#Bucky Barnes x ofc

[sgrdoll]

sunshine

synopsis - bucky’s therapist tells him to get out of the house more and he meets the human embodiment of sunshine.

warnings - smut, tooth rotting fluff, dom/sub dynamics, oral male & female receiving, spanking unprotected sex, mentions of PTSD, pet names, bucky struggling with his mental health

a/n - i really left yall hanging for MONTHS. if you read this at all i am thankful because if i was my own reader i would ignore this post out of spite lol. critiques are welcome since I haven’t written in so long. replies, reblogs, & likes are appreciated!! :)

masterlist

wc: 5k ish

The rain outside pelted against Bucky’s leather jacket loudly. He groaned and stepped into a nearby library to escape the less than ideal weather. He welcomed the warmth that enveloped him.

He looked around for a moment, it seemed like he was the only person in here. Stepping into the dark library felt like switching dimensions in comparison to the loud bustling streets of New York, add in the incessant rain and it was a nightmare out there in the real world.

Bucky wiped his feet on the rug before stepping fully inside the library. He didn’t have anywhere to be, he was really only out because his therapist thought he was getting a bit too comfortable in isolation. Of course, that was true, however, he still despised having to interact with innocent people he had the potential to hurt.

The library was dimly lit and had books from floor to ceiling. There were even miscellaneous piles of books scattered around his feet on the floor. All of the colors that surrounded him were neutrals but they felt so comforting and inviting. The library he stepped into was cozy and he had no qualms about being trapped here while the rain poured outside.

Deciding to make the most of his time, Bucky walked toward the nonfiction section. He loved reading books that had anything pertaining to the military, it was something that had stuck with him through his childhood and into adulthood. He slipped into the narrow aisle and scanned down the shelves.

His fingers gently grazed the spines of the aging books in front of him. Bucky was slowly relaxing into the silence that the library provided for him.

His apartment wasn’t the safe haven to him that it once was, it was now a place haunted by the nightmares that were slowly consuming him. Here in the library though, his demons couldn’t find him.

“Excuse me, sir,” a small voice said apologetically as they squeezed by him.

Bucky moved his focus from the books in front of him to the woman that was now browsing right next to him. She had her long light brown hair flowing down her back and a bit messy from the rain. The skirt she was wearing was black and entirely too short for the weather they were currently having, but the cream sweater with the Polo logo on it somewhat made up for the shortcomings of her skirt.

Bucky’s first thought was His apartment wasn’t the safe haven to him that it once was, it was now a place haunted by the nightmares that were slowly consuming him. Here in the library though, his demons couldn’t find him.

“Excuse me, sir,” a small voice said apologetically as they squeezed by him.

Bucky moved his focus from the books in front of him to the woman that was now browsing right next to him. She had her long light brown hair flowing down her back and a bit messy from the rain. The skirt she was wearing was black and entirely too short for the weather they were currently having, but the cream sweater with the Polo logo on it somewhat made up for the shortcomings of her skirt.

He moved his attention away from the doe-eyed girl that was a little too close to him and refocused on the combat books in front of him. Funnily enough, the books about violence were distracting him from his fears of violence.

It took a few moments, but Bucky’s anxiety slowly trickled off until it was nothing but a dull ache in his chest.

That was until the pretty girl smiled at him, “Hi.”

Her tone was warm and kind and she was obviously inviting Bucky to have a conversation with her while they shared the aisle of old books so intimately.

His eyes widened slightly but he quickly took his composure back from the perfect girl in front of him that seemed to be stealing it.

“Hey,” he almost cringed as soon as he said it. His voice was much too rough in comparison to the gentle tone she was using to speak to him.

“Do you read a lot of nonfiction?” Her head cocked cutely to the side which made his heart beat a little faster.

“On the rare occasion I pick up a book, yes,” he answered after a beat of silence. He was mentally high fiving himself at such a collected response considering the effect she was having on him.

“I’m grabbing some of the old medical journals for some of my writing,” she answered the question without being prompted.

“What do you write?”

“I mostly do romance but my latest idea has been murder-mystery.”

“Oh, so you’re a novelist?” Bucky was beginning to feel more comfortable with the conversation now. The girl in front of him now felt like a breath of fresh air rather than a suffocating hand around his throat.

“Not exactly a superhero, but it pays the bills,” her smile was infectious and Bucky couldn’t help but grin.

“What’s your name?” He leaned back against the shelf behind him.

“I’m Amelia. But most of my friends call me Milly,” she answered him without breaking her gaze.

Amelia was very confident it seemed. But, not in a cocky way, her confidence was kindness. She radiated an energy that could only be described as pure gold.

“I’m Bucky,” he told her.

“I know. I saw you on the news last night, you save the world a lot it seems.”

Her comment made the tip of his ears burn red, “I guess you could say that.”

“Don’t be so modest. I think it’s cool, you’re like a real life comic book character,” her flattery was like ten arrows pointed straight at Bucky’s anxiety, slowly dwindling it down to a tiny stump that sat in the base of his stomach instead of the huge tree that once took over his entire body.

“You’re acting like you don’t have the coolest job in the world,” he rolled his eyes playfully at her, “You’re the one who gets to make the comic book characters.”

Their conversation continued and they slowly migrated over to the leather chairs in the corner of the room. They sat down next to each other and he told her his war stories while she took little sips of her coffee.

Every small movement she made, every little flip of her hair, all of her crossing and uncrossing of her legs, enticed Bucky even further into her spell.

“I love the rain,” Amelia said to him after he complained about the horrific weather, “It’s so pretty and calming.”

It confused him how she could find violent thunderstorms calming.

“The only reason I even walked into this library was to get away from the mess outside,” he replied back while looking through one of the windows to see that the precipitation had slowed down to a gentle mist now.

“Well if there was no rain, you would’ve never met me,” she smiled at him.

They had been talking for at least two hours by this point, but it felt like only twenty minutes. Everything was so easy with Milly. Conversation was like an ever flowing river with her, it just was so smooth and easy.

All he could feel was her energy, not the pain of his past, just her. For two hours, what happened to him fifty years ago was just that, the past.

She was pure light. She radiated warmth, she was what made flowers grow, she was what supported life on Earth, she was the sunshine.

Bucky looked down to check his watch and noticed the time. His eyes widened a little bit and he glanced back up at Milly who was happily chatting about her cats Moose and Sushi.

