#Bucky Barnes/OMC

[sgt-seabass]

𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒅

✧˚ · . a collaboration between @navybrat817 and sgt-seabass

I just wanna see you bleed. Open you and set you free. (x)

pairing — bucky barnes x fem!reader w/c — 9.7k this is a dark fic. 18+ only. listening to —♫disaster

part of the Vengeance AU previous part - 𝑬𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅

warnings — bucky barnes is going through it, dark fic, the reader is having a hard time mentally (.... totally not self inserting heh), violence, slapping, spanking, use of a gun to threaten, non-consensual connotations and threats (nothing actually happens), mild mention of blood and injury, captivity, forced drugging via injection a/n — sorry this took so long. depression is a bitch. thank you navy for putting up with my delays!

The thing about love is that it comes with risks. And the biggest risk of all is loss, for a heart that does not yearn for another never truly knows the meaning of catastrophic loss until grief visits them. 

Love was still worth it to Bucky. Even with his wrenching heart and endless tears, the tenderness he shared with you was something that no one could steal or decimate. While the assailants had trashed your shared home, they could never take the memories - the feeling of your deft fingers brushing across his skin, the bright smiles you’d gift him, and the unwavering silent support that always held him upright. 

Bucky was a man because you motivated him to be his best self. He was no longer a ghost, a nightmare, a mirage of misery - he was human. 

You were gone. And there would be nothing stopping him from getting you back. 

It had been three days since you’d been taken, and frustratingly, Bucky felt no closer to finding you than the day when he’d first found the ruins of the apartment. He’d moved back into the tower with Alpine, taking up refuge in his old compound apartment. It was kept the same, like he’d never left. And he felt the same as when he’d lived there last – lost.

The whole team had become involved in finding you. You were family to all of them. And no one gets away with fucking with the family of the Avengers.

Bucky sighed and impatiently tapped his foot against the floor as he waited in the meeting room with Steve, Natasha, and Sam. Tony had been working on a reconstruction of what happened in the apartment since the security cameras were somehow turned off before the assailant’s arrival.

It was a planned hit; that much was clear. But they needed the rest of the details of what happened to know what they were looking at.

The room was silent. What could anyone say that hadn’t already been said? Bucky’s friends had already assured him they’d get you back safely, but those were empty promises said just to stop him from throwing himself off the top of the compound.

Bucky stared at the blank white wall ahead of him while his mind spiralled. This was his fault. If you were dead, that blood was on his hands. He should have known of the threat – had some inkling that this was coming. But he was completely blind-sighted. There was no indication that there was an incoming attack.

“Move the table to the side so we have room,” Tony commanded as he entered, his usual quips missing – quips that always made you laugh and smile, brightening the room with your aura.

“Hello to you too, Tony,” Sam said, assisting Bucky and Steve in pushing the meeting room table to the side so there was some floor space for Tony’s visualisation tool.

“Do you think she’s alive? Could she have survived the attack?” Were the first words out of Bucky’s mouth, his voice strained from the amount of crying he’d been doing.

“Yeah, I think she’s alive. Are you sure you want to see this, Barnes? It’s�� It’s pretty brutal, even for your standards,” Tony sniped, earning a stern look from Steve. Bucky didn’t care, though; it was a fair enough jab when he’d been the one to kill Tony’s parents.

“Real smooth, Tony,” Natasha scoffed, crossing her arms.

Bucky set the awkward air aside. They weren’t going to get anywhere otherwise. “I need to see it.”

“Maybe you should wait outside, Buck—” Steve started, but Bucky raised his hand to shut him up.

“Don’t coddle me. I need to see it.”

Steve just put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze while Tony set up his small projection device.

Nothing could have prepared Bucky for the image that greeted him. There you were, or at least, an apparition of you. He wanted to reach out and touch it, but he held himself back. What he couldn’t stop were the tears that welled in his eyes. What if this was the last time he ever saw you? You already looked like a ghost in the odd blue hue of the technology.

Bucky gulped, his breaths coming out thick as you started moving from the bedroom to the shower. It played out like a macabre movie. Three assailants entered the apartment through the front door.

“They had keys?” Natasha asked, and Tony nodded in response.

Sam partially looked away when the assault began, Natasha and Steve’s faces hardening while Bucky had tears tracking down his cheeks. You fought hard, and Bucky couldn’t feel any prouder. You were his light – his fire, and you fought with every morsel of energy you had.

Tony was right – the ordeal was brutal and cruel. These men didn’t just kidnap you; they tormented you. This was personal.

“Any forensics?” Steve asked, his voice shaky.

“None. Whoever they are, they’re professionals,” Tony leant against the table. “And they clearly have a vendetta. Any enemies that stand out, Barnes?”

“Hydra is always top of the list.” Just the mention of the name had everyone in the room shuddering. Hydra had already done so much damage.

“Hydra fell when S.H.I.E.L.D did. They’re gone,” Sam reclined against the wall, hand rubbing nervously over his jaw, the same spot Rumlow had got a good hit on him during their fight at the Triskelion.

“You’re naive if you think that would get rid of them.” Natasha walked up to the projection, zooming in on the word you’d written on the ground. Blonde. “Although I don’t remember any of our known enemies being blonde.”

“Pierce was blonde.” Steve suggested.

Tony shook his head. “He was grey. And I highly doubt he’d be breaking into an apartment, seeing as he’s got a bullet-sized hole in his chest. Plus, he was an old fucker.”

Bucky forced himself to watch the whole recreation, eyes not straying for a moment as he searched for anything he was missing. It was a carefully executed but merciless attack. Tony was right; it seemed you’d survive physically, but what about your mind?

Bucky could hardly bear to think about what they were doing with you now they had you alone.

With you passed out on the floor, Bucky watched as the men bundled you up in a sheet to carry your bloody mess of a body out in. “There were no drag marks?”

Tony shrugged. “Nope. They carried her.” 

“Did no neighbours report anything?”

“It was early morning, so most had already left for work, and anyone who did see something aren’t coming forward. People these days aren’t keen on being a snitch since that puts a target on their backs,” Sam delivered sadly. To a degree, Bucky understood, but at the same time, he wanted to question every person in the damn building.

Realistically, his efforts would be better placed searching through viable intelligence sources. The more reliable the information, the better. These guys would have had to make some noise somewhere, and Bucky intended to find where.

“I’ll ask Maria to get the analysts onto where they might have gone. They’ll check every car that was spotted in the area if they have to. And we’ll see what we can get off the surrounding cell towers. If we’re lucky, they pinged off one of them. They can’t have just disappeared with her,” Natasha’s voice turned clinical. It was easier to be strategic without the emotional strings attached.

Steve nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Check all private flights and airspace as well. I expect they’ve left the country and gone somewhere harder to track. The fact they went to this effort and didn’t kill her outright means they have a use for her, which means she’s still alive.”

“Until that use runs out,” Bucky cut Steve off, his jaw twinging with how hard he clenched his teeth. “Then they’ll kill her.”

“We’ll find her before then, Buck.”

“We have to. She’s taken my heart with her.”

You’d been lucky in your life that you’d been sheltered from physical pain. You’d known grief, sadness, all the usual trials of life. But this level of absolute anguish was new. 

You were thankful you’d gone this long not knowing what it felt like to fear an impending death.

What even was death? An endless nothing? A light at the end of the tunnel? A world where you’re reunited with all those souls that had already left? Either way, it was the cessation of suffering. You can’t suffer when you don’t exist. 

Days had passed since your capture, and a routine had set in. In your dank, mossy-smelling cell, you ate, stretched, slept, shit, and brushed your teeth - a macabre rinse and repeat that had your mind dulling. You prided yourself in being creative, so having no stimuli apart from grey walls and odd smells was a special kind of torture.

Your captors left you alone for the most part. You only saw them when they delivered meals and your toothbrush, and even then, sometimes, they’d just slide the items through a small hatch in the bottom of the door, expecting you to return the items promptly.

Damien or Maddox would often leave with some snide remark, while Kage never said anything.

The thought of fighting back had crossed your mind, although you couldn’t do much with them watching, the blinking red light of a camera in the corner of your room a constant reminder that you were not alone.

Bucky would be closing in by now, right? Each time you heard steps coming to your enclosure, a morsel of hope would flourish like a blooming flower. And each time, those beautiful flowers had their heads sliced off. The disappointment was clear on your face each time, and a small whine would escape, normally ending in you devolving into a pit of tears.

Crying was the only solace. 

As the days had passed, you began to fear the opening of the door, because you expected death with his scythe and billowing black mist to be there waiting to cut off your head, like the way your hope had been deflowered.

Today was the same as all the others. Pain, tears, and acute loneliness all present. You sat on your cot with your legs to your chest, bandaged feet resting on the mattress so you could cry against your knees. Your wounds were healing slowly, bloody bandages changed by Kage each day, while your heart continued to break.

The wall vibrated subtly as music began playing upstairs, the reverberations traveling all the way down to your cell. You were underground, that much you had gathered. After your dinner, you would hear the music begin to play. You weren’t sure what they were doing up there, but you never heard any additional voices, so you assumed your captors were alone. Although, there could easily be a thick layer of concrete separating your roof from their floor, so you just might not be able to hear it.

All you did know was the music normally meant it was time to try and sleep. You had no sunlight, so you had to rely on the meals and music as your clock. You could have an opposite sleeping schedule for all you knew, but the men never said anything of it, so you assumed your intuition was right.

With a heavy sigh, you lay down, covered in an oversized t-shirt and cotton panties. It was cold, but with nothing more than a thin blanket, so you had no choice but to shiver and bear it.

The vibrations in the wall made a white noise that filled the room, and you preferred that over the silence. You couldn’t hear the music, so you liked to try to imagine what song it might be based on the tempo. 

You smiled to yourself as you placed your hand against the wall. Whatever it was, you knew Bucky would hate it. Deep bass beats were never his style. While you liked to imagine your boyfriend as John Wick, fighting along to electronic music, you knew the reality was far more grim. 

Thinking of Bucky, your eyes started to get heavy, and you slowly fell asleep.

It wasn’t a peaceful slumber, but it was rest - something you tried to get every chance you could. You didn’t know when you’d need your strength, so you tried to reserve it. 

And as it turned out, a situation requiring your strength was around the corner much sooner than you had expected.

The door to your cell swung open, and the loud sound had you shooting up with a squeak and wide eyes, no remnants of sleep in your mind as adrenaline surged through your veins. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight you’d be met with.

It was Damien who spoke first as they entered. “We caught ourselves a new pet. I have to say, this one seems much less fuckable than you.”

“Bucky,” you gasped, mostly in disbelief.

It wasn’t the rescue you’d dreamed of. Bucky hadn’t come in guns blazing and a smile of relief on his face.

No, Bucky was slumped, his metal shoulder being carried by Maddox and the other by Damien, while his legs dragged across the floor behind him and his arms were secured behind his back. He was dressed in his tactical gear like he’d come with the intention to save you. His face was bloodied and ashen, his hair sickly sticking to his forehead, and to your horror, there was a muzzle placed over the lower half of his face. You’d seen a picture of Bucky from when he was a soldier when you’d accidentally walked into a briefing room in the compound, his face scattered among others you didn’t recognise. But seeing him like that in the flesh was something else entirely.

You jumped up from the bed, ready to run to him, but Kage was by your side before you could act. He placed his hand on your collarbone, warning you to stay in place. “Your face is priceless.”

You couldn’t even feel the pain in your feet, as if the wounds were never there, as you whimpered at the sight of your lover.

“Bucky, are you alright? Bucky. Oh god.” You tried to move, but Kage’s hand gripped your forearm painfully, his digits digging in and leaving divots. Bucky tried to speak beneath the mask, but only muffled sounds came out. “No, please, don’t hurt him.”

“Bit late for that, don’t you think?” Maddox grinned, the pride clear as day on his face. “The mutt put up a fight, I’ll give it that. But it failed. That must really suck for you.”

They spoke like he wasn’t even a man. Not even a dog. Just an annoyance - a hindrance.

Damien and Maddox dumped Bucky on his knees a few steps from you. And that’s when he finally looked up. It was like he hadn’t wanted to accept that was your voice he heard, but once he set eyes on you, that was it. 

The dams broke, and both of you resolved into tears. “No, this isn’t real. This can’t be happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening.” Damien kicked Bucky’s back, sending him lurching forward, his cheek painfully hitting the concrete floor. The pained sounds that came from your boyfriend would haunt you for the rest of your life.

“Stop it!” You yelled, Bucky’s whimpers too much for you to handle. He was trying so desperately to speak, to move, but they’d beaten him badly and secured his metal arm away with vibranium cuffs. 

It didn’t stop him from trying though. Bucky rose to his feet, swinging his weight around so he could roundhouse kick towards Maddox and Damien. Maddox was faster though, pushing Damien out of the way and catching Bucky’s leg. 

There was a sick crunch when Maddox tripped Bucky’s stable left leg, his body buckling to the floor while Maddox held his right leg, allowing the joint at his hip to fold into an odd position before Bucky hit the floor on his side. He withered with a pained groan, while Damien took the chance to kick him in the stomach. It was like watching the most morbid film play out in front of you, and all you wanted to do was hold Bucky and tell him it was going to be okay. But the thing was, you never lied to him. And you had no plan to start now.

You tried desperately to wrench yourself from Kage’s grip, but instead he yanked your back to his chest, placing his arm across your belly so you were held uncomfortably against him. “He failed you. Do you think he still thinks this is all worth it? Or do you think he should have just left you to rot?” 

It was the most Kage had ever spoken to you, as if Bucky’s mere presence brought out a vitriol he kept hidden.

You shook your head, desperate to reject the baseless accusations. Even with his mouth covered, you could see in his expression alone the love Bucky held for you. You would never stop believing in him, even in death. “He hasn’t failed me,“ you gritted out, tears tracking down your cheeks. “He could never fail me.”

A sense of realisation took over you, the cogs turning as you looked upon your beaten lover. You’d wished for him to rescue you, to take you away from the pain and shield you from any further torment. But in doing so, you’d denied that Bucky was vulnerable - that he was the human you so dearly loved - made of flesh and blood and so dearly mortal. By placing him on the pedestal of a hero, you denied him his sensitivities, his feelings. You’d made him impuissant through your view of him as an impregnable force. You forgot that he is but a thing of atoms and material, so easily broken.

It was due to your expectations that he lay on the ground before you, bleeding and crying. Because he knew you were waiting for him. And here he was - just not in the way you had hoped. Now, hope was but a bird with broken wings, ready for death and the conclusion of existence. It was time for it to be put out of its acute misery. And it was time for you to mature and take responsibility for your future. 

“The only person who can save me is myself. It’s my path to take, not his,” your words came out shuddered, your hand raising to cover your mouth to try and hide your sob. It did little to muffle the sound as your eyes met the familiar cerulean blues. “Bucky. It’s fine.”

Damien pulled the muzzle from his face, and Bucky allowed a deep breath for what seemed like the first time in hours. “You have me, just let her go.”

Maddox laughed, shaking his head as he ruffled Bucky’s hair. “Trying to be noble, huh?” His fingers looped in the sweat-drenched strands, roughly pulling Bucky’s head back as he whimpered. “Do we look like we’re going to let her go?”

“She’s innocent in this, please,” Bucky begged, blood trickling down from his hairline as he squirmed on the cold floor. It was a painful, pitiful sight. “Keep me, but let her go.”

“Why would we when we can have some fun? She’s so pretty when she cries. The perfect toy for us to play with,” Kage husked, the hand on your stomach starting to dip lower towards your dignity.

You slapped his hand, an action which gained you a violent response. Kage threw you to your knees, the impact causing your bones to quiver and your cries to fill the room. You had to be strong, you had to be strong - the mantra didn’t help much as Bucky snarled protectively. “You touch her, and I’ll fucking kill you. I swear I’ll–”

“You keep running that mouth of yours, and it’s her we’ll punish,” Maddox gripped Bucky’s chin between his fingers, before spitting in his face.

“Please, I’m begging you. She’s just a normal girl, she’s innocent–”

“She’s not going to be so innocent when she has our cocks shoved down her throat.” Damien approached you, eyes raking your barely covered form. You stunk after days of not bathing, but that seemed like the least of their concerns.

“I can see why you picked her. She’s so much fun to have around.” Maddox forced Bucky’s viewline to you, arching his head on an awkward angle with the fingers tangled in his locks.

“You don’t own her,” Bucky rasped. “No one does.”

Maddox hummed with a shake of his head. ”That’s where you’re wrong. We all have our masters. Now we’re hers.”

"I will fucking kill you," Bucky snarled, trying to get off the floor, trying so desperately to fight. But he was easily subdued by Maddox in his weakened state.

Damien turned to your boyfriend with a smirk. "Not before we fill up each of her holes. So why don't you sit back and enjoy the show? Be a good boy now. Wouldn't want to have to muzzle you… again."

"We're going to enjoy breaking her," Maddox teased, his face getting close to Bucky’s, a staring contest of will beginning between the two. A contest that Bucky quickly lost when Maddox punched him in the gut. ”While you have your own appeal, I don’t fuck mutts.”

It was hard to process the scene playing out in front of you - the taunting, the threats, the hurt. It was too much to bear. You just wanted to be in Bucky’s arms again and have him tell you it was all okay.

But no, you had to be strong. “Please, don’t hurt him anymore. I’ll… I’ll do whatever you want.”

Kage held you firm, his free hand reaching up from behind to grab your jaw painfully. He didn’t speak, but you could feel his hot huff of breath against your ear, the remnants of a growl in it.

“You’ll do whatever we want regardless,” Damien commented, searching your face and soaking up all the emotion he could find.

Maddox left Bucky battered on the ground, but not without one more kick, this time to the underside of his jaw. Bucky’s head snapped back, a crack sounding as his teeth slammed together in the forced movement. 

You screamed, Kage and Damien’s hands beginning to roam across your body, feeling you like you were theirs. But it was like you couldn’t even see the three men anymore - just Bucky. Your vision had tunnelled to the focus on the one thing you cared about.

“Bucky! Are you alright? Bucky, please!” You couldn’t look away as his head lolled sickly, blood pouring from his mouth and nose. 

The hands keep moving over you, nausea roiling in your gut with each passing moment. But you still only focussed on Bucky. “Bucky, please. Bucky. You’ve got to get out of here. Somehow. Just go, please.”

The cell door was cracked open. He could logically make a run for it. But you knew he wouldn’t, not in his current state, and not without you. Maybe Steve was on his way? But you knew Bucky wouldn’t look so crestfallen if help was coming. 

“Please, Bucky.” You cried, not even sure what you were asking for at this point, all you could do was scream his name.

The more you yelled for him, the more you chanted his name like the only prayer you knew, the more the world began to warble. 

Bucky’s form began to waver, as did the rest of the room. Maddox, Damien and Kage had frozen in their assault, their skin rippling as your breath suddenly fell short.

What was happening? You couldn’t scream for Bucky anymore - you couldn’t do anything, as if your mouth had been glued shut.

As your tears fell and sobs bubbled from your throat, the world dissolved.

The nightmare was ending, allowing leeway for the real horrors to become apparent.

You woke for real this time with a jolt, your sounds muffled by the tape over your lips. You were sobbing just like you had been in your dream, and as you took stock of the room you quickly realised Bucky wasn’t here. It had been a horrible nightmare.

What was real, was Maddox towering over you, a roll of tape discarded on the ground and his gun to your head. He looked the angriest you’d ever seen, salivating and almost frothing at the mouth. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

The tears started falling faster as you screamed against the tape, but it did little to quell Maddox. He forced each end of the tape down, the gun in his hand coldly pressing against your cheek. 

“Say his name again, I dare you. I'm not going to cut your tongue out. I'll fucking rip it out,” he growled, his words mouthed against your face and over your bound lips. His spit smeared over your skin, the heat of it warming where the metal of the gun had cooled.

All you could smell, see and hear was him. It was an overwhelming sensation that had you wanting to escape.

You writhed, but you couldn’t get away from him as he caged you in, kissing over your mouth again in a show of control, not endearment. He could take what he wanted from you whenever he wanted. You screamed and squirmed, but Maddox held you in place before ripping the tape off, allowing you to finally breathe in the musky basement air. “This fucking mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.”

“W-What did I—“ Your heart nearly broke through your ribcage with how hard it was beating as Maddox forced the barrel of his handgun into your mouth, the metal sitting against your tongue and leaving a horrible taste. 

The struggle stopped, and you looked into Maddox’s eyes. The malice was pertifying. It wasn’t the same look he’d had during the assault in your apartment; no. It was worse. He was going to kill you.

His thumb moved in one swift motion to click the safety off, his finger resting on the trigger. “Say goodbye.”

You closed your eyes, fear clutching your heart and what felt like concrete in your lungs. You didn’t want Maddox’s face to be the last thing you saw, so you thought of when you and Bucky had adopted Alpine.

She had been found on the streets as a stray, only a year old with matted hair and a little injured paw. You’d both fallen in love with her, and nursed her into the ball of chaotic floof she was today. You thought of the moment where you first brought her home. She stayed in her carrier after the door had opened, too scared to venture out. So you and Bucky sat on the floor, cuddling and talking while Alpine slowly came out, before sitting next to you both. It was so peaceful. Such a small moment changed the trajectory of your life. It was those pockets of happiness you cherished the most.

You waited for the bang, the flash, the quick pain before the nothingness. But it didn’t come.

Instead, you heard rushed steps and yells before Maddox was hauled off you, the brunette slipping the safety back on as he let the other two pull him back. 

“What the fuck?” Damien snapped, a commotion starting.

But it was like water was in your ears as you stared up at the ceiling from your bed, the chain secured around your ankle rattling with the way your body couldn’t stop shaking. Your arms covered your torso, and it took you what felt like forever to open your eyes.

“She was calling for him! For that bastard!” Maddox yelled, and it was then you turned your head to look at him.

“What, so you were going to kill her? Mads! Stop! We just got her!” Damien grabbed Maddox by the shoulders, shaking him like it would bring him to his senses.

"One simple fucking rule. Don't ask to go back to him. She was wailing like a fucking banshee."

Kage was the only controlled one, ushering Damien out of the way so he could take Maddox’s face into his hands. “You’re not back there. You’re not being compared to him, not being tested on. Stop. You’re here, and you almost just killed her.”

“She. Called. For. Him,” Maddox said through gritted teeth.

Damien glanced over at you, and it made you curl a little closer to the wall. "She didn't mean to, Mads. You know she didn't. Just breathe. Come on.”

It didn’t stop Maddox from spitting on the ground, his breaths coming out in adrenaline fueled shudders. “That piece of shit. I bet he bragged to her. I bet she fucking knows everything he did and is playing stupid.” With Kage holding him, his sightline turned to you. ”You’re pretending like you have no idea what he’s done, aren’t you? You dumb fucking bitch!”

“You know that’s not what’s happening,” Kage quickly reasoned with Maddox’s face still between his palms. It was clear there was a brother-like bond between the three of them. It would be nice, if the context of the situation didn’t exist. If anything, it made you more scared of them.

The fear had your body feeling frail, and it took you a few tries before you could sit up on your cot. “W-Whatever I did… I’m sorry. I don’t k-know what’s happening.”

Even you were caught off guard with the weakness in your voice, but the apology did nothing to appease Maddox. In fact, it incited the flame again. He broke free of Kage’s hold, and you didn’t have time to defend yourself before he smacked you hard across the face, the sound resonating like a sick echo in the cell.

The pain came a few seconds later, a sharp sting spreading across your face as you sobbed.

“You fucking bitch. You think this is funny, don’t you? Playing the innocent act just so you can fucking laugh at me once I’m gone.” He was trying to goad you into something you weren’t. You wore no mask, obscured no part of yourself. You were just you. And in a world where so many people lied and deceived, you could understand where the line of thought had come from. But Maddox couldn’t be more wrong about you.

What was it he had against Bucky anyway? There was clearly history you were missing, some big piece of the puzzle that had been hidden.

You didn’t get a chance to respond before Damien was tugging him back, taking the gun from him and pulling him away. “Mads, you’re triggered. That’s enough. You’re not yourself.”

For a moment, you could swear there were unshed tears in Maddox’s eyes, but didn’t get the chance to tell before Damien had pulled him from the room, leaving you alone with Kage.

There was a long silence for a moment, just your cries as your hand rested on your throbbing cheek, with Kage standing by in thought. He looked to you, his icy stare not helping you calm down. “I’m going to have to punish you.”

You could still hear Maddox yelling as you rubbed your cheek, and when Maddox’s voice finally faded you curled your knees up to your chest, your sobs shaking you. Maddox would have killed you if they hadn’t intervened, but now you were going to be punished. It was cruel. “What did I do?”

“You broke a rule. You called for him. Subconscious or not, every part of you has to learn the consequences.” Kage rolled up his sleeves, crossing his arms. It was clear his conviction was settled, and there would be no point bartering. “First, you’re going to shower. You’ve pissed yourself.”

Fresh tears filled your eyes when you looked down and realised Kage wasn’t lying. The sheets stuck uncomfortably to your legs and panties, the hem of your shirt soaked. You weren’t even sure when it happened, having been so caught up in the nightmare and then Maddox’s rage. Your fingers gripped the edge of the mattress, head hanging so you didn’t have to look at Kage.

Part of you wasn’t even sure if you were humiliated. They’d stripped you so bare you didn’t have much left, not even the dignity that would be hurt from something like this. More than anything, you cursed yourself for not being braver.

You had to hold your own if you were going to survive.

Words failed you when Kage took your arm to stand you up, and you didn’t say a word as he released your chains started to lead you from the room. 

It was a slow walk as you hobbled on your injured feet, but it was clear Kage had no intention of carrying you as he walked a few steps ahead. He’d let go of his hold, so confident that you’d follow him that he didn’t even look back. You knew he’d overpower you without even breaking a sweat if you tried anything, and you didn’t have the energy to fight.

You were surprised to see the underground was more than just your room, with a small hallway connecting you to a large shower room. You assumed there must be more cells, because there were multiple shower heads and a few random lockers. Almost as if it was a prisoner gym shower. It was odd, and you cautiously stepped forward.

Kage just ushered you towards the shower, crossing his arms as he watched you limp onto the tiled surface. You went to take off your bandages, but he cleared his throat and shook his head. Flustered, you moved to your shirt and underwear instead, turning away from him as you stripped bare and dumped the soiled clothing on the floor.

You cautiously stepped forward to turn the shower on, shuddering when the cold water began pouring out. There was only one tap, and no indication that the water was getting warmer, so you turned back to your captor. “There’s no hot water?”

There was no response from Kage, just a stare that told you all you needed to know, as if he was silently saying ‘get on with it’.

You shivered as you stood under the cold stream. When the water washed over your face, it was like you were back in your apartment all over again, and you let out a panicked gasp before stepping back.

The way your body shook wasn’t only from the cold.

With a bated breath, you glanced back at Kage. But he was no closer. He wasn’t going to pull you out, going to attack you, it seemed. The danger still loomed, memories of your assault fresh in your mind.

You returned to the water, washing yourself off as you could feel Kage’s gaze burning into you, as if he was studying each of your movements. He finally moved when the water shut itself off, pointing to a grey towel that was the same dull colour as the rest of the basement.

The last remaining water droplets blinked from your vision as you stepped forward, taking the towel and beginning to dry off. You glanced around, frowning when you saw there were no fresh clothes. 

“Uhm… clothes?” You asked hopefully, to which Kage shook his head. It wasn’t surprising, but it was upsetting.

As you ran the towel across your skin, you couldn’t rid of the nagging question that was plaguing your mind. “Why didn’t you just let him kill me?”

“He doesn’t need the guilt,” Kage finally spoke, but his answer only made your brows furrow.

“Why would he feel guilty for getting rid of someone who doesn’t matter?” It was conflicting information. They’d said you were nothing while in your apartment, and had treated you as such. But of course, you weren’t given an answer. Instead, Kage began leading you back to your room, your waterlogged bandages making it hard to walk. “What’s my punishment?”

Kage doesn’t answer, instead leaving you alone in your cell. “Strip the bed. I’ll be back.”

You gently rubbed your cheek where Maddox slapped you as you stared at the open door. You could run, but that would just worsen the situation. And you were in no condition to make it far.

Your gaze shifted to the blinking red light in the corner, staring into the black lens before snapping out of it and beginning to strip the bed as you were told. You kept replaying the events in your head, but it just didn’t make sense. You didn’t know why Maddox was so furious, and why Kage and Damien stopped him before he did any real damage. There was clearly something you were missing, but you were too fatigued to notice.

You used the sheets to soak up any remaining moisture from the mattress, which was covered with some sort of dark waterproof fabric. Unsure of what else to do, you placed the sheets by the bed.

