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sebastianstanisahotmf · 3 months

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First 'date'

Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N Sorry for not being active I've just been spending time with friends and family but I'm back now! Also, this is going to be a series but idk how often I will update it.

THIS IS NOT AN 18+ FIC BUT I STILL FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH MINORS READING MY FICS SO PLEASE DNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR.

Summary You and Bucky go on a first 'date'

DO NOT REPOST ONTO ANY OTHER APPS/WEBSITES. THE ONLY PLACE THIS FIC IS ON IS TUMBLR.

Warnings Fluff

You couldn't remember the last time you felt so nervous. You were getting ready for a date with James (or Bucky as he tells you to call him.) You met him on a dating app and were texting for two weeks before you decided to go on this date.

As well as feeling nervous, you also felt excited to meet Bucky. He seemed so sweet over text and judging by his profile picture, he was the hottest guy you had ever seen.

You could only hope he was like this in real life.

“Can I come in now?” your friend, Ella, shouted from the other side of your bedroom door.

“Yeah,” you shouted back.

Your so-called ‘date’ was more of a meeting at a coffee shop so you were wearing a slightly oversized shirt, your favourite jeans, and a pair of black sneakers. You had minimal makeup on and your hair was styled in a way that made you feel confident.

You and Bucky are anxious people and agreed that a coffee shop would be a much more calming environment when meeting each other for the first time.

“Do I look ok?” you asked Ella.

“You look amazing y/n!”

“Really?” you questioned.

“You're going to a coffee shop, not a Michelin-star restaurant,” Ella told you.

“Ok,” you took a deep breath, “I’m ready.”

You grabbed your bag off your bed and made sure you had everything you needed.

“I'll see you later,” you told Ella.

“I'll see you later if you don't end up getting laid.”

You rolled your eyes and left the apartment you shared with Ella.

The coffee shop was a five-minute walk away so you weren't in a hurry to get there.

—------------------------------------------------------

Once you got there you scanned the shop and your eyes landed on the man sitting at the table in the corner. You could only see the back of his head but he was dressed in all black and that's what Bucky told you he wore.

You cautiously approached him so as not to scare him.

“A-are you Bucky?” you asked.

The man turned around and smiled at you, “I am.” he replied.

“Thank God, if you said no I was gonna be so embarrassed,” you walked over to the chair across from him and sat down.

“How are you today?” he asked, cringing at the question.

“I was a little nervous earlier but I feel better since you seem to be in a similar state,” you responded with a chuckle.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, rubbing the back of his head.

“Just a little bit, but you don’t have to feel bad about it,” you assured him.

You looked at the table where his hands were resting. You noticed the black gloves but didn’t say anything, you knew who he was but weren’t sure if he knew that and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. You didn’t see him as a bad person or a villain. You did your research on him a while back and you could’ve never blamed him for his actions, he didn’t have control of himself at the time.

He seemed so genuine and kind, nothing like the monster the government made him out to be. You started to speak about how your week had been so far and you thought it was funny how Bucky spoke about his friend Sam who he seemed to love and hate at the same time.

“Do you want to order now?” he asked you.

You just nodded in response.

“If you want I can order for us,” Bucky offered.

You told him your order and thanked him for ordering for you. He got up from his seat and walked over to the counter to order. He told the barista the drinks he wanted and paid. As he was waiting for the drinks he looked over to you and smiled.

You returned his smile and butterflies erupted in your stomach. You tried to calm your nerves by looking at your lap.

A few minutes later, Bucky returned with the drinks and sat back down.

“Thanks,” you told him, “you didn’t have to buy my drink for me.”

“It’s the least I could do doll,” he told you with a smile.

You both continued to get to know eachother even more until the barista came over to tell you that closing time was in 5 minutes.

“So I guess that’s the end of our date,” Bucky chuckled, “ I hope I wasn’t too boring.”

“Hey, don’t put your self down, I had a good time,” you gave him a small smile.

You said your goodbyes and went your separate ways.

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As you walked through the door of your apartment, you were bombarded by Ella.

“So how did it go with Bucky?” he wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“It was really good, I hope we can go on another date, maybe to a restaurant next time,” you told her with a smile on your face.

Ella squealed and pulled you further into your apartment.

You were about to go into the livingroom when you heard the notification sound on your phone go off.

“Who is it?” Ella inquired.

“It’s Bucky,” you replied, clicking on the notification, “He wants to go on another date!” you almost shouted with excitement.

“Fuck yeah, my bestie is finally gonna get that D.”

“Calm down, you’re more excited about me having sex with Bucky then I am,” you laughed.

The rest of the night was spen watching movies whilst eating snacks and telling Ella everything about your ‘date’ with Bucky.

If you want to be tagged whenever I post a fic then click on the link

If you want to see what I repost, my other account is @sebastianstanisahotmf-reblogs

Taglist:

@nicoline1998enilocin @buckys-wintersoldier @kenzs-world @booscherripop @hisredheadedgoddess28 @kandis-mom @cutedisneygrl

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buckyarchives · 1 year

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Domestic Life Of a Living With a Runaway Assassin. [Intro.]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x soulmate!reader

Summary: you hate many things in life. you hate soulmates. you hate the avengers. you hate guns. you hate loud snorers and complicated relationships.

Bucky Barnes is associated with all of those things, yet you can't find yourself hating him

W.c: 2.1K

Series playlist linked here

Author note: this was actually one of my first long form fics I wrote in many years, its carrys a nostalgic feeling and means a lot to me. i wrote it like last October and thought abt kinda rewriting some stuff and posting it here! I thought some of you guys woudk enjoy this story. this is only a short darbble that teases the story, next chapter shows how they met and everything after that. It takes place right after CA:TWS and it’s a soulmate AU!

Masterlist

Soulmates.

The legend goes that when the universe was created and whatever higher power you believed in created humans to have two sets of legs, two sets of arms, and two heads. Now because the world is cruel and no one can have nice things, whoever is in charge up there split us up into two beings but forever being connected by our souls. Spending the rest of our life waiting and searching for our other halves. Never being our true whole selves without them. How poetically tragic.

It turned into a weird way to make money nowadays, you felt like no one really cared about the reality of soulmates now. It was made into shitty romance movies, or stupid scientific searches for your one and only soulmate that was definitely an internet scam. People literally faking soul marks towards celebrities for their one chance with them that their delusional minds make up.

All just a desperate attempt to feel whole and loved but your one and true person. Always and forever destined to be.

What a touching story. Too bad you think it's all bullshit

No genuinely, you were supposed to believe your life's purpose was to find this one person in the entire universe that matched you, and without them, you what? you were going to be miserable for the rest of your life? The universe is a scam. You had given up on the whole mad search for your other half years ago, you didn't understand why you couldn't go out and find your own partner without having to match up those stupid words on your shoulder.

“I'm sorry, you probably don't feel very safe with me.”

Those stupid words. You hated the idea of soulmates but you couldn't stop yourself from the hours of wondering just what the hell that was supposed to mean. You had no interest in seeking out your soulmate but you could wonder what type of person they may be. Were they really a dangerous person? Would you genuinely not feel safe with the said person when you first meet? Would you even meet them?

Questions had swirled through your head since the day you got it. Those questions had died down a little, you were getting older and most of your peers had already met their soulmates. You noticed soulmates were not just romantic, they came in friendships, some didn't work out, some came between children and parents, and some came through your fire escape at night, covered in blood and knocking down your favorite plants.

With a loud crash, your feet carried you through your new york apartment to your living room. You saw the outline of him crouched down on the floor. “I'm so sorry, I know that was your favorite plant.”

Okay, spoiler. You had found your soulmate. You weren't excited about it as the rest of the world expected, but it happened. You weren't some hypocrite that would suddenly abandoned all beliefs and fell head over heels for your soulmate once you met like one of those stupid romance movies you mention earlier, you were not some cliche. Especially not with a poor excuse of a runaway-brainwashed-assassin soulmate, at least you would try convincing yourself that.

“My god Bucky, how many times do I have to tell you to just go through the door.” you pinch the bridge of your nose as the tired old man scrambles to clean up the dirt and scattered pot beneath him. “I mean, you practically live here now.”

“I'm not using the door, someone could see me.”

You think Like that's better than having someone see you climb through the fire escape, asshole. You scoff and shake your head and begin dragging yourself to the kitchen. You had a slight quirk at the end of your lips, an amused smile, you hoped Bucky didn’t see in the dark. Maybe he did, you didn’t really have enough time to ask him the deets on the effects of the serum.

You swing open the cabinet door and grab a trash bag and first aid kit. God only knows how bent out of shape bucky is tonight. Making your way back into your living room, Buckys still muttering under his breath about your stupid plant and “god dammit it's fucking freezing out there.”

throwing the trash back at him, he looks up at you. His eyes are beautiful. His hair is sopping wet and you were hoping to any god above that he wasn't bleeding out on your floor. You were not losing your security deposit for your reckless runaway assassin soulmate. God, that's a mouthful, you need to give him a new nickname.

“So, what's the damage?”

“s’ nothing, I'm just cold. It started raining hard.” he looks like a wet shaking dog. Your heart aches.

You look him up and down. Noticing the water dripping from all his clothing. “I see that.”

You sigh and take a few steps toward him. Bucky eyes follow your moments precisely. He has a bit of a staring problem. You snag the hair tie off your wrist and swiftly tie his brunette wet mop of a head into a little man bun. Cute. you shake your head.

“Stay, I'll be right back.”

Bucky watches you in awe as your body ascends back into the darkness of the room and around a corner. He's uncomfortable and his socks are wet. The leather vest is wet and he feels like he's trapped in his own skin, and Bucky feels too heavy.

Slowly, he begins to unstrap all weapons on his body and toss them to the side so you don't have to see them. You didn't like guns. He had a designated place where he hides them because god-forbid Bucky messes up your apartment aesthetic with his dozen of unsettling and quite scary weapons. Your words, not his.

Unzipping the leather top and peeling the fabric off himself was less than a nice feeling, it made him cringe and sent a quick shiver down his spine. Bucky tossed it to the side, he’ll deal with that tomorrow. His hands feel the thin black shirt that's left, it's wet too. Fucking hell. He doesn’t remember the New York weather being this bad in September, he also barely remembers anything so his memory isn’t too reliable. Bucky slowly peels the fabric over his head, he hopes he doesn't mess up the bun you did, he never did it right.

Bucky hears your feet pad against your floor. He pushes back a smile. You're holding a towel and some clothes. He watches you as you crouch down next to him on the floor, he notices that your eyes are squinted and your bed head is apparent. A twinge of guilt hits him now knowing he had woken you up. Bucky whispers, “I woke you up.”

You sigh, again. “I was having a bad dream anyways.”

“About?”

You inhale, scoffing to yourself. “I was being chased by Jimmy Fallon with a jar of pickles – because you know, I hate pickles – and he was yelling at me about the importance of eating vegetables, but he sounded just like my mom.”

Bucky didn’t remember who Jimmy Fallon was, “you must think you’re so amusing, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Bucky curls his toes and is unfortunately reminded of his very wet socks. He leans forward to untie his hefty boots. Your eyes trail along his naked back, his muscles flex and suddenly you are just a little more awake. You watch his left arm in all its glory, taking note of the ragged and scarred tissues where metal meets skin. Scratch marks are littered around the edges, and you feel sad for him, imagining how those got there. The moonlight highlights his metal arm, making it shine and look quite beautiful. You could never tell Bucky that.

