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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 2 years

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shards of glass

Twenty-Nine of Thirty-One

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Prompt: "is that vodka? at seven in the morning?”

Summary: bucky is completing his amends list for his time as the winter soldier. you’re a former black widow agent, freed from the red room’s control by yelena belova. you were once assigned to work with him in the past, and now, he’s tracked you down in order to find closure.

Warnings: smut, vaginal sex, violence, mentions of brainwashing (winter soldier and red room programming), choking, blood, breathplay,

Word Count: 3,199

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A/N: inspired by this scene from The 355.

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“Is that vodka?”

You closed your eyes and sighed, the glass halfway to your lips.

“At seven in the morning?”

Setting the bottle back on the bar, you took a sip of your drink before turning around and heading for the couch in the middle of your apartment. It wasn’t until you had made yourself comfortable, tucking your legs under yourself and reclining back against the back of the sofa that you turned your attention to the man standing at the top of the stairs on the far side of the room.

“I don’t remember you being so judgmental, Soldier.” you said coolly, taking another sip of your drink. The ice clinked quietly against the glass, condensation dripping onto your fingers. “I have ten men outside.”

“You had ten men outside.” he corrected you, metal hand tucked into his jacket pocket as he strode almost casually towards you. The same part of you that had scanned him for weapons as you’d sat down noted this, and you wondered idly if that was supposed to be a way of reassuring you, the way holding up a gun and removing the clip would. It didn’t work. “Just you and me now.”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “I don’t know why I bother. Honestly, the prices these people charge, you’d think they’d actually be useful.”

“Since when do you travel with an entourage?” he asked, stopping on the other side of the coffee table in front of you. His stance was relaxed, but you’d spent enough time with him – or some version of him – to know just how fast his reaction time was. “I never took you for the kind to enjoy other people’s company.”

“Since I caught wind that you were taking this little victory tour of yours,” you replied, almost snide. You finished your drink, leaning forward to place the empty glass on the table. “And I didn’t exactly hire them for their conversation skills.”

“Why did you hire them at all? You’ve never needed the backup.”

You shrugged a shoulder. “You’re not the only one who made a career change, Soldier.”

“It’s Bucky.”

“Of course it is.” you said drily, and a ghost of a smile crossed his features. Despite your almost cavalier attitude, your gaze didn’t waver, monitoring every shift in his stance and every flicker in his expression. “How did you find me?”

“Wasn’t easy,” he answered evasively. “Wasn’t expecting to find you here, though.’

“That was the point.” you waved a hand towards the window. “Is it safe to assume your feathered friend is lurking somewhere outside?”

“I came alone.”

You arched a brow. “That was either an incredibly self-assured decision or—”

“What happened…” Bucky cleared his throat, ducking his head for a moment. “My past has nothing to do with him.”

“It has nothing to do with me, either.” you said pettily. “In case you haven’t heard, I wasn’t exactly in control of my choices when we met.”

“I did. I’m—”

Bucky looked down with a sigh, and you immediately reached for the nine-millimeter handgun tucked in the couch cushions behind you. He moved just as quickly, bending down and taking hold of the edge of the coffee table between the two of you. He flung it to the side to crack and break against the wall, your shot glancing off of his prosthetic shoulder.

Bucky closed the distance between you, his metal hand taking hold of your wrist and forcing your aim towards the ceiling, his other hand closing around your throat. His knee was between your legs, bent to rest on the couch cushion, and you smirked up at him, loosening your grip on the weapon obediently. It fell harmlessly onto the cushion beside you.

“Apologies are boring, Soldier,” you told him with limited breath, meeting his eye unwaveringly. His face was only inches above yours, his jaw tightening reflexively and his gaze hard. A thrill ran through you despite yourself, and you ignored it, holding up your free hand in mock-surrender. “If you’re going to arrest me, I suggest you save your breath.”

“You’ve gotten slow, Y/N.”

Your eyebrow flicked upward for a second, but you didn’t comment on the fact that he’d learnt your name since leaving HYDRA. You had to guess he’d heard it from Romanoff before her death, or from Belova now that she was apparently following in her “sister’s” footsteps. After all, tracking down one of the many nameless Black Widow agents had to be made ever so slightly easier if you knew their names.

When you didn’t respond, he spoke again, his fingers flexing around your throat.

“…You were testing me.”

“I was curious.” you replied. “Turns out the programming isn’t so easy to forget, is it, Soldier?”

Bucky swallowed his anger, but he didn’t release you. Instead, he took an almost steadying breath.

“I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James ‘Bucky’ Barnes…” his words sounded rehearsed; his breath warm on your face. You shifted beneath him, your lips parting. Bucky’s gaze dropped for a moment, and his next breath shook slightly as he met your gaze again. “…And you’re part of my efforts to make amends.”

“Lucky me.”

Your free hand shot up, but instead of breaking his grip on your throat you grasped the lapel of his jacket and pulled him down towards you and met his lips fiercely with your own.

You felt him stiffen in surprise before he responded, pinning your wrist back against the couch as he returned the kiss. The almost surprising softness of his lips was betrayed by the sudden hunger in the embrace, his teeth grazing your lip and his tongue sliding against yours.

Between his mouth on yours and his hand still wrapped around your throat, you could feel your head quickly growing light, and you bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He hissed at the spark of pain as he pulled back, and you smirked at his reaction, almost surprised by the desire twisting through your chest.

His gaze was dark as he met your eye, pupils blown wide with desire even as that ever-present wariness marred his features. Bucky’s hand relaxed around your throat slowly as his chest rose with a steadying breath, his eyes burning into yours as he tried to decipher your expression.

“Fuck it.”

His lips met yours again roughly, his hand releasing your wrist and grabbing the gun from where it had fallen to the couch. You heard him remove the clip without breaking away from you, tossing them both to the other side of the room before his hands were grasping at your arms. You took his face in your hands, fingers clutching at the hard line of his jaw and the side of his throat. Pushing him off of you, you straddled his thighs as his back met the cushions, his hands taking an achingly firm hold of your waist.

You grinned against his lips as you felt him slide the concealed blade out of your beltline and heard the dull thud of it being buried in the wood of the coffee table against the wall as he flung it aside as well. You could taste the metallic tang of his blood on his tongue as you kissed him, your fingers grasping tightly at the hair at the back of his head.

You shoved his jacket down his arms and tossed it over the back of the couch as he shrugged it off, fingers bunching in his shirt. Your nails grazed his chest through the fabric, and you rolled your hips over his as you felt his hands retake your waist. He groaned against your mouth, and you felt a shiver run up your spine as his hands slipped underneath your shirt. The heat of one hand and the iciness of the other were an agonizing contrast against the small of your back, and he broke away from your lips to take an almost desperate breath. His forehead fell against your cheek, his lips brushing over the edge of your jaw and down the side of your throat. His teeth grazed your pulse point and you groaned, eyes rolling back.

You jerked his head back with the hand still in his hair, smirking as he grunted in response. There was a hint of a grin playing on the edge of his expression as he met your eye, and you held his gaze, face hovering over his as you ground down against him again.

A soft, drawn-out moan escaped him as you did, his jaw tightening and his eyes dark. You could feel him hardening beneath you, his hands sliding down to clutch possessively at your thighs.

“This isn’t exactly how I saw this going…”

You rolled your eyes, reaching between you to palm him through his pants, your smirk widening as his breath caught. “I think I liked it better when you didn’t talk so much, tovarisch.”

Cruel, maybe, but you weren’t friends, and you’d learned decades ago that there was no point in taking the feelings of others into account when you wanted something. It was easier to just take it; and the measure of his breath, the way he grasped at the flesh of your thighs… he wasn’t going to object.

Besides, what was to offend? You barely had a past between the two of you… not one where either of you had had a choice in the matter. He’d been so deep under his programming; you were surprised he remembered you at all.

Bucky groaned as you stroked him through his pants, and he kissed you again, muffling the sound against your lips. His hands fumbled blindly for a moment with the front of your shirt before their grip tightened, buttons and thread popping as he tore it open.

His hands slid over your waist and down around your thighs, and you grasped at his shoulders as he stood. Wrapping your legs around him as he carried you across the room, your skirt bunching up around your hips. You broke away from his lips as your back met the wall hard enough to make your breath catch.

Bucky’s grip on your thighs was tight enough to bruise, and his lips caught your jaw, his teeth grazing over the side of your throat. You unbuckled his belt, whining as you reached into his pants and wrapped your fingers around his erection, his teeth digging into the sensitive skin of your collarbone.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, jerking his head back and kissing him hard, thrilling at the way his breath caught against your lips as you lowered yourself onto his cock. He broke away to meet your eye, an almost bewildered look in his eye, his gaze burning into yours as you began to rise and fall on his cock.

Taken aback by the heat in his eyes, you forced his face back to your throat, arching your neck to the side as he obediently ran his tongue along the side of it. His left hand came up to clutch at your breast through your bra, fingers digging into the flesh of it as he pulled the cup down and pinched your nipple. You moaned as he thrust up into you, hands bunching in his shirt. He broke away long enough to pull it off, and he hissed as you immediately took hold of his biceps, your nails scoring along his arms.

“Fuck…”

“Harder,” you urged, cursing as he sunk his teeth into the swell of your breast before sliding his tongue over the mark he left behind. You reached back blindly, clutching at the wall for some kind of leverage as he fucked himself into you. Reaching up, your fingers curled around the cold metal of the lighting sconce above, and you took hold of it, lifting yourself up and lowering yourself again just as he thrust back into you.

Bucky moaned aloud against your skin, his hand leaving your breast to instead wrap around your throat. The cold metal tightened enough to make your eyes roll back, and you felt his teeth graze the edge of your jaw before his lips were on yours again and his tongue was in your mouth.

The sconce groaned under your grip, the light flickering as the metal bent. You could feel an ache from the way he filled you, your other arm around his neck. It wasn’t until you could feel your lungs begin to burn that Bucky allowed you to breathe, and even then, he barely gave you a moment to take a single, gasping breath before his hand tightened again, his forehead pressed against yours.

You could feel the heat of his breath on your face, feel his other hand clutch at your ass. Your hand curled tightly around his wrist, the vibranium cold and unyielding under your palm as you rode him as best you could against the wall. The sound of flesh meeting flesh was joined by his breathless groan, the broken, strangled moan that escaped you as he angled his hips and slid deeper into you.

“F-uc—” you barely managed to grind out, eyes squeezed shut as you felt him suck a mark into the skin just below the corner of your jaw. You could feel his answering grin, his lips finding yours again hungrily as his hand left your throat to slip between your legs.

You moaned into his mouth as his hand found your clit, a shower of drywall raining down on the two of you as your grip tightened and you ripped the sconce from the wall. Sparks fired above you as you threw the twisted metal aside with a clang, and Bucky stumbled back instinctively, his hands retaking your waist.

His knees hit the couch and you pushed your weight forward, the two of you cursing as he fell back onto the couch with you in his lap. Unwrapping your legs from around him, you pushed yourself up onto your knees, pinning his shoulders back against the couch with your hands as you lowered yourself onto him again.

Bucky cursed again, his jaw tight as you rode him, his hand moving between your legs again to roll his fingers against your clit as his left hand took hold of your ass. He clutched at the flesh of it painfully, encouraging you to grind your hips over his as you bounced on his cock, his other hand circling fingers over your clit.

“Shit…” you let your head fall back, eyes closing as you felt yourself tighten around him, and you came with a broken moan as you felt his teeth graze your nipple. You grasped at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as his tongue slid against your breast, and he grunted against your flesh as they drew blood.

He grabbed hold of you again, turning, laying you out on the sofa and thrusting into you in one smooth motion. You moaned as he did, letting him guide your leg up to wrap around his waist again and spread yourself wider to him. You could feel your thighs tremble, slick with your own excitement, and you clutched at the sofa cushions as you arched up underneath him, so hard that you heard the fabric tear.

“Y/N…”

He muttered your name far too intimately, the animal need in his voice betrayed by something softer; that almost-familiarity he’d used before. You felt his fingers smooth over the side of your neck and up to your cheek, urging you to meet his eye again.

Knocking his hand away with your own, you squeezed his hips with your knees and rolled the two of you off the couch. Bucky’s breath left him in a huff, and an almost exasperated laugh caught in his throat as you fucked yourself onto him again. His hands took hold of your hips, and he moaned as you rolled your hips over his. Your head fell back, hair falling over your shoulder and your hands sliding up over your ribs to your chest.

“Fuck…” his voice came as a rough, husky growl through gritted teeth as his hands moved down to clutch at your thighs. One hand dipped lower, his thumb circling your clit furiously. You echoed the sentiment with a moan, body arching as you tightened around him. Your shirt was hanging off your shoulders, your skirt bunched up around your hips. The carpet burned your knees, your nails digging into his chest as you leaned over him, your breath catching brokenly as he thrust up into you. “Fuck, I’m—”

He pressed down on your clit and thrust hard up into you, and the two of you came together, a hoarse moan escaping you as your eyes rolled back. Bucky arched up towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist to spread his hands over the small of your back, catching on your shirt for a moment. His forehead bumped against your sternum, and you felt his breath tickle your breast for a moment, his lips brushing over your skin absently.

You sighed as you caught your breath, brushing your hair out of your face as you straightened. Shrugging your shirt back onto your shoulders, you straightened it or a moment before realizing it was pointless without the buttons. Tugging the cup of your bra back into place, you pushed Bucky back onto the carpet and stood carefully, rearranging your skirt back down over your thighs.

He rubbed his hand over his chest as he pushed himself up onto his elbow, watching you impassively. “What’re you—”

“Well…” You pushed your hair back over your shoulder, running your hand through it to remove the tangle. Collecting your coat from wear you’d left it thrown over the railings by the stairs, and pulled it on. “I don’t think I’ll be getting my security deposit back on the apartment, tovarisch. Make sure to let the doorman know to call the landlord on the way out.”

Bucky sat up, tucking himself back into his jeans and buckling his belt. “Are you—”

“I told you, Soldier. I’m not going to be arrested by the likes of you.” you told him coolly, buttoning your coat up over your ruined shirt. “I’m not interested in soothing your wounded soul by spending the next few decades of my life locked away in an American prison.”

A crease formed in his brows. “I wasn’t going to—”

“Do your job?” you finished pointedly. “I heard about your deal with the American government.”

“You don’t have to spend your life running from your past,” he said softly. “You could cut a deal.”

You breathed a derisive laugh. “Like you? Like Romanoff?”

“You could do it.”

“And live on another organization’s leash?” you pulled the blade out of the coffee table, tucking it back into your belt line. “I’ll pass.”

“Y/N…”

“This was fun, Soldier,” you said blithely, moving to the window as he finally stood. You sat on the ledge, glancing back at him with a small, playful smirk before swinging your legs over onto the fire escape. “And I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

tags: @dragon-chica @glossyloner @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @lovely-dreamer19 @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @absolutly-me @sara--ravenclaw @startrekkingaroundasgard

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galacticwildfire · 1 year

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Memories | Bucky Barnes

Ten

Bucky Barnes x blackwidow!oc

Word count 5.7k

Tags: absolute angst in the first half and pure violence in the last

A/N: hey guys, I've decided to go back and keep writing their story in the forties until the end because my later chapters get a bit confusing with the flashbacks to make things make sense so I'm removing those to make full chapters out of them, so I'll update the masterlist appropriately

Looking into those blue eyes all I feel is pure shock, disbelief, and my fingers stretch down to feel the blade tucked in the garter beneath my skirt, immediately jumping to the only logical conclusion that this can't be real, but the look in his eyes as he takes me in can't be faked.

It's him.

"Excuse me, I have special orders to brief the diplomat and search him before taking him to the general," I say to the guard, trying to keep my voice from wavering. "Can you inform the general I will be another five minutes."

He is hesitant, and I know that hesitance means I have only minutes before further security comes, but he nods and goes to do what I ask. Finally alone in the windowless room I shut the door behind me, my weight against it as I look at him, wishing this was some sick dream but here he is, and he has no idea what he's walked into.

"You're fucking crazy," I breathe, my accent thick from having been in Russia for months now. "They'll kill you."

"You won't let them," he says and it's then I realise he's not here by some mistake. He is here in the place of a man I was meant to kill, the army would only send in someone I knew for one purpose, to take me out.

"They sent you here to kill me," I breathe in pure disbelief, for the first time the Americans being one step ahead.

"They sent Peggy here to kill you," he corrects and my eyes widen. "She's the one who swapped me out with the man you were assigned to kill."

"They knew," I realise, unaware they had any intelligence on me. "They knew I'd be the one to do it."

"You can't blame them for guessing it would be the NKVD's top agent that would do it," he tells me and my skin crawls as I realise he knows. "Just like the others."

He knew what I was when he fell in love with me, or at least parts, but now- now he sees what I am, and yet there's no disgust in his eyes, only pain.

"You didn't come all this way to warn me," I say stiffly, shaking my head at him as he steps towards me. "And I know you didn't come to kill me as much as you might want to."

He should be my enemy, I betrayed him, and yet I can't help how my body melts as he reaches for me, and the touch of his hand on my cheek is enough to make me unravel. After all the pain, after all the torture, he's here.

"I wanted to when I woke up and you were gone," he tells me, his voice rough. "I've spent months trying to hate you, trying to forget you." His thumb runs over my lips, his touch stronger than any drug Hydra's shot into my veins, or any torture forced upon me by the Red Room. "Wondering if any of it was ever real."

That's when long buried tears finally surface and burn in my eyes as I grit out "You know it was real."

"How can I?" he asks me and that's when I reach for him, hand coming to hold his stubbled cheek and I watch his eyes change, I watch him break under my touch just as I do his.

"Because you're here," I say, my voice strained and tears burn in his eyes, tears he desperately tries to force back. "Because you're mad enough to come here to do what? If you aren't here to kill me-"

"You're coming home," he tells me and the moment I open my mouth to protest he orders "Whether you want to or not."

I search his eyes and see it, hesitance, I notice how his hand brushes his jacket pocket, just enough to feel, just enough to check and before he can even think to move I've grabbed the syringe and pushed him off, leaving him staring at me in shock as I hold it away from him and scoff at the audacity.

"Tell me, did you specially request Howard make this as some sick poetic justice or was it just a coincidence?"

"Ada," he warns, holding a hand out, as if he could convince me to give it back. "I didn't know if it would be you walking into this room or something else."

"So it was for safety?" I ask him, seeing through the bullshit and he's lost for words as he struggles to defend himself. "Threatening me was your first mistake, and the second was thinking you can outsmart me when it comes to this shit."

"Ada-" he protests as I crush it in my hand, broken glass nicking my palm and there's blood mixed with the serum as I throw the remnants to the floor, trembling with a new sort of rage.

"This was your plan?" I can't help the betrayal I feel. "To give me no choice."

"Like you gave me one?" he argues, and the hurt, the anger in his voice is the same as the day I left him. "You have no right to be mad after what you did."

Now he can't forge a defence he goes for the attack, just as I do. "I have every right to be fucking furious at you right now for putting yourself literally in the shoes of a dead man." Yet he still doesn't see the issue. "You are Captain America's best friend, do you think no one recognised you!"

"Yeah will that's a risk I'm willing to take to bring you back," he says and in horror I realise that was his plan all along, to be recognised, to leave me no choice.

"I can't go back," I grit out, terrified.

"Why?"

"My sister," I remind him and he looks at the portrait of Stalin on the wall and back to me. "I can't leave her."

"Then we'll bring her," he promises me. "Where is she?"

"I-" I swallow hard, the conditioning, the torture- all of it so I would never desert them again. "It isn't that simple, and you were sent here to kill me, what makes you think all will be forgiven?"

"We can clear your name, say you were acting as a double agent. If you give the government something they'll believe it. Peggy's got your back and so does the team." He steps towards me, forcing himself to put his anger aside and I see the man I fought beside in the field, if not the man I love, the Sergeant I trusted. "You know I've got your back."

But something in me, some physiological response in my brain tries to pull back from him, only to be trapped between him and the door "You need to go- go before they kill you-"

"No," he says, grabbing my hands and pinning them to the door to keep me in place. "I saw the tapes, I saw what they're doing to you, saw them torturing you." Tears threaten to spill, but he still doesn't understand. "Let me bring you home."

"I've killed too many people to go back to being a good guy," I tell him, voice weak. "The girl you came back for... she's a lost cause."

He looks at me, taking me in, almost as if I'm a stranger. "Maybe you're right, because the girl I loved wasn't a coward."

It's the look in his eyes that pains me and I blink at him, utterly taken aback. "Is that all you're going to say?"

"What do you want me to say?" he asks and fighting tears seems to be the hardest thing I've done since I left him.

"That you don't regret this," I breathe, trembling. "That the one person who believes I'm not a monster still believes I'm worth saving."

He looks at me in pure exasperation and takes my face in his hands, voice low "Why else would I be here?"

I open my mouth only for him to capture it with his, a rough kiss filled with pure desperation, just jarring enough I finally feel real and when he breaks away I breathe his name "James-"

It's then fists bang on the door and I gasp out as I feel it ricochet through my body and I look at him in pure horror, in absolute fear, but his eyes just plead with me. "Lina, please."

I look at him, at the man I love, knowing he's left me with no choice and I whisper "I'm sorry."

He recoils as I punch him in the face, his nose bleeding as I grab him and pull the gun he has concealed beneath his jacket to his head before I open the door, and half a dozen guards stand there with hands on their guns.

"He came armed," I tell them, his bloody nose enough for them to believe what was happening behind the door was a beating. "Now, will you move so I can take him to the general." They don't move and my voice becomes harsh, akin to my mothers. "If there is a problem I will gladly report to Stalin himself that members of his police are interfering with the Red Widow completing his orders."

With that they step aside, too afraid to dare risk Stalin's wrath or mine, and I lead Bucky down the hall, gun to his head. I can feel the hesitation in his step as I have to push him and grab his arm, silently letting my hand fall down to his hand and squeezing it tight, letting him know he's safe with me and he goes along with the ruse.

No one else dares question me as I bring him through the halls, aiming to make it to the bottom floor and take him out the back doors that we take men destined for the gulags through to avoid suspicion, knowing this is the most high risk mission I've ever undertaken. We make it down to the third floor, cautiously optimistic as we head for the second last flight of stairs only to be stopped by the person I least want to see.

She stops and stands there expectantly. "Daughter."

I can physically feel the double take Bucky does. "Mama."

She tilts her head "Sergeant Barnes, I don't believe my daughter has introduced me to her not so secret lover."

Shit.

"The General has ordered me to transport him," I lie, but she sees through it and seems disappointed.

"Traitor," she says, so heartlessly. "A traitorous fool in love with a man blind enough to think he could ever make you into anything other than a monster. Just like your father." It's then she digs the knife deep. "At least you won't have the misfortune of becoming pregnant as I did."

Bucky instinctively ducks out of the way as I fire and she stumbles backwards, bullet in the shoulder before I can even comprehend what I've done and all I see is red "Where is Katya?"

"Gone."

I fire another bullet, this time into her leg, trembling with rage and feel Bucky's hand on my arm. "We need to go."

"My sister isn't dead-"

"No, but she's gone," she answers, confirming my worst fears and catch our reflection in the glass of Stalin's portrait hanging on the wall to see three widows silently creeping up behind me and in a split second the hidden knife beneath my skirt cuts the widows throat behind me and her pistol is in my hand, the two widows behind her shot dead in an instant. I grab Bucky's wrist, pressing a pistol into his hand just as the NKVD round the corner behind my mother and I grab by the hair, twisting her into a headlock with a gun to her head to hold their fire as we step backwards towards the corner.

"Traitor," she breathes in Russian. "They will see what you are."

