#the-omni-princess1kwritingchallenge

[heli0s-writes]

all in the weight (gentle, we fall)

Summary: A stretched night in Wakanda with you, Bucky, and the truth.

A/N: Smut, angst, & soft White Wolf Bucky. 1.8k words.

Written for @the-omni-princess​‘s 1k writing challenge! Congratulations again and thank you so much for hosting!  My prompt was: “The real lover is the man who can thrill you just by touching your head or smiling into your eyes — or just by staring into space.” -Marilyn Monroe

The title is a lyric from Justin Nozuka’s All I Need.

It’s these moments that enchant you the most. When your heart quivers, all pumped full-- one single hair of a stretch away from bursting, blood rushing too hard and fast, chest unwilling to compromise with the swell.

Galvanized by him.

His warm right hand and fingertips. His pulse steadying itself in measured breaths. His pretty, pretty, eyes, staring into some unknown expanse.

It's in these moments-- when he’s suspended, weightless and floating with his back against the bed, lost in the sweet drift of a comedown-- that you meet the truth.

Grey-blue casts over his features, allowing you only slivers of piercing eyelashes, cuts of his cheek’s sharp terrain, that blessed dip in his chin, a reprieve. Haloed in a fleeting corona when the light surfaces again and smatters through the curtain, his long shadow falls on you, touched with quiet. You trace his outline with a finger, igniting the silver streak of his body. It stirs him back to you.

“Yes, lover?”

Lover. What a word.

Bucky smiles, lips still slick with impatient kisses, licked just on this side of red and raw. Hungry again and changing course, curving into the way you reflexively press against him. A roguish, lingering look before he asks,

“What do you want of me?”

Your palm pursues a dip of muscle, marble carved into man, unmade and made again at long last. 

“What will you give me?”

A quick and lambent glance of that tepid ocean as he ponders. Playful tides lap each other in delay, lap your feet and ankles, seafoam mist cool and sweet just like him.

“Everything.”

Tidal waves crash upon his admission. Electricity and salt and moonlight breaking on their crests, moment turning quick and hot. Bucky moves into a better position, rocking the mat beneath as he shifts, one leg hooking over you, forearm skimming down your sternum. The two of you slick in a sheen of sweat, skin gliding over skin.

You laugh, a sharp breath of disbelief sheltering unspoken joy, hand swatting uselessly at his head.

“Can’t help it. Want you to have it all,” hastened breath on your bare shoulder followed by caresses from that noble nose at the incline of your collarbone. Then his strong brow, willow-wisps of hair a little damp at the roots in pursuit for more of you—grazing the gradual slope of your breast, kissing a nipple, then lower to where your very heartbeat springs forward to find him, too.

Protests evaporate like ocean spray.

Your hands are back on him when he gets to your belly. Sultry and kiss-bruised lips on fire as he presses them your waist and hips, and it’s a wonder how he still can.

You quake a little, pre-trembling with anticipation when he maps a roadway down your thigh, following veins and silver lines of a stretched surface. He twists from your hold, pushes your hands away until you’re grasping at the bed.  

He loves it like this most. Your whimpers, his attention. Doting. Slow. Stretched.

It’s been midnight all day, feels like. A perpetual polar night, permissive of a time when eternity lies tucked inside the thin cotton sheet currently gathered over his back, dropping low.

Bucky hums between your knees, bristled jaw agonizing sensitive skin and your toes curl tightly at the thought of his tickling fingertips. A shuddering breath takes flight when you whine. So, he relents and rises, blanket falling away completely and the both of you are open in the dim inky blue—chilled, until he brackets you in with his right arm on the other side of your shoulder.

“If you let me,” Raspy and low, whispered into your ear and your very soul trembles with the hanging promise of his words. “I’ll love you, honey,” a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. “Love you good,” a kiss to your neck where the pulse jumps along, “Love you best.”

A flick of his tongue to the hollow of your collarbones, knee spreading your thighs open. Bucky smiles when he looks at you, “Love you again and again.”

The vibration of his voice tumbles into your ears and down the length of your spine, spinning the weight in your stomach into a typhoon.

Silent permission in the form of your repositioning, facing him fully now, chest to chest on your side, admiring each other with adjusted night vision eyes, kept safe from the world beyond this carapace of his body over yours.

Fingers make their way between your thighs, above his knee, sinking slow and soft into the swollen flesh well-loved many times this morning—afternoon, evening—by him. You’re tender, shuddering, sore. Toeing the edge of breaking completely into pieces.

Soft moans and damp gasps, he works his way into you, fingers first. One, then two, then three because he’s captivated by the way you unravel for him so quickly. Doesn’t even care about himself most times, even though you plead with me, Bucky, come with me. It’s too sweet to simply watch you.

He moves them cleverly-- ring over middle while his pointer gently strokes. Then, they shuffle like tumblers in a lock, spreading and retreating, and your fists clench against his chest, knuckles rapping on his collar.

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, “Feel good, honey?”

You do. Oh, you do, and he knows. He knows everything about you. Your eyes ask again for his length—the feeling of him inside of you. The sacred moment when two yield into one and Bucky dissolves you completely.

“This what you want?” He sighs, moving on top now, pushing himself between your legs, his half-knotted hair falling apart and caging your faces together with their soft strands. You lean your cheek against them, bite your lip just a little at him, keep at bay all the words you really want to say.

Strong and velvet, easily slick with wet from how he’s coaxed you open, he slides in. All the way. All the way and you feel it up to your chest. That swell. That hurt. That consummate loving. Water and blood, and the throb of him rubbing, rubbing, rubbing. His voice, quaking just a little bit, simmering low and then broken, shattered with love.

“God. Baby,” he pleads, “Christ. Fuck. Honey,” the ramblings of a man far gone. Hips rolling this way and that, bucking slow but steady, and hard, too, his pelvis flush against yours with each contact. Your fingertips dig gently to anchor yourself inside his sea, raging hot.

You swallow his voice, his rhythm, let the saltwater sear your lungs, still greedy for more because you need him just the same way—open, taken, devastated, crawled inside your ribcage, nesting within your heartbeat, branded onto your soul.

“Take all of me, lover,” Bucky whispers, “Want you to have it all.”

Lover.

And what a lover he is.

As instantaneous as it arrived, there is submergence. Drowning. Unforgiving tides plunging you into the deep—frantic pockets of what’s left of your breath bubbling overhead and encasing his name. He holds fast one final time, kissing your crumbling mouth, quivering, worrying, lips plump and ripe with overwork—red and receptive and ready. All of you and all of him folding in over each other, dashing yourselves onto the rocks of an undoing so complete you burst apart. And then, Bucky plummets, too, shuddering and wrecked and entirely yours just like he wanted.

-

The long spell of interrupted time strikes some unknown hour. Both of you have purposely lost count of the minutes, yet it still chimes an insolent reminder with every exhale he breathes into the dark. Bucky blinks slowly at the ceiling, tallies the reedy scores of thatch and chews on the skin of his lip.

It’s these moment that hurt the most. When he does nothing but exist unwaveringly on the shoreline edge of your reality and fantasy, blue and unhurried. You, enraptured. Him, endless. There is nothing to do but stare, watching his eyes ebb and flow, adrift in the increasingly tangible tomorrow.

“You said I could have everything,” you lament against his cold left side, against that frigid alien metal, flint grey and threaded with gold. Reinforced and strong like how he feels again with its attachment. You wish you could care for it the way he does, but you know its arrival summons his departure. So there is only righteous spite.

Bucky presses his lips to your shoulder before he tugs the curtain aside, letting the evening dusk pour in with cricket song and briny lake mist. Up now, he sits face turned out toward the field, his bare back lined with the imprint of laid-in sheets, creases tracing cracked webbed patterns of peach flesh.

His silence breaks you anew, heavy chest pulsating with terrors only imagination can conjure about the unknown. Rivers flood wide paths down your cheeks, depositing heavy droplets along your jaw, collecting unsaid sorrows.

“Stay with me,” you cry, “Let me keep you.”

He steers the torrent with that horrible left arm, a poor impostor compared to the phantom space you loved even in absence. Bucky tangles his legs with yours, pulls you halfway into his lap, kisses you until your tears find a new home along the generous line of his mouth. He soothes you with his touch, but his eyes are far away.

And it is here where you suffer the truth.

As you’ve always known about him-- ever since first meeting him in the Golden City where the sunlight turned threads of his burnished chestnut hair amber; ever since touching him, tracing the arteries of his pale right arm up to his shoulder like following a pathway home; ever since loving him, engraving a space for him, recovering him from what he believes of himself—the truth, is this:

You don’t care about what he is made of, what he is made for, or what he will be made to do.

But, you are not Bucky, who wants a place carved on the battlefield because he holds onto the notion of repentance and duty. You are not the King, you are not Steve Rogers. You are not the world that broke him or the world that wants him broken again.

And, you know, as you’ve always known.

You cannot keep him.

 “Bucky,” you follow his gaze out into the field beneath a waning moon’s light, “Come back to me.”

Silver beams outline his face as he turns. Lashes so pretty you could trace them one by one. Cheeks holding onto a few final rosy blooms from when he came apart in your arms. Lips parted, chafed by the most desperate love. Eyes in a gentle fall, downwelling with fatigue and the weight of your trembling heart.

He smiles and the entire world could weep.

He knows. He knows everything.

“I will,” Bucky says, calm and endless and blue like the Pacific itself, “I will.”

-

perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity​ @iwannasail @ya-lyublu-tebya @geeksareunique @wildefire @satanxklaus @jhangelface0523 @wkemeup @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the-omni-princess1kwritingchallenge #bucky x reader #angst #fanfiction #reader insert

[lancsnerd]

Desperate Measures

Summary: When an agent is affected by sex pollen and needs assistance, just how helpful will Thor be?

(This is the porn-with-plot companion fic to my other one-shot Desperate Times. Both can be read as stand-alone stories but can also be read together.)

Pairing: Thor x female reader

Words: 6.7k

Warnings: Smut, more smut (seriously, there’s a lot), bad language, some fluff

A/N: This was written for all those people who wanted to know what happened in the locked room in my other fic Desperate Times - enjoy the filth!

All feedback and comments gratefully received. Masterlist is on my bio header. Also posted on AO3 under ‘Leo_nine’ username.

Prompt: “I’ve wanted this for so long.” Written for the-omni-princess 1k writing challenge

*****

“Let me out of here. It hurts so much, I just wanna be touched.” You desperately banged a fist on the window of the med-bay quarantine room to get someone to take notice.

Not that that was a problem - the sight of your body, sweat-slicked and naked, pressed against the glass ensured that you had the undivided attention of most of the onlookers on the other side. No, the problem was getting them to give you what you needed. All they did was tell you to relax, that you weren’t in control to know what you were saying, that you would be better alone ‘for your own protection’. Idiots.

“Shouldn’t be watching this. Should not be watching this,” Sam muttered guiltily, trying and failing to find something else to focus on as your fingers slid between your legs in search of relief.

Tony’s eyes never wavered. “Speak for yourself, Birdman, I’m just catching up on what I missed during the flight back.”

Behind them, Steve was attempting to ignore the distractions as he discussed options for treatment with Dr Cho. “OK so that’s the last of the blood samples that Bruce needs to work on the antidote. So what do we do with her in the meantime?” Seeing Thor about to speak, Steve pre-empted him. “Yes, you’ve made it perfectly clear what you’d do with her but that’s not gonna happen.”

Helen Cho’s cheeks flushed at the thought, but she managing to keep her composure. “We won’t have a treatment available for a good while yet and this will take hours to leave her system. I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do except make her as comfortable in her own room as possible and let her work through it in private.”

Steve nodded. “The sooner the better. Let’s move her the same way she got her here. She won’t walk so I’ll carry her.”

There was a cacophony of protests. Sam raised his voice to be heard above the objections of the others. “Oh sure, Cap, and get another good groping from the naked, sex-crazed hottie while you do. No way, you don’t get to have all the fun.”

“Fine.” Steve held up his hands in defeat. “So none of us can carry her on our own from now on. What other options do we have? She’s not going to just sit quietly on a gurney to be wheeled down there, anyone who gets close is gonna become her new plaything.”

Thor was still bitter that he’d not been the one to carry you from the jet. “That has never been a problem as far as I’m concerned.”

“Pretending I didn’t hear that,” muttered Helen under her breath. “Could you put her in restraints?”

Hearing the mention of restraints through the glass, you shouted eagerly from your medically-imposed prison. “Yes! Tie me down and fuck me any way you like. Please, I want you to.”

“So that’s one vote in favour of bondage.” The gleeful look on Tony’s face indicated there might actually be two votes. “Any other suggestions?”

*****

In the end, the only solution had been to carry you between them, spreadeagled with the team supporting one limb each. Frustratingly, being man-handled into your bedroom by a team of superhunks sounded a hell of a lot more fun that it actually was. There had been strong hands gripping your body but none of them where you so desperately wanted to be touched, no matter how much you begged and struggled. All attempts to get you dressed, even in underwear, had failed so a sheet had been draped over you, more for their sanity than anything else since there was obviously no point in trying to protect your modesty by now. Wriggling fruitlessly and still pleading for sex, you only caught snippets of the conversations going on around you.

“It isn’t right to leave her alone, she’s asking for help ...”

“... can’t take advantage while she’s under the effects of this Hydra drug.”

“Careful, don’t let her get hold of you. Hold her legs wider apart ...”

“For the love of god, would you stop saying things like that!”

When they’d finally reached your room, you’d tried to beg one last time for someone to stay - for him to stay - but the words had got muddled as another powerful wave of lust had hit. Still, the fact you’d tried to climb Thor like a tree repeatedly and kept having to be dragged off before they could leave should have given them a damn clue.

As they’d managed to lay you down on the bed, still making desperate grabby hands at anybody in reach, Thor’s eyes had met yours and you’d seen the aching desire you felt reflected, his pupils blown wide. For one glorious moment it had seemed like he would ignore the advice and stay with you, but Dr Cho had firmly ushered them out. And then you were trapped - alone, in pain and hornier than you ever thought possible.

And now, many unsatisfying climaxes later, you were slumped on the floor of the shower, cool water raining down and mingling with the tears that streaked your face, hardly caring about the cool droplets as they landed on your burning hot body. It wasn’t worth trying to use your toys any more, and even if you had the energy just the thought of hearing the buzz of a vibrator made your head ache. Your skin felt itchy, too tight, like an exposed nerve and nothing you did was enough to give respite. Nothing existed at that moment except the agonising need for sexual relief.

“... wanna come ... ah it hurts ... need to fuck ... please ...”

You barely noticed the sound of Helen’s voice echoing over the comms. Unable to focus on what she was asking through the haze of pain and lust, you kept on mumbling the words like a mantra. You knew it wouldn’t matter anyway - they’d made it extremely clear that no one was going to help you.

Slowly though, the doctor’s voice started to register until a few sentences caught your attention. “You just need to choose - Steve or Thor? Do you want either of them to join you?”

Oh hell yes. Either would be a wet dream come true but you wanted Thor more than anything, had wanted to get your hands on him for so long. “Yes, ugh yes ... please ... want him so bad .... those muscles ... oh oh god ... huge arms ... wanna lick ‘em ...”

Helen’s comments faded into the background as thoughts of him filled your mind. Thoughts of a slow, sensual dance a few weeks earlier. Huge hands moving over your waist, your back, your hips. Warm breath on your neck, beard prickling your cheek as he held you tantalisingly close. Oh the things you wanted to do to that man. “... looks so fucking good in that blue suit ... wanted to rip it off him ...”

As the memory played out in your head, another bout of desire hit your already-aroused body and the need to be touched overwhelmed everything else. Your eyes closed, losing yourself in your fantasy as your fingers moved lower. “... want his face between my thighs ... those blue eyes looking up at me ... fingers buried, stroking deep. Tangling my fingers in that beautiful blonde hair ... tongue flicking across my clit ... over and over ... oh fuck ... yes yes ... ” Your voice broke into a shuddering breathy moan as you came, pain numbed by the temporary bliss of release.

A question over the comms pulled you out of your post-orgasmic daze and back to reality. “Who are you talking about?”

Concentrate. You tried one more time to explain what you needed, the extra flood of endorphins helping to clear your mind just enough for you to focus. “Want him pressing me into the bed ... inside me, filling me ... fucking me hard ... so hard ... Thor ...”

As you spoke his name, there was a commotion over comms and the sound abruptly clicked off, giving no indication whether your words had got through or not. Letting out a frustrated sob you stumbled to your feet, not bothering to turn the shower off, and staggered from the bathroom in the direction of the door, leaving a trail of damp footprints in your wake. Enough was enough. If they hadn’t got the message by now, you’d find a way to escape this goddamn place.

When you reached the door though, there was the unmistakable thud of heavy footsteps in the corridor outside followed by a growl of “Open it or I’ll break it down” that made your pulse quicken.

As the door slid open you were face to face with a half-naked god. More accurately, because of the height difference you were face to chest with him and the sight of such muscled perfection was almost more than you could bear. The raw animal lust on his face as his gaze travelled over your naked body sent another stab of desire through you and your hands shot forward to grab his belt, dragging him into the room.

The doors had barely swooshed shut again before your bodies moulded together, mouths searching for each other hungrily, exploring every available inch of bare skin in a frantic tangle of limbs. There was nothing tentative about this first kiss, both consumed by the need to fuck and be fucked. The heat radiating from your feverish body as his hands slid over your skin was a reminder to Thor of his other purpose though, and he manoeuvred you towards the sound of running water without ever breaking contact with your lips.

Still dressed from the waist down, he stepped into the shower with you clinging to him. The sudden shock of the cool spray made you both gasp, and he turned you quickly in his arms, holding your struggling body firmly in place so most of the water was flowing down your front. “Ssh, it’s going to be fine. This will help with your fever.”

You were grinding back against him desperately in an attempt to touch him again. “Thor, please ... it hurts so much ... want you so bad.”

“I know, my beauty. I’ll give you everything you need.” He didn’t release you just yet but slid his large hands over your wet skin, cradling your breasts and kneading the soft flesh while his mouth fastened onto your throat, roughly sucking and licking at the delicate skin as if staking his claim. Each brush of his palms against nipples already erect and sensitive from the cold made you tremble. It felt as though every nerve in your body was on fire, his touch better than you’d ever dreamed and yet nowhere near enough.

Increasing the pleasure by pinching and rolling one nipple between finger and thumb, his other hand moved down your stomach and continued lower, following the path of the water between your thighs. He teased the soaked curls with his fingers briefly before one thick digit dipped inside you. Your cries of pleasure at the welcome intrusion were quickly drowned out by his guttural moans that reverberated around the bathroom as he felt your wet heat pulsing around his finger.

“Norns, I've wanted this for so long. Not being able to touch you has been torture.” His erection strained uncomfortably against the restrictive leather of his pants, reminding him that he was badly overdressed. Removing his finger so he could loosen his belt, his hold on you relaxed and you spun to face him eagerly.

The sight that greeted you was beyond anything you’d imagined - water running in rivulets down a broad chest, cascading over the hard, chiselled planes of his abs and impossibly deep V lines. He was sex incarnate, a fantasy made real, and right at this moment he was yours.

With a snarl he released the fastenings of his pants enough to push them down over his thighs and your eyes flicked lower. The God of Thunder wore nothing underneath and your mouth watered at the sight of his cock springing free, long and thick, glistening tip flushed to deep red. Unable to resist, your fingers wrapped around it, squeezing gently, enjoying the weight and velvety smoothness in your palm. He let out a strangled curse as you began slow upward strokes and you needed no further encouragement, pumping him quicker and adding a twist of the wrist that had his hips jerking to push him even further into your grip. By the time you traced a thumb across the head, slick with pre-spend, his breathing was ragged and he had to stop you before he lost his mind.

Gripping your thighs he lifted you off the ground easily, your arms and legs wrapping round him instinctively. You arched against him, heels digging into the small of his back as you began grinding desperately, your over-sensitive clit spasming with each sensation. Gritting his teeth with the strain of holding back as your naked body writhed against him, he quickly rid himself of the remaining clothes and adjusted your position so the swollen tip of his cock brushed across your dripping core.

Despite the desire coursing through his veins, he paused. “I have to hear you say it. Tell me this is what you want.”

You almost sobbed with want. “Yes, oh god, yes. Get your cock inside me now.”

That was all he needed. He swiftly aligned your bodies and pressed into you, burying himself deep in one powerful thrust. Even though you were more than ready for him it was still a stretch to take him fully, and your moans of pleasure at the delicious sting were swallowed as his mouth claimed yours in a commanding kiss. Allowing you to adjust he waited for a few seconds, palms caressing your bottom, then lifted you effortlessly until his cock was almost completely out and let you slide back down. Slowly, so slowly, splitting you open inch by inch on his full length over and over. In your state of heightened arousal, the long, slow drag of him against your walls was enough to send you spiralling over the edge, fingernails clawing at his back as you clenched tightly around his cock.

Thor continued with his steady pace, eyes squeezed shut with the effort of restraining himself, trying to ignore the perfect squeeze of your pussy on his throbbing, leaking cock. The force of your climax made you shudder, legs shaking uncontrollably as your hold round his waist loosened. Feeling your body slip backwards, his eyes flicked open and he gripped you harder, taking a step so your back could rest on the wall. Before he had a chance to check you were alright, you were able to gasp one word. “More.”

It was like flicking a switch, his base instinct taking control. Growling with lust, he hooked his forearms under your knees and braced his hands on the wall, pulling your knees high to spread you wide open. Looking down between your bodies, he pulled his hips back and pushed back in slowly, eyes fixed on the sight of your pussy swallowing his cock so well. Then he took a breath and let loose.

All you could do was hang on round his neck, the breath knocked out of your lungs as he drove up into you relentlessly, slamming into you fast and hard. The coil of pleasure in your belly tightened with each stroke, each plunge of his cock filling you to excess. As your head lolled forwards onto his shoulder you caught a glimpse of his reflection in the bathroom mirror, hips pistoning at an inhuman rate, muscles rippling whilst the water drummed on his back. Never breaking his rhythm, he moved a hand to slide between your bodies, palm rubbing firmly over your clit with each snap of his hips. You moaned his name, clutching tight to his bicep as your orgasm hit without warning. He couldn’t ignore the pulsing of your walls round him this time and with a few more powerful thrusts he came, groaning loudly as he spent deep inside you.

With the pain from the chemicals subdued by the endorphins flooding your system, you were hardly aware of him gently cleaning and drying you off. Pliant and sated, you rested against his broad chest, too blissed out to object when he scooped you up and carried you into the bedroom, snuggled in a fresh fluffy towel. His aim of laying you down on the bed was hampered by the various sex toys littering the tangled sheets though. Adjusting your weight so you were supported by one arm, he swept everything aside dismissively. “These have served their purpose, you will have no more need of them today.”

Once there was space he laid you down carefully, placing his hand on your forehead for a few seconds to check your temperature before straightening up. Already missing his touch, your eyes flickered open and you reached for him worriedly. “No, don’t leave me.”

“Don’t fret. We’re only just getting started.” He moved to avoid your eager grabby hands. “But first you need something to drink.”

Feeling more lucid by the minute, you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him stride across the room in search of water. It was your first chance to properly see him in all his naked glory and you weren’t going to waste the opportunity. Every step he took offered a new area to admire - the width of his back and shoulders, those thick thighs, that insanely round butt just asking to be squeezed - and then he turned to face you. Sweet Jesus, he truly was a god amongst men. When this was over, the manufacturer of the ‘larger than life’ dildo that was currently lying on the floor would be getting a strongly-worded letter of complaint about its inadequate proportions.

The sight was so distracting that you didn’t register at first that he was offering you a glass, an amused look on his face as he watched you ogling him shamelessly. “Oh, um, thanks.” Taking the drink from him to cover your embarrassment, you realised how thirsty you were and guzzled greedily, water spilling from the corners of your mouth in your haste.

This time it was his turn to stare, eyes tracing the path of the liquid as it trickled down your throat and onto your breast. Unable to resist, his finger trailed over your skin to pick up a few stray droplets. “You seem to be feeling better. Are you hungry, pet?”

The slightest of touches, yet it had you lust-drunk, light-headed again with the desire for more. You set the glass aside, slowly and deliberately let the towel fall loose, pleased at the way his gaze was drawn to your nakedness. “Only for you.”

“Already? Then I must try harder to satisfy your appetite.” The mattress dipped as he knelt on the bed in front of you, a wicked grin on his face. “Now, what was it you were asking for over the comms, when you were deciding between Rogers and I? Ah yes, I remember.”

He ran his thumb over your cheek tenderly before his mouth closed over yours, kissing you hungrily. All the while, the weight of his body pressed slowly but insistently forwards until you were lying flat on your back again, breathless and trembling with him on all fours above you. When he pulled out of the kiss he paused for a moment, and the sight of such perfect masculine beauty hovering above you sent a pulse of desire straight to your core.

A few stray tendrils of golden hair hung loose where they had escaped their braid and you brushed the damp strands off his face, hands snaking round his neck to pull him down into another kiss. He evaded your grasp though, shuffling down the bed to settle between your legs, strong hands spreading your legs wide to give him full access as you sighed in anticipation. Starting at one ankle, he left a trail of rough kisses and bites all the way up to the inner thigh, the scratch of his beard and teeth on the soft flesh soon soothed by his tongue laving at each mark. As his mouth reached your core though, he pulled away, ignoring your frustrated whines as he repeated the process on your other leg.

Just as you thought you would combust, he looked up at you from between your thighs, the blue of his eyes barely visible round the blown pupils. Giving you a wink, he slowly ran the flat of his tongue along your slit and over your nub in one long, tantalising up and down motion. He still appeared in no hurry, shutting his eyes to savour each sensation, repeating the action three more times until you were panting with need.

With a final lick through your folds, he opened his eyes again to meet yours. “You taste even sweeter than I imagined. Is this what you were dreaming about before, pet?”

“Mmm hmm, yes. Don’t remember you wasting time by talking in my fantasy though.” Your hands tangled in his hair, firmly directing him back down to where you ached for him.

With a smug grin, he cupped your bottom with his palms to lift you closer and lowered his head again, this time flicking his tongue softly from side-to side across your clit. He varied the speed and direction but kept the same gentle pressure, until your hips were bucking off the bed in search of the added friction your body craved. The feel of you writhing under him helplessly, unable to form words beyond “oh god oh god”, was better than he'd ever hoping and he needed more, much more. Leaving one hand still caressing your bottom, the pad of his thumb pressed firmly against your swollen bundle of nerves whilst his mouth moved to cover your folds, sucking them into his mouth with lewd slurping sounds.

His tongue probed your entrance, powerfully thrusting in over and over and eagerly lapping up your juices, devouring you like the finest Asgardian mead. Gradually increasing his speed, demanding rather than coaxing another release from you, until your moans and the quaking of your thighs either side of his head told him you were close. His lips closed around your clit, suckling hard and you were lost, screaming as he took you apart and put you together again. Gentling his movements to ease you through it, drawing out your pleasure as long as possible until the tremors in your body subsided.

“Fuck, you’re amazing at that.” Barely able to catch your breath, your fingers loosened their grasp on his hair to try to push his head away. “Maybe we should rest for a bit.”

The quick shake of his head made it clear he’d heard but had other plans. “Not stopping. Another.”