“It's been a week.” you finally breathe out. Bucky freezes in place as his fingers wrap around his laces. He feels guilty again. “And you didn't leave a note this time either. I thought...”

Trailing off, you stop yourself before you say something you were going to regret. Your mind wanders, you felt so incredibly stupid right now. Truth is, you didn't agree with the whole soulmate ordeal but it seemed like ever since your unconventional first meeting with Bucky, he has stuck to you like glue. He just kept coming back and then leaving again.

It took you many of his overnight stays and weirdly domestic mornings making scrambled eggs together and then turning into a worry machine after he leaves. You realized had grown to care for him deeply. Bucky always came back, but you were scared for the day we might not.

Bucky is– literally, a lost puppy. He had been on the run and actively avoiding the few stray agents that knew he was still alive when he met you.

Bucky remembered back when he was a kid, dreaming about the day he would meet his soulmate. He and Steve would stay up all night talking about their soul marks, or just words (as they used to call it), and what they thought their soulmates would be like. Bucky was obsessed and simply put, a hopeless romantic.

Then Steve met his soulmate, Peggy. And then he technically died and Hydra happened, Bucky thought his soulmate would have been dead because he was out of his time now. After being brainwashed and having been broken and put back together by Hydra, Bucky could still never shake the feeling of you still being out there, it was like some instinctive feeling in his bones, he had hope and it was one of the only things keeping him going.

And he was right.

Bucky had many doubts when he first met you, given his situation. But you were not scared. And that was enough for him at the time.

But now he just feels guilty for giving you the burden of being his soulmate. He was trying, really.

“I'm sorry, doll.” his voice didn't sound like his own, he shrugged the rest of his boot off and followed with his socks. Finally. “I should have left a note. I'm safe, you're safe, and I'm here now.”

Bucky heard you sniffled and you turned your head with an embarrassment look and glossy eyes. Like you were ashamed for caring.

“sweetheart...” he scooted closer, hoping you wouldn't mind his damp skin on yours. Bucky reached for you, wrapping his flesh hand around yours and giving you a small squeeze. Your head turned to him, a small smile hidden on your face by the darkness of the room. He saw it. Bucky might even think you're an angel. “I won't leave without saying something next time, I'm sorry.”

“Do I even want to know what you were doing out there?”

He hated lying to you but his life was complicated. “Just trying to fix some things I did.”

You nod. “Good.”

The silence between the two of you isn't uncomfortable, the past few months have been silent– at least with bucky. He is your soulmate. He is also the winter soldier, and the winter soldier is always moving and hiding. Bucky Barnes is always moving, always. He had been that way even way back in the Howling Commandos.

You were his safe haven. Your relationship was on and off but your bond was strong, it was wordless and tentative and strung together by patching wounds at midnight and soft, domestic glances over coffee. Your house– just you were his place where he could just stop, pretend as if nothing mattered and sit on the couch and watch reality television that you loved. Bucky found it questionable but you said “it will help you get with the times.” Bucky just watched it because he knew it made you happy.

Bucky Barnes had been moving all week, fast. He had almost died, twice. He was never going to let you know that though. Bucky was due for some Hell's Kitchen or dance moms. He was also not going to tell you that.

The moonlight was fading and you could hear the faint sound of birds chirping outside, barely silenced by the bustling city life of people leaving for work. You are still sitting next to Bucky, and you nudge him with your elbow. His attention is now drawn to you. You bite your bottom lip, a horrible habit you had, bucky hated it. Bucky brings his thumb up to your face and pulls your lip away from your teeth. He wants to kiss you.

“Go take a shower, you stink.” That works too. He smiles and you laugh. Yeah, Bucky thinks he can stop for just a little longer this time.

Feedback and comments make the work go round, comment to be added to the tag list!

Tag list : @ivywasmaroon @ozwriterchick @slytherinambitious @wintermischief

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky fic #sebastian stan #bucky barns imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x gender neutral reader #sebastian stan x reader

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steviethorn · 2 months

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Bucky as a Boyfriend Headcanons! (Part 1, Pre-dating)

Authors note: just so you guys know, these may be short but I will do more parts. Making longer entries will take more time because of school and work etc. so whether it’s Headcanons or fanfiction, this condition applies. Also, I will include a song in each of my posts that’s kinda like his feelings or messages to you. That’s why it’s there in case you’re curious. Sorry for the inconvenience but anyway, let’s get started!

Song:

So we all know this man is really traumatized. He tries his best and he’s slowly getting better. When he gets to the point of thinking he can be in a relationship and he starts flirting… you may not know it.

At first you just think he’s being friendly. He goes out of his way to show interest in you such as standing closer to you, asking more questions about yourself, etc.

He also may show he’s interested in you by doing things for you. Acts of service is one of his love languages and as much as people would disagree, I think physical touch would be another.

It’s because he’s not good at saying how he feels. Verbal communication is harder for him. He’s not as emotionally open but he will show it. He’ll do things for you, sticks up for you, hold your hand, cuddle etc.

But in the beginning it won’t be as noticeable because like he said in tfatws, he hasn’t done this in a long time and he has to get used to it again. He’ll go slow and it won’t be that noticeable.

Anyway, he will eventually work his way up to awkward but obvious flirting and most of it isn’t what he says, it’s how he says it, if you know what I mean. He’ll show it physically how he’s interested in you. Such as, looking you up and down, lip biting, etc. but Bucky being Bucky he would immediately second guess his actions.

“Sorry, that was really dumb. I don’t know why I did that.”

And then you both would laugh about it.

None of it felt pressured for you. It just seemed like silly flirtatious bonding.

When it gets to the point that it’s obvious and you know he likes you, he will be comfortable enough to take the initiative. He will, albeit awkwardly, ask you out on a date.

“So uh… I wondering if you’d be interested in.. going on a date? Um, with me..”

He would want to do something that you liked. He would be willing to push his comfort zone if it’s something you wanted to do.

“Heh, ice skating huh? Yeah, I’ve never gone ice skating before.. but yeah, we can go.” “No, yeah, it’ll be great.” he said chuckling at the idea of you both on the skating rink, you trying to teach him, and him trying to stay standing. “I can’t wait.”

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kikixreverie · 2 years

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Do you think Bucky would like a very soft and lovely dom reader? I would really focus on his pleasure and I'm more into praise than degradation 🥰 I want to give him the best orgasms of his life and hear my man say “fuck, you’re going to make me cum so fucking hard”

Oh 100%, he'd absolutely melt the minute reader starts praising and being all sweet on him. I hope you enjoy this short blurb of sub!bucky filth <3

Word count... 420 ;)

Also this is gn!reader since no pronouns or body desc were used.

"You're doing so good, Bucky, so patient for me." You praised, giving his cock another painfully slow, lazy stroke, your lower lip caught between your teeth as you teased your thumb across the slit, earning a shiver from the man below you.

He lifted his hips to meet your hand as you stroked him again, head thrown back against the bed, barely able to keep his eyes open.

You'd been teasing him all day, using every opportunity you've had to make him feel good, and now you'd been edging him for almost an hour, and he didn't think he could feel so fucking good.

Over and over again you'd dragged him to the edge, pushing closer and closer to ecstasy, either with your hands or your mouth, and each time, he'd gotten more sensitive than he'd ever thought possible, so in-tune to every touch, every brush of your fingers or swipe of your tongue, even just your hand on his thigh was driving him dizzy.

"God, please-" He groaned, his chest heaving, unable to focus on the simple task of forming a sentence, instead every word that came to mind was your name, and how he wanted to chant it like a prayer.

You stroked him again, this time leaning closer kissing the tip of his cock, his breath catching in his throat, biting back a wanton moan when you kitten licked him, "Please what, honey? What does my pretty Buck need?"

"I need you. Fuck, need you so bad, need to be inside you." He breathed, eyes fluttering closed with every stroke.

When you didn't respond, he opened his eyes and met your gaze, blush dusting his cheeks, and he licked his lips as he drank in the sight of you, leant over his weeping cock, a sweet smirk gracing your lips.

He groaned when you released his cock, but quickly felt his heart thump in his chest as he watched you slide your underwear down your legs, before crawling towards him, and straddling his hips.

Metal and flesh hands instantly landed on your skin, his left holding your hip as his right slid to the small of your back, breathless and drunk on your touch.

You leaned down to press your lips to his, kissing him deeply, before sitting up just enough to finally sink down onto his cock, the both of you letting out a deep, satisfied moan.

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softevnstan · 1 year

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³.⍭ 𝐈𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

pairing. bucky barnes x gender netural!reader

summary. you couldn't believe the name that graced the file on your desk for your new patient. james 'bucky' barnes. you'd heard of him - even studied some of his history during college for psychology classes. never would you have imagined he'd be sent to your office, looking for help.

a.n. yeahhh i couldn't do this as just a one time thing. this is going to be a multi-part i write to update every now and again. so for today you have crumbs of what your first session is like. as someone who's been diagnosed with c-ptsd and has a butt-load of trauma, i'm writing bucky's experience in therapy based on my own. that being said i do not condone patient/therapist irl or any of that power balance outside of fiction. gross. that's the only disclaimer for this series tho going forward, i'm not gonna tag that everytime.

edit. part two is here yall

“So, Mr. Barnes, from what I’m understanding, you'd like to make me your primary therapist and discontinue working with Doctor Raynor?” Perhaps if you knew you’d be in this situation, you would’ve mentally prepared yourself a little better for the day when you got up out of bed that morning.

Being a therapist certainly wasn’t without its obstacles, no – It’s a lot to listen to someone else’s problems and just how many callus and evil things happen in the world. It also has its moments where it reminds you just how vile people can be, too. From children all the way to elderly, you’ve seen countless patients. They come back because you’re passionate about your job; Not looking at these people as paychecks but as living, breathing people. And sometimes people just need someone to talk to; there’s no shame in that.

You just never anticipated you’d have a war hero on your office couch, though. That was not on the radar when you were working towards your Master’s Degree.

James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes sat across from your beige and brown striped armchair on the couch. He looked lonely in the middle; For a man so broad, it would be impressive how small he could make himself if not for the fact it was simultaneously heart wrenching. Cobalt eyes struggled to meet your gaze from the moment he walked into the office to begin the session. His body looked awfully stiff, and his eyes dark like he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in weeks. Perhaps months.

“Yes.” He answers stiffly, “Please.” At least he’s sure to mind his manners despite the clear discomfort radiating from the soldier across from you. But his quiet and taut demeanor is discouraging: “It’s important that you are comfortable here, Mr. Barnes. Therapy is something that works best when it doesn’t feel forced…” “I am comfortable,” Bucky jumps to correct, earning a slight raise of a brow from you before schooling your expression once more. “Comfortable enough. I’m just new to… this.” The man makes a vague gesture with his hands between the both of you; Aching eyes speaking more than words ever will when Bucky briefly raises them to look at you.

The first step is wanting to heal. Bucky’s already showing initiative by being present - by putting his foot forward to try to find a therapist better suited to him rather than just throwing his hands up after the first dead end. That’s good. You can work with that.

