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ppaperheartss · 4 years

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Confessions Of A Trained Assassin

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: In which a baking mishap leads to secrets being exposed in the early hours of the morning

Warnings: some swearing, a load of fluff

A/N: I tried to make the reader as gender neutral as possible to make this oneshot more inclusive :) if anyone notices any details that make this less gender neutral please let me know. Any feedback and comments are appreciated!

Being a trained spy and assassin, Bucky knows a lot of things that he shouldn’t.

He knows that whenever Sam is working out in the gym alone he’ll listen to the Dreamgirls soundtrack, and his rendition of “And I Am Telling You” isn’t half bad.

He knows Steve has to write his phone passcode on the inside of his wrist under his watch strap every morning because he always forgets it, being the old man that he is.

He knows Stark likes to watch Disney movies when he struggles to get to sleep.

He knows Natasha can’t tell her left from her right and always has to use her fingers to check.

And Y/N… well, he doesn’t know anything.

You weren’t a new addition to the team - you had been there longer than Parker had - but Bucky just got so tongue tied whenever he was around you that his mind went fuzzy.

He doesn’t have a crush on you, though, no matter how much Sam tries to get him to admit it. No, you just have this weird power over him. When you first arrived at the compound everyone was shocked to see the super soldier so bashful. His cheeks tinted red and his posture sunk as he shook your hand, and his sheepish smile matched your curious one.

He couldn’t hold a conversation with you for longer than a minute before leaving. His palms get sweaty and he can embarrassingly hear all of the gears in his metal arm whirr whenever you’re around. Your presence makes him nervous (but in a good way), and he can’t seem to control himself. The best way he can find to cope with it all is just to get himself out of the situation as quickly as possible.

There was no way you intimidated the six-foot and pure muscle of a man, so did he just not like you? You talked to Natasha about it, and she just gave you a knowing smile and said he really didn’t not like you. Your mind melted that night trying to figure out her riddles.

“Earth to Bucky. Hello?” Bucky blinked back into reality as Sam waved a hand in front of his face. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim lights of the restaurant Steve had taken the whole team as a celebratory meal for the last successful mission. You had been undercover in Japan and were the guest of honour, and Bucky (despite hating Thai food) couldn’t say no to a meal in your favourite restaurant. He wacks his hand away and sinks back in his chair, gazing around the table.

You were seated almost directly across from him, between Tony and Steve. Bucky smiled as he watched you laugh and smile with your teammates, running your fingers through your hair absentmindedly. He watched as the rings that adorned your fingers shimmered in the light, and your eyes had a similar twinkle in them. Your eyes latched onto his and you threw him a cheeky smile - nose scrunched and mouth open wide - and all Bucky could do was sink back into his chair further.

He had been a charmer back in the day, but now all of that confidence had disappeared and he could barely manage to maintain eye contact with anyone he found remotely attractive for more than five seconds.

He missed the pout on your face as he looked away.

The door swinging open from the kitchen caught everyone’s attention and the table grew silent as the group anxiously waited for their food to arrive. A few waiters made their way over, calling out the meals they had and handing them over to their designated person.

“Pad Thai?” A waiter called out, and you squealed excitedly as you raised your hand, signalling it was yours. The waiter moved over to you, holding the plate with a small dish towel.

“Be careful, it’s hot.” He warned, moving to put the plate down in front of you. But you took it from him with ease, thanking him with a cheerful smile. The waiter stares at you almost in shock, and Bucky can’t help but notice the steam rising off of the plate and the way your fingertips glow red. But you don’t flinch, barely even notice the way your fingertips shine at the onslaught of blisters ready to form.

Tony notices the peculiar interaction before touching the plate. He recoils, hissing loudly and dumping his fingers unceremoniously in his glass of water.

“Christ Y/N, that’s fucking burning.” He exclaims, and you simply laugh in response.

“I didn’t even notice. Must be too excited to eat it.” You respond, and Tony laughs as he shakes his head.

The kitchen is quiet as Bucky stirs the mixture delicately with a spatula. He couldn’t pronounce what he was making - it was a Sokovian dish Wanda had talked about months ago. Steve had told him that it was nearing Pietro’s anniversary and he wanted to do something nice for her - she had been helpful with his recovery back into normal life.

He enjoyed times like this; alone with his thoughts. He hummed a song he remembered hearing as a kid back in Brooklyn. His mother loved music. Bucky had three jobs at the time to save enough money to buy her a record player, and she would let him pick what record he wanted to listen to as she made supper. He remembers teaching Becca how to dance to his favourite song by letting her stand on his feet and guiding her around the living room.

Pouring the mixture onto a dish he puts it into the preheated oven and leans against the counter as he sets a timer. He doesn’t know how long he cleans up for before he hears soft footsteps padding into the kitchen. He recognises that it isn’t Steve (he knows what Steve’s walking sounds like), and when he turns round he sees you with a mishevield head of hair and a sleepy smile.

“Whatever you’re making smells amazing,” you say as you jump up on the countertop across from him, peeking into the oven. “What is it?”

“It’s for Wanda,” he says as he finishes drying off the last of the dishes and begins to put them into their cupboards. Anything to keep him distracted from how welcoming you look, sitting there in fuzzy socks and pyjamas. “I think it’s a cake.”

“You think it’s a cake?” You snort, and he manages a laugh.

“It’s Sokovian, so your guess is as good as mine.” he says, turning round to face you. “Why are you up so late?” He asks, wringing the slightly damp dish towel in his hands.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You say mischievously, but he notices the bags under your eyes. You sigh at his silence and shake your head. “That mission was rough. My mind is running a mile a minute.”

He frowns sympathetically at you. “What did you do out there? That mission was long - what was it, two weeks?”

“A month,” you say, and his eyebrows raise in surprise. “It was pretty grim, seen some things I wish I never had.”

He notices how standoff-ish you’re being with your answers, and decides not to push it any further.

You notice his understanding of your emotions, and are glad he doesn’t ask any more questions.

“Dinner was fun, wasn’t it?” He asks, and you quirk a brow.

“I thought Thai food wasn’t your thing.” You respond, and he manages a laugh.

“It’s not.” He answers truthfully, and you just laugh at him. “But it was your night, and I wanted to be there to celebrate with you.”

You smile at him, and he smiles back genuinely. His gaze drops quickly when he feels his cheeks begin to burn, and you open your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Why is this the longest conversation we’ve ever had?” You ask, and he sighs as he drops his head.

“I don’t-” He gets cut off by the beeping of the timer, and jumps to open the oven quickly. He grabs the tray with his metal arm - forgetting about the new heat sensors Stark had put in each of the fingers - and he yells out at the searing pain that quickly travels up his arm.

“Bucky!” You yell, jumping off of the counter and quickly catching the dish before it smashes on the ground.

“Wait, Y/N no-” Bucky watches - more in astonishment than awe - as you put the dish on the counter with ease and hold his hand, looking for any signs of damage.

“Can you move your fingers?” You ask, and when he doesn’t respond you look up to see him staring right back at you. “What is it?”

“How did you do that?” He asks, standing up straight with you.

“Do what?” You question, happily oblivious to how strange your actions were.

“You just held a searing hot glass bowl without even flinching. You did the same at the restaurant with the plate.” Your face grows hot at the realisation that he caught onto these little things, and you laugh awkwardly as you drop his hand.

“It’s uh- it’s embarrassing.” You admit, and Bucky tilts his head like a confused puppy.

“Y/N,” he says, and you sigh.

“When I was younger… I was never allowed to eat anything without my parent’s permission. So one night I decided to rebel and eat a whole carton of ice cream - without a spoon. I’ve lost all feeling in my finger tips because of it.” Bucky stares at you for what feels like eternity, before he bursts out laughing.

“Oh my God,” he manages through laughter and you shove his shoulder.

