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real-jane · 2 years

Text

you don't say

[bucky barnes x disabled!reader]

summary: you matched on a dating app, but you didn't tell him that you use a cane. bucky's response is not what you expected. it's better.

warnings: mention of smut, but mostly fluff and insecurity on both bucky and reader's part. autumnal vibes all around.

a/n: i became disabled in the last few years and i have really struggled with needing a cane to increase my mobility, especially where dating is concerned. i wrote this as a love letter to myself, and other babes who are processing what it means to accept love as a disabled human being. enjoy. <3

***

You didn’t tell him.

If the last six were a good litmus, it was for the best. Apparently being that honest with a man you met on a dating app was to be avoided at all costs. The goal, ultimately, was to have him say: “You’re prettier in person,” and then flush like he was comparing the version of you in his head to the reality before him, and coming up wanting.

Bucky was his name. He hadn’t proposed anything rigorous–he liked coffee, as did you. It wasn’t like he suggested a Central Park marathon for your date. You weren’t even sure how you matched; it probably happened when you left your phone unattended in the same room as Natasha–whose taste was much more varied than yours. Adventurous. It’s not that you wouldn’t have swiped in interest over Bucky, 39, Brooklyn. But not until he swiped first.

That wasn’t entirely true. You remembered his face popping up as you doom-scrolled for Jesus, on a two day pajama pity-party bender. Consuming Norah Ephron films and cheap cabernet, you swiped right on any man with kind eyes who didn’t have a fish picture in his array. Which… the pickings were slim. But his face–Bucky’s–appeared beneath your thumb as Meg Ryan met Tom Hanks at the top of the Empire State Building on your third watch-through of ‘Sleepless in Seattle,’ and it felt serendipitous. Bucky, 39, Brooklyn looked very serious, and he had a white long-haired cat. You swiped. He swiped. He was nice in his first message…

Hi… I’m new to this, but it looks like we both hit the magic button.

So, there you were.

You arranged to meet at eleven–you were at the coffee shop by ten-thirty, so you could sit by the window and not have to walk towards him. You tucked yourself into the booth and stashed your things on the bench seat beside you, eager to meet the first guy who said yes to a date since you got back on the horse, so to speak. Nevermind that you hadn’t told him the whole truth.

When he walked in–ten minutes early–he scanned the little cafe until his eyes fell on you. His expression went from hardened and serious to… bashful, almost. He recognized you right away, and there was no way you could mistake him either.

What was that thing about people being prettier in person?

He was dressed in layers to combat Autumn in New York (comfortable in varying shades of blue and brown) with leather gloves on, which shone like they hadn’t yet been worn before that day. So like a native New Yorker to wear the same tattered coat… but quality, definitely an expensive peacoat which could last him several generations… but buy brand new gloves when the slightest chill sets in.

Bucky was scruffy, like he couldn’t quite bother to shave but every few days. You didn’t mind. When he approached, he had vibrant energy, like it was all packed up inside with nerves.

“Hi. Sorry. I think we had the same idea,” he said breathlessly as he approached. He held out his right hand to you. You grasped his fingers automatically, but he didn’t shake. He squeezed softly, and then pressed it between his own.

“It’s Bucky. I’ve already had coffee. Too much. I was nervous. But if you still want some, I’ll just get decaf.”

“Y/n. To be honest, I did the same,” you chuckled, nodding to the half-empty carafe on the table, which your waiter had left after the third refill in twenty minutes. “It’s nice to meet in person.”

“I don’t do this kinda thing, I gotta warn you.” Bucky shucked off his coat and slid into the booth across from you. The gloves remained. He had a loved but noble corduroy blazer on, over a henley. “Dating. I hate the whole conceit.”

“You’re two-for-two!” You grinned. “My roommate got me on the apps. They can be blamed for seventy-five percent of my daily dread.”

“What’s the other quarter?”

“Global warming, and getting shat on by pigeons coming out of the subway.”

“Fair,” he said, smiling. You dimpled at one another. “We don’t have to stay. We’re caffeinated, and I might start levitating, here. We could walk a bit?”

Your stomach lurched. “We could. Where?”

“Dunno. I’m sorry–I have no idea how to be out. We should just sit here for the requisite number of minutes before upsetting the structure of a date.” He smiled at you pleasantly, but it was clear how incredibly nervous he still was… and how unlikely it was to go away unless he could be more active. Which meant standing. Walking, some. Something which you were not prepared to do.

Bucky watched your expression shift. He sat forward and reached out to touch your forearm. “You okay?”

“So. Yes, um. Yes, I’m okay,” you sighed. “It’s still new for me so I’m figuring it out, but… walking long distances? Can’t do it. I could probably handle a short walk, but I’ve had a rough time the last week, so I don’t know how much stamina I have. Even with my trusted friend, here. So.” You showed the head of your cane above the table bashfully, and looked away. “Sorry–people get weird about this stuff, I’m finding out, so I don’t really say anything in advance.”

Bucky blinked for a moment, then he leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table. “What do you mean weird?” His blue eyes narrowed.

“Suddenly unmatch. Tell me ‘it’s such a shame.’” You huffed. “Although it’s guys, on the whole. Women care less. But that’s beside the point–”

“Because of that?” He pointed at the seat beside you, where all of your belongings were stashed, and you knew what he meant. You nodded.

“I don’t say it in so many words. I’m not like–hey, just fyi, I use a cane, so deal with it or fuck off–”

“Why not? That would be a good way to separate out the weak and worthless,” Bucky said, but you could’ve sworn you heard a little touch of anger in his tone. He shook his head. “Doll… shit. Men are shit.”

“Yeah. They are. Sorry.”

“No, I’m shit, too. You can’t insult me when it’s true.” Bucky sat back against the worn cushion. “So, we going? Or are you going to talk me into an espresso to see if I can fly?”

“Sure. If you want to. I’m just slow–”

“Nonsense.” Bucky scooted out of the booth. “I grew up in this neighborhood. There’s plenty to do. And see.” He paused. “If this is insulting, just tell me to fuck off… You can lean on me.” He held out his elbow like an offering.

You could have cried. “Um. Okay.”

“Yeah? I–I would’ve offered, regardless. I like talking to you. I’ve enjoyed myself… through the phone.” Bucky scratched his cheek in embarrassment. “So. Even if you didn’t share, I probably would’ve tried to find a reason.”

“Really, I’ve just given you an excuse,” you said, tamping down a smile. He nodded solemnly.

“It’s thoughtful of you to spare me.” Bucky raised his eyebrows, waiting. The waiter breezed by, just then–

“You can pay at the front register!” the beleaguered hipster sighed, gesturing to the counter at which there was an extensive line. Bucky grabbed his elbow and fished a bill out of his pocket, slapping it in the guy’s palm. The waiter stared down at the twenty in his hand. “Great. I’m a human cash register.”

“Keep the change,” Bucky said. He turned back to you. “Do you get motion sick?”

“No?” You were clearly holding up whatever grand plans he was making in his head, so you hastily grabbed your things. Bucky liberated your coat from your hands and held it open. You stood slowly, leaning on the aid which had given you newfound freedom. Bucky smiled at you softly. He wasn’t impatient, just… excited. You slid your arms into your coat with Bucky’s help, and then curled your fingers into his elbow. His cheeks reddened. He had a boyishness to him which was endearing.

“This okay?”

Okay? Well. If you considered the wafting warmth of sandalwood cologne and the soft weave of his woolen peacoat okay, then you were dandy. You nodded, feeling your own cheeks flush under his attentive gaze.

“Great. I have an idea, if you’re game. So.” He cleared his throat, ushering you through the front door of the shop onto the sidewalk. “Where do you stand on surprises?”

“Um. Hate ‘em, to be honest.”

“How bad?”

“Flash mob? My idea of hell.”

“K–In that case, I’m gonna call a friend, he runs a ride service. There’s a festival in bridge park–I keep seeing fliers for it all over. We could check it out.”

You couldn’t help the smile which pulled at your cheeks. If that’s the sort of surprise Bucky had in mind, you would’ve been charmed by it. But knowing how quickly his brain was working to improvise a date was impressive, so you squeezed his elbow.

“Sounds fun.”

“Good. Okay.” His mouth turned up at the corner and his eyes crinkled.

He quickly dialed a number he had memorized, but not saved in his contacts. It made you wonder how many other people he knew by heart, and what it took to be remembered by this Brooklyn boy. He didn’t say much into the phone, just the intersection you stood on. Bucky hung up abruptly and pocketed his phone again, clearly intent on hiding it away.

“He’s two streets over, it’ll be five minutes max.”

He was a horse-and-buggy driver, who had festooned his buggy with bales of hay and pumpkins bearing hastily Sharpie’d faces drawn on them by someone under the age of ten. When the carriage pulled up outside of the chain coffee shop, Bucky grinned, passing the coachman a tenner and ushering you into the four-wheeled hayride. The straw was strewn over the plush seating poorly enough to poke you in the ass, even through your coat, but Bucky was so excited to pull the plaid wool blanket over your legs that you tolerated the gluteal acupuncture. He stashed your cane beside himself, and pressed you close enough that your thigh pressed against his.

“I went to school with Pat,” he explained, gesturing to the driver who was too far away to engage in conversation, but kept throwing back knowing glances at you and Bucky. “Kindergarten through the twelfth grade.”

“You really are in your neighborhood.”

“Yeah.” He blushed. “Never did get out, like I thought I would. Not complaining though. There’s a lot to love about Brooklyn.”

