#cacw fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lizzie-is-here · 2 years

Text

like the dawn

part vii- the apartment

“where does memory end and love begin? all i know is- she loved him before she remembered him.” - ritika jyala

summary: you and bucky are on the run when the un gets bombed and pinned on him, but a certain idiot with a shield is determined to save you.

wordcount: 5.1k

warnings: violence, cussing, brainwashing, brief disassociation, memory loss, mentions of torture, civil war fix it fic time, me being too distracted by how hot sebastian stan is to focus on grammar

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll

a/n: yall this is mostly setup but it took so long so i’m sorry, 🥺. college has been wild so far istg but my math professor is gay and ranted about marshmallows for ten minutes so we stan him. anyway hope u enjoy love u lots 🤍🤍 go slay

previous part | series masterlist | next part

Being the most wanted people in the world while also not knowing who you were was no picnic.

After leaving Steve Rogers, healed but still hurting, on the banks of the Potomac, you and Bucky ran. After being forced to split up for a week while he snuck on planes and you cleared hundreds of miles by air, you reunited in London.

“This is… horrible,” you grumble, perched atop a roof as Winter, no, Bucky climbs up to join you. He nods before holding up a battered notebook.

“Next on the to-do list, we raid the base in Siberia.” You shiver, brief flashes of your time there surfacing. It was so strange relearning yourself. Your time as HYDRA’s scythe felt like a dream, like you’d really been sleeping the whole time.

Fighting away their brainwashing felt like fighting off fatigue—a losing battle.

“I know it’s not going to be fun, but there’s keys to our past there. We both remember that.” You know he’s right. And when neither of you remember much, you have to play the cards you were sure on.

Your wings flutter, tired and strained. Memories flicker in and out.

“(Y/N)?”

Who?

A hand touches your cheek and you jolt, eyes widening. The man in front of you stays steady.

“Hey, hey it’s me. It’s me, Bird.”

Bucky. Your brain catches up and a searing pain shoots through your head. He catches you as you curl in on yourself, making sure you stay quiet so as to not draw attention to the roof you’re camping on.

“Hey, hey doll, I lost you there for a second,” he murmurs. You take deep breaths, chuckling shakily.

The nickname tugs a buried memory to the surface. Countless girls he’d take on dates, the pet name eventually falling so casually from his lips when addressing you, his little habit rubbing off on Steve.

“Haven’t heard that in a while,” you quip, relaxing as the pain subsides.

He snorts. “What can I say? I’m old-fashioned.”

“Oh, shush.” You shove him, laughing freely. You’ll take every moment you can get. “Well, if we’ve got another journey ahead of us, we best get going.”

Bucky grabs his stolen backpack full of your and his notebooks, hoisting it effortlessly as he stands next to you. “Wouldn’t you rather get a car? You have to be tired from flying.” He’s right, you are. But you aren’t used to being given a choice.

He notices your hesitation. “(Y/N), you’re allowed to rest.”

You give in. “Yeah, a car would be nice.” You’ve both been reminding each other to not push your limits too far, but HYDRA’s training would be hard to break. One step at a time. “If I’m honest, if I fly much further, I think my wings will fall off.”

You both jump down from the roof, sneaking through the dimly-lit streets until you find an inconspicuous car. Bucky goes to hotwire it as you keep a watchful eye on your surroundings. He taps the hood to get your attention.

“Can you get me some light here?” Nodding, you lift a hand. You feel the energy move through your veins, tracing along them until a ball of warm light forms above your fingers. You carefully lower it to where he points, illuminating the mechanics.

“I’m glad this is of some use,” you mumble, effortlessly manipulating the light that doesn’t seem to quite obey physics. You’re still not sure whether to be amazed or repulsed by it.

Bucky, on the other hand, has his mind made up. Maybe it’s some sort of instinct or habit ingrained, but your powers offer a familiarity. A constant source of literal and metaphorical light over the past decades.

But he knows he’ll just sound like a hypocrite if he says anything (He hasn’t been particularly kind to himself or his metal prosthetic), so he finishes hotwiring the beat-up vehicle and opens your door for you.

New cars are so strange. They're sleek, streamlined. Some of them, “sports cars”, look even stranger. They have screens and buttons and heated seats, plus the seats are much better than what they were.

You climb into the backseat, lowering the passenger seat all the way, and feebly attempt to make yourself comfortable. There’s some awkward adjusting before you finally settle, but once you’re clear of the city, both of you relax.

It takes a few days of risky gas station stops and sleeping in the car before you decide to leg it, abandoning the car in favor of walking the last miles. The journey comes easily, and by the time you arrive at the base, you’re ready for whatever waits inside.

Or so you think. The door is closed, and a pin pad taunts you. But as if on autopilot, you punch in the code you don’t remember. It’s right. The door swings open.

Bucky tugs a gun from his jacket and you ready your powers.

“You ready?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he lies. “You?”

“Yeah.” You do the same. The halls are suspiciously quiet. There aren’t any wandering guards like you remember. No screams from other soldiers or bustling doctors.

It’s abandoned.

Pointing down a hallway, you and Bucky sneak around, unwilling to take risks. Especially when you’re already risking so much by coming back here for a few items. You finally make it to a storage room, and your eyes land on two boxes immediately.

They’re labeled as Sgt. James Barnes and Agent (Y/N) (L/N), to your pleasant surprise. Hurriedly snatching them up, you’re gone as quickly as you came, racing back to the car. You don’t dare view the contents. Not yet, at least.

It’s an hour later, driving along a snowy road, when you finally speak up.

“Where do we go?” You don’t even want to ask. You know what has to happen. Laying low, jumping from place to place every time you’re found out. You aren’t sure if you can live on the run, not to mention that you won’t be able to fly often, seeing how surveilled most cities are now.

“There’s a safe house in Romania,” Bucky says. ”Bucharest. It’s a good hiding spot. Plus, we could sneak you out every now and then for a fly.” You nod, watching the trees grow more and more crowded.

Even if it takes time, you know you’ll have to accept that you’re very lucky. And even if you’ll be stuck in some dingy apartment for the foreseeable future, it’ll give you time to piece your memory together.

Your history and all of your memories, contained in some cheap, leather-bound journals.

———————————————————————

That was almost a year ago. You and Bucky had set up a nice life in Bucharest.

You had a one-room apartment with a mattress, a couch, and some pots and pans. You’d even managed to get some houseplants that were thriving on the windowsill. You suspect your powers keep them healthy.

It wasn’t much. Most would look at it and scoff. But it’s undeniably and entirely yours. And that’s what matters.

You’ve spent a lot of time holed up. Your wings are too big for you to go out in the day, so you spend your time relearning old skills and putting together the pieces of your story.

In the boxes you brought back was your longbow, both of your dog tags, your original uniforms, and some pictures, plus one of your journals that you had brought along when you went awol. The items helped with your memories, providing tangible evidence of your past. You both always wear the dog tags.

Your life before HYDRA was still hazy. You remembered Steve and Bucky, their parents, your parents. Some of your time in school, though it was rather boring.

You remembered Steve constantly getting into fights and you and Bucky always saving his ass from men twice his size.

But mostly, you remember HYDRA. Years of training are stuck in your head. You know your way around every gun you can think of, you’re more proficient with a knife than a pen. Firing a bow is like breathing.