With the sheets on the floor, you sat next to them on the cold concrete, waiting until Kage came back in with fresh bedding. He held it out to you, waiting for you to approach him with an air of impatience. You hoped your punishment was a simple as making the bed, but you knew you were in for worse at the hands of these men. 

It didn’t take Kage commanding you to put the fresh sheets on the bed, his eyes not leaving you for a moment. He let out a hum when you finished, before taking a seat. “Come here.”

You let out a shaky breath before you approached him. There was something so ominous about the blue shine to his eyes, like a full moon bearing its magnetic energy onto you. You couldn’t help but feel pulled towards him, like your legs moved before you could even think. When you got close enough, Kage took your wrist into his grip. There was a beat of silence for a moment before he yanked you down. You yelped as you fell, your stomach hitting his thighs as he bent you over his knees. It was a humiliating position. As if they hadn’t caused you enough shame.

As naked as the day you were born, you lay across his legs, your ass raised, and shoulders slumped. There was no escape. You were under no illusion that there was no way you could reasonably get out without help. And without Bucky, or any of your friends, you were stuck.

You felt as if you hadn’t slept at all, and tiredness nipped at the back of your eyes as you resigned yourself in his lap. He seemed pleased, a near silent grunt sounding as he rubbed circles over the globes of your ass.

When the first slap landed, you yelped, a sharp pain on your ass from the impact of his palm.

“One.” You heard him count under his breath, before the second spank hit. “Two.” Tears gathered in your eyes, small droplets hitting the ground below as the third hit landed. “Three.”

“Why?” You croaked out. “Why are you doing this?”

“Four.” Kage uttered, another slap hitting you and causing your body to jolt. Four. The counting continued despite your pleas, the pain worsening with each hit. He wasn’t holding back, and the pain began to elevate to the point where you felt as if your bones may shatter. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

“Please, I don’t understand. I’m sorry- I’m s-sorry I said his name. But I didn’t do it on purpose,” your words are mottled with sobs, and you turned back to look at him despite the way you had coiled around his thighs. “I don’t understand. Why do you hate him?”

Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty.

Kage’s icy glare met yours. In just a look alone he conveyed so much emotion, far more than words could ever express. There was anger and hurt all broiled up in a stew of self-pity. Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four, twenty five, twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine. His spanks didn’t stop, not even when your cries resounded off the walls like a ghoulish orchestra, your begs garbled with the agony coursing through you.

“Thirty,” he coldly said, his hand once against slapping against your abused ass. When he brought up his hand for another hit, he stopped. On his palm was little dots of blood. You whimpered at the sight of it, and his eyes narrowed. He’d been hitting you so hard he’d broken skin with the impact.

“Please, why? What’s going on?” You lamented, growing weary of his silence. “Just tell me. Why do you hate him? What did he do?”

Kage hit you again, more aggressive this time. You howled in pain as he held you still. His breaths came out in a huff as he calmed himself down. “Don’t act dumb. You’re his girlfriend. You know what he’s done.”

“I don’t!” You rebutted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Kage’s steel blue eyes flashed with something dangerous, his hand rubbing circles on your skin and smearing your blood across your flesh. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” You were genuine, and Kage’s eyes narrowed as he considered you. “I’m sure you did some research before taking me. I’m just a girl.”

”What, your boyfriend didn’t brag of the lives he ruined? How he ruined our lives. We’re orphaned freaks because of him. Because the Asset couldn’t just do his fucking mission. But he had no problem doing his job just fine when he trained us, when he beat us to a bloody pulp making us wish were dead. Over and over and over again. Hydra’s fist hits fucking hard. And he leaves behind nothing but lost souls.” It’s the most you’ve heard Kage speak, but what he’s saying makes no sense to you. “The Asset doesn’t care about the wreckage he leaves behind as long as he’s happy – as long as he can continue on with his pathetic life.”

Bucky ruined lives? The surprise and confusion on your face said it all. From what you knew, he didn’t do anything. He was a prisoner of war, he was a soldier, but his involvement with Hydra was news to you. The most you’d heard of the organisation was from reports when the triskelion fell. It was broadcast everywhere. “He didn’t tell me anything. I only know who Hydra are from the news.”

Kage let out a dark, mocking chuckle. "Stop lying."

"I'm not! I swear. He never told me. He doesn't tell anything about his missions either. H-He said he couldn't. That it was safer that way." You remembered the first time Bucky came home from a mission. He was covered in soot and a mess. Being naive, you asked him what happened, and it was then you realised it was better for you not to know. The horrors of the world were not for your eyes… until now.

Kage’s fingers gripped into the plushness of your ass. ”But you’ve been to the compound.”

“As a guest - a friend. Never when a mission was happening.” You sobbed, your brain spinning in circles at the new revelations. “I’ve been there for dinner or parties. Nothing else.”

His nails made divots in your skin as he gripped you. "You really had no idea?"

"No, I didn't. And I'm sorry. For all of you," you hiccupped. You couldn't lie about that. Losing family is never easy. "I didn't know."

Kage didn’t seem convinced. ”But you know of Hydra?”

You shrugged best you could over his knee. “Sort of. N-Not really. I just saw the news when those big helicopter things crashed - uh, helicarriers?” You let out a shuddered sigh. “The news said Hydra was behind it.”

His fingers eased, moving to rub over the sensitised skin. ”Did you read the documents that were leaked?”

You shook your head, tears dropping to the floor. “No, why would I do that? I didn’t need an existential crisis. I get stressed enough about everyday news, like a mugger or a cat stuck in a tree.”

"So he kept you in a bubble," he said after a moment, more to himself than to you. "If you're lying—"

"I'm not," you promised, almost dissolving into more tears. "I swear to you. All of you. I have no reason to lie to you."

There was a beat of silence while your mind ran a million miles an hour. Bucky was a prisoner of war, you knew that – the world knew that. But… he was with Hydra? You pursed your lips. There was no way he would have been with them willingly. He was a prisoner of Hydra, you surmised. He’d made comments in the past about never being in control until now – always being ordered around by someone else. Admittedly, you hadn’t taken it as literal. A soldier takes orders, but this – this seems entirely different. There���s no way Bucky would hurt someone unprovoked, not unless he was being controlled. The man you loved was no villain.

Kage broke the silence. ”Do you resent him for not telling you?”

A heavy sigh left you, pain still flickering up your spine from your abused ass. “It’s his story. I’m not the one who can decide when it’s time to tell it.”

"But he's the reason you're here,” Kage said as his hand ran up your back before reaching your shoulders, pulling you up and guiding you to sit in his lap.

You whimpered at the pressure on your bruised skin as you sat on Kage’s thighs. "Better me than another innocent person."

Kage’s face was close to yours, his breath fanning across your skin. ”You wouldn’t trade places with someone else?”

You tried to move back, to get some distance, but Kage held you firm. “No. I couldn’t bring myself to subject someone else to this kind of pain.”

He seemed to be searching for something in your eyes. "You don't like others hurting, do you?"

The question surprised you. "No, I don't. I've always tried to help others if I can."

Your answer has the air in the room changing, some of the coldness turning a bit warmer as Kage brushed away some of your tears. Your blood was still on his hands, and you eyed the redness of his fingers as he touched your face.

A tremble coursed through you when you heard footsteps approaching, and your attention turned to the doorway, where Damien emerged with a salve, some wipes and fresh clothes.

His expression had changed too. Where there was anger was now a new understanding. They really thought you knew what they’d been through, you realised. You glanced between the two men, uncomfortable and distressed. Their anger was ruthless, but you feared whatever this was more. Kage’s hands over your waist were firm, but with an edge of gentleness.

You didn’t want them to like you.

Maybe you should have just lied and said you knew. But that wasn’t you. You weren’t deceptive.

Kage lifted you easily, placing you face down on your cot, your face wetting the fresh sheets below you as you cried. The overstimulation of your body and mind hit like a freight train, and you sobbed like never before.

“Jesus, try to calm down. You’ll make yourself sick,” Damien tried to placate as he sat next to you, wiping away your blood before beginning to apply some ointment to your battered skin. “You really did a number, Kage.”

You glance over at the blonde, and he didn’t seem proud of himself. Quite the opposite. His jaw clenched. “Shut up.”

“Hey hey, I’m just trying to break the tension here.” Damien kept applying the ointment until your welts were covered. “You took your punishment well.”

You think he’s trying to compliment you, so you respond with your head buried in the sheets. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he quickly responded before finishing up.

Your mournful cries didn’t stop, and they only got worse when Kage and Damien finally left, leaving you alone. You dressed yourself in the plain tshirt and panties, before it all became too much and returned to the bed.

All your bottled-up emotions spilled out into the mattress. You screamed, your sounds muffled by the bedding, not stopping until your throat hurt and your voice was course.

The more emotion you let out, the more fatigued you became. And slowly, you began to pass out, crying yourself to sleep. All you could hope was this sleep was more restful, and less eventful than the last.

Thankfully, you didn’t dream this time. Your rest was no more than a limbo between horrors – horrors which seemed very intent on continuing, with Maddox stood with his arms crossed, watching you slumber as he leaned against the open doorframe. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You nearly jumped through the ceiling in fright at the sight of him, your whole body flinching as you sat up, your bruised ass instantly sore from the movement. “You didn’t.”

“Good.” He tilted his head, the anger he’d been sporting gone behind his normal demure expression. “So, I had a chat with the guys. Look, we thought you knew all about us. And now we realise you really are innocent in all this. We feel a bit bad about the whole situation, so we’re going to let you go home.”

It sounded like a foreign language as Maddox spoke, your heart skipping a beat. “You’re going to let me go?”

“Seems only fair. I think we’ve put you through enough,” Maddox shrugged nonchalantly.

“But you were so angry,” you cautiously observed Maddox. It felt like a trick, and it likely was one, but you couldn’t help the desire that smouldered in your heart. You could go home. More than anything you just desired to be comfortable in your own bed again, with your cat and the love of your life.

Maddox pushed himself off the doorframe and approached, the movement making you shuffle back on the mattress. He chuckled, shaking his head at your scurrying. “I have no intent of hurting you.”

“Surely you can’t blame me for being afraid,” you squeaked as he towered over you.

“Oh, not at all. I’ve given you more than enough reason. But here, truce?” Maddox offered his open palm for you to take, to help you stand. You stared at his hand for a moment, taking in the scarred skin. It looked like he held the sharp end of a knife more than once. They weren’t kidding about having been through pain.

Anxiety was a thick sludge in your throat as you placed your hand in his, allowing him to be a crutch for you as you got onto your feet. Your entire backside hurt like something fierce with each movement, but you tried to not show it too much on your face.

“Kage really let you have it, huh?” Maddox grinned, leading you out of the door and to the left, where Kage and Damien stood at the bottom of concrete stairs.

“Ready to go home?” Kage said as Damien took your free hand in his.

“Yes,” you blurted out honestly. “Are you… are you really going to let me go?”

“Of course. We may be assholes, but we’re not liars,” Damien chided, the warmth from his skin heating your hand.

“What about Bu– I mean, my boyfriend?” You questioned, making wobbly steps up the stairs towards what looked to be a basement door. Your suspicions were right - you were underground.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about him. That’s our business to attend to,” Maddox grinned, but it was akin to a shark showing their teeth. There was danger in the way he spoke.

Distracted, you missed a step, but they were quick to catch you, all giving out a soft laugh before you made your way to the top of the stairs.

You had guessed that you were underground. What you hadn’t expected was that you were under a house. You emerged into an open-plan living room and kitchen with a rustic aesthetic. 

“Do you like it?” Damien asked proudly. Clearly, he owned this place.

“... It’s nice.” You placated, taking your hand out of both Maddox and Damien’s grip. “I can.. just go?”

“Yes. Off you go. There’s a car outside waiting for you,” Damien said, and you could feel the soft rumble of a running engine through the floorboards.

You glanced back at the men, each of them looking expectantly at you. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation before you turned around and bolted for the front door, despite your body hating every moment. Your feet were still healing, and with your bruised muscles, it was torture. But you wanted out. No, you needed out.

You reached the front door quickly, and when you turned the knob, your eyes went wide. It was locked tight. There were multiple bolts on the door, which all seemed unlocked, but when you looked down, you realised the front door had a finger scanner. 

Reality began to set in when you placed your finger on the door and were met with a red flash and beeping. Access denied. “No... No, no, no. Not like this.”

You went to turn, but before you could, there was a sharp prick to your neck as one of the men plunged a needle into you. It became clear Maddox was your assailant as your legs went numb, and you tumbled to the ground with a gasp, seeing him standing behind you with dark eyes. Whatever the contents of the syringe were acted quickly, an odd floaty feeling spreading across your body as you lost control of your functions, your body stuck on its front on the cold hardwoods.

Their laughter became distorted as your brain fizzled, but you didn’t pass out. No, whatever they’d given you was keeping you awake, forced to watch as they circled your limp body. “She made it further than I thought she would with her injuries,” Damien smirked as he poked your side with his shoe.

“It’s cute in an utterly pathetic way.” Maddox used his boot to roll you onto your back before leaning down near your head. “Aw, is someone feeling a bit sleepy?” Unable to coil away, Maddox spit in your face with a cruel laugh. “C’mon, wake up, it’s playtime.”

Kage was next to torment you as you tried to roll yourself back onto your stomach to crawl away. His boot pressed painfully into your stomach, the steel tip digging in just below your ribcage. “Knock my foot away. Try it.”

You whined as you tried to use your arms to push him away, but you couldn’t. Your arms were like jelly.

“Mm, as fun as this is, we gotta move.” Maddox sighed as he straightened up, discarding the used needle out of your sightline.

You managed to get onto your stomach with Kage backing off, but all you could do was whimper as hands gripped your ankles, dragging you across the hardwoods and out the front door, your nose banging on the solid surface as you tried to dig your nails into the floor, but you had no strength left.

Your drool and blood from your now bleeding nose created a trail across the floor. At least if anyone found this home, there’d be evidence that you existed, your DNA staining the wood.

“Should we change her?” Damien asked, and from his voice, you could tell he was the one dragging you.

“She’ll be warm enough,” Maddox watched from the side as you were dragged to the porch stairs.

“God, she’s not going to piss in my car, is she?” Damien complained as Kage slung you over his shoulder, your body like a ragdoll, as he lifted you with scary ease.

“Just wrap a towel around her ass. It’ll do.” Maddox began putting bags in the back seat of the SUV parked outside.

Damien began to help him, but not without continuing to complain. “Just watch it. She already bled on my floor.”

Maddox laughed. “She bled all over her apartment and you didn’t even blink.”

“But that wasn’t my apartment,” Damien argued, a playful irritation in his tone.

They were having fun while tear droplets hit the gravel below you.

Maddox wasn’t giving up, though. ”You’re so materialistic sometimes, Dami.”

”When you pay for shit you can be too, Mads. Oh wait, you don’t pay for anything.”

”I’ve saved your ass enough times for payment.”

Kage sighed, his hand resting on your exposed ass. ”Would you two just shut up and help me get her in the car? I can do it myself, but then I’ll make sure blood and piss gets everywhere.”

Maddox sighed, too. "Yeah, yeah. Gimme a second. You leave the present in her cell?"

"Yeah. They'll find it."

You tried to speak, but only a groan came out. 

"Try not to talk. It won't do you any good.” Kage said as Maddox helped him haul you into the trunk of the car.

”At first, we couldn’t get you to talk, and now you won’t shut up.” Maddox started to wrap a towel around your lower half. "Just put some music on and drown her out."

“You… lied…” You managed to get out amongst your drooling whimpers.

Kage leaned in, his hand caressing your cheek. “We didn’t. You are going home.”

“Just not to the home you hoped for,” Maddox chimed in, derisively patting your thigh. “Rest up, babydoll. There’s a long journey ahead of us yet.”

Kage and Maddox pulled back, and their faces were the last thing you saw before the boot was slammed shut, and you were covered in darkness.

To be updated on when I post please follow @sgt-seabass-library and turn on post notifications.

To be updated on when Navy posts please follow @navybrat817-sideblog and turn on post notifications.

[navybrat817]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒖

✧˚ · . a collaboration between @navybrat817 and @sgt-seabass

After his escape from a life of captivity, and the fall of Hydra, Bucky Barnes thought he finally had a chance at happiness. The problem is, if you cut off one head, three shall take it's place. A new Hydra had risen, and their ruthless path will leave destruction in it's wake.

A/N: We're very excited to share this series with you. It's going to be a rough and bumpy road for our reader, but we hope you enjoy the ride.

This AU is dark and 18+. Heed the warnings on each post.

𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒂 | AO3

Bucky returns home after a mission, ready to spend time with his two favourite people, you and Alpine.

𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔 | AO3

Is this the way it's got to be? Ignite the fire inside of me. Embrace the life of tragedy. A tide of war and broken dreams.

𝑬𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 | AO3

Stay reformed. Erase this perfect world. Hate left below. The dark stray dog of war.

𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒅 | AO3

I just wanna see you bleed. Open you and set you free

More to come...

[clintbartonruinedmylife]

Sweet Omega o' mine

Chapter 15

“What happened?”

“We don’t know,” Fury said. “That’s why we sent Barnes to find out. He was here for two weeks before he disappeared.”

“And no one knows who has him?” Clint asked.

[niffala]

I have too many feelings to put into words, but I loved this.

The Ultimatum | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hello! I've been BUSY as fuck with school lately, y'all. It is truly a nightmare. I'm talking tests on tests on tests on finals on finals. But I'm almost done with the semester and I FINALLY finished this fic that I've been working on for-fucking-ever. It's got the angst and the yearning and the pain with a happy ending, which is my fave. Thanks for reading and thanks for being patient while I suffer through school :)

Word count: 9.6k

Warnings: implied emotional abuse, manipulative boyfriend, anxiety, general sad vibes (but happy ending, as always <3)

At this point, Bucky had almost forgotten how to react to a knock at the door. He stood almost frozen, not quite recognizing the sound of knuckles against the wood. It seemed to him like a foreign, otherworldly occurrence. Like something newsworthy, something he’d see on the front page. He didn’t ever get visitors- well, at least not anymore. 

It struck him as odd, the thought of an unsolicited visitor dropping by- and so late; it was almost eleven. And though he didn’t feel like making small talk with the old lady who lived across the hall, he figured he should open the door. Maybe his elderly neighbor needed help. Maybe she locked herself out and needed somewhere to wait for the landlord. And who was he to ignore her? She was always sweet. She treated him not like a monster, but a human being. And to Bucky, that was a novel experience- something worthy of backpay. So, if she needed to hang around his apartment for a while until the landlord arrived to unlock her door, he’d let her.

But when he opened the front door, he didn’t find old Mrs. Beverly. A sharp inhale barreled into him at the sight of you waiting on his welcome mat, the same one that you always joked about; you told him time and time again he should’ve called it a “go away mat”. 

Everything inside Bucky came screeching to a halt. No heartbeat, no thoughts. Just shock. A rush of goosebumps flashed over his skin at the mere sight of you within arm’s reach once again. An immediate smile splashed across his face- a smile he hadn’t worn since the last time he saw you. Butterflies swarmed inside his stomach and wriggled into his lungs, their wings constricting his breathing. Seeing you again was the first day of spring after a seemingly never-ending winter. The first rays of sun poking through frost riddled branches and dead leaves. This was salvation. 

“You said…” This was harder than you expected. Seeing Bucky again warmed parts of you that you didn’t know had gone cold. Just the sight of him helped you breathe easier. He made you lighter, calmer. He brought you a sense of comfort you stopped searching for months ago. Around him, all your sharp edges softened. But you didn’t know how to talk to him- not anymore. At one time, he was your safe place- the safest place you could imagine. During the bitterest of winters, he was your hearth, your home. You shared a secret language spoken only by the two of you. 

But not anymore. Not for a while now.

You weren’t the same person you’d been when you knew him. To some, it was an imperceptible change. But you felt it every day. Missing Bucky wormed its way into your cells, tangling itself with your DNA. It became a building block of your very being. Losing him damaged your soul, leaving the edges frayed and torn. 

The stark silence of the empty hallway made Bucky’s ears ring. He stared at you, his mouth slightly ajar, a look of bewilderment on his face. He took in the mascara smeared beneath your eyes, the soaking wet clothes hanging from your body. Only the quiet drip drip drip of water leaving your drenched hair dared disturb the silence.

The words you rehearsed on your way over dissolved. They abandoned you without a trace, leaving only one clumsy sentence in their place. “You said I could always come here if I needed you,” you finally said.

All Bucky could do was nod.

“Well… I need you,” you threw him a sheepish smile. “Can I come in?”

Again, Bucky nodded. His thoughts raced and collided with each other, filling his mind with noise. But he managed an “of course”; he needed you to know you were welcome. Of course, you were welcome. You were always welcome. He just hadn’t had the pleasure of inviting you into his home in what felt like a lifetime. 

A deep sigh of relief left your chest. Part of you expected him to slam the door in your face. You squeezed past him, careful not to brush against his clothes and get him all wet- though he wouldn’t have minded. He was just happy to see you again.

The sound of your wet sneakers squeaking across the hardwood set your nerves on edge. But being back in his apartment eased them right away. This space used to be your home away from home, the place you felt most comfortable. Sometimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you thought about its worn, wood floors or the orange light that poured through the windows at sunset. Just thinking about the way this place cloaked you in safety and warmth remedied your anxious mind and eased you into a peaceful sleep.

Everything sat in nearly the exact same place as the last time you were here. That was just like Bucky- constant, consistent. But as you let your gaze drift over the room, you noticed a few foreign pieces of décor. He’d gotten some new furnishings since you last visited. A cozy-looking blanket lay strewn across the couch. A large armchair- perfect for reading- sat next to the window. 

All this time, you worried about Bucky. You wondered how he was getting along, how he was handling things on his own. But he was okay. He made good on his chance at a new life. You only wished you could’ve been a part of it.

A thousand questions swarmed inside of Bucky’s brain. He had so many things to ask you, so much he wanted to catch up on. But one question sat at the top of his list. It was his first priority, his greatest worry: “Are you okay?”

A large huff left your chest, “I got into a big fight with Alex.” Part of you feared you were being dramatic. Bucky would never judge you- you knew he wouldn’t. But showing up out of the blue, late at night, drenched from head to toe because you argued with your boyfriend felt ridiculous. Maybe even pathetic. “He got mad- he didn’t want me to go out with my friends tonight,” you sighed. “Because I didn’t ask him first.”

“Because you didn’t ask him first?” Bucky nearly scoffed, “What- is he your father?” He checked himself immediately. A soft, “sorry” followed his less than subtle dig at your boyfriend, his attempt to assuage his mistake. He didn’t want you to put you on the defensive or make you regret your decision to reach out. Clearly, you needed him. And Bucky wasn’t about to ruin your attempt at seeking help.

But a quiet laugh pushed its way past your lips, easing Bucky’s worries. He always knew how to validate your feelings. “He was just being so-” you dragged your palms down your damp cheeks and thought back on the argument. “He’s so difficult. Sometimes, I feel like I’m on a leash or something. A short leash.”

Bucky didn’t like the sound of that. He mulled over his next words, careful not to let another outburst escape without his permission. But a pressing thought jumped through his lips without warning. “Wait- why are you all wet?” Bucky said. “Sorry, I- we absolutely need to talk about what happened. But… you’re soaked. What happened?”

With a swipe of your hand, you rid your forehead of a few water droplets that tried to escape your hairline. “Well, it’s pouring,” you gestured toward the rain-spattered window. “And I walked here.”

His eyes went wide, “you walked here? From your place?”

You nodded. 

Your demeanor was all too casual for Bucky. With decent weather- in the daylight- the walk wasn’t that bad. But in a torrential downpour at 11pm, it was dangerous. It was far. “Jesus Christ…” Bucky couldn’t believe you did such a thing. It wasn’t safe- not with the rain, and especially not with the suspicious men that lurked the city streets at night. He thanked the universe you hadn’t been preyed upon on your journey to his apartment. “Why’d you walk?”

“Alex wouldn’t give me my purse,” you punctuated your sentence with the crossing of your arms. “We were fighting about me going out with my friends. And then things kinda blew up and he took my fucking purse.” The anger smoldering in your chest scorched through every blood vessel, broiling your cells. “He thought that if I didn’t have my keys or my wallet, he could stop me from going out.” 

Bucky matched your eye roll with one of his own. He could practically see the short leash you mentioned only moments ago. He couldn’t believe Alex took your things. Well, he could believe it- he just didn’t want to imagine you in such a situation. It seemed to Bucky that Alex wanted to keep you locked away like a princess in a tower; and Alex played the role of the fire-breathing dragon. 

“And then I missed out on dinner and dancing with the girls anyway cause our argument blew up.” A swift sadness snuffed out your sizzling rage. “So, I guess he won after all…” This night out with your friends was the one thing keeping you sane the past few weeks. Every time Alex did something to hurt you, to disrespect or belittle you, you thought about seeing your friends. About having a glass of wine or two and spending a few hours with the women in your life. You wanted to hear about their promotions, their wedding planning, their upcoming vacations. But most of all, you wanted their comfort. 

And he stole that from you.

Bucky wanted to wring Alex’s neck. He wanted to make him disappear. He wanted to cut you free from the cement blocks Alex tied to your feet. But the sharp shiver that rocketed through your body put those thoughts on pause. 

“Here, let’s get you some dry clothes to change into, alright?” 

“Oh… that’s-” You shook your head. Sure, you wanted to change out of your sopping wet clothes and into something cozier. But you didn’t deserve Bucky’s kindness or concern. Not anymore. You couldn’t let him do this for you, not after you showed up unannounced. Not after what you did. “That’s okay. I’m fine. Really.” 

But Bucky clocked the shaking in your fingers, the way you fought to keep your teeth from chattering. “Come on, it’s okay.” He reached for your icy hand and gave it a squeeze, only for a brief second. But it was enough to warm you from the inside out. “We both know you’re freezing. Just let me give you something to wear for a while. Okay?” He sensed the trepidation in your expression, the way you avoided eye contact. “It’s not an imposition or anything like that- just a friend helping a friend.” The patience and understanding behind his warm smile was so genuine, so authentic- you couldn’t help but believe him.

And though you knew it wasn’t right to accept his kind gesture, you couldn’t help yourself. The cold pierced through your bones and chilled you to the very soul- you weren’t strong enough to resist his offer. And, selfishly, you wanted to wrap yourself in Bucky’s clothes. They were always cozier, more comfortable than your own. The fabric seemed to hang on to his warm scent; you never realized you could miss a smell so much until it vanished from your own clothes. Your hair. 

“Um, okay. Yeah,” you nodded. “Thank you.”

Your acceptance of his offer made Bucky beam- but you were still stuck on him referring to you as a friend. After all this time, after what you did to him, you couldn’t believe he’d still regard you with such affection.

You slipped out of your sneakers and socks and followed Bucky down the familiar hall to his bedroom. The memories embedded in these walls were your favorite days. Your most comfortable nights. Coming back to Bucky’s place allowed you to visit them all once again- something you never permitted anymore. Conjuring those memories brought you the greatest comfort and the sharpest, most soul-crushing pain. Seeking salvation in the past only served to remind you that Bucky was no longer part of your present, nor your future. And that hurt worse than any gunshot wound.

Just to be safe, you secured those happy memories in vault and buried it deep inside your mind, never allowing them to escape or see the light of day. 

But it was a crushing loss. 

“So, um… why didn’t you call?” Bucky looked over his shoulder for a split second, as though to make sure you were following him. “I would’ve picked you up, that way you wouldn’t have had to walk in the rain…” 

Of course, he would’ve. He would’ve given his remaining arm for you. 

You pulled at your soaking wet t-shirt, desperate to distract yourself. This was too awkward, too pathetic. 

“I was afraid that…” You cleared your throat. “I um, I didn’t think you’d answer. Cause of what I did.” The wet hem of your t-shirt gave you little relief as you picked at its stitching to stem the anxiety. “I thought it was better if I just- you know, if I just came here. If I just showed up.” You rolled your eyes at your own logic, “if I called, there was a chance you wouldn’t answer.”

Bucky shook his head, “I would’ve-”

“I didn’t wanna chance it,” you said. “Cause if you blocked my number and that’s how I found out, I might’ve walked into traffic.”

Bucky knew you too well, knew you were making a joke to hide your very real fear of his rejection. “Well, I didn’t block your number,” he said after a moment, “I don’t know how.” And before you could spiral, Bucky turned to face you. “I would’ve answered. I will always answer.” His words were so genuine, so steadfast, that you nearly stopped breathing. 

“I think I knew that…” you said, your voice almost imperceptible. “I think it scared me.” 