Your lips curl into a soft, welcoming smile. “Change can be scary, especially when we don’t understand what all is changing or what could come from it. With us working together, though, I can only do as much as you let me. It’s going to be intimidating, and you may not like it, but I want to help you feel better, Mr. Barnes. You deserve to feel better.” Positive reinforcements are always a good thing so long as they’re not condescending or passive aggressive. It’s all in the delivery, you’ve learned. It’s important patients feel comfortable when they’re with you – how else are they expected to be honest, then?

Bucky looks quizzically for a few moments before once more averting his anxious gaze. It made your heart hurt to see a man so beaten down and on edge; it felt so obvious to you, but then again, you were educated on how to find the tells. You could read him like a book right then. Feel everything radiating off of him, almost.

“What kind of things will you do..?” Bucky inquires after a beat.

“Well, I’d like you to start keeping a journal that we could use for our sessions. It’ll help you keep a record of what you’re feeling and we could use it like a workbook – there’d be homework involved, but there’d be nothing I know you can’t handle.”

“Homework?”

You smile, a nod of your head: “Work sheets, sometimes I’ll ask you to read something for me or answer a few questions, sometimes I’ll give you a worksheet you can use when necessary – then the next time I see you, we’ll go over what you’ve brought back and assess together so I can help you understand.”

He’s tentative to the idea, you can see it. It’s clear Bucky is very selective and reserved. You can only imagine how much strife this poor man has been through. But you see the light in him. You do. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to get better.

“...I don’t want to be unhappy anymore,” Bucky says, almost not catching the words if not for the fact the room is silent except for the two of you. “I can help you, Bucky,” you assure him, voice sincere. “We just need to work together and let me give you the tools to be happy. Do you think you can do that for me, Mr. Barnes?”

It’s clear your words seem to rock Bucky in some way, because he looks at you with something that almost resembles shock. As if he’s never heard anyone say something like that to him, has never wanted to help him become himself again. And if his experiences with Raynor is anything to base off of, Bucky needs a proper support system and someone who’s there with his best interest in mind. You can be that for him - even if it is your job irregardless.

He’s silent, eyes darting away and breaking the brief moment of eye contact between the both of you. Then, a nod.

“I can try.” it might as well be a promise.

“That’s all I’ll ever ask of you.”

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shadecrux · 10 months

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Bad Day (Bucky Barnes x Reader -drabble)

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°•★Pairing: Bucky Barnes / Reader °•★Rating: SFW

°•★Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Established Romantic Relationship, Pet Names, Doll, But Otherwise Gender Neutral Reader °•★ Words: 669 (nice!) °•★ Notes: Hey all, so this is the first fic I’ve ever published on tumblr, pls be nice! I finished up my own bad day today and sort of, ended up writing this drabble as a way to get out those feelings. This is the first time I’ve written as Bucky, so I hope I’ve done him justice!! Despite the use of pet names I tried to leave out physical descriptions of the reader as much as possible so anyone can envision themselves in that role. If anyone has any notes for how to do it better I am definitely open to that! ~All writing unless otherwise noted is my own. Please do not post or reupload my work to other websites without my express consent. I do not consent for my fics to be used in AI creations. I do not own any of the characters featured in my works unless they are stated to be OCs.~ All of my fanworks are intended for adults aged 18 and up only! Minors please DNI. ----------------˚ * •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙* ˚＊------💜 💚 💜------＊* •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙ * ˚----------------

You were curled up on the couch when he got home, eyes glistening with tears too stubborn to fall, hugging your knees to your chest. It had just been such a bad day. It seemed as though nothing was going right, and by the end of it, everything hurt.

Bucky walked through the door and saw you, immediately dropping the bags he had been holding and rushing over to sit beside you and pull you into his arms.

"What happened doll, what's wrong?

"You shake your head, turning your body to curl against him, burying your face in his shoulder.

"Can't..."

"Hey, hey it's okay. You don't need'ta talk about it right now if it's too much ok? Just hang on to me, I've got you."

You nod and wrap your arms around him, sliding yourself closer to him until you're halfway in his lap. Bucky simply hums and squeezes you more tightly, his arms around you strong and steady and solid, an anchor to hold you there with him.

Finally, finally, the tears come, and your body is wracked with sobs as he soothes you, gently stroking your hair, and pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

"Shh, shh... it's alright. That's it... let it out." He whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

He didn't really speak, just murmured soft, soothing sounds into your ear, rocking with you on the couch until tears stained his shirt , until you began to still against his and he could feel the tension draining out of your shoulders. His hands gently slid up and down your back, kneading your muscles, grounding you until he finally heard you sigh, and you lifted your head to look at him.

Seeing the large wet patch on his shirt your face twisted into a frown, and you look up at him apologetically.

"Bucky, I'm so sorry, your shirt..."

"Don't you worry about that sweetheart. It's just a little wet."

He reached up to cup your cheek in his hand, lifting your chin slightly until you were looking at him, his bright blue eyes piercing as they gazed into yours.

"How are you feeling now?"

"A little better..."

"Well, that's a start." he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours, pausing a moment before his voice took on a lighter, more teasing tone. "But I'm not exactly satisfied with that answer. I think we're gonna need to do a little bit better."

"Oh really?" you asked, the barest hint of a grin tugging at your lips.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, for starters..."His breath fanned your face as he tilted his head, kissing you sweetly, his lips impossibly soft as they connected with yours. Bucky kissed you slowly, hand gently cupping the base of your neck, holding without forcing. Your lips moved against his, and by the time you pulled back for air you were dizzy and lightheaded, and what's more... you were smiling.

"How about now?" he asked with a lazy grin and just a hint of smugness in his voice.

"Definitely better." You laughed.

"And how about after a bath, dinner, and a movie? I'll cook tonight." He gently nudged his head against yours.

"Right now? That sounds like a perfect night." You replied, and he didn't waste another moment, scooping you up into his arms and standing to carry you through the apartment toward the bath.

There would be plenty of time later to talk about the things that had gone wrong if you wanted to. For now, Bucky's only concern was making sure you were okay - he would take care of you, and give you the space to relax and recover

. By the end of the night, the two of you would be cuddled up on the couch, doubled over with laughter at some dumb movie, the hurts of the day slowly fading into the past.

By the end of the night, when you were laying down beside him to sleep, you would still be smiling.

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x reader fanfic #fluff #drabble #sebastian stan #gender neutral reader #he does call them doll once though #shades fics

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ideasihadbutdontlike · 2 years

Text

Nothing I wouldn’t Do

Bucky Barnes

“Gross”

Bucky grunted in agreement.

The two of you were at a local restaurant watching a couple feed each other desert. Complete with giggles and smiles bigger than their faces. The woman shrieked slightly as some of the chocolate drips down her dress.

You and Bucky look away quickly, trying your best to hide your laughter.

“Don’t ever do that to me. I swear I’ll shoot you,” you said.

Bucky laughed. “I have a metal arm,” he pointed. “You’d miss,” he sassed.

“mmm, I don’t think so,” you sassed.

“Alright,” he laughed, “so what if you’re sick, and just staying awake takes up all your energy? What about then?” His head was tilted slightly to the side, eyebrows raised in playful accusation.

You shook your head at him, failing to hide your smile. “I might just have to starve,” you said. You knew though, that Bucky despite his hard exterior would always do whatever he needed to help you.

He shook his head, a hint of a smile on his lips, “yeah, ok.”

He knew it too. He would go against your every wish if it meant he could save you. It was selfish, and sometimes he felt that it was too much, but then he looked at you, and he saw the gleam in your eye as you watched that couple for the corner of your eye. He knew there was absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

Bucky sighed dramatically, twirling his fork like it was one of his knives. You bit your tongue, watching him dig into the pasta in front of him.

“You know I’m gonna have to it now, right?” He squinted at you, glaring playfully.

“Barnes,” you smirked, “I’d like to see you try.”

------------

Ahh i needed to get back into writing and I havent done anything for Bucky in a hot minute.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #the winter soilder #james barnes x reader #bucky barnes x gender neutral reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #marvel x reader #marvel

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littlelioncub43 · 9 months

Note

What about Justin with an older reader (he’s like 19 and she 31), and he just started college. He’s obsessed with her and a full on sub with mommy kink. They live together near his college, which Justin likes because he doesn’t need to live without reader in a dorm room. On school nights though he needs to sleep alone because he needs to learn how to be a “big boy”.

One night you here a knock on your door and when the door opens you see Justin standing there with tears. He just says “I threw up” because of stress etc.. Obviously then reader takes care of her baby boy😌

Im going to be 10000000% honest, I did not see that ending coming 😹 I love it even more than a smutty ending

"Honey, what's the matter?" You ask softly, sleep making your voice raspier than normal. You could tell immediately that something was wrong, Justin's shoulders were slumped forward and his hands held his belly.

"I threw up." Is all he says in a small, tired voice. You immediately open your arms for him to come to you, which he does.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you whisper softly in case he wasn't feeling good still. "Do you still feel sick?"

You get a soft shrug and then a shake of his head as your answer. You guide him to sit on the edge of the bed with you, your arms carefully wrapping around him protectively. The moment you spoke to him he was feeling better, but the confusion and discomfort and stress still lingered within him.

"Was it something you ate?" You ask softly and let him lean into you while you try to figure out what's made your sweet boy so sick.

"No," he shook his head again, sniffling softly, your warmth quickly washing away the unease he felt. You hum and let his head rest on your shoulder.

"Was it too hot in your room? I can turn up the A/C if you want me to," you whisper but once again get a soft 'no' as your answer. "Just stressed out, baby?"

"Yeah," he hums, his tiredness coming back once again.

"Aw," you coo and press a kiss to his head. "Do you wanna brush your teeth and wash your face a little, then you can sleep in here with me. That sound nice?"

"Yeah," he says more excitedly. He needs the closeness and you can tell, you don't have the heart to send him back to bed alone. You send him to your bathroom with his toothbrush and a washcloth while you check his room for the mess. Thankfully, he had flushed and cleaned the toilet before waking you.

When you return to your bedroom, Justin is just coming out of the bathroom, his face clean of his tears and tiredness evident in his eyes. You smile, just as tired as he is, and guide him into his side of the bed. The moment you're under the covers with him, he's on you like a barnacle. But you really don't mind. Sighing contently, you rub his back in slow circles while he tucks himself away in the crook of your neck.

"I love you," Justin whispers just before sleep takes him.

"I love you too," you whisper back and let your eyes drift shut.

Comments and reblogs are always welcome! 💖

Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

I no longer have a taglist, if you wish to stay up-to-date on when I post, follow @littlelioncub-library

#romantic murderer monday #murderer monday drabble fest #murderer mondays #murderer monday #justin capshaw x reader #justin capshaw x fem!reader #justin capshaw has my heart #justin capshaw #justin capshaw x female reader #justin capshaw x you #justin capshaw x gn!reader #justin capshaw x gender neutral reader #sebastian stan characters #little lion literature

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bi-disaster-yn · 2 years

Text

Free

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x gn!Reader

Summary: Bucky’s recovery isn’t easy but one day he is reminded that he is free. Based on Free by Florence + The Machine.