You speak over twenty languages. You can play instruments you never learned. And for some strange reason, you know how to make a mean caramel frappuccino.

After relearning how to properly clean your wings, something HYDRA did a rather shitty job of, you discovered they weren’t just black. Hints of other colors shone through in the light.

Purples, blues, greens, even some deep red. Something beautiful that had been kept from you.

True to his word, Bucky sneaks you out once every two weeks to a secluded area with no cameras, and watches you fly. He finds it absolutely amazing, even if he can’t put the words together to tell you.

What HYDRA did to him left him scarred. A gaudy prosthetic that was fused to his bones, constant radiating pain and scar tissue where metal met muscle.

But you, you were golden.

Even if you despised your enhancements some days, Bucky was in awe of them.

The way you healed his cuts when he tried cooking, how the lights would brighten and flicker when you laughed, the fact that you trusted him to carefully preen your wings when HYDRA had only treated them with carelessness.

Even if he knew what he was feeling, he shoved it down. That word wasn’t even in the question when you were in the situation you were in.

So he stays silent. He sits patiently on the couch as he waits for you to wake up. Today is grocery day. And even if you won’t get to go to the market, he doesn’t want you to wake up alone. That never ends well for either of you.

“Bird?” he asks. You used to be able to sleep through even the worst thunderstorms. The slightest of sounds wake you up now. You shuffle, yawning and lazily sitting up.

“Hey,” you mumble. The mattress creaks and groans as you stand up, peeking at the windows covered in newspaper. “You’re heading out?”

He nods. He tugs on a jacket and a baseball cap before holding his arms out. You hug him like you do every time he goes out; like it’s the last time you’ll see him.

Bucky promises to be back soon and hurries from the building before your neighbor, a nosy old woman, gets up to check her mail. Left to your own devices, you start getting ready.

A few feathers are a bit unruly, so you take a moment to preen them, carefully rearranging them and swiping away dust. There are a few you can’t reach, but you’ll ask Bucky to get them later.

You tug on some clothes that you’ve modified to work around your wings and brush your teeth. Just as you rinse the brush and go to fold your blanket, you hear a noise outside the door.

It doesn’t sound like Bucky. Silently grabbing a tactical knife hidden in the couch, you hide behind the door. Some clicking. The lock being picked.

The door swings open. Staying hidden, you watch a man beeline for one of Bucky’s journals atop the fridge. He flips through it. You don’t notice the shield at his side, too focused on, one: how this man got into your home, and two: how to get him out.

Taking the opportunity, you strike, slamming him against the wall and pushing the knife up against his throat.

It’s only when you meet his eyes that you recognize him. Still, you don’t quite let up.

“What are you doing here?” you demand. “How did you find me?”

Steve holds up his hands, slowly removing his shield and setting it on the ground. “Do you know who I am?”

Of course you know. How couldn’t you?

“Answer my question, Steve,” you spit. Both of you know that you won’t hurt him. But he’s still in your safe house, going through your shit.

“Bucky’s in danger.” That’s all he has to say before you release him.

“What?” Tucking the knife in your pocket, you begin to rummage around the room. You throw on some shoes and gather up the journals before stuffing them into an empty backpack and slinging both it and your bow over your shoulders. Meanwhile, Steve explains the situation.

The Accords, how he refused to sign. Peggy’s recent death. You had no idea she was still alive. Though you feel slightly guilty about not visiting, you aren’t sure she would have wanted to see you anyway. Not after you had participated in corrupting her organization.

Steve goes on to tell you about the bombing at a UN meeting, and how surveillance cameras caught the Winter Soldier leaving the scene.

“He didn’t do it,” you promise. The blond nods.

“Ok, but-”

“What are you doing here?” Bucky. He stands in the doorway, hands empty of groceries. When Steve fails to respond, he turns to you. “They think I bombed the UN, I don’t know what’s going on, but we need to get out of here.”

Steve shakes his head. “You won’t make it, they’ve surrounded the building.”

“I wasn’t in Vienna,” Bucky says. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“Well, the people who think you did are coming here now. And they’re not planning on taking you alive. Either of you.”

You nod. “That’s smart. Good strategy.” Your heart is racing. No matter how good you were, you wouldn’t be able to sneak out of this. Footsteps echo above you.

“Buck, (Y/N), this doesn’t have to end in a fight.” Always the optimist. It’s easy for him to say. He’s been a diplomat, a leader. You’ve been shadows and assassins.

Bucky voices what you’re thinking. “It always ends in a fight.”

“You pulled me from the river and healed me.” Steve’s getting impatient. “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

Flash bombs fly through the windows. You deflect one with a blast of light, while another bounces off of Steve’s shield. You hear soldiers attempting to batter down the door while Bucky grabs the mattress and uses it to shield you both from a rain of bullets.

You fling a metal table towards the door to stall, but more soldiers break in the windows. It’s a blur as gunfire and yelling fill the small room. A punch here, a dodge there. Bucky kicks a man off the balcony before Steve stops him.

“Buck, stop!” he shouts. “You’re gonna kill someone.”

The brunet flips him, punching a hole into the floor where you stashed away the other backpack. “I’m not gonna kill anyone.” Passing it to you, he nods out the broken windows. “Идти. Придерживайтесь плана [Go. Stick to the plan].”

You leap, trusting that your wings will carry you even if you haven’t flown in a while. They ache as you stretch, but you soar to the roof of the next building nonetheless.

Bucky comes flying out from the apartment building moments later, and you pass off the backpack as you begin to run. When you glance at the ground, however, you spot a shadow.

You blast the attacker back before they even land, only to spot a man in what looked like a black… cat costume? Bucky raced to attack him, exchanging blows before he was kicked backward into an electrical box.

Alright, this guy was an issue. The bigger issue was the helicopter firing round after round at you. The man who had helped Steve, the Falcon, takes it out with little trouble, allowing you and Bucky to leap down.

You fly but stay close enough to help, grabbing his hand and diving down into a tunnel to avoid more gunfire. Cars swerve around you.

Once more you run in tandem, with you using your wings to boost your already-enhanced speed. The cat man follows, as does Steve.

Sirens wail through the tunnel while Bucky leaps over cars, never slowing down.

“Motorcycle,” you warn him. In one motion, he grabs the bike while you safely land the driver, before hopping on and speeding off. Now that he’s more mobile, you take to the air again, maneuvering expertly in the tight space.

You stay a bit behind, blasting at police cars that get too close. The light does little but distract them, slowing them down enough to put space in between you. You swerve to the side just as the cat man jumps at you, and he and Bucky begin to fight while speeding at 40 mph.

“Take the roof out!” he yells once he kicks him away. The moment he's out, you do just that, tossing an explosive onto a weak spot on the concrete. It crumbles, but the man in the cat suit is tossed forward and slashes the back tire of the motorcycle.

You’re ready to fire off a blast of light that won’t be so harmless, but he’s tackled away by Steve. You help Bucky up as police cars surround you. No exits. They’ve got the skies covered too.

A man in a silver suit descends from above. You spot heavy artillery.

“Stand down, now,” he demands. Shit.

Bucky reaches an arm out in front of you while Steve does the same for him, as if you’re back saving the latter from some bully and not definitely getting put in prison for countless felonies.