Even after all this time apart, he remembered the way your voice grew thin when shame got the best of you. If he were being honest, he thought about the sound of your voice every day. 

He knew you well enough to know when you were nervous. When you couldn’t stand to make eye contact. And so, he turned his back to you and continued in the direction of his bedroom, giving you a moment to yourself.

“Here we are,” Bucky pushed open his bedroom door and gestured for you to enter, allowing you to go ahead of him. But he sensed your hesitation, your uneasiness. He clocked it in the way your eyes just missed his, the way your fingers pulled at the fabric of your shirt. The two of you stood there in the hallway, stalling outside his bedroom door as though trapped in wet cement. Bucky broke free first.

“Alright, let’s find you something comfortable!” He dipped his words in positivity and 

threw a too-cheery affectation on top for good measure. He just wanted to make you feel more at ease, more relaxed. But he knew a dry shirt and some sweatpants couldn’t fix the damage Alex did. 

It was more than that, though. Bucky could feel the uncomfortable tension radiating off you like rays of the sun. You didn’t know how to act around him now, didn’t know how to navigate the crumbled ruins of your relationship. It was obvious. You didn’t readily enter his bedroom- how could you? You didn’t feel entitled to that space- or any space of his- anymore. And Bucky was going to change your mind or die trying.

“Okay, so you definitely need a pair of socks…” He rifled through his top drawer until he found a pair thick enough to keep you warm.

“And sweatpants? Yeah?” He looked at you expectantly, awaiting your approval.

You nodded. You’d accept anything he gave you- or didn’t give you. You didn’t have the right to his help, his clothes, or his comforts. 

But he pushed on. Happily. He scrounged around the shelves in his closet and in his dresser drawers, searching for a pair that would fit. 

And as he dug through seemingly every article of clothing he owned, you gave the room a once over. He’d gotten a small, slightly shabby bookshelf in the time since you last saw the place. An army of novels with cracked spines and distressed covers lined the warped wood like soldiers protecting him from the nightmares. He still only had one pillow, and his sheets were the same dark gray cotton. But his bedspread was new; it was the same one you advised he get for the colder months. At the time, he said he didn’t need anything heavier than the thin blanket that adorned his bed. And you knew it was just another way for him to punish himself, to refuse even the slightest comfort.

But the insulation in his cheap apartment did nothing to provide a reprieve from the biting winter. And clearly, he caved to your recommendation- even after things between you went south. A small smile crept across your face at the thought. At least you’d been able to help him in some way or another. Because of you, he stayed warm. He protected himself from the frigid temperatures. It eased your conscience, no matter how slightly.

“I think these will work…” Bucky held a pair of sweatpants up to your body. “I mean, they’re still gonna be way too big, but they’re the smallest pair I have.” He outstretched his hand and offered them to you, “we can tie the waist really tight and roll ‘em up so they’re not too long- don’t want you to trip.” 

You hesitated for only a moment, unable to resist the dry, warm fabric of his worn sweats. 

“Oh- you need a top,” he said, making his way toward the closet once again, “I have just the thing…” He reached up toward the top shelf of his closet in search of something; and before he had the chance to show you, you realized just what he was looking for. 

It was what you used to wear at Bucky’s as makeshift pajamas or when it got too cold. He used to say it was yours just as much as it was his. Back then, you slept over by accident a few times a week. Sometimes, he needed you late at night. Sometimes, he just needed you to be there while he slept- he was more comfortable that way. You always made him feel safe. But after one too many nights of you struggling to sleep in uncomfortable clothes, Bucky presented you with this very sweatshirt. He wanted to give you something- anything- to make you more comfortable. And so, he dug around his closet for his coziest, most comforting crewneck.

It came in handy every time the heating failed and the shotty insulation left you chilled to the bone. Bucky always pulled it out for you and watched with a smile as you tugged the soft, green fabric over your head. Sure, the heat at your apartment worked great. At home, you didn’t have to dress in layers or drink endless ups of scalding hot tea to keep warm. 

But some days, Bucky couldn’t stand to leave the house. And you couldn’t let him rot away all alone. So, you made your way to his place, in rain or snow, and sat with him. Talked with him. Made him tea and brought him food. 

He hadn’t been able to touch that sweatshirt ever since you left. Didn’t even want to look at it. But he kept it clean for you- just in case. 

“Is this okay?” Memory after memory of you accepting this very sweatshirt flashed through Bucky’s head. It used to be a routine of sorts, but it felt foreign now. 

Something in you nearly cracked. This whole thing was too much. It seemed like you’d been dropped into a film about your own life, and someone behind the camera forced you to play out this scene just to hurt you. It made you ache for before. Before you left, before things fell apart, before you made the decision you knew was wrong. 

Bucky stared at you, an expectant look on his face. He waited for you to take the relic of the better days you once shared, hoping it would bring them back to life.

But you hesitated. You eyed the garment, fearing the fabric would send you into a spiral. The threads were heavy with memories. And after everything you did, who were you to accept this gesture of goodwill?

“This is- I really appreciate it. But…” you refused the sweatshirt. And instead, tried to hand the sweatpants and socks back to Bucky. “I can’t accept all this. It’s not-”

“Yes, you can.” Bucky’s words were definitive. He allowed no room for arguments. “You’ll be a lot warmer.” He offered you a gentle smile and once again stretched the sweatshirt in your direction. “Get changed and we can put your clothes in the dryer,” he said, turning toward the door. “I’ll be right outside.”

A nod and a quiet “thank you” were all you could muster. And as Bucky left the room and shut the door, you wondered how he could possibly treat you so kindly after what happened. Ever since you left, you berated yourself daily. It was part of your routine now, almost like you’d penciled it into your calendar. The guilt kept you up at night and distracted you during the workday.

But Bucky was a good person. And he’d never hate you the way you hated yourself.

Slipping into his sweatshirt felt almost criminal. You saved it for last, choosing first to shimmy into his sweatpants and wrap your feet in his warm socks. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t right- none of this was right. Allowing Bucky to treat you with such hospitality, such care, wasn’t fair to him- not after what you put him through. But as you tugged his sweatshirt over your head, your selfishness eclipsed that feeling of wrongdoing. 

It was just as you remembered it- oversized but not massive. Warm but not suffocating. The worn fabric eased over your skin and cloaked you in the kind of comfort you knew you didn’t deserve. And for the first time since you left, you experienced genuine comfort. 

“Oh, hey,” Bucky was waiting for you in the hall, just like he said he would. “I’ll take those,” he took your wet clothes and nearly recoiled at just how cold the fabric felt against his skin. You must’ve been miserable- and yet, you’d tried to refuse the dry clothes he offered. His heart broke for you all over again. He tossed the piled of sopping fabric into the dryer and shot you a kind smile.

Bucky stared at you as the machine began to rumble; part of him wondered if this was real. He’d had plenty of dreams about this moment, about your return to his life. But none were ever this real, this believable. And as he observed you standing there in his old sweatshirt, he decided that if this was all some strange, lucid concoction of his psyche, he never wanted to wake up.

But the trembling in your hands caught his attention once again, pulling his smile into a deep frown. The warm, dry clothes did their best to shake the chill, but to no avail.

“Let me make you some tea,” Bucky gestured toward the kitchen. “I have some-”

“Oh, that’s okay.” You tucked your shaking hands into the long sleeves of Bucky’s sweatshirt, flashing him a forced smile. “I’ll warm up in a minute.” 

His old, familiar eyeroll brought a real smile to your face with ease. The two of you fell back into your old habits, your old way of relating, far too easily. Before you left, he always tried to give you things or do things for you when you hung out at his place. He knew his apartment was shitty, that you gave up time with your friends and boyfriend for him. And to compensate, he always had an offer in his back pocket: tea, takeout, baked goods from the place down the street. He had to make up for the burden he placed on you. And every time, you refused. The two of you would fake argue and banter until you finally conceded. And, with a smile, he’d make you a cup of tea or braid your hair the way Shuri showed him. 

You knew how much it meant to him to be able to give you something in return for your kindness- no matter how many times you told him your friendship wasn’t transactional. 

“I’m making you some tea, d-” Bucky caught himself, cutting off the word that rested on the tip of his tongue. He knew he shouldn’t call you ‘doll’ anymore. With a forced clearing of his throat, he pivoted. “I have some jasmine. Is that still your go-to?”

You nodded. Deep within you, an ache for your old nickname stirred. 

Bucky busied his hands with mugs and sugar and spoons. He always kept your favorite jasmine tea on hand, just in case. It stayed in the cupboard, front and center, ready for your return. But the box sat untouched. He hadn’t made any- not since you left. Just the smell of it was enough to break his heart all over again.

Every time he opened that cabinet, your tea stared back at him. And though seeing it threw him back in time and punched him in the gut with longing, he couldn’t get rid of it. Throwing it out would mean that you’d never come back, and he couldn’t accept that.

Bucky put the kettle on and tiptoed into rocky territory. “So, can I ask…” he toyed with a spoon, avoiding eye contact, “why didn’t you call an Uber or something?”

A pang of embarrassment jolted through you like lightning. Admitting the truth of your relationship only served to make you feel stupid. You’d lost count of the number of times your friends gasped or booed when you told them about something Alex did or said. And though you knew that the urge to hide his less-than-loving tendencies was a blood red flag in and of itself, you couldn’t help it. 

But you didn’t have to hide with Bucky. Ever.

“I deleted my rideshare accounts,” you sighed. “Or- Alex did. He doesn’t like me using them cause he doesn’t trust that I won’t-” 

You cut your next thought off at the knees. Months ago, Alex confronted you about your use of ride share apps. He suspected you of cheating, of sneaking away. His words dripped with contempt as he spat accusation after accusation your way, never stopping to listen to the truth. Sometimes, you needed a ride to work. Or to your sister’s house. But he didn’t care. “I know you’ve been going to see him- to see Barnes,” he’d said, “I know you’ve been going to see that psycho.”

That night, while you slept, he deleted your Uber and Lyft accounts and forbade you from ever downloading the apps again. 

“He also cut up my Metro card,” you said, your voice quieter now. Admitting these things felt traitorous. Treasonous. Like giving intel to the opposing side. Alex didn’t like Bucky. And Bucky didn’t like Alex- rightfully so. Spilling your guts supplied Bucky with enough ammo to destroy the man you supposedly loved. But Bucky didn’t fire a single shot.

He, instead, wrangled his negative thoughts about Alex and locked them away for the time being. The strong urge tear your shitty boyfriend apart rattled inside Bucky’s brain. It clawed and thrashed at the bars of the cage in which Bucky trapped it. Talking shit about your boyfriend, while satisfying, wasn’t important. You were Bucky’s top priority. He needed to make sure you were comfortable, that you felt safe. There was something in the way you spoke about Alex; a not-so-subtle tinge of anxiety- of fear- that tarnished every word you said about him. And thinking about the cause turned Bucky’s stomach.

He just wanted to be there for you, whatever that meant. If you needed to vent, Bucky would listen. If you needed to cry, he’d offer you his shoulder. And if you needed to sit in silence, drinking your tea, and pretending your boyfriend didn’t exist for a while, Bucky would join you in the quiet.

“Oh. Um…” Bucky didn’t know what to say. His anger toward your boyfriend boiled under the surface, but he didn’t dare let it overflow. Instead, he pulled the kettle from the stove just as it started to sing. “Well… I’m glad you made it here safely,” he said. It was all he could think of. 

You shrugged, “I kinda ruined your Saturday night, though.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and gave you a laugh, “you could never ruin my night.” 

Without a second thought or a moment’s pause, he prepared your tea just the way you liked it. Even after all this time, even after the issues with his memory, he never forgot. He delivered a perfect splash of milk, a flawless dose of sugar. It was as though he’d done this just yesterday- and all the days before.

“Plus, do you really think I had plans tonight?” Bucky said as he handed you your tea. 

“Hey, I don’t know…” you sipped your tea; it was even the perfect temperature. “Maybe you’re a real social butterfly now. Maybe you have a weekly poker game or plans with Sam.” You shrugged, “maybe you have a girlfriend.”

Things fell quiet after that. Bucky sipped at his tea. You scratched absentmindedly at the tile counter. Neither of you knew what to say or how to say it. And it crushed you. Before, the conversation between you and Bucky flowed so easily, so smoothly. You read each other’s’ minds and anticipated nearly every word. And in the silences, things were comfortable. Cozy. Content.

This was awkward, tense. It sent a shiver up your spine.

“You’re still freezing.” A worried scowl carved a deep line in Bucky’s forehead. “Come on, let’s get you under a blanket, okay?” He wrapped an arm around you back- loosely- and guided you toward the living room. 

The gesture almost made you tear up. Bucky was always so kind. So gentle and soft and warm. It was a warmth you hadn’t experienced in a long time. But part of you almost wanted to distrust his kindness. It seemed to you like an omen, a kind of warning. Or even a trap. At home, sweet gestures like these always meant trouble brewing beneath the surface. They led to shouting and crying. To accusations and fear and distrust. 

They came with a catch.

Bucky didn’t.

He simply held your tea while you got comfortable on the couch. He wrapped you in a blanket and asked if you wanted another. And when he was confident that you were, indeed, warming up, he joined you. 

“This might sound pathetic,” Bucky said as he settle into his spot on the couch, “this is the best night that I’ve had in a really long time.” He knew you were only in his home due to unfortunate, unkind circumstances. He knew he shouldn’t be celebrating your showing up sopping wet at his apartment late at night, not when he knew what made you do so. 

But he so was happy to see you. 

Things fell quiet after that. You left all of your peace behind the last time you left Bucky’s apartment. You ripped it from your chest and piled it in a corner, abandoning it for your new life. Sure, it hurt. And it left you feeling empty. But it had to be done, didn’t it? 

All your life, people emphasized the importance of marriage. Of settling down. They told you that relationships are always hard, that they aren’t like fairytales. And so, you accepted Alex’s empty promises and twisted definition of love. And even when you expressed to your parents that you weren’t sure about Alex, they talked you into staying with him. They cited your age, how difficult it would be to find a husband as you got even older. They scared you into accepting less than you deserved. They scared you into leaving Bucky behind. 

Yes, it was you who ultimately made the decision to end your friendship with the kindest person you’d ever known. But you knew you’d never let go of the grudge you held against those in your life who convinced you to settle for Alex. To cut Bucky out of your life. They robbed you of so much time with him, time you’d never get back. And just the thought of all those lost days sent you into deep, endless grief. 

Bucky spoke up after a while, “Do you wanna talk about it?” He didn’t want to pry or come on too strong; something in him feared it would scare you off. If this was where you sought solace, if this was where you felt safest, who was he to disturb your newfound sense of peace?

“You don’t have to,” he said, “but you can if you want.”

You did want to talk to Bucky about what happened. You wanted to spill your guts and vomit every less than blissful detail about your life with Alex. Talking to your girlfriends was nice and of course, your therapist was helpful- but there was something about Bucky. He was the only person who really understood you, who could read between the lines and grasp the feelings you struggled to put into words. 

But pulling at that thread was dangerous. You’d already tugged at a few pieces, unraveled some shameful details about how things were at home. And if you gave that frayed thread another yank, you feared that every damaged, knotted strand would fall on full display at Bucky’s feet. The prospect scared you more than your late-night walk to Bucky’s.

And who were you to dump your relationship issues on him, anyway? Who were you to disappear with barely any warning, only to show up and vent on his couch? It wasn’t right- none of this was right. Sure, parts of this night were irreversible. You were already there, wearing his clothes, drinking his tea, and sitting on his couch. But you could stop yourself from burdening him any further. You could sew up your leaky wounds and snap your mouth shut, saving him from any more of your grief.

You sidestepped his offer, “No, it’s okay- catch me up on things with you. I wanna know everything.” 

Bucky gave you a look. Even after all your time away, he could still read you like the Sunday paper. He knew how badly you needed to simply let go, to unburden yourself. But he knew you wouldn’t.  

Your reluctance to share wasn’t a question of his listening skills or your level of comfort with him; it was the shame. He could practically see the guilt oozing from your pores. You didn’t feel as though you deserved to bare your soul to him. It was obvious, perfectly illustrated in the way you yanked your lips into a tight smile each time he looked at you. Showing up at his place unannounced after a seemingly eternal bout of radio silence was one thing. But dumping your problems in his lap? Burying him under your relationship drama? That was simply not allowed.

And so, he told you all about his life- the version that didn’t include you. He told you about the missions he’d been on and the injuries he sustained. The amends. The shitty, court appointed therapist who treated him more like a criminal than a client. The boat he fixed up with Sam. The old man with whom he ate lunch every week. 

He almost seemed happy. Almost. He actually had a life now. A friend who wasn’t also a coworker. He went on a date. Sure, there were things to be desired. He still had nightmares. Anxiety. He still wrestled with the ghosts of his past and the fear of his future. But he was doing better. And while it was all you ever wanted for him, it stung knowing you didn’t get to see him make these strides in real time. 

“Wow, you’ve been busy,” you said when he finally finished. “I gotta know more about your lunch dates with this Yori guy- that is adorable.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and laughed his first genuine laugh in months. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I met him as part of my amends, but I-”

A harsh knock at the door cut him off. Both your eyes and Bucky’s slid in the direction of the sound. And though neither of you said a word, the air in the room changed. It grew thick and heavy, weighted down with an almost sickening dread. 

Bucky locked eyes with you, his stare tunneling through your skull. 

“It’s him, isn’t it?” he said, keeping his voice low.

You nodded. 

A guttural groan clawed and kicked at your throat, but you refused to set it free.  

His voice was low, his volume calculated, “We’ll just be quiet.” Bucky glanced at the door once more, waiting for another round of knocks. “He won’t know we’re here, okay?”  

You could barely hear him over the hum of the fridge, the sounds of the city. You gave a slow, subtle nod, fearing the sound even the slightest motion might make.

“I know you’re in there, Barnes,” Alex’s voice punched through the door. “I saw your bike downstairs.” He knocked again, his knuckled booming against the door. Your blood stopped in its tracks. You could’ve sworn you felt it settle in your veins.

Bucky stood from the couch with a nearly silent, “It’s okay”. He hated the way your face dropped, the way your knuckles changed color as you gripped the pillow in your lap. 

“Barnes!” Alex practically growled through the door, “open up!”

“Come with me.” Bucky’s voice was barely audible, but still the most comforting sound you’d ever heard. He helped you from the couch, steadying you as the anxiety sent tremors through your every nerve. He guided you to his room with quiet, careful steps. He noted the way you yanked your shoulders upward, the way you kept your eyes on the floor. 

Bucky hated the effect Alex had on you. He turned you into a hollow, fragile version of yourself that Bucky found nearly unrecognizable. He chipped away at your confidence and self-esteem, using precise, masterful blows to your weakest points. He reduced you to a pile of dust and shards of your old self. 

Bucky wished to turn Alex into nothing but a memory.

“Just stay in here till he’s gone. Don’t come out,” Bucky said once you reached his room. He rested a palm to your cheek for the briefest of seconds, “I’m gonna take care of it, okay?”

And before you had a chance to relish in the warmth of his skin against yours, he vanished.

His footsteps grew more distant as he made his way to the front door. With each centimeter he put between the two of you, you grew more anxious, more uncomfortable. He was your safety blanket, your rock. Without him, you’d learned to cope. You survived. But you never truly thrived. And now that you got your fix of him, being without him for even a second left you unable to breathe.

Bucky opened the door, feigning a look of surprise, “Alex- wow, hey. How are you? Haven’t seen you in-”

“Cut the bullshit. I’m not in the mood.” Alex’s tone sliced clear through Bucky’s attempt at casual levity. “Where is she?”

Bucky cocked his head to the side, “What?”

You could practically see Alex rolling his eyes, curling his hands into fists. “Don’t gimme that- you know what I’m talking about.”

Bucky gave pause and shook his head. “I really don’t…” Part of him feared he may be doing too much. He knew he had to perfectly toe the line without overplaying his role of ‘confused ex-best friend’. The last thing he wanted was to fuck this up, to let it slip that he was harboring you in his home. He knew it would be bad for you, that Alex would make your life a living hell if he found out. And he was damn sure not going to let that happen. “Is everything okay, man? It’s pretty late.”

Alex’s glare tunneled through Bucky’s skull, “Where’s my girlfriend, James?” 

It wasn’t a question- but an accusation.

“What do you mean?” Bucky coatedhis words in a thick layer of concern. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, she’s-” Alex huffed. He was over it. His paper-thin patience shredded into sharp, tiny pieces. “I know you know where she is. I know she probably called you or something.”

“She didn’t-”

A knowing look crossed Alex’s features and quickly devolved into one of betrayal, of disgust. “Is she here- she’s here isn’t she?”

Bucky’s heart sank into the swirling pit in his stomach. He couldn’t mess this up. He couldn’t ruin the sanctuary you sought in his home. This was your safe place, your peace. And he had to protect it. “Is she here? No. Why would she be here?”

“Don’t lie to me.” 

 “I haven’t seen her.” Bucky raised his hands in surrender, “We haven’t spoken in- she hasn’t contacted me in over a year.” Saying the words out loud hit him in a way he hadn’t expected. It prodded at him like a fireplace poker, hot from the flames. God, he missed you.

“Right…” Alex rolled his eyes. “Of course. Just fuckin… whatever, man. If you so happen to see her, tell her to get home. Soon.” He turned on his heel and backed out of Bucky’s doorway, a snide look on his face.  

Bucky wanted to separate Alex’s head from his body. This man didn’t wish for your homecoming as a concerned boyfriend. He didn’t hope for your safe return or ask for help finding you. Not a sliver of worry even came close to piercing his arrogant, callous surface. He’d let you spill out onto the late-night streets, hurt and distraught, as a torrential downpour drowned the city. He didn’t care that you had no means of transport. No wallet. He didn’t care that your clothes didn’t protect you from the freezing rain. 

And he walked away from Bucky cocky. He left threats hanging in the air. He wanted you home as a means of control. Of punishment. 

But at least he was gone. He stalked off, mumbling something about you “learning your lesson”. It made Bucky nauseous. He wanted to keep you in his apartment for as long as possible. At least, that way, he’d know you were out of Alex’s reach. 

He didn’t want to think about how your return home would play out, how Alex would treat you when you finally walked through the door. Something- a lot of things- about Alex didn’t sit right with Bucky. Alex struck him as a manipulator, a narcissist. Someone to fear. He could understand why you’d walk far too many blocks in the freezing, torrential rain just to get away.

Bucky shut the door and turned the deadbolt. He secured the chain. Even checked through the peephole to make sure Alex hadn’t returned. He couldn’t be too careful- not when you were involved. “Alright, he’s gone,” Bucky called as he headed in your direction. “He’s an intense guy, I didn’t-”

But as Bucky entered his bedroom, he found it empty. “He’s gone, I swear. You don’t have to hide anymore.” Bucky popped his head into the closet and bathroom but found no sign of you. “Hey, where’d you go?” 

The sound of the dryer door, however, tipped him off.

He discovered you in his small laundry room, retrieving your clothes from the dryer. 

“Oh, I don’t think those are all the way dry yet. You know this thing is kinda old,” he gave the dryer a gentle kick. “You should probably leave your stuff in there a little while longer.”

You didn’t answer. 

Bucky watched you fish your underwear out of the bottom of the dryer. He offered to help when your shirt got tangled with your shorts. But you stayed quiet. You kept your back to him and your gaze downcast, focused on the wet fabric in your hands.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Bucky placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I know Alex showing up wasn’t exactly ideal, but he’s gone. And I-” 

Without a word, you turned to face him; only then did he notice the tears streaming down your face. They met under your chin and curved down your neck, dampening the fabric of Bucky’s sweatshirt. He’d never seen a more sorrowful, gutted expression cross your face- save for the last time he saw you. 

Sharp, shallow inhales shook in and out of your chest. And even if you wanted to, you couldn’t force yourself to meet his eyeline.

“Oh no-” Bucky’s heart shattered. His chest tightened and his stomach dropped. He hated seeing you upset, seeing you cry. Immediately, he wondered what he’d done to make you feel this way.

“What’s goin’ on?” His voice was gentle, his tone soft. He didn’t demand an answer, like Alex so often did. No, he simply helped guide your words to the surface. He was patient and understanding as you caught your breath, didn’t make any condescending comments about your emotions. Bucky was always kind, always empathetic. He never rushed you. Never forced you to speak before you were ready.  

And when you finally found your words, they came out quiet, shameful. “I heard what you said…”

Bucky quickly ran through his conversation with Alex and came up empty. What did he do? What did he say that hurt you like this? But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find the answer. “Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, I- what did I say?”

“About us not talking-” You lifted your head, showing Bucky your red, glassy eyes. “About me not contacting you for over a year.”

Bucky shrugged. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I was just-”

“I shouldn’t be here.” You dropped your damp clothes on top of the washer and tugged at the knots Bucky tied in your sweatpants. “I shouldn’t be wearing your clothes-” You struggled to free yourself from the tightly knotted drawstring. “I shouldn’t be complaining to you. And I shouldn’t- I just shouldn’t be here.”

A low groan rumbled out of your throat as you gave up untying Bucky’s skillful knots. All you wanted was to get out of his clothes, out of his apartment, and out of his hair. A storm of guilt and shame pummeled you, drowning you in regret. Coming here was wrong. Selfish.

“I have no right to be here,” you said, slumping against the dryer and sliding to the floor. “I have no right to come to you for help.”

“What do you- Yes, you do.” Bucky couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Of course, you do. You will alwayshave the right to be here.”

Another tidal wave of tears poured down your cheeks. Bucky was so kind- too kind- to you. Too forgiving. Too understanding. Too good. All you could do was shake your head and apologize. Vehemently.

“I’m so sorry…” you said, your voice cracking. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

Bucky took the spot next to you on the floor, close enough for you to feel his familiar body heat. “You don’t have to be sorry-”

“Yes, I do- I fucked up. I chose him.” You dried your tears with the sleeve of the sweatshirt Bucky held onto just for you. “He gave me an ultimatum and I- I chose wrong.”

Bucky took your hand in one of his but didn’t speak. He simply let you ride out your latest wave of guilt and grief. He swiped this thumb over your knuckles every now and then, keeping you grounded. And when you finally caught your breath, he spoke.

“I don’t think… I don’t think it was ever about you choosing between dating Alex or being friends with me,” he said. “You needed to choose yourself. To choose what was best for you, what would make you happy. And at the time,” Bucky shrugged, “you thought being with him was for the best. So that’s what you did. I can’t fault you for that-”

You scoffed. It came out ugly, bitter, full of the disdain and contempt you held for yourself. “But I knew who he was. Even then.”

Bucky shrugged, “they call ‘em rose colored glasses for a reason-”

“Stop!” Your voice violently bounced off the walls of the small laundry room. “Stop making excuses for me- I want you to be mad at me!” Desperation clawed at your throat. You ripped your hand from Bucky’s, too overwhelmed by the kindness you didn’t deserve. “Be mad at me for abandoning you when I said I never would- be mad at me for being a horrible friend! Be mad at me for being stupid- and selfish!” Your balled up fists landed blows to your legs, your chest. If Bucky wasn’t going to berate you, the least you could do was deliver to yourself a fraction of the pain you deserved.

But two hands- one warm, one cold- wrapped gently around your wrists, stopping the abuse. You locked eyes with Bucky, tears blurring your vision. He’d never seen a look of such intense desperation.

“Just- be mad at me…” you stared at him, pleading. “Please.”

Bucky shook his head, “No.”

“Please… be mad at me. Yell at me. Do something.”

Bucky couldn’t help but think back on the old days. How many times had the two of you sat on the floor of this apartment? How many times had you helped Bucky off the literal and metaphorical ledge when his anxieties grew too strong? How many times had you exorcised the demons Hydra saddled him with? How many times had he tried to punish or hurt himself? And how many times had you stopped him?

Now, it was Bucky’s turn to do the same for you. “I was mad. Does that make you feel better?” He shot you a wink; it pulled the smallest of smiles from deep within you. 

He intertwined his fingers with yours, anchoring you to reality, to him. “But I wasn’t mad at you. I was just mad because- because I met you so late in life, you know? And I barely got any time with you. It wasn’t enough for me.” His voice grew thick with longing. He spent so any nights thinking about you, losing sleep over how much he missed you. He often wondered if you missed him, too. Wondered if you thought of him when you took the train or went to the market. Wondered if you ever walked down his street, just because. 

“But I was never mad at you. I’ve never been mad at you for pursuing the things with Alex. Or for going along with his ultimatum. I didn’t like it- I didn’t think that it was fair to you, but…” he shrugged. “I wanted- want- you to be happy.”

“But I left you-”

“I’ve lived a long life,” Bucky said. “Too long.”

You squeezed his hand, “I wouldn’t say that- I wouldn’t say ‘too long.’”

