#Bucky being Boy!Faith again.

[rambleonwaywardson]

I didn’t expect the delicious morsel of your space boys today 😭 Bucky you sweet dork making Gale roll his eyes and blush omg I adore them so much! It really is 10/10 💖

I do have a question, that might be addressed in the epilogue maybe? But I gotta ask it now because I can’t stop thinking about your boys. I feel that they are already suffering from PTSD but I was thinking about going into space, would John actually be able to go through it again? Would Gale be able to do it? And I know Bucky laughed it off with that reporter but would he really be able to watch Gale go to the moon without panicking?

Hi hello. I’ve been thinking about this ask for days thank you (legitimately). Long response incoming.

I don’t expect this will be addressed much in the epilogue based on the timeline I’m planning. However, if I get my shit together and do what I want to do to extend this universe, it’ll come up eventually!

You’re right, this experience was very traumatic. I would not say they’re already suffering from PTSD in a clinical sense, but they are currently struggling to work through what happened and what is still very much happening, and there is of course a lot of room for PTSD to more fully develop. So how does that affect their future careers?

In terms of Artemis 4, I don’t think Gale will have too much mental/emotional difficulty. As they say, they know the risks. Yes, this was extremely traumatic, and it’s hard to work through in many ways, but as Bucky says in chapter 19, the thing that went wrong was small, a freak accident, wrong place wrong time. There are about a million risks like that on every space mission that they train for and anticipate but try not to fear. This is what John and Gale were metaphorically bred for, and even though it may be more difficult mentally than before, this is who they are. They’re not giving it up, and I’ll be damned if I don’t give Gale a good mission 🥺

(Also, they WILL be undergoing extensive counseling leading up to A4 trust me!!!)

I think Bucky, ultimately, will have more difficulty during Artemis 4 than Gale will. As you kind of implied, he’s now in the place of worrying about his husband from the ground, unable to intervene should something go wrong. That will likely be very difficult for him no matter how much faith he puts in his husband… (more on that, potentially, eventually…)

As for another mission for Bucky. Ugh. That’s harder to think about. It is highly unlikely that, even at peak physical and mental health, he would be selected for an additional moon mission any time in the near future (though never say never I suppose?). He fully believes that he wants to go back, that he could handle going back, but psychologically, that may be in part because he doesn’t think he ever will actually get to. He lived his dream. Before it went to hell, it was everything he wanted it to be. Let him romanticize that.

That being said, he’s still a professional astronaut. It’s what he loves to do.

I think there is at least a chance he could go back to the station after a lot of healing and therapy. The ISS is very different from Artemis in so many ways, beginning with the fact that it’s far more predictable and ending with the fact that it only takes a few hours to get back to Earth from there. Bucky’s spent quite a lot of time up there before. It’s something he knows, is familiar with, is good at. I think, mentally, that would be a very different experience from being on the moon, and it would remain a possibility for his future.

Okay. I’ve put a lot of thought into this. I’ll continue to put a lot of thought into this. And you can probably tell that I’m working through what I believe would be realistic not only for Buck and Bucky, but for modern, more emotionally regulated versions of them. And what I think is reasonable for addressing their emotional struggle while also maintaining the careers they love.

It’s not an easy problem to solve, and there’s a lot of ways it could go. Thank you so much for giving me this space to think about it ❤️

[forasecondtherewedwon]

dear john

Fandom: Masters of the Air Pairing: Gale "Buck" Cleven/John "Bucky" Egan Rating: E Word Count: 2354

Summary: The Regensburg-Schweinfurt mission changes John. What Gale can't say aloud, he puts in the letters he writes to John in his head.

John had grown further from himself since the last plane, Gale’s plane, had touched down in Algeria. Gale had watched it: the relief that became a just-perceptible, sleepless despair. Eleven planes left, and John’s emotions shifted like the hot sand on which they’d landed. Some of the guys watched the sky for a long while. Not John. He sat and stared at the horizon, a hard look on his face as he squinted tightly against the sun.

They had all been changed by the mission, of course. The survivor count was sobering. The destination, painted as a paradise when they were in England, was no victory party. Their quiet celebration was a cup of warm water in the shade of a battered bomber. And this was enough. It seemed more than enough to be alive.

Gale sweat like the rest, was exhausted like the rest, had stripped his upper body free of clothes but had not yet resorted to shucking his pants, as many had. He wasn’t sure if it was being a major that stopped him or the anticipated horror of having to get dressed again after making himself just a smidge cooler. There was also John, who was always near. Gale wanted to seem, for John, as though he were keeping himself together.

John had taken to sitting not beside Gale but slightly ahead of him, making of them a pair of birds in migratory V-formation.

Even though it put him partly in the punishing sun, Gale laid down. The sound of the boys speaking aloud the letters they were writing home came to him as a murmur over the ground. He shut his eyes and listened as they strove to explain Africa, the sky, and even bigger things than those. The sacred place inside themselves where they kept safe the gentleness that having someone to write to made worth preserving when it was so damn hot and their bodies were weary and the promised lobster had failed to materialize.

Gale opened his eyes and peered at John. What he saw: the limp undershirt, the silver chains cutting across the sunburnt nape of his neck, the bowed bulk of his body as he slouched his elbows over his bent-up knees. He exhaled heavily through his nose.

Dear Susan,

Dear Ma,

Dear Jackie,

Dear Cassandra,

Dear John, Gale thought, pillowing his head on his arm. I do not know what it was to wait and hope that you would land, but I believe that you waited and hoped for me. Now you guard me like an animal—I am your last, your best, when too many others have gone.

You know I do not have much faith in the traditional sense. Instead, you have been the totem of my convictions. I know that you are good, and that you exist, and that is sufficient. I do not need much, unless you are offering. Thank you again for my bicycle.

Please be there when I land, always, always. I need to feel that I am pointing the plane towards some sort of home.

John shifted and his dog tags clinked together as he looked back at Gale over his shoulder.

—

The party made Gale aware how different he was from the rest of the men, with respect to John. And, man, there was so much he did assess that way: with respect to John. He’d assumed that John was universally irresistible. Gale himself couldn’t claim a personality prone to hero-worship or puppy-dog devotion, and yet the choice to be with John or not to be wasn’t a choice he thought he’d ever take seriously. Surely everyone felt the same. John was loyal, lovably wayward, endlessly entertaining.

After he’d taken things, admittedly, a few steps beyond what was either appropriate or sane by calling Colonel Harding “flak-happy,” Gale’d expected the boys to rally ’round. There would be those who didn’t understand, Gale had thought, believing they’d witnessed some sort of nervy prank, but most would see, as Gale did, that John needed something. Needing something—there, then—meant needing each other. There was little else.

But the boys had scattered, leaving Gale to make the suggestion of a weekend leave from the base. When John invited him along to London, Gale had another terrible realization: it was the first time he wanted to get away from, not with, his best friend. He wanted to help him, yes, but the on-edge, provocative John who stood beside him at the bar was not a John who would lift the latch on the gate of his emotions to permit Gale entry. He saw John’s weekend unfolding, and it was destructive if he accompanied him. An audience would only hurt John, Gale thought.

He felt cowardly as he escaped as Meatball’s dance partner, but he was afraid that John might insist about London, that he might hear him plead. He was afraid that John hadn’t meant it, merely extending the invitation so Gale’s initial suggestion seemed to have always been intended as a plan for two, not Gale telling him he needed a break because his attitude was growing dangerous. Perhaps for himself most of all.

Dear John, Gale thought, when he’d crossed the dance floor, released Meatball, and watched John skulk from the hall. Let me tell you here that I miss you, where you cannot interrupt. A stranger has been coming and going from your body. I do not know if he is trespassing through a window, swinging in the wind of what you probably think is a private storm, or you are greeting him at the front door and he is only a stranger to me.

Do not be hurt by my refusal to go to London. Remember that you are also making the choice to go when you know I will stay here, watching our men, guiding them. It will be strange to greet them without hearing “Major” twice in short succession.

I will think of you often while you are absent. This is true already, when you have only just left the room. Come back and dance with me. At least ask me, and smile when I say no.

Gale stepped out into the quiet dark, leaving all sound behind him. He remembered the last night of revelry cut short by the bombing of Norwich. He thought of Curt and felt a tension in his chest. He walked on.

John hadn’t gone far; he was barely away from the mess hall, kicking his feet through the dampening grass. Gale could tell John knew he was there, but there was nothing more for them to say to one another that night. That was sometimes how it was.

—

Gale guessed the woman had meant something to John because he wouldn’t share her name. The boys got out of him that she’d been beautiful (though Gale doubted John would have said any different, picked anybody different), and had kept John company in his hotel rather than seeking shelter when bombs had begun to fall on London. They teased John about protecting her. He got a sly smile on his face then, and when he told them this woman coulda taken care of herself, they all ooooohed with gusto. She sounded like quite a woman. Blonde, John’d said. Real good-lookin’. There was a mirror in their quarters that Gale avoided that day. He knew what he’d see in his reflection.

There had been another mission, called off at the last minute. The boys had been in the planes and everything, waiting to taxi, when the order came down. Bad timing. Somebody was a little gun-shy after everything’d gone to hell the last time. Gale knew they weren’t special; there just weren’t that many of them left.

John had missed the whole thing. He’d come back feeling superior, having not been left out of an opportunity for valour and having intimately enjoyed the heated touch of another human being within the previous 36 hours. The latter was enough to make him a man of singular admiration on the base. When he would only surrender so much after the boys begged for details, things went back to how they’d been. Gale felt the memory of the woman hanging between John and himself, but not as an obstacle, only as a card drawn and then shuffled back into the deck of John’s experience. Gale watched John tuck her away, and he reached out—with conversation, with brief anecdotes of the base over the weekend—feeling the same softened edges of the deck that were always there. John threw an arm around Gale’s shoulders during breakfast, made some little joke, leaned forward to catch the grin Gale tried to hide in his cup of coffee.

Dear John, Gale thought, as they strolled over to the sleeping quarters. There was a book John wanted to show him, something he’d bought in London. You are not a new man after your leave. I did not want you to be.

When we were alone, you told me more about the bombing. What had gone on as the bombs fell you kept in your hints for the boys. To me, you spoke of what happened after. I see it as you described it: cars on the wrong side of the road, red telephone booths, and drifting conversations in the British accents that are still a novelty to us, surrounded mostly by our own countrymen and -women. I see the body of the child lifted from the rubble of what had been a home, and I hear the woman—the mother, you presumed, and so do I—screaming in the street.

So, John. A leave bracketed by the arms of one woman and the screams of another. We cannot shed the war. Not when it is under our skin, not when the enemy makes an uninvited appearance on our weekend holidays. I held you in my mind every minute that you were not here. Take that any way you will.

Gale couldn’t tell if the book had been only an excuse to get away from the others, but he turned it over intently, watched by John, who had his hands perched on his hips. He started talking about the bookstore, stuff in heaps, impossible to find anything. Gale passed the book back and ran a finger along his top lip.

“How was it really?” he asked, because John spoke in moments and vignettes, failing to give an impression of the leave as a whole.

“I was wishin’ you were there,” John said, shrugging and heading for the door. Gale followed.

“And when you were with your Polish widow?” he asked John’s back.

“Like I said.” John paused before the threshold. “I was wishin’ you were there.”

He turned. His eyes burned into Gale’s, but they were also wet.

Although Gale cleared his throat, his voice came out gruff: “I’m here now.”

“Yeah,” John agreed, nodding. “Yeah, you are.”

Gale saw his jaw clench and reached out, yanking the length of John’s tie from between the buttons of his shirt.

When they kissed, hard and standing just to the right of the doorway, Gale thought how much there was that couldn’t be put in a letter. He felt John’s tongue thick in his mouth, almost gagging him, and gripped the back of John’s head to pull him in deeper. They wouldn’t let each other breathe, and then John’s hand was closed in a fist around Gale’s belt. Be reckless here, with me, Gale urged him in his mind. He dug his blunt nails into John’s scalp.

He allowed John to push his back against the wall. There was little room between them, but enough—after Gale unbuckled the belt and John unbuttoned the pants, their hands working over and under one another’s—for John to sink his hand down the front of Gale’s shorts. With John’s intense stare on him, Gale turned his head to watch the door. In the corner of his eye, he could see John’s lips parting, silently mirroring Gale’s low groans.

John pumped him roughly, then unexpectedly slowed, adjusting his fingers. Gale panted and shuddered. He took hold of John’s tie again and drew him in. Turning to face him meant leaving the door unguarded, but he did it, he did it so they could be so close that he felt the feather of John’s eyelashes on his cheek after they kissed and John hung his head, watching the shifting bulge that was his hand wringing pleasure from Gale.

Gale slid his own hand down John’s body. He caressed the buttons John had fastened when he’d dressed that morning, the neat tuck of his shirt into his pants. He settled his hand lower, on John’s inner thigh, and John grunted. He was as hard as Gale was and Gale wasn’t touching him. Gale felt John’s hot, impatient breath against his temple. He tipped his mouth to John’s throat, let his lips skim.

“Dear John,” he sighed across thin skin.

His hand dragged up and clutched John’s cock through his pants. He’d never heard John like this before. He wanted those sounds inside him, so he kissed John’s mouth again, urging him to spill it all into him. The sounds, the broken, two-part thing his name became in John’s mouth when he wrapped an arm around John’s waist and forced their hips together. It was sloppy and crude, John’s hand trapped in the middle. They ground into one another, John’s body pinning Gale’s to the wall from thighs to shoulders. The friction was harsh. Panting, John bit Gale’s cheekbone, and Gale came. Shorts damp, cock too sensitive, still Gale held John tighter as he kept thrusting against him, rubbing at him, finally finishing with a choked gasp Gale figured would make it difficult for him to get to sleep tonight. Most nights, for a long while.

It hadn’t been more than five minutes. It might not’ve been two.

“I sent you a postcard from London, by the way,” John muttered.

Gale grabbed John’s tie, threaded it back into his shirt.

“Oh yeah? How’s it start?”

[saratinz]

Fine China

pairing ➩ Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Natasha x Sam (Modern AU)

warnings ➩ depression, addiction, alcohol, pills, angst, sad ending, cheating

synopsis ➩ Based off 'Fine China' by Lana Del Rey

word count ➩ 1.9k

You stare at the white dress you once loved so dearly. “Yeah, of course you can have it, Natasha.” 

“I’m so sorry this happened to you again. I know what I’m asking is insensitive, but this, it really means a lot.” 

“It’s okay, Nat. You’re going to look stunning. I’ve been left on my wedding day, twice, think I have a problem, and until I figure that out, I can’t be anywhere near this shit.”

“Thank you so much. God I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m so happy for you.” 

“I know this is asking a lot, but will you be my maid of honor?”

“I’d love to.” You put on your best fake smile. But as soon as she leaves, you slide down your wall, screaming to numb the pain you’ve been through in 

Four years ago

I wore diamonds for the birth of your baby

For the birth of your son

Steve Rogers always wanted a child, just his fatherly nature I guess. His ex-wife, Margaret, has always been a third in your relationship. You get the call while getting your makeup and hair done, quickly getting off your chair to drive to the hospital. You were shocked that this baby is coming out, considering it a month before his due date. Peggy manages to look gorgeous even while going through one of the most painful things known to man. “Hey sweetheart, can we talk in private for a second?” Steve pulls you into the hall.

“Oh, of course.” 

On the same day, my husband-to-be

Packed his things to run

“I’m so sorry , Y/n, my family is the most important thing to me right now.”

“I thought I was your family.”

“I love them.”

“I know that but do you really, y’know, love her that way?”

“I do.”

“You were supposed to say that to me.” You half-heartedly chuckle.

“Can you not joke right now.”

“Fuck you Steve. I gave up everything for you, I listened to you, I stayed with you after you cheated on me and impregnated Peggy, I was even gonna raise a child with you at 25.”

Was bittersweet to say the least

One life begins, one comes undone

You drive away from the hospital, speeding home to drink copious amounts of alcohol.

I've always been a strong woman of faith

Strong like a tree, but the unlucky one

You haven’t cried in years. When you went through your first break-up, you vowed never to cry over a boy again. And you didn’t. But right now, in this situation, you figure that it constitutes a few tears.

I'm going down now

With all of my

You feel broken. After suppressing every painful event in your life for nine years, you finally express your emotions. It’s a rough night, and all you could do was cry until you couldn’t anymore.

Fine china and fresh linen

All of my dresses with them tags still on them

You get a storage unit, and keep everything from your wedding that never happened, hoping that one day, you would get to use it for real.

Fine china and dull silver

My white horses and my ivory almonds

“You’re a beautiful girl, sure you want to mess with this stuff.”

“Give me the goddamn pills, Luke.”

I guess they really got the best of us, didn't they?

They said that love was enough, but it wasn’t

You think of the time you almost broke up with Steve. It was when Peggy found out she was pregnant, but the two of you had been together for a year, meaning that he cheated without a doubt. Your friends tried to help, but the best they could muster was a question. “Do you love him?”

“I do, yeah.”

“Then maybe that’s your answer.”

The Earth shattered, the sky opened 

The rain was fire, but we were wooden

All hell broke loose, as all of your friends found out Steve left you. Some of them were understanding, some of them dropped him immediately. One of those being Bucky Barnes, who was the only person who didn’t talk to you like you could break at any moment. And over the next year, you fell in love, the next year you got engaged. And now, three years after Steve broke your heart, you find yourself getting ready to be wed. You can’t believe you’re finally going to live your dream. 

I wore diamonds for the day of our wedding

For our day in the sun

You felt beautiful in your dress. “Y/n . We need to talk.”

“Buck, you’re not supposed to see me, it’s like, bad luck or whatever.” You let out a little laugh. You were never the superstitious type.

On the same day, my mother-to-be said she wouldn't come

“My mom, she’s not coming.”

“Oh god, is she sick or something. It would be a little tricky, but we could figure out rescheduling.”

“No, she’s just refusing to come.”

“I thought your mom liked me. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s not you, it’s just, I told her about your little pill problem.”

“What are you talking about”

“Don’t play dumb, I know you’re not on anti-depressants like you say. I may not be a doctor but I have Google.”

It's always been that way with me

No time for change, no time for fun

“Okay I’m sorry for lying, but what gave you the right to rifle through my stuff, and then talk to your mom  instead of me about it?”

“I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what? Wait, you’re not talking about, no, what the fuck James? No, this, it can’t be happening again.”

It's always been that way, it seems

One love begins, one comes undone

“I’m so sorry, Y/n, I can’t do this anymore.  I can’t sit back and watch as you kill yourself.”

“Oh my god, so you’re leaving me because I like to relax.”

“It’s not just pills you’re addicted to, you’re addicted to me.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re like a leach, sucking the life force out of me. You’re never satisfied.”

“I didn’t want you to leave like Steve did.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I do.”

“I’m never gonna hear you say those words, am I?”

“I don’t know, Y/n, maybe one day.”

I'm going down now

With all of my

“So, I’ll do whatever I have to, I wanna be with you, I’ll get help. I’ll go to therapy, I’ll do whatever it takes, just please. Please.”

“I love you, Y/n, I always will.”

Fine china and fresh linen

All of my dresses with them tags still on them

Back to your storage unit, everything goes. You really thought this was it. You’re a fucking idiot.

Fine china and dull silver

My white horses and my ivory almonds

You try to get clean, and you manage to stay that way for three months. But one day, when you couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky and your sponsor was on vacation, you take a little trip to your favorite dealer. “Hey, haven’t seen you in awhile. You getting sober or something?”

“Went to rehab, stayed off drugs for a guy. I’m just gonna ruin my chance with him, I guess.”

“You sure you wanna do that?”

“Fuck him, I need to think about me.”

I guess they really got the best of us, didn't they?

They said that love was enough, but it wasn’t

“I’m using again Bucky, and I’m not gonna stop.”