“Congratulations, Cap,” the man says. “You’re a criminal.”

The soldiers grab Bucky first, harshly pushing him onto the ground. You’re about to protest when they do the same to you, grabbing at your wings to keep you from flying off. You wince but sink to the ground anyway.

So much for a safe house.

———————————————————————

You were shoved in a glass cage, which was then shoved in an armored vehicle. Never mind the sturdy metal cuffs clamped on your wrists, ankles, and shoulders.

When they rolled you out, it was in a different building. You see a similar cage and a familiar mess of unwashed brown hair in front of you, plus a dejected-looking blond Captain to your left, and groan inwardly.

You get placed into the same room as Bucky, to your surprise. They don’t tell you what’s going on or what will happen.

After maybe five minutes, a small man walks in. He has a briefcase that seems stuffed full, but he only pulls out a few files. Psychological evaluation.

He turns to Bucky first, then you. “Your first name is James? And (Y/N)?” No response. “I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?”

Seeing as he’s the one being accused, they’re more interested in him. And his lack of responses. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.”

“My name is Bucky.”

A sliver of a smile makes its way onto your face, even if you know the cameras caught it.

“Tell me, Bucky. You’ve seen a great deal, haven’t you?”

He only deadpans. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

You frown, but not because of his words. The doctor’s questions… he’s purposely testing you both.

“You fear that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry. We only have to talk about one.” In an instant, the lights go out.

You speak up. “What the hell is this?”

“Why don’t we discuss your home?” he says to both of you. “Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no.” Reaching into his bag, he retrieves a book you hoped was long burned.

“I mean your real home.”

It’s like watching a nightmare unfold. Because for all of the horrible things you saw in HYDRA, you never had to watch this. The trigger words.

“Желание [Longing].”

Bucky’s voice is shaking as you try to break out of the cuffs.

“No.”

“Ржавый [Rusted].”

“Shut up!” you yell, hands glowing as you try to overheat the mechanism locking you in place. But all you do is nearly burn yourself. Even if you can withstand the heat of your own powers, glowing metal isn’t in the question. Instead, you try to fire a beam at the glass. A tiny crack forms.

“Семнадцать [Seventeen].” You hear a whir. His metal arm. He’s just as desperate as you are.

“Stop,” he pleads. You shoot blast after blast, trying to shut it out once Bucky starts screaming in pure frustration and fear.

“Рассвет [Daybreak],” the doctor spits, rolling the word on his tongue. The words are clearly practiced, not known.

The metal cuffs finally snap under Bucky’s strength and he immediately begins punching the glass. The doctor never stops. “Печь [Furnace].”

Your attempts at escape are pointless. This cage is too well-designed and your strength is draining with every trigger word said. Partially because you have to watch Bucky succumb to the Winter Soldier, but also because you know it’ll be your turn next.

When the door flies from the cage next to you, and the man stands up, you recognize the Soldier instantly. “Солдат [Soldier]?”

“Я готов отвечать [Ready to comply].” The doctor nods in satisfaction and flips to a new page. He shines his flashlight towards you, frowning as it flickers wildly.

“Свет [Light],” he begins. Something inside of you awakens.

Each trigger word was chosen specifically and through testing, It took months to find just the right combination of words that destroyed your mind.

“Небо [Sky], прирост [growth], начало [dawn], восемнадцать [eighteen].” You scream as you feel your consciousness slipping. Your memory grows fuzzier with each second. The worst part may be watching the Winter Soldier’s face twist in concern. Even in this state, he knows you.

“Душа [Soul], девять [nine], испытующий [searching], один [one]...”

It hurts so badly to hold on and fight the brainwashing. And as much as you don’t want to give in, this was never a fair fight. With the last word, you let go.

“Ущелье [Ravine].”

The first thing you do is assess the area. Wherever it is you’ve been brought seems high-risk. Cameras are down, and you’re stuck in a cage.

Charging up a powerful blast with no regard to the discomfort it brings you, you burst through the cuffs restraining you and the ballistic glass. The shards cover the ground, reflecting the red lights that flash intermittently.

The man in front of you grins, tucking a book under his arm.

“Mission report. December 16, 1991.”

———————————————————————

Steve’s stomach only sinks as he passes the bodies piled in the hall. When he finally gets to the containment room, he spots two empty cages and the “doctor” on the floor.

He wrestles him to his feet, demanding answers with none of his usual diplomacy.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

The man chuckles. “To see an empire fall.”

Sam’s just entering the room when the Winter Soldier strikes, knocking out a chunk of concrete from the wall. You emerge from the shadows, grabbing the man and flinging him at the cages.

The Captain goes for the Soldier first, swinging in wide arcs. When he manages to knock him over, you step in, your hand straining as you charge up a ball of energy. The blond holds a hand out as if to calm you, but you ignore it.

You fire smaller rays all while feeling the one in your left hand grow more erratic. When he’s backed up against an elevator, you strike.

A powerful blast sends the Captain blasting through the elevator door and down the shaft. Satisfied, you go back for your partner.

You and the Winter Soldier eventually make it to a dining area of the building. Some guards swarm in, but without your memory, any qualms you had about hurting people are long gone. You don’t care who lives or dies so long as you escape.

A deafening sound rings through the air and you both wince, turning to see the source when a man flashes a disorienting light. Two could play that game. You return the favor as the Soldier grabs his gun, barely missing and being quickly disarmed. He kicks him back with little effort, and the smaller man flies into a chair.

A blonde woman rushes up next, followed by a redhead. She seems familiar, but you can’t remember where from. Either way, they’re both taken out with little effort.

And then a new man appears. He moves in a way that tells you he isn’t quite human, and when he leaps a railing to catch up to you and the Soldier, your suspicions are confirmed. They’re tumbling down the stairs before either one wins, but the Winter Soldier is gone just as quickly as you are.

Flying around walkways and crashing through glass, you reach the helipad in seconds flat. After climbing in and starting it, the Soldier emerges from another door, joining you and taking the pilot’s seat.

You don’t get ten feet off the ground before something tugs the helicopter down. The Captain, somehow relatively undamaged from his fall earlier. The Soldier presses the controls, fighting the enhanced strength of the annoyingly stubborn man.

But the blond manages to still the helicopter anyway. You and the brunet exchange a silent conversation, and you grab onto a handle just as he dives the helicopter towards the man. The whole thing crashes sideways, but the Captain still rises.

Fine. Just as he leans to peek inside, the Winter Soldier punches through the glass and locks his hand around his throat. However, due to the sudden movement, the helicopter tips backwards.

You try to grab the Soldier, but you’re thrown back and hit your head as the helicopter hits the water. Disoriented and with your wings suddenly soaked, you struggle to find your way out. The Soldier gets pulled away from you as you reach for him, and before you can react a hand reaches out to you.

As your vision goes dark, you take it.

———————————————————————

When you come to, you go into high alert. The last thing you remember, the doctor had begun reciting your trigger words, and now… Where were you?

Scanning the room, you come to the conclusion that it was a mechanic’s garage, long abandoned with some old equipment left behind. To your left, Bucky is still passed out. You aren’t surprised that you were awake first; your powers keep you from staying down for longer than an hour.

