place and buttoned reminding him your not there to hurt or torture him. Fingers brushing lightly over the exposed skin of his neck, creating goosebumps to dance across his flesh.
“Not too tight?” Gently running nimble fingers through his hair, blunt nails scratching the scalp. Finding it hard to keep from rubbing into your hands and fighting the urge to purr with each pass. You work the larger knots out carefully, pulling a comb from the back pocket of your jeans to run through his hair. “You with me Buck?”
“Hmm?” Simple noise issues from the back of his throat lost in the tingling sensations your fingers bloom across his body. Wanting to chase the feeling bringing peace to his mind much like the soft cadence your voice takes on with the intimacy surrounding the two of you. Sweet chuckle music to his ears and snaps him back to now, noticing you’ve paused your hands waiting for a response, “Sorry no I’m good.”
“Enjoying yourself Barnes?” Teasingly quipped while adjusting the cape to cover his back. Making sure all his hair lays over the edges and carefully combing out the smaller knots your fingers missed. Secretly enjoying the soft chestnut strands as they curl around your fingers. Massaging his scalp hoping to relax his tense posture when a particularly stubborn knot has you accidentally giving a not so gentle tug. Garnering a low moan from the man in front of you. “Sorry Buck,” working the knot out with a little more care taking the sound as one of pain.
Throat clearing, thankful his crotch is currently covered to not give away the secret he’s concealing. Praying to all the heavens you’ve taken the moan as one of pain instead of pleasure that’s surfing through his veins with a simple hair pull. “Yes, and it’s fine,” words pushed passed lips held taunt to keep from letting any sound out. Searching his mind for a topic to settle on, willing his body to stop reacting to the warmth of yours.
Each brush of fingers sends heat flaring to life along his nerves. Knowing the pain killers don’t worked through his system that quickly. Yet, the throbbing ache once present has diluted to a low annoying thump with the heat of your hands on his cotton covered shoulder. Wanting to lean back into your body but holds himself ridge from doing something stupid like enjoying the moment. Therefore clears his throat, “You’ve got me at your mercy doll ready to answer my questions?”
“Should I worry what you’ll ask?” Moving from behind him to head back into the kitchen. Grabbing the empty spray bottle to fill with warm water and head back out.
Eyes close with the first spritz of water, chin dropping to chest as you work to wet his hair. “Why?”
“Why what?” Knowing what he’s asking, your distracted for a moment putting the spray bottle’s trigger through a belt loop incase its needed once your satisfied with the wetness of his hair. “I’ll need more specifics than just why. Why’s the sky blue? Why’s it so damn hot? So many why questions you gotta stop wasting your breath Buck.”
“Cheeky doll very cheeky you know damn well what I mean,” keeping his head still to prevent you from severing an ear.
Smirking, setting to work on trimming up the top back portion of his head, trying to keep from childishly making faces. “Sure don’t Sarge.”
Groan slipping passed before he’s able to trap and swallow the sound at the off handed use of his military rank. Wondering which deity had it out for his ass today. Cursing the fact he’s let you so close to breath in the flowery scent of your body. Gentle use of those skilled fingers through his hair not making things any better for the growing problem tenting his jeans. Returning to himself when you move to his left shortening the hair over his ear. “Why’d you stay with us? I thought,” remembering those painful words back in Madripoor. “I thought you had a happy life to go back to.”
“Ear hustling Barnes?” Switching sides and glancing down with a raised brow you know he doesn’t see.
Looking up to try and catch your eye your focus on cutting his hair makes the attempt impossible. So he settles on, “Don’t know what you mean doll. Just asking a question,” trying to hold the shiver at bay when your fingers brush over the shell of his ear.
“Since your asking it means you didn’t hear everything Sam and I talked about,” thankful that’s the case or things would get a whole lot complicated. “I lied.”
Head whipping to the side so quickly you fear he’s damaged his neck with the wince taking over his handsome features. “Lied why?”
“Reasons,” ‘Ones I won’t tell you James,’ speaking the last words in your mind, careful probing fingers check for anything popped out. Garnering a hiss of pain when you’ve found the break in his clavicle. “What did you break besides the hamster running your wheel brain?”
Bitting off the curse as pain flared over his right side. Gritting out, “Clavicle, dislocated shoulder, fractured radius, you can see the cuts and bruises so take it a little easy on this old man.”
“How… Why did you get captured?” Worry fights fear both dance with anger marching through your veins as a Thanksgiving Day parade band would down the streets of New York City. The very thought of both your men hurt and so far away from home torn a hole in your heart. Thoughts you try to push away and focus on the job of cutting Bucky’s hair.
Finishing up what you could on the back of his head, Bucky feels you come around to the front. Knees spread to accommodate your body, closing his eyes to keep from staring at your breasts. Licking suddenly dry lips with having you extra close, he tries to gather an answer to your question. “We needed an in so I made a decision.”
“One I’m sure Sam disagreed on,” carding your fingers through the top, snipping pieces checking length. Jealous over how soft his hair feels between your digits. Woodsy pine scent reaching your nose that twitches in pleasure at the fragrance matching what you always thought he’d smell like.
“Yeah well we ran out of time doll. Couldn’t let what remains of LAF get away,” eyes quickly open only to slam shut again with having you still too near for his own good.
Every brush of your fingers, thighs brushing against his with every move, your flowery scent wrapping around his heart to squeeze tight. Breath punched from his lungs when your knee makes slight contact with his erection. Shooting pleasurable fireworks off behind his closed lids. Wishing for your hands on his body, wondering what they’d feel like over bare skin. If you’d shy away from the scars littering his flesh or… he wouldn’t, didn’t need to think about the alternative.
Unsure why he gasped you move from between his legs and look upon his face confused as to his ridge posture eyes held tightly closed. Insecurities rushing through your mind, setting up shop to remind you no man let alone someone as handsome as Bucky would ever want to look at you. Shoving back those thoughts to ask, “You okay Bucky?”
“Fucking fabulous doll,” bitting out the words while trying to reign in the need to grab hold of your hips, bringing you back against him. Wanting to find out if you’d fit as good or better than what he’s imagined during those dream filled nights he doesn’t talk about with anyone. “Finished?” Praying you’ll say yes, the temptation becoming almost unbearable.
Unconvinced by his words but pushes that aside and stepping farther back to round him, grabbing up the trimmer on the way with a numbered comb. “Almost but then I still have your beard to do.”
“Fuck,” low gravely voice intones the single word hoping you’ve not heard and cursing the heaven for this test of his will and desires. In another life Bucky wouldn’t have hesitated to ask you out, wine and dine with dancing till midnight. Taking you home with a simple kiss of promise with more to come. But he’s different now and you don’t deserve to have a broken man on your hands.
Swallowing harshly to cover your growing need to escape and bury yourself in another program or book to distract from those awful thoughts running around in your mind. Replaying all the brush offs and look aways as rejection shattering your heart. Pushing you to finish his new hair cut that much quicker. “Done, now how short you want your beard?”
“Gone,” knowing exactly what he’s saying and damning himself to the torture of a different kind.
Coming back in front of him, you slip between his parted knees so easily a thought you try to push away while switching the trimmer combs and flicking the on button. Carefully cupping his left cheek while shortening the right for a closer shave once your done. “Surely you didn’t just let them capture you.” Returning to a safer subject other than how good his bearded jaw felt in your warm palm. Wondering how it’d feel in other places.
“Offered myself up for a little bloody torture and a few broken bones. I’m here to tell the tale instead of those guys Y/N. They're off the streets and we have the information needed to finish taking down LAF.” Teeth gritting to keep from rubbing his jaw into your palm, from turning to kiss the center and devour you with his mouth.
Pausing a moment, “But you could’ve gotten killed James.” Sorrow coloring the cadence of your tone, eyes filled with fear at what could’ve happened. “You should’ve called me, I could’ve helped.”
Heart stopping, never had you spoken his first name, always Bucky or Buck, Barnes when your angry but never James. Opening his darken cerulean orbs breath trapped somewhere between lungs and mouth at the sorrow written deep in those eyes he never could not stare into. Heart hammering back to life with the subtle brushing of your fingers over his cheek, “Would it have matter?”
Confusion tips your head to the side, “What you dying or me helping?”
“Dying,” single word dropped like a bomb destroying everything in the path.
“James,” softly spoken with so much emotion held within the countenance of your features. Watching the ghosts float through those beautiful cerulean eyes, memories of a time he couldn’t control, of deeds done to people who didn’t deserve the pain and death he dealt out as the Fist of Hydra. Tears gloss over your eyes once again trying to blink them away to keep them from clogging your emotions filled throat. “It matter’s Barnes, matters to a lot of people you’re just too stubborn to realize that.” Shaking your head to clear the fog and get back to work.
Speechless Bucky just sits there letting you finish up trimmer the hair away as if trying to erase the past months, the torture he let happen with no regard to his personal well being. During this time your words chase around his mind, combined with Sam’s out right demand of him to never put himself in harms way like that again. Adding more questions added than any true answers. Delicate fingers brush over trimmed facial hair bringing him back to the present right as you move to take the barber’s cape from around his neck. Missing the warmth of your touch, heat radiating from your body, your scent filling his nose and making him drunk on you.
Folding the cape to drape over your arm, “I’ll shave you as well come back inside.” Voice slightly rough with unshed tears avoiding looking directly at Bucky and missing the longing written in the ocean pools. Mistaking his lack of response for rejection of your words and feelings. You enter the house placing the small hand load down and moving a chair over towards the sink. Returning to grab up the shaving cream and razor, pulling a fresh wash cloth from the draw by the sink too wet it hot.
“You don’t have to,” entering and closing the back door with the heel of his boot. Bucky leans against the counter watching you with a closed expression. Pain dull but still worming its way through his veins along with so many thoughts.
Glancing his way, “I know,” motioning with a wave of your hand, “but if I don’t that beard’ll come back in short order and we’ll have to do this all over again.” Going for playful to ease the tension built from the lingering words of out on the porch, “Bring your ass over here Buck.”
Your change in mood has a confused frown pulling his mouth down but complies with the order. Taking up the seat with spread legs and turned up face watching you wring out the wash cloth. Using your elbow and tipping his head back to gently place the hot cloth around what’s left of his beard to soften the hair and wake up the pores. Catching the small muffled groan, “To hot?”
“No, perfect,” faintly hearing the two simple words you grab up the shaving cream to put a generous amount in your palm before pulling the quickly cooling cloth from his face. Tossing it towards the sink and applying a layer of cream to his skin. Left overs rinsed from your hands quickly before drying and grasping the razor with steady hands. “Just a little off the top if you please,” boyish smirk slips over his lips tipping cream covered cheeks up while trying to be funny.
Eyes rolling, “To late for that one top’s already taken care of.” Using the pad of your thumb to push the skin of his cheek taunt. Carefully dragging the razor over his flesh intending to keep your gaze directed towards working the blade over his check. However, you’re unable to do so while cleaning the razor as your eyes dart up catching the fact Bucky’s gaze firmly rests on your face. Heat blooming across your body, eyes drop back to his cheek intent on getting finished quickly to avoid any farther embarrassment.
Meanwhile Bucky maps every feature of your face, the slant of your nose, set of your eyes, cupids bow of your top lip. Visions of drawing the plump flesh in for a bite and pull before letting go with a wet pop, filter through his mind. Finding himself in a rather precarious predicament, thighs spread to accommodate your body, his palms itch to grasp and tug you into his lap. Bitting back a moan each touch brings, the gentleness tearing a new hole in armored covered heart. Wanting to keep you out but finding it harder to do every time you show the kindness his life lacked for decades.
Minds eye drawing the curves of your cheeks, lips twitching to caress, fingers tapping trapped in plaster and cloth against his body. Wanting to brush his knuckles over your throat to gently grasp the back of your neck and bring your lips against his for a slow sweet drink of the tempting cavern of your warm mouth. Only snapping back to reality with the soft brush of your fingers along his jawline.
Searching for any hairs left behind, soothingly palming his cheeks with cool hands desperate to taste his skin. Drag your lips over the same spots the razor just graced. Teasing the tip of your tongue along the hard edge of his jaw to place a kiss just below his ear. Tempted to even suck a mark for everyone to see. You swallow harshly removing your hands from his cheeks to rinse and warm up the cloth to clean off any residual shaving cream from his face.
“Finished,” clearing your emotions clogged throat, stepping towards the sink, your profile the only side Bucky sees as you work to clean up the mess.
Feeling rather than hearing him stand heat radiating of his body just a few inches shy of brushing against yours. “Thank you doll,” impulsively leaning forward to brush his lips over your cheek. Lingering longer than he should but unable too stop himself from pressing soft slight chapped lips to the corner of your mouth. “Next time I need shavin’ I know who to come too,” breathing the words before pulling away, taking his leaving quickly to keep from doing something even stupider. Like wrap you up into his arms and actually kissing those pillow soft lips. Backdoor swinging closed a little harder than he meant in his bid to get away from your warmth and tempting body.
Frozen in place, skin tingling from just that slight press while your heart beats almost out of your chest. Pounding against your rib cage so hard fear it’ll crack a rib any second now. White knuckles grip the sinks edge, heat flaring across your body to pool low and throb through your lady parts. Thighs unconsciously rub together needing friction to alleviate the ache growing between your legs.
“Did you cut him or take a hunk of hair out and now he looks like Frankenstein monster?” Teasing tone to his quip, Sam enters the kitchen still staring at the back door. Having watched the exchange from the darkened hallway. Reverting his eyes to your back, taking in the ridge posture of your spine with a slight very subtle shake. “Y/N what’s wrong?” Swiftly coming up behind you, hands gripping your shoulders to turn you around. “Did Bucky say or do something wrong?” Worry creasing his brow the want to hold you close growing with each second your not in his arms.
Looking up into the kind russet eyes flashing with concern and worry, “No,” head shaking, “no he didn’t Sam just…” unable to stop yourself from burying your body against Sam’s firm chest. Trying to figure out how to explain what’s running around in your head. The indecision, thoughts you know shouldn’t roll through your mind doing just that as your arms wind around his trim waist.
“Just what sweetheart?” Wanting to help smooth things over between his two best friends even if it meant swallowing his own feelings.
Keeping your eyes closed, breathing in his cedar wood and citrus scent, burying your nose against his collarbone. Always able to calm the raging storm of emotions boiling through your veins. Confusion setting in with those same tingles you feel when Bucky touches you now dances across your body at the warmth of Sam’s arms cradling you close. Reminding you of earlier when his chest pressed to your back strong hands gently placed on your shoulders. The shiver you suppressed at the touch of both men. At the memory your eyes pop open and you quickly push away from Sam as if he’s burnt you. Needing to escape and figure out what’s going on.
“Nothing, it doesn’t matter, I’m sorry,” feet quickly taking you from the kitchen into the safe arms of your bedroom.
Missing the confused look marring Sam’s face that turns into hurt at the way you’ve shoved him aside. Body sagging against the counter, hand rubbing at the back of his neck searching for what’s changed in such a short period of time.
“Men, blind and just plain foolish,” landing a hard hit to his shoulder, which he rubs to alleviate the pain. Sarah comes up beside her older brother with a raised brow. “Still don’t get it? Searching for exactly why she reacted so strongly? Think Samuel use that big brain you have and actually put it to good use.”
Frown creasing between his eyes and drawing his lips down, “Left behind sucks Sarah that’s all it amounts to. But we… I couldn’t have her along, wouldn’t risk her life like that.”
“Has nothing to do with leaving her home Sam,” giving him a meaningful look that still bewilders him. “Why didn’t you want her along but you took Bucky with you?”
“He’s a super soldier Sar he can take the hits not that I want him hurt either. Shit when he let himself get captured,” moving towards the abandoned chair to plop down heavily. “He scared the living shit outta me, I thought…” hard to swallow the memories of watching those men pulling an unconscious Bucky into a van. Driving off before he could plant a tracker and barely able to get up with bruised ribs making breathing painful. Sam runs a hand over the short hair unsure when things got so complicated between the three of them.
Pulling up a chair in front of Sam, “You’d lost him?” Seeing the nod Sarah’s features softened knowing from the tell’s she picked up watching the three of them for so long. “You love them?”
“What?” Head whipping up so quickly making Sam wince. “Of course I do but not like that I mean their family, you know I’ll do anything to protect my family.”
Hand resting on his shoulder, “You keep telling yourself that big bro maybe one day you’ll actually believe it and able to push those feelings away good enough to keep them at arms length.” Looking up at her, “Just a word of advice,” seeing him nod, “don’t push those emotions away, you deserve that love they both would readily give you.”
Softly closing the door behind you heading towards the ensuite bathroom for a nice cold shower, preforming your nightly routine, and shutting off every light except the one beside your bed. Falling into the soft mattress with your current book keeping you company for the rest of the night. Eyes start to droop, words blur and you read the same sentence half a dozen times. Book falling against your chest as a yawn takes over your features.
Body stretching out against cool sheets jumping when a soft knock echos around your room, eyes darting towards the clock to see its just a little passed mid night. Slowly getting out of bed, pulling the extra long dark blue with little pink flowers dotting the sleep shirt down to cover your ass and thighs. Thinking its Sarah checking on you, eyes shocked wide with the small crack you open the door to spy Bucky standing there fidgeting.
“Everything all right Buck?” Opening the door wider to lean against the casing arms crossed just under your breasts.
Swallowing, glancing from your eyes to lips repeatedly. Trying to form the words he wants to speak when the decision makes itself clear and Bucky surges forward. Gently wrapping vibranium fingers around the back of your neck and bragging you against his strong chest. Slanting his lips against yours, nipping your bottom lip to make you gasp and slipping his eager tongue passed into the warm depths of your mouth. Leading the kiss and praying he’s not wrong.
Rewarded by your arms winding around his neck careful of his injures. Fingers tugging at the now shorten strands thanks to your expect hands. Garnering a low moan from the depths of his chest, one that rambles with a pleased hum as you return the kiss. Tangling your tongues together making nothing soft nor gentle about this melding of mouths. Only breaking apart for both of you to gasp for air.
“No, nothing’s all right doll. I can’t stop thinking about you,” resting your foreheads together sharing common air. Fingers at the base of your skull massaging the tension with surprisingly easy pressure. “I’d done fighting, done pushing you away, I need you Y/N.”
“James?” Lips tingling from a kiss you’ve only dreamt about as confusion marring your tone, eyes blinking a few times to make sure you’ve pushed the sleepy haze from your mind.
Soft groan issues at hearing you whisper just first name, hand slipping down to wrap around your waist and pull your taut to his body. “If…” trying to push the next words past his lips, “if you don’t want…”
“Us, we need to know now sweetheart. We won’t push you into anything you don’t want,” Sam’s voice full of desire and longing cuts across Bucky’s for a moment.
Making you look up from eyes locked with Bucky to stare at Sam trying to process his words, the look in those beautiful russet eyes you can’t pull yours away from. Till Bucky presses a kiss to just below your ear, “We know it’s a lot to take in doll and you can say no…”
“I,” gulping like a fish out of water, heat thumping through your veins at the unspoken promise both sets of eyes show. “I don’t know what to say.”
Stepping forward to push you back a step so Sam can fully enter your bedroom and close the door. He comes behind you sandwiching your body between two walls of muscle and masculine warmth. Pressing a kiss to the opposite cheek, lips brushing over the shell of your ear, “There’s no going back sweetheart you’re ours if you say yes. But if the answer is no I’m not going to lie things will change. Awkward as hell yes especially at first but I,” Bucky clears his throat to which Sam nods, “we would work through that with you. Loosing your friendship can’t happen no matter what.”
Removing yourself from between their warm bodies to collapse at the end of the bed, head in your hands. Mind so confused, a jumbled mix of desire and lust touched with a heavy dose of love that scares the living shit outta you. Feeling the bed dip on either side, removing your hands to glance at both men. Seeing the reassurance in those cerulean and russet orbs you swallow to wet your parched throat. Gaining strength to finally speak, “I don’t want to loose either of you,” looking between both men. Taking each hand within your own, “But this last mission taught me I don’t want to deny my feelings any longer.”
“What feelings doll?” Giving your hand an encouraging squeeze.
Looking into Bucky’s cerulean eyes, “I’m in love with both of you.” Switching to Sam’s russet orbs seeing the blatant want shining only boosts your confidence to lean over. Cupping his jaw and bringing your lips against his. Different from the kiss you shared with Bucky. Who’s bottom lip begs for a nibbling, Sam’s fuller lips press against your own in tender caresses.
Gentler too, a soft slant of his mouth against yours, pressing twice at different angles before tracing over your bottom lip. Gaining entrance on a sigh of need to check in with your tongue before tangling together. Heated palm cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple twice while he artfully pillages your mouth. Drawing out a low moan squeak following when a set of lips slide over the side of your neck nibbling a short path to suck a mark behind your ear. Making you weak and boneless against Sam, who releases your cheek and hand to grip your hips, having you straddle his thighs.
Kiss breaking for air, “I’m to heavy Sam, your hip.”
“You’re prefect baby girl no arguing understand?” Cupping your ass in both hands to roll your hips against the hard bulge of his erection. Teeth gritting at how good you feel in his arms, the damp heat of your core only serving to make him grow harder with each brush against your cloth covered pussy. Sam reclaims your mouth, this kiss much different. Desperate and demanding taking no prisoners this time as he immediately slips his tongue back into your mouth. Pulling a groan from deep within your chest, arms going around his neck to help move your body against his. The delicious friction sending jolts of pleasure radiating out over your body, clit throbbing with a need you’ve never felt before.
Hissing at the cool sensations of Bucky’s vibranium fingers drawing circles across your back. Pushing your sleep shirt off your body arms raising, breaking the kiss to accomplish the task. Looking over your shoulder at the bare chested Barnes, mouth salivating at the sight eager to touch and kiss every inch. Brought back to Sam with the heat of his mouth connecting to your pulse, adding his own mark to your body while his callused fingers dances across your back.
Cursing his rotten luck for not having use of one hand, Bucky steps forward lowering to his knees carefully. Brushing his lips along your spine while cool alloyed fingers sweep around your body between you and Sam to trace a line between your breasts. Head dropping back to Bucky’s shoulder and baring your breasts to Sam’s hungry glaze and Bucky’s questing fingers.