“Please don’t do this.”

The Earth shattered, the sky opened

The rain was fire, but we were wooden

“I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, me too.”

Present day

All of my, all of my fine china

After five drinks and two pills, you get up on the little stage area that was set up.

All of my, all of my fine china

“Hey guys, as the maid of honor, I would like to say congratulations to my best friend and her wonderful new husband, Sam. But oh my god, if I hear anyone compliment the table cloth, dishes, decor, or god forbid the dress, I’m going to scream.”

All of my, all of my fine china

“Funny story actually, this was all supposed to be for my wedding. Bucky, where are you? Oh there he is. Handsome, right? Kind of an asshole but if you’re looking for a hook up, I highly recommend. He’s my ex who left me on our wedding day, so, yikes.”

Blue, ah, blue

“She stole my whole wedding. Hell she even stole the lingerie I was planning on wearing for my wedding night. So none of this planning is hers is what I’m trying to say. Guess I could be a fucking wedding planner or something. Ha, wouldn’t that be ironic, the girl who can’t seem to get married helping other people live her dream.”

All of my, all of my fine china

Natasha looks furious. But she didn’t want to stop you. She had done something pretty fucked up too, and even though you said you were okay, she knew you. She knew the pain you were going through. Not from experience though, only listening. She could never fully comprehend the damage done.

All of my, all of my fine china

You continue to embarrass yourself, but you’re too cross-faded to care.

Blue, ah

“Is anyone else still thinking about how weird it is that she’s wearing my underwear? I mean, I never wore them but it still seems a bit strange. Here’s a little secret, that’s her something blue.”

Fine china and fresh linen

All of my dresses with them tags still on them

The next morning, you wake with the worst hangover of your life. Oh shit, you ruined Nat’s wedding. As if things couldn’t get any worse, you’re not even in your apartment. Where the fuck are you?

Fine china and dull silver

My white horses and my ivory almonds

“Hey sleepyhead.” 

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“What the fuck happened last night?”

“You don’t remember? We had sex.”

“Oh god, what about Peggy?”

“She’s a bitch, I never should have left you.”

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.”

“What’s wrong baby?”

“You’re a terrible person. I need to go.” You scurry out of that hell-scape, cursing your drunk self.

I guess they really got the best of us, didn't they?

They said that love was enough, but it wasn’t

“I’d like to check into rehab again.” 

“That’s good Y/n.”

“I have one question, though.”

“What is it?”

“You were never gonna get back together with me, right? I mean it was pretty good incentive, but you were never serious.”

“No, we still have a chance.”

“Cut the shit Bucky. You don’t have to lie to me, just stop playing with my emotions.”

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Goodbye James.”

The Earth shattered, the sky opened

The rain was fire, but we were wooden

“Here you go. Everything you asked for is there.” Nat gives you boxes upon boxes of your wedding stuff back. 

Fine china, fine china, fine china

You break every plate, cup, and bowl.

Fresh linen, fresh linen, fresh linen

You burn every table cloth, napkin, and the dress you now hate with your whole heart.

Maybe one day you’ll get married, but you needed this stuff gone, and you needed to never think about it again. So far all you’ve gotten out of your engagements was depression, addiction, and some shards of fine china.

Masterlist / Spinoff series

[scoonsalicious]

Mother pookie🩷🩷🩷 ur kitties has risen. My initial plan was to comment on chp 3.3 but I feel like it’s gonna be long😂

To start off, first, even if it’s only one part, it’s amazing! A lot of interesting point for future theories, interpretations and ofc we got to see more on Buckybaby and deLulu so called ‘friend’ship. I gotta say whatever it is that Lenovo did to befriend him is magic because he puts up with her shit 😂 because from the looks of it, Leah did it all the time (when she’s being rude). Just like Bucky said, ‘why do you gotta think everyone is flirting me?’

I actually didn’t get the flirting vibe there, Mya and Buckybaby were just being friendly but clearly deLulu as the name itself sees it differently because hey! Bucky you can’t be friendly with someone else, only me or i’ll throw a tantrum because you make me feel invincible while I was there for you all the time. Anyways poor Mya. Didn’t deserve that. Lenovo needs therapy

Going on next, surprisingly I’m not frustrated when Bucky didn’t tell her the ‘truth’ because first, I have ridonkulous faith on him and second, I think it’s normal bcs I would’ve done the same. It’s either bcs I’m lazy for confrontation, didn’t wanna talk about it or i just don’t know how to tell them properly without it making a scene or hurt their feelings so my best way is to just shut up and agree. Besides, Bucky still cares for deLulu as his ‘bestfriend’ AND also bcs deep down he knows how she will react. If it were me, I would be tongue tied too and just agree with whatever it is that would not spark a fire. Plus, Buckybaby and Major are not a thing yet, it will be a different story if they are.

Now, who the fuck Lenovo think she is calling Major bitch. You are the bitch. Too fucking delusional. TOUCH GRASS. Thank God Bucky called her out. But the ending to their talk? Oh boy, she’s going to change herself into a girly girly gurl. If Bucky told her that he loves worm, she would transform herself into one because and I quote ‘Whatever that makes you happy, Jamie’ — ugh. The things we do for love (in this case, obsession and delusion)

Man, I would love to know how deLulu befriended Bucky. Like for real. What and how?! She literally forced herself into his life but there’s gotta be something she did that made Bucky really really accept her as his ‘best’ friend. One thing for a fact, he had a soft spot for her because again and I cannot stress this enough, she’s his bestfriend, his best girl. In his POV, Lenovo is equivalent to Steve and Sam. That’s something we as readers don’t see eye to eye.

Okay, done with interpretation, going on to future theories. I see there. I see that little star in the masterlist. Major and Bucky are going down dirty lane again and Major, you better suck his soul until he realises how differently Lenovo looks at him. I’m curious though, it’s just that I don’t know how crazy deLulu would be😂 Can mother pookie rate? per 10, Cunthage broke the meter ofc but what about Lenovo?

I don’t think, Bucky would break his friendship with deLulu though, unless if she did do something like crazy crazy. However, Lenovo would, like ‘It’s me, your best-friend or that skank’ kinda thing. After that she’ll throw a tantrum and suddenly had an epiphany which is to make Bucky jealous that backfires because, Bucky is sooooo happy with Major and she starts getting even more cray-cray and plots for Major demise like burning her WarZone or framing that Bucky is cheating on her or the opposite. Since Lenovo is SHIELD, she must have access to the system and use it to gain info about Major. Maybe she’ll contact her ex-husband and shit. But, it will end with either deLulu getting fired from SHIELD, or y’know, somehow she did get therapy and become better?😂 Idk, we have to wait for Mother Pookie’s great mastermind.

Thinking makes me hungry and now I am hungry. So lastly as usual, I love you mother pookie🩷🩷🩷 Aggressive kitten smooches and some cutie Buckybaby gif to make your day!!!

Hi Pookie! <3

Lemme start out by saying that Mya was totally flirting with BuckyBaby, lol. I mean, who wouldn't? Have you seen him?

I mean... come on!

Granted, she wasn't being obvious, which is why BuckyBB had no clue, but deLulu could see it because she is SUPER tuned in to any attention he receives from the opposite sex. Bucky wasn't flirting with Mya, though-- just being a genuinely nice guy and possibly oblivious now that he met Major and can only think about her <3

And you're absolute right about why Bucky didn't tell Lenovo about dating Major. First off, he's nervous-- he literally just met her the night before, so it's brand-spanking new, and he is afraid to make a big thing of it in case it fails; he doesn't want to jinx it, because he really likes her. He knows he's probably moving fast, emotionally, like Steve said, so he's playing it close to the chest until he really has something to tell her. Second, from past experiences, he *knows* how Lenovo will react. They'll have a discussion about it in Chapter Six, but he basically doesn't want her to insert her opinion before he can fully form one of his own.

And yes, absolutely, if Bucky said "I would love you if you were a worm," Lenovo would become a worm. And gladly.

I do want to explore how she and Bucky became bestfriends. Truth of the matter is, I don't know yet! lol

And yes, please expect many chapters with (*) warnings, because these two (Bucky and Major) are rabid for one another, lol. A little spoiler: the next * scene involves one of Tony's sportscars ;) I have not yet written a scene where Major sucks Bucky's soul out through his dick, but I will!

Crazy-scale. Hmmm. It's hard to say, because I would rate Cunthage on as a 20 on a scale of 1-10, lol. Lily's not that bad, thank fuck. She's maybe starting at a 4 but will escalate to an 8 as she becomes more desperate? Like, Cunthage was Villain-Level Crazy; Lily's just like... Regular-Person-Level Crazy?

I can't speak yet to what she's going to do to manifest the crazy. I have many, many ideas and the basic plot outlined, but I haven't written her shenanigans yet! So, you'll have to wait and see!

As always, I love you, Pookie! I hope you're having a great day <3

[x-authorship-x]

Now I'm curious though, after anon's crossover ships list I wanna ask: what are YOURS crossover Shisui ships?

Hmmm I have quite the collection but let's just go with a handful that I actively think about (update: I got carried away as per usual)

Shisui/Fili (The Hobbit) Listen. Listen. I adore Fili, the Golden Prince, okay. He has too many knives (never too many) hidden in implausible places, he loves his brother more than even seeing the kingdom he could inherit, he has the BIGGEST baby blues on a grown man (dwarf). Idk how this happens, if Shisui is a reborn as a dwarf who can fucking breathe fire and shit, or if he's a man with these crazy powers or WHAT but it's gotta happen. Can you fucking imagine Susanoo versus Smaug??? EXACTLY. Fili is mischievous but responsible, he is devoted to his younger brother and to his duty, he's skilled and handsome and sweet and he absolutely should've lived and IF THIS ISNT RINGING BELLS FOR SHISUI IDK WHAT TO TELL YA Shisui Dragonslayer (or does he Mangekyou Smaug and get a pet dragon? Even fucking better) is Fili's crown husband I SAID WHAT I SAID

Shisui/Legolas (LotR): Shisui and Legolas jumping around trees and being painfully pretty whilst on an endless hunt? Sign me the FUCK UP

Shisui/Aragorn (LotR) can you see where this is going lol I'm not saying that Aragorn meets Shisui in the wild and they grow close because they're sensitive dark poetry boys with the weight of the world on their shoulders and Aragorn is crowned king and Shisui swears as his knight/court wizard and Aragorn accepts his oaths and holds his chin so tenderly and-

Shisui/Arwen (LotR) OKAY BUT LISTEN I MENTIONED THIS OFF HAND IN THE RED ALLY FIC AND THEN IT DUG IT'S CLAWS IN AND JUST IMAGINE THAT SHISUI IS A BLIND ISTARI AND ARWEN GLOWS WITH SO MUCH LIGHT IN HER SOUL THAT SHISUI CAN ALWAYS FIND HER 🥹 AND THEY RAISE ARAGORN TOGETHER LIKE HEY THATS MY DAD *BADASS BLIND ISTARI* AND MY MUM *THE EVENSTAR ABOUT TO GARROTE THE RING WRAITHS* AND EVERYONE IS LIKE WTF AND THEN SHISUI AND ARWEN ARE SO GENTLY SPOKEN AND CARING AND EVERYONE IS LIKE DAMN ARAGORN IS DEFFO THEIR SON THE KING IS HALF ELF AND HALF WIZARD AND ALL BABE

Shisui/Loki (MCU): we've been here before, run through my Loki tags

Shisui/Peter Parker (MCU): we've touched on this but just... The fluff, being badass and gravity defying and Peter needs more same age allies and also IMAGINE shisui being shown how to actually be a teenager

Thor/Shisui (MCU); see one of my Loki tagged posts about personalities BUT CMON Thor 'i committed atrocities and regret them' meeting Uchiha 'immoral-eyes' Shisui, they are both earnest and slightly misguided and also Loki wouldn't hate him and shisui would blend well with Thor's more straightforward personality, also they could both wear red like nice husbands

Shisui/Matt Murdock (Daredevil): I'm not gonna lie i just love this actor. The blind leading the blind. They are both devastatingly gorgeous and it's unfair. Matt is like "listen... I know I'm bleeding but i need you to stitch me up before you freak out" and Shisui is like "omg are you the one who snapped the legs of those twelve mobsters? Babe 🥺 we could've been doing this together" and Matt is like "....do you want to get married effective immediately" ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Shisui/Bucky (MCU) reconditioning? Reconditioning ❤️ hurt comfort out of time/world badassery all around

Shisui/Nezuko (Demon Slayer) LISTEN. LISTEN. nezuko. ❤️‍🔥👏 Thank you for coming to my TED talk

Shisui/Tanjiro (DS) AGAIN LISTEN TO ME..... Exactly. You've thought about it, you understand, the energy, the desperation, the resolve, the responsibility, the baby boys with hearts of gold and such agonizing faith. You're welcome

Shisui/Rengoku (DS) let me tell you something LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING-!!! FIRE. ARSON. GORGEOUS. PASSIONATE. A LITTLE UNHINGED WHEN THE ADRENALINE HITS. GODSPEED

Shisui/Dabi (Bnha) so shisui is definitely a villain. Why? He's not hurting anyone.... Except yes he has killed or driven insane every person to cross him. Whoops. Shinobi morality is iffy as fuck here ("shisui was a pacifist" make canon make sense on your own post pls👋) and I'm not saying that he's fleeing the hero commission and being slandered by the press but that's exactly what I'm saying. Dabi didn't hire him to kill endeavor. No, Natsuo did that. Dabi is just pissed that this bitch keeps popping up and stealing his jobs. Why does he have crazy eyes and green flames? Hasn't he ever heard of brand infringement? Right in front of Dabi's salad??

Shisui/Mirko (Bnha) IF YOU HAVENT THOUGHT ABOUT IT YOU HAVEN'T LIVED

[whirlybirbs]

          (   this chapter’s gif by @august-walker​ from this beautiful set !   )

✪   —   VACANT MIRRORS  ;  B.B.  |  4/?

summary: you formulate a plan, meet steve rogers, and bucky goes on a date.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 6.8k, mother of pearl

a/n: this ended up being mostly a filler with a lot of romantic growth - i had to break this chapter up from the unce unce unce clubbing that coming up, so please enjoy! 

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MOSCOW, 1975.

In all the years that James Buchanan Barnes has had a heartbeat, he’d come to know the sounds of grief well.

War taught him a lot of things — that they were all just little boys playing with guns, and that no matter how many times you thought you’d be ready for the vomit-inducing pungency of violence, you never were. In the end, you’d do anything to save yourself; you’d crawl through the thick of death and debris a million times over if only to cling to the shredded tatters of your own humanity.

You would kill someone else’s son for the sake of your own mother.

War was disease that devoured every part of you — it was gunpowder snuff and carved flesh. That sickness — inky and desperate — had sunk deep into this heart during the war, and it crescendoed to the sounds of mothers clutching dead sons. The sounds that followed death were like a hollow opera. Waning and wailing.

In the raucous wake left by warborn grief, Bucky drowned everytime.

To the Winter Soldier, the operatic quality to the sounds of grief were as insignificant as a child’s rhyme.

He did not drown. No, he waded through the waves, comfortable in the cold and unphased by the stinging cut of loss. That was not something he could comprehend. After all, there were orders and there were targets, and everything in between was absolute.

He was the disease that devoured all.

He’s holding a gun to Andrei Kuznetzov’s head in a dining room with ornate trim — with silverware as delicate as scalpels that tinker against fine china. The carpets are red, the curtains are red, there’s blood on the table cloth. The guests continue to eat. Kuznetzov’s wife is screaming, red nails dug so deep into the dining chair’s arms it’s carving out the fabric. War dogs, like him, keep her rooted in her seat, and her tears find polished boots. She’s begging and bartering but the man with Kuznetzov’s life in his hands is not listening. He is eating his veal, bloodied meat dancing between his lips. He takes a sip of wine as his medal emblazoned chest glimmers in the light of crystalline chandaliers.

The spoils of war.

His smile is stained red.

There is no deal to be made.

The Winter Soldier pulls the trigger.

NOW.

His eyes are open.

Panic is the first emotion he feels, and it seizes him up quickly in its grasp. He doesn’t know this view, he doesn’t know where he is, not again, not again, not again —

Then:

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. Did you know you snore?”

The relief that the sound of your voice brings is immediate, and just like that he remembers. He’s laying on the bed. You’re sat up across from him at that small desk in the corner. He reaches as he rubs his face to thumb the edge of the pillowcase. He exhales tightly.

He’s fine. His name is James Buchanan Barnes. He is not longer the Winter Soldier. He’s in his Brooklyn apartment. He is fine.

When’s the last fucking time he’s slept in a bed?

He sits up, scratching his neck as he does. You lean back, half rotated in the desk. Before you is a mess of papers and his laptop — and on top of the keyboard sits his notebook. It’s open to the page where all he’d been able to figure out about Innessa was scrawled in his chicken scratch.

Bucky swings his legs over the edge of the bed and immediately his back complains.

“How long was I out?” he asks, voice hoarse with sleep. He moves to part the curtains. The room blooms with warm morning light.

You offer an apologetic smile into the vanilla sunshine. “Three hours. I wanted you to get some shut eye. You were starting to look a little overwhelmed last night—”

“You click too fast,” he waves, standing and immediately rolling his neck to the side. You watch as the man, before as peaceful as a sleeping pup, now regains his usual thinning veiled level of threat. Bucky is dangerous — it shows in the way he holds himself. He cracks his neck, rolls his shoulders, and groans. He exhales again, posture sagging a bit, “I couldn’t keep up.”

You’re standing now, socks padding against the hardwood as you eye his cowlick with a budding bloom of affection. With his notebook between your index and middle finger, you offer it out. You cling to your empty coffee cup in the other.

“I didn’t peek,” you say warmly, “Pinky promise.”

His laugh is more like a hot puff of air. Bucky manages a look that feels like an emotional dethaw.

“Thank you.”

You lead the way to the kitchen, stretching your own back as you go. You’d been up all night — this is your third trip out here for yet another cup of coffee. The pot has been on for too long, though, and you know the coffee sitting there is beyond bitter. You’re moving to dump it down the sink when Bucky grumbles.

“Don’t.”

“You want it?”

“No,” he mutters, reaching for a mug, “But I don’t want to waste it.”

“Wow,” you chirp, “The Great Depression just jumped out.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, yanking open the fridge to search for something to eat, “It does that.”

“Well, grandpa,” you hand him the steaming cup and set out to make another pot, “You’re also living on Depression Era rations — might I suggest some Dolly’s? Because I’m starving and I’ve been up all night and I think that means I get to decide where we get breakfast.”

Bucky’s look is soft — but you don’t see it. You’re too busy scooping sugar into your cup, too busy nudging him aside to grab the milk. He’s rooted there in the kitchen, watching you move about. You’re comfortable. There isn’t a trace of anxiousness in you, not in this moment, and he tries to remember what it looks like.

Your eyes find his and he clears his throat.

“Earth to Sergeant Barnes?”

“Don’t start,” he groans, albeit playfully, “It’s too early.”

“Oh, what? Too early for me to grill you on why you didn’t tell me that little laptop in there was on loan from the FBI? To one Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th?”

His face falls.

“Don’t worry,” you raise a hand quickly, leaning against the counter as you sip your coffee, “I figured that out before I did anything massively illegal.”

Bucky rubs his face as he takes a sip of his coffee — the bitterness is enough to slap him awake. He winces, swallows it back, and remembers the taste of instant coffee made in helmets on the line in Bastogne. He can smell snow, and the acrid sting of mortar smoke. Suddenly, he’s craving a cigarette.

That hasn’t happened in a while.

Bucky clears his throat. “Did you find anything?”

You frown slightly, lips pulled as you hide your inward disappointment — you push off from the counter and shake your head as you brush past him. Like a loyal dog, Bucky follows. Into the bedroom you go, and Bucky’s again surprised he managed to get any sleep at all in that bed. Maybe it was the comfort of having someone else there, or the genuine exhaustion that had finally choked him out after hours of trying to understand what the hell you were even doing on there.