Bucky encouraged you to wrap your arm through the loop of his elbow again, and pointed out things to you about Brooklyn which had defied your notice prior. Brickwork at the pinnacle of a building, dating back to the 1920’s. A man dressed like a bush who stood on the street corner, blocking the walk button so no pedestrian could disturb his meditation. The fire hydrant he broke the bolt off senior year, flooding the sewer drains and causing rats to rush down the gutters like a parade of hissing floats. Halloween decorations in windows. Scarecrows mounted to telephone poles like they guarded a field of yellow taxis with as much aplomb as a treasury of corn stalks.

All the while… he distracted you. Little touches on your wrist where your coat met your skin with his soft gloves left you curling your fingers around air, and still he persisted. You studied his profile when he was distracted. With stubble and expression lines, he had character. He wasn’t stoic like you had thought him. Every inkling which crossed his brain was projected on his forehead like a drive-in feature just for you. And he kept smiling at you.

You arrived at Brooklyn Bridge park having spent an eternity and no time at all in a horse-drawn carriage positively burdened with loose hay, but the tents and balloons and various sizes of gourds distracted you from anything but the Autumnal joy of it all. Stalls lined the park in a makeshift walkway, which smelled of pie spices and syrup, and crisping ham on a rotisserie, and campfire.

When he helped you down from the carriage, placing your cane at your dominant side, Bucky instantly seemed to have a plan. Time passed like you were observing through a looking glass. He ushered a cup of cider into your hands, and then adios’d the empty into the garbage once you finished it. You dominated the hammer game, winning a massive plush gorilla. Which you promptly gave away to the first screaming child you saw, to Bucky’s amusement. He fed you funnel cake while you picked out your choice for the fastest piglet in a race which consisted of five piglets running around a kiddie pool. You lost–everyone did, when the piglets abandoned course to lay in the tepid water and snort bubbles at one another–but you left a lingering dusting of powdered sugar behind at the corner of your mouth. Bucky wiped it away without a second thought.

And so the date continued, with you floating beside a man whose eyes sparkled with delight every time you found joy in something. It didn’t feel like you had only met that day. You reached for his hand to express delight. He curled his fingers over your shoulder to wish you luck in the ring toss. Bucky–Barnes was his last name, you learned–was some kind of familiar fixture. He even bought you a coffee, and then brutally beat a group of sixth-graders at bobbing-for-apples.

It wasn’t until the sun tucked itself behind the rooftops that you realized dusk approached. Without needing to ask, Bucky summoned a cab. You had leaned on him heavily the second half of the afternoon, and opted to sit every opportunity you got. Yet… Bucky’s excitement never diminished. It wasn’t until you sat on the top step of your stoop that you realized it.

That was the best date you had ever been on.

And you sure as hell didn’t want it to end. The stars were out in force–as clear a night as you had ever seen in the city of light pollution, and yet… Orion’s belt… the pan handle of a Dipper… stars shone for you.

Bucky shoved his hands into his coat pockets in acknowledgement of the drop in temperature, while he balanced one foot up a step from you. He studied you through honest eyes–that is, he looked at you like he saw who you were without pretense. Which felt very vulnerable.

“Repeat the question,” you breathed.

Bucky smiled. “You date much?”

You shook your head. “No. To be honest, I don’t usually feel like it’s worth it. Putting myself out there. I’m sorry–I know it sounds like I’m wallowing in self-pity, but, uh. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. Being turned down. Because I use a stupid piece of metal to walk.”

“You could spend a lot of time feeling sorry for yourself, doll. And–that’s not to say you don’t have the goddamn right to feel some type of way about it. It’s your body, it’s not how you pictured your life going. Of course you’re gonna be sore about it. You aren’t alone in that. I’m just sayin’... Anybody who’d lose out on a chance with you because of something as insignificant as a tube of aluminum ain’t the type of person you wanna waste your time with anyhow.”

“It’s weird. I don’t disagree with what you’re saying, but. I dunno. It’s hard to think people exist who aren’t gonna be weird about a freakin’ cane.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “Fuck’em. Waste of your time.”

“What about you? Are you a time-waster?”

“Worse. I’m a Brooklyn boy. We can wait out a stubborn dame with the best of ‘em.” Bucky braced himself on the railing. “Can I take you out again?”

“You’re gonna sit on my porch until I agree to a second date?”

“I–when you say it like that, I sound like a creep,” he chuckled. “No, I just… if you had a good time, and I really hope you did, I would like to treat you to another date. I took a wild guess on the festival idea, but I can think of a million other things. More than just coffee.”

“I was holding a coffee mug in my profile photo,” you laughed. “That was enough.”

“There’s more out there.”

“I had a good time.”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

You watched his face turn from excitement to pure glee. His body angled towards you intensely. All his energy was directed towards you. It made your skin tingle, and all good sense fled from your mind.

“Just come in, Bucky.”

“You gotta say it, or I ain’t budging. This is all up to you, doll.”

“Yes, okay?” You leaned against the doorway with an exasperated sigh. “I had a great time. You’re adorable, and exhausting, and I’ve never had more fun on a first date. Or any date, for that matter. Please–come inside. Kiss me a little. I think you’re probably good at it.”

“It’s been awhile,” he admitted quietly, though he pushed off the railing to do as you bid him.

“Good. I don’t like it so formal–”

“You’re so cute.”

“I’m not–”

“No, it isn’t up for debate.” Bucky tucked a finger under your chin so you’d look up at him, given that your attention had fallen to the laces of his boots in embarrassment. His irises flicked back and forth, mapping every refraction in your eyes. “I know cute when I see her. And there’s nobody else in this whole damned city but you, doll.”

He kissed you as if that were true… as if he had stepped out of the subway to a world devoid of anything but a billion scattered golden leaves tracing circles on the pavement, and a girl with a cane who hates surprises. As if–in that dystopian and autumnal universe, that were heaven to him. Like he’d been looking for you in every empty coffee shop. Like he knew you, and it was only a matter of walking into the right store. It was soft, the drag of his lips over yours. At first he just ghosted a millimeter from your mouth, but then he needed to know… so he gave in. He didn’t spoil it with tongue too soon. Bucky discovered you.

You’d been kissed, but never at the world’s end. The world you knew was siphoned away. In this one? Well, kisses stopped time. Made leaves hang in the air between gasping breaths. Kisses were where the light got in. Where sun broke through clouds… where a girl who didn’t much care for vulnerability let a man she barely knew steal every little sound from her throat, out on her front stoop where anybody could see them.

You got the door open by feel, and stayed on your feet by virtue of the man with roving hands who backed you into the building. It was for the best that your apartment was on the first floor, because your knees threatened to buckle when his tongue worried the seam of your lips. He tucked the crook of your cane into the curve of his elbow when you tore yourself away to fight the finicky lock at your threshold.

“I didn’t expect to have anyone over,” you said by way of an explanation for whatever mess might be found inside, but Bucky snorted.

“When are you gonna get it through your head?” He nipped at the tendon which helped form the curve from your shoulder to neck, making you shiver. “I don’t give a shit if all you got is a mattress on the floor. I like you.”

“I have a bit more furniture than that,” you giggled, “but I still appreciate you saying it.”

The moment you were inside the apartment, Bucky leaned back against the door and turned you, so you stood between his feet. He looked at you through heavily-lidded eyes. “Tell me.”

You turned your attention to the buttons on his coat as he saw right through you. “Bucky–”

“I think you like kissing me, but you’re skittish. If you’re freaked out…”

“I’m–shit.” You sighed. “I believe you. That you like me, I do. But I am so used to feeling like nobody is ever gonna want me back–”

“Impossible.” He cupped your cheeks. “Look at you.”

“Bucky,” you groaned.

“No, stop it. I know what you’re doing. Oldest trick in my book. You think that a good thing is a lie, that it ain’t gonna hang around. I’m a really, really, really bad liar. Alright? My ears turn red.” Bucky smiled triumphantly when you chuckled. “I watched you drink a pumpkin latte today like it was the best thing you’ve ever had in your whole damn life and it cost me three dollars. You’re charming. I’m addicted.”

He kissed your forehead and you melted into his chest in resignation. “I don’t do this,” you mumbled into his sweater.

“What? Let somebody say why they like you?”

You shook your head, and pressed your cheek against his chest. “I’m starving.”

“Oh–doll, dammit, I should’a fed you–”

“No. I mean, yes, we should order something,” you laughed, “but. Just. Why?” When you raised your hand, gesturing to your general being, Bucky’s expression transformed from concern to… something gentle.

He shrugged, but his shoulders fell heavily downward, and his fingers curled into the pockets of your coat so you wouldn’t pull away while he found the words.

“Because–I just knew. You were simply a notification in a stupid app and I still thought about your profile picture waiting in my ‘likes’ for days. And we talked like it was an everyday occurrence, feeling your world shift its axis. I didn’t talk to a single soul on that app but you, sweets, and I tried my damndest not to jump the gun on asking you to meet in person. Imagine my delight when you agreed. I was so terrified last night that I hardly slept, but I never thought once about feeling… self conscious, all day. It–I don’t feel that way with most girls. Safe, I guess. And I may not know what the hell I’m doing, but I’m not a guy who ever feels like I can trust a person and I’m pretty prepared to lay down naked in the street if you tell me that’s what you want–”

“Not necessary,” you said, smiling.

“Well, that’s a relief.” Bucky brushed his thumbs over your cheeks. “Doll–I’m so sorry that anybody ever made you feel like you got some kinda worth to live up to. It makes me so angry, but then I think–who’s that for? What’s the point in me being angry at somebody who isn’t gonna change their mind… especially when it means that I get a chance.”

“Says the handsome guy with perfect teeth.” You winked at him when he scowled.

“I’m tryin’ here–”

“You’re wonderful,” you whispered. You smoothed over his bottom lip with the pads of your thumbs. “I’m… thank you.”