“Am I talking too much?” She suddenly stopped and looked down at her lap shyly.

“No! Of course not,” he quickly reassured her, “It’s just, it’s getting late.”

“Oh,” she said, a little disheartened he was finished talking to her.

“How about dinner?” Bucky didn’t even think about what he was saying until it was out of his mouth. It was very spur of the moment and he wish he could go back in time and think about the consequences that might come of taking her out.

“Dinner?” She repeated back as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Yeah, I know this great Thai place a few blocks down,” he smiled at her trying to tamper down his own racing thoughts.

Her pale pink nails clicked against the now empty coffee cup in her hand as she thought, “That sounds great.”

The pair stood up and Bucky took notice of the cloudy sky no longer pouring rain. He almost smiled at the thought of how long they had been talking. Not one notion of violence or hurting her had crossed his mangled brain.

They stepped out of the library and into the street. Without thinking, Bucky grabbed her hand and guided her down the street.

Milly hoped he didn’t notice the pink tint on her cheeks and trembling hands.

The duo were both lost in their own thoughts about one another and walked in silence while the world around them moved at an impossible pace.

Bucky stopped at a door on the corner of the street that Milly had always assumed was abandoned.

“I’ve never been here before,” she commented to him as he opened the door for her.

“I don’t know many people who have,” he chuckled.

No one greeted them but that didn’t seem to bother Bucky who led her to a booth in the corner without any guidance from the staff.

Milly slipped into the booth first and Bucky very surprisingly sat on the same side she did.

Bucky was testing himself. He wanted to see how far he could go without any thoughts or flashbacks to the life he used to live.

Their shoulders touched and he basked in the warmth she brought him, both physically and metaphorically.

He looked down at her and she was trapped in his unwavering gaze. Her lips parted and Bucky’s heart hammered loudly in his chest. They didn’t speak, they just drank each other in like sweet wine.

“Can I take your order?” A woman with a thick British accent interrupted them.

Bucky’s head whipped around and Milly was ripped from her trance with him. Their picture perfect bubble had burst.

He cleared his throat quickly, “Sorry, um, yes I think we’ll both have the chicken pad thai and some water.”

The waitress chewed her gum loudly while writing down the order and Bucky offered her a small smile.

“Sorry, I just sort of guessed on what you would want,” Bucky said almost sheepishly.

“I like chicken pad thai,” Amelia responded back with a smile.

He locked eyes with her again, “Do you think you want to do this again tomorrow?”

She laughed cutely at him, “We aren’t even done with today.”

“I think it’s gonna go well.”

His confidence almost shocked her. All day it felt like he was walking on eggshells but now she felt like she was getting all of him, not just the parts he felt like showing. The thought made her stomach flutter.

Their meal went on with lots of flirtation. Knees touching and hushed giggles were like their own secret language.

When the bill came Bucky deflated. He wasn’t ready to give up the sunshine yet.

He put his card down and the waitress came back with the receipt far too quickly. Bucky felt his time with her winding down and coming to an end.

“Hey,” he blurted out, “Do you want to come to the tower with me?”

“What tower? Like the Empire State Building?”

“The Avenger’s Tower.”

Amelia’s eyes widened, “Are people even allowed in there?”

Bucky’s heart stopping smile appeared once again, “Of course, and now you have an invitation.”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” she frowned.

“I won’t get in trouble. Tony’s not even in town this week. I think Steve’s the only person there.”

“It sounds like we would be breaking the rules,” she quirked an eyebrow at him.

He laughed, “It makes it more fun.”

She sighed, “As long as we don’t get caught. I really don’t want to be in trouble with the most powerful men in New York.”

He smiled, “You could never be in trouble with me, doll.”

Amelia could’ve passed out. The dominance that oozed from just that sentence made her head fuzzy and knees weak.

She tried to play it off by rolling her eyes and he laughed again.

Bucky stood up from the booth and reached his hand towards her.

“This time we can take a car to the Tower. It’s probably unbearably cold outside, especially with that skirt on.”

“I’m wearing fleece lined stockings,” she defended.

He tried his hardest to not daydream about what was underneath those stockings.

The pair walked into the windy night of New York. The rain had returned as a mist that made the horizon hazy and gray.

Bucky tucked his dog tags into his long sleeve shirt. Similarly to him, Amelia was struggling not wondering what else he could do with his hands.

A car pulled up to the sidewalk and the two quickly got in.

Bucky brushed some stray rain droplets from his hair and she jumped back and giggled when they landed on her face.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes and he silently wondered how he was going to get through the rest of the night without grabbing her by the neck and kissing the hell out of her.

She smiled up at his now serious and poked his cheek.

“You’re so cute,” he said after she finished her laughing fit.

Her cheeks reddened and her nose scrunched. She really was perfect.

The traffic wasn’t as horrendous as Bucky expected and they made it to the Tower quicker than he thought they would.

She was enamored by the bright lights of the Tower. The glow from the building reflected in her brown eyes like dazzling stars.

“C’mon,” he interrupted her gawking, “I’ll show you around.”

Bucky escorted her out of the SUV and to the front of the building. He remembered feelings just like she did when Steve first brought him here, impossibly small.

“Let’s go in. I promise it’s much more impressive from the inside,” Bucky said to her.

“Are you sure this is allowed?” Milly asked one last time before they went in.

“If I say no will you still come in with me?”

“Bucky,” she whined, “Please don’t get me into any trouble.”

The pout on her lips sent his mind into overdrive. She made it hard for him to form sentences sometimes.

“I won’t,” he regained his composure, “It’ll be fun and if it’s not I’ll take you right back home.”

She begrudgingly agreed and they walked into the glamorous building.

Reinforced glass walls surrounded them and a few employees strolled by without a second glance at her.

“Wow, it’s really pretty in here,” Milly breathed out.

“It’s definitely not the tax bracket I grew up in,” Bucky chuckled.

“Do you guys live here?”

Amelia knew she was being nosy and almost immediately regretted asking. Bucky however didn’t bat an eye and answered her quickly.

“I share a floor with Steve on one of the top levels and Nat sometimes stays here, but that’s it.”

“You have your own coffee shop,” she said pointing to the 24/7 coffee cart situated in the lobby.

“It’s incredibly convenient,” he chuckled, “Do you want to see the upstairs?”

