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alohastyles-x · 26 days

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𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚂𝚗𝚘𝚠 - 2

A Dark Disney Retelling of Snow White and the Huntsman ft. The Winter Soldier as The Huntsman.

Dark Disney Retellings Masterlist | Synopsis | Part 1

Warnings: This story will contain graphic descriptions of torture, violence and gore, possible smut scenes (undecided), cursing, brief mentions of reader being nearly emaciated as a result of torture.

Wordcount: 3.5 k

Note: Part 2 is here!! I may edit this a little later down the road, tbh im not quite sure how im feeling with it, so feedback is greatly appreciated!

IT was a small village in the northern woods that had found you that morning, crumpled in a fetal position at the base of a tree. The loggers had started their morning early, venturing into the woods by light of lamp, axes in tow. The morning sun had just begun to rise, casting an orange glow among the snowy ground.

Your skin had finally stitched itself together, leaving you riddled with fresh scars. You had fled the compound the way you had been kept, naked, which had led to your near demise now. Shivering as the cold took over, you had crawled over to the tree you laid at now, attempting to preserve whatever warmth you had left.

The loggers had entered the clearing of the tree you called home for the night. When one of the loggers noticed you, he laid his ax down.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, taking in your battered frame. There were no other words exchanged, no questions asked, as the men picked up your cold, nearly lifeless body, and returned to the village. You would be safe there, they decided, amongst their families.

The wives took pity on you quickly, taking you into their homes. They washed you up, sewed you a new wardrobe, and cooked you a feast every night.

None of the villagers asked where you had come from, or what had happened. They just accepted you into their lives, into their families, without hesitation.

You were beyond grateful for their grace towards you. Quickly, you found yourself acclimated into their routines.

Every morning you awoke to do your daily chores. You bounced from house to house, helping the wives as needed with their cleaning and laundry. It was a simple life, but one you needed.

At night, you continued some of your exercises from the compound. It was a skill, after all, and a valuable one at that. You knew better than to assume you were safe from Hydra completely.

On this night one of the loggers, Kristoff, found you. You were in the middle of hunting a squirrel. The test was to catch a small and agile target. If you could catch it, you succeeded. If not, you failed.

Kristoff stood behind a thick tree, watching as you moved silently over the leaves on the forest floor. You struck, catching the squirrel without any flinching of the creature. The ultimate predator hunting a clueless prey.

“Where did you come from?” Kristoff finally asked, catching you off guard. You whirled around, squirrel still in hand. The little guy didn’t even squeak as you held him, almost as if he could sense your intentions were to simply catch and release.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t see you there.” You whispered, setting the squirrel down. He stayed put for a minute, looking up at you, before scampering off.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to intrude… that was just impressive,” Kristoff complimented, scratching his beard. Kristoff was the one who had originally found you. He hadn’t spoken to you much since, mostly just in passing. He was the only single logger in the town, refusing to settle for any of the maidens in nearby towns, or so the wives had told you.

“I come from a place that I do not wish to go back to, I can tell you that much,” you responded, offering him a gentle smile.

“Are they the ones who gave you all those scars?” His accent was thick, different from the ones you heard at the Hydra camp. He was gentle and firm at the same time, both in his demeanor and his voice.

“Yes.”

“And you… escaped?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” He had concluded his interrogation, having all the information he seemed to have needed. At this point he had stepped closer, until he was right in front of you. His buff frame blocked the moonlight that shined through the trees.

The silence was deafening as he stood ever so close to you. The night air was cold, but there was a heat erupting between the two of you. His hand lifted to brush some hair out of your face, before trailing down your cheek and under your chin.

“You’re safe here.” Was all he said, before releasing your chin and turning to head back to the village.

You released the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Kristoff was a good looking man, that was a fact you couldn’t deny, but you knew you wouldn’t stay in this village forever. A relationship was the last thing on your mind.

Turning, you scanned the forest for the next target for you to chase. The forest was quiet now, a type of still that signaled to you something was wrong. You knelt, feeling the dirt beneath the leaves. A faint vibration could be felt. Someone was attempting to sneak up on you. Slowly, you moved for the knife tucked in your boot. You never went into the woods unprotected, but arms weren’t exactly something the loggers had on hand. They were a peaceful community, relying on their knife work and brute frames for protection.

A faint woosh buzzed your ear as a bullet flew past, landing in the tree in front of you. Without turning to see where it came from - or who it belonged to - you took off into the woods. Dodging silent bullets and various woodland obstacles, you gained a head on your attacker. There was a cave just ahead you could hide in, as long as you threw him off your path.

Shedding your coat, you threw it on the floor of the woods, appearing to have headed east back towards the village. It would throw off a novice or even intermediate tracker. You dove into the cave, crawling as far back from the light of the entrance as you could.

You realized immediately this was no novice tracker. Their footsteps were soon heard near the entrance of the cave. Holding your breath, you watched as your attacker moved closer and closer. Something about his appearance - the bottom half you could see at least - looked familiar. As he drew further from the entrance, taking in his surroundings, your breath hitched in your throat.

At first, it was the moon bouncing off what you thought was his gun… no. It appears he had ditched the gun further back in the woods. The moon appeared to have been hitting his arm… his metal arm.

The mask was the next thing that caused you concern. You were shown this mask every night. It haunted your dreams for months.

The Winter Soldier.

This is what you were trained for, You reminded yourself, staring down The Winter Soldier who had now noticed the cave.

You shifted silently into a crouched position, knife in hand, ready for him to ascend on you. His moves were slow, calculated, waiting for you to pounce. He must have been watching you in the woods on your hunt. You knew better, staying put exactly where you were. His build intimidated you. He was most definitely twice your size.

You can do this. Remember your training, you said to yourself, as he began to creep closer.

He was just steps away from the entrance. It was now or never. You lunged, slicing him right to the bone in his calf. If he was anything like the stories, you knew he would heal quickly. You weren’t expecting the grunt that erupted from him, as the pain took over.

Rolling out of your kneeling position, you stood, encircling him like a predator. He imitated your every move. It was like a dance. When you lunged, he stepped back, dodging your knife, your fist, whatever you came at him with. He was not a silent fighter, grunting and groaning anytime you struck him. Maybe this was why Hydra was so insistent you were trained to keep silent.

It was in this thought he caught you, grabbing hold of your wrist and twisting. You caught your breath, breathing through the pain of the tendons twisting. You threw the knife, catching it in your other hand and lunging forward despite the pain.

He blocked your attack, hitting you in the side hard enough to send you flying. You landed on the forest floor with a thud that reverberated through your bones. The air left your lungs, making it harder for you to move backwards as The Winter Soldier began marching towards you. Everything about him was militant, even his stealth.

He leered over you, watching you like the meek prey you felt like in this moment. You attempted to shuffle away from him, but it was no use. His hand came down on your throat, squeezing just enough to hold you still. His knife dug into the binding of your corset, ripping through the tight stitching, until the blade met your skin. Your silence shocked him. There wasn’t even a gasp for air as you maneuvered yourself to your backup knife tucked in its sheath against your thigh.

Blood pooled out around your corset and onto the pale yellow of your dress, mixing with the mud and dirt. The Winter Soldier twisted the knife more, confused as to how you were still moving, still silent, despite the pain he was inflicting upon you. Clearly, they hadn’t filled him in on who he was up against.

Your knife found the exposed side of his suit, striking over and over until he let go. He stood, unfazed by the knife wounds. You stumbled to stand up, ready to fight again despite your struggle to find solid ground.

Breathe. Breathe. You repeated to yourself, the mantra making it easier to steady yourself.

He lunged, his knife coming in contact with your cheek at your lousy attempt to dodge it. Blood trickled out and down from the wound that had already prepared to stitch itself back up. You caught his wrist during his second strike, pulling him closer until your noses were damn near touching.

You struck him right in the stomach, making him grunt loudly. You let go of his wrist, as he stumbled over a rock, falling flat on his face. Taking this opportunity, you moved him over to straddle him, taking the fabric from the bow on your dress off in one swift movement. You capture his wrists, bringing them above his head and tying them together.

It was a record how fast you had gotten the Winter Soldier immobilized. In another quick second you had pried his mask off. You wanted to see his face. If only Hydra could see you now. He looked up at you, a mixture of shock and another emotion you couldn’t make out written all over his face. He was scared- which was an emotion The Winter Soldier was trained to not feel. Someone else was in him entirely, you discovered. But for now he was still The Winter Soldier; he was still a threat.

“What do you want from me?” You asked, holding your knife right at his throat.

“To return you,” he answered. It was a struggle to get the words out. You felt a sense of accomplishment at this.

“Return me to who? To Hydra? Hah!” You couldn’t help the maniacal laugh that escaped you. His eyes only widened at this, the mixture of blood and dirt smeared on your face only making you appear more unhinged.

“Of course they sent you. Don’t you see, this is just a test. To see if my training was successful.” Rage fueled through you like a gasoline fire. He had no idea why he was sent here, or who you were.

“What do you mean?” His blue eyes shone brighter as he talked. He was genuinely confused, banking on the edge of someone else's consciousness.

“They trained me to be better than you, солдат. To replace you. They sent you after me on a death mission, because they knew I outrank you.” You responded, referring to him by his title, soldier.

The Winter Soldier didn’t look all that convinced. In fact, he looked at you like you were crazy. It was all a distraction. You failed, despite your training, to take notice of his fingers, which were working silently and quickly at the knot on his wrists. In two quick seconds, he had undone the fabric, flipping you over and confiscating the knife. He held it to your throat, his other hand gripping your wrists above your head.

“Now who outranks who? You have no idea what you are talking about крыса, you are a spy.” He said gruffly, pointing the knife deeper against your throat. Yet another trickle of blood ran down your skin.

“What?!” You asked bewildered, recognizing the name he called you from the camp. Rat.

“They told me dead or alive. I have no problem returning you in pieces.” The harshness in his voice made you stop. You couldn’t help the fear that took over, your blood running cold at the thought of the Winter Soldier tearing you to shreds. He now had the control, and there was no way you could win, not like this. You looked up at him, your eyes softening as his blues began to lighten. Someone was trying to break through. The Winter Soldier was breaking right in front of you, this was why they were training you.

As he looked down at you, a barrier broke in his psyche. He hesitated, pulling the knife back slightly, loosening his grip on your wrists. It allowed you the smallest window of time to grab the rock just above your fingertips, and smash it over his head. He fell instantly, his head slumping into your shoulder, the knife falling beneath you.

Using your strength you had regained by helping the loggers over the past few months, you rolled him off of you and sat up. You grabbed the knife and tucked it back in your boot before moving to The Winter Soldier. You strippeed him of his weapons, setting them in the cave.

During your training you had heard them talk about the methods of the current Winter Soldier. You had heard the trigger words, the wiping of his memory, the data they had on him. There was a good chance he would wake up his normal self. So you waited.

Dawn had rolled into the forest by the time he stirred. You stood instantly, waiting for him to come too. His eyes slowly opened, taking in the forest floor, the leaves, the tall trees above him. Panic flooded through him as he sat, instantly trying to figure out where he was but most importantly, what he had done.

His eyes fell to you, to all the blood that coated your face, dress, and skin. To the knife gleaming in your hand. He tried his hardest to recall what happened, but it was to no avail.

“Please…” he begged, catching you off guard. “What happened? Who are you?”

“You… you don’t remember?”

“No.”

“Who are you?” You asked skeptically. You had no idea the name of his original self.

“James. James Bucahnon Barnes. My friends call me Bucky.” He answered. His eyes were a little bluer than they were before, his demeanor a little weaker. You recognized the hue of blue… this was the person who hesitated.

“Okay James… Why did you come for me?”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t even know where I am.”

“I know who you are солдат. You don’t have to play dumb with me.”

Bucky looked at you, letting out a sigh of defeat. He looked exhausted and in pain. You knew it couldn’t have been the stab wounds, they were already healed by now, scarred over.

“Does it hurt? The switch?” You asked, kneeling to be on his level. He looked at you quizzically.

“From The Winter Soldier to yourself?”

He was hesitant to answer. He still had no idea who you were. He remained silent, looking around for any sign of water. You watched him as he stood, turning around to take in his surroundings. His hair was longer, falling just around his eyes. In the daylight he looked less intimidating. He was big, but right now he just looked lost. A shell of his former self.

He took off down the hill, and you followed. He was headed towards the creek that ran through the woods.

“Don’t drink that,” you called out after him. He stopped in his tracks, looking back towards you.

“The water is unsanitary down here. If you want clean water and some food, you should follow me to the village. They’re safe people. They took me in without any question.” You offered, fidgeting with your dress. Bucky hesitated once more, debating on if he could trust you. He had recognized the hilt on the knife you had held- a Hydra emblem carved into it. He didn’t know who you were or where you came from, but he assumed he could trust you for now.

He nodded and followed you back up the hill.

When you arrived at the village, the loggers stood at the entrance, as if they had been waiting for you. You cursed under your breath as you realized they probably were. By now, they were supposed to be an hour into their day, but noticing you weren’t there probably worried them. Especially Kristoff, who stood front and center, a look of worry etched in his features.

“Where were you? Are you okay? What the hell happened?” Kristoff exclaimed, as you appeared out of the treeline. You forgot about the blood dried all over you, and the mysterious man in tow didn’t help.

“I’m okay, I promise,” you said, allowing his arms to grip the sides of your arms, holding your steady.

“Who's your friend?”

“This is Bucky, I invited him back here to freshen up.”

Kristoff didn’t believe you, the look on his face said it all. But he stood back, allowing for Bucky to move forward into the village. He moved hesitantly, taking in his surroundings.

The village was small, with cabin style houses. There was a covered common area in the middle where the families joined for dinner, before separating into their respective houses for the night. It was a tight knit community. One you felt Bucky might really need at this moment.

“Go get cleaned up dear, we’ll help him.” One of the wives, Anneleise, offered. Bucky stilled, not a fan of the idea.

“It’s okay, thank you Anneleise, but I think I should be the one to help him.” Anneleise nodded, handing you the extra towels.

You led Bucky to the cabin you stayed in. It had been abandoned after the previous owner passed from old age. It had been waiting for you, like fate.

“There’s a shower back here,” you pointed to the one bathroom nestled in the corner of the cabin. You handed him the towels. He paused, still hesitant to do anything.

“Look, I don’t know much, but here's what I do know: I escaped a Hydra camp where they were training me to be a better you. I found this village, who accepted me, scars and all, without hesitation. They are removed from the world to every extent. They hunt their own food, clean their own water, make their own clothes, everything. They attend a market in a nearby small town to sell their wood and that's it. I can only assume Hydra sent you to kill me- but in reality they know I can’t be killed. They made sure of that in my training. They wanted you to bring me back, so they could continue making me you. That's why you were after me.”

Bucky stared at you with so much empathy, it made you want to puke. You scoffed, pushing the towels into his hands and pushing him towards the shower.

“Go clean up,” you demanded. He gave a curt nod, before turning towards the bathroom.

Sighing, you unlaced the corset that was bound around your waist- now ruined by Bucky’s knife work. You placed it gently on the chair in the corner of the room, before undoing the dress. There was no way you could get the blood out of such a light color.

“Damn it, this was my favorite too.” You whispered, while grabbing a longer tight knit shirt to throw on for the time being.

You threw a few logs into the fireplace, lighting a fire. It was a chilly spring day, and the fire roared to life immediately, answering your prayers for warmth.

“Where are my weapons?” Bucky asked, emerging from the bathroom. He was still fully clothed and dirty.

“I hid them for now. Until we figure out what to do next.” You turned back to the fire, poking at it absentmindedly.

“How can I trust you?” Bucky whispered. It came out strangled. He was struggling to process this. You turned slowly, allowing him to assess your every move.

“I will not hurt you unless I have to. You are safe here so long as you are James Buchanon Barnes.”

It seemed to be enough reassurance for him, as he turned to head towards the bathroom once more.

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#the winter soldier x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x you #The Winter Soldier x you #<33333 #alohastylesx #marvel #alohastylesx works #Bucky Barnes Fic #The Winter Soldier Fic #Marvel Fic #Bucky Barnes fanfic #The Winter Solider Fanfic

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chvoswxtch · 1 year

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let me let you go

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader, slight peter parker x fem!reader

summary: years have passed since bucky barnes broke your heart, but what happens after he shows up when you're finally on the cusp of moving on?

warnings: cursing, LOTS of angst, bucky being an ass, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 7.4k

a/n: fun fact: this was the first fic I ever wrote, but was too scared to post it. it's a dumpster fire that's been sitting in my drafts FOREVER. I wrote this with andrew garfield's peter parker in mind, but feel free to read this with the spidey of your choosing! yes taylor is based off taylor swift, don't come for me. no one helps you through a heartbreak like blondie. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

Have you ever been hit with such an intense gust of emotion, it knocks the breath out of you? Do you know what it’s like to truly be rendered breathless? I used to think that was an exaggeration for theatrics. In books and movies, when someone claims to be “breathless”, it always felt like a gesture from someone with a flair for dramatics. Which arguably, I was.

When I was in kindergarten, I fell from the monkey bars. I convinced myself it was only ten bars across, and not that high off the ground. All I had to do was keep my head up. All the other kids could do it, so why couldn’t I? I made it to bar three when my fingers slipped and I fell flat on my back. I got that nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach as I was falling, and as I hit the ground beneath me, it was like the impact of the fall had forced out my last breath. I couldn’t breathe. I started to panic, which made it even worse. I remember a group of kids circling around me, staring. I must have looked like a fish out of water, eyes bulging and gasping for air. It wasn’t long before a set of large, weathered hands grabbed me by the shoulders to lift me up.

“You’re alright, kiddo. Just got the wind knocked out of ya, that’s all. Here, have a seat. Want me to call your mom? Or are you gonna be tough, kiddo?”

My kindergarten gym teacher wasn’t exactly gifted in the nurturing department, but he challenged me to be tough, and I wasn’t going to look like a baby in front of my whole class. Also if I had told my mom, she wouldn’t have let me go near the playground during recess for the foreseeable future. I never tried to do the monkey bars again, but I also never forgot what that feeling was like. For the next twenty or so years, I tried to evade any situation that could conjure that feeling again, and I was nearly successful.

Until I saw him again.

It had been two years. Two, very long years since I had seen him in person. I was enjoying myself at an overly crowded Christmas party, sipping on a chilled flute of Prosecco and scanning the crowd for any indication of what direction my best friend had wandered off in, when a pair of familiar steel blue eyes captured my attention. I had to blink several times to make sure I wasn’t imagining him. A twisted apparition conjured from deep within my subconscious. A shock jolted through me and I froze, all of a sudden feeling too exposed amongst the condensed crowd. I didn’t want him to see me. I got that intrusive feeling of nausea in the pit of my stomach, like I was falling again. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even hardly breathe. The emerald velvet dress I was wearing suddenly felt suffocating and heat spread a mile a second all over my body. As soon as I found my footing, I dashed towards one of the balconies to escape into the relief of December in New York City.

I could hardly feel the snow flurries that made a temporary home across my thighs. I couldn’t even hear the party inside over the relentless pounding in my chest that echoed in my ears. My throat felt so dry that I downed the last of my drink in a flash and felt it starting to bubble around in my lower stomach. I had worked so hard on myself the past year to get over him, to convince myself that I was over him. I had almost fooled myself. I didn’t cry anymore when I heard someone mention his name. I didn’t feel an ache in my chest when I happened to see a photo of him on tv or scrolling through my phone. I didn’t break down when I discovered another lingering piece of him in my apartment. I hadn’t even thought about him for months. But one look at him, and a tsunami of nostalgia crashed over me mercilessly. Everything came rushing back and I felt imprisoned beneath the debris.

Rather than feeling sad, I was mostly fueled with anger. Who the hell did he think he was, showing up at MY best friend’s Christmas party? He knew I would be here. Two years of radio silence, and he decides to show up out of the blue, like nothing had ever happened. Maybe he doesn’t realize I’m here. He clearly completely forgot that I even existed to him. My anger slowly dissipated into melancholia at that thought. I hadn’t forgotten him. No matter how hard I tried to. I remembered everything.

I remembered the way he made me feel the first time he smiled at me and offered his hand. I remembered how he liked his coffee. I remembered the little creases that formed on his forehead and the way he poked his tongue out between his lips when he was concentrating really hard on something. I remembered how warm his body was when he held me as close as physically possible every night. I remembered every kiss he pressed to my forehead in the mornings when he thought I was still sleeping. I remembered holding his head against my chest when he had a nightmare, coaxing him back into a peaceful slumber with my heartbeat and gentle words. I remembered tracing all of his scars with my lips, the dizzying sensation of a cold trail being left by metal fingers on my skin only to be soothed by the warmth of his flesh hand. I remembered when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, and I was made painfully, but delectably, aware just how much stamina came with being a super soldier. I remembered the way his eyes crinkled and closed when he laughed with his entire chest. I remembered dancing around the kitchen to Frank Sinatra in the middle of the night, when we dreamed about our futures together and talked about what we would name our kids. But mostly, I remembered the night he took all of it back without a second thought, just a half-assed excuse, and left me to pick up all the pieces. Alone.

I’ve always been a very independent person. I’ve never felt like I could truly ever depend on anyone except myself. I didn’t think I would ever let go and let myself ever rely on another person. But I did with him. I broke all my own rules. I couldn’t sleep if he wasn’t in bed with me. I didn’t know what to do with myself if he wasn’t around. I didn’t know who else to call for emergencies, or to reach something on a high shelf. I built a home within him, and when it was all ripped away, I didn’t recognize myself. This person that had become so needy and so desperate for someone else’s affection, so recklessly vulnerable. I didn’t know if I would ever get back to myself again. And just when I felt like she was still there, just within reach, it all came crashing down like a house of cards.

Ten minutes ago I was a girl filled with renewed hope. I was happy with who I was becoming, and where my life was going. I was in New York City with my best friend, a city I’ve always adored and dreamed of calling home. I was admiring how beautiful everything was decorated for Christmas time, and how bright all the lights seemed to shine. I was beginning to believe in magic again, and I was finding it in little places. Looking down on the street beneath me, I envied the people below. Their ex-boyfriend hadn’t just walked into their best friend’s Christmas party looking like he stepped off a fucking runway and ruined their entire evening. Their evenings were still happy and full of magic.

“Aren’t you cold out here?”

That voice dragged me out of my daze, and I was immediately unpleasantly aware of just how cold it was outside. My fingers felt like they were frozen in place wrapped around the champagne glass. I didn’t have to turn around to know who that voice belonged to. I would recognize it anywhere.

“No.”

I could hear the snow crunching beneath his stupid fancy shoes, his voice a little clearer now that he was getting closer. A breathy chuckle sounded in the back of his throat and it made my stomach flip.

“You do realize I know you better than that, right? You’re telling me a girl that insists on wearing fuzzy socks in the summertime isn’t freezing out here in a dress like…that.”

I don’t know if it was the alcohol that gave me liquid courage or the anger that began to seethe in my stomach, but I had the intense urge to turn and slap the stupid smirk off his face I knew was plastered right across his mouth. I always wondered what would happen when I saw him again. How I would feel, what I would do, what he would do.

Inhaling a deep breath to steady my nerves, I carefully turned my head. I tried my hardest to tame my facial features when I stared at him, trying to appear indifferent. I didn’t want him to know how affected I was by his presence. My treasonous eyes couldn’t help quickly wandering up and down his form though, and I couldn’t deny to myself how good he looked in that black suit. His hair was a little longer than when I had last seen him, and there was dark stubble coating his sharp jawline. He still wore the same cologne I loved, and the scent seemed to fill the air around me. It was intoxicating.

“Actually, you don’t know me. Not anymore. Second of all, there’s nothing wrong with my dress. If I want to wear a dress like this, I will, and I don’t need back handed comments from someone who’s opinion doesn’t matter. Third of all, who the fuck invited you?”

The sly smirk he initially wore quickly disappeared into a stony frown. That clearly wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. I took pride in the displeased look on his face. Emitting a deep sigh through his nose, he took another step forward and slid both of his hands into his pockets along with a light shrug.

“Sam brought me as his plus one.”

Tilting my head back, I rolled my eyes and let out a dry laugh. He hated when I rolled my eyes, so I made it extra dramatic. I traded the champagne flute into my other hand and attempted to fix the front of my dress where it had ridden up my thighs, not missing the way his eyes instantly dropped to watch my movements.

“Of course he fucking did. Traitor.”

“Are we really gonna do this? Are you really gonna act like this right now? Can’t you be a little more mature, doll?”

