#the falcon and the winter soldier oneshot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kaynothanks · 3 months

Text

On His Collar | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Wilson!Reader

Warnings: bucky’s one jealous boi, lil bit of violence, no smut which (for me) really is surprising, smooching, being caught

Summary: Bucky can't keep his hands off you and your brother notices

Word-Count: 12.3K

With a nervous gnawing at the inside of your cheek, you were only half-aware of your leg's relentless fidgeting. Your eyes remained affixed to the world beyond the car window, the landscape blurring as the vehicle, courtesy of Zemo's orchestration, sped on. Vague details of the city drawing closer had filtered through to you via documents and whispers; the scant knowledge of its shadowy dealings enough to stir an unsettling churn within your chest. From a distance, Madripoor was breathtaking, its myriad lights flickering through the rain's swift descent, captured momentarily on the glass before you.

This fleeting illumination conjured memories of a night several months prior, when a call in the deep, silent hours had pierced your tranquility. Urged by his voice, laced with an unspoken desperation, you hadn't hesitated. Your car had cut through the sleeping city of New York, a beacon in the dark, drawn to alleviate his turmoil. The lights of that night, though bearing a resemblance to the ones now stretched before you, held a beauty tinged with a personal touch, perhaps making them appear even more enchanting.

You released a breath tinged with anxiety, your fingers idly tracing the edge of the scant dress that, for reasons unknown, Zemo had at his disposal. The material, with its thinness and the overlay of silver glitter, chafed against your skin, a constant reminder of its presence. However, the knowledge of Zemo's opulent wealth lent you the perspective that this barely-there garment might indeed possess a value surpassing the collective worth of your entire wardrobe.

"You good?" came your brother's voice, close enough to stir the air by your ear, pulling your attention sharply towards him.

For a fleeting moment, you found yourself studying him, ensnared in your own whirlpool of anxiety. The furrow of worry etching deep between his brows sent a sharp pang through your heart. Witnessing this, a desperate plea bubbled within you, a silent yearning for him to cease his endless vigil over you—to halt his attempts at shielding you from every conceivable harm, to stop viewing you through the lens of perpetual childhood, to simply cease the worry that seemed to etch itself into his very being. The thought of being the source of such profound distress, such tangible sorrow for him, was more than you could bear. Heaven knows, the troubles you'd landed yourself in, the predicaments from which he'd extricated you time and again, were countless, far beyond what your fingers could tally.

Sam was the epitome of the brother everyone should be blessed with. From the tender years of your childhood, he had been the figure you looked up to, the beacon that guided many of the choices that had shaped your life. And in the wake of your father's passing, his protective instincts didn't just increase; they surged, enveloping you in a steadfast, unwavering care. He was your rock, your constant, in a world that seemed all too ready to shift beneath your feet. Always there, without fail.

Your decisions often found themselves at odds with his views, sparking debates that seemed as endless as they were passionate. A vivid memory that stood out was when you announced your intention to follow in his footsteps and join the Marines. What ensued was a marathon two-hour discourse, laden with reasons he believed painted a vivid picture of why the military was a mismatch for someone like you. You had absorbed every word, every concern, yet your resolve had remained unshaken. In hindsight, the wisdom woven into his admonitions might have merited deeper consideration, a realization that dawned on you with greater clarity once you found yourself deployed to the turbulent south.

It was there, amidst the chaos and the distance from home, that you began to truly comprehend the depth of Sam's anxiety for your well-being—a sentiment that became reciprocal as concern for your family gnawed at you. Sarah, battling to keep the family business afloat while nurturing two young boys in Sam's absence, became a focal point of your worries. Meanwhile, Sam's life, veiled in the secrecy of countless missions, left a chasm between your shared experiences. Often, he returned with stories he couldn't share, silences that spoke louder than words, deepening your understanding of the burdens he carried and the protective shield he tried to extend over you from miles away.

Had you heeded his words, the tapestry of your life might have been woven with different threads, perhaps even brighter hues. Imagine a reality where you had chosen to stand by Sarah's side, absorbing the tranquility of domestic life rather than the chaos of battle. In that alternate existence, your path would never have intersected with the harrowing battlefield against Thanos. Your presence in the thick of that fight was nothing short of serendipitous, a stark coincidence born from a casual visit to him just as the alarm bells of invasion clanged their ominous toll.

The details of your unexpected journey to Wakanda are shrouded in the mists of adrenaline-fueled urgency, a memory blurred at the edges by the sheer intensity of facing an extraterrestrial threat for the first time. It was an initiation by fire into a reality far removed from anything you had ever known or imagined.

Yet, amidst the whirlwind of chaos and the blur of combat, one memory stands etched with crystal clarity—the visceral sensation of teetering on the brink of oblivion. The cold brush with death is an experience that lingers, a stark reminder of mortality that paints every moment with a sharper contrast, a memory that forever shapes your understanding of life, resilience, and the fragility of existence.

You had weathered the storms of human conflict, battles steeped in the folly and hubris of mankind, but never before had you faced a legion from beyond the stars, intent on culling half of all life in the universe. In the shadow of such an unfathomable threat, your own mortality had seemed inconsequential, dwarfed by the incalculable lives teetering on the edge of annihilation. Driven by a newfound recklessness, a fiery resolve to make a difference, you had abandoned the post Sam had painstakingly chosen for you. You had forsaken safety, charging headlong towards Thanos, the architect of doom.

To him, you were but a speck, a mere human too insignificant to warrant attention, and he had dismissed you with the ease of one swatting away an irritating fly. Yet, with your firearm spent, desperation had lent you audacity. You had launched yourself onto his colossal frame, a knife clutched in your fist, the last vestige of your defiance. You were acutely aware of the invincibility that his skin professed, an armor no earthly might had pierced with lasting effect. But ambition—or perhaps the raw edge of survival—drove you to attempt the impossible: to excise one of the gleaming Infinity Stones from its gauntlet perch.

And in that breathless moment, as your blade kissed the surface of the gauntlet, Thanos's fingers curled into a fateful snap.

The universe hung in the balance, suspended on the cusp of his action and your audacious defiance. Time itself seemed to stand still, awaiting the outcome of a confrontation that had spiraled far beyond the realms of imagination.

When consciousness reclaimed you, five years had vanished into the ether, and you awoke to a world that had moved on without you. The sight that greeted you was your own veins, pulsating with an uncanny luminescence, casting a ghostly glow over the skin they webbed. Your body, once a familiar vessel, now refused the basic command to rise, leaving you sprawled and powerless on the ground. If only you had heeded Sam's directive, you mused bitterly, you might have remained untouched by this curse, spared the constant, gnawing anxiety that now made a den in your heart. Fear had become your unwelcome shadow, looming over you with endless "what ifs." The thought of unintentionally unleashing harm, of your very essence becoming a cataclysmic force capable of leveling cities, was a nightmare that played on an endless loop in your mind.

Through it all, Sam had been your anchor in the tempest, steadfast even as you spiraled into a mire of self-distrust. For three agonizing months, he had nursed you through the turmoil of accepting this altered existence, an existence marked by an estrangement from your own being. Comfort in your own skin had become a foreign concept, an elusive state that you feared might elude you indefinitely. Nowadays, every flicker of your fingers was accompanied by a torrent of anxiety, a silent battle waged between mind and heart. With each throb of your pulse, a cacophony of fears whispered the possibility of harming the one constant in your life—your brother. This new reality was a labyrinth with no visible exit, a path you tread with trepidation, haunted by the potential havoc you could wreak with a mere gesture, a thought, a slip of control.

You took a deep breath, your fingers nervously adjusting the sleek black leather gloves that now served as a barrier between your touch and the world, a precaution against the inadvertent destruction your mere contact could cause. For a fleeting moment, your gaze drifted to him, taking in the precise way his ebony locks were coifed, a style so meticulously arranged atop his head. The shortness of his hair, a detail so starkly different from before, still felt alien to your eyes. Catching his gaze already fixed on you, a silent exchange that spoke volumes, you redirected your attention back to your brother, mustering a smile tinged with awkwardness. "Of course. Stop worrying," you whispered, attempting to lace your voice with reassurance, even as your heart wrestled with its own tempest of concerns.

"I'm your big brother," he reminded you, his tone carrying a hint of playfulness as if introducing a fact that might have somehow slipped your mind. "That's my job," he added, a declaration of his unwavering role in your life.

Gotta be a real thankless job, you mused silently, the thought echoing wryly within the confines of your mind. "How haven't I fired you yet?" you quipped back, a teasing lilt in your voice as you nudged him gently with your elbow, inviting a moment of light-hearted banter between the gravity of your shared experiences.

His response was an exaggerated gasp, a playful act that drew a slight, amused smile across your face. Without missing a beat, he turned to the conspicuously silent super-soldier beside him. "Ey, Bucky," he called out, seemingly plucking his next words from thin air with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Did I tell you about that one time, when Y/n was seven and she peed—"

"Oh my god, Sam, stop!" The words flew from your lips as you reached out to silence him, your hand slapping his shoulder before trying to cover his mouth, a futile attempt to stem the flow of embarrassing tales. Your cheeks flushed with a warmth that radiated from the deep-seated embarrassment of the memory, vivid as if it had happened just yesterday, rather than years ago.

"I apologize for interrupting your camaraderie," Zemo's voice, laced with a hint of formality, cut through the air from the front seat. His eyes found yours in the rearview mirror, carrying a mix of apology and inevitability. "Unfortunately, my driver can proceed no further."

Zemo was the first to emerge from the vehicle, setting the tone for a swift exit. Sam was quick on his heels, nearly leaping from the car at the sight of Bucky preparing to disembark. The super-soldier merely rolled his eyes at the urgency, a silent testament to his annoyance, before he too followed suit, stepping into the open air.

Left alone for a brief moment, you lingered in the cocoon of the car's interior, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. The unease knotted in your stomach, a familiar harbinger of doom, seemed to grip tighter with each passing second. Yet, as you prepared to step out into the uncertain world beyond the car's confines, a flicker of hope dared to whisper through your thoughts. Perhaps, just this once, the ominous premonition that twisted your insides would prove false. Maybe, after a stretch of relentless storms, a moment of calm awaited you. With that fragile hope cradled in your chest, you ventured forth, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Navigating the bustling streets of the city, your senses were on high alert, eyes darting left and right in a mix of wariness and awe. Every sound, every blur of movement was cataloged, an overwhelming flood of stimuli as you endeavored to absorb the essence of the place. Ahead of you, the three men moved with a purposeful stride, seemingly indifferent to the sensory overload that ensnared you. Or so it appeared, until a momentary glance to the side caught Bucky mid-observation, his head subtly angled in your direction. The instant he realized he'd been noticed, his gaze snapped forward, a silent admission of his watchfulness.

A small, knowing smile played on your lips as you continued your exploration, your attention now on the eclectic mix of individuals that populated the streets. Their attire was a vivid tapestry of the city's culture and complexity, each person a unique thread woven into the larger fabric. In this context, Zemo's insistence on changing your clothing became crystal clear. Clad in your usual cargo pants and top, you would have stood out starkly, a beacon of foreignness in this richly diverse crowd. It would have been akin to parading around with a neon sign branded "idiot," announcing your outsider status to every discerning eye. His foresight, though begrudgingly acknowledged, spared you that unwitting declaration of naivety.

In the mosaic of your life, Bucky Barnes occupied a space that was both vivid and complex, interwoven with threads of intimacy and shared secrets, away from the prying eyes of your overprotective brother, Sam. Your connection with Bucky had evolved, nurtured by the clandestine moments and deep conversations that unfolded in the quiet corners of New York's bustling cityscape.

It began with chance encounters, two souls adrift in the vastness of the city, finding solace in the understanding gaze of the other. These meetings grew in frequency and depth, transitioning from fleeting to intentional, as you both sought the comfort and understanding that seemed to elude you elsewhere. The shared experience of navigating a world that often felt too constricting, too demanding, became the foundation of your bond.

Your relationship with Bucky was a tapestry of silent understandings and whispered confidences. There were evenings spent in his modest apartment, where the glow of the city lights barely filtered through the curtains, casting the room in a soft luminescence. Here, amidst the shadows, you shared parts of yourselves that had been carefully guarded from the rest of the world. Bucky, with his guarded heart and weary eyes, found in you a kindred spirit, someone who could see beyond the Winter Soldier to the man who was still standing beneath.

These moments of vulnerability were your secret, a world built for two, where words were often unnecessary. You had memorized the layout of his apartment, the contents of each cupboard and drawer, not through any explicit intention but through the natural intimacy that comes from shared spaces and shared silences. It was in the way you could wordlessly hand him a glass of water from his kitchen without having to ask where he kept his glasses, or how the two of you could sit in comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts yet together.

Yet, this closeness was kept hidden, a chapter of your life unread by Sam. Not out of deceit but from a desire to protect this fragile connection from external judgments or expectations. With Sam's protective instincts, your relationship with Bucky was a delicate balance, a treasure trove of moments and memories that you both guarded fiercely.

The complexity of your relationship with Bucky was not defined by labels or expectations but by the depth of connection and mutual understanding. It was a testament to the fact that sometimes, the most profound relationships are those that exist in the spaces between words, in the comfort of silence, and in the shared experiences of two souls navigating the world side by side.

The inexplicable flutter in your heart whenever Bucky was near often left you questioning your own sanity, yet there was something undeniably captivating about the way he made you feel. The warmth that crept into your cheeks as you reminisced about a lazy afternoon spent in the park was a testament to this. It was a simple moment, really—Bucky's admission of his aversion to text messaging because he preferred the sound of your voice had somehow managed to send your heart into a delightful somersault. In that instant, you understood the unspoken pact between you two: to keep the depth of your connection hidden from your brother.

This secret camaraderie you shared with Bucky was treasured quietly, a series of moments and feelings kept just between the two of you. Bucky, too, found solace in your presence. The way you looked at him, with eyes filled with genuine affection and understanding, offered him a tranquility he had long thought was beyond his grasp. Your smile was like a beacon to him, urging him to open up about his past, his fears, and his dreams, despite the darkness that shadowed much of his history. Yet, of all the things that drew him closer, it was your laughter that he cherished most.

Your laughter wasn't restrained or demure; it was the kind that bubbled up from deep within, unfiltered and infectious. Those moments when you would laugh so heartily, throwing your head back without a care in the world, were the ones that Bucky held dear. It was in these bursts of genuine joy that he saw the lightness of being, a stark contrast to the battles and burdens he carried. Your laughter, free and unabashed, symbolized a purity of happiness that Bucky admired. It reminded him that amidst the complexities of life, there existed simple, unguarded moments of joy worth cherishing.

In the twilight of Bucky's life, where happiness seemed more a memory than a possibility, the moments he shared with you illuminated his world with an unexpected joy. Time and again, he teetered on the brink of asking you to intertwine your lives officially, to step beyond the unspoken boundaries of your secret affinity and declare it openly. Yet, each time the words perched on the edge of his tongue, ready to leap into the abyss of possibilities, the thought of Sam cast a long shadow over his resolve.

Sam, the steadfast pillar of your family, was a friend to Bucky in every sense except in name, for their camaraderie was too complex and layered for simple labels. Bucky was acutely aware of the fierce love Sam harbored for you, a protective and encompassing love that was both admirable and intimidating. He knew of the cherished photograph Sam carried in his wallet—a tangible reminder of the bond shared between you, your sister, and his beloved nephews, a snapshot of the life Sam fought so valiantly to protect.

And it was the thought of Sam, with his unwavering loyalty and brotherly love, that stayed Bucky's confession. He was painfully aware of the turmoil that would ensue should Sam discover the depth of his feelings for you. Bucky could almost feel the weight of Sam's betrayal and anger, for in his heart, he knew that his affection for you crossed lines that Sam might never forgive. This tension, this fear of fracturing the fragile truce they had built, kept Bucky silent, trapped in a limbo of longing and loyalty, where his desire to claim your heart battled with his respect for the brother who would view such a confession as the ultimate treachery.

As Zemo led the way, weaving through a throng of onlookers whose eyes darted with a mix of curiosity and caution, the air buzzed with hushed whispers that all seemed to echo the same question: "Is that the Winter Soldier?" Yet, if only they could see beyond the infamy and the scars of war, they'd find Bucky. This was the same Bucky who had once called you in a panic, deep into the night, baffled by the modern conundrum of ordering a television online. The same Bucky who shared with you his playlist of favorite songs, tunes you never expected to enjoy, yet found yourself playing on repeat. And this was the Bucky who, in an earnest attempt to teach you to dance, ended up with you standing on his feet, both of you moving in a clumsy but heartwarming harmony across the floor.

Arriving at the bar, you edged closer to Zemo and Bucky, the latter noticing your approach and subtly shifting to grant you more space. "Good evening," greeted the bartender with a nod towards Sam, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger."

The effort to suppress a grin was Herculean as the nickname filled the air. Your brother, Sam, for all his bravery and skill, was many things, but a master thespian he was not. Tonight, he was to embody Conrad Mack, or "Smiling Tiger," a persona draped in notoriety and whispered about in the darkest corners of the criminal underworld. Knowing Sam's theatrical limits, the anticipation of watching him navigate the guise of an African gangster tinged your apprehension with a thread of amusement, painting the night ahead with the promise of unforgettable moments.

"Plans have shifted," Zemo interjected smoothly, answering on behalf of Sam, who tightened his lips in an attempt at solemnity. The sight was almost comical; Sam's expression ventured into the realms of absurdity. "We have business with Selby tonight."

A cloak of skepticism draped over the bartender's demeanor, his eyes—a mix of inquiry and caution—peered from behind the substantial frames of his glasses. His visage, half-obscured by a beard, seemed out of place in this den of shadows and whispered secrets. One could easily mistake him for a tech wizard from the polished corridors of Stark Industries rather than a keeper of this clandestine establishment.

"The usual, then?" the bartender queried. Sam, lips still tightly sealed, offered a single, determined nod, his posture shifting slightly with unease. With practiced ease, the bartender turned to retrieve a jar housing a deceased equatorial spitting cobra, laying it out with a certain reverence on the cutting board before you. He wielded a knife, expertly slicing the serpent open to extract its heart. This he placed in a shot glass, to which he added a dash of Triple sec, a measure of gin, and a squeeze of finger lime, concocting a drink that teetered on the edge of the exotic and the macabre. Sliding the glass towards Sam, the air was momentarily thick with anticipation.

"Ahh," Zemo exhaled, a chuckle threatening to breach his composure. "The Smiling Tiger, your favorite." The room hung in a momentary suspense, the bizarre ritual highlighting the lengths to which one might go to blend into the shadows of this underworld.

As you reluctantly redirected your attention away from the unsavory scene, your eyes found solace in Bucky's gaze. The moment of eye contact with the super-soldier was like a silent pact, conveying volumes in the briefest exchange. “I think the next part’s worth watching.” His suggestion was delivered in a hush, his voice a soft, enticing caress against the delicate skin of your neck, sparking a cascade of warmth that pooled in the pit of your stomach. You darted a quick look around, half-expecting the assembled throng to notice this intimate exchange. Yet, their attention remained steadfastly on the notorious figure of the Winter Soldier, allowing you a sliver of privacy in the crowded space.

Turning back towards your brother, you endeavored to steady your racing heart, to cloak the fluttering butterflies that Bucky's nearness had unfurled within you. But it was akin to trying to calm a storm with whispered words; Bucky's heat enveloped you, a comforting yet unnerving presence. Then, almost imperceptibly, he edged closer, a mere shift that breached the scant distance between you. His chest hovered just shy of touching your back, a whisper of contact that electrified your senses.

Your body responded before your mind could catch up, muscles tensing, heart thundering against your ribcage as if seeking escape. The air seemed to thicken, each breath a labor through the heightened tension that his proximity wrought. The warmth from his body seeped through the fabric of your clothes, branding your skin with a heat that was both foreign and intoxicating. A shiver coursed through you, unbidden, as you fought the urge to lean back into him, to seek solace in the strength of his embrace. His presence, so close and yet so restrained, left you teetering on the edge of something profound, a precipice overlooking a maelstrom of uncharted emotions and desires.