Before you had a chance to react, a large hand splayed across your pelvis to pin you down and stop you squirming away. His mouth continued its teasing movements whilst a long finger penetrated you, curling and probing until it found the precise spot that made your toes curl and your back arch off the bed, praise and curses falling from your lips in equal measure. He hummed in satisfaction as the tip of his tongue circled your clitoris in a feather-light motion, carefully keeping you at the razor-edge of overstimulation. Every hot breath across the swollen bud was exquisite agony, every movement pushing you closer to heaven.

He increased the speed and pressure of his finger, revelling in your breathless moans and gasps. When a second, and then a third, finger joined in to press and curl over your g-spot, you were a whimpering wreck and he was harder than he ever thought possible, unconsciously grinding his crotch against the mattress to ease the ache. God, he loved seeing you like this, would never tire of watching you surrender to the pleasure he could give you.

“Thor, please. So close,” you begged in a hoarse whisper. “Please fuck me again.”

Leaving your core, his tongue dragged slowly along your hip bone in a long stripe, drawing another low moan from you that made his cock throb. “Oh I intend to, many times. I have spent weeks imagining all the things I would do to you if you ever gave me the chance.”

His lips started their slow journey up your body as he spoke, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses to your stomach as he crawled over you. “Perhaps I should take you from behind this time? Let the perfect curves of your backside fill my hands as I fuck into you.”

Dear god, he was going to be the death of you. Your breath came in short gasps as he continued his leisurely progress up your body until his face drew level with your breasts. “Or maybe I should lay back and have you ride my cock so I can watch these beautiful tits bouncing again?” His mouth captured one nipple, nipping it between his teeth, circling the hard peak with his tongue, sucking noisily as you trembled under him, slick pooling between your thighs.

When he felt you couldn’t take any more, he let go of the nipple with a wet pop and moved further up your body, deliberately teasing with the rub of his chest against your aching nipples, until his face was level with yours. Resting one arm by the side of your face to support his weight, his other hand stroked your cheek tenderly. “But these are my fantasies, not yours. Earlier you said you wished to have my body pressing you into the bed. Is that still what you want?”

You finally found your voice, although it was just a whisper. “Hell yes.”

Exactly what he wanted to hear. “Your wish is my command, my lady.”

Using his free hand to hold your thigh wider, he shuffled to guide his rock-hard cock to your entrance and pushed in slowly, pausing to savour your wet warmth as he sheathed himself fully. “Feel so good, like you were made for me.”

Pinned under him and desperately close to cumming, you squirmed helplessly, fingers clutching at his back. “Move, please, move.”

He knew he wouldn’t last long, not with the way your walls were clenching around him. Settling for a steady rhythm of short, shallow thrusts that ensured he hit that perfect spot inside you, he rolled his hips to grind his pubic bone against your clit with each stroke.

Your eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy but knowing he was close to release you forced them open, wanting to witness him come undone above you. Using the last of your energy, as your climax hit you squeezed your inner muscles to grip his cock tighter and he howled with pleasure, hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. With a final deep thrust he came, groaning as he painted your walls with his thick cum.

*****

You’d lost count after the seventh orgasm, and life could not have been more perfect. Sitting between his legs with your head resting on his chest and his arms resting gently round your middle, you were snug and happy and thoroughly spent.

Thor pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Your skin feels cooler now, pet, I think that’s a good sign. Do you have any pain still?”

Oh shit, the sex pollen. If you were being honest, you’d forgotten all about it at this point and you did a quick self-inventory. A little sleepy but with a clearer head than you’d had in hours. Muscle cramps and fever seemingly gone. Definitely still horny as hell but you were inclined to think it had nothing to do with Hydra chemicals any more and everything to do with the fact that a literal sex god was in your bed.

“No actual pain any more. I mean, I’m quite sore in places and it’s unlikely I can walk properly right now, but I think the chemicals are out of my system.” You were suddenly acutely aware of the implications. If the effects of the pollen were gone, you were now lying naked with someone who might have only been there out of a sense of duty and had no reason to stay. You shuffled out of his embrace, not wanting to feel you were forcing yourself on him at this point. “It may or may not be a good sign but I’m starving. I’m gonna see what there is to eat. You want anything? I mean, you have used a fair amount of energy.”

He chuckled, nodding his assent, and you got out of bed, wincing slightly with each step as you headed over to table to investigate the box of supplies left by the medical team. Under different circumstances you might have grabbed a shirt to cover your nakedness but it seemed ridiculous to act all shy when you were liberally covered in hickeys, beard burn and assorted bodily fluids.

Thor’s eyes travelled over each curve of your body admiringly as you bent over and started sifting through the box. Your smooth skin was peppered with patches of purple and red across your neck and thighs and the recollection of you writhing under him in bliss, moaning so sweetly whilst he made each mark, made his cock twitch and stiffen. “I think that we may have a problem.”

You didn’t look up from your task, intent on finding something suitable to eat. “Nah we’re good, there’s enough food in here to feed an army. And Tony was in charge of sorting this box so there has to be chocolate in here somewhere.”

“No, not that. I wonder if the sex pollen is contagious, because I seem to have an uncontrollable urge to keep fucking you.”

It seemed he wasn’t in any hurry to leave and your heart leapt. You paused your search, trying hard to resist the impulse to simply turn and pounce on him. “Oh, that is a worry.”

“Yes, it is most concerning.” The carnal smile on Thor’s face belied the seriousness of his tone. “What would you propose we do about it?”

Knowing that today could well be your only opportunity with the Asgardian of your dreams, you were sure as hell going to make the most of it. “Hmm, tricky. Well, since you were kind enough to help me I guess I have no choice but to return the favour and give you the same treatment,” you said, wiggling your ass invitingly in his direction.

For a man of his size, Thor could move surprisingly quickly and he was out of bed in a flash, arms enveloping you to pull your back flush against his chest. “Absolutely, we should be thorough just in case I have been affected.” His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking and nipping.

“No sense taking chances with your health,” you purred, tilting your head sideways to give his mouth easier access to your throat.

“Um, hello.” The disembodied voice over the comms made you both jump. “I’m checking how you are - your vital signs seem to have returned to more or less normal.”

It took some effort to pay attention with large hands roaming across your body and a rapidly-hardening cock pressing against your backside but you did your best. “Yep, feeling pretty good now Doc, thanks.”

Thor tutted against your skin as his lips found the sensitive spot just behind your ear. “Only pretty good? Clearly I need to increase my efforts.” He cupped one breast, giving a squeeze and rolling the nipple firmly between his finger and thumb, eliciting a breathy moan from you.

“Everything OK?” Dr Cho tried to make it sound like genuine medical concern and not just nosiness laced with a hint of jealousy.

“Oh fuck yes ... um ... no nothing’s wrong, it’s fine, I’m fine,” you babbled, as a hand pressed insistently between your shoulder blades to bend you forwards, not stopping until your breasts squished against the table top. Your legs spread in anticipation, allowing his cock to nudge at your sex.

Helen just wouldn’t leave you in peace though. “Are you sure? Your heart rate is spiking again.”

Ignoring the rumbling laugh above you, you attempted to concentrate on the conversation. Not easy when Thor kept rolling his hips lazily to glide his cock through your folds, coating himself with your slick as his hands squeezed your bottom. You bit your lip to stifle a moan. “No, no, I’m totally better. Thor’s treatment is ... oh god ... really hitting the spot.”

“I bet it is,” said Dr Cho bitterly. “Anyway, I’ll need to run a few tests on you, just to be certain. So it’s probably a good time for Thor to leave so we can do the tests in private.”

“No need for you to bother with any tests, Doctor. I’m taking very good care of her.” Thor paused just long enough to growl a response before he lined himself up and thrust forward. You squealed with pleasure, hands scrabbling for purchase on the table as he pulled back and repeated the motion.

“Look, I realise you’re having fun in there, but it’s my job as chief medical officer to ...”

You’d had enough of conversation. “Friday, lock the door until I say otherwise.”

“But I have to ...”

Two voices spoke in unison. “Fuck off, Helen.”

*****

You woke feeling more rested than you had in a long while. Lying on your side, still half-asleep, you tried to stretch and realised with a start there was a heavy arm resting on top of you. A warm, hard body touching yours. Soft lips kissing your cheek. Oh my god, it wasn’t a dream. And he’s still here.

“Good morning, pet.” Thor’s voice was rough, still thick with sleep, and your libido was suddenly wide awake.

“Um, morning.” You kept your eyes closed, needing a few more seconds to mentally prepare for the sight that awaited you. “What time is it?”

“A little after ten. I tried not to wake you, since you obviously needed your rest. And also because it gave me a chance to admire how peaceful you look when asleep.”

Surprised by the flattery, you opened your eyes and damn, you should have taken more time to prepare yourself. Tousled golden hair framing his perfect features, plump lips curved into a warm smile, pale blue eyes gazing at you intently. It shouldn’t be possible for someone to look that good when they’d just woken up and yet there he was.

Reaching over, you cupped the back of his neck and pulled him into a lingering kiss, trying to memorise the feel of his lips on yours in case it was the last time. “Thank you for helping me. For everything,”

It has truly been my pleasure.” he said, pressing a tiny kiss to the tip of your nose that had you melting against him. His hand stroked your hip tenderly, murmuring “I adore the touch of your body against mine. So gloriously soft.”

You glanced down to where the sheet did nothing to conceal his arousal. “Definitely can’t say the same about you. Are you absolutely certain you didn’t get a dose of that sex pollen too?”

Thor didn’t even try to disguise the pride in his voice as his fingertips continued to draw lazy circles on your leg. “God-like stamina. Not to mention the company of a most desirable, bewitchingly beautiful naked woman.”

“Insatiable sexual appetite AND full of compliments - I knew that choosing you was the right decision.”

“I’m extremely glad you did. Though the Captain would disagree, he seemed most keen to be the one lucky enough to have you.”

The smile slid off your face as the toe-curling reality of yesterday’s events hit you in a wave of embarrassment. “Oh my god, everyone saw me naked. And playing with myself. And begging for sex. Ugh.“ Burying your face in the pillow, you groaned. “Never going to be able to look anyone in the face ever again. I’ll have to change my name and move to another country. SHIELD can do that, right?”

“You did nothing wrong, they all know it was the chemicals that were responsible for the way you acted. And we have all seen Stark behave far worse with no such excuse.”

“I suppose you’re right, no need to over-react. Just need to find a way to wipe everyone’s memories.” Glancing over at him, your face broke into a shy smile. “Not mine though, I don’t ever want to forget anything that happened in this room.”

Thor’s arm wrapped protectively round you so your head rested on his shoulder. “Nor do I. In any case, there is enough food and water in here to last until tomorrow so we can hide for a while longer if you wish?”

“Hiding sounds like a perfect plan. But how will we pass the time?” You snuggled closer, trailing your hand along his thigh suggestively. “Maybe we could repeat what we did yesterday but without the pollen, see if there’s a difference - you know, for science?”

His hand closed over yours to stop it before it reached his crotch. “That sounds a worthy endeavour indeed, but I have to say no. I do not want to fuck you today.”

You’d been expecting him to say that this had been a casual thing, just a good time whilst helping out a friend in distress, even though you fervently hoped for much more. Still, the bluntness of his rejection stung like a slap in the face and you hurriedly moved off him, cheeks burning in humiliation, pulling the sheet up to cover your bare chest. “Of course, sorry. Stupid of me to just assume.”

Thor put his hand under your chin, gently tilting it until your embarrassed gaze met his. “Yesterday you needed to fight those chemicals and I was very happy to fuck you, hard and fast and often. But today should be about want, not need.” He moved closer, never breaking eye contact. “And what I want to do today is make love to you.”

Your mouth dropped open in surprise, hardly daring to breath in case you’d misunderstood. Moving so he was above you, he gently rolled you onto your back. Lips brushed against yours before leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your throat as he spoke. “Today I wish to get to know you more intimately, to take my time exploring your body slowly and find out exactly what pleases you most. To worship you with my body like the goddess you are. To give you unimaginable bliss as I fulfil your deepest fantasies.” Pausing his assault on your neck, he looked at you with hopeful eyes. “Is that something you want too?”

Your voice came out as a squeak. “Um, yes I suppose I could live with that.”

“I promise, you will not regret it.” His mouth captured yours in a kiss that quickly became more heated. Using his knee to nudge your legs apart, he settled between your thighs, rubbing against you as you sighed into his mouth. “And when we eventually leave this room, would you do me the honour of going out to dinner with me?”

“I’d love to.” Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. “But you should know, I don’t put out on the first date.”

#thor x reader #thor smut #thor fluff #thor fanfiction #thor imagine #thor odinson x reader #thor x female reader #thor odinson smut #thor odinson fanfiction #the-omni-princess1kwritingchallenge

[samwilsonsbabymama]

It’s Not Even My Birthday

Pairing: Bruce Banner/Hulk x Black Reader (18+)

Summary: You and Bruce fuck at a party 🤷🏿‍♀️

Warnings: Smut, talk about being drunk, more smut, talk of cum eating, OH!!!!! and the Hulk makes an appearance lol

A/N: This my second fic for @the-omni-princess 1K writing challenge. My prompt was... Birthday Cake by Rihanna I chose the solo version. Congrats you wonderful person!!! You deserve all of the love 💖

This is also a part of my Bruce Banner’s Secret Family AU so yeah lol

Word Count: < 1,000

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

You screamed along with the rest of the party before you turned around in Bruce’s arms. He smiled down at you before you pressed your lips to his. This was the first time the two of you had been able to come out and party with your friends since the new baby had been born, and you were taking full advantage of it. You were completely drunk, and you were surprised that Bruce had let you get this drunk, but you didn't really care. The sole thing that you cared about was the feeling of his lips on yours.

You pulled away from the kiss, and he growled at the loss of your lips. When he looked into your eyes, he smiled at the twinkle in them before he lured you away from the party and through the halls. You giggled as you stumbled over your feet causing Bruce to slow down a bit.

"Bruce!" you hiccupped. "Where are you taking me?"

"Shhh!!!!" he responded, but his voice was louder than yours. He was drunk too. You giggled again when you recognized the familiar path to Bruce’s lab.

"Bruce!" you gasped loudly. "Tony will murder us if he finds out!"

"Then you better be quiet so that he doesn't," Bruce responded as he ushered you through the lab door. You shuffled in quietly behind him as he flipped on the lights. It had been a few months since you were in here last and you had been wanting to christen his workplace, but you never had the opportunity. That is, until now.

You pulled him through the laboratory and gently pushed him into his chair before you straddled his lap and kissed him. He wound his arms around you and deepened the kiss before you felt the zipper of your dress being tugged down.

Your hands ran down the front of his shirt and slipped the buttons through their openings to reveal his chest. You didn’t realize how much you missed being able to just look at Bruce. You didn't realize how much you missed him even though you spent a lot of time with him, you missed being alone with him.

You smiled once again as he stood up and pushed you down onto his desk.

"As much as I wanna go slow, I need to be in you, y/n," he growled between his clenched teeth. Both of your hands reached down to unbuckle his belt and shove his pants down to his knees.

You licked your lips as his thick dick bounced from its confines. Bruce gripped himself with one hand and placed the other on your inner thigh. He pulled your panties to the side just before he slipped inside of you. His movements were slow and deliberate as if he were trying to memorize every part of you. Your breath hitched when he bottomed out and then stilled for a moment.

"Fuck," he groaned just before he began to thrust. Bruce placed both hands on your inner thighs and held you open. His strokes were deep and strong. You reached up in an attempt to bring him closer to you, but he refused to move, his attention stuck on where the two of you were connected.

"Bruce, baby, look at me please," you moaned. You needed his attention, but he didn’t hear you, so you tried again. "Bruce, please look at me."

This time along with calling his name, you clenched your walls around him. His eyes snapped up to yours. His eyes were no longer a deep brown; they were currently mixed with flecks of green and you knew that meant that Bruce was fighting to keep the Hulk at bay.

You smirked, you missed playing with Hulk. Bruce had managed to keep him away for some time now and you assumed it was because you had recently had your baby but you felt that you were ready for him... Maybe not all of him, but some.

"Hulk, baby," you whined and smirked when Bruce’s eyes flashed green. You had him. "Hulk, baby, just a little please?" you begged.

You knew you couldn’t take all of Hulk just yet, but a little never hurt anyone. Right?

You keened as you felt your husband's dick grow a little bit inside of you. The stretch caused his movements to slow. "Fuck," Bruce groaned out.

You could see his skin tint green and you loved it. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you pulled him down into a kiss and he continued to pound into you. He pulled back and moved one of his hands to your mouth, and you began to suck on his fingers completely coating them in spit. His eyes bounced between your mouth, your pussy, and your eyes. He didn’t know where to look.

His hips began to move faster and your hands traveled down to where you were connected and you played with your clit and Bruce watched. His hips began moving at an even faster pace as you rubbed your bundle of nerves in time with his thrusts. The sounds of skin clapping together combined with his thick dick inside of you made you cum even faster than you’d planned. And before you knew it, you were squirting all over him. Bruce fucked you through your orgasm as he chased his. You wanted him to cum in you, you begged him to cum in you but right before he did, he pulled out of you and came all over your exposed stomach. You frowned a bit but smiled when you noticed the look in his eye.

"It's not even my birthday, but you wanna lick the icing off," you smiled and laughed when he looked at you and rolled his eyes, the green fading back into brown.

"Rihanna? Really?" Bruce laughed along with you.

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tags:

@thadelightfulone // @xsmilebitesx // @inspired--byfashion // @someareblindtoitsbeauty // @cgotwat // @theunsweetenedtruth  // @blackpantherimagines // @chefjessypooh // @honeytoffee  // @theblulife // @blackpantherreblogs // @jozigrrl // @semianta // @wawakanda-btch // @chaneajoyyy // @deansbbysblog // @momobaby227 // @blaqueprincess // @drtycomputerx // @therealhousewivesofidris // @buckybarnesscrunchie// @ilovebey2018 // @honeychicana

#bruce banner x reader #hulk x reader #bruce banner x black reader #the-omni-princess1kwritingchallenge #maree writes #hulk x black reader

[kashimos-hajime]

soldier | amaranthine (1/6) | b.b.

summary: a boy and a girl went off to war. they fell in love and the devil laughed.

WARNINGS: swearing, MAJOR angst, more fluff than usual wow, heckie doo dah they kiss, blood and vomit mentions, a lot of pain, guns, needles, trains pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 7.5k

a/n: written for @the-omni-princess​ and their writing challenge! i really couldn’t help it, i loved bucky and this reader so much i turned it into a series. my prompt was soldier by fleurie. gif not mine. this series will have a happy ending ON GOD

amaranthine masterlist

Head in the dust, feet in the fire Labour on that midnight wire Listening for that angel choir You got nowhere to run

Sunlight filters through dust and Bucky Barnes thinks it’s too fucking sunny for a day in the trenches. His feet blister as he shifts against the wet mud wall. His stomach is hollow and he closes his eyes. Chains wrap around his bones, tying him to his mud post. Mud caked beneath his nails and a strange crackling feeling festering between his legs and his gut, Bucky Barnes tries to sleep for the first time in three days. All he can feel is the mud through his soaked uniform. Yesterday, it rained like Hell’s flames had reached earth, and beneath molding wood, Bucky had tried to keep his soldiers as warm as he could.

He can’t remember the last time he was dry.

“Sarge, it’s your turn,” a soldier calls and his eyes open as he raises his head from the mud wall. Dried mud crumbles from his head and he grabs his helmet, wedges it beneath his arm and lets his muscles scream. His stomach wails and his head spins when he stands but he blinks the dust away and instead sends a nod to the soldier who begins to lead him through the maze. Hand dragging along the crumbling trench wall, he heads through the pits he knows too well to where the rest of the 107th are waiting. They mumble him greetings as he walks between their legs and bodies, some of them groaning when he steps on mud that leaks out dirt water. They’ve yet to see them yet, then. 

Every soldier that’s gone in has come out remarkably brighter, and these men look more ashen than death.

He doesn’t know what to expect. Suddenly this medical corp was doing a standard health check while not in combat, and safe to say, it raised Bucky’s suspicions. He continues walking and walking, his blisters bleeding and he’s sure he has some trench foot or some other shit. His feet have been swimming in water and mud for days.

His eyes scan the back of the soldier’s head. Clean helmet, new uniform and boots. Lucky him.

“They’ll take good care of you, Sarge,” the soldier announces all sudden-like and Bucky’s head rings. “Get you into right fighting shape.” 

From then, it’s a blur. Hands take him and pass him on to other hands. They take off his clothes, pour warm water over his head and clean him inch by inch. The water turns dark with red and brown when they’re done and he’s sure he can feel the lice in his hair jumping ship before they show him to another tent and then another, each one doing something different. 

The last tent is when his mind finally plays catch up. 

“Sergeant Barnes?” a voice calls as his blue eyes drift warily around him. Beside him are other soldiers, countless rows of them. Some of them are bleeding through their bandages, there are three crowded around one bed playing cards, and he’s alone in his bed. He glances down at his hands, tough with calluses and scrubbed clean of dirt before raising his head. 

“That’s me.”

“Perfect.” 

The voice. His eyes find the voice and then he sees her. Her mouth moves and he hears her say her name, but all he can think of is one thing: angel. She isn’t wearing white, and she doesn’t have wings or a halo. Instead, she has dark half-moons imprinted on her face and messy hair and a fixed smile, and she’s anything but an angel, but it’s the only word Bucky can use to describe her. 

She has the inexplicable draw, and when he blinks, a little too stunned for words, her fixed smile softens.

He sits up a little straighter, and his heart beats a little louder, and for the first time in days, weeks, months, Bucky Barnes doesn’t feel the cold or the wet or the pain.

“Ma’am.” He clears his throat and she laughs as she sets down a tray of food in his lap. His hands instinctively reach to grab and when her fingers brush his, a jolt sends shivers up his spine. She’s the warmest thing he’s touched in days. The woman wears a uniform similar to his with tough stains along her front and in the creases of her jacket and when she bends over to pull the blanket away from his feet, he can spot the dirty rags stuffed into her pockets. A trained nurse, doctor maybe. “Ma’am, you don’t need to worry—”

“You were written down as potentially suffering from trench foot, Sergeant. I’m just going to take a look, treat it, and then I’ll be on my way,” she says, her voice lilting and soft, different than the sound of screams that seem to echo from tents away, the sound of soldiers cheering whenever they win a game of cards.

Bucky looks down at the tray of food. A bowl of hot soup, dry bread with cheese and a steaming cup of coffee has never looked so delicious. As he picks up the spoon to dip into the soup, he glances at the nurse who takes hold of his ankle. Quickly grabbing a hold of his tray, he steadies it and she sends him an apologetic look down the way. “Sorry.”

“No problem.” He smiles and his face stretches strangely. 

It occurs to Bucky he hasn’t smiled in ages, and the woman’s tiny smile in return is enough for him to keep his own grin going.

“Where are you from?” he asks even though it’s painfully obvious. He only speaks because it’s almost humiliating to eat and watch her inspect his feet, especially when he can occasionally catch the glances she sends his way; it’s almost as if she hates the silence as much as he does.

“South London,” she says, slowly setting one foot down. “They soaked your feet, correct?”

“They did. Never been so dry.” She chuckles and the sound is music to Bucky’s ears as she sets down the other foot. “I’m alright to leave, ma’am?”

“You need to be treated first,” she cuts him off, shooting him a narrowed glare. “Talcum powder is extremely helpful. It’ll keep your feet dry for longer and reduce the chafing between your socks and your feet.”

“A miracle.”

“Hardly.” She sends him a quick glance to see if he’s eating before beginning to pat the powder down over his skin. “You need to keep your feet as dry as possible, and expose them to the air, or you’ll be losing more than skin.”

“Hard to do in the mud, ma’am,” he says with a shrug, chugging down his coffee and she catches her bottom lip between her teeth as she pats white dust over his other foot. He wiggles his toe against her palm and she shakes her head with half a smile, gently nudging his foot with a stern rub. “The rain gets everywhere.” 

“I know. It’s advice I still have to give, though.” She claps her hands, white dust springing into the air in a cloud. Waving it away, she bends over to grab pillows and shoves them beneath his legs, exposing his blistering feet to the other soldiers who care to look his way. Wiping her palms along her pants, white streaks down the dark green before she pulls out clean socks and sets them by his bedside. “Put these on when you’re discharged. I hope I don’t have to see you again, Sergeant Barnes.” A sort of yawning ache splits Bucky down the middle as she brushes hair out of her face and turns to pick up a second tray of medical supplies.

“Any siblings?” he asks suddenly just to keep her around. She blinks, turns to check if anyone needs her, and then perches on the edge of his cot like a pretty little bird. Her tray balances in her lap, tools glimmering against the stark-white of a roll of bandages. He brings a spoonful of soup to his lips and it warms him all the way down to the belly. A bit of it dribbles down his chin and she reaches over with a thumb to wipe it off. 

“Three brothers,” she says, withdrawing her hand. Bucky’s lips part and he sucks in a soft breath as she smiles again, this time wide enough to dig into her cheeks. It changes her—makes her younger and softer. Against the grey of everything, she is enchanting. “Twin older brothers and one baby brother.”

“That must’ve been the worst.” He smirks, eyebrows raising and she hides a laugh unsuccessfully. Bucky’s been told he has an infectious smile and he’s glad war hasn’t taken that away from him. She scoots closer to the head of the bed as he eats and as she nears, he can almost count the stars in her eyes.

“My brothers never stopped getting into trouble and I always got caught in the middle of it. They taught me how to fight and we fought all the time…” Her voice fades away and Bucky frowns, eyebrows furrowing together. “Until the war happened.” Her smile slips away and her eyes no longer bare the bravery to meet his. A muscle in her jaw ticks and Bucky almost reaches for her hand. Almost. He cocks his head, letting his drying hair fall into his eyes and she looks at him again, this time not as warmly, this time with emptiness.

“My brothers fled to America a few months after they declared war,” she says. Some nameless, faceless men in Bucky’s head appear and he tilts his head, lips pressing together in a firm line. He could try to imagine a selfish man with her features, or maybe a man hiding under a hood as he boarded a ship with the same eyes, but he can’t. Not when his sister sits right before him. “Because in England, they can’t conscript the last son of a family.”

His thoughts crumble to ash.

“But you’re here,” he whispers and she looks down at his tray, unseeing. 

“I am,” she agrees, wistful, regretful. When their eyes meet again, Bucky wonders if she feels the heat, too. “And you? Any siblings?”

“Three.”

“And you’ve left them behind, too.”

“You’ve been at war much longer than I have,” Bucky points out and she tilts her chin up. The grey sun that streams through the tent flaps hits her face and she’s almost blindingly radiant in a way that breaks a man’s heart. Shifting in his seat, he blinks and tries to keep that image of her, an angel in grey light before it’s gone. She ducks her head to tuck away hair from her face and he twists to set down his tray of food beside him. “You know, I used to braid my sister’s hair before school,” he says and she looks at him, eyebrows shadowing her eyes. “Can’t be rusty when I get back.”

She laughs, almost incredulous, and very, very tired, and Bucky can see the minute the weight seems to lift off her shoulders. She sets down her tray and leans back on her hands, lip caught between teeth as she tries to bite her smile down. It only makes Bucky smile wider.

“Sergeant Barnes, would you please braid a girl’s hair?” she asks, dewy sweet, and Bucky nearly melts in his bed. Mouth dry, he clears his throat and pulls at his blanket. 