I couldn’t help the laugh that bellowed from my chest, wearing a smile that surely looked maniacal. His cavalier attitude was quickly wearing down the limited patience I had with his presence.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Be more “mature”? Fuck you, James. What did you expect from me, huh? Did you think you could just show up after all this time and I would smile and welcome you with open fucking arms? I know you’re not that stupid. But if you truly believed that, just know that the disappointment you feel isn’t even an ounce of the disappointment I felt realizing you were not the man I thought you were.”

There was a glimmer of betrayal in his eyes and I knew my venomous words had stung him. But he deserved it. I knew for a fact my words didn’t hurt nearly as bad as his had. He hated it when I called him by his full name, something I usually reserved for when I was angry with him. I couldn’t believe he had the audacity to call me immature. One of the bullshit excuses he gave me when we broke up was that our age difference was too much. It took almost two years for our ages to be “too much”. It was never a problem until he made it a problem. I knew that wasn’t really the reason as soon as the words left his mouth. I knew he was lying. I knew he was grasping at straws for a reason to give up that didn’t make him look like an asshole. I knew there was something he wasn’t telling me. Or maybe he just picked a reason because he didn’t actually have one, and saying I was immature was more gentle than admitting he didn’t love me anymore. That was an internal debate I was not getting into again.

I didn’t give him a chance to answer before heading back inside towards the party, hunting for the culprit of my now ruined night. It wasn’t hard to spot Sam in the crowd since he was usually the life of the party, all bright eyes and charming smiles. Under any other circumstances, I would’ve been elated to see him. It had been months since I had seen Sam, and I had missed having him around so much. But Sam and Bucky were a package deal. They were partners now which meant wherever Sam was, Bucky wasn’t far behind. I couldn’t go visit Sam when he was home because Bucky was there. I couldn’t call Sam when he was away because Bucky and his goddamn super hearing were either right beside him or in the next room. Losing Bucky had meant losing Sam too. Before the rational part of my brain could take over, I was standing in front of him and harshly pulling him down by his striped tie to be down closer to my level.

“Samuel. Tell me you didn’t invite James as your plus one so I don’t have a reason to hit you.”

“Man, you know how hard it is to be a child of divorce? I always gotta choose between you two. It ain’t fair. We all got the same friends, you know. It was bound to happen. Don’t mean you gotta place all the blame on me for it, Y/N/N.”

“Yes, it was probably bound to happen at some point. But you made it happen now. And you didn’t even warn me!”

“Because I thought you wouldn’t care! Look, you were the one saying that you had gotten over everything. That you were cool now. So, I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Y/N come on, you can’t avoid Bucky forever. Besides, I thought you’d be too distracted by your date to even notice he was here.”

“What date?”

Both Sam and I turned our heads towards Bucky’s voice, but his icy gaze seemed to be only fixated on me. That same glimmer of betrayal flickered against the steel blue of his eyes. Even after decades of training to perfect a poker face, anger was the one emotion his features always seemed to give away.

“None of your business. Look Sam, can you just keep a short leash on your guest. This is a party, but I’m still working. I don’t need you two shitheads making a scene. I don’t care if you are Captain America and the Winter Soldier. You ruin tonight for me, and there will not be a planet in any neighboring solar system you can hide on. And he is not my date.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Y/N/N. Don’t worry, I’ll keep Buck company.”

I didn’t even dare look at Bucky after Sam’s comment, but my cheeks were as red as the ruby ornaments decorated across the grand Christmas tree in the corner of the room. Bucky always struggled with jealousy, whether he would admit it or not. It always amazed me, how a man like that could be jealous of anyone. I wasn’t naive, I knew there were men that looked at me when we went places, and a few of them even tried to approach me when Bucky would get up to go to the bathroom or grab us more drinks. But I only ever had eyes for him. He was the only thing that mattered to me. I was so in love with him, it never even registered that there were other people around us when we were together. I tried so hard to get him to understand that. Maybe I had failed.

I decided to kick it up a notch at the bar and ordered a double shot of tequila with my next round of Prosecco. I wasn’t trying to get drunk, but I did need to take the edge off with Bucky being here. I pulled out my phone and typed a quick text to my best friend, Taylor. I couldn’t spot her fulfilling her ‘host’ duties. Where the fuck did she go?

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. You look incredible.”

As soon as I turned around, I was met with a familiar pair of deep honey colored eyes and a charming grin. I instantly felt a little more at ease and offered a genuine smile when I was wrapped into a warm hug.

“Peter, you made it! You clean up pretty nicely. I wasn’t sure if you owned anything that wasn’t flannel.”

Peter was my coworker, but was also technically my boss. From the moment we met, we hit it off really well. We had a lot in common, we worked well together, and he was all around a really easy going guy. Taylor and Sam had a bet going on when we would sleep together. I had to admit, I had thought about it. I mean he was very attractive, and funny. Sometimes I thought he was flirting with me, but most of the time I convinced myself that was just his personality. He was friendly to everyone, and could be a bit of a flirt, especially if he had been drinking. But he never crossed a line. And besides, he was my boss, and I wanted to keep my job. It was the only one I had ever had that I truly loved.

“Easy, easy. Dress code is business casual, alright. Not everyone walks around looking like they stepped off a Vogue photoshoot.”

He threw me a playful wink, and I would be lying if I said that didn’t do something to me. Maybe it was the alcohol finally hitting. Or maybe I just really missed sex with something that wasn’t battery operated. Or both. But I simply smiled and rolled my eyes, tilting my head slightly.

“You know I thought most guys that worked in photography had a closet full of cardigans, cable knit sweaters, some suspenders here and there, maybe even a fedora or two. But I guess when you’re head of the department, Mets gear and H&M Couture suffice.”

I loved Peter’s laugh. It reminded me of being a kid, laughing at something with your whole chest. Eyes closed, head thrown back. Peter’s laugh always made me laugh. It reminded me of Bucky’s. There was just something warm about him. People gravitated towards him, loved being in his presence, including me.

“Hey, you be gentle with my Mets alright. And what’s wrong with H&M Couture?”

“Nothing, nothing at all. You’re the boss, Mr. Parker.”

We both stared at each other for a moment. I’ve never called him Mr. Parker since my interview when he advised me to call him Peter moving forward. There was a look in his eyes I had never seen before, and his tongue darted out quickly to wet his lips. I suddenly felt a little embarrassed at how I must have come off. Flashing him a quick smile, I reached for my double shot of tequila and downed it. There was a slight burn at the back of my throat and my lower stomach flooded with warmth, but I welcomed it. I picked up my glass and took a sip, brushing my hair off my shoulder.

“So, um, have you seen Taylor? I haven’t seen her in awhile, and she’s not answering her phone.”

“Don’t worry, blondie’s probably just making her rounds. It’s her party after all.”

“I know, I just..needed to talk to her about something. That’s all.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, no no, everything’s fine. Just..um girl stuff. That’s all.”

“Oh, so I’m excluded from that? Little sexist, don’t you think?”

Rolling my eyes, I lightly pushed at his shoulder with a giggle and took another sip of my drink. The bartender slid a tall draft over towards Peter which he graciously accepted.

“Shut up. Your gender has nothing to do with it, it’s your title. I can’t unload my drama on the guy that signs my checks.”

“Technically, I don’t sign your checks. That’s way above my paygrade.”

Peter shot me another playful wink, wrapping his long fingers around the glass and raising it up to his lips to take a generous sip. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and I had to quickly avert my eyes from staring at his neck. God I needed to get laid. The alcohol began to simmer in my veins and I had to pull it together before I dug a hole I couldn’t get out of.

“You..know what I mean.”

I was hoping anyone that looked at me, including Peter, would think the rose tint to my cheeks was purely from alcohol consumption.

“Look, I realize that technically I am above you, but we’re both off the clock, and not at the office. So right now, don’t think of me as Peter your boss, but Peter your friend. If you got something you wanna get off your chest, I’m all ears.”

There was an intensity swirling around in his gaze that I had never seen before, and for a second I thought I saw his eyes drop down to my lips. Before I could respond, Taylor suddenly appeared in front of us with a dazzling, toothy grin on her ruby painted lips.

“Pete, you made it! I’m glad I found you, Mr. Jameson is here and he’s asking for you. He’s over by the dessert table.”

“Shit, come on T. I thought this was a party, not a networking event? You know I can’t stand that asshole.”

“Relax, he just wants to say hi. I think. He mentioned something about pictures of Spider-Man, but I warned him no shop talk tonight.”

Peter begrudgingly downed the rest of his beer, giving the two of us a dissatisfied glare before stalking off towards the direction of the dessert table.

“Go get ‘em, tiger!”

Taylor and I shared a knowing grin, bursting into a fit of giggles. Her taupe brows knit together for a moment as she eyed the empty shot glass beside me.

“Tequila already?”

For a second I was confused, before my gaze caught up with hers. It took me a moment to register why I had asked for the shot in the first place. Flashes of Bucky popped into my head, and the smile instantly disappeared from my lips. I turned slowly in my seat to stare up at Taylor who was already looking at me in question.

“You invited Sam.”

“Yeah..you like Sam?”

“I do like Sam. I don’t like Bucky.”

“Well neither do I. What does that have to do with Sam?”

“Take a lucky guess to who he invited as his plus one.”

Taylor’s cheerful demeanor melted into an expression of disdain. Her baby blues darkened like a sky before a storm, and there was a hardened edge to her usual sweet voice.

“He did what.”

“He..thought I wouldn’t care. Said it was gonna happen eventually. I guess it is my fault. I did say I was over him.”

I placed my palm against the side of my face, leaning over the bar as I swirled my glass in front of me in slow circles. I could hear Taylor sigh as she sat down beside me, motioning to the bartender for a drink of her own.

“Even if you were, that doesn’t mean he has to parade him around in front of you knowing what he did.”

“He’s his best friend, T. He came first.”

“Yeah well, now they’re both on my shit list.”

My mouth split into a wide grin as I looked over at Taylor. I was so grateful for her. After everything that had happened with Bucky, I was a fucking wreck. A shell of who I used to be. I don’t know how I would have even found the strength to move forward without her. She raised her glass up to mine, and I tapped mine against hers in a silent toast.

“First you two pawn me off to that dickhead, and now you’re drinking without me? You’re both fired.”

“I thought we were off the clock?”

Peter narrowed his eyes at me, crossing his arms across his chest with his lips pursed into a slight pout. After a moment of contemplation, he took the glass from my hand and downed the rest of its contents.

“Fine. You’re not fired. But you’re both getting your own coffee Monday morning.”

Taylor slid her glass over towards me after taking another sip, raising from her seat and smoothing out her dress.

“I’ll be right back. There’s someone I need to talk to.”

She sent me a knowing look, flashing Peter a quick smile before getting lost in the crowd again. He looked over at me quizzically, but I brushed it off with a wave. I knew she was hunting down Sam, and for a moment I felt bad for him. Taylor’s wrath was not for the faint of heart. Sobering thoughts of Bucky were canceling out the buzz from the tequila and I felt tired. I wanted nothing more than to go home and be alone.

“Hey uh, you wanna dance?”

“You dance?”

“Well..not really. But I swear on the Mets winning the World Series, which will happen one day, that I won’t step on your toes. Or at least, I mean..I’ll try.”

Peter had stretched his hand out towards me, a warm smile covering his lips. I knew that I shouldn’t. I knew that despite my emotions being all over the place and having a tiny baby crush on my boss, I shouldn’t dance with him. I didn’t need to give anyone else a reason to think there was something between us. I didn’t want people thinking I got my position for any other reason than busting my ass and being good at my job. But Peter had that sweet look on his face, and I wanted to be held. Comforted. I wanted a small silver lining to this shitty night.

I let him take my hand and lead me to the middle of the dance floor. I placed one of my hands on his chest, still holding onto his other one as his other hand settled respectfully above my hip. He seemed a little nervous and I didn’t know if it was because of me or because he was holding back on what a terrible dancer he actually was. The thought caused a brief laugh to leave my lips and he looked down at me with furrowed brows.

“What?”

“Nothing I just..thinking.”

“About?”

“You’re not as bad of a dancer as I thought you would be.”

“Ouch. I’m gonna put my bruised ego aside for a second so you can tell me what you’re actually thinking about.”

I don’t know how he did it, but Peter could read me like a book. It was scary sometimes. He was almost as good at it as Bucky had been. It made me wonder if I really just was that transparent. I had known Peter for a little over two years. I had gotten the job right before Bucky and I had broken up. He had seen me at my worst. He had been there some nights when I was working late on a deadline and randomly broke down after thoughts of Bucky interrupted my focus. I don’t know if he knew the full extent of what was going on, he never pressed it or asked. He was just patient, kind, and understanding.

Peter never hesitated to offer extensions if he could tell I was struggling. He sent me home if he thought I was too overwhelmed and told me to take a break. He was encouraging if I felt like my work wasn’t my best. He looked out for me in ways he didn’t have to. I tried to ignore the feelings I had for him. I didn’t want to ruin our working relationship, or friendship in general. This job was too important to me. But being so close in his arms, it was getting harder to deny that there wasn’t something there. There were just too many uncertainties. I didn’t know if I felt this way just because he was there after Bucky when I was vulnerable, or if these feelings were organic. I also didn’t know how he felt, and there was no way to find out without ripping apart the boundary I had built.

“I’m thinking about pizza. Pepperoni and pineapple, with a garlic basted crust. And some nice, cold beer. The good kind, not that shit you drink. I’m thinking about how much longer I have to be proper and pleasant before Taylor lets me run away to the comfort of my couch where I don’t have to wear pants or look nice.”

“You do realize you’re not wearing pants now, right?”

“True. But this dress isn’t the most comfortable, and these heels are killing me.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you do look beautiful. And I’m sure you look just as great on your couch, not all done up. Maybe even better. As far as your questionable pizza and beer choices, I can learn to live with those.”

I couldn’t handle the look in his eyes, not right now. My head was buzzing with a million thoughts and questions, and his eyes looked like a shot of whiskey I could get lost in. I laid my head on his shoulder, moving my arms up to wrap around his neck as I brought him in closer. Peter didn’t even hesitate to hold me against his chest, one of his hands shifting dangerously low on my back. He rested his head against mine, nuzzling his nose against my hair. To anyone watching, we probably looked like a couple. I should’ve cared. We both had a professional relationship to uphold. But I didn’t have it in me to care. I gave in completely to the comforting weight of his touch and the warmth of his presence. It had been so long since I had been held like this, I hadn’t realized how much I had been craving it.

“I know you hate when I refer to you as my boss, but I hope you know you’re the best boss I’ve ever had.”

“Because I buy you coffee every day and give you your pick on projects?”

“That’s definitely part of it. But no..it’s mainly just..because you care. You’ve always been um..very accommodating. I just appreciate everything you’ve done for me so..thank you.”

“Alcohol makes you sappy, you know that?”

I pulled back just enough to gently punch at his shoulder, giggling at his reaction of mock offense. His lips quickly curled into a wide grin as he rolled his eyes, his hands resuming their place on my waist.

“You ass! Here I am, pouring my heart out to you, and you make fun of me! That’s it. I’m calling HR first thing Monday morning.”

“Alright, alright! Sorry. I was joking. Sort of. Look um..you..you’ve been great, really. You blew me away in your interview, and you’ve only been all the more impressive ever since. I know you were uh..you know..going through a rough patch and all that but..it’s um..it’s just..it’s good to see you smile again, Y/N.”

There was a sudden shift in the air around us. This time I knew I wasn’t imagining it when I saw Peter glance down at my lips. I swallowed thickly, frantically searching my brain for something to say so I wasn’t standing there like an idiot.

“I have to pee.”

“Alright…thank you for sharing.”

I groaned as I smacked my palm against my forehead, shaking my head slowly as I took a step back from Peter and looked up at him with a timid smile.

“I..sorry. I didn’t mean to just..I’ve had three glasses of champagne and a double shot of tequila. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

I didn’t wait for Peter’s response as I bolted towards the hallway where the bathrooms were. I didn’t actually have to go, but I needed a moment to myself. This night was spinning out of control faster than I had anticipated and I was struggling to keep up. I yelped as I felt a hand gripping onto my wrist, tugging me into an empty room and slamming the door shut behind them.

I was prepared to hurl a string of insults and punches at whatever asshole had dared to grab me before I turned around, only to be met with the sight of a very furious looking Bucky. His sharp jaw was set in a harsh line and his nostrils flared. The threats died in my throat at the furious look on his face.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Why don’t you tell me, asshole? You’re the one who dragged me in here.”

“Are you fucking him?”

“What?”

“That guy. Your boss.”

Bucky spat the words out like they tasted foul coming off of his tongue. I groaned loudly as I rubbed my palms over my face and throughout my hair. I didn’t have the patience to deal with him and his unbridled jealousy. I was so fucking over this night. I was so ready to go home. Taylor would have to forgive me later.

“Oh my god, no, okay? We’re just friends.”

“Friends don’t dance like that together, Y/N. Neither do coworkers. His hands were practically on your ass.”

“Does it matter? Even if we were sleeping together, that is none of your business.”

I took a few steps closer towards the door, but Bucky cut me off, blocking it with his ridiculously large frame. Had he gotten bigger? Focus. I sighed in annoyance at how stubborn he was being. Why did it matter to him? Why did he care? He was the one who had left.

“Move.”

“Is that how you got the job?”

“Excuse me?”

“I asked if that’s how you got the job. I knew how bad you wanted it, but fuck I didn’t take you for the type to slut out for it, doll.”

My mouth suddenly dropped open in shock and there was a piercing pain in my chest. I struck my palm across Bucky’s cheek and a loud slap filled the silent room. My palm stung from the impact and I could barely see flush rising to the spot on his skin where my hand had just been. For the first time, I hated the serum that flowed through his veins, because I knew that my hand hurt impeccably worse than his face. I doubted he even felt it at all. I knew I should have felt pure rage at that moment, but that comment blanketed over me like ice, diminishing the flame within me. He had never spoken to me like that. Our last fight had been volatile, and some of his words still nipped at my brain, but there was nothing lingering like that.

I felt betrayed. I grit my teeth as treacherous tears welled up in the corners of my eyes, seconds away from spilling over. All the fight within me had gone out with those words, and all that was left was more heartache that wouldn’t fit inside my ribcage. I was exhausted. I just wanted to go home.

“Fuck you. How dare you say that to me. You know how hard I worked for that. You were there. God, you helped me put my fucking portfolio together! You helped me rehearse for that interview!”

Bucky’s entire demeanor quickly shifted, eyes widening slightly as if he had just felt the weight of his own words. He clenched his fists at his sides, broad shoulders slumping forward with the burden of guilt. He blinked several times, deterring his gaze to a spot on the ground as if it held all the answers he was searching for.

“I know. I..I didn’t mean that. I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry, Y/N..I just-”

“I don’t want to hear it. You don’t get to be angry with me. You left me. You ended this. Not me. You broke every fucking promise you ever made to me. You do not get to be angry with me for how I choose to move on, or how I choose to pick up the pieces that you left behind.”

Bucky refused to meet my gaze as I spoke. The dam had finally broken, and I wasn’t even going to attempt to hold the waves of pain back. I wanted him to drown in them, like I had.

“I waited for you. For over a year, I was stupid enough to think you might actually change your mind. That you would come back. But you didn’t James, you just left me..like I was nothing. Like I meant nothing. You have no fucking idea what you did to me..what you put me through. You have spent the past two years acting like I never even existed to you. I am finally starting to feel like myself again. And you know what..Peter is a great guy, and he was there when you weren’t. And you know what if I want to be with him, that is my choice, and you don’t get to be upset with me for that. You don’t get to call me a slut for moving on and fixing what you broke.”

Bucky’s face had softened with regret as he finally lifted his gaze to stare down at me, his expression faltering in complete remorse. I could see his eyes glistening under the dim light in the room. I never got to tell him how I felt after he ended things. He never gave me a chance to. I had held onto these pent up feelings for years, waiting for a chance to pour them out. I felt lighter almost, like I had given him back a final piece of me I didn’t want anymore.

He took a step towards me, his lips parted with the intention to speak. I could see the thoughts spinning around in his head. I know he wanted to say something, anything to make this better. He always struggled with words. He always felt like they weren’t enough, or he couldn’t find the right ones to translate the noise in his head. Bucky was a man of action, in every sense of the word. He preferred to show, not tell, but I think even he knew there was no gesture that would be enough to salvage the wreckage he had created. Even after everything, my heart ached for him.

No matter what, Bucky always tried. I could always depend on him to do that. If he couldn’t understand what I needed to hear, or what I wanted from him, or how to fix an issue between us, he tried to figure it out. Relentlessly. There wasn’t an end he wouldn’t go to just to try. He swore as long as I granted him patience, he would never stop trying. I think that’s why it devastated me so badly when he did stop. When he finally gave up on us. On me. I took a deep breath to wash out the grief in my lungs, wiping at my cheeks with the back of my hand as I steaded my voice.

“James, you made a choice. Now I have to make mine. So please..if you ever cared about me at all, I need you to let me let you go. Once and for all. Because..I deserve better, than to just be discarded like a piece of clothing you’ve outgrown. I loved you, more than I ever thought I could possibly feel about another person, and a piece of me will probably always love you. But I’m not going to beg to be an afterthought in your life when someone will make me the center of their universe.”

The tear that rolled down his cheek pierced right through my heart, and I felt it shattering all over again. Bucky was the first person I ever truly fell in love with, and despite everything, I know deep down he never wanted to hurt me. I know he loved me once. He wasn’t cruel, he was just conflicted. But I couldn’t wait any longer for him to sort his own feelings out. I had already wasted too much time putting what he might want in front of what I did want.

I took a few steps forward until I stood right in front of him. He instantly reached out to pull me into his chest, like it was a safe haven. It used to be. I let him embrace me fully, burying his face into the crook of my neck. I closed my eyes and inhaled his scent, wrapping my arms around his back as I felt his shuddering breath on my skin. This used to be my favorite place. My home. But now..it felt like somewhere I didn’t belong. Foreign. I turned my head slightly to place a gentle kiss to his cheek bone where my hand had struck, a silent apology, before slowly retracting from his touch.

Bucky’s eyes were rimmed with tears as he reluctantly let go, and his hand was still outstretched towards me as I pulled away. I couldn’t reach for him, even if my entire body was screaming for him. It remembered him. It remembered the good. But my brain could only conjure the bad. If I stayed in his arms another second, I wouldn’t have the strength to walk away. I gave him the most sincere smile I could manage.

“Goodbye, James. Take care of yourself. Please. I…I really hope you find whatever it is that you’re looking for. I’m sorry that it wasn’t me.”

I left him there in that room without another word. It felt strange, to be on the other side this time. I hoped I had been kinder. I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want to hurt anymore. I didn’t say goodbye to Taylor or Peter, or even Sam. I would deal with them another time. I slipped out the back into the bustling streets, getting lost in the scattered crowds and chatter, welcoming the bitter cold settling in my bones. Even though my heart still ached for the piece of it I left in that room, I felt like I could breathe again. I had finally gotten the closure that I needed. I was proud of myself for asserting my value to a man I never thought would take me for granted. For choosing the daunting task of creating a life on my own instead of falling back into the familiarity of a fantasy I had created with someone else. I knew the final encounter I shared with Bucky would sting for the coming days, and maybe it always would, but it wouldn’t paralyze me again.

As I gazed up at the midnight sky, admiring the glimmer of multi-colored flashing lights and welcoming the kiss of snowflakes as they landed across my cheeks, I felt strangely hopeful about the future. You never know when you’ll find magic in this city.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fic #the winter soldier #the winter soldier fic #peter parker #sam wilson

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queen-of-the-avengers · 1 year

Text

So, You Got Detention

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~600

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Buckyx mutant reader / Reader can shpe shift , she and bucky are together . One time they are messing around r likes to play with her powers by shifting to anyone with comedic fun bucky likes to watch this time shes in steves form and bucky was all "can you pretend hes that psa from peters detention" grinning r grins too . Just in time steve came reader in steves form "so, *promp sits on chair* you got detention , you screwd up , you know wht you did was wrong" trying not to cackle like bucky steve is all hed down" what did i do now??"

Summary: To pass the time, you show off your shapeshifting skills once you find the videos Steve made for Peter’s school.

Squares Filled: body swap (2020) for @avengersbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Having powers is a great thing if you know how to use them well. Wanda was forced to learn how to use her powers because of the experiments she had to undergo. Vision was born into it, Tony adapted easily, Steve was seen as a hero both inside and out, Natasha and Bucky were forced to use their powers for evil, and many other Avengers had similar issues.

