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blackcatner00 · 5 days ago

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Toy Soldier (part 1)

Bit by bit, torn apart. We never win, but the battle wages on.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Smut. Dark content: Sexual Assault Wounds(Bucky) tried to make it as vague as possible but, there are mentioned. Depictions of Physical Wounds. Psychological Trauma. Canon-Typical Violence.

Summary: She had been the tool Hydra used to keep him operational; he, the weapon manipulated by their tendrils to execute their ambitions. Years after breaking free, fate Sam Wilson brings them together once more. Now, they must navigate the challenges of forging a connection beyond the twisted dynamic that once bound them in the past.

Word Count: 5.6.k.

notes: Even though this fic includes fluff, smut, and the tone I usually maintain in my stories, there will be flashbacks to unpleasant events that might be triggering. Please read the warnings carefully, and if I’ve missed any, feel free to let me know. More tags will be added in the future.

The cell reeked of bleach and iron, a suffocating blend of sterility and blood. She sat huddled in a corner with her knees drawn to her chest, shaking from the lingering aftershocks of what they had made her do mere hours ago. A steel table in the center of the room bore the evidence: blood-soaked rags, reinforced restraints, and instruments that glinted menacingly under the harsh light.

The door creaked open, and she flinched instinctively. Her pulse quickened as they rolled him in on a gurney, his body was impossibly broken again, but somehow, still alive. The Winter Soldier. His mask was cracked, exposing a bruised cheekbone, his metallic arm hung at an unnatural angle, wires sparking like dying fireflies. His tactic suit was shredded, revealing deep gashes that glistened with dark blood.

"Fix him," the handler barked, void of empathy. He tossed a clipboard onto the table, detailing every injury, every broken bone, every expectation to her work. "We need him ready by morning."

She didn’t move at first. She never did. But the familiar press of a gun muzzle against her temple jolted her into action. They didn’t tolerate hesitation.

Her bare feet slapped against the cold tiles as she approached the table. Soldat’s chest rose and fell unevenly, his blue eyes were half-lidded and glassy, staring past her into the abyss. She wondered, briefly, if he even felt the pain anymore, or if the agony had simply become a part of him, stitched into his body like the scars of the wounds she was forced to erase.

She laid her trembling hands over his chest, cutting the remnants of the suit and rushing her power forward like a tide, knitting sinew, mending fractures, restoring what should have been allowed to rest. His body convulsed as the healing process awakened raw nerve endings. He groaned low in his throat, a sound of both relief and torment and her eyes burned with unshed tears.

"Good pet," the handler sneered, patting her head, "Keep going."

As the minutes dragged into hours, her hands moved mechanically, weaving muscle and bone back into place. Every touch drew more from her, siphoning her strength to pour life into a body that shouldn’t be able to withstand such brutality. The process left her light-headed, and her vision started blurring at the edges, but she didn’t dare falter. They would notice. They always noticed.

As her hands pressed over a jagged wound on his side, a faint tremor ran through his body. His breath hitched, shallow and uneven, and his eyes fluttered open. Glassy and unfocused at first, they slowly, impossibly, found her. A vacant gaze, yet somehow piercing, locked onto her face as if trying to understand who she was and what she was doing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words spilling out before she could stop them. She kept her voice low, trembling, her fingers brushing the edge of the wound as she worked. “I don’t want to do this. I’m sorry.”

His gaze didn’t falter, even as she murmured the apology again, with a cracking voice. He didn’t speak -he probably couldn’t- but the weight of his stare felt like an answer. He knew. Somehow, he knew.

More time passed, and the room emptied. The guards left her alone with him, trusting her to finish her work under the ever-present cameras. The sterile silence closed in around them. She wiped the sweat from her brow and whispered again, “I’m sorry,” her voice breaking completely now. “I’m sorry for all of it.”

Soldat blinked slowly, almost as if acknowledging her words, but his body remained still. Her fingers lingered over his shoulder where fresh skin covered what had been a deep gash, and couldn’t stop herself from caressing his bloodied temple before going back to mend him.

By the time she finished, her legs felt like water, barely holding her upright. The Soldat’s breathing had evened, the jagged cuts on his skin replaced by fresh, pale scars. His metal arm still hung limp, but it wasn’t her area of expertise. He looked human again, or as close to human as Hydra would ever allow him to be. She allowed herself to caress him again as if that gentle touch could make up for what her actions on his body entailed, his endless torment.

When the door creaked open, the spell was broken. The handler barked a question she didn’t hear over the roaring in her ears. Then he stepped forward, inspecting her work with a critical eye. He tugged at Soldat’s extremities and poked his body, then he turned to her with a smile that chilled her blood.

“Well done,” he said, sickeningly sweet. “See? You’re still useful. You’ve earned yourself another day.”

The words felt like a slap, a grim reminder of her reality. She wasn’t a person to them. She was a tool, an extension of their will, just as much a prisoner as the man she had just saved. Her power was her curse, chaining her to a life of servitude. And for what? To keep the Winter Soldier standing. To ensure he could carry out their dirty work, kill their enemies, and endure whatever horrors they deemed necessary for him to endure.

The handler gestured to the guards. “Take her back. She’ll need her strength for tomorrow.”

They grabbed her arms, dragging her toward the door. Soldat's eyes shifted for a moment, trailing her as they walked her out, his gaze still glazing but faintly flickering with awareness. Then the door slammed behind her, sealing them both back into their respective hells.

----

The cryopreservation always left her disoriented, the passage of time reduced to a murky void of nothingness. Days, months, years, they blurred together into a haze she couldn’t untangle. Based on the count of the meager breakfasts slid through the cell door, it had been two days since they’d pulled her from the tube. Her body still ached from the cold, and the numbness clung stubbornly to her limbs.

When the metallic clank of the cell door jolted her from her thoughts, she instinctively tensed. Two guards stood there, gesturing sharply for her to follow.

The halls they guided her through were unfamiliar. These weren’t the sterile corridors leading to the medical bay. These walls were darker and the air was heavier, and the faint hum of machinery was replaced by an unsettling silence. Confused, she knit her brows but swallowed the urge to ask.

When they descended a narrow staircase, her stomach sank. The flickering lights cast long shadows against concrete walls. They passed rows of heavy metal doors, each marked with faint rust and grime. No cells with bars, no windows, just solid slabs of steel.

Her breath hitched when they stopped in front of a door near the end of the corridor. One guard yanked it open with a screech that set her teeth on edge. The other shoved her forward, barking a single command: “Fix it.”

The door slammed shut behind her, and the sound echoed in the cramped room. She stood frozen, since the stench hit her like a physical blow: blood, sweat, semen, and something else she couldn’t place.

Her gaze darted around the sparse room. A cot pushed against one wall. A table cluttered with ominous instruments. And in the corner, barely illuminated by the flickering overhead bulb, the Soldat.

Her breath left her in a shaky exhale as she took him in. He was curled into himself, naked, trembling despite the heat radiating from his abused flesh. Blood and cum stained his thighs, while bruises painted his skin in grotesque patterns. His wrists and ankles bore the raw marks of restraints, and burns and welts layered over old scars, turning his body into a tapestry of pain.

But it was his face that shattered her. A blank mask with hollow and distant wet eyes, haunted by whatever horrors had left him in this state.

She forced herself to move. When her shadow fell over him, his head snapped up and his vacant blue eyes locked onto hers. The movement was sharp and instinctive, but he didn’t lash out, didn’t flinch. He simply stared, as though he were looking through her rather than at her.

She paused for a moment, crouching to his level, resting her hands lightly on her knees. “It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice steady. “I’m here to help you.”

He didn’t respond. The haunted emptiness in his expression pierced her chest. He didn’t deserve this. “I know,” she said softly, inching closer. “I know it hurts. I’ll do what I can.”

She reached for him carefully, brushing his arm. His muscles tensed under her touch, but he didn’t pull away. Gently, she guided his arm away from where he’d been clutching his side, revealing the bruises and burns scattered across his flesh. Her stomach churned, but her hands remained steady. She had no room for hesitation, no time to falter.

As she worked, she whispered to him, not apologies this time, but reassurances. “I’m with you now, I’ll make this right, even if it’s only for now.”

As expected, he didn’t speak, didn’t move beyond the involuntary twitches of his battered body. But his eyes stayed on her, betraying a silent acknowledgment, a fragile thread of trust.

She tried to focus on the burns on his chest, the raw welts along his ribs, anything but the bruises and blood marking his inner thighs. But eventually, she had no choice. The damage there couldn’t be ignored. Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, she shifted closer, and her hands trembled for the first time that day.

She couldn’t comprehend it. Couldn’t understand how anyone could twist a man into this, into something pliable, stripped of will, used like a puppet for their every vile whim. The red book and the chair had shattered his mind, and then they’d wielded that power not only to carry out their heinous crimes but also to satiate their carnal perversions.

“Soldat,” she said softly as she crouched closer. “I need to see the rest.”

His chest started to rise and fall in shallow breaths. His lip was caught between his teeth, bitten hard enough to draw blood. The distant, vacant expression he’d worn before had given way to something else now, resignation, or shame.

“I know,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “I know it's private -should it be-, and it hurts a lot… but I promise I’ll make it better, yes?”

Her tone was as soft as she could make it, the kind someone might use with a frightened child. For a moment, there was nothing. Then he exhaled and shifted ever so slightly, granting her access. The movement wasn’t much, but it spoke volumes. He didn’t fight her. He didn’t resist. Even now, after everything, he complied.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Her hands moved carefully, brushing his battered flesh with as much gentleness as she could muster. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her focus on the healing, not on the tears threatening to spill over. Every touch she had to make felt like another betrayal of his dignity, but she couldn’t leave him like this, they wouldn’t leave him like this.

“It’s not fair,” she said under her breath “Fuck, it’s not fair.”

Every so often, her gaze flicked to his face, but he didn’t look at her this time. His eyes were closed, and his body was eerily still except for the faint shudder of his breathing.

—-

Some days, she wondered if he resented her. If he was even capable of that. She wasn’t the one inflicting the pain, wasn’t the one abusing him, but she was the one who ensured he survived it. She pieced him together, over and over, a cruel kind of mercy that prolonged his torment. Without her, they wouldn’t have been able to keep breaking him the way they did.

It haunted her.

Sometimes, it seemed like he remembered her. On the rare occasions when his body was whole and he wasn’t immediately dragged back out for another mission or another “session,” his vacant gaze would linger on her. Just a flicker of recognition in those haunted blue eyes, something that made her wonder if, somewhere beneath the chaos they’d inflicted on his mind, a part of him knew who she was.

Other times, he didn’t seem to know her at all. He would stare past her like she wasn’t even there. She didn’t know which was worse: the possibility that he hated her or the possibility that he didn’t think of her at all.

-----

Nine years had passed since her escape from their clutches. Nine years since Captain America and his team put down Pierce and dismantled Hydra’s plans, the Soldat went missing and she got away in the chaos of the fight.

In the early days, survival had been a constant struggle. She’d wandered aimlessly at first, her coarse, prison-like clothes drawing stares from strangers who gave her a wide berth. The world was unrecognizable: a kaleidoscope of flashing screens, roaring cars, and people glued to strange, glowing devices. Everything felt faster, louder, and infinitely more confusing than the world she remembered.

For a couple of days, she kept to the shadows, but the hunger and desperation eventually pushed her to the edge. One night, trembling and exhausted, she walked into a police station. The officer at the front desk glanced at her with a mixture of suspicion and concern, likely wondering if she had escaped from a mental institution. And maybe, in a way, she had. She tried to explain, spilling out her words in a garbled mess of decades-old trauma. She told them about being taken, about Hydra, about the years spent in cryo. The officer raised a skeptical eyebrow and asked her to sit while he "sorted things out."

She knew they didn’t believe her. Not until one of the younger officers, fresh off patrol, walked in with a nasty road burn on his arm. She didn’t think, just acted. In seconds, the wound knitted itself back together under her glowing hands. The room fell silent, every set of eyes fixed on her in a mix of fear and awe.

From there, things moved quickly. The police dug into her story, and to everyone’s shock, her name and photo flagged a cold case from October 1962, a missing person report filed by her family. A woman who had disappeared without a trace, and presumed dead after two years of fruitless searching.

But what the police uncovered was too big for them to handle alone. They passed her case to federal authorities, and soon, she found herself in the hands of people who promised her a fresh start, though she quickly learned that nothing came without strings attached.

The feds helped her establish a new identity, gave her a place to live, and taught her how to navigate the modern world. In exchange, she worked for them using her mutant powers to heal injuries, aid covert operations, and clean up the messes no one else could.

Still, the past lingered in her mind, haunting her in the quiet moments. She often wondered what had become of the Winter Soldier, since freedom, she realized, was not the same as peace.

In the years that followed, she began piecing the fragments of her past into the puzzle of the present. The world had changed in ways she struggled to comprehend, yet she adapted, carving out a relatively ‘normal’ existence.

Then, one day, she heard his name.

James Buchanan Barnes.

She learned about him in bits and pieces from news reports and whispered conversations among the people she worked with. Steve Rogers' best friend. The Winter Soldier.

The details unfolded like a tragic epic: framed in a terrorist attack, slipping under the radar, fighting in Wakanda, only to vanish in the Blip. And then, five years later, he returned. His face, no longer the blank mask of the Soldat, appeared on screens everywhere as the government pardoned him under strict conditions: mandatory therapy and restricted accommodations, a leash that kept him just shy of true freedom.

She watched every news segment, every interview. He wasn’t the weapon she remembered. There was something different in his eyes. Half-masked pain, certainly, but also humanity. He was trying, struggling to reclaim himself, to exist in a world that only knew him as a ghost or a monster.

It wasn’t an obsession. At least, that’s what she told herself. It was curiosity, concern, a connection she couldn’t sever no matter how hard she tried. Because no one else could understand what they’d been through. No one else had seen the depths of his torment, or felt the same chains biting into their skin.

She hadn’t planned to ever contact him. The idea terrified her. For all she knew, his fractured mind might not even remember her. Worse, maybe he did and resented her for the role she’d played, for the way she’d prolonged his torment under Hydra’s commands. Those thoughts were enough to keep her at a distance, safely watching from the shadows of her new life.

But life and destiny had their ways of unraveling carefully laid plans.

-----

Her work with Sam Wilson had started as another government assignment, one of many designed to keep her powers useful and her secrets buried. Yet, somewhere along the way, it had turned into something more. A friendship. He didn’t know about her past -no one did, actually-. He only knew the version of her life the government had scripted, a fabricated identity polished to perfection.

Leaving that aside, she liked him. He had a way of making her feel less like a displaced ghost and more like a person. Sometimes, they hung out after missions, sharing laughs over beers or stories about the ridiculous situations they found themselves in. And when he came back from a mission bruised or limping, she always tried to help.

That friendship had led her here, to a bustling backyard party, with warm laughter and music filling the air. Sam’s birthday celebration. She had accepted his invitation without thinking much of it, expecting a relaxed evening with a few familiar faces. What she hadn’t expected was to see him.

Standing at the drinks table, not the Winter Soldier, not the cold, empty Soldat she remembered, but James. His shoulders were relaxed, his hair shorter, and his blue eyes clearer than she’d ever seen them. He looked... alive in a way that left her breathless. For a moment, she froze, and her stomach twisted into knots. But there was no turning back now.

Not when he lifted his face after grabbing a glass of soda, only to find her mere inches away, rooted in place and staring at him like a rabbit in the middle of the road.

Her breath caught, and the world around them seemed to fade into a blur of laughter and music as his piercing blue eyes locked onto hers.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. The faintest flicker of something -recognition? confusion?- crossed his face. The glass in her hand suddenly felt heavy, and she tightened her grip around it as her heart raced.

“H-hi,” she managed to mutter, almost lost beneath the hum of the party.

He tilted his head slightly, deliberately, as if weighing her. For a long, agonizing moment, he simply looked at her with an unreadable expression. Then his lips parted, and a single word escaped from them, low and hoarse.

“You.”

Her stomach dropped while her mind scrambled for a response. Did he remember her? Or was it just the way her face stirred a distant and fractured memory?

“I-” she started, but the words tangled in her throat.

His gaze darted over her, taking her in: the way she clutched the glass like a lifeline, the way her shoulders tensed, the way she made one step back as though retreating was an option.

Sam’s voice cut through the moment, cheerful and oblivious. “Hey, Buck! Flirting already with one of my girls?”

Bucky flinched, the spell breaking as he snapped his gaze toward Sam, stiffening his posture. “I’m not f-”

“Don’t be a dick with her,” Sam interrupted, grinning as if he were the greatest matchmaker alive. “She’s good people. Y/n, this is Bucky, a pain in the ass but a good friend. Bucky, this is Y/n.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, his expression still unreadable as his eyes flicked back to her. He didn’t speak, didn’t offer a hand or a smile, just narrowed his eyes slightly, like he was trying to solve a riddle only he could see.

Her pulse thundered in her ears, and her instincts screamed at her to move, to flee, to escape his scrutiny before his fractured memories pieced her together.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she squared her shoulders and forced her lips into what she hoped was a polite and not-too-awkward smile. “Nice to meet you,” she said, her voice much steadier than she felt.

Bucky studied her for a moment longer. Finally, he gave a slight nod, stepping back as though he’d decided she wasn’t worth the effort of figuring out. “Yeah. Same,” he muttered before turning to leave.

As he moved away, she exhaled, a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her grip on the glass trembled, the adrenaline coursing through her leaving her both relieved and strangely disappointed.

“Don’t take it personally,” Sam intervened, leaning in with a knowing smirk. “He specializes in a heterogeneous game of staring, brooding, and groaning. Dry comments here and there, too.”

She let out a soft, nervous laugh, grateful for the break in tension. “Good to know,” she murmured, still gripping the glass tightly.

Sam patted her shoulder with the easy camaraderie of someone who had no idea the weight of the moment that had just passed. “He’s not so bad once you get past all the walls. Might take a while to crack that nut, but hey, who knows?”

-----

Two months later, Sam called her for a job.

“It’s a simple mission,” he’d explained. “Poland. The higher-ups want you to stay at the safehouse most of the time in case something goes wrong, but if we need someone to move unnoticed -play tourist, fetch intel- they figured you’re our best bet.”

She hesitated for a beat, her instincts screaming at her to say no this time. But she had never ditched a mission before and Sam will be there, so she agreed.

When she climbed aboard the military plane early the next morning, with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, she almost turned around and fled.

Bucky was already sitting there, strapped into his seat, with his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was as closed off as ever, and his gaze was fixed somewhere on the cabin wall. Her stomach dropped, and before her brain could process what she was doing, she turned sharply on her heel and headed straight for the cockpit.

The pilots greeted her with raised brows, clearly surprised to see her there before takeoff. She forced a nervous smile, chatting with them about flight logistics, weather conditions, anything to stretch the time and delay the inevitable.

“Shouldn’t you be back in the cabin?” one of them asked eventually, glancing at her curiously.

“Just thought I’d keep you company,” she replied, slightly strained.

The hum of the plane’s engines growing louder reminded her she couldn’t hide forever. She exhaled deeply, gripping the doorframe. Maybe, she could slip into some corner, unnoticed once the plane was in the air.

But life wasn’t so kind.

“Sam’s voice came loud and clear, calling her. “C’mon, you’re holding us up!”

Bucky’s head turned, locking his sharp gaze onto her the moment she entered. His expression didn’t shift -no frown, no surprise- but what she saw in those blue eyes made her knees threaten to buckle.

She forced herself to take a steadying breath. “Hi,” she greeted the two men quickly, her voice barely above a murmur, before moving to the furthest seat she could find.

Her hands fumbled as she pulled a book from her bag, flipping it open without even checking the page. She pretended to read, scanning the same line over and over as if the words might somehow shield her from the weight of Bucky’s stare.

Sam furrowed his brows, glancing between them with a mix of confusion and curiosity. He’d been prepared for the usual brooding and disagreements from Bucky -his default settings on most missions- but he’d expected her to be more engaged. She’d always been sharp and chatty, quick to offer solutions or crack a joke, but now she seemed... distant.

He leaned toward Bucky, “Did you scare her off already before I got here?”

Bucky shot him an unimpressed sidelong glance. “I didn’t say a word.”

Sam, determined to break the awkward silence, leaned back in his seat and raised his voice. “Alright, we’re stuck in this tin can for the next few hours. Someone better start talking, or I’m gonna make us all play twenty questions.”

She forced a small smile, though her eyes remained glued to the book. “You win. I’m reading.”

He huffed dramatically, shaking his head. “Tough crowd.” Then he turned back to Bucky. “Guess it’s just you and me, Buck.”

Bucky didn’t respond, his gaze flicking toward her briefly before settling on the wall ahead. His expression remained impassive, but his metal fingers tapped against his thigh, the only sign of some internal debate.

-----

After a while, Sam, ever persistent, leaned forward, and turned to her “So,” he started, casually but probing, “you ever been to Poland in other mission before? Got any recommendations for pierogi spots or are we flying blind here?”

She hesitated, tightening slightly her fingers on the edge of her book. Avoiding interaction had been her plan, but the pointed look Sam sent her way made it clear he wasn’t going to let her off the hook.

Finally, she closed the book with a soft sigh, forcing herself to meet his expectant gaze. “No, never been,” she replied, cautious. “Though I think I read somewhere Kraków’s old town is nice.”

Sam grinned, seizing the opportunity. “Kraków, huh? I’ll take that as a vote to play tourist if we get the chance. “Maybe you can even guide us, seeing as you’re good at blending in.”

“I doubt we’ll have time, Sammy,” she said quickly, trying to deflect.

“Oh, come on,” Sam teased, leaning back in his seat with an exaggerated grin. “You’re one of the friendliest people I know. You’ll probably charm us into some exclusive spots. Earn your keep!”

She let out a soft, nervous laugh, shaking her head. “I think you’ve mistaken ‘friendly’ for ‘quiet enough not to get in trouble.’”

Sam smirked, undeterred. “Nah, you’ve got that vibe. People trust you, and open up to you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how often you walk away with more intel than anyone else.”

Her fingers tensed slightly on the edge of her book, but she forced herself to smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment... I think.”

“It is,” Sam replied, his tone warm and easy. “And I’m just saying, if we do get downtime, we’re counting on you to find the good spots.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she managed to say, though her stomach churned under Bucky’s relentless stare.

He hadn’t said a word, but the weight of his gaze made every exchange feel heavier like he was dissecting her responses, searching for cracks in her calm facade. She refused to look at him, focusing instead on Sam’s cheerful grin.

Sam clapped his hands together. “That’s the spirit. See, Buck? She’s already proving more useful than you.”

Bucky huffed, the barest flicker of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth before disappearing. “Yeah, well, let’s see if she’s still useful when things go south.”

Her stomach tightened at his words, though she kept her face carefully neutral. It wasn’t outright hostility, but the skepticism in his tone felt like a challenge, a warning wrapped in a dry comment.

Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Man, you’ve gotta work on your people skills. Not everyone you meet is gonna double-cross you, you know.”

Bucky didn’t respond and bit his lower lip as he looked away, clearly done with the conversation.

She forced a small smile, trying to defuse the tension. “I think he’s just saying I should prove myself first.”

Sam shot her an encouraging look. “You don’t need to prove anything to him. Trust me, you’re good-”

“Sam,” Bucky intervened almost dryly. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. This isn’t sightseeing. It’s a mission. If she’s not-”

“I can handle myself,” she interrupted, managing to keep her voice steady despite the sudden rush of heat to her face.

The fact that she addressed directly to him got Bucky’s attention. He turned, locking his gaze onto hers, and for a moment, the silence between them felt heavier than the thrum of the plane’s engines.

“Guess we’ll find out,” he murmured, leaning back slightly in his seat. He kept staring at her sharply and unyielding. After a beat of silence, he added, “And, actually, what exactly do you do?”

Fuck.

The question wasn’t casual, she could see it in the way his eyes stayed fixed on her, a glint of something just beneath the surface. He knew. He was waiting for her to say it, to confirm what he already remembered but was pretending not to.

Sam raised an eyebrow, looking between them. “Bucky, come on. She’s solid, alright? I wouldn’t bring her along if she wasn’t.”

Bucky didn’t even glance at him. His attention stayed locked on her. “I didn’t say she wasn’t solid. Just curious what her... specialty is.”

She forced herself to take a steadying breath. If he wanted to play coy, fine. Two could play that game.

“I’m good at staying unnoticed,” she said, feigning a casual tone “Recon, blending in, getting intel…” She shrugged lightly, as though explaining her skill set was just a routine part of the job.

Bucky tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in faint amusement. “That it?”

She gave him a polite smile, curling her fingers around the edge of the book on her lap. “Well, I’ve been told I’m handy in a pinch. Let’s just say I’ve got a knack for fixing things.”

His lips quirked, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Fixing things, huh?”

“Yeah,” she replied smoothly, ignoring the way her heart raced under his scrutiny. “Little cuts, scrapes, that kind of thing. Nothing too fancy.”

Sam, oblivious to the subtle tension between them, chuckled. “Don’t let her undersell it. She devours. Saved my ass more than once, you wouldn’t believe the absolute carnage I've seen her mend.”

“Good to know,” Bucky commented, with his gaze still locked on her. There was something in his eyes -something sharp-, almost daring her to break first, but she didn’t flinch.

“Just doing my job.” She added, her eyes still glued to the unreadable baby blues.

Bucky leaned back, the corner of his mouth twitched as if he wanted to say more but decided against it.

Sam glanced between them. “It's pretty early for a staring contest.”

She didn’t answer; she just smiled at him and returned her focus to the book. He remembered, she was sure of it.

Still, if he wanted her to confirm it outright, he’d have to try harder. For now, she’d play his game, and she was determined to win.

-----

The safehouse was a two-bedroom apartment in an old building that groaned with every step. It was cramped but functional, the kind of place that wouldn’t draw attention. As they settled in, Sam tossed his bag onto one of the worn couches and stretched like a cat.

“Alright,” he said, grinning at her. “Do us all a favor and work your magic in the kitchen. I haven’t had a proper meal in weeks, and I can’t survive on takeout and those protein bars Bucky packs.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Cooking would give her something to focus on, and it was the perfect excuse to isolate for a couple of hours.

“Fine, let’s see what I can do,” she muttered, scurrying inside the kitchen.

“You’re the best!” Sam called, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll be back soon, gotta meet a contact nearby. You two... play nice.”

The sound of the door closing made her grimace. She exhaled slowly, tying an old apron on her waist as she dug through the sparse pantry and fridge. Within minutes, she was chopping some potatoes, humming Animals while she was at it, because fuck it all.

She felt the weight of his gaze pressed against her back like a physical thing before she heard him. He stood in the kitchen doorway, quiet and unmoving, a presence impossible to ignore.

Her grip on the knife tightened, but she didn’t turn around. “Need something?”

“No.” The simple word carried so much weight that it made her pause mid-cut.

She exhaled slowly and resumed her task. “Then why are you standing there?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretched until it became almost unbearable.

“You’re good at it.”

Her hand froze. “At what?”

“Pretending.”

She forced herself to keep chopping, while her pulse hammered in her ears. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” His tone didn’t carry malice, but the words felt heavier than any accusation. He leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms. “I remember you.”

Her chest tightened, and the room suddenly felt smaller. “You’re mistaken,” she said flatly.

“I’m not.” He took another step forward. His tone was soft, but the words were unrelenting. “You were there. Hydra.”

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blackcatner00 · 12 days ago

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Mz. Bitch's Masterlist

Started: 2/24/24 Last updated: 1/6/24

Due to inline link limits, please click on the story name to start reading and follow the chapter links. Thanks little darlings! Love y'all!

MARVEL

Bucky Barnes *One shots Sex Pollen My Alpha Got Nothing On You +parts Movie Night Please Come Back Vibranium & Stainless Steel Shy Dream Girl A little help from my friend Angry baby? Throw It in the Dishwasher +parts The Boss +parts I.T. Time to Heal A Very Cutesy, Very Demure Halloween Regrets & Apologies Quite a Workout +parts Overheard Oh Sister Let's Go Down Little Sea Storm I may be a real bad boy...but baby I'm a real good man Zhihn moya Flirty A Bumpy Ride +parts Fire! Lots of Love +parts Things Are Not As They Seem It's Been a Long, Long Time La Muerte Deja Vu Soldat Blood and...Balsam? *Series Breaking the Class Ceiling **Finished Bucky Barnes is a middle class clerk. He needs to marry well to take care of himself and his father. Y/N Y/L/N is the heir to a millionaire fortune, who is blunt, no-nonsense, flirtatious, and looking for a partner. Everyone is vying for her hand. Can Bucky ever win? Pretty Pointy Smile **Finished Bucky was born different, and has been judged for it ever since. His father has had enough and sells him to the circus. The acceptance and love of his newfound family, and the beautifully fierce ringmaster, help him realize he’s not the monster everyone else made him out to be. Sugar Mama **Finished Bucky is overworked and struggling to get by. The bills are piling up and he’s consistently in the red with no end in sight. Y/N is a billionaire’s daughter, entrepreneur and philanthropist having a hard time finding true friends or love. She has a proposition for him. Marriage of Convenience **Finished Y/N’s father is gone, and he leaves it all to her. But in 1880s Oregon, she can’t own land without a husband. Under the threat of it all being taken away by a land hungry Sheriff, what’s a girl to do with no prospects? Maybe one of the cowboys on the farm can help… The Temptation **Finished Father Barnes is devout, steadfast, and undeterred by flirtatious congregants. So why does this fallen angel tempt him so? You cannot serve two masters. Will he choose God, or his heart? Norsemen & Anglo-Saxons **Finished Princess Y/N has a secret that her parents are ashamed of. A conquering Viking chief recognizes the gift she has. Will they be able to bring peace between warring people, and maybe find love along the way? Stranded **Finished Tossed overboard and lost at sea, Bucky washes up on an uninhabited island. Injured, lost and scared, with little to no wilderness training, he fights to survive. But is he really alone? The Fuck Up **Finished Bucky fucked up. A few times. Will his best friend ever be able to forgive him?

Naughty Nanny **Finished Bucky had a lovechild from a one night stand. He barely even remembered it, and was surprised to find a baby on his doorstep 9 months later. But one look at that little girl and he knew she was his and that he’d die for her. The only problem was, he knew nothing about babies, and being an Avenger meant he couldn’t just drop everything and be a dad full time. Then he found the perfect nanny…or so he thought. Run, pretty girl, run **Finished Even with the safeguards put in place after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., the remaining Avengers find themselves on the run after the American government falls into disarray. The code word is sent, and they’re officially fugitives. Bucky makes a run for the safe house set up for emergencies like this where the Avengers are told to meet up, but on the way saves the pregnant agent turned payroll specialist that he was partnered with. Will they make it before she goes into labor? Or at all?

Pretty P.A. **Finished Y/N has been the personal assistant to the most influential and famous fashion model agency director in the industry for the past 13 years. They’ve decided to retire, and are leaving the agency in the hands of their protege and former model, Bucky Barnes. He seems plenty qualified, and Y/N is excited for a chance to work with him. Change always takes time, but the new insanely hot boss is distrustful and hesitant towards her. The Gorgon **Finished The village nearest the mountain by the sea has a generations-old tradition of offering sacrifices to the monster in the mountain to gain favor and keep its wrath away from the people. Every person starting from the age of 15 has to take a turn in making the journey up the mountain to the mouth of the cave once a year to drop off the gifts…and it’s a journey that some never come back from. Y/N took her turn when she was 15, and now the rotation has come back to her again. If the gift isn’t given by the autumn solstice, there’s no telling what harm the creature will wreak onto the people. With a seemingly insurmountable obstacle in her way, will she make it to save her and her people? Can a monster have a heart? Dreamboat **Finished Y/N, her brother Steve, and his best friend Bucky all moved out West for a new start after Y/N was almost caught up and hurt in a rival gang fight. Steve wasn’t in shape to fight in the war, but Bucky was drafted. While out West, Y/N finds herself in trouble again from the local bar owner. Steve is suddenly drafted for an experimental division of the army, but leaving Y/N alone isn’t an option. Bucky comes home needing help, and Steve comes up with a crazy compromise. Sweet Pumpkin **Finished Bucky is struggling with the dating world and knows that if he ever hopes to have a serious relationship, that he needs to get through his touch deprivation issues. It’s not that he doesn’t want to touch people, or them to touch him, but after decades of pain he doesn’t know how to accept physical intimacy from others, or how to give it himself. He hires Y/N, an intimacy coach and professional cuddler, who comes highly recommended. Will his heart be able to distinguish between a service given versus real love?

Yes Mama **Finished Bucky Barnes has made quite the name for himself in the underground mob boss world. But he’s not the boss. Just the face of the Family.

A Pirate's Life for Me **Finished Captain Bucky Barnes and his crew on the Armored Star are the most fearsome pirates in the known world. They’ve given the British fleet a run for their money as they try to free the enslaved and take from the rich, but they could have never guessed how the British empire would retaliate against them. When a new pirate ship appears and lays waste to all in its path, will Bucky and his crew be ready for the wrath of a woman scorned?

The Witch and The Doctor **Finished Bucky thought he could make a difference, getting a medical license and trying to change people’s minds. But the 1600s New World is a harsh place with cruel people. After being accused of witchcraft he makes a run for it, facing the dangers of the woods and the rumored witch that lives within them.

Sugar & Spicy Books **WIP Y/N is an accomplished writer who is newly divorced, and out of fear of the unknown, moves back to her small hometown she swore she’d never come back to. She comes across her best friend that never left, who helps her out of a tough spot. Will old feelings arise? Or is she just too big for such a small place now?

Peter Parker *One shots Emotional *Short Series Tasty **Finished Peter just wanted to have one night of fun. Then that night of fun almost killed him. Now it won’t stop haunting him. And he’s loving it.

*Series The Young Duke **Finished Queen Y/N is running out of time. At 35 years old she has to marry and make an heir to the throne, but all suitors so far have been unsatisfactory in one way or another. Duke Peter Parker is the young Duke of Queensland, and his family is on the brink of ruin due to his parents’ failures and famines throughout the years. He needs to find an advantageous marriage to save his family’s estate, so when an invitation from the Crown comes, he jumps at the opportunity. Will it be a match?

Steve Rogers *Oneshot Sex Pollen

*Series My Queen **Finished Steve Rogers is the newly inherited Duke of Brooklyn, struggling to fix the mistakes of his parents while enduring an overbearing, matchmaking mother. He has no intention of anything romantic in his future, but will a forced love connection with the Queen change his mind?

Fortuna Major **Finished Steve Rogers came home from World War II shell shocked and overwhelmed by the place he once called home. After losing his mother he and his injured best friend Bucky decide to find a quieter, slower way of life to heal from the war. They head out west until they hit Fortuna, California, and get jobs in the lumber industry. Steve comes across a local lodging for miners and lumber workers, and falls head over heels for the female owner who takes no man’s shit.

Stucky *Oneshot Three's Company

*Series Emerald Hallow **Finished Steve Rogers wants to move on. He wants to forget Peggy, and dive into the 21st century. But this man of the past doesn’t know how to navigate being an Alpha in a modern world of skittish Omegas. He prides himself on his self control, never wanting to harm or scare them, until something just smells too damn good. And he's not the only one who smells it...

Actors

Sebastian Stan *Series A Patient Man **Finished Sebastian swore to never fall for another co-star again. Until Y/N drops into his life.

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blackcatner00 · 15 days ago

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Photos found on: pexels, unsplash and GQ

Pairing: Mob boss!Bucky Barnes x Mob boss fem!reader

Warnings: Character deaths, violence, gun use, talk of drug and alcohol use, threat of sexual assault, more as the series progresses make sure to read each individual chapter warning.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Drabbles: Playground bully • after you left • PDA • who is Y/N?• Dot finds out • jealousy • bad news • avoiding an argument • all marked up • no matter what

What ifs: grieving • abuse

Summary: You met Bucky Barnes when you were both 6 years old. More importantly he became your best friend. Being part of the two most feared mob families wasn’t easy but you were there for each other.

Your relationship with Bucky grew and so did your role in the family business. With the help of his right hand man you learned everything you needed to from your father. He was kind and merciful when he needed to be and ruthless when he had to. By the age of 15 you knew your way around a knife and a gun. By 18 you knew where to hit to cause the most pain. As your father got sick you started taking on more responsibilities and making your own alliances. By the time you realized there was a traitor in the business it was too late and you were blindsided.

Your only option was to go to Bucky and he tried to help he really did. But there was so much he could do since his father was still head of the family. Mr. Barnes had never liked you and when the chance to get you out of his son’s life presented itself he took it.

With no where else to turn to your only option was to leave New York. To get to live another day, survive away from the only person left that loved you. A week turned into a month, a year into a decade. You were done running. The time you spent away you used to make new connections, new deals and new Allies. You were stronger, wiser and more determined to get revenge on the man that took everything from you.

After years of planning your return, done by sticking to the shadows it was time to make your presence known. But the moment your eyes connected with those steel blue eyes you had missed so much you have to ask is it a crime to still want him?

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blackcatner00 · 16 days ago

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My little love

Created by @talesofadragon photos found on Pinterest

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced Fem! Reader

Warnings: mentions of SA, mentions of child abuse, canon level violence, Bucky and his feelings, possible smut make sure to check each chapter for warnings!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40

EXTRAS

Summary:

For two years Bucky had enjoyed his new found freedom. He could go out whenever he wanted. No one was forcing him to do things he didn’t want to do. For the first time in a long time Bucky enjoying was falling in love. You had been the one to capture his heart. He was painfully oblivious that you returned his affections but he’d rather be your friend than nothing at all.

You had been new to the Avengers team when Bucky was found. At first you had volunteered to help bring him in but you worried that your abilities to manipulate metal would make him keep his distance. You had been pleasantly surprised when that wasn’t the case. Now with every day that passed you fell more in love with Bucky, you were also unaware of his feeling for you.

After a raid to a hydra detention center and the discovery of hydra’s new test subject, Bucky will have to confront abuse he didn’t know about. He feels like hydra still has control over him and he’s not sure what to do. When Bucky fell from the train hydra took away his chance at love and a family, now they’ve basically forced it on him. The new revelation with force him make choices he never knew he would have to make, he only hopes he can do the right thing.

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blackcatner00 · 16 days ago

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Under Pressure | Part 3

Modern!Bucky x reader AU

Word Count:3.8k

Warnings: Mentions of su!cide attempt, depression, angst

A/N: TB to when this was suppose to only be one long ass cliff hanger fic lol

Masterpost

----

The flashing red and blue lights from the emergency vehicles cast harsh, flickering shadows through the window. The apartment felt heavy, suffocatingly silent except for the muffled voices of police officers speaking quietly near the door.

Sam took the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the weight of dread pressing down on him, cold and unforgiving, all the what ifs racing through his mind. When he reached your door, he froze for half a second, taking in the scene—the paramedics gone, the cops now lingering, and Bucky.

Bucky was sitting on your couch, his head bowed, his elbows braced on his knees. His hands were clasped together so tightly they were shaking, his knuckles white. He didn’t look up when Sam stepped inside.

“Buck,” Sam said, his voice hesitant, already cracking.

Slowly, Bucky turned his head, his red-rimmed eyes meeting Sam’s. They were hollow, haunted, like he wasn’t entirely there, looking at him like you were no longer here.

“No, no, no,” Sam muttered under his breath, panic creeping into his voice as he moved toward him.

Bucky’s face crumpled, and he buried it in his hands, a sound breaking out of him that Sam had never heard before. It wasn’t a sob; it was deeper, more guttural, like the sound of someone being torn apart.

Sam’s stomach dropped, his legs shaky as he turned to one of the officers. “Where is she?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The cop opened his mouth to respond, but Sam couldn’t hear him. His own heartbeat was too loud, a deafening thrum in his ears. He stumbled closer, his voice louder this time, more desperate. “Where is she? Is she alive?”

One of the officers, a woman with a calm but tired demeanor, stepped forward. “Yes,” she said firmly. “She’s alive. The paramedics got her heart beating again before they transported her to the hospital.”

Sam’s knees nearly buckled as the tension in his body released slightly. He turned back to Bucky, whose head was still in his hands. “She’s alive, man,” Sam said, his voice shaking. “You hear that? She’s alive.”

Bucky nodded faintly, but it was like he couldn’t fully absorb the words. He just stared at the floor, tears streaking down his face.

Sam sank onto the couch beside him, leaning forward to catch his breath. “Can we have a minute?” he asked the officers, his voice raw.

The female officer nodded. “We have everything we need. We’ll be outside to make sure the apartment gets locked up before you leave.” She paused, her voice softening. “Fifteen minutes.”

Sam nodded, pulling out his phone with trembling hands and sending a quick text to Steve:

Sam: Code red. Something happened to y/n. Meet us at the ER..

He turned to Bucky, who still hadn’t moved. Sam hesitated for a moment, then pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around his friend. Bucky didn’t react at first, but then he let out a broken sob, clinging to Sam like he was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“What happened, Buck?” Sam asked gently, his voice low but steady.

Bucky pulled back slightly, his hands shaking as he gestured toward the floor. “She was there,” he said, his voice trembling. “Right there.” His finger pointed to the spot where the paramedics had worked on you. “She was gone. She… she was dead, Sam. I saw her, she was dead…she died.”

Sam’s throat tightened, his eyes darting to the empty pill bottle sitting on the coffee table. He felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

“Was it…?” Sam started, his voice faltering. “Was it an attempt?”

Bucky shook his head violently, his jaw clenching as he tried to force the words out. “It wasn’t an attempt,” he said bitterly, his voice cracking. “She was successful.” His shoulders shook as another sob broke free. “She was gone, Sam. They—they were gonna call it.”

Sam’s chest tightened painfully, tears burning in his eyes as he stared at his friend. “Oh, my God.”

“I made them try again,” Bucky said, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands trembled as he gripped his knees. “I begged them. Told them to go one more time. Just one more. And they… they brought her back. But, Sam, I…” He choked on his words, shaking his head. “I lost her. She was gone.”

Sam reached out, gripping Bucky’s shoulder tightly. “She’s not gone, Buck. She’s alive.”

Bucky’s breath hitched, his tears falling harder. “But she doesn’t want to be! What if she…” He trailed off, his voice breaking completely.

Sam’s own tears slipped down his cheeks as he shook his head. “We’re not gonna let that happen,” he said firmly. “We’re gonna be there for her. Every step of the way.”

Bucky nodded weakly, his shoulders slumping as he leaned into Sam’s side, utterly spent.

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything pressing down on them. The apartment was quiet now, the flashing lights from outside casting eerie patterns across the walls.

----

The fluorescent lights of the hospital waiting room buzzed faintly, casting a cold, sterile glow over the space. The chairs were stiff and uncomfortable, arranged in neat rows that felt far too orderly for the chaos swirling in Bucky’s mind.

He sat slumped forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his head bowed as his hands fidgeted with a fraying thread on his jeans. His breathing was shallow, fast, his shoulders tight with tension. Every now and then, he glanced at the doors leading to the emergency ward, willing someone to walk through them and tell him you were okay. He hoped that maybe this would just be some sick nightmare because that's what it felt like.

Sam sat beside him, quiet but not calm, his knee bouncing restlessly as he stared at the floor. He kept glancing at Bucky, unsure if he should say something, do something, but the sheer anguish radiating from his friend made him hesitate. Sam was crushed, you were one of his best friends, he knew he should have tried more but at the same time he felt like he had. He kept replaying all the most recent moments he had spent with you, analyzing everything, how could he have not noticed any of the signs, he was trained to look for the signs.

The sound of hurried footsteps pulled Sam’s attention, and he looked up to see Steve and Natasha rushing into the waiting room. Natasha’s red hair was slightly disheveled, her face pale and pinched with worry, while Steve’s brows were furrowed in confusion and concern.

“Bucky!” Steve called, his voice sharp as his eyes scanned his friend. “Sam! What the hell is going on? What happened? Was she in an accident?”

Bucky didn’t look up. He didn’t even flinch at Steve’s voice. He stayed hunched over, his jaw clenched tightly.

Sam cleared his throat, his voice shaky as he tried to find the right words. “No,” he said quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“Then what?” Steve demanded, his frustration and fear mounting. “What happened? Why are we here?”

Sam hesitated, glancing at Bucky before looking back at Steve. His throat tightened as the words clawed their way out. “You remember high school? When Bucky told us Y/N… got sad? Like, really sad? And sometimes…” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue. “She didn’t wanna be alive anymore?”

Steve’s expression shifted instantly, his eyes widening as the memory slammed into him. “Yeah, I remember,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “But she was getting better, right? She was…” He trailed off, his gaze darting between Sam and Bucky, desperate for reassurance. “She was getting better. Right?”

Sam’s lips quivered, and he shook his head slightly, the weight of his next words crushing him. “She tried to, Steve,” he said, his voice breaking. “She tried to.”

Steve froze, his face contorting with a mix of shock and disbelief. “What?” he breathed, his voice barely audible. “I… I need to hear it, Sam. Tell me what happened.”

Sam looked over at Bucky, who still hadn’t moved. His face was blank, but his knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of his jeans.

“She tried to take her life,” Sam said finally, his voice trembling with the effort it took to say the words.

“No,” Natasha whispered, her voice breaking as she shook her head violently. “No, no, no. She wouldn’t…”

“She did,” Bucky said suddenly, his voice sharp and bitter as he lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot, his expression filled with anger and pain. “And you’re shocked? Really? After what you said to her? After the way you dismissed her?”