“It’s not funny!” You defend yourself, but the sight of tears of mirth rolling from his eyes has your doubled-over alongside him.

“Christ, Y/N,” he breathes out, wiping his face. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

You shrug with a cheeky smile on your face. “Now you know something about me that no one else does, and I’ll kill you if you ever tell anyone.” You threaten.

He grins, holding his hands up in defence. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

You smile, nudging his shoulder as you turn to make sure the dish didn’t get ruined. He watches you with a happy smile on his face. A sudden surge of confidence takes over him, and he inhales deeply.

“If you love ice cream so much, let me take you out to this ice cream parlour I know sometime.”

You turn back to him, and he grows bashful under your gaze. But you smile, reach out for his hand and give it a squeeze. “I’d love that.”

You both look at each other for a painfully long moment, and with the last ounce of confidence in his body Bucky leans down to capture your lips in his.

There is something Bucky knows about you that no one else does - what it feels like to kiss you in the early hours of the morning.

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musette22 · 3 years

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Hi Minnie, I think the reason why people hate Steve’s ending, apart from the fact of changing Peggys future, is that there’s no concrete answer about what he changed in the past? Also what about the rest of the Howling Commandos, do they know he’s alive?

Like do the writers expect this character who fights for the truth and what’s right and for the benefit of saving other people to just lay low and live a fantasy? One he’s terrible at being undercover (insert the mall/apple scene from tws) and he had to grow a beard from being recognised after Civil. War. I get that there’s less advanced tech in the past but this mans face was pretty much used for propaganda purposes wether it’s be military or politically, so chances are he’d be recognised. Secondly, the reason it’s unsatisfactory is because there’s so many unanswered questions and loose ends that don’t make sense. Third, where’s the Steve of that timeline, is he still in the ice??? If so it would have made more sense for that Steve to be with Peggy (cause bigotry and rampant homophobia) or hide somewhere with Bucky and our Steve to come back after telling them what needs to be changed. Did they really think Steve wouldn’t try and change that timeline to be better/safer. We all know he would destroy Hydra, save Bucky, talk to the Sorceress supreme and try and figure out the best way to change things and prevent incident from happening. Not sit back and give up, I’m pretty sure there’s a quote from the comics about Sarah telling Steve ‘not to go he up without a fight.’ Sorry for rambling but it’s been bugging me for a while, also I really appreciate how you take time from your day to simply answer everyone’s asks, absolutely my favourite blog on this side of the internet, I wish others could be as respectful and wonderful as you are. With love nonnie xx

Hello there, my darling ❤️ Thank you for this ask, and for your lovely words of appreciation, you’re too kind!! <3 I’m just so glad you enjoy my ramblings, that means a whole lot!

As for everything you said about Steve’s ending not making any sense: I could not agree more, as you know. It makes NO sense. They clearly just went with this ending because on the surface it looks ‘nice’ and if you don’t look too closely, and haven’t paid much attention to Steve’s character development throughout the movies, and you’re into cliché, heterosexual happy endings, then yeah, it’s a great ending! But as soon as you look even a little deeper than surface level, things start to fall apart. Even the writers and directors themselves can’t answer the questions you’re posing here conclusively, since they just keep contradicting each other whenever they’re asked about any of this 🙄 It was bad, lazy writing, no two ways about it.

Don’t apologise for rambling about this, love. It’s one of the most frustrating things ever and I personally will never stop tearing my hair out over the absolute rubbish that is Endgame’s ending.

#anti endgame #minnie answers #Anonymous

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studentville-struggles · 5 years

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James //Bucky Barnes

I got carried away, very sorry.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You and Bucky go undercover as a married couple at an Army, Navy benefit, things get a little heated as you take the rules into your own hands. Its all about professionalism after all.

Warnings: unproofread and all smut

Words: 4,300. oops

Masterlist.

My first real smut so any feedback would be more than welcome

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“Abort cover name. I repeat abort cover name, there are people who know me.” Well shit.

You and Bucky were the only two on the ground for this mission. It was an Army-Navy benefit in Portsmouth England, and Bucky’s love of 40’s slang and your English upbringing made you both ideal for the job. The job itself was relatively simple; get as much information as possible and start finding the mole in the Royal Navy.

Your cover for the evening was as a Lieutenant and as Bucky’s wife. You had initially thrown a small tantrum at Steve asking why being a successful Army woman wasn’t enough, though calmed once Steve explained the main target of interrogation would be easier to influence if you could gain the trust of his wife.

You were in a red full-length ball gown, confident as ever mingling with those around. You hadn’t seen Bucky since arriving, him heading into the officer's mess. Having claimed it would be an insult to be ranked less than you were, your eye-roll may as well have been out loud, Bucky was taking up the role as Captain James White.

It was as you walked into the main room of the benefit, checking the table arrangements when you saw a few familiar names. Of course, with the military history in your home town, it was unsurprising someone from your school had progressed enough to be at the benefit. Immediately you informed the team via comms to drop your cover name, but not the mission.

Just as well you did, as soon as you entered the main room a familiar voice called out, almost in shock.

“Y/N? Y/N Y/L/N?” Yay for school friends.

“Jack, hello. Long-time, no see.” If there’s anyone who could blow this whole thing for you, it was him. Out of the names you recognise Jack knew you the best.

“Very. When the hell did you sign up for the Army?” Time to see just how well you knew your cover story.

“Commissioned 8 years ago. Must be similar to you joining the Navy, no?”

“Yeah. Lonely life? What you always said about being in the forces.” Jack had always been a twat. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. He’d been lovely until after being very persistent in asking you out, you’d had enough and told him to back off. Since then; you avoided the confrontation he brought. Shortly after his enquiry into your love life, you saw Bucky approach you with a winning smile appearing as you made eye contact. Turning back to Jack you replied.

“Oh how I was wrong.” Bucky was at your side now, smiling down at you. You were playing the part of a doting married couple almost too well.

Bucky’s arrival had wiped the smug look off Jack’s face. You knew he could read a ranking from a uniform. Even if he couldn’t, Jack was average in every way, Bucky was effectively a Greek God. He may have been your teammate, but you weren’t blind. He was fit as fuck, especially for a 100 year old man.

“Captain James White, Army, nice to meet you.” Bucky extending hand in introduction.

“Chief Petty Officer Jack Boulton, Navy.” He responded, shaking his hand. “Captain? How old are you.” Jack raised an eyebrow at his rank.

Bucky had a shit eating grin on his face, with a chuckle he replied. “Older than I look”

“James..” You warned him, dragging his name out as you placed a hand on his chest.

“So you found love with an Army man?” Jack turned back to you, nodding to your position against Bucky. “Funny, I distinctly remember you telling me you couldn’t be with someone in the forces.”

“Now when was this?” Bucky interrupted, arm tightening around your waist. “Can’t be tonight given we’ve been married, oh, how many years sugar?” Jacks eyes were blown wide at the mention of marriage.

“Four years darling,” You recited from your cover story. “Jack and I knew each other in high school.”

Jack let out a ‘hmpf’, clearly unhappy with the evenings developments thus far and Bucky, for reasons you couldn’t gather, was loving it.

“So was my wife always this beautiful then?” He teased, twirling you round in your dress before pulling you nearly flush against him. Looking over at Jack, you could see him nearly boiling over.

“Distinctly average to be honest.” He gritted out, seemingly not over the childishness of your usual encounters.

“That can’t be true given how persistent you were with her.” Bucky pressed a light kiss to your forehead whilst you wondered how on earth Bucky knew that?

“James.” You warned him again. Jack was bright red at this point, clearly pissed.

As he was stuttering out something indignant, Bucky leant down to whisper in your ear, although clearly loud enough for Jack to hear.

“You can’t say my name like that out here doll, making me feel that way. You know the rules about uniform.” You presumed it was all for the act, protecting the mission.

Placing a hand on his collar, pretending to straighten it for him, you responded with a sultry edge to your voice.

