#bucky barnes series
call it what you want | b.b.
my baby’s fit like a day dream, walking with his head down, i’m the one he’s walking to
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
warnings: just beautiful domestic fluff
word count: 2155
summary: bucky uses touch and you use words.
note: the world’s a little blurry is BACK BABY this is my on going one shot series between bucky and the reader! they don’t need to be read in order but they do fit into a bigger narrative. :)
you approach bucky from behind— for a moment, you think you’ve surprised him as you touch his shoulder blades. but he relaxes easily into your touch, pouring himself a low glass of whiskey from a crystal decanter. you didn’t even know that you had a decanter-- or whiskey.
if you could pick any way to frame bucky in your minds eye for the rest of your life, it would be just like this. the remnants of a cold winter still cling to the new york air, but spring is hopefully trudging through to the other side, leaving the air outside crisp and fresh. something that’s rare for brooklyn. your windows are open and you allow the light breeze to travel inside. bucky’s arms are bare-- he wears a simple black t shirt.
how is it that a black t shirt can look so good?
you’re thankful that bucky is home. it has felt like it has been a lifetime-- you’ve been working overtime in order to keep yourself busy, and to keep yourself from your incessant worrying. you have to remind yourself that you don’t have the average boyfriend. you have a super soldier avenger boyfriend. it’s going to be different.
but you had watched in horror at what john walker had done in latvia. you had felt your stomach turn inside out and you couldn’t help but call bucky. you had tried not to call or text too often-- you trust him, and you trust that he’s doing what he needs to do. there’s a piece of you that doesn’t want him to think you’re just sitting at home and fussing over him.
but fuck that.
you had called, and he had answered. and one of the first things he said was, “i’m coming home to you.”
later, you would find out that karli had threatened you, and had threatened sam’s sister. later, you would find out that you would be taking a flight out to louisiana.
you were in the middle of packing when you had walked out into the kitchen and found bucky there. even from here, you can see how tense he is-- you were troubled by what you saw on tv with john walker and the flag smasher. you can only imagine seeing it in person-- seeing what was once steve’s being used for something so horrible.
you lay your head between his shoulder blades and you can feel him begin to ease. your fingers trail up his arms, and you bite back a laugh as he tries to refrain from the shiver that runs up his spine. “hi,” you murmur into the cloth of his shirt.
“hi, yourself.” bucky turns around and pushes your hair back. “y’alright?”
“i just love that shirt on you,” you admit with a shy smile. “so handsome.”
color blossoms on his cheeks and he covers his eyes with a hand. “you do this to get a reaction out of me, don’t you?”
you poke his stomach and you nod your head, biting down on your lip, trying to conceal a cheeky grin that threatens to break to the surface. “of course i do.” he catches your hand and he brings it to his lips. a chaste kiss against your knuckles. “what?”
he shrugs one shoulder and casts his gaze at you. “i missed you.”
every part of falling in love with bucky has been an adventure. but watching him become honest with himself, and with his feelings, and with his emotions… watching him unfurl before you has been a beauty. a wonder. the fact that you get to see it first hand, and know that it’s you that gets this opening… it makes something stir in your stomach every single time.
“i always miss you,” you admit, though you’re a lot less shy about it than bucky is. “always.”
bucky’s hands brush over the sides of your face, fingertips against your cheek bones. you know that this hasn’t been easy for him. it has been many, many years since he has fully allowed himself the luxury of comfort, and such an abundant amount like he has with you, no less. you know that sometimes he’s not sure the right things to say. but you’ve never cared. you have loved him anyway, and because of it.
you can feel his shaky breath rumble low in his chest. “i’m sorry,” he whispers, all low and vulnerable in that way that you know is so difficult. “that it has to be like this.”
like this translates more so to late nights spent alone, wondering if he’ll return. hoping that he’s okay. hoping that he’s smiled that day. but none of that matters. it doesn’t matter more than the love you feel for him, anyway.
you shake your head and you run your hand up and down his arm, the metal one. “don’t be,” those pretty eyes stare into yours. “you’re worth it. more than worth it. you’re--”
the words are stolen from your mouth and swallowed by his kiss, the soft brush of his hand against your cheek. this has always been the way he felt best at conveying his emotion towards you-- the words are tricky, but he has learned over the course of a lifetime just how much touch can affect another person. if you can help it, you will never let a hurtful thing touch him ever again.
when he comes home with bruises blossoming like wildflowers littered across his torso, you could kill anyone who ever caused him hard. in this decade and decades past.
your lips part and you sigh into him, holding onto him. his grip on your face is firm but still delicate, like you are precious glass that could break with the wrong touch.
bucky uses touch, you use words.
“i wish i could show you,” your nose brushes along his jaw. “how i see you.”
you don’t have to look at him to know that he’s smiling, to know that the familiar color has risen back to his cheeks. he takes a step back to get a good look at you, to take you in. another light breeze runs through your apartment and you feel it into your bones, or maybe that’s just the affect of such an intense gaze, and his eyes never leave you.
“i’m trying.” he gives a tight smile. and you know that it’s true. he is trying.
your fondness slips into a cheeky grin and your hand reaches out and smacks his ass. “you better be,” you say in a sing song voice, turning on your heel to trot off to your room to finish packing.
he follows after you with a grumble and your laughter fills the apartment, trailing out through the open window.
a groan leaves your lips and you snuggle further into bucky’s shoulder. you feel fingers run through your hair, metal fingertips trailing along your scalp. it makes your breath hitch and your eyes finally flutter open, meeting his heavy gaze. there’s a lopsided smile on his face. “good morning, sleeping beauty.”
you smirk, eyes falling shut once more. “i could joke about you being old here, but i’m not going to.”
you feel the rumble of his laugh and you begin to rouse, stretching in your seat. bucky’s hand goes to your thigh and he glances out the window of the plane, watching as louisiana comes into view. you’d taken a red eye, because even avengers have to budget on flights, and you can see the faintest hint of a sunrise on the horizon.
glancing back over at bucky, you squint. “did you sleep at all?”
“someone had to keep watch.”
you gape at him. “are you serious?”
“as a heart attack.”
“we’re on a plane! what was going to happen?”
bucky shrugs. “didn’t want to find out.”
you let out a sound of exasperation, but he smiles, squeezing your thigh. “i’ll sleep at sam’s.” he turns your face to him. “swear.”
chewing on the inside of your cheek, you finally nod, rolling your eyes and mumbling something under your breath about so protective, and bucky won’t admit it, but it makes your heart swell.
the two of you get stares walking through the airport, and it doesn’t surprise you-- not when bucky’s arm is on display in all of its glory, catching the faint light of the orange sunrise in front of you at moments. glancing over at him, you could do a happy dance, seeing him look so at peace in his own body. his hand doesn’t leave yours as you weave through the airport, emerging to baggage claim, where sam stands there with a hand in his pocket and a sign that says lovebirds on it.
bucky’s scowl makes your whole day.
the moment you got to sarah’s house, you felt right at home. her boys were sweet, and so fascinated by bucky and the shield, it did things to your heart. you helped sarah with dinner and you all sat around that table the first night, sam and sarah swapping stories about their childhood, seeing who can embarrass who more.
you liked seeing this side of sam. it made the rest of him make sense, in the best way.
sam was off to a meeting-- someone named isaiah, and sarah went off to bed not long after, leaving just you and bucky, sat upon the couch you two would be sharing during your trip. his arm is draped across the back, his frame staying close to yours.
your whole face lights up. “you’re tired!” you exclaim as if it’s a delight. you grin, immediately standing and beginning to fluff out blankets, get pillows ready for your night of rest. it was going to be a pinch, but sharing a smaller couch with your hot boyfriend wasn’t exactly a gripe.
bucky stares at you with endless amusement, a twinkle in those beautiful blue eyes, keeping his arm across the back of the couch as you continue to flit around and prepare it for your slumber. “i’m not that tired…”
“don’t care,” you say with a contented smile, finally settling into the couch, draping your legs over his lap as he stays upright. “it’ll be a tight squeeze, you know.”
“really?” bucky asks, his hand going to your ankle. his thumb moves up and down the arch of your foot. (you’d bitched at the airport about your feet hurting, off hand. you wore your tallest platform boots that you didn’t want to pack in your suitcase.) “that’s a shame.”
you hum, a smirk on your face. “we’re going to have to stay real close.”
“well,” he leans down, coming face to face with you. “that’s gonna be a big problem for me.”
your eyebrows raise at him, and delight and intrigue mix on your face, and your hand goes to the back of his neck. “i can always find a hotel--”
his lips crash on yours, killing any other thought that you had in your head. all that there is is bucky, his touch, his lips, his kiss. it’s intoxicating in the best way, and your fingers rake down his scalp, pulling him down more and more and--
a light flicks on, and you hear a hissed, “shit, sorry!”
your and bucky’s heads turn in sync. aj, sam’s nephew, forgets to turn the light off as he spins on his heel and runs back up the stairs where he came from.
bucky turns bright red. you wake sarah with your raucous laughter.
and when you look at bucky, who has a sheepish smile on his face, his gaze turning back to you…
you’ve always been looking for home. and you’ve found it.
you return back to brooklyn the next week. a late winter, early spring cold front has come over the city, and there’s a frigid chill encompasses you. you’ve never noticed how much you love seeing bucky with his cheeks tinged red, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.
he carries your suitcase effortlessly up your six story walk up, and the sight is enough to have you biting down on your lip, bucky glancing at you over his shoulder with a furrowed brow.
your hand rests delicately on the railing, and gazing up at him, you tilt your head to the side. “i love you.”
bucky’s expression softens. he bounds the rest of the stairs quickly, you following, and once you appear on the landing, he swoops you up in his arms, a kiss to your lips.
how long you stand there at the door to your apartment, you’re not sure. but you’re brought back to reality when he pulls away gently, murmuring, “i love you,” and then, “i’m relieved to be home.” he smirks. “to have finally found a home.”
call this thing what you want-- as much as you feel at home with him, he feels it just as strongly.
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Friendship is Mandatory (2)
[Bucky Barnes x Reader]
Word Count: 2727
Summary: Bucky settles in and gets to know his new roommate better.
A/N: I don’t know if anyone else is proud of me for getting back into a regular writing schedule, but I SURE AM
Chapter 1 if you missed it
@star-spangled-bingo 2021 Bingo Square Filled: Roommates AU
Bucky was in the process of stuffing his duffel bag under the bed when he heard a soft knock on the door. It was open, a reasonable gap of about four inches, but when he stepped closer, you weren’t even looking in, eyes fixed on the wall above instead.
“You can come in, you know,” he said, slightly endeared by your determination to not invade his privacy even accidentally. “It’s open.”
“Didn’t want to disturb you,” you said with an apologetic smile.
“Oh, I’m done. I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t have much,” he gestured ruefully at the sparse room.
A bed with a single grey blanket, a nightstand, a small drawer unit, and a TV. The furniture wasn’t the problem, now that he only had a bedroom to fill. But the room felt… soulless. Besides the bag under the bed and a small stack of secondhand paperbacks on the nightstand, he had next to no personal effects.
“Okay, well… Um, did you have anything you wanted to put out in the… common areas? Or…?” You pointed over your shoulder.
“I don’t know that I have anything to spare,” he joked weakly, and you glanced around the room with a shrug.
“I can take your jacket though, if you want. Hang it by the door.”
Ah, yes. That. It was probably past time to rip that particular band-aid off. He doubted the vibranium arm reveal would come as much of a surprise. Even if you hadn’t recognized him when you first met, you had almost certainly looked up your future roommate later that day. And Bucky didn’t exactly have a common name.
He shrugged out of the jacket, and you took it with an easy smile, draping it over your forearm as you backed towards the door.
“Now for the actual reason I came in here: I ordered food if you’re hungry. I wasn’t sure what you liked so I ordered like… three different pizzas. And salad. And cheesecake. And wine.” You laughed at the surprised look on his face.
“That’s very nice of you. Thanks.”
“It’s a super cool roommate thing, so get used to it,” you said with a wink.
Your walk was an excited little half-skip as you crossed to hang his jacket by the door. When you turned back towards him, you gestured dramatically to the coffee table. A tower of cardboard boxes and plastic bags dominated most of the surface, leaving barely enough room for the dishes. Two coral colored plates, two wine glasses, two forks, and a corkscrew.
“I thought eating in here might make things feel less weird and formal,” you explained, pulling cushions off the couch and dropping them on either side of the table. “Cool?”
“Yeah that’s - ” He broke off with a scoff when you plopped down onto one of the cushions with a triumphant smile. “That sounds good.”
Bucky sat down as you unloaded the bags, setting the two slices of cheesecake in their little plastic clamshells on the couch behind you to make more room for the main event.
“Take whatever you want. It’s all to share,” you said as you moved up onto your knees to uncork the wine. “Do you want any of this? Or can I get you something from the kitchen?”
The nervous energy that had been infecting you all day had yet to settle, and you were up and down sporadically as Bucky filled his plate, retrieving extra napkins, a new fork when his fell off the table, and a container of red pepper flakes. When you finally settled, both plates filled and table neatly arranged, you seemed at a bit of a loss. There were several moments of uncertain eye contact before you shook your head violently and let out a huff.
“Right, okay. I have a proposal for you.”
“Go for it.”
“I propose we skip right over all the awkward stuff and just be friends immediately.”
“Oh, is that all?” he asked with a smile.
You shrugged. “I think we can hack it if we try hard enough.”
“Well, I’m open to suggestions.”
You hummed thoughtfully, filling a wine glass and scooting it towards him with a glossy purple fingernail.
“The way I see it… I’m kind of a basketcase, but you are too. So there’s no point being embarrassed by it. And we’ll remind ourselves as often as necessary that neither of us are at our best right now, but we’re both trying to get better. And we can help each other. Thoughts?” You folded your pizza slice and took a hearty bite.
“I can’t believe you just called me a basketcase,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a half smile.
You shrugged, your mouth still full, and Bucky laughed at your unapologetic expression.
“We’re damaged goods, man. What can I say?” you said when you finished your bite.
“Fair enough. Don’t think we know each other well enough yet to be considered friends though. We’ll have to work on that.”
It was your turn to laugh when Bucky took a big bite of his pizza, his whole face lighting up and his eyes going wide at the taste.
“There’s your first lesson about me. I take my food very seriously. I have spent months cultivating a perfect selection of takeout menus. The best places for every kind of food.” You crawled over to the end table, pulling a stack of menus and a blue Sharpie out of the bottom drawer and bringing them back. “Arranged in order of how fast their delivery is.”
“Wow.” He flipped through a few, noting the red and black symbols in the margins.
“Right, so I have a system. You put a dot next to things you want to try. That dot turns into a small circle if it was just okay, a check if you liked it, a star if it's a favorite, and an x if you didn’t like it. I’m red; Megan was black. You can be blue.”
“You really do take your food seriously.”
“Sometimes you want to order in and you don’t want to bother the other person to see what they want. Or they’re in a bad mood, and you want to cheer them up, so - ” You patted the menus fondly. “This solves that problem.”
And your rationale was so unerringly sweet, it made Bucky smile again, something that seemed to happen quite often when he was around you.
“I’ll get to work on those after we eat then.”
You hummed through another bite of pizza, shooting him a thumbs up.
“In the meantime, are you up for the most unimaginative of dinner games? Help us get to know each other better?”
“As long as it doesn’t involve trust falls.”
“Uh, first of all, rude. I would try my very best to catch you,” you said, hand to your heart. “But no, it’s nothing like that. Just taking turns asking a personal and a chill question.”
“Mmm. How personal is personal?” he asked cautiously.
“Politely personal,” you amended. “You can go first if you want.”
“Why did you pick me?”
“To move in?”
“How about… Because you look like a cross between a bouncer and a lost puppy which is -” You clicked your tongue. “- right in the sweet spot.”
Whatever expression he made at that was entirely involuntary, but it made you snort and explain further.
“You look intimidating enough to be a solid deterrent and defense against assholes. But you also have a sad, cuddly thing going on which reassures me you’re probably not a serial killer.”
Bucky frowned. “I’m not cuddly.”
“Further reassurance that you’re not a serial killer since someone who planned to murder me later would definitely not object to me feeling unthreatened,” you laughed, holding your wine glass up as if in a toast.
He sighed, rubbing his hand over his mouth to hide a smile.
“There’s no safe way for me to respond to that, is there?”
“Nope.” You smiled serenely, finally taking pity on him. “Honestly, it was because I got a good feeling about you. I trust my instincts. They’ve never let me down. And…” You hesitated.
“I know you probably don’t believe in fate, but…” You shrugged. “A lot of things had to line up just right for us to meet when and how and where we did. And the therapy thing… I don’t know. Just seemed like the universe was talking to me, so I decided to listen.”
Bucky took a moment to mull that over, nodding slowly.
“What about you? Why did you choose to move in with me?”
He looked up. “That’s what you want to spend your question on?”
“I’m curious,” you said with a shrug. “Not every day I meet someone as impulsive as me. Was it just the ‘meaningful friendships’ thing or…?”
“Well…” He squinted in thought, fixing his eyes somewhere over your head. “It was pretty impulsive at first. I’d just come from therapy, actually, so that was still fresh in my head. But when you asked if I knew anyone who was moving, I just thought about how... unattached I felt to where I was living. And how much the lady across the hall hated me.”
You gave a surprised laugh.
“She hates you? Why?”
Bucky heaved a world-weary sigh, grimacing slightly as he raised his metal hand.
“I’m sure she has plenty of reasons,” he said wiggling his fingers.
“Well, she sounds like an asshole,” you answered matter-of-factly with a purposefully loud sip of wine that made Bucky snort.
“This is another reason,” he said, gesturing towards you with a circular motion. You arched your brow in questions. “You’re just very...”
“Direct,” he countered. “And… vibrant. Like your personality takes up more room than your body does. Kind of reminds me of how Steve used to be.”
You gave a few rapid blinks, clearly taken aback by the compliments, but the sweet smile that followed eased Bucky’s anxiety.
“Thank you,” you said quietly.
He let the moment settle a little before speaking again.
“My turn again?”
“Yep!” You liberated another slice of pizza from the stack of boxes while he thought.
“Are you going to plan your brother’s wedding? You said he’s engaged, right?”
“Oh!” You seemed surprised he remembered, and your face tensed slightly, trying to maintain a neutral expression. “No. They were already engaged when I... came back. They’d hired someone already and were six months into the planning, so it didn’t really make sense to involve me.”
“Are you okay with that?”
“Yeah,” you said with a sad smile, a helpless shrug. “Truthfully, the woman they hired knows them better than I do.”
“You’re his sister,” Bucky protested, but you shook your head with a humorless laugh.
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that people change a lot in five years. Especially those five years.”
“I guess so,” he said, still dissatisfied.
“They offered to put me in the wedding party, but I didn’t feel right about it so… I’ll go, obviously, but just as a guest.”
“When is it?”
“Next year sometime,” you said with a dismissive wave of your hand. “They haven’t sent out invitations or anything, so I don’t remember exactly when. Megan was supposed to go with me, but I doubt that’ll happen now. Traitor.”
There was no venom in your voice, but your hands clenched anxiously, clearly imagining going alone. And, well, it was a long way off. And anything could happen between now and then, but never let it be said that Bucky Barnes isn’t a gentleman.
“You gonna take me with you instead?”
You looked at him with surprised amusement.
“Oh, yeah. I snuck it into the lease,” you joked. “There’s a provision allowing kicking and screaming though, if that helps.”
“Screaming is a little much for a wedding. I’d settle for frowning and mumbling.”
“As long as I don’t have to dance alone, I can deal with a little mumbling.”
“We’ll work something out,” he said with a smile, glad you’d perked up a little. “Your turn.”
You tilted your head, your expression sobering again as you glanced towards his room.
“Can I… You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but I couldn’t help but notice you don’t really have any… personal stuff?
“You want to know why,” Bucky guessed, and you gave an apologetic nod.
“I mean, I can guess why you wouldn’t have had much before, but…. I mean, it’s been a while, right?”
“Yeah, I um…” He cleared his throat. “I guess I’m still not used to the idea of having somewhere... permanent. The last place I had was picked out for me by the same people who used to mandate my therapy. It felt more like a safehouse than some of the actual safehouses I’ve stayed in. It didn’t feel right to really... settle in. Didn’t feel like it was really mine.”
“I could understand feeling a little gun-shy about putting down roots,” you said, and there was no pity in your eyes, only compassion. A little sadness in the curve of your mouth.
“Do you think living here could… help that? Do you feel better here, I mean?”
Bucky took a moment to look around. Art on the walls, a prism hanging in the window and speckling the room with tiny rainbows. Mismatching pillows and blankets draped over the couch. Your personality shone through from every angle, but… Over your shoulder, he could see his jacket hanging on a peg beside the door. And on the mat below, his tired boots sat neatly beside yours. There was a notecard taped to the shelves you’d left empty in the living room, “Bucky’s space” written in narrow, looping cursive, punctuated with a lopsided smiley face.
“I can scale back the decorations if that’s -” you started anxiously.
“Don’t,” he interrupted. “I like the way it looks. I… I do feel better. Here.”
“Yeah?” you asked with a smile. “Well enough that you’ll start nesting? Buying pretty stuff you don’t need but like to look at?”
“You may need to teach me how to do that again. It’s been a while.”
“Bucky Barnes, I would be honored,” you said. “Impulse shopping is an art form.”