“So beautiful,” words whispered reverently from Sam’s lips against the damp column of your throat. Mouth tasting each inch of your skin he can reach. Till moist heat circles your nipple, wet tip of his tongue coming out to flick the tightly budded peak before sucking harshly. In contrast to the cool patterns Bucky draws, taking the time to tug before pinching just hard enough that your back arches into Sam’s mouth.
Pushing into Bucky at your back a whimper parting your gasping lips. Needing more of both men surrounding you, slick coating your trembling thighs as you clinch around nothing. Dragging a whine of desperation from you soul,“Please,” single word escaping your mouth.
“What doll? What do you want?” Drawing his lips up to your ear, nipping the lobe bringing it between his teeth giving a sharp bite at the same time Sam flicks his tongue over your nipple.
Letting go with a wet pop, smiling at the whine exiting your heaving chest, “I think out girl needs more Buck. Any thoughts on how to please her?” Brow wiggling over your shoulder at Bucky who just smirks.
Fingers sliding down then under the band of your panties to find you soaked and pulsing. Cool metal meeting heated flesh makes you jolt in Sam’s arms. Grinding down into those wonderful fingers and against the thick ridge of Sam’s cock.
“Don’t stop please,” gasping head lolling back, your eyes close as sensations crash through your veins. Tight coil starting to form with just the brush of his fingers.
Maneuvering closer to slip two fingers into your clinching channel. Deep groan vibrating through his chest and into your back, “Fuck Sam she’s tight and so wet for us. I bet she tastes just as good as she feels.” Rocking your hips, fucking his fingers desperate for that high traveling up from the bottom of your spine. Tickling your tummy with jolts of pleasure only to have it diminish when Bucky pulls his fingers out.
Frustrated whine leaving your lips only to choke on air when Bucky offers one of the fingers perviously buried inside your cunt to Sam. Who doesn’t hesitate to wrap his lips around the single digit, groaning at the very taste of your essence. Circling the tip with his tongue, making sure to clear every drop off while keeping eye contact with Bucky. Mimicking with his mouth how he’d suck Bucky’s cock, garnering a growl from deep within his chest. Letting go with a smirk, “Even better Buck and I bet from the source it’s simply heaven.”
“Only way to find out,” answering grin firmly in place he raises from the floor. Helping you stand on shaky legs turning you to face him. Capturing your lips in an open mouth kiss, flicking his tongue against yours, teasing your bottom lip and drawing out another frustrated groan making him chuckle. “Don’t worry doll we promise you won’t go unsatisfied we’re going to take care of your every need.”
“Don’t tease her Buck it’s not fair,” glint of mischief sparking through those russet eyes that only Bucky catches since your still face him. Sam comes up behind to pressing his bare chest against your back, hands resting on your hips, tugging and letting the band of your panties snap back against your skin. “You can still say no.”
Wiggling back against Sam then pressing forward to feel the hard line of Bucky’s erection against your lower tummy. Knowing why he’s asking, seeing the same sentiment mirrored in Bucky’s eyes that warms your heart filling with love for both men. “Now who’s teasing Samuel,” reaching behind you to slide your palm over his ridged cock giving a squeeze at the same time you palm Bucky. “I’m sure my loves,” enjoying the answering growls from both men. Before another word leaves your lips Sam tugs down your panties letting them pool at your feet as Bucky moves you towards the bed.
Swiping the book from the mattress to lay on the nightstand, smile on his lips at finding the well loved copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. Bringing you to sit then lay back against the cool sheets, trailing his vibranium fingers from your cheek down between your breasts. Circling each nipple, giving the right a light pinch that has your back arching and a gasp existing your paired lips. Distracted till Sam gently grips your left ankle, spreading you open to slide between your legs. Pressing kisses alone the inside of your leg towards your thigh. Soft bread tickling your skin making giggles erupt from your mouth.
“I think she likes that Sam,” the comment spoken against your ear. Placing a kiss to your cheek, “Have to remember to let my own beard grow back out.”
Whimpering softly at the thought one hand fisting the sheets as Sam draws his tongue over the crease between thigh and groin. Purposefully avoiding the spot you want him most, “Payback is a bitch boys,” words growled out right as Bucky envelopes your left nipple into the heat of his mouth.
“Teasing half the fun sweetheart have patience,” looking up from between your legs. Stiffen tongue drawing up from your entrance to clit, circling the little throbbing nub and making your back arch, gasping for air.
“Fuck,” single word breathed from deep within your body. Sweat starting to bead across your forehead. Head tossed back into the pillow free hand carding through Bucky’s chestnut hair tugging the strands harshly till he lets your breast go with a wet pop. You guide his mouth up to yours, demandingly taking the kiss over, slipping your tongue into his mouth this time. Swallowing your moans of delight with each thrust of his tongue. Matching the pace Sam sets against your dripping cunt.
Rutting into the mattress to find the prefect friction hoping to ease for a moment the throbbing of his cock. “Stop stealing all those pretty noises Barnes I wanna hear our girl,” reaching up to smack the other mans thigh hard enough to break the two of you apart.
“Sorry not sorry,” giving him a smirk while licking his lips from the heated kiss.
Filing away the fact Bucky knows what means only to have any thought fly from your mind as two thick fingers enter your quivering channel. Slowly thrusting, his mouth suctioned onto your clit, drawing little short patterns making your thighs shake around his head. Slacking off to lazily place kisses over those thighs but still pumping his fingers, crooking them into a come hither motion to brush over that special spongy spot.
Blooming stars behind your tightly closed eyes, “Watch him doll, see how much you loves devouring that pretty cunt.” Voice rough with arousal against your ear, Bucky’s metal fingers dancing over your chest only adding to your heighten state of desire.
At his command you eyes open to lock with Sam’s passion blown blacken eyes. Moaning at the picture he presents you with, panting breath as you keep drawing closer to your orgasm. Only to have Sam back off creating frustrating tension in your body. Gritting out, “I’m going to die if you don’t let me cum.”
Smirk showing in those beloved eyes as he doubles down on your clit. Lips puffy but forming a perfect O too suction and flick his tongue over the engorged nerve bundle. Fingers, third added to stretch you open and picking the pace up as your mouth drops wide in a scream Bucky devours with a deep kiss. To keep from waking the kids or Sarah, his own body on fire with a need to have you both.
Tingles quickly dancing through your veins, breath panting as you break from Bucky’s mouth, one hand gripping the sheets below the other still buried in his hair. Body on fire as you near that perfect orgasm Sam’s intent on giving you.
Denial’s not just a river in Egypt as your eyes pop open at the knock on your door. Reminiscent of what your sluggish brain comes to understand as just a very vivid dream. One that makes your heart drop with the book that’d lay on your chest now face down on the carpeted floor. You stand checking the time of mid night before heading to the door and finding Sarah on the other side with ice cream in hand.
“Figured you might need some cheering up,” letting her in and taking the bowl of your favorite ice cream.
Vivid dream lingering though you don’t share feeling a TMI moment she doesn’t and most likely wouldn’t want to know about her big brother. You steer the topics away from the non existent love life to plans for tomorrow and the coming weekend.
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Sugar Daddy!Sam Wilson Concept: First Meeting
Description - Your first encounter and time alone with Samuel Wilson proves to show you the kind of life you are in for.
Pairing - Black Female Reader x Sam Wilson, Black Female Reader x Tony Stark (Platonic)
Word Count - 1.4k
A/N - I was in a bit of a mood this morning 😅 love the idea of Sam Wilson in nice suits with money and power to buy the world. Sorry for any typos!
Warnings - smut (18+ only), finger sucking, fingering, age difference (reader is in her early 20s, Sam is late 30s-early 40s), pet names, ring kink, use of the name sir
Sam Wilson wears his suits, and he wears them well because he wants to remind people of who he is. He is a self-made man and one who doesn't play when it comes to his career. He breathes opulence but he shares that air, Wilson will never withhold what he has from those he loves.
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Twenty-four-seven he was adorned head to toe in designer with cufflinks priced more than half of anyone's closet, fine fabrics and jackets from other parts of the world, loafers polished down so you can see your reflection on the surface.
Though that list is short and those residing on it aren't exactly known, it was for good reason.
Samuel Thomas Wilson
He lets you call him whatever you like, but he won't answer you if you call him Samuel. Even the first time you met the man at that expensive gala, his name paired with the likes of Stark and other wealth accompanying.
You don't remember what it was for, some sort of benefit but you were there as a guest. That night you never considered catching his eye from across the room. Certainly not in the dress you had for years or the heels you borrowed from a friend.
Behind a sharp glass of amber, Samuel murmured your name to himself. "That's a beautiful name, Angel." And you fought the urge to down the rest of your liquor because of his eyes, his voice, that pet name. Poor thing. You didn't know it yet but he decided then.
"Name's Sam, you can call me whatever you like."
You were to be his.
"Oh, Tony…" You didn't know what to say, your heart rate kicked up when you thought back to his presence in front of you. His rich scent, his smile, even the way his hands wrapped around your fingers when he greeted you.
Tony was the one that spilled it out for you, "Listen honey-bee—" He liked calling you that ever since you wore these earrings with little bumble-bees on them, never forgetting it.
"Wilson asked about you the other night, he's wondering if you're interested in chatting with him again."
Being alone with him? How would you do it? You weren't very used to this kind of attention. And Stark's brown eyes soaked your reaction all up. There was an unreadable pull to the corners of his lips. He could appear teasing or simply amused. You didn't know which.
You didn't know what he already knew.
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Samuel had you in one of his day rooms. There were plastic bags with logos printed on the surface of each, silk ribbons secured around the handles, and all littering the hardwood floor.
You were dizzy counting them, losing track of all the clothes, all the shoes, the jewelry. You'd think the man waved his hand at any item you showed interest in. Any time you stop and let your eyes wander.
You didn't have to say anything, either. You think about how he knew, how it didn't take you to spell it out for him. Samuel could just read it from your face.
He liked to watch you gawk at all of those presents, eating up the fascination in your eyes. And it didn't matter that he paid anything else off for you.
Any debt or bill due, you never saw the balance, all your fees at university seemingly erased. Samuel plucked every stress-inducing financial due from your fingers.
His arms encircled your body, pulling you close so your back was secured to his chest. And you felt yourself lose count of those bags on the floor when he brought his hand to the top of your thigh, positioning your legs to layer his.
The solid muscle that was Sam, you felt you would break in his arms if he wanted you to. If he wanted to keep you there he would, but he was slightly open, giving you an option.
You didn't make any move, didn't want to, especially when Wilson's lips found the space behind your ear. "You get everything you wanted, Sweetheart?"
He held you close and carried on with layering your skin in kisses, holding himself there just to push those shudders from your body. Your hands wrung together in your lap, and Sam drifted from the top of your thigh to hold onto them.
But he still laid a firm hand around you, over the fabric of your dress, and with his thumb brushing over your exposed skin. You gazed out the stretching glass window in front of you, watching the afternoon sunlight, the trees swaying in the breeze.
You couldn't quite find your voice then, so you nodded, tapping your fingers on his skin. He hummed real low in his chest and felt it transfer through your back. "'M'glad, I'll give you whatever you want, Angel. You just gotta tell me."
A flutter soars through your chest and you work to not let it overcome you. He chuckled against your neck, feeling the warmth of your body skyrocketing.
"You tell me anything and I'll take care of it for you, okay?"
His hand released yours and he laid his large palm over your thigh once more, inching so very close to the hem of your dress, teasing the space between your legs.
"Yes sir," You breathe out, watching your thighs part more for him. You don't know what had gotten into you then, it was as if they moved on their own accord.
The smell of him, he was all over you, on your skin, and in your hair. You knew he would be long after you part later that day, his essence clinging to your bones.
His rings brushed along your inner thigh, the chill of the metals pushing you back against him, back into his groin, and forcing a growl from his lungs.
"Lean onto me, Baby."
Samuel shifted a little so that your legs would hook around the outside of his, his hold on your centering between your legs. His biceps encircled your shoulders and you just feel your nails dig into the fabric of his pants.
You listen to him and soon enough his cheek is pressing over your temple, the neat facial hair dragging along your brow. Your lips part when you realize the weight settling in your stomach.
"Mm, just like that."
But you soon let go, not wanting to ruin the expensive material. Sam inhales slowly, murmuring that it's okay, "Don't worry about these pants, Angel, hold onto me if you need."
He was stiff and prodding your lower back, not looking to move away anytime soon. Your teeth chew the inside of your cheek when you think about it, the expanse of him, how heavy he seems.
"I can feel you through your panties. You're soaking aren’t you?"
You both watch his fingers dip down and rub, and rub, over the wet patch on the fabric of your underwear. He doesn't let up, and he makes sure to drift upward to apply pressure to your clit. Your hips chase after him, a whine is bitten down in that quiet room.
He pulls his fingers out of your panties, placing them on your lips and he says to you, "Get them wet, Baby." And you don't even register how quick you are to obey the man, accepting his thick fingers into your mouth and getting them dripping wet with your saliva.
Sam pushes forward and dips his fingers under your hem, under the waistband of your panties, and resumes that same touch. Rubbing and rubbing.
"That feel good? Hm?" He kisses your neck, that hurried pulse against his lips. His eyes watch yours slide shut, and your breaths pick up to an uneven measure.
Samuel grips your thigh and he takes his fingers away, grasping your cheeks and smearing your spit over your lips. "Good fucking girl," he grunts. And he says it one more time so that you can hear it.
"My darling girl."
His palm lays flat on your stomach, and those fingers drop down to your pussy, spreading your lips open and stretching inside. He strokes your walls to the point that you leak, covering his skin and allowing him to move more.
Your head falls to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, hazed eyesight capturing the ornate ceiling with the sparkling chandelier. His eyes are half-lidded, and never leave where his fingers reside. Not his thumb massaging over your clit, not his rings sliding into your dripping pussy
"Just let me take care of you, Angel."
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Taglist - @brandycranby @emyearns I really wasn’t sure who else would like to be tagged in this. Let me know if you are interested!
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To Serve and Protect - Chapter 5
Pairing: AU!Bucky x F!Reader
Series summary: James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky for short, is an ex-cop turned social worker, forced to resign after witnessing a violent police brutality incident. Y/N is coming to terms with the fact that she is stuck in an abusive relationship. Bucky’s unsure why he’s so drawn to protect Y/N. All he knows is he’ll do whatever it takes.
Series warnings: emotional and physical abuse by intimate partner, non-con, sexual violence and dorogatory slur against sex workers (sex work is work!), panic attacks, nightmares, general mental health struggles
Rating: 18+ Graphic sexual violence, possibly some mild smut eventually; minors DNI, you have been warned.
Tag list: open! Just send me a note.
A/N: We’ve reached the half-way mark! Only three chapters plus an epilogue left. Enjoy more build up, hurt/comfort, and then FLUFF. Thanks to everyone for reading, liking, commenting, and reblogging -- it means more than I can express.
Chapter 5 word count: 3.5K
Chapter warnings: intimate partner physical and verbal abuse, violence (one punch), panic attack
Previous chapter | Next chapter
During the three months following their first walk home together, Bucky and Y/N began running into each other more often. Maybe it helped that Bucky happened to start working late on Thursday’s, right until the time Y/N would get out from group therapy. Or that after sharing his daily routine with her, Y/N’s lunchtime strolls happened to lead to the duck pond in the park behind the community centre, exactly when Bucky would be on lunch.
Sam reminded Bucky what a dangerous path he was heading down. He knew it was borderline, heck it was probably over the line. But he couldn’t help himself. Something drew him to Y/N, as if they were two rare earth magnets being pulled together by a force greater than themselves.
Y/N knew it was risky too. She’d read about transference and knew their budding friendship could fall into that category if someone looked at it from the right angle. But that’s not the angle she was viewing. From where she stood, all she saw was a man whose inner personality shone more beautifully than his rugged exterior the more it revealed itself.
Four months had passed since she had left Brock. The weekly group therapy had been invaluable in processing all of the emotions that came with accepting she had been in an abusive relationship. The shame for allowing it to happen, which mutated into rage at her abuser, which rebounded back into shame, and then snowballed into a sorrow that seeped into her bones. The cycle would repeat, ebbing and flowing depending on the day and how many triggers she encountered.
Until a few months into the process, she found herself feeling lighter some days. The triggers were less frequent. Quiet moments that used to flood with painful flashbacks if she stilled for too long now resonated with a peace she hadn’t felt in years. And in the last few weeks, those moments became infused with thoughts of Bucky.
Bucky, her social worker. The man with a seemingly never ending supply of patience and warmth. The man who never looked at Y/N with pity, only understanding and genuine care. The man who helped her unhitch herself from the claws of a manipulative and aggressive monster. The man who guided her towards safety, while making sure she was the one to get herself there, so that she could realize she’d been strong enough all along.
Even Wanda noticed the shift in Y/N and didn’t hide her theory.
“You know it’s ok if you like him. I mean, really, what isn’t to like? Those arms alone. Especially that metal one… there’s a few things I’d like to try with--”
“Wanda! Oh my god, stop. He’s my social worker. Of course I like him, but not like like him. Plus it’s only been like four months since I left Brock. I’m not some serial monogamist. And even if I did hypothetically have feelings for him, it would be completely inappropriate to act on them.”
“Then change social workers. Problem solved!”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Y/N rolled her eyes at her friend.
“And why not? You think it’s a coincidence that he works late the nights you have group? Plus I saw the way he blushed when you looked at him that time. It’s obvious you’re both crushing on each other.”
Y/N was turning a deep scarlet at this point. “No, no, no, no, no. He’s my social worker. It’s... it’s wrong.”
“Says, like, the rules of how these things work!”
“Well, I say find a different social worker so you can bang Bucky.”
“Oh my god, Wanda, you’re insufferable!” Y/N buried her face in her hands, burning from embarrassment.
She tried to ignore how her stomach fluttered at the thoughts manifesting from her friend’s innuendo. “Anyways, there’s really only my living situation that’s left on the list of goals we set up for me. After that I imagine my case is more or less done.”
“Well I had zero intention of rushing you out of my spare room, but if it means it gets you one step closer to dating that dreamboat, let’s find you an apartment!”
Y/N threw a pillow at her friend, shrieking in playful annoyance.
Bucky scrolled his phone from his couch where he and Sam sat, a hockey game in the background.
“You know, if you’ve got more important things to do I can go,” Sam teased his friend.
“Sorry, I’m just trying to find a client some options for an apartment,” Bucky explained, looking up from his phone towards his friend. “I really want to find them something permanent, you know? They’ve been through a lot.”
“Buck, it’s Saturday. I thought you were past the bringing work home stage. Wait… is this for the client?”
Bucky’s cheeks flushed as he averted his gaze from his friend to the game he hadn’t been watching at all.
“Man, I told you this was dangerous. You’re too involved. You need to practice more self control. Or... pass her file on to your coworker and ask her out already,” Sam grinned at his friend, whose face went from rosey pink to deep crimson.
“What? What are you even talking about?” Bucky stumbled, obviously flustered at his Sam’s insinuation. “Jesus, it’s not like that. I’m just trying to help her find an apartment. I’d do this for any client,” he defended.
“Oh really? And would you also work late intentionally so you can walk all your clients home after their group therapy sessions end?”
Bucky fell back into the couch, rubbing his forehead with his metal hand.
“I... it’s.. fuuuck.”
“Fuck is right,” Sam agreed, the corners of his lips still curled up. “Look man, I get it. This one is obviously different. I haven’t seen you like this, well, ever. And I’m really happy for you, because based on what you’ve told me it sounds like she might even feel the same. But you can’t be her social worker and have feelings for her. You need to step away from her file and talk to your director before you do anything else.”
“Ugh, I know, ok? I know. But she’s been through so much. I don’t want to spring any major changes on her or put any pressure on her.” Bucky sighed, feeling utterly lost in a forest of indecision. “The only thing left on her goal list we created was to find her an apartment. So that’s what I’m doing.”
Bucky rubbed his chin in thought and then sat up, confidence energizing him as he suddenly found his way through the trees. “You’re right. I’ll come clean to the director and request the case be transferred to Maria once a lease is signed. I just can’t abandon her at the very end. It wouldn’t feel right. I know I can keep my emotions in check until then.”
A softness flooded Sam’s eyes as he rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “I know you can too. Why don’t you show me some of those apartments. Let’s get this over with so you can get the girl.”
Bucky had sent Y/N a list of six apartments, all in the area she was looking for — close to her two supports, Wanda and the centre. She wanted to see all of them and they managed to set up viewing appointments all on the same day.
Normally Wanda would accompany Y/N for this type of life decision making. Y/N’s shyness and social anxiety were an unhelpful combination when it came to negotiating with strangers. But Wanda was out of town all week for work. Bucky was the only other person who knew about Y/N’s situation, and who Y/N trusted enough.
“Thank you again for coming with me,” Y/N extended to the social worker as they approached the third apartment. The last two had been duds, one too dark and the other taken by the time they arrived. This option was the top floor of a classic brownstone, well maintained over the years on a street lined with mature elm trees. It was just a few blocks west of Wanda’s in the direction of the centre.
“Please, you don’t need to keep thanking me,” Bucky assured her. “This is literally part of my job. I am required to ensure you have a safe and stable living situation,” he grinned.
She laughed as they entered the lobby after the landlord buzzed them in. “Ok, ok, fine. You’re not a nice person, you’re just getting paid,” she quipped back at him. The pair had developed quite the sarcastic banter over the past few months.
“I like this one already,” Y/N smiled, noting the original but well preserved detailing throughout the building. Bucky saw the brightness in her eyes and crossed his fingers this could be the one.
Sure enough, Y/N fell in love with the apartment as soon as they entered. And the landlord (who turned out to be a landlady) seemed to like her almost as much. So much so that she insisted on calling all of Y/N’s references then and there -- the tenant slated to move in the next month had bailed so the woman was eager to not lose a month’s rent. Fifteen minutes later, the lease was signed and post-dated cheques were handed over. Y/N thanked her new landlady, then she and Bucky exited what would be her new home in a few weeks.