“Technically you’re the only one in uniform Captain. I’m free to do whatever.” The low grunt that escaped from Bucky could not have been rehearsed no matter how he tried. You had been referencing the ‘professionalism in uniform’ rule the forces had; restricting public displays of affection when in uniform.

With all this in front of him, Jack stormed off. All questions surrounding yourself and Bucky replaced with irritation and anger.

Taking a step back from Bucky, you suggested looking for your seats at the dinner table next to your mark. You failed to notice the way Bucky’s eyes had darkened. You also wrongly assumed the way he held you slightly in front of him as you stood chatting to couples en route was merely part of his married act, and not a way to cover the bulge in his dress trousers.

The evening continued as smoothly as you could have imagined. Your marks wife was even chattier than you imagined, evidently unaware of her husband's treacherous activities. Using your budding ‘friendship’ Bucky had managed to introduce himself to your mark, bonding over the classic ‘clearly our wives are enjoying themselves’ and soon enough had exchanged enough pleasantries to join your girly conversation.

All guests were staying in the old Army building, refurbished as a hotel. You had been hoping to chat about your findings back at your room, but as luck would have it, your mark and his wife, ended up at the doors next to your own.

His wife bid you goodnight with a wink and parting comment. “Don’t keep us up now lovebirds.”

Entering your room, you were expecting Bucky to drop his smooth husband act, and turn back to the quiet reserved man you were accustomed to. Instead, Bucky passed you, opening the balcony doors and turning the radio on, Classic FM filling the room.

“Bu-” You didn’t even get half his name out when Bucky had a hand over your mouth silencing you.

Pulling you close to him, Bucky leaned in and turned your comms back on, doing the same for his own. He placed one of your hands on his shoulder, keeping the other in his. Spinning you around in a slow waltz, similar to what you had done earlier in the night.

“Come in Steve.” Bucks voice was low, his head touching yours. To anyone looking in it would appear as though you were dancing lovingly with your spouse.

“Yes Buck.” The voice loud in your ear.

“So, our mark is in the room next to ours. Debrief and extraction is going to have wait until tomorrow. We cannot break cover until tomorrow, may still hear something.”

This explained the music, the dancing and the lingering softness.

“Understood. Maintain cover, extract 1500 tomorrow.” With that you heard Steve turn comms off once more.

It felt different this time. Maintaining your cover in a room of people was easy, in your room alone the tension was different. You moved out to the balcony, turning slowly to the music spilling out of your room. You knew it was to try and see into your marks room, Bucky’s super soldier hearing allowing him to hear murmurs.

“You look beautiful tonight.” Bucky’s whisper caught you off guard. You lifted your head from his shoulder to look up at him.

“And you look very handsome in your uniform James.” The way you said his name was intoxicating. Bucky had never heard his name sound so good, he wished he could act on feelings you stirred within him, his fear of your rejection and the unprofessionalism keeping him in check.

“What did I say about professionalism and saying my name like that doll.” Bucky reminded you, trying to keep his thoughts on the movements next door and not how he wished to make you say his name over and over again.

“He’s right, you two will get written up if you continue the way you are. Surely that’s far too much body contact for being in uniform.” You felt Bucky tense up against you. Your mark making an appearance, perhaps his suspicions rising.

Taking matters into your own hands, you placed both your hands on Bucky’s chest, just below his collar, looking over to the next balcony, you smile at your mark.

“Your right, perhaps its better if we get you out of that uniform then. Wouldn't want you get you in trouble, hmm James?” You turned back to Bucky, his eyes still on you, bottom lips drawn in between his teeth.

“How long did you say you’d been married?” You had a feeling the look Bucky was giving you was raising more suspicions around your marriage. It was as if he’d never seen you like this before. Your marks question seemingly bringing him back to reality.

He pulled you flush against him, dress blowing in the wind. “Four years, April 23rd, International lovers day.” Bucky replied, adding all the detail. Turning to your mark, he had a soft smile on his lips. “Every days still feels like the first day she said she was mine.”

That wasn’t in your file. You had nothing to respond with.

“Oh James. Always so soft.” Your response was quiet as you wrapped an arm around his neck, snuggling up against him. Bucky was beside himself, having you so close to him he didn’t dare let you go. He wrapped his arms tightly round you, careful not to move his arm so much his jacket sleeve revealed the metal beneath.

“Well aren’t you two adorable.” The wife had joined you know, clearly wondering what he husband was doing. You smiled at her as she stepped out.

“Where did you say you got engaged?” Your mark was clearly suspicious, still querying your covers.

“Brooklyn, New York.” You replied, Bucky’s head snapping towards you. “In a shawarma shop of all places.”

In truth, no location had been given in the file, figuring no one would go so in depth. The story you gave was a true one, but instead of an engagement it had been where you met Bucky for the first time, at your welcome meal.

“Well it was the right moment you know?” Bucky turned back towards the other couple, diligently playing the romantic. Except to him it wasn’t an act. He had been blown over when he first met you, he wasn’t sure how he ever survived that meal. He’d have sworn he hadn’t taken a breath the whole evening.

Bucky still had his arms around you, though one arm had relaxed enough to drop to the base of your back, his hand dangerously close to your ass. He was painfully aware of where you were, where your body was flush against his.

You had noticed his cover was a little lop sided as you were speaking. Not wanting it to fall, you raised to your tip-toes, straightening it on his head with the gentlest touches. Unfortunately for Bucky, in the process, his hand was now square on your ass, and your breasts were now pressed against him, two things he was oh so painfully aware of.

“Now, now, you two. Subtleties can result in trouble.” The voices of your marks seemed once again to be the only thing to draw Bucky back.

“You’re right.” Bucky had that 40’s charm switched on. You could hear the change in his voice. “I think you’re right baby, best get out my uniform before we cause a scene.” Bucky had his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you back down against him. His lips caught yours as he quickly walked you back into room, leaning you against the base of your bed.

You were quick to react, your arms flung to his collar, pulling him as close to your body as possible. His kiss was something you never knew you needed until you had tasted him and you weren’t sure you could cope without again. All you heard from the balcony outside was your marks wife shouting a quick “We would still like some sleep tonight!”

Bucky’s lips didn’t leave your skin for a second. They were everywhere he could feel, and everywhere he kissed was a trail of skin alive, burning under his touch. His lips were attached to the sweet spot on your neck, drawing a soft ‘James’ from your lips.

“Doll you gotta stop saying that I won’t be able to control myself much longer.” Bucky all but growled out at you.

“Oh stop being dramatic James and kiss me.” You pulled him back towards you, needing to feel him on you again.

“What do you say sugar, gonna get me out my uniform before we get in trouble?”

Not needing a second introduction you pounced on him, pulling his cover and tie off quickly. Bucky was impressed with how quickly you made off with his shirt, the buttons seemingly melting off his shirt.

You kissed down his neck, his shoulder and started down his chest. You had seen Bucky shirtless in training before but my god did he take your breath away. You made quick work of his trousers next, leaving him in his boxers in front of you.

“As much as this dress ruins me, I need to feel you. Turn around for me babygirl.” You nearly moaned out at his words, responding wordlessly.

Bucky quickly unzipped you, his hands immediately reaching around to pull you flush against him. You could feel everything, and Bucky was blessed. You moaned out at the contact, only clad in little silk panties.

“No bra, doll? Are you trying to kill me?”

Again the only word from your lips was his name. “James.”

Whipping you around, Bucky growled against your lips, pushing you onto the bed this time, climbing up after you.

“Such a tease, all night long hmm. Hand on my thigh all dinner. Christ baby I nearly came at the table when you giggled in my ear.”

Bucky was whispering events from the night in your ear. You hadn’t noticed the effect you had on him although the pieces were falling together. The way he had so protectively held onto you, always in contact, holing you close, was not an act.