Natasha flinched as if she’d been slapped. “Bucky—”

“No!” he snapped, standing abruptly. His voice was louder now, filled with years of pent-up frustration and guilt. “You told her you didn’t want to be her friend anymore because she couldn’t show up for you. You told her she wasn’t there for your brightest moments, and then you walked away. You fucking walked away. We all walked away!” ”

“Bucky, stop, it's no one's fault, we couldn’t have seen it coming.” Steve said, his voice calm but firm, stepping forward, but Bucky turned on him too, his chest heaving.

“Are you kidding me? We're all at fault! Were shitty fucking friends!” Bucky shouted, his voice breaking as he pointed toward the emergency doors. “None of us saw it coming because we were all too busy pretending she was fine!”

Sam stood, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Bucky, stop,” he said softly, his own voice thick with emotion. “She wouldn’t want us turning on each other.”

Bucky let out a bitter, hollow laugh, his shoulders shaking. “She didn’t want any of this, Sam! She didn’t want life, and she didn’t want us. She wanted to leave, and she almost—” His voice cracked, and he turned away, running a hand down his face as tears spilled over.

Natasha stepped forward, tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked at Bucky. “Where is she?” she asked, her voice trembling. “What exactly happened?”

Bucky didn’t turn around. His hands gripped the back of one of the waiting room chairs so tightly it creaked under the pressure.

“They worked on her,” he said, his voice hollow. “She was gone. Right there on her living room floor.” He gestured toward the floor as if he were still standing in your apartment. “She was dead, Nat. I begged them to try one more time, and they did, and… and she came back.”

Natasha’s hand flew to her mouth, a muffled sob escaping as she stumbled back into Steve’s arms.

Steve held her tightly, his own tears pooling in his eyes as he looked at Bucky. “So she’s alive?” he asked, his voice unsteady.

Bucky nodded, his back still to them. “She’s alive. Barely.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over them like a storm cloud. No one spoke for a long moment, the only sound the faint hum of hospital machinery in the distance.

Finally, Sam cleared his throat, his voice steady but quiet. “We’re here now. For her. For each other. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

Bucky didn’t respond. He just nodded, his shoulders slumping as he sank back into the chair. His hands shook as he rubbed his face, the weight of everything pressing down on him like a vice.

The waiting room was thick with tension, Bucky sat slumped in his chair, his head in his hands, tears streaking down his face as he tried to hold himself together. Sam sat beside him, occasionally glancing toward the emergency doors, his leg bouncing nervously. Steve and Natasha were across from them, Natasha’s hands clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white as her nails dug into her palms.

When the door finally opened, all four of them looked up simultaneously, their breath hitching as a doctor stepped inside. The doctor was a middle-aged man with a kind but exhausted expression, his white coat slightly wrinkled, a clipboard tucked under one arm.

“Bucky Barnes?” he asked, glancing around the room.

Bucky’s heart stopped for a moment before he slowly raised his hand. “That’s me,” he said, his voice hoarse from crying.

The doctor nodded, stepping closer. “You’re listed as Y/N’s emergency contact.”

Bucky’s stomach twisted at those words, his mind racing. He managed a faint nod. “How… how is she?” he asked, his voice shaking.

The doctor let out a slow breath, his expression calm but serious. “She’s stable,” he said carefully. “But it was touch and go for a while. We lost her a few times… one of those times was for over two minutes. But she has a stable heartbeat now, and she’s breathing on her own.”

Relief crashed over the group like a wave, but it was short-lived as the doctor’s somber tone lingered.

“Is she going to be okay?” Sam asked, his voice tentative.

The doctor sighed, his gaze heavy. “It’s difficult to say. Every situation like this is unique, and every individual responds differently. We’re not sure what the long-term effects will be, if any. Losing oxygen for even a couple of minutes can cause brain damage. Right now, it’s impossible to know.”

Natasha let out a shaky breath, her hand flying to her mouth as tears spilled from her eyes.

“And from a psychological standpoint…” The doctor hesitated, his gaze softening. “When patients wake up after an attempt, their reactions can vary greatly. Some experience extreme distress or hysterics and require heavy monitoring. Others find a renewed meaning in life. And… some don’t wake up at all.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, his chest heaving as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying and failing to steady his breathing.

“We have to stay optimistic,” the doctor added gently. “She’s alive, and she’s fighting. That’s what matters right now.”

Sam nodded, swallowing hard. “Can we see her?”

The doctor gave a small smile. “Of course. I’ll take you to her room.”

They stood as one, following the doctor down the long, sterile hallway. The beeping of monitors and the faint hum of machinery grew louder as they approached the ICU. When they reached your room, the doctor pushed the door open and stepped aside to let them in.

The sight of you stole the breath from their lungs.

You were lying in the hospital bed, pale and still, your lips tinged with a faint bluish hue. Wires and tubes were connected to your body, machines beeping steadily to monitor your vitals. You looked lifeless, and for a moment, it was hard to believe the doctor’s words—She’s stable. She’s alive.

The doctor cleared his throat softly. “I’ll give you some time,” he said, his voice kind, before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

For a moment, no one moved. The weight of the moment pressed down on them, suffocating and unrelenting.

Bucky broke first.

He crumpled into the chair beside your bed, his face burying in his hands as sobs wracked his body. His shoulders shook violently, and the sound of his crying filled the small room. “This is all my fault..”

Sam crouched beside him, his hand resting on Bucky’s back. “Buck,” he said softly, his own voice thick with emotion. “It’s not your fault, man.”

Bucky shook his head, his hands gripping his hair. “I should’ve been there,” he choked out. “Why wasn’t I there? Why did I leave her alone?”

“Bucky, stop,” Steve said gently, stepping forward. “You can’t blame yourself for this”

Bucky’s head snapped up, his tear-streaked face twisted in anguish. “She told me to go, and I did, I left her! I knew she was getting bad again, I knew! I knew…”

“Buck—” Sam started, but Bucky cut him off, his voice rising in desperation.

“I love her,” he said, the words spilling out like a confession, raw and unfiltered. “I love her, and I never told her. And now she might leave without knowing. She might leave without ever knowing how much I love her.”

Natasha stepped forward, tears streaming down her face. “We all love her, Bucky,” she said softly, her voice shaking. “We’re all here for her.”

“No, you don’t get it!” Bucky snapped, standing abruptly and pacing the small space. His hands were shaking, his chest heaving as he struggled to get the words out. “I don’t just love her. I’m in love with her. I’ve always been in love with her. And now I might never get the chance to tell her. I love her so much.."

The room fell silent, his confession hanging heavy in the air.

Bucky turned back to the bed, his knees buckling as he sank into the chair again. He reached out, his trembling hand brushing against yours where it rested limply on the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Please don’t leave. Please wake up. I need you to wake up.”

His tears fell onto your hand as he gripped it tightly, his head bowed as he cried. The others stood quietly, their own tears falling as they watched the man who had always been their rock crumble under the weight of his grief.

And in the suffocating silence of the room, they waited.

---

The bass from the club’s speakers vibrated through the floor, the air thick with the smell of sweat, spilled drinks, and perfume. The neon lights pulsed in time with the music, casting flashes of pink and blue across the packed dance floor. You were pressed against the bar with Steve, Natasha, and Sam, all of you laughing and slightly tipsy, the heat of the club buzzing in your veins.

Natasha leaned in close, her red hair glowing under the club lights. “I can’t believe you didn’t want to celebrate your birthday!” she yelled over the music, grinning as she waved at the bartender. “This is the best idea we’ve had in forever!”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face. “You dragged me here!” you shouted back, laughing as Steve handed you a drink.

“And you’re welcome!” Natasha quipped, smirking as she threw her arm around you.

The DJ’s voice suddenly boomed over the music, catching your attention. “Alright, alright, alright! We’ve got a special shoutout tonight!”

Your stomach dropped, and you immediately turned to Natasha, your eyes narrowing. “What did you do?”

“Not me but..” Natasha grinned wickedly, handing you a shot. “You’re gonna need this,” she said, her tone gleeful.

“Wait, wait—” you started, but the DJ’s voice interrupted.

“We’ve got a birthday girl in the house! Y/N, this one’s for you baby!”

The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles, strangers clapping and screaming like they all knew you personally.

“Oh my God,” you groaned, throwing back the shot Natasha had handed you. The burn hit your throat just as the opening notes of Under Pressure blared through the speakers.

“No. No, no, no,” you said, shaking your head and laughing in disbelief. “Where is Bucky?”

As if on cue, you spotted him weaving through the crowd, a huge grin plastered across his face, his eyes shining with excitement. His hair was a little messy, his shirt slightly damp from the heat of the club, but he looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Bucky, you didn’t!” you yelled as he reached you, your laughter bubbling over.

“Of course I did! It's our song!” he shouted back, grabbing your hand. “C’mon, birthday girl!”

Before you could protest, he was pulling you toward the middle of the dance floor. The crowd seemed to part for him, the sweaty bodies making just enough room for the two of you.

As the iconic beat dropped, the two of you threw your heads back and screamed out the lyrics, your voices barely audible over the music but full of pure joy.

“Pressure, pushing down on me…”

Bucky’s hand never left yours, spinning you around as you both jumped and danced wildly, laughing so hard you could barely catch your breath. Every so often, he’d lean in close to shout a particularly dramatic lyric, his smile so big it made your chest ache with happiness.

By the time the song ended, both of you were panting, your faces flushed from the exertion and the heat of the club. The crowd around you roared with approval, and for a moment, it was just the two of you standing there, grinning at each other like idiots.

Bucky’s expression shifted slightly, his smile softening as his eyes searched yours. The noise of the club seemed to fade into the background, and for a split second, the world felt still.

“Hey, um” he said, his voice quieter now, barely audible over the next song. “I—”

“What?” you asked, leaning closer to hear him.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could, Sam appeared out of nowhere, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

“Birthday shots, let’s go!” Sam shouted, steering you back toward the bar with a wide grin.

You giggled, letting Sam guide you through the crowd, but you glanced back at Bucky over your shoulder. He was still standing there, watching you leave, his hand hanging in the air like he’d been about to reach for you.

For a moment, he just stood there, his lips parting slightly before he whispered to himself, “I love you.”

You stopped, turning to look at him with a laugh. “Are you coming?”

Bucky’s face broke into a soft smile, the kind that made your heart flutter in a way you didn’t want to analyze.

“With you? Anywhere,” he said, weaving through the crowd to catch up with you.

As he reached your side, his hand brushed against yours, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. As the night went on, filled with shots, laughter, and dancing, that moment stayed with him, etched into his memory like a perfect snapshot of a life he didn’t want to imagine without you.

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blackcatner00 · 24 days ago

Text

A Heart in Hiding

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Wet Dream, Angst-Hurt/Comfort, Allusions to Hydra's Trash Party, Medical Experimentation, Panic Attack.

Summary: Caught between the shadows of his past and an unexpected connection, Bucky wrestles with his demons and his growing feelings for a new Avenger.

Word Count: About 13.k.

notes: This is a revised version of Unspoken. It's been a while since I wanted to edit this story, and fortunately, I found the time to do it during the holidays. I hope you enjoy it.

The halls of the Avengers Tower felt different lately, with a new energy. Y/n had been living there for a few months now, being the newest addition to the group, providing support both in the field and at the Tower itself. Her mutation was a rare one: healing. It had proven invaluable in SHIELD's eyes long before she joined the Avengers, who welcomed her gladly when Fury introduced her to the team.

Steve, ever the diplomat, had been the first to welcome her, offering his steady support with a warm smile and reassuring words. Natasha followed soon after, sharing subtle smirks and the occasional dry quip that made her feel like she belonged. Even Tony, in his typical way, wove her into his world of banter, bestowing her with nicknames almost the moment she walked through the door. The rest of the team? They warmed up quicker than she’d expected.

Except for Bucky.

It wasn’t that he was unfriendly, just... distant. She hadn’t taken it personally at first; he was Bucky Barnes, after all. The man known for his stoic glares, clipped words, and the heavy shadows of his past. Given everything he’d endured, who could blame him for keeping to himself?

In the beginning, their interactions were minimal, little more than practical exchanges during missions or brief moments in the common areas. A muttered “thanks” when she patched him up: a scrape on his nose here, a swollen cheekbone there. Silence charged with meaning when her hands worked carefully on his shoulder and chest, where the tissue around the metal arm often swelled or became irritated. She could feel his discomfort, both physical and emotional, though he never said a word. A shared half-smile over early morning coffee, when the world was still and sleeplessness bound them both. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it felt like the start of something.

Gradually, those fleeting moments began to take shape. He started lingering in the kitchen when she made tea, his quiet “Need help with that?” or “How was your day?” carried an unexpected softness. They began to talk, really talk. What started as cautious conversations grew into something deeper. Sometimes, he would seek her out, not because he needed anything, but simply to show her something: a stray white cat he’d spotted on a morning run, a book he thought she might like, or a new recipe he’d stumbled upon online.

For a while, they settled into an easy rhythm. It wasn’t loud or obvious, but it felt meaningful, a fragile connection that made her think something real might bloom between them.

But suddenly, everything changed.

At first, it was small: responses shortened to brief nods, his gaze slipping away when she spoke. The conversations dwindled. The moments of shared closeness became few and far between. His presence grew colder, his body language tighter, as though he was retreating behind the walls she’d thought he was beginning to lower.

It bothered her more than she wanted to admit. She wasn’t the type to let things fester, but with Bucky, every instinct she had seemed to falter. How did you confront someone who had mastered the art of retreating? Had she overstepped? Done something wrong? Every time she tried to bring it up -softly, carefully- he deflected with a grunt, a short answer, or a smile that never quite reached his eyes.

And every day, the distance between them widened.

-----

Bucky couldn’t pinpoint when things changed with her. At first, he appreciated how she treated him: no pity, no coddling, just simple, genuine conversations that made him feel, for once like a person, normal. For the first time in years, he found himself wanting to talk to someone besides Steve.

He welcomed it at first, the way her smile lingered a little longer when he mumbled a response, the warmth in her eyes during their shared moments. Their conversations became something he looked forward to, something he craved. But as the weeks passed, something else began to stir inside him. Something terrifying.

It wasn’t just gratitude for their growing friendship. No, this was deeper, more intense. Attraction. Wanting. And the more he felt it, the harder it became to face her.

Because every time he allowed himself to think about her, the guilt crashed over him like a wave he couldn’t outrun. She didn’t deserve the weight of his past or the darkness he carried. He had been the Winter Soldier for too long, a weapon of destruction in Hydra’s hands, leaving behind a long trail of pain and death. The faces of the people he’d hurt, and the trembling voices of those who had begged or screamed haunted him, etched into his mind like scars that would never fade.

And then there was the abuse, the kind he never spoke about. It wasn’t just physical; Hydra had taken everything from him: his freedom, his identity, his will. His body had been theirs to use, to break, to control. Late at night, he could still feel the ghost of their hands, the cold, clinical way they had stripped him of his humanity. The thought of it alone made him sick.

How could he even begin to think about her in that way? She was light and warmth, a reminder of all the good he no longer believed he deserved. And Bucky? He was a mess of scars, guilt, and trauma he hadn’t even begun to unpack.

So, he did what he always did when emotions threatened to overwhelm him: he shut them down. He stopped talking to her, stopped letting her get too close. It was easier to be cold and act indifferent than to deal with the storm of feelings inside him. It was better for her to think he didn’t care than to see how broken he really was.

-----

Things started to grow awkward -tense, even- during their group meetings before the missions. What once had been only indifference from Bucky turned into something sharper. It started with a sarcastic comment here or there, muttered under his breath, but loud enough for her to hear. She tried to brush it off at first, assuming he was just being moody as usual. But when it became a pattern, when his remarks grew more pointed, more dismissive, she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

He had started suggesting in front of everyone, that she didn’t have to participate in certain missions.

"Maybe sit this one out," Bucky had said during the last briefing, his tone flat, eyes avoiding hers as he leaned back in his chair. "We don't need anyone getting in the way."

Her eyes narrowed, the heat of anger rising in her chest. She wasn’t new to dangerous missions and wasn’t some kind of rookie that everyone had to look after. And Bucky knew that. They all did. She had a support role, yes, but she had been in the field countless times before, proving her worth more than once not only to them but also to SHIELD. To have him throw those words at her -especially in front of the team- was humiliating. Infuriating.

"You don’t get to decide that, Barnes," she shot back sharply. "I’ve done just fine without your input."

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained cool. "Yeah, because healing a few cuts and bruises is the same as being in the thick of it."

Her fists clenched at her sides. "You think that’s all I do? Patch people up? I’ve been in more firefights than you can count, Barnes, and I’m still standing."

"That’s not the point," he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest as he finally looked at her, with a hard expression. "I’m just saying, you’re better off hanging back. Let the people used to the danger to handle it."

Her eyes flared, fists clenching at her sides as she stepped forward. "Excuse me?! Used to the… I’ll show you danger, you-"

Before she could finish, Steve quickly stepped in, raising a hand to calm the rising tension. “Hey, hey, let’s all take a breath here,” he said firmly, trying to diffuse the situation. “We’ve got bigger things to focus on right now.”

A silent exchange passed between everyone present, but no one intervened. The air crackled with unspoken tension.

And this had become their new normal. Meetings had devolved into subtle jabs and snarky comebacks, with Bucky seemingly intent on pushing her buttons, while she fired back with increasingly sharp remarks. Each time he tried to brush her off or suggest she wasn’t needed, she fiercely stood her ground.

He couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t just about keeping her at arm’s length, it was fear. Fear of her getting hurt in the field, and, more than that, fear of how much he cared about the possibility. Every time she suited up for a mission, a painful knot twisted in his gut, one he couldn’t untangle no matter how hard he tried.

So, as a defense mechanism -more like a stubborn teenager than the grown man he was- he resorted to belittling her, hoping it would be enough to keep her out of harm’s way.

-----

Their sleeping quarters were close. Too close, sometimes.

One night, she was torn from sleep by the sound of muffled screams. Bucky. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard them, but tonight, they were louder, more desperate. She lay in bed for a long moment, listening to his struggle through the not-so-thin walls. She wanted to go back to sleep and tried to convince herself he’d eventually be fine. But the raw sound of his torment lingered in the mind, making it impossible for her to settle.

After an hour or so had passed, and although everything was silent now, she realized the sleep wasn’t going to come back. With a quiet sigh, she got up and padded down the hall to the kitchen. Maybe some tea -and a piece of the achtzig schlag she baked that afternoon, whom was she kidding- would help, as small comfort to chase away the unease from being waked like that.

But when she reached her destiny, she stopped short. Bucky was already there.

He stood by the sink, barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, his broad back greeting her as she entered. His metal hand gripped the edge of the counter, while the other hung limply at his side with an empty glass loosely grabbed between his fingers. His head was bowed and his shoulders tense, as if the weight of the world rested there. She couldn’t tell if he’d noticed her presence, she could see his face reflected on the glass of the big window, but his gaze was fixed blankly on the sink, lost in whatever hell his nightmares had dragged him through.

For a moment, she hesitated. He barely spoke to her anymore, and when he did, he was a complete ass. But standing there, in the dim light of the kitchen, he didn’t look like his usual self. He looked... more than broken. Vulnerable. The heavy rise and fall of his chest, the slight tremor in his fingers, told her he hadn’t escaped his nightmare, not entirely.

“Bucky,” she called softly, reverting to his nickname, the one she hadn’t used in weeks. He didn’t respond, didn’t even flinch. Just kept staring into the sink as though it might offer some kind of solace he desperately needed.

She stood there, debating if she should leave him alone, letting him find his own way out of whatever haunted him, or stay. Something in the way he stood there, utterly still, as if frozen in time, made her choose the second option. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her comfy cotton nightgown, and she stepped closer.

“Bucky,” she said again, a bit louder.

This time, his shoulders tensed, the only sign he’d heard her. Slowly, he turned his head, just enough to glance at her out of the corner of his eye. His face was a mask of exhaustion, and shadows were carved deep under his eyes. There was a flash of something in his expression, maybe surprise, maybe frustration, but it faded quickly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Bucky turned back to the sink, exhaling heavily as if it took effort to breathe. "You’re up late," he muttered hoarsely, breaking the silence. He didn’t look at her.

"So are you," she replied, keeping her tone light despite the tension in the air. She wasn’t sure what else to say. She wanted to ask if he was okay, but something told her he wouldn’t answer that. Instead, she moved to the stove, setting a kettle on to boil.

He remained silent, not moving from his spot. The awkwardness lingered between them, but she kept herself busy, preparing tea as if this was an everyday occurrence. Bucky stood there silently, while she pretended not to notice the storm brewing inside him.

She turned back to him as the kettle let out a soft whistle. “Want some?” she asked, holding two cups with a gentle smile. “I picked up a strawberry blend the other day. It’s really good.” The gesture was casual, the same as it had been just a couple of months ago, before everything started to shift.

For a long moment, there was no response. He stood there, staring into the sink as if he hadn’t heard her. Then, to her surprise, he gave a slight nod, the motion so subtle it almost wasn’t there. His eyes, still shadowed by whatever nightmares lingered from his sleep, flicked toward her but didn’t quite meet her gaze.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

She nodded, poured the tea, and placed one mug on the counter in front of him before leaning against it, cupping her own mug in her hands.

“Strawberry’s a weird choice for tea, right?” she asked, trying to keep things light. “I wasn’t sure about it at first, but it kinda grows on you. Tony said it smelled like candy.”

He didn’t answer, his eyes were fixed on the steaming cup in front of him, and his jaw was clenched tight. She smiled softly, hoping to ease the tension. “Steve liked it, too. He said it reminded him of-”

“Shut up.” His voice was low and sharp with frustration. “Just… shut up.” He whispered again.

The words hit her like a slap, and her smile faltered immediately. For a moment, she just stood there, unsure how to respond.

“Right,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze. “I’ll... leave you to it.”

She started to turn, deciding it was better to give him space, but before she could leave the kitchen, his voice stopped her.

“Wait.”

She paused, mid-step, and slowly turned back. Bucky wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the cup of tea, his expression tight, conflicted.

“I... I’m sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, a familiar gesture of discomfort, that this time it felt heavier. “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. You don’t deserve-”

He finally looked up, and his blue eyes were clouded with something raw. “I... had a nightmare,” he admitted, the words coming out slowly, as if they were too painful to say aloud. “One of the heavy ones.” His voice cracked on the last part, and for a moment, he seemed smaller, haunted.

She shifted slightly, watching the tension in his posture, on the way his fingers gripped the edge of the counter as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded. She hesitated, but the concern pushed her forward. “Do you... want to talk about it?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched instantly, the muscle twitching as his eyes flicked away from hers, focusing again on the cup of tea. His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she thought he might snap at her again. But instead, there was only silence. A heavy, suffocating silence that told her everything she needed to know.