His cheeks turned red, he didn’t want her to have the wrong impression of him. Bucky didn’t want to have some one night stand with her, although he wasn’t opposed to taking her up there and fucking her stupid.

“Sure. What floor are you on?” She asked while walking toward the elevator. Amelia didn’t even catch the innuendo.

“Floor 8,” he stepped on the elevator, “Let me put in the stupid passcode.”

He punched in four digits and rolled his eyes, “Tony is way too serious about security.”

The ride up was quick and relatively quiet. When the doors opened to Bucky’s penthouse suite she audibly gasped.

“Wow. You live here?” Her tone was practically incredulous.

“Have for 3 years now, sweetheart.”

The room was mostly decorated with neutrals except for some artwork on the wall.

Bucky noticed her eyeing it and offered an explanation, “That’s Steve’s contribution, he loves to paint.”

“It’s beautiful here. I would be scared out of my mind to even cook in a kitchen as perfect as this one,” she eyeballed the million dollar penthouse.

“I’ll use that as my excuse the next time Tony scolds us for not eating at home enough,” Bucky joked.

Amelia turned her attention back to him, “Did you say Steve was home earlier?”

“Let me check, he might’ve gone out with Natasha,” he said while walking out of the room and calling out for his flatmate.

When he figured out Steve wasn’t actually home as he originally thought he leaned against the wall. He had barely any time to process that there was a beautiful woman in his apartment. A beautiful woman that he wasn’t scared of harming. Someone who took all of those bad thoughts away from him.

Bucky had never felt this way before. It was the first time in a long time he wasn’t scared of himself.

He sighed in relief at the feeling of not having to worry. It felt like he had just finished the marathon of his life and finally got to sit down when he was around her.

After taking a couple of seconds to process he walked back into the living room to see her sitting on the couch looking at the view of the city.

The wall was glass and it made for a beautiful backdrop in their home. Especially tonight, when the stormy clouds parted just enough to see the full moon.

He went to the kitchen quietly as to not disturb her and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Bucky took a deep breath and strolled towards the couch and sat down. He placed the wine glasses on the table in front of them.

“It’s beautiful out there isn’t it?” She commented.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” he said, staring at the side of her face.

“I brought some wine if you want any,” Bucky offered while pouring his own glass.

“No thank you, I hate the taste of wine,” she scrunched her nose again.

“I can grab some water or juice for you,” he offered quickly. He felt like a terrible host.

“No, that’s okay,” she finally turned her body towards his.

His breath stopped when he saw her brown eyes gazing into his own. Bucky didn’t even think about it when his hand touched the right side of her neck and he leaned down to kiss her.

She reciprocated quickly and grabbed the bottom of his shirt in her fist as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

Their lips moved against each other for a few seconds before he slipped his tongue in her mouth. She sighed into him and pressed herself closer to him.

Bucky picked up her smaller frame and placed her in his lap without breaking the kiss.

Millie straddled him and grabbed the short hair at the base of his neck.

“Fuck, Amelia,” he breathed out when he pulled away.

Her sweet giggle filled the room as their foreheads touched and their chests heaved in unison.

“You're really good at that,” she said, still out of breath.

He chuckled at her, “I wanted to kiss you all night. It’s a surprise I’ve made it this far.”

“Are you gonna stop now?” Milly tilted her head and pouted her lips.

Bucky threw his back and cursed, “You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman right now.”

Amelia kissed a hickey on his neck and leaned in next to his ear, “I’m not asking you to be a gentleman, Bucky.”

It felt like all of the resolve he had left in his body had snapped and he wrapped his calloused hand around the soft skin on her neck. He squeezed the sides of her throat and watched as her eyes took on a glimmer he hadn’t seen before.

Milly challenged him with a smile he wasn’t expecting, “How did you know just what I liked?”

“I never pinned you for a girl who liked to be thrown around,” Bucky’s eyebrow lifted in surprise but the grin remained on his face.

“I never pinned you for a guy who liked to throw girls around,” she returned his smile.

Even with his hand wrapped around the delicate skin of her neck he wasn’t scared of hurting her. Bucky felt fully in control for the first time in a long time.

“Safe word is red, baby.” Bucky smirked after a beat of silence

His hand tightened around her throat once again and he kissed her. Amelia’s hips grinded down against his lap.

Her short skirt slowly started to ride up until Bucky’s hands found the hem and pushed it all the way up.

His hands wandered down from her neck to her hips. Bucky moved her against him. He felt his pants tightening to accommodate how hard he was.

Amelia pulled away from the kiss and leaned her head against his chest as he continued to move her hips against his own. All that could be heard were her shaky moans and the sounds of bucky sucking a trail of hickeys down her neck.

“Not so confident now, huh baby?” He taunted her when he felt her thighs shaking around him.

“Please stop teasing me,” she begged with her eyes squeezed shut.

“Aw, but you look so cute squirming on my lap,” he mocked her.

Gone was Bucky’s almost shy demeanor, now he was domineering and arrogant.

Amelia could feel herself getting wetter by the second, “Please, Bucky. Please fuck me.”

“Only because you sound so sweet when you beg.”

Bucky moved her and stood up from his position on the couch. He took his black shirt off and let it fall to the ground.

He almost groaned when he saw her look up at him from underneath her lashes. Her eyes were full of want and it made his chest hurt.

Amelia stood up from the couch and then dropped to her knees and looked up at him with a cute smile.

“Fuck, not as innocent as you seem huh?” He chided while she ran her hands up and down his jean clad thighs.

Her fingers ran across the prominent bulge a couple of times before she began to unbuckle his belt.

Bucky could tell she was reciprocating his teasing from before and teasing him.

She gentle pulled his boxers off and let his cock stand proudly in front of her.

Milly inhaled deeply and tried to keep her confidence from before as she stroked him gently. Before she put her mouth around Bucky she looked up at him and he gave her a small reassuring smile.

That gave her all the confidence she needed to take his length down her throat. She bobbed her head up and down until her eyes watered and mascara trailed down her flushed cheeks.

Bucky groaned out loud, “Jesus fucking Christ Milly. You look so fucking pretty with my cock down your throat and tears in your eyes.”

Amelia sucked hard on Bucky’s length and his hands found their way into her thick brown hair.

She stopped moving and looked up at him expectantly.

His jaw almost dropped when he realized she was waiting for him to fuck her face. She had to be created in a lab or something. There was no way she was that perfect for him.