You plop into the desk chair and snatch up a piece of paper littered with notes.

“I couldn’t do much of my usual snooping,” you explain gently as you gesture to the chromebook, “This thing might have been given to you in good faith, but they’re watching you pretty closely. So, I worked a little magic and ended up running a virtual machine. Gave me enough wiggle room to avoid the malware and keystroke trackers. Even still, I wanted to be careful, so I just did a little looking.”

“Looking?”

“I can’t dig deeper on Innessa, I know where to dig, but I can’t,” you frown, “Not on this laptop, and definitely not on my personal machines. I’ve got the GRC breathing down my neck, and the files I need to poke are very much off-limits.”

“So, what? We’re shit out of luck?”

“No, not entirely,” you stand up and motion to the paper in your hands; your tone is tight, “I know a few people who can help, but getting to them is going to be the hardest part.”

Bucky takes the paper, squinting at the writing as you settle on the edge of the bed next to him. You take a sip of your coffee and watch as his blue eyes dart across the notes; you point to the name scrawled across the top.

“There’s a club in lower Manhattan, but you’ve gotta know the right people to get in,” you mumble, scratching your cheek as a creeping sense of embarrassment bubbles up behind your words, “It’s in the basement of an old computer repair shop. It’s like a blackhat networking event, but with strippers.”

Bucky squints at the paper and reads the name. “The Glass Cannon?”

“Yeah,” you huff, crossing your arms tightly as you stand, “That’s the one.”

Bucky looks up from the paper, attention now rooted on the pacing you’ve begun to do across the room. Back and forth. You’re holding your coffee like a lifeline, gaze far away. That anxiousless way you’d been holding yourself before is gone. Now, he can see the tensing in your shoulders, in your fingers. You’re suddenly nervous.

Bucky stands. His voice is gentle.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” you snap almost immediately, “Just, y’know. Worried. I spent a lot of time there when I was younger. Did stupid shit. And now I’m about to waltz in after six years like I haven’t put that part of my life behind me.”

“We don’t have to do this,” he says immediately, moving to stand closer and halt your pacing. The invasion of your space forces you to look at him. His fingers glimmering in the morning light. You follow the line of his figure up to his eyes. The emotion there makes your heart clench. You can’t pin it down, and it’s gone in an instant.

“It’s the only way we’re going to find Innessa.”

“You don’t need to put yourself in situations like this for me,” he says, stressing the for me part in both expression and tone. The depreciation makes you wince and you’re fast to shake your head.

“That’s what friends do, Bucky,” you stand your ground, but you know there’s more to your reasoning than that, “Plus, she’s a bad guy. And I know you said I technically wasn’t the sidekick, but—”

“You’re not the sidekick—”

“I know,” you huff, nudging him gently with your arm, “But, I wanna help. Do some good.”

“You do enough good,” he mutters, “You’re a good person.”

Your words fail you at that — and your mouth parts but nothing comes out. Bucky watches with an expression as solid as rock as you blink and look away. His hand, the one of flesh and bone, finds your wrist as you tighten your grip on your mug.

The touch, though far too tender for you to handle, feels like fire.

Like a slap in the face, you’re reminded of how handsome Bucky is.

You slap that thought back, trading volleys, and remain quiet.

His tone is stern. “I mean it.”

“Well,” you finally muster, tone dipping sardonically into a cruel peel of humor, “Just wait until you see me in my natural habitat. Maybe the tequila shots will make you second guess that.”

“I didn’t know we were going out drinking,” he chirps as he raises an eyebrow, “Am I going to need to get you a leash?”

“We’re gonna have to try and blend in as best we can. People are going to know me — if they try to pin me with the GRC or the feds, we aren’t going to get anything on Innessa. They probably won’t even let me in the building if they suspect something’s up, after all not everything that goes down in Glass Cannon is kosher.”

“This is already sounding like a bad idea,” Bucky mumbles as he crosses his arms, “I’m stating that for the record, by the way.”

“Well, I think standing around and working ourselves up about this is even worse of an idea,” you chirp back, moving towards the door to muscle on your shoes, “So I say we feed ourselves and don’t worry about this until Thursday night.”

“Thursday.”

You nod.

All of a sudden, Bucky’s eyes go wide.

“Today is Sunday.”

You freeze, hand on the doorframe. You shoot him a wide-eyed look at the sudden flare of panic that’s shot up through him. “Yea, Bucky, today is Sunday.”

“Shit.”

“What?” you nearly cry as he disappears into the bedroom once more. You hear his closet open, then a clatter as he grabs something like keys — you nearly run directly into his chest when he strides back into the kitchen. He’s shouldered on his usual leather jacket, and in his hands is another.

He’s got keys in his hand.

“C’mon.”

He shoves the jacket into your arms and you frown.

“What the hell?” you cry, doubling back to snag your phone and bag as Bucky moves to the door, “What is this?”

“Put it on,” he says, holding open the door for you as you follow him into the apartment hallway.

You raise a brow and stand there as he locks the door.

“Why?”

“Because,” Bucky mumbles, rubbing his face as he widens his strides to the stairwell across the hall; before you know it, you’re desperately trying to keep up as he bounces down the steps — light on his feet like the boxer he is — towards the lower level of the apartment complex, “We’re late.”

You groan, trying to shrug on the jacket that smells like Bucky as you follow — a smell you’d come to know as clean laundry and sandalwood. Must be something for his hair. He never wore cologne, that much was apparent. The jacket is big on you, especially on the shoulders. You were swimming in it, trying not to trip as he held the door open to the garage.

Suddenly, the air is cooler. Immediately you wonder how much his rent is if he had access to a ground level garage. Call it NYC instinct.

“Bucky,” you nearly whine, throwing your head back, “Where are we going?”

Before you get a reply, you run straight into his back. Bucky grunts, moving to grab both of your hands and push you to the front of him.

Sitting in the spot is a motorcycle.

It’s a jet black Harley.

Bucky is handing you the helmet on the back seat as your mouth moves in disbelief. “No way— no, I’m not getting on that thing. I’d rather sell my kidneys. Stop, stop — ow, Bucky — you haven’t even said where we’re going!”

He’s muscling the helmet onto your head and through the flash of the visor you can see a real smile, the sort born out of his never-ending amusement towards your fickle sense of humor. His fingers are nimble against your chin. He takes the time to strap it on, adjust it, and give it a gentle tug. Bucky taps the matte black helmet twice, then flicks the visor down.

“We’re going upstate.”

                                        ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

It takes two hours to get to Elmwood Senior Living.

You spent the first forty-five minutes clinging to Bucky’s waist with your eyes closed — no fault of Bucky’s, really. It was different from riding in a car by miles, and you had your own qualms with driving. You couldn’t be in the passenger’s seat anymore. Not after the accident with Jaimie, when Mom disappeared. Being out of control made you itch; and it’s not until the fifty-minute mark that you ease up on the panic and remember who the man is that’s driving the bike.

You trust Bucky. You trust him with your life.

Once it’s open road, winding up towards the Northern part of the state, it gets easier.

Bucky can feel your grip around his waist loosen just a bit — and it’s enough reassurance that he stops looking back in the mirror every fifteen seconds. It’s enough permission to open up on the throttle, and the bike roars alive. Your immediate reaction is a gobsmacked yelp, the sort that’s pulled from a jolt of shock, but then comes the laugh. 

Bucky’s own quiet chuckle rumbles against your chest. You hold on tighter, but this time with open palms against the thrum of his ribs.

Halfway through the trip, he pulls into a McDonald’s.

You drop your ass onto the parking lot’s curb as he leans against the bike and houses a burger. You laugh, eyeing him candidly as you take a large bite from your own lunch. Bucky is a mess with it — cursing quietly when he ends up getting ketchup on his jacket.

“Shit.”

“Jesus, Bucky,” you mutter, “Did you even taste that thing?”

“Barely,” he clears his throat and starts picking at his fries, “These things taste different now. First time I ever had McDonald’s was right before bootcamp.”

“How much was it? Five cents?” you snort, leaning back and dropping a fry into your mouth.

Bucky watches with a half-smirk. “Fifteen, but nice try.”

He spends the next five minutes on his hand with a wet nap, trying hard to get the grease out of the delicate plates along his palm. You watch, as you knock back the rest of your soda, as his eyes crinkle tightly in frustration. His mouth is pulled tightly into a fine line. For the second time today, you’re reminded of how handsome Bucky Barnes is — and how fucking stubborn he is, too.

“Want help?”

“No,” he mutters, trying to get a spot between his thumb and index finger, “I got it.”

“I have smaller fingers,” you sing-song, gathering up his trash and your trash and crossing the parking lot to the bin; upon returning, you waggle them in his face, “Good for hard to reach places.”

Bucky absolutely hates that can feel his blush hit the tips of his ears at the comment.

He’s glad you’re too preoccupied with his hand to notice. You’re watching, like you always do, with respectful awe. To you, this part of him is a bit like a treasure — you find it beautiful and intriguing and incredible. It’s clear in the way you watch the mechanisms turn and tighten that you aren’t frightened by it.

It unsettles Bucky every time.

Finally, once he’s finished under your watchful eyes, he leans to muscle that helmet back over your head. You groan, squinting tightly.

“C’mon,” he knocks your helmet with his knuckles, “We’re almost there.”

The rest of the ride is wide open space, farm land and mountainous peaks looming far ahead. It’s warm, and the sun is hot on your back. The wind is howling around you and it sends your jacket collar flapping against your neck. Your chin rests neatly on Bucky’s shoulder, trying to get a view of the road ahead.

Elmwood Senior Living is tucked into the back of a suburb.

The two of you weave through a neighborhood or two, dancing under the shade of age old maple trees. They cast long, scattered shadows across the pavement as kids play on their lawns. A dog barks somewhere in the distance. Over the hill, church bells ring. Sunday service has ended.

Bucky rolls into the parking lot, past the large sign with swirling lettering. Suddenly, things make more sense. Suddenly, you’re struck with a sinking feeling of grief. Nostalgia. Mourning. But, happiness.

There are folks sitting outside, basking in the sun, tethered to walkers.

Bucky’s wrists crank back weathered knuckles, and slowly the bike rumbles into an open spot. Extending his legs, Bucky balances the bike with ease. You take that as your cue to swing yourself off the back clumsily, hopping a bit. Bucky leans, kicks the stand down, and with significantly more grace than you, swings his leg over.

You’re shrugging his jacket off when he speaks.

“He’s going to be different than how you imagine him.”

You exhale slowly, draping the jacket over the bike’s seat. You peel the helmet off.

“I’ve sort of pieced that together.”

You can see the slight discomfort hanging in his posture. You reach and touch Bucky’s arm.

“Come on,” you nod to the entrance, covered by a shady overhang where someone is helping a family member out of their car, “We don’t wanna be late, huh?”

His eyes soften. Bucky nods.

You walk side-by-side into the lobby of Elmwood Senior Living and it’s like time slows down. It halts in a warm, sunshine colored still — full of chatter, full of humanity, full of wisdom. The room is framed by big windows, by plants, by a man in a U.S. Navy ball cap. He’s stationed by the door, watching the comings and goings. The main desk, where a young woman watches, sits in the corner. You follow Bucky with a content little look. He notices.

He stands a little closer at the main desk. The girl, who looks like she’s incredibly out of place with her blue hair and piercings, is younger than you thought. Highschool, maybe. She offers Bucky an excited smile.

“Took you long enough,” she chirps, moving to sort through a bin to her side with key fobs.

Your brows raise. You spy calculus homework on the desk.

Bucky snorts. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He notices the same problem set you so, and purposely leans over the desk. Suddenly, you’re seeing flashes of a more boyish version of Bucky — one that reminds you of a man with siblings. Bucky taps the paper, jutting a chin to the girl as she tries to swat his attention away.

“How’d you do on that test?”

“I got a 96,” she chirps pridefully, laughing, “Thanks for the help, nerd.”

You’re watching the entire exchange with a smile, backing up a bit to toss a curious glance over your shoulder. There’s a dining room through open doors — and looks like lunch is just wrapping up. Folks are moving around, back to their rooms or upstairs where you can hear the beginnings of a seated aerobics class begin.

Bucky nudges you with his hand.

“Thanks, Sarah,” he says and waves the key she’d handed over.

The girl with the blue hair scoffs. “Say hi to grandpa for me, Bucket.”

You laugh out loud as Bucky quickly flips her off. She’s quick to do the same.

You follow him around the corner, grinning ear to ear. He spares you a sheepish look, then rolls his eyes.

“What was that?”

“She’s a good kid,” he offers, eyeing the key with the grey little fob attached, “Reminds me of my sister.”

Your face softens. “Sister?”

“Her name was Sarah, too,” he says quietly, boots landing softly on the blue carpet. He’s navigating the residential wing like he’s done it a million times. There are rooms with flowers outside, with holiday garb, with little photos and keepsakes. Each room holds a lifetime of personality — the sound of Jeopardy lulls along in the background.

You hum. Bucky sighs.

He meanders down a long hallway where a different door is — this one heavy and locked by the little keypad. Bucky raises the key fob to the device and the door buzzes.

This side of Elmwood is quieter.

Down the hall, Timmy Dorsey and Sinatra play quietly over someone’s record player.

There aren’t as many folks in the hall in this wing, but doors are open and nurses flit about. Around the corner, there’s a loud conversation going on about lunch — and you watch as Bucky weaves towards the nursing station. It’s a room overlooking the common area with windows. Inside are three women.

One of them immediately jumps when she sees Bucky.

“Oh, good! I was meaning to talk to you—”

“Everything alright?”

“About the same,” she breathes as she stands, moving to grab at a Bucky’s arm with a sense of motherliness that makes you smile, “But, meals have been a bit difficult lately.”

“No kidding,” he mutters, rubbing his chin, “He just doesn’t wanna eat?”

“He thinks Peggy is coming home,” the woman whispers with a pained smile as she begins to lead you both down the hall, “He thinks your grandmother made dinner for him.”

“Right,” Bucky nods, “Doesn’t wanna ruin his appetite.”

“Exactly.”

You take note of the conversation, muddling through your own confusion. You’re quiet, though. This isn’t really your conversation to have. Bucky seems to be relaxed more — even humming slightly to a song that plays across the hall from the room the nurse is knocking on.

“Mr. Carter?” she calls gently, “Your grandson is here to see you, and his…”

She looks expectantly at you. You bawk.

“Friend.”

“Right,” she smiles and pushes open the door.

It’s like a little slice of home.

Sofas, chairs, photos on the walls. There’s a record player in the corner, a television, a coffee table stacked with books on the second world war. There’s a dresser covered in baubles and warm light coming in from the window overlooking the street. It reminds you of your grandparents’ sitting room — everything looks so lived in, so comfortable, so alive.

And then, below the light of the window, is a hospital bed.

In it is Steve Rogers.

Not the one you know — no, this one has lived a full life. This Steve Rogers has fallen in love, owned a home, settled down. This Steve Rogers has years of wisdom settled into his face, years of well-fought fights in his joints. His blonde hair has gone shock white, but his smile is all the same.

“Bucky.”

The way Steve says his name is like the man beside you holds the world.

To Bucky, he can hear a new weakness. A new exhaustion.

“Hi, punk.”

The nurse offers a little wave to you as Bucky ventures into the room, stripping his jacket off and moving to scope out the minifridge in the small kitchenette beside the bathroom. She leaves the door open, and you smile to her softly. Bucky rummages, poking his head up.

“You want a drink, Steve?” he asks, tone almost like he’s feeling out the lucidity of the man across the room, “There’s some of that lemonade I brought last week in here.”

“Sounds good,” he says slowly, “Please.”

You feel out of place — not unwelcome, but… it’s clear that Bucky has come and gone from here a thousand times now. He knows to get the glasses out, to get a straw, to turn down the record player on his way over. Doris Day’s voice lowers to a soft croon. You watch with heavy eyes.

“I brought someone, Steve,” Bucky says, “She’s a big fan.”

“Oh?” Steve asks with a slow look to the corner where you’re standing, “That musta broke your heart.”

Bucky snorts as he moves to swing the hospital bed’s tray over Steve’s lap. He places the lemonade down, then the other glass on the nightstand. He’s quick to move the armchair closer to the nightstand, and gestures for you to come over. Bucky’s hands guide you by the shoulders as he plops you into the chair.

“She’s one of the good ones,” Bucky says, “Reminds me of you.”

“No kidding,” Steve says slowly, offering a hand that shakes, “Steve Rogers. It’s a pleasure.”

You exchange your name with a shy look, shaking that hand with reverence and gentility. “It’s an honor, Mr. Rogers.”

“Please,” he mumbles, moving to slowly take a sip of his lemonade, “Steve is fine.”

Bucky moves to take up a post on the opposite side of Steve, in the sun. “You’re losin’ weight, y’know.”

That earns him a wave of the hand.

Bucky leans back and sips his lemonade. He waggles a finger and you watch the two begin to go back and forth.

“No, no,” he swallows, “No, you don’t get t’ shrug me off—”

“M’fine, Buck,” a sigh, “Really.”

“Mhm,” he narrows his eyes, “You’re startin’ to look like the Steve I knew before the serum.”

You lean back, hiding a quiet smirk behind your hand.

“I was wondering when you were gonna show up an’ pester me,” he says with a tired look, “The only peace I get around here is when Peggy comes home.”

Your eyes jump to Bucky. He’s watching you.

“Peggy?” you ask gently, “Is that your wife?”

A proud smile washes over his face. “Still knocks me for a loop, too.”

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice is gentle, “Peggy won’t be coming around for a while. Remember?”

There’s a look that flashes across Steve’s face, then. A mixture of sadness, of confusion, of panic. It’s clouded with a furrow of his brow, hidden by a tilt of the head. He looks at Bucky, mouth pulled in a fine line.

When he finally speaks, his voice is sad.

“That’s right. I forgot.”

“S’alright,” Bucky taps his head, maintaining an air of nonchalance, “That’s why you got me.”

“And why you’ve got her, no doubt,” he turns to you with a winning smile and offers his hand again, “Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you.”

You take it, you shake it, and you introduce yourself once more. Your smile is patient and understanding. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Steve.”

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. Steve smiles, tossing Bucky a look that borders on mischievous.

He sips his lemonade and clears his throat. “How is Sam?”

“You ask every time,” Bucky mutters, “And every time I have the same answer.”

“Sam?” you ask slowly.

“Wilson,” Bucky finishes, “Bird man.”

“You mean Falcon,” you correct, shooting him a stern look, “The Falcon. Are you ghosting The Falcon?”

“I don’t know what that even means, so maybe,” Bucky leans back and crosses his legs, “I’ve been busy.”

You roll your eyes. Steve saw. He smiles.

“I’m gettin’ why he keeps you around.”

Your face is smacked with a look of pure joy.

“C’mon on now,” Bucky cries, nearly indignantly, “No flirting—”

“M’ not flirting—”

“I know that look, Steve—”

Steve is laughing.

Bucky has a stern look in his eye. “You always do this—”

“I’m not doin’ a damn thing—”

“And you better keep it that way, old man,” Bucky shirks, voice splintering into a laugh in a way that you’ve never heard before, “I swear, this is how it always goes.”

“Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, huh, Buck?” you ask gently, leaning your cheek into your hand.

Steve laughs loudly at that.

Bucky spares you a smile — the sort that’s drenched in good humor and sunlight. It makes your lungs flutter, and you ignore the buzz in your fingers at the sight. You hide your laugh into your cup of lemonade, resigning to be a quiet counterpart in the conversation.

The two of them go on to chat about small things, then chat about old things. From the Commandos, to HYDRA, to amends, to therapy, to Peggy, to the itch the starch of their old dress uniforms used to bring. It takes a bit, a few redirections on the way, but it’s clear by the end why Steve Rogers is in Elmwood’s memory unit.