You have handcuffs on, while his metal arm is stuck between a large piece of machinery, tightly clamped. While the room you both are in is empty, you know you aren’t alone. There aren’t any cameras, yet you can tell that you’re being watched.

But when you try to stretch your wings, you’re met with a painful resistance. You’d felt the discomfort, but you assumed that it was just from the cramped cage. This is different, though. Your wings are tied.

Grunting from the pain and rope digging into the limbs, you try to relax as you take calming breaths. The rope chafes against the skin, scratching it even at the slightest of touches.

“Do you know who you are?”

You look up. Steve. And the Falcon. The latter asked the question, arms crossed over his chest as he lingers further back than the former.

“I’m (Y/N) (L/N),” you say. He and Steve exchange a glance, then he gestures for you to prove it. “I used to share an apartment with you two.” You nod to Bucky. “I had a tin of tea stashed behind your medicine, and our spare key was always under a random rock on the porch,” you chuckle. “Don’ know how no one ever broke in.”

Steve smiles. “Good to see you again, (Y/N).” You offer a weak smile, hissing in pain when you move wrong and the rope drags a bit too hard. He rushes forward immediately, kneeling next to you and untying the rope.

“Are you okay?” You nod as he drops the rope away. Your wings unfurl, healing the small scratches as you relax. As he removes the cuffs, the Falcon frowns.

“Look, not to seem rude, but we’re supposed to just trust you now? You just broke out of a government building with no reservations about dropping bodies,” he says. So that’s what happened. Standing, you ignore the creeping guilt and extend a hand to him.

“I’m not asking you to trust me,” you say. “I don’t really trust me. But I want to fix the damage I did. And if Steve trusts you to help do that, I trust you.” His gaze softens, and he reluctantly shakes your hand.

“Guess all you old people are good with speeches, huh?” You lightly laugh. He nods. “I’m Sam.”

“(Y/N).”

Steve glances at Bucky. “Could you wake him up? I think he’ll react better if it’s you.”

Holding up a hand and letting power dance on your fingertips, you nod. “I can do better than that.” You touch his forehead, focusing on mending the wound still dripping blood from his temple. He has bruises that you heal with a single thought, and the other two can’t help but gape.

“That’s something,” Sam says, watching the brunet slowly blink awake. He groans weakly as you help him sit up, gently running a hand over his back.

“Steve,” he mumbles.

The blond, as much as he wants to trust him as well, knows he has to take precautions. “Which Bucky am I talking to?”

Similar to you, he begins listing off memories the two of you pieced together in your small Bucharest apartment. “Your mom’s name was Sarah. You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.”

“Can’t read that in a museum,” Steve says. Sam shrugs, still finding it hard to believe how easily the Captain is trusting. He supposes your history together is affecting him.

Bucky sighs. “What did we do?”

“Enough.”

“We knew this would happen,” you mutter. “Everything HYDRA put inside us is still there. All that doctor had to do was say the fucking words.”

“Who was he?” Steve asks. When neither of you come up with a name, he applies some pressure. “People are dead. The bombing, the setup, the doctor did all that just to get ten minutes with you. I need you to do better than ‘I don’t know’.”

Bucky thinks for a moment. “He wanted to know about Siberia. Where we were… kept.”

He explains the other super soldiers, how skilled and organized they were. Even if you and him were HYDRA’s scythe and fist, they were their bullets. You performed assassinations. Sent messages. They took down HYDRA’s enemies for pure power.

After he finishes, you begin to free his metal arm while Sam and Steve discuss. You notice him zoning out before tapping his arm.

“Hey. We’ll fix this,” you promise.

“I don’t know if we can,” Bucky whispers.

It’s hard to argue with that. What you’ve done, the blood on your hands, it’s not the kind you atone for. “Then we make amends. All that matters is we’re together now, right?”

He nods. “Right. Now, instead of running from the government, we get to see if Steve will forgive us for 70 years of war crimes,” he snarks.

You roll your eyes. 70 years of torture and experimentation, and he was already back to sassing your best friend.

“It’s Steve. He was committing crimes long before we were.”

197 notes · View notes

if-you-onlyknew · 2 years

Text

My Baby Shot Me Down

Written by @katiekinswrites + @if-you-onlyknew

Chapter Update - Read Chapter 14

Preview:

She chose to risk it all and run with him and Bucky still continued to push her away.

Maggie took in a shaky breath as she stood up from her seat. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” She walked away from the small table. “ I decide what I want to do with my life. I choose. And I chose you!” Maggie felt delirious. “I keep choosing you but you’re constantly pushing me away or leaving me and I — I just, you know what? I’ll give you what you want.”

She grabbed a coat and walked towards the door.

Bucky dropped his hands to his lap as he watched her walk away. His mouth was hanging open a little at her words. He knew he’d been out of practice with women but it was like he had no idea how to properly communicate feelings!

“You want me to go be a doctor? To fall in love with Steve? To forget you — that’s what you fucking want? For me to hate you?” It was all rhetorical, of course. “You want me gone — I’m gone.” She reached for the doorknob.

Bucky was shaking his head before she finished speaking. None of that was what he wanted—except for her becoming a doctor; he wanted that because it was her dream!

Before the door could be opened, a hand slammed flat against the wood, holding it shut. Bucky looked down as he loomed over Maggie. The expression in his eyes was thick. He had no idea how to express what he was feeling inside. In fact, at the rate he was going, he was certain he’d just continue to fuck everything up like usual. But seeing Maggie so distraught wasn’t going to stand.

“I’m not saying this right,” he told her in frustration, his voice thick and low as he tried to keep himself from jumping her. His left hand balled into a fist low at his side as he restrained himself from touching her. Bucky wanted to push her against the door and show her physically how he felt, but that seemed wrong despite his tendency to get violent when provoked.

Her eyes were hard, narrowed at Bucky as he trapped her in place. She was trying her hardest not to let the tears that were building in the back of her eyes out — too stubborn to let Bucky see her cry right now.

#fic: my baby shot me down #muse: bucky barnes x maggie hastings #mcu au #marvel fic #bucky barnes #oc: maggie hastings #captain america: civil war #cacw fic

14 notes · View notes

soliloquent-stark · 3 months

Text

why do blorbos always look so good when they're beaten up. whump whump.

chris evans in captain america: civil war (2016)

#i could make a very long compilation of scenes showing a bloody steve looking all—in my opinion—debauched #it's all the sub!steve with a pain kink fics i've been reading i'm sorry #clock the choking 🤭#steve rogers #steve rogers gif #chris evans #captain america #captain america gif #cacw #mcu gif #steve my darling #gifs by soliloquent #mcu

258 notes · View notes

delicatebarness · 3 months

Text

bring him home | chapter one

Summary: It’s been three weeks since she lost almost everything. Her brothers, her best friend, her lover, her father.

Warning: MCU Spoilers. Avengers: Endgame + Captain America: Civil War. Violence. Grief. A Single Mention of Nudity.

Word Count: 1334

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: I’m really enjoying writing this, I haven’t wrote this much so quick in years.

Tags: @crazyforbarnes | @whiminiferous | @armystay89 | @bucky-just-needs-love

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED OR PUBLISHED TO ANY THIRD PARTY SITE OR APP. IF ANYONE SEES MY WORK ANYWHERE BUT HERE, IT HAS BEEN REPOSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

Three Weeks.