They were on their way toward Wanda's apartment when Y/N froze as she heard the familiar voice.
“Y/N? Christ, I knew it was you.”
She felt like her knees were going to give out and all of her insides were rising up to make a mass exodus via her mouth. She managed to steady her breath and respond.
“Brock. What are you doing here?”
“I had to meet a client at their home. I wondered if I’d run into you. I know that bitch of a redhead lives around here.” Then Brock moved his glare from Y/N to Bucky, “I see you’ve wasted no time. I hope you like sloppy seconds, pal.”
“My name is James, I’m Y/N’s social worker.” Bucky stepped forward, placing himself between Brock and Y/N. “Why don’t I call us a Lyft?” he suggested, attempting to take control of the situation as he turned back to check on her.
Y/N nodded, hands trembling at her side and eyes full of appreciation.
“Oh, so you told all of our business to this dickwad?” Brock waved a finger at Bucky. “After everything I did for you, you just disappear and then tell a bunch of lies to the first random dude who pays you any attention? You’re so fucking predictable. I should have left you ages ago.”
“You don’t have to listen to this, Y/N,” Bucky said calmly, resisting every urge to not throw his own seething glare back at Brock. “Why don’t we go wait somewhere? I think there was a cafe down the street.”
Bucky knew not to engage when people escalated like this. He placed a gentle hand on the small of Y/N’s back to turn them away from Brock. But nothing infuriated Brock more than being rejected. As Bucky rotated, the now enraged ex closed the distance between them in a few swift steps and landed a punch to Bucky’s jaw with so much force he nearly knocked Y/N to the ground. Well, he would have if Brock hadn’t grabbed Y/N’s wrist and yanked her towards him.
“I can’t believe I let you break up with me. After everything I had to put up with,” he fumed grabbing her other wrist.
“Brock, you’re hurting me. Let me go,” she said firmly, though laced with fear.
Bucky knew he had no choice. He quickly grabbed his phone and dialed 9-1-1. “Hi, I’d like to report an assault in progress. Yes, thank you.”
Brock dropped his grip from Y/N’s arm as terror filled his eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me, man? I barely touched you. Y/N you saw what happened, he embellished that.”
“You can’t do this anymore, Brock,” she said stoically, as Bucky held the line with the dispatcher. “I’m not going to let you fucking do this anymore. I’m done. It’s fucking done.”
The aftermath of the altercation turned into an ordeal that dragged late into the evening. Under Bucky’s guidance, Y/N pressed charges. It would make it easier to get a restraining order with a documented assault.
Y/N felt horrible for what Brock did, and for putting Bucky through the torture of having to go to the police station to give his statement. She knew that couldn’t be easy with his past. He assured her it was not the first time he’d involved the police since staring work at the centre.
Bucky couldn’t believe she was worried about him after everything that had just happened to her that day. His heart swelled for this lovely, considerate human being that had tumbled into his world four months earlier.
“Let’s get you home,” he said sweetly, ordering another Lyft after their four hour stint at the police station. Bucky was trying to offer as much comfort as professionally possible. Y/N only nodded, a vacant stare having taken up residence across her face.
A few blocks before the Lyft turned up Wanda’s street, Bucky noticed the shift in Y/N. Her chest started heaving and her eyes were darting frantically. Bucky knew this state well. Without a second thought, he grabbed Y/N’s hand in an attempt to tether her. She held on fiercely, but her demeanor remained unchanged.
“I’m going to let go so I can help you out of the car and then I’m going to take you upstairs,” Bucky explained delicately once they arrived at their destination. She showed no signs of acknowledging, other than releasing her grip when he opened his door.
Somehow the pair made it upstairs without her escalating further. Bucky directed Y/N on every step, prompting her for her keys, the floor number for the elevator, and then the apartment number. She managed to heed all of his gentle commands. It wasn’t until they were in the apartment that she finally surrendered. The day’s events had weakened her defenses. The pillars crumbled and Y/N fell apart on the floor of Wanda’s apartment.
“Sweetheart, I need you to breathe with me,” Bucky instructed as he kneeled down to face her as she gasped for air. “I’m going to grab your hand and place it on my chest. I want you to feel my breath and try to match that, ok Y/N?”
He didn’t expect a response, but didn’t want to startle her with his touch. She was still heaving in shallow breaths at a much too rapid pace so he switched tactics.
“Y/N, I want you to tell me five things you see right now. Don’t think about it, just name the first five things you see.”
She gasped painfully and then sputtered out her five items. “You… couch… floor… your arm… stool…”
“Good. You’re doing so good, Y/N. Now tell me four things you can hear.”
Her inhales became slightly less constricted. “Your voice… my voice… my breath… the fridge.”
“Amazing, Y/N. You’ve got this sweetheart. Now three things you can feel.”
Her breathing was starting to even out. “Your hand… my jeans… the floor.”
“I’m so proud of you, Y/N. You’re doing so good. Tell me two things you can smell.”
Her breaths were coming easy now. “Candle… floor cleaner.”
“That’s it, Y/N. Last one. Tell me one thing you can taste.”
“Blood. I think I bit my tongue,” she chuckled nervously, suddenly acutely aware of the situation and flooded with embarrassment.
Bucky read the shame immediately.
“Y/N, can you look at me?” Her cheeks were red as tears started to stream from her eyes that raised to meet Bucky’s sympathetic gaze. “I am so proud of you. What you went through today was incredibly intense. You signed a new apartment, ran into your abusive ex, stood up to him, and then actually held him accountable.
“It’s a completely reasonable response to break down under the weight of so much change and trauma. You are so strong and I’m just so proud of how far you’ve come.” He squeezed her hand then pulled it from his chest to place on her lap before letting go.
The tears were now a waterfall and Y/N couldn’t stop the sobs that spilled from her throat when freed his grip from hers. “C-can you pl-pl-please h-hug m-me?” she hiccuped.
Bucky obliged without a thought, wrapping his arms around her as she released every emotion she’d tucked away from the ordeal — and some that had been hiding in unlit crevices for far too long.
For twenty minutes, he rocked her gently, tracing light circles on her upper back with his metal hand, maintaining a firm but comforting grip with this other. He held the same even pressure around her until her sobs morphed into occasional hiccups. Then she finally pulled away, sniffling and rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands.
“I’m so sorry to--”
“Y/N, please. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. Nothing. I’m glad I could be here for you. I mean it,” the corners of his eyes wrinkled as he flashed the smile that always awoke butterflies in her stomach.
“Stay,” she suddenly blurted out. The day’s events had worn her down so much that she lost all inhibition and reason and self-doubt.
“What?” Bucky blinked, not sure he’d heard her correctly.
“Stay. Tonight. Here. With me. I mean unless you don’t want to… shit, you don’t want to. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I knew I read this all wrong. You’re just doing your job and I--”
“I want to,” he interrupted her.
“Really?” Y/N looked up at him in disbelief.
“Really. Like, a lot,” he emphasized. “It’s just, we need to talk about this first. But you’ve been through so much today, I don’t want to create any more complications.”
“No, no I get it. I agree. I know this is not what’s supposed to happen. And this puts you in a difficult position. The last thing I want to do is jeopardise your career. I just, somewhere the lines started blurring for me. And I know what transference is, and I spent a lot of time thinking about it and I know, I mean I’m pretty sure anyways, that this isn’t that. I mean, I don’t know what this is, but I just…
She took a breath of courage before finishing her monologue.
“All I know is when I’m around you I’ve never felt more safe and cared for. You make me laugh. You add light to my life where there was only dark for so long. I didn’t know things could be this bright.”
Bucky grabbed Y/N’s hands in his, hoping the contrast of warmth and cold wouldn’t startle her. His heart was pounding so hard he feared it would break through his ribs.
“Y/N, I care about my clients. All of them. But it’s different different with you.” He sighed before continuing with his own confession. “I’ve tried to keep safe boundaries, but it’s been nearly impossible. And I can’t be your social worker if I have feelings like this.
Bucky started rambling at this point.
“Last week I decided I would help you find an apartment and then turn over your file to my colleague who just came back from mat leave, Maria Hill. She’s an excellent social worker and if you need any follow ups, I know she’ll take good care of you.
“And I’ll have to talk to the director. Maybe I’ll have to transfer to a sister centre. But I don’t care. If it means I get to continue whatever this is, to continue being here for you in whatever way you need, whatever way you deserve, then I’ll do it. I’d do anything for you, Y/N. I hope you know that.”
Without hesitating, Y/N flung herself into Bucky’s arms and started crying again, only this time she was laughing. “Oh my god, you are the sweetest man on the planet! I don’t know why I’m crying. God, this day has been a rollercoaster of emotions!” Bucky laughed at her unabashed excitement, his eyes glistening as well.
After tending to Bucky's chin, Y/N pulled together a few sandwiches as a makeshift dinner. Once they'd individually freshened up, the two laid together in Wanda’s spare bed. Bucky had his right arm around Y/N as she rested her cheek on his chest. One of Y/N’s hand traipsed along where his shoulder connected to the metal prosthetic while it drew cooling lines on her back.
“I hope it doesn’t bother you,” he whispered, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“Not at all,” she whispered back. “Would you think it was weird if I said I actually maybe possibly think it’s a turn-on?”
Bucky could feel her lips curl and he grinned, a warmth flooding his lower abdomen. He tilted his head down and placed the most delicate kiss on her forehead, hoping to communicate every thought racing through his mind in the single gesture.
“You’re incredible,” he mumbled through the kiss.
She returned the affection by placing a soft peck to his chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she muttered, weariness from the events of the day wearing on her. Within minutes, her breathing slowed as the sound of Bucky’s heart lulled her to sleep.
Bucky resisted closing his eyes, not wanting the curtains to fall on the picture before him. When he finally succumbed, a smile remained on his face as he drifted into the most peaceful sleep he’d had in years.
Next chapter (coming soon).
Tag list: @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @jo-ha-nna @ginger-swag-rapunzel @txssellate- @intothesoul @leyannrae
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Lunner (Bucky x Reader)
Pairing: Bucky x Enhanced!Reader
Word Count: 1246
Warnings: Fluffyyyy, mentions/depictions of domestic abuse (not from Bucky), Reader gets hurt, protective Bucky
A/N: Yeah, yeah, you know the thing. Erm—I usually don’t really write enhanced reader, but the thought of knocking Bucky on his ass with ice is fun, so here we go. Please don’t copy my work onto this platform or other platforms.
Re-blogs, comments/critiques, and notes are GREATLY appreciated. thanks for all the support on my last fic too <3
Summary: Reader can conjure up ice, and is constantly using her talents to annoy Bucky.
“What was that for?!”
“You woke me up so early.” you complained, still giggly at the fact that you’d made Bucky fall flat on his ass.
“Just because you have these powers now, doesn’t mean that you should abuse me with them.”
Your heart tugged at the word abuse. No one knew your secret, not even Bucky.
You never thought that Alex would lay hands on you, but the more often it happened, the more often you made excuses for his behaviour. You couldn’t see the trap he’d lay you into so gently that it was hard for anyone to take notice. Thinking about abusing Bucky made you want to jump out of a window. It made you want to hide your icy cold hands away from the world or shove them into a fireplace.
“Hey, I was just kidding. It’s fine. You didn’t actually hurt me.” Bucky said, misunderstanding your moment of silence, but who could blame him?
You and Bucky had grown close, something that Bucky wasn’t used to. He wasn’t sure that he even knew how to do it. He always found himself being overly possessive, slightly clingy, and extremely protective. You didn’t seem to mind.
“Are you hungry? Do you want lunch?”
“No. I-I actually have a date.”
Liar. You mentally scolded yourself. Today was too important to blow it off on lunch with Bucky. Today, you would finally tell Alex that you two were done.
All the while, Bucky wallowed in self pity at his singleness. Specifically, his singleness in regards to you.
Bucky hated Alex, plain and simple. Everyone else claimed that Alex was a “nice guy” when you invited him to meet Captain America, but Bucky’s always hated him. It started with the fact that you didn’t hold the door open for you. Then he spoke over you every time you tried to talk. And he finished the night by asking you to get him a beer, despite your deadly fear of drinking and driving, unless it was one of the enhanced, who couldn’t get drunk.
You didn’t miss the look of disgust that Bucky blew your way, but you brushed it off of your shoulder as if it was nothing.
“Erm—I’ll be back soon, though. Maybe we can have... ‘lunner?’ Together?”
“Yeah, Bucko.” he hated when you called him that.
“I hate it when you call me that.” and you knew.
6 hours. You missed “lunner”, and Bucky was mad. You promised. This was the first time you ever broke a promise, and Bucky didn’t like the fact that it was over Alex one bit.
“Where have you been?! I’ve been waiting for you! I’m starving! Come on!”
He was starving? He’s been waiting? You couldn’t take it anymore. You simply wanted everything—even Bucky—to go away.
Bucky regretted everything.
Spiked shards of ice extended 10 feet away from you, attached to a central bead of ice, which kept you to your own.
“Hey... what’s wrong?”
But when Bucky tried to approach, the spikes got longer and longer, until he was more than 15 feet away from you.
“Y/N, please... talk to me.” he begged, setting down his phone on the table.
Talk. What was there to talk about? Were you supposed to talk about your bruised cheek? Were you supposed to talk about your broken heart?
“Don’t shut me out, Y/N. I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you.”
Sorry. Sorry was something you hadn’t heard for a long time. Maybe that was why the spikes retracted by 5 feet. Maybe that was why your tears started shedding. Maybe that was why you wanted to be held by him. The more you thought about it, the more your spikes retracted, not that you did anything to stop them.
He’d already taken you in. By the time the ice was gone, you were warm, and in his arms. God, did you hate the feeling of cold before him. Ironic, isn’t it?
“What’s wrong, Doll?” he asked, stroking your hair with his calloused palm. His metal hand contrasted that one, tugging from your waist.
When you didn’t reply, he lifted your chin to meet his eyes, but what he found was devastating.
It didn’t take him long to register what had happened—or at least portions of it. And he was ready to kill. All he saw was red, the colour of hate.
Just as Bucky was about the stomp to the door, you tucked yourself into his torso, tight enough the you almost knocked him over by squeezing around his stomach.
“He hit you.” Bucky seethed.
Still, his hands remained gentle as ever, rubbing circles on your back as you sobbed out all of your emotions.
“I wanted to tell you before, but I couldn’t, Bucky.”
“Before?” Bucky asked in disbelief. “How long has it been going on?!”
“... A year, maybe.”
Bucky physically tensed. Of course, he was still mad—furious—at Alexander, but he was even more upset with himself. With all his time spent with you, he hadn’t noticed anything off? Bucky felt like a punch to the gut had just been delivered, but it was only you, crying your eyes out.
Bucky would do anything for the woman he loved so much.
“I’ll kill him.”
Bucky ripped you arms off of his side, shoving his way to the door, but not even getting a footstep away from you.
“Bucky, wait!” you yelled, icing the floor beneath him, until he was sliding in your direction. “We-we broke up. I-I’m okay now.”
Never in his life had Bucky been so relieved. He didn’t know whether to jump for or call the police department. He was still determined to find Alex, but maybe now wasn’t the time.
“I’m sorry.” he repeated his words from earlier, giving them a different meaning. He sat on the floor, ice not allowing him to move any closer to the door.
You nodded quietly and tucked yourself back into his arms of protection. God, he was such a barrier from the world. He smelled of mint and cedar wood, something like a car freshener and expensive cologne. All you wanted to do was stay huddled in these arms forever.
“Did you get anything to eat?”
You had to stop yourself from giggling at the irony, so you shook your head against his clothed abs, frizzing up your hair.
“Well, you spent an hour trying to make those cookies, the least I can do was be nice about them.” Bucky tried to crumb off the burnt bottom of his chocolate chip and almond cookie.
“Hmph. I suck.”
“You don’t suck.” he started.
As he walked toward you, you created another ice patch under his feet, having little knowledge of the direction he’d fall in.
He ended up on top of you. His strong arms kept himself in a plank so he wouldn’t crush you with his weight, and all you could do was laugh.
“Now, what was that one for?”
“For lying to me.”
“I didn’t lie. You’re the least sucky woman I’ve ever met.”
You smiled at the childish words, remembering the first time you met Bucky.
“Oh...” you tried not to sound too disappointed.
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no! Not you! This stupid internet thing! What the hell is a ‘Vine?’”
“And the smartest, most beautiful, most deserving, most admirable person I know.” He praised looking deeply into your soul through your pupils.
The wind had been knocked out of you, and without your knowledge, you stopped breathing a long time ago.
Just as you were about to tell Bucky all the reasons you loved him, and reject his statements, strong, warm, slightly chapped lips met your’s for a gentle kiss.
“Now you know why I missed you for ‘lunner.’”
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PART TWO : Blue hair - Bucky Barnes
Part one ^^^
Notes : this was originally at the bottom but I moved it to the top of the post. WOAHH PART THREE? Actually no Im honestly not sure if I can stand writing more oblivious reader. How do people write slow burn??? Ah well. Lmk if you want a part three, and as always, send any suggestions to make my writing easier/better for you guys
PART TWO: ENJOY
In all fairness, in your excitement, you had completely forgotten about being in nothing but a t shirt.
You grasped Buckys shirt and pulled him in for a hug, still not believing bucky would do such a thing just for you. Your heart almost melted at the thought.
"uh-" Bucky was so surprised and flustered his face didn't even get the chance to slowly blush over, instead he was surprised the temperature in the bathroom didn't rise another 10 degrees due to the harshness of his tomato red cheeks.
He closed his arms around you resting his chin on your head, embracing you, all the while trying to reduce the sudden rosy red seemingly stamped onto his face. Guess he did get that tattoo after all.
However, with your face buried in his chest, all previous sadness washed away from you, leaving you in a little bubble of pure joy and ecstasy.
"Thank you so much Buck.. But-well, I don't wanna force or pressure you into doing this. It is pretty permanent. Are you suuurre?" Your voice sniffled and came out muffled as you spoke into his chest. You grasped his cheeks on either side of his face adorably and brought you faces closer together, trying to convey the seriousness of this decision.
Unfortunately, Bucky, who had just managed to reduce the bold red on his face back down to a pale pink, suddenly blushed. Again. Damn it.
It didn't help that your hands were smooth and soft and warm and were subconsciously stroking the side of his face.
"uhh- of course. Of course! God. Yes. N-no. NO i- I mean w-what colour?" Jesus Christ. Calm down, Bucky thought to himself with slight frustration, subconsciously squeezing your waist.
Of course, you were oblivious, so you thought he was flustered because of the sudden decision he made to dye his locks. Not because he was standing between your legs and you had just grabbed his face like you were gonna kiss him.
Jesus I'm frustrated just writing this. Lmao. Anywaaayys.
"oh. Uh b-buck? You alright there?" You softly said, trying to recover from your little whimper after Buckys hands grabbed your waist, red now creeping up your cheeks as you prayed Bucky hadn't noticed.
..fuck yeah he did.
It was five in the evening, and you made your way back up to Buckys room.
Buzzing from excitement, you entered his room almost the same way you did this morning and flitted more like tripped around, preparing all the supplies you guys would need.
Bucky was still downstairs in the gym, working out with Steve. He showered down there too because I can't be bothered with the technicalities of writing more flustered Bucky and akward tension.
Coming back up the stairs, he found you patiently waiting with an giddy smile on your face as you held up different boxes of hair dye, comparing colours in the mirror.
He hadn't told anyone he was going to dye his hair. He decided to uh- tackle that problem as it came. Tackle as in literally. Problem as in Sam.
"Hey doll." Damn. What was this, the first time he didn't stutter like a fool in your presence?
You seemed to notice it too. Your eyes locked in the mirror and the corners of your mouth tilted up.
"You ready?" You laughed, doing little bounces of enthusiasm.
Bucky sighed happily. Contentment seeped into his bones. He felt happy. He could get used to seeing you like this. In his room, too.
"Ready as I'll ever be."
Have the best day babes drink water and wear sunscreen please I love you mwah ❤️
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Call It A First (Epilogue)
Sam Wilson x F!Reader
Summary: After the events of both Madripoor and Riga, Sam returns to Delacroix with you by his side. Somewhat nervous, you meet his family for the first time.
Alternate Endings. Smut. Alcohol. Jealousy. Explicit Language.
WARNINGS: Mentions of Sex. (Otherwise, this is mostly family-friendly fluff.)
CALL IT A NIGHT - TUMBLR MASTERLIST
CLINTS-LUCKY-ARROW MAIN MASTERLIST
Word Count: 2.0k
Likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated.
A/N: Here we go. The series finale for Sam Wilson! (Huge shoutout and thanks to @basement-cricket who had initially put in the idea as a request during a celebration. I loved it so much that I had to include it in the series!)
**If you are new to the ‘Call It A Night’ series, this is a fic with alternate storylines. This chapter is Sam Wilson’s epilogue. Bucky Barnes’ storyline is also completed, while Helmut Zemo’s will last for a few more chapters.
To read the previous pieces and follow the layout of the story, you can visit the masterlist here, and see what else is contained in the series.
I hope that you like it!
Your hesitant question breaks the comfortable silence. “Do you think that she’ll like me?”
Sam looks at you from his place in the driver’s seat, wheel slowly turning within his grip. He’s still a little bruised and battered from the fight with Walker, but otherwise fine. A smile forms on his lips, slightly blurred in your vision as the car continues to bump down the dusty side-road. Your fingers play against the seatbelt as you wait for him to answer, trying to release some of the nervous energy that had been all too evident in your tone.
Even though it takes mere moments for him to respond, anxiety stretches out the time. His reply seems to take longer than it actually does, which in turn does little to assuage your fears.
Noting this, he chuckles while answering. “You’re being silly. she’ll love you. Hell, she knows enough about you already to tell me if you weren’t welcome.”
Despite his sincere tone, the apprehension persists. Your fingers shift from picking at the belt to worriedly playing against at eachother. Catching sight of the motion, Sam lifts one hand from the steering wheel to place it atop the two of yours, halting the nervous habit in the act. Serious brown eyes land on you as his thumb strokes reassuringly over your skin.
“I love you. My sister will too. You have nothing to worry about.”
