VACANT MIRRORS ; MASTERPOST
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shit’s been rough. shit was rough even before the blip. dr. hart shares an office with dr. raynor, and you share with waiting room with bucky barnes. set before tfatws; a friends-to-lovers, slowburn, eventual smut.
— CHAPTERS / completed!
1. I LANDED ON YOU LIKE A SUCKER PUNCH
2. BUT I’VE HAD WORSE NIGHTMARES
3. SO I’LL BE PLUGGED IN & TUNED OUT
4. WHILE YOU & I RIDE INTO THE SUN
5. PLATONICALLY SO, OF COURSE
6. GO AHEAD & PLUCK MY HEARTSTRINGS
7. TOGETHER WE’RE LOVERS ON THE LAM
8. SPIRALING TOWARDS THE STORM
9. KISSING IN THE AFTERMATH
10. TO THE TEMPO OF YOUR HEARTBEAT.
— DRABBLES & ONE-SHOTS
1. ALL BLACK
1. dolly’s jukebox, an audio imagine
2. the vacant mirrors tag
3. readers make their rabbit!
4. fan art & memes
5. the glass cannon’s club set list
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a place called home
© credits to the author, i found it on google. if you own it, send me a message to add your @.
bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.
Request by @dora-wolfram-blog: Hi <3 so happy to see your requests are open! How about ex Avenger reader who can manipulate the forces of nature and she comes to help Sam? (Idk maybe calling fish from the sea so his family can sell and earn enough money for the boat?) There she meets Bucky who she briefly met after endgame and they get to know each other? Domestic stuff is my weak spot so thank you so much luv u <3
word count: 1.206 words.
warnings/tags: none. bucky being a gentleman and sam a pain in the ass as always.
author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.
Join the tag list here.
Saying that Bucky and you were friends wasn’t something exactly. You fought together a couple of times before you retired from superhero life. Like many of them, the war had finished and you chose calm over being a private agent. More or less like the ex-soldier, with the difference that he went to New York and you didn’t be able to find a home until Sam made you a call. He was quite the opposite of Bucky for you, connecting since the very first second you met. After he told you about his sister’s financial trouble, he offered you a roof to sleep under in exchange for your powers to control the tide and promote the movement of fish stocks. Of course, it was a hit, and you finally found peace in Delacroix. A celebration was inevitable, it was part of Wilsons’ DNA, but you weren’t expecting Bucky to show up with Sam; although he told you in your last call that they were working together. Or something like that.
As soon as your eyes laid on him among the crowd, you knew he had changed after more than six months without seeing each other. You couldn't help but feel happy for Bucky when you saw him smiling for the first time. He had a beautiful and innocent smile, seeming like a new man. Renovated, with want to live, enjoying playing with kids and talking to old men about war stories.
You had placed your back against an oak column, away from the crowd but close enough to check on everyone, in case they need help with anything. A beer was resting against your lips, doubting on continuing drinking, lost in your thoughts. There was something about Bucky going from one side to another, laughing unworried, that had fully captivated your attention. You weren't able to stop looking at him, chuckling when you saw one of Sam's nieces putting a magnet with the form of a crab on his left arm.
“I have that teen-in-love's face on camera”.
You frowned at Redwing some inches away from your face. As a response, you tried to slap it down. But your friend was faster than you controlling that thing.
“He looks good, uh?”
“Oh, shut up…” You replied by clicking your tongue and rolling your eyes, having a sip from your drink to put your eyes away to the sea.
“He asked if you'd be here… Just saying”.
“Shut up, Samuel!” You implored, rubbing the bridge of your nose.
As the night went on and the guests started to leave, Sarah asked you to take Jim and Jody home while she stayed there cleaning with his brother about the business. You were exhausted too, and she noticed it. And after saying your goodbyes, you headed to the parking where your car was stationed, carrying the younger Wilson onto your arms —peacefully sleeping— as his big brother was yawning loudly. At that point, you realized that it was going to be a tough mission to put them in the car.
“Wait! Lemme help”.
The male voice coming from behind you made you turn around and before you could react, Bucky was taking Jody from your arms to his. You smirked softly in response, looking for the key in the right pocket of your jacket to unlock the car. The soldier tucked the younger in the back seat, placing the belt around him as Jim occupied the other side of the SUV.
“It's been good to see you”. You said after closing the door, staying outside in front of him.
“Same”. He replied, not knowing what else to say.
Puckering your lips and clapping the key on your palm, you nodded with your chin, feeling the nerves running through your veins. “Good night, Bucky”.
“Good night, (Y/N)”.
You gave him your back, sighing inappreciably, to open the pilot's place and came in.
“He— Hey, wait”.
“Sam told me… you were tired. I might give you a ride back home. I can wait for him there”. The offering made you glance towards him, already sitting in your car but with a leg rest on the ground. “If you want, I mean…”
Of course he did (...). That son of a bitch had the audacity to push you onto the other. You bit your inner cheek, landing your eyes on the wheel. Yes, you were tired. You woke up at five to sail with Sarah, then you organized the party and cooked for it. You hadn't had a single second of rest during the whole day. And Sam took advantage of it, feeling like he was some kind of Cupido. And you had to recognize that it was also very considerate coming from Bucky.
“I'd appreciate it… actually”. You ended up agreeing, stepping out to give him the keys and ceding your seat.
The ride was silent between the two of you, hearing some quiet indie music playing on the radio while you fought against your brain to stay awake. Luckily, it didn't take him too long to reach Sarah's house —although you were barely keeping your eyes open at this point. Again, he helped you with the kids, walking indoors and following you to their respective rooms. You tucked Jim and Jody on their beds, making sure they were comfy before placing a kiss on their foreheads and wishing them a good night. Bucky had rested his back against the wall, in front of the elder’s room, just waiting for you. And you could swear that you saw him briefly smirking because of the tenderness in your actions.
After closing the last door, you waved your head to urge him to follow you downstairs to the living room. With an exhausted sigh escaping your lips, you let your body fall on the sofa, curling on a side of it to give Bucky some space. You couldn’t help but yawn, turning on the TV by using the control remote.
“It’s good to have a home to come back”.
“Yeah… After all the shitty situations we’ve been through… We deserved a rest, don’t you think?” You replied grabbing a cushion from the floor, using it as a pillow over the armrest. “Sorry, I… I’m deadly tired…”
“Come here, that will hurt when you wake up”.
Bucky didn’t hesitate on beckoning to his arms, taking off his boots heel against heel to place both legs over the coffee table. You didn’t resist, knowing it would be comfier by his way. Sitting up, you lied to the opposite side, being wrapped instantly and snuggled against his warm body. Shameless, you rest your head on his right forearm, practically laying over his lap. But you felt good. You felt like it was a good reward after a long day, rolling down your eyelids and focusing on the caresses in your hair you didn’t know you needed.
For a moment, your mind wandered and fantasized about this last hour being part of your real life. Putting your kids to sleep and then cuddle with your husband till falling asleep. Smell Bucky’s strong and edgy scent. Your hands scratching his back. His fingertips stroking your scalp. Your legs laced (...)
Oh, God, Sam. What did you do?
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Marvel - Bucky Barnes Imagine
Bucky Barnes x Female Reader,
You can meet your soulmate in your dreams but you can't speak to them and you lose most memory when you wake up, but for some reason your soul mate has never met you there. You're certain they don't exist, until one day.
A/N: I imagine this taking place during TFATWS :).
"What do you mean you've never met your soulmate in your dreams?" Sam Wilson asked his friend Bucky.
"I have nightmares, Sam. That is no place for them to be," Buck argued, taking a rag to wipe the blood off of his vibranium arm.
"But they probably think you're dead."
"It's just better off that way," the stoic man finished, his steely eyes meeting Sam's.
"I don't think you're willing to admit that you are scared to try," Sam said, his voice dropping to a softer tone as he leaned forward.
Bucky sighed. "Of course I'm scared. I am not what anybody wants for a lifelong partner," he whispered, dragging his flesh hand down his face.
"Bucky, that's not your choice to make." He stood up, walking away to let him think it over.
Bucky had heard stories of how people meet their soulmate in dreamland. It was a common occurance, but when he had first tried during World War II, he never got a response. There was no way he could even have one now. He was 106 years old after all.
Yet, when he went to bed that night, he decided to push his thoughts aside and focus on calling for you.
You had been waiting for your soulmate to meet you, but it had been years and never once did you hear anything back. You just figured you didn't have one.
Until that night as you were drifting to sleep, it was like a tingling sensation that drew you in. Your eyes were closed, yet it was like following a rope deeper into the darkness of your head.
At the end, was a man. He was tall and stern, and even though you were dreaming, you could feel his presence.
His facial expression remained masked when he saw you, but even you could see his dark eyes widen slightly. You couldn't believe it, after all this time. You searched his body for any distinguishable features, but only found a blurring image. It was going too fast and you were already waking up.
Bucky couldn't believe he saw you on his first try. Plus, seeing you meant no nightmares. Instead, he had a new longing to look for you, and when he woke the following morning he scrambled to write something down before he lost it.
"Shit," he groaned miserably, only managing to write down brown eyes. Most of the population has brown eyes.
"Someone's in a mood," Sam grinned when he caught sight of Bucky's deep frown, deeper than usual that is. He took another bite of toast. "We've got to move on this next lead. Be ready in five."
"Seriously, what's up with you?" Sam asked genuinely when they both were on the plane ready for their next destination.
"I took your advice-"
"Wait, wait. You took my advice?" Sam smiled widely.
"Yeah I took your advice," Bucky said sharply. "And I saw my soulmate, but I can't remember anything about her."
"You know that's just part of the gimmick. You'll figure out a way, Buck," he said sincerely, standing up.
Bucky couldn't be sure. If he dragged this out for too long, there was a possibility that you would find out who he was and never want to meet him. He wouldn't blame you for that.
You felt like you were floating in clouds the whole day. For your entire life, you had seen people meet their person, and as you got older, you realized that the chances of you not having that were becoming greater than actually meeting them.
You didn't know what had changed, but you spent the entire day trying to come up with a plan to finally meet the handsome man you saw in your dreams.
You couldn't remember much. You tried to write or sketch him when you woke up, but all you got was blue eyes.
You wondered if you appeared to him in the same clothes you slept in, and if so, maybe you could fold a note in your pocket. You weren't sure you would even be able to remember it was there. Either way, it was worth a try.
The following night you were so excited you were certain you weren't going to be able to sleep, but you managed, and sure enough there was your broody man.
He gave a wave. His lips twitched up slightly, brightening all of his sharp features.
You reached into the pocket of your sweatshirt. You didn't know why, but you had the longing to do so, and you pulled out a small sheet of paper.
You stepped closer to the man, and placed the paper in his palm.
Y/N, Y/L/N, Your Address
Bucky didn't know how he managed to remember all of that once he woke up. He stared down at the scribbled piece of paper in wonder. Could it really be?
You were probably better off without him. He had not been a good man for most of his life, and you deserved more than him.
That's how Sam found him, sitting on the floor lost in thought, the paper scrunched in his fist.
Bucky relaxed his hand so his friend could see the writing. Sam blew out air, and sat down in front of him.
"What are you waiting for?" he asked as gently as possible.
"She deserves so much better than me."
"You can't decide that for her, Buck. You've kept her waiting long enough." Sam stood up, but spoke once more. "I'll get the plane ready if you change your mind. I think we both deserve a detour."
You were on pins and needles the whole day. You truly wondered if your man got the message or not. You could just vaguely remember holding his hand, which means you must have given the paper, but you couldn't be sure. You were just willing someone to knock on your door.
Yet, as the day passed you grew less and less confident. If he remembered the note, surely he would have tracked you down by now. Unless he didn't actually want to track you down. Your thoughts were a swirling mess.
You didn't have any dreams that night. You woke up in cold sweat, a sinking feeling forming in your stomach. You felt nauseous. Was it you who ruined everything? Maybe he knew who you were already and decided to pass.
You weren't sure you had the energy to get up and go to work, but you forced yourself to start moving. Your thoughts were only going to get worse.
The two men were quite far from the states and Bucky couldn't stop thinking as they made the long trek. For once, these thoughts were not dark flashbacks, they were a bit hopeful. What if she accepted him?
He felt bad that he couldn't sleep. He desperately wanted to see the girl of his dreams, but it just wasn't going to happen. Even Sam kept unusually quiet.
When they finally landed, it was evening, and the pair parted ways. Bucky would finish the journey alone and he was a nervous wreck, even though all of his emotions remained masked.
When he arrived at the address, he took a deep breath and knocked on the door... except there was no answer. He considered his options. He could have messed up the address, or maybe you gave him a fake one. What was he supposed to do now?
He was so lost in thought, he didn't even notice you pulling in.
Your heart fluttered in your chest as you saw the handsome man standing on your doorstep. All of the dreams you had forgotten came rushing forward.
"Hi," you greeted timidly. He was huge up close, definitely taller than you. He wore mostly black, leather gloves on his hands. His features were sharp and familiar from the dream.
He flashed a nervous smile that only lasted a second before his face went blank once more, "I was worried I had the wrong place."
"Yeah, sorry, I was at work," you said, shuffling a bit as the silence consumed you. You had dreamt of this moment, literally, yet you didn't know what to say.
"I'm Bucky," he said, his tone much softer as he looked at you, soaking you in.
"It's great to finally meet you. I'm Y/N, but you know that," you blushed. "Do you want to come in? I can make dinner or we can order something?"
"Okay," he nodded, following you inside. You realized he was very stern and very observant. Combined with your quiet and shy personality, you were quite a match.
"Do you want something to drink?" you asked from the kitchen, pulling ingredients to throw something together for you both to eat.
"No, but thanks." Bucky sat on the stool by the island unsure of what to say or do, but he enjoyed watching you. There was something very positive about you and your home. It felt good.
"Can I ask about the gloves?" you ask curiously, throwing some chicken in a hot pan.
It seemed like you didn't know who he was. He slowly pulled off his gloves, revealing his metal hand.
"Woah, cool," you said, moving closer. "Can I touch it?"
Bucky furrowed his brows, "I guess."
You couldn't help yourself. It was so smooth and shiny, and you giggled happily.
"I guess you can't feel it," you said, reaching for his flesh hand and tracing just like you were on the metal.
He couldn't have been happier to have the stupid arm at that moment. He loved hearing your laugh, and feeling your fingertips gave him goosebumps. His shadowed mind seemed almost calm in your presence, and he knew just from being around for a short time that you were going to be his addiction.
You dropped his hand, meeting his beautiful blue eyes. Your lips quirked automatically, and you were relieved to know the tension was finally broken.
A/N: aw yay I love this. Here's part 2 :))
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dream a little dream of me // b.b
Summary: Bucky has a hard time falling asleep, but not when y/n lulls him to sleep by singing to him
Pairing: avenger!bucky & fem!avenger!reader
Requested: no, my contribution to @sventeen-daybreak‘s writing challenge! Part one of “dreamland”
Warning: mention of nightmares, but other than that pure fluff
Word Count: 3,176
next part >
A/N: congrats angel Dev on such a huge milestone! You’ve been so kind to me since I started writing for Bucky and I can’t think of anyone else who deserves the endless love and support that you do! gif credit to @buvky!
He’s in desperate need of sleep, it’s obvious. There are dark, purple bruises, that are almost black, under his eyes serving as a constant reminder that he needed to get some sleep.
He wears a scowl. His arms are crossed over his chest as he watches those around him snuggle deeper into their seats, resting their heads against folded up blankets, pillows or even the wall as they indulge themselves in the luxury of sleep that he’s so desperate for.
It’s been so long since he’s slept for more than an hour or so at a time that he can’t remember what it’s like to fall into a deep sleep and wake up refreshed.
The last dream he had feels like a figment of his imagination and if he were to try and recall it, parts of it wouldn’t come back to him. Too much time had passed since his last dream. He wasn’t even sure what he used to dream about.
He was an expert on nightmares. They haunted him most nights, filling his subconscious until he woke in a panic, unable to distinguish what was real and what was imaginary.
It wasn’t fair that everyone else got to slip into peaceful slumber without having to endure the horrors he did whenever he closed his eyes.
It simply wasn’t fair.
His eyelids were heavy with sleep, but he knew what would happen as soon as he closed his eyes and succumbed to the tiredness that was taking over him. The relief he’d find would be short lived. It always was.
For the first time since he’d sat down on the jet, he realized just how much his body ached. The physical injuries he’d sustained during the fight had already started to heal, but he was having a hard time regaining the energy he’d exuded during the fight.
Despite the serum that pumped through his veins, he was still human. At least, that’s what he liked to think. He held onto the idea that he was just enhanced and not the monster he was conditioned to believe he was.
He found comfort in the idea of being normal. He liked to pretend sometimes that that’s exactly what he was. A normal man. A normal man who had normal issues like trouble falling asleep after a hard day of work.
Except, he wasn’t a normal man. No matter how much he desired to be, there was nothing normal about him. The moonlight reflecting off of his vibranium arm was an unwelcome reminder of that.
A heavy sigh left his lips. It was a shame it didn’t fill him with the relief he hoped it would. His chest still felt tight, even after the deep exhale and he wondered if it would ever get any easier for him to breath or if he’d always feel the painful ache deep in his chest.
He wasn’t aware that he wasn’t the only one awake. You watched him from the row of seats in the way back of the jet, the ones that had been converted into a bed of sorts.
It was really just three chairs put together with the armrests removed, but sometimes, after really long, draining missions, you’d use it as a bed.
Realistically, it was meant to treat the injured. If anyone became badly injured during a mission, the bed was there for them to relax until you arrived back to the compound where their injuries could be examined and treated by medical professionals in the med bay, but since no one had sustained any life threatening injuries, you got to use it as a bed.
You could tell that Bucky was contemplating something. Even though his back was turned towards you, you could tell that he was deep in thought, which meant for him, he was in an internal battle with himself.
He had tells that only you seemed to notice. The sound of his signature deep sigh was deafening as it lingered in the silence of the jet. You couldn’t see it, but you were sure he was rubbing the pad of his thumb and pointer finger together too. It was something he did when he was trying to distract himself, something you noticed he did too often.
You were tired.
You’d stayed up the entire night before gathering intel for the mission and doing the last bit of recon before you infiltrated the base you’d been staking out for months. The last time you slept had to have been over thirty six hours ago, but as soon as you noticed your friend struggling a few feet in front of you, you were wide awake.
Sleep could wait.
The thin blanket that’d been keeping you warm was now piled up next to you as you rose to your feet, careful not to make any noise and risk waking your other teammates.
Slowly, you made your way over towards Bucky. Clearing your throat softly, you alerted him of your presence so that he heard you coming and didn’t freak out when he saw you step into his peripherals.
“Hey-“ Your voice is barely above a whisper as you offer him a soft wave. He returns the gesture with a forced smile, one that might’ve been able to convince anyone else that it was genuine, but you weren’t just anyone else.
“Come here-“ You urge him gently, reaching for his hand and intertwining your fingers with his. He doesn’t resist. A long time ago, he might’ve. He might’ve flinched or removed his hand from yours entirely, but he wasn’t who he used to be.
He reluctantly allowed you to lead him up and out of the seat he’d been sitting in for the past few hours. His legs went numb as soon as he stood and it felt good to stretch them out after he realized he hadn’t in the almost five hours the jet had been in the air.
The worst part about international missions were the flights back. The flights there were just about as boring, except, on the flights there, there was always adrenaline coursing through everyone’s veins. On the flights back, their exhaustion took over.
You led him to the back of the jet, where you’d sat before, out of earshot from everyone else who had dozed off hours ago.
Dropping his hand from yours, you pulled the blanket you’d left discarded back over your lap as you took a seat.
“Sit.” You instructed him, patting the open space next to you and he silently obliged, squeezing into the space next to you.
He doesn’t say anything, only offers you a smile when you meet his stare and he can tell almost instantly that you’re not buying it.
“Are you ok?” Your voice is just above a whisper now, still soft, but loud enough for him to hear you without disturbing your teammates.
“Yeah.” He nodded, deflecting the question quickly by asking, “How about you?”
You’d never forced him to talk about what was bothering him and maybe that’s why the two of you always got along so well.
Everyone else demanded answers from him, but you, you took his word for it when he said he was fine, even when you knew he was lying, and gave him the space he needed when he needed it.
It was clear that he didn’t want to talk about what was bothering him, so you didn’t push him to. Sometimes, just being there for him, whether it was sitting besides him in silence or giving his hand a gentle squeeze was enough to remind him that you were there and that whatever he was going through, he didn’t have to go through it alone.
He appreciated that more than you’d ever know.
“I’m alright.” You replied with a soft yawn as you snuggled deeper into the comfort of the converted bed, your back resting against the cold metal lining of the jet as you adjusted.
“Aren’t you tired?” Bucky asked even though he already knew the answer. The bags under your eyes were purple and blue. They were brighter than the ones under his sunken eyes, but still pretty dark. You kept rubbing your eyes with the back of your hands in an attempt to keep yourself awake. He knew, because he’d seen you do it at least a hundred times before.
“A little-“ You admitted, resting your head on his shoulder. “But I didn’t think it was fair to leave you awake all alone.”
A genuine smile tugged at Bucky’s lips upon hearing your confession. One of the very first things he noticed about you was your selflessness. You always put the needs and feelings of others above your own. There wasn’t a selfish bone in your body.
“You can go to sleep, doll.” He assured you as you reached for his hand and intertwined your fingers together once again. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I’ll always worry about you.” You confessed, meeting his stare as you lifted your head from his shoulder.
It was the first time you’d caught a glimpse of him up close and the first time you could see just how tired he was. You could tell from a distance, anyone could, but something about seeing the effects from the lack of sleep up close was so very different.
You brought your palm to his cheek and he had to fight every urge to not nuzzle deeper into your touch. When you brushed your thumb gently over the sunken, hollow bags just above his cheekbone, his heart began to race.
He’d grown used to your touch. It was always friendly. Welcomed, even. You were always so gentle with him. Even though he was made of superhuman abilities and vibranium, you touched him like he was glass, like he was fragile, delicate and about to break at any moment. You touched him like he was human. Like he was normal.
If he wasn’t careful, he allowed himself to read deeper into the physical intimacy between the two of you. It was innocent. It always had been. It was the way your fingers would lace with his when you’d notice his breathing would pick up or the way you’d find comfort by resting your head on his shoulder. They were friendly gestures he wished were more.
If he wasn’t careful, he almost believed they were. He believed that there was something more than just concern or care behind the stolen stares and lingering touches but then he remembered that you had someone waiting for you when you got home.
Your boyfriend was an incredible guy. He reminded Bucky a lot of himself before he joined the Army and as much as he wanted to dislike him, as much as he wanted a reason to have you all to himself, he simply couldn’t.
There was a very fine line between friendship and something more and some days it was harder for him to accept his place on that line than it was for others. Especially when you were so blissfully unaware of the effect you had on him.
“You’re fighting it, aren’t you?” The sadness in your voice caused a pang of guilt to settle in his gut.
“Don’t want to wake everyone up.”
