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thefanbasewhore · 3 years

Note

Can you do a soulmate Stucky x reader? I feel like you would write that so well, especially how you portrayed bucky in "are you mad at me" was so soft. The soulmate version would be so cute

Summary || Bucky and Steve meet their soulmate, which they had no idea existed.

Warning/content || fluff, a small explicit scene, fighting. Soulmate AU.

Paring || Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve rogers

I got a little carried away, but enjoy ❤️ not edited or beta read but I'm sleepy 😴

Bucky and Steve have had each other from the moment they have met. Imaging their surprise, being two little boys from Brooklyn seeing colors, something the two agreed to hide, pending the time period.

It was different now, a different time. They were accepted and while both of them loved each other, so very much, especially through the mind control, fighting each other, then for each other. They always knew something was missing.

A color, maybe even two, three. A part of them missing but they both collectively came to the conclusion that it was just that. Some missing colors, it happens sometimes.

It happens when they least expect it.

After Thanos, after Tony finally deciding to leave that kind of life behind, buying a small two bedroom house on the outskirts of the city. A home to grow old in, be together for the first time since before the war started but only one thing prevented that.

The house was a disaster, gutted to the foundations, no running water, green moss outside covered the whole house, the lawn completely out of control. For Bucky it was a hard no, it was a dump but the moment Steve fluttered those ridiculously long lashes, how could he say no?

So here they are, sweating on this 90 degree day, putting up new dry wall with no air-conditioning.

"What color should it be?" Steve asks, glancing to his dark haired lover, taking notice of his now shirtless appearance. Bucky let out a sigh, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Maybe we should get all of the walls up first."

Steve clicks his tongue, "I like the color green, like a nice pastel mint green."

"Whatever you want, honey." Bucky wasn't too picky, besides whatever made Steve happy, made him happy.

"Hello?" A sweet, feminine voice came from the kitchen. The doors left open because of the heat, there was nothing much in here anyways.

Steve pulls away from his task, pulling his shirt over his head to wipe his forehead with it. "Come in, we are in the kitchen."

Bucky wasn't too alarmed, Steve had told him previously that he hired a someone to make up the yard, nothing too fancy but the both of them were completely clueless when it came to plants, or gardens period.

"Quite a project you have going on here, Mr. Rogers." No doubt taking in the half gutted house along the way. While they have never met, they spoke on the phone briefly about his wants.

"You have no idea, Hun."

The woman looks around the kitchen first, noticing the freshly painted cabinet, the smell a dead giveaway, half eaten burgers thrown to the side on a small, make shift table with barely enough room to fit.

At first glance towards the man she notices the sharp jawline, defined but soft feature of the blonde as she greets him with a smile which soon drops in confusion as small dots of color appear. Stormy blue eyes with a full beard, Steve's mouth dropping agape as he notices the splirts of color - the missing colors for 106 years finally appear.

Bucky notices the tension in the room, shifting his attention from the wall to Steve, noticing how intensely he's staring, Bucky follows the line of vision and meets sweet eyes.

She's hit with another line of color, different from Steve's but now there's no more gray hue, bright yellows and blues. The outside is suddenly so bright and Bucky mouth drops.

This cannot be happening.

They sit there and stare for what seems like hours.

"I - ugh.." she starts, "What is happening?"

***

Sometimes life just throws curve balls, like finding out that your soulmate or in this cause soulmates are two, one hundred year old super soldiers who have already been in love with each other for over a decade.

The pull is already strong, nature intended for these souls to be together until death due part and honestly Bucky could feel it. With Steve he was used to the urge of wanting to have him close, kiss him every free minute he has but with the woman in front of him, it's new.

He doesn't even know her name, watches the way she nervously flickers from Steve's gaze to his own. She's beautiful.

Strong but delicate features, the curve of her nose is cute, cupid lips are so full... kissable. He can't stop staring, even with Steve and her in the mist of conversation. The make shift table cleared of all prior mess, Buck and Steve have to share a chair, which is quite comical, seeing two giant supersoldier try to share a small, old, dinning room seat.

Bucky's metal fingers twitch, metal plate click and whirl to life as he tights to urge to map her face out with his fingers. His heart is beating so fast, filled with so much... Love? Joy?

No matter how much Steve and Bucky try to hide it.. deep down they always knew, something was missing and in this case, someone.

"You're beautiful." The words catch both her and Steve off guard, Bucky blushes red something terrible but the sweet smile defuses the fire.

Well until she says something back, "You are too."

His whole face is hot and Steve reaches over to affectionately rub the back of his shoulder. Of course Steve was calm, he always is.

He handles things with lots of thought and understanding, while Buck is more hot headed, acts on the moment.

***

"It doesn't feel right." Bucky comments, watching from the window to insure she safely gets into the car. Steve sighs, by the time they're done talking darkness has filled the house. Steve affectionately squeezes the brunette's bicep, pressing a kiss to his hair.

"I know Bucky. This is a lot for her, for us. She needs to take time and reflect on this. She'll come to us when she's ready."

Bucky knows nothing then her name, and love for plants but chews at his bottom lip nervously. She's too far, the bond pulls at his heart strings. Now bonded forever. "What if she never comes back?"

"She will."

***

A few days pass, the kitchen is finally done, new appliances, new china and kitchen fully stocked. Steve is making something for Dinner - it smells amazing while Bucky starts painting the walls of the lifeless living room.

It's bare, not even something to sit on but no doubt with the stamina of two super soldiers it will be done by next week.

The knock on the front door is unexpected, but Bucky replies quickly. "I got it, Stevie!"

He expects some older, much wrinkly neighbor to be complaining about the noise of the nail gone or something this late at night. His mouth drops, a little shocked at the sight of her.

A very formal sitting dress, long and black, dips into a sweetheart neckline, the valley of her breasts easily visible. Hair is thrown into a neat updo, sexy and sleek.

Bucky clears his throat. "Hi." He squeaks out, feeling like a total idiot as he watches her nervously shift her weight from one heel to the other.

"Hi, I was in the area. A wedding for one my clients, thought I'd come say hello." Bucky wants to shake his head in disbelief that something so beautiful, just like Steve is made for him.

The universe sculpted and made two beautiful, breath taking human beings to be his and it's overwhelming. She's so pretty it's alarming.

It was a good excuse, the truth but not the real reason she stopped by. How could she tell them that they have been on her mind none stop? It physically hurts to be away for so long.

"Who is it, Buck?" Steve mumbles, interrupting the thick tension between the two.

"Come in, doll." Bucky's helps her with the jacket that lays over his shoulders, mentioning his head towards the direction of the kitchen, where his other lover is.

Steve is stunned none the less, he at least expected a few more days. Also, feeling much like Bucky, amazed by the radiating beauty.

He decides to play it cool, dimples forming with a breath taking smile. "Do you like spaghetti?"

Hours pass, time moves so fast with conversation, and adding wine to the mix surely didn't help.

The trio once again in the kitchen, but this time each have a chair, a new, more comfortable dinning set.

"You got this done fast. It's beautiful." She comments, "Colors are beautiful, I guess I have you two to thank for that."

Bucky shifts in his seat, the glass of wine is useless but still finds himself sipping from it. Her eyes are red, watery with a slight buzz.

"Do you feel it?" The question has both Bucky and Steve look at each other, watching her teary eyes as she presses a hand to sooth the ache in her chest. "It hurts, it hurts to be away. All week."

"It's normal." Steve answers just above a whisper, his next words make Bucky's bottom lip quiver. "I felt it every day for the last 5 years, Bucky was gone."

Bucky had never thought about it - there hasn't been enough time to. It's only been a month later since the return and it never occurred to him what Steve has gone through.

"Steve.." He starts, tears kiss his waterline as his fingers run through the blonde's hair. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't know, I -."

"Couldn't prevent it Buck. It happened but you're here now and.." Steve turns his attention towards the girl, tears slip past her eyelids. It's for Steve, for Bucky.. all the pain and suffering they've been through. "Hey, don't cry, it's alright beautiful."

It's feels right, despite barely knowing the man, nothing feel more right then being pulled into his chest as a large metal hand comforts her in a different way, rubbing the loose strands of hair as he murmurs. "We've got you now, you're our other half."

***

Months have past from that day. The house is finally done, everything they could have imagined with the additional of an extra tooth brush in the cup that sits on the bathroom sink, a pile of fuzzy blankets at the bottom of the bed and a five year old chocolate lab. Steve didn't mind much, he's always loved dogs, Bucky on the other hand...

"Alright, alright, Maverick." Bucky huffs, grocery bags in hand as the dog excitedly nuzzles his legs, following him throughout the house like it wasn't only an hour ago he's seen him. Once putting the bags down, hears the whine, big brown eyes staring up at him. Bucky sighs, dropping to a knee before petting the pup's head. "Alright you mutt, don't tell anyone about this."

"Too late, pal." Bucky jumps, hearing the amusement in Steve's voice, followed by the giggle of the woman that peers out from behind him. Wrapping her arms around Steve before testing her head against his shoulder.

"Caught you red handed, you love Mav." Bucky grumbles at her words, feeling two smaller hands wrap around his waist as a head falls into his chest. He presses a soft kiss into her hair before taking in the blonde that barely fits through the doorway he leans against.

Bucky's free hand reaches out, mentioning him closer but as she's soon finds herself in the middle of a super soldier sandwich. "Hi, baby." Bucky presses a kiss to the blonde's lips.

"Hi, pal."

***

"It's only one mission. That's it, we will be in and out." Steve promises, not liking the way his girls face twist into a worried expression.

Heavy eyes, lower lip sticking out to pout. "What if something happens? If you get hurt? Or if they find you, Bucky?"

"I told you, Hydra is gone, honey." Bucky's large hands sooth over her tight shoulders, pressing soft kisses to the back of her upper traps.

"No. You still have nightmares at least three times a week. This can't be good for you. And you." She turns her attention back towards Steve, "Barely sleep four hours a night. You carry the fault on your shoulders, you don't need anymore. I don't want you two to go."

"We don't have a choice. They were my family once, I owe this to them." Steve didn't miss the way her lips moves to form a snarl, not sparing another glance as she makes a b-line for the stairs.

Bucky sighs, leaning against the wall. "She's going to be mad at us." Rubbing his chest with hopes to ease the burn.

The bond pulls at their hearts, a slow, painful punishment for their actions.

They return two weeks later, tired, just wanting to see their girl. The moment they walk into the house they look at each other with will wild eyes, heart pumping as they fear the worse. The dog, the annoying wiggling tail that would bark is one where to be found, something is wrong.

It's alarming. "Where is that freaking mutt?"

Steve calls her name, but there is no answer. Bucky and him are searching the house, ascending the stairs, opening the bedroom door with a deep sigh of relief.

The stupid dog takes up half of the bed, but is cuddled into his owner. Arm draped around the ball of fur, amount as long as her.

The dog lifts his head, a little tail waggle as Steve stretches his ears, lowering to his knees and laying his top half over the bed to press loud, audible kisses to his ears. "Good boy, protecting our girl while we are gone."

When morning comes she notices the dog is still pressed against her, licking small stripes against her cheeks. "Have to go out, buddy?"

She barely makes it five steps before tripping over two rather large bodies, sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor. Bucky groans and Steve's eyes flicker open.

"Why are you on the floor?"

"Wanted you to sleep pretty girl. Mav was taking up all the room and you looked like an angel." Bucky hums in agreement despite his eyes being closed.

"Mmm, well it's all free now." It's short, simple but the sarcastic tone has Bucky's eyes flickering to meet his boyfriend's. They both sigh, staring up at the ceiling, knowing it's going to be a long day.

And it is. She's does whatever she can to get away from them, only answers with short replies to the point Bucky can't take it anymore.

"Sweetheart," Bucky tries again but she doesn't acknowledge him, eyes stayed glued to the book. He gets fed up, metal plates click as artificial appendages run over the binding and pull it from her grasp.

"Give it back, James."

He cringes at the name, a displeased frown wears his face. "No, you have to talk to us."

"No."

"You're bring a brat." Bucky starts, watching her expression change from annoyed to anger, wrinkles of frustration pinch between her eyebrows.

"Buck - don't say that to her." Steve comments, it's his fault, he's the one who said yes without confiding in her first.

"She is, it's over with now. She has no right to be this mad."

"No right?" Her chest fills with emotion as a humourless chuckle causes both men to stiffen. "No right? Huh Buck? I sat here for two full weeks, no communication, nothing while the two of you are out there fighting God knows what after you swore, promised you would always be with me. Don't promise me forever if you're just going to throw yourself in danger! You're going to die and leave me, or worse! Both of you will."

No one says a word, only watch as her chest rises and falls with deep, heavy pants despite the tears that rolls past her eyes lashes.

"Honey, I'm sorry -."

"I don't want to hear it James, and you." She turns towards Steve, fire in her soul. "I thought you would understand, more then him, considering it has happened to you."

She leaves the room without another word, Buck turns towards Steve, watching the way he fights the tears that gather. The pain of loosing Bucky is still so fresh, "She's right Buck, we fucked up."

"I know, I know." He mumbles into Steve's shoulder, pulling him close.

***

"You're so good to me, sweet girl." Bucky moans as she shifts her hips against him, the blunt end of his cock hitting the spot inside her that makes her squeal for more.

Large hands squeeze her hips as Steve leans over to find his boyfriend's lips, kissing him through the gasps and whines of their girl's name as she circles her hips around Bucky.

Steve's hands pull at his hair, lips trailing from his lips, down his cheeks before nipping at his jaw.

"How does he feel honey?"

"So good, Stevie." For a second he's in a trance, watching the way her face contours with pleasure and the pain of her third orgasm well on its way.

Steve lays next to Buck, hand wrapping around his own heaviness between his legs as he stokes it, switching between her face of pleasure to Bucky's, who bites his lip to suppress a moan.

It's short lived as hips stutter against her own, coating her walls with his warm cum.

Steve barely gives her time to recover, positioning her on his hands and knees before hovering over her ear and nibbling on it. "My turn, honey."

***

Her hands nervously shake, the kitchen table is all set up, dinner is ready but at the moment she doesn't have an appetite.

Between this morning sickness, the overall change her body is under going, food makes her sick. The opening of the front door makes her sit up straight, sucking in a deep breath.

Two voices conversationing in the hall, "I thought I said for you to lock the door when we leave." Buck is clearly annoyed, it's been a long day but Steve rubs his shoulders, mumbling something incoherent.

Upon entering the kitchen, they both grow worried. Face drained of color, red blotchy eyes with shaky hands.

"Hey, hey." Steve drops to his knees in front of her seat in an instant, hands curling around her wrist as worried steel blue eyes follow his stance, reaching over to stroke her cheek. "What is it? What happened?"

"I'm pregnant." She pauses, "I'm scared, I'm scared. What if someone comes for you? How are we supposed to raise a baby? What if it has the serum, will it ever be safe?"

The questions fill Bucky with dread, how much though put into every sentence, every word is like a new hit of pain to his body but he stays strong. For his girl, he leans forward, wiping the tears away from discolored cheeks. "Everything is going to be fine babydoll, you're going to be fine, our baby is going to be fine."

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fluff #fatws bucky #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve x bucky #steve x reader #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #stucky x reader #stucky

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sambvcks · 3 years

Text

redefined, b.b. x reader

summary: just because those ten words no longer wreak havoc on his mind does not mean they are gone. just redefined.

warnings: mentions of food, blood, gunshot wound

word count: 3.7k....whoops

author’s note: first standalone! i’m also itching to work on a sam story next. the last episode still lives in my mind rent free and this is a reworking of that which diverges from civil war and we get one big happy avenging family that aren’t dead :)

[ read on ao3 | masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

Longing

An Avenger.

The concept was still so foreign to Bucky, despite dozens of successful missions under his belt and a permanent residence in the tower. Still, every morning he sprung up in bed expecting to still be in some run-down apartment halfway across the world, on the run.

Instead, he would awake on a plush mattress that offered little back support. He would shuck on the first shirt his bleary eyes could see and pad into the hallway, the smell of fresh coffee overtaking his superhuman sense of smell. You would be perched at the kitchen counter, pouring over mission files stained with coffee rings that Tony would later complain about.

Steve and Sam would have already come through on their way to their morning run, the coffee pot running dangerously low. You’d already placed his favorite mug nearby, two packets of sugar emptied into the bottom. A routine.

Bucky didn’t think he’d ever have a routine again.

His hand would press against your shoulder in a familiar greeting as he passed, you’d grin up at him with sleepy eyes and a lazy smile before returning to your work. Your cereal sat forgotten beside you, the overly sweetened kid’s choice growing soggy.

It was a silent and comfortable interaction. Neither worked to fill the quiet or felt the need to. Even with Steve, there was always talking and planning and ‘what about this’. With you, it was so natural to just exist how he was in that moment. No excuses, no whispered apologies.

He pushed his back against the sink as he sipped at his coffee, eyes immediately settling on your distracted figure. Your pajamas were wrinkled, mouth formed into a perfect concentrated from as you hunched uncomfortably, hand scribbling furiously. He swallowed and decided you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, especially with your coffee breath and fingernails chewed to nubs.

He wanted so desperately to move across the kitchen and press himself perfectly against you, to push aside your paperwork and demand your sole attention. His hand clenched into a fist as he longed to feel your soft, round cheeks in his hands, how warm you would feel against the cool metal of his left and how you’d nuzzle closer still.

He hadn’t heard the dragging footsteps of Steve and Sam returning from their run and didn’t even notice them until they were settled at the doorway, watching him watch you.

“Morning.” Steve grinned, all knowing. Bucky cleared his throat and refocused on his mug.

“Morning.” Bucky replied with a look that said ‘don’t say anything’.

Rusted

Bucky learned that if you weren’t cooped up in your room or camped out on the kitchen island, you were tucked away in Tony’s garage. On slow days where it seemed everyone was off in their own little world, Bucky would know to find you under the hood of one of Tony’s vintage cars, each kept in pristine condition, but you claimed that ‘there’s always something to work on’.

Bucky was never a car guy. His family was too poor to even think of ever owning his own car. He didn’t even have his own license and technically couldn’t legally ride his bike either. He found out quickly that being an Avenger meant the term legal could be bent a bit. So, he wasn’t a car guy. But the sight of you with streaks of grease across your face and your raggedy workshop clothes would have him buying one just to see you work on it.

You were notoriously protective of your little hideaway, the music loud and the sound of metal ringing as you fixed and fiddled with every little thing. Steve nearly got a wrench to the face when he tried to distract you from Tony’s antique Chevy.

Bucky was different, though. He was always different.

He would sit himself on a tall stool positioned next to one of Tony’s many rolling tool chests. You’d call out a tool and he’d rifle through the collection until he found what he thought was the right one and only slightly tease him when he’d emerge with the wrong one. Typically, you’d spend these afternoons in silence, the thumping of the heavy base of whatever crazy metal album you picked the only soundtrack to your work.

Sometimes, though, you’d play gentle rock music. Bucky would ask questions on what you were doing, how you learned to do all of this, why you did it when Tony worked on these cars enough for the both of you.

You’d fish your rag from your pocket, concentrating on scrubbing the grease from under your fingernails as you answered.

“I like using my hands. I like fixing things. For every car that Tony has in this garage, there are hundreds just like it sitting in junkyards gathering cobwebs and rust.” You looked up at him from under eyelashes and Bucky knew you were speaking about much more than just hunks of metal. “They’re worthy of love and care.”

You were talking about him, too.

Seventeen

Bucky didn’t think this superhero business would have so many parties. There seemed to be a celebration for everything. Galas, fundraisers, full on parades whenever Tony happened to wake up in a good mood.

At least this one is a holiday, he thought to himself as he nursed his third beer of the hour. Not that it did anything other than keep his hands occupied.

The year was coming to a close, and the top floor of the Avengers Tower was decked in golden confetti and banners to ensure no one forgot. The music was obnoxiously loud, and the lyrics made little sense, but everyone seemed to be having a good time mingling and even venturing to the dance floor.

No matter how many times Sam tried to drag him in with an invisible rope, Bucky was not going to dance. Well. Maybe he would if you asked.

The party had been in full swing for hours now, with only ten minutes until the ball a few blocks up finally dropped and he could sneak away to his room without a teasing ‘bedtime already, old timer?’ from Nat.

Still, the party raged on and he eyed the glass door to the balcony. He downed the last of his beer, brushing past enthusiastic partygoers with his shoulders hunched forward in some attempt to minimize the space he took up in the room that only seemed to be getting smaller. He caught Steve’s eye on the way out and plastered on a smile in response to his disappointed look.

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding as soon as the glass door slid closed behind him. His eyes closed as he leaned back against it, the chill of the December New York air blew his hair in every direction.

“Fancy meeting you here.” You were sat in the far corner, so well hidden he hadn’t even noticed you, though he had been on the lookout for you all night. “Tired of the festivities?”

“And Tony’s music.” He grumbled as he fell into the seat beside you.

“Been waiting for you for the past thirty minutes. Honestly, you made it a lot longer than I could’ve in there.”

You were waiting for him. You wanted him to be there, with you, tucked away from everyone else’s prying eyes. He wanted that, too. Sometimes he wanted it so much it scared him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, doll. It’s not polite for a gentleman to make a girl wait.”

“Hmm, I think I’ll find it in myself to forgive you.” Your shoulder pressed against his, eyes focused on the smattering of buildings surrounding you. Identical parties were happening in each of them, you were sure. “Can you believe another year is gone?”

“I can’t believe I’m about to make it to 2017 and my back hasn’t given out yet.”

You laughed, loud and unabashedly in a way only Bucky could make you laugh. Head thrown back and eyes glittering from the city lights, Bucky wanted to spend every new year you would allow him to by your side, trying his best to make you laugh again.

“Well,” You stood to peer over the glass railing, Bucky close behind you. You could hear the drunken cries inside as the countdown begun. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me too.” Bucky offered his hand to you. You took it easily.

5, 4, 3…

He wanted nothing more than to pull you close, to finally press a kiss on the lips that had thrown teasing remarks at him during missions. To once and for all end this little dance you both loved so much. But you looked so perfect.

Bucky wasn’t ready to ruin that perfection with everything wrong with him quite yet.

“Happy 2017, Bucky.” You whispered as the fireworks started, but Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes from you.

“Happy 2017, doll.”

Daybreak

The mission had been long and grueling. The week-long stakeout turned into two and quickly turned into a month away. You can’t remember the last time you’d had a good night of sleep that wasn’t interrupted with Bucky’s hand on your shoulder, telling you it was your turn to keep watch.

It wasn’t a horrible mission, more of an exercise in patience and restraint than anything. Bucky’s stories kept you entertained enough, and he was a good partner. Which is why you were paired together more often than not.

Still, it was nice to finally collapse into your familiar bed, not even bothering to kick of shoes or take a much-needed shower. Your sleeping schedule was all out of whack and you tossed and turned, despite the exhaustion seeping through your bones.

After fifteen minutes, you finally huffed a sigh of defeat and stumbled back to your feet. You showered, which was a few good days overdue, and dressed in your largest, most comfortable pajamas.

You weren’t surprised to see Bucky up as well, sitting at the dining table with a mug of fresh coffee.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His foot kicked out the seat beside him as an invitation.

“Sleeps overrated, anyways.” You shrugged, slumping into the seat and pressing your face into the cool glass of the table.

“Sleep is good for you.” He insisted, reaching forward to brush aside the hair that had curtained over your face. “You deserve a good night’s rest.”

“So do you, Buck.”

He stayed silent for a while, just sipping at his coffee and stealing glances at you, face trained out the floor to ceiling windows. He really didn’t know what he deserved, anymore. Sure, he had made some semblance of peace with what the Winter Soldier had done with his body. He was better, that was certain.

Worthy of you and all your unwavering sweetness? He wasn’t so sure.

You idly chatted about nothing for hours, filling comfortable silence with talks of the mission and the food poisoning he had given you when he tried to make dinner two weeks in. You sat side by side until day broke the next morning, eyes squinting at the sun peeking over skyscrapers and finally finding the need to fall shut in rest.

“I guess I should say ‘good morning’ instead of ‘good night’.” You were the first to stand, shuffling towards the hallway that led to your bedroom.

“Good morning.” He answered as you padded away, deciding he would be just fine losing sleep every night if it meant he could watch the sunrise by your side.