He laughed, but you were careful to keep your expression solemn, gesturing for him to stay put while you rushed to your room. When you came back, you were hiding something between your clasped hands.
“May I donate the first item of your collection?” you asked, sinking to your knees beside him and holding out your hands.
Bucky smiled curiously, tapping at your top hand until you moved it away. A large metallic rock glittered in your palm, and you wiggled it slightly to better catch the light.
“Pyrite. It’s one of the first things I ever bought myself. I was kind of obsessed with pretty rocks when I was a kid.”
Bucky looked up quickly. “I can’t take this from -”
“I have like three of them,” you laughed. “It’s okay. Unless you don’t want it, of course.”
“No it’s…” He plucked it carefully from your hand, turning it over between his fingers. “It’s really pretty.”
“Does it spark joy?”
The tone of your voice meant you were probably referencing something, but he didn’t bother to ask because
“Yes, it does.” He huffed out a rueful laugh. “Man, the lies I would’ve told about this when I was a kid…”
“No lies necessary. I bought it from a pirate, so it’s obviously treasure.”
“You what?” he laughed.
“Renaissance festival,” you said through a grin. “The guy I bought it from was dressed like a pirate. Very dedicated. Never dropped the accent the whole time.”
Bucky smiled, looking back down at the rock in his hand. It was such a small thing, but it meant something to you. And when was the last time anyone had given him a present?
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
And he could tell by your expression that this kind of gesture was common for you, natural. But it wasn’t common for him. And he could only hope you understood how genuinely grateful he was for your casual, playful brand of kindness.
“Sure,” you said with a smile and a wink. “What are friends for?”
Bucky is making a friiiiiiiiend. How are we feeling? What are you most excited to see from their little journey together? Comments, questions, predictions, miles of emojis, if it’s in your head, I wanna see it!
Replies, reblogs, and asks make my world go round. Can’t do what I do without you!
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𝘴𝘦𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘴𝘥
𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐬𝐞 / 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞
𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥
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i. ɪᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴇʟʟꜰɪʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ʏᴏᴜ
pairing: AU bucky barnes x fem!reader
other characters: Loki, Wanda, and Steve and more to come
word count: 1.5k
warnings: (this chapter)- angst, ptsd, revenge, abuse, death, burns
a/n: Hello my lovelies, this is the first chapter of my series. It's a bit slow since I'm building up the characters and I promise it will get better in the next few chapters. This is my first series, so please be patient with me. The title banner is mine (I took the picture.. yes I burned a 🌹) others pics/giphs from Pinterest or Tumblr. Red Dividers by @firefly-graphics
(The italicized text refers to past memories)
I apologize if some mistakes appear in my English, as it is my third language. Please share & comment
Series Masterlist (Call Out My Name) Masterlist
The weather was somehow comforting for him, despite the clouds being dark and raining heavily, as most disliked it.
He loved rain, and gloomy weather was not as damaging to him as sunny weather. Although it rained, it actually felt a lot more relaxing than one might expect. The harsh splashes always seemed to be in unison, allowing him to forget about the harsh realities that he faced. His reality was his rose, Y/N.
In spite of all the time they had spent together, she was unable to open up to him, perhaps he misread his rose. Trying to reconcile emotions while holding the picture in his hand, he noticed the smile on his face and understood why it was there.
It was her betrayal that led to her downfall even though her trustworthiness and soft eyes could have made any man trust her. The love he felt for her was evident, he made sure no one but him would experience it.
"I've got to do this roză," he said when he stopped in front of her and glanced deeply into my now-tearful eyes. "P-p-" he cut her off with a fierce kiss.
The light buzz from his phone brought him out of his trance, he glanced down at the screen, Steve?
“Where is she”
“Whenever the storm happens, your darling is on her balcony watching it.”
“I believe that he is on his way. She will look absolutely stunning today, like she always has. And that's when she will be able to move forward with her life."
"Change is upon us, a storm looms, desire burns, a war is beckoning.”
“What do you mean?”
Clouds blanketed the sky, swallowing up morning clouds and leaving behind a foul odor in the air. Nothing but pain filled the air today and tomorrow. You live a reality where each day is filled with pain. You experienced pain. No amount of water will wash it away.
Observing the roses from the vantage point of the raindrops, it looks as if the petals are being caressed. The roses cling to love; everyone yearns for it. You clung to love three years ago. The first time you met love, loved had an entire meaning, but they ripped it from you. The ones that really matter to you. But, they tore it from your heart. You remember.
As your nostrils burned and your eyes fluttered open, a harsh odor filled the air. You croaked out, weak-voiced and desperation-filled. "Please", you requested, "Don't you dare leave me hereI I- love-lov- love , please I-I. ?”
You accepted the heat of death of love that night. Yet here you are, waiting for the next step in fulfilling your destiny. You are not sure how you survived the hell that came your way.
“My Darling” your eyes shifted to the doors “the doctor will arrive soon."
Then, with a final glance at the roses, you started your wheelchair and slowly made your way to Loki and Wanda. Wanda pushed your wheelchair into the common room as she guided you.
"Would you like us to be here when he arrives?" As Wanda stroked your hair, the soft sounds of your wheelchair reached the floor as she stroked it. It's strange how you couldn't stand up for yourself before and now your legs barely work. The wheels spin as if the sounds from the past three years still echo.
It doesn't take long before the doctor approaches you. "Good to see Y/N," he replied, extending his hand and immediately taking a seat beside you. "How are your legs?”
You started to stand from the wheelchair and Loki grabbed your arm and you pushed him away. As you gazed into his blue eyes, you told him, "This is something I want to do on my own. I no longer need the wheelchair, therefore please throw it away."
You pushed one foot forward against the floor and slid it over, this time for real. Your left leg suddenly became weak, and Loki grasped your arm and held you until you were able to stand up again. You clung stubbornly to his arm until it was safe to stand again.
"Y/N, maybe you need a bit more support when you attempt walking. Maybe I can help you..." Loki moved behind you, his arms around you to provide extra support. This time, when your leg buckled, he focused all his attention on keeping it straight, and gradually, you pushed your left foot forward with agonizing force "I want to do it alone. I ha- have- to get it done."
Maintain your strength as you try to pull away from him. Your lips trembled in fear of anguish as the horizon grew dark, determined to make it work this time. It was up to you to make the first move, not rely on them. You took a deep breath and looked around the room. Inhale and exhale.
"Y/N! You're Y/N!" Wanda could not control her excitement. "Loki, look. Look Doctor. You're walking!"
"I did. I did it. I can stand up for myself." You smiled tentatively as you stared down at your feet. "I did it. I did it.” soft whisper to yourself.
Your eyes lit up with joy as you gazed at Loki. "Darling, I knew you could do it! I knew you'd walk again." The soft touch of Loki's lips touched your forehead, and your greatest supporter since the beginning, he would be thrilled when you first moved your finger.
"Miss Y/N, it's time to remove the bandages. Are you ready?" the doctor asked, delicately smiling. You nod and glance in the mirror. Half your face has been covered for the past three years, covering the wrongdoings of others.
The minutes following the removal of the first bandage flash before your eyes as you close them. That memory will haunt you for a while, you'll get strong again, but that dark memory will follow you for a while.
“It was hot, sweating and you were covered in blood on your cheeks. His scoff and kicks caused you to scream in pain and tremble as your chest popped. Your tears caused you to collapse onto your hands and knees as you sobbed.” Your stomach twisted into a web of despair”
"BUCKY!" you cried in agony. After adjusting your eyes once more to the dimly lit room, you were shocked to discover that he had vanished.
"Open your eyes slowly now," the doctor instructed.
After a few moments, you open your eyes slowly. The air feels cold against your face and you stare dumbfounded at the enigmatic woman in front of you. She was the same woman, the only difference being her powerful gaze.
“Y/N, what do you think?” Loki sighed shakily, unsure of how to approach you.
The mirror showed a sense of darkness rising in you. Throughout the room, there was an aura of darkness. You were filled with vengeance and resolve as you looked back at Wanda.
During all those months, Wanda knew what you had planned. She watched the tragic way you broke as soon as you discovered the truth. She knew they left you to burn in that cabin, and she knew he was the one responsible.
As you stood, touched the mirror and looked in the mirror, you felt she was gone and that she was already in hell. Now she would not burn any more because she knew you were already there. You saw the old you leaving that room, looking at yourself in the mirror.
It was as if the storm outside reflected on your eyes and the shadows cast by the light.
In your fierce anger, you repeatedly
"None of them can escape the flames, especially Bucky. I loved him like hellfire. My love for him has been lost and I will never love him ever again. I will endure his death on his knees."
Please share and comment. Let me know what you think.
Tags: @scxrletrecsmarvel @majo240820 @muralskins
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Sanguis Sanguinis Mei | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 4)
MY MASTERLIST || NAYNAY’S MASTERLIST
Summary: A whole decade after James left the clan, Y/N goes after him in hopes of bringing him back home.
Word Count: 1142
Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x Vampire!Reader, Vampire!Natasha Romanoff x Hunter!Steve Rogers
A/N: This fic is a collaboration between @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend and myself, and we decided to write a Vampire AU in honour of Halloween. I’m really excited to share this with you all, because Naynay and I enjoyed writing this so much. Divider credit to @whimsicalrogers!
Those two words had imprinted themselves in Y/N’s mind ever since Natasha had uttered them to her ten years ago.
“What do you mean he’s gone? That’s not possible. He’s- he can’t be. You said the healers could save him!” she cried.
“They did. He’s alive. He made a full recovery. But once he was back on his feet he took off.”
“He took off? Without saying anything?” Her hand reached up to touch the necklace he’d given her just before this all started.
“He said he was sorry. And he asked me to give you this.” Natasha pulled the item from her pocket and offered it to Y/N.
She stared down at the familiar ring before looking back to her sire. “Why?”
“He didn’t say. But my guess is that he wants you to take his place.” The older woman noted.
“But that should be you. He’s your sire. You were his second in command.” While a part of her could not believe that James would ever want her to take his place, she knew that Natasha deserved that honour more than anyone else.
“And I like it that way. I work best in the shadows. You’re better suited for taking over the empire.” Natasha kept her other assumption to herself. It wouldn’t be helpful to share it with Bucky on the run.
“Do you think he’ll come back?” Y/N wondered.
“Eventually. Forever is a long time.”
There was a sigh that escaped her lips upon hearing her sire’s words. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
Y/N toyed with the signet ring, changing it from one hand to the other, as she sat in the back of the cab on her way from Indianapolis to Shelbyville.
“This is it,” the cab driver announced as he pulled up to the estate. “Would you like me to wait for you, Miss?”
“That won’t be necessary. Thank you so much.” She handed over a wad of bills, more than enough to cover her fare and a generous tip. Stepping out of the cab, she smoothed the front of her red and black dress before fluffing her skirt slightly. Her stride was confident as she approached the gate.
A tall man in a dark black suit and even darker hair stepped out of a gatehouse. A witch - she could smell the magic on him.
“Good morning, Miss. How can I help you?” He inquired, his manner quite formal.
“I have an appointment with Mr. Barnes this morning.” Y/N replied.
“I’m quite sure that Mr. Barnes does not have any appointments scheduled today.” He stated, his eyebrow raised at this strange woman.
“It seems you’re mistaken, Mr. Laufeyson.”
“I don’t believe I am. I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Miss.” His eyes were stern at the intruder, though he did not get defensive at that moment.
The phone in the gatehouse rang before he could lay hands on her to escort her off the property. Probably the best for him - doing magic one handed is so troublesome.
Y/N used his distraction to blur past the gate and into the estate. She stopped short just inside the door, James’ scent overwhelming her. She sniffed carefully and picked the freshest scent and followed it to an office on the second floor.
The door was open just a crack and she slipped inside silently. All she could see was the back of his chair, but she knew he’d sensed her presence.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding. You need better security.” She sank down into the chair waiting for him to turn around. “Not even going to look at me after I came all this way?”
A long sigh escaped him as he turned his chair.
Her heart thudded in her chest at the sight of him. The last time she had seen him he’d been lying on a hospital cot burning through a synthetic poison.
“What are you doing here, Y/N?” He inquired.
“I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d drop by.” She quipped.
“Try that again.”
“I’ve come to bring you home. Your clan needs you.” She reminded him.
“Natasha and Steve are on their honeymoon in god knows where, and you are doing just fine on your own. As I knew you would. My clan is better off without me.” Bucky pointed out.
“What are you talking about?”
“I nearly wiped out my clan, Y/N. I nearly killed all three of you. And I would have if it weren’t for your… quick thinking.” His voice was calm. Resigned.
“That wasn’t you, James. You were poisoned. You didn’t have control.” She tried to reason with him.
“Precisely. I underestimated my opponent. I lost control and became the very monster I always feared I would be. And it nearly cost your life. It’s not a mistake I’ll make again.” He sighed.
“James, please. Come home with me.” Y/N practically begged him.
Bucky’s grip on his chair tightened and his jaw ticked as he warred within himself. “I don’t have a home, Y/N. Not with you.”
Y/N gasped, her heart fracturing at his words.
“Well, in that case.” She reached up to unclasp the necklace, but he stopped her grabbing her hand.
She looked up to him, hope blooming for just a moment.
“I told you when I gave you the necklace. There was no one else I could imagine giving it to. It’s yours. Something to remember me by,” he added.
The hope dissipated like smoke.
“I guess that’s that then.” She slipped the ring off her finger but his hand closed around hers once again.
“You have earned the right to lead. You are the leader of this clan. It is yours by blood rite.” He insisted.
“Why?” she couldn’t help the question that slipped out.
“You are meant to rule. I knew it the moment I met you. It’s a shame I won’t be there to see it.”
Fury sparked deep within Y/N. “You could be,” she hissed, eyes glowing red. “You’re choosing not to be out of some bullheaded attempt to what? Save face?”
“I’m choosing this to protect you,” he argued back, trying to keep his temper in check.
“I can protect myself, James. Even from you. You’re just being a coward. So much for the brave Sir James,” she said his title in a breathy tone before scoffing. “Maybe you’re right. The clan does need a stronger leader. One who won’t abandon them at the first sign of trouble.”
“Have a nice eternity, Bucky. Clan Barnes is in good hands.” With that she stormed out of the office before he could utter a word. That didn’t go to plan.
Groaning, Bucky slammed his head against the desk. “How could I be so stupid?”
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Coming In Hot — Masterlist
— Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
— Summary: When your best friend Sarah recommends you a mechanic of her brother’s trust, all you can think about and pray to is that he doesn’t rip you off. Your car is your prized possession and amidst all the worry and concern of your medical studies, drowning in even more debt sounds as suffocating as it would be.
Of course, you never thought of the possibility of the mechanic being the problem. A hot, polite, gentle, and silent-type of problem.
Drowning in debt would be easier to navigate than the blue of Bucky Barnes’s eyes.
— Word count: 70.9k
— Warning(s): Explicit language, angst (a little), explicit sex (Chapter 10).
— A/n: If you enjoy it, feedback is appreciated & highly encouraged and motivates me to write even more. You can consider supporting me on Ko-Fi, as well. Mistakes/errors might be here, let me know if you find any.
Chapter One (15/09)
Chapter Two (17/09)
Chapter Three (20/09)
Chapter Four (25/09)
Chapter Five (29/09)
Chapter Six (01/10)
Chapter Seven (05/10)
Chapter Eight (08/10)
Chapter Nine (13/10)
♫ Soundtrack Inspiration: Coming In Hot, by Adam Lambert
Coming In Hot ♫ Official Playlist
Bronte's Moment (06/10 — Post Chap. 7)
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For the Love of the Game - Masterlist
Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it.
Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/drinking, Mild language, Angst, Minor injury, Smut (Minors dni, marked with **), Enemies to lovers trope!
a/n: Hi!! The main series is now complete! I’ll be posting drabbles/one-shots based on requests! :)
✶ Part One ✶
✶ Part Two ✶
✶ Part Three ✶
✶ Part Four ✶
✶ Part Five ✶
✶ Part Six ✶
✶ Part Seven ✶
Bucky realizing he’s falling in love. Prequel one-shot.
Bucky gets injured during a game
In seven years
💙⚾️Playlist by @buckystarlight
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call me when you want
summary || when you call a sex hotline with a need to be dominated you don’t expect to meet (or hear) someone as wonderful as James. but your life becomes a complicated mess as you already love your coworker, Bucky Barnes. however, you are unaware that they are actually the same person.
warnings || BDSM, Dom! Bucky Barnes, dom/sub dynamics, phone sex, dirty talk, identity porn, sex toys, and a lot more (if you didn’t get the gist, this is filthy). SMUT. ANGST. FLUFF. (the holy trinity). MINORS DNI.
I have decided to not do taglists anymore, so if you wished to be notified of my newest updates please follow @bonky-n-steeb-lib and turn on the notifications!
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𝙁𝘽𝙍𝙊 ; 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀 [𝟭/𝟭𝟭]
summary┃when your roommate, bucky, begs you to be his fake girlfriend to his best friends wedding, you eventually say yes with some rules. but rules are set only to be broken.
pairing┃roommate!bucky x f!reader
word count┃3,254 words
warnings┃fake dating, fwb’s dynamic, talk of hook-ups, bi!bucky, unrequited feelings, beer is drunk, pet-name [sweets], praise kink, heavy make-out session, protected sex, slight degradation & mocking, reference to masturbation, oral, denied orgasm, edging, light dom!bucky, authority kink, lots of dirty talk, size kink [bucky is too big, but it works + he feels himself in reader’s lower tummy], squirting, lots of teasing, light breeding kink, cliffhanger [but only because part of series], confused feelings — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI
notes┃yeehaw here we go again besties <<3
“Oh c’mon, you owe me this, Sweets!” Bucky was pleading, absolutely begging you as you continued to shovel cereal in your mouth. You had woken up just under an hour ago and Bucky was already picking your brains with this outrageous request.
“Owe you? Barnes, if anything you owe me for all the times I’ve pretended to be your girlfriend so that your terrible decision would leave our apartment in the morning.” You remind him, pointing your milky spoon at him as he rolls his eyes playfully.
“See, you’ve done it before so it won’t even be a problem!” He cheers and you can’t help but chuckle at the way he was very desperately trying to get you to agree to this plan.
“Why can’t you just ask one of the many girls in that little black book of yours?” There was a twinge of jealously in your voice, but you masked it well enough for Bucky to think you were just teasing him.
“I don’t have a little black book,” he grumbles, slumping over on the chair beside you as you move your bowl away from you to lean on your elbows.
“I’m askin’ you ‘cause I know we’ll have a good time no matter what,” he says, eyes meeting yours as you sigh.
“I don’t know, Buck, isn’t it...” you’re searching for the right word, “weird?”
He laughs, shaking his head, “we just have to pretend we’re datin’,” he clarifies and it feels like a kick to your gut because yeah, it would all just be pretend.
You shake your head, pushing away from the counter to drop your used bowl into the sink, “I don’t know, you’ll have to give me some time to think about it, okay?”
He sighs, nodding and standing up before he’s leaning down to give you a kiss on the cheek, “I understand, Sweets. Jus’ let me know, yeah?”
Bucky slips out of the apartment shortly after for work and you’re left mulling over the decision that he’s presented to you.
His best friend was getting married next and he and Bucky seemed to have made a long-running bet; Sam had bet that Bucky would still be single by the time he got married and well, Sam wasn’t wrong.
But this was a whole new territory, there’d have to be ground rules, a backstory that was air-tight, signals in-case something went wrong, and oh your anxiety was the one talking now.
You groaned when you fell back into bed, running your hands down your face as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you realized that you were about to be late for work now too.
“I think you should totally do it!” Sage cheered in her true hopeless romantic fashion. You just laughed and playfully rolled your eyes as you finished wiping down the last table of the night.
“He’s my roommate, that’s...weird? Plus, it’s next week and I don’t have anyone to cover for me.” You shrugged as Sage shook her head, “now you do.”
Your heart flipped at her words. Sage was the personification of a bright summer day—warm, sweet, and always left you with a smile on your face.
“You really don’t have to, I’m sure there’s like a billion other girls he can ask.” You said as she hopped off the bar to grab you by your shoulders.
“And yet he asked you.” She said with raised eyebrows as you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt butterflies erupting wildly in your chest.
“I’ve seen Bucky. He’s hot to put it bluntly.” You both laughed, “and I see how you get around him, all giggly and happy.”
Her words hit you harder than you expected. You’d always known that Bucky was hot, literally anyone could admit that. But living with him let you into another part of him.
You saw him on his good days, when he got sick with a cold and acted like he was on his deathbed, drunk and then hungover, and the occasional sobbing mess as you both sang show tunes until you felt better.
“This won’t exactly help my crush, you know that? If anything it’ll make me fall deeper.” You say and Sage groans.
“He likes you!” She blurts, having to spell it out for your as you furrow your eyebrows and just shake your head, “there’s no way.”
The downside of living with Bucky meant that you also had to see the string of unbelievably and wildly attractive men and women he would bring home.
You were jealous, slightly, but also envious.
How he managed to have one night stands and then forget their names the next day was something so exceptionally Bucky that it always racked your brain.
“Listen,” she’s got you by the shoulders again, “just think about it, yeah? I’m not a matchmaker, but I’ve seen how you both look at each other and it’d be a shame if you didn’t end up at least fucking.”
You choked on your own breath at her words while she laughed.