His words bore through your mind once again. Despite everything, a shy smile curls your lips as heat swells through your cheeks. It's not the first time that he’s said the words. He returned the sentiment on the rooftop in Madripoor, after the stretch of tense silence following your own dissipated into the night. Still, each time he says it, the excitement only comes anew. You're not entirely sure that it will ever completely fade.
Through the trees, glimpses of a house comes into view. It's large and white, sitting amidst the green clearing of the woods. Shifting, Sam's hand slides off yours as you lean to get a better look. The curiosity causes another small laugh to rumble from his chest, and the car turns into the stretch of dirt road driveway leading straight up to the front porch. Underneath the awning, the front door already lies open to reveal a darkened interior.
Behind, something thuds dully in the boot, pitched by the turn. You know what it is without looking. The shield.
As he pulls to a halt, the anxiety rises again. Catching your wide eyed gaze, his playful and unbothered expression turns into something a little more serious as he notes the extent of your concern. Sam’s head tilts, keen eyes assessing your expression. Noting the downward furrow of your brow, how your bottom lip rolls nervously between your teeth.
"Have you ever met the family before?" he asks hesitantly. "Of someone that you were dating, I mean."
A tight smile draws your lips taut. "Nope. Call it a first." Another thought occurs to you, just as you finish. "Wait. Did you say 'dating?'"
Sensing that you are only teasing him, Sam's smile doesn't lose its vigor. If anything, it becomes more mocking. Head angling, there is an undeniably tease to his voice as he responds. "Well, we did say we'd do it again. And we have. Silly me for assuming that you weren't just using me for my body, but who could really blame you of you were?"
Unable to cultivate a response, you just chuckle softly and smack him on the arm before swinging open the car door. It gapes clear, and you hop out onto the fresh lawn of Sam's family home. He follows around the other side, but your attention is now diverted. From inside of the opened door, voices spill out. Two in particular, both young and male. His nephews, it must be. You can hear them clattering down the stairs, shouting at one another as they catch sight of the car through the window.
The smile grows further on your face as the young boys barrel out onto the porch. Their footsteps clatter loudly down the porch steps, and then they are there. One skids to a halt beside you, as the other rushes back to where Sam is pulling the covered shield from the trunk.
“Uncle Sam!” comes the further away shout.
However, the boy standing before you scans your face curiously. You can’t help but smile. He looks a little bit like his uncle. They have the same nose.
A grin grows a little further upon your face, and you snap your index finger at him with a flourished grin. "AJ, am I right? You're taller than I expected."
A wide smile tugs his lips upward at that remark, and his head dips in affirmation. Behind, the younger of the two - Cass, as you recall - has already begun to launch into a rather one-sided conversation with Sam. His uncle makes noises of agreement, but it doesn't seem like he'll be able to fit a word in edgeways. Watching him with the kid makes you chuckle, but you are sure not to ignore AJ for too long.
Turning back, you step forward, deciding to offer him your hand. A boy his age likes to be treated like a man, and so you'll introduce yourself properly. His head tilts further as you tell him your name, but his slightly damp palm still presses into yours readily.
Sunlight reflects in the pane of his glasses as he sizes you up again before speaking. "My mom says that you're one of the good guys."
That makes you laugh. "I'd like to think so, but I don't know if everyone would agree. Like your uncle, I got into a little bit of trouble too."
"Yeah. I saw your picture in the paper. You were on trial.” Right. You’re not quite sure what to say to that. Luckily, AJ continues without any real pause. “Why are you here, though?"
Straight to the point. It's such a 'kid thing' that you can't help but chuckle again. Sam shifts into place by your side before you can respond, and the arm not carrying the shield bag drapes casually around your shoulder. AJ watches the motion with widening eyes, gears in his mind turning.
Cass appears before his older brother can voice another question. You introduce yourself again, stooping slightly to shake his hand, for he is a little shorter than his sibling. Once done, you silently ask Sam's permission with your eyes, before slyly asking the boys to lift one of your bags from the car. When they realize that it contains presents for them - a mix of sweets and some small gadgets, nothing too big for fear of overstepping the mark - their faces light up in a way that causes warmth to well uncontrollably within your chest.
They carry it in ahead as you follow them up the steps. Just before you enter, Sam halts. That slight hesitation is back on his face, and you know what he is about to say even before the words leave his lips.
"Bucky will be fine," you interject knowingly.
Even though Sam isn't quite sure whether or not to believe it, you are. You had seen the acceptance on his face in Riga. When you had stood under the arched doorframe of Zemo's Latvian property, and told him that you'd made your choice. That it was Sam. It had hurt him, that was plain to see, but he had the decency not to protest. To hold onto his hurt and not make it harder for everyone else.
You could only hope that one day, when this torch he held for you had dwindled, that a firm friendship between the three of you could remain. It's what Steve would have wanted.
"Are you sure?" Sam asks a little doubtfully, and you nod once, certain.
God. You love that he's so caring. Completely selfless and thoughtful, always thinking of the others around him. In the world today, such a man is a rare breed.
"Positive," you reply with a low murmur, leaning in to press a lingering kiss against his cheek.
That does the trick in bolstering his resolve. Shooting a look that is simultaneously thankful and pleased, Sam slides his arm from your shoulder. His fingers trail down your shoulder, skirting across your skin to then entwine with your own. You stumble slightly, foot catching while crossing the threshold, as he pulls you after him.
Head whipping back and forth, he calls loudly, searching for his sister. "Sarah! We’re here!”
Your grip tightens automatically. While it was a little intimidating to meet the nephews, they were children who could be bribed with a few trinkets. Sam's sister was a different story. Sarah Wilson was a grown woman, who was widely reputed to be both kind and fiercely independent. It was a daunting combination. Add in your uncertainty about how she regards you leaving your friends and fleeing to Berlin shortly after coming back from the Blip, and it is enough to make your stomach twist.
Floorboards creak in the distance as another set of shoes pick up, and then a female voice lifts into the air. "Sorry, sorry! I was out back putting some clothes on the line.”
She appears around the corner just as you release her brother's hand. The action makes him laugh. Knowing you as he does, Sam recognizes that you're not sure where the barrier on public displays of affection lies when around family, and would rather start off with nothing at all. However, the look that he gives can't help but make you feel just a little silly.
Intercepting her, Sam pulls Sarah into a tight hug. It gives you a few moments to compose yourself before they release, and simultaneously turn to face you. An awkward pause lingers in the air as you wait for someone to speak. Either for you to bite the bullet and introduce yourself, or for Sam to pipe up and do it. The latter happens after a few seconds, accompanied by a small wave of slightly embarrassed laughter from all parties.
He tells her your name with a smile. Something about the way he utters it, drawing out the syllables more than necessary, implies the importance of this moment. Sarah nods with a wry smile, indicating that his emphasis is unnecessary. Turning to you, she rolls her eyes.
"For some reason, he seems to believe that I'm the forgetful one. I know who you are."
A chuckle spills from your lips as you offer her your hand, same as you did with her boys. “It’s lovely to meet you, Sarah. Sam’s told me a lot about you.”
Her head shakes wryly, warm palm sliding into your own as she offers a welcoming smile. “I can guarantee that he’s told me more about you. And... it’s about time that this happened. The two of you.” Her hand slides free of yours, gesturing between both of you knowingly. "I wasn't sure how many more years of his pining I could take."
Your brow lifts in surprise, turning towards Sam. "You pined for me?"
"Oh yes," Sarah chuckles. "You should have seen him after you left for Germany. I've never seen a man go through so much ice cream."
It's an unexpected piece of news. Sam had always seemed so relaxed and composed, allowing you to navigate your life without bestowing any pressure or guilt. As your gaze locks on his, those broad shoulders rise and fall into a flustered shrug.
“I love you," he explains simply.
Even though it's not the first time that he has said it, the words bring a lump to your throat. You stare into his face, drinking in the sight of those deep brown eyes and tracing the ghost of a gentle smile curling the edge of his lips. The loud sound of Sarah's throat clearing breaks your trance, as does the slight jostle of her arm as it links through yours.
“Well, come on into the kitchen. Dinner will be ready in a short while. Make yourself at home. You're pretty much family now, after all."
A/N: Just a small, cute ending, because those two deserve it!
Thank you for all the support throughout this story, and I’m glad that people enjoyed Sam’s previous chapter. He’s such an underrated character and I was happy to hear that people felt I did him justice! All of your support has been so appreciated!
To see what else has happened in the series, you can check out the masterlist here and use the link at the end of the post to sign up to my taglist.
As usual, likes, comments, and reblogs are truly appreciated!
Call It A Night/Sam Taglist: @mindlostin5oldiers @missedregrets @devilswaldorf @whoreforsamwilson @delicioustrashsouldiplomat @sunsetmando @plzimjustanegg @multiyfandomgirl40 @moonstuffsteve @rax-writes @slytherwanda @lxdyred @your-pixels-are-showing @zaynzierulez @the-lil-spud @noavengers @war-in-time @herbscottie67 @evangeline-perry @piggyinthesea @the-wayward-daughter @ringofsecrets @ajeff855 @amelialistree @cable-kenobi @auroresce @ashamed23 @harami-mami @drarrysreddie @starstruckforyou @victias @zemosugarbaby @theclonesdeservedbetter @casualcursing @allhailkingboba @fandomess-x2 @trinsghost @jewelsrocks99 @medicine-minibot @swimmingsloths @az-alvilag-ironovendeke @t0nystank @shitexcuseofausername @stephyra @lorosette @summersimmerus @natashadeservedbetter @estellamarz @shannonnicoleee @peculiarity @chelseaxaz @mssbridgerton @silverqueen28 @hard-to-be-the-bard @winterrach @huffleruffplant @ally22042000 @sinister-sleep @robinhollister @cvnnamon-girl @tryxter-in-the-pantry @bucxysbarnes @supreme-evil-hottie @harmonyf123 @rogersangel @estrela-rogers @spookyanabarnes @jardinsecos @agirlwithejournal @Boundless—beauty @flyforeverfree @idynasty @pedrosgirlx @blue-moon221 @juliatje22 @janakt @Hibiscusgardenia @angelhairpastauwu @avengersofmischief @niki-is-a-thing @topgirl17 @burnalley @fandom-princess-forevermore @rax-writes @afraid-to-be-me @ktyprryholms @shellita09 @wolfemond @clxste @ilovesamwilsonn @captainsherlockwinchester110283 @interstellarmesswrites @mrjeanswaifu221b @bruhlsbitxh @punemy-spotted @childishlittlebeer @deliciously-nerdy @thesunflowersutra @uss-lesbian @reejero @lustful-w0nders @chiakitoga @kellymcginley @auroresce @deanhisbaby @katsufairies @adoringdanvers @stephlent @aureliomoon @jane-dough @trashywritestrash @lizzy-95 @missroro @taisha124 @MsClifford @liz-owl @spookyrarl @the-jess-life @julyvegan @marvel-ingatbucky @alltoofunny
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Dark Chocolate (Bucky x Reader)
Pairing: Domestic!Bucky x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 658
Warnings: Fluffy, period pain
A/N: I guess don’t read this if you don’t like hearing about feminine products? Yeah, okay. Don’t copy my work pls. Also, reposts are appreciated :D
Summary: Reader is on her period, Bucky brightens her day.
You listened to Bucky’s whines from the living room, completely ignoring him as you flipped through your book, and shoved some airpods into your ears.
“Y/N, what the heck?!” Bucky came swiveling around the corner, skidding along the floor in his non-slip shoes.
“Did I do something wrong? Why are you ignoring me?”
You groaned quietly, trying not to move your body. You couldn’t remember the last time your cycle started, you just knew that this one hurt. “Baby?”
“I’m not ignoring you.”
“Baby, are you okay?!”Bucky was more than concerned now. Had you been hurt on your mission with Natasha? Did you pull a muscle in training?
“Bucky... I’m on my period.”
You weren’t sure what to expect. I mean, Bucky was a man of the 1940s. How would he take the news?
He pulled you into his arms, trying not to put you in anymore pain that you were already in. “So, that’s why you were ignoring me. Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Well, Steve always shys away from it with Nat... I thought it was a 40s thing.”
“Baby, I had four sisters.”
Right. You hadn’t thought to keep that it mind. You hadn’t also accounted the fact that Bucky would do anything to keep you happy.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I just—you were busy, and I didn’t wanna bother you with my—”
“You could never bother me.” He hugged you closer. “Especially not with something as important as your period.”
“I’m gonna go out.”
The last thing you wanted was for your boyfriend, who just explained why he cared about you, and your period, leaving to do something other than cuddling you.
“I’m gonna do some shopping, and I’ll be right back.”
“Do you have to?”
“I’ll be back soon.”
Your boyfriend kissed your cheeks, then the tip of your nose, then your forehead, and finally the back of your hand. “I love you, Dolly.”
“Love you too.” you mumbled, slightly upset over the fact that Bucky was leaving you at home, alone.
“I’ll be back soon. I promise.”
When Bucky came home, his heart sunk to his stomach. He didn’t intend on being out long. He just got caught up in the female hygiene section. Why were there so many types of tampons?
Then the chocolates. Did you like dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white chocolate? After ten minutes of contemplating, he bought them all.
Finally, the fuzzy blankets and stuffed animals. How was he meant to choose between the giant bear and the huge hugging sloth.
By the time he got home, his arms were stuffed full of everything you could possibly need—except for him.
He wanted to throw up, actually, he almost did. He glanced at his watch; he’d been gone for two whole hours.
He watched as you held tightly onto your tummy, wincing in pain. Your face was damp with tears, thin lines running down your cheeks. The TV had been muted—he didn’t know how long for—and playing one of your comfort movies he’d seen many times. You tea say still, cold now. Your heating pad had lost all comfort, lying in a lump on the floor, beside your hoodie.
“Babe... I’m home.” He said sadly, his shoulders slumping at the sight.
“Where did you go?” you asked, not taking your cheek off of the pillow where it sat, a hint of betrayal in your tone. It pierced his heart.
“I’m sorry.” he said.
Immediately, he fluffed the giant bear on top of you and wrapped the sloth’s arms around your shoulders, so when you turned, you were met with a mouthful of fluff.
He loved the sound. Your giggles were such a melody, and he loved it.
“Thanks, Bucky Bear. You really didn’t need to do this.”
“I wanted to.” he hugged both you and the stuffed animals, encompassing you in warm, strong arms. “I’m sorry I took a bit longer than I thought I would.”
“It’s okay. I missed you though.”
“I know, it’s okay. Come here.” he said, despite it being, literally, impossible for you to be any closer. “I love you.”
“Is... is that dark chocolate?”
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Use Me || Sam Wilson
Summary: Just a little drabble in which Sam just needs to destress.
Warnings: Fingering, teasing, a tinge of nipple play, palming (?), marking, mild language as per usual, & any and all typos are mine
A/N: On my Sam Wilson shit
Feeling the mattress dip behind her, Y/N exhaled contently. Her man was home and she couldn’t be any happier.
“How was it?”
Sam sighed at the sound of her voice, groggy and low as she’d just been woken from her slumber. Leaving her to go on missions caused an ache in his heart, but when he was with her, there was nothing else in the world to worry about.
“Fuckin’ stressful,” he mumbled, falling back onto the mattress.
His fingers plummeted into the duvet below him, his head landing on her backside. He hummed softly, taking in her scent.
To him, Y/N was a symbol of home. Her eyes, her lips, her scent, her. She was his home.
She rolled onto her back, his head flat in her lap. The room was dark, except for the city lights peering through the sheer blinds covering the windows of their shared bedroom.
“Wanna talk about it?”
He mindlessly played with her fingers, which were now seated right across his neck, her wrist draping at his Adam’s apple.
The simple croon of denial was enough to make her sit up, the straps of her silk teddy slipping down her denuded shoulder.
“How can I make you feel better, honey?”
The question was purely innocent but Sam’s eyes sparkled as they looked up at her bare state. When he sat up himself, Y/N merely giggled, his lips locked on hers in seconds.
“You already know what you can do, baby.”
Use me. The words threatened to spill from her mouth but it was a command that went along, regardless if spoken.
“Off,” he muttered into her mouth, his fingers tugging at the floozy garments.
She obliged quickly, the lilac fabric sliding off in no time. She sat naked before him, her fingers eagerly tugging at the collar of his shirt as his figure loomed over hers. His eyes fell to the hand that was traveling up his abdomen, scratching at the refined muscles sitting upon his chest before trailing to his back, marking the skin of his trapezius rather harshly.
Seeing her on her back, wanting to mark him as hers, truly drove him wild. He spared no time, lips sucking, teeth clamping, and tongue soothing over several spots on her skin.
He watched as she squirmed, one hand fondling her breast, thumb undulating her nipple, while the other palmed her cunt, the heel of his palm going at her clit. Garbled moans fell from her mouth, her head getting lost in the fluff of her pillow.
“That feel good, princess?”
She could only nod, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.
“I need you to speak, baby.”
His movements stopped abruptly, his palm flat on her cunt. It was embarrassing; clenching around nothing as he berated her for not mustering any words. His middle finger slowly circled her folds before finding her sweet bundle of nerves, pressing harshly as it wavered to and fro.
“Yes- fuck, Sam-“ her words were cut off, a flash of heat striking her core.
“Full sentences, baby.”
She took a second, biting down on her finger as his movements tantalized her.
“Feels so fucking good,” she moaned out, back arching off the bed once his ring finger joined the mix.
“That’s my good girl.”
Taglist: @ronbrokemyheart @quxxnxfhxll @eunoia-kth @siriuslyslyslytherin @dracomalfoys-wh0re @rudypankowisdaddy @tenaciousperfectionunknown @i-love-scott-mccall @justreadingficsdontmindme
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To Serve and Protect - Chapter 4
Pairing: AU!Bucky x Fem!Reader
Series summary: James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky for short, is an ex-cop turned social worker, forced to resign after witnessing a violent police brutality incident. Y/N is coming to terms with the fact that she is stuck in an abusive relationship. Bucky’s unsure why he’s so drawn to protect Y/N. All he knows is he’ll do whatever it takes.
Series warnings: emotional and physical abuse by intimate partner, police inflicted sexual violence and derogatory slurs against sex workers (sex work is work!), panic attacks, nightmares, general mental health struggles.
Rating: 18+ minors DNI! Graphic sexual violence, possibly some mild smut eventually; you have been warned.
Tag list: open! Just send me a note.
A/N: We made it through the backstories! Your reward is some angst followed by the beginnings of a buildup between our boy and reader (finally!). I promise the fluff-fest will begin in Chapter 5. Until then, heed the chapter warnings PLEASE.
Chapter 4 word count: 3.9K
Chapter warnings: sexual assault and physical assault by an intimate partner
Previous chapter | Next chapter
Y/N returned to an empty apartment after her appointment with Bucky. Brock wouldn’t be home from work until dinner time, so she took the opportunity to shower. Water as hot as she could bare rained from the high pressure head. She willed the stream to wash away the events of the day, and the weekend before that, and the weeks before that, and the years before that. She pleaded with the imaginary shower god until she was sobbing in a ball, hugging her knees to her chest as the impassive water rained on her back. She remained huddled on the shower floor until her throat was raw and her eyes bloodshot, the bathroom becoming a sauna.
When Brock came home, he had takeout from their favourite Thai restaurant in one arm and the most beautiful bouquet of dahlias in the other. In one fluid motion, he carefully dumped his gifts on the kitchen counter and pulled Y/N into his arms.
“I’m so sorry, babe. Please you have to believe me. I don’t know what got into me. Just all that stress at work with the merger and... I’m just so fucking sorry.” Then he created enough space between their embrace to look her in the eyes. “Can you forgive me?”
His gaze was almost as pained as hers. Against the advice of every screaming voice in her head, she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Oh thank god!” he exclaimed as he put both hands on her cheeks to kiss her.
She wanted to feel the relief that gives way to passion after a big fight. She searched for even a flicker. But all she found was an infinite void, a desert at nightfall with no oasis and no stars to guide her.
“I’m sorry,” she sighed, pulling her face away from his strong grip. “I just need some time. Is... is that ok?” she tested.
A flash of anger swept across Brock’s eyes, so subtle Y/N almost missed it, but it was quickly replaced with the intoxicating warmth she’d fallen for three years prior.
“Of course, babe. I know I messed up. I’m going to make it up to you, I swear.” He gave her another hug and then turned into the kitchen. He dished out their meal from the takeout boxes while she put the flowers in a vase. They ate in silence on the couch, watching their favourite show. That night, they fell asleep Brock's arms around Y/N, promising he’d wait as long it took for her to let him back in.
The couple carried on like that for the rest of the week. Y/N was grateful for some hard deadlines on a few manuscripts she was editing to distract her from the unease that simmered deep in her gut. She appreciated the flexibility and peace that being a freelance copy editor gave her. While it wasn’t the most glamorous work, it paid the bills and allowed her to set her own schedule.
When Friday rolled around, Y/N had submitted her final edits on the scheduled projects. She knew Brock’s firm was signing the merger today and he’d be in the mood to celebrate. She was mentally trying to prepare herself. She’d already placed an advanced order from their favourite pizza place and had stocked the fridge with her boyfriend’s favourite beer. But she knew he’d want more than that. Even though he said he’d give her as much time as she needed, there was always an expiration date with Brock.
Maybe it was the pressure she felt to get over the previous weekend’s incident. Maybe it was the stress of this week’s deadlines. Maybe it was hormones. Whatever the culprit, Y/N suddenly felt the onset of a severe pressure headache. “Fuck, of course,” she groaned. She shuffled to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and grabbed two extra strength Advil, downing them with water she cupped from the faucet. She decided to lie down until Brock got home, hoping the meds and some sleep would refresh her.
Instead Y/N awoke to the worst headache she’d had in a decade, just as Brock texted saying he was on his way home. “Fuuuuck,” she whimpered into her pillow. Lowering the brightness on her phone, she still had to squint to check the clock. The pizza would arrive in fifteen minutes and Brock would follow shortly after. She was out of time. So accustomed to putting her boyfriend first, Y/N dragged herself off of the bed and attempted to freshen up.
