#bucky's cravings are priority to steve | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fandomfluffandfuck · 5 months

Note

S!! i just reread Cant Explain All The Ways You Get Me High and i’m here to give you double the kudos bc god it’s fantastic 🔥 Honestly that one and I’d Fuck Me are some of my favorites—guess I have a soft spot for your solo scenes! Would you ever explore the inverse, with sub!bucky or seb taking care of themselves? What are the differences there between how steve/chris do it?

Can't Explain All The Ways You Get Me High

I'd Fuck Me

You know, I genuinely never noticed that among those solo, jerk off, fantasy scenes, I've only included the tops and/or doms. Huh. That's interesting. I mean, literally, there's also a scene in my "For Beginners" series with Chris fantasizing about Seb subbing for him...

Chapter One of Accept It

Maybe it'd because I'm a dom? So that sort of fantasizing is closer to my heart? Maybe it's just a coincidence, lol. Who knows 🤷🏻‍♂️

Anyway--

I think it would be pretty similar, I mean, the thoughts going on would be different, of course, but very much that same heady, frantic headspace as they barrel toward orgasm.

I'm not taking requests at this time, but sometimes I can't help myself...

Immediately, I had something in mind for Sebastian:

It's been a while for Sebastian--a while since he's gotten off with all of the work he's been doing (what feels like 15 different projects all that once, he swears) and the resulting exhaustion, and it's been a while since he's seen Chris with the way their careers stretches them apart all too often. So... orgasming hasn't exactly been his top priority. However, he's got the afternoon off. Somehow, after the early morning and late nights and their dedication, his director has decided they all need an early end for this Friday.

Thank. god.

And, with his time off, his thoughts unbusied, it's the tiniest thing that sets him off.

With their dynamic and how Sebastian gets, Chris will regularly send him orders when they're apart. It helps keep Sebastian from being overwhelmed with the need to submit here and now and being unable to, shutting down instead. Order this for dinner. Wear that pair of boxer briefs today. Chose this for the premier. Prep your meals for a week. Send me a photo of you when you have a minute. Sebastian eagerly fumbles to do as Chris says, especially eager the longer they've been apart. Craving a moment of calm, both-feet-on-the-ground steadiness that comes with Chris' pride. His approval. Even if it's just a text--

Good boy.

--or if it's more of a treat like a FaceTime call or rumbling voice memo.

"You're such a good boy, Sebastian."

that leaves Sebastian with chills, head to toe, and a helpless erection.

This time, what sets him off is Chris' reminder that he needs to have real food for, at least, one meal today. He's off set, so he should find something other than what he could get at crafty. Some protiens and healthy fats. Then, when Sebastian sends him a snap of his finished plate, Chris sends him another order as if he can feel that Seb needs to occupy his mind, playing into their push pull.

Make sure to clean it up properly.

Sebastian hand washes the fucking plate, silverware, and glass, despite the equally avaliable and usable dishwasher in his rented apartment nearby to the location they're filming at.

Done!

Sebastian texts him back.

Perfect.

It's one word. And yet...

It hits Sebastian like kick to the chest. He stares at the word, biting his lip. He doesn't expect more. He knows Chris is still working himself. It's more than enough that he's even able to send him a few words back and forth. He's not looking for a follow-up. He's just staring at the word.

Perfect.

Sebastian can hear Chris' voice sliding over the syllables in his head. It echoes through him, leaving his toes curling against the kitchen tile while his eyes slide shut, vividly imagining himself at home with his dom. He's just finished preparing dinner for Chris, home cooked--something simple that he can manage without too much thought, but enough that Chris knows he put effort into it--he set the table, he served Chris his food, then he sat at the table with Chris, watched Chris eat with Chris savoring each bite with smooth swallows and heartfelt moans of approval at the taste, he let (what a hardship) Chris hand feed him bites when he so desired, and he cleaned up their dishes and table, hand washing everything. He wants to. And, now...

Sebastian feels a wobble in his knees, so he lets his phone clatter onto the countertop and grasps it tightly instead.

Now, in his mind, Chris is stalking up behind him and Sebastian's heart is in his throat, ready and waiting for Chris to crowd him against the counter and cabinets and put those big, heavy, commanding hands all over his body. Pawing at him. He wants it. He aches for Chris to bend him over the sink and fill him up, fuck him hard and fast and dirty, while he tells him that he's good. He did good. He served him so well. He takes care of him so perfectly, now he's gonna take care of his perfect sub--gonna take him and use him like he craves.

Chris doesn't.

Not even Sebastian's imaginary Chris bends to his will. He's in charge. He will do what he pleases, and Sebastian will obey his word.

Submit.

Imaginary Chris bypasses him and goes to the fridge instead, bending over--oh, Lord, that's a sight--to reach the bottom shelf on the door where the beer lives, happily awaiting to be drank.

Sebastian dries his hands from the dishes... imagined and real. Imagined, he wants to turn and watch Chris' skillful, beautiful hands crack open the bottle. He doesn't. Real, he stands in place, letting his imagination pull him away, deeper, with how imaginary Chris walks right past him again, this time sparing one hand just to proprietorily draaaag his palm against the small of the back, "join me in the living room."

It's not a question, seeking company, maybe. If you like. But, hopefully. Join me? It's a command.

Everything in Sebastian wants to follow. The gravity makes his muscles weak.

Sebastian follows.

He follows Chris like a lovesick puppy, trailing after him and panting when he arranges himself on the sofa. Always so alluring that it's unfair. How is Sebastian supposed to do anything when his lover exists in such a state? Lounging about, casually, but perfect enough to have come straight out of a photoshoot. Thick, strong thighs spread wide, giving himself room, one arm over the back of the furniture, draped and taking up all the space he likes, commanding all of the suddenly humid air in the room with a heavy, dark look in his eyes.

Sebastian swallows, saliva flooding his mouth.

Meanwhile, Chris' other hand, having come to rest on his knee before, now mimes a gesture or two that's irresistible.

Kneel.

Come here.

Sebastian's eyes fly open, shattering the delicious fantasy his mind is painting. The image so real, so much ink, that it's spilling into his real life. He can't. Sebastian whimpers out loud.

Jesus Christ.

Even in the cold light of his real, afternoon kitchen, there's that pull inside him, forcing him from his comfortable center of gravity. Like missing a step on the stairs. Exhilarating. Heart hammering.

He needs.

The ache is now terrible inside him.

More than he needs anything else, he needs to be between Chris' thighs. That's where he belongs. His vision starts to go a little hazy and useless around the corners at just the thought. Chris towering over him. Powerful and authoritative. It's been too long.

And now Seb can feel the phantom heat of Chris' knees pressing against his shoulders and the weight of Chris' hand on his head, his blunt fingernails scratching his scalp, running through his hair and messing it up. He can feel the friction of denim jeans or cotton sweats or mesh basketball shorts against his cheek, muzzling into Chris where he's packed into whatever the fuck he's wearing but shouldn't be. He should never be clothed. He should--

Fuck me.

He should be between Chris' legs.

Sebastian blinks harshly a few times, trying to clear his vision and push away the raw throb that has begun to spread from deep in his gut to the base of his cock.

Impulsively, he snatches one of his hands away from his white-knuckle hold on the counter, intending to press the heel of his palm up against himself, but--

He whines again.

Here?

He looks around, taking inventory of his current situation, Sebastian gets distracted as his eyes land on his phone, and he recalls that damn text.

Perfect.

Glittering pleasure of praise from his dominant crackles through Sebastian like a lightning strike. All over again. Suddenly, he is back between Chris' thighs. Warm and crowded and so close to falling forward and mouthing at the bulge of his hardening cock in his sweats. Overcome by hunger. He can smell his arousal. Jesus. Seb wants to melt. He wants--

He can't fucking jerk off in the kitchen of a rental.

Can he?

Sebastian whimpers to the empty room. It offers him no comfort. Not a sound.

No.

Not here.

Quickly, Sebastian snatches his phone and dashes on clumsy legs to the bedroom. He's intending on texting Chris, asking him if it's possible for him to steal a few moments away. Sebastian just wants to hear his voice. For a minute. He wants it gruff and pressed right up against his ear, telling him he's perfect and good, and, and tell him--

Sebastian flushes hot, just thinking it. Admitting it to himself for the hundredth time. No matter, it always makes him squirm.

He wants Chris to tell him he's pretty.

He wants Chris to tell him he wants to put him on display and show everyone how good and pretty and perfect and odient he is. And--

Sebastian ends up distracted. His phone ends up on the bed, where he intends to also be. Lying back, relaxing, shoving a hand haphazardly down his pants to let Chris talk him off while he incoherently whines and moans and begs, the closest they can get when so, so far apart, but... he doesn't make it.

He doesn't even make it that far.

Instead, Sebastian gasps to himself, embarrassment making his cock pulse, thinking about how Chris would answer the phone and peel the mortifying words out of his mouth, make him admit how needy he is, then tell him he'a such a good boy for admitting it and he bet he looks so pretty, flushed and horny, and... Sebastian stumbles.

He ends up on his knees.

And.

He can't get back up. Aching. He's on his knees in his rented bedroom, near to the bed, but also too far away for it to be worth it to move again when he's so fucking hard.

The back of his eyelids are painted with the sights and sounds and sensations of their living room. Hardwood floors bite sweetly into his knees. Chris' cologne and laundry detergent clinging to his clothes, fading and turned darker the closer Sebastian leans into him, sweat and musk and arousal. Chris' hands on him. Holding his shoulders. Entwinted in his hair. On his throat or the nape of his neck, squeezing. Holding. Chris' voice rumbling through him, leaving him aching. Aching. Sebastian wants--

He wants Chris' cock out of his pants and in his mouth.

He wants to stare up at Chris' face, contorted obscenely into an expression of heat and pleasure, flushed and slack, as the weight and taste of his thick cock fills Sebastian's mouth. Heavy on his tongue. Coating his throat with the taste. Stretching his lips. Chris' hips pressed against his face, forcing him down his throat and making it hard to breathe in the most incredible way. Sebastian doesn't need to breathe. He needs to taste, to suck, to lick, to kiss, to gag and choke and cry.

He wants to cry on his cock.

He wants Chris to stare down at him over the handsome line of his nose and smirk. He wants Chris to tell him he's got such a good fucking mouth through a drawn-out groan. He wants to hear Chris moan through gritted teeth. He wants to have Chris cum down his throat and make Sebastian swallow, then lick him clean, then keep him warm while he finally drinks the beer he brought into the living room with him, watching the game, and keeping his needy submissive busy all at the same time. Multitasking.

Sebastian wants--

He wants--

Frantically, Seb shoves his hand into his sweatpants and cups his himself against his body, hissing with the temperature difference between his fingers and his heated, engorged dick.

In his mind, he's prolonging the moment of Chris' orgasm. The pornographic expression on his gorgeous face. Suspended in pleasure. The intense, incredible twitches and jerks of his cock as he pumps release onto Seb's tongue. The taste. The feeling. The way, oh, God, when Chris is really, really feeling himself, he'll reach down and recklessly plug Sebastian's nose as he shoves into his tight, wet, heat deeply. And Sebastian will spin. Sebastian will get dizzy. Sebastian will fly. His lungs aching to choke and sputter but not being able to. It all makes Seb so fucking hard. He's not in control. Chris knows what's good for him. Chris knows he's good. He's good.

He's so good!

Sebastian can't help but start to actually fist himself now. He's leaking enough to go faster. Faster. The friction is wearing his nerves down to raw wire, sparking and spitting electricity throughout his whole body. He's, oh, oh, he's--

It's so fucking intense, the images flashing through his mind. Now Chris has finished with him and Sebastian's chest is heaving, his lips buzzing, his mouth still stuffed full, tears and snot and spit running down his face, a complete mess, yet still pretty and perfect to Chris--for Chris. Sebastian helplessly cries out and loses his balance, his mind going haywire, imagining sucking Chris' still half-hard cock after he's finished, and grinding against his shin, feeling, feeling--

Good.

Obedient.

Sebastian falls forward, barely bracing himself against his now outstretched hand--the hand not wrapped around his cock--rather than faceplanting on the floor. His heart pounds in his chest. Lust rushes through him. Overpowering the fear. Pleasure rising and rising and--

"Gonna show me how pretty you are, baby? You gonna cum humping me with your mouth all full, jus' like you need, sweet boy?"

In his mind, in his fantasy, Sebastian cums with a muffled moan around Chris' dick. But, in his rented apartment, crumbling onto the floor next to his bed as if he might've been praying before he drifted off to sleep, he moans embarrassingly loudly. It's nearly a wail. It's like he's been hit over the back of the head. It hits him so fucking hard.

He's demolished as the pleasure crashes over him.

White-hot and ruining. Pumping wet, messy release into his hand and the inside of his boxer briefs. Humiliating and so, so good that he doesn't give a fuck.

"Atta, boy," Sebastian hears inside his own head, Chris' voice, as he achingly shakes through the last dregs of pleasure with a whine.

Oh, God.

But, (bratty) sub Bucky is pretty distinctive, too:

Steve's on a stupid fucking mission and he took his stupid fucking super dick with him (like an asshole) but, somehow, he didn't manage to take his stupid nuclear-level sex drive with him, too. Of all the things he has to leave behind! Fucking bastard.

He knows Bucky can't cope! And somehow, he still goes out there and fights the good fight despite being retired. Newsflash, Rogers, that ain't retired.

"Ugh," Bucky half groans, half moans, caught up in his thoughts, but also caught up in the physical sensations he's dealing with. Coping.

Steve's really left Bucky with no choice now. Not with his super libido bleeding over into Bucky, like, like--Bucky shivers, stifling a moan based on principle--bleeding into him like the hot, wet feeling of Steve fucking him with too much lube and then cumming inside him with his hurricane-like super-swimmers, pumping and pumping until Bucky swears he can see it stretching out his abs like he went too hard at dinner. Too much. Those goddamn swollen, heavy balls and...

"Guh." There's no stifling a dumb noise like that. It is what it is.

What is Bucky supposed to do but order via priority shipping and shove the biggest vibrating dildo he can up his ass?

This, this--

Bucky pants, his chest heaving, practically presenting his high, tight pecs and his begging-to-be-touched nipples. If someone was here to touch them! Bucky can't fight back a whimper, thinking about Steve's serum-hot, fever-hot body against his. His fingers--cruel and mean, plucking and twisting and pinching his nipples until they're puffy and raw, and Bucky is painting his belly white again. His mouth. Those lips. Plush, hot, and slick. Always just the tiniest bite of teeth that has Bucky shouting high in the back of his throat.

His cock jumps. Aching.

Fucking Steve.

This started out of spite. Bucky was bouncing on his fake cock, growling to himself, bratty and motivated. But it's devolved into something messy and pathetic and wet.

There are tears tracking shiny, salty paths down his cheeks when they're not being smeared into the sheets. It's really into a pillowcase. Not sheets. Steve's pillow. It still smells like him, and it's perfect for muffling the sniffling, howling moans that Bucky is pulling out of himself. He misses Steve's cock so much. He misses the rest of him, too. He misses the way he holds him down and pounds into him until Bucky is sure he'll finally fucking split into two. Hammering into him. Growling and grabbing him, throwing him around and making him take it. Bruising his hips and ass. Biting his shoulders, pulling his long hair until he's arched into a weak u-shape, every noise that Bucky has enough air to make fucked out of his wet, open mouth, "uh, uh, uh--"

Bucky aches for going dumb on Steve's cock.

He doesn't want to think! He wants to be able to do absolutely nothing. Fucked dumb.

He wants Steeeeeve!

Bucky whines to himself, his thighs quivering.

He's trying to replicate the magical ability Steve has to melt his brain out of his ears by giving himself as many orgasms as he can with the thick, heavy, vibrating toy shoved deep inside him. It's beginning to hurt. There's a puddle underneath him. Overflowing with pleasure. Yet, lust is still racing under his skin. It makes him whimper and squeeze the sheets in his fists.

He can hear Steve in his head, growling at him, smacking him around, goading him into another orgasm. The only one who can take Bucky; the only one who can hold him down and make him take it.

"C'mon, baby, I know that isn't all you got. You can take it. A cockslut like you? You can always take more. There's still spunk comin' outta'ya. I want you cummin' dry, darlin'. Then, then, I'll think about being done with you."

Instinctively, Bucky wants to do it. He wants to give it all to Steve. He has to. There's no other option.

So, he arches his back deeper. Blooming. His muscles complain, hurting with the stretch despite his daily yoga routine. He just can't--he's been at this for hours. He misses his fella bad.

He can't fucking be bothered, he's too frantically horny and too much of a spoiled pillow princess, to reach back and fuck his hot, puffy, wet hole with the vibrating toy. The closest he gets is jacking his cock. Even that's not normal, normally he has Steve to do that for him. Or, if Steve's not doing it for him because he's working too hard at working his cunt out--stringing him out until he's incoherent and stupid--Bucky is grinding against the bed, the couch, the floor, or whatever Steve has bent him over, unable to wait a minute longer. Right now, jerking off, he's so wet. His dick is swollen, and he can feel his pulse throbbing through it. He keens. Arching and spreading.

He feels fucked out and open but he knows he could be more. He could be hotter, he could be puffier, he could be wetter. If he pulled the dildo out of his hungry hole, he would be gaping. He could be gaping more if Steve had his way with him. Fucking him with that thick, thick cock, then getting frisky and sticking in his thumbs in alongside his dick. Prying him open. Wider and wider. Holding his hole open and feeling his own slick shaft thrusting in and pulling out as he ruins him.

He's thinking about Steve ruining him. He's thinking about Steve fucking him until he passes out--it ain't a true Rogers event until that happens, after all. He's thinking about Steve's strong fingers, scratching down his back, shamelessly groping his ass, and opening his hole. He's thinking about that fucking cock. He's thinking about--

Bucky doesn't want to think!

He wants to be ruined.

With an overwhelmed sob, Bucky collapses facefirst into his man's pillow and cums. Again. Crying out and jerking, soaking the bed.

The minute Steve gets home, he's demanding to be fucked within an inch of his life. Please. He'll get on his knees and beg. He'll break out the puppy-dog eyes and pout and beg. He'll offer to do whatever the hell, bendy painful (not hot, definitely, definitely. not. hot.) position his dog of a boyfriend wants. Anything. He neeeeeeeeds that dick.

#enjoy lol #asks #fandomfluffandfuck #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #evanstan #sebastian stan #chris evans #rpf #real person fanfiction #sub bucky #dom steve #dom chris #sub seb #subastian #sub sebastian

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loveforpreserumsteve · 6 months

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Love Grows (demon!Bucky and pre-serum!Steve omegaverse au)

THE DIFFERENCE at Dr. Pierce's office was obvious and reassuring. The receptionists were kind, the nurses were personable, and the doctor, himself, made Steve feel like he and his baby were top priority. No wonder he delivers all the 'Society babies'. I'm not sure I'll want to see another doctor ever again!

Dr. Alexander Pierce was simply wonderful. A tall sun-kissed man with sandy-blond hair that was graciously going white around his temples. Steve had seen him before, but couldn't think where. Perhaps in one of those magazines he had featured in. Nonetheless, Dr. Pierce seemed knowledgeable and old-fashioned but in a comforting way like his dad or his paw paw.

"Please don't google your symptoms," Dr. Pierce said after Steve questioned how much nausea was normal. "Every pregnancy is different, and google will give you diagnoses that will keep you up at night and give you articles that describe what you're going to feel in the third week of the third month which are only going to worry you. No pregnancy was ever exactly like the ones written. And don't listen to your friends either. They'll have had experiences very different from yours and they'll be absolutely certain that their pregnancies were the normal ones and that yours is abnormal."

Steve nodded, "Dr. Cho prescribed some vitamins, should you send out the order now that I'm not seeing her?"

"No, no pills," he said. "Peggy fixes up herbal drinks. She's done it for a few other patients who live in her building and I'm sure she'll do so for you too. It'll be fresher, safer, and more vitamin-rich than any pill on the market. And another thing; don't be afraid to satisfy your cravings. If you want pickles on ice cream in the middle of the night, you go right ahead and eat it. You'll be surprised at some of the strange things your body will ask for in these next few months. And any questions you have, call me. Day or night. Call me, not your parents or your friends. That's what I'm here for. And I'd like to see you in a week."