You always knew how to make Bucky laugh. “What I mean is… I’m living years that aren’t mine. I was never supposed to have this much time. But these years are meant for you. This is your life. And you’re entitled to go after the things you want.”

“But-”

“No. No ‘but’.” It wasn’t a reprimand, but a reminder. “What kind of friend would I be if I got mad at you for pursuing a relationship with someone you loved?”

 “But I didn’t just pursue that relationship-” a harsh flashback of the day you left ripped you apart from the inside out.  You remembered refusing Bucky’s invitation inside. Handing him the key he had made for you. You remembered biting back tears as you told him of Alex’s ultimatum, and your subsequent decision to go along with it. You remembered the look of utter heartbreak on Bucky’s face. He was gutted. Torn apart. Seeing him so despondent nearly made you sick. “I cut you off. Completely.”

“I know. But…” he shrugged. “You deserve to go after the things you want. And you wanted him. And I- I just wanted you to be happy.”

A sharp huff left your chest, “But I could’ve been stronger. I should’ve- I should’ve handled things better.” These same words swarmed your mind like angry bees on a daily basis. So many would’ves and could’ves and should’ves launched themselves at you, illustrating everything you did wrong. “I mean, jesus christ, I’m an adult! He gave me an ultimatum- I didn’t have to go along with it. I chose to. I’m in the wrong just as much as he is-”

“Hey- no.” Bucky’s intensity caught you off guard. “Look, I hope I’m not speaking out of turn here, but he’s a manipulator. Everything you ever told me about him screamed ‘manipulative’.”

You nodded. “Yeah, but I let him manipulate me-”

Bucky shut you down, “No. No, that’s not how manipulation works. Sure, you chose to be in a relationship with him. But you didn’t choose to be treated like shit. I saw-” Bucky’s free hand scratched at the fabric of his jeans. “I saw the way he acted tonight- if he’s like that all the time, I don’t blame you for going along with his ultimatum.” He grimaced, “I’m sure the consequences would’ve been bad if you chose otherwise.”

Bucky’s level of understanding and empathy almost made you angry. How was he this kind? How could he grant you this much grace? You felt yourself nearly going mad. He sensed the eyeroll, could practically feel your rebuttal bubbling below the surface. And before you could throw another ‘but’ at him, he continued. 

“You wanted to be with him. You thought- or hoped- that he was someone better. That’s not a crime. And I’m sure you wish you could go back in time and tell your past self not to get mixed up with him, but-”

“Yeah, but I-” you let loose a deep sigh. “I really just wish I could go back in time and tell past-me to stick with you. Always. To put you first.” A few more tears broke free from your lash line and rolled down your cheeks. “Cause you’re the person I care about most- you’ve always been then one who matters most to me. And I’m sorry I didn’t act like it. I’m sorry I didn’t make that obvious to you.”

“It’s all okay,” he nudged his shoulder with yours, “we’re okay.”

After a few deep breaths, you allowed your body to fall against his. Your head lay on his shoulder, your hands still intertwined. This was always how things were supposed to be: just you and Bucky against the world. No pain, no heartache, no ultimatums. Just trust. Kindness. Empathy.

“I’ve missed you every day,” your voice came out tight, barely audible as your tears made another appearance. 

Bucky unwound his hand from yours and opted instead to wrap his arm around your shoulders. “I’ve missed you too.”

“I regretted it, you know?” You lifted your head and looked him in the eye with intense urgency, “I regretted it instantly- I knew I shouldn’t have chosen him.”

He gave a simple shrug, “But it’s okay that you did.”

It was going to take some time for you to accept that Bucky didn’t hold a grudge. That he didn’t fault you. And that journey started there, on the floor of Bucky’s laundry room, with your body resting against his.

“I’m glad that… I’m glad I didn’t wait any longer to come back here.” You nestled closer to him, desperate to make up for lost time. “I’m glad it wasn’t too late.”

He stared down at you, confused. “Too late for what?” 

“Well, I’m sure you would’ve written me off after a certain point, you know? If I was gone for… five years, or something.” Just the thought of being away from Bucky that long made you miserable. “If I showed up here after all that time, it would’ve been too late for you to forgive me.”

Bucky shook his head, “First of all, you don’t need to be forgiven- you didn’t do anything wrong.” He hated the way you blamed yourself and dismissed your own difficulties over the last year. And he knew you too well to be able to ignore the heartbreak in your eyes, the pain behind your voice. You suffered in your relationship with Alex. He cut you off from your best friend, isolated you, sabotaged your self-esteem. You were a victim, even if you refused to believe it.

“Second of all- and this is important-” Bucky turned to face you dead on, and pressed his forehead to yours. “There is no ‘too late’ with us, doll. Ever.”

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[moonlightdawn1102]

'You Had Me At Hello'

Pairings: Single Mom Reader x Mob Boss Bucky Barnes, Slight Reader x OMC

Word Count: 2516

Warnings: Verbal Abuse, Slight Physical Abuse

Being a single mom wasn’t something you’d ever envisioned for yourself. You’d always thought that you’d be the type of woman to have the whole white picket fence lifestyle with a husband that loved you deeply. That didn’t happen though and instead you ended up dating some jerk of a businessman for three years until he left you at eight months pregnant for his secretary.

You should have seen it coming considering how pretentious and conceited he was, but you were a fool in love who held out hope that he’d change for the better. You thought the pregnancy would help the two of you become closer again, but it did the complete opposite.

In the long run, you supposed that walking in on Tommy fucking his secretary was a blessing in disguise. At the time you’d been heartbroken but now you were glad to no longer have him in your life despite the hardships you’d faced. You’d been able to get emergency housing due to the fact you were eight months pregnant when he kicked you out, but it hadn’t been easy and money was hard to come by, you'd done whatever you could just to scrape enough money together to get all of the necessities for your baby before they arrived.

When your daughter was born everything in your life changed, you’d never experienced a love like it before and you knew from that moment on that she would always be your number one priority. When Gracie turned one was when you officially went back to work, your neighbour helped out when she could with taking care of Gracie, but for the most part you’d have to take her with you. It wasn’t the best plan but you had no other choice, you needed the money and couldn’t leave Gracie alone.

That plan worked just fine until Gracie started attending preschool and your landlord decided to put your rent up by fifteen percent. After that you had to work two jobs just to make ends meet, ideally you would have worked three but you needed that time to spend with Gracie.

Today was one of those days where just about everything that could go wrong did. Firstly two people called in sick at the diner you worked at which meant that apart from the cook, you would be the only one working. Then Gracie’s preschool called and told you that you needed to pick her up because she’d bitten another student. By some miracle you’d managed to get a hold of your neighbour who picked Gracie up for you and dropped her off at the diner.

You hadn’t spoken to her about the incident at school yet because you were far too busy, but you planned on it once your shift finished. Currently, Gracie was sitting at the counter doing some colouring while you worked. If only that had been as stressful as your day would get, but apparently the universe hated you.

You walk over to the corner booth and smile brightly when you spot one of your regulars, James Barnes. He'd been coming to the diner for around four months now, he was always kind to you and always made sure to tip you generously. He tended to flirt with you, but it was never taken seriously on your part, you were sure that someone as handsome and as charming as James wouldn’t ever be interested in you. That didn’t mean you didn’t feel good when he’d make sweet remarks and flash that award winning smile at you. 

“Hey Sugar, you look beautiful today” he says with his signature smirk. You roll your eyes playfully and giggle gently, “James, I’ve been running around this place like a crazy woman. I couldn’t look less beautiful. Now would you like the usual?” you say with a smile. James leans back in his seat and looks you over, “Firstly, I’ve told you to call me Bucky. Secondly, you look as beautiful as ever. Thirdly, you shouldn’t have to run around this place to begin with, you should have someone to take care of you. But yeah, I’ll have my usual please” he says softly. You blush and nod your head, “I’ll bring it over in a minute” you say with a slight smile. 

Bucky always ordered the same thing which was a black coffee and a slice of pie. You grab the coffee pot and pour him a cup before placing a slice of lemon meringue pie on a plate. You turn around to walk back over to Bucky, but are stopped in your tracks at the man walking inside the diner. What the hell was Tommy doing here?

You hadn’t seen him since he’d kicked you out on the street. Your hands were shaking and you threw the cup and plate down on the counter, “Pumpkin, come here” you said quickly to your daughter. Gracie hopped down from the stool and came over to you, Tommy was walking this way and you felt like you were going to pass out. 

You picked Gracie up and held her on your hip, you couldn’t let her be a part of this especially considering the fact you’d told her that her father was in heaven. You look around for a way out before your eyes land on Bucky, you swallow thickly and walk over to him, “I..I’m really sorry to ask, but could you please just watch my daughter for a minute? I need to take care of something and I..” you begin to ramble.

Bucky shakes his head and gestures for you to put Gracie in the booth opposite him, “It’s no problem. I love kids and she seems like an angel” he says softly. You felt relief flood your system and you set Gracie down, “Be good Pumpkin. Stay here with Mr Bucky” you say before pressing a kiss to her head.

“Y/N, I want to speak to you. Is that her?” you hear Tommy call out from behind you. Taking a calming breath, you walk over and grab hold of him before pulling him out of the back entrance. “Who the hell do you think you are Tommy?! I haven’t seen you in over three years. You don’t just get to turn up and announce yourself to my daughter!” you exclaim.

Tommy scoffs slightly, “Our daughter, Y/N. I’ve spent two months tracking you down. I’m her father and I want to see her. You either let me see her, or I file for custody. Who do you think will win that court case? The struggling mother who can barely afford to clothe her or the father who has the capability to send her to the best school in the state?” 

“Y..You can’t do that. You can’t take her away from me. I won’t let you, Tommy” you say firmly. He laughs and takes a step closer to you, “Oh yeah? And how do you plan on stopping me? You’re still the pathetic little fool that you’ve always been. You were just an easy fuck, Y/N. That’s the only reason I put up with you for so long, but I’ll be damned if I let my daughter grow up to be like her mother” he says flatly.

You couldn’t handle his words of torment any longer and slapped him hard across the face, it was the only time since you’d met Tommy that you’d ever stuck up for yourself. It might not have been the brightest idea though, because the next second Tommy had his hand around your throat and had knocked your head against the wall. You groan out in pain and try to pull his hand away, “You stupid fucking bitch” he snarls out, he raised his fist to hit you but it never made contact.

Suddenly, he wasn’t anywhere near you and Bucky was standing in front of you. He lifted your chin with his fingers to check over your face before turning your head gently to check the cut on the back of your head from when it had hit the wall, “Hey Sugar, are you alright?” he said softly. You nod gently but wince at the pain in your head, “I don’t think you are. I’ll take you to the doctor, you’ve got quite a nasty cut” he says sympathetically.

Tommy stands back up from the ground where Bucky had thrown him, “Hey man, get the fuck out of here. My girl and I were just talking” he shouts. Anger flickered behind Bucky’s eyes at Tommy’s words, he turned around to stare Tommy down and you saw the fear that immediately consumed Tommy, it was almost as if he recognised Bucky. 

“M..Mr Barnes..I..I didn’t know it was you” he stutters out. Bucky laughs darkly, “So you know who I am? And what do I do for a living, correct?” he asks calmly. Tommy quickly nods his head and holds his hands up in defence, “Yes..Yes of course” he says, you’d never seen Tommy look afraid of anyone so why did he look like he was about to cry in front of James? Bucky hums gently, “Right, so do you want to explain to me why you put your hands on my girl?” he asks.

Your eyes flicker to Bucky in confusion, you weren’t his..Not that you hadn’t dreamt about it. Tommy glances at you, “Wait..Wait..You’re dating him? You let a man like that around our daughter but won’t let me speak to her? Do you even know who he is?” he spits out. You swallow thickly and fiddle with your fingers, “You kicked me out and left me for your secretary while I was eight months pregnant. You don’t get to dictate who I date or sleep with, and you definitely don’t get to tell me who I bring around MY daughter” you say firmly while taking a step forward to stand by Bucky’s side.

He looked proud of you and subtly reached for your hand squeezing it softly. Tommy looked like he was about to blow a gasket and scoffs loudly, “You know what, you’re not even worth it. You’ll come crawling back when he moves on to his next whore” he says before straightening his suit and making his way out of the alleyway.

You let out a sigh of relief and let go of Bucky’s hand but he just holds it tighter refusing to let you part ways, “What do you think you’re doing Sugar?��� he asks. You blush and look up at him, “Well..I..erm..I figured that you were just putting on a show to get him to leave. I can take myself to the doctors, it’s no big deal” you say quietly. 

“Oh Sugar, I wasn’t putting on a show. I meant every word that I said. You’re my girl. You have been ever since I walked into this diner. I’ve just been waiting for you to realise it” he says with his usual charming smile. Your mouth drops open in shock at his words, “Wh..What? But I’m..I’m not..You could do so much better, I’m not the type of woman you want by your side. I mean, you’re..You know..From a certain societal class and I’m a single mother working two jobs” you say quietly.

Bucky laughs softly, “None of that matters to me, Sugar. I’ve been trying to do this at your pace, but clearly I wasn’t obvious enough. So, Y/N would you please let me take you out on a date?” he asks with a smile. You were about to answer when you heard crying, a tall blonde man walked out the back of the diner with Gracie in his arms. You felt your body freeze up at this strange man holding your crying daughter, you were about to lose it when he spoke whilst looking at Bucky.

“I’m sorry Buck, she won't stop crying” he says while bouncing Gracie up and down. You walk over and Gracie immediately calms down, you take her from the man and glance back at Bucky. He shakes his head with a smile, “Don’t worry about it. Y/N this is Steve, he’s my right hand man, but more importantly he’s like my brother” he says to you which allows you to relax.

At least Gracie hadn’t been left with some random man, “It’s nice to meet you Steve” you say softly. He nods his head with a polite smile, “It’s nice to finally meet you too. Buck hasn’t stopped talking about you for weeks” he says with a chuckle. You let out a laugh and smile brightly before remembering what Bucky had said, “Wait, you said that he’s your right hand man. What is it you do for work?” you ask curiously. Steve stares at Bucky and shakes his head, “You haven’t told her? Jesus Buck. You need to tell her, I’ll wait for you in the car” he says with a sigh. He gives you a friendly smile before walking back into the diner.

Bucky scratches the back of his head which makes you narrow your eyes in suspicion, “What is it? What do you do?” you ask firmly. He sighs softly, “I’m..erh..involved with some not so legal activities” he says vaguely. “What kind of illegal activities?” you ask. He looks at the ground before making eye contact with you, “I may or may not be a mob boss..” he says with a slight laugh.

You just stare at him in shock for a few minutes and try to process what he’d just told you. There was no way that this sweet and lovely man could be a mob boss, he was like a damn cupcake half the time and made you feel safer than anyone had in years. “I know it’s a lot to process and if you want me to leave and never come back then I’ll do it. But I just want you to know that I like you Y.N, I want you in every way imaginable and I want to take care of you. I want to be the man that you deserve. I want to be there for you and Gracie if you’ll let me” he says softly.

His words made any resolve you had left crumble into pieces, you decided that you didn’t care what he did for work as long as he treated you and Gracie in the way that he’d promised. You smile up at him before leaning up and pressing a deep kiss to his lips, “Eww mommy..” Gracie whines which makes you laugh and pull away from Bucky.

You look at him with a light in your eyes that hadn't been there since you were a child, “Well, I can speak confidently when I say that we want you. I just want to know if this is really what you want. Are you sure you want us?” you say softly. Bucky chuckles gently and shakes his head fondly, “Sugar, you had me at hello” 

[sjsmith56]

Still Friends

Summary: One shot. Two years after breaking up, the OFC calls her ex-boyfriend, Bucky, for help after her current boyfriend assaults her.

Length: 4.5 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, OFC (unnamed and undescribed), OMC (named, undescribed)

Warnings: Contains description of abusive behaviour and physical assault. OFC experiences angst after realizing leaving Bucky was a mistake.

Author notes: This is nurturing Bucky, who also shows some restraint by accepting his ex-girlfriend needed to work out her issues without pressure from him.

📱 🍨 ❤️‍🩹

As far as breakups go it wasn’t a bad one. There were still tears on both sides but there were also hugs after I told Bucky that I didn’t think we had a future together. Between my job as a travelling sales representative and his work an Avenger we didn’t see each other much. The sex was great, but it wasn’t enough to base a real relationship on. He was sad about my decision, but he helped me pack my things that I had left at his place, and we talked about where we went sideways. There was no blame; it was just how it went. As I stood at the door and hugged him again, he bent his head down and whispered in my ear.

“If you ever need me, I’ll be there for you. We’re still friends, sweetheart. That will never change.”

That was almost two years ago. A few months later, I accepted a job as a regional sales manager, in another city. There was less travel and I had time to date. Nothing serious developed but I was okay with that. Bucky was in the news every so often, only now the news stories were about the Avenger Bucky Barnes and not the former Winter Soldier. I was so proud of him and occasionally sent him a text message congratulating him on a job well done. He would send back pictures of him and Sam with the team they had assembled. He looked happy and I was glad for him.

Then I met a guy, Bryce Andrews, a very charming pharmaceutical sales manager. We hit it off quickly. Looking back now, maybe it was a bit too quickly, but at the time it just seemed like things were falling into place at the right moment. It wasn’t until Bucky and Sam were on a publicity tour of various cities and contacted me to arrange to meet up that things with Bryce took a turn.

We were at dinner in a restaurant. During the time between our plates being cleared and our desserts arriving I received a text message, and several more in a row.

“Excuse me,” I said, grabbing my phone. “Someone must need me.”

I looked. They started from Bucky: Going to be in your city next week for some publicity. Can we get together? That was followed by a text from Sam with the same message. Then texts from both asking if now was a bad time to call, since I hadn’t responded.

“Who is it?” asked Bryce, seeming curious, but good natured about the interruption.

“Oh, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes,” I replied. “They’re coming on a publicity tour and wanted to get together. Do you mind if I call them?”

He blinked his eyes, then narrowed them. Now, in our line of work, especially considering how much networking we did outside of normal office hours, it wasn’t unusual for either of us to make or receive calls to and from other representatives. It was part of the job. Even though this would be a personal call, I didn’t think he would mind.

“We’re eating,” he said.

“Well, then let me text them that I’ll call them later,” I said, eager to please him.

A grunt was his answer, but I sent them a text message that I couldn’t talk at the moment, but I would phone later. I put my phone away, our dessert was served, and we ate, talking about all manner of things, except it seemed I was doing most of the talking. He was quieter than normal but not in a way that alarmed me. Since we met at the restaurant, after driving our own cars there, we said our good nights and I started my car up, then set up a conference call with Sam and Bucky so we could talk as I drove. It was great hearing from them, and we decided to see each other that following week. I really wanted them to meet Bryce, hoping they would get along. It was all set by the time I got home, parked my car, and locked it before I walked to my building, where I was surprised to see Bryce waiting for me.

“What’s up?” I asked, puzzled.

“Show me your phone,” he said, holding his hand out.

“Why?”

“Did you talk to them?”

Just the way he asked, set me off. “Yeah, I told you I was.”

“Are you cheating on me?”

“What?” I couldn’t believe he would ask something like that. “I haven’t seen them in two years. How could I cheat on you with friends I haven’t seen in that long?”

Suddenly, his hand was on my throat as he pushed me against the wall. “I always knew you weren’t over him. You’re going back to him, aren’t you? You’re going back to that killer?”

I struggled against Bryce, trying to push him off me. This was bizarre behaviour, and I was getting scared.

“No, I just set up meeting them for drinks, you, me, and them. That’s all. What’s got into you?”

“You’re mine! Do you hear me? You text them back and cancel it.”

“No, they’re my friends. I want to see them.”

The next thing I knew I was on the ground, my head ringing from where he struck me. A neighbour came out of the security door then, quickly assessing the situation. He gave me enough time to get through the door and close it before Bryce could follow. My now ex-boyfriend banged on the glass, his face full of unrestrained fury so I called the police and reported that he hit me, and I was afraid for my safety. They came within minutes, arrested him and I went up to my apartment, packed a bag and got in my car. As I drove, I phoned Bucky back. It took several rings before he answered, sounding like he had been sleeping.

“Sweetheart? Why are you phoning so late?”

“Do you still have access to a quinjet?”

Immediately, his voice changed, not sounding so sleepy anymore. “What’s wrong?”

“My boyfriend. He went off the deep end about us meeting next week. He hit me, Bucky. I had to call the police on him. I’m scared to stay home. I’m in my car right now but it’s too far to drive to where you are so I was hoping you could come and get me.”

“Where are you?” he asked.

I told him and he was quiet for a moment. He must have been looking it up on a tablet because he told me the name of a private airport about 15 minutes drive away. Told me to go there, stay in the car with the doors locked and wait for him. He would be there as soon as he could. When I arrived, I parked away from the other vehicles, figuring he would need room to land the quinjet. As I sat there in the dark my phone began to sound and I could see text after text from Bryce.

I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.

Please, call me or send me a text.

I’m being charged with assault. You sure you want to lay that on me?

Why don’t you answer?

Listen, if I say I’m sorry and promise to go for counselling can you drop the charges? I might lose my job over this.

There was nothing after that and I realized they had probably taken his phone away. I received another text, this one from Sam.

Almost there. Where are you?

In the parking lot, away from the other vehicles. Red Lexus SUV. I’ll flash the lights.

When I saw the lights of the quinjet approaching I flashed my brights and stepped out of the vehicle. Bucky was at the controls and landed right beside me. The back ramp came down and both stepped out immediately. As soon as I saw them, I began to cry. All I remember at that moment, was feeling their arms surround me, hugging me, and murmuring that I was alright. Sam stepped back, took my car keys and went to the trunk for my bag while Bucky led me into the quinjet. As he buckled me into a seat, he looked carefully at my face, gently touching it. It hurt and I winced.

“He did this to you?”

There was no anger in his voice as he asked, but I knew he was angry, just by the set of his jaw and the look in his eyes. I nodded. Sam strode on with my bag and his phone at his ear.

“Red Lexus SUV, at the location I told you. I have the keys, so you’ll have to transport the vehicle with a tow truck or flatbed trailer. I want it picked up and taken to a secure location within 24 hours.”

He was quiet while they repeated it back to him, then he hung up and kneeled in front of me, doing the same thing Bucky did, except from the mindset of his former para-rescue occupation, asking me if I blacked out, or greyed out, and if my head or neck hurt. When I winced at his touch he shook his head, obviously angry. Then he had me follow his upright finger with my eyes without moving my head. Gently, he cupped my cheek with his palm then stood up and looked meaningfully at Bucky.

“He doesn’t get away with it,” he said to his partner. “You know that type of reaction is jealousy, and it will just get worse now that he’s let his façade slip. I wish we had done something sooner.”

“What do you mean, sooner?” I didn’t quite understand what Sam meant.

Bucky let out a deep breath. “When you first told us about him, we checked him out. I know, that was technically spying but we still care about you and weren’t going to let just anyone be your boyfriend.”

“You’ve been interfering in my love life?” I could feel the anger in me ratcheting up to 100. “You had no right!”

“You’re right,” agreed Bucky. “But we just wanted you to be safe and happy with a good guy. Bryce seemed to be alright but there were moments in his past that made us wonder if he was as nice as he presented himself to be. What happened tonight, proved he wasn’t.”

Even though they were right, I was still angry, and I sat there with my arms folded, fuming. Bucky returned to the quinjet controls while Sam sat next to me and buckled in. To his credit, he didn’t try to talk me out of being upset at them. Half an hour later we were at the airport in the city where they were appearing. Sam called for an Uber. As we waited for it to arrive, he and Bucky stood closely together, murmuring, looking at me every so often. Sighing, I went over to them.

“If you’re going to talk about me, at least do it to my face,” I said, irritated.

“Just discussing the sleeping arrangements,” said Bucky. “We have a double King room. You can have one bed; Sam will take the other and I’ll take the floor.”

“I can pay for my own room,” I replied.

“No, what if he finds out you’re here?” asked Sam. “You’re staying with us. You can take a few days off of work, can’t you?”

“Possibly, if my boss is okay with it. Where do you go next?”

Sam rattled off the next three towns they were in before they got to where I lived. They both promised to help me deal with Bryce if he showed up. By the time we got to their hotel I was beat. Bucky went into the bathroom and came out several minutes later.

“I’ve run a bath for you,” he said gently. “Take your time and relax. We’ll talk when you’re done.”

I would have argued but he seemed so sincere that I grabbed my pyjamas and went into the bathroom. When I came out, the TV was on, and Sam was on top of the other bed, in sweatpants and a T-shirt. The other king-sized bed had been turned down, but Bucky wasn’t in the room.

“He went to grab some snacks,” explained Sam. “Get comfortable. Anything you want to watch?”

I shook my head as I dropped my clothes off on my suitcase and climbed into the other bed, with my phone in hand. There were no other messages from Bryce. Hopefully, that meant he was in custody and not plotting his revenge. The sound of the door being unlocked made both of us look at it and we watched as Bucky came in, carrying a bag and a covered paper cup. He toed his boots off and approached the beds. He placed the paper cup on the nightstand nearest me then reached inside the bag, pulling out a wrapped package, and handing it to Sam.

“Po’ Boy, with lots of hot sauce,” he said. He smiled at me, pulling out a small carton of rocky road ice cream and a spoon. “Comfort food, if I remember correctly.”

“Thanks,” I smiled, taking it from him. “It is.”

He pulled out a submarine sandwich for himself, then two bottles of beer, handing one to Sam. I looked at the paper cup which he had placed on the nightstand nearest me.

“Hot chocolate for you, to warm you up between brain freezes.”

“You still remember?”

“Of course.” He gestured to the space on the bed next to me and I patted it. “I would never forget that.”

Bryce never remembered my love of rocky road ice cream and hot chocolate. In fact, he thought it was stupid that I needed to warm up between bites of ice cream whenever I was feeling stressed. My mouth started to tremble and before I knew it the tears started to fall. Both men placed their food down and sat so they were on either side of me. Sam took my ice cream and put it on the nightstand then put his arm around my shoulders while Bucky held my hands.

“Why did I ever break up with you?” I whimpered, feeling pretty sorry for myself. “You both came out late to get me, then you make a special trip to get my comfort foods and act like its no big deal that you remember it two years after we broke up.”

“Hey, I told you that we’re still friends,” said Bucky, in a voice that was so kind. “I still love you and care about you. Sam still cares. It was our phone call that made Bryce react so poorly.”

“No, don’t blame yourselves,” I said emphatically. “If it wasn’t this, it would have been something else that set him off. I look back now at what attracted me to him and it’s obvious that he wasn’t sincere. It was all an act and I bought into it because maybe I was still trying to convince myself that breaking up with you was the right thing to do. The fact that you two were still watching out for me means that you saw through him long before I did.”

They glanced at each other in the way that good friends do when they need to say something unpleasant to another friend. Sam cleared his throat first.

“We didn’t have anything concrete on him when you two first started to go out. On the surface, everything seemed good and as long as he treated you right, we respected your privacy.”

“But?” I looked at him, then at Bucky. “There is a but, right?”

Bucky let his breath out. “There was a complaint laid against him about twelve years ago, when he was in college. Another student, a woman, said he wouldn’t leave her alone. Always sending her gifts, calling her and checking on her location. It came to a head at a function where her brother hugged her, and Bryce punched him, apparently thinking he was a rival for her affections. He went for anger management counselling and since then his behaviour was acceptable. Because he didn’t seem to be obsessive about you, we figured whatever his issues were then were no longer a concern. We were wrong.” Gently, he pushed some hair over my ear. “You got hurt because we gave him the benefit of the doubt. We’re both so sorry.”

I looked at the ice cream and reached for it, jamming a spoonful into my mouth. After the third spoonful I started to cry again and this time Sam took the ice cream, put the lid back on and stuck it in the freezer portion of the mini bar. He grabbed his jacket, his Po’ Boy, and left me there with Bucky.

“Come here,” he said gently, leaning back against the headboard and pulling me into his lap. “Don’t blame yourself for him being abusive. We should have paid attention to our first instincts about him.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that.” He felt so warm and secure as I snuggled deeper into his arms. “I’m upset with myself for thinking that what we had wasn’t enough. Being with you here right now, it’s obvious that I was fooling myself.”

“Sweetheart, at the time, you had valid concerns about us,” he answered. “If you recall, I didn’t try very hard to change your mind. What you were feeling obviously resonated with me.”

“And now? Do you miss me?”

“All the time.” He kissed my head. “But I knew it was important for you to find yourself again, so I let you go.”

I hesitated before asking my next question. “Are you seeing anyone?”

I could see his smile begin. “No, haven’t been looking, either.”