A/N: For the most part, I try to write Bucky as living his best life with Reader but idk ever since I have heard this song, this is all I can think of. Great song, highly recommend. Also wanted to write realistically about Bucky’s mental health rather than ‘oh well he has Reader now - depression cured!’ so I hope I did that justice!

Tag-List: @kpopgirlbtssvt

Sometimes I wonder if I should be medicated

If I would feel better just slightly sedated

Bucky tied his shoelaces in the dark. It was 5am and the sky was still a pitch black void. He moved as quietly as he could, trying his best not to wake you up.

His nightmare had woken him up this early. Thankfully, he didn’t scream this time or else you’d have woken up and insisted on going on this run with him.

Bucky went running every morning to try and tire himself out and get rid of the thoughts that plagued his mind. Being the supportive partner you were, you would get up with him most days and join him. However, the serum allowed him to run continuously for hours, making it hard for him to exhaust himself. You always tried to keep up but once you’d pushed yourself to your limit, you’d both go to a nearby track and you would sit to watch him run himself quite literally into the ground. Some days his feet would bleed and he would stop, others you had to put your foot down and stop him.

It was taking its toll on both of you. Bucky could see how tired all of this running made you and just wanted you to get some sleep. Despite his best efforts, the running was having its desired effect on you rather than him. He wanted you to at least reap the benefits.

Sometimes, he just wanted to be sedated so that he could get a proper rest. He often pondered if the nightmares would still get to him if he was tranquillised. But then he’d be stuck with them without being able to wake up. He couldn’t give that kind of power to another person again.

He rubbed his tired eyes as he got up from the bed, pressed a kiss to your temple and left to start his run.

A feeling comes so fast and I cannot control it

I'm on fire, but I'm trying not to show it

The brisk air sent a chill down his spine as he started with a light jog, playing music in the headphones you’d bought him to drown the thoughts out.

Bucky was struggling with his mental health and recovery. Depression, anxiety, PTSD; all of these things that had been induced by his time at Hydra continued to consume his everyday life. He was trying his best to understand this new vocabulary that was not available in the 40s and what this actually meant for him. He was just grateful that he hadn’t been carted off in a straitjacket, locked in a padded room and had the key thrown away.

Still, Bucky hated feeling helpless. These conditions were always there, aggressively eating away at him in the background. But sometimes they would attack him by surprise and bring him down to the lowest depths of the abyss that was his mind.

He hated the fact you had to take care of him. He wanted to be stronger for you and resented the fact that you had seen him be so weak. It was another reason he was silently glad you hadn’t come on this run with him. The man was erratic and drove his feet painfully into the ground with each step.

All you wanted to do was help him recover and you were determined to do anything to help him. Even if he didn’t want you to.

Bucky hated his therapist with a passion. The days leading up to his sessions each week saw him get more irritable and restless until he eventually had a panic attack. He let out an audible groan as he remembered the time you’d found him on the bathroom floor, gripping at his hair and rocking back and forth. He had begged you to not make him go.

When you had talked him through the panic and got him breathing regularly again, he confessed why Dr Raynor had been extremely unhelpful. The hurt look on your face was borne into his mind as he’d told you about the time she responded with “bullshit” when he had confessed that all he wanted was peace.

Bucky had sat on the couch feeling helpless as you had paced on the phone to a lawyer about what they could do to get him another court mandated therapist. He’d played with his fingers, feeling like a burden and wishing he had just been that little bit stronger to keep that information to himself.

He shook his head violently on the run, closing his eyes momentarily in a desperate attempt to banish the memory of him being so powerless. And you having to save him, again.

It picks me up, puts me down

Picks me up, puts me down

A hundred times a day

This routine of obsessive running for hours was the only thing that came close to being able to suppress the memories for a while. Often, you’d both be sitting in silence but his thoughts would get too loud that he wouldn’t be able to stand it. Running was almost like he was in training to fight Hydra off if they ever came back for him. If he could get through a run with the memories and thoughts at least dulled and muffled, then he had beaten them that day.

His recovery saw these waves of gloom wash over him in amongst times where he thought he might be doing okay. Some days, Bucky would seem reformed. He’d crack sarcastic jokes or he would offer to take you out for lunch so you could both spend time with Yori. On his good days, Bucky could be very flirty and almost cheeky. The same glint appeared in his eyes that were in the few pictures you’d seen of him in the 40s. He’d kiss the back of your hand and up your arm to your shoulder, pulling you in for plenty of hugs and soft kisses. He’d remind you how much he loved you repeatedly since sometimes he didn’t have the energy to say it when he felt down. When you blushed, he’d give you a gorgeous toothy grin and for a moment, he’d look really happy.

These days were always short-lived and it wasn’t long until the inevitable darkness anchored in his brain, weighing him down once more. Bucky would put his face in his hands and cry, begging his mind to just let him have his good day for just a little while longer. It was a cruel cycle to have good days and then be dragged back underwater so suddenly. It was like being waterboarded; the good days being a momentary relief where he would gasp for air only to be inevitably filled with pain once more. The memories of good days left a sour taste in his mouth as he resented the fact it couldn’t be like that everyday.

I'm always running from something

I push it back, but it keeps on coming

Bucky grunted and grimaced at the memories and thoughts replaying in his head. He wanted to drag them all out through his ear and leave them on the ground so he could run away from them.

With every step, every move, every breath, he’d hoped he was another bit closer to being rid of the ugly thoughts trapped in his brain. If he could just focus on the run, the adrenaline and his heart thumping in his chest, he’d find his way back to being human again. He wasn’t going to be Hydra’s asset anymore; he’d be James Bucky Barnes.

It was the definition of insanity; Bucky obsessively running to try and solve the problems in his head. Each day he expected a different result, and each day he would be disappointed.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he felt a dull ache in his chest as he tried to drive away the lingering demons. Instead, they emerged from the ground and grabbed greedily at his ankles, trying to bring him down with them. Bucky whimpered, shaking his head and increased his pace in a desperate and pointless attempt to drown them out.

It picks me up, puts me down

It chews me up, spits me out

The self doubt crept up on him brutally and strangled him. A deep panic set in as thought that you might have woken up after he’d gone and taken your chance to leave him.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone he’d loved abandoned him. Steve had risked his life and his friends’ lives for Bucky. He’d spent years trying to get his friend back.

Bucky let out a hungry gasp for air as he continued to press on with the run. Tears leaked in the corners of his eyes remembering Steve telling him “don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

The unforgiving voice in his head reminded him that when Steve had went back to be with Peggy, he’d done so in the knowledge that Bucky was somewhere being tortured and used mercilessly by Hydra. It made him question if the friendship and affection was real that Steve could just abandon Bucky in a world he didn’t know and not do anything to prevent the horror that he had went through.

If Steve was capable of leaving, you could be too.

You were so kind and so patient. When he had a panic attack, you were soft and calm in the way you would coax him out of it even if it took a very long time. It didn’t matter to you, he was the love of your life and if all he needed was time and patience, you had that in abundance to give to him. You would often cradle him in bed; spooning him and peppering soothing kisses on his back and shoulders, or lying on your back with his head on your chest and playing with his hair. When you noticed him get increasingly anxious and fidgety in public places, you would intertwine your fingers with his and give his hand a squeeze. He was grateful for you rubbing your thumb over his knuckles and giving him something to focus on.

Bucky pondered how long it would take for you to have had enough of this caregiving role and leave him.

But I hear music

I feel the beat

And for a moment

When I'm dancing, I am free

After a couple of hours, Bucky decided that he wasn’t focused enough and the run wasn’t fulfilling its intended purpose. He hadn’t beaten Hydra that day. With slumped shoulders and a heavy heart, he stumbled back to your apartment. He was half terrified that you really had taken the chance to leave him while he was gone. God knows, he’d basically trained you to run over the past few months; you could run away easily.

Bucky was pleasantly surprised when he returned home to see you in the kitchen, illuminated by the morning sun that streamed through the window. It made you look angelic.

You were dancing around in one of Bucky’s t-shirts and your underwear, making some breakfast. You happily sang along to the song that was blaring from the speaker. Mrs King from downstairs would probably come up at any minute and demand you turn it down. Nonetheless, you were enjoying the moment while it lasted.

Bucky smiled at the sight of the love of his life so carefree and relaxed. He leaned off the doorframe and admired your questionable dance moves, falling even more in love. The anxiety inducing thoughts from his run started to dull and his heartbeat regulated. A smile even found its way on to his face as he appreciated the domestic bliss of the moment.

You got a fright when you turned round to see him, he’d been so quiet. You chuckled when you realised it was Bucky and put your hand on your chest, still tapping your toes and wiggling your hips.

“Hey, handsome, did you have a good run?” You asked, not bothering to question him on why he didn’t wake you to come with him. Sometimes Bucky needed to do things on his own and that was okay.

Bucky ignored the question, he didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, he walked towards you and took your hands in his, starting to sway you with him.

“Here, sweetheart.” He smiled. “Let me show you how we did it in the 40s.”

He moved your hand to rest on his shoulder and put his vibranium hand on your waist, pulling you in to his chest. He rolled his hips in perfect motion, dancing around your kitchen with you. You giggled watching him relax and concentrating on leading the dance.

“Hope you’re gonna have me back home for 9pm, James Barnes. You know how strict my dad is.” You joked and he let out a genuine hearty laugh.

“You know me, perfect gentleman.” He replied as he gave you a twirl and then pulled you back into the dance again. “And it’s Bucky to you.”

Is this how it's always been?

To exist in the face of suffering and death

And somehow still keep singing

For the first time in a very long time, Bucky felt effulgent as he continued to dance with you, showing you even more of his moves. His heart skipped a beat as he observed your clearly impressed expression.

“Who knew my man was such a good dancer?” You beamed at him as he pulled you to his chest after extending your arm out.

His brilliant white teeth shone as the corners of his lips stretched into a wide and contented smile. The simple understated pleasure of dancing with you in the kitchen on a Saturday morning forced the last of his excruciating thought from the run out of his mind.

It made him wonder if this is the kind of joy that others get to feel everyday. Did everyone else just get this feeling and take it for granted? This moment with his favourite person was already etching itself into the walls of his core memories and attempting to overwrite some of the distressful ones still lurking there.

The positive emotions worked together in tandem, bringing his tense body into a more relaxed posture. His muscles ached, having been held in a stealthy poise for so long and ready to fight. It was a good ache, it felt new.

You had used his arm to give yourself a twirl, smiling widely at him. Bucky took a deep inhale of breath, looking at you with a balance of complete adoration and disbelief that you were actually his.

But there's nothing else that I know how to do

But to open up my arms and give it all to you

Bucky’s lip quivered as he pulled you in to his chest and held you tightly, scared that if he let you go that you’d disappear. He was trembling but could still hold you in a rigid grip. Something about this moment awakened a sense of overwhelming relief in him. All of those years of suffering, all of the heartache and fighting that followed, Bucky had never allowed himself to relax. He’d been operating in the ultimate defence mode. But there was a sense of serene calm in dancing with you that morning, none of you were in a rush, no one was calling on him for something, no one was interrupting. He could only express his appreciation for the moment by holding on to you tightly and feeling your heartbeat thumping against his body rhythmically.