Bucky leaned forward until his forehead pressed against yours. “I’ve overwhelmed you.”

“No, sir. I just need a second. To acclimate to the idea.”

“I can go–”

“Please. Please don’t.” You tugged him towards the living room, slowly walking backwards and giving him every opportunity to wrench out of your grasp and run. But he didn’t break eye contact, no. Bucky kept pace with you, toe-to-toe. “We’ll watch something.”

“Spooky movie?” he suggested.

“...I’m such a wimp,” you admitted, and he let out a quick breath.

“You can hide under my arm during the scary parts.”

“So just bury myself under you the whole movie, got it–”

“If that’s what you want, doll.” Bucky smirked as your knees bumped into the lip of the couch, causing you to sit abruptly against the cushions. You still had a fist wrapped in the placate of his coat, so he fell forward, catching himself on the arm rest and hovering over you. You watched intently as his tongue whetted his bottom lip absent-mindedly, and you had to bite back a groan.

“That’s what I want. Bucky.”

***

A long time later, when your body was so sensitive that you shivered beneath him, Bucky hopped up… pantsless, still wearing his sweater, but peachy ass exposed to the air so he could run to the bathroom and find a soft cloth. When he returned to you (with a towel around his waist, suddenly bashful), he bore a damp washcloth in his left hand, which… you sat up slowly on your elbows to watch the reticulated fingers on his left hand as he cleaned you with soft strokes over your thighs and bit his lip… asshole. You smiled at him softly when his eyes flicked up to yours.

“You gonna tell me about it, or wait for me to ask?” you murmured, sliding the cuff of his left sleeve up his bicep, exposing a charcoal and gold metallic limb to the dim light.

Bucky didn’t say anything at first. He lifted you beneath the knees, and behind your back. He had no choice but to shower with you (since you woefully lacked a bathtub), as cleaning you both was clearly his priority, so he sat you on the edge of the porcelain counter to help you fully undress. He did so with a type of reverence which felt undue… but you were reminded that he didn’t look at you through the same lens with which you viewed yourself. Especially when he trailed his fingers over your softness like he didn’t feel worthy of touching you.

But then, he stepped back from you, and he shucked his sweater.

He didn’t look you in the eye once he was fully exposed to you. He studied the tiles under your toes, and his hands didn’t seem to know whether to rest on his hips or try to hide his flesh from you, so he fidgeted. Which meant he didn’t see you reaching for his left hand, and when you did so (threading your fingers through his metal facsimiles), he looked like he might cry.

Bucky was an amputee. With a gleaming prosthetic extending from his clavicle to the tips of his left fingers, so intricate and complicated a design that it must be something experimental and custom-made, just for the likes of a soft-hearted Brooklyn boy.

“You’re beautiful.” You meant the raw words, even though they escaped your lips unbidden.

Bucky squeezed your hand. “I’m not.”

“You don’t have to agree for it to be true.”

He looked at you, then. An agreement passed between you, unvoiced. I’ll say about you what you can’t. I’ll hold for you what you won’t. I’ll touch you again, because I want you, all of you–the flesh and the metal and the weak and the kind. Especially the kind. Of course Bucky understood you. Your heart-wounds took different guises, but they pulled the same strings.

When he knelt at your knee, it was supplication. It was obvious when he bowed his head to kiss the skin above your heart. Your heart had known his forever, it seemed.

“A long time ago, I didn’t have a choice,” he said, so quietly you could only make out his words because you had coaxed him up to meet your lips again. “I almost died. I–god, I never thought I’d live or touch somebody again. And then you. I can’t explain this to people–” He rolled his shoulder like the limb was hurting him, and maybe it was– “without inviting them to look at my naked fuckin’ heart.”

“Is it heavy?” You ran your finger the length of the connector, where metal met his skin and cupped his pectoral. You meant the arm, but the way his head bobbed… you inclined your head so you could catch his lips before his spirit fell one iota further. It was a kiss of knowing. Understanding, without words.

“I can take it off,” he breathed against your lips.

“So do it.”

Bucky sat back on his heels. Then, he looked you square in the eye and detached the prosthetic arm. It wheezed as it lost power, the moment its circuits no longer drew power from his body’s natural electric whims. You held out your hands, and he set the thing across your open palms. It was lighter than you expected, but still hefty. You could only imagine how it pulled at his muscles, unnatural as it was. It was incredible, but then–so was the man with an empty prosthetic socket, who sat at your feet like he hadn’t hastily fucked you on your own couch at the end of your first date. Like sex was a small exchange when there was a soul resonance at hand. If you said it out loud? It would sound insane. Holding Bucky’s cheeks in your hands, though…

“I like sushi,” you said softly, “and any carbs, really. So. Jot that one down, for your date ideas. And I’m a fabulous co-pilot if you like road trips. I love Upstate. I excel at floating down a river on an innertube–”

Bucky pushed up between your knees so he could reach your lips and he kissed you senseless. “Doll–”

“Shhh, darling man,” you smiled against his mouth. “I am addicted.” Parroting his words back to him made Bucky beam. “Stay the night. Surprise me in the morning. I don’t care. You’re everything I didn’t think I deserved and–and I’ll keep you. To spite Me.”

Bucky laughed. “It will be a pleasure to help you get revenge on yourself.”

***

Thanks for reading! :)

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3-cats-in-a-coat · 5 months

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Bucky is a disabled amputee and that should still be true in AU’s and fics in general

I don’t care if it “““DoEsN’t FiT wELL””” with your Stucky Coffee Shop AU, unless a fic is exclusively pre or during the war then he should be an amputee and if a fic is exclusively pre-war then Steve should be disabled because that’s what he was pre-serum. The reason why this is so important to me is because it’s important to have representation for disabled characters and we can’t just erase that.

The only time when neither one of them were disabled was during the few years between Steve getting the serum and Bucky falling off the train.

Also, fun fact, the type of amputation that Bucky has is either a shoulder disarticulation or (more likely considering how far the metal arm goes into his shoulder) a forequarter amputation.

And now, here are some suggestions for how to explain why his left arm and shoulder are missing: Cancer, him still being a war vet who lost it in action, an accident involving heavy machinery and bad safety precautions, a very large and extremely infected wound in his shoulder or the “very revolutionary” idea of just not saying how he lost his arm but still referencing every once in awhile that it’s missing and how he’s affected by it.

#disability representation is important #op is not physically disabled but is still an ally #or at least trying to be one #please give constructive criticism if I did something wrong #disability representation #bucky barnes #stucky #steve rogers #disabled characters #bucky barnes is disabled #so is steve

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amarriageoftrueminds · 8 months

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I often think about Bucky using ballet as part of his recovery process / art therapy but this week I have specifically been thinking about Bucky and music.

Bucky recovering his voice through singing, and especially through playing musical instruments (for days when his voice won't come), because it would also be a great way for him to get used to seeing his prosthetic as creative and beautiful rather than destructive

#bucky and music #bucky barnes #ficbunny #stuckbunny #question is... if bucky could play any musical instruments before serum and if so which ones?#and does serum mean he's even better at playing it now?? 🤔#idk sth about bucky being in an amateur band and that's part of his therapy #like imagine bucky singing and learning guitar #also I feel like hawkguy is one of nature's natural drummers so them being disabled-band-bros #bucky and dance #bucky and song #amateur sexyrockband frontman veteran bucky is the vibe #yet each man queues the thing he loves #bucky recovering

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late-to-the-party-81 · 1 year

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Suddenly I see

AN: Thank you nonnie for this request - I hope you enjoy this. I can’t seem to write anything short at the moment!

heyyy, this is my first request, i love your work!! i was wondering if you could do a blind reader or blind OC and bucky barnes. Bucky has been attempting to help her around even if she doesn’t always need it. he keeps trying and it’s dosent really go his way and he keeps just doing the wrong things but they get there and eventually they fall for each other and it ends with them trying to navigate the only thing they haven’t yet, a sex scene. sooo angsty fluff with a smut ending. thanks you much love 💕

This also fills square K2 on my BBB card - Flowers - @buckybarnesbingo

Beta’d by @lunarbuck

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and mood board and banner by me,

Masterlist | BBB Masterlist

Summary: Bucky just wants to help you, but it would be better if he asked you first.

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Blind SHIELD analyst Reader

Word count: 5.1k

CW: Human disaster Bucky, mild angst, fluff, Nat being Nat, miscommunication, pining, disabled Bucky Barnes, sex with banter (oral - m receiving, unprotected PinV sex)

The first time you met him, you did have to forgive him.

Most people didn’t know how to react when they met you, not expecting someone in your…position, to be doing the job that you were. For the most part you’d given up being mad about it - people either realised very quickly that your disability didn’t affect your job at all, or they felt the sharp end of your tongue and scuttled off with their tail between their legs, so to speak.

You were busy concentrating when Nat brought him into the room where you were working, but not so engrossed in your work that you didn’t register the arrival of new people. Your fingers were flying over the keyboard, typing out your code, and you knew that Nat would wait for you to finish before introducing you to whoever she’d brought into your sanctum. You pressed ‘enter’ and turned your chair towards her and your new guest, lifting your chin and tilting your head to the side as if regarding them - an action left over from when it made a difference.

“Hey, Nat! Good to see you. What brings you to my neck of the basement? And who’s the fresh meat?”

You grinned at the same time that she chuckled.

“Do I need an excuse to come and spend time with my favourite Oracle?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname.

“I’ve told you before - I don’t know the future. I’m an ordinary human, just like you.”

She snorted at that, and you heard her pull over one of the other chairs before she dropped down into it, settling behind your right shoulder as you resumed typing.