Bucky’s hands gripped harder into her hair and he started to fuck her mouth.

He felt himself getting closer and closer as he fucked her mouth at a sinful pace. Bucky took her off his cock and Milly frowned.

“I want you to come down my throat,” she pouted.

Fuck, she feels like the answers to all of life’s problems.

“Not tonight. Tonight, I’m gonna cum inside you,” he said pulling her up from her knees.

“Take off the rest of your clothes.”

She stood there for a moment without moving.

“Now, Amelia. Don’t make me ask again,” he warned.

This made her strip off her sweater and her ripped tights. She unzipped her skirt quickly and looked back to Bucky for instruction.

“God, you’re so gorgeous,” Bucky praised her and cupped her cheek.

His words were so kind and reminded her of the way he was earlier in the night. Amelia wasn’t sure which side of him she preferred, the domineering and brash Bucky or the kind and soft spoken Bucky.

She took a step towards his hulking frame and ran her hands over his abdomen. She felt his taught muscles twitch underneath her wandering fingers as he kissed her again.

He maneuvered her back onto the couch where they previously were and perched her body on his lap without taking his lips off of hers.

Bucky broke the kiss and whispered gruffly, “Over my lap.”

Amelia could tell by his tone that it wasn’t request. She shivered at the dominance he displayed and did what he said quickly.

Bucky ran his his large palm over the tan skin of her Milly’s ass and had to stifle a moan. Her body was a fucking masterpiece.

Amelia could feel his hard on pressing into her middle and she wanted nothing more for him to be inside her.

Without warning his hand came down harshly on the sensitive skin of her ass.

She gasped when she felt him spank her. She rubbed her thighs together at the feeling of the sharp pain.

Bucky took notice of this, “A painslut too? Very cute.”

Milly’s face turned pink at the name but she couldn’t deny that it made her feel that much more turned on.

Bucky gave her a few more before finally ending her anticipation and reaching down in between her legs.

She almost sighed in relief when his hand glided over her folds. Bucky rubbed small circles over her clit. His fingers went between her dripping hole and up to her clit torturously. All she wanted was for him to be inside her, in any way possible.

He was rewarded for his efforts with her cute moans egging him on. Finally, he slipped a finger into her and she gripped his thigh hard, surely leaving marks where her fingernails were digging into his skin.

He pumped in and out of her heat at a pace that made her eyes roll into the back of her head. He had a second finger and curled his fingers right into the spot that made her see stars.

Her pants were audible, “Please, Bucky! I’m about to cum.”

As soon as she said it his pulled his fingers out of her. She whined at the loss of contact and sat up from her position over his lap.

“Bucky, please!” She whined hopelessly.

“Don’t be such a brat, you’re gonna cum tonight,” he rolled his eyes at her.

Milly pouted up at his handsome face. Before she could say anything else she was being scooped up into his arms and trotted off somewhere.

“Where are we going?” The whine in her voice was still there.

“My bedroom,” he responded in a short manner.

Bucky opened the door to his bedroom and threw Amelia on the grey duvet of his bed.

She didn’t even get a chance to look around before he was once again on top of her kissing her.

Milly squirmed underneath him and let out helpless moans.

Bucky pulled away and let out a mocking laugh, “You’re so desperate for my cock huh? How did I find such a perfect cockwhore?”

Amelia wanted to cry at how badly she wanted him. It felt like she had been teased for millenniums.

Bucky ran the tip of his length through her folds to get her even more worked up.

“Please!” Tears clouded her vision.

The sight of her crying for him to fuck her was enough to send Bucky into a spiral. He finally pushed into her heat.

He threw his head back and they let out simultaneous moans. He slowly started to pump into her velvet walls.

“Fuck, it’s like you were made for me, baby.”

Amelia couldn’t form words all she could do was whimper and clutch onto his sheets as he pounded her into his mattress.

Bucky grabbed her leg and threw it over his shoulder and watched as her mouth opened into a silent scream at the new angle. He smirked as he fucked into her, he knew she was close.

“I’m gonna cum,” she panted out at him as she arched her back up into him.

He grabbed the headboard and set a brutal pace when he felt her tighten around him. Bucky was sure this was what heaven felt like.

He felt her constrict around him even tighter and arch her body into his own. Her moans came to a crescendo and she came undone around his cock.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. Feeling her cum around him was his final straw and he released inside of her.

Feeling him cum inside her made Amelia preen. They stayed connected for a moment before he pulled out of her and laid next to her panting body.

She turned toward him and pressed her head into his chest. Bucky kissed the crown of her head and wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her body closer to his.

“Was that okay?”

“It was perfect, Bucky.”

[azriona]

Coffee Thievery

Pre-Bucky/Reader, ~500 words, Rated Gen (it's a meet-cute, guys, keep your clothes on). Set in the Not a Fairy Tale Kiss 'verse but not necessary to read that to enjoy this very fluffy ficlet. Today is Election Day and I wanted to give you a little bit of fluff on what is sure to be a stressful day. Please remember to vote if you're eligible and take care of yourselves! No coffee was harmed or spilled in the making of this ficlet.

Summary: It is a perfectly normal morning in Avengers Tower, and you are on a perfectly normal mission to steal Clint’s coffee, when a complication turns up at the breakfast table.

Read it on AO3 or just read it here!

The op is going perfectly when you realize you’ve been made.

It’s not your fault. Everything had been going exactly to plan: Clint’s coffee is sitting on the table, exactly where he always puts it. He’s forgotten the sugar – again, it’s a very reliable failing – and it’s not on the table like it usually is because you made sure of that as soon as you’d gotten back from the mission the night before.

So Clint’s digging in the deep well that is the pantry, trying to find the sugar, and you’re sneaking around the side like Indiana Jones, and that’s when you realize that it’s not just Clint in the pantry and Natasha on the couches reading her book.

It’s also the guy sitting at the other end of the table, holding his own mug of something and frowning at you like he’s about to blow your cover.

He’s cute, especially with his nose wrinkled like that, all frowny-faced. His hair’s dark brown and tucked behind his ears, like he normally wears it short but has missed a haircut or three, and you can tell even from here that his eyes are the bluest blue to ever blue. He’s wearing layers of soft cotton shirts and a strange shiny glove on one hand and he’s so clean-shaven you can see the slightly reddened skin, as if it’s been a while and he couldn’t wait another minute.