“and that dress, doll, that dress. You looked delicious and so gracefully moving around. Wanted to eat you up.” His words had more of an effect than he could have known.

You bucked your hips up, trying to get more contact with him. He was so in his head with the memories of you teasing him, he hadn’t noticed. Fed up of him not helping you, you had to take matters into your own hands.

“Oh for fucks James.” Bucky thought he’d overstepped the mark, pulling away from you. He was about to apologise when you used the extra space to flip him over so you could straddle him. You left a moan slip as you felt him against your core. Realising your reaction, Bucky grabbed your hips, grinding his hips up to yours. The moan that you released was music to his ears, but also had him harder than he had ever heard before.

“Sugar, let me kiss you. Please.”

You reached for him with both hands, pulling his face to yours once more. This time it was Bucky who moaned. Both of you had hands running everywhere, memorising the other by touch.

“Need you James.” You whispered into his ear and Bucky nearly came then and there.

“You sure baby?” Bucky stopped looking deep into your eyes. “This goes as far as you want it to.” Always such a gentleman, you just wished for once he could forget that and take you as you need.

“James.” You started, pushing him back down on the bed. “I swear to god if you don’t fuck me in the next minute I will arrange divorce papers.” A small twang hit Bucky’s chest. You weren’t still doing all this for the mission were you? The part of him so overwhelming desperate for you quickly calmed that though.

Bucky pulled you into his lap, his strained erection pressing against your thigh. Feverish kisses were placed along your neck, the feeling against your skin made you feel as though you would never breath again, his lips pulling every breath from your lips. The sound you made when his lips made their way to your breasts the softest kiss placed upon your nipple, was one Bucky swore he would never forget. The way your eyes fluttered shut, mouth slightly agape, was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on.

As his lips became rougher, sucking and leaving little marks across your skin, your voice became stronger, his name leaving your lips each time louder than the last. A soft chuckle left your lips as Bucky sloppily tried to roll the two of you over, legs still entangled. All he could mutter was ‘just need to feel you’ over and over again.

The feeling of teeth against your skin pulled your eyes down, Bucky removing the silk panties from you with his teeth.

“Apparently you don’t need to feel me that urgently.” You teased, and christ you thought his reaction was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. With his winning smirk, he merely ripped you panties off, winking at you mouth agape stare, before kissing your clit. Again, you could but moan.

“It’s definitely been a minute James” You reminded him, still needing more.

“Just wanna make you feel good doll.” He delver back in, licking a stripe up your core, before sucking on your clit longer, drawing a string of profanities from your sweet lips. It was intoxicating.

Within minutes Bucky had you writhing underneath him, the way his tongue was working your slit driving you wild. Each time you moaned his name, Bucky thought he was about to come undone and you had barely touched him.

“James, James please.” You were so passed dignity, begging was needed. He only hummed against your core.

“God please use your hands, please.” This made Bucky stop and look at you.

“Tell me baby, what do you want?”

“Use your fingers, make me cum all over your face so I can taste you.” Bucky had never heard such dirty but wonderful words.

He got straight to work, his fingers curling inside you, drawing the most delicious sound from you. It wasn’t long before you were coming undone, Buckys tongue on your clit combined with his fingers knuckles deep was incredible.

“Eyes on me princess wanna watch you cum.”

You came with his name a prayer on your tongue and Bucky thought he’d never tasted anything so sweet. Soon enough you were pulling him up, the need to taste him urgent. Colliding his lips on yours you tasted yourself, feeling Bucky smile against you.

You felt so smooth against his skin, his heart full simply from making you cum. He could barely contain himself as you pushed him onto his back, kissing down his chest. When he felt your lips on his hips, hands on his boxers, Bucky thought he was going to die, heart beating out of his chest.

Before he knew, his cock was free, bouncing off his stomach. He heard another soft ‘James’ slip through your lips and felt his cock twitch. You and his name, it was going to be his undoing. You kissed lightly the whole way up his length, tongue sliding over his head. It was your turn to be intoxicated. The whimpers and groans spilling from Bucky’s lips made you want more. You took as much of him into your mouth as you could, hollowing your cheeks.

“Y/N” Your name spilling from his lips was magical.

As you felt him hit the back of your throat you could only push further, the strangled cries coming from Bucky better than any liquor you had ever tasted. It spurred you on, wanting to feel him come undone to your tongue, as you had to him. Before you could, Bucky’s hands on your head pulling you off him, desperately trying to regain some composure. The string of spit that maintained a sort of contact between your lips and his cock made Bucky weak.

“Baby, you’re going to ruin me with those pretty lips of yours.” He kissed you once again, the urgency and passion easy to feel. “But I gotta be in you, doll, I need to feel you.” You moaned against him.

You lay, Bucky between your legs, metal digits doing wonders on your clit. Moaning again, you tried to hurry him, legs pulling his hips towards you.

“Okay doll, spread those pretty legs for me.” Immediately you complied, not wanting to delay this any further.

Bucky rolled his hips forward in one smooth motion, not stopping until his hips touched yours. Inch by inch, your body and voice responding. Once fully inside you, he stopped moving altogether, knowing you’d need to adjust to his super soldier size. The lack of movement had you grumbling immediately

“Say the word doll.” He smirked down at you.

“Please.” You begged Bucky.

“You know what to say, doll.” Bucky jutted his hips forward for added effect

“James.” You moaned loudly.

“That’s it darling, say my name. Let ‘em all know who’s making you feel like this.” Bucky started thrusting again, needing to hear you moan his name again.

Profanities filled the room, your nails marking Bucky’s back as he filled you over and over again. Lips on skin at every opportunity. The sound of skin on skin was louder than it ever had been, every sense seemed heightened.

Bucky leaned forward to feel as much of you on him as possible. You gripped onto his shoulder, not wanting to lose contact, the way his hips moved taking you higher than you had been in a long time.

“James, baby, you feel so good.” You mewled into his ear, words alone taking him closer to his high.

“Doll, you’re so good.” The tone in his voice letting you know exactly the effect you were having on him.

“Yeah, my pretty little pussy making you come undone?” Bucky’s moan in response was louder than you had heard.

“Tell me James.” Your teeth nipping his ear. “I need to hear you baby.”

“Fuck darling, you feel so good around my cock.”

“Yes!” You moaned and writhed under him.

“Wanna feel you come undone in my arms baby, can you do that?” You could only nod as his lips attached your neck, marking you once more.

“Babygirl, you gotta talk to me, need to here you,” Who would’ve thought James Buchanan Barnes needed dirty talk to get him off?

“James, make me cum please, fill me up.” His thrusts were getting sloppy now, you could feel him throbbing.

He moved a hand, fingers finding a home on your clit, rubbing circles as your eyes roll back. Sloppy thrusts and this extra attention making you quiver and shake.

“Say my name baby.” Bucky whispered into your ear, applying extra pressure to your clit, making you see stars.

And his name was on your lips, louder than ever before, the sound triggering Bucky’s own release, your name on his lips.

As you came down from your highs, sweaty bodies entangled into one form, you couldn’t help but snuggle against Buckys bare form. The action made his heart sore, but the doubt from early returned with a new weight.

Sitting up in the bed, Bucky’s movements making you do the same.

“You okay love?” You enquired.

“I..” Nervous Bucky was back. “You said..” He trailed off once more. You snuggled up to him, suddenly feeling the cold.

As you wrapped your arms around his torso, you replied. “I said a lot of things just now, you’ll need to narrow it down a bit.

Bucky sighed “You mentioned divorce papers at the start.. This wasn’t.. Were you..”

“Doing it for the cover?” you finished for him.

Bucky thought this was your response and hung his head in disappointment. Grabbing his chin in one hand you forced him to look at you as you planted a soft kiss on his lips. His eyes fluttered shut momentarily.

“If that was for the cover then I’m not going to the extraction point. Buck’ you’re incredible.” You whispered, lips brushing against his with every word.