Not you.

You were born with the ability to shapeshift, but you’ve always had fun with it. You never saw it as a hindrance or a problem you needed to fix. If someone caught you using it, then so be it. It helped you get out of a lot of issues in school and well into your young adult life.

Just one look at someone is enough for you to copy what they look like. That made for some very dangerous yet really fun nights with your friends. It’s something you never took seriously, and adding your care-free personality to the mix equals disaster.

The older you got, the more you took bigger and bigger risks such as sneaking into the Avengers compound dressed as one of the other Avengers.

The only reason you did it was because you wanted to see how long it would take for one of them to notice you. You didn’t want to steal their information or take them down, but they might see you as wanting to do that if you got caught.

You did by Vision himself.

As soon as you were on the Avengers’ radar, life became a lot more difficult because they would always interrupt your dangerous nights with a strong lecture and a threat to keep you at the compound until further notice.

Before, you hated the idea of that.

Now, you can’t think of anything better.

The only person who you connected to was Bucky. There was something about him that made you always want to be around him, to be his friend. He didn’t take to you at first, but now, he can’t imagine his life without you in it.

“Bucky, I’m bored. What are we going to do?” you groan.

Everyone is out living their life and seeing their family while you and Bucky along with a select few Avengers are lingering in the compound.

“I’m content with sitting here and watching YouTube videos,” he chuckles.

“What are you watching?”

You lean over his shoulder to see the screen. He’s watching a video that Steve made for Peter’s school to use. Videos such as “Don’t do drugs”, “Always do your homework”, and “Never get in trouble”. It’s making Bucky laugh, and you want to take that up a notch.

“Check this out.”

You easily shapeshift into Steve since you’ve done it dozens of times to mess with him, and Bucky puts his phone down to watch this play out. You grab a chair and drag it to the living room where you take a seat backwards on the chair so the back of it is pressed to your front.

“So, you got detention. You screwed up. You know what you did was wrong. The question is, how are you going to make things right? Maybe you were trying to be cool. Take it from a guy who's been frozen for sixty-five years. The only way to really be cool is to follow the rules.”

Bucky cracks up laughing at this, and you can’t help but giggle at his reaction. You open your mouth to say more when Steve walks into the room with a confused look on his face.

“What is going on here?”

You transform back into yourself and fall onto the couch next to Bucky in a fit of laughter.

“You got detention,” you laugh.

“I regret making those videos for them,” Steve sighs.

“They’re great, Steve, really,” Bucky smirks.

“Keep laughing. You two are no friends of mine,” Steve teases, turns, and leaves the room.

“Be careful, Buck, you’ll get detention if you hurt his feelings,” you giggle again, and Bucky laughs along with you.

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years

Text

the way we were / the way we are - chapter 16 - judgement day

summary: it’s a bittersweet reunion, and Bucky makes you a promise.

warnings: explicit sex, canon-typical violence, reader is a badass and bucky is a babe

a/n: this is a big one but fuck I love this chapter so much

| series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 |

He just stares. And stares. And stares.

You just stare right back, unmoving from your spot on his couch.

Slowly, he steps into the apartment, pulls the door shut behind him. Stares at you.

“How did you find me?” he asks, his voice low.

Suddenly, you jump to your feet, heart racing in you chest. “Can I use your bathroom?” you ask, forcing your voice to sound casual. Your stomach is in your throat. “I smell like an airplane.”

Bucky just nods, points over his shoulder to a door you hadn’t noticed on the other side of the apartment. You cross quickly towards it, keeping a wide berth between you, and step inside. You inhale deeply, trying to get your heart to slow down. You brace your hands on the sink, stare yourself down in the mirror. Calm down, you think. You can do this.

It’s been more than a year in the making.

You take your time, splash cold water on your face, shake your limbs out. You can’t stop yourself from rummaging through the few things in the bathroom. He has a green toothbrush, a ratty towel that has definitely seen better days, and some of that 2-in-1 shampoo and body wash that men seem to love so much (you’ll never understand – the present has made you appreciate the finer things in life, like conditioner). The scent of the body wash is called Alpine Snow, and you take a whiff, leaning back against the wall. It smells familiar, like how Bucky always smelled, even in ’45.

You step out a few minutes later, and find him now sitting in your spot on the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. You put your arms behind your back, lean against the wall until your palms flatten against the surface.

He doesn’t look up at you when he speaks. “Why are you here?”

“Tell me you weren’t in Vienna earlier today,” you say, ignoring his question. “Tell me you’ve been here the entire time.”

His gaze finally lifts, and his blue eyes are nothing but confusion. They lock with yours, and he doesn’t look away. “What?”

Wordlessly, you pull your phone from your pocket and pull up the broadcast you’d watched earlier before handing it to him. A bomb hidden in a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna. He blinks, watching the clip over and over again.

He hands the phone back to you, and you force yourself to ignore the way your gut leaps when your fingers brush his flesh ones. His eyes lock with yours again, wide and shocked. “It wasn’t me. I’m not…I don’t…it wasn’t me. I swear it.”

“I believe you,” you say. You do. Past the anger and the hurt and the heartbreak, you believe him. You can see it in his eyes. “But the rest of the world might not.”

His jaw clenches. “Is that why you’re here? To warn me?”

You nod. “Eighteen hours, give or take, before the Task Force shows up. Steve will be here in twelve.”

“How did you find me?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not,” he says, pushing himself off the couch. There’s only a few feet between you, and you can’t stop yourself from dragging your gaze up and down his body. It seems impossible, but he looks even broader than he had in Vienna. “But I want to know why.”

“Why?”

“Why are you here?”

Emotion swells in your chest. “I’m here because, even if you don’t want me anymore, I’m still married to you, and despite everything, I still give a damn about you. I still love you. And the whole world wants your head on a platter, so I came here to warn you. Steve didn’t want me to come, but I pushed.” You cross your arms over your chest, meeting his eyes again. “I had to see you again. Even after Vienna, I still had to. For better or for worse, remember?”

“Does…Stark know that you’re here?”

“For the time being, no.”

He’s silent for a long moment, and his gaze never drops from yours. “I never said I didn’t want you anymore, Y/N.”

Your gut twists. “Then why did you make me leave?”

A sad smile pulls at his lips and he takes a step towards you. “Because I still give a damn about you too. Because I still love you. But I can’t keep you safe, especially not now. Vienna broke me. It broke me to push you away like that, but I can’t…I can’t let myself have you again, because that means dragging you into a fight. And it always ends in a fight.”

You push away from the wall, take a step towards him. There’s less than a foot between you now. You can feel his body heat, see every shift in the colour of his eyes. They’re blue, so, so blue.

He takes another step, and the toe of your boot touches his. Another, and he’s backed you up against the wall again, hands clenched at his sides, yours still crossed over your chest. Your arms relax, and you lift a careful hand to his face, your thumb swiping over his bottom lip.

“You still love me?” you whisper out. He nods. “You still want me?” Another nod. “Then kiss me. Please.”

A low groan rumbles through his chest, and you can feel the vibration against your fingertips. “I want to.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“Because once I start,” he says, and pulls your hand from his face, holding your wrist and leaning in close to you. The tip of his nose slips along yours, and you can just feel the ghost of his lips across yours. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

You let out a shaky breath, and he releases your wrist, both flesh and metal hands resting on your waist. His fingers curl in the fabric of your jeans, and your own hands lift to his shoulders, palms flattening against the curves of his muscle. He pulls your hips forward, meeting them with his own, and then his mouth is on yours, lips warm and soft and inviting.

It starts slow. It starts tentative, your hands grasping at each other, holding on for dear life. You’re breathing the same air, and the taste of his mouth lies heavy on your tongue. It’s intoxicating. It’s been more than a year since Austria, since you’d kissed for the first time seventy years, and yet this seems different too, like you’re seeing him for the first time all over again.

And then it changes. The love and the longing still linger, but when his mouth moves to your neck, nips at your pulse, and draws a moan of his name from your lips, desire and…hunger break through the surface. He pulls back a fraction of an inch, and you see his pupils are blown, eyes nearly black as they rake across your body. But his hands freeze on you, still clenched around you waist. He kisses you softly, once, and you feel metal fingers slip just beneath the edge of your shirt.

He’s asking, you realize. He’s waiting for permission.

It breaks something in you, and you grab him by the collar of his shirt, your mouths crashing together once more.

A moan slips between the two of you, and then you’re pulling at his clothes, hands fumbling for his belt and the button of his jeans. He unzips your jacket, licks a stripe from your collar to your jaw. “Damn it,” he rasps out, and you realize he’s grinning. Actually grinning. “You taste exactly how I remember.”

The words only spur you on as you make quick work of his zipper, shrugging off your jacket and then slipping your hand down his pants, fingers snapping at the waistband of his boxers. Your lips find his temple, and you feel the scratch of the scruff on his jaw as his teeth slide against your neck.

Your hand slips beneath his boxers, and a lust-filled grin pulls at your lips as you fingers close around him, already hard as a rock. A deep gasp escapes him, but you only manage to stroke him twice before his hands are pulling at your jeans, pushing them down over your hips. He pulls your hand away from him, and drops to his knees before you, unlacing your boots and pulling them off one at a time, then peeling your pants down you legs. Your underwear goes with them, leaving you bare from the waist down.

“Bu-” His name cuts off in your throat, replaced but a quiet moan as he knocks your legs apart with one hand, lips finding the inside of your thigh instantly. Your head falls back against the wall, hands gripping his shoulders, muscles tightening as both his hands, metal and flesh, glide up the backs of your thighs, grabbing handfuls of your ass.

His mouth is hot as hell over the very core of you, tongue flicking out in all the ways you’ve been dreaming of. One of your hands moves to his head, fingers tangling in the long strands. Pleasure rolls through you like a tidal wave, sparks of white light firing behind your eyes. You nails dig into his shoulders hard, and he growls between your legs.

You yank him up by his shirt, and his eyes go wide for a moment at your strength. “I should have believed you,” he says, letting you pull him to his feet. His hands bracket your head, palms flat against the wall. “When you said you were just as strong as me.”

A grin pulls at your lips, but your mouth drops open when his flesh hand glances down your front, cupping you between your thighs. You grab his face in your hands and moan when his teeth clamp down on your bottom lip, sucking on it lightly as his middle finger strokes you. “Bucky,” you gasp out, hands twisting in his as his mouth closes around your pulse once more. “Please, I need…fuck…I need you.”

He pulls his hand away from your core only to grab your waist and haul you up. Your legs lock around his hips instantly, and he’s smiling at you. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before.”

“Yeah, well,” you whisper, “I think it’s called for.”

He takes himself in hand, you tilt your hips, and when he slides home, you curse again, your jaw dropping. This time, it’s him gasping your name, burying his face in your neck as his hips rock against you. He feels like pure power, corded muscle holding you up easily, hips snapping against yours over and over again.

You feel everything at once; desperation, love, lust, hunger, pleasure. You slip once hand beneath the collar of his shirt, finding that spot between his shoulder blades. Bucky groans against your throat when your nail grazes the spot, thrusting harder into you, hands holding you so tightly you’re sure there’ll be bruises, but you don’t care.

The wall nearly cracks under the impact of the two of you, and your lips find each other’s again, both gasping for air, breathing the same breaths.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I never stopped loving you.”

He hits that spot inside you, the one that makes your whole body scream in pleasure and your free hand knots in his hair, tugging lightly. It makes him groan. “I love you too.”

The release slams into both of you at once, making your vision white out. The only thing keeping you tethered to the earth are his hands on your body, flesh and metal.

Your vision clears slowly, and as the tingling in your limbs recedes, he kisses you again. You both pull away after a moment, your hand still in his hair, and you tilt your head to kiss the spot below his eye. His lips part, and you feel his breath on your skin. “Hold me forever and never let go.”

He walks over to the couch, you still held in his arms, and sits on the couch, settling you into his lap. He’s still inside you, and his hand skim up your back. “You said that to me, before,” he says, and you can see it in his eyes.

He’s remembering.

You nod, adjusting yourself against him, draping your arms around his neck. His hands roam your back, tracing over the dips in your spine, the notches of your ribs. “I did.”

His brow furrows, and you lean in to kiss it, feeling his arms tighten around you. “The night we got married.”

“You remember.”

“I do,” Bucky says, and a smile breaks across his face. “It was the happiest day of my life.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you lean down to capture his mouth with yours.

You make love twice more; once right there on the couch, and again on the bare mattress, stripping each other completely and finishing in a sweaty heap. You lie with your head on his shoulder, his metal arm around your back, your hand drawing shapes on his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “for Austria. I’ll be sorry for the rest of my life.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I shouldn’t have sent you away,” he admits, and you can feel his lips against the top of your head. “You were the only thing that mattered to me, all these years. You were the only thing that kept me…me. Even when I didn’t know who I was, I knew who you were.” There’s a crack in his voice, and there’s a pang in your chest.

You lift your head from his shoulder, prop it up so you can look at him. “Promise me something?”

Metal fingers drift down your spine, rest at the small of your back. “Anything.”

“Promise me you won’t make me leave again,” you say, and your voice sounds small, even to you. “Promise me that we’ll stay together, no matter what happens.”

He just nods, leans up to kiss you once. “I promise.”

You talk for hours. Well, you do. Bucky mostly listens. And takes notes. It makes you smile. You tell him about Steve, and Nat. You mention Tony briefly, but his face changes, same as it had in Vienna, and you stop.

As for the Task Force, you make a plan. Steve will be at the apartment in less than six hours, and you’ll both do your best to set the record straight. Bucky’s alibi is essentially non-existent, but you’re willing to vouch for him; you don’t think it’ll go very far, but it’s at least a start. With the Accords in effect, you don’t have much help behind you – Nat and Tony are a no-go, and you know Steve and Sam will be less than thrilled with your plan – but it’s a start. It has to be.

And if Steve can buy you some time, you can get out. Together.

You sleep for a few hours, pack up the few belongings Bucky can’t leave behind. Morning comes quickly, and you head down to the market while you wait for Steve, keeping enough distance between you two to draw as little attention as possible. He heads for the fruit stalls, you hunt down cups of coffee, and then you meet at the fountain in the centre of the market, eyes peeled.

“Ce face o fată frumoasă ca tine într-un loc ca acesta?” he says, and you just blink, offering him one of the coffee cups.

“Pardon?”

He grins. “What’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?” When you start to laugh, he leans in and kisses your cheek. “It’s Romanian.”

“I didn’t know you spoke Romanian,” you say, and he just nods, sipping the coffee.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know.”

His eyes go far off for a second, jaw clenching, and you take his chin in your hand, leaning in to kiss his mouth. “I know that I love you,” you tell him, and his gaze softens, “and that’s all that matters.”

You drink your coffees, share a plum he’d bought at the stalls, still keeping your eye on your surroundings. Everything is in high-definition to you, and you can tell just by looking at him that Bucky is on high alert.

His eyes land on someone across the way, and he reaches for your wrist. “We need to go.”

You head back to the apartment as quickly as you can without looking like you’re running. Steve is waiting when you step inside.

Bucky goes into combat mode immediately, pushing you behind him, metal arm held out in front of you. Steve looks at you, his eyes asking, and you nod once. “Do you know me?” he asks Bucky.

“You’re Steve,” Bucky replies, his words careful. “I read about you in a museum. And she…she helped.” You reach out and put your hand on his side.

“They’ve set the perimeter,” you can hear Sam’s voice in Steve’s earpiece, and you know Bucky can too. Super-soldier perks.

“I know you’re nervous,” Steve says. “You have plenty of reason to be. But you’re lying. I saw the tape.”

“It wasn’t him, Steve,” you say, your hand clenching in Bucky’s jacket. “I know it wasn’t.”

“I wasn’t in Vienna,” Bucky interjects, and you can see his shoulders go tense. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“They’re entering the building.”

Steve’s eyes dart to you, then back to Bucky. “Well, the people who think you did are coming here now. And they’re not planning on taking you alive.”

“That’s smart,” Bucky says, nodding. “Good strategy.”

“We’re leaving,” you tell Steve. “Now.”

“They’re on the roof. I’m compromised.”

You hear heavy footsteps up the stairs and Bucky turns around. “Go,” he tells you. “Out the balcony, onto the roof. I’ll follow you.” He leans in, kisses you hard, and Steve clears his throat.

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck,” he says.

“It always ends in a fight,” Bucky shoots back, “and I won’t leave her again.”

“Five seconds.”

“You pulled me from the river in Washington. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Three seconds.”

“Yes, you do,” Steve pushes. “The same way you know her.”

“I love her.”

Steve’s face falls. “I know you do.”

“Breach! Breach! Breach!”

A grenade crashes through the window, landing on the floor between the three of you. Bucky kicks it towards Steve, who smothers it with his shield, but the blast shakes the floor beneath your feet. Bucky yanks you away from the door, and pushes you past Steve, towards the door to the balcony.

Something heavy slams into the door and Bucky yanks up the mattress from the floor as bullets fly through the windows, shattering the glass. The table goes flying, blocking the door as two cops swing through the windows on cables. They both go down quickly, and Bucky lurches towards you. Another breaks through the balcony door, and Steve steps in front of you, slamming the cop in the head with the shield.

“Buck, stop!” Steve yells. “You’re gonna kill someone.”

His eyes go dark for a moment, and his metal fist slams through the floor, yanking out a familiar backpack. “I’m not gonna kill anyone,” he says, then launches the bag out the window. “Y/N, go,” he tells you, pushing you towards the now broken door. “Now.”

The front door bursts open and you scramble onto the balcony. Before you can second guess it, you clamber onto the railing and leap off, aiming for the roof of the building below. You can see where the bag had landed and skidded across the surface.

You land a few feet away from it with a loud yelp, the concrete slamming into your shoulder. You roll across the rooftop, coming to a stop beside the bag. You let out a groan, pain snaking down your arm, but you get to your feet quickly, turning just in time to see Bucky jump from a balcony a few floors below his. He lands the same way you had, rolling to a stop a foot away from you. You reach out a hand and he grabs it, getting to his feet and taking off again, pulling you behind him. It’s easy enough for you to keep up with him, and the adrenaline pumping through you helps.

Out of nowhere, a man clad in some kind of catsuit throws himself at Bucky, and you both go tumbling. Bucky shoves you out of the way as the man attacks him, sharp metal claws coming way too close to his face.

“Go!” he yells.

You get to your feet just as a helicopter swoops in, machine gun whirring loudly. You grab the bag off the ground and run toward the far edge of the roof. You glance over your shoulder just in time to see the Falcon shove the chopper off course. Bucky breaks away from the man, grabs the bag from you, and you leap over the edge of the roof, using the air vents as landings to get down to the street level.

The man in the catsuit slides down the wall, swiping at your back as he goes. Bucky yanks you out of the way, you land on the street, and keep running.

You know you’re thinking the same thing when you see the opening to the underpass, and Bucky grabs your hand, the both of you leaping down to the road below. Car horns fill your ears, and you brace yourself against the impact as you land on the asphalt. Bucky’s hand tightens around yours, and you take off again, weaving through traffic.

It all happens in a blur. You see the motorcycle coming straight towards you, and Bucky yanks you forward as it comes closer. Your arms lock around his shoulder, and the next thing you know, you’re on the bike, holding on for dear life as Bucky revs the engine and speeds away.

You feel claws on your back, and you’re yanked from the bike, landing hard on the asphalt as the bike carries on. Bucky looks back at you, terror in his eyes, but then there are hands under your shoulders, and you look up to see Sam lifting you from the asphalt.

The roof at the end of the underpass explodes into rubble, and you see the man in the catsuit leap through it, swiping at the tire of the bike and throwing Bucky from it. Steve appears out of nowhere, jumping from an SUV that rolls as soon as he’s out of it, crashing through the rubble. Sam swerves through the explosion, yanking you out of the way of the rolling car, and you see Steve pull the man off of Bucky as more than a dozen armed guards surround them.

Not just them, you realize. You and Sam included.

Sam sets you down beside Bucky, and you grab ahold of him instantly. He pushes you behind him again just as Rhodes, in full War Machine gear, descends and raises repulsors at both Steve and Bucky. Bucky reaches for your hand, and Steve puts the shield away. “Stand down now,” Rhodes commands. The cops move in and pull Bucky away from you. You reach for him, but Steve grabs your shoulder, keeping you in place. “Congratulations, Cap,” Rhodes continues. “You’re a criminal.”

The man in the catsuit puts the claws away, and you watch as he lifts the mask from his head. King T’Challa. You recognize him from the news broadcasts. His father, the former King T’Chaka, had died in the bombing in Vienna.

One of the cops says something in German. You reach for Bucky again, but Steve’s grip on you is tight. The cop shoves Bucky to the ground, and he doesn’t resist. Then they reach for you, holding your arms behind your back, same with Steve.

Bucky’s eyes meet yours as they bind his hands behind his back with the largest set of cuffs your ever seen. “I’m sorry,” he mouths, and then they haul him away.

—————

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therealdisneyfan2319 · 2 years

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Not the Worst Idea After All | Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes

Synopsis: In the midst of war-torn Europe, Bucky manages to find a way to help Steve take his mind off of the war for a while

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Warnings: None

Word Count: 974

Other Fics: Broken Glass (part 1), Count Your Blessings (part 2)

I’ve always loved Steve and Bucky’s friendship. This idea popped into my head and I had to write it. Hope you enjoy!

Belgium. Winter. 1944. Steve Rogers and his Howling Commandos were en route to Berlin. They were going through and weeding out all the known HYDRA bases in Nazi-controlled Europe. Was it better than being stuck in Bastogne? Marginally. It was still cold and snowy, they didn’t have much food, and their days consisted of long stretches of boredom with the occasional spurt of action. It was tedious and draining. Missing the holidays at home wasn’t helping morale either.

Steve was in his tent working on the report from the previous day’s mission. A commission to captain earned him both the privilege of his own tent and writing the official battlefield reports for Company HQ. He had spent the last couple of hours working on this latest one, carefully reviewing details from the mission: orders, troop movements, casualties, everything had to be spelled out. Technical writing wasn’t his strong suit.

“Ugh,” he groaned while throwing his head in his hands. This was definitely one of his least favorite parts of being Captain America. “Can’t this thing write itself?”

“You should talk to Howard Stark about that. I’m sure he could fix you up with a self-typing typewriter or something.”

Steve glanced up. Standing at the entrance to his tent was Bucky. He was slouched over with his hands in his pockets in a futile attempt to keep them warm in the bitter cold. He was grinning his signature cheeky Bucky Barnes grin.

“And you know better than to enter an officer’s quarters without requesting permission,” Steve half-joked.

“If it’s all the same, Cap, I’d much rather beg for forgiveness than ask permission.” Steve was still his best friend, Army protocols be damned. He ambled in and crossed to the desk where Steve was working on his report. “Christ, Steve, it’s a report, not literature.”

Steve chuckled. “You’re free to write it if you think you’d do a better job.” “That, my friend, is a perk of still being an enlisted man. That report is above my pay grade.” Bucky sat down on Steve's cot. He was looking around the tent for something.

“Alright, what do you want?” Steve asked.

“You wanna play a little hooky tonight?”

“Buck…”

“I’m serious!”

“Bucky…”

“What?!”

“You’re not seriously suggesting we just go AWOL, are you?”

“What? No. We’re not going AWOL, Steve. I’ve got a better idea! No one will even know we’re gone.” He stood up and looked at Steve. “Look, we’re a few miles away from German lines. We’re not headed right into enemy territory.”

Steve rubbed his temples. “There better be a good reason for you wanting to do this.”

“Come on, Steve! It’ll be fun!” begged Bucky.

“Going into town to pick up women in a bar where we don’t speak the same language doesn’t strike me as a fun time,” he replied. Before the war Bucky’s antics usually involved dragging Steve to some sort of outing where they could meet girls. Bucky would get all the attention and he’d end up awkwardly fumbling his way through a conversation if he was lucky. Steve would definitely get attention from the ladies now, but he didn’t want that.

“Who says I wanted to go into town?” Bucky’s eyes darted around until they suddenly stopped a little to the left of Steve’s face. He jumped up, ran over, and grabbed the shield that was lying next to the desk.

“Hey! What-”

“Follow me!”

“Where-?”

“Come on, let’s go!” Bucky ran outside, shield tucked under his arm, a huge grin on his face.