“What would I get in return?” He plays for keeps, and the angel grins, leaning towards him. His eyes fall to her lips as she brushes hair out of his face. Bucky can barely breath at the featherlight sweep of her fingers.

“Would my everlasting affection suffice?” She cocks her head and waits for his answer, fingers stilling on his cheek as his eyes flicker from her lips to her eyes. He wonders what it would taste like, to kiss her. Maybe it’d taste like coffee and cough syrup, or gunpowder and ash. Whatever it is, Bucky wants to know. So he nods 

“I s’pose it would.”

.

The cell reeks of dead rat and rank shit. With the wet drip-drip-drip of water leaking from a crack in the ceiling, Bucky digs his shiv into the cement. Scratching the tally mark, he lets the ugly grating of metal against the wall ring in his ears. A mind-numbing pain rests in his veins and just the mere effort of dragging his arm up the wall to run the point through the mark again is nearly too much. His mind swirls in a twisted knot, one that only tightens with every waking moment.

Whatever they did to him—lacing fire and ice into his blood, carving him from the inside out and sharpening his every sense until he can hear the roaches crawling on the walls—has changed him. Somewhere inside him knows he’s different, disfigured on a level he cannot understand. 

He lets his hand fall to the cot as the sound of rusted metal echoes down the hall.

“Let go of me! Bastards!”

Blinding candlelight streams into his cage and Bucky raises his head wearily, twisting onto his side to watch as German soldiers haul a furiously struggling figure between them. Muffled grunts and the sound of fabric rustling catches his ear as he blinks away the stars in his eyes and drops his shiv, hiding it beneath his ratty blanket.

“Herr Schmidt promised you your life for your compliance.”

“Let him choke on my compliance!” The voice rings in his ears as he pushes himself to a sitting position and his metal cell opens before the sound of a body colliding with the floor fills the silence. Bucky blinks hard, trying to get used to the golden light before it shuts him in the darkness once again, but the guards are already closing his gate. The person splayed on his floor gets up, rushing to the metal bars and slamming their first against the shaking thing as the soldiers laugh.

“What the hell?” he mutters, rubbing his eye and one of the soldiers look to him.

“You have company, Sergeant Barnes. Enjoy.” The sneer that seeps into the parting word causes an unwanted shiver to crawl up Bucky’s spine as the body crawls into the middle of his cell and collapses, letting out a sob. Propping himself on his hands, Bucky tries to remember where he’s heard this voice before. 

His brain feels burned, and the harder he thinks, the more it seems to whine. 

“Barnes?”

His name, whispered harshly and echoing in his four walls of prison, is the answer to his prayers, the answer he least desires. 

“Angel,” he utters, breathless as he slides to the floor. The rough cement crates against his weak, bony knees and hands take hold of him as a wet face presses against his cheek.

“Sergeant Barnes.” She all but melts into his embrace, and she burns with the heat of ten million stars, all too hot for his own feverish fingers yet still he digs his nails into her back hard enough that his bones ache. “What did they do to me?” she whispers, shaking, and Bucky pulls her back by the shoulder, one hand cupping her head gently.

“How long have you been here?” he asks carefully and she searches his gaze. “Where were you?” Her breaths shudder against his palm as he wipes away the tears from her face and in the grim, fading light, he can see blood leaking from her ear, dripping warmly onto his knuckles.

“After Azzano, they attacked the hospital.” Her breath, hot as summer rain, chills him to the bone. “They managed to evacuate all but the last few tents and they caught me.” A disgusted twist in her lip, her eyes unfocus. Bucky cups her face, feels something thrum in her pulse and she looks up, looks through him. “They said I was to be put under tests, and I’d be lucky to survive.”

Bucky’s hand on her shoulder trails to the collar of her shirt, gently hooking a finger and tugging. Colourful smudges of purple, blue, yellow, and green smear her skin. The effects of needles, huge and plunging and painful. If he looks close enough in the dark, he can spot the entry points, stabs that haven’t healed.

A flicker of fire burns brighter in his belly than the one that already soaks him in its heat.

“I don’t feel very lucky, Sergeant Barnes,” she whimpers. Bucky’s eyes flash back to hers, and when she blinks, fresh tears run over his skin. “It hurts everywhere.”

“You’ll be okay.” He brings her into his embrace, a hand on her head and the other wrapped around her back as he closes his eyes. Her arms slither around his waist and he presses his cheek against her temple. “You’re going to be okay, angel.”

She is silent. Two weeks and they’ve already beaten hope out of this place. Perhaps she isn’t quite used to the freezing agony set in her bones yet or the ache of ligaments tearing and building again as every fiber of her turns to steel. Bucky wants to tell her it’ll get better, but he doesn’t know himself. 

“You’ll have the bed,” Bucky promises and she pulls back immediately to protest but he shakes his head. “My ma would smack me if I didn’t insist.” He half-smiles and his muscles stretch pleasantly in his cheeks as her arms draw away slightly. Her hands rest on his hips and he nods to her. 

“You’re my patient,” she protests and he chuckles quietly. It’s a raspy kind of sound and it sounds hollow the more it echoes, but he means it. “I’m supposed to take care of you.”

“Angel, you took care of soldiers for years before I came around,” he starts, and something in her eyes flickers. He cups her cheek, the dim light barely lighting her features. The swollen bags beneath her eyes have only grown worse since he’s last seen her, and she’s lost what little healthy glow she had that coloured her face. “I think it’s time someone took care of you.”

“Sergeant Barnes, I—”

“Bucky,” he says, brushing limp hair away from her face. He can hear her thunderous heart, or perhaps it is his beating between his ears, louder than the ocean. “My name’s Bucky.”

.

“Where are the rest of the 107th?” she asks that night as they feed on cold soup. Bucky’s fingers tremble but the pain has receded into a tiny knot at the base of his skull. His arm feels like it’s about to drop off his body and with every move of his neck, heat and bruising pain spreads into his chest. She drops her spoon too loudly and they both flinch.

“They separated me from them after they began the tests,” he mutters, letting the cold broth slither down his gut. “No one came back from the isolation ward so I thought for sure I’d be dead.”

“Well, neither of us are.” She’s leaning against the metal frame of the bed, her knees tucked to her chest. Her scrappy uniform is scuffed with dirt and wet from the mold growing beneath their feet but Bucky merely smiles softly. His back against the wall, his feet are outstretched before him. He’s quite sure if she stretches her legs too, their boots would touch. “How many doses have they given you?”

“Two.” He sets down his bowl in his lap. She looks into her own, stirring, the metal cup perched on her knees. “You?”

“One.” Something in Bucky’s arm begins to tingle, as if the injection sites open wide at the sound of her voice. He lets his head tilt back until he knocks into the stone. “They kept me in another part of the factory to treat workers before they decided to use me like some lab rat.” Fabric rustles and a presence looms near him as he closes his eyes. Something warm is set in his lap and he lifts his head wearily as she settles in beside him. “You should eat.”

“What?” He picks up the one fresh ingredient to their meal, a slice of warm bread, and shakes his head. Picking it up, he tries to hand it back to her. “No, you need to eat—”

“You’ve been here longer, Sergeant.” 

“Angel—”

“I get the bed, and you get the warm bread.” She seems to sag into her shoulders and he frowns slightly. “It seems only fair.” Her hair is slick with dirt, sweat and oil as she rests her head on his shoulder and he tilts his head until his cheek presses against her scalp. Her boot knocks into his as he rips the bread apart.

“Fine. Can’t deny you a thing,” he whispers and she shakes with a silent chuckle, weak and tired. “How’re you feeling?”

“I don’t want to move away from you,” she murmurs blearily, her eyes closed as she turns her head to him. Her nose brushes his jaw as he swallows. “Tell me a story.”

“About what, sweetheart?” he asks, and the warmth of her is so comforting he could cry. Human touch that isn’t sharp and painful and terrible has caused his body to soften. Her body has twisted towards him, her knees bent and her legs hooked over one of his. “I can tell you ‘bout Brooklyn, I guess.”

“Would you?” she asks, exhausted, small, fading. She loops her arm through his, curls herself around it as he bites into the cooling crust. He swallows quickly, feeling it lump together on its way down to his stomach.

“Yeah, and I can tell you ‘bout Steve. He’s my best friend and I made him ride the Cyclone once on Coney Island. I gotta bring you there, the lights at night on a warm summer day… it’s the prettiest sight…”

He can tell the instant she slips away from him, the subtle change in her breathing and her heart rate, the peace that overtakes her face, the tender warmth that seeps into his own bones. He gently brings the slice of bread to his mouth, devouring it in two or three bites before picking up his bowl of soup again. Sipping quietly, he is careful not to disturb her as she squirms against him, seeking something warmer than what he can provide. He carefully sets down the bowl and wraps his free arm around her, squeezing gently in hopes that it’ll give life to her frigid skin.

His own heart thuds in his throat when she lets out a soft sigh and melts into his body. He tilts his head, nose in her hair as her breath puffs against his neck, soft as snow. He closes his own eyes and his mind wanders as her arms, wrapped around his arm, hold him even tighter to her own chest.

A small bomb explodes in his chest and he smiles even though no one’s looking. 

Bucky Barnes has never really loved a girl before, but in this moment, as her body fits into his like it is meant to be and he sits, rots, in an Austrian prison with poison running through his veins, he is sure he will gladly die for one.

.

It’s by the third dose for her do they understand best how to take care of one another. Bucky can usually tell when they’ll take one of them away by the meal they present. It’ll be warm, almost hot, and rich with nutrients their bodies crave, and in the mornings, fresh towels and ice will be shoved into their cell like they swelter from the heat. 

They toss her into the cell with a rattling slam with a promise to return for him soon but Bucky doesn’t say a word in return. An agonizing mess, his angel lets out a soft moan as he scoops her into his arms. The smell of clean soap and sweat clings to her skin, her hair slightly damp from the shower they always force upon them before the doses. Dark, reddening marks imprinted into her temples, her eyes stare sightlessly ahead as he lays her down on the cot. He dips a towel into the bowl of freezing water.

The soft clack of ice against the metal bowl echoes in his head as he numbly wipes away the sweat, gently cleaning her tears and soothing an ache he knows festers between her temples.

“Doctor…. Prisoner… 56899…” The words slip between her lips, soft and jumbled as she turns her head away and the pit inside of Bucky widens as he tries to catch her eye.

“Angel,” he whispers, running his hand over her cheek. “Come back to me.” Turning her face towards him, he lets out a sharp breath as her eyes stare through him. “Hey, hey, hey.”

“Bucky?” It’s like magic the way a soul seems to fill her body in a moment’s notice. Life pours into her eyes, and a hand grips at his sleeve.

“Hey, angel.” He dips the towel in ice once again and she raises a hand gently to touch his face. Her fingers tremble, clammy with sweat, as he blinks. A strange smile stretches her face and he thinks she’s laughing at him as he wipes away the blood from her ear once again. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re crying, Sergeant Barnes,” she whispers fondly and Bucky blinks again, just realizing the heat that floods his face is not from the factory that works around them. Her cold fingers swipe away the wetness from his cheeks, spread it over his face and he resists the urge to press a kiss to her palm. Instead, he uses his free hand to hold her palm to his cheek. A shiver runs down his spine. “Who’s gone and broken your heart?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” he says. She laughs again, painful and quiet, and this time her eyes flutter shut as she slips away from him. Despite how much stronger she appears with muscles that flex and wane beneath his arms, he sees the cracks they split into her soul. He hopes the love he harbours for his angel is enough to seal every single one.

He knows it is not.

.

Bucky Barnes doesn’t tell her he loves her.

He doesn’t think he can bear the thought of telling her and disappearing the very next day, but perhaps it’s the little things that count.

“There’s enough room on the bed, Sergeant Barnes,” she had said, and they started to sleep together on the small little cot barely fit for one, Bucky slightly hunched over her as they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Their legs entangled and more often than not, it ended with one of them squished against the wall and the other flush against them, but it was always worth the morning blush.

“Have my blanket,” he had insisted as autumn swept over their prison cell and warm food was more and more of a necessity. Even though they didn’t need to eat and hunger no longer clawed at their stomachs, Bucky always remembered to share the slice of warm bread with her as their fingers turned numb and chattering teeth filled the silence at night.

“Hold my hand…” as fingers entwined with fingers.

“I’ll take care of you…” accompanied the sound of blood dripping onto the stone floor.

“When we get outta here…” followed by a million promises and the scratch of the shiv against the stone wall.

It’s the little things that count.

.

“You’re upset.”

Her voice is soft, gentle as snow as Bucky runs a towel raggedly through his almost-dry hair. He twists on his bed to see her standing there, in a new uniform and hair damp as it falls around her face. He thinks she’s never been more effortlessly gorgeous. Life has returned to her cheeks and her eyes spark.

“Angel,” he says with a smile and he scoots over to allow her room next to him. After a wash, he can almost imagine feeling like a new man. He tosses the towel onto the pillow behind him as she sits down. “Did they feed you yet?”

“Just had a quick wash. I was planning on eating with you,” she chirps, sliding an arm around his waist. Tugging him towards her with extraordinary strength, she smiles as Bucky ducks his head underneath her chin. Wrapping his own arms around her middle, he closes his eyes.

“I’m not upset,” he mumbles as her hand trails up his back and runs through his drying hair. “I’m just relieved we got out.”

“I know it’s more than that,” she whispers, gently tugging his head to meet eyes. When he finds her gaze, he feels boneless. A warmth floods his blood and a smile overcomes his face, small, tired. “You always let your guard down when you think no one’s looking.” But I’m always looking are the words that hang between them.

Bucky swallows and cold flashes over his body. 

“Let’s give it up for Captain America!”

“You think Steve’s gonna last till next week?” he asks quietly, hands falling away from her. He flinches back when her hands reach for him and he doesn’t see the hurt that settles on her face. “We saw soldiers die, friends bleed out, and you think Steve is gonna be different?”

“He is different.”

“Yeah, so they’ll have him fight the good fight.” His words are bitterly strung out and he wants to put a hole through the wall. “They’ll have him on the front lines and I’ll be right beside him because I can’t abandon my best friend. A best friend who I can barely recognize, and—”

“Bucky, he’s still your Steve.”

“I’m supposed to protect him!” Frosted silence pools into his heart as his breath comes in rattled gasps. His heart hammers against his ribs and he can hear hers, a gentle beat. “And I failed. So that’s the rest of my life; that’s what I’m going to do. Make up for every time I wasn’t there for him and every time I couldn’t stop him from getting hurt—”

“Steve’s changed. Even you can’t protect him from war,” she says and Bucky, with a humourless smile and darkness in his cold blue eyes, shakes his head.

“I can damn well try. If not me, who?” A hollow where his heart should be swallows him whole and he only sees the darkness of the Austrian factory, the vomit and blood after every session. The soft sobs as he whispers he can’t remember his ma’s face. Rebecca is nothing more than a fading memory. “I’m not letting this war take more from me than it already has.”

“Neither am I.” Her hands are folded in her lap and despite how desperately he wants her touch, he feels like he’s just seconds from falling apart. Sucking in a deep breath, he brings his shattered pieces together and silently tells her not to disrupt the broken glass. “If you spend your whole life protecting him, who protects you?”

“I don’t need protection.”

“Bucky.” Her sigh sweeps into his ears as she reaches for his arm and he jerks back, standing sharply. His knees shake and he feels the soreness in his feet as he meets her eyes. Her eyes glisten as she blinks against the fading dusk and he turns away to the tent exit. He barely takes a step before she pipes up again. “Does he know?” 

Turning around, he barely utters, “What?”

“What we went through. Does he know?”

“That’s not important.”

“Like hell it isn’t!” She storms up to him, face an effigy of wrath as she grabs his arm. Turning it over in her fingers, she pulls up his wrist so he is forced to stare at his own veins. They run, bulging and blue-grey, and he can hear his own blood flowing. “We got fucked over, Sergeant Barnes. You don’t even remember what your mother looks like and you say it isn’t important?”

“It’s war! I’ve been gone too long.” Bucky rips his arm from her grasp as something in him slants.

“I never forgot my brothers’ faces until I went in there.” She throws an arm out, points to some distant corner of their tent but her glazed eyes do not stray from his. “Sometimes, I can’t even remember their names and you’re no different, and right now, it isn’t about Steve. This is about you and what happened to us back there!” 

Heat bubbles underneath his skin and when she does not speak, it’s almost as an avalanche rushes through his body. “I’m trying to forget what happened to me in there! I have a job to do and I can’t… I can’t be distracted because that will get Steve killed. People die every day and I’ve gotten used to it, but I won’t let my best friend be someone I have to leave behind in No Man’s Land. I thought you of all people would understand.” Sticky, humid air clouds his face and his vision blurs as he collapses to his knees. Hands immediately land on his shoulders, slide down his back as he’s pulled into a spine-crushing embrace.

“Oh, Bucky, I do,” she whispers. She pulls him back, cups his face and the suppleness of her skin causes his shuddering breaths to hitch. He sucks in a huge gasp as he continues to crumble. He slips between her fingers as he desperately tries to pull himself together but with her every swipe of his tears, he only shatters. “I promise I do. Just let me take care of you when you can’t do it anymore.” Her thumbs brush underneath his eyes as his hands on her hips squeeze and she lets out a gentle sigh. “You can fall apart on me. I promise I’ll protect you.”

“It’s not worth it. I’m… I’m… not worth it.”

“It’ll always be worth it if it’s you,” she promises and his eyes close. Another rush of tears spill over her fingers as gentle lips press between his eyebrows. “Besides—” Her voice whispers over his skin as she tucks her chin in to look at him. His forehead presses into her sternum as he melts into her body. His hiccuping breaths shake his shoulders jerking as she runs a soothing hand through his hair, down his back—“if you’re not worth saving, then neither am I.”

At this, Bucky raises his tear stained face to his angel and shakes his head, stubborn as they come. His heart slows in his head and cool wind kisses his wet cheeks. Their lips almost brush and his breath shudders in his throat.

“I will always save you no matter what.” 

She smiles, a soft exhale that could almost be a laugh puffing against his cheek as he shifts against her, sitting up straighter. She pulls back, wiping her hand along his jacket and he sniffs, a small, watery grin cracking over his face.

“You’re quite the romantic, Sergeant Barnes.”

“How many times do I gotta tell you? My name’s Bucky.” He can hear her heart quiver as he touches her face, spreads his fingers along her cheek and gently guides her closer until he can taste the smoke and lime that clings to her skin. He can hear her breathe his name, a gentle sigh before their lips meet, and he thaws underneath her touch. 

Her fingers brush his jaw as he closes his eyes and the feel of her mouth, chapped and warm against his, is ecstasy.

Their first kiss is everything and nothing Bucky has ever dreamed it would be. A desperate clash of tears and lips and teeth, yet softer than anything he’s ever known, he knows one thing is certain in his life now.

He has found the love of his life, and only Death will do them part.

.

The wind is knocked out of him the minute he sees her. His angel has managed to steal his heart all over again and Bucky wonders how he’s going to survive the night when his eyes are glued to her. Clean, soft, and radiant, she stands there almost bashfully, waiting for him to notice her. Her smile splits her face as he remembers to close his mouth.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she greets politely as she looks up at him. In her heels, she looks as if she could rule the world. Bucky barely manages to greet her before clearing his throat. His cheeks pool with heat and he looks down at his shoes, running a hand through his hair. “Where are you off to?” 

“Captain Rogers invited me to the Whip and Fiddle for an important meeting.”

“How strange. I was invited as well.” She grins as he extends an arm and she leans over to kiss the corner of his mouth. Bucky’s cheeks flare up and he turns to look at her. She loops her hand through, holding him close as they walk down the street and Bucky places a hand on top of hers along his arm.

“Who’s the lucky man?” he asks as if he isn’t walking the most gorgeous dame in all of London to some bar a few minutes away for their first date. 

“A very brave soldier,” she replies. Her heat seeps through his jacket and he turns to look at her, trying to come up with a compliment adequate enough to express how much he adores her. “You look very handsome, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Can’t compare to you, angel.” Her smile becomes tender under his gaze and she pauses just outside the pub. Inside, the frosted glass glows with the heat and with every swing of the door, merry singing and the beginnings of Dum Dum telling a story sweep into the cool air. Words pound at the back of his teeth as he stares down at her, looking so pretty in the warm lamplight of London. “How’s your family? Did you have a chance to see them?”

“Mum’s doing okay. Dad was out with my brother so I was a nice surprise to come home to.”

"It sounds like a warm welcome, doll.”

“You know, they would love to meet you, too.” He blinks, hand stalling from where he’d been brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I told them about you, if that’s alright…” 

“They know about what happened to us?” His voice is tight, just the mere mention of it burning down his arms. 

“No.” She looks guilty and Bucky wonders if the weight on her shoulders has always been there. “Mum’s got enough on her plate with my brother leaving and all. He’s, he’s actually travelling to Oxford soon so it was necessary for me to say goodbye and Dad… I don’t think he can take it. He’s lost two sons already.”

Bucky runs his thumb down her cheek, planting a tender kiss against her forehead. 

“When this war is over, we’ll find them,” he promises and she smiles, pressing her lips eagerly against his. He can’t help the huge grin that spreads across his face and he chuckles into her mouth as she plants her hands on his cheeks and holds him there, kissing him again and again. “Give me a chance to show you Brooklyn ‘n’ Shelbyville, where I was born, Coney Island… We can take the Railroad and everything.” 

“Too many places for a time like this,” she teases, pulling back. “First the Whip and Fiddle, then I show you around London and then we go to America.”

“Deal.” She smiles up at him, like they’re not in the middle of war, like they haven’t just escaped prison with blue serum running through their veins, like they’re still the boy and girl they were before.

“Let’s go in. Steve’s probably waiting,” she whispers, turning to look at the warm, fogging glass. Bucky turns, glaring at the door. Suddenly, meeting Steve doesn’t seem so inviting. Her hands trail down his face and rest on his chest as she sighs longingly. “I don’t want you to go back in there.”

Turning around again, he takes her hand from his chest and kisses her fingers tenderly. “I’m staying right here for a while longer,” he murmurs, knowing that this is not what she meant at all.

A cool chill sweeps between their bodies and Bucky tucks her into his body, wrapping her in the tightest embrace he can manage. She’s all supple muscle, carbon bone, and she’s taller than before yet all Bucky can think of is protecting her.

I love you. I love you. I love you, he thinks, eyes closing as he rests his chin in her hair. He can feel her heart beating like a soft drum through her back as she drags her hands up his shoulders. 

“You’re the only one who understands,” she whispers into the wind, yet his ears still catch it all. She buries her face into his chest, her fingers digging into the ridges of his back as he brings a hand to cradle the back of her head. “Please don’t leave me.”

His eyebrows furrow together and he doesn’t even feel the wind bite at his skin until his fingers turn purple. His chest aches and everything inside him cracks like glass under pressure. Winding, and winding, long and elegant in a catastrophic kind of way.

Never, never, never. I love you more than anything. How can I ever leave you? He wants to scream it into the night, tell her until she understands. 

I love you, I love you, I love you.

.

“A zip line?” she says dubiously, the snow dotting her hair as she sits by the fire. Heat and frost play at her face, bathing it half in white light, and half in blazing orange. “It doesn’t sound very enticing.”

Bucky forces a smile and kisses her for what he doesn’t know is the last time. She tastes like beef jerky and mountain water, and he can hear Morita making some wise crack about how gooey the Sarge is being. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“I always notice,” she retorts.

It sounds an awful like a confession Bucky can’t bear to hear right now.

.

They leave at dawn. 

The last thing he does is slip an envelope into her rucksack and he prays that he’ll be back before she can open it.

.

When his fingers slip, there’s a moment in time that freezes. He teeters on the edge of life and death, and he can see Steve’s outstretched hand just before his.

And then he falls and a million and one thoughts fly from his head.

All he can think of is broken promises and the Coney Island lights. The wind that rips away at him is like the way the Cyclone had tossed him through the air, safely bound by the metal bars, but this time, there is nothing holding him back. 

He throttles through the air, collides with something sharp and jagged before rolling down, through snow and ice, and his vision swims in inky black as he struggles to breathe. His lungs are paralyzed and his skull splits open as he tumbles over and he thinks the blood is coming from his head? Or maybe it’s his nose or his throat or how can he still think with all of winter’s wrath surrounding him? His head is buried in snow as he tries to remember what it was like to breathe again.

Snow falls softly around him, landing on his face like tiny kisses and it is almost as if his heart leaps to his throat. Blood bubbles at his lips, his whole body wracking with agony. He sinks into the snow, ice the pillow beneath his head. It dribbles warmly down his cheeks, leaking from the corner of his lips and the snow melts in the heat of his essence.

Wind caresses his face gently and he swallows a thick glob of blood that catches halfway as a sob pushes its way up his throat. 

He wonders how long he will stay here, broken and dying, until Death comes to collect him, but then something grabs his boot and his eyes jerk open.

Wolves. Wolves will eat me alive, he muses, too tired, too dizzy from pain to fight. The blurry grey-blue canvas above him stretches above him, brighter than anything he remembers seeing, as he raises his head blearily. Men take him by the legs and pull, something he can barely feel as his bones click into place.

“Sergeant Barnes?”

“Angel?” he mumbles beneath his breath, eyes rolling back into his head as it slams back into the snow and he thinks he can hear her laugh echo in the ravine above him. “I’m sorry…” 

For every promise I’ve broken, for every day I won’t be here, for every time I never told you I loved you. For loving you and leaving you. For leaving you. For loving you.

I’m sorry.

#fic: amaranthine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes series #40s!bucky #bucky barnes fanfic #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier fanfiction #the winter soldier imagine #the-omni-princess1kwritingchallenge #my writing

[notyetneedcoffee]

Crossroads

Answer to Lexi’s 1k @the-omni-princess Challenge! Congrats!

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader; some Steve x Peggy; very Steve-centric

Warnings: ANGST and loads of it! 

Author’s note: This is my AU of Steve’s final Pym jump from End Game

____________________

The silence reminded him of the nights during the War. After the raging battle, even the animals and bugs refused to reveal their whereabouts. Although tonight he wondered if even the forest mourned Tony Stark. Steve Rogers sat alone in the middle of a glade not too far from the cabin Tony had called home. He tried to sleep, attempted to rid himself of the bone-weary exhaustion, but his mind would not shut down.

He knew everyone assumed his withdrawal, his moodiness and pain, stemmed from the battle and loss. A part of him felt immense guilt that they should be right, but they weren’t. After all these years of war on various scales, he felt the pain of loss differently. It just was a fact of life.

What spun his mind into a maelstrom of conflicted thoughts, tore his gut up with guilt, was something completely personal. Every option his highly strategical brain considered ended in pain and suffering for people he loved. Every option terrified him.  

He’d seen Peggy.  

It’d only been a moment, but seeing her young and vibrant sent his world spiraling. She wasn’t ravaged by age and Alzheimer's. As strong and lovely as the picture he carried with him, but in the flesh. Every missed opportunity and regret hit him all at once. It pulled at his heart, making him want to hold her like the awful pain of the years never happened.  

The threat of Thanos did allow him to think about it. So, it just took up residence in mind.  

Then there was the battle.  

Those once lost were back. Sam in his ear. Bucky fought his way to his side.  

He’d seen you.  

Among the chaos, with your beautiful face set in grime determination, he caught a glimpse of you battling your way through the aliens. Fierce and powerful, you looked exactly the way you had the day he’d lost you in Wakanda. All the nights of passion, the solace and trust found in one another, lit his chest. Seeing you made him fight harder, renewed his strength.  