“Nothing ordinary about you. And speaking of which, I’d like to introduce you to Bucky.”

Oh! That’s who it was.You’d heard of Bucky, Captain Rogers best friend, released from decades of Hydra brain-washing, but this was the first time you’d been introduced. You spun your chair back towards where he’d been standing when he entered and held out your hand.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, and you heard the tiniest exhale off to your left.

Shit!

“I’m over here, doll.”

You turned your chair more, grateful when Nat moved out of your way, and stood up, taking a step closer to where Bucky had spoken from.

“Well, you move as quietly as they say. Normally it’s only Nat who gets the drop on me. If you hadn’t guessed by now, I’m blind. And don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” You heard Nat’s muffled giggle, confirming your suspicion that Bucky’s mouth was flapping up and down with the apology he was about to make lodged in his throat.

You held out your hand again and gave him your name. “But Nat, here, calls me Oracle, because of my knack of interpreting intel and predicting likely scenarios.” His hand, warm but calloused, took hold of yours and gave it a gentle shake.

“Ummm, nice to meet you, Oracle.”

You could feel the awkward tension in the air, and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh.

“Let me get this out of the way, and then we can move on, okay? I was born sighted, but was diagnosed with a condition called Retinitis Pigmentosa as a child, which meant that I slowly lost my vision over time. I became completely blind about 18 months back, but I remember seeing. I know what colours look like, animals, etc. I learnt to touch type as a teen, and although my keyboard does have Braille on the keys I don’t really use them. I manage just fine. FRIDAY reads back my code to me, so I can spot errors, I have my cane and I have Jimbo.”

“Jimbo?”

Aha! So the famed former assassin hadn’t noticed everything.

You gave a quick whistle and felt Bucky start as your faithful companion uncurled himself from under your desk where he’d been sleeping and came to stand at parade rest by your right leg.

You crouched down and gave him a pet, and in return he booped his nose against yours.

“This is Jimbo. The best seeing-eye dog ever. Aren’t you, boy? Yes you are!”

You stood back up and made your way back to your chair, Jimbo returning to his sleeping spot now that he realised his services weren’t currently required.

“So that’s me. I’m damn good at my job, and I promise that you’ll never have to worry about any mission information that you get from me. And if you can’t trust me, trust Nat. I’ve never steered her wrong.”

“Ummm. Good to know. I… ummm… if Nat trusts you, then I do too. And it was good to meet you… and Jimbo… but I… uh… gotta go. So… see you later, Nat? And again, nice to meet you, Oracle.”

His footsteps retreated from in front of you and you heard the sound of the door opening and closing before Nat burst into a fit of giggles. You turned your chair towards her, crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Really Nat? You didn’t let him know in advance?”

“Hey, it’s not my story to tell, it’s yours. And besides, I wanted to see what you made of each other. Suffice to say, I wasn’t disappointed.”

“It’s a good thing I love you, Nat, otherwise I’d have to sic Jimbo on you.”

Nat moved towards you, and must have crouched down from the way her hand brushed your knee. You knew what she wanted. You scootched your chair back to allow her to reach under your desk. A satisfied huff from Jimbo let you know that Nat had found the sweet spot behind his right ear.

“This sweetheart? I’m more scared of you than I am of him.”

“Damn straight!”

After your less than stellar introduction to Bucky, it seemed that from then on you kept bumping into him. Or rather he kept bumping into you. Literally.

You were making your way back to your office from the bathroom, cane in hand, although you knew the route like the back of your hand, when something caught on the end of it, sending it flying out of your hand. A heavy body then crashed into you, pinning you against the wall.

“Shit! What the fu… Oh. it’s you! Sorry. Sorry.”

Oh, god!

“Bucky… could you get off me please?”

“What? Oh! Yes, yes. Of course… umm.”

He pushed away from the wall, and you sucked in a deep breath. Boy, was the guy heavy. Part of your brain decided to tell you it was the right kind of heavy. You told it to shut up.

Bending down you reached out your hand to find your cane, only to find Bucky’s hand - he was obviously trying to help. His fingers closed over yours, and you turned your head upwards in reflex.

“Bucky, you are not my cane. Do you have it there?”

“Yes… umm.. Yes, of course. Let me, just…”

Without any warning you found yourself jerked back to your feet. The sudden movement unbalanced you and your free arm flailed, searching for purchase. Which it found by curling into the fabric of Bucky’s top, bringing you flush up against his chest, pressed to him for the second time in that many minutes. That part of your brain started clamouring for attention again. It was telling you that this was actually quite nice, and that Bucky smelled wonderful. Then, to add insult to injury the rest of your body started to join in, a gentle throbbing starting from between your legs.

Jesus, you needed to get laid, or at least find time to schedule some ‘self-care’, if you were reacting like this to a frankly frustrating man you’d only ever met twice.

You pulled your captive hand free and let go of his shirt, smoothing down your own top to cover your discombobulated state.

“Well, thank you, but I was capable of standing back up myself. I just need you to pass me my cane.”

“Oh, right. Hang on.” You felt the movement of air on your face as he quickly ducked away, and then he was back by your side, pressing your cane into your hand.

“Can I… umm… walk you back to where you were going?”

“Well, I do know where I’m going - I’ve worked here longer than you but, sure, you can tag along. Just going back to my office.”

“Sounds good!”

You couldn’t help but giggle. He sounded like an eager puppy. Maybe he wasn’t so bad… no scratch that…

You were just about to set off walking again, when Bucky threaded your left arm through the crook of his right. You couldn’t help it, you rolled your eyes. It was obvious he meant well, but by the same token, wasn’t used to being around someone with a disability like yours. You lurched forwards as he set off walking, effectively dragging you along with him.

“Bucky! Stop! Wait!” He came to a halt and you bounced off his, very muscular, arm.

“What? Are you okay? Did I hurt you when I bumped into you?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just that it’s actually harder for me to walk with you pulling me along like this. I need to walk at my speed, and use my senses. I’m a grown woman and perfectly capable of navigating the couple of hundred yards between the bathroom and my office. I do it every day.”

“‘M sorry. I just…” You held up your hand.

“... wanted to help? I get that, I do. But if I need help I will ask for it. Assuming I need help is ableism, pure and simple. I may be blind, but I’m not helpless. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. I’m already behind schedule.”

As you strode off down the hall, your cane moving from side to side in front of you, you did feel a bit bad for chewing him out. He did mean well, after all, but you’d had your fill of ‘helpful’ people - people who saw a problem that they had to solve for you, instead of trusting you to sort it yourself.

Lost in your thoughts you didn’t hear the dejected sigh from behind you.

It would have been alright if that had been the end of it, but it wasn’t. Bucky seemed intent on helping you every chance he could. Unfortunately it just kept going wrong.

Like at a mission briefing when you were making your way to the table. You pulled out your chair and went to sit down, but suddenly it wasn’t there and you were landing on the floor with a shout.

What the fuck?

“Shit, I’m sorry, doll. I just pulled your chair out a bit further to make it easier and…”

You gritted your teeth, trying to ignore the smell of his cologne and what it did to your equilibrium as he helped you back up.

“It’s fine, Bucky. But I was okay.

Like the time he accompanied Nat to see you in your office. He’d said hi, but nothing else, leaving Nat to check some mission intel over with you. But then you heard the tell-tale sound of hands patting thighs, and Jimbo brushed past your legs, followed by the sounds of canine mastication.

“Umm, Bucky… Are you feeding my dog?”

All was silent apart from the sounds of Jimbo snacking.

“Errr…”

You pinched the brow of your nose and tried to ignore the tremors of suppressed amusement from Nat next to you. You strode forward and somehow managed to swipe the offending bag out of Bucky’s hand.

“I thought he might like a little treat for being so good…”

“And that’s very sweet, but he’s not allowed treats when he’s working. And even if he was it’s good manners to ask. He could be on a specialised diet or something. If he gets an upset stomach, not only do I have to deal with being without him while he recovers, I somehow have to clean up doggy diarrhoea, which I can tell you isn’t fun when sighted, let alone blind.”

“Doll, I’m…”

“Yes, Bucky. I know. You’re sorry… You always are.”

You turned your back on him and went back to your chair, tucking the doggy treats into your desk draw and going back to your conversation with Nat. You tried to pretend you didn’t notice when Bucky slunk out. Nat, sensibly, didn’t say anything.

One thing about working for SHIELD was that for those that wanted, you could have accommodation to live in on site. You’d jumped at the chance - anything to do away with an annoying commute. You just had to walk from the main building to the apartment block.

Jimbo sat down at your side as you let go of the handle of his harness, and pulled your key from your purse. You opened the door and signalled for Jimbo to go in, then closed it behind you and hung up your purse, keys, cane and coat, before removing your faithful companions' reflective harness.

“Good boy. You did so well today.”

You walked down your hall and into your open plan living room and then halted as an unexpected smell assaulted your nose.

Flowers?

How and why were there flowers in your apartment?

“FRIDAY!” You called out the AI, a little louder than necessary.

“Yes, Oracle?”

Damn Nat. And damn Tony.

You let out another sigh. You seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

“Are their flowers in my apartment?”

“Yes, miss. Roses and carnations. A large bouquet on the dining table. The roses are blush pink and the carnations are red.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“And did Sergeant Barnes put them in here?”

“He did, miss.”

You stalked back towards the door, grabbing your cane, coat and keys.

“And does Sergeant Barnes live in this complex?”

“He does. Would you like to know his address?”

You thrust your arms into your coat and pocketed your keys.

“If it’s not too much trouble, FRIDAY. I need to give him a piece of my mind.”

“Sergeant Barnes’ apartment is 2C.”