Furnace

“Doesn’t Tony make enough money to keep this place at least habitable?” You grumbled as you fell into the couch beside Bucky.

“I’m fine.”

Bucky sat in his patent jeans and t-shirt, unphased by the temperature that practically had your teeth chattering. You were bundled in multiple layers, including one of the many sweatshirts he’d wear jogging on cold mornings and blankets you had stolen off his bed. Your glare from under your cocoon of warmth rivaled even his.

“I’m not a muscle-y super soldier-”

“You think I’m muscle-y?”

“-that runs so hot you’re basically a personal furnace.”

“Oh, so now I’m hot.”

“I would strangle you to death right now, but I’m about to lose my fingers to hypothermia.” You burrowed further into your smattering of blankets with a violent chill running down your spine. Bucky simply rolled his eyes and marked the spot in the book he had been reading before you stormed in.

“C’mere.”

He balled up a fistful of one of your blankets, tugging you even closer to him. You opened your arms to allow for direct contact, sighing contently as your face pressed into his shoulder and legs tangled with his. You sighed contently as you welcomed his warmth, shimmying as close as you could get.

“Better?”

“The best.”

Nine

“Do you ever think what your life would be like? If you’d gotten to go home?”

Even a year ago, this question would have turned Bucky into a brooding mess. He would have delved into every little moment he had missed, every plan that had been turned upside down when he fell from that train all those years ago. But he was better now, more contemplative. He wouldn’t drown in the idea of what could have been because he knows what it’s like to be on the other side.

“I like to think I would’ve gone to college.”

“Really?”

“You calling me dumb, doll?”

“No! You’re the smartest person I know. I’m just picturing you at college. Carrying textbooks and wooing all the dames.” You fell into him at the thought, a fake swoon overtaking your face.

“I’d be too busy studying for dames.”

“Studying what?”

“I always liked math. Maybe engineering or something. Wanted to be a teacher before the draft.” He shrugged like the information was no big deal, but to you it was everything.

“Professor Barnes. Kind of sexy.”

“Oh, shut up.” But his words held no malice. Instead, he was grinning that cheeky grin that pulled his cheeks into perfect rosy apples and his eyes crinkled in joy. “I wanted to have ten kids.”

“Ten?!”

“So we’d be a dozen. My own little army of mini-Buckys to take over the world. Couple sets of twins, maybe. Definitely as many girls as I could manage.”

Of course Bucky would be a girl-dad. Playing dress-up for fake tea parties and scaring off boys when they’d come ‘round for first dates. You could imagine how he’d learn how to take care of their hair and plait intricate braids when they asked. He would make breakfast for the whole bunch, kiss his wife goodbye before escorting them to the bus stop and taking off for a day of teaching classes. Bucky would be an amazing father.

An amazing husband, too.

“I think ten may be pushing it, Barnes.”

Bucky pictured it, too. A little more modern than maybe the image you conjured up. Teaching was replaced with small missions. The gaggle of kids were smaller, and he wouldn’t have to kiss his wife goodbye. You’d be in the car next to him, headed to the tower for your morning briefings together.

“I’ll settle for nine.”

Benign

If you were to ask any New Yorker what they think the Avengers do on Friday afternoons, they would probably say something like ‘kicking ass!’. None would get even close to what your actual routine looked like.

None would imagine The Winter Soldier lounging in a bathrobe, hair knotted into a bun at the top of his head as his fellow world-saving Avenger spread some green goop over his face. Chinese takeout boxes littered the living room coffee table, his feet were bubbling in warm foot spa.

“To keep your youthful complexion!” You had promised him. He didn’t comment on the obvious sound of your phone’s camera clicking.

He knew he must have looked completely ridiculous. But as you sunk into the couch next to him with identical spa treatments covering you, he couldn’t find it in himself to really care.

He never thought in a million years that he would have the chance of boring, completely benign afternoons. He thought he would be sidelined to violent missions for the rest of his life, to being thawed out like a microwave meal every time he was deemed useful. Sure, he felt a bit ridiculous when you reached over to adjust the slices of cucumber placed over his eyelids, but he also felt so relaxed.

As you settled even closer to him, head tilting to rest on his shoulder, he would happily take the teasing remarks from Sam when you showed him the pictures.

Homecoming

Peter wasn’t crazy about the idea of getting ready for his senior year homecoming dance at the tower. But Aunt May was upstate on vacation with Happy and he still didn’t know how to tie a tie.

“Oh, you look so handsome, Peter!” You gushed as your fingers worked on his tie. Bucky stood to the side, holding MJ’s corsage in a delicate plastic container. Peter had been careful to find the perfect color, with a little guidance from you. The white dahlias matched perfectly with Peter’s light green tie.

“Thanks, Ms. (Y/L/N).”

Peter, ever the polite kid.

“Be safe, kid. Have her home at a reasonable time and no wandering hands.” Bucky handed over the corsage with a supportive slap to Peter’s shoulder. He was quick to promise that he would follow all the rules before making a dash to the door, just as you were about to ask for pictures.

“Don’t wait up!” He called as the elevator dinged behind him.

“They grow up so fast.” You sniffled. “I didn’t even go to my homecoming dances.”

“Why not?”

“Nobody ever asked me.” You shrugged, collecting the other ties Peter had picked from and hanging them carefully over your arm. Tony didn’t have to know that Peter was taking one of his priceless Versace neckties to a homecoming dance.

“To be fair, I would’ve been scared shitless to ask you to a dance.” Bucky followed close behind. “And I fought a war.”

“That’s sweet, Buck.” You brushed him off as you retreated into Tony’s closet.

“No, really.” His hand caught your elbow. “I would’ve been the luckiest guy in town if I had you on my arm.”

You fell asleep that night imagining you and Bucky twirling around a dance hall without a care in the world.

One

Steve’s hand was firm against your shoulder, his tactical glove soaked and dripping with your blood. Your eyes were unfocused, head lulling every so often when the fight to keep it steady just seemed too difficult. Sam was at your other side, cracking jokes to try to keep your attention on him and not of the literal bullet lodged in your shoulder.

You were escorted from the jet in a flurry, doctor’s hands replacing Steve’s. You barely winced when you were administered painkillers and the ache begun to subside. Before you could blink, you were lifted onto a gurney in the medical bay and the clink of the bullet that had been dug from your flesh rang through the room as it clattered into a metal dish.

Bucky ran in just as the doctor finished maneuvering a long roll of gaze around your shoulder, scheduling a time for you to return to have it cleaned and reapplied again.

“What happened?” He brushed past the doctor without a second glance, eyes trained on your figure pressed against the sterile hospital bed. “Steve said-”

“It’s nothing. Steve likes to be dramatic.”

“-that you were shot!”

“Oh, well. Yeah, that happened.” You moved to sit up, your arm immediately giving out under the weight. Bucky moved even closer to help you, hand careful on your back like you were made of glass. “But just the one time.”

“As far as I’m concerned, one is too many.” He watched the gauze turn darker against your skin; your eyes screwed shut in pain as your knuckles turned white against the sheets. “And you’re never going on a mission without me again.”

Freight Car

“You’re free.”

He remembers those worlds so clearly, it’s like him and Ayo are still sat next to that crackling fire in Wakanda. He thought that had been it. He would never again worry about those ten phrases that erased Bucky Barnes and allowed a machine to emerge from his memory.

As he stole glances of you from the corner of his eye, shadowed by his unruly hair, he knew those words still very much existed in his mind.

They weren’t a means to an end, anymore. He didn’t have to grit his teeth and clench his fists to fight them off. They were new, now. He saw each of those words in you and realized just how important they are now they they’ve found a new meaning.

His love for you came easy.

One second, he was looking at his friend. She was looking back at him and he felt safe.

Your fingers brushed over his shoulder, where flesh turned to metal, and you looked away as though you hadn’t just made him fall in love with you with a single touch.

It took three years for Bucky to make a move. Another party, another escape plan to the balcony where you were waiting for him, like always. The last time you had found yourselves in that position, he had been too unsure. Too wary of what it would mean and if it was too soon.

Now, he didn’t care. He just wanted you and to be selfish and not think about consequences when he leaned forward and finally pressed his lips to yours.

You pulled back, but not far.

Something clicked.

Your love for him hit you like a freight car. Swooping in from nowhere but really, you should have felt the rattling of the tracks beneath your feet. You should have seen all the signs that you loved him and he loved you back. In stolen glances and easy afternoons, in hard missions and bloodshed. He was there, and he looked at you like that. Like everything his body had done was to finally make it to you in this moment.

He waited, patient. He had waited this long, what was another few seconds as the realization washed over your features?

“Oh.” Was your clever whisper.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s hands cradled your face, “Took you long enough.”

taglist: @bibliophilewednesday @teti-menchon0604 @thiswasnevermylifefromtony @spid3rgwen @beautyandthebleh @victoriabaker112213 @orthellqs @phasma-trash

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/you #bucky barnes/reader #marvel imagine #tfatws imagine #sab writes

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early2000smovieimagines · 3 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Al Capone

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Let’s pretend that our monochromatic gangster was transferred to the Museum of Natural History after the whole Kahmunrah fiasco for the sake of this story.

- You worked in the restoration department, taking care of all the artifacts in the museum; though you’d always worked during the day. When the new shipment of exhibit material arrived, you were the one unboxing it, which means you were the one to first see the gangster in all his; at the time non living, glory.

- It was a few days after you’d done so that you’d lost track of time and accidentally stayed in your office after closing. Once you’d noticed, you quickly packed everything up and headed towards the actual museum part of the building, in which you found the organized chaos that was a night at the museum.

- The Neanderthals are the first to see you, creating quite the commotion as you hesitate at the entrance of the hall that led to your room. Napoleon is next, greeting you with a “bonjour madame” just as Larry turns and spots you.

- Initially, you were sure that you were dreaming but the the look on Larry’s face when he first saw you told you otherwise.

“Larry! Who’s this?” Teddy asked chipperly though he was ignored as Larry approached you, asking what you were doing “here”.

- You stuttered out a “I was working downstairs ...lost track of time” as your voice trailed off. You stepped into the main room, your eyes moving upstairs where you found hundreds of the exhibits standing, walking and interacting.

- As Larry walked towards you, your eyes finally fell on the monochromatic gangster that was sitting relatively close to you. Your heart raced a bit as he scowled at you; despite his hostile demeanor you couldn’t deny that he was handsome.

- By the end of the night, (and the tour, explanation and a few thank you’s from the more vocal artifacts that you’d worked on) you decided that you’d like to start working nights more often.

- Whenever you did, you made your rounds, getting to know all the exhibits on a more personal level. That being said: you always kept away from Capone, he seemed unsocial and somewhat scared you; especially with the way he strutted around with his men and a scowl on his face.

- Finally, you had no other choice but to come into contact with him. He was on the other side of a hall that had no other way out so you swallowed and continued walking, moving slightly out of his way and meeting his eyes as you passed. You nodded and gave him a “Mr. Capone”, causing him to turn a bit and stare at you as you walked. Oh, he liked you.

- The next night, he approached you himself, well, he’d more so been purposefully standing in your usual route as you went to walk it. He called out a greeting as he leaned against a wall you had to pass and you nearly stumbled out of sheer surprise. Your heart raced as he moved to follow you after you greeted and passed him.

- He drilled you with a few questions, about you and about the museum and so on. You figured he was just trying to get more information on the place or that he was bored so you thought nothing of it. Just before you were forced to excuse yourself, you shyly confessed that he’d always interested you, and though he was used to people finding him interesting, the idea of you finding him interesting left his heart racing. And just like that, you’d excused yourself before he could say anything else.

- A few days later, you’d approached him yourself and he couldn’t have been prouder. You timidly asked if you could ask him a few questions and once you had, you’d gotten the ball rolling. Soon enough, he was rambunctiously and passionately telling you a story as though the two of you were old friends.

- Well, now you’re a part of “the family” whether you like it or not. He doesn’t like someone? He’ll scare them off. He wants you somewhere? You best get walking. He sees you? You join him by his side for the rest of the night. Oftentimes, “the boys” are stationed outside your office while he sits perched on your table, watching what you’re doing or cleaning his gun nearby.

- You’re sort of dating before you’re actually dating. He makes the two of you a thing; especially in other peoples eyes, before you even realize what he’s been doing; though you probably don’t find out about that.

- Your real relationship starts one night as he’s sitting in your office, his chin resting on his clasped hands as he watches you. He asks about your love life, teasing you with some of his comments and the way he moves closer to you as he speaks.

“So you ain’t dating anybody, and you don’t like anybody?” He grins down at you as leans against the table by your side.

“Well ...I do like someone but... it’s a bit complicated.” You say, both hoping he takes the hint yet not wanting him to at the same time. He nods with a small smile, obviously understanding.

“I think it’s worth it to give it a shot doll.” He says and you look down at the table with a small smile before his hands are on your jaw and he’s tilting your face up in a kiss.

- The kiss is heated, his lips crushing against yours, his arms bringing you in as close as he can, squeezing you against him. It’s enough to make you weak in the knees and when he pulls away, you’re almost in a daze.

“How about that shot?” He asks you quietly and you smile up at him.

- And just like that, you’re a slightly out of the ordinary moll.

- He’s incredibly touchy with you; he loves having his hands on you. He may be a tough guy with a harsh reputation but you’re his woman and he’s proud of that.

- His arm around your shoulders or his hand gripping your arm, keeping you close to him. He likes having you right next to him whenever he can.

- Sitting together with his hand on your knee.

- Pecks on the lips, cheeks and forehead/top of the head.

- He likes when you kiss him on the cheek. He doesn’t even care if it messes with his “image”; a proper gangster shows that he loves his girl.

- Rough, breathtaking kisses.

- Loving kisses. He’s a hard man but he’s got a soft spot for you.

- Kissing and tracing his scars.

- Getting picked up and spun around in hugs.

- You usually cuddle while you’re sitting together, oftentimes with you nestled under his arm and against side.

- He’s a pet name fiend; he probably calls you them more than your real name. Baby, doll, honey, angel, babyface, etc; they’re all the most common ones.

- He likes when you fuss over him: cup his face in your hands, flutter around him busily setting things up for him, act all worried when he “gets hurt”. It’s the motherly, housewife attitude that he lives for.

- Straightening out his tie and hat for him; though he almost always seems to look picture perfect.

- Wearing his coat around you. He likes how attracted to him you are when he’s in just his vest with his dress shirt sleeves all rolled up.

- Get ready for the most proud and amused smile to form on his face whenever you “speak his language”. He thinks it’s adorable, hearing you adopt his slang or even just hearing you try to tease him about his accent.

- If you like to think that you were there for the whole Kahmunrah thing, then you should know that he’d be side eyeing everyone suspiciously whenever their eyes fell on you; specifically Kahmunrah since he’d probably show a little interest in you. That may or may not have been the reason that he was eager to get the tablet for himself.

- Sitting in his lap. He’ll hold onto your hip or wrap an arm around you whenever you do.

- Shoulder rubs; both giving and receiving. He’ll stand behind you and knead at the knots of tension, smiling a bit as you lean into his touch.

- He’s a little hard to sneak out of the museum, considering the fact that he’s in monochrome, so you most likely just stick to staying there, unless you can sneak inside alleyways and/or your car when leaving the building.

- Everyday, by the time you arrive at the museum, he’ll already be waiting for you somewhat menacingly in the lobby. It’s less menacing for everyone around you when he brings you into a hug and pecks your lips.

- He may or may not have threatened people; or made offers that people can’t refuse, to go buy him things for you; particularly during special occasions. …Poor Larry.

- Sitting with him as he cleans his gun. Occasionally, he’ll hand it over to you and let you give it a try; or just let you hold it. He thinks it looks funny in your arms.

- Playing card games with each other.

- Swing/slow dancing together; usually when you’re alone. You’ll bring a radio/your phone into work with you and listen to oldies with him sometimes.

- He may or may not be able to consume food but that doesn’t stop him from trying. He’ll set up a whole ass table and candles so that the two of you can have dinner together some nights.

- He likes when you read or just talk to him as he cleans his gun or smokes a cigar or something. Your voice is one of the most soothing things he’s ever heard.

- He does pretty much everything you ask. He thinks your interests are cute and he likes giving his girl all that he can.

- He’s sort of resentful that he didn’t meet you in the good ol’ days when he could really spoil you. Every now and again he’ll say something like “I woulda filled your fingers with diamonds if I knew you back then” and you’ll just reassure him that it would have been unnecessary either way.

- If he was really transferred to the museum then we can assume that there’s a whole 1920′s/Al Capone exhibit set up somewhere so it might be possible for him to have you wear a chain or ring of his; at least when you’re with him. And boy does he like seeing it on you.

- Getting bragged to. He likes telling you about all he’s done and hearing you give him praise.

- Telling him about his future accomplishments and having to break it to him that he was pinched for tax evasion.

- He loves whenever you get all dressed up. Seeing you in a dress and heels makes his heart race.

- You’re one of the few people he genuinely listens to. Larry/ the others are quite thankful.

- Always having bodyguards.

- He definitely has a bit of a temper so you try your best to take care of that and keep him calm.

- He always immediately tries to find out what’s wrong whenever you’re upset. His voice is quiet and gentle but there’s a hint of intimidation and the trembling of anger in his tone. He’ll stand/kneel in front of you or sit beside you and take you by the arms, trying to pull the name of whoever made you feel so bad from your lips. He’s rough around the edges but he certainly cares deeply for you.

- He’s pretty possessive of you. You’re his girl and his girl alone and everybody; including you, should know that.

- Because of his possessiveness, he’ll occasionally try to order you around like he does with his men. You just have to stand your ground and he’ll learn that you won’t be told what to do.

- Jealousy, so much jealousy. He tries to deny that he is, always trying to argue that he just gets a bad vibe from whoever he’s jealous of until he can’t anymore After that, he’ll just exclaim something along the lines of “Well, you’re my girl! I’m allowed to be.”.

- Overprotective. He was a bit of a bad guy himself so he knows how dangerous the world can be; and he’s used to the traditional housewife type of women who can’t really defend themselves. He always runs through a list of things you “have to do” when you’re preparing to leave the museum, and whenever you’re with him he’ll be on the offensive: making threats and quite literally pushing people away from you and/or out of your way.

- There’s going to be quite a few fights in your relationship given his personality. He’s got a bit of a hair trigger temper so he may snap on you every once in a while or just do something that causes a problem.

- Whenever you go to storm off, he’ll give a “hey doll, you know I was only playing.” and/or a “Come on honey, I’m sorry, alright?” but you rarely forgive him until around the next day; or so, when he snakes his way into your good graces with his sweet words and the sneaky, slow weaving of his arms around you.

- A good few “I love you’s”, he does love you and he isn’t ashamed of it, so why wouldn’t he let you know?

- He really wants to marry you but that’s not an easy feat, now is it? Regardless, he’s gonna have you as his woman for as long as he can.

#al capone imagine #al capone headcanons #al capone imagines #al capone headcanon #al capone night at the museum #night at the museum imagine #night at the museum headcanon #night at the museum imagines #night at the museum headcanons #battle at the smithsonian imagine #battle at the smithsonian headcanons #battle at the smithsonian imagines #battle at the smithsonian headcanon

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.7k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

Playing volleyball in Milan is everything Atsumu dreamed of and more - the lights are brighter, the crowds are bigger, there are no distractions, no nagging to ignore, no pending errands to run - nothing to detract from the rush of exhilaration when he executes yet another perfect set. His teammates introduce him to the joy of soaking in the sunset over aperitivo by the Navigli canals, and he develops a liking for cheese and cured meat - prosciutto, salami, bresola, sending pictures of the street markets to Osamu even though he receives no reply.

But it’s not long before the novelty of living alone in a foreign land fades. He’s never been particularly good with languages, so he’s unable to get across the language barrier preventing him from socialising outside of his teammates. So Atsumu finds himself falling back into habits he learnt at home - buying take-out pizza on Friday nights from the pizzeria down the street, ordering extra because the pizza in Milan is thinner, crisper and infinitely less filling. There are no aquariums in Milan, no museums with dinosaur bones, so he measures his steps on cobblestone streets to the park every Sunday to sit on a bench too large for him alone, watching the birds and clouds in the sky.

He tells himself to be content with watching his baby grow through the frame of an eleven inch screen, recording every one of her babbled words and chuckles onto his phone until it runs out of space and has to call Suna for technical support. He becomes a regular at the post office, mailing packages of dolls and nutcrackers, chocolates from his favourite sweetshop and handmade baby dresses from wizened oba-chan he learns to air kiss on both cheeks.

‘Home, Oto-san?’ Shino asks during one of their calls. His voice breaks when he has to tell his baby ‘sorry, darlin’, not yet’. It’s the only time he opens up the webpage to check if he can book a flight back home.

He starts rushing to the locker room right after matches end to avoid seeing his teammates’ faces light up when their families congratulate them with kisses and warm embraces after every match. When his teammates ask about his family (he drives away the thought that they’re asking out of pity), he whips out his phone to show them his favourite picture of Shino, her little face screwed up in confusion when they loaded her back with the giant mochi for her first birthday- ‘such a trooper, didn’t even cry when she fell down’ he tells them proudly. He’s quick to swipe past any photos of her.

He doesn't need the memories, he really doesn’t.

Well - he might not need the memories, but it’s not as if they disappear. He wakes up to find himself on the other side of bed. ‘Sorry, darlin’ he mumbles sleepily (because he knows he tends to invade her space, and she’s likely to kick him bodily off the bed if he doesn’t apologise quickly enough) - before snapping awake with a thin sheen of cold sweat on his forehead remembering he’s five thousand, nine hundred and sixty miles from home.

Not that he’s counting. He really isn’t.

He’s ashamed to admit that he heads to the club that night to pick up someone - anyone to warm his bed, but he’s not sure if it’s the burn of alcohol or the flashing lights (or that prick of something in his chest - it can’t be his conscience, he’s pretty sure only Osamu has that) because his stomach churns whenever pigs with their painted faces and false smiles approach him, and soon gives up, returning to his apartment cold and alone. He’s pretty sure it’s the alcohol because he pukes his guts out in the morning and swears off from ever going to a club again.

“MIYA !’

He only has time for a brief flash of shock between hearing his coach shout his name and feeling the impact of his teammate’s full weight against his shoulder that sends him sprawling across the floor. There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the sickening snap of bone ringing in his ears as he’s lying on the ground.

The sharp burst of pain stabbing his shoulder is enough for him to know what the doctors later confirm - a shattered collarbone. Complete rest for at least eight weeks is prescribed for a full recovery.

‘What were you thinking, Miya?’ his coach asks him exasperatedly when he’s discharged from the hospital.

‘I goofed’, he replies lamely. ‘Sorry, sir’.

It wouldn’t do to tell anyone that for a split second, he was distracted by the sight of a dark haired woman with bright eyes cheering at the top of the stands, a plump toddler balanced on her hip.

It’s close enough to the end of the competition season that his coach figures it’d be better for him to just cut his stay in Milan short and return to Japan early to recover properly. So he lands in the Osaka airport amidst a haze of rain, arm tucked in a sling. The airport staff are kind enough to help him wheel his bags out to the arrivals gate where he’s surprised to find Osamu waiting with a bored expression on his face.

‘I thought ya weren’t talkin’ to me’, Atsumu says.

Osamu snorts, taking hold of his bags. ‘Mum made me come and get ya, since you're useless with that busted collarbone of yours.’ Then he turns on his heel and matter of factly adds as he walks off - ‘Besides, you’ll end up stayin’ with me anyway - it’s not like you have a home of yer own.’

Atsumu opens his mouth to retort but shuts it with a snap.

‘You better hide in the kitchen if ya don’t have the guts to show yer ugly mug around her’, Osamu tells him at half past six in the evening, not even looking up from the tuna and spring onion onigiri he’s forming in his hands.

But Atsumu doesn’t. He tells himself it’s because he can’t bring himself to leave Shino’s side for a second more than he has to, not when he’s still drinking in the sight of her grown so, so big in the span of just a few months. The little girl had been confused at first, when both he and Osamu turned up at the childcare centre to pick her up, but after several minutes of coaxing her to recognise which one of them was Oto-san and Oji-san (the hair colour probably helped) and the bribe of a very elaborate doll (probably the main reason), she’d warmed up to him and refused to let go of his hand.