Brock noticed the pizza on the counter, as he grabbed a beer from the fridge immediately after entering the apartment. “Babe?” he called out once he had downed half the bottle in one swig. “Where are you? The merger went through! It’s Friday! It’s time to celebrate!”
Y/N had gone to take another dose of pain relievers and stumbled out of the washroom.
“There you are! I’m so fucking glad this merger is done.” He waited for her to come to him as he leaned against the counter. “Thanks for the pizza and beer. Best girlfriend ever,” he praised, oblivious to her clear malaise as he kissed her neck then moved up to her lips. Parting them with his tongue, he increased his force and Y/N had to pull away, feeling nauseous from the pain.
“What the fuck, babe?” he scoffed. “C’mon, Y/N, it’s been a week. You said you forgave me,” he grumbled, downing the other half of his beer.
“I’m sorry, I just have the worst headache. I swear I’m not making it up. I know it’s horrible timing. We were supposed to celebrate. I tried taking pain killers, drinking water, napping. I’m just… I need to lie down.”
“Well I could lie down with you,” he suggested, his libido ignoring her appeal. “I bet I could make you feel better.” He wrenched her towards him with one hand firm on her lower back while the other moved up to squeeze her breast, returning his lips forcefully to hers, the taste of malt oozing from his tongue.
She moaned in discomfort and attempted to pull away again, though it was much harder this time. “Brock, please, I really can’t right now,” she pleaded, finally breaking free.
That was the last straw. Unfurling his embrace, he shoved Y/N into the wall with enough force the impact winded her. As she choked for air, he was yelling but she couldn’t hear his words. His lips were moving. She saw the fire in his darkened eyes, the veins bulging from his forehead and his face turned a shade of crimson that appeared only at his angriest moments. But she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Suddenly the back of his hand connected with her cheek, accompanied by a “fucking bitch,” and her hearing came wooshing back. Her ears were ringing as Brock slammed the door to their bedroom. Trembling fingers slowly grazed her prickling face.
Moving around the apartment in a trance, Y/N filled a duffle bag with some clean clothes still waiting to be folded in the laundry room. Then throwing her toothbrush and other essentials on top, she zipped it closed, grabbed her coat, slipped on her shoes, and left the apartment without a second look.
Something had snapped in her and an eerie calm seeped into every crevice of her being. She barely registered the walk, coming to only as the door buzzed after pressing the button for Wanda’s apartment.
Wanda had immediately gone to the freezer to grab an ice pack after opening her door to Y/N. Handing it to her friend, now seated cross-legged on her couch (again), the redhead lost her patience. “Y/N, I’m not going to sit here and watch him slowly break you one piece at a time. I’ve sat back and let you take this at your pace, but I just can’t anymore. What kind of friend would I be if I let you go back to him? So you can hate me if you want, but--”
“I’m not going back.”
“Oh.” Wanda fell silent.
“It’s done. I can’t go back. I don’t love him anymore. I think I haven’t for a long time. I just didn’t want to be alone. But alone would be better than this. Anything would be better than this.” Her glazed eyes searching beyond everything in their path -- for what, she couldn't say.
“Can I put my arms around you?” Wanda asked softly. Y/N nodded and her friend pulled her into an embrace as she held the ice to her cheek.
The pair sat like that until Y/N’s eyes began to droop. Wanda gently pulled the ice pack from her friend’s hand and guided her to the spare bed. Then she laid down next to her and held her until Y/N’s breathing evened out. Not long after, Wanda drifted off, tear tracks streaking her cheeks.
Wanda gripped Y/N’s hand as she flipped casually through a magazine with the other. She had insisted on taking the day off to accompany Y/N to meet Bucky this time. The redhead had forced her friend to call the social worker first thing Monday morning. She wasn’t going to let Y/N wait two weeks until the next appointment.
“Y/N, I won’t let you go back on what you said.”
“I know, I know. But can’t you please just call him for me? I lied to him, Wanda. I fucking lied to my social worker, god.” Y/N whined, her face in her hands.
“Hun, I’m sure he’ll understand why you weren’t ready to talk about yourself fresh out the gate. You said yourself you were sure knew you were lying anyways!” She picked up Y/N’s cellphone to pass to her. “It has to be you. This must be so fucking hard, and I’ll hold your hand through every step. But it has to be you taking the steps.”
“Ugh, I hate when you’re right,” she muttered, reluctantly taking the phone from her friend.
It turned out that Bucky’s morning had been free of meetings. He’d assured it was no problem to fit Y/N in and suggested they keep the other appointment, just in case. Y/N hadn’t found the courage to come clean on the phone, resigning herself to admit her error in person. Now the two friends sat in the waiting area of the community centre, one loose and nonchalant, the other taught and high strung.
“Hun, I can feel the tension radiating off you,” Wanda pointed out without shifting her gaze from the magazine. “Take a breath, will you? You’re not the first one to come in here bruised and confused. Nothing to be ashamed of. You’ll be fine.”
“Wanda!” Y/N chastised through her gritted teeth, mortified at her friend’s declaration.
She exhaled long and slow. And again. During the third round she heard the gruff voice in front of her. “Y/N? Nice to see you again.”
Y/N’s eyes met Bucky’s and every last molecule of air vacated her lungs as she registered the beautiful man standing before her for a second time. Dark hair, trimmed on the sides while slightly longer and tousled on top. A scruffy shadow around his chiseled jawline, too short to be a full beard but long enough to look intentional. She was drowning in the pools of his cerulean irises, a tidal wave threatening to pull her under completely.
Not missing a beat, Wanda cleared her throat and squeezed her friend's hand before releasing it. The action brought Y/N back to the surface. Suddenly she was on dry land, dazed by the elemental exquisiteness that had just washed over her.
“I’m Wanda, I’m Y/N’s friend here for support,” not hesitating to offer her hand to introduce herself and adding a coy smile.
Bucky took her hand firmly. “Nice to meet you, Wanda.” Then glancing between the two friends he asked, “So, do you both want to come in? Or…”
“Haaahh, yeah, about that,” Y/N chimed in, finding her voice again. “No it’s, the appointment is for me.” Her cheeks flushed as she stared at her sneakers and rubbed her forehead, still stunned slightly.
“Got it, no problem. Y/N, if you want to follow me then?” Bucky grinned softly at both of them, turning towards his office. Don’t fuck this up, Barnes. Remember you’re her social worker. You’re here to help. You can help her. You got this.
“I’ll be right here when you’re done, hun,” Wanda encouraged, placing a platonic peck on her friend’s temple and nudging her to follow the sculpted man. She made a mental note to tease her friend about the almost unbearable hotness of the social worker and the obvious crush she had on him later.
“Are you good if I close the door all the way, or would you prefer I leave it open a crack?” He proposed, gesturing from the doorway for Y/N to sit before he fully entered the room.
“Closed is fine, thank you,” she responded meekly as she took the same seat she had one week prior.
Once the handle clicked shut, Bucky settled behind his desk and grabbed Y/N’s file folder, pen in hand.
“I’m really glad you called, Y/N.” His eyes crinkled as his lips curled at the corners ever so slightly. “Why don’t you tell me what’s happened since we last met. And take your time, you’re my only meeting this morning,” he assured her.
Y/N traced circles on the back of her hand while organizing her thoughts. Just tell him the truth. No big deal. He’s so patient. Those eyes. Ugh! Focus, Y/N, focus!
“Well, first off I need to apologize.” She tried to meet Bucky’s gaze but aborted that mission as soon as she’d locked on to the target.
“Apologize?” Bucky’s eyebrows raised, not having the slightest idea what Y/N could have done to warrant an apology.
“For lying. When I came here last week, I told you I needed resources for a friend, but clearly it’s for me.” She chuckled nervously pointing at the maroon discolouration on her cheekbone from Friday night’s blow.
“Ohhh Y/N, there is absolutely no need to apologize for that. I mean it.” His lips offered her a warm smile. “You are not the first person hoping to maintain some sense of privacy when looking for resources from a social worker.”
Bucky noted Y/N sigh in relief and he congratulated himself on the small victory.
“Huh... I suppose when you put it that way, it doesn’t seem like such a big deal after all,” she accepted.
“There are a lot of heavy emotions that come with asking for help in domestic situations,” the social worker continued warmly. “It’s complex and everyone deals with it differently. The important thing to remember is you are not alone. You’ve taken such a huge step for yourself, for your safety, by coming here today. You can be proud of that, Y/N.”
Her stomach fluttered at his encouragement. “Thanks, it’s a lot of emotions, that’s for sure,” she confirmed with a timorous tone. “I guess, I just don’t know how this all works.” Y/N gestured her hands to emphasize the word. “I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.” The brightness faded from her eyes, overtaken by doubt.
“Well that’s where I come in,” he reassured earnestly. “If you’re feeling ready, we could start by running through a standard questionnaire that helps me assess your specific situation. It will guide us towards what kind of assistance might fit you best. And then we can go from there. How does that sound?”
Y/N didn’t know how it was possible, but Bucky’s gravelly voice wrapped her in a cocoon of safety, dispelling every fear that bounced around her brain. She nodded, attempting to return some of the warmth he was beaming towards her.
“I’m ready,” she replied.
Y/N helped stack the chairs in the small multipurpose room at the community centre. It was her fourth group session, and one month since her second appointment with Bucky. The group therapy for survivors of abuse had been Bucky’s first suggestion for Y/N. It was a weekly meeting and he encouraged her to try it, explaining how hearing others who have gone through similar experiences might aid in processing her own.
He’d also helped her navigate changing her phone number and removing herself from shared utilities, and had connected her to an organization that helps women move out of living situations that are no longer safe. All of her belongings were now in storage while she crashed in Wanda’s spare room. The only thing left was to find an apartment, which Wanda was adamant about there being no rush.
Waving goodnight to the psychologist who led the group, Y/N entered the long hallway of the west wing that led towards the exit. Just as she was about to turn into the waiting area, the familiar door with the J.B. Barnes plaque swung open and Bucky nearly stumbled into her.
“Y/N! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” The flustered social worker blurted out, nearly dropping his leather messenger bag tucked precariously under his arm.
“Bucky! I didn’t expect to see you here so late! I, uh, group just finished.” Y/N replied, equally caught off guard by the surprise run-in with the dark haired man.
“Right, it’s Thursday! How are you liking it? Shit, you don’t have to answer that if you’re not comfortable. Jeez, Bucky, boundaries. Sorry, it’s been a long day.” He babbled as he locked the door to his office.
Y/N chuckled at his sweetness, comforted by his sincere concern for her situation. “Oh god, please, you’re fine! It’s going really good actually. I mean, it’s draining sometimes. But it’s been so affirming to be with people who get it. To not have to explain everything.”
He nodded, relieved at her willingness to share. “I’m so glad to hear that,” he said as the two headed towards the main doors leading outside.
“Wow, what a nice night,” Bucky exclaimed, stepping out into the softness of late spring at dusk.
“Mmmhmm,” Y/N agreed. They both paused on the steps, neither wanting the chance encounter to end yet not knowing how to prevent the inevitable.
They started at the same moment and immediately broke into laughter.
“Please, you first,” Bucky ceded.
“Oh no, I insist,” Y/N lobbed the ball back to his court.
“I was just going to ask if you wanted to walk home together, that is, I mean if you were planning on walking home. Shit, I don’t even know what direction you live in, I guess that would have been a good question to start with. Oh boy, I’m rambling...” Bucky’s metal hand instinctively began rubbing the back of his neck. Holy shit, Barnes, what are you doing?!
“I’m staying at Wanda’s,” Y/N interjected. “She lives east, about thirty minutes from here. And yes, I was going to walk. I’d love some company if that’s the way you’re headed,” she added with an ease that had always been foreign to her in social situations, until now.
Bucky’s entire body relaxed and he slung his bag over his left shoulder. “Well, sounds like we’re going in the same direction then. Shall we?” With that, the two started off in an oddly comfortable silence.
A few blocks into their evening stroll, Y/N mustered the courage to dig a bit. “I’ve been wanting to ask you, but I wasn't sure if it was appropriate. You don’t have to answer if it isn’t! I know I shouldn’t be prying into--”
“You want to ask about this?” Bucky raised his left arm and gave a royal wave with his metal hand.
The rose intensified on Y/N’s cheeks as she responded with a sheepish chuckle, “yeah.”
“Don’t worry. People get weird about it sometimes, but I’d rather them be direct if they’re curious.” Y/N’s shoulder’s loosened and Bucky continued. “I used to be a police officer, before working at the centre. I’d wanted to be a policeman since primary school. But my mom raised us to always have a backup plan, so I got my degree in social work first. Figured it would only help make me a better cop. Anyways, turns out mom’s are always right and the backup plan came in handy. No pun intended. Thanks, mom,” Bucky gave a two-metal-fingered salute.
Y/N smirked at his wit. “So you were injured on the job, then?” she pressed.
“Yeah,” Bucky’s hand found its way to the back of his neck again.
“You don’t have to talk about it. Sorry, I shouldn’t have pried,” she extended, picking up on his nervous tick.
“No no, it’s fine. It’s just, I guess I grew up seeing the world one way and then all it took was a few seconds and suddenly the curtains were pulled back, revealing how it actually was. I couldn’t unsee it. So I resigned from the force and became a social worker. My life story in a nutshell,” Bucky sighed quietly.
Y/N nodded in understanding. She’d read countless articles about defunding the police. She knew how flawed the justice system was. She assumed that’s what he was alluding to.
It was comforting to see this thoughtful side of Bucky. Something softened in her as he offered these glimpses into his past. She relished the opportunity to build a deeper rapport with this man who genuinely seemed to want to help her. Knowing about Bucky on a more personal level made their relationship less one-sided, alleviating some of the pressure from Y/N.
“That must have been hard, to just lose everything you’d built your life around.”
“It was, but not because I lost that childhood naivety. It was devastating that I couldn’t change things. I witnessed a horrendous display of police brutality. Then I was set up to take the fall, literally,” waving his prosthetic again. “When I refused to tow the blue line, well, there was no going up against that beast.”
Bucky exhaled as a weight he didn’t realize he had been carrying evaporated into the mild night air. “I can’t fix what happened -- accepting that has been a work in progress. But my therapist says I’m getting good at it so there’s that at least.” Bucky added sarcastically and Y/N laughed at his self-deprecating humour.
He’s not sure how his brain allowed the notion to manifest, but suddenly Bucky was willing to do anything to hear that angelic sound again and again. Watch it, Barnes. This is dangerous territory. Abort now.
“Well, this is me,” Y/N interrupted his thoughts from going further as they approached Wanda’s building. “Thanks for the walk tonight, Bucky. And for sharing. It was nice to have the spotlight on someone else’s life for a change,” she joked.
“Thank you for the company. You saved me from my inner monologue, which I assure you is not nearly as riveting as my vague rehashing of past traumas.”
Y/N laughed again. She was enjoying this side of Bucky. A lot.
“Goodnight, Bucky. See you soon,” she waved shyly.
“Yes you will. Goodnight, Y/N.” Bucky walked the rest of the way to his apartment, lighter than he’d felt in months.
Tag list: @jo-ha-nna @vicmc624 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @txssellate- @intothesoul @leyannrae
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enemies to lovers
bucky and reader start to come to terms with certain feelings
not a tearjerker, but fun anyway :)
reader has period pain
bucky is really doing the most
bucky = caring domestic boyfriend
clueless bucky <3
bucky = clueless about crushes
you = enhanced
bucky hates your boyfriend
you hate your boyfriend
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Salt (Bucky x Reader)
Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader
Word Count: 2156
Warnings: Suicidal tendencies, knives, guns, meanie Bucky
A/N: Uhm... yeah okay, enjoy. Please don’t copy, translate, or post on this platform other platforms.
Summary: Bucky and Reader don’t like each other. They never have. Right?
“Just give it a shot.” Steve pleaded with his old pal, patting him on the shoulder.
Bucky let out a deep sigh, and reluctantly nodded his head at Steve, contemplating any upcoming life choices.
It’s not that Bucky didn’t like you; he didn’t love you, that was for sure. He just thought that you were too nice for him. How could someone so sunshine be partners with someone so moonlight?
You and Bucky were opposites. You always had been. Bucky ran, you walked; Bucky sped up, you slowed down; Bucky left, you stayed. Nothing ever seemed to be in sync.
More than that, Bucky had always been rather rude to you. You didn’t know why. As far as you could remember, you hadn’t done anything to piss the man off, so why was he such a jerk to you?
After a week of practical bullying, you decided that staying as far away from James Buchanan Barnes was the best option for you. As long as he was out of a nine foot radius, there was little chance of a snide remark or daily critique.
On the other side of the hallway, you laid on your bed, listening to some sad CD on the 2000’s player. You knew it was useless, but something about the nostalgia made you cling onto the silver sphere of music.
“Y/N, mission. Suit up.” Steve knocked on the door like a military commander.
Steve had already told you about that plan, and to say you weren’t trilled, was an understatement.
You detested Bucky Barnes with a burning passion in your soul.Every time you see him, you want to pull out that stupid, sexy, perfect vampire tooth that flashes when he smiles.
It all started on your first mission together, when you were too tired to stay up the entire night.
“I’m ignoring you.”
“Then open your eyes or admit that I have to look out for both of us because you can’t.”
You were too stubborn to admit to a certain brown-haired super soldier that you were sleepy. I mean, who knows how much sleep he’d been getting?
Long story short, a bomb was set outside, and Bucky ended up covering your ass by carrying you all the way to the compound, and insisting that he would finish the mission himself. By the time you woke up, he was off killing Hydra agents on his own.
“Come on, quienjet leaves in 10.”
You reluctantly pulled out your earbuds, having no sleep from the night before. This mission was gonna be hell, and you weren’t looking forward to it.
You sighed deeply, stretching your arms overhead, and reaching for the tactical suit you had laid over the foot of your bed.
The suit consisted of dark green cargo pants and a tight black turtleneck with long sleeves. It almost reminded you of Kim Possible.
In a matter of 8 minutes, you were seated in the jet, across from the staring asshole you hated so much. He had such a staring problem, you wanted to pry his eyes out whenever you felt them directed on you.
“Stop staring.” you grumbled under your breath, avoiding eye contact and huffing.
You leaned your head back over the seat, the irritation of the ride already causing a kink in the low region of your neck.
You hated that he was staring, no doubt mentally pointing out every single one of the flaws you had.
“Jarvis, play something soft.” You asked the A.I., desperate to get just a little bit more shut-eye.
“Jarvis, play rock music.”
“OKAY, THAT’S IT! IF YOU WANT ME TO DO WELL ON THIS MISSION, AND NOT MURDER YOU, THEN YOU WILL LET ME SLEEP FOR FIVE MINUTES!” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance.
For once in your life, James Buchanan Barnes finally shut up. He sat quietly while rock music started to play, and you actually felt sick to your stomach.
You hadn’t slept in days; music seemed to be the only thing that was helping to even calm you to the tipping point of sleep.
You clenched your jaw, staring back with fiery eyes, the storming off to the back of the jet. You heard a very brief “Jarvis, stop.”
You felt like a baby, balling your eyes out in the back of a mission flyer. It was so stupid to be crying about some music, but you just couldn’t help it. You were stressed.
You joined the team two months ago, and it’s not that you weren’t settling in fine. Everyone else seemed to get along with you, and vice versa, but Bucky. Bucky was something else. Being on a mission with him was the very last thing that you needed right now.
“We’re here...” a husky voice murmured from behind you, and you could tell that his stocky figure wasn’t planning on moving anytime soon. “Sorry.”
You wanted to turn and face him, but he’d definitely see your red face and watery eyes, so you didn’t bother. Staring at your combat boots seemed to be the best option.
Bucky felt horrible. He’d never been the closest with you, but he didn’t mean to make you snap at him like that. He waited for you to look at him, but maybe he really did go too far this time.
The moment his super-soldier ear picked up on a sniff, he knew he’d done it. He fucked up, and your meltdown was the result of all his abuse.
“Are you crying?”
You very hastily walked past him, picking out your gun of choice from the shelf, and hopping out of the back exit. Most of it was in haste so he couldn’t see your crybabyish tendencies.
Bucky sighed. He wanted you to be happy. He hated the fact that he was the reason you were even more stressed now than you were at the compound.
He’d been watching you slowly rip yourself apart every night, but being a stealth assassin, you’d never know. He watched as your tried to calm your nerves with tea and dark chocolates, then plug in your earbuds. God, he hated himself for playing that stupid rock music. Why didn’t he think before the words came out of his mouth? He was putting you in more danger if you weren’t aware enough to do this mission.
He jumped out of the exit of the jet shortly after, knives in both pockets, and a handgun in the left palm. “Y/N—”
You were gone. You ran down a flight of stairs, after a Hydra agent. Bucky followed, switching on him comms system, so he could hear if you were in danger.
Around the corner, you were busy shooting a soldier in the shoulder, and running down the hall, to where you’d found more specialized weapons. “Barnes, status.”
“Uh—looking for you.”
“When you get to the main floor, turn to—”
Your words dwindled off, and Bucky panicked. You might not have been best friends, but you were still on this mission as partners, and it was his responsibility to be looking out for you. “Y/N?”
Meanwhile, you were busy being dragged to a cell, chains being attached to your wrists in a highly uncomfortable manner. You weren’t out yet. Sure, everything was a little fuzzy, but you could still hear a little bit, and see the general stature of two bulky men. If you didn’t know where you were, you’d think it were Bucky and Steve.
“Y/N?!” a panicked voice rushes straight through your ears, tingling your brain cells with waves of hate and want. You want him to save you, but you don’t want him to have to save you.
You take in the deepest inhale you can, a taste of metallic stench nearing the front of your throat.
Your senses feel overwhelmed, like a needle prick would feel like a sword stabbing your. Your arms burn with fire in the places where the two Hydra men squeeze to keep you in place.
Bucky picks up his pace, trying desperately to search for you on this concrete slab of a building. His feet are growing numb from the amount of running he’s doing, and he can hear his heart running double time in his ears, pounding against his rib cage, but he doesn’t stop.
The voice is ripped away when a Hydra man stomps on the earpiece. You’ve never felt so pathetic and useless. You’ve never wanted to see Bucky’s stupid face, more than you do right now.