Pulling you onto his lap, Bucky kissed you furiously.

“Baby, we still need to sleep.” You giggled, feeling Bucky harden under you. “We’ve got all morning my love.”

“Wanna make love to you.” Bucky whispered against your skin, lips brushing your neck.

“Can we at least shut the balcony doors this time?”

#studentville-struggles #rachel tries to write #smut #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes drabble #bucky smut #bucky barnes x reader #avengers smut #avengers x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier smut #Bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #james bucky buchanan barnes #Bucky x reader smut

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larissaloki · 5 years

Text

Weapons on me

This is my first Bucky x reader (plus sized reader) as @beardburnsupersoldiers and @starsofyggdrasil wanted more reader inserts for those that are deemed big by society. So a lot of body positivity is being written and i have more small oneshots for both bucky and steve and even one three way coming. I have a non-binary/genderfluid oneshot planned and an ace one and if i get to it a gay one as well. :) i also take commions if people want a specific one that I haven’t got planned yet. Anyhow enjoy and only positive feedback please.

Curiously, you watched Natasha and Bucky lay out their weapons across 3 tables, on the floor is still more bags filled with even more weapons. Your eyes widen with each new addition to the table, each one more dangerous than the last, and you are pretty sure that at least half of these weapons are illegal in the USA and have no clue what some are called.

Once most are laid out on the tables, Natasha and Bucky pull up some chairs and grab their cleaning equipment. With sure confident hands they both start different ends of a table. Expertly taking apart and cleaning the pieces before re-assembling each weapon, the movements almost graceful.

“How many do you guys have?” Unable to keep quiet, brushing back stray strands of hair from your eyes that are open wide still as you gawk at a sword? You think it’s a sword…it looks wickedly sharp and you’re sure if you took one more step in its direction you would gain a cut from it.

Grinning impishly, Bucky sharpens and diligently clean one of his favourite daggers, on its end is a scorpion-like decorative handle. You recognise it as a gift Tony had brought back from Egypt. Winking at you, Bucky places it back down carefully.

“We gotta have a good selection for different missions,” he drawls, his voice low and soft, it feels like you’re being wrapped in blankets when he speaks low, a soft rumble. Faint blush dust’s your cheek as you pull a cushion to your chest, playing with the soft fluff that covers it.

“Then why do you always use the same ones?”

Smirking, Natasha glances up at Bucky as she cleans her widow bites. Last mission she had gotten blood in the works

“She’s got you there,”

Flipping Natasha off, Bucky picks up a rifle and sets about stripping it apart carefully.

“I happen to have favourites that are great for all missions!”

Looking back at you, Bucky smiles warmly before turning back to his work. You’ve both have only been dating 3 months, and yet sometimes you still couldn’t believe that Bucky had asked you out.

You would have thought that he would have gone for someone like Natasha; someone thin and petite. Someone who in your mind was the definition of beauty but no, he asked you. You who was definitely not petite nor stick thin; your body was a more pear-shaped body, curvaceous and soft. You are what society would call plus size, but Bucky called you beautiful. He said your body was filled with love because of your compassionate nature, he often gushed about how soft you were to cuddle. When you asked why he went for someone larger than society deemed appropriate, he only replied with-

“If I wanted a thin girlfriend, I’d attach a fleshlight to a rake”

That comment still made you giggle at the ridiculous image in your head.

What had started as a mishap in an airport had turned into the best relationship you could have asked for. Bucky was so sweet and gentle with you, often bringing you back gifts from his missions and sending you flowers every so often with the cheesiest poems ever.

In fact, you still keep each poem in a box by your bed back at home.

“How many weapons can you hide on your bodies at once?” A question that had often crossed your mind, morbid curiosity taking over you moved over to Bucky’s side, pulling up a chair to watch. The smell of gun oil and leather invading your senses. A smell that you have come to love recently.

Glancing at you knowingly as Bucky catches you inhaling deeply, he shuffles closer to kiss you sweetly. Humming thoughtfully as he pulls away, Bucky seems to think about your question seriously.

“Hmm, if my goal is to put on as many weapons…I could probably get around 30? More if most are small blades. Good for undercover missions or if you are likely to get caught, more small blades you have on you the less likely they are to all be found. Handy to pick locks with”

Smirking he points to a small collection of small blades on the table to the left of you. The small collection must consist of at least 50 blades if not more. Each small blade looks sharp but not exactly dangerous.

“They don’t look exactly fatal?”

It’s Natasha that answers her this time.

“I use them for lock picking and getting out of restraints, their also handy to cover in poison or a paralysing liquid. You hide the blade in your mouth or hair if you are immune to it and use the blade to cut your target”

“…how many dangerous substances are you both immune to?”

The silence that followed chilled you, just thinking about the training they must have each had to endure to become immune to such dangerous things, scared you. Pushing those thoughts aside for now, you ask about the various other weapon that lay upon the tables, patiently the assassin duo take turns telling you about each one you point to and how best to use them.

Pulling you to the side after cleaning, Bucky takes a few more hours teaching you how to safely handle some of the less dangerous weapons and how best to conceal them on your body should you need to. Bucky always takes time to make sure to teach you some self defence, saying that just for being associated with any of the avengers you needed to be able to defend your self. Enough that you can get chances to run away from the attacker.

He teaches you to use your size to your advantage and even tells her that her body size is more ideal as you are harder to conceal yourself and heavier to pick up. Making fighting back more in your favour, plus your feisty attitude makes you an intimidating opponent which Bucky always seems proud of.

For fun you all decide to see how many weapons you can hide on your body. You manage to conceal nearly 40 weapons making Natasha pout in envy.

#larissaloki #bucky barnes #marvel #james bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #winter soldier #reader #reader insert #bucky x reader #plus size #positivity #body posititivity

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that-witch-bastard · 5 years

Text

A spy for hire

Sophie Nicholson takes matters into her own hands.

PART ONE

Bucky x OC

Description: A freelance spy goes off the grid to resurface in a HYDRA facility. She aims to take the organization down, but before she does that, she finds out the truth about Sgt James B. Barnes.

Word count: 1601

Warnings: HYDRA!Bucky, undercover!HYDRA!OC, slow burn, injury, Soldating, minor character deaths

italics - journal entries

normal letters - action

If they find this journal, I’m dead.

On the other hand, if I die without having written everything down, it will all be for nothing. My name is Sophie Nicholson. I’m a freelance special agent. I trained to be an expert in combat, espionage, intelligence, languages. Now I do jobs for hire, some for the good guys, some for the not-so-good guys. About two years ago I got my hands on a classified file, concerning something called Zimniy Soldat. The Winter Soldier, also known as the Asset. The file described the physical change all the Assets had to go through to become a weapon in the hands of HYDRA. Contrary to popular belief, HYDRA didn’t end with the death of Johann Schmidt but lived inside SHIELD like a parasite. I heard some rumours going about the intelligence community, but I never really believed them. I’m on my own, so I make my own decisions. Not having anyone to love, anyone for HYDRA to use against me is my biggest strength. I’m not just going to mess with HYDRA, like so many before me tried to do. It doesn’t work. I’m going to end it.

Something happened on the outside, in the real world. I can hear them talking in the corridors. One of the Soldat failed. I didn’t know which one, I didn’t even know it was possible. I know everything they did to those people. I worked to make the process less and less efficient over the years. I was undermining HYDRA’s work, destroying them from the inside. Still, watching the helpless victims of a monstrous crime killed me little by little. How they trained them, armed them, made them forget everything and everyone they had ever known. When the first process was finished, they would freeze them until they had need of them. Assassination after assassination, death after death, bombing after bombing, the Assets would wreak havoc upon the already fragile world.