A little disappointing; a bit of stubble would probably look good on him. Contemplating how he would look more disheveled is probably why you’re distracted from your goal long enough to let him open his mouth, like he’s about to announce your presence.

You quickly start motioning to him Stop stop stop! Shut up shut up shut up! Slashing at your throat, one finger over your mouth, mouthing no no no, the works.

He stares at you, still incredulous, mouth open, before turning to look at Natasha.

Natasha looks up, looks at you, looks at Mysterious But Adorable, shrugs, and turns a page in her book.

MBA just looks back at you, still incredulous, but you grin and ease forward to slowly remove your goal from the table.

You’re already at the door to the stairwell for your exit when you hear Clint talking.

“We need to order more—fuck. Barnes! I thought you were watching my coffee!”

“I was,” says MBA – Barnes, apparently.

Barnes. Oh. It clicks.

“You were.”

“Yeah, I watched it as someone came in here, took it, and left again.”

“You…” Clint’s sputtering now.

“She went to the elevators,” offers Barnes helpfully, “if you want to try to catch her.”

“That little minx, I’m gonna—”

The door to the stairwell (conveniently on the other side of the floor from the elevators) closes quietly behind you so you can’t hear the rest of the exchange.

Which is really kind of too bad, because if that was James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, fabled war hero, Captain America’s best friend, and just-returned-last-night-from-that-mission-no-one’s-telling-you-about, then he totally had your six and you kinda want to thank him.

(With your tongue. No no, bad thought, put that away, the guy was a brainwashed assassin for decades, you are absolutely Not Allowed to think about a teammate like that, nopity nope.)

(Well. Maybe once would be okay.)

It’s gonna be a great day, you think cheerfully, as you take a sip of Clint’s coffee and head down to Tony’s lab.

Read the rest of the series on AO3.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 7129

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, mental illness, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

12. Pôt de crème

Mary

That day really winds up feeling like the epitome of a terrible horrible, no good, very bad fucking day for Mary, and it starts early. Leaving the apartment for work after the massage cocktease from Hell is odd.

She’s left feeling happy to have helped, but also hurt, disappointed, and mad at herself, of all things. That was the perfect opportunity for her to make a move and finally force those two to tell her that they’re not interested! (Though a small and pitifully thirsty part of her brain still exists in the fantasy land where they’d take her up on it.) But she’d chickened out and kept it strictly platonic. Ugh. Lame.

She manages not to think about it for a while, as she gets into the rhythm of her day at the bakery. She still can’t shake the cloud of anxiety and irritability looming over her, though. The good old days of any lasting effects from Bucky’s drops are gone, and instead she’s left to slowly percolate a bad mood as she clocks in and figures out the best order to get her projects done for that day.

Dennis is the manager on schedule, which sucks because Mary’s never liked him, but he’s in the office for the most part, since he’s a stuck up do-nothing, and she's able to pretend that she’s alone. 

No matter though. She can’t focus on anything, feels overly emotional, and almost breaks out in tears when she drops a tray of cupcakes on the floor. She manages to hold it together as she cleans up the mess, and moves onto the next task. Her list for the day now feels miserably long, and she doesn’t even enjoy decorating the base-iced babycakes that are waiting for her from yesterday. She fucks up the writing on one of them and loses her shit over something that is not worth losing her shit over. That’s the stupid thing that finally pushes her to tears, and she tosses her piping bag angrily onto the counter, what the fucking herself and feeling like she’s going crazy. 

Like baseball, there’s no crying in kitchens: That’s what the walk-in’s for. So, she hides back by the dairy products until she’s able to pull herself together. She comes out shivering, not crying, and in a horrible mood. 

Buttercream is next, so she gets the sugar boiling and the egg whites whisking in the forty quart. She tries to talk herself up in her head as she goes through motions of streaming in the sugar and then scaling the butter she’ll add to it once it’s whipped cool. “You’re not bad at your job,” she mumbles to herself, trying to push the threat of tears away with positive thoughts. “You’re not.”

Jesus fuck, why is she feeling like this? Nothing that bad has even happened! So she dropped some fucking cupcakes, so what? It happens. She checks her phone to see if she’s about to get her period, but that’s not it. Her focus is shit, so of course she eventually goes back to thinking about Bucky and Steve. 

Today is Bucky’s day off. Mary thinks about him being in pain that morning and how his movements had been crippled by pain. … She thinks about his broad, muscled back under her hands, his warm skin, the moans of relief he’d given whenever she worked out a knot. Poor guy. Even though she hates to think of enduring it again, she has to admit to herself that she does care about Bucky, and she would endure it if he needed her help. Hell, if it’s something that’ll help him in the long run, she’ll have to do at least one or two more massage sessions to teach Steve the ropes so he can help his husband in her absence.

Bucky doesn’t want her to do it. She pouts about that, but scolds herself as soon as she realizes she’s doing so. Don’t be lame over guys who don’t want you. So Bucky and Steve just want to be gay together in peace, so what? Why is she losing her shit over the tiniest rejection like this?!

She ruminates on it while she’s at the stove stirring a massive batch of pôt de crème custard, and it occurs to her that the part she’s actually most upset about isn’t their platonic feelings for her: it’s her own lack of bravery and straightforwardness with Bucky and Steve, and how she’s become such a pathetic wallflower over the past few months. 

Maybe if she’d flat out asked about a romantic relationship from the beginning, she could’ve gotten the rejection out of the way and been putting herself out there to meet someone new by now. She might’ve met a Dom at one of the Center’s socials, or at least could’ve been swiping the apps and going on dates. Getting laid.

But instead suddenly she’s turned into a shy girl (obnoxious). She hasn’t been a virgin since college, and it wasn’t like she wasn’t sleeping with whoever she could get her hands on, back before Steve and Bucky 'adopted' her. She’d been so good at it back then, saying what she meant and going for what she wanted, dragging at least one new guy back to her place to fuck every other week. Why can’t she just do something now? 

Frowning, she decides that she will do something over it. The ideal would be to move back to her own place, but she can’t with the custody order in place and Dr. Linda on Bucky’s side. Gritting her teeth, she figures she’ll do the next best thing: she’ll start getting laid again. She’ll go out and meet people. She’ll go out straight after work each day. Unless he wants to physically tie her up and keep her prisoner in the apartment, Bucky can’t stop it. 