"A week? Dr. Cho had me scheduled for four weeks."

"I'm not Dr. Cho," Dr. Pierce smirked, turning to his laptop so he could quickly add something to Steve's file. "And I'd like to see you weekly since this is your first baby. We want to make sure that everything goes smoothly. Stress is very bad for the baby as well as for the daddy. This'll give you more peace of mind. Now, any more questions?"

Worrying his lower lip, Steve racked his mind. When he couldn't come up with any, he shook his head.

"Well, if you do, don't forget to contact me," Dr. Pierce added, standing.

For a moment, the older man just stood there with one hand on the door. Steve continued to sit in the chair to the side of the examination table until the older man asked, "Shall we."

Once Steve was on his feet, Dr. Pierce opened the door and led the omega out to the reception desk. He informed the nice beta woman when he'd like to see Steve next and made sure that she worked around Steve's schedule. Then, he companionably patted Steve on his shoulder and left to see his next patient.

Everything was right and bright and lovely. Steve left the office feeling lighter than he had in a good while. Hodge was happy with his current roles and was looking forward to new ones every day. Steve itched to create something for his next art show. And little Arthur-or-Beatrice was getting bigger every day than they were the day before.

Feeling serene and with a skip in his step, Steve headed home to pick up his sketchpad and his watercolors. Before he left for the park, Steve checked out his reflection. Already there was a noticeable difference. He didn't have a bump just yet, but he looked fuller; all of his angles softened.

Opening the door, he paused. Coming face-to-face with Bucky whose hand was raised as though he had been planning to knock. Steve's brows were arched high on his forehead and Bucky's expression appeared to mirror his.

Bringing his fist down, Bucky's cheeks had a hint of rosiness to them as he sheepishly smiled. "Hi."

"Hi," Steve good-humoredly scoffed. Gesturing behind himself into his apartment, Steve said, "If you're looking for Hodge, he's not here."

"Oh, um, no," Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets. "I was actually going to ask if you wanted to get some lunch."

Before Steve could say anything, his stomach spoke for him. Loudly, it growled and Steve couldn't help but agree, "Lunch sounds wonderful."

"Good," Bucky's grin grew. Noticing Steve's portfolio tote, Bucky asked, "Going to do some more sketches?"

"Watercolors today," Steve corrected, locking the door.

As they walked to the elevator, Bucky kept glancing over at Steve. A soft smile remained on his face and, finally, Steve asked, "What?"

"It's nothing," Bucky shrugged, gesturing for Steve to enter the elevator first. "You just seem like you're in a good mood."

"I am in a good mood."

"So, I take it that your appointment with Alex went well."

"It did," Steve beamed up at the alpha. "I even got to hear their heartbeat for the first time."

Bucky's gaze bounced down to Steve's abdomen before locking on his eyes once more, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Steve nodded, touching his stomach. "It was amazing."

"I can only imagine."

"I got a picture of them too."

Bucky let Steve exit first and asked, "Already?"

"Mhmm," Steve removed his wallet and retrieved the folded black and white picture. Showing Bucky, "They don't look like a baby yet, but that's them. Little Cassius-or-Ada."

"Cassius-or-Ada?"

Nodding, "Or Franklin-or-Hallie. I'm still undecided."

Gazing down at the ultrasound picture, Bucky said, "I've always liked Rosemary."

Although Steve liked the name too, he teased, "Perhaps you've been spending too much time with Peggy and her herb garden."

Chuckling, "Perhaps." Handing the picture back, their hands brushed and Steve could feel something. Not a spark. No, it was softer, kinder. It was like slipping into a hot bath after a long, stressful day. It was like coming home. And wasn't that just the strangest feeling.

"I still like Rosemary though," Bucky continued as though nothing had happened.

Running his finger over the vague shape of his baby, Steve tenderly tucked the picture back into his wallet. Joking, "Maybe I should just name them Terri, short for Terrigen. I really owe it all to that vile root."

"You could always go for something sweeter," Bucky offered, walking with Steve towards the park. "A flower. A Daisy or Poppy or a Magnolia."

Biting back his grin, Steve led the way over to a hotdog vendor. He could see Bucky with a sweet flowerchild. One with soft waves of caramel hair and missing teeth smiles. Maybe two, a Daisy or a Poppy. The pair would be as thick as thieves as they chased each other and made crowns out of dandelions. And, well, what if there was a little Magnolia on her omega father's hip? Bald as a cue ball because she took after her omega –

"... father?"

Realizing that Bucky had been talking, Steve blinked reality back into focus, "Sorry? I missed that."

"I asked, 'are you excited to be a father?'"

"Oh," Steve blushed. Directing his attention to the hotdog in his hand, he questioned, "What do you think?"

Nodding, Bucky smiled before taking a bite of his hotdog.

"What about you?" Steve asked around a mouthful. "Do you want kids?"

"I do," Bucky confirmed, following Steve over to a bench.

Taking another bite, Steve said, "I'm sure you'll be a good –"

"Oh, wow!" Someone interrupted.

The two men redirected their attention to the person standing on the path. She was a taller woman in her mid-sixties, at least. Her dark hair had grown out enough to show the gray of her roots.

Taking a step closer to them, she looked starstruck, "It's you. It's really you. Isn't it?"

Steve looked over at Bucky as the alpha shifted uncomfortably. Clearly, the brunet was more well-known than Steve had originally assumed. He'd have to google him later to see the work that he had done or the people that he had worked with or... something, since people were recognizing him off the street.

"It's me," Bucky confirmed, uneasily. Sheepishly, the alpha glanced over at Steve before looking back to the woman. Of course, that only made the woman look at Steve, causing the omega to busy himself with the foil of his hotdog wrapper. "And who are you?"

"Oh," she giggled, taking a step closer. "Dottie Underwood, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well, Dottie," Bucky smiled. Then, he looked back to Steve. Which, again, made the woman, Dottie, do so as well. Bucky cleared his throat, regaining her attention, "Now, if you'll excuse us."

"Oh, of course," Dottie agreed, flustered by meeting thee Bucky – what's his last name? "I'm sorry for bugging you, sir."

With a quirked eyebrow, Steve watched as the older woman continued down the path. Every so often she would turn back to look at them on the bench, but she didn't walk back to them. And for that, Steve was thankful.

Once it was just the two of them, Steve questioned, "'Sir?'"

Bucky's naturally white skin began to redden, "Let's never talk about that again, yeah?"

"Whatever you say," Steve attempted to fight his smile. For good measure, he added, "Sir."

Dramatically, Bucky groaned in annoyance and embarrassment while he hid his face. Steve couldn't help but laugh. Peeking out from between his fingers, a smile broke across Bucky's handsome face, crinkling up to his steel-blue eyes. Butterflies fluttered in Steve's stomach while his heart stuttered in his chest. A soft, sincere contentedness warmed him through the bond, and Steve wondered what Hodge was doing.

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cake-writes · 2 years

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Mini Master List - Bucky x Reader

(updated... idk when, it’s been a minute LOL)

🏆 Greatest Hits 🌸 Let’s go on a feels trip 🔥 Get your panties wet 🥺️ Sad bitch hours

All of my readers are female unless otherwise specified. An 18+ rating doesn’t necessarily mean smut (but it usually does!)