It’s happened more than once before. If Bucky gives into his desire to sleep, it usually results with him waking in a panic moments later with a sheen of sweat dripping down his forehead and loud, raspy screams burning his throat.
It’s a lot to deal with, but it doesn’t compare to the sympathetic looks he gets for the rest of the ride home. It doesn’t compare to the weight of guilt he carries with him when he notices someone’s eyelids fluttering shut and then forcing them awake, as if they’re afraid to fall asleep and be woken the same way again.
It’s a lot to deal with, so he chooses not to.
You can see how desperate he is for sleep. The exhaustion is taking over his body and you wish that you could give him the relief you know that he needs.
“Can we try something?” You let out and he nods before you offer him instruction, “Lay down-“
Flipping the blanket off of your lap you point to where it rested, motioning for him to rest his head in your lap instead. He’s hesitant, unsure what he’s agreeing to if he does as you ask and you can tell he’s reserved.
“It’s ok, Buck.” You assure him before gently adding, “Just lay down.”
With a deep breath, he does. He rests his head in your lap and pulls his knees up onto the converted row of chairs. There’s really only enough space for one person, but the two of you make it work.
He’s thankful you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating, but he hears the way yours picks up as soon as his head is in your lap.
Slowly, cautiously, you brush his hair out of his eyes and run your fingers across his scalp.
“This ok?” You ask him, fingers still toying with his hair and he’s quick to reply, in fear that if he doesn’t, you’ll stop.
With a smile, you instruct him again, “Close your eyes.”
His body tenses and he’s afraid, something he’ll never admit out loud. He knows that you’re trying to help, but he’s afraid that if he falls asleep that he’ll wake up and you’ll be the one dealing with the consequences of his slumber.
He’s afraid that he might hurt you if he wakes in a panic with his limbs flailing or worse, won’t recognize you as you try to calm him down. It’s happened before. He was so out of it once that he didn’t recognize you, let alone Steve for a few minutes. He was in a fugue state and it was by far the scariest thing that’d ever happened to him.
He’s been afraid of it happening again, which is partly another reason that he fights his sleep. He never wants to see the sadness he saw in your eyes that day ever again.
“Y/N-“ He warns, his voice cracking as he tried to voice his concerns.
“I’m right here, Buck.” You promised him. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
He’d never been very vulnerable. He always had a hard time opening up to people and letting them in. Trust was something he didn’t give easily. But something about the assurance in your voice, something about the gentleness of your tone made him believe that everything was going to be alright, even though he knew deep down that there was a chance that it wouldn’t be.
He allowed himself to trust you. He silenced the voices in his head that told him this was a bad idea and that it wasn’t going to work because he believed in you.
Humming a soft tune, you continued to run your fingers through his hair and he closed his eyes. His heart raced as soon as he was surrounded by darkness, but then, you started singing a soft, sweet melody he’d never heard before.
He’d never heard the song before, but that didn’t matter, he found comfort, not only in your soothing voice, but the words that you’d chosen to sing to him.
Sleep was threatening to pull him under, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t trying to fight it.
He focused on you.
He focused on your fingers in his hair and your voice as he was surrounded by darkness and he allowed himself to give into the one thing he’d been denying himself of.
“Even when we fade eventually to nothing-“ You sang softly, a smile on your lips as you felt Bucky’s full weight on your body as he finally relaxed, “You will always be my favorite form of loving”
He managed to sleep for just over three hours. It wouldn’t have been enough for anyone else, but god, was it enough for him.
He dreamt of you.
He dreamt of you standing outside of a home that resembled the one he grew up in so many years ago. The sun was shining brightly, almost too brightly for it to be enjoyable.
You wore a sundress and a wide smile as you waved him over towards you.
He saw a ring on your finger. The small, sapphire stone was familiar to him and he’s pretty sure it belonged to his mother. He hadn’t seen it since he was a child, and was almost positive that it was lost a long time ago, but it looks like it’s found a home on your finger and he’s elated.
As soon as he was close enough, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips, stunning him.
He wasn’t expecting the gesture, but as soon as he realized what was happening, he brought his hand up to the side of your face and cupped your cheek, deepening the kiss.
His other hand pulls you flush against him and it’s only then that he realizes he can feel the fabric of your dress between his fingers. He pulls away suddenly, looking down to his hands only to find that they’re both flesh.
He isn’t missing a limb and his mouth falls open in shock, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.
You grab his hands, both of them and he chokes back a sob when he can feel your hands, actually feel both of your hands, with his.
He’s about to say something when a little boy comes running out from the backyard. He can’t be more than five years old and he’s calling out for someone.
Behind him, a younger girl is chasing him. She’s maybe three years old with a dress similar to the one you’re wearing.
“Daddy’s home!” One of them shouts and it’s only then that he realizes just how much the little boy looks like you.
“Daddy’s home.” You confirm as both children wrap their arms around his legs, embracing him tightly.
He looks to you and he’s absolutely speechless. There’s so much he wants to ask, so much he wants to say, but you beat him to it.
“I love you.” You whispered with a smile and he was positive that he never wanted to wake up again.
For the first time in a long time, he didn’t fear sleep. Not when it had the potential to bring him to a place where you were his and he was yours.
In his dreams, he was a normal man. In his dreams, he lived the life he desired most.
He’d come to learn that he was quite fond of dreams, actually, and maybe, just maybe, giving into his desire for sleep wasn’t as bad as he thought it was. Not if it meant he could hold you, kiss you, and say the things he knew he could never say to you when he was awake.
Tagging some angels I adore: @blissfulparker @buckyspurpose @celestialbarnes @buckyblues @fallinforevans @buckycuddlebuddy @honeysucklesteve @sventeen-daybreak @wkemeup @reidsconverse
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Plot: Bucky walks back into your life, and with it, your past, along with all the feelings that were there.
Warnings: smut; tfatws!bucky, i never know how to end fics, heartbreak, tension, love making, unprotected sex.
Word Count: 5908
A/N: It’s 12am and I definitely did not proof read this - I take responsibility for any and all mistakes
Okay so with Bucky they used to be together when he was the winter soldier but then he just up and left without a trace so she married into riches but her husband died?! So now she lives alone in a big ol house
“Excuse me, Y/N.” The soft voice caught the woman’s attention as it echoed through the room. Y/N looked up, noticing the petite, older maid standing in the dimly lit wooden frame of the doorway.
“What is it Mary?” Y/N gave her a welcoming smile, looking up at the maid expectantly as she sat up a little straighter in the grand armchair. She delicately folded in the corner of the page of the mystery novel she was reading before neatly placing it down on the side table next to her.
“I do apologise for bothering you at this hour, but you have a visitor.” Y/N noticed the way Mary played nervously with her apron, her unusual jitteriness aroused suspicion in Y/N. Y/N listened intently as she took her reading glasses from her face, placing them on top of her book. “I told him to come back another time, but he’s quite persistent.” She noticed Mary look down the hall to her left as she spoke, as if being intimidated by a figure that was unseen to Y/N. Something definitely wasn’t right.
“He?” Y/N’s ears perked up as a warm flush of both anxiety and excitement washed over her body. She quickly moved to wrap the silk dressing gown tighter around her body, hiding the lace trimmed nightgown she wore underneath. No. It couldn’t be him.
“Yes, he…he said you’d want to-“ The figure of a man emerged in front of Mary, cutting her sentence off. Y/N froze from where she sat, her heart stopping momentarily as she watched a secret part of her past walk into the room. James Buchanan Barnes. The Winter Soldier. Her first lover. Her partner in crime. Her everything. Here. After all this time. After all the heartbreak. She hadn’t seen Bucky since he’d abandoned her late one night while she slept, disappearing without a trace. She searched for him, terrified that one of his enemies had caught up to him. She spent night after night awake hoping that he’d walk back through the door, but he didn’t. He never came back for her.
She had to stop her heart from leaping out of her chest as she sat there, speechless. All of their memories flooded through her mind. Their first kiss. Their first mission. Their first time having sex. The adventures. The soft touches. The sweet nothings. The plans they made. The heartache. The pain. The agonising months spent trying to forget him.
“Bucky.” Her voice cracked as she took in his changed appearance, looking him up and down. He’d cut his hair. His once clean shaven face now covered in stubble. His eyes seemed softer. He looked older.
Bucky’s chest heaved beneath his leather jacket, noticing the pain in Y/N’s eyes. He glanced down at his hands as he slipped off his gloves, a sigh leaving his lips as he second guessed his decision to come here. Damn his therapist and her stupid idea to make peace with his past.
“Thank you.” Bucky nodded towards Mary, signalling for her to leave. Poor Mary looked like she would burst into tears at any moment, terrified of both being told off by Y/N for letting this happen and of being killed by the intimidating visitor. She looked over at Y/N for guidance, not wanting to leave her alone without her consent. Y/N nodded reassuringly with a soft smile at Mary, who’s eyes softened with worry as she quickly moved out of the doorframe, obeying Y/N’s wishes as she shut the door behind her.
Bucky turned his head back towards Y/N, his gorgeous blue eyes making her heart skip a beat. She dropped her head from his gaze, her cheeks heating up as she forced herself to ignore the way he made her stomach flutter with butterflies. “Y/N.” He smiled softly, sensing the trepidation extruding from her as he stepped further into the room, placing his gloves down on the coffee table.
Bucky grumbled to himself as she ignored him, the reality of facing her was a lot harder than he ever imagined it would be. His eye caught view of the teapot sitting on the silver tray, leaning down to pour himself a cup silently to buy himself some time.
Y/N scoffed with a roll of her eyes at his confidence to make himself at home, shaking her head as she felt her eyes getting slightly teary. “Help yourself.” She spat sarcastically as she avoided his gaze, resting her body back against the chair.
Bucky chanced a quick look up at her before lifting the teacup to his lips, sipping the half cold liquid. He chose to ignore her comment, he deserved it, and so much more. “You been keeping well?”
She bit the inside of her cheeks as she kept quiet, keeping up the heartless facade for as long as she could. She refused to let him know how much it pained her to see him, how much she still longed for the kind of love that they’d once shared.
“I think about you a lot, Y/N.” Bucky broke the silence as he placed the teacup onto the table, slumping down onto the couch opposite her, spreading his legs as he adjusted the leather jacket to make himself more comfortable. “My therapist says it actually seems to help with my nightmares.” He continued, a pout on his lips as he cupped his hands together, relaxing into the chair.
“You have a therapist?” She raised her eyebrows accusingly, crossing her arms over her body as she felt her heart beat quicken with anger. Her blood boiled as she watched him sitting there as if he hadn’t broken her heart.
Bucky raised his eyebrow as a response, a subtle nod of his head as he clenched his jaw. “It’s a condition of my pardon.” He spoke matter-of-factly as he shrugged his shoulders. He hated this. He hated how shut off she’d made herself. He hated having to play the part of an asshole, knowing her well enough to know it was the only way to keep her talking.
“She’s got me going through this amends list,” He mumbled with a sigh of exasperation, letting his head rest against the back of the couch. “she’s even given me three rules to to obey in the process.” He let out a chuckle of amusement as he mocked the Doctor’s orders.
Y/N let out a sigh of aggravation, rubbing her fingers against her temple as she closed her eyes. it was too late in the night for her to handle this kind of emotional turmoil. “Bucky, why are you-”
“The first rule is that I can’t do anything illegal.” He cut her off, he didn’t want to have to answer her questions. Questions he didn’t know the answers to. He shifted quickly to sit forward in his seat, picking up the teacup to take another sip of his tea. He noticed her make no effort to cut him off, his plan was working. “The second is that nobody gets hurt.” He smirked as he looked down at the cold liquid, swirling it around in the cup.
Y/N crossed her legs as she sat forward, leaning in to listen to his speech as she kept her eyes focused on her fingers. She noticed the slight tan line on her ring finger, where her wedding band once sat, a million thoughts filling her mind. Bucky wasn’t the only one that had to make amends with his past. He wasn’t the only one that had tried to move on.
Bucky sensed her walls crumbling as she got used to his presence again. He lifted his eyes as he placed his teacup on the table once more, his eyes lifting to her body, admiring her as he always had done. He’d left to protect her. To save her from the inevitable doom they faced as assassins. He was terrified of not being in control of his own mind. He was terrified of hurting her. Something he’d ended up doing anyway.
He never stopped thinking about her. Ever. It didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing, he always thought about her. Like everything else that was going on around him was just noise, a distraction keeping him from her. With everyday that passed the longing to be with her seemed to grow. Without her, all he had was war, assassination, fights, destruction, death. Without her, that’s the only thing he had to focus on.
“Do you remember the first time we went on a mission together?” Bucky smiled softly, feeling his heart thud against his chest as the memories flooded through his mind, bringing back all the emotion.
Y/N’s eyes welled with tears as she swallowed the lump in her throat, the tension in the room rising so high she found it hard to breathe. “I told you I’d die for you.” She relived the memory in her mind, her head spinning as she smiled so subtly that it was unnoticeable to Bucky. After that first mission, she’d seen the worst of Bucky. She’d seen him as the heartless Hydra assassin. She’d seen that he was just as broken as her, and she fell in love with him in that moment.
Bucky’s stomach fluttered with butterflies, a fire of hope igniting inside of him as she slowly started opening up to him. “and I told you that you’d never have to.” He added with a shaky breath, his metal fingers tapping anxiously against his thigh. One wrong move and he’d be shoved from the room and out of her life for good. “Because I’d kill anyone that even looked at you the wrong way.” He chuckled softly at the memory, remembering so vividly how bright she’d made his dark world in that moment.
They sat in silence for a moment, both lost in the memory of each other. In a time where they’d had little control of their minds, with what Hydra was forcing the super soldier’s to do, they found refuge in each other. They found love in the darkest place, a love so rare and beautiful. A love that was impossible to get over.
“And you did,” Y/N’s voice dropped to almost a whisper, clenching her jaw to fight back the tears as she sat there, hurt and angry. How dare he come back into her life without warning, bringing up all of their precious memories that it had taken her a lifetime to forget. “Until you left.”
Bucky closed his eyes as he fought off the reminder. He’d woken up from a nightmare, his body glistening with sweat, his metal hand tightly wrapped around her throat. She was sleeping peacefully next to him, as she always did. It wasn’t the first time he’d choked her in her sleep. But there was a fear in his eyes, born from the lack of control that caused him to never want to hurt her again. He couldn’t help his nightmares, he couldn’t stop the lack of control he had over his mind. The only thing he could do was leave. To let her carry on with her life, without him.
“Do you miss me?” Bucky asked suddenly, his eyes opening to watch her intently. He had spent the last few years fighting to find a way to get back control of his mind, a small glimmer of hope alive in his heart that they’d find their way back to each other somehow, and he’d be fixed when they did.
She shook her head, a small ironic chuckle passed her lips as his words cut through her like a knife. “Don’t.” She whispered sadly, the loneliness of the last few years engulfing her body. He’d been on her mind everyday. She’d always hoped he’d somehow find her, that he’d bring back the love he ripped from her. “Don’t do that.” She sighed softly, blinking rapidly to stop her tears from flowing down her face. Even when she’d tried to move on, live a normal life, marry a wealthy man who adored her, she felt nothing. When her husband passed away suddenly, leaving to her his whole estate, she felt nothing. She’d never been able to feel anything, apart from when she was with Bucky. “Don’t come here, after all these years, acting like nothing hap-”
“Answer the question.” He demanded with a tone of frustration as his metal fist slammed against the coffee table, desperate to hear her say it. He’d lived without her for long enough, the fear of losing her again was too much to bare. He could tell she was losing control by the way her lips pursed together, trying to maintain her strong appearance.
“What do you want from me?” She sighed in defeat, hesitant to opening herself back up to being hurt again. She felt his warmth from across the table, the familiarity of him was something that brought her comfort, and something she desperately craved more of.
“Yes or no, Y/N, do you miss me?” He kept his eyes focused on her intensely, his jaw clenching as he watched her break. Bucky knew exactly what he was doing. He knew he was her weakness. He knew that she couldn’t say no to him. “Because if it’s a no, I will walk out that door and never come back.”
“Yes.” She whispered shakily, the fear of him leaving proved too much as the room fell completely silent. “I miss you, okay. I’ve always missed you. It took me a lifetime try and get over you leaving, to forget you and to be honest Buck, I’m still not sure it worked. I miss you every single day and it kills me inside. Are you happy now?”
“No,” Bucky spoke back instantly, his face as straight as an arrow as he rested his back against the chair. He watched single a tear slowly roll down her cheek, her eyes closing as her head dropped in defeat. “Come and whisper it to me.”
If there was one thing she knew about Bucky, it was that he wouldn’t stop until he got his way. She sighed as a sign of surrender, standing to her feet as she self consciously adjusted her dressing gown to cover her body.
She slowly padded over to stand in front of him, her heart racing as she chanced a glance up at his face. His features looked even more beautiful up close, her hands itching to reach out and touch him. She fiddled with her fingers nervously, cautiously leaning towards him, breathing in his intoxicating scent as her lips gently brushed against his ear lobe. “I still miss you, James.” I whispered.
She let her lips linger close to his skin for longer than necessary. She knew she was playing a dangerous game, but yet she still made no effort to move. Bucky’s hot breath tickled her neck as she closed her eyes, her head spinning in a euphoria of his presence. It was something she could never tire of, something that made her drunk, something that left her addicted.
She riskily turned her head to face his, their breathing the only sound breaking the silence as her hand slid up to hold onto the metal of his shoulder outside of his leather jacket. Bucky tested the boundaries, following her movements as he turned his head to face her, their lips almost brushing.
Y/N gulped as her tongue brushed over her lips, her eyebrows arching in anticipation as her eyes flickered between his lips and his eyes. She needed him. All of him.
“Don’t take it away from me now.” Y/N begged in a whisper against his lips, her fingers digging into his shoulder as she felt him shuffle to the edge of the seat. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he moved, his metal hand lifting cautiously to rest gently on her hip. Bucky’s heart fluttered with happiness, her longing for his love and affection making him feel euphoric. He’d longed for the day to have her wrapped up in his arms again, to have her soft skin on his.
“I miss you, doll.” Bucky whispered against her lips, causing her heart and tummy to flutter as she admired him with doe eyes, like he was the only thing in the world. His words marked the tipping point, her self control demolished as she nudged her face against his, connecting their lips for what felt like the first time.
Bucky wasted no time in kissing her back gently, both of them lost in the desperation of making the most of every second. He naturally took control, his flesh hand lifting to cup her cheek as she let her hand drift to the back of his neck. All of their memories came flooding like a tidal wave through their minds, their passion just as intense as when they were together, almost as though nothing had changed, as if he’d never left.
Bucky pulled her down into his lap as he sat back against the couch, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as he wrapped his arms around her body, feeling as much of her body as he could get his hands on. She adjusted her thighs to straddle his lap, ignoring the way her nightie rode up her thighs, revealing more of her silky flesh to the super soldier. The sudden intimacy didn’t scare her, it didn’t make her feel vulnerable or exposed. With Bucky, she felt safe. She felt loved. She felt like nothing could ever bring her harm.
Bucky’s breathing hitched as she bravely rocked her hips down to meet his, feeling his bulge rub against her thinly clothed pussy. Y/N let out a soft moan, feeling herself already coming apart for him, only ever getting so aroused for Bucky.
Bucky reacted to every slight movement of her body, using his grip on her hips to pull her even closer to him. Their chests pressed together as her hands cupped the sides of his neck, a hum of satisfaction erupted from her lips as they continued to softly kiss.
Y/N felt her arousal drench onto her panties from the familiar feeling of his big cock pressing achingly against her core. Their tongues played as they desperately grabbed at each other’s bodies, both craving the raw love they could only get from each other.
Y/N slid her hands down his chest as she pulled back from the kiss, her pupils glazed over with lust as they both caught their breaths. Bucky stared her down, his lips parted, his chest heaving as he panted. He was slightly nervous that she’d changed her mind until he watched her tug on the rope of her dressing gown, letting it slip off of her body and onto the floor. Bucky groaned softly, feeling his cock twitch, desperate the feel her wet walls clenching around him. He used the opportunity to admire her body, running his hands over her thighs and up under her nightie. His flesh fingertips burned into her bare skin, his metal digits like ice as she rocked her hips back and forth slowly, keeping her eyes locked on his.
Bucky breathed out shakily, leaning up to reconnect their lips as he ran his hands over the round of her ass, pulling her harder against him as he grew needier with every second. She arched her back into his touch, pressing her chest back against his as she felt the strap of her nightie drops to her shoulder, revealing a little more of her chest.
She sucked sensually on Bucky’s tongue as he let her hands roam over his sides teasingly, feeling him smile at the loving gesture. His fingers hooked into her panties, her hips jolting in response as she assisted him in making quick work to tug them down her legs.
“Not here.” She quickly moved to grab hold of his wrist, her breath shaky against his lips as her eyelids fluttered in weakness. Bucky watched curiously as she leaned back, shuffling off of his lap to stand up, holding her hand out for Bucky to take. Drunk in each other’s presence, they felt complete in a broken world, Bucky took her hand as stood up, admiring the innocent look in her eyes. Y/N used his hand to balance as she stepped out of her panties, licking her lips to conceal a cheeky smile as a thought crossed her mind. She bent down to pick up her discarded underwear, stepping closer to him as she kept her eyes on his. Bucky smirked deviously in amusement as she shoved the panties into the pocket of his leather jacket, rolling his eyes as he tried to contain how desperate he was for her.
His smile didn’t fade as he watched her turn around, following close behind her as she lead them out of the room and down the hallway.
Bucky’s hands wrapped around her waist as they reached the bottom of the stairs, forcing her to turn around and face him. “I miss you.” He whispered softly as she noticed the way his chest rose and fell rapidly, the long lost feeling of love proved overwhelming for the metal armed soldier as he pressed his lips desperately against hers, his strength making it easy for him to lift her up.
She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, whimpering into the kiss as he walked them up the grand staircase on the house. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers massaging the back of his head as she sucked on his lip seductively.
She gasped as her back hit the door, Bucky’s strength momentarily faltering as his head spun with pleasure. His hand fiddled with the handle, twisting it to open the door as he kept her wrapped around his body.
Bucky walked them over to the neatly made bed in the middle of the room, throwing her down onto the mattress as he moved to stand between her open legs.
Y/N watched as he took off his coat, his eyes focused on her body as he threw the leather jacket carelessly onto the floor. She bit her lip, her pussy clenching in need as she slowly lifted her legs to press her heels flat against the mattress. Bucky’s eyes glanced between her legs, his pupils displaying as he caught an unobstructed view of her silky, wet pussy.
“You got a new arm.” She whispered softly as her eyes ran over his metal arm, it wasn’t the same as the one she remembered. This one was black, with gold detailing, much more subtle than the red starred, silver arm she knew. She licked her lips with anticipation, mesmerised with the sleek style of his upgraded metal appendage.
Bucky’s eyes stayed glued between her legs, pressing his lips together in a hard line as he watched her mound move with every clench of her needy cunt. He hummed in response to her comment, too turned on to focus on her words as he tugged his t-shirt over his head.