The dream still clung to him. It wasn’t just a memory, it was something darker, something visceral. In the back of his mind, the flashback played like a twisted reel. He remembered the cold steel table beneath his back, the harsh, sterile lights overhead. The sensation of the reinforced restraints biting into his skin. Voices around him, detached and clinical, as faceless scientists in white coats discussed the "procedure." A sharp pain had torn through his body, worse than anything he had felt before, as they tested the limits of his tissue regeneration. They cut deeper with each slice, watching his flesh heal itself in real-time, timing the speed of recovery as though he was no more than a lab rat.

He could still hear the sound of the blade cutting through muscle and bone and the smell of the antiseptic mixing with the coppery tang of blood. No anesthesia, it wasn’t needed. Bucky’s grip tightened on the counter and she saw the way his whole body tensed, the flicker of torment in his eyes that he tried to hide behind his blank expression.

She took a small step forward. “It’s ok. You don’t have to talk about it,” she said softly, offering him an out without pushing him further.

She hesitated, lingering on the dark circles under his eyes, and the exhaustion that etched into every line of his face. He looked like a man fighting a battle he couldn’t win, worn down by nights that stretched too long and memories that wouldn’t fade. She bit her lip, debating, before taking another small step forward.

“I could help… if you want. With the nightmares.”

Bucky furrowed his brow, snapping his eyes to hers. He didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, she wondered if she’d pushed too far. The air between them grew heavier, thick with the weight of things left unsaid.

“I mean,” she added quickly, keeping her voice soft, “my powers... they don’t just work on physical injuries. I can soothe the mind too, if the person is willing. I could help you sleep.” Her words trailed off, unsure if this was what he wanted -or needed- to hear. She shifted slightly, glancing down before meeting his gaze again. “You look like you could use a break from it all, even if it’s just for a little while. You don’t have to keep carrying this alone.”

For a long moment, Bucky just stared at her. His posture was still tense, every muscle taut like he was bracing for an attack. She half-expected him to shut her down, to retreat behind that wall of silence and dismiss her with another biting comment. Instead, his expression softened ever so slightly, and the hardness in his eyes dimmed as he weighed her words. She saw the exhaustion behind the mask he always wore, the misery that had become his constant companion.

He swallowed hard, his voice rough and low when he finally spoke. “I don’t know if it’ll work,” he muttered. “Nothing’s worked before.”

Her heart clenched at his words, at the defeat in his tone. "We won’t know unless we try," she said softly, watching his reaction.Bucky’s jaw tensed, and for a moment, she thought he might refuse. But then, with a reluctant sigh, he muttered, “Fine.” The word was gruff, a reluctant concession more than agreement. He glanced at her from under his brow, his lips quirking into the faintest of smirks. "Just... don’t expect too much."

With that, he turned and led her toward his quarters.

Once the door was shut, she sat on the end of his double bed. "Alright. Lay down and rest your head on my thighs."

Bucky eyed her warily, tightening his jaw. He wasn’t used to this kind of vulnerability, this kind of intimacy. After a long moment, though, the exhaustion and lingering unease from the nightmare tugged at him too strongly. With a resigned sigh, he climbed onto the bed and lay on his side, hesitating briefly before resting his head on her thighs.

“There,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the soft fabric of her clothes. “Don’t think this means I’m letting my guard down completely.”

Despite his gruff tone, she could feel the weight of his weariness. His body was tense, but the warmth of her legs seemed to be doing its work already.

She began running her fingers gently through his hair. "That’s exactly what I need you to do," she whispered. "Don’t fight me, Bucky. Relax and let me take care of you."

He inhaled deeply, her scent filling his senses, calming him. The tension in his shoulders began to ebb away, though he stubbornly clung to a sliver of resistance. "I don’t need to be taken care of," he grumbled, even as his eyelids grew heavier.

“Whatever you say, hun,” she teased softly.

Bucky let out a low grunt, his eyes fluttering closed as her fingers traced soothing lines through his hair. The sensation sent calming waves through his body, unraveling his nerves one strand at a time. He didn’t have the energy to resist anymore, he was too drained from the nightmare, too tired of fighting his own mind.

"I’m not your hun..." There was a hint of amusement in his voice, despite himself. He buried his face deeper into her lap, inhaling her scent again. It was soothing, pulling him further from the chaos of his mind.

“Oh, shush,” she said, brushing the protest aside, still moving her fingers through his dark locks.

For once, Bucky complied. He fell silent, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat becoming the only sound in the room. The quiet, steady thump-thump echoed in his ears, an oddly comforting melody amidst the storm of his thoughts.

"Your heartbeat..." he murmured almost sleepy, "It’s kind of nice." The confession slipped out but for once, he didn’t regret it.

Her hand paused for a fraction of a second before resuming its gentle motion. “Oh? I’ve never heard that one before. Maybe because regular people can’t hear it without... closer contact.”

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Bucky’s lips at her remark, but he didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he allowed himself to lean into her touch, the soft strokes through his scalp lulling him into a state of calm he hadn’t felt in a long time. His hand drifted almost unconsciously to her thigh, tracing small circles over her skin.

She continued her gentle ministrations, pouring her power into the touch. Slowly, bit by bit, Bucky’s muscles softened, and the weight of his nightmares slipped away as her presence guided him somewhere safe. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to feel it. The calm. The peace. The quiet.

-----

After a while she sighed, exhausted from using her powers to push against the weight of his severe trauma. Now, she had to figure out how to leave without waking him. He was sleeping deeply, his mind finally at peace after months of restless nights. Yet, despite his slumber, he wasn’t entirely defenseless. His subconscious remained alert, picking up on the slightest changes around him.

As she carefully prepared to slip away, Bucky's eyes flickered open, revealing half-lidded blue irises clouded with drowsiness. Without a word, his hand reached out, as if instinctively sensing her intention to leave. His grip was light but firm, curling his fingers on her thigh with an unconscious possessiveness.

"Shhh," she whispered, wincing internally as she resumed running her fingers through his hair, hoping to soothe him back to sleep. She knew it was a lost battle; any attempt to leave would only rouse him further. Resigned, she reached for some unused pillows and cushions nearby, pulling them close as she reclined, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep while sitting up.

The rhythmic strokes of her fingers seemed to draw him back from the edge of wakefulness. Bucky nuzzled into her touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he settled back into a deep slumber. As she adjusted her position, using the pillows to support her back, he instinctively shifted with her, seeking out the warmth of her body. His arm wrapped loosely around her waist, pulling her closer as he mumbled incoherently in his sleep.

At some point, she fell asleep too, physically drained from using all her energy to ease his haunted mind. The last thing she remembered before succumbing to slumber was the weight of his head still resting on her lap, her hand gently tangled in his soft hair.

-----

Bucky stirred slightly in his sleep, brushing his nose against the soft fabric of her cotton nightie. Her scent filled the air around him, a mix of sweetness and warmth that seeped into his senses, pulling him deeper into the haze of his dreams. A low groan rumbled in his chest, reverberating through her thigh, dangerously close to her mound. His hand clenched reflexively, fingers digging into her leg without conscious thought.

In his dream state, his mind began to wander, unraveling the careful control he kept during his waking hours. Images of her flooded his thoughts, her curves, her laugh, the sense of safety she gave him. But beneath those tender, innocent thoughts stirred something he tried so hard to suppress: raw longing.

His breathing quickened as his subconscious registered the intimate contact, even as he remained lost in the depths of sleep. His hips twitched involuntarily, pressing his growing arousal into the mattress, seeking relief.

In his dream, she was there, waiting for him, glowing and inviting. He felt her softness under his hands, the curve of her waist beneath his fingers, and the way she melted into his touch. His lips brushed against her inner thighs, teasing, tasting, drawing out soft moans of pleasure that only made the fire inside him burn hotter.

In the real world, his hips twitched involuntarily, pressing against the mattress as his body sought relief. His chest heaved, and low, almost inaudible whimpers escaped his parted lips. Lost in the dream, he chased an elusive release, each shift and grind against the sheets a reflection of the ache deep within him.

And then, it all came crashing down.

Bucky’s eyes snapped open, blinking rapidly as his breath caught in his throat. Reality quickly surged forward, sweeping away the fantasy. The warm weight of her hand still rested gently on his head and her fingers tangled in his hair. She was peaceful, her chest rising and falling steadily, blissfully unaware of the storm he had just woken from.

His body went rigid and a flush crept up his neck, as the remnants of his dream lingered in his mind. Worse than that, was the sticky mess staining his underwear.

Fuck.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he extracted himself from her lap, careful not to disturb her. He rolled off the bed and landed heavily on his feet, moving stiffly with mortification. His hand instinctively moved to his groin, tugging his underwear slightly to reveal the copious evidence of his release. A low curse escaped his lips as he took in the sight, and shame heated his face. Without a second glance, he padded to the bathroom, humiliated.

Minutes later she stirred, feeling her legs lighter, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The memories of offering to soothe Bucky’s mind with her powers came back to her, along with the feeling of being trapped, unable to leave without waking him. But now, as she blinked and stretched, she realized he was gone. Her back and neck throbbed from the awkward position she had slept in, so she slowly got up from his bed and took the opportunity to return to her own room, crawling into her bed to continue sleeping, unaware of the events that transpired before she awoke.

Meanwhile, Bucky remained in the bathroom, leaning heavily against the sink. A storm of guilt, shame, and relief swirled inside him. Guilt for what had happened so close to her, shame at the explicit nature of his dream, and relief that he’d managed to sneak away without waking her. He buried his face in his hands, rubbing at his temples, trying to shake off the lingering echoes of the fantasy that had caught him off guard so thoroughly.

------

They didn’t cross paths during the day, except late in the afternoon when Tony handed Natasha some VIP invitations to a charity event for her and Y/n. Bucky was sitting across the room on the couch, but his enhanced hearing made it impossible not to overhear. Natasha has found it amusing to join in a bachelorette’s auction at the event and, naturally, she dragged the healer into it to help raise more funds.

When she entered the room, Bucky couldn’t help but steal glances at her and the vivid memories of his dream came rushing back. The black dress with a low neckline -and were those mesh stockings?- did nothing to dissipate the discomfort.

Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on him, manspreading on the couch looking unsurprisingly grumpy. She walked over and plopped down next to him, leaning in slightly. “Hey,” she greeted chirpily. “I didn’t see you all day. Did you rest after our session? Any nightmares?”

Bucky’s frown deepened as he took in her revealing dress, and his gaze lingered for a second too long before flicking up to meet hers. “Well I actually had a nightmare.” he barked bitterly, narrowing his eyes as he turned away again.

“Oh Bucky, really?” she asked, absentmindedly resting her hand on his arm. “You seemed fine when I fell asleep... I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.”

He let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Fine? No, I wasn’t fucking fine,” he snapped. His eyes drifted down to the swell of her breasts, barely contained by the thin material of her dress, reigniting the memories of his dream and sending another wave of heat through his body. He scoffed, turning his head to hide the flush creeping up his neck. “Maybe you thought you did something, but you didn't. It was a waste of my time,” he muttered under his breath.

She recoiled, and her heart stung at his words. She’d felt the connection, sensed the calm that had washed over him during their session. She truly believed she’d helped. His harsh tone caught her off guard, and the hurt was unmistakable in her voice as she stood up abruptly.

“Oh, I see. We’re on square one again, where you treat me like shit. You know what Bucky? I’m tired of this. I don't know what your problem is, but I don't care anymore. Go fuck yourself.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and stormed toward the private quarters area, leaving him there, sitting in stunned silence.

------

The time to go to the charity event had arrived, and she and Natasha were all dressed up with the final touches, ready to be auctioned off in the playful bachelor and bachelorette game.

Tony, ever the social butterfly, was already acting as the host, ironing out the final details of the evening’s festivities. Steve, the ever-reliable friend and gentleman, had offered to tag along to ensure everything stayed civil and vanilla. Sam showed up at the last minute, his trademark grin plastered on his face. He winked at her and Natasha, flirting playfully and joking about bidding himself.

She smiled at his lightheartedness, but her attention kept drifting toward the couch across the room where Bucky sat, even if he had started to act like an asshole again. He’d been silent since they exchanged those heated words, barely looking up from his spot. His broad frame seemed more hunched than usual as if the weight of the night ahead was pressing down on him.

Sam, ever the instigator, swaggered over to where Bucky sat, giving him a playful nudge. “What’s up, Tinman? You look like you're about to blow a fuse,” he teased, not missing the tightness in Bucky’s jaw.

He didn’t respond immediately, flicking his eyes briefly toward Sam before dropping back down. He was clearly in no mood for jokes, but Sam wasn’t one to back down that easily.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know about this,” he added, grinning. “I left you, like, four texts reminding you about the event. Figured you might want to leave the grumpy soldier routine behind for one night.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. “Yeah, I saw them,” he muttered under his breath. The truth was, the event had been gnawing at him all day. Seeing her walking in earlier, dressed to the nines, had stirred something deep and unsettling in him. Her sleek black dress with that low neckline, and those mesh stockings… he had barely been able to look at her without feeling a hot flush creep up his neck.

But it wasn’t just the sight of her that was bothering him. Something darker was creeping up from the edges of his memory, something happened a long time ago.

The room around him faded as a distant echo of laughter, sharp and malicious, filled his ears. He blinked, trying to shake it off, but the memories flooded back with unwanted details. He saw himself, chained and silent, paraded like an animal in front of an audience of Hydra’s elite. The “auction,” as they had called it, was a twisted form of entertainment where the highest bidder won him for the night. They'd done whatever they wanted to him. Their hands were rough and unforgiving, their words venomous. He’d been stripped of everything, even the ability to fight back. His mind replayed the worst moments, the feeling of hands on him, unwanted touches, and the physical pain when they decided to test his limits. Bucky remembered the smirks on their faces as they violated him in every way they saw fit, knowing he was powerless to retaliate. His body might heal, but his mind was left in tatters every time. He could still hear their voices, cruel and mocking, as they reminded him how easy it was to break him down, to own him.

Suddenly, he was back on the couch, his hands clenched into tight fists as his breathing quickened. His heart pounded in his chest, and he had to swallow down the bile rising in his throat. The memory of his dream from the night before twisted with these recollections, blurring the line between the past and present. Bucky had felt trapped then, just like he felt trapped now. And the thought of her being up there, in front of all those people, being "bought" for the night just for fun triggered him.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain still. It was irrational, he knew that. But the line between the past and the present blurred too easily for him sometimes, and the fear -no, the shame- of what he had endured at Hydra’s hands refused to let him breathe freely.

Sam smirked, unfazed by Bucky’s short response. “Don’t sweat it, man. You can just sit back and watch me win a date with one of these fine ladies tonight. I’m feeling lucky.” He flashed an exaggerated wink at the women, earning a raised eyebrow from Nat in return.

Tony clapped his hands, signaling that it was time to start heading out. As everyone began moving, Bucky remained glued to his spot on the couch.

Completely oblivious to the turmoil inside Bucky’s head, Sam leaned casually against the back of the couch, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he tried to coax his friend into joining them at the event. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, clearly seeing the tension but refusing to let Bucky sit it out. “What, you’re scared you can’t handle a little charity event?” he taunted, his tone light but with just enough edge to poke at Bucky’s pride. “Steve’s already going, and you know how much he loves playing the perfect gentleman. You really gonna let him be the only one representing the ‘old-timer squad’?” He smirked, knowing this tactic might work. “Thought you were tougher than that.”

Bucky huffed as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had to get over this shit, Sam won’t leave him alone, and… fuck, he had to man up. “Fine,” he muttered under his breath, his voice was barely audible but enough for Sam to catch the reluctant agreement. “But don’t expect me to enjoy this.”

-----

The limo was packed, the air inside was thick with anticipation and, in Bucky’s case, a simmering sense of discomfort. She was squeezed up against the side of the car, her body brushing against his, while Sam sat across from them, legs casually sprawled out, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Well, look at us,” Sam said, stretching his arms out theatrically. “All dressed up for a fancy night out. Bucky, you clean up pretty well for a guy who spends most of his time brooding in corners.”

Bucky shot him a glare but didn’t bother to respond, focusing on keeping his breathing steady as her leg pressed against his. She had no idea how much that little contact was messing with his already frayed nerves. The warmth of her body beside him felt too familiar after what happened last night. He shifted slightly, trying to create some space, but it was impossible in the cramped space.

“Aw, come on, Buck,” Sam continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Don’t tell me you’re still sulking about coming along. I mean, it’s for charity, man. And if anyone here knows how to be charitable, it’s you.” His grin widened as he leaned forward. “Especially when it comes to these two fine ladies.”

Steve, who sat beside Sam, chuckled, shaking his head as he turned his attention to them. “He’s right, though,” Steve said warmly. “You both are amazing women, but tonight you’re especially lovely.”

She blushed under Steve’s compliment, offering a playful smile in return. “Thanks, Stevie. But really, all credit goes to Nat here for dragging me into this.”

Natasha smirked, lounging next to Bucky in a striking red dress. “You’ll thank me later when we clean house in that bachelorette’s auction.”

Bucky, meanwhile, was doing his best to avoid looking directly at her. The black dress was more than enough to set him on edge, the low neckline and mesh stockings flashing in his peripheral vision like a neon sign, reminding him of the dream that wouldn’t leave him alone. He clenched his jaw and stared out the window, trying to focus on the passing streetlights instead.

“You good back there, man?” Sam teased again, noticing his tense posture. “You look like you’re about to crack a tooth.” he leaned back, crossing his arms with a cocky grin plastered across his face.

Bucky clenched his jaw harder and flexed his metal fingers, the soft whir of gears barely audible over Sam’s incessant teasing. “Keep talking, Sam,” he muttered in warning. See where that gets you.”

Sam wasn’t letting up. “Oh, come on. I’ve seen that look before. That’s the ‘I’ve got feelings but don’t know what to do with them’ look.” His grin widened, clearly enjoying how riled up Bucky was getting. “You worried someone’s gonna outbid you tonight?” he teased, relishing the tension. “Not that you could, you know, since you didn’t even sign up to participate.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, the muscle in his jaw twitching. He shot Sam a dangerous look but swallowed the sharp retort burning at the back of his throat. Sam had no idea how close to the truth he was coming, and the last thing Bucky wanted was for anyone -especially her- to figure it out.

She caught Sam’s teasing and frowned, flicking her gaze toward Bucky. She couldn’t miss how his whole body had gone rigid like he was just one wrong word away from snapping. Then it hit her. Considering the way he had been treating her -distant and cold like she barely existed- the only plausible explanation for Sam’s comments... Was he into Nat?

The thought dug deeper than she expected, feeling a sharp pang in her chest that she couldn’t ignore. She tried to brush it off, but it nagged her. She hesitated, sinking her teeth into her lower lip before leaning in slightly. Her voice came out edged with reluctant empathy. “Don’t mind him,” she muttered, only for Bucky’s ears. “I’m sure Nat will be fine.”

Bucky’s head snapped to her, surprise flashing in his eyes before quickly turning into something darker, stormier. She had no idea what was going on in his head, and the fact that she thought all this was about Natasha hit him like a sucker punch to the gut.

“That’s not-” He stopped himself. There was no point in trying to explain, not here, not now, and certainly not with Sam hanging on every word. He let out a slow breath “Just drop it, okay?” he answered gruffly.

She blinked, startled by the rawness in his tone. If he wanted to be difficult, she could meet him halfway. “Fine,” she replied coolly. “Not like it’s any of my business anyway.” She leaned back, crossing her arms as if to physically distance herself, her eyes focusing on the passing city through the window.

Sam, sensing the tension in the air, raised his eyebrows but -for once- chose not to stir the pot further. He shot a questioning glance at Steve as if wordlessly asking, What’s going on here?

Steve caught Sam’s look and responded with a subtle shake of his head, his lips pressed into a thin, knowing line. His gaze flicked between Bucky and her, then back to Sam, silently conveying the message: Don’t push it. There was understanding in Steve’s eyes, whatever was going on with Bucky ran deeper than just nerves or irritation. His expression was clear: Give him space.

-----

Finally, the limo of awkwardness reached its destination, pulling up to the entrance of the lavish event. The tension inside was palpable, and everyone seemed eager to escape the cramped space. As soon as the doors opened, there was a collective sigh of relief as they stepped out into the open.

She practically bolted out of the car, and Natasha followed her with a smirk, clearly more amused than bothered by the tense ride. “Bathroom break?” she suggested, raising an eyebrow to her, who nodded gratefully. Together, they made their way toward the entrance, heels clicking softly on the pavement as they prepared to retouch their makeup and shake off the tension.

Meanwhile, the guys lagged, hanging around the entrance for a moment before stepping into the crowd of finely dressed people. The venue was swarming with posh elites, champagne flutes in hand, chatting in clusters that screamed wealth and sophistication. Bucky stuffed his hands into his pockets with stiff shoulders as he surveyed the sea of unfamiliar faces, feeling out of place and more than a little on edge.

Sam, ever the social butterfly, immediately started mingling, flashing his charming smile at a passing couple. "Nice place," he muttered to Steve, grabbing a champagne flute from a passing waiter. "Think Tony outdid himself this time?"

Steve gave a small nod, scanning the room for any sign of trouble, though it was more habit than genuine concern. “Yeah, it’s impressive,” he replied, though his attention drifted toward Bucky, who had slowly gravitated to the crowd's edge, looking like he’d rather be elsewhere.

“Don’t disappear.” Sam called out, clapping him on the shoulder as he joined Steve in surveying the room. His grin was teasing, but light-hearted enough to let the tension from the limo ride dissipate.

Bucky just rolled his eyes, staying quiet but sticking close to the group as they moved into the crowd. He wasn’t in the mood for mingling, but he’d already made it this far.

The event officially kicked off with Tony taking the stage, with his usual confident grin plastered across his face. He grabbed the microphone and began his speech with his typical charm. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to an evening of generosity, glamour, and, let’s be honest, some good old-fashioned fun,” he announced, flashing a playful smirk. “Tonight’s about raising money for a great cause, but it wouldn’t be a true Stark event without a bit of spice, right?” The crowd chuckled, their champagne glasses shimmering under the soft lighting as they eagerly awaited the night’s entertainment.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Y/n emerged from the bathroom, looking radiant and refreshed. As they walked back toward the main hall, Tony’s voice echoed across the room. “And now, for the part you’ve all been waiting for: our very own bachelor auction! The first of the two events we have tonight! Get your wallets out and let’s start bidding, people! Remember, it’s for charity, but hey, you get to take home a prize for the night too,” he said with a wink, his tone playful but persuasive.

Nat looked at them, unimpressed. “I don’t know why the guys didn’t want to join, they would’ve wiped all wallets with only a wink”.

The stage lit up, and the male candidates for the auction stepped forward, each one more enthusiastic than the last. Tony, never one to miss a chance to stir up excitement, started hyping them up. “Look at these guys! We've got muscles, brains, and a whole lot of… charisma.” He pointed to one of the bachelors. “Ladies, I hear this one’s an excellent conversationalist... and check out those thighs! Perfect for sitting on, am I right?” The crowd erupted into laughter, but there was already a buzz as bids began flying.