“I’m free.” Was all he kept saying. He mumbled it into the side of your head repeatedly, leaving kisses there in between each word. Despite Ayo saying those exact words to him all those years ago in Wakanda and the failed attempts of others to use the Winter Soldier words on him, he’d never truly believed it until now. He’d never said the words out loud himself. Bucky was free.

“Need me to hold on?” You asked, the embrace taking you a little by surprise but you were happy to oblige. Anything to comfort your super soldier.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, baby.”

You squeezed him so tight you hoped it would transfer some of your love for him into his body and he’d start to feel it for himself. No matter how much you gave him, the remainder would always be enough. Your love for Bucky was endlessly being topped up and renewed. It was time he felt that for himself.

Bucky moved your face to press his forehead against yours. “I’m free.” He repeated.

“You’re free.” You confirmed, pressing a light kiss to his lips. Bucky shuddered, feeling the acceptance finally take purchase in his body. Hydra couldn’t get to him now. Especially, when he was in the arms of his love. He wasn’t theirs anymore.

Bucky knew the euphoria of this moment wouldn’t last forever and that he would still have his down days. But he had something that was worth fighting the darkness for. Freedom.

And for a moment, when I'm dancing

I am free, I am free

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 years

Note

consider 🤭🤭🤭 choking seb and calling him a good boy 😳

I-

I am considering it.

And I think we have two options for this delicious idea. Are you on top of Sebastian, calling him a good boy and choking him? Or are you underneath him, calling him a good boy and choking him-? Let's explore 😏

Both ideas here have bottom-yet-dom!gender-neutral!reader because I am feeling™️ subby and useless toppy Sebastian Stan today

On top:

You're sitting on top of Sebastian, thighs spread around his bare waist, his cock throbbing inside of you. You're not moving though. Not right now. Earlier you were moving... moving- riding, actually.

Riding him not with the purpose of getting him off, but riding Seb to help yourself along- making your own toes curl, your own head fall back between your shoulders, and stretch you out. His hot, hard cock filling you full. Hitting all those places inside you that feel so good. Pleasure throbbing through you, all achy and hot. And that heavy, full feeling of him in combination with a hand on yourself...

Oh, God.

You've gone a few fucking rounds yourself. Pleasure frying your brain the longer you go. More and more intense. For you...

Although-

You've not let Sebastain cum.

You haven't let Seb cum not even after a few long hours of teasing and allowing yourself to cum again and again and again. Until you arrived where you sit now- on top but with your legs quivering, muscles used too well, and your body impossibly sensitive. Even just the slightest brush against you sends feverish shivers skittering down your spine, pooling heavily in your gut.

Sebastian is in much the same position as you are.

Sensitive.

He's just sensitive for the opposite reason.

Sensitive because he hasn't been allowed to orgasm so now he's on razor's edge- sweaty and shaking as he stares up at you with glassy, desperate, and wide eyes. Strung the fuck out.

He looks at you like there is nothing else. All his focus put to whatever you want from him, he wants to be good for you. He wants to please you, please. Can he? Please! But he has pleased you and he's being thriving with it. Glowing and blushing and squirming under you as you ride him, bouncing in his lap and collapsing over the finish again and again, gasping his name, telling him how good he is for you, telling him he feels so good, all of it... filthy praise and moans falling from your lips, yet, now he's gotten to the breaking point... he's tongue-tied while wanting nothing more than to beg.

He wants to beg to be allowed to cum! He wants your permission. He needs your permission.

Please.

You can see it in his eyes. He's desperate. He swallows thickly, stifling another whimper. Head lolled back on the messy sheets, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. His hands curl into tighter fists in the restraints tying his hands to the headboard where you put them when this began. Leaving him helpless. Exposed to your every whim...

And your whim includes, grinding hard against him, shoving his cock as deep into you as possible and-

Fitting your hand around his throat, watching his watering eyes shut extra tight with hungry eyes. It's as if he's savoring it. Loving the way his head spins, oxygen lacking. You feel his cock twitch inside you as you start to make clumsy little circles on his dick, too tired to bounce but moving enough for it to feel good. Anything feels good when you're so overestimated and he's been edged for so long.

Those pretty eyes fly open the second you ask, voice rough, "who's my good boy?"

The feeling of his throat contracting under your hand explodes another ball of heat inside you, swallowing needily. Then, Seb struggles to get out, "m-me." At first he can't. He opens his mouth. He shuts it. He opens his mouth. Speechless. His face turns redder and it's not from the choking. Embarrassment. He doesnt want to accept the praise even though it lights everything up inside him. Devastating him. You let up for a moment, letting him breath but raising an eyebrow as he stares into your eyes, gasping for air.

You re-tighten your grip. His sound cuts out, falling back into oxygen deprivation beautifully.

You clear your throat, "who's my good boy?"

"M-me," he finally pushes out, struggling still even as he says it. His voice hoarse and shy.

You revel in it- in watching him struggle. Struggle to breath. Struggle to speak. Struggle to admit the praise to even himself, let alone to you. It makes the worst best part of you grin like a predator, ready to sink your teeth into him. He's so pretty. You could eat him up... and you just might.

You keep your hand tight on his vulnerable throat for juuust long enough, he struggles depsite how much he craves it. How much he needs it. Then-

"Yeahhh," you finally let go of him, letting him breathe again, breathing in big, heaving gasps, "you're a good boy," you pet a line down his throat the center of his chest, stopping just above his naval.

He moans sharply. Violently. Twitching under your fingers.

"Such a good boy for me."

His cock throbs inside of you.

The incredible fucking feeling has you shutting your eyes, processing the lust raging through you, and it gives you just enough strength to stop circling your hips and start bouncing again in his lap instead. For the first second Seb bites his swollen, glistening lower lip. He tugs hard at the handcuffs. Then he gives in. He cries out high and loud.

He sobs, "pl-please! Please! Please! Ah! Wanna, unngh, wanna cum! Please-!"

"Do it," you groan, "good boy, c'mon, baby, cum for me. I want you to. Wanna feel it inside me, c'mon," you rasp, collaring his throat with your hand again.

Underneath:

Sebastian's weight is pinning you to your bed, his dick working in and out of you exquisitely. Your bodies pressed together with Sebastian's forearms bracing his weight by your head and shoulders. He's not fucking into you fast at all right now, he's fucking in hard and deep though. Tight and deep and hard in a way that keeps fucking sounds out of you, ah, ah, ahs that undercut whatever order to have for him. Punched out of your lungs. The little noises soften those orders whether they be to grab my leg and put it over your shoulder, go faster, go slower, stop for a second, youre close and I don't want you to cum yet, etc. Not that it matters if your orders don't sound concrete and steady because Sebastian follows them anyway. The perfect little submissive. Mmm-hmm.

Either way, everytime you open your mouth to talk, those sounds make their way out of you. Moans and gasps. His dick game is just so fucking good. And everytime you open your mouth to tell him something, he obeys.

He obeys beautifully.

Just thinking about his submissive obedience and witnessing some of it now leaves you clenching down on his dick like you'll die if he slips out. And... you might. You might die if this heat is taken from you. It's so tight and heavy in your core. Orgasm building and building.

Sebastian whines in response to feeling you tighten around him, burying his blushing face in your neck and shoulder as he keeps thrusting but... it gets unsteady. In and out and- stutter. In. In. Out a little. In. He keeps whining, babbling out something that sounds like "you'resowetandsotightohgod-"

Pleasure sparks in your gut and low in your spine, coiling tight. He's so desperate; so fucking hot but also so cute. So submissive and fucking biteable. It's incredible- incredibly arousing.

But you can't have him going soft on you. As much as you love having him melt on top of you like this, going stupid and boneless, whining and whimpering- useless with how much he enjoys being inside of you, you really, really have been in the mood for a good, hard fucking recently. So...

You sink your fingers into all that pretty, thick hair - he's growing it out again - and pull his head up to say, face-to-face with both of you out of breath, "c'mon, baby, ffuck me like you m-mean it, be, ah, good."

Sebastian whines needily. Nodding clumsily- frantically. He wants to be good. Always.

"Be good," you moan it again, unable to resist brushing his longer hair out of his gorgeous, pleasure-slackened face. Then, you tug on his hair to make him follow your hand. Arching his neck, head back.

And how are you supposed to resist an invitation like that? Nevermind the fact that you initiated the invitation. You can't.

So, you quickly untangle your fingers from his hair to wrap them instead around his throat.

You squeeze.

Sebastian moans hoarsely, his hips jerking forward hard. Baby always has loved being choked.

"Fuck!" You moan, squeezing harder to get him to do it again. His dick hitting you just right, pleasure lighting up you from the inside out. Boiling over.

Again.

Again he thrusts hard into you.

"G-good, you're so, oh, God, so good, Seb."

And that's when you see it. It's fucking gorgeous-

The way Sebastian melts that last impossible little bit. Melting entirely. All he wants is to be told he's good. All he wants is your hand decorating his throat, owning everything about him, including whether or not he gets to breathe. All he wants is to cum inside you. It's all he wants. And all of him is yours. All of him is yours to order-

"Do it, yes! Yes! Good boy, ohgod, c'mon, baby, do it, cum for me, sub. Ah-!"

gif credit @/flysafepapi

#asks #fandomfluffandfuck #sebastian stan #sub seb #subastian #sub sebastian #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian x reader #male reader #female reader #sebastian stan x you

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lives-in-midgard · 4 months

Text

New Year's Confession

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: At the Avengers New Year's party you and Bucky sneak away to watch the firework together.

Word Count: 692

A/N: Happy New Year to everyone! 🎉💗Surprise here is a short New Year's fic that I wrote, I hope you enjoy!

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

You were currently at the Avengers New Year’s party. You enjoyed talking, laughing, singing and dancing with the others. You had fun, but after a while you found yourself standing alone in the corner. Watching others having fun and enjoying their time. You started searching the crowd for someone special. Someone with brown hair, a beautiful smile, the most beautiful eyes and a metal arm.

Exactly who you're looking for is James Bucky Barnes.

When you saw him standing next to Steve and Sam, you started to smile softly. They were talking and laughing about something. Suddenly Bucky looked directly at you and smiled at you. You saw Bucky quickly say something to Steve and Sam and then move through the crowd towards you. After a few minutes he finally made it to you and smiled at you.

"Hey, doll."

"Hey, Bucky."

"Do you want to go outside and enjoy the fireworks?" Bucky asked and you nodded. You walked through the large group of people with Bucky in front of you. He turned around to see if you were still behind him and reached for your hand to make sure he didn’t lose you. You blushed but took his hand and walked past the other Avengers and Agents.

After leaving the living room, you went to the roof of the compound. Bucky opened the door for you and held it open for you so you could go out first.

"Thanks Bucky."

"You're welcome, doll."

You were still holding hands when you found a spot on the side of the roof where you could best see the fireworks from a distance. You stood there in silence for a while, holding hands. After a few minutes, you let go of his hand and continued watching the fireworks until you both saw a firework that looked like a heart. You smiled softly and looked over at Bucky, who was also smiling.

"Doll, there is something I want to tell you before this year ends." Bucky confirmed and you quickly checked the time on your phone.

"Go for it, Buck. You still have ten minutes left." You said with a giggle.

"Oh, doll please don't put pressure on me."