Bucky’s jaw clenched as he watched her sit up, her legs staying in place as she snaked her nightie up her body at a teasingly slow pace. Bucky dropped his hands to his belt buckle, their eyes glued to each other as they removed the last of their clothing, leaving them both naked.
She reached forward, her fingers delicately tracing the part of his shoulder where his flesh fused with the metal of his arm. Bucky’s chest heaved at the delicate nature of her touch, his emotions overwhelming him as he cupped her wrist in his hand. His eyes caught her gaze as she used his grip on her arm to tug him towards her, leaning in to press her lips against his abs with delicate kisses. Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut at the feeling, his breath hitching in his throat as her lips travelled lower.
Y/N hummed against his skin, her clit throbbing for attention as Bucky took the hint, pushing her back down onto the mattress as he climbed on top of her. He cupped her jaw as he pressed his lips against hers in a passionate kiss, his hard cock pressing against her slick.
Her nails dug into his skin as her hands explored his bare flesh, whimpering into the kiss as she lifted her hips to meet his. The movement of their hips rubbing together caused a friction that caused both of them to gasp out in pleasure, hungry for more.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, bucking her hips desperately to meet his as Bucky let out a weak moan. He leaned up to press his metal hand into the mattress next to her head, his flesh hand sliding up her waist to cup her boobs, squeezing them gently.
“Bucky,” Her eyes fluttered closed as she let herself sink back into the mattress, overwhelmed with pleasure and need as she squeezed her thighs around his hips. “I need you inside of me.”
“You’ve got me.” Bucky reassured her sweetly as he restrained himself from completely letting go and fucking her hard into the mattress. There would be time for that later, but right now, they both needed to take their time, to feel each other’s love.
He let his thick cock slide up and down her folds, drenching his length in her wetness. He dropped his head to her neck, kissing her soft skin delicately as his tip nudged between her folds.
Bucky’s eyebrows arched as he tried to stay in control of his primal instincts, his hand fisting into the mattress as he let out a guttural moan. He slowly moved his hips forward, pressing his thick length into her as she gasped under him.
Her hand flew up to grip his bicep, her lips parting as her back arched from the mattress, her walls pulsing around his length. “Bucky.” She moaned out his name breathlessly as he slid deeper inside of her, his lips sloppily kissing her shoulder as he moved to thrust his cock in and out of her slowly.
His tongue swiped along her collarbone before his lips moved lower, leaving gentle kisses over her chest. “I’m no longer the winter soldier.” Bucky mumbled against her chest, licking over her nipples which sent an overwhelming wave of pleasure through her body. He lifted his head back to hers, their lips colliding as she traced every detail of his chest with her delicate fingers.
She remembered every detail of his body. Every muscle, every scar, ever definition of his perfect skin. She felt his cock buried deep inside of her, filling her up as Bucky let out a groan, his hand moving up to cup her chin as he forced her to look up at him.
Bucky stopped his movements, gazing deep into her eyes as their souls connected, an intense feeling of satisfaction filling their bodies as his lips came crashing down onto hers again. She whimpered as she pulled him closer, their chests pressing against each other as Bucky let out a desperate groan, moving his hips to fuck her.
Y/N let out a shaky cry as her fingers dug into his skin, she’d forgotten just how big his cock was. He filled her up with every thrust, breathing heavily against her lips as little moans erupted from within his throat.
Her legs wrapped around his hips as her pussy clenched around his length, trying to accommodate his size. Y/N pecked his lips over and over soothingly as he fucked into her, the sounds of their bodies slapping together with every thrust. She poured out her love for him, the love that never went away, and he felt it, with every kiss.
Bucky’s stomach clenched as his tip nudged against her cervix, his cock throbbing as he felt how her body reacted to every one of his movements. Her tits bounced with every hard thrust of his hips, her clit rubbing against his skin as she hugged his body tight against hers.
He growled between kisses, thrusting into her so deep that the bed hit the wall with a bang every time he fucked into her. She tried to roll her hips, her body weakening under his as she chased her release that was already building in her stomach.
Bucky’s balls tightened as he slid easily in and out of her drenched pussy, in awe of the way her body was clinging to him as though she’d never let him go. He was already close to his climax, he hadn’t been with anyone since her, his cock marvelling in the feeling of being back inside of her.
“My name is James Bucky Barnes.” His balls slapped against her as he grunted the words through gritted teeth, the sound filling the room as Y/N’s mouth dropped open with a gasp of pleasure. Their breaths mixed together as Bucky’s hips stuttered, his eyes squeezing shut at the overwhelming amount of pleasure coursing through his veins.
Bucky groaned weakly as he brought his knees up to rest under hers, keeping her impaled on his cock as he dropped his mouth to her chest. Y/N bit down on her lip as her eyes mirrored the weakness of her body, watching him fuck up into her at a slower pace.
She moaned at the feeling of his lips sucking at her sensitive nubs, her eyes almost rolling back in pleasure as his tongue swirled around her hardened nipples.
“And you’re part of my efforts to make amends.” Bucky moaned at the feeling of the deeper angle, cuddling her against his chest as he fucked into her. The pair were blinded by the sheer feeling of ecstasy, nothing on earth had ever felt as good as making love to each other.
Bucky moaned as he felt his orgasm approaching, his hips jolting automatically as his metal hand flew forward to grip the wooden headboard. Y/N’s back fell against the mattress again as Bucky held her down by her hip, giving him more leverage to thrust into her with such depth she thought her legs would split in two.
“Bucky.” She breathed out shakily, arching her body into his as her head flew back to press into the pillow. Bucky’s head fell softly into the crook of her neck, his little grunts intensified by his lips on the shell of her ear.
Her hand pressed against his tummy as he pounded into her, a shiver shooting down her spine as she tried to control her impending orgasm, not wanting the night with him to end. She tugged on his hair roughly, desperately trying to feel every part of him.
Her eyes were forced open as Bucky suddenly stopped all of his movements, a look of panic washing over her face as Bucky looked down at her breathlessly. He slid his hand between her body at the mattress, supporting her back as he moved to sit back on his knees, lifting her up to keep her against his chest, his cock still deeply buried inside of her.
Y/N let out a moan at the pleasure of the new angle, clinging tightly to his body as her wetness dripped down onto his balls. Bucky pressed his lips against hers, slowly thrusting up into her as he fucked her deeper in the new position. Soft grunts left Bucky’s lips as he felt her pussy twitching around him, her clit overstimulated from the way it was rubbing against his skin.
“Bucky,” Y/N whimpered his name as a warning, her fingers digging into his skin as she looks up at him helplessly, feeling her orgasm taking over. “Hold me,” She begged softly, her eyes glazing over as wave upon wave of pleasure crashed over her body. “I’m gunna cum.” She cried loudly as her head flew back, her lips parted as her moans flowed freely for him.
Her pussy fluttered around his cock as her tits bounced with each of his thrusts, his hands holding her hips tightly to fuck her down onto him.
Waves of pleasure hit her one after the other, his eyes glued to watching her face come undone as he guided her to ride him. She felt herself tighten around him, moments away from her peak as Bucky lost control, jolting his hips erratically inside of her.
Y/N cried out in pleasure as her orgasm took over her body, her tight pussy pulsating on him as she rode out her mind blowing high. She kissed him deeply, their tongues fighting for dominance as Bucky held her in place as he fucked her through her orgasm. Bucky’s face fell into her neck with a loud moan, the feeling of her pussy throbbing around his cock proving too good as he felt his warm cum spurting deep inside of her. She sighed in relief as Bucky grunted, satisfied with the loaded waves of his cum that was filling her hole.
He dropped her back onto the bed, collapsing on top of her, both of them an exhausted, fucked out mess. Bucky moaned at the euphoric feeling, keeping her close as he spun them over so that his back was lying on the mattress with her on his chest.
She turned her head to face him as they both tried to catch their breaths, smiling sweetly as she kissed his swollen lips. She cupped his sharp jaw, pecking his lips over and over, his dick still buried deep inside of her sensitive pussy.
“Was that all this was?” She whispered after a moment of silence, her fingers tracing the metal infused skin of his shoulder as she pressed her lips to his once more. “Just part of your therapeutic methods of making amends?”
Bucky’s heart ached at the thought of her thinking he’d just used her like that, he hated himself for ever making her think he was capable of such a thing. “No. That’s not all it was.” Bucky mumbled against her lips as he sighed sadly, his eyes softening as he cupped her jaw. “I love you, Y/N.” Bucky whispered shakily with a hopeful smile, his words causing her to freeze. She’d never expected to hear him say that, not even after what they just did. “I always have and I always will.” His thumb rubbed soothingly over her cheek, taking the time to admire her beauty.
“I love you too.” She admitted vulnerably, swallowing the lump in her throat she hadn’t even known was there. She didn’t know why he’d left her, she didn’t know why he’d been so hard to forget. She didn’t know why he’d waited all this time to come back, she didn’t know if he was telling the truth or feeding her lies. In a world of disaster and uncertainty all she did know was that she loved him.
“I just have one question, Bucky.” She spoke with a curious tone, shuffling to rest her head on his chest as her fingers traced over his metal shoulder, admiring the intricate beauty. “How did you know which room was my bedroom?”
Bucky’s heart sunk into his stomach, a shy blush of pink hitting his cheeks as he gave her a guilty smile. Y/N couldn’t help but watch with amusement, his shy side was rare to see, and something that she never took for granted. “I may have stopped by your house once or twice before, just to make sure you were safe.”
@harrysthiccthighss @annestine @bestofbucky @velvetcardiganbucky @sexwithhiddlesbatch @be-patient-be-good @codyl-angdon @marveljunkieee @melchills-j @krislhurt @patzammit
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Okay, so I love the sexy Zemo/Reader stuff but I’m also a sucker for fluff, so...
Zemo seeing that you’re shivering, so he silently removes his coat and drapes it over your shoulders.
Zemo protecting you, shielding you with his body when a situation begins to go south.
You resting your head on Zemo’s shoulder or lap while he’s reading, and after a few moments he starts to stroke your hair softly.
Zemo caring for you when you get injured, ensuring that you get absolutely everything you need to have a full recovery. He’s constantly fretting because he doesn’t want to lose you like he’s lost everyone else (he’s also definitely plotting his revenge against the person that hurt you, but anyway).
Visiting the Sokovian memorial with Zemo. He recounts the story of his wife, son, and father’s deaths to you, and you hold him tightly as he cries at the memory.
Zemo smiling at you fondly when you attempt to speak to him in his native language and you mix up some of the words.
The unexpectedly nervous expression on his usually confident face when Zemo tells you that he loves you for the first time.
Trying not to laugh as he dances like an absolute dork.
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Kiss Me More (Part II) - Zemo/Reader
Masterlist || Part One
Summary: Part two, read part one if you haven’t already! Sam & Bucky put reader in charge of looking after Zemo....again. Series loosely inspired by this song.
Warnings: Kissing, heavy petting, mentions of sex, minor TFATWS spoilers.
A/N: Wow! I was so shocked on the feedback I got on the first part of this story. It has nearly 800 notes. I’m not used to my writing getting that kind of attention so I really appreciate the love. I decided to make this into at least a 3-4 part series and there will be eventual smut, but I feel like there’s something sweet between these two that goes beyond an obvious physical attraction, so I do want to build that a bit before we get there. This weekend I rewatched TFATWS & Civil War because I’m officially obsessed with Zemo lol. Please let me know what you think, and let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist. :)
“Keep an eye on him.”
Y/N watched Bucky and Sam split off again. That was now at least the third time she’d heard that phrase since she arrived in Riga. Little did they know, she was probably the worst person to be put in charge of Zemo. Truthfully, it was starting to be a little insulting.
It was unclear why she’d been brought along on this mission, when half the time Sam and Bucky were talking in hushed tones just out of her earshot. There was always more to the story than they told her, but this time, it felt like she was more out of the loop than ever.
She adjusted the neckline of the sweater she wore out of an abundance of caution, checking subconsciously to make sure it hadn’t exposed the mark Zemo had left on her from the day before. It was a discovery she’d made that morning, and persisted despite her efforts to cover it up with makeup.
“According to those two, I must be the best at babysitting you,” she muttered under her breath. It was petty, so she wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to hear. But he did.
“Babysitting?” Zemo lifted an eyebrow.
“You know, a nanny, a governess….whatever a Baron’s equivalent is,” she said, looking him in the eye for the first time that day, which was a mistake. He looked so handsome in that long, fur-lined coat, tall and refined, hair styled perfectly. There had to be warrants out for his arrest since escaping prison, and in his current getup, he was hard to miss.
It wasn’t easy to ignore the stifling tension between them. The Baron hadn’t left her thoughts since she’d closed the door on him the evening before. Now they were alone again. She couldn’t decide if that was thrilling or terrifying, so she decided on both.
“It’s nice of them to give us some alone time,” Zemo stepped close to her, one gloved hand pressing between her shoulder blades. Despite the cool temperature outside, it was the first thing today that had her shivering.
“Walk with me,” he commanded sternly. She saw no opportunity to refuse as they started in the direction opposite of where Bucky and Sam had disappeared.
“Helmut,” he corrected her. “But go on…”
“We have to focus on figuring out where Donya’s funeral will be,” she said, feeling his hand slide down to settle on the small of her back, trying to inch away, but he just pulled her closer. “We can’t waste time.”
“I know Riga inside and out, that won’t be as difficult as you and your friends think,” he murmured. His proximity was already suffocating. Or maybe comforting. It was hard to tell. “Tell me, what is your business with them? You aren’t an Avenger. This was my first time hearing your name.”
She snorted, finally finding the strength to pull away, and he dropped his hand. That was one thing that had confounded her. He was confident, took liberties with what others would allow, but knew when to stop pushing. There was something alluring to his nature.
“I’m not,” she responded, wondering how much she was willing to share. When she stole a glance out of the corner of her eyes, his head was lowered, leaning in, listening intently for her response. She wondered if he really cared, or if he was good at pretending. It was easy to believe that he did.
“Bucky and I aren’t that different,” she continued. “That’s why we’re friends. I’m not a super soldier, but I was taught how to fight, how to kill. I followed orders for too long without questioning whether or not I was doing the right thing. And at least now, I think I am.”
“You think,” he repeated, and corrected her again like he had the day before. As much as she wanted some kind of clever or quick quip back, she wore her heart on her sleeve for the moment and shrugged. There was nothing to defend when she still wasn’t sure what responsibilities she had in this world.
Zemo halted, and she paused too, turning back to look at him. “So you were an assassin,” he murmured, reaching out. Nodding slightly, she lowered her eyes when his gloved thumb brushed across her face. The buttery, overpowering smell of leather took her over as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I would’ve never guessed. Du bist so süß.”
Her knowledge of German was limited, but she could see a flash of what looked like affection in his eyes. He couldn’t be lying, could he? She wondered. She wanted to trust that he wasn’t, wanted to identify every good part of him she could, so she could justify the overwhelming attraction she felt towards him. Something in her just kept pulling forward against her will, like a magnet.
“You’d be surprised,” she answered, but didn’t pull away. The intensity of his gaze made her feel weak, but there was something strangely reassuring in his eyes. It was just the two of them, standing on a crowded sidewalk.
She rose her hand to clasp around his, frowning when she felt the hard loop of a ring on one of his gloved fingers. It had gone unnoticed by her, until now. He still wore a wedding band.
It would have been easy to vocalize the observation, gauge his reaction, try to regain some upper hand and remind him who exactly he was dealing with. But, it would’ve been pointlessly cruel, as she knew what that felt like to answer that question. Those days were behind her, now.
As if the universe was scolding her, a loud car horn broke through the perceived silence. His hand dropped from her face, and they began to walk again.
“I had lots of time to think in prison,” he said after a heady pause in conversation. “About the things I’d done. Whatever intentions you have, to someone, you’re always the enemy. What I thought was important, trying to serve the greater good, it isn’t always worth the trouble. I was trying to protect what I had already lost, the places and people I’d taken for granted.”
Deciphering his words, she took a moment before responding. “That’s actually...very insightful,” she said, partly surprised by what he’d shared, appreciating that he felt her vulnerability, and matched it in his response.
“I know you’re stunned I’m not a brute,” he answered, increasing his pace to a determined strut rather than a lazy stroll. She was forced to keep up with him. “You’ve been told what to think about me by Sam and Bucky.”
She scoffed. “Not just them. The entire world. All the people you’ve hur-”
He halted and turned to face her so quickly, she collided with his chest and her breath caught in her throat.
“I’m not that man anymore,” his voice was nearly a growl, disgust laced in his features as he looked down at her.
But as soon as she recognized it, he became expressionless again, backing away. Falling back into step beside him, they continued to walk, a bit faster than they had been before. She followed him, at this point convinced that she might get lost without his guidance, but a little startled by his sudden change in behavior.
“What do you think of Riga?” he asked her as they cut through an alleyway. His voice held none of the venom that it had a few moments ago, so she wondered if she’d just hit a sore nerve.
“It’s beautiful,” she answered, admiring the old brick buildings and fine architecture. “But I think I haven’t had much of a chance to appreciate it.”
“Have you been thinking about me?”
They ducked under an alcove, and she realized he’d carefully led her off the crowded streets. It was much quieter here. She suddenly didn’t feel as protected as she had been with him in the open. The temperature in the shaded space was much lower than expected. And he was standing over her, waiting for some response she didn’t know if she could give.
“I haven’t forgotten about last night, liebling,” he continued.
Of course she had been thinking of him. Nearly nonstop. What they’d shared, what it meant. She hadn’t been able to sleep until she relieved herself, fingers rubbing her clit and delving into her warmth, whimpering his name when she finally came. Still, it had done little to quell the ache inside her.
It was a horrible thing, she’d decided. Objectively horrible, and unprofessional. There was the consideration of accessibility. What did he see in her beyond a means to an end? Was she really going to throw everything she’d worked for away to a man who was going to use her to scratch an itch?
Too much was at stake, Sam and Bucky’s trust, her reputation, her job, and she couldn’t allow it to go on.
But oh, how much she wanted it to.
“Yesterday was nice,” she straightened up, holding her own. “I won’t lie to you.”
The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly in a self-satisfied smirk.
“But I’m not foolish,” she continued. “Coming on to the first woman you see after you get out of jail? Seems pretty convenient.”
At first, the Baron tilted his head to the side, his brows pulled together at her words. But after a moment, the smile returned, and he chuckled. “Is that what you think this is about?”
“Don’t insult me, Helmut,” she said sternly, trying her best not to feel embarrassed. She was only being honest.
“Are you always so severe to yourself?” he asked, tutting lightly.
It would have been better to say nothing. Why give him anything at all?
She didn’t answer his question, just backed away from him and began walking in no particular direction, wanting only to increase the space between them and regain her common sense. That was impossible however, as she was jolted backwards before she even knew what was happening, a firm hand on her upper arm, and she was chest to chest with Zemo once more.
“We were in Madripoor together. I could’ve had my way with many women there if I wanted. But I didn’t.”
“Please-” she rolled her eyes.
“If all I wanted to do was fuck someone, I could have done it by now,” he stalked forward, the air pressure around them dropping, weighed by the tension hanging thick between them. “But that’s not what I want. I want you.”
His words, spoken in a soft, low purr rattled away every bit of resolve she had left in her. Some last ditch effort found her stepping backwards, but her body met the brick wall behind them and she realized he had her cornered.
In more ways than one, she thought.
Taking in a shaky breath, she looked up at his eyes, clouded with lust. “I know you want me,” he said, not a shred of doubt in his voice. But why should there have been? He was right.
Her eyes darted around, like someone or something around them was going to jump out and save her from herself. It didn’t go unnoticed. “There’s no need to be scared, liebling. I feel it, too.”
With that, he closed the gap between their lips. He tasted sweet, like the candies he’d been eating back at his flat. Turkish delight. She was drowning in him again, his scent, his touch, everything about him enveloped and beguiled her. Her shirt had bunched up slightly somewhere along their walk and his gloved hands explored the exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
She surrendered, letting him tease open her mouth and claim her wholly. It was still bad, she knew. But there wasn’t any last bit of self-control left in her.
The layers of clothing between them didn’t allow for the same proximity she’d had to him the evening before. Groaning in delight and frustration, she reached up to tangle and rake her fingers through his hair, as his fingers curled around the top of her sweater, revealing the sensitive skin of her neck.
“Don’t hide this,” his lips left hers as his eyes focused on the stamp of affection he’d left behind the day before. “Let them see.”
“You know I can’t,” she responded, sheepishly pulling it back into place. Studying her with amiable consideration, his hand rose to brush tenderly across her cheekbone.
“I thought you’d come to me last night,” she confessed, drawing away slightly, shocked by her own admission. But right now, she didn’t feel the need to put up as much of a facade. He looked positively virile; panting, his cheeks flushed and hair mussed, pupils blown out as he focused on her. To know she was the cause of his current state of disarray gave her an immense amount of satisfaction. A buried, salacious part of her wondered what else she could do to make him look even more unkempt.
“I considered it,” he said, sounding almost timid. “But I want to do this right.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss beneath her ear. “In private, so no one can disturb us,” he continued, lips moving down her neck. “We can take our time, you can be as loud as you’d like.”
The mental image he was currently painting for her was doing very little to strengthen her convictions, whatever those had been. The thought of her legs wrapped around his torso, naked bodies pressed together sent a bolt of electricity through the pit of her stomach, radiating outwards. She wanted his lips on every inch of her skin. Aching at the possibility, the present tease of his teeth nibbling on her collarbone wasn’t helping.
“You know we can’t,” she didn’t try to stop the thought as it came out of her mouth.
“What is there to lose?”
Everything, she thought, but didn’t answer. She couldn’t really, as his gloved hand was trailing slowly under her jacket and sweater, against her bare skin, and cupping her breast through her bra. Whimpering, she couldn’t control the way her body arched against his.
Hooking her knee on his hip, she let him press forward, feeling the warmth of his excitement through his trousers and her jeans. He ground against her once, teasingly, and she moaned softly into his mouth.
He was the one to pull away, and she was thankful he did. “Think about it, liebling,” he said softly, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. “Du hast die Kontrolle.”
“We can’t,” she answered again, but even she didn’t believe herself. Raking her hands through her hair and adjusting her rumpled sweater, she straightened up. “We have a job to do.”
Brushing past him out of the alcove, each step she took away from him gave her the self control she desperately needed. She glanced over her shoulder to see him reluctantly trudging behind. At this point, she wasn’t foolish. There were only two ways this could end.
Series Taglist: @juice-1981 @sapphiredreamer26 @tatooineisdry @marvelsvision @spookycereal-s @trelaney @fireghost-x @booksarekindaneat @thunderingbats @felicityofbakerstreet @takacsgram @mischiefmanaged71 @fanfictionedagain
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Requested by: MEEE cause this plot popped into my head the second I watched this episode
Summary: Bucky was just following Sharon’s advice to enjoy the party when he meets *yn*, what he isn’t counting on is that he most definitely won’t be staying out of trouble.