The brutes who were here longer than me were higher up the chain of command and were the ones who chose the Soldiers to do hits were the worst people I had ever met. And I’ve met a lot of people. I have never seen them or talked to them, but I knew. At the very beginning of my so-called work at the facility, I noticed that one of the Soldiers was an apparent favourite of those sadists. He wasn’t special, the others could have done everything he did just as well, some of them even better. About six months ago I found out the poor creature’s name and story.

He was one James Buchanan Barnes, captured after storming a train containing Dr Arnim Zola, back during WWII. He was, or so the records said, one of the Howling Commandos, led by Steven Grant Rogers, also known as Captain America. That was just plain weird. My supervisors must be great fans of irony. He became the focus of my work here. I am hoping to get him out. The comms in my ear beeped in code. I must go now.

They have brought Sgt Barnes back from the outside, from a mission. He was sitting in the prepping chair, a dozen people fussing over him. His left arm, made of Vibranuim, was being mended. Something wasn’t right. His expression was confused. It shouldn’t be. The agents and doctors were equally confused. I wasn’t. He must have been the one who failed at a mission. Would it be too big a leap of faith to say that he was remembering?

“The man on the bridge. Who was he?” – he asked. A voice answered, “You met him on an assignment earlier this week”. He was standing with his back to me, I didn’t know who he was. “But I knew him”, said James, pouting.

Fireworks were off in my head. Yea! He was remembering. My work is a success.

The man who answered him sighed and told the assistants to “prep him”. They put something to bite on in the sergeant’s mouth.

That was my cue. Quick as a cat, I whipped a gun out of my thigh holster (hidden under my lab coat) and shot almost all the people in the room. As could be expected, they shot back. I rolled under a table and kept shooting until there were only two people left in the room. Me and the Winter Soldier. During the commotion I caused, I recognised the new man. It was Alexander Pierce, the head of HYDRA. How I wish I would have shot him. I would have saved the world a mountain of trouble. I put my gun away and ran over to Sgt Barnes. I took the plastic out of his mouth.

“Come on, we need to go” – he only looked at me, his eyes unfocused. I shook his shoulder, at which he grabbed my arm and locked his eyes with mine. A definitive “don’t”.

“Sgt.Barnes, we need to leave. Now!” – his grip tightened. I had to convince him to leave with me. I didn’t want to give him orders.

“Bucky!” – I yelled – “Come on, if they find us here, we’re dead” – blinding pain shot up my left arm, I heard a sickening crunch. He broke my arm!

I hate myself for what I did next, but there was no other way. I didn’t want him to get his memory wiped, all my hard work would mean nothing if he forgot again. I put so much effort into destroying the memory wiping machinery. But we had to run, so I did exactly what Pierce did.

“Soldat, otvedi menya v angar”

He got up and I thought he was going to kill me, but no. He grabbed my legs and slung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He ran through what seemed to be an endless corridor, into an elevator. With his metal finger, he pressed one of the buttons. Had it not been for the blinding pain radiating from my left arm, I would have been laughing.

There I was, carried like a bale of hay by one of the most dangerous men in the world and the elevator is playing one of those annoying songs they play in the elevators. The ride ended with a ding. Luckily, the hangar was empty. In the far corner, I spotted something distantly resembling a helicopter. I learned how to pilot those when I was 12.

“Podpisyvaytes’ na menya” – I led him to the helicopter. I kept reassuring myself, that I was doing it all for the greater good. I was getting him out, I was helping.

We got to the chopper and I climbed inside. He stood out there, unmoving, dangerously focused. Not a good sign. I was crying by then.

“You’re really making me do this? Idi vnutr’” – He sat in the back. I started the engine and flew out. I had no idea where I was, but I had a plan. I switched into autopilot and leaned in the back to search for a first-aid kit. I needed to stabilise my arm, then I could navigate. I had a flat in Bucharest, I spoke Romanian and so did my passenger. I didn’t know what to do next. I just wanted to get him out of there.

I didn’t find the kit, but James did. I half-smiled and made to grab it, but he wouldn’t give it to me. With his raspy voice, he said:

“You can’t do it with one hand” – and without further ado, he started to clean my wound. He stabilised it with two sticks and wrapped it with a clean bandage. A perfect paradox.

I was so surprised, but at the same time so grateful, that I let him do it. He was right. I couldn’t have done it alone. After he finished, he put the kit away and sat down with his head buried in his palms. Not for long, though. I was checking my emergency backpack for spare ammo when he got up, slid the door open and jumped. I screamed. The altitude was 1500 ft. I calmed down after a bit. He was trained to do this, he’s not going to die. At least not from the jump. I could finally see where we were. It must have been DC. Three helicarriers were taking off the ground. There was fighting. I took the wheel and steered right, into the biggest mess. I was a good pilot, I wanted to see what was going on, maybe even help.

I didn’t get to do any of that. My tail was shot off by someone. I was going in circles, the ground much closer than I would have liked. I knew I would die if I didn’t do something. My mind was working at a lightning speed. I couldn’t jump. I’d die. No parachute. I vaguely remembered that in the HYDRA choppers there was a secret cryochamber hidden underneath the back seats. But it was designed for the Soldat, my mortal body couldn’t take it. There was only one way. I grabbed for my backpack. There, hidden in the lining was a syringe, containing HYDRA’s newest invention. I managed to swipe it one day. It was some sort of growth serum, it made you stronger, quicker, more durable, so to speak. Without thinking much, I shot myself up with it. Almost at once, my whole body was burning. The only logical thing to do was to crawl into the cryochamber and freeze. The last thing I felt before the chopper exploded was relief and pleasant cold.

#bucky #bucky barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #Sebastian Stan

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whitefoxed · 3 years

Text

Mission on a Date

Thread Archive

winter-soldier-asset-bucky‌:

HYDRA had taught their asset to be both fast and perfect. Any task he was given, be that memorization or assassination, he would always strive to perform at optimal levels. He need to have the stamina and mental capacity to do so and yet right after the chair, he was deficient in both. His physical parameters returned faster than the mental ones. However, he was sure he had memorized everything from the mission files. There was no room for mistakes, no place for error in the soldier’s programming. He had his mission and therefore he must complete it perfectly in order to please HYDRA and his commander. Watching the other man closely, he tried to form his own answers to the questions he had asked. Learning was part of the asset’s main functions, but only in certain instances. He was meant to learn only those things which would assist in the completion of his mission.

Commander Vuhs…The words sparked a little line of thought in the soldier’s mind. However, it fizzled out before he could become anything stable, like the ghost of something long forgotten. The asset knew he forgot many things because HYDRA did not deem the information to be important. This mission would not be wiped completely from his mind. He knew undercover operations were rare and thus that was likely why. His commander said there were training aspects as well, which would be important for future missions. “Sergei,” he repeated, testing out the name without any sort of title attached to it. His drive to at least add ‘sir’ was strong and yet his commander said his name was only ‘Sergei’ during this mission.

To the soldier, ‘friends’ seemed like a subset of ‘allies’, a special type of ally that assumed more freedom and equal footing between the parties involved in the alliance. Never had the soldier had a ‘friend’ before or, if he had, that data had been removed from him. Protect. Spend time together. He was meant to always protect his commanders and be close to them, but they were not ‘friends’. He concluded that the freedom to question was a central part of friendship. Questioning a commander under normal circumstances was incorrect and resulted in punishment.

“Yes, sir,” he answered. ‘Wolf’ denoted normal mission protocols. ‘Yasha’ stated that ‘friend’ protocol was being initiated instead. Being a human, pretending to be one at least, would be hard for the soldier. He had been taught for so long that he was not a person. Interacting with the public would have to be done mostly by his commander. Other agents had said he was ‘creepy’ when he looked at them so perhaps he would be bad with civilians. Once they left the base, he would need to immediately begin acting as a ‘friend’. “I am ready, sir.”