[low priority for updates] means I will be continuing the fic!!! I’m just focusing on finishing some of my other WIPs before I do. Please stop sending me asks if I’m continuing these fics, thank you! 😤

~~~

Bucky Barnes x Reader

CHAPTER FICS

Compromise (18+) 🏆🌸 You didn’t want to trust him again, because every time you did, Bucky broke your heart just a little more. Deep down, though, you wanted to get along with him. You wanted your daughter to know her father. You’d always wanted that. It just required a compromise. Eventual Smut.

Six (18+) 🏆🌸🥺️ Bucky knew that there were more important things for him to worry about. He still had to work through the horrors of his past, never mind his present, which was the exact reason why he honed right in on your petty bullshit. You distracted him from the things he didn’t want to think about. You also drove him up a fucking wall. (TW: eating disorder.) Eventual Smut.

Be Free (18+) 🔥 When Natasha starts to withdraw from you, it’s the last straw – so you go elsewhere for the affection you crave, and end up in way over your head. (Warning: cheating.) Smut. → Multi Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Natasha

Bad Company (18+) You work for SHIELD, but because of the pandemic you’re working from home. Unfortunately, you haven’t really been able to keep up with the housework with all the stress from isolation. Bucky offers to help. Eventual Smut.

Ruse (18+) Natasha ropes you into her plan to help Bucky's mental state: temporarily relieving him from his avenging duties to be your bodyguard. There’s no threat, of course, and it’s a terrible idea – but it just might work. Eventual Smut.

Drift (18+) 🏆 It does feel kind of nice, having a more experienced agent take care of you, but if you weren’t so completely fucked up right now you’d be mortified. It’s your first mission, for one, and for two, you barely know him. Hell, you still call him Mr. Barnes, but here he is, saying honey and sweetheart to make you feel a little better. (Warnings: age gap (not huge), subtle DD/lg undertones.) Eventual Smut.

No Vacancy (18+) 🏆🌸🔥 You and Bucky have been on so many missions together, you’ve lost count. How is it that you’ve never shared a bed until now? (Warning: kinda-sorta dark fic, dubious consent, repeated somnophilia by both Bucky and Reader, rough/angry sex with lots of feels, okay?) Smut.

making the beast beautiful (18+) 🌸🥺️ Bucky knows the struggle, the pain, the emptiness. He understands. And some days, he still struggles – even told you once how low he’s been. But Steve? Your sweet, loving husband of a year and a half? No, Steve doesn’t understand, no matter how hard he tries, which is why you finally give in to your most self-destructive temptation of all: your preoccupation with his best friend. (TW: clinical depression, bpd, cheating.) Eventual Smut.

Forever Yours [low priority for updates] Two lovebirds exchange letters during WWII.

Activation (18+) 🥺️🔥 [low priority for updates] The Asset’s behaviour is half-compliant at best and fully erratic at worst – and to keep him in line, you put him to use for your own… needs. (Warnings: all of them!!!) Smut.

Breathe (18+) 🏆 [low priority for updates] Bucky takes a history class at his local university in hopes of catching up on the last few decades, on everything he’s missed whilst under Hydra’s control – but he winds up learning a lot more than what’s on the syllabus. Eventual Smut.

ONE-SHOTS

Risk (18+) 🏆🔥 You love it when Bucky talks dirty to you in other languages. You love it even more when you discover what he’s been saying all this time.

Control (18+) 🏆🌸🔥 Bucky isn’t usually one to relinquish control, but this time he does.

Promise (18+) 🔥 A promise is what he offers you. It’s the least he can do.

Sin (18+) 🏆🔥 (TW: incest. dubcon due to sex pollen.) Bucky’s the only one who can help you, but there’s just one small problem: he’s your brother.

Fleeting 🌸 Love is like war: easy to begin, but too hard to stop. Set in the 1940s.

Scars (18+) 🥺️ (TW: self-harm.) Bucky has scars, and so do you.

Comfort (18+) 🥺️ (TW: trauma.) Bucky helps you remember what it’s like to feel again.

Reparations (18+) 🔥 Bucky makes amends for the things he did to you a long time ago.

Earn It (18+) 🏆🔥 Straight-up filthy anal. Enough said.

DRABBLES

Six Steamy Sentences (18+) 🔥

Bucky makes you feel small and protected

Bucky drives through the night with you by his side

Bucky x Reader x Natasha (18+) 🔥

→ Dialogue Prompts

“I can see you undressing me with your eyes.”

“Do you fantasize about me?”

“I’m not wearing panties.”

“Stop trying to kiss me while I’m trying to yell at you!”

“You don’t have to act like you’re okay.” (18+) (tw: death) 🥺️

“Just sit down and let me take care of you.” 🌸

→ Smutty Dialogue Prompts 🔥

“Slip your hand between your legs for me.” (18+)

“I love the way you taste.” (18+) 🏆

“I love you.” (18+)

“Come sit on Daddy’s lap.” (18+)

“Didn’t think I could get you any more wet.” (18+)

“You can get rough with me; I won’t break.” (18+) 🌸

“This coat closet is a little cramped, don’t you think?” (18+)

“I can show you just how flexible I am.” (18+)

“I don’t care where we do it, I just need you now!” (18+)

“You’re the only person I wanted to be with tonight.” (18+)

OTHER FUN STUFF

Bucky’s Apartment: an analysis 🏆

Bucky’s Murder Strut™️ and other headcanons

Bucky is an environmentalist!

#cake's organising her blog again #pls ignore

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peteyprecious616 · 2 years

Text

Better memories with you

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky x reader

Summary: He always had bad memories that he could never forget, Hydra, Thanos...but when he sees something on you, something that he associated with a bad memory, looked good on you. Maybe some memories could be forgotten with a little help.

Word count: ~1.2k

A/N: Just a little drabble about Bucky's hat from civil war. I think its pretty cute. And it really is a staple to being kept hidden in the marvel universe. Im working on another Bucky fic at the moment. Let me know what you think!

Warnings: Nothing :) just Bucky working through his trauma

Bucky had many fuzzy memories, something that he tried to work on for years as he recovered. The small pocketbook that he carried around did help in some moments where he needed the reminder. But the only memories he could remember vividly,

were always the ones he did not want to relive.

Small items or certain street names that would come across his view on a lazy stroll around Brooklyn made him feel sick. The Winter Soldier's hands crept up his back as he grabbed his head out of nowhere, making him look at the reminding item.

He never took those trails for a second time; closing his eyes when he saw something a certain color, mostly red, and taking another path to find a way to catch his breath.

He knew that he could have his life back, he had this court-mandated therapy out of the way, making amends with the people he hurt. Families that he separated from his early days as an assassin.

He believed that he could be a better man after Shuri and Wakanda helped him get rid of those forbidden words he never wanted to hear again.

If he saw those words in a book, he would shut it slowly, almost too gently, and set it in a small box in his closet, the box that held the most of his worries and harsh memories behind the shadows of his black-colored clothes.

He worked on building relationships with people, even Sam, which was the most difficult but he did it. He wanted to show others, mostly Steve, that he could do things on his own. Without someone telling him that he had to do it. Or to make him feel better, but to make others happy.

And in that slow process, he met you.

—

You heard Bucky's low voice through the living room walls from the bedroom of his small apartment. The locks on windows sounded softly through the hallway. His padded footprints made haste as he checked all of the objects that could be turned on were off. Everything had to be in its place before you stepped out the door.

Heading to the farmer’s market was a weekly occurrence for the two of you. A small, calm routine that you both enjoyed doing on your time off. Small, short moments for both of you to spend time together.

You worked a small desk job, a boring 9-5 on the weekdays. But on the weekend,

Bucky was all yours. You lived for these moments where you were just his. His only priority was your attention.

As you heard his shoelaces hit together, you started to scramble to finish your outfit for the day, a simple black shirt and leggings, a comfortable outfit that challenged your everyday suits for the office.

You felt great and relaxed. Something that you craved constantly; What you also craved for Bucky to have, but we're still working on that feeling; together.

It was still a new feeling to you. A new feeling to Bucky is to have someone in his safe space. You both worked up to you staying in his apartment when you both agreed on it.

He felt secure and certain around you. So he tried to be more open to new experiences. And once he took that step,

Oh god, he would never let it go.

The sweet smell of your perfume that stained his only leather couch that consumed his small living room was addicting. The small acts of kindness you left around his house, your wrinkled shirt laying by his bed in the morning; A warm cup of black coffee that sat next to an empty one on his small island counter after he heard his apartment door creak shut as you headed to work.

He only wanted to have new experiences with you.

So as he heard you in his small bedroom that he never really used unless you accompanied him to bed. That warm, pure feeling overcame him as he waited for you.

He loved to wait for you because he knew he had someone to wait on. Someone is there for him.

As you looked in the small mirror that sat in front of Bucky’s bed frame, you looked at your minimal outfit. You needed something to complete the look. A small item that would make the outfit just right.

As he worried for you to join him he walked back to see you.

You looked in the mirror, hoping for ideas or just keeping the outfit as it is. It was just a trip to the farmer’s market. You didn’t need to impress anyone.

Except you wanted to impress Bucky a little.

But as you felt his eyes catch you from the reflection of his mirror. His arms wrapped around you softly, hearing a sigh escape your lips.

“It just needs something else, Bucky.”

You looked towards your clothes, hoping for something to click. To magically appear on your body.

“It's pretty sunny out today. Maybe a hat?” You asked yourself, somewhat to him.

You didn’t have any hats to your name. All of them are left at your apartment. Maybe a pair of sunglasses that you had in your purse. That could work.

As he saw you struggle to finish your look, he thought of something.

It had been years. A small reminder of black that sat in the back of his closet. Never wanting to be remembered or found by Bucky’s hands.

But it might look good on you.

His hands slipped from your waist, walking towards the forbidden box. He shuffled through his hanging clothes grabbing the black hat.

He held it gently in his hands.

He just wanted to hide from hydra. A small apartment is hidden away from the world.

He just needed groceries. Maybe some sweet plums and fruits that he could enjoy.

A small moment of sweetness. In a world of sour.

The red henley and the black hat;

A simple outfit that screamed: “simple man” that kept him hidden in the crowds of the busy farmers market.

But that terrifying stare of recognition. The newspaper fell from the man's hands.

He had been caught.

Even in the simple black hat.

“Do you think this would work?” He mumbled as his eyes still held on the black cap.

It was perfect. You loved it.

You nodded and smiled his way as he walked over to the mirror. He put it over your head with ease, a bit big but a cozy feeling. Your small strands of hair fall from the sides of the cap. Your eyes were hidden under the bill.

It looked like just a hat to you. It almost looked normal to him.

“How does it look?” You saw his gaze as you looked from under that bill of the hat. Waiting for his answer.

It looked good on you. Something he thought was bad, but it looked brand new on your head.

“It fits you.” He said surprisingly as it slipped from his tongue, as he fixes it to straighten it.

His frown was now a smirk that sat upon his face.

Maybe the hat had memories attached to it. But as he saw the small smile that covered your face when the hat covered your head.

He thought about how he could attach new memories to the hat.

Better memories with you.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #tfatws!bucky barnes #tfatws!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #marvel #marvel fic #i love plums #give bucky plums

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pastpatientlywaitingforimagines · 3 years

Text

in all of our phases | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 17.7K

Summary: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Enhanced!Reader AU where Bucky comes back from Wakanda to live in the compound for a while after Civil War and before Infinity War. Otherwise mostly canon timeline compliant. He uses the extra time I gave him to attempt to confess his love to you. You’re welcome.

aka James Buchanan Barnes is a simp for 17k words aka All the times Bucky woke up without you in his arms and the one time he did aka Bucky vs every trope you can think of

Warnings: canon level violence, mild swearing, romance, very vaguely implied smut, mentions of hospitals, injuries, death, trauma. SPOILERS for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Captain America: Civil War, Black Panther, Avengers: Infinity War, Avengers: Endgame, TFATWS, Black Widow

SOUNDTRACK, TRACKLIST

darling, the moon is still the moon in all of its phases -isra al-thibeh | on becoming

Bucky Barnes was not the type to fall in love. Before the war, he was just interested in dating around. After the war… well, let’s just say he had other priorities. No, Bucky wasn’t the type to fall in love- and then he met you.

It wasn’t intentional, the feelings he harbored for you. He didn’t mean to fall in love. It just so happened that you were unlike anyone he had ever met and as soon as he realized how much he enjoyed being in your presence it occurred to him that he might be in deeper than he originally thought.

You had first become friends with Bucky on the roof of the compound in the middle of the night. Though he denied it, it was his nightmares that kept him awake. You claimed insomnia, though Bucky was almost positive your own dreams kept you awake as well. There was a certain vulnerability that came from 2AM conversations that easily shifted the topic of conversation. Long talks about nothing turned into discussing the horrors of your pasts, sharing trauma between you.

For Bucky, it was the time he spent captured by Hydra. It was big, it was traumatic, and it had caused him to lose over 70 years of his life. His story was that of a soldier, and you were always quick to remind him that it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t the Bucky that you knew that would do the horrific things that the Winter Soldier did, and yet it was totally normal for him to feel guilty because he is a good person. Something about the way you validated his feelings made him believe you more than he did anyone else.

Your story was a little bit different. You had been grown in a lab, your enhanced abilities derived from plant cells that had mutated into your biology. Your life was far from normal, and it only got crazier when Natasha and Clint invaded the lab on a mission for SHIELD. They took you back with them, convinced that your powers could be used for good. Clint taught you how to fight and how to harness your power into something more useful. Natasha taught you how to survive in the outside world and helped you acclimate to life as both a SHIELD agent and a regular person.

He decided very early on that his feelings for you were a secret that he would take to the grave. He was fairly certain Steve had figured it out himself, the product of a friendship that spanned more than just a normal lifetime, but he’d never admit it if asked directly. The only person he would ever admit it to would be you, if he could only find the perfect moment to tell you.

That’s how he found himself set out looking for you as soon as he arrived back to the Avenger’s Compound from a mission months later. You had been working on two halves of the same objective halfway across the world from each other. You, Natasha, and Clint had gone to Australia to dismantle a Hydra unit that had popped up, while Steve, Sam, and Bucky had been following up on an associated unit in Europe that was crucial in the success of the mission. As much as he liked working with Steve and Sam, it had been two weeks since Bucky had been in your presence and he was craving your company.

Bucky had expected you to be with Clint and Natasha when he found them in the kitchen of the compound.

“Finally, you’re back,” Natasha commented when she saw the three men enter the room.

“Sam wanted to take the scenic route,” Bucky grumbled, crossing the room so he could check down the hallway towards your room. He wasn’t going to waste time making small talk if you weren’t there.

“We do all this traveling and never get to see anything. I just wanted to visit the Leaning Tower of Pisa and get a photo for my nephews.” Sam explained. “I’m sure your girlfriend doesn’t mind us being a little late.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky shot back over his shoulder before he got further down the hall. He was only met by your closed door, a sure sign that you weren’t inside. It was no secret that you hated being enclosed in a room alone, even by your own doing, though Bucky was the only one who knew it was because you had been locked inside your room at the lab as punishment for ‘misbehaving’. He wanted to run back down the hallway and demand information from Natasha and Clint, but he couldn’t do that without drawing attention to himself.

He took the opportunity to consider how mad you’d be at him for roughing up your best friends as he stalked back towards the kitchen, but abandoned the thought as soon as Natasha’s head turned to him. She was ready to offer information instead of being forced to share.

“She’s downstairs in the med bay.”

This time, Bucky did run.

His mind was racing as fast as his feet were as he pushed past Steve and back towards the stairs he had come up moments before. You hadn’t told him you were hurt, he had just been talking to you over your comm the day before. You had seemed confident about the last part of your mission, nothing to indicate that you could possibly get hurt. Natasha hadn’t given him any specifics, either. You could be dying, for all he knew.

He didn’t stop running until his eyes found you, your lips turned downward in what seemed to be a fitful sleep. Bucky opened the glass door quietly, stepping just across the threshold. You had a few cuts and scrapes on your face and an angry bruise on your collarbone, though nothing out of the ordinary for a mission and definitely not something you’d end up in the med bay for. He had seen you roll your eyes at Clint forcing you to get stitches after a particularly rough fight, whatever it was that had you here in the infirmary had nothing to do with the superficial injuries on your skin.

You shifted in your sleep, arm moving up to rest on your stomach. There were bandages wrapped around the entirety of your right hand and wrist, stopping just below your elbow. As soon as Bucky took another step forward, your eyes fluttered open.

The default panic in your expression was replaced by a soft smile when you recognized the man standing in front of you.

“Hey,” you managed, “welcome home.” You moved over slightly, making room on the mattress. Though you tried to hide it, Bucky noticed the way you grimaced in pain as you moved. He gently sank onto the bed next to you, one arm slinking over your pillow and the other resting across your stomach to trace patterns into your exposed elbow with metal fingertips. He watched your skin erupt in goosebumps, a pleased sigh escaping your lips when your head fell sideways to rest on his chest. You seemed abnormally groggy, eyelashes brushing closed every now and then.

“You okay, sweets?” Bucky asked, mindlessly writing Russian letters into your skin. He could feel your muscles relaxing with every touch.

“Better now,” you smirked, “an asshat Hydra goonie shut a steel door in my face this morning and I had to bust through it so we could finish the mission.”

There was no way Bucky could hide the admiration in his voice, “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I can’t,” you laughed quietly, taking no offense to his words. Bucky was convinced your powers were magic despite the number of times you told him it was just science, but super strength wasn’t in your arsenal. “We had no other choice so I made it work.”

“Of course you did, you’re amazing,” he said, lips pressed into the crown of your head.

“Don’t let Steve hear you say that,” you quipped lightly. Of all the things Bucky loved about you, your relationship with his best friend was one of his favorites. You had met Steve first, of course, and had been there when Bucky joined the team. You often teased the both of them about ‘their first love’, and it only made him adore you more.

“Where have you been?” you yawned.

“Sam wanted to play tourist. He said something about photos for his nephews.”

“His nephews are infants.”

“That’s what I said,” Bucky laughed, “so how long are you stuck down here for?”

“I wish I knew, they won’t tell me.”

“Why not? Clearly you’re uncomfortable. You’re not going to heal if you’re stressed out.”

“I told them that but they didn’t listen. I’d see myself out but they gave me a sedative while my arm was being set and I haven’t completely slept it off yet.” As far as Bucky was concerned, that was all the permission he needed pull himself gently from your embrace. As soon as he stood, your lip stuck out in a pout at the loss of contact.

“Where are you going?” Bucky slid his arms underneath you, effectively lifting your whole body along with the blanket you were wrapped in.

“I’m getting you out of here,” he grunted as he kicked the door open, making you giggle.

“Can we stop in the kitchen on the way? I think Peter left some ice cream in the freezer and it’s all I’ve been thinking about since I’ve been back.” You yawned again and your fingers grasped at the front of his shirt.

“What’s that thing you always say? Go big and go away?”

“Go big or go home,” you reminded him with a tired laugh. Even half conscious, your eyes still sparkled in the most enchanting way. Bucky’s focus was forced to shift from watching you to the footsteps approaching you from an adjacent hallway. He ducked behind a doorway, careful not to shake you with the sudden movement. You were watching his expression closely, not having heard what he did until whomever it was had passed. Based on the gait Bucky guessed it was Pepper, probably heading down into the lab to find Tony.

Once she had passed, Bucky carried you as fast as he could up the stairs, helping you sit up on the counter in the kitchen while he rummaged around in the freezer. He found the carton with only minimal difficulty, handing it to you along with two spoons before scooping you up again and walking down the hallway to his room.

“How long do you think we have before they come looking for me?” you asked, bumping your shoulder into his once you were sitting next to him on his bed, ice cream between you.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky replied, turning his spoon over thoughtfully in his mouth, “they’ll have to get through me first, I won’t let them take you back there.”

“Ok, tough guy,” you teased, though Bucky could already see the way you were more relaxed than you had been confined in the med bay.

The carton was empty long before there was a knock at Bucky’s door. You sat up from your all too comfortable position lounging in Bucky’s arms at the sound, pressing yourself further away from whoever was on the other side. Bucky rose slowly, metal hand caressing your knee reassuringly before he crossed the room. Though his super soldier abilities were sometimes a curse, he was grateful to know exactly who was waiting for him.

“Barton,” he addressed the man standing on the other side.

“Is (y/n) with you?” Clint wasted no time. Bucky considered his options. He could lie, but he suspected Clint already knew the answer to his own question. He could tell the truth, and fight the skilled archer hand to hand, or he could offer a question in return. His eyes met Clint’s, locking them in a cold stare.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Look, Bucky, I don’t want to fight you over this. I just need to know that (y/n) is ok and not wandering the compound somewhere when she’s hurt.”

“You let them put her down there. They gave her a sedative. Of all people you should know she doesn’t like being down there-“

“Bucky,” his outburst was interrupted by you calling quietly from over his shoulder, “it’s alright. Clint, I’m not going to go wandering the compound until I can do so safely.”

“Promise?” his eyes never left Bucky’s as he talked to you, returning the super soldier’s stare.

“I promise.” There wasn’t anything Bucky could do that would be more convincing than the exchange that had happened between you and Clint, but that didn’t stop him from trying to get the archer to go away as soon as possible.

“I heard the kid left some ice cream in the freezer, it’s yours if you want it.” Bucky heard you snort from behind him at his offer, but Clint didn’t notice, instead expressing his appreciation for the tip.

“It wasn’t his fault I got stuck down there,” you said once the door was closed and Bucky was rejoining you on his mattress.

“Was it Romanoff’s?” his eyes narrowed, watching you settle contently into his side. He pulled a blanket up to your shoulders, hoping the fleece would negate the cold metal of his arm against your skin.

“No,” your eyes rolled, “Nat and Clint had nothing to do with it. I asked to go.”

“Why would you do that?” Bucky knew for a fact that you usually tried to avoid the med bay at all costs, even if it meant doing janky first aid alone in your bedroom. You bit your lip, obviously still uncomfortable thinking about being downstairs.

“My hand was really messed up, I wouldn’t have been able to set it myself. I wasn’t about to risk losing function of it just because I’m afraid of the infirmary. Nat and Clint tried to figure out every possible alternative before I finally told them I would just go where there was a higher chance of making it out with two working hands.”

“I know someone who could have made you a new one.”

“I don’t think the team could handle two Wakandan prosthetics. We’d finish missions before anyone else even showed up.” You shifted, resting your bandaged hand across his stomach and looking up at him with soft eyes, “I wouldn’t mind taking a vacation to Wakanda, though.”

You weren’t teasing anymore, changing the subject to a tangible goal for your future.

“You’d like it there, it’s nothing like this,” he gestured to the grey walls of the compound, “everything there is so…. vibrant. And you’d get along well with Shuri.”

“We’ll go once my hand is good, ok?”

“Mmm,” Bucky pressed his lips to the top of your head, “sounds like a plan to me.”