She pushes open the door to Onigiri Miya with a gentle smile on her face when Shino shrieks ‘Mama!’ at the top of her little lungs and rushes over to her, though it vanishes the instant she notices that it’s not Osamu playing with the little girl. He tries his best to ignore the stab of guilt in his chest when she takes an instinctive step back to yank Shino behind her legs.

‘You’re back’, she finally says, glancing at his arm resting in its sling.

‘Yeah…’ he responds, starting to sweat like he’s standing under the hottest stadium lights. ‘Ya look good’.

‘I know when you’re lying, Atsumu’, she sighs - and if he's being honest, she’s right. To the untrained eye, she looks perfectly put together, dressed in a pencil skirt and heels with her hair neatly tied back, but he knows her too well to be fooled. He can spot the pallor of her skin beneath her makeup, the droop of her shoulders, the downward tilt of her lips. But before he can formulate a response, she grabs Shino’s hand and turns to go, the little girl waving goodbye at him until they’re out of sight.

‘Wow. That was awkward.’ Osamu quips from over the counter. Atsumu can’t even find it in him to respond.

Osamu makes him work at his store in between his sessions of physiotherapy. ‘To keep ya out of trouble’ he says, and Atsumu doesn’t really mind, it still leaves him plenty of time to pick up Shino from childcare every day, and it certainly gives him the excuse to hang around Onigiri Miya when she stops by in the evenings.

He tries to make conversation with her - ‘That’s a new dress you’re wearing’, but is always rebuffed - ‘I bought this old thing years ago’, to Osamu’s endless amusement. She’d always enter the store with a fond smile on her face for Osamu (it makes him want to puke), and would immediately drop it the moment she meets his eyes.

He tells himself it’s normal, she used to be cold and standoffish to him before they started dating, that she’d come around after a while. But even when he tries a different tack (perhaps compliments don’t work on her like they used to before), asking her ‘how’s yer day’, she shoots him a look of distrust that cuts right through his smile - ‘Just tell me what you want, Atsumu. You’ve never bothered asking me that before’.

Osamu actually roars with laughter at that. Traitor.

‘Need help with that?’ Osamu comments after watching Atsumu struggle to reach the exercise tape on his back with his one good hand, stepping in after Atsumu gives a reluctant nod. But he immediately yelps in pain when Osamu decides to abandon all pretense of being gentle and yanks on the exercise tape viciously.

‘Just take off my skin while you're at it, why don't ya’ Atsumu whines. ‘It never used to hurt that much when she would help me after physiotherapy’.

‘She’s always been nicer to ya than ya deserve, fuckin’ scrub’. Osamu retorts, pulling at the remaining tape with increased vigour.

Atsumu bites his tongue through the pain, picking apart his brother’s words before replying - ‘Hey ‘Samu. She’s still really mad with me, isn’t she? D'you think she’ll ever forgive me?’

‘Have ya tried apologising to her, for starters?’

‘What?’ Atsumu asks, bewildered, before yelping - 'Wait - ouch!! What the hell that bloody hurt!?!?!'

‘You know - saying sorry? Owning up to your mistakes? Asking for forgiveness? You abandoned your wife and child for months - but I suppose that concept must be alien to you, shit stain.’

Osamu doesn’t give him a chance to respond, shaking his head as he walks away.

His pride is an ugly, misshapen lump in his throat that's so inflamed it's almost impossible to be swallowed, but he does so anyway, asking her if they can speak for a short while in the alley behind the shop, away from Osamu’s eavesdropping ears. She furrows her brows at his request, but follows him out without complaint.

It’s only when she’s standing before him in the dimly lit alleyway, the dying light of the setting sun reflecting a halo above her head that it hits him like a blow to the back of his head that he’s a fuckin’ idiot - how did he manage to convince himself to blame her for trying to get in his way of chasing his dreams. This is what he missed when he was living alone in his cold studio apartment in Milan - being able to return after trainings and matches to a cosy flat overflowing with her cheeky banter and his baby’s laughter.

Gods, he wants his family. He wants to come home.

But before he can pour out the apology he’d been preparing with Osamu’s help, she interrupts him by slapping a brown envelope into his chest.

‘Look, I’m not sure what you have to say to me, but frankly, I’m not sure we have much to say to each other anymore,’ she tells him impatiently, as he opens the envelope, a tidal surge of dread overwhelming him.

‘What's this’, he says blankly, even though the title on the very first page of the stack of papers trembling in his hands sets it out clearly - Rikon-Todoke. i.e. Divorce papers.

It spells out in clinical, cold words the terms of the proposed separation - dissolution of marriage by mutual consent, no request for alimony or compensation, legal custody to be granted to her with ample visitation rights for him. He would think it fair, if it were to apply to anyone but him.

‘But why?’ he rasps, chest burning from the knife that pierces him right through his heart.

She shifts forward, and the neon lights from the buildings surrounding them melding together to throw her face into sharp focus, her mouth curving upwards into something much harsher than a smile. It’s as if his departure acted as a whetstone, sharpening her edges, shaping her into a woman with hard eyes he can’t recognise.

‘You and both know it’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it Atsumu? You’ve made it quite clear that this marriage isn’t what you want out of life. In any case neither of us have really been happy even before you left, so we might as well be free from each other.’

At this, he shakes his head, parting his lips to object but she continues ruthlessly, her words slicing past his tissue thin excuses.

‘If anything, my time with you has taught me that it's impossible to stop the storm from destroying everything in its path. You can only try your best to outrun it, and this' - ’ she stabs a finger at the stack of papers shaking in his hands - ‘this is my attempt at outrunning you.’

It feels as if his world has somehow shifted, tilted upside down, turned inside out, his assumption that her taking him back would be an inevitable conclusion now disproven by the papers burning in his hands. He knows he’s hurt her beyond measure, but he never thought that his choice to chase what he thought were his dreams would leave him without the ground beneath his feet.

‘You don’t need to do anything else - just sign it and give it back to me soon. I think it’s better for all of us - you, me and Shino, if we divorce formally and lead our own separate lives’, he hears her say, turning to go.

Acting on instinct, his hand shoots out to grab her wrist and she flinches, the steel in her eyes crumbling to leave only frozen terror behind.

I could never hurt you, he wants to say, but doesn't - because he knows it's a lie.

Numbly, he releases his grip, letting his hand drop to his side.

He hears the door close behind him.

Osamu finds him hours later, crouched on the back steps to the shop, papers clenched in his hands. He takes the papers from him and mouths to himself while scanning through it, but there is no spark of surprise in his eyes.

‘Did ya know she planned on divorcing me, ‘Samu?’, Atsumu asks, swiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

‘I had a pretty good guess it was coming’, Osamu replies heavily.

‘Fuck’, Atsumu groans, dropping his head between his legs.

Osamu prods his side with the tip of his shoe. ‘It’s not that I want to kick a guy when he’s down, but she's your wife, not a toy you can toss aside and come back to after a few months, shit for brains. And if I’m being honest, it looks like you’re acting like a brat who only wants his toy back when someone else picks it up’.

Osamu’s response lights a fire in his chest, and he whirls to his feet, grabbing his twin by the front of his apron growling - ‘Whose side are ya on anyway?!’

Osamu looks at him calmly, uncharacteristically refusing to take his bait. ‘Well, it's not as if ya don't deserve it. You walked out on her and Shino for almost a year, Atsumu. I’ve been the one cleaning up yer mess like I’ve been doing my whole life - I’ve been the one picking Shino up from childcare, I had to accompany yer wife to the hospital when yer kid was down with a high fever - d'you still have to ask whose side I’m on?’

‘D'you love her, ‘Samu?’ Atsumu asks after a pause.

The twins stare at each other.

‘I love her like a sister, you asshole. And I hate that it’s my own brother causing her pain.’ Osamu eventually says, pushing him away.

The door slams behind him again.

The dark clouds above him rumble ominously. It starts to pour.

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS | EPILOGUE

💖 story masterlist 💖

This is it. This is the happy ending they deserve. Fluff. Fem!Loki, because we don't get enough of Loki's female form. Some musings about relationships in general, I think. Guys, I'm crying as I'm posting this.

note: I've got two posts of outtakes coming out sometime this week. Snippets that didn't fit in the story but that have the needed vibe, y kno? As well as a new story is coming out soon... Be sure to check out my main masterlist and taglist if you like my writing <3

I want to thank all my readers for this amazing journey. I love all of you, really, like- I haven't figured out how to produce serotonin on my own ever since I hit puberty, and you guys, you are an amazing source for it. I appreciate the time and the patience that it took to read this 120k word thing and I hope you found a little something for yourself in my writing. A comfort, maybe, because everyone deserves to be happy. I love you all 3000.

"You suck," I grumbled in Peter's direction. Luckily, the little shit was out of my immediate eyesight and I couldn't just pelt him with the assorted items that were scattered around me; luckily for him - after enduring hours of non-stop rambling from the spider boy, I was ready to bargain with Stephen for the sorcerer to put a temporary mute ban on Pete. His nervousness was becoming contagious.

"And you swallow," Pietro replied with a snicker as I heard him wrestle with Peter's tie over the pathetic noises of whining and grumbling coming from the younger man.

"I'm lady, ladies don't spit," I rolled my eyes into the skies, catching Loki's appreciative snicker. She - and yes, Loki was in her female form for this event - carefully combed and did my hair, something completely out of this world, all puns intended. I supposed she was feeling generous, because her female form generally made Loki even more moody and unapproachable. But in a hot way. I hope she didn't notice me ogling her like some kind of gallery painting. "You're a goddess, I can't believe you're friends with me," I addressed Loki, watching the careful movements of her slender hands in the mirror.

A small smirk and a dusting of pink over her pale cheeks was what I got, but the silence was so, so loud.

"Stop flirting," Wanda remarked from her spot by the window where she was doing Natasha's make-up with surgical precision. "You already have three boyfriends, leave some for us, Jesus," Her tone was playful.

"Oh my God, like you didn't brainfreeze and run into the fucking wall, forehead-first, when you saw Loki walk in," I scoffed as Loki's blush deepened.

My witchy friend grumbled something rude in Sokovian under her breath but refrained from any more comments, choosing to simp in defiant silence. Well, good for her, because I was about a hundred and five percent sure that Loki was as equally as smitten with her. It's just that neither of them knew how to approach the other. What can I say, idiots in love...

And yes, yes, I can say that because it takes one to know one. My own idiots were somewhere on the upper floors - getting ready in their own rooms, pulling out their brand new suits and ties for the annual Stark gala. It was supposed to be a charity fundraiser but as all of us were quite disillusioned, we knew it was nothing but a pissing contest between people with small PP syndrome. Even Tony himself said so.

Which is why I had assembled all the girls and theys in my room for a mission debrief. My own personal pride wouldn't let me be anything but a star, and to be completely honest, I just wanted to show off my family to the world - even if the delicate parts of our relationship were hidden from the general public, it filled me with immense amount of joy to be surrounded by my very own at their absolute best.

As for Pietro and Peter, they arrived not too long after me, Wanda, Natasha and Loki made camp in the biggest room with the most amount of natural light, surrounded by make-up and other assorted tools. Both boys were bickering but it was obvious that some of the older men had gotten on their nerves, forcing the youngsters seek solace with their peers.

"You know, Vanity Fair better be talking about us for at least a week," I grouched as Wanda helped me into my dress before I returned the favour. "The amount of people I had to actually, physically talk to, to get us these fucking gowns, is frankly disgusting."

"Agreed," Loki admired herself in the mirror, smoothing out invisible creases in her gown. "Although I must say, the dressmakers on Midgard are far more patient and open-minded than on Asgard." Truly, Loki had nearly driven the poor lady crazy. But on the upside, Loki looked like a living doll. Pristine, perfect.

"Our whims are their wages," Natasha piped up with a chuckle.

We stepped out into the main room, taking note of the men scattered on the couches, all of them wearing an almost identical expression of being already done with the formal event - which, I didn't blame them. Having gotten used to the informal, communal-living atmosphere, I wasn't overly keen on being surrounded by random rich douchebags either; as it was unavoidable, I was going to be miserable - but at least I was going to be miserable in style.

Predictably, the menfolk froze and hurried to pelt us with compliments as they surveyed our ensemble - all of our dresses had a distinct vibe despite carrying a sense of individuality to each gown. That was my idea, actually, to present the team as a family - both to satisfy my own need for one and to present a good public image for the press. Call it getting good cookie from the public - in advance.

"Stunning, absolutely beautiful," Tony chastely kissed my cheek, leading my by the arm towards the limo, Stephen and Bruce a pace behind us. "I'm the luckiest man in the world."

"We are," Bruce corrected him mutely. Stephen's smirk was a mile wide. "It'll be hard to keep my hands to myself for four hours but I'll manage," The scientist added, eyes briefly flashing a fluorescent green.

"There are children here," Peter interjected, nervously waving a hand. I gently elbowed Tony, speaking with my eyes rather than words, that Pete was in dire need of emotional support for his first big public event. With a sigh, the engineer relocated to sit next to the spider boy, both of them talking in hushed tones.

"Now, Bruce," I smiled innocently. "Why would I refuse a dance or five to my favourite lab partner in crime?" I winked at him as giggles erupted all around us. "And I'm sure there's a point somewhere about wizards sweeping princesses off their feet," I kept up the banter in hopes that any remaining tension would evaporate before we arrive to the venue.

I, however, couldn't lose all of it for we were absolutely assaulted by the photographers and press as we arrived to the red carpet; it was only sheer luck that me and Wanda didn't stumble ass over heels out of the limo. That luck's name was Loki: her magic delicately helped us to exit the car with grace despite our large gowns. Mental note to buy Loki all the chocolate: add to priority list.

It went about as good as it could. Peter was introduced as a trainee - and nearly had an aneurysm when Tony none-too-kindly corrected the host, calling Peter his protégée and successor. As for little old me? Rising star of biochemical engineering. No titles, no direct titles, but it was heavily implied we were involved.

I could fell the old, white rich men leering at me despite the layers of silk and tulle. Nobody was commenting on my champagne intake so I downed one after the other until I had a comfortable buzz going on. I could absolutely see why female scientists became either reclusive or brash.

Bruce's eyes followed me wherever I went. I had encountered some people I vaguely knew from all the socialite events I had to attend with my mother, so it wasn't as if I was a fish out of the water; it's just that every time I strayed further than ten feet from out group, I instantly grew a tail in the form of one of the Avengers.

"Sam, quit being creepy," I exited the ladies room, immediately spying the handsome man just 'casually' hanging out by a potted plant, glued to his smartphone and pretending to be very busy.

He looked up guiltily, shutting down Minesweeper and pocketing the phone. "Not taking any risks this time 'round, Princess," He offered me his arm, leading us back to our table. "Tony would have my head."

I rolled my eyes, falling into the chair next to Stephen. "My tracker implant is still in and the bracelets Natasha loaned me are actually tasers. Bird, chill," My hand snuck under the tablecloth, blindly groping for Stephen's hand. It didn't take much time for him to respond, cradling my smaller palm in his larger one, offering the small comfort with a tiny tilt to his lips. Both my large skirt and the fabric covering the table aided the secrecy; I felt like a middle schooler sneaking a kiss from my first crush behind the bleachers.

Coupled with the bubbles in my champagne, it made me giddy.

"Sam is just being careful, Princess," Stephen rumbled patiently. "This ball will be over soon."

I snorted, "But Stephen, I love balls," Causing the whole table erupt in bashful snickers.

"Yeah, think to me about it," Wanda downed the remnants of her wine glass, eyes wide, looking to the side. The giggling became a full belly-laugh as I didn't have the decency to play coy. I just smirked because, yeah, I did love me some...

The final hour dragged on forever. My feet hurt from the dancing. I had my suspicions that time would pass faster if I actually move around so I didn't waste the chance and cajoled Bruce into several slow dances with me. The energy between us was electric; I hoped my wife eyes and the red crawling up his neck would be attributed to alcohol. We spoke in hushed tones, about nothing in particular, the words being like sticks we threw into our fire.

Tony wasn't around much, way too busy to do much more than stop by our table every now and then. I both envied and admired him; he handled everything with grace and serendipity. Tony was right there next to Thor and Loki - literal royalty - and I had to pinch myself to prevent myself from ogling him, sighing in lovesickness every goddamn minute.

"If you ever stop looking at him like that, I don't think he'll survive," Stephen's tone was cheeky; his eyes were intense as he looked down at me as we danced. My sorcerer was rarely sappy, but when he found the words to describe his feelings... It was serious.

I met his eyes slowly, letting him soak in the very same admiration and awe I felt when I was with him. I felt his shudder, I heard the hitch in his breath. He wasn't jealous, no, he simply observed. I wanted him to see what I saw. "The day that I stop looking at you all like that is the day that I need to get my head screwed on straight." I wasn't a poet but neither was this a romance novel. "As far as I'm concerned, I won the lottery, the grand prize and the fucking life."

He chuckled. "You have way too much faith in us, Princess," Twirling me as to avoid the out of habit embrace.

Did I, though? I was inclined to disagree. Sure, we had our spits and arguments and sometimes Stephen would stick his cold ass feet under my blankets, Bruce's love for curry was a crime against anyone who slept in the same room as he and Tony routinely flirted with everyone and everything that had a pulse. I had days where my mother's temper surfaced.

Sometimes, one of us would inadvertently hog the other person and the remaining two would pout, roll their eyes or pitch a fit.

I just didn't see it as a big deal. All of those parts were normal - what couldn't be said about the rest of our situation. Compared to couples I've seen around, I thought we're happy. My boyfriends seemed to be happy, too, and if they weren't, it usually was pretty obvious.

So - okay, perhaps we definitely should be working on verbalizing our feelings. That would definitely solve if not world hunger, then at least the world war three that occasionally erupted in Tony's penthouse. And the ups and downs - not the steep kind, but ones not too different from waves rolling ashore - was what held us together. Because, well, our world was hectic and fast-paced and sometimes we needed that gentle rocking motion to sway us back to peace.

Tony's arm on my waist pulled me back to reality, steering me towards the balcony. Bruce and Stephen followed, all four of us power-walking through the inebriated crowd.

"Just so you know, I'm on board with whatever crazy shit you're planning," Stephen raised a palm towards a smirking Tony.

His mouth immediately dropped into a pout I could barely resist kissing. "But... I had a whole speech prepared," The engineer retorted indignantly, discreetly attempting to swat the sorcerer on the ass.

"And I'm sure it was amazing, honey," Bruce placated the upset Tony with a laugh, causing the latter to intensify his pout, eyeing us with mirth over the rim of his glasses, his stupid, lovely face more kissable than ever.

@another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95 @gladiosamicitias @warrior1-19 @toomanyrobins

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x reader #Bruce Banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #Tony Stark x Bruce Banner x Stephen Strange x reader #I'm sobbing 😭#the end #estoy finito #конец блин

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 3 years

Text

One Night - Outcome 3 (Bourne Legacy)

A/N: I am falling into a hole that I may need to crawl out of at some point but I don’t really want to right now so I am going to keep writing for Outcome 3 until I am satisfied. This is a prequel to my other story Just a Dream. :)

Pairing: Outcome 3 x F! Reader

Warning: Getting hit on at a bar but taking care of it. Talk of sexy times, and kisses but mostly romantic.

My Masterlist

You hated clubbing. The entire atmosphere of smoke and music, blinding lights, and the heat from all the bodies packed tighter than a tin of sardines. But it was Missy’s birthday and she wanted to go clubbing. So instead of a comfy sweater on the couch with popcorn and Netflix; you dressed in a skimpy dress in a sea of strangers. Watching your friends get drunker and flirt with several eclectic men and women. You were sporting a buzz nowhere near the rest but enough to let loose and move your hips to the music.

The back of your neck burns like someone is watching, but every time you turn to look, no one was there. The club was dark, and the bass thumped as the bodies swirled together in time with the music. Everyone gyrating and touching so close to one another, the heat in the air stifling, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to your skin.

As the music shifts, you shout to your friends and point to the bar, and they nod, waving as you move over to the lit-up bar along the far wall. It was one of the most popular clubs in town, and the bar was busy, so you wait for a bartender to notice you. A younger man in his early twenties with a towel swung over one shoulder approaches.

“Can I get a gin and tonic?” you shout across to the bartender, and he smiles and nods. Sitting in the chair, you catch your breath and take a moment to look around. All too soon, your view is obstructed by a man in a white crew neck and jeans, the word tool instantly coming to mind. He looks at you like a piece of meat, and his voice is sickly sweet.

“Hey, baby, can I buy you a drink?” The bartender comes by and puts your drink down before you, and you hand him your card.

“No, thank you, as you can see,” you gesture toward your drink before taking a sip, “I already have one.” He smiles and persists further.

“Well then, how about a name? Mine’s Brent, your gonna want to remember that when I make you scream it later tonight.” Wow, this one is bold, you think to yourself and turn in the chair to face him.

“Oh, really now?” He nods enthusiastically, and you take another sip looking at him over the rim of your glass, “You do realize lines like that do not work, right?”

He scoffs and takes a long drink, “If it’s not working, then why are you still sitting here sweet-cheeks?”

“She’s waiting for me,” a deep voice drawls behind you, and you both turn to see a man looking between you and Brent. “I’m sorry I’m late baby,” he puts an arm around your shoulder, and you look at him through narrowed eyes.

You shrug his arm off and look between the two of them. “Do I have a damsel in distress written on my forehead somewhere?” Brent looks taken aback, but the other man smiles slowly. “Listen, I’m not going to sleep with you tonight, or ever. And you, I don’t need you to come and pretend to be my boyfriend to get me out of a shit situation that I shouldn’t even be in, in the first place. But thanks.” You turn back towards the bartender who places a refill in front of you and winks.

Brent shuffles off with a huff, but when you turn, the stranger is still standing there smiling. He sits down on the recently vacated stool and orders a whiskey on the rocks. You turn to him and watch as he takes a long drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His hair is black and filled with curls, some of them falling over his forehead gently. You lick your lips at the way he fills out the navy t-shirt and leather jacket, his broad shoulders filling it wonderfully. He looks over at you, and his eyes are amber like the liquid in the glass he brings to his lips.

“I didn’t mean to treat you like a damsel in distress. You seem more than capable of handling it yourself. Maybe it was just me looking for an excuse to come talk to you.” You let out a little smile and shake your head.

“There is little thing called hello and a handshake that is also perfectly acceptable here on the planet Earth.” He smiles and holds out a hand; you put your hand in his and shiver at the tingles trailing up your arm. “What’s your name?” he whispers, and you tell him your name, but when you ask for his, he surprises you. “Three.”

“Three? Like the number?” He nods, “Is that like a nickname or something like that?”

He smiles in his glass, “Yeah, something like that.”

“Cryptic,” you mutter, and he lets out a booming laugh.

“What do you want to know?” He catches your eyes, and you can’t look away. His eyes draw you in like a drug, and you need your next fix.

The words come out breathier than you intend, and you feel your neck warm instantly as you let out “Everything.”

The two of you lose track of time as you play twenty questions over a couple more drinks in between glasses of water. He somehow answers all your questions, but you learn almost nothing about him. Always skirting around anything too deep and keeping the questions playful like your favorite color or favorite holiday. He is straightforward to talk to, and as the night progresses, you move closer to him, hanging on his every word and watching his lips form the words. The way they move and how much you want him to use those lips for something else.

The song changes to something slower, and the dance-floor clears out a little as people go to refresh their drinks, swarming to the bar. “Do you want to dance?” He asks, and you hesitant for a second before nodding. His hand envelopes your own, warm and calloused as he drags you toward an open space under the flashing lights.

While others might pull your back flush and grind on you, he keeps you facing him, his arms coming to your wrist and bringing your hands up around his neck. Hands trailing down your arms and to your waist as you sway together. The rest of the room disappears as he pulls you close and presses your foreheads together, his eyes baring into your own.

His hands are pressed into your hips, and he controls every movement of your body. You let out a small gasp and close your eyes as his lips gently brush yours. The room disappears until all that was left in him. Three. Nothing more than a number burned into your brain. An enigma like the man before you.

His arms came up to wrap around you as he tilts you back and swings you, and pulling you back up to him. You head like a rag doll hanging from side to side until he cups your cheek and envelops your lips with his. He consumes every single one of your senses. His cologne of sandalwood fils your nose. The whiskey and hint of peppermint on his tongue swirling in your mouth as he licks inside your mouth. Your hands entangle in the curls so soft to the touch they are like velvet running through your fingers.