Relieved that his answer was at least satisfactory enough for the soldier to understand, Lise breathed out with a smile. “Good.” Gesturing to the clothes and gear on the table, he continued. “Change into these and equip with discretion.” They were plain clothes, gotten at sizes meant for the soldier: a simple brick-red shirt, navy windbreaker, jeans and socks. A pair of the soldier’s newest combat boots from two missions ago were also present. Missions wear through even the toughest of boots quite quickly. The gear were the soldier’s familiar sheathed knives, though the semi-automatic handguns were a custom model Lise built. Compact and small, but almost as quiet as if equipped with a silencer.

The sniper rifle was in the luggage along with their extra ammunition.

Lise got up himself to go to his own office to change. His set of clothes and equipment were in there. Soon he came back out in a navy bomber jacket, even darker navy shirt and black pants. His gear were a lot less than the soldiers- being a single handgun he hid behind his back and a knife in his own boots. Looking over to make sure the soldier’s dressed, he stepped closer to help him straighten up his clothes where the blindspots were and took a comb out of his pocket to tame the soldier’s messy hair. The armoury lacked mirrors.

Once they were done, he nodded. “Grab that grey luggage, let’s go.” His own luggage was blue, which he pulled before leading the way out. Locking the armoury, Lise led the soldier to the compound’s car park. There were stares along the way, as well as a few teasing jibes. He couldn’t fault them- it was rare seeing anyone dressed for a ‘holiday’ on the compounds.

Unlocking the Prius, he got their luggage in the back before heading to the driver’s seat. “Take the passenger’s seat.” He instructed as he got in. The car was modified of course, though it looked every bit the normal RV driven on the roads. Going through several checkpoints, they were finally driving out towards a highway when Lise began his first training session. “So Yasha, try picking a radio station you’d like.” He nodded to the digital screen in the centre of the dashboard. “The buttons are all on screen now. Dragging your finger changes the pages. Feel free to explore, just don’t break it.”

winter-soldier-asset-bucky‌:

“Yes, sir,” the soldier replied, words falling from his mouth as they always did. He would never question his commanding officer unless given permission. Even then, he was hesitant to do so. A good weapon worked with the information it was given, did not seek out more than that. Turning to the clothes, he began pulling them off. His movements were quick and efficient. Even in such a simple task, there was no wasted energy. The gear was much less form fitting than he was used to and contained significantly less straps and pockets. Without them, the soldier could not carry all of his usual weapons easily. However,this was what his handler had given him to wear and he would obey.

While his commander was gone, he settled the weapons onto his body. Anything that did not have a place was stored in the luggage. Missions of any great length required a large amount of ammunition, even though the soldier was perfectly accurate. In case something went wrong or they were attacked, there needed to be plenty in order to defend themselves. Going to a shop for more, or even just a HYDRA weapons cache, was risky in the middle of an operation. No. It was best to bring slightly more than absolutely necessary. His head turned when he noticed his commander had come back for him. Stiffening, he made no move to avoid the touch to his clothing. For a moment, he thought he was going to be punished for dressing incorrectly, but no pain came. Instead, the clothing was only smoothed down or adjusted and his hair combed a bit.

Again, he gave an affirmative response and obeyed, taking the luggage in his flesh hand and carrying it as he followed behind his commander. He did not look at the agents they passed in the hallways and in the car park. There was no reason for him to do so. They were not relevant to the mission and thus were merely background noise, easy to ignore until they became a target. He held no personal loyalty to HYDRA. The soldier obeyed because that was what he did. They were his masters, nothing more. Loyalty, faith, none of that mattered to a weapon who was not allowed to feel anything. What good would they do on a mission? His humanity was gone, and with it the concept of lofty ideals had been stolen as well.

He sat down in the passenger’s seat as instructed, staring straight ahead with both hands on his legs. Through the initial drive, he said nothing. He had not been ordered to speak. Tilting his head at the order, he blinked slowly. A machine could not ‘like’ anything. However, he also needed to obey his commander. Slowly, he reached his left hand toward the screen and began to flick through the music. The sound of a large band playing what the DJ moments later identified as ‘swing’ caused him to stop. That one was… familiar? How could it be? The asset was sure he had never heard music like that before. As the next song began, he set his hand back in his lap, staring at his handler in search of approval.

It would be a constant drive to Washington. A few motel stops were planned along the way, but either way it would still be a long ride. Lise hoped the soldier would pick something nice. So when the saxophones and drum kits started, his grey eyes widened a little before returning back to normal. Well, considering the soldier’s history, it wasn’t unexpected. Ignoring that it was something that could trigger the soldier’s memories, he glanced back with a slight smile and nod. As long as the soldier didn’t bring up anything too obvious, the handler was willing to let it slide and hopefully be retained from being wiped. After all, if he had a chance to go against HYDRA, he would.

“There’s a phone in the glove compartment. Looks like this.” Lise continued, briefly flashing his own mobile. “The last mobiles you were taught to use were shell phones. These are smart phones, same like the dashboard screen. Take it out. There’s a single button on the right side, press and hold it to turn it on. It’s yours for this mission.” Turning down a split road and onto the highway with a few other delivery trucks, he shifted to the most idle lane. “It’s a miniature computer and you can access the internet with it. My contact and most of your details as Yasha is already loaded into the phone. The password is h-a-i-l-5-d-r-a. It also recognises your eyes and mine. See if you can find GPS and maps on it.”

Again, the equipment was special. The mobile had access to HYDRA’s intraweb and had apps with their resources. It was also programmed against external intrusion and had its own running system. Of course, the level of access it had was limited compared to his own. “This phone’s location can only be tracked by HYDRA. However, any incoming calls can still be traced, even though we have defences in place. It takes a minimum of around two and a half minutes for anyone with the best technology to trace through, as far as we have tested.” Naturally, there were also downsides to everything.

“There are burner phones in the luggage too. But hopefully we won’t have to use them.”

For the rest of the road, Lise spent the time encouraging Yasha to ask questions and answering them, teaching him to use the phone and social media. The focus was mainly on how to track targets through them, though in the past, the soldier could return a call to HYDRA to ask for further instructions and coordinates otherwise. Still, upper management thought what little bit counts and if the soldier could figure out target details from previous media like newspapers and letters, he could do the same with easily accessible social media. Things like tracing calls and hacking were still left to the technicians back in HYDRA.

Lunch was still protein bars, though he pulled by a burger’s drive-thru to get two sets of takeaways for dinner when they check in their first motel by nightfall.

winter-soldier-asset-bucky‌:

When there was no immediate reprimand for his selection of music, the soldier felt himself relax slightly. Never was the weapon fully relaxed. Even on bases where he was theoretically safe, he was on alert. HYDRA needed him to be. At any point, he needed to be ready to snap to attention and obey. His gaze lingered on his commander rather than the road ahead of them. Why would he look there? He was not driving and thus the miles between them and their target were irrelevant. His mind filled slowly with the sounds of saxophones and loud drums, slipping long into the tune that sounded almost familiar. Why? Had he ever heard it before? He debated asking his commander, but thought better of it. No, he would not ask something that was not relevant to the mission.

When his commander spoke again, he quickly retrieved the phone from the glove compartment, holding it in his flesh hand while he stared at the screen. This was new. Phones before had never been flat like this. What was it meant to do? Following his handler’s instructions, he turned on the device and waited while it glowed for a few moments. Quickly, he typed in the password when prompted and stared at the buttons on the screen. His mind worked quickly, drinking in the information. HYDRA had taught their soldier to be a fast learner and he would be good for his commander. Phone, access to the internet, details regarding his undercover operation present on the phone. He quickly found a button that looked like a map and tapped on it, bringing up an image of their current position.

“Two and a half minutes to trace a call,” the soldier repeated. He could remember that, he was certain. It was mission critical information and thus more important than anything else. Tilting the phone toward his handler, he presented the GPS on the screen. Was that correct? Bringing the phone back to himself, he listened in silence while his commander explained more about how he was meant to track this target. Following along with the device, he searched through the various apps and news outlets for information on their target. Public perception was generally favorable. The target was easy to track via Twitter and Facebook. These things were not good for keeping out of sight. The soldier decided they were unnecessary.