She had been chuckling softly at Tony’s ridiculous commentary when she caught a glimpse of Bucky out of the corner of her eye. Something was off. He was standing rigidly, his jaw set in a hard line, and his gaze was locked onto the stage but somehow distant, as if he wasn’t there. His seemed pale, drawn tight in a way that made her stomach twist with concern.

As he stood there with his arms crossed, a sudden wave of nausea hit him. It started with the sound of Tony's playful words, the laughter in the crowd, and the sight of the men being paraded in front of eager eyes. All of it melted together into something darker, something far too familiar.

Without warning, his mind transported him again back to the past. The dim, suffocating atmosphere of one of the sickening Hydra parties. He could feel the cold bite of chains against his skin, the way they had displayed him like an object, barely clothed, barely human. He had been the prize, the thing to be won, over and over again, with leering eyes and depraved hands deciding his fate. The room around him started to warp, blurring as his vision tunneled. His heart rate spiked, and his breath quickened, chest tightening painfully.

Bucky’s grip on his own arms grew stronger, his metal fingers pressing into the flesh of his opposite arm so hard that he was bruising the enhanced skin. He tried to remind himself where he was, tried to tell himself that this was different. But the flood of memories was relentless, dragging him down into the depths of his trauma.

He could feel it, the sensation of being used, of having no agency. The faces of those who had taken pleasure in his pain flashed before his eyes. His breath came in short, ragged gasps and his body started trembling. Sweat prickled along his brow as his surroundings closed in on him, the chatter and laughter of the event fading into a distant, haunting echo.

Suddenly, the present broke through just enough for Bucky to realize he couldn’t breathe. Panic was closing in on him like a vice, squeezing tighter and tighter. The telltale signs of an impending panic attack flared: his heart hammered in his chest, and the room seemed to spin out of control.

He pushed himself off the column. His movements were sharp, almost desperate, as he weaved through the crowd like a wounded animal seeking refuge. His breath was shallow as his steps quickened. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to escape the noise, the eyes, the memories. The room was suffocating, and every second spent in it felt like another piece of his soul was being ripped away. He made a break for the exit, his jaw was clenched so tight that his teeth hurt, but his mind focused on one thing: getting the fuck out.

Before she could fully register it, she saw him push off the column. His normally composed demeanor was nowhere to be found. Bucky’s face was contorted, and the shallow, rapid rise and fall of his chest gave him away. He was unraveling, right there in front of everyone.

Her own breath hitched as she watched him cut through the crowd with increasing urgency. His retreat was too quick, too desperate, and she felt a sudden, overwhelming tug of alarm.

Something was wrong, really wrong.

Without thinking, she stepped away from Natasha, focusing on the exit he had disappeared through. Her anger faded into the background, replaced by an unshakable need to make sure he was okay. There was something in the way he had bolted, something haunted. She speeded up, her heels clicking loudly against the floor as she headed toward the doors, scanning the surroundings, hoping she could find him before he disappeared completely. Maybe it was instinct or something else entirely, but she couldn’t let him go through whatever it was alone, not again.

Eventually, she pushed through the heavy ballroom doors, leaving the noise of laughter and clinking glasses behind her as she stepped into the quiet night air. The sudden shift in the atmosphere was jarring, the lively event inside faded into a dull hum, barely audible as she found herself standing in a meticulously manicured topiary garden. Tall, artfully shaped hedges loomed around her, casting long shadows under the moonlight, the only light coming from lanterns lining the stone pathway. She quickened her pace, rounding one hedge and then another, hoping to glimpse him. But the garden stretched on, and after a few minutes of searching, her stomach sank. Was he gone?

She bit her lip, frustrated and worried as she stood still for a moment, closing her eyes to listen, trying to tune in any sound beyond the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant murmur from the party. Nothing. The garden felt too large, too quiet. She sighed and started retreating inside when a movement caught her eye.

Just off to the side, almost hidden beneath the shadow of a thick, overgrown bush, she spotted a dark shape. Her heart stuttered as she stepped closer, the form coming into view. There, huddled in the dirt, with his back pressed against the stone wall, was Bucky. He looked utterly wrecked.

His blue suit was smeared with the mud formed in the recently watered soil, as though he’d been sitting there for a while. His hair, previously pulled back neatly into a bun, was disheveled, with loose strands clinging to his forehead and others tangled and tugged free as if he'd been pulling at it in desperation. His hands were fisted in the damp earth by his sides, and his shoulders were slumped in defeat. He didn’t move as she approached, didn’t even acknowledge her presence. It was as if he had retreated into himself, blending in with the shadows like he wanted to disappear entirely.

Her breath caught. If there were remnants of her initial anger, they melted away entirely now. What was left in its place was pure concern. She had never seen him like this, so broken, so raw.

“Bucky?” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she knelt, hesitating just a foot away. He didn’t respond, his eyes were fixed on the ground, and his breaths kept coming in shallow, uneven bursts. Her heart clenched. He was hiding not just physically, but emotionally too. He retreated into that dark place, one she had seen before, but never like this.

“Hey…” she tried again, with a gentle tone, trying to reach him through the fog of whatever nightmare gripping at him. “Bucky, it’s me.”

For a moment, he did nothing. He remained hunched, with his knuckles white from where his fists were clenched in the mud. But then, slowly, he blinked, and his gaze shifted ever so slightly toward her. The look in his eyes was a mixture of panic and shame, as though he didn’t want her to see him like this.

“It’s… I’m fine,” he croaked, though his voice betrayed the lie. He wasn’t fine. He was far from it.

She inched closer, hovering uncertainly, wanting to reach out but unsure if he’d pull away. “You’re not,” she said softly, locking her eyes on his. “You’re not fine, Bucky.”

He swallowed hard, his throat worked against the emotion he was trying to keep down. “Just… leave me alone, please,” he muttered, his voice thick with strain, like it took all of his strength to form the words. “I don’t… I can’t-” His breath hitched, and he turned his head away, curling inward even more as if trying to shield himself from her gaze.

Her heart ached. She couldn’t leave him here, sitting in the dirt, drowning in whatever demons had resurfaced tonight.

Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers lightly brushing against his hand. He flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. Encouraged by the slight opening, she gently took his hand in hers, squeezing just enough to ground him.

“I know maybe I’m not the number one person you want to be with right now, but I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, her voice firm but soft.

Bucky’s breath hitched, and his fingers twitched in her grip. He looked down at their joined hands as if struggling to process the kindness in her touch. He didn’t speak, but the tension in his shoulders slowly began to loosen, the rigid line of his back slightly relaxing.

She stayed quiet, giving him the space to come back from whatever dark place his mind had taken him to. The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She could feel the weight of his unspoken turmoil pressing down on them both, but she didn’t let go, even when the minutes dragged on.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Bucky let out a ragged breath. His voice, when it came, was low and hoarse. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”

Her lips pressed together. She could hear the self-loathing in his tone, the way he seemed to think he was a burden, something she shouldn’t have to deal with. “I couldn’t just leave you like that,” she said gently. “Not when I knew you were hurting.”

He winced at the word, like it physically pained him to admit that she was right. “You don’t understand,” he muttered, his eyes darting away, staring blankly at the ground.

“I don’t have to,” she countered, tightening her grip on his hand, as a quiet reassurance. “You don’t need to explain anything. I just…” She hesitated, then sighed softly. “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re alone. Because you’re not.”

Bucky’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, clearly fighting some internal battle. The vulnerability in his eyes was stark, a raw edge she wasn’t used to seeing in him. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

She frowned. “You don’t get to decide what you deserve, Bucky. Not when you have people who care about you.” Her tone softened as she met his gaze. “And I care about you. So, I’m here. Whether you like it or not.” Without waiting for him to respond, she lowered herself onto the dirt beside him, her dress immediately catching the mud, smearing across the delicate fabric, and her legs. Little branches snagged at her hairdo, but she didn’t care.

Bucky clenched his jaw at her words. After all the terrible things he'd done, he didn’t deserve her -her kindness, her care. How could anyone care for him after what he’d been made to do? But what mortified him more was how he’d been with her recently, pushing her away, when he knew his feelings for her were growing too strong to handle. He had been cold, cruel even, thinking it would be easier to keep his distance.

But here she was, not giving up on him. He felt his chest tighten with a tangle of guilt and longing. He didn’t deserve this.

And yet, he couldn’t deny the comfort her presence brought him. Slowly, he felt his body ease, his rigid frame relaxing slowly as her warmth seeped into him. His shoulder brushed hers, hesitantly at first, then stayed. This time, he didn’t fight it. He didn’t want to.

The warmth of her body and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, all felt soothing. He let himself be pulled into the comfort she offered, no longer caring if his attraction to her showed. It wasn’t like he could hide it now, or cared, anyway.

His trembling fingers, rough and scarred, brushed against her leg, just a light, accidental touch, but enough to send a shiver up his spine. He wasn’t sure if she noticed, but he did. And this time, he didn’t retreat.

Bucky’s breathing slowed and deepened, and his chest started to rise and fall in sync with hers. His head dipped slightly, not quite resting on her shoulder, but close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body. His fingers shifted again, this time curling just slightly around her thigh. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement, but it felt monumental to him. For once, he wasn’t recoiling, wasn’t hiding behind walls of shame and guilt. He was just… there, with her, feeling what he felt, even if he couldn’t say it out loud.

He glanced up at her again, and his blue eyes met hers. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t look away. His gaze lingered, searching for something, understanding, acceptance, maybe even something more. And what he found there, in her eyes, was enough to make the knot in his chest loosen just a little bit more.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t push him. And in that silence, in the simple act of being there for him, Bucky felt something shift inside him. Without thinking, he let out a soft sigh, as his body shifted again, and he finally dipped his head to rest it lightly on her thighs. The movement was tentative as if he were bracing for her to pull away, to break the fragile moment. But she didn’t flinch. She didn’t move. She stayed right there, solid and steady, grounding him once again.

When he fully rested his head, her fingers found his hair almost instinctively, gently threading through his disheveled locks. The touch was soft, soothing, and familiar, much like the night before when she had used her healing powers to ease his nightmares. But this time, she didn’t channel any of her energy into him, at least, not yet.

For a few minutes, she simply caressed his hair, her fingertips brushing lightly against his scalp, tracing calming patterns. Bucky’s tense muscles began to relax further, and his body sank into the comfort of her touch. It was grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

After a while, her fingers paused in his hair. Her voice was soft, hesitant but caring as she asked, “Do you want me to…?” There was no pressure in her words, only a quiet offer, giving him the choice.

Bucky was silent for a long moment, his body still against her, but the tension returned to his shoulders, subtle but unmistakable. He knew what she meant, what she could do for him if he let her. He shook his head once, slowly, almost reluctantly. “No,” he whispered, “I… I need to feel this,” he added, his voice rough but steady. “I can’t run from it every time.” It was difficult to say, but he meant it. Then, she let her hand continue to stroke his hair softly, offering comfort in the simplest way possible. She respected his decision, knowing how much strength it took for him to face these demons on his own terms. “I’m still here,” she whispered, while her touch never faltered. “If you ever need me.”

Bucky didn’t respond with words, but he relaxed against her once again, his body yielding to the quiet, unspoken understanding between them. Even without her powers, the weight of her presence was enough for him to hold on.

-----

Eventually, the quiet that had settled between them started to fade, replaced by the creeping awareness that they couldn’t stay huddled in the garden forever. The world beyond their little bubble -the event, the people, the expectations- slowly edged its way back into their consciousness.

She shifted slightly, pausing her fingers in Bucky’s hair as she glanced around. The faint buzz of the distant crowd could still be heard from the ballroom, and the glow of lights from the building cast long shadows across the topiary.

“We should… probably get out of here,” she whispered reluctantly, breaking the comforting silence.

Bucky didn’t move immediately. His head still rested on her lap, as if he could will the world away for just a little longer. But eventually, with a low sigh, he pushed himself up, raking a hand through his tousled hair. “Yeah. We can’t… be seen like this,” he muttered, gazing at the mud-streaked ruins of his suit.

She glanced down at herself and grimaced. “I look like I’ve been rolling around in the dirt with you,” she teased softly, brushing at her dress, though the stubborn stains refused to budge.

The topiary garden felt worlds away from the glittering ballroom, but their predicament remained clear: how were they going to make it back to the compound without being seen? They exchanged a glance, an unspoken acknowledgment of the absurdity of it all, just as the crunch of footsteps on gravel reached their ears.

They barely had time to react before Sam appeared from behind a meticulously trimmed hedge, coming to an abrupt stop in his tracks when he saw them. His eyes widened, taking in the sight of both of them covered in dirt, hair wild with sticks on it, and rumpled clothes. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, leaning against the nearby wall as his smirk grew wider by the second. “Well, well, well,” he drawled out, clearly enjoying the scene. “Looks like somebody took ‘blending in’ a little too seriously.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Honestly, I don't even wanna know what y’all were up to, but good luck explaining that to the rest of the team.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but Sam held up a hand. “Nope, no explanations needed. You two look guilty enough as it is.” He winked and gestured behind him. “But seriously, you might wanna get out before Steve or Nat see you. Unless you wanna be the talk for the next month in the compound.”

Bucky cursed in frustration, rerunning a hand through his already messed up hair, making it even worse. Beside him, she winced internally, knowing they looked like a pair of absolute messes.

“Sam, got any ideas for getting us out of here discreetly?” she asked with a groan.

Sam didn’t miss a beat, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Discretion? Yeah… you two in the bushes covered in dirt totally screams discretion.” His grin widened as he glanced between them. “But sure, I can help. Just let me figure out how to sneak out two people who look like they’ve been rolling around in the mud like… well, you know, two horny teenagers.”

She felt her face heating as she shot a horrified look at Sam. “No, that’s not-” she started, but his laughter cut her off.

“Oh, c’mon, I’m just messing with you,” he said, winking at her. “But seriously, you two need to work on your subtlety if you’re gonna sneak off for some ‘alone time.’”

If looks could kill, Sam would’ve been obliterated on the spot by Bucky’s death glare. His fists clenched at his sides, and his voice was a dangerous growl. “Shut it, Wilson. Unless you wanna be the next thing that ends up in the bushes.”

Sam just raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Alright, alright! Chill, Tinman. I’m just saying, you gotta work on your cover story for when you walk back in looking like that.”

She wanted to disappear into the ground, mortified. But Sam, as always, had an answer. “Tell you what,” he said, slapping Bucky on the back. “I’ll create a distraction. You two sneak around the back, and I’ll make sure no one’s looking when you head out.” he shook his head, clearly relishing the moment. "But I gotta say, this is one hell of a way to ditch a party," he quipped, waggling his eyebrows mischievously. "mud wrestling, hm?"

She groaned, burying her face in her hands while Bucky shot him a withering glare, muttering another string of curses under his breath.

“Next time, let’s stick to indoor adventures, shall we? He added, flashing a grin. Before either of them could respond, Sam turned on his heel. "I'll think of something," he called over his shoulder, already planning his grand distraction.

------

The night was still and the distant hum of the city was barely audible as Bucky and her walked along the deserted road. The event had been settled on the outskirts, far enough from the city that they had no choice but to hoof it for a while. Neither of them had spoken since Sam’s grand distraction allowed them to slip out unnoticed, both too absorbed in their own thoughts.

He walked a few steps ahead, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, hunching his shoulders as if trying to make himself smaller.

The silence stretched on, heavy but not uncomfortable. Eventually, she huffed softly, the heels she’d stubbornly kept on finally becoming too much. Without a word, she stopped, bending to slip them off. "God, that’s better," she muttered, dangling the shoes by their straps before picking up the pace again to catch up with Bucky.

His gaze focused on her for a moment -disheveled, dirty, barefooted-. She was a mess, and the tension in his chest twisted painfully, and the guilt crept into his mind again, not only because of how he had treated her but also from what transpired that night.

Without saying a word, he shrugged off his suit jacket and gently placed it around her shoulders. Her skimpy dress had been fine for the party but wasn’t doing much to protect her now.

She looked up at him, with a flicker of surprise in her eyes, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she accepted the jacket, sliding her arms into the oversized sleeves. The fabric was heavy, enveloping her in warmth, the sleeves hung so long that only the tips of her fingers peeked out. As she adjusted the jacket, she took in his scent, subtle notes of cedar and leather. It was distinctly Bucky, and she liked it.

“It’s warm... thanks,” she murmured. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but enjoy the comfort of his presence wrapped around her, even if only through the fabric of his jacket.

He kept his gaze straight ahead. After a beat, finally, he broke the silence. “I’m sorry you missed the event because of me,” he said softly.

Her steps faltered slightly, tightening her fingers around the sleeves. She hesitated before speaking, biting her lip as a bitter truth spilled out. “I’m sorry I’m not Natasha.” Bucky’s head whipped toward her, and for a moment, his guard slipped. She shook her head, exhaling sharply. “I should’ve sent her after you, instead of following you myself.”

Bucky frowned. That was the second time she brought up Nat. “Where did you even get that idea?”

She sighed, as her insecurities pushed her to finally explain. “Well, because of what Sam said on the limo. About you being all grumpy because you couldn’t bid in the auction.” She hesitated, and her voice wavered slightly. “I thought he meant... you wanted to bid on Natasha.”

Bucky cursed under his breath, with barely contained frustration. “Why the hell would you think that?”

She quirked a brow, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “What else was I supposed to think? You’ve been treating me like the plague, Bucky. Like you couldn’t stand to be around me.” She uncrossed her arms and ran a hand up and down through the strap of her dress, exhaling in frustration. “And then, when Sam made that joke, it just… fit, you know? it was obvious he was talking about Nat.” She glanced away, as if admitting it aloud somehow made her feel even smaller.

Bucky’s tensed his jaw, and a storm brewed behind his eyes as he stepped closer to her. “That’s not what’s going on. Not even close.”

“Then what is going on?” Her voice wavered as her hand fell to her side.

His hands clenched and unclenched, wrestling with the words he’d buried for so long. Fuck it. "It’s not Natasha," he said finally. "It’s you. It’s always been you."

She blinked, caught off guard. “Me?” The word came out barely above a whisper, soft and disbelieving. Her heart raced, pounding so loud she was sure he heard it.

Bucky’s gaze held hers, full of rawness as if saying the words had cost him more than he wanted to admit. "Yeah, you," he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration. "Why do you think I’ve been avoiding you? I… I didn’t know how to deal with it."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first, her heart still pounding hard as she tried to find her voice. “Honestly? From where I’m standing, I kind of thought you couldn’t stand me with the way you’ve been acting.”

Then, deciding she’d had enough of this back-and-forth, she gathered her courage. "Would it help," she began in a softer and more vulnerable tone "if I told you I like you too?"

Bucky froze. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. His eyes flickered with a mix of emotions; hope, fear, and something close to desperation.

“I...” He dragged a hand over his face. “I don’t know how to answer that.” He paused, dropping his gaze to the ground before slowly lifting back to meet hers. “Part of me wants to tell you that’s what I’ve wanted to hear... for so damn long. But the other part...” His fists clenched at his sides. “I’ve got so much... so much shit I haven’t even begun to unpack. And I don’t wanna drag you into it. I’m damaged goods, and you deserve better than I can give. Shit, probably the only thing I can do right now is only take.

She stayed quiet for a moment, watching him wrestle with his emotions. Then she shook her head. “I’m a grown woman, Bucky, and I’m very capable of making my own decisions. I’ve decided... I want to give us a try if you are ok with that.”

His expression shifted as he stared at her, “I don’t know how to do this.” he whispered. His heart was pounding, torn between fear and longing. He hesitantly hovered his dirty hand between them, and when she reached out and took it, the tension in his chest eased. “I can’t promise… I’ll be easy to deal with,” he added, so low his voice was barely audible.

“I’m not asking for easy, Buck,” she replied, gently squeezing his hand. “I’m asking for you.”

Something shifted in his chest. He felt the weight of all his fears and doubts, but her touch made it seem lighter somehow, like maybe he wasn’t as broken as he thought. Slowly, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it reached his eyes, softening the lines of exhaustion and pain that usually darkened his features. “Okay, let’s…” he murmured. He stepped closer, narrowing the gap between them, locking his eyes on hers. Her hand was still in his, warm, grounding and suddenly, without thinking -no more doubts, no more hesitation- he decided to man up.

In one swift, unguarded moment, he leaned in. His vibranium hand cupped the side of her face, brushing her cheek as he tilted her chin up. He paused just a heartbeat, his breath mingling with hers, before closing the distance. His lips found hers, soft but insistent, a kiss that spoke of everything he’d been too afraid to say. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was something deeper, something that tasted of hope, of taking a chance.

When they finally parted, his forehead came to rest gently against hers, their breaths still mingling in the cool night air. Neither of them spoke, the silence was more comforting than any words could be. His thumb absentmindedly brushed her cheek, and she leaned against his caress.

For a while, they just stood there, forehead to forehead, until Bucky felt her body tremble slightly against him. He frowned, realizing that despite his jacket draped over her shoulders, they were still out on a desolate road in the middle of the night, and she was dressed for a gala, not a walk through the cold. “You’re freezing,” he muttered, glancing down at her bare feet and legs showing under the hem of his suit.

“Nah, I’m fine,” she started, but her teeth chattered slightly, betraying her words.

Bucky raised a brow, unconvinced. “Come on, climb on my back,” he said, turning around and squatting slightly as if to make it easier for her.

“What?” she blinked, shaking her head. “No way, I can walk.”

He shot her an exasperated look. “I’m not asking, doll. It’s cold, and you’re barefoot. Besides,” he added with a teasing smirk, “I could probably run five miles with you on my back without breaking a sweat.”

She let out a reluctant laugh, still feeling self-conscious. “I don’t know, Bucky…”

“Seriously? I can bench-press a car, and you’re worried about a piggyback ride?” His grin widened, confidence oozing from his voice. “Come on, let me show off a little, after all the crap I put you through."

She hesitated but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, fine,” she sighed, giving in. “But if you drop me…”

“I won’t,” he cut in with a grin, glancing back at her over his shoulder. “Scout’s honor.”

With a roll of her eyes, she finally climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as his hands gripped her legs effortlessly. His warmth surrounded her instantly, and as she rested her chin on his shoulder, she felt her tension slowly melting away. Then a thought hit her, and she glanced down at her muddy legs. “Your shirt…” she muttered, a little hesitant. “It’s going to be a mess.”

Bucky didn’t even slow down, letting out a low chuckle, and his voice was a deep rumble she felt against her chest. “You think I care about the shirt?” He glanced over his shoulder, with mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Your thighs are around my waist. Pretty sure I’ve got more important things to think about.” She couldn’t help but blush at his cheeky remark and hid her face on his nape.

As they walked, Bucky’s steps slowed faintly, his gaze was fixed on the path ahead, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. “You really sure about this?” he asked softly. “Sitting in the mud with me while I’m falling apart… that’s not the kind of life I want for you.”