The short walk back to your apartment was filled with nerves and questions of what if.
When you stuck your key into your rusted lock, turning it and shoving the door open, you found it empty.
Until you walked further in and heard the sound of the shower running. At least you didn’t have to talk to Bucky the second you stepped through the door.
You were jealous that he got the shower before you, though, so you opted to get changed into the baggiest pair of sweatpants and sweater you owned.
Both of which, ironically, belonged to Bucky.
They didn’t smell like him anymore, at least you didn’t think so. Maybe you were so nose-blind that you were just used to what Bucky smelled like.
You shook your thoughts of Bucky soon after, stepping into the kitchen to grab a beer out of the fridge.
“Moochin’ off of my beers now, huh?” You weren’t prepared to be met with a nearly naked Buck as you turned around and popped the tab.
You took a sip, eyes locked on his as you willed them not to wander down his naked torso. The naked torso that was still slightly wet from his shower, his metal prosthetic fusing to his broad shoulder as he swung to recalibrate it.
“It’s not mooching, it’s sharing,” you quip and he chuckles, disappearing into his room only to emerge in nothing but a pair of sweatpants that sit low on his hips.
It’s criminal, it really is, how much of an effect he has on you.
“So,” Bucky clears his throat, “did you, uhm, think ‘bout the uh, weddin’?”
You take a deep breath, letting your head fall before you’re looking back at him and even you don’t believe the words that fall from your lips.
“Let’s do it.”
Bucky’s eyes go wide, shining brightly as he claps his hands together and jumps to wrap you in a bone crushing hug where your cheek is smushed against his right pec.
He smells clean, like bergamot, very similar to the Earl Grey tea’s you drink in the mornings mixed with something a little more oaky. You could never distinguish exactly what it was, but it always left you feeling warm.
“Are you serious?” He asks, still in disbelief as he finally loosens his arms until his hands are resting on your hips.
It never did help that Bucky was very...affectionate. Kisses to your cheeks, forehead, nose, sometimes the side of your mouth when you were both stumbling into bed.
The feeling of him against your or around you was both comforting and terrifying.
“I’m serious, but don’t make me change my mind,” you poked his chest gently as you slipped under his arm and around the counter to grab your beer and sit yourself on the couch.
Bucky mimicked your actions; grabbing a beer, popping the tab, and joining you beside the couch as it dipped beneath it’s weight.
“We need ground rules though.” You said, pulling out your phone and heading to the notes section of your applications.
Bucky nodded his head, “good idea, Sweets.”
The pet-name caused another flurry of goosebumps and butterflies that you willed down with another sip of beer—drowning the unwanted emotions.
Half an hour later and you had three short, but very important ground rules.
1. Make it believable.
2. PDA is necessary, but don’t go overboard
3. It’s not real, so don’t you dare fall in love with me.
“Seems pretty fair,” Bucky smirks, finishing the last drop of his beer, “you think you’ll be able to resist falling in love with me though, Sweets?”
You snort, slightly out of nerves and slightly from the beer that’s gotten you loosened up.
“Do you think you’ll be able to stop yourself from falling in love with me?” You tease, joking around as Bucky’s tongue runs across his bottom lip as he lets out a hum.
“I’ll do my best, but,” he smirks, “no promises, Sweets.”
You groan, rolling your eyes, “you’re such a jerk.”
He shrugs his shoulders, chuckling before silence sets over the two of you again. It’s not uncomfortable, but you’re fiddling with the end of the sweater you’re wearing.
“So about rule number two,” you finally manage to break the silence, Bucky already looking at you.
“I just don’t want anything to be awkward,” you clear your throat. You aren’t really sure how to approach the topic.
“Why would it be awkward?” Bucky asks and you know he’s just egging you on. You sigh dramatically, dropping your hands into your lap.
“You know why,” you mumble, “our first kiss in front of everyone is gonna be our first kiss.”
Bucky slides closer to you, putting a warm hand on your bent knee as he cocks his head to the side, “it doesn’t have to be our first kiss.”
You’re shocked, breath hitching in your throat as you’re looking into Bucky’s eyes now. They’re warm, cool, and confident.
“We have a week of practice time, Sweets.” He purrs and you feel your heart kick against your ribs.
“You jus’ gotta lemme know what you wanna practice.” There’s a devilish smirk on his face before you’re swallowing thickly, “practice is good.”
Your voice is hoarse as Bucky chuckles, “practice is good. So wha’daya say? Should we practice?”
You don’t believe this is happening, that Bucky’s hands are now cradling your face as he’s pulling you into his lap and against his naked chest until...
His lips are slotting over yours, warm and soft and faintly tasting of beer as you relax into his touch.
First kisses are never supposed to be this good. They’re supposed to be awkward and messy; teeth and tongue clanging and clashing together.
They aren’t supposed to feel this natural, like you’ve kissed Bucky a million times before, but it does.
You can feel your body moulding against his, his hands now tightly gripping your hips and suddenly a moan slips from his mouth.
It causes a chain reaction, a domino effect where you’re tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging as he rocks your hips against his. You can feel him growing under you, the sweatpants doing little to conceal him and...
“This is so wrong,” you mumble against him, “then why does it feel so good?” Bucky retorts back breathily before you’re kissing him against with haste and need.
“This is good practice,” he mumbles, hands sliding up and down your body until they’re toying with the hem of your sweater, “and we do need all the practice we can get.” You reply and you can feel him smirk.
“Atta girl, Sweets,” he purrs, sliding his hands under your sweater finally and you’re shocked at how cold his left hand is.
“Practice does make perfect, remember?” He teases, leaning you backwards until he’s standing up with you wrapped around his body like a koala.
At this point, you don’t care about the friendship and if it’s ruined; you care about the way your panties are slick with your arousal and how Bucky seemed to tap into your praise kink incredibly quickly.
You fell onto his bed, door shutting as you were quickly engulfed in his scent. Bucky looked down on you like you were his prey, licking his lips before his eyes met yours.
“‘S’not easy watchin’ you walk ‘round in my clothes, y’know that?” He hums, taking a few steps closer as you can see the evident outline of his cock in the grey sweatpants.
You had to squeeze your legs together, but it only spurs Bucky on as he chuckles.
““S’bad enough I gotta use my hand on my cock when ‘m jerkin’ off, but hearin’ your moans as you’re usin’ that vibrator of yours.”
You moan, you actually moan at his words as he drops to his knees at the end of the bed, grabbing an ankle and tugging you down to his level.
“Knowin’ damn well I could make you cum harder and faster than it,” you let your head fall back as he rips your sweats and panties off of you, hiking your sweater up until you’re helping him rip if off your body.
He takes a moment, his cock twitching as he takes in your body, “a fuckin’ masterpiece, Sweets.”
You shudder, watching as he hikes your legs over his shoulders until his cool breath is fanning over your core. He’s barely touched you and you’re dripping, fucking soaked.
“What a pretty pussy,” he purrs, using metal fingers to spread your folds and tease you as you arch your back at the light touches. You’d always been more sensitive, a big reason as to why no one but your vibrator has ever been able to make you cum.
Something tells you that Bucky might.
“M’gonna take my sweet time devouring you, have you screamin’ all for me in my bed tonight,” he growls, nose brushing the hair that’s decorating your mound.
He says nothing further, tongue flat against you as you moan as let him eat you out like no one ever has.
His tongue lap around you, prodding at your entrance before focusing on your clit as he lets his fingers do most of the work. He starts with one, slowly teasing you until you’re begging.
“C’mon, Buck,” you whine, “add another.”
He chuckles against you, vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through you before he’s adding a second and curling them deep inside of you.
“That what my greedy girl wanted? To be stuffed full?” He taunts, a high-pitched whine running through you before you feel yourself teetering on the edge of your orgasm.
“Don’ worry, Sweets. I’ll make sure to stuff you full tonight,” he growls, but stops his fingers altogether.
You whine, thrash a little like a brat before he’s pinning your legs down.
“Don’t try to pull that with me, Sweets. You know ‘m stronger and not against punishin’ you.” You know it’s a warning, but you wish it was a promise instead.
“You’re cummin’ on my dick, waited too damn long and now I got you all to myself.” He stands up and drops his pants and you’re in awe. You always figure he was big, but he was big.
“Are you sure you’re gonna fit?” You squeak out, watching as he wraps his hand around himself to stroke him.
He reaches into his nightstand, grabbing a condom and some lube, “oh, we’ll make it fit, Sweets.”
“Now be a good girl and get on your hands and knees, yeah?” You’d never seen this side of Bucky, a dominant, rougher side as you moved into the position with no hesitations.
The condom wrapper falls to the floor, the pop of the lube makes you squirm in anticipation before the mattress is dipping under Bucky’s weight as you feel him behind you.
“Are you ready, Sweets?” He whispers in your ear, gently as he gently massages your shoulder.
You nod your head, “fuck me already, Barnes.” You egg, smirking before you’re letting out a soft gasp when you feel the head of his cock sliding thorugh your folds.
“Forgot you had a smart mouth,” he grunts, squeezing lube onto his cock, “we’ll see how well you can use it when you’re so full of me you can barely think.”
Bucky takes his time stretching you, but when he’s finally fully seated, you can safely say that you’ve never felt as full as you do with him.
“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” Bucky groans, “takin’ me so goddamn well too, Sweets. Look at’cha, so full with me.”
He snakes a hand around your belly, pressing on your lower abdomen, “absolutely full of me.”
You wiggle your ass, whining, “need it, Bucky.”
He chuckles deeply, “my cock feel that good already?”
His hips snap harshly before you can reply, his skin slapping against yours as he picks up his speed.
You can feel a hand wiggle between your shoulder blades, applying pressure until your face hits the soft sheets, “wan’ you to be smellin’ only me, Sweets. Gonna have you thinkin’ of all of me when I make you cum.”
His words send a shiver down your spine and your toes begin to curl at the way this angle makes it so he’s able to brush the spot deep inside of you that you can never seem to find yourself.
“That’s it, Sweets, be a good girl and cum for me,” he bends his body over yours, “‘n don’t be afraid to make a mess.”
It hits you harder than you thought, sucking the air from your lungs as you feel your legs shaking and a familiar wetness running down your thighs when you realize what’s happening.
“Holy fuck,” you hear Bucky groan, “didn’t know you could squirt, baby.”
His hips stuttering as you continue to grip him, aftershocks of your orgasm washing over you, “gonna make me cum, Sweets. God, yeah, gonna get you nice ‘n full.”
Bucky’s voice is an octave lower as his moan rumbles through his chest as he squeezes the flesh of your hips as he spills into the condom buried deep inside of you.
You’re both exhausted and fucked out entirely as Bucky falls beside you in bed, condom discarded soon after until you’re both trying to catch your breaths and recover from the best sex you’ve ever had.
“I know they say practice makes perfect,” Bucky breathes, turning his head to you, “but that was pretty damn near perfect already.”
You laugh, closing your eyes as you wipe under your eyes, mascara smudged but you don’t care.
“At least it won’t be awkward at the wedding now,” you say, chuckling nervously as Bucky smirks.
“Oh, that reminds me. There’s only one bed in the hotel room,” he winks and you playfully roll your eyes because of course there’s only one bed.
You just took a deep breath and hoped you’d be able to make it through the wedding without thinking of the many other ways Bucky could ruin you.
“For a fake boyfriend you sure gave me some real orgasms,” you quickly changed the topic as he shrugged, “I’ve lived with you for two years, I know what you like.”
“Plus, think of it as my way of sayin’ thanks for being my fake girlfriend so I don’t have to lose this bet.”
You could get on board with a fake relationship with real orgasms.
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Delicate Edges - Masterlist
summary: Your family’s beloved flower shop was not the only thing you inherited when your parents passed. Trapped under a mountain of debt to the Hydra club, you bear the cost of your father’s desperate bargain. It’s only in moments when the charming Bucky Barnes walks into your shop that you can forget the cruelty of the biker clubs of this town. But a war is brewing. The border is crumbling. You're trapped in the middle. And Bucky will stop at nothing to keep you safe. (Biker!AU)
pairing: Bucky x reader
series word count: ~70k
series warnings: canon level violence, biker gangs, extortion, sexual harassment, smut (18+, will be marked by chapter with *), an exorbitant amount of fluff turns into a shitstorm of angst
a/n: chapters will be added under the cut as I update! There is no tag list for my work, but you can follow @wkemeup-fics and turn on notifications to be alerted to new chapters. I will be posting on Sunday mornings EST
Six (October 24th)
🖤 series playlist
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acquainted | b.b
pairing: bucky barnes x reader (based on tfatws)
summary: in which you and bucky don’t like each other very much, not until one afternoon when you two finally decided to get acquainted. (enemies to lovers)
word count: 3.5k
warnings: nsfw, 18+, oral (m receiving), loads of teasing, unprotected sex, bucky making you beg for it, cocky!bucky,
a/n: hello! i am back with another bucky fic because i love him so much, he owns my heart and i absolutely love writing for him! i hope you enjoy this lovelies!
requests are open!
thank you so much for reading love! please like and reblog!
Nine in the morning saw you padding down the hallways of the apartment, sighing as you glanced over to the coffee table, last night’s drinks were still stacked on the wooden table, meaning that he had probably stayed over.
You made your way to the kitchen, the smell of freshly made pancakes wafted through the air, making your mouth water, your stomach grumbling in anticipation as you walked in, not surprised to see Sam at the stove, pouring the batter into the pan.
“Morning sunshine” he greets with an award-winning smile as he turns to you, a grin on his face as he stacks the pancakes one on top of the other.
“Morning Chef” you joke, not being able to stop yourself from laughing with the man standing before you who had donned an Elsa apron which you vaguely remember the neighbour had given him.
“Shut up” Sam grumbled as you doubled over in laughter, clapping your hands as the peals seemed they would not stop anytime soon.
“You can just let it go” you said in a sing song voice, giggling when your best friend shot you a death glare as you mimicked the famous princess, much to his annoyance.
“That’s it, you’re not getting any pancakes”.
“Come on Sam, it was a joke” you protested as he feigned anger, his arms akimbo, the Elsa apron looking a little too small on his frame, you stifled your giggles as you pouted, giving him your infamous puppy dog eyes.
Eyes that you knew Sam could never say no to.
“Please, I’ll do anything” that was partially true because Sam’s pancakes were to die for, literally, especially the chocolate flavoured ones.
“Anything?” Sam questioned, and you nodded confidently, knowing that the worse that could happen was you having dishwashing duties for a week.
“Bucky’s staying over for a few days-“
“No! Come on!”
“Just get along with him, Freaky Magoo’s not that bad”. Sam adds, raising an eyebrow as he picks up the plate of pancakes, tempting you with the treat.
“I’ll just have to take the pancakes away, hey AJ you want pancakes?” he asked, shooting you a grin and you sighed, snatching your plate over.
“Fine, I will try to get along with that ass” you mumbled, rolling your eyes, hating the fact that you had to see him again.
“Ouch doll, didn’t know that was how you thought of me” you groaned at the sound of the oh so familiar voice, grumbling as you turned back, your eyes meeting his cerulean blue ones
Bucky shot you a boyish smirk as he picked up a mug, his metal hard flexing around the handle as he fills it up with steaming hot coffee, his gaze fixated on you as he brought it up to his lips.
“That’s what everyone thinks of you” you retorted, picking up your plate of pancakes, believing that maybe, the treat was worth spending the next few days with the brunette, but the way he stood there, dressed in nothing but that black shirt that seemed just a size too small, easily stretching over his biceps and his sweatpants that hung a little too low on his hips had you thinking of something else entirely, not that you’d admit it.
“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Bucky replied, not missing the glare you threw his way, chuckling when you did.
God, did he love to push your buttons, there was something about the way you flared up that did things to him, pushed him forward, drew him to you like a moth to a flame, god how he wished to just press you face down against the granite countertop and fuck the sass out of you.
His eyes were glued to your figure, the way your nipples pressed against the flimsy tank top made him wonder what it would feel like to bury his face in between your mounds, or how it would feel to have your squirm under him as he eats your sweet cunt, bury his face in that pretty cunt of yours, feel your juices flowing down his chin, hell, all he wanted was to see your pink lips wrapped around his cock, your head bobbing as you choked on it.
The way your shorts showed of the curve of your perfect ass was enough to make Bucky rock hard, he could feel his growing erection press against the front of his pants as his mind filled with thoughts that were far from innocent, and he couldn’t help but allow himself to delve further into it.
“None of your business Barnes” you shot back, crossing your legs as you cut into your pancakes, picking up the maple syrup and pouring it over your breakfast.
The brunette watched as you sipped on your iced water, his eyes following a bead of condensation that fell from the mug on to your chest, rolling down the valley between your breasts, fuck, all he could think was how god damn beautiful your tits were.
You smirked, licking your lips, rolling your shoulders back to accentuate your chest, your white tank top tightening around your mounds, the fabric rubbing against your already taut nipples, making them harder than they already were.
And in that moment, you will never forget the look Bucky had on his face, he has never looked at you like the he was now and you relished in it.
To make matters worse, you suck your index finger into your mouth, finishing up the maple syrup that stained it, letting it with a pop.
“You were saying Bucky?” You ask albeit too innocently, smiling when you finally made the brunette go speechless.
“Nothing doll,” he replied smoothly, watching, his eyes fixed on you as you placed your plate in the sink, walking out of the kitchen with a swagger in your step that kept his gaze occupied on your ass, your hips swaying and all he wished for was to feel his fingers dig into your hips, oh, how that would feel as he was balls deep buried in your heat.
“Staring much?” Sam teased as the brunette groaned, his cock rock hard and painful as he tried to push the obscene thoughts of pounding into you mercilessly out of his head.
The way you had licked your lips made him wonder how good they would look around his cock, it wasn’t his first time imagining that and with you wearing those god damn shorts, it sure as hell wouldn’t be his last.
“Shut up” Bucky grumbled, ignoring his friend’s chuckles, the cup of coffee now forgotten as he made a beeline for his room, pulling off his clothes as he hopped into the shower, the cold water soothing his burning skin, cooling him down.
It was two in the afternoon when you decided that watching a movie would be a great idea to spend the day, after all there wasn’t much that you can do since none of your friends were available to make any plans and even if they were, you were much too comfortable in your Led Zeppelin shirt and shorts to be heading out any time soon.
You turned on Netflix, pressing play on another episode of Friends, your hand digging into your bag of chips as you leaned back onto the cushions.
“Mmhmm” you replied, chuckling when Ross came bursting into apartment. You made the mistake of turning your head to face Bucky, you jaw dropping as your eyes took in the sight before you, your heart thundering in your chest as you struggled to look away.
He was clad in nothing but a pair of black Calvin Klein boxers that literally left nothing to the imagination.
His biceps looked a lot better than you thought they looked, you knew that he pakced muscle but hell, to see them was entirely different, you never even knew that he had abs, you bite your lip as you found yourself staring, well more like ogling at him, he sure had a nice ass, that much you could see.
“You should just take a photo doll, it’ll last you a lot longer” Bucky said, shooting you a grin as he plopped down on the seat beside you, propping his legs up on the coffee table much to your annoyance, he knew you hated it when he did that.
“Of you? No way”. You retorted as you slapped his hand away from your chips, ignoring the fake pout he gave you.
“Get your own” you grumble, as you continued to watch the show, trying to ignore the glances that Bucky shot you, your skin heating up as your heart raced, the feeling of his gaze upon you had you shifting just a little closer.
You looked over to the brunette who had his eyes fixed to the television, your eyes skimming his frame, cursing internally when you did that because you didn’t miss the way the front of his boxers was stretched at the front, and you sure as heck did not miss the way his cock bulged through the fabric, god, he was big, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it’d feel like for him to stretch you out so perfectly
You could feel heat pooling between your legs, your breath hitching in your throat when Bucky casually placed his hand on your bare thigh.
“You alright princess?” He asked with a smirk, almost as if he knew what he was doing to you, and as much as you hated to admit it, your found yourself caving in to his advances.
“Y-yeah” you mumbled as you forced yourself to tear your eyes from him, keeping your focus on the television, shivers running up and down your spine as he slowly but surely slid his hand up higher, his fingertips ever so gently brushing against your skin, you knew just what he was doing and yet he was making you crave the feeling of his touch, to feel him touch you in all the right spots, a part of you wanted so badly to taste Bucky, to feel his lips moving against yours, to see if it was just as you had imagined it to be, if they were as soft as they looked, you wanted to run your fingers through his hair, pull him close as your lips mesh with his, you wanted it all, to feel his carelessly fuck you into oblivion, then filling you up to the brim with his warm cum.
The living room felt as hot as a sauna despite the air conditioner being set on the lowest temperature, the air was thick with tension as you bite your lip, feeling your heart hammering in your chest, your mind spinning with anticipation as Bucky’s metal digits slid up your thigh.
The sounds of the voices on television sounded like white noise as he brushed his fingers at the front of your shorts, you bite down on your bottom lip, stifling a whimper when he pressed the pads of his fingers against your covered cunt, gently rubbing on your bundle of nerves.
“Tell me you don’t want this darling, and I’ll stop” the brunette said softly, your eyes meeting his blue ones, your lips inches away from his soft ones, he leaned forward, everything about him reeling you in, the scent of his cologne and aftershave was addicting, and the thoughts that were swimming in your head urged you to and just like that you give in to him.