"It's okay, Buck, you can still tell me next year." You said and Bucky chuckled at your New Year’s joke.

"No, I want to tell you now." He insisted, reaching for your hand. Bucky took a deep breath and then started talking.

"Y/N, you are such an important person to me. I love spending time with you, talking to you or sometimes just sitting there in silence. I like you so much. No, I don’t just like you, I love you." Bucky confessed and you started to smile.

"Oh, Bucky, I can't believe this... Because I... I love you too." You said with a smile. Bucky cupped your cheek with his metal hand and with his other hand he placed a strand of hair behind your ear. You smiled at each other and then came closer. His lips touched yours gently and when the kiss became more passionate, the fireworks began on the compound and the Avengers began to cheer. You and Bucky broke the kiss and chuckled.

"That was a great way to end the year and start a new year." Bucky said and you reached for his metal hand.

"I can't wait to see what this year brings for us." You said and Bucky smiled back at you.

"Me too." Suddenly you could hear the Avengers cheering and having fun again. You laughed and then you said.

"How about we go back downstairs?"

"Can we stay a few more minutes?" Bucky asked.

"Of course we can." You said and Bucky put his arm around your shoulder and gently pulled you closer to him. With a smile, you put your arm around him and kissed his cheek. You watched the fireworks for a few more minutes until you decided to go back to the others, but you stayed by Bucky's side the whole night. You had a great time and enjoyed spending New Year’s Eve with Bucky and the others by your side.

Taglist:

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marchtothefuckingsea · 2 years

Text

Cold - Bucky Barnes

basically Hypothermia but different I just got another idea for it okay

My Masterlist.

hurt/comfort, x gender neutral reader

Word count: 1.3k Warnings: symptoms of hypothermia(?), canon violence (if any). Not proofread.

Prompted by: “ I just asked if you were cold, I didn't ask for your whole life story.” (I can’t for the life of me remember where I got this prompt, sorry!)

"How much further is the safehouse?" I asked through chattering teeth.

"Two miles."

"Two miles? Through this?"

"Stop whining." Bucky growled, stalking off through the mounds of snow.

"We wouldn't be in this situation if you didn't have to be all big macho man and alert the entire fucking building of our presence." I accused him, plodding through the snow behind him.

"Blame it on me, why don't you."

"Yeah, I am blaming it on you. If you had just laid low like I fucking said to-"

"And have to wait god knows how long for them to leave so we could get out of there?" He argued, stopping and turning back to glare at me.

"I was supposed to be in charge of the stealth here, not you." I stopped, shivering.

"And look how well that went." He shot back.

"It would have went just fine if you didn't fuck it up." I muttered, pulling my mask back up over my face to hide the chattering of my teeth and trudging past him. I could feel his glare at my back as I continued in the direction of the safehouse. I tucked my gloved hands under my arms, another shiver running through me. I heard the crunching of snow beneath Bucky's feet as he followed behind me.

"Hey." He called sharply. I ignored him. "Hey!"

"What?" I hissed, glaring at him.

"Wrong way, dumbass." He jerked his head in the opposite direction. I blinked, following him without complaint. I was too cold to come up with a sharp retort.

It wasn't long before I began to fall behind, struggling to lift my stiff feet through the layers of snow. Bucky only glanced back once, huffing in annoyance and continuing at his own pace. The wind began to pick up, and he finally slowed before I lost sight of him. The snow whipped across the slivers of my exposed skin, the small ice crystals biting into my numb skin painfully. I was shivering violently by now, my teeth chattering uncontrollably as I hugged my arms tighter around myself.

"Cold?" Bucky asked me sarcastically.

"I-I'm not a f-fuckin ssuper soldier like you." I muttered with as much hostility as I could manage, my words slurring together. "'course I 'm."

"Calm down. I just asked if you're cold, I didn't ask for your whole life story."

"Fuck you." I mumbled, stopping to check the feeling I had in my limbs. The center of my body felt warm enough, but it was slightly concerning that I couldn't feel my limbs. I briefly thought about mentioning this fact to him–since he was the winter soldier and all-but ultimately decided against it.

I fell far behind him once again, almost losing sight of him a couple of times. It became increasingly difficult for me to simply put one foot in front of the other. Realizing I had lost sight of Bucky again, I called out to him, but I barely managed to rasp out his name.

"Buck-" I attempted to call him again, managing to almost shout it this time, before breaking off in a fit of coughs. Icy daggers stabbed into my lungs with every breath. I could feel the sharpness of the sensation, but not the cold. I felt, quite literally, warm and fuzzy inside.

I suddenly stumbled, falling forward into the snow. I turned onto my side with a groan. I struggled several times to free myself from the mound of snow, each attempt draining more of my energy. I flopped back onto the cold, curling onto my side with a sigh. Unable to find the energy to struggle to my feet, I tucked my chin to my chest and wrapped my numb arms around myself in a comforting gesture of defeat. With another small sigh, my eyes fluttered shut. Something told me to keep my eyes open. No, someone.

"Wake up." Bucky's voice broke through the haziness of my thoughts as he grabbed my shoulders and shook me. I groaned in protest.

"Wake up." He repeated, a note of urgency creeping into his voice. It made me open my eyes, the tone sounding foreign to him. When I did, his face was inches from mine, and his icy eyes were sharp with concern. I struggled to push myself up onto my elbows, but only succeeded in digging myself deeper into the mound of snow. Bucky was quick to help me sit up, leaning my back against a tree. He tugged one of his gloves off, and pressed his fingers firmly to my neck as my head slumped to the side, frowning and pressing harder against my pulse point when he couldn't feel anything.

He took his jacket off and wrapped it around my shoulders, despite my mumbled protests. Quickly slipping his glove back on and, not giving me a chance to protest, he slipped his arms underneath me. My eyes shot open in alarm and I struggled against him briefly.

"We're almost there, sweetheart." He reassured me, his voice panicky. His whole demeanor towards me had flipped like a light switch.

I didn't have the energy to complain, and so I found myself relaxing against him. His body radiated much more heat than a normal person, even through his winter clothes. I felt the rumbling of his voice through his chest as I drifted off, unable to make out what he was saying so urgently.

I stretched out my stiff limbs, before tucking them back against my torso. I shivered, still freezing despite the heat I felt radiating from behind, and in front of me. I pressed myself closer to the warmth behind me with a small sigh. The arm around my waist tightened around me protectively.

Suddenly realizing the situation, I bolted up from the pile of blankets, whipping around to see a half-asleep and half-naked Bucky. I wasn't half-naked, but my top half was covered by his shirt. Despite the heat of the fire across the room, I still shivered as my skin was exposed to the cooler air of the room.

"What happened?" I asked, intending for my voice to come out more sharp than it did. Instead, I was cut off by a cough, my throat sore and dry. Bucky immediately reached for a glass of water on the nightstand. It was warm when I took it into my hand. I took it without complaint, uttering a quiet, "Thank you," once I had downed half of the glass.

He just watched me for a moment, with a strange look on his face that I couldn’t quite pinpoint. "What?" I asked him, suddenly defensive at the way he seemed to be analyzing, no, judging me.

"Nothing." He responded, his eyes sweeping over my form. "How do you feel?"

"I don't know. Bad, I guess." I answered, unsure.

I shivered again involuntarily, folding into myself. He tentatively reached for me, giving me the chance to move away or refuse. I didn't. I leaned into his touch gratefully as he pulled me back onto the bed, tucking me into his side. I sighed contentedly.

"What did I do?" I asked him tiredly. It was a genuine question; right now, in this moment, I couldn't remember why we had always bickered and argued.

"You almost died." He answered roughly.

"No, that's not what I meant." I heard him sigh– and felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest – wrapping his arm around me.

He hummed in thought before answering. "I've always cared." He admitted quietly, hesitantly tucking his chin into the crook of my neck. The gesture felt like a blanket of safety and comfort.

"Just didn't want to admit it." He mumbled. "Now sleep."

I laid there quietly, the slow, even sound of his breathing lulling me to sleep in his arms.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #x gender neutral reader #bucky barnes angst #angst #hurt/comfort

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alltheficsiwant · 2 years

Text

Gummy Bears

Gummy Bears | A 🦊Foxy and 🐺Wolfy One Shot

Warnings: Nothing. This is just pure fluff.

Rated: For Everyone

Summary: Bucky isn’t really a big fan of your dietary consumption. To be honest, he thought, despite the nerdy exterior, you would be conscious about those things. You just scream it but then he gets to know you and has the privilege to spend a whole day with you. Bucky was proven otherwise as he watched you consume copious amounts of chips, red bulls, and your self-proclaimed favorite, gummy bears. So when you run out of it, Bucky, despite the protest of his stomach and six-pack abs, would do anything to get you your precious Gummy Bears.

A/N: This is my first time posting a story. This is a Mafia!Bucky x Reader. The reader is presumably female but I tried my best for a gender-neutral approach. Please do not repost to other sites! Reblogs and comments are much appreciated.

P.S. A few changes has been made :) But not much only adding the nicknames that has been declared to a one shot related to this universe. Check out: When Foxy meets Wolfie. - J💕

Bucky doesn’t know anymore. It was supposed to be simple, an easy job to do. Search for it and get as much as he can. Apparently, it was bad timing to find it at this time of the year. He couldn't help but grunt as he glared at the near empty shelf. Running a hand through his now growing hair.

He huffed and looked at his right to see Steve intently looking on one of the shelves. His big arms swarming through it trying to find the one thing that Bucky wanted to have right now.

“Had any luck?” Bucky asked and Steve grunted a no. Bucky almost, almost, whined out loud with the ridiculousness of the situation he is in but instead he growled. Scaring the mother and her child who is reaching towards the shelf beside him. For God’s sake, why is all of it no where to be fucking found?

“Stop scaring the damn patrons Buck,” Sam’s amused voice came in, making him sharply look to his left as he saw Sam walking back to him, empty handed.

“I don’t care. I need to find it,” Bucky grunted and side stepped the petrified mother and son to walk towards Sam. His eyes glaring in frustration and anger. Sam, used to the looks and not deterred by it just stood there with an amused smirk.

“It’s Halloween, what do you expect? It's either that or the chocolates,” Sam supplied trying to appease Bucky.

“But the chocolates are still very much in stock while the one we are trying to find is nowhere to be found,” Steve unhelpfully supplied. Not really attuned to Bucky’s anger despite witnessing it for the good 28 years of being friends. Sam hissed at Steve who finally looked up from his rummaging to see Bucky fuming.

“Great comment Steven,” Sam said as he turned to Bucky who clutched his hair now in frustration.

“Fuck, this is the tenth fucking store,” Bucky mumbled and Sam was about to reach out to stop Bucky on making himself bald. A familiar ring tone started to play in Bucky’s pocket as he pulled it out. Brendon Urie’s voice blasted through the speakers as he sang into the unknown. Bucky, oblivious to the shock of his two trusted men, immediately answered the phone.

“Did you find some, Wolfie?” A small voice spoke before Bucky could even talk. Bucky can’t help but sigh sadly as he closes his eyes and presses the pad of fingers over it.

“Hey Foxy, I haven’t found some yet. We are just going to the last–”

“It's okay,” Your voice cut him off. It got a bit lower now and fuck, you sound so fucking sad that it made Bucky clenched his jaw in frustration. Wishing he was there to comfort you.