The atmosphere in the dimly lit, cramped space was charged with an uneasy anticipation as Sam steeled himself to down the concoction before him – the alcohol mingling with the snake's heart in a display of grit and resolve. Standing beside him, you could almost taste the bile rising in your own throat at the thought, empathy for Sam's predicament tangling with your own visceral reaction. It was in this moment of vicarious revulsion that you felt it—a touch so light, so fleeting on your arm that it could have been mistaken for a trick of the air, save for the deep, intrinsic knowledge that it was Bucky. His touch, though minimal, carried with it a warmth and a reassurance that seemed to cut through the tension of the moment, grounding you.

This gentle caress, lost to anyone else's perception, was like a beacon to your heightened senses, which seemed to come alive with a fervor that only Bucky's presence could ignite. It was a silent communication, a shared moment amidst the chaos, confirming that his attention was riveted not on the grotesque spectacle unfolding with your brother but on you. And then, without need for visual confirmation, you sensed the subtle shift in his posture, the lean of his body just close enough for you to catch the light inhale as he discreetly breathed in the scent of your hair. The intimacy of the action, hidden in plain sight, had your eyelids fluttering close, teetering on the edge of surrender to the sensation.

But the moment was shattered by the intrusion of a new, deep voice, unfamiliar and brusque, pulling Bucky's gaze away from you for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The voice belonged to a tattooed biker who had sidled up beside Zemo, breaking the spell that had cocooned you and Bucky in your private world. Yet, even as Bucky's eyes momentarily flicked to the newcomer, assessing and then dismissing him as a threat, his hand lingered on your arm, a silent vow of protection and an unwillingness to completely sever the thread of connection between you.

When the biker had disappeared back into the throng of the bar's patrons, Bucky's voice, low and resonant, brushed your cheek, "A Power Broker, really?" His breath was a warm caress, a contrast to the cool air of the bar and the cold reality of their mission.

Zemo's response was a shrug, nonchalant yet laden with the weight of their precarious position within this den of intrigue and danger. "Every kingdom needs its king. Let's just pray we stay under his radar." The words were a stark reminder of the peril that shadowed their every step, yet, for a fleeting moment, the only truth that seemed to matter was the connection between you and Bucky, a silent acknowledgment of a bond that thrived even in the heart of danger.

As your brother subtly leaned in, distancing himself from the ears of the surrounding strangers, his voice carried a note of quiet inquiry, "Do you know him?" His gaze was sharp, the weight of leadership and concern pressing upon his features, a look you knew all too well.

Zemo, ever the enigmatic figure, glanced briefly over his shoulder, his gaze sweeping across the teeming masses of Madripoor's underworld. "Only by reputation," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of wariness. He continued, his tone lowering to match the gravity of his words, "He is judge, jury, and executioner in Madripoor." The way Zemo articulated the roles imbued them with a sense of dread, painting a picture of a figure wielding absolute power over life and death in this lawless land.

As Sam prepared to step back, blending once more into the crowded backdrop of the bar, his gaze inadvertently fell upon Bucky's hand, a subtle yet intimate gesture resting gently on your arm. The silent question was evident in the arch of his brow, a wordless probe into the nature of the connection he had just witnessed. Despite the many shared battles and secrets between you, this particular nuance of your relationship with Bucky remained veiled from Sam's knowledge. He knew of the camaraderie, the shared jokes, and the mutual respect; what he had yet to grasp was the depth that lay beneath those surface interactions.

Caught under the weight of your brother's scrutiny, you felt a compelling urge to divert, to shield the budding complexity of your relationship with Bucky from any further inquiry. With a practiced nonchalance, you reached for the glass that had mysteriously found its way before you—its contents unknown but suddenly invaluable as a means of distraction. The glass felt cool against your fingertips, a stark contrast to the warmth spreading through your chest, fueled by Bucky's proximity and the intensity of your brother's gaze.

Without granting Sam the acknowledgment he sought, you lifted the glass, the liquid inside catching the dim light of the bar in a fleeting dance of shadows. With a resolve born of necessity, you downed the contents in one swift motion, the liquid tracing a burning path down your throat, a physical manifestation of the turmoil swirling within. In that moment, the intricacies of your heart's desires, the silent yearnings, and the whispered dreams shared in the quiet with Bucky were drowned in the sharp bite of the drink. There was no love life to dissect, you reasoned, at least not one that could be neatly explained or openly acknowledged under the watchful eyes of your brother. This was a complexity you were not yet ready to unravel, preferring instead the sanctity of ambiguity and the solace found in the unspoken.

From the periphery of your vision, the subtle yet unmistakable shift of the crowd's focus toward your group sent a ripple of tension through the air. Zemo, breaking the mounting silence, uttered something in Russian, his voice a sharp command that instantly put Bucky, who loomed protectively behind you, on high alert. Your grasp of Russian might have been rudimentary at best, but the gravity carried by the word "attack" pierced through any language barrier, sending a shiver down your spine. Your gaze darted anxiously between Bucky and Zemo, then to the increasingly hostile encirclement of men.

In a moment driven by instinct more than thought, your hand found Bucky's arm, a silent plea for restraint, an acknowledgment of the heavy burdens he bore and the battles you wished he wouldn't have to fight again. Yet, as the hand of an adversary reached for Zemo, intent on aggression, Bucky's protective instincts overrode any hesitations. The mission's success, the preservation of your collective guise, demanded action.

With a fluidity born of countless battles, Bucky intercepted the stranger's hand, wrenching it into a grim contortion of pain before hoisting him by the collar. The air was punctuated by the thud of the man's body crashing to the ground, a clear signal to the onlookers who, rather than stepping in, recoiled to the safety of the crowd's edges. Their initial shock quickly gave way to the modern reflex of capturing chaos on their smartphones, eager to document the return of the Winter Soldier.

Another assailant lunged forward, driven either by bravado or foolishness, only to meet Bucky's calculated fury. A swift strike to the chest paired with a debilitating kick to the shin sent the man staggering, a prelude to the crushing force of Bucky's elbow against his back. But Bucky was far from done; he delivered a final, forceful kick to the assailant's stomach with such power that the man was propelled backward, colliding with another would-be attacker and sending them both sprawling to the ground.

In those tense moments, Bucky transformed the immediate vicinity into a no-man's land, a clear warning to any who still harbored thoughts of joining the fray. The message was unambiguous: the Winter Soldier, though cloaked in the guise of Bucky Barnes, remained a formidable force, his actions a blend of precision and power that left no room for doubt or defiance.

The melee unfolded with relentless ferocity, each blow landing with a chilling finality. Amidst the chaos, Zemo's unexpected touch on your waist snapped your attention sharply to him, an unwelcome distraction amidst the turmoil. His fingers were cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the skirmish that raged a mere breath away. Holding a shot glass, with another stationed invitingly before him on the bar's counter, Zemo seemed almost nonchalant, as if the violent ballet unfolding around you two was mere background noise.

You could only hope that Sam's gaze was entirely consumed by the spectacle of the fight, lest Zemo's audacity earn him a swift and severe reprimand—the kind that involved a painful reconfiguration of his hand's anatomy. And, should Sam's protective instincts flare up, your carefully maintained cover would be shattered in an instant.

"So," Zemo initiated casually, offering you the glass while securing his own. His demeanor was eerily calm, a man unfazed by the chaos, his curiosity piqued by personal intrigues rather than the potential dangers that lurked in your immediate vicinity. "How long have you and James been seeing each other?"

His question caught you off guard, a blunt intrusion that left you momentarily flustered. "Excuse you?" you retorted, the sharpness in your voice mirroring your surprise.

He downed his shot in one fluid motion, a satisfied exhale following the liquid's descent. "Oh," he dismissed with a nonchalant wave of his hand, a gesture that belied the keen observation behind his words. "Your brother might be wearing blinders, but I certainly do not. It's been quite evident that Barnes has scarcely glanced away from you all evening."

You found yourself grappling for a response, the unexpected scrutiny leaving you unsettled. "Well, uh," you stumbled over your words, grappling for composure. "It's just what he does—staring." Your gaze dropped to the shot glass cradled in your palm, its contents suddenly more appealing than the conversation. With a swift tilt of your hand, you emptied the glass, the liquid courage coursing through you. Instinctively, you braced yourself for whatever probing questions Zemo might pose next, bolstered now by a fleeting rush of boldness from the alcohol.

Zemo's attention subtly shifted behind you, a prelude to his hand sneaking once more to your waist. A wry smirk played at the corner of his lips as he leaned closer, his breath brushing against your ear with a whispered directive, "Get ready." Immobilized by a sudden rush of surprise, you found yourself momentarily unable to react, your mind racing to process the unwelcome proximity.

As you regained your composure, indignation fueling your resolve, your hands began to rise, intent on removing his intrusion. Yet, before you could act, a familiar and comforting warmth enveloped your back. A sharp intake of breath caught in your throat as a low, protective growl resonated from behind you, a primal sound that spoke volumes of the tension filling the air.

In the blink of an eye, Zemo's hand was forcibly removed from you, Bucky's intervention swift and silent. The warning in Bucky's eyes was unmistakable, a clear message that brooked no argument. His grip on Zemo's hand tightened, a silent demonstration of his protective instincts. The strain was evident as Zemo's face flushed, a crimson wave ascending his neck in stark contrast to his paling face, a vivid testament to the discomfort and possibly fear induced by Bucky's ironclad hold.

Observing the intensity of the moment, you placed your hand gently atop Bucky's, seeking to diffuse the tension. "It's okay," you whispered soothingly, a plea for peace. "Let him go." Your voice, though soft, carried the weight of your concern, hoping to coax Bucky back from the brink of further conflict.

With a grudging release of pressure, Bucky acquiesced to your request, albeit with a distasteful grunt. He allowed Zemo the mercy of an unbroken hand, a testament to his respect for your wishes. The moment, charged with silent confrontations and unspoken bonds, highlighted the deep connection between you and Bucky, a bond that transcended mere words, resonating with loyalty, protection, and an unyielding sense of unity.

The tension in the air was palpable, a heavy cloud that seemed to weigh down every breath, until the bartender's voice sliced through the silence with the precision of a well-honed blade. "Selby will see you now," he announced, effectively diffusing the charged atmosphere. As you were ushered down the dimly lit corridor by a group of stern-faced men, the arrangement was strategic: Zemo leading, followed by Sam, with you nestled securely in the middle, and Bucky bringing up the rear, his vigilant gaze ensuring no threat would find its way to you unnoticed.

In a fluid motion born of protective instinct, Bucky's fingers found your wrist, gently but firmly pulling you aside into the seclusion of the shadowed alcove. The dim light played across his features, casting deep shadows that sculpted his face with an intensity that was almost breathtaking. His rugged attractiveness, framed in the half-light, struck you with a force that made your heart flutter. "Are you okay?" you found yourself asking, drawn into the complexity of emotions that danced within his eyes. It was clear he was wrestling with his own turmoil, yet his proximity to you, so near that the soft flutter of your eyelashes could have brushed against his cheek, seemed to both unsettle and anchor him.

“Next time he grabs you like that—” He cut himself of, jaw clenching.

As you laid your hand against the solid warmth of his chest in a comforting gesture, a ripple of tension eased from his frame. "It's okay," your whisper broke the intimate silence between you, your gaze lifting to meet his. "I'm okay, promise. He was just trying to get under your skin."

His eyes, a mirror to his soul, roamed over your features with an intensity that felt as though he was memorizing every detail, every curve, and contour, before finally settling back into your gaze. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?" His voice, soft yet filled with an emotion that resonated deep within your chest, enveloped you in a warmth that went beyond the physical closeness. In that moment, amidst the shadows and whispers of danger, a connection forged in the crucible of shared experiences and unspoken understanding deepened, transcending the chaos of the world outside.

Your smile, blossoming in response to Bucky's unexpected compliment, was abruptly cut short by Zemo's call for the Winter Soldier, reverberating ominously off the walls. A mutual sigh of resignation passed between you and Bucky. With a bite to your lip, signaling the gravity of the interruption, you took a hesitant step back, murmuring, "We should go."

Bucky's response was a tight nod, the muscles along his jawline tensing visibly as he too made the difficult choice to distance himself. The atmosphere shifted palpably as you entered Selby's domain. She was ensconced regally in an armchair, her fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm against its worn fabric, embodying the calm before the storm. "You should know, Baron," she began, her voice cool and measured, "people don’t just come into my bar and make demands."

Zemo, unfazed, countered with equal calmness, "Not a demand, an offer."

Selby's demeanor hinted at a mix of curiosity and caution as she observed the changes in her domain and the players within it. "A lot has changed since you were here last," she remarked, her gaze sliding over Bucky with undisguised interest. "By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?"

Zemo, settling himself before Selby with a nonchalance born of confidence, merely shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "People like us always find a way, don’t we? I'm sure you've already figured out what I am here for."

Selby, her attention never straying from Zemo, extended a languid finger toward your brother, her voice taking on a teasing, almost flirtatious tone. "You're taller than I'd heard, Smiling Tiger," she purred, her grin sharp as a knife's edge, before shifting her focus back to Zemo. "What's the offer?"

"Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum." Zemo's command hung in the air, heavy with implication. He rose, his movements deliberate, as he made his way to where Bucky and you stood in a silent vigil. The audacity of his next offer sliced through the tension like a cold blade. "And I give you him," Zemo gestured towards Bucky with a chilling casualness, "along with the code words that control him, of course." His fingers dared to trace a path along Bucky's jawline, a presumptuous gesture that hinted at possession. "He will do anything you want." You moved your hand to brush against his, blocking the view with your body, not wanting your cover to blow, also not wanting Bucky to blow up because of the over-the-top trade Zemo was talking about, which he hadn’t disclosed with you "Now, that’s the Zemo I remember," Selby's voice curled with a mix of admiration and threat, her lips twisting into a grin that was as dangerous as it was pleased. "I'm glad I decided not to kill you immediately." She mused aloud, nodding to herself as if affirming her own wisdom. "Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right." Zemo, with a nod acknowledging the compliment veiled as a critique, moved back to his chair, rejoining the precarious dance of conversation.

"The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor," Selby continued, her revelation hanging in the smoky air like a veiled threat. "Doctor Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank, or…" Her voice trailed off as she tilted her head, her gaze sharp, "Or condemn, depending on what side you're on."

"Is Nagel still in Madripoor?" Zemo's question cut through the tension, his inquiry pointed and loaded with unspoken implications.

Selby stood, her movement fluid as a shadow, drifting behind Zemo. She was about to divulge the answer, a secret that could tip the scales, when the moment was shattered by the unexpected vibration of a cell phone. Sam's cell phone, ingeniously hidden within the confines of your bra, the only place deemed secure given the impracticality of the suit's tiny pockets. The room froze, a tableau of anticipation and dread, as all eyes darted towards you. The vibration continued, a silent herald of impending chaos, until, with a steadiness you hardly felt, you retrieved the phone. The caller ID flashed "Mom jr." — a code name for your older sister, Sarah, that now felt like a harbinger of disaster.

"Go on," Selby's voice was a command laced with curiosity and a hint of menace, her henchman already looming ominously behind her. "Answer it. On speaker."

With a nod, terse and devoid of any option but compliance, you swiped the screen, the green circle heralding a connection fraught with risk. Clearing your throat, an attempt to mask the torrent of nerves, you answered with a voice feigning confidence, "Smiling Tiger."

"...Okay." The brief silence that followed was thick with confusion, Sarah's voice betraying her bewilderment. "Why do you have his phone? Is he there?"

"Uh, yeah, yes, he is."

"Could I speak to him? It's urgent."

"Sure." You navigated the tense atmosphere with caution, aware of the danger that lurked in every corner. Approaching Sam, you offered the phone with a discreet, "Sir."

Sam accepted the phone, his throat clearing a precursor to the conversation. "Hello?"

"Hey, uhm, we need to talk about this situation. It's been driving me nuts."

"What situation are you talking about exactly?"

"Are you high? You know the situation. It’s the only situation me and you have."

"What situation, Sarah? Say it."

"The damn boat. And watch your tone, okay? I let you slide at the bank."

Sam's scoff was almost audible, a mixture of disbelief and humor. "The bank, yeah. Laundered so much money," he chuckled. "Yeah, they'll come around."

"If that’s the case, then why'd they dog you out, Big Time?"

"Yeah, you damn right I'm Big Time. You'll see when I have that banker killed." Your gaze flickered to Bucky, dreading the potential fallout from this precarious bluff.

"Cass! What did I tell you about the Cheerios? I don’t have time for this!" Sarah's exasperated outburst was unexpected, yet somehow, it underscored the normalcy of life's chaos — even when worlds apart, Cheerios could cause turmoil. "Sam, I'm sorry, let me call you back."

"Sam?" Selby's voice, sharp with suspicion, cut through the room. "Who's Sam?" Her eyes scanned the room, landing on one of her men as she gave the lethal order, "Kill them!" No sooner had the command left her lips than a bullet from an unseen sniper found its mark, sailing through the window to claim Selby's life with unerring precision.

As Selby's men, jolted by the sudden turn of events, scrambled to retaliate, the trio leapt into action, their movements a blend of desperation and determination, ready to confront the chaos unleashed by a single, ill-timed phone call.

Sam's movements were swift and precise, his elbow connecting with the gut of the assailant beside him with a force that spoke of urgency and desperation. In a fluid motion, he seized the man's weapon, leveraging his strength to send his adversary crumbling to the floor. Nearby, Bucky confronted another threat, an opponent armed with an automatic firearm. The bullets, however, were no match for Bucky's metallic arm. With an almost serene calmness, he raised his arm, the bullets ricocheting off the vibranium and falling harmlessly to the ground, their lethal intent nullified. With a swift, decisive movement, Bucky disarmed the gunman, the heavy thud of the weapon striking the assailant's head a grim punctuation to the confrontation.

Zemo, meanwhile, exhibited a different kind of strategy. He glided to the side, a ballet of avoidance, demonstrating a preference to remain on the fringes of the physical altercation. His demeanor suggested disinterest, a calculated decision to avoid the fray, yet you knew the truth. Zemo possessed skills honed by experience, a dangerous combatant by any measure, choosing discretion over engagement.

As for yourself, standing on the precipice of engagement, you too could have dismantled any adversary with ease, mirroring Zemo's restraint. Yet, it wasn't the fear of the fight that stilled your hand, nor the dread of physical harm. It was a deeper, more insidious kind of fear that gnawed at your resolve — the fear of responsibility. Sam had seen the toll it took on you, the anxiety that came with wielding your powers. He reassured you, time and again, that it was okay to hold back, understanding the weight that came with such immense power.

You had mastered control over your abilities, a feat that was as much for those around you as it was for your peace of mind. But control was a fragile thing, a constant battle against the possibility of a catastrophic slip. The echoes of the past haunted you, a stark reminder of the chaos unleashed during the battle against Thanos. The risk you had posed to your brother's life was a memory etched in the recesses of your mind, a harrowing reminder of the potential consequences of your powers. The burden of that day weighed heavily on your shoulders, a silent vow to never relive that helplessness, that guilt, again. Control could temper the power, but it could never erase the memories, the fears, or the haunting possibility of what could happen should it ever falter.

The moment unfolded before you with a surreal clarity, as if time itself had bent to accommodate the gravity of what was about to transpire. There stood Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme, his figure exuding an aura of solemnity. With a hand stretched towards you, his voice cut through the chaos of your thoughts, delivering the harrowing message that Thanos was on the precipice of ushering in another war.

The ground beneath you felt unsteady, as if it too, shared in your tumult of emotions. Your body was a tempest of sensations, akin to being engulfed in invisible flames, an internal inferno that threatened to consume your very essence. Your hands, held out in front of you, became the focal point of your bewildered gaze. They glowed with an ethereal green luminescence, transforming your eyes into beacons of an otherworldly force. In that moment, you were a stranger even to yourself, your identity obscured by the overwhelming power that surged within you. You feared that even your brother, upon witnessing this transformation, would find himself staring at an unfamiliar figure, your familiar visage masked by an alien force.

It was during this maelstrom of confusion and fear that Stephen Strange recognized the tumultuous energy you were channeling. With a wisdom borne of his experiences with the mystic arts, he extended not just his hand but an offer of guidance and mastery over the forces that now threatened to unravel you.

Amidst this turmoil, a familiar voice pierced the veil of your disorientation. Bucky's voice, imbued with urgency and concern, reached out to you, grounding you back to reality. "We gotta go." His words, simple yet laden with an unspoken promise of safety, beckoned you. As your gaze snapped towards him, you were met with the sight of his outstretched hand, a lifeline in the chaos.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you placed your palm against his, the warmth of his grip a stark contrast to the cold uncertainty that had gripped your heart. Led by Bucky, you began to make your way out of the building, each step away from the epicenter of your crisis a step towards reclaiming the self that had been momentarily lost in the eye of the storm.