You sighed contently, eyes finally fluttering shut for the final time. Bucky’s thoughts were left to run wild fantasizing a trip to Africa with you. He was pretty certain you had never taken a vacation in your life. To him it seemed like you were held captive by SHIELD and the Avengers just as much as you had been at the lab, but you were constantly telling him that you had more free will in the compound than you ever did before.

He wanted to listen to you talk with Shuri, even if he didn’t understand half of the scientific jargon that came out of your precious mouth. He wanted to walk the streets of the city, buying anything you laid your hands on just to see you smile. He wanted to show you where he spent his time healing, where the Winter Soldier became the White Wolf.

You were fully asleep, breathing slowly against the material of his shirt. You looked peaceful in a way that Bucky never got to see when you were conscious. Though you were one of the more relaxed residents of the compound, your closeness to him revealed all of your turmoils. He watched the way your eyes moved under closed lids, half expecting you to wake from whatever dream you were having. The faint smile on your lips contradicted his worry about nightmares, letting him finally doze off to the pattern of your chest moving against his.

For the first time in a long time, Bucky wanted to live for the future instead of running from his past, but he still wasn’t ready to tell you how he felt.

…

He could pinpoint exactly the moment he realized he was in love with you. It was at a gala Tony held for the Stark Relief Foundation. Bucky had spent the entire time across the room from you, entranced in your movements as you chatted with Natasha and Wanda.

“Nat looks great tonight,” Steve sauntered up to his best friend, acknowledging his line of sight. When Bucky only grunted, unable to tear his eyes away from you, Steve amended his earlier statement, “but it’s not Nat you’re staring at, is it?”

“I’m not staring.” To try to be more convincing, Bucky finally faced his friend.

“Sure you aren’t,” he smirked, “you should ask her to dance.”

“Nobody else is dancing, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ask her to dinner then. Just do something before she catches you drooling.”

“That’s great advice. Thanks, Captain America,” Bucky deadpanned, trying to be subtle about the way he cast his gaze back in your direction. He was met by your own eyes, and as soon as they caught his you broke out into a smile he knew was meant for him. It felt like he had won the lottery. You didn’t leave the conversation you were having with Natasha and now Peter, who had just arrived. You reached up to fix Peter’s tie, ruffling his gelled hair playfully once you were done.

Your intentions were honest and pure, a trend Bucky noticed with everyone you met. As happy as it made him to be in your presence on missions and around the compound, he was still a man who had murdered in cold blood for the last seventy years. It was jarring, how content he felt around you. It was a feeling he didn’t deserve.

The longer he thought about it, the more frustrated he felt. The paradox of wanting to be next to you- to be the cause of that brilliant smile- and wanting to stay far away as to not corrupt you with his past badness was taxing. The room seemed to be getting smaller, hotter, more crowded. Bucky tugged at his tie, desperate to feel less suffocated as he retreated to the one place he knew he’d be safe: the roof.

During the day the roof was ordinary, just another standard part of the compound. At night however, underneath the wide expanse of stars, Bucky felt like he was just a very small part of a very large universe. The tininess of his existence was humbling and refreshing, a break from the way his decisions during his every day life affected most of the global population.

It was this kind of break that he sought out that night of the gala, the darkness enveloping him as he stood near the edge of the roof. He stood alone and just breathed.

“Thought I’d find you up here,” you called from behind him somewhere around a half hour later. Bucky turned around, watching you make your way over to him. You were holding a bright blue drink, illuminated by the light flooding from the door behind you.

“Here,” you handed him the glass, “this’ll take the edge off.”

“Alcohol doesn’t work on me, sweets.” He took the glass anyways.

“Lucky for you there’s no alcohol in there. Just water. Our last mission really took it out of me so I’m rehydrating for a while. Water is good for my plant cells. It’s good for super soldiers, too.”

“Why is it blue?” He took a sip. You were right, just water.

“Food dye. Did you ever put a carnation in colored water during school to learn about water transfer in plants?” Bucky shook his head. “Me neither,” you said, quickly passing over the fact that you had never been to school and Bucky had attended in the 1930s, “but Peter did, this was his idea. Look!” You held up your fingers and Bucky noticed the same artificial blue color tinting the tips.

It was in this moment that Bucky forgot every ounce of animosity he had towards himself. Your joy was so pure, so essentially you, that he couldn’t avoid it- especially since you had gone out of your way to share it with him.

“I thought your days of being a science experiment were over,” he teased.

“They are. This is a fun experiment though, nothing like what happened to me before.” You quieted.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to bring that up.”

“It’s ok. What are you doing up here anyways? It’s much warmer inside.” Bucky hadn’t noticed the brisk fall air, but you were shaking like a leaf under the thin material of your gala outfit.

“Too many people,” he lied, “needed some air. You should get inside, though. I don’t want to find out what happens to your plant cells if you freeze.”

“I’m not going inside until you do. I’m won’t let you isolate yourself on purpose. We don’t even have to talk, but I’m not going anywhere.” You crossed your arms stubbornly.

“You’re impossible, did you know that?” Bucky’s flesh arm slid over your shoulder, pulling you into his side and guiding you back inside.

“Impossibly… perfect? Amazing? The best friend you’ve ever had?” Even fishing for compliments you were completely adorable.

“Are you going back to the party?” He avoided your question with one of his own.

“No, Nat already left because she’s going on a mission tomorrow, Peter has curfew, and Wanda is making googly eyes at Vision. Nobody fun was around anymore so I came to find you. I think I’m going to go back to my room and watch a movie that Nat recommended. Do you want to come with? She says it has vampires and werewolves, but apparently the werewolves don’t even show up until the second movie.”

“That’s ridiculous, everyone knows werewolves are better than vampires. Why wouldn’t they be in the first movie?”

“I don’t know, but Nat said it was a big cultural thing and I should watch it because my teenage years were wasted.”

“I must have missed it too, then. I’ll get the snacks?” Your eyes lit up, and Bucky swore they were brighter than the stars above your head.

“Yes please. Meet in my room in ten?”

Bucky made popcorn, then walked back to your room. He leaned in the doorway awkwardly, unsure where you planned for him to sit. It wasn’t his first time in your room, but it was the first time he had been there with the intention of staying longer than a few minutes. You had made yourself comfortable in a pile of pillows and blankets on your bed, and as soon as you saw him you patted the space next to you.

“Come on in,” you chimed, “make yourself at home, just leave the door open please?”

He only saw half of what happened in the movie, instead charmed by the way you reacted to what was on the screen and the warmth of your weight leaning against him. It was different than the times you had fallen asleep on his shoulder after missions. Those times were always on the jet surrounded by your friends, when you let the exhaustion take over your body.

You were consciously making the decision to be close to him this time, with no one around to witness it but yourselves.

“You know, I really wish you wouldn’t lie to me,” you hummed as the credits rolled.

“What do you mean?” He waited for you to pull away from him, but you didn’t.

“There’s another reason why you went to the roof besides there being too many people at the gala, I just haven’t figured it out. You don’t have to tell me, you never have to tell me, but please don’t lie to me. If you ever feel like talking about it, though, I’m a good listener. It’s a plant thing,” you added as an afterthought.

“I think it’s a you thing, sweets,” Bucky lifted his arm to place it around your shoulders, pulling you tighter into his side in an attempt to say thank you.

…

Bucky opened his eyes to sunlight streaming through his windows and your comfortable weight gone. He wasn’t stressed, if you had been taken against your will you would have made enough of a scene to wake him. Your legs must have been feeling better, leaving Bucky to wander out of his room and try to locate you before Barton did.

You weren’t in the kitchen, your room, or the common room, the three most obvious places for you to go. You also frequented Natasha’s room, but Bucky didn’t want to alert the spy to your disappearance from his supervision until he was completely sure he couldn’t find you elsewhere in the compound.

He tried the med bay next, though he assumed you’d have woken him if you needed to go back. As he expected, you weren’t there, giving him no reason to go further down into the lab. He tried the training room next, figuring you may have gone to observe some of the other Avengers in their training that was due to start soon. Bucky was also supposed to be there, but he was determined to find you first.

While his theory about your location was correct, his reasoning was wrong. Bucky leaned against the door frame, watching you from afar as you stood in the middle of the sparring ring, both hands up and ready to train with the woman across from you. Wanda was a worthy opponent, Bucky had spent plenty of time sparring the Scarlet Witch himself. Part of him worried for your health, but he trusted you to make the best decisions for yourself.

It seemed you had agreed to not use powers, Wanda’s hands weren’t glowing and you showed no indication that you’d be using yours either. Instead, you were fighting close combat, Bucky’s trained eye noting the way you completely avoided using your still healing right hand.

Even with the impairment, you had Wanda pinned after a few minutes. You stood, helping her up with a laugh. Wanda murmured something to you, likely about Bucky’s presence due to the way you turned to him. Your grin widened when you saw him watching you.

“You up for another round?” he called, returning your grin and cocking his head.

“Be my guest,” you gestured to the mat. Wanda stepped aside, letting Bucky take her spot. You stopped him when he reached for his metal arm, “what are you doing?”

“You’re only using one arm, thought I’d make it fair.”

“It’s fair when you leave your arm on, super soldier,” you teased, winking as you turned to walk away to the opposite corner. There was fire in your eyes and a grin on your face as you squared up to him.

Bucky let you move first, still unsure of how hard you wanted to go less than a day after being in the med bay. Having sparred you multiple times in the past, it took Bucky no time at all to realize that you were going full out despite only using one arm.

It was evident in your fighting style that Clint had taught you and that you had practiced with Natasha, traces of their training leaked into the way you moved. Aside from that, your fighting style was light and breezy with your legs providing a strong base, a reflection of your supernatural abilities even when you weren’t using them. Bucky was merely reacting to your advances, blocking punch after punch.

You swung again, stumbling as you lost your balance. Bucky took the opportunity to go on the offensive with tough, blocky strokes. You used the non-bandaged part of your injured arm to block him, stepping closer and tripping him with your ankle.

He fell backwards and grabbed your shoulders, bringing you with him. You rolled until he had you underneath him, arms on either side of your face. He thought that would be the end of it, but you grabbed his flesh arm and pulled it to the side, shifting his balance forward as you moved your upper body out of the way, kicking him upwards. You popped up and turned, hitting him in the shoulder with a well placed kick.

As you tussled on the floor, trading punches whilst grinning the whole time, you missed the other Avengers gathering in the room for their planned training. You missed Natasha elbow Clint and the glare shared between Steve and Tony as they watched you spar. Each of them had their suspicions of the chemistry between the young agent and the former Winter Soldier, chemistry neither of you really tried to hide but never confirmed either.

By sheer body mass, Bucky got the upper hand and backed you across the ring as you desperately tried to block his attack. You had once told him that you liked fighting hand to hand for the braininess of it. Defensive moves were second nature, leaving your brain to work out how to turn the fight in your favor. Your familiarity with Bucky always left him feeling like you were inside his head, turning moves against him before he knew what was happening.

In a blur of movement, Bucky found himself pinned, vibranium arm twisted behind his back and held by your quick fingers. His face was pressed into the soft floor, the distribution of your weight across his back holding him down.

“Alright, alright, I surrender,” he chuckled.

“Hell yeah you do,” you grinned, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to his exposed cheek before lifting yourself off of him. He stood, following you off of the mat and toward the water fountain that Tony had installed. Every move you made was enchanting, your body glowing with sweat and eyes still as fiery as they were before the fight. You held a cup under the stream of water and Bucky watched the way your biceps flexed under the material of your t-shirt.

“Your hand doing ok?” he asked when you finished your first cup, handing him one as well when you went to grab a second.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “I talked to Bruce this morning about attempting to speed up my healing process. Steve’s already excused me from this training, so I’m going to go eat some fruit and see if I can encourage production of the hormone that plants use to heal. I’ll see you when you’re done?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you after.” He watched you walk away, turning around to wave at him as you left the room. Once you were gone, he rejoined the team.

“You still haven’t told her,” Steve said when Bucky had made it over to his side. It was a statement, not a question.

“Nope.”

“Are you ever?”

“I’m working on it.”

Steve seemed skeptical of his answer, and rightly so. In fact, Bucky had no intentions of telling you in the near future at all. He would just continue loving and supporting you from afar and not risk causing you any more hurt in your life than what you had already endured. A trip to Wakanda was next on his list, though it took a few more weeks until you skipped into his room wiggling your newly free fingers.

…

Bucky contemplated just stealing a jet or asking Natasha if she had any contacts that could set him up with something, but he decided it best to just ask Tony and see where that would get him. This trip had to be perfect and acquiring an aircraft by sketchy means would probably cause things to go less than stellar.

Seconds before entering the lab, Bucky wondered if Steve’s permission would have been enough, but he was in too deep to turn around now.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Cyborg?” Tony called him out as soon as Bucky had stepped into the lab.

“I need to take a jet to Wakanda.”

“Is something wrong with your arm? I can fix it, if that’s what you’re after. Let me take a look,” Tony left the project he was working on to move towards Bucky, eyes only on his left arm.

“My arm is fine,” Bucky took a step away from his advances, “I want to take (y/n) there now that she’s feeling better.”

“Ahhh, taking your girl to your old stomping grounds, I see.”

“She’s not-” arguing seemed futile, “she said she wanted to go and asked if I could show her around, that’s it. Can I take a jet or no?” Bucky was starting to get impatient. If Tony wouldn’t give him permission he’d have to go talk to Steve, who’s teasing would be even more relentless than Tony’s.

“Sure, just bring it back in one piece. No joy rides. I’m doing it as a favor to (y/n), by the way. I’m not totally convinced you’re completely on our side.”

“I’m not convinced you’re completely on our side, either,” Bucky shrugged, leaving the lab before he said anything else that might cause Tony to revoke his jet privileges.

He found you in the kitchen, bantering with Natasha about the best way to cut a sandwich. He couldn’t help but grin when he saw you, more excited to travel with you than he had been about anything recently.

“What’s got you so smiley?” you asked, smiling brighter than the sun yourself.

“We’re going on vacation.” If it was possible for your smile to get any bigger, it would have.

“Where are you going?” Natasha asked, leaning into the counter with a smirk.

“Bucky’s taking me to Wakanda,” you grinned, abandoning your sandwich to skip to his side, “when are we leaving?”

“As soon as you’re ready, sweets.”

You dashed off down the hall, presumably to pack your bag.

“‘As soon as you’re ready, sweets’,” Natasha mocked the depth of Bucky’s voice once you were gone. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger, Barnes.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No. Don’t tell her I said this, but you’re the first person she’s really gotten close to besides Clint and I. She likes to think she’s close with Steve and Wanda and everyone, but they don’t know her the way we do. It’s good for her to have someone else who gets it.”

It was good for him to have her too, Bucky thought. He had courted plenty of girls back in the 40s, before the war, but none of them had ever made him feel like you did. In all of the years he had been alive, it was an inhuman girl that met him while he was doubting his own humanity who made him feel the most human emotion of them all.

“Ok,” you breathed once you had rejoined him in the kitchen, “I’m ready now. Actually, wait, I want this too.” You reached across the counter to take half of your sandwich, the hem of your shirt raising slightly to reveal a sliver of skin. It took everything he had to tear his eyes away, not wanting Natasha to notice the extent of how much you dazzled him.

“Have fun,” Nat called as he turned with you to leave. You spun around, leaving his side to dash quickly back to her and press a kiss to her cheek.

“Love you!” You called back as you raced to catch up to where Bucky was waiting. “Where’s your stuff?” You asked innocently.

“Already in the jet. Thought you’d want to leave as soon as possible.”

“You know me so well,” you sang, skipping ahead of him towards the aircraft bay.

You spun around when you asked him which jet you’d be taking. He pointed to the correct one, but you waited until he was next to you to walk over to it.

“You call shotgun!” you yelled, pushing past him to plop into the pilots chair once you had entered the aircraft.

“That’s not how that game works, is it?” He asked, occupying the chair next to you without argument.

“I don’t know the rules, Nat only explained so much to me,” you shrugged, firing up the engine and slowly lifting the quinjet off the ground. “Tony’s jet is so fancy, nothing like what I’m used to flying.”

“Didn’t SHIELD have nice jets too?” Bucky relaxed back into the seat as you flipped a few switches.

“Yeah, but Nick never let me fly them. Clint taught me in an older model and that was the only one I was allowed to fly. Little Blue, we called her. She was much grittier than this jet. In this jet I can just,” you dipped each wingtip fluidly. “See? No grit.”

The conversation lulled for a bit while you focused on your flight pattern. Bucky noticed the way your tongue played between your lips as you concentrated. He had been on jets with you plenty of times, but had never actually seen you piloting one. It was incredibly attractive, he decided.

“It’s like you and Steve,” you finally broke the silence once you had pushed the autopilot button.

“What is?”

“Steve is like this jet. America’s golden boy super soldier, all smooth and shiny around the edges. You’re a super soldier too, you just have more grit.”

“More grit, huh?” It wasn’t the way he would have described the differences between him and Steve, but you seemed convinced in your analogy.

“It’s not a bad thing. I like it better, actually.” You mumbled the second part under your breath, sinking further into your seat. Bucky couldn’t think of anything to say to that, instead settling back into a comfortable silence as he reveled in the fact that you had just said aloud that you preferred him to Steve.

Your gasp when you saw the extent of Wakanda sprawled on the ground beneath you immediately made the whole trip worth it.

Shuri met you in the field where the jet had landed, quickly introducing herself to you.

“Show her what you can do,” Bucky gently encouraged as you walked closer to the city.

“It’s not much,” you blushed at Shuri’s inquisitive gaze, but you brushed your hands along the plant life lining the pathway. The smaller shrubs shied from your touch, pushing their leaves away from you.

“My biological makeup is enough of a plant that externally they see me as a competitor and I can move them using negative space. If I wasn’t wearing shoes I’d be able to connect into the root system and move them the other way. Not trees though, trees are stubborn,” you half chuckled.

“Can you create them?” Bucky could practically see the way Shuri’s mind was racing with possibility as she asked for further information about your abilities.

“No, it’s not magic, just science. I can spatially manipulate what already exists and encourage chemical processes like growth, but if there isn’t already established plant matter I can’t make it appear.”

“Do you use your powers to fight?”

“Sometimes, if it lends itself to the mission. A lot of the work I do is inside bunkers and offices though, so I only have the rogue houseplant here and there to use.”

“We should go up to my lab, I can help you turn your plant science into fighting plant science.”

You glanced over at Bucky, eyes meeting his. He had spent plenty of time reading your expression since meeting you, and it only took a second for him to pick up on your uncertainty. He tried his best to be silently supportive, hoping your innate knowledge of his thoughts would clue you in to his mindset that whatever decision you made would be the right one.

You surprised him by agreeing to work with Shuri, though you bumped your elbow gently into his as you followed her into her lab. Bucky understood as soon as he saw you admiring Shuri’s work. Having grown up in a lab, no matter how brutal, had given you an instinctual appreciation for the scientific process. Your knowledge was mostly in bioscience, leaving you extra curious about other technology.

Somewhere in your mind, Tony’s work was made equitable to the experiments happening in the lab you lived in prior to moving to the compound. On multiple occasions you had expressed your frustration in being unable to appreciate the work Tony was doing due to your past. Bucky did his best to reassure you that your wellbeing was the highest priority, but he was well aware that you’d be the only one able to actually convince yourself of such.

While you worked, Bucky found a stool and was content spinning in circles as he watched you gush over Shuri’s technology. In all of your years of missions you had stubbornly been using a standard issue SHIELD uniform with minimal modifications, but now you were talking animatedly with the Wakandan princess about gloves with seed pockets and shoes without soles.

After so many months of noticing the way you squirmed during unavoidable trips to Tony’s lab, seeing you so excited to be doing science was like a breath of fresh air. Bringing you to Wakanda was one of the best things Bucky had ever done, he decided.

…

Though King T’Challa offered a room to you in his home, you asked to stay in the hut Bucky had lived in during his last stay. Bucky was grateful, the sleeping mat on the hard ground reminded him of the days he had spent here before moving into the compound, and you never seemed uncomfortable when you were outside.

When the sun had set and you were laying side by side, you spoke.

“Thank you for showing me this part of your life. I’d ask you to share the other parts, too, but Tony hasn’t invented time travel yet.”

“What makes you think it’ll be Stark’s invention?”

“Don’t be silly, of course it’s going to be Tony. Who else would it be?” You didn’t give him time to answer, your tone softening, “once he does invent it and we can go back to your life before the war, what’s the first thing you would want to do?”

Bucky didn’t even have to think to know his answer, “I would take you dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hummed, allowing himself to daydream about holding you close and swaying to the sound of trumpets. It was a wish he knew would never come true, Tony wouldn’t really invent time travel, right?

“I don’t really know how to dance. Nat tried to teach me once. Right after I joined SHIELD she and Clint tried to help me find a hobby, but she’s a ballerina and I had a hard time keeping up.”

“You don’t have to know how to dance to go dancing with me, sweets. All you have to do is follow my lead.”

You were quiet for a long time, long enough that Bucky thought you had fallen asleep. It wasn’t until he was rushing towards unconsciousness himself that you spoke again, barely a whisper passing through your lips like a summer breeze rustling through the treetops. If he wasn’t a super soldier, he wouldn’t have heard it in the first place. “I’d follow your lead anywhere, Bucky Barnes.”

The next day was as magical as the first. Bucky watched you experience not only Wakanda, but the world outside of the compound. All of the traveling you had done was for missions only, never any time to stop and take in the beauty of the world you were finally living in.

As enchanting as it was to watch you explore, a selfish part of his brain feared that this vacation would open your eyes to possibility and you would leave the compound, leave him, for good. He pushed those thoughts asides as best he could, trying not to dwell on the negative when you were having so much fun. You wandered down the streets of the city, perusing the different stalls of wares being sold by the locals. Bucky followed along like a lost puppy, entranced by the way the sun kissed your cheekbones.

“You’re not even paying attention, Bucky,” you whined, though the smile that graced your face was impossible for you to hide. He hadn’t heard a single thing you had said, and you knew it. “I asked if you would help me find something to bring home for Clint’s kids. They’d never forgive me if Auntie (y/n) went on vacation for once and didn’t bring back presents.”

“I’m not the right person to ask, sweets. What do kids even like?”

“I’m sure you’ll know when you find the right thing. They aren’t normal kids, their dad is literally an Avenger.” You patted his arm and started walking away.