“I want to make love to you,” he murmurs against your lips and pulls away, breathing heavy and holding you so close like a butterfly about to float away. “One night, that’s all I can give you.”

Your voice is quiet in the loudness of the club, but he hears you when you whisper, “what if I don’t want you to leave? What if one night isn’t enough?”

He sighs and begins pulling you toward your group of friends so you can say goodbye and collect your coat. Your friends eye the handsome stranger with mild interest as they tease you about getting laid, much to your horror. Three reaches a hand for you, and you intertwine your fingers as he pulls you onto his arm and walks out into the cold. Shivering slightly, he throws an arm around you and calls for a cab.

You give the driver your address and take the time to watch the city lights shine past. Three still has your hand tightly held in his own. You reach down with your other and give his thigh a squeeze. His head lays back in the seat and turns to you, smiling before he reaches forward and kisses you softly.

The driver coughs as you get more heated, and you tear yourself away giggling. Three pays, and both of you make your way to your apartment and up the stairs. Hands everywhere and lips following behind. When you enter the apartment, he pushes you back against the wall and kicks the door shut. Turning the passion back up to a hundred and sucking the air from your lungs.

When he breaks for air and places his forehead on your own, you take a moment to think about what you’re doing. “I can’t,” he breathes, “I can’t offer you more than tonight. My job’s not something you want to be involved in. If you want me to leave, tell me now because I don’t know if I can stop.”

You think for a moment before you pull him closer and seal your lips with his and pull away, whispering, “Please don’t leave me.”

Taglist: @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @lunarthoughts @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @amberembers @santiagogarcia

Tagging who might be interested: @itspdameronthings @veuliee2 @softboywriting @helga1031 @be-the-spark-flyboy @marvel-and-mischief

#Outcome 3 x reader #female reader #Outcome 3 #The Bourne Legacy #Oscar Isaac

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romanianseba · 4 years

Text

Pretty Dresses

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, you, and the way you love your dresses throughout the seasons.

Warnings: some angst, mentions of death, major fluff. A very, very smitten Bucky.

Word count: 6.9k

A/N: This is very special for me and I’m so proud of it, loved writing it sooo much. ‘Everybody but them knows they like each other and they don’t even think about the possibility of being liked back’ kinda fic. Enjoy!

—

winter~

Your focus goes from Bucky to the man in front of him. You study the man’s expression, analyze his body language and the speed in which he talks to Bucky through the lens of your weapon. Not a hint of suspicion in his features. What an idiot, you smirk satisfied. Bucky’s very good at this, you think proudly.

“Who’s gonna listen to my ideas from now on? Yep, Tony Stark. You better thank me properly, Anthony.” You whisper to yourself as your eyes flicker from Bucky and the guy to the small classic diner behind them and you’re relieved to see that there’s barely five people inside.

The guy seems to have no suspicion at all up to now but you never know. So you feel thankful to find the place as empty as you wanted it to be. And, as far as you can see from your position, there aren’t any other cars around besides the one your target came in. Good, he came alone. Because you’re here just in case he didn’t.

The guy you’re aiming at is about three inches shorter than Bucky, hair that reaches his ears and slightly built but not even close to match the size of a super soldier. He’s a member –a low range member, you believe, but a member nevertheless– of the criminal gang Tony and Steve had been trying to track down for almost four months. They’ve been trying to find where they hide, following them from a distance but never coming close enough. The gang is credited with about twelve innocent deaths in the past months.

Tony was desperate, until you came up with a not so original plan. Really, you didn’t understand how nobody came up with the undercover concept before.

Although you were elated that your idea was taking the form of a plan, your eyes went wide open with disbelief when Tony suggested Bucky would be the one doing the undercover part.

He would try to infiltrate and pretend to want to be part of a criminal group. Your heart raced. Pretend enough for them to allow him into their places. Your stomach churned.

Do you think he is capable? One hundred percent. Are you still terribly afraid something really bad could happen to him? One hundred and fifty percent.

I’m in. You had said determined when Tony asked who wanted to be covering Bucky’s back in this one. Haven’t done that job in a while. You shrugged when all heads on the table turned towards you, realizing only then how immediately you throw yourself into it. I want him to get comfortable with all members of the team. You should go with him next. You lied to Natasha with a sweet smile when she smirked at you knowingly after that meeting. She didn’t believe a word you said.

The dirty roof of an old, abandoned warehouse is were you lay over your stomach, across from that diner you can’t tear your eyes away from.

You smile when you see a young couple sharing a pink drink over the red table by the window. A woman in her forties sips from her coffee cup on the other side of the counter, newspaper in hand and glasses over her nose. She wears an uniform that matches the diner’s paint inside. You wish for it to stay that way as you keep an eye on Bucky and your aim on the target. You hope you won’t have to shot anybody nearby those shiny windows.

It’s an enchanting diner. You haven’t seen one in ages. It has some old 80’s vibes to it; soft blue, white and red tones, and it seems to be taken care of very well. It’s parking spot is where the team decided the first step of this mission was going to take place.

You had always wanted to own a diner like this one. Yeah, you just remembered now. Own a diner and a much more simple life. But not everything is as easy as you think it is, right? As aunt Marlize used to say. She also happened to be the reason you wanted to own a diner. That woman was the owner of the one you used to go to as a kid -every Sunday at around 11 a.m. for late breakfast of lazy Sundays.

You also remember aunt Marlize complaining about how much she hated it. Evey time I sit down to finally have my lunch because is dead empty around here, someone walks in right away. This job. It’s gonna make me die sooner, she would say. But aunt Marlize would complain just about everything really. There, that’s what made her die sooner, you think as you watch Bucky making his way back to your hiding spot once he is sure the target has left.

Your muscles relax immediately. Bucky is okay. This step was successful. You didn’t have to shot anybody and that diner will remain pretty and peaceful. Letting out a sigh you stay in position, you don’t want surprises, you watch Bucky’s back all the way until he’s by your side; all body parts where they belong.

“Hey,” Bucky lifts his left hand as he climbs the ladder to get to where you are. “You can put it down. It’s me.”

“Yeah,” You chuckle, peeking over the edge. “I’m just watching your back.”

“Thank you, doll. I felt very protected over there.” He says once he is on top and smiles at you, that million dollar smile of his. Lord, he’s beautiful.

“It is my duty to ensure your safety, Sargent.”

He laughs, “You can rest now, loyal guardian.” He swallowed the word wanted to say the most. He wanted to say my loyal guardian. Because Bucky wanted you to be his.

“Here, let me hold that for you.” He reaches and takes the heavy weapon from your hands.

"Let’s get out of here, that rat smell only gets worse every second.” You wince, shaking the dust off the front of your black dress.

Yeah, you’re wearing for this mission. You love dresses. So much. Way too much. Your mother loved dresses, your grandma loved dresses, even aunt Marlize loved dresses. Dresses feel right to you, they feel familiar, they feel like home. Naturally, you wear dresses most of your days. Comfortable, loose, flowy, colorful sundress, but also neutral sundress, dresses with an old vibe to them. It was a strange connection to you mother that you felt through the dresses you wear.

This avenger job, if you can call it a job, a responsibility maybe? It doesn’t allow you to wear them every day but you take advantage of it when you’re able to. Like today.

Today, hopefully, you were not going to fight bad guys. Today you weren’t going to get blood all over. Today your clothes weren’t going to get ripped. Today, oh pretty please, you weren’t going to run towards saving someone’s life. Today you could wear a dress for work. So you did. Of course you did. It stops just above your knee and it blows with the late evening breeze. Dark thick tights underneath because it’s the first week of winter. Combat boots, the only remaining of your official on-duty suit. And Bucky’s jacket. Because he couldn’t decide what to wear for his undercover rol, so he had thrown a bunch of his clothes in the backseat of the car that drove you here and asked you to help him look appropriate. He handed you one of the many jackets he brought when you stepped out of the car and into the chill wind in only the thin three-quarter sleeves of your dress.

“You know, I just remembered,” You tell Bucky, walking by his side as the two of you make your way to the car you were given instructions to leave a couple of miles away.

Guess this’ll have to be your workout for today, the one you avoided this morning because it’s Monday, you told Steve when he looked disapprovingly at you at breakfast.

“I always wanted to own a diner when I was a little kid,” You make a pause, “Hmm, maybe just work in there, I’m not really a boss lady.”

Bucky smiles, and it hurts. Whenever you’re the reason smiling always hurts for Bucky because he can’t control how long it stretches on his cheeks.

“It’d match your style.” He says after a moment.

“My style?”

“Yeah, the way you dress.”

You laugh at that and Bucky frowns.

“What?” His eyes meet yours with amusement and wonder.

Pretty blue eyes hold yours for a second until you shake your head and look away, faint flush painting your cheeks and a small smile lingering in your lips. “Didn’t think you notice.”

Bucky noticed. Yeah he does. He does every day. Bucky notices when you’re wearing a new dress and he knows which one you’ve had since he moved to the compound.

He remembers the dress you were wearing when he met you- and oh, how he wishes you wore it more often. He loves that baby blue dress you wear in the summer. He knows how many floral dress you have, because it’s his favorite imprint on you. It makes him feel lighter, brighter, it makes him remember picking up his mother’s favorite flowers in a spring field, it makes him feel happy.

He knows which one is your favorite because he can talk about all the times you’ve worn it in the last three months. It’s on the days that are the most special for you; the days that you look particularly happy. And if he were to buy you a dress, he knows, Bucky knows you would love it because of how much he has noticed your style. He knows the colors, patters and what lengths you usually go to. Yes, Bucky does notice.

“Why?”

You shrug. “Well, men never notice those things. It’s a miracle when they do once in their whole life. No offense.”

“Not that,” Bucky laughs, the corners of his eyes wrinkle. “Why did you want to work there?”

“Oh! You know, free strawberry milkshakes and fries.” An adorable giggle bubbles from your mouth and you shake your head when Bucky narrows his eyes playfully. “It’s just a cute place in my opinion, Bucky.”

Bucky nods.

“Do you feel like having a strawberry milkshake now?” Closing the driver’s door, Bucky has finally gathered enough courage to ask.

Silence fills the car momentarily and he rushes to believe he has crossed a line until he risks looking your way. A big grin and brighter eyes look back at him from the passenger seat. “Absolutely.”

–

spring~

“You alright, doll?”

You wanted to believe he caught you because it’s you. No, he would do it for anybody. He would. But you wanted to believe he caught you extraordinary fast because he was watching you. No, it’s just the serum running in his veins. The serum had nothing to do with that. He caught you fast because it’s you. He caught you as fast because he was watching you, your every move, since the moment you stepped out of the elevator that brought you here from your bedroom.

The way the skirt of your yellow sundress swayed as you walked. The way you were smiling at your friends, so genuine, no restrictions; your smile was as big as it naturally wanted to be, Bucky noticed, and you weren’t trying to hide it. The way your eyes lit up as they took on everything around you, decorations that Bucky thought matched your being; colorful, simple, beautiful, lighter. A flower. Like those little spring wildflowers covering the grass around the compound. The way you kept coming closer and closer to were this spring party was being held, at the spacious compound’s yard. Closer to were he was, sitting on one of those expensive looking outdoor chairs. The way your eyes stayed a little longer in the chocolate cake in the middle of the room. The way you drank your strawberry drink- which was now stained on your pretty dress. The way you looked like an angel.

Yes, an angel.

“Careful there, darling,” Tony, who was nearby when you stumbled with God knows what, walks past the two of you as Bucky balances you to your feet. “Thank God we have super soldiers around here.” He says over his shoulder, stopping in his tracks when one of his guests abruptly comes to stand right in front of him and starts talking in a smug millionaire voice.

Strange faces with expensive looking clothes and fancy mannerisms. The place is full of people that Bucky doesn’t know. And, judging by the way he has watched him exchanging barely three sentences with every person he comes across, he doubts even Tony Stark himself actually knows any of them.

Bucky didn’t really understand the actual reason or intention behind this outdoor party. He only remembers Tony’s annoying reminders for the team that Friday delivered daily for an entire month and he remembers little of the simple explanation Steve tried to give him while he was busy trying to find you in the crowd before you even arrived down here.

“Thanks, Bucky.” Your embarrassed mumble is almost not even there and Bucky thinks the flush in your cheeks is the prettiest pink he has ever seen.

God, you’re considered to be part of the earth’s mightiest heroes and you almost crashed face first onto the neatly trimmed grass if it weren’t for Bucky’s quick reaction because you were not paying attention to what was in front of you.

“Hey,” He exhales softly. “Like Tony said, thank God I was around.”

You can’t help the grin that reaches your eyes. It made you happy, the way he no longer referred to Tony as Stark, now he calls him Tony. Now he feels more comfortable. It’s been almost three years. The team is no longer a group of strangers for him. He wants to know them. He wants to go out with them and get close. He knows he can trust this people. He has noticed how this people trust him. Now he knows he belongs.

Yes, yes, Bucky. Thank God you’re around.

“I got a little distracted and…” Words die in your tongue as you squint at the hem of his dark grey shirt. “God, it got to your shirt, too. I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

Looking down he spots a faint red stain but he doesn’t care one bit, he’ll remember this moment and how adorable embarrassed you look whenever he wears it.

“It’s fine. It’ll wash off.”

“If it doesn’t, you know where to find me. I’ll take the responsibility.”

He chuckles. “Don’t worry about that, doll.”

“Well, I think I’m gonna need another drink,” You look down to your dress. “And a change of clothes.”

“That’s a good color on you.” It escapes his mouth before he can think it over as he usually does.

And it’s only then, when his deep husky voice falls right over your ear, that you realize how close he is and, looking up, everything you see is baby blue. You smile at him, all teeth and rosy lips and bright eyes that reflect the sun and Bucky swears he’s dreaming.

“You think so?” A sweet, sweet and nervous laugh falls from your lips and it’s angelic; Bucky thinks the sound is angelic.

“Yeah.” He sounds almost out of breath.

And you have to tear your eyes away from him because it feels like you are about to drown in his intense blues.

“I think you would rock yellow, Bucky. I’d love to see that.”

Bucky always hated to wear yellow. Were man even allowed to wear yellow? He doesn’t care. Because now he would stand to wear it, as long as he sees you smile about it the same way you’re smiling at him now. He would wear yellow every day if it meant you were going to smile like that for him.

“Welcome, welcome, everyone! It’s a wonderful afternoon and we’re just getting started…” Your heads turn to where Tony is standing holding a mic when his energetic voice is heard through the entire place.

Bucky groans inside. Just getting started? Been here for about an hour already.

But then you face him again, sweetly smile up at him and suddenly Bucky doesn’t care how much longer he’ll have to stay.

–

summer~

“Where do you get all these cute doll dresses from?”

It comes out unexpected amongst the chaos in the kitchen over breakfast. Unexpected for you. For the whole team bumping against each other, taking turns to make their individuals breakfast. Unexpected for Bucky, the owner of the voice that just made that question. Muttered but clear, loud enough for everyone to hear. Did he intend to say that out loud? Was it just a casual thought that escaped his grasp way too fast? It was debatable; for you, for Bucky, for everyone now exchanging discreet knowing looks and badly hidden half smiles across the kitchen.

It is questionable in Bucky’s mind whether he had wanted to say that out loud. But he is positively aware about the one unquestionable truth; the connection between mind, thought filter and speaking was inexistent when you are near him.

And you are. Delicately setting pieces of your sandwich together right beside him at the adjacent side of the counter. You are pretty close to him and he can’t help his thoughts about you ever, but especially when you are this close.

Damn Sunday mornings when everybody feels like spending a ridiculous amount of time and effort making breakfast, gathering all enormous shoulders and muscle in the relatively spacious kitchen -but enormous shoulders and muscle-, all at the same time, ridiculously early for a Sunday morning because everyone in this house seems to have a permanent hen-like biological clock.

Bucky’s cheeks turn pink the moment you lay your eyes on him; eyebrows high, wide eyes, mind processing what you just heard, mouth open but nothing comes out, cheeks equally flushed because damnit if you’re not internally struggling to chill. Was that a compliment? From Bucky? Bucky? Buc-

“Uh, I-” You swallow, lick your lips nervously, “Do you-” Inhaling to regain some sort of maturity. Dang it, how old am I? “Do you like my dresses,” It’s more of a statement than a question.

Bucky shifts awkwardly on the counter stool, “Yeah, I-” Clears his throat, looks down at the oatmeal bowl in front of him.

“Do you think they’re cute?” A smile starts forming on your lips when his eyes lift to yours again.

Sam groans from the stove, dramatically rolling his eyes, “You idiots, stop acting like you’re not in lov- ouch!” He whines when Wanda pinches his bicep.

“Not your business,” She hisses.

“It’s so obvious, are they blind-”

“Shut up,” Natasha demands with a grin, washing her vegetables in the sink while Sam glares at the back of her head.

It doesn’t matter because whatever everyone else is doing or saying is muffled in the back of your lovesick minds.

The smile tugging on Bucky’s lips eventually matches the size of yours as he answers, “I mean… yeah. They look good on you. And you have your own style, that’s… pretty cool actually.”

He shrugs slightly. As if he weren’t affected by it everyday, as if he didn’t love it so much.

“Well I-,” You go back to your unfinished sandwich with shaky hands because he’s doing that thing again when he stares like you’re the only person in the room. Like you are an exotic discovery that must be put under scrutinized inspection. And you can’t breathe properly when he does. “I buy them online, or-”

“Wow, really?”

You laugh at his amazed tone. “Yeah.”

“How do you know they’ll fit?”

“It’s a process, Bucky. But it’s fun! I also go out there to see what I can find. And I’ve made some of them myself.”

“Are you for real?” He sounds amazed. It’s adorable. Absolutely astonished.

“I can teach you,” You laugh playfully.

He laughs along, “That’ll be fun.”

“For real, I will teach you.”

“Doll, I’m in.” Bucky beams as he watches you place thin sliced tomato over lettuce. “You like them so much, don’t you?”

“Dresses?” You catch his nod by the corner of you eye. “I do a lot.”

“Why?” He asks with nothing but curiosity and you smile bigger.

“It’s a special connection with my mother. She’s not here anymore but that’s how it feels when I wear them.”

When your eyes find his again, Bucky notices the light in your eyes is brighter and his heart goes fast. He can see right through them; the sincerity and how much you mean what you said. And God, do they shine so beautiful.

“That’s amazing, doll.” He whispers with genuine interest.

You stare dumbly at each other for a moment until you look back down shyly, flushed cheeks, timid smile; Bucky looks down at the same time, clears his throat again as if stepping out of a trance and hides his equally timid smile with a spoon full of oats and berries.

After a minute, you speak again, “Also, it’s so easy to put one on, and you don’t really have to think about combinations. You’re done when you throw a dress over your head,” You chuckle, “So, emotional value but also practicality. And comfiness, let’s never forget you can move around with liberty.”

And Bucky doesn’t care how crowded the kitchen is on Sunday mornings, or the overwhelming smell of all sorts of different dishes when you beam at him warmly, like the sun outside.

It’s one of those days. All he wanted was to stay home. There are various steps of progress, just as there are steps back. Trauma isn’t something you can move on from easily. It takes years. If it actually even comes to an end before death reaches for you first. Sentiments of unworthiness plagued him once in a while. Not as often as it used to, but they’re there. Days like today. Mentally and physically exhausting missions adding to it all this time around. One after another during the last two weeks.

Bucky’s eyes squint with the summer sun as watches everyone from afar. People he wants to get to know better when it’s not a day like today. He hears the laughs, the bantering, but his eyes keep coming back to you. Sunlight hitting your face gives you rosy cheeks, wide smile matching the light of that infinite light, half of your hair tied up messily, the sound of your sweet laugh as you chat with Wanda standing on wet sand, water covering your feet when a new wave crashes against the seashore. Bucky thinks you’re as bright as the sun, small embroidered flowers covering the white dress that stops bellow your knees, a walking ray of sunshine.

You look pure and innocent and so, so sweet. Sweet, like the coconut water you were drinking a few minutes ago. And he finds himself wondering how someone so sweet can be so lethal when required. His minds travels for a second to your sparring sessions with Steve, the confidence and strength you show on missions.

“Man, you have to stop just looking at her,” Sam leans down beside him to bury his beer in the sand. “You’re wasting time over here.”

It provided reassurance for Bucky. Words he didn’t know he desperately needed to hear. Some sort of confirmation outside his mind that he is allowed to fall in love and receive that kind of love back at this point in his life. It’s possible, it’s still wanted, it’s needed and deserved. It is not too late.

His heart aches when he thinks about how he’s been a little distant with you since that Sunday breakfast conversation you both had a week ago. You’ve noticed the exhaustion in his eyes, deciding it was good to give him some time and space; unaware of the actual reason behind his exhaustion. Forget about tough missions. Undeserving thoughts plague him specially right after getting a bit closer to you. His heart flutters and he believes and he hopes. And then, he’s not good enough, and you’re too good for him.

Giving Bucky one last glance and a smirk, Sam runs to join the rest, splashing salty water all over Wanda when he gives it a hard kick with his foot.

Pushing away wet hair sticking over her face, Wanda stands still, staring down in disbelief as your hands rush up to cover your mouth, attempting to suppress your laughter.

Still from a distance, watching everything with a grin on his face, Bucky leans down to bury his own beer right when the beach chair next to him lights up in a reddish tone, floats on its own and goes flying in the blink on an eye towards Sam, who crouches down with his arms tightly wrapped over his head just in time for the manipulated chair to fly over him and land on the water. Bucky’s eyes go wide, seeing nonliving stuff floating around by control of Wanda’s hands always takes him by surprise.

“Guys, can you stop acting like first graders?” Tony shouts from further away, his head being the only part of his body visible outside the water. Natasha floating peacefully on her back behind him.

The chair crashes against Sam’s side repeatedly when Wanda makes it slide over the surface pulling an exaggerated groan out of its victim. “Hey! Okay, I’m sorry! Wan!”

Shaking your head at such displays of affection of your friends for one another, you turn around, smiling indeed as bright as the sun when your eyes find Bucky’s and waving hello from afar. His mouth mirrors yours as he waves back. Eyes stay connected while both of your overthinking minds debate whether it’s a good idea to approach the other or not.

You win first against yours. Heart drums at a fast speed inside his chest when you approach him slowly, your white dress creating moving shadows on the sand.

“Come, Bucky,” You say sweetly when you reach him, leaning down to grab his hand in yours. “The water is so nice.” You add, tugging at it for him to stand up. “Wanda won’t throw things your way as long as you don’t bother her.”

A sweet laugh falls from your lips as you hold his hand all the way back to the seashore. Not letting go even after fresh water crashes against Bucky’s feet and goes up his ankles.

“Close your eyes, Bucky. Feel everything that is around you.” You whisper next to him. Hands still clasped together.

Feel everything that is around you

Eyes closed, he does what he’s told; the weight of your hand around his, fine sand under his bare feet, refreshing water covering his feet, sunlight touching his heated skin, sea breeze ruffling loose strands of hair that fell from his bun, an entire awe-inspiring ocean in front of him. And Bucky only feels you.

autumn~

Ice cream cones, dogs, pineapples and stars imprints. The dresses you wear started to get very peculiar by the end of the summer and through the few first weeks of autumn.

It’s like a door was opened and I have new endless possibilities before me. You said enthusiastically one time Sam asked about your current dress situation.

Until you stopped wearing them.

Bucky is aware you don’t wear dresses every single day of your life. There’s this particular week every month that it’s actually not that comfortable, nor convenient to wear a dress, Bucky. You had told him with a tender smile dancing on your lips at his curiosity when he –pre- rehearsed, pre-meditated and over-considered– had asked you casually why you weren’t wearing any dresses during a certain week a few months ago. And with flushed cheeks, once Natasha had illuminated him with what you meant by that, Bucky nodded. And he got it. He understands.

The thing is, you haven’t in four weeks. Three of which were spent at the compound. Three weeks at home, one week on a mission overseas. Three weeks off duty and you haven’t worn a dress. For three weeks. At home. Where you’re free to wear them anytime you want.

“No, Bucky. It doesn’t. For the hundredth time, it doesn’t last three weeks.” Natasha groaned during breakfast today when he asked her again if your time of the month could last that long.