“Please” you whimper and in a span of a second, Bucky crashed his lips onto yours savagely, all tongue and teeth as he gripped the back of your neck, pulling you close to him as he deepened the kiss hungrily, his hand sliding underneath your shirt, groaning when he realised you weren’t wearing a bra as the cool of his metal fingers brushes against your tits.
Your body arched into his as he hooked his hands underneath your thighs, hoisting you up with ease as he roughly placed you down above him, your fingers carding through his hair as your tongues intertwined, fighting for dominance, one which he won easily, grinning into the kiss as he cupped your mound, fingers playing with your peak, earning a moan out of you.
The living room was filled with your soft whimpers and Bucky’s ragged breaths. He claimed you with his touch, his fingers digging into your hips as he bruised you with his kiss.
The brunette’s kisses were hurried and forceful as you took his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging it playfully as you rock your hips against his, teasing him, not stopping until. you earn a low groan from the back of his throat, you smirk as he squeezes your waist, his cock twitching in his boxers.
“You sure teasing me is the best way darling?” Bucky asks as you roll your hips against his, god the number of times he had imagined seeing you on flush on top of him was nothing compared to when you were, it sure was a sight to behold.
“I don’t know Bucky, but it sure as hell is fun” you purr as you pepper kisses down his jaw, your hand sliding down to palm him through the elastic fabric as you nuzzle in his neck.
The brunette chuckled, gently hooking a finger under your chin, tilting your face up as your eyes met his lust filled ones. “You gonna that pretty mouth of yours to work?” he growled as he gave your ass a firm squeeze.
“You know I will” you said, a sultry smile on your face as you got off him, getting down on your knees before him as he flattened his palms against the couch and lifting his hips as you pull down his boxers, his cock springing out, standing tall and rock hard, pre cum leaking from it’s swollen tip.
You lick your lips as you wrap your hand around his base, giving him a few pumps, using his pre cum as lubrication as you pumped him in your hand.
“Lost for words princess?” Bucky asked, a cocky smirk on his face.
“Hardly, I’ve had bigger” you said, your eyes meeting his cerulean blue ones that were blown wide with lust, watching as your tongue dampened his cock with your saliva, making it easier for you to pump him in your grip.
“Ffuck,” Bucky growled, the sight before him made him want to do nothing more than to pull you up, rip those shorts off and plough into you, wanting nothing more than to feel your warm, wet pussy engulf his cock.
You gently lick a thick stripe from his base to his tip, tasting his pre cum and peppering kitten licks on his thick length before you slowly took him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around his cock.
Bucky watched with bated breath as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock, groaning when you swirled your tongue around his tip.
“Aren’t you just a little slut, begging for my cock” he groans as his fingers knotted in your hair, tugging with enough strength to make you moan as he guided your head up and down his member, laying his head back against the cushion, trying to control his breathing as he stifled his moans, watching with his eyes half lidded as you took him into the depths of your mouth.
Bucky looked so beautiful with his bottom lip held hostage by his teeth and his hips bucking up to meet your warm mouth. His bare ass stuck to the leather of the sofa as your fingertips claw at his thighs as his tip hit the back of your throat, your moan sending sweet vibrations up his shaft.
Bucky was so close that you could taste the bittersweetness of his cum each time your tongue swirled around the tip of his cock.
Pulling out the big guns, you cupped his balls in your hands, massaging them gently, watching as Bucky’s mouth hung open, his grip on your hair tightening as he pushed your head further down his shaft, groaning your name as you basked in every sweet, angelic sound that fell from those lips as he rewarded you with ribbons of cum that you happily swallowed before letting him go.
Bucky didn’t waste any time, pulling you up as his lips devoured yours, his hands circling your waist as he pulled you down into his lap as his lips moved against yours in a feverish kiss, groaning when he tasted himself on your tongue.
In one fluid motion, your shirt hits the floor, your chest heaves and your heart thunders in your chest hard and fast.
Bucky growled as he presses open mouthed kisses to your neck, making you whimper as he stains your skin with purple bruises, his hand cupping your breast as he cages your nipple in between his thumb and index finger, rolling it.
“I-I need you” you whimper as he smirks against your skin, that was all it took for the brunette to flip you on to the couch.
“Hands and knees angel” he growls, making you moan as he smacks your ass, watching as you did as you were told, whimpering when his fingers trail your inner thighs before hooking into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down, groaning when he saw how sopping wet your pussy was, you were dripping with anticipation as he presses a metal digit against your slick, your hips rolling back against him, the feeling of the cool metal stinging your cunt making you whimper.
“Tell me who’s making you this wet? You just wanna be fucked like the dirty slut you are don’t you?” Bucky growls as he slides his finger to your clit, a low moan escaping your lips as he rubs teasing circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves, clearly enjoying the way your body was reacting to his touch, your pussy throbbing in excitement as your body craved for more.
“You, Bucky, please” you whimper, and you hear him chuckle as he replaces his digits with his thick length, pressing his cockhead past your folds as you backed your hips into his, desperate for the brunette to thrust into you. But he only chuckled lowly, continuing to tease your dripping cunt with his dick,
“So, so eager princess, use your words kitten” the brunette said as he slowly pushed his cock past your folds.
“Please Bucky,” you cried out, “please fuck me” you plead, you could practically see the grin on his face as he knotted his fingers in your hair, pulling until your back was against his chest.
“You have no fuckin idea how long I’ve been waiting” he growls, nipping at your ear and without warning, slams into you making you cry out as he stretched you out deliciously, your walls clamping down on his cock almost instantly, making Bucky groan as he pulls out.
“Want to feel you cream around my cock, so fucking tight,” he adds, making you grip the cushions, your fingers digging into the leather as he thrusts back into your heat.
Bucky gripped your hips tightly as you rolled them against his cock, whimpering as pounds into you mercilessly, not caring if his fingertips left bruises on your hips as you cry out in pleasure, back arching as he slams back into you.
“My pretty little slut, so fucking pretty” Bucky growls, his hips snapping as you bite down on your bottom lip, your attempts to stifle your moans failing ever so miserably as you cry, tears brimming around the corner of your eyes as your walls tightened around him.
Bucky tugged at your hair, forcing your head back giving him access as he bites the flesh of your neck, the immense pleasure making you screw your eyes shut as he pushes you to the edge of your orgasm, his thrusts becoming erratic as he encourages you to dive head first into euphoria.
“I’m gunna cum” you moan, your body convulsing as he pulled you close.
“That’s it kitten, cum for me,” Bucky soothes as you cave in, entering a state of nirvana as your walls pulsates around his cock, white spots filling your vision as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, your throbbing walls sending the brunette to his own release, groaning as he spills his seed inside of you, your body still trembling as you came down from high.
Bucky pulls out slowly, setting you down onto the couch, his cum trailing down your inner thigh and onto the leather as he collapses beside you, his arm around you as he rubs soothing circles down your back.
You were about to lay down on his chest when you both heard the familiar jingle of keys, the two of you gathering your clothes before up and running into your bedroom as the apartment door opened, you hurriedly threw Bucky one of his many shirts while you pulled on your own.
“Shit” Bucky curses.
“We didn’t clean the sofa, and I forgot-“
“I swear I’m gonna kill you both, the damn sofa is new!” You wince at Sam’s voice followed by Sarah’s laughter, knowing that they had probably found out about the bonding session you and Bucky had whilst he was gone.
“Wanna make a run to the boat?” you ask, panting lightly as you tossed him a pair of pants.
“Sounds good doll”
taglists are open! feel free to fill in the taglist form (link in bio under navi) / drop me an ask to be tagged in my fics!
a/n: that’s the end of this fic! i really hope you like it love, and if you did, please, let me know, thank you lovely!
leave some feedback?
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The Two of Us - Masterlist
Summary: You and Bucky go to investigate the phenomenon happening in Westview, New Jersey. While attempting to understand the issue, you yourselves are sucked into Wanda's world of pretend. Now, you believe yourselves to be the happily married Mr. and Mrs. Barnes; in real life, you are most definitely not a happy pair. It is up to you and Bucky to piece together what's happening while dealing with one another inside the hex.
Pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader
Warnings: descriptions of violence, mind control, angst, arguing, fluff, smut, and WandaVision spoilers.
This series is planned to be updated 1-2 times a week. If you'd like to join the taglist for The Two of Us, please click here.
Part 1 (50s)
Part 2 (60s)
Part 3 (70s)
Part 4 (80s/90s)
Part 5 (90s/2000s)
Last Updated: October 23, 2021
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Sweet Pea Masterlist
18 PLUS ONLY
Summary: Your father is the leader of a biker gang, you got out and moved away, years later you return searching someone out with only one person to turn to. (I suck at summaries sorry)
Warnings: Smut, fluff, angst, tobacco use, alcohol consumption, cursing
AU: Beefy Biker Bucky x Reader
Note: each part will have warnings just incase there are other ones that aren't listed above
Gif above isn't mine
Status: On going
PART 1. • PART 11
PART 2. • PART 12
PART 3. • PART 13
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H.C.M.C Masterlist || COMPLETED
Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Reader is new to Brooklyn and after an incident at the garage belonging to Howling Commandos Motorcycle Club, her life is changed forever.
Series Warnings: Violence, blood, knives, guns, smut, death
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i. liability , bucky barnes
— (fem!reader x tfatws!bucky)
summary; Bucky keeps running into you on the street, until you both end up at the place he hates most.
warnings; angst, fluff, grumpy yet curious bucky, ptsd mentions, sort of meet-cute, shy reader, undefined age gap, awkwardness.
word count; 2,395
a/n; this fic was actually requested! it’s going to be my first series. enjoy part 1 <3 - stellie
He’s seen you four times.
Once near the bakery, another by the library, and twice in the park.
Every time, he looks directly at you, or maybe it’s just your botched imagination. Something about him is vaguely familiar. You’ve never had a chance to investigate.
He usually wears all black. The part of your instincts that you wish you could get rid of tells you that means he’s trying to fit in. There has to be something wrong with him, maybe a secret agent or one of those crazed CIA mongrels. You look more suspicious than you’d like, and this is New York, it’s no surprise they already have someone out looking for you.
If they do, all you have to do is tell your lawyer.
You don’t think the city is the best place for someone who was formerly on the Most Wanted list, but you need to be monitored. It’s a condition of this and a condition of that, living in a one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn and reading every book in the library to pass the time.
When you die, you’ll finally be free.
For now you’re stuck, walking to the office complex that you dread every week. It’s something that you have to do, or else you’d be in prison.
You open the door to the plain, white waiting room, the little old lady at the secretary’s desk greeting you as always.
“Checking in for an appointment with Dr. Kiersten?” She chimes.
You nod and sit down in a chair nearest to the corner. You’ve always liked a close exit.
“She’ll be with you in just a bit, sweetie.”
The tips of your shoes tap the floor anxiously. You do this before appointments. The lady’s demeanor changes when the front door opens, letting the air conditioning out of the room. You think she’s going to ask you to stop tapping your feet, but she just looks over to the door with a hesitant expression.
“Mr. Barnes,” she clicks her pen. “Dr. Raynor, yes?”
“As always,” he murmurs as his heavy boots continue to slam the linoleum floor. He sits down two seats away from you, face slightly hidden.
You’ve seen him before.
He pulls a small notebook out of his jacket pocket in gloved hands, it’s only about the size of his palm. There must be something important in there, because he’s looking at it with creased eyebrows and a slightly scrunched nose.
“The hell are you starin’ at?” He snaps.
You fidget with the rip in your jeans and pretend you don’t hear him. It’s not like you’re obligated to talk to a complete stranger.
He flips the notebook closed and puts it back in his pocket. “Sorry,” he slumps his head against the wall.
“It’s okay,” you take his apology with a grain of salt, knowing that if he’s sitting in this office, he’s probably just as messed-up as you are.
“You look young to be in here,” he leans forward to get a better view of your face.
It would be easy to get up and walk to the other side of the room, to just sit in another empty chair. For some reason you just don’t feel like it.
“So?” You shrug.
“Are you a vet? Most people that come here for therapy are veterans.”
His eyes are a piercing shade of blue, and you just know you’ve been met by that unique color in your recent memories.
“Not necessarily,” you squinted at him. “I wouldn’t call myself a veteran.”
He smoothed his dark hair back. “Me neither.”
“Dr. Kiersten will see you now,” the lady at the front desk gestured to you.
You didn’t have things to gather, you weren’t a fan of possessions or purses. You just stood up to walk away before your mysterious, blue-eyed acquaintance interjected.
“I’m James,” he pointed to himself. “See you around?”
“I’m Y/N,” you crossed your arms. “No promises.”
Dr. Kiersten kept you late. Not because he wanted to be a menace, but because he wanted to pick through every falsified story that slipped through your lips.
“You wanna play tricks on me? That’s fine, we’ll put you in the correctional facility.”
He’s just telling you the truth.
As you close the door to his office, a grumbling mess of a man comes out of the door next to you.
“Everything alright?” You quirk an eyebrow at James.
He mutters a few curses under his breath. “I just don’t like... therapy.”
No one does.
You give him a childish pout and walk beside him into the street. “I take it that you’re not a big talker?”
“Depends,” James shifted his gaze to you. “I don’t go out much.”
“Really? ‘Cause I’ve seen you out.”
This was a mistake. He was either being paid to stalk you, or just stalking you because he’s a creep. You’ve been told too many times that there’s no such thing as a coincidence.
“Uhm,” he shook his head dismissively. “I don’t know, we’re in Brooklyn after all.”
Is that code for yeah, I’ve seen you a few times, but I promise that it’s not suspicious.
This is the worst idea you’ve ever had, parading around with a no-so-stranger, but you don’t like being lonely. You can remember being a teenager, locked up in a cold cell, talking to the walls about your day. You were only able to remember twenty-four hours at a time when you were being trained and used.
Now you can unfortunately remember most things.
“Do you take the subway?” James asked.
“I don’t like the subway,” you observed the way he frowned a bit at your comment. He really is a little peculiar.
The people on the sidewalk seemed to part like the Red Sea for James as he continued walking next to you, passing the entry to the subway station.
“How about I walk you home?” He looks up to the indigo sky. “It’s gettin’ a little dark out.”
You stepped away from his broad frame. “I don’t care. Do whatever you want.”
The standoffish tone of your voice didn’t scare him away, he kept hot on your heels instead. Perhaps it was a gentlemanly thing that his mother taught him, to walk a lady home when it’s late, but you didn’t need his protection.
“Can I ask you something?” You turned your head to James.
“Mhm,” he looked at you expectantly, cerulean eyes boring into you.
“What’s in your notebook?” You pointed to the pocket of his leather jacket. “Anything interesting?”
The outline of the small notebook showed as he glanced down at it. “Just things I don’t wanna forget, names of songs and stuff like that.”
“Oh, you like music?”
James smiled. The subtlest smile you’ve ever seen, but he still smiled.
“Mostly old stuff,” he playfully rolled his eyes. “I listen to forties music.”
Your eyes went wide. “How old are you?”
“Uh...” he thought about it for a second. “Thirty... seven.”
Maybe he just has a bad memory.
“Forties music is for super-old people,” you said nonchalantly. “Like those people that play bingo for fun at the library I go to.”
He let out a laugh. “I don’t play bingo.”
You could see your apartment complex close by. In a few moments, he would be gone. You just couldn’t decide whether you wanted him gone or not.
“Do you want some coffee?” You say in your friendly voice, that’s what Dr. Kiersten calls it.
“I wouldn’t wanna intrude,” James insists.
You size up your aged apartment building. “It’s fine, I could use some company for a bit.”
James leads the way up the stairs. You don’t like elevators either, but he doesn’t need to be told that. You’re apartment ninety-one, that’s what you tell him, and he stops so you can fumble with your keys at the door.
You’re still getting used to apartment life. To Brooklyn life. To civilian life. You can’t wrap your head around the fact that you need to have a schedule, pay bills, and spend the day on your own accord. For ten years, you were never the owner of your destiny, someone always had it in their hands. They controlled what you ate, when you slept, even what you believed.
Sometimes it still felt that way.
The second day in your apartment, you cried trying to get the door unlocked. It’s just life, a middle-aged woman said to you as she fixed the problem for you, but you didn’t understand. You don’t know what a normal life is like.
You got the door unlocked, James filing in after you. The apartment was pretty much empty, just a couch from the thrift store and a coffee table. You opted out of searching for a kitchen set, just because you never expected to have anyone over. It’s not like you had anyone in your life.
“I sleep on the floor too,” James spotted your pile of blankets and pillows next to the couch.
“Why do you sleep on the floor?” You searched through the cupboard for instant coffee packets. “You don’t seem like you would.”
His stubble is too nicely trimmed to be someone that sleeps on the goddamn floor. He dresses in a clean manner, despite the mostly dark colors, and he isn’t unapproachable.
Unless you think he may be up to something.
“When you come back from war and all, sleeping on a mattress doesn’t feel right,” he shrugs.
“You said you weren’t a vet?”
He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Don’t lie to me,” you back away from him. “We’ve all done bad things, I get it.”
“I was in a war,” he whispers. “But that’s not the only reason I’m in therapy.”
Why did you bring a stranger into your home?
James takes off the left side of his jacket, and there’s no flesh, just something metal-like.
“You may not know what I did,” he sheds the rest of the jacket. “But I was pardoned for it.”
“Did you...” your voice faded out. “Deserve to be pardoned for what you did?”
“I don’t know,” his prosthetic limb whirred lowly. “That’s subjective. I still blame myself.”
He’s too familiar. You know him from somewhere. It’s almost like he touched you in a different life. If only you could remember.
“You’re like me,” you stare at him for a minute. “They wanted to lock me up, but apparently nothing I did was my fault.”
James’ lips formed a tight line.
If he reached out to you, even for a moment, you were seventeen again, taken away from your home and wires attached to your head in a room you didn’t recognize.
“Who are you?” You held onto the countertop like a vice. “James, we’ve met before—“
It’s normal to be paranoid or scared, that’s what Dr. Kiersten says, but you’re a grown woman. James looks like the kind of guy you’d catch throwing back beers with his buddies at the bar on a Saturday night, but you swear you’ve heard his voice in your nightmares.
“We’ve seen each other around the city,” he pulled out the tiny notebook from his pocket again. “And I was the Winter Soldier, but I am no longer the Winter Soldier, I am James Bucky Barnes.”
The Winter Soldier? Maybe if you functioned outside of a remote facility for the past ten years of your life and didn’t get your memory wiped every time you completed orders, you’d actually know what the hell he was talking about.
You can remember the torture, you can remember the pain and heartache, but you’re not always great with specifics. Therapy has helped you remember more, whether that’s a good or bad thing is up to interpretation.
He seemed practiced in his words, opening to a page in the middle of the notebook and scanning his eyes down the page, searching for something.
“I would like to...” James let his focus go back to you, closing the notebook. “Get your number.”
“What do you need my number for?” You had encountered so many strange people with strange agendas, but this was new.
“Dr. Raynor told me I need to make friends,” he says defensively.
“Tell me what the Winter Soldier is first.”
You should’ve just taken prison. It would’ve been much easier than the civilian world. If you think about it, you’re used to prison.
“I used to be the him,” James mumbles. “Then I got my mind back. You can look the whole thing up, Hydra’s greatest asset, that’s what I was.”
“Hydra?” You felt your body tense up. “How long were you with them?”
“God, I don’t know... seventy years.”
“Dead man walking,” you snickered.
He lets out a puff of air from between his lips. “Somethin’ like that.”
It would’ve shocked any normal person, he didn’t look a day over thirty, but you’ve seen plenty of mysteriously-resurrected assassins in your former line of work. James wasn’t exactly an anomaly, what made him intriguing was that he could actually live a normal life.
Or at least that’s what it looked like.
“So you’re like... one-hundred,” you did a rough estimate in your head.
“And six,” James corrected. “I fought in World War Two.”
You looked at his arm again, plates whirring. You silently wondered how he lost his arm in the first place.
“Fell off a train,” he answered your question as if he was a mind reader. “It’s made of vibranium.”
“This isn’t how I thought my day was gonna go, if I’m being honest.”
“You don’t look like you were expecting company,” he singled out the lack of proper furniture.
“I lived in a cell for ten years, they don’t really let you decorate.”
James gave you an empathetic look.
“Why don’t we decorate it then?” He said. “Get it fixed up all nice for you.”
“Don’t you have better things to do?”
“Not really,” he slung his jacket over his shoulder. “I happen to be unemployed.”
“I feel like ‘retired’ should be the word for you, old man,” you giggled.
James leaned over the countertop. “Lay off and let me do something nice.”
“Fine,” you agreed.
He smiled again, and you can’t help but mentally beat yourself up for letting a former assassin into your apartment, and proceeding to befriend him.
They say it takes one to know one.
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For the Love of the Game - Part One
Pairing: College!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it.
Word count: 3.6k
Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/drinking, Mild language
a/n: Here is part one!! :)
Series Materlist // Main Masterlist
The cool wind of Autumn brushed past your face as you swung open the library doors. It had only been a month since the start of the semester, but the librarian greeted you with a warm smile and a familiar wave. Being on the pre-med track would do that to a person.
You made your way to the reserved study rooms, fixing the strap of your bag as it dug into your shoulder. It almost seemed silly to have reserved a room at this time—the library was desolate this late on a Friday—but Nat had been very adamant about you being out of the dorm for the evening, and you weren’t about to take any chances with your chem exam coming up.