“No baby, its not–”

“It’s my fault anyway,” you continue to mumble. He could hear some shuffling on the other side. His mind can’t help but conjure the image of you probably moving from your couch which was the last place you are at when he left towards the bed. Your eyes are downcast and a bit sad. Fuck, Bucky wants to go back to you at the same time wanted to get what you wanted. “I should have brought them before Halloween week. I thought it would have lasted until next week,”

“Come on Foxy, it’s not your fault. I’m going to find you one. I promise just wait—”

“No Bucky, it's okay. Just come back here please?” Bucky bit his lip at your request. “It's okay, I still have some Lays in here. I’ll be fine,” your voice loses that bit of sadness in exchange with the soft and sweet voice you coax Bucky with. A weakness of Bucky that he happily told you after the both of you slept together for the first time. “It’s just some stupid gummy bears and besides its childish,” You added.

Bucky huffed as he looked back at Steve and Sam. Steve is back at the shelf and haggling with some patrons if they see any more gummy bears in the store while Sam approaches an employee. “But baby, I promised you I will find one. It's not childish,”

He can hear you huff on the other side of the phone before talking. “But?” You trailed off extending the u’s in the word. Bucky can’t help but roll his eyes at that.

“But even though it's unhealthy and not really good for your body. You love those stuff and I told you when we got together that I would give you anything you love and need,”

Bucky heard you sigh affectionately. “That is such a cheesy thing to say Bucky Barnes your reputation as the big baddie is waning,”

Bucky chuckled. “What can I say? I like being cheesy with you,” He teased, making you giggle on the other side of the phone. “Though if you say that to anyone, there will be consequences,” he mused as he lowered his voice. Trying to implicate the things he would do to you. Things he plans to do to you all the damn time.

You giggled “But seriously, just come back here. It's just gummy bears.”

“But that’s your favorite–”

“I have a new favorite now and that is one big beefy mob boss named Bucky Barnes.” You told him and Bucky bit his lip trying not to scrunch his nose at the cheesiness of the line.

“Okay, I can see it now, that is just a cheesy thing to say,” Bucky can’t help but say and he smiled as he heard your laugh.

“Now you know how I feel but seriously. I want you back here now Wolfie,” You told him and Bucky sighed. Defeated, because he knew that is the one request above every request you can make that he can never say no to.

“Okay, but we will hit this last store—”

“FOUND IT!” Sam cut Bucky’s line as he turned to see Sam with a basket half full of Gummy Bears.

“Baby you heard–”

“Sam found one?!” You squealed and Bucky couldn't help but laugh at your reaction.

“I thought I’m your favorite one?” He teased you as he mouthed a thank you to Sam who dragged Steve towards the cashier to pay. Steve, who apparently, made a shopping trip of his own grabbed a couple of kit kats and cadbury eggs that undoubtedly wild end up in his and Sam’s pantry for a couple of weeks.

“Yeah, but Gummy Bears, Wolfie! Gummy Bears!” You exclaimed happily. “It actually helped me complete the prosthesis you are using now, Mister,” You added.

Bucky shook his head as he walked back out towards his bike to wait for Sam and Steve with the purchases. “I seriously got beaten down by mere Gummy Bears?”

You hummed and Bucky made a sound of being offended. You giggled but then you went quiet suddenly making Bucky straightened.

“Foxy? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, just had this feeling of being grateful,”

Bucky’s brow scrunched at the sudden turn of the conversation. “What for?”

“Nobody really goes to great lengths for me just to get me gummy bears,” you started as he heard you shuffling around again. “You really are different from what they tell about you Bucky Barnes,”

Bucky couldn't help but smile as he looked down at his feet. “You just realized it now, doll?” His Brooklyn accent peeked through as he cockily said it.

He heard you groan. “Now I just fed your ego, great.” You told him bitingly and Bucky can’t help but laugh. “Thank you Bucky, not just for the gummy bears but for everything.”

Bucky is now itching to get home to you as he just wants to smother you with kisses and maybe urge you to do something else with less clothing but instead he settled for a few words.

“Anything for you, doll. You know I’ll do everything and anything for you,”

“Ditto,” you replied and Bucky can’t help but chuckle. There was a moment of silence as Bucky’s mouth twitched. The two of you haven’t said those 3 words yet but you and Bucky always settled with the phrase. But now, the urge to tell you those 3 words came stronger but before he could speak out about it you spoke again.

“But Gummy Bears are still my favorite. So get back here Wolfie so I can thank you properly,” You shyly suggested and Bucky can’t help but smirk as he saw Sam and Steve finally coming out. He aggressively started to sign to Sam to hand him over the Gummy Bears.

“Oh Foxy, I’ll be there 5 minutes tops and when I come home I think I can make you reconsider me,”

#bucky barnes × reader #bucky barnes x gender neutral reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluff #mafia!bucky #Mafia!Sam #mafia!steve rogers #fanfiction #fanfic #sebastian stan fandom

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softevnstan · 1 year

Text

³.⍭ 𝐈𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 - PART II.

pairing. bucky barnes x gender netural!reader

a.n. you guys responded really well for part one so i wanted to work on part two. no beta, we die like men. i have no fully formed plan with this so i apologize if i got anyone's hopes up. see part one here (make sure you read that first, otherwise, parts of this won't make sense). i also hate using 'y/n', but i don't know how not to, so i heavily recommend the 'InteractiveFics' chrome extension - it'll automatically correct 'Y/N' to the name of your choosing (and can replace other terms)

w.c. 3.6k

tags. depression mention, suicide mention, ptsd mention, therapy, recovering!bucky barnes, patient x therapist (as a whole for the series), not 100% accurate therapy - based on my own perspective and experiences.

‘What am I doing here?’ Bucky's mind played like a broken record, brain scouring for any reason to excuse himself from this appointment altogether.

Was it too late to slip out of the room? Surely not - the secretary was one of the four people (including himself) that sat in the same gray room, and she didn't seem to be paying too much mind hunched over her desk in a seek-and-find book.

The waiting room was dark - lacking any real windows in the area given it was part of a larger building that housed the offices. Bucky had taken the stairs up to the second floor after stepping into the building and searched the stretched hall for your office number and silver nameplate on the walls. Upon finally finding it, Bucky couldn't help but see it as a blessing and a curse. No more wandering aimlessly with the inkling of tension that'd begun to grow with the anxiety of someone approaching him to potentially redirect him. But it also meant he was now another excuse short for skipping this referral appointment entirely.

When stepping in, the atmosphere wasn't near as comforting as he'd been hoping. The space was dark and dimly lit by the glow of orange lamps; chairs sat neatly along the wall with a coffee table, scattered with magazines that had been flipped through countlessly since they'd been there. There was a rounded desk to the left of entering the room where an older woman sat, glasses sitting on the end of her nose and the signs of aging prevalent in her graying hair. Along the back wall, there are several doors; Individual offices, Bucky's brain supplied.

There were shelves of books and an overwhelming amount of fake plants in the room. The closest window that Bucky could scour out immediately was a narrow, rectangular one. Lone by itself given the layout of the office building not allowing for it. Hardly any natural light seeped into the room. If the actual offices with the therapists were as gloomy as this, Bucky would have better luck abandoning all hope right then and excusing himself. Save him another uncomfortable experience in the mental health field.

Working with Raynor wasn't exactly what Bucky needed as a first experience in therapy. Before the 70 years that he'd spent under HYDRA's thumb, there were no resources like this at home. Mental Health hardly existed as a concept - no awareness of the rippling effects of war or aid for the soldiers that would return traumatized and self-loathing. Hell, men beat their wives back then like property. That was even without the PSTD and fragile masculinity slammed on top.

Not his father, thank a god that Bucky isn't sure he even believes in anymore.

Christina was rough around the edges. A former officer in the military, one would think she may be perfect for the job in regard to Bucky's emotional baggage and the weight he carries. She wasn't. That was something Bucky only began to learn months later with Sam's help; That while Dr. Raynor was not a bad woman, she was not what Bucky had needed to begin opening up to people. The clipped energy that filled a room when sharing a space with Christina made it near impossible to relax fully; When Bucky was being a little difficult on his bad days (yes, he can admit he's difficult), instead of approaching him with patience, Raynor would combat his comments with her own condescending ones. It felt more like a weekly brawl where he had something to prove rather than a safe space to begin the healing process.

It was like ripping open a healing wound, wondering why it wouldn't improve, and being confused when it worsens under brutal treatment.

Dr. Raynor was not what Bucky needed, simply put.

But the one that woman did right with all certainty was to at least aid in redirecting Bucky to someone that can help him produce better results.

That's what landed him there. In the waiting room of your office with an appointment at 3:15 p.m.

Your praise was sung of being someone who was more approachable and positive, albeit not naively so. When Bucky was peering at reviews and your background check - comforting his own paranoia - he'd seen nothing but kind things said. How patient you were. How compassionate; How you make your patients feel heard and understood. How you provide the tools to create a proper support system and show people how to live again. Bucky tries not to get his hopes up for things, but he was certainly beginning to spark hope when he was able to look more into your reviews. It made him want to try again rather than give up.

But sitting in that dim-lit office, he's not sure how confident he is in that statement anymore. Bucky's left leg bounces in an anxious fidget. His shoulders are tight, arms folded over his chest in a closed-off stance while he sits back in one of the empty chairs of the waiting room. To anyone else, Bucky probably looks angry at the world - it's just him hiding his nerves. Never an intentional expression worn, it's simply become a default to wrinkle his forehead and wear a tired face.

Bucky could still leave. The heavy door that he'd pushed open to get in taunts him from where he sits.

And it's right as he's weighing out the consequences of bailing on this idea altogether that the sound of a door opening grabs his attention. Head turning in the direction of the noise, tired eyes squinting slightly for a brief moment when light pours into the room. A woman in roughly her thirties steps out of the first door lining the back wall, followed by you. Bucky is only certain of that fact because he recognizes your face from the LinkedIn profile you have.

"Thank you again for coming in, Greta, I'm looking forward to hearing about your daughter's Bat Mitzvah; tell her happy birthday for me." you tell the woman that's begun her leave.

"Of course, I hope your next session goes well," beams a woman, assumedly 'Greta'.

Bucky sucks his bottom lip in, worrying the skin between his teeth before sighing out through his nose. Attempting to take a steadying breath to appease his nerves when--

"Mr. Barnes?" your voice prompts.

Running away isn't a choice anymore. Not realistically.

So Bucky drops his arms and feels the taut muscles in his shoulders before trying to force them to settle. Rolling broad muscle under his leather coat before pressing off the armrests of the wooden chair with gloved hands to get up. His eyes remain averted from your face, but he crosses the room to you nevertheless.

"It's nice to meet you, James, if you'd please step in here with me," you hold the door open for Bucky; Allowing him to step into the relatively small space.

But it's not suffocating, he notices.