Warnings: THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER EP 3 SPOILERS YOU’VE BEEN WARNEDDDDD, fluff, swearing, violence
PART TWO (NAGEL)
“Lay low, blend in. Enjoy the party.” Sharon spoke as she made her way up the stairs. “Oh and try to stay out of trouble, I’ll see what I can find.”
“Trouble?” Zemo smirked.
Sharon’s words echoed in Bucky’s ears as he made his way through the party. Sweaty bodies were pressed up against him as he ducked and weaved through the crowd. It felt like the pulsating music was drumming against his skull as he made his way up to the bar.
“I’m way too old for this.” He huffed out once he reached Sam, gesturing to the bartender for two shots.
“Old or lame? There’s a big difference.” Sam remarked as the pair simultaneously clinked their glasses together and skulled the liquid. Bucky smirked as he watched Sam cough and splutter.
“Now who’s the lame one?” Bucky chuckled, the liquid burning his throat.
“Maybe we both are. Look at Zemo, the dude may be weird but he’s got game.” Sam answered once he’d recovered.
Bucky followed his gaze to see Zemo dancing in between two women, both giggling and chatting animately. He watched as Zemo suddenly began pumping his arm enthusiastically to the beat as the girls watched him wide eyed, before exchanging glancing and slipping back into the crowd without another word.
“On second thought dude’s just weird.”
Bucky let out a chuckle as he leant forward and grabbed the beer that the bartender had left out for him. He took a swig as he turned back around to face the party. He automatically swept over area, his eyes sliding over the hundreds of faces as he looked out for any threat.
He paused as his eyes fell on a flash of bright red material.
Upon closer inspection he noted that the bright red material was in fact a silk dress that was covering the slender figure of a young woman. It was a halter dress that had a deep slit down the front and was almost completely backless, the silk material falling down almost to her ankles with another deep slit also running up her leg that exposed her thigh.
He felt his grip on his beer tighten as his eyes fell on her face, revealing a pair of eyes framed by thick lashes and lips painted with a deep plum lipstick. She was snaking her way through the crowd, gracefully dodging drunken people as they stumbled their way around on the dance floor.
As if she sensed his gaze her eyes flickered up and locked with his. The pair eyed each other for a few moments. She shot him a small smile before breaking their gaze.
“Now who would you be checking out hm?” Sam’s voice broke Bucky out of his almost trance like state.
“No one.” Bucky answered gruffly, glancing over at Sam to see him smirking at him.
Bucky ignored him and turned his head back to where the woman had been only moments ago. She was gone. He scanned the crowd and let out a small huff when he couldn’t see any sight of her.
“Now, I need you to educate me on this art so I can impress some of the ladies.” Sam spoke up again, dragging Bucky’s attention from the crowd.
“What’s that one?” He asked pointing at a nearby painting.
“That’s the Wedding at Cana, painted by Paolo Veronese in 1563.”
Bucky swivelled around, a breath catching in his throat when his eyes fell on the bright red dress. He had no idea how she’d managed to somehow appear beside him without him noticing. He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair as he composed himself before answering, ensuring his face stayed void of emotion.
“I’m pretty sure it’s 1563 actually.”
His answer made her brow quirk up in amusement as she took a sip of her drink, her wrist twinkling due to a very expensive looking diamond bracelet dangling from it.
“Actually I think you’ll find it’s 1562. The copy in the Louvre might say 1563 but I suggest you take a peak at the original.” Her words made his eyes narrow as he studied her features.
“Well maybe I will.”
“Before you do that please feel free to continue educating your friend, I’m happy to sit here and correct you when you make another mistake.” She spoke, shooting him an overly warm smile which caused Bucky to grit his teeth.
Sam let out a low whistle as the smirk on her lips widened. “Damn Buck I think you might’ve met someone more cultured than you.”
“We’ll see about that.” Bucky muttered, taking a swig of his beer as he eyed her.
“So how does someone like yourself become so knowledgable about stolen art?” Sam asked her, his eyes darting between the pair in amusement.
The girl shrugged as she took another sip of her drink before motioning to the bartender. “I know a lot about a lot of things.”
“Really?” Bucky mused, this time it being his turn to raise a brow. “And does ‘miss knower of all things’ have a name?”
“Miss knower of all things does.” She answered as she grabbed the shot glass and pressed it to her lips. Bucky eyed her profile intently, noting the way her plump lips wrapped around the lip of the glass and her eyes screwed shut as she slung her head back to let the liquid slide down her throat.
“I love this song.” She remarked, finishing the remainder of her other drink before she rose from her seat. Bucky’s eyes followed her figure as she begun to make her way back to the dance floor. She paused and glanced over her shoulder, a smirk still present on her lips.
“You coming to dance with me or what Buck?” She queried, Sam’s nickname for him rolling off her tongue, amusement evident in her tone.
Bucky eyed her for a few moments before glancing over at Sam. “Sharon did say to enjoy the party.” Sam grinned.
“Try not to be too lame or old huh?” He continued, patting his shoulder encouragingly as Bucky rose from his chair.
“Thanks.” Bucky muttered as he cautiously approached the woman in red. Her smirk widened as he made his way towards her. “C’mon.” He heard her say as she leant forward and took his gloved hand in hers and tugged him into the crowd.
If she was saying anything to him, he couldn’t hear as he felt himself become engulfed in the crowd as she pulled him deeper into the dance floor. After a few moments she came to a stop and swivelled around to face him. He felt himself grow slightly red as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, swaying her hips to the beat.
“Are you really not going to tell me your name?” Bucky spoke, practically shouting to make himself heard over the thumping base.
“Why do you want to know? You never danced with a stranger before?” She answered back.
“No I just- I usually know people’s names before I dance with them.” He replied which caused her to let out a small laugh. “Back in my day we used to go out to dinner first.” He added silently in his head.
His heart thumped against his chest as she pulled him closer to her and leant up so her lips brushed against the shell of his ear. “My name’s *yn*.”
“*yn*.” Bucky echoed, her smile widening at the sound of her name rolling off his tongue. “And what brings you to a place like Madripoor?”
“You ask a lot of questions.” She observed matter-of-factly.
Before Bucky could open his mouth to respond, *yn* twisted around, keeping one arm slung around his neck as she pressed her back up against his body. Bucky bit his lip to prevent a hiss from escaping his mouth as *yn* began to rotate her hips to the rhythm of the music, the fabric of her dress pressing against the material of his black suit pants.
This certainly beat online dating.
“Just relax, enjoy the party.” *yn* laughed breathlessly, echoing Sam’s words from before as she pressed even harder against him. Bucky let his eyes flutter shut as he felt his hands automatically move to grip her hips as he started to move his own body in time with the thumping bass.
His grip on her hips tightened as she lolled her head back against his chest, her hot breath fanning onto his neck as the pair moved in sync.
If only Steve could see him now.
As he grew more comfortable he let his gloved hands begin to wander, trailing over her lower stomach before gliding down her thighs. “What do you say we go find somewhere quieter to talk?” He heard *yn* murmur into his ear.
He felt *yn*’s body stiffen as his hands crept lower to just below her panty line. Before he could answer, her hand suddenly shot out to grip his wrist and cease his movements but not before his hand suddenly brushed over an unexpected bump on her leg.
A shape that felt suspiciously like a-
A hand suddenly clamped onto his shoulder causing him to jerk his hands away in surprise just as *yn* pulled away from his grasp. “I’m sorry to break up the party but Sharon’s found our guy-” Sam cut himself off as Bucky swivelled around to stare at him, his eyes wide in surprise.
“You good man?” Sam asked, concern written on his features when he noticed Bucky’s look of surprise.
“I-” Bucky cut himself off before looking back to *yn*.
His brow furrowed as his eyes instead fell on a drunk man currently sculling a beer out of a shoe. He frantically looked around, muttering a curse under his breath when he realised *yn* was no where to be seen.
It was like she had vanished without a trace.
“Oh painting girl pulled a runner? Don’t worry about it man happens to the best of us.” Sam comforted, patting his shoulder once more.
Bucky felt a ripple of suspicion wash over him but he decided against telling Sam about it as he finally pulled his gaze away from the crowd to look at Sam. “Let’s get Zemo. We should talk somewhere private.”
“Alright what have you found?” Sam asked. Zemo, Bucky, Sharon and Sam were all piled into a private coat room located directly above the party. The bass was still so loud that Bucky could feel the vibrations through the tiled floor. The door was locked with a few security guards located outside and on the stairs leading up to the room.
Bucky sighed, his mind swimming with thoughts of *yn* as he ripped his gloves off. He couldn’t shake a feeling of suspicious that was gnawing at him that there was something off about *yn*.
“I’ve spoken to a few buyers and I’ve got a location on Doctor Nagel.” Sharon spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “He was pretty hard to track down but he’s definitely still here in Madripoor. He’s at the shipping yard.”
Bucky stiffened when he swore he head a thump outside the door, a thump that didn’t correlate with the sound from the party. He strained his ears and sure enough, another thump followed suit a few minutes lately.
“You sure no one can get up here?” Bucky queried, looking over to Sharon.
“I’m sure. This is a restricted area, I’ve got all the entrances guarded.” She answered, watching him as he made his way to the door.
“Bucky? What’s going on?” Sam asked.
Bucky held his hand up to signal everyone to be quiet as he pressed his ear against the wood. He held his breath as he listened intently. There were a few moments of quiet until he head another thump and a small moan.
Without warning Bucky ripped open the door and stepped out into the hallway. He nearly tripped over when his foot hit a solid form. He glanced down to see one of the guards lying at his feet, letting out low moans of pain. His eyes travelled down the hall to see all of the guards were either unconscious or were too dazed to get to their feet.
He froze when his eyes fell on an all too familiar red dress.
Bucky locked eyes with *yn*, her lips parted in surprise and chest heaving up and down as she tried to regain her breath. The pair stood frozen for what felt like an eternity, the silence almost deafening as they eyed each other.
“Bucky!” Sam called out, shattering the silence.
Bucky was only distracted for a split second but *yn* took it, turning around and sprinting down the stairs. “Hey!” Bucky shouted, taking off after her ignoring Sam’s shouts from behind him.
Bucky leapt down the winding stairs, catching brief glimpses of the red material before it disappeared around the next corner. Finally his feet planted on the lower floor. His eyes scanned the crowd, locking onto *yn*’s figure as she pushed through the crowd.
His jaw locked and he could feel himself enter into winter soldier mode as he stormed forward and plunged into the throng of people. He ignored protests and exclamations of surprise as he shoved people out of the way, parting them like the red sea as he kept his eyes focused on her like a laser beam.
*yn* glanced over her shoulder and the pair briefly locked eyes before she turned around once more and broke out of the crowd, sprinting towards a door with a neon exit sign hanging above it.
Bucky was hot on her heels, shoving the door open revealing another set of stairs. He hurried up the stairs and got to a landing revealing two doors. He noted that the left door was slightly ajar and he pushed through it revealing a large hall.
He sprinted into the centre of it, coming to a stop when he saw no sight of *yn*. He did a 360 of the room, craning his neck to look around. The room was empty except for a few large wooden boxes covered in tarps. Clearly this was where Sharon kept the less impressive stolen art.
“Come on.” Bucky muttered under his breath as he looked around. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop but his senses were telling him that he wasn’t alone in this room.
*yn* was here, if that was even her name.
He let out a grunt of surprise as a sold object hit his back, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He could feel limbs wrapping around his neck and his torso as slender arms pulled his neck into a headlock. He let another grunt as he brought his hands up to grip onto the arm that was around his throat.
He furrowed his brow in surprise when he pulled at the arms and found them unbudging. He tried once more, mustering all the strength he had but *yn*’s grip remained unmoving. He gritted his teeth and took a couple steps before shoving his back into one of the wooden crates.
He heard *yn* let out a small moan of pain as her body smacked against the solid mass with full force. Sure enough, her grip loosened slightly which allowed Bucky to pull her arm from his neck and throw her body over his head and off him.
She twisted her body in the air so that she landed in a crouched position but still on her feet. Bucky watched her as she rose to her full height, her body slightly gleaming with sweat under the sterile light. She took a few steps back from him and leant down to spread apart her dress, revealing a black thigh garter.
Just as Bucky had suspected on the dance floor, sheathed inside the thigh garter was a small blade. He watched as she pulled it from her thigh, gripping it tightly in her hand.
“You picked the wrong dress tonight doll.” Bucky tutted as he took a few steps towards her.
“You don’t like it? I’m hurt.” *yn* pouted, placing a hand over her heart mockingly.
“Trust me doll, I like it.” Bucky answered, letting his eyes briefly dart from the dagger in her hand to her dress. “But it’s not exactly the best dress for blending in and slipping away unnoticed.”
“Who ever said I wanted to slip away unnoticed?” *yn* answered, a mischievous glint in her eye as the pair began to slowly circle each other. Her words made his forehead crease in confusion as he studied her intently.
“So you know who I am?”
“I do.” *yn* nodded as she twisted the knife in between her fingers. “The зимний солдат.”
Her answer made Bucky’s lips part slightly in surprise. “That is what they call you, isn’t it?” She mused.
“Who are you?” Bucky snapped causing her to smirk to widen.
“What were those magic words again, Желание, Ржавый, Семнадцать-”
Bucky suddenly lurched forward, taking *yn* by surprise. She reacted instinctively, bringing the blade up from her side towards his stomach. Bucky gripped her wrist using his right arm, stopping the knife only inches from his flesh. He pulled her closer to him and raised his metal arm to strike her. With lightning fast reflexes her other arm shot up and her hand enclosed around his fist.
He glanced up at her in surprise when she pushed against his metal arm, stopping his fist from colliding with her jaw. He grunted as he mustered up more strength in an attempt to break out of her grasp to no avail. They were evenly matched in strength.
He had no idea who she was but now he was certain of one thing. They both had super soldier serum running through their veins.
*yn* took advantage of Bucky’s surprise and lifted a leg up, kicking him squarely in the stomach, her stiletto heel digging into his skin. Bucky spluttered as he felt the wind get knocked out of him, loosening his grip on her arms. *yn* reacted quickly, knocking his feet from underneath him and jumping on top of him.
Bucky groaned as his back hit the concrete floor and *yn* straddled him, pinning both of his arms above his head with one hand and pressing her dagger to his throat with the other.
“I think I liked you better when I was showing you up in front of your friend.” She remarked as she pressed the blade firmly against his skin.
“And I think I liked you better when you were dancing on me and not trying to kill me.” Bucky spat back as he squirmed underneath her causing *yn* to cock her head to the side, an amused expression on her features.
“Now whoever said I wanted to kill you?”
“Hmm I don’t know, could be the knife you’ve got against my throat.” He growled, wincing as the metal dug even further into his flesh. *yn* let out a breathy laugh as she leant down towards his face.
“Trust me pretty boy, if I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.”
The sound of footsteps approaching and Sam calling Bucky’s name made both their heads jerk towards the door before Bucky could answer her. This time it was Bucky’s turn to take advantage of *yn* being caught off guard. He managed to wriggle his metal arm out of her iron like grip and instantly lurched up to grab her around the throat.
*yn* spluttered in surprise, instinctively dropping her dagger to use both her hands to struggle against his vice like grip. Bucky used all of his core strength to push her off him and roll himself on top of her. Now he was so close up to her and under bright light, he could see that her skin was littered with small scars and bullet holes.
*yn*’s face was slowly growing red as she desperately gasped for air, her body squirming underneath him as she clawed at his metal arm. “I’m not going to ask you again, who the hell are you?” Bucky spat, glaring down at her as he desperately searched her eyes for some sort of answer.
“I don’t-” She spluttered, “I didn’t come here to hurt you, please-” She continued, her voice barely a whisper as her airway grew more restricted. For the first time since Bucky had locked eyes with her, he could see some form of fear and desperation reflecting back at him. The pair eyed each other for a few moments before Bucky slowly eased his grip around her throat, just enough for her to regain some air. *yn* gasped at the feeling of oxygen entering her lungs once more.
“Woah, what the fuck-”
Bucky looked up to see Sam, Sharon and Zemo staring at the pair with wide eyes, all three of them with their weapons raised.
“What part of stay out of trouble did you not understand?” Sharon queried, an exacerbated expression on her features.
“Trouble found me.” Bucky answered gruffly as he looked back down at *yn*. The fear that had been present on her features only moments ago had vanished, the cocky and flirtatious mask had been slipped back on.
“Not that I really mind this position, but given that the cavalry’s arrived, do you mind getting off me?” *yn* asked Bucky coolly.
Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line, clearly unamused at her remark as he studied her. “You’re not going to try and kill me again?”
“I already told you, I don’t want to kill you.” *yn* huffed, rolling her eyes.
Bucky studied her for a few moments before finally relenting and releasing her throat from his grip. He pushed himself off her and rose to his feet but not before grabbing her dagger and sliding it into his suit pants.
*yn* got herself up from the ground, her breathing still ragged as she ran a hand through her hair and tucked her strays behind her ears.
“You wanna tell us who this is Bucky?” Sharon asked, eyeing *yn* up and down.
“Supposedly her name is *yn*-”
“-not supposedly, it is *yn*.”
“-she seems to like not answering questions about herself.” Bucky ignored *yn*’s input. “Oh and she’s had the super soldier serum.”
“Might want to keep an eye on your friend over there, I know he’s in the habit of murdering anyone who’s come within walking distance of the stuff.” *yn* remarked dryly shooting Zemo a dirty look.
“Hello to you too darling.” Zemo grinned causing Sharon to roll her eyes.
“Who are you? Who the hell do you work for?” Sharon quizzed her.
“I don’t work for anyone.” *yn* snapped back.
“The flag smashers?” Sam asked causing *yn*’s face to contort into a look of disgust. “Fuck no, I don’t work with those amateurs.”
“Just tell us what you want or I’m going to have to detain you.” Sharon spoke. There was a brief pause as *yn* studied Sharon before looking over to Bucky.
“You’re not the only one looking for answers, зимний солдат.” She answered quietly, her features softening for a moment as she looked at him.
“Well then maybe we can help each other get answers then.” Bucky murmured back.
The pair studied each other for a few moments before a loud honk suddenly sounded outside. Gun shots rang out from underneath them followed by loud screams and shouts. Bucky, Zemo, Sam and Sharon looked around in confusion as the sound of hundreds of footsteps began to grew louder and louder.
“Sorry kids, that’s my ride. Gotta fly.”
Within a few seconds the door burst open and hundreds of party goers flooded the room, shouting for help as they fled from the gun fire. Bucky glanced over to where *yn* had been only a few seconds ago to see that she was sprinting towards the only window in the room.
Bucky pushed through the panicked crowd, watching helplessly as *yn* reached the raised window. She clambered up onto the ledge and shoved the window open. She glanced over her shoulder and the pair locked eyes when Bucky was practically within arms length of her.
“I’ll be sure to send Doctor Nagel your regards, Buck.” She taunted. “We should do this again sometime, maybe without trying to hurt each other.” She smirked, sending him a wink before leaping off the ledge. Bucky scrambled up onto the ledge and poked his head out to see *yn* sliding down a pipe fixed to the outside of the building.
He watched helplessly as her stilettos hit the ground. She approached a waiting motorcycle, the driver holding out a helmet for her expectantly. She took the helmet and slung her leg over the seat, sliding her helmet on as the driver throttled the engine. She looked up to the window and gave Bucky a wave before wrapping her arms around the driver’s waist.
“Fuck.” Bucky cursed as he watched the motorbike peel off into the bustling street, going completely unnoticed by the rest of the public amid the chaos.
“She’s gone?” Sam queried as the other three appeared beside Bucky at the window.
“Hm.” Bucky grunted, clenching his jaw in annoyance as he watched the motorbike disappear from sight.
“She was kind of terrifying.” Sam remarked matter of factly.
“I thought for sure she was going to gut you, James.” Zemo observed.
Bucky stayed silently, clearly brooding as he stared out into the street as Sam studied him in amusement.
“I think Bucky’s in love.”
PART TWO (NAGEL)
зимний солдат = winter soldier
Желание, Ржавый, Семнадцать = Longing, Rusted, Seventeen.
I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH!?!? As always feedback is appreciated!!!! Please give it back here xx
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summary: there are seven days in a week; somehow Sam makes them all memorable just by existing.
pairing: Sam Wilson x reader
word count: 4k
warnings: marriage, mentions of ptsd/survivors guilt/trauma (very light, barely a passing comment), smut (including: kitchen sex, cockwarming, bjs, mentions of breeding), mentions of food obviously considering the banner c:
note: i wrote this so feverishly idek what quality it is. i hope u enjoy it i love him and i want to be his wife enough said <3
Mondays are bleary. Rubbing sleep from your eyes and brushing sleep from your mouth and dusting sleep from your shoulders, stumbling about with your eyes half-open and your feet dragging against the floor.
The bed’s warm; he’s warmer. And since he’s already up and at it, the bed is considerably colder. That’s the only thing that tugs you from the sheets and into the shower.
Sam’s much better at mornings than you are. Shit, by the time you’re up, he’s already showered and gone over his day’s schedule and made breakfast — actual breakfast, not a protein bar and smoothie. He’s all laughs when you trudge on into the kitchen, damp microfibre towel pulled over hair and a scowl on your face.
“C’mere, baby,” he coos — spreads those irritatingly muscled arms wide for you to walk into. And walk into them you do, because even your fatigue-addled mind recognizes the instant dopamine shot to the brain that is one of Sam's hugs. “Look at your grumpy little face.”
"'m sleepy," you mumble, squishing your cheek against his chest, eyes fluttering shut and shoulders slumping. You're half-prepared to fall asleep right then and there, with your boyfriend's lips pressed against your temple and his cologne all fuzzy and warm in your nose—
"You gotta eat before I go,” you hear him say, shuffling back towards the table with you attached, “C’mon now.”
“But ‘m not hungry.”
“You’re eating breakfast whether or not you like it.” He’s got that cadence in his voice that says quite plainly that there’s no room for argument — even when he’s smiling all jovial and easy. When you lift your head off of his chest, pouting and half-lidded, he only pecks your cheek and sits down, pulling you onto his lap after.
Monday breakfasts are more Sam actually eating and you catching up on more sleep than anything else — he’ll hum a little and tap your elbow and you’ll open your mouth to a piece of syrupy fruit; you’ll press sleepy kisses to the crook of his neck while he answers work emails. He doesn’t complain about you curled up on his lap — save for a few joking, overdramatic groans when he has to bend even further forward to reach his coffee — doesn’t complain when, after breakfast is tidied up and he has to get suited up for work, you stay glued to him; doesn’t complain when he gets out the door ten minutes later than he’s supposed to because you wanted his cock in your mouth.
Tuesdays are the unofficial official Big Scary Mission Day. The scheduled ones, that is, because God knows the other six days are up for grabs too. Miscellaneous terrorist #106 isn't going to put his evil plans on hold because you want to have dinner with your boyfriend.
You know you have no cause to worry. Really, you don't. You've had the pleasure of seeing Sam zip through the skies, as meticulous and focused as one could ever hope to be — that natural elegance, that pure strength… it doesn't arise by luck, that's for sure. Every inch of him is honed by determination and power, and you know this, you know he's going to be fine. Him and Bucky both.