“Where are you going?”

“Just over here, I’ll be back in a minute,” you winked, disappearing into the crowded street. When did you ever wink? You were up to something, that’s for sure. Whatever it was, Bucky wasn’t going to let you down by failing the one task you gave him, so he started scouring the stalls near him for something that Clint’s kids would like.

Truth be told, he didn’t know much about the archer’s personal life. You had told him about the kids before, but it was usually when telling him a story about something funny they said at your weekly dinner with Natasha and the Barton’s.

Just like you promised, you were back in a few minutes holding a small bag. The brightness of your smile was like a beacon, easily dragging Bucky’s attention away from the pottery he was looking at.

“Look who it is, come here often?” he teased when you returned to your position at his side.

“Only with my best friend,” you quipped.

“What’s in the bag? Did you find something for the kids?”

“This is for you, actually.” You opened the bag gently, pulling out a pair of simple black sunglasses. “To protect your baby blues,” you said, opening them up and sliding them onto his face.

The lenses came to life, information right in front of his eyes. It wasn’t anything extreme, they definitely weren’t designed for combat and the interface itself was simple, but what he noticed most was the way the device fed him cultural context. In Wakanda, a culture completely different from his own, it was useful fun-fact type of way. Back home, he would be able to get context for twenty-first century things without having to ask anyone.

“If it’s too much you can just press here,” you took his hand in your own and guided his finger to the button on the side. The interface went dark, leaving the glasses to function just like any old pair.

“Thank you,” he pulled you into a hug, unable to think of anything else to say that would express his appreciation.

“I’m glad you like them, Shuri told me about them yesterday and I thought it would be a great surprise.”

“They’re perfect, sweets. Now it’s my turn to surprise you.” He kept his arm around your shoulders and started steering you down the street.

“Did you actually find something for the kids? Because that was really just a rouse to keep you distracted, I got these really neat gadgets for Cooper and Lila, and a little toy for Nathaniel,” you glanced up at him from under his arm, trying to read his expression.

He couldn’t contain the dumb grin on his face as he recalled the similarities between the pair of you and a scene from the stupid vampire movie he had watched with you so many months ago.

His surprise and your final destination for the day was his favorite spot to watch the sunset.

“This is incredible,” you said softly as the orange illuminated your features.

“I told you.”

“You know what would make it better?” you asked, standing up and brushing the dirt from your pants.

“What?” he had no idea where you were going with this. You pulled out your phone and tapped the screen a couple of times, then dropped it gently in the grass as the first notes of an older song began to play from its speakers.

“Will you teach me how to dance, Sergeant?” you held your hand out.

It was an easy decision to accept your offer and pull you closer to him. He gently encouraged you to move with him, a slow and simple sway.

For once, you weren’t your normal chatterbox of conversation. It occurred to him that he could tell you now that he was hopelessly in love with you. It was the perfect moment, all things considered. You were away from the compound for something other than a mission and he was holding you in his arms, not to mention the gorgeous landscape surrounding the two of you.

“(y/n),” he started. You shifted so you could look at him better, gaze soft. “You are one of the best people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“Second only to Steve, right?” you giggled. He smiled softly, letting the grin from your joke tug at his lips.

“Shut up, I’m being serious.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, continue,” you bit your lip, trying to contain your own smile. Your efforts only caused the two of you to be overcome by giggles as you stared into each other’s eyes. It was hard for Bucky to find the words to tell you how desperately in love with you he was when he all he could think about was how damn happy you made him.

“I, um, I need you to know that, um,” his nervous stuttering was interrupted by the way your head turned quickly to the path through the trees behind you, body tensing.

“Hang on, someone’s coming.” Bucky listened intently, picking up on the signs you had noticed. Hard dirt crunching under a set of feet, no- two. You both waited silently, arms stiff but still holding each other.

Your bodies relaxed when King T’Challa and Shuri emerged from the forested trail, expressions dim. You stepped away from Bucky, but kept your fingers interlocked.

“I am sorry to interrupt you, but a war is coming to Wakanda along with your friends and we’ll need all the help we can get.” T’Challa said.

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Shuri revealed.

Your face set, eyes narrowing, “we’ll be there.”

“I wasn’t able to finish all of the gear for you, but I do have these.” She handed you a pair of shoes, not unlike the sneakers you typically wore.

“Thank you.”

The pair informed you of the cause of the impending danger, then left. You stood in silence, gathering your thoughts. When you finally moved again, it was dark. Still holding Bucky’s hand, you walked back to where your phone was and paused the music, then sat down on the grass. He sat next to you.

“It’s a big ol’ universe out there, isn’t it?” you asked, leaning back to lay down and stare up at the starry sky.

“Makes me feel small,” Bucky confessed, laying back as well.

“Small? Hmm, interesting.”

“What?”

“It makes me feel big.” He waited for you to elaborate. “Whatever cosmic powers created the universe and everything in it decided this world needed one of me too. It’s a very important job, being the only me in this universe.”

Bucky hadn’t even considered that possibility, but as soon as you said it he could see why it was the perspective you had chosen. You had mentioned offhandedly to him before how you thought everyone was important, but he had never asked where that belief had stemmed from.

You never ceased to amaze him.

…

He could tell you were jittery when the sun came up. You were readying yourself for a war, something he was no stranger to. He tried his best to stay calm, hoping his energy would direct you into a productive mindset. You were wearing the shoes Shuri had given you, pressed firmly into the dirt. From his understanding, the soles were designed to be porous, giving you access to the world underneath your feet.

It was easy for him to picture how you would have received them had you not been facing an alien invasion. You would have been skipping around outside, frolicking in the grass. Bucky would have let you practice combat against him just to hear you laugh when he tripped over a tangle of plants you had produced.

Instead of your normal pension for goofing off, you were pacing. Bucky resorted to perching on a rock as you bore a path into the grass underneath you. The waiting was killing him too.

You seemed relieved when the gang of Avengers showed up, hugging Natasha once she stepped off the jet.

“How was your vacation?” Natasha asked you once you were all waiting for the battle.

“It’s been amazing, I can’t wait to tell you about it after we’re done with this mess,” you said, facing the field in front of you, “are we really about to fight aliens?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered.

“Damn,” you whispered.

Natasha shot you a look, “alright, who taught you how to swear?”

“Steve,” you deadpanned without hesitation, eyes still watching the border. Bucky had to contain his laughter, it was not really the time to be joking and yet your charm had broken through yet again.

He knew you would be able to hold your own in the battle, you were one of the best agents SHIELD had ever seen. He worried more about the toll war was going to take on you. He had spent his whole life fighting in wars by no choice of his own. He knew what it looked like, what it felt like to participate in a conflict this big, and what damage it did to one’s psyche. Losing you physically was a dangerous game that you played every time you went on a mission, Bucky had long ago come to terms with that. Losing you mentally was something he wasn’t sure he was prepared for.

You protested when Natasha went with Steve and T’Challa to speak with the intruders, wanting to go with her yourself.

“Absolutely not. You’re staying here with Barnes.”

“Bucky has all of Wakanda right here, he’s very safe. You’ll only have Steve and King T’Challa. I want to help, I’m coming with you.”

“The barrier will keep us safe, you’re not going down there with us. I know you can handle yourself,” she cut you off when you opened your mouth again, “I trained you, remember? Just stay here for me, please?”

You thought hard for a minute, then sighed, “fine. But only because I love you.”

“I love you too,” the spy touched your shoulder briefly before walking away with the two men. When they came back you didn’t say anything, but moved to stand at Natasha’s side. As T’Challa discussed opening the barrier, Bucky stole a glance at you. You caught his eyes with your own, sincere expression morphing into your classic ‘I’m okay’ smile before you focused back on the approaching enemies.

Bucky had seen a lot of shit during his many, many years of life, but this war was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was hard to keep an eye on you during the fight with so much chaos around, but he knew you were still alive by the way the grass under his feet moved. Enemies in front of him would fall when grass twisted around their ankles, locking them in place so he could put a bullet or knife blade into them.

He finally laid eyes on you in the jungle when Thanos arrived. Your brow was furrowed in concentration, more focused than Bucky had ever seen you. As Thanos stalked towards Vision, vines whipped off of trees and into his path. The giant purple man broke them easily and with a wave of his hand had knocked you aside. Bucky charged and was pushed away just as easily, landing a few feet away from you.

He retained consciousness, but you weren’t so lucky. Careful not to draw attention to himself, he moved you towards a patch of ferns. The fronds rustled around you, shielding your body. You blinked a few times as you woke up. Bucky pressed a finger to your lips, the jungle was oddly silent.

“I’m going to find Steve,” he whispered, standing up. You nodded, still out of it, but as he walked back towards where Steve had been he noticed the way the plants in his path moved with him.

The plants stilled right before he turned to dust.

…

Despite the fuzziness of his brain when he came to, he stumbled through the crowd of people until he was at your side.

“You okay?” you coughed out once he was close.

“Better now,” he reached out his hand, a fleeting touch against your own before returning to the throws of war. This time, there were no plants to bend at your will, so he had to just assume your safety while the gauntlet was tossed around.

Once the dust had finally settled, the Avengers started regrouping. Tony was dead, though thanks to his sacrifice that seemed to be the only major casualty. Bucky found you as quickly as he could, stopping next to Steve when he saw you talking heatedly with Barton.

“Where’s Nat?”

“It’s a long story,” even from afar, Bucky could tell that the archer was trying to save you from the whole explanation until your adrenaline had calmed down a little.

“I’ve got the time.” He had never seen you be so short with the other man, usually your conversations with Nat and Clint were patient and full of love. They were the closest thing to family you had ever had and you tried harder than necessary not to lose them.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then enlighten me. What did I miss? Where is Nat?”

“(y/n), she was fighting so hard to get you back. I gave up, but she never did.”

“Why are you talking about her in the past tense? I’m only going to ask you one more time, Barton. Where. Is. Nat?” You shifted your feet and Bucky noticed the way the soil underneath you moved, bulging and cracking.

“We had to go to Vormir to get the soul stone. When we got there, there was a guy.”

“A guy?” your fists clenched. The ground rumbled.

“A guy,” Clint repeated, “he told us what we had to do to get the stone. A soul for a soul.”

You froze in your movements as you processed what he had said. Your voice was hoarse when you spoke next, as if you had to force the words out of your throat, “you let her die.”

“I tried to stop her, it should have been me,” Clint put his hands up and started backing away, spouting everything he could think of to calm you down. Your feet burrowed into the soil. In a split second, hundreds of trees grew up from the ground around Clint, entangling him in their branches. Steve took a step forward in an attempt to help, but was knocked aside by another branch with just a twist of your hand. The other Avengers, following Steve’s lead, started trying to fight back. You knocked them aside just as easily. It was like you weren’t even thinking about it, reminding Bucky of the way you would mindlessly swat flies away when walking around the compound grounds with him. His teammates’ eyes held fear at your power, but all Bucky saw was was your strength. He was in awe of the way you commanded your own space. It was enlightening, beautiful, powerful, and it was hurting your friends.

The trees continued growing around you. He had never seen such an expanse of plant matter in his life. Trunks were twisting around you and Barton, separating you from the desolate battlefield.

“You killed her.” Bucky could just barely hear you over the creaking of wood and rustling of leaves.

“Buck,” Steve called in warning, still fighting off the branch you had created to stop him. He couldn’t let you kill Clint, and that was exactly the direction you were heading, so he willed himself forward and into the chaos. You started flinging branches his way, but Bucky wouldn’t let you swat him away like everyone else. He tried his best not to destroy any branches, unsure if damage to the plants would hurt you. Instead he ducked and dodged out of the way as best as he could. He had always known your powers were strong, but even he couldn’t have predicted you to be capable of this. He kept fighting his way towards you, using his metal arm to force branches and trunks to move. He felt the sting of impact on his face, his back, his shoulders as he pushed forward. He wouldn’t quit until he made it to you, he couldn’t quit until he made it to you.

He finally caught a glimpse of you, tears streaming down your face though your expression was still. Your feet moved ever so slightly in tandem with your wrists as you brought more and more plant life up to the surface. You had your own personal bubble, protecting you from the disaster surrounding you. Barton was on the other side of the circle, being squeezed and stretched and ultimately trapped by your wrath. He was still trying to talk you down, though his eyes met Bucky’s in a silent plea.

With one last surge, Bucky broke into your space and grabbed you as tightly as he could, arms wrapping around you. You thrashed against him, he only held you tighter. He spoke in your ear, barely above a whisper.

“It’s me, sweets. Can you hear me?”

A sob escaped your lips. The forest still stormed around you.

“Breathe for me, sweets. I need you to breathe.”

Against his own advice Bucky held his breath, waiting.

As soon as your chest moved, the swirling of the forest stopped. It was silent.

“There we go. You need to let Barton go before you hurt him. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if something happened to him. He’s your family too.”

“He killed her,” your voice was small and shaky, nothing like the (y/n) Bucky had grown so fond of.

“He tried to save her, sweets. He was going to sacrifice himself so she could live.”

“He should have tried harder,” you clenched your jaw and Bucky could feel your muscles tense under his grip. The forest surrounding you started to rustle.

“Hey, sweets. Look at me. Look at me.”

As soon as your watery eyes hit his, you broke. As sobs shook your body, you fell against his chest. He supported your weight easily, lifting you up into his arms. He held you against him as your feet left the ground. There was the faint sound of snapping as the roots that had taken hold from the bottoms of your feet tore. You cried out at the action, confirming Bucky’s theory that you were physically connected to the plants in more ways than one. Trees started disintegrating, returning to the earth like an accelerated form of decomposition and leaving only fluffy soil in their wake.

Bucky could faintly hear Steve talking to Clint, just background noise like a staticky TV, but all he cared about was making sure you were ok. He didn’t have anywhere to take you, the compound that had been your home for so long was destroyed, but he started walking anyways.

He didn’t stop until he was deep into the forest, finally finding a soft patch of soil to place you down in. Deep circles had set in under your closed eyes, and Bucky would have thought you to be asleep had you not leaned into him once he was sitting next to you.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

“Of course, sweets.”

Bucky had spent plenty of time early on in your friendship worrying about what would happen if he slipped back into his past, if Shuri hadn’t been able to get Hydra all the way out of his head. He worried that you wouldn’t want to be around him, that he’d lose you. It wasn’t until he became so familiar with your gentleness and wit that he realized you wouldn’t leave if he was slipping, you’d give him something to hold on to.

He couldn’t abandon you now. He had to give you something to hold on to.

…

He held you throughout the night, not sleeping at all in order to protect you while you were so vulnerable. When you woke, you seemed like a shell of yourself, turned so far inward that Bucky feared you might not come out of it. You didn’t speak, just gently patted his arm as you stepped out of his embrace and into a beam of sunlight that had made its way through the canopy.

You closed your eyes and tilted your face up, soaking in the warmth. Bucky didn’t know exactly what you were doing, but you looked magical doing it so he just stayed put and watched you. After you had stood there long enough to have to turn with the sun, you opened your eyes and found Bucky again. Without saying anything, you stepped up to the closest tree and ran your hand along the trunk. It bent at your will, forming half of an arch and staying put when your hand moved away.

You did this for several more trees, forming a domed shelter out of living trees around where Bucky was sitting. It was an incredible use of your power that he suspected was a new revelation. Once the shelter was done, you got to work foraging. Even though his eyes never left you, he couldn’t tell if you were conjuring an abundance of edible plants or if they were already there. Whatever the answer, he couldn’t have possibly felt hungry after the amount you collected.

You found another sunbeam, settling into the dirt with your legs criss crossed and your arms out. Your eyes closed, so Bucky gave himself permission to stand. He poked around the area, finally finding what he was looking for. There was a small stream just to the left of the shelter you had created. He tore some of the fabric of his shirt off, soaking the cotton into the clear water.

He walked back over to you, crouching down next to you, “can I help you clean up from the battle?”

You nodded slowly, corners of your lips turning up in a small smile as he ran the moistened fabric over your skin. He did his best to wash away the dirt that had accumulated on your face and arms, then rinsed the rag and did the same to himself.

Once it was starting to get dark, Bucky retreated to the shelter you had made. You lingered at the doorframe, one hand on the tree trunk as you gazed up at the sky.

“It’s going to rain later,” you said simply. He chose not to ask how you knew, you still weren’t mentally all the way present with him and he didn’t know if you even wanted a response. It was the first thing you had said all day, though, which meant you were healing.

“Will you try to get some sleep?” he asked as he settled onto the floor. You left your spot by the door and nestled in next to him, inviting him to hold you. It was exactly the action Bucky had hoped for when he had laid down, but your words contradicted your movements.

“I don’t need to.”

“Are you sure?”

“The sunlight gave me everything I need to produce energy. You should sleep though.”

Bucky stared at you for a minute, wondering if it was possible for you to be more plant than human, then pulled you closer into him. “Fine. Just don’t turn into a tree or anything while I’m out, ok?”

“I’m not going to turn into a tree,” you chuckled, “I’ll be right here the whole time.”

He took your word for it, but when he woke to the sound of rain it was dark and his arms were empty. He stood slowly, making his way to the door of the shelter. His enhanced abilities allowed him to see you standing in the dark, soaking wet.

“Sweets,” he called softly, though he was almost certain you knew he was awake, “is everything alright?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, eyes closed, “it feels nice. Like drinking a glass of ice water.”

He watched you hold your arms out, catching raindrops. Your hair was plastered against your skin, as were your clothes, but you didn’t seem to be bothered by it. When the rain finally let up, you opened your eyes and walked back to the shelter with a grin, standing straighter than he had ever seen you.

“Did you always know you could do this stuff?” he asked once you were sitting next to where he had laid back down. You had his flesh hand in yours, damp fingers tracing over the lines on his palm in the dark.

“No, but I think Nat did.”

It was the first time you had mentioned Natasha since finding out she had died. Bucky gave you the space to elaborate, staying silent.

“She was always asking me to think harder about my connections, to really focus on what they were telling me and try to manipulate it. Every time I tried it never went very far. I could only move the small stuff, and never make anything grow more than it already had. With training I was able to start encouraging growth, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get anything bigger than a fern to do what I wanted. Even when we were in Wakanda fighting Thanos… I tried so hard to move the trees and give Wanda more time, but I couldn’t do it.” Even in the dark Bucky could see the way your eyes were welling up. He hadn’t realized that’s what you were trying to do.

“So when it worked you weren’t thinking about it?”

“Exactly. All I was thinking about was how mad I was at Clint. Now I just have to ask and the plants listen, no matter how big they are.” You paused. “When Nat rescued me she had to convince Clint to take me with them. I wasn’t part of the original mission. Nat had this complex about ‘owing it to Fury and Clint’ to recruit someone since Clint recruited her, and she picked me. Clint didn’t think I’d be a good fit, and honestly I agreed with him. When he recruited Nat she was already a trained spy, just for the wrong team. I was essentially useless. They argued for a while about whether or not to leave me behind.”

“What changed his mind?” Bucky had previously heard the story of how Natasha and Clint had broken you out of the confines of the lab you once called home, but you had never shared this part with him.

“Nat said I had something called learned helplessness. When I was in the lab it took less energy to let them run their tests than it would to use my abilities for fighting back. She said I had untapped potential and the right environment could strengthen my powers into something useful to humanity. Now that I’ve finally flexed them all the way… It’s like when your ears pop while flying and you can finally hear everything clearly. It seems a little ironic, that I’d figure my powers out as soon as she’s gone, as soon as it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“You said it yourself, she knew you had it in you.”

“I just don’t know why she had to die for it to happen,” you whispered, squeezing his hand tighter.

It was a little bizarre, playing house in the middle of the forest like this when Bucky knew there was plenty of aftermath from the war he should be helping with, but you were and would always be his first priority. It was the first time since he had stopped being the Winter Soldier that he had been so focused on one goal and one goal only.

You spent the next few days quietly exploring your new abilities. You weren’t your normal outgoing self, though every day you spoke more and more. Bucky made himself as soft as possible, giving you something to find comfort in as you discovered and healed. You were lounging on a patch of grass with him eating wild strawberries on day three when your head snapped up, toes digging further into the soil.

“Something’s coming.”

“I got it.” Bucky had absolutely no idea what it was, or how you knew, but he didn’t want you to feel like you had to protect yourself. You needed this space to heal, not to fight. He stood, positioning himself protectively in front of you.

Thankfully, it was only Redwing, speaking in Sam’s voice.

“Tony’s funeral is tomorrow, Steve wanted you to know.”

“Thanks, Sam. Did you hear that, sweets?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Sam.” You didn’t move from your spot in the grass, rolling a strawberry between your fingertips.

“Have you guys been living here this whole time? Damn, this is cool.” Sam’s voice chirped from Redwing.

“Go away before I smash your pet, Wilson.”

“His name is Redwing-” the robot sped away as soon as Bucky’s metal punch was thrown.

Bucky returned to you slowly, reaching out to take one of your hands with his own. “We should go to the funeral,” you said quietly as he settled beside you.

“Are you sure?” Half of him wanted to stay here in this eden you had created together. You nodded, bringing your joined hands up to your lips so you could kiss his skin.

“I’m sure.”

You stood between him and Wanda at the funeral, and it was like the four days in the forest had never happened. You interacted with everyone like normal, though they were still tiptoeing around you. More than once, an Avenger glanced at Bucky after talking with you with the same fear in their eyes that he had seen when they were fighting off your forest a few days prior.

You didn’t leave his side until after the ceremony, wandering with Wanda down to the edge of the lake where Clint was standing. The three of you talked for a few minutes before Wanda walked away, leaving you alone with the archer.

“You trust her with him?” Steve appeared at Bucky’s side, more inquisitive than accusatory.

“She trusts herself with him, and I trust her.” Bucky’s eyes didn’t leave you, reading every bit of body language he could.

“She almost killed him.”

“I almost killed you but you still kept me around. She’s less emotional than she was before, it’s a little unsettling if I’m being completely honest.”