Over and over again, for all the time you’ve been acting weird, Bucky has been going to her with the same question; ~but what if… ~Nat, you sure there’s not a chance… ~would Wanda know better… -to which Natasha had sent him daggers in the form of a glare- ~why would it be three weeks? ~is she okay? ~haven’t you talk to her? ~but why…

Because not only were you not dressing the way you loved, you had also lost that optimistic attitude and that joyful behavior that lights up every room. And lastly, Bucky noticed sadly, the light in your eyes was gone.

“She’s acting the same way, are you really that sure?” He pushed desperately that morning, absently moving the cereal inside the bowl in front of him. “Looks like the same symptoms, only so much worse.”

Natasha sighed in defeat, talking slowly, “She’s going through a hard time right now. And I’m only telling you this because I hope so profoundly that you will stop asking the same question every single day. Bucky, I appreciate you a lot, but you are driving me crazy. It is not my place to tell you how she feels right know. Only she decides what she wants to share with each one of us, I’m not taking that away from her. I know it’s not easy for her right now and that’s all I’m gonna give you. And no, it’s not because of that time of the month so please stop it.” She begged exasperated.

Looking into his uneasy blue eyes, her expression softened.

“Look, I know she trusts you and she feels comfortable around you. Why don’t you just ask her what’s going on?” She had encouraged him with tender eyes. “She’ll have a better answer to how she’s feeling than I ever will.” Sending a wink his way, the redhead jumped off the stool beside him, dropped a dirty bowl by the sink and walked out the kitchen door.

And that’s what he does. At least, in a way. In his way.

Leaving out a shaky breath, Bucky stares at your closed door, sweaty hands holding the envelope tightly.

He decided wrapping a gift rather than throwing it into a gift bag or a box would give more intention and meaning to it.

It turned out neatly done, a brown-ish ribbon going around and tied on top. Wanda helped when she found him cursing the red tutorial app on the screen of his phone, balls of ruined gift wrap on the floor all around him. I think she’ll love it. She had said. You don’t know who this is for. Bucky replied. Right… I don’t, right? She smirked knowingly.

Looking down at the note he wrote attached to the ribbon, Bucky sighs one more time and places the envelope gently on the floor in front of your door.

I hope the reason you don’t wear them anymore is because you ran out of them; and not because you’ve grown tired of them.

Bucky.

This was Bucky’s way. A silent reminder that he cares about you.

Questions like how are you feeling? can I do something for you? do you want to talk about it?, those didn’t really worked for him. When he was new into this word, those questions didn’t help. He needed space and time, not a constant reminder that something was wrong with him.

And so he was grateful every time you would do something for him, no words spoken. Just little actions that showed him you were there, and that you cared and appreciated him being around.

No pity. Not being sensitive around him. Actions that showed him you were not afraid. Pouring a cup of coffee for him in the mornings. Making space for him on the couch without looking. Normal. He felt normal when you did things like that. Like he didn’t need to be treated a special way. Eyes weren’t on him the whole time to see his every move when you were the only one in a room with him.

Bucky didn’t want to come up to you with those questions. He didn’t want to make you feel like you had to share something with him when you weren’t ready. A dress is what he bought for you. A silent reminder; I’m here for you. I notice, and I care.

It takes you some time to find him, but you finally spot him by the tall bare trees around the compound. Hundreds of dry, colorful, autumn leaves covering the ground, creaking under your feet. And, if you weren’t in such state of mind, you would be laughing and throwing handfuls of fallen leaves into the air. Autumn is such a wonderful time of the year.

His back is to you and his hair looks messy, and curly, and so soft; makes you want to get your hands on it.

“Bucky.”

“Hey, doll.”

Bucky takes you in when he turns around. Dress or not, you’re beautiful. Sweatpants, an oversized shirt. Always beautiful.

“Hi.”

He smiles fondly, “Hi.”

“Thank you. For the…” Your lip trembles and Bucky isn’t sure, but he thinks he sees your eyes get watery before you bolt forward, surprising him when you wrap your arms around him tightly. “Thanks, Bucky,” Your voice is muffled against his hoodie. “It means a lot to me.”

He exhales, his smile grows, his heart drums happily. Unsure of how much he should hold you, his arms go around your shoulders lightly, even when his whole body wants to hold you so close until it is impossible to know whether there are two bodies or just one.

“I thought it would cheer you up,” He whispers, his breath tickling your scalp at the top of your head. “I don’t know what you’re going through. It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it. But I’m here. If you need me. I’ll do anything for you.” He speaks slowly as his flesh fingers squeeze your shoulder gently and you pull away with a smile; though, he notices, it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“I know you would.” And he knows you’re being sincere when you hold his gaze.

Taking a deep breath, you walk past him. Facing him again after a minute when you lean your back against a big tree catching a yellow leaf as it falls, twisting its little stem between your fingers. He watches you cautiously.

“Remember when I told you about what dresses mean to me?”

Bucky blinks and then nods, smiling. “I do. It makes you remember your mother.”

“Yeah,” Your voice cracks a little and his smile falls. “My whole family actually. Dad always loved them,” Your eyes are on his shoes as your continue. “He loved seeing mamma, me and my little sisters wear them.” Bucky watches one side of your mouth slightly twitching upwards. “It was tree years ago… when I lost them all.”

You finally look up and Bucky sees tears pooling your eyes.

“I guess I had deprived the grief before because I was always busy and we never stopped working after what happened,” Your voice is totally trembling now and tears are falling free down your cheeks. “I pushed it aside for so long, and I’m truly just now processing everything, and my younger sister,” You choke a little and Bucky clenches his fists because he wants to hold you so tight and wipe the hurt away. “Little Lyla, she would- would have turned four two weeks ago and it’s just so much, Bucky. She was- she was just a baby.”

Both of your hands cover your mouth as you sob, full of years and shaking violently. And Bucky can’t take it anymore, he strides towards you hastily and cages you in his arms. Tight.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry,” His metal hand cradles your head against his chest and there are tears in his own eyes as he mumbles against the top of your head, “So sorry, baby.”

He has heard about what happened with your parents, in the New York attack; but he never knew you had little sisters.

“I’ve protected so many people and I couldn’t keep them safe. The most- the most important for me.” Your fingers grip the fabric on his back.

“No, doll. No,” Bucky closes his eyes, jaw clenched, tears covering his cheeks, pained to the core. “It was not your fault, not your fault.”

He wants to shatter the guild and grief that you’re feeling and protect you from it forever.

“My parents would have been twenty five years of being married yesterday and it was mom’s biggest dream to celebrate it, she would talk about it all the time and I don’t know what to do, Bucky.” You sob against him, letting everything out.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” His fingers stroke your hair soothingly.

And he just hold you for a moment and you let him; you need it. More leaves slowly falling all around you. It would be magical and romantic in different circumstances.

“Sorry.” You cry, throat dry and it hurts and Bucky’s heart falls in pieces.

How someone so sweet can be so broken.

“Hey,” He says softly. “No, you don’t have to apologize about anything.”

“I was so distant…”

“It’s okay, doll. It’s okay.”

“That’s why I didn’t- I couldn’t wear anything that remind me… I would see them all if I- if I put a dress on I would see my family,” You sob. “I miss them a lot.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry,” He whispers. “I’m sorry if I made you remember. I didn’t know.”

“No, Bucky,” You shake your head firmly. “I love it. Thank you. Thank you so much. It made me feel so much better. I love it.”

Bucky holds you some more, until you’re not shaking and your breath is almost even.

“I want to try it on,” Your voice is raspy. Pulling away, the back of your hands go up to sweep against your cheeks. “I want you to see it first.” A small smile graces your tear stained face as you look up at him shyly.

“Okay.”

His hand outstretches to you and you take it without a second thought, letting him lead the way back to the compound.

Anticipation running hot in his veins, and he feels the excitement in his belly when he waits patiently outside your bedroom door. Bottom lip trapped between his teeth because all he can think about is how you’ll look with that dress and he’s grinning so hard.

The enhanced ear catches every little shuffle inside and he arranges his hair and straightens his posture when he catches the soft paddle of your feet approaching the door. And the air is kicked out of his lungs as soon as you open it and he takes you in.

“What do you think?”

“I think it was made just for you.”

“I really love it. It’s my favorite now. Just wanted to let you know I’m gonna wear it a lot.”

Bucky chuckles; smiling so big because the scene in front of him is so much better than image he had in mind. “Can’t wait.”

“It’s the best thing I have ever been given,” You look down, running your hands over the soft fabric of the beautiful green dress. “Thank you again, Bucky.”

“I’m glad you still like them, you know,” He shrugs.

“Of course.”

And, taking a leap of faith –and courage–, Bucky steps closer. One step. Then, another one, slower and more hesitant than the first. Your breath hitches when your shoes touch the tip of his, and you find his eyes when his left hand touches your cheek. The cold metal a welcoming temperature to your flushed skin.

“You look beautiful,” Thumb gently strokes under your eye, “And– you’re so strong. I’m proud of you,” His voice is so gentle, his eyes even more, they hold so much sincerity and tenderness, looking at them makes your heart believe what others have told you. “You’ve made it this far. So many would have given up long ago. I’m so proud.”

Bucky doesn’t miss the way your eyes lit up the longer he holds you. Eyes that compete with the stars look up at him; hopeful, bright, wanting. And Bucky jumps, the leap of faith, erases the distance that keeps you two apart. Tender lips pressed to yours, soft and lovely.

He met you wearing a dress. He fell for you wearing a dress. He hold your hand first time when you wearing a dress. Kissed you for the first time when you were wearing a dress. Loved you wearing a dress. Made love to you for the first time, a floral dress rucked up around your waist. He wanted to marry you, and you would be wearing a dress. Bucky wanted to grow old watching you wear pretty dresses for the rest of his life.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x reader oneshot #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #fluffy oneshot #one shot #fluff

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tabloidtoc · 3 years

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National Enquirer, April 5

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Meghan Markle's secret psych analysis

Page 2: Heather Locklear has put on a lot of weight since she got out of rehab last fall -- she looks to be carrying 170 pounds on her five-foot-five frame and she looks to have gained 35 pounds

Page 3: Miranda Lambert has taken another swipe at ex Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani by dissing their upcoming nuptials -- Miranda has been urging mutual friends to skip the wedding and she's got everyone in Nashville and beyond all riled up and either you're Team Miranda or you're Team Blake, and if you're with him you can forget about being friends with her and she's forcing people to choose sides and she'll have no qualms cutting off anyone who attends Blake's wedding

Page 4: Alex Rodriguez struck out with fiancee Jennifer Lopez after she discovered his hot-and-heavy direct messages to a long string of women -- their four-year romance went foul after Southern Charm's Madison LeCroy publicly admitted she'd been in touch with A-Rod and Jennifer found out he'd reached out to other beauties through social media and Jennifer had had enough

* Concerned mom Jennifer Garner is struggling to cement her relationship with daughter Violet now that the 15-year-old is barreling through the turbulent teens -- Jennifer said the heartbreak is just that she's growing up at all and it's heartbreaking for the mom and for the teenager, needing to have that kind of severing of this baby-mama tie

Page 5: Chris Brown's spacey social media posts about aliens have close pals concerned about the R&B crooner, including his once-battered ex Rihanna -- Chris is obsessed with conspiracy theories and all things supernatural

Page 6: Disgraced Felicity Huffman is fuming about scuffling for plum parts while rumors swirl fellow felon Lori Loughlin has already been invited back into her old TV series and Felicity can't understand why she is being forced to go through the whole audition process while Lori seems to be welcomed back with open arms -- though she hates to do it, Felicity feels the only way she can get attention is to do a tell-all interview about her humiliating part in the scandal -- Felicity has scored a part in the ABC pilot Sacramento River Cats, though there is no guarantee the project will make it onto the air, but insiders and fans of the hit Hallmark series When Calls the Heart have all been filling the internet with talk of Lori's rumored return -- Felicity believes the only way to get public sympathy is to spill her guts, even though all she wants is put the scandal far behind her

Page 8: Stressed Tonight Show host Jimmy Fallon has been packing on the pounds as his talk show continues to battle with Stephen Colbert's Late Show and Jimmy Kimmel Live in the late-night ratings and Jimmy has been partying and pigging out to find any comfort he can as Tonight continues to trail the field in total viewers and Jimmy is over 200 pounds for the first time in his life and it's because he's overindulging to compensate for the show's struggles and Jimmy and the gym do not mix even though he had a full fitness center installed at his New York apartment years ago

* Debilitated diva Liza Minnelli's 75th birthday party turned into a disaster when her frail physical condition alarmed friends -- celebrity pals also joined a virtual bash for the legend, even though Liza insisted she didn't want a big fuss and Liza's manager threw the small dinner party on her birthday and about eight people, including Joan Collins, attended in person and several other friends, including Barbra Streisand, recorded video messages and performances for Liza but before the party, Liza was in such bad shape she told friends that she didn't want to participate or be seen on camera -- in the end, Liza, who's undergone multiple surgeries and struggled with substance abuse for years, agreed to join the gathering at the L.A. home of her longtime protege Michael Feinstein and Liza sang but she didn't look well and her voice is shot to pieces and she was propped up in a chair and barely moved from it because she can't walk well anymore and during a live chat during the party the hashtag #FreeLiza started to pop up and not everyone meant it as a joke and there's a feeling certain people have taken over her life and longtime friends have been frozen out and they fear she'll never appear in public again and they won't see her again before she dies -- when friends saw the videos the next day they were upset and very worried, saying Liza really appears to have declined

Page 9: Angelina Jolie has fired a shocking new salvo against ex Brad Pitt over custody of their five youngest children and her latest court documents allege domestic violence and even worse, some of the nearly dozen papers Angie just filed offer up a few of the kids to testify against their dad and Angie is now claiming she can offer proof and authority of domestic violence but Brad's lawyers are expected to respond with a vehement denial -- with the newest court filings, all of which are sealed, Angie is determined to get full custody of the kids and Angelina has fought tooth and nail to get what she wants in this divorce and when it comes to her kids she won't back down

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Farrah Abraham in a bikini, 50 Cent chased away his thirst with a drink at an Atlanta eatery, Natasha Lyonne of Russian Doll was on her game while playing chess on the NYC set, Selma Blair met up with a pal in Studio City, Reggie Bush showed he's still in fine form during a Mexican vacay

Page 11: Gwyneth Paltrow isn't above using a little goop to smooth out the age lines -- the lifestyle guru recently admitted to resorting to a teeny drop of Xeomin, which claims to be a uniquely purified choice for frown lines, to help her look less pissed off but she also admitted her history with fillers hasn't always been happy and she had a midlife crisis when she turned 40 and she went to see this doctor and it was a disaster and she was bruised and her forehead was completely frozen and she didn't look like herself at all -- she also admitted she believes there is still a lot of shame around surgery or injectables or fillers and it's like admitting a vulnerability -- she said she thinks aging is hard and when you see your face start to change, you don't necessarily feel your most beautiful, externally, but the irony is it's that time in your life when you actually really like yourself and love yourself

* Wendy Williams' handpicked hunk Mike Esterman has better buckle up because the daytime diva has already mapped out their future, and he's in for a wild ride -- Wendy boasted she chose her Maryland-based beau after receiving hundreds of submissions to her Date Wendy segment, but she's aiming to renovate the contractor and it's all about image, stylists and bodyguards for Wendy right now and she's already got a reality show in the works for them, a TV crew and photographers trailing them everywhere and his-and-her makeovers too -- she's gone from zero to 60 with this guy in a matter of days

Page 12: Straight Shuter gossip column -- Miley Cyrus is going country after her last two albums tanked -- Miley offended her core audience with her outrageous behavior and punk sound and she's signed with a new record label and the plan is to reintroduce her to the country audience that loved her dad, Billy Ray Cyrus, and once loved her -- Miley's behavior has overshadowed her talent for years and her new team will guide Miley back to her roots in the world of country and finding the right sound should be easy but can Miley find the right behavior

* Gayle King owes her glow on CBS This Morning to a new makeup artist and after being tended to by a fill-in makeup artist and told she looked better than ever, Gayle quietly dismissed her longtime makeup man but there's an unspoken code of ethics in the pro makeup world that if you're asked to replace a longtime client's makeup person, the appropriate answer is no

* The Sex and the City reboot isn't all cosmos and roses -- Sarah Jessica Parker was the show's executive producer, giving her much more power than her co-stars, but Cynthia Nixon and Kristin Davis will also executive produce the reboot and there's already tension -- sharing power is hard for anyone who's been the boss for years and it isn't one big happy family

* Rachel Brosnahan gets some puppy love on the set of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (picture)

Page 13: The knives are out for self-appointed queen bee of The Talk Sharon Osbourne after she was exposed as TV's meanest host -- the salty motormouth has been accused of a barrage of racist and anti-gay zingers, forcing the gabfest to go on hiatus while CBS investigates the claims -- former host Leah Remini claimed Sharon would frequently refer to then-co-host Julie Chen, who is Chinese American, as 'wonton' and 'slanty eyes' and Sharon also reportedly referred to her out lesbian co-host Sara Gilbert as 'p--sy licker' and 'fish eater' -- in a tweet, Holly Robinson Peete implied Sharon's racist comments led to her leaving the show -- Sharon also chased Marie Osmond on the show last fall and tried to take it over after Julie Chen quit in 2018 -- Sharon has denied all claims against her -- Sharon's big personality is central to The Talk, but some of these allegations, although none have yet been proven, are the kind of remarks that could be career-ending

Page 14: Crime

Page 16: Demi Lovato's shocking admission that she continues to puff pot and swill booze after multiple rehab stints and a near-fatal drug overdose has pals and addiction experts convinced the singer is courting disaster -- she dropped the bombshell in a recent interview and claimed indulging in those vices has helped her fend off more serious addictions and the chronic depression that has dogged her entire life -- Demi came very close to dying three years ago after she overdosed on opioids and it triggered three stokes and a heart attack, and a lot of people were terrified she would never recover and her friends are convinced she's put herself right back on the same self-destructive path -- Demi claimed she was sexually assaulted by her dealer on the day of her almost-fatal OD and when her assistant found her unconscious and surrounded by vomit following the wild binge, she was naked and she was blue and she was left for dead and she had unknowingly taken heroin that was laced with the powerful drug fentanyl

Page 17: Devastated Lisa Marie Presley is finding comfort in the arms of her first husband, Danny Keough, after their son Benjamin Keough's suicide -- Danny has given her a shoulder to cry on and he's the only one who can understand the despair she feels after losing Benjamin -- Lisa Marie has been inconsolable since Benjamin died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound and she's moved in with Danny in Woodland Hills, California and she's also struggled with substance abuse and the stress of an ongoing divorce battle from fourth husband Michael Lockwood -- although her marriage to Danny ended in 1994, he's remained close to the family, working as a driver and handyman for their actress daughter, Riley Keough and Riley couldn't be happier that her dad has been so helpful to her mother and it's taking a full team to keep Lisa Marie together and Danny was definitely proven he's still on her team

* The sudden death of Bobby Brown Jr. remains shrouded in mystery as the 28-year-old's autopsy report was placed on a security hold following a request from the LAPD -- the namesake son of Bobby Brown and his ex-girlfriend Kim Ward lived with his famous father in Encino, California, where the singer found him responsive -- Bobby Jr. has been doing drugs with pals and insiders suspected he was deliberately dosed with a fatal cocktail of booze, cocaine and painkillers

Page 18: American Life

Page 19: Tina Turner is using a new documentary about her life as a final farewell to fans after the R&B icon was rocked by a string of physical and mental health woes including the crippling effects of a 2013 stroke -- the eye-opening documentary Tina is a love letter to her millions of supporters and the punctuation mark to a life defined by startling professional success and heartbreaking personal catastrophes -- Tina admitted she's had an abusive life but at a certain stage forgiveness takes over -- in the documentary Tina confessed she suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder and has frightening flashbacks of being savagely beaten throughout her hellish 16-year marriage to the late Ike Turner and Tina's current husband, German music producer Erwin Bach, even compared his spouse to a shell-shocked soldier -- more recently, Tina has been battered by health crises after suffering a stroke in 2013 and being diagnosed with intestinal cancer three years later, mere months before her kidneys failed and Erwin donated one of his own to save her life -- Tina knows the end is near and this film is truly her last encore

Page 20: Match Game -- a round up of male and female celebs who look astonishingly similar, despite their opposite genders -- Sophie Turner and Boy George, Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber, Timothee Chalamet and Natalia Dyer, Tom Cruise and Tig Notaro

Page 21: Melissa McCarthy and Ricky Gervais, Eva Marcille and Terrence Howard, Bret Michaels and Fergie, Josh Hartnett and Clea DuVall

Page 22: Katy Perry sparked rumors she had finally taken the plunge with longtime love Orlando Bloom after she was seen sporting a suspicious gold band on her left ring finger while vacationing in Hawaii

* Scott Disick has confessed baby mama Kourtney Kardashian is the reason his relationships fail -- the reality TV slacker revealed his now ex-girlfriend Sofia Richie felt neglected because he spent more time with Kourtney and their three kids, saying it's definitely not easy that they see each other, work together and are friends but he's always been clear that his priority has been his kids and he even put it out there that taking care of Kourtney is one of his priorities

Page 26: Reality star fixer-uppers Jonathan and Drew Scott are sweating bullets over a lawsuit filed against their Property Brothers show by unhappy clients and the stress over the scandal is wreaking havoc with their personal lives -- Las Vegas couple Mindy and Paul King filed suit against Cineflix, the company that producers Property Brothers, and Villa Construction, a local contracting company, alleging they did a shoddy job repairing their home after the couple forked over $193,000 for renovations -- though the twin brothers aren't named in the lawsuit, they were concerned it could smear their reputations and upset their ladyloves -- Jonathan is close to marriage with actress Zooey Deschanel and Drew is wed to Linda Phan, who is the creative director for their company, Scott Brothers Entertainment -- they're both mortified by these allegations and they don't know what to tell Zooey and Linda, other than they will be cleared when the truth comes out but they're terrified that the bad press could derail the show -- Paul and Mindy answered a 2018 casting call and said they were assured all the work would be HGTV quality but Paul said that the place looks good from afar, but it's far from good and the Kings griped to the Nevada State Contractors Board, citing more than 90 complaints with the work ranging from unmatched baseboards to potential hazards -- as the case plays out, the brothers have been rattled by the controversy and they are stressed that this very public case is calling their work into question and there's a fear more people will come forward with similar charges

Page 28: Cover Story -- a top-secret psychological profile of Prince Harry's wife Meghan Markle paints the former actress as a mentally unstable ticking time bomb who couldn't cope with playing second fiddle to senior royals -- the explosive evaluation unmasks Meghan as a pathological liar and bipolar narcissist with histrionic personality disorder but the jaw-dropping findings about Meghan, who's pregnant with a sister for son Archie, don't surprise palace sources as Meghan's tears, tantrums and extreme mood swings had staffers terrified what she could do or say next and she was consumed with ambition and jealousy -- she married Harry expecting to be the royal superstar, but instead learned she'd always be second to his brother Prince William's wife, Duchess Kate and Meghan couldn't stand that she and Harry would always be in their shadow and wanted to destroy her in-laws but no one expected her to lob a nuclear grenade into her husband's family in a no-holds-barred TV special

Page 32: Health Watch

Page 34: Cara Delevingne confessed she used to be disgusted by same-sex relationships and was suicidal before coming to terms with her sexuality -- the model, who has dated actresses Michelle Rodriguez and Ashley Benson and singer St. Vincent, said she was trapped in a dark place and afraid before she publicly admitted to liking members of the same sex -- she said she grew up in an old-fashioned household and she didn't know anyone who was gay and she didn't know that was a thing and growing up she wasn't knowledgeable of the fact she was homophobic and she continued that the idea of being with same-sex partners, she was disgusted by that, in herself -- Cara, who identifies as pansexual, explained her sexual orientation is constantly changing and added she was so unhappy and she wasn't following her truth, that whole thing of having to fit into the box, she's an androgynous person

* Don McLean wants his decades-younger girlfriend to have the wedding of her dreams and he's set aside $1 million for the big day -- the American Pie singer has been dating model Paris Dylan for five years after an ugly divorce from second wife Patrisha Shnier -- Paris is totally unconcerned by the enormous age gap between the 75-year-old singer and 27-year-old model and wants to spend the rest of their lives together -- Don's going all out making sure she has the wedding that's fit for a princess and he's spending an absolute fortune, giving Paris the best of the best in terms of the venue and the food and the one-of-a-kind dress and Don's given her carte blanche to plan it however she wants, and people are expecting a seriously over-the-top affair

Page 36: Singer Andra Day turned to method acting to play jazz icon Billie Holiday, and it's paid off with an Oscar nomination -- Andra revealed she dropped 39 pounds and took up drinking and smoking to prep for the title role in the biopic The United States vs. Billie Holiday -- Andra doesn't recommend smoking and drinking, but she did it because she was just desperate for her first role -- Andra, famed for writing and performing the song Rise Up, also sings in the movie as Holiday, and changed her singing voice to reflect the music legend's pain

* Hollywood Hookups -- MTV reality stars Jenna Compono and Zach Nichols secretly tied the knot and their first child is due in August, Larsa Pippen is dating Myles Kronman, Ashley Jacobs and Mike Appel engaged

Page 38: Cindy Crawford said posing for Playboy was a snap compared to acting in movies -- Cindy said she really regrets starring in the 1995 bomb Fair Game, where she played a lawyer fighting a former KGB spy -- she said she never wanted to be an actor, but a producer begged her and he kept upping the price until she thought she'd be an idiot to say no, but she should have said no, or prepared herself better -- the experience taught her she's very comfortable in front of a camera, but only when she's being herself

* Former American Idol judge Randy Jackson is half the man he used to be and he couldn't be happier about it -- Randy has dropped a whopping 130 pounds to head off potentially deadly effects of his type 2 diabetes and did it in the healthiest ways -- he wrote in his book Body with Soul, it's a curse to be saddled with a disease that's life-threatening, but it's a blessing to get that huge wake-up call -- Randy admitted to crushing the scale at 358 pounds before getting gastric bypass in 2003 but now exercises and eats right and he's ditched sugar and gluten and he wants to be an example for other obese folks and show them they can get healthy and stay that way

Page 40: Tom Brady did an end run around fuming wife Gisele Bundchen by signing a four-year contract extension with his new Tampa Bay Buccaneers team after winning the Super Bowl -- the 43-year-old quarterback promised Gisele he would hang up his cleats after the upcoming season since winning last year's championship but changed his mind after snagging his record seventh NFL title with the Bucs -- Gisele is both angry and astonished because they had spoken about him finally settling down to be a full-time father and husband, but he can't stop chasing glory on the field and Gisele was stunned by his decision to re-up for another four years while the two were discussing expanding their brood and they had planned to have another child after buying their dream house on Indian Creek Island in Miami and they were even drawing plans for a nursery, and now that Tom's done a complete turnaround, everything is up in the air; it's caused some serious tension in their marriage

Page 42: Red Carpet -- Grammy Awards -- Billie Eilish, Megan Thee Stallion, Dua Lipa, Noah Cyrus, Lizzo, Taylor Swift

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maevemarethyu · 3 years

Text

Unexpected (4/?)