“Are we still just friends?”

“We’ll always be friends, I hope. Do you want it to be more?”

His right hand was rubbing my left arm as I contemplated his question. Had I missed him? Honestly, yes. He was always good at this, comforting me and validating my feelings whenever I felt insecure. How had I not considered this emotional aspect of our previous relationship when I ended it? Was I so wrapped up in my career at that time that I overlooked how good he could make me feel, not just with this type of intimacy but with our sexual relationship? Bryce didn’t even come close to Bucky in those aspects, nor in any other aspect that counted.

“Yes, I want it to be more.”

“What about your work? I don’t want you choosing between your career and me.”

“My career ….” I sighed. “It’s okay but I think I would like a change, especially since I don’t want to be in the same town as Bryce anymore. I’d rather be closer to you.”

“You’re sure?” His blue eyes were focused on me. “Is this what you really want? I’m not a rebound, am I?”

“No, you were the one that got away. I’m sorry I ever broke up with you. You gave me the time and distance to work it out and it just took me this long to realize that you’re the one I want to be with.”

He caressed the side of my head, as he gazed into my eyes. This is what I had really missed, having someone making me feel like I was the most important person in their life. Even when I ended it before he didn’t stop liking me, constantly reassuring me that we were still friends. Our lips met and for the first time in two years I felt another part of what I had been missing. His kiss was gentle and loving. When I winced after he touched the part of my jaw that still hurt, he stopped and hugged me again. Then he made sure that I was looking directly at him.

“I never stopped loving you and wanting you back,” he said quietly. “We’ll make it work this time. I promise.”

“I love you, too,” I whispered.

Bucky’s phone sounded and he picked it up, reading the text. “Sam wants to know if we’ve kissed and made up.”

“Yeah, let him come back,” I replied. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor, either. But it’s just cuddling tonight.”

He smiled in that sexy, lopsided way that I missed so much, as he texted Sam.

“I’ll get us our own room for the other nights, if you want.”

I was definitely okay with that. Sam returned, immediately noticing we were both happier. He offered to get a different room but we both told him it was late, and we would wait until the following night. Bucky quickly ate his sub, I finished my hot chocolate, leaving the ice cream for another time. We all brushed our teeth then got into bed, Sam on his own and Bucky sharing his bed with me. It felt great to have him spoon behind me again, and I slept well.

I gave my notice to my boss the next morning, who was sorry to lose me but when I told him what happened he offered to kick Bryce’s ass. Apparently, he also thought my ex-boyfriend had some issues with jealousy, explaining how Bryce had threatened several guys at the staff Christmas party about being overly friendly with me. Just like Bucky and Sam, he felt guilty about not taking it more seriously.

Three days later, on our return to the town where I lived, there had been no word from Bryce, although I was called in by a detective to answer some questions. It seemed that Bryce claimed he lost his temper after finding out I was cheating on him. Both Bucky and Sam, who accompanied me, showed the detective their text messages as proof that they only asked about meeting up with both of us. My text messages were also taken as evidence. My neighbour had already given his statement which verified that he witnessed Bryce hitting me hard enough to knock me down. They had security camera footage of that and of him grabbing me by the throat. His excuse wasn’t enough to justify the extreme use of force he displayed. From the police station I went with Bucky and Sam to the hospital where they were doing a PR visit in several wards, visiting sick kids and veterans with health issues.

Instead of staying at a hotel I offered my apartment to both Bucky and Sam, as I had two bedrooms. Since it was the last stop of the tour, they offered to help me pack up my possessions and arrange for movers to clear me out of the apartment. When we pulled up in the Uber, after the hospital visit, I was disturbed but not surprised to see Bryce waiting for me. He scowled when Bucky and Sam got out of the vehicle with me.

“Where the hell have you been? I want to talk to you.”

“Haven’t had any messages since you were first arrested but that could be because you were ordered not to contact me,” I replied, attempting to walk past him. He grabbed my elbow and immediately, Bucky and Sam grabbed him. I glared at Bryce. “Take your hands off me.”

“Not until you tell me where you’ve been.”

Bucky started to speak but I interrupted him. “Don’t, he’s trying to goad you two into hitting him. Notice how he’s in position in front of the security cameras? That’s why the charges I filed against him will stick because they caught everything he did to me.” They both let him go and I pulled my arm out of his grip. “Get this through your thick head. The moment you accused me of cheating we were done. You made a bad situation worse by grabbing me around the neck and then hitting me hard enough to knock me down. Compounding that is the fact that I found out you threatened some of my work colleagues not to be friendly with me. I also found out about the woman you harassed in college and how you hit her brother for hugging her. There is something seriously wrong with you, Bryce, if you think I’m going to overlook all that and allow you into my life again.”

“But I love you,” he said. “I thought we were going to get married and have a family someday.”

“No, we’re not and you don’t love me. You don’t even know my favourite colour or my comfort food.”

He stared blankly at me. With a sound of disgust, I pushed past him, and he tried to grab me again. I turned and kicked him in the groin, making him fall to his knees while he held what was left of his dignity, which wasn’t much to begin with. As he gasped for air, Bucky held the door open for me and Sam as we entered the building. Then I closed the security door, shaking my head at the sight of Bryce, still on his knees. I phoned the detective and told him about the encounter, knowing that Bryce had been warned about contacting me. Assured that a unit was coming to pick him up, I left him there and the three of us took the elevator to my floor. Bucky put his arm around me and kissed me on the head.

“I’m sure glad we stayed friends after we broke up,” he said. “You got a mean streak in you.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “Baby, that was sexy as hell.”

He kissed me again, and squeezed me against his side, a big grin on his face. Sam was also quite impressed. By the time we got up to the apartment we were in a good mood, and we enjoyed ourselves that evening with pizza, beer and a movie. Sam stayed for a couple of days before being called for a mission. He flew the quinjet back while Bucky took some personal leave to help me pack up.

If ever there was proof that he was committing to us, that action alone proved it. By the end of the week, my furniture had been picked up, my car was packed, and we prepared to drive back to the Avengers compound, where some new personnel quarters had been built. The individual units, complete with patios and yards, were just what we needed to begin living together again. I got a job on the compound, heading up the purchasing department, sourcing vendors, negotiating prices, and arranging for delivery of all sorts of materials needed for the Avengers. The best part was that with living there, I saw Bucky a lot more, as he followed through on his promise to make it work. We were still friends, of the best kind.

One Shots Masterlist

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[ao3feed-sambucky]

The Hottest Guy in the Pumpkin Patch

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/KzsCiyY by SunsetMaiden “This is perfect,” Sam said, smile weak and pensive, the slight heaviness that suddenly filled his chest upon uttering the word alerting him that something wasn’t right. Nothing had ever felt ‘perfect’ with Micah. Most days they teetered somewhere around just okay. Yet here he stood feeling completely safe, all wrapped up in Micah’s arms, wrapped up in his scent… Except… That wasn’t really Micah’s scent. And his arms felt different too. Sam’s stomach hardened as he took a shaky breath, his thoughts jumbled and flailing. He fumbled for his phone, striking the side button to bring his home screen to life as he spun around and cast light on the person behind him. To his horror, it wasn’t his boyfriend but a stranger staring back at him in bewildered panic. “Hi?” the guy, who looked to be about his age said, voice small and uncertain. “I’m Bucky.” OR: Sam meets his perfect match while waiting at a haunted house. Unfortunately, it’s not his current boyfriend. Words: 1995, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Sam Wilson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Sam Wilson (Marvel)/Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Meet-Cute, First Meetings, Light Angst, Hopeful Ending, Haunted Houses, Halloween, Teenage Dorks, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, sam/omc brief, Unhealthy Relationships, POV Sam Wilson (Marvel) read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/KzsCiyY

[princessmisery666]

Fake fic title: Wild Flowers at Sunset

Summary: Bucky uses an inopportune time to let you know how he feels about you.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: confident reader, Bucky being cocky (that’s a warning), sex work mentioned, prelude to smut, love confession. 

W/C: 1,134.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, you, OMC.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

A/N: thank you @justagirlinafandomworld for the inspo (even thought it took a while to kick in 💟)

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch

Graphics: made by me on canva.

Master Lists: Made Up Fic Titles // Bucky Barnes // All The Fandoms

“You’re doing great,” Bucky talks into his glass, taking a sip of the amber liquid that is never going to get him drunk. “Guy’s putty in those beautiful hands of yours.” Though he’s sitting across the bar, you're wearing an earpiece. He has a clear view of you and sees the corner of your mouth quirk up slightly. Then he can’t help himself. “God, this dude is a loser,” he sighs, “He hasn’t even asked one question about you. No wonder he has to pay for it.”

There’s that half smirk again, hiding behind a sip of your Appletini - which he knows you hate - but your date insisted on ordering for you. 

“Head of a tech startup company,” Bucky scoffs, “that’s code for I’m a keyboard warrior living in my Mom’s basement.” 

You splutter around your glass, and your date, Oliver, has the sense to offer you a napkin. “Sorry,” you say to your date, voice as sweet as your drink, but the finger you use to scratch your cheek flips Bucky off, and then he’s the one laughing. 

“Sorry, doll.” Though he really isn’t. He’s bored as hell and knows you are, too. But he signed up for this to make amends, help the police and all the other agencies with letters, and some without, to bring down the bad guys.

That’s how he’d met you, an undercover agent for the FBI. He felt like he’d lucked out when they’d introduced you as his handler. He didn’t like that word, and the grimace on his face must have said as such because you’d piped up - “We’re partners, Mr. Barnes. We have each other’s back. No one’s handling anyone,” you stated, looking directly at your boss. But as soon as you’d turned back to Bucky and winked, “The handling comes after hours,” he knew he was in for a wild time. 

This Oliver guy is wanted in connection with a series of missing escorts. Back in Bucky’s day, no one cared about a missing prostitute, but times have changed, and the price has certainly increased. An intimate encounter with one of the ladies from “The Girlfriend Experience” - a very exclusive and high-end escort service - is upward of three thousand dollars for a few hours. 

“So, roughly a thousand dollars a minute,” you’d shrugged, smirking cheekily.

“I’d get way more than my money’s worth,” he countered, tongue slipping out to lick at the flirty smile he gave you in return.

You’d sauntered closer, pressed your body into his, and whispered, “Oh, I’d let you take a turn for free.”

So here you are, on a date with Oliver, earning his trust and waiting for him to either A-say something incriminating (which was likely given his affinity for talking about himself) or B-offer you money for sex (a criminal offense). 

But damn, this man is a drip. Watching paint dry would have been more entertaining, and Bucky felt deeply sorry for you having to fake a smile and flirt with such a wet blanket of a person.

“Go to the bathroom,” Bucky says. 

You subtly shake your head, eyes never leaving Oliver’s, hanging on his every word. 

“Just want to remind you, all of this is being recorded,” he grins, sees your eyes flick to his in the mirror, and lifts his brow, silently making his request again.

You look back to Oliver, lean in closer, place your hand atop his on the bar, and gently stroke your fingers along his skin. Bucky can feel the burn on his own skin, the scrape of your nails as your fingers trail higher with every delicate caress. Oliver grins widely. He thinks he’s got you, hook, line and sinker. 

But Bucky knows better. “Hey Doll,” he says cheerily, “remember our first date?” 

You give him nothing. 

“I took you for a picnic on the beach. I wore that blue suit you like, and you wore the lilac dress that hugs you everywhere. I was worried you’d get cold, but I shouldn’t have. By dessert, we were as naked as the wildflowers dancing to the sunset…”

You abruptly hop off the bar stool, “Excuse me, Oliver. Need to use the ladies’ room.”

Bucky knows better than to be smug about getting his own way; he’ll pay for it later in some form or another, but he looks forward to his punishment. 

“Pausing comms,” Bucky says, “bathroom break,” for when the brass listens later even though it's obvious what’s going on, but he doesn’t care as he taps the device in his pocket. 

He counts forty-five seconds after you pass through the door toward the bathrooms and then follows after you. All three stall doors are closed, but only one of the dials shows occupied. Before he can lift his hand to knock, the door opens, and you yank him inside.

“You’re pushing your luck, Barnes,” you warn. 

He surrenders, arms up, palms out. “It was the only way I could get you in here.” 

“For what?” 

“This.” His fingers pinching your chin are soft, but the kiss he delivers is anything but. He’s famished, as if he hasn’t tasted you in weeks when, in reality, it’s only been a few hours. But that’s how you make him feel. With every beat of his heart, he’s wild and aching and destitute until he has you in his grasp.

The Appletini is still heavy on your tongue, and he washes it away with hungry sweeps of his whiskey-laced one. His hands slip down your leg to the hem of your skirt, hiking it up with every squeeze and grope of your soft thigh.

Your hands roam under his shirt, nails digging into his stomach, before slipping down to the waistband of his jeans.

He holds back a groan when he reaches your inner thigh and finds no more material between his hand and your heated core. 

You pull back, a wicked grin revealing your teeth, and as he opens his mouth to tell you that you’ll be the death of him, you stuff your panties into his mouth.

You step back, readjusting your dress, “You can get me as naked as those wildflowers again later.” You wink. “Right now, we have a job to do.”

With that, you breeze out of the door and back to your date. 

He waits sixty seconds after you leave, stuffing your panties into his jacket pocket and giving his cock a chance to realize his punishment came earlier than expected before he follows after you.

He settles back into his barstool, catches your eye in the mirror, and the feeling tingles from the very tips of his toes to the top of his head, serenity, calm, absolute, unwavering belief. He mutters, “I love you,” into the coms.

Oliver ends up wearing your Appletini.

Master Lists: Made Up Fic Titles // Bucky Barnes // All The Fandoms

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[amandaoftherosemire]

Genghis Khan -- Part One

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU/MCU AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X fem!Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, OMC Neil

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,703

Format: Two-Part One-Shot

Warnings: Smut (next part), 18+ only, angst, jealousy, violent impulses, mutual pining

Summary: You and Bucky are neighbors and friends-with-benefits. Neither of you like the arrangement, but neither of you are willing to risk ruining it to ask for more. One night, you both get pushed to your limits.

A/N: This fic was inspired by the song “Genghis Khan” by Miike Snow. Once it was in my head, it wouldn’t stop clamoring until I let it out. I was busy; I’m trying to finish other fics that have sat for far too long, but here I am, still thirsting for Bucky like a slut. I don’t know what I’m doing any more. What a lie. Like I ever knew what I was doing. I split it into two parts when it got over 10,000 words, but it just needs a final pass before I’ll be ready to put the next part up, too, so I’ll have the second part up very shortly. I hope y’all enjoy! 😊

Genghis Khan Part One

 Bucky was pacing again.

With a growl of frustration, he escaped the closing walls of his apartment by taking to the streets, walking the sidewalks of his youth. When he'd moved back to New York, he'd expected to be overwhelmed by too many people, too much movement, but he'd found the familiar press and rush of the city a comfort. Back home in Brooklyn, he’d found a part of himself that could find solace within the traces of the streets he'd run as a boy and another part that found relief that those reminders were few and far between after nearly a century's worth of change.

Whenever he was no longer content to keep to himself, when his apartment started to feel stifling, like he was trapped, he'd walk for blocks and blocks, breathing the air, basking in freedom. Just because he wasn't quite sure what to do with his freedom half the time was neither here nor there. He had choices now. There was nothing more precious.

Still, he'd forgotten the double-edged nature of choosing for oneself. That he had been the one to make his own choices was cold comfort when he still felt the need to escape them. He didn’t want to be home, his need to flee moving him to walk the streets in a frustrated attempt to wear himself out. He knew he couldn't be there when you got back, and he needed to be exhausted before he walked past your door.

His neighbor, his friend, his greatest desire, he'd watched you leave tonight with the same man as last time, and the time before. This was the first time you'd left with the same person more than once. Bucky couldn’t explain why, but it felt momentous that you’d gone on a third date.

Bucky couldn’t decide if he was happy for you that you'd found someone else after he'd fucked it up or if he was infuriated that he’d been so easily replaced. Torn between relief and fury, he fumed as he walked, the battle blinding him to the streets that passed. The relief was cold and empty, the only comfort that the choice would be taken from him and with it the temptation, but the fury was hot and dangerous, ready to bubble over at merely the thought that someone else would share your bed, would touch what his heart insisted was his.

Bucky had no right to be jealous, and he damn well knew it, but that didn't stop the green bile from rising into his throat at the thought of anyone else discovering the taste of your skin, dewed with the sweat of desire, or how it felt to sink into your silken wet clasp. His own choices, his own careful silence had come between you, and he had no right to want to make the other man disappear before he was given the opportunity to find the exact frequency at which you moaned in pleasure.

Bucky didn’t have a problem with this particular person, really. He didn’t know anything about him, had carefully not asked for even a scrap of information. His low-grade urge to find him and smother him with a pillow was nothing personal; there was no way it could be. He simply couldn't help but have a problem with the very concept of anyone but himself sharing your bed.

He'd started to fall for you about a week after he'd moved in. He'd leaned out to grab his paper, the printed word an anachronism he still preferred, at the same time you'd opened your own door. Bleary-eyed and only half-conscious, you'd scooped up your own newspaper as you'd grunted, "Morning," in his general direction, waved the paper, and turned away, cursing absently when you scraped your shoulder against your door frame. Something about the mix of irritable, polite, and confused of a morning made his heart soft, despite his determination to not get close to anyone.

Over the next several months, however, you'd somehow become his friend. Neither of you seemed to seek it out, but you were always friendly without being pushy whenever you ran into one another, and the two of you often fell into casual conversation. One evening, you'd knocked on his door with a wry smile and a plate full of food when you'd made enough for a guest that had cancelled at the last minute.

After licking the plate clean, starved for the taste of homemade, he had washed it properly, returning it with a note offering both his phone number and his stomach for any extra food you wanted to get rid of. Before either of you were expecting it, the two of you were sharing dinner at least once a week. He began spending many of his nights on your couch watching tv and movies, trying to catch up with the world he’d missed while first frozen inside the Soldat, and then again during the Blip. Once you knew his full identity, something you figured out early and ignored almost entirely, you did your best to answer any questions he had about what he'd missed.

Your blasé attitude towards his past confused and delighted him, and he never quite knew what to make of it. Did you truly not care about his past? Did you have an opinion at all? If you did, how did he still never feel judged when he was with you? Something about you let him set down the person he'd been in those lost years, not to forget, but to rest for a moment. When you looked at him, he didn’t feel damned by his multitude of sins. He didn't know what it meant, but he couldn't stay away either.

Bucky had spent countless evenings on your couch before the night you'd ended up in his lap. He couldn’t remember if he'd pulled you on to him or if you’d climbed aboard, but once you were there, he couldn't resist filling himself with everything that tempted him, had been tempting him for months. You were like flame in his arms, warming him to his bones, and the sensation of your skin against his was too much to deny.

He'd left in the gray light of the pre-dawn, forcing himself from the softness of your bed, your arms, but he'd been afraid of how right it had felt to lose himself in you. It would have been terrifyingly easy to stay, to let himself pretend he had no past haunting his present, shaping his future.

Only a few hours later, he'd opened his door to your knock with dread a rock in his stomach, convinced he'd lost his friend because he couldn't keep his hands to himself. You'd stood there, a sardonic smile on your face and the boots you'd brought back to him at your feet. A brusque, "Don't make it weird," was all you’d said as you walked away.

That had led to Bucky asking Sam for help in deciphering what had happened, a thing he hated to do, but he didn't know where else to turn. Sam had made him pay for the requested information in his usual good-natured mockery, but at the end of the conversation Bucky understood that he'd set the boundaries by leaving the way he did. To his surprise, you'd accepted his unspoken limits without comment.

Part of him blessed you for it, grateful that you wouldn't force him to explain how little the likes of him deserved what astonishing kindness you'd already shown him. Another part of him cursed the fact that you'd never confronted him, never told him what you wanted, never forced him to confront himself.

Because he hadn't stopped spending time with you, had he? He hadn't stopped touching you in any way you'd allow, hadn't stopped warming himself at your fire. He kept sharing your meals, occupying your time, monopolizing your attention. The guilt he felt for not offering you what you deserved in return couldn't overwhelm his need to see you, be near you, feel the electric charge of your presence crackling over his skin.

You, however, treated him with the warmth of a friend you occasionally nailed, leaving Bucky at a loss. Bucky couldn't tell if you even wanted more from him; you seemed so at ease with the situation. Sam didn't think the arrangement unusual, even insisting it had its own initialism, FWB, but Bucky often didn't understand what Sam took for granted.

The first time he'd heard you at your door with a date, he'd had to exert all his self-control to not physically assault the man kissing you goodnight. Only the night before, your regular Friday night movie night had ended, as it most often did, with him easing quietly from your bed. This time he'd heard you sigh, sad and forlorn, and he'd paused, but he had not turned back. He would not speak of his feelings for you, his own self-loathing holding his tongue.

He was lucky you'd allowed him to touch you at all; he would not taint you any more than he already had, nor would he risk your rejection. That didn't mean he had any control over the jealous rage that filled his head at the thought that he might lose you, that another might take his place in your bed, in your life. Knowing you'd been out with someone else had driven him mad, and only superhuman control had allowed him to walk away before he found out if you'd invited your date inside.

Such things were none of his business. He'd made sure of that.

That had been a couple months ago. You'd continued to date others, but still you kept coming back to him, still allowed him into your bed. You'd remained his friend throughout, never speaking of the dual nature of your relationship. The friend never acknowledged the lover, the sexual heat between you something separate, held away from everything else. He didn't know what you thought of it, because you never spoke of it. But he never spoke, either, because he lived in terror that to do so would be to invite catastrophe, that he'd lose everything he so highly prized.

Tonight, he had once again escaped his apartment to escape what he'd continued to tell himself he couldn't have. He was walking the streets, no particular destination in mind, his thoughts on the way laughter looked in your deep, warm eyes and on your soft luscious mouth, when he rounded a corner and was smacked in the face with the sight of you.

You and your date were dining al fresco, the warmth of the summer evening making you glow, pretty and passionate in the fading light of the setting sun. You were dressed in more warmth, a deep, rose red that made you look like heat personified. The dress hugged your curves while remaining modest enough to tease the imagination with what couldn’t be seen. Like a moth to your flame, Bucky had yet to figure out how to resist your pull. He had yet to figure out why he wanted to.

Stopping in his tracks, he barely noticed the few blows of people bumping into him before the flow of foot traffic around him adjusted to his sudden halt. His heart kicked into an immediate gallop at the sight of your face, animated with the story on your lips as you gestured with your fork. He hadn't touched you in weeks, since before your first date with the man who sat, enchanted, across from you. The lack hit him suddenly, like a punch to the gut, along with the thought that he may never get to touch you again, all because of his own cowardice.

Unable to watch you bewitch another the same way you'd enthralled him, Bucky turned away, pushing through people in his desperation to get away, his heart heavy and his vision red with fury. If he let himself give in to his baser instincts, he'd be striding through the crowd to pick you up and carry you off like the caveman he felt. Instead, he walked aimlessly for hours, trying to do everything he could to make sure he'd have neither the energy nor the inclination to knock on your door on his way home.

He had no right to interrupt your evening just because jealousy was like an acid burning in his brain. If you were alone, he wanted to change that, impress into your skin that you needed no touch but his. If you weren't alone, he wanted to change that, throw the other man from your bed with every shred of brutality that still burned at his core. That he had no right changed nothing. His muscles were still tensed for a fight, the catharsis of violence calling to him despite his determination to be better than his past, to behave like a civilized human being.

That determination was sorely tested when he heard your voice as he came up the stairs to his apartment floor. He never took the elevator, didn't trust closed places with minimal escape. On top of that, he'd rather make the climb than give any possible ambush advance warning of his arrival. Old habits died hard, and he couldn't, wouldn’t stop watching his back simply because he wasn't on the run anymore.

Those warm and sultry tones that had so easily seduced him dozens of times over echoed into his ultra-sensitive ears, sending shudders over his skin and making his vibranium hand clench at his side. He stopped on the stairs, seven or so feet from the stairwell door, open just a crack, but enough to let your voice through. He was determined to give you as much privacy as he could, no matter that he wanted to ease close enough to make out the words being said.

Before he could blink, his body overrode his integrity and he was already in motion, easing silently up the stairs to close the distance, to eavesdrop on you and your date. He wasn't proud of himself, but he couldn't help himself, either, not when he felt like his entire future hung in the balance.

His heart slowed as his breathing fell into a silent, even rhythm. He moved forward until he was just outside the line of sight for the floor he shared with you. Your door was more than a few steps away from the cracked stairwell door, so Bucky moved until he was behind the door and stuck his ear to the gap to listen to you and your date. He didn't know what, if anything, he would do with the information he was trying to get, but he needed it, nonetheless.

"Hmm," your voice was warm with the soft edge of sensuality, quiet enough that only Bucky's enhanced hearing allowed it to crawl into his ears like spiders, all legs and fangs. "Very nice."

"Nice enough to get me inside?" The man's voice was muffled, and Bucky could hear a shuffling of fabric that told him the likely picture that awaited him on the other side of the door. His muscles locked down in response to the rage that washed through him. He would not give in to the violence that had shaped him, no matter the provocation.

He had no right. He had no right. He had no right.

The mantra kept him calm until he heard a little more shuffling, then a surprising quiet. "I don't think so." Your voice broke the silence with a wry regret that was both firm and yet gentle. You were turning your date down, but you were being careful with him. The hand around Bucky's throat eased as his most immediate fears were relieved.

"Tonight?" Your date asked the question kindly. "Or at all?"

A long pause had Bucky confused, wondering what kind of nonverbal communication he was missing. When you finally answered, you sounded like you were covering your face with your hands.

"Oh god," you answered, your voice strangled. "I'm so sorry. It's really obvious, isn't it?” 

"You very carefully talk around someone," Bucky's rival sounded disappointed, but resigned. He couldn't know that he was putting possibilities in Bucky's brain, making him wonder if he could make things right with you.

Would he, if he could? Would he speak of his feelings if given another chance? Could he find the courage to do so?

In the next moment, you sounded so lost and hurt that Bucky was once again having to exert the same intense amount of self-control to remain still. But this time, it was to stop himself from leaping through the door to take you in his arms and protect you from whatever had made you sad. "I'm hung up." Your voice was thick, and the thought that you might have tears in your eyes made him feel physically ill. "I don't know when I won't be."

"Hey, don't worry about it. Sometimes the timing's off." The man's voice was kind and almost made Bucky feel bad for him. The triumphant crow sounding inside his mind at the thought that you would not sleep with the other man tonight was much louder, however. "Call me when you get off the hook?"

Your soft laugh and warm retort, "You'll be the first," cut off that crow of triumph, giving room for the possessive voice in the back of Bucky's mind to snarl viciously with the same jealousy that had been driving his steps since he'd watched you leave with the other man the second time.

Bucky had realized then that he could bear anything but losing you. Your presence in his life had become necessary to him; he could not stand by and let you walk out of it. He stepped back from the crack in the door when he heard you exchanging your goodbyes with your date. The two of you couldn’t help but be a little awkward, as it was clear that there wouldn't be another date any time soon. Leaning against the concrete wall behind the door, he waited for you to go into your apartment and for the man to leave the building.

Bucky listened to your apartment door open and close as footsteps made their way toward the elevator, but with only half an ear as his mind was mostly on the conversation he'd overheard. He knew he'd spend the next several hours lying on his floor, trying to test the exact weight of the words 'hung up' and wondering whether they were in reference to him. If they were, what, precisely, did they mean?

He heard the elevator doors open and close and pushed away from the wall, determined to get into his apartment as quickly as possible so that he could start parsing the meaning of both your and your date's words in private. Despite himself, he slowed as he neared your door.

To his own shock, he soon found himself facing your door, raising his hand to knock.

On the other side of the door, you slumped in defeat against the wall for a moment before kicking off your heels. You hated that you'd had to do that, but it had only been fair. You'd humiliated yourself because of Bucky Barnes yet again, and you thought you might be at your limit.

To be honest, you'd thought that a number of times at this point, but you couldn't save yourself from the allure he held for you. A hidden sun obscured by shadows, your body craved the dark while your heart craved the light. A beautiful juxtaposition embodied in one insanely sexy man, every part of you was attracted to every part of him, both good and bad, light and dark, peace and violence.

Sometimes he would sit laughing on your couch, his face shining and beautiful in unguarded enjoyment, and the sight would stop your throat with emotion. His happiness was too glorious to risk never seeing again, too precious to risk never inspiring again. A wonderful, charming companion, his warm smiles and dry humor had made him the best friend you'd ever had. Keeping your friend quickly became your highest priority. You'd fallen so deeply in love with Bucky, you'd done whatever you had to do to stay close. 