It makes your heart ache.

And if a super soldier is bed-ridden…

The two of you say goodbye around three in the afternoon after Bucky helps Steve shave.

The walk back to the bike is quiet.

Bucky speaks first.

“He’s dying.”

You chew your lip, eyes on the pavement. You match his slow stride, bumping your elbow with his as you walk. It’s still warm, and the clouds hang high in the sky. When you look up, Bucky’s watching you. You sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you finally muster, “I am.”

“Don’t be,” he says, grabbing the jacket from the seat and holding it up, “He’s lived a long life.”

You let Bucky hold out the arm for you, and you press your hand through the sleeve. He helps the other side on, and you zip it up to your chin. When you turn around to face him, there are tears in your eyes.

They snuck up on you. You hadn’t realized it until Bucky’s face fell, until the first one fell along the weathered leather of the jacket. You blink, raising your brows as you swipe them away, and offer an apologetic look.

“I’m happy,” you say, “Y’know. He has you. But, he’s a man out of time. Even now. That makes me sad.”

Bucky’s quiet for a while. He’s leaned up against the bike as you turn and watch Elmwood from the back of the parking lot. There’s a big part of you that feels heavy with guilt — and though Steve was in good spirits when you left, you can’t help but ache to provide him with more company. It’s clear that seeing Bucky means a lot to him, and that in turn it means a lot to the man beside you.

“Come on,” Bucky says then, “Let’s go home.”

You nod, let him muscle that helmet onto your head one more time, and hold on a little tighter back to the city.

                                       ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

You don’t see Bucky until Tuesday.

In all honesty, it feels weird to not hear from him for two days. At the very least, you expected some sort of phone call — but you remind yourself that you’ve been okay alone for a long time. There’s no need to throw all your work on being comfortable by yourself out the window for Bucky Barnes.

It’s tempting, though. God, it’s really tempting.

You hate the ache in your chest when you finally see him lumbering towards the cafe counter before your appointments. You hate this new feeling — so you shove it down and ignore the way his fingers brush yours when he hands you your latte.

He is ignoring it, too. He’s been ignoring it.

No use in thinking about it though.

“You got plans later?” you ask him in the elevator after your appointment, tilting your head, “Apparently there’s a Lord of the Rings marathon tonight on FX.”

Bucky stiffens — and immediately he can feel the hot sting of anxious regret flood his cheeks. He clears his throat, tucks his hands in his pockets, and toes the ground. You watch with a confused look. Then he speaks tightly.

“...I’ve got a date.”

You could have caught flies the way your jaw fell open.

“Oh. Oh!”

You blink, readjust your expression, and swallow down a sharp stab of rejection.

Bucky clears his throat. “It’s… I wasn’t going to but, Dr. Raynor—”

“No, no,” you wave your hands and shake your head and try to seem genuine, “No, I’m happy for you. Is this one of those Christian Minglers?”

Bucky groans. “Shut up.”

“Okay,” you say, “Okay! Just, uh, be careful. Y’know? And call if you need anything.”

The elevator doors open, and Bucky walks side by side with you through the well-lit lobby. He holds the door open for you, and you pass through with a pained look at the ground. He lingers, though, rubbing the back of his neck as you wait for him to say what’s on his mind.

“Thursday,” he says, “I’ll stop by.”

“Yea,” you say, waving your hand, “Whenever.”

But, that doesn’t end up happening.

No, Bucky Barnes shows up at your apartment doorstep at 10pm.

He’s clutching takeout and a six pack of beer and wearing a horrified expression that screams of guilt and exhaustion. No, Bucky buzzes the door to your apartment and basically croaks that he’s here — he’s asking if the marathon is still on while you buzz him up.

“Third floor,” you say into the buzzer with a smile, “Come on in, old man.”

When you open the door, you have to laugh — because his hair is a mess and there’s still a trace of lipstick on the corner of his mouth. Whereas jealousy threatens to flare, his incredibly regretful expression tamps it down. You cock a hip, eye him up and down, and jut your chin out.

“Get laid?”

Bucky rolls his eyes so hard you’re surprised he didn’t break something.

He pushes past you, moving to drop the beer on the counter and place the takeout gently down by the basket of fruit.

“I’m here for the cat,” he grumbles, “Not your witty commentary, sweetheart.”

You’re moving quietly to the sink and gathering a paper towel with a smirk as Bucky looks around, admiring the decor and aliveness of your apartment. When you turn around, he’s already pried a beer from the pack and popped the top off with his vibranium palm.

He winces when you reach up to swipe the coral lipstick from the corner of his mouth.

Then Bucky settles, letting you clean off the mess.

“Mhm,” you hum, “Right. Was it at least fun?”

“She had fun,” he mutters into his first sip, “It was a lotta tongue for my first night out in nearly a century, though.”

You wince. He nods with a sardonic smile that tells you everything about how the date went down — and you’re relieved. “So, I take it you're not calling her in the morning?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “Nope. No, and I’ve decided no more dates. That was enough for me.”

You wince and pluck a beer from the pack. Wordlessly, Bucky gestures for you to hand it over. In one smooth motion, he twists the cap off with his hand.

“That bad?” you ask, eyeing him critically.

“I decided halfway through,” he says as he moves to take the takeout from its bag, “I’d rather be watching Lord of the Rings with you.”

That stops you into silence. It’s like someone’s taken your own words and gagged you with them — and you’re left floundering for breath you never even realize you lost. You know he means it. You know it because he won’t look at you, because that sort of confession isn’t easy for people like you two. So you take those words and you glue them in a lonely locket and keep them close to your heart.

Poke’s entrance saves you a mouthful of broken words — he comes in, trots up to Bucky, and hollers.

Bucky laughs.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he mutters, eyeing the cat that’s eagerly rubbing himself along Bucky’s leg.

You wipe your face, sip your beer, and move to the pantry across from the kitchen island. You come back out with a bag of salmon treats — the good ones — and offer Bucky the bag. He takes it, eyes still on the calico, and crinkles it a little.

You lean against the counter and watch Bucky kneel.

“If you keep it up long enough he might even let you hold him.”

He lights up at that.

You laugh.

You move to grab plates and forks and knives and groan when you open up the first box to see Pad Thai — you make a mental note to properly thank Bucky for this. You meager dinner of reheated pasta really hadn’t hit the spot. This will, though. You can tell from the smell alone.

By your knees, Poke chirps.

“He’s cute.”

“I never took you for a cat guy.”

Bucky snorts.

You make a plate and flick his head as you walk by. “You’re missing the start of The Two Towers.”

“I’m going to be confused, aren’t I?” he asks as he stands and begins making himself a plate. He watches as you settle onto the couch and sip your beer, “I was too busy being turned into a cyborg to read the books.”

You laugh out loud. It shocks you.

“Was that a joke? Did Bucky Barnes just make a joke?”

He’s smirking. He rounds the counter with his food and settles next to you. Poke is following him, eager to curl up next to his new friend.

“I can be funny.”

“Funny lookin’.”

He elbows you on purpose. You snort into your beer.

There’s a comfortable moment of quiet between you, and you clear your throat.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, “No problem.”

More quiet, and he’s still watching you. Then, he asks what’s been on his mind for the last three days.

“You got a plan for Thursday?”

“I’ve got anxiety, Buck,” you exhale, swigging your beer and turning the television up, “I always have a plan.”

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

I want to know what could’ve been in Please Baby. Could you please share with us, pretty please?

— please baby —

Warnings: fluff, angst

Alternate ending to Please Baby

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader from Champagne

A/N: This is like a What If…? episode but for my fic and I love the concept. Enjoy!

“Thanks guys,” Noah slurred, shifting in his seat a little to lay back slightly. You grinned and rocked the baby who had yet to be named. You felt Bucky’s arms wrap around your waist from behind, his chin on your shoulder, and he placed a quick kiss to the crook of your neck. You both stood there for a few long minutes, relishing the peace and quiet.

“He’s so cute.”

“He’s cute enough,” Bucky whispered, smiling against your skin. You let out an airy giggle, speaking as gently as he was.

“What’s cuter?” You questioned and turned your head to the side to look at him when his chin left your shoulder. With a curious expression aimed at him, he leaned in to give you a gentle yet passionate kiss, leaving you to giggle afterwards.

“Our kids,” he declared with a nervous smile. You mimicked his smile which made his smile turn into a smug grin. He licked his lips, making your eyes dart down to catch the action before gazing into his eyes again as he spoke. “I want one or two or three or four or five or—”

“I get it,” you interrupted, cheeks and ears burning up rapidly. Your body felt as if it was on fire as his lips landed on your neck and his hands sprawled across your lower stomach. You bit back a sigh and opted to relax your tense body against Bucky. His breath was cold compared to your heated body, sending shivers down your spine and giving you a chance to escape your head. “So you want a baby?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered nonchalantly with a shrug. “I thought I was being obvious.”

“Now you are,” you teased, glancing down at the baby boy. “I just want to be sure if you really want to—”

“Of course I want to! I mean it more—”

“I believe you, but I need to make sure it isn’t just a spur of the moment confession, Buck. There’s a lot going on right so I wouldn’t be—”

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” Bucky deadpanned, letting you go abruptly and leaving the room as soon as he could. You chewed the inside of your cheek, swallowing down the bile that rose in your throat.

———

The baby boy had gotten hungry and woken Faith and Noah up with his wailing. The nurse, Vanessa, had come in and started to help Faith feed him, giving you the time to go and find Bucky. It had only been ten minutes since he had left and yet the sinking feeling of him not being in the room made your stomach knot. You stepped through the doors, finding him leaning against the wall with his hands shoved in his pockets, staring intensely at the vending machine.

“James?” Your voice broke him out of the trance he was captured in, but he didn’t look at you. Instead he looked down at the ground with a sigh.

“You need something?” The way his tone was closed off made you step closer to him. You weren’t even sure what made him leave the room in the first place. You knew that he was serious when he said he wanted to start a family with you, that had always been the plan, and you knew that. But this wasn’t the right time in your opinion. Bucky could’ve said it out of the moment that you were sharing with his arms wrapped around your waist and you holding your nephew.

“Bucky,” you sighed, sounding dejected. You wrapped your arms around yourself as if it could shield you from your feelings. “Talk to me.”

“About what?” He snapped, kicking off the wall and turning towards you. This time he looked you in the eye. “About how easily you brushed my statement off? About how much I want kids with you? About how much you don’t want kids? Not with me at least.”

“What?” You shook your head, not able to wrap your head around the idea of Bucky thinking that you didn’t want kids with him. Bucky clenched his jaw and turned his head away from, closing his eyes and letting out a huff. You stalked forward and embraced him, arms sneaking around his neck. His hands stayed in his pockets, fisted. “Why would you think that?” You pulled away to look at his face, cupping one of his cheeks so that he looked at you.

“I’m not exactly the best man in the world if you haven’t noticed,” he tried to joke, failing as your lips tugged down a bit while his sort of smirk faltered. “I wouldn’t be surprised if ya didn’t want kids with me anymore. There ain’t a lot of people who wanna kid with a former assassin.” His Brooklyn accent started to leak into his words and you found yourself smiling ever so slightly.

“I would’ve never thought that the father of my future kids would be such an idiot,” you whispered, causing Bucky to snap his eyes to yours. “I can’t believe that you would think that I didn’t want kids because of you. Here I was thinking that I would tell you that I want kids, but not right now because we got married just a month ago, we need to find a house we can call home, and we need to make sure that our job wouldn’t affect their lives. That we need time to plan everything.”

A moment silence passed as it clicked.

“Shit. I’m an idiot.” Bucky leaned his forehead against your shoulder and let his hands grasp your waist, groaning as he finally realised that you were right with all the reasons. “Sorry, doll. I got caught up in my head and didna think properly.”

“It’s fine, Bucky,” you said, giggling slightly. “I’m sure that Tony can find a house we like in just a matter of days and we can book an appointment with a doctor before we start trying to get some expert advice. And as for the job situation, I’m still on paperwork duty so it works out.”

“You’re amazin’,” Bucky sighed, lifting his head and smashing his lips to yours. When he pulled away, he had a look of confusion etched on his face. “What about the married a month ago thing?”

“Baby, we’ve been together for a couple of years. I think we had enough alone time.”

“Never enough time with you, darlin’.”

[randomshyperson]

Left Behind - Chapter 10 - Atlantis

Gif was made by @abimess aka wifey

Summary: The one where you lived in the apartment under the Maximoff family in Sokovia, or, your journey as a Sokovian civilian to Avenger.

Series Warnings: (+16) Violence, fighting, cursing, civil war environments, abuse of power, assault, torture, underage kissing, psychological torture, substance use, mention of assault/fighting of children, smut, kissing, teasing, insinuation of sexual and moral harassment, verbal offenses.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader || platonic bucky barnes x reader, mentor!natastha romanoff and mentor!steve rogers, bruce banner x reader (friendship), pietro maximoff x reader (friendship).

Words: 3.445K

A/N> I should warn you for the angst in this one i think. Please don't hate the ending of this or the fic. Good reading you all. Also, listen to "Atlantis" by Seafret, i chose the name based on that song.

All Works Masterlist || Read on AO3 || Series Masterlist

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Chapter 10 - Atlantis

You ignore the insinuating look Pietro gives you when he sees you leaving Wanda's room in the morning.

"Not a word." You warn threateningly as he raises his arms in surrender, holding back his laughter.

You turn and go back to your room, trying not to smile like an idiot as you prepare for the mission, and failing miserably.

You try not to think about last night, or the morning after, but the feel of Wanda's lips on your skin is all that comes to mind for the next few hours.

Even during breakfast, where after she stole a kiss on your cheek in the hallway before you guys joined the Avengers, and sat beside you at the table while Steve went over some details to everyone, all you could think about was the last night. In Wanda's taste, her hands inside…

"Stop it." She warns softly at your side. Lower enough so only you can hear, and not to get in the way of the captain's speech. You blink in confusion, and then you understand. Feeling your face heat up, you look at her with a mixture of surprise and indignation.

"You can...?"

"Yes, now eat in silence please." She interrupts in the same tone, equally embarrassed as she keeps her gaze on the plate in front of her.

"Wanda?" You try next. And she mutters under her breath, and then she realizes. She rolls her eyes, and goes back to eating. You smile. "I can't believe you didn't tell me you could hear thoughts."

"It was kind of obvious don't you think?" She retorts mentally. "My whole thing is mind control."

"Your whole thing is to be the love of my life." You tease and she chokes lightly on her coffee, making you hold back a laugh as you gently touch her back. She says she's fine softly, and Steve, who had given her a worried look, goes back to talking about planning for the defenses in Sokovia.

"When this is over, I want to try a few things." You mentally tell her and Wanda looks at you quickly before turning her attention back to Steve. You imitate the movement.

"We'll leave as soon as you finish eating." Steve says already getting up. You suddenly feel anxious.

Wanda notices the way your body has tensed, and looks at you immediately.

"Hey, everything okay?" she asks tenderly. You give her a weak smile, placing your hand on her thigh. Wanda puts her hand on top of yours.

"I'm nervous."

"Me too." She confesses. "But we'll be fine. I got you."

"And I got you."

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As soon as you join the jet with the rest of the Avengers, you could already feel the control serum starting to wear off.

Sighing a little, you don't even have to ask to have Wanda's hand in yours. Her eyes and fingers glow red for a moment as she helps you, before returning to normal. You mumble a thanks, resting your back against the jet's wall.

"Remember what we trained, Avengers." Announces Steve upon entering. "Removing the civilians is the support team's priority, while Clint searches for Natasha. The strike team must deal with Ultron's guards."

"Yes, captain." The team says in understanding, and then the jet is leaving.

It takes ten minutes for Pietro to start teasing you.

"I hear we had a girls night yesterday." Commented the boy out loud, attracting the attention of Bruce and Bucky, who were standing next to you. Wanda glared at her brother.

"Pietro..."

"What is it, sestra? I’m just saying.”He joked. You wondered if you could throw him off the jet from that high. "I heard that this type of activity is a great stress reliever."

You felt your face heat up, and you sank into your seat. In the next second, the rest of the team understood. Clint whistled loudly, and Tony laughed. Bruce blushed and pretended to pay attention to his boots while Bucky giggled at Steve's embarrassed expression.

"Forgive me, I'm not following the reason for the humor in this conversation." Vision commented then.

"Don’t you dare." Wanda warned when he saw Pietro raise his hand to tell Vis what was being said, and the boy laughed before ducking.

Vision watched the interaction with confusion, but it was Tony who threw his arm around him.

"They had sex, champion." Tony announced, making you grunt in embarrassment. "I can't wait for Nat to know, she owes me fifteen bucks”.

“What?” Wanda asks, confused.

"Ah, it's just that before you arrived, the golden eyes there were always talking about you." Tony counts with irony. "How much she loved and missed a certain little witch and her inconvenient brother. So we made a bet that you two would work it out. I said it would happen before you went back to Sokovia, but Natasha thought Y/N was slower and would just work it out after we’re done with Ultron."

"Thanks for the faith, Tony." You mumble awkwardly, adjusting your posture. "Now if you don't mind, can you stop talking about my life?"

The team laughs but the comments about you and Wanda stops. Until you reach Sokovia, you spend your time playing with Wanda fingers as you both lay against each other's shoulders while listening to whenever small talk the Avengers build up.

Things get tense once you reach the country.

Steve signals that you arrive and starts moving around to get read for the jet to land.

You only let go of Wanda’s hand to put your suit on and once you’re done, she’s right in front of you, smiling tenderly as she puts a jacket on.

“Are you good?” She asks.

“Yes. You?”

“Yeah.” She aswerns as she moves forward to kiss you firmly on the mouth. It relaxes your body completely, and you keep your hands on top of hers that are on your face until you break the kiss.

You wish you could care about the teasing looks the team cast to you too, but all you see is Wanda.

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You sat down quickly on the ground, your body against a wall, while trying to get your breathing back to normal.

Wanda was using her powers to get civilians out of their homes, and well, it took some of her magical attention away from you.

It didn't take long for you to be able to detect all the biological life around you again, meters and meters away, quickly feeling overwhelmed.

"How are we?" Steve asked over the communicator, probably already advancing with the rest of the team towards the former Hydra base. You looked up at the sky to get a quick glimpse of Tony flying in his suit before he vanished away.

"All right around here, Captain." Clint responded first followed by the rest of the team.

Your hesitation made Steve specifically call you, but before you could say anything, Wanda was kneeling beside you, one hand on your shoulder and the other on her communicator.

"We are good." She responded before turning her attention to you completely. You felt her magic envelop you quickly, your body relaxing. "How do you feel, dear?"

"Better now." You respond with a smile. "Thanks."

As she helped you to your feet, you noticed her worried expression, and placed a hand on her cheek.

"I'm fine Wanda, I promise."

"Just don't push too far, okay?" She asks. "You can go back to the jet whenever you want."

"I'll be okay, Wanda." You mumble. "Let's get this over with so we can go back to bed." You teases with a mischievous smile, stealing a kiss before walking away, giving her a wink before heading towards the rest of the civilians.

Ultron had better plans than this.

“We need to get everyone out of here immediately.” Tony told through the communicator. “A vibranium bomb. We don’t have time.”

“Working on it, iron boss.” You mock as you helped another family move out of their home. Just like, Pietro had already headed to police stations and hospitals to remove people from there. There was a large crowd of inhabitants heading out of town, but there were still many more.

Peace ended quickly.

Ultron activated the robot army, and they literally began to sprout from the ground.

"Bucky, we're going to need support here pal." Steve warned through the communicator while you were drawing your pistol to prevent one of the robots from advancing on you.

"On my way, cap." The soldier warned. "Just don't tell my therapist."