Still. Tuesday's see you glancing too often out of windows, anxiously cupping styrofoam cups of coffee, checking your phone for texts that don't come. You bury yourself in work, answering phone calls and filing reports and whatever the fuck it is you do — you’re too distracted to actually ingest or retain any information.
Often you find yourself fiddling with the ring on your finger; lament your lack of picture frame on your desk (something about it being too dangerous to have a picture of Captain America out in the open — point taken); listen to podcasts about everything and nothing at all; read the same line over and over again. It's what you imagine purgatory must feel like.
You drive home from work listening to the smooth, low croon of Motown. The sun burns marigold yellow in the early evening, shifting each shadow further, painting each shadow darker.
Still, your phone is empty.
The car is parked; your clothes are shed; a bath is run with too many bubbles and completely useless yet pretty bath glitter. Your effort to calm your frazzled nerves shows itself in lit candles dotted around the bathroom, the generic soothing playlist you found on Spotify, a glass (or two) of rosé. You tie your hair up and sink into the bath, phone always within reach, and close your eyes for a moment.
You’ve gone through this routine a thousand times and you’ll go through it a few thousand more, and in truth, you really should be more or less acclimated to the empty bed and empty office and empty house, the stillness of it all; no hearty laughs in the background or din of chatter as Sam takes his phone calls; no music when he suddenly decides he wants to make use of his record player.
And yet, you’re not. You simmer inside your bath for about an hour before your restlessness gets the better of you and forces you up and out, dressing quickly and making quick work of yesterday’s leftovers. You settle onto the couch, then, with your phone in hand and heart in your throat, where — hopefully — you’ll be distracted by K-dramas and reality TV until you tire yourself out.
It’s only when it’s nearing midnight and your eyes are drooping, yawns stretching your cheeks with almost every breath, that your phone lights up. You don’t even bother to pause whatever generic competition show you’d been watching: you lunge for your device, blanket tangled around your ankle, and:
Be back soon. Don’t wait up. Eat dinner. Love you.
Wednesdays, tending to be the day after missions, sees Sam safe and at home where you can make sure he wasn’t lying when he said the bruise on his ribs was fine. He's told to rest up with a pat on the shoulder and a reminder to submit his reports on time for the debrief on Thursday, but for 24 sweet, sweet hours, he is completely yours.
Well. If yours means working away in his office, sparing you a kiss and an I'll be in the study, okay? Don’t miss me too much after breakfast.
You don't bother pacing in front of his office door like you might've a few years ago, when your relationship was still new and gleaming and you were too shy to ask for anything other than the bare minimum (luckily, Sam refused to give anything even near the bare minimum, so you lucked out). Instead, you open the door with a smooth click and slip inside, shutting it equally as quietly.
He sits at his desk, face set in concentration — so handsome. Dark skin and darker brown eyes reflecting early afternoon soon, brows furrowed and jaw set in a way that makes him look… statue-like, almost. Like the perfect, all-American Captain America should be.
And you're allowed to say that, allowed to lean against the door and ogle him like this because you've got a ring on your finger and an extra last name that says you can. He doesn't mind, anyways; a minute or two into your unabashed staring, he huffs a laugh, shoulders shaking.
"You just gonna stand there?" Sam says, raising a brow. "I know what you want."
"Didn't want to distract you," you reply, all pouty and coy as if you both don't know exactly what you entered for. As if you haven’t done this multiple times before.--
"'m a natural born multi-tasker, I’ll have you know." As if to prove his point, his fingers tap steadily across his keyboard. His eyes don't lift from the screen.
Yes, Sam Wilson is a natural born multi-tasker — which is a relief for you, really, because when you wander on over to him with a sigh and climb into his lap and ask him real sweet if he’d let you warm his cock, he agrees readily. It’s no problem; he can still type, can still work, can take care of his baby at the same time. Three birds (?) with one stone, right?
“Keep still,” he warns you, wrapping his arms ‘round your waist so he can reach his keyboard. “I’ll be finished in a while.”
"Mmkay," you reply, already burying your nose into the crook of his neck. That’s fine by you. Sam’s warm and built terrifically for hugs and, well, having him stirring up your guts is doing enough for now to satiate the heat pulsing in your stomach. Besides, you’re well overdue for a nap, and so you close your eyes and slump against him, completely and utterly at peace.
You don’t recall falling asleep, just as anyone doesn’t — what you do know is you’re woken up a while later by a finger massaging your clit in slow, steady circles. With a shuddering gasp of something that probably meant to be Sam’s name, your head shoots up, hands clutching at his shoulders. “A-ah!”
“‘Bout time,” Sam jokes, and you realise his other hand is plastered over your ass, thumb petting back and forth as if to soothe you. “Y’ came already, y’know.”
Yes — yes, you can fucking tell. You don’t even have to reach a hand down to check. You’re all sticky around him, hot and sticky and so, so sensitive. You can’t even fight the urge to clench around him when he circles ‘round the sensitive bud another time, huffing a quiet little laugh to himself as you collapse forward once more. “F-fuck. Did — did’ya finish your — your report?”
“Mhm. Sent it off and all.”
“Good. Good, ha, that — that’s good.” Your mind spins. He looks so unaffected by it, so unbothered, looking up at you with that soft, smug grin on his face. As if you’re not sitting on his cock. As if he’s not rubbing your clit, making you tremble. Your mind is still addled with sleep — not to mention all dizzy with pleasure and warmth, with his large arms squeezing ‘round your waist and his hand practically burning itself into the flesh of your ass. “Sam...”
“You don’t even know what you’re asking for, baby.”
“I know.” You don’t mean for it to come out as whiny as it does, but it does. You flex your hips, chewing the inside of your cheek. Sam’s office chair is big and padded and sturdy, sure, but even this behemoth of a piece of furniture may not survive you rocking on top of it. “Just — just choose for me.”
Sam hums. His fingers don’t stop. “That so?”
“‘M still sleepy,” you add, frowning. You throw in an extra sniffle and a wobbling bottom lip for good measure — he can’t resist them. “C’mon, Sammy, don’t tease.”
“Alright, alright.” Slowly, the arm banded around your waist tightens; tightens, tightens, tightens, until you’re pressed fully against his chest. Almost exactly the same position as when you were sleeping, with your nose against his neck and your arms around his shoulders. You stutter out a moan when he begins to move his hips, all leisurely and relaxed, but unfalteringly, mind-numbingly deep. Pressing against that soft, spongy spot inside you that makes you whimper. “See how good I treat you?”
“Now—” Another breathy groan— “Isn’t the time for jokes, Sam.”
“You don’t think so?” Finally, his voice gives out — just the littlest bit, mind you, but it’s a break nonetheless. It filters through his chest as a deep, sonorous grunt, and his hips stammer along with his speech. “That’s fine, baby.”
You both cum with no trouble — that slow-building, soft-yet-intense kind of orgasm that leaves you both panting against each other, limp and slumped and uncomfortable sticky between your legs.
(Wednesday sex, in your personal opinion, is the best.)
Thursday comes with a call from Sarah, and from the looks of it, it’s not a good one.
Sam loves his sister — you do, too — but with the pressure of keeping the family business afloat, debt, bills, and mothering two young boys, there’s no doubt that it’s weighing on her.
It shows itself through a terse, tense few moments that result in the end of the entire conversation: Sam says something like“I could always come and help, y’know,” and the line goes quiet. Then, a short, barely-legible sentence that has his jaw clenching and his eyes dropping to his feet, and you just know—
He feels guilty for everything. Even things that aren’t his fault — especially things that aren’t his fault. Leaving his family to join the military, Riley’s death, the five years he’d been gone because of the Blip. He feels guilty about the bills she has to pay and the children she has to take care of by herself, he feels guilty about moving hours away for work, he feels guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty.
His time with the VA has taught him that, in reality, not everything is his fault — that some things are out of his control, up to chance. There’s not some greater power skillfully pulling any strings, no pre written script of life that connects him to every bad thing that’s ever happened. Still, it hurts more when it’s his own sister. Hurts more, you think, when he’s trying so hard to make amends for things that have nothing to do with him.
Sam sighs when the call has ended; lets the phone hang limply by his side, eyes closing tiredly. All you can do for now is watch carefully from your spot on the couch, tea cupped in your hands. He needs his space as much as he needs comfort. You’d always been so eager to crowd him when he got upset — it was what you usually wanted when you weren’t feeling the best — and sure, there were times he needed that. There were just as many times, though, when he needed a second to get his head on straight. To ground himself.
And you keep an eye on him, of course. Even as you wander over to the kitchen and put on the kettle again, prepare him some tea in the way you know he likes; you give him the room, in a sense, so he feels he has the space to examine and deal with his emotions freely, but you keep an ear open as he does. You listen to the steadily-steadying pace of his breath, the tired sigh he gives afterwards; and when he sets the phone at his side, only then do you come back out.
“Made you this,” you say softly, making sure to place his phone as far away as possible on the coffee table. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he breathes. His hand scratches at the stubble along his jaw, the other reaching for the steaming mug in front of him. “Thanks, baby.”
“No problem.” You continue watching as he takes the sip, his shoulders slumping, his back curling slightly into itself. “You wanna talk about it?”
“Nah.” Sam gives you a short, humourless smile. “‘s nothing you haven’t heard before.”
Tentatively, your hand smooths over the shoulder closest to you, smile of your own tugging at your lips. “You know I don’t mind hearing it again.”
“I know.” A short pause. A hesitant, pregnant pause in which he opens his mouth just slightly as if to say something — but then the moment passes, and his lips close once more. “I know.”
Thursdays aren’t perfect, not even close, but they’re something just as quiet and dear to you than any other day.
Friday comes as it always does, with a wave of relief and a yearning for the weekend. There’s a certain restlessness that comes with it, you’ve noticed, both in yourself and Sam; nails clicking and clicking and clicking over and over again against your keyboard, watching the hands on the clock take their sweet time to make a full revolution.
Sam’s just as bad. He’s got something work-related scheduled in one hour — 60 minutes, 3600 seconds — and his partner (“Colleague, actually—”) is waiting outside for him to go, and he’s been rotating between pacing up and down the house and—
“Five minutes.” Two pecks to your lips and one to your jaw, hands winding and snaking around to your front, tugging at your shirt, creeping beneath the hem and—
“Bucky is waiting outside,” you laugh, pushing Sam’s hands away for the nth time. “You’ll get some when you get home—”
“—maybe.” You level him with the best unamused stare you can conjure at the moment — which, admittedly, isn’t all that good when you were just giggling like a schoolgirl. “Mr. Wilson—”
He beams at you, a set of pearly whites. “Yes, Mrs. Wilson.”
He’s such a charmer. Such a charmer. He doesn’t even try, he just opens his mouth and speaks and it’s enough to have your will weakening and your knees knocking together. ‘Specially when he smiles like that and calls you Mrs. Wilson, all teasing, his voice a low croon — it’s enough to have you rolling your eyes, a front to hide how flustered you are.
You sling his coat over your arm and tug him by his wrist to the front door like he’s a petulant child — pull him in quickly for a sloppy kiss that leaves him dazed and grinning, before you haul open the door and greet a very moody looking James Barnes. He spares you a grimace of a smile, at least, but his real snort of a laugh comes when you throw Sam’s jacket over his shoulders and tell him to “get the hell outta here”.
“I’ll bring ‘im back safe, Mrs. Wilson,” he calls good-naturedly, patting your husband hard on the back as they make their way to the awaiting car. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
In truth, putting them both together just ensures that they totally, completely will do something stupid. It’s like they refuse to use any common sense in each other’s presence.
Still, you snicker. “You better, Barnes. Be careful, both of you!”
“Don’t worry, honey,” Sam calls, slamming the car door behind him. “We’re professionals!”
(On the way out, the bumper of the car smashes against the curb so hard it bounces.
Professionals, your ass.)
It’s Saturday, and Sam keeps sneaking glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. He’s on your right side, doing up the buttons of his button up, tie hanging undone around his neck — but his eyes keep snapping from the fabric in his hands to you, you with your brush in hand, sweeping highlighter across your cheekbones. Then it’s your mascara, then it’s your setting spray, and when you happen to peek over at him when you’re applying your lipgloss, you know exactly what’s on his mind, because he’s got his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Samuel Thomas Wilson,” you warn, setting the tube down. “We’ve got reservations.”
“I know, I know!” He exclaims. “I wasn’t doin’ nothin’.”
“Mhm.” You narrow your eyes, but back away nonetheless to where your earrings have been laid out. “Okay.”
In truth, you’re deliberately leading him into a trap. Of sorts. Saturday date nights are usually spent at home, cooking dinner together, listening to music — maybe ending with a bath and a few rounds of sex. Which is fine and all — great, even. The highlight of your week. But this Saturday, for whatever reason, sees you with dinner reservations at some fancy uptown joint, and so you’d broken out The Dress.
Dark, emerald green satin, with a v-neck and spaghetti straps. The type that clings to you in all the right places and hangs around your knees, sleek and slinky, always paired with something gold and minimal hanging from your ears and neck. Coincidentally, it’s also Sam’s favourite dress on you, which is why you’re wearing it, because you plan to be railed until you can’t see straight. After dinner, of course.
You return to Sam’s side to slide your earrings into place, and his eyes return to you as if magnetized. Your plan is working a little too well. You were at least aiming to eat before having your dress rucked up and yourself ravaged.
You’re clasping a thin, golden chain around your neck when his hands slip around your hips, his lips pressing against your shoulders from behind. Squeezing and massaging the flesh, smoothing over your stomach, drifting up to your waist and down again. He sighs against your shoulder; exhales so deeply and inhales so thoroughly you think he’s trying to commit the scent of your perfume to memory.
“H-hey, Sam,” you say, trying hard to steady your voice. “Remember — remember the res-reservations.”
“Could always order in,” he mumbles — fiddles with one of the straps, rubs over the goosebumps left in the wake of his fingers. “Get reservations for next week. Stay in.”
The strap slips down onto your bicep. The already-deep neckline plunges further, baring the swell of your tits to the air — Sam groans, large hand cupping one before you can argue, brushing a thumb over your nipple, and—
“Okay, okay,” you gasp out. “Takeout… takeout sounds good. Takeout sounds great.”
Sunday sees you bent over the kitchen counter, pancake batter (and your panties) forgotten somewhere to the side. Your right cheek has made good friends with the cold, smooth surface of the kitchen island; after all, it's one of Sammy's favourite places to—
"Fuck," you whine, stumbling unevenly on your tiptoes, corners and edges digging into your hips and tummy, “C’mon — right — right there… Ngh, Sammy—”
His hand lifts momentarily from your hip and you wait for it, you wait for the inevitable pressure, the impending smack against your ass — and it comes, of course, needle-sharp at first, but this spreading, burning warmth right after. Choking on your own breath, you scramble to find something to hold onto — but the counter is too smooth, too shiny, and Sam’s hands are too far away to grip, and, and—
God, you’re full. You’re not sure how every time feels like you’re taking more and more of him, but it does. Could be because he’s packing; could also be because you’d barely had time to react before you were laying on your back with two of his fingers knuckle deep in your pussy and the stove promptly turned off.
Something about Sundays makes Sam insatiable. Like, softly so, if that makes sense. Something about domesticity and sleeping in until 10 AM and making pancakes together — something about that pastel yellow apron and the soft music playing in the background, the shine of your wedding ring glittering in the mid-morning sun.
You’ve teased him before about it — snickered about his marriage kink and his baby kink and whatever other kink you’d thought up — but now, with your face smushed up on one side and your entire body being wracked with pleasure, his hips slapping against your ass, you thank every god, deity and higher power that your husband has got whatever thing he’s into, because almost every Sunday starts (and/or ends) with your guts being rearranged.
Which is nice. Especially when said husband is generous with giving orgasms. Proven now by how one of his hands — his blessed, calloused hands — jams itself between your body and the countertop and finds your clit. And not just finds it: rubs at it, rolls it underneath his fingers, presses against it until your voice breaks and your back arches and you gasp out his name in that way he likes.
That’s all it takes for him to follow you over the edge; just the sticky, silky walls of your pussy pulsing around him, his name shuddered out long and drawn-out. Sam slumps forward with a groan of your name and something that sounds like I love you, nose nudging against your back — it’s all warmth that fills you up, spurt after spurt of it that leaves you satisfied and satiated.
You feel his chest, all hard lines and bulging muscles, contracting and heaving against your back. One breath in, one breath out. Another in, another out. A kiss against the nape of your neck, a large hand smoothing down your spine. And then:
“How about them pancakes, huh?”
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Thanks, Doll / Bucky Barnes Imagine
Request: So after coming back from the blip, everything was different... There was no one who was close enough to Bucky, but as time went on, after many failed attempts with online dating, he finally meets someone (reader). They eventually start seeing each other and he's able to get a little of that calm that he so much wishes for, but as Bucky and reader are spending a very sweet and intimate morning, Sam Wilson makes his unpleasant entrance as he goes to Bucky's apt after texting him about new leads on some crime)
This is so sweet omg thank you @h-a-j-i-m-e-ru my darling!!
If you enjoy, please comment and reblog!
It always amazes Bucky how quickly life can change.
He finds himself, for the first time in over seventy years, laughing into the bottle of Tiger beer he’s brought up to his lips. He nearly spills half of it out over the already sticky table of the Chinese restaurant. For a moment, as he glances over at you with crinkles in his eyes, he almost looks like the poor, lost boy who sat at the pub with Steve all those years ago, laughing into his drink and pretending, for one moment, he was just a dumb kid from Brooklyn again.
But then you throw a piece of broccoli at him with your chopsticks in mock disgust, continuing on your story about how your co-worker had managed to spill a whole bowl of tomato soup on your boss, and he finds himself staring into your eyes again. He drops his fork back down onto the half eaten Chow Mein on his plate, stomach still not quite used to eating normal food again. Placing his metal hand as a fist under his chin, he sighs in contentment just to watch you speak, the blur of other eaters fading into the back of his mind, not realising, for once, that he was so calm in your presence, his brain wasn’t surveying for any nearby threats.
It amazes Bucky even more, how quickly you can bring some of that life back.
Before he even knew it, the plates were gone, and he was promising to take you dancing. He nearly forgot himself, gloved hand shooting over his mouth. Chiding himself for being so silly, for letting his age getting to him - who on Earth goes dancing anymore? But you had glanced at him with surprised eyes - god, he thought, he could drown forever in those eyes - and quivering lips that finally burst into laughter at his terrified expression.
‘What, is my face that funny doll?’
‘You did look like you were about-’, you manage to choke out between laughter, ‘-about to pass out on me there. Dancing, what are you, ninety?’
‘106, actually’, he states, taking a swig of the last drop of his beer and finding his chest deflating at the same time. For a moment, he just looks down at the tablecloth, fingers picking at the slightly off-white threads that poke out from underneath his crumpled napkin. How could he have ruined another relationship? Things had been going so well, for weeks, and for the first time in his life, with you, he had felt like himself again. Like James. Like Bucky. But just like everything, he had to destroy it. First Steve, then Sam. Sometimes he thinks he should just never talk again - just go hide and pretend he wasn’t a man completely lost. Both in time, and within himself.
His eyes suddenly break open again, snapping the cogs out of their self-depreciative spin when he feels your hand crawl over the back of his leather gloves. He shivers, his skin so sensitive due to years of lack of touch, that he can feel the warmth radiate from your fingers as you tug his off from the table. He dares to glance at you, and he finds himself shuffling with awe in his seat when he finds you staring right back, a smirk tugging at your lips.
He dares to bump his pinkie against yours, breath hitching as you dare further and pull his fingers apart, intertwining them with yours one by one. Finally, as he wrapped his fingers even more tightly around the back of your hand, he could feel your palm slide against him. He wished, just for a moment, that he could have a mask back on. It would allow him to hide the blush that burnt like fire against his cheeks. So he could hide the fear in his eyes, his heart thumping both at your touch, but also with the fear the metal might clench out of his control, arm starting to tremble at the thought of ever hurting you with who he is. Instead, he coughs hoarsely, tapping his foot and ducking his chin, trying to hide his head from you.
‘I knew we were gone with the blip for a while, but I didn’t realise we’d been gone THAT long. No wonder all my joints hurt.’
You break the silence, allowing Buck a moment to just enjoy the way you were reaching for each other across the table. Just a moment for the two of you to feel like a normal couple. Kidding with each other. Going dancing. In love. As he began to chuckle back, the two of you trying to stifle your giggles as the older couple from the table over throw you a harsh glare, he feels like his heart is about to burst out of his chest.
‘So’, he sighs blissfully, almost climbing over the table now to be as close to you as humanly possible. His breath is warm as he lifts your hand to kiss your knuckles, and he hums lowly as your fingers twitch within his. You can see something, some dark and sultry and completely overtaking need, want, desire, love in his eyes as he looks over at you.
‘Still want to dance, or are we too old?’
A few months later, Bucky has got the ring in his pocket.
It was the most like him he had felt since the war.
He had it all planned out. A day out to visit Coney island, taking you to all the hidden spots, and dragging you onto all the rides Steve had refused to go on last time (although, to be fair, the mix of tall rides and too many hot dogs had made him very ill.) Then he would take you out to club the two of you had first danced at. He could imagine it now, closing his eyes and just breathing the morning in. Your hand held against his chest as he cups it with his larger ones. Your head tucked into the side of your neck, his hand tight, fingers digging into your hip as he tries not to hyperventilate. As the song stops, he would step back, taking a last shaking breath as you glance up at him in confusion, but he would only let out a teary, wobbly smile before dropping down onto one knee and-
Bucky groans, thumping one of his arms over his eyes, and flipping his phone over on the bedside table with the other. Once he finishes grumbling to himself, he kicks his feet out from the bottom edge of the duvet, trying not to rustle too much and wake you up from where you’re lying asleep, cheek smushed against his naked chest. His mouth stretches open in a yawn, eyes staying shut to stop the honey sun of the early spring morning greyness from catching his eye, a slight, angry breeze buzzing and caressing against his midriff.
‘Sam’, he grumbles out, ‘I’m busy.’
He’s about to let himself fall asleep again - pulled into the sweet dreams, intoxicated by you. It was a blessing, really. Every night you stay with him, he finds his nightmares don’t plague him - he doesn’t wake up once. Before he can drop, he feels two warm lips press a sloppy, sleepy kiss against his abdomen.
‘If you don’t answer, he’ll just keep going. Plus, as much as you want to grump, it’s probably important.’
He huffs as he shuffles down the bed, until his head hits yours. He folds against you, head leaning into the dip of your neck, but as he wraps his leg back over your own, you can feel him smile against his skin.
‘I’m sorry doll, I didn’t mean to wake you up.’
Your cheeks raise slightly as you glance down, catching your boyfriend staring up at you with wide, wonderous eyes, as if you had placed every star in the sky. As if he were about to drown, and you were the only thing he was still gripping on to.
‘Hmmm it’s okay, you didn’t. I thought we could try your mom’s old pancake recipe today.’