“Please...” you managed to croak out, fighting with the restraints hoisting you to the wall, in a weak attempt to escape. The door is locked shut, and suddenly you find the feeling of giving up to be a horribly sane idea.
This was Hydra. If they wanted you dead, it was probably better than whatever else they would do to you. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your eyes open, now in the wake of sudden sadness. You were surprised at how easily someone could turn suicidal.
The building was small enough that Bucky should’ve found you by now, but hadn’t. Whoever had you was moving you, and he didn’t know where. That stresssed him out.
Well, that was a clue. Bucky sprinted at the sound of a piercing scream, which he knew belonged to you.
If you were hazy before, you were more than lively now. You flesh burned where blood now spilled from your thigh. The knife continued to slice slowly through your skin, leg held down my two men and the drugs. “Please... please.” you wailed.
You thought you were going crazy. You thought they took you out of this building. You thought he was gone. You thought you would die.
“Y/N!” Bucky screamed again, hoping you would say something, so he could find you at least.
You tried, you really did. It’s too hard to scream against a hand blocking all of your breathing passages. You struggled to take in air while the knife dragged gently to your throat, the top piercing into your skin. A whince escaped your throat, and you tried to squirm away.
“Deal with him.” one of the men punched the other, finally removing his sweaty palm from your lips. You felt disgusted at the salty taste of salt stuck on your lips. The man pulled on the retraints, lifting your arms overhead, and leaving the cell to help his fellow soldier.
You hated him. But you couldn’t help but to worry for Bucky. They were going after him because of you. If he got hurt, it was your fault.
“BUCKY!” you screamed, squirming around the floor, where you were sure rats lived before you did. “BUCKY!”
“I’M COMING, DOLL! KEEP YELLING!”
And so, you did. You screamed until your throat was dry, and all that could come out was a whisper. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t feel.
“Y/N!” suddenly, the voice was closer. Lifting your head, you watched Bucky break the lock off of your cell door, his right hand coated in blood, over his split knuckles.
“Come on, come on, come on.” he chanted to himself, finally getting through the door to pick you up.
So close. You’d never been so close to him. When his face was seen from here, you could admire it. At least if you were going to bleed out, you’d get to look at those dark greyish blue eyes in your last moments. You’d never noticed his freckles either. They were so small that you needed to be so close to see them without a microscope.
Bucky noticed you staring. It wasn’t a blank stare, but he couldn’t tell what it was. He was too concerned to make some snarky remark or comment. “Are you okay?”
“You care about me now?” you whispered, sharpened, struggled tones in your voice. If you’d said it any quieter, Bucky wouldn’t have heard the pain in your voice.
“I’ve always cared about you.”
You tried to laugh without pain searing through your core. It was good to know that Bucky had somewhat of a heart. He would tell you a white lie in your late moments of life—or what felt like it.
“You hate me, Barnes.”
“I don’t hate you.”
Bucky struggled with his feelings, scared that he would lose you on that horrible idea you had swimming around your head.
“I pushed you away. I’ve been pushing you away.” he says, clutching onto you tightly.
“I didn’t want to hurt you. You—you were so good to me, and I couldn’t be like that for you.”
“You’re just saying—”
Passion. Savouring. Longing. Burning. That’s what it felt like. Bucky pressed his chapped lips onto your’s, warming your slightly swollen bottom lip.
You were shocked, everything inside of you was confused, but that was the problem with hating. Hating, so close to loving. Both are painful, both are risky, and both have a nearly unbreakable bond. “C-could you taste the salt?” you tried to joke, a single tear slipping down your cheek.
“Yeah.” he pressed his lips against your’s again.
Beeping. That was the first thing you heard. A slightly uncomfortable bed, and a blue gown. Was it all a dream? You asked yourself, reaching for your thigh.
“We should probably talk, Doll.”
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sleep kink sleep kink sleep kink! Pls and thank you 😌
𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲
pairing || stepdad!sam x fem!reader
word count || 1,839
warnings || sleeping kink — consensual, dub-con, nipple play, sex with stepdad, pussy play if you squint, blackmail, anal, mentions of partying and being drunk, name calling, rough sam, cheating on bf, mention of sleeping pills
authors note || PLEASE REBLOG MY TAGLIST IS ENDING ON JULY 10TH PLEASE FOLLOW @dulceslibrary AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS TO BE NOTIFIED WHEN I POST 18+ ONLY,, feedback is appreciated
𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 | 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑
The idea of being fucked while sleeping is not an unknown fantasy, and yet it made you feel ashamed. What kind of woman fantasized about being taken without her permission? You understood the specifics of the fantasy, it was just about as bad as fantasizing about rape, though perhaps more appealing because it was less violent and consensual between you and your partner. No matter what the reason, it was a fantasy you held dear and one that you used often when masturbating herself to sleep. Despite the pleasure it brought you, you never believed you would experience the perfect thrill of it.
You had attempted to play it out once with your boyfriend and he had been more than willing. However, the knowledge that you both knew you were awake and the fact that he would never do anything you did not want him to, made it much less effective. So, you had told him how much you liked it, encouraged him to play with you while sleeping whenever he got the urge, and let it go. That had been about two years ago, and you were pretty sure he had forgotten about the specific fantasy because he never seemed to try it out. You supposed it was possible that he had done it, but that you had slept through it. You had finally given up on the whole thing when you caught yourself debating using sleeping pills and a camera to record the adventure. Enough was enough.
That is why when you first began to wake up to feel hands on your tits, you had kept your eyes closed. If he was willing to play the game again, you were not going to be the one to ruin it. You had been out partying most of the night and both had been much too drunk to drive. You suddenly remembered that you called your stepdad, Sam, to pick you up and that you weren’t in your bed but instead on the living room floor of the house. You felt your shirt being lifted up, exposing your tits, and wondered if you should tell your boyfriend to stop. What if Sam came out of his bedroom and found you exposed like this?
The idea turned you on more, though you would never admit that to anyone. That was the best part about this though, He thought you were sleeping and thus you had no responsibility for what he was doing. You sighed softly and felt the hands pull away. After several long minutes in which you almost fell back to sleep, the hands returned. His fingers played over your tits, and you felt him pinch your nipple. He did it lightly, and then again harder. The third time he did it you had to bite back a moan of pain. He was being rather rough tonight, something you did not normally allow. His hands cupped your tits and began to play with them steadily, growing bolder as you slept through his treatment.
He continued to play with your tits for what seemed like a really long time, pinching and kissing your nipples, nibbling on them and sucking them. It took a lot of effort not to grind your hips in the air; you really wanted him to touch you more. You heard a deep snore near your head and the hands and mouth pulled away again. You could feel the air touching your highly sensitive nipples and you wanted to scream in frustrated need. You let one eye slowly peek out to see who was snoring on the floor near you, to your shock you saw it was your boyfriend, he was passed out not two feet away. The hands returned to your tits and you closed your eye quickly, if it wasn't him fondling you, who was it?
The hands began to travel down your belly and caught on the band of your pants. You felt his hands fumble with the button and then begin to inch your pants down. You lay there completely aroused and unsure of what to do. You should demand he stop, open your eyes and catch him. That would ruin the game though and you were very horny now. You could just keep pretending to sleep you realized. There would be nothing you could do, and you would have no control over what happened. This idea appealed to you and while a small sober voice told you, you were being stupid, you silenced it to let the moaning drunk voice take over.
The hands pulled your pants down carefully, it seemed to take forever, and you had to fight the urge to lift your hips to help him. You needed him to touch you so badly, but there was nothing you could do to make that happen.
"My God," a husky male voice, was it Sam? "You are fucking wet." You felt his finger press against the wet spot on your panties and you flushed in shame. You prayed it was too dark to see the color blaze through your cheeks. The hand pressed tightly against your pussy again, and then moved up to slip them down your thighs as well. After what seemed like forever, you were laying there with no pants or panties, and your shirt pulled up against your shoulders. You felt him spread your thighs carefully, and then felt his knee settle between them. The pressure of his knee against your pussy made you grind slightly against him though you quickly managed to control herself.
"You are a horny little slut, aren't you? Even in your sleep?" He whispered in your ear, and you shivered slightly. Then he began to kiss your neck. He left a trail of hot kisses down your neck, against your shoulder bone, and down to your breasts. You felt him breathing on your nipple a moment before he took it in his mouth.
The pleasure was unbearable, and you were sure you would betray yourself soon. Then he carefully bit down. At first, he bit you gently, testing to see if you would wake up. Then he bit harder. The pleasure turned into pain, and you realized you were clenching your hands. He continued to bite you harder until the pleasure was gone and it was just pain. Still, you remained still with your eyes closed. It felt wonderful to have no choice in how he used you and you did not want to ruin the game. Your boyfriend would never hurt you like this, and that shameful thought made you even more aroused.
"You must be really drunk." He whispered, finally letting go of your tender nipple. He brushed his finger over the aching tip and then licked it gently. The soothing touches helped you to control the pain and accept the pleasure.
You spent the next fifteen minutes screaming in your head for him to fuck you, but he spent the time playing with your tits. He must really like them because he made sure to touch, kiss, lick, and nibble them fully. Finally, his hand crawled down your stomach and rested against your pussy. You thrusted hard against him before you could stop herself and you heard him laugh softly.
"Needy, are we?" He questioned and you wondered if he knew you woke up. "Fine, might as well give sleeping beauty her desire." You felt him spread your thighs more and settle both legs between then. You could feel his legs against your own and realized he was not wearing pants. A moment later he was lifting your hips up, lifting you up by hooking his arms under your knees, and you could feel the head of his cock against your wet slit. He thrust in slowly and you exploded right away. You struggled to keep silent, to continue pretending to sleep, but your pussy pulsed against him, and your hips pressed forward.
He fucked you like that for a long time, his thrusts strong and slow. He brought you off again and again, sometimes with just the slow thrusts of his cock, other times by pressing his finger against your clit and rubbing it in soft circles. He continued to torture your tits, leaning forward to bite them and making your gasp. When you were finally feeling satisfied, and curious about his own lack of orgasm, you relaxed. You felt him pull out and then lifted you higher. He pressed the head of his cock, very wet with your juices, to your asshole. You wanted to stop him and debating pretending to wake up now. Anal was not something you thought about and you did not want to pretend to sleep while he fucked your ass. You were just getting ready to stop him when he began to whisper in your ear.
"I know your awake honey, but I'm willing to pretend that you aren't." Your breath caught in her chest, and you wondered if you should continue to pretend. "I saw your eyes open more than once and no one can fuck that well while sleeping. That's fine with me but now I'm going to fuck your ass and I'm not going to be gentle. You're going to let me, because otherwise I might have to let your boyfriend know that you've been such a naughty little whore and you let your stepdad fuck you. Do you understand?" You didn't answer him. You were much too afraid to.
He slowly pushed the head of his cock into your ass and you bit your lip in pain. This was not something she had done and the pain that flushed through you made you feel hot. You did not fight him though, fearful of the consequences, as he took his pleasure from you. He had been telling the truth about not being gentle, his cock rammed into your ass hard and you could feel his balls slapping against you. He fucked you hard and you could feel tears squeezing out from behind closed lids. It didn't last long; his cock had been teased by your pussy for a long time. He came hard, filling your asshole with his cum. He pulled away slowly and set you back onto the floor. You waited to see what he would do next, but he merely left you there fully exposed. You heard him stand up and the sound of a zipper. He was getting dressed. You expected him to go back to the bedroom but was shocked to hear the front door open and close. Seeing the lights to his car turn on as he drove away.
You lay there for a few more minutes, feeling the dull ache in your ass. You reached down and softly touched yourself, surprised to see how wet you were. Then your carefully pulled your shirt down, found your panties and pants and got dressed. Once you ere decent you pressed your very sore tits against your boyfriends back and fell asleep.
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[Arc 1] [Arc 2] [Previous]
Description: Back in New York, Alex sits face to face with Markus for the last time. Whilst coming to terms with the fact she'll never see him again, Alex seeks comfort from Steve. Interesting revelations bring about a new avenue of exploration for the team as they pursue Loki's sceptre and try to put an end to Hydra's human experimentation.
Warning(s): mild language, mild violence, a brief discussion of past trauma and abuse, symptoms of PTSD, insomnia, some fluffiness to make everyone feel better, if I missed anything lmk!
WHEN STEVE AND ALEX EVENTUALLY MADE IT BACK TO NEW YORK, IT WAS WELL AFTER DARK. Alex was travel-weary but determined to at least find out how they managed to get Markus. Pepper was there to greet them both in the lobby and welcomed them back with firm hugs.
"Where is he?" Alex questioned as they reached Tony's lounge.
"In one of the basement levels - but Alex, you should probably eat and get some sleep first okay?" She shook her head and remained set in her ways.
"No, I'm seeing him tonight. Right now -"
"Alex -" Steve tried to interject, but she wasn't going to be swayed on the matter.
"Look, I'm gonna do it with or without your permission, I just wanna know where he is." With sighs of defeat, both Steve and Tony ran their hands through their hair and stepped out of her way.
"Sub-Basement Two. Holding Room Five," Tony informed her just before she could get in the elevator. Steve appeared at her side whilst Tony and Pepper talked over their plans for dinner.
"I'm coming with you," he stated gently and Alex didn't fight it. As they stepped into the elevator, Alex cleared her throat.
"Just so you're aware, there are things I'm going to say when I see him... Things that I wouldn't ever dream of saying otherwise," she warned and Steve nodded in understanding.
"I can respect that. I won't tell anyone. Promise."
"Thank you." When they reached the right floor and eventually found the room, Steve assured the security guard on duty it was okay to let them in. Alex shadow-stepped inside the confined space and was greeted with a haggard Markus handcuffed at the wrists and waist. A few stainless steel chairs were stacked in the far corner. Her entrance startled him but he was quick to recover as Steve opened the door and joined them.
"What a lovely surprise. I thought you were dead," he stated simply with a glint in his eyes.
"Wishful thinking. The tables sure have turned, huh? Never thought I'd see the day where you were the one in handcuffs and I was free to come and go," Alex replied smoothly and pulled a chair over. She turned it around so she sat on it back to front and leaned forward against the backrest.
"This is only temporary, Little Lamb." Her skin crawled and her lip curled in disgust.
"I'm sure it is. But I'm going to enjoy this whilst it lasts. The Raft is a pretty gnarly place, Markus. Can't imagine them taking kindly to the likes of you." With an insincere pout, Markus put a hand over his heart and tipped his head to the side.
"You wound me, Lamb. You should be thanking me."
"Thanking you? For what? Torturing me? Almost killing me?! Tell me what it is I should be grateful for because I'm having a hard time seeing any benefits of my time with you," Alex challenged, temper simmering. The light flickered overhead.
"Without me, you wouldn't have discovered your gift. Your... Higher purpose." From his position near the door, Steve crossed his arms over his chest and adjusted his stance slightly.
"You can stand down, Captain. I'm not exactly in any position to hurt her, am I?" Steve remained unwavering in his vigilance and Alex appreciated that.
"He's not here to protect me," Alex informed him with a borderline-sinister smile.
"Let's phrase it this way, Markus. I'm not trapped in a room with you. You're trapped in a room with me." His facade faltered and he blanched at the realisation.
"You and your powers have grown quite a bit since I last saw you, Little Lamb - sorry - Phantom," Markus eventually spoke up again and Alex cleared her throat.
"Yeah. Walking through walls is a party trick now -"
"I bet it is. You're still in your early stage of development," he interjected and it was Alex's turn to figure out what he meant.
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh - you didn't think that was it, did you? My sweet, naive child, there are layers to your abilities. Complexities and nuances that need to be mastered in order to remain in control of them." Panic dripped down her spine as Alex cast a glance at Steve. He gave her a reassuring nod and she turned back to face Markus.
"Remain in control?" A sharp, grating laugh escaped the detained man in front of her.
"Your powers are almost as sentient as yourself. They grow and evolve just like you do. So you can walk through shadows now, imagine what you can do if you knew how to train and push yourself. The things you'd be capable of -"
"Alright, that's enough," Steve stepped forward, a warning primed on the tip of his tongue, but Alex beat him to it.
"No. No more riddles, games or cryptics."
"So much potential -"
"Cut the bullshit!" Alex exclaimed and stood up. She threw her chair to one side with a loud clatter and slammed her hands down on the tabletop. The lights flickered and hummed overhead. Threatened to go out completely.
"It scares you. Not knowing the true nature of what's inside of you," he stated quietly in realisation as she glowered down at him, lips parted and breathing heavily.
"You have ten seconds to start talking. Give us information about facilities like yours," Alex demanded, ignoring the pleasure he was taking from messing with her.
"You'll never get them all."
"Irrelevant. Start talking."
"You don't scare me, Little Lamb -" Alex grabbed him by the nape of his neck and slammed him face-first into the stainless steel tabletop. Crimson spurted from his nose and mouth at the harsh impact.
"I should. I'm a product of your design. And if what you said about my power is true, then you better be thankful you're already detained," she spoke in a low tone, voice laced with a venomous level of hatred.
"Alex, maybe you should ease up a little," Steve suggest quietly and Alex let Markus go. He sat up with a gasp and wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
"Okay -" he sniffed and tipped his head back slightly "- There's one base I know of that's still in operation."
"Now we're making progress," Alex mused sarcastically as she returned to her seat
"It's a heavily protected fortress in Sokovia. The last I heard was Baron Wolfgang von Strucker was running a similar kind of experiment to ours -"
"I couldn't say -"
"That's not good enough." Alex threatened to stand up again and Markus flinched in surprise.
"I don't know! All I do know is that they found a staff of untold power. It's being held at the fortress but I don't know what they're using it for," Markus finally explained and that seemed to satisfy the duo. Alex rose to her feet and straightened out her clothes.
"What are you doing?" he questioned. Blood had smeared across his teeth and chin, adding to his already dire appearance.
"Letting you take a good, long look at my face. This is the last time we'll see each other and I want you to see my face. In your dreams. In your nightmares. And I want you to remember how it felt to be completely at my mercy," she stated cooly before she turned to the door. Steve held it open for her and with a final glance over her shoulder, stepped out into the corridor. As soon as the door shut and the security guards resumed their positions, tears welled in her eyes and her facade came crumbling down.
"Hey - are you alright?" Steve was quick to pull her in for a hug and held her close for several long minutes. From her position, Alex could hear the steady beating of his heart beneath his ribs. A sound that kept her grounded.
"I could've killed him..." Alex half-sobbed in realisation.
"But you didn't," Steve countered and there was a hint of pride in his voice.
"You saw what happened Steve. I snapped on the drop of a dime and if you hadn't been there I would've killed him."
"Alex, look at me," he prompted and she listened. Looked up at him with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks.
"I don't doubt for a second that you could've killed him. But the fact remains, that you didn't. Part of that is because I stepped in and the other part... Well, I guess that's down to you. You're not a killer, Alex. The world's given you plenty of reasons to become one, but that's not who you are," he stated calmly and Alex took a deep breath.
"No -" Steve shook his head "- It's not. You have a hell of a lot more going for you than being some stone-cold killer. You're too smart, too quirky and colourful to let someone like Markus change that. He wouldn't have been worth it."
"Of course. Now, I'm starving. How does pizza sound?" he questioned as he draped an arm over her shoulders and the two of them moved back to the elevator.
"Really good, right about now actually," Alex agreed as she dried her eyes on her sleeve. They returned to the communal area and Alex ordered the pizza.
Fed and cosy on one of the long sofas, Alex was struggling to keep her eyes open. Some movie played on the TV and a glance at Steve told her he was struggling to stay awake too. With a yawn and a stretch, Alex kicked the fuzzy blanket off her legs and forced herself to her feet.
"C'mon, Old Man, time for bed," she teased with a sleepy grin. Steve made a disgruntled noise but accepted the hand up.
"Hey - less of the old, alright?" Steve rebuffed and pulled her in for an overly enthusiastic hug, which put Alex firmly against his chest. There was playful energy between them despite the obvious fatigue that had settled on the two of them. As they moved to the elevator, they laughed at the half-assed attempts at roughhousing.
"- Easy! The last thing I need is Tony getting mad that I bruised his precious baby girl," he teased as the doors opened.
"Oh, please. I can handle myself," Alex insisted with a nudge to Steve's shoulder as he pressed the button for their floor. They began to ascend and Alex tried to be subtle in her attempts to stand closer to Steve.
"I never said you couldn't." The doors slid open and they stepped out into the corridor. There were two rooms between them, but they took their time walking the hallway. Alex stopped outside her door and caught Steve by the hand.
"Would you wanna... I dunno, stay with me tonight?" It was a long shot but she took it nonetheless. Steve let out a pensive sigh and put his hands on her upper arms, rubbed gently up and down.
"I'd like to, but maybe not tonight." Alex pouted and shuffled closer. Steve pressed his forehead to hers and let out another sigh.
"I just - I don't want Tony to get the wrong idea," he soothed and Alex had to refrain from rolling her eyes.
"Why do you care what Tony thinks? I'm an adult, I can do what I please. Besides, it's not like I have anything sinister planned, I just prefer having you near," she explained and tugged lightly at the front of his t-shirt.
"I respect you, Alex. Any other night, I'd keep you company for as long as you needed me... But I'm not gonna be much company tonight. I'm sorry." Alex couldn't say she wasn't disappointed in his decision but respected it nonetheless.
"Alright, but I wanna see you on the training floor first thing tomorrow morning," she bargained and Steve let out a quiet chuckle and his breath fanned against her lips. Half sure of herself, Alex tipped her chin up slightly. Their lips grazed and Alex pulled Steve in with a hand curled around the nape of his neck, her fingers just curling into his hair.
It was a soft, somewhat tender kiss and as Alex felt Steve press her back into the door, she started to hitch a leg around his waist, but he pulled away.
"What was that for?" Steve was breathless and there was a confused frown on his brow. Alex cocked her head to the side slightly and reached up to smooth the frown out with the pad of her thumb
"Because I wanted to. Goodnight, Steve." With a final look into his eyes, Alex twisted the door handle. It swung open behind her and she turned to step into her room when Steve stopped her. She spun back around to face him and was surprised to feel his lips against hers again. This time, there was a push of tongues and the sensation of her teeth nipping at his bottom lip.