You and the team laughed lightly as you fought. The whole thing getting bigger and bigger every minute.

Wanda covered for you while you guided people out, but it was becoming untenable.

So, as soon as she tore apart the small group of Ultron’s army that was surrounding you two, you called her.

"You can't keep babysitting me , this is getting too bad." You warned, your voice almost muffled by the length of the fight. The robots flying above you, and Thor and Vision facing them in the sky.

"I won't leave you." She insisted seriously and you swallowed hard.

"Wanda..."

“End of discussion.”

“You are cute and all, it's just that we have a situation here. Mind getting back into the fight?" Natasha's voice interrupted the moment over the radio, sounding amused and teasing. You sighed with relief when you realized she was okay, and you exchanged one last look with Wanda before going back to fighting. “By the way, Tony said I lost the bet.”

“Please don’t bring this back.” You ask Natasha, that just laughs before hanging off, not without teasing you about being proud of you for making a move.

The ground shook beneath your feet, making it difficult for you to keep your balance.

"Guys, what's going on?" You asked through the communicator.

Sokovia is going for a ride.

Friday tells the whole team. You gasp in surprise, looking around.

The ground is breaking apart, and the city is rising into the air. You don't need your powers to know that not all buildings are empty. The debris will end up hurting someone.

And even with all that, the advances of Ultron's army get even worse.

You barely have time to duck before Wanda rips apart a robot that attacked you.

Clint catches up with you two the next second.

"We need to regroup, Tony needs us back there." He warns you. You frown.

"Not a chance, there are civilians all over the place." You say, moving quickly to fire at the machines that have appeared behind you.

"Well, we need the offensive back at the church." He counters. "That's where the bomb is."

"You two go then." You say when you finish shooting. Wanda, who has just destroyed three machines at once, turns to you in indignation.

"No."

But you don't look at her, you look at the blue flash figure approaching.

“Hey Peete, do you mind?” You shouted to him as he stopped next to you two. He nods at you before picking Wanda up, who has no time to complain. He teases Clint "Keep up, old man." before disappearing at high speed, making you laugh.

Clint looks at you.

“Are you sure?”

"It's my job to protect them.”

“The Maximoff or the civilians?” He mocks, making you roll your eyes.

“Go, Barton.”

It doesn't take long for your biological detection to come back.

You think you're going to pass out. But you take a deep breath, and stumble among cars and wrecking machines.

Calm down. You remember Wanda's soft voice in the glass room. The feel of her fingers on your skin. Calm down, I'm here. You can do this.

"I can do this." You mutter to yourself, trying to keep your balance.

You find a horde around the corner, almost close enough to a group of civilians coming out of the municipal hospital.

Ignoring the feeling of being overwhelmed at being able to feel the fear and despair of those people, you advance with the pistol in your hand.

The machines were destroyed, but not by you.

"You took your time, Barnes." You tease with a wry smile, rushing to help the civilians, feeling their superficial wounds before helping them. Bucky smiles and shrugs, a rifle in his hand as he gives you cover to help the population.

"Two minutes out here and I'm already missing my retirement." He comments as he fires, making you laugh, a bit breathless due your powers. Bucky notices right the way. "Are you all right?"

"I'm just considering retiring too after here." You retort by standing up again, helping the little girl who had bruises on her forehead to join the rest of the family. She smiles in thanks, but you're already walking away again, your head pounding from how many people you can feel at once.

You stumble around the rubble to the front of the municipal hospital. Ignoring the memories you have of the whole neighborhood, you try to focus on some group.

"Y/N, I think there are kids coming out of that corner!" Bucky unnecessarily warns you because you've already felt them.

You recognize Church clothes that the adults leading the group wear. They are coming from the Orphanage where you grew up.

You run to catch up to them, and it's the first time you've really noticed Ultron's cruelty. It's a horde that arises, and they notice you right away. The machine in front follows your gaze to the small group, and it has a chance to shoot only you, but it turns its mechanical hand, and aims directly at the kids.

You widen your eyes, feeling your heart race.

"NO!"

Something explodes in your chest. Everything turns golden before returning to normal color. You can’t see the golden wave that reaches the group because there’s a pain in the back of your head that makes you close your eyes tightly.

The robot fired, but if it weren't for the gunshot marks on the robes, no one would know as none of the civilians had any injury. The kids were wide-eyed, and you fell to your knees.

Bucky shot the machines before looking at you in amazement.

"How did you do that? They were practically a street away." He asked in shock, watching the nuns guide the kids to cover quickly, just as in shock as he was. Your lack of response alarmed him and he turned to face you quickly, touching your shoulder. "Y/N, you're bleeding..."

"I know." You grunt weakly, taking a deep breath as you lean on Bucky to get up. "Let 's keep going."

You wiped the blood running from your nose with your hand, but ignored the wet sensation in your ears. Bucky hesitated.

"No, you're not okay." He insisted. "Let's go back..."

"Let go of me, Bucky." You exclaimed angrily, pulling his hands away. "I heal, don't I? I'll be fine. Let's keep going."

"Y/N..."

But you are already walking. You can feel all the injured, and you need to keep going.

You help at least two more groups to shelter, until you're resting your hands on your knees and trying to stay on your foot.

You see your blood dripping to the ground, and you hear Bucky's footsteps approaching, so you wipe your face quickly while disguising the way your head is spinning.

"This isn't working Y/N." He says as he looks around at the wreckage. "These things seem to grow out of the ground, and there's no end to them. The city is too high right now and these people have nowhere to go."

You were going to agree with him, but something in the sky caught your eye.

"I think that's their ride." You say while pointing straight ahead.

It's a gigantic ship, flowing alongside the city. You and Bucky exchange a look, before he uses the communicator to confirm that this was a good thing.

With Shield providing shelter for civilians, you started running to help evacuate people from the floating capital of Sokovia.

Your head was spinning, and your feet were about to give up, but you forced yourself to continue.

Your body is shaking when you turn to help a boy who cut his leg.

"Ty angel, devochka? (are you an angel, lady?)" He asks, scared when you heal him and you give a weak laugh.

"Net, ya Avenger. (no, I’m an Avenger.)"

The wound isn't that big, but it's enough to rob the air of your lungs. Bucky guides the boy with the rest of the group back to the ship, and you can barely stand, your stomach turning.

You force yourself to get up. Just a bit longer.

Lifting your hand to your ear, you call out to Wanda while leaning on the car beside you so you don't fall to the ground.

"Wands?" You say wait for her to respond. She sounds worried when she says your name, but you just sigh. "Babe, when this is over, I'm taking you out on a date. Like the cliches we've never done before, okay?"

"Why are you talking like this?" She asked, scared. You can hear the background noises, the way she was probably keeping the bomb safe but facing Ultron's army. "Where are you?"

"I think we should try Disneyland too. Americans seem to love that." You continue as you begin to walk again. One hand on the tech inside your ear and the other in the wound in your belly, formed while you faced the last horde of robots, not healing anymore. "You would like a candlelight date with wine and music, wouldn’t you?"

"Please tell me where you are, I'll come to you." She begs through the radio and you smile before hanging up.

You saw Clint run further to the town.

You take a deep breath, rushing to catch up. You also see the jet Ultron stole rounding the city towards them, the rifles outside ready to aim.

That's why Clint ran there, to save one of the civilians left behind, you notice as you see the little boy on your friend's arm.

You try to do what you did before. Project your healing magic to them to keep them protected, but as you lift your hands to do that, all you feel is a sharp twinge in the middle of your chest and you almost fall to the ground.

Fine, I'll heal them myself. You think impatiently as you ignore your own limit and run.

You are almost there. But so is Ultron. If you stay up front, you think you can protect Clint and the civilian, you'd heal later, no problem.

“I’m gonna win.”

You widen your eyes in surprise when Pietro whispers in your ear, disappearing in his speed the next moment.

No. Don't do this.

You feel the shots before you hear them. You feel it through Pietro's body, who stepped forward to protect Clint.

You throw yourself forward, desperate.

You reach Pietro the second his heart stops beating.

"Piete?" You call to him as he falls into your lap. You can feel the air disappearing from his lungs, life fading away "Hey buddy, don't do that. Pietro! Please..."

You bury your face in his chest, trying to hear something. Anything. You press your hands against his chest next, then his face.

"Don't die on me, Pietro." You beg with a sob. You force your magic in despair. No matter how much it hurts, Pietro cannot die. He just can't.

You can only remember the skinny little boy running with you in your childhood. Laughing with you on the roof. Teaching you to fight.

Your tears mix up with your blood.

"Captain, we have a problem." Clint announces at your side.

No.

I'm not giving up.

You grunt in pain as you press your hands hard on Pietro's chest, your veins popping with a golden light. You're not dying on me.

Something starts to pulse in your head. Loud enough to completely disorient you. Your eyes are heavy, and you choke on your own blood coming out of your mouth.

You smile because you can feel the air returning to your friend's lungs at the same rate as it leaves yours.

When Pietro breathes again, your eyes close.

/-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-///-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-////-//-

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[unwrittenlibrary]

i know, you know.

summary -> bucky would die for you, but that’s not what you want from him.

words -> 1.7k

warnings -> light angst & near death & use of nickname (sweets)

notes -> i started game of thrones & i am obsessed with the idea of medieval bucky now so add that to my wips list

»»————-　☾　————-««

Bucky has no sense of self preservation.

You’re unsure if it’s because when he was a boy he was sent to war where it wasn’t a when you come home, it was an if. Or maybe because he’s lived so long he doesn’t feel like he needs to worry about life.

At first Bucky’s martyr-like care for you had made your pulse race. Throwing himself in front of punches thrown your way and saving you from bullets by reaching out his metal arm.

Then you realized he never thought things through. He just threw himself into harms way without worrying about whether or not he would survive the action.

You’ve learned all this within the two years you’ve known him. He’s become your best friend. Something more than that too. Shared stares and secret kisses that leave your heart fluttering and skin heating.

You love him, the kind of love that bubbles under the surface of kind smiles and more than friendly touches.

The kind that leaves your leg shaking as you sit beside him now, because Bucky Barnes has been asleep for three days.

A bullet had tore through his chest and left him gasping for air and bleeding out at your feet. You had dropped beside him to your knees after sending a bullet through the attackers chest.

“Sam, you’ve got to get us out of here.” You gasp into your comms. “Bucky’s hurt.” Your hands come to rest over the wound and you press harshly against them.

You look around in panic. “You idiot.” You mumble to him. Bucky’s blinking slowly and is obviously in a daze as he tries to focus on you leaning over him. “

“I’ll die before I let someone hurt you.” Bucky whispers. Your hands are stained red and Bucky’s eyes slide shut again after he breathes the words out. You let out a choked cry as you stare down at him.

“He’ll be okay.” Sam’s hand is resting on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. “Bucky is a fighter.”

You shake him off. “Bucky is an idiot.” You snap. Your eyes trail over his chest that’s rising and falling steadily.

‘He’s lucky.’ The doctor’s words come to your mind. ‘If it weren’t for that serum he most likely would have bled out in the field.’

You can’t stop thinking about the scene. The tips of your fingers are still stained red, the blood stubbornly refusing to wash away and remains a constant reminder of Bucky’s words in the field.

“Bucky is an idiot with no self preservation.” You start again. The words that had been caught in your throat the past three days come tumbling out like vile. “He’s selfish and doesn’t have any remorse for his choices or any idea what his actions may do to the people who care about him.”

You look at Bucky again. He doesn’t stir. His chest is still rising and falling steadily while his eyes remain closed. “I’m going to get a drink.” You push your chair our abruptly. Sam jumps away from you as you shove past him.

Guilt weighs you down immediately. You hadn’t meant to snap at Sam and you certainly didn’t mean all you said about Bucky.

It’s just - Bucky isn’t supposed to look like that. You had never seen him look so vulnerable. His skin pale and body completely immobile as he sleeps.

It has you panicking. Bucky, your Bucky, was strong and unmoving in a way that left enemies shaking. He had an aura that made you feel warm and confident with him by your side.

The hospital walls are a blank white that leave you simultaneously nauseous and comforted as you rest your back against it and shut your eyes.

Nobody stops to ask if you were okay or if you needed help, many of them too busy or preoccupied with actual patients. It was relieving to be able to have a moment of silence with nothing in your thoughts but what may be going on with the people you watched moves throughout the hospital.

How many were visitors there for a similar reason to yours? How many regular patients or who was a favorite nurse?

Sam’s voice makes you straighten out when you hear your name. You look at him apologetically, but before you can get the words out, he cuts you off. “Bucky’s awake.”

You pause. “Just like that?” You ask dumbly. You knew that this is what would happen. The doctor had explained that Bucky had been placed in an induced coma so his body could heal on it’s own and that he would wake up on his own time.

After three days though, you can’t imagine looking into Bucky’s eyes. You don’t know how to after seeing him so close to death.

“Just like that.” Sam says kindly. “I told you he was a fighter.”

You swallow thickly in an attempt to hold back tears. “I don’t… I’ll be in there soon.” You settle against the wall again.

Softly, Sam speaks, “Soon? He’s asking for you.” He tilts his head in an attempt to get you to look at him, but your eyes stay stuck to the ground. “Nobody ever said Bucky wasn’t an idiot, but he’s an idiot who cares. About you.”

“He can care about me without trying to kill himself!” You exclaim. You shoot an apologetic look toward the nurses who glance over at your voice.

There’s a beat of silence before Sam sighs. “He can. But how is supposed to know that? All Bucky has known is war, maybe in some way saving you from violence is all he knows how to do to show he cares.”

You look away again before you heave out a sigh. Your mind is a scrambled mess of panic, stress and exhaustion. All you want is to go home and forget any of this ever happened.

“I’ll give you some time.” Sam presses a reassuring kiss to the top of your head. “Just talk to him, yeah?”

You nod reluctantly. “I will.” When you don’t move, Sam raises his eyebrows. “Just… Give me a second.” When Sam leaves you in the hallway again, you suck in a deep breath in preparation.

<- ☾ ->

“Sweets.” Bucky smiles softly when he spots you in the doorway. “Been wondering where you were.”

You look him over like you’re expecting to see him covered in blood again. “Needed some air.” You answer curtly.

Bucky watches you quietly as you move further into the room. “Something wrong?”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” You avoid answering the question. Bucky notices you pause at the end of his bed and stares with furrowed brows.

When you don’t say anything else he forces out an awkward chuckle. “I’m always gonna be okay, sweets.”

“That’s not true.” You snap. You heave in a breath as Bucky watches with wide eyes. “You don’t get to just… Just wake up and be fine.”

“I am fine.” Bucky waves his hands out in front of him as if to show you. You shake your head in disbelief. “What? I am!”

“Your blood was on my hands!” You yell, shocking Bucky into silence. “You were bleeding out! Bucky, I had to watch you almost die in my arms. You don’t… You don’t get to sit here and just say you’re fine.”

“Sweets…” Bucky trails off. His eyes move over you like you’re a wild animal and he’s afraid you’ll pounce. It makes you even more upset that you look like the irrational one here.

You look away. “You were bleeding out and there was nothing I could do but watch. I can’t… I can’t do that again.”

“What am I supposed to do?” His voice raises and you know it’s so you’ll look over at him again. “Just let them hurt you?”

There’s a moment of tense silence before you nod. “Yes.”

“I’m not doing that. I can’t and I won’t.” Bucky’s shaking his head wildly at the thought of you getting hurt. “That’s not an option.”

You scoff. You’re still standing at the end of his bed and you can’t bring yourself to move closer. Not with how angry you are at him. “What is this self-sacrificial bullshit? Who does it help?”

“You!” Bucky yells. You’re almost afraid somebody will come in to check on him and find the two of you in the midst of a fight. “I’d rather be in this bed than see you in it.”

You let out a humorless laugh, but it just ends up as an exhausted sigh. “I can’t lose you, Bucky.” You finally admit in a whisper. “I can’t… I need you here, alive.”

Bucky’s eyes soften as you looks you over. “Come here.” Your eyes grow teary as he opens his arms for you crawl in beside him. “Please, sweets. Come lay with me.”

“Bucky…” You sniffle as the beginning of a sentence trails off. You move quickly to lay beside him, careful of the wires. “I don’t want you to die for me.”

His hand runs up and down your arm as your head rests on his shoulder. “This life. My life. It’s been full of violence, I just want to protect you from it.”

“You can protect me without almost dying. I won’t watch you do this again.” You look up at him sadly, the sound of his monitor beeping steadily somehow helps you breathe calmer as you push the words out. “If you want me in your life, you’ll give up this self-sacrificing bullshit.”

Bucky shifts so he can look down at you. “What else should I do?”

“Let me fight on my own. Have faith that I can handle myself.” Your hand trails down to intertwine with his. “If I… If I ever got hurt in the field like this, I’d rather you fight for me than die for me.”

Bucky inhales sharply. “I do have faith in you.” His left hand comes up to rest on your cheek and turn you eyes to face him again. “I know you’re a good fighter. I just… I…”

“I know.” You agree. The words are clear in his eyes and the nervous smile on his face. “I just need you to promise me, no more being a martyr. I don’t need anything else right now.”

Bucky’s thumb gently runs over your cheek bone. “I promise to try.” You allow your eyes to shut as Bucky leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

There are words unspoken between you two. Things that should be said and talked about, but it can wait. You’re content to lay with him, like this, for now.

»»————-　☾　————-««

notes -> just a short bucky piece while i work on my longer fics! next part of the survivor series should be out soon.

[lovelybarnes]

dog tags- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: breaking laws and doing crimes, mentions of cracking heads open and murder but it’s humor i swear (at least meant to be) about: PF12 "committing crimes" + DH8 "how dumb can you be?" a/n: reuploaded because posting from my computer is apparently different lol

“we’re going to get caught,” bucky taunts, and you frown, not looking at him as you concentrate on not falling and cracking your head open. “we are not going to get caught,” you respond once you’re on the ground, not sticking the landing and toppling over. cursing, you get up, and bucky shakes his head, jumping over the gate and landing gracefully. you scowl at him and he ignores you, “we’re going to go to jail,” he says negatively. you smack his shoulder in response, which does nothing to his super soldier self but makes you feel better. “we are not going to jail, god-”

bucky’s hand is suddenly over your mouth, muffling your words, and you flail as he practically manhandles you to behind a shrub. he shushes you as a woman walks out of the house, car keys dangling from her fingers as her other hand pulls open her car door, phone shoved between the crook of her neck. she’s muttering angry words into the phone, too distracted to note the build of bucky’s six foot one self and you, pressed up against bucky.

bucky waits until she’s gone for a minute to let you go, and you wipe at your mouth, “when was the last time you washed your hands, that’s disgusti-”

he cuts you off with a frustrated whisper, “you said she’d be gone by now. if it had been just you, you’d be arrested by now!” you shrug, peeking above the leaves before standing fully. bucky pulls you back down again, making you yelp. “ow-”

“shut up, if anything else goes wrong or contradicts your information, i’m leaving,” he promises, and you shrug, rolling your shoulders. “i don’t need your help, anyways. you’re the one who just followed me.”

bucky’s eyes thin, “to make sure you didn’t die- do you know how many times i’ve had to pull you out of some near death situation?”

you shrug, “i was handling it.” bucky breathes in and counts to three, shutting his eyes for a second- a second- and when he opens them, you’re at the house’s front porch, tiptoeing like an idiot into the house and leaving the door open. how the hell are you an avenger?

he huffs angrily as he goes inside the house, thankful for the privacy gate surrounding the house. shutting the door, his eyes nearly pop out of his head. you’re snooping in a cabinet, a huge dog you don’t seem to notice growling at you.

he stops, trying to look at you as loudly as possible. it’s only when you drop a file and he wonders for the eighth time today how he can possibly be in love with you that you notice him. “oh, bucky, you finally came in-”

“there’s a dog,” he cuts you off, trying to calculate his moves so that the drooling thing won’t attack either of you and ruin this idiotic mission you seem to be set on. “really?! i didn’t-” you stop yourself, remembering his past words. “i knew that. i have a plan for that,” you lie. you’re moving your hands, and the dog only seems to get more agitated, and all bucky wants to do is make you stop moving so your arm doesn’t get bitten off, but an actual idea seems to come to you and you turn, crouching down to the dog.

bucky eyes widen as you make the incredibly sudden movement of spinning and he feels like attacking you. in all of your years of being careless have you ever been so stupid. he’s frozen for a second, and he expects to be drawn out by growls and penitent shrieks, not your voice, higher pitched than usual, babbling about good boys. he blinks, startled to see your hands scratching behind the dog’s ears, baby talking to it, “who’s a good boy, huh? protecting the house from evil intruders, you are, yes!” the dog seems to be enjoying your attention, head nuzzling into your hand.

what the fuck.

you hum quietly, ignoring bucky when he pushes you with his foot, and he squints at the dog when it growls the moment he comes in contact with you. “fellow evil intruder, she’s gonna be back at some point. leave the thing alone.”

you glare at him, petting the dog’s head one more time. “brutus is not a thing, bucky. and she’s not going to be back for at least another hour. i made sure emily had her boyfriend wrapped around her finger,” bucky’s eyes narrow, “how do you know she won’t come back?” he tested.