“Dad?!” You ran towards the ship that landed in your back garden, your dad stood there with Pepper in his fragile arms. He lifted his head, a sigh of relief as he watched you getting closer. His little girl is safe. “Where’s Pete?” His expression changed within an instant, he scanned every inch of your face for a sign. Your eyes were red and puffy. Your face is slimmer than when he last saw you. Thankfully, not as slim as he had gotten. He watched your eyes flickering between the ship, himself and Nebula. He knew you’d already lost one brother, now, he’s witnessing your realisation of losing the other.

“I’m sorry, kid.” He whimpered as your eyes began to tear up as you looked into his own. Within a second, Steve had you nestled into his chest. Not another one, you didn’t think your mind or body could handle any more grief. As soon as your face hit Steves's chest and your body collapsed in his arms, for what felt like the millionth time in three weeks, you let out an uncontrollable scream. Your knees gave way, Steve did not let you fall. Instead, he lifted you and carried you back to your room in the compound.

Once in your room, Steve lay you down on your bed. He didn’t want to leave you, he had watched you grow up since you were 16, from a smart teenager with more compassion than himself at times. To, a resourceful, understanding young woman. He wanted to protect you more now than ever. Shield you away so nothing more could hurt you. Your dad felt the same, it was painful for him to watch Steve carry you to your room instead of him. His weak frame makes it difficult to keep himself up, never mind you.

Your room was like any other basic grey bedroom at the compound. However, you had Vision help you drape fairy lights and ivy all over the walls. Polaroids attached to the strings with clothing pegs, and images of you with various team members looking down at you. Over the last three weeks, if you weren’t crying, you were looking over all these photos. Remembering each loved one as they were and hoping you’ll see them again.

It broke your heart for years that you were never able to add your joyful times with Bucky to your walls. Those were kept in a locked box inside your wardrobe. Polaroids of cuddles in a hut, Bucky throwing around hay with only one arm, even a few x-rated ones which you hoped to Odin no one else ever saw. They were all of Bucky, the ones of yourself were kept with him in Wakanda. And, then there were your letters. There have been a few nights since they all vanished that you’ve fallen asleep surrounded by his handwriting.

Steve stayed with you until your sobs had stopped and you cried yourself to sleep. You didn’t hear him leave, your dreams clouded with memories. Memories of Bucky. Even in your sleep, you could not hide your love and grief for him.

Meet Cute.

You sat in the office watching over the security cameras with Steve, not believing they were treating another human this way. He was locked within a box, strapped down. All he had was a table and a chair in front of it. And, it wasn’t even for him to use. Some interrogator was sat there, asking him questions about his home. You were listening to everything.

You rose to your feet when the power went out, following Steve and Sam to find Bucky. Ignoring your dad's yelling. You started to believe Steve’s theory regarding someone framing his friend. Yes, they say ‘Why did he run if he's innocent?’ But, wouldn’t anyone run if they had someone in a blue soldier uniform with an indestructible shield, someone in a bulletproof catsuit and a guy flying around with mechanical wings chasing them? You knew you would. And, you were someone who had an outfit fitting to that scenario.

His head turns, Bucky or The Winter Soldier you weren’t sure who made direct eye contact with you. Your breath hitched as he dropped the guard currently in a chokehold and made his way towards you. You didn’t move. A hand came up to your throat, pinning you against the wall, tightening by the second. You noticed he hadn’t used his left arm, the silver metal never once touched your skin.

“James? Sorry, I-I know you like to be called B-Bucky but I don’t feel like I know y-you well enough.” You shuttered as his grip grew tighter. “I’m Y/N,” Placing your bare hand onto his wrist against his bare skin, you felt the grip slackening. “I won’t hurt you.” His grip was almost light enough for you to find your feet on the ground again, until…

“Put her down.” Both of your heads turned to where the voice came from, your dad. Palm raised, repulsor ready. You mouthed “no” over and over to him, feeling the grip tighten the longer he stood there. Your dad hits Bucky with a stun-blast which in turn causes him to drop you to the floor. Covering your ears, you sat down with your legs pulled up covering your face. You felt a weight on top of you as another blast went off. Looking up, he was staring down at you as he covered you from your dad’s blasts. Becoming your human shield.

The blasting stopped, Bucky stood up and pounded towards your dad, throwing punches. Your dad blocked almost most of them. He gave as much as he got to.

“Get out of here now!” Your dad yelled at you. You didn’t have your suit, you were no match to The Winter Soldier, it was the safest option. You stood up, legs shaking, as you watched them fight. “Now! Y/N! Go!” He continued to yell as Bucky’s eyes once again found yours. You wanted to stay, something telling you he needed someone to stay.

But, you ran.

Cheeseburgers.

When you woke up, you pulled out your burner phone. You only had three numbers saved, Vision (Baby Brother), Wanda Maximoff (BFF), and James Buchanan Barnes (Old Man). Instinctually calling the number under the name “Old Man” you hoped the ringing would stop and you’d hear his voice. “Hey, Doll.” Nothing. You started to sob as the ringing continued.

You didn’t hear him opening your door and appearing through the gap, he watched you sobbing with the phone pressed against your cheek.

“Hey Kid,” he choked after a beat, snapping out of your trance and hanging the phone up. “Who are you calling?” You shake your head in response, you can’t break the Bucky news to him just yet.

“No one you need to be concerned about, Dad,” giving him a weak smile, he wouldn’t have been concerned, he would have been angry. His little girl, his legacy, is in love with the man who killed his parents and broke his team up. Where did he go so wrong? You got up and helped him further into your room. “How are you feeling?” You lay him on your bed, getting him comfy with all your pillows and throws.

“Oh, never been better,” he joked as he tried to lift himself. “You know, had a planet thrown at me then got stranded in space for three weeks.” You helped him position himself better before getting into your bed and cuddling up to your dad. You didn’t realise until right now just how much you missed him and his humour.

“I’m glad you’re home,” you squeezed his hand while giving him another weak smile. “It’s been far too quiet around here.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He smiled at you, squeezing your hand back, and then sighed. “We should order cheeseburgers.” You let yourself have a small laugh, for the first time in three weeks.

143 notes · View notes

sunnysideprincess · 2 months

Text

There is no one coming for Tony Stark, he gets that early enough.

Seven and being fed lines at gunpoint. Rescue doesn't come for days until the kidnappers grow sick of his weeping and leave him alone, giving him enough time to wiggle his way out through the vents.

Fourteen and sporting a broken limb, face marked black and blue. The man with a hook for right hand listens to Howard Stark's "we don't negotiate with terrorists" speech and comes back with a meat cutter, only to find a rigged smoke bomb and a vindictive teenager with a makeshift taser.

Twenty-one and Ty's filming him, his moaning and crying and the press has a field day dissecting the whore of a man the Stark heir has become.

Twenty-two and there's a bottle, or seven, and needles going into his arm, a broken piano and a shattered will. Tony Stark is a broken man.

But nobody comes.

Thirty-nine and he's under water, a hole in his chest and a car battery that's keeping his heart ticking. There's him and a dying old man. There's him and the suit and a torch of vengeance he carries out to the desert.

Forty and he has a time bomb in his chest—

Nobody comes.