And when his jaw clenched, the muscle moving in his cheek, the final sign that he'd given in to desire, your body wouldn't say no. Despite every tear you'd shed each time he'd left your bed before he had to look at you in the cold light of day, you couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. The fire in his eyes called to you, no matter how you tried to resist, no matter the damage to your heart. His touch made you weak in ways you'd never known, ways you both loved and hated, but you couldn't walk away of your own volition. 

Which was why you'd gone out with Neil three times when you'd known after the first date that it was hopeless, that you couldn't be with anyone as long as you were still in love with Bucky. You'd fooled yourself for a while that you just needed time and space, that a couple of dates with someone good and sweet would be enough to help you get over this obsessive need.

Tonight, you'd admitted to yourself that you'd been wrong, that you were stringing Neil along for your own needs. You'd been using him to shield yourself from the temptation just down the hall. You'd had to be honest with both yourself and him that you weren't really available, not as long as this thing with Bucky remained unspoken and unresolved. 

When the knock came at your door, you pasted a smile on your face as you turned back around, hoping Neil wasn't going to make it weird.

When you pulled the door open, his head lifted and, even in the dim light of the hallway, Bucky's eyes seemed to burn into yours. He was wearing his usual uniform of black t-shirt and jeans over boots, only the missing leather jacket a concession to the heat of the day. You would swear that his hair was mussed from his own hands dragging through it in frustration; he looked frazzled, something you’d never seen.

"What does 'hung up' mean?" Bucky asked the question in low tones, the rumble of his voice both gentle and dangerous. Goosebumps erupted over your skin as his eyes raked over you with banked heat and you realized he'd overheard your conversation with Neil as you'd sent him away. A cold chill of hot rage swept through you and the words were tumbling from your lips before you had a chance to think them through.

"It means I sent a good guy away because I can't stop thinking about you."

Bucky's left hand clenched into a fist at his side as his entire body clenched in desire. Your eyes flashed to his even as one eyebrow quirked slightly. He deliberately opened his hand, stretching his fingers. "May I come in?" His voice was a rumble even deeper than his first question.

Your core had clenched when his hand had, something about that show of held back passion always made you crazy. You knew that if he came in, you were going to end up in bed, sooner more likely than later.

"Yes," left you in a breath, consequences be damned. You craved him, your body screaming out for the feel of his. To your body's purring delight, assent was barely past your lips before Bucky was pushing upright in a ripple of strength and he was striding forward to take you in his arms. Your body flashed hot as firm muscle and cool vibranium banded around you, lifting you up and carrying you into your apartment as he kicked the door shut behind him.

His lips found yours and you were sinking in with a sigh of relief. You hadn't touched him in weeks, hadn't been wrapped in the feel, the scent of him. The return to his arms felt like coming home, and you knew why you’d tried to escape, understood why you couldn’t.

“So it’s not just me,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands skimming over your sides down to your legs. With seemingly no effort, Bucky’s hands gripped your thighs and lifted. You bounced a little on your calves to help and before you could blink, your legs were wrapped around his waist, his hands were on your ass, and the rest of him was pressing you into the wall at your back as his mouth took yours again.

You kissed him back with all the pent-up emotion inside you. You wanted him until it hurt, but feeding the need also brought pain. You ran your hands frantically over the muscles of his back and arms, your fingertips grazing the back of his neck and making him shiver in your arms, a sensation that always made you feel outrageously powerful. Your hands dived into his hair to drag his head back so that you could fix your mouth on his throat.

So engrossed with the salt of his skin as you scraped your teeth over that perfect jaw, you didn’t understand at first the words tumbling from his mouth in a growling rush of passion. “I don’t want you going out with other people. I don’t want anyone’s hands on you but mine.” The words sent a shudder through you and your hands tightened in his hair as his hands began to skim over your thighs, kneading the muscles and rocking you gently against one another. “I want to hunt down and destroy everyone who knows how soft your lips are,” you knew it was wrong, but the sound of his jealousy made your heart skip and clutch, “because I’m fucked up and violent and you should stay away from me.” Except you were fucked up too because you knew exactly how he felt. “I know I shouldn’t drag you into my fucked up life, but I can’t stop.”

You scoffed and lifted your head to look into his face. Your eyes blazed with the mix of feeling he inspired in you, exasperation, adoration, fury, despair. "I know, Bucky." Your voice was desolate with the pain he'd caused every time he'd walked away and for a moment, you dropped the casual façade and let him see how much you felt for him.

Bucky looked startled for a moment, like he hadn't anticipated the depth of feeling he had uncovered. He'd shown up when you were weak, when you had no defenses, and then had the temerity to look surprised when you were so easily conquered. You wanted to bite him, it made you so mad.

You opened your mouth, whether to bite him literally or just with your words you didn't know, but the surprise on his face melted into one of burning emotion that found its match in you. However infuriating and confusing you found him, he had apparently been feeling the same. His mouth slanted across yours once again and you could taste the complex mix of emotion in his kiss.

You kissed him back, your hands still in his hair holding his mouth to yours with a fervor born of desperation. You wanted to hold back all of this feeling, afraid to show him your heart when you had so little understanding of his, but you were caught on the wave. He seemed equally unable to hold back, and you finally felt like he'd let you see beneath his scowling veneer. He was holding you like you mattered, and you couldn’t pretend he didn't.

Abruptly, Bucky tore his mouth from yours as he pulled away from the wall to carry you the couple of steps down the brief hallway to your bedroom. “I’m taking you to bed," he growled, as though daring you to stop him, though you would swear you saw fear glimmering in his eyes that you would do exactly that.

“Damn right you are.”

Part Two here>>

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[sgt-seabass]

𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔

✧˚ · . a collaboration between @navybrat817 and sgt-seabass

Is this the way it's got to be? Ignite the fire inside of me. Embrace the life of tragedy. A tide of war and broken dreams. (x)

pairing — bucky barnes x reader w/c — 6.3k this is a dark fic. 18+ only. listening to —♫3 am walk

warnings — bucky barnes is a sweetheart, implied (consensual) smut, kidnapping, assault, violence against reader, mention of bodily injury, stabbing, knives, blood, bad guys being cunts, hydra exists, degradation, threat of non-con, whump, threat of violence against an animal (but the animal is not touched or harmed), death threats a/n — after months of brainstorming and writing together with Navy, this has finally been born. this piece is part of a larger AU we made together, so watch this space for more in the future.

Waking up next to Bucky was the easiest thing you ever did, because that was your happiest dream come true.

Even when his alarm blared before the sun had even considered rising, in the early hours when birds were still in their slumber, and the moon lit the bedroom with its ethereal glow, you would still give everything to wake up to the sleepy smile of your boyfriend.

You went to bed thinking of him as he ran his fingers down your back, helping ease you into a restful sleep, and you woke thinking of him as he tried to cover your eyes from his lit-up phone.

You both groaned, begging the stars for more time in bed. But as the incessant beeping filled the room, neither of you would get back to sleep soon.

Bucky was an Avenger. And that meant he had to go save the world. But that didn’t make it any easier when he had to leave for missions.

As Bucky leaned over to turn his phone off, you wrapped your arms around him, spooning him with your chin on his shoulder. “You could just stay home.”

Something in your gut was calling to you, warning you that he needed to stay home. It made you fearful. What if he got hurt?

In hindsight, it was you who needed the protection.

Bucky sighed, turning off the annoying buzzing of his phone. “You know I want to. But I can’t. Duty calls, sweetheart.”

God, you’d never get sick of the gravelly twinge to his voice in the mornings.

“Steve and Sam need backup,” he yawned, rolling over so he could cradle your head to his firm chest as he lay on his back, allowing you to smell the fading scent of his cologne.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine on their own,” you smiled, placing a kiss on his pec. Bucky’s habit of sleeping in only boxers always had you wanting to kiss him all over. Covering him in your affections was always tempting, even when he got shy, especially around his scarred shoulder.

“Baby, stop it,” Bucky almost whined, like a toddler tempted with treats. “Please don’t make this harder for me.”

“Sorry,” you placated, that nauseous feeling in the pit of your stomach not easing as your eyes adjusted to the dark room.

Outside, you could hear the occasional car and pedestrian. But for the most part, Brooklyn was asleep. It was a peaceful silence between you, enjoying each other’s touch while it began drizzling rain outside.

“Well, it’s raining. Now you’ll just have to stay home.” You cheekily nipped at Bucky’s side before shuffling up to kiss his stubbled cheek.

“Is that so?” Bucky chuckled, eyes crinkling in your favourite show of joy.

“Mhm. No missions on rainy days,” you said matter-of-factly with a serious look on your face, a look you couldn’t hold when Bucky tickled your sides. You burst into giggles, gasping softly when Bucky rolled you under him so he towered over you, your body caged between his bulky arms.

“That’s too bad. I thought you were going to have a fun day with Natalia.” Bucky’s hair fell forward and covered some of his face. But there was no missing his twinkling blue eyes, reflecting the lights outside in his orbs. “Weren’t you going to have a girls movie night?”

“Yes, but I’d rather you join us.” Your hands ran up his sides, feeling rippled muscle until you reached his neck and jaw. His stubble pricked at your fingers as you cupped his face.

“I don’t want to be the third wheel. What are you ‘gonna watch?” As he spoke, Bucky began placing gentle kisses on your cheek that trailed down your collarbone.

“Cruel Intentions,” you muttered, revelling in the feeling of his plush lips against your skin.

“You’ve shown me that one,” Bucky murmured against your neck. “That’s the one with the lesbian kissing scene, right?”

You rolled your eyes with mock offence. “Of course that’s the bit you remember. And it’s not just any kissing scene. It’s the legendary kiss between Sarah Michelle Gellar and Selma Blair.”

Bucky pulled himself back up, raising his brows and trying, and failing, to hide his smirk. “Sorry, how could I forget.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Let me see if I remember correctly. It goes like this, right?”

Your heart was ready to burst out of your chest when Bucky’s lips met yours. Morning breath be damned; there was simply nothing better than kissing Bucky Barnes.

He licked across your bottom lip before you opened your mouth to let him in. “Bucky…” You moaned, your tongues sliding together like a choreographed ballroom dance.

Your hands held his scruffy jaw while his hands, one cold and one warm, held your waist. You could always tell when he was getting aroused by the way he’d lose some motor control of his silver arm, the hand twitching and metal plates shifting.

In hindsight, you’d miss the way he’d hold you the most.

Bucky slowly pulled away, his metal hand rising so his thumb could brush over your spittle-smeared lips. “Something like that, right?”

“Yeah.” You breathed out before taking the digit into your mouth.

Even though he couldn’t feel it, you could see how Bucky’s pupils dilated as he watched you suck.

His metal arm had been used for so much evil. But you always wanted to remind him of who he was. Your lover, your best friend. Your everything. Just like you were to him.

You weren’t afraid, and you embraced every part of him. While many cowered away from the man with the metal arm, you gravitated towards him, as if your heart was connected to him with impenetrable strings of fate.

“God, I love you.” Bucky’s metal hand cupped your cheek, his breath hitching for a moment as he gazed at you, as if so full of emotion his words were caught in his throat.

You placed your palm over his hand, snuggling into the cold metal like it was a warm hug. “I love you too, Bucky baby.”

An embarrassed flush spread over Bucky’s cheeks as it always did when you spoke to him sweetly. He might have been a soldier, but he was still a soft romantic at heart.

With the pitter-patter of rain against the window, the room no more than illuminated shadows, you were entirely enraptured by Bucky. You both stayed silent, just soaking in the moment as sparks flew. Even though you’d been together for two years, the chemistry was still like the first day you met. The first time you kissed. The first day you fucked.

The world around you was dark, yet you weren’t scared because Bucky was there.

The languid movement of Bucky’s lips to yours was tender, a familiar movement that he’d done so many times before. Feathery light, yet full of heat, he brushed his lips over yours. “I wish you could come with me.”

“I could stay in the jet.” You offered with sincerity. But that part of Bucky’s world wasn’t for you, you both knew that. You were no agent, a mere civilian with a super soldier boyfriend. But something told you that’s what drew Bucky to you, your normalcy. You gave him a chance at a life that had been stolen from him for so many years.

“I wouldn’t forgive myself if you got hurt. You’re safer here.”

In hindsight, he was very wrong.

Bucky captured your lips again, caressing and lingering in a way that had your heart fluttering and cheeks burning.

You tangled your hands into his locks, deepening the kiss. If he was going, you needed every moment you could get.

Bucky gripped your chin with his flesh hand, opening your mouth for him.

The sweetness turned sultry, and before long, Bucky was grinding himself against your pyjama-covered core.

Words couldn’t describe the desire that was awash in the room. Two lovers revelling in a happiness that was so rare, as if a million I love you’s were condensed into a single moment. No poet could describe this connection or the way it made you feel.

With Bucky’s embrace, you were home.

Bucky slowly trailed kisses down your neck, chest and stomach until he reached your pulsing pussy.

“I better tire you out before I go.” He smirked, cheeky as ever.

And tire you out, he did.

It wasn’t about his pleasure in that moment. He solely focused on you.

The way he moved his tongue, the way he pulled you apart, it was damn near artistic.

Steve may have been a painter, but Bucky was an artist in the act of love.

In hindsight, you should have cherished this moment more. Because it was the last happiness you would feel for some time.

The unease in your stomach began to grow in intensity as time passed, and by the time Bucky pulled himself away to get ready and leave, there were unexplainable chills wracking through you.

Bucky had done a thousand missions in your time together and had come home safe each time. Steve knew you’d likely kill him if something happened to Bucky. So why was this time different?

It was like your soul was trying to reach out and tell you something. But it must have been speaking another language, because you didn’t understand what was wrong.

You made the most of your fleeting time with Bucky before he left. He changed into his workout gear so he could kit up at the compound where most of the Avengers still resided, and Bucky had once lived. He didn’t leave many weapons in the home; you preferred it that way. The only one you knew of was the knife hidden under the couch, but you were sure there were other blades around.

Bucky had never told you why he didn’t live at the compound anymore, but Nat had hinted at tension between Bucky and Tony. You’d found it odd, given that Tony had been friendly to you each time you’d visited the compound.

But it wasn’t your business and didn’t matter to you anyway. You were content living with Bucky in your cosy apartment. There was more than enough space for both you and your fur child Alpine, plus a second bedroom for when Steve stayed over.

You snuggled into the duvet when Bucky left to make you a cup of tea before he headed off, and seeing as there was now a free spot, Alpine entered from the main area and took her chance to cosy up next to you. You pet the long-haired white cat as you waited, listening to her soft purrs to help ground you.

And when Bucky returned, you felt rather teary, your vision blurring as your emotions almost got the better of you. “Stay safe, please.”

Bucky set your earl grey down on the coaster on your bedside table before his concerned gaze turned to you. “I’ll be just fine. I’ll have my phone on me the whole time.”

“Is the mission dangerous?” You couldn’t help but ask. But you always got the same answer.

“I can’t talk about it, baby. But I’ll be okay. I promise,” Bucky reassured you with a kiss on your forehead. “You and Alpine better hold down the fort for me, okay?”

“Yeah. We’re going to get up to lots of mischief,” you smiled the best you could, holding Bucky’s hand.

“That’s my girls.” Bucky gave Alpine a little scratch under her chin before doing the same to you. “I’ll be back before you know it. Now get some more sleep, soldier’s orders.”

“Yes, sergeant,” you mock saluted before Bucky kissed you and pulled away.

“I love you, doll,” Bucky called from the doorway, as if taking his chance to imprint the sight of you into his mind.

In hindsight, he should have looked a lot longer.

“I love you too,” you gave Bucky a little wave. Alpine meowed in her own show of affection.

And like that, he was gone; The final sound from him was the closing of the front door behind him.

You turned the television on for some white noise while you sipped at your tea before you did as you were told, allowing the talking of some trash reality show to become background noise as you fell back asleep. As you dozed off, you couldn’t help but notice one side of the bed a lot colder than when you first had awoken.

For the second time that day, you woke up. This time, the sunlight beamed through the open curtains, since Bucky loved being woken by the sun warming his skin. He hated being cold.

Next to you lay a napping Alpine, her fluffy body rising and falling slowly with each deep breath. You placed a hand on her side, smiling at the little yip that came from her in surprise. She rolled onto her back, deep blue eyes watching you as you gaily scritched her belly.

She took the chance to latch onto your hand, playfully holding onto your wrist while her feet kicked and teeth ran across your skin.

“Hey, silly goose. Let me go.” Your chastisement was light and playful. While you’d prefer waking up next to Bucky, Alpine was a good replacement on the lonely days. She was your family, just like Bucky.

When Alpine rolled back over with a tired huff, you decided to leave her to slumber. As much as you wanted to annoy her more, you didn’t want to push your luck and end up with a pissed off kitty. She was moody, just like her dad.

You slinked out of bed, taking a moment to stretch when your feet hit the cold floorboards. With a yawn, you looked around the room. You should really get a rug, but Bucky liked lying on the floors when he found the bed too soft. On those nights, you’d join him, even if it left your back stiff and sore.

Padded steps took you to the kitchen, your body on autopilot as you got Alpine’s food ready for when she got up. It was the same routine as every morning. Feed the cat, shower, and check your emails for new commissions.

In hindsight, you should have been paying more attention.

You hummed as you made your way to the bathroom, connecting your phone to the Bluetooth speakers so you could play some music while you tried to relax. Your mind would run without the interruption of songs. And you didn’t want to start thinking about work before you’d had a chance to breathe.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have put the music so loud.

It was a luxury working from home, getting to pick your own hours. You had felt a little guilty when Bucky first proposed the idea of you quitting your crappy retail job to follow your dream of graphic design, as he could bare the brunt of the expenses.

But now you were flourishing; you were just grateful for his support. There were peaks and troughs like any job, but your heart was content sitting in your shared apartment, designing things that made the world a brighter place.

You turned the shower on, bopping along to your music as you shed yourself of your pyjamas and got into the tiled shower. You could have a bath, but you preferred to save those moments for when Bucky could join you.

The hot water made you hiss at first before your body acclimatised, skin heating up as the stream washed over you.

You faced the wall, resting your head on the tile as the spray rushed down your back.

In hindsight, you should have turned around.

The consequence of your various decisions throughout the morning came to a startling precipice.

With no idea of your surroundings, you were surprised when someone looped their arms under your armpits and over your shoulders, hauling you backwards.

You didn’t even scream for a moment, your brain unable to catch up before the adrenaline kicked in full force.

The assailant didn’t speak, which almost made it worse, as he started to walk backwards with your back to his chest, arms locked over your front. More than ever, you really wished you’d taken Bucky up on those self-defence classes.

“Thanks, Buck. But I’ll never use them.”

“I just want to keep you safe.”

“I am safe. My boyfriend is an Avenger, remember?”

Fight or flight kicked in, and your screaming started. You kicked your feet up and planted your soles on the cold tiled wall. With all your strength, you pushed back like a springboard, sending you and your attacker hurtling backwards.

He let go as he fell, and while he fell through one glass pane of the shower, you fell through another. The force had the glass shattering, sending thousands of shards all over the room.

You scrunched your eyes closed, wailing when you stepped in the broken glass, pain shooting through you when the shards buried themselves into the soles of your feet. But a second attacker caught you before your body hit the sharp ground. The piercing pain in your feet barely registered with how your body buzzed. Blood began to cover the floor, your essence coating the tiles a sickly red.

Your eyes shot open to see who caught you. A dirty blonde with a youthful grin. The man who had grabbed you first, another blonde with bright blue eyes and a scowl, had caught himself against the double sink.

Time froze for a moment when you looked at the door. There was another man with dark brown hair and an ominous expression, his features dark like his intent. Three men. You had no idea if more waited outside the door, but anything would be better than being stuck in this room.

“Nice catch, Damien,” the dark-haired man grinned.

“Yeah, no problem, Mads,” the man holding you spoke, chuckling like he wasn’t holding a hostage in his grip. “Not like Kage was any help.”

With them distracted, you bolted for the bathroom door, ignoring the way your feet tore with each step.

“Maddox! Grab her!” The man against the counter, Kage, yelled. Pushing himself off the marble to follow you.

You managed to duck under Maddox’s arms and stumbled into the kitchen. Your blood was already pooling on the ground with each step you took, like red footprints in the snow.

A meow caught your attention; Alpine stood in the bedroom doorway, her tail straight and her ears back against her head, the anxiety clear.

“Alpine! Hide under the bed,” you hissed, knowing you only had seconds before the unknown men came after you. If you were to die, there was no way you’d let them get Alpine too. Alpine stared at you momentarily, but as the tears welled in your eyes, she rushed off, perhaps understanding the weight of your command. This wasn’t belly scratches and joking around anymore.

You rushed for the knife block on the kitchen counter, but a hand on the back of your neck stopped you before you could reach it. “Nice try, bitch.”

Maddox gripped your neck and shoulders before he threw you over the kitchen counter, sending you rolling over and onto the bar stools that sat neatly on the other side. You tumbled to the ground, groaning instantly at the pain of the wood hitting you from multiple angles during your descent.

The trajectory sent you towards the dining table, and with Kage and Damien coming in close, you shot up and grabbed one of the dining chairs. You held it out like a weapon, with the legs facing outwards. Your breaths came out in short pants as tears trickled down your cheeks, while a shard of wood from the stool stuck out of your side. “What do you want? I don’t have any money, please.”

“Are you dumb enough to think we’re here for money?” Damien goaded, slowly closing in the distance between you two.

Maddox jumped the counter and landed behind you, boxing you in. With a scream, you threw the chair at Damien and attempted to flee under the dining table.

You squealed when Maddox grabbed your ankle, his grip harsh. You turned to look back at him, before you kicked him in the face with your free leg. He groaned in pain, and you didn’t check to see how bad you’d hurt him before you crawled out to the other side of the table.

Kage had been waiting for you, and when you reached him, he dealt a sharp kick to your side. The pain winded you, your mouth ajar with a shocked gasp before he kicked your ribs again.

You rolled onto your back, watching as Kage considered you from above. The way he looked at you – the malice. They were going to kill you. A woman could always sense the imposing threat that men had, for it was simply the female experience to be at the mercy of those who wanted to harm you.

You should have stopped Bucky from going – should have trusted your gut. Although, if these men wanted you dead, then there would only have been so much Bucky could do. He was a victim as much as you in the world of unfairness. A man out of time. A man who just wanted a semblance of normalcy.

It was mournful that his one good thing was becoming marred with the violence he had become so used to.

“I don’t want to die,” you wept under the man, pulling the wooden stake from your side with a cry of pain. "Please."

Turning over, you dragged your bloodied body towards your desk. The same desk you spent most of your days on. Your computer and sketchbooks were filled with hopes and dreams, colour and beautiful chaos.

Your ichor-covered hand grabbed onto the side, using it like a crutch to stand up. You couldn’t stop fighting. If you were going to perish, you’d go out swinging.

“You’re still trying? It’s pathetic. You can barely stand,” Kage growled as Damien and Maddox began wreaking havoc behind him. They were smashing and destroying everything in sight, demolishing the world you and Bucky had built with love and a cherishing touch.

“F.. Fuck you,” you weakly spat, legs burning with the need to sit down.

Kage snapped, grabbing you and dragging you across the desk. Your computer smashed onto the ground, along with all your notebooks and stationery. He threw you down on top of the mangled computer, allowing the glass of your screen to stick into your back. In a way, it wasn’t a new sensation anymore. The sharp piercing of your feet had dulled your body to the point where the new pain was no more than a sudden spike that turned into a dull ache.

“You think you’re special? You’re nothing. Not even worth expending energy on.” Kage left your side, and your sightline moved to the couch.

Bucky kept a knife under it.

Trying to not show your intention, you used your arms to pull yourself along the hardwoods towards the couch, while Maddox closed in and kept tapping your bare ass with the toe of his boot.

“I wonder what he likes about you,” Maddox considered. “Are you that good a fuck? Do you cook him meals just like the old days, huh? ‘Cause to me, you just seem like a puny helpless girl. There’s no fun in killing someone who might as well be already dead.”

His taunts made your blood boil, and when you reached the corner of the couch, you turned onto your back, facing the assailant. “Go fuck yourself. You don’t know anything.”

“Ah, see there’s a little fire. I like it when they fight back.” Maddox dropped to his knees, one on either side of your thighs so you were boxed in. “I want to watch the light drain from your eyes, see all that hope just whittle away to nothing. Because, like Kage said, you are nothing.”

He moved in closer, to the point where you could smell the stale whisky on his breath. “I wonder what body part your boyfriend will find first. Maybe I’ll put your head under the bed with your fucking cat. What do you think? Are you ready to die?”

You let out an almighty scream when you reached and grabbed the knife, pulling it out and slashing Maddox across the arm before he could react.

He was a lot faster than you, however, and the moment you got a hit in on him he jumped back, eyes turning a lot darker. “Oh, you’re fucking stupid.” He growled, before he quickly overpowered you.

In a struggle, you screamed and thrashed, but by bearing his weight onto you, Maddox could manoeuvre you. He picked you up, before slamming you back down onto the hardwood floors. Your head snapped back from the force, whacking against the ground with a loud crack. 

Everything went black for a moment, and by the time your vision came back, Maddox was squatting over you with the sole of his boot stepping on your wrist, the knife still in your grip.

“You really don’t know when to stop, huh? Can’t you see you’re going to lose no matter what you do?” Maddox’s boot pressed harder, and your wrist creaked uncomfortably under the pressure.

You let go of the knife just before your bones would reach the point of snapping, the metal clattering to the ground. Despite the tears in your eyes and the fear in your heart, you were thankful for the life you had. If this were to be the end of your existence, you were okay with that. Bucky had given you a life worth of love in the short two years you’d known him. 

As you watched the sharp eyes of the man above you, you thought of Bucky. You hoped this loss would not destroy him. The life you had experienced together would not change; those happy memories of laughter and smiles still there. You hoped he would not cry for you, but feel a blossoming love at the thought of you. Death wouldn’t have you becoming a ghost of a forgotten past, but a memory to be cherished in Bucky’s future. And you would be waiting for him on the other side, should he be expecting to see you there after his inevitable demise. You would be just around the corner, waiting like nothing had ever been lost. These men could try and take your body, but they would not take your soul. That belonged to the man thousands of miles away saving the world. “I’m not going to lose. I’ve already won.”

“Yeah? Does this feel like winning?” Maddox sneered before he picked up the blade and plunged the knife into your shoulder, the white-hot pain splintering through you like the broken glass of your shower. Your mouth opened into a silent, broken scream, the anguish unlike anything you’d felt before.

This was just a fraction of what Bucky had felt in his lifetime, yet this felt like the whole world was collapsing in on you, your body broken. Perhaps these men were right - maybe you were weak. Because the knife in your shoulder was enough to break you. Would Bucky be disappointed? Would he expect you to have put up more of a fight? The logical response would be no. But the blade slicing through your muscles made it hard to think straight.

Maddox slapped your cheek and twisted the blade. “I asked you a question, little bitch. Does this feel like you’re winning?”

Your choked cries painfully shook your shoulders, and despite it all, you nodded. “Yes. I’ve already won and you can’t take that from me.”

“Stupid fucking whore, listen to this slut. She really thinks she’s worth something.” Damien called out from behind Maddox, looking at you from over his shoulder. Kage joined the commotion, gazing at the knife lodged in your shoulder.

Without compassion, Maddox ripped the knife from your shoulder, your palms raising to try to press on the open wound. There was no reprieve with these men, however. Maddox grabbed your shoulders, ignoring your yelps and wails while he threw you over the back of the couch.

Your front dropped onto the sofa, while your ass stuck in the air on the stiff back of the couch. The fear that roiled inside you turned tenfold as Kage came up behind you, pressing on your lower back so your hips pressed painfully into the couch frame. Damien and Maddox came around your front, their crotches scarily close to your face.

“You know what we can take from you, though? Your dignity.” Kage’s hands moved from your back to the globes of your ass. “I could fuck you right here, and there’s nothing you could do about it.”

If the humiliation of being naked wasn’t enough, having the intruders touch you like this was an indignity that would change you forever. A small part of your golden soul blackened, and you didn’t know if it could ever be saved.

Damien gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at the two men. “And we could fuck that mouth of yours. Maybe even pull a few teeth if you dared fight.”

“I bet you’d love it. After all, you have to be all kinds of fucked up to fuck the Winter Soldier,” Kage said as his fingers moved to feel across your thighs.

“Don’t you dare speak about him like that. He’s more of a man than you three put together.” The mere mention of Bucky had your anger returning. You let out a huffed breath before you used the last of your depleting strength to lift your legs and kick Kage in the stomach. He didn’t move, body like a stone statue, but the movement pushed you over the couch and onto the living room floor. The plushness of the cushions did little to soften your fall, a whimpered breath coming from your tired body.