"You mean what you made me?" I grit out, throwing her into the wall the second she reaches for her own concealed blade, only just dodging the bullets as we run around the corner, him following my lead through the building and I ask "Where's Peggy!"

"No doubt better off than us," he answers as we run, chased by the NKVD and I can't argue with his assessment. "So that's your mom huh?"

"Do you see I am the way I am now?" I reply as I rush for the next corner only for him to quickly yank me back at the sound of bullets. "Shit."

"Shit," he agrees as we quickly realise we've been cornered and I grab him, pulling him inside one of the office rooms and slamming the door behind us, he pushes a heavy filing cabinet in front of it and we take just a second to gather our senses at the predicament we've found ourselves in.

"We're fucked," I breathe, pacing. "We're dead."

His eyes widen "This was your plan!"

"Like yours was any better!" I snap, trying to figure a way out of this. "Pretend to be a diplomat and pray no one recognises Captain America's best friend!"

"Sorry I couldn't exactly consult you on it!" he yells back over the sound of the police yelling in Russian outside the door. "The hell are they saying?"

"I don't know, take a guess!" I retort, marching over to the window and looking down at the drop. "I swear James Barnes if that doesn't kill you I will." It's then I catch an order in Russian to blow the door off it's hinges. "Shit- jump, now!"

The moment the explosives detonate we're throwing ourselves through the window, glass shattering around us but somehow we manage to hit the ground running not daring to look back as we make our way through the busy street below and I grab him, pulling him behind the corner of one of the buildings onto an empty back street, pushing him up against a wall and yanking his tie off him, pulling at his suit jacket.

"I know you are not doing that right now-" he begins and I slap his arm to shut him up.

"We need to blend in, running like fugitives won't get us to the airport alive," I reply, untying the strict bun my hair is in and messing it as well as his, dressed in typical office attire I shouldn't draw attention, but a rich looking man in a suit will. "I assume Steve's there."

"Private airfield, half a mile east of here," he answers. "How much of a headstart do we have before they go there."

"Absolutely none," I answer. "You got a transponder?" He nods and hands it to me as we begin walking along the backstreet with our heads down. "Steve, Peggy?"

"Ada," I hear Peggy answer, and hearing her voice brings unexpected tears to my eyes. "Thank god, I heard the gunshots, did you make it out?"

"We did, on route to the airfield, where are you?"

"Ahead of you," she answers. "Steve's got the plane ready, we'll be making a hasty exit."

Hand in hand we pick up our pace and blend in with the crowds walking down the streets, no doubt coming and going from getting their rations, with every step my stomach growing more sick, knowing our window is too small and with the transponder off I tell him "If the police make it there before us we tell them to leave."

He nods in quiet agreement, both of us willing to risk ourselves if it means getting Peggy and Steve out of there and it's at that moment the police cars race past us with sirens blaring and we look at each other in understanding before he pulls me behind a lamp post, holding me in an embrace and raises the transponder, hidden by our bodies.

"You have minutes at best before you're surrounded," I tell them. "We're still too far off to make it in time. Get out of there otherwise you'll be shot down the moment they get the order."

"Ada," I hear Peggy protest. "We aren't leaving you-"

"You've saved me," I tell her and look at the man I love. "You saved me okay, now let me do the rest. You and Steve get out of there before the police arrive, please."

We hear Steve arguing in the background, refusing to leave Bucky, but Peggy is too practical to risk their lives and I hear her say "Stay safe, and contact us when you're in a safe location."

The transponder is shut off and Bucky takes my hand, the two of us on our own and soon every widow they have will be searching for us.

"Come on," I say quietly, not just fighting for my life but his. "We need to disappear."

We walk through the city, in ruins from the german siege that battered it for so long, I was shocked the first time I saw the ruin of the eastern front with my own eyes, as Bucky is now.

"There's enough ruined buildings on the outskirts of the city we can take shelter in," I tell him and when he looks up to take in the city I pull on his arm. "No, the secret police are everywhere. Keep your head down and keep walking. If anyone stops us let me do the talking."

He can feel my hand trembling and brings it to his lips "We'll make it out of here okay? We'll make it home."

"Don't talk, don't let anyone hear you speak English," I say stiffly, wishing in our time together I'd taught him more than a few simple Russian phrases. He stays silent, rarely serious realising just how much danger we are in.

We walk along a street lined with cars and I keep my head low until I eye one with the windows down and guide him over to it, words not needing to be spoken as we get inside and he starts to hotwire it, having always been better at it than me. Quickly enough he gets it going and I get finally give myself room to breathe as he starts driving.

"You don't want to switch?" he asks me and I shake my head, having to give myself a moment to realise we can finally speak properly now.

"No, a woman driving will attract attention," I tell him, not taking any risks. He's never seen me this afraid, and it terrifies him.

"How did you escape before?" he asks me. "How did you get on the train to France?"

"We stowed away in military transport to Poland," I tell him. "From there we made our way through Germany onto civilian trains that were still active, moving german citizens into the occupied territory. At that point they didn't expect me to defect, I had the advantage of a head start, all we can hope for is to get to a safe location without being killed. This isn't Hydra Buck, they don't want to take us in to be their lab rats, this is the NKVD, they'll kill us on sight."

I've seen enough deaths to know what awaits us if we're caught. If they killed me I'd be lucky.

"You took those three agents like it was nothing," he says, not understanding the true horrors I've seen. "Whatever comes we can handle it."

"Those were three widows Buck, what I'm talking about is- the NKVD carried out the murders of forty thousand people in this city during the purge, and now they will be focused solely on finding us." I can't hold back the bite in my voice. "They scare me more than Hydra ever could. Hydra yeah, they might tie me up and shoot shit into my arm, but they haven't yet succeeded in carrying out a genocide. Why do you think when a widow infiltrated the base and ended up in your room with you I was so terrified? Why do you think I did what I did if it wasn't out of pure fucking fear?"

I never used to be this afraid, not until they brought me back here, Hydra might not have brainwashed me but the fear of Stalin was put into me.

"Well between gassing our entire unit and sticking a needle in my neck-"

"You can curse my name when we're safe," I scold and look in the review mirror only for my stomach to drop. "Change of plans, a widow's trailing us."

"Then where the hell are we going?" he asks as it sets in we can't hide, but we sure as hell can still run.

"Take a left to the airfield."

"Peggy and Steve are gone-"

"Steve's not the only one who can fly a plane," I remind him, checking the chambers of my pistols and counting the bullets. "The police will be gone from there by now and searching the city, they won't expect us to double back. No matter what happens just keep driving."

He looks at me in alarm but knows in combat to trust my judgement and does as I tell him, but not without arguing. "You pick on my plan meanwhile yours is to just drive into an airfield and hope we don't get shot?"

It's then we see the police cars following. "You got a better one?" And so as we approach the barbwire fence surrounding the airfield I give him one order "Don't stop."

"Hold on then," he says and I reach for his hand as he changes gears and hold on tight as speeds up. "Just like Bonnie and Clyde, huh sweetheart?"

"You could say that," I breathe and close my eyes as he drives straight through the fence into the airfield and I pull out my pistol, aiming it out the window and firing on the guards as he swerves to avoid the gunshots that rain down on us and I yell "The IL-2!"

He drives for the Sturmovik attack plane, coming to a screeching stop and he yells over the gunshots "Cover me!"

And so I do, from behind the car I cover him as he gets in the gunners seat and drop to the ground as he fires on the soviet police. As they scurry for cover I run for the plane, climbing up into the pilots seat, hands shaking as I start up the plane, Bucky on the machine gun the only thing keeping us from getting shot dead as I get the plane moving down the airstrip and yell out "Whatever you do, don't stop, if you see anything shoot it down!"

In the front I can fly the plane, but in the back it's him in charge of the artillery, he's not an airman but he sure as hell knows how to use any weapon I put into his hands. He's there in half a suit and I'm in a blouse and office skirt, neither of us in anyway dressed for this, both of us utterly unprepared with maybe a dozen bullets between us, but we have to make it out of here.

"Come on!" I hear Bucky yelling and look back to see us being pursued by a dozen police vehicles and then my blood drains at what's behind them "They've got a fucking tank!"

"Hold on!" I yell and force the plane off the runway, flying far too low but I manage to pull it up before we hit anything and we're in the sky. "Keep your eye out, they'll try to shoot us down!"

Even over the wind I can hear him curse "This is why I didn't join the fucking airforce."

"First time for everything," I reply with the slightest smile as I bring us up to altitude and fly south west over the body of water towards Latvia. "Alright, once we're over the border we should be safe until we reach german territory since we're in a Russian plane, they won't be able to get the word out fast enough for the planes at the front to shoot us down."

Finally we allow ourselves a breath of relief and I can hear it in his voice, the exhilaration, the hope as he tells me "We're going home sweetheart."

"We're going home," I repeat in pure awe and we keep heading west and look at my radar, unable to find any threats as we enter the Polish airspace. "I'm going to head south to Austria to fly around the German airspace, it should be a safe rout since we took out the Hydra base."

"Alright, I'll keep an eye out."

The light disappears from the horizon as we fly towards Austria, and it's as we fly over the alps my radar starts malfunctioning, along with other mechanics. "Buck, somethings not right." We're on our last leg of fuel, just enough to reach Switzerland. "There's some type of electric interference."

"Can we fly around it?"

"We're in enemy territory, if we try to go around we'll run into trouble." But as we fly over one of the mountains I see it, a base that should not be there. "Shit, shit!"

"What!" He sees it a moment after I do and I swerve violently, but it's too late as I hear him yelling "They've got us!"

The missile blows off the tail of the plane and we're thrown into violent freefall. I can hear him screaming at me but can't make out the words over the chaos and my life flashes before my eyes as we're losing altitude and with moments between life and death I unstrap myself, trying to throw open the roof and finding it stuck, pounding at it before shooting through the glass, unable to look back to see if he made it out before throwing myself from the cockpit into the dark night.

My body lays there broken in agony with smoke filling my senses as I finally come to, and in the distance my eyes focus on the burning wreckage, and my will overpowers the absolute blinding pain as I force myself up onto my forearms and then to my feet, crying out at the weight on my ankle as I drag myself through the trees towards the fire.

"James!" I scream at the top of my lungs, tears streaming down my cheeks. "James!" My chest constricts and I clutch it, struggling for breath as I spin around, looking in all directions for the man I love and finding nothing. "Please." I don't know who I'm begging, but prayers of pure desperation leave my lips. "Please I can't-" I can't lose him like this, not when he was trying to save me. "Please."

Limping I make my way to the wreckage, finding nothing left but a burning fireball.

"No," I whisper as strength gives out and I fall to my knees. "No- please-no."

A scream of the purest agony is torn from my throat, the wail of a broken woman and I'm staring into the fire as I'm surrounded by Hydra soldiers.

"Hands up, now!" they yell as my fingers reach for the knife strapped to my thigh, in a split second I've made the decision to bring the knife to my throat.

I'm not going alive.

But just as I draw blood I hear him yelling my name "Ada!"

He made it.

It's then I become hyperaware of the predicament we're suddenly in, and the moment I hear the guards give the order to find them I'm on my feet, with only a blade I take down the two soldiers closest to me and yell out into the cold wilderness "Run!"

As I bring down two more men with blades to their throats I hear one of the guards yelling into the coms "It's the Red Widow, we need backup, now!"

He's the next one to drop as they fire blindly into the darkness but miss as I slash the backs of their legs and finally get my hands on a machine gun, and they're dead.

"Ada."

I look up to see him standing there, clothes singed but alive. "James!"

He gapes at me in horror before he rushes forward, reaching for me and it's only then I realise how my white blouse is saturated with blood. "You're bleeding-"

I grab his hands, feeling how they shake so violently. "It's not mine," I assure him, bringing them to my face. "It's not mine."

He searches my eyes before believing me and kisses me hard, hands running over my body, checking me for wounds. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm standing," I answer, having not even taken a moment to assess the damage. "You?"

"Standing," he replies and looks around "We need to get out of here."

"They've called for backup and the transponder is burning along with the plane," I tell him, as he picks up a machine gun. "They know I'm here, but there's still a chance-"

"No," he immediately protests, leaving no room for argument. "I'm not leaving you."

And so I grip his hand tight. "Then we need to move, now."

Hand in hand we start running, making our way through the cold wilderness, putting as much space between those bodies and ourselves as we can, adrenaline being the only things keeping us going after freefalling from a burning plane until I'm limping, foot dragging behind me as I clutch his arm, finally crying out as I trip in the darkness and he picks me up off the ground.

"You are hurt," he says as I try to put weight on it, not willing to slow down.

"I can still walk," I promise him, holding onto his arm for stability, suddenly cursing as we step onto uneven ground and my ankle goes "Shit."

"I've got you," he says, slinging the gun over his shoulder so he can hold me up. "I've got you sweetheart."

Exasperated I ask "How am I in worse shape than you?"

"Looks like that serum worked after all," he answers and we hear it at the same time as helicopters with search lights appear over head, but it's the bark in the distance that has him asking "Are there wolves?"

"No, but Hydra would have search dogs, blood hounds," I answer fearfully and he grabs me without hesitation at the sound of boots running towards us, lifting me up into his arms bridal style we take off running, the searchlights above illuminating the wilderness only to find ourselves surrounding on all sides my hydra's soldiers.

Gunshots ring out and we go tumbling to the ground, crying out at the pain that shoots through my body and in the blinding light I see the blood in the snow. "James!"

He groans, blood spurting from the back of his leg, Hydra's bloodhounds snapping at us with their handlers being all that's keeping them from attacking us and I stare into the barrels of their rifles, shuffling backwards to reach for my machine gun only for them to fire a warning shot that barely misses my fingers, and I find myself staring into the eyes of the Red Skull himself.

"The Red Widow," he says and I look to Bucky, on the ground beside me, applying pressure to the gunshot in his leg, blood coating his hands as he tries to stop the bleeding. "And Sergeant Barnes. We meet again." My fingers reach for my blade only for him to pull his own pistol free, aiming it at Bucky's head. "Any sudden movements and the next bullet will be in his skull."

Slowly I raise my hands, too afraid too speak as I look at Bucky beside me, slowly shaking his head, but it's the look in his eyes that gives me a silent order to not go quietly and I eye his gun, slung over his back.

The Red Skull looks at me, kicking my machine gun out of my reach as he stands over me. "Tsk, now what to do with you?"

Out of the corner of my eye I see Bucky slowly moving and go to kick Red Skull's feet out from under him, moving with quick precision and the moment Bucky fires I'm reaching for my machine gun only to scream out shot in the back of the leg at close range and look up at Bucky as a pistols pressed to my head.

"Drop the gun or she dies."

I watch tearfully as he slowly takes the gun and throws it aside before raising his hands, eyes on my blood that turns the snow red, both of us slowly bleeding out "Just let her go."

"Just let her go?" he repeats back at him. "Alright."

The gun is removed from my head and I'm too terrified to move, expecting at any moment for another bullet to hit me and so does Bucky as he scrambles forward to pull me into his arms, his already bloody hand coming to cover the gunshot on my leg, cradling me in his arms as the Red Skull stands there with dozens of soldiers at his back, all with guns aimed on us. I look down at the red in a state of shock,wondering if this is it. Zola wants us alive, but Zola isn't here.

"It's alright," Bucky murmurs in my ear and Red Skull turns back to his officers, speaking in german to them, no doubt trying to figure out what to do with us. "I've got you, we're going to be okay."

Yet he holds me tight as if it's the last time and I bury my face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in as I whisper "I love you, I'm so sorry I left you."

"Shh," he hushes, one hand on my wound and the other cradling my head. "I love you okay? I love you."

Is this how it ends? Us shot dead execution style in the middle of nowhere, our bodies never to be found. Bucky sure thinks so as he pulls my body to his, shielding it as much as he can as Red Skull turns back to us, brandishing a camera, the flash blinding.

"This-" he begins proudly. "This is a sight for Captain America to see."

It's at that Bucky reaches for the machine gun, only to be met with a bullet in the chest and I scream out as his body seizes up before going limp in my arms. I'm crying, a hand pressed over the wound in his chest as I cradle him in my arms and look up at the Red Skull with tears of pure rage burning in my eyes as he orders "Take them to the lab, make sure the girl's alive for Zola."

"No-no," I fight, refusing to let go of him until I'm cracked across the face with a metal baton and hear him yelling my name as he's torn from me and I'm beaten until I'm on the ground, face in the snow watching him fight as my vision fades to nothingness.

#bucky barnes #bucky #barnes #sergeant james barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #winter soldier #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x oc #sebastian stan #thunderbolts #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x original character #40's bucky #40's bucky fanfiction

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misshoneybee · 2 years

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⟣ 𝐼𝐼𝐼. 𝑌𝑂𝑈'𝑅𝐸 𝑀𝑌 𝐴𝐶𝐻𝐼𝐿𝐿𝐸𝑆 𝐻𝐸𝐸𝐿 ⟢

Part I: We Learn to Live with the Pain Part II: These are the Hands of Fate ( Each part serves as something of a soft reboot so it’s not completely necessary to read Parts I and II first, but it’s strongly recommended! )

❧ Summary | What happens after the state of grace? Rebuilding her life was something that Maggie Hall had never planned on doing again. At twenty-one. At twenty-seven. And now at thirty-two. She could only hope that this time would be the last but, as she’d slowly had to learn, there was no way to control the future. With a new home in Brooklyn and new friends in Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson, she had a whole new life that was full of endless possibilities, but what would happen was something that she'd never seen coming.

❧ Genre | Romance, angst, fluff, smut, drama, mostly canon-compliant story-telling

❧ Pairings | Post-Endgame!Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character

❧ Wordcount | ~159.2k

❧ Overall Warnings | Explicit smut (18+, additional warnings to come in each chapter), explicit language, canon-typical violence/injury, themes of mental illness (depression, anxiety, ocd, ptsd)

❧ Disclaimers | Dividers are by firefly-graphics. If you are a minor, or do not have your age in your bio, and I catch you interacting with this, you will be blocked. If you believe you were blocked unfairly, send me an ask with your url.

⟣ 𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅𝑆 ⟢

i. Did You Ever Hear About the Girl Who Got Frozen? ii. You’re Still All Over Me Like a Wine-Stained Dress I Can’t Wear Anymore iii. Can You See Right Through Me? iv. One for the Money, Two for the Show, I Never Was Ready So I Watched You Go v. For the First Time, What’s Past is Past vi. I Just Sit Here and Wait, Grieving for the Living vii. Forever Going with the Flow but You’re Friction viii. And All the Pieces Fall ⋆ ix. We Were a Fresh Page on the Desk, Filling in the Blanks as We Go x. We Took a Wrong Turn and We Fell Down the Rabbit Hole ⋆ xi. I’ll Be Summer Sun for You Forever xii. There is an Indentation in the Shape of You ⋆ xiii. No Rules in Breakable Heaven xiv. Religion’s in Your Lips ⋆ xv. Who You Are is Not What You Did xvi. And When I’m Feeling Alone, You Remind Me of Home xvii. Faster than the Wind, Passionate as Sin ⋆ xviii. This is Falling in Love in the Cruelest Way xix. And What Once Was Ours is No One’s Now xx. Tell Me That I’m All You Want Even When I Break Your Heart xxi. In Losing Grip on Sinking Ships, You Showed Up Just in Time ⋆ xxii. Long Story Short, I Survived ⋆

⋆ denotes sexually explicit material. minors, dni.

⟣ 𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐾𝑆 ⟢

❧ Original Character Biography ❧ Series Masterpost ❧ Masterpost ❧ Playlists ❧ AO3 ❧ Wattpad

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themorningsunshine · 1 year

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I like me better when I am with you

Masterlist

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Summary - Bucky isn't in love with you, nope, not at all, not even a bit, that doesn't mean he has to like that man who is shamelessly drooling over you.

Warnings - Fluff, Bucky’s internal thoughts, jealousy

Word count - 2.8k

a/n - I had so much fun writing this.

Bucky’s internal monologue is in italic.

Stark parties were his least favourite. They always consisted of the same kind of people. Bucky didn't have to remember their faces to know that. They were all the same. Rich people with money much more than they could handle, spend it in the worst and the dumbest way possible. No, really, why the hell would they get their already filthy expensive phone coated with gold? And don't even get him started on when he had heard a man complaining that Tony hadn't put 'perfectly squared ice cubes' worth 300$ each in their drinks. Hell, he had somehow started respecting Tony's choices and that man was currently wearing a 100,000$ suit.

But these parties were never this unbearable. He always used to have company. He still has Steve sitting beside him and don't get him wrong, Steve is his best friend but there's a limit as to how much Bucky can hear that man complain about the new recruits.

"Can't believe Tony was able to do that. That man has got brains. Only if he was not so arrogant. Don't you think, Buck?"

His name slipping from Steve's mouth makes him look at his best friend who has been talking to him for .... well, a long time. He didn't even know when he switched topics.

Bucky never really zones out. He is a great listener but today, something else has caught his attention completely. Something which keeps bugging him and he doesn't even understand why.

Steve sighs as he realises just how much his best friend has been listening to him. "You know, Sam is right, you do have a staring problem."

"No, I don't," Bucky says in a way that makes it look like that's the most absurd and offensive thing he has ever heard.

Steve chuckles and says, "You don't have to sit here and pretend that it doesn't hurt you."

Bucky gives out a sarcastic chuckle. After everything he has been through, there is nothing in a hundred-mile radius of this party that could remotely hurt him. "I am just fine, Steve. Why would I be hurt?" He doesn't say he is good, or great, he says 'just fine' 'cause that's his default setting. To be just fine. He is rarely ever more than that.

No, you are, when you are with her. His inner thoughts whisper to him. He shakes his head to get that thought away as if it had offended him too.

Steve gives him a small smile and nods his head towards a direction that Bucky has been not so subtly staring at for the past half an hour.

And there you are. In all your glory. In the beautiful, simple, golden outfit you are wearing, sipping on your drink in the most gentle way possible. The colour golden suits you, Bucky thinks.

That's what you said when she was wearing blue. A person can look good in 2 colours. Then what about green and - Shut up.

He looks at you again and notices the thing that has been bugging him. You're still talking to him. The man with the too smooth suit and the too silky hair and the too gentle words and the - ... God, he hates that man. And he has reasons for it. Who the hell wears a black tie with a black suit? Doesn't he have any other colour to wear? And who the hell drinks non-alcoholic drinks when at a Stark party? And then Bucky remembers you telling him once that you hated the smell of alcohol. That you couldn't stand within a metre radius of the people who had drunk a lot. But, that man doesn't know that.

You are still smiling at him and talking. But, that's okay. You love to talk. You could spend hours talking about the movie you just saw or the book you just read. That's nothing. And smiling, well you smile at everything. That's your default setting. To find beauty in everything and give it the most beautiful and genuine smile he has ever seen. You can really find the good in everything.

Maybe that's why she is friends with you.

That's not the point. You even smile at strays. And that's who the man is, a stray, a wild, animal.

Cannot be wilder than you. Or did you forget who you are, Buck?

Bucky doesn't like these thoughts. They tend to come back to him in crowded places. When there are too many people staring at him, talking about him. You always used to be there with him. Making fun of all these rich people and their etiquette.

The both of you would mostly escape from the party early, especially when you were done with what you actually came here for, which was always food. He had to agree. Tony did know how to throw a good party.

You would sneak him into the mini theatre and would watch the silliest movies, just to laugh at their absurdity. Or you would just take him to the roof and the both of you sat there, stargazing and talking. You were really a good friend of his.

Friend? Friends don't glare holes into the back of the man they're just talking to.

This man had approached you at the start of the party and hadn't left your side. Clingy. Rich, coming from you.