He groans happily as you start to card your fingers through his hair, and he snuggles closer into you. You giggle, his thighs cold and bare against your own as he leans over and pins you to the bed. For a moment, you’re breathless, his chest pressing against your own. Then you hear Buck groan, hands tight against your hips as he raises himself up, putting pressure on his forearms so he doesn’t press his whole weight onto your front. His thighs squeeze your legs closer together, slightly lifting your hips up towards his own as his fingers ghost over your neck. After a moment of just gazing at you, wishing that he could live in this moment forever, he dips his head and presses quick kisses up your chest, before finally sliding up to meet your lips.
He intertwines your hands, pinning them to either side of your head before he begins speaking.
‘Maybe’, kiss, ‘we can’, kiss, ‘stay here’, kiss, ‘and just’, kiss, ‘do this’, kiss, ‘all day’.
Before you can respond, the sound of thumping footsteps begin to echo around the walls. The two of you suddenly pull your heads apart, chests still pressed together, but a confused look on both of your faces as you turn, in sync, to stare towards the door.
Three fast raps on the door is all that precedes the sound of wood splintering.
Bucky only sighs against your cheek.
‘You weren’t answering your phone, and this is an emergency!’, Sam calls out as his shoulder pushes the remains of Bucky’s front door out of the way and steps into the living room.
‘I think that’s your call to go’, you say, giggling at the look of absolute despair and annoyance that clouds your boyfriend’s face. You push his shoulder and his arm folds, flopping his body heavily so he’s resting by your side. Instead of moving though, he only mutters a few low (you can’t make out much of the spewing things he mutters, but you did catch ‘stupid bird’ and ‘help, my ass’ from the mess) things into the mattress, and places his arm around your waist.
You’re about to say something, but then you hear a foot kicking the bottom of your bedroom door.
‘I am not coming in there Cyborg. It’s time to go.’ You can hear Buck’s partner pace around the rest of the apartment, a few dry laughs as he pokes a few trinkets, a few sea shells the two of you had collected on your first date, around on the kitchen top table in glee.
Buck rolls onto his back as he shouts back through the door, ‘I already have plans Sam!’
‘Yeah, and now you have new ones!’, you hear echo through the wood, the impatience evident in Sam’s voice. ‘Now can you get off your ass, please!’
The two of them seem to sigh at the same time.
You have to press a hand to your mouth, biting your lip to try and stifle the laughter that threatens to bubble out at the look Buck throws you.
‘Go on fossil, I’ll be here when you get back. It might be nice to nap without you stealing the duvet, for a change.’
He chuckles, shaking his head lightly. He runs his thumb over the love bite he had left on the side of your neck last night, his touch firm but just gentle enough that you sigh into his touch. Pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand, you feel a swell of pride rise in your stomach as you shove your boyfriend off of the bed and onto the floor, Sam full on laughing from outside at the sound of Buck’s butt hitting the panelling with a thud.
The tips of his dishevelled hair appear from over the side of the bed, stubble in a faux frown as he stares over at you.
‘Thanks, doll. Love you too.’
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seriously, doll? : b.b
there was no denying bucky was a bit of a flirt. but when there is something underlying between the two of you, you can't help but feel jealous watching him flirt with sam's sister, sarah. (1.7k)
requested: yes by the lovely @interestedcas - apologies for the very long delay, but i hope it lives up to your idea!
warnings: some spoilers for tfatws
also thank you so much for 6k!
masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!
Sometimes you couldn't help but wonder if Bucky thought you must've been blind or deaf to not notice his small flirtatious acts arise with none other than Sam's sister, Sarah.
It was obvious he was flirting without trying to, that was part of the 'Bucky Barnes Charm' as Sam coined a few months ago when he witnessed Bucky painfully try to flirt with you.
The events that took place in Madripoor weren’t exactly what you’d coin as flirting. Being overly protective whilst you were assigned the role of Zemos arm candy, then yes.
“No one is here, Zemo. You can let go of her now.” Bucky sternly speaks up after being silent for the majority of the walk into lowtown.
Glancing over his shoulder, Zemo simply smirks at the former soldier. “There’s eyes everywhere, James. And I don’t think Y/n minds.”
Bucky opens his mouth to protest, but you beat him to it. “Y/n can speak for herself, thank you.” A scoff follows from you, and Bucky watches with pride as you slung off Zemo's arm. “You don’t have to touch me to play the part, Baron.”
Zemo tuts to himself. “But where’s the fun in that, liebling?”
Walking a few steps faster, Bucky finds himself alongside Zemo. "If you do anything that makes her even the slightest bit uncomfortable Zemo," Bucky forcefully starts, but Zemo remains unphased.
"You'll what? Kill off your only lead in finding the serum?" Zemo raises a brow, only to see Bucky clench his jaw and avert his gaze. "I thought so." He adds with a hum, holding his hand out toward you. "Come, Y/n, our work has only just started."
During that entire mission, Bucky kept a close eye on you. Whenever Zemo stepped out of line, Bucky noticed the smallest of changes in your demeanour. He'd watch your eyes close slightly, or your fake smile widens into a grimace; all of which boiled his blood.
And then once it was over and you were no longer required to be Zemo's arm candy Bucky almost stopped caring. He didn't make any remarks to Zemo about his behaviour toward you, instead, he went back to his normal self, well almost normal self as he seemed to avoid you like the plague.
Now free from the flagsmashers and the spread of the new super soldier serum you could all relax for the first time in months.
Sam had insisted you come to visit him in New Orleans, and you could hardly say no to the chance of a change of scenery and a challenge with his parents' boat.
Music filled the dock with family and friends enjoying the BBQ Sam helped put together. You couldn't keep track of the flow of beer and laughter that ensued throughout the day as Sam roped you into numerous conversations with old family friends.
And it was all good fun until Bucky turned up -later than intended. You could hear Sarah's children calling out to him, and glancing over your shoulder it was impossible to stop a smile forming on your face.
Bucky looked happy, truly happy clad in a denim jacket and sunglasses with a smushed cake in hand, typical.
Walking toward your friend with a spare beer, you could feel your heartbeat increasing as he slid the sunglasses off. "Hey, Buck-" Before you could finish, Bucky's attention averted to Sarah.
Remaining still, you watched in almost slow motion as he accepted a beer from Sarah, his hand lingering against hers. He was smiling at her with that dazzling smile rarely seen over these last few years, but whenever it did you couldn't help but feel weak at the knees.
Yet, you remain seated and watch the two of them, not interfering in the slightest whilst your heart hammers in your chest.
Sam rose to his feet, exchanging a knowing look between his sister and somewhat of a friend. "I told you, Barnes," Sam starts, holding his finger out at Bucky. "do not flirt with my sister."
Laughing along with the reminder, Sarah shot Sam a look whilst Bucky held his hands up in defence. "I was just being friendly." Bucky states with that smirk, and you can't help but take a bigger swig of your beer.
As the afternoon progressed into the evening, you watched from the sidelines, talking to various people but your ears always tuned in on Bucky wherever he was. You hated the unknown effect he has on you, that you're just his friend who he'll flirt with as mere banter. Whilst to you, everything he says you feel inclined to shield your heart, knowing it's only surface level talk.
"And that's when young Sam Wilson turned up," Kevin was chortling, unable to stop as he tries to regain composure. "wearing nothing but his underwear and Sarah's bra on his head!"
A series of recollections of that event quickly followed from other neighbours and their humour was contagious, ridiculously so.
"Oh, and here's the man himself!" Someone calls out and you turn to see Sam standing just behind you, noticing his smile growing from the company surrounding you both.
"So this is where you've been hiding, huh?" Sam nudges your arm, watching you playfully roll your eyes in response.
"Not hiding necessarily," You mutter in response, unable to stop your eyes glancing over to see Bucky at a table with Sarah's kids hanging from his metal arm. "just,"
"Avoiding?" Sam finishes for you with a knowing look. "I get it, things have been kinda tense between you two since Madripoor."
Scoffing lightly, you step away from the group of people you were previously talking to. "I don't know, Sam." You shrug it off. "He's happy, and I'm okay with that."
"Don't lie to yourself, Y/n." Sam tells you, catching up with you as you quickly walk along the docks toward the edge of the boardwalk. "It's not a bad thing, to be honest with yourself once in a while."
"I disagree." Shrugging your shoulders you continue walking despite Sam having stopped. "Helps avoid getting hurt." You mutter under your breath before reaching the edge of the boardwalk, wiping away the tears that begin to fall.
Closing your eyes, you exhale deeply before sitting down with your feet dangling over the edge of the well worn wooden boards.
Beneath your feet the waves crash against the structure, blocking out the sound of someone interrupting your tranquillity.
"Thought I saw you walk off in this direction." Bucky calls out. Now having caught your attention, he notices your shoulders slump and lack of acknowledgement. "Not that I blame you, I mean, wow." He whistles at the view, the various shades of orange and pinks painted across the sky begin to blend into the purples and blues of the night sky.
"It's peaceful." Finally, you respond whilst trying to keep your voice down so Bucky can't hear the crack that desperately wants to sound. "Just, just allows me to reflect and not worry for a while."
Bucky steps closer before sitting down next to you, his arm brushing across yours. He immediately notices the slight chill that runs through you and the frown etched across your face.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asks quietly, aware of your brows knitting together before you glance his way with glossy eyes and shake your head. "Come on, doll, it's only me." Bucky pushes the matter with a small smile, unaware of him worsening the issue as your heart pushes further outward of your chest, close enough for him to rip out if he wishes.
"You just don't get it, do you?" A sad laugh escapes as you shake your head. "It's not just you, Bucky, god." For a moment, your hands rise to cover your face and the choked sob that crawls up your throat. "I have spent months trying to push aside my feelings for you, any and every single thought I had over you has been blocked out. But when you asked me on this mission, I," You trail off, looking out at the waves once more. "I was stupid to think it meant something more than working together again."
Silence falls over the two of you uncomfortably whilst laughter echoes down the boardwalk.
"It, it wasn't just for the job." Bucky mutters, glancing up at you with a soft gaze. "These last few months without you haven't been easy."
Shuffling beside him, you turn your legs toward his and brush your foot across his as Bucky huffs loudly.
"Why didn't you say anything, Bucky? I, I would've answered if you called." You tell him quietly despite the slight annoyance he can trace in your voice.
"Because I didn't want to damage things." He blurts out. "So when this came up, it was almost the perfect distraction. Being with you on a mission felt weirdly comforting." A dry laugh leaves Bucky's lips, but you remain quiet, now listening intently. "It meant I could see you, be with you like old times before everything became so,"
"Complicated?" You finish for him, watching as he nods. "It doesn't have to be complicated, you know."
A small smile begins to toy at Bucky's lips at the thought, but he catches himself off guard at the sight of you shiver. "You cold, doll?" He asks and you nod.
"I knew I should've brought a jacket." You admit.
Before you're able to wrap your arms around yourself, Bucky shrugs off his denim jacket and drapes it over you. "There," He sighs in content and lifts his arm up, bringing you into his embrace. "no more complicated, yeah?"
Resting your head on his chest, the two of you sit in a comfortable silence watching the waves begin to die down and the sun now setting allowing an endless amount of opportunities to consume the night sky.
As your eyes begin to close, Bucky can feel your breathing slow.
Looking down, he lifts his metal hand up to brush your hair out of your forehead and with some confidence he gently kisses your temple with a smile.
"No more complicated." You whisper with a tired smile, feeling Bucky's heart practically skip a beat.
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Something Special (Part 2)
Marvel - A Bucky Barnes Imagine
Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Here's Part 1
THANK YOU for all of the overwhelming love on Part 1!! You guys are incredible.
You and a certain broody man become closer.
"I'm not the man you need me to be," Bucky said finally. You had just finished a good dinner, the conversation was minimal but good. You thought things were going well.
"What do you mean?" you whisper, turning to face him. He had a deep frown on his face, his eyes cast downward.
He gave a scoff of disbelief and shook his head. "I can't believe you don't know who I am. The winter soldier."
The winter soldier. Of course you knew of him, you just didn't know he was sitting right in front of you. Yet, he wasn't. This was no longer the Hydra puppet. This was a man who was rebuilding himself, and was obviously working hard to correct the mistakes that weren't even his own.
"To be fair, you don't know who I am either," you tried to say lightly, but Bucky didn't seem to hear you, or didn't seem to care.
Finally, he titled his head. His stunning, sad eyes met yours. "You don't know the things I have done."
You sighed, shifting closer. You had an urge to comfort him, but you didn't want to overstep. "Bucky, you are a good man. I can't imagine what you have gone through, and I don't think I ever want to know. I understand you're still trying to find yourself, trying to pick up the pieces, but at least let me help you. I want to be there for you."
Bucky had been watching you earnestly, and he hesitantly reached a hand to push back a piece of stray hair. You nuzzled his hand, and you could see him holding back a smile. He turned away a bit like he was embarrassed.
"I wish I could stay," he whispered. "But I have work to finish."
"I understand," you smiled sadly, feeling the gut-wrenching misery at his departure. You enjoyed his company. He was comforting, a comfort you hadn't had in a long time. "But you'll come back?"
"Of course I will," Bucky said with as much affirmation as possible, but he wasn't too sure.
It had been weeks since you had last seen or heard from Bucky. He didn't even meet you in your dreams.
You didn't know what to think. Maybe it was too good to be true. At least you had the chance to meet him once, some people don't even get that much.
It still stung.
It was around three in the morning when someone starting knocking on your door.
Sam Wilson, The Falcon, grinned at you, obviously tired and maybe injured, but somehow still in high spirits.
Bucky had his arm wrapped around his shoulder - Sam supporting most of his weight. He looked more dead than alive.
"This ass wouldn't stop moaning about you, so I took matters in my own hand."
"By beating him up?" you asked, allowing them inside.
Sam chuckled, dropping Bucky on the couch. "We're sorry to bother you so late."
"I didn't want to bother you at all," Bucky said sharply. "I didn't want her involved, Sam."
"It's okay," you soothed, getting closer to assess his injuries. "I'll be fine."
"We need a place to lay low for awhile," Sam whispered.
"As long as you need," you nodded. "There's a guest bedroom if you want to take that. Do you need anything?"
"Just sleep and a shower. Do you mind?" Sam asked. He was very polite, and obviously cared about Bucky.
"Go ahead. It's just down the hall to the right. The bathroom is across from it."
"Thanks." Sam left you and Bucky in silence.
"Are you hurt?" you asked. "Sam was holding you up. Is it your foot?" You reached for his leg, but Bucky pulled you back up.
"I'm fine," he said. "I'm just a little sore. Not all of us can fly," he rolled his eyes, a hint of a smile threatening to break the mask.
"Alright. Are you going to sleep with Sam or the couch?" You already knew the answer when he flashed an annoyed look. You chuckled, getting up to grab him some blankets and a pillow.
When he was all situated, you asked him if he needed anything else.
"No, but you look really cute in your pajamas," his lips quirked slightly, and you blushed, bidding a good night.
You weren't prepared for him to end up in bed with you. When you woke up, he was tangled around you like a snake. He felt like an inferno, and you kicked the blankets down to ease the heat.
He looked so peaceful while he slept. His shirt was off, and he had dog tags around his neck.
"Bucky," you called gently, wiggling your arm free to run it through his hair.
He stirred, eyes blinking sleepily at you.
"I'm sorry," he said with a deep, raspy voice. "I just - I really missed you, Y/N, even though we haven't know each other long. I wanted to contact you, but I-" he struggled.
"It's okay," you murmured, running your hand down his face. "I missed you, too. It doesn't take long just to call me, you know?"
He nodded, slowly untangling his arms from around your frame.
"But since you probably haven't dated in a million years," you grinned.
He smiled, actually smiled, teeth and all. "I'm not that old. Do I look that old to you?"
"No," you blushed when Bucky bent his head to brush his lips against your forehead.
"You're sweet," he said, his face turning serious once more. "God, even after I dropped off of the face of the planet. You're so accepting, even with Sam, and you don't even know him."
The blush didn't leave your cheeks, so you scooted yourself down so you could rest your head on his chest. You felt his hand run soothingly down your back.
It was blissful. You could stay in his arms forever.
Here's Part 3. Lol I love it :)
Tag List: @superwholockruleztheworld @imiiimargo @hiuahoe @idunnomayn @cable-kenobi @nialeesato
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flux // b.b
Summary: Bucky finally gets a taste of the peace and happiness he deserves
Pairing: post endgame!Bucky & fem!reader
Requested: yes, Hey bestie! I'm really excited that you are opening requests for one grumpy super soldier. I was wondering if you would write something that involves Bucky finally slowing down and getting some of that peace he had in Wakanda with reader please 🥺
Warning: slight angst, mentions of the winter soldier, other than that pure fluff
Word Count: 1,494
His entire life had been a state of flux.
All he knew was constant adjustment and adaptation to new people, new surroundings, and new social norms. He’d never had the chance to settle down or into anything and for a while, it didn’t bother him.
It was hard to crave something he’d never had a taste of, which was why he didn’t find himself searching for peace or freedom.
His life had never really felt like it was his.
He spent most of his childhood looking out for his friends and family, relishing in the personal satisfaction he felt when he stepped into the role of a protector.
It made him feel good to look out for others. It filled him with a sense of pride knowing that he was keeping his friends and family safe.
It filled him with purpose, something he struggled to find for so long.
He spent a long time searching for something that filled his chest with the same pride and satisfaction that he got when he protected those closest to him did.
As he grew older, he found himself chasing the feeling more and more each day. His chest no longer felt full of pride, but empty, like something was missing.
It didn’t make sense.
He still fought tooth and nail, sometimes physically, to defend his friends and family’s reputation, but despite that, something was still missing.
He found himself longing, craving something more, but he didn’t know what.
When he enlisted in the Army, his chest filled with purpose all over again. It wasn’t as fulfilling as the sense of satisfaction he got when he was protecting those closest to him, but nevertheless, it was still a glimmer of a fleeting feeling he was desperate to feel again.
For a while, he was content.
He was content in his role as the protector and his new role as the defender. He became the defender of his country against evil and the defender of his former soldiers, risking his life to save theirs on more than one occasion.
Even then, something still felt like it was missing.
The warmth that spread throughout his chest wasn’t as warm as it had been when he was younger and it didn’t radiate throughout his whole body. Instead, it lingered solely in his chest.
For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was he was searching for. He was starting to wonder if he had gone mad.
How could he be missing something, longing for something, he’d never experienced?
He should’ve held on to the faint ember that was a reminder of the pride he felt in his chest because one day, out of nowhere, the flame went out completely.
When he was the winter soldier the warmth in his chest was replaced by emptiness. There was a tightness in his chest where the warmth used to reside that made it hard for him to breathe.
His life wasn’t his anymore. Granted, he was still serving people, but he wasn’t protecting them. He had a purpose, but it wasn’t one of good intent.
He felt empty. Worthless, even.
He longed for what little warmth used to reside in his chest. He wished that even the faintest spark of pride would return once he complete the tasks that had been assigned to him, but it never did.
It would be about seventy years later when that spark would finally reignite in his chest.
It would be when he was in Wakanda, seeking refuge after the avengers’ fallout. Each day he spent in Wakanda he felt the warmth slowly return to his body.
Although he wasn’t necessarily protecting or defending others, he felt that same satisfaction slowly begin to spread through his body again, bringing him back to life.
Little tasks like helping around the village or even playing with the children that’d been told to stay away from him made him happy.
But as quickly as the feeling returned, it vanished.
When Thanos started reeking havoc on Earth, he was thrown into another battle, one he wasn’t sure he’d make it out of.
He was so tired of fighting.
He wondered if someday all of the fights would even be worth it. He wondering if maybe someday, everything would make sense to him and he’d finally find what he’d been searching for.
Then one day, out of the blue, he met you.
You had just finished getting ready for bed and brushing your teeth as you turned off the light to the en-suite bathroom and made your way to bed.
Bucky was deep in thought, his eyes transfixed on the ceiling as you lifted the covers and settled in beside him.
Your presence didn’t disturb him. In fact, he was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn’t even acknowledge you as you snuggled into his side.
Instead, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him while his eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.
You could tell he was in a world of his own and you didn’t want to interrupt him. So, you joined him, watching the shadows dance across your ceiling while a comfortable silence settled around you.
Turning to face him, you admired his profile. The stubble along his jaw was getting long again and with a small, hopeful smile, you ran your fingers across it, wondering if this was the time he was finally going to grow his beard out, or if he was going to shave it again.
As soon as your fingers brushed against his jaw, his smile widened.
It took a long time for him not to flinch at your touch. Three years ago, he flinched when you tried to lace your fingers with his or wrap your arms around him, but now, he melted into your touch.
It was something he craved.
It was a reminder that he was safe, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, no matter how alone he felt.
“What’s got you thinking so hard?” You asked, finally breaking the silence surrounding the two of you as you proposed the question.
“Just thinking about life.” He admitted softly.
“Oh yeah?” With a small smile, you mused, “What about?”
He didn’t know where to begin.
It was like he was on the verge of an epiphany that he couldn’t even explain. He’d never really been good with words, but now more than ever he was struggling to find the ones that would accurately describe what he was feeling.
For the longest time he was searching for an unknown feeling and he wasn’t sure how he could explain that he had finally found what he’d been searching for for all of those years.
A single tear rolled down his cheek as he brought the back of his hand to his eye and you immediately sat up.
“Buck?” Your brow furrowed with concern as you pressed on. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, love.” He let out with a small chuckle. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.” He placed his hand over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze and your frown softened at the reassuring gesture.
Before you could ask, he explained, “What if my whole life, everything I’ve been through, everything I’ve endured, was to lead me to you?”
You half expected him to tell you that he saw a shadow that looked like an animal or something else dancing across the ceiling.
You weren’t prepared for his reply.
It was obvious that he was deep in thought, but you had no idea how deep in his thoughts he actually was.
The two of you had talked about his past briefly over the course of your relationship.
In the beginning, he was reluctant to share anything about who he used to be. He was ashamed.
You never forced him to talk about it.
He was afraid that if he did, you’d leave him.
It took him a while to warm up to the idea of being vulnerable and when he finally let all of his walls down, you held him closer than you did before.
Reminding him that his past didn’t define his future was easy, but getting him to actually believe it was the hard part.
You knew that his past was a sensitive topic. It always had been. Which was why when he proposed the question with such optimism and a smile, you were taken aback.
“Wouldn’t that be something?” You finally replied, a small smile spreading across your lips.
“I’d like to think so.” He murmured. “I’d like to think that it all led me to you.” He said, placing a soft kiss to your forehead before confidently whispering, “Right where I’m supposed to be.”
His entire life had been a state of flux, but with you in it, he finally had a bit of peace. He was sure that he had finally found what he’d been searching for for all of those years.
Tagging some angels I adore: @blissfulparker @buckyspurpose @celestialbarnes @buckyblues @fallinforevans @buckycuddlebuddy @honeysucklesteve @sventeen-daybreak @reidsconverse
Send me some feedback!