Annoyed as he was, Steve couldn’t help but grin. Bucky was his best friend. They’d been closer than brothers growing up in Brooklyn. He always looked out for Steve when he was small and he wasn’t about to give that up now. He grabbed his overcoat and wool watch cap, threw them on, and chased after his friend.

Steve caught up to Bucky without a problem. They headed east away from the camp. It was dark, but the full moon illuminated the way for the two soldiers.

“Here we go. I found this while on patrol the other day.” Bucky plopped the shield in the snow.

“Bucky, what are we doing here?” They were at the top of a small hill.

“Remember when we were kids and we’d take garbage can lids or whatever we could find and go to the top of snow piles and slide down them?”

Steve’s eyes lit up. Here they were, in the midst of war, deep in HYDRA territory, and Bucky Barnes wanted to go sledding. “You’re joking…”

“No, come and give me a push!” Bucky was kneeling on the Captain America shield. Steve laughed. He walked over and leaned down behind Bucky, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“Ready?” Bucky nodded enthusiastically. Steve gave him a push, careful not to push him too hard. The shield lurched forward and sped off down the hill.

“WOOHOO!” A shout erupted from Bucky’s lips. He hit a bump in the snow and flew off, landing face down in the snow. Steve roared with laughter. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t thinking about the war. Instead he was preoccupied with how stupid Bucky looked face down spread-eagle in the snow. Bucky brushed the snow from his body as he pushed himself to a sitting position. He grabbed the shield and turned to look at Steve. “You want a go?!” he asked. Steve nodded. So Bucky ran back up the hill. His feet kept sinking into the snow so he wasn’t moving very fast. When he got to the top of the hill he handed the shield to Steve. Steve grabbed the shield and with a running start belly flopped onto it and sped off down the hill.

“Maybe,” he thought, “Bucky doesn’t have the worst ideas after all.”

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angelbbarnes · 3 months

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chapter two // headstones and land mines // j. b. barnes.

hi there! back again with another chapter. i don't have a posting schedule for this, i'm just having a good time exploring my ideas. hope you like it :) my wish for this story is that is a comfy experience, like you can curl up and enjoy it with a candle lit and rain drumming against the windows <3 - clarke <3

read on Ao3 :) warnings for this chapter: grief. minor gore. swearing.

“There it is again, that funny feeling.”

Bucky dreamt of the man on the bridge again. In waking, the name he could’ve sworn he remembered evaded him once more. His head was like a leaking drain; no matter how hard he pressed the stopper, how tightly he tried to hold on to his memories, they poured out without his notice until he reached for them, only to find them gone again.

Will it always be like this? He thought to himself as he wandered down the street, gloved hands in his pockets and hat pulled low. He just wanted a coffee, it was much better nowadays, with more types, blends, flavours, and a strangely substantial number of alternative milks. But he was being watched.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he stiffened, slowing his pace. Glancing to his left, he swallowed thickly.

That woman was staring right at him, her short, dark hair hanging in soft tangles around her face. With her eyebrows drawn together like that, the quizzical gaze that flicked over him, he knew it wasn’t an accident. Had she been waiting for him?

The woman answered his question without words, approaching him with her arms crossed. Bucky wasn’t sure whether to ignore her and keep moving or stay put. It didn’t matter, she was in front of him before he could decide.

“Good morning,” she said, more as an accusation than a greeting.

Bucky looked her right in the eye, clearing his throat to mask the soft tut tut tut of his arm. It had made a strange sputtering sound that morning when he’d woken up and discovered the skin where the metal met his pectoral was raw and bleeding. His arm had been stuttering like a steam train since.

He’d spent ten minutes at the sink, digging his own sinew out from under his fingernails, recalling the flashes of feral fervour in the dark, scratching and tearing at his shoulder, grunting and seething and whimpering like a rabid dog, feeling the familiar warmth of blood on his hands… Bucky retched into the sink until his throat was raw.

It had been a week since this had happened last, and the wounds had still been healing, despite the serum. Everything stung, so he kept his arm stiff at his side, hoping the tender, fragile scabs wouldn’t tear and leak through his shirt.

“Hello,” was all he said to the woman in front of him, before stepping around her as casually as he could and continuing down the street. If he could just make it to the little café he’d come to favour, where one of the barista’s knew his name, (the younger one with the blonde hair and strange sense of humour, not the other one.)

“I’ve seen you around,” she said, falling into step beside him. “Do you live nearby?”

“Yes.” If an office building that was scheduled to be demolished soon could count as a residential address.

“Cool.”

“Indeed,” Bucky muttered, burying his hands further into his pockets, realising too late that she wasn’t referring to the damn weather. But she laughed all the same, a soft, quiet laugh, and Bucky was struck dumb by the ease of it. How long had it been since he’d laughed? He couldn’t remember the sound, nor the feeling, nor what it took to provoke it.

Another unfamiliarity.

He could try it, he thought, just laugh along with her. But the moment had passed.

“I’m Hazel.”

Bucky nodded. He could see her out of his periphery, looking at him while they walked, quizzical and curious.

“Okay, Hazel.” The name felt strange in his mouth, though most new names and phrases did. Ones he’d learned through his own experience, rather than information they’d fed to him, their obedient dog. A good kind of strange.

Bucky knew she was waiting for him to introduce himself, but they reached the café, and he pulled the sliding door open.

“You going in?” God, he hated the sound of his voice. Just monotone, flat, stern. Hollow. He hated that he sounded so angry, hated that he felt so angry. And scared. And tired.

And alone.

But as he stood there, holding the door open for a woman, he remembered his mother’s smile. And how she’d taught him to be a gentleman. Swallowing thickly, hoping the sting in his eyes hadn’t turned them red, he motioned his head into the café, where the warmth beckoned.

“Let me buy you a coffee.” He cleared his throat. “Please.”

Hazel, who had been watching him curiously as he corrected his tone, nodded. “Okay.”

They approached the counter and Bucky noticed that the blonde barista was on shift, grateful that his coffee wouldn’t be burnt today.

“Hey, James! Back again.” The barista, whose name he felt he should’ve remembered, flashed him a smile as she put out a line of takeaway cups that coordinated with her line of order tickets. The collection of seemingly nonsensical tattoos on her arms rippled with the movement.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hazel whip her head to him, mouth opening and closing as if she had something to say but thought better of it. Shaking off the feeling that she’d just made an unwanted realisation about him, he ordered a simple black coffee alongside a vanilla latte for Hazel, whose order she’d muttered distractedly when he’d asked what she wanted.

“You ever tried a black mocha?” She asked, once they’d stepped aside to wait.

“No,” he replied. Then, wincing at the harshness of his tone, continued. “What is that?”

“Just black coffee with chocolate powder mixed in.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“It is. But I find black coffee, in and of itself, to be ghastly.” Hazel shrugged, picking at her fingernails which he noticed were painted a deep, navy blue.

He'd once had a jacket the same colour. Back in the war.

Bucky blinked, the phantom sensation of gunmetal in his hands and snow in his hair dissipating in an instant, but the bone-deep paranoia lingered. With a long exhale, he tilted his head back, fixing his gaze on the ceiling, willing the vice on his heart to loosen. Christ, he couldn’t fucking breathe.

Flexing his hands, listening to the crack of his knuckles, his metal arm hissed quietly, and he winced. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought between the desire to hold on to the memory, to explore it further, or to come back to himself, to the moment he was in.

Hazel decided for him, yanking him back to Earth with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“You good? Do I need to call an ambulance or something? I mean, I know CPR, but your heart still seems to be beating, so I don’t really… know.”

Bucky shrugged her off, shaking his head. “Fine. No, yeah, I’m fine. Just, um, got dizzy.”

“Well you should sit down.” Hazel guided him to a chair, her hands hovering just inches away from his body, careful not to touch him again after he’d shrugged her off. They ended up at a table by the window, which Hazel cracked open to let some fresh air in.

The barista, who must’ve noticed the slight commotion, brought their coffees over to them personally, along with a cup of water. Her nametag, Bucky made sure to memorise, read ‘Amelia.’ They both thanked her as she got back to work.

For a moment, they sat in silence. Bucky drained the cup of water, blissfully cold against his sweaty upper lip.

“I really am fine,” he snapped, internally cursing himself when she frowned at him. “But… thank you for asking.”

“Didn’t want somebody else dying on me.” Hazel sipped her latte, hissing softly when the coffee scalded her lip. Although she joked, Bucky, even though he felt out of touch from mostly everything, could see the weight that statement carried.

“So, James,” she continued, and hearing his name from her mouth was so foreign that it didn’t even sound like his name at all. “You knew my grandmother, Margaret.”

A vision of a dark-haired little girl flashed through his mind, plaits streaming behind her like kite-tails as she sprinted down the street as he and Steve returned home from school. Steve.

Bucky blinked, a pang of nostalgia striking him through the heart.

“Yeah,” the left corner of his mouth itched, tilting upward, and he could’ve sworn he felt the light squeeze of the little girl’s hand in his.

“I knew Maggie.”

Hanging her keys on the hook by the door, Hazel led James into her apartment, suddenly self-conscious of the mess of cleaning products and cardboard boxes.

“Did you visit much?” She asked, discreetly kicking a few of the spray bottles into the pantry.

“No. She… Seeing me, sort of, confused her.”

Hazel nodded as though she understood, but Bucky knew she never could, not when he’d have to explain he knew Maggie before she could walk.

“That makes sense. I probably would’ve run into you if you’d been here often.” The way she said it sounded bitter, and Bucky latched onto that. “She never mentioned you, though.”

“I’m not a great person to know,” he huffed, running a gloved hand over the edge of the dining table, noting the notches and nicks in the wood.

“You can take those off if you want. I’ll turn the heating up if you’re cold.” Hazel ignored his previous statement, pointing at his hands.

The gloves.

“Uh, no, it’s fine. They’re for, um, circulation.”

“Ah, got it.”

Silence again. And Bucky wondered whether he should just ask about his journal. But asking to pry up a floorboard on a whim probably wouldn’t go over too well. Instead, he tucked his hands in his pockets again and wandered down the hall. It was rude to just explore someone’s home without their permission, he knew that.

But it had been his home first. Hazel, surprisingly, wasn’t bothered, she just followed him.

When they reached the back bedroom, one well-placed dig of his boot and a fake-stumble later, the loose floorboard came up.

“Jesus, you okay?” Hazel asked, holding out a hand to steady him, but Bucky didn’t take it. Instead, he crouched, peering into the small hidey-hole.

There. A shoebox.

Bucky was quickly trying to come up with a way to hide it. Fuck, this was the worst possible way to do it, he realised. There’d be pictures. Pictures of him and his family. And then there’d be questions.

Questions he didn’t want to answer. Fuck, he hadn’t thought this through at all.

Meanwhile, Hazel had pulled the shoebox out into the open, and Bucky could see the small ‘J.B.B.’ scrawled on the lid in pencil. She opened the lid before he could stop her, distract her. When her mouth popped open in a silent gasp, Bucky knew his brief companionship would be over. But Hazel pulled out a key; a small, brass key on a piece of black cord.

The shoebox lay forgotten as she turned to the wardrobe, clutching the key to her chest. Using the distraction as his opportunity, Bucky quickly rifled through the remaining contents of the box, tucking the journal, as well as a handful of photographs, into his jacket pocket. All that remained were a few torn-out newspaper articles and a couple of sketches.

Had he done those?

Bucky stared at his hands for a moment, trying to figure out if he had been an artist. If he picked up a pencil, a paintbrush, would his muscles remember what to do? Would he be able to craft something beautiful, for once, with these hands?

“Oh.”

The sound was so weak, so quiet, that something in Bucky’s stomach dropped. He lifted his gaze to Hazel; she held a neatly folded, triangular bundle in her hands. Oh.

The once-white stars, yellowed with age, were stark against the navy fabric, faded red stripes poking through.

Bucky rose to his feet, knees trembling, and crossed the room. Standing behind Hazel, he stared down at the flag. The flag that would’ve been draped over an empty coffin, his empty coffin. The realisation hit him with such sickening clarity that he was afraid he’d fall to the floor. He’d had no idea what had happened, in his supposed death or thereafter. All he could ever truly, wholly remember was the way he’d been treated by his captors.

But someone had mourned his death.

For a moment, he envisioned an empty church, his face in a frame, and his mother, alone, in the front pew. Though he couldn’t currently recall the exact colour of her eyes, nor the way she wore her hair for special occasions, he could easily picture the way she would’ve been twisting her wedding band around her finger.

The image made his stomach lurch, and he had to focus on his breathing to not lose his breakfast.

Hazel set the flag down tenderly, running her hand over the fabric, smoothing out a wrinkle. Bucky watched, heart aching, at the gentleness, the respect, in that touch. She seemed to have forgotten he was even there.

Reaching back into the little cupboard in the back of the wardrobe, she procured another bundle; this time, she unfolded a worn, brown leather jacket. After that, an old sweater that smelled of dust and age and mothballs.

Then, an envelope. With his name on it.

Hazel frowned, running her fingers over the cursive script, and Bucky swore he could feel that touch on the back of his neck.

“I suppose this is for you,” she muttered, and he could hear the suspicion in her tone, clear as day. Regardless, he took the letter from her, tucking it into his back pocket.

Without a backward glance, Hazel picked up the leather jacket and sweater, tucking the flag beneath her arm, and left. Bucky thought to follow her but couldn’t find the strength to move. The knowledge of the journal, photographs, and letter now in his possession had set his heart racing. He could have answers, he realised. Real, proper records of who he was. Who he had been before he’d been ruined, broken like a disobedient dog, forced to obey through cruelty and control.

But why was he so hesitant now? What was he so afraid of?

He supposed the better question was what he wasn’t afraid of.

Turning to the window, he contemplated just leaving. Vanishing. Bucky had always been good at that. But the creaking floorboard drew his attention to where Hazel stood in the doorway, red-lined eyes tracking his movements. The slight, conflicted disappointment in her gaze made him pause.

Something in brain ignited with shame, and he felt he’d been on the receiving end of that kind of gaze many times in his life.

“I know we just met, but if you have anything to say, anything to share about my grandmother, or whatever. Please just tell me.” Hazel looked so defeated, slumped against the doorframe, rubbing at the frown lines between her eyebrows. She just looked so… tired.

Bucky wanted to tell the truth, the whole truth, he really did. And that startled him. It startled him because the only reason he wanted to spill every dirty, horrific memory he had in his wretched head was the simple fact that somebody had asked. But where would he even begin? And as he looked up at Hazel from beneath his lowered brow, noting the haze in her eyes, void of emotion, he swallowed roughly.

This woman was grieving, this stranger was grieving and he was in her space, disrupting her processes.

He had no goddamn right.

“No, no. Mags was just a, uh, she was a good friend of my Ma’s.”

Bucky turned his gaze to the floor, swallowed thickly around the golf ball-sized lump of misery in his throat.

“Right.” Hazel sighed, folding her arms across her chest. “And that letter? That’s her handwriting.”

Bucky shrugged.

“Why would she leave you a letter?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you going to open it?”

Silence.

“Not yet,” he muttered. “Not here.”

Bucky looked up, muscle in his jaw feathering. Hazel wasn’t even looking at him, her gaze had drifted to the open window. Dark eyes clouded over; it was as though she were entranced. But then her bottom lip started to tremble, and she sniffled.

“I think I’d like you to leave, James.”

He nodded, moving past her into the hallway. He said nothing as she followed him to the door, holding it open as he left.

“I’d really appreciate the truth when you’re ready to share it,” was the last thing Hazel said before she shut and locked the door.

Hazel stared at the floor in the back bedroom, the floorboard still knocked askew. The shoebox was gone. James had taken the fucking shoebox. But the rage she tried to feel fell flat, and all that encompassed her was confusion.

She recognised him, and it had been bugging her for days now. Since she’d gotten a proper look at him last week at Julia’s when she’d been with Riley, it had been tugging at the back of her mind. But she couldn’t fucking place it. Who the hell was he?

And why was he lying? What was he lying about?

Shaking all those thoughts from her head, she grabbed her phone and headed to the kitchen. Propped up on the counter, she called her sister to arrange to see her nephews, (like it was a fucking booking system or something), then she called Harley, who picked up on the first ring with a delighted gasp.

“Hi! I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve been meaning to call, but I’ve been knee-deep in dust over here.”

Harley’s melodic chuckle echoed down the line. “You sound better, how are you feeling?”

Hazel swallowed, shrugging even though her friend couldn’t see.

“Alright, I guess. Yeah.”

Someone called Harley’s name from far away and she giggled, and Hazel wondered where she might be.

“Look, I’ve gotta go, but do you want to grab dinner on Friday night? I’ve found a new ramen place that I think you’ll love.”

“Sounds good. Text me the address and I’ll meet you there at six?”

“Perfect, okay, bye!”

The call ended, leaving only a hollow beeping in her ear, and Hazel set the phone down. She thought about calling her father, then swallowed the acidity that arose with that line of thinking. So instead, she wandered into the living room and flopped onto the couch, throwing an arm over her eyes to block out the sunlight streaming through the curtains. With a long sigh, Hazel began to cry.

She thought about her grandmother, of all the hours they’d spent in this very room, half-finished puzzles spread out on the coffee table because they always got distracted by whatever shitty soap was playing on the television, even though they swore they wouldn’t.

And she thought of her sister, who she loved so dearly, and who she knew loved her just the same, but the distance between them seemed too wide. She missed the early days when Jo’s firstborn son, Harry, couldn’t sleep and Hazel would receive a call in the middle of the night from Jo, asking for her company. They’d drive the streets, baby Harry finally snoozing, and she and Jo would talk and laugh quietly, a playlist full of songs they both loved drifting softly from the speakers.

And though she really tried not to, she thought of her ex-boyfriend. Reece. The way he’d decided to ‘step back’ from the relationship because he was falling in love with somebody else, and that it wasn’t fair to her. The last she’d heard, several months ago, was that he’d flown off to London.

Subsequently, she then thought of Harley. Fuck, Hazel was a shitty friend. She felt she never had the energy anymore to go out, but Harley was, and always had been, wonderful. Hazel couldn’t lose her, too.

And, for a few brief moments, she thought of James. The familiarity that lingered just out of her reach. She knew him, somehow. Was certain of it.

The back of her arm was warm, and probably sunburned, and the noise of traffic had quieted. Out on the street, the morning rush came to an end. She only had one more day until she was back out among those masses, armed with her beloved custom briefcase, a pencil skirt, and anti-snag stockings.

One more day to have zero semblance of organisation. One more day to waste on sorting through her grandmother’s things, knowing she’d just put everything in the ‘keep’ pile.

Everything here had a memory attached to it, down to the ornate silver teaspoons with little teddy bears on the handles that she’d used to set out for her grandmother’s Sunday afternoon tea parties with all her friends from church.

Her grandmother had been the last one left of them in the end, and Hazel thought about that fact more often than she thought she would.

Hazel had very little of her own after spending most of her time flying from city to city for her work as a live-in caretaker. Her grandmother had always been her favourite person to take care of. Never really staying in one city for too long, and the only constant being her grandmother’s brownstone. Though she had a storage shed with the few pieces of furniture she owned, as well as her book collection, childhood keepsakes, and her out-of-season clothes, Hazel’s life could fit in a couple of suitcases.

Hazel had altered her position, so now she’d be responsible for assigning caretakers and reviewing patient applications and needs to pair them with carers that would best suit them. Less hands on, which was what she needed. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to step into that role again without thinking of her grandmother.

She would never hold another warm, wrinkled hand. Never be able to walk past the chemist without the eye-watering scent of muscle-soothing balm drifting by. Never lose another game of mahjong or dominoes because she’d never play it. Never hear another story about when her mother was a girl, nor about herself when she was just a baby.

The ugly sob tore from her throat, forcing her to sit upright or else she’d choke on her own saliva. Hunched over on the couch, elbows on her knees, head in her hands, Hazel let every awful sound out of her body, every rattling whimper, every heaving cry. And as quickly as it started, it ended.

Wiping her eyes, Hazel counted her breaths until they steadied, and her whole body relaxed as she let out a long sigh.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, standing up from the couch with a groan. Stretching, she yawned.

Her feet led her to the back bedroom of their own accord, and as she pressed her back to the wall and slid to the ground, she pulled the brown leather jacket onto her lap. Running her fingers over every stitch ad buckle, Hazel was mesmerised by the coolness of the leather against her skin.

The tag had the initials ‘J. B. B.’ hand-stitched in red thread.

The cuffs had little stars hand-stitched in white.

Hazel fell asleep right there, curled up on her side in a patch of sunlight, clutching the jacket to her chest.

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes fic #james buchanan barnes fanfic #the winter soldier fic #the winter soldier fanfic

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lungthief · 9 months

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listen. i know it's not 2014 anymore and i know it's just a throwaway line and that the russo brothers didnt intend for marvel action blockbuster captain america the winter soldier to become the tragic gay love story that never was but man. having steve say "it's kind of hard to find someone with shared life experience" in a conversation about romantic relationships right before the bucky reveal is so cruel. it's not just about steve and bucky obviously having the shared experience of being "out of time," it's the fact that they've both been stripped of their humanity in opposite directions. steve is a legend, he is an american hero and a national icon before he is a human being the same way that bucky is a weapon and a killing machine before he is a human being. steve knows that anyone who falls in love with him in the 21st century fell in love with captain america first, and that's just not him. but then the one person who knew him first and knew him best and loved him (not captain america, that little guy from brooklyn) so much he died for it is alive, impossibly. and it's a miracle because he's back and it's horrific because he's back under the worst possible circumstances. but to steve, the winter soldier is worth tearing the world apart for because he's always been bucky first. they find each other and suddenly they're human again. and maybe, despite it all, being "out of time" becomes a blessing, because in this century they'd finally be allowed to love each other the way they've always wanted to. like real people do.

like. no. the captain america trilogy isn't about two queer men traumatized and alienated by war and modern life rediscovering and reclaiming their humanity through their love for each other. but. i mean. it couldve been

#like you get why all the fics about those two are insane right. the narrative is just so goddamn compelling #and thats not even getting into the whole thing abt the serum curing steve of every ailment except his love for bucky #which makes him realize it was never an ailment to begin with (despite the commonly held beliefs about homosexuality in the 1940s)#and bucky being *electroshocked* again and again into forgetting steve #like howd you make your gay ass movie that gay and not realize it. its kinda impressive #sorry for the ridiculous stucky retrospective its 4am and i rewatched the winter soldier recently #its not that deep. its not its not its not . but if it was anything other than what it is it could have been. and thats the worst part #shut up riley #marvel #stucky

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kgficz · 3 months

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Don’t Give Me Up

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Platonic!Sam Wilson x Reader

Summary: You were on the run from SHIELD. When Bucky and Sam find you, will they turn you over, or will they help you?

Word Count: 2.3k

The cold night air grazed the faint hairs on your skin; causing shivers through your body. “This is so stupid” you mumble to yourself as you move through the dark corridor. Running from SHIELD was certainly not on your to do list for the week and yet here you were; accused of murdering one of their agents.

Your feet were light on the ground; after you’d lost the agents coming after you, you figured you were in the clear but better safe than sorry. You continued to make your way through this abandoned warehouse, your eyes struggling to adjust to the light.

Soon you heard a shuffle behind you, causing you to holt to a stop. Your heart pounded in your chest as you kept your head facing forward.

“I’m not gonna hurt you” the voice said from a few feet behind. You turned around slowly, carefully.

Your eyes locked in on him as you turned; you cocked your head as you realised who it was. The Winter Soldier… well, ex- Winter Soldier from what you heard on TV.

His eyes focused in on you as you stepped back, looking around for a way out of this.

“I didn’t kill any agents” you said quickly, somewhat panicked.

“Yea I figured” he replied as he looked you over. “You don’t look like the murderous type” he added with a huff.

A deep breath escaped you as you sighed in relief, finally someone didn’t believe this crap.

“But” he said as he stepped forward, “you do know something”.

“I don’t” you answered quickly, keeping your hands out. You continued to back away until your shoulders hit the concrete wall behind you.

Within a few seconds, The Falcon was running around the corner; stepping beside Bucky. It was enough seeing one superhero, and now you had to deal with two? Great.

“Just come with us” Sam Wilson said, keeping his voice calm in an attempt to make you feel comfortable.

You realised then that to the left of you, there was an open space between piles of crates. Might as well take your chances.

You bolted.

Weaving through the wooden planks and out into the wide warehouse. It was huge with no place to hide. You headed for the door on the opposite side as Bucky and Sam went after you. It didn’t take long before a hand caught your arm; pulling you back.