You mouthed the numbers of the small rooms as you passed them, some filled with groups of students, others completely barren. When you reached room nine, you paused and double checked the reservation sheet, pushing open the door as you read.
When you glanced up, the flimsy plastic clipboard went crashing to the floor, disrupting the careful silence of the library. “What the hell?”
There, in all his glory and occupying your reserved study room, was James Buchanan Barnes. He was wrapped around some girl you had never seen before, pressing her up against the wall with his baseball uniform bunching up at the sides. He tore away from her at the sound of your voice, a sly smile forming at your incredulous expression.
“Oh hey, doll. You studyin’ in here tonight?” He was out of breath.
“Am I—James, you knew I was going to be in here. Steve’s in my dorm tonight and my name was literally on the door.” you whisper shouted, arm jutting out towards the abandoned clipboard. “You can’t pretend like you just so happened to stumble into the room I’ve had reserved since Monday.”
“Jeez, doll, take it easy. Stephanie—” he turned to the girl in the corner “—see you around, yeah?”
She gave him a surprised look, but straightened out her hair and made a quick exit, bumping your shoulder on the way out. You blinked and shook your head in disbelief before letting your bag slide onto the table in the center of the room. “Okay, what’s your deal, James?”
“What do ya mean, doll?” he asked, leaning his shoulder against the wall.
“You know exactly what I mean. And how many times have I asked you to stop calling me that?”
“About as many times as I’ve asked you to stop callin’ me James.”
“It’s your name.”
“Yeah, but my friends call me Bucky.”
You huffed out a dry laugh. “We’re not friends, James.”
“How do you figure that? I see you just about every day. Know how your classes are goin’ and what you eat for breakfast.”
“All of that is against my will. I’m almost positive that if Nat wasn’t my best friend, you and I would have been lab partners freshman year, and then parted ways as complete strangers.”
He narrowed his eyes at you and smirked. “Come on, doll, you don’t mean that. Bet you had the biggest crush on me back then. If Stevie weren’t datin’ Nat, you would have found a way to follow me around campus all on your own.”
“Follow you around campus? This coming from the guy who picked my study room to make out with his girlfriend when there are literally twenty others to choose from,” you scoffed.
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Oh sorry, didn’t mean to offend you.” Sarcasm dripped from your voice. Bucky shrugged and pulled a chair out from the table, sitting with his chest to the backrest. “What the hell are you doing?”
He furrowed his brows. “I’m studying for our chem test next week. Come on, get your book out.”
“Are you even in chem? I haven’t seen you at any of the lectures.”
“‘Course I am. The baseball team just got all the work early since we’ve been travelin’ for games.”
You took a beat to stare at him, a deep sigh escaping your lips. “What do you want, James? And I know it’s not flashcards, or else you wouldn’t have brought your girlfriend in and put on a show.”
“I told you, she’s not my girlfriend. But really, I didn’t know you’d be in here. She had the room before you. I just met her after the team got off the bus. Go on, check your little clipboard.” He slid the plastic across the table.
Sure enough, one “Stephanie Ayers” was scribbled into the reservation slot above yours. “Okay, so why are you staying then? I’m sure she’s missing you… wherever she went.”
“Haven’t you heard? I’ve got a really big quiz comin’ up. Can’t fail it.”
“It’s a midterm, James.” You rolled your eyes as he sent his head back and let out an enlightened gasp. “Okay look, I really need to study and I can’t go back to my room, so can you please leave.”
He stood and raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, alright. I can tell when I’ve overstayed my welcome.” He flipped the chair back into place, grabbing his bag from underneath. “We got a home game tomorrow, you know. Nat takin’ you with her?”
“Guess you’ll see tomorrow,” you quipped, back turned to him as you took your books out.
He let out a laugh and pushed the door open. “Yeah, guess I will. See you tomorrow, doll.”
You waved him off without a second glance, missing the extra few seconds that his eyes lingered on the back of your head before the door clicked shut.
When you heard that final sound, you felt like you could finally breathe again. You leaned back in your chair and rubbed your palms against your eyes to ground your thoughts, but it was clear you weren’t going to get much studying done that night. Stupid Bucky with his smooth words and pretty eyes and that unfair uniform.
And the worst part was that he was right, and he absolutely knew it. Freshman year was a year of many firsts for you, but among the worst was the heartbreak caused by Bucky Barnes—an event you were sure he didn’t even remember.
You met Bucky before Nat had even met Steve, the randomized lab pairing in your biology class pushing the two of you together. You had been a bright eyed, nervous wreck the first time you talked to him, and he absolutely loved it.
He was at NYU on a full-ride scholarship for pitching—he had the best arm in the nation—and quickly learned that the girls loved that. During orientation week alone, he had hooked up with three different girls and added about a dozen new numbers into his phone. He was making dates left and right and getting drunk at frat parties just about every weekend; it was every college kid's dream.
So when you looked up at him like he hung the moon, he was in his element. He talked you into doing all the lab work and brushed your hair behind your ear and gave you that smile that had all the girls falling at his feet. And it worked.
In a matter of weeks, you had become hopelessly enamored with Bucky Barnes. So much so that you took a chance and asked him to dinner one night in the library. He had glanced up from his phone, giving you a small smile and muttering something along the lines of sounds great, baby. Send me the details.
You had. He never showed up.
You were humiliated in class the next day, shuffling around the lab table and mumbling out apologies when you bumped into him. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. He figured you must have had a long night and brushed it off, but when you acted that way for the rest of the semester, he chalked it up to you getting a boyfriend. Boyfriends didn’t like Bucky Barnes.
When final grades were passed out—a thick packet with an ‘A’ stamped on the front landing on your lab station—you couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. Bucky had glanced over at you with a bright smile and twinkling eyes, only to find you half out the door already. He blew out a quick breath and tucked the packet in his bag before whipping out his phone to confirm his weekend plans; you were already just a fleeting thought in his mind.
You didn’t see him again, not until Natasha first brought the 6’2 first baseman into your tiny dorm room. Steve Rogers had bumped his head on the top of the door frame and invited you to Kelly’s, the sports bar the team frequented after home games. You had no idea that accepting his invitation would henceforth indoctrinate you into their friend group, nor did you realize that Bucky would be there, some girl sat on his lap as he gripped the neck of a beer bottle.
He hardly recognized you, sending you a quick nod when Steve introduced you to the group. Oh hey, biology girl! he had shouted across the table. Your face burned in embarrassment when Nat’s eyebrows shot up in recognition. She sent you a sidelong glance that had you gripping her hand in a plea to keep quiet. She let it go. For the moment.
The rest of the night went pretty much the same. Steve and Nat were in their own world in the corner of the room, Bucky kept his hands on the sorority girl perched in his lap, and you did your best to pretend you no longer had the fattest crush on the man sitting in front of you. It wasn’t too hard since he wasn’t paying you any attention, but the nachos that Nat ordered for you had grown soggy when your nausea increased with each passing minute.
So, what about you? the girl sitting beside you, Wanda you had learned, nudged your shoulder with hers. You got a boyfriend?
You had completely missed the conversation, the screen above Bucky’s head playing college football keeping you busy for the majority of the night. Uh, no. No boyfriend.
What! That’s crazy, you’re a total dime. Maybe one of these guys will sweep you off your feet. My brother’s single, you know.
You humored her with a laugh and talked with the team for the rest of the night, strategically skipping over Bucky’s form as you spoke. Not that it mattered; he was busy making out with the girl he brought with him. You never caught her name.
While you were uncomfortable, you had gained a strong group of friends that night. You, Wanda, and Natasha quickly banded together and were rarely seen apart these days, and the guys all treated you like family. Somehow, the NYU baseball team became an integral part of your life—which unfortunately included Bucky.
To his credit, he did manage to learn your name after the third time you hung out with the team. He might have pronounced it wrong, but the effort was still there—sort of.
He had been walking off the field after practice, the flood lights illuminating his cheeks and leaving a gentle shine on his hair. You were on the bleachers, having a very strong debate with Sam over whether or not sunflower seeds constituted a snack.
Sam! We headin’ out or what? he called from the dugout. He noticed you then, sending you a smirk and a quick greeting that involved some incorrect variation of your name.
That’s not her name, man. It’s Y/N, Sam called out, throwing his arm over your shoulder. You’re such an ass sometimes, you know that?
What? I can’t remember everyone's name, Wilson, he quipped, shoving his bat into his bag.
It’s fine, Sam. Your voice was low and your eyes were glued to your shoes.
There he went again, humiliating you and acting like it didn’t matter.
Things began to change over the course of a few semesters. Bucky slowly began recognizing you at every game and would ask where you were if you missed one. He would meet up with Steve in the dining hall, always expecting you and Nat to be sitting on the other side of the table. Your number made a regular appearance in the groupchat, prompting him to add it to his contacts after a few weeks.
And over the years, Bucky began to change too—not that you paid that any mind. The novelty of being the hottest bachelor on campus became old after his fourth hangover caused him to almost fail yet another class. He never actually failed them though; the sports committee always had his back.
The girls got old. Sometimes they would be too clingy, begging him to take them out for the night when all he wanted was a quick release. Other times they weren’t attached enough. They would use him for his status, asking to wear his jersey at games and hopping past the fence when the news cameras closed in.
He remembered a time when hadn’t cared about that so much; he would wrap the girls in his arms and smile for the newspapers, hardly remembering their names as they made quick exits off the field. But then he met you—and you kept coming around.
He would see you running up to his teammates after the games, smothering them in hugs and swatting off their hands as they ruffled your hair. You would smile at them and it took his breath away; the kind of breathlessness that was so unexpected, it was disorienting. You would cheer for them when they were up to bat and steal their fries at the sports bar and joke around with them over text.
But with Bucky—nothing. And it ate away at him.
At first he thought you were just shy; Bucky was a really popular guy, and that could be intimidating. But after months of you ignoring him and refusing to sit beside him at gatherings, he knew it had to be something else. He never asked you about it. You never told him.
It was going on three years at this point, and he had decided it was time to figure out why. Because as you ignored him and argued with him and smiled up at his friends, Bucky Barnes was falling in love with you.
He was saving you seats in lecture halls and looking out for you at games. He was smelling your perfume on another girl on the campus shuttles and whipping around to find you, only for his chest to fill with disappointment when you weren’t there. God, the guy was even saving you the last bottle of juice in the dining hall when you came to breakfast late, nonchalantly passing it off to Steve so that you wouldn’t get suspicious.
He had it bad, and you were none the wiser; the sting of his previous indifference had you keeping up a wall to protect yourself, but Bucky didn’t know that. Bucky didn’t even remember the offense that kept you at such a distance. But you certainly remembered.
You let out a strangled sigh, checking the time on your phone and packing your things back into your bag. You had made zero progress on your homework and your two hour reservation was almost up. Feeling defeated, you made your way to the exit intent on grabbing ice cream to kill some time, but were stopped in your tracks when your foot caught on something soft.
Of course it would be one of Bucky’s batting gloves. The universe loved mocking you, and it seemed like putting you in situations where you were forced to speak to him was its greatest running gag. You stuffed the offending material into the pocket of your hoodie, and trudged out of the room.
Midnight on NYU’s campus wasn’t something you often got to see alone. Ever since freshman year, it seemed like you always had someone to accompany you. Wanda had the same major as you so your schedules usually coincided, Nat was always looking to spend time with you when Steve was unavailable, and if any of the team spotted you walking alone, you had an instant companion.
And it was nice to have some silence, but jeez it was cold.
You ditched your plan for ice cream and prayed that Steve had found his way to his own dorm for the night. Natasha told you not to come home until ten, but past experiences told you she really meant midnight.
In the warmth of the hallway outside your room, you rapped your knuckles against the door and waited as several thuds sounded off on the other side.
“Just a sec!” Nat called out. You were glad you waited those extra two hours.
Steve came tumbling out the door a few minutes later, socks bunched up in his hands and an apologetic look on his face. “Sorry it’s so late, Y/N. You should’ve called someone to walk you home.”
“I think I can walk across campus on my own, Steve. And I have that pepper spray Nat bought me.” You jingled your keyring by your head.
“Still, I’m sure Buck wouldn’t have minded walking you back.”
“Yeah, I saw James tonight. He seemed a bit preoccupied. Oh, that reminds me,” you exclaimed, rifling through your pocket, “Here, he dropped this.” You pressed the batting glove to Steve’s chest.
He glanced down at it and sidestepped your arm, refusing to take it from your grasp. “I’m not gonna see him till the game tomorrow, Y/N. You might as well bring it to him when you come.”
“How does that even make sense? You’re going to see him way before I am and—hey! Steve, what the hell?” He was lightly jogging down the hallway before you could finish your rant.
“Bye! See ya tomorrow!”
Your eyes followed him in disbelief as he pushed through the double doors of the resident hall. “What’s wrong with your boyfriend, Nat?”
She pulled you in from the hall by your arm. “Don’t ask me. I never know what’s going on inside that guy’s head,” she scoffed, grabbing a sweater from your desk chair to cover her shoulders, “Should be fine though. You’re coming with me to the game tomorrow, right? Wanda already bailed.”
“Well yeah, but he definitely could have given this to James. They warm up together and we don’t get there until the game starts.” You dropped your things to the floor and laid flat on your bed.
“You said you saw Bucky tonight? Thought you were going to the library.”
You shot up, finger pointing in your roommate’s direction. “I did! You wanna know where he was? Making out with some girl in my study room. I swear that guy just lives to piss me off.”
“Maybe he’s got a crush on you.”
You scoffed. “Do I need to remind you that he was in there making out with someone? If he likes me, that’s the wrong way to get my attention.” You moved to the door connecting to the bathroom. “Besides, last time I tried romance with the guy, I was left outside that stupid restaurant for an hour. No call, no apology.”
“Y/N, that was like, three years ago. Bucky’s changed since then, you just haven’t noticed since you’ve been so dead set on acting like he doesn’t exist.”
“Don’t really see how he’s changed, Nat. Every time I run into him he’s got a girl attached to his hip. Why are you defending him anyway? He blackmailing you or something?”
She came up beside you in the bathroom, grabbing her toothbrush. “No, I’ve just… noticed some things lately. Maybe it’s time to bury the hatchet.”
“There is no ‘hatchet’, Nat, we just aren’t friends.”
“And that’s not weird to you? I mean you’ve known the guy for years and still avoid him like the plague.”
You groaned, setting your face wash back in the cabinet with a clang. “If you like him so much, why don't you hang out with him?”
“Whoa, chill with the hostility! I’m just saying, he might not be as bad as you think; not anymore.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” You made your way out of the bathroom and changed your clothes before flopping into bed.
Natasha’s notion was a nice one; Bucky would make a great friend if you didn’t find him so awful. He was loyal and protective of those that were close to him—and he was definitely easy on the eyes—but you just couldn’t shake the fact that he was a grade-A asshole. Maybe not to you anymore, but the sentiment was still there.
As your roommate meandered back into the room, going on about your plans to get to the game tomorrow, you let your gaze hold steady on the batting glove on your nightstand. Memories of blurry parties and dusty bleachers flashed through your mind, Bucky always there—always in the background.
Maybe giving him a shot wouldn’t be so bad. You had no doubt in your mind that the relationship would be strictly platonic, but if Natasha really thought he was worth it, you’d trust her judgment. She hadn’t led you astray yet, and she’d been the one to pick you up all those years ago, embarrassed and alone in downtown Manhattan. She knew what he was like—now and then—and she loved you like a sister; she would never want you hurting.
You went to bed that night with a strong agenda and high hopes. Maybe it was time to bury the hatchet, even if only one person knew that hatchet existed.
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to love is to burn
𝙖𝙡𝙥𝙝𝙖! 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙭 𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙜𝙖! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ￼
𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || You go into heat at the worst moment in the history of time, maybe ever.
𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || unprotected sex. alpha/omega dynamics. knotting. oral fixation. breeding kink. fingering. heat. captivity. usual hydra shenanigans. idiots in love. PWP. MINORS DNI 🔞 if any of this makes you uncomfortable then please do not read!
I have decided to not do taglists anymore, so if you wished to be notified of my newest updates please follow @bonky-n-steeb-lib and turn on the notifications!
This is the first time I’ve written a/b/o dynamics, so please be kind. I hope you like it :)
second part here: little red riding hood
This. Wasn’t. Supposed. To. Happen.
This was the first thought that came across your mind as you blinked your eyes open. You looked around to see you were laying down in some old decrepit cell.
The light across the room was just too bright and you squeezed your eyes shut. Your head was pounding and you pressed your fingers to your forehead. “Hey. Are you okay?” The voice was soothing and you unintentionally sighed.
You turned your head around to see Bucky bending over you with concern. “Yeah… kinda okay.” Whatever those idiots had injected into you was making you warm and achy everywhere.
You and Bucky had come on a surveillance mission of a supposedly abandoned hydra base. But someone had tipped off your plan and the base wasn’t as abandoned as expected.
The hydra team had taken you by surprise and injected some substance into your necks and you’d blacked out only to wake up in this dirty cell with Bucky besides you.
A dull pain was starting at the base of your hips, and you were familiar with that kind of pain in your heats, but this definitely wasn’t it as your heat wasn’t due for another two weeks. It must be due to that stupid chemical, you thought.
“Are you sure? You seem a little… off.” Bucky couldn’t place what it was, but his instincts were on high alert. He had woken up a little earlier than you and like a caged beast, he had mapped out all the places of this cell.
There wasn’t really an exit except the door, which was made of some metal and wasn’t easily bending. If it was only him, he honestly wouldn’t have cared much, but you too were involved and he couldn’t take risks.
But the primal instinct to protect you was really surging up in him. The entire time he was sitting ahead of you, facing the door. If someone came, they had to go through him to reach you.
“Yeah Bucky… I’m….” Before you could complete the sentence, an intense cramp built up in your core. Closing your eyes, you held Bucky’s arm tightly and twisted in pain.
Seeing you in distress, Bucky pulled you up and placed your head on his lap. He soothingly ran his hand on your forehead and noticed that sweat had started forming on your skin.
Unknowingly, he started purring deep in his chest to calm you down. The steady rumbling, did help you ease down from your panic. And you wiggled yourself further in his lap until you were resting your head on his shoulder.
Bucky’s nose twitched as a heady scent started permeating the space. It took him a moment to realise the intoxicating ambrosial scent was none other than yours.
His eyes widened as the realisation hit him, you were going into a heat.
Bucky had loved you for a very long time now and he wanted nothing more than to be your alpha. But if you went into heat while being captive, he wouldn’t be able to help you.
￼And even if he did, you would be too deep into heat to properly consent and would definitely hate him later on. He didn’t know what gods he had angered to deserve such a fate.
On the other hand, you couldn’t help but bury your nose in the crook of Bucky’s neck and scent him. He sat shock still as you rubbed your nose and started nibbling wet little sucks on his neck.
He shook himself out of it when he felt your tongue lick him. He knew he shouldn’t be harsh, but if he didn’t stop you, he couldn’t guarantee what he would do. He was already hard from your little suckles.
When you were pulled away from Bucky, you couldn’t help but whine, “Alpha…” your eyes were closed and you were lost in the pain to notice your words.
You calling him alpha in a breathy moan sent blood rushing straight to Bucky’s dick. It was his fantasy to which he fucked his fist at night and hearing you say it but unable to do anything made Bucky more than a little furious.
“Calm down and open your eyes.” Bucky used his alpha voice which had you responding to him in no time. He hated doing that, but he knew he had to.
Opening your eyes, you could at least comprehend a little of your surrounding. After realising you were literally laying in Bucky’s arms with his scent invading your senses, you jerked back as if burnt.
You didn’t hate Bucky, not in the slightest. Instead you loved him, more than you should. But he was clearly not interested in you and so you never confessed your feelings. You just took your happiness from being his friend.
You just scented him and called him an alpha, which was completely unacceptable. Your body had decided to go into heat at the worst place ever and you just hoped it won’t hurt your friendship with Bucky.
His nostrils were flared and his jaw was clenched and his eyes were shut. Alpha is angry. You shook your head, no, he’s not your alpha. “I… I’m sorry.” You whimpered out as you crawled back into a corner.
Bucky furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, he was barely controlling himself from pouncing on you. He was the one supposed to say sorry. “What are you sorry for?” He was just going to add omega but he gladly bit his tongue.
“I shouldn’t have gone into heat and… done that.” You said pointing at his neck. Bucky’s neck was still wet with your saliva. Bucky shook his head and crawled up closer to you, his instincts were screaming at him to hold you close.
“It’s not your fault. Don’t worry. I’ll try my best to get us out of here.” Overwhelmed with emotions, you couldn’t help but leap into Bucky’s outstretched arms.
Hugging him tight, you whispered into ear, “Bucky, I’ll be… uhhh…, desperate after some time. I won’t be able to stop myself.” You knew you had to clear this topic while you were still thinking.
“I know.” Bucky murmured into your hair. “Do you mind if I help you?” Bucky knew it would be hell for him to see you in pain. Your eyes snapped up at him and for a minute he thought he messed up.
“Will you do it. Please? It’s… it’s too painful.” You spat out as the cramps started once again. You squirmed and wiggled in his hands as you tried to reduce the pain and all the time Bucky purred and cooed at you.
“It would be my honour.” Bucky quickly replied, he knew it would only get worse with time. “Fuck the formalities Bucky. I’ve wanted you for sooo long. I’ve always thought about how hard you’d fuck me.” You had really lost your filter.