Okay, so one floor up and third apartment along. Not quite overhead of you.

As you opened the door you felt a nudge to your leg. Jimbo.

“Good boy, but stay. I’m sure I can make my way upstairs.”

You gave him a pat and then walked out of your door.

You hadn’t been on the other floors of the apartment block more than a handful of times. Nat always came to you if you organised to hang out, and you worked mostly on your own, not having really made friends with many of your co-workers. However, you found your way to the elevator and rode it up to the next floor.

You knew that apartment C should be the second on the left hand side of the corridor, so you walked along that side, and used your cane to identify the first, and then the second door frame. Squaring your shoulder and mentally preparing yourself, because you didn’t really like confrontation, you raised your hand to knock and brought it down… on nothing.

No. Not nothing. A person. Bucky. You were confused.

“Why is your door open, and why are you standing in it?”

“Heard you coming, doll.”

“Oh…”

You could swear you almost heard the smile in his voice. Shit! Your hand was still on his very warm, very broad chest.

“You wanna come in?”

“What? Oh, yes. Thanks.”

You snatched your hand back to yourself as he stepped back and you walked through the door, using your cane to work out where he was.

“Can I take your coat, and cane? This apartment is set out the same as yours, more or less, and I can help you to the couch?”

“Umm, sure.”

God! He was being so nice and considerate, which was going to make this more difficult. You could feel your frustrations evaporating by the second, and damn it, you wanted to stay mad.

You passed him your cane and shrugged out of your coat, then waited patiently for him to escort you. He moved to your left side, and this time he waited for you to start walking, gently steering you around his furniture until your hand made contact with the back of his couch, allowing you to find your own way onto it. As you settled onto it, feeling the soft leather under your fingers, you felt the other side dip. Bucky was sitting next to you, on your right, but not too close.

“So, what can I help you with, doll. Can’t say I expected you to turn up at my door.”

“Bucky, you broke into my apartment and left flowers in it.”

“Well, I realised I’ve been a bit of an ass, and wanted to apologise. And you never let me actually say the words.”

You sank back into the couch and mulled on what to say.

“You gotta realise that since I got this diagnosis when I was five, before I even understood what it meant, I’ve had people saying sorry to me all the time, and then trying to help me. Over and over and over. Running roughshod over my autonomy because I happen to have a disability. My brain works fine. I manage just fine. It’s just so frustrating and it’s hard for those without disabilities to understand.”

The silence between you stretched for a few moments, before Bucky started to speak.

“I…” You cut him off.

“Don’t you dare say it!”

Then you heard something you hadn’t before. A chuckle. Bucky’s chuckle.

Deep. Velvety. Downright sinful.

“Wasn’t gonna, doll. But I did want to show you something, so to speak.” He took hold of your right hand with his own. “Can I?”

You nodded, wondering what he meant, but it all became clear as he raised your hand and placed it on his left shoulder. You could feel the soft cotton of his t-shirt, but where it should have been stretched over his upper arm and bicep it in fact hung loose.

There was no arm there.

Your mouth dropped open and you whipped your head up towards him.

“How did I not know?”

Your words were a strangled whisper, and full of shame.

“Dunno, doll. It’s in my file. Although I do have a prosthetic. A very fancy one at that. It gives me more than normal abilities, but I will admit, like any other amputee, when I get home, I like to take it off.”

“Nat never mentioned it.”

“Like she never mentioned you being blind to me?”

“Oh…”

You didn’t know what to say. You knew what it was like to be bombarded with questions about something so personal.

“Well, if you ever wanna talk about it, you know where I am.”

“I do, doll. One floor down and to the left.”

Your hand was still on his shoulder, and you felt a little awkward.

“I… well… I was wondering, could I feel what you look like? I mean, if you don’t mind?”

He picked your left hand up from your lap and lifted it up towards his face.

“I was waiting for you to ask. Go ahead.”

You placed both your hands on top of his head, feeling his hair. It felt long; tied back.

“What colour is your hair?”

“I’d say brown, but Nat says it’s chestnut.”

You hummed as you trailed your fingers down, finding his brow and sweeping your fingers over his eyebrows and round his eye sockets and cheekbones.

“And your eyes? What colour are they?”

“Sorta blue-ish grey, I suppose.”

There was hair on his cheeks and jaw, long enough to feel soft against your sensitive finger tips.

You realised you were finding it hard to breathe. There was a tension in the air between you, a tension that you knew had been there from almost the beginning, but that you’d tried so hard to ignore.

Your fingers moved towards, and then traced across his lips. They felt plump, albeit slightly chapped and you found yourself wondering how they’d feel against your own. With your left hand still on his mouth, your right trailed over his chin, feeling a small divot. You smiled as you imagined using it in order to grip him, hold his face still.

You were just about to pull your hands away, when Bucky reached up again, and held your left against his lips, so he could press small kisses to your fingertips. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I’m gonna say it, doll. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was such an ass, and that I didn’t listen to you. I was stupid because I was trying to impress you. I wanted to show you how good I’d be for you, because almost from the first moment we met I was totally enamoured. You’re so smart, and confident, and I just felt useless. And then every time I tried to help I made it worse. Nat had to give me a talking to because I was just making a fool of myself.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks at his words.

“Bucky, I…” but it was his turn to cut you off.

“So, I’m saying sorry, and I hope you can give this one-armed super-soldier a chance to show he isn’t an ableist ass, because I’d really like to get to know you better.”

Your heart was beating so hard you thought it was going to burst out of your chest, and you could no longer resist what your body and mind was telling you to do. You took hold of his chin, just the way you’d imagined a few moments ago, grabbing his attention.

“You’ve frustrated me from nearly the moment we met - I hope you realise that. Gotten under my skin in a way I couldn’t describe. I didn’t know why. Well at least, not at first. Every time I wanted to chew you out, I also wanted to kiss you. For trying so hard and so earnestly, but still getting it so very, very wrong.”

“You could kiss me now?”

Your lips twitched. “Smooth, Barnes. Smooth.”

“I like to think so…”

“Shut up.” You broke out into a full smile as you pulled him towards you by his cute chin until your lips met his.

It was everything you’d imagined in your private moments. The warmth, the restrained passion. Everything.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, strands coming loose from his ponytail. His arm was wrapped around your waist… and when and how had you ended up on his lap? You didn’t care, you just wanted him to keep kissing you. When he finally pulled his lips from yours you ducked your head down to his neck, wanting to keep any kind of connection. It was like a dam had burst and you had no way of stopping the flood.

“Doll, you gotta stop. Please. ‘Cause I’m dying here.” He was panting. You could taste the sweat on his throat, feel his pounding in his chest, feel the firmness at his groin.

“You really want me to, Bucky? Or do you want me to help you dig your grave?”

“Oh, fuck, doll!”

In one swift movement his arm shifted to cradle your ass and he stood up. Your legs clenched around his waist and your arms went around his neck.

“I got you. I got you, doll. Just moving somewhere more comfortable, if that’s alright with you?”

“Sure is. I need space so I can ‘take a look’ at the rest of you.”

It was only a short walk to the bedroom, and he placed you, oh so reverently, on the bed. You pulled your top over your head and shimmied out of your work pants.

“I have no idea if this underwear matches - I was in a rush this morning.”

There was a rusting sound and the mattress dipped. Bucky took hold of one of your left hand and pulled it down so you could touch his, now bare, chest.

“You look like a million bucks, doll. Now, I gotta warn you. I got some pretty ugly scarring going on here.”

You brought your right hand up, and lightly stroked over the left side of his chest. You felt the edge of the scarring that started just above the nipple, raised and hard, which led up to cool metal which covered all over the shoulder area.

“Is this what your prosthetic attaches to?”

“Yeah. Unfortunately, when it was first done, the people doing it weren’t concerned with the aesthetic of it.”

“Good thing I’m blind then. I don’t care.”

Bucky let out a bark of laughter.

“You’re incredible, doll.”

“And so are you. Now lie still, so I can take a good look.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Your hands roved over the rest of his body, feeling where his chest hair grew in patches around the scarring. When your palms brushed over his nipples he gasped and you felt him shift beside you. Impishly, you did it again, grinning when he let out a warning growl.

You took the hint, however, and continued your explorations, discovering the solid plains of his abdomen and feeling the strength within his core. No wonder he’d been able to lift you so easily, even with the help of his super-soldier serum.

When you finally ‘saw’ his cock, your hands gently learning the size and shape of it, every vein, every sensitive part, you heard his laboured breathing as he tried to control himself under the sweet torture of your touch.

“You’re so pretty, Bucky. I wonder how you taste?”

You bent over, and licked a stripe up the length of him, revelling in the sound of his indrawn breath. It had been a while since you’d been with anyone, but muscle memory was your friend. You traced the contours of his cock with the tip of your tongue, tasting the sweat, the musk, the essence of him, before taking him into your mouth.

“Oh, God! Doll! I wasn’t lying. You’re killing me!”

You pulled off him with a pop.

“Don’t resist it, Bucky. Give yourself over to ‘le petit mort’.”

You returned to ministering to his cock, sucking strongly on the tip of it, while stroking the shaft with your hand. You teased his slit with the tip of your tongue, then swirled around the head. His whole body was trembling with tension and you could feel how wet you were, how aroused you were by the power you held over him.

“Doll, I’m gonna cum! Fuck!”

You wished you could see Bucky’s face as he came, but instead settled for reaching up to twine your fingers with his. When his hips twitched under you, you hollowed your cheeks, and took him as deep as possible, moaning low in your throat as he spilt down it.