The force came so quickly, you thought you might go flying. Bucky’s hands held your arms down as you struggled, attempting to pull yourself away from him.

“Take it easy” he said calmly, as though keeping you still was no effort to him whatsoever.

“Let go of me!” You yelled as you continued to push and kick at him. His metal arm wrapped around you, holding you still.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep that up, sweetheart” he exclaimed before you finally began to calm down. You had no chance against him, that much was clear.

“We’re not going to hand you over to SHIELD. Not yet” Sam said as he stepped in front of you. His eyes looked over to Bucky, gesturing for him to let you go.

Bucky’s arms dropped away slowly and you stepped away from him, with a scowl on your face. Bucky sighed as he stood where he was.

Your eyes looked back at Sam now as your mind raced. As far as you knew, these men worked for SHIELD.

“What do you want then?” You questioned before clenching your jaw in frustration.

“We want you to tell us what’s really going on” he answered.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you replied quietly.

“I think you do” he answered.

“You might not have killed an agent, but you know more than you’re leading on” he added as his eyes scanned your face.

You looked away now, taking in a few breaths; contemplating. You weren’t exactly a fan of these superhero guys; how could you really trust them not to turn you over?

Whilst you were too busy thinking to yourself, SHIELD agents burst in through the doors; their guns raised and aimed at you.

Your arms immediately rose, praying to god they would not fire. Sam and Bucky looked at each other, clearly shocked as the agents grabbed you. You were roughly hauled to the ground as handcuffs were placed on your wrists behind your back.

“Hey. Easy” Bucky said as he walked over with his hand out.

“You’re under arrest” the agent announced to you, ignoring Bucky’s words before he lifted you back to your feet.

Agents were swarming you, keeping Sam and Bucky out of your line of sight as they drew you away. You were screwed now.

It had been hours since you arrived here; sat in the middle of a small white room with your hands cuffed on the table in front of you. No one had spoken to you since you were thrown in here. Your head rested down against your arms whilst you focused on breathing slowly, staying calm. Should you ask for a lawyer? Does SHIELD even allow lawyers? You sighed… this was a mess.

Time continued to pass until the door swung open; causing your eyes to snap up.

“Shit” you mumbled to yourself once you recognised it was Sam and Bucky walking into the room. They sat down across from you, their eyes locked in on you.

You pulled yourself up in your seat, trying your best to remain brave despite the fact that you were losing your mind with each passing second.

“You ready to talk to us?” Sam said carefully.

You pursed your lips before speaking “So much for not handing me into SHIELD” you retorted causing Bucky to look down as he smirked to himself.

Your eyes shot daggers at him as your attention turned over to himself instead of Sam. “What’s so funny?” You questioned.

“Nothing” he replied, throwing his hands up. You sighed as you looked back over to Sam.

“Why don’t you just tell us your side of the story?” He asked with a gentle tone.

“My side?” You questioned. “My side is- I didn’t kill anyone” you answered firmly.

“Then tell us who did” Sam said causing you to stop, processing your thoughts.

“What makes you think I’d know something like that?” You asked, feeling your heart rate pick up.

Bucky looked over at Sam now as they exchanged looks.

“Why else would you run?” Sam returned .

Your jaw clenched as he spoke. You needed to keep your mouth shut. No one could know what you had seen. They’d kill you. Sam and Bucky noticed your refusal to speak.

“We can keep you safe” Sam said, almost as though he was reading your mind.

“I don’t need your help” you replied quickly as your eyes darted between the two of them.

Bucky leaned forward now, his hands on the table as his eyes locked with yours.

“Who are you really running from?” He questioned.

You avoided his eyes, gulping. Your hands now rested in your lap, you wished you could crawl inside yourself and disappear.

“No one” you replied quietly, trying to push away the flood of memories attempting to appear. Their screams echoed in your mind as you shook your head.

“Let us help you” he said, wishing you would trust his words.

“What are you two doing in here?” An agent yelled as he stormed into the room; his eyes locked on Sam and Bucky.

Bucky let out a sigh as Sam stood up, facing the agent. “We just needed to ask a few questions” he answered.

“On what authority?” The agent questioned.

Bucky’s eyes were on you as Sam went back and forth with the SHIELD agent. Soon the agent was kicking them out of the room. You didn’t spare them a glance as they left, hoping you would not have to speak to them again.

Hours passed when you were finally dragged into a cell; the concrete walls surrounding you. This place looked as though it was fit to hold the Hulk and yet here you were, deemed to be such a threat. You rolled your eyes at the thought.

You laid down on the flimsy mattress; you back feeling the metal bars beneath it. The darkness swallowed you whole as you thought you could hear your own heart pounding in your chest.

The small ceiling loomed over you, enclosing you in this small space. You figured at least this was the safest place you could be. It wasn’t long before you drifted off, the exhaustion taking over.

You woke to the sound of gunshots, causing you to shoot up. What the hell? You whispered to yourself as you stood up. Through the small glass panel in the door, you could see men running with weapons drawn. You immediately ducked down, hoping to stay out of sight.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you chanted as you moved back. This can’t be good.

As the gunfire continued, you saw blood splattered on the glass of the door. You felt your stomach drop.

The door flew open as men rushed in. These were no SHIELD agents. A man’s hand wrapped tightly around your bicep; hauling you to your feet. You winced in pain at his grip; trying to pull yourself away. As you were walking out; he shoved you against the doorframe, inflicting pain as you moved. You couldn’t help the groan the escaped you.

The men split up, two of them moving with you whilst the others went the other way. SHIELD agents came running around the corner, but were quickly taken down. The man holding you still managed to fire with insane accuracy.

You continued down the hall, reaching the corner when suddenly the two men with you were pulled away. You felt yourself fall to the ground; keeping your head low. Your hands covered your face as you heard the guns going off.

A gun landed on the ground in front of you, causing you to gasp before you were lifted from the ground.

“Come with me!” A voice said from behind you. You turned around quickly to see Bucky standing before you. This time instead of arguing, you nodded quickly.

Bucky’s hand quickly grabbed yours as he guided you through the hall; you realised soon that he was aiming to get out of the building.

He held you behind him as men came into the haul. You watched as he took each of them down easily, barely breaking a sweat.

“What the f-“ you began to say before he tugged at your hand, continuing to move until you reached a stairwell. He looked over the railing to check for more men before you began to run down the steps.

You realised your fitness could use some improvement as you reached the bottom; yours lungs felt as though they were going to collapse. Watching Bucky move so easily made you curse him in your head.

Bucky pulled you out of the building and continued running until he approached a motorbike in the underground car park.

“Get on!” He yelled as he jumped on, urging you to get on the back.

“Oh god-“ you muttered before climbing on behind him; your arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

Within seconds, he took off; hearing the yelp that came out of as he accelerated. He took off into the streets as the sound of gunshots finally began to fade off into the distance. He noticed at no point did your grip loosen. If he was a normal man, he thought you would have suffocated him by now.

After what felt like a lifetime; he pulled into another underground parking lot. He turned off the ignition when he came to a stop and noticed your grip was still tight.

“You’re okay now” he said as he looked over his shoulder. You felt yourself breathing quickly; the adrenaline rushing through your veins.

“I think- I’m going to have- a heart attack” you panted. You felt him chuckle under your hold.

You eventually loosened your grip before he stepped off the bike. His arm wrapped around you gently as he guided you off. He began walking towards another door and you followed close behind. Your eyes looked up at you walked in the door.

“More steps” you sighed, not noticing Bucky’s small smile as you walked up each level.

When you reached the top, he lead you to a loft and let you walk in first. Your eyes widened, this place was huge. Bucky’s eyes were on you as you looked around with your lips parted, taking it all in.

“Sam should be here soon” Bucky announced as he walked over to the kitchen bench. You moved over past the couch; looking out the large window which gave a wide view of the city below.

You nodded as he spoke, not entirely processing what he was saying. He eventually walked over to you, his gaze softening.

“So… you’re not turning me over to SHIELD?” You asked softly before glancing over at him.

Despite his height and muscular frame (and the fact that you’d seen him take down several men with relative ease), he felt non-threatening.

“No” he answered plainly.

Your eyes traced the features of his face; why did it take you so long to notice how handsome he was? You shook your head slightly at your thought. Pull yourself together.

“But I think it’s time you talk” he added before letting out a breath. His voice wasn’t as stern as before; but you could tell he was serious.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you debated the issue with yourself.

“I can’t” you answered anxiously, your eyes looking down at your fingers.

He took a step forward, only standing a few feet from you. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you” he said, matter-of-factly.

Your eyes shot up, staring into his.

“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt” you murmured before letting out a deep breath.

“Then let us help you” he replied.

Maybe you could trust him. Maybe you couldn’t. Right now, the best way to survive, is with him.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fic #sam wilson #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier fic #tfatws #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes

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ellemj · 4 months

Text

Bigger Than He Was

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT

Request by @littlemiss-yeehaw: jealous!Bucky, fake dating, handjob.

Summary: Bucky pretends to be your new man when you run into your ex in public. However, the little act of pretending sparks something inside of him that he didn't know was there.

Warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption, handjob, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight size kink, jealous!Bucky, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 7.8k

A/N: The first request I wrote from the smut menu had to be from my Tumblr best friend. Not only does she pre-read nearly everything that I post, but she keeps me from deleting my blog on a near daily basis, and she keeps me sane. I hope you all enjoy it as much as she did. If it wasn't for this girl, my blog would've been deleted before Needs & Wants was ever completed lmao.

You’ve decided that no one in the world looks more out of place than a super soldier in a grocery store. Specifically, a super soldier in the produce aisle of a small local market. He looks like a bull in a China shop as he scours through a bin of tomatoes to find ones he approves of. He holds one tomato in each of his leather gloved hands as he compares them carefully, acting like choosing between the two is every bit as difficult as deciding whether someone lives or dies in his usual line of work.

“They’re pretty much the same, Bucky, and we only need two. Just put them in a bag.” You say with a sigh, resting your elbows on the handle of the shopping cart that you’ve been pushing as you’ve trailed behind him. Though you’re the one carrying the team’s grocery list, Bucky’s been the one pulling things off of the shelves and setting them in the cart. You originally suggested each of you taking half of the list and splitting up to get the shopping done faster, and to avoid the pointless arguments and annoyances you’d face in each other’s presence, but Bucky’s only response to your idea was a furrowed brow and silence. So, you’ve been following him around with the shopping cart safely between the two of you.

Bucky starts to put both of the tomatoes down and pick two different ones just to bother you, but he takes the high road and bags the two he’s already holding instead. He’s usually assigned to grocery shopping with Sam, which he definitely prefers, but with Sam off to visit his family this week, he ended up being stuck with you.

“What’s next?” Bucky asks, setting the plastic bag of produce in the cart and then casting you a sideways glance. You cross tomatoes off of the small piece of paper in your hand before moving on to read the next item.

“We’re done with food items, next is ibuprofen, melatonin, and some feminine products.” You answer, lifting your gaze to meet his as you tap the pen against the piece of paper absentmindedly. Bucky nods curtly and starts leading the way down the aisle, knowing all of the aisles with medication, first aid, and toiletry type supplies are on the opposite end of the store. You follow a few feet behind him, missing your usual shopping buddy, Wanda. Though it’s a menial task, you always seem to have a fun time when the two of you are on the grocery schedule for the week. Bucky is a stark contrast to your far more bubbly, lighthearted friend.

You’re lost in thought as you turn a corner and enter the pharmacy aisle, not paying any attention as Bucky looks through various types of over-the-counter medications. It isn’t until you hear a voice one aisle over that you straighten up and tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The voice sounds familiar, so familiar that you find your ears straining to hear it better so you can identify it. Is it an old friend? Someone from SHIELD? You can’t be sure, but you’re starting to think it isn’t a friend by the way your nerves seem to be rising with every incoherent word that they mutter. You leave Bucky standing at one end of the aisle as you walk ahead, trying to get closer to the source of the voice. You’re nearly at the opposite end of the aisle when suddenly, the front end of another shopping cart appears and quickly turns in front of you, almost colliding with the front end of yours. You stop abruptly for two reasons. The first reason being so you don’t cause a pileup on aisle thirteen. The second reason being because you now see whose voice was causing your heart rate to elevate and your stomach to twist into a knot. Your fucking ex-boyfriend.

“Oh, wow, hey!” The man before you extends the greeting so casually, as if he didn’t waste a year of your life with meaningless words and empty promises. He raises a hand to rub the back of his neck, his eyes darting over his shoulder just as a pretty blonde woman steps into view. Oh. “This is uh, this is my girlfriend.” He gestures to the woman before looking back at you with a wary glance, clearly trying to gauge how you feel about him committing to someone new so soon. The woman offers a small smile and wave as she introduces herself by name, but it all goes right over your head. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, unable to tear your eyes away from the piece of shit behind the cart full of organic produce and a questionable amount of wine.

Bucky’s watching everything unfold from a few yards behind, acting as if he’s still deciding between a name brand bottle of ibuprofen and a generic version of the same. He gives you a few seconds to soak in the obviously awkward social situation as his eyes analyze your body language. You’re tense, your grip on the handle of the shopping cart is so tight that your knuckles are turning white. It’s been ten seconds since the woman introduced herself to you and you still haven’t uttered a word. Bucky glances to his right and notices the selection of condoms, lube, and pregnancy tests spread over the shelves next to the medication section. He only takes a second to weigh his options: let you continue to flounder in front of your shitty ex and his new victim or offer you an easy reprieve while simultaneously sending your ex into a mental spiral. His gloved hand wraps around a couple of boxes of pregnancy tests and he pulls them off of the shelf, signifying he’s chosen the latter.

“Oh, trying for a baby?” Your ex jokes when Bucky approaches from behind you and drops a handful of pregnancy tests into the cart.

“No, it’s just smart to have a few of these on hand when we only ever fuck raw. Do we know you?” Bucky’s tone is calm and even, like he’s just said something completely within the ordinary. It breaks you out of the trance you were in and you blink your eyes as you feel the heat from Bucky’s body enveloping you in warmth. He cages your body between his and the cart, his chest brushing against your back as he places his hands on either side of yours on the shopping cart handle. You don’t see the way his lips curve upward into a shit-eating grin as your ex’s face falls at both Bucky’s unfiltered words and the public display of affection he’s witnessing.

“Aren’t you…” The man addresses Bucky with slightly widened eyes and an unsure voice. You almost laugh at the effect Bucky has on the poor guy’s demeanor, and the fact that Bucky towers a few inches over the man is just icing on the cake.

“Bucky.” Your ex has just realized that not only are you grocery shopping with the Winter Soldier, but you’ve also been letting him fuck you.

---

Your week has been full of unexpected moments, but two stand out in particular. The first moment was when Bucky so calmly chose to play the role of your fake boyfriend at the grocery store three nights ago. Nearly every waking moment since then has been spent replaying it in your head, wondering why he decided to step in and do that for you, why he decided to take such a blunt approach and tell your ex that the two of you prefer unprotected sex, and how the hell he acted as if nothing happened immediately after the interaction was over. The second moment is unfolding right now. Your eyes are locked in on your phone screen as you mull over the text that’s displayed there.

Are you free tonight? Would love to sit down and catch up, want to talk about things.

You don’t have the number saved in your phone but you know exactly who it is. It’s the same shitty ex you ran into two nights ago, the same one who now thinks you’re fucking the Winter Soldier. Before you’ve even considered responding, a second message from the same unsaved number rolls in.

I’ll be at the bar we used to go to, the one off of 83rd street, in an hour. Hope to see you there.

The way your face scrunches up in confusion at the sight of the two texts on your phone screen piques Bucky’s interest as he steps off of the elevator and uses the collar of his t-shirt to dab sweat off of his neck. He’s just finished a pretty strenuous workout and had every intention of heading straight to his room to shower and spend the rest of the night in there, but he can’t ignore the feeling of some kind of invisible string tugging him in your direction. It was only two nights ago that he pressed himself against you in the grocery store and pretended like he knew what it’s like to have you in his bed. It was only two nights ago that you became a near constant thought in the back of his mind.

“Don’t tell me he texted you.” Bucky’s voice catches you off guard. You lift your gaze from your phone screen and lean back into the couch cushions, attempting to look perfectly at ease in his presence. Truth be told, you’ve been a little on edge around him since the night in the grocery store, but you don’t know why. Maybe because he saw you in such an embarrassing and vulnerable moment, in your own personal hell.

“He didn’t text me.” You lie, watching him carefully as the elevator doors close behind him and he takes the few steps across the room to reach the sectional you’re currently lounging on. It’s odd to see him sink into the opposite end of the piece of furniture so comfortably, like he’s such a normal guy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him sit in the living room of his own free will, and it’s a sight to see.

“You’re a bad liar.” Bucky huffs. His expression turns thoughtful as he thinks back to his encounter with your ex that night. The corners of Bucky’s lips curl up into a smile when he remembers the way the guy practically shrank when he heard that the two of you like to fuck raw. “What does he want?” Bucky seems to have a sixth sense about this shit, so you decide to go with it and tell him the truth, see where it gets you.

“He said he wants to catch up and talk about things.”

“Right after seeing you with another guy.” Bucky points out, hoping you’ll see where this is going. You shrug your shoulders and cross your arms over your chest.

“I guess so, or maybe it’s unrelated. People break up and then discuss it later for closure sometimes, it’s a thing, Bucky.”

“So, you’re going?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” You answer honestly. You watch as Bucky nods slowly, as if he’s digesting the information and deciding what to do with it. He uses the collar of his t-shirt to wipe a bit of sweat away from his neck again, drawing your gaze down to the flexing of his bicep. You’re quick to avert your gaze back up to his eyes, but the satisfied smirk on his face tells you that he caught you looking.

“We’re going.” Bucky decides, sitting up a little straighter on the couch and running a hand through his sweaty hair. The bewildered look that takes over your face says it all.

“What the hell do you mean we’re going? There’s no we here, it’s just me.”

“I meant exactly what I said, we’re going.”

---

You stand in the garage of the compound, where everyone’s various vehicles are stored away safely. Your fingers pick at the frays of your black jeans absentmindedly as you lean against a concrete pillar, waiting for Bucky. You know you should just get in your own car and leave without him, there’s absolutely no good that will come out of letting him tag along for this. Yet, something in the back of your mind is tugging at you to stay and wait for him, to see what might come of this. Looking up at your reflection in the car window a few feet away from you, you take in the sight of your little ensemble. You’re wearing dark jeans paired with a tight little long-sleeved crop top that shows the tiniest bit of your midriff. You wanted to wear something fairly plain yet something that showed a little skin, so this is what you settled on.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky’s outfit for tonight will go well with your own. He’s wearing dark jeans as well, but with a dark t-shirt and black leather jacket. As the elevator carries him down to the lowest floor of the compound, he has a brief second of clarity where he asks himself what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. First, he went against every rational thought in his mind when he pretended to be your boyfriend in a damn grocery store. Then, he spent two nights thinking about what it might’ve been like if he actually had been fucking you raw like he’d told to your ex he was. Those two nights ruined him. You ruined him. It took less than 48 hours for his mind to become completely preoccupied with you.

When the elevator slows to a stop and the doors slide open to let him into the private parking garage beneath the compound, his eyes fall on you instantly. Fuck. One look at you and he’s immediately decided that you’re not taking a car, no, you’re taking his bike. Hell, you’re dressed near-perfectly for it. The only issue is that bit of smooth skin you have showing beneath the hem of your little top, he’s not going to take you out on his bike and risk ruining that perfect skin of yours with road rash.

The ding of the elevator draws your attention to your right, where Bucky is stepping into the parking garage looking totally different than when you saw him upstairs half an hour ago. His messy hair has been washed and dried, his flesh and metal biceps are hidden within the sleeves of his leather jacket, and his neck is no longer glistening with a sheen of sweat. You’re unashamedly focusing on the way his jeans are accentuating the muscles of his thighs when he starts stripping off his leather jacket.

“Put this on.” He says as he holds the jacket out to you with one hand, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans with the other to fish out the key for his bike. Your eyes widen as you stare at the jacket in his outstretched hand. Shaking your head, you take a step back from him.

“Why?”

“Because you’re not riding on the back of my bike with skin showing, it’s not safe.”

“The back of your bike? Bucky, we’re taking a car.” You say defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest. Bucky can’t ignore the way your breasts are slightly pushed up by the action, a hint of cleavage peeking out over the lowcut neckline of your top. He quickly averts his gaze back to his motorcycle that stands a few feet in front of you both, a sigh leaving his lips at your stubbornness.

“Just put on the damn jacket.” He says, looking over at you one more time, but this time with a softened expression. You don’t know why you comply and take the jacket from him, but you do. It’s warmed from his body heat when you slip your arms into it and the way it engulfs you and pulls down on your shoulders with a bit of weight is almost comforting.

The motorcycle ride to the bar, however, is anything but comforting. The only other time you’ve ever been so close to Bucky was that night at the grocery store when he cozied up behind you for show. But this felt different. This involved your chest pressed against his back, your inner thighs brushing against his hips, and your arms wrapped around his torso. This felt intimate. It felt the same way to Bucky and he couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard he tried. When he stopped at a redlight in the city, you let your hold around his abdomen relax for a moment. Your hands slid down to rest on the tops of his thighs as you remained pressed against his back, and he was praying for the light to turn green again before one of your hands had a chance to shift and find out how hard he was beneath the fabric of his jeans. He can only blame himself for the torture, since he was the one that insisted you take the bike.

When you turn onto the right street, you’re quick to tap Bucky’s thigh with your hand, completely missing the way he tenses up beneath your unexpected touch. You use that same hand to point to a small parking garage across the street from the bar that you’ll be heading into, and Bucky gets the signal. It’s only two minutes later that he’s parking his bike on the third floor of the garage and trying to keep his eyes off of you as you stand beside the bike, removing your helmet carefully. Some part of him can’t help but think that you’re being so careful because you want to look your best when you waltz into the bar to meet your ex, and he fucking hates it. He has the sudden urge to mess your hair up and send you in there looking like shit. But that urge only makes him think about all of the ways he could mess your hair up. He could grab you by it and pull you against him, he could run his hands through it and rake it into a ponytail while you’re on your knees for him…shit. He just volunteered to drive you to the bar to meet your ex. He can’t do a damn thing.

You hand Bucky your helmet and immediately start smoothing down your hair, seeing the look of disdain he gives you but choosing to ignore it. He had no obligation to be here with you tonight, but he insisted, so he has to put up with it.

“You don’t have to go in with me, I can do this on my own.” You say, hoping Bucky will choose to wait for you in the parking garage rather than go inside the bar with you.

“What are you planning to do?” Bucky asks, swinging his leg over as he dismounts the bike and joins you on the concrete floor. He stands in front of you, slipping his gloves off and resting them on the seat of the bike before reaching under the chin of his helmet to undo the strap there. Your eyes drift to the veins on his flesh hand and golden accents on his vibranium hand as you formulate a believable response.

“Hear him out, give him closure or whatever he’s here for.”

“Whatever he’s here for?” Bucky repeats your words almost sarcastically, scoffing beneath his helmet. When he pulls it off and rests it on the seat next to his gloves, you can see he’s scowling. “Why are you playing dumb? He’s here for you.”

“No, he isn’t. He’s with someone else now, and he thinks I am too.” You point out. A low chuckle rumbles past Bucky’s lips as he runs a hand through his hair and starts toward the concrete staircase on the other end of the floor.

“That’s exactly why he’s doing this, because he thinks you’re with someone else and he can’t stand it.” Bucky sounds so sure of himself, as if he’s experienced something like this before. In fact, he sounds so sure that it makes you wonder if he really has experienced this before.

“You think he’s jealous? You saw the girl he was with, didn’t you?” You question, falling into step next to Bucky. His leather jacket still sits heavy on your shoulders but giving it back to him hasn’t even crossed your mind yet. Bucky’s hoping you’ll forget about it and keep it on when you walk in and sit down across from that piece of shit ex you’re here for.

“She doesn’t have shit on you and he knows it.” His words leave your lips parted and your eyes widening in surprise as he reaches the staircase and starts heading down in front of you. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. For the most part, you’ve only ever heard him talk about you with an air of annoyance or indifference, but you could swear that what he just said was almost complimentary. If you could see the grimace on Bucky’s face, you’d know you were right. When he saw the blonde in the grocery store, he wanted to laugh at the way the guy had downgraded after losing you. She was pretty, sure, but you glow like the fucking sun even on your worst day.