It's actually a stark contrast to the heavy waiting room he'd just been sitting in for the past 10 minutes or so. The light of day pours in from the tall, wide window on the back wall of the room. In the brief space where the window doesn't occupy the wall, there's a bookcase sat with countless psychology books. A soft-looking loveseat is pressed against the wall to Bucky's right, and across from that is a matching single chair with an end table. On the table sits a lamp, a box of tissues, and what appears to be a selection of colorful fidget toys. The walls are hogged by large framed photos; some of paintings, some of hyper-realistic photos or art. The floor is a deep gray-brown carpet, the walls painted a soft eggshell. Plants sit on the shelf in front of the window, drinking in the sun; He spots a Wandering Jew, two cactuses (both different breeds), and a succulent perched comfortably.

"Have a seat," your voice interrupts the way Bucky studies the room, and promptly he moves to the loveseat. Lowering himself into it, it's significantly more comfortable than the chair he was just sitting in. Still, Bucky sits stiffly. Uncomfortable; refraining from letting his back touch the couch and posture coming across as closed up without him even realizing it.

Like a mantra, belittling thoughts play on a broken loop through his head.

This isn't going to work. It's going to end badly. I'm going to be seen as a monster all the same. I'm a bad person, I don't deserve this. Other people deserve it more. I'm wasting everyone's time.

The thoughts spiral heavier and heavier for Bucky, even as you close the door; successfully sectioning him and you off from the rest of the world. His jaw sets as you move to sit across from him.

Bucky silently wishes the moment would end before it's even begun.

He wants to go back to his apartment, even if it makes him just as miserable.

“So, Mr. Barnes, from what I’m understanding, you'd like to make me your primary therapist and discontinue working with Doctor Raynor?”

Bucky wants to heal. You see it in him. The first step is admitting you have an issue; that there is something wrong. Not that Bucky is wrong, but his headspace surely is a defunct mess; The task ahead of you in untangling said mess is daunting, but Bucky is worthy of it. He deserves it. Even if he doesn't realize that yet.

He deserves to have someone who's willing to help him understand and put the pieces back together. Not simply throw their hands up the first time that Bucky struggles and leave him to fend for himself - this man was done far too much fending by himself.

It's clear by the silence followed by the words, 'That’s all I’ll ever ask of you', that Bucky isn't sure what to say. Rather than allowing the quiet to eat at him, you continue the conversation. Save him from the anxiety he might be feeling in being unable to muster a reply.

"So, Bucky - Can I call you 'Bucky'?" You ask, sure to keep a warm and approachable composure. Bucky's comfort is your priority; If he feels unwelcomed, he won't come back.

A stiff nod comes from the man across you. He still struggles to meet your gaze; Eventually, you'll both work on that, but for now, you don't mind. Let him take things at his own pace.

"So, Bucky," you reiterate, leaning back in your armchair and crossing your legs at the ankle. Your shoulders ease and you relax into your seat. "How about we start by getting to know you a little bit; Where you'd like to work first and what some of your immediate issues are, in your opinion."

Bucky's teeth clench - you can tell because his jaw flexes and it pulls on your heartstrings for a moment. His shoulders look so tight, his body so stiff. Chiseled features are hard, and his face doesn't seem nearly as full as you'd seen in museums and textbooks while growing up and learning American History. Dare you even say he almost looks sunken in, with dark rings around his eyes and sadness in gray hues.

You wonder how he sleeps at night - if he even does. If he eats the way he should. It's heartbreaking to see a man carved into such a husk.

"Raynor was working with me to make amends," Bucky starts, and surely that doesn't mean what you think it does-- "To make things right for what I did as the Winter Soldier, as a condition of my pardon."

"There's nothing to make right, Bucky." You answer almost immediately; your blood feeling hot for half a moment. You saw history unfold right before you, living in New York. Hearing the chaos of HYDRA overtaking SHIELD in 2014, that Boy Wonder 'Bucky Barnes' was still alive. Many things were kept from the public, as much as they could be, but one thing was for certain. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together could see that Bucky was another victim of HYDRA's. Not the catalyst for the carnage. An unwilling piece of the puzzle.

You have to stop yourself from becoming too expressive, though. Despite the quickness of your words, you maintain an evenness to them. "Now, I won't pretend to know what's happened with it all; That's something for us to talk about with time. But I can promise you right now, Bucky, that I am not Dr. Raynor. And while we can revise the conditions of your pardon, you won't be trying to fix mistakes you didn't make. We're here to help you."

Another break of silence, and Bucky has begun to fidget with his hands. Kneading them together in his lap; your own gaze flickering briefly to watch the leather rub on leather.

"I... I don't know what to say," Bucky speaks, his voice soft and timid. Unmatching the hardness of his face.

A small crease forms between his brows, eyes downcast but briefly lifting to peer at you.

"You don't have to know what to say right now," you gently tell him. "I know you may not agree with my perspective on things right now, but please hear me when I tell you that I'm not here to judge you. You're a survivor, Bucky."

A soft huff comes from him - lip curling into a crooked grin that's humorless. Bucky shakes his head right after, and the expression falls. You watch curiously.

"I'm sorry, it's... Everyone seems to either look at me like the pariah or like a victim." Bucky explains, and for a moment, your lips form a soft smile. You lean forward, shifting your position once more to lean in a little closer to Bucky's space without outright intruding on it.

"You're a survivor," you reiterate. Making sure he hears it. "And there is no shame in being a survivor - I'm a survivor and don't consider it derogatory, it's exactly what I am."

Bucky's brow knits up slightly and his attention is on you fully. Arguably the longest so far since he's been in this room with you. He looks as though he's searching for something and the answer is somehow embedded in you, and deep down, you want to give him whatever it is he's searching for.

You're a survivor, too. It's what made you good at your job. Being able to empathize to a degree with the individuals that come to you; To be able to share your own experiences and show the person sitting in front of you that they are not alone. People like to feel heard and understood. And sometimes the best way to for that is to sit with someone who's been through something similar.

Though you certainly didn't have experience as a prisoner of war who was genetically engineered...

His pink lips part as though he wants to speak, but whatever words were that die on Bucky's tongue when his mouth clamps shut and he finally averts his attention. You follow his gaze briefly to find him looking out the window parallel to him on his right. The light peeked in through the sheer curtains and lit the side of his face partially. You wonder if the sunlight makes him warm at all.

"Do you want me to draw the curtains for you, Bucky?" You offer, wondering if perhaps it's distracting to him.

Bucky shakes his head. "I'm not used to this." "Can you explain what 'this' is?" You ask, gently prompting him in hopes he keeps talking. "I, uhm..." His voice trails - clearly searching for the words. "You're... Calm. I don't entirely know how to explain it. We haven't been talking that long but I was, uh, intimidated to meet you. My precious therapy experiences haven't been the best..." It's the most he's said in a single sitting, you're impressed.

"And that's alright - sometimes not every therapist works out. Many people struggle to understand that therapy is not a 'one size fits all' matter. Sometimes we have to feel out situations and feel out people. If you decide at any point you're no longer comfortable speaking with me, I understand and will be more than happy to help you find another therapist that can specialize in your concerns." Always deliberate as to not call Bucky's situation 'problems' or 'what's wrong'. The last thing you'd want is for him to feel as though he is the root problem in his life. He's not.

"Thank you," the man murmurs softly, and you can tell it's another moment he's unsure what to say. Even the words feel as though it took quite a deal of effort to muster from Bucky. That's okay - sometimes people need to warm up. You're not surprised in the least that Bucky isn't an open book, you wouldn't be if you went through even half of what he did.

"...I'll tell you what," You begin, Bucky's attention drawing right back to you rather than the world outside the glass. "How about we start small, you and I, okay? We don't have to touch anything heavy yet, we can start simple."

"Simple?" Bucky echoes.

"Mhm," a confident nod from you, "I hope I don't sound rude at all, but I can tell you're someone who's carrying a whole lot more than they let on."

That earns a skeptical look from Bucky. You wonder in a brief moment where you potentially lost him when he answers that question for you:

"I'm sure you can." The response comes out almost irritated. No elaboration.

For a moment your mind scrambles, wondering, before it clicks. Still, you encourage Bucky to use his words. "What do you mean?"

A long sigh comes through his nose. "Oh, c'mon," he tries, but you simply look expectantly. Bucky needs to communicate, if they have no form of communication, they have nothing. "Y'know, everyone seems to know about me. Everything with HYDRA..." His expression is progressively hardening; He's lumping you with everyone else. You see it. Even if Bucky doesn't realize what he's doing, he's trying to build that wall again. Brick himself out and separate himself.

"No," You reply, "I only know what you want to share with me, Bucky. I didn't follow your story as it was happening - though I'd be lying if I said I was entirely clueless. Whatever I knew prior to meeting you today, though, doesn't matter. I want to know you. Not what everyone else's perception of you, is. Consider us strangers."

Then, as if to prove your point, you shift forward even more in your seat. Uncrossing your legs and sitting them flat on the floor as you offer your right hand out.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bucky, I'm Dr. Y/N." Maybe the notion seems silly - and it is, honestly. You've both been talking this long.

Bucky is a little taken aback by the gesture; Blinking at you cluelessly for a moment before he huffs again. This time, his half-hearted grin doesn't look so bitter when he offers his right hand out tentatively. A ginger shake, as though he's scared he's going to break you, and the leather of his glove is warm against your palm.

While he doesn't verbally reciprocate the gesture, his expression speaks for him. A conversation without words.

It's clear that it's a bit more comforting to Bucky. For a brief moment he seemed as though he was ready to leave without coming back, but with quick thinking, you're relieved to have reeled him in once more.

"Anything about you outside of this room means nothing to me," you promise. "It's up to you how much you share. No one else."

Bucky's smile pulls just a tad bit wider, and you consider it a victory.

"We'll start simple," You repeat, pulling your hand from his to pick up the notepad on the table beside you. Flipping to a clean page and clicking your pen - you don't miss the way Bucky looks at you almost worriedly. As if you've picked up a weapon when in reality it's a pen and paper.

"I'd like you to find a nice journal that you like. One that you won't be afraid to write in, and one that you'll feel comfortable using. Next week when we see each other, I'd like you to bring it with you." You effortlessly speak while your pen scrawls away on the small lines sheet in front of you - your handwriting reads out on the paper, 'BRING A NOTEBOOK THAT YOU'RE COMFORTABLE WITH USING :)'

You tear the paper from the metal rings that bind it and pass it over to Bucky. He takes it wordlessly, looking at the piece of paper in his hands.

"That's it...?" Bucky ponders aloud. "That's it." Another gentle smile you wear. "Journaling is an extremely useful tool for going through our feelings and helping us take a step back and breathe. It can help us avoid dramatizing situations unintentionally, and it can help us develop a sense of mindfulness and gratitude. You don't need to write anything in it just yet, but if you'd like to decorate it, I won't stop you. Whatever makes you feel comfortable to begin writing in it."

"...Dr. Raynor didn't have me keep a journal," the soldier murmurs. "I'm not Dr. Raynor." you answer simply.

Your first session with Bucky seems to go well on all accounts. Sure there were a few brief tense moments, but you like to hope he'll return. At the end of the day, that's Bucky's decision. If he chooses to continue with you as his therapist, though, you want to help him in any way he can.

He doesn't know it yet, but you're determined. By the end of your time together, you want to have helped Bucky obtain a new perspective and help him live. Not simply survive.

After he leaves your office, you make sure to fill your schedule in for the same time next week.

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