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can you imagine inexperienced!reader shyly asking best friend!bucky to help them out with a dildo they just bought. like bucky is holding it and he guides it into them,, has reader ride it jsbdjd
— updated (aug. 06, 2021) with a visual (p*rn link)
“c'mon, you can take it all, I know you can. hey, look at me, breathe. there you go. you're doing so good for me,” he sprinkles kisses on your neck, before his teeth clamps down on your shoulder, tongue smoothing over the bite mark.
“f-fuck.. I-I..,” you mumbled under your breath, too ashamed to voice your needs.
“what do you want, doll?” cerulean eyes twinkled in amusement.
you couldn't piece together words, frustration bubbling underneath the surface as you try to fuck yourself harder on the dildo.
“you rather have my cock fucking you instead of this worthless piece of silicone, don't ya?” he growled with a sharp thrust, causing you to cry out and clench around it.
he'd lazily bring the dildo in and out of your hole, observing the way you swallow it, greedy to be filled.
“that's what you want, huh? to be stuffed with something bigger, warmer,” cockiness was evident in his tone, as if he knew you needed something better — needed him.
“p-please,” you whimpered, as tears formed at the corners of your eyes.
you hissed as he slid the toy out, your hole fluttering around nothing.
“well,” he fumbles with his belt buckle, chuckling as he takes in your spread out form, “who am I to deny when you look so cute like this, begging for me?”
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Bucky Barnes x Reader
A/N: just a little something I wrote after watching the first ep of tfatws and possibly fueling my bucky brainrot, and damn how much i missed marvel :D
Word count: 1082
Warning(s): SFW, just a tiny bit of sad, tfatws spoilers!!
It was almost by the afternoon and you were making your way towards Bucky’s apartment. It has been hard having to cope with the new normal after half of the citizens of the world returned from the Blip and you were one of them.
The thought of disappearing for five years for it to feel like minutes were hell, imagine just disappearing to come back and find out you’ve missed five whole years of your life and everyone seemed to move forward except for you. It still stopped the gears in your head whenever you think about it.
Other than that, you missed your Bucky, you could even remember the scenario when you two were reunited clear as day.
You were running around aimlessly in the facility, trying to find those blue eyes you fell for years ago. Your heart was hammering in your chest like it was about to burst seeing people around you rush to find their loved ones, the ones they left for five years. Occasionally bumping into others, mumbling a quick ‘sorry!’ or ‘excuse me!’
Until you heard that. Your eyes widened as your lips automatically trembled and felt your knees was about to give in from underneath you. Glassy eyes met blue ones.
You stared into those pair of eyes that belonged to the man you loved the most, with a voice that never failed to send shivers down your spine whenever you hear him speak. The man who was misunderstood and now working to change his life.
“B-bu..” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as your legs automatically maneuvered to run up to him as he did the same. Before you even realized, you jumped into his big strong pair of arms as they hugged you tightly, securely. It felt like home. You were finally home.
You couldn’t stop the tears from running down both of your cheeks as you quickly buried your face in his neck, inhaling the scent you missed. You felt his embrace, squeezing you in his hold. If you could even focus clearly you’d hear both of your hearts hammering against one another’s chest.
You both pulled away from the embrace, looking at your lover and your instincts guided your hands on his face, his hair was still long, in a pony tail now, you inspected his face clearly. You noted how he aged a little, that his eyes looked so tired but he still had that stubble of his, almost exactly like the last time you saw him.
You couldn’t stop the grin from both of your faces to appear. Yet you couldn’t stop yourself any longer and immediately crashed your lips into his.
Bucky quickly reciprocated the action, both of your lips molding together perfectly. You remembered pulling away after a few seconds, meeting Bucky’s eyes again.
“I missed you so damn much.”
You tugged at your sleeves as you let out a breath whilst adjusting the bag of groceries on your hold. You shook your head from the memory and you soon realized you were right in front of his door already. You toyed with the strings of the bag as you shakily raised a hand and knocked slowly.
“Bucky..? Hey, it’s me.” You said. He was still wary from people knocking on his doors as he always expected the other end was a gun held up to his face, but that was the past now. Surely people weren’t out for his head anymore, right?
You swore you did a couple of knocks and announcing yourself but alas, no one came to the door. Something sparked in your head and were suddenly thankful for the spare key that Bucky gave to you when he first got this apartment.
“James.. I’m letting myself in, okay?”
You slowly inserted the key and twisted. It signaled its unlock in a satisfying ‘pop’ and you slowly swung it open.
The sight before you was not what you expected and that had you entering and closing the door quickly.
Bucky was sat on the floor as he seemed to be zoned out, a thin layer of sweat covering his bare upper half as the latter was covered by his blanket. His vibranium arm resting on his blanket covered knee.
You quickly set the bag of groceries down and carefully approached him, not wanting to surprise him further.
You kneeled slowly, facing him.
“Bucky.. baby.. hey.” Speaking, reaching out a hand that slowly made its way to his shoulder. You felt his muscles tense up but relax after a second.
“I don’t know why it’s still happening.” He suddenly spoke up. You sighed and nodded, wanting to let him continue.
“Every night, it’s still the same, that innocent man that I..” Bucky trailed off, huffing.
Scooting closer, you carefully grabbed his metal hand and his human one and softly squeezing that made him look at you.
You offered a sympathetic smile “Have you been telling it to your therapist?”
He shook his head, you spotted the way he rolled his eyes and let out a dry chuckle. “She’s just going to do the notebook thing again like she always does.”
You sigh, hand reaching up to play with his hair. You were used to your lover’s hair being long but his hair now suited him well.
He seemed to relax upon your touch, leaning his face in the palm of your hand, breathing deeply.
“Hey, come here.” You motioned and pulled him in an embrace. Your hand going up to rub his back in a comforting manner.
“You’ll get through this okay? You’ve been making amendments, right?” You ask and you felt him nod right after.
“(Y/N), thank you for being there.” He spoke, nuzzling his face onto the crook of your neck.
Oh the way you’d do anything to help ease his pain.
You smiled and pulled away, cupping his face as well as stroking his cheeks.
“There’s nothing I’d rather be in than here with you, Bucky.”
You leaned in to give him small, slow pecks on the lips, him relishing it and letting out a hum.
You were going to make sure you’d be there with him until his nightmares die down and he could at least get a full sleep. So you smile up at him and gave a peck on his forehead.
“Take a shower then meet me in the kitchen, I’ll make lunch for the both of us.”
“Possibly hold each other after..?”
“Yes, Bucky, we’ll cuddle after.”
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Peace (Zemo x Reader)
Summary: Even a man like Zemo needs comfort (and cuddles)
Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, cuddling, very very mild hurt/comfort because a majority of it is comfort lol
Word Count: 324
A/N: Hi hello I'm here with some Zemo fluff because it's what he deserves:)
Gender Neutral Reader
You had just barely turned off the lamp that stood on your nightstand and closed your eyes when you heard Helmut walk into the house.
You didn’t bother to get up and greet him; he’d be lying next to you in bed soon enough. You listened as Helmut quietly made his way to your shared bedroom. It was easier to just pretend to be asleep than to put effort into a conversation.
After Helmut had changed into his nightclothes (probably one of those silk pajama sets you always teased him about) you felt the opposite side of the bed dip slightly as he slid under the sheets next to you.
Without saying a word, Helmut slid closer to you and gently wrapped his arms around your waist. He held you tightly to his chest, pressing a light kiss to your head.
“Rough day?” You murmur to him, and Helmut hums in response.
“Something like that,” he says, warm breath tickling your bare skin.
“You wanna talk about it?” You ask him, and Helmut makes a small grunt-like noise that you take as a no. You don’t pressure him, knowing Helmut would tell you in his own time.
You roll over in his arms so you’re basically lying on top of him. Helmut didn’t mind, he always loved how affectionate you were. You wore your heart on your sleeve, always looking for the good in people. The opposite of Helmut. How he’d ended up with you would forever be a mystery to him.
“Can I help you in any way?” You ask Helmut. Sure, there was only so much one person could do, and you knew your limits and boundaries. But, it was well within your current mental capacity to try and comfort Helmut.
He pulls you closer to him, if that was even possible. Helmut whispers to you, “I just need your peace, my love. That’s all I need right now. Just your peace.”
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Imagine Bucky’s therapist asking about you...
Catching the calling device that had been tossed back, Bucky stared at its black casing as the woman sitting opposite, clearly concerned with his struggle to maintain relationships, let out a small sigh.
“And what about that last number? It belongs to a Y/n. You have an unsent text message. Why?” His therapist asked.
She had seen the name and there was a chance that she had seen the message draft too. For so long, he wanted to type out everything but every time he opened it, he felt it wasn’t good enough.
“I don’t know.”
The remark from the woman sitting opposite him was real and unprecedented. She was right too. His excuse was absolute garbage. With a short exhale, Bucky shook his head and stared at his feet.
“They deserve the best. Not someone broken.”
“Well, considering that they’ve been keeping you informed of their whereabouts, I think it might be worth for you to realise that their ‘best’ is you.” The therapist noted.
Rolling his eyes, Bucky scoffed and shot the woman a slight glare. “I also said not broken so...”
“You’re healing.” The woman interjected pointedly to get the message across. “And after losing so many friends during Thanos’ siege, so are they.”
~ More imagines here ~
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A Warm Welcome (Helmut Zemo/F!Reader, 18+ ONLY!)
Summary: Helmut has been away on business for a whole week, and you miss him badly. Luckily he left his favourite coat behind.
Warnings/Tags: Smut, masturbation, voyeurism, praise kink/dirty talk, scent kink (is that a thing?).
A/N: I’M BLUSHING LIKE CRAZY RIGHT NOW, YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW. I’ve never written smut before, and I didn’t think I ever would. Funny what this man does to me, huh? So, I’m super embarrassed. I won’t tag anyone in this because I’m unsure of everyone’s ages and stances on smut. PLEASE DON’T JUDGE ME D:
Word Count: 1623
Follow the link on my blog to find this fic on AO3.
“Well, well, meine Schatz, what do we have here?”
You froze all movement, three fingers till buried inside you. Looking at his face, you could see his smirk and the twinkle in his eyes.
There you were, spread out on his bed, wearing nothing but his favourite coat.
Helmut had been away on business for a week, leaving you all alone at home. With how often the two of you had sex while he’s there, you were bound to find yourself horny at some point. You certainly didn’t expect to find yourself horny the whole time.
With an incredible amount of willpower, you’d somehow managed to not do anything to relieve yourself the whole time. You knew that if you just waited, the build up would make the reunion sex incredible. You were going very well with restraining yourself.
Until the dream.
It was the night before Helmut was due back home, and you went to sleep ecstatic at the thought of seeing him again. Your subconscious translated that excitement into a truly delicious dream, probably the best you’d ever had. It had felt so real, so you were incredibly disappointed when you woke up before you could even finish.
Though you’d wanted to wait so bad, you knew that you’d think of nothing else, that the hours before Helmut would drag on and feel like an eternity, if you didn’t get yourself off. If only you could have lasted a little bit longer.
You pulled down your pyjama shorts, two fingers swiping through your folds to feel how absolutely sopping wet you were. You circled your fingers slowly around your clit, occasionally lowering them to delve inside yourself, but for some reason, it just wasn’t enough. You needed something else.
By coincidence, your eyes happened to fall on something when you looked around the room.
Helmut’s favourite coat, folded neatly upon the dresser, which he had forgotten to take with him on his trip. You stood up off the bed, moving over to where the coat was sitting.
You picked the garment up, pressing it to your face. It still smelled like Helmut, his ridiculously expensive cologne, and you closed your eyes, taking it all in. Already, you could feel your pussy clenching around nothing.
With a sigh, you stripped off your pyjama top, and wrapped the coat around your now bare body. The fabric was soft against your skin, and it made you shiver to wear something of Helmut’s, especially with nothing else underneath. His gorgeous scent surrounded you. This was exactly what you needed.
You laid back down on the bed, spreading your legs and immediately starting back up again. Your eyes fluttered shut, working over your swollen clit with your fingers, occasionally bringing your other hand up to palm at your breast.
That was until it all got too much for you, and the hand on your chest travelled back down, slipping two fingers into your soaking wet entrance. You whimpered, as you imagined that it was Helmut doing these things to you.
You bucked your hips against your own hand, moaning Helmut’s name like a prayer, imagining the intense gaze in his eyes as he watched you writhing in pleasure beneath him. You added a third finger, stretching yourself out even more.
You threw your head to the side, burying your nose into the fur collar of Helmut’s coat. The smell of his cologne was even stronger now, you were so close, the tightness in your lower stomach was nearly ready to burst.
“F-fuck, Helmut, I’m gonna come,” you groaned out, and at that exact moment, Helmut had thrown open the door and walked inside, clearly pleased with what he saw in front of him.
“Helmut!” you squeaked, face turning bright red. “I-I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until this afternoon!”
“We finished our business quicker than we expected, so I thought I’d come back early and surprise you…” Helmut said, his voice deeper and his accent thicker than usual. He approached the bed, slowly, his eyes raking up and down your flushed, glistening body. His tongue darted out for a split second to lick his lips. “But I suppose I was in for an even bigger surprise, hmm?”
The way he was looking at you made you even wetter, something that you were sure shouldn't even be possible at this point. You were lost for words, simply staring at Helmut with lust in your eyes.
“I didn’t realise you liked my coat so much,” he drawled, as he climbed onto the bed, kneeling in front of your spread legs. “Schatzi, did you hide my favourite coat from me, so I couldn’t take it away with me?”
“It smells like you,” you replied simply. You hadn’t hidden his coat -- Helmut knew that, as he’d texted you a couple hours after he left asking if you could find it for him -- he was only teasing you, as you knew he loved to do.
Helmut smirked, licking his lips again, as his eyes travelled down to your entrance, where your three fingers were still buried deep inside. “Please, liebling, continue. I don’t want you to be left unsatisfied.”
“I mean… you could touch me,” you suggested quietly, but Helmut shook his head, chuckling darkly.
“I want to watch you make yourself come apart. Will you allow me that?” Helmut tilted his head to the side, and he stared at your with such hunger, such desire… how could you ever say no?
Your fingers began slowly rubbing circles against your clit again, slowly at first, but that look in his dark eyes drove you wild with even more desire. You sped up, curling the fingers still inside you and pumping them in and out, hitting against your sweet spot. Already, you felt like you were close to the edge.
Helmut watched you, shifting his legs every so often. Even with your mind clouded by lust you could notice the growing bulge in the front of his tight, dark trousers. Your mouth opened, a shuddering moan escaping you.
“You look so beautiful, my love,” Helmut praised, his eyes locked firmly on your face, loving so much to see how you reacted to the pleasure. “So sweet with your little fingers so deep inside yourself. It can’t compare to having my fingers inside you, can it? Or my cock? Tell me, Schatz, would you rather I was fucking you right now?”
“Yes,” you whined out, arching your hips far off the bed. “Please, Helmut, need you so bad.”
“Not yet,” he told you, and you nearly sobbed. “But… if you’re a very good girl and come for me now, I’ll give you a little reward…”
The promise of a ‘reward’ was more than enough to push you over the edge. You gasped, feeling utterly breathless as you tightened around your fingers. The bliss overtook you, and you threw your head back, nearly smacking it against the headboard as you did so.
“Keep going, liebling, you’re doing so well,” Helmut said, shifting closer to you, fascinated by the sight of your entrance contracting around your fingers. He brushed a hand against your thigh, as light as a feather, and you whimpered, almost pathetically.
“Helmut!” You couldn’t help but moan out his name, your hands quickly becoming exhausted as they continued to work, but Helmut’s predatory grin spurred you on. You kept going until you were completely spent, tired legs falling onto the plush comforter as your breath came in short, harsh pants.
“Mein Gott, liebling,” said Helmut’s voice beside you, and you realised that while your eyes had been shut he had shifted to lie down next to you. “You were truly incredible.”
You smiled, as much as you could manage when you felt like you could fall asleep at any given moment. With a bit of effort, you withdrew your fingers from yourself, and Helmut quickly grabbed your wrist before it could fall to the bed.
You let out weak little moans as you felt Helmut’s tongue run over the sticky digits, tasting you. He let out a groan before releasing your fingers from his mouth, with an almost vulgar popping sound.
“Sweeter than any Turkish delight,” he said, smirking as he rested his head against your shoulder.
“Hope I didn’t ruin your favourite coat,” you told him once your breathing had steadied. Helmut chuckled.
“I’m sure you didn’t, Schatz.” Helmut’s fingers stroked against the fur collar of the coat in question, before dipping underneath to gently touch the soft skin of your chest. “And if you did, it was most certainly worth it. I can always buy another one.”
You laughed, turning your head so you could look at him. “In that case… maybe we can risk ruining it a little more. I think I remember a certain someone promising me a reward…”
“Already so eager, my love? You must have missed me terribly while I was gone.” Helmut smirked again, shifting so he was hovering above you, trapping you beneath him, though you certainly weren’t complaining.
“It was awful, Helmut, truly painful,” you said in a melodramatic tone, before your face broke into a mischievous grin, one of your hands softly touching the front of his trousers, just to hear him gasp. “Really, really hard.”
With a low growl, Helmut crashed his lips against yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth and allowing you to taste yourself on it. Moaning, you tightly wrapped your arms around his back to pull him closer to you.
Somehow, you could tell that the two of you probably wouldn’t be leaving the bed for the rest of the morning, at least. Then again, you did have a whole week to make up for.
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A Stark and her Soldier ~ Part 1
Imagine: Reuniting with Bucky when you end up helping Sam with the Flag Smashers.
Warnings: TFATWS SPOILERS! This takes place during the first two episodes of the show.
A/N: I can’t believe I’m saying this but I’M BACK (with a new header lol)!!! AHHHHHHHH! It’s been nearly two years but here I am… posting this makes me SO nervous, so feedback would be highly appreciated! More parts and some information about what I’m planning with this blog to follow soon!
“You held us together – do it for them,” he paused before adding, “Promise me you’ll do it for them.”
You blinked away the tears, knowing what was coming, “I can’t promise that...”
“Y/N please,” the way he begged you with that shaking voice was nearly enough to push you over the edge.
“I-I promise.” He squeezed your hand before letting you leave.
“You’ve reached James Barnes, sorry I couldn’t take your call, please –” you hung up before the recorded message could continue, face burning with frustration. This was the 9th time you had tried calling him this week, not to mention the countless text messages.
You scoffed thinking of Steve’s last words to you, how were you supposed to hold them together when you barely held yourself together on a good day? It doesn’t make it any easier when the person you’re supposed to be holding together is so keen on letting himself fall apart.
Every time you tried calling him, you ended up feeling furious, miserable, or like an absolute failure – usually all three. You promised Steve, you promised, and you failed. You groaned and chucked your phone across your bed.
The last time you had seen him, Steve had still been around, and you hadn’t even spoken to him since Tony’s funeral.
You and Pepper had walked to the lake, each holding one of Morgan’s hands, and you had sat at the dock watching the arc reactor – his heart – float away, the people behind you forgotten in your grief. The weight on your heart was unbelievable, you had already lost your best friend, Natasha, and now your brother was gone.
You promised him that you wouldn’t cry at his funeral – he always knew it was inevitable – and so you sat there, sending him away with a pained smile.
You had no idea how long you had just sat there, staring at the horizon across the lake, trying to make this last moment with your brother last forever.
“Y/N?” You felt a hand squeezing your shoulder, “You should come back inside.”
“What happens now, Steve?” Your voice was softer than he had ever heard before.
“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out together,” he paused for a moment before gesturing to Bucky, waiting outside the house behind him, “He wants to talk to you.”
You gave Bucky a small smile, “Hey.”
He walked over and dropped down next to you, Steve leaving the two of you to chat, “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” You nodded solemnly.
He added, “For everything, Y/N… he probably wouldn’t even have wanted me here, but –”
You shook your head and took his hand, heart fluttering at the contact. You had always been attracted to him, and it had only grown with every interaction. “That wasn’t you.”
You knew your brother never blamed Bucky, you all knew how it felt to have people mess with your heads and Bucky had had the worst of it. He was furious at Steve for years, but never at Bucky – you could never bring yourself to be angry with either of them, not after the stories you grew up with. Your father had adored the soldiers and you had been one of their biggest fans, and later one of Steve’s closest friends.
There had come a point after the battle between Tony and Steve when you had become sick of all the back and forth. You were lucky enough to find an escape when T’Challa got in touch with you, offering you a chance to come to Wakanda and learn about their technology – you weren’t ashamed to admit that you were the one who contacted him to beg for it. You hadn’t known that Bucky was already there. Slowly but surely, the two of you found comfort in one another and became good friends.
He gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “You should head inside, it’s getting late – I’ll see you again soon.”
He stayed true to that statement, the two of you stood with Sam and Bruce, waiting for Steve to come back after returning the stones – only to have him shatter your hearts.
You only saw Bucky in passing after that, occasionally visiting Steve at the same time – you never said a word to him, beyond a smile or a wave, and then you stopped seeing him all together. You tried, for the sake of your promise to Steve, but he never answered your calls or texts.
“We’ll figure it out together, right, thanks a lot Steve,” You muttered.
You jumped at the sound of your phone ringing, and your shoulders sank a bit when you saw Sam’s name flashing across the screen, “Hey.”
“He’s doing an interview,” You knew exactly who Sam was talking about, “Good Morning America.”
Your stomach turned, “That’s the last thing I want to see.”
“I know, I just thought I’d share my joy with someone,” Sam chuckled, “Any luck with Bucky?”
“I’m just wasting my time at this point,” You could feel the tears returning to your eyes as you said it.
“Hey, come on now, he’ll come around, he just needs some time.”
“Listen, I called because we have a lead, wanna join?”
“I hate it, his stupid face plastered on every wall, it feels like he’s mocking us.”
“Don’t you start, Y/N.”
“Seriously Sam, I get that he’s the new Cap – the fake Cap, but don’t you think that this,” You gestured to the posters around you, “is excessive?”
“Shouldn’t have given up the shield.” Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice and your face heated up with anger, you hadn’t realized it was possible to feel such contrasting emotions at the same time, but here you were. You noted that his voice was a bit hoarse and wondered if he had been sick.
“Good to see you too, Buck.”
“This is wrong.”
“So is pushing away everyone who cares about you.” He finally looked at you and you saw shame glistening in those steel blue eyes.
He said nothing before turning back to Sam, “You didn’t know that was gonna happen?”
Wow, ignoring your calls was one thing, but outright ignoring you while you stood in front of him, that caused a different kind of hurt.
You stood in silence as Sam explained where the two of you were headed, trying to push away the pounding in your head, and suddenly, you found yourself in a jet sitting next to Bucky.
“You could have answered, even once. Could’ve at least let me know that you were still alive.”
“I know,” Was all he said.
“We were friends once,” Nothing, “and I still care for you.”
“Four months, a full four months and I didn’t hear a single word from you, I’m going to need more than ‘I know’.”
He sighed, “I’m sorry.”
You could tell that he meant it and didn’t know what more to say, so you got up and headed towards the open door of the plane, “I’ll catch you boys on the ground.”
You watched Sam follow, and considered helping Bucky as he fell through the trees, but you decided against it. He hurt your feelings and now you could call it even.