As Zemo's directive to abandon their firearms behind echoed in your mind, a profound vulnerability washed over you, intensifying the uncertainty that already clouded your heart. The decision to venture into the unknown without the familiar weight of a weapon at your side left you feeling starkly exposed, each step on the pavement echoing your apprehension.

Amidst the chaos, the glow of countless phone screens caught your attention, their omnipresence a stark reminder of the digital eyes that followed your every move. Your grip on Bucky's hand tightened, a help in centering you amidst the swirling uncertainty, your fingers intertwined with his in a silent plea for reassurance. Bucky, feeling the tremor of your grasp, was confronted with an overwhelming pressure in his chest—a sensation so intense, it seemed as though his heart might shatter through his ribcage. The logical part of his mind suggested that releasing your trembling hand might alleviate some of his distress, disconnecting him from the tangible evidence of your fear. Yet, the thought of pulling you even closer overpowered him, a testament to the protective instinct that surged within him, despite the presence of his partner in crime at his side, equally eager to escape the impending peril and shield you from harm.

Out of the corner of your eye, a figure detached from the crowd caught your attention—a woman, standing apart with her hands mimicking the shape of a gun, playfully ‘shooting’ at your group. This macabre pantomime, juxtaposed against the sea of illuminated screens, shed light on the grim realization that you and your companions had been reduced to mere targets in a deadly game, surrounded by a multitude of unseen adversaries, each one thirsting for blood and the lure of a reward.

In the fraction of a second before you could advance another step, the air was pierced by the unmistakable sound of gunfire. An instinctive fear gripped you, catalyzing a reaction that tore you away from Bucky's grasp. You spun around, just as a barrage of bullets threatened to engulf your group in a lethal storm. Driven by a deep-seated impulse to protect, you extended your hands, your eyes instinctively closing as you tapped into a wellspring of power that had lain dormant within you for far too long. The air around you charged with anticipation, as if the very essence of your being had awakened to confront the danger head-on.

Upon daring to open your eyes, fearing the aftermath of your instinctual reaction, you were confronted with a surreal tableau: bullets suspended mid-air, frozen in time and space, an arm's length away, creating an eerie stillness in the midst of chaos. The sheer number of projectiles, hovering ominously close, sent a shiver down your spine, yet it was the sight of your own fingers, aglow with a radiant green luminance, that truly captivated you. It was a strange juxtaposition—how could something so ethereally beautiful harbor the potential for immense destruction?

Your fascination gave way to action as you turned your palm, the bullets beginning to dissolve into nothingness, disintegrating into a fine mist just before reaching your skin. The urgency to locate your assailant led your eyes to a figure, scant meters away, wielding a machine gun braced against a makeshift stand in the bustling market. With a focused gesture, you manipulated the now-liquefied metal, directing it with lethal precision towards the gunman. He recoiled, anticipating pain or perhaps even death, but instead, you targeted his weapon. The metal swarm enveloped the gun, rendering it inoperable, parts of its mechanism dissolving into oblivion.

The surrounding crowd, momentarily taken aback by the display of power, quickly regrouped, their initial shock transforming into twisted smiles as they once again raised their weapons. It was then that your brother intervened, his hand clasping yours with determined strength, pulling you back into the frenetic escape. The concept of a leisurely retreat was a luxury far removed from reality as you both dashed through the dense throngs of Madripoor, a city now teeming with adversaries drawn by the allure of a bounty. The streets, alive with danger, became a labyrinth as you navigated through the relentless pursuit, the weight of potential violence pressing against you from all sides.

“I can’t run in these heels!” Sam's grumble about his unsuitable footwear for their frenzied escape almost halted you in your tracks, the urge to chastise him for his complaint bubbling up fiercely.

"I'm wearing six-inch heels, you idiot!" you retorted, your voice slicing through the tension as you were half-dragged, half-ran, your form almost seeming to bounce off the pavement with each step.

Just then, the distinct growl of motorbikes escalated behind you, a clear sign that your pursuers were closing in with alarming speed. Instinctively, you twisted around, freeing one arm from your brother's firm grasp. A brilliant emerald glow enveloped your hand as you unleashed a force resembling a sonic boom towards your chasers. Glancing back, you witnessed the bikers caught in a surreal slow-motion, ensnared within the temporal anomaly you'd unwittingly summoned.

The urgency of your flight tapered off as your brother gradually decelerated, releasing your hand to take in the quietude that had enveloped the scene. Zemo, ever the observer, couldn't hide his admiration, stepping closer with a sly grin. "Quite impressive, if I may say so myself."

“You may not.” His commendation was met with a mutter from Bucky, barely audible yet brimming with protectiveness. Bucky positioned himself squarely between you and Zemo, effectively shielding you from the latter's view. Sam, meanwhile, appeared utterly bemused, hands perched on his hips as he oscillated his gaze between you and Bucky, bewildered by the sudden shift in dynamics.

"Okay, what—?" Sam began, only to be cut off as the moment teetered on the brink of unraveling.

"Well, isn’t this just perfect," a voice chimed from the enveloping shadows, laced with a mix of amusement and disbelief. Emerging into the dim light, a blonde woman approached with her gun poised, her stance radiating confidence and danger. Recognition flickered through your mind, delayed by the surreal context. Sharon Carter, the name finally clicked, associated with tales of Steve Rogers and his erstwhile entanglements. Sam's anecdotes, usually shared with a mix of reverence and jest, painted her in the light of a past fraught with complex allegiances, especially during the so-called Civil War—a term you found overly dramatic for what essentially amounted to a highly publicized skirmish among comrades at an airport.

"Sharon?" Bucky's voice cut through your thoughts, tinged with a blend of surprise and uncertainty. The Sharon Carter you'd heard of through scattered stories seemed far removed from the woman who now stood before you, gun in hand, in the underbelly of Madripoor. It was a reflection, perhaps, of how life's unpredictable currents could sweep anyone into unforeseen harbors.

Her gaze, sharp and unyielding, locked onto Zemo, the intensity of her scorn palpable. "You cost me everything," she accused, the words heavy with resentment. Sam attempted to interject, offering explanations that seemed to dissipate before they could reach her, lost in the void of her grievance. "I stole Steve's shield, remember?" she reminded, her resolve steel-hard, the weapon unwavering in her grasp. "I also took the wings for your ass," she directed at Sam, causing a ripple of tension to pass through you. The mention of sacrifices made—her actions for their benefit—underscored the gravity of her fall from grace. Her focus shifted momentarily to Bucky, implicating him in the web of consequences, before returning to Zemo with a disdainful flick. Finally, her eyes found you, registering your presence with a flicker of surprise. "No idea who you are," she stated, an admission that underscored the complexity of alliances and identities in this shadowy world.

With a determined stride, Bucky advanced towards Sharon, his every step a testament to his intent to defuse the tension that crackled in the air. He engaged her with words, his tone both pleading and firm, navigating through the storm of her fury. Eventually, her grip on the gun loosened, the weapon tucked away after an exasperated sigh, a silent concession to his efforts. Sharon then proposed an unexpected truce, inviting you all back to her sanctuary. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on you; moments before, the cold metal of her gun had promised anything but hospitality.

Crossing the threshold into Sharon's abode, you were immediately struck by an array of art that adorned every wall and surface. The collection was staggering, a visual feast of masterpieces that seemed too authentic, too valuable to be merely decorative. You half-joked to yourself about the possibility of the Mona Lisa being tucked away in a corner, marveling at the fortune that surrounded you, captured in oil and canvas.

The offer of a change of attire came next, with Sharon presenting an array of elegant garments that seemed to glide into the room on a valet rod. The promise of shedding your current attire, particularly the torturous heels that had been your nemesis throughout the evening, was a relief. Barefoot, you approached the selection with eagerness, only to have your enthusiasm dimmed by the realization that the options available were far removed from your comfort zone. Accustomed to the simple reliability of sneakers and boots, the sight of such finery felt daunting, alien.

Facing Sharon, a hint of disappointment lacing your expression, you ventured a request, hoping for something more aligned with your sense of style. "Don't you have anything less... that?" The words hung between you, a polite plea for normalcy amidst the opulence that defined her world.

"Like what?" Sharon's question cut through the tension in the room, her gaze drifting momentarily over Bucky and his shirtless state alongside Zemo. The moment made your skin crawl slightly, an unwelcome distraction in the midst of the unfolding scenario.

"Jeans?" you ventured hopefully, trying to steer the conversation back to a more comfortable topic, despite the circumstances.

"We are going to a club in Madripoor," Sharon pointed out, as if the venue demanded a specific dress code that was far from your preference.

"Yes?" you responded, not fully grasping why your suggested attire wouldn't be suitable, your tone a mixture of confusion and mild annoyance.

After a brief pause, during which Sharon seemed to consider her response, she chose to bypass your suggestion entirely, moving past you as if you had become part of the room's extravagant background. Your frustration evident, you rolled your eyes at her dismissive attitude and turned back to the daunting task of selecting an outfit from the array provided. Among the lavish options, you managed to find flared leather leggings and a high-neck crop top with a singular sleeve—a rebellious choice that echoed your own style while avoiding the discomfort of another glitter-infested dress. As you began the awkward dance of changing into the leather pants without first removing your current dress, a subtle commotion caught your attention.

Bucky, ever the protector, had taken it upon himself to ensure your privacy. His large hand found Zemo's neck, not harshly but with enough insistence to pivot the man's attention away from you. However, it wasn't just Zemo's attention he was diverting; his own gaze, filled with an intensity you couldn't quite decipher, kept flickering back to you. Each look seemed to linger a moment too long, filled with an emotion he seemed to struggle to define, let alone express. With a visible effort, Bucky tore his gaze away, a stern resolve setting in as he forced himself to focus on anything but you.

Your brother went to lift his whiskey glass off the table when he spotted what was inside of it. A shiver ran down his as he fished out the little snake part and stood to throw it out the window. The expression on his face made you throw your head back laughing. He raised his brow at you in question. You lifted your hands. "I didn’t do it."

"Then why are you laughing?"

"Because whoever did, is a genius." You were about to pull the top over your head when Sam pinched you in the side. "Ow, what the hell, Sam!" With furrowed brows, and the tight top stuck on your shoulders, you tried to kick him in the shin, though he moved back just in time; a broad grin rested on his face. "Too slow, sista," Sam teased, his playful nudge against your head causing your already precarious balance to falter further. With a grunt of mock indignation, you surged forward, aiming a determined chest-bump at your brother, eager to see him mirror your momentary imbalance. Your efforts were rewarded with a triumphant laugh as Sam was forced to step back, the shared moment of childish glee lighting up your features with a wide grin. This brief interlude of sibling rivalry whisked you back to those carefree days of your youth, where even the simplest acts of brotherly teasing felt like the grandest adventures. Back then, Sam could do no wrong in your eyes, the epitome of an older brother in the most magnificent form.

In the midst of your playful scuffle, you were secretly relieved that Sharon had exited the room. Her presence might have added a layer of self-consciousness to the innocent chaos. Although the antics might seem juvenile to an outsider, to you, they were a rare slice of normalcy—a cherished reminder of a life untouched by cosmic wars or Thanos' dread shadow.

As Sam busied himself with selecting an outfit, your struggle with the unyielding fabric of your top grew increasingly frustrating. The material, devoid of any give, clung stubbornly in all the wrong places. With your back to Bucky, a soft sigh of exasperation escaped you. "Buck?" The quiet call for assistance was barely above a whisper, yet it summoned his attention instantly.

"Need a hand?" His voice was close, filled with a gentle concern that made your heart flutter slightly.

"Yes, please," came your subdued reply, the momentary vulnerability feeling strangely intimate. Then, you felt it—his touch. The slight graze of Bucky's skin against yours as his fingers traced a path up your side, his touch delicate yet assured. He navigated the fabric with a tender precision, his fingers briefly pausing at the edge of your top before guiding it smoothly into place. The fleeting caress that followed lingered just long enough to ignite a shiver of anticipation, a warmth blossoming within you that craved the closeness of his embrace. His breath, a warm whisper against the nape of your neck, sent a thrilling chill down your spine.

"You look beautiful," he murmured, the compliment hanging in the air between you, charged with an unspoken emotion that seemed to draw you even closer, tethering your heart to his with an invisible thread of affection and longing.

"I absolutely agree," Zemo's voice cut through the tension, drawing an involuntary growl of annoyance from Bucky. With a gesture of mock surrender, Zemo backed away, his steps carrying him to the bar where three glasses of whiskey awaited their silent call to be savored. Bucky, feeling the palpable shift in the room's dynamics, reluctantly distanced himself from you, his departure leaving a subtle chill in the wake of his warmth. He reclaimed his seat on the sofa, a move you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment over.

Sharon chose that moment to grace the room with her presence, her arrival marked by the lively bounce of her blonde waves. She exuded a casual confidence, her tone light, yet probing. "So," she hummed, curiosity lacing her words, "How's the new Cap doing?"

Before Sam had the chance to form a response, Bucky's voice, laced with a mixture of disdain and resignation, filled the room. "Don’t get me started." His hands found each other, intertwining in an awkward dance as his gaze inadvertently met yours. Even in the simplicity of his all-black ensemble, accentuated by a blazer that lent an air of sophistication, Bucky looked effortlessly handsome, commanding the space around him with an understated elegance.

Sharon, undeterred by the tense atmosphere, pressed on, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "Oh, please. You buy into all that stars and striped bullshit." Her pointed gaze shifted to Zemo. "Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap's best friend." With a fluid motion, she sank into the space beside Bucky, a deliberate bite of her lip following her words.

The action did not go unnoticed, drawing a frown from you, a silent testament to the unfolding dynamics. Bucky, catching Sam's eye, shared a moment of mutual understanding, tinged with a hint of disbelief. "Wow," he uttered, the word heavy with implication. "She's kind of awful now." His observation, though softly spoken, resonated with a mix of humor and a poignant undercurrent of nostalgia for times and alliances past.

As you momentarily extracted yourself from the animated discussion unfurling within the living room, your attention was ensnared by the relentless buzzing of your phone, a beacon of unchecked notifications. A myriad of messages from your sister painted your screen, a digital mosaic of concern and updates. "I'll be right back," you announced, your voice threading through the dense air of conversation that was currently monopolized by debates over the Flag Smashers. The name itself, a moniker you found both laughably juvenile and misleadingly innocuous, echoed in your thoughts as you distanced yourself from the discourse, finding solace in the quietude of the hallway.

Leaning against the cool, indifferent wall, you began the arduous task of sifting through the digital deluge, your fingers scrolling with practiced ease. It was then, amidst the solitude of your temporary retreat, that the ambiance subtly shifted, heralding the approach of another. The door opened with a hushed creak, and there he was—Bucky, his presence alone commanding your undivided attention.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice a gentle intrusion, as he navigated the space around you to claim his own against the wall opposite. His casual demeanor belied the concern etched into the furrows of his brow.

"Hey," you echoed, a mirror of his own greeting, yet laden with an unspoken acknowledgment of the weight he carried in his gaze.

"You alright?" His inquiry was simple, yet laden with layers of unvoiced thoughts and concerns. There was a palpable hesitation in his words, a reluctance to tread upon the terrain of your powers—a subject he knew stirred a tempest of emotions within you. “You used your powers.”

"I did," came your affirmation, your response punctuated with a grin that sought to mask the undercurrent of apprehension that had long shadowed your relationship with your own abilities. "I'm alright, though, really." Your attempt to reassure him—and perhaps yourself—was sincere. "It felt weirdly freeing to use them. To see how well I can actually keep control. They are still kind of scary, though."

As the words tumbled from your lips, Bucky bridged the gap between you, each step he took charged with an unspoken intensity. Suddenly, the world seemed to narrow down to the space that separated you, every detail of his approach etched into your memory—the way the light danced in his eyes, the barely perceptible tension in his jaw, the silent communication of his body language that spoke volumes of his concern and his undeniable pull towards you.

The proximity between you dwindled to a mere breath, a distance so trivial yet laden with a myriad of unspoken possibilities. The air around you thickened, charged with a palpable tension that sent your heart racing, your breaths shallow. The notion of closing the distance, of yielding to the gravitational pull that seemed to draw you inexorably towards him, flickered through your mind like a tantalizing promise. It was an effort to maintain your composure, to anchor yourself to the moment without succumbing to the overwhelming urge to bridge the final vestiges of space with a kiss that threatened to unravel both of you.

Pressed against the cool, unyielding surface of the wall, the intensity of the moment had magnified as Bucky's hands found their way to your waist, his grip tightening with a hunger that sent waves of anticipation coursing through your veins. His large, calloused hands, battle-hardened yet gentle, conveyed a sense of urgency as they dug into your flesh, pulling you impossibly closer into his embrace. The strength in his touch was paradoxically comforting, each finger imprinting a promise of protection and desire onto your skin.

The world around you had faded into a distant murmur, his presence engulfing you, drowning out everything else. Bucky's body molded against yours, his chest to your chest, his hips locked with yours in a dance as old as time. The pressure of his hands on your waist was both a claim and a caress, a testament to the depth of his longing. It was as if he was trying to merge two separate existences into one, to erase any space that still lingered between you.

As his lips moved with a tender ferocity against yours, you could feel the raw power of his emotions, restrained yet palpable. The sensation of being wholly desired, of being pulled into someone's orbit with such intensity, was both exhilarating and terrifying. His touch spoke volumes, whispered of need and want that had been simmering beneath the surface, now unleashed in the privacy of this shared moment.

The hunger in his grasp was matched only by the passion of your response, your own hands exploring the expanse of his back, tracing the lines of muscle and scars that told the story of his past. Together, you were adrift in a sea of heightened sensations, every caress, every kiss, every breath amplifying the connection that had been quietly growing between you. In that moment, with Bucky's hands anchoring you to him, you weren't just touching; you were speaking a language of longing, of mutual understanding and unspoken promises made in the quietude of hearts beating in unison.

A voice unexpectedly cut through the thick haze of the moment shared between you and Bucky. The abrupt sound of Sam’s voice, laced with surprise and a hint of disbelief, acted like a cold splash of reality.

“Someone care to explain what’s going on here?” he demanded, his tone piercing the bubble that had enveloped you and Bucky. The shock of being discovered, especially by your brother, sent a jolt through you, compelling you to break the kiss.

Oh, no.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes series #bucky x you #winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier

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make-me-imagine · 1 year

Text

Flowers and Courage

Plot: After Bucky fears he might lose his chance with you, he finally finds the courage to tell you how he feels.

Prompts: 'Secret admirer' + "I'm tired of hiding how I feel about you."

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Gn!Reader

Requested By: Anonymous (a left over request from Valentines Day)

A/n: Sorry its so short and kind of sucks lol I had some trouble getting it down.

Words: 1.1k

Bucky was deep in thought as he sat at the bar, his hands slowly turning the glass in his hands as he thought about what to do. He wasn't sure how long he had been here already, but it felt like time had slowed down since he sat down to think.

He felt like he was in grade school all over again. Uncertain of how to tell his crush how he feels, so instead he just leaves them secret notes and candy.

But he wasn't a child anymore, and you weren't just a crush. He had never felt anything so deep and real for anyone before. And he had never found something so hard as he did confessing to you.

It was supposed to be easy, show up at your doorstep with flowers. Allow them to lead into a natural confession. But the second you opened your door, and your eyes cast over the flowers, causing a look of surprise over your face, he panicked.

"These were in front of your door." He said suddenly, feeling all courage he thought he had dissipate.

"Oh really?" You asked with growing curiosity as you took them. "I wonder if they were left at the wrong door."

Bucky felt disappointment and anger at himself wash over him as he held back on saying they were definitely for you.

That had happened months ago. And ever since then, it had become habit for him to hide how he felt. The coffees and flowers left to you randomly at work were thought of as kind gestures of a stranger.

When in reality it was Bucky. Showing his feelings for you the only way it seemed he could. Secretly.

He admired you from afar, adored you really. But was your friend up close, showing no real evidence of how he felt, or so he thought, and hoped.

Bucky thought it was fine, it could become the normal, it had become the normal. Until yesterday, when he overhead another agent talking to you, flirting shamelessly.

And then the man had the audacity to take credit for the flowers and the coffees, everything Bucky had done for you. This ass-hat had swooped in taken all the credit, trying to sweep you off your feet.