The war was won. Friends were lost. Bodies were battered. Steve found himself holding you, but unable to do much more. Those who were lost tried to fathom being gone for so many years, to comprehend the changes to the world. You clung to him and wept. He’d missed you. He felt such relief having you in his arms. 

Guilt ate him alive.  

“You look like you’re planning all kinds of stupid.” Bucky’s voice came out of nowhere, making Steve jump.

“I’m just thinking.” Steve sighed.  

“Like I said, stupid.” Bucky sat down on the log next to him so close their thighs touched.  

Steve laughed without any humor. He felt tears push against the back of his eyes. Bucky’s arm wrapped around his shoulder. His head fell forward into his hands. He was exhausted.

“Rhodes filled me in on a few things.” Bucky squeezed his buddy’s shoulder. “Sounds rough, particularly for you and Natasha.”

“God. Nat.” Steve choked. He looked up at the stars, sniffing back reluctant tears. “I am so tired, Buck. I don’t have any fight left me. None.”

Something inside Bucky crumbled. He knew Steve meant it. That kid who got up time and time again after getting his ass beat, ready to go again because it was the right thing to do finally couldn’t. He just nodded, squeezing his friend tighter, not trusting his own voice.  

“Part of me just wants to go back to a simpler time, make different choices.” Steve whispered, hating himself a little for saying it. “Not take on the fight, not take on the pain, and just live a simple life.”

“Yeah,” Bucky cleared his tight throat. “Although even when we were kids, things weren’t so simple.”

A long silence stretched before Steve moved away a little. “Not talking about when we were kids. I mean actually going back.”

Bucky froze. No.  

Steve glanced at his friend, the hurt look staring back doubled the guilt eating away at his gut. “I saw her, Buck. Peggy.” He returned his focus to the stars. “I never stopped loving her.”

Torn between wanting to hit him and wanting to shake him, Bucky stood up. He paced, stopped, and paced some more. Steve stared at his hands in silence. Finally, Bucky stopped in front of him. His words were tight, ground out through clenched teeth. “Never mind me, or Sam, or anyone else on the team... what about Y/N? You don’t love her anymore?”

“Of course, I love her.” Steve’s face crumbled.  

“So you’re just going to abandon her?” Bucky snapped.

“She’s strong, a fighter...”

Buck cut him off. “Yeah and Carter was always such a pushover.”

Steve pushed his hands through his hair. His voice broke, cracked with pain and exhaustion. “I can’t do it anymore. Bucky, please. I can’t fight anymore battles. I don’t have it in me. I’ve given up my whole life for everyone else. Always. I just...” A sob ripped free, and he stuffed his fist in his mouth.  

“Pal,” Bucky put his hand on Steve’s head. “If anyone deserves to have a happy ending, it’s you.” Tears of his own slipped down his face. “You know I have your back, no matter what. If never seeing you again means that you’ll be able to have a happy life, then there’s no way I would hold you back. I’d hate it, but it would be worth it if I knew you were happy.”

“Buck.” Steve sniffed. “I don’t mean to...”

“Just be sure before you tell Y/N. I mean be absolutely positive.” Bucky’s face went hard. “Don’t break her heart and then change your mind. I swear I will break your neck.”

“What if I don’t know?” Steve whispered.  

“Then don’t say anything to anyone.” Bucky sighed. “If you don’t come back, then I’ll explain it.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not. I’m telling you, that’s how it should go.”

“Buck,” Steve stood. They embraced, hugging tight. “Love you, punk.”

“You too, jerk.” Bucky squeezed him hard, praying to whatever powers that be that he would not have to tell everyone who loved Steve too that he would never be coming home.  

__________________________

“Don’t do anything stupid ‘til I get back” Steve tried to smile. ‘I still don’t know. Don’t say anything.’

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Bucky forced a smile, too. ‘Be sure, whatever you do.’

Steve stepped up on the platform. The first jump would take him to Asgard. 

Thor gave him very specific instructions on how to return the Aether. Steve chuckled when Thor told him to put the hammer down anywhere, but on a window sill would be best... less damage to the building when he called it.  

He arrived in a cavernous hall, surrounded by stone and gold. Unfamiliar scents filled the air, pleasant and rich, but he could not place them. Steve heard footsteps and ducked behind a corner. The person stopped close. He waited, silent.

“You must be a very close friend of my son’s.” A woman spoke. “Come out. I won’t raise the alarm.”

Steve cautiously stepped into the open. She was regal in every sense of the word. “Why not?”

“You are able to wield Mjolnir. It’s no small feat.” She smiled gently. “He was here earlier. The future is not going to be kind to Thor.”

He swallowed, taking a deep breath. Thor confessed to him privately he’d seen Frigga. Now seeing her for himself, Steve understood why. He didn’t even know her and he wanted to tell her everything even if he knew he couldn’t. She just radiated a calm, a peace he wanted to drown in.  

“It’s not kind to any of us.” Steve sighed. “I have to return this to Dr. Foster. I don’t want to, but I can’t risk not doing it.”

“Alright.” She smiled sadly. “Let me see what I can do to help. Follow me.”

He did, without question.  

“I don’t want to know what is going to happen, what has happened to you. It has something to do with the Infinity Stones, though doesn’t it?” Frigga glanced sideways at Steve. His jaw clenched. She slipped her hand into his elbow and grinned when his arm instinctively came up to properly escort her. “Did my son tell you anything of my power, my upbringing?”

“Thor say you’re the kindest and wisest person he’s ever known.” Steve answered. “You taught Loki much of his magic and that you see things, the truth of things.”

“That’s one way of putting it. I can follow of the strings of destiny.” She patted his bicep. “I can tell that you, like my son, stand at a crossroads. Perhaps the most important one of your life, because this one is a decision all your own. I don’t know what, but I know it’s deeply personal and profoundly painful.”

Steve stopped, staring wide eyed into her calm face.

“I find when I cannot unravel the answer, I lean on wise counsel.” Frigga led him on. “I may not be the best counsel for you. There is an Ancient One more familiar with your ways that is close to where you call home. Before you do anything else, I would seek out her.”

Steve’s mind jumped to the encounter Banner told him about with the woman who gave him the Time Stone. “Do you know her?”

“No, not personally.” Frigga smiled. “But she protects not just Midgard but all of Yggdrasil. Those of us with the ability definitely know of her.”  

They stopped before a large door ornately carved. “Give me a few moments, then come in.”

Steve waited, listening intently. Nothing but the distant sounds of the city reached his ears. Finally he pushed open the door, peering inside. Frigga stood over the sleeping form of Jane. She waved him over assuring him that the little mortal would not feel a thing, nor would she remember. He felt a little sick when he injected the Aether back into Foster.  

He stood back, staring into Frigga’s kind eyes before deciding to change his plans. Reprogramming the controls for the jump to take him to New York instead of Morag. Extending a hand, Steve took her small hand in his. “Thank you, for everything.”

“When you see my son, tell him to take care of himself.” She pulled him close and kissed his cheek. “Take care of yourself, too.”

Steve nodded, unsure how he would do it, but willing to try.  He stepped back and pressed the button.  

________________________

The jump dropped him on the roof of a building. He looked around, seeing the Chitauri battle not far away. His stomach dropped, the memories of the losses still keen. Another day when everything changed. A battle won, but the world’s innocence died. Aliens were real, and they were as bad as people ever imagined.

“It seems as if Dr. Banner was true to his word.” A calm voice spoke.

“I’ve come to return the stone to you.” Steve turned to see a small, bald woman in eastern clothing. Although nothing like the Norse Goddess, she radiated a similar calm...a powerful presence, like a monolith unmoving among the storm.  

With a wave of her hands, the green stone rose from its container and return to its home in the Eye hanging around her neck.  

“Captain,” She stared at him in a manner that left him feel exposed. “Walk with me.”

She turned, entering the building. Steve followed. Inside the temperature dropped, not uncomfortably. The dim light reflected off the well-polished wood. Cases held artifacts and books lined the shelves.  The air smelled spicy, like raw incense.

“Time is an interesting thing. It is complex.” She spoke melodically as she wove through the glass cases. “It is linear, yet not. It is set, yet holds immeasurable permutations. What is not complex is our journey through it. With every moment, every experience, we change. We incorporate all that we learn as time passes, yet if we move through time we do not unlearn what we know.”

Steve felt his brow pull together. “I suppose we are all molded by our experiences.”

She paused at an hourglass, looking at sands drop a few at a time. “I think you are looking to unlearn what time has taught you. I’m afraid you cannot dial back who you are as easily as rolling back the hands of a clock. Somethings are too powerful to unmake, some threads of who we are cannot be broken.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Steve frowned. He just wanted to rest, to have his turn to be happy.

“You are tired, Captain.” She stepped closer, arms folded behind her back. For all of the intensity, she looked upon him kindly. “We often cannot see clearly through weary eyes.”  

His eyes closed, feeling the burn of frustrated tears again. Steve ground his teeth together. “I am.” He sighed. “And I have a lot more to do before my mission is complete.”

“I would offer you safe place to rest, but I don’t think you will accept.” The edge of her mouth tipped up with a hint of a smile.

“No.” Steve took a deep breath. “I have a long way to go.”

“Very well,” she led him to a large round window where they could see the battle raging in the distance. Turning, she placed a hand on his chest over his heart. “You are a good man, Steve. Through trials and strife, you have remained true to yourself. What’s more, you have evolved. You’ve grown.” A calm smile spread across her face. “Like so many things in the universe, the more you grow, the more you realize how small you are. The more you know, the more you realize you have yet to learn. It can be burdensome, exhausting. But it can also be an exhilarating adventure if we can see it through fresh eyes.”  

Steve knew he should be contemplating her words more deeply. He knew he should heed Frigga’s words and seek this woman’s counsel. However, it just caused the pain in his head to increase. He didn’t want to consider the cryptic meaning behind this woman’s words. He wanted to fold Peggy in his arms, in a simpler place, in a simpler time, and just sleep for days.

The strange woman stared at him, making him feel like she could see straight through him to question his inner most desire without ever saying a word. A defensive urge surged, but he fought it back. Strange called her the Ancient One. Frigga said she defended the world on this plain and others. Getting defensive over her stare, especially when he carried so much doubt was foolish. 

That small smile touched her lips again. “Be well, Steve. May your path eventually lead you to happiness.”

Steve stared out the window at the battle once more, another memory rising to the surface. Out there, among the populace running for their lives, you were helping Clint after he crashed through a window. You helped him evacuate the building and fight off invaders. It was the turning point that brought you into his life. It was the day you decided to give up your job at the FBI to join the Avengers Initiative.  

Guilt twisted his insides, and he choked out “thanks” before turning to leave. He had to return the scepter to Stark Tower. He stopped when she called out his name once more.  

“At least allow me to help you get to your next destination safely." She held out one hand and formed a circle with the other. A portal opened.  

He could see the corner of the elevator banks in the lobby of Stark Tower. Steve’s mouth opened slightly. Did this woman really know what he was thinking? It was exactly where he wanted to intercept the Hydra Agents. “Thank...thank you.”

She gave him a nod, and he stepped through.

_______________________

Returning the Power Stone turned out to be thankfully uneventful. Steve hoped, as he climbed the mountainside on the Vormir, that the Soul Stone would be equally quiet. He did not see anyone. All of the intelligence proved out, no cities or even life forms to be seen.  

“I never thought I would see you again.”  

Steve brought his shield up, shooting with the other hand. The black clad figure only looked down at himself, unmoved as if the bullets passed straight through. Johann Schmidt laughed, red skulled face cracking in a grotesque mirth.  

“Captain.” He held out both hands. “You cannot kill me. I’m already in purgatory.” 

“What?” Steve didn’t relax his stance.  

“I made the mistake of trying to control a Stone and have been paying the price.” 

“You’re...” Steve swallowed past the vice grip around his throat. Clint’s words echoing in his mind about the red floating guy who made them choose. “You were here when Natasha sacrificed herself for the Soul Stone.”

“Yes. A soul for a soul.”

“I’ve brought it back.” Steve strode forward, fury growing with each step. “I want her back.”  

“Ah. Interesting.” Schmidt’s red face tilted sideways, studying him. “Her soul would have worked for you as well.”

“A soul for a soul. That’s what you said.” Steve growled. “I want her back.”

“Yes, because you are tied to her, returning the stone will release her.”  

Steve gasped.

“Though not the way you wish, I think.”

Cap tried to grab him but got a fist full of black mist. “What do you mean?”

“If you return the stone, her soul will return to your life somehow, though not in the form you knew.”

“Like, what? Reincarnation?” Steve frowned.  

“No. Yes.” Schmidt shrugged. “The souls that weave together over time touch and change over lifetimes. If you return the stone, her soul will be free to join the tapestry again.”

“How?”  

“Throw it into the abyss.” The black spectral hand pointed to the edge.

Steve approached the edge, acutely aware this was the last place Natasha was alive. His breath grew shallow. The pain of her loss stabbed his chest. He never properly mourned Nat, his sister in every way but blood. He trusted her, loved her, would never be the same without her.

Finding himself looking down into a deep chasm, the bottom obscured by black fog, Steve threw the stone. He gave a silent prayer that she would be free, would touch his life again. As the stone disappeared, a golden orange shaft of light shot skyward. Brilliant, like the burning of the setting sun over the desert. The light spread radiating heat. Then vanished.  

Steve looked down to see a solid stone floor far below in the chasm. He stepped back from the edge with a sharp intake of breath. Then it hit him. Faint, but undeniable, Steve could smell her. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. Natasha. Another breath and it was gone.

He turned around, remembering Schmidt, but didn’t see him anywhere. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps Nat’s soul was free and that somehow, someway, it would touch his again. The thought brought a little bit of warmth back.

There was only one stone left to return. Steve set the controls for New Jersey 1970.

______________________  

Returning the Tesseract was simple now that Steve knew his way around the secure sections of the Army base. He made his way through the halls towards Peggy’s office, nerves moving him forward, but having no idea what he would say. The lights inside the office were office, creating both a surge of anxiety and relief.  

Making certain no one noticed, he slipped inside. In the dim light he saw the photo of himself on the desk. Not after the procedure, but from when they’d first met. It warmed his heart that this was the version of himself she chose to remember.  

He set it back down and looked around... and froze.

He did not notice the far wall last time. It was full of framed photographs and certificates. A large photo of Peggy and her family held a place of honor in the center. Her husband was a kind looking man, her children were beautiful. They looked to be young teens in the photo.  

Another photo showed her and her daughter when she was a baby. Another of her son in his little league gear. Peggy and her husband stood beside Howard Stark and John F. Kennedy in one picture. 

Certificate and diplomas memorializing Peggy’s hard work and advancement were presented side by side with her family. She showed everyone she could fight the good fight and what she was fighting for...all on one wall of photographs. 

All the memories Peggy told him about. 

Steve found himself sliding to the floor, back against a file cabinet and hand squeezed tightly over his mouth. He wanted to scream. All her hard work, everything Peggy did for the world, and he hadn’t even considered it. She wouldn’t give up. If he showed up in 1945, she wouldn’t understand wanting to hide from the world. Even if she agreed, she would never do any of these things. 

His eyes locked closed as he fought back a sob. It was all a foolish dream. There was no going back. The Ancient One spoke the truth. He may be able to go back in time, but he can’t undo what time did to him. He was not the naive soldier Peggy knew. Steve choked. He felt battered, and bitter, far too cynical to even pretend to be that man again.  

Still, every fiber in his being screamed to hold her. The tears she shed every time he visited her in the nursing home killed him a little bit. He wanted his dance.  

Turning to the filing cabinet at his back, Steve quietly dug through the files until he found what he needed. An old address and an old date.  

_______________________

Steve reached the house just as the sun went down. The curtains were open and he could see Peggy moving back and forth from the living room to the kitchen. His palms were sweating.  A brand new 1947 Buick drove by as he crossed the street to the front steps. His heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears as he knocked on the door.

Peggy answered with a smile, but her eyes went huge and filled with tears. Her hand covered her mouth.  

“Hey, Doll.” Steve reached out, taking her by the elbow and stepping inside. “It’s okay.”

“St-Steve.” Peggy breathed. He nodded. Her hand came out and touched his chest, his face. Tears fell. She stepped forward and he wrapped his arms around her.  

Steve sighed, holding her closed, breathing her in. Some deep empty gash began to stitch closed. They stood there for a long time before Peggy’s curiosity grew. “How?”

“We need to talk.” Steve’s fingers traced over her back. “Can I – Can I just hold you for a minute more?”

She nodded against his chest.  

“I’m going to tell you something that’s pretty hard to believe.” Steve buried his face in her hair. “And I’m going to ask you to never tell anyone about it. Ever.”

“Steve,” She gave a tearful chuckle. “You’re back from the dead. You’ve got hard to believe covered.”

He pulled back, cupping her face in one large hand. Steve’s mouth covered hers, soft and sweet. Tentative, Peggy kissed him slowly. He found himself instantly conflicted. Relishing in the simple kiss, one he only dreamed of having, he simultaneously missed the ravenous intensity of the kisses he shared with you.  

“How? Steve? What happened?” Peggy pushed back.  

“Best we sit down.” Steve led her to the sofa. He took her hands in his.  

Steve didn’t know where to start. He’d thought about it, considered all the best options, but there still did not seem like any good options. He turned to face Peggy more directly. His brows drew together.  

“What happened after the crash?” Peggy asked.

“I was frozen... for about 70 years.” Steve stared at their joined hands.  

“What?” She breathed.

“I’m - I’ve come back from, well, a long time from now.” Steve looked into her wide eyes. “I can’t explain how. I shouldn’t even be here. I just had to...” He bit back his words, fighting to control himself.  

Peggy let out a slow breath. “That means... oh Steve. It would be a completely different world. Everyone you know. I’m so sorry.”

“No,” He shook his head. “I, um, found friends...people that became like family. But everything is so...” Steve’s face pinched, tears threatening to fall. He whispered. “I just really missed... I wanted to have that dance.”

Her hand ghosted over his face and he opened his eyes. “What happened? I’ve never seen you look so...”

Tears fell as he finished for her. “Tired. I’m tired, Peggy. I’ve fought, and fought, and I don’t think I can do it anymore. I’ve seen things, battled things, that make the Nazis look like pussycats. There’s no more clear right and wrong. There’s no more good answers.”

“Stevie.” Tears fell down her cheeks matching his. Her fingers stroked through his hair. “I’m so sorry. But if you have this ability, this technology, then can you keep these things from happening?” She watched him shake his head. “Too easy, huh? What about your friends?”

“Lost some of the best. Nat, Tony.” Steve’s face crumpled. “Tony is, was, Howard’s son.”

Peggy’s hand covered her mouth as Steve went on.

“He was brilliant, Peggy. Smarter than Howard ever imagined. He sacrificed everything. Now his little girl...”

“She has you, right?”

Shame flushed fresh over Steve. He’d never even consider Morgan. “Yeah, she has a lot of us. Every one of the Avengers will look out for her.”

“Avengers?”

“Um,” Steve frowned. “We’re a collection of highly skilled, gifted, agents of a sort. We fight the bad guys.”

“And there’s a lot of Avengers.” Peggy asked, still smoothing his hair.

“More that I would have thought possible when we first started.” Steve nodded.

Peggy held his face in her hands. “You are always the one to lay on the wire, to lead the charge. Steve, maybe you need to let your friends fight some battles, too.”

“They do...”

“Steve. Maybe you can let them fight a few without you.” Peggy’s worried expression finally registered in his tired mind. “You don’t always have to be the one leading the charge.”

He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against hers. “Always so smart. You’re going to do amazing things.”

“Don’t tell me.” Peggy placed a finger over his lips. “I want to be surprised.” He sighed. “We’re not going to meet again, are we?”

“You said you want to be surprised.” Steve whispered. His lips trailed over hers again. She pulled back before the kiss could deepen. “Never stopped lovin’ you, though.” He confessed.

“Me too.” Peggy cried. She sniffed. “I should let you know, though, there’s a very good man who wants to marry me.”

Steve sat up a little straighter, wiping his face before give her a smile. “You love him?”

“Yeah,” She wiped her own tears. “Although, I’m making him wait. There’s things I want to do first.”

He laughed. “That’s my girl.”

She laughed as well, taking his hand again. “Even though you’re out there somewhere, and I’m not going to have you in my life,” Peggy swallowed hard, “I’m so happy you’re still alive and have people who care about you.”

Steve stared at her for a long time. “Do you think I could have that dance before I go?”

____________________

You stepped up between Bucky and Sam when Bruce announced that Steve missed the return time. Sam looked confused, but the look on Bucky’s face made your heart sink. He knew something. You took his hand.  

“You came?” He asked.  

“Tried to get here in time to see him off but I was held up.” You chewed your lower lips. Pulling him away from the others, you dropped your voice. “He was really distracted, hurting, before he left.”

Bucky nodded.  

“So was I.” You squeezed his hand harder. “God, Buck, I have the worse feeling. But I don’t know what I’m thinking right now. With everything that happened, learning about what we missed, losing Vis and Nat and Tony. Feeling like shit and now finding out...ugh, I’m just losing my mind right now.” Big tears filled your eyes.

He took you by the shoulders. He did not want to say anything, not yet. Steve just missed the return time a minute ago. “Finding out what, Doll?”  

You reached into your back pocket and handed him your phone, a readout open on the screen. He looked it over carefully, twice. You cried as his eyes lifted back to you.

Wrapping you in his arms, Bucky rubbed your back. “Just breath, okay? When did you...”

“Just now. It’s why I’m late.” You held tight to his chest. “I should have done it earlier. What something happens and Steve...”

“Bucky!” Sam shouted.

You both looked up to see Steve walking toward you all from the lake. You felt Bucky take a deep breath. You let out a small sob. He placed his hand at the small of your back. “Come on.”

Sam was just pulling away from a hug when you come closer. Steve looked at you, seeing the tears in your eyes. “Buck?”

“No. She’s got news.”

“Sweetheart,” Steve pulled you closer, thumbing away a tear at the corner of your eye. You pulled him closer to kiss him. Your lips pulling at his lower lip, before your tongue slid along his, drawing a low moan from him.  He pulled you close, burying his face in your hair. He whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” You pulled back some.

“Being an idiot.” He sighed. “A tired, stupid, idiot.”  

Steve stood up straighter. “I need to tell you guys something. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I never thought I’d say this but, I’m stepping down.”

“What the – wha?” Sam sputtered.

Steve stepped away from you and gripped Sam’s shoulder. Every bit of anguish showed in his eyes. “I can’t do it, man. Not now. These last years, these battles, just took all I had left. I’ve thought about it.” He held out his shield. “I want you to hold on to this.”

“You’re full of shit.” Sam balked.  

“No.” Steve shook his head. “You do what I do, remember? It’s you.”

Sam hefted the shield. Bucky smiled. “Doesn’t look like complete crap.”

“Piss off.” Sam laughed.

“So, what are you going to do, then?” Bucky asked Steve.

“It’s going to take a lot of work to just get things working across the world again. I’d like the Avengers to have a positive impact on the changes without having to resort to something like the accords.” Steve answered thoughtfully. “I think it’s work that would rejuvenate me. I’m tired of breaking things. I’d like to create something instead.”

“Sounds like you’ll be doing a lot of that.” Bucky’s smile spread ear to ear.  

“Buck,” You rolled your eyes him as you slipped under Steve’s arm. “Come with me.”  

You led Steve back toward the water. He held you close, voice tight. “Sweetheart, I’m really sorry. I’ve been...messed up. I should have been at your side every minute. I know I said it before, but my god, life just fell apart with you gone. Coming back, and everything is different, is such a shock. And it’s only been a few days...”

You stopped, facing him. “Steve, do you really mean you’re stepping down from missions?”

“Yeah, Sweetheart. I’ve got to.”

“Good. Me too.”  

Steve’s quizzical look caused you to pull your phone from your back pocket.  

“I didn’t make when you left out for your mission, because I was having this rerun. I didn’t think it was possible, but the test is conclusive.” You handed him the report.

Fresh tears filled Steve eyes, these washed away his pain and filled him with joy. He read the words again and again, pregnancy: positive. A bright smile met your own, he breathed out in awe. “I’m going to be a dad.”

You nodded as he swept you up in his arms and spun you around. He kissed you deeply, thoroughly. Finally, smiling against your lips, Steve said. “Love you. Thank you for being there for me, for being here for me. You and this little princess are everything to me.”

“Princess, huh?” You cuddled into him. “Already sure it’s a girl?”

“Just a hunch.” Steve kissed your hair, utterly confident in the turn he’d taken at the crossroad.

TAGS:

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#the-omni-princess1kwritingchallenge #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers

[openforjean]

You can do better

Alpha!Bucky Barnes x omega!reader

Warnings: I’m not sure how to rate this, but let’s just say mature (+18) cause it mentions the word cum, fwb

A/n: this is for @the-omni-princess’s 1k writing challenge, I’m so happy for you! You deserve it big time 💖 hope u like it:)

1995

You sit in your desk writing in your journal about your day while listening to ‘I wish’ by Skee-Lo, and you could smell the oak wood from...from Bucky Barnes’ house. The only alpha to make you cum, which Charlie doesn’t know about. He’s writing his motorcycle, you could hear it. You rolled your eyes and placed the pen in your journal and closed it. You got up from the chair and the motorcycle stopped. He’s in my driveway. You peek out your window and he’s getting off his bike. You quickly move back against the wall, he knows you’re home, he can smell you. Also, your window isn’t covered. 

He’s waiting for you to peek out the window, and you think just exactly that, so you go into his view.

He’s in a leather jacket, an all black outfit mostly. He’s leaning on his parked bike, you wave at him. He smiles at you as he runs his hand through his hair.

You open your window.

“Bucky, you can’t be here. I told you how he gets,” you say. He, is Charlie Rockland, your boyfriend. Or what he makes you call him, alpha. Bucky isn’t fond of Charlie. He isn’t the only one either. Bucky and you were friends with benefits and then Charlie came along, and that's the last of that.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with us being together?”

“He doesn’t want you coming over here to steal his omega,” you respond.

“He hasn’t claimed you. Wait-has he?” Bucky says in a panic tone.

“No.”

“Good! Now come down here, I have to give you something,” Bucky says cheerfully. You get up and roll your eyes and leave to go down there.

You had the knob in your hand and you stood contemplating your outfit, which was a tank top with long sweats. Your nose was basically breathing his scent in, you were drowning in it. You open the door and he’s standing there, just admiring you.

“What is it?” Bucky takes a long black velvet box out, and hands it to you. You stand in awe and your lips part, your eyes got to his crinkled ones. You take the box, it felt like, right.

“Bucky, you didn’t have to. Char-“

“Just open it doll,” he says. Anyone can tell he’s nervous right now. He was always so stubborn. You take the box and you open it. Is a silver chain with the word doll on it. Your heart flutters and you get the urge to kiss him, but Charlie. You look at Bucky and his face is sort of, sad, like he knows what you’re thinking. You give him a small smile and you hug him tightly. You don’t let go, his scent starts to rub off on you. You pull away with your hands on his forearms and his arms around you. You stare into each other’s eyes and his eyes drop to the necklace.

“Do you like it?” Did I mention he could be really stupid too?

“I love it...just like, I love you.” 