You didn't owe Bucky anything. You didn't sign a contract that you had to spend all these parties with him. No, it wasn't any of that. That doesn't mean it couldn't hurt.

"Buck, why don't you just tell her?" For a second, Bucky is taken aback. He had completely forgotten that Steve was still sitting there. What had happened to his super soldier skills?

Too busy gaping at her I remember asking you to shut up And I remember telling you not to fall in love with her

Bucky clears his throat at the last comment by his inner conscience. Sometimes, it acted weird.

"Tell who, what, Steve?" Bucky feigns nonchalance as if he has no idea what Steve is talking about.

Steve chuckles. "How many hers do you have in your life, Buck?" Noone. Just her.

Bucky is sure he is going crazy. Maybe he has had too much to drink. You haven't touched alcohol. Oh, I wonder why that is.

"I know many people who use that pronoun, punk. Nat, Wanda, Sharon, Maria, many shield agents, Carol, oh and yeah... y/n. You have to be more specific" Well done

"Fine, I will be more specific. How many 'hers' do you stare at?" "None." He replies, a little too fast and Steve gives him a knowing smirk. And there it goes...

"I am not staring at anyone, Steve." He gives him a pointed look. "Whatever sails your boat, Buck. But I'd recommend talking to her before it's too late."

Before it's too late

That sentence echoes in his ears. He didn't want to lose you. Not to the annoying guy who had still not left your side, not to the shield agent who always insisted on training with you whenever he got the chance, not to anyone. He didn't want to lose you. Never.

How can you lose someone who isn't even yours? This time his inner voice is gentle, pleading as if it is silently begging him to do something.

Before he even knows what he's doing, Bucky is out of his chair and walking towards the bar.

You chuckle at something the man says before you notice Bucky walking towards the both of you and your smile gets wider.

"Hey, doll." He greets you, completely ignoring the man standing a couple of feet away.

: "Hey, Buck. Please tell me Steve didn't talk your ear out about work." You say with a chuckle. Of course, you had noticed Bucky talking to Steve, your eyes tended to look for his even in a room full of hundreds.

Bucky just lets out a chuckle, shrugging, already feeling much at ease now that he was with you.

A clearing of throat brings both of your attention back to the man standing beside you.

"Gosh, I am sorry. Bucky, this is Todd. Todd Williams. You remember the law firm Tony was talking about the other day?"

Bucky just nods his head, least interested in who this man was.

"He is the owner." You introduce him to Bucky with a polite smile on your face and Bucky wants to rip this man's head off. Even though he just knows his name, he is pretty sure he is going to hate him, if he doesn't already.

"Hi, Bucky, I have heard a lot about you." The man brings his hand forward for a handshake and Bucky thinks he will chop off his hand before he shakes it with the man.

"James." He replies with a stern look on his face.

Todd awkwardly takes his hand back and narrows his eyes in confusion.

"My name is James. Only my friends call me Bucky."

You widen your eyes at Bucky. You knew he never liked meeting new people and that he was not really the warmest to strangers, but he was never so.... hostile. If looks could kill, Todd would be six feet under by now.

"It's nice to meet you, James." Todd tries again, now slightly scared of the former winter soldier.

"I wish I could say the same. What are you even doing here?" Bucky asks, annoyed.

"Bucky." You whisper yell his name to remind him how Tony had conducted an emergency meeting to tell everyone that they have to be nicer to the guests. You, then put on a smile before replying for Todd, "He is here for the charity auction. Isn't that nice?"

Bucky squints his eyes at you as if he can't figure out what's so nice about giving your money away for charity.

"That is just an excuse, really," Todd says, in an attempt to break the tension. "I came here in hopes of meeting a beautiful woman." He then looks at you before saying, "Mission accomplished."

You giggle at his words, flustered. You know he is just trying to be nice and not flirty. He had just told you how badly he was missing his wife who was much better at these charity auctions than he was.

What you don't notice is how Bucky's jaws tense and his fists clench. If they were not standing in a room full of so many people, he would have picked the glass from the nearby table and broken it on Todd's head. Tony's warnings are damned.

He instead just says, "Well then, you don't have to stay for the auction. Leave."

Todd nervously chuckles."I could. But now that I am here, maybe I could enjoy the party for a bit."

"You should. Tony's parties have the best appetizers." You tell him, desperately trying to make him feel comfortable when there is an ex-assassin who looks like he could slit his throat if given a chance.

"But you know what's better? The exit gate. You should check it out and while you are at it, maybe also get your ass out of here." Bucky says without an ounce of hesitation in his voice.

"Bucky." You gasp. This wasn't funny anymore. "Can I talk to you? In private?"

You give Todd an apologetic smile before holding Bucky's hand to get the hell out of here, without waiting for his response.

Bucky stops for a moment to look at Todd again, "The exit gate is that way. Feel free to use it while we are gone."

You pull him with you and take him towards the nearest balcony, not leaving his hand till you are out in the cold air and can't hear the party from inside.

You let go of him to cross your arms across your chest. "Buck, what the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Showing an annoying joke of a man his place," Bucky replies, without a single ounce of guilt for what he has done.

"Bucky." It's your turn to be upset. "He is a businessman. A rich one. His contribution could be great for the auction. Do you not remember what Tony said?"

"I don't care what Tony says. What is he gonna do with so much money, anyways? Buying some piece of mind?"

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why in the nine realms were you so rude to Todd?" You snapped.

"Oh, so now you call him Todd, huh?"

"That's literally his name."

"It's a very stupid name, okay? But it suits him. A stupid name for a stupid man. In his stupid suit with his stupid money." Bucky rambles, disgusted as if he hasn't heard a worse name in his long life.

"Buck, you are behaving like a 5-year-old now. What's - ?" You stop yourself as an amused grin spreads on your face as you put the pieces together. "Oh, god!!" You place your palm on your mouth before whispering, "Bucky, you - You are jealous."

"No, no I am not, Not even a bit. Nada.Negative. Why would I be?" Bucky shakes his head as if that were a ridiculous thought. Why was everyone getting the most ridiculous ideas today?"

"I would have believed you if you hadn't said no 6 times. You are jealous." Your smile grows wider as you take a step towards him with a pointed look. "You are jealous because he was talking to me the whole time and he called me beautiful and said that I had a pretty smile." "When did he - " Bucky stops himself as he realises the rage in his voice will give him away. He takes a step back and turns away, till he is standing near the railing.

You stand beside him, about to say something, till you look into his eyes. His eyes have a look you have seen before. He is hurt. He is processing a lot of things that he doesn't want to think about. This wasn't amusing anymore. "Hey. I - I am sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Bucky, I am - "

"I am not jealous, okay?" He now turns and looks directly into your eyes. "I am not. I just don't like it when someone else has your attention. Not because I am jealous, no. But because I am scared." Bucky swallowed thickly. You had seen him vulnerable before when he had nightmares and you were trying to remind him where he was or when memories from his time at hydra hit him with full force. But this was a different kind. It was as if he was laying his soul bare in front of you. Voicing his worst fears.

"I am scared because I don't want anyone else to realise how amazing, smart, funny, kind and just so damn lovable you are. Because then they will steal you from me. I will lose you forever and - and I don't want that. I don't want to lose you to someone else. I don't want to lose you." He says the last sentence as if he is begging whatever god will listen to not let his worst fears turn true, to let him have this. Let him have you.

"Tell me, doll. Why am I so scared to lose you when you are not even mine?"

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked at him.

Before Bucky knew what was happening, you closed the distance between the both of you. As your lips met his, everything else stood at a standstill.

Bucky was too shocked to respond for a minute. This couldn't be happening. Did you feel the same way about him? How -

All these thoughts turn into nothing until you're the only one comprising his thoughts. And Bucky realises this is how it has been for a long time. It was just you. In his heart and his mind. Your warmth spread through him and captured his soul until it was impossible to separate the two of them.

He kisses you with the same love and gentleness as his hands find your waist to pull you impossibly closer towards him.

When the necessity to breathe arose, you pulled away but still stood close.

"I want to be yours, Buck."

If the kiss had stolen his breath away, your words make his heart beat frantically. This couldn't be happening. This had to be a dream.

"You don't mean that, doll. You - "

"I do. I do mean that, Buck. I choose you. And I'd always choose you. In a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd always choose you”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x y/n #winter soldier x you #marvel #oneshot #jealousy #love confessions #bucky barnes fluff

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1800jjbarnes · 1 year

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𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐲 | 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬

【Synopsis】 : Bunnies shouldn't be wondering on their own. A big bad wolf is stalking the forest, and he will do anything to protect what is his.

『Word count』 : 1.84k

Paring: Wolf!Alpha!Bucky x Bunny!Hybrid!Reader

[Warnings] : Blood, knife, reader gets cut, Bucky goes wild, lots of gore, cruel words, swearing. Bucky in a suit cause that is a warning on its one. Dirty talk. Harassment, sexualising. Abuse. Toxic friendships. Triggering scenes. John being a disgusting person.

✦ The ALPHA AND BUNNY Universe ✦ -> [Click Here]

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You were just doing your normal run. Grabbing supplies and then heading back to your cottage. You were rushing a little bit because you needed to still pack your things for the couple of nights you will be at the den. Bucky had begged you to come over to see his brothers, so tonight you finally agreed. You were excited but very nervous as well. So your best idea you could conger was to get some supplies for a calming medicine. It is a simple recipe to calm anything from overthinking thoughts to a shaking body. But what you didn't expect to see was an old face on your journey.

You stopped cutting the fungi, hearing the leaves and twigs snapping under the weight of someone's footing. You looked over to where the sound had come from while still crouching in front of the large elm tree. His smile caught you off guard. He has gotten bigger since you've seen him last. His pitch black ears stood straight up high, not even flopping as he tilted his head to the side.

"Funny seeing you here." His voice got deeper too. It's no longer the pitchy mismatch tone you remember. He aged the two years you've been gone. Well, out casted... you were stunned, to say the least. Standing up slowly, you dropped your items in the basket with caution. Your community was housed in the far east, almost two whole forestry's down. Why would he be this far out? Unless...

"Wolf, got your tongue?" He chuckled, taking a few steps towards you. Hairs on your body stood up straight as a bad feeling rushed into your gut. Even though he was a friend back then, he has become nothing more than a stranger now. He didn't stop or even fight to keep you in the community. All you can recall is seeing him watch from the sidelines as you were shunned out of the village. He was no friend to you.

"Why are you here?" You finally speak up, taking a step back from him. He watches you closely, moving in time with you. Until a tree stops your footing, making you unable to step away from him anymore.

"I thought you'd be more of, Hey it's so nice to see you. It's been ages. How have you been doing John? I'm fine y/n thanks for asking." His words got sharper as each one fell. He was annoyed at your hostility, getting tired of the way you are standing your guard up as if he was going to do something to you.

"Why are you here, John... What do you want?" You sounded more stern this time, trying to keep your ground. You weren't the little defenceless bunny anymore. You had a voice. Bucky helped you with that. John, however, didn't like this new you. You weren't mould-able anymore. He can't bend you like he used to.

"I see being around these flea-ridden pests has turned you sour. Where did your manners go..." He traps you against the tree and his large body. He looks you up and down, fingers grazing over your flopped fluffy ears. "Where did my innocent sweet puffball go?" He twists his fingers over your cottontail, tugging slightly, making you gasp out in disgust. His breath pooled on your cheek, his lips parting lightly as if he wanted to kiss you. You closed your eyes, waiting for the worst, but he pulled away entirely, sighing out while stretching.

"Come on, let's go to this cottage of yours while we wait." He picked up the basket you had dropped.

"Wait for what?" You instantly regretted asking once you hear him reply, your heart stopping at his words as your blood ran cold.

"You're coming home."

Time was ticking, and as the sun began to fade into the setting, Bucky's pacing became more prominent. Where were you? You said to meet at the bend where the water met the hill before the pack grounds, but you were nowhere to be seen. He's been waiting for around thirty minutes already. Something was wrong, and he could tell. His bond with you made his wolf scream out in pain. No, something was definitely off, and he needed to find you now.

"ARGH, how long does this take?" His annoyance is spilling out of his words. He just wanted this to be done. He didn't want to be around you any more than he had to, but he had to do it so he could finally get the title of knight back at the kingdom. You sat in the same spot for the past hour, watching John pace back and forth near the front door of your cottage. He was getting impatient, biting his nails in annoyance. You watched him, hugging yourself. Your breath was hitched. You weren't terrified of him, but fear-filled your senses at his restlessness. He started to become more and more driven by anger. He needed to be able to prove himself. So he can finally be put as a knight in their court. He needed to be better. And if it meant to hurt you, he'd do it. In truth, he might have been friends with you when you were young, but now all he sees is a stranger whenever your eyes meet. He was not the boy that used to play hide and seek with or play jumping Johns or run around the castle halls. He was nothing to you.

"J-John can we just tal—Shut up, will you? God" He is laced with venom, swinging his pocket knife around his fingers as he sat down at your dining table. You straighten yourself, gulping slightly, watching him in the next room slowly slip more and more into impatience.

"Why do they want me back? It's been years." You try pushing your luck again, asking him an array of questions, in hopes it might gift you knowledge, but as he racks his finger through his dark hair, you know all you're doing is pushing his buttons until he snaps.

"Can't you just sit there and not talk like you used to, huh? God being around that animal and his friends really made you so dumb." He stood up, turning his back to you to look out the window. You felt hurt, anger even. You were scared, but not scared enough to push your luck.

"Mate...." He turned his head, with an eyebrow raised. At your sudden bold tone, "Bucky is my mate... not some animal." A growl buried in your chest. Maybe the wolves have brushed off on you.

"M-mate? Wow, that is by far the most disturbing thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth." Displeasure boiled on his tongue as he stood up tall, walking towards you. Your eyes widened at his sudden movements, crawling back onto the couch further and further, trying to get more distance from him. He knelt down right in front of you, pointing his knife in your direction, tilting his head along with the blade.

"You are so delusional, you know that. Soulmates? Mates? Bonds? Wolves just use that excuse to fuck one another. You know that, right? He probably saw you and thought, this little.." He leant closer, "Innocent..." His breath brushed on your cheek. "Bunny..." The tip of his knife grazed your upper thigh. "Looks so fuckable. I'm going to take her and make her my fuck toy." The knife sliced your thigh drawing blood immediately as he pulled away chuckling. His back straightens up as he looks down on you.

"That's what you are, aren't you? His stupid little sex toy. A slut for his own pleasure and here I thought you'd grow up to be a smart independent rabbit, but look at you now." He spat at you, some of it landing on your shorts as you hissed in pain from the cut. Your hand tried its best to keep the wound from opening but it was no use, blood was painting your couch, thigh and clothes. You become frozen, tears pooling in your eyes. You knew for a fact his words weren't true, but they still hurt you. He knew nothing of Bucky, nothing of his romantic tropes and loving nature. He didn't know anything about your mate, but the depiction he strode out made your heart shatter.

"You know, screw—" Before he could finish his sentence, the front door bursts open with a very sweaty, hot, and angry Bucky in its frame. John shivered slightly. All his talk might mean one thing, but seeing an actual wolf was another.

"Want to finish that sentence, John?" Bucky's voice was low, lower than you've ever heard it. His eyes were crimson, the gold only a small detail in his red pools.

"H-How do you know my name?" John answered with a question, his ears flopping down as a dead give away he was becoming frightened. If it was one thing you remembered about John, it was he was all bark and no bite. Pun intended. Bucky tilted his head, a snapping sound echoing from it as he cracked the plate in his spine. His hands pulled at his black suit cuffs, straightening his blazer upon his deep maroon blouse that hid underneath.

"I know a lot about you. You be surprised how much I know about my darlings kingdom. Every rabbit, where they live. Even where the king and queen, their parents." He pointed with anger in his tone at you. "Where they rest their little heads at night." He stepped forward, deeper into the room when a horrid smell, a smell he wishes never to smell from you. Blood. His eyes grazed your body, seeing your hand still holding the flesh wound, hot blood slipping through the cracks of your fingers.

That's it all terms of charisma, composure and sense of calmness goes out the window. Looking at you one last time, his eyes meet Johns in pure red rage. John gulps, knowing what Bucky was looking at, but before he can even think about getting his was out of it, Bucky moved faster than anything he could see, pining John to the nearest wall by the throat. His fingers pinch down on his windpipe, and Bucky's teeth are bared.

"You should have really thought before you touched what is mine." Bucky's words rang in John's ears as he screamed out within the second, feeling his neck being pierced by sharp talon-like teeth. His flesh was ripped away in one motion, like a butter knife cutting through soft cream. James spat out the flesh along with the blood that had mixed with his saliva, dropping John to the ground, where he quickly grabbed his neck, gasping for air.

"You think we are animals. Being compelled by the need to hunt our prey..." He crouched down, becoming eye level with the dying rabbit. "If that's so true, then I guess this makes you my prey..."

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vbecker10 · 12 days

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Laundry Day

Loki's POV of events: How Could This Not Fit?!

Bucky's spin-off fic: Loads of Fun (different Y/N character) - in progress

Pairing: Loki x female reader (ofc)

Summary: You and Loki are living together in the Avengers Tower and you've asked him to help you with the laundry. You decide it's the perfect opportunity to prank him but that might not have been a good idea... not if you wanted to sleep tonight that is.

Warnings: ... um nothing really, alluding to sex but not much

A/N: I finished my laundry and was folding (trying desperately to fold) my fitted sheet and I came up with this silly little thing so... enjoy 💚

You take a bottle of water out of the fridge in the common kitchen, laughing to yourself as you shake your head.

"Something funny in the fridge?" Tony asks from the island, looking up from his tablet.

You turn to him and open the bottle. "No, I was just laughing about something that could possibly get me in a lot of trouble with Loki," you barely explain.

"I have no idea what that means," Steve says as he and Bucky join the conversation.

You take a sip of water and set the bottle on the island. "I was tired of being the one who did our laundry all the time so I told Loki he needed to help me with it today," you start to tell them.

"Still not seeing the funny," Tony says sarcastically.

"I'm getting there," you wave away his comment and he chuckles. "So anyway, I told him to help and he did... an okay job of it. I mean, the dryer and him got in a bit of a fight but we finally got it done," you continue.

"Did he break the dryer cause I've gotta do like four loads of laundry tonight?" Bucky asks concerned as he pulls out the stool next to Steve.

"How could you possibly have to do four loads of laundry?" Tony turns towards him. "You own one hoodie and three henleys at most," he adds.

"Can we get back to my problem?" you pull their attention back to yourself. "I might not have much time left," you joke but you aren't actually sure how long until Loki comes looking for you.

"What did you do to him?" Steve asks, sounding concerned for your safety. Loki would never hurt you of course, he loved you too much, but when you annoyed him you always found it hard to walk the next day.

"Well, he put all the laundry away using his magic but I told him that was cheating. He said it wasn't and we went back and forth for a bit until I made him a bet," you smile. Loki could never resist a wager, especially since he always assumed he would win, and he usually did. "I bet him... something," you suddenly realize you don't necessarily want the guys to know the dirty things you promised Loki and they all look away awkwardly for a moment as if they understood that.

"Right, whatever... so the bet was for him to make the bed himself, without his magic," you tell them.

"Look, I still don't like him very much but, give him a little credit. I think he's smart enough to figure it out," Bucky says.

"Yeah, that doesn't really seem like a bet you're going to win, Y/N," Steve agrees.

"Well... I might not have except for one teeny tiny little bitty detail," you assure them.

"Which is?" Tony asks with a mixture of curiosity and agitation that the story is taking so long.

"I switched the sheet set," you say, they all stare at you confused and you sigh. "I gave him a full size set... and we have a queen bed. There's not a chance in hell he's going to be able to get the fitted sheet on and if he does manage it, I'll know he used his magic and still win," you smile broadly, proud of yourself for tricking the trickster God.

"Well that's a dangerous game to play," Steve says and before you can respond you hear Loki coming down the hall.

"Y/N," he says when he enters the kitchen. You swallow as your mouth goes dry, he does not look happy. "You cheated," he says without question.

"No, I was just..." you try to explain but he walks towards you, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

"You... cheated," he says slowly as he backs you into the counter by the sink.

"I mean, only a little," you say with a smile but he doesn't smile back. "And I only did it to make sure you didn't use your magic," you quickly try to explain.

"Um, I think we should go... literally anywhere else," Steve says as Loki grips your waist with both hands and keeps you pressed between himself and the counter.

"Don't worry, we're leaving," Loki says with a smirk, still looking only at you. Without warning he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You gasp and the suddenness of it and he uses one arm to hold you in place by the back of your legs as he turns to leave the kitchen. He pauses and picks up your water bottle. "You'll need to keep hydrated, it's going to be a very long night, love," he says as he carries you down the hall towards your room.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @kkdvkyya @animnerd @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @theaudacitytowrite @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @high-functioning-lokipath @winniewings @pics-and-fanfics @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lulubelle814 @crimson25 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @chantsdemarins @foxherder @tonystank8

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marvelvillian23 · 2 months

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PLEASE!! I need fics rec for all of these! Especially the Convict. Please be multi Chapter fics.

It even can be Steve in these situations instead of Bucky I don’t mind.

*Photos From Pinterest

I’m currently reading Blood Moon Rising on AO3 by Sarahyellow.

It’s a A/B/O prison story where Bucky’s the convict and pre serum Steve is the prison counselor…I think. A riot breaks out and Bucky takes Steve hostage. 5/8 Chapters are up so far.

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sarahowritesostucky · 2 months

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📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3620

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

6. Somethin' with Bananas

Steve

Steve wakes up to Bucky spooning him, pressing his morning wood against his ass. He hums with his eyes still closed, enjoying the feeling. “Mmm, g’morning.”

Hands slide onto his hips. “Mornin’ Sunshine.”

Steve smiles. “Sunshine” is one of Bucky’s favorite pet names for him. Steve is rather fond of it too, after so many years together. His husband has a knack for making him feel special like that. “What’re you doin', Buck?” he warns softly, still smiling because he likes the feeling of being explored, even if they can't take this far right now because of—

“She left for work a while ago,” Bucky murmurs, the answer to a question that Steve hasn’t asked. Alone time doesn’t happen as much as it used to, these days. "Left a bunch of baking stuff out on the counter. There's a note threatening us with mortal peril if we eat any of her bananas."

"Hmm." Steve yawns deeply and wiggles his butt back against his husband's noticeable hardon. "Whas'she makin'?"

"Dunno. Somethin' with bananas." Bucky’s hand slides to the juncture of Steve’s legs. He palms the half hard line of his cock from over his briefs, massaging the bulge as it grows. Steve moans a little and tips his head back to Bucky’s shoulder, a wordless request for kisses. Bucky starts lavishing his neck with attention while his hand continues its slow work.

Steve loves moments like this. Early morning, the sun barely out and the world quiet, the bedroom air still and thick from sleep; easy, instinctual fucking; simple and not complicated, just the two of them loving on each other. He inhales a little sharper when Bucky finally slides his hand under the waistband of his underwear. “Yeah,” he whispers.

“Mmhm.” Bucky kisses his neck. “This what you wanted, Honey?” His hand is wrapped flush around Steve now, skin on skin. He strokes once up and down and gives a squeeze, starts up a slow, tight rhythm.

“Oh.” Steve bites his lip, eyes closed as he just feels what Bucky’s doing to him. “Mm. Mmhm. S’real good.” He shivers when Bucky’s thumb swipes at his cockhead, spreading the wetness around and pressing firm against his slit. “Fuck …”

“Always were a leaker,” Bucky says lowly. “You get so wet, Honey.”

“Buck,” Steve whines. He loves Bucky’s talk in bed but he’s never been able to handle it. It turns him into a pitiful mess, every time.