It infuriated Bucky, but he held back, not wanting to make a scene, or throw the man through a window.

So here he was, trying to find what courage he could through the anger to tell you once and for all how he felt about you.

Downing the last of his drink, Bucky slapped some money down and left, determination anchored in his heart as he made his way towards your apartment.

--- --- ---

As you pulled open your door, your heart leapt in you chest as you saw Bucky standing at your doorstep. You always felt that same wave of nervousness and butterflies when you saw him, even though you had known him, and been friends for years.

Your eyes cast down to his hands and you felt your chest clench. Flowers. Were they for you? Were they from him? Were they left at your doorstep again? Were they from the agent from work?

Out of all of those options, you hoped they would be from Bucky. Just like you had hoped they were the first time.

"Bucky, hi!" You greeted with a bright smile. "Come in!"

He smiled, but you could tell something was off, he seemed nervous, and that only added to your own anxieties.

As he stepped into your apartment he cleared his throat, handing you the flowers that had been in his hands, you noticed his knuckles were white as he gripped them before letting go.

"These are for you."

"Oh-" You hesitated for a moment "Were they left at the door step again?"

The first time this happened, when Bucky told you the flowers were left at your doorstep you were disappointed. But something told you they had really been from him. Maybe it was just you being hopeful.

Bucky shook his head and spoke, his voice softer than you had been expecting. "No, they're from me."

He saw your eyes widen as your face brightened up and he felt a wave of relief and triumph wash over him.

"Thank you, but- what are they for?" You asked cautiously, yet curious.

A thousand thoughts seemed to cross Bucky's mind in the span of a second as he froze, before he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck.

"They- uh, there-" he sighed before laughing dryly "I used to be better at this."

You smiled "Better at what Buck?"

He met your eyes and saw nothing but your familiar kindness, and a hint of encouragement, even eagerness.

"Confessing."

You felt as thought your heart stopped as your breath hitched in your throat.

Bucky continued before you could respond. "Those flowers from a few months ago, they weren't left on your doorstep, I got those for you too, I just...panicked"

You repressed a giggle "You...panicked?"

"I know." He laughed softly. "I don't know I just- I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same, and that it would ruin what friendship we had. So I kept it to myself. I left you coffees and flowers at your desk after that" he saw your face turn to realization "And yesterday I heard that douc- that guy tell you he did it, and it pissed me off. But I realized it was my fault, for not having told you earlier. So I decided to tell you. Because- because I'm tired of hiding how I feel about you. I care about you much more than I have anyone in my life. And I don't want to lose you or any chance I might have of being with you. "

He watched you closely as you looked down at the flowers, watching as a smile slowly spread across your face. "I knew he didn't leave them for me. He made it so obvious he was lying." You looked up and met Bucky's eyes "And honestly, I had a feeling it might have been you, but I was too afraid to get my hopes up. Because I feel the same about you Bucky, everything you said, I feel it too."

You saw a wave of relief and happiness cross his face as you spoke. Suddenly he stepped closer, reaching up and gently touching your cheek as he smiled. "I wasted quite a bit of time, didn't I?"

You shrugged as your grin widened "Nothing you can't make up for."

Sorry it ended so abruptly, I literally could not get anything else out of my brain lol

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @alexxavicry, @witchygagirl

Marvel+Bucky Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney, @trashywritestrash, @groovy-lady, @marvelouslyme96, @supersourlemon13, @mochamoff, @simsiddy, @gay-and-ready-to-cry, @flourishandblotts-inc, @spuffyfan394, @agent-catfish-kenobi, @locke-writes, @cs-please, @soultrysworld, @a-lumos-in-the-nox, @creativitybeware, @that-marvel-simp, @gatefleet, @skylions-den, @dominos-palast, @maellem, @readingwithatorch, @cauliflowertree, @writerfulltime, @cosplayingwitch, @sweetpeapod, @hoodedbirdie, @oliviah-25,

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #buck barnes imagine #marvel imagine #falcon #falcon and the winter soldier imagine #fatws #fatws x reader #falcon and the winter soldier x reader #captain america imagine #avengers imagine #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier imagine

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 6 months

Text

Harry Potter » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

December 11th

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Y/N knows exactly what she’s getting Bucky for Christmas after overhearing his conversation with Steve and Sam.

Warnings: Fluff, language, kissing, pet names (doll)

A/N: I don’t know much about Harry Potter. This is based off of what I heard on The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found this one on Google.

❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

You were walking through the Avengers Compound, looking for Bucky to visit him at work. You frowned when you couldn’t find him. You heard voices when you got closer to the lounge room. You stopped before you got to the door and listened for a moment.

“Theres no such thing as witches.” Bucky says.

“I have to agree with Bucky.” Steve says.

“What about Doctor Strange?” Sam says.

“He’s a sorcerer.” Bucky says, squinting his eyes at him.

“A sorcerer without a hat!” Sam argues.

“Oh my god.” Bucky sighs. “Who are you gonna fight now? Gandolf?” He says.

“Wait, how do you know about Gandolf?” Sam asks.

“I read the Hobbit in 1937 when it first came out.” Bucky says.

“So you guys see my point?” Sam says.

“No we don’t.” Bucky says.

That’s when you walked in the room and their attention was on you. Bucky smiles and approaches you.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky kisses your lips. “What are you doing here?” He asks.

“I wanted to visit my handsome superhero boyfriend at work.” You smiled up at him. “By the way, is all you three talk about is Harry Potter when I’m not around?” You asked.

“How much did you hear?” He asks.

“Just enough to know that my 106 year old boyfriend is a nerd.” You giggled.

Sam bursted out laughing and Steve bit his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing.

“I don’t know why you two are laughing. You guys are nerds too.” You say making Bucky laugh.

You knew exactly what you’re going to get Bucky for Christmas now. The next day, you went to the nearest bookstore after Bucky left for work. You looked around the bookstore, looking for the books you’re getting Bucky.

“Is there something I can help you find?” An employee asks.

“Actually yes. I’m trying to find the Harry Potter books for my boyfriend. You say.

“They’re in the corner to the right. They’ll be on one of the middle shelves.” She smiles, pointing you in the right direction.

“Thank you.” You smiled.

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything else.” She says before walking away.

You walked in the direction she pointed you in and looked through the middle shelves. You smiled when you finally found what you were looking for. You picked up the set of books from the shelf and went to checkout.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” The cashier asks.

“Yes I did.” You say with a smile.

She scans the books and tells you the total. You paid and made your way to your favorite coffee shop to get something to drink before going home. When you got home, you were walking to yours and Bucky’s bedroom to wrap his Christmas present without noticing that Bucky was home.

“You’re not going to give me a hug and a kiss, doll?” Bucky says.

You yelped and quickly turned around, holding your hand over your chest.

“Bucky! When did you get home?” You asked.

“Like 15 minutes ago. I texted you saying that I was able to get off of work early so we can spend some time together.” He explains. “What’s in the bag?” He asks, reaching for it.

“That’s a surprise!” You move your hand further away. “You have to wait until Christmas.” You say, walking away.

Bucky tilted his head back and playfully groaned making you giggle. You went to the bedroom and locked the door behind you so Bucky didn’t try to come in and see you wrapping his present. You found some red and white striped wrapping paper and wrapped it with ease, topping it off with a silver bow. You put a tag on it saying “To Bucky my love, love your doll”. You sat there for a moment, debating on whether or not to give it to Bucky or wait until Christmas. “It wouldn’t hurt to give him an early Christmas present, right? Screw it.” You thought to yourself. You quickly cleaned up the little mess you made and grabbed the present, walking to the living room with it behind your back and sat down on the couch next to Bucky.

“I have something for you.” You say, handing him his present.

“What is it?” Bucky asks.

“Just open it and you’ll find out.” You say.

Bucky tore the wrapping paper off and a smile grew on his face.

“Do you like it?” You asked nervously.

“Like it? Doll, I love it!” He says, kissing your cheek.

“I’m happy that you love it.” You say with a smile.

“I haven’t read these since 1937.” He says, looking at the books.

“Maybe you can read one of them to me if you want.” You suggested.

“I’d like that.” Bucky says softly.

You cuddled yourself into Bucky’s side as he opened the book. About halfway through the book, Bucky noticed that you had fallen asleep. He bookmarked the page by folding the top corner. He picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bedroom, gently laying you on the bed and covered you up. Bucky got in bed next to you, pulling you to his side and wrapped his arms around you.

“Goodnight, doll. I love you.” Bucky says softly and kissed the top of your head.

“Goodnight, Bucky. I love you too.” You say sleepily.

❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

-Bucky’s Doll

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fluffysucker · 8 months

Text

Desperate People find faith.

Bucky Barnes x reader

An accident mends your broken heart.

A/N: Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female.

I read this amazing oneshot, and I couldn't stop thinking about this idea. So I added my own twist to it. Thanks to the wonderful writer for sharing it and for inspiring me.

Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me

TW: Bullets and blood. Mentions of torture but nothing explicit

Main Masterlist

You knew you shouldn't have done it. You should have stayed home. What could barely be described a home. You should have minded your business. You should have acted like the civilian you are now. You shouldn't have done it. But your loyalty to Steve wouldn't have let you

The image of the cheap copy so-called Captain America holding the shield blasting all over the news was a hit. A gut-wrenching hit. There was a guy who was taking the place of your childhood best friend, the man you called brother, the fearless leader. And he looked happy doing so. Then the blond had the audacity to say that Steve felt like a brother to him. You felt physical pain that you almost threw up.

Rationality went out the window. Before you knew any better, you were tracking down the man who was handed your friend's legacy. The man who gave it away when there was nobody more deserving than him. It wasn't hard to know exactly where Sam Wilson was. You were aware he joined the Air Force once again. So you hijacked the location of his next mission, demanding answers.

But it appeared that you weren't the only one who had the same plan. As you were talking to Sam, trying to be as nice as you could, giving him the benefit of the doubt, telling him you weren't here to judge or pick a fight. You just wanted an explanation. You heard him.

"Shouldn't have given up the shield."

His voice was filled with anger. But you could hear the sadness hidden in his tone. Sam scuffed, walking away from you as well. You turned around and you saw him. The love of your life. Quite literally.

You fail to recall a time you weren't in love with James Buchanan Barnes. Growing up together, your trio was inseparable. You would never see one without the others. From the age of three till your twenties, the three of you were more than family.

Despite loving Steve like the brother you never had, the same couldn't be said about his best friend. Your feelings for the brunette were never platonic. Neither were his. In the second grade, he promised to marry you once he got older. And he did. He kneeled to the ground with a beautiful golden ring for you once he secured a job. It was the easiest yes in your life.

Loving him came to you naturally. Stolen glances. Sweet words. Fast heartbeats. Shy smiles. Gentle touches. You were each other first everything. It was like you were made for each other. Like you were born to love him.

And he was your perfect man. Every woman envied you. Every woman hoped to have someone look at her like he looked at you. Every woman wished for a man who treated her the way he treated you. Every woman prayed for a man to love her that much.

Bucky Barnes was head over heels in love with you. And he made sure he showed it.

You were the luckiest girl.

Up until your luck ran out. War knocked on your door like a hurricane, destroying your life.

You remember the night before Bucky was shipped. When you went home after what couldn't be called a double date at Stark expo. The promises the both of you made. Your dream wedding. Your house. Your family. Your kids. All of it. Your future. And you believed him. You couldn't fathom any alternatives.

So when Steve walked in your tent where you did your job as a journalist, who was asked to cover The Howling Commandos missions and subject their heroism to the public, you knew. The look of utter defeat in his face, his glassy eyes, his red nose, the way he was trying to shrink away in his new huge body, you knew.

Your heart was ripped and broken to pieces. The pain was suffocating. You were drowning. You felt like the world ended. Life stopped.

You don't remember how things went after that. You don't remember if Steve ever said the words to you, but you remember his promise of revenge as he held your sobbing body against his chest.

And he did. He ended Hydra. But it came with a price. Very high. After Steve's sacrifice, life became meaningless. You weren't living. You were barely breathing. You were alone.

So when the government asked you to write the final article about the war, the winning announcement, you were about to turn it down. You found difficulties in everything. Leaving your bed sounded like a tiring task. Eating felt like a punishment. Functioning like a human became a burden.

But you remembered how supportive Bucky was of your career. When every man let women their abandon their dreams, Bucky helped you fight for yours. And he gave his life for this victory. Your fiancée and bestfriend. You owed it to them. To be the one to report the triumph tinted with their effort and blood.

So you put in all your strength and travelled with the small team to write the most important piece of work in your life.

However, only a number of people of the team and the article made it back. You didn't.

On your way back, you were ambushed by unknown soldiers. They took you to unknown quarters. You were so confused until you saw that cursed symbol. They weren't gone. Neither was your fiancée.

And that began a lifetime of torture and pain. They brainwashed Bucky but left you with your memories. So when they threatened to hurt him, you caved and let them do whatever they wanted to you. It was a trap they built for you, and you fell in it every time. They would hurt both of you at the end.

You endured it all. You survived it all. Except the moment they made Bucky look you in the eyes and fight you. They erased you from his mind. You saw the love of your life, and he saw nothing. He looked at you and saw either an enemy or a mission partner. And that was the most painful torture Hydra put you through.

As if this wasn't enough. You had to face a hindrance you never thought of.

After Steve rescued the both of you, after him running away from you, after spending two years making amendments with the government and helping Steve search for him, after the accords and Zemo's predicament, after he remembered you, after Princess Shuri was able to give him back his freedom, after you hugged him as he cried, after you decided to finally have that wedding, Thanos happened.

You believe you did something so terrible in another life, and you were getting punished for it in this life. There was no logical explanation as to why this kept happening to you. Why were you robbed of any chances of happiness. Why did you have to watch your man disappear right after having him back. Why you could only feel ache and misery. Why was the world so cruel.

So you kept your hopes to minimum when Steve came to your shared apartment one night, telling you that they had a plan. You agreed to join them in the time heist, ready to be disappointed.

But the second you saw Bucky standing on the sides with his machine gun, you wanted to cry. You thought it was an illusion, but these blue eyes said something else. Now, you were fighting with a strong drive and purpose.

You thought that was it. Your happy ending. You finally had him. But Steve leaving tore you apart. You were happy for your bestfriend who finally did something for himself. However, you couldn't help but feel sad. At least you and Bucky had each other.

Bucky had another thing in mind. Because, a couple of weeks after Steve leaving, Bucky broke up with. He said he needed to figure himself out and work on his pardon. You understood. But it didn't make it any easier.

So you left, giving him all the space he needed. You hadn't seen or spoken to each other since. At least he is alive. That's what you kept telling yourself to find any sort of comfort or condolence.

So this was the first time you had met. He looked different. He cut his hair. He had a scruff. He was wearing an all black outfit. He had gloves on. He had little bags under his eyes. He looked good overall. That's what mattered to you.

"Good to see you too, Buck." Sam said as he walked with intentions to move away from Bucky.

"This is wrong." Bucky didn't give him the chance as be walked beside Sam, without batting you an eye. You couldn't say that didn't hurt but you followed them anyway.

"Look, I'm working, alright. So all this outrage is going to have to wait." It was clear that Bucky wasn't here to have a civil conversation like you.

"You didn't know this was going to happen?" Bucky accused Sam.

"No, of course I didn't know that was going to happen." Sam was quick to deny Bucky's accusations.

"You think it didn't break my heart to see them march him out and call him the new Captain America." This was more directed towards you, following up to your conversation before Bucky cut in.

"This isn't what Steve wanted." Bucky wasn't going to back down.

"Oh my god. So what do you want me to do? Call America and tell them I changed my mind. " Sam's sarcastic reply did nothing but annoy Bucky's more.

"Like I told your wife. There is nothing we can do. You just couldn't wait for her to get home." You looked at Sam. It didn't appear to you that he wouldn't know.

"We broke up."

Another wave of pain hit you as you turned to look at Bucky, who was still not looking at you. How easy could he just say it with no emotions at all. You were fighting to get by every day, and he looked like he didn't care.

"What?!" Sam stopped suddenly once he heard Bucky's words, turning to the both of you.

"You,two lovebirds who literally broke laws to be together, broke up?" Sam couldn't believe his ears. He thought you would have gotten married by now. Your love for each other more epic than all the novels he read.

"Were you asked to give it up?" You changed the topic quickly, refusing to answer Sam's question or talk about your tragic love story. It hurt bad enough, and you didn't want to show it.

"Of course not." Sam heard you loud and clear. He also knew your question had pure intentions. You weren't here to offend him.

"Right, great reunion, guys. Be well." Sam turned to walk out, ending this conversation.

"You had no right to give up the shield, Sam." Bucky was angry, and he was showing it. In the wrong way.

"This is what you aren't going to do. You aren't going to come here in your over extended life and tell me about my rights." Three of you came to a stop.

"It's over." Sam added, looking at you as you came to stand next to Bucky.

"Besides, I have bigger things to deal with."

And you hadn't rest since.

It was, indeed, big thing to deal with.

You had no idea what you were getting yourself into when you impulsively followed Sam and Bucky into the plane.

It was a constant mess. The flag smashers. New super soldiers. Karli Morgenthau. Isaiah Bradley. Zemo. Madripoor. Power Broker. And the worst of them all. John Walker and Lemar Hoskins. It never ended.

All that chaos was a good distraction. You didn't have time to think about your broken heart nor to think about the current nature of your and Bucky's relationship.

It was complicated and confusing.

You fought very well together. Your combined sets of skills were lethal. Your collective training and ability to work together kicked in when needed. Away from that, the both of you barely talked. You acknowledged each other existence. That's how you would describe it.

However, you couldn't explain why Bucky refused when Raynor asked you and Sam to join them in the session in the police station. Or why he always made sure you stayed at least an arm distance away from Zemo. Or why did he choose to be the Winter Soldier for the night instead of you compromising your identity that you kept a secret all these years. Or why, that day at Madripoor, he almost took multiple bullets for you. Or why whenever John showed up, his hand would always find yours.

You were thankful you didn't have the time to think about all of this because you were sure you would have lost your mind. You barely had your emotions in checks. And there was a lot going on.

Then it all went crushing. You would never forget this day.

You followed Sam and Bucky, running out of the building into the street, only to see the calamity that just occurred.

John Walker stood proud with the blood-tinted shield above the man he just slaughtered.

Instinctively, your hand came up to wrap around Bucky's bicep, looking for any comfort for the both of you. This scene would forever be engraved in your memories.

Three of you gave John some time. You stood outside of the warehouse he was in right now. You knew if you all went angry, the results would be catastrophic.

But it was anyway.

You let Sam do most of the talking. He was the best in this. If anyone could convince John to hand over the shield, it would be him. So you stood and watched. But it appeared that the time you gave John Walker to cool down only drove him more over the edge. So, with the three of telling him to give up the shield, John Walker lost his mind.

It should have been an easy fight. A veteran and an avenger and two super soldiers. It shouldn't be hard. But neither one of the three of you was fighting was the intention to hurt John. Unlike him, John was fighting to kill. With his new powers, he was uncontrollable.

You let out a high-pitched scream once you saw John throw Bucky away, electrocuting his arm, making him lose consciousness. Then you watched as he straddled Sam on the ground. You needed to act quickly.

You groaned as you got up from the floor, looking at the cut in your arm. Nothing too bad. You told yourself as you ran toward John tickling him away from Sam.

It was just you and him, now.

And it was brutal.

You were still trying not to hurt him too much. However, he was unstoppable. So when he figured that he would lose combat with you eventually, he retrieved to other options.

Picking the shield and throwing it at you for it cause a cut in your chest was enough distraction for him to take out the gun he kept in his suit and shot you.

The bullets found their places in your stomach and legs. He aimed for places that you wouldn't recover from. You fell to the ground, coughing blood, feeling the bullets rest so deep in your body.

John walked towards you with the shield. He looked at you. His eyes were showing insanity and rage. He lifted the shield up and hit you in the chest. The pain was like no other. And you knew that was it.

It felt ironic in so many ways. Your bestfriend's shield. The shield that presented all of Steve's values and beliefs. The shield that helped once save your life. Now, it was going to be the weapon to kill you.

Of all the ways you thought you would die in, this wasn't even close. But when was life ever fair to you? At least you would have peace now. Your dying wish was for Bucky to know how much you loved him and how you wanted him to be fine and happy. Because you loved Bucky more than life itself.