(Not my GIF)

You weren’t expecting it. Neither of you were.

That didn’t mean you weren’t happy with how it ended.

Bucky Barnes x Reader Fic.

Warning: Cursing, Cheapshots, a bit of violence, Sad Boi Hour and Fluff

Updated 1/20/2021

It was time. The stage was set. After two days of non-stop correspondence with James, who insisted you call him Bucky, he was knocking on your door for the second time.

“Hey!” You greet, not giving him a chance to respond before you wrap your arms around his torso in a tight hug. It takes him a few moments to return the sentiment but, when he does, you can’t help but notice that James Barnes gives excellent hugs. “Sorry, I get all touchy when I’m nervous”

“S’alright.” He chuckles and you can hear it deep in his chest when you pull away. “I just picked up the papers from Matt.”

“I hope he didn’t give you any trouble. He’s always been protective of me but, this whole thing has him on edge. He’s a nice guy, I swear.” You lead him past the neatly stacked boxes of Patrick’s things and into the kitchen.

“I believe it. I woke up this morning and almost everyone was in a disguise and set on following me here.” The mental image of Steve Rogers and Wanda Maximoff dressed in dark shades and baseball caps makes you laugh harder than it should have. You had never met them but, Bucky talked about his team so much that you felt as if you knew them. Sam Wilson had even gone out of his way to steal James’ phone and personally apologize for the part he played in this whole ordeal.

You barely had time to thank him for the role he played in it before he and James were wrestling over the device. It reminded you too much of you and a certain bullet proof man that had somehow become like a brother to you. The thought of having to tell the Defenders what happened kept you up all last night but, it didn’t compare to having to tell Frank.

“That would have been a sight.” A smirk grows on your face. “Is everything ready?”

Bucky nods. “Claire told me she was spending the day with her sister. Her sister’s in Louisiana right now.” You hum in response. Did Claire really think James was dumb enough to believe that?

“I told Patrick that I was taking Laysa to work with me today. Said I’d be home late.”

The stage was set. After two days of torture in the form of loving gazes and gentle kisses with your husband, the time had come; all you had to do was wait.

“Do you really think they’ll come here?”

Your plan hinged on it.

“If not, I’m tracking them down and shoving these papers down their throats. I can’t stomach another day pretending.” You huff and, as if he knew you were talking about him, your phone dinged.

A message from Patrick.

“Hey babe, you home?” You read aloud before scoffing and typing a reply. No, I told you I’m at work all day (sad face) I’ll be home around seven.

You send off the message and open your snack cabinet.

“So attentive.” Bucky drawls sarcastically. “Husband of the year.”

His voice was low and it sends an unwarranted shiver down your spine. If there was one thing you’d learnt about Bucky Barnes over the past few days was that he really didn’t know how attractive he was. It wasn’t just his looks either, it was his sense of humor, his chivalrous nature, the way he talked about his friends, the nicknames; he was a complete package.

You felt ashamed for thinking about him like that before you realized you didn’t have a reason not to… not anymore. You could look at other men with appreciative eyes for the first time in fifteen years. You’d never act upon anything but, the knowledge that you could was liberating to say the least.

“Do you like popcorn? I was thinking we could watch a movie while we wait.” You ramble on, microwaving the packet before he could answer. “Ever seen Heavyweights? It’s an older Disney movie about a weight loss camp that gets taken over by a health nut. I’m asking you to be polite but, we’re watching it. Laysa’s down for a nap, that girl can sleep for days.”

Another laugh then “Sure doll.”

He had learned quite few things about you himself. You were stubborn, almost as much as he was, you had a serious sweet tooth, you had an even wider range of music than Sam did, you had a soft spot for movies from the 90’s and 2000’s, and you were an amazing mom. The way you talked about Laysa made his chest warm.

Bucky always had a soft spot for kids but, he’d never cared so much about a kid he’s never even seen.

“Great! It’s already set up. All you have to do is press play.” You shoo him into the living room as you pour the popcorn into a bowl. For the perfect balance of sweet and salty, you also fish out a bag of M&M’s, pouring them into a separate bowl.

“Hey Buck! Do you want a drink?” You ask as if this was normal for the two of you. Nothing about this was normal but, you can’t help but feel as if this was the most natural thing in the world. James had already seen you at your absolute worst, you didn’t have to pretend around him and it was amazing.

He answers with a Water’s fine Sugar and your cheeks ache from the silly grin that takes over your face as you fill two glasses. Years of practice has you precariously yet perfectly balancing the dishes on your arms as you make your way into the living room.

Bucky jumps up from the couch to grab the bowls out of your hands, setting them on the table before taking a seat on the couch. You were thankful you had insisted on buying all the furniture in your home; the small L-shaped sectional was perfect for the times you had everyone over. You plop down onto it, directly across from James.

“The hell is skim milk?” He asks, face twisted into a frown when one of the characters mentions it.

“Milk with little to no fat. It’s pretty common nowadays.” You explain while grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“We definitely didn’t have that in my day.”

“Right, I always forget that you’re an old man.” The tease makes him perk up a bit and, with a wicked grin, he turns to face you on the sofa.

“You’re gonna want to take that back sweetheart.” He warns.

“What are you now? two-hundred and fifty something?”

You hadn’t spoken to anyone like this other than Matt and Foggy in years, it gave you a rush you hadn’t felt in a long time. The feeling of butterflies had become a distant memory but, they hit you full force when his blue eyes lock onto to yours. Not even the pillow that narrowly misses you is enough to dampen the feeling.

“I thought you were a sniper Sargent? You must’ve lost your touch in your old age.” The next pillow hits you square in the chest and a squeal escapes your mouth before you can stop it. Bastard.

“You were saying?” The smirk that grows on his face is almost too cocky but, still obnoxiously endearing.

You want to retaliate but, instead you stand up to grab the wayward pillow off of the floor. You had a feeling that if you started a war, it would end in something neither of you were ready for. With all the pillows back on the couch you allow yourself to be submersed in the movie, laughing at all the parts you’d seen a thousand times, silently thankful that James was as well.

As the hour gets later, the impending confrontation weighs on your mind heavily with your eyes straying to the door every couple of minutes in anticipation. Not even the bonfire party depicted on the screen was able to capture your full attention.

“That’s all he has?” James asks, nodding towards the boxes when he notices how distracted you are.

“Mhmm. I bought the house and all of the furniture myself. Apparently being a cop doesn’t pay all too well.” You mused whilst staring at the cardboard. Fifteen years of your relationship was packed away in between his shirts and pants: all the jewelry, save your wedding band, and all of your photos together had been tossed in with his things. You didn’t want any reminders of all the years you had wasted upon Patrick Voight.

“What do you do to afford a home in Manhattan? Is it a secret drug cartel? You can tell me, I won’t rat you out.” You knew he was trying to get you to laugh and it worked. The sound bubbling up from your chest and into the air before it dawns on you he didn’t know what you did for a living.

“I wish.” You sigh dramatically. “I’m-“ Your alarm going off cuts your sentence off, signifying that it was time to feed Laysa. “Actually, let me show you. Wait here!”

You abandon him in the living room while you open the nursery door. Laysa’s already awake and mewling up a storm as you bundle her in your arms. “Settle down beautiful.” You whisper. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

She quiets down long enough for you to walk back to the living room and see James nervously rubbing his palms on his pants, looking as if he were about to be sick. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was nervous.

“James- Sorry… Bucky meet Laysa.” You keep your voice low as to not startle her and you unwrap the blanket around her. He’s out of his seat and in front of you almost faster than you could blink. Once her face is uncovered, he gasps.

“Wha- I thought- What is she?” He stutters as he takes in her white fur spotted with black and arctic eyes just like his own. His mouth drops open in wonder when she squeaks.

“She’s a snow leopard cub. I’m a keeper at the Bronx Zoo as well as a zoologist and wildlife rehabilitator; her mother had twins but, Laysa got ill so she ignored her to focus on the healthier cub. It’s not all that uncommon in the wild and if this happened in their homeland of Siberia, Laysa wouldn’t have made it through the first night. She needed round the clock care and I already had the nursery set up from when I had to take in some macaws.” You explain, rubbing under the cub’s chin. “What did you think Laysa was?”

James’ cheeks redden at your question and you feel your own face heat up. He didn’t-

“I thought you had a baby.” He admits sheepishly before meeting your eyes. “This… isn’t what I was expecting.”

You can’t help but laugh as you grab his hand and place it on Laysa’s head. “If I had a child and found out Patrick was cheating on me, nothing on this planet would be able to save him.”

You meant it and you had the resources to follow through.

But, that wasn’t something James should know about just yet… or ever. Not when he looked so tender stroking the small cub.

“Can you hold her while I make her bottle?” Once again, you don’t wait for confirmation before handing her off to him and going to the kitchen to heat up her meal; enjoying the milk while you can. Soon enough she’s going to be on a raw meat diet and you were not looking forward to cutting up bloody deer and pig.

By the time you arrive back to the living room, James is sat on the couch, Layla settling onto his lap, both entranced by the television. You don’t think twice before snapping a picture to send to Sam later, sure that he’d love to poke fun at Barnes for going soft.

Though, soft isn’t a word you’d use to describe James Barnes. Quite the opposite actually. The man was a wall of rippling and glistening muscle. Muscle that had invaded what little sleep you had gotten since meeting him.

You didn’t mind it all too much as long as it kept Patrick off of your mind.

You take your seat opposite to the man, almost immediately being ambushed by a little ball of fur who had just seemed to notice the bottle in your hand. Laysa’s steps were stuttered and clumsy but, you saw them as progress, last week she could barely move.

“Look at you go!” You coo, scooping her up when she gets close and she eagerly takes the bottle. She really had done a complete three-sixty from when you first brought her home. You loved working with animals and you loved being able to watch them in their natural habitat from afar but, being able to hold and nurse them was incredible.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to the zoo before.” James voices before taking a drink and you let out an exaggerated gasp.

“That just won’t do.” You tsk, readjusting the bottle. “You should come when I go back to full time. You can even bring Steve; we have senior discounts.”

He glares at you playfully before setting his glass down and settling back onto the couch; back leaning against the armrest and legs sprawled out on the cushions. He looked more relaxed than he had the entire time you’d known him and it brings a warm smile to your face.

Laysa finishes her bottle and is asleep almost instantly; instead of putting her back in the nursery, you wrap her in a blanket and set her on the couch next to you.

“Y’know I told everyone you had a kid. Stevie almost hunted down Patrick himself when he found out, Nat had to stop him. Then, when you talked about how sick she was, Nat had to stop me from hunting him down.” He confesses, eyes never leaving the little bundle next to you.

“Good to know family means a lot to you superheroes.” You laugh quietly, eyes drifting from the screen to the figure laying across from you. “You’re going to have to wait in line behind Matt and Foggy though and that’s only if they get to him before Elle does.”

Yes, Elektra made it very clear that she’s first in line if Patrick tries something after today.

Barnes raises an eyebrow but says nothing as he grabs a handful of M&M’s, giving you an idea. You and Foggy used to do this during late night’s studying at Cambridge; after discovering Matt’s abilities you roped him into it too. Whenever any of you got too overwhelmed, it was tradition to have a movie night complete with the game.

“Hey, see if you can make one into my mouth. If you make it, you can either ask me a truth or to do a dare.” You prompt, mimicking his positioning by leaning against the back of the couch and bringing your feet up onto the cushions. “If you miss, it’s my turn.”

“You have to answer?” He clarifies, already settling into a suitable position and you nod giddily. Patrick never played the game with you; said it was childish and not worth his time. You found yourself comparing Bucky to Patrick a lot in the past few days. “Who’s first?”

Just as the Apache relay in the movie begins, so does your competition with the Avenger on your couch as you open your mouth expectantly. You realize your mistake as the first M&M falls into your mouth with ease. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t smart to ask an Avenger grade sniper to play your candy truth or dare game.

James doesn’t even try to hide his cocky grin. “What’s the worst dare you’ve had to do because of this game?”

Oh he was going straight for the jugular. Sadly, you didn’t have to think too hard. Matt and Foggy were a little fucked in the brain if you were being honest.

The drop of chocolate melts on your tongue and you hum in satisfaction before answering. “It’s a toss up between having to streak across campus naked and having to down half a bottle of tequila. Consequently those were on the same night so yeah.”

His blue eyes widen in shock and you try to play it off as no big deal with a shrug. That was definitely your most memorable college experience and one you hadn’t even told Patrick about because you were sure he would have had a conniption.

“Naked?! You ran across a campus naked?”

“Mhm. Cambridge was never the same after Foggy, Matt, and I went.”

He mouths the word Cambridge in disbelief before a smirk takes its place. “I guess I have no choice but to believe you.”

“Actually, I think Foggy still has a video of it. He planned on playing it at my wedding but, Matt and I vetoed the idea.”

You shuddered to think what would have happened if your two hundred plus guests had to witness your blurry and naked form dashing through the dark with Matt and Foggy’s laughter in the background. You mother probably would have dropped dead right there.

“That’s a wedding I would have paid to be at.” He laughs. “I didn’t even have a proper one. Claire wanted a courthouse.”

“I almost wish I had a courthouse ceremony.” You admit whilst grabbing a handful of chocolate. “I ended up having people I didn’t even know watching what was supposed to be the best day of my life. All I can remember from that day was thanking Patrick’s twice removed great step aunt for her attendance and that my dress was the most hideous thing I’d ever laid eyes on.”

With a roll of your eyes, you motion for him to open his mouth and he does so with a smirk. Unfortunately for you, your aim wasn’t as good as James’ or Matt’s and the piece of candy ends up smacking him in the cheek before falling only to be caught mid-air by a metal fist.

Show off.

You stick your tongue out in a childish form of retaliation and an incredulous laugh falls from the man’s lips. Embarrassment heats your face and you open your mouth reluctantly, signaling the continuation of the game in order to prevent a snarky comment from Barnes.

Once again the candy lands in your mouth effortlessly and you groan. You hear him clear his throat and you brace yourself.

“What’s your favorite kind of food?”

The game takes off from there with Barnes managing to make every candy but one into your mouth and asking you questions that can only be considered mildly invasive where as you had more candy on the floor than you did in your hand, only making two or three of your shots.

“What’s your favorite memory from before the war?” You ask and it clearly catches him off guard. You almost feel bad before remembering the reason for the game. It was to get to know each other beyond what was currently happening.

He tells you his favorite memory about Steve spending their train money on hot dogs and it has you laughing so hard that tears come to your eyes.

“Y-You spent how much on a stuffed animal?” You choke on a laugh as you try to catch your breath and soon enough, he’s laughing along with you, both of you oblivious to the door unlocking.

A candy pelts your shoulder and you retaliate with two thrown in his general direction, neither of which hit.

“I thought you’d be good at this doll. This is your game.” The way he chuckles send a shiver straight down your spine and you brush off the feeling by throwing a pillow at him which he catches easily. Anything to get to hear him laugh like that again. James had a nice laugh that came from his stomach and reverberated around you like his embrace from earlier.

“Oh my God.”

Yours and James’ heads snap towards the door where the two people you dreaded seeing were stood, mouths open and eyes wide in shock. Patrick and Claire were here and you and James had been too caught up in each other to notice. The thought made a smug and downright cruel smirk grow on your face which only widens when James walks to your side of the couch and offers his hand to help you stand.

You and James were a united front and it appeared that he wanted them to know it.

Your eyes abandon his blue ones and look towards Patrick. He was seething, you could see it in his eyes but, you could also see the fear. After all, he had just been caught with the Winter Soldier’s wife and James could snap him in half with his vibranium arm tied behind his back.

Despite the victorious feeling in your chest, you seem to be at a loss for words. You want to yell. To scream in their faces that they were caught and they were about to lose the best things to ever happen to them. Instead you scoff.

“About damn time you got here.” You scowl, picking up the stack of papers on the coffee table and handing the top one to the man beside you. He takes it with a poorly whispered Thanks sweetheart and you know it’s because he wants to get under Patrick and Claire’s skin.

It works.

“Y/N, baby w-what is this?” Patrick stutters next to a teary Claire who looks nothing less than ashamed. They were caught and they both knew it but, Patrick never was one to go down without a fight.

“This.” You motion between the minimal space between you and James, anger rising in your chest. “Is my good friend Bucky. You’d never guess how we met. When was it again?”

There’s a bite to your words that makes Claire wince and you want to throttle her. She didn’t get to act scared and sorry now. She sure as hell wasn’t scared or sorry when she was destroying her marriage and hurting the man who had vowed to love her for the rest of their lives.

Your eyes flicker to Bucky’s blue ones and underneath the anger, you could still see the sadness that was currently weighing your own heart down. You could read him like a book and you were both on the same page.

He pretends to think for a moment before answering. “Three days ago. I believe I ran all the way here after finding out the guy who my wife was cheating on me with had a wife of his own. I’d say we bonded pretty quickly. Shared life experience will do that.”

His words cut like a knife and you love it. All you had seen was James Barnes the gentleman, this was new and exciting. Dare you say, attractive even.

“B-Buck-“ Claire sobs and you can’t stop the scoff the leaves your throat. “It d-didn’t mean anything. I swear. I love you m-more than anything.”

Her words set something off in the man next to you and he growls; the sound shaking your very core. You hand finds his arm on its own vocation and, as calmly as you can, make your way towards the shell-shocked pair. Ignoring Patrick in favor of leveling a glare at the woman who tore your marriage, your life apart. Maybe it was petty of you but, you honestly didn’t see what either man saw in Claire. You were thoroughly unimpressed.

“If you loved him, this would have never happened.” You seethe, inches away from her face. “I’ve known him for seventy-two hours and I can already see that he is a kind, caring, selfless man who deserves much better than you. You’re pathetic. A sniveling little girl who isn’t a fraction of the woman he deserves. You’re a rat. My husband is a rat. And if you know what’s good for you, you’d save your bullshit apologies and words for your fucking lawyer.”

A firm grip on your arm causes you to gasp and turn towards your soon-to-be ex-husband but, as soon as you register his hand on you, it’s wretched away by sleek metal.

“You don’t get to touch her.” James warns, flinging Patrick to the floor in a heap. Without a second glance to him, he turns to Claire and forces the papers into her hands. You let your stack fall onto the man on the ground.

“Your shits packed Patrick. Take it and get the hell out of my house.” You mock in your bitchiest voice before looping an arm through James’. “I was thinking Thai tonight. Sound good?”

Patrick mumbles something under his breath and you just know it’s something snide; you want to shrug it off but, something deep in your gut wants to fight with him. Scream. Yell. Curse.

“What was that?” You ask in a sickly-sweet voice, daring him to repeat his words for all of you to hear. You know he will. He always rises to the bait.

“I said you’re a raging bitch.” He shuffles to his feet with a glare directed at you. Bucky bristles beside you and mumble for him to let it go. To let you handle it.

“If me throwing your lying ass out onto the streets means I’m a raging bitch, then I guess I am. But, I’d rather be a raging bitch than a washed up, dishonorably discharged, peaked in high school, disrespectful to his mother, wannabe Avenger, who can’t match his own fucking clothes.” The insults spew out of your mouth like dragon’s breath and it burns him with how calm you sound. You knew raising your voice would give him the satisfaction he craved so you held out.

“Do you wanna know why Y/N? Do you want to know why all of this happened?” You open your mouth to say no but, he keeps talking. “When I got dusted. My last thought was damn, I’m dead and I wasted half my life on an ugly cow who thinks she’s hot shit because she went to college!”

His words were like a slap in the face but, you’d rather die than let it show so, you force a laugh out of your lungs.

“I didn’t just go to college. I got two fucking Doctorates.” You seethe, gripping onto James’ arm for some kind of ground.

“Oh and I’m sure your parents would be very proud of you if they didn’t abandon you on the side of the road like trash!”

Whatever you were going to say next gets caught in your throat. You never spoke of your parents and Patrick knew that. He knew it was a line he was never supposed to cross. You’d kept your insecurities close to your chest; not even telling Matt, Foggy, or-

“Get out.” Your voice cracks and, when he doesn’t move, you end up yelling. “Get the fuck out!”

“And I’m sure they’d love to hear about you shacking up with a HYDRA assassin. You’ve been surrounded by scum all your life, why should I be surprised.”

“Patrick-“ Claire gasps yet, no one pays her any mind. She was background noise to the firefight between you and your husband. You almost feel guilty- this wasn’t just about you and Patrick; Bucky was supposed to get his time to confront Claire as well but, for some stupid reason, you hadn’t been expecting this.

You hadn’t expected the man you love to open your stitched wounds by shoving a hot knife into them. Suddenly, you stand up straight and before you realize it, your phone is in your hand.

Your birth parents may have abandoned you, your adoptive parents may have passed away, but you still had family. You still had him and you were a fool for thinking you shouldn’t rely on him.

The ringing doesn’t last a full second before the call connects and a raspy voice shoots the fear of god into your soon-to-be ex-husband. A god named Frank Castle.

“Yeah sis? E’vrything all right?” He grunts, probably in the middle of his daily workout. You had two choices; handle this like an adult or…

“Frankie?!” You sob dramatically with a truly wicked smile on your face. “H-He’s been cheating on me and-“

The phone cuts off as soon as the words leave your mouth and your eyes meet Patrick’s wide ones.