Super soldiers? How on earth were there more super soldiers?! You didn’t have much time to ponder on the thought as you got kicked in the face by one of them and fell off the semi – definitely should have let Tony make you a helmet like he insisted.
You flew back up only to see him dropping out of a helicopter, Fake Cap, fuck.
“Looks like you guys could use some help,” Your blood boiled at the sight of his cocky grin.
You weren’t winning, and you weren’t stupid enough to continue trying, let Steve’s knock-off take care of it.
You flew off just in time to see Bucky lying on top of Sam, the latter groaned in displeasure.
“Hey, can you gentlemen save the PDA for later?” You joked, earning a glare from both of them.
With the adrenaline slowly draining from your system, the pain from the blows you took started to set in, making you dread the trek in front of you. As if on cue, you heard a horn honking and Fake Cap pulled up next to you, “It’s 20 miles to the airport, you guys need a ride.”
“I think we’re good,” You simply stated.
“You won’t make it with that limp.”
You gave him a crude smile, “I’d rather crawl.”
They stopped and opened the door, you exchanged a look with Sam and Bucky, silently deciding to join them.
You sat between Bucky and Sam, and felt the anger and disgust radiating off of both of them with every word that was exchanged.
“Y/N Stark,” You despised the way he said your last name, like he wanted to devour you, “You are one of the original seven, I trust you know the importance of having a strong team. I’d suggest giving a word or two of advice to your friends here.”
“Did you really just compare being on a team with you two, to being on a team with the Avengers?” You glowered at him, “A word of advice Walker, you’re not Steve, you might be holding that shield, but you will never be half the Captain America that he was. So quit fucking pretending.”
“I didn’t realize Stark’s sister had such a mouth on her,” He smirked, he knew exactly what he was doing and as much as you hated to admit it, it was working, “Vicious.”
“Go to hell.”
The ride didn’t last very long after that, and you had no complaints when Bucky demanded them to stop the car.
You opened your eyes and rolled over to see Sam still asleep on the seats across from you, and Bucky was sitting on the large crate in the middle of the jet, “Not tired?”
“Nah,” He shook his head.
You pushed yourself to your feet and hopped up next to him, “You’d think they’d make those seats a bit more comfortable considering the amount of time we spend on these things.”
He chuckled and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. After a considerable pause he turned to you, “Y/N, I meant what I said earlier, I’m sorry.”
The dark bags under his eyes were a stark contrast from the beautiful blue that you were looking into, which you noted which had lost its luster. You noticed that his voice still had a bit of that hoarseness from earlier in the day, and the dots connected. You remembered how hoarse your voice used to get when you’d wake up screaming from the nightmares after particularly rough missions. You understood why he was awake, he didn’t want you and Sam to see him like that.
You nodded, “I know, I just wish – I was worried sick about you. I know it hasn’t been easy for you Buck, but we were good friends once and I miss you.”
“I wanted to call, it’s just been tough,” He admitted, and you reached over to take his hand, only to quickly pull away as Sam woke up.
“You two okay?”
“Yeah,” You both said. You wondered if Bucky’s super soldier ability allowed him to hear the way your heartbeat picked up from that brief touch.
Your mind was racing a million miles a minute, you had barely kept the tears in listening to Isaiah’s story, both out of anger and sadness. How? How did this happen? How was this man tortured, then brushed under the rug? How did no one know about it? Why the hell did Bucky keep this from you?
Sam mirrored your pained expression, but something darker lurked beneath his eyes, you couldn’t even imagine the rage he felt. The sound of a police siren pulled you out of your thoughts.
Your anger only grew at the argument that ensued, “I am calm, what do you want? We’re just standing here talking.”
“Just give him your ID,” You glared at Bucky as the words left his mouth.
“Why the hell should he? He didn’t do anything wrong!” You growled, at the same time Sam said, “I’m not giving him shit, we were just talking.”
“Hey, hey, look, is this guy bothering you?” The officer asked you and Bucky. Your eyes widened, he can’t be serious right now.
“No, he’s not bothering us, do you know who this is?!”
You couldn’t even stand to look at the guy as his jaw dropped in shock upon realizing who Sam was, you felt your body shake with anger, and you didn’t even want to think what would have happened if Sam hadn’t been an Avenger.
The officer returned from his vehicle and turned the tables, announcing that there was a warrant out for Bucky’s arrest.
Watching him being handcuffed and put into the car shattered your heart, if the events of the day hadn’t already left you feeling nauseous, you knew this would be the nail in the coffin. All you could see was Bucky on his knees with a gun to his head nearly seven year ago when Steve barely prevented T’Challa from killing him and the four of you had been arrested – Tony had been furious with you, but it was the shame in Bucky’s eyes that had hurt you the most, and here you were, witnessing it again.
You reached over a grabbed Sam’s hand and squeezed as hard as you could, desperate for a lifeline to keep you from sinking into those painful memories.
You maintained that same grip on the poor man’s hand as you sat at the police station waiting for Bucky to be bailed out, “Sam, Y/N, I’ve heard a lot about you two, I’m Dr. Raynor, I’m James’ therapist.”
The two of you shook her hand and Sam thanked her for getting Bucky out.
“That was not me –”
“Christina!” You’d recognize that voice anywhere from the way it made your skin crawl, fuck, “Good to see you again.”
You clenched your jaw to keep yourself from punching the stupid grin off of his face as he pointed to himself when Dr. Raynor asked him who authorized Bucky’s release. You knew you had a problem with constantly wanting to punch people in the face, it was a trait that ran in the family, but Walker’s face was definitely one of the most punchable ones you had seen – a good ol’ pop in the jaw wouldn’t hurt, right? Just one?
“He’s too valuable of an asset to have him tied up –”
That was it, that was all you were willing to hear, you couldn’t stop yourself from getting in his face and hissing, “Call him that again, and I swear to god Walker, I –”
Sam put his arm around you, hand pressed to your stomach and pulled you back, “Y/N.”
Walker simply smirked and turned back to Raynor, “Do what you have to do and send him off to me. Got some unfinished business, him and I, you too Wilson, and bring your guard dog with you.”
It took everything in your power to keep from snarling at him.
“James, condition of your release, session now,” The doctor ordered, “You two as well.”
“I’m good, I’ve been to enough therapy,” You shook your head, at the same time Sam said, “That’s okay, I’ll be out here with –”
“That wasn’t a request,” You couldn’t help but chuckle, and decided that you liked this woman.
You and Sam sat on either side of Bucky, facing Dr. Raynor as she got started. You couldn’t help but notice the way Bucky’s eyes shifted and jaw clenched as Sam tried to weasel his way out of the session, and your chest tightened. He looked so tired, and not just the ‘hasn’t slept in a few days’ tired, but more like he was tired of trying – he looked broken.
You decided in that moment that you would try, and not just for Steve, but for the man next to you who had held a piece of your heart before he even knew you, and managed steal that piece away when you had met him years later.
You realized how hard you’d have try when Bucky answered Dr. Raynor’s question with, “In my miracle, he would talk less.”
“Exactly what I was gonna say, isn’t that ironic?” You sighed, so hard.
She turned to you, mimicking the expression on your face, “Y/N, can I trust you to give me a proper answer?”
Try, Y/N, try. You saw a glimmer of hope in Raynor’s eyes as they met yours, but you simply shrugged and looked away, unable to bring yourself to open up, and she let her shoulders fall slightly.
“You guys are leaving me with no choice. It’s time for the soul-gazing exercise. Y/N, you can sit this one out, you get along with both of them well enough.”
You rolled your eyes at the reactions from the boys, this’ll be good. You couldn’t help but chuckle as they got closer to one another, maybe I should have taken part in this exercise. They made eye contact and continued to hold it, you realized what they were doing moments before the doctor did and let out a genuine laugh – earning a glare from Raynor, don’t encourage them she seemed to say.
“James, why does Sam aggravate you? And don’t say something childish.” Your head filled with a hundred different ideas about what stupid things Bucky would come up with, only to have them fizzle away at his cheeky grin towards the doctor, followed by the lick of his lip. It left your throat dry. Snap out of it, Y/N, what’s gotten into you?
He paused for a moment, his expression changing, and turned back to Sam, “Why’d you give of that shield?”
You held your breath, you knew this was going to come up, but weren’t expecting it here. You couldn’t take your eyes off of Bucky, noticing every change in his face, it becoming more pained with every word that left his mouth, and your chest tightening alongside it, until finally, “So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, then he was wrong about me.”
The break in his voice cracked your heart into a million pieces. You looked up, trying to keep the tears swimming in your eyes from falling. You turned your attention towards Sam and noticed the emotion behind his glassy eyes – it was different than anything you had seen in him before, it was almost as though you could see the burden he was carrying on his shoulders, the pressure that was pushing him in every direction.
I have to fix this, you told yourself, you couldn’t stand to see them like this, I have to try.
Your mind was roaring with thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed that Sam and Bucky had left until Raynor asked, “What would be in your miracle, Y/N?”
You snapped your head towards her, then to the door, you weighed your options and headed towards the latter. You grabbed the handle and stopped, without turning towards her you whispered, “I’d find a home again, and they’d find some happiness.”
You pulled the door open, “Y/N, I don’t think those two things have to be separate.”
Her words swam in your head until you found Bucky and Sam walking outside, Walker and Hoskins storming off in the other direction.
“What’s that all about?”
“Walker being Walker,” Sam shrugged.
“So, what now?”
“Bucky wants to talk to Zemo,” Every memory that you spent years trying to forget came flooding back: Zemo using those words to turn Bucky into the Winter Soldier, who then proceeded to trash the compound and nearly kill you and your friends; watching your family fight each other at the airport and being forced to pick a side; watching the footage of your parents dying; desperately begging your brother and the man who had become your brother not to kill one another.
“You what?!” You gasped.
You stepped between the two of them, close enough to Bucky that you had to tilt your head up to look into his eyes, and whispered, “Bucky, no.”
“This might be our only lead, Y/N,” You stared up at him, silently pleading him, he reflected the same in his own, “Please Y/N.”
He took your hand and you instantly melted, “I – fine, but promise me you will be careful.”
Read Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 and Part 6
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in character : b.b
whilst in madripoor, you’re forced to watch bucky fall back into being the winter soldier and the repercussions it causes (2.6k)
masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!
requested: nope - i’ve been wanting to write something based on tfatws and this came to mind!
warnings: spoilers for tfatws! mentions of violence, blood, zemo being a dick
(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)
Stepping out of the car, you can’t help yourself from tugging on the dress before Zemo moves closer. “Do you have to do that?” You sigh as he rests his hand on your waist, pulling you closer toward his side.
“You are my Baroness this evening, Y/n.” Zemo reminds you as the four of you walk through Madripoor. “Just play your part so our cover doesn’t get blown.”
Glancing over to Bucky, you wish he could say something, but he simply remains stoic.
“I’m not sure whose disguise is worse, mine or yours.” Sam states. “I’m the only one here who looks like a pimp.” He tugs on his jacket, and you nod in agreement.
“At least you’ve got a jacket,” You remark. “this dress was made from one piece of fabric, Sam.”
Beside you, Bucky resists the urge to remove his jacket and drape it over your shoulders, knowing how cold you easily get. But he knows what is at stake here, he must remain as the cold-hearted soldier, not your loving boyfriend.
As you reach the Princess Bar, Bucky walks in first followed by Sam, or tonight as the Smiling Tiger. Zemo tightens his hold on your waist as you approach the bar, noticing those stopping to look around at the four of you.
"Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?” Zemo questions in Russian, not even sparing Bucky a glance as you listen to people muttering about the Winter Soldier, causing your heart to drop.
Standing in front of the bar, the bartender walks over. “Hello gentlemen, lady,” He nods, and you force yourself to smile, hating how close Zemo is keeping you as his gloved hand begins to move across your waist. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.” He motions to Sam.
“His plans changed; we have business to do with Selby.” Zemo states, and the bartender hums before his attention averts back to you. “My Baroness, Y/n Zemo.” Zemo leans closer, kissing your cheek with a chuckle.
“Zemo, not in public.” You laugh light-heartedly, hitting his chest with more force than intended.
Seemingly unphased, the bartender glances back to Sam. “The usual?”
Within seconds, you watch a dead snake being sliced open and the evident disgust on Sam’s face. “Ah, Smiling Tiger, your favourite.” Zemo comments as the shot glass is passed to Sam with a snake’s organ diluting the liquid whilst you receive a normal shot alongside Zemo.
Both Zemo and Sam knock their shots back whilst yours remains untouched, too aware of Bucky hovering to your left, remaining silent as he observes those surrounding you all.
Yet, his stance is short-lived as his focus shifts to someone behind you. He tenses up as Zemo moves you aside, gently passing you over to Sam, ignoring your scoff before he turns to face the person in question.
“I got word from on high, you ain’t welcome here.” The man states, closing into Zemo’s space.
Remaining calm, Zemo tugs his coat. “I have no business with the power broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me or,” Sam reaches out, taking a hold of your arm to stop you from interfering as Zemo turns to Bucky.
“New haircut?” The man remarks, but Bucky doesn’t answer as he tries not to acknowledge the subtle panic rising in your eyes.
“Or, bring Selby for a chat.” Zemo cuts back into the man’s face, only for him to turn away and leave you all be.
Tugging yourself from Sam’s arm, you pick up the shot glass and knock it back. “Shit.” You sigh to yourself.
“The power broker? Really?” Bucky asks bluntly, sparing you and Sam a glance as Zemo holds his hand out for you to take it.
Intertwining your fingers with his, Zemo guides you back to his side. “Every kingdom needs a king.” He shrugs, lifting his free hand up as he brushes your hair out of your face, ignoring the note of disgust forming on your lips.
As the trio continue conversing about the Power Broker, you allow your eyes to wander around, only to notice a series of men forming from the crowds of those dancing, all heading in your direction.
Tapping Zemo, he’s already noticed, forcing you to stand behind him. “This isn’t for a Baroness to see.” He whispers. “Winter Soldier?” The words leave his lips in Russian, those you know so well that break your heart as Bucky stands up tall.
You watch over Zemo’s shoulder as a man stretches his arm out, reaching for you. “Attack.” Zemo mutters, and within a split-second Bucky grabs a hold of the man's arm and forces him backwards.
Zemo keeps you blocked in behind him as Bucky glances back with his jaw clenched, aware of the man grunting in pain. A crowd begins to form, and torches shine from their phones as Bucky throws the man effortlessly to the ground.
You try to push forward, but Zemo holds you back, listening to him laugh at the actions before him.
Another man tries to come for Bucky, only to be swiftly thrown aside into another man. “Please,” You plead with Zemo, but he simply throws another man into the mix for Bucky to fight. “stop.” You look over to Sam as tears form in your eyes, watching Bucky having to turn into someone he no longer is, after all the trauma, the nightmares, the heartache, and years of accepting himself, it only took Zemo to come back for this to all fall apart.
Bucky carries on as that familiar darkness ignites in his eyes, he’s zoning out from himself, allowing his muscle memory to do the work.
“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” Zemo tells Sam who watches with a stiff glare.
“You’re a monster,” You mutter to Zemo, wishing to shut out the horrors taking place before you.
Lifting a man from the ground, Bucky grabs his neck before slamming him into the bar beside you. Zemo steps back, causing you to stumble before regaining yourself. “Ja-” You start to speak up, but Zemo quickly turns on his heels and rests his hand on your chin, pulling you closer.
“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us, dear.” Zemo mutters into your lips before releasing you and averts his attention back to Bucky with a smile on his face. “Well done, soldier.” Zemo pats Bucky’s arm, but his grip remains tight around the man’s neck as he gasps for air.
“Selby will see you now.” The bartender speaks up, and slowly Bucky lowers the man to the ground as he coughs violently for air.
“Come, dear,” Zemo takes your hand in his despite your attempt at keeping your fist closed, not allowing you to look back as tears stain your cheeks.
Leading the way, you follow behind Zemo.
“Are you okay?” You mutter under your breath, hearing Bucky behind you. Habit takes over as you hold your hand out for him, but Bucky simply stares at it, watching you lower it back to your side.
“You should know Baron,” Selby starts as you all walk into a large room, avoiding the harsh eyes of the men guarding the four corners of the walls. “people don’t just come into my bar making demands.” She states, glancing up as Zemo flashes his signature smile. “You brought a new one I see.”
“My Baroness.” Zemo speaks up. “She’s a quiet thing,” He runs his fingers along your cheeks, Selby seemingly enjoying the show. “but she can be loud when she wants to.”
You couldn’t help but zone out as Zemo patted the spot beside him on the sofa whilst he continued to discuss business with Selby. It was all going smoothly until Sam’s phone began to ring.
Bucky could hear your heart beginning to race in your chest as Selby rose to her feet, stalking toward Sam demanding he put his phone on speaker. That was when the plan fell through as Sarah called Sam by name, and then all hell broke loose.
“Kill them,” Selby demands from her men as they creep toward the four of you, only pausing at the sight of a bullet striking through the window, hitting Selby in the chest.
“Shit.” You mutter as an arm reaches out to grab you, yet you manage to grab their gun before knocking the butt into their face and run toward the door.
Taking your hand in his, Bucky guides you out with Sam down a long corridor. “Stay close, and don’t let go.” Bucky demands you, his voice remaining stern as he tightens his grasp around your hand.
“I can’t run in these damn heels.” Sam yells over the ricocheting of bullets as you run through the streets, Zemo now close behind.
“Yeah, well neither can I, Wilson!” You scream back before something hits your arm, faltering your steps as you cry out in pain.
“Y/n?” Bucky tugs you into his arms as you wince, noticing blood dripping down your upper arm. “It’s just a graze, doll.” He tries to comfort you, knowing this isn’t the time to stop. “Come on doll, not much further.” Bucky lifts you up into his arms, hearing you groan in a mixture of annoyance and pain.
“Of course, she got hurt.” Zemo scoffs as the four of you find an alleyway to hide out in for a short while.
“Drop it Zemo.” A voice pitches in, a gun cocking in their grip.
Turning around, you blink rapidly to make out the figure as she lowers her hood. “Sharon?”
“Come on, I’ve got something you can change into,” Sharon motions for you to follow her.
“Thank god,” You sigh in relief, tugging on the dress for the last time to keep some of your decency. “I’ve never wanted to be out of anything so badly in my life.” You joke, looking over your shoulder to see Bucky’s gaze glued to the ground, his fingers remain interlocked.
Standing in a bedroom, Sharon lays out some options for you. “I saw what happened back there,” She speaks up. “you gave Zemo a run for his money, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah,” You breathe out. “I just,” You pause, unsure of what words are trying to leave your lips.
Sharon moves closer, resting her hand on your shoulder. “It’s not meant to be easy, seeing someone you love do something that hurts them.” She explains.
Nodding along, you tug on the knife you kept buried in your boot. “I wanna kill him,” Shifting your gaze to the closed door, you can only imagine him out there with that smug look across his face, knowing how much damage he’s caused simply for the fun of it.
Sharon chuckles, lowering your hand. “Get in line, Y/n. But for now, get changed, I’ve got a party to host and answers to gain.”
“Thanks,” You mutter as Sharon closes the door, allowing you some privacy whilst you slip out of the dress and traipse towards the full-length mirror.
Grabbing the trousers, you pull them on and button them up and reach for the shirt, but you pause at the sight of the bullet graze across your arm, taking some time to notice the damage it’s caused.
“You really should cover that up,” A voice comments from the doorway, causing you to drop the shirt from your grasp. Chuckling softly, you focus on his reflection, noticing his head still hanging low. “don’t want you bleedin’ out on me.” Bucky jokes, now entering the room and shuts the door behind him as he leans against it.
“Think it’s too badass?” You raise a brow as you turn on your heels, now facing him properly for the first time since you arrived at Sharon’s place.
“Something like that,” He mutters, moving toward the bed. “listen, Y/n,” Bucky’s voice remains soft. “what happened back there, I,”
“You don’t have to explain yourself, James.” The words leave your lips too soon as Bucky retreats from you, watching your hand reach for his, only to see himself pulling away. “It was ‘part of Zemo’s big plan.” You huff in sheer annoyance. “I swear I’ll punch him if he pulls another stunt like that, or worse.”
Looking out of the corner of his eyes, Bucky smirks to himself at the glare crossing your usually loving gaze. “Sometimes I just feel like I’m giving in,” Bucky thinks aloud, still working on how to talk about these things outside of the four walls of Doctor Raynor’s office. Despite how much he dislikes being there, it provides some sense of security. “to who I used to be, to being, him.” He slowly explains, knowing you’ll always listen no matter how long it sometimes takes.
“The Winter Soldier is gone, James.” You remind him, now sitting beside him. “You’re not him anymore, and what he did, that wasn’t your fault.”
“But it was me, Y/n.” Bucky firmly states, now meeting your gaze with clouded vision. “I still did those things, I still can.” He can’t help but crumble, the strong exterior he’s had to keep up around everyone until now disappears before your very eyes.
“Oh, James.” You whisper, lifting your hand up to cradle his cheek.
Falling into your hand with ease, tears fall from Bucky’s eyes as he rests his hand on yours, sliding it down to kiss the palm of your hand softly. “I did it back there, I lost control.” He mutters, catching glimpses of those around him every time he blinks and the sight of his fist colliding with another stranger’s body before the impact could hit.
“You didn’t lose control, James.” You try to assure him, but the quiet scoff leaving his lips says otherwise. “I know you didn’t, you were protecting us, and you snapped out of it instantly. He couldn’t have done that now, could he?” Bucky slowly shakes his head, taking your hand from his cheek as he holds it in his hand, keeping it on his lap.
“I was protecting you.” Bucky speaks up. “I’ll always do it, if it means protecting you.”
A whispered laugh gets caught in your lips as you climb onto Bucky’s lap, wrapping your free arm around his neck. “You don’t have to protect me,” You try to assure him, running your fingers through his short hair as he hums momentarily, allowing his eyes to close. “but I appreciate the offer, Barnes. Might have to take you up on it if Zemo ever makes me be his Baroness again.” You shudder against Bucky at the mere thought.
“Don’t worry, doll,” Bucky breathes out, his metal arm resting around your waist, tugging you closer into his embrace. “you’re mine and mine alone, charade or not.” His voice deepens as he breathes his sentence into your ear.
“Well,” You clear your throat as his lips hover over yours, his blue eyes catching the neon lights outside. “I’m glad you clarified that.” You chuckle before kissing him softly, his lips delicately parting yours as he brings his flesh hand to your cheek, holding it gently before deepening the kiss.
As he pulls away, a quiet moan escapes your lips. “I love you, Y/n.” Bucky pecks your lips as his fingers caress over your cheek.
“And I you, James.” You smile, only to hear a knock on the door and Sam peers in, only to sigh at the sight of you both.
“If you two are done goin’ at it like rabbits, we’ve got a party to attend.” He remarks before closing the door behind him.
Burying your face into Bucky’s neck, your laughter tickles against his neck. “Let’s get you dressed, doll.” Bucky mutters, helping you to your feet, knowing Sam’s patience won’t last much longer.
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