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#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #alpha bucky #alpha bucky smut #Alpha Bucky Barnes #alpha!bucky #alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan headcanons #the-omni-princess1kwritingchallenge

[thesoftdumbass]

a tale of two kitties

Bucky Barnes x reader

word count: nearly 3K

warnings: basically none. fluff. passive-aggressive names to call your pet. (also ididntproofreadthissorrynotsorry)

summary: when your kitten escapes your apartment, you find help from your neighbor Bucky to get her back

masterlist  

A nearly overflowing garbage bag and a shoebox or two full of junk held aloft, you make your way from your bedroom and into the main living space of your apartment. This morning, you had been overcome with the urge to clean and organize your closet after letting it go cluttered for far too long...which lead to completely reorganizing your entire bedroom and getting rid of unneeded items. Marie Kondo might just have a point with that whole ‘sparking joy’ thing.

Turning the doorknob while trying to balance the items in your hands, you open the door to the hallway and peer around before walking out. “I’ll be right back, Luna,” you call needlessly into the living room, your cat won’t even notice that you’re missing. Trying to close the door once outside your apartment proves a little bit difficult, as the trash bag keeps getting caught on the edge of the doorway. You shrug, deciding to just leave the door cracked. You’d only be gone for a minute, anyways.

As the trash chute is busy gulping down your garbage, a shadow slinks out your cracked doorway, going completely unnoticed by you down the hall.

Bucky curses as he practically tosses the sheet pan on top of the oven, heat seeping through the thin kitchen towel and into his hand. His ma would be disappointed, the orange-hued cake batter leaking over the sides of the jelly roll pan and collecting in the bottom of the oven. It looks like he’s going to have to wait until Christmas to have his granny’s homemade pumpkin roll. Sighing, Bucky looks down at the old-fashioned cookbook in front of him and hangs his head. Maybe he’ll make one more attempt at the recipe before giving up completely.

When the smoke alarm sounds into the silence of his apartment, Bucky decides that maybe he should wait a few minutes before the second attempt.

He presses the reset button on the smoke alarm in the door to the living room before rushing from room to room, opening windows but leaving the screens in place. The last thing to do is head to the front door, opening and nearly closing it a few times to try and clear the smoke that has started wafting throughout the dwelling. Somewhat satisfied, he leaves the door standing open to the hallway so the smell of smoke may dissipate. 

Bucky walks back into the kitchen, taking another look at the weathered and hand-written page of directions that he should be following. He sighs as he notices the amounts needed for baking soda and baking powder, having switched them the first time. That must be why the batter practically exploded, he realizes. Shaking his head at his own dumbassery, Bucky scrapes out the remaining cake mix before washing the bowl and readying the ingredients to start over.

Bucky is leveling a scoop of flour when a fuzzy paw reaches out and pats the hand holding the measuring cup, and he gently pushes it away with his free hand, pausing in his action. While he is used to cat paws intruding on his actions, the black fur of the paw reaching for his measuring cup is not what he is used to from his own white cat, Alpine. Turning from the bowl of dry ingredients and over to his left side, Bucky’s blue eyes are met with bright green, the curious gaze staring back igniting confusion in him. Nope, that’s definitely not Alpine.

Bucky sits down the measuring scoop of flour, dusting off his hands before slowly reaching towards the black kitten.

“Hey little kit, are you in the wrong apartment?”

Bucky’s brows furrow while he glances around his apartment, “how did you even get in-” and mentally facepalms as the ajar door catches his eye. “Right. Maybe that’s how.” 

A bright white lump of fur appears from out of nowhere, mrowwing loudly. “Oh, good morning, your highness,” Bucky rolls his eyes at his own cat, the spoiled princess that must have become curious and left her bed to check out the newcomer. 

Alpine moves towards the kitten, her pink nose sniffing at her new acquaintance. When the kitten goes to move away from the older cat, Bucky hears a jingling noise and finally notices a black collar that blends into the cat’s fur, finding a small metal tag attached.

“Luna, huh? Apartment 911,” Bucky reads aloud to himself. “I suppose I should help you find your way home, little Luna.” 

As he reaches out to pick up the kitten, she darts from within his grasp, and the next he sees of the kitten, her green eyes are peeking out from the darkness beneath his couch. “Later it is, then,” Bucky sighs, deciding to wash his hands and continue his adventures in baking. 

After clearing out the junk that had been cluttering your bedroom, it was an easy task to find a rightful place for everything and tidy up the rest of the room. You decide on no more cleaning or organizing tasks like that for a while as you walk into the kitchen, that had taken a lot out of you. Now all you want is to find a quick dinner and curl up on the couch with your cat. Speaking of…

You spoon some wet food from a can and into Luna’s food bowl, calling for the kitten to come eat. You wait a few seconds to hear the tinkling of the bell on her collar, the one that helps you know what the kitten is up to. There were a lot of instances before the belled collar of Luna tripping you up by darting under your feet.

Not hearing the telltale jingling, you start to wonder where your kitten may be hiding. Luna usually runs to the food bowls when you fill them, even if she waits to dig in, she takes a look to see what flavor food you’d given her. Now with no sign of the cat, your mind starts to race. 

“Oh, God…” Realization hits you, and you could almost hit yourself for not thinking of it earlier. “I left the door cracked when I took out the trash.” You sigh, “and now I’m talking to myself. Great!” 

You swear the empty apartment could hear the sarcasm in your voice at the end of your sentence. 

You sigh once more, muttering a curse or two beneath your breath before heading out into the hallway to search for the little troublemaker.

With the (hopefully successful) second cake baking away in the oven, awaiting being made into his granny’s pumpkin roll, Bucky takes a minute to relax, leaning into the back of his couch as a comedy plays in the background from the tv. A soft thump reaches his ears and Bucky looks to his left side, where the curious black cat is closely inspecting his prosthetic hand. He turns his hand so the palm is facing up, wiggling his fingers in an invitation to play. The kitten readily accepts, wiggling her butt for a few seconds before pouncing on his hand, landing on the forearm and trying to send a bite into the wrist. When the metal doesn’t give under her teeth, the cat settles for licking Bucky’s palm for a moment before finding her way into his lap, turning in circles before curling up in a ball, purring contentedly.

Alpine watches lazily from the arm of the couch while Bucky sits with the new kitten, right hand stroking from head to tail. The tinny sound of a bell faintly reaches Bucky’s ears, and he looks down at the bell on the kitten’s collar to make sure she’s still resting, a little puzzled until once again he hears the bell, this time accompanied by a woman’s voice.

“Luna!” 

At hearing what Bucky assumes is the voice of her owner, the kitten shakes herself out of her catnap, standing and stretching her spine idly. 

“Luna, where are you, you little gremlin?”

Bucky’s breath leaves him in a laugh at the not-so-scathing insult aimed at your pet. He looks down at Luna, scratching behind her ears with his left hand, the kitten preening under his attention and rubbing her face affectionately against the metal appendage. 

“I guess it’s time to get you home, huh, little one?” She lets out a mew, the disconnected sound is the first noise that Bucky’s heard from the kitten. The side of his mouth turns up in amusement, as he stands up, bringing the cat with him, cradled against his side and resting upon his arm. 

Bucky walks to the front door which he’d closed earlier and opens it slowly, looking out at the hallway to see if he can still catch the cat’s owner. When he sees you about to turn the corner down another hall, he speaks up quickly, not wanting your obviously distressed self to worry over your pet any longer.

“Miss?” You turn around when you hear a voice calling out, since you’re the only other person in the hallway you assume that they’re talking to you. The sight that meets you brings relief, but also a little bit of confusion. Before you can ask what your cat is doing in his arms, the man caught your attention before is talking. “Is Luna yours?”

Your face relaxes at the mention of the kitten, and you walk toward the man standing in the doorway to what you assume is his apartment. “She is. And I’m guessing this is where she disappeared to earlier?”

The man in front of you chuckles, the sound rich and filling you with warmth. “Yeah, I left the front door open and found this little munchkin in the kitchen just a few minutes later.” Oh goodness, his voice is just as beautiful as his laugh.

You shake your head at the cat, though affection fills you. You’re glad that she’s safe and didn’t get out a window somehow to the city below. As much as it pains you to leave behind what you are now noticing is maybe the most attractive man you’ve seen, you reach your hands out toward the black kitten in his arms. “Alright, Luna Tuna, it’s time to go home now.”

Upon seeing you reaching for her, Luna, the little shit, jumps down from her temporary perch and darts into the open doorway from which she and Handsome had originally come.

A sigh leaves your lips as you reach a hand up to your forehead, trying to quell the headache that you can feel coming. The stranger, your neighbor you suppose, laughs under his breath. “She has a habit of doing that, doesn’t she?”

You laugh tiredly, “she certainly does. I’m sorry about all this,” you gesture towards his apartment, indicating the cat. You introduce yourself, to the man quickly, stating that you live in the apartment 911 down the hall. “And you’ve already met Luna,” you add with humor back in your voice.

A smile lights up your neighbor’s face and you melt a little. “Yeah, I guess I have. I’m Bucky, apartment 904. Though I guess you can see that,” he adds, gesturing behind him to the apartment number on his door and rubbing a hand across the back of his neck almost nervously. Your head tilts curiously but you don’t say anything. “Come on in and we can try to get your cat back.”

Any apprehensions you might have had about going into a stranger’s apartment dissipate at the warm smile he sends your way, and you lead the way through the door, and Bucky follows, closing the door softly behind you. 

As you take a look around the apartment, searching for your wayward kitten, you take in the neat interior and tan leather furniture that gives the place a homey feel. Your eyes catch on reflective green ones, watching from behind a couch leg while you walk across the room. 

“Luna,” you coo to the cat, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth to try and lure her out. When she makes no move to leave her hiding spot, you drop your head into your hand, a tired sigh leaving you. 

Bucky speaks up next to you, and you jump a little, not having noticed him walking to your side. “There are some treats in the kitchen that my cat likes. If you want, I can grab a few and see if she’ll come out from under the couch,” Bucky offers and you smile, grateful for how much help he’s been.

“That would be great, thank you,” you nod, “I didn’t think to grab any before leaving my place.”

After Bucky returns with the treats, you both kneel in the floor a few feet away from the couch, calling to the kitten and offering treats. When she rolls onto her back to stretch and closes her eyes, you give up. 

Bucky stands to full height next to you and offers a hand up, which you accept. He plops down on the couch and pats the cushion next to him, indicating that you should sit. You happily accept and nearly groan at how comfortable the seat is. 

“Sometimes I feel like that cat’s sole purpose is to exhaust me,” you snort, reaching a hand up to rub at a spot on your forehead. “Thank you for helping me with her, though.”

“It’s no problem. And you can stay here as long as you like, there’s no rush to leave when she does come out. To tell you the truth, I think Alpine likes the company.”

At the mention of her name, the cat in question jumps down off the back of the couch and struts over to you, bright blue eyes checking you out. The plump white cat stations herself at your side, between yourself and her owner, looking up at you expectantly. You chuckle, stroking from the top of her head down to her tail a few times. Alpine settles onto your lap, purring loudly, relishing the touch of a new human.

You sit for a while, petting Alpine and talking with Bucky, learning about your neighbor and laughing at That 70’s Show in-between lulls in conversation. Eventually, Luna comes out of her hiding spot, climbing into her spot on your shoulder and burrowing herself in your neck. You chuckle at the kitten, the exasperation from earlier having left by now. “Hey gremlin, ready to head back now?” 

You go to pet Luna and she wraps herself around your arm, claws making an appearance in a sudden show of playfulness. You wrap your hand around her middle and bring her down from your shoulder and into both arms, sending a glare that doesn’t affect the cat in any way.

Bucky’s hand comes into view and scritches the kit between her ears, earning her attention...and teeth. You laugh at the surprised look on his face as his mouth opens in faux betrayal. “So that’s how it is, huh, Looney? I thought we were friends!”

You shake your head, a fond smile on your face. “I’m sorry about...all of this,” another light chuckle escapes you and Bucky smiles at the sound. “My cat is such a nuisance.”

“No it’s fine. Luna’s not a nuisance, she’s…” Bucky glances down at the cat currently gnawing on the meat of his flesh palm, “cute.”

“I guess there’s no denying that,” you admit to Bucky, and then to Luna, “let’s go, Tuna. Time to let Bucky and Alpine have their evening back.”

You stand and stretch, feeling as if you should get out of your cute neighbor’s hair. You thank him once again for his help, turning towards the door to head back to your own apartment. 

“I’m making a cake roll!” 

Bucky’s exclamation stops you and you turn back, an eyebrow raised and waiting for an explanation for the outburst. 

Bucky curses lowly, furrowing his eyebrows and running a hand through his hair in what must be a cute habit. “What I mean is,” he takes a deep breath, preparing the words in his head, “I was baking earlier. I’ve been craving my granny’s pumpkin roll and I thought I would try my hand at it. I mean I already ruined one but I tried again, and the second one should be done any minute now. When I checked it earlier it looked alright, and once I assemble it, I won’t be able to eat it all myself,”

“Bucky?” you interrupt with a giggle. The man is now rambling and you can tell that he’s trying to reach a destination with his words, so you figured you would try to help him along with it.

“Would you like to have coffee tomorrow? With-with cake?” He finally manages, looking up from where his gaze was previously on the floor and eyes landing on your smile, gentle amusement highlighting your features.

“I’d like that,” you say simply.

“And you can bring Luna too, you know, so the cats can hang out for a while,” he adds, not wanting to seem too eager to see you again.

“Of course, we wouldn’t want the cats to get too lonely,” you add, only a little bit of teasing in your voice.

“Of course,” he parrots, and the smile that reaches his lips is contagious and brighter than the sun.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Bucky.” You reach up on your tiptoes, pressing a brief kiss to his scruffy cheek. “I’m looking forward to coffee.” 

You take your leave, closing Bucky’s apartment door behind you and keeping a firm hold on the cat in your arms. Bucky watches you go, one hand resting over his chest in admiration before he brings both hands together in an excited clap, startling Alpine who meows in indignation. 

“Okay then…” a happy sigh escapes Bucky’s lips and he looks toward his kitchen as the oven timer goes off, “time to make a cake.”

author’s note: Did I insert my own cat into a fic? Yes I did, and I’ll do it again. Shamelessly. This was written for @the-omni-princess​ 1K writing challenge (congrats lovely!) and my prompt was Neighbor AU. I’m a little surprised I finished it AND posted in time, but here we are!

Thank you for reading! Please leave likes and comments/reblogs to let me know if you liked it 💙

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[that-damn-girl]

His

(Oneshot)

Pairing: Stucky (Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers) (MCU)

First part of  my collection of oneshots/drabbles for Stucky in the same universe in chronological order - His. Could be read as a STAND ALONE since ‘His’ is NOT a series.

Type: Fluff, mutual pinning, best friends to lovers trope.

Words: 3800+

Summary: Steve couldn’t grab his hand once and lost Bucky for 70 years. Now that he had an opportunity, he wasn’t about to let go.

Warning: Ignore anybody’s death in ‘Avengers: Endgame’.

A/N: This is my first story ever! It is also a submission. I am really thankful of @the-omni-princess for giving me the chance to take part in her 1K writing challenge.

The world was greatly different than from what it was a decade ago. Progression through seven decades was a whole another story. One that the two hundred year old super soldiers were greatly overwhelmed with.

Bucky had accidentally clicked a few extra buttons when he was trying to navigate through Netflix on Tony’s why-the-hell-is-a-TV-curved-and-ridiculously-large-and expensive  television screen. Instead of various Disney movies that were displayed earlier, he saw a live feed of Gerald, Tony’s alpaca, grazing in the backyard.

He didn’t know until then that one could use the TV as a monitor to view feeds from different surveillance cameras. A few decades later they’d make it a fucking portal to go through, he thought. In all honesty, although confused, Bucky was throughly amused with all the new advancements he had witnessed so far.

He tried clicking a few more buttons to revert back to Netflix, but all that he saw was different parts of the house through the cameras. He kept it up until the feed from the kitchen pulled up, revealing Steve and Morgan making homemade cheeseburgers. Because ofcourse, this was Tony Stark’s house, with never-ending supply for making cheeseburgers, and they were dealing with Tony Stark’s child, a never-ending blackhole for cheeseburgers.

From after the “Blip”, who the fuck calls the most strangest event in the history that, old relationships were being mended while new ones were formed. Things between Tony and Steve were still rocky until everyone was brought back; until their final mission. They weren’t perfect by any means, but surely they were starting to get better with time, effort and understanding from both the sides.

In order to reduce the emotional distance between his former family members and his new ones, Tony wanted them to spend some quality time together. He wanted Morgan to have good people to look up to, good people to learn from, good people to guide her. Moreover, he wanted her have a good big family and to feel the love and adoration he always wanted as a child. And, as per Tony, what was better than babysitting for this?

Pepper and Tony would enjoy date nights once or twice a month, while one or few of the team members would babysit Morgan at their cabin. This time, Steve volunteered. Bucky, who wanted nothing more than to make up for the lost time with Steve, volunteered to tag along.

At the cabin, as Tony and Pepper prepared to leave for the night, Morgan was a little anxious. She knew Steve, but she hardly knew this metal armed stranger who accompanied him. She had seen various documentaries on all the avengers and she knew of Bucky as Caption America’s childhood best friend who fell off a train but was saved by some fellow human beings. Tony had shielded her from the dark parts in everyone’s stories for now. Although she didn’t know Bucky personally, she trusted him because Steve trusted him.

Bucky watched their dinner being prepared by Morgan and Steve…his Steve…

How he wished he could say that.

The domesticity of the look fluffed up his heart; it mesmerised him. Steve mesmerised him.

Back in the day, every young gentleman had more or less the same goals. A beautiful girl to wake up cuddled with, a decent enough job to support their family, unforgettable fun times with  their girls in their arms, a lively brownstone with their kids laughing and running in the backyard, and never-ending happiness in their lives. Like all others, Bucky wanted it all too. Except, he wanted it all with Steve.

At the moment, however,  he wanted to go back to Netflix. Cursing for not thinking of it earlier, he asked Friday to do so just at the moment Steve and Morgan joined him.

“What, I made dinner for three and you couldn’t even choose a movie to watch?” Steve said with humor in his eyes as he set the food tray on the center table and sat on the couch. 

“Just wanted the little princess here to have her choice. Again.” Bucky flashed a toothy grin to Morgan. She giggled at that.

“A princess, yes,” she said flashing her own toothy grin with one incisor missing, “but hey, not little! I am almost six years old. Mom and dad say I am a growing girl. A growing girl, not a little girl.” She tried to make a face as serious as an ‘almost six’ year old could with her hands at her hips. Both old men laughed at that.

“I apologise for the incorrect words used, my lady. How about I rephrase it? What would our brave and beautiful growing princess like to watch tonight?“  Bucky sat on the other end of the couch.

“Frozen, please!” She squealed with excitement as she sat between them. And so, ‘Frozen’ it was.

The movie progressed and the cheeseburgers had met their fate. All three of its occupants were slumped down on the couch, enjoying the movie and munching on fries. Bucky straightened his posture a bit and extended his arm to rest behind him, bent at the elbows, on the head rest of the couch as his body curved a bit towards Morgan. Having not seen the movie before, he was so engrossed in it that he failed to notice that another arm had already claimed the spot. The back of his fingers touched those of Steve’s, palm facing each other, a little proturded behind the couch. 

Normally, he would would have retreated his hand like all the other times he had. This time though, he wanted to know what would happen if he didn’t. The need to explore the boundaries rose within him. The want to  rebell, to ignore the illogical age old stigmas, and act on what he wants, what he thought was right. He didn’t know if he was defying society’s unnecessary made up rules. He had wanted a chance to be with the love of his life since forever. He planned on taking the chance. The realisation made him nervous.

All of a sudden he became too aware of his surroundings. The movie was forgotten. His heart beat loudly in his chest. He panicked, didn’t know what to do further. Would it be fruitful, he thought. He was very unsure of his newest decision to have what he had wanted all his life. He wanted to shift his arm, but at the same time, he did not.

Acts like these were considered scandalous in his time when men did it with other men. He was conditioned from his childhood days to not seek comfort in a man's touch. However, the twenty first century was different from the twentieth. The beliefs and practices in this age were different than those in his.

Peter, the rookie, along with Shuri, the genius, tried to keep him updated with the changes that had happened in the world while the time his freedom had not been his. He was slowly coming around to using gadgets on his own.

As time passed, HYDRA advanced it’s technologies. The Winter Soldier was not taught about using them though. He was the deadliest soldier in the history of mankind, and their greatest asset. The possibility of him going rogue anyhow was too risky for any of his handlers to entertain.

His teenage friends had introduced him to internet and many spects of it. The nerd in him was overjoyed. He learnt about vines and memes. Caught up with the new movies and all time classics he had missed. Got to know about PRIDE.

He loved how people were expressive in this new era. Although not totally eradicated, social biasey regarding gender, racial and religious discrimination plagued a much smaller population than in his time. People were more logical and radical with their thoughts in this regard atleast.  One could be with whoever they wanted, live a life however they wanted. People were supportive and respective of other’s preferences and choices. Bucky loved it all. But he didn’t know how to talk about it with the man he loved with all his heart.

Although he suspected it, he didn’t know for sure if Steve felt the same way about him. Sure there were lingering touches here and there and hugs that lasted a bit too long for best friends, but it was hard to decipher the intentions behind them. He knew he had to talk to Steve about it at some point or the other. Then why not take a step towards it then? That’s why he decided he would take charge then.

Slowly and meekly, Bucky took a deep breath lightly and nestled his little finger in the crook of Steve’s little finger. He remained as still as possible as he sensed Steve stiffen. He cursed at himself loudly in his head. Surely Steve didn’t want him like that. Bucky was just Steve’s childhood bestfriend, who had been with him through thick and thin, literally. He was a reminder to Steve of what his earlier life was, not the desire to look forward to a future with better improvements.

His thoughts paused when he felt a movement against his ring finger. He realised Steve had nestled his own third finger against his. His heart rate picked up again. He felt little spurts of confidence break inside of him which led him to join their middle fingers. His heart did a happy lil jump when when Steve moved forward his own index finger, soon their fingers were interlaced.

Warmth seeped through Bucky’s arm. He felt full in his heart, in a way he couldn’t describe. Just holding hands like this, the simplest of gestures of affection, was a big deal for these two men when doing it with each other. The only times they’ve held hands is to when one needed to drag the other or needed help being pulled up during mission. Bucky finally felt how it was like not holding hands for necessity but just because his heart desired it.

He felt a sliver of hope. His mind though, felt full and empty at the same time. Maybe his suspicions were correct, maybe not. He couldn’t think straight with the weight of the Steve’s hand encompassing, encircling, enveloping his. He preferred not to think too much and just enjoy it while he could.

Little did he know that Steve considered him as his childhood bestfriend, his buddy, the driving force to want to be better both before and after the war, and so, so much more. Steve couldn’t grab his hand once and lost him for 70 years. He wasn’t letting go now.

~

They were in the same position throughout the movie. Too afraid of any change changing the other’s mind.

As the movie ended, Morgan was hungry again. She wanted to have a chocolate milkshake before she could go to bed. Both men were hesistant about it, but couldn’t say no to her puppy dog eyes. Again.

As the men prepared it in the kitchen, she busied herself with finding a stuff toy she forgot where she last kept it. 

After the movie, both men weren’t happy with not having any physical touch anymore. Since they had had a taste of it, they longed for more. But both were too unsure of themselves to initiate.

Bucky once again saw Steve tinkering with the ingredients in the kitchen as his hip leaned against the counter. The domesticity of the look fluffed up his heart once again. He wanted to hold his hand once again, forever and never let go.

Steve lined the inside of Morgan’s cup with chocolate sause just the way he had seen Wanda do it once. A bit of it dripped on the back of his palm just below his thumb on the hand he was holding the cup with. So focused on the task at hand, he didn’t notice it.

He had an ithy feeling at the junction between his moustache and slight beard. Placing the cup at the counter he went to scratch the itch with the same hand smeared and the chocolate sause at the corner of his mouth rather messily. He noticed it now. Bucky did too.

While Steve looked around for paper napkins, Bucky leaned off the counter, turned fully toward Steve and wiped the mess with his metal thumb in two slow strokes as his metal palm lay against his cheek.

Steve stiffened again. Bucky cursed at himself again.

He shouldn’t have done that. Holding hands was one thing. Cupping cheeks was another. Not removing your hand when the requirement for the said action was fulfilled, was a whole another level.

Again Bucky wanted to remove his hand, because he feared he was stepping over Steve’s boundaries, but he didn’t want to at the same time, because his heart just wanted to do so.

His eyes moved from Steve’s lips to his eyes, oceanic blue just like him. Someone said the truth about being able to look into one’s soul through their eyes. Because right at that moment, he saw himself in Steve.

Both were simple men before the war. Both wanted someone to love, to be with them through their highs and their lows, to be with them and support them at all times, to trust and confide in them, to share the silliest and most important things with them, to remember them and be remembered by them. Both wanted this 'someone’ to be each other. Both longed for each other.

As they affectionately looked at one another, Bucky glided his thumb over Steve’s lips once, then twice. Despite it being his cold metal-arm, all Steve felt was sweet warmth.

Bucky’s eyes moved back to his lips. He leaned forward after gulping. Steve followed right after him.

Earlier, the societal norms were against them, then time. Right then, both were in their favour. However, they forgot an almost six year old factor.

Right before their lips could touch, just a centimetre apart,  Morgan came back in the kitchen yelling, “I found it. Finally!”

Shocked to the core at sudden intrusion, both men jumped apart is they had touched lava. A slight tinge of pink could be seen on both their faces. Suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed and not wanting to make eye contact, both looked at Morgan.

She held a cute red and gold teddy shaped Ironman. Steve let out a sigh and a small laugh simultaneously, dipping his head low. Bucky smiled.

Steve went back to making her milkshake and handed her the finished product. The hungry child drank it one go. They then took her upstairs, made her take a bath and brush her teeth.

When they tucked her under the cover and proceeded to leave, she quietly asked them to tell her a bedtime story.

“Sure princess,” Steve sat on one side of her bed, leaning against the head rest, legs half down and one hand behind her pillow.

Bucky just stood there, unsure what to do. Morgan looked at him expectantly. Steve nodded at him and he went to sit on the other side of her bed, copying Steve.

“What kind of a story do you want to listen?” Steve asked combing through her hair.

“A love story!” She looked excited.

Steve wasn’t great with stories for kids. He looked at Bucky, intially for help, but then he looked into his eyes and immediately smiling down at Morgan said, “Once upon a time, there were these two people, two friends, Stephanie and James. Best friends actually.”

He looked up at his best friend. It took Bucky a moment before he caught onto Steve’s play. He could only stare at his friend, with eyes a little wide and surprise on his face. He understood why there was a female character alongside James and not a male. He was anxious to hear what Steve had to say next.

Steve continued, “They had been so for as long as one could remember. Always playing together, running together, being together, no matter what. They cared for each other, always had each other’s backs.

“They protected each other, even from the meanest bullies. They took hits for each other if it meant the other stayed out of harm’s way.

“If someone needed to find one of them, they could as well search for the other since they always stayed by each other’s side.

“Where one went, the other followed. A friendship like theirs was so rare. Luckiest were the people who had even a fraction of what they had.”

Steve took Bucky’s hand behind Morgan’s pillow in his and interwove their fingers. He looked at him with a fuzzy feeling inside his chest as he said, “Their love for each other unparalleled by any other.” He squeezed his fingers.