She’s just got to work up the nerve to break his rules like that. Nerve which, in her current mood, seems quite out of reach. She sighs and reaches up to grab the Grand Marnier off the shelf for the pôt de crème. All she feels like doing now is going back to the apartment and crawling into bed, to be honest. She wonders if this is what actual clinical depression feels like. Maybe. Maybe worse. Sarcastically, she thinks that a shot or three of alcohol would certainly help, and then she pauses with her hand on the bottle as she’s about to pour it into the custard. Oh. 

She’s not drinking anymore. 

Fuck. That’s it. She’s hardly ever had sex sober in her life. Barely ever even flirted without some liquid courage in her system. That’s what’s changed. She always used pick up guys in bars, or at other places where everybody had a drink in their hand. And at home at her apartment, whenever the creeping buildup of anxiety and irritability would get to be too much, a couple vodka sprites were what made her feel better. She pauses in her stirring. Thinking about it now is making her almost physically yearn for a stiff one. 

She looks down at the bottle in her hand, shame coloring her cheeks as soon as she has the thought. Even at her worst, Mary never drank on the job. She grimaces at herself and hurriedly sets the bottle back on the shelf before temptation can win out, then turns back to the stove.

“Fuck!” she hisses, scrambling to turn off the burner when she’s met with the sight of lumpy pôt de crème. She whisks it frantically to try and stop it, but it’s too far gone: The eggs in the custard have curdled. She throws her head back and groans. “God dammit!”

She makes a last ditch effort to save it by dumping the lumpy custard into a Cambro, tossing in a few ice cubes, and furiously burr-mixing it with the immersion blender, but it’s no use. She’s irrevocably ruined a massive batch of dessert (with the expensive liqueur already added in it, to boot) because she wasn’t paying attention. Growling, she dumps it all in the trash bin before Dennis can happen to walk by and see, then stomps back to the fridge to grab ingredients to rescale the recipe.

She lines up sheet trays of paper dessert cups on her workstation table for decanting … and takes one cup with her over to the stove while she stands there and cooks the second batch of pôt de crème.

It’s when she’s stirring and pouring that second measure of liqueur into the pot that she gives into impulse and pours a shot’s worth of the stuff into the extra paper baking cup—that she now realizes she brought over for this express purpose in the first place. She gives the empty kitchen a furtive glance, and tosses it back. “Ugh.” 

Orange flavored liqueur? Really Mary?

She hears the rebuke in Bucky’s voice in her head, which is annoying and drives her to repeat the action once she’s drank the first. She tosses back a second. Gross gross gross. She checks the label on the bottle: 40% ABV. Good. She puts the bottle back on the shelf, pissed about feeling so uncomfortable in her skin that she stubbornly refuses to feel guilty over her actions, and finishes cooking the custard to a smooth nappé this time. Perfect. 

She pours the custard over the white chocolate and lets it melt. She burr mixes it, strains it. Ready to go.

Later maybe she’ll feel bad about it, but as she grabs the sauce gun and begins the tedious process of dispensing the pôt de crème into the cups, that warm, pleasant feeling of a buzz starts to creep up on her, and she finds herself in a better mood before long. Things seem brighter, and she finally feels like she can breathe. She’s able to think about Bucky and Steve without feeling like a piece of dirt, and even laughs about the stupid massage episode. Two shots of liqueur on an empty stomach makes that seem like not such a big deal, and she simply decides that she won’t volunteer for massage duty anymore, because obviously it was a mistake. She’d liked helping Bucky to feel better when he was hurting, but not enough to make up for having to endure the very non-platonic swooping in her belly she’d gotten from having her hands all over his naked back. Fuck, is he ever hot. Both of them are. They’re bodies are just, guh. 

She doesn’t need that frustration in her life.

She’s got a moderate buzz by the time she finishes her next project, and she cheerfully bops onto her next task. 

It’s such a relief, not having that heavy feeling of anxiousness and general uncomfortability weighing down on her. Jeez, she hadn’t even realized how bad it had gotten. She forgot how much a few drinks helped. She gets giddy and chases that feeling, quickly sneaking another quick shot (this time of the rum they use on the rum buns, though, because it really was gross that she drank that liqueur straight—blecgh). What’s one more quick drink in between batches of cakes going in and out of the oven, after all?

… And then just once more, after she’s added the last chunk of the butter into the whipping forty quart. By the time she’s got everything set out to basic-build the next bunch of babycakes, she’s in a great mood. It’s almost as good as the subspace had been, back in the beginning with Bucky. She hums songs under her breath and moves around the kitchen assembling and icing the cute little five inch cakes that are her specialty.

It’s her pet project, something she’d suggested to Mr. Flaherty, the bakery’s owner. Not only are they friggin’ adorable, they’re easy to bang out a bunch of them all at once, small enough to cost pennies to make, and big enough and cute enough that people are willing to pay way more than the cakes are actually worth. Mary knows for a fact that they have the highest profit margin of any item in the bakery. She’s privately very proud that Mr. Flaherty had listened to her idea and decided it was something they would offer on the regular menu. Dennis had underplayed it—like the jealous killjoy he is. 

Mary celebrates her good mood with another teeny sip of booze and then spends extra effort on smooth-icing in all the best pastel colors, thinking that today is a great day and can only get better from here.

Wrongo bongo.

“What the heck!”

“Oh, shit,” Mary hisses, running into the back when she smells burning bread and hears her manager’s voice calling out. Sure enough, Dennis is there, oven mitts in hand, angrily sliding a tray of blackened croissants onto the speed rack, and going back to the oven to pull out another. There are six trays of ruined croissants, and Mary grimaces “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

Dennis ignores her until he’s finished pulling out all the wasted product, and when he’s done, he lays her out. “This isn’t fucking Panera Bread,” he tells her angrily. “We’re a mom and pop bakery. Profit margins are slimmer than slim!”

Mary cringes. “I know, I know, I’m sor—”

“How much money did you just cost us?” Dennis demands, hands on his hips. “Huh? Tell me. I want you to stand there and think about it and tell me how much.”

Mary stares for a second, then realizes that he’s dead serious. Humiliated, she licks her lips and does the math: 6 trays of 10 = 60 croissants, 60 x $4 per ganache-stuffed croissant, minus about $30 ingredients cost. It takes her longer than it normally would, since she’s been drinking, but when she’s worked it out she winces and looks down in shame. “I dunno … A little over two hundred, I guess.”