She rested her chin on his shoulder again, tightening her arms slightly around him. “I stood with you in the mud because I wanted to. No one forced me. And if that’s part of being with you, then I’ll deal with it. I’m not afraid of your mess.”

Bucky stayed silent momentarily, letting her words sink into his mind. His heart clenched, torn between the comfort of her closeness and the nagging doubt that never fully left him. “You say that now,” he muttered, “But it’s not always gonna be just mud. There’s… stuff I don’t even know how to talk about.”

She tightened her arms around him, brushing her lips against his ear. “Then don’t talk about it yet,” she replied softly. “Just... let me be here. Let me decide what I can handle.”

His throat tightened. The weight of her words felt both heavy and freeing, a strange contradiction he wasn’t sure how to process. “I’ve spent so long trying to push people away,” he admitted, “I don’t even know how to let someone in anymore.”

Her lips curved into a small, soft smile against his neck. “Good thing you’ve got time to figure it out, Buck. I’m not in a hurry.”

The path ahead was uncertain, messy, and strewn with shadows, but for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt that maybe he didn’t have to walk it alone.

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

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blackcatner00 · 25 days ago

Text

My new list for the dark

Biker Bucky Barnes x abused reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Dark alpha Steve Rogers x dark alpha Bucky Barnes x dark alpha Tony stark x omega reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Dark professor Steve Rogers x innocent reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Soft dark Stucky x reader

Part 1

Part2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Dark professor Tony Stark x shy reader

Part 1

Dark shifter Bucky Barnes x shifter reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Dark mafia Bucky Barnes x reader

Part 1

Part 2

Mob boss Steve Rogers x innocent reader

Part 1

Part 2

591 notes · View notes

blackcatner00 · 25 days ago

Text

heartless

Incubus!Bucky x Witch!reader (fantasy au)

Run-through: You learnt about them when you were young. You had tomes filled with information about them, how to invite one, how to control one, etc. You also knew that if done right, union with an incubus was said to result in the birth of powerful witches. And now, after having spent years all alone following the unfortunate slaughter of your family you have two strong desires; to have a child and to continue the witch bloodline. Both of which can be fulfilled by summoning and making the right arrangements with the right incubus. And the best part of it all, incubi were known to be incapable of love and emotional attachment, so ending the arrangement once you conceived wouldn’t be hard for either parties involved. Except, it’s not always that easy, is it? And perhaps, not all incubi are heartless.

Themes: breeding kink, smut, fluff, incubus!bucky, witch!reader, size difference, he has wings and a tail, some angst, HEA

a/n: nothing is folklore accurate whatsoever just excessive imagination and vibes hehe

You were prepared if ever it was not going to work the first time.

Continuar lendo

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blackcatner00 · 25 days ago

Text

Christmas Stopover

Bucky A/U

Summary: Billionaire James Barnes' ends up stranded in your small town over Christmas. Will you break his hard and crusty exterior and get him to liven up and live a little?

Content warning: mild language, Bucky is a bit of a jerk at first, but redeems himself at the end, little fluff. I basically wrote a hallmark Christmas movie so enjoy.

Image found here

“Mr. Barnes?” came the voice over the speakers.

James rolled his eyes.

“We’re having some mechanical lights come on in the cockpit. We’ve made the decision to divert to the nearest airport.”

James let out a groan as he looked out the window of his private plane.

“Where the hell are we?” he muttered.

The perky young flight attendant walked up to him and smiled

“Holley Valley sir,” she beamed.

James just glared at her until she retreated to the galley. This was not in his plans at all and would cause delays with his project.

As the flight landed at the dismal looking airport, the doors opened, and a gust of cool harsh air spread across his body making him shudder.

“Cold enough for you sir?” One of the pilots asked.

James turned to look at him.

“How long until this gets fixed?” He pointed at the plane.

“Not sure. We’ve been in contact with the manufacturer. Shouldn’t be too long to get the parts sent here.”

His eyes didn’t meet James’ which was never a good thing.

James let out a huff which caused a white cloud of steam to float up into the air. Damn, it’s cold.

He proceeded down the stairs and into the small terminal. Inside, there were basically two gates, a few lounge chairs, a check in counter, and one security guard.

He walked up to the security guard and asked, “Anywhere I can get a car rental?”

The security guard chuckled and shrugged.

“Ask Lonnie at check-in. She may have a lead on one for you.”

James walked to the check in counter and saw an older lady with a nametag that read Lonnie. She had a gaudy Christmas pin on her lapel and her white hair was tied up in a twist.

“Do you have a car rental for me? I need to get to a hotel.”

Lonnie looked up at him and smiled.

“You’re the gentleman who had some plane trouble.”

She leaned back on the counter. James was getting irritated, there was no time for small talk. From his initial delay in leaving the city to the mechanical issue his plane has, to being stuck in god knows where, he was starting to lose his cool.

“Do you have one? If not, I’ll just Uber.”

He took his phone from his jacket pocket and started scrolling. Lonnie smirked at him until James realized Uber was not a thing where he now stood. He sighed and looked at her.

“I can arrange something special for you.” She smiled as James watched her make a few calls.

🎄✈

Half an hour later, James was driving his maroon 2001 Dodge Caravan into the small town he was now stuck in. Lonnie found a van for him to use while he waited for his plane to be fixed.

He’s pretty sure it’s her son-in-law’s, but it gets the job done. A far cry from his usual personal driver and town car in the city. The van sputtered and groaned as he made his way to the town.

Lonnie told him there was only one option to stay in town, and that was the Holly Valley Inn. He scanned his phone and double checked the directions as he came across the large manor-like house as he pulled into the driveway loop and got out.

The Inn was a brown brick manor house that had a large entranceway flagged by two winter arrangements, and large windows with black trim that gave off a homey historic vibe. James left the van where it was, got his bag, and walked into the lobby, eager to get a room so he could relax and deal with his meetings.

🎄✈

You had run ragged throughout the day and were taking a small break at the front of the inn. The inn was full of guests, something it always was during the Christmas season.

When your grandma ran the inn herself, she had many traditions like tree decorating, a well stoked fire in the fireplace, Christmas cookies out for the guests, a gingerbread house contest, and a pot of hot chocolate was always close by. Your repeat guests over the holidays always made you smile since you watched some of their kids grow up, and now that you’re running things, you’ve kept those traditions going.

You looked over at a photo of your grandma you had up behind the desk and smiled. If she were still here today, she’d be smiling at all the hard work you had been doing at the inn.

You refreshed the rooms, upgraded the Wi-Fi, bought the café next to the inn and turned it into the Holly café so you could cater events and weddings, and that was just the start. You had grand visions for the upcoming year, but money was tight.

You leaned against the counter and stretched as you saw a van pull up.

A man walked through the front doors, and you instantly straightened.

He looked important and fancy in his black tailored suit and his power walk was something else. You leaned against the counter and smiled.

“Welcome to the Holly Valley Inn, how can I help you?” you smiled.

“I need a room,” he gruffly said.

Your eyebrows shot up at his abruptness, but you could handle him. You knew there was only one room left, but you decided to look at the computer to see what was left.

“Hmm…” you typed away.

The man stood impatiently watching you.

“For how many nights?”

“One.”

“Just one?”

You stopped typing to look at him and confirm. He was tall and handsome with his dark hair, blue eyes that seemed to shine, and light stubble that was on his face.

“Just one” he grumbled.

“Ok. I have a room for you, but it’s a smaller one if you’re ok with it and I haven’t gotten around to refreshing it.”

“It’ll be fine for the night.”

He shoved his black card at you for the charges.

“Fill this out then.”

You handed him a piece of paper. He sighed but took it and a pen and started filling it out.

“Here,” he gave it back at you.

“Room 302, up two flights of stairs, last door in the hallway.”

You smiled and handed him the key. The man stood there watching you.

“Is there anything else?”

“Is there someone to take my bag for me?”

You snorted at his joke but realized he wasn’t joking.

“Oh, you’re serious. Sure, let me get the concierge from his break. I’m sure he would be pleased to assist you with your one small suitcase you are perfectly capable of taking yourself.”

The man scowled at you making you snicker. He still stood there.

“Seriously. We don’t have that here. You’re on your own, or I could help you?”

You walked around the desk and grabbed his bag.

“No, let me, it’s fine,” he gritted out. He was not going to make a lady carry his bag for him, so he took his bag and started up the stairs.

“Oh, can you park this for me?”

He tossed you the keys to his van and turned his back to head up the stairs.

“Yeah, that’s not happening” you muttered. You placed his keys behind the desk and left his van where it was.

🎄✈

James got to his room and opened the door, revealing a small double bed tucked into the corner of the room. It was small, but he was pleasantly surprised that it was clean and neat. He smiled thinking of the cute yet snarky check-in girl but composed himself while he unpacked his small bag.

This was not a vacation, and he was not going to be here long. He sat on the bed holding his phone, eager to get updates on his plane, and make changes to the meetings he had scheduled.

A few hours later, he was able to reschedule all but one of his meetings and his plane was still grounded so he decided to wander down to the main lobby to see about getting something to eat.

🎄✈

“Can I eat anywhere?” James asked you.

You looked up from the computer and said “I don’t know, can you?”

His eyes bulged and he coughed into his hand, taken aback by your snarky comment. You smirked.

“There’s a café through there, or if you wanted to venture further into town, the diner is open, or you can pick up a few things from the grocery store.”

“Fine. Where’s my van?” he asked.

You shrugged.

“Bruce towed it a few hours ago.”

“What?!” James bellowed.

A few guests by the fire looked over at the commotion.

“It was in a fire lane,” you deadpanned.

“I told you to move it.”

“I’m not a valet and besides, I was busy.”

You totally weren’t so you went back to your screen.

If this fancy pants city man thinks he can boss me around, he as another thing coming for him.

We don’t treat people like that around here.

“Ugh!” James groaned and took his phone out.

“What’s the number?”

You handed him one of Bruce’s cards and started cleaning one of the glass window panes behind you.

“The garage is only a few blocks from here. You can walk it” you offered while James was on hold.

“Fine.” He turned to the door.

“You may want warmer clothes.”

James clenched his jaw and turned to you.

“I’m only here one night. I don’t need warm clothes, I’ll be fine.” Then he turned and left.

“Suit yourself,” you mumbled.

You saw James walk in and he was shivering, holding his keys and what looked like a take out bag from the diner.

“Got your van back?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a nice van” you added making James scowl further at you.

He took off up the stairs muttering to himself. “Have a nice night.” you chuckled.

🎄✈

The following morning, James was waiting at the front desk with his bag.

“Did you have a nice stay?” you asked while running his card for the charges.

“It was fine. Service could use some improving” he admitted while shoving his card into his wallet.

“Well, I’ll be sure to tell management. Have a nice day.”

You smiled watching as he left.

“Is the problem in 302 gone?” Wanda asked, making you snort.

“Leaving now.”

“I’ll head there and clean it so it’s ready for whoever.”

“Thanks,” you smiled.

🎄✈

James was at the airport, expected to board when one of his pilots walked up to him in the lounge.

“We have another problem. Because of our flight diversion, we have to wait to file a new flight path. Could take a few more days.”

James clenched and unclenched his jaw at the news.

“Why so long? I pay you people enough.”

“Holiday season, lots of people on holidays until the new year,” the pilot shrugged.

“How long then?” James rubbed his eyes.

“Maybe after Christmas?”

“We’re stuck here until after Christmas?” James shrieked.

The pilot wanted to slink away from James’ wrath.

“Fine.”

James sighed, and he turned to get his van. Lonnie smiled and handed him back his minivan keys as James headed back into town.

“God damn trip from hell” he muttered while shoving his bag into the back.

🎄✈

“Back again so soon?” You asked a red faces James.

“Plane issues. Stuck here until after Christmas,” he muttered and handed you his card again.

“Hmm, not sure if I have anything left.”

You typed away on your computer. James glared at you.

“Oh, right. Here. Same room is available. Checking out Dec 26 then?”

“Yes.” James grumbled.

“It’s only four days.”

You slid his card through the reader again and handed him his key.

“Do join us later for the tree decorating,” you called after him.

James turned and sarcastically rolled his eyes before he left. There was no way in hell he was going to decorate a damn Christmas tree, even if the innkeeper was cute. He never understood Christmas. He mainly spent his Christmases with his nannies at home, or on vacation while his parents did their own thing.

He never got the whole decorating, spending time with family, and gift giving of the season. To him, December was just another month on the calendar.

It seemed like a lot of work for one day a year, so he never participated in it as he grew older. He didn’t have the time while he ran his billion-dollar company.

He walked into the same small room he had before and saw it was cleaned and ready for him. He placed his things in the small dresser and sat on his bed, re-scheduling his meetings for a second time. Once he was done, he placed his phone on the charger and looked around.

There wasn’t much to do as he relaxed a little. In no way was he thinking about the tree decorating party that was going on. No way was he thinking he may want to observe it to see what the fuss was all about.

🎄✈

“Where are you going to put your ornaments?” You asked a small group of kids as they stood before the tree.

They giggled and shrugged.

“Pick a spot and just hang it,” you smiled as you helped them decorate.

Wanda served cookies and hot chocolate to the guests as they made their ornaments and hung them. Soft Christmas music played in the background as everyone stood around chatting. You saw James wander down and lean against the check-in desk with his arms folded close to his chest.

“Can I help you?”

He shrugged.

“Just watching.”

“Here.”

You handed him an ornament and he looked at it like it was going to attack him.

“You know, for hanging on the tree?”

You pointed to the large balsam that stood next to the fireplace.

“You want me to decorate?” he asked.

You looked at him funny.

“Well, yeah, I mean it’s Christmas, there’s a naked tree, and you’re holding an ornament, so, yes?”

He cleared his throat and stepped towards the tree, maneuvering between kids and parents. He chose a spot higher up and placed his felt snowman ornament on it.

This was the first time he had ever hung an ornament on a tree before. You could have sworn he smiled, but he quickly shook it off and walked back.

“Hot chocolate?” Wanda handed him a cup which he took.

“I usually don’t eat this stuff” he pointed to the cookies and sweets.

“Calories don’t count at Christmas. Live a little James,” you shrugged and popped a chocolate in your mouth making him chuckle.

When you turned your back, he snuck a homemade chocolate and popped it in his mouth, savouring the flavour of the caramel and sea salt.

As the tree decorating crowd dwindled down to a few, James sat on the leather sofa in front of the fire.

“So, why are you here? You’re obviously not here for the festivities” you sat next to him.

“Plane troubles so I’m stuck here now”

“Oh.” You thought about it. Clearly the man has money as you looked over his cashmere sweater and black slacks he wore.

“No airlines fly here. It’s just a private small airport.”

You thought about it.

“I have a private plane,” he shrugged.

“Oh,” you nodded along.

You’ve never left Holly Valley. You had plans to go to school, but when your grandma got sick, you started running the inn for her. When she passed, the business of the inn was passed onto you to run so you just took it all on.

For now, your passport was collecting dust in your drawer. Your parents were never in the picture growing up, it was always you and your grandma who raised you, learning from and helping her and run the inn.

“Well, be sure to check out the town tomorrow. There’s lots to do at this time of year but you may want to get a few warm articles of clothing if you do.”

“Y/n can help you shop.” Wanda piped in from her hot chocolate station.

You glared at her.

“You have some free time in the morning. Help James out by getting some sweaters and a proper jacket and boots from the general store.”

You looked over at James.

“Well, it makes sense If I’m going to be here for a few more days” he shrugged.

He did not want to freeze anytime soon.

“Fine. Meet me here at 8am.”

“Ok.”

You got up from the couch and went to help a family at the front desk with James’ eyes following you and Wanda smiling wide.

🎄✈

“Morning,” you said to James as he stood in the lobby.

“Coffee?”

You headed to the café and poured a cup for yourself.

“Thanks.”

He grabbed a cup and filled it full of black coffee.

You poured an unholy amount of cream and sugar into your cup while James gave you the stink eye.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he smirked and sipped his coffee.

“Sam? Do you have the sandwiches?”

“Sure thing!”

Sam, the head chef called. He handed you a brown bag and headed towards the lobby.

“I got us some breakfast sandwiches to go. Sam makes the best.”

You followed James out to his van. He opened your door and helped you inside, making you blush a little. No one had ever done that to you before. You handed James his sandwich.

“Nice van by the way,” you snickered then took a bite of your breakfast sandwich.

James looked over and glared at you.

“Lonnie’s son-in-law makes a bit of extra cash by renting random things around town, including his vehicles. Not sure how he gets away with the insurance, but whatever. No one says anything about it and he’s a good guy.”

You took another bite. James finished his breakfast sandwich as he drove to the small town.

“Have you lived here all your life?” he asked.

“Yeah. Born here and everything.”

“Wow.”

“Why?”

“No reason. Just thought it would be boring to live here.”

You shrugged.

“It’s not all that bad here. Sure, we’re not a big fancy city, but the people who live here are good, kind, and we help each other out when there are problems. It’s safe and friendly, houses are inexpensive, so there isn’t much more you can want. Sure, I’ve wanted to leave and explore on my own, but circumstances kept me here, so I just stayed. I’d like to travel, but I’m happy with my life here,” you admitted.

James hummed at your words as he found a parking spot on the main street. His life lately has been all about meetings, the next big deal for his company, making money, and buying properties throughout the world. It was starting to get boring with the same old things.

Maybe this was just the stopover he needed to make some changes with his life.

You helped him pick out a few sweaters, a pair of boots, gloves, and a toque to keep him warm while he was staying. You also admired his body from afar as he came out from the dressing room a few times to show you.

You had to swallow hard as he took off one sweater and put another on, revealing a tight six pack as his shirt lifted slightly. Yeah, sweets really aren’t his thing you blushed thinking of his warm skin. He changed into some of his new purchases at the store so he would be warmer as you showed him around the town. He was impressed with what he saw and how you interacted with everyone.

A lot of people greeted you by name and you asked them about their family and what their plans were. James would never stop and chat with anyone in the city. He was always too busy to notice.

“So that’s where they have ice skating,” you pointed to a small outdoor rink by the lake.

“Oh?”

“You ever been?”

“What? Ice skating? Nah. It’s kiddie stuff.” James shook his head no.

“Do you want to?” you asked.

“What? You skate?”

“Sure do.”

"Of course you do.” James mumbled.

“So do you?”

James looked at the rink, then back at you.

“Are you scared?” you teased.

“No!”

“Then come on and have a little fun. When was the last time that word was in your vocabulary James?”

He thought about it and it had been some time since he’d let loose.

“Ugh, fine, but if I hurt myself…”

“You won’t, I promise.”

“Fine.”

James followed you to the rink.

You got the skates and helped him into his pair when you headed towards the ice.

“You know it works best if you follow me,” you called to James behind you who sat on the bench.

“I know. I’m working up the courage to get there.”

James waved you off.

“Ok.”

You took off onto the rink and skated around, laughing and joking with some of the other skaters. James smiled at you as he watched you easily go around the rink. He stood and was a little unsteady as he made his way to the ramp to get onto the ice.

“Here, let me help you.”

You arrived at the opening and held out your hands for him to take. He grabbed them and held on for dear life while you showed him how to skate. He started off wobbling like crazy but got the hang of it quickly.

You laughed at his scrunched-up face as a group of kids passed him. One little girl stopped and helped him and encouraged him to skate with her.

“Come on mister, you almost got it!” She said while James wobbled and glided with her around the rink.

She giggled and took off making James scowl.

“Even the kids are helping you,” you laughed as James stopped and frowned.

“Shut up,” he teased, making your way back to the ramp.

“That was fun right?”

Your cheeks were a rosy, red colour while you put your shoes back on. James hadn’t let loose like that in a long time.

“It was,” he admitted making you smile.

He came to like it when you smiled at him. He also liked it when you snarked back at him with a snappy response, but he’d never admit that.

“Come on, I should head back to the inn.”

You handed in your skates and left for the inn.

🎄✈

“I’m sorry, you did what?” Steve asked over their video call.

“I went ice skating.”

“Who are you and what have you done with James?” Steve stared at his friend through the screen.

“Shut up.” James rolled his eyes at his VP.

“Whatever. While you’re there playing cozy Christmas, I’ve been here stuck in your meetings. There’s an issue with the Paris office. You need to fly there in the new year.”

“Of course there is,” James sighed.

There was always an issue with the Paris office.

“Nothing else then?”

“Nah, things can wait ‘til you’re back.” Steve smirked.

James sighed.

“Fine.”

“Where are you staying anyways?”

“Holly Valley Inn.”

Steve was typing on his computer.

“Found it. Looks nice” he stalked the website.

“Could use some updating.”

James looked around his small room and smiled. You had told him on your drive back from skating your grandma made the quilts that were on the bed.

At first when he got settled, he cringed at the ‘homey’ness of the room, but he now appreciated the little touches you added to the rooms to make them unique and personal.

“We can buy them out. They got a great location, close to town…We could demolish it and build new. Spa, resort, the whole thing.”

“No.”

James spoke directly into the camera. You told him earlier about your grandma while you helped him shop. There was no way he was going to come in and make an offer to buy your inn. Steve turned from his screen and studied James.

“Normally you’d be all over an opportunity like this. Why not?”

“No reason, just not interested in a place like this.”

Steve eyed him up but gave up his persistence.

“Fine. Next, you’re going to tell me you’re decorating a gingerbread house or some shit” Steve snorted, and James looked at him.

“Wait, are you?”

“Well, that’s this afternoon’s activity, which I’m already late for,” James glared at Steve.

“You sure you’re ok?”

Steve asked making James chuckle.

“I’m fine. Let’s just say there’s going to be some changes in the new year,” James announced.

Steve eyed him up but nodded, and they finished their meeting. James closed his laptop and looked around the room. He wondered if you’d be around for the decorating of the houses so he wandered down to the lobby hoping he would run into you.

🎄✈

“Make sure to icing the actual gingerbread houses and not each other,” you reminded the younger guests who were giggling and eating more of the decorations than they were using.

“Keep the icing on the table,” you sighed and wiped up some spilled royal icing that was on the floor by the fireplace.

Wanda and Sam had prepped the area for the gingerbread house decorating and thought it would be a great idea to get the kids hopped up on sugar then handed them a piping bag of icing. You’re going to have to be around for the start of that next year you internally chuckled to yourself.

You had been with James in the morning and blushed a little at the memories. The way he held your hand while you skated around sent sparks through your body.

Sure, he was holding on for dear life, but it felt nice. You saw his grumpy exterior was slowly starting to melt. You helped a guest with their piping bag of icing and handed it back to them when you spied James lurking around the lobby.

“Hey” you smiled.

“Hi. What is all this?” He pointed to the tables you had set up and the screeching kids and gobs of icing.

“Gingerbread house decorating” you smiled.

“Wow.” James took it all in and observed.

“Saved one for you if you want?” You pointed to an empty workstation.

“Oh, no, I’m good.” He eyed up the table like it would snap at him.

“Come on!” You urged him to the table.