You tried to distract yourself from the excruciating pain by counting how many hits of the shield would it take to end you.

You counted two.

You started coughing violently as you felt a weight got lifted off your chest. All your body going numb for seconds.

You saw Bucky was up once again, and he managed to corner John with Sam, trying to break his arm to take away the shield.

You desperately tried to get up and help them, but your whole body was on fire. Why was the serum not working?

A breath escaped you once you heard the sound of bone breaking. Only to realize breathing hurt. Everything hurt so bad.

With cuts on your arms and face, bruises on your ribs, wounds in your chest, bullets in your stomach and legs, you gave up, closing your eyes.

Because of your agonizing pain. You didn't hear Bucky beating the life out of John after taking the shield. He didn't stop until John passed out.

Bucky turned around and saw a sight that came straight out of his worst nightmares. He had seen it too many times. Woke up scared and sweating because of it. A sight that he knew would haunt him more than it already did.

Your lifeless body in a pool of blood.

He took careful steps towards you, praying it would disappear, and this would just be a nightmare of his. But the sound of your faint heartbeats made it real.

"Doll." Bucky got on his knees next to you, holding your motionless body in his arm.

You hissed in pain as you felt a movement that caused all the pain in your body to stir awake again.

"Bucky." Your voice was a whisper. You were too tired to open your eyes, but the feeling of the metal around you was familiar.

"I'm right here, doll." Bucky may not let it show in his voice, but if you opened your eyes, you would see the fear and tears.

"I need you to stay awake, okay. Can you do this for me? Please, stay awake." Bucky never felt this desperate before.

"Help is on the way." The three of you had already arranged with Torres to have an ambulance on stand-by. You had a feeling things would go bad. But not that bad.

"I'm tired." The amount of blood you were losing was making you too dizzy.

"I know, doll. But you will be okay." Bucky didn't care about the blood getting all over him as he pulled you closer to him.

"You will get better. Because you have to." He was saying it more to himself than you.

"I prayed for this." Talking was getting too hard, but you had to tell.

"What did you pray for?" Bucky was doing anything to keep you awake. He needed to listen to your voice.

"To die in your arms."

Bucky felt the tears escape his eyes, falling down freely on his face.

"You aren't dying. You will be okay." You heard it. The shakiness of his voice.

Fighting the great pain you were in, you opened your eyes to look at him. You wanted to see him one last time. This is why you prayed to die in his arms. So his face would be the last thing to see. This voice would be the last thing you heard. His arms the last thing you felt. Your farewell to the cruel world would be with the man who had been your heaven on Earth.

You lifted your arm with a moan of pain before you placed it on his cheek. You needed to say it. You needed it to be your last words.

"I love you, Bucky. I loved you my whole life."

With that, the world went dark.

You didn't get to see the mess that Bucky became as he heard your heartbeats slow down. His screams and desperate calls of your name to wake up.

He was so blinded by pain that he didn't let the paramedics near, protecting your body until he realized who they were. They didn't try to fight him when he insisted on getting in the ambulance with you.

All the time you were in the surgery, Bucky was inconsolable. He didn't care that Sam and Torres saw him as he sobbed, sitting on the floor waiting for anybody to tell you were fine. All he cared about was that he didn't say it back. You could die not knowing how much he loved you. The thought brought new tears to his already puffy red eyes

He prayed to God and anyone that would hear. If you were standing close enough, you would hear him. "Please, don't take her from me." "Please, let her be okay." "Take me instead of her." "She deserves so much better, please."

In his long life that was filled with hardships, torture, and wars, this was the worst pain he ever went through. He could feel his heart twisting and breaking. Every cell in his body was hurting. The emotional pain turning physical.

His eyes were dried up. Cheeks stained with tears. His mind going through all the worst scenarios. None of them he would be able to survive.

He jumped up from the floor when the door opened, and a doctor walked out. His heart was beating a thousand miles a second. All these prayers never leaving his mouth. His last hope.

"She is okay."

Tears of relief fell from his eyes. You survived it. You made it. The doctor talked about your injuries. With medications and the seurm, you would heal properly. Bucky didn't pay attention. His mind focused on one thing. He needed to see you.

After knowing your room's number, Bucky didn't leave your side. The doctor told him it might take a bit for you to wake up, but he didn't mind. He would stay forever.

It wasn't long before you woke up.

You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting to the bright lights. The last thing you remember was the intense pain. It didn't hurt as much now. You just felt so exhausted. You tried to move your hands, only to be blocked.

You looked down to see Bucky holding your hand so tightly and his head resting next to it. You could tell his eyes were swollen and his nose was red. But he looked peaceful sleeping. You missed him so much.

Without much thought, you moved your other free hand to his head, playing with his hair. It felt soft under your fingers. You blamed the serum that made him wake up from such a simple touch.

You smiled softly as you watched him, trying to remember where he was and what he was doing. He looked confused until he saw you.

"You are awake." Bucky got up from the seat next to the bed.

"Are you okay? Are you pain? What hurts? I'm going to call the doctor." He was frantic. He only stopped when you held his metal hand.

"I'm okay, Bucky." You reassured him with a smile.

You repeated it a couple of times before he finally sat back down on the chair. That's when you noticed he was still in his suit that was covered in blood. Your blood.

After he sat down, he looked at your intertwined fingers together and couldn't help the tears.

"What's wrong?" You asked as you moved your thumb gently on his knuckles.

"You scared the life out of me." He answered as he wiped his tears away.

"Though we were used to this, Barnes." You replied playfully, hands still together.

"Not when it comes to you. Never you." Bucky was fast to respond.

"Nothing I haven't been through before." You said it casually. You didn't miss the look in Bucky's eyes. It held too much depth to it. You couldn't put your hand on it

"Is your arm okay? Do you need to get it checked?" Flashbacks were coming back to you bit by a bit. As you touched his metal arm, you remembered what happened to him.

"You are in the hospital bed, and you are asking about my arm." Bucky's laugh was dry. He would always be in awe of how caring you were.

"I will never stop caring about, Bucky. Even if you don't want me." It was true. Nothing could make you stop caring about Bucky.

"Don't want you?" Bucky couldn't let your comment go by.

"Yeah. You don't want me anymore. It's okay. I understand."

"You understand?"

"I remind you of a bad time. The worst. And you had to move on. You had to cut ties with all parts of this time."

"Is this why you think we broke up?"

"Isn't it?"

You started telling yourself this after the breakup as a way to pick the shattered pieces of your heart. Of course, he didn't want to be with someone who held their bad time as a constant reminder on her body as scars. Or with someone who went through the same hell as him. He deserved someone better. Someone who wasn't so damaged.

And you understood.

"No, it isn't."

He was planning to tell you everything but not right now. But words just fell out from the tip of his tongue.

"I don't look at you and see bad time. I look at you, and I see all my failures."

You looked at him, baffled, not getting what he meant.

"I remember everything."

You still didn't know what he wanted to say.

"I remember what Hydra did to you. What they made you do for me. What I did to you."

"Bucky.."

"How they pushed you too far in the lies of not hurting me. How they made you watch as they erased you from my mind. How they made me fight you. Hurt you."

You were about to tell him how you didn't hold him accountable to any of this because it was never his fault. It was never his intention. You were sure Bucky would never hurt you. The Winter Soldier not too. But he cut you off.

"They took you because they knew how much you meant to me. How important you are to me. I was the reason you had to go through all of this."

"I look at you and remember how I failed to protect you. When that's all I ever wanted in life. To protect you. But I failed."

"Just like I failed today."

Before you could say anything, he kept going.

"I couldn't understand how you could still love me."

"I looked at the list of people I hurt, and your name was first. And you wanted to help me. You wanted to stay by my side. I couldn't live with the guilt. I still can't. I had to let you go despite how bad it hurts."

"But, doll, I want you to be sure nobody will ever love you half as much as I do."

It took years for Hydra to remove you from his mind. But what they didn't know was that they never fully succeeded.

At first, he would forget his name but remember his girl and everything about you. Then they become harsher, so he would only remember your face and name. Then, it became only your face. Then nothing. The blank paper for them to write what they wanted.

However, whenever Hydra made the both of you train together or go on missions, he would get this rush of flashbacks like a movie playing in his head once he was alone in his cell. It would be you. In different places and different ages. The Winter Soldier would convince himself that it must be his memories from past missions. Effects of being wiped too many times.

The soldier was never able to shake the feeling of guilt after a training session where he would be instructed to be tough with you. A feeling so foreign to him.

He remembers the first time he refused to hurt you. They made him watch from far as they tortured you. Then they wiped him again. Every time he showed any sympathy for you, he was wiped and handled roughly.

But all the efforts weren't enough. You were the first thing he remembered once he settled in Bucharest. That's when the guilt came in. It was you. The love of his love. His fiancée. And they got to you. And he couldn't save you.

Even after the blip, His thoughts kept going back to how he betrayed you and hurt you instead of protecting you like he was meant it.

But the worst part was how he thought he didn't deserve your love anymore. He thought you would resent him. So he decided to break his heart into two. He left.

You were the forbidden topic that Raynor wasn't allowed to go near despite how much she wanted. You were the centre of his nightmares. All of them. Past memories of both of you at Hydra. Missions and trainings. And the worst, losing you. Watching you getting killed. Nightmares that invaded him, and he was defenceless.

"I love you, and I'm so sorry." Bucky laid soft kiss on your hand.

"Let me ask a question, Bucky." He looked at you, tears still filling his eyes.

You didn't expect this to be the real reason why you and Bucky broke up. But you should have known. He was too good of a man.

"If it had been the other way you around, wouldn't you have done the same? Would you have hated me then?"

"I would give my life for you without hesitation. And nothing could ever make me hate you."

His answer was fast. That was the only thing he knew about himself. You come first, always.

"Then why are you surprised with what I did? You don't love me more, Bucky." You laughed softly, already feeling your ribs ache a bit.

You always had this running joke that Bucky loved you more than you did. And to a lot of the extent, it was true.

"You didn't deserve it."

"Neither did you."

You patted the spot on bed next to you, wanting him to be close to you. And he listened. He sat on the bed, hands never leaving each other.

"Haven't we been through enough? Haven't the world tore us apart too many times? Let us have this."

If he still loved you, then you should be together. You should be broken together. You should heal together. It was poetic how even in pain, you were still together.

Both of you understood each other better than anyone. You shouldn't be separated.

"You don't hate me?" It was Bucky's worst fear and biggest doubt. If the damage Hydra did was unrepairable.

"I can live hundreds of years and still be in love with you."

You squeezed his hand to make sure he knew how serious you were. "You are all I have ever known, Bucky."

With that, Bucky got up and moved so close to you. Your faces millimetres away from each other. His breath fanning over your face. His personal scent with dust and blood engulfing you. His blue eyes warming the inside of you.

"I got the best girl of them all." Bucky kissed you.

It was a soft, slow kiss. A sign of starting over. Of getting back.

You smiled in the kiss. Bucky used to say this all the time back then. You were known as Bucky's best girl. He used to call you that.

You broke away, feeling so much better now. Bucky rested his flesh hand on your cheek.

"I thought I lost you. I was so scared."

"You didn't. I'm right here."

"Though you will leave me before I say it back." You looked at him, puzzled.

"I love you, doll. You are the thing I live for. You are the purpose of my existence. I love you so much."

You didn't care about the pain as you moved up to meet his lips one more time. And he kissed you back right away.

"You owe me a ring and wedding, Barnes." You joked while you brought your other hand to hold into his suit to ground yourself.

He laughed before he moved away for a bit, and you already missed the closeness, and he wasn't far. You watched as he brought his dog tags out. You saw something bright with them but couldn't tell it was.

"Oh my god." You felt tears gather in your eyes as Bucky brought out the shiny thing closer.

It was your ring. Your engagement ring. The ring Bucky put in your finger many years ago. It was it. You thought it must have been lost that you didn't try to look for it, avoiding the disappointment.

But here it was. Bucky was able to find it. And he kept it with his dog tags. So close to his heart. Where you belonged.

Bucky got in one knee in his technical gear in a hospital room with you connected to IV.

"Doll, will you marry me?"

You laughed loudly that you felt pain shot again in your body. Bucky was next to you in an instant when your laugh turned to a cough.

"Third time is a charm." You said as you gave him your hand.

With another proposal in Wakanda before the snap, you managed to get Bucky Barnes on his knees three times for you.

He put the ring on your finger and pressed a kiss on your hand. "It will be. Mrs. Barnes." The name always had its sweet effect on you.

Bucky leaned in again to kiss you. And this kiss felt out of the world. Like a lifeboat before drowning. Water after the drought. Your rescue.

It was Bucky's promise of safety and security. Nothing and nobody was ever going to hurt you again. A promise of a safe home. Together.

You kept your forehead resting on his as your hand found its place once again on his suit.

"No to be rude, but you need a shower, babe." You could feel the dust on his face and the blood dried on his suit and skin.

"I will be okay. Probably going to fall asleep." You didn't give him a chance to protest.

"Plus, you know. I like my man nice and clean." You pecked his lips playfully.

The sound of the word "your man" falling from your lips referring to Bucky made his heart do little dances. Damn right he was your man.

"I won't take long." He kissed your hair before he got up and left to get himself presentable for his lady.

The world felt lighter, brighter, better. You felt happy. You were happy. You looked at the ring that held huge meaning for you. You weren't hurting. You were finally okay. You had your man back.

Who would have thought a near death incident would be the thing to give you back the man who always brought life to you.

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onceuponastory · 1 year

Text

all this love - bucky barnes x reader

I took all this love I found, and I hope that it's enough Is it enough? - only love by pvris

Plot: After John Walker oversteps, Y/N makes sure that her boyfriend Bucky knows just how much she loves him. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: John Walker being an asshole, some violence (not from Bucky), slightly graphic mentions of injuries and blood, a few mentions of Bucky’s past as The Winter Soldier, and the anxiety/self doubt he has afterwards. As always, if I miss any triggers please let me know! Notes: Some of you may know but I love PVRIS, and I love this song, so of course I had to write something for Bucky using it. Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own. Also, thanks again to @staticscreenwriting / @astartothemoon for my dividers!

Y/N scans the room, keeping an eye out for Karli and the other Flag Smashers. As she does, she suppresses a sigh. She loves accompanying Bucky and Sam on their missions and helping them as best as she can, but this time it’s different. For once, she can’t wait to get home. Mostly because of their company - John Walker.

At first, she tried to be civil, even though she, like the others, doesn’t agree with him being made Captain America. And Lemar is friendly enough. But John’s done nothing but be annoying and rude to them all ever since they joined forces. At least once this is over, they can forget he ever existed.

Right now, John’s complaining about something yet again, angrily pacing around as he does. “John, just calm down. We’ll find Karli soon.” Y/N insists. Immediately, John stops, his head whipping round angrily. Despite how annoyed he makes her, the glare John gives her at that moment strikes fear into her heart.

“Don’t do that Y/N. Don’t fucking patronise me. You have no idea of the pressure I’m under.” He warns. As soon as he takes a step towards her, Bucky and Sam are by her side, ready to shield her if needed. Bucky’s face hardens angrily.

“She wasn’t patronising you, John. And you better watch your tone. Don't talk to my girlfriend like that.” Bucky warns, his eyes narrowing slightly. However, instead of backing off, John keeps going, this time turning his attention to Bucky.

“Or what? Are you going to go all Winter Soldier on me?” He scoffs. Bucky visibly tenses at John’s words. Protectively, Y/N steps forward, reaching out for Bucky’s hand. “This is really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum running through your veins.” John continues, not caring about the obvious effect his words are having on Bucky.

“Watch your fucking tone….” Y/N hisses. Yet John ignores her warning, continuing his verbal tirade on Bucky.

“I mean, does anyone here really trust him after what he did? Who’s to say he’s not working with them, or that he won’t try to kill us too?” Y/N’s anger grows, and she tightens her grip on Bucky’s hand.

“John.” Sam warns. Bucky opens his mouth, about to defend himself.

“What? Don’t act like you don’t agree. He’s a monster who doesn’t deserve to be here.” And with those words, Bucky’s face falls. He turns and looks at Y/N, his eyes shimmering with tears. The sight breaks Y/N’s heart. Before she can say anything, Bucky turns and storms off.

“Bucky! Bucky, wait!” Y/N calls after him. Just as she’s about to go after him, John’s smug voice sounds once more.

“I don’t know why she’s going after him. He’s not worth it. She’s too good for someone like that, anyway.” He murmurs, clearly intending for her to hear him. Y/N’s blood boils, and her fist clenches.

“Y/N….” She registers Sam’s voice beside her, warning John to be quiet, and for her to control her anger before she does something she regrets. And for a moment, she considers doing just that, and simply going after Bucky. Yet, John’s next words seal his fate.

“Besides, I’m a much better choice. At least I’m not a murderer.” Y/N turns around, marching right up to John. He sneers at her, the look making her stomach churn. But she’s too blinded by anger to think about that right now. “See, she understands-” John’s words are cut short by Y/N’s fist connecting with his nose. A sickening crack fills the room, and John hisses as blood begins to pour from his nose. “You fucking bitch.” He hisses, lunging for her before being pulled back by Lemar in the nick of time, whilst Sam pulls her back, protectively grasping her arm.

“Say that shit about my boyfriend again, and I’ll end you.” She warns, her voice like venom. Sam’s voice sounds again, telling her to choose her next words carefully. Of course, she knows he’s right, but she ignores him, too angry to even think straight. “He never chose to be a killer, but you chose to be an asshole.” She blocks out whatever the rest of John says, consumed by her desire to find Bucky safe and well.

“I’m going to go find him. Can you deal with…that?” She gestures vaguely in John’s direction, and Sam nods.

Y/N visits several places to try and find Bucky: a park, a number of coffee shops and bars, searching high and low for the brunette super soldier she loves more than anything in the world. And yet, there’s no sign of him. With each failed sighting, Y/N’s stomach churns more and more with anxiety, and her heart pounds more and more. Bucky is fast, and he could be anywhere by now. The next time she sees John, she’s going to do more than break his nose. Suddenly, her phone starts ringing, and for a moment, her heart almost stops, thinking it’s Bucky.

When she sees Sam’s name flash up on her caller ID, she can’t help feeling disappointed. But she knows Sam is Bucky’s friend too, and he wants to help find him just as much as she does.

“Any sign of him?”

“Nope. Checked everywhere nearby I could think of. Any news on your side?”

“None yet.” He replies, and she sighs. “Look, I’ll take the wings and see if I can find him. You go to the house and see if he’s there.”

“Okay.” Sam can immediately pick up on the anxiety in her voice, and he sighs.

“Y/N. We’ll find him, alright. I promise.”

“I hope you’re right.”

As soon as she steps into the house she shares with the boys, Y/N immediately senses that someone is there. Her heart rate picks up. Bucky. Maybe he’s here. “Bucky? Babe, are you there?” She calls. “It’s just me.”

“Go away.” A quiet, yet familiar voice calls. Despite how much her heart wrenches at the sound of pain in his voice, Y/N breathes a sigh of relief. He’s here, and safe. Y/N immediately sets off towards his voice, quickly texting Sam to let him know that Bucky’s okay. Bucky sits huddled beside their bed, curled up into a ball. He doesn’t even look up at her when she enters. The sight makes Y/N feel like a hundred daggers have been stabbed into her. She kneels down in front of him, gently placing her hand on his knee.

“Bucky, sweetheart, it's me.”

“I said, go away.” Bucky’s voice is muffled, but she can tell he’s been crying. Her eyes fill with tears, and she has to stop herself from finding John and punching him all over again. The fact someone like him, someone so rude and cruel, could make someone like Bucky feel so awful about himself infuriates her. “John’s right. I’m a monster. I don’t deserve anything good, especially not you.” Bucky sniffles, and Y/N’s heart breaks all over again.

“No, you’re not Bucky. What you did all those years, it wasn’t you. They tortured you and brainwashed you. It wasn’t your choice.” She insists. “The serum never corrupted Steve, but it didn’t corrupt you either. They made you a killer. It wasn’t your choice.” Bucky looks up at her then, the skin around his eyes red from crying. Y/N’s face softens. “You’re making amends and showing people you’re sorry. That says a lot about you. John has no idea what the fuck he’s talking about. He’s just an asshole.”

“But the serum is still in me. W-What if I hurt you?”