Dennis flails his hand holding the oven mitts. “We can’t afford to have you ruining hundreds of dollars of profit, Mary. Get it together.”

She frowns, indignant. “I was up front helping a customer,” she defends. 

“That’s what the oven timer is for.”

“I know that. I just forgot to—”

“You’re forgetting a lot of things lately.” He gestures angrily at the trays of blackened croissants. “I’ve tried to help you. I gave you time off to get your shit together when your boyfriend came in and told me about your mental condition.”

Mary grits her teeth. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Dom, dungeon master, whatever,” he says nastily. “I don’t know what you people get up to. But I’ve given you a lot of chances cause you’re apparently dealing with some shit. I can’t keep doing that forever if you keep costing this place money.”

Mary glares and steps up closer, getting in his face. “Maybe if you actually hired someone for front of house on Tuesdays, then I could actually focus back here!”

Dennis’ expression changes suddenly. He narrows his eyes at her and leans in closer. “What’s that?” he says, deathly quiet.

Mary huffs. “I said, you need to hire more—”

“You smell like alcohol.”

Everything comes to a stop as his words hit her like a bucket of ice water. Oh, fuck. She takes a step back, shaking her head. “What?” She scowls like that’s absurd, about to say something to deny it, but the words die on her lips when she sees the way Dennis is looking at her. He knows. Mary feels sick.

Dennis’ expression darkens further. “Are you drinking on the job, Mary?”

“No!” (what’s she supposed to do, tell the truth?)

“I don’t believe you.” He squares his jaw. “I’m calling Mr. Flaherty in.”

“What?!” 

“Two hundred dollars of wasted product? Drinking on the job?” He’s already walking over to the wall phone and picking it up. When he looks back in Mary’s direction, there’s a gleam in his eyes. Fucker never did like her. “I told him I thought you had a drinking problem, and now I have proof.”

“You don’t have shit!” Mary cries. She’s actually panicking though, as she watches him dial the number to call the bakery’s owner. 

“I have the security cameras,” he says, looking vindictively pleased. “We’ll check them. You’re gonna be out of a job.” 

Mary stands there and watches in horrified disbelief as Dennis calls Mr. Flaherty and tells him that he needs to have a word with him in person that afternoon about “something serious.” He doesn’t give details, and when the call ends and he hangs up the phone, he shoots Mary a smug look. “I’ll work the register so that you can finish your shift back here and not make any more stupid mistakes.” 

Mary scoffs, panicked and angry and sick to her stomach with what’s happening. “No way! Forget it!” She hurries to untie her apron and yank it off. “I’m not gonna stick around here for you to lie and get me fired. I quit!” She tosses the apron to the floor and stalks back to grab her purse from the office, too panicked to think straight. She cannot stay there and see poor old Mr. Flaherty watch video evidence of her drinking on the job. He’s always been so nice to her, and now she’s betrayed him and fucked everything up. She’s just ruined the only job she’s ever liked. 

Dennis is getting less and less angry and more gleeful about it. “Bye bye, Hot-Mess Mary,” he sneers. “Don’t bother coming back. We’ll mail you your last paycheck. Have a nice life.”

“Fuck you, Dennis!” she yells, though her voice comes out choked with emotion. She shoulders her purse and whirls around before there’s any chance of him seeing her tearing up. She hurries for the back door that leads out to the alleyway. It's heavy and metal, and she shoulders it open with a grunt, stepping out. “Jealous prick,” she says, only to hear him laugh meanly and call out from inside,

“Jealous? Of you? An alcoholic pervert?”

The heavy back door slams shut before she can answer, and there’s no handle on the outside. It takes approximately two point five seconds for her to burst out crying.

Steve

“Fuck, Honey, ugh.”

Steve digs his fingers into the meat of Bucky’s ass and shuffles closer on his knees. On the couch (whose cushions have since been put back into place), Bucky parts his legs even farther and Steve takes him in deeper. His other hand keeps nudging the toy that’s buried in his husband’s ass—the glass p-spot toy, because unlike Steve, Bucky loves firmness but hates vibrations up there. Steve’s been gently fucking him with it, nudging it against his prostate again and again, having found the perfect angle. Every grunt and moan that he gets out of Bucky has his own cock throbbing in his underwear, but he isn’t touching himself, is devoting every ounce of his attention to resolving the “problem” that Mary’s massage left Bucky with. 

“You know,” Bucky says, voice a little breathy as he speaks between groans. “I’m never gonna—nnh. Never gonna look at this couch again without thinking of her oily hands sliding all over my back."

Steve hums in agreement, the sound reverberating around Bucky’s cock and pulling another hiss from him. Steve pops off to glance upwards. “Me too,” he says, and they share a look of heated yearning, before he shakes it off and sinks his mouth back down on Bucky’s throbbing length.

He’s been dragging it out, having fun with it. But now it’s gotten sloppy and wet, and Steve’s jaw aches, and he really wants to make Bucky come so he can finally get a hand around himself. He hums around Bucky’s cock once more while he still can, then takes him all the way to the hilt, nose pressing into his pubes and throat spasming around the head.

“Oh! shit …” Bucky’s fingers dig sharply into Steve's scalp. His hips stutter up of their own accord, making Steve choke a little, but he soldiers on. Bucky makes a helpless little sound that is very close to a whimper, and which has Steve’s belly pulling tight with arousal. “Close, Baby. So close, fuck …”

Steve purposefully chokes himself, letting it hit the back of his throat again and again, swallowing compulsively. It gets him what he wants, which is for this blowjob to be over.

Above him, Bucky slumps further on the cushions and groans long and low, the tortured moan letting Steve know that he’s cresting that edge. He pulls back to suck hard on the head, abandoning the toy to the clenching of Bucky's ass so he can stroke him through it. He hums happily when he feels the pulse of Bucky’s cock on his tongue, the hot spurts of cum, the clenching of thighs muscle beneath his hands. Fuck, it’s sexy. 

Having been with the man for so long, Steve knows exactly when to ease off. He gentles his touch and stops sucking. He waits with Bucky’s softening cock in his mouth, not pulling off until the hands that were gripping him desperately a moment ago smooth gently through his hair in gratitude. Steve pulls off, keeps his mouth closed, doesn’t swallow. Bucky’s flushed and wet cock falls onto his belly, gorgeously swollen and spent. Steve’s staring at it covetously when Bucky gives a long, shaky exhale from above, tapering off in a satisfied groan. “Stevie,” he sighs happily. “Mmhh. Fuck. C’mere.” 