“So, what should I be doing here tonight then?” You ask, knowing Bucky probably has a plan in mind if he came all this way just to witness what’s about to go down.

“Showing him that you don’t need him, that you’re better off without him.” You reach the bottom of the stairs and step out onto the sidewalk across from the bar. Bucky turns to face you as you scan the area for a crosswalk.

“And how do I do that?”

“For starters…” Bucky says, stepping closer to you and grabbing the front of his leather jacket that you’re still sporting, “keep this on.”

---

Bucky’s been standing at the bar for the last fifteen minutes, nursing both a beer and an aching jaw. The ache is from how hard he’s been clenching his teeth together since your ex strolled in and took the seat across from you at a little two-seater table across the room. Of course, the guy showed up without his new girl. And, of course, he’s been trying like hell to get you to smile and laugh at whatever half-assed jokes he’s been cracking since he sat down. Bucky knew the guy wasn’t after closure.

He watches with a less-than-pleased look on his face as the guy leans his elbows on the table and rests his hands a little too close to yours, but you don’t pull away. You’re sitting facing Bucky’s direction, yet you haven’t once let your eyes flit up to meet his. It’s infuriating. Bucky strains his ears to pick out your conversation through the din of the usual bar chatter around him. He listens intently as the guy tells you that it was nice to run into you at the grocery store, that he didn’t know if he’d ever see you again, that he missed the way you laughed. What a fucking ass. If Bucky remembers correctly, from overhearing gossip among the team, the guy had you nearly head over heels for him, and then one day he pulled the rug out from under you in and instant. He never even gave you much of a reason why. He simply called you up, ended the relationship over the phone, and a week later you heard through the grapevine that he’d met someone else. Why you felt compelled to meet the guy here tonight, Bucky will never understand. He doesn’t think the prick deserves even a minute of your time.

“So, you’re really seeing someone else now?” The man’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard to Bucky’s sensitive ears, but he continues to focus on your conversation anyway. Bucky has to know how you’ll respond. He watches out of the corner of his eye as you push a stray lock of hair back over your shoulder, over the shoulder of his leather jacket, and then you blush. Why are you blushing? Bucky’s heart starts to race in the slightest because he can’t figure out if you’re blushing at the idea of you and him being together or at your ex prying into your personal life.

“Yeah, he uh…at the grocery store, he…” You stutter through your answer. Like Bucky previously said, you’re a bad liar. The pink showing through the skin of your cheeks darkens another shade as you look away from your ex. Your eyes finally land on Bucky, who’s now standing at the bar facing you head-on. He holds your gaze assuredly and gives you a small nod, letting you know that you’re saying the right things. Somehow, just making eye contact with him and getting that small nod of approval calms your nerves.

“Right, I remember. I guess I kind of thought that was a joke.”

“A joke?” You ask, a bit offended at your ex’s confession. He rubs his hand across the back of his neck and lets out an awkward laugh before leaning back in his chair comfortably and taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, I mean the guy said you only ever fuck raw. You never once asked me to fuck you raw. It just didn’t sound believable.” Huh. You’re silent for a moment as you sip on your own drink and let your gaze float back to Bucky once more, unaware that he’s just heard every word that the man said. The two of you stare at each other with some kind of…tension in the air between your table and the bar. Honestly, if you and Bucky were actually together in some alternate universe where you didn’t find each other incredibly annoying from the start, you think you would love to let him fuck you without protection. Something about it just sounds so filthy and enticing. But when you imagine it with the man that’s currently sitting in front of you, the man who promised you a lifetime and then kicked you to the curb like a broken piece of furniture, you cringe. No, you never asked him to take off the condom, and you probably never would have. Truthfully, that should’ve been a sign.

Bucky’s eyes analyze the two of you as you put on a tight-lipped smile and then relax in your seat, fiddling with the zipper of the leather jacket draped around your frame.

“It didn’t sound believable?” You ask softly, looking up through your lashes in a way that makes Bucky’s cock twitch, and he’s not even the one you’re looking at. When you do flit your eyes over to him, he can sense the change in your demeanor instantly. You’re not coming off so lighthearted and timid now, you’re giving off an air that says you-don’t-know-who-the-fuck-I-am anymore. “When I look at you, I can’t even fathom the two of us having unprotected sex. It never once crossed my mind to ask you for that. But when I look at him?” You let your gaze travel over to Bucky once more, and this time your ex catches on. He turns in his chair, scanning the bar behind him until he sees the super soldier leaning against the bar with a smug smile on full display. “When I look at him, I can’t stop imagining it.”

---

Bucky’s leather jacket weighing on your shoulders, his body warmth seeping through his t-shirt and offering you reprieve from the wind that’s hitting you both head-on, his right hand reaching back to grip the side of your thigh as he weaves his bike skillfully in and out of traffic on the way back to the compound. All of those things are mixing and swirling together to create a near suffocating tension. You’re focusing on keeping your helmet from bumping into the back of his and even more than that, on keeping your mind out of the damn gutter. What you’d said back at the bar, the final thing you’d said before your ex realized he had no chance at getting back together with you, it was true. When you look at Bucky, you can’t stop imagining him fucking you without anything between your body and his. You don’t know when that started or when it might end, but it’s true. So, you left with him, climbing onto the back of his bike much more willingly than you had earlier in the evening. Not because you wanted to be close to him, but because you wanted to get home as fast as possible so you could get the hell away from him. Where on earth did this new found attraction come from? Why was your mind betraying your body with every single glance in his direction? Fuck physiology.

Bucky can almost hear you overthinking behind him as he turns off of the interstate and onto a quiet, private road leading up to the compound. Hell, he’s overthinking too. He heard what you said at the bar, and he saw the look in your eyes when you said it. Had you been thinking about him the same way he’d been thinking about you since that night at the grocery store. No, there’s no way. If you really had been, then you wouldn’t have wanted to meet up with your ex tonight. Bucky lets out a breath and slows the bike as he nears the entrance to the parking garage. Neither of you said a word when your ex stormed out of the bar, nor did either of you when you made the walk across the street to the public parking garage and started the ride back home. It’s been silent, unbearably silent for too long.

When Bucky finally parks the bike among the various vehicles owned by your friends and colleagues that reside upstairs, it seems as though you can’t get away from him fast enough. You swing your leg over and dismount the bike quickly before slipping your helmet off and taking a few steps over to the wall to set it on the shelf it originally came from. You’re halfway to the elevator when Bucky speaks, stopping you in your tracks.

“The jacket, sweetheart.” He says coolly. When you turn around, you see him still sitting on the bike, looking down at the helmet he holds in his hands. It almost bothers you that he isn’t looking back at you. He can call you sweetheart but he can’t lift his eyes to your face? You let out a deep sigh before walking back over to him and standing a foot away from him and the bike. You strip off the leather jacket a bit reluctantly before holding it out to him. You have to admit you feel a bit like you’re missing something without it on now. Bucky takes it without glancing in your direction, and as soon as you turn on your heel to walk away, you can hear him dismounting the bike and setting his own helmet on the shelf. You’ve just hit the button to call the elevator down to the garage when he decides to speak once again. “You’re a bad liar.”

“What?”

“You’re a bad liar. I don’t know much about you, but I know that.” Bucky says. You stand in front of the elevator but you can’t tear your gaze away from him when he’s speaking so ominously. You watch him carefully as he turns away from the shelf and faces you, but still doesn’t lift his gaze to meet yours. Instead, he smooths out his leather jacket before laying it over one arm and tucking the keys to his bike into the back pocket of his jeans.

“What does that have to do with anything?” You question, crossing your arms over your chest. Your eyes dart back to the screen above the elevator. It’s still so many floors away from reaching you.

“I knew you were lying when you told me he hadn’t texted you. I don’t even think your piece-of-shit ex believed you at first when he asked if you were really seeing someone new, you couldn’t even get a full sentence out. You’re a bad liar.” The words pour out of his mouth with ease, as if he pre-planned the entire speech. When you don’t say anything, he finally lifts his eyes to meet your narrowed stare. A shiver runs down your spine, but you blame it on the fact that you’re no longer wearing his jacket. “When I look at him, I can’t stop imagining it.” When Bucky repeats your words so perfectly, you can feel all of the color draining from your face. “When you said that, you didn’t stutter, you didn’t hesitate. You weren’t lying.”

“You think I was being honest?” The question leaves your lips with a hint of anger edging each word. Bucky merely shrugs in response, tilting his head to the side as he waits for you to answer your own question, since it’s obvious that he thinks you were being honest. “You think I look at you and imagine you fucking me raw?”

“Do you?” Bucky taunts, licking his bottom lip before drawing it between his lips and pressing his top teeth into it. Your gaze darts down to his lips against your better judgement, and when your eyes settle back on his, all you see is a reflection of what you’re sure your own eyes are showing. Lust. He thinks about it. He thinks about fucking you raw. In this moment, you’re sure. In fact, he’s thinking about it right now.

Your feet start moving before you even have a moment to consider the action, they’re carrying you straight toward him, ignoring the elevator that’s just arrived to take you away from him. When you stop a few inches in front of him, he’s staring down at you with a raised brow and building anticipation. He wants your answer.

“Yes.” You breathe the word out. In an instant, Bucky’s dropping his jacket to the floor and tangling his flesh hand in the hair at the nape of your neck as his pulls you into him, crashing his lips against yours. It’s a kiss that takes your breath away and fills your lungs with a fiery burn, yet you don’t want to break for air. You kiss him back, moving your lips to suck along his bottom one as you tilt your head to the right to give each of you better access. Bucky languidly drags the tip of his tongue along your top lip before snaking it lower and letting it delve into your mouth. God, he might’ve imagined fucking you but truthfully, he forgot to imagine kissing you. He never would’ve thought it could be this good. His vibranium arm wraps around your lower back, pulling you closer into him until his body warmth begins sending tingles across the surface of your skin. Once he has you flush against him, that same cool metal hand begins unwrapping from your back and traveling down until it’s in place to grip a handful of your ass, hard. When you gasp into the kiss, Bucky pulls back and bites down on your bottom lip. Fuck. If you don’t stop him now, he won’t be able to stop himself from having you right here in the garage. As if you’re reading his mind, you place both hands on his chest and pull your head back until there’s an inch of space between your mouths. While your eyes are focused on his pink nose and swollen lips, your mind is focused on what you feel pressing against your thigh. He’s fully erect, his cock straining against the front of his jeans just from kissing you. You could overthink this, let your mind weigh all of the pros and cons of what’s happening right now, and then convince yourself to be responsible and go upstairs to your own room, pretending this never happened. But for some reason, your right hand is already coasting down his chest, over his abs, and sliding between your lower bodies. You find yourself palming the outline of his cock, offering him such a perfect amount of pressure and friction that he can’t help but lean his hips forward and press his cock further into your touch.

“If you don’t stop now…” Bucky rasps, but his eyes flutter closed and he bites down on his lower lip before he’s even finished the sentence, your sensual touch getting the better of him.

“If I don’t stop now?” You encourage him to say what he wants to say, but you can’t fight the teasing smile that’s beginning to play on your lips.

“If you don’t stop now, you won’t be able to return all of those pregnancy tests on your next grocery run.” You laugh lightly as you lean in and press a soft kiss against Bucky’s jawline, continuing to rub his erection through the taut fabric of his jeans. “Are you thinking about fucking me raw, James?” You tease. Bucky groans before opening his eyes and pulling you away from his jaw by your hair. He doesn’t stop you from slowly sliding your hand back and forth along the outline of his cock, but he makes sure you’re looking right in his eyes before he speaks again.

“Right here in this damn parking garage.”

Without a single thought in either of your minds, Bucky lets you push your palms flat against his chest and walk him back until he stumbles onto the seat of his motorcycle. In one swift movement, you slip your hand past the waistband of his jeans and boxers and the warm skin of your hand comes into contact with his hard length, without anything between the two of you. Bucky lets out a heady groan and his hands begin moving all on their own, working to unbutton and unzip his jeans to give your hand as much space as possible. As soon as he has his pants undone, you shift your hand and wrap it firmly around his cock, giving it a slow stroke inside of his boxers. When you near the head of it, a bead of precum drips onto the side of your thumb and you smile to yourself as you spread it back over the smooth tip of his cock. What is it about having a man this way that makes a woman feel so damn powerful? Bucky looks at you with a mix of annoyance and awe at the way you’re working his cock so effortlessly yet turning him into putty in your hands. He’ll let you have your fun for now, and then he’ll show you that he can have the same effect on you.

The moment your eyes lock onto his, he slides his right hand along the side of your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss, the taste of your lips and the feel of your hand stroking back and forth along his hard-on is nearly enough to send him over the edge, and he inhales sharply, tugging his lips away from your own.

“I’m not going to have much use for those pregnancy tests if we keep going like this, am I?” You ask jokingly, as you remove your hand from Bucky’s pants and raise it up to your face. Bucky runs a hand through his hair as he blows out a breath and watches you intently. Your thumb, still a bit shiny and wet from his precum, ventures dangerously close to your mouth. You keep your eyes trained on Bucky’s as you use that same thumb to tug down your bottom lip before sliding it into your mouth and sucking.

“Oh, fuck.” Bucky groans, his rationality fleeing as his own flesh hand delves into his pants and begins mimicking your actions from a moment ago. The way your eyes follow his movements, your pupils blown wide with lust as you watch him touch himself, it’s too damn much for him. He grabs you by the hair once again, in that desperate, needy way that you’re quickly growing to love, and pulls you against his chest, kissing you as fervently as the first time. However, this kiss doesn’t last. He pulls away from you in an instant and suddenly, his hand is on your shoulder, pushing you down to your knees. Before you reach the floor, he uses the toe of his boot to slide his discarded leather jacket across the floor to cushion your knees. So fucking thoughtful.

Bucky stands up with you on your knees in front of him and his bike resting on its kickstand behind him. His eyes never part from your face as he pushes his already undone pants and boxers down his thighs just enough to free his cock from their confines. Your breath hitches in your throat as soon as you lay eyes on it, as soon as you lay eyes on the sheer size of it. Bucky doesn’t make a move to stop you as you reach up with both hands and take hold of his length, using one hand to begin stroking it from the base to the tip while your other hand grips his thigh. Your eyes widen at the way it looks even bigger in your hand, which is a mental image that Bucky will probably be recalling every day for the rest of his life. You’re more than ready to lean in and take him in your mouth, to experience every second of what it’s like to suck him off, but his gentle touch halts your movements. His flesh hand softly cups the side of your face as he lets his thumb caress the skin over your cheekbone.

“You’re so much bigger than he was.” You whisper, your eyes traveling up Bucky’s torso until you’re getting lost in his gaze. It’s true. Your ex was…well below average in this department. But Bucky? God, Bucky is so far above average it’s actually making you wonder if you can even fit half of him in your mouth. Bucky chuckles lowly before tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, and then copying your earlier move. He slips the pad of his thumb between your lips and watches with hooded eyes as you eagerly accept it, sucking on it gently. Fuck. He’s so ruined. Only a moment later, he’s standing there with his head thrown back and a string of curses are falling from his mouth as you bob your head back and forth, letting his cock slide along your tongue and brush against the back of your throat repeatedly. He’s fully lost in the pleasure of your mouth. He’s so lost, in fact, that when you grip his thighs with both hands and lean into him as far as you possibly can, letting your nose brush against his lower stomach and your throat tighten around his shaft as you gag, he lets out a groan that reverberates through the parking garage and sends a fresh wave of heat straight to your core.

“Fuck, do that again.” He rasps, finally looking down at you as you pull your head back until only the tip is resting on your tongue. A smile plays behind your eyes as you dare to look up at him. He can’t help himself. Both of his hands move to run through your hair, encouraging you to do exactly what he just said. You repeat your actions, moving your head forward and taking his entire length in until you gag a second time. But this time, Bucky holds your head still there for two seconds. His eyes squeeze shut as your throat grips his cock tighter and tighter, the sensation bringing him so close to the edge that he abruptly pulls back and leaves only half of his length for you to taste. “Just like that, shit.” Another minute of your mouth doing exactly what Bucky wants and he’s fighting with every cell in his body to delay the inevitable. He wanted to fuck you raw, truly, it was his intention from the moment you admitted you thought about it. But having you like this? Having you on your knees for him, telling him that his dick is bigger than the last piece of shit you were with? God, he’s so close to cumming in your mouth that it almost hurts.

“I’m so fucking close.” He groans the words out as if he’s in pain, as if he’s holding back because he doesn’t want to cum in your mouth. That just won’t do. So, you release him from your mouth with a pop and start working him with your hand as you tilt your chin up to meet his gaze.

“You don’t want to cum in my mouth?” You ask innocently, looking up at him through your lashes. It’s the same way you looked in the bar earlier and he feels his last bit of resolve crumbling. He could easily cum in your mouth, but that’s just not what he needs right now. In that desperate, needy way that you love, Bucky grasps your hair and pulls you to your feet. A whimper leaves your lips as his cock slips out of your hand.

“No.” Bucky says calmly, turning you around and pushing your back forward until your hands land on the seat of his bike. “I’m going to give you a reason to use one of those damn pregnancy tests.”

He’s swift in pulling down your jeans and panties with both hands, and then lining his cock up with your entrance and making you think he’s going to fuck you. But no, Bucky lets the tip of his cock gather the wetness that you’ve been sitting in since you left the bar, and then he begins chasing his release with his own hand. You let out a needy whine, pushing your hips back against him and hoping his cock will just happen to notch inside of you and slide all the way in, but Bucky isn’t going to let it happen until he’s ready.

He has a plan. He’s going to fill you with his cum first, then use his fingers, his tongue, and his cock to fuck it back into you after. The next time your run into your ex, Bucky wants you to be so fucking pregnant that the guy loses his goddamn mind.

There will be no tag list for the smut menu requests.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #mcu #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier

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onceuponastory · 11 months

Text

ghost story - the winter soldier x reader

Plot: As she got older, Y/N stopped believing in ghost stories. That is... until she finds one fast asleep and bleeding out on her grandma’s couch. The Winter Soldier was taught never to leave any witnesses, and he intends to follow his training... until he finds Y/N staring down the barrel of his gun. Pairing: The Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of death, kidnapping, violence, blood, injuries/wounds (nothing too graphic though), pain, nightmares, weapons, and everything Bucky did as the Winter Soldier, and had done to him by HYDRA, specifically how they likely didn’t feed him. Please use your own discretion. As always if I miss any triggers, let me know. Notes: This is sorta my alternate ending/continuation to CA:TWS. I’ve had this fic in my drafts for ages, and I finally finished it. I hope you all love it as much as I do. Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

Turning up the drive, gravel crunching under her tires, Y/N soon spots her grandmother’s house as it looms out of the fog. It’s just as big and creepy as she remembered, especially as the trees turn bare and the nights grow colder and darker. When it’s like this, it looks even more like the stereotypical haunted house that everyone always said it looked like. But now that her grandma’s gone, and the house is all but abandoned, it’s even creepier. Stepping out of her car, the cold autumn air hits her, and does little to stop the fear from spreading throughout her body. Of course, when Y/N was a kid, she spent plenty of time ghost hunting in the house with her grandmother, and getting used to its familiar creaks and groans. But as she grew up, she realised the house was not haunted at all, and the ghost hunting game with her grandmother was just that: a game. Although... its spooky appearance and the endless forest surrounding it do little to help challenge its haunted moniker.

As the chilly wind howls again, sending a shockwave through her entire body, Y/N shivers, pulling her coat and scarf closer around her. And then, she advances up the steps to the front door.

Almost two weeks ago, Y/N's grandmother passed away, and since she’s her only living relative, Y/N has to sort everything out. First, she has to clear out her house. Unlocking the door, Y/N steps inside. Immediately, the air is melancholic. She spent so much of her time in this house that not having her grandmother here to greet her with tea and her fresh baking is strange. Yet, something seems off. As if someone else is here with her, and that she’s not as alone as she thought. Maybe the ghosts are finally coming out to play.

Y/N takes a few steps forward, her footsteps creaking on the floorboards and echoing through the house. As her brows furrow, another chill blows through the house. Her grandmother’s house was draughty, but never this bad. Maybe it’s just the house showing its age. Or at least, that’s what she hopes it is. But as she steps further into the house, something crunches under her feet. Shards of broken glass. Y/N sighs frustratedly. Damn kids probably broke a window.

Still, Y/N registers her heartbeat rising ever so slightly with every step she takes. She just can’t shake the feeling that someone is here, watching her every move. “Ghosts aren’t real. It’s just your imagination. It was always just a game.” She whispers, repeating it like a mantra to calm her down. If only it worked.

Warily, Y/N moves into the living room. Almost immediately, her eyes land on a sleeping form on the couch. Her heart jumps into her throat. Pinching her skin hard, Y/N hopes it’s just a dream, that her mind is playing tricks on her and there isn’t actually a random man asleep on her grandmother’s couch. However, no matter how many times she tries, the man is still there.

And then, she screams, startling the man awake. He jumps up immediately, his blue eyes staring over at her. Within moments, he pulls a gun on her.

“Who are you?” He orders. His voice is deep, and slightly Russian accented. Y/N holds her hands up in surrender, shaking. And this time, it’s not from the cold. She considers making a break for the door, hoping that if she runs fast enough, she’ll be okay. “No. Stay.” The man responds, as if reading her mind. He gestures with his gun, ordering her to come closer, which she does. Warily, she glances down the man’s body, staring at his enormous arms, both muscular and metal. Then, her eyes turn to all the other guns and knives strapped to him. Ones that she definitely doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of.

“Who the fuck is this guy?”

“Answer me.” The man demands.

“I-I’m Y/N. This is my grandma’s house. I’m here to clear it out.” She gasps, hoping it’s enough to save herself. The man furrows his brows, continuing to stare at her. His metal arm whirrs, flexing slightly, which does little to quell Y/N’s alarm. “Please, don’t hurt me. I didn’t do anything or see anything. I promise.” She begs, tears already streaming down her cheeks. Briefly, something shifts in the man’s expression, and his features soften. Almost as if he feels guilty for the fear he’s caused. However, it disappears almost as soon as she notices it.

The Winter Soldier stares at the woman, Y/N, watching as she sobs and begs for her life. She’s terrified of him. Just like everyone else was when they found themselves staring down the barrel of his gun. HYDRA always taught him not to leave any witnesses, because anyone could destroy their mission if they saw something they weren’t supposed to. And the last thing he wants is to find himself on the receiving end of another punishment at the hands of his superiors. The various bruises and injuries he’s accumulated over the years throb under his tactical gear, a harsh physical reminder of all that he’s endured. After all, that’s why he ran away. He’s just so tired. Tired of being their personal punching bag, and of being tortured and punished time and time again, despite how much they all praise him and the work he does for them.

Honestly, he doesn’t know how long he’s been running. He just had to get away from the pain, and from the faces and the screams seeping back into his memories. The memories that are also starting to fill with fresh faces, ones he’s sure he’s never seen before…yet somehow, they looked at him like they knew him.

“Bucky?” A whisper of a voice echoes in his mind, but it’s gone before he can dwell too long on it.

Perhaps, deep down, he thought that if he ran far enough, he’d be able to figure himself out. Or at that he’d at least outrun his demons.

After some time, he found this house. Abandoned and offering some solitude, he saw it as the perfect place to finally get some sleep. That is, however, until the woman’s screams woke him up. And now, here they are. Yet, something about her is different. There’s some kind of familiarity there with her, something he doesn’t know how to explain. What he does know, however, is that despite how much she begs for her freedom, he can’t let her go.

It hurts, but this is how it has to be. This is what he was taught.

Leave no witnesses.

But as the woman’s cries continue, for once, he wants to abandon his training. He doesn't want to kill her. In fact, he almost feels pity for her. Deep down, her cries are shaking him and his morals to their core. “Please, just let me go. I won’t say anything, I promise.” She repeats, her body shaking as tears stream down her cheeks. And then, he comes up with an idea. One to save them both.

“No.” Her face falls. “You stay here. With me.”

“No, I can’t! I have a life, a-and-”

“Stay!” He shouts. The sudden volume makes her jump, and her tears intensify as she sobs even harder, her entire body shrinking away from him. As her cries sink into his every being, another pang of guilt strikes him again. This poor woman has done nothing wrong, and now she’s terrified for her life because of him. He steps forward, reaching out a hand to comfort her. Briefly, after being a mindless killing machine for so long, his humanity returns, and he considers letting her go. For a moment, Bucky Barnes returns.