“Really?” For a whole minute, in his happiness, Bucky forgot that you both were imprisoned. “Yea… yeah. I thought.. you didn’t like me.” Bucky couldn’t believe he had given that impression.
“I love you, goddamnit.” Now it was your time to be surprised. “Oh Bucky, I love you too. I wish we had chosen a better time for this though.” You giggled through the pain.
Just as your mouths were going to connect in a kiss, the door slammed open. If you weren’t in the peak stages of heat, you would’ve taken your fighting stance by now. But currently you didn’t care about anything except your alpha.
“Times up lover birds.” One of the alphas said in a crude mocking tone. And at that very instance, something inside Bucky changed. You felt it as your alpha went still.
Bucky didn’t know exactly what it was. But it was an odd mixture of his feral alpha instinct protect your omega added with the deadly combination of the winter soldier and the sharpness of the white wolf.
He only had two goals in his mind, first, take out the threats, second, satisfy his omega. With cold eyes, he calculated each and every hydra agent and the level of strength they possessed.
Your nose twitched with the pungent smell of the other alphas as they walked in further. You buried your face in your alpha’a chest. You knew he would protect you no matter what.
Bucky slowly untangled you from himself without losing eyes contact with the agents. You whined and complained the entire time, “Alpha please don’t go.” He could feel how much you needed him,
“Shhhh,… count till fifteen, omega and I’ll be back by then.” He curled the fingers of his vibranium arm as he rose to his full height. Within the blink of an eye, he was upon the hydra goons, taking them down one by one.
Counting was difficult for you in your lust filled haze. All you could think about was the thick knot of your alpha and how it would fill you up. But since Bucky had told you to count, you did start counting till ten.
You were on thirteen when Bucky came back. You had stared with wide eyes in the beginning as he had fought, but then your need had overtaken your senses and you had started rubbing yourself.
The tactical suit didn’t really give much friction but something was better than nothing. When Bucky came back, you rubbed your nose all over his neck to scent him again.
Without missing much time, Bucky picked you up bridal style, he knew you won’t be able to walk in your state. “Hold onto me tight.” Bucky himself was getting desperate by the second.
You slung your arms around him as he carried you out of the cell. With eyes of a hawk, Bucky searched each and every corner of the warehouse before walking ahead.
Gladly the quinjet wasn’t much far away and Bucky breathed out with relief when you walked inside. Fucking you in the warehouse or the quinjet wasn’t an option so he had to reach the Avengers tower before it was too late.
You had once again retreated to sucking Bucky’s neck with your wet lips and tongue as he ensured the jet was at the right altitude before putting it on autopilot.
He took a seat and groaned when you curled around him. Your slick had now seeped through your pants and you were desperately rubbing yourself on Bucky’s thigh.
“Alpha, I’m so… empty. Please alpha please. Fill me up!” You had no idea of the effect your words had on him. With a growl, he finally pulled you in for a kiss.
The kiss was sloppy and a little too desperate. It was your first kiss with Bucky, but it felt as if you had spent years perfecting it. You started whining in his mouth when the friction his thigh provided wasn’t enough.
“Need you.” Bucky pulled your pants just down so that he could finally touch your sopping pussy. Your back arched as his fingers diligently rubbed your aching clit.
It wasn’t enough, not even close to what you needed; but it was at least soothing the deep ache in your belly. Your moans were swallowed by Bucky and you closed your eyes in relief as you lost yourself in the kiss.
Your eyes flew open the moment Bucky pushed two thick fingers into your needy hole. You squirmed at the sensation of finally being filled. He furiously pumped his fingers into you as you clenched around him.
“Alpha… ummm, Bucky!..” you were constantly chanting his name. Bucky wanted nothing more than to put you on the floor of the jet, make you present for him, fuck you till you saw stars, and knot you so good that you forgot about everything except him.
But he couldn’t do that, little more patience, he talked himself through his urges. Seeing you had bared your neck in submission, Bucky latched on to your scent gland.
He had the sense to not bite you right now,… though you loved him, and it wouldn’t be so bad, you’d be his forever, you’d carry his mark and be filled with his pups,… NO.
He couldn’t do that, you had trusted him and he wasn’t going to let you down. So for the time being, he just had his fill in sucking and nibbling your neck. As he licked your gland, your heat fueled pheromones made him even more feral.
His hot, wet mouth right over your scent gland was enough to drive you over the edge. “Ahhh, right there omega.” Your slick leaked on his hand as you came around his fingers. Your eyes were hazy and heavy and you had look on your face that screamed satisfied.
Bucky was relieved when he checked to see you weren’t very far from the tower. He was barely hanging by a string of dignity to not knot you in front of everyone else and he didn’t know how long that string went. He reluctantly pulled his fingers out and pulled your pants up again.
“Noooo,… please, I need more. I… I… pleaseee.” You were so empty all of a sudden that you couldn’t quite formulate a sentence. “Shhh. I won’t give you what you want. Not right now.”
Your lower lips started wobbling and tears sprang in your eyes. Alpha doesn’t want to knot me. Alpha doesn’t want to make me his. I’ve been a bad omega.
“What happened?” Bucky’s voice was very tender and concerned unlike before. “You… you don’t wanna knot me. I… I must’ve been a bad girl.” Bucky couldn’t believe how stupid he was. He should’ve thought before saying as ill worded as that.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I just wanted to say that I can’t do it here.” He said pointing to the jet. “You’re the sweetest girl ever. And I promise you omega, the moment we reach our room I’m going to fill you up so good you’d be leaking me for days.”
Your eyes perked up and you gave him a sweet smile and rested your head on his chest. “I love you.” Your hot breath fell on his ear as you whispered. You believed your alpha, most importantly, you believed Bucky.
Bucky traced your lower lip with his thumb before putting it in your mouth. He literally felt you melt around his thumb as you sucked on it. A small smile spread across his face when he realised you loved having your mouth around something. His neck, his thumb… his cock.
You both jerked up as the FRIDAY announced that you had reached your destination. Bucky picked you again and walked out without caring much for anything else.
The entire way up to your room was an hell of a ride. Bucky entire posture and eyes were saying touch her and I’ll fuck you up. And he was growling at every other person on the way up, including Steve who had come to see you.
When you reached Bucky’s suite, he locked the door shut and walked into his bedroom. Bucky shifted your entire weight on his metal arm as he quickly stripped his bedsheets and duvets and collected all the clothes and covers and created a messy nest on the floor.
“I’ll make you the biggest and the softest nest once this is done. Where you and our pups will be safe.” You preened at the mention of pups and wiggled in his arms.
He had lately been seeing some sweet domestic videos on YouTube called ‘how to make a nest’ and a few others. It wasn’t half as beautiful as they had shown, but it would do for the time being.
You were sweating profusely and you wanted clothes gone by all cost. Bucky seemed to read your mind as in the very next second he started removing your clothes.
It didn’t take much time for you to be naked and he followed closely. You breathed comfortably when the cool air of the room finally enveloped your body. Your and Bucky’s scents intermingled and together it smelled so perfect, it smelled like home.
Without waiting for anything further, you jumped into the overly fluffy nest and snuggled your nose into one of Bucky’s Henley.
Turning on your stomach, you raised your ass up, presenting for Bucky. All you head was a loud growl before Bucky pounced on you. “Oh omega mine, I’m going to give ya all you need.”
Fuck. Breed. Repeat. Was all that was going on in Bucky’s brain. He spread out the globes of your ass to see your slick drip down on the sheets. He wanted to taste you, but he was painfully hard and he could eat you out later on.
Placing a hand on your neck, he guided his cock to your hole with his other hand. He entered you with one strong thrust. “You’re taking me so well.” He gave you a moment to adjust before beginning to ram into you with abandon.
When Bucky stuffed you full of his cock, all thoughts left your body. He was so thick and long, he touched such sensitive spots you didn’t even know they existed. Your omega hindbrain did a happy little dance at being finally being satisfied.
You spread your legs even more as Bucky snapped his hips into yours. His knot had started swelling at the base and your toes curled at the sensation of it spearing you.
His tongue and lips were caressing your neck as his flesh hand tweaked your nipples. His metal arm was tightly holding on to your waist, to keep you steady. Your hands were curled into the covers and your face was buried in the pillows.
“You’re gonna be so full of me. I’m gonna fill you up so good that you’ll be pregnant with my pups in no time. You’d look so good, glowing like a goddess, keeping our pups safe. Everyone else would know who your alpha is.”
You shuddered at his words and he got off on the power he had over you. “Yes alpha! You’re making me feel so good. I need your knot. Breed me Bucky! Make me yours!” Your eyes were closed and you were babbling all your nasty thoughts.
“Fuck… my perfect omega. You were made for me!” His voice was thunderous in your ear and you moaned. The noise of slapping of skin reverberated throughout the room.
Pleasure was flowing through your veins as Bucky kept up his pace. Your bodies were covered with sweat, tears and slick and your scents were stagnating the room.
Your mouth was slack open and seeing the opportunity, Bucky inserted two of his flesh fingers into your mouth and you instantly started suckling them.
“Mine.” Bucky snarled in your ear.
That one word was enough to make you come. It felt like an explosion as pleasure raked through your body. You felt his knot swell up and your legs tinged with anticipation.
“Yours Bucky. Only yours.” Your voice was low as you still rode the highs of pleasure but it was enough for Bucky’s super soldier hearing to pick up. He surround himself in your scent by burying his face between your shoulder and neck.
You cried out as his thick knot finally caught and you two fitted like a puzzle. You felt his hot seed fill you and it triggered another orgasm. The only thing you could feel and understand was Bucky and his knot.
You were floating on a cloud of bliss as Bucky slowly rocked into you despite being locked. It was much better than the fantasies you came up with at night. And the best part was, you knew this wasn’t the last time.
Bucky’s huge arms enveloped around you like a cocoon. You slightly opened your eyes to see him smiling down at you. “What?” Your heat had somewhat subsided but you knew it would come back soon enough.
“Can’t believe how lucky I am.” He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead which somehow felt more intimate than fucking. His blue eyes were twinkling with happiness and you were sure yours were too. “I love you.”
“I love you too, my big bad alpha.” You chuckled as Bucky gasped. “Hey! Don’t give me ideas. Though you’d look so good in a red cape. I’d chase you all the way in the forest and you know I’ll get you. And then there won’t be anyone else to save my sweet little omega.”
“Maybe… I don’t want to be saved.” You quipped with a wink.
1K notes · View notes
abstract ; you’ve worked at suite 8 for a year now, but bucky decides he has other plans for you. after an eviction notice you realize you have nothing left to lose and take bucky’s offer of working for him.
pairing ; mob!bucky barnes x f!stripper!reader
word count ; 3,989 words
warnings ; age-gap [reader is 28 & bucky is 39], mob involvement, club scene, drinking, pet-name [honey], threats [to reader’s job], sleazy men, mean!bucky, eviction notice, manipulation & coercion [on bucky’s part], innocence/purity kink, size kink [bucky is 6’5], reader insert is used [y/n], sexual tension, alludes to reader’s praise kink — 18+ ONLY || MINORS DNI
notes ; this is a plot heavy chapter, but i’m so excited for this besties
“You’re back on in five, Chérie.” Adrienne informs you, her thick French accent dripping in every syllable as you gulp down the rest of your water and begin to reapply your lipstick.
The night had begun, person after person pouring in to sit back on the plush velvet couches and enjoy the show that was put on display for them.
None of them ever really minded the dancers too much attention.
You were simply just background to them as they discussed whatever business they had over a glass of the most expensive whiskey the bartender, Raul, carried.
You then felt Adrienne’s hand on your shoulder as you look at her through the mirror, “he’s expected to be here tonight.”
She whispers lowly, so low that the other girls can’t overhear her as the hair on the nape of your neck stands tall in fear.
You swallow thickly, mustering up any ounce of courage to nod your head as your eyes lock with the older woman stood behind you, “has he requested me?”
The words leave your mouth with unease because you’re unable to wrap your brain around why he always asked, no requested, you.
Adrienne just nods her head casually, phone gleaming in her hands as she very clearly has more important matters to attend to.
She always does when she’s in charge of making sure the most illustrious club that caters to the biggest and baddest of New York is running smoothly.
“Yes, dear. So don’t be late, we wouldn’t want to anger him. You know how he gets.”
Her words send a cold shiver down your spine, heart dropping into your stomach as you thought about what he, The White Wolf, would do if he was angered.
Angered by you.
You sure as hell weren’t about to find out, bolting upright and taking one last look at yourself before pushing past the heavy metal doors and re-entering the club.
As if on cue, Lust by SAINt JHN begins to play over the speakers; heels clicking to the sultry beat and you knew that he was already in the lounge waiting.
You were late.
Two armed bodyguards standing on either side of the doors to the private lounge. They knew you well, or well enough, to let you slip through the doors and into the dark room.
It was an entirely different atmosphere; sinister and ominous as you approach the stage with four pairs of eyes on you.
“You’re late.” His voice cuts through the air and causes you to gasp and stop dead in your tracks.
Frozen in fear.
Your heart races, beating wildly as you try to steady your breathing while you turn to look at him.
He’s sitting on the single couch in the room, an arm slung over the back as the other clutches a glass of what you can only guess to be whiskey.
The look in his eyes is fucking terrifying.
So why did it cause a dull ache between your thighs when he looked you up and down, eyes grazing down your legs, over your breasts, and back up to your face as he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth.
“It won’t happen again.” You manage to stutter out, trying to remain as composed and professional as possible, but it was increasingly difficult with the older gentleman that had accompanied him who looking at you with hungry eyes.
His gaze made you sick. Nauseous, even, as you avert your eyes back over to the man of every fucking hour.
“No,” he barked. “It won’t.”
He says nothing further, turning his attention back to his colleague, partner, or enemy for all you knew before you wobble back up to the stage.
You had to collect yourself.
Taking a few deep breaths before you feel at home dancing in front of two dangerous men and their own personal bodyguards that paid little to no attention to you.
Suite 8 was the most prestigious club in all of New York City.
It was so exclusive that you had to be someone in order to get past the doors.
It was so exclusive that didn’t even have an address.
In fact, it was so illustrious that if anyone were to leak any information on the location, how to get in, or any other clues they would be, well...taken care of.
This, of course, was because it was run and owned by the White Wolf himself, or lesser known as Bucky Barnes.
The man of the fucking hour.
You’re unsure of how long you’ve been dancing, but not only are you growing tired, but you’re growing bored.
The least Mr. Barnes could do is pay you some attention.
However, this would never happen. Not when he has more important business to attend to and truthfully, you’re lucky to even be in the same room as him.
When he raises a hand, dark metal spliced and intertwined with what you could only imagine to be real gold, the music cuts immediately.
“I’ll call you if anything changes, Leonard.” Mr. Barnes says to the older man before excusing him and waiting for him to leave the room.
He turns his attention fully onto you, cocking his head as you feel minuscule under the weight of his gaze.
“I don’t give second chances,” he speaks sternly.
You gulp, heart kicking again, but not in fear this time. No, you were furious.
He beckons you down from the small stage, heels clicking against the dark marbled floors until you were just feet away from him.
And then he rose to his full, towering height.
Mr. Barnes not only oozed confidence, but he was an Adonis of a man.
He must’ve been six foot five because even in your heels, you didn’t come close to his stature.
“Don’t be late again, Honey.” He purrs in your ear, voice low and raspy but you will yourself to keep it together because your rage is still coursing through your veins.
How fucking dare he?
You know you should bite your tongue. That you need this job as you’re currently living paycheque to paycheque, but you’ve never been good at letting men get away with shit.
“I’m not the one you need to give second chances to,” you suddenly spit right as Mr. Barnes goes to turn on his heels.
Instead, he stops dead in his tracks and you see the way his muscles tense under the fitted black dress shirt he’s donning.
“Adrienne needs more than a five minute heads up to give me, Mr. Barnes.” You were digging your own grave as you spoke, but at you were sick of his kind.
He turns, slowly, a twinkle in his eyes and a smirk tugging on his lips as you suck in a harsh, deep breath.
“You’re a brave little thing, aren’t you?” He says, eyebrow raised and you knew you should’ve concealed your emotions better.
But you didn’t.
Letting your eyes roll before going to take a step past him, intent of walking out that door before he catches your upper arm in a tight grip that makes your heart fall out of your goddamn ass.
“May I remind you,” he barks. “That you’re here for my entertainment.”
He looks viscous, the Cane Corso of men, as he bares his teeth at you and snarls.
“You don’t want to end up on my bad side, Honey.” He reminds you with a dark look to him that says he wasn’t fucking around.
And you heard the rumours. The way that to him, people are disposable.
You were shaking, knees buckling because despite his power and threats, you finally got a close look at him.
At the frown lines that creased along his forehead. The way his nostrils flared when he spoke. And the blue hues swimming somewhere in his angry eyes.
With your job on the line you manage to swallow your pride, “my apologies, Mr. Barnes.”
He chuckles, a blood curdling sound as he shakes his head, “you should get better at lyin’.”
You feel your heart sink into your stomach at his words, clenching your jaw as you wait for him to deliver the last and final blow to your dead end career.
Instead, he pulls you closer, lowly whispering in your ear. “I like you, Honey. You’re not like the rest of ‘em.”
“But it still doesn’t mean you can say whatever the hell you want to me and not expect to be...” he pulls away to run his tongue over his bottom lip, “punished.”
Your arm is dropped, but the the phantom imprints of his fingertips are burned into your skin, a feeling that surely would stick with you.
Mr. Barnes turns again, nearly out of the private lounge, “oh and Honey?” He catches your attention for the final time that night.
“Call me Bucky,” he then drops his right eye in a wink before stepping through the doors and leaving you alone with your thoughts.
Despite working at Suite 8 for a year now, working for Bucky for a year, you know virtually nothing about him.
In all fairness, no one knows much about him.
Still, he fascinated you. Always so confident, stern, and dangerous.
His words continue to replay in your mind, bouncing off of your brainwaves because Bucky thought you were different.
Bucky, the White fucking Wolf, liked you.
To what degree? You didn’t know, but it sure as hell was better than being hated by him, you knew that much.
Bucky Barnes was an enigma that you were determined to crack, but little did you know what lengths Mr. Barnes would go to make sure that his favourite entertainer stayed just that.
ONE WEEK LATER
“Adrienne?” You looked at her, confused as you look for your name on the posted schedule.
She merely hums in response, barely looking up from her device, “I’m not on?”
Thankfully your words grab her attention and she skims the board before giving you an answer.
“Ah, oui.” She replies in French, “Mr. Barnes has requested you for the night.”
That couldn’t be good. The entire night?
“Chérie,” the soft pet-name makes you look at her, “you don’t seem excited?”
You should be, this was Mr. Barnes after all, but with his words were permanently etched into your mind...you weren’t too sure that him requesting you was a good thing.
“I am,” you force a smile onto your face. “It’s just...unexpected.”
Adrienne smiles knowingly, “I’ve worked with Moiseur Barnes for ten years and he’s never taken such liking into anyone.”
Your heart rate spikes, “now go.” She urges, “or you’ll be late again.”
You’re darting off in the direction of the private lounge reserved solely for Bucky, the same two armed bodyguards standing on either side.
They each give you a nod as you push through the doors.
“You’re late, again.” Bucky doesn’t let you get more than three steps into the room before his voice cuts sharply through the air again.
It’s not a suggestion, but a command and you’re quick to scramble across the floor before you’re sat in the much too comfortable couch adjacent to Bucky.
The expression on his face is unreadable and you can’t seem to decipher the way his eyes scan over your body.
“Mr. Barnes if I can ju—“
“I don’t give second chances.” He reminds you, voice low and it causes goosebumps to prickle across your skin.
You take a deep breath, closing your eyes, once again bracing for those two words to come out of his mouth.
The dreadful words that would send your world crumbling all because you were a couple of minutes late.
“Tell me, Honey,” your eyes fly open just in time to watch him lean his body into yours.
“Just how many degrees do you have?”
His question catches you off-guard, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you open your mouth, “three.”
He hums in response, leaning back into the couch before taking a sip of his cooled drink.
“Come work for me.”
You’re left utterly shocked and speechless at the words that come from his mouth. So startled that you’re unable to form a coherent thought or sentence while Bucky looks at you with a sly smirk.
“I’ll pay three times as much, cover your living expenses, and protect you.” Your breathing hitches in your throat.
You then had to remind yourself who Bucky Barnes was.
New York’s finest criminal.
“Why should I work for you if I already work for you?” You ask, the question causes Bucky to raise a single eyebrow in amusement.
He places his whiskey down, edging closer to you on the couch. There’s nowhere else to go, no one else in the room, you could scream all you want, but the soundproofing would do you no good.
You were at Bucky’s mercy as he places a heavy and cold hand on your knee, “because you’re different.”
Someone like Bucky should wear a warning, the way his eyes pierce your soul and his cologne washes over you. It was distinctly Bucky, everything about the way he smelled screams power.
“I need someone who’s,” he pauses to lean back again, “pure.”
You’re still looking at him, unsure of what the fuck was happening.
He shoots you a look, one that shows his disappointment at the way you’re referring to him.
“Bucky,” you quickly correct yourself. “I think you’ve got the wrong girl.”
He chuckles lowly, shaking his head.
“You have 48 hours to decide,” he says, slipping his business card into the garter around your thigh and his touch feels like fire.