“You better start running baby.” You hiss. “Hope you have a good place to hide. I don’t think The Punisher is going to show the man who broke his baby sister’s heart much mercy.”

You hated the nickname but, it struck fear into the hearts of all who heard it. Beside you Bucky barks out a laugh.

Maybe not everyone.

Regardless, time is of the essence and Patrick knows it because he’s instantly scrambling. The way he trips over his own feet to take his meager possessions has you humming in satisfaction. Watching him panic makes you feel vindicated. He was going to pay for hurting you.

You knew the feeling was temporary, so you revel in it while you can.

“Leave your key. I want these papers signed and then I never want to see you again.” You order and the papers are signed and in your hand within minutes.

Without so much as a goodbye or sorry, he leaves. Abandoning you and the life you two had built together. Abandoning Claire to face you and James alone. A coward- through and through. How had you been so blind this whole time? This was who Patrick was- who he had been all your lives.

Fifteen years and he was able to just turn his back on it all. Leave like it didn’t matter.

Like you didn’t matter.

God, you wish it didn’t hurt as much as it did.

“The apartment’s yours.” Bucky voices after a moment of silence and a sharp laugh leaves your lips when Claire sobs. “I advise you apply for a transfer though. Natasha made it very clear what will happen if she sees you again.”

You watch as she reaches for him before her hand falters mid-air, consequently falling back to her side and tightening into a fist.

“You’re going to regret this.” She hisses even though tears are falling from her eyes. “You’re nothing without me.”

Your breath catches in your throat when Bucky stiffens next to you. This bitch…

“Without me all you are is a stupid, needy, little HYD-“

Your fist throbs instantly and it takes you a moment to realize what you had just done. Eyes wide, you stare at the red welt on Claire’s cheek, down to your fist, and up to James, who is looking back with eyes just as wide.

“Did you just punch me?!” She shrieks, both hands flying up to cover her cheek.

“Yeah.” You mumble after a beat of silence before clearing your throat. “I did and I want you out of my home before I give you a matching bruise on the other side as well.”

She sputters in disbelief before turning her eyes back to Bucky who, once he’s over his shock, just shrugs. “You heard her. We’re done here.”

With a stomp of her foot and a childish wail, she stalks out the door and you follow, slamming it after her.

Silence envelops the room and you’re acutely aware of Bucky’s eyes on you. Shuffling your feet, you garner the courage to look him in his eyes.

“That went well.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: @luthien-t @vicmc624

#bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n

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the-bjd-community-confess · 3 years

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Now hear me out, maybe the reason people don’t want to talk politics with you, is because this is a doll hobby. Not because it’s a hobby specifically, or some shit, no because like too many of the collectors are either immature, can’t see past their own nose, or are incredibly entitled, and know it all, who think they’re just soooo awesome because they have this one set mentality, they’re never going to change, and let me mention how many people think the world ends either at the US borders, or at the European borders. And even there, people forget like a bunch of places. Seriously, who in their right mind, would honestly think that some random doll collectors, who talk to dolls like their living beings, have huge arguments about bust/boob sizes, have a problem with immature manbabies, and women throwing toddler tantrums, sexualizing of plastic dolls, people complaining about people sexualizing plastic dolls, calling homophobia on gay dolls, people policing how to do transdolls, to transdoll owners who’re trans, other bullshit, and write cringy shit, should be the the go to people, to talk about the socio economic crisis somewhere in the world? Do you really, really want to talk to those types of people, about things that need some serious consideration, and actual willingness to listen, and do research?

Hell, some times I wonder how some people manage to even turn on their phones, with how backwards some people are. I mean, have any of you noticed how people will literally flock to the same scammers over and over again, or just passively accept being shat on by sellers, and just not do anything? Everyone knows the names of the scammers, and still I see people take the chance, and then complain months down the line that they got scammed… again. I see people talk about the exact same people, how bad their customer service is. How they didn’t get their stuff. How they waited for months, with no response. How they literally spent hundreds, and are now basically being ghosted. And they still ask if they should fill a paypal claim. -The answer is yes btw, especially if you know they’re a serial scammer. Do your research.- Or they even ask if they just seem to forget about this, and go to the next scammer. And hey, how about how often people get literally offended, when people ask how people can afford all these dolls, or when people show some critical thought, to people encouraging spending way past your means? Some collectors are literally unable to feed themselves, but still keep buying, and people in this hobby encourage it. Yeah, really the people you’d want to speak serious business with, that needs thorough thought. /S Let me tell you, as a European person, most Europeans think they know about US politics, and they just fucking don’t. That’s how you get so many shit takes made by Europeans, about the US. Especially those who speak little English. Not every, honestly most Euros don’t have any idea about anything, because that’s how it be. Same for US people, they’re also not gonna know a shit ton of Euro politics, especially when it’s not published in any English speaking news. I can’t count how many bad takes I’ve seen from US people about European stuff. It’s fucking mutual. I wouldn’t want anyone to start talking about anything important with me, especially politics, if I met them through this hobby, because I just can’t see anyone here having enough braincells to form a coherent enough thought for me to WANT to understand. Hell, I’m probably that brainless troglodyte to some people, and you know what? Fucking good. I have other people I can talk to, about politics, mental health, disabilities, and whatever else we think is important. People who are prepared to talk these issues, and I can have the expectations that they have the needed respect for the issues talked about. I don’t think I’m smart, I’m a huge idiot, and I’ll admit to that, and I know maybe I’m viewing this from my narrow view of the hobby, but I’ll still throw it out there: This hobby, dolls, vinyl, resin, whatever, is too dumb for serious topics. Maybe not everyone individually, some individuals are smart, and nice enough, and respectful of the issues that exist, but as a collective, this hobby is dumb. Just, really dumb. If I sound condescending, or you’re gonna call me a dumbass for this, yeah fine, but seriously, would you personally honestly want to actually find people in this hobby, just to talk politics? Talk some serious political issue, to someone you don’t actually know? Who’s entire presence to you, is literally just a bunch of dolls. Also, why is it always boiling down to politics? I’m just curious since that’s the go to topic, but there are like hundreds of topics that could be talked about, but it’s always just politics. Is someone ever going to demand we talk about abuse to people? Or other shit like that? Politics isn’t the only real world thing, and is probably some of the most subjected to where you live, so how are you even gonna talk stuff like local politics, to someone who doesn’t even live in the same country?????? I am going to say though, if it’s something political actually relating to the hobby. Like the ringdoll, hongkong, nazi thing from a few weeks ago, you know, actually relevant to the hobby, I’ll be right fucking there talking, and calling that shit out. I’ve called out people for Nazi sympathizing, with their dolls. How people try to make excuses for continuing to buy ringdoll shit, or how they pretend nazi scum isn’t really that bad bc “Uwu, it’s just the style that’s nice.” FUck off to those fucks.

~Anonymous

#BJD #ABJD #BJD Confessions #TrueBJDConfessionz #Politics #BJD Community

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five-hxrgreeves · 3 years

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I Won’t Back Down - Five Hargreeves x OC

Word Count: 1,982

You can stand me up at the gates of hell But I won't back down I'm gonna stand my ground Won't be turned around And I'll keep this world from dragging me down

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

Pt. 3- Monday, April 1, 2019

The morning of the first dawned with a bright blue sky and perfect spring temperatures, almost in mocking irony of the fate it would meet later on that same day. Suspecting nothing amiss, Lola began her usual morning routine of getting ready for school. After brushing her teeth, she went to her closet and decided on a pair of jeans, a white, long-sleeved v-necked shirt with black polka-dots and after brushing her hair, hesitated over a choice of hats that she owned. While there was no strict dress code at her school, she did like to make a good first impression on Mondays. The rest of the week was up for grabs.

Coming to a decision, she reached for a yellow hat with a navy-blue ribbon around the crown that was tied in a bow and placed it jauntily on her head. The brunette was somewhat known around school for her unique accessories so she’d only been indecisive over which style she’d wanted, not actually whether or not to wear a hat. She then pulled on a pair of riding-styled boots and picked up her backpack, sliding her deck of cards into the back pocket of her jeans. Lunchtime was usually a boring affair so it was often when she would practice her magic- sometimes with a crowd to entertain.

On her route to school, Lola passed the familiar Umbrella Academy house and wondered what transpired within the walls, remembering the strange man she’d met the previous week. She wondered how long it had been since all of the siblings had seen each other since from Vanya’s book, it hadn’t seemed like they’d lived under the same roof for a long, long time. A smile flickered across her face as she thought of grown-up superheroes attempting to act like real siblings and the interesting, chaotic bickering that might ensue.

(Of course, she had no idea that such arguments might result in the end of life on earth.)

After that, the day passed as it usually did, with millions and billions of people completely unaware of what the night would bring.

Once dinner was over, Lola scraped her plate clean and set it in the dishwasher before turning it on to run, blatantly unaware that this would be the last time she did such a mundane action for a long, long time. Then, she made her way into the family room where her mother, father and uncle were sitting on the couch about to watch TV. Both men had their traditional after-dinner drink of two fingers of whiskey while her mother sipped on spiked hot coffee.

“Mom?” Lola asked.

“Yes, dear?”

“I’m going to the basement now, all of the dinner dishes are cleaned up.”

Her mother’s blue eyes- the ones she’d inherited- flicked to the younger girl, “alright, but don’t stay up too late. It’s a school night, you know.”

Her uncle grinned, “yeah,” he said, breaking to take a sip from his glass, “wouldn’t want you to show up all grumpy for school tomorrow.”

Lola sighed and nodded in acceptance, “alright, I’ll do my best,” she said, knowing it was more than likely she’d lose track of time anyway.

Moving first towards her mother, then father and finally her uncle, she gave them each a goodnight hug and exchanged their daily I love yous.

(She would be grateful that these were the last words she’d ever said to her family. At least she wouldn’t have to live wondering if her family had known she’d loved them.)

Then, she went to the basement.

Not even a mile away, the beginnings of an altercation were occurring at the house the size of a single block where the seventh, disregarded member of the family of superheroes was receiving a hostile welcome at the introduction of her new boyfriend, Leonard Peabody.

Lola liked her basement. It wasn’t terribly large but it wasn’t terribly small, either. Half of it was unfinished and the other half was lived-in, creating a perfect balance. In the unfinished side, metal shelves that one might see in a hardware store stood floor-to-ceiling with various tools and stored holiday items. Paint cans, electric machinery, extension cords and other items one would normally find in a shed were scattered haphazardly along the shelves.

In the other half, a carpeted floor of some green color stretched from the back wall to right before Lola’s writing desk. On top of it sat an old, brown-leather couch, a black wooden coffee table from IKEA and a TV hung mounted on the wall. After the carpet ended, removable foam-padded tiles formed the floor. This was the area where Lola’s desk sat which was a large, white table. The desktop itself was almost empty except for her half-filled notebook, three different-sized candles, a pencil sharpener and a pencil holder. Her papers- both for school and other things- were stored in a hand-me-down brown file cabinet that stood to the left of her workspace.

Before sitting down to write, the brunette carried out her ritual warm-up: lighting the candles, flipping to the next available page, sharpening her pencil and placing her reference books on her desk- The Book Thief, of course, and her new book from Vanya Hargreeves. Then, she pulled her deck of cards from her back pocket and placed the rectangular box carefully on the lower-left corner of her desk, making sure to match up the corners of the box with the outlined shape created by the corner. She wasn’t sure why she did this, it just was something she absolutely had to do before she finally sat down.

Once finished, Lola made sure to flip the electric lights off and returned to her seat which was a rolly-chair with one broken wheel. She began to write surrounded by her small pool of glowing, flickering light.

Today’s memory is from when I was six. (Note to self: find a better opening.) It was my first time at the store for hours on end. Usually, a babysitter would come by and pick me up but I suppose she cancelled. (NtS: get more details. Just kidding, nobody cares about that.) Anyway, I was super bored and since I was little, I didn’t have any schoolwork to do. I wandered around the store for a bit, probably causing mischief. Anyway (you already said that, dummy) the funny part is that I sat down at a group of mannequins because there weren’t any other seats and I must’ve sat so still that everyone thought I was one because when I finally stood up, a woman screamed. I didn’t know why at the time but it happened again when I was older. Then I started doing it for my own amusement. It was funny to see people think that I was a fake, plastic doll only to realize I was actually real. Sometimes, I even went to the back and dressed in clothes that would soon be modeled by the mannequins- although I think the effect was ruined because I didn’t fit them.

A story up and a block over, the altercation had grown to a full-blown verbal assault, the main four members of the family heatedly questioning the new boyfriend’s insistence on them coming to their sister’s concert. The seventh member, feeling hurt and angry that her family wouldn’t, just once support her, felt the tension build up within her, her emotions unusually high from the lack of medication she’d consistently taken for years until this week.

The spot was also great for people-watching. While Gimbel Brothers has mostly ordinary clients, there are some cases that are more noteworthy (NtS: fix wording, sounds awkward). There are many people who bring children to the store as well. On Mondays, there is an average of twelve children, usually after school. The number varies throughout the week until Saturday where there are usually fifteen or twenty. One time, as an outlier during the holidays, there were twenty-five. I know this because I counted them. I don’t usually do it intentionally and I’m sure I miss some customers but for some reason, all the numbers stick in my head. The funny thing is, I’m terrible at math. I’m also really good at cards, though. I’ve never lost a game of War or Go Fish. My uncle says I’m a counter, which I suppose is true. I’ve also counted all the sequins on one of our formal dresses, just for fun. There were two-hundred and eighty-six.

As the sky grew dark outside, the argument in the large house had reached an all-time high with Leonard Peabody outwardly insulting his girlfriend’s largest brother, inciting his anger and riling him up purposefully, causing him to throw the first punch. The seventh member of the family desperately tried to pull her boyfriend away, to save him from an assault that he would surely not survive. She was right about that, but there was nothing she could do. There was only one person Number One listened to and it wasn’t her.

Anyway, back to people-watching. There was once a rich woman who came to our store. No one could figure out why; we’re not exactly the high-end type. She brought her daughter with her, a pretty, blonde girl with bright blue eyes. Almost like mine, I think, but they looked better on her. I heard her tell Brittany that she wanted to get her granddaughter ‘normal clothes,’ except she said it like an insult. I figure that when her granddaughter came to visit, all she provided were expensive outfits and the girl spilled on them, teaching her the lesson of buying cheaper clothes for little kids. She didn’t say all of that but I made up the story to go along with her request.

Standing over Leonard’s body, the seventh member of the Hargeeves turned on her brother, eyes shining white against her pale face. In his hand, he held a bloody, glass eyeball. Her siblings crowded together, trying to calm her, but she spent all of her life being calm and she was tired of it. Turning her gaze to the academy, the building shook under a ten-point-zero earthquake, the bricks and concrete falling down in rapid succession. Tearing her gaze away from the sight of her childhood hell, she let sound waves resonate through the street, knocking over buildings and causing them to collapse, burying her siblings in rubble. Carelessly, she walked away as anger, sadness and hatred fueled her steps to her apartment where she changed and gathered up her violin for the world’s last performance.

She was very posh too, with fur and everything. She stood still long enough that I could study her coat, which had thirty spots. I’m not sure if it was real fur (if it was, she’s a horrible person), but she certainly acted very high-class, even speaking a little nasally and tilting her head up to look down on Brittany. I think it might’ve been because of Brittany’s skin color. The woman didn’t seem to be very accepting of hard-working people that looked different from her.

At ten o’clock pm, the close of the concert, sound waves so large they felled the building and many blocks over swept through the city. A short, dark-haired woman with a glowing white light in the center of her chest rose above the destruction, sending out pulses of sound to the far-reaching corners of the world. With no one to stop her, no one to shoot a gun next to her ear, the bottled power exploded from her chest sharing with everyone the feelings of hurt and neglect that she’d been forced to endure throughout her childhood. One person alone survived in a basement not much deeper than the fictional character’s she admired, writing away and completely unaware that the world above had changed beyond recognition.

#The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x dolores #five hargreeves x oc #five hargreeves x reader #Five x oc #five x dolores #tua five #5 #human dolores #pre-tua #apocalypse #hargreeves #dolores isn't a mannequin #vanya hargreeves

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seabass-plums · 4 years

Text

When we locked eyes

Summary : when Bucky walks into the flower shop owned by the reader , she couldn’t help but feel for him. Her interested are soon loosened up once she figures he’s buying the flowers for a special someone.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader

Theme : fluff

Masterlist

Do not repost my work , reblogs are more than welcome and appreciated.

The beautifully pleasing sound of cling wrap being cut perfectly and swaddled around a bunch of fresh flowers was always therapeutic to you , especially when the bunch consisted of daffodils , iris and asters. The aromatics beautifully mended together and created a pleasant environment to work in whilst also taking in the consideration of the lovely people that care to drop by and pick one each day.

You almost grew a familiarity towards the customers , adapting towards the daily grind of your complicated yet peaceful life. You needed to work hard to earn enough money for our courses , your understanding towards flora came in handy once you decide to leave everything behind and have a fresh new start that mainly considered of leaving behind your toxic family and their mannerisms.

The bells placed above the wooden creak doors chimed , signifying the arrival of your very first customer-a man in his late thirties , dropping by every Thursday afternoons to hop in for a beautiful bouquet of tulips and dandelions , the wide smile that started from his left eye and ended at his other only meant his pure love and affection for his wife , reminding her that thursdays was usually when his day off began , which meant the weekends had arrived.

“Here you go Mr. Peterson , have a lovely day ahead.” You smiled warmly , handing him over the fresh , perfumed flowers along with a gift card dedicated to his lovely wife.

“Mrs. Potters , how lovely it is to meet you.” You greeted one of the regulars , a woman in her sixties , waddling her way into the little parlour with her cane-her purposes of visiting you may ask ? Her angelic granddaughter had passed away a couple months ago , her sole purpose resided in visiting the angel’s grave every thursdays after attending her services at the local church nearby.

“Sweetheart ! It’s lovely meeting you too.” She greeted back , her calloused yet delicate hands smoothened down your hair before giving off a causal pat on the back whilst taking you in her embrace.

“So , what can I interest you in today ? We’ve got asters , roses , tulips , black-eyed daisies and much more.” Your hands moved around , advertising the flowers that laid before her.

“Oh darlin , the same old for me. You know Veronica loved roses and black-eyed daisies.” She reminded you , her eyes crinkling up as she sent off a warm smile your way , her heart filling up with the memories of her precious granddaughter.

“Here you go Mrs. Potters , have a lovely day ahead.”

The bells chimed in once again and there he stood , the incredibly handsome guy who would always turn up at your store. You would’ve been lying if you said you weren’t excited to see him on Thursdays.

“Hey there Barnes , what can I get for you ?” You smiled from ear to ear while secretly eyeing down his attire. The brown , rusty leather jacket clung around his body like a film wrap , his abs quite literally poking out through the stiffness of the fabric.

“Ah , just some daisies and amber lilies.” He fingers fiddled with the pockets in his jeans and he quickly pulled out his wallet , his eyes shying away from your gaze as you chuckled in your thoughts before turning your back against him and grabbed onto the essentials.

Bucky was always the soldier at ease when it came to you , he’d always let his guard down no matter what. In fact , he was madly in love with the floweriest owning the place. He admired her beauty but from afar , he feared over his lack of skills in particularly the romance department , admitting his failure from the beginning.

You weren’t going to lie to yourself , you had fallen deeply for the soldier before you but rested your desires once you figured these flowers were travelling towards someone else present in his life , your heart shattered at the thought of failure but in totality leapt with joy , thinking of the broken Sergeant finally in love.

“Here you go Barnes.” You gave off a tight-lipped smile and handed over the flowers , internally screaming while your fingers brushed against his , Bucky mimicking the same.

It’s now or never Buck , he though to himself.

“So y/n , any plans for tonight ?” He leaned over the counter , admiring the flowers while still keeping his gaze away from you.

You thought about your answer for a second , you didn’t want to come off as a desperate loner. “Just uni work , not really important.” Way to go y/n , you face palmed yourself mentally.

“So you’re basically free ?” He questioned , his steel blue eyes met yours and you could’ve sworn you forgot what it’s like to be lonely.

“Y-Yes.” You stuttered.

You felt your ears begin to burn , your face growing into three shades of a darker red tint with embarrassment.

“Umm so what do you say , Dinner ? Just you and me ?”

Your pupils widened at his enquiry , putting you in an absolute trance. “Just the two of us ?” You questioned once again , your bottom lip tugged in between your teeth and you almost fell flat as his eyes gazed over your movements , stopping right above your lip whilst licking his own in joy.

“Yeah..was that too much to ask for ?” He grinned shamefully and scratched the back of his head , his boyish charm begging him to sprint to the doors and never come back while the soldier instincts forced him to stay.

“No , no ! Not at all..it’s just..” you trailed off , finding it extremely hilarious to reveal your truth. “I thought you were in a relationship..?” You stated in an unsure manner , your brows quirked up for his reply.

Bucky laughed out a loud , “What makes you believe that a broken white boy like me could be in a relationship ?”

You laughed along and pointed out towards the fresh flowers. Your eyes were quick enough to catch his motions , sheer sweat forming across his temples as he revealed the truth to you.

“Oh the flowers....they were honestly an excuse to drop by every Thursday.” He bit his lip lovingly and dropped his gaze once again , quickly self-noting himself to pick up his game the next time he had a chance , which he hoped wasn’t near enough. He wanted to succeed in his mission , you.

“So , about that dinner plan..” you mumbled and chewed on your bottom lip , “I’ll be glad to join you for dinner Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky’s eyes lit up with pure glee , the soldier within him with finally at ease , resting within it’s depths after completing his mission.

“Call me Bucky.” He chuckled deeply , holding out his hand before you.

You took in the cue and placed your soft palm in his , sucking in your breath as you witness his head drop below and place a tender kiss on the back of your hand. Although it’s been a hundred years , he still had his charms. A gentleman a heart , you thought.

“Can’t wait for tonight doll.” He stared at you for one last time before turning his back to your while beginning to head out the door.

“Bucky !” You called out , his body swiftly turning around to meet your eyes. “Maybe after tonight I might have something to believe in.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Taglist : @a-mess-of-fandoms @amisutcliff

Want to be added to my taglist ? Just inbox me or send me a direct message , comments can be accepted too !

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #marvel #james buchanan barnes #in your orbit #seabass plums #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #marvel meet and greet #fanfiction #fanfic #avengers #avengers assemble

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moody-bloosh · 4 years

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Hello, may I request LA squadra meeting a new member who is a slime who would turn into a blob/melt whenever they're relaxing and is an airhead?(literally), how would the gang teach her humans things?

sure thing anon! wahh this is so interesting lol! I tried to give this one a long ass title like the ones in the light novels 😂 i had a lot of fun writing this!!!

La Squadra And Their New Member Who is a Slime

You were lounging on a chair with a wonderful view of the river, the sun was shining, birds were singing, and the cool spring breeze hit you just right. You couldn’t help it. It was a bad habit, you knew it very well. But that was the thing with habits, sometimes you found yourself doing it.

Leaning back in your chair, you found yourself melting back into your much comfortable blob form. Just as a breath of relief was about to leave your lips, you heard a strange noise that was somewhere in between a strangled choke and a scream.

Shit.

Had a human spotted you? No matter, it wasn’t like they could kill you or anything. Physical attacks were nothing against a slime. With the thought that you could return to your careless afternoon after you took care of the pesky human that caught you in your head, you moved to attack.

The thing about being an ageless monster was that it was insanely easy to underestimate opponents. And this was how you found yourself being frozen in place, vulnerable.

This was your first meeting with Ghiaccio and it was through him that you found yourself entangled with the mysterious assassin team.

[how the team teaches you human things under the cut!]

Since Ghiaccio was the one who ‘defeated’ you, you attached yourself to him. At first, because you didn’t want him to brag about beating you. Then, it was because you just liked him.

Ghiaccio teaches you the concept of ‘friendship’. You find yourself ‘socializing’ with him. After a long day, you cling to him and tell him all about the strange things you’d learned from the other members of his gang.

He helps you process your day in a way. He isn’t the most patient person and he is prone to outbursts when he speaks to you but then again as a monster you don’t really understand Ghiaccio’s emotions.

He is loud and for someone like you who has spent such a long time in silence, he is a welcome reprieve.

So what if he was gruff and rough around the edges, you were soft enough to fill in those gaps.