You continued to suck and stroke him through his orgasm, until he shifted under you, sitting up and dragging you up his body. You straddled his lap again, pleasantly surprised to realise he was still hard, pressing up against your heated core. He kissed you, licking into your mouth, either not caring about or enjoying the taste of himself on you. His hand pulled at the fastener of your bra, but this was obviously something he couldn’t do one handed, so you reached behind you, quickly releasing the offending garment and discarding it.

“I need you, doll. I need to be inside you.”

“Please! I need you too!”

You didn’t want to pull away from him, even to remove your panties, so you pulled the flimsy fabric to the side, before taking hold of him and guiding him to your entrance.

Bucky let out a gasp and fell back onto the mattress as he started to slide into your heat. Your hands went to his chest, looking for stability and leverage as you moved yourself up and down, drawing him into you, inch by glorious inch.

It felt so fucking good! The stretch, the slight burn. And you were also certain that it wouldn’t matter how long it had been since you’d last had sex, this, with Bucky, would still be mind blowing. His hand was on your waist, helping to keep you stable as you moved. You were so fixated on how he felt inside you, that it took you a few moments to realise that he was talking to you.

“You’re fucking glorious, you know that? I swear, tomorrow we’re gonna do this when I have two arms and I’m gonna take you apart. ‘M gonna fucking feast on you.”

You laughed and tossed your head as you continued to ride him. “Is that… fuck!... a promise?”

“Sure is! Gonna help you remember what stars look like.”

“Get that hand on me and you can help me now!”

“Yeah? You close, doll? I fucking hope so, ‘cause I swear ‘m gonna cum again, any second.”

Bucky moved his hand from your waist, sliding it between you and searching for your clit. You gasped, the bundle of nerves so sensitive, so engorged you knew it wouldn’t take much to make you…

You let out a loud whine, your body clenching down on his cock and your fingernails curling into the flesh of pecs as the pleasure washed over your body.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it. Fuck! So beautiful when you cum. Gonna fill you up… you’re gonna have me leaking outta you for days…”

His words were cut off, becoming a shout as he came. And, fuck, he hadn’t been joking. You could feel him pulsing inside you, feel the warmth of his cum filling you, and then leaking out of you, coating your thighs. It felt as though your orgasm just kept going as you rode out the aftershocks, jolts of pleasure continuing to shoot through you, just as you thought there couldn’t possibly be any more.

Eventually they stopped and you slumped forward onto Bucky’s sweaty body. His arm came around your waist and rolled the pair of you to lie sideways on the bed. Your eyelids drooped; you were so tired. You desperately wanted to sleep but…

“Jimbo!”

You tried to sit up, but Bucky urged you back down.

“It’s okay. You sleep, okay, doll?” I’ll pop down, take him outside then make sure he has his food, yeah? Then I’ll be back, ready to sleep next to you, all night long. That sound alright?

You smiled softly, high on dopamine and sleepy as hell.

“Sounds perfect, Bucky. Thank you for helping.”

“No problem at all, doll. No problem at all.

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #disabled bucky barnes #blind reader #bucky barnes fics #fic request #late writes #bucky barnes bingo #bbb23

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baconsoapp · 7 days

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Cane User Stevie

This is another one of my old headcanons, with old art to match :p

(also just know all of my aus tend to blend together okay bye)

more under the cut

Firstly, we all know Stevie has a plethora of health conditions. My headcanon is that the culmination of all of them require her to use a cane.

Bucky gifted her with one when her limping and stumbling got really bad, she once even fell over (from somehow standing upright).

She argued with him at first, saying while she appreciates the gesture, she really shouldn't use it (nonsense, she's dealing with a lot of internalized ableism). But she finally concedes and uses it, and it is extremely helpful.

Then she tries to enlist in the army, despite Bucky's protest. She gets chosen, super soldier shenanigans ensue. Now she's the perfect soldier, impeccable and void of any flaws.

But she can't help but miss it. She missed its strength, the polished finish, rubbing her fingernails along the smooth wood. Most of all, she missed having something else to rely on and to catch her fall. Much like the person who gifted her the stick.

After she came out of the ice, there were many days she visited the Smithsonian, wandered into her own exhibit, and stared at the cane behind the glass, propped up next to a picture of her long lost friend.

#steve rogers #disabled headcanon #trans headcanon #mtf cap #captain america #stucky #stevebucky #bucky barnes #marvel fanart #baconsoapp art

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gay-jewish-bucky · 9 months

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As a disabled person, one of my favourite dynamics is Bucky getting other people to do things for him (things he could totally do himself, just can't be bothered to do) by being dramatic about his missing arm.

#do i use my shitty legs to get people to get me drinks from the fridge just a few meters away from my room? daily #marvel #mcu #bucky #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #disability

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gay-disabled-characters-showdown · 15 days

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LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 1, Wave 2, Poll 6

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes-Marvel

Qualifications:

Missing his arm and commonly headcanoned as gay

Propaganda:

He's Bucket Barnes

Eichi Tenshouin-Ensemble Stars!!

Qualifications:

Eichi has an unspecified autoimmune disease that’s been keeping him in the hospital since he was young. Eichi has said that before meeting Wataru, he had never experienced love before. Eichi first saw Wataru on his TV in a hospital room, and thought of Wataru as a being loved by god unlike himself. For a lot of the story Eichi felt like Wataru was an unreachable being because of that, but finally accepts Wataru’s love at the end of eplink. Also when Eichiwas in the hospital he dreamed of Wataru as an angel coming to fly through the sky with him during Christmas, which is widely regarded as a celebration between lovers in Japan with the young adults/adults. I think Eichi once said that he was going to carve his existence into Wataru’s heart in element as well. In the 6th dream live the choreography was changed so that Wataru and Eichi did the Waltz after the second chorus.

Propaganda:

Read eplink, tempest, element, daydream novel, and blackbird that shit will change your life.

Submitted by @http-vanrouge

#polls #poll #disabled characters #lgbtq characters #disability #lgbtq #lgbtq dcs round 1 #lgbtq dcs wave 2 #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #marvel #the winter soldier #eichi tenshouin #ensemble stars

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violet-phoenix-nebula · 30 days

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Stigma and illness

"We do not want to reckon with a world that is merely unfair; where some people get sick, not because they did something wrong but because the world is unjust, and insofar as it is just, it's random.

"And so, we tell ourselves we understand, which too often means creating explanations that blame the sufferer. Stigma is a way of saying 'you deserved this to happen', but implied within the stigma is also 'and I don't deserve it, and so I don't need to worry about it happening to me'.

"Stigma can become a kind of double burden for the sick. In addition to living with the physical and psychological challenges of illness there's the additional challenge of having their humanity discounted. Think of the word universally used in English to describe Tuberculosis patients in the 18th and 19th centuries. They were called 'invalids'. They were literally invalid.

"People living with TB today have told me that fighting the disease was hard, but fighting the stigma of their communities was even harder."

...

"Finally, the origin, or perceived origin of a disease also matters. If an illness is seen to be the result of choice it is much more likely to be stigmatized.

"So for instance, people with major depression are often told to just 'choose to be happier' just as those with substance abuse disorders are told to just 'choose to quit drinking'. And some cancers and heart diseases are stigmatized for resulting from purported choice as well.

"Of course, this is not how biology works. Illness has no moral compass, it does not punish the evil and reward the good, it doesn't know about evil and good. But we want life to be a story that makes sense, which is why, for example, it was commonly believed up until the middle of the 20th century that cancer was caused by things like social isolation, parents were actually told their kids got leukemia because they hadn't been adequately loved as infants.

"If a clear cause and effect isn't present, we will invent one, even if it's cruel."

John Green - The Deadliest Infectious Disease of All Time

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disabilityshowdown · 1 year

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[IDs: Bucky is a white man with medium length brown hair and a stubbled beard. He is dressed in leather military gear and his left arm has been replaced with a metal prosthetic. All Might is a very muscular tan skinned man with medium length blond hair, dressed in a white shirt and posing for a selfie]

#disability showdown #round one #bucky barnes #winter soldier #marvel #bnha #all might #yagi toshinori

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amarriageoftrueminds · 8 months

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*points originally in a tag-dump under another post about* Bucky's goodness + Steve's belief in him

+ the fact that the superserum worked on Bucky is empirical proof of his goodness:

+ this is also why the serum worked on Isaiah Bradley. + imagine if Isaiah had been made the Winter Soldier instead

Seriously it's a pretty eye-opening thought exercise to put any other character in Bucky's place and see just how poorly he's treated.

Do people really think Steve would hear about a man who had the same magic ‘only works on good people’ juice as him, tortured and enslaved by Hydra for decades… and then just NOT help him?

imagine if you had Sam saying 'Steve this 'Isaiah' guy he's not someone you save he's someone you stop.'

Nat saying 'Steve I know this matters to you but let the police handle Isaiah someone will arrest you if you interfere, it will inconvenience us all.' (LOL Nat have you met Steve who wrote this)

Sam agreeing, 'maybe Nat's right maybe we shouldn't bother helping Isaiah against the police in case they shoot at us,' and dismissing the fact that Isaiah could do good: ‘1945, maybe.’

When Isaiah was the guy that pulled Steve out of the river?

(And meanwhile the CIA have given police, that Nat and Sam are telling Steve not to interfere with, orders to shoot Isaiah dead on sight? quelle surprise)

Steve would still be arguing that it should be him to bring Isaiah in, since he's least likely to die trying.

He would still have put taking down the Insight helicarriers first, and been reluctant (but willing) to dislocate his arm for that very important reason.