Bucky was a bit surprised that Steve wasn’t giving you the benefit of the doubt. He had known you longer than Bucky had, he should have seen the way you were just now getting back to your normal self.

“Are you going back to the woods, then?”

Bucky rocked back on his heels, watching you rest your head on Clint’s shoulder, “it’s her decision. I’m following her lead.”

He wasn’t surprised when Steve stayed in the past after returning the stones. He wasn’t surprised when Steve gave Sam the shield. He wasn’t surprised when you told him an old SHIELD contact had set you up with an apartment across the city.

He helped you move in.

“Call me if you need me. Alright, sweets?”

“You call me if you need me,” you echoed as he stepped out the door. He stayed awake the entire night in his own apartment, waiting for his phone to ring.

You never called.

…

He spent many nights with his thumb hovering over the green ‘call’ button on his phone, wishing he was on the roof of the compound with you instead of being haunted by his own memories while he was asleep. He never followed through even though he so badly wanted to hear your voice.

“Something’s on your mind, James.”

“It’s nothing.”

Dr. Raynor gave him a pointed look, picking up her notebook, “it can’t be nothing if it’s bothering you so much.”

He sighed, accepting defeat, “it’s my friend.”

“Steve? Sam?”

“No, (y/n). We lived together in the compound. She has an apartment in the city but I haven’t heard from her since things went back to normal.”

“Have you reached out? Communication is a two way street.”

Bucky paused. She had said it as if he hadn’t spent every day thinking about calling you, as if he hadn’t been wallowing in his own cowardice.

“She won’t want to talk to me.”

“Why not?”

“The blip… it changed things between us. Her best friend died. The only life she’s known is the one where she was held against her will and the one Romanoff helped her make. I was a part of that new life, and now it’s all gone.”

“Did you make the choice to stay away, or did she tell you to?”

“I did. She started her life over, I didn’t want to remind her of everything that she lost,” Bucky grumbled. All it took was a raise of Dr. Raynor’s eyebrows for him to give in, “ok, fine. I’ll go visit her.” The doctor’s lips turned up in a triumphant smile.

“That’ll be your homework, then. I look forward to hearing about it next week.”

Bucky stopped at a flower stand on his way from the office to your apartment. You preferred trees to flowers, but he couldn’t exactly show up at your front door with a whole tree. He lingered outside of your building for a while, almost chickening out three times before he finally crossed the threshold. He ascended the stairs, walking slower down your hallway when he heard a second voice on the other side of your front door. The voice was female, with a distinct Russian accent.

Though the scientists that held you weren’t Russian, Bucky still feared the worst. He dropped the flowers and brandished the knife he had stored inside his jacket. He knocked twice, then pressed himself along the wall and waited for the door to open.

“What the hell, Bucky?” his press forward was stopped when you very casually opened the door. He lowered his weapon, watching your eyes carefully for any indication for what was going on. “Come inside before I get evicted for having friends with knives in the hallway,” you opened the door wider, grabbing his jacket and pulling him inside.

The first thing Bucky noticed about your apartment was how much homier it seemed since his last visit. Your bedroom door was open, giving him a glimpse of your full bookshelves and pile of quilts that adorned your bed. There was a blonde woman sitting at the table in the kitchen, presumably the owner of the voice he had heard while out in the hall.

“Who is this guy?” she asked nonchalantly, swirling ice around in the glass she was holding.

“Yelena, this is Bucky. Bucky, this is Yelena, Nat’s sister.”

“Hello,” Yelena chirped, leaning back in her chair.

“I didn’t know Romanoff had a sister.”

“You didn’t know a lot about her,” Yelena was quick in her response, thrown harshly in Bucky’s direction.

“Relax, he’s not one of them. Bucky’s like us.” You lifted yourself up onto the counter, leaving Bucky as the only one standing in your tiny kitchen. He shifted his weight awkwardly, still unsure of what was happening. What did you mean by ‘like us’? Blipped? Held captive by deranged scientists for most of your life? Part of a found family that was promptly ripped apart? Whatever it was, Yelena nodded in understanding and tipped back the rest of whatever was in her glass.

“Maybe you should use that knife to cut the tension between you two,” she pointed at you and Bucky as she stood, “I’ll see you tomorrow, (y/n).”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” your eyes didn’t leave Bucky’s as she showed herself out. Once you were alone, Bucky didn’t know what to say. He had done what his therapist had asked. He had visited you, and he was starting to feel like it was a mistake.

“I’m sorry, I should go.”

“Wait! Bucky,” you hopped off the counter and grabbed his wrist before he could get any closer to your front door. “I’m really glad you’re here. I’ve… I’ve missed you.”

The coolness of your palm was against his skin, humanizing you both. You noticed it at the same time he did, quickly retracting your arm and casting your gaze down to the ground. The only thought in Bucky’s mind was how much he had missed your touch when his hand found your elbow, pulling you into a hug.

“I’ve missed you too, sweets.”

“Why didn’t you call?” your voice was muffled from being pressed into his jacket, but there was no way either one of you was loosening your grip on the other.

“Why didn’t you call?”

“I asked first.”

“I thought you would want a fresh start, not be reminded of the past.” Your laugh surprised him enough that this time he did pull back, wanting to read your expression better.

“That’s exactly why I didn’t call you.”

“Well aren’t we just a couple of idiots?” He joined your laughter, holding you impossibly tighter.

“This idiot has ice cream in her freezer, do you want some?”

It wasn’t until you were both settled on the couch with a carton of ice cream tucked between you just like old times that Bucky remembered the gift he had brought. “I had flowers for you, I must have dropped them in the hallway.”

“No use looking for them now. I bet Yelena took them on her way out,” you smirked.

“What’s her deal, anyways?”

“She’s working on a mission and asked for my help.”

“You’re still going on missions?”

“No, this one is just… special.” Bucky chose to stay silent, letting you explain further if you wanted to. “She’s looking for Clint. She thinks he’s responsible for what happened to Nat. I don’t blame her, really, I thought so too at first.”

“I was there,” Bucky reminded you.

“Exactly. It wasn’t really Clint’s fault though. I’m just trying to convince Yelena of that before she finds him. She was following leads on Clint and Nat’s contacts when she found me. She hasn’t said it out loud yet, but she thinks I know where he is.”

“Do you?”

You hesitated, “I have a few ideas. Yelena thinks he’s in hiding because of guilt, but if I’m right he’s not even in hiding, really. He’s just protecting his family because he lost them for five years. I’d do the same if I were in his shoes.”

“So why not give her a false lead and move on?”

“She’s good, Bucky. She’s good at what she does and if she didn’t figure out I was bluffing right away, she would eventually and then I’m in danger.” You paused. “And I think she’s good on the inside too. She reminds me so much of Nat, in a really obscure also-the-opposite-of-Nat way. If I can just convince her that it wasn’t Clint’s fault then maybe it’ll almost be like having my family back.”

“So you’re hanging around with an assassin because you think they’re good? Sounds a little familiar.”

“Hey, it worked with you, didn’t it? Go big or go home,” you shrugged.

“Worked a little too well,” he smirked, disregarding the ice cream so he could throw his flesh arm around your shoulder and pull you closer into his side. Every part of you was as intoxicating as he remembered, and merely sitting beside you wasn’t enough to satiate his need for closeness to you after so many months apart.

“Does this mean we can start hanging out again?”

He couldn’t possibly say no.

Thursday night dinners quickly turned into Tuesday and Thursday night dinners, which was then added onto by Monday breakfasts, Wednesday lunches with Yori, and Friday drinks. It was so easy to slip back into the comfort of your company that eventually Bucky was stopping by your apartment almost every day for one reason or another. Although he deliberately made sure you mostly spent time together at your apartment, you still managed to charm him into letting you go home with him after tagging along while he shopped for groceries one afternoon.

“Just say it,” he said when your normal stream of chatter quieted after you entered his small home.

“Hmm?” your head snapped up, “there’s nothing to say.”

“Of course there’s something to say. You always have something to say. What’s in that head of yours?” He was opening himself up to a whole realm of criticisms. His apartment was nothing special and he had done very little to make it habitable over the last few months. You physically squirmed as you debated whether or not you actually wanted to share with him what you thought about his apartment.

“You don’t have a bed, Bucky.”

The way you said it wasn’t pitiful or judgmental in any way. It was pure concern for your friend that he didn’t have a comfortable place to sleep.

“Don’t need one.” He went back to putting his few groceries away.

“Are you still having nightmares?” You stepped closer to him, eyebrows furrowed. Instinctively he wanted to lie and say no, not burden you with his ever present turmoils, but your words from what seemed like eons ago echoed in his head. You don’t have to tell me, but please don’t lie to me.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Hmmm,” you hummed again, “I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, you know?” You leaned up against the counter next to him.

“I am taking care of myself.”

“If you say so.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he bumped into you playfully, his heart swelling when it sparked the fire behind your eyes.

“It means I trust you to make good decisions for your welfare,” you smirked.

A few nights later, when he jolted awake after another haunting dream, his hand grabbed at his phone like it had so many times before. This time, instead of pausing over the green button, he remembered the trust you had in him and actually made the call.

“‘ello?” you answered after a single ring. You sounded groggy, and Bucky’s stomach dropped thinking about how he had just woken you from what was probably a peaceful sleep just to drag you into his madness.

“Bucky?” you said after a few moments of silence, this time sounding more awake, “are you hurt? Where are you?”

As you fired off questions, he realized he didn’t know what he wanted to say to you, just that he needed to know that you were still real.

“I’m at home, I’m ok. Sorry… for waking you up.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s fine. Stay where you are, I’m coming over.”

“No, sweets, you don’t have to cross the city in the middle of the night-“

“Too late,” you interrupted, “I’m already on my way. Unlock your door for me, ok?”

“Ok,” Bucky sighed. He should have expected nothing less, honestly.

“I’ll see you soon.”

After hanging up with you, Bucky unlocked his door and then settled back under the few blankets on his floor. He was beyond exhausted, but forced himself to stay awake until he heard you knock gently before turning the knob and letting yourself in.

“Hey,” you whispered quietly, sinking down next to him gently.

“Hey,” he whispered back, unable to stop himself from resting his head on your shoulder. You moved your hand to trace shapes onto his bare back with your finger, giving him something to focus on. It only took a few letters for him to realize you were writing the scientific names of your favorite plants. He could feel his muscles relaxing with every brush of your fingertip.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked carefully once your hand stopped moving. He shook his head. You were being succinct in your questions, with good cause, but if you had just stopped to ask Bucky exactly what he wanted (and if he actually had the energy to put it into words) he’d have told you that he just wanted to curl up next to you in a bed that he didn’t have.

Your innate knowledge of him clued you mostly into his desires, gently laying back onto the floor with your arms still around him. You adjusted the blankets to cover you both before returning your arms to wrap around his torso.

“It’s ok to sleep now, I’ve got you.”

“Thanks, sweets,” he whispered into the darkness.

“Of course. I’ve got you,” you repeated.

It was the first time in a long while that he had a dreamless sleep. He woke feeling refreshed and ready to share the day with you, but you were gone. There was a note on his counter that you had scribbled about coffee doing you both good. When you returned, steaming to-go cups in hand, it was like the previous night had never happened.

You were only waiting for him to take the initiative to talk about it with you, that he was sure of, but he didn’t want to break the spell of normalcy that had been restored for your relationship.

Though the foundation of your friendship would never change, Bucky appreciated being able to spend time with you away from the supernatural. There wasn’t any large scale world-saving to be done besides your complicated relationship with Yelena and Bucky’s quest to make amends, so you could just exist in each other’s presence in a way you hadn’t been able to ever do. Bucky never would have guessed he’d be the one to break the tranquility, until he saw them announcing a new Captain America on your TV.

“What the hell?” he shot up from where he had been lounging in your lap when he saw the news report. You had been absentmindedly carding your fingers through his hair, a habit you had picked up after commenting about how different it was from the long hair he had sported during his time at the compound.

“What’s- oh, what the hell?” you echoed once you had caught on to his distress, though your tone was one of exasperation rather than Bucky’s frustration, “someone should probably go talk to Sam about that.”

“Someone?” Even through his immediate anger, he couldn’t help but crack a smile at the passive way you had totally just volunteered him for the job.

“Well this someone,” you pointed to yourself, “is busy simultaneously hunting for and hiding her best friend and his family. I don’t really have the time to deal with Sam and whatever idiotic fallout is going to happen from this John Walker guy, but someone,” you pointed to him, “does.”

“As always, you make a good point,” he stood up, looking around for his jacket. Once he had it in hand he strode to the door, but paused when his hand was on your doorknob. There was nothing he wanted to do more than tell you he loved you before he left, a casual ‘see you later’ kind of reminder, but he refused to let that be the way that he told you. It occurred to him as he stood there that the perfect moment he had been waiting for might not exist. Wakanda five years ago would have been a better setting, but if spending the day lounging on your couch just enjoying each others presence didn’t scream ‘(y/n) and Bucky’, he didn’t know what did. There was no telling how long convincing Sam to take back the shield would take, it was a now or never type of moment.

“Is there something wrong? I can go if you don’t want to,” you stood, grabbing your own jacket.

“No, I’ll go.”

You tilted your head in concern, eyes scanning his in an attempt to read him. You were so good at knowing what was going on in his head that he was a little surprised you hadn’t figured it out yourself.

“Hey,” your voice softened, “talk to me. What’s going on?”

He couldn’t lose you again.

“I love you. Actually, I’ve been in love with you since Stark had that stupid gala, the one where you found me on the roof just to show me the food coloring in your fingers. I’ve been in love with you since then, which is a long time not even including the five years we both didn’t exist. I’m not going to go involve myself in whatever disaster Sam has created without you knowing that you’re my favorite person in the universe, just in case.”

“Oh, Bucky,” you sighed, a smile creeping up on your lips, “I know that you love me. I thought it was obvious I love you too.”

“What?”

You cocked your head, still grinning, “you didn’t have to say it for me to know. Your actions spoke much louder than words could have. There’s a just a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone, and I was terrified I was reading our relationship completely wrong. I thought about telling you I was in love with you while we were living at the compound, but I didn’t want to lose you because of it. I’m sorry.”

Bucky couldn’t believe you had just apologized to him about a lack of communication about your feelings. “You don’t need to apologize, sweets, I understand. Are you sure this is something you still want? I’m still not in the best standing with the government and your reputation could suffer because of it.”

You didn’t even hesitate to process his words. “What happens to my reputation is my own choice,” you scoffed, “and I will absolutely fight anyone who says otherwise-” you froze when he dropped his jacket and his hands found your waist, pulling you closer to him. His eyes flickered between your own and your lips, watching your cheeks flush as he did so.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Would you stop asking stupid questions? Seriously, Bucky-” your breath hitched when he tightened his grip an infinitesimal amount. Your grasp on your jacket loosened, the garment piling on the floor when your hands flew to his elbows instinctively.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked again. This time you nodded, whispering a tiny ‘please’, and that was all the permission he needed to capture your lips with his own.

He had kissed you plenty of times before, but it had always been chaste, platonic moments of affection where his lips graced your forehead, cheek, hands, and on one occasion your knee after you tripped while goofing off with him around the compound. Kissing you now, feeling your soft lips on his with full romantic intentions, was everything at one point in his life he didn’t feel he deserved.

“How am I supposed to leave now?” he muttered, pressing his forehead into yours. Your fingertips found purchase in the hair just above the back of his neck.

“I doubt you’ll be gone long. Just tell Sam he screwed up and that he needs to take the shield back. It should be easy, and we’ll be back to doing this,” you paused to kiss him again, “in no time.”

You could not have been more wrong.

…

Bucky tried his best to keep you updated while he was gone, to reassure you that he was still alive and planning to come home to you as soon as the Flagsmashers were taken care of, but it got increasingly difficult once Zemo was broken out of prison and they were in hiding. He was able to get one phone call in while on the flight to Madripoor, possibly the only thing that kept him sane.

“Hey, are you on your way home? I forgot to get taco shells when I was at the store and we can’t have taco Tuesday without them. Can you pick some up before you get here?”

“Sorry sweets, I’m not going to make it home for dinner tonight.”

Zemo raised an eyebrow at Bucky’s pet name for you, but looked away quickly when Bucky glared back.

“Is Sam still being an ass? Give him the phone I’ll put him-“

“No, Sam’s not the problem. Things got a little dicey and now we’re heading to Madripoor with Zemo.”

“Zemo? The same Zemo that killed King T’Chaka and framed you for it? I thought he was in jail.”

“Yeah, he was, but he’s the one who has the lead we needed so now he’s out.”

“And you’re going to Madripoor.”

“Yup.”

You sighed on the other end of the line before speaking again, “something is bothering you about this plan. What is it?”

How you were able to get inside his head from so far away was lost to him, “Zemo wants us to be disguised when we go meet his contacts. He wants me to be disguised as the Winter Soldier.”

“And you’re afraid that playing the Winter Soldier will bring back the Winter Soldier in your head.” It wasn’t a question, you were just somehow in his brain again, putting words together more coherently than he would have been able to.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” you said, gathering your thoughts, “listen to me. You are not the same man that Hydra was controlling. I remember what you were like before Shuri got that stuff out of your head, and I remember what you were like when you first moved in to the compound. You have come so far, Bucky. Even if this takes you back a few steps, you’re still ahead of where you started. I promise.”

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me since leaving Hydra, if I start losing myself…” he had never voiced this insecurity to you, though he had thought about it plenty. Since rekindling your friendship, he stood by his theory that you wouldn’t let him slip, but there wasn’t much you could do from halfway around the world.

You answered softly, but confident. Bucky suspected you had thought about this topic almost as much as he had. “I loved you then and I love you now. Nothing is going to change that. I’ll fly you to Wakanda myself if I have to, just come home in mostly one piece first.”

It was exactly the reassurance he needed to feel ok with going to Madripoor. “I’ll try my best,” his lips turned up in a small smile.

“Great. I’m leaving tomorrow to do a stakeout with Yelena so I might not be home when you get back but you can always call me if you need to. Even better, you could stop being stubborn about texting and we could talk even more frequently, old man.”

He chuckled at your teasing tone. Only you would be able to make him laugh when his head was the most stormy. “Stay safe, ok?” His words seemed futile considering the work you both were doing, but they needed to be said. He feared losing you to a mission more now than he did when you were living at the compound, though not because you couldn’t handle yourself.

“We’re way out of practice leaving each other for missions, huh? You stay safe too, handsome. Now can you give Sam the phone? I have some things I need to say to him.”

Bucky stood and handed the phone to the other man, “it’s for you.” As soon as the device was at Sam’s ear, he could hear your voice squawking through the speaker. Sam’s gaze flickered up to Bucky as he made small noises of acknowledgement to whatever it was you were saying.

“I understand,” he finally said after a few minutes without reprieve, “see you later, (y/n).” He closed Bucky’s phone, then handed it back to him. “Your girlfriend called me an asshat.”

“She does that,” Bucky shrugged, pocketing his phone. He chose not to comment about the range of emotions Sam went through as he realized that for the first time since knowing him, Bucky didn’t deny you being his girlfriend.

After a long, eventful, few weeks that included a trip to Louisiana to see Sam’s sister and nephews, Bucky finally was on his way home to you. Just the thought of being back in your company made Bucky happy, to the point that Sam kept teasing him about how much he was smiling all the way to your apartment.

“Why are you still here again?”

“Because (y/n)’s my friend too,” Sam said, almost too cheerily.

Bucky suspected it was actually because Sam didn’t believe that he had finally confessed his feelings to you, but instead of calling the other man out he just rolled his eyes and knocked on your apartment door. In barely three seconds the door was whipped open and your hands were on Bucky’s cheeks, pressing your lips firmly into his.

His arms wrapped around you in response, reveling in the feeling of your body against his. You smelled like strawberries and soil, an aroma that Bucky had very quickly associated with the feeling of home. He could already feel himself relaxing, wanting nothing more than to crash on your couch and drink a beer with you.

“Am I going to get a greeting like that?” Sam’s voice came from over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Hi Sam,” you humored him as you pulled back from Bucky, your bright eyes not looking away from the man holding you. Your hands stayed on his face, thumbs gently brushing across the stubble that had accumulated there as you scanned for any injury.

“I missed you, sweets.”

“I missed you more.”

“You guys are nasty.”

“Go away, Sam.” Bucky lifted you easily with his metal arm, taking the few steps into your apartment and kicking the door closed behind him.

“He just cares about you,” you teased once your feet were back on the ground.

“Well, he can care about me from out in the hallway. I have more important things to do than listen to him complain.”

“Like what?” you prompted, grinning.

“Like this,” Bucky kissed you over and over again, walking you backwards until you were pushed onto the couch. He easily held his weight over you, watching your expression carefully. Eyes wild, you reached up to trace the lines of his face as you both caught your breath.

“No more missions for a while, ok?”

“I’m on board with that. Did you figure things out with Barton?”

“It’s gotten a lot more complicated,” you sighed, fingers still brushing against his skin, “I’ll tell you about it later, ok? I’d rather just enjoy having you home first.”

“Anything you want, sweets.”

…

Bucky woke up to sunlight coming through your curtains. Your bare legs were tangled with his, the rest of your body thrown haphazardly across him in various places. It was something he would have no trouble getting used to, the feeling of your skin against his and the familiar weight of you pressing into him. He laid as still as possible, trying to drink in every detail of this moment as he could.

“Good morning,” you yawned, breaking the quiet but only adding to the peace Bucky was feeling.

“Morning, sweets,” Bucky pressed his lips to the top of your head, You shifted slightly, moving your hand up to lazily fidget with the dog tags hanging around his neck. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, gently holding you in your own personal bubble of calm. If he had the choice, he’d live the rest of his life with you as a normal couple- no missions, no powers, no nightmares. Given both of your circumstances that wasn’t completely possible, but to do anything remotely close to that, he realized, he’d have to make amends the way Sam had told him to in Louisiana. He couldn’t hide under the sheets with you without owning up to his actions if he wanted to make sure your relationship would last.

“You’re thinking,” you moved your hand to press your finger into the crease between his eyebrows. Slowly, your finger traced down the bridge of his nose and onto his lips. He kissed it gently.

“I do that sometimes.”

“Care to share?” Your hand went back to his dog tags. It was one of his favorite things about you, he decided in that moment, the way you never pressed him to talk about things he might not want to talk about and never judged him when he told you, no matter how horrific.

“I need to see Yori today. He deserves closure.”