“i told her to casually mention a new hotel opening for when they make up,” you shrug, but stand anyways as his face contorts. “what are we looking for, anyways?” bucky asks as you look in between books and couch cushions, humming distractedly. “don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, buck.”

bucky’s cheeks heat up without his permission, and he shakes it off, following you as you head into another room, the dog trailing after you as well, curious.

“y/n, you kind of need to tell me so i can help you find it,” bucky reminds. you ignore him, throwing random items over your shoulder. he catches all of them amidst his frustration, “how dumb are you?- you’re going to break these and they’ll know we were in here and we’ll-”

“go to jail, yes i know, yada yada yada,” you say distractedly, grumbling as you kick a chair. “i’m going to look in the other room,” you say and take off, leaving a grumpy bucky to organize the objects you’d left him.

bucky still hasn’t finished when you get to the next room, and after a quick scan, you can tell it’ll be your last. you ha, immediately recognizing the safe covered by a hideous painting. you pull it off easily, leaning it carefully against the wall. you count silently while you unlock the safe, laughing in triumph when you beat natasha’s record, and remind yourself to tell her when you get back. rifling around in the safe, you find what you’re looking for quickly, a small smile settling on your face as you tuck it away. your hands are in the safe again, fingers searching for something shiny to throw in sam’s face when bucky bursts in, “they’re here.”

you curse, taking your hands out and beginning to close the safe, bucky shoving you aside to do it himself, much quicker. he’s walking out the door, pausing when he notices you crouching down. “y/n, we have a minute to get out of here.”

you nod, “i know, just-” you hang the painting where it had resided before, standing back to squint at it and straightening it. “there,” you whisper, and then bucky’s pulling you by the hand, eventually throwing you over his shoulder when you decide to give up trying to run with him.

bucky manages to squeeze both of you through the barely open gate without being seen, and he’s huffing when he puts you down. “i thought you had extremely high stamina or something,” you tease, and bucky glares at you. you shrug innocently, grabbing his hand, “c’mon, let’s go home.”

bucky peers at you, “what?”

“we’re going home, i’m tired and hungry. do you think we can stop by mcdonalds or something?” you ask, tugging his hand as you walk in the compound’s direction. “breaking and entering really wears me out.”

“and that’s not even including how stressed you seemed to be,” bucky remarks sarcastically, and you nod, “exactly.” bucky pauses his movements, and you groan, pulling at him. “bucky,” you drag out, but he quiets you. “what was it you needed so badly?” he asks. 

your eyes slant, biting your lip in contemplation. “i’ll tell you if you give me a piggyback ride,” you bribe after a moment, and bucky rolls his eyes but crouches down, back to you. before getting on, you reach into the pouch on your suit, taking out the chain and wrapping it around your fingers delicately. you jump on bucky’s back right after, making sure to be careful with the item in your hand.

bucky’s walking now, and you lean your head on his, drawing letters with your free fingers on bucky’s chest. “so, what is it?” bucky asks, and you trace the tags in your hand with your thumb. “you remember how disappointed you were when you came back and your dog tags had been auctioned off?” you query quietly, and feel bucky nod beneath you. “well, i found out who bought them a month ago and asked them if i could buy it back from them. they said no, because of stupid reasons and called you things that i could’ve murdered them right then and there for-”

bucky can tell what you’re talking about and looks down, “y/n,” he mutters, and you cut yourself off, “right- anyways, so i tracked them down and since they rejected the first offer, i did the obvious thing: break into their house to get it back,” you say like it’s obvious, “it’s not like it’s theirs, anyways.”

“wait, you- you did all this to get my dog tags?” bucky asks, stopping to put you down. you whine, “yes, why’d you put me down-”

bucky’s arms are around you and pulling you to him before you can finish. you’re taken aback before hugging him back, kissing his shoulder. “thank you,” he mumbles, “i’m sorry you didn’t get it back after you went through all that trouble.”

you pull away, “you think i didn’t get it?” you show him your hand, dog tags dangling, “your faith in me is shocking.” bucky grabs the tags, his fingers skimming over the words. “i can’t believe you did this for me.”

“i love you, doll,” bucky replies, pressing a kiss to your lips and remembering this. this is why i’m in love with you.

“of course,” you say softly, “i love you, buck.”

[starlightstevie]

fics rec / march 2021

Hello again! Here are my favourite fics from the past month - I enjoyed reading these so MUCH and I hope you guys do too!

(* is smut)

Fuck it I’m recommending this again this month because Kait’s cowboy!Thor series is just THAT good and everyone needs this country boy in their life:

*I Need A Hero by @inthorantine​ Masterlist Cowboy!Thor: After Y/N finds out that her late grandfather has willed his rural Montana ranch to her, she decides it’s time for a little change of scenery. At least until it’s in a condition to sell. Along the way, Y/N finds a renewed appreciation for hard work, new friends, and possibly even love. She has the land. Can Thor help make it a home?

*saints can’t help me now by @peachyteabuck Forest god!Thor x reader: I will tell you the mystery of the woman and of the beast that carries her, whose name has not been written in the book of life from the foundation of the world. Kings give their power and authority to the beast, and those who are with him are the called and chosen and faithful.

and with that shadow upon the ground, i hear my people screaming out by @blackberrybucky Thor x reader: You're on the ship when Thanos comes aboard.

*Warm Water by @xbuchananbarnes Thor x reader: Reader takes a bath after a long day.

*h/c: dom!thor by @thorsthot​

Imagine: Thor smells like a storm by @wandas-sunshine​

*Somnus by @sweeterthanthis​ Nomad!Steve x reader: On the rare occasion that you have him in your bed, you savor every last minute. Even while he sleeps.

*Morning Wood by @angrythingstarlight​ Nomad!Steve x reader: Your new neighbor Steve gives you more than one surprise in the morning.

Good Kind of Trouble by @all1e23​ Biker!Stever x reader: Steve finally meets his cute neighbor. She’s not impressed.

*h/c: the way steve fucks by @helahades​

*Cock Worship by @ozarkthedog​ Andy Barber x reader: You take care of an exhausted Andy.

*illicit affair by @feliciahardyn​ Professor!Andy Barber x reader: You had been crushing on your sexy professor, Andy Barber since the beginning of the semester but he made it hard for you to focus in class. Lucky for you, he was willing to give you the best lesson in your life though.

if it’s not you, it’s not anyone by @blackberrybucky Bucky x reader: Bucky comes back from the snap and his world is shattered.

*West Coast Turnaround by @moteldwelling​ Trucker!Bucky x reader: Bucky Barnes is six foot of surliness driving his eighteen-wheeler across truck stop America. Reader just so happens to have a working thumb. There’s one bed.

Let Me Protect You by @littleredstarfish​ Bucky x reader: He's strong but he still needs protection.

deny (with love) my labor by @divine-mistake Bucky x reader: “I’m here,” you sob, hand shaking. “I’m right here, Bucky. I’m here. I’m here. Bucky, please. I’m here. Please don’t leave me. I’m here. I’m right here.” Or, five times Bucky Barnes has a nightmare, and one time you do.

The World’s A Little Blurry by @summergrls​ Masterlist Bucky x reader: Glimpses into a (mostly) quiet life with the Winter Soldier.

*Oasis by @bubblebucky Bucky x reader: It’s your first time with Bucky, and Bucky’s first time in 80 years.

call it fate, call it karma by @belladonnabarnes Bucky x reader: Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard.

*bucky convinces you to sit on his face by @bunnywritesmarvel

*Chaste by @tiffdawg​ Mando x reader: It’s tradition for couples not to have sex once a marriage promise is made. Not until the wedding night.

*way down we go by @goldafterglow Mando x reader: Din is made of mismatched shards that you bind together - until you want to watch them fall apart.

*kneel at my alter by @filthybookworm Mando x reader: I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion.

*I’m not gonna touch you until you beg by @mxsamwilson

*dripping by @cptnbvcks Javi x reader: Javi brings you something to take the edge off during one of colombia’s heatwaves

*What It Is You Do (To Me) by @filthybookworm​ Javi x reader: He’s never mentioned a vest before, is all you can think, mouth parting as your tongue drags across your lower lip in an unconscious expression of desire. What is it, you wonder, that makes it look so good?

*Dinner & Diatribes by mxsamwilson Oberyn Martell x black!reader: Oberyn catches your eye from across the room and holds your gaze. His deep eyes swallow you whole, burn straight through you like twin flames, and you’re falling into him once again. Helpless.

*one single thread of gold tied to you by @spacelabrathor​ Alpha!Deku x Omega!reader: Pro Hero Deku is a frequent visitor at your support lab and you're grateful for it. He's one of your high profile clients and his quirk is strong enough that he has to come for suit repairs near twice a month. It helps that he's one of the most bearable alphas you've ever met, affable and kind, and he never judges you for being a rare omega in the hero line of work. It also helps that he's painfully, absurdly hot. You're perhaps never more grateful for his nature than when the building housing your lab collapses with the two of you in it, and as the walls and floors of your lab crumble, so does the suppressor device that keeps your heats in check and your hormones under control. As the dust settles, you realize you are trapped by rubble and dust and twisted metal with perhaps the only alpha alive that you trust, as your adrenaline surges and your carefully suppressed heat cycle comes roaring to life.

baby mine, don’t you cry by @kaitsukibakugo​ Deku x reader: A quiet early morning moment between Reader and Deku and their newborn baby.

*you’re such a good girl for me by @rat-suki​

*dilf!Deku by @sems-diarie​

*more dilf!Deku by sems-diarie

*wreck my plans (that’s my man) by @spacelabrathor Bakugo x reader: You inform Bakugo that he's a control freak who can't cede control in any area of his life for any reason, and, because he's Bakugo, he immediately, furiously rises to the challenge.

*Thin Walls by @rat-suki Bakugo x reader: Katsuki’s loud, obnoxiously so. And you’re the one who has to deal with it.

*all through the night by @some-kindofgnome​ Bakugo x reader: You and Bakugo have chased a villain far out of the city- too far to make it back for the night. You find somewhere decent to bed down, but there’s a little problem with your room.

*imagine bakugo easing into you, no prep by @sems-diarie

Soon to be dad!Bakugo by @luciilferss​

Subtlety is my middle name by luciilferss

Pro hero Bakugo taking care of you by luciilferss

mean!Bakugo has a soft spot for you by @ihatebnha​

*Bakugo with a pillow princess girlfriend by @hanji-is-life​

*Dumb slut Bakugo by @ihatebnha

*villian!Bakugo takes you in an alleyway by @lookslikeleese​

*the folly of man by @dymphnasprose Todoroki x reader: Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss.

*toshinori as a lover by @spacelabrathor​

at my worst by @hiiraya Wanda Maximoff x reader: Slow dancing in the kitchen with Wanda.

wanda + pianist au by @helahades

Fireman Sam by @buckysknifecollection Firefighter!Sam Wilson x reader: You visit the local police station and catch the eye of a certain firefighter.

*size kink with geralt by @lovely-cryptid​

*Heat by fettsvette Boba Fett x reader: Set after the second season of The Mandalorian. Boba Fett takes you on a faraway hunt that involves a prolonged journey through hyperspace. You’re horny as fuck, but your man is too preoccupied with running a tight ship to pay you any mind - until things get a little too desperate.

[lunarbuck]

i carry your heart (i carry it in your heart)

moodboard is just for vibes, not what reader looks like!

14. Petrichor

Pairing: Guard!Bucky x Princess!reader

WC: 3.3k

Sneak Peek: The first time I saw her, I knew she'd be the death of me. That smile, those eyes. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep from falling for her

Warnings/Tags: light swearing, fluff

series masterlist ☁ / ao3

AN: I'm sorry that last chapter was a trainwreck, I promise this one is better lol

please let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist!

Chapter 13 / Chapter 15

James

I hold her. I bury my nose in her hair and try to keep my hands from shaking. After Steven got her off the balcony, I didn't know where he had taken her. I focused on Loki and Rumlow, but I could feel that connection to her the entire time, telling me where she was.

Now, having her in my arms, that connection feels even more potent. I can tell that she's still under Loki's spell; she isn't responsive at all. It's as if she's just floating while we're all living. I have no idea how to make it better. Loki won't give any answers; he's seemingly lost the ability to speak. Rumlow is no help, so I've sent Sam and Steven to look for answers. I'm not sure where we'll find them or if we even will. I didn't even know about the existence of magic until all of this shit with Loki.

Y/N stirs in my arms, and for a moment, she seems like she's seen me. When my eyes catch hers, she stares straight through me. The King approaches, and I can't hide her from him. He runs his hand along her hair, then leans down and presses a kiss to the crown of her head.

"I'm dealing with Loki and Rumlow," he says to me, still staring down at his daughter. Concern swims in his eyes, but he understands that there's nothing we can do right now.

"We'll get her back," I say, squeezing one of the Princess's hands. The King glances down at where I'm touching his daughter, and for a moment, his gaze hardens.

"I appreciate you saving her, James." His voice is strained; it's easy to tell that he doesn't truly believe in my love for the Princess, and he doesn't have faith in Sam's willingness to help Astrines. I try not to show how much his disapproval hurts; I want him to see how much I care for Y/N. How much I love her.

"I would never let her stay in a place like that," I reply quietly. I watch the King's eyes search mine, and I bare my soul to him. "She's the one for me, Sir. I know you have your doubts, and you don't trust me with her heart, but I will spend every day for the rest of my life proving to you how much I love her." He stares at me with wide eyes. He wasn't expecting me to say something so bold. "If you'll let me, I'll give her all of the love she deserves."

Rain thunders against the window behind me, and I think back to the night on the beach. The way we danced, clothes soaked. Before that night, I'd never felt so calm. Being with Y/N feels right. Even now, as I hold her in my arms, despite the fact that she's under some fucked up spell, it feels right. I know she's safe, she's with me, and I won't let anything happen to her ever again.

"It's not that I don't trust you, James. I wouldn't keep you as her guard if I didn't trust you. She's just all I have left, and I don't know how to let her go. I don't want her getting her heart broken by the first boy she thinks she loves." His words hurt, but I don't show it on my face. With nothing more to say, the King walks away from me. I try not to dwell on what he said and instead focus on the Princess.

Sam and Steven come back to me with nothing, no new ideas, no revelations. The only advice they have is just to ride it out and see if she comes to, but I can't just sit here and do nothing. I refuse to. I run my fingers through Y/N's hair and rub her scalp, something she's always liked, but she doesn't react.

Outside, the rain comes down harder and harder, and I get an idea.

I carry her out onto the front steps of the palace. We are still covered, but the smell of rain envelops us. Her foggy eyes shift, lazily observing her surroundings, but she doesn't focus on anything. I just want her to say something, anything. But she doesn't. Instead, I fill the silence with my words. I tell her about how much I regret letting Loki control me to the point of leaving her. Even though she doesn't ask me to, I tell her about how much I want her to come back to me. I miss her voice, her bright laughter. It's strange to have her in my arms knowing that she's so far away.

I speak until I have nothing left to say. I stare out at the rain. The moon shines brightly and illuminates the property. It's beautiful. The Princess shifts in my arms, and she begins to pull away. Her eyes are set on a spot far away, and she walks down the steps into the rain. I follow a few steps behind, ready to catch her if she falls. Y/N walks to the center of the clearing before she stops and stares up at the sky. Her hair is soaked, it sticks to her neck and face, but she doesn't care. Usually, the rain makes her so happy, but her beautiful smile doesn't make an appearance. Instead, her brows are twisted up, and she looks like she's in pain. Her eyes flicker in the moonlight, and I see her fighting something within herself. I'm not sure if she's winning.

Thunder claps in the distance, and I hear someone call my name from the palace. When I turn, I see it's her father. I raise my hand, indicating I hear him, and reach for the Princess. My hand makes contact with her, and an idea shoots into my head. It's stupid and probably won't work, but I manage to convince myself that it's worth a shot.

"Y/N," I say, squeezing her hand. Slowly, her eyes find mine, and I see no recognition. I close the distance between us and bring my hands to cup her face. "I need you to come back to me. I need you." My words are quiet, and my breath fans over her face. Shivers erupt on her skin; her dress is soaked and surely ruined. I unclip the collar-like necklace and drop it from her neck. It lands with a thud in the grass, but neither of us looks down at it.

"James!" The King calls again. His voice is louder this time; he's coming toward us. It's now or never. Before I can think about how stupid of an idea it is, I lean in and kiss her. My fingers tangle in her hair, and my nose presses harshly into her cheek but having her so close to me feels right.

I lean my forehead against hers, but I don't have the heart to open my eyes. What if I do, and all I see is that foggy look? What if it didn't work? Why would it? It was a stupid idea and –

She presses her lips to mine, and her hands press my chest. I gasp and wrap my arms around her, pulling her even closer against my body. I lift her and smile into the kiss. She laughs, and it knocks the air from my lungs.

"Bucky." I finally open my eyes, and there she is, my beautiful Princess. She smiles down at me, but I see the tears fall down her cheeks. "I love you," she whispers, lips brushing mine. I don't know what I've done to deserve her. To deserve her love. Before her, I didn't believe in fate or true love or any of the fairytale shit. It's strange how someone can change you so much so quickly. The first time I saw her, I knew she'd be the death of me. That smile, those eyes. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep from falling for her.

The night we kissed on the balcony at the ball, I knew I loved her. I fell in love with the way she speaks, her passion for who and what she loves. She slipped through the cracks in the walls I've built over the years and went straight for my heart. I didn't even put up a fight, I let her in, and I'm a better man for it.

"Buck," she whispers again, bringing me back to the moment.

"Marry me," I say before I can stop myself. Her eyes go wide, and for a moment, I worry that I shouldn't have said anything. She shakes her head, and my heart stops, but she kisses me again, and I know I have her.

"Nothing would make me happier," she says through a laugh. Warmth spreads through my chest, and I kiss her again, spinning us around. Her waterlogged dress is heavy, but I pay it no mind. Nothing can ruin this moment.

"James," the King says quietly. I feel his presence behind me as I set Y/N down, and her gaze flickers to her father. I turn, and he stares at his daughter with amazement. She squeezes my hand before stepping toward the King and hugging him. I've never seen them be so affectionate. "How did you– what happened?"

"He broke the spell, father. James did." The King looks to me, eyes full of bewilderment and shock. He silently asks for more details, and the Princess notices. "He kissed me, father."

True love's kiss.