Bucky

Bucky just chuckles, knowing the effect he has on him. He’s Dominant. Winding Steve around his little finger comes naturally to him, and Steve can’t say he doesn’t like it. “You were making pretty sounds in your sleep,” Bucky says, murmuring the words in between kisses on Steve’s neck. “Moaning and moving your hips a little.” He demonstrates, pushing his own hips up against Steve’s ass. Steve makes an embarrassed, whimpery sort of noise that goes straight to Bucky’s cock, and he shushes him. “Shh, no. It was hot, Stevie. You were feeling real good in your sleep, huh?”

“Y-yeah.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Bucky presses his thigh forward, between Steve’s legs, crowding him that much closer. “Hm?”

“Her,” Steve says breathily. “I … h-her.”

“Mary?” Bucky grins against the skin of his neck. “Having dirty dreams about our girl, huh?”

Steve moans—whether at Bucky calling her ‘their girl’, or at the way his other hand is now reaching down to cup Steve’s sac, isn’t clear. Bucky gives a gentle squeeze and tug, then rolls the weight of his testicles in his palm. Steve, who’s always been keen on having his balls played with, moans louder and nods against the pillow. “Didn’t mean to,” he says, as if he needs to defend his character.

Bucky grins like a shark and nips his earlobe. “Course not. You just couldn’t help it, could you? She’s always there, moaning around bites of cream filled pastries, showing off her ass in those leggings—”

Steve groans.

“—Giving us attitude every day like she wants a spanking, but dropping so sweet by the end’a the night.” He can see pink spreading around to the back of Steve’s neck and shoulders now. His Stevie colors so easily. Bucky licks delicately along the shell of his ear and whispers, “Tell me. Tell me what you did to her in the dream.” Steve moans and doesn’t answer for a long while, maybe too distracted by Bucky’s hand that’s still stroking him slowly. Bucky stills, opens his hand and presses Steve’s cock up against his stomach. “Steve,” he warns. “Tell me.”

“... Wasn’t me,” Steve mumbles, embarrassed. “It was you. You were touching her, fucking her.”

Bucky’s guts tighten in arousal. “Oh?” he breathes. “You like thinkin’ about that? Like thinking about me laying her out? Her spreading her legs for me right here on this bed?” Steve groans and nods, whining impatiently and humping forward for more. Bucky chuckles and takes him in hand again, squeezing his shaft and fondling his balls. They’re tighter now, drawn up closer to his body as he gets more worked up. “So?” Bucky needles, when he still hasn’t gotten an answer. “Is that what you want?”

“Bucky, nngh, Yes, alright?”

“Mmhm.” He chuckles softly and nuzzles Steve’s neck, enjoying his husband’s flustered state. “But you know, I think I’d like to watch you.” He can just picture it: Steve’s muscled, strong body moving over her soft curves, his big hands holding her open gently—because everything Steve does is gentle—while he makes her cum on his cock. “Yeah. You like that idea, Big guy? Me too. I wanna watch this big fat dick—” he squeezes his fist on Steve— “plowing her sloppy, making her cum so good she even cries a little bit.” Steve whines again, and Bucky hums in agreement. “Mmhm. It’d be so hot, Stevie.”

Steve squirms against him in distress. “I, I’ve never … With girls I mean. I’m not … I’ve never …” he peters off, and Bucky’s got no idea what he’s saying.

“What?” He frowns and ruts his erection against the cleft of Steve’s ass for a little relief. “What’re you talking about, Baby? You’ve been with women before. College?”

Steve shakes his head against the pillow. “No, I mean I … I don’t know what to do. To make ‘em feel good. I’m … not good at it.”

Bucky actually stops what he’s doing. Steve grunts at the lack of touch, but Bucky just hushes him and pulls on his shoulder, urging him to turn over. “Hey. C’mere. Look at me.” Steve’s face is indeed colored pink when he turns to lie facing Bucky. His eyes flick up briefly, but dart away again, shy. Bucky’s heart squeezes. “Oh, Honey,” he says, bringing a hand up to cup Steve’s jaw. “Who told you that?” He thinks of murdering whatever coed bitch might’ve made Steve feel self-conscious.

Steve looks mortified. “Nobody did. Just … I could tell. The times I was with ‘em. I couldn’t make them, you know, cum.” He looks so ashamed as he admits it, and Bucky wants to grab him and kiss all over his entire face.

“Aw, Steve,” he coos. “Is that it? You’re nervous about being with a woman again? Not confident?”

Steve nods. He tucks himself against Bucky’s body and presses his face in his neck, hiding there. “Women are hard,” he mumbles. “I like ‘em, but it’s not easy.”

Bucky chuckles a little. “Yeah, that’s for sure. But it’s not that bad, baby. You just gotta know a few basics. Gotta take it real slow and feel them out, find out what makes her feel good. Every girl’s different. That’s the beauty in it.”

Steve grunts and ruts up against him, their cocks knocking together between their bellies. “Tell me?” he asks, eager and sweet. “Please, Buck? Tell me how.”

Bucky feels like half the blood leaves his brain, his dick throbbing anew. “Fuck,” he breathes, crazy turned on at the idea. “You want me to teach you, Stevie? Teach you how to get her crying? Dripping wet? How to touch her so good you make her cum?”

Steve shivers and nods, grinding his forehead into Bucky’s shoulder in embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah I want you to. Want you to teach me.”

Bucky pulls Steve’s head up to make him look at him. His face is pinched—embarrassed but wanting. Bucky curses. “Fuck. Yeah, yeah baby I’ll teach you how. C’mere.” He moves up the bed, pulling Steve’s meaty shoulders to get him to follow, directing him to sit in his lap, back to chest as Bucky props them up against the headboard. He spreads his legs wide to accommodate Steve’s bulk, wrapping his arms around him from behind. “My little overachiever,” he murmurs. “Such a Boy Scout, always wanting to be the best you can be.”

Steve huffs. “Don’t think they gave out merits for eating pussy,” he quips, uncharacteristically lewd.

Bucky barks out a laugh in delight. “Well pay attention, Sweetheart. You’re about to earn that badge.” Steve shudders against him, but he’s leaning back against Bucky, slumped just a little lower in his lap. He’s ready to listen, and Bucky’s fucking hot at the chance to tell. “First thing you gotta know,” he says, speaking delicately and smoothing his hands over Steve’s sides. “Is forget what you’ve seen in porn. They make that shit for us, not them. It’s all fake. No better way to make a girl miserable than to go pounding into her or whatever else.”

Steve makes a questioning noise, and God bless him, Bucky knows instantly that this is news to the big dummy. “But …” he hedges.

“No buts, Honey.” Bucky kisses his ear. “You gotta be so gentle. Always start soft, always go slow. Start that way and pay attention to her reactions.” He skims his fingertips up Steve’s ribs, tickling lightly over to his pecs and back down, making him gasp. “Yeah,” Bucky hums, “Just like that. She might be quiet at first, girls don’t moan all loud right off the bat. They don’t get worked up as fast as we do. They take time.”

Steve nods, panting a little as he listens to him. “W-what then?” he asks.

“Listen to her breathing, the sounds she makes. She’ll start breathing heavier when you’ve got her feeling good, start making little sounds without even realizing she’s doin’ it.” Steve looses a tiny whimper and Bucky grins. “Yeah, just like that.” He reaches down and finds Steve’s cock again, and god it’s sexy how wet his fella can get. He strokes him a few times, just languidly, letting the precum guide the slide of his fist. Not hurrying. Showing Steve what he means when he says ‘slow’.

“Oh,” Steve breathes, sounding gone for it.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “And then when she starts moving her hips?” He presses his crotch into the small of Steve’s back. “Just rubbing herself against you or humping up in the air a little? Oh yeah, that’s when she’s into it.” He brings one hand up to cradle Steve’s pec. “Girls are more sensitive here than we are,” he tells him. He’s looking over Steve’s shoulder now, eyeing up what he’s doing. He flicks his thumb over the nipple—so freaking small and petal pink where Bucky’s are darker. And he’s so responsive, the nipple pebbling up with hardly any effort on Bucky’s part. “Mmhm,” Bucky hums approvingly. “You want to try different things. You can just hold ‘em …” he uses both hands and cups the meat of Steve’s chest, giving a proprietary squeeze. Steve moans and Bucky smiles. “Yeah. But not too hard. Treat her tits like they’re something delicate, somethin’ special.” He makes the motion to Steve’s pecs like he would do to lightly bounce a woman’s breasts in his palms. “And Mary, she’s got smaller tits. A nice, healthy handful, just like you.”

Steve whines and squirms impatiently in his lap. Bucky glances down to check, and sees Steve’s cock; abandoned on his stomach, dark, and leaking. It’s so heavy and thick, the foreskin drawn halfway down the head, showcasing the shiny pink tip of him. Bucky curses softly. Fuck, but he wants to wring an orgasm out of that cock like ten minutes ago. But he forces himself to stay the course.

“When you use your mouth on her nipples,” he whispers, voice soft like velvet in Steve’s ear, “You can lick. Or nibble a little.” He mimics each option with a stroke and then a pinch of his fingers on Steve’s nipples, flicking out with his tongue to get the shell of Steve’s ear. “But I’ll tell you what: most of ‘em like it best when you suck.” He uses all five fingertips drawn together to pull gently at the peaks of Steve’s chest, and Steve makes a hurt, wanting sound. “Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “Suck her nipples. Then fit as much of her in your mouth as you can and suck that too.” He takes pity on Steve and reaches back down for his cock. Steve cries out, and Bucky gentles him. “Shh sh sh. Remember: slow.”

Steve groans, his tight hips flexing and pushing his cock up into the curl of Bucky’s fist. “Buck, please.”

“It’s not about you,” Bucky chides. “You’re a man. You get to cum so easy and all the time. You gotta help her get there, give her what she deserves.”

Steve sobs a little, so worked up from all the teasing, but he falls back into Bucky, relaxing against his chest and laying himself open for Bucky to continue. Pride and adoration for his man well up in Bucky at the show of submission. “Good,” he praises, giving an extra indulgent twist on the next upstroke. Steve’s foreskin moves with the motions, making soft, wet noises with all the precum he’s leaking. Bucky hums appreciatively. “Yeah, lookit that.” He draws his hand all the way up, tight, and then dips his thumb into the folds, rubbing into that wetness, against the sensitive head. “If you’re doing it right, touching her enough, she’ll be wet by now,” he says. “But you still shouldn’t go for her pussy yet. Not yet.”

“What … what else?” Steve asks muzzily, like he can’t think of anything else to do that doesn’t involve his dick getting jerked off or sticking it in a hypothetical pussy.

“Tease her,” Bucky says. “Run your hands all over her body, all over her soft skin.”

Steve sighs happily. “I like how soft they are. Smooth.”

Hearing Steve talk about what he likes about women makes Bucky’s dick throb, and he grinds it against Steve’s lower back for some relief. “Mmhm,” he agrees, moving his hands up and down the skin of Steve’s ribcage, his belly, grabbing on at his hips and giving a proprietary jostle. “Dig your fingers into her, gentle but insistent. Let her feel how much you love her body.”

“Now?” Steve asks.

“Not yet,” Bucky whispers.

“Fuck. Bucky.”

“Tease her,” he insists, ignoring Steve’s pleading. He slides his hands down Steve’s thighs and inwards, pulling them apart. Steve moans and spreads them wide. “Exactly,” Bucky says. “You want to touch her here. Run your hands all over, so close to where she wants it. Remember, if you’ve been doing this right, she’ll be wet by now.” He goes back and strokes the wetness along Steve’s shaft. “Sink down between her legs and kiss her thighs—you’ll smell it.”

“Oh my god.”

Bucky smiles, in love with his husband for how easily he comes apart under his care. He traces down to the base of Steve’s cock, making a vee with two fingers and rubbing the skin on either side. “Put pressure on her mound, really close but not touching where she wants it. Not yet.” His other hand slides down and delicately traces the seam of Steve’s sac. “Tease her, trace her folds. Get a little bit of that wetness and rub it around to make her even more sensitive. And then …” He blows gently on Steve’s ear. Steve moans. “Just like that. You want to wait. Don’t give her your mouth until she’s whining and shovin’ up at you for it.”

“Nngh,”

Bucky chuckles and circles the wet pad of his finger over one testicle and then the other. He nudges at Steve’s taut sac and whispers in his ear. “Push her lips apart.”

Steve is breathing hard through his nose, tense, his dick bobbing rock hard and angry in the air. Bucky has mercy on him and reaches for it, and Steve chokes out a sob of relief at only the slightest touch.

Bucky kisses his temple soothingly. “Shh. Here. Riiight here.” He holds the head between his thumb and fingers and starts jacking just the tip of him, foreskin tugging and gliding in that way that he knows feels amazing for Steve. “Right above her sweet spot, see? You rub on her like this, up and down, back and forth. Work the hood over her clit juuust like this.”

Steve makes a debased groan at the echo of what Bucky’s saying, and how he’s working Steve’s foreskin over the head of his dick. “Fuck, fuck,” he hisses.

“Yeah, you’re close. She’s soaked by now. You think it’s time to give her more?”

“Bucky. Yes, yes, please.” His hips are straining upwards but he lets his head loll back on Bucky’s shoulder, open for what he’ll do next. “Please,” he begs.

“Now this is important, baby, so pay attention,” Bucky says. “Some women like a mouth on ‘em down there, some don’t. Some do, but they have a hang up over how they think they look or taste or something.” Steve makes a sad noise at that, matching Bucky’s opinion that: yeah, women shouldn’t worry so much. Pussy is just generally fucking awesome. “Tell her how much you love it,” he says. “The taste of her, the shape of her lips. Make her feel pretty and wanted.” He’s fondling Steve’s balls anew as he says this, rubbing and rolling them, then cupping his whole palm over them and dipping behind to dig fingertips into his taint. “Come on, Stevie,” he goads, “Let me hear it. Tell me what you’d say.”

It takes Steve a few tries before he can pull enough of his brain out of his dick to rasp, “S’fucking gorgeous p-pussy. So … so wet. Can I lick it Honey, huh? Please lemme lick it. Wanna taste that sweet cunt.”

Bucky gasps, shocked and delighted at Steve’s dirty talk. “Oh, Stevie,” he groans. “Baby. Fuck, yes. I didn’t know you had it in you.” He wraps his hand fully around Steve’s cock and starts jerking him off fast, fast enough that it’s obvious he’s finally aiming to make Steve cum, and Steve chokes on a relieved heave of breath.

"Yes! Oh, thank you!”

Bucky attacks Steve’s neck with his mouth, biting and smearing spit and scraping his teeth over the wet skin. He growls as he watches his fist working furiously over Steve's red, hard dick. “Suck her clit while you fuck her on your fingers,” he rasps. “Tell her she’s a good girl, tell her to ride your face, grind down on your hand. Make sure she knows she’s allowed to let go.”

Steve cries out, guttural and loud like he always gets when his pleasure is cresting. “Bucky, Buck. Honey, oh. F-fuck, m’close.”

“Mmhm. Thaat’s it, Princess,” he says, pitching his voice just so and using that name so that Steve knows. Knows he’s talking to her.

Steve whines, his whole body tight and straining into Bucky’s grip.

“Curl your fucking fingers in her,” Bucky growls. “She’s close. Don’t slow down. Don’t even speed up. She likes what you’re doing now, so don’t you dare fucking change a thing.”

“Bucky!”

“That’s it, Princess, just like that. You’re almost there.”

“Fuck, fuck … ssshit …”

“Ride Daddy’s hand, fuck back on it. Good girl.”

Steve jerks and shouts, cock pulsing in telltale contractions, before searing ropes of come shoot up his stomach and all over Bucky’s hand. “Oh, oh, oh!” He grunts through it with gorgeous sounds, and Bucky’s so in love with the sight of it that he’s not roleplaying anymore when he purrs, “Fucking beautiful, Sweetheart.”

Steve slumps when it’s over, still panting from the pleasure. Bucky eases off, sets his wet and slowly softening dick gently against his stomach. He moves them, guiding Steve to turn over and lie out on his front. He shoves Steve’s legs together and straddles them, swipes his hand that’s covered in Steve’s release into the tight space between his thighs, wetting him up. He growls viciously, pent up and rock hard and ready to fucking cum. He ruts into the wet clench of Steve’s thick thighs, fucking him like he’s got a loose, easy cunt. “Fuck, baby,” he grits, close within a matter of minutes. He chases his orgasm and collapses onto Steve’s broad back when it hits, grinding in hard one last time and shouting loud and guttural with how goddamn good it feels. “Fuck! Ughn, f-ffuuck.”

He comes down heaving, panting against Steve’s skin. Steve is strong enough that he can roll out from under his weight, and he pulls Bucky into his arms and draws his head onto his chest. Bucky goes gratefully, happy to have Steve’s firm pecs as a pillow. “God, honey,” he breathes, wrung out. Steve makes a noise of agreement. They just lie there together, sweaty and spent, catching their breath for a long time.

“... Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“… You’re a good teacher.”

Bucky laughs and crawls up to kiss Steve on the mouth. “Yeah,” he says when they part. “But that wasn’t even the main event.” Steve looks confused for a second, before Bucky slyly clarifies: “You still gotta fuck her. And you know you want to make her cum at least twice.”

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simmerandwrite · 1 year

Text

Lower the Stakes [05] - Enter Alpine

Summary: Bucky Barnes still isn’t sure of his place in the world. For Haley Fisher, making new friends has always felt like a challenge. Though getting a second chance at life gave her the opportunity to reinvent herself and determine where she fit into the world again. It’s time to shift the expectations and determine what she really wants. How does that old classic go? ‘I get by with a little help from my friends.’

(Aka the post Falcon and the Winter soldier friends-to-lovers mini series no one asked for, featuring one ‘grumpy but warming up’ centenarian and one ‘coming into her own’ plus sized original character!) Ready the pre-story here

Chapter summary: Bucky adopts a cat, Haley pretends she doesn't have the flu. Everything is fine. (:

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x plus size original character

Word count: 5k

Parts: Part 01 Part 02 Part 03 Part 04 Part 05 Part 06 Part 07

Notes/warnings: brief mentions of body shaming Haven’t updated this one since August and I’m sorry! It’s a bit of a backburner project but I’m happy to have you here This chapter is mostly told from Bucky’s POV. if you see me out interacting in the wild, it’ll be under @simmerandcry

---

Bucky didn’t consider himself an impulsive person. Not now, at least. Perhaps before, a long time ago, he might have been a lot less careful when it came to his decision making. But after years of strict rule following in the army, and even more torturous reprimands for breaking any rules while being brainwashed into The Winter Soldier, being cautious of every move he made became a nasty habit.

A habit he was trying to break, in some ways.

Like not thinking through every single thing he did and the ripple effect it might have on his future actions. He wanted to start considering immediate gratifications and long term impacts of things, too. But he didn’t want to always take a long time to get there.

Enter Alpine.

All it took was one glance at the stray kitten - who someone at the airstrip had found hiding out in one of the storage sheds - and Bucky knew he couldn’t leave her behind. And although Sam had protested the whole idea as they got onto the plane, the minute the small animal curled up into the crook of his arm, Bucky was set on his own decision.

Now here Bucky and Sam were - back in Bucky’s apartment in New York, getting it ready for life with a cat. Bucky had been a bit heavy handed once they got to the pet store but when he saw the little white furball traipsing through his living room, bounding up her the new cat tree they had built, he felt settled by the entire thing.

And much to Bucky’s surprise, Sam has been more than helpful. Sure, he teased Bucky throughout the whole process but Sam had taken a lot of the anxiety off Bucky when it came to his decision making. Sam had even come back to the city with him before heading home to New Orleans, choosing to spend the night on Bucky’s couch.

While Sam took to the shower, Bucky was sitting cross legged on the floor of his living room, tossing a few balls and toys towards his new companion. When a knock at the door sounded out, a frown grew on his face as the cat ran underneath his couch.

Reluctantly, Bucky stood and slowly headed towards his door. When he opened it and saw Haley standing there, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey,” she started quickly with a little wave. “I sent you a message but I wasn’t sure if you were home. Figured I might just knock and see, since I was in the neighbourhood. I guess I could have called..”

“I just got back this afternoon,” Bucky answered as he ushered her in. “And I never check my voicemails anyway. You alright?”

“Oh yeah. Actually a friend of mine - her cousin is playing a little show at this bar a few blocks from here so I wanted to see if you wanted to come and..” Haley cut herself off and glanced around his living room and kitchen. “Did you get a cat?”

Bucky grinned, eyebrow raised as he glanced around. “What tipped you off?” Stepping forward a few feet, he made a small cooing noise to try and get his new roommate out of hiding. “There she is - Haley, meet Alpine.”

Haley was quick to crouch down, extending her hand out as Alpine approached. “She’s so beautiful.”

As she acquainted herself with the cat, Bucky motioned a hand across the apartment. “And while you’re here...” Bucky had heard the shower turn off before Haley came in. And by the pace of his footsteps.. “I guess I should introduce you to Sam, too.”

Haley turned her head to look towards the small hallway across the apartment, mouth dropping into a small surprised face when she saw Sam enter the room. She rushed to stand up again, “Wow, Captain America in the flesh. Honestly, I sort of assumed Bucky was just making up all his stories about you.”

Sam grinned, eyes rolling as he made his way into the living room. “And you must be Haley. I could say the same thing.”

Haley smiled back at Bucky. “Two real examples of non-imaginary friends.”

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Bucky narrowed his eyes and glanced between them both. He would be lying if he hadn’t tried to calculate what this moment might look like - although he had hoped it would have been in a more controlled environment.

What was Bucky so worried about? Sam, down to his core, exuded both confidence and kindness, and paired with extensive PR training and his years of time with Veterans’ Affairs, he could keep a conversation with anyone. Haley, on the other hand, certainly came across a lot more introverted. She came across a lot more reserved, just like Bucky himself, and it had taken a while for them both to let their guards down.

Bucky hoped that introducing his friends wouldn’t impact the progress they had made so far.

And it only took minutes for Sam and Haley to sort themselves out enough to dive into a conversation. The most unsurprising thing, even, was that Bucky ended up as the outside person in the room. He kept his attention on Alpine, who had become very acquainted with Haley’s lap as she sat on the floor.

It was unimaginably cute to see Alpine’s soft little body curled up against Haley.

“So, what do you think, Buck?” Sam’s question pulled Bucky’s gaze away from Haley’s legs. Bucky had dropped down onto the couch across from them and he narrowed his eyes, unable to figure out what Sam was asking him.

“My friend at work, Dani, her cousin plays guitar in a Fleetwood Mac cover band,” Haley jumped in, noticing Bucky’s confusion immediately. “It’s a little bar, I’m sure it’ll be a small crowd.”

Sam motioned to the sleeping cat. “I’m sure she’ll be okay for a few hours to sleep and explore this place.”

Bucky hesitated. He supposed Sam was right - cats were independent creatures and Alpine likely could use a bit of time to herself to get used to his apartment. “I don’t know that band.”

Sam scoffed, eyes rolling as he stood up. “Of course you don’t.”

Haley offered Bucky a playful smile. “You’re going to love Fleetwood Mac.”

---

Bucky already felt like a terrible cat parent. When he first adopted Alpine, he had every intention for her to be his adventure cat, his partner in crime - wanting to bring her out on trips anytime the opportunity presented itself. But now, after only a month, he was already hitting a snag.

Sam had invited him visit and strategize in Delacroix and Bucky knew he always had a bed at the Wilson homestead. But AJ had a bad cat allergy and Sarah had to put a hard ‘no’ on Bucky bringing Alpine until they could get him on some regular medication.