The gang takes you with them on their hits, it’s far easier to dispose of a body and to leave no evidence when they had a walking disposal system like you.

Whenever he sees you in your “slovenly slime form,” Prosciutto takes it upon himself to scold you. He drills it into your head that you aren’t supposed to transform into your slime form while you are out in public. He teaches you etiquette, which you admit, you had shamefully forgotten. Living for a hundred years in solitude, devouring only animals and the occasional hapless witness to your true monstrous form left you essentially clueless to proper decorum.

A gourmet, Illuso takes you out to eat delicious things. Thanks to Prosciutto’s teachings you could finally be brought out to public. Illuso takes you with him to fancy restaurants where you devour each and every plate set before you. Your eyes widen and water as the different flavors play like fireworks in your gustatory system.

You find yourself becoming very fond of Illuso then and there. The new world of taste he had introduced to you was downright revolutionary as you’d spent most of your life not even knowing the concept of cooking.

Melone teaches you fashion. And for a slime like you, it is painfully easy to mimic clothes. You never even had to buy them. Sometimes Melone will turn you into his personal doll, he also has you transform into him on occasion with whatever wacky new outfit he had planned on getting just to see if it would suit him.

You learn to diversify your look because of Melone. He was right, a plain white frock was too simple for a wonderful and powerful monster like you.

You use the risque magazines that Formaggio lends you to figure out new methods of transformations. It always pleases you to see the stunned look on Formaggio’s face when he finds the latest Playboy model on his bed.

Your transformations are usually perfect save for the color of your eyes which somehow always stay an unnatural deep black shade. Still he wasn’t complaining. Formaggio was also the one of teaching you mostly about pop culture.

Pesci is in charge of teaching you slang. Which was something you hadn’t expected to pick up at all but you found yourself enjoying speaking to Pesci more than the other members. And you just somehow end up picking up on whatever new-fangled language the younguns were saying now.

Sorbet and Gelato show you the concept of skinship. You find yourself imitating them whenever you see them cuddling close together. Ghiaccio only flushes when you imitate the way Gelato sits on Sorbet’s lap.

Risotto does not outright teach you anything. If anything, you find yourself learning from him, a curious feeling for an ancient monster. You learn what it means to care, to care for things, to care for other people like the members of La Squadra. When Ghiaccio brought you home, he had been the one to have a final say as to whether or not you would be allowed to stay.

You were glad he let you stay.

Some days, you even felt human.

#la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra #Slime!Reader #ghiaccio x reader #risotto nero #ghiaccio #prosciutto #illuso #formaggio #sorbet and gelato #pesci #melone

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sergeanttucker · 5 years

Text

Get what you want

Summary: (Y/N) had always been impressed by Bucky’s body and she wanted more than anything else to feel him against her own. After an incident in the gym, an opportunity suddenly opens up and she could fulfill all her wishes.

Warning: a bit of angst and fluff, Smut! ,badly written smut!, some dirty talk and swearing, teasing

Word count: 4786

AN - Bucky smut again, yay! I really like this one, to be honest. I hope you do too. Enjoy. :)

Requests are open

There he was. Silently taunting her as he lifted those weights in the gym, his muscles flexing with every of his movements. The training shorts he wore had slipped up a bit during his workout, exposing his thighs to her hungry eyes. It’s almost embarrassing how much she wanted to touch them, to grip his thighs and feel how the muscles tensed as she made him cum with only her mouth.

She blushed at the thought. (Y/N) knew she shouldn’t be thinking something like this about her friend. Steve would surely give her a lecture about how inappropriate it was if he knew. But who could really blame her?

(Y/N) swallowed heavily as she watched how Bucky gripped his shirt at the back and pulled it over his head before he dropped it to the floor. The defined muscles in his abdomen drew her attention before her eyes wandered up to his chest and shoulders. Was it even allowed to be that attractive?

Her mouth ran dry as Bucky got down to the floor and started with push-ups. Her eyes instantly fell to his strong back and the way the muscles worked under his sweaty skin. Her own workout was completely forgotten as she watched him, biting her lip as her thoughts run wild.

“Are you ok, doll? You look a little flustered.” This smirk. This stupid, handsome smirk! It would kill her one day; she was sure of it. Bucky cocked an eyebrow as she stammered an excuse. “I eh…yeah, I’m just…I have to go.” She pointed awkwardly towards the exit and left as fast as possible, ignoring his chuckle as he watched her leave.

———————————————-

God damnit! He caught her staring! How could she be this stupid?! This thought and many more of them occupied her every thought for three days straight. Three days in which she avoided Bucky as best as she could. She left the room as soon as he entered. She never went to the gym the same time he was, and she even refused to go out for drinks with the team.

Unfortunately, on this evening it was movie night, and she didn’t have an excuse. She tried to convince Natasha and Wanda that she was sick but of course; they didn’t buy it and dragged her with them into the entertaining room. The room was filled with a variety of two-sitters and large plush sofas as well as comfortable armchairs.

As she entered the room, most of the team was already there and occupied, to (Y/N)’s dislike, all the armchairs. She opted for the next best thing and sat down in the back on a two-sitter. She let her eyes wander through the room to see if the metal armed soldier was already there.

She let out a sigh of relief when she saw him lying stretched out on a couch. At least he wouldn’t sit next to her … She wouldn’t stand it! She was still too embarrassed when he caught her staring. (Y/N) knew that Bucky knew why she had stared, he wasn’t stupid after all.

Before she could run further into her thoughts, the lights went out, and the movie started. After just a few seconds, (Y/N) knew exactly who had chosen the film. Peter. Why the teenager was around at this time, she didn’t know. But there was no question that he had chosen when the opening scene of Alien appeared on the screen.

After a few minutes, (Y/N)’s thoughts had cleared and she could actually enjoy the movie. She has always been a fan of classic horror films and she has seen all the alien movies at least a hundred times.

Her little moment of peace was suddenly interrupted when someone sat down next to her; the two-seater’s cushions gave way under the weight of the stranger. She didn’t even have to look to know who it was because the little hairs on the back of her neck straightened up, and they only did that when a certain person was around.

She swallowed hard at the realization, but she tried not to show her nervousness and ignored him as best she could. A warm arm wrapped itself around her shoulders and pressed her to an equally warm body. Soft lips were pressed against her ear, his hair tickling her exposed shoulder. “I didn’t like you avoiding me in the last few days.”

A shiver ran down her spine as his warm breath hit her skin and yet she continued to stare at the screen, even though she could no longer concentrate on the film. “I know why you’re always staring at me and I know what’s going on in your pretty little head when you do it.” His metal hand grabbed her knee and caressed the skin there.

(Y/N)’s breath caught in her throat. She should not be so surprised, she already knew that he knew, and yet she couldn’t stop the blush that rose on her face. Bucky chuckled darkly at her reaction, he couldn’t see how red her face was, but he felt how warm it was.

“You do not have to be embarrassed; I want you too.” He … he wanted her too? Did she understand that correctly? At first (Y/N) thought she had just imagined it, but she had not imagined the bite in her earlobe! “I want to feel every inch of your skin under my fingers as I make you scream my name. I want to mark you up so everyone knows that you’re mine. And, my God, I want to feel your walls tighten around me as I make you cum.” The last part was only a groan in her ear, which made her whimper softly.

“Bucky …” He quickly pressed a hand over her mouth to silence her “Pssst … I love to hear you say my name, but we do not want everyone else to hear it, right?” (Y/N) shook her head as best she could with his hand still over her mouth. “How about you come to me tonight after the movie, then you can be as loud as you want.”

(Y/N) whimpered again at his words and nodded; she could feel the dirty grin of Bucky against her ear. “I can’t wait to have you under me.” He turned her face to his and pressed a short, barely there kiss against her lips before he stood up with a grin and went back to his previous seat in the front. (Y/N) sat there rooted to the spot, she couldn’t concentrate on the rest of the movie and thought about Bucky’s words the whole time.

She squeezed her thighs together as she remembered the dirty tone of his voice in her ear. She was excited; all her fantasies could come true! But one thought plagued her throughout the rest of the movie… Would she really do it? Was she brave enough to go into Bucky’s room to live out all her fantasies?

———-

Nope! No, she couldn’t do that! Just go to him to get laid? That’s not her style. Sure, she had fantasized about it, especially on those lonely nights when her hand slipped into her panties. Those nights when she could think of nothing but how it would feel to have Bucky between her legs and that his hand was between her thighs instead of her own.

(Y/N) paced up and down in front of the mirror in her bedroom, racking her brain over the situation. That was certainly a unique opportunity, but what if Bucky didn’t mean it? What if he just wanted to fool her because he realized she had a crush on him? What if she actually goes to him and he just laughs at her because she fell for it? But Bucky wasn’t someone who played with the needs and feelings of others … right? She would never find out if she didn’t go to him.

After she finally decided to do it, she took a shower and washed herself as thoroughly as never before. Shaving, moisturizing cream and a little perfume. The whole program.

As she stood in front of the open wardrobe, she wondered what to wear. It should not be too sexy, not that she had a lot of sexy lingerie, but not too casual either.

(Y/N) opted for simple black lace panties with a matching bra and also put on a sleep shorts with an old band shirt. Nothing too exciting. In case Bucky wasn’t serious, (Y/N) didn’t want to stand there half-naked while she was being rejected.

After combing her hair, she paused in front of the mirror for a moment to convince herself to actually do it. She nodded to herself and made her way across the hall to Bucky’s room. At the door she stopped again, her hand already in the air to knock. A deep breath. Another one. She knocked.

She chewed anxiously on her lower lip as she waited for the door to open; it only took a few moments. Bucky stood in the doorway, and after a second of confusion, a broad grin spread across his face. He licked his lips and stepped aside so that (Y/N) could enter, then closed the door and turned the key to lock it.

(Y/N) stood at the door and played with her hands as she watched Bucky go to his bed and sit on the edge. Man, he looked good in his gray sweatpants and white shirt. “I see you have decided to come.”

The grin on his face didn’t disappear when he saw her nod. He raised a hand and made a gesture to tell her to come closer. (Y/N) took small, careful steps in his direction; she was still uncertain what to expect. She stopped in front of him, between his legs, nervously swallowing the lump that formed in her throat.

When he noticed that (Y/N) avoided his gaze, his features softened, and the grin was replaced with a gentle smile as he took her hands in his and kissed her palms. “If you’ve changed your mind, and you just want to hang out a bit, then that’s fine. I will not force you to do anything. It’s your decision, just tell me.”

(Y/N)’s heart beat a little faster at his words. She had not expected him to force her to, but to hear that there was a way out when she needed one calmed her immensely. A small smile touched her lips as she nodded.

“I need words, doll, tell me what you want.” He put his hands on her thighs and stroked them as he waited for an answer.

“I want you.” The words had barely left her mouth when Bucky pulled her into his lap. Her hands were on his shoulders to steady herself. They looked each other in the eyes for a moment. Bucky could feel her nervousness, her breathing faster than usual. Carefully not to frighten her, he cupped her face and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. Slowly, painfully slowly, he approached her face. His lips brushed over hers, not really kissing as he tested the water. “Please …” The whispered pleading was enough to convince Bucky that she wanted it. His eyes dropped to her mouth for a second before he pressed his lips to hers for a soft kiss.

It wasn’t long before Bucky broke the kiss, keeping his face close to hers as he watched her reaction. Her lips were slightly open, her eyes dropped to his mouth before she leaned forward to taste his lips again. Bucky’s hands left her face to grip her hips instead, pulling her closer until they were pressed together.

A soft sigh left (Y/N) mouth as their tongues began to tangle, stroking each other the same way Bucky stroked her hips. After what felt like an eternity, (Y/N) broke to the kiss because she remembered she still needed to breathe.

Apparently, Bucky didn’t have the need for air, his lips didn’t leave her as he trailed kisses over her jaw to her neck. He easily found her sweet spot and paid it special attention once the soft moan of his name found its way into his ear. His hands stroked up her sides, pushing the shirt up to expose more skin. (Y/N) shuddered as the cool surface of his metal hand touched her ribs, but he didn’t go further than that. “May I?”

Bucky truly was a gentleman. (Y/N) smiled briefly before she gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. Now sitting in only her bra and shorts on his lap, (Y/N) chewed nervously on her lip as his eyes wandered over her body, stopping at her chest.

“So. Fucking. Beautiful.” He punctuated each of his words with a short kiss to her lips once he finally tore his eyes away from her breasts. (Y/N) smiled at his words, they made her feel less nervous. Not that she is someone who is particularly insecure; in fact, she’s very happy with her looks. Even more so when she saw how Bucky looked at her, like he wants to eat her alive.

“What about this?” He tugged on the waistband of her shorts and let it snap back against her skin. Bucky’s voice sounded deeper than usual; it almost made her whimper. (Y/N) bit her lip as she got up from his lap and stood in front of him. Bucky licked his lips as his eyes wandered over her body again. The movement didn’t go unnoticed by (Y/N) and it gave her the courage to turn her back to him as she slowly wiggled her shorts down.

The growl that came from behind her made her grin slightly and she even dared to lean down, giving Bucky the perfect view of her ass. “Fuck…” A quiet curse as Bucky jumped up from the bed and hastily turned (Y/N) back around so he could press his lips against hers for a harsh kiss, walking her backward until her back hit a nearby wall before he grabbed her thighs and hoisted her up. (Y/N)’s legs wrapped themselves around his hips, a quiet moan left her as Bucky rutted against her.

He took two steps and sat her down on a dresser. (Y/N)’s breath got slightly uneven as he trailed one smooth metal finger down her throat and over the cups of her bra. “How about you show me what you hide behind this pretty little thing.”

A teasing smirk tugged at (Y/N)’s lips, causing Bucky to squint his eyes as he watched her every move. She slowly licked her lips as she reached behind herself to unclasp her bra with one hand, the other arm was crossed over her chest to shield her breasts from Bucky’s eyes as she threw the bra in his face. Bucky took the flimsy material and dropped it to the floor with a smirk.

“You enjoy teasing me, doll? Let’s see who can do better.” A devilish grin spread across his handsome face as he grabbed her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the dresser. He grabbed her jaw with one hand and pulled her in for a kiss.

The force made her gasp and Bucky took just that moment to press his tongue into her mouth. The hand, which didn’t grab her jaw, moved over her thigh to the place between her legs. A thumb rubbed over the wet patch on her panties, a faint whimper left her lips as Bucky pressed harder against her clit.

Her arm fell from her chest to wrap around Bucky’s neck instead as he began to draw circles on her clit. A grin erupted on his face as she softly whimpered his name. He bit her lower lip and pressed harder against the bud between her thighs. “Jesus, doll, you are already so wet.”

“How about we get rid of this annoying piece of silk?” (Y/N) nodded in agreement and raised her hips so Bucky could take off her panties and drop them to the floor. “Now spread those pretty legs.” It took barely a second for her to obey his command, a flush rising in her face as Bucky’s eyes fell to her pussy.

“Look at this …” His voice was breathy as he studied her. His fingers found their way back between her legs, spreading her lips to get better access to her clit. Without her panties as a barrier, his actions felt even more intense, intense enough for (Y/N) to squeeze her legs with a whimper as he began circling her clit.

“Oh no, babydoll, leave your legs open.” Bucky spread her legs again and stepped further between them to prevent her from closing them. After only a few seconds of paying close attention to her clit, his fingers dropped down, teasing her hole with two digits. (Y/N)’s hips bucked in his direction, trying to get him to fill her but he only pushed the tip of one of his fingers in before he pulled out again. He did this a few times more up to the point where (Y/N) was practically sobbing with need.

Bucky’s face was pressed into her neck, leaving kisses and bites there as he listened to her ragged breaths and sobs. He groaned when (Y/N) tangled her hands in his hair and pulled his head away so she could press her forehead against his. “Please…” A cocky smirk grew on Bucky’s face at her plead. “Please, what?” (Y/N) sobbed again. Of course, he would make her say it. “I… I need you… please.”

“You need me?” She nodded. “What do you need me to do?” Bucky’s grin grew as he watched the desperate expression on her face. “Do you want me to make you cum? Want me to fuck you with my fingers?”

(Y/N) whined needily as her hips bucked and she nodded frantically. “Yes… please… make me cum, please.” Bucky’s grin didn’t fade. He pressed his lips against hers to swallow her moan as he pushed two of his fingers into her at once, immediately crocking them against her g-spot as if he did it a million times before.

(Y/N)’s nails bore into the flesh of his neck as he started to move his fingers, immediately setting a ruthless pace. She had to break the kiss, moan after moan tore out of her throat as he hit her spot with every of his thrust. His palm rubbed perfectly against her clit.

He kept his forehead pressed against hers, watching every change of expression on her face as he brought her closer and closer to her release. “Fuck…fuck…” Curses paired with pornographic moans that would put any porn star to shame filled the room. (Y/N)’s eyes closed but she ripped them open again as Bucky wrapped his metal hand in her hair and gave it a tug. “Don’t close your eyes.” His voice was breathy but still held a dangerous edge.

(Y/N) started to tremble, thighs twitching and toes curling. She was almost there; she could practically taste it. Unfortunately for (Y/N), Bucky could feel it too as her walls began to clench around his digits. Since he wasn’t ready to let her cum just yet, he pulled his fingers out just as she was about to tumble over the edge, a devilish smirk on his lips as she whined disappointed. “You didn’t think I would let you cum now, did you?”

(Y/N) slumped down against the wall behind her, chest heaving with every breath she took. For a moment, she pondered if she should punch him right into his handsome face but this thought was soon interrupted as he lifted his hand, completely drenched in her juices. Bucky kept his eyes on hers as he sucked one of his fingers into his mouth, groaning at the taste. (Y/N)’s mouth was slightly opened as she watched him in awe. “You are so delicious, babydoll. Taste yourself.” He held his hand out for her and once again grinned as she gripped his wrist. The grin fell from his face and a groan left his lips when (Y/N) licked a broad stripe up the back of his hand to his finger, she circled the tip with her tongue and moaned before she sucked his digit into her mouth.

“You are such a little tease.” His words resembled a growl. Bucky gripped her throat and kissed her hard as he gripped the back of her knees and wrapped her legs around his waist before he lifted her up. He never broke the kiss as he walked her over to the bed and as his knees hit the edge, he dropped her on the mattress.

(Y/N) crawled backwards until she lay in the middle of the bed. She bit her lip as she watched how Bucky pulled his shirt over his head. Like in the gym, her eyes dropped to his abdomen and wandered up to his chest as she admired the way his muscles worked under his skin. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on him!

Bucky loosened the strings on his sweatpants before he dropped them and kicked them to the side. So he went commando? Interesting. A lump formed in (Y/N)’s throat as he crawled up the bed; he looked like a predator as he settled between her legs. He pressed a hard kiss to her lips and pinned her hands above her head as she tried to touch him.

She whimpered and tried to free her hands but Bucky’s grip was unrelenting and he only grinned at her weak attempts. “Is there something you want?”

“I want to touch you. Please Buck.” Again, she tried to wiggle her hands free but Bucky only tightened his grip on her. “Oh, I don’t know babydoll… ‘m not sure if you deserve this after all the teasing.”

“Please, Bucky. I’ll do everything you want, just… just please, let me touch you.” (Y/N) knew she was begging and she would surely be embarrassed about it the next morning but in this moment, she didn’t give a fuck. She just wanted to touch him just like she always imagined.

“I love how you beg, babydoll, makes me want to explode. Keep going and maybe I will grant you your wish.” Bucky’s face was buried in her neck to mark her up more as he rutted against her, soaking his achingly hard cock in her juices. (Y/N)’s hips bucked upwards as his cock dragged over her clit, it sent electricity shooting through her.

“Bucky… James, please, I…” She was interrupted by a loud groan from the men above her. Apparently, the mention of his real name did something to him and (Y/N) used this new knowledge and pressed her lips against his ear as she whispered needily. “James, please. I need you… please fuck me.”

Another groan left him. He wanted to tease her a little more, but simultaneously he really wanted to be inside of her. His need to feel her was stronger, and he plunged into her with one hard stroke. Both of them moaned at the tight fit, (Y/N)’s back arched upwards as her mouth shaped a perfect O, eyes shut and head thrown back.

“Such. A. Fucking. Tease.” Bucky grunted those words into her neck as he punctuated every one of them with a sharp thrust of his hips, not giving her time to adjust as she writhed underneath him.

(Y/N) wrapped her legs around his lower back as he pounded into her. Every time he hit her G-spot, which he did with surprising precision, a mixture of breathless groans and swear words left her mouth. She felt full, so full that she thought Bucky would tear her apart as he set a relentless pace, still holding her hand above her head.

“James, please…. let me touch you.” A deep growl hit her ear at her request but Bucky complied her wish and freed her hand from his grip. (Y/N)’s hands went immediately to his body, stroking over every inch of skin she could reach. The feeling of his working muscles somehow turned her on even more.

After a few more hard thrusts, Bucky leaned up on his knees and gripped her hips with both of his hands, angling her hips upward so he could hit her special spot with every of his sharp thrusts. (Y/N) whined at the loss of skin contact and took matters into her own hands now. She waited way too long for this to be denied of what she craved.

With one fluid movement, she flipped him over onto his back and straddled him, a little grin on her face at the slightly shocked expression on his face. (Y/N) grabbed his cock and sunk down him again, moaning breathlessly as he filled her again and just as she wanted to start moving again, Bucky sat up and wrapped her hair around one of his hands, tugging her head back with a grin of his own.

“Would you look at this… my little babygirl likes to be in charge, huh? Fine. Show me what you got.” He dropped back on the mattress and leaned on his elbows as he watched his cock filling her up over and over and gosh… he could have exploded right then. The way her pussy hungrily swallowed every inch of his cock made him dizzy with desire.

(Y/N) set a slow and steady pace, too slow for Bucky’s liking. He needed more, faster, harder. He slapped her ass with his metal hand causing (Y/N)’s thrusts to stutter as she moaned loudly and steadied herself on his chest. “That’s it? Come on, babygirl. You can do better. That’s what you wanted all this time, isn’t it? Show me.”

(Y/N) whined at his words and rearranged her position before she started to bounce on top of him in earnest. Skin slapping against skin echoed through the room as she slammed harder and harder down on him, forcing groans out of his smirking mouth. “I knew you can do better. That’s it. Ride my dick.”

His words sent shivers down her spine; her nails bore into his chest as she sped up even more. The release she chased since all this started, she could feel it. It wouldn’t take much longer and she would finally fall over the edge. Bucky’s words only pushed her further to her destination. “You look so good riding my dick, babygirl. Fuck… look at those tits. So beautiful.”

He sat up again and gripped her hips to help her guide her movements as her thrusts got sloppy. “You gonna cum? Yeah? I can feel it…” A breathy groan interrupted him as her walls clenched around his cock. “Fuck… You are so tight and wet. Made for me. Gonna fuck you every night from now on…”

“James…” (Y/N) tangled her hands in his hair and pressed her forehead against his. His words brought her dangerously close and her thrusts lost their rhythm, but luckily for her, Bucky was more than ready to take over again. His grip on her hips tightened as he bucked his hips up into her, hitting her spot constantly.

(Y/N) was a moaning, breathless mess on top of him. Her mouth opened as endless breathy whispers of his name left her lips, thighs twitching with her upcoming release. “Gonna cum for me, babygirl? Go on. Let go. Choke my cock.”

Bucky’s words were enough to push her over the edge. Her vision went blurry as a powerful orgasm raked through body, hands tugging harshly at Bucky’s hair as she trembled in his hold.

Bucky groaned animalistic as her walls clenched tightly around his cock. He wrapped his arms around her back and buried his face between her breasts, breathing heavily as he continued pumping up into her until it was too much for him and he came with a moan of her name.

They stayed like this for a few moments, trying to calm down enough to move again and when their senses came back to them, they shared a few kisses, slower and sweeter than those before now that the heat of the moment was gone. Bucky stroked her back as (Y/N)’s hands ran through his hair, tugging one more time on them. Another groan left Bucky’s lips at the feeling, cock twitching as it still was buried inside her sore pussy.

He mumbled against her lips after they broke the kiss. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish, babydoll.”

“What makes you think I can’t finish it?” (Y/N) grinned and tugged again, harder this time. “Oh, you’re in for it, doll. I can go the whole night.”

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