“You could never. All you’ve done is show me love and support. Honestly, I don’t think you’ve got an evil bone in your body.” Bucky takes her hand, squeezing it tightly, which Y/N returns. Even before they got together, Bucky has supported and protected her through it all, and now it’s her turn to do the same.

“You still deserve someone better. Someone who isn’t as broken and messed up as me. I thought I wasn’t good enough for you ever since we got together, and even John sees it, too.” Y/N leans in, gently kissing his forehead.

“Hey…I love you, Bucky. Nobody else, just you.” She insists, cupping his cheek in her palm and using her thumb to wipe away his tears. “And I love you just the way you are. To me, you’re the best person in the world. Don’t listen to John Walker. He’s not even half of the man you are. I know I can’t possibly take away all your pain and trauma, but I’ll be here to tell you just how good you are and how much I love you every day.”

“You’re such a good person, Y/N.” Bucky mumbles. “So kind, and so loving.”

“So are you. And you show me that every day.” Bucky shuffles forward into her embrace, wrapping his metal arm around her tightly.

They sit together for a while, Y/N letting Bucky cry as she holds him protectively, and whispering reassurances in his ear. “I’m going to be here forever, Buck. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.” She tells him when they pull away. Bucky manages a chuckle at that, and it makes her heart flutter. He gazes at her, smiling like she hung the moon.

“I’m glad. I don’t think I could ever survive without you in my life.” Smiling, Y/N leans in close, gently kissing his lips.

“Me neither. Good thing that I’m not going anywhere.” Bucky takes her hand, pressing a kiss to it. Suddenly, he notices the bruise developing on her knuckles, and his eyes widen.

“What happened to you? Did he hurt you? He can say whatever he wants to me, but if he hurts you, then there’s going to be a problem.” Bucky insists. Just as he’s about to get up, Y/N stops him.

“Don’t worry. It wasn’t him that did it…sort of.” Bucky’s brow furrows, and Y/N chuckles. “I punched that smug fucker right in his face after what he said to you. I probably broke his nose, actually.” Bucky gasps.

“You did that for me?”

“Of course I did.” She shrugs. “He doesn’t get to mess with my boyfriend and make him feel like shit without facing the consequences.”

“Thank you.” Bucky smiles. “At least let me get you some ice, though.” He helps her up, gazing at her with a smile. Y/N’s stomach flutters once more. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you protecting me, you know that?”

“Well, you protect me, so it’s only fair I return the favour.” He kisses her lips once more, and Y/N smiles. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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veebarnes13 · 2 months

Text

Melt winter away

Context: Bucky's heart is crippled by ice, it has been for so long that he doubts it will ever melt; until she brings heat into his frozen soul.

TW: slight sexual scene (detailed kissing)

Era: TFATWS

(English isn't my native language, feel free to correct me!)

Enjoy! :)

☆☆★☆☆

From the moment he had seen her, Bucky knew she was the one. On a random Wednesday, he saw her on the tip of her toes, reaching out for something on the top shelf. He knew she was the one for him. When he handed her what she was reaching for and locked eyes with her, he knew there was not anyone else than her.

It was her.

Every Wednesday night since then, they went on a date. It was their little ritual. He surprised himself circling every Wednesday on his calendar, his heart pounding at the pace of his wild thoughts.

Bucky didn't expect much of these dates at first. He thought to himself she would end up running from him because of his past, his scars, his frozen heart. Instead, she did the exact opposite.

Every Wednesday night, Bucky found his way back to her, and she welcomed him every time.

Her laugh, her smile, the spark in her eyes, her hair, her perfect face, every inch of her, changed something inside of him. He felt something change. Every second spent in her company made this feeling grow stronger until he was able to put words on it. Every little thing about her was warming up his heart. Every little thing about her made the thick ice he had been wearing for so long melt.

He was stuck between the enclosure of frost, trapped inside a prison of which he didn't have the key, and she had it. When was the last time he felt heat? Even the smallest amount of heat? He truly didn't know. All he recalled was the cold, the winter, slowly setting in, killing everything under its lethal breath. His fingers were numb from scratching in the walls surrounding him, his lungs pained him at each inspiration. No more fire, not even a spark.

But there she was, bringing with only a smile enough heat to warm up his blue fingers.

Bucky couldn't believe it. How could he? He was used to battle against his demons. Some of the scars has worn off over time, but there always were knew ones to carve his sufferance on his soul. He knew his demons by heart, still, he had no idea how to tame them. He had given up this hope - until she brought it back. Her presence kept Bucky's demons on a leash. He could breath without feeling the cold creeping in his lungs.

Rubbing shoulders with demons made him forget what angels looked like, but she reminded him.

Because she was an angel.

His angel.

Each Wednesday, Bucky battled his way back to her, back to her wide smile and her loud, beautiful laugh. He was convinced she was an angel. He could easily picture her with the softest wings, the brightest halo, her figure appearing from the lightest cloud. He didn't understand why she had left Heaven for his Hell, but she had walked in the winter as you would walk in the summer. She didn't flinch, she didn't look back. She got inside his Hell and battled for him. And each Wednesday, Bucky contemplated her angelic face, wondering how he could've been this lucky. He couldn't get tired of looking at her. It was like staring at the sun without it burning your eyes. He tried his best not to blink when he looked at her, scared she would fade away, and he'd end up waking up from a dream. It was too good to be true. She was too good to be true. But still, she came back every Wednesday.

And this very Wednesday, it had been eight weeks since they met. Eight dates. Two months.

To celebrate it, Bucky had bought the biggest flower bouquet he had found. He always gave her flowers, but never that much. He was a bit disappointed by his pick - roses -, but he knew it would mean a lot to his angel. He could've picked up tired flowers from the road and she would've smiled brightly anyway. But she was worth more than that. She was worth all the flowers on the goddamn planet.

Tonight, they were going stargazing. She had a convertible car, so she was the one picking him up, for the first time. He didn't mind. The thought of watching her drive made him smile.

As he was waiting for her to pick him up, he plucked out every single thorn from the roses with his left hand. The simple thought of her getting hurt by his fault was making his heart clench under the layers of ice. He knew he was going to harm her one day, but he wanted to push it farther, until he didn't have the strenght to anymore.

He was meant to harm things.

When she pulled into the drive, he rushed to the passenger seat before she could make a move to open the door for him. He looked at her beautiful, gorgeous, breathtaking figure and face, and his stomach did the thing. It always did it around her.

"Good ev-" she started, but the sight of the flowers cut her sentence.

She widened her eyes.

"Bucky, you didn't!" she exclamed.

"I did." he replied, smiling.

She giggled as he handed her the bouquet. She buried her nose into their scent and for a split second, Bucky got terrified by the idea that he might have forgotten a thorn. But she looked back up at him without a scratch and he sighed, relieved.

"It's trice the size as those you usually buy me." she quipped.

"Maybe more twice..." he replied, smiling.

She nudged him gently, making him chuckle.

"It's... I don't have the words." she whispered.

He smiled again. God, all he did around her was act like an enamoured teenager.

"Will they last the night? Or maybe I'd better make a stop at mine to put them in a vase." she said.

"They should last. If they don't, I'll buy others." he shrugged.

"No way! I won't let you do that!" she laughed.

So she drove to hers, put the flowers in water, and got back behind the wheel. He watched her drive, his breath gone at the sight of her. When she smiled at him at a red light, he felt a jolt strike his heart, and a spark lit up in the winter ruling his soul. He couldn't believe it. She was too perfect to be true.

They finally reached their destination, the top of a hill where the light pollution from the city was the lowest in town. He rushed to her door to help her out, as the perfect gentleman he was, and grabbed her hand.

He lead her to a spot where he spread out a blanket over the damp grass and gestured her to take place. She sat down and entwined their fingers to make him join her, pulling him close. He felt the thaw inside him when she rested her head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, still holding her hand, and he held her close, his heart quickening its beats.

She pointed constellations, guessed shapes between the stars, and he listened to her yap about everything that crossed her mind. She knew he wasn't good to fill the void that silence created between them, so she made sure she always had something to say, and he felt very grateful for that.

At one point, they laid down on their back to get a better view. She held his hand tightly, not letting go at all, and he brushed her knuckles with his thumb. They stopped talking to listen to the night. The celestial vault sprawled before their eyes, not a single cloud in sight.

He couldn't help himself. His eyes always went back to her. He contemplated her face turned towards the stars, the curve of her neck, the smile tickling her lips. She was ethereal. He was convinced even the angels still in Heaven could not compare at all with her. She was above beauty, above ethereal, even. Looking at her this way woke up a spark between his ribs. Looking back at the sky would tear him apart, so he kept admiring every perfect inch of her.

He was "hergazing" more than stargazing.

She bit the inside of her cheek and turned her head to look at him. He felt his beartbeat go wild. His thoughts scattered away as she started into his eyes, leaving only her on his mind.

"I thought we were stargazing." she sneered.

"You're brighter than the stars, doll." he stuttered.

She blushed and giggled.

"What an awful cheesy sentence. I love it." she laughed.

He cupped her cheek gently. He felt the heat of her face against his palm, warming up the cold inside of him. She smiled and he kept his hand there, letting the hotness of her blush sink in his fingers, travel up his arm and land on the ice over his heart. He could feel some water forming over the layers, dripping down his ribs, turning into mist as they reached his feet. She was warming him up, chasing the winter, and he absolutely loved it.

From that angle, as the moon was still low and the hill slightly higher than it, it hovered over the back of her head. It conferred her a halo, the halo she deserves, as if the moon was picturing the angel Bucky always believed she was. His stomach did the thing again. She looked like she had fallen from the cloudy word above.

His palm got sweaty against her cheek and he wanted to wipe it on his jeans, but she grabbed his wrist and kept his hand on her face. His breath catched in his throat.

In this instant, when she looked back at him this way, with a flame burning in her eyes, he felt the warmth get the best of him. The ice became water, the water mist, the mist steam. The smile on her beautiful lips made the steam even hotter and it became a spark. It sizzled in the cold world that was his ribcage and came to life. His mouth turned dry, the blood in his veins boiled up.

His angel parted her lips, a silent invitation, and Bucky couldn't hold himself back.

He brought her face to his and brushed her lips with his. The spark became a flame, burning its way in every inch of the frozen land that was his heart. She slid her hands through his hair and kissed him harder, almost in a desperate way. The flame exploded into a strong, powerful fire, and he lost control.

He wrapped his arms around his angel's waist and rolled on his back to lay her on his chest. She never stopped the kiss, didn't even pull back. They tangled their legs as a blaze was melting the ice in Bucky. He panted against her lips when all the layers turned into water, and all the water evaporated into a hot, burning steam. Everything catched on fire and he wasn't crippled by his ice prison anymore. The kiss went on, and on, and on, until they couln't breathe anymore.

They broke their embrace to catch their breath. He rested his forehead against hers, finally aware of how hot he had gotten inside. How hot she made him. The flames had licked away every last drop of water, leaving nothing but heat. Her heat.

His trembling hands caressed their way up her back until he cupped her face and brushed another kiss on her perfect lips. She was flushed, barely breathing, as shaking as him, and she was even more perfect than she usually was. Was it even possible?

He gently rolled on his side to lay her down on the blanket again. She snuggled into his chest, her nose buried in the crook of his neck, and they stargazed again. They shared a tender kiss every now and then, their bodies so close they almost look like one. Bucky felt his heart, finally free, hammer against his ribs at each kiss. He had reached his angel's Heaven.

When the sun roze up from its nap a few hours later, they were waking up from a night on the ground.

Bucky looked at the sun as it caressed the hill with its rays and reached for the moon, skimming lovingly her craters. He contemplated the two lovers of the sky being finally reunited as he and his angel had just found eachother's lover of the earth.

He almost feared God would take away from him His angel, claiming her back, but she kissed his temple and he cuddled her closer to him, his heart finally beating freely next to hers. He had his angel, all to himself, and she wasn't going back to Heaven, as she had created her own paradise between Bucky and her.

And among all the angels, she was his.

The only one able to melt winter away.

☆☆★☆☆

Thank you so much for reading this! I hope with all my heart that you enjoyed it.

If you like my writing, you can take a look at my Wattpad account, "WinterBarnes13", but my works there are mostly in French. I only have one Fanfic in English, it's short and was written two years ago.

Lots of love!

- Vee

#bucky #james barnes #fanfic #bucky barnes #marvel #winter soldier #james bucky barnes #oneshot #fluff #romance #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #the falcon and the winter soldier #cute fluff

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manestjerne · 1 month

Text

The book of regrets part two

Summary: After you reach a dead end in Latvia, Bucky offers you to stay at his place for the night, but things take the wrong turn.

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: angst, swearing, crying, PTSD, lying, fear of cats (lmao)

A/N: It's going to an end soon, so don't worry, I'll try to wrap it up.

If you have any ideas for MCU one shots, not only about Bucky, feel free to hmu, I have some free time now and I'd use some inspiration, since my first one came out not that bad.

I suggest part one first.

masterlist

I was sitting on the couch next to Sam when I started going through my bag. Zemo was already waiting for us inside. Maybe he wasn’t fond of how we wanted to deal with the Flag Smashers, but he wouldn’t leave them alone, so for sure he wanted to cooperate for now, waiting for the moment to step in. But we wouldn’t let him, already agreed on that on our way home. Bucky was standing behind the counter, pouring himself a glass of whisky while looking at me closely, I was surprised he didn’t spill a drop, not paying any attention to the bottle.

„You ever considered that you might have an alcohol problem?” He rolled his eyes in response. „Alright, so what’s the plan now? We lost them, Capshit America is probably looking for us right now, and well…”

I didn’t finish the sentence, looking at Bucky and he only nodded at me, understanding what I was talking about. I finally found what I was looking for, taking a bottle of nail polish out from my bag and setting it on a table carelessly, before taking a closer look at the chipped polish on my nails. I saw their confused faces, but totally ignored it, opening the bottle.

„I asked you a question, morons.”

„I guess we’ll wait for now. There’s nothing else to do.”

Bucky said with a shrug of his shoulder, emptying the glass in two gulps.

„You’re a little crazy, you know that?”

Sam was looking at me closely and I laughed at his words.

„There’s nothing better to do, if we have to wait for now.”

I wanted to say something more, but got quiet as I heard the wind drafting through the apartment. I knew what it meant, and I wasn’t wrong, two silhouettes with spheres appeared in the room not long after.

„Your time is up.”

Ayo said it clearly and calmly. I wasn’t going to argue with her, still believed that Zemo wasn’t so necessary. He deserved whatever they were planning on doing with him next. I didn’t raise my gaze, fully focused on my nails, when I heard the loud footsteps in the hall. Now more intrigued I looked up to see John entering the room. I rolled my eyes with a loud sigh.

„Were you following us? That’s kinda creepy, stalker.”

John looked around slowly, not sure what’s happening, but he made a big mistake at the beginning. Walking up to Ayo, really closely, he chose to introduce himself, it wasn’t a surprise that she didn’t reply, turning to Bucky they exchanged a few sentences in a language I didn’t understand.

„John, take your little friend and leave, you don’t want to get involved in this.”

They both chuckled at my words, not even looking at me, but the next thing he did, could kill him. He put a hand on Ayo’s shoulder, trying to convince her to talk. Big mistake. He was taken to the ground within seconds. I didn’t flinch, knowing it was coming, Bucky’s jaw clenched again when he was looking at the fight scene happening in front of us. Suddenly Battlestar flew over the coffee table I was sitting at, knocking over my polish bottle and landing at my feet.

„I warned you.”

He looked at me disgusted, before getting up and trying to help John, but they were obviously loosing.

„Bucky…”

Sam stared slowly before they joined in. I finished painting the last nail and took a closer look at what’s happening, when Ayo unattached Bucky’s arm, it felt on the ground with a blank clank. He looked even more surprised than us. Dora Milaje used their chance to immobilize both John and his friend, leaving them panting on the ground. Ayo took a look at the room, I realized someone’s missing.

„He’s gone.”

It was the only thing she said before they left. The room got quiet again, the exhausted breathing was the only sound filling it up. I got up and walked to Bucky, as he attached his arm back on.

„You good?”

I wanted to say more, I wanted to help him, but I didn’t know what to say, the whole situation was so unexpected.

„Perfect.” He gave me an annoyed look with these words. „Guess we should go now, there’s nothing else for us to do here if Zemo’s gone.”

I didn’t ask any questions, knowing the situation is not fully handled yet, I decided to just follow them, wherever they were going.

„Let me take that, your nails aren’t fully dry yet, huh?”

Sam chuckled as I bent down to pick up my bag and I didn’t’t resist. He was laughing, but it wasn’t honest, there was nothing to laugh about. I took a last look at John kneeling on the floor.

„Do you need any help?”

My question made Bucky and Sam turn my way instantly, I could hear their breathing now.

„I’m gonna destroy you. All of you.”

„Well, alright.” I turned my back to him and followed the guys to the exit.

„Okay, so where exactly are we going? Not that I don’t trust you, but you’re traveling a lot lately.”

Sam smirked at my question, the travel was indeed pretty long. Now we were sitting in a car and I guess we’re pretty close to our destination.

„Home. We’ll catch up when we know anything.”

„Oh.”

My murmur probably sounded pretty disappointed as they both looked at me surprised.

„What? You’re going to miss us?”

He teased, but I realized I wasn’t supposed to go home, I told Tony that I’m staying at Nat’s for a whole weekend.

„No, just…” I didn’t know what to say, I furrowed my brows „Just guess I’d have to stay at Nat’s. Tony won’t believe we got in a fight or something.”

I knew what I just said sounded a little weird for them, but they must’ve figured it out.

„You didn’t tell Tony where you’re going?”

Bucky asked a little worried, he turned his face to look at me again.

„Yeah, not really, I didn’t have time for that.”

I shrugged my shoulders when he raised an eyebrow.

„He’s gonna kill me if he knows.”

„Yeah, but he won’t know, I just can’t come home ’till the end of the weekened and you’ll be fine.”

I rolled my eyes, he was so damn annoying just staring at me.

„He doesn’t hate you, Bucky. He forgave you. A long time ago.”

Now both of his eyebrows were raised, the wrinkles on his forehead more visible than usual. He wasn’t expecting that, but his expression changed quickly. He turned back, not looking at me.

„You can stay at my place, we can get some more info about the little rebellions and try to track them.”

I raised my eyebrow, not sure if he’s joking.

„Yeah, not such a bad idea.”

I was waiting for his reaction, for a laugh or something, but nothing like that happened, he wasn’t joking. After a few moment of silence Sam bursted out laughing.

„Man, you two are so weird.”

He shook his head slowly.

„Sheets in the bedroom are clean, take the bed and I’ll stay on the couch. Towels are in the drawer under the sink, I don’t have any fancy body washes and you’ll have to stick with a regular shampoo, no conditioner.”

He was saying casually while unlocking the door. I was still processing what I was doing there, just listened closely as he continued.

„The fridge is empty, but I have to go to the bar for a moment, so I’ll step in a supermarket, any special wishes?”

„You have to go to-„

I started confused, but when he opened the door a little silhouette slipped between my ankles. I took a few steps back, looking as he kneeled and picked up the snowy white cat, putting it on his shoulder before entering and turning on some lights in the hall.

„That’s Alpine.”

He tossed his keys on the little table before taking off his shoes. „That’s why I have to go, when I’m away my neighbor comes here to take care of her, I need to tell him that I’m back. Are you coming in?”

He looked at me confused, scratching the cat behind her ears as she stretched lazily in his arms.

„I didn’t know you have a cat.”

I said walking inside slowly and closing the door behind me. I bent down to take my shoes off as Alpine jumped off his hands and came closer, sniffing me carefully before rubbing her head along my calfs. I froze, too scared to take a step forward. I never told anybody I’m afraid of cats, that’s not healthy. I knew how lovely the little creatures could be, but their teeth and sharp claws always made me feel uneasy. Bucky started laughing at me, before picking her up and walking towards the kitchen, filling her bowl with food as she meowed hungrily.

„Are you scared of cats? You have to be fucking kidding me.”

„You have a cat? You have to be fucking kidding me.”

He rolled his eyes in amusement, watching as she crunched on her dinner purring softly.

„Look how adorable she is.”

I couldn’t help but smile to myself. He looked so innocent just standing there, adoring it. Just genially happy about having someone. Something.

„Okay, I’ll be back in like half an hour.”

He said after we watched Alpine devour her meal in silence.