He knows this.

Nobody ever comes.

Tony Stark is destined to die alone.

Forty-five and trapped inside a bunker, cold and frozen, held at gunpoint by wayward scientists and soldiers. His suit of armor is scrap metal. The numbness crawling over his chest.

Nobody's gonna come.

Rhodey's not awake.

Pepper's not aware.

Vision...

Nobody's coming on time.

Except, there's a knife and a scream and the blinds are ripped from his eyes with ferocious gentleness. There's ice and cold and storm-weathered eyes peering into his soul.

"How bad," Barnes asks him. But all Tony sees is a blood-soaked knife and scattered bodies. All he sees is Barnes and his bleeding rage coiled tight around his shoulders and Tony is a broken clock. He doesn't know what day it is. He can't guess because Barnes looks just the same as the day he last saw him.

"How long?"

"Too long," he hears when he stumbles into his rescuer's hold, shivering and weightless, disoriented and so, so confused.

Nobody should have come. Yet outside, there's an army. Slaughtered and thrown about. And Barnes walks unhurried, his arms secure around his cargo. A predator carrying his trophy for the hunt.

Nobody's supposed to come. But Barnes did.

Tony wonders why.

#tony stark #bucky barnes #pre winteriron #deb writes in between #post cacw #tw: child abuse #tw: drugs #pre slash #winteriron #starbucks #buckytony #fic #ficlet #mcu

90 notes · View notes

cybernetic-asset · 7 months

Text

You find some crumpled papers on the ground…

#just a fun little thing #might do more 🤔#ok to use #ok to interact #ok to reblog #A Soldier’s Log #Journal Entry #bucky barnes #winter soldier #Sins and Secrets #Whispered Echoes #Brock rumlow #Steve rogers #captain America #cacw #catws #fic #fanfic #writing

38 notes · View notes

espinosaurusrexex · 2 years

Text

Like Bonnie and Clyde

summary: Bonnie and Clyde got nothing on them. Sure, they do the same thing: rob people, maybe kill some on the way and get justice for those who actually need it. But their love for each other seems to make up for all the cruelties. And that’s what’s important, right? Taking time to seek out each other and make sure you’re okay... even if there is a little teasing involved.

a/n: this is plotless smut and I’m not sorry

word count: 2.7k

warnings: a little fluff, swearing, smut !MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

It wasn’t hard getting into his pants under the table. What was hard, however, was the thing that hid beneath them. Y/N smiled as her fingers grazed over the aching bulge in Bucky’s pants, a sudden cough ripped from his throat in an attempt to cover up the gasp at the contact of her cold hand with his hot crotch.

“Please tell me, how did you guys meet?” Tanja asked with her head resting on her hands, her eyes solely focused on the couple in front of her. She was already a couple of glasses in, which made it just that much easier to... multitask.

“Would you like to do the honors, babe?” Y/N looked up to Bucky, who had his eyes fixed on the ugly portrait on the wall behind Tanja. A pained smile sneaked on his features as he muttered an ‘Oh, please. You do it so well.’ through his teeth.

She nodded in response, the hand beneath the table squeezing him through his boxers in reassurance. This was a risky game, Bucky knew that, and Y/N knew it too. But, simultaneously, it was the very thing that made it so intriguing. Tanja didn’t have a clue, her eyes drowned in the haze the dry red had washed over her, totally lost in the made-up story Y/N scrambled together along the way. Her hand slipped past the elastic waistband of his boxers after a minute of talking absolute bullshit to the woman in front of them and when her fingers brushed over the swollen tip of his cock, Bucky had to grab the table.

“Everything okay?” She asked innocently, her gaze seeping through her lashes from beside him, sparkling in the yellow hues of the restaurant lights. But Bucky couldn’t focus on that right now. His entire energy went into keeping his composure while his dirtiest fantasies came true beneath the table.

“Yes.” That was all he was able to say as the pleasure crept up his veins, making his head all woozy and light. Y/N didn’t let up. Her hand pumped up and down his shaft as her thumb swiped over his slit every so often, creating a magical feeling in his pants. Her grip was just perfect on his pulsing dick and when she finished her story, she leaned over and placed a small kiss on his cheek.

“How are you holding up soldier?” She muttered so low he barely heard it. Her thumb brushed over him again, making his knee jolt up. The table rattled and Tanja’s glass tipped over.

“Oh my, everything okay, Bucky?” Bucky’s hand snapped under the table, stilling her wrist. He was dirty but he wasn’t that dirty. Bucky didn’t want to bust beneath the table. There were so many better places for that.

“No, I think something bit me.” He grumbled as he threw her hand back in Y/N’s lap and adjusted himself in his pants again. A quick glance at the clock next to the portrait. “You know what Tanja, it’s getting late, too. We should probably head home.” He stood up abruptly, got behind the chair to hide his strained pants, and scrambled a few bills from his pockets that he threw on the table. “It was so nice to meet you.” And then he pulled Y/N out of the restaurant with knitted brows.

❁ ❁ ❁

The wet concrete beneath their feet echoed with the hasty steps Bucky dragged Y/N in.

“What's going on?” She smirked. Her heels clicked in the puddles on the street. Y/N knew the answer. It was what she had anticipated ever since she had seen him in that black button-up hours ago. Her panties had been drenched since then, and she figured it was only fair to give Bucky a taste of his own medicine.

Bucky just huffed as his reflection sped through the store windows on the sidewalk. Across the street and barely missing the taxi that was honking ferociously at the pair now. If Y/N knew one thing, it was that Bucky was not a patient man. He was eager to get home and finished what she started, which was, without a doubt, what she had intended in the first place. But she still giggled as she watched her plan unfold in perfect execution.

Bucky wasn’t angry, Y/N knew that too. Tanja was a nobody. A small screw in the complex machine they had been trying to take down. And the dinner with her served much more as a distraction from all the hustle rather than an actual intel source.

Bucky’s grip was firm around her hand, his gloved fingers wrapping around it gently though. He wouldn’t let her go. He’d hold her until the motel room door was closed behind them and they finally had the air around them to themselves. Because even though Bucky didn’t look like it, he was a private lover. A damn cocky one, but privy nonetheless.

The keys rattled in his jacket pocket before he pushed them through the golden keyhole, a hidden smile pulling on his lips before he finally opened it. Y/N shut it after he had pulled her over the threshold. He let go for a second to remove his cloves and then his fingers were back on her again.

“Babe-” Y/N started but Bucky pushed her against the door. His vibranium arm pressed her wrists above her head, his voice was so low that the tremor send shivers down her spine.

“What were you trying back there, doll?” The deep blue of his eyes vanished behind the lust flashing over his pupils.

“Hmmm...” Y/N bit her lip as she pretended to think about her answer. When her gaze met his again she whispered seductively: “I’d call it revenge.”

Bucky traced her lips with his thumb, the soft flesh hot on his skin. As he mumbled an answer back. “You know it’s not my fault you get turned on so easily.” Bucky’s voice was calm, his posture relaxed and if Y/N weren’t so concentrated on his front pressing into hers, she’d caught the look of adoration laced in his features.

She knew it was there, it always was. Beneath the harsh stare and the furrowed brows. But she didn’t need that now. Y/n wanted the cocky, teasing, dominant Bucky. “Oh, it must be hard being so sexy that every woman melts at the sight of you.” She mocked with a daring smile on her face.