But then, just before he’s about to offer some reassuring words, HYDRA’s programming kicks in once more like a virus, seeping into his mind. And he becomes the Winter Soldier once more. Who says she’s safe, and that she won’t just turn him into HYDRA at a moment’s notice? And then he’ll be back to being tortured over and over again. Reflexively, his body tenses, and hot pain flashes through him once more. He can’t take that risk. So she has to stay here, with him. That way, they’ll both be safe. This is the only way, the best way that he can ensure his survival without killing her. She’ll learn soon enough. “Just…stay out of my way.” He grunts, storming out of the room and leaving her crying.

Even though her tears still strike guilt into his heart.

From then on, Y/N stays out of the man’s way as much as she can. The last thing she wants is to make the wrong move and end up dead. Thankfully, since her captor seems to stay in just the one room all day every day, she has free rein of the house, and can clear it out just as she wanted. Although, Y/N knows she could be forgiven for being preoccupied with the weapon wielding maniac downstairs.

Yet, she can’t help but feel, in some small way… worried about the man she’s now sharing her life with. He spends all day, every day inside, just staring out of the window. His hand carefully rests on the various weapons strapped to him, almost as if he’s waiting for something or someone to attack. The sounds of her moving throughout the house don’t even phase him anymore. He just…sits there, like a statue. Or a hyper vigilant, intensively trained assassin. Whilst a small part of her appreciates how protective the man seems, his refusal to move or to even eat something strikes her as concerning. Something deeper is going on… something Y/N wants to understand.

However, despite her worry for him, she doesn’t speak to him about it. After all, he is holding her captive. So, she watches from afar, wondering when, if ever, she’ll be able to help him.

Later that night, Y/N falls asleep, calm and off in a dream world. That is, however, until an earth shattering scream sounds from downstairs. Immediately, she springs awake, sprinting downstairs. Judging from the scream, she’s expecting to find bloodshed, and the body of some poor soul who was at the receiving end of the man’s various weapons.

Yet when she makes it downstairs, she finds the complete opposite. Aside from them both, the house is empty. Nevertheless, the screams continue… meaning there’s only one explanation for who they’re coming from. Warily, she steps closer to the sound of the noise. The man is still laid out on her grandma’s couch, but yells out over and over, thrashing around in his sleep. For a moment, Y/N wonders just how much pain and torment he must have experienced for his screams to sound so anguished. “Wait! Calm down! It’s okay!” She calls, getting closer to him. The danger she’s putting herself in, and her previous apprehension doesn’t even cross her mind. All she wants is to see that the man is alright. Once he’s awake, he stares at her, blinking in confusion. “It’s me, Y/N. It’s just me. You’re okay.” She soothes.

“I thought I told you to stay out of my way.” Although, after waking up to HYDRA agents every day for god knows how long, seeing Y/N is a welcome breath of fresh air. Yet, he knows he can’t get too close. It’s too risky.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” The words leave her mouth before even thinking about them. He frowns, almost as if he’s wondering why she cares so much, why she thinks he’s even worth helping. And it breaks Y/N’s heart. Sure, they didn’t get off on the right foot, but he’s clearly hurting, and deep down she hates seeing him so upset. But then his face hardens once more.

“No. Go away.” He repeats, shaking his head. Despite his orders, Y/N stands her ground, refusing to go.

“I don’t want to pry, but… I want you to know I also want to listen, if you want someone to talk to.” She reassures him, taking a seat on the chair opposite the couch. “Your screams, they sounded... awful.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” The man murmurs softly. “After what I did?” Y/N shrugs. Honestly, she’s not even sure if she knows the answer to that herself.

“I just want to help. That’s all. And besides, I was already awake when I heard you screaming.” She lies. Again, he furrows his brow, as if he doesn’t believe her. Yet, he stops telling her to go. The room falls silent, each looking at each other but unsure of what to say next. “Do you need anything? Some food, some water?” Y/N asks, breaking the silence. Another shake of his head.

“I’m not worth this help, Y/N.” Despite how much his self loathing hurts her, she can’t deny how, as she hears her name leaving the man’s lips for the first time, Y/N’s heart beats ever so slightly faster.

“Honestly, it’s okay. When I heard you scream, I got kinda worried about you. It sounded so painful…you really got spooked, didn’t you?” The man looks pained, yet still refuses to meet her gaze, almost as if he’s ashamed of her seeing him in this state. And that thought breaks her heart. He may have scared the shit out of her, but she wants to make sure that he’s alright. Sighing, Y/N moves closer. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. I just want you to know I’m here if you need someone to talk to.”

The Winter Soldier watches Y/N curiously, waiting for the caveat, for the violence that he’s been so used to for so long. Because nobody is ever just nice to him anymore, they only do it just so he can do what they want. Unsurprisingly, HYDRA didn’t care much about his health and wellbeing. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? I was staying for a while anyway, so I brought some stuff with me.” Y/N’s offer makes him even more confused. Even if she does genuinely want to help, why is she doing it now, when he told her to leave him alone? And especially since he’s kidnapped her?

“Why?” Y/N shrugs.

“I don’t know. I just thought that it’s nice to share. And besides, we’re both stuck here, miles from the nearest town. This is all we have.” It’s only then that he realises he doesn’t know when the last time he ate was. Yet although something to eat does sound good, he still doesn’t trust her fully. After all, what if it’s poisoned? What if he wakes up back in HYDRA’s grasp?

“No.” He shakes his head. Deflated slightly, Y/N nods. As he goes to lie down again, he turns his body a different way. Suddenly a sharp, shooting pain strikes his side. Furious expletives and hissing fill the room, and curiously, Y/N peers over. She sees a deep crimson seeping through his tactical vest, and she gasps.

“You’re bleeding. I should call an ambulance.” At the sound of the word ambulance, he gasps.

“No.” He repeats. If he goes to a hospital, then there’s a chance HYDRA could find him and bring him back to the same life he spent so long running from. There’s no way he’ll let that happen.

“I know it’s scary, but it looks painful, and-”

“I said, no! No hospitals.” He clutches madly at his side, wincing and writhing in pain. As Y/N watches him, pity overtakes her fear. This man needs her help.

“Do you want me to look at that, at least? I can try to help stop the blood flow.” She asks, walking towards him. Immediately, he flinches away from her. Every other time he’s been in pain, all he remembers is more pain. He doesn’t heal, he survives. And he’s survived for this long by gritting his teeth and baring his injuries, so he can easily do it again. Even though he’s in so much fucking pain.

“No.” He growls, clutching at his side and hissing. As his face contorts into a grimace, warily, Y/N steps even closer. “What part of no don’t you get?” However, his words don’t stop her. Although this man definitely looks like he could and would murder her, and was obviously very close to doing so… the sound of his pained cries still sting, and she wants to help him.

“It looks bad. I’m not much of a nurse, but it looks like you’re in a lot of pain. And honestly, if we’re going to be stuck here together, I’d rather not have you bleeding out on my grandma’s couch.” She chuckles awkwardly. He peers over at her, his brows furrowed. Yet, Y/N still stares at him, the same soft smile on her face. Why won’t she just leave him to go through this in peace, like he deserves? But then, the pain strikes him again, and he groans, realising he doesn’t have much choice. Maybe this time, he needs to heal. And so, he nods.

First, Y/N takes off every layer of clothing until the wound is visible. As she unbuttons and unbuckles every article of clothing, her fingers gently brushing against his exposed skin, he feels a strange, new feeling inside. He doesn’t understand it, but he does know that he likes it. Y/N's breath hitches in her throat as she stares down at his bare chest. God, this man is attractive. Or at least, his chest is. But then, she notices various other marks and scars on his body, some recent, but most faded. Pity fills her veins once more. Whoever this man is, it looks like he’s been through the wars… and has been for years. “So….” She trails off as she works on his wound, completely unsure what to say to this incredibly attractive man who’s also holding her hostage in her grandma’s house. As she cleans the wound, he hisses, and angry Russian curse words fill the room once more. “Sorry! I’ll try my best to be gentle, but it will probably sting a lot.”

Silence falls as Y/N continues working on the wound. Although the experience is painful, there’s an unfamiliarity to it. And something about that unfamiliarity feels comforting to him. His eyes look over, staring as Y/N wraps a bandage around his side. The moonlight streams through the windows, illuminating her face, and the strange feeling from before returns. Although this time, it makes him feel all warm inside. Maybe this is how it feels to be finally cared for after so many years of pain, nightmares, and torture. To have someone actually give a shit about you. However, before he can think too much about this feeling, Y/N speaks up.

“Can I ask you something? What’s your name? I feel weird that you know mine, and yet, I’m helping you and I don’t even know yours.” His brows furrow. Nobody has ever asked him his name before. And he doesn’t even remember it anymore. As he struggles to remember, Y/N’s face falls. “Does he really not know his name? God, this guy really has been through it.”

“Bucky!” The same whisper echoes in his mind again. Maybe this is it. Maybe his mind is starting to remember.

“I-I think it’s Bucky.” Y/N smiles.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bucky.” Bucky. That does sound right…especially when Y/N says it. As she finishes up, Bucky takes his turn to ask something.

“Why…did you help me? After what I did?” Y/N frowns, shrugging again, as if it’s obvious why she would.

“Well, you were in pain. And besides, you haven’t killed me yet.” She laughs awkwardly. “For some reason, I couldn’t stand seeing you hurt. Do you….” She trails off, and Bucky already knows where this is going. “Do you mind if I ask you what happened?” Memories flash through Bucky’s mind, hazy, choppy memories. Of guns and knives and pain. Oh god, so much pain. Too much pain.

Seeing how worked up he’s getting, Y/N interrupts him by placing a hand on his metal arm, pulling him out of his panic. Reflexively, Bucky flinches, jolting it away. “I spooked you, didn’t I? I’m sorry. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.” She soothes. And for a moment, both Y/N and Bucky realise how much they liked that sensation of being close to one another. “That’s you all done, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll um. You probably want to be alone, so I’ll leave you in peace now.” She murmurs, walking towards the doorway. Bucky feels his stomach rumble, and he sighs. She treated both his wounds, and him with kindness. Maybe he is safe. For now, anyway.

“Wait.” He calls, and Y/N turns around. “Can…I please have some food?” He expects her to say no. After all, HYDRA rarely, if ever, fed him. He doesn’t expect her to either. Especially after how he snapped at her. Yet, Y/N’s face softens once more.

“Of course you can. Do you want a sandwich?” Bucky nods, and she leaves the room. Bucky's face stays imprinted in her mind as she heads towards the kitchen. His eyes were almost pleading when he asked her for food, almost as if he expected her to say no, and that he would understand if she did. The multitude of scars and wounds covering Bucky’s torso enters her mind again. Even though he’s keeping her locked away in her grandma’s house, Y/N still feels bad for him. If someone’s been treating him like that for god knows how long, who’s to say that they haven’t been malnourishing him too? Poor thing. And besides, he hasn’t killed her yet. Maybe he’s not so dangerous.

“Where the hell could he be? He could’ve gone anywhere.” Steve sighs, glancing at the screen. He must’ve looked at the same spot on the map for hours now, just looking for anywhere Bucky could be hiding. That is, if HYDRA didn’t get to him first.

“Steve. Don’t stress yourself out. We’ll find him.” Sam reassures, and Steve sighs.

“I hope you’re right.”

Meanwhile, Y/N and Bucky sit together, eating. Well, one of them is still eating. Bucky wolfed his down almost as soon as he got it, strengthening Y/N’s belief that wherever he was kept, he must not have been fed. She considers asking him about it, but then she remembers where she is, and the circumstances that led to this moment. And besides, that’s a weird thing to ask anyone, let alone the guy who’s essentially keeping you prisoner. So, she keeps quiet.

“Thank you. For the food.” Bucky mumbles, and Y/N looks back up at him. A small smile graces his features, and immediately Y/N smiles back at him, feeling heat building and settling on her cheeks. He has a lovely smile. She was right. He’s kind of cute.

“No problem.” An awkward silence descends on the pair once again. Both look at each other, each wanting to say something, but still unsure of what to say, neither knowing what would be the right thing to say in this circumstance.

And so, they sit together for a while, just sitting in silence. Y/N’s brain feels like it’s going a mile a minute with thoughts of Bucky, and how sorry for him she feels, despite everything that’s happened. In another life, she’d like to get to know him.

Little does she know, however, that Bucky is going through the exact mental turmoil as she is.

After some time, Bucky lays back down on the couch, his breathing stilling. Warily, Y/N tiptoes over to him, peering down. Bucky’s asleep again. When he’s asleep, he looks dead to the world. Clearly, he must really have needed this rest. Yet, she keeps a watchful eye on him, just in case he has another nightmare. Or in case he tries to kill her.

Once she’s sure that Bucky is asleep, Y/N opens Google on her phone. The soft light of her screen illuminates the room, and for a moment she worries the light will wake up Bucky. However, when she glances over, she sees he’s still fast asleep, so she lets out a sigh of relief. Opening the search bar, she types in Bucky’s name. Hopefully, this generates something to help: a post from his family or friends, or even a news article about his disappearance. Someone must be missing him.

Once she hits search, her screen is immediately filled with results. To her surprise, though, the results are nothing like she expected.

Various pictures of Bucky without his tactical gear pop up, including ones of him in an army uniform. An ancient looking uniform, one that looks like it’s from the 1940s. Y/N frowns, even more confused about the sort of person he is. She scrolls down further, looking at the headlines, which confuse her even more.

“Bucky Barnes: The Howling Commando.”

“The Howling Commandos and WWII.”

“Bucky Barnes: The Life and Death of Captain America’s Best Friend.”

One word stands out. Death. Y/N’s eyes widen. The guy who’s sleeping on her grandma’s couch, the one who showed up out of nowhere with a gun, is supposed to be dead. He’s a ghost story. Warily, Y/N looks over at Bucky, watching as his chest slowly rises and falls.

If he’s a ghost story, who’s to say she won’t be the next one? Maybe he will kill her after all.

Suddenly far too scared to go to sleep, Y/N sits in the armchair opposite the couch, scrolling through the articles on her phone and learning everything she can about her new houseguest. He fought in World War Two alongside Steve Rogers, his best friend. Of course, she knows who Steve Rogers is. After all, she’s seen enough pictures and videos of him in his Captain America uniform, wielding the shield and saving the world. It turns out Bucky fought by his side for most of the war. At least, he did until his ‘death’. And now he’s here, sleeping beside her and very much alive. She glances over at him once more, just to make sure she’s safe. Bucky looks so peaceful when he sleeps, his lips slightly parted and his long hair falling in his face. For the first time since she’s met him, Bucky finally looks relaxed. In fact, he doesn’t look dangerous at all. As she watches Bucky, a strange feeling settles in her stomach, and her fear dissipates a little.

If Steve Rogers, Captain America of all people, trusted Bucky to fight alongside him…maybe she’s safe around him after all. And besides, if Steve Rogers can come back from the dead, who’s to say Bucky hasn’t either?

And besides, he’s pretty cute when he sleeps.

Suddenly, Bucky shifts a little in his sleep, and for a moment, Y/N jumps back, expecting him to awaken and notice her staring. To her relief though, Bucky just turns around, his back to her. Smiling softly, Y/N sits back down in the armchair opposite the couch, curling up.

Some time later, she opens her eyes, wincing slightly at the sunlight streaming through the window. Her fingers touch something soft, and she frowns. As she sits up, she realises she must have fallen asleep. And she’s still here, still breathing. Y/N’s fingers continue to brush against something soft, and she realises a blanket is haphazardly draped over her. Bucky sits, watching the world through the windows. Just like he always does. Yet now…it seems different.

“Morning.” he grunts without turning around. And for once, his voice doesn’t scare her. “Sleep okay?”

She almost asks him then, asks if he took care of her in the night. Asks him to confirm if he’s really the kind soul she thinks he is, instead of the monster he thinks he is. The monster she used to think he was. But then she remembers the current situation, and the circumstances that led to them being there. So, she doesn’t ask. Besides, how can she ask something like that after everything they’ve been through? “Yes, thanks. Did you?” She knows it’s a dumb question before she even asks it. Even Bucky seems to think so too, judging by the look he gives her.

“It was okay. Thanks.” He nods.

“I’ll um. I’ll be upstairs if you need me. Figured it would be best if we still stayed out of each other's way. For now anyway.” For a second, when Bucky opens his mouth, Y/N wonders if, or rather hopes that he’ll tell her to stay. That he wants to be around her, to have some human contact.

But he simply nods. “Yes, that’ll be good.” Sighing, Y/N disappears upstairs, hoping Bucky doesn’t notice her disappointment. Yet, she doesn’t notice how Bucky watches as she leaves the room…or how his eyes linger even after she’s gone.

Bucky and Y/N have no idea that miles away, the Avengers still are trying to track Bucky’s location.

Or at least, Steve and Sam are.

“Steve, I’ve got an idea. If he took this route out of the city, he’d have hit some woods and farmland. It’s really remote, you could go for miles and still not see a single farm house. I’m going to send Redwing out, see if there’s any abandoned barns or houses nearby that he could hide in.” Sam explains.

“That sounds good.” Steve nods. Yet, Sam notices how his friend’s smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Hey, we’ll find him, okay?” Steve sighs.

“I hope so.”

A few hours later, Y/N sits in her grandma’s old bedroom, surrounded by various boxes and photo albums. She flips through a few pictures, laughing as she reminisces on the memories inside. The more pictures she looks through, the more emotional she gets. And soon, big tears are streaming down her cheeks once more. She misses her so much. If only her grandma could see her now, and who she’s sharing her house with.

But maybe, if she knew just how much pain Bucky’s gone through, and how kind he’s been treating her recently… maybe she’d like Bucky. Or at least, understand him a little.

“Are you alright?” Bucky’s voice startles her. He peers into the room, concern filling his features as he realises she’s crying. “I um. I thought I heard you crying, so I wanted to check on you.” Quickly, Y/N wipes at her eyes. Strangely, despite how much she sobbed in front of Bucky when they first met, now she’s embarrassed by him seeing her crying. Although, she still notices the way something flutters deep down inside when she realises Bucky abandoned his post, the only thing he’s done all day and every day, to come check up on her. For once, she’s more important to him than his mission.

“Yeah. Sorry, I was just sorting some of my grandma’s things. Didn’t realise it would make me so emotional.” She laughs awkwardly, wiping at her eyes. Nervously, Bucky comes closer, too scared to hurt her again. But he’s already seen her crying once, and felt powerless to help. Now, he wants to help. She’s been so kind to him, especially when he didn’t deserve it, and he would like to repay that kindness any way he can.

“May I sit?” Y/N nods, and he does so. He peers over her shoulder, looking at the photographs clutched in her hand. “Is this her? Your grandma?” The tone of his question makes her laugh a little. But it’s not a mocking laugh, not in the slightest. Bucky sounds like a curious child, excited to learn about the world around him.

“Yup. And that’s my mom. She died when I was young, so my grandma took me in for most of my life. We had a lot of fun together. Especially in this house.” Y/N smiles fondly.

“She’s beautiful.” Bucky glances over at Y/N, smiling softly. “I can see the resemblance.” Y/N feels herself smiling at his words, and heat settles on her cheeks once more. Despite everything that’s happened, being called beautiful by Bucky feels nice.

“Thanks.” Y/N giggles, sniffling.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky sighs, and she frowns. “For everything. For scaring you, a-and for keeping you here. It’s just.” He takes a moment to breathe, as if bracing himself for his next words. Bracing himself to tell her the truth. “I don’t remember a lot about my life, but I do know I was being held by HYDRA. People who weren’t very good to me.” Y/N’s mind goes back to the wound on his side, how eager he was to be fed… and his horrible, anguished screams. Now it all makes sense. Y/N’s face softens, and she leans in closer, listening attentively. “I don’t want to go into too much detail about it, but they messed me up a lot. And now, I know they wiped my memories too. I at least know my name now, and bits about my past come in here and there, but that’s about it.”

“Bucky…I’m so sorry.” Y/N gasps. Now his childlike wonder makes sense. She can’t even imagine how that feels, to know nothing about who you are or where you come from. To be a nobody. Her memory goes back to the night before, when she stayed up into the wee hours of the morning, googling Bucky and his past. Her stomach twinges. Bucky doesn’t even know that most of his life story is out there online, free for anyone to read… whilst he doesn’t remember any of it. She can’t not tell him the truth. To her surprise, though, Bucky chuckles and shakes his head.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s me who should be sorry for keeping you here. It’s just whenever I tried to escape, they’d bring me back and torture me even more. So when I finally did leave, I was terrified that you’d try to bring me back, or if you went outside and someone saw you, they’d find me.” He scoots even closer, the edge of his fingers brushing lightly against hers. As their skin connects, Y/N feels a small spark and registers her breath hitching in her throat. Even this, something so small as this tiny skin to skin contact feels so intimate. So different. It’s like there’s a meaning behind it now, something more than just an accidental touch. And it registers something within Y/N, a feeling deep within her gut.

She never noticed how blue his eyes look, and how much they sparkle in the light. When she’s up this close to Bucky, she can see that he has freckles too, ones previously hidden under his bruises and scars. They seem to be healing nicely. He looks healthier too, calmer at least. Obviously, the food she gave him did the world of good.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?” He whispers, so quiet she wouldn’t have heard him had he been sitting next to her. Despite everything that he’s been through, and the way he used to scream and shout at her, his voice is so soft. So… human. Rather than the monster she thought he was. But now she knows the truth: he’s a victim. And he deserves the truth. She owes him that.

“I have to tell you something. About your past.”

He takes it well. Or at least, better than she expected someone to do when you tell them that most of their life, one that was so cruelly ripped away from them, can be summed up via a Wikipedia article. When she mentions Steve and the other Howling Commandos, there’s a flicker or recognition there, which makes her smile. It’s small, but at least a start.

“Thank you for telling me.” He murmurs, and she nods. Yet, neither of them know just how much is missing from that page. Happy memories spent with family or friends, the little things Bucky enjoyed - his favourite song, the food he loved - all gone, with no way of knowing if they’ll ever come back. Without even thinking, she scoots closer to him once more, wordlessly telling him she’s there for him. And little does she know, but Bucky appreciates her presence more than he could ever say.

“Steve.” Sam begins, causing the blonde to look up. “There’s an old house near where Bucky could’ve went, and it seems occupied. We could go in and ask if they’ve seen anything.”

“Worth a try.” Steve nods. Again, Sam can tell how unsure Steve feels about this, given how many leads they tried to chase that suddenly turned cold. And Sam also knows how worried Steve is about finding Bucky, no matter the cost. But before he can say anything, Steve stands up, straightening his jacket. “Come on then. Let’s go.”

Later that night, Y/N passes over another steaming hot plate of food, which Bucky quickly devours. Despite the food spraying everywhere, Y/N is glad to see him eating so much. Especially since she’s noticed how Bucky isn’t pausing before beginning to eat as much as he used to. It seemed as if he was waiting to see if he was going to be fed, rather than a cruel prank by his captors. To her, it signifies his recovery, that despite how much they tried to take it away from him, Bucky Barnes is coming back.

And then, there’s a knock at the door.

Immediately, the two are on edge. Especially Bucky. Y/N notices his metal arm tensing, and she stands up quickly.

“I’ll get it. It’s okay.” she insists, trying to calm Bucky’s nerves whilst also trying to ignore how fast her own heart is beating. As she braces herself to open the door, Y/N wonders just how much her life will change once it does. Obviously, the people who tortured Bucky and wiped his mind probably won’t be as courteous enough to knock on the door, but it’s still the major fear coursing through her by now.

Reaching for the door handle, Y/N takes a breath… and opens the door.

Two men stand on the porch. For a moment, she registers a look of disappointment on one of the men’s faces. Almost as if he was expecting someone else. But he soon smiles, clearing his throat. “Good evening ma’am.” He speaks. Y/N recognises them both almost immediately.

Captain America and the Falcon are standing right in front of her. Right away, her fear dissipates, replaced by hope. Bucky finally gets to go home with his friends. With people who love him.

“You’re Cap, and you’re the Falcon.” She gasps. Steve chuckles, but before he can say another word, Y/N continues. “You’re here for Bucky, aren’t you?” Their faces change immediately. A mix of shock, wonder, and excitement. She stands inside, letting both men in.

As soon as they step into the house, Bucky charges out in front of them, his presence immediately threatening.

“What do you want?!” He demands. “I’m not going back there!”

“No! Bucky no! These are your friends. Sam and Steve! Remember?” Making eye contact with Steve, Bucky lowers his hands. In an instant, he’s back to the calmer, quieter person he was before.