He would still have lifted up the steel beam pinning Isaiah down

(and probably still tried to talk him out of his mind-control, even if he failed.)

imagine if everyone (Sam, Nat, Steve, Sharon, etc.) saw Isaiah -- when mind-controlled -- suddenly demonstrating a drastically different personality

and imagine if Steve and Sam saw Isaiah waking up with amnesia.. then proving his memory of his good, non-WS personality... but Sam was still rude/hostile to Isaiah anyway, insisting he and Steve should not be ‘cool' with him (then telling Isaiah he hates him).

Tony saying 'I don’t care that Isaiah was mind-controlled he killed my mom imma murder him just to spite you for not trusting me not to murder people.'

imagine if you had the therapist telling Isaiah he needs to be monitored by the state to prove he’s not giving into his innate violence, giving him rules to follow like a child, (and he’s pardoned, not exonerated, meaning he had to admit to crimes he wasn’t responsible for in order to get a modicum of freedom) and that it’s bullshit to suggest Isaiah just wants some peace

Ayo telling Isaiah 'you are free' 😌 as he finally escapes his bondage, watching him cry with relief, then: ‘SIKE! we put a booby-trap in ur limb the trust was a lie.’

Sam cracking jokes about Isaiah's trauma, dehumanizing him as a killing machine

taking part in a plot where Isaiah has to pretend to be WS, be sold to another human being, and have rape jokes cracked about him,

but then still being like 'listen Isaiah if you really want to apologise f̶o̶r̶ ̶b̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶a̶ ̶s̶l̶a̶v̶e̶ you should just do the work.' 😔

*event horizon voice* DO YOU SEE? DO YOU SEE?? 😬

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late-to-the-party-81 · 4 months

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Finders Keepers - Chapter Two

AN: Welcome back to chapter two, where we find out more about our Reader and Bucky, their personal history and their history together. I hope you enjoy.

Beta’d by @mrs-illyrian-baby

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard by me.

Bingo Fills - @buckybarnesbingo Square B2 - Futuristic/Sci-fi

@buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo December square - Flashbacks

Chapter One

Master list | BBB Master list | BaBB Master list

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Chapter word count: 3.8k

Chapter CW: Cyberpunk/Futuristic AU, Flashbacks, Minor Enby Characters, Hydra, Whump, Traumatic injuries (but not discussed in detail), Angst, Bucky being a dick, Sassy reader, Minor background PepperRhony

Chapter Two - The past is future

July 9th, 2181

The man practically beamed as he looked at his partner, sitting up in the hospital bed, holding their newly born child. They were obviously very tired, but to him, they’d never looked so radiant than they did right now. He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out his hand to stroke over the top of your small head, astounded by how fragile you looked. When he looked up again his gaze locked with that of his life-mate.

“I still can’t believe that you did that.” His voice was raw with emotion and he didn’t even try to stop the joyous tears that rolled down his cheeks. “You made this tiny thing and brought them into the world and…” He stopped briefly while he choked up. “And you were so brave. My sweet, wonderful, darling.” He leant over and kissed the person you would later refer to as ‘Momo’ on their forehead, before he went back to studying you, his perfect sunbeam of a child.

Elsewhere in the city a boy, probably no more than eight, ran through the back streets, skidding around a corner as he sought to escape the person chasing him. He’d been practising his pickpocketing skills, and apparently he hadn’t perfected it yet, given the shouts and heavy footsteps of the man behind him. What he did have though was climbing skills and a young, nimble body.

With practised ease, Bucky leapt up onto the pile of abandoned crates, the polymer flexing under his feet and providing the amount of bounce he needed to reach the bottom rung of the fire escape ladder. He scrambled up, the metal rungs clanging under his feet, and the disgruntled voice fell away behind him. When he reached the roof he dragged in several lungfuls of air and then let out a loud whoop of joy. The credits that he’d swiped would buy some extra fruit and vegetables for his sisters, so they could grow up big and strong. He knew his mother would roll her eyes when he came home with it all, but she wouldn’t ask him either. He’d been told many times by her that in this life you never looked a gift horse in the mouth. Whatever a horse was.

March 17th, 2190

You were too excited and just couldn’t contain it. You knew you were supposed to stay sat down, but how could you when kneeling up on the seat meant you could look out of the window properly and feel like you were flying like a bird? Next to you, your Dad chuckled, entertained by your innocent antics. He’d been invited to a work conference and had been allowed to bring you and Momo with him. While he attended workshops and symposiums, Momo had promised that the two of you would go swimming and shopping, and see the sights. The prospect of that had been more than enough to excite your almost 9 year old self, but when you found out that your Dad’s company was getting you there in a personal transport vehicle, you’d almost taken off like one.

You were going to fly! You were going to see the clear, cloud-free sky and the bright sun. It felt like all of your birthdays had come at once.

Down on the ground, Bucky kicked at the dirt, a pout plastered across his face as he tried not to cry. He was sixteen, for frack’s sake, too old for tears. And who cared about a stupid birthday anyway? There were far more important things to think about, like Becca and Ruthie, and Ma.

The tears welled with vigour when he thought about the changes the years had wrought to her. It had been bad enough the day that Da left and never came home, sometime in the summer he turned ten, but to see his Ma get sicker and more frail over the last year had been almost more than he could bear. Added to that was the fact that her illness meant she was working less, and credits had already been stretched to the limit. There was only so much the odd bit of pick-pocketing could get him.

Despite his resolve, a tear broke free and rolled down his cheek.

“Hey there!” A voice broke through Bucky’s solitude and he looked up to see another boy, a young man, maybe a few years older than him standing with a group of his friends. “You look like you’re down on your luck. Maybe me and the boys can help you out. The name’s Brock.”

Bucky sniffed and wiped his face with his sleeve. “I’m Bucky,” he replied as he stood, trying to make himself look taller. Older. “And the only way you can help me is if you know a way of making credit.”

Brock smiled and his eyes glittered. “If it’s credits you’re after, then my boss, Mr Pierce, can definitely help you out with that.” He swaggered over and dropped his arm around Bucky’s shoulder, pulling him into a half-hug. “Welcome to Hydra, Bucky. We can help you get anything you want.”

January 1st, 2200

He knew there was pain, but he couldn’t quite feel it any more. The world around him was fuzzy and white. Bright lights. Buzzing. Beeping. People scurrying around him like ants.

Why was he lying down? And what was that noise? It sounded like crying.

Becca.

Ruthie.

“His O2 sats are dropping.”

“He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“I’m not getting a radial pulse in his left arm. We’re going to have to amputate.”

He heard the words, but they sounded as though they were coming from underwater and it was hard to understand.

A bright light shined in his eyes and he winced.

“Mr Barnes. Can you talk?”

A groan was the only response he was capable of.

“We’ve got a possible TBI here.”

“Prep for surgery.”

The last thing he remembered was going for a big score with Rumlow, Rollins and the other guys. They’d said a grav-train coming from upstate was gonna be ripe for the picking - full of all sorts of things they could either use or sell on for credits.

They’d jumped down onto the roof, just as it was pulling out of the station and was still going slowly and climbed down the ladder on the back car to get inside. What they hadn’t anticipated though, was the guard. There had been a scuffle, led by Rumlow, as Bucky had brought up the rear. He’d flinched at the distinctive whine of a phase pistol being discharged and then gasped at the sight of the guard lying on the ground, unmoving and smoke rising from his chest. Rumlow had turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised in challenge and Bucky’s fight or flight response kicked in. Unfortunately it hadn’t been the former option. The problem was that the rear door was still open, and the vehicle had picked up speed. Before Bucky had even known what had happened he’d slipped and fallen from the train, reaching out with his arms to grab something. Anything.

He couldn’t remember any more after that because it all went dark with the hiss of the hypodermic spray filling his body with sedation. Even if he had been awake he wouldn’t have been aware of what happened on the other side of the ER.

The external doors whooshed open, a grav gurney being moved along by two emergency staff while two other adults ran alongside, one clutching the small hand of the teen who lay upon it.

“Momo, I’m scared.”

Your Momo looked at you and flashed you a wan smile full of false bravado, rubbing their hand over your hair.

“I know, sweetheart, but the doctors are going to do everything they can to help you.”

Tears flooded down your face. You’d been so stupid and now you were going to pay the price.

“I can’t feel my foot.”

You didn’t miss the way your father’s eyes darted down to the bloody cloth covering the lower half of your right leg. He had a death grip on your hand.

“It’ll be alright, honey. I know it will.”

You cried more when you reached another set of doors and the hospital workers told your parents they couldn’t go with you any further. You’d fucked up your life and now had to live with the consequences.

October 8th, 2205 - 6 months ago

You only needed one more item to complete this order, and it would be your biggest payday to date. You couldn’t keep the grin from your face at the thought. You even knew where there was a promising looking junk pile. With any luck you’d be able to find the item quickly, spruce it up and get your credits.

You quickened your pace, almost jogging down the sidewalk, weaving around other denizens going about their daily business. There were the usual hawkers - some selling legitimate items, some not -, the food vendors and the sex workers. You raised your hand in greeting as you passed Kiki, standing on their corner. The young sex worker was popular and always seemed to act in a safe manner, but it didn’t stop you from worrying about them, or keeping an eye on them when you could. The irony that you’d taken on a ‘mom’ role with them, when you were only a few years older, was not lost on you.

You turned the corner and spied the junk heap up ahead, behind an eight foot fence. As you got closer you frowned at the low buzzing sound of the forcefield that separated you from your goal. It would slow you down, but luckily it wouldn’t stop you. You had a vast array of skills you’d perfected since you’d started this line of work. It might not make your parents proud, but it kept you in credits and off the streets.