Bucky’s heart swelled. He squeezed right back. Something burst inside of him. He didn’t know what, but it made him feel giddy like never before.

“Stephanie idealiesed James for his bravery, his confidence-”

“And James idealised Stephanie for her goodness, innate goodness.” Bucky intervened with a smile brighter than the stars.

Lost is the beauty of Bucky, both inside and out, Steve took a while  before he continued, “There was a group of bad people who wanted brave men like James for their own cruel intentions. They kidnapped him and Stephanie couldn’t stop them.

Like any other close friend, she missed him dearly. She was angry at herself. She hated the day James was taken from her. She hated her inability to save him. She regretted not trying harder.”

Steve was looking at his lap. Bucky tightly squeezed his hand and said, “She didn’t know that there was nothing that she could have done to save him. It wasn’t her fault by any means.

“There was Fate which played it’s tricks. Nobody is stronger than the turn of events undertaken by it. Nobody could be above Destiny, no matter how much they wished. Their pair was just an unlucky lot, unfortunate enough to be under Fate’s wrath.”

Steve stared at Bucky, not believing what he said. To an extent, he knew he couldn’t have saved Bucky from falling off the train all those years ago, but the guilt of not just trying harder ate him alive everyday. He replayed every decision he made that morning, every action he did. The 'what if’s never ended…

Nevertheless, Steve said with eyes on Morgan, “After a very, very long time, Stephanie found a way to rescue James from those bad people. She didn’t believe there was finally a chance she could be with her long lost companion again. She was determined to take that chance and make it happen anyhow.

“She did succeed in rescuing him. She had never been as happy as that day before. He returned to her a little broken and damaged, but she didn’t mind it since he was stronger in his own right more than ever. When she had said she would be with him forever, she meant during both his highs and lows.

“Even time was not able to break their preciy bond. Her affection for him had never faltered. Instead, it had increased tenfold.

“The sudden detachment, the longing, the way she felt after their reunion, it all made her realise…” He stopped speaking and looked at Bucky again, lower lip shivering.

He took a deep intake of breath and said, “She realised  she had loved him all along. She loved him in every sense of the word, in every possible direction, in any possible way. Together, they fought their way through the bad men, making sure they’d never take him away from her again.”

“Did he love her back?” Morgan asked him. Steve looked down at her before raising his questioning eyes at Bucky, who just beamed down at Morgan and said, “Of course, princess. That’s why it is a love story.”

Smiling then, she asked again, “Did they live their lives happily after?” Now it was Bucky’s turn to look at Steve, who replied, “It took a little while, yes, but their happily after was the most beautiful one out there.”

Content with the story, she thanked them. “It was beautiful.” She had said. Indeed it was.

Exchanging their good-nights, they made their way downstairs. As Morgan slept peacefully, they were left alone with their racing hearts.

The big question arose then. What would they do now? They didn’t need to hide or be evasive from anyone. They were away from prying eyes and judgmental minds.

Neither Bucky nor Steve knew how to proceed, still overwhelmed.

Daring to initiate, Steve softly called out to the other man in the house as they stood near the stairs on the ground floor. Bucky turned around towards him. They stared intently at each other without saying anything. Nervousness clogged their nervous systems.

Bucky knew now was the time to come clean. Everything was out in the open already. Their feelings were mutual. There was hardly anything to be afraid of.

Repeating 'You can do it, you can do it’ in his head several times, Bucky took a step closer towards Steve. “About upstairs,”

“I meant every word I said, Buck.” Steve quickly ushered before he could say anything else. “I-”

Bucky took a step forward, cupped his cheeks and crashed his lips with Steve. He didn’t need to hear anything else.

It was the same man for whom he had pledged to be strong and brave, to help and to protect at all times. To stick with forever. Steve had left his newfound family of superheroes for him, defied over a hundred nations for him. If it wasn’t for what Bucky hoped it was, he didn’t know the workings of the world anymore.

Steve responded in kind. He grasped the back of his neck and laid a hand on the small of his back, pulling him closer. His heart thumped in his chest. They kissed and kissed and kissed, releasing years of pent up emotions.

When they parted, Bucky rested his head at the crook of Steve’s neck, breathing his scent, basking in it. Even cloud mattresses could not make him as comfortable as he had felt in that moment.

Softly but confidentaly, without any doubts, since  They were way past liking each other, Steve whispered in his ear, “I love you, jerk.”

Goosebumps rose on his skin. “I love you too, punk.” Grinning madly, he kissed him again.

Steve pulled back a little to look at his love of his life. He was smiling too. Finally, finally Bucky was his, and Bucky could call him his. However, Bucky’s insecurities were still ever prerent.

“Hey, you… you’re… you’ll be with me, right?” He looked at the floor.

Pecking his lips strongly, Steve said, “Never apart.” He knew Bucky needed more assurance. Who knew him better than Steve?

“Yes Bucky, it’ll always be you. You’ll be in my heart. From this day on, now and forever more.”

With amusement in his eyes, Bucky said, “Don’t do anything stupid”