And now Bucky was once again grateful for Haley. He owed her a lot for deciding to take Apine in for the week Bucky was gone.

“Listen, I appreciate any opportunity where I can work from home a few more days during the week. I mean I have to go into the office Wednesday and Friday for a bit but hopefully by then she’ll be okay on her own.. And maybe it’ll inspire me to adopt a cat, too.”

Bucky sure hoped his continuous chorus of thank yous, plus giving Haley a giftcard for her favourite coffee shop, would express his sentiment enough.

The day he was leaving for Louisiana, he packed up everything Alpine would need for her stay at Haley’s and made his way to her apartment. He felt silly, at first, travelling with Alpine in a special carrier backpack but her happy mewls really solidified he had made the right investment.

Haley welcomed them both in with a smile, excitedly explaining how she had temporarily adapted her apartment for Alpine’s stay.

“I made that little corner area totally open for her box, I read that cats can be strangely territorial when in a new place so hopefully this works for her,” Haley said after shutting the door behind them, crouching down to join Bucky as he carefully put down his supplies and shrugged off the carrier. “I cleaned under my bed and in my closet too, in case she hides away. One website said..”

Bucky turned his head and caught Haley’s gaze. “You did some research about this?”

“I just don’t want you to worry, I guess.” Haley shrugged, failing to hide her embarrassment.

Bucky immediately felt guilty about making her feel bad about any of it. “No, no. I really.. I appreciate it a lot, Hales. I’m sure she’ll do great here with you”

They both stilled as Alpine let out a quiet meow, cautiously making her way out of the carrier and sniffing the rug she had been placed down on. Bucky shifted forward, extending his hand out to give her a comforting scratch behind the ears but the quick movement was already too much - and Alpine was off, quickly scurrying away and finding a place to hide underneath Haley’s coffee table.

Bucky sighed.

“Hey,” Haley sat back on her knees and squeezed his shoulder. “Try not to worry, okay? I promise she’s in good hands.”

---

“Hey! Sorry, I meant you could call me anytime - it didn’t have to be – are you outside?”

“I just finished a run. Is it a bad time?”

“No, no. Looks nice there!”

“A lot of fresh air and trees. Sam says it’s good for the soul.”

“He’s right. Anyway - here, let me turn my video around. Look! Your daughter’s new favourite place to nap - above my kitchen cabinets.”

“Alpine, you daredevil.”

“I am a tiny bit concerned she’ll try to leap up on the bookcase next.”

“Good thing we anchored those to the walls.”

“She’s been an angel otherwise, minus her late night running. How has your week been though? Relaxing, I hope..”

---

Haley (8:05PM): bad news Haley (8:05PM): your daughter may be a future arsonist Bucky (8:09PM): ??? Haley (8:11PM): all I wanted was a nice calm relaxing bath but apparently candles are not kitten proof Haley (8:11PM): I promise she still has all her whiskers Haley (8:15PM): [IMG_3399]

Bucky’s eyes blew wide open as he loaded the photo Haley had sent him. They had been in touch all week as she provided updates about Alpine, which were mostly positive outside of a plant that didn’t survive a fall from Haley’s window ledge.

And Bucky would be lying if he didn’t admit to how much he enjoyed the little updates and check-ins about how his trip was going. He had even sent Haley a selfie of his own, plus a picture of Sam laying on the ground, flipping off Bucky’s camera, after some training had gone awry.

This photo though, of Alpine sitting on the outside of Haley’s bathtub, felt a bit different. Sure, the main focus of the camera was definitely not supposed to be the exposed parts of Haley’s legs in the water, surrounded by soft bubbles and the light coming from candles sitting precariously on the outside ledge. Bucky was supposed to be looking at his little trouble maker of a cat, who was in the middle of extending a paw to swipe the flickering flame from one of the candles.

Yes, he was definitely looking at Alpine and not immediately thinking about Haley’s legs.

“Sarah?” Bucky finally glanced up from his phone, pushing his tongue across his lips as he searched for a second opinion. “I’ve got a real world question for you. About dating and, uh, women.”

One of Bucky’s favourite parts of their evenings in Delacroix was after dinner, when he and Sarah and sometimes Sam, took to the porch. Sometimes they’d chat, other times they’d read in silence together. This time was the latter.

Bucky looked over from his chair and caught Sarah’s curious eyebrow raise as she put her book down. Bucky was grateful Sam was inside watching a movie with his nephews at that moment.

“Oh, I love these.” Sarah moved slightly in her own seat on the porch swing, adjusting the blanket and folding her hands in her lap. “Go ahead.”

Bucky rubbed his jaw, glanced at his phone one more time then brought his attention back to Sarah. “It’s Haley related.”

Sarah nodded, doing her best to remain neutral although they had talked about Bucky’s friend before. “Sure, Haley - your friend with whom your friendship is completely platonic. Right.”

“She just sent me a photo of Alpine but she was in it too, in her bathtub.”

“In her bathtub?” Sarah repeated, making sure she heard that properly. “Like, in a bath. Naked.”

“Yeah.” When Sarah’s eyebrows went up, Bucky backtracked. “No, not like that. It was just her legs. But does that mean something?”

Sarah let out a long breath, tipping her head from side to side as she thought. “Well, I’m not much for sending photos to any man. Because ya’ll never deserve it. But, I don’t know. Is your conversation ever flirty?”

“I have no idea,” Bucky rolled his eyes, reaching for his phone and scrolling through his conversation with Haley. It was always friendly, if a little sparse on his side of things. Although he would admit that the last week since he’d been gone, they’d talked a lot more. And sometimes late at night. But what made a conversation flirty? The time it occurred? The tone?

“Listen, I don’t know Haley. But she could have probably sent that photo without her legs.. That’s all I’m saying. Maybe she’s testing the waters, to see how you’ll react.”

“And how am I supposed to react?”

“You tell me,” Sarah tipped her head to the side and studied him for another moment. “Are you interested in her that way? Do you have feelings for her?”

He tossed his phone onto the small table beside him and sighed. “I.. I don’t know.” Rediscovering his emotions had been a huge learning curve and it was still an ongoing struggle. Every single part of his being had been suppressed without his consent for decades and even now sometimes Bucky couldn’t tell the difference between what frustration felt like and what rage felt like. His spectrum was nearly impossible to understand on his best days and when he let himself even consider some of his feelings, it was an easy spiral into a lot of very dark thoughts. “I really don’t know.”

“If you were any other person in the world, I wouldn’t believe that for a second.” Sarah reached her hand across to grab one of his, giving him a gentle squeeze. “But I can’t imagine these things are fun to sort through for you. Maybe you just need to sit with it.”

“Haley is..” Bucky shook his head, indulging in the comforting touch from Sarah. “She’s one of my closest friends. That’s, uhm, important to me. Really important.”

Sarah let out a quiet laugh and nodded, squeezing his hand once more before releasing it. “Joel.. my Joel, we were friends first. For a long time before we figured it out. Sit with it, Bucky.”

---

Bucky was trying to ignore the pang of disappointment in his stomach when he headed to Haley’s. Given that she hadn’t responded to any of his messages, he assumed she wasn’t home and he’d be letting himself in to retrieve Alpine.

It was strange - when he left for New Orleans, he hadn’t anticipated so much time to reflect. Despite Sam telling him it was supposed to be a vacation, Bucky hadn’t been prepared for free time with all his thoughts. But now, coming back to the city, he felt he had a changed perspective. His late night discussions with Sarah had been both beneficial and a bit of a hindrance, too.

He was really looking forward to catching up with Haley, though - that he knew for sure.

Using the key she had given him, Bucky let himself into her apartment building and headed upstairs. He checked his phone once more and sent her a quick message that he was letting himself in. He followed up with an additional ‘thank you’ text as he twisted the key into her apartment door.

A strange comfort came over him as he walked into Haley’s home. It felt so familiar in a way and he vowed to let himself unpack just what that meant. As the door shut behind him, he peered around the living room, searching for his cat.

Bucky let out a low whistle. “Alpine?”

His eyes darted around the room - he had assumed Haley was at work, but seeing her laptop closed on the kitchen island and a leftover cup of tea on the counter, sitting beside her phone, clearly he had assumed incorrectly.

When he spotted Alpine mewling outside the bathroom door, his feeling of comfort quickly switched to something more awkward. Maybe he shouldn’t have just walked in without confirming she was home, especially if she was going to come out of the bathroom and just see him and -

He stopped his train of thoughts. There was no light on in the bathroom. And was that whimpering? It sounded… painful.

“Haley?” He took a step closer towards the door, taking in a sharp breath as he peered inside. “Jesus - Haley!”

He tried not to think the worst and prayed he wasn’t overstepping when it came to her privacy as he rushed towards her. Inside the bathroom, under the broken stream of sunlight coming in from the rest of the apartment, he found Haley curled up on the ground in a pair of leggings and a big sweatshirt. Halfway between her toilet and bathtub, she had a towel folded up under her head and half of a blanket draped over her body. The other part of her comforter was resting inside the bathtub.

“Hales - what’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Bucky crouched down, politely encouraging Alpine to stay outside the doorway. As was a given for most New York apartments, the bathroom was cramped. He extended out his hand and placed it gently on Haley’s shin.

“My whole body hurts..” Her voice was barely audible. “I think maybe… there’s this flu going around the office and..”

He sucked in a breath. “Shit. Okay. Are you throwing up? Is that why you’ve made a bed on the floor here?”

Haley just shrugged in response, eyes closed tight. “I did, once. Tried to wash my comforter, sort of just stayed here..”

Bucky took a very brief moment to pause, dragging his hand across his jaw before taking action. When he considered his scrambled memories of the past, suddenly something came forward that hadn’t crossed his mind in years.

Steve, his Steve. Curled up in bed, with faulty lungs and an immune system working against him. The same sting took over in his heart as he watched Haley, suffering alone and if he could place a bet, any moment she was going to dismiss him again and -

“Bucky, I’m fine.” He watched as she slowly pushed herself up to sit, leaning her back against the side of her bathtub. “I think I just need to ride this out..”

“Haley,” Bucky shuffled forward, just barely, scanning over her drooping eyelids. Hesitantly, he reached out a hand to press against her forehead. Shit. “You’re burning hot.”

Way too hot.

“I’ll be fine,” she repeated quietly, bringing her hand up to reach for her throat. “Feels sort of like..a knife..”

Okay, Bucky needed to act much more quickly now. “C’mon, maybe we need to go to urgent care or-”

“No, no.” She shook her head, pushing Bucky’s hands away. “I don’t need that.”

“Haley, if your fever is-”

“My deductible is huge. And urgent care is for emergencies.. I’m fine.” Her head lolled to the side and Bucky didn’t hide his baffled laughter.

He sat back on his knees. “How long have you had a fever?”

“Since this morningish.” She shrugged but raised a hand gingerly, motioning to her bathroom counter. “I think it’s getting better..”

Reluctantly Bucky took his eyes off her and sat up enough to see what she was pointing at. On top of her sink sat a scrap of paper, alongside a pen and thermometer. Of course Haley had been diligently tracking her own fever. He sighed, scanning over the numbers she had written down hourly. She never got to a critical temperature but that didn’t make him feel any better about her current state.

“Have you taken anything?” Bucky continued as he rinsed off her thermometer, turning to her again and waiting while she answered.

“Tylenol, a few hours ago. Don’t have any left..”

Bucky nodded then proceeded to urge the thermometer under her tongue, despite her ongoing dismissals that she was okay and he didn’t need to stay.

He took in another long breath as it beeped, displaying a number that wasn’t any higher than she had written down earlier. He extended his left hand out and brushed it across her forehead, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as she let out a relieved whimper at the cool touch.

“Bucky..” Haley closed her eyes and took a deep breath, or tried to. “You don’t have to do this, okay? I’ll be okay by tomorrow.”

He tried to stop his annoyed huff from escaping but Bucky felt his patience dwindling. “Why are you pushing me away? I’m trying to help.”

She squeaked out a laugh. “I called Alex and he sent me to voicemail. And god, when I called my mom - she told me..”

“Hales, look at me.”

Haley opened one of her eyes, swallowing hard. “Okay..”

“You’ve gotta let me take care of you. Please. I’m on my knees here, begging. I want to help.”

---

Haley felt it coming on all week. The fatigue had crept up slowly, the growing aches throughout her body much quicker. And by that Friday morning, it was as if she had been hit by a freight train.

After her early morning team meeting, her teammate Lindsay had messaged her and immediately told her to log off because Haley ‘looked like shit’. Which, although a bit too aggressive for Haley’s liking, did help her turn her computer off quickly. And then she mostly just slept, hot then cold, cold, cold. She tried to sip on tea but it had been difficult to finish, with her sleepy eyes and sore throat.

Alpine, cute as a button, had stayed by her side the whole time. Haley had appreciated having the feline as company all week and giving Bucky updates had been fun and almost flirty at times, too. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure what to do about that and her growing, conflicting feelings so she kept them at bay as much as possible.

She had been fully planning on being at work in the office when Bucky came to collect his fluffy white child, too. Instead, though, she was struggling to stay awake and upright and couldn’t even imagine Bucky seeing her in that state.

And then, well, he went ahead and showed up at her apartment. She couldn’t fault him, of course. He had returned from his New Orleans trip and had every right to come collect his cat, especially because he assumed Haley was going to be at work. She just wished he hadn’t showed up after she had decided to make basecamp in her bathroom while trying to clean up her comforter.

But when Bucky offered to take care of her, Haley thought she’d be overwhelmed with shame and embarrassment. Instead though, a rush of good feelings washed over her instead. Safety, comfort, protection.

Before she could even keep trying to protest, Bucky had helped her up off the floor and immediately ushered her back to bed. He pulled the soft blankets off her couch and tucked her beneath them, with a cold cloth resting against her forehead.

“I’m going to run to the pharmacy, okay? I’ll be right back.” Bucky left her phone on the side table, urging her to call him if she needed anything. Alpine curled up against Haley’s legs.

“Keep an eye on her, okay Al?”

Haley dozed off quickly after he departed and it seemed like barely a moment had passed before he was back in her bedroom, stirring her awake with a sea of apologies. He had returned to her with an overflowing bag of supplies, rattling on quietly about all the things the pharmacist had recommended.

After she swallowed down a few pills and shed a few additional tears choking on a disgusting syrupy formula, Bucky left her to sleep once more, not before replacing her cloth with a refreshing cold compress.

“Just rest, Hales. You’ll feel better soon, I promise..”

Thankfully, whatever combination Bucky had administered to her had knocked Haley out - and it seemed like her body really needed it. When she finally woke up again, her head did not feel as heavy and swallowing already felt like a much more normal task. As she sat up in bed, she glanced around the room. It was dark - her curtains were still open and the city lights were spilling in. Across the room, the French doors separating her bedroom from the rest of her apartment were cracked open. Her living room lamps were glowing and she could hear some quiet footsteps coming towards her.

Bucky appeared at the door, pushing one side open gently. “Hey - you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Haley nodded, barely. “You.. you stayed.”

“Of course I stayed.” In a few strides he came in and took a cautious seat at the end of her bed. There was a kitchen towel resting on his shoulder. It made Haley’s chest swirl.

“I’m feeling better, I think.” She shrugged, desperately trying to dismiss the rush of domestic thoughts coming to her mind. “I think I have like ten percent of my energy back.”

A slow relieved sigh escaped Bucky’s lips. “I’m happy to hear that. Apparently this flu has been going around and really doing numbers on people, says the pharmacist I talked to earlier at least. They said by around 48 hours you should be –”

“Wait, Bucky. I’m probably contagious - are you okay with that? I might have immediately passed along my germs and..”

“I was cursed with a very good immune system,” he said simply, resting his hand on her leg. “Don’t worry about me.”

Her lips curled into a small smile. “I think I want to try and have a shower.”

Bucky waited and made sure she could get herself out of bed without collapsing then let her continue on her own, though he did awkwardly offer his assistance if she might need it. Haley tried to ignore whatever that might mean, instead just indulging in the warm water and letting the stream drown out the rest of her thoughts.

God, what a week it had been. She wasn’t entirely sure what had flipped the switch in her but it seemed that all of a sudden, Bucky’s presence in her life was causing her heart to stir. If she had to pinpoint the catalyst, she could blame it on Dani, her closest friend from work. Ever since Haley had brought Sam and Bucky out to the bar weeks ago, Dani had been in her ear about Haley’s friendship with Bucky. And when Dani found out they technically met on a weird non-date at the bar, she had even more questions that Haley couldn’t answer.

Bucky was her best friend, was all Haley could insist. And she tried so hard to leave it at that.

Then, well, this whole flu thing had happened and it was mucking everything up. Haley wasn’t mad Bucky was taking care of her - in fact, she was grateful. But it wasn’t making anything clearer for her.

When she got out of the shower and had changed into a fresh pair of pajamas, Haley finally emerged from the bathroom and found Bucky working in her kitchen. He was standing at the stove, singing something quietly to himself as he stirred a pot of - was that soup?

“Sarah sent me her healing chicken soup recipe - apparently it’s a cure for most ailments,” Bucky rolled his eyes but couldn’t mask his smirk. “If you think you could eat something.”

“I could try,” Haley nodded, sliding into one of the stools at her small island. She sipped the warm broth mostly, indulging in the fresh ginger taste and feeling almost excited that her appetite was slowly returning.

Bucky leaned forward across from her, studying her before pressing a palm against her forehead. “I think maybe your fever broke.”

Haley smirked. “See? I told you I’d be okay.”

“Yeah, yeah. Finish your soup, Fisher.”

---

After they ate, Bucky suggested watching a movie but Haley argued she wouldn’t be able to focus. She still felt tired but was fighting it off. Instead, they just set up camp on the couch.

Alpine perched at the window between the bookcases, watching the world below. Bucky retrieved Haley’s now clean comforter from the dryer down the hall and returned the other blankets to the couch, then dropped onto it.

It happened so organically - the way Haley grabbed the closest pillow from the couch and placed it against Bucky’s hip, laying down and resting her head in his lap as she pulled a blanket over her body. Bucky didn’t question it. And when he adjusted his arm, reaching out to rest it against her side then moving up to run his fingers through her hair, there was no protest from Haley.

Haley relaxed. Bucky settled.

They sat together, quiet. Eventually, Bucky picked up the book he had been reading and used one hand to prop it open and flip through the pages while Haley rested.

When her breathing picked up and he heard a quiet sniffle, Bucky stilled. “Hales?”

“I called my mom earlier. Because when you’re sick, you just want someone to help, right? I figured my mom would.. I know she doesn’t live here but god forbid she tries and offers me comfort. Do you know what she told me?” Haley choked out a laugh, pressing herself further against Bucky. “She said to look on the bright side, because the last time she had a stomach bug she lost eight and a half pounds.”

Bucky’s hand clamped around the book as he took in a sharp breath. “Haley, I’ve gotta say it - your mom sounds really unpleasant.”

Haley reached her arm up and clutched onto Bucky’s leg. “Yeah, that’s a fair descriptor. Her idea of what makes someone valuable though.. I don’t know, it’s pretty broken. I know she loves me but sometimes it feels like she’d like me more if I was.. less.”

Bucky moved his hand from the crown of Haley’s head to rub her back. “You don’t deserve that.” The longer it took Haley to reply, the more anxious Bucky grew. And then, he felt her let out a long breath.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Bucky.”

Bucky let his hand draw circles and shapes against Haley’s back until she fell asleep on him, although he worried she’d wake up with a kink in her neck. Selfishly, he didn’t want to encourage her back to bed - because he liked the warmth of her presence, of her body at his side.

It was dangerous territory - the way an unexpected sense of intimacy had taken over their moment. But Bucky was putting into practice what Sarah had suggested, sitting with his feelings, trying to figure them out.

He had an answer now to Sarah’s big question. Did he have feelings for Haley? Yes. But what made it even worse is that he had no fucking clue what to do about it.

---

thank you again for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts if you enjoyed this chapter. up next: adventures in online dating, again.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x original character #bucky fanfiction #bucky x female oc #marvel fanfiction #bucky fanfic #plus size character #story: lower the stakes

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cagedthewicked · 15 days

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Dinner and a movie

pairing: kristofferson x bucky (it is all i’m good for honestly)

warnings: mentions of sex/sexual themes overall (nothing happens, it’s just talked about), james being self conscious, angst but not really??

this originally had a different plan. somehow it took on a mind of its own and became this. i really do like this though regardless. i think it’s sweet in its own way :) i’m also still figuring out how formatting works, so sorry if it is a little wonky

(i finished writing this at like four am, and donot like editing this oneshots because i am lazy & wrote this whole thing on my phone. so i apologize for spelling errors and anything along those lines.)

“James, what is this—” Kristofferson started as James continued to guide him blindly down the pathway. The blindfolded over his eyes that James insisted he put on making him see nothing but darkness, and the occasional blocked out light. Having to rely on only his hearing and trusting that James wouldn’t walk him into a wall.

“We’re almost there. Stop complaining.” James cuts him off, his tone more playful than annoyed.

Normally, the playfulness in his words would make Kristofferson crack a thin smile and send his heart into a quick flutter, but it just makes him worried.

James has been off as of late. Something was going on with him that Kristofferson couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He assumed that they were doing well. They had no reason not to be.

They had fallen into the routine of James coming by every Sunday, and them sending the day together until early Saturday morning.

Nothing ever happened during those times. The most that did was on occasion James would stretch his arm over with a, clearly very fake, yawn to rest it on the back of James’ couch to be behind Kristofferson’s back. Kris would glance over at him confused, and James look back at him with a small cocky grin.

Lately though, James was becoming more bold in his approach.

Scooting in closer to Kris’ side of the couch, having outer thigh against outer thigh. Toying with the hem his shirt with his metal hand, sending a shiver down Kris’ spine when the cool metal brushed against his skin.

It was obvious he wanted something.

Kristofferson knew what he wanted.

He was being extremely obviously about it, but even if that wasn’t the case, he could still pick up on those things. He did before the whole, “James’ version of teasing but not really teasing because he won’t actually touch Kris”, thing started.

The most obvious time that stuck out in Kristofferson’s mind when he started to piece all the pieces together was when they were cuddling in James’ bed, watching ‘Fight Club’ because James hadn’t seen it.

Kristofferson barely shifted his hips, not even realizing that he had done it until James suddenly pulled away from him. Putting as much distance between the two of them that he could in the bed before muttering out a bashful apology and leaving the bedroom to go into the bathroom down the hall.

They haven’t spooned since then.

James hasn’t touched him since then.

At first, Kristofferson thought that he did something wrong. But when he actually thought about it, he realized that wasn’t the case.

Even though he knew what James wanted, he didn’t push him. He allowed him to set the pace for how he wanted, that, to go.

It was his first time. Not technically, but it was first time in a very, very, very long time that he had even had the chance, or even opportunity, to let those needs bubble up inside of him. So, Kris didn’t push.

Even though he did want too. He didn’t.

Which was why when James suddenly offered up a blindfold as soon as they got into Kris’ car, explaining that he wanted to take him somewhere special and wanted it to be surprise, he didn’t question it.

He only started to question it when it was an hour into the drive and the traffic had completely stopped and all that could be heard was the wind outside.

“I swear to god, James, if you brought me into a cabin to the woods just to drug me, and then lock me in the basement just to cut me up and sell me on the black market. I’m going to be pissed.”

James laughed at that, keeping his hands still firmly on Kristofferson’s shoulders to keep him going forward. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. I seen it in a movie.”

“You watch too many movies. Watch your step, there’s a stair.” He warns before letting go of him to walk around him, going up the step himself to gently take his hands to guide him up them carefully.