"Goodnight," Steve exhaled against her parted lips as he tried to pull himself away from her. Alex moved her hands to his chest and gently nudged him to step back.
"I'll see you in the morning, Captain." Bashful, he echoed her words back and retreated down the corridor. Alex let the door shut with a click and she was quick to take a running jump onto her bed. Amongst the pillows and covers, she let out a giddy laugh and muffled a scream into the nearest pillow.
Hours later, as she lay staring at the ceiling, the good mood Alex had been in was long gone. Fitful sleep plagued with nightmares was all she was gifted whenever she closed her eyes. Unable to take it much longer, Alex threw the covers back and grabbed her phone from the nightstand, tucked it into the pocket of her pyjamas. Barefoot, she went in search of a pair of shoes and came up with a pair of slip-on VANS.
Alex loosely brushed through her hair and put it up into a half-assed ponytail before she reached for a hoodie off her desk chair. The wall clock told her it was almost five in the morning. She pushed the tiredness out of her mind as she shadow-walked to the elevator.
The ride down to the sub-basement was strange without Steve by her side. Nonetheless, Alex got out when the elevator stopped and retraced her steps to the holding cell. The guards were still stationed outside, so she took the opportunity to shadow-walk into the confined space. The lights overhead had been dimmed since they were last in there but that only made it easier for Alex to move around.
Alex stood over Markus and when he opened his eyes, she clamped a firm hand over his mouth. The noises of protest he made were muffled by her hand but the warning in her eyes was enough to get him to quieten down.
"You even think about yelling, it's the last time you'll open your mouth." With a nod of understanding, Markus sat up. Alex lowered her hand and pulled a chair over from earlier.
"What are you doing here? Without your precious Captain to keep you grounded?"
"He doesn't need to know. This is between you and me," she stated, gaze unwavering.
"You haven't been sleeping, have you?" There was a distinct lack of smugness in his words this time and Alex shifted in her seat.
"I'll admit, my circadian rhythm isn't what it used to be, but I grew up a gifted kid, running on minimal sleep is nothing new to me," Alex confessed with a slight shrug.
"Of course. You take after your father -"
"Don't bring him into this right now. As I said, it's between you and me," she interjected and pulled her hoodie tighter around her torso.
"Sure. Why did you come back?"
"Oddly enough, it has nothing to do with your magnetism," Alex replied sarcastically and leant back in the chair.
"You wound me."
"Good..." It was childish bickering, but Alex pulled her sleeves down to cover her hands before she spoke again.
"I want to know more about what you did to me. The stuff you put in my veins, I wanna know." Markus sighed with a nod and leant back against the wall.
"I see. That's not something I can easily answer. The history of the project -"
"No, no more bullshit propaganda or history lessons. I want - need - to know what the hell is going to happen to me," Alex interrupted, her voice remaining level and even.
"Alex, you have to understand that there are certain things even I can't offer an explanation for. But what I can tell you about the state of your being is that it's integral that you train and exercise control," Markus conceded and began to explain.
"But how? At the moment all I know how to do is walk through shadows from one place to another and I can take someone else with me. That's it."
"You just have to push yourself. The right amount of exertion and force will bring about miraculous changes in your abilities."
"You say that like I've been sat around doing nothing for the past two years."
"Look, you're smart, it's not going to be that difficult to figure it out -"
"Markus, I'll cut the bullshit. I'm terrified. Every time I try to sleep, I have no idea where I'm going to wake up or if I'm gonna wake up at all. It's not just the shadow-walking," she explained, putting all her cards on the table.
"Don't let the suspense kill me."
"Sometimes, I can feel this - this pull. I feel like the shadows are just the tip of the iceberg."
"How do you mean?"
"Oh, c'mon I know you saw it earlier. I got mad and the lights flickered. That's no coincidence, it can't be," Alex stated with slight exasperation.
"I did, but anything could explain that -" He stopped when Alex closed her eyes. She thought about it, the darkness. Focused on the all-consuming, pressing nature of the dark. The way it felt to walk through the shadows. Warm static and a floating sensation.
Alex opened her eyes and the lights were out. Total darkness swallowed the room and Alex could hear the nervous breathes that Markus exhaled.
"Your powers are already growing... Impressive," he mused.
"I just wanna know how to get ahead of the curve. I control my abilities and not the other way around." Alex relaxed and the lights flickered back on. Markus squinted at the harsh intrusion of light but was quick to recover.
"I've already told you - your powers are like a muscle, if you don't train it and use it frequently, it'll deteriorate." Dissatisfied, Alex stood up and put her chair away.
"Enjoy your time on the Raft. And for future reference, learn to sleep with one eye open." Alex ignored the desperate attempts Markus made to back peddle as she turned and stepped into the long shadow at the end of the room. When she emerged, she was outside her room again. A glance at her phone screen told her she had almost an hour left before she was expected to meet Steve in the training room, so she returned to her room and began to prepare herself for the day ahead.
@maerosegrace @writerwrites @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @kayteewritessteve @just-a-spark @tregua-oca @mikariell95 @averyhotchner @slaymecaptain
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it’s anthony mackie as ash and sebastian stan as pikachu
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apricity pt. four
apricity - the warmth of the sun in the winter
warnings: angst, violence, vomit mention, pregnancy mention
pairing: bucky barnes x female oc
word count: 4,265
A/N: very proud of this chapter! this contains a major bombshell, so be prepared! :) thank you!!!
The apartment was small, a little hole in the wall building in Bucharest. HYDRA had sent the two Winter Soldiers on a year-long recon mission. They were 3 months deep into the mission and the two assassins have only spoken 10 words to each other, never spending longer with each other than they had to.
Nightmares made sleep foreign for the both of them, sitting up in silence in the dark hours of the night, staring at one another. When Florence did sleep, her past haunted her, always flashes of a man she didn't recognize. She was a stranger to herself, the man across from her unknown. Yet on the rare times the Soldier would look her in the eye, she felt like she was home, his blue eyes comforting in the cold winters and the humid summers of Romania.
Five months in and the Soldier was unable to let Florence out of his sight. He had grown to welcome her presence and got uneasy when she was away, counting down the minutes until she was with him again.
Six months in and the brainwashing began to wear off of Florence, memories plaguing her very existence. She’d wake up screaming, the Soldier holding her against his chest as she cried. She knew him. She knew him.
Eight months into the mission and the Soldier and Florence were in love.
Eleven months in and it fell apart, cracking like the paint on the apartment walls. Both Florence and Bucky began remembering more. Florence told him of the worst night of her life, the incident occurring after the Red Room, the soldier having no recollection of it until it hit him square in the chest. Their child, ripped away. Both the assassins held each other on the floor as they both crumbled apart. Florence begged to run away and hide from HYDRA after that.
Twelve months came and both the Widow and the Soldier were back in the clutches of HYDRA with no memories, every ounce of progress they made was flushed down the drain.
The flashback pounded a headache into Florence’s skull as she looked around Bucky’s small apartment. It was the same building as the one they stayed in the year of 1990, Bucky probably not remembering why the building meant anything. The apartment complex had been updated since then but the memories were still buried there, their roots deep, choking out anything in their path. Steve stood behind her, taking in the bare necessities Bucky had, a mattress on the floor, one set of utensils, a fridge, a chair, and a small kitchen; the definition of lonely. The windows were papered up, not allowing much light in, hiding the contents of the apartment to the outside world.
Sam’s voice vibrated through their earpieces, “Heads up. German Special Forces, approaching from the south.”
The floorboard creaked faintly, alerting that someone else was there. Florence turned quickly, coming face-to-face with Bucky, lurking in the corner, dressed in a red henley and a jacket with dark jeans, and long hair hidden under a black baseball cap. She felt as if she were floating in space, spiraling towards an inevitable explosion, his eyes boring into hers. Her heart ached, feeling as if there was a vice squeezing the life out of her as she took in his broad figure, blue eyes swimming with fear and confusion. Steve clutched the black notebook he was holding and joined Florence as they both eyed Bucky cautiously.
Steve spoke first, the words getting caught in Florence’s throat, “Do you know us?”
There was a long pause as Bucky looked at them both, “You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.” Bucky’s eyes drifted to the redhead, whose heart was in her throat, “You’re Florence. We worked together.” Florence gnawed at her inner cheek, at least he knew that much, it was a start. She could work with that.
Sam’s voice came over the earpiece again, “They’ve set the perimeter.”
Steve placed the notebook down on the table slowly as not to startle Bucky, “I know you’re nervous, and you have plenty of reason to be. But you’re lying.”
Bucky shook his head once, shoulders tense and voice gruff, “I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore.”
The earpiece vibrated again, “They’re entering the building.”
Florence found her voice, the impending threat making her antsy to get herself and Bucky out of there, “Well, the people who think you did are coming here now. And they’re not planning on taking you alive.”
“That’s smart. Good strategy.” Bucky’s eyes remained on Florence as they could hear loud footsteps approaching.
Sam’s voice spoke again, “They’re on the roof. I’m compromised.”
Steve clutched his shield tighter, “This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck.”
Bucky sighed heavily, “It always ends in a fight.”
“Five seconds!” Sam called out the time they had left until they were breached.
Steve glanced out the window and then back at Bucky, “You pulled Florence and me from the river. Why?”
He removed his gloves, revealing his metal hand at Sam called out the seconds again, “I don’t know.”
Steve nodded, trying to convince him, Yes, you do.”
Florence took one more glance at Bucky until a grenade was thrown through the window next to her, sending glass flying around her. Steve blocked it with his shield, tossing it away as Bucky kicked another at him, forcing Steve to cover the blast with his shield.
The door was being rammed in with more grenades thrown in, Bucky grabbing Florence and yanking her with him as he held up the mattress from the floor to block the blast, metal arm braced in front of her chest as he held her against him as he held the mattress. Bucky and Florence parted, the door bounced from its hinges as the officers rammed it again, Bucky tossing a table to barricade it. Two officers broke through the windows, Florence throwing a right hook to one’s jaw and knocking him to the ground while Bucky did the same.
Steve was occupied with a third officer who was aiming at Bucky, pulling the rug from under the armed man causing him to fall to the ground. More officers continued to pour in, Bucky, Steve, and Florence working together to take them down.
Bucky kicked one intruder back, Steve grabbing his shoulder to turn him around to face him “Buck, stop! You’re gonna kill someone.”
The brunette sent Steve flying the ground onto his back and punched a hole next to his head, grabbing a backpack, “I’m not gonna kill anyone.”
Florence watched as Bucky flung the bag out of the window, landing on the concrete below, another officer entering behind her, gun aimed directly at her head. Bucky grabbed her elbow before she could retaliate, Bucky deflecting the bullets with his metal arm from Florence and Steve. Bucky shoved Steve and the shield forward, effectively knocking another armed guard down.
Florence stalked forward, throwing another guard down into the shelves on the wall as Bucky took out another guard with a cinder block from the wall Florence just destroyed. Bucky brushed past Florence, angling his body between her and the door that was still being breached. Bucky reeled his metal arm back, the bionic arm whirring as he punched through the concrete wall with ease and grabbed a guard, yanking him forward against the wall and knocking him out.
Bucky looked back briefly, Florence getting the silent message to follow as Bucky burst through the door, using it as a shield. The two took down the guards in the hall before more entered from above shooting at them. Again, Bucky deflected the bullets from himself and Florence, yanking the gun from the officer and hitting him with it. Florence grabbed the battering ram from the floor and flung it at the officer across from her, knocking them into each other.
Florence noticed a stall in Bucky’s movement as he surveyed their surroundings, the officers continuing to pour in from the stairs below. The soldier grabbed the propel line one of the officers had used and swung himself down to a lower level of the stairs, taking down more officers before they could reach Florence. Steve appeared behind the girl, reaching across her to grab a radio from an officer and smashing it in his hand. Steve peered over the railing at Bucky who was still fighting.
Florence and Steve jumped down the stairs, joining Bucky on a lower level. Bucky threw an officer over the railing, Steve jumping to grab the officer before he plummeted to his death, “Come on, man.”
Bucky just looked at Steve as he elbowed another guard in the face. Steve pulled the guard up and threw him back against the wall.
Florence watched as Bucky propelled down the railing as she took off after him. She ran down the stairs as quickly as she could, leaving Steve to deal with the officers on his own. She ran down multiple flights of stairs, finally catching up with Bucky, who was on his way to jumping out of a window. She skidded to a stop in front of the open window, watching Bucky land on the building below. She ran her options through her head before jumping after him.
She landed on the hard concrete in a roll and jumped to her feet, running after Bucky, a few feet in front of her with his backpack. She caught up to him, matching his strides as they both noticed a shadow that had joined them. Next to her, Bucky was tackled to the ground by someone in a black catsuit, kicking him in the abdomen. The two exchanged punches as Florence listened to Sam and Steve converse over the radio, Steve needing Sam as backup.
Bucky was thrown to the ground as the unknown person moved to attack him, Florence throwing a kick at their head. Overhead, a helicopter appeared, raining down bullets. The bullets ricocheted from the black suit as Sam flew through the air and kicked the helicopter down. Bucky managed to throw the attacker off, grabbing his bag and running again, this time with Florence in tow, metal hand grasping hers as they ran.
The two leaped off the building together, limbs flailing, hands still intertwined, landing on a ledge below. The attacker didn’t falter, scaling down the building with its claws. Florence and Bucky didn’t waste any time watching, jumping down the ledge and continuing to run, Steve not far behind. The helicopter appeared again, shooting at them for a second time. Florence was in front of Bucky as she approached a drop-off leading down the highway. She hesitated before jumping, only Bucky didn’t give her time to ponder, running behind her and pulling her down with him onto the highway, away from the spray of bullets, his calloused hand in hers.
The two assassins dodged the oncoming traffic, looking back to see the attacker had followed them, along with Steve. They took off running again, weaving through and over the traffic, Bucky leading Florence behind him. Sirens blared behind them, Bucky slowing his pace as he shoved off an approaching motorist and flipping the motorcycle over with his metal arm like it weighed nothing, pulling Florence behind him with his flesh arm as they sped down the highway on the bike. Florence secured her arms around Bucky’s waist as he revved the bike, the redhead looking back as the air whipped past them, everything about this felt painfully familiar; her arms wrapped around Bucky as he sped down the road, havoc following after them. She saw the attacker getting closer and saw that Steve had stolen a car chasing after them.
Bucky sped the bike through traffic, trying to keep himself and Florence both upright and away from the attackers. Bucky reached down to Florence’s calf and pulled out the butterfly knife he miraculously knew she kept in her boot and flipped the blade open while he steered the bike with his flesh hand. The unknown attacker jumped from Steve’s stolen car and towards the bike, Bucky catching them mid-air by the throat, causing him to drop the knife. The Black Panther twisted sideways, causing the bike to lean severely towards the road as Bucky put his metal hand to the ground to keep them from tipping, sparks flying from the friction. Florence adjusted her position around Bucky to help him balance the bike and threw her leg up, kicking the attacker off of the bike and Bucky as he regained control of the motorcycle and gunned it.
Bucky cleared the underground highway, throwing a grenade at the end of the tunnel, closing off the rest of the traffic. Florence threw her head back, red hair blowing in the wind, watching to see if Steve and Sam made it through the blast as the Black Panther came flying at her, piercing the tire with a claw and wrecking the bike. Bucky and Florence rolled down the highway, Steve ditching the rolling car and running at them.
The Black Panther went to attack Bucky again, Steve tackling him away as Florence got to her feet. Sirens blared around them, law enforcement surrounding them with no way out. Everyone anxiously glared at everyone around them, Bucky moving himself slightly to stand in front of Florence as Rhodey appeared in front of them with his weapons drawn, “Stand down. Now.”
Steve held his arm out in front of Bucky, signaling to him that it was okay and to stay as Rhodey spoke, “Congratulations, Cap. You’re a criminal.”
Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Florence were surrounded by officers and detained while the panther took off his mask to reveal the new king of Wakanda, after his father’s murder, King T’Challa.
The team was transported to Berlin in police vans, Florence, Sam, Steve, and T’challa in one while Bucky was transported in another special industrial truck, considering he posed the biggest threat.
Sam was seated next to Florence, twiddling his thumbs as he questioned T’Challa, “So, you like cats?”
Steve and Florence spoke in unison, both rolling their eyes, “Sam.”
“What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat, you don’t wanna know more?”
Steve ignored Sam, “Your suit...it’s vibranium?”
T’Challa moved to look at Steve, “The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle, passed from warrior to warrior. And now, because your friend murdered my father I also wear the mantle of king. So, I ask you, as both warrior and king, how long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?” Florence started at the back of the king’s head, formulating a way to convince him that it wasn’t Bucky who did this. She knew deep down in her soul.
Steve glared ahead as they entered the police station’s underground garage. The van parked and the door opened, the team stepping out slowly. Florence and Steve both looked back to find Bucky, who was in an industrial glass cube and secured in by a metal harness, a grave look on his face.
They approached Sharon who was flanked by officials, Steve asking his number one question, “What’s gonna happen to him?”
The suited man next to Sharon spoke, “Same thing that ought to happen to you and the rest of your friends. Psychological evaluation and extradition.”
Florence narrowed her eyes at the man, not appreciating the tone he was using or what he was saying as Sharon formally introduced him, “This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander.”
Steve fired back, “What about a lawyer?”
The commander chuckled, “Lawyer. That’s funny. See their weapons are placed in lockup. We’ll write you a receipt.”
Sam stepped forward as the commander turned to walk away, “I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that.”
The team followed Everett into the building, listening to his explanations along the way, “You’ll be provided with an office instead of a cell. Now, do me a favor, stay in it?”
T’Challa spoke next to him, “I don’t intend on going anywhere.”
Natasha stood at the side of the hall as Ross and T’Challa passed, falling in step with Steve, Sam, and Florence, “For the record, this is what making things worse looks like.”
Steve continued walking down the hall, “He’s alive.” That’s all that mattered at the moment.
The team came to the office, Tony was inside on the phone, panicking the way only Tony Stark can, Florence listening to brief the conversation, “No. Romania was not Accords-sanctioned. Colonel Rhodes is supervising cleanup.”
Natasha looked back at Steve, Sam, and Florence, “Try not to break anything while we fix this.”
“Consequences? You bet there’ll be consequences.” Tony paused, listening to the person on the other end, “Obviously you can quote me on that, because I just said it. Anything else? Thank you, sir.”
Steve watched as Tony hung up the phone, “Consequences?”
Tony answered, “Secretary Ross wants you three prosecuted. Had to give him something.”
Steve called after Tony, “I’m not getting that shield back, am I?”
Natasha followed Tony out of the door, “Technically, it’s the government’s property. Wings, too.”
Sam shook his head, “That’s cold.”
“Warmer than jail!” Tony fired back from the doorway before turning and leaving with Natasha.
Steve and Florence stood in front of the wall of camera monitors, watching the monitor that showed Bucky. The office door opened, Tony entering with a pen box in hand, “Hey, wanna see something cool? I pulled something from Dad’s archives. Felt timely.”
Florence remained in front of the monitor as Steve moved to sit at the table with Tony. She tuned out the conversation, instead, staring intently at Bucky, revisiting the past days’ events. He looked relatively healthy on the outside, though his eyes told the truth. He was lost. Alone and scared. The mere knowledge that he had been staying at the same apartment building from all those years ago almost sent Florence to her knees. In the early hours of the morning in that building, so much was said, memories spilling from her lips into his ears. They spoke of whatever they remembered of each other from before, then moving into what they remember together during the Red Room and HYDRA, tears staining their cheeks and the pillows they laid on.
The ex-assassin vividly remembered the night she told him about what happened to the pregnancy; absolute utter pain carved itself into his features and soul. And in a matter of days, they were back in Siberia being brainwashed, with no recollection of the last year. Florence knew now that Bucky barely remembered her, although his subconscious did, it showed in the way he protected her today, the way he would angle his body between her and any potential threat, pulling her with him during the chase, hand in hers. Florence was also painfully aware that even if his subconscious remembered her, he didn’t remember their past or the dreadful story told in Romania and that story was going to remain buried until Bucky remembered it, if he even did.
Florence shook herself from her mind, turning to face the two men at the table, refocusing on Tony’s words as he spoke to Steve, “We need you, Cap. All of you. So far, nothing’s happened that can’t be undone, if you sign. We can make the last 24 hours legit. Barnes gets transferred to an American psych-center instead of a Wakandan prison.”
The mention of Bucky from Tony’s mouth made her angry, hands balling into fists at her sides. Florence was furious with everyone, HYDRA, Tony, the world. She felt like she was fighting against the universe and she was losing, Bucky’s future hanging in the balance.
Steve soaked in Tony’s words, grabbing a pen in front of him and standing, “I’m not saying it’s impossible, but there would have to safeguards.”
Tony shrugged, “Sure. Once we put out the PR fire, those documents can be amended. I’d file a motion to have you and Wanda reinstated.”
Steve stopped in his tracks, “Wanda? What about Wanda?”
“She’s fine. She’s confined to the compound, currently. Vision’s keeping her company.”
Steve grimaced in disgust,” Ah, God, Tony. Every time I think you see things the right way.”
Florence rolled her eyes, knowing where this was going.
Tony cut him off, “It’s 100 acres with a lap pool. It’s got a screening room. There’s worse ways to protect people.”
“Protection? Is that how you see this? This is protection? It’s internment, Tony.”
Steve and Florence almost always disagreed with Tony’s logic. She shook her head as she listened to Steve and Tony continue to argue, moving to sit at the opposite end of the table.
Tony’s face flushed with anger, “She’s not a US citizen.”
Steve scoffed, “Oh, come on, Tony.”
“And they don’t grant visas to weapons of mass destruction.”
“She’s a kid!”
“Give me a break!” Tony’s voice boomed, bouncing off the glass walls of the office, “I’m doing what has to be done. To stave off something worse.”
Steve nodded in disgust, “You keep telling yourself that.”