“I’ve never done this before.”

“Who cares, just have fun!”

He walked up to it and looked at all the items.

“It’s all there. You can decorate it how you want. No charge, included with your stay.”

You winked at him. He rolled his eyes thinking that a small charge for making a gingerbread house wouldn’t even cut into his pocket change. He blushed but looked around at the other people doing the same and decided to go for it. He rolled up the sleeves of his new flannel shirt and got to work.

“I can’t believe you got him to decorate a house!” Wanda whispered to you.

“I know!” You chuckled.

“He’s into you.”

You whipped your head to her and gasped a little.

“He’s not! Besides, he’s leaving in a few days anyways and I’m staying here. He’s nice company for me but come on Wanda. He’s…well…look at him. He’s practically a billionaire and I’m – well, I’m me.” You pointed to yourself.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve caught him giving you looks every so often. If he really is so fancy, he can work from anywhere. He probably has amazing staff working for him where he can afford not to be in an office all the time. Plus, he literally owns a plane which he can fly anywhere at any time.” She pointed out.

“But still. I’m boring old small-town me and he’s Mr. City. Yeah, his grumpy exterior is melting, but he’ll be out of here before we know it and I’ll be alone again.”

You looked down and shuffled your feet a little.

“Whatever you say, but he’s staring at you now,” Wanda whispered before she headed back to the rooms.

“Hey,” you smiled at James.

“I’m not sure I’m getting this,” he pointed to the piping bag in his hands.

“Here.”

You grabbed it and showed him how to pipe out the frosting.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” James teased.

You blushed a little and handed him back the bag.

“Lots actually, but I what I do, I tend to do well.”

James started piping some icing on the roof of the house, but a giant glob of icing leaked out and spread on the roof.

“Oh no!”

He put the bag down and started spreading the icing on thick. His panicked face made you giggle as he worked the icing.

“What?” He asked.

“Nothing, but you have some right there.”

You pointed to his cheek where he wiped another smear on it making you laugh.

“No silly, you’re making it worse. Here.”

You took his hand and moved it to his face.

“Oh, here.”

He smiled and smeared the icing in more.

“James!” You scolded him and grabbed a cloth. As you reached for it, he playfully put a drop of icing on your nose.

“Oh!”

You laughed as he chuckled at what he did. You took another glop and placed it on his other cheek.

“Sorry, it slipped,” you innocently said.

He narrowed his eyes at you and took a red candy and placed it on your nose.

“Whatever Rudolph,” he teased.

You giggled and helped him clean up. He took the cloth from your hands and leaned in close, making sure to get most of the icing from your nose off.

“There,” he smiled.

His bright blue eyes seemed to sparkle.

“Thanks,” you blushed at how close he was. Butterflies started fluttering in you when you were interrupted by a family who was checking in.

“Sorry, be right there,” you called, wiping your face with the cloth again before you took off to the front desk.

James smiled as he finished decorating his monstrosity of a house.

“There!” He said, pleased with his house.

His eyes squinted at it while he fussed with some of the candy, but overall, he was proud of himself. Again, this being his first time ever that he decorated a gingerbread house. Usually, the chef at his house growing up made one that was for display only.

He was happy he got to do this himself. He looked over at the front desk and saw you finishing up with the family, then you took off to the office. He frowned to himself as he picked up his house and headed back to his room.

Maybe you would spend time with him later.

🎄✈

It was Christmas Eve and James was sitting near the fireplace. He sipped on some hot chocolate and scrolled through his phone. Many of his employees had gone home for the day and were looking forward to the break when you sat down next to him.

“Have you heard anything about your plane?” you asked.

“What, trying to get rid of me?” James teased.

“No, just wondering.” You shrugged one shoulder.

“We got clearance to leave Dec 26. Headed back to the city, then Dec 30, I am headed to Paris,” he casually dropped like going to Paris was no big deal for him.

“Wow, Paris.”

You imagined what spending New Years in Paris would be like. You smiled to yourself thinking how romantic it would be then you stopped. He probably had a lady waiting for him there. All these rich billionaire men had women stashed all over the world. A man like James Barnes doesn’t settle down.

“Yeah, it’s not all it’s cracked out to be. It’s busy, loud, and I’ll be working there for a few weeks into the new year. I always prefer being at home,” he said, which was the truth.

Although James has offices and homes throughout the world, he’s always preferred being at home.

“So, no sightseeing then?”

“No,” he chuckled.

“Unless you count the interior of the boardroom as something to see,” he teased.

“What do you normally do for Christmas day around here?” He asked.

“We have a large brunch that is served to the guests followed by another for dinner. Basically, we open presents, and then spend the rest of the day eating our faces off.” James chuckled.

“Wait, do you live here?” James looked around making you chuckle.

“No not here here. I have a house at the back of the property. It was my grandmas and now it’s mine. It’s not much, but it works for me. I’m looking to renovate it in the new year, but we’ll see if there’s enough money for that. I’ve got some other things in the works I have to spend money on, so my house always gets put aside. I don’t mind though.”

James nodded along when he got an idea. He glanced at his watch and then bolted off the couch.

“Gotta go, see you later,” he called as he ran up the stairs.

“Ok,” you said to an empty room.

“Where did James go?” asked Wanda.

She was manning the front desk for you while you took a small break from cleaning up the decorating tables.

“No idea,” you shrugged.

“Anyways, everyone’s checked in so I’m going to head home. See you tomorrow for brunch?” Wanda asked.

“Sure thing. Have a good night and Merry Christmas. Thanks for all you do Wanda.”

You got up from the couch and gave her a tight hug. “Merry Christmas. Get some sleep!” She scolded you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved her off as she left the lobby.

You lingered around the lobby a little longer, but didn’t see James, so you headed to your home to relax for the rest of the night. The guests would be taken care of by your night crew, so you were looking forward to relaxing.

🎄✈

“Ok, so it’s set then?” James asked on his phone.

“All set sir. We can begin as early as February.” James smiled and thanked the man as he ended the call.

He smiled at himself thinking this little detour he found himself in really was an eye opener. His initial thoughts of being stranded in a small bumpkin-like town were going to irritate him, which it did at first, but then he met you.

You were the only one to give him smart replies and made him feel welcome during his little stopover, no matter his attitude towards you. Even though he was mean to you at first, you showed him how to relax a little and try some new things, never once being intimidated by who he is.

That right there told him everything he needs to know and how genuine and good at your job you are. He rarely sees the care and connection people have at their jobs and he was glad there were still people left in the world like you. He had been wanting to get you something for Christmas, and after what you had said telling him your plans, he had just the perfect thing in mind. He just hoped you would accept it.

🎄✈

“Merry Christmas Sam!” You hugged your head chef.

“Merry Christmas Y/n,” he smiled.

“Food’s all ready!”

He smiled proudly at the buffet tables set up.

“You really outdid yourself this year,” you smiled and took a few photos of the set up for social media.

“I know!” Sam smirked.

“Anyways, I’m going to head back there and make sure the staff doesn’t kill each other getting the rest of the food out.”

“Sounds good,” you giggled.

You stood welcoming the guests to the restaurant when you spotted James standing in the line. Your face flushed a little at seeing him.

“Merry Christmas!” You said to James as he smiled at you.

He took a step towards you and hugged you to his strong chest.

“Merry Christmas!” He whispered.

You showed him to his table, and he went about loading up a plate with food while you oversaw things from the side. You smiled as he dug into his pancakes and eggs, chuckling to yourself that the man was finally relaxing and eating some beloved carbs. Who would have known his lack of carbs was tied into his grumpiness, you internally rolled your eyes to yourself.

The room started clearing as guests were chatting about the gifts they received when you stopped and sat at James’ table.

“Did you enjoy the brunch?” you asked.

James sat back in his chair and let out a satisfied groan while he patted his flat stomach.

“It was delicious. Compliments to your chef,” he sighed.

“Oh, I got you this,” you handed him a small giftbag which he took.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said while he rooted around in it.

He took out the tissue paper and his eyes lit up. Wanda had taken a few photos for social media of the gingerbread house decorating and it was a candid photo of you and James laughing together while he was icing the roof.

“Wow,” he smiled.

He looked at himself in the photo and for the first time, he realized he was truly relaxed and smiling at you.

“Thanks,” he smiled at you and placed the photo back into the bag.

“You’re welcome. I figured you could have a souvenir of your time here during your stopover, something to remember us by.”

Suddenly you were sad he was leaving when you cleared your throat and got up to help a family who were at the front desk. The idea of James leaving made you sad, but you knew this was coming.

🎄✈

After helping the family, Wanda took over watching the front desk so you could help Sam changeover the restaurant to the dinner buffet. Apart from the guests staying at the inn, many local towns people had reservations booked for their Christmas Day buffet, a tradition your grandma started a few years before she passed.

You walked into the restaurant but didn’t see Sam. James was sitting at a table drinking a coffee.

“Oh, hello.” You looked around.

James stood when you walked up to his table.

“Sam is supposed to be setting up.”

“I asked for a few minutes alone with you.”

“Oh?”

James helped you into a chair that was next to his.

“Thanks.”

He sat down and smiled.

“Here,” he gave you a box and blushed a little.

“Merry Christmas,” he smiled.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” your face was red.

“Just open it,” he shook his head at you.

You playfully stuck your tongue out at him and opened the box.

“What is this?”

You looked at the paperwork.

“Money?”

You were confused.

“It’s an investment.”

James clarified.

“What?”

You flipped through the folder and your mouth dropped open.

“James…”

Inside was a contract for James to invest with your inn, giving you much needed capital to finish the improvements you had told him about.

“Contractor can start in February. I have it all set up if you want. I don’t want to own the inn, or anything like that, I just want to invest in it. Invest in you.”

James took your hand in his.

“James…”

You were shocked. Not once had you gotten any interest in investors for your inn. The bank only did so much, and you didn’t want to take out a loan for it, but this much needed money would be a giant help in getting your projects and dreams off the ground.

“James…I-I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll take me on. As your investor and mentor through it. I’ve got contacts in the industry who can help and meet with you. I just want you to be more successful and to see your dreams a reality” he squeezed the back of your hand.

A few tears were making your eyes sparkle as you looked at the paperwork, then at James, unable to say anything.

“I made you speechless!” James teased.

“Oh my god this is…this is amazing!”

You flung yourself at him so he had to hold you so you didn’t fall.

“Is that a yes, you’ll take my help and money?”

“It’s a hell yes! Oh my god, I have so many plans for here, you have no idea. I have proposals made; presentations done. I was going to make a bank appointment so many times, but I chickened out every time. But now, I don’t have to!” You gushed.

James still held you in his arms and squeezed tightly.

“I want to invest in you.” James smiled.

You were smiling from ear to ear.

“I want to invest in us,” he leaned to you and whispered.

“Oh.”

Your face was red.

“There’s something else.” James pointed to the bag.

“What? Another gift?”

You looked at the bag and saw an envelope in the bottom. You opened it and your eyes bugged out.

“James!”

Inside was a ticket to Paris, first class.

“I’ll be in Paris soon, but I was hoping to fly you out to join me for New Year’s Eve?” James asked.

You couldn’t think, your mind was blank.

“Are you ok?”

James waved a hand in front of your face, snapping you out.

“I’d fly you on my private jet, but I don’t want you on a stopover anytime soon. I’ve already ordered a new plane which will be ready in the summer, but will the ticket be, ok? Will you join me in Paris?”

You’ve never had the opportunity to go anywhere and this man whom you’ve known for a few days showed up, provided you with a clear future, is believing in you, and is now asking you to join him in freaking Paris.

“Ok.” You quietly said. This may be crazy but everything in your screamed to take him up on his offer and join him.

James smiled wide and hugged you tightly.

“I’m so excited!”

He said into your hair.

You looked over James’ shoulder and saw Wanda and Sam smiling wide at you, giving you the thumbs up.

“Oh, but I have to be here…”

“No you don’t! We got this!” Both Sam and Wanda yelled from the bar making you laugh.

“Ok!”

You wiped at a tear that had fallen. James smiled and brushed some of your hair from your face.

“Merry Christmas Y/n,” he said.

“Merry Christmas James.”

You both leaned close and kissed, sealing your deal with your future that was looking brighter than the Christmas star.

548 notes · View notes

blackcatner00 · 26 days ago

Text

Omg THIS CHAPTER-

I'm so mad at everyone right now, especially Steve. Like, I can understand being mad and not wanting your best friend to be in that type of situation, but bro-

Also Nat, I know it was bad on her part to tell Steve, even though R already told her not to, but I can understand why she did it. I just hope they can talk things through because I really want them to have some sort of friendship or something 😔 Also, I hate Bucky so much right now, he better put his shit together.

Btw your writting is sooo good, i was literally about to cry in this chapter.

Say Don't Go | Part 6

Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Asshole steve, angst, i think a swear or 2 lol

Masterpost

----

The crowd’s energy had shifted from electric to chaotic in an instant. Cheers had turned into murmurs of confusion, and the tension in the arena now felt suffocating. Your camera hung useless around your neck as you watched the scene unfold. Steve and Bucky were being dragged off the ice, both bloodied, jerseys disheveled. You barely registered the referee’s whistle cutting through the air or the crowd’s scattered boos as your focus remained on them.

Bucky’s head hung low, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t look back. But then he did. His blue eyes locked on yours across the chaos, filled with something raw—shame, regret, fear. He held your gaze for a heartbeat, and then he turned away, jaw tightening as the locker room swallowed him.

Beside you, Natasha had gone still, her sharp gaze cutting between the ice and the exit. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her arms crossed tightly.

“What the hell was that?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the crowd’s restless noise.

Natasha’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t look at you. “That,” she said, her voice low and clipped, “was Steve losing his shit. And Bucky letting him.”

Your stomach twisted, nausea rising in your throat. “You told him,” you said, your voice cracking. “You told Steve.”

Natasha finally looked at you, her expression unreadable. “He deserved to know.”

The words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at her. “Nat, I trusted you.” Your voice wavered, the tremor undeniable.

Her face softened, regret flickering across her features. “I didn’t think he’d—” She cut herself off, her head snapping toward the exit. “Come on.”

You didn’t have time to argue before Natasha grabbed your arm, pulling you through the maze of hallways under the arena. The distant sound of the crowd faded, replaced by the unmistakable sound of yelling—a voice you knew too well. Steve’s voice, sharp and furious, echoed down the corridor.

By the time you reached the locker room, the shouting had quieted, replaced by muffled voices and the clang of something heavy hitting the floor. Natasha pressed her back against the wall, her body tense, ready for a fight.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be here,” you murmured, every fiber of your being screaming at you to run.

Natasha glanced at you, her expression unreadable. “If we’re not here, Steve’s going to say something worse than he probably already did, and Bucky’s going to do something even stupider. Trust me, it’s better this way.”

You stared at the closed door, each muffled sound twisting the knot in your stomach tighter. Before you could decide whether to stay or run, the door slammed open. His gaze landed on you like a blade, sharp and unrelenting.

“Stevie—” you started, voice trembling, but he shook his head sharply.

“Not now,” he snapped, his voice cold and clipped. “Go home, Bee. I’m not playing right now.”

The nickname, one that had always felt warm and comforting, now felt like a knife to the chest. You flinched, taking a step back, but he wasn’t done. His gaze burned into you, his words cutting deeper than any wound.

“You know,” he said, his voice eerily calm, “I told you not to get involved with him. I told you this would happen. But you couldn’t listen, could you?”

“Steve, I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?” he interrupted, his voice rising. “Didn’t think about how this would affect me? Didn’t think about the team? Or didn’t think at all?”

"Steve, that’s enough,” Natasha said sharply, stepping between you.

But Steve wasn’t finished. He glared at her, frustration boiling over. “Don’t, Nat. You started this when you told me!"

Natasha’s eyes widened in surprise, but Steve had already turned his attention back to you. With his gaze back to you, his expression was a mixture of anger and something darker, something that looked almost like betrayal. He shook his head and let out a bitter laugh.

“You know,” he started, his voice eerily calm, “I hate to say it but you deserve this, all of it, you just couldn't keep your legs closed! And now look where we are.”

Your chest tightened, guilt and confusion tangling together. “Steve, I’m sorry—”

“Sorry?” he scoffed, his voice rising. “You’re sorry? You really had to fall for the first guy who looked your way, didn’t you?”

You felt the blood drain from your face, the words hitting harder than any punch. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “That’s not fair,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Fair?” he scoffed. “You want to talk about fair? I’ve spent my whole life looking out for you, Bee. I’ve done everything I could to protect you. And this—” He gestured wildly, his voice cracking. “This is how you repay me?”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. Steve had never spoken to you like this, never thrown your insecurities back at you. Tears stung your eyes, but you fought them back, swallowing hard.

“Steve, what the hell!” Natasha interjected, stepping fully between you and him now.

But Steve ignored her, his focus unwavering. “He’s my co-captain, Y/N. He’s on my team! We’re a team! He’s my friend. And you—” His voice cracked, but he pushed through, letting out a bitter laugh. “You didn’t have to sleep with him!”

His words hung in the air like a poison, suffocating and undeniable.

“Steve, stop!” Natasha’s voice was sharp now, her hand reaching for his arm, but he pulled away.

He turned to you one last time, his shoulders slumping slightly as if he had drained himself of his anger. His voice was quieter now, but no less cutting. “You couldn’t just listen, could you? I don’t ask much of you. I bend over backward for you, Bee, always have and unfortunately always will! It's that stupid trauma bond isn't it?!" He laughed "But I guess that was too much to ask.”

Steve!” Natasha snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut. “That’s enough.”

But Steve just shook his head, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of his anger had finally drained him. His next words were quieter, but no less cutting. “I hope it was worth it.”

He didn’t wait for a response, turning and storming down the hallway without a backward glance. The sound of his footsteps echoed long after he disappeared, leaving you standing there in stunned silence.

Natasha’s hand on your shoulder was the only thing grounding you. “Don’t listen to him,” she said softly.

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “You should go after him,” you murmured. “He needs you.”

Natasha hesitated, her gaze lingering on you. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Just… could you text me later? Let me know how he is?”

Her hesitation was brief, but then she nodded. “Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll check in.” She gave you one last look before nodding and heading after Steve, leaving you alone in the empty hallway.

And then she was gone, leaving you alone in the empty hallway. You stood there for a moment, the walls around you closing in, the weight of Steve’s words settling heavily on your chest.

Your hands trembled as you braced yourself against the wall, staring at the floor as tears finally broke free, hot and unrelenting. Steve’s words replayed in your mind, each one sharper than the last, each one carving deeper into the ache that had already taken root.

The silence was deafening. The ache in your chest unbearable.

--------

The locker room felt like a prison, the flickering fluorescent lights casting jagged shadows across the walls, the dripping faucet in the corner echoing louder than it should have. Bucky sat hunched on the bench, his hands still trembling, his knuckles raw and split from the fight. Blood crusted over his lip, mingling with the sweat that clung to his skin. His heart pounded relentlessly, the adrenaline from the brawl refusing to dissipate, as though his body was stuck in fight-or-flight mode.

The memory of Steve’s words reverberated through his skull like a hammer striking an anvil.

“You deserve this, all of it, you just couldn't keep your legs closed!"

Even now, it made his stomach churn. He’d heard venom in Steve’s voice before, but never like this—not directed at you. The implication of those words cut deeper than any punch Steve had landed.

Bucky clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. He’d sat there, silent and frozen, as Steve’s words lashed out at you like a whip. He could still hear your voice—quieter, almost pleading—trying to defend yourself against something that wasn’t even true.

And he hadn’t stepped in. He hadn’t opened his mouth to stop it. Not to defend you. Not to admit the truth. Not to own up to what he should have said days ago. Instead, he let the silence bury you, bury him on the other side of the wall.

The locker room door creaked open, snapping him out of his thoughts. He half expected to see you there, standing in the doorway with tears in your eyes, ready to demand answers. But it was just one of the assistant coaches, face flushed with fury, jaw tight with barely restrained anger.

“Barnes,” the coach barked, his voice sharp and grating. “You wanna tell me what the hell that was out there?”

Bucky didn’t lift his head, his gaze glued to the floor where blood had pooled.

The coach’s footsteps thundered closer. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Slowly, Bucky raised his head, his eyes hollow and rimmed with exhaustion. He didn’t have the energy for this—not when his mind was already tearing itself apart.

“What do you want me to say?” His voice came out hoarse, barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears.

“I want you to explain why two of my captains were throwing punches at each other in front of Goddamn everyone! You’ve got teammates out there looking up to you, Barnes. You think they saw leadership on that ice?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, the coach’s words bouncing off his mental walls without really sinking in. Leadership? That wasn’t what this was about. This wasn’t about hockey, or the team, or the stupid game they’d lost because of the fight. It was about you.

“It’s personal,” he muttered after a long pause, his voice flat.

“Personal?” The coach let out a bitter laugh. “You’re on the ice. Nothing’s personal out there! You leave that shit in the parking lot, or you don’t play. You hear me?”

Bucky nodded mutely, his mind already slipping away again.

“I’m serious, Barnes. You’re hanging by a thread right now! God the press is just gonna love this! Don’t bother showing up to practice Monday if you can’t get your head out of your ass..... I swear to fuck if this is over a girl Barnes!" The door slammed shut behind the coach, and silence once again swallowed the room.

Bucky stared down at his hands, at the blood caked under his nails, at the faint tremor in his fingers. He hated the feeling building in his chest—the guilt, the shame, the crushing weight of knowing that you deserved so much better than what he’d given you.

The fight with Steve replayed again, every punch like a snapshot burned into his memory. Steve’s rage had been justified, Bucky knew that. He wasn’t angry at Steve for what he’d said or done. He deserved all of it. But it wasn’t Steve’s voice that haunted him—it was the memory of yours.

The way you’d hesitated, as if you weren’t even sure you could believe your own defense. The way your voice had wavered, so quiet, like you didn’t think it mattered.

God, he’d done that to you.

The locker room walls felt like they were closing in as Bucky finally dragged himself to his feet. The shower water was scalding as it hit his skin, but he didn’t move. He let it burn, let it sting his battered body. Maybe it was penance. Maybe he deserved to feel every ounce of the pain he’d caused you.

As he stood under the stream, he imagined you walking out that door. Were you crying? Angry? Hurt? Had you stayed to listen to Steve, or had you run before he could make things worse? He didn’t know which was worse—the thought of you believing Steve’s words, or the thought of you knowing they were lies but doubting him anyway.

By the time he was dressed and ready to leave, the locker room was empty. The muffled sounds of the crowd had long since faded, replaced by a suffocating stillness. His bag hung heavy over his shoulder as he walked toward the door, pausing just before pushing it open.

For a moment, he thought about going to find you. Maybe you were still outside, maybe you were waiting for him, hoping for an explanation. But then reality crashed down on him like a tidal wave. What good would an explanation do? He couldn’t erase what had happened. He couldn’t erase what he hadn’t done.