“I swear if you cut my ass off, I’m never talking to you again.”

“Why would I-” He just shakes his head with another laugh. “Nevermind. Another step.”

Kristofferson follows the instructions given to him, then stands there awkwardly as he listens to James dig around in his pocket for something before unlocking the front door. Pushing it open, which makes an eerie creek, before putting his right hand onto his shoulder to guide him inside.

“This isn’t helping my fear that you’re going to eat me.” Kris says simply as James chuckles to himself, pushing the door shut behind him.

James walks in front of him, putting the key into the pocket of his leather jacket before gently removing the blindfold from his eyes.

“I’m not going to eat you, Moon.” He assures as Kristofferson’s eyes squint to adjust to the bright lights after being in the dark for the last couple of hours. “I’ve never taken you on a trip before, I wanted to change that.” He moves his chin gently with his finger to make him look at him fully.

“We went to visit Sam’s family. That was a trip.”

“Yes, but Sam was there. We’re weren’t…” His voice trails off, losing some of the confidence that he worked up on the drive over here. “Alone.”

Kristofferson quietly blinks at him for a moment.

“We’re alone in your apartment.” He points out. “You didn’t need to, take me all the way out here, just to be alone with me y’know. We had somewhere already.”

“This is different, Moon. I-Fuck.” James sighs, putting his down from Kris’ face to rest in his shoulders. Massaging them idly as he tries to piece together the words he wants to say all over against. “I don’t like my apartment.”

“Then we could’ve hung out at mine.” He responds quickly before James can finish.

“No!” James responds just as quickly, fumbling over his words for a moment before he just sighs again, shaking his head this time. “I want this to be, special, and my apartment, or your apartment, isn’t somewhere where I feel comfortable for us to do… what I have planned.”

Kristofferson stares at him quietly once more, only for longer this time.

“But why some random, cabin?” He looks around for a moment before his gaze falls back on James. “Is this a cabin?”

“‘Cause I wanted… it to feel, like us. Like we were in the house we want.” James answers a little more sheepishly, his cheeks pinkening slightly. “If you want too. We don’t have too if you don’t want too.” He quickly adds.

Kristofferson sighs a little bit, then reaches his hands up to cup James’ scruffy face in between them. Starting to rub soothing reassuring circles onto his scruff.

“I want too. I have for a while. I’ve just been waiting for you to feel ready.” He explains honestly, his voice soft and tender. “Are you ready? ‘Cause we don’t have too if you’re not. ‘M fine with waiting longer.”

James shakes his head lightly in between his warm palms. “I want too.” He assures. “It’s been so long already, and we’re good right now, I feel like it’s time.”

“That’s not why we should do this though, Star. I want, to have sex, when you’re feeling a hundred percent ready for it. Not because you feel like you have to, put out, because we’re good right now. That’s not how this works.”

James falls silent at that, his gaze flickering down to the ground. His eyes gluing themselves to his and Kristofferson’s shoes.

“I know you’ve…” His voice trails off. His words making Kristofferson’s chest tighten in guilt in response.

“Baby, that’s different.” He whispers back. “I was… dealing with some stuff. This isn’t-this would be, like that. Don’t feel like you have to do this just because I’ve whored around in the past.”

“But we haven’t even done anything.” James’ voice dropping down to a murmur. “We barely even kiss, moon. I’m too damn scared to do anything. I used to be good at this.”

Kristofferson just frowns in response to hearing the self deprecating in James’ voice when he speaks. He can’t help but to feel that feeling of guilt inside his chest tighten and grow as this is his fault. His stupid, stupid past behavior coming back to bite him in the ass once again. Just like it always does.

This time though, it’s even worse than any of the previous times it has because it could’ve easily been avoided if Kristofferson dealt with things like a normal person for once.

“Don’t beat yourself up.” Kris eventually whispers, giving James’ cheek a little stroke. “It’s okay.”

“But it’s not.” James protests weakly, making himself cringe at the way his voice cracks in his throat. “You want this. I should be able to give you this without, being… like this. I shouldn’t…” His voice trails off once more.

“James, hey, look at me.” He gently moves his face to make him look up at him. Smiling at him thinly when his blue eyes, even though they are starting to becoming glossy, meet his. “It’s not your fault. Okay? You’re still… learning how to be a person again. It’s gonna take time. Some things are just going to take longer, and that’s okay. I’m in no rush.” He strokes his cheek gently once more. “I got no problem waiting.”

James smiles thinly back. Though his smile is weaker and more forced than Kristofferson’s, he still takes it.

“I still like you.” He adds, knowing that he needs the extra reassurance right now. “Even though I still don’t full believe that you didn’t bring me here to eat me.”

James laughs, truly laughs, at that, lightly shoving Kristofferson’s shoulder.

“I’m not gonna eat you! How many times do I have to tell you that!”

#bite the hand #bucky barnes x original character #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fanfiction #comic bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel mcu #mcu #bucky barnes oneshot #mcu fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic writing

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princessbubblenumbsblog · 1 year

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Stucky Comic Snippet Pt 1

Whew, finally done! Time to continue working on the sequence 😈 If you like it please consider following me!

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galacticwildfire · 1 year

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Memories | Bucky Barnes

Nine

Bucky Barnes x oc

Word count 5.8k

Tags: mentions of torture, fascism, pretty much all pain and longing

June 1944

With guns at my back, I salute Stalin.

I stand in a room with perhaps the words most unstable man, the man who executes war heroes in fear of them, in fear of anyone taking his power from him. Hitler is evil, but Stalin may just be a madman. One of the few men in this world I fear, and so I keep my eyes forward as he inspects me.

My mother speaks up. "I apologise for my eldest daughter's treasons. She was not subjected to Hydra's newest methods in the way my youngest has been."

The guards that aim their guns at me have their fingers over the trigger.

"Would the youngest survive the serum if our scientists recreated it?" Stalin asks, wanting to know just how expendable I am.

"The creator of the original serum was killed, and its chemical formula died with him. I am aware of Hydra experimenting with several potential formulas further to the west upon American soldiers. As far as I am aware only one survived the trials."

James.

My eyes dare flicker to her and I see the way she looks at me, and my blood runs cold. She knows, she knows about us. Of course she does, we were hardly subtle, we were the bases worst kept secret.

"So that is a no?" he clarifies and my mother nods stiffly, afraid of disappointing him. "That is a shame," he decides, looking me up and down while I keep my chin up, afraid to move even the slightest. "We have one supersoldier, as does America, yet ours is a traitor."

Finally I look at him, knowing the part I have to play in this. To survive long enough to get to her, to save her. "I deserted, yes, but I was brought to America against my will. Paraded as the spoils of war, stripped down to my underwear and put on posters. Humiliated. I have no allegience to the Americans."

"And what of Russia?"

With men like him, it is always best to tell them what they want to hear. "I serve the Soviet Union Comrade Stalin."

The room is utterly silent as he steps away from me and takes a seat behind his desk, and motions for me to take a seat. No one dares make a move as I carefully step forward and sit in the armchair, a map between us.

"Relations with the Americans are growing evermore tense," Stalin tells me as he pours himself a drink from a bottle on his desk, Georgian wine. "They are a means to an end, we need Hitler gone, and so long as Hydra does his dirty work they are our enemy." He moves the Soviet pieces on the board towards Berlin. "We need to surround Berlin on the north and the south

Realising he waits for comment I clear my throat. "Indeed, Berlin cannot be taken without an attack on both fronts."

"Except, we cannot allow the Americans any credit," he says, removing the American pieces from the board. "They are too arrogant. Us Soviets shall take Berlin and show the west who the true power in this continent is."

"Yes," I agree, nodding affirmatively despite my anxiety. "The Americans cannot be allowed to take any credit for the fall of Berlin."

I wonder just how bloody the operation shall be, how many shells will fall and how many civilian lives will be lost as Russia moves into Germany, nowhere near as many that have been lost on the Eastern front. As is the tragedy of war.

"The Americans have misused you for too long," Stalin decides, and I glance at my mother who I have never seen quite so terrified as she is now in the presence of Stalin. "The Americans stole you away from Mother Russia and now you have returned."

"Yes Comrade Stalin," I affirm, the lies coming easy to me. "I am home now."

And so with the guns no longer at my back he gets to business. "The Red Room is amongst our most successful programs and has produced dozens of competent female spies in the past decade but it is time to expand."

"Expand?" I ask fearfully.

"A new generation, once Hitler is dealt with the Americans will no doubt be next." My blood runs cold. "The Red Room Academy, I will begin with placing one hundred women within it at the recommendations of my generals. Once Hydra abandons the Germans I will have them continue to experiment with these serums and conditioning but until then we have one Red Widow. Contemporary to this so called Captain America." I'm utterly speechless at the thought of the Red Room expanding from a mere few dozen girls to something that size. "We cannot trust the Americans, we must remove threats without poisoning this alliance." He doesn't say it, but he knows without the Americans fighting on the Western front, all attention would go to the east, to Russia, and the Eastern front would fall. "You shall be my blade, unseen and perfectly sharpened."

If not me, they will find another, and I cannot allow it to be my sister.

"It would be an honour." "If I may," my mother begins. "We were hoping in conjunction with Hydra scientists to resume the Winter Soldier program with her as our subject."

Of all people he shrugs her off. "I don't care about Hydra's wants, they chose to serve Hitler. I invested in the Red Room long before Hydra and I will have her reporting to me directly instead of being wasted in a lab."

She could see the relief I tried so hard to find and insisted "I cannot trust her conditioning to be intact after her time with the American scientists. Allow us time to prepare her before her first mission."

At the mention of American intervention in his perfect soldier he folds "Ensure she is in the condition she was prior to being taken to American."

Numbly I'm walked out of Stalins office and she grabs me by my wrist with a bruising grip "Will you comply, or must we sedate you for your return to the laboratory."

"Stalin said-"

"Stalin is our nations father, but I am your mother," she says coldly. "I have invested too much in you to allow you to ruin it." I pull at my wrist but she holds it tight. "You will not throw my work to waste."

"Why are you doing this?" I finally ask her, after all these years. "How could you do this to someone you are meant to love?"

"Love?" she repeats, sounding the closest to amused I'd ever heard. "Love is weakness, I thought I taught you that." She raises an eyebrow. "It was that weakness that brought you back to me."

There in the hallway she sticks a needle in my neck and as it goes dark I could not help but agree with her, it is weakness.

By the time I come to I'm in a chair, my wrists in metal restraints, the same damn device they had fitted to Bucky's head fitted to mine. Stalin might trust me, he might believe my lies. But Hydra does not. My mother does not.

They won't dare set me free to carry out missions until they believe they have me completely and utterly under their control. And as they prepare to fry my brain I can't help the last bit of defiance that slips out of me when Zola walks in.

"I know your plan," I tell him, having read through Erksine's notes. "And I know that last precious vile of serum you used on him." He still's, having not expected to walk into this. "And I stole him away." A mad grin comes to my face. "You might have me, but you can't get your hands on him can you?"

He doesn't like the thought of anyone knowing his little secrets, and so his voice was filled with a barely contained rage that can only come from a man like him as he turned to the torturer and gave the order. "Begin."

I screamed out as electricity burned through my brain, leaving me convulsing in the chair as they said the words "longing, rusted..."

FOUR MONTHS LATER

October 1944

Bucky

Colonel Phillips calls us in for a meeting.

"The Red Widow has again been sited in Leningrad," he tells us, projecting a photograph and I swallow at the sight of her. "Dining with Stalin himself, the Russian bastard. Senator Brandt's informed us that the US-Russian alliance is becoming ever more volatile, and once Hitlers been dealt with, we may yet have to deal with them.

"What else do you have on Adelina?" Peggy asks while I keep my head down.

He puts a tape on the table. "We've come into possession of some old tapes depicting Russia's psychological conditioning that she was subject to before she joined our armed services."

"I want to see them," I immediately say and all the men look at me.

"Bucky-" Steve begins to protest.

"Play it," I demand and he puts it on.

Sure enough she is there, strapped to a table, already bloodied and bruised. I want to look away but I can't. Not when it's the first I've seen of her in months. "What is your full name?"

Her accident is American as she answers "Adelina Viktoria Morgan."

She flinches as an electric current flows through her body. "Wrong answer."

"Adelina Viktoria Alekseeva." Her mothers maiden name.

"Who is your master?"

"Stalin," she says, trying to keep her head up. "Comrade Stalin."

"Then why did you disobey him when you tried to escape with your sister?"

I go cold, she escaped with her sister in 1942. These aren't old tapes. These aren't from her conditioning before she came to America. These are new.

"He didn't give any order to disobey-"

She bites down hard as they send another jolt through her body, longer this time.

"An order from the Red Room is an order from Stalin," the interrogator says. "Why did you betray him?"

"Because she was six!" she yells, screaming through gritted teeth at the currents that are sent through her body. "She was a fucking kid and I'd be damned if I let you fuckers destroy her!"

The scream that comes next is horrific and I'm staring with wide eyes, utterly frozen in place as I remember what they did to me. As I remember what it felt like to have my brain scrambled. But nothing like this.

"Wrong," a voice says. "You gave your allegiance to the Americans."

"My father was an American, a general," she shudders. "You sent me there every summer to learn to hide what you made me in plain sight, to blend in seamlessly but you miscalculated one thing."

"And what is that?"

"Having a parent who loves you," she says, and there is pure agony in her eyes. "Not like my mother who did this to me. How could I not love the only person who truly loved me?" Tears slip down her cheeks. "You tried to break me, but unlike the other widows, I still had someone to love. You can try to take her from me now and break her mind, turn her into a monster like me, but you can't take that love from me. That is the one thing you can't take."

I feel Peggy and Steves eyes on me as a woman says "And yet love, the fear of losing it, is what brought you back to us."

"Stop," I say, my team shooting me warning looks as Phillips attention comes to me. "It's not old footage."

He scoffs, pausing the footage before we can be exposed. "What does it matter, she's a damned Russian spy."

"Who is currently disobeying orders from the Russians," Peggy argues. "Colonel, they are torturing her into submission-"

He rolls his eyes. "The Russian bitch deserves it, she gassed her entire unit."

"She did it so we wouldn't walk into a slaughter," I say, struggling to keep my cool, but all I can see is her in the snow, crying, telling me she didn't want to do this. "She didn't want to do this."

"Then why did she?" he asks me, fed up. "Just because you were fucking her Barnes doesn't mean you can excuse treason."

Steve grabs me as I launch at him with closed fists and Phillips orders "Get him out of here!" Steve rough handles me out of the room as Phillips yells "She was a damn assassin, you should be fucking grateful she didn't kill you!"

"Fuck you!" I bark out, as Steve drags me down the hall until I push him off me, after all this time finally losing it. "She needs us!"

"I know she does!" Steve yells back. "But she made her choice. She took all of us out so we wouldn't stop her." He lowers his voice. "I'm sorry Buck, but there's nothing we can do."

"That's not good enough," I insist and know the look in his eyes, he pities me. "She isn't what everyone thinks she is."

"How can you know that for sure?" Steve asks me and if he wasn't my best friend... "How can any of us be sure we knew who she really is?"

"Because I did," I say, everyone on the team thinks I've lost it and maybe they're right, but I don't care anymore. "I just had to sit in there and watch them torture her-"

"I know you love her, we all did," he says and sighs "But you have to let her go."

"Over my dead body," I reply. "And I'm not dead yet."

Two days later I'm preparing for my insubordination leave for giving Phillips what he deserved when Peggy comes in.

"Steves not here," I tell her as I pack my suitcase.

"Actually Sergeant Barnes I came to speak with you."

I look her up and down, never having had much to do with her outside of Steve and Ada, Steve's in love with her and god knows Ada loved her like a sister. I never understood why until she shot at Steve for kissing some girl and understood why they were both friends, the crazy streak.

I can't keep the bewilderment from my voice at why she'd be here to speak with me. "Why?"

"Ada," she says and I slam my suitcase shut.

"Well we better step outside before I get accused of sleeping with you too."

She blinks at me as I walk outside and she leads me through the base. "I'm listed as Ada's next of kin considering she has no family left, except I have nowhere to store the things she left behind here. I know you two were living together while on leave, so I thought I'd ask you what you'd like to have done with them."

A question I never thought I'd be asked. But there isn't anyone else. Just me. I run a hand through my hair and sigh "I'll take them."

For some reason she still asks "Are you sure?"

"Well most of her things are still in my apartment anyways," I admit, having been unable to bring myself to move any of them into storage. "Do you have them?"

She nods as we walk into the room the two of them shared and she gives me a suitcase. "Her personal items, as well as the files she had been working on. I've been through most of it but perhaps you and Steve could find something of use."

"Yeah sure," I mumble and catch the look in her eye. "What?"

She looks outside to make sure no one's in the hallway and shuts the door. "I thought you should hear this before the others."

"Hear what?"

"We knew she was working for the Red Room as a special operative, but we've received intelligence that she has become Stalin's personal assassin." It's the lack of reaction that surprises her. "You knew?"

I swallow hard. "She's the best at what she does, I gathered."

The best at what she does, even now it sounds horrible coming out of my mouth.

It's then she asks me "You know her better than anyone, do you think her allegiance could have changed, that she could be loyal to-"

"You saw the tape, do you think she has a choice?" I say a little too harshly. "Sorry I-"

"No, don't apologise it was a silly statement," she says and ponders. "Her allegiance was just never with America, sometimes I wonder where it ever was."

"With us," I say without hesitation, having asked myself that question for the past months. "With her sister."

"Yes well, she was loyal to a fault to those she loved, just not her country, not that I can blame her," she admits and slips me a file. "I did not know her until after she was released from the asylum where they supposedly reprogrammed her psychological conditioning. Considering the circumstances and especially after seeing that tape I am concerned they could have restored it."

"What is this?" I ask as I open it and go quiet as I see a photograph of her, younger than she is now, dated to 1942 when she would have been only twenty. She's in a straight jacket with an electric contraption on her head. "This was our government?"

"They deemed electroshock therapy the most efficient solution," she says with disgust. "This is why she could never trust the higherups, because they did this to her. She was there for a year until Howard and Erksine became directly involved due to project rebirth. They read her files and told the government she was an asset instead of a threat and Howard bribed them to release her." I flip through the files, sick at what I find. "She-"

"Why are you showing me this?" I interrupt, closing the file and putting it on the desk. "You heard Phillips and the rest, we have to let her go."

I freeze as she touches my neck and I clam up as she pulls Ada's dog tags out from beneath my shirt where they rest beside mine. Having worn both since I woke up with her's in my hand in Russia.

"You've pretended as if she died that day," she says, and I hate how I can see parts of her in Peggy. "She is still out there, the Ada we know and both love is out there and she needs our help."

Yet all I can see when I close my eyes is my hand around her throat and a gun to her head in the other, she didn't even flinch, she knew I wouldn't hurt her. She brought out something ugly, I'd just found my entire team gassed and didn't know if they were going to wake up. I thought i was doing the right thing treating her as a deserter, but she only seemed proud.

"She's the last person to need help," I say, remembering how she so easily went from no remorse to fake begging me for mercy. We both saw sides of each other that day we hadn't seen before. "She knows what she's doing, she sure as hell knew when she gassed the unit and stuck a needle in my neck."

"If I know one thing about her, it's that she loved you more than anything, more than herself. All she wanted was to do the right thing and win this war so she could marry you and leave her past behind her."

"Yeah well that was her choice to throw that away," I say, telling her what I've told myself for the past months and she just shakes her head at me.

"Did you forget having Steve ask me for her ring size?" I look away and she continues. "You were going to marry her and it's damn clear to everyone that you still love her. Why are you acting like you hate her? We all saw your performance after that tape, it's a little late now for apathy."

My voice is raw. "Because she's the love of my life and now she's gone. Like you said, the conditioning- I had just some of that done to me, and I saw it done to her. If they've had her for that long she's gone."

I don't know what thought hurts worse, that the woman I love is still out there or that she's gone.

She stays her ground. "You don't believe that, I don't believe that. She's brilliant and more resilient than anybody gives her credit for. She went back to them with a plan, and I believe that once she is able to get hold of her sister she will betray them, just like before."

Despite my months of loving her, she is still impossible to predict. I thought she'd be home by now... but she hasn't.

"I spent months believing any day she'll turn up, if she hasn't by now she won't. She'll never come back to America." The one thing I know for certain. "If she hoped for forgiveness she would have found a different way to leave. Instead she gassed our unit and stuck a syringe in me and Steve. It wasn't a moments decision, it was pre-meditated. She planned it all. If she planned to come back home she wouldn't have done everything she could to make me hate her in those last moments."

I knew what she was, but I suppose part of me was always as naive as I was the moment I laid eyes on her when she saved me. Those brown doe eyes and relieved smile, the woman I saw before I ever discovered she was a Russian spy. As much as I wish she did, she never lied to me about who she was and I loved her anyway, which is why now as much as I wish I could hate her, I can't.

"For the people she loves she will go to lengths you and Steve can't imagine," Peggy says, as if I didn't already know that. "But that doesn't make her cause any less just." She looks at the file as she tells me "We suspect she will be carrying out an assassination on an American diplomat scheduled to meet with a high ranking Russia general." She hesitates. "I have been given an order that we are to use this to lure her into a trap and take her out."

It takes me a moment to realise what she's saying and that she hasn't brought this intelligence to Steve or anyone else, but to me. "Take her out?"

She nods stiffly. "Order's not from anyone in the military, but from the government. She's been listed as one of the greatest threats to American security and there are fears she was able to intercept classified information from our government to give to the Russians." Her voice shakes. "They- they have assigned me to take her out."

"Carter-"

"I leave in twenty four hours for Russia, I am meant to be escorting the politician as his secretary to gather intelligence and have been asked to find a stand in for safety reasons." She looks at me and I realise what she's asking. "I don't know what I'm going to find, but if there is one thing I know it's that she won't let anyone lay a hand on you."

"What-what are you saying?" I stammer at what she's asking me to do.

"I trust that she won't kill me, but I don't trust that I'll be able to convince her to come home," she says sadly. "You are the only person that could. You will be recognised, and she will know that, we'll leave her with no choice but to come with us. I love her like a sister, and I am going to bring her home but I can't do it alone. It's a suicide mission but-"

"I'll do it," I say immediately. "You're right. She left so the Red Room wouldn't kill me and so that Hydra wouldn't try to take me back. If she thinks there's a chance they could she will drop whatever plan she has to get me out of there. To take us home."

She might hate us for the plan, but it would bring her home. It would work without any doubts. I don't know if I'll want to kiss her or kill her when I see her, I know she'll no doubt be torn between the two as well.

"I can keep her out of prison by building a case she was a double agent," she says, having thought this through. "But for the colonel to believe this is an assassination and not a rescue mission he can't know you're involved. Steve doesn't trust her, but he won't say no to me asking him to fly the plane, he knows how important this is to both of us, he won't betray our plans."

I nod and ask one question "When do we leave?"

Ada

I sit with the Soviet Unions' greatest generals as they plan their invasion of Berlin. Realistically it is still months away, but they are determined to get there before the Americans. God forbid when they decide to go to space.

"If the Americans were to decide to invade from the west we can expect at the forefront of the American army to be the Howling Commandos," General Zhuvok says, and I feel the eyes of the men in the room on me. "They have become quite famous in the west, the very image of American strength and gallantry. Thanks to Captain America they are the face of the American army." It's then the projector lights up and I see a frame of the videos they would make out in the field. "These mad fuckers are invading every Hydra base they can find and blowing it to smithereens, they are taking all the glory."