Steve walked out of the room, Tony lingered a moment longer as Florence broke her silence, “I wish it didn’t have to be like this, Tony.” She caught Tony’s eyes before he left the room, sorrow swimming in them.
A few hours later, Steve rejoined her in the office, staring at the monitor again. Commander Ross stood with Natasha and Tony outside of the office as they watched Bucky and the appointed UN therapist on the screen.
“I’ve been sent by the United Nations to evaluate you. Do you mind if I sit?”
They watched as the therapist sat at a table in front of the small cubed cell Bucky was in, Florence feeling as if she were going to throw up.
“Your first name is James?”
Behind them, Sharon entered with a receipt for Sam’s gear. The monitor inside the office enlarges to just see Bucky; Steve and Florence look back to see Sharon with her finger on the button, silently thanking her before turning again.
“I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?”
There was a period of silence, Bucky not responding to the therapist.
“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.”
“My name is Bucky.”
Both Steve and Florence looked at each other in brief shock from Bucky’s statement.
Steve shuffled the suspect photo of Bucky from the bombing in his hand, “Why would the Task Force release this photo to begin with?”
Sharon shrugged, “Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?”
Florence spoke, catching onto Steve’s concern, a concern she had from the beginning, it couldn’t be him, “Right. It’s a good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.”
“You’re saying someone framed him to find him?” Florence nodded at Sharon, confirming her question.
Sam spoke from his spot at the table, “We looked for this guy for two years and found nothing.”
Steve went to speak but Florence cut him off, “I know. I should have put together the pieces earlier, should have known he would have gone to Bucharest. A lot happened there between him and me that I’d rather not share but I didn’t know he’d remember it enough to go back to it, maybe none of this would be happening right now if I did.’
Steve placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Don’t do this to yourself, don’t go down that path. We didn’t bomb the UN. That turns heads.”
Sharon shook her head, blonde hair swaying, ‘Yeah, but that doesn’t guarantee that whoever framed him would get him. It guarantees that we would.”
Realization simultaneously struck everyone, heads turning to look at the therapist on the monitor. Florence’s eyes scanned the room wildly, heart pounding, looking for a way out to get to Bucky without getting shot. Three exits in total, only two traditional, the other was risky, and all would wind up with her either killing someone in her way or getting shot and arrested. Neither of those options gets her to Bucky quickly enough.
The therapist’s voice continued over the speaker, “Tell me, Bucky. You’ve seen a great deal, haven’t you?
Bucky started coldly ahead, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You fear that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry. We only have to talk about one.”
The screen went black, the lights in the room going with it, Florence’s stomach dropped. Commander Ross clutched his radio in his hands tightly, “Come one, guys, get me eyes on Barnes.”
Steve and Florence looked to Sharon as she gave the location of Bucky, “Sub-level five, East Wing.” Steve, Sam, and Florence all shared a look before jumping up and out of the door.
Florence sprinted down the hallway, footsteps bouncing off the walls as the emergency lights flashed red. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her breath erratic, and palms sweating. She halted in front of an unconscious guard on the floor, Sam and Steve behind her. Slowly stalking through the hall, they saw more and more guards unconscious on the ground. Florence had an uneasy feeling that this wasn’t Bucky’s doing, her gut confirming the worst.
It was the Winter Soldiers.
Tag list: @tanyaherondale @lilyviolets @jckie94 @badgernix @geek-and-proud @ginger-swag-rapunzel
Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed, please reblog!
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sugardaddyceo!sam spitting in my mouth and telling me to "swallow you dumb little whore"🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴
A huge glob of drool rolled from his lips and into your open mouth. It was so much, and you felt it slide over your teeth and coat your tongue, and its harder to catch your breath, and at the same time, You swear you can feel a surge pump through the shaft of his cock, bead at the tip and then gently flow into the very back of your vagina. Your throat and pussy contract in unison, both coated in thick slime, as if connected to each other. He chuckles and gives your throat a squeeze in response, then brings his fingers to your lips.
"Don't swallow yet."
His fingers enter your mouth gently sliding along your tongue, widening the angle of your jaw. They dip into the pool of slime at the back of your mouth and begin to spread it around, pushing uncomfortably deep into your throat, over your tongue and teeth and cheeks. At the same time, he rotates his hips and that dick begins to swirl in you, mimicking that slow, slimey smearing action. Every time his finger presses a little too deep and you begin to gag, he jabs his dick up into your cervix, and you feel the hair on his balls come a little closer.
His fingers press into your cheek and you feel a pool of the wetness slide over the pad of his finger. Your pussy throbs, imagining his dick reaching into you with that same control and intention, pushing creamy sperm around your vagina. He thrusts again, and it slips towards the back of your throat. He's chasing it, and as that piece of slobber starts to slide down your throat, he pulls his hand out and pushes down on your neck. You shiver as you feel him compress your esophagus around that chunk of him, and the bands of your pussy contract around his cock, trying to instill some symmetry by drawing a potent ball packed with semen up into your hungry womb. The walls of your pussy beg and grind and you feel the ripples of his foreskin pull up and down his shaft.
"Too bad you're not in control here. I decide when and how I impregnate you, and all you can do is listen carefully to my orders like a dumb little baby."
You shudder at the word "impregnate". He smirks at that and his other hand comes to rest back on your stomach while he spits another huge strand of drool into your mouth. His fingers curl down into your mouth and your lower stomach at the same time, making you heave and barely register that he's feeling for your uterus.
Until he finds it. His massive cock is ever so slightly pressing it up and out of its usual place. He pushes along the edges of it, the top out to your ovaries, then down until he finds where his cockhead meets your cervix, relishing his complete dominance over your body and future. He circles his fingers around there, circling at the back of your mouth too. The spit starts to slosh out the sides of your mouth.
"When I say, you're going to swallow all my spit. I want you to feel it slide down your esophagus and fill you. At the same time that your throat contracts, imagine your cervix doing the same- swallow my precum up into that waiting belly."
As if to practice, your whole cunt contacts like shuddering velvet around him, desperate to coax him deeper. He chuckles a little and pushes his fingers down deeper than before, gagging you once more for for fun. You splutter and half of the spit runs down your chin and cheeks. You're dismayed at the loss in your mouth, but pulls his fingers from your mouth and scoops it back in. His hand is on the outside of your throat again, and you hope he presses down. You want him to take your breath from you. You want him to feel you swallow his spit like its his cum, feel that precious slime becoming an inseparable part of you.
"Be a good slut and swallow like the little dumb whore you are." He whispers against your lips and he thrusts his big strong tongue into your mouth.
You obey, and almost cum. His tongue is keeping your mouth open, drooling more spit into you, so you gulp and choke it down. His hand presses down on your throat, feeling the muscles contract to pull him down into your stomach. You feel the mass of spit slide down, missing the feel in your mouth, but savoring the way it fills the rest of you. In perfect unison to your greedy tongue and throat, your cervix begins the same motions. It's like it's sucking on the very tip of his dick head, and you swear you can feel pulses of fluid passing through it, warming you as you feel his thick saliva enter your stomach.
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[Arc 1] [Arc 2] [Previous]
Description: Thriving in Miami, Alex is enjoying the time away from covert missions and the chaos surrounding the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. Despite making the most of the freedom and taking the opportunity to better herself, part of her still misses not having Steve around. A surprise arrival makes a good day even better.
Warning(s): mild language(?), brief talk of therapy, a minor altercation, stargazing, platonic cuddling, a little heart to heart, descriptions of nightmares and symptoms of PTSD
ALMOST THREE MONTHS IN MIAMI HAD COMPLETELY CHANGED ALEX. She thrived beneath the burning sun, amongst a tapestry of languages and cultures. She'd developed a steady routine that consisted of nothing other than exercising, looking after herself and keeping a low profile.
The therapist she'd found in DC had referred her to an equally qualified therapist in Miami, so twice a month they had a sit-down and a talk about how she was coping, the things she was doing to keep busy. Alex's initial faith in the process had been shaky at best, but by the end of the second session, she already felt better.
Alex had also managed to stay true to her word and visited Tony and Pepper in New York every other weekend, to keep them happy. Everything seemed to be working out, falling into place and that gave her a sense of comfort she hadn't felt in a long time.
Currently, Alex was out on a run. Headphones in, blasting her favourite songs from the nineties, the sun on her face and the seaspray against her skin. She was almost done with her regular route, the home stretch wasn't far away. Despite the beach normally being awash with people, it was barely 6 AM and there was no one in sight.
Sand squished beneath her feet as she neared the path that led up to the beach house. Without breaking a stride, she climbed the hillside path and made it through her front door in record time. Her morning workout continued on the back patio with some weights, Alex watched the sunrise whilst doing a couple of yoga stretches and then finished it off with a dip in the pool.
Alex had music playing comfortably as she stepped inside and made herself breakfast. Two toasted bagels, a bowl of cereal and three oranges later, she made her way to the bathroom to shower off and clean herself up. She turned her music on through a Bluetooth speaker and gathered two towels to take with her into the large space.
Sweaty workout clothes and bikini discarded in the hamper, Alex stepped into the hot stream of water and let herself soak first. The tattoo she'd gotten on her outer thigh, near her hip stood out against her warm skin. The delicately inked flowers followed the curve of her figure in sharp, smooth lines.
With no other plans for the day, Alex decided to make the most of her free time and tidied up as much of the beach house as she could. Though she didn't go the whole nine yards and reorganise the furniture, she didn't stop until the whole place was sparkling again. The next time she checked her phone, Alex was surprised to see it was lunchtime. Her stomach grumbled and she took that as her cue to get something to eat.
Music filled the air as she prepared a pasta and sauce dish. Alex got so involved in dancing around the kitchen whilst waiting for the pans of food to come to the boil that she almost missed her phone ringing on the counter.
"Alex? Are you there?" A smile the size of the state of Florida broke out on Alex's face at the sound of Steve's voice.
"Steve! Hi! How're things going? Have you found him yet?"
"No, not as yet. Could be worse though, I suppose. How have you been? Kept yourself out of trouble whilst I've been gone?" Alex turned the heat to low and perched on the countertop.
"I've just about managed," she assured him with a slight giggle, "Miami's been good so far. Just sun, sea and sand."
"Good. You deserve the time to relax after everything you've been through."
"So, any word on when you'll be back?" Alex tried to play it smooth, but she wasn't convinced at her attempts.
"Ah, sounds like you missed me," he teased and Alex could hear the smile in his voice.
"Don't get any ideas, Spangles," she rebuffed whilst trying to stop herself from smiling like an idiot.
"Of course not. Listen, I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing. Sam just got back, I'll speak to you again soon."
"Alright. Stay safe out there."
"I'll sure try." The line went dead and Alex's food was ready. It worried her ever so slightly. Words were all well and good, but part of her regretted not going with them when they first left.
As the day drew on and the sun began to set, Alex went outside for one last round of yoga and meditation to round off what had been a pretty good day. The breeze off the sea brushed a few stray strands of hair off her face as she stretched on her mat next to the pool.
When she was done, Alex sat for a few minutes and watched as the last of the sun dipped below the horizon. The faint sounds of the waves below were calming. Almost reminded her of Los Angeles, though those memories were distant blips in her past.
Another cool breeze blew by and inside the house, something was knocked over. Alex sat up and turned to face the patio doors. Darkness. Slightly on edge, she pushed herself to her feet and headed inside, barefoot and soundless.
As a precaution, Alex didn't turn the lights on and kept close to the walls. There was someone shuffling around in the hall, near the lounge. With her heart in her throat, she sunk into a shadow near the kitchen and emerged directly behind the mystery figure. In a split second, they turned, startled, and a brief altercation unfolded.
Remembering what she'd been taught, Alex dodged and wove around the home invader before successfully sweeping their legs out from under them. They landed on the floor with a heavy and vaguely metallic-sounding thud.
"Ow." Alex, currently atop the floored figure recognised the voice. She reached behind her and turned a floor lamp on. Incandescent yellow light illuminated the slightly scruffy features of Steve.
"Remind me to use the doorbell next time... Jeez..." She stood up and helped him to his feet, though she couldn't stop herself from hugging him once he was upright.
"Steve!? I thought you were - weren't you just in some far-off corner of Europe?" Alex was quick to get off of him and let him stand up. With a groan of effort, the super-soldier made it to his feet and dusted himself off with a bemused huff.
"Not quite. Sam and I hit one too many dead-ends and we were on our way back when I called you earlier," he explained with a grin and Alex shook her head. As she took in the sight of him again, she noticed the duffel bag by his feet.
"Oh - I'm sorry! The guest room isn't exactly guest-room-ready, it's mainly just full of boxes and random crap. But my room is just down the hall on the left. You can get out of your tac gear and make yourself comfortable," she explained apologetically and Steve accepted the offer with a slightly rosy tint to his cheeks.
"You wouldn't mind if I showered and cleaned up, would you?"
"Not at all, I'll be out the back when you're done." They split and Alex dug out the blankets she kept specifically for sitting on the decking. One was an old quilt, the others were just throw-blankets.
Alex laid out the quilt on the decking and lay down on the one side with a blanket draped over the top of her. The spare blanket for Steve was left on his allocated space for when he joined her. When she looked up, all Alex could see were stars. It was strange in comparison to Los Angeles, DC and New York, but it reminded her of the night Tony found her. The only noticeable difference was the lack of snow.
In drips and drabs, Alex remembered the stories that her mother used to tell her when she was younger. About the stars, the solar system and the great unknown that was the universe. She remembered listening, hanging on to every word that came from her mouth and believing in them wholeheartedly.
Her chest ached at the memories. Before the truth. Before the mess. Too naive to know any better. Tears stung in her eyes and threatened to spill, but before she could cry, Steve reappeared. Shower-fresh and clean-shaven in a white t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants.
"Is it always this quiet out here? I guess I expected a bit more noise with it being Party City down there," he joked and Alex let out a laugh whilst discreetly wiping away the tears.
"Look at you, Captain America's got jokes." Steve sat down next to her and pulled his blanket over his shoulders. Alex sat up and crossed her legs, the blanket pooled around her waist.
"I'm sorry... That you couldn't find him. I know he means a lot to you, Steve," Alex spoke with sudden sobriety and the mood between them shifted.
"Thanks. I'll find him eventually, I know I will. Guess I just gotta wait until that happens, huh?"
"Yeah. I guess so." There was a moment of silence and then Alex spoke up again.
"Y' know, my mom used to tell me that the stars were the souls of everyone who'd ever died and become part of the universe again. I never really understood - or believed - her but I always thought it was a nice way to think about it."
"What do you mean?" Steve nudged her shoulder gently and she cast her eyes skywards.
"Well, no one really knows what awaits us when we die. So doesn't it seem... I dunno, more palatable to believe that when we die, we go back to the stars?"
"I guess that is a pretty nice way of thinking about it. Do you miss her?"
"Hm?" she hummed, gaze unwavering from the stars above.
"Your mom? I know you haven't really spoken about her since we've known each other. It's totally fine if you don't -"
"No, I just... It's difficult. She looked after me for almost sixteen years and she was a good mom! But I was so mad at her when she dumped me on Tony's doorstep that I didn't really stop to consider how difficult it could've been for her," Alex began to explain, voice quiet and almost contemplative.
"She did what she thought was the right thing," Steve comforted and tentatively put an arm around her shoulders.
"Yeah, then I got kidnapped two years ago and it was the last place I ever thought I'd see her again. She didn't say anything or try to get me out... Just stood by and watched them pull me apart and throw me back together," Alex stated and there was a subtle sadness that twisted in her ribs.
"And yet, I still can't find it in me to hate her for what she did. Because she's still my mom. Even if she did let those monsters do all that they did. I just... I wish I knew how to feel about it, y' know?"
"That's okay. Alex, you're allowed to feel that way. But someday, it'll make sense. You're smart enough to figure it out on your own time," he assured her and that seemed to ease the feelings that swamped her.
"Thanks." Alex let out a long sigh and without thinking much about it, let her head fall against Steve's shoulder. They stayed like that for a few minutes, not saying anything in favour of savouring the stillness of the night.
"You still awake down there?" Steve eventually questioned, voice lowered to a whisper.
"Just about," Alex confirmed with a sleepy grin.
"Do you wanna head inside? It's getting a little chilly - not that I'd ever thought I'd say that about Miami," he joked and Alex sat up. Stretched her arms above her head and let out a yawn crossed with a sigh.
"Sure." The two of them helped each other up and with the blankets bundled into their arms, they headed back into the darkened beach house.
"Alright, I'll see you in the morning," Steve stated quietly when they reached the lounge. Alex turned, visibly confused.
"I'm taking the couch?"
"Oh, absolutely not. You can share with me -"
"No, I don't want to overstep -" he began to interject but Alex refused to hear it.
"C'mon, Steve. You deserve better than the couch. The bed is plenty big enough - Queen sized I think," she assured him with a nod in the general direction of her bedroom.
"If you're sure you don't mind -"
"Of course not. I trust you," Alex stated with sincerity as Steve conceded.
"That means a lot to hear, Alex." He followed her through to her room and watched as she pulled the covers back on what was going to be her side of the bed. Steve was hesitant to get in straight away and opted to loosely fold up his blanket to put it on top of hers before he thought about joining her.
"Goodnight, Steve," Alex yawned and reached for the bedside lamp. He took that as his cue to hurry up and get under the covers. Steve was going to do everything in his power to remain respectful, so lay facing away from her and turned off the lamp on his side.
Alex fell asleep almost straight away, but that didn't prove to be a positive thing. Before long, she was shifting and mumbling into her pillow.
"Please -" she gasped for reprieve but it was denied with a sharp look. Her face was pushed back under the water. Chunks of ice bobbed on the surface. The cold stung against her skin, though it was starting to numb everything it touched.
Lungs screaming for oxygen so harshly, that when she was finally let up, she couldn't breathe enough to make up for it. Dripping wet to the bone and shivering so severely that her teeth chattered, Alex was hauled to her feet and dragged through the facility.
"You'll learn, sooner or later, that you're meant to be seen and not heard, Little Lamb." Her mother passed them in the corridor and for a split second, Alex fought back. Cried out for her to help. She just carried on walking. Alex kicked and thrashed to get out of the harsh grip of the guards, to no avail. Screamed until her throat hurt and tried desperately to get her mother to turn around and get her out of there.
Alex awoke with a scream, tears streaked down her cheeks. A light came on and it took her a few seconds to remember where she was. Steve was sat up next to her, looking deeply concerned.
"Hey, hey, Alex," he prompted gently and she turned to look at him with panic-stricken eyes, "You're safe."
"I - I was back, in that place -" A ragged gasp cut her off and the tears continued to roll in hot and salty droplets down her cheeks and off her chin.
"You're not there now, I promise. Nothing like that is going to happen to you again."
"She looked right through me..." Alex stated breathlessly, trying hard to stop herself from hyperventilating.
"I begged for her to help and she just... Left me." Fresh tears welled in her eyes and a sharp twist in her chest made her gasp with a sliver of panic.
"Take some deep breaths, Alex," Steve suggested gently. He shifted around to face her fully. All Alex could do was stare ahead and let the tears roll freely. In a sudden burst of movement, she kicked the covers off her legs and got out of the bed.
"I'm sorry - I'm sorry, I'll... I'll go get some water and I'll be fine. You can go back to sleep," she assured him with a sniff as she wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands. Without waiting for an answer, she ducked out and headed to the kitchen.
The next morning at the breakfast table, things were slightly awkward between Alex and Steve but neither of them was inclined to bring up what had happened in the small hours. Sat at the breakfast island, Steve browsed the morning paper and Alex caught up on her emails. Thankfully, it was a rest day and since Alex wasn't in the mood or headspace to exercise, she took the time to sleep in and take things a little slower.
From where she'd put it down by the fruit bowl, Alex's phone began to vibrate. Tony's name and picture flashed on the screen, so she picked it up and balanced it between her shoulder and ear whilst she took her things to the sink.
"Hey, Greasemonkey, how are things?"
"Not bad, Steve surprised me by coming back early so he's here too," she informed him and there was a noise of contempt from the other man.
"I see. Well, I come bearing good news," he began and Alex rolled her eyes, expecting it to be something trivial but exciting nonetheless.
"Well, Tony don't let the anticipation kill us."
"We have Markus." Alex, caught off-guard by the mention of his name, dropped the bowl she'd used for her breakfast. Ceramic shattered against the tile floor and Steve was quick to intervene and clean up.
"I... You do? How? Why?"
"Well, Hill and Natasha tracked him down and coordinated a pick-up. The US Senate will be all over this in the next twenty-four hours, so I figured you should know."
"I wanna see him."
"No - that's not what I meant -"
"I don't care. If he's going away for the rest of his life, I want to be the last person he sees."
"Alex, I don't think that's a good idea," Steve spoke up as he swept up the last of the shattered bowl.
"Good thing I didn't ask what you thought. I'll be in New York by dinner time," she finalised, despite the protests of both men present.
"We'll talk more when you get here, then," Tony conceded with a sigh and they hung up. Alex was quick to start packing a bag, Steve followed close behind.
"This is a bad idea, Alex -"
"Because it makes you uncomfortable? Good, he should. After the shit he's pulled, the US Senate is the least of his worries," Alex countered as she packed a bag with as many items of clothing as she could get her hands on. However, her actions were halted when Steve caught her by the shoulders and looked at her head-on.
"I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about you. You've made so much progress since you came back and I don't want you to risk that all on a petty revenge visit. He got under your skin once, don't make it twice."
"I appreciate your concern, Steve, I do. But if I don't do this, he gets the satisfaction of thinking I'm dead. I can't have that." Silence followed and she let out a frustrated sigh.
"Look, either you're on my side, by my side or in my way. I need you to choose which one before I walk out the door." There was a heavy beat and Steve nodded solemnly.
"I want to be by your side. I'll go with you."
"Great. Pack a bag, we've got a long drive ahead of us."
@maerosegrace @writerwrites @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @kayteewritessteve @just-a-spark @tregua-oca @mikariell95 @averyhotchner @slaymecaptain
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the falcon and the winter soldier is literally just anthony and seb but its like them taking acting classes so they're flirting seriously
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Which Marvel characters do you want me to write for besides Wanda, Pietro, Bucky, Natasha und Billy?
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