However, ‘Yasha’ used some of them. There were extensive posts dating back for some time about events he did not remember and people he did not know. Only his handler was familiar to him. What was the point of having such false information available to the public? There were no photographs of himself, rather food and places and objects. Still, he found the false details odd and silently went back to researching the target rather than his fake life. His eyes flicked to his commander every so often while he silently asked about the purpose of ‘social media’. Tracking became much easier when the target posted their whereabouts and those of their family.

When they pulled into the motel, the soldier retrieved their dinner along with the luggage, carrying everything into their room like a well trained bellboy. Setting the luggage on the couch, he turned around and waited for more orders.

“Consider it a public diary, as well as a method of sharing and flaunting personal opinions and gains.” Lise explained, adding on that not many believed themselves worthy of being tracked for whatever purpose. Then he continued to show the soldier how it could be used to propagate misinformation and leave false alibi, like Yasha’s own accounts and their current travel, becoming ‘passports’ - evidence against background checks. Like how the last posts were where ‘Yasha’ just bought a machine for his mechanic shop and Lise picked him up, a place just further up the highway before HYDRA’s exit.

Another highlight was when their target would actually arrive in Washington, but posted another air ticket that listed a later flight. But it was still usable, especially when photos betrayed locations and posts about people involved with a target.

When they finally got to the motel though, Lise had wanted to get his own luggage but the soldier was much faster. In the end, he let it be since he had to settle their payments with the counter anyway. Seeing the soldier waiting on him, he gestured to the paper bag meals. “Pick one of the sets and eat dinner. I’m showering first. We should be quite safe so just keep a light watch and relax till I’m out. Play with your phone if you’d like. Then you can have a shower if you feel grimy, or you can sleep. I’m taking first watch for the night and you take the second half.”

Regardless of their current safety, they still had to keep watch. It was easier for Lise to do work while keeping watch early and have a good sleep for driving on the next day. He fully intended on letting the soldier catch up on sleep in the car instead.

Picking a t-shirt and boxers from the luggage, he went into the shower. Minutes later, he came back out in them to hang and air the clothes he had been wearing. “How was the burger set?” He asked, feeling hungry. “Was it too greasy or dry?” Thus far, he was still getting used to working closely with the soldier. Their relationship was as rigid as before, with him maintaining much of his attitude as handler and giving the soldier instructions despite the status he set for them. The only difference was that the soldier actually spoke a few times requesting information without his prompt. At any rate, if their interactions remained like so, it would eventually give them away as not who they said they were and Lise felt at fault and responsible for it.

So he tried prompting more replies. “Also which shop would you prefer to eat at tomorrow morning? The donut place or the waffle house?” There were restaurants within the vicinity of the motel, precisely for the latter’s customers. There was also a gas station nearby, perfect for refueling before they continued on the road.

winter-soldier-asset-bucky‌:

The soldier was still lost as to why a human would want something like that. Such a thing would make them easy to track and would reveal details about their personal lives that were best kept hidden if they did not want to be found. Then again, the soldier also knew he was not human. How could he understand what people felt if he was not one of them? Nodding to his commander, he settled into once more looking through the phone. It showed a life he was sure he had not lived and yet there it was. There were posts detailing a shop he had never seen and people he had never met. Or perhaps HYDRA had taken those memories from him. The soldier was unsure. All he knew was that the phone was necessary for the mission and he began memorizing the information within.

Once he was finished with his own false history, he moved to the target. This one appeared real, although he was only experienced with one, his own. His handler said this one was true in the sense that it did belong to their target. He began doing as his commander instructed, cross checking the posts of his target with those close to him and weeding out what was false. Surprisingly, their target posted a good deal of reliable information. That was not wise. He needed more information on their location before he would be able to form any sort of plan regarding how to eliminate him. That could be done once they arrived at their final destination.

When the car pulled into the motel parking lot, the soldier stepped out and grabbed the luggage, his own and his commander’s. His handler was a busy person and should not be made to do unnecessary work. At least, that was what other handlers had told him. Standing and waiting for his handler to finish, the asset followed him to their room and set the luggage down on the farthest wall. If an intruder arrived, they would have to cross the whole room in order to steal anything. “Yes, sir,” he answered, turning his attention to the bags. Looking into each one, he found the one that seemed to have slightly less food and took it. A human was more important than a weapon and thus needed more food.

‘Playing’ with anything was a foreign concept to the soldier, but he took the words to mean he should continue to familiarize himself with social media and the device in general. Seating himself on the couch, he alternated between eating and scrolling through the information he could find on the target. When his handler finished, he turned to stare at him. If he was behaving improperly, he needed to know. His next orders were to shower or sleep. The soldier had been cleaned before being sent out so he did not think he needed to bathe again. There was no point in wasting water.

“It was adequate,” he replied, unable to remember if he had ever eaten a burger before. Without a point of reference, he had no idea what ‘too greasy’ or ‘too dry’ were. His handler was giving him more options and the asset could feel the familiar fear rising in him. He was not used to being asked for his opinion. Handler decided everything. When the mission began properly, sometimes he was allowed to dictate his own moves, HYDRA knowing they had trained him to be perfect. He knew how to take down a target efficiently. Waffles or donuts… Did it matter which? Was there a wrong answer? Yes, there was always a wrong one and the soldier was terrified he would upset his handler by choosing incorrectly. Looking away, he knew he had to obey and pick one.

Donuts could be taken in the car and easily eaten while driving. “The donut shop.” he answered, waiting to be reprimanded. In the end, they would go wherever his handler wanted. The soldier had no authority to pick anything; he knew that very well.

It wasn’t like Lise didn’t know his questions made the asset uncomfortable. Aside from his personal motivation trying to help the soldier regain himself a little and maybe enjoy what little pleasures he can extend during this short period which would likely not be wiped, the soldier needed to work on being able to respond more smoothly in conversation should they come up close with the target or someone related. While handlers took care of everything social before, social divide in hierarchy were less than ever. In many present situations, the soldier can no longer hide behind the excuse of being a bodyguard or just being taciturn anymore. Not if he wanted to give away his actual purpose.

“Well you can compare it with other burgers along the way.” Watching the rising fear in the soldier’s eyes even as he kept to protocol and maintained his gaze on him, Lise sighed gently while nodding. “Donuts it is. Friends are allowed to have their own preferences. And as long as I do not address you as Wolf, out here we are friends.” Reminding the soldier, he carried on with his own dinner, grabbing the bag to start eating. Mentioning nothing about his behaviour while he was showering nor giving any more further instructions, Lise waited to see if the soldier would proceed with what he told him earlier. The young handler also settled on figuring out what additional clauses to add to the soldier’s ‘friend protocols’ along the way, seeing as the weapon was still struggling between the different statuses.

If it wasn’t for his predecessors being so through on training the soldier into being inhuman… Lise signed once more in his mind. There was another option of bringing the soldier to the Dollhouse instead, using the new technology to ‘grant’ the soldier with new skills and experience just like a snap of a finger. But not only would it affect the previous training on becoming a weapon, it could also trigger the soldier into regaining independent thought, since the memories of those skills and experience belonged to someone else. Someone with individuality. Those assets were treated carefully and specially, controlled via hypnosis and triggers.

However, while those assets were in high demand by wealthy clients, the upper management much preferred the prototype instead. A thing they can treat carelessly, without fear of disobedience and unable to question or argue against their will. Hence the wiping equipment was never upgraded in function, only in user access and electrical consumption. Lise stared at the dipping sauce as he ate the fries. thinking about the soldier’s pitiable fate and his own.

#wintersoldierassetbucky‌#t.wintersoldierassetbucky‌#t.bucky.mission on a date #t

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