“So you agree?” He pestered back. Bucky knew this game all too well. That didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it still. It was fun - exciting. One of his favorite things to do with her, actually. A bonus on top of the badass, man-killing, justice-seeking girlfriend he already had in her.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Let’s see then, shall we?” Bucky licked his lips. His hand wandered between her legs, bunching up her dress with ease as his warm fingers grazed the soft flesh of her thighs.

His brows raised as the grin on his face grew. “Sweetheart, your pussy tells me something different.” His breath was hot on her lips. “And she doesn’t lie.”

Those words sent a shiver down her spine that settled in her stomach, his lips grazing hers with every word. “I guess you caught me,” Y/N whimpered when she felt his index finger pressing to her clit.

“Seems so.” He smirked. “What are we gonna do about that?”

A short silence filled the room as the pressure on her clit reached the point of aching. Hot breath fanning over dampened skin but Bucky didn’t move. He was waiting, his heartbeat slightly faster than normal when Y/N’s eyes met his again.

“You decide,” she breathed out. Bucky didn’t need to hear that twice. Within an instant he had her face pressed to the door, his hands working on her dress to finally free her ass and kneading the flesh once he finally did. Y/N huffed against the deep green paint of the door when his right landed on her ass cheek. This was what she had wanted, though the excitement in her chest made it feel like a surprise nonetheless.

Bucky kissed up her spine until his lips lingered right beneath her ear. “You could have just asked, you know?” He said as his hands cupped her breasts, his hard-on pressing to her ass and telling her just how excited he was. Another kiss was placed on her shoulder. “But you chose to embarrass me.” And another to her neck. “That’s kinda naughty.”

Her hips pushed back to his crotch, earning a grunt from the brunette and a tight squeeze of her tits. She couldn't help herself, she had to provoke him. It was a bad habit, but one that earned her a few orgasms every time she pursued it.

“Doll...”

“Tell me you don’t want this.” Oh, he wanted this. It was hot. But Bucky had planned on punishing her, and not the other way around. Still, there was something other than his brain doing the thinking right now.

“You know that would be a lie.” His face buried in the crook of her neck as he enjoyed the way her behind massaged his dick.

Just a second, he told himself before reclaiming control. And as he twitched in his pants, he decided it was enough. Bucky turned Y/N back around, watching as her chest rose in deep breaths and her eyes studied his movement with an innocent stare. Then he pulled her into his chest, crashing his lips to hers with hunger. The kiss was all tongue and teeth and hot, hot breath. The taste of red wine still lingered on her lips when his tongue traced the bottom before he walked backward and pulled her with him.

He reached down again, pulling the dress up and over her head. A husky ‘fuck’ left his lips at the sight of her breasts. He had seen them a hundred times before but that didn’t change the fact that they turned him on every time anew. He pushed her back on the bed and crawled next to her right after. Y/N’s entire body shook with the excitement of what was to come. There weren’t a lot of things the pair hadn’t tried and, quite frankly, she didn’t need anything new. She just needed him - right now.

Bucky’s lips found hers again as his vibranium hand traveled down her body, halting at her belly button to pull away for a split second. He admired her. No, really. He absolutely adored her precious face and he made sure to take his time doing it any chance he got. And while the frustration in Y/N began to boil, a slight spark within her body told her to wait - to let him do it.

He shook out of his trance when Y/N lifted her hips impatiently. And while the smirk began to sneak back onto his face, he waited for another second, just to see her close her eyes in a needy manner. Then his hand disappeared beneath the dark fabric covering her heat and Y/n moaned when the cold metal touched her where she needed it most. His fingers slit through her slick folds before coming back up to trace eights over her clit. Y/n jolted at the sudden pressure, her jaw hanging slack as the touch sent shivers to her head. Bucky kissed them away, his lips pillowy and warm against her prickled skin.

“Bucky!” She panted. Her arm snuck beneath his head to pull him closer to her face as his hand continued the assault on her pussy. Her breaths became staggered when she felt the familiar tension build up in her stomach, the edges of an orgasm tingling in her legs before Bucky retracted his hand - the pressure instantly lost and all that was left was the pulsing heartbeat in her core.

“Naughty girls don’t get to finish.” He placed another kiss on her throat. Bucky loved the scene unfolding before him. Y/N’s eyes sent daggers to his. But she couldn’t do anything about it. She was entirely at his mercy, willingly so.

Y/N squirmed uncomfortably. “Please,” she whined, still mourning the loss of pressure in her abdomen, which just sent another grin on Bucky’s face.

“Please what?” His eyebrows raised, fingertips aching to feel her skin again.

“Please touch me.” His cock twitched at the sight of her round eyes glazed over with the need for contact. But he wasn’t finished with the torture just yet. His hand hovered above her belly, the other slightly grazing her hair, ready to grip it tightly.

“Just please?” He moved back a little, feigning disappointment, but before he could go any further, Y/N raised her hand and placed it on his collar in a desperate attempt to pull him back in.

“Ok, ok! I’m sorry!” She knew he wouldn’t go and leave her hot and bothered like that. And even though she was sure that he would not be that cruel, she gave into the little game they had started this evening. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky nodded approvingly. His mouth reattached to her skin, tracing down to her breasts and swirling her erect nipples with his tongue. Y/N’s hand reached down to her pussy, desperately attempting to release some of the pressure forming again, but Bucky was faster than her.

“Nu-uh.” He grabbed her wrist and placed it above her head. “I’m not finished.”

A silent whimper was all he got as an answer before his hand replaced hers on the way down. This time he instantly pushed into her with two fingers, pumping in and out in painfully slow motions. Y/N’s bodily response was all he needed to confirm his skills as her back arched. His thumb found its way to her clit and skillfully rubbed circles with the motions his other two fingers dragged against her walls.

Y/N’s breath hitched. “Oh, God!” Her body felt like being on fire, the cold vibranium on her skin doing little to cool her down as the heat washed up and down her body.

“Just Bucky is fine,” he smiled against her nipple when the hand on his head pulled on his hair. He curled his fingers upwards to reach that spot.

“Shut- Fuck, YES!” The muscles in her abdomen squeezed his fingers as the pressure became almost too unbearable to uphold. But then he stopped again, feeling her walls relieve the pressure from his fingers once again.

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, keep going, please!” Bucky chuckled as she pressed his face into her tits, his hand picking up the motions from a second ago and the walls of her pussy began to flutter again. She was close now, squirming and shaking as his fingers went seemingly deeper and deeper with every thrust, the pressure on her clit in perfect tandem with every touch he received. She gripped him tightly, her body becoming rigid, but Y/N would wait until he told her to let go, though that seemed damn near impossible now.

Bucky kissed her cheek. “Learned your lesson now?”

“Yes, God yes!” The grip on his hair tightened, the knot in her stomach about to bust.

He nodded again, his nose nudging hers in the process. “You can come now.”

His thumb went on with the circular motions and as the pleasure exploded in her body, Y/N let out a high-pitched scream containing a somewhat resemblance to Bucky’s name. He rode her through her orgasm as he watched her face unfold in pleasure, his own body tingling at the sight.