Even with the eyes on me, I can't help how those words bring the slightest smile to my face, and I watch as he begins rolling the footage. What I'm not prepared for is to see the missions I haven't been a part of, to see Steve commanding these men I fought alongside and not being there. I can't help how my breath hitches in my throat at the sight of him, sitting there with Steve, face serious as he watches him mark out locations on a map.

The first I've seen his face since I left him, suddenly he looks up from the map and into the camera, as if he knows somewhere I'd see this, and pain shoots through my chest at the sight,

I can feel my mothers eyes on me, she's one of the Soviet Unions first spies, having graduated into Stalin's inner circle, I'd be a fool to think she didn't know, especially not after sending a widow disguised as me to him. Even now after all this time I debate if it was truly Hydra sending those threats, or if it was just her. Whilst the Soviet union has abandoned Hydra I know well she is still working with Zola, I've come to the conclusion it was all her working on behalf of both.

I look at the face of the man I love, the man I abandoned, feeling a physical ache as the projector is turned off and discussion returns to the invasion, to taking the glory from the Americans for themselves, whilst I sit there utterly numb. My fingers reach instinctively for my dog tags, an anxious tick, only to find them gone, left with Bucky in the snow.

After the past months I fall asleep and wake wishing I could go back and scream at myself not to leave, that the little sister I abandoned everything for is gone. I still don't know what they've done to her, but I've gathered whatever serum they had left was used on Bucky because no more supersoldiers have been made. She is just a child, nine years old, but everything that made her human is gone. I don't know if it's the same torture I faced or some chemical concoction, but she doesn't even know me. I sat there, chained and bound in iron screaming at her, pleading for her to say something, to tell me she's still there. But nothing.

She's gone. She's alive, but my baby sister isn't in there anymore.

She's become the NKVD's child soldier. Second only to their greatest agent.

Me.

My greatest fault now it seems is that my instinct to survive is somehow greater than my urge to end my pain, to take myself out before they can make me a true monster.

Except it's too late for that.

The autumn wind blows cold, the sky drearily grey overhead as I walk through the streets outside the building where I am confined to, where I operate out of. If my mother had it her way I'd be chained at all hours but she cannot let on that her prized weapon is faulted, and so I can walk the streets but know I am certainly watched while doing so.

I come across a stack of newspapers laid out, stilling when I read the english writing and realise somehow they've been able to acquire the New York Times, and on the front page is Steve dressed in his uniform, a candid of him at an awards ceremony with Bucky standing behind him, grinning at his friend and read the caption

Captain America and the Howling Commando's awarded the Distinguished Service Medal for latest victory in Germany

With no currency on me I swipe the newspaper and hide it beneath my coat, walking briskly back towards the guarded building which houses many of the top generals whilst they are in Leningrad. I work my way up towards my small room, little more than a bed and a small vanity by the window, the cupboard containing five changes of clothes, all uniform. I sit at my vanity and hold the newspaper in my hand, running my fingers over his face and let tears drop from my cheeks onto the paper, mourning the life I sacrificed in fear, in fear of him being collateral damage.

I gave up a home, a family, the love of my life who wanted to make me his wife.

"I'm sorry my love," I whisper, holding the paper to me as if I could hold him one last time. "I'm so sorry."

That night I lay awake with tearstained cheeks, clutching the paper to my chest, as if somehow I could walk through it back to him, but I can't. Not after everything I've done.

Bucky

Steve flies us into Leningrad, Peggy beside him. I don't know what intelligence she'll be collecting while I'm with Ada, but we know we only have a short window to get in and out.

I sit there in the plane, holding a photo from the FBI file Peggy gave me that she'd somehow managed to get her hands on. A file I forced myself to read on the way here. Photo's of the men and women she's killed, the bodies, things that should horrify me, and perhaps they do, but all I feel is a pit in my stomach as I look at the photograph at the top of the file, of her smiling alongside Steve and I. It's me she's smiling at, and I can see the note attached from whoever in the government compiled the file to determine if we were having an affair, beneath it a photograph of us leaving my apartment sometime back in the winter. They'd been trailing her, building this file for years, dating back to when she was only seventeen.

Everything she could never bring herself to tell me is in there, and now I've seen all of it. Reading it feels like a violation, and perhaps it is, I can imagine the look on her face so clearly if I ever showed it to her. One thing is clear, to call her a spy would be undermining what she's capable of, deep down I always knew the truth, but it's right in front of me the proof of her being a cold-blooded assassin, back when she was a teenager and again now.

But it's not that I'm afraid of. They've had her for months now and if Zola or whoever else has managed to succeed in making her a winter soldier then I might not be walking out of there alive. In my jacket pocket is a syringe I had Howard make up, the same one she used on me and Steve, which is why I know it will work on her. Not that she'd realise but when you're with a spy for six months you learn a thing or two.

Steve thinks Peggy and I are both crazy, but he wouldn't say no to her. Maybe I am crazy doing this, for months I've been doubting if any of it was ever real, but she never lied to me, not until the end. Right from the start she told me she'd never be my American dream, would never be a housewife or anything close. Maybe I'm afraid that knowing everything I did then and now that I'll still look at her and see a wife instead of a killer.

But all I see is when I look at the photo in my hand is the woman I loved, and I know I'll do anything to get her back.

Ada

Come morning I'm given orders to escort an American diplomat to the general for an interrogation and then kill him, other members of the NKVD will arrange the plane crash to make it seem like an accident. In America's eyes the USSR is an unlikely ally in their war against Hitler. Little do they know Stalin already believes them to be an enemy, secretly undermining Russia with every move. Anyone with eyes should see the moment Hitler falls a new war will begin. Once the dictator falls in Europe Stalin will merely take his place. An alliance based on a mutual enemy, filled with suspicion and mistrust.

A mistrust this politician sees, who has come here to try to ease relations, but little does he know he won't leave this building alive. One of the dozens of problems I've been ordered to take care of. I thought in time they'd send me back into Germany to invade Nazi bases, but they refuse to let me out of their sight, operating with the strictest surveillance. Sometimes I swear they have a team dedicated to making sure my where about are known at all times. It wouldn't surprise me if there was.

Dressed in classic office attire instead of a catsuit I'm escorted through the building by a member of security, every operation, every movement being a test of faith. We stop outside a meeting room and the guard tells me "Agent Alekseeva, the diplomat is waiting inside."

Which is why when I walk into the room where the politician is meant to be held I could never have expected what awaits me.

The moment I step inside I freeze completely, his back's to me but I'd recognise the way he holds himself even if I was half blind, even if years had passed. I'd still remember what's been engraved into my mind.

He turns to face me and all that I can feel is the horror dawning on me that he's here in this building.

He's here.

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misshoneybee · 2 years

Text

⟣ 𝑌𝑂𝑈'𝑅𝐸 𝑀𝑌 𝐴𝐶𝐻𝐼𝐿𝐿𝐸𝑆 𝐻𝐸𝐸𝐿 ⟢

— 𝑋𝑋𝐼. 𝐼𝑁 𝐿𝑂𝑆𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐺𝑅𝐼𝑃 𝑂𝑁 𝑆𝐼𝑁𝐾𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝑆𝐻𝐼𝑃𝑆, 𝑌𝑂𝑈 𝑆𝐻𝑂𝑊𝐸𝐷 𝑈𝑃 𝐽𝑈𝑆𝑇 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐼𝑀𝐸

Masterpost — OFC Biography — Playlists — Chapter XX — Chapter XXII

❧ Pairings | Post-Endgame!Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character, Previous Steve Rogers x Original Female Character

❧ Warnings | Mature content, explicit language, explicit sexual content (vaginal fingering, oral sex (f-rec), dirty talk, p in v sex, porn with feelings)

❧ Wordcount | ~8.8k

❧ Disclaimer | Dividers are by firefly-graphics. If you are a minor, or do not have your age in your bio, and I catch you interacting with this, you will be blocked. If you believe you were blocked unfairly, send me an ask with your url.

When you're young, you just run, But you come back to what you need ( This Love | 1989 )

February 21, 2025

With more force than he meant to use, Bucky cursed under his breath and locked the door behind him. He hadn’t seen Maggie since his return to the city and he was entirely certain that it was purposeful—she’d been avoiding him. He’d heard her scrambling to enter her apartment as quickly as possible, on more than one occasion, anytime he began to leave his whilst she was in the hallway.

Leaving Sam’s, he somehow felt even more confused than he did when he’d arrived. Perhaps his plan had been flawed; using their rules, he’d gotten burned. Maybe deep down a part of him knew how she felt, that she liked him, and maybe that was what had really scared him. Of course, he never wanted to see her name printed in the tabloids, but it had been something more.

No one had ever liked him for him. Steve had become his friend when he’d become the younger man’s protector, Sam and he had become friends due to circumstance, but Maggie? She didn’t have to give him a second chance after their first real meeting, but she had, and his world hadn’t been the same since.

She didn’t like him because he had anything to offer, or as reciprocation for something that he’d done—for the first time that he could remember, she liked him for who he was. She didn’t care about his past and all that he’d done before they knew one another, she didn’t care that he was a little rough around the edges or that he could get grumpy; she only cared for him, but what had he given her in return?

Heartbreak.

Through thick walls, he’d only heard one piece of her muffled conversation with Sam in Louisiana, and he wished that he’d heard her answer. Did she feel bad that she wanted to move on or because she wanted to move on with him? Had she seen a future with him too?

For so many years, he never let himself look that far ahead. What was the point when he didn’t know what would become of him? A soldier, an assassin, a fugitive. He allowed himself to plan for days, not months, and certainly not years, but with Maggie? He wanted decades, millennia, eons—if he was with her, he’d be content to live out their years together and see the death of the sun.

As long as he had her, nothing else mattered.

And maybe he had had her for a moment, but then he’d allowed their kindling flame to burn out. He’d never admit it, but Sam was right—he’d been fucking stupid and now she was gone. Maybe not completely, but she was out in the hall, kissing some yuppie while he was only a few feet away behind a closed door. It should’ve been him that she was kissing.

Ripped away from his thoughts, there were three solid knocks on the front door. Staring at the wood, he wished he could see through to the other side, but it was unnecessary; there was no question who his unexpected guest was. What did she want? Was it about his staring? Or perhaps she wanted to complain that he’d scared her date away—the possessive part of Bucky liked the sound of that.

He didn’t know the guy but Bucky knew she deserved better than him too.

Working his jaw, he finally mustered up the courage to unlock the door, opening it only wide enough for her to see his entire frame. She looked beautiful, like if February had been given a face; a cream sweater, a woolen red, plaid skirt that looked so soft, he yearned to touch. The translucent claret paint that always graced her plush lips was present and…unsmeared.

So, she hadn’t kissed that Wall Street asshole. That was a win in his book.

Maggie allowed her eyes to drift over him as he waited for her to speak, and the sight infuriated her; his expression was so carefully blank, and she wanted to scream. Every emotion felt as if it had been dialed up to twenty—she was happy he was home safely because she thought that maybe he’d been away on some secret mission, furious because he’d left without a word for the second time since she knew him, terrified that maybe he’d disappeared forever to cut ties with her, and thoroughly, deeply in love with him.

All of that swirled in her mind, yet the only thing she was able to blurt out was a somewhat accusatory observation, “You left.”

He looked tired—the shadow of the dark circles under his eyes hedged the border from indigo to blue and his face looked gaunt. She just wanted to take it in her hands and see if he was okay.

“I had work stuff.” His words were unnecessarily clipped.

Crossing her arms, she was cognizant to not let the relief that swept over her show. So, it wasn’t exactly a mission, but at least he hadn’t been with his girlfriend. The bile in her throat receded. She knew she didn’t have a right to be upset; he wasn’t hers anymore—maybe he had never been to begin with. Never knowing how to leave well enough alone, she pushed with the barest hint of hurt, “And you couldn’t have told me?”

Clenching his fist at his side, he took a deep breath; he’d abandoned her in more ways than one. Was there a trophy for ‘Asshole of the Year?’ Because, if there was, he was almost certain that he’d be in the running for first place.

Curtly, he pointed out, “Well, we weren’t really talking.”

‘Don’t say it. Leave it alone. It’s not your business anymore.’

Ignoring the pointed voice in his head, he continued with a barely masked look of disdain that somehow bordered on ambivalence, “Besides, looks like you were out on a date, anyway.”

As he moved to shut the door, she promptly shoved her pump-clad foot in its path to block it as she clarified incredulously, “Nick?”

Even if she had been out, what did it matter? He had a girlfriend; Maggie wasn’t his problem anymore. So, what if she wanted to date? He’d made it very clear that he wanted that—just not with her. Even so, it’s like she felt the need to overexplain herself as she added, “He’s my ex—we were just catching up. We hadn’t seen each other in over a decade.”

With an annoyed huff, she continued to chastise him, “And we are way past that, James.”

He frowned; she’d used his full name, and they definitely weren’t having sex, which meant she was probably pissed. Rightfully so.

“That whole silent treatment thing doesn’t work for us.” She gestured between their bodies at the abstract concept; was there even a ‘them’ anymore?

“Maggie—”

Despite his attempt to cut in, though he didn’t even know what he wanted to say, she ignored him and continued, “You can’t just leave like that!” Cursing the way that her hands shook and how she cried when she got upset, Maggie swiped away some of the hot tears on her cheeks as she pushed past him into his slightly barren apartment, “Look, I know that whatever the fuck this was, meant more to me than it did to you but—”

His brow furrowed, “What?”

Bulldozing on, Maggie rounded on him and jabbed a finger into the firm muscle of his chest as he closed the door behind her, “—it’s not fair for you to just up and disappear and leave me here with no clue as to where you were, or if you were okay, again!”

That was a fair reprimand. Giving her an extra beat, waiting to see if she had anything left to add, Bucky’s voice was low as he responded to the single comment that had bothered him most during her verbal flagellation, “You’re wrong.”

“Excuse me?” She raised an eyebrow. It made her furious, how his expression was so calm, like he had the whole world figured out.

Repeating himself, he shrugged, “You’re wrong.”

Clenching her fists, Maggie ignored the stinging as her painted nails dug painfully into her slightly sweaty palms. ‘Say it, just say it.’ She had nothing left to lose—well, nothing except him—but if she didn’t tell him, then he was as good as lost to her anyway.

“Look, I like you, Bucky. And, even if you don’t want me the same way, you’re still one of my best friends.” Swallowing her pride, and the lump in her throat, she held his glacial eyes that seemed to be thawing, “You’re still one of the only people that I have left in this stupid fucking world, and I can’t lose you too.” Willing the tears away, she started carefully, averting her eyes, “I know you’re seeing someone else—”

There it was.

Flinching, he accepted the blow. He couldn’t do it anymore—he couldn’t let her believe that there was someone else when there was only her. He regretted ever telling her that in the first place. Maybe the road to hell really had been paved with good, but misguided, intentions. Cutting her off, he bit the bullet and finally admitted the truth, “I’m not.”

“You…” Faltering, she shifted her weight from one leg to the other as her brain struggled to compute the simple two-word sentence. Crossing her arms uncomfortably, she huffed and quietly reaffirmed, “You’re not?”

Shaking his head, his voice was quiet as he clarified, “I never was.”

Brows drawn together, making a tiny wrinkle between them, she could only stare. Not only was he not seeing anyone else, he never had been in the first place. That didn’t make sense. Because, if he was telling the truth now, that meant that he’d lied before—and why would he have lied to her?

Feeling her face flush even more, Maggie felt slightly embarrassed, but she couldn’t put her finger on the reason why. Maybe it was the relief that he hadn’t been with anyone else, or because she’d been jealous of a figment of her imagination, but whatever it was made her chest constrict as she tried to fit the puzzle pieces together unsuccessfully.

“But why—”

Raising his voice just slightly, like he was trying to silence her, or end the conversation all together, Bucky spoke over the tail end of her question defeatedly, “You deserve someone better than me, Maggie.”

December 18, 2024

Support group sessions at the Veterans Affairs office were his least favorite part of the week. It wasn’t like anyone could share his experience, so why did he even bother attending? All of the other Winter Soldiers were dead—Zemo had made certain of that with Siberia and again, with the explosion after the attempted GRE vote—so, it wasn’t like there was a slew of people running around with the super soldier serum coursing through their veins.

The short, older man who ran the group had finally dismissed them for the afternoon. Using one of the wooden stirrer sticks, he waited for the packet of sugar to dissolve into the darkness of his lukewarm coffee; the thin paper cup had done a poor job at insulating the liquid. Before he saw them, he heard a person approaching from behind. Suddenly, a tall, slender woman with straw blonde hair appeared by his side.

Following a similar routine to him, she poured the bitter, burnt coffee from the carafe into a cup. Sitting it down on the table, she added the barest splash of cream, hardly changing the color at all and brought it to her lips. Though she was bundled in a heavy, puffer coat and plaid scarf now, he easily recognized her from earlier. She’d been sitting nine spots to his left in the circle.

Turning to face him, she gave him a long look with black cat-lined, hazel-brown eyes before asking with a quiet, alto voice, “Barnes, right?”

“Bucky.” He corrected and offered her a hand, the gloved vibranium one carefully wrapped around his coffee cup. He’d introduced himself at the beginning of each session, the same way, every time since he’d begun attending.

'Barnes. Army. I was a P.O.W. for a few years,’ That was definitely an understatement, ‘Now I’m just trying to get back to normal.’

It was innocuous enough that it didn’t garner questions or any unwanted attention; he was just biding his time in the group until he could cease his attendance.

“Elizabeth Van Patten.” Her grasp was soft, like a barely-there touch as she shook his hand. There was a certain confidence that she easily emanated as she stood beside him, her posture perfect and her arched brows giving a constant look of skepticism while her lips were twisted into a little smirking smile like she knew something that no one else did. “I know this might be a little forward, but I’ve seen you around here a lot, you’re cute, and I was wondering if maybe you’d like to get some actual good coffee sometime.”

She held up the coffee cup with an expression of disgust; the way her nose wrinkled reminded him of Maggie though two women couldn’t have been more different.

“Oh, uh,” Rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, he awkwardly declined her offer, “Thanks but I’m…seeing someone.”

That’s what they were doing, wasn’t it? Their rule had been that they’d stop their arrangement if they found someone else that they wanted to be with. He didn’t want to be with anyone except Maggie, so it was simple, really.

“Oh.” Taken aback, there was a slightly surprised look on her model-esque, angular face. She was beautiful—that was an objective fact—but there was just one problem. She wasn’t Maggie. Maybe she wasn’t used to being turned down; there was almost a sense of arrogance as she gave a half-shrug, “Well, let me know if that ever changes.”

The jazzy rhythm of a ringtone shattered the quiet ambience of the mostly empty room, and he pulled the small, silver flip phone from his pocket. A little, involuntary smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Speak of the devil. It was Maggie’s ringtone that she’d set for herself at some point, so he’d always know when it was her calling.

Taking a few steps backwards towards the door, he shook his head as he flipped it open, his finger hovering over the green button with the smile still on his lips, “Sorry, I don’t think it will.”

February 21, 2025

She could only stare at him for several seconds, dumbfounded as the weight of his words fell upon her. Her shoulders fell with the weight as she searched for words, coming up only with a whispered, “What?”

With his jaw set, she could see the vein on the side of his neck protrude as he crossed the living room, needing space for just a moment. He couldn’t think when she was around; it was like she made every rational thought in his mind disappear and replaced all of them with her presence. She was dangerous.

There was a dark look that cast a shadow over his exhausted face as he looked at her in defeat, “I’m fucking broken and still trying to pick up all the goddamn pieces. I don’t know who I am or what the fuck I want, but I know that I can’t be Steve.”

The way he spat the last four words made it feel like she’d been struck by shrapnel from some ticking time-bomb.

There was a piece of Maggie that hurt for him because he wasn’t broken—not in the slightest, no matter what he thought. Like her, Bucky was bumped and bruised from all of the hits that the world had landed on him, but she loved every imperfection they’d left behind. She loved him because, not despite. She loved him, just as she’d been loved before.

Beneath the hurt was a ghost of offense; at his statement, she began playing back every memory she had of him. She’d been so careful to never compare him to Steve—not aloud at least. But had she allowed those mental parallels that she’d drawn affect him? Had she hurt him and had no clue all the while?

Unable to look at him though she could feel his eyes burning her, she tugged at her fingers as she whispered weakly, “You thought that’s what I wanted?”

“You were going to marry him!” Running a hand through his cropped hair, he gave a stilted shrug, like something had been set in stone that he was powerless to change.

“I know.” She got out severely as her eyes shot back to his and she pressed her lips together to stop herself from snapping further. Measuring each careful breath, she tried to speak without crying any more than she already had. The subject was far less painful than it once had been but there was still some residual sting that had been left behind.

“Trust me, I know I was.” With several slow steps, she approached him, holding his eyes, and waiting for him tell her to stop. Her voice was soft, like if she was any louder, she’d shatter something fragile, “I wouldn’t trade those years for anything, but I had to let him go, Bucky. And the only reason I was able to do it was because of you.”

It was like their own grief had alleviated the other's; sharing the burden had lightened the load. As he stared at her, there was something deep in his eyes that was pained.

Even if it was useless, even if he didn’t love her back, even if there wasn’t anyone else, she had to get everything off of her chest now before she could talk herself out of it again.

Reaching out with a shaking hand, she took his and touching him felt like coming up for air after being underwater for so long that her lungs had begun to hurt as they struggled to survive; it was bracing and beautiful and he made her feel like she could breathe again, “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I wanted you to be him; I don’t.” Shrugging, it felt like her heart was wide open as her watery eyes stayed trained on him and she whispered earnestly, “I just want you.”

How had she managed to do it? To let herself into the cracks of his heart, warming and filling it with her golden light? When he was with her, he didn’t feel broken or incomplete. There was a comfortable wholeness that he felt like he’d been searching for his entire life.

But what could he give her in return? He couldn’t even guarantee that she would be safe with him; when Sam had told him that Karli had called Sarah, his first fear had been that maybe she’d found Maggie too, or maybe she’d even taken her. He would have ripped the world apart to get her back.

If she was the radiant setting sun, he was dusk—an ever-looming darkness that always came to eventually eclipse the light.

Squeezing his eyes closed, Bucky’s grip tightened on her hand as his resolve began to crack, “Maggie…”

As he trailed off, she was still stuck on his earlier wording. He’d said deserved—like she was some martyr or saint. Like she hadn’t made her own fair share of mistakes in her life. Like he wasn’t good enough for her. Dropping his hand, she crossed her arms once more as she defensively pointed out, “And who are you to tell me what I deserve, anyway?”

She’d wracked her brain, again and again and came up empty handed every time. What had happened that he’d had such a change of heart? It was like, one morning, they were fine but twelve hours later—oh.

Understanding washed over her like a tidal wave, knocking Maggie off of her feet, and pulling her violently out to sea.

“Is this about the thing in the paper?” She’d eventually seen the print edition of the Daily Bugle’s rumors—of course, he had too. His silence in response to her question would have been answer enough but the way he avoided her eyes sealed the deal. Struggling to keep the frustration at bay and out of her voice, she begged, “Bucky, you know all of that was bullshit!”

Shaking his head, his voice was low as he brokenly admitted, “I didn’t want anyone to look at you differently because you were with me.”

Her bottom lip wobbled at the pain in his voice. He thought so little of himself. Even after all this time, all the times he’d fought to save the world, everything he’d done to repent for the sins of his past—would he ever believe it was enough? Believe he was enough?

It bubbled over. Finally, she snapped, as fast, uneven breaths struggled to fill her chest. The sob was audible as she raised her voice desperately, “I don’t care what anyone else wants!”

For the first time in her life, Maggie didn’t want to take anyone else’s opinion into consideration. No one else mattered; what she and Bucky wanted, what they did, was no one’s concern except their own. It felt good not to give a shit, like a shackle around her ankle had been cut and she was free.