“Steve.” He murmurs as the memories soon start to come back.

“Hey Buck. You remember Sam, right? And what happened? We’ve come to take you back. We’ll keep you safe.” Bucky still looks confused. He doesn’t know if he can trust him. She can see it in his eyes. And it breaks her heart.

“He’s right. Remember what I told you? About your past?” Y/N whispers, gently prompting Bucky. “That’s them. Once again, Bucky’s brow furrows… yet after a moment, he nods.

“Steve.” He whispers, smiling. And Steve smiles back. But then it’s as if he remembers that Y/N’s still there.

“So, who are you if you don’t mind me asking?” Steve asks, and Sam sighs.

“Steve.” Sam hisses.

“This is my grandmother’s house. I came here to clear it out after she died, and I found Bucky here.”

“Well, hopefully he wasn’t too much trouble for you.” Sam chuckles. She glances over at Bucky, still watching over her protectively despite being reunited with his best friend. And a small smile crosses Y/N’s lips.

“No. Not at all.”

“Well.” Steve clears his throat, standing up straighter, looking exactly like the Captain he is. “I’m glad to hear you helped him, ma’am.”

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“Her name is Y/N.” Bucky speaks up. “And she’s treated me with nothing but kindness since she found me here. Thank you.” Y/N’s smile grows even wider, and Bucky smiles too. A big, warm grin that overtakes his entire face. And something in Y/N’s stomach flutters. Despite the tumultuous start to their relationship, she’s really enjoyed her time with Bucky, and getting to know the real him.

But then, Steve’s next words bring her crashing back down to earth.

“Come on then, Buck. We better go. Thank you for your help, Miss, but we can take it from here.” And there it is. Honestly, a part of Y/N was expecting to be invited along with them. To spend more time with the soldier who captivated her from the beginning. Maybe they’d even get closer. But she can’t. Because despite how much time they spent together, growing more and more comfortable with each other until their lives practically intertwined, she doesn’t fit into his life. His real life. His life where he’s best friends with two Avengers, and a WWII hero. Maybe she never fit into his life. Disappointment twinges deep in her gut. She won’t see Bucky again after this, won’t be able to see how far his recovery goes, and what he remembers.

“So…that’s it then, huh?” She sighs, not even bothering to hide her disappointment. “Well Bucky, it’s been great to meet you, despite everything.” She chuckles. And Bucky realises that he doesn’t want to let her go either. He can’t. And so, he speaks.

“Don’t you think Y/N should come too?” His words stop the rest of the group in their tracks. Steve and Sam both raise a brow, whilst Y/N just looks surprised.

“What?” she gasps.

“Well, HYDRA are probably still going to come looking for me, and what are they going to do when they find Y/N here alone?” Y/N registers her blood chilling. Honestly, she hadn’t even considered that. She’s been so used to having Bucky here, protecting her, (albeit in his own way) that she never even considered what happens on the other side, with her safety system gone. Yet, Bucky’s protectiveness over her makes her heart beat just that little faster, and she registers the heat settling in her cheeks.

“Bucky, we stopped HYDRA. They’ve fallen, they won’t-”

“We can’t take that risk. I was there for years, and I know how they operate. I’m not leaving her here to be hurt, or worse, especially after how kind she’s been to me.” She’s never seen Bucky be so determined, so forceful…especially not about her. After Bucky’s impassioned speech, Steve and Sam start whispering to each other, and Bucky comes back to stand beside her. “It’ll be okay.” He whispers. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

“Thank you.” She smiles. Once more, Bucky’s hand softly brushes against hers. The same spark from before returns, this time so strong that it consumes her every being. And again, Y/N starts seeing Bucky in a new light.

“No. You’re right, Buck.” Steve nods. “We should go, now.” With a determined nod, Bucky looks over at her. And still, he smiles.

“Ready?”

Part two, anyone? 👀

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes x female reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier fanfiction #the winter soldier fic #bucky x Female Reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #marvel oneshot #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

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downbadf0rficppl · 3 months

Text

pink in the night

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Some interesting rumours have been circling around about Bucky. Little do you know, it's kinda your fault.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: Porn with a bit of plot, SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, soft Buck, SMUT!!!!

AN: Sorry y'all! It's kinda a bit shit but listen, it's self-indulgent so idc :) This is kinda inspired by 'Pink in the Night' by Mitski which I was listening to while writing this. Have a good rest of the week, y'all <3

Repost

Bucky had a love-hate relationship with being your neighbour. On the one hand, he loved seeing your face as you left your room every morning, hair not yet slicked to perfection, and sleep still evident on your face. You seemed a lot more innocent in the morning - conversations more idle.

On the other hand - and perhaps as a downside to his more sensitive hearing - you drove him crazy with the knowledge of things that perhaps he wasn't supposed to know.

This night was no different. You had headed off to bed after a long day, bidding everyone in the kitchen a good night. You grabbed a water bottle before slipping into the elevator, Bucky not far behind. You stepped out of the elevator together and you wished him sweet dreams before slipping into your room. Oh, his dreams were going to be far from sweet.

You see, your beds were pushed up to opposite sides of the same wall, so he could hear you relax on your bed. He could hear you shuffle to strip into just your underwear, and how your hand slipped into your panties. He could hear how your breath hitched as you circled your clit, and your soft moans as you plunged your fingers into your cunt or as your vibrator dipped in between your folds.

He could almost envisage you doing it - a forbidden porno that took root in his mind every night that he heard you finger yourself to completion. The rosy pink flush that you would glow as you came all over your hand. Your heavy rise and fall of your chest as you came down from your high. The small smile that would adorn your face as rolled over to fall asleep - the oxytocin released coursing through your veins.

He felt disgusting as he did - one of those creeps that he intended to protect you from for the rest of his life. But after you'd fallen asleep, he'd hop into the shower to cool his body and his mind - to throw the detestable thoughts of you to the far corners of his mind. But as he fell asleep, you'd re-enter his mind in a different way. A more safe-for-work way. You'd be in his arms, cuddling him and whispering sweet words of encouragement. You'd be cooking him dinner while he told you funny stories about his life with scrawny Steve in the 40s; he'd be washing the dishes while you sat on the counter tell him about your day. He'd worry for your well-being - not as an overbearing coworker but as a loving, doting boyfriend. Maybe husband.

Bucky was getting ahead of himself - he'd have to work up the courage to have more than a few-word conversation with you. But for now, wishing he could hold your hand would have to suffice.

Being Bucky's neighbour was not much easier. Especially when he was completely oblivious to your plight. Even the slight brush of a hand made your heart flutter.

You loved seeing him early in the morning - he always seemed less reserved when he was fresh from a good night's rest. He was faster to smile, faster to laugh. It was nice. You woke up at an ungodly hour to see him just before he headed on his morning run. You couldn't deny that the morning light did wonders for him - you were always left wanting more when he dipped into the elevator.

Oh, and the sounds. Your hearing was not quite as superior as Bucky's, but you definitely heard things that left you clenching around thin air.

You knew Bucky wasn't one to self-complete often - in fact, it was rare that you ever caught on to the act. But you had caught the odd broken moan coming from his room. You turned into molten mush, the weight of your arousal buckling your knees. If there was any sound that could turn you to putty, it was that.

You didn't how many times the idea of Bucky fucking you had played through your mind, but each night a different variation brought you the same ending - your fingers deep in your cunt, coaxing you to a climax.

Every night, you wished his cock, tongue, fingers were filling you up instead of yours, leaving you aching and wishing for more. You wanted to run your nails down his back - leaving permanent reminders of your love for him - while he nipped at your neck - leaving marks claiming you as his.

Sometimes, your brain caught up to your thoughts, reprimanding you for your possessiveness. He wasn't yours, you had to remind yourself, even if you wished he was. For that, you'd have to actually have to have more than a few-word conversation with him - which to be honest, seemed impossible. So you stuck to your nightly wishful dreaming, hoping one day he'd be yours. Only yours.

Summer was the worst for Bucky. You were the type to spend hours upon hours out in the sun, coming back with a budding tan and rosy complexion - it did nothing to quell the budding images flashing in the back of his mind. You. Under him. Panting. Moaning his name as he brought you to the edge. Over and over again. Face glowing pink as you gaze up into his eyes, drunk on love and his cock. Bucky had to excuse himself to splash cold water on his face.

It didn't help that the clothing you wore did nothing to help his imagination. The semi-sheer tops, the shorts, the swimsuit and bikinis. Every time he saw you, he immediately had to duck back inside to deal with 'a little problem'. More like a very large, very hard, and very obvious problem.

Still, he enjoyed your company more than he had for the better part of his time living in the compound. He listened to your stories, your jokes, helped solve your issues. He felt that - even if you weren't quite what he wanted you to be - your relationship was blossoming into something quite beautiful. And that made him feel a lot braver - he introduced a little comment here and there, a hand always on your waist or the small of your back. He flirted with you from time to time: just to gauge a meter on your reactions, he'd tell himself, as if this was an experiment to crack a hypothesis that had been perplexing scientists for years.

The sun was peaking over the top of the trees surrounding the compound when you woke up. That was a rarity in summer, given that the sun rose at nearly 5am. Still, you didn't miss out on the opportunity to watch the sunrise, curling up on your windowsill with your blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

You heard Bucky opening his door, and you ran towards yours, grabbing your phone and slippers on your way. You opened your door just as he closed his. He was dressed in gym wear - as always - since he was going on his morning run around the compound track. It was a nice track - one that you rarely frequented - going in and out of the forest behind the compound, totalling about 4.5 miles in distance.

He took you in, eyes bulging as they raked over you. You looked down, following his gaze. Shit. In your rush to see Bucky, you'd forgotten that your nightwear had consisted of some flimsy shorts and your bra - that you had thrown on after waking up to save a modicum of dignity, should someone burst into your room. It was too hot for anything else. You crossed your arms over your chest, which indefinitely made the issue worse as Bucky's eyes lifted way over your head.

"Looking good, babe!" Nat yells, walking across the landing toward you both. Clearly, Bucky had been intending to go on a run with her, maybe fit in a quick sparring session. You sent them on their way, with a 'have fun' and 'don't have too much fun.'

As soon as you were back in the comfort of your room, Nat elbowed Bucky hard.

"Oww! What the fuck was that for?" Rubbing his metal arm, for the convincing act.

"Oh please, you big baby. You have a fucking metal arm, get over yourself." She looked down, "You have a bit of a situation going on down there."

He looks down, embarrassment flushing his cheeks bright red, and subtly tucked his hard dick into his waistband.

"You wanna go sort that out? I won't hold it against you," Nat said, hitting the button to call the lift, "I promise not to tell Stark. Scout's honour." She jokingly holds up 3 fingers. Bucky swats her arm gently.

"No point."

Nat gasps, "No way. Don't tell me Mr. Winter Soldier can't have sex."

"Not sex," Bucky mumbles, "Just jerking off. Can't seem to - you know - finish."

Bucky had a history with Nat. They'd known each other for years. That kind of history made this kind of conversation somewhat less uncomfortable.

Nat burst into laughter. So much for not being uncomfortable.

The lift stopped on Sam's floor. He stepped in, gazing warily at the scene in front of him: the Black Widow doubled over in laughter, and the Winter Soldier embarrassed and uncomfortable in the corner.

He begged to be let in on the joke. Nat wheezed between laughs, "He - can't - fucking - cum!" Bursting into another bout of laughter, with Sam close behind, Bucky jumps out on the next floor, heading to the roof for some fresh air. He catches you up there, trying out some morning yoga. He sneaks up behind you as your stand up, grabbing your waist. You shriek, hitting him hard in the chest, before melting into his embrace once your brain caught up to the situation.

"Not fair!" You pouted, pausing your peaceful music, "Yoga's supposed to be peaceful!"

Bucky chuckles, pulling you into another hug, feeling you wrap your arms around his neck.

"I thought you were going on a run with Nat?" You whispered into his ear, your cheek resting on his clavicle.

"She ditched me for Sam." Bucky opted to leave out the real reason why he had left Nat and Sam in pieces in the elevator.

"Sucks to be you, Barnes!" You laugh pulling away and stepping back onto your mat. "Now leave me alone - just 'cause your friends abandoned you, doesn't mean you can bother me."

Bucky pouted, causing you to laugh before you turned back to your Yoga. He stood there and watched you for a minute, before heading back down to the gym. He strung up a punching bag, before wrapping his flesh wrist. Bucky took all his pent-up aggression and frustration out on the punching bag, allowing no respite between each jab, cross, and hook.

He stayed in the gym for over 3 hours, working every bit of stress out of his body. By the time he left the gym, the sun was high in the sky and a long day of paperwork and training awaited. Bucky headed up to his room for a quick shower - washing all the sweat off his body.

He felt lighter heading downstairs for breakfast - the weight of his arousal pushed far back in his mind. There was nothing he could do about it anyway.

Since deciding he would pursue you honestly, he couldn't seem to finish, no matter how hard he tried. You had been the only thing to push him over the edge - it seemed his body couldn't do it without you. It was frustrating beyond belief. He'd tried other things, porn, erotica, even thinking back to good times before the war. Nothing helped. It was as if his body was finetuned to you - only you knew the magic password to release him. Figuratively and literally.

When he reached the kitchen, he was privy to a welcome sight. You, in your combat gear, grabbing some granola bars before you jumped on the quinjet. You and Stark were heading on a surveillance mission in Guatemala for the week. You were reaching up to the top shelf, stretching on your tiptoes for the expensive granolas that had been kept on the top shelf. Bucky's granola bars that he had put there to stop anyone else from stealing them.

He reached up from behind you and grabbed the box, placing it in your hands. You looked guilty. You'd been caught red-handed.

"It's fine, doll. Take as many as you want." He said, leaning back against the counter, resting on his forearms. Your face flushed red as you grabbed 2 or 3, shoving them into your bag and turning around to fill up your water bottle.

You shivered when his hot breath fanned across your exposed neck, "Just remember that you owe me."

He was gone by the time you turned around.

The rumour had spread like wildfire while you were away.

"Did you hear that Bucky can't have sex?"

"I heard that Bucky can't - you know - cum?"

"Apparently, his time at Hydra fucked him up worse than he realised."

"He can't even masturbate you know?"

The rumours were getting out of hand, but he let them swirl. There was an ounce of truth to them, even if Hydra had nothing to do with his current predicament.

No, that blame could only lie with you.

When you got back, Bucky had just left on a 4-day-long mission with Sam - which meant you heard all the rumours and Bucky wasn't there to defend himself.

You heard it first when you dropped your suit off for dry-cleaning. One of the tech guys was whispering to Marta, the woman who looked after the dry cleaning of suits, about Bucky's apparent inability to ejaculate. You were shocked. Where the hell did they even get that information? You dropped off your suit and headed back up to your room to shower.

You then heard another mention of it when you went to drop off your reports. Two of the agents that were being reassigned to Steve's team - that were currently on a month-long mission in Chad - were gossiping outside Tony's office.

" - and apparently she ran out crying. Thought she wasn't good enough for him or something along those lines. I don't know."

"Yeah, apparently the breakup was grizzly."

"I feel bad for him you know, all of the shit he went through with Hydra, and now this?"

"Yeah, man, really sucks."

Your face blushed a bright red. What the fuck? Where did this rumour even come from? You knew for a fact that Bucky hadn't had a girlfriend since living in the compound so wherever that part of the rumour came from was completely untrue.

You had to get to the bottom of this.

You spent the better part of the next 2 days collecting bits of information from conversations between people around the compound. You found out that the rumour had originated from a conversation between Nat and Sam, which an agent had overheard while they were on their run. It had been twisted as most oral stories were leading to this big misleading idea that Bucky was unable to even get it up and that he was unable to please a woman. You were sure the latter part was untrue. You'd heard the way he moaned alone in his room - you were sure that you could cum just from his moans alone. He wouldn't even need to touch you.

You didn't think the rumour would affect you when Bucky got back. After all, you knew at least some of it to be false. But when he got back, his beard grown out a little because he couldn't shave it while he was away, you felt embarrassed. Not because of his supposed 'predicament' but because you felt as if you had found out something that you maybe weren't supposed to know.

Bucky caught on quicker than you would have liked. The night after he got back, Tony had thrown a little get-together to 'celebrate midsummer'. Realistically, Tony just wanted a reason to go out and drink with his friends. You had avoided Bucky most of the night - not necessarily intentionally, but Bucky still felt slightly hurt and more than a little confused.

He caught you alone on the balcony, looking out at the stars.

"Did I do something?" He said, sneaking up behind you and making you jump. Nervousness and insecurity laced his every move, worried that he had hurt you in some way that he couldn't possibly imagine.

You shook your head violently, scared to make eye contact with him. He lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his.

"What's wrong?" You turned back to face the sky, embarrassment filling your chest. He laced his metal fingers into yours, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"It's stupid."

"No, it's not. Nothing's stupid, not if it's you." Your heart fluttered at his words.

Your eyes met his steady gaze, "It's really stupid." His eyes begged you to go on, "It's just that - um - when I got back I - um - heardthisreallystupidrumourandIshouldn'thaveletitgettomebutbasically -"

Bucky placed a hand on your waist, drawing small circles, "Breathe."

"Someone said you had trouble pleasing women." You let out quietly. If it hadn't been for his enhanced hearing, he probably would have missed you. His grip on your waist tightened, "Bucky?"

"Trouble pleasing women? That's a new one." His deep voice cut you to your core. You let out a small whimper as the arousal pooled in your panties.

Bucky didn't miss that either.

He grabbed your arm and led you through the party. No one gave you a double look as he lead you into the vacant elevator, slamming your floor number and pushing you up against the wall.

"Think I can't please a woman, huh? Think again. Don't think I don't know what you think about when you cum all over your hand, whining my name under your breath." You whined lowly at his words, feeling how he pushed his hard dick perfectly in line with your throbbing pussy, "Isn't that right, slut? That's what you are, aren't you? My perfect little slut?" You moan at his degrading statement, pushing your pussy further onto his cock trying to find some friction.

"So needy," He tutted, his condescending tone only heightening your arousal. The elevator door pinged and Bucky picked you up bridal-style, kicking the door to your room open. You regularly forgot to lock it while heading down to dinner - for once, both you and Bucky were glad.

He dropped you on your bed, unceremoniously, eyes raking over you ravenously. The heat rose up your face, as you shifted under his unrelenting gaze.

"Oh baby, you don't how long I've been waiting for this." He leaned down locking your lips in a passionate kiss. His palm landed just above your knee, caressing up your leg towards your upper thigh. His hand slid under your dress, cupping your ass. He left a light squeeze, making you gasp into the kiss.

He leaned down, grabbing you with ease, flipping you both so you were straddling his waist. He tangled his flesh hand in your hair, the metal one possessively gripping your hip. He brought you down to his lips for another kiss - even when you were on top, he made sure you knew that he was in charge.

He toyed with the hem of your dress, eyes raking over you once again.

"Off."

You pulled the dress over your head, leaving you in your bra and panties. You felt seriously underdressed, especially considering Bucky was still in his jacket. He reaches up, joining your lips in another kiss, and reaching around to remove your bra. He tosses it to the side, running his knuckles over your pebbled nipples. You moan loudly, panties soaked. He takes his time pinching and squeezing your nipples, licking and biting as he went. The alternate sensations of one warm hand and one ice-cold heighten your arousal ten-fold. You buck your hips over his jeans, the sensation of his fly between your sensitive folds throwing you into overdrive.

His grip on your waist tightened once again. "I can feel your cunt throbbing, honey." You whimpered pathetically. "Go ahead, use me to get off. I know you want to."

Your hips started bucking off their own accord, clothed pussy running over the fly of his jeans. They started slow, getting a feel for what exactly you were doing. Bucky's hands started pushing you faster, setting a faster groove. The coil in your stomach began to tighten as your bucking became more erratic. You teetered on the edge of an orgasm when Bucky stopped you.

"Beg." He restarted your pace, faster and more erratic than before.

"Please, please, please, please, Bucky, please let me cum, please..-" You babbled, tripping and stumbling through your pleas. With a searing kiss, he gives you permission.

"I love you, I love you, I love, OH-" You fall off the edge of one of the hardest orgasms you've ever had, head empty with only one thing on your mind. Bucky.

You feel Bucky manhandle your body so your back is lying on the bed and he is towering over you. He asks you if you want to go on and all you can do is nod your head vigorously.

He chuckles, "I like your enthusiasm baby, but I need words. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, YES!" You shout, breathlessly, already needing more.

He's fully naked and it's all you can do to not stare. He's definitely a well-endowed man, and he definitely has no problem getting it up.

"Like what you see?" He smirks, and you slap his thigh playfully. He pulls you further toward the edge of the bed and lines his dick up with your slick folds. He slides in slowly, holding your chin up so you keep eye contact with him. He watches as your eyes roll to the back of your head in satisfaction. You've never felt so full in your life. He presses into you slowly, feeling the way your tightness engulfs him, allowing your body to adjust to his size. You whimper softly as he pushes in - you never realised just how desperate you were for him.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He chuckles, watching as tears leak out of your eyes. His condescending tone was back, and all it did was make you hornier. You babbled incoherently, "Gone dumb already? What a cock-drunk little slut you are."

He trails a metal finger up the side of your torso, watching the goosebumps left in its wake. You whimper again.

"Such a needy little baby. Only I can take care of you like this, right? Only me."

"Only you." You affirmed, pressing a kiss to the arm near your head.

He pulled out almost entirely, before slamming all the way back in. You screamed in pleasure, and Bucky set a brutal pace. He pinned your arms above your head with his right hand, and his left hand came to wrap around your throat. The significance of that was not lost on you. He loved you enough to not hurt you, even with his metal arm.

"I love you, baby. You know that right?" Bucky looked you deep in the eyes, "You know I love you right?"

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you," You babble back, lost in the throes of passion.

Bucky found your clit with his metal hand, pressing and flicking gently. You felt your muscles tighten for a second time, and you grabbed the sheets throwing your head back as you came harder than the first time.

Bucky came moments later, deep inside you with a loud moan. He pulled out slowly, collapsing next to you. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling yourself into his neck.

He chuckled at that, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a bear hug. You stayed like that for a minute before he untangled himself from you and carried you to the bathroom.

He turned on the shower and you both stepped under it, cleaning the sweat and cum off your bodies. Your legs felt like jelly, so you leaned heavily into Bucky as he washed you off.

"Stay awake, doll, just for a second," He said, shaking you awake each time you dozed off in the shower.

Bucky pulled some of your clothes onto your body, before setting you down on the bed. He gave you a quick kiss to the forehead before promising to be back soon.

He snuck into his room wrapped in a towel, before throwing on the first pair of sweats he could find and dashing to the kitchen for a cup of water.

He snuck back into your room, to see you already dead asleep on the bed. He slipped under the covers, tugging you closer to his chest, and smiled.

Through your grogginess, you nuzzled into his chest. "I love you." You whispered, your lips resting against his heart.

You woke up to the sound of soft snoring in your ear and sunlight streaming through the window. You smiled. You untangled yourself from Bucky's arms, disappearing into your bathroom to pee. You wash your face and brush your teeth before diving back into Bucky's arms.

Your legs were still sore from last night, but you didn't care. You were Bucky's and Bucky was yours. The very thought put a massive smile on your face.

"What's tickled your feather this morning?" Goddamn, his morning voice was sexy. You smiled and pressed a hard kiss to his lips.

Bucky smiled through the kiss. He picked you up by the thighs, carrying you while he brushed his teeth and splashed his face.

The compound was pretty silent, barely anyone was awake after drinking the night away. So, while Bucky made you pancakes for breakfast, you asked him the question, "Hey, Buck, where did the rumour come from?"

He looked at you, vaguely embarrassed, "You know that day, when me and Nat were gonna go down to train?"

You face flushed red, "When I walked out in my underwear?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, "I got a hard-on, like a teenage boy."

You stifled a laugh.

"So, Nat said, do I wanna go deal with it? And I told her I couldn't."

You looked at him confused, "Why not?"

"Cause of you," he said simply. You looked at him even more confused, "You were the only thing I got get off to. I tried everything else. Porn, erotica, even thinking about old sex. Nothing worked."

You flushed red again. "Oh god, I've weirded you out, haven't I?" You broke off his impending spiral with a kiss.

"I love you." You said, placing a kiss on his bare chest.

He looked at you with such love and reverence that you felt like you might combust under his gaze.

He kissed you again and all you could think was, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

I love you, I love you, I love you.

I love you I love you I love you.

fin.

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