When she opened her eyes again, glazed over by haze and mind seemingly lost in the feelings shooting through her veins, he kissed her again. Gentle and soft this time. His hand came up to cup her face. They looked in each other's eyes for a minute until she softly whispered against his skin.

“I love you, you know?” Y/N’s hand swiped a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear, her thumb lingered on his cheek for a moment longer.

“And you’re not just saying that because I can make you cum?”

“Hmm, this theory might require testing.”

Bucky smiled. “Seems so.” He kissed her once again.

“Just in case that wasn’t clear.” His hand stroked her bare shoulder. “I love you, too.” His lips wandered down her torso, his hands working on removing her panties.

“Oh, it’s clear.” She chuckled as her hands buried in his hair, pulling his head so he could look at her. Bucky placed another kiss on her belly, smiling on her skin.

“Good.”

Wanna be added to the taglist?

288 notes · View notes

glittercake · 5 months

Text

The way some people took that "i hate you" way out of context in cacw and wrote the most heinous offensive shit then called it "enemies to lovers" 😅

#been listening to a bunch of podfics and UHM post cacw was a terrible time lads #cant get through half these fics

22 notes · View notes

haveyoureadthisfanfic · 5 months

Text

Summary: When Tony went to the Parker household to recruit Spider-Man, he had no idea what he was signing up for. AU where Tony is Peter's biological father and neither of them know.

Author: @camelot-queen

#official fic poll #haveyoureadthisfic #pollblr #tumblr polls #fanfiction #fandom poll #fanfic #fandom culture #internet culture #i'm the satellite (and you're the sky)#mcu #spiderman #iron man #cacw

10 notes · View notes

lam-ila · 2 years

Text

Understand || Steve Rogers

i used the prompt “you've been in a fight, your lover has already gone to bed, without resolving it, but you still whisper 'i love you’ before crawling into bed, because it's something you always do before going to sleep, and this fight doesn't change anything bonus: your lover isn't actually asleep, and pulls you into their arms” from this prompt list. changed it a little but that’s okay

Summary: You and Steve got in a fight while making dinner

Word count: 995

Warnings: an argument, Steve’s kind of an ass

Maleeha’s Masterlist

a/n: this is gender neutral. hope you enjoy this! feedback is appreciated

thank you @2manytabsopen for talking with me about this fic. kesh is amazing and this fic would not exist if it wasn’t for her

LIKES ARE GREAT, REBLOGS ARE BETTER ♡

Dating an Avenger was difficult, but dating an Avenger who’s name was Steven Grant Rogers was way more difficult than dating any other Avenger. You loved Steve for many reasons, he was headstrong, determined, and he stood up for the things he believed to be true- even if standing up for it was illegal.

Since the beginning of your relationship with Steve, you both agreed that you would be open about whatever was on your minds, but after the fight with Ultron, Steve began to shut you out. You gave Steve some space for a few days after he came back from Sokovia since he normally was more distant after a big fight, but he continued to be distant. He was barely home, only staying to quietly eat and sleep. You did whatever you could do make him relax, mostly by cooking whatever he was in the mood for.

You kept this up for about a year, cooking, cleaning, and hardly talking to your boyfriend. After Rumlow blew himself up and Wanda deflected the blow into a nearby building, everything started to spiral out of control. The UN was preparing to pass the Sokovia Accords- which Steve was not wanting to sign-, the Avengers split up, Peggy passed away, all while Steve was trying to bring his best friend back from being brainwashed.

Steve was surprisingly home and spending time with you, cleaning up and washing the dishes while you cooked dinner. You were making grilled salmon, something you had made plenty of times before. There were no words being spoking between you two, the only exception being “excuse me” and “here you go”. Usually, cooking with Steve was fun and relaxing, but you had a million thoughts going through your head at once. You were worried about Steve, and your relationship with him. You didn’t want to admit it, but your relationship was deteriorating right before your eyes.

“You’re doing that wrong.” Steve said, snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked over at him, giving him a questioning look. “You need to add at least double the amount of pepper.” Glancing down to the bowl that held your spice mix, you re-assessed how much pepper you put in.

“No, I put in the right amount.” You corrected. “Don’t worry, I’ve made this dish thousands of times, I know how many spices to put in.”

“But that’s not the right-” Steve scoffed, cutting himself off. “Fine, I guess we’ll have bland salmon.”

“I put in one and a half teaspoons and that’s what the recipe says. If you want, you can check the recipe.” You reasoned. You studied his faces worriedly as he angrily glared at the spice mix. “Steve, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He harshly answered. “Why would something be wrong?” You hesitantly walked over to him, placing your hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at you.

“You’ve just been,” you paused, carefully thinking of the proper word to use. “distant.”

“Distant?” He pulled out of your comforting touch. “Of course I’ve been distant. My life is literally shattering before me.”

“Steve-”

“People are expecting me to do what’s right, but I don’t think signing the Accords is ‘what’s right’. I’m expected to be this perfect man, this perfect hero, but I’m not. I’m held up to unrealistic expectations and it’s taking a toll on me.”

“How can you say that?” You retorted, disbelief completely present in your voice.

“What?”

“How can you say that,” you repeated. “while you expect me to be the perfect partner.”

“What do you mean?”

“You expect me to cook, and clean, and comfort you, and say the right things at the right time.” You listed. “I know it’s cliché, but I need you to realize that no one is perfect. You don’t need to hold yourself and those around you to such high expectations.”

“But I need to be perfect. So does Tony, and Nat, and Sam, and everyone else. We’ve had to be perfect since the day we became the heros.”

“No.” you sighed. “You don’t have to be perfect.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand.” You pleaded.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Steve persisted.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not an Avenger or an ex-S.H.E.I.L.D. agent, you’re just some random civilian in the city!” Steve shouted, making you flinch. Not once had he yelled at you in the past. You saw no regret in his eyes, not even the realization of ‘oh my goodness, I just yelled at my partner for the first time’.

You hurried over to your shared room, too hurt to continue the argument or dinner at that point. You quickly shut and locked the door behind you, making sure Steve couldn’t follow you in. As Steve made his way to the door, you collapsed onto your bed, face planting into a pillow and beginning to cry.

Steve raised his fist, about to knock on the door, until he heard your sobs. He hurt you and that hurt him more than any injury he ever got from a mission.

He gave you the space you deserved and you unlocked the door after an hour and nine minutes of being in your room. About ten minutes later, he entered the room and noticed your seemingly asleep body.

Steve quietly got ready for bed, still not forgiving himself for what he did. He sat on the edge of his side of the bed, rubbing his hands over his face before lifting the covers and lying on his side. He faced you, but you faced away from him with your eyes open, pondering what he’d do next. He gently rested his arm on your body, taking a deep shaky breath before saying the three words he never went to sleep without saying to you.

“I love you.” He paused. “Please don’t forget that.”

You turned around, snuggled into his chest, and wrapped your arm around him. Steve tightened the embrace, kissing you gently on your lips.

——————————

Marvel taglist: @jostystyles @donttelltheelff @tysonjost-taylorsversion @2manytabsopen @calermakar08

join my taglist here

if you changed your url, please send an ask with your old url so i can update it

#maleeha writes #steve rogers#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #captain america: civil war #captain america civil war #cacw

176 notes · View notes