“How can’t I? We’re together till the end of the line, love.”

~~~

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#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fluff #bucky x steve #steve x bucky #bucky barnes x steve rogers #steve rogers x bucky barnes #mcu fic #the-omni-princess1kwritingchallenge #that damn girl writes #his

[flowerymoonlight]

my third heart

pairing: Bucky x Reader

genre: angst and pain, I didn’t even try to make it happy

word count: 2,054

summary: You saw the Soldat a total of four times in your life.

warnings: talking about hydra and the red room but no real details, character deaths, shootings

author’s note: this is for @the-omni-princess ‘s 1k challenge OH MY GOD IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG IM TERRIBLE I KNOW I had War Of Hearts by Ruelle 

The first time you saw Soldat you were nine years old and practicing for your first ballet recital. He had come in with six other men all in combat gear and all surrounding another man in a suit. You didn’t know enough then not to look him in the eyes – even if they were void of any color.

The second time you saw Soldat you were fifteen and instructed to wait in the training room with Natalia, Alina, and Dominika. You knew you four were the best in your class, you just weren’t sure whether they would kill you or give you an assignment. Then the Soldat walked in without his mask and barking orders that your body had since a long time ago learn to follow.

From that day on you saw the Soldat every day for the next four years. He trained you and the others on different fighting styles, how to make yourselves invisible and how to get in and out of a room without anyone inside it realize you were ever there.

He had you working in two teams, you with Natalia and Alina with Dominika. You were operating a mission in Moska when Alina and Dominika were compromised by the local police. You sat and watched as the Soldat pulled out his rifle and aimed. Two head-shots. Fifteen minutes later you were on a military aircraft back to the compound.

You never forgot the speed in which he was ready to take them out.

When it was time for yours and Natalia’s graduation ceremony the Soldat tried to do a pep talk. It was the first time you had seen him fumbling with his words and it was oddly endearing. It took a couple of giggles from you and Natalia for him to grumble something about the youth and leave the room.

Three years later Natalia went rogue and you never heard from her again.

The next time you saw the Soldat it was a year after Natalia had disappeared and you had learned she was with your enemies. At first, you were angry that her loyalty was so easily swayed and went on a killing spree trying to find Agent Barton, Hawkeye, the man that took her with him. After being unsuccessful you decided to wait patiently and plan his slow death.

That time the Soldat came with the mask over his face and stayed for another year.

That year he was assigned to you – or rather you were assigned to him. Someone from above had suspicions that what happened to Natalia would happen to you. So, the Soldat was supposed to take care of you and make sure you killed for the right team.

He wasn’t supposed to get attached. You weren’t supposed to get attached. You were a highly skilled agent, trained to conceal and be in control of your emotions at all times. What happened with the Soldat was unexpected and certainly unwanted. It compromised your position and reliability as an asset to the cause.

And yet you couldn’t stop. Everything in your training told you that getting involved with an agent, from your team or otherwise, was to be avoided at all costs. You must not have any attachments so you can focus on the cause.

The Soldat had assured you after a night of holding you close that you were both extremely committed to what was right and this thing between you was simply bodies exchanging heat.

You tried to believe him – until you didn’t. Until he almost got his head blown up during an extraction, and so much worry clouded your mind that you almost got made by the enemy. And it was only almost because you made sure no one of them would live to tell the tale.

You tried to believe that the cause was more important even as you rushed to make sure he was okay and kissed him when all you could find on his body were a few scratches and bruises, maybe a cracked rib that would heal in a couple of hours. You even tried to believe it when he kissed you back with the same vigor while you dragged each other back to the safe house.

You began to wonder when you would see him after an especially hard mission that would get him to the infirmary for two days. Or when he would leave for a mission all alone, arming himself to the bone. You began to worry about him. And you began to wonder if the cause really was more important than him.

That’s when you knew you were in too deep and the only solution was to extract yourself from the situation focus on your assignments. But knowing what to do and actually doing it are two very different things.

Then your pace started to change. He was coming to see you after each mission before he could even get checked for injuries. He would stay until you made him leave and take a shower and check himself and then he would come back at night when all the lights were out and none the wiser.

He would curl around you and bring you both to orgasm but he would never let go of you not even for a moment. After he would stay until his breathing evened out, until your breathing evened out, and you would fall asleep in his arms every night. Even if you woke up without him the next day, you knew he wanted to stay.

It was becoming more and more dangerous to see him and get even more attached and infatuated with him. And yet there was a war happening inside of you, between your heart and your mind. Both convinced that they knew the right thing to do and yet pitching two different things.

Realizing and acknowledging your situation didn’t make it any easier when they took him from you. A year after being partners the STRIKE team came barging in while you were cleaning your weapons and they tasered him till he couldn’t move and was helpless as they hoisted him up and took him away from you.

The only reaction you gave – the only reaction you were supposed to give – was a twitch of your jaw before they left and you focused again on cleaning your gun. Aware of the cameras in the room and how they were now intently focused on you and aware of where they were taking him and what they’d do to him.

It hurt more when you pretended like nothing had happened. Like they didn’t take your partner away from you. It hurt more when you were letting out your rage on the enemy and not being able to shoot down the very STRIKE members that ripped him from you.

It hurt more when you didn’t know which was the right side anymore.

So, you did the only thing you could. You went dark – rogue, just like Natalia. Only you didn’t change sides. You didn’t choose any sides. You were on your own with a new name, a new identity, and a new country.

Your solitary didn’t last for long as three years later you were coming back from a run when you caught a black van trailing you. You didn’t give them the satisfaction of acknowledging them, continuing on your way to your apartment.

In all honesty, you were expecting someone to already be there and waiting for you to get back – you just weren’t expecting him. You weren’t expecting to see the Soldat in full combat gear looking around your living room, confused as if it was his first time seeing a couch.

You couldn’t blame him, it was a lot for you too when you discovered throw pillows.

But the surprise of seeing him there after all these years had you being slow and with a gun pointed at your chest while the Soldat stared you down. When your eyes trailed over his exposed face, trying to memorize it again, you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to.

But the thing that made something inside of you break and shatter were his eyes, and how vacant they were compared to the last time you saw him. A part of you broke even more because you knew exactly what they had done to him – exactly what he went through. And you were not there to stop it.

You expected the bullet to hit you straight in the chest. You prepared for the sharp pain that would only last seconds before you took your last gasped breaths in this world. But it never came. The Soldat never fired.

Instead, he kept staring at you with a frow between his brows. You itched to move as more seconds passed by but you made yourself stand still and wait for his next move. You didn’t expect that either. He flipped the gun in his hand so you could take it from him.

You gaped at him – willingly giving you his gun – and for the seconds it took you to place the thought in your head the Soldat was moving and taking your hand to shove the gun on it till your instincts kicked in and you gripped it tightly.

The next moment he was stepping back, with his hands at his sides, and looking at you expectantly. You lifted the gun to point at his chest and he didn’t even blink. But as much as you knew that you should pull the trigger and flee as fast as possible. As much as you knew your only chance was with him laying on your living room floor, bleeding out, you couldn’t do it.

You lowered the gun to your side and let out a shaky exhale – the first sign of emotion since you saw him. You thought that he would strike you then. That he only gave you a fighting chance before taking you down. But you should’ve learned by then that you should never expect anything from him.

The Soldat took two steps before he was in front of you and grabbing your hand still holding the gun and placing it against his chest. You stared at him as you realized that he wanted you to shoot him. He wanted you to take him down. Does that mean...

“You remember...” You whisper, and it’s lost between you as he shuts his eyes but never lets the grip he has on your hand falter. You realize quickly that you’re hoping for too much. You were asking too much of him. But that just gave you even more questions about his reasons behind this.

“It’s the only way,” he whispered back and his voice held all the things you couldn’t say and all the things you couldn’t feel. You felt it landing heavily at the pit of your stomach and all you wanted to do was disregard all your training for just one moment – one moment where you could hold him before he was taken away again.

But you couldn’t – because he wouldn’t either.

So, you ripped your hand from his hold and before you could blink and change your mind you aimed for his leg, firing a shot just above his right knee that had him grunting and his other knee falling to the ground. You didn’t hesitate before going for his left shoulder.

You did, though, take a moment to look into his eyes as you aimed at the center of his chest again – different position and different eyes staring back at you. This time the Soldat didn’t dare hide anything as you held his life in your hands. You saw everything in those blue orbs and you felt like you were shooting yourself when you pulled that trigger.

You didn’t stay to look after you heard his gasp and the sound of his body hitting the floor. You didn’t stay to look at the blood trickling out of his body and soaking your carpet. You took the fire escape out of the building just in time to hear the STRIKE team bust down your door to find the Soldat.

You didn’t stay to hear if they found a pulse – you just fled.

#the-omni-princess1kwritingchallenge #bucky x reader #the winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfiction

[mypassionsarenysins]

Baby, Don’t Fear The Reaper

Congrats to @the-omni-princess​ for 1,000 you deserve them love. 

My song was (Don’t Fear The Reaper by Blue Öyster Cult)

Warnings: Character Death, Sad, Angst. 

Sam Wilson x Reader 

All our times have come

Here but now they're gone

Seasons don't fear the reaper

Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain, we can be like they are. 

You had known Sam Wilson for the past three years. Three years after the blip. Three years since he became Captain America. 

You started your career working for Maria Hill, and then for Nick Fury. 

That’s when you met him. You can still remember how handsome and powerful he looked. All business, but that damn smirk in his face making you fall immediately. 

Come on baby, don't fear the reaper

Baby take my hand, don't fear the reaper

We'll be able to fly, don't fear the reaper

Baby I'm your man 

You remembered that after a couple of months dating you and fallen for Sam completely. 

The way his soul enveloped yours, the seriousness on his face when he was on captain mode, or the dumb smile he had while teasing Bucky.

One of the best memories with Sam was when you both had a mission in Southern California where you guys had rented an old mustang and took some day off to road trip from LA to San Fransisco. 

You remember the windows rolled downed, you hair blowing in the wind, sunglasses perched on your nose just staring at the bright blue sky. 

You remember looking over at Sam who had the biggest smile and kept glancing at you. 

“What you looking at peach?” He asks with a smile knowing how much you hate that nickname. 

In that moment you could only look at him, smile on your lips, and tears in the corner of your eyes. 

This takes Sam’s attention as he pulls to the side. As he parks the car he turns to you with concern in his handsome features. 

“(Y/N) what’s wrong?”  Sam said.

As he was about to say something else you couldn’t hold it anymore and lunged forward connecting your lips to his. 

As you both separate due to the lack of oxygen Sam connect his forehead to yours closing his eyes. 

“If you wanted a kiss, all you had to do was ask peach,” he smiled as you let out a huff. 

You take a deep breath, “I love you Sam,” you say shyly. 

He lets out a laugh to which you pout at him. 

“Is that why you where nervous?” He asks as he holds your face between his eyes. 

You just nod your head and look shyly at him. 

“I love you too peach,” with that he connects his lips with yours again. 

As you continue to drive hand on hand you continue to listen to that old rock song about something or other. 

Sam sings badly only making you laugh and he success playing old rock song and making you fall and fall more. 

Valentine is done

Here but now they're gone

Romeo and Juliet

Are together in eternity, Romeo and Juliet

40, 000 men and women everyday, Like Romeo and Juliet

40, 000 men and women everyday, Redefine happiness

Another 40, 000 coming everyday, We can be like they are

That had been three years ago. 

What feels like a lifetime ago.

You had moved in together after a year, and last year you guys had gotten a German shepherd named Bucky (which the other Bucky loves). 

About a week ago a couple of rouge hydra agents had attacked some city in Germany so you and the whole team had prepared to go. 

Three days ago there had been a bombing in the base you where. 

An hour ago there had been a bomb in the car you where on. 

Twenty minutes ago Sam and Bucky had found you bleeding on the floor next to two other agents who had died immediately. 

Sam had you in his arms. Your body felt heavy, tired, and all you wanted to do was sleep. 

You could hear in the background Bucky yelling at people, but all you could focus was Sam’s heartbeat and the way his fingers felt on your hair. 

“I’m tired baby,” you say weakly as you try to keep your eyes open. 

“I know peach, but the medics are on their way,” se says as soft as he can. 

“I want you to know that I love you Sam, even when you call me that dumb name,” you say smiling as much as you could. 

“Then you’re gonna be there to remind me everyday.” He tries to keep a smile but you can see the tears coming. 

“I want you to take care of both Bucky’s baby, they’ll need you and you’ll need them,” you say as your body starts to go numb. 

“Please baby you can’t go, I was going to ask you to marry me, you can’t leave before I get to ask it.” Sam says louder with tears fully forming in his eyes. 

“Remember the trip to California? Can you sing me that song, the one about the reaper?” You ask as you close your eyes. 

You hear a sob. 

“Anything for you peach,” Sam says. 

“Come on baby, don't fear the reaper

Baby take my hand, don't fear the reaper

We'll be able to fly, don't fear the reaper

Baby I'm your man” Sam sings and as you hear his voice your body goes slack and the last thing you remember is fading into black with the sound of Sam’s voice in your heart. 

La, la, la, la, la

La, la, la, la, la

Love of…

#the-omni-princess1kwritingchallenge #sam wilson x reader #angst #sam wilson

[samwilsonsbabymama]

A Ride Under Mistletoe

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Black Reader 

Summary: Reader falls in love with Sam Wilson after moving back to America.

Warnings: Fluff, a little bit of angst, Bucky being a sweetheart, and some smut at the end 💖

A/N: So, Thanos didn’t happen. Everyone is alive and it’s the holiday season. This is a Plus Size!Black!Reader x Sam Wilson.

This is for @the-omni-princess​ 1K writing challenge. I know I had another fic… but I didn’t like it so I’m replacing it with this one lol

My prompt was  “If you focus on what you left behind, you will never be able to see what lies ahead.” -Gusteau from Ratatouille

Also, I received this prompt “Ok. OK. So. I didn’t see this in the master list so….Sam Wilson and thigh riding?” and I included that…

The streets were crowded, as you knew they would be at this time of night, but you didn’t mind. You felt at peace as you took in all the decorations while you walked around. You were in search of a dress for a holiday party, and for some reason, you waited until the last minute to shop for one.

You felt indifferent towards the holidays because you never had a reason to celebrate them. Sure, your family got together and had a big dinner and did a gift exchange, but it seemed that all anyone ever cared about was the gifts. Now, you weren’t a Scrooge by any means; you weren’t one to go all out. But there was a part deep, deep, deep, inside of you that wanted to give your all during the holidays. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it for some reason.

As you walked, you began to think about the past year and how things had changed. You’d spent the last five years in Wakanda and you worked with Princess Shuri and King T’Challa after the King had opened the borders. You learned as much as you could from the two royals about Vibranium and its uses, and now you were adjusting to American life once again. You worked at the Avengers Compound alongside Dr. Bruce Banner and Tony Stark as a liaison between them and Wakanda. You loved your job, but you did miss Wakanda. You missed the culture, the love you felt while you were there, and also how everyone around you looked like you. You didn’t feel left out or that you didn’t belong. You often thought about going back, but upon getting to know Sam, that began to change.

Samuel Thomas Wilson. The Falcon.

You smiled as you thought of him. He’d been a beacon of light in your life when you moved back to America and started working in the Compound. Yeah, sure, you knew Bucky, but Sam was different. Sam made sure that you were included in the Avenger’s movie nights, he also made sure to dance with you at least once during Tony’s parties. And before you knew it, the two of you had become great friends.

Sam would often bring you lunch when he wasn’t on a mission and he would listen to you gripe about Tony and Bruce, and he would make sure you weren’t spending too much time working in the lab. If you weren’t spending time with your family on your off days, you were with Sam. He would come over to your place, and the two of you would spend hours watching movies and binging junk food until the two of you passed out on your couch. The two of you often talked about your experiences in Wakanda and how they differed from those in America. Yeah, you were born in America and had lived the majority of your life here, but never had you felt the sense of belonging in America that you felt in Wakanda.

Sam understood that. He never spent much time there outside of visiting Bucky and those visits were often short from what he told you. He would listen to your stories about how beautiful it was there or the time you brought some of your family over to visit.

The routine of him coming over and spending days with you lead you to your current predicament. You had feelings for him, and not just any type of feelings, you were head over heels in love with him. And that frightened you. You had never been in love with anyone before, and you could see yourself being happy with Sam… no scratch that. You knew you would be happy with Sam. The way he treated you now showed you that. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. You were worried that he didn’t feel the same way as you, and you didn’t want to ruin your friendship if he didn’t feel the same way. There were times where you thought that he loved you as well, but you often brushed it off as you projecting your feelings. You thought of how worried you were when he went on missions. If the two of you were dating, you knew that worry would intensify and you weren’t sure if you could handle the heartbreak if anything ever happened to him.

Your phone rang, and you snapped out of your thoughts and paused your music. Your face lit up when you saw Sam’s name on your screen. He was finally back from his three-week-long mission.

You answered the call with a smile, “Hello?”

“Y/N!” his voice rumbled through your headphones. “How have you been?”

“I’m good. Are you at the Compound?” you asked as you headed into a dress shop.

“Mmhmm, got in about 20 minutes ago,” he replied before letting out a pained grunt.

“Sam?” you paused your search upon hearing his discomfort. “Are you alright?” you tried to keep the worry from seeping into your voice, but you couldn’t help it.

“Yeah,” he responded through clenched teeth. “Everything’s fine.”

“Samuel Thomas! Do not lie to me!” you whispered angrily into the phone.

“Y/N, I promise, everything is fine,” he groaned again.

“Mm, I don’t believe you.”

“Would I ever lie to you, Y/N?” he joked, his voice sounding a little more relaxed.

“Yes, because you have, Sam,” you rolled your eyes as he laughed.

“What are you doing right now?” he asked, attempting to distract you.

“Still looking for a dress, but I think the search may be over,” you said as your eyes landed on a mid-thigh-length, white dress. You reached for the dress and the moment your finger touched it, you fell in love. The fabric was soft and stretchy, perfect for a holiday party. Would you dare wear something like this? Especially around Sam? You didn’t know. But what you did know, was that this dress was coming home with you.

“Y/N?” you heard in your ear.

“Sorry, I got distracted,” you laughed.

“I guess you found a dress for the party?” Sam asked. “Send me a picture.”

“Boy, please,” you responded. “You’ll have to wait to see it just like everyone else.”

“Really, Y/N? That’s how it is?” he chuckled.

“Yup,” you said popping the ‘p’ hard to get your point across. You paused for a beat, “I’m happy you’re home, Sam, I was really worried.” Your heart clenched, you wanted nothing but to be right next to him.

“I missed you too, Y/N,” Sam uttered, his voice serious. “I- Ummm, I gotta go. Bye.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but you were cut off by your music as it resumed.

Your heart dropped. Why did he hang up on you? usually, when he was in the Med Bay, he’d talk to you until he was released, which was usually no more than an hour. His behavior rubbed you the wrong way, but you pushed it to the back of your mind as you tried on your dress.

You were definitely in love… with the dress that is, and it was definitely coming home with you. You stared at yourself in the mirror for a few more minutes and snapped a few pics. This was the perfect dress for you, now all you needed were some shoes.

You changed back into your clothes and placed the dress back onto the hanger and headed towards the shoes. You searched for a few minutes before your mind drifted back to Sam, wondering if he would like your dress and why he had hung up on you so suddenly. Your browsing proved fruitful as you found a pair of shoes in your size that matched the dress perfectly as if they had been made to wear with the dress.

After purchasing your items, you headed back home taking your time in the cold weather. You didn’t live far from the dress shop, so you didn’t mind the walk. It gave you more time to think about Sam.

When you reached your house, you walked up the stairs to the front door, taking no notice of the person sitting on your porch swing, obviously waiting for you to return. You also didn’t hear them calling your name since your music was still playing, and you didn’t focus on them until their shadow moved in your peripheral vision causing you to drop your keys.

“SAM!” you yelled as you clutched at your chest. You yanked out your headphones and continued to yell at him as you reached for your fallen keys. “What the FUCK!”

“You need to pay more attention to your surroundings, Y/N,” Sam chuckled. “Look, I come bearing gifts,” he said as he held up store bags full of what looked like your favorite snacks. “And the pizza should be here within the hour.

You pursed your lips as you looked over his face. You took note of a few new scratches but didn’t say anything as he followed you into your house.

You kicked off your boots and made your way to your room knowing that he would follow you put away the food. You walked straight to your closet and placed the boxes on one of your shelves and began to change out of your clothes and into some night shorts and a t-shirt. When you emerged from your closet Sam stood in your doorway leaned against the door frame.

"What’s in the boxes?” he asked as you put your braids into a bun.

“My dress and shoes for the party,” you answered. “What are you wearing to Tony’s party?”

“Let me see the dress, and I’ll tell you.”

You rolled your eyes, “Well, I guess it’s going to be a surprise on both ends.” You brushed passed him and headed back into the living room and flipped on the TV.

Sam followed and plopped down on the couch next to you and you immediately snuggled against him. The two of you settled on a movie after a bit of arguing about what you should watch, and you had gotten comfortable when the doorbell rang signaling the pizza.

You frowned when Sam got up to answer the door, but you perked back up when you smelled the pizza. He’d ordered from your favorite pizza place and you knew that he had gotten your favorite pizza. You smiled when he opened the box and you reached for your first slice.

The two of you ate silently as the movie played and when you were done eating, you snuggled back into Sam’s side. The movie was coming to an end when you heard Sam’s heartbeat increase. He was usually so calm around you. You looked up to ask him what was wrong, but you found that he was already staring at you. You quirked an eyebrow at him, and before you knew it, his lips gently touched yours. You froze as you felt your body heat up. His lips were so soft, softer than you had ever imagined, but he wasn’t kissing you.

You opened your eyes, not realizing you had closed them and pulled away. Sam’s eyes shot open and his breaths quickened.

“Sam…” you began, but he shook his head.

“I gotta go. I can’t do this,” he said as he strode to the door, slipped his boots and coat on, and headed out the door without a backward glance.

                                                     0o0o0

Two days passed and you hadn’t seen or heard from Sam. He ignored your calls and texts and it really put a damper on your spirit. What did he mean by ‘He couldn’t do this’? What was it that he couldn’t do? It rubbed you the wrong way that he wouldn’t talk to you, especially since you didn’t do anything wrong.

And now here you were, at Tony Stark’s Holiday party, dateless, sipping champagne alone, in a dress to die for, alone.

You watched as everyone around you laughed and had a good time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to join them. You rolled your eyes and traded your empty champagne flute for a full one.

“You know he’s watching you, right?” a friendly voice spoke beside you.

You smiled, knowing who the voice belonged to, but you kept your eyes trained on the other party guests. “I don’t know who or what you are talking about, James,” you responded before you took a sip of your drink.

“Sure, doll,” James laughed before he took your drink out of your hand and led you to the dancefloor. You grimaced as he spun you around, but once you got your footing, you plastered a smile on your face.

“Bucky, why are you doing this?” you asked as the two of you swayed to the music.

He shrugged, “I guess I’m tired of seeing two of my friends that are madly in love with each other do absolutely nothing about it.”

You opened your mouth but closed it quickly. You couldn’t even deny that you loved Sam. You wouldn’t even try.

“He doesn’t love me, Bucky,” you whispered, and Bucky laughed. He actually laughed. “Glad you think that’s funny, James,” you said as you tried to pull away, but his hold on you kept you in place.

“I’m laughing because it is funny,” Bucky admitted. “It’s funny that you think he doesn’t love you. Goodness, I wish you could see how he looks at you, how he’s looking at you right now.” Bucky slowly turned the two of you around and your eyes immediately landed on Sam. To someone that didn’t know him, he would look upset, his lips were pressed into a thin line, his jaw set and unmoving, his shoulders squared and tensed, but his eyes held the truth. You’d wondered how often he looked at you that way and why you had never seen it before. You held his gaze for a few more seconds before Bucky turned you away again.

“See it now, don’t you?” Bucky guessed. “You’re the last one to know, and he’s the last one to know how you feel about him. And by that, I mean, he still doesn’t know.”

Your heart squeezed. Did he really love you?

“Bucky, I’m no good for him,” you breathed.

“You know, it’s funny because he said something similar to me the other day,” Bucky began. “He knows that you’re thinking about leaving and going back to Wakanda. He doesn’t want to be the reason you stay here.”

You paused your movements, “How?”

“It’s not hard to figure out, Y/N, and to be honest, I don’t blame you,” he admitted. “The two of you are perfect for each other. Everyone sees it and it’s driving us crazy watching the two of you pass this up. I don’t know what happened to you in the past but if you focus on what you left behind; you will never be able to see what lies ahead.”

You chewed on his words for a moment as the two of you swayed to the music.

“Just… Before you make any decisions, talk to him alright?”

You nodded just as the song ended and Bucky placed a kiss on your hand and stepped back. You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to face Sam. Your breath hitched at how good he looked. You hadn’t really taken in his outfit when you looked at him earlier, but now that he was up close, you couldn’t help but notice it.

“Y/n, can we talk?” Sam asked and you frowned.

“Why do you want to talk all of a sudden, Sam?” you responded. You were hurt. He had hurt you, and you didn’t understand why.

“Y/N, please?” he begged and when you nodded, he led you away from the party, to an elevator and into an empty office three floors below where the party was being held.

When you entered the office, he flipped on the lights and closed the door. You looked around and after a few moments, you realized that it was his office. There were a few pictures on the walls, some of his family, some of Steve, Bucky, and the other Avengers. He watched as you moved around to his desk. You ran your fingers along the top before you reached for a large picture frame and held it up to see better. It was a picture of the two of you laughing at a carnival.

“Do you remember that day?” he asked and continued even though you nodded. “You had been back in America for about five months, and you had just come back to the Compound from visiting your family. You told me that you were homesick and confused because you wanted to be in Wakanda, but your family was in America even though your family lived clear across the country. So I gathered the other Avengers and we took you to a carnival. This is my favorite picture that they took that day.”

“Why is it on your desk, though?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“I thought you wanted to talk, Sam.” your voice was short and to the point. You were getting tired of this. “Why did you kiss me and then leave me?”

“I didn’t kiss you.”

Your heart cracked, “Fine. Why did you put your lips on mine and then leave me?”

“I didn’t kiss you,” he repeated.

“Ok, we’ve cleared that up. You didn’t kiss me the other day,” you nearly yelled. “Why didn’t you? You had the perfect opportunity to kiss me, but you didn’t take it.”

He smiled, “Because I was waiting for the right moment.”

You rolled your eyes, “And when’s the right moment?”

He shrugged but pointed to the ceiling above your head. You looked up and you noticed that you were standing underneath some Mistletoe and you smiled before you looked back at him. He was considerably closer to you now.

You released a breath as he pulled you closer. “May I kiss you?” He asked, and as soon as you nodded, he gently connected his lips to yours. His soft lips pecked yours a couple of times as if to warm you up to him. He pulled your body closer to him with one hand and cupped your face with the other. Your hands grasped the lapel of his jacket as he deepened the kiss. Never in your life had you felt lips as soft as his against your own. He touched your bottom lip with his tongue, and you parted your lips. You gasped when his tongue slipped past your lips and rubbed against yours. Your lips moved with his, fitting perfectly together. You smiled when you felt his fingers begin to take down the bun that your braids were in because he knew how you liked your hair played with. His fingers were like magic in your hair and between that and his kisses, you couldn’t keep your moans to yourself.

You couldn’t get enough of him touching you or kissing you and you wanted more. You pulled back from him and gently pushed him down into his chair before you straddled him and continued kissing. You rocked your hips when felt him grasp your waist and continued the motion when you heard him moan into your mouth. Your hands fell to his shirt, and you pulled back when you touched the first button. “Is this okay?” you asked and smiled when he uttered out a quiet “yes.”

You slowly unbuttoned his shirt and removed it for him before he removed his undershirt. Your hands began to roam his abdomen, and your fingers tickled his happy trail. You bit your lip as you looked up at him and he reached down and unbuckled his pants. When you went to remove them, his voice stopped you, “Y/N, we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You nodded and adjusted yourself so that you were straddling one of his thighs. Sam reached up behind you and unzipped your dress and helped you free your arms from the sleeves. He groaned when your breasts were bared to him then quickly attached his lips to one of your nipples. Your hands continued to explore his body and they lingered at the elastic of his boxers. He covered your hand with his and slipped them both beneath the band. The both of you gasped at the feel of your hand around his length. He fisted your hand around him and began to show you how he liked to be touched. Lost in your own lust, you didn’t realize that you had been riding his thigh. His pumps on his dick matched those of your hips on his thigh. He pulled away from your breast, and your head fell to his shoulder. He moaned in your ear which encouraged you to continue to ride him harder.

Your breathing was ragged as you sought out your release. The fabric of your panties and his pants against your clit created the right amount of friction that had you seeing stars before long. Sam removed his hand from yours and moved your hips for you when he felt you slow down. He encouraged you to keep going, to keep riding his thigh. To show him how you were going to ride his dick. You bit his shoulder in an attempt to contain your moans, but that made his words dirtier. You felt his thigh begin to tense beneath you as he continued to rock your hips. Your pumps grew more determined as you wanted this to be as good for him as it was for you.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Sam croaked and your eyes snapped to his. You threw your head back as you felt your pleasure wash over you, and through your high, you heard Sam call your name as his hips jerked up signaling his release.

The two of you panted as you both came down from your orgasms, the both of you half-dressed and slumped in Sam’s office chair. Your hand was sticky with his cum and his pant leg covered in yours, the thought made you chuckle.

“We can’t leave like this, Sam,” you said when you finally caught your breath. “Well, I can, but you on the other hand…”

Sam joined in on your laughter, “Good thing I keep a spare pair of sweatpants here.” The two of you fell silent once again. “Y/N, I’m serious about us. I don’t want you to go back to Wakanda, but if you choose to go, I will follow you. I’m completely in love with you.”

You hummed, “And I’m in love with you, Sam.”

He wrapped you tighter in his embrace and you slipped into a light sleep.

Tags:

@thadelightfulone // @xsmilebitesx // @inspired–byfashion // @someareblindtoitsbeauty // @cgotwat // @theunsweetenedtruth  // @blackpantherimagines // @chefjessypooh // @honeytoffee  // @theblulife // @blackpantherreblogs // @jozigrrl // @semianta // @wawakanda-btch // @chaneajoyyy // @deansbbysblog // @momobaby227 // @blaqueprincess // @drtycomputerx // @therealhousewivesofidris //  // @buckybarnesscrunchie 

#the-omni-princess1kwritingchallenge #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson needs more love #sam wilson x black reader #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson x plus size!black reader #sam wilson x black!reader #maree writes

[jbbuckybarnes]

Lovely

Desc: This is for @the-omni-princess​’s 1k Writing Challenge. I hope you like it. Prompt: Lovely - Billie Eilish ft. Khalid // Time travel Warnings: Angst, Anxiety, PTSD,

M A S T E R L I S T

All of it was too much, every single sense of his was heightened into infinity and the tears were rolling down his cheeks onto your hand. Your hand, the only thing that was keeping him in this realm right now. It was like a string in the fabric of the universe was attached to him that was meant to connect to you, cause nobody else could keep him from drowning in this awful feeling of shaky breathing and dizziness.

I hope some day I'll make it out of here Even if it takes all night or a hundred years

In his opinion, you shouldn’t have to keep up with this. With his problems, with saving the planet, saving Steve from being stuck in the quantum realm. But your mind was set on helping. He guessed that’s the reason the universe put you together. Maybe you were always meant to be his internal support while he was your external.

Heart made of glass, my mind of stone

Everytime he was in this state he tried to think about what could be in the future. A beautiful small house in Queens, a child or two, waking up next to you every single day.  His little paradies far away from fighting baddies, only with you and a gigantic collection of current media you were going to show him. He also tried to remember the day you showed him Star Wars and went on a tangent about at least half of the characters. The day he started drowning in your eyes every time you looked up at him.

Looking for a better place

His breathing got calmer, the tears stopped. His mind was still going in circles but in smaller ones. He felt you sit down on his lap and let his eyes wander up. Somehow it made him worry about not getting his perfect vision. There were thousands of ways you would end up living a better life without him. Fears that were holding him back more than once a week when he looked at you. Didn’t matter if you were sleeping next to him or sitting on his back while he did some push up’s.

But I know someday I'll make it out of here Even if it takes all night or a hundred years Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near Wanna feel alive, outside I can't fight my fear

“Hey, Bucky, I’m here. You’re going to be okay.” you mumbled before pressing a kiss to his face and then another. Another anchor to reality. He put his hand onto your thigh and pulled you closer. He needed to feel you as close as possible after this damn mission. After all of these things he saw. His family, his sisters, Steve being so...lost. You were the only red string in his life at this point with all this stuff happening around him. He just wanted to have a break and spend it with you.

Hello, welcome home

“I love you.” he whispered into your skin. “I love you too, Bucky.” you answered caressing the back of his head. “Seeing my family back there. And Steve being so-. I got so overwhelmed.” he mumbled. “It’s okay, Bucky. You’re here now. This is where you want to be, right?” you looked into his eyes so soft. “Yeah, this is where I’m supposed to be. And don’t you dare go anywhere without me either.” he smiled up at you. Your fingers wandered through his hair, “Where would I go? There is only now.”

#the-omni-princess1kwritingchallenge #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #james barnes #marvel #mine #writing challenge #sebastian stan #the winter soldier #captain america #endgame #avengers endgame #avengers #bucky angst #bucky fluff #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

The Spark (CountryMusicStar!Bucky x OFC)

Pairing: Country Star!Bucky x Country Star!OFC 

Rating: PG

Warning(s): Angst & Fluff

Word Count: 2,954

Info: This series has been running around my brain for forever, like over a year, so here it is. This is for @the-omni-princess​ 1k Writing Challenge, I grabbed Celebrity AU. Please forgive me for having it be 2 days late, being sick and just having a laptop that doesn’t quite like me hasn’t helped me get this done on time. I do not know lawyer-speak or contract speak for that matter, so please do not come after me or my friend @stormygedd0nthespaz​ who helped me with this. Thank you! 

Synopsis: What do you do when the man who holds your career comes to you with an ultimatum, that not only affects you but the lives around you? That is what is happening for Sparrow Lake, she thought she would start 2020 with just her close friends and family, but when Tony Stark shows up at her family's Smokey Mountain home, with fellow country star Bucky Barnes and their manager, that was not going to happen. 

Thursday, January 9th E!News Online

Stark Record’s owner Tony Stark held a press conference Thursday morning in Nashville, to announce the engagement of two of his top-selling artist Bucky Barnes and Sparrow Lake. The couple first sparked rumors when they performed their new singles Center Point Road and I Will Fall, which both happen to be duets with each other, at Stark Records Take Over Grand Ole Opery. Fans of both Bucky and Sparrow took to Twitter with their speculations but were shot down by Sparrow Lake’s guitarist, Clint Barton, who tweeted; “What happened to the days when artists could collaborate and it didn’t mean they were in relationship?” It was quickly retweeted by Sparrow’s siblings Bey Lake and Peter Parker, as well as Bucky Barnes best friend Steve Rogers. 

Tony broke the news saying, “It is my pleasure to announce the engagement of two of my record labels artist Bucky Barnes and Sparrow Lake. The couple have worked hard to keep the relationship as private as possible for the past thirteen months, but know they are ready to share it with you all. As the fans have been speculating for a while they were together, both Sparrow and Barnes are open with fans, they felt it was the right thing to do. They are working on setting a date for their wedding and are happy to have their relationship out in the open. Stark Records, couldn't be more happy for Barnes and Sparrow, they make a great couple. I look forward to seeing what the future brings them. Thank you.” 

In Tony Stark fashion he didn't stick around to take questions from the press, but just hours later Sparrow posted to her Instagram, where she showed off her ring with the caption, “My soul said yes.” Just minutes later, Bucky Barnes posted a photo of Sparrow Lake makeup-free, with the caption, “So glad you said yes, so we can take over the world together.” If that doesn't melt your heart, I don't know what will!

Wednesday, January 8th, 10 AM - Great Smoky Mountains, Eastern Tennessee 

The house was alive giggles from Birdie as she ran after Jojo, who held her scrunchie in her jaw. Clint laughed at his daughter's antics reminding her to be careful between puffs of breaths. Bey sat on the couch, guitar in lap, phone beside them as they recorded a demo for a pop star. Sparrow sat with her mother, Maggie, sipping on a new tea she had gotten while in Canada with her father Bruce. This was how Sparrow imagined her break, before she hit the studio, with her family, her friends just relaxing. 

“Mr. Lake, Hayes is reporting that Mr. Stark is coming up the driveway, I wasn't aware we were expecting him today.” Kaius, frowned as he walked in listening to his Bluetooth earplugs. The security guard was known for not liking Tony Stark’s chaotic fits, as he liked to call them. Bruce looked up from his book, pulling his glasses off confused before shaking his head. 

“We weren't aware he was coming to visit.” pulling himself up from the chair, Bey followed suit laying their guitar on the couch. “Why don't you go ask Mags to put the coffee on and I’ll go see what Mr. Stark is here for.” patting Kaius on the shoulder, he made his way out the front door pulling his bomber jacket closer to his body as she black SUV came to a stop.