Kneeling down by the side of the forcefield, you pulled a small device from your pocket - your field disruptor. Not a new concept by any means, but this one was of your own design, and could create a brief, stable hole in most forcefields you’d come across. You grinned as you switched it on, turning the dial to find the frequency required to disrupt the field and make an aperture you could fit through. It began to work and your grin grew broader as you watched the gap grow until it was big enough and you ducked through it, switching your disruptor off and pocketing it. Now it was time to get on with the actual job.

The pile of discarded tech you now faced was the biggest you’d seen since you’d started Finding and your enthusiasm grew as you thought about all the credits you could amass by reconditioning different items. And whilst you were really only there for one thing, you couldn’t help but pick up some of the smaller, interesting things you saw and stuff them into your backpack. In fact you were so intent on searching through all the bits of discarded metal, plastic and wire, crouched down on the floor, that you didn’t notice the arrival of another person until a shadow fell across you.

“Who the hell are you?”

At the gruff exclamation, you spun around and rose to full height. Ice blue eyes peered at you from behind a black domino mask. The man - you were sure it was a ‘him’ - was tall and broad, dressed head to toe in black, with a prosthetic left arm on show - an arm that was whirring as he clenched his fist. It took a moment but -

“Shit. You’re Bucky Barnes. You scared me.”

Internally you were in awe. You’d heard so much about him, how he was one of the best Finders in the city. He was known to be fair in his pricing, even offering instalment schemes for clients who’d proved themselves a good bet. If you could team up with him, initiate some kind of partnership, it would be invaluable for your reputation. You knew you had the skills, you just needed some more word of mouth recommendations.

“I know who I am, doll”, he drawled, condescendingly. “Doesn’t answer the question of who you are or why you’ve broken into my territory.” He took a menacing step forward and you backed up until you were stopped by the pile of junk behind you. Bucky reached out his left hand and braced it on the heap, half blocking you in, his right hand on his hip, very close to the holstered Stunner hanging there. The whirr of his arm was even louder now, and your excitement at having met such a well-known person in your industry gave way to rising anxiety.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise this was your turf. I’m just here looking for something. I’m a Finder like you. And I was thinking, maybe, that we could…”

“I don’t care what you think,” came the snapped interruption. “I don’t allow trespassers and I don’t work with anyone else. All of this is mine, so you can empty out that backpack of yours and then you can fuck off.” Bucky tightened his hand around the lump of metal sticking out by your head and you heard it squeal as he crushed it in his mechanical grip, the unsaid threat transmitted to you loud and clear.

With a scowl on your face you shoved him back with both your hands - and he let you - giving yourself enough space to upend your bag and unceremoniously dump its contents at his booted feet. He smirked at you as you did so, and you felt your annoyance grow.

“Go fuck yourself, Barnes,” you ground out. However, he just grinned at you, holding his arms wide as he took a few swaggering steps backwards.

“I do, doll. Every night. And you know what? I’m pretty great. Now get out of here. I won’t be as ‘nice’ if I find you here again.” With that he turned and walked away, ignoring the items you’d discarded. It was as though his ire was more about your intrusion than your theft, and despite your anger and frustration at him, you couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in his past to make him like that.

Of course that wasn’t your last run in with him. You’d had to do some recon in order to discover just how much of that area of the city Barnes saw as his own personal Finding zone, which inevitably meant treading on his toes. Whenever you’d realised you were getting close to the border you’d slow down and make yourself obvious so that he couldn’t accuse you of trying to purposely trespass. You’d known that you’d found the boundary when you had the overriding feeling of being watched and you’d learned pretty quickly that Barnes preferred high vantage points, not unlike a sniper of old. With that knowledge, you’d look up and scan the building tops and when you’d finally identified his perch you’d nod your head and give him a little mocking salute before turning on your heel and going back the way you’d come.

The thing, though, about establishing boundaries, is that you can learn the best way to push them. All your research meant that you’d worked out which were the areas furthest away from where he normally situated himself - the ones it took him the longest time to get to - which meant that sometimes, if you weren’t slow and weren’t obvious, you could sneak into the edges of those areas and get away with picking up the odd Find here and there. The only thing was that sometimes you weren’t sure you were actually getting away with it. Every so often you had the unmistakable feeling that Bucky knew what you were doing and was just letting you. But if that was the case, why? What was his long game? Which is why you’d taken the risk you had yesterday and been caught for your troubles, leading you to where you were now - annoyed at having your breakfast interrupted.

You scowled at Barnes across your table, your good mood evaporated. For once, he didn’t have his domino mask on, and you were caught between trying to maintain your anger at his intrusion and noticing how absolutely stunning he was. You snorted. Of course he would be annoyingly handsome. He emanated charisma as he leant against the booth back, his arms resting on the top of it on either side of him, appearing totally nonchalant.

“You stalking me, Barnes?” you grumbled.

His response was to firstly raise a brow mockingly, and then answer “Would I do a thing like that? That would be as bad as sneaking into someone's territory and stealing from them.”

You rolled your eyes, absolutely fed up with his game playing. “Alright, you caught me. Happy now?”

His gaze locked with yours and you fought the urge to shrink into your seat. “No.”

A heartbeat’s silence passed before you blurted out “What are you going to do about it then? Spank me?” and then instantly regretted it. The flash of emotion that passed over his face heated you from the inside out and you squirmed. What on earth had possessed you to say that? Because now the only image in your head involved being laid over his broad thighs, head now, ass up, and…

“As tempting as that offer is, doll, no. I’m not gonna spank you. As you fulfilled your Find request with something taken from me, I think it only fair that we split the profits. As you did the leg work, and the repair work, I’m prepared to be generous. I suggest a seventy/thirty split.”

At that moment Tony appeared, his usual effervescent self, to take both your orders and after requesting your usual you had a few moments to mull over Barnes’ offer whilst he asked about the daily specials.

It would probably be worth accepting his offer, just to keep him on side, even if it meant parting with thirty percent of your credits. And maybe, if you kept him sweet, it could lead to more team ups and finally that partnership you were angling for.

Tony smiled at Bucky before turning back to you. “It’s nice to see you here with someone, Turbo.” You rolled your eyes at the daft nickname he’d given you when you’d first met him as a rambunctious and speedy four year old. He then dropped his voice to a stage-whisper, a complete non-effort at subtlety and said “He’s handsome. Seems like a keeper to me,” before walking off quickly without giving you the chance to set him straight.

A dull thud sounded from where your head connected with the table top and you bit out “Don’t even start”, at Bucky before he could snigger. But you needed to be professional and ready to negotiate with the man who insisted on being a thorn in your side, so you sat back up and straightened your spine.

“Okay,” you started, desperately trying not to sound nervous, “so you want thirty percent of my earnings for this Find to recompense you for the fact that the item may have been acquired from your side of the border?”

You were interrupted once more by the amused snort that came from Barnes’ lips. “Oh, dollface”, he drawled. “You misunderstand me. I want seventy percent. You get to keep the thirty.” For a moment all you could do was gape at him in shock, mouth open as you processed what he’d said. Then you got angry.

“What the actual fuck, Barnes. Really?”

He nodded slowly. “Really. And I think I’m being more than generous.”

“You really are a grade-A asshole, you know that?”

He shrugged. “So I’ve been told. But I’m not budging. I could have fulfilled that Find myself and gotten a hundred percent of the fee, so, sweetheart…” He took his arms off the back of the booth bench and leant forward, as far into your space as he could get with a table in the way. “Take thirty or take nothing. I can assure you, I’m more than happy with the latter option if you wanna go with that. But you fight me on this, I will make sure that not only will you not get into my territory ever again, no-one will want to hire you as their Finder after I spread the word about how you try to steal from others in the business.”

There it was. The ultimatum he knew would get you to capitulate, because you couldn't call his bluff and risk losing your semi-stable stream of income. If you’d been angry before, you were now incandescent with rage.

You pushed out of the booth, staring down at Bucky as your nostrils flared, almost bumping into Tony as he appeared with your food and looked on at the confrontational scene in confusion.

“Sorry, Tony. My appetite appears to have deserted me.” You didn’t take your eyes off Bucky for one second. He was such a smug bastard.

You reached into your pocket and retrieved the handful of credit slips you’d obtained only an hour ago and flung them towards Barnes, hoping that most would fall on the floor so he’d have to scrabble to retrieve them.

“My friend here will pay for both our meals. I’m afraid I don’t have as many credits as I thought I did. Give my love to Pepper and James.” Turning on your heel, you stalked out, trying to ignore the stares and muttering from other patrons, embarrassment heating your cheeks. Your boots thudded heavily on the pavement outside and you wrapped your arms around your body. What the fuck were you going to do now? You’d needed those credits. Yes, you had a new job lined up, but it might take you a few days before you could fulfil it.

Fuck!

Fuck Bucky Barnes and his stupid personal rules and his stupid handsome face.

You turned down the alley that would lead you home the quickest. You needed to get back and work out where you could search for your next Find and whether any of the items you had in your meagre store were currently being sought out by anyone on the message boards. You disliked searching for jobs, preferring them to come to you, but sometimes it was required, and now was one of those times.

The hustle and bustle of the main street was quieter here, and the lights of the stores, as well as the general daylight, duller. You had nothing to fear though. You knew these streets and most of the folk here knew you. However, you suddenly got the uneasy feeling that you were being followed, so you sped up your walk, hoping to lose whoever was tailing you. It was probably Barnes, the bastard.

A strange sound came from behind you, a whooshing, and then a metal pipe collided with, luckily, your right leg, letting out a clang. You still went down though, rolling in the dirt and stopping on your back. You looked up, not into a smug face with ice blue eyes, but a rough and scarred one with hazel eyes. What the fuck was going on now?

Chapter 3

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @sonatabee-blog, @goldylions, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @apenny4thots, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #disabled reader #late writes

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