Bucky says nothing more, stepping out of the room without giving you a second glance.
You were left all alone, booked until the end of your shift with nothing to do.
The walk back to your shitty apartment was bittersweet as you felt the weight of Bucky’s business card burning a hole in the back pocket of your jeans.
When you climbed the three flights of stairs, yanking your ear buds at the sight of the pink slip that was taped to your front door before you tore it in a fit of rage, frustration, and defeat.
An eviction notice.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me!”
It feels like the entire world is against you in this moment.
Everything in your life slowly crumbling as you slid down the wall and groaned before you dig that black piece of paper out of your pocket.
Running your thumb over the gold detailing of his name, you chew on your lip in contemplation.
Because truly, you have nothing left to lose.
Dialling the number imprinted at the bottom makes your adrenaline pump through your veins before you lift the phone to your ear.
It feels ten times heavier.
Then it rings. And rings. And rings some more and you think this is just some elaborate prank he’s pulling on you.
Then he picks up.
“I take it you changed your mind, Honey.” He says immediately. You’re shocked at his forwardness, still clutching the pink slip as your mouth hangs slightly open.
He seems to take your silence as a sign to keep talking.
“Pack only the essentials, Larry will pick you up at eight. Don’t be late, I know how you can get.” You can hear the smirk he’s wearing through the phone as he mutters the last sentence.
Still, you haven’t been able to say a single word, shaking yourself out of your trance.
“Okay,” you finally splutter out. “What am I going to be doing?”
It’s only now that you realize you have no idea what your job description is going to be. It’s terrifying and exciting as Bucky chuckles through the phone.
“You’ll be an analyst of sorts,” Bucky says.
“So, I’ll be collecting data?” You ask.
There’s a brief pause on the other line, “sort of.”
It only entices you further, but you don’t think you’ll get any more answers from him.
“Don’t push your luck, Honey. Just be ready for eight.” You don’t get a chance to retaliate before the line goes dead and you’re left to reevaluate your entire life and choices.
You’re finally packed. Two suitcases.
Your entire life is about to change and you’ve packed your entire history in two suitcases.
You can’t sleep, tossing and turning as your mind isn’t able to stop racing.
Taking a job from Bucky Barnes. The White Wolf of New York City is either the smartest thing you’ve ever done or it’s what is going to get you killed.
You’d be lying if you said you slept. It was more like a series of naps before you finally said fuck it and woke up to make yourself a cup of coffee.
Then you took a shower, looking your best before saying one final goodbye to your old crummy apartment that you oddly began to miss.
Larry is right on time. It’s evident that he works for Bucky.
He’s a short Italian man with a receding hairline and too many dad jokes for you to stomach as you slide into the sleek SUV.
You’re pretty sure it’s bulletproof from how thick the windows are and how dark the paint is.
It crawls silently like a predator through the busy and bustling streets of New York.
You watch your old life fade away, creeping deeper and deeper into the heart of the city before you’re stepping out in front of the well known skyscraper.
“Mr. Barnes has requested you come to his office.” An unfamiliar woman’s voice sounds from behind you.
You turn to face her, watching her stoic expression, “follow me.”
She doesn’t give you time to respond before she’s set off while Larry is taking care of your bags.
You’re forced to follow her, stopping at an elevator before getting it. She slides a keycard into a slot before a button emerges from beneath the silver plating.
It has a “B” on it and nothing more before the elevator is ascending into the clouds.
You’re led down a long hallway before stopping at large black-painted wooden doors.
“He’s expecting you.” Is all she says before she once again turns on her heels and walks away, leaving you to push the doors open.
You enter the lavish office where Bucky stands dressed in black jeans and a black shirt while leaning against his desk with his phone to his ear and he doesn’t look too pleased.
He doesn’t even say goodbye, he simply ends the call.
Bucky Barnes doesn’t only exude power, but he is the very definition of power.
“Welcome,” he greets. “Take it all in because you’ll be spending lots of time with me now.”
It’s an overwhelming sensation, looking down over New York City. The same city that had swallowed you up and seemingly spat you out, but now you were the one overlooking it all.
Things were finally starting to go your way.
“We need to get started, Honey.” Bucky then whispers, placing a warm hand on the small of your back.
It startles you ever so slightly.
You hope he doesn’t hear the way your breath catches in your throat, but you know better than that.
“Okay,” you whisper out, turning to face him.
He’s much closer than you thought he was going to be, looking down at you with twinkling eyes and fuck does he look good.
Bucky leads you to his desk, telling you to sit in one of the chairs before he takes his place against the desk once again.
“I know you’re a smart girl,” he begins, crossing his arms over his chest.
You can now see the tattoos that litter his arm. An intricate sleeve with lots of detail before your eyes flicker to the inhuman one.
“I mean a full ride at MIT? That’s not somethin’ anyone can do.” He remarks and you’re pulled from your trance, flustered and dismayed.
“How did you—“ but you have to stop yourself as he gives you a smirk, “never mind.”
“Listen, I’ll get straight to the point.” He says, bending down to place his hands on either side of your armrest, locking you into the chair as you suck in a harsh breath.
The same wave of cologne washes over you; bergamot, cinnamon, and oranges.
“Let’s jus’ say that my tech guy got himself into a bit of...trouble.” You gulp, watching the way his smirk tugs on the edge of his lips.
It almost seemed like he was enjoying the way you quiver under him.
“And I need to keep my eyes on the city.” He explains, “we’ve gone ghost, over 24 hours with little to no surveillance over banks, dealerships, anythin’.”
He doesn’t need to explain what you’ll be doing because you’ve already connected the dots.
“Can you handle that?” He asks you, standing up straight but never breaking eye contact.
You nod your head, but he frowns.
“Big girl words, use ‘em.” He barks.
“Yes,” you gulp. “I can do that.”
He smiles, nodding his head as he hums in content.
“Good girl. Now let’s go meet the team and get you set up.” He says, pushing away from the desk and extending his bionic arm for you to take.
You do, letting him pull you up before you’re flush against his chest.
“Welcome to the team, Y/N,” he smirks and it’s the first time you hear your name leave his lips.
There’s a glint in his eyes that scream mischief and you’re already lost in those damn eyes of his.
There was no going back now.
Bucky’s team is nothing short of geniuses. Clearly the top one percent of the graduates at most prestigious schools and academy’s in the world.
Which is why you can’t help but feel left out.
They welcome you, but call you fresh meat before Bucky sends them a glare that shuts them right up.
You get straight to work, well-aware of Bucky’s gaze on quite literally everything that you do.
Except there’s one detail that he can’t get from transcripts.
You work exceptionally well under pressure.
And you’re damn good at what you do.
Within hours each server is up and running, streaming live footage, access to anything and everything on each file, and best of all, you’ve created a back-up system.
“Impressive.” Bucky says as he leads you back into the elevator and for some Godforsaken reason the praise makes you shiver.
“Where are we going?” You squeak out, watching yet another mysterious button pop from under the silver plating.
This time, it’s blank, nothing on it as Bucky presses it with a vibranium thumb.
He turns to you and smiles, “home.”
“Wait,” you stop as soon as you get two feet out of the elevator. “I’m living with you?”
Bucky rolls his eyes, “don’t be stupid, of course you are.”
He doesn’t even stop, walking further into the penthouse as you’re forced to scamper behind his long strides.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Honey. You’ll have your own room, bathroom, even kitchen. Think of it as your own apartment.” He says, looking down at you as you reach a flight of stairs, ascending them.
“Except this way,” he smirks. “I can keep an eye on you and keep you safe.”
Your heart stutters, what could he possible be keeping you safe from? You’re not even sure if you want to know the answer to that question.
“Home sweet home,” he muses, opening a door that leads into an apartment three times the size of your previous one and your jaw drops.
“Holy fuck.” You don’t realize you’ve said it out loud until you hear Bucky bark out a laugh.
“I knew you’d like it, Honey. Now rest up, you’ll be going into town with me tomorrow.”
1K notes · View notes
How chubby baker Bucky looks at you when you pretty much do anything 🥰
Pairing: Chubby Baker Bucky x reader
Warnings: 6'4" Chubby Bucky, fluff, mentions of oral, shy Bucky
A/N: A little something while I work on a longer fic. Written on my phone.
He looks at you as if you're the sun, the moon and every single star in the sky.
You'll be in the midst of doing something mudane and hear his happy sigh behind you, turning around to see him watching you, his blue eyes soft and full of love, his lips curled into a slight smile.
And that look that shimmers to the surface of his piercing slate blues, oh that look makes you want to shy away from its intensity and bask in its warmth all at once.
You'll never get used to him gazing at you like that. Like you're a beautiful goddess and he's so lucky to be in your presence.
Bucky would follow you around and just watch you all day if he could. Because as he tells you, "he's never seen anyone as pretty as you."
He loves those mornings when neither one of you have to do anything. Instead of rushing to get to the bakery at 5 am, Bucky gets to watch you get ready for the day.
He'll stand behind you, his head on your shoulder, his large wandering hands distracting you as you brush your teeth in between laughing at his corny baking puns. "You know whats the best part about dating a baker is Peach?"
"You have cute buns."
"We always rise to the-" Bucky splutters to a stop, his face turning beet red, the flush spreading to his neck. His mouth flounders open for a second. "My ass is cute?"
Bursting into giggles, you rinse out your mouth and turn around, his hands latching onto your waist. You reach around and grab two handfuls of his ass, squeezing him. "Damn right it is and the best part is this-" you slap his cheek, "-is all mine."
His other cheeks turn even redder and he grins, ducking his head slightly. A shyly and endearingly soft mumbled Peach leaves his lips and that look settles back into his blue eyes.
Bucky sighs, a blissful breathy sound that sends a shiver down your back.
"Instead of us going out today," he starts, his gaze drifting between your lips and your eyes, "can we stay inside and I'll spend all day telling you everything last thing I love about you?" He offers hopefully, wanting nothing more than to have you all to himself l.
How can you say no to your man worshiping you all day?
Buckys eyes light up when you agree and he follows you out of the bathroom.
"Oh and Peach-" He says, swinging you into his arms like you weight absolutely nothing, he laughs at your surprised squeak, you both know that he loves doing that, taking every opportunity to sweetly manhandle you, reminding you that you're always safe with him.
He grins down at you, his nose scrunching.
"It's because I rise to the occasion." He winks at you, biting his bottom lip suggestively. " And I'll always rise for you."
He laughs hard at your groan, the boisterous sound rumbling over you. "I got so many more jokes Peach, you know you 'knead' to hear them. Get it knead like when I-"
You groan louder, turning your face into his warm chest to hide your smile. He bounds down the steps, spouting off more puns until you're laughing hysterically.
And as he sets you on the kitchen island and hands you a mixing bowl, he gives you that look again before stealing a kiss that turns into a sweet passionate embrace. He keeps kissing you, his lips languidly skating over yours, until you're breathless and he's dizzy.
Slowly breaking away, he rubs his thumb over his bottom lip as if he can't believe he still gets to feel your lips on his.
"I don't think I can wait until tonight to have dessert, " he murmurs, cupping your face in his large hands. His eyes darkening with lust as he stares into your eyes.
"I'm going have you right here, over and over, until I can't eat anymore or you pass out." he promises, his voice deepening. The way he goes from your shy baker to your feral man with just a kiss is exhilarating.
"After I make you breakfast of course."
Likes, Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you for reading.
2K notes · View notes
Delicate Edges (1)
series summary: Trapped under a mountain of debt to the Hydra club, it is only in moments when Bucky walks into your flower shop that you forget the cruelty of the biker clubs of this town. But a war is brewing. And Bucky will stop at nothing to keep you safe. (Biker!AU)
pairing: Bucky x reader
chapter word count: 7k
chapter warnings: sexual harassment, reference to parents’ deaths (cancer, heart attack), extortion, drunken assholes, a blue eyed stranger to the rescue
a/n: the first chapter!! welcome to my new series! reminder that there is no tag list, but you can use notifications on @wkemeup-fics for updates 🖤 can't wait to hear what yout think!
series masterlist / series playlist
Your hands were shaking as you attempted to flatten a five-dollar bill against the counter; rolling the paper along the edge, smoothing out the stubborn crinkled lines. At the far end of the shop, the clock hanging above the door echoed with every tick – its hour hand inching toward the eight in short, threatening strokes. The sound carried over the static laced strum of Seven Bridges Road on the radio as if it could strike you through the chest.
“You alright there, deary?” Ms. Leary asked, pointing a finger to your trembling hands as you fumbled with her change. Her tone carried a light waver in its inflection – a charming symptom of her age and years of cigarettes in her youth. To your left was a bouquet of sunset orange marigolds and white carnations – Ms. Leary’s regular Tuesday order the night before she visited her husband downtown at St. John’s Nursing Home. “You seem awfully nervous. Do you have a date tonight?”
Pennies spilled onto the counter as you dared another glance up at the clock. Despite the paralyzing twist of anxiety knotting in your stomach, you pressed out a smile. Ms. Leary was a kind woman; one who shouldn’t trouble herself with knowledge of the men who would find their way into your shop in less than a few minutes time.
“I’ve got enough on my plate with the flower shop these days, don’t you think?” you said, dismissing her assumption awkwardly.
“Always time for love, my dear.” She grinned, gathering her bouquet in her arms. She did not appear bothered in the slightest by the unintentional sharpness in your tone. A smudge of red lipstick touched the edge of her cheek as if her hand had tremorred as she applied it that morning.
You nodded, though you found her romanticism rather unrealistic, and quickly extended the change you were almost certain you miscounted. The register would be short a few dollars, but you didn’t care. Not this close to eight. Not as long as Ms. Leary was gone before he showed up.
“Send Lionel my best, will you?” you asked, willing a kindness back to your voice.
You walked her to the door, a gentle hand guiding against her back as she attempted to linger by the roses. She was slow in her pace and you threw a cautious glance back to the clock again. It mocked you, taunted you – with its bright red hands violently ticking along the notches. Inching closer.
By the time you finally escorted Ms. Leary through the door, sweat had beaded at the nape of your neck. She gave you a wave, promising to see you again next week and bring a batch of her “world famous” chocolate chip cookies beloved by her rowdy grandkids. Charming and kind, oblivious to the threatening loom of shadows as she waddled to her car. You waited in the window until you knew she was safely inside and only when the bright flash of her headlights filled the shop, you shut the front door and locked it.
Next, came the overhead lights; turning off each switch one by one until only a low cast of a single lamp was all that remained. The neon open sign was unplugged, the lights flickering until it, too, faded to back. Those were the rules – lock the door, turn off the lights. Your father had taught you from a young age how to avoid attention when it was time to pay your dues.
Only a few minutes were left as the hour hand approached eight o’clock. You rushed back to the register, nearly tripping over a vase of carnations and the watering hose laying in the middle of the walkway. You cursed under your breath, shoving the hose under the table.
The register wouldn’t have the money you needed. You’d have to fish some extra change out from your wallet to make up the difference for the extra dollars you’d given Ms. Leary. It would make you short on groceries for the week, but you’d rather face an empty stomach than whatever consequences laid in store for being any more under on your payment than you already were.
You rummaged in the bottom of your bag in search of your wallet, nearly threatening to spill the entirety of its contents onto the counter in frustration, when you finally grabbed a hold of the old, faded leather. It had belonged to your father once. His initials were still engraved on the inside pocket.
Your thumb brushed against the lettering. A gift from your mother on your parent’s fifth wedding anniversary. The poor thing was holding on by a thread with all the cracks in the binding and the withered down leather. But your father had carried it for decades. Parting with it felt like betrayal.
“I heard you had a date tonight.”
You froze, hands gripping tight to the cash inside the wallet at the sound of the familiar voice. You hadn’t even noticed the creak of the hinges at the back door, or his footsteps carrying gravel and mud in from the alley. Foolish mistakes your father spent years warning you against.
Always be prepared. Never show your fear. Don't let you guard down for even a second.
Over your shoulder, a figure emerged amongst the shadows. The outline of the sort of man that had been terrorizing your family for almost a decade – black motorcycle jacket hanging off his shoulders, silver rings upon his fingers, and muddied boot prints following in his wake against the clean tile. On his back was faded stitching of a skull with six tentacles emerging from its base – the insignia of the Hydra club.
Marked by the skull on his jacket and the loud hum of motorcycles in the streets, the smart folk in this town had learned to steer clear of Hydra’s men. Scattering in the streets at the sound of engines in the distance, closing up shop before nightfall when the shadows were at their highest. You’d never had a choice in the matter. You’d been thrown under the boot of Hydra long before you were old enough to know what it meant.
“Don’t hold back on me, Y/n. I heard the old lady say you were looking nervous. You miss me that bad?” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he approached, eyeing the vases full of flowers lining the walls of your shop as if he could set fire to the petals with a mere glance.
As he stepped forward into the dim light, you took in the jet-black hair swept away from his face, the hardened look about his features. Wide jaw and cold eyes. Lackey for the Hydra club and right-hand man – Jack Rollins.
You felt the edge of the counter against your spine. Paper crumbled inside your grip; dollar bills molding to the shape of your fist with every step he took. Still, you stayed silent. Couldn’t speak if you had the voice to try. Not with the near decade old Hydra insignia carved into the wall above your doorway – a mocking reminder of what your father had desperately done to help pay your mother’s medical bills and get her into an experimental treatment that didn’t take. Hidden behind an old clock for the sake of your own sanity, but you knew it was there -- watching.
It didn’t matter that it had all been in vain, that the cancer still managed to take your mother after years of suffering through chemo and withering away beyond the woman you knew. The flower shop your parents had dedicated their lives to was now in the hands of the most notorious biker gang on the west side of town. Known for shaking down men in the streets and burning businesses to the ground for shorting them on payments; violent and ruthless – and they were coming to collect their dues.
Rollins set his hands on the counter – caging you between them. You held your breath, looking beyond his shoulder to avoid meeting the cold glaze of his stare. His knee pressed against your thighs as his gaze shifted down to your apron where cut stems and fallen petals lined the pockets. Close enough to feel his breath hot against your neck. He parted your legs.
It was a familiar routine – one where the men of Hydra took advantage of their time in your shop under the cover of darkness. They never pushed it further than what it took to instill a slow moving, paralyzing dread into your stomach, but it was enough to remind you that they could. They could do a hell of a lot worse than scare you. Rollins thrived in every reminder.
“Down, boy,” a voice ordered from the shadows.
Rollins tensed; his jaw wiring shut as he grumbled under his breath. It was only when Rollins put half the distance of the shop between you that you were able to draw air back to your lungs. You could still smell the pungent scent of his cologne – bitter and stinging the back of your throat – and you held back a cough before it could choke you. Under your grip, you relaxed your hold on the money, only to find it dampened with sweat and warped to your fingers.
“What did I tell you about playing with your food?” the voice drawled again and slowly, the leader of Hydra club stepped into the light.
You didn’t dare look him in the eye, didn’t dare let your gaze travel over the mesh of scars on the right side of his face or the way his tongue swept out along his bottom lip as he looked at you.
Brock Rumlow masqueraded himself under the guise of prestige and civility, but it was him you feared more than anyone else. Perhaps it was the calm aura he carried, the deadly quiet in his movements and the knowledge that he could snap under even the slightest of pressure and destroy anything within his reach.
Rumlow stepped forward, casually eyeing the series of pre-made bouquets in the display. He picked a lily from its vase, examining it in his hand before he crumbled the petals in his grip. You watched as they fell in a fallen heap to the floor.
“Tell me you have my money, darling.”
You nodded quickly, eager for this dance to be over. “Right here. As much as I’ve been able to set aside. Business has been slow lately.”
You emptied the register and shoved the crumbled dollars from your wallet into the bag Rollins slid across the counter to you. It would only leave you with enough spare change to scrape by for the rest of your month, but you didn’t care. Just as long as they left.
“I’ll get you the rest,” you added, panic laced through your tone as Rumlow approached the bag with a viciously inpatient look upon his face. “This is all I have. I swear.”
“The Hydra club has done business with your father for more than a decade,” Rumlow said, ignoring your attempts to persuade him. “Do you remember what we did to him when he was short on his payments?”
You clenched your jaw so badly, blood pooled into your mouth. Flashes of your father stumbling into the small apartment past midnight flooded your vision – his right arm clung tight to his bruised ribs, his skin stained in shades of blue and purple. Swelling around his eyes. Unable to look your mother in the eye for fear of his shame.
Afraid to speak and allow the blood to slip past your lips, you only nodded.
“Good. Take that into consideration, won’t you?” He spoke as if he wasn’t threatening to beat you within an inch of your life in the alley behind the shop – as casually as one might ask another to remember their keys on the way out the door.
“Maybe we give her a taste right now,” Rollins snickered from his place in the shadows. “She just admitted she’s holding out on you, boss.”
Rumlow stilled, a hardened look crossing his features though he did not glance back in Rollins’ direction. “We’re not animals, Jack. I provided a warning and she knows to heed it. Besides, the girl has to eat. We can’t get our money if she’s too weak to open shop.”
Rollins pressed his lips together, giving a short, infuriated nod, though he said nothing else. He was right, after all. It was impossible for you to give Hydra everything you made in the last month and still be able to keep the shop open, your bills paid, and food in your stomach. But he was wrong if he assumed you were holding back for anything less. You wanted these Hydra assholes out of your life and you wouldn’t hold onto a single dollar extra if it meant getting them off your backs.