You were just so tired. The more blood you lost, the harder it was to keep going. As your ichor stained the rug below you, you glanced to the blackened television.

“Bucky, what are you doing on the floor? And is that all the stuff from the bed?”

“We’re having a pillow fort movie night. The popcorn is in the microwave.”

“It’s going to be a pain to put the bed back together, you know.”

“Then we’ll just have to sleep here. Don’t worry, I’m sure we can break it in. It’s one new surface I haven’t fucked you on yet.”

No. You couldn’t give up. You owed Bucky your best fight. You had no doubt he would do the same for you.

The assailants closed in again, the same dark-haired asshole taunting you with his menacing grin.

“Fuck you,” you spat, seeing red when he tried to grab you.

Most of the punches you threw didn’t land, but it didn’t matter to you. Your arms were a blur as you screamed and unleashed all the fury you had.

But they just laughed at your efforts. The blood loss had clearly taken full effect with the way you moved slower than you intended, your arms weakening quickly.

“Nice try, toy.” Maddox picked you up by the shoulders before throwing you into the wooden coffee table.

The thin tabletop cracked and fractured instantly, wood splintering around the dent your body left.

The pain had become immaterial, the agony reducing from a boil to a simmer as your ability to feel lessened to the point where nothing was at all. Perhaps it was your body protecting your psyche, or you were dying. Either way, it left you feeling somewhat euphoric.

"She still fighting?"

"Let her be. She isn't going anywhere."

"Dumb bitch thought she stood a chance."

Your dazed state had the men leaving you to finish trashing the house. With no immediate threat, you made your last-ditch attempt. You had to let Bucky know who killed you. You knew it would kill him to not know who attacked you.

Numbed, you took another look at the men. There was nothing too unusual about them, just their distinctive hair colours, eye colours and the symbol they all bore. You hadn’t noticed it at first, but now with your chance to inspect them, you sighted a circular insignia on the front of their black hoodies. A green… octopus?

When Damien threw a plate at you that shattered against your forearm when you raised it to defend yourself, your thoughts were cut off. The porcelain dropped around you, and you picked up one of the pieces. On it was a little drawing of a cat. You and Bucky had done a pottery art class and came home with a few plates. You picked up a second piece, a sob bubbling from your throat when you looked at the two fragments together. A little Alpine that you had drawn, and a little bird that Bucky had drawn with red wings.

You let the remnants of the plate drop to the ground, the once beautiful creation covered with your blood. They really were destroying everything. As Damien continued to vandalise the kitchen, Maddox and Damien tore apart your boxes of photos.

Even with the horror of having your life stripped away, you struggled to look away. You saw the green octopus again, and something in the back of your mind was trying to get out – to tell you what it meant.

The emblem was so familiar, and you turned onto your stomach as you thought. Pulling yourself to a free patch of hardwood flooring, you began writing out the word ‘blonde’ with your blood, trying to give Bucky anything you could.

Kage stopped you after the first word, and it was like there was cotton wool in your ears as he pulled your hand back. You assumed he said something to chastise you, but you didn’t register it.

You could see his expression, though. He was enjoying himself, laughing with his partners as he took your arms and dragged you on your back towards the front door.

When you looked up, you saw his hoodie closer, and that’s when it clicked. Hydra? But Hydra was red? And from what you heard on the news after the Triskelion incident, they were some power-crazed terrorist organisation bent on absolute control. What were they doing in your apartment? And why did they hate Bucky so much?

Bucky hadn’t told you much about his past, and part of you understood. You could tell by the vulnerable look in his eye that he was scared you’d leave him every time the Winter Soldier was brought up, which was rare.

All you knew was that he was under control as the Winter Soldier, and did some horrible things. But you never pressed, and you didn’t need to. You knew enough to know Bucky was a victim, and that was enough.

Good people like Sam and Natasha wouldn’t have continued to stand by him if Bucky was anything more than an innocent, manipulated prisoner of war. Steve would stand with Bucky regardless, but you didn’t blame him for that. Some relationships simply went further than right or wrong, innocent or guilty. Steve would stand by Bucky through thick and thin, just like you would.

But that didn’t explain why these men were here and tormenting you. This was more than just an attack – it was complete and utter destruction. The apartment was in ruins, completely desecrated.

Kage dragged and dumped your body against the entry wall, amongst the torn photos of you and Bucky. Your gaze turned to one where you were both smiling, huddling in close. It was taken on Steve’s birthday. You’d all thrown him a surprise party in the compound. You remember because Bucky had you both wear a comically bad Captain America t-shirt to tease him.

The photo, while tattered, was a reminder. While this moment was pure suffering, life was also full of moments that had your heart full of love. Life wasn’t always full of pain, and this torture was but a brief snapshot in the greater picture of your life.

Now, your heart hurt because you’d experienced such great love you knew what it was like to feel the loss. Tears trickled down your cheeks as you mourned what could have been. You should be experiencing many more birthdays and silly t-shirts, but it seemed that wasn’t what fate had planned for you.

The cries you let out were stricken with grief, and for the first time, the men went silent and just looked at you as if you were human, not just a toy for their enjoyment.

“Talk about a mood killer,” Damien sniggered, but Kage quickly raised his hand.

“Enough. Time to put her out of her misery.”

Your blood turned icy cold, dread settling in your stomach as you whimpered, too drained to run. “Please, don’t. Just leave me. I won’t tell anyone.” A blatant lie, but you had to try. You’d seen their faces, and that alone sealed your fate. "I don't want to die," you said more to yourself than to them.

“Pretty pictures. Too bad they’re a bit stained.” Maddox mocked as he picked up one of the discarded photo albums. It was the heaviest one, full of memories that were now soaked with your blood.

Maddox handed the album to Kage, unbothered by the drips of red that hit the floor. 

They all stood before you as Kage flipped through the pages, his features hardened. “He’s so happy. Let’s see if the monster smiles now.”

Kage slammed the book closed, sealing your fate between his hands. That part of your life was ending, and these three were writing your future.

There was no point pleading with them, and you were too devoid of energy to do more than sit with shallow breaths, awaiting your death.

But one last ounce of adrenaline coursed through your veins as you tried to keep your eyes open. "His name is Bu-"

Kage raised the photo album before slamming it down on your head. It knocked you out instantly, the world going black as your body toppled to the side.

But the reaper didn’t come. Your heart continued beating, lungs filling with air.

Your suffering was due to continue. This wasn’t the end.

[navybrat817]

𝑬𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅

✧˚ · . a collaboration between @navybrat817 and @sgt-seabass

Stay reformed. Erase this perfect world. Hate left below. The dark stray dog of war. (x)

Pairing — Bucky Barnes x Reader W/C — Almost 5k This is a dark fic. 18+ only. Listening to - Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea Previous part - A Tide of War and Broken Dreams

Warnings — angst, kidnapping, aftermath of attack, injuries, threat of violence against reader, Hydra exists, Bucky whump A/N — Welcome to the next part of our Vengeance AU! Quick reminder that this is a dark fic and things are going to be extremely rough for our reader (and Bucky) in the upcoming parts. Please heed the warnings and we hope you enjoy the ride!

Coming home to you was the thing Bucky looked forward to the most after a mission. Whether you were wide awake to greet him with a smile or curled up in bed sound asleep, the sight of you was like coming home every time. The love of his life, you taught him to believe in dreams again when he lived in a nightmare for so long. While he was darkness and pain, you were light and warmth and hope. You were part of his redemption, his dream he had long forgotten come true.

In hindsight, he should've thanked you more for loving him.

Even as his shoulders sagged from exhaustion, he smiled to himself as he took his keys from his pocket. You drew interlocking hearts with a red marker on the apartment key after his last mission. It was a reminder that the two of you had a home made with love. And that he had someone to come back to.

In hindsight, he should've shown more appreciation for the small things you did for him.

When Bucky got to the door, he wondered if you were awake or asleep since it was still early. Would you wake up if he joined you in bed? He hoped you got enough rest without him, remembering how you tried to get him to stay home. You seemed more nervous than normal for him to leave and it wasn't easy for him to shake, but you were safe there. And once he kicked his boots off and greeted Alpine, he'd wrap himself up in you as he put the mission behind him. He refused to let his work, or past, taint the beautiful space you created together.

In hindsight, he should've listened when you asked him to stay.

Darkness greeted him as he undid the multiple locks and pushed the door open, his senses on high alert when he noticed objects strewn along the floor in the dark. Alpine knocked things over when she had her zoomies, but this was something different. The aura of the room was heavy, and when Bucky stepped inside he could feel the air thicken suffocatingly. He reached for his gun as he listened for any sign of someone in the apartment. When he didn't hear any voices, or heartbeats, he turned on the light switch. He nearly got sick when the smell drifted to his nostrils.

Blood.

It was quickly becoming apparent that something was very, very wrong. Bucky’s heart spiked in a flurry, and while he wanted to freak out, his tactical survival mindset switched on, his emotions temporarily waning. The former assassin and current sergeant trembled as he stepped forward, careful not to track his footsteps through the blood in the hall. If this was a crime scene… He pushed the thought away as he glanced down at a photo of the two of you, the red fluid staining the beautiful memory and drowning out the happiness.

He experienced hell, but it still didn't prepare him for the sight of your living room as he kept his gun trained. Everything from the table to your hard work lay in scattered pieces. The sight of destruction made his stomach turn. It was as if someone wanted to ruin the care put into this place. Even the air was colder, shadows taking over the normally bright space.

It was pure destruction.

Why didn't he get an alert of a break-in? His security wasn't as good as Stark's system, but he should've received something. He knew the signs of a robbery, but this was something else entirely. Whoever did this knew what they were doing and he feared what that meant for you.

"What is that?" he muttered, stepping over broken dishes as he saw something written in blood.

BLONDE

His brilliant and amazing other half tried to leave him a clue.

All his training and thought went out the window as he spotted the knife normally hidden under the couch soaked with blood feet away, screaming your name as he frantically searched for you. He choked on a sob as glass crunched under the boots, the bathroom in the same disarray as the rest of the apartment. The bloody footprints led away from the room. Was this where it started?

You put up a fight, didn't you, doll?

Fury surged through him at the thought of someone hurting and scaring you, for daring to put their hands on you. You weren't trained to fight and you didn't deal with pain well, but you had spirit. You had heart. But he wasn't here to defend you.

In hindsight, he should've been there to protect you.

"Meow."

Bucky pointed his gun at the ground as he spun around, a tear sliding down his cheek when he saw Alpine's normally white fur darkened red. He holstered his weapon before he crouched down to check her. Physically, she was fine, but he knew she was shaken up. So was he. "Hey. I've got you," he whispered, trying to soothe her and himself when she nuzzled his chest.

Keeping her close, he finally made his way to the bedroom. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine you were there, stretched out and smiling as you welcomed him home. He could join you, hold you, and know he was home. But all he saw was an empty bed.

You were gone.

In hindsight, he never should've gone on that mission.

"Who did this, Al? Where is she?" he asked, wishing his cat could tell him what happened. You were kind to everyone. You had no enemies. Everyone loved you.

I love you so much, doll.

Trying one last thing, he got his phone out to call you and hoped by some miracle you'd answer.

You didn't.

"Hi! You've reached the voicemail of…"

Hearing your cheerful voicemail unleashed his tears as he hung up and collapsed on the bed. The scent of your perfume lingered on the sheets as Alpine curled up in his lap and for a moment it was as if you were there to assure him you were hanging on. To not give up on you.

Never. I'd fight for you 'til my last breath.

It took him a moment to dial Steve's number, trying his best to keep it together as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. This was his fault. It had to be. He could blame himself later. For now, he had to find you. He had to bring you home. And he tear apart the blonde monster who dared to lay a hand on you.

"Hey, Bucky. What's going on?" Steve asked as he answered.

There was a beat of silence before Bucky let out a choked sob. He placed his hand over his mouth for a moment, whimpers slipping past his fingers before he got the words out.

"She's gone," he whispered, a tear falling on Alpine's head.

"What?"

"She's gone," he repeated as he cried, the sound drowning out Steve's voice. The last time he broke down like this was in Wakanda, the day he was free of Hydra's hold over him. That was the beginning of a new dawn, like when you entered his life.

But today was the beginning of a brand new nightmare.

Wherever you are, please, hold on.

Pain, by definition, is an unpleasant sensory and emotional experience associated with actual or potential tissue damage, or described in terms of such damage. What you felt as you tried to open your eyes went beyond unpleasant, the physical anguish drawing a groan from you began to sit up. Your body screamed at your mind to lay back down as your vision slowly adjusted to the light, immediately recognizing that you weren’t in your home by the look of the dirty ceiling.

Where am I?

The last thing you remembered were the three strangers, your attackers, standing over your weakened body. You had no clue what shape you were in, but it couldn’t be great judging by the ache you felt just from waking up. You didn't know what you had done to receive their wrath, but they miraculously listened to your plea and didn't kill you. For a moment, you thought the men were going to leave your lifeless body for Bucky to find.

Bucky.

The physical pain shifted to your heart as you imagined him getting back to the apartment only to find it in ruin. You didn’t know when he would return from his mission or how long you were unconscious, but you had to get back to him. He needed to know you survived and he sure as hell wouldn’t just lay there if he were in your shoes. You had to be strong for him, even if you felt weak.

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly began to push yourself up. The left side of your body protested, but you managed to get in a sitting position after a few seconds. Glancing down, you pulled the flimsy sheet away and expected to see random splotches of dried blood on your naked body. You found none because someone took the liberty of cleaning you and putting an oversized shirt on you.

Who did that?

The only relief you felt was there was no soreness between your legs. They kept your dignity intact and didn't taint that part of your soul. You would take the pain over that.

You gingerly touched your left shoulder, wincing as you felt the wrapping under the fabric. The brunette stabbed you, the flash of the memory in your mind making your stomach lurch. But was he the one who patched up your wound? There were bandages around your feet, too. Who removed the shards of glass? Or were they cruel enough to leave them there?

You fought the urge not to cry when you noticed the cuff around your left ankle attached to a chain. Sniffling, you slowly swung your legs to the side of the bed, the clinking sound momentarily distracting you from the ache as you set your feet on the ground. The musky smell of the filthy room filled your nostrils as you looked around. It reminded you of a basement, but worse. The average size room had no windows. A lone light in the ceiling. A toilet. A sink. And a bucket beside the bed.

The one someone chained you to.

Like a prisoner.

You braced your hands on your knees to keep your breathing even, but it didn’t stop your stomach from lurching again at the reality and stress of your situation. Combined with the ache of your body and the smell on your cell, you managed to grab the bucket just in time before you wretched. You hated throwing up, almost as much as you hated being in pain. You could never put your finger on why you couldn't handle it well. Maybe it was because you had little experience in dealing with it in comparison to someone like Bucky.

"Ouch!" you hissed, shoving the paper away on your desk. "Damn."

"You okay?" Bucky called from the kitchen, his footsteps already heading toward you.

"Paper cut," you pouted, showing him. His look of concern made your heart swell. "Will you kiss it better?

"Poor thing," he said, his tone sympathetic and not chastising as he helped you up. "I'll kiss it once I put a bandaid on it."

"Why do they hurt so much?" you asked as he led you to the bathroom, feeling silly for saying that. It was just a paper cut.

"Because paper is actually jagged and acts more like a saw than a knife blade," Bucky explained, giving your finger a kiss once he cleaned and wrapped a bandage around it. "And there are a lot of pain receptors in your fingers. Cutting through those nerve endings hurts."

"You're so smart," you smiled, your finger tingling as he gave it one more kiss. "I'm just a baby."

"You're not a baby. You're allowed to feel what you feel," he assured you, pressing his lips against yours. "Just be glad it wasn't your foot."

"How would someone get a paper cut on their foot?" you giggled when he smiled.

"It could happen. And if it does, I'll kiss it better."

“I’m okay,” you whispered again after you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

A tear rolled down your cheek as you stood up and you couldn’t stop the whimper as you took a step forward. While you didn’t think they left any glass in your feet, it sure as hell hurt to put your weight on them. Your legs shook as you moved toward the sink, which was far from the door. It was slow going, but you put one foot in front of the other. You longed to feel Alpine rub her fur against your leg as you rinsed your mouth out with surprisingly clean water.

At least those bastards didn’t hurt her. Or did they?

You didn’t make a mad dash for the door, not wanting to do more damage to yourself, but you tried to move a little faster. Each step was more painful than the last and you nearly collapsed when the chain couldn’t give any further. You whined as you tried to stretch and touch the door. Of course, you couldn’t reach it, but you were so close.

Yet so far away.

"Come on," you whispered, unable to hold back a sob when you yanked on the chain.

For some reason, maybe it was fear or thinking no one would help, you didn’t scream. It wouldn’t do you any good when you didn’t have much energy to spare. You tried to think of what Bucky or any of the other Avengers would do in this situation as you wiped the tears away. Not like they’d let something like this happen to them. No, you couldn’t think like that. This wasn’t your fault.

The only ones to blame were the ones who took you.

You didn't get a chance to feel along the walls or look around any further when you heard three sharp bangs on the door. Stumbling backwards, you winced as you fell against the mattress and watched the door swing open. You couldn't stop your heart from pounding at the sight of the three men casually entering the room. The ones who ruined your home.

And took you from Bucky.

Your attackers stared you down as you cowered on the bed. They no longer wore the hoodies with the green symbols, each of them clad in black t-shirts and tactical pants. The brunette crossed his arms and looked all too pleased at your present state. The dirty blonde glanced around the room with a sneer, like he was too good to be inside of a dirty cell. The blonde who attacked you first showed no emotion as you hugged your knees to your chest.

Up close, and from your sitting position, the men were large and intimidating in stature. The room felt smaller from the space they took up, threatening to suffocate you. They easily tossed you around your home and you didn't want to imagine the damage they would do to you here. You were a doe in a den of wolves.

Would you manage to get out of the woods?

“About time you woke up, toy,” the brunette said, checking the chain to make sure it was still secure. "I was about three seconds away from dumping water on you."

“She looks like shit,” the dirty blonde commented with a small chuckle.

Heat filled your cheeks. You hadn't looked in a mirror, but of course, you looked awful. Felt like it, too. What did they expect when they nearly beat you to death?

"I guess we didn’t get to properly introduce ourselves, did we? I’m Maddox. That’s Damien. And that’s Kage. We already know who you are, but your name doesn’t really matter.”

You remembered them referencing each other as they attacked you, but you didn’t recognize them from anywhere. Bucky never mentioned them. They were distinct enough to stand out if he had.

Kage didn't acknowledge how you stiffened as he got close to you. Gently pulling on the sleeve of the shirt, he checked your shoulder and glided a warm hand down the other side of your body. Was he going to hurt you again? What about the others? You didn’t see any obvious weapons on them, but that didn’t mean anything. They were strong enough to beat you if you tried to fight. The thought had you hugging yourself tighter when you felt the blonde's breath on your neck.

“Told you the little bitch would puke,” Maddox said, nodding toward the bucket when Kage finally pulled away. You woke up chained to a bed in an unfamiliar place. How were you supposed to react? "You’re not much of a conversationalist,” he added, making you move back against the wall as he stepped closer this time.

There were plenty of things you wanted to say, but you kept your mouth shut.

"You’re really not going to say anything? That’s rude,” Damien said, nudging Kage with his elbow. “Why isn’t she talking?”

“Ask her,” the blonde replied.

“Why aren’t you talking to us?” Damien asked, crouching down and patting your cheek harder than necessary. You didn't want any of them touching you. “We know you’re not deaf, so speak.”

You didn't know much about him, but his tone came across as entitled. Like he expected people to jump at his word. "I’m scared," you admitted.

“You should be,” Maddox mocked, pulling Damien back a little. "But I don’t see what being scared has to do with you not talking. You were pretty mouthy with your whole ‘I’m still winning’ bullshit.”

"I’m scared because you almost killed me," you told them, the words tasting like ash in your mouth. Had they really forgotten that or did they not care?

"But we didn't. We let you live,” Damien said, like you should’ve thanked him for allowing you to still breathe. “Your vocal chords still work. Use them."

"I don’t want to," you whispered. All you wanted to do was go home and let Bucky know you were okay. “I don’t want to talk to any of you.”

The humor left Maddox’s face at your answer. "You say that like we give a shit about what you want. Talk, or we'll cut your tongue out if you refuse to use it."

Fear spiked at the threat, knowing it wasn't an empty one. The man stabbed you in the shoulder simply because you tried to fight back. "Okay, I will," you promised, though you weren’t sure what they wanted you to say. "Thank you for patching me up."

Even though they were the ones who inflicted the wounds, they could've easily let infection set in or not tend to them at all. Your statement didn't get much of a reaction from them though, minus the slight look of surprise on Damien's face. "You should be thankful. Put this roof over your head, too."

"Thanks," you said again. At least you had a bed. "Where are we?"

He burst out laughing. What was so funny? "We're in a room. And here we thought you were smart being a graphic designer and all."

"How did you know that?" you asked when his laughter died down. Did they discover that when they wrecked your place or did they do their research on you?

"Dami's great with computers and systems," Maddox smirked, clapping him proudly on the shoulder. The younger man preened at the compliment. "Your security system's lacking, but the camera loves you."

These monsters hacked your apartment cameras? Invaded your privacy? It was a violation that neither of you deserved. It was how they likely knew Bucky wouldn't be home to help you. "Why were you watching my place?"

"We have our reasons," Kage replied, not expanding on the topic.

Maybe, by some miracle, the cameras picked up on what happened to you. As much as you didn't want Bucky to witness your attack and kidnapping, it could give him clues to your whereabouts since you were only able to write one word in blood. "Are you going to let me go?”

"Kage, I think that hit to the head did more damage than we thought," Damien joked.

"Let's clarify for that baby brain of yours: We're not letting you go, so don't fucking ask,” Maddox stated.

Your heart sank the longer you sat there. "Is it money that you want?" you asked. Had they demanded a ransom from Bucky or anyone else for your release?

"Oh, please," Maddox rolled his eyes, as if you asked a stupid question. "Didn’t we already tell you this isn’t about money? Damien has more than he knows what to do with."

“Then what is it about? I haven’t done anything to you. To any of you,” you pleaded, wishing you were stronger. But was it weak to beg? To want to go free? “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

"How self centered to think this is about you."

"I-I'm not self centered,” you gently argued. You weren’t a perfect person, but you had a good heart and wouldn’t hurt anyone for the world. “I'm just trying to understand."

"Aww. Of course, you are. Because that's the kind of person you are, aren't you?” The brunette grabbed your chin with an iron grip, squeezing hard enough to make you whimper before he let you go. “So kind and understanding and willing to look past flaws? Living in your happy little bubble where nothing can touch you?"

Maybe, in some ways, you did live in a rose colored world. Your life was a happy one overall. Bucky shielded you from some of the things he did and the horrors he went through. Was it a means to keep you safe or to keep you blissfully unaware of the darkness of the world?

“Why did you attack me? You mentioned Bucky-”

You shrieked when Maddox kicked the bucket against the wall, his fingers flexing like he wanted to hit something. Damien had a similar look of fury on his face. Kage was the only one who didn’t physically react, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t upset. “Don’t say his fucking name,” he spoke above a whisper, something dangerous in his voice making you shudder.

“I’m sorry,” you said, not wanting to anger them any further. Bucky worked hard to make amends for the actions he was forced to carry out, at least the ones you knew about. What was the history with these men? The green octopus on their hoodies briefly flashed in your mind. "If you won't let me go and you don't want money, why bring me here? Why didn't you kill me?"

"Because it isn't your time to die yet,” Damien shrugged.

It was both comforting and fearful that they didn't kill you. By bringing you here, they had some sort of plan. Besides violence, what else were they capable of and what would they do to you in the process?

"Death is a privilege earned through pain. And you need a hell of a lot more before you get there," Maddox chastised as you put on what you hoped was a brave face. Were they going to try and break you? No, you wouldn't let them. "Plus, you’re Damien’s first girlfriend, so we can’t get rid of you just yet."

"Shut the fuck up," he snapped, his cheeks red as he glanced at his friend. "I’ve had plenty of girlfriends."

You wondered if he chained them up in dirty rooms like this, but chose not to ask.

"What, in high school?" Maddox chuckled.

"Fuck off. I’m not a teenager!"

As the two of them bickered, Kage continued to stare at you with an unreadable expression on his face. And his eyes? They took on an unnatural shade of blue that sent another shiver down your spine before you blinked, the irises going back to normal. Maybe the light in the cell was playing tricks on you.

His eyes lingered on you still as he addressed the others. "That's enough. Go over the rules."

Damien huffed, but conceded. Kage's words seemed to hold weight for him. "Since we're kind enough to let you stay here until we decide to get rid of you, you’ll do what we tell you."

Meaning, until they decided to kill you. Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you nodded. Maybe if you behaved, you could bide your time and find a way out of this. Or at least hold on until Bucky found you. “What are the rules?”

“So glad you asked,” Maddox smiled. “First rule. You’ll eat three meals a day, whatever we give you, without complaint. You don’t eat it, we’ll shove a fucking tube down your throat. Is that understood?”

You nodded again. You’d eat so you could keep up your strength. It was also better than starving.

“A nod isn’t a good enough answer. Say, ‘yes, Maddox',” he said slowly.

The urge to snap was quickly smothered by fear and uncertainty. “Yes, Maddox.”

“That’s a good girl,” he said, a darkness in his eyes that made your skin crawl. “Next rule. You’ll brush your teeth after each meal, but you’re not allowed to keep your toothbrush. Don’t want you trying to use it as a weapon.”

“Why do you want me to brush my teeth?” you couldn’t help but ask. They harmed you and kept chained you in a cell, but cared about your hygiene?

“Because we don’t want your teeth to rot," Damien answered, a wide smile on his face. "If you lose them, it'll be because we knocked them out or pulled them out.”

You refused to throw up in front of them, but you were pretty close as your stomach lurched. These men were sick, but they wouldn't have those smiles on their faces once Bucky got his hands on them. "Brush my teeth after each meal and give the toothbrush back when I'm done."

"Like a fucking parrot. So proud," Maddox muttered, holding up three fingers as you hung your head. Did they have to be so rude? "Rule three. Don't lay in bed all day, Get up, walk around, stretch. Just because you aren’t allowed to leave this room doesn’t mean you can be lazy while we work.”

You wished you were working. You longed to be at your computer, bringing your visions to life. Maybe you could piece together the damage they had done once you were free and pick up where you left off.

"I'll walk around," you said, wondering how long your feet would take to heal.

“And rule four. You don’t give us the silent treatment," Damien said, narrowing his eyes. "If we ask you a question or initiate a conversation, you're expected to answer. You don't get to ignore us after we let you live."

Did they think you owed them something for not killing you? That it was a privilege for you to live? "I'll talk," you said, only if you had to. "What happens if I break a rule?"

"We'll punish you," Maddox smirked, his dark eyes sparkling with excitement as you shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "Please, break a rule."

"We'll go over punishments later," Kage said, checking the time on his watch. "We need to feed her. Let's go."

You got unsteadily to your feet as they moved toward the door, attempting one last plea. "Please, let me go," you begged, immediately regretting your words when three pairs of eyes glared in your direction. You couldn't take it back, but you couldn’t stop either. “Bu- My boyfriend will come looking for me if you don’t. He'll get me out of here.”

All you wanted to do was go home.

“We’re counting on him to look for you,” Damien smiled.

“One last rule for now,” Kage added as Maddox walked toward you with a scowl. “Don’t say his name or ever ask to go back to him.”

Before you could back away, the brunette deliberately stepped on your foot. If that wasn't bad enough, he pushed a finger against your stitched shoulder. A wounded sound left your mouth as searing pain shot up and down your arm and leg. You were barely able to make out his face as black spots danced in front of your eyes.

"Order comes through pain," he said, pressing his boot in more as you sucked in a breath. He released your foot seconds later and harshly shoved you to the bed as your chest heaved. "You better get used to it."

"Kage just changed her bandages before she woke up," Damian snapped when you gripped your shoulder, your body still shaking a little.

"Oh, boohoo. She can lick up any of the blood she spills. She'll need the hydration," Maddox said before the cell door slammed shut, their footsteps fading into nothing.

Reaching for Bucky's dog tags around your neck for comfort, something to remind you that you weren't alone, you remembered they were gone. They took them from you. The floodgates opened, soaking the sheet with your tears. Your captors terrified you and you couldn't figure out their angle. They had an issue with Bucky, but hadn't asked any questions about him or the Avengers. They hadn't tortured you for any kind of information. What could you as a civilian tell them anyway?

What did they want?