You watched him extract himself from your embrace carefully, doing some thinking of your own as he gathered his clothing, “I’m really proud of you.”

How he managed to be loved by someone as pure and special as you was lost to him.

“Hey Bucky,” you called right before he left your bedroom, “loved you then, love you now.”

It was a reminder and a promise all in the same. A reminder that he was worthy of being loved no matter who he was in the past nor who he was in the present, and a promise that on all of the good and bad days you’d still be there loving him.

“Loved you then, love you now, sweets.”

darling, the moon is still the moon in all of its phases -isra al-thibeh | on becoming

SOUNDTRACK , TRACKLIST

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #mcu fic #tfatws #marvel mcu #marvel bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction

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ladylilithprime · 3 years

Note

1. You get a craving for whatever your soulmate is eating at the time. - The Winter Soldier freaks the heck out when he starts craving human milk. (Because his soulmate is a newborn baby.)

HIS ENTIRE LIFE that he could remember, James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes had never had a craving that wasn't originally his. His mother had always looked wistful at the scent of coffee, explaining the only time he'd ever asked that she had craved it relentlessly whenever his father drank it while she was pregnant with Bucky and his sisters. Rebecca complained about wanting to eat ham and spicy peppers even though she hated spicy foods, and Rosalie would drag him off to the butcher to pick up sausages whenever they could afford the expense. Even Steve confessed to having a weird urge to eat steak and kidney pie for breakfast, and years later when a much bigger and stronger Steve shyly introduced his best friend to Peggy Carter he could only laugh that it finally made perfect sense.

But Bucky never got a single craving that wasn't his, and so his likes and dislikes were formed all on his own without any input from a phantom soul connection. Becca, staring down a bowl of chicken soup that "didn't taste quite right, even without the peppers", told him he was lucky. Falling from a train over Germany, Bucky couldn't help thinking that his soulmate - if he even had one - was the lucky one.

And then he was dragged from the ravine, alive and missing an arm, and thrown into hell, and he eventually forgot why it mattered that he never craved anything new.

Eventually, he forgot everything else.

THE ASSET FROWNED in confusion, distracted from the instructions being relayed by the Handler. The sensation was strange, similar to hunger, but seemed to come from outside the designated physical parameters. If the Asset had to guess, it was as if there was a second mouth and stomach sending feedback, an impression of liquid that had a taste and texture that was wholly unfamiliar, but might be classed as... sweet... and smooth... and thicker than the familiar water.

"Asset!"

The Asset snapped back to attention. "Sir."

"Your attention drifted from the briefing," the Handler said, tone displeased. "Explain."

The Asset hesitated in confusion, struggling to parse how to obey when the explanation was so nonsensical. "There was a... sensation. Hunger."

"Your nutritional requirements have already been met," the Handler snapped, frowning more severely.

"Yes, sir." The Asset knew that, and the knowledge only enhanced the confusion. There should be no sense of hunger to distract from the mission briefing, and yet there had been the sense of hunger, the... desire... for-- "Milk."

"Milk?" the Handler repeated, bafflement suffusing the displeased frown. "The approved nutrient sources don't include--" The Handler broke off, bafflement shifting into horror. "Asset. The fox dances in grandmother's new shoes."

The Asset froze, every muscle rigid and locked, all focus directed to the Handler.

"Ignore any and all sensory input related to unapproved nutrient sources. Acknowledge."

"Acknowledged. The Asset will comply."

THE ASSET TRIED to comply, but sometimes the foreign desires were so strong that the distraction presented by those sudden bursts if extraneous sensory input had the Handlers sending the Asset to the Chair for recalibration. The pain of the Chair and the blankness that followed blocked out the sensations for a time, but always by the end of the mission the distraction would have renewed. Once, only once, the Asset gave in and stole a small dark blue fruit that smelled like the extraneous sensory input being received and ate it, only to spit it back out at the immediacy of the flavor, sharp and sweet and tart and heavy and not at all pleasant. It became easier to ignore that particular extraneous desire despite how often the input presented itself.

It was more difficult to ignore other extraneous sensations, such as the taste of grain and burning and smoke and wood that felt both strange and familiar, similar to the vodka that the Handlers sometimes drank in the burn, but more smooth and earthy. The musty, tart and sour taste that accompanied a thick texture and the impression of skin was even more confusingly familiar, but as the Asset had been Commanded to ignore the extraneous sensory input and none of the Handlers ever requested a report on whether or not the sensations persisted beyond the Command, the Asset was given no information as to what these tastes and textures might actually be. Coffee, at least, was an extraneous sensory input that was on the approved nutrient sources list, although the Asset had no recollection of when it had been added or why it had been allowed when it seemed to be of little actual nutritional value and seemed to be more about allowing the Asset to blend into the general population on missions than maintaining physical status at mission-ready levels.

The problem, at least according to the Handler who reported on the Asset to the Director, was that the extraneous sensory input was interrupting the priority compliance command, requiring more frequent recalibrations the longer the Asset was active. The time between revival periods began to lengthen, as marked by the signs of age in the Director and the rotation of Handlers.

And then the Asset was given an assassination mission that was interrupted during the retreat by a blonde man with angry blue eyes who looked so strangely familiar and said the word "Bucky" when the muzzle fell away.

Who the hell is Bucky?

"Wipe him. Start over."

...Him?

The pain and the blankness was a relief, a blanket to smother the confusion of sensory input and sharpen the Asset's focus, but it could not make the Asset forget... the Director had said "him". Like the Asset was a person.

The Asset had been a person.

The Mission Target had known the Asset... had known the person who had been before he became the Asset.

There was a Before.

"'Til the end of the line."

The Target-- the Captain was pulled from the water by the Asset who might once have been called "Bucky", left on the bank to be discovered, and the Asset disappeared.

He had a strong desire for a drink of earthy vodka-- whiskey, and for once he saw no reason to ignore it.

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES no longer felt like "Bucky", but since he had decided to reject identifying as the Asset ever again - violently, if what he had ended up doing to Vasily Karpov when the man had tried to activate the failsafe compliance trigger was any indication - he was willing to allow the address (nickname) from the Captain whom he had once called "Stevie". He told the man with the wings - Wilson - to call him "James", and even though it made the Captain frown both he and Wilson accepted that the name James was less conspicuous to be called in public than a nickname listed in museums and history books.

"Besides," he told the Cap-- Steve when it looked like the blonde would start again with some bit of past knowledge that James was more and more convinced was subjective recollection rather than actual knowledge, "ain't hardly anyone left alive 'cept you who knew me as 'Bucky' anymore. So you get to keep callin' me that, but hell if anyone else is gonna get the privilege!"

Unsurprisingly, that made Steve stop trying to get other people to call him Bucky, which was really all James had wanted in the first place. Also unsurprisingly, it didn't stop Steve and Wilson from dragging him up to New York and Stark Tower in Manhattan when he admitted that the metal arm was operating below acceptable levels of function.

"You could just say it isn't working," Wilson grumbled.

"It's working fine," James disagreed, and proved it by extending a metal middle finger in Wilson's direction. "It's just slower than it should be, and I think I damaged something when I was digging out the trackers."

"You had trackers in your arm?!"

"Had. Don't have 'em now."

So to Stark Tower they went, because "if anyone can fix your arm, it's Tony", and to James's surprise they were let in through security almost before they'd finished saying who they were and sent to an elevator at the far end of the lobby.

"Welcome back, Captain Rogers," a voice intoned from the speaker near the ceiling as the elevator began moving without any of them pushing a button. "And welcome to Stark Tower, Mr Wilson, Sergeant Barnes."

"That's JARVIS," Steve explained as Wilson looked up, clearly impressed. "He's an AI - a really smart computer program - that runs the tower."

"...Just James, please, JARVIS," James said after a moment, deciding not to touch on the fact that he knew what an AI was and that JARVIS was one; his memories were coming back all the time, and mission details as the Winter Soldier were coming back most easily. Pushing aside those thoughts, he added, "Dunno what my status with the Army is these days, but I can't imagine I still have my old rank from the War."

"As you prefer, James," JARVIS said, and James marvelled at the warmth he could hear in the voice, much more human than even Zola's personality algorithm had been. "Sir is expecting you all in the main living room of the common floor."

James tuned out Wilson starting to ask questions and Steve or JARVIS answering them. The sensation of craving that awful little blue fruit was back again, and he had to fight the urge to scowl so as not to alarm the two men or the AI watching them. Seriously, if he ever managed to find his soulmate now that he knew he had one, they were going to have words about it at some point. He thought he could remember something about someone he had known - a family member? - who had craved spicy food while hating spices, and he hoped they had gotten that resolved because craving something he hated tasting was really annoying.

The elevator doors slid open, allowing James and Wilson to follow Steve into a huge, open plan living room with four black leather couches spaced around a square coffee table. The man waiting for them, dressed in a charcoal gray bespoke suit with a royal purple button down shirt and lavender silk tie and pocket square, was sitting perched on the coffee table rather than on any of the couches and appeared to have his attention focused on the tablet in his hand until he spoke, addressing James directly despite not looking up.

"That arm's a complete mess, Barnes," he said, not bothering with pleasantries or even really acknowledging Steve or Wilson. "JARVIS took scans in the elevator since you were coming to see me about it, and I gotta tell you I am thoroughly offended by it on so many levels."

"Not like HYDRA could recruit you at all, so they had to make do with third-best," James said easily as he shrugged his flesh shoulder, metal elbow jabbing into Steve's ribs when the frowning blonde opened his mouth. "A'course, since they upped your threat level to 'do not engage', I think they stopped trying."

"Nobody ever calls me, even when they really, really should," Stark agreed, and oh, that was a sharp little smile directed at Steve. James mentally ran through the file HYDRA had on Tony Stark coupled with his own private observations that had somehow not always made it into his reports, and gave Steve's weirdly guilty yet mulish expression a sideways look. Suddenly, the fight over the Potomac that had led to James breaking conditioning completely was being thrown in a new light, and he wasn't sure he liked the implications.

"There wasn't time to call you," Steve was saying, and it was clear that Wilson was hearing the words as an apology but Stark's eyes were sharp and narrow and James would bet the contents of his pockets and all seven of his secret weapons caches that the man knew as well as James that Steve was lying.

"Sure, whatever," Stark said dismissively, letting it go at least for the moment and turning his attention back primarily to James. "Point is, I've got a meeting I need to be at in twenty minutes and even a basic maintenance session's gonna take at least an hour, maybe two, so you can either hang out here in a guest room or something until... J?"

"You will be finished with the shareholders in time for dinner and have no pressing appointments afterwards until tomorrow morning, Sir," JARVIS answered.

"So, yeah, hang out here and I can squeeze you in after we eat," Stark said, making James blink at the implication that an invitation to have dinner with Stark was being extended, "or you can ask J to block out a few hours in my schedule that'll be all yours and come back then. Or both, if you wanna go ahead and get me out of a few more meetings this week."

"What's for dinner?" Wilson asked. James shot him an incredulous look, which Wilson returned with an even stare. "You're still working your way back towards eating real food, man, don't think we didn't notice. Last thing you need right now is to make yourself sick eating something your body's not ready to handle even if it'll probably taste a hell of a lot better than those ration packs of yours."

"Bruce is cooking tonight," Stark said after a moment, an odd expression on his face as he looked at the group. "He usually makes curry, but I think he said he was making some kind of beef and vegetable stew that Natasha likes."

"Stew is fine," James said, keeping his tone even despite the sudden twist of nerves at the mention of the Black Widow. She had been with Steve and Wilson in DC, but had been absent when they crossed paths in Indiana. "If you're sure Dr Banner won't mind making extra."

"Yeah, it's fine, stew's easy to expand the number of servings," Stark assured him with a wave of his hand that might have seemed flippant and dismissive if James hadn't been so aware of the heavy focus that was still being aimed his direction. "Might end up a little broth-heavy, but there should be enough that even a super soldier won't go hungry."

"Well, thank you for inviting us," Steve said, proving to James once again that the man really didn't know how to read Stark at all. Wilson at least was looking at Steve askance, having picked up that the invitation wasn't directed at all of them even if he didn't seem to realize how pissed off Stark was at Steve, but Steve was looking at Stark, all but daring the man to say they weren't welcome.

"Saves the trouble of tracking you down later, I'm sure," Stark said, neatly bypassing the entire question. He stood up and tucked the tablet away inside his suit jacket, pulling a white plastic bag out in its place and reaching inside of it. "So, I'll be off to deal with the shareholders while you hang out here. JARVIS can handle any requests you might have for entertainment or whatever else you need."

JARVIS will be watching you, James heard loud and clear, and nodded his acceptance of the AI's monitoring. They were reluctant guests at best, after all, and Stark was clearly not interested in rocking the boat or starting a fight if he didn't have to--

The sudden burst of that blue fruit craving drove all thought of Steve and Stark's battle of wills out of his head and James found himself staring at Stark in shock as he watched the man lower his fingers from his mouth and chew. Stark noticed - of course he did, the man had to be at least as observant as James was - and raised an eyebrow, the hand holding the white plastic bag tilting to angle the bag's opening in James's direction.

"Blueberry?" his soulmate asked.

#soulmate au #winteriron #not age of ultron compliant #not civil war compliant #mcu fic #steve rogers critical

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aries-writingblog · 3 years

Text

Home Again

Summary: “Home is not where you are born; home is where all your attempts to escape cease.” ~ Naguib Mahfouz

Word count: 1318

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: some angst, mentions of wounds

A/N: GIF is not my own, credit to original creator. The quote used in the summary is also credited to original owner

It had been a very long, very tiresome three weeks for one James Barnes. One of the longer missions he was sent on, three weeks in the middle of nowhere Russia with no unnecessary communication. He would consider contacting YN a top priority but no one else seemed to share the sentiment.

The mission started badly. They couldn’t land the jet, too much risk. So he, Sam and Steve all had to jump. The freezing wind and icy snow he landed in jolted his memory- tossing him carelessly into the Austrian Alps again. His mind tricking him into thinking it was 1945. He was thrown off his game the entire day. Being shot in the chest the same week would worsen his mood.

Three weeks with Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers could drive any man mad- no matter how fucked their brain already was. Add in no outside contact, no sleep and nightmares- the man was a wreck. To top it all off, they had lost the market arms dealer they were tracking. It took an extra four days to track him down again.

As soon as the jet touched down at the Tower, Bucky was on his bike. Doing ninety to nothing- desperate to get home. To her. He had nearly fallen off the bike at a red light, distracted and over- exhausted. But he made it.

Home. To Bucky it was a blend unlike any other. It was two story house on the outskirts of Brooklyn. Granted, the building was a fixer upper- the porch was old and splintered. He had plans to repair it but they kept getting pushed back. The inside was basically gutted, every room was bare. Save for the kitchen and bedroom they were certain to fix up first, before moving in.

Hints of YN filtered through- mixing with the old house. The way her hair brushed her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes as they stood together. Facing the newest challenge. Her smile, her laugh. Her. A cacophonous symphony of warmth and love unknown to him before.

Daylight was breaking, light reflecting off the windows. He practically melted from the motorcycle- shoving his backpack off his shoulders upon entering the door. The pack hit the ground with a dull thud.

His footsteps were louder than normal- it had been a grueling mission. Bucky was so close to home that he couldn’t hold himself together anymore. He allowed the heavy boots to make dull thuds across the wooden floors, too exhausted to tread lightly. His movements choppy.

He toed the boots off at the door- he knew better than to track mud through the house. Even if it was currently in a state of disarray. She would still have his ass later if he did. Passing through dark, empty rooms, Bucky couldn’t stop from scanning every corner as he continued his trek. Eyes methodically dismantling each room, searching for anything out of place. Any bad news he could find.

He only smoothed his movements as he neared the bedroom door. He made sure his steps were quieter, movements more fluid as he turned the handle.

And there she was.

YN. Home.

Bucky couldn’t stop the sigh pushing from his chest as he laid eyes on her. The thick comforter was pulled all the way up her chest, even with the ceiling fan turning leisurely above her. The morning sunlight was drifting through the blinds- a hazy halo of light arcing across the pillows. Landing over her glossy hair in strips of golden glory.

His eyelids drooped lower upon seeing the bed before him. Bucky made quick work of his jacket and pants, shedding his t shirt as he stumbled toward the comfort he had been craving.

As he lifted the sheets, YN rolled over, her eyes peeking open. A sleepy smile pressed at her lips as she held her hands out to him- making grabby motions. Bucky chuckled, fatigue dripping from the sound as he settled in beside her.

“Didn’t mean to wake you.” He apologized, feeling her warm body press to his. YN shook her head, arms wrapping around his middle.

He watched as her eyes scanned his body. The healing bullet wound on his chest, the cut across his eyebrow, the bruise on his temple. She was careful as she scooted over, pressing her head ever so lightly against his chest. Arms squeezing him tightly- trying to replace the feelings that followed him home.

“Missed you, Jamie.” She muttered, voice raspy and deep from her interrupted slumber. Bucky sighed, allowing his arms to rest against her waist, tugging her closer. He felt his muscles relax with her touch. Cells responding on a molecular level- writing the stress and damage he had endured away and replacing it with a loving embrace from the woman he loved.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head, inhaling her shampoo. A familiar scent. On It’s own accord, one hand crawled up her spine, fingers tangling through her hair. Holding her face to his chest. Clutching her to his body as though she would soon dissipate if he weren’t holding her together. “You have no idea, how much I’ve missed you.”

YN heard the crack in his words- the emotion lacing his tone. She also noticed the fatigue in his limbs, the weight upon his shoulders. Body collapsing in upon itself as he neared her.

“You want to talk about it?”

Bucky shivered, a cold chill burning his spine. His lips brushed her temple softly, building up his voice. A restrained burn in his chest. The rolling pit of his stomach.

“No… I… I just want to be home right now.” He clarified, his fingers landing on her pulse in her neck. The sedated beats under her skin grounding his wandering mind. The heat from her body, scent of the bedsheets, making him drowsy. “I just want to sleep.”

In her sleep hazed mind, YN could register the weight of his words. Bucky barely slept- almost never slept in their bed at that. The fear of being ambushed by the Soldier- his body hijacked while he slept… he vehemently opposed putting her in that position. Then he tossed and turned on the cushy mattress, annoyed at himself for having the potential to wake the sleeping beauty at his side. It was a rare occasion to find him stumbling through the dark, hands tugging the sheets and pulling her close.

He would never admit it but the nights he found comfort in her were the nights it was all too much. Too many voices, too many memories…too many regrets. By then he was exhausted beyond repair. Appearing to wear every one of his 107 years on his skin, on his face and expression. Most nights, he would busy himself around their home, doing quiet activities he had lying around. Painting the top portions of the walls she couldn’t reach, repairing plaster on the walls, staining the wood or things of the nature. He had even started on her soon- to- be gardening plots out back one night. It helped to have the projects- it gave him something to do with his hands. Gave his mind a reprieve.

YN had already ducked under his arm, curling around his body and pressing her face to his chest. Intent on providing for him in any way she knew how. Gentle, physical touch always made him calm, she had learned. She heard his breathing stutter and quicken. Felt his chest heave twice as he composed his emotions. Only revealing parts of himself through the receding darkness of their bedroom. Pressing a gentle kiss to his chest, she felt him squeeze her shoulder, giving quiet thanks for her actions.

“Then sleep, beautiful.” She whispered. Her angelic tone charmed his ears, only adding to the weight of his eyelids. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #james barnes x reader

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greenbergwrites · 2 years

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while snooping your account (as I do) I saw you posted about a dream you had where Steve was a sick lil omega and needed to go to the doctor and was assigned bucky as a heat partner and I just!! bc I love that idea. I could see Bucky having so much respect for omegas (especially runts like Steve) and maybe he only signed up as an assigned alpha bc he was low on cash but takes his job very seriously. maybe his first assigned omega is little innocent Stevie who’s shy bc they assigned him to the most attractive alpha he’s ever seen in his life and bucky just reassures him that he’s enough and he’s safe, while giving him his knot of course lbr

I barely remember the dream, but omega Steve needing a heat partner is always a beautiful thought.

I don’t know if they’d have a facility for heats or not. On one hand, the Omegas would probably be more relaxed at home, but on the other, inviting someone into their home seems overly personal.

But let’s just go with a facility for now, because making sure the Omegas are safe during their heats would definitely be a priority.

The Omegas arrive a few days before their heat, probably, to get acclimated to the environment and for a suitable partner to be chosen.

Steve, runt that he is, is obviously a late bloomer. This is his first heat, and his instincts are all over the place. The room they’ve given him is cozy, but he spends the days leading up to his heat nesting. He’s fussy about the placement of everything, fussy about the pillows, the blankets, the sheets, etc.

I also imagine that one of his nesting instincts has him building his own little den in a corner that’s almost like a blanket fort–somewhere he can hide away when he’s feeling especially vulnerable.

And when he isn’t nesting, he’s rejecting every Alpha partner they send him. He tries to be nice about it at first, but their scents aren’t right, and he doesn’t want them touching anything in his room, or staying long enough that their scent lingers.

The Alphas probably aren’t happy about the rebuff, but there’s fuck all they can do about it. It’s Steve’s heat, and he’s in charge.

The closer his heat gets, though, the more upset he is at being without his Alpha. He’s especially sensitive, and probably spends hours upon hours hiding in his little den, trying to find a sense of calm and safety that instinctively, he knows won’t come until he has an Alpha.

It’s not just about the biological need to mate, it’s that Omegas are never more vulnerable than when they’re in heat, and an Alpha is, above all else, a protector. An Alpha would protect him, would make sure no harm came to him, while also fulfilling his baser needs. Steve is close to his most vulnerable state, and there’s no Alpha to protect him through it.

And then, suddenly, there is.

He hears the door to his room first, that particular knock that tells him it’s another Alpha sent to tease him with what he craves. The door opens after a moment, and Steve doesn’t even bother to crawl out to make whoever it is go away. Leaving the safety of his den would expose him too much.

The footsteps that come toward him aren’t particularly loud, but they’re confident in a way that only an Alpha’s footsteps could be. A tall, broad shadow falls over Steve’s den, and then as he watches, the shadow squats down. The flap to his hiding place is pulled up.