Bruce watched on as Happy Hogan opened the door for Tony Stark, followed by Sam Wilson, his daughter's manager, last but not least Bucky Barnes got out. Bucky looked annoyed as Sam spoke to him, but shook his head before he smiled when he saw that Bruce was watching them. Sam waved to Bruce as he took a bundle of bouquets from Happy, Bruce provided a head-nod of acknowledgment. 

“Good morning Bruce, would it hurt to get cellphone reception up here?” Tony climbed up the steps while gazing up at the maestro of recording music. “Also I hear a congratulation is in order, 4 grammy nominations, that makes what 60 in total your career so far?” Bruce shook Tony’s hand when they met at the top of the stairs. 

“Don’t go congratulating me just yet Mr. Stark, I haven't won yet. As for cellphone reception, my Verizon network works just fine, I was able to call my sister and heard her crystal clear.” Bruce peered down the shorter man, as they waited for the other two gentlemen to reach the porch. Tony scoffed as he pulled his cellphone out to see his name network only had two bars. 

“Is there a chance that Miss. Sparrow has risen yet from slumber?” stuffing his cell back in the pocket of his jeans, as both Bucky and Sam came up behind him. 

“She rose with the sun today. Mr. Stark, we weren't expecting you today, any of you. Not that I'm not happy to see you Sam or Bucky, but this Sparrow’s vacation as well as mine, so if you don't mind me asking, what is it your here for?” Bruce leaned against the banister his arms crossed over his chest, keeping the heat in. Before any of the visitors could speak, Sparrow had opened the front door, her mother's Mexican serape around her shoulders. 

“Sam, Mr. Stark, what a surprise, I just checked with Sarah, she said you didn’t call or e-mail to say you were coming by. Bucky it’s so good to see you.” stepping out onto the porch, Sparrow laid a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, before doing the same to Sam, her eyes staying on Tony the whole time. Clint and Kaius stood vigilant in the doorway. 

“I thought you’d give your team a break, we also needed to talk in person, at best interest.” Tony kissed Sparrow on the cheek as he took his sunglasses off and looked at her with a fond smile. Sparrow pulled away, taking one of the bouquets off Sam’s hands. The anemone’s stood out against berries, lilies, cotton, and roses. 

“Let's go inside then, it's warm and my mother put a fresh pot of coffee on and she’s about to take a tray of snickerdoodles out of the oven.” Kaius and Clint broke away from the doorway allowing the group to pass by, Bey was holding Birdie upside down by her legs, making the little girl giggle. Maggie stood in the entrance of the living room hands on her hip, an apron around her waist looking at the men. 

“You best remove your shoes before you mess up my house, I had these floors cleaned before Christmas so my angels could eat off them,” Maggie ordered the group, referring to Birdie, Clint’s daughter, and Jojo the family's dog, when she meant angels. Bucky made no protest and was quick to take off his worn cowboy boots, while Sam handed over the matching bouquet to her before he slipping his Timberlands off. Tony sighed before he took a seat at the bench in the entrance, pulling off his Adidas. Maggie kissed Sam’s cheek before she took both hers and Sparrow’s bouquets into the kitchen to put them in water.

Bruce leads the group into the dining room, sitting at his usual head of the table. Sparrow sat beside her father to the left, the windows casting a rainbow effect to her. Tony sat down with Bucky between him and Sam, facing Sparrow as Clint came in and sat down beside her. Sam opened his jacket to pull out a file and setting it on the table, immediately Sparrow's stomach dropped. 

“Sparrow, I assume you've seen the charts since you and Barnes put your singles out at the end of November. Well fans have been speculating that you two are together for awhile since photographers caught you both leaving the studio in New York.” Sparrow looked at Bucky who was staring at her, he winked but it did nothing to ease the monster sitting in the pit of her stomach, that felt like it was trying to claw its way out currently.

“So I got to thinking you know what would be great, if we could form the next Faith Hill and Tim McGraw!” Was she going to faint, was the room suddenly too hot? Sparrow threw the serape from her shoulders and covered her face with her hands. 

“Stark, you do realize they are always fighting? Just last year when I was backstage at their tour, Faith was kicking him out of their dressing room and they were spending the rest of tour in different busses. That marriage is in shambles.” Sam didn't think the Tim and Faith were a good reference at all, as he put his two sense in. There was no doubt the two loved each other but no one would want to put themselves willingly in their shoes. 

“Okay, so terrible reference, Sparrow Lake and Bucky Barnes could be the next Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood. I bet they could even be the next Johnny and June Cash, I want to make it happen.” banging his hand on the table, Sparrow flinched back while Bruce glared at Tony. Tony was out of his mind if he thought he had the next big it couple, you had to have a couple for it to be a couple. 

“Just one problem Stark, last I checked Bucky isn't dating my daughter.” Bruce stood up from his chair, placing his hands on the table, making his annoyance ever the more known at the label owner and multimillionaire. 

Clint reached under the table grabbing Sparrow’s hand as her leg started to bounce up and down. Anxiety was heavy on her mind, Tony Stark had something up his sleeve she just knew it. Bruce sat back down just as Maggie came in with a platter of cookies along with mugs and coffee. 

“Mom, can you take Dad and Jojo out for a walk, he needs some air.” meeting her father's gaze as her mother placed a kiss atop her head. Bruce was up from his seat no argument as Maggie looked at him from above their daughters head. Placing a kiss on the crown of Sparrow's head, he sighed then proceed to follow his wife out of the room. 

Sparrow poured cups of coffee for everyone, buying time to be sure her parents had left the cabin. Bucky watched her closely, he could see the slight shake in her as she passed each cup out, how her left pointer finger plucked at the skin on the nail bed of her thumb. The door closing pulled everyone from their thoughts as Sam took a cookie from platter stuffing it in his mouth in one go. 

“Tony, as my dad said before, me and Bucky aren’t dating, I‘ve made no inclination that I was dating anyone since I broke up with my ex, so I’m just not sure what you are insinuating.” Clint and Sam’s eyes met while Bucky scratched at the stubble that had grown on his face over the past few days. 

“Well it’s simple really, Bucky and you have been dating in secret for the past 13 months, that give you what six months to get over what’s his face. Bucky over Christmas break proposed to you and well, you both just love your fans so much it’s now time for the two of you confirm that you have been in a relationship and you want to share this wonderful news with them.” Tony smiled at her while Sparrow’s jaw dropped, the monster was now raging and it was going to try and claw its way out of her. Clint well he was laughing, the man couldn’t be seriously insinuating a fake marriage was an amazing idea. 

“Stark you can’t seriously be thinking that a fake marriage is going to sell more tickets and records are you? It may work for a little bit but when TMZ finds out it’s fake because you can’t fake records like that, well it’s over their fans will hate them.” Clint got up from the table and started to pace the dining room, running his fingers through his hair. 

“No it will be real, they will be married till one of them doesn’t want to make music anymore. I’ve thought this out for weeks, they can tour together and support each other. They will be the next big thing. Sparrow if you don’t go through with this, I will terminate your contract with Stark Records.” It was getting harder to breathe, the air felt stifling, she could hear Clint calling Tony something before he stormed out of the room. Suddenly someone was beside her holding her hand, and she knew it was Bucky. 

“But what about my contract surely you can’t just take it away from me because I refuse to get married.” Sparrows’ voice cracked as she looked to Sam than Tony, as her pointer finger tried to make contact with her thumb, but Bucky held her hand tighter. 

“I looked Sparrow and in your contract under clause 12 article 1, it says at any point in which you don't fulfill any request or obligation given to you by Tony Stark or Pepper Potts, they have the right to terminate your contract.” Sam handed over the very contract Sparrow had signed at 21, without her parents beside her or a lawyer, for that matter. He had the part he was talking about highlighted in lime green. This was real, she could very well have her record contract taken from her.

“Sam, Tony can you give me and Sparrow a few minutes alone.” Bucky continued to hold Sparrow’s hand as she stared at the contract. His heart went out to her it truly did, he remembered what it felt to feel as if the world was out to get him when he was barely acknowledged by fellow country artist, producers wanted to control his sound. He found his backbone, kept his true friends closer and stood up for what he believed in, his family. 

When they were alone Bucky got up from the table and pulled Sparrow along with him, remembering the door Maggie Lake had come through, as the kitchen, he leads them through there. At the breakfast nook was leftover ice water from breakfast, he quickly pulled a chair out for Sparrow to sit, before pouring the water. Once he was sure they were alone and some of the color had returned Sparrow’s face he took her hand again. 

“Sparrow I need you to listen to me and I need you to listen to me well. I’m on your side and I know in the end we’ll make a great team but you just have to hear me out.” setting her glass down she turned her body so it was facing him and he had her full attention. “As much as the media likes to think I’m with every girl I’m seen with I’m not. I haven't been with anyone since Delores Smith, and she, she broke my heart, Sparrow. I haven't had time for anyone, I’m always on tour, in the studio recording or I’m promoting a single. I need someone who understands me and I think that if you give us a shot, a real shot to fall in love like I’m willing to try, I think we could have something.” pulling her hand from Bucky’s she started to pull her hair up but he got up and moved up behind her. Suddenly he was putting her hair in a French braid. 

Sparrow felt like she owed this to everyone in her life to do this. She owed this to her parents who worked so hard year after year, album after album of her own dads to this. She owed this to her siblings who cheered her on, but especially Bey and Peter who had known what it felt like to feel so lost. Scott, she for sure owed him, he had taken her song and put it on the airways of his music show, got her played all across North America, taking her directly himself to Tony Stark. Scott had helped her get signed. She really owed it to Clint, who took his only child on the road with them, looked out for her like a big brother did. He had given up so much to be her guitarist and he showed no signs of stopping. How could he let not only them down, the fans but herself? 

“I promise you Sparrow Lake we are in this as a team.” Bucky gave her his signature half-smile as held out his left pinky to her, biting her lip she hooked her right one with his. 

“Don’t make me regret this Barnes, and I hope you are prepared for this family because you have no idea what you have gotten yourself into.” talking as she watched Bucky get down on one knee, she laughed when he reached into his skin-tight jeans to pull out a purple velvet box.

“Sparrow India Lake, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife and my best friend, that drives Sam crazy with me?” opening the velvet box sat a beautiful ring that Sparrow recognized right away as a ring she pointed out to her sister-in-law when they were out shopping. 

“Yes, yes James Buchanan Barnes, I would love to drive Sam crazy with you as well as become your best friend and wife.” Bucky took the elegant celestial ring from its holder and placed it on her left ring finger, making it very official. Sparrow Lake was on her way to becoming Sparrow Lake-Barnes.

#the-omni-princess1kwritingchallenge #bucky barnes x ofc #countrymusicstar!Bucky x ofc #Country Music Star! Bucky #country music au #james buchanan barnes #fanfiction #ktk writes #tony stark #tony stark x pepper potts #sam wilson #omc x ofc #clint barton #OFC #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel imagine #marvel au #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fandom

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Makin’ Whoopee

Summary:  The Sugardrops are in need of a pianist, and who better to fill the role than newly-minted 18yr old Bucky Barnes.  The charismatic front lady known as Sugar gives him an opportunity he can’t refuse, in exchange for something precious; his innocence.

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x OFC

Word Count:  5.5k

Warnings:  18+.  Mentions of the state of racial relations synonymous with the 1940s, injury that’s speculated to be related to hate crime, plenty of flirting and smut at the end.

A/N:  One shot written for @the-omni-princess​‘s 1k follower writing challenge filling the prompt of Band AU.  Congrats on the milestone your majesty, and thank you for letting me take part :)  The character of Sugar is styled after Mae West with the looks of Rita Hayworth, Nick is based on comic book Nick Fury rather than Samuel.L. and the encore song is performed like Michelle Pfeiffer in The Fabulous Baker Boys.  Enjoy!

Cassidy’s Bar.  He’s only ever been in here once, when his cousin Nora had gotten married to that rat-faced asshole, Billy?  Bobby?  Barry? It was something ending in ‘y’, anyway, and that’s exactly what his Ma had said; why?

Turned out the why was babies and the who was Mr Rat-face and the when was, well, so far before the question of marriage that poor Nora was round on her wedding day.

They had the same seats at the bar, Bucky thinks, him and his uncle Tony.  One beer was all he was allowed the first time, but tonight, uncle Tony is on a mission.

“Happy Birthday, kid.” The older man clinks his glass against the one warming in Bucky’s grasp, a man’s amber fire to the boy’s weak beer. “Drink up and I’ll get you another before the band starts.”

Gulping the bitter draught down, Bucky feels it warm his guts, loosening knots inside him he didn’t even know were there.  It’s his third pint, and though he’s had beer at home, he’s never had more than one in a bar where the dim lights and choking smoke are making him feel woozier than the drink.  He’s never felt like one of the men and never thought of himself as one, not even now.

Whoops and whistles. That’s how you know there’s a dame on the stage.  She’s pretty, too, Bucky thinks, watching her slink over to the manager in a dress made of green satin and what looks like liquid suns dripping from her shoulders.  It’s much too classy for a place like this and Bucky wonders if she’s some Hollywood starlet fallen from grace with her auburn waves and lips as red as victory.

Stunning.  He’s changed his mind, there’s nothing pretty about her.  She’s sexy as sin and all the men know it, hell, even she knows it.

Tony is already pushing another drink into his hand as he leads Bucky to a table by the stage, a smaller glass that tinkles as he walks.  One sip and Bucky thinks the beer is better, this stuff burns as it evaporates off his tongue.

“Looks like we got ourselves a problem.”  The starlets voice is smooth and sultry, if a little husky.  “Sammy can’t play.  It’s his hand, see.”

Her dark-skinned companion is nursing a busted hand that looks far worse than just bloodied knuckles from a fight.  If Bucky didn’t know better he’d have said the man met with a car door, a hammer, or a vicious bootheel; integrated bands are something of a controversy, hell, integrated anything is.

“Great, just great!” The bar manager groans.  “So what am I supposed to do about it?  Can’t you do without him, sugar lips?”  The bar manager is a beast of a man; jaw like a tank and shoulders to match, buzz-cut that’s a remnant from military service and an eye-patch that lends nothing but intimidation to his demeanour.

“Gee, I dunno, Nick!” One hand fists against the sassy cock of her hip, she lets rip with the sarcasm.  “Can a piano do without its pianist?”

Nick scoffs wordlessly, chewing the end of his cigar.

“A girl needs a good ivory pounder.”  She says with a wink, her tone suggestive enough to make Nick’s ears turn red. “Sam’s my best guy.”

“He ain’t poundin’ nuthin’ for a while.”

“More’s the pity.” She sidles up to him seductively, there is nothing subtle about her play, even Bucky can see she’s trying to manipulate the man.  “You got any hidden talent around here you been keepin’ from me?”

In the moments between her wink and the soft glide of her hand down the front of his shirt, Nick’s face turns pink, then red, and he’s choking on smoke.

“Help a girl out?”  A tempting pout and the flutter of eyelashes punctuate her request.

“I’ll ask around.”  He says with a tight smile as the starlet turns with a sway of her hip and sashays away.

The gents in the lounge are rowdy now, after catching a glimpse of the much-anticipated leading lady. The call for attention is barely heard but word passes between the tables that they’re asking for a pianist.

“You should get yourself up there.”  Uncle Tony nudges Bucky with his elbow, an almost proud look on his face.

“Play piano in front of all these people?”  Bucky has never been the nervous type, but he is now.  He’s only ever played the piano for the family at home, and the teachers and pupils at the music school.

“Sure, kid!”  Tony claps him on the shoulder.  “You’re as good as any of ‘em.”

“I dunno, uncle Tony.” Bucky sinks down in his seat, almost sensing what’s coming next.

“Hey!”  Tony is on his feet, waving to the hefty bar manager. “I got a pianist!”

There’s laughter all around, because Tony sounds like he just said ‘penis’, and that makes Bucky even more mortified when Nick is suddenly stood in front of them.

“You play?”  Nick is gruff and down to business.

“My nephew.”  Tony hits Bucky on the arm with the back of his hand, a gesture that says ‘sit up straight’.

“How old are you, kid?” Narrowed eyes scrutinise, and Bucky blanches.  He’s old enough to be in here but he feels so out of place he still doubts he belongs.

“Eighteen today, sir.” Bucky steels himself.  He’s not going to be this nervous kid.  He’s Bucky Barnes, confident and charming, and most definitely not intimidated by a piano, a beautiful redhead and a burly bar manager (eye-patch or not).  At least that’s who he wants to be.

“And you play?”

Bucky nods.

“Come with me.”

Tony is stuffing the tumbler into his hand again and pushing him out of his seat towards the stage with a cheer.  There’s a bit of shuffling as Bucky finds his stride.  Chairs scrape out of the way as he passes and it feels like he’s walking the plank; shark infested waters are all around him, the men sneer a little at the sight of him, just a boy, being lead backstage where the starlet and her band are getting ready.

Backstage isn’t as glamourous as Bucky thought it would be.  The reception room is dingy and cramped, merely a glorified store room compared to the plush furnishings and flattering lighting that he imagined. Eight sets of eyes turn to stare at him as he enters behind the mountainous Nick.  He’s intimidated and starting to sweat but that’s the least of his worries when a swathe of red hair and green satin is invading his personal space.

She looks him up and down with a sly smirk.

“I know I like ‘em young, but I’m not one for wet nursing.”  It’s salacious, the tone she uses, almost like she’s purposefully trying to ruffle feathers.

“He’s not for your boudoir, Sugar, he’s for the piano.”

“Oh, why not?”  She winks subtly, pulling her lips into a playful smile.  “A man in the boudoir is worth two on the street.”

“Sugar…”  Another redhead chastises.  She’s older but there’s a resemblance, sisters, maybe cousins.

“Oh, alright, spoil my fun.” Sugar plucks the drink from Bucky’s hand, fingertips brushing lightly against him leaving a trail of goosebumps coursing up his arm.  Her eyes never leave his as she lifts the glass to her painted lips and sips.  “I always get what I want, eventually.”

She’s turning away from him and his glass is back in his hand like it never left, save for the scarlet red print that perfectly resembles the fullness of her lower lip. Bucky swallows.  She’s a dangerous woman and he knows she can chew him up and spit him out in ruins, but hell if he’s not willing to let her do it.

“Sam’s the name.”  The dark-skinned fellow interrupts, introducing himself and offering his uninjured hand to shake.  His injuries are hidden by off-white crepe and gauze now, out of sight out of mind for the rest of the band.

“James.”  Bucky clears his throat.  “James Barnes.  But my friend’s call me Bucky.”

“You read music, James Barnes?”  ‘Sugar’ levels a torturously flirtatious glance over her bejewelled shoulder. Everything about her screams seduction and sexuality; she’s unashamedly feminine but predatory like no woman he’s ever seen.

“Yes, ma’am.  I do.”  Bucky battles his nerves.  “And I can play by heart.”

Sugar turns, a slow blink fanning her long lashes against her rosy cheek before she’s dragging her eyes up his body.  “Show me.”

In the corner of the room is a busted upright piano that is much in need of repair.  It’s older than his grandpa’s but the keys are clean and it looks to work.

“You want me to play here?” He should have known there would be an audition.

“Scared to show us the goods, kid?”  And older gentleman with dark curly hair shifts in his seat, his hands are large and his fingers thick and calloused.  He isn’t stocky but he isn’t a beanpole either, and he’s got a nervous tick, just below his right eye which tells Bucky the man has a temper.

“Bruce is right.” Sugar purred, leaning closer.  “An ounce of performance is worth pounds of promise.”  Moist pinkness pokes playfully at the corner of her perfectly pained mouth, the teasing tip of her tongue then sweeps her upper lip deliciously.

Bucky jumps into action, if only to distance himself from the sight and scent of the woman who seems hell bend on turning him into a mess of jangling nerves and tight trousers.

The stool is hard but the perfect height.  Bucky runs his fingers over the keys, rippling out scales to test the instrument’s tuning.  His music school diploma kicking in as he opens the booklet of sheet music at the first page.

It’s a tense moment as he starts to play, finding that some of the music has been amended in a chicken-scratch scrawl, little finesses added here and there and a different tempo, but Bucky knows the song.  He bangs out Puttin’ on the Ritz, relaxing into the music as a tall mousy-blonde man in his late twenties, sits by the piano and taps out a percussion rhythm on the wood, and the older redhead starts to sing along.  Her voice is quite lovely, Bucky thinks.

Sam nods approvingly but Sugar isn’t completely convinced.

“Play me something you think I’ll like.”  She says. “From the heart.”  The last words are tainted with a sigh.

Bucky thinks he knows the perfect song.  It’s more of a joke than anything, the reason it pops into his head is purely because of her salacious innuendos.  It starts off a little jerky, as he plays some of the string and trumpet parts on the piano but when the tune fully kicks in everyone is laughing, even Sugar is grinning.  The blonde picks up the beat, tapping on his legs and the side of the piano, curly-haired Bruce is humming and boom’ping in time as a bass, and a tiny blonde kid he’d never seen plays a mock trumpet.

When Sugar starts to sing ‘Makin’ Whoopee’, it’s somethin’ else.  The cadence of her voice is just like she is, rich, velvety and incredibly seductive.  She comes to sit on the stool next to Bucky, swaying and snapping her fingers along with the music.  As far as impromptu jams go it wasn’t half bad, and the mood is suddenly lighter when the song is done.

“Well, aren’t you full of surprises, James Barnes.”  Sugar adjusts a piece of his hair that has fallen out of his smoothly combed do.

“It’s just Bucky.”  He sighs bashfully, almost melting at her proximity.  Red lacquered nails and glistening red lips, soft cascading waves of copper leading his eyes down from her face to the sweetheart line of her dress and a scandalously deep cleavage he has no business staring at.

Suddenly he’s being pulled to his feet and introduced to the rest of the band.  Peter is the percussionist, he’s easy-going and a bit of a joker.  The little guy is Steve, he’s the trumpet player but, like Bucky, he can play a few instruments, just not the piano.  Bruce plays the double bass.  The older redhead is Natasha, she’s on backing vocals with another redhead called Wanda and yet another redhead called Gamora.  Bucky notices that Wanda and Gamora aren’t natural redheads but they all fit together so well it’s hard to notice from afar.

The lounge looks completely different from where he’s stood at the edge of the stage behind a dusty red curtain.  He can see uncle Tony drinking a pint and laughing with a guy at the adjacent table, no doubt talking about how proud he is of his nephew, god knows his daughter is a disappointment; poor Nora who got pregnant before she was married.

Bucky necks his drink. The ice has already melted but it does little to quench the burn of the whiskey, still, liquid courage eh?

Soon he’s being ushered out onto the stage with the rest of the band.  There’s a light smattering of applause and a huge cheer from uncle Tony as Bucky takes his seat at the grand piano.  Sam is there with songbooks and a list of tunes they’re going to play tonight.

“Any of these you don’t know?”  Sam hands him the paper and it shakes in Bucky’s fingers.

They’re all covers, of course, a small band can’t put out original songs in a lounge like this and earn a living.  They’re all fairly recent songs, too, keeping up with current trends.  Bucky knows them all well enough to play them by heart, but Sam likes to make notes on the sheet music to tweak the songs a little more to fit their ensemble.

Bucky scans down the list, smiling when he sees songs like Daddy, Blue Champagne, and Strange Fruit. He can imagine Sugar singing them, how wonderfully they will work with her voice.

“I think so.”  Bucky nods, confidence building through the panic because he knows he can do this.

Another glass of whiskey is set atop the piano for him and Sam is leaving with a reassuring pat on the shoulder, leaving him to stare at the crowds in the lounge, leaving him to the adrenaline and the nausea in his guts.

Suddenly there are whistles and whoops, that’s how you know the dames have hit the stage.  The three backing singers stroll on, waving and smiling brightly.  Bucky is surprised to see Wanda carrying a fiddle; she’s like him and little Steve, multi-talented.

And there’s Sugar.  He sees her before she’s clear of the side curtain.  She’s all confident strides, swaying hips and a non-too-subtle wobble at the sweetheart bodice of her dress.  He barely notices the crowd now all he can hear is the frantic thrum of his pulse whooshing in his ears.  His mouth goes dry as she makes eye contact with him and he feels as though she’s going to walk right past the microphone, right up to him, and show him what those smirking red lips can do.  

But she doesn’t, and her attention is no longer on him but on the crowd.

“Well, hello there Cassidy’s!  We are The Sugardrops!”  Christ she’s just as seductive when she addresses the whole room.  “My, my we’ve got some handsome gentlemen out there tonight, wouldn’t you agree ladies?”  She’s playing up to her girls and to the crowd.  “Tonight, for your entertainment pleasure we’re going to perform a few numbers.”

“YOU CAN PERFORM ON MY LAP, IF YOU’D LIKE!”  A drunken jeer erupts from the crowd, already the men are worked up.

Bucky glances from the dishevelled heckler to Sugar who is giving her most amused smile.

“Oh sweetheart, I’ve been in more laps than a napkin.”  She shifts her weight, popping her hip to the side.  “Yours ain’t nothing special.”

Laughter drowns out the spluttering heckler who is suddenly shoved into his seat by burly Nick, with the warning ‘behave yourself or get out’.

She’s incredible. Bucky thinks.  So confident and sassy.  He’s never seen a woman like her in his whole life.  She’s larger than life, and more alluring than a precious stone.

She clears her throat, pinning him with a stare.

Jumping to action for the second time at her request, he poises himself and waits for the trumpet to start the first song; Nice Work if You Can Get it.

Steve is good, he’s got good lungs for a scrawny kid and he blasts out an intro that’s picked up by Bruce on the double bass.  Then Bucky is joining in and Peter with the subtle snare and high-hat setting a swinging rhythm.  Sugar and the girls croon out the lyrics and Bucky finds himself joining in, bouncing on his stool with the music.

Before he knows it the song is done and he’s barely looked at the music sheet.  It all feels so natural to him, like he’s meant to be here with these people, on this stage, playing his heart out.  It’s been a while since he felt any love for music other than something to dance to, with a girl on his arm, maybe one who’ll let him kiss her at the end of the night, maybe one who’ll let him stroke his hand up to the top of her stockings.

Applause rings out and he can hear uncle Tony cheering.  There’s an exchanged grin and a proud nod from the elder man, tears in his eyes like he’s looking at his own son.  Of course, Tony only had daughters, so Bucky was special to him; a fellow man in the family.

Sugar is peppy as she sings, almost prancing around the stage, energised by the folks who are dancing on the dancefloor in front of the stage.

Hey, listen to my story, ‘bout a gal named Daisy Mae Lazy Daisy Mae Her disposition, is rather sweet and charming At times alarming, so they say

Glass empty and another replaces it, sitting in the same condensation ring that marks its predecessor; Bucky has lost count of the drinks as the songs have flown by.  The swell of emotion in his chest as he pounds or tinkles the ivories as desired, it’s almost euphoric.  So much so, he doesn’t notice Sugar sashaying his way as she sings.

She has a man who’s tall-dark-handsome, large and strong To whom she used to sing this song

She drags her fingertips up his arm as she sings, over his shoulder, neck and into his hair.  Then she spins, resting her back on his, dipping to her haunches and arching her back, earning whistles from the crown, a vicious blush from Bucky and a few fumbled notes of the tune.

Hey, Daddy, I want a diamond ring, bracelets, everything Daddy, you oughta get the best for me

Hey, Daddy, gee, don’t I look swell in sables? Clothes with Paris labels? Daddy, you oughta get the best for me

Bucky is already lost in the sway of her hips and the glistening red of her lips.  She’s singing about champagne and caviar but all he hears are the breathy moments in between the verses where she’s almost gasping for breath.

He can’t remember how many whiskey’s he’s had but he knows now it’s too many.  His skin burns and he needs air but all there is, is the rhythm of the music, the feel of the ivory under the pads of his fingers and a tightness in his groin that’s been building since she first levelled her glittering eyes at him.

Now she’s dancing around him, touching him, and teasing him with her sensuality, he’s already gone. He just prays the music comes out fine.

“You got one more song in you, sweetheart?”  Sugar is leaning over him, her lips brush the shell of his ear and her perfume permeates down into his lungs, heady and so perfect.  She’s got bare shoulders now, the bejewelled bolero jacket that was part of her dress now adorns the top of the piano with several empty glasses.

“One more song?”  He blinks up and her and she grins, stroking his face gently.  The crowd are calling for an encore and Sugar is thriving on their attention.

“Just one more.”  She assures him.  “For me?”

She doesn’t need to ask, he’s already caught in her snare, captivated by the desire in her voice and the heat in her gaze.  He doesn’t know if it’s real, but he doesn’t care.  He’s never been wanted like this by any woman, let alone one as gorgeous as her, and he’s never been so desperate to give a woman what she so clearly craves.

The rest of the band have gone back stage and it’s just the two of them out under the lights.  Bucky feels so nervous all of a sudden he could lose his dinner but when Sugar climbs up on top of the piano, legs curled to the side, he’s more concerned with avoiding the view right up her legs.

Bucky is about to ask, but when she turns to him and winks, he knows what song.

Tinkling the keys, he delves into a soft and seductive jazz melody that’s so perfect for her it’s like her soul is pouring out into the air.  Her grin is astonishing it lights her face up, stripping years off her like she’s closer to his age now instead of in her thirties.

Then she’s melting the words so they come out coy and teasing, and she’s flirting with her whole body; just enough leg, just enough cleavage, a perfectly-timed toss of her stunning red hair, and every time she says the words ‘makin’ whoopee’ his johnson twitches in his pants.  But she’s not doing it for him, she’s doing it for them, or she’s doing it for her, it really doesn’t matter who, he thinks.  She’s right there in front of him and it’s his music she’s moving to, his fingers making the notes that set her on fire, it’s him who she looks back towards and winks at subtly.

Later it’s him who she’s taking by the hand and it’s him whose lips are trailing down her neck. It’s him who is unzipping her dress and trailing his hands over her hips as he pushes the fabric to the floor.  He doesn’t know how he got here but he isn’t complaining, not one bit.

She’s a sight to behold. Her lips are swollen and smeared red where he’s messed her lipstick, and she’s panting as she strips him of his shirt. Once he’s down to his shorts, erection tenting the front, she lifts his hands to her breasts where the stiff fabric of a strapless number presses against his palms.  He stalls out, suddenly not sure what to do.  He’s never gone this far with a girl before, let alone a woman like her.

Her smirk is beguiling as she shoves him backward into a worn, ochre-coloured armchair.  His panic is momentary and he settles, sat forward, watching as she lifts her leg and with toes pressed to his chest, she pushes him back against the cushions.

The teasing way she unhooks her sheer stockings has a wet patch forming in the front of his shorts, the weeping tip of his johnson is eager.  When her legs are bare she turns, presenting him with her clothed bottom. Then she bends, oh so slowly. Dragging her knickers down, exposing herself to him.

She mustn’t know he’s untested in the boudoir (as burly Nick put it earlier in the night), or she wouldn’t be teasing him so much.  His brain is spouting words from the good book, somewhere in the depths; he’s never been one to listen but when they sound like his Ma he can’t help it.  Lead us not into temptation.

“Temptation?”  Sugar chuckles. Had he said that aloud?  “Why resist it?  There’ll always be more.”  She tosses her knickers at him and steps forward.

Straddling his lap she places his hands on her hips as she rolls her body, unclothed womanhood dragging against the hardness in his shorts.  Her bra is unhooked at the back and her perfect breasts spill forward in front of his ogling eyes.

“Touch me.”  She moans softly, spurring him into action.

Kissing his way down her neck and into the valley between her gloriously large breasts, he cups her in both hands and squeezes, rubbing his palms over her nipples until they’re hard. She guides him carefully, showing him how to pinch and play with them, not too roughly but just firmly enough to have her gasping.

“I’ve never…”  He swallows hard.  Bucky Barnes has a reputation as a man all the ladies swoon after, but he’s no match for a woman of her experience.

“I know.”  She moves against him, reaching down until her fingers reach her sex, and she’s stroking herself leisurely.  “I’ve known plenty of men who didn’t know how to please a woman.” She moans, sliding her fingers fully inside herself as Bucky watches, astonished.  “I’ve always found the time to teach every single one of them.”

She lifts her fingers to his mouth and he opens instinctively, feeling the salty sweet slide of her over his tongue.  Lips close around her and he’s drinking her taste down with a groan.  He wants to taste her again so he reaches down, strokes his fingers through the wet heat of her core, not brave enough to push them inside as she had, not yet anyway.  He smears her arousal across her nipple and brings it to his mouth, sucking and nibbling. Just like with his fingers, there’s a balance to be found in the playful bite, firm suck and soothing lick of his mouth.

Soon, Sugar is practically singing for him.  All her sassy flirtations are gone and she’s telling him what she wants.  Her nipples and lips are swollen from his attention and the front of his shorts are soaked with both his and her arousal.  The skin of her neck and chest is flushed red as she grinds against the finger he’s got buried in her womanhood.  The beckoning motion she’d shown him is making his hand ache but he’s too wrapped up in the beauty of her to care.  He’s never seen a woman orgasm before, let alone been the cause. He’s strung tight, excited beyond belief and she hasn’t even touched him yet.

Then he feels it; a tightening of the flesh around his middle finger.  She’s quivering with need, working so hard toward the release she’s desperate for.  It seems to go on forever, like she’s hanging on to the pleasure for grim death, but it’s just not enough.

Feeling bold he pulls back and gives her a second finger, pushing deeper inside her until he can feel the soft spot he was rubbing before.  Digging his fingers in harder, he braces his thumb against the hooded nubbin beneath the whispy red of her pubic hair, and squeezes.

Her wail almost stops him in his tracks but the look on her face compels him to act.  Harder this time he pulls his fingers against her, milking that sweet spot inside until he can feel the spasms start.  Her breathing is erratic and she’s gyrating in his lap, shaking and moaning as her body spasms around his hand.  It’s powerful, the way her muscles work and even when they start to die down, Bucky carries on.

“Too much.”  She stills his hand with her own.  She looks so beautiful, all flushed and satisfied. He wants her, wants to be in her, to feel with his prick what he felt with his fingers.

His mouth is on hers as he thrusts his hands under her thighs and stands.  She squeals and clings to him a moment before she realises what’s happening.  He’s about to deposit her on the floor of her dressing room when she halts him.

Bucky has never seen a condom before.  He’s heard about them; standard issue for the army to stop the soldiers from catching venereal disease, and to stop them from fathering children in every city they visit. Sugar winks as she rolls the rubber down his erection.  It feels strange and tight against his skin, and through it her hand feels less pleasurable but he moans nonetheless.

A multi-coloured crochet blanket is put down with a pillow from the armchair, and she lies back with her legs spread for him.  The reddened petals of her flower are on display and Bucky feels the urge to taste her. Of course she’s sweet, and slightly musky but less salty than when he tasted from her fingers.  Her legs twitch each time he licks past the hooded nubbin above her entrance, and he fancies that that’s the way he’s going to make her orgasm again.

And he does just that, with her hands buried in his hair and his fingers deep in her once more, pulling gently this time, he kisses and licks her until she’s shaking and moaning for him.

“I like a man who pays attention.”  She smirks as he stares up at her with a look that’s no doubt revering.  “I like a man who makes me scream even better.”

With her hand on his shoulder, she urges him forward until he’s hovering over her, afraid to lay his weight on her.  It’s with a throaty giggle that she wraps her thighs around his hips and pulls him down, reaching between them to place the tip of his throbbing prick against her heat.

“Don’t keep a girl waiting.” She slaps his bare butt cheek.  “I might go find what I need elsewhere.”

With a determined grunt, Bucky pushes into her, pushes against the resistance of her flesh, pushes into the pleasure that shoots down his prick and tightens something low between his hips.  It feels so much different than touching himself, a less intense pleasure but there’s more of it, singing to the nerves in his abdomen and all the way up into his chest.

Sugar rolls her hips, urging him to move, and with her hands on his hips and her feet hooked under his buttocks she guides his movement, drawing from him smooth deep thrusts that hit all of the right spots for her and have him seeing stars before too long.

“I can’t… keep this… up.” He grunts, slightly ashamed that he can’t last.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She arches her back and sighs. “I’m close.  Keep going.”

Bucky is panting heavily as the pleasure overwhelms him.  Sugar is writhing and moaning beneath him and he can feel her muscles around him start to quake.

She’s going to climax, he thinks with joy.  She’s going to climax while I’m inside her.

That’s it for him, the pulsing pleasure coursing down his spine, all around his prick and tingling over his scalp – it’s amazing.  He spills into the condom but continues to thrust into her until she’s spent.  Then and only then does he collapse forward with a disbelieving chuckle.

“This is the first time I ever known a woman like you.”  He kisses her lips but she’s already turning away, rolling him off her to get some air.

“If I have my say, it won’t be the last.”  She winks but there’s no gleam in her eye.  She lights a cigarette and falls back onto that god-awful ochre chair.

“I don’t know if I should thank you or worship you.”  Bucky notices that she seems diminished somehow, like her light has gone.

“I wouldn’t say no to both.” She’s looking up, not at him, as she blows smoke up to the ceiling.  “Are you free tomorrow night?”

“For you, yeah.”  He’s coming across eager but he doesn’t care. A lot of the effects of the whiskey are fading and he knows what he’s doing.  He wants to see her again, to feel her again.

“What about the night after that?”

“Yes.”  The condom comes free with a dull twang.

“And the one after that?”

“Sure.”  He’s pulling on his shorts.

“Next week?

“Absolutely.”  Bucky kneels in front of that horrific chair.

“Next month?”  She asks, and he knows better than to think she wants a relationship. Someone like her could never be tied down.

“I’m free whenever you want me.”  He flashes her his most charming and cheeky smile.

Her laugh is stifled behind that coy smirk she favours as she swings the leg that’s cocked over the arm of the chair.  Her naked breasts and her womanhood are unashamedly and fully on display.  Hell, if it didn’t send tingles of desire down into his gut again.

“Oh, I want your fingers alright.”

“Just my fingers?”  He flirts back.

“For the purposes of the contract, yeah sweetheart, just your fingers.”  The smoke from a long drag is blown in his direction.  “The rest can be our little secret.”

“Contract?”  Bucky balks, confusion sending a jolt to his chest.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” The gleam is back in her eyes, and her sultry smile teases the corners of her plush mouth once more.  “Welcome to The Sugardrops, James Barnes.”

#the-omni-princess1kwritingchallenge #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x ofc #1940s bucky barnes #band au #smut #bucky barnes loses virginity #fan fic #i write fanfiction #bucky is bae #makin' whoopee #long one shot #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fic #cloudy's writing

[notyetneedcoffee]

I liked crossroads, it’s really good writing! But I don’t like Steve in it. He did come back but he said he loved Peggy and he also kissed her. And the reader doesn’t know?! If I knew that I’d feel devastated and betrayed :’(

I’m sorry that you would feel that way.

As someone who has lived a while, and been in love a few times - times that ended because of circumstances, not drama - I personally can attest that if you really love someone, it may change but it never really goes away. That’s the way I see Steve’s love for Peggy. They will always love one another, even though life kept them apart and their hearts opened to loving someone else.

As to his desire for closure - which yes, included him kissing her - I believe the reader would know Steve well enough to completely understand that Peggy was his ultimate unfinished business. She was worried, scared even, but he came home to her. What’s more, he came home WHOLE. That is something to be thankful for.

Again, drawing from my own experience, part of really loving someone is realizing what you are capable of doing together and what must be done alone to grow as people. It’s hard to give the person you love the space to do that sometimes. Steve had to fix the pieces inside himself, something only he could do. He did it without destroying Peggy’s life. He did it without destroying the reader’s.

And sometimes, Nonny, a kiss given to someone you love... even if it’s your first true love from decades ago... is just the most sincere way to express how you feel. It’s not about sex.

#Crossroads Response #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #the omni princess1kwritingchallenge