"That's impossible," he says, eyes flicking between his daughter and me. Y/N turns and looks at me, and I know he's wrong. Nothing is impossible anymore, not with her. I never thought I'd fall in love, feel so deeply for another that I would be able to call it 'true love'. Before, it truly did feel impossible. Now, as Y/N stares up at me with those bright eyes and her beautiful smile, I scold myself for ever doubting.

"I love her," I say, a grin upon my lips. The words are easy; they taste sweet. "I love her."

Princess

"I love her," he repeats. The words hit your ears, and you swear you've never heard anything more beautiful. Your father's jaw hangs open, and you set a hand on his arm.

"Father, please," you say. You're not begging him to accept Bucky's feelings for you, instead just asking him to give the two of you a chance. It's the least he can do after everything you've been through.

The feeling of clarity now that the spell is broken fills you with something you can't quite name, but it feels like everything is right in the world. Nothing can harm you now. You feel strong. With one hand still on your father, your other hand reaches for Bucky's. He intertwines his fingers with yours, and warmth blooms in your chest.

You lift your eyes to the sky and feel the rain fall on your skin. Silence falls between the three of you, and all you hear is the rain. You've always loved the rain. A smile creeps onto your face as you allow the droplets to cleanse you of Loki's magic. Your fingers tingle, partly from how cold you are and partly from regaining control of your body.

"Okay," your father whispers. Though he only says one word, you smile at him. He's trying. After a few more moments of staring up at the sky, the three of you begin the walk back toward the palace. Your father hugs you before heading to his chambers, leaving you and Bucky with the promise of a conversation the following day about what's next.

Bucky walks you up to your room, but you don't go inside right away. Instead, you linger in the doorway. You stare at your four-poster bed, the little table by the window. Everything is just as you'd left it except for your mother's copy of The Hobbit . Instead of laying on the table where you usually keep it, you spot it on the chest at the end of your bed. A handkerchief sits between the pages, acting as a bookmark.

You cross the threshold into your room and pick up the book. It falls open to the page with the handkerchief. You move the fabric and uncover the underlined words your mother had marked all those years ago. "There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world." Your mother's notes in the margin beside it are faded, but you run your thumb over them nonetheless.

"I was reading it while you were gone," Bucky says quietly from behind you. "Your father couldn't deal with my restlessness and sent me away while he discussed options. I came up here and found the book, and I couldn't help myself. I read it twice." He steps closer, and you instantly warm from his presence, though you shiver a moment later from your wet hair and dress.

"And what did you think?" You turn and look up into his beautiful blue eyes. He gives you that boyish grin and leans in to kiss your forehead sweetly.

"I loved it." You tilt your head back and meet his lips with yours. The kiss is slow at first, loving and kind, but it becomes more heated as it progresses. Bucky's hands grip you tightly, and you turn in his grip, wrapping your arms around him to hold him closer. You allow yourself to get lost in him, in the feeling of his hands on you.

When the cold fabric of your dress finally makes its way back to the forefront of your mind, you pull away. Bucky whines a little at the loss of contact, and you huff out a laugh at him. He steals another kiss before his hands drift to your back, easily finding the lacing of your dress. You lease a sigh as a set of warm and cool fingers undo the ties and loosen the laces, allowing the dress to fall from your shoulders. Goosebumps erupt from your skin under his gaze; you've never been so bare before another person other than Winnie. Bucky peels the fabric away from your skin and steps away for a moment. Though the dress isn't laced up anymore, it still grips your chest and hips, so you don't have to hold it up on your own. A moment later, Bucky returns, and you feel the warm fabric of your robe on your skin. He rests it on your shoulders and helps you remove your dress the rest of the way before tying the robe around your waist.

You step out of the pooled fabric at your feet and turn to look at Bucky. You've never had someone take care out of you simply because they want to. The way Bucky looks at you now, the way he touches you is so kind. He's gentle and sweet.

"That better?" He asks, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, warming you. You nod and lean your head against his chest. His clothes are soaked as well, and you run your hands up his abdomen to his shoulders, pushing his jacket off his arms. He shrugs it to the ground then steps back to peel his shirt off. You've never seen him so intimately before.

He tenses for a moment under your gaze, but you reach out and place your hands on his chest, and he relaxes. Your eyes follow your fingers as they travel over his torso, along his ribs, over the scarred tissue in his shoulder. He's beautiful, carved from marble. Elegant and exquisite.

"Much," you whisper. He chuckles at your candor and shakes his head, wet strands fall into his face, but somehow it makes him look more beautiful. His metal hand rests on the small of your back as he walks you into the en suite bathroom. You lean against the sink while he runs a bath, adding your favorite oils to it. The smell of eucalyptus and lavender fills the air, and you breathe it in, letting it soothe you. When the bath reaches the right temperature, Bucky leads you over to it.

"I'll give you some privacy," he says, hugging you from behind. His words tickle your ear. "Goodni–"

"Stay," you interrupt. One of your hands grips his arm tightly to emphasize your point. After a long minute of silence passes before he speaks.

"You should bathe in private, but I will be in your room when you're done." You relax your hold on his arm and nod. When he exits the bathroom, you settle into the warm water, allowing your muscles to release their tension. Your thoughts don't swim with anxiety for the first time in days.

When you emerge from the bathroom, robe wrapped comfortably around your body. Bucky sits at the little table by the window, staring out into the dark. The rain has subsided to a light drizzle, and the clouds have started to part. You walk over to Bucky and comb your fingers through the tangles in his hair.

"You proposed," you say, laughing to yourself as the words hit your ears. Part of you doesn't believe it really happened, you'll wake up in a moment, and it will have all been a dream. Bucky turns in the chair and pulls you into his lap, so your face lines up with his.

"Indeed I did," he replies with a bright smile on his face. "I'm sorry it wasn't very romantic; it just felt right." You grin and shake your head. It was the perfect proposal. You didn't need anything flashy or fancy. His rainy proposal was perfect for your relationship with Bucky.

"It was the most romantic thing I've ever experienced, Bucky," you say as you press a kiss to his forehead. "I love you so much." Your words are quiet, but they fill your room. Bucky presses a few kisses to your lips before picking you up and carrying you over to your bed. He sets you down lightly, then kneels down in front of you.

"Well, I think we missed a step," he says, reaching into his pocket. Your heart flutters in your chest at the sight of him in front of you. Bucky pulls out a little velvet box and pops it open. A silver band with flowers carved into it sits inside; it's simple but gorgeous. He takes the ring out of the box and holds your hand, swiping his thumb over your finger. You're not sure when it happened, but Loki's engagement ring no longer sits on your finger.

"Bucky," you whisper, staring down at the man in front of you. The blue of his eyes shines so brightly that it's nearly blinding. The smile on his face fills you with warmth, but he shakes his head so that you don't say anything else.

"You are my sun, my moon, and my sky, Y/N. You are the air I breathe. Now that I have you in my life, I don't know how to go back to living without you. I know I'm not a prince, I don't have a lot of money, and I can't offer you everything your suitors can. But what I can give you is my love. I have never loved anything as much as I love you. Will you marry me?" A few tears slip from your eyes, and you nod. You nod so quickly you're worried your head will fall off.

"Of course, I will, Bucky." Even before the words leave your lips, he's slipping the ring onto your finger. It fits perfectly, and as he settles it against your knuckle, he presses a kiss to the top of your hand.

"I love you," he whispers against your skin. You lean down and rest your lips against the top of his head, letting his hair tickle your nose.

"I love you."

Here's the ring!

The Hobbit Quote

Tagged: @sharksandtea @itsthemaree @peaches1958 @thegirlnextdoorssister

divider by: @skylightlantern

[fatbiatchforever]

New year things.

Happy new year! Hope the second day of the year is going moderately well.

“Happy new year, guys.” Bucky waved as Sam descended down the stairs with the boys and my siblings in tow. Sarah pulls me into a hug, “Thank you for having us.”

“Of course. You need a break from being the host too.”

Sarah giggles, “Both of you make great hosts.”

Bucky and I beam proudly and high-five each other. My mom and dad laugh and Sarah joins them.

Mom points to the cluttered kitchen behind us, “Are you sure you don’t want help cleaning up?”

“We’ve got it, mom. Right, Y/N?” Bucky turns to me with his eyebrows raised. “Yeah. Don’t worry. Besides, tell me a better way to start the year?”

Sarah moves to the door, “Thanks again. I’m going to leave before Sam gets ‘I’m Captain America’ on me.” Bucky groans, stating his annoyance, as my dad moves to us, “Happy new year. Thanks for the dinner.” My dad hugs us both and my mom follows.

She whispers in my ears, “I can help with-“ I pull back, “Ma. Have more faith in us.”

She moves to Bucky and hugs him, “I have faith. More in you.” Bucky grins and looks at me, “Thank you.”

“I- It’s a new year, so I’m going to be nice about this,” I mutter.

We wave bye to everyone and close the door behind us. Bucky leans back on the door as I stand in front of him. Bucky’s smile causes his eyes to crinkle at the sides, “Happy new year.”

I move a step forward and curve my fingers around his belt and tug on them, “Happy new year.” Bucky lowers his lips to mine and gently tangles his fingers in my hair. Our lips entice into perfect sync as we take everything the other could offer. Everything felt right. Nothing in this world could ruin these moments, which were intimate. All that matters is that we’re here.

He slowly pulls away, gently stroking my hair. Bucky’s great at masking his emotions, but right now, there was nothing to hide. I could see how he felt. Feel how he felt. The crease-free forehead showed no sense of discomfort. The slightly hooded eyelids that hid the beautiful stormy blue eyes, which would usually throw daggers but now keeps you warm and produces endorphins when you look at them. Those pink lips with a well-formed Cupid’s bow display a hearty smile. When you look close enough, you see a tinge of smirk looming around.

I raise his hand from the side to my face and press a trail of kisses, “You have no clue how much I love you.” Bucky chuckles as he looks away for a moment and looks back at me. His lips curve into a shy smile. He pulls me with a good grip on the back of my head and connects his lips to my forehead, “You have no clue how much I love YOU.”

“Buck! That tickles.” He pushes his lips on my skin further and buzzes, “I love you, Y/N.” I circle my arms around his waist, “I love you, Bucky.” I grab his ass and knead them, “I love them too.”

Bucky erupts laughing. I move my head slightly back to look at his face, “Good. It’s all for you, doll.”

“YES! BEST YEAR ALREADY!”

Bucky’s laugh dies down and he whispers, “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“If you’re done groping me, we have things to clean up.”

I sigh really loud, “Fine. But, I’ll be never done groping you, understood?” Bucky nods, “Understood.” I look dead in his eyes and squeeze his butt cheeks again, “Y/N-” Bucky says with his voice his high, by a lot.

I take a step back, “Please, you like being woman-handled. Don’t be ashamed.”

Bucky’s eyebrows move up and his face moves slightly left, “And you like being manhandled.”

I roll my eyes, “Fine. We both like being handled.”

Bucky nods madly. Bucky stands beside me to look at the mess in front of us. Every inch of the kitchen counter was filled with plates and glasses. The sink had an OVERflowing amount of things in it, which definitely UNDERwhelmed us.

“NOT IT!” Bucky screams.

I look at him before realizing what he meant. My eyes widen and I point in his direction, “NO!”

Bucky walks forward and shrugs, “Those are the rules, doll. You need to clean the dishes and I’ll handle the rest.”

“Bucky!” I walk to the sink and pinpoint, “Minus the dishes, there's hardly anything.”

Bucky stacks the plates on the counter and rests his arms on the countertop, before leaning in, “Didn’t peg you for a sore loser.” All with a smirk on his face.

I huff and stand in front of the sink, “Fine.” I rub my head, “Let’s get this over with.”

I commence working on the mountain of dishes while Bucky adds more to it. Twenty minutes later, I still have many dishes to climb, “Last one, doll.” Bucky declares while keeping the wine glasses beside me.

“Good to know there’s an end to this.” Bucky kisses my cheek and starts cleaning up the table, “Three hours into the year and I’m already slaving. This year is clearly going to be amazing.”

Bucky stands on the other side and picks up the towel, “I know it's going to be amazing. So, what’re your new year's resolutions?”

I hand him a plate, “I don’t know. Wait, to finally get that promotion. I’m going to go all-in and they still don’t see it, then I’m done. And sign up for kickboxing.”

Bucky looked beyond surprised, “Kickboxing?”

I nod, “Honestly, I’ve always wanted to do it, but you know I procrastinate or I get busy. So, this year I’m going to make time for it.”

Bucky’s furrowed eyebrows don't go back. I laugh at his expression, “I can be active when I want to.” Bucky looks at the wall in front and smiles, “It’ll be cool.”

“Then I could kick your ass.” Bucky laughs, “That will be cool.” We look at each other and nod.

“Your new year's resolutions?” Bucky completely turns to me and slings the towel on his shoulder. He rests his hips on the edge of the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. Preoccupied with his thoughts, he scratches the gruff surrounding his chin.

“Read more books. Find a hobby. Try not to fight space aliens. Spend most of my time with you.”

My head drops to focus on the plate but that doesn’t stop the smile that forms on my face. Bucky grins and goes back to drying the dishes.

“Any ideas for the hobby?” Bucky simply shrugs, “No.”

I hum, “I mean, this is me just putting some ideas out there. You could try carpentry or take a pottery class. Or ooh, sculpting. I heard that’s pretty nice.”

Bucky clearly wasn’t sold on the ideas, “You really think I can do pottery with this?” He raises his metal palm and puts it in front of my face, “Not that, but I think carpentry or sculpting should be good.”

Bucky looks at me. For a second, his eyes droop down and the smile falters. When he saw me, he mustered a small smile, “I’m not good at art. That was always, Steve’s thing.”

I wipe my hands off and hold his hand. Bucky laughs dryly and averts his gaze, “I miss that punk.” I squeeze his hands and look him in his eyes, “He’s your best friend. That’s completely normal.” Bucky gently nods. He moves the strand of hair away from my face and tucks behind my ears, “Sculpting sounds interesting.” I start with the dishes again, “Right? If you actually like it, we could set up a corner for your stuff.” Bucky's eyes squint as he’s in thought and I continue, “You can’t take your time with it, no rush. The piece comes along when you feel ready for it.”

“Sounds like a good way to take things off my head.”

“Exactly.”

Bucky turns to me and nudges my shoulders with his, “Thanks for the idea.” I grin, “Anytime.” Bucky points to the sink, “You’re almost done.” I look at it and scream, “FINALLY!”

We finished the rest as fast as we could. I changed into a matching set of shorts and a t-shirt and jumped on the bed. “I’m not moving from this spot.” Bucky’s reply, while he was brushing, was incomprehensible. I got under the covers, when Bucky came back in his boxers, “Ready?” Just as I nod, he turns back and switches the light off. The room wasn’t completely dark because of the city lights. You could see Bucky’s sculpted frame making his way to the bed. He got inside the covers and threw his hand over my waist. I could hear the metal fingers whirring as he took the edge of my shirt in his fist. He moved my ponytail away and placed kisses along my neck. My eyes, like a trigger, shut together. I whisper a silent ‘I love you.’ The last thing I heard was, ‘Love you. It’s always you.’

[buckybarnesdiaries]

“Love's my religion but he was my faith, something so sacred, so hard to replace. Fallin' for him was like fallin' from grace”.

PART ONE. INDEX.

bucky barnes x reader ⎢ masterlist.

word count: ±1.4k.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

Four years had passed since you left New York to study in London. Your parents went to visit you every two months, but it wasn't the same. You missed your home, the rest of your family, your friends. England was pretty different from the USA in many aspects, so you couldn't wait to leave that city as soon as you were done with your final exams. Your father was supposed to visit you in the next few days, but you wanted to surprise him too by coming back home earlier.

You didn't tell anyone about your flight, taking a taxi outside the airport. Along the way, you were fascinated looking through the window. Your city hadn't changed too much, maybe a couple of shops and cafeterias, but that was everything. You couldn't help but sigh when you left the jungle of skyscrapers to Cold Spring, where you grew. A beautiful and small village with its own charm. Checking the time on your phone and finding some unread messages from your mother, you bite your lips with a soft grin on your lips imagining her face when she watched you there.

But before, you had to make a stop in your own house to leave your suitcase, have a shower and change your clothes. Yes, you would have preferred to have a quiet evening at your home, with your family, but James ‘Bucky’ Barnes was giving a party.

Oh, that man. Your first love. You knew him ever since, being the son of your father's best friend and, now, his associate. He had more than twelve years than you, but love didn't understand about age. And you were conscious that he felt something for you. Maybe attraction, maybe desire. Whatever was enough for you to keep alive the flame inside your heart. You weren't going to lie, you wanted, needed to see him after four years. Four long years without knowing anything about him more than what your father used to tell you about businesses and the presents Bucky used to send you on your birthday and Christmas with a short letter.

You didn't lose time in your task, getting ready to join the party in less than twenty minutes. Looking at your reflection in the mirror of your private bathroom, you couldn't help but feel butterflies fluttering within your belly, fantasizing about what he would do when he had you in front of his eyes. You were almost sweating, remembering how good it felt whenever he touched your hand slightly, or how his fingers gripped gently around your thigh sitting together —under the table. Bucky never crossed the limit since he wasn't an associate yet, but now he was the boss the story was pretty different.

The parking attendant took the keys of your car after opening the door for you and stepping out. You said thanks before taking a deep breath with a hand on your belly, trying to calm the nerves as you raised your eyes to the luxurious and ostentatious manor occupying completely your field of vision. The guests outside enjoying different kinds of conversations turned at you astonished but pleasantly surprised. You weren't the innocent girl that left that village four years ago anymore. You were a woman. A lawyer ready to take your throne. To take your place in the company. And you were stunning and radiant on your silk white dress with the back open and exposed.

Not wasting more time on being contemplated, you walked in swinging your hips sensually, calling everyone's attention. Your gaze traveled the place all around till they got bewitched by a pair of oceanic blue eyes among the crowd. Bucky was there between other men, listening to a conversation he wasn't interested in, with a glass of whisky close to his mouth. He took a sip, licking the flavor impregnated on his lips. For a reason you didn't understand, he didn't look surprised, nor curious to know how it was possible you were there. The smile that appeared on your face suddenly went down with disappointment, turning at the amazed tone of voice your father used to call you before embracing you into his arms.

The next hour, your parents introduced you to anyone who didn't meet you personally four years ago, making you feel out of place. Yes, you missed your home and your family, but Bucky's indifference broke your heart in a thousand pieces, glancing at him flirting with any women rattling his saber. Adoring him as if he was some kind of god. It was suffocating you to the point of watering your eyes. As soon as you could escape from the situation of your father showing you like a trophy, you went upstairs to the old library George Barnes owned, and where you used to spend a lot of time in your adolescence. It was a quiet room, soundproofed and packed with huge windows to the nearest forest. A view you liked to stare at in silence during autumn.

Walking inside and closing the door, you toured the hundreds of books thoroughly placed and conservated through the years, landing your fingers in an original version of Alice in Wonderland. You always felt like that, surrounded by people only moved and controlled by money. Money that gave you freedom for four long years in England, but the same that now was your sentence for life.

You couldn't help but shut your eyes when a fingertip traced your bare backbone, causing you goosebumps all over your skin. His strong scent flooded your lungs racing your pulse, as his closeness made jump your heart bout to fly off from your chest. You could recognize that touch between a million. The tenderness with he caressed you, the delicacy he had to admire your beautiful and warm skin.

“White makes you look like an angel”. Bucky whispered hoarsely into your ear, noticing him placing himself behind you.

You swallowed hard, keeping your lips parted while both hands found their way to your arms, pawing them down slowly till being laced with yours. Then, a fond kiss was placed on the back of your head. A sigh escaped his throat when he was able to sink his nose in your hair. The fruity, but subtle, smell dizzied him.

“Red…” He mumbled urging you to turn around and face him, stroking gently your bottom lip with his thumb when he had the opportunity. “Red makes you look like a dangerous weapon”.