„I’m coming with you, I’m not staying here alone with her.”

He shrugged his shoulders and left me without an answer, picking up his keys and heading towards the door.

„Bucky, wait!”

I struggled with putting my shoes on, really not wanting to stay here without him. He leaned on the door and watched me with an amused grin.

„It would be easier if you untied the laces, you know that?”

„Oh fuck off.”

I groaned when he held the door open for me.

„That’s funny, you know?”

I started with a grin.

„What now?”

„Hi James.”

A cute girl polishing glasses behind the bar smiled softly at him.

„Hi.”

He replied with a smile before lowering his gaze and leaning on the countertop on his forearms. His smile faded as looked at me, I was absolutely amused by their short, yet cute interaction. He rolled his eyes taking a sip of his drink. He only wanted to come in the bar for a second, but when Yori offered us to keep him company, I was more than glad to agree.

„You act so tough, not caring about anyone, and then you come back to your little kitty and snuggle with her on the couch.”

„He’s not as heartless as you think.” I turned my gaze as he spoke, as amused as I was „He just can’t keep a woman close, but I know deep inside he’s just a little shy.”

He grinned, looking meaningfully at the dark haired girl, before looking at me again. She was still looking at Bucky with a little, cute smile on her lips.

„No way, you went out with her! You didn’t call? Oh you asshole, she’s so cute.”

I whispered, trying not to look at her.

„Right?” Yori chuckled softly at my reaction.

„Okay, you two have to stop immediately.”

Bucky was absolutely loosing his shit now, sitting between us.

„Maybe you’ll have more luck…”

Yori winked at me, which caused me and Bucky to mumble indistinctly.

„Oh no, no.”

„We’re just friends.”

„Not even friends, we just know each other for a long time.”

„Sure.” He smiled politely at our reaction.

I got quiet at his words, picking up my glass and staring at the liquor inside before taking a sip. The silence between us got pretty pleasant after a moment, but I still didn’t like it.

„Are you gay?”

I asked out of nowhere, amused smile formed on my lips at his reaction.

„Alright, that’s enough for you.”

He took my glass and drank whatever was left in it.

„You’re just so close with the guys, you know. You have so many friends, but I’ve never seen you getting into a closer relationship with a woman.”

„Steve never told you about my youth?”

He raised his eyebrows and I furrowed mine in response, remembering what Steve told me. He was good at that, and it made his friend jealous, all the time. I thought about it for a moment.

„Okay, my bad, guess the war changed you. Can I get one more?”

I waved at the girl behind the bar and she smiled politely before pouring me a drink.

„It’s not about the war, trust me.”

His smile was surprisingly polite as for the topic. I knew it wasn’t about the war, just didn’t want to make him talk about it. I raised an eyebrow at his answer.

„Okay kids, I should get going, it’s pretty late for such an old man.”

Yori yawned lazily before getting up.

„Oh, I believe you’re not the oldest one here.”

I smiled an he patted my shoulder lightly, then winked at Bucky. I shook my head slowly, when he greeted us once again and left.

„Everything’s closed now, guess we’re not having dinner tonight.”

He wasn’t looking at me, I couldn’t tell if he was blaming me, or just stating the facts.

„Whatever..” I mumbled finishing my drink, the bar was getting less crowded every minute. „Let’s just go if you’re so impatient.”

He rolled his eyes before getting up and reached his hand in my direction to help me off the stool. I was much shorter than him, which meant my legs were swinging in the air all the time, not reaching to the ground. I ignored his gesture and smoothly jumped off my seat.

I walked out of the shower and went straight to his bedroom. I didn’t argue with him about him taking the couch. I remembered how Steve had trouble sleeping in the bed when he first came out of ice, I guessed it was the same thing here, so there was no need to quarrel. I was squeezing my hair with the towel and pushed the door open slowly, when I saw Alpine sitting on the bed, licking her paw, not even looking at me. I turned back immediately, walking into the living room again.

„Take your cat from the bed, I’m not sleeping with her.”

He smiled at my reaction.

„She’ll come here in a minute, but it’s basically her bed, so you can’t just throw her out. Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

He looked worried, but I believed it was just my mind, he didn’t really care.

„I’m fine.”

I turned my back to him, ready to walk away and scare the cat off myself, when he spoke up again.

„It was easy to get you to sleep here, you should be more careful.”

I faced him absolutely confused, I had no idea what he meant.

„First of all, you’re not a stranger.” I paused for a second, wondering why the hell was he smiling. „And secondly, you asked me to come here only to protect your own ass, you know Tony can’t stay mad at me for too long, but it’s different when it comes to you.”

I walked in the bedroom annoyed by that weird interaction and started to push the cat gently off the bed.

„Shush, go! Come on, leave!”

I whispered, making sure he couldn’t hear me from the other room. Alpine gave me a grumpy meow before jumping off and leaving the room through the slightly opened door. I rolled my eyes and went under the covers, throwing my towel on a chair nearby. I sighed loudly and rolled on my back, not tired enough to fall asleep, but not so wide awake do to anything else. I looked around the room, it was decorated nicely. The plants on the window sill, matching perfectly the candles between them. A small desk, covered in neatly organized notes. I took a closer look, these weren’t notes. I stood up from the bed and walked to the desk, sitting on the chair and closing my eyes when it squeaked, hoping it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear. I took the papers in my hands. These were drawings. Bucky had a cat, and used his free time to draw. Surprisingly, they were good drawings. I looked through them making sure to not be too loud, when my phone ringing under the pillow made me jumped in my seat. I dropped the drawings and rushed to pick it up.

„Nat?”

I whispered confused.

„You okay? You didn’t answer any of my texts today, girl don’t do that again.”

She sighed relieved.

„Oh yeah, sorry, busy day. I’m staying at Bucky’s place tonight, I’m alright.”

„Why didn’t you just came here?”

She asked offended and I laughed at her reaction.

„We still haven’t figured it all out, don’t worry Nat, I’m really fine.”

„If you say so.” She sighed again „Just don’t ghost me anymore, or I’ll have to tell Tony where you are.”

„Oh sure, like you’d do that.” I laughed, but I was actually glad she was so worried about me. „Goodnight, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

„Night, love you.”

„Love you more.”

I replied before hanging up and putting the phone back under my pillow. I pulled the covers up to my chin and closed my eyes, now feeling pretty tired.

„Who were you talking to?”

Bucky yelled from the other room, but I didn’t reply him, just rolled over and tried to fall asleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night, struggling with catching a breath. I reached to the lamp gently and turned it on, when I realized it’s just Alpine, sleeping on my chest.

„You have to be fucking kidding me, you little demon.”

I hissed and tried to push her off, but she just purred in response. I froze for a second not sure what to do, so I raised my hand slowly and petted her head. She rolled on her back, now looking at me. She was actually pretty cute, her bright eyes reflecting the soft light from the corner of the room.

„Okay, let’s go.”

I looked at the clock, it was almost 3am. I tired to get up and not piss her off, but suddenly she stood up and looked through the half-open door. She jumped off the bed without my help, but stopped when she reached the hall, turning my way and meowing loudly.

„Shh…” I hushed at her. „Just go.”

But she didn’t leave, she was just standing there looking at me, and it freaked me out.

„Okay, I’ll get myself a glass of water if you insist so much.” I got up lazily „I thought cats aren’t afraid of the dark.”

I stopped for a second, realizing I’m talking to a damn cat. I shook my head and followed her to the kitchen, she gave me one last look before snuggling into Bucky’s side. I poured myself a glass of water, thankful that he sleeps with a light on and I didn’t’t have to walk here in complete darkness. I took a few steps closer to him. I was right, he slept on the floor, but it wasn’t’t anything unexpected. I took a closer look at them, thinking he looks so calm when asleep, but then I realized how hard his fists were clenching. Alpine wasn’t sleeping, just looking at him closely like me. His jaw clenched and he rolled to the side. I took one more step to make sure I’m seeing this right, he just had a nightmare. I was thinking about waking him up, but didn’t want to disturb him. Then I thought again. If I had a nightmare, I’d want someone to wake me up. I kneeled besides him and put my hand on his shoulder gently.

„Hey, Buck.” I whispered „Bucky it’s fine, wake up.”

He sat up rapidly and pushed me away with one, strong swing. I lost my balance, putting my arms behind my back to ground myself when he opened his eyes, absolutely terrified, for a second I thought I saw tears in his eyes. I wasn’t expecting that, backed away a little when he started looking around the room.

„Hey.” I snapped him back to reality „What happened?”

His eyes met mine and I felt a sting in my heart looking at his impression, he was absolutely lost and frightened. I thought it was just a bad dream, but now I knew it’s worse than that.

„Did I hurt you?”

His breath was heavy, his eyes wandering around my body as I was sitting on the floor, pretty close to him.

„No, I’m fine. I’m okay Bucky. What’s wrong?”

He ran his fingers through his hair before answering. I moved a little closer, not wanting to scare him, but trying to reassure him that it’s fine at the same time.

„Nightmares.”

He mumbled and I jerked my head to the side.

„About HYDRA, huh?”

„I can’t really get rid of them.” He shrugged his shoulders and I stood up to turn on another light, so I could actually see his face while talking. The little lamp wasn’t enough for me to figure out his whole impression. This time I sat down even closer to him, pulled a corner of his blanket to slip it under my thighs.

„Bucky, it’s over. You’re fine and you’re safe. You’re alive, that’s what matters.”

I wanted to comfort him so badly, but I had no idea how.

„Yeah, if you call that living.”

I sighed loudly at his answer.

„Does anything help you with these nightmares?”

„Not really, they just come and go.” He stopped for a second to think about it. „But there are things that make it worse, I think it’s because of what happened in Madripoor.”

My eyes widened at his answer, visiting Madripoor as an Avenger, with Zemo by your side, couldn’t be a good idea.

„Okay, get up. That’s gonna be a long talk. DoorDash?”

I got up from the floor and made my way to the kitchen, taking a bottle of whisky and two glasses from the cabinet.

„You should just go to sleep, I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t move from the floor, taken aback by my reaction, but I just rolled my eyes.

“I’m fine. Are there any pizza places opened nearby?”

“I guess.”

He shrugged as an answer. I walked back to him and sat on the couch, placing the glasses on the coffee table and filling them up.

“What happened in Madripoor?”

I asked without waiting for him to join me on the couch.

“We had to talk to Selby, but you know, people there aren’t quite fond of us, so basically me and Sam had to play some dress up.”

“Oh fuck. Let me guess, if Zemo was the one who came up with this, you were the winter soldier, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, finally getting up from the floor.

He wanted to say something else, but when he grabbed his phone I let him have the space he needed at the moment. I used that minute of silence to examine his presence.

He looked tired, but that was not surprising. He looked depressed and crushed, but that also wasn’t anything new. The thing that surprised me, was the T-shirt he was wearing. Since he freed himself from his past, he used to always wear long sleeves, gloves when he was going out. Steve used to scowl about it all the time. He would do anything to not look at the metal arm, the constant reminder of who he used to be. I was surprised by how casual he was about it now.

“But I guess what I did there was pretty useless. She’s dead and the serum is gone.” He threw his phone on the couch. “Our pizza should be here in about half an hour.”

My eyes widened even more as he nearly put these two things in one sentence.

“Selby is dead? You killed her?”

“No, of course not. Sharon did.”

The shrug of his shoulders made me want to punch him in the face.

“What the fuck Bucky?” I shook my head trying to clear my mind for a second. “I don’t like her.”

I mumbled quietly, trying to focus on what we were really supposed to be talking about.

“She basically saved us.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I rolled my eyes.

“Is that because you were always jealous of her? Is it about Steve?”

A smile started forming on his lips as he spoke.

“Okay, you’re the one who always avoid talking about him, so don’t do this now or I’ll wipe that smile right of your face.” I said angrily, but my impression softened when the room was filled with silence again. “I play the piano, you know? That’s pathetic.”

Great way to continue a conversation, good job.

“What?” He gave me a weak laugh, probably not expecting to hear something like that. “It’s not pathetic, maybe not useful either, but still a nice skill to have.”

“I saw your drawings.” I said and bit my lip. He raised an eyebrow but then must’ve realised he left them in a visible place.

“These are not mine.”

He said carelessly, trying to fool me.

“You wouldn’t keep them if anyone else made them.”

“I’m more sentimental than you think.”

My eyes followed his finger pointing at a small, decorative bowl on the coffee table. I reached inside and went through all the stuff in it, when my fingers met a familiar shape. I pulled my bracelet out slowly and took a closer look. I gave it to him the last time I saw him, together with a note, which surprisingly was resting at the bottom of the bowl too. I took out the crumpled piece of paper and cringed as I read it.

He was messed up pretty bad after the fight with Tony. I made sure everyone was safe before leaving. As I checked his pulse, I gently put it in his pocket, making sure he knows I don’t regret anything, I don’t blame him. The bracelet was made out of amethyst, I got it from my mother as an amulet, it was supposed to just keep me safe. When she passed away I put all my beliefs in that little piece of jewelry, but at that moment I believed he needed it more, I made sure to put that in the note too.

“I don’t believe in this whole crystal bullshit.” He started slowly when I was still scanning the evidence of him trusting me the whole time. “But I keep it in my pocket whenever I leave.”

“Okay, but don’t try to change the topic, I know these drawings are yours.”

I finally looked at him. I didn’t know what to say about the stuff he kept. I guess I never thought he would do that.

“Sketches, not drawings.”

“I like them.” I smiled as he finally admitted he made them. “Okay, moving on to the part when you said you’re not living. You’re not just existing Bucky, that’s much more.”

He filled our now empty glasses with a loud sigh.

“So you never regretted what you did? For Steve? I mean, for me basically.”

“Stop avoiding this topic!” I pouted my lip in frustration. “I don’t regret anything, I helped you get your life back, for gods sake!”

“And what kind of life is it, y/n?” He groaned, almost as annoyed as me.

“You’re fucking alive, Bucky. That’s what should matter to you as much as it matter to me. You have your mind back. After all these years you’re free, isn’t it enough?”

I started panicking, nearly stuttering when I was saying that. I couldn’t understand why he can’t appreciate anything he has now.

“I’m not free. Not at all, everything reminds me of my past. Everything and everyone.” He clenched his metal fist tighter, like he suddenly remembered it’s still there. “I still have to redeem. I’ve hurt so many people, it’s not like I can just forget about it.”

“You were hurt! Why can’t you think about that for once? You were the one suffering for so many years, stripped of your dignity and basically brainwashed. Can you think about yourself for a moment?” I looked him in the eyes as they were getting more glossy with my every word. “Please Bucky, just focus on yourself for once, you deserve it.”

When he finally opened his mouth, the doorbell rang and I could see how relieved he was before getting up. The unbearable silence was disturbed by his footsteps and continued when he came back and tossed the box on the table. I didn’t reach for a slice, even though I was starving. I needed his reply first, knowing I won’t be able to swallow anything now.

„It’s not that easy.”

I let out an annoyed sigh. Is that really all he can say?

„Was she suffering much?”

He looked puzzled for a second, but caught up pretty easily. I was asking about my mother. I put the bracelet back in the bowl, when I realized I still have it in my hand.

„It was quick.”

He shook his head slowly not looking at me.

„Was that the deal? Or was she just in the wrong place?”

„There were supposed to be no witnesses. She wasn’t my target.”

„She died thinking I wasn’t safe.” I felt tears in my eyes, I knew I shouldn’t say that, I was supposed to comfort him. But the memories of my past sinked deeper as I thought about it. „I think she knew I'll be fine at some point, that she put all her trust in Tony. I just hope she knows I’m alright now.”

I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand and shrugged my shoulders. I reached for a slice of pizza and left the box open.

„What did he do?” He asked calmly while leaning in to grab a slice himself. „Your father.”

„Well, that’s a long story, not for today. But we have our reasons to care more about mom.”

He nodded slowly, I appreciated he didn’t push. Alpine settled comfortably between my legs and I decided to give it a try, putting my hand on her head and petting her lightly. She purred in response.

„You deserve a rest Bucky, from your thoughts. You’re not just existing, you can live a life now, just as Steve did.” I paused for a moment, watching his reaction and wishing it wasn’t too much. „I know how it feels, when you think nobody trusts you, but-„

„But he left.” He cut me off, but I let him speak, waiting for him to open up. „Isn’t that a sign of mistrust? You saw what happened there, what Ayo did. They don't trust me, because I don’t deserve it. I don’t know how do you want me to live a life now, when I can’t even trust my own mind.”

„I trust you.” My answer was quick and careless, but absolutely honest. „I came when you called, I stayed here for the night. I trust you. Sam trusts you too. All the Avengers trust you, Buck. Steve left because of Peggy, not to run from you.”

After I got quiet, the room was filled with silence once more. I was impatiently waiting for his answer, caught myself stroking Alpine’s head as I had to do something with my hands. I smiled at her as she stretched and rolled on her back, letting me pet her belly.

„There’s no reason to not trust you. Your past doesn’t define you, it wasn’t you. We all know that. Just try to accept that.”

„Sam wanted us to come over.” I rolled my eyes as he changed the subject. „Do you maybe want to go see him tomorrow? His sister really does need help.”

My eyes brightened as I realized what’s on his mind. He was just trying to do what I’ve said, believe that people trust him. He wanted to spend more time out of his apartment and chose me to accompany him.

„Sure.”

I woke up pretty much more tired than I was while falling asleep. Our talk was pretty time consuming, but we had to get up in addition to go see Sam. I burried my face in a pillow before getting up and lazily dragging my feet to the kitchen, hoping coffee would help me survive the day. How surprised I was, when I saw Bucky already sitting on the couch, dressed and showered, with coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He didn’t look at me, but I still tugged on the hem of my shirt, now embarrassed that I just got up and didn’t even change from my pyjama.

„Coffee in the pot is still hot if you want some.” He said turning a page. „You should get ready, I’m not driving at night, it’s your fault you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

I raised my eyebrow and poured myself a cup before turning back his way.

„Are you reading a newspaper? What are you, like 80? Oh, wait…”

I furrowed my brows with amusement when he finally looked at me.

„We’re not ever going to talk about what happened, are we?”

I asked walking back towards his bedroom to get ready.

„No.”

His calm answer followed me all the way down the hall.

18 notes · View notes

clacefe · 2 years

Text

Lifeline

Helmut Zemo x gn!reader

Summary: Your husband comforts you after a terrible experience.

Warnings: Descriptions of sexual assault, hurt & comfort.

(This happened to me a couple of months ago, and I didn't have a Zemo to comfort me. Please, if you have any troubles regarding SA, my messages are open.)

You did your best to hold in your hiccups as you walked back to your shared apartment. Your form was trembling slightly as you clutched your handbag closer to you; a form of security, perhaps even comfort.

With every look a random man on the street gave you as you passed them, you immediately turned your head and started walking a bit faster. Once your apartment building got into view, you almost ran to the front door.

You spammed the lift button, praying it’d come sooner than usual. The doors opened smoothly with a ding, and you dove in, immediately pressing the button of the uppermost floor.

Your breathing started to pick up again, the metal box appearing smaller and smaller with each inhale. The doors couldn’t have opened soon enough, and your hands shook as you tried to find your keys.

Your legs gave out on you, and you slid down the wall, gasping for breath. Your eyes caught the glint of the doorbell, and praying that Helmut was already home, you rang it. Again. And Again.

You were about to push it for the fourth time, until your husband opened the door, mumbling about the impoliteness of the person ringing the bell.

But then he saw you, eyes red-rimmed and body shaking. He immediately crouched next to you and started talking. You saw his mouth move but couldn’t understand what he was saying. It felt like you were underwater, drowning, unable to hear, unable to breathe with just the burn in your lungs accompanying you.

“Helmut,” his name escaped your mouth with a whimper, it being the only thing you’re able to say.

The moment that he picked you up from the floor, you looped your arms around his neck, burying your head there as well.

He sat down on the couch with you in his lap. Being in his arms made your breathing even out a bit. Like the water was being pulled out of your lungs, and you could finally breathe again.

“Mīla, what happened?” his voice was dripping with concern.

You closed your eyes tightly, the pit in your stomach deepening as you recalled what happened.

“I- I was on the metro, like usual, you know? Of course with me being stupid, I took it during rush hour. And well, it, uh, it was packed. The- the man behind me–” you had to stop, screwing your eyes shut and burying your head once again in Helmut’s neck.