Finally, he looked at her as she explained erratically, almost hysterical, “I've spent most of my life thinking about what was best for everyone else, and what they wanted, and I never let myself have what I wanted.”

“But what if—”

“No.” Pointing a finger at him, he clammed up at her firm reprimand—she wasn’t done. She ignored the black flecks of mascara that she knew had begun to speckle her cheek from her tears as she let out a humorless laugh, “I have spent my entire life thinking about what-ifs and all that’s done is hurt me and I can’t do that anymore. I don’t want to.”

Standing in front of Bucky, she was firm, “I’m not going to give up before we even try.” Cautiously, she placed her freezing hands on his scruff-covered cheeks, and he shivered at the touch he’d missed so badly over the last month. Like it was a reflex, his hands gravitated to her soft waist.

Her thumb brushed soothingly over his cheek as the vulnerability broke through her exterior; she was just as afraid as he was. Her voice shook, “If you don’t feel the same, that’s fine, but if there’s even the smallest chance that you do, I want this. I want you, Bucky.” Her watery eyes searched his as she begged in a barely audible whisper, like she hadn’t even meant to say it aloud, “Just…please say you want me too.”

Resting his forehead against hers, Bucky melted like he was finally laying down to sleep after being deprived of rest for so long. He didn’t want to fight it anymore, he just wanted her.

Murmuring softly, he closed his eyes, “Of course, I do.”

September 12, 2024

Curling her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, Maggie’s voice was almost inaudible as she asked, “Do you ever wish you could go back and do it all again?”

Closing her eyes tightly, she wished she could retract her inquiry as she waited for his response. The handful of seconds were painful until she felt the pillow jostle the slightest bit as Bucky shook his head and murmured a low, “no.”

It felt like she could breathe again. His large hand splayed on her back felt like a pleasant weight as it drifted up and down. She could feel his warm breath on her forehead as he whispered, “No. I’m happy right here.”

She was grateful that the room was pitch black; even the dim light from the streetlamps outside her window weren’t enough to illuminate the stray tears that fell down her cheek and landed silently on the satin pillowcase. If she said another word, he’d know she was crying again, and she’d done far too much of that in the past twenty-four hours.

With a quiet sniffle, she shifted closer to him. Slotting her thick-sock-clad feet between his, she curled into his chest, burying her face into the soft, gray fabric of his shirt. It went without saying, but she was happy that he was there, too.

Though her breath slowed, and her limbs felt heavy, sleep evaded her. How could she have been so tired on the couch where she’d almost totally drifted off to sleep, yet her mind refused to rest once she was in bed?

Counting her own breaths, counting Bucky’s, counting Alpine’s deep snores, she almost broke. It vaguely registered in her mind that he was also awake when his lips brushed against her temple, softly whispering into her hair, “He shouldn’t have wanted anyone but you.”

It was a valiant effort to keep her breath from catching in her chest though her heart rate had begun to compete with the speed of light. There was no doubt who ‘he’ was referring to, but the weight of the barely spoken statement fell on her like a ton of bricks.

This was what it felt like to finally be someone’s first choice.

February 21, 2025

“You do?” Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed that it wasn’t a dream or her mind playing a cruel joke. He wanted her, too?

He. Wanted. Her.

“I never wanted anyone else.” He breathed out, his fingers clenching the soft knit of her sweater before releasing them and sliding his arms around her, pulling her closer as he felt his own eyes grow warm with tears. He hadn’t cried since he’d been in Wakanda. Since the Winter Soldier had been taken out of his head.

Under her fingers, Maggie felt the way his jaw clenched hard before he finally exhaled plaintively, “I’m so sorry, Maggie.”

Honesty.

She had to be honest; she hadn’t been when she’d made that rule about not having feelings for one another, and she hadn’t been when she’d said that she was happy that he’d found someone. She couldn’t just pretend that it hadn’t hurt, that it was fine, and they could just ride off into the sunset together.

Her voice came out far smaller and more insecure than she intended for it to as she asked hesitantly, “But why did you lie?”

“I was a coward and I…” Pulling back to look at her—but keeping her tight in his arms because he never wanted to let her go again—his eyes were guilty as they swept over her curious, disappointed expression as she hung on to his words. Cringing, he admitted, “I thought it might hurt less.”

Pressing her lips together, she took a breath. Misguided as it was, she should have known that it was because he thought it was better for her, but it still burned. Shaking her head, she was frank with a pained smile as she pointed out, “It didn’t.”

Pulling her in tightly, he tucked her head just below his chin and held her close to his body. With only her presence, the feeling of her body pressed against his, Bucky felt his heartbeat begin to slow as he shook his head, “I shouldn’t’ve lied.”

“You should’ve just talked to me.” Maggie hummed into his neck, taking in the scent of him that she’d grown used to. The clean smell of his soap, the fresh scent of his washing detergent, the smoky, spicy cologne that was clinging to his skin after being applied so many hours earlier.

Who was she to give him advice on ‘just talking’ to someone? Maybe it was because that had been a mistake that she’d made thousands of times before, because he was the first person that she refused to make it with. Who would she be if she didn’t give him the grace that she’d been given? Maybe he’d been stupid, but he was hers.

“I forgive you.”

She felt the way his breath caught in his chest, like he’d been worried that he’d done something unforgiveable, “You do?”

“I know how it feels to be scared.” One of her hands that had been loped behind his neck drifted up, running her fingers through the soft, short hair at his nape as she assuaged him, “To want to run away.”

That was something she’d understood better than anyone because it was all she’d known since she was twenty-one. She’d run from her life after her parents died. From Nick. From Ben. And even though she said that she’d tell him if she ever felt like doing it again, she had eventually run from Steve too.

But she was done running away because there was no escaping pain or loss—that was life and it couldn’t be stopped, just as the Earth couldn’t be prevented from spinning. Running may have taken her around the world and from one pair of arms to another, but it hadn’t taken away the hurt, it hadn’t made her feel any better than if she’d stayed—it had only delayed the inevitable.

Now, there were so many things that she wanted, and, for the first time, she felt like she was running towards them as fast as she could. Even if the wolves were nipping at her heels every step of the way, she knew it was better to have loved and lost rather than to never have loved at all.

Because, without a doubt, that’s what it was. Maybe at first, she’d been a little unsure but now she couldn’t be more certain: she loved him. The lazy look he gave her from his spot on the bed when she woke up before him, the way he absentmindedly played with her hair as she fell asleep, the pleasant pain in her side from laughing at something he said—all of the small things just added up to it, like it was some perfect mathematic proof.

Perhaps he was like her before she knew Steve—utterly convinced that everything she hated about herself made her unlovable. Like her, he was wrong.

Leaning back to look at him, her words were gentle as a sad smile played on her lips, “Why is it so hard for you to believe that because I loved him, I couldn’t love you too?”

His arms tightened around her waist at the question, and she’d never seen his eyes so soft as he looked at her, his lips parted just slightly as he absorbed the words.

It felt like grace.

Maggie loved him—a fervent, open-hearted, persevering love.

Before he could speak, her hands trailed over his broad shoulders and down to where they came to rest on his chest. She could feel the fast, steady thump of his heart through his shirt as she clarified pointedly with a slow shake of her head, “I don’t want you to be Steve.” Tapping her index finger against his sternum, she held his gaze as she begged him to hear her and truly listen to what she was saying, “You have so many things that make you good but you’re too fucking blind to see any of them.”

Clenching the soft fabric of his shirt in her fists, she finally tore her eyes from his piercing gaze. No more lies. She focused on the three buttons beneath his collar; the top one was undone, and she spoke to the hollow of his throat instead of his face as she admitted quietly, “I read your file from…from Hydra. When you were—”

Cutting herself off, Maggie bit the inside of her cheek; it wasn’t who he’d been. Correcting herself, she continued, “When they made you do all of that stuff, they had to convince you that you were doing it to make the world a better place because otherwise, you wouldn’t be on their side.”

Treating him like some sick experiment, they’d realized that it was like Skinner’s operant conditioning: positive reinforcement worked more miracles than punishment ever could. They’d abused the scientific method in the name of chaos because he’d been too virtuous for their cause to corrupt without help.

“It took them years,” Her voice cracked as she imagined everything that he’d been made to endure, “Of hurting you and torturing you, to break you down enough to do what they wanted because you’re so strong and so good. And even then, they just had to keep starting over because a part of you fought back every fucking time!”

A drop of salted water that had come from a set of blue eyes rather than brown landed on her hand and she took a shaky breath as she looked back up to meet his bloodshot eyes; finding tears swimming in them, her own began to fall more freely. His warm hand gathered both of hers, pressing them harder against his chest as he fought to breathe.

No one had ever been so brazenly candid with him; everyone shied away from his past but not Maggie—never Maggie. She faced it with a sense of bravery, that very few others had possessed, because she knew there was light beyond the darkness that he was always so ashamed of.

Shaking her head, her voice was still thick with tears, “And it’s not fair that you had to go through that. And we can’t change the past, but you’re in control now; you can make new choices.” Taking back one of her hands, she placed it on his warm cheek and made him look down at her. Steadying her voice, she spoke plainly so there was no mistaking the words she wanted to drill into his head, “You might think you’re too broken to ever let yourself be loved but you’re wrong. You’re the one that has to decide. You just have to choose.”

‘Please choose.’

Maybe before, she would have said that it wasn’t so simple, but time had taught her that it was. For several minutes, they stood in the echoey silence of his plain apartment as he held her eyes. The intensity didn’t scare her anymore like it had at the beginning. What was the use? She already knew he could see right through her.

God, she wanted to drown in that salt blue sea for the rest of her life.

Finally, his voice cracked as he quietly asked, “You read my file?”

“Yes.” Her teeth caught her bottom lip, it slipped free as she nodded, and her face went warm. There was the guilt that she’d felt as she opened the manila folder, her eyes hungrily devouring every painful line. Taking a breath, she started, “I’m sorry, I know it was an invasion of your privacy and—”

Shaking his head at her line of thinking, Bucky cut her off cautiously, “You still…love me?”

His words were so soft, so nervous, that it broke her heart just a little more. He thought that she’d stop loving him if she knew the entire truth, but she was resolute. So, he wasn’t a saint. Neither was she—she’d been in the wrong almost as often as she’d been in the right. Neither one of them were perfect, maybe she didn’t even believe in perfection anymore, but there was a feeling that tugged at her, deep inside her chest, that maybe they were perfect for each other.

Maybe that’s what they’d been missing all along; they needed the other to make their shattered hearts whole again.

“Yes.” She exhaled, her thumb brushing over his cheek as a little smile formed on her lips, “Yes, I still love you, James.”

Pulling her in tightly, he buried his face deep in her hair and took a deep breath like she was some drug he never wanted to be clean of. That familiar, sweet almond scent sent a wave of calm crashing over his nervous system that was busy running rampant from her confession. His voice was muffled into her hair when he finally spoke again, his voice pained, “I don’t know how to do this.”

“To do what?” Maggie breathed out as her eyes drifted closed, pressing her cheek against his warm chest. Her hand rubbed his back soothingly, her nails scraping softly over the scars that were hidden beneath his shirt, over the familiar border from skin to vibranium.

“To be happy.” He croaked out, “To be in love.”

He could feel the way she nodded, never one to back down from any challenge, as she whispered, “We can figure it out together.”

“It’s always been you.” He murmured, pulling back, and taking her face in his hands to look at her closer. His eyes were still so soft, like there was some hazy halo of warmth surrounding them. His thumb dragged across her lower lip as he admitted in a secretive whisper with a little smile finally taking up residence on his tired face, “I don’t remember what it was like before I loved you.”

Standing on her toes, she used a hand behind his neck to pull him down and connect their lips for the first time in far too long. He tasted like something sweet and addicting and the way his tongue brushed against the seam of her mouth sent her head spinning. She hadn’t fully let herself miss him but, god—had she ever. Slipping his arms back around her, he lifted her with an ease that she’d long since grown used to.

Kicking off her shoes, she wrapped her legs around his hips and smiled against his lips; the short skirt rode up tightly around her thighs as she crossed her ankles and tightened her arms like she was trying to merge their separate bodies into one. All she wanted was to feel him as close as possible; she needed to feel his touch that she’d been denied. One of his hands braced her ass, holding her up easily, as the other tangled in her hair, tugging gently and making her breathe a hot sigh into his mouth.

His apartment was like a mirror image of her own, the layout flipped opposite, so as he carried her down the hall, she giggled into their slow, honeyed kiss when the memories flooded back to the very first time they’d been in the same position, running on adrenaline and pent-up sexual tension from months of dancing around each other.

“What’s so funny, peach?” He trailed his lips down her neck to the collar of her tight, cable-knit jumper and she could feel the way his own lips curled into a smile at the melodic sound of her laugh. She never would have thought that she’d miss that stupid nickname, but she had.

“I never saw this coming.” Maggie’s words were breathy as tipped her head upwards, her waves falling down her back as she exposed more of her neck to him, feeling a warmth pooling low in her belly as his teeth grazed against the thin skin, “You. Us.”

His soft hum against her throat sent a shiver down her back. Looking around, she realized that she’d never been in his room as long as she’d known him. The bed was perfectly made like something out of a catalogue with a dark navy quilt and four uniform, looking pillows. There weren’t any decorations except a single picture on the nightstand.

As he laid her back on the firm mattress, she got a closer look and grinned as he tugged her sweater off. It was them from their first trip to Louisiana. Sam had taken it while they were dancing; she’d forgotten all about it, but apparently, he hadn’t. Not even after all this time.

He’d never shown her the picture and even after they stopped talking, he never put it away.

Yanking him back down into a slow, dreamy kiss where his tongue caressed hers familiarly, she wiggled her hips to aid him in the effort to rid her of the tight skirt that hugged her thighs. As he pulled back to catch his breath, she yanked his t-shirt off and threw it over the edge of the large bed. Catching his earlobe in her teeth gently and letting it go as he shivered, Maggie murmured in his ear teasingly, “Are you going to make love to me, James?”

“You bet your sweet ass I am.” As he gently squeezed her sides, she squealed before he sat up on his knees between her splayed thighs with a grin and undid his belt and jeans. Sitting up, she propped herself up on her hands to watch with eager eyes. Kicking the offending clothing off, he tugged her further down the bed until her head was nestled comfortably on the pillows. Hovering over her, he growled, “Gonna worship my girl like she fuckin’ deserves because I love her.”

He punctuated each of the last three words with progressively hotter, wetter kisses down her neck. Peppering soft ones across her chest, he traced the lace edge of her bra before slipping a hand under her back and undoing the clasp with deft fingers. Tossing it aside, his lips trailed down between her soft breasts.

Threading her fingers into his hair, a sweet sigh left Maggie as her eyes fluttered shut and he wrapped his lips around one of her tight, pink nipples that begged for his attention, “And I love you.”

The deep groan he gave in response sent vibrations through her chest as his teeth tugged at the sensitive peak; switching his attention to its twin, he murmured against her warm skin, “Never wanna stop hearing you say that.”

“Keep this up and you won’t.”

“Mm, whatever you say, doll.” With a low chuckle, Bucky slipped his fingers beneath the elastic of her panties and grazed the pads of his fingers across silky skin. Groaning at how soaked he’d found her, Bucky slowly ground his hips into the bed, willing himself not to blow at merely touching her.

Her thighs tensed as she rocked her hips up into his touch involuntarily. The hand that didn’t have its nails digging into one of his shoulders was clenching the blanket, wrinkling the fabric that had been tucked tautly just seconds ago.

As he coated his finger in her wetness, he slipped it inside her warmth easily and she let out a quiet whine at the welcome intrusion as they caressed her velvet walls, dragging in and out slowly, “Fuck—”

“You didn’t think that I’d forgot how to make you feel good, did you?” A second finger joined his first, but the pleasant stretch was gone before she could even really enjoy it. Chuckling at the little pout on her gloss smeared lips, he licked her wetness from his digits before rolling the soft fabric down her thighs, murmuring quietly, “I know this body, baby. Know exactly what you need…”

Settling between her thighs, he tucked her legs over his broad shoulders and dragged her body closer to his by her hips. Pressing a soft kiss to her bikini line, he took his time reacquainting himself with every inch of her smooth skin. Dragging his lips down her hips, he pressed them to her mound before caressing her thighs with them, purposefully avoiding where she needed him most.

Squirming under his touch, he stilled her with large hands pressing her hips into the mattress. Blowing a little stream of cool air over her glossy folds, her whimper made his grin widen. Slipping his hands lower and lower, he used his thumbs to spread her lips, revealing her needy, pink sex to his hungry gaze, “Mm, look how wet you are, baby.” Pressing a gentle kiss to her swollen, red clit, he teased lowly, “Did you miss me?”

“Yes,” Maggie breathed out, her fingers gravitating to his hair and tangling in the soft strands like she knew he liked. He let out a groan at the gentle tug and flattened his tongue, licking a broad stripe from her entrance up to lave around her little button. The muscles in her stomach tightened beneath his fingers at the feeling and she gasped out, “Fuck, James…”

He lapped slowly at the creamy wetness that was dripping from her like the sweetest nectar. Her taste coated his tongue and he groaned at the heady essence, hooking his arms around her thighs, holding her hips tightly as she tried to keep still through the pleasure that was making her twitchy, desperate for more—for as much as he’d give her.

Bucky’s scruff made the delicate skin of her thighs sensitive and red as he sealed his lips around her clit, sucking it in erratic patterns that made her eyes roll back as she jerked her hips into his mouth, whimpering out a breathless plea, “Yes, right there!”

“That’s it, that’s my good girl.” He murmured against her cunt, his spit and her wetness dripping down his chin as he sloppily sucked and licked like he’d been starved; slipping two fingers back into her needy hole easily, she continued to babble unintelligibly for him, and he smirked. The way he could make Maggie turn off her racing mind was one of his favorite accomplishments.

Thrusting his fingers into her at a quick pace, the slick sounds made her face go red as the coil drew tighter deep in her belly. Gripping his hair tightly, she could feel the knot beginning to unwind as he sucked varying patterns on her clit, murmuring lowly, “Come for me, baby. Love the way your sweet little cunt squeezes my fingers…”

A moan was pulled from Maggie’s swollen lips as she felt her chest shudder and collapse in on itself at the sudden wave of bliss that flooded her brain. Her thighs tensed almost painfully, trapping his head between them as her toes curled. After her climax receded, she lazily grabbed for him and pulled him above her with a wordless whine.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she yanked him down to kiss his pouty, pink lips that were still glossy with her juices. He moaned into her mouth as he held himself up above her, his hardness pressing hot and heavy as it rested between their bodies. Murmuring against his mouth, she was still floating as she begged, “Need to feel you, baby.” Slipping a hand down, she pulled his length from his tight boxers, giving it slow, languid strokes that made his knees weak, “Please? I need your cock…”

Unable to deny her any longer, Bucky groaned and shed the last bit of clothing. Adjusting her beneath him, he brushed his lips sweetly against her dewy forehead as he murmured, “I’ve got you, c’mere…” Looking down between their bodies, he groaned as he traced his weeping, ruddy tip between her folds, once, twice, before using her wetness and watching as he slowly sank into her warmth, “Fuck, honey. You fit me like a goddamn glove, like this pussy was made for me.”

It had been some time since she’d felt the familiar stretch and she let out a broken whimper as she squeezed her thighs tightly around his hips. Eyes fluttering shut, he bottomed out and pressed his hips flush to hers as she agreed breathlessly, “Only you—fuck!”

Brushing some of the hair from her forehead, he stilled until her hazy, heavy-lidded eyes opened again to find his. With a smile, he pressed a sweet kiss to her lips and exhaled shakily as he dropped his forehead to hers, “I love you so goddamn much.”

“I love you too, Buck.” Those words sounded like his new favorite song, and he let out a soft moan as he slowly pulled out, relieving some of the pressure, before rolling his hips back into hers. Maggie’s nails dug into his back painlessly at the slow motion that he began.

“I’m never gonna let you go.” Setting a familiar, sensual rhythm, he watched as she allowed the pleasure to fill her with every slow thrust. She hummed at the way he fit her so perfectly, like two puzzle pieces; lacing the fingers of one of her hands with his, his words were low as his lips brushed against her ear again, “You’re mine, peach. Always.”

Nodding, Maggie pushed back against each thrust of his hips as she panted out, “And you’re mine—” A whimper was ripped from her lips as he tilted his pelvis, finding that spot deep inside of her so easily, “Yes, right there!”

“Of course, I am, baby…” He agreed, slipping his other hand down her body to circle her throbbing clit with the pads of his fingers as he growled lowly, “All yours. Always.”

His broad hips between her legs made it impossible for her to squeeze her thighs together tightly at the sensation that was just on the edge of becoming too much for her to handle. She’d been wound so tightly—no amount of time with her fingers or vibrator could ever compare to how he made her feel.

“Oh god—I’m gonna come…” Maggie’s breath hitched as she arched her back, needing to feel him pressed against her as she chased her release. Her nails dragged slowly down his back as she begged into his ear, “Come with me. Wanna feel you come inside me. Fuck, James, fill me up, please. Need it so bad…”

“My dirty girl.” Bucky praised through a clenched jaw, snapping his hips into hers faster as he felt the way his balls drew tighter from the way her walls began to clench around him. He assured her sweetly as his fingers tugged back the hood of her clit to strum the sensitive bundle of nerves without any hindrance, “I’ve got you, baby. Let go for me, right now. Let me feel that cunt milkin’ my cock, baby—”

With a gasp that pulled a sharp intake of air into her lung, Maggie felt her entire body burst into a firework show of brilliant light flashes that she could see, even with her eyes squeezed shut; for the second time, in just a few minutes, the rubber band snapped again as her orgasm washed over her and sent her reeling as she gripped his shoulder tightly, tremors rocking her body. Fluttering around his cock, she moaned as the shockwaves rippled out and his movement became sloppy.

“That’s it, fuck…” His hips jerked one last time as he pressed deep into her, his tip brushing her cervix as he spilled his release into her warmth, painting her walls with his spend. The muscles in his abdomen clenched, going harder for a minute before he could finally relax. Not bothering to slip out of her, he easily rolled on to his back and pulled her body atop of his as he mumbled with a satisfied, blissful smile on his tired face, “I love you.”

An airy giggle was exhaled from Maggie’s nose as she teased, “Are you ever going to get tired of saying it?”

His lips pressed against her forehead once again as he affectionately denied the notion, “Never.”

“Me either.”

She didn’t care that his chest was still slightly damp with sweat or that her hair was probably incredibly knotted; there was an overwhelming sense of peace that washed over her as she laid half on top of him. His fingers trailed lazily up and down her spine, going over each bump of her vertebrae slowly. She shivered at the feeling as her heartrate began to slow.

Her eyes were closed but she could feel his voice from deep inside his chest as Bucky looked down at her with an expression that she’d never seen from him before, murmuring quietly but with a fierce resolve, “I’m going to marry you.”

Once upon a time, those words had struck a cold kind of fear deep inside of Maggie, turning her heart to a frozen block of ice. It wasn’t too long ago that everything had felt so painfully temporary—even things that felt like they were meant to last forever. But now? Now, she felt like she could stop running. She’d reached her destination; this was what she’d been looking for all along and she’d finally found it. There was no chance that she was ever letting it go, that she was ever letting him go.

“Yeah,” Pressing a kiss to the middle of his chest, Maggie rested her chin on his sternum as she blinked up at him with warm, molten honey eyes. She felt whole, like every mistake that she’d made and every demon she’d fought had been worth it to find this serene peace. Meeting his gaze with a happy, golden shimmer of complete contentment in her own, she agreed softly, “You are.”

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