“If I may,” a third voice inquired from the shadows.
Under the dim glow of moonlight from the windows, Loki Laufeyson came into view. He was the only one of the crew wearing a fully pressed suit in favor of the motorcycle jacket and laced boots. He ran the numbers, so you heard; handled the financing side of their extracurricular activities, held the deed to your parents’ soul. He didn’t bother himself with the bikes or dirtying his hands in the streets. No – instead, he found his thrills in the stacks of money lining his pockets.
“Miss Y/L/n has been consistent in her payments since she took over ownership of the shop,” Loki continued, fingers coaxing through the long black hair slicked away from his face. “As a token of acknowledgement, consider simply increasing her interest for the next month to make up for the losses today.”
You paled as Rumlow poked a finger into the bag, briefly eyeing the small mound of bills at the bottom of the bag. You held your breath. Minutes, hours, passed in the time he took to decide your fate, to decide whether he’d take follow Rollins’ feral instincts or take Loki’s advice. You’d never be able to come up with the money next month – not with compounded interest – and perhaps Rumlow knew that. Maybe, he got off on knowing he was setting you up for failure, for whatever horrible consequences he had in mind.
But it would give you another month. Misplaced hope that this time would be different. Hope that left you ruined on the first Tuesday of every month.
Then, Rumlow pursed his lips. He gave a nod to Loki, who swiped the bag into his grip.
“We’ll be back next month.” Rumlow gave a short wave to his men as they headed to the back entrance from where they came. But then, Rumlow paused – the shadows obstructing half of his face, touching over him like an old friend. A wicked smirk pressed at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be short next time. I keep a tight lease on Rollins. I imagine you'd like me to keep it that way, yes?”
You nodded, afraid to say much of anything else. Your heart was pounding so loudly you were almost certain Rollins could hear it from across the room. The way his eyes followed you as a terrifying grin tugged on his lips was enough to make you wonder. Then, he turned; the white stitching of the Hydra insignia watching you as he left.
It wasn’t until the door closed behind him and the low rumble of engines spurred in the distance, fading into the night, that you finally allowed yourself to breathe.
“I don’t understand why you can't just go to the police.”
Pietro slid a steaming cup of apple spiced tea across the table. The mug was hand painted from the month he spent at the ceramics shop down the block chasing after the pretty girl with clay on her cheeks and down the front of her smock. You never learned her name, only that Pietro walked away with dozens of sloppily hand painted mugs and a broken heart curtesy of the boyfriend he didn’t know she had.
Pietro slumped into the chair opposite you, brushing his hands against his apron and spreading baking flour down his chest.
“The Hydra club’s a menace to this town,” he continued, a heavy gravel in his voice. “They've got half the town’s businesses under their thumb—”
“—and the precinct in their pocket,” Wanda added, pulling up a chair beside you. She set a tray of dishes on the table and tossed a drying rag at her brother. He gave her a short glare, a battle of wills between them, before he picked up the towel and got to work. Wanda smirked, leaning back into her chair. Her expression sobered as she turned to you. “What did they do this time?”
You shrugged. It wasn’t anything worse than the usual encounters. Rollins was a power-hungry asshole. Loki loomed in the corners in his fine pressed suits like a devious fly on the wall. Rumlow made his less than subtle threats and took your money. You told them as much, though you left out the part where they’d threatened to do you worse if you failed to deliver on your payment next month. Business at the shop had been slower than usual lately, but it wasn’t as if Hydra cared for your excuses. You didn’t want to worry your friends – not with the concerned looks they shared as you spoke.
“How much do you have left on the debt?” Pietro asked quietly.
You clenched your jaw, keeping your focus down on the tea bag as you swirled it inside the cup. Watching the steam circle into the air, the heat of it against your cheeks, the sweet smell of apples in its wake.
“A lot.” More than you could ever hope to pay off.
Your father was desperate when he went to Hydra – offering up the entire deed to the shop and a promise to return double on interest if only they would pay off his dying wife’s medical bills. It was a problem to be dealt with later, he’d told you. All that mattered was climbing out of the medical debt long enough to see your mother get healthy again, to afford an experimental treatment that she wouldn’t live long enough to see the end of. Alexander Pierce was a dangerous man but he played by a certain set of rules. As long as he received his payments, it would be just fine. Your mother would get the treatment she needed and the family business would stay open.
Truthfully, it had worked for a few years. You learned the routine. Tuesday evenings – eight o’clock. Lock the door, turn off the lights. Ready the money. Don’t look them in the eye and don’t make trouble. Don’t resist. Your father had taught you well enough, but the panic of hearing the turn of their engines as they rolled into the alley behind the shop never lessened. They scuffed the tiles when they walked – leaving permanent black marks upon the floors as if to remind you exactly who owned the store your family had given their lives to.
It seemed worth it for a while.
Hydra’s leadership was passed to Rumlow. Your mother was getting better. You survived the worst day of every month.
But then, the treatments stopped working and the cancer took your mother in a matter of months. Your father died of a heart attack not long after. Folks liked to tell you that it was a broken heart that got him in the end, as if that were meant to comfort you in some way. He couldn’t live in a world without your mother, they’d said. It was romantic.
But your heart was broken, too. And you were the one left to deal with the fallout. A mountain of debt. A chain shackled to Hydra. The paralyzing grief of losing both of your parents. There were no words of comfort that could lessen the burden you carried.
“They’re expanding, you know.” Wanda tapped her fingers against her thigh, gaze glancing out the café windows. “I heard from Gregor down on 6th that Rumlow’s starting to charge all of the businesses that fall within Hydra borders. They’re calling it a territory fee.”
Pietro scoffed. “We’re lucky we’re on this side of the line.”
“This is still a biker town, brother,” Wanda reminded him. “We don’t know much about the 107 but at least they don’t bother us. Sometimes I see them riding the streets or getting into it with the Hydra club near the border. I just try to stay out of whatever they’re doing. Doesn’t matter what side of the war you’re on, there’s always collateral damage."
Growing up in Sokovia, the twins would know that better than anyone. They moved from one war zone to another – though this one operated under intimidation and thinly vailed threats as opposed to open warfare and bombings in the streets.
All you knew of the 107 was that four of Hydra’s men ended up in the hospital as a result of a brawl that took place a year ago near the border. At the time, you’d felt an ounce of satisfaction to know Hydra had taken a hit, but it was quickly displaced with the knowledge that cutting off one head only allowed another to grow.
You didn’t care whether the 107 were the enemy of your enemy. They were all the same as far as you were concerned. Just as bloody and violent. Just as vindictive and manipulative. You’d heard rumors they charged protection fees for the businesses that fell under their territory lines. Little more than extortion disguised under a kinder name.
The bell at the front door chimed and it came as a relief. Pietro reached across the table and squeezed your hand lightly before he left to help the new customer. Wanda watched him for a moment, smoothing out the edge of her apron and the fraying stitching of her mother’s name on the left side of her chest.
“What will you do?” she asked gently.
You held the tea cup between your hands, allowing the warmth to coat into your palms. “What I have to.”
Pay Hydra your dues. Stay under their thumb. Do as they ask, when they ask. Survive. Keep your parents’ shop at all costs.
“You know our door is always open for you,” Wanda said. She offered a small smile, a sadness lingering in her eyes as she glanced the tea you had yet to take a sip from. “Hydra shouldn’t cross the border this far into 107 territory. You’re safe here.”
You pressed out a smile in return, telling her your thanks. You took a few sips from the lukewarm cup before you slid a few dollars in the pocket of her apron despite her protests. She meant well, but at the end of the day, you both knew that no matter how bad things got with Hydra, you would never abandon the last thread you had to your parents.
And the truth was, with Hydra looming over your shoulder – you wouldn’t be safe anywhere.
After you left the Maximoffs’ café, the sun had already begun to set. It would be a brisk walk to make it home before nightfall, but you figured the fresh air would do you good. You didn’t get out as often as you used to since you took over May Flowers and your weekly trips to visit Wanda and Pietro were about the extent of your socialization these days. Still, it was something, and not even Ms. Leary could fault you for that.
Your walk through the east side of town often felt like a living memory. On your right, you passed by the donut shop your father had often frequented, bartering with the baker to give his chocolate glaze a little extra on the top before he slipped a few extra dollars in the tip jar. A few minutes later, you saw the front entrance to the park where he proposed to your mother. They’d been surrounded in a garden full of purple lilacs at the time right in the early months of summer. It was your favorite spot to picnic as a child, because they’d tell you the story of how he proposed and sometimes – when you were extra good – he might reenact it for you.
You passed by the salon where you’d gotten your hair cut since you were a child and the local library where your mother had dropped you off for day care. You stepped over the pothole in the sidewalk where you’d cut open your knee when you learned how to ride a bike and touched the dent in the stop sign on the street corner when you learned to drive. This side of town carried so much history for your family.
It was better than passing the bank who had refused to give your father a loan before they foreclosed on the flower shop and forced his hand. The lamppost where he had met with Alexander Pierce under the cover of night and arranged for the deal that left you chained to Hydra’s demands. The alley where he’d been assaulted for failing to make a payment on time. Part of you wondered if drops of his blood were still visible amongst the pebbles but you were too afraid to look.
The only decent thing about the west side of the town was the flower shop. Everything else was just another reminder of what Hydra could do to you if you didn’t come up with their money. It was why you tried to escape to the Maximoffs’ when you could. It reminded you that you weren’t as alone as you often felt.
On your left, you walked past the entrance to the Centenarian – a local bar known for its long hours and the rows of expensive bikes parked outside. Even from the sidewalk, you could hear the low hum of Billy Joel playing on the jukebox and the off-key singing echoing inside as a couple danced behind the open window to Paino Man. It smelled of stale beer and even the sidewalk felt sticky under your shoes as you quickly passed by.
You had half a mind to wander in yourself. It had been years since you let yourself enjoy a decent night out – even if it was hunched over the end of a bar with a lone whiskey and quietly observing the people around you. But the sun was setting quickly – oranges and red coating the horizon in its wake – and you knew better than to be out on the streets after dark with the Hydra club patrolling around with liquor in their veins.
It also wasn’t lost on you that the Centenarian could be home to the 107. There were too many bikes parked out front for it to be anything less – but there was something inviting about the laughter that carried down to the sidewalk and the off pitch singing to Billy Joel that made you wonder if maybe you were wrong. Men like the 107 and Hydra wouldn’t dance with their partners in open windows or sing in public. You didn’t even think they had the capacity for it. The very thought of a man like Brock Rumlow wearing anything close to a genuine smile, twirling a woman in his arms for the sake of her laughter instead of his grimy hands snaking down her spine made you shudder.
You ran your fingers along the gold watch on your wrist. It was loose on your arm, with a few too many chains left in the band from when your father wore it. It had been a gift from your mother for his fortieth birthday. He wore it religiously – didn't even take it off when he was working, leaving behind small specks of soil in the creases. Gave it character, he liked to say. You wore it now to hold onto those pieces of him, comforting you when you needed him most.
You approached a small circle of light hanging under a street lamp, vaguely considering whether the spaghetti in your fridge was still mildly passable for consumption, when you felt hand snake around your wrist.
Panic jolted inside you, the instinct to scream smothered by the low chuckle of the voice behind you. He yanked on your arm, spinning you to face him – tugging you back into the shadows.
The first thing you noticed was that there was no skull and tentacled beast patched on the back of a motorcycle jacket. His face was not one you recognized. He reeked of rum as he dug his nails into your wrist. You weren't sure which was worse – the pinch of his nails to your skin or the putrid smell of his breath. He swayed as he leaned in closer to you.
“You’re a pretty thing,” the man slurred, his breath hot against your neck as you tried to inch your way out of his grip – but it was too familiar, a game you’d played dozens of times before. Cat and mouse. Hunter and prey.
When you looked at him again, he wore Jack Rollin’s dark features – the strong cut of his jawline and the cold, dead look in his eyes. It froze you – your stomach plummeting – because you were still on the east side. Hydra shouldn’t be able to cross without serious consequences from the 107, right? That had to be true. You were certain it was true.
But then you blinked again and Rollins’ face morphed back to the stumbling stranger with the flush of alcohol heavy in his cheeks. The panic from the previous night was still itching in your veins. Messing with you. Playing with you. It lingered and followed you wherever you went and even a trip to the east side to visit your friends could not allow you even a moment of reprieve.
“Let me go,” you warned, tugging at your wrist as you shot a desperate glance to the end of the sidewalk. Nothing appeared in the horizon – no one walking alone in the evening. This town knew better than that.
You wondered briefly if this man was part of the 107. He had no distinguishing features, no emblems on a jacket or tattoos of loyalty. You knew Hydra prided themselves in striking fear with the simple glance to the symbol on their backs and you didn’t suspect the 107 to be any different.
This man was just a drunk; an arrogant drunk who stubbled his way into your path and felt himself entitled to lay his grimy hands on you. But a drunk that held a vice grip on your wrist nonetheless.
“Shhh,” his breath traveled along your jawline.
You stilled yourself – holding your breath as his nose brushed along the side of your neck. He was practically incoherent and the stench of rum burned in your nose the closer he leaned into you. You knew he was a stranger – nothing more than an intoxicated man on the street – but you could smell Rollins’ cologne, could even smell the leather of a jacket that was certainly across the town border. It wouldn’t leave you alone. You squeezed your eyes shut.
Maybe if this had happened years ago – back when you still carried an ounce of strength in your bones and the weight of Hydra’s debt didn’t drag against your ankles in heavy, metal chains – maybe, you would have fought back. You would have swiped a closed fist to the side of his face and knocked him down to the dirt where he belonged.
But you’d learned to stay quiet. You learned to be still and let it pass – because it always did. You’d seen the consequences when you didn’t. The scar on the left side of your father’s temple was evidenced enough. It had matched the edge of a ring worn on Rumlow’s right hand.
It would pass. It would pass.
And then suddenly, as if the universe itself had bent to your will, the man was gone.
The open breeze brushed against your wrist, leaving behind a chill against the skin, and you no longer felt dizzy under the stench of alcohol. You heard the man grunt as he collided with the ground, a low grumbling as he shuffled along the sidewalk. A second set of footsteps approached.
It will pass, you told yourself again as you kept your eyes closed – the same way that Rollins always left at the end of the night and Rumlow took his cash. The line was never crossed. It was only ever about fear. Perhaps, if you dared to open your eyes again, you would be in your flower shop on the west side and the hum of engines would ignite in the distance – steadily fading into the night until nothing was left but the gentle coat of silence. Maybe, you wouldn’t be standing in the middle of an empty street alone after dark in a dangerous town.
A hand touched your shoulder – feather light, hesitant – and you flinched. Your eyes shot open; fists clenched as you readied to defend yourself, as foolish as it felt. You knew the drunk was twice your size, but you’d learned how to steel yourself against men like Rumlow and Rollins despite the terror they induced, so you’d go down with a fighting breath in front of this man, too.
But the drunk was no longer standing in front of you, invading your space. Instead, you were met with the calming surrender of startling blue eyes.
Bluer than the delphiniums lined along the outside of your shop – the very same ones your mother had stopped by every morning to touch a gentle fingertip to the petals and take in their scent; quite literally stopping to smell the flowers because she was the sort of woman to take stalk in the smallest moments of joy.
Bluer than the empty sky you’d woken to that morning – calm and gentle as it coaxed you away from the viced grip on your sheets, the sweat stained on your back, and the heavy locks on your doors. Kind on the horizon. Vast. Limitless.
Bluer than the lake behind your grandfather’s cabin as the sun touched the crests just before it reached its peak in the sky.
Blue. Blue. Blue.
It took a moment before you even allowed yourself to venture beyond his eyes to the bristle of stubble along his cheeks and the short wisps of brunette hair brushed back away from his face. He had lines along the side of his eyes – laugh lines, you realized, that must have taken years' worth of joy to produce.
Blue-eyes held his hands up in the air, taking a slow step back as he noticed the tension in your stance. “Are you alright, miss?”
You stared at him; jaw clenched. Your heart was racing too badly to reply, fingers numb under the rush of adrenaline, but you offered him a short nod.
He exhaled in what seemed to be relief, stealing a glance back in the direction of The Centenarian. Piano Man was still playing through the speakers and you realized that the entire encounter had taken place in less than three minutes. It had felt like hours.
“We cut him off an hour ago but I guess he stumbled into a liquor store anyway,” Blue-eyes said, his voice lower than you expected. “He won’t see a drop of our alcohol again, I promise you.”
You swallowed, following his gaze back to the bar. His eyes carried such heaviness – a strange mixture of anger and disappointment you couldn’t quite place.
“You work at the Centenarian?” you asked slowly, regaining your voice.
He smiled at that, his head hung low so you could not see his eyes or the way the lines pressed lightly around them, but still – you could see the faintest traces of a pleasant memory. “Something like that.”
You had half a mind to ask him if it was true about the bar – that it served as the meeting spot for the 107, Hydra’s counterpart on the east side – but you bit your tongue instead. He’d done you a favor by chasing off the drunken man before he’d done any real damage and you weren’t going to repay his kindness by accusing him of working for a bunch of low life criminals.
“It’s getting dark. I should probably get home,” you murmured rather reluctantly, stealing a glance down the open sidewalk. The sun had fallen behind the horizon, leaving only a trail of darkness behind. Stars peppered in the sky, but the shadows hung heavy over the sidewalks on your journey back. At least your shop was close to the border. You’d rather face a run-in with the 107 than Hydra any day. The 107 wouldn't recognize your face, wouldn’t operate under the knowledge that they owned you down to the last penny in your register, and somehow, that was the kinder option.
“Let me walk you,” Blue-eyes offered. His gaze trailed over you, though it wasn’t in the hungry, demoralizing glare that men like Jack Rollins’ carried. It was almost a kindness – a quiet observation for a sign to step back, to put space between you if he crossed an unwanted line. “The streets aren’t always safe when the sun goes down. Could be a lot worse than running into handsy drunks.”
You swallowed, nodding slowly. You were well aware and it didn’t seem as though he took any pride in reminding you. If anything, there was a dangerous sort of anger pressed into his features – a sharp clench of his jaw, his hands taunt into fists. Almost as if he carried the responsibility himself.
“I’m not far,” you told him as he stepped in line with you. “I live above the flower shop on Culver.”
He paused, a slight waver of hesitation in his stance. “May Flowers? On the west side? It’s yours?”
You were surprised he knew of your shop considering the black combat boots and tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of his t-shirt. You were certain you would have recognized a face like his if he’d ever shown up in your shop – standing out in rugged contrast to the delicacy of brightly colored flowers and plants inside – but something about his expression was painted in familiarity. You nodded.
But then his jaw clenched, his gaze fixated on the end of the sidewalk. Something like reluctance holding him back.
“It’s only a few minutes from here. I can manage on my own,” you said despite the nerves inching their way back up your spine. You barely knew this man – didn't even know his name – and still, something about this stranger felt safer than the terrifying alternative of being alone. But you’d handled worse before – you'd stool in front of men like Rollins and Rumlow and survived. You could manage another six blocks.
Blue-eyes took another cautious glance back at the Centenarian before his shoulders slumped. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a string of keys. Before you could ask him what he was doing, he unclipped a plastic charm and shoved the keys back into his pockets.
“Take this,” he offered, extending the keychain to you.
You stared blankly at it until he gestured patiently for your hand – never reaching for it before you could offer it yourself. You placed your hand into his, the calloused touch of his palms coaxing against your fingers – rough and labored through the years, a story within the palms of his hands. You shivered as you watched him slide the plastic keychain along your fingers, your pointer and middle finger fitting securely in the openings. He closed your hand around the keychain, leaving two sharp edges piercing through the center of your closed fist.
“You won’t hurt yourself on it,” he told you, tapping his finger on the edge of the plastic, “but if anyone comes at you, this will do some damage if you swing at ‘em.”
You turned your fist in your hand, testing out the motion as Blue-eyes stepped back to give you the space. His arms folded over his chest, a smile brimming upon his lips as he watched you. You found as you clutched the keychain in your grip, that the nerves slipped from their viced grip in your muscle, the panic easing its way from your bloodstream.
You felt the warm ache of a smile against your cheeks. “How can I return it to you?”
“It’s yours,” he replied with a quick shake of his head.
You nodded, biting at the edge of your lip as you played with the sharp edge of the plastic. “Thank you. For this and... for coming to my rescue.”
He shrugged, a teasing grin brightening his features. “You had him on the ropes.”
“Right,” you laughed, surprised to find it possible in your voice. You stole a reluctant took down the sidewalk. “I suppose I should head home now.”
“Yeah,” Blue-eyes sighed, sinking his hands to his pockets. “Get back safe, okay?”
You gave him one last smile, trying not to focus on the way his brow wrinkled at the center or how the edge of his lip was scarred as his teeth bit into the fullest part. As you faced the west side, inching towards the border, you could feel his gaze on you and a shiver crawled up your spine.
It was only after you’d crossed the border into the west that you dared a glance over your shoulder. The Centenarian was long out of view and so was the blue-eyed stranger. You clutched his keychain a little tighter, picking up you pace until you spotted the dark, overhanging sign of your parents’ flower shop.
It wouldn’t be until you finally locked the door behind you that you realized you never learned Blue-eyes' name. A sliver of disappointment sank into your stomach as slid the keychain around the metal loop with your apartment keys. You peered out the window, looking back to the east side of the city, wondering if maybe you might run into the stranger again.
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