He sank back onto the bench, his head in his hands, his heart heavy with the weight of what he’d lost.

The truth was simple, and it crushed him: He’d already lost you, and it was his fault.

Everything was always his fault.

-----

You stood frozen in the dimly lit hallway outside the locker room, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if you could hold yourself together. But you couldn’t. Steve’s words wouldn’t stop echoing in your head, each syllable landing like a slap:

“You really had to fall for the first guy who looked your way.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the sting of tears or the ache in your chest. Steve had never spoken to you like that before—never been so cruel, so deliberately cutting. He hadn’t just questioned your judgment; he’d dismissed your worth entirely.

Natasha’s earlier attempt to console you felt like a distant memory now. You weren’t sure if you wanted her to come back, or if you wanted anyone to see you like this—raw and shattered, barely holding on.

The locker room door creaked open, the sound pulling you back into the present. Your heart dropped as Bucky stepped out, his movements sluggish, his face a mess of bruises and exhaustion. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice rough, like he’d been screaming—or crying. "You're still here?"

You stared at him, your gaze flitting over his split lip, the blood still crusted on his knuckles. He looked…wrecked. But worse than the physical damage was the way his eyes begged you for something you couldn’t give—not tonight.

You wanted to reach for him. God, you wanted to. But in the end you really weren't ever anything, right? You flirted here and there, lingering looks and subtle touches all leading to the night at the party but you were never actually anything to him. The weight of everything—the fight, Steve’s words, the humiliation—kept you rooted in place, a wall of silence between you.

“I—” he started, then faltered. His hand raked through his damp hair, and for a moment, he looked utterly lost. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” you said, your voice trembling. It hurt to say it, but it would hurt more to listen.

His head shot up, panic flashing in his eyes. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t try to explain,” you choked out, barely holding back a sob. “Not tonight. I can’t—I can’t do this right now.”

He took a hesitant step forward, his hand half-reaching for you. “Please,” he said, his voice cracking. “Just…let me explain. Let me make this right.”

“No,” you snapped, sharper this time. Your anger surged, hot and unstoppable, breaking through the pain. “Do you have any idea what it felt like? Hearing them laugh about me? Hearing you say nothing? Standing there, letting them think I’m just nothing? And talking me down? Talking down an intimate moment, I just .... it meant something to me, you meant something to me, I don't just sleep with anyone, I thought... Never mind, it doesn't matter anyway, Im just just fucking stupid”

“I didn’t—” He flinched, his shoulders hunching as if bracing for impact. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean for it to—”

“You didn’t mean what?” you demanded, your voice rising. “You didn’t mean to stand there and let them tear me apart? You didn’t mean to hurt me? What, Bucky? What didn’t you mean?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Your laugh came out bitter, hollow. “That’s what I thought.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “It’s not what you think,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t understand—”

“Then make me understand!” you yelled, the words bursting out before you could stop them. “Say something that makes this make sense because, right now, I feel like the biggest fucking idiot on the planet for ever trusting you!”

He stared at you, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

And that silence—it broke something in you.

Your voice softened, but it didn’t lose its edge. “I thought you were different, Bucky. I really did. But you’re just like the rest of them. All talk, all charm, and when it matters? Nothing.”

“Don’t say that,” he whispered, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“Why not?” You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

He shook his head, stepping closer. “No. It’s not. You’re—God, you’re everything, Y/N. I just…I screwed up. I know I did, but you have to believe me—”

“I don’t have to do anything,” you said, cutting him off. “Not for you. Not anymore.”

His face crumpled, the fight draining out of him as he took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,�� he said, the words trembling with sincerity.

But it wasn’t enough. It never would be.

“Me too,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry I thought you could be better.”

With that, you turned and walked away, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. You didn’t dare look back.

Bucky stood frozen in place, staring at the spot where you’d been. The silence pressed down on him like a physical weight, the hollow ache in his chest spreading until it felt like it might swallow him whole.

He leaned back against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the cold tile floor. His head dropped into his hands, and for a long moment, he just sat there, trying to breathe, trying to think, trying to do anything but feel.

But it was impossible.

The memory of your face, the way your voice had cracked, the tears in your eyes—it was unbearable. And worse, the memory of the locker room—his teammates laughing, the vile things they’d said about you—played on a loop in his mind.

He hadn’t laughed with them. He hadn’t joined in. But he hadn’t stopped them either. And that was just as bad.

“I’m such a fucking coward,” he muttered, his voice thick with self-loathing.

He thought about running after you, about begging you to let him explain, to let him fix this. But what could he say? How could he even begin to make up for what he’d done—or hadn’t done?

The truth was, he didn’t deserve you. He never had. He knew that.

And now, he’d finally proven it.

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blackcatner00 · 28 days ago

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For the Love of the Game - Masterlist

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/drinking, Mild language, Angst, Minor injury, Smut (Minors dni, marked with **), Enemies to lovers trope!

a/n: This series is now complete :)

✶ Part One ✶

✶ Part Two ✶

✶ Part Three ✶

✶ Part Four ✶

✶ Part Five ✶

✶ Part Six ✶

✶ Part Seven ✶

Drabbles/One-shots (chronological after the main series, excluding the prequel)

Bucky realizing he’s falling in love. Prequel one-shot.

First time**

The fight

Bucky gets injured during a game

Going pro

What You’ve Got

In seven years

💙⚾️Playlist by @buckystarlight

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blackcatner00 · 29 days ago

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Awake My Soul • Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

WC: 78k (Complete)

Summary: It's been five years since zombies first started walking the Earth, destroying anything and everything in their wake. Now, in this apocalyptic world, fighting for survival comes as naturally as breathing. The one thing you've learned ever since they arrived, though, is that the living can be so much more dangerous than the undead. When you stumble across two young, scared boys lost in the woods and being chased by walkers, you go against your better judgment and help them to safety. Little did you know that helping them would lead you to Bucky - an angry, grumpy, distrusting member of the camp Shield. Bucky has zero interest in having you enter his life. He's been hurt before and lost too many people to risk experiencing that kind of pain again, and he knows that there are secrets you aren't telling the group. Yet, when push comes to shove, and you're put at risk, he'll stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Series Warnings: AaaaNGST, canon level violence, zombies, blood/gore, broken bones, scars, mentions of torture, lots of unaliving (think TWD lol), BUT...will still somehow have a happy ending because it's me :,)

Series Playlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

New chapters will be posted every week or so (I have fallen a little behind lol but am still actively working on this series so it will be finished). There will be a limited tag list, so please let me know if you would like to be added! Otherwise, you can follow my library blog @dreamlanddlibrary and turn on notifications to get updates when I post!

Gif by Malin 💖

Fun Stuff:

Moodboard by the fantastic treatbuckywkisses Fayth moodboards AMS tag

Divider by firefly-graphics

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blackcatner00 · 30 days ago

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All We’ve Got is Time - Masterlist

Summary: In a world where Bucky never falls off a train and Steve lives after crashing the plane, Bucky is trying to adjust to a new peace-time normal. Spring 1946, Reader starts a brand new typist position in one of the many New York office buildings after being displaced from her factory job once the war ended. An unconventional friendship starts which leads to all the romance and fluff.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: Window Washer!Bucky Barnes x Typist!Reader / If They’d Survived - The First Avenger AU

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

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blackcatner00 · 30 days ago

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plaything ⭒ part one

summary: bucky's innocence is just too much for you to resist

pairing: virgin!bucky x reader

word count: 3.3k

warnings: sub!bucky, swearing, blowjobs, reader can be construed as a lil dark but maybe that's just me

a/n: this part 1 of 2 so hope u enjoy the start of this mini series!

You’ve been waiting weeks for this, your body in a constant state of anxiety leading up to this moment. The doorbell rings, the sound filling your ears and making your stomach churn in anticipation, you take one deep breath before practically running down the stairs in the direction of the door.

Your breath hitches in your throat, heating pooling between your legs as you open the door and lay eyes on him.

He looks up at you, baby blue eyes staring deeply into you before his gaze travels south focusing on the way your cleavage pokes out of the dangerously short dress you wore just for him.

“Bucky, are you gonna come in?” you ask, smirking to yourself at the way the sight of your breasts peeking out of the thin material of your dress has him in a trance, stood still practically drooling in your doorway.

Pink dusts his cheeks, taking over his face at the realisation he’s been caught. Bucky drags his eyes up to your face, smiling sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “Hey, doll is your brother home?” he asks, now staring past you to look in the direction of the hallway.

You can’t help but feel deflated but then his eyes are on your cleavage again, his wet tongue sweeping across his lips and suddenly all you can picture is him on his knees devouring you. His tongue between your folds, the taste of you on his lips so sweet all he can do is moan.

You’re quickly swept out of your fantasies by the sound of your brother walking down the stairs, “Buck, when did you get here?” he asks bypassing you and slapping his down on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Just a second ago, I was surprised you didn’t answer the door,” Bucky said, eyes glancing over to you and back to your brother.

“Sorry, Buck I was on the phone to Sam, he was talking my ear off about this girl as usual,” your brother says making Bucky laugh and butterflies stir awake in your stomach, flying around as you focus on the melodic sound of Bucky’s laughter and the sight of his wide grin.

“You’re lucky you didn’t have to talk to Steve on the phone for 2 hours this morning because a girl at the coffee shop smiled at him and he was convinced it was love at first sight,” your brother and Bucky continue to mock their friends as they leave you in the hallway and head towards your brother’s room.

You take a deep breath, thoughts swirling in your head as you watch the retreating figure of Bucky. “Fuck!” you exclaim out loud, your stupid brother always had to ruin it. Every time you got close to Bucky, your brother always had to swoop in and take Bucky away. It wasn’t fair, you just wanted to talk to him, get close to enough to him that you can feel him, touch him.

Your head hangs low in defeat as you retreat to your room, thoughts of Bucky playing on loop in your head.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

You can’t quite believe you’re doing this, it’s a stupid little trick but if it means you’ll have Bucky’s full attention then you’ll do it, you’ll do anything to have him close to you. The last dress you wore had caught his attention, his eyes barely strayed from your breasts for the full two minutes you got alone with him before your brother interrupted. But this dress was sure to grab his attention and keep it.

Your brother had all his friends around, including Bucky so this was the perfect time for your plan.

One more look in the mirror and one small adjustment of your boobs and you’re ready to go.

They’re all in the backyard, it seems your brother’s small gathering and turned to a party which only aided in your plan. The moment you step foot in the backyard your eyes find Bucky’s muscular figure all alone and your body moves on its own accord walking towards him.

“Hey Bucky,” you say, placing a gentle hand on his arm eyes staring deep into his ocean blue ones.

A faint blush creeps up his neck but Bucky tries to keep his composure, “Hey doll, I thought parties weren’t your thing?” he says and the butterflies stir awake again, he remembered something about you.

“I’m not but I heard you were gonna be here so I thought I might leave my room,” it’s bold but you’ve had enough. It’s time to cut through the bullshit and get what you want: Bucky.

Bucky swallows thickly, the blush taking over his face and then his eyes travel down taking you in and he can barely breathe. He doesn’t speak, Bucky doesn’t trust himself to, all he can do is focus on your exposed skin, the slight glimpse of your hard nipples through the sheer material of your dress.

“Fuck!” Bucky mutters to himself but you hear him, confidence shooting through your veins.

Your hand finds its way to his chest before pulling your body close to his, Bucky groans as he feels the hardened peaks of your nipples against the thin material of the red henley he’s wearing.

“I missed you,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, your warm lips against his flesh make a shiver run down his spine. Bucky can’t quite believe what’s happening, he’s thought of you so many times, your body that’s so perfect it loops around in his mind constantly.

Am I dreaming? Bucky thinks to himself as he feels the warmth and wetness of your tongue slide across the flesh of his earlobe. He can barely contain the moan that settles on his tongue and sneaks out past his cherry pink lips.

The sound of Bucky’s moan goes straight to your core, igniting a fire and making your body hot to the touch. You smirk against the shell of his ear, hands sneaking under his shirt until the palm of your hand touches the soft flesh of his stomach.

Bucky’s never had somebody touch him like this or at all. Ever. This is too good to be true, like something out of a movie or something straight from his dreams. He can barely contain himself, he’s all too aware of the blood rushing to his cock and the fact that your body is pressed into him and if you get even an inch closer you’ll be able to feel the hardness of his cock against you. If it happens, it might just push him over the edge.

“Bucky,” you practically moan in his ear as you pull yourself closer to him feeling his hard cock against you.

Bucky instantly goes red as your body pulls into his, God! this is the most embarrassing thing to happen to me, he thinks as you pull back, a smirk gracing your features.

Bucky goes to say something, anything that will result in you not laughing at him or running to tell your brother what pervert he is but then your palm is discreetly against his cock and he chokes on air.

“You’re so hard, sweetie,” you say chuckling darkly as you feel his cock grow harder underneath your palm.

Bucky’s hip thrusts forward as you squeeze his clothed cock and a long deep groan leaves his lips. He’s red as a tomato, every inch of his pale face transformed with his deep blush. Bucky is embarrassed to his core but more than anything he’s horny and touch starved and needy for you.

“Fuck!” Bucky breathes out as your palm leaves his cock, he has to stop himself from whining at the loss of contact with fear of completely embarrassing himself.

Your smiling at him as he looks upon you, “It’s okay, sweetie,” you coo, pressing your hand to his cheek stroking it a few times as Bucky breathes heavily trying to control himself and these new foreign feelings he’s never felt before.

Bucky nods, eyes looking around to see if anybody’s noticed or heard him but everybody’s far too drunk and engrossed in their own conversations to notice their whiny rock hard friend.

“How about you let me take care of that, it looks awfully painful,” you say innocently, eyes wide looking up at him.

Bucky can’t speak, he doesn’t trust himself to string together a coherent sentence; all he can do is nod frantically. His mind swirls with images and thoughts of you, he wants to worship you, if you’ll let him.

“Come to my room, in 5 minutes,” you say leaning in closer to him again before pressing a kiss to his neck and Bucky just can’t help himself, a moan tears itself from his lips that he wants so desperately to be on his.

You leave him, he can still faintly feel your palm squeezed against his cock and it sends rounds of aftershocks through his body. Bucky runs a hand through his hair taking a deep breath before adjusting himself, trying to make his boner less noticeable, the last thing he wants is to be teased about this by Steve, Sam and your brother for the rest of eternity.

Once Bucky’s sure his cock is under control, he leaves the party in a ball of anxiety and excitement.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

“Oh Fuck!” Bucky’s a goner. His cock’s painfully hard, straining against the material of his boxers. His hand finds the hardness of his cock, clutching and rubbing it as his eyes never leave you.

His hips buck wildly into his hand as he squeezes his clothed cock, his eyes pressed shut as he tips his head back in ecstasy. His eyes snap open quickly as he hears the sound of your breathy moan.

Bucky takes you in again and he’s suddenly breathless. When he walked into your bedroom he didn’t know what to expect and he certainly didn’t expect to see you spread out on your bed clad in skimpy black lace lingerie.

“Look at you sweetie,” you coo coming to sit on your knees smirking up at him as he lets out a string of small whimpers. “You’re so hard,” you coo again, laughing as his cheeks go red with blush.

“Please do something,” he whines making you chuckle darkly.

“What do you want, sweetie?” you say, getting off the bed to stand in front of him, hands sliding under his shirt against the taut skin of his abdominals.

Bucky’s blue eyes stare into yours silently pleading you to do anything. It’s beautiful, the way he’s already begging for your touch, it’s laughable just how needy he is. You had your suspicions about him, listened in to more than a few conversations he’s had with your brother and then one day he was in the yard with Steve, Sam and your brother and your suspicions were confirmed.

“Buck, Jesus!” You hear Steve exclaim as your brother and Sam laugh in unison at whatever Bucky has said before. You didn’t catch his words, only listening once you heard a roar of laughter come from outside your open bedroom window.

There’s nothing but laughter for minutes, you even hear Steve’s distinct deep rumbly laugh join in at some point.

“Seriously, Steve? I thought you’d be the only one who’d have my back,” Bucky exseparates and you even hear a loud sigh leave his lips.

Your ears perk up as you hear Bucky talk, the boy had been the object of your attention for some time now so you can’t help but be quiet and intently listen as Steve replies.

“I do Bucky but I’m just surprised. I thought you and that girl Dot had done it,” Steve says.

There’s a long pause before Bucky replies, “We were going to but then as it was about to happen I got nervous and scared and backed out of it.”

“So you didn’t fuck her?” Sam asks and your breath hitches.

“No,” Bucky sighs. You can’t help the smile that spread across your face at his words.

“Did you guys do anything?” your brother asks and you find yourself moving closer to your window to make sure you don’t miss anything.

“We made out a couple of times but that was it,” Bucky says and to be honest you weren’t entirely shocked, Bucky was so adorable and shy.

“So what you’re telling me is, you’re a virgin?” Sam exclaims. The thought had crossed your mind a few times but you never thought it could be true.

Steve’s words linger in the air but the silence confirms what you had already suspected, Bucky Barnes, your brother’s best friend and the boy you want in between your legs is a virgin.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Bucky’s whines pull you out of your memories, your eyes rake over him, his fingers are clutching at his long hair in frustration and he’s jittering around full of nerves.

“It’s okay sweetie, let me take care of you,” you coo, hands running below the line of his shirt, dipping towards his achingly hard cock. The moment Bucky feels your palm across the rough material of his denim jeans, he moans, the sound filling your eyes soaking your panties.

“God you’re so perfect,” you whisper as you press hard against his cock, your lips find the flesh of your neck, kissing it softly. The warmth of your lips on his skin and the way you’re massaging his cock is too much for him, nobody’s ever touched him like this and it feels too good to be true.

“I want my lips wrapped your cock, do you want that?” you ask innocently against his skin and Bucky lets out an obscene grown at your words. He didn’t think it was possible to be this hard, this horny, this desperate and this needy.

“I-,” he starts to say but you cut him off by pressing your fingers against his warm pink lips.

One hand undoes the zipper of his jeans whilst you go back to pressing kisses to his neck and jaw delighting in the way Bucky’s body shudders in response. Your lips find his ear, “It’s okay sweetie, I know nobody’s touched you there before but it’s okay, I’m gonna take real good care of you,” you coo before a delicate kiss to the shell of his ear. Bucky’s too dazed to even realise what you said, to realise you knew the truth about him.

You drop to your knees, pulling his jeans and boxers down. Your mouth instantly waters at the sight of his thick cock, you can’t help yourself but say, “God, you’re so big.” Bucky instantly goes a deep shade of pink at your words.

Your warm hand wraps around his cock and Bucky swears he’s died and gone to heaven. All he can think about is why he’s never done this before because even just this one touch feels like complete pure bliss.

You give his cock a few pumps, wetness pooling between your legs at the sweet sound of Bucky’s moans. He’s so loud and whiny, you just want to take care of him and watch him as he begs you to let him cum.

“Are you ready, sweetie?” you ask looking up at him.

“Fuck, please,” he begs and you take mercy on him, giving him exactly what he wants.

The moment your tongue touches his cock, Bucky’s a goner, a loud lewd moan falling from his lips. You smile at the silky sweet sound before your attention goes back to the precum leaking from his cock. Your wet, warm lips attach around his tip and Bucky uses all of his strength not to moan so loudly everybody outside will hear him.

Bucky didn’t know pleasure like this could ever exist, the way you’re lapping and licking up the precum steadily oozing from his cock just feels so good. “Holy fuck!” Bucky breathes out, hands balled up into fists, the veins in his arms popping as he tries to control himself. Bucky doesn’t want to embarrass himself by cumming in your mouth immediately but the moment you hollow your cheeks, half of his cock in the wetness of your mouth and one of your hands now playing with his balls; Bucky knows he won’t be able to control himself much longer.

Bucky’s moans turn to needy high pitched whimpers and whines, thighs shaking and the veins in his popping so much they look as they are about to burst. The sight has your lace panties soaking wet.

It doesn’t surprise you when seconds later, Bucky is cumming down your throat. He tries to pull away but you want every last drop of him on your tongue. “Fuck! Oh shit!” he practically cries as he cums.

You pull off him with an audible pop and Bucky looks like he’s about to collapse, he’s essentially crying as he tries to recover. “You did so good for me,” you coo, hands running up and down his thigh to comfort him.

The sound of your praise brings back to reality, his blue eyes snapping open and peering down at you. “I did? You liked it?” he asks timidly and you can’t help but smile up at him, he’s so naive.

“Of course, you were such a good boy for me. You tasted so good,” you say, pressing a small kiss to the flesh of his meaty thighs.

You stand up, arms wrapping around his waist as you lean forward. “You wanna see how good taste?” you ask and Bucky finds himself nodding without even realising. One hand comes to cup his chin, pressing hard so his mouth opens and then you’re spitting in his mouth watching the way his whole face turns red.

“Now swallow!” and just like that, he does exactly what he’s told.

You watch in pure delight as he swallows a mix of your saliva and his cum. “How do you taste, sweetie?” you ask.

“Good,” he moans before you press your lips against his. You lead the kiss, knowing that Bucky whether or not he realises, needs you to take control and teach and show him. He moans lewdly, the sounds swallowed by your lips on his. Your tongue moves languidly and Bucky surrenders himself to you. He’s at your mercy, just exactly where you want him.

You pull back and Bucky’s eyes are blown with lust and his lips red and puffy.

You go to speak but then the sound of Sam cuts you off from behind the door, “Yo, Y/N have you seen Bucky?”

“No, check the bathroom,” you shout back and listen intently as the sound of Sam’s steps retreat away from your door.

Bucky’s red as a strawberry, embarrassed at nearly being caught by Sam. “I-I better go,” Bucky stutters out, pulling up his boxers and jeans quickly. You watch in amusement as he tries to gather and collect himself.

“You’re leaving so soon?” you ask, fingers trailing down your cleavage, Bucky’s blue eyes don’t leave your body, his eyes following your finger.

“I should go,” he mutters starting to move but your hands wrap around his waist stopping him from leaving.

“You didn’t have fun?” you ask, giving those doe eyes that go straight to his cock.

“I did, I promise but..” his hands find the back of his neck scratching the skin as his head drops to look at the floor. “But what, sweetie?” you coo.

“I’m a virgin,” Bucky says quietly, his eyes still focused on the ground too embarrassed to look up at you.

You pull his chin up, your eyes staring into his blue ones. “That’s okay sweetie, I know, you’re such a good, sweet boy,” you coo, hands stroking his warm cheeks as you smile at him.

“You can go but not before promising me something,” you say.

“What?”

“Promise me you’ll let me play with you again,” you ask, sticking your pinky finger out, Bucky’s pink curls around yours as he nods, his face flush with heat and redder than strawberry.

“Good boy, I’ll be in touch,” you say, unfurling your pinky from him and watching him scutter away back to the party. Whilst he walks away you can only think of one thing - all the ways you’re gonna fuck him so good he’s reduced to tears.

PART TWO

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