His grip tightened on you, and after inhaling deeply, he asked, “What did he do, mīlulis?”

“He- he started grinding his… his–” You burst out in tears again, clinging to your husband as if he was your lifeline.

Zemo didn’t need to hear anything more, he understood what happened, and he was murderous. But the killing could happen at a later date, right now he had a wife to take care of.

He put his finger under your chin and tilted your head to meet his gaze. The tears swimming in your eyes made him want to hide you away from this cruel world.

“Oh, mīla, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. But I’m here now. How about I run you a bath?”

You nodded silently, wanting that disgusting man’s touch off of your body.

You held his hand tightly as he led you to the lavish bathroom in the penthouse. He set you down on a stool near the bath and opened the faucet, letting hot water rush down.

Then he turned to you and gently started to undress you, opening the buttons of your blouse one by one and letting it slide down your shoulders. Once you were fully rid of clothing, he took your hand and helped you sit down in the bath.

He started with your favourite soap first, the smell soothing you as well as his touch. Then he used the shampoo, and in no time you were towelled down and ushered into the softest pair of pyjamas you owned.

You two lay down on the king-sized bed, the sheets rustling beneath you. For a moment, there was only silence. Just the two of you, and nothing else.

“It’s all my fault,” you whispered your voice hoarse, “if I’d just stayed half an hour extra at work…”

Helmut climbed on top of you and cupped your cheeks, “Hey, this isn’t your fault, you understand?”

You looked at him, still unconvinced.

He kissed your forehead. “You’re strong.”

Then your cheek. “And brave.”

He started trailing kisses all over your body, whispering encouraging things after each one.

And by the end of the night, as you lay naked next to your husband, you couldn’t help but feel that he was right after all of his loving touches.

#helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x you #zemo x y/n #zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo imagine #baron zemo #oneshot #comfort #hurt/comfort #marvel #marvel mcu #tfatws #falcon and the winter soldier

321 notes · View notes

visionsofmagic · 2 years

Text

⎯ SO BRAVE [M]

[masterlist]

▸pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

▸ summary: after your last mission together, bucky’s jealousy rise. [as prompt: “You were so brave tonight.”, “About what?”, “About forgetting who you belong to. But don’t worry, I will make you remember.”]

▸wc: 4k+

▸warnings & tags: events take place after endgame and before the falcon and the winter soldier tv series, so, bucky has short hair, he is at his finest. minors dni, mature scenes, jealous!buck, rough sex, choking, oral (m receiving), hair pulling, dirty talk, pet names (doll, love, etc.), possessive attitude (a little), biting, licking, kissing (a lot), explicit language, cursing. Bless you my precious readers, bless you.

reposting because it didn’t appear on tags

“Oh, really?” A fake smiling appearing on, “I didn’t know your life included this much danger Mr. Reyn.”

Man, on the other side of the table, winked. As he wanted one more glass of wine with a hand gesture for both of you from restaurant’s waiter who was standing right beside him all along the night like one of his men. Wine’s red color was matched with your lips, as you took a little glup from it, lips’ redness transferred from yours to glass. Red lips matched with a black mini dress that fitted on your delicate looking body. Even though you had power inside that delicate body, no one, even the man in front of you didn’t think about it at all. Now, you were playing your role of being a doll, searching a good man for your night. In reality, this was another mission for you to accomplish under the name of Avengers. You didn’t see yourself as a part of this team but you were gladly participated on their offers.

This was one of them, third one in this week. Already feeling tired, you tried more to make this man talk, giving you any hint about his crimes. He was a rich guy, really rich one, who gained his money from innocent people. So, you gladly took this mission. Another reason was that Bucky Barnes who you had an odd relationship with was in the mission too. Reyn was one of his previous commander’s relative, in HYDRA. He knew Reyn would recognize him. Therefore, as mission went, you decided to have a date with Reyn at the same time, you as an unexpected lady, and Bucky for discussing about his past as the Winter Soldier. Everyone’s, especially bad guys’, need for a soldier like him wasn’t unusual and Bucky was a man to use this as an advantage for this mission.

“Little one,” What a shitty nickname for you. You wanted to hear it from just one person, not him. “There are so many dangerous things going on,” He leaned closer, touching your chin, gently, not wanting you to scare of him. He was planning you bring to his castle, as he called, so, he had to be gentle. “And you are so delicate for every one of them.”

As you thought how he would be feel it shocking to see your ability of handling nearly 15 men, beating them up, the person who you fell in love with long ago, made his appearance.

Clearing his throat, Bucky made his presence clear for Reyn too. Rich man smirked, making you feel disgust. “Oh, what a pleasure to see the most wanted man’s face, finally.” He stand up, half-hugged to Bucky who was looking with a blank expression to him in return, not moving any muscle. Taking advantage of this little hug, he glared at you, mostly to your smiling face due to knowing his disgust feelings for this man, and your body. His eyes already had dark clouds on them as he saw how dress looked on your body.

Feeling hot under his piercing eyes, you tried to look another way. Wanting him would cause problem. You had to act cool and according to the plan.

Breaking the hug, Reyn pointed to you as he made his way to sit next to you, very very closely. He hugged you from your back with his strong hold. Your shoulder was resting on his chest now. He didn’t even try to introduce you to Bucky because now, you were his doll, as he called, “Don’t mind her. She is just here for fun,” He caressed your cheek with back of his hand, “Ain’t I right, little one?”

You would kick him the face if this was not a mission.

Without saying anything, you just nodded, and thanks to knowing Bucky for some time now, you saw how sparkles of danger appeared on his eyes. For Reyn, he had a blank expression still.

Reyn smirked, “So, Winter Soldier,” Bucky’s body tensed at this name which he wanted to clear from his mind. To make him feel calm and safety environment, you touched his leg with yours. Your naked leg sent his clothed ones positive energy which could be seen with his now more relaxed body posture.

He looked at your closeness with Reyn, then, him.

“I heard so many things about you.” Reyn took a gulp from his drink, “They said how perfect soldier you are.”

Bucky kept his silent stage.

“We will discuss other things later,” Reyn took his hand from your back, placed it on table’s side, leaning forward, “However, I want to ask you something. An offer indeed. The one you will not be able to turn down.” He then made a hand gesture to waiter, to bring something to the table. In the restaurant, there were just a few people, some as couple, some as alone, leaving Reyn enough space to discuss this kind of things.

As waiter went for something, Reyn’s attention once turned to you. His hands placed on your thigh, very close to your upper ones, sending danger from there to your core. If he will touch you more, you will break his neck. You wanted to give this information to Bucky but when you saw his hardened jaw with pure anger, your mind became dizzy. Was he jealous? Or was it just seeing you getting uncomfortable? Maybe both. You wished.

Reyn’s brown eyes, matched with his brown straight hair, came to your sight. “You asked about the dangerous side of my job, right, sweetie?” You nodded as he held your chin in his hand, turning your face to Bucky, “He is one of them.” Ryen smirked, “This man who is in front of you, can be the most dangerous man you can meet with. He is a serial killer. Cold-blooded.” As Reyn’s words understood by Bucky, you saw how hard he wanted to beat this man. His sadness began to spread on his body like venom, making you feel sad too. You didn’t want him to feel sadness. He had so many pains in his entire life. Now, he needed peace. He deserved peace. So, this fucking man, who called him as a serial killer, needed to be stop.

You knew how to stop him about talking speaking; giving him some hints of your fake intentions, playing your role as a doll now.

Bucky was so good to be the target of Reyn’s poisoned words.

Touching Reyn’s face, turning it to you, very closely to yours, you felt sick but this had to be done. “Please,” You tried to act innocent, “I really don’t want to talk about this.” You smirked, “I want to talk about the man who is making my night better.”

Reyn loved praising. Therefore, your praises worked on him, taking his attention from Bucky to yours. He smirked. Then, he kissed your cheek, then, made his trail to down, to your neck. You felt so sick. Wanting him to stop, you acted again, giggling, “There are people Reyn. We should wait.”

His kisses stopped, smirk still on his face, “I can get rid of them if you want.”

“No. I will wait.” You said, then, you stand up, looking Bucky whose every muscle was toughen due to sudden rage. It was scary to see him like this because you knew how he will punish you after the mission. He will tell you how dangerous this was, how this man could hurt you. But it had to be done. You preferred his anger towards you than sadness came from Reyn. You can take his anger, but you can’t endure seeing him being sad. “It was nice to meet with you. Have a nice night.”

With this, you left them, going to bathroom of the restaurant. You had your information, now, it was Bucky’s time to finish his.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯

“Home sweet home!”

Happiness was the first thing you felt after entering your sweet home, Bucky on your side. As you took of your shoes, the comfort of having finished the job filled you. Bucky followed you, taking his shoes of too with his black jacket.

Without waiting any longer, you rushed towards kitchen, grabbing a orange juice to clear your mouth that filled with wine. You wanted to be awake because having Bucky on your house weren’t that often. He had his jobs, you had yours. Loving him was like jumping from a root without any support, to feeling so powerful and free but at the same time having chance to die eventually. You knew he didn’t love you back. He wasn’t ready. However, his liking on you weren’t a secret either.

“Want some?” You pointed orange juice to him, smiling.

He didn’t say anything; instead, he stood still, looking at you with clouded eyes like those he had in restaurant.

You put bottle to fridge again, looking confused, “Is something wrong, Buck?”

He took a step, then three more, then two, ‘till he made your back touches the surface of the long, thin table that separates the kitchen from the living room. Your hands rested on the table, behind your body, as you studied his body and facial expression to understand what was going on.

He rested his hands on the table, beside yours, by trapping your body between himself and the table. You still had the black dress on you, so, his body was so close to yours, radiating his body’s warm.

“You were so brave tonight.”

His deep voice came out from his mouth to your ears, sending vibrates to your core. He was using his dominant side, knowing how this would affect on you.

With sudden lust and desire, you were a little dumb to understand what he referred to.

“About what?”

Question made him smirk, devilish spreading from it. Anger and lust that he held inside his eyes were visible, giving hints of coming events. Events that will penetrate you.

His hand went around your neck, gently but for now. His eyes dared to look your more exposed body, drinking every detail of it like sweet liquor. His eyes then looked at yours, “About forgetting who you belong to.” His hand tightened, making your breath hitch. “But don’t worry,” He said, smiling now. “I will make you remember.”

“Bucky–“ You tried to say, weakness on your voice.

“No, no, doll,” Now, this pet name were sounding like a pray for you. He even wanted sound so good with it due to you being seen as a doll for Ryen. He was making it clear, you were his doll. Not anyone else. “Keep it. You will have whole night to scream with it anyway.”

“I did it for getting his attention from you.”

Bucky nodded, understanding your situation but not giving up with his danger-filled face expression. “I know but this is not help from escaping now, doll. You have to face with your punishment.” His hands left neck for holding your waist now. With a strong pull, bodies were collapsed with each other, making you leave a moan. “Allowing another man to touch you,” His hold tightened, mouth right beside ear, whispering in low tone, making you want him inside already but you knew, you had to accept your punish first. “Kiss you, calling you with pet names,” He bit your ear, hot breaths were burning the skin his mouth stayed, “You deserved a good punishment, don’t you think?”

“Bucky –“ You called his name again as he made his way to your neck, kissing and biting, “Please.”

“Please what, doll?” He licked your neck. A moan escaped from you again. “Use words.”

“Please don’t make me beg, Bucky. You already know it.”

He nodded, “No, I am not.” He looked at you, hands travelling on your body.

You gave up, wanting to be filled by him already, “Fuck me already!”

His deep chuckle was the most angelic and devilish sound you heard in your entire life. “You want me to fuck you?” You nodded. “You want to feel me? Inside.” You nodded again, accepting his teasing, still. “Then, you should gain it doll. Give me something for make me fuck you against the wall.”

He wanted something, and you were going to give him that.

Feeling so confident thanks to your lust, desire and need, you has begin to act for giving him something, something will wake the beast inside him.

The sound of kneecaps hitting the floor hard, with breasts clearly visible from the angle, and eyes staring at him with love and lust at the same time, made the Bucky’s cock even show through his black pants. It was right in front of your face, ready to feel you, fucking your mouth. As Bucky kept his silence, your hands opened his belt and zipper, quickly. Leaving him only with a black tiny boxer, his cock twitched at sudden cold air. You licked your lips, ready to give him pleasure he needed.

Your hands rested each side of his boxer, looking up to his attractive face, innocently as possible, “Please.” You said, weakly again.

His hand touched your chin, caressing it, “Use your words doll. What do you want?”

You gulped, pointing to his now hardened warm cock, “I want to taste it.” You smiled, “I want to feel it in my mouth.” His hand reached to your back hair, pulling it a little.

“Use your words.”

This was last warning for you.

“Please give me your cock, daddy.”

His smirk, and little nod after it, was the last thing your brain could make lucid.

After revealing his thick and hardened cock, you grasped it with your warm and wide open mouth as if it was your last meal. It was so hard to take it all inside your mouth, but you did your best to please him. Mouth covered it from his own sight, hands rested on places mouth couldn’t reach, caressing it up and down in sync with your mouth. His deep moans were already audible to ears, making you work with his cock more. Your mouth left it for a second to lick it from head to toe, twice. His breath hitched at sight and feeling, “Y/n –“ How it made your core twist to hear your name from his lips like that.

With a little more licking, and sucking, you left his dick, looking innocently like you weren’t the one who gave him so much pleasure, “Yes, daddy?”

His eyes darkened more after your question. His hands on your hair held them tightly, pulling your head to his cock, “Keep going.” He smirked, “You will get your reward soon enough.”

You nodded, keeping working with his cock, hungerly as ever. After some time, moaning your name lowly, pulling your hair, he finally left a high-pitched moan. His cream filled all of your mouth. As he pulled your hair again, to make you look up at him, “Swallow it,” he said, “All of it.”

You obeyed at his order; swallowed every bit of it, not wasting.

His hand placed on your cheek, caressing it, “Good girl.” He picked your hands, made you stand up. The black dress looked like a mess on you, breasts exposed, kneecaps already red colored after kneeling down for so long. His eyes studied your messy state, smirking after. “Look at you, a slut for me.” He turned your body, making your face hit the wall, not hard enough to make harm but hard enough to make you moan, “Only me. Not anyone else.”

“Only you, Buck –“

A slap to the ass. Warning you.

“D-daddy!”

His mouth was on your ear once again, chest touching your back, exposed cock resting on above ass. “Tell me who you belong to, doll.” His hand went around your neck, resting it on his strong chest, “Tell me who will fuck you now.”

“You!” You nearly shouted, “You are. I am belonging to you. I am belonging to Bucky Barnes!”

“That’s right. And now, you will take the cock of the person who you belong to, entirely.”

“Yes, please!” You looked at him as he took of his shirt off, leaving him all naked. Seeing him like this made you moan again, earning a smile from him. Even his metal arm was on your sight, making you want feel its coldness on your body.

“How needy.”

Then, without any warm, he took of your dress as well, leaving both of you naked. His body touched yours from behind, hotness that radiating from his built one was your medicine, the only thing on earth that you needed to feel this wonderful.

After removing thin fabric off of your body, every part of him was sensible, leaving marks the places he touched, so closely to make you cum alone.

Skin to skin, breath to breath. Bucky Barnes’ presence was all over you, sending an overwhelming feeling, not wasting any part of your body to remain untouched. Hot breaths right beside your ear and neck, cock now making its way to your core, and two hands, one a metal one with coldness and other with warm, covered you breasts inside their palms. Parts of your body touching the wall in front of you was waking you up, making you realize Bucky Fucking Barnes is going to fuck you against it.

“Doll,” Teeth bit neck, cock placed right between thighs, ready to get in anytime now. “Do not forget, no one can touch you again. No one except me.” Then, he pushed his cock inside your core, a moan escaping from your mouth, ass raised up to feel more, head resting on the hard surface of the wall.

Deep and fast thrusts began to break you into more than two pieces, it was so much. He was so much. “Ahh-“ Moans didn’t stop, and you knew your breasts would hit the wall if he wasn’t holding them like they were keeping him alive.

As his thrusts kept coming, adding more force with each one, he began to lick your neck, hands squeezing hardened nipples, “C’mon love, don’t hold back. I know you can do better than this.”

After hearing ‘love’ nickname, your control over your body came to an end. Now, you were in a state in which your brain lose its function, and left it for your desire. Senseless words were spreading on your mind, and just dirty ones found a way out. “It’s too much! I can’t –“

“Oh, no, no. You can.” Bucky’s hands rested on your waist, holding it so roughly enough to keep you in your place. If he wasn’t holding like that, your delicate body would swing back and forth.

You couldn’t find the words to describe the pleasure of his big and hard cock you felt in your inside and stomach. The hands holding your body strongly, the sound of his cock that getting in and out of your core, the brain-burning feeling of being inside you raw without fully preparing you. You didn’t even feel the need to hold back the groans because you wanted him to understand the pleasure he gave you, you wanted it to give him pleasure too with sounds that you were making. He had a side that worked with actions, with words. Keeping words from him would be useless.

“I want to cum –“ You said, his breaths were mixing with yours, and both of your sweats were coalescing. Leaning your hands against the wall, you lift your hips higher. Looking over your shoulder to him, a wonderful feeling hit your core as you saw how his gazes were looking at your hips and his cock that going in and out of your core. It would be the best thing to bestow upon you to be the reason for the sweat that ran from his temples to his bearded face and from there to meet his strong exposed chest, the harsh but contented expression on his face, and the endless lust that burned him inside. You were so lucky, indeed.

“Buck!” Your moan filled voice caught his attention from your all naked body to face, “I need to cum. Please, I –“

Without saying anything, he turned your body to face him, your back was resting on the wall now. He closed the gap between your bodies, chest to chest. His hands found their way on your waist again that he left red marks on there already due to his rough hold, lifting your body up like your weight was nothing for him. His cock entered in again, with a hard and rough push. You head hit the wall, eyes closed, because of feeling euphoria above him. He then began to lick your breasts, from one to another, not minding hotness your body was holding at all.

His deep and fast thrusts began to break you again, not wasting any time.

Being a super soldier had its perks and being a God in bed was one of them for Bucky, which you always found amusing. He was so good at making you reach euphoria and climax at the same time, making you forget about the world you were in, only focusing on him.

He left your breasts for a moment to say, “Tell me how good I am fucking you doll. Tell me how you want to cum on my cock.”

“I want it so much!” Your hands found their ways on his short hair, pulling some of them due to confidence and roughness you held on your chest. “I want to cum so hard on your cock. You are the best, daddy.” You made him look up, and before began to kiss him like you only could find life on his lips, “Oh, Bucky, you have no idea how good you are fucking me. But if you let me, I can show you.”

“Then, show me, doll. Cum.”

Lips crashed, bodies collapsed, moans escaped, and time stopped.

Now, there were only two person who found peace, passion, lust, and love in each other’s arms, presences. The heavy burden of joy mixed with love emanating from the united bodies of these two lost souls who only felt and heard each other was too great. With bodies that did not stop hitting each other, souls that could felt even though being invisible, connected to each other every time speed of hitting increased.

After this short but enjoyable time that felt like an eternity, a final groan escaped from the pink lips.

As your cum felt from your core to Bucky’s core, his thrusts deepened, fucking you for some more time. Then, he came undone inside your arms too, giving you a last angelic moan escaped from his lips.

His head rested on your chest. His love for you was stronger than lust now. You both knew you would keep all of this ‘till sunlight, but now, heavy emotions took their turn to appear between you two.

Hands caressed his hair, a kiss put on forehead, taking its time a little longer than normal. However, the longer you held each other meant the stronger feelings came to the light. You loved him, he loved you. Even though both of you were afraid to tell certain things about this, your bodies spoke instead your mouths.

He hugged you, taking your sensitive body to shower.

Yours legs were unified behind his waist, head resting on his shoulder, arms crossed together as well. “Bucky –“

He shushed you, “Don’t worry love,” Kissed your hair, “I know.”

You smiled, happily, “Of course.” To distribute emotional air, you chuckled, “If you will going to fuck me like this as a punishment, I will definitely going to break some rules again.”

He looked at your face, an eyebrow raised. With a teasing tone, he said, “You don’t need to do that.” His hand touched your hair, closing the gap of your faces, “From now on, I will fuck you so good, for every day and night, doll.”

Bucky Barnes was a man of his words, keeping his promises ‘till death. Knowing this, you smiled and lips met once more.

love, rose <3

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