“I've been both all my life, not needing clothes or makeup to demonstrate it”. You replied raising your chin in a proud gesture that caused him to chuckle.

“How many boys have kissed them?” Bucky wanted to know, shortening the distance between the two of you until he was practically melting with your body, wrapping his left arm around your lower back. His voice was so sensual that it made your legs feel weak.

But you didn't answer his question. No one. You didn't kiss anyone while you were in London. Barely neglecting your studies, only desiring to pass your exams and come back home to finish the last year of college in New York. You could swear that a lustful shine crossed fleetingly his pale blue eyes, trying to maintain his gaze while his thumb wandered down your throat, moving slowly between the gap of your neckline and enjoying how good it was to touch you again, continuing to your abdomen. Bucky urged you to rest your back against the library, bringing his lips closer to your ear at the moment his hands meet almost in your ass.

Shameless, he settled himself between your legs, leaving a kiss on the sweet spot behind your ear before tracing it with the tip of his nose. “So… you kept your promise”.

Your fingers got tangled strongly in the laps of his jacket when you remembered that precise instant before leaving your house four years ago.

September came with warm evenings and different kinds of orange, brown, and red decorating the trees all around Cold Spring. You were sitting on the grass of the back garden of your house, alone, drinking a glass of vodka. You knew how hard it was going to leave the place that gave you life, happiness, love. Bucky joined you without expecting it and gave you a bracelet made of white gold exactly like the one his father gave him for his eighteenth birthday, with the coordinates of his home —what took you some months to notice was that yours had his coordinates too—. And he asked you if you would wait for him all that time till you were back to his arms.

And there you were, with his lips tracing a path of sweet, loving kisses through your jawline. But they never touched yours, leaving you wanting more, needing him.

“Welcome home, doll”.

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[tolliver-shaw]

Bucky Boy

Summary: Y/N has a huge crush on Bucky. Her feelings become obvious when he walks her home from a party one night. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Explicit Language, Drug Use, Alcohol, Smut

Masterlist

You remembered the first time you had laid eyes on Bucky Barnes. You had moved into your dorm the day before. College was a fresh start, and you wanted to take things easy. No big parties and no boys until you had gotten yourself settled. Unfortunately, your roommate Natasha had different plans. She was a social butterfly and somehow had gotten invited to a big bonfire in the woods that weekend.

The two of you bonded over trying to follow the instructions that had been sent to Natasha. You shared the bottle of Malibu that Natasha had bought with her fake ID.

Your hesitance about the party immediately faded when you saw the large group of college freshmen around the bonfire. It seemed like everyone was just as alone as you felt. Before long, the alcohol took hold, and you were chatting with anyone and everyone. It was late in the night when you spotted him. Your eyes locked across the fire for what felt like an eternity. The eternity was quickly over, and he went back to dancing with the girl in front of him.

Over the next few months, you always saw Bucky the same way. A quick bit of eye contact until he went back to his girl of the night. It was without fail a different girl, and they were all beautiful. It wasn’t until October that you really got a chance to meet. You and Natasha had decided to have a chill night in with a few friends when her phone rang.

“Hey Y/N, do you mind if Bucky stops by?” Natasha had asked. She had no clue about your little crush on him and had never noticed the way you would watch him and his girl of the week. You had tried to play it cool and tell her you didn’t care. Now one of your best friends, she knew something was up.

That night you had learned Bucky lived in your building just a few floors above you, and he was roommates with Natasha’s fuckbuddy, Steve. He had no clue who you were, and you pretended that you didn’t know him. Luckily before you had the chance to embarrass yourself, he was gone to go meet some girl from Tinder.

After that night, it felt like you saw Bucky everywhere. He was in the elevator, at the dining hall, and at the library. A quick wave and a smile were all you ever shared.

The next real conversation came months later. It was February, Valentine’s Day weekend to be exact, and Natasha had been invited to a party. It was a whole new group of people and an opportunity to make new friends. Decked out in all pink, the two of you braced the cold and made your way across campus.

The party was absolutely crazy. The music was so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think and in the middle of the room was a mass of bodies all dancing with each other. Not drunk enough to feel comfortable, you took a sip out of the White Claw Natasha had given you. It didn’t take long before you spot Bucky. You hadn’t expected him to be here.

Yelling over the music, you turned to Natasha, “Wait, so who invited you to this?”

“I thought I told you already. It was Steve. These are all his friends,” she yelled back and disappeared into the crowd, trying to find Steve. You quickly followed, trying not to get lost in the sea of people. Catching your breath when you appeared next to her, you said a quick hi to Steve.

“Bucky, you’ve met Natasha’s roommate, right?” Steve asked.

“Y/N, right?” Bucky smiled as he confirmed your name. You nod and tried to think of something to say, but the song changed, and Natasha dragged you to dance. The alcohol finally started to kick in, allowing you to let loose. You danced and yelled the words to the songs pumping through the speaker. You loved this feeling of no worries. You loved the feeling of just being a body in a crowd. That feeling lasted for a few songs until Steve made his way over to Natasha. Hating third-wheeling, you found a couch on the side of the room to sit for a minute.

You scanned the room and saw few familiar faces but no one that you could go talk to. You saw Bucky on a different couch with some girl that was practically in his lap. You rolled your eyes. It was a little early in the night for Bucky to find his girl, but at least he was getting some. Continuing your scan, you saw a new face, a cute guy that looked just as much out of his element as you. Almost like he felt you looking, he looked your way and smiled. Taking that as a good sign, you walked over and sat next to him.

“So, parties like this really aren’t your thing, huh?” you asked him.

“More like I’m on babysitting duty,” he responded and points to two drunk guys dancing on a table. “My roommates can’t be trusted to not destroy things when they’re drunk.”

“Oh, trust me, I know the feeling. If my roommate didn’t have her little boy toy with her tonight, I would be doing the same thing,” you told him. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“I’m Bruce.” It became apparent that Bruce was shy and a little bit awkward, so you took the lead.

“Do you want to dance, Bruce?”

“Oh… um, I don’t really dance,” he stammered over the words.

“I’ll show you. Come on, have a little faith.” You held out your hand and led him into the thick of it. You put his hands on your waist, and before long, things were getting heated. Song after song, the tension started to build until you finally leaned up and kissed him. You could feel your heart pounding, and as you pulled away from the kiss, you could see the pink that tinged his cheeks.

“Wanna go for a walk?” you whisper yelled in his ear. He nodded quickly, knowing that walk was code to find somewhere to hook up. He took the lead this time, but before the of you could leave the dance floor, one of his roommates intercepted you.

“Bruce, I don’t feel too good,” he slurred before throwing up all over the floor.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, but I have to help him,” Bruce yelled as he rushed off with his roommate.

Alone and feeling sober, you went back to that couch in the corner. You noticed that Natasha and Steve had disappeared, and Bucky was dancing with a different girl than before. You checked the time on your phone and figured at this point, you might as well go home. You sent a quick text to Natasha telling her your plans and felt a sweaty body plop down on the couch.

“Y/N, how are you doing on this fine evening?” Bucky smirked and lit the joint in his hand.

“I was actually about to head home,” you told him.

“All by yourself?” his brow furrowed, and he looked around the room for Natasha.

“It’s really not that far, and I’m almost sober.” You noticed one of the girls that had been dancing with Bucky shooting daggers at you across the room.

“I can’t let you walk home by yourself. Give me one minute, and I’ll come with you,” Bucky decided, and he disappeared into the crowd. A minute or so later, he was back, joint still in his hand.

“You can’t seriously think I’m going to walk around campus with you while you smoke that.”

“Well, I’m not going to waste it,” he took a drag and then offered you a hit. You obliged, and then he put it out in the nearest ashtray. The walk was quiet and cold, and you started to feel that awkward feeling that always popped up when you were around Bucky.

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” he blurted out when you were about halfway home.

“What makes you think that?” your eyes were glued to the sidewalk, worried that if he saw your face, he might realize just how much you actually liked him.

“You never say hi to me when we see each other in public, and tonight I could almost feel the daggers you were shooting at me while I was dancing,” he explained.

“Well, I don’t dislike you. I don’t even really know you. I’m just a little shy.”

“You didn’t seem all that shy with that guy on the dance floor,” he joked, and your eyes shot up to see him laughing.

“Oh, shut up. I was drunk.”

“So, what I’m hearing is I just need to get you drunk, and then we can be best friends,” you gave him a playful shove at that comment. The two of you had reached your building, and then silence in the elevator was much more comfortable than the one before. The elevator reached your floor first, and you were surprised when Bucky followed you getting the elevator.

“I’m not sure how gone you are, but you don’t live on this floor, Bucky boy.”

“Just making sure you make it all the way to your room.” Before you even reached your dorm, you could hear the sounds of Steve and Natasha inside. You let out a groan while Bucky tried to contain his laughter.

“It’s not funny. Now I have to find somewhere to sit for the next hour because I refuse to witness all of that,” you complained.

“Just come upstairs with me,” Bucky offered.

“I’m sure you have other plans,” you mumbled. It was a Friday, so there was no way Bucky didn’t have some kind of plans.

“What else would I have to do?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Not what, but who,” you retorted. Bucky was silent for a moment before he laughed again.

“Wait, are you jealous or something?” he couldn’t stop smirking.

“Oh, get over yourself.” You stormed down the hallway, trying to hide your flaming cheeks. You heard footsteps, and then his arms wrapped around you.

“If you wanted a piece of all this Doll, all you have to do is ask,” he whispered. Despite his attitude, you felt the goosebumps cover your arms with him being that close. His lips started to move over your neck, and you heard yourself moan when he found the sensitive spot below your ear. “I need to hear you ask, Doll.”

“Oh my god, you are so annoying,” you sounded breathless. Bucky started to pull away, and you turned to face him. His blue eyes felt piercing as he looked down at you. “Fine, dammit. I want you, Bucky.”

He moved so fast you didn’t even have time to react. You were pinned against the wall. One of his hands held both of your arms above your head while the other cupped your jaw. The kiss was brutal and bruising, and you had never felt anything like that before. He pulled away and smiled at you heat in his eyes.

“I want you too, Y/N.” He took your hand and rushed towards the staircase, too impatient to wait for the elevator. When the two of you reached his room, you found yourself pinned again, this time against his door, and you could feel him hard against your stomach. He pulled your shirt over your head, and your bra quickly followed. You felt his strong arms lift you, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. A quick walk later and, you were thrown onto his bed. He pulled his shirt over his head, and you heard yourself make a noise that could only be described as animalistic.

You straddled him as he sat back against his headboard. Your hands raked through his short hair while he trailed kisses down your neck. He nipped your collarbone and finally attached his lips to one of your nipples. It was the perfect combination of teeth and suction, and you bit down on your lip to contain a moan.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, Doll. You haven’t even seen half of what my mouth can do.” That smirk was back on his face, and you kissed it. Trying to take back control, you reached down to feel him through his pants. He allowed it for a few seconds before flipping you over. “I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

You kicked off your shoes and socks while he pulled down your jeans and thong all at once. He turned your body so he could kneel on the ground and be level with your dripping pussy. His first touch made you watch to scream, and you heard him tease, “All of this wetness, and I’ve barely touched you. Have you thought about this before, babygirl? Thought about me while you touch yourself?”

His fingers trailed up and down your pussy lips, spreading around your wetness but not touching where you needed it most.

“Stop teasing Buck,” you whined, trying to angle your hips to get the much needed friction.

“I think I asked you a question, Doll.” At this point, his face was closer to you, and you could feel his breath slowly driving you insane.

“Fine, yes. I’ve thought about you fucking me seven ways to Sunday. You’re the person I think about when I touch myself, and you have been since the first time I saw you,” you finally admitted.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he responded and finally brought his mouth to your pussy. The assault of sensation was almost too much, and the only thing you could do was throw your head back and close your eyes. The combination of his tongue on your clit was nothing like you had ever experienced. Minute by minute, you could feel the coil in your abdomen getting tighter and tighter. Your moans were growing louder and louder, and finally, you were able to form the words, “Bucky, don’t stop, I’m gonna cum.”

You could feel his smirk as his fingers continued their rhythm, hitting your g spot over and over again. Finally, the dam broke, and you felt your hands fisting in his comforter as you bit your lip, trying to stay quiet. His fingers slowed as you rode through the aftershocks of your orgasm, and when you finally opened your eyes, you looked down to see him licking his lips.

He leaned over to kiss you, and you could taste yourself on his lips. Your hands found the bulge in his pants, and this time he allowed you to rub him through his pants. You had realized by this point that he liked to hear you beg, so your eyes met his, and you told him, “I want you to fuck me, Bucky. Please fuck me right now.”

He groaned, “You don’t have to tell me twice, Doll.” He stripped out of his remaining clothes and grabbed a condom from his top desk drawer while telling you, “On your hands and knees, Doll. That ass has been a distraction for months, and I wanna see it while I fuck you.”

You felt one hand on your hip while the other teased your entrance with his cock. You hadn’t gotten too good of a look at it, but from what you saw, he was a little over average in length and thick as hell. After what felt like an eternity, he slowly entered you. The stretch was a tiny bit painful at first, but the sexy kind of pain. The kind that you knew would leave you sore and remembering this for all of the next day. By the time he was fully sheathed in you, you could hear his erratic breathing behind you.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this Y/N? That first night at the bonfire, you looked over at me, and I was hooked, and then I thought you hated me. I’ve spent so many nights feeling guilty that I would jerk off to some girl that wanted nothing to do with me. Now you’re here, though, and I’m going to ruin you, ruin you for all those other guys that look at you.”

His pace was relentless, and you knew that his hands were going to leave bruises on your hips. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer as his strokes hit the same spot inside of you. You dug your face into the comforter when his hand reached around to stroke your clit.

He wanted to hear you, though, and you felt a yank at your hair as he told you, “I want to hear you Y/N. I want to hear you fall apart for me.”

So, you let him hear you. You screamed incoherent things as you fell apart for the second time that night. He pounded you through your orgasm and then quickly pulled out and flipped you over. His eyes were glassy, and he covered your body with his. Entering you again, you kissed his neck and ran your hands through his hair as he reached his own orgasm. He stayed on top of you for a few moments before you felt him pull out of you. He rolled over and got out of bed to dispose of the condom.

You had no words to describe what you were feeling. You had just experienced the best sex of your life and had Bucky Barnes tell you that he had wanted you for months. You heard Bucky cleaning up in the bathroom and figured it was time for you to leave. You forced yourself up and started to find the different articles of clothing scattered all over the floor. You had put your panties and bra on when the bathroom door opened.

“Leaving so soon?” Bucky asked. He had just a pair of boxers on, and you finally got the chance to appreciate just how beautiful his body was.

“I told Natasha I would be home, so I should go,” you responded. Bucky didn’t seem like the kind of guy who did the whole sleepover thing, so you wanted to give him an out.

“I texted Steve and told him you were here. So, you can stay if you want.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” you explained.

“Y/N, I want you to stay. Please stay,” and when he smiled at you this time, you couldn’t tell him no.

[dragon-kazansky]

Falling in love all over again | Helmut Zemo

Requested by @hb8301

Sam and Bucky needed information, and they were not going to get any sitting around discussing what to do next. It was obvious they would have to go out and ask around, while trying not to draw too much attention to themselves.

They need Walker showing up to blow up the mission. The longer they kept him at bay, the better.

Both men looked at Zemo. He was leisurely sitting back, book in hand. He clearly had no intention on going with them, but they couldn't just leave him here either.

Sam and Bucky looked at one another, a silent conversation being had between them. Zemo, without looking up from his book, could tell immediately it was about him. He had no intention of going with them.

Not when he had something far more important to do first.

Sam sighed and turned to the Baron.

"You stay here. You don't leave. You better be here when we get back."

Zemo looked up from his book finally.

"Of course. I'll be here."

Sam didn't exactly trust him, but he would have to deal with that for now. They needed to go before Karli made another move.

The boys left. Zemo sat there for a few minutes in silence. His eyes were on the door. When he felt a enough time had passed, he got up and made his way out.

He has wasted enough time now.

Zemo hadn't contacted you at all since his breakout. You had no idea he was even in the city. It was time to fix that.

You had been so faithful to him. He had missed you dearly. Not a day had gone by where he hadn't thought of you and what you were doing.

He smiled to himself as he walked down the street, hoping you were home. He didn't have a lot of time to spend with you, but he had to see you.

He walks these streets with ease, having walked them hundreds, if not thousands, of times in the past. The route is second nature for him.

Your home comes into view as he turns the corner, his smile ever present on his face.

You were home.

He knew you were home. He could hear that song you were playing. Just like when he first met you. You and your violin creating beautiful music. It was because of your violin that he had met you, and then fallen in love with you.

Your door was unlocked. How unwise of you.

He pushes it open gently and enters, feet stepping lightly as he glides across the floor with ease. You were in the room up ahead. He didn't want to startle you, not yet anyway.

He enters the room quietly. Your back was turned to him. You were playing with so much enthusiasm.

He had missed you so much.

He waits until you're finished before be applauds you. You turn, jumping in shock, hand over your heart. For a moment you are too spooked to comprehend what you're seeing.

Then to take him in.

"Helmut?" You ask, your voice only a whisper. Was this real?

He smiles lovingly at you.

"Hello, my love."

You put your violin down gently before you leap on him. He wraps his arms around you and chuckles in your ear, holding you tightly against him.

"You're here! You're actually here!"

He chuckles again.

"Yes, I am. Miss me?"

"Of course I did!"

You kiss him, unable to contain yourself. It had been so long. He happily returns the gesture, just wanting to hold you.

You pull back to look at him.

"What are you doing here? Why didn't you say anything?"

He caresses either cheek with his gloved hands and smiles at you softly. His eyes flicker over every detail of tour face, memorizing it. Though you were still as beautiful as he remembered.

"I've had a very busy few days. I wanted to surprise you when I got here. I'm helping a couple friends in a situation. They don't know in here, so this is our secret," he tells you.

You nod and sigh softly, placing your hands over his and meaning into his touch.

"I've missed you so much," you whisper.

"I know. I recognised that piece you were playing."

"I play it whenever I miss you. It's all I have when you're gone."

He smiles sadly and lowers his hands, kissing your forehead softly. His stay is short lived so he has to make every second with you count.

"We don't have long."

You cling to him, hugging him tightly.

"Stay as long as you can. I'm not ready to say goodbye again just yet."

He hugs you tightly again, smiling.

"Neither am I, Schatz."

You stand like that and sway together, you with your head on his chest. He hums a little tune in your ear, loving the moment.

If only he could freeze time like this forever. He would never have to leave your side again. He would give anything to stay here with you.

Maybe, just maybe, there was chance for this happen yet. Zemo would think of something, he always did.

Too much time had passed already.

He parts from you, regrettably. He can't take the sad look in your eyes. It's a look that does not belong on your face. He reaches put and caresses your cheek once more.

"Must you go?"

"If I stay, I'll only get you into trouble. I'm suppose to be keeping you safe, Liebling."

"How long will I have to wait this time?"

"I don't know, but I will do whatever it takes for it to be a short wait. I will come back to you, my love."

"Promise me."

"I promise, with every fibre of my being."

You pull him into a kiss again. This time it's far more hungry and desperate for him than before. He wanted it to last, but he really had to get back.

You watch him go until he is completely out of sight. You know he will come for you, you just had to wait some more.

There was a lot of waiting when it came to Zemo.

By the time Sam and Bucky return, Zemo is sitting where he had been, reading the same book as before, but seemingly further along.

"You actually stayed here." Sam looks at him, almost impressed.

"I said I would," Zemo replies, not looking up at them. They had no idea, and he wouldn't give away he had been to see you.

Bucky eyes him suspiciously, but says nothing.

They couldn't prove Zemo had stayed, but they couldn't prove he had left either. They both leave him alone.

Zemo smiles to himself.

He would see you again soon, he just had escape these two first.

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