The scent hits Steve’s first. Masculine, woodsy, Alpha. A shudder runs down his spine, his belly tightening as heat spreads inside him. His cock is instantly hard, his hole growing wet, his nipples aching for attention. He whines softly, an instinctive sound meant to entice an Alpha closer.

A face appears in the opening. He’s older, this Alpha. His features are as rugged as his scent, stubbled and strong-jawed, with full lips and bright, warm eyes that look at Steve like Steve is already his.

“Well, hello there, beautiful,” the Alpha says softly.

Another shudder wracks Steve’s body. He feels his Alpha’s voice on his skin like a caress, raising goosebumps in its wake.

“Alpha,” he whines, reaching for him.

Steve wants his Alpha inside their den, wants to be under him, skin-to-skin, the way Alpha and Omega are meant to be.

His Alpha doesn’t make him wait. He crawls inside the cozy space, stretching out as much as he can on the other side of the wall of pillows Steve is hiding behind. He takes hold of Steve’s outstretched hand, twining their fingers.

As soon as they touch, the tension drains out of Steve. He moans sweetly, laying down on his little barricade as he guides that big, warm hand to his throat. Encouraging the Alpha to touch him. His whole body throbs in pleasure when this earns him a deep rumble of pleasure.

“Well now,” the Alpha murmurs, his fingers brushing along Steve’s throat. “You can’t be the one giving everyone such trouble. Not a sweet little thing like you.”

Another deep shiver runs along Steve’s spine.

“Alpha,” he whispers, turning to nuzzle against those fingers. “Where were you?”

He turns to look at the Alpha, his lips forming a pout very much against his will. He says it as though they’ve known each other longer than these past few seconds.

The Alpha smiles crookedly at him, his warm palm curving around Steve’s shoulder and trailing along his arm.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Yes.”

Such a silly thing to say, to think, but it feels true. It feels as though he’s been waiting all this time for this Alpha. His Alpha.

Another rumble of pleasure. Steve feels that sound in his core, heating him from the inside out.

“Careful, pup,” his Alpha says. “It’s dangerous saying things like that to a man like me.”

Thick fingers take Steve by the back of the neck, pressing in firmly to either side, the way teeth would dig in if they were wolves under the moon. It’s a dominant hold in either form, one that Omegas are especially susceptible to. Steve’s cock stiffens to the point of pain, threatening to release just from this–from his Alpha’s presence, his scent, his dominance.

Steve falls onto his back, showing his belly, lifting his chin to bare his throat. It’s what a touch like that demands, and it’s what he craves. With a groan, the Alpha follows him, easily decimating the pillow barrier and rolling on top of him. Steve’s legs wrap around his hips, another shiver overtaking him as he’s finally given what he wanted. His Alpha on top of him.

The Alpha isn’t shy about putting his weight on Steve, pinning him in place. He leans down to nuzzle at the throat bared for him.

“God, you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, his nose following the line of Steve’s neck, inhaling deeply. “And so close to heat. I can already smell it on you. Are you going to take me to your heat bed, beautiful? You gonna let me mount you the way your body craves? Or should I leave?”

The very thought of his Alpha leaving is a wound on his soul. He cries out, grasping at him hastily, his fingers digging into the meat of his Alpha’s shoulders. It’s a useless gesture; if his Alpha wanted to leave, he would. Steve isn’t a match for such strength, not even at his best.

“Don’t,” he begs hoarsely. “Don’t, don’t–please don’t leave–Alpha, please–”

The domineering hand around his neck is back, squeezing again, and Steve instinctively goes limp. The Alpha kisses his throat, sweetly.

“Shhhh,” he soothes. “That’s it, pup. Just relax. I’m not going anywhere, not unless you want me to.”

Steve starts to shake his head again, but the pressure on his neck stops him. His Alpha doesn’t want his denial, only his obedience, and he gives it happily.

Lips brush over his throat again. “Tell me your name, beautiful.”

“Steve,” he whispers obediently.

“Steve.” The lips on him curve into a smile. “My name is Bucky. I want you to remember that, because I won’t knot you until I hear you scream it.”

Steve moans, but he’s settled once more by his Alpha’s dominant hold.

“For now, beautiful little Steve,” his Alpha says, “you’re going to try to get some sleep. And I’m going to lay here and hold you while you do, so you can feel me near. Your heat is close, baby, and once it hits, you won’t care about anything but my knot. You need as much rest as you can get.”

Steve nods clumsily. “Yes, Alpha,” he says.

He wouldn’t have thought he could sleep, not keyed up the way he is, but his Alpha soothes him until it’s almost too easy, curling up in his arms and falling asleep.

It feels like only minutes later that he’s woken by a fire under his skin, every part of him aching for something that he can’t provide.

He doesn’t know how it happens, but his clothes disappear and then his Alpha is there–also gloriously naked–settling his weight between Steve’s thighs and taking his mouth in a bruising kiss. Their cocks slide together, and then he’s being shifted, thick fingers pushing into his aching hole. He cries into the kiss, his hips jerking, but there’s nowhere to go. All he can do is lay in his Alpha’s arms and feel.

“Are you going to let me take you to bed?” Alpha asks, an endless eternity of pleasure later. His teeth scrape along Steve’s jaw. “Once I mount you, beautiful, I won’t care where we are. I’ll keep mounting you as long as you let me.”

Steve shakes his head. “No,” he whispers hoarsely. “Please, no. Here, here.”

Alpha glances around the darkened space, before his eyes spark with understanding. He smiles down at Steve as he repositions himself, guiding his long, hard cock between Steve’s legs.

“Of course,” he murmurs. His cock nudges against Steve’s hole; it takes almost no pressure at all for Steve’s body to give, all too eager to take him. “Of course it should be here. Can’t let all this hard work go to waste, can I, baby? It’s so cozy and warm here, filled with your sweet scent. You deserve to be knotted in the den you made for us, don’t you?”

Steve comes. He isn’t sure if it’s the fat cock opening him, lighting along nerve-endings he didn’t even know he had, or if it’s the words. But molten pleasure lights up deep in his core and he whines helplessly as his cock spurts against his belly, untouched.

That pleasure drowns him, and he doesn’t resurface for days.

#nani asks #greenberg writes #prompt fills #a/b/o dynamics #heat #denning/nesting #coming untouched #don't look now but I highly suspect Bucky was not supposed to be there #he wanted to be a rogue alpha #probably another version of criminal!bucky #i would not be surprised

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junova · 4 years

Text

↬ 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

pairing: au!steve x fem!reader

summary: the one where you meet steve rogers.

word count: 3.8K+

[author’s note]: hello my sunshines! welcome to the first installment of a short series i’ve been working on. hope you enjoy reading it as much as i loved writing it! lmk what you think <3

warnings: angst, slight dose of baby fluff (if u blink), cursing

*: ･ﾟ ✧*: ･ﾟ✧ *: ･ﾟ ✧*: ･ﾟ✧ *: ･ﾟ✧*: ･ﾟ✧

THE FIRST TIME IT HAPPENED was a slight shift in priority and truly, it wasn’t a big deal. You understood the two of them worked together, and time had run over. Later in the evening when he returned home, he apologized to you. Forgetting the two of you had plans while he with another woman, but you didn’t let it get under your skin. Above everything else, you trusted him.

Until the first time moved to the second one, than the third, until you couldn’t keep count of how many times he had ‘forgotten’ the dates the two of you had made. Still, you let it slide. This was your sweet, tender boy. You knew despite the growing tension he would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. Just like the past couple of months, you chalked it up to him just being too busy.

It had to be it.

—

Maybe more than anyone else, you understood. His step-father was pushing all his unrealistic expectations of their first and only child. Continuously pushing him to be the best of the best no matter the cost. Maybe in the past, he would have blamed his parents, specifically his father for pushing him so harshly to attend Winter University.

He had become resentful towards his father after his first year. He was stressed more than he liked to admit and the pressure to please him was always at an all time high. Heading into his third semester, he wanted nothing more than to drop out. The high intensity of each course he took too much to bear along with the very high expectations everyone in his family had for him. Just waiting for him to either succeed with grace or fail with shame.

As everyday passed, essay after essay, he regretted the life which was chosen for him. He feared of sounding like a spoiled brat who was gifted the riches of the elite and acted like it was a burden. It certainly was the reason why he never complained. He knew what it meant to have nothing. It didn’t cost a thing. Now with the world at his fingertips it felt it may cost him everything.

—

Tony suggested he should join the soccer team this year, so he did. Just as he was asked.

It’s not as if joining was ever completely out of question. Steve had played it in high school, but he never thought he would be good to make the team. As it turned out, he was.

He joined the team and it turned to be a good outlet for him to escape to. When everything seemed too much to juggle, he something in his life to blow off some steam. His roommate, Bucky, even made tryouts himself.

As the weeks droned by he found a nice balance with his assignments between practices. It certainly wasn’t easy at first, but he adjusted quickly. His body soon became acquainted with waking up for practices at the crack of dawn. Was it enjoyable? Hell no, but Steve was starting to feel like he truly belonged to something. He was part of team. He was part of a unit. He didn’t even knew he craved it until he had it.

The team captain, Wilson, urged Steve to attend the house party after their first win of the season. He was more than reluctant to attend when Bucky basically all put pushed him out of the dorms. He really did want to go, but the idea of all the assignments he was neglecting while he was partying didn’t quite sit right with him.

If it didn’t sit right with him, he’s sure it wouldn’t sit well with Tony.

Before he could offer some half excuse to ditch the party, an ice cold beer was shoved into his hand. Urging him to join the celebration activities.

So he did.

He played one too many games of beer pong, indulged himself in a few more drinking games before he felt slightly buzzed. It was the only time he let himself let go and not worry about a damn thing.

Then a few women came onto him, interested in something more than just platonic company. He took it as his cue to leave. Close to midnight, his muscles tight and restricting due to the game he had played, craving nothing more than to find the comfort his bed could offer.

He let Bucky know he was leaving so he didn’t worry and started to make his way back. Making his way through the house just moments from stepping out the front door, when he heard a small cry.

There was a small bar in the room adjacent to entrance Steve was hoping to make a beeline exit for, but then he saw you sitting there. On the countertop with tears in the most captivating eyes he had ever seen. You really didn’t seem to be looking at anyone in particular. Your eyes following the bodies that passed you almost as if you were in a haze.

You still hadn’t connected the dots on how intently Steve was looking at you and he was more than appreciative. He really didn’t want to be perceived as a creep but you were alone and probably drunk. He just wanted to make sure no one would take advantage of you.

As carefully as he could, he approached you with a peace offering at hand. He picked up a red velvet cupcake with frosted icing on his way out, planning on munching on the delicious treat on his way home. He sensed maybe you would need it more than he did.

The moment he stepped forward, you were acutely aware of his presence. His broad shoulders with his muscular build did nothing to diminish the fear you held when he approached you. Not looking at you like you were something to be owned or possessed, but as a bystander just wanting to offer a helping hand.

He was so much taller than you. Even as you sat on the counter of the bar, as soon as he close to you, his soft eyes connected with yours. Maybe it helped he didn’t lure over you at the moment, he just looked at you.

Then as if it was the most mundane act in the world, he reach into his back pocket to pull out a silky, lavender handkerchief and handed it over to you.

“Thank you.” You felt over the handkerchief, smoothing it out between your fingertips. More than hesitant to due so, it felt nice. Expensive, too much for you to be drying your wasteful tears with it. He was offering and you thought it might be rude not to, and you really didn’t trust your voice to say anything more than pleasantries.

So, you wiped your tears with it and it felt heavenly. Much like the boy in front of you looked. A few minutes passed, and your cries had settled down. The presence of his body protecting you or maybe it’s just what it felt like. He still hadn’t said a word to you.

Maybe an attempt to not scare you in the other direction. Naively, you thought he might be protecting you in some way shape or form. You knew you could take care of yourself if push came to shove, but the idea that maybe there was still some human decency out there was a nice thought.

It could be possible not every man preyed on women when they were at their most vulnerable. Of course, this one was wrapped in pretty packaging, so maybe that put you at ease.

“Do you have a safe way to get home?” Oh? He finally speaks.

“I can manage just fine.” You chipped, quite shortly to him. Watching him carefully, as he took a step forward. He reached in the same pocket from before, pulling out a small index card, with a number printed on it in small red ink.

“On the small chance you can’t, ask for Happy and he can take you home. No charge, no hassle.” He then places the cupcake he had been holding in his right hand before placing it where you sat comfortably along with the card, before leaving you alone.

You watched as he walked out the door, not sparing you a second glance.

—

Maybe it was naive to let your mind drift back to the boy who had showed you kindness. Anytime another person spoke to you it was easy to assume they only wanted something from you. Searching for a reason to exploit the dean’s daughter.

Just two weeks ago when you were caught in a compromising situation you had been set up in, your mom had paid them off before the vulgar photograph spread throughout campus. The way she scolded you still fresh in mind.

The absolute disregard for your own feelings, but total care for her reputation was nothing short of surprise. Above all, her career had come first and you were just a simple pest threatening to ruin the life she had built.

Never neglecting to remind you of it.

You really wish you could just be the like her. Fiercely strong, not putting up with anybody’s shit but you were the complete opposite of her. Weak, fragile, more sensitive than you’d like to be.

She never quite missed a beat to let you know even if it’s what you wished for.

Her disappointment weighed heavily on your shoulders that night and Finnick abandoning you for the pretty blonde across the room did nothing to help your self-esteem either.

So, you sat on the vacant bar and cried. Only because you thought everyone was too engrossed with their preferred vices and the burn of vodka numbing their senses to hear you.

But a boy with silky, shining hair as golden as the sun sought you out like a moth to a flame. A large part of you waiting for crude, perverted comments to fly right out his mouth with no intention of catching them.

Then he left as soon as he came, not even leaving his name with you. Not as if you cared, you would never see him again.

Until you did, two weeks later to be exact.

Now, you were beginning to think he only came into your life when you seemed like a damsel in distress. Not only did a thunderstorm decide to show up on your supposed date night, but Finnick had decided to be a world colossal dick.

At this point it shouldn’t surprise you. He had shown you time after time it’s who he was and to think he would change was an idiots’ dream. Your dream, so to speak. This time he crossed the line, pushing you to your brink.

“Please baby. I’m sorry. It honestly was just a slip up, an oversight. Truly. It won’t happen again.” You regret even picking up his call in the first place. Now more than ever, hearing his sorry excuses wash over once again filled your venom to the brim.

“I don’t give a fuck what your excuse is, Fin. This is the forth fucking time this week alone. I’m done with your bullshit.” Your anger once again getting the best of you, but you were well within reason to be bitter about him forgetting a date the two of you had planned once again.

“Can we just talk? I’m finished and I’m free for you.” His tone was small, minuscule, almost like he actually cared he had let you get your hopes up.

“Go talk to someone who fucking cares, Finnick.” You hung up on him as he was mid-sentence, because dear god lord help you if it actually became any importance to you.

Now, it no longer mattered to you. You had given him more chances than you could count, but he always fell short. Maybe you expected more than you should from him. On the other hand, you been with him for over a year.

If you were you honest with yourself he acted the same as he did before. The only difference is the love had dissipated into dust, no longer letting you be blinded by him. His eyes didn’t glow with love but rather with an emptiness you couldn’t fill. Even if it’s all you wished for.

Now, on this shameful night, you stood outside waiting for a sign. Maybe a beacon of hope letting you know not everything was lost.

Hoping your four year relationship wasn’t tumbling down the drain.

Then you saw him, again.

Just like before you were struck by just how beautiful he is. Without a shadow of a doubt, he was the most attractive man you had ever encountered with.

His build made you recognize him instantly. The man who had given you the handkerchief to remedy the loss you felt that night. An act of kindness which hadn’t been reach out to you in so long.

Now, here you were crying in front of the handsome stranger again. Surely, he would think you were nothing more than a pathetic little girl.

This time he wasn’t alone which only seemed to triple your embarrassment. Accompanied by a man who seemed to be twice his age, more than likely his father. He hadn’t noticed you yet, thankfully. Even if he had, you doubted he would realize who you were.

He surely could have been drunk or out of his mind on the night he found you. Part of you knew he was of sane mind, but the shameful part of you wished he wasn’t so there would be nothing familiar about you.

Simply, you be a single face in a sea of many.

Fate would not be on your side today, because he approached you. Loudly enough to make his presence known but not too loud to scare you off.

Is this what it felt like to die inside?

He was even more beautiful than last time. A pure vision and by the way he carried himself, he knew it, too. Although, the mysterious blonde wasn’t arrogant but held confidence so infatuating you could help but be intrigued.

“Here.” He gestures softly, your big doe eyes meeting his own. He held the umbrella under the both of you, shielding you from the pelts of Zeus. “I can’t imagine you would want to get more drenched than you already are.”

Part of you wanted to dismiss him, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t let you even if you tried. Especially from the judgement from the man who was tucked safely by the front door.

Now, that he mentioned it, you hadn’t noticed you brought yourself out onto the curb from the restaurant allowing yourself to be coated in your shame.

The rain, too.

“Thank you. Again. Seems like I only know how to make myself appear as an emotional idiot in front of you.” Now, the two of you so close to one another the concept of breathing was hard for you to grasp.

It wasn’t lost on you the death glare the man he was just with looked at you like vermin. How you could anyone ever be associated with someone who looked as pitiful as you did?

Trust me, I was asking myself the same question.

“Take the handle.” The golden boy guided the umbrella towards you, all but shoving it into your hold. You thought he was going to walk away from you again but he took the moment of his gloved fingertips freed to remove the wool coat off of his muscled back. Carefully, placing the dry material on your shoulders.

He didn’t miss the quizzical frown upon your face, maybe if you weren’t crying you might have been the most stunning women he had ever seen.

Not even the rain could hide those puffy cheeks and under eyes from him. It wasn’t important to him now, not when you were shivering half to death.

“You’re freezing. You need to warm up.” His fingertip fastened the buttons on the coat, wrapping you in what smelled like him. A musky scent so refreshing you let it consume your senses. Immediately two sleek, jet black town cars pulled up to the curb where you stood by the mysteriously chivalrous man.

“C’mon doll.” He grabbed the umbrella, holding it firm as he reached his free hand out for you ready to take.

For an unknown reason, you latched on to him. Surprising even yourself.

The older man skipped in front of you opening the door, before hopping in with the man you still didn’t even know the name of.

In hindsight, probably wasn’t the wisest decision you’ve made but there was this underlying feeling. You trusted him. He had given you no reason not to, only providing his aid and care one both occasions.

Mindlessly offering him your address, now aware of how fucked you were if he wasn’t as kind as he seemed to be. Not only were you with one unidentified man, but two.

“Are you okay? Are you still cold?” He peered down at you, his eyes piercing through you with a soft warmth. In stark comparison to the man sitting across from you, his brown hues watching you for any sudden movement.

“I’m warmer now.” He nodded, accepting your affirmation for now. Itching to say more, wondering if you were as well.

The heater inside the vehicle seemed to leave him warmer than he would normally prefer, but kept it on even if it was making his body sweat profusely. Almost worried he might be making you uncomfortable, eyes following yours just to make sure you weren’t looking as he removed the blazer only know allowing his true physique to be exposed.

But god were you fucking looking.

You knew he was jacked, but to this extent? You didn’t know it was possible to look this good.

As soon as his eyes found your own, shamelessly checking him out, he figured now would be a wonderful time to insert himself in.

“You know, sometimes it’s easier to tell strangers your problems than the people closest to you.” Lowering his voice, so the older gentleman couldn’t hear him. “I-I don’t know why you’d assume I have a problem.” You looked at him and you felt like an unopened book but he still managed to know every little thing about you.

“Just a feeling, maybe. That’s all.” He didn’t bother you again the rest of the ride home and it bugged you. He clearly wanted to say something but he bit his tongue instead. Keeping his hand in his lap, making sure he kept his distance from you.

“Smile snowflake, you’re not getting soaked anymore.” The older man finally addressed you. Focusing his fury gaze upon you, waiting to elicit a certain reaction from you.

Snowflake?

“Tony, leave her be.” He hissed at him. For a moment, you thought he was being protective. He doesn’t know you idiot, think straight for once.

“Why? You decided to bring a stray without my consent. I’m just having fun, Steve.” You didn’t miss the tension growing between the pair, ready to brawl right here in front of you.

Steve.

Why did his name sound familiar to you? Do you know him? Is that why he was being kind to you? Did he somehow know you?

“If you don’t drop this I swear to god, Stark.” Thankfully enough for Steve, Happy interrupted the two men.

“Sir, we’ve arrived at the designated location.” The car coming to a halt and you couldn’t wait to bust out of here. Desperate to dry yourself, hopefully you still had time and you wouldn’t catch a cold.

Just as you feared, it was still pouring down. Fantastic.

“Thank you for the ride, really. You didn’t have to.” Your small, angelic voice barely ascending to a volume loud enough for Steve to hear you.

His eyes getting lost in you for a moment before looking through the window, the rain morphing itself into larger specs of hail.

“Jesus, it’s still fucking pouring. Let me walk you up.” He reaches towards the umbrella he had tossed into the empty seat.

“Steven. We need to go.” Tony had lowered his voice an octave lower, demanding Steve actually listen to him just this once.

“You can wait two minutes.” Rolling his eyes at him, before he intertwined his hand with your own. “C’mon.”

Held you right against his muscled chest as he pulled you out of the car and into him. Under the umbrella, tucked safely away from getting sick even further. He moved until you were under the protection for your patio. The rain once and for all shielded away.

“I’m sorry about, Tony. He means well but he’s a bit of an asshole.” Steve smiled down, looking like he had just won the lottery. “Really? I couldn’t tell.” Just like that, Steve let out a soft laugh. Showing off his perfectly aligned pearly whites, with a subtly you wished to possess.

“Oh shit! Here.” You begin to take off the coat he lended you, but his calloused hands stopped the gesture.

“Keep it. Please?” He questioned, almost like he was unsure of the words falling out of his mouth.

“Why?” You thought it was a simple question, but he must have stood there for a couple of minutes before actually responding you.

“It really just doesn’t fit me right, would hate for it to go to waste.” He mumbled it out, almost as if he was struggling with the concept of flirting with you.

“Okay, then. I’ll keep it.” You agreed with him, gripping it closer to you. Taking in his smell once again.

“Alright, then. You should get going. Wouldn’t want to keep Tony waiting.” He nodded, stepping away from you, battling a war with himself.

Just do it, dummy. This is your chance.

When you thought he was going to walk away, he took you in his arms. No longer caring about the damage your wet hair may cause to his suit. Not that Steve really cared to begin with.

“You don’t deserve whatever he’s giving you. Just know there’s always something better at the end of the tunnel, maybe even someone else willing to offer you more.” He breathed into your ear, before kissing you sweetly on the cheek.

“I’ll see you soon, angel.”

Leaving with more than enough to think about.

—

taglist: @tonystankschild

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