I'll hold on, Bucky. I'll try and be strong for you.

Your boyfriend would find you. He wouldn't give up until he did. But it didn't stop you from crying in your cold cell. And it didn't stop the blinking red light in the corner capturing it all, documenting the next chapter of your nightmare.

Our poor reader. More to come soon. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

[starcrossedjedis]

Chronicles of Narnia

Lady Leila in "Spring's Awakening"

(Prince Caspian x OFC)

~

House of the Dragon

Elyana Dondarrion, Alyse Baratheon and Catelyn Baratheon in the "Violent Delights" series

(Criston Cole x OFC // OC x OC // Jace Targaryen x OFC)

~

Harry Potter

Moira Finnigan, Evanora Black and Minerva Weasley in the "Forces of Nature" series

(Sirius Black x OFC // George Weasley x OFC // Scorpius Malfoy x OFC)

~

Game of Thrones

Lyra Stark in "Morning Star"

(Arthur Dayne x OFC)

Tarlesyn Sand in "A Tale of Sand and Snow"

(Sansa Stark x OMC)

~

MCU

Mila Lebedev in "Breaking Pointe"

(Bucky Barnes x OFC)

~

Mortal Kombat

Katherine Chen in "Burning Bright"

(Liu Kang x OFC)

~

Primeval

Eleanor Taylor in "Heart over Matter"

(Captain Becker x OFC)

~

Star Wars

Cassia of Aquilea in "Distant Stars"

(Poe Dameron x OFC)

Nyka'a Sundar and Jaren Korr in "Star Crossed"

(OC x OC)

Jay Vendar (and his found family) in "Rebirth"

(OC x OC)

Inara'a Brae (& Khaii Al'Canthar) in "Through the Mist"

(Obi Wan Kenobi x OFC // OC x OC)

~

Stranger Things

Farrah Wheeler in "Danger Zone"

(Eddie Munson x OFC)

~

The Musketeers

Gigi LaRue in "Liaisons Dangereuses"

(Aramis x OFC)

~

Titans (~though mostly the vibes I got from the Gotham I grew up with)

Catherine Williams in "9 Crimes"

(Dick Grayson x OFC // OC x OC)

~

Top Gun

Charlotte Barnett in "Let me In" (comes with a content warning, but that's just because Tumblr is a mess^^)

(Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OFC)

~

Yellowjackets

Grace Huang (& Lucy Huang) in "Jaded"

(Adam Martin x OFC)

~

[themculibrary]

Crimes & Criminals Masterlist

Ain't Nobody's Business If I Do (ao3) - copperbadge steve/tony, pepper/natasha M, 38k

Summary: The year is 1930, Prohibition and the Depression are both in full swing, and Chicago Police Detective Steve Rogers has his hands full. There's a dead body on the banks of Lake Michigan, the entire city's legal system is corrupt, and the king gangster of the North Side, Tony Stark, has taken more than a passing interest in him.

Being In His Possession (ao3) - valiantlybold steve/bucky E, 52k

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes is nineteen years old, and he is about to make what might be the worst decision of his short little life.

But little by little, he comes to like his new place of employment, as well as his employer. Well... Maybe a little more than just like.

Coulson's Eleven (ao3) - copperbadge pepper/tony T, 32k

Summary: After Vanko destroyed the Stark Expo, SHIELD instituted a Superhuman Detention program, designed to capture and hold dangerous people -- dangerous people like Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, and others who made themselves noticeable. The superhumans SHIELD has imprisoned -- and some SHIELD agents themselves -- have other ideas about what constitutes 'dangerous'...

Countdown (ao3) - ShesLikeTexas steve/tony, pepper/happy, bucky/natasha E, 96k

Summary: Mob Boss Steve Rogers kidnaps Tony Stark and gives him 365 days to fall in love with him.

During Business Hours: A Filthy Coffee Shop AU (ao3) - samanthahirr steve/bucky E, 25k

Summary: Unemployed artist Steve takes a job managing the worst coffee shop in Brooklyn, where the floors are greasy, the coffee beans have expired, the espresso machine’s been sabotaged, and the owners might be Russian Mafia. But the job comes with a few perks, like a generous paycheck, reasonable hours, and one super-hot customer whom Steve can’t resist having dirty, filthy, bad-idea sex with in the bathroom.

Steve is pretty sure this job is going to kill him. But what a way to go....

Fractals of a Criminal Mind (ao3) - STARSdidathing loki/tony, steve/bucky M, 132k

Summary: AU. Tony Stark is the Top Forensic Scientist at S.H.I.E.L.D. and possibly in the world - if he does say so himself - there’s only one person he’s come up against and can’t beat: international criminal mastermind Loki Laufeyson. He’s gotten close but Loki always has a lackey to throw in front of the blame. He’s completely untouchable and if Loki wasn’t his enemy than Tony would be marvelling at and adoring his genius. But Tony can’t, because he’s a good guy, he has morals and a duty to the public that he’s trying to protect. Loki Laufeyson, however, is equally fascinated and he doesn’t do anything other than what he wants. COMPLETE.

Guns Not Butter (ao3) - reserve steve/bucky, bucky/omc E, 10k

Summary: It's 1941. Bucky Barnes lives with his best friend Steve Rogers, and all Bucky wants is to do right by him.

That means he'll do anything.

Heat of the Night (ao3) - Kellyscams steve/bucky, natasha/sam, clint/natasha/sam, bucky/alexander M, 186k

Summary: Based on this prompt: Steve is a cop. Bucky is the kept boyfriend of the super rich bad guy. Bucky doesn’t really have any information because his sole job is to look good when they go out. But he gets Steve’s card and he calls him and Steve meets him for lunch and coffee and dinner and Steve knows this could be a bad thing. He knows Bucky could be a trap. But the way he talks, how he smiles at Steve, laughs like it’s a sound he’s not used to making...Steve thinks he could be worth it. Steve thinks he could be worth everything. (via tumblr user disappointme)

I'm Not In Love (ao3) - 74days steve/bucky T, 6k

Summary: James 'Bucky' Barnes is the Winter Soldier, head of the Romanov Family - a well connected mob boss and cold hearted killer. He's trying to have a good time at his birthday party when it's crashed by the NYPD. Or is it?

Keeper (ao3) - HepG2 steve/tony E, 81k

Summary: “Uh, I’m… very new to the whole thing,” Tony swallows visibly. He uncrosses his legs and grabs his cup again. “I looked at pictures. Research. They look graphic.” 

Tony Stark is a journalist hanging onto the last of his life lines. He needs new writing materials. Something that sells. Then the whole town is talking about a BDSM play gone wrong, and there it is. His story.   Steve chuckles again. Tony notices he hasn’t touched his drink. “No worries. It’s very unlikely for us to take it up to that level.

It takes two to tango.

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes (ao3) - SmolderingFlame steve/bucky E, 90k

Summary: Steve Rogers is the most dangerous man in Brooklyn. Bucky Barnes is the son of an abusive drunk who needs to pay off a serious gambling debt. Just so happens Steve has a thing for pretty brunettes with feisty attitudes.

The Captain (ao3) - arianapeterson19 steve/tony T, 1k

Summary: Tony was convinced that the men who had nabbed him off the street had the wrong guy; Tony didn't know any guy named the Captain. However, if the Captain wanted to show up and tell them that, Tony would really appreciate it.

OR

The one where Steve really should have told his boyfriend he was a mob boss BEFORE he was kidnapped.

The Secrets We Keep (ao3) - Us_Alive pepper/tony, ben/may N/R, 79k

Summary: “Who are all these people?” Pepper looked at the crowd forming around them.

Tony flashed his million-dollar smile that always made Pepper melt. “Don’t worry about them Pep, it’s just business.”

So, Pepper let it go. She shouldn’t have.

Pepper's life was perfect. Tony was the perfect husband, gentleman and he made her feel like the luckiest woman alive. It was everything she dreamed of.

But she soon finds out Tony's biggest secret. So she hides her biggest secret by running away. Problem is, Tony is not about to let her go.

The Ties That Bind Us (ao3) - Winterturtle pepper/tony T, 74k

Summary: Peter Parker is ordinary high school student, living alone in apartment in Queens. He doesn’t see his parents very often due to their work. However, his life turns upside-down when Tony Stark, the most feared and powerful man in New York, gives an order to kidnap him to use him as leverage against his parents to get one of his people back. Parker luck strikes in the worst possible moments, events from the past surface and secrets are revealed, changing everybody’s lives.

 Now Tony needs to learn how to be a dad. What will Peter do once he learns the truth of his true parentage?

Who Prays for The Devil? (ao3) - Bourneblack steve/bucky E, 79k

Summary: A mafia AU slams into a coffee shop AU, and out pops a cracky, fluffy, smutty, and angsty identity porn fic between son-of-a-mafia boss Bucky Barnes and clueless coffee shop owner Steve Rogers that takes a brief look into the bowels of the American healthcare system.

[sjsmith56]

Bucky Barnes, Deadpool and the TVA (or How I ended up inside the fourth wall)

Summary: A Bucky Barnes fanfiction writer finds herself in the same universe as the Thunderbolts* Bucky when she wakes up in his bed.

Length: 4.1 K

Characters: Unnamed and undescribed OFC, Bucky Barnes, Dr. Strange, Wong, B-15, variant of OFC, OMC (OFC’s husband)

Warnings: some sexual innuendo, naked horny Bucky, no smut (sorry)

Author notes: Just a silly story that I pulled from somewhere in my mind. The part about the OFC and her husband seeing the new Deadpool movie at a matinee was based on real life.

💻 🦾 🛵

The blank page stared at me.  It wasn't blank five minutes ago, but I read what I wrote, and didn't like it, so I deleted it and then I was looking at the page again.  We met before, you, the reader and me, the writer.  I sought help from the very reason I write, Bucky Barnes.  The writing gods first sent me World War II Bucky, a sweet flirty guy who was still interested in the stories I wrote.  The version that appeared to me was from before Azzano and before the train; that dreadful transport of death that changed his whole life in a moment.  Then they sent me the Winter Soldier, the dark brooding villain ... I know, he was more than that, but that was HYDRAs use of him.  He was their Fist, brutally carrying out assassinations on targets they assigned him.  Relentless and frightening in his attention to his task he was still a sight to see; that tall, dark-haired muscular menace and the way he strutted towards his target.  No hesitation, no regrets and totally the object of many fantasies.  I still got warm thinking about the ones I read about, never mind wrote.  On that day, it was Falcon and the Winter Soldier (FATWS) Bucky who came to my rescue.  It was him as he was portrayed at the end of the series, seemingly in a place where he felt at home in Delacroix, becoming part of Sam Wilson's family as their adopted uncle.  That Bucky sat with me, helped me through my writer's block, and even gave me an idea for a Black Widow smut piece that was a gift to my husband.  Before he left, he said he would always be there for me.  At the time, he probably meant it.  Then there was a disturbance in the Force.

Wrong franchise, I know, but how else to explain how things seemed to go a bit sideways?  There were the What If? episodes, that displayed Bucky as the sidekick to Captain Carter.  Those was okay, then he was more of the dark brooding long-hair version of Wakanda Bucky in a zombie wasteland.  At least we got to see a cartoon version of him in the shower, from the waist up.  Wasn't quite enough to quench the fandom's thirst for him but it was a start.  Don't even get me started on the Guardians of the Galaxy Christmas special where Nebula appeared with Bucky's vibranium arm, opening a whole can of worms over whether it was funny (not to me), cute (seriously stealing Bucky's arm is cute?) and canon (no, James Gunn, it wasn't canon to me).  Yes, I'm changing the tense in the middle of a paragraph by telling you to don't @ me if you're a believer in any of the three above.  To me, all three of those scenarios were just wrong.  I got emotional then and I still do.

I wrote since then, some AUs, lots of one shots as I explored that format, several short fiction pieces of less than 50,000 words, and a couple of long ones.  It was going well, then they brought out the Captain America 4 announcement that Bucky wouldn't be in it (what?) and the Thunderbolts* announcement that Sam Wilson wouldn't be in that (seriously?).  Why did they get us to invest our time and interest in a six-part series about these two men forging a deep friendship if they had no intention of continuing it in their movies?  The rumours about Bucky in this upcoming movie littered the pages of tumblr and Twitter (sorry / not sorry X); things like Bucky regressed mentally and emotionally, he and Sam had a falling out, he became a congressman, or he went to work for Val de Fontaine so that he didn't lose his pardon. 

Why would they do that to Bucky?  Let the man have a fucking life.  As you could see I got emotional about it.  On that particular day I decided to have a nap and clear my mind, then it all changed.

💤

"Hey, sweetheart."  I could hear the voice, then I felt a cold hand around my waist, reaching up under my T-shirt.  Jerking away and turning around I found myself in bed with Bucky Barnes, beefy Bucky, with the bad haircut shown in the leaked preview of the Thunderbolts*.   "There she is."

He had no shirt on, and I found it hard to look at him, then opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out.  I noticed the smirk on his face, which made me feel warm, like really warm, the way the writers of Bucky smut describe it; a warm pool forming in my core, between my thighs, deep in my ....  What happened to me?  Where was I?

"You okay, doll?  You have a nightmare?"  His hand cupped my jaw, as he rubbed his thumb on my cheek.

"You're Bucky," I said, still frozen in place, because let's face it, it's not everyday you find yourself in bed with your romantic fantasy.

"Last I checked," he answered, licking his lips then running his hand over the beard he grew since he was in FATWS.  "You're my wife."

I pulled away from him, aware that he might not have anything on at all.  He looked at me funny.

"You seem different.  Tell me you're not a multiverse version of you that's been dropped here."

"I don't know," I answered, pulling the sheet up to cover my front since I realized I wasn't wearing a bra, and my nipples were doing something that was a little disconcerting.  "Am I a writer?  Are we married?  Are you working for Val de Fontaine?"

He laughed, showing those beautiful white teeth, then he leaned close, gently pulling down the sheet and began to nuzzle my neck, making me feel all sorts of things.

"No, yes, and no," he answered.  "Come here."

I pulled away so far that I fell out of bed and sat there on the floor with him looking over the edge at me with a decidedly perturbed expression on his face.  With only panties on underneath that T-shirt I pulled on the sheet, so I was covered again.

"What's got into you?"

"What's my name, Bucky?"

"Sweetheart, sunshine, baby girl, darlin' and my personal favourite, doll."  He was resting his head on his hands, looking at me in a way that was definitely more friendly than I was comfortable with.

"Those aren't names, they're terms of endearment," I answered.  "I am married but not to you and you're supposed to be an Avenger, with Sam Wilson."

"Really, just who are you married to and what is your name?" he asked, in a flirting manner.  "Gotta say, sunshine, this role-playing thing could be fun."

I told him my husband's name and my name.  "I shouldn't be part of the multiverse because it's not real.  It's fiction."

He laughed, then saw I wasn't laughing and frowned.  Angry Bucky alert.  "You have to be from the multiverse.  If you're not, where's my wife?  Why do you look and sound like her?"

I raised my hands up.  "I don't know where she is.  I look like her because I write fanfiction of you, and I picture myself in the original female character's role.  She usually becomes your love interest.  But I had writer's block because Marvel has been messing around with your portrayal and not giving out much information of how they've changed your character.  It was bugging me, so I took a nap, then woke up next to you."

"Who's this Marvel guy?  Do you think he knows where my wife is?"

He didn't know about the fourth wall, was definitely angry and all I could think of was that he looked just as angry now as he did in that leaked Thunderbolts* footage.

"Marvel's not a guy, it's a corporation that owns the copyright to your character."  I winced as I explained it to him, knowing he wasn't liking it.  "You're not real, Bucky.  You're a fictional character from the comics and the movies they made from it.  But you know this already.  I've spoken to you in your World War II persona, your Winter Soldier persona and from when you and Sam fought the Flag Smashers.  That's called your FATWS era."

I started to explain what the letters meant but he just glared at me, so I stopped.  He pulled away from the edge of the bed and got out on the other side, naked, and I did stare, I'll admit it.  God, he had a nice ass and the rest of him from the back was... wow.  Then he turned to face me, and I looked everywhere but there. 

"Get dressed," he ordered.  "You're taking me to this Marvel place and I'm going to get my wife back."

"It's not as easy as that," I replied.  He stared at me, his arms crossed defiantly in front of him while he was still showing everything the serum gave him.  I focused on his face, but it was so hard ... not that, you know what I mean.  "If this is a multiverse incursion then there might not be a Marvel in this universe and even if there was it wouldn't be possible to just walk in there.  We have to find Dr. Strange.  He's the only one who can do anything."

"Fine," he said, "but you're still coming with me.  Now get dressed."

Holding the sheet around me I approached the walk-in closet, but he was still standing there, naked, in all of his glory and he smelled so good when I slid past him to see what was available for me to wear.  Then he was right behind me, practically pressing himself into me and I had to focus, wondering if I had ever written this much raw physical sexuality into my versions of Bucky but it was difficult to concentrate with him so close. 

"You having problems, baby girl?" he asked, his lips so close to my ear that I could feel his warm breath making me moist. 

"I don't know what to wear," I mumbled, still painfully aware of his naked body this close to me and I was really only separated from him by a sheet. 

"We're going on the motorcycle," he said.  "Jeans, T-shirts, and leather jackets."

"Right," I answered, hastily going through the sexy dresses, the long gowns with the thigh-high slits, the almost obscene lingerie, but there were no jeans or T-shirts.  "Um, where are they?"

"In the drawers," he grunted.  "Don't you have drawers in your universe?"

"Yes," I snapped.  "Could you stand further away from me?"

"What's the matter, darlin'? Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"This close to me while naked, yes."  I rolled my eyes, which he must have heard because he huffed, but he did move away, and I was able to get out of that small space.

Quickly, I located the drawer that had jeans and pulled them on.  They were tighter than anything I ever wore but somehow, I got them on.  The bra selection left a lot to be desired as most of it was see through and really didn't offer much support.  I must have made a noise while I was searching for something more modest because he was suddenly beside me.

"Having a problem, sweetheart?  Don't see anything you like?  My wife loves all the lingerie I buy for her."

"It's not my style," I answered.  "Doesn't she have something that covers more?"

"Sports bra," he answered.  "Bottom drawer."

I pulled it open, thankful to find an assortment of sports bras.  Pulling one out I started to take the T-shirt off that I woke up in then became aware of his eyes on me.  Turning around I was startled to see him reclining on the bed, propped up on one elbow, fully clothed, with his booted feet hanging off the bed.

"Do you mind?"

"No, I don't mind at all," he smirked.  "Don't let me stop you.  I've seen it all anyways."

"But you're married.  Wouldn't watching me get dressed make your wife angry?"

He grinned in an almost wolfish manner.  "We have an understanding."

"What?  The Bucky's I write are monogamous.  Are you polyamorous?"

The grin became a broad smile as he looked me up and down.  "If the occasion arises.  Gotta say I'm curious to see if you have the same appetites as my doll."

"Out!"  I wasn't in the mood for this.  "Right now.  Go downstairs and get your motorcycle ready."

Slowly, he slid off the bed, then approached me, backing me up to the dresser, while looking at me in a way that gave me thrills at the same time as setting off all sorts of warning bells in my head.

"You sure, sunshine?"  His fingertips grasped a tendril of my hair, as he twirled it slightly.  "I could definitely make you ...."

"Out," I repeated.  "Please stop this."

He backed up, suddenly respectful of my space.  "Since you said the magic word, I'll wait downstairs for you."

Just like that, he was gone, and I quickly got the sports bra on, then a clean T-shirt.  I pulled on some socks and found some boots, sliding them on.  With a quick run through of my hair with my fingers I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, wondering what I had done to get into this predicament.

He was waiting on his motorcycle for me, with a helmet in hand.  As I stood there, he placed it on my head, adjusting the chin strap then nodding his head in approval, before putting his on.  I slid on behind him, grasping him at the waist.  His voice came over a Bluetooth speaker in the helmet.

"You okay, darlin'?  Have you ridden a motorcycle before?"

"I'm good.  My husband has one and I've ridden with him.  Where are we going?"

"The Sanctum Sanctorum," he said.  "Might as well go straight to Dr. Strange."

Suddenly, we were there, pulling up to an open parking spot in front of the headquarters of the Masters of the Mythical Arts in the middle of Greenwich Village.  This was definitely a unique universe, as we skipped over the long motorcycle ride from Brooklyn, then the frustration of finding any sort of parking.  Striding over to the door, Bucky rang the bell, and we were ushered in by an acolyte to where Dr. Strange was drinking a cup of tea and Wong was standing there wringing his hands.  Before we could even say anything the two men looked at me, then at each other, then at Bucky.

"Where did you find her?" asked Wong.

That wolfish grin briefly appeared again on Bucky's face.  "In my bed.  Says she's not my wife, so where is she?"

"That is a good question," said Strange, placing his teacup on the table and approaching me, assessing me in a way that was a little disturbing.  "Well, this explains a lot.  You're from the real world, aren't you?  Beyond the fourth wall."

"Yes, I guess.  I'm a fanfiction writer and was taking a nap.  When I woke up it was next to him."  I pointed at Bucky.  "The thing is, he's nothing like the Bucky Barnes character that I write about."

"What's different about him?" Strange's one eyebrow was higher than the other.  It was one thing seeing it in the movies but another thing seeing it in person.  "Is there a problem with my face?"

"No, no.  The biggest difference is that the Bucky's I write are monogamous and this one is polyamorous."

"And?  That's a problem?"

I became aware that I was in the middle of all three men, and they were looking at me as if I were lunch, served on a platter just for them.

"Stop!" I barked.  "Yeah, it's a problem, okay?  Is this a polyamorous universe?  Because I'm not!  I'm married to one man, and I want to go back to him.  Please, you must find a way to get me back to where I belong."

Wong backed away from me first.  "She's right.  Consent is still required in this universe.  Plus, with her being from beyond the fourth wall we could really hurt her.  She's actual flesh and blood ... we're fictional characters."

Dr. Strange backed away, returning to his cup of tea.  Bucky, well, he just sprawled on a couch as if he had always lived there.

"Tell me about what you were doing before you slept," said Strange.

I told him about the physical changes to Bucky's appearance based on the leaked preview of Thunderbolts* and how the fandom was worrying about his portrayal, and the fact that after a six part series of him and Sam becoming friends Marvel just casually split them apart into two different movies as if the other didn't even exist. 

"You care about him," said Strange, his voice neutral.  "You want him to be happy."

"Well, yeah," I replied.  "The man lost everything that mattered to him and was tortured for 70 years, experimented on, and forced to become a killer for a gang of authoritarian thugs.  My thing, my contribution to fanfiction is that Bucky gets a happy ending."

"Sweetheart, I have that," said the super soldier, from where he sat on the couch.  "I admit that I am fucked up, but my wife makes me happy and her interest in our extramarital activities is the same as mine.  Yet, you treat me like I'm some sort of deviant."

"No, it's not that."  I sighed.  "Other writers see you in this way and that's fine; that's their thing and lots of people read them and enjoy them but I guess I just like you better when you're monogamous, kind and gentle.  To someone like me, this version of you is a bit scary and overwhelming."

"That's fair," he murmured.  "You look like my wife.  Does your husband look like me?"

"No, not at all," I smiled.  "He's shorter, balding, not as fit.  But he loves me and he's faithful, kind, and gentle.  He beta reads my stories, and I even wrote a Black Widow smut piece just for him.  I think he imagines me as his Black Widow sometimes."

Bucky grinned, then nodded his head approvingly. 

"Do they break the fourth wall in this Thunderbolts* movie?" asked Wong.

"I don't know.  It hasn't come out yet and there's been very few previews of it.  I think the only Marvel character that breaks the fourth wall is Deadpool.  His movie with Wolverine just came out recently and is making a ton of money."

Both Dr. Strange and Wong perked up.  "Deadpool?  As in Wade Wilson?"

I nodded.  "Yeah, he's fully aware in the movies and comic books that he's fictional.  He often breaks the fourth wall."

My voice tapered off.  Was I here because of Deadpool?

"Sunshine, have you seen the movie?" Bucky was also sitting upright.

I nodded my head.  "My husband and I went to see the matinee just a few days ago."

A green glow emanated from the time stone as Dr. Strange went to wherever he went when he activated it.  Wong watched him carefully as did Bucky.  Then the Supreme Sorcerer stopped his permutations and gazed at me.

"The Time Variance Authority are in this movie," he stated.  "I have a feeling they're involved in this.  But why they would take someone from the real world and place them here is a mystery to me."

Suddenly a TVA portal opened in front of us, and B-15 walked out followed by me, at least a version of me, wearing only a T-shirt and panties.  Bucky jumped up from the couch.

"Doll? Is it you?"

"Oh Daddy, I was so afraid," she cried, as he wrapped his arms around her.  "I woke up in a cell and didn't know how I got there, and ...."  She noticed me.  "She's me."

"I'm sorry," said B-15, looking at me.  "A terrible mistake was made.  Beyond the fourth wall is usually forbidden to our hunters but when you went to see the Deadpool movie your presence was noticed in the theatre with your Bucky variant."

"Wait, my husband is a Bucky variant?"

The leader of the TVA smiled.  "Well, yes.  It's why you write Bucky Barnes fanfiction.  You see him as Bucky and yourself as the original female character.  You don't have to look alike to be a variant.  It's just that you're kind of the model for the OFC in your own universe where you draw your inspiration from.  It's supposed to be a private universe and off limits to the TVA.  Unfortunately, one of our hunters didn't understand that.  He removed Mrs. Barnes here as an illegal variant and installed you as the original in this universe.  He has been sent for judgement and won't be in a position to do that again.  We are also making sure all of our hunters are aware that the Bucky Barnes fanfiction that you write and read in your own private universe is just that, private, at least to us."

"So how do we get this Mrs. Barnes back to her universe beyond the fourth wall?" asked Dr. Strange.  "I have the feeling it's beyond my capabilities."

B-15 smiled at him.  "It is but not beyond mine.  As soon as she's ready to go I'll open a portal back to her universe."

It sounded simple and like many movies, a little bit of a quick fix, but I wanted to go back so I wasn't going to question it.  Wong smiled at me.

"Good luck on the next one shot," he said.

I nodded at him, then Dr. Strange looked at me in that superior way he sometimes had.  "I knew there would be a logical solution."

"Right."

Bucky was next, his wife already wearing his leather jacket.

"Oh, this is yours," I said, starting to take the one I had off. 

"Keep it sweetheart, as a souvenir," he smirked.  "Say hi to your husband for me.  Tell me something.  The lady there said something about the fiction you read.  Does that mean you do read the polyamorous stuff, since you ended up in my bed?"

I sighed as I hated being put in a position of agreeing.  "Every so often one captures my eye," I admitted.  "Doesn't mean it's something I'm interested in trying."

"If you say so."  He glanced at his wife with affection.  "You came through for me.  I appreciate it."

I looked at B-15.  "I'm ready."

She nodded at the others, then punched a few buttons on her TemPad.  A portal opened and I walked through it, then felt the touch of my husband's hand on my shoulder as I was still on top of the bed.

"Honey?  Wake up."

I sat up, saw my husband, and felt a rush of affection for him.

"Sorry, I took a nap, and I guess I was more tired than what I thought."

"No worries," he smiled.  "Um, did you go shopping today?  Is that a new jacket and jeans and boots?"

I was still in the other Mrs. Barnes' clothing.

"Yes?" I answered, tentatively.

He smiled and nodded his head appreciatively.  "I like them.  Makes you look hot.  You should wear stuff like that more often."  Offering me his hand, he helped me up.  "What do you think of taking a ride on the bike and going to a diner for dinner?  My treat."

"Sounds like a plan," I answered.  "Just let me freshen up a little."

When I got outside my husband was already waiting on his Vespa.  I know what you're thinking ... a Vespa is not a motorcycle.  Maybe not in the traditional sense but it is what we have and it's a lot of fun.  I still get to wrap my arms around my husband's waist and maybe he doesn't have a hard body like Bucky Barnes, but he's all mine and I don't have to share him with anyone.  Besides, now that I know he's a Bucky variant I understand how he knows what I like between the sheets, if you get what I mean.  When I do write smut, I'm writing about my Bucky, the one I live with in this universe, beyond the fourth wall.

One Shots Masterlist

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Title: just a job

Type of work (art/fic/etc): Fic

Pairings/Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Sam Wilson, OMC

Rating: E

Giftee: Duchess_On_Fire

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, D/S

Summary: 

Steve slumps into the kitchen, throws open the pantry and frowns at the slim pickings. He pulls his phone out of his bathrobe pocket and checks his bank balance as if somehow it’ll be different than it was last night.

$4.25 looks back at him, mockingly, and he scoffs in disgust as he pockets his phone again.

Read it here!