He pulls Steve up onto the couch, not satisfied until he’s got him in his lap. Steve straddles him and smiles with his mouth still closed. “Good boy,” Bucky whispers, reaching up to gently cup the front of his neck. His eyes are heavy lidded but still heated as he strokes his thumb over Steve’s windpipe. He loves to watch Steve swallow his cum, and that’s why Steve hasn’t yet, is waiting for his signal. He’s very good at making a show of it: dragging it out, eye contact, showing the load on his tongue if Bucky wants, swallowing slowly and obviously; really turning it into an act of obedience for his husband.

He’s surprised when Bucky doesn’t tell him to swallow. “Hold it,” he says instead, confusing Steve. Bucky grins devilishly and reaches down between their bodies. He returns with the glass toy in hand and holds it up. “Get it wet," he purrs.

And Steve’s entire body goes stiff as he re-remembers that he’s married to the filthiest man on the fucking planet.

Steve must be filthy too, though, because a massive wave of arousal sweeps through him as Bucky holds up the toy with a dirty smirk and commands him to wet it up—with his own cum. Steve almost feels lightheaded from how all the blood rushes to his cock and away from his brain. He groans through his mouthful of cum, and Bucky’s lips curl. “You heard me. Do it.”

He looks down and aims, letting his mouthful of cum slide out onto the tip of the glass toy that was buried in Bucky’s ass not ten seconds ago. It’s obscene, filthy, and that only makes his belly swirl that much harder as Bucky uses his flesh fingertips to spread the cum around lazily, coating the clear glass with his own sticky cum. “Good,” he praises, still smirking at Steve through half lidded eyes. “Now, put it in.” 

Steve groans and takes the toy from him. They haven’t done prep, but it’s a small, slim toy, and he knows it’ll slide in easily with the help of his husband’s own jizz slicking the way. Jesus Christ. He starts to move, intending to take his underwear off, but Bucky stops him with an amused shake of the head.

“Uh uh. Just pull ‘em aside and put it in. Keep your briefs on.”

“Fuck.” He listens, reaching back to pull his underwear to the side and press the head of the toy to his rim. He works it inside, eyelids fluttering when it pops past the muscle and glides in smoothly. “Oh,” he sighs, letting his underwear snap back and shifting his hips to feel the stretch against his rim, the heavy curve of it settling into place against his prostate. “Fuck.” He starts rocking his hips in tiny motions to work it inside him, barely-there sounds of pleasure escaping him each time it does. “Ooh, Buck,” he breathes. He doesn’t realize his eyes have closed until Bucky startles him with a kiss, growling and tugging him in close by the back of the neck. “Mmph!”

Their lips clash in a harsh, demanding kiss, Bucky taking possession of it and gripping the back of his neck hard to keep him still. Steve pants and whines and takes it, hips juddering forward to grind his aching dick against Bucky’s stomach. Each dominating swipe of Bucky’s tongue into his mouth makes him ache for more. “Buck,” he pants, right against Bucky's lips, where he's shamelessly kissing his messy mouth. “Baby, oh, please?”

“Yeah?” His hand cups Steve from over his underwear, squeezing the line of his erection. “You’re so fucking amazing, you know that?” he husks, dipping under the waistband to curl his fingers around him. “Make me feel so good, fuck, I love you.”

Steve moans and rests his forehead on Bucky's naked shoulder, looking down to watch. He whines when he sees that it’s the metal hand—which he already knew by feel, but the sight of it is a whole other level of hot. Steve thinks of it like a knife kink, or a gun kink: seeing something so steely and dangerous that close to him, wrapped around and working him, giving him pleasure. The sight of all that black and gold metal on his cock makes his belly clamp down hard in need. “Oh fuck, ” he breathes. “Oh. Fuck.”

“Yeah, Sweetheart.” Bucky kisses his ear and breathes hotly against him as he pumps and twists his hand, going tight just the way Steve likes. It’s messy from the precum that Steve’s dick keeps blurting out, and he whimpers at the soft, wet sounds it begins making. “I know,” Bucky whispers. “You get so worked up. I love that. Big fat cock n’ balls, but you wet up for me just like a girl, dontcha' Sweetheart? Bet you started right down there on your knees, too. Hard and leaking just from sucking me off, making a mess in your panties.” Steve groans in embarrassment and Bucky snickers. “Aw, don’t try to deny it. I saw that boner when you crawled on up here. Saw the wet spot on those tighty-whities, too.” Playfully, he snaps the elastic band of Steve’s underwear against his hip. “You get off on it. Pretty little cocksucker.”

Steve humps into his fist, which between how slick it is and how tightly Bucky’s gripping him, feels fucking amazing. “Nnuhh,” he moans, “I get off on you. You were so—fuck, mmph—so hard when she left. I f-felt bad for you.”

Bucky growls and strokes faster. “Don’t be patronizing, baby. I saw the state she left you in. At least I had the excuse of getting rubbed down.” He snickers lowly and presses another kiss to Steve's ear. “She wasn’t even touching you.”

“Fuck,” Steve says tightly, as he recalls the image of Mary sitting on the bed with Bucky, rubbing his naked back with her oiled hands—Her tiny oiled hands, that would look so good on their cocks. Fuck, he’s going to come embarrassingly fast. He pants, trying to get words out. “I—nuhh, oh. I wanted to—mmm …”

Bucky bites his earlobe. “Wanted to what? Tell me.”

“Wanted to watch her give you a happy ending,” he grunts. “Tell you to turn over n’ watch her jerk you off.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asks, voice dark and interested. “Mm. You miss women.” Steve whines and nods in lieu of an answer. “Well maybe we’ll get a third sometime. A special treat. Only this time we'll get a girl, take turns fucking her. Maybe I’ll even have her fuck you with a strap-on.” Steve moans and kisses him dirtily, and Bucky reciprocates, hand leaving Steve’s cock so he can hold his jaw with both hands. 

Steve whimpers and his hips keep moving, chasing the friction that isn’t there anymore. “Buck,” he breaks off from the kiss to beg. “Please. Please. I need to cum.”

Bucky smiles and takes pity on him, but he switches up his hands, using the flesh one on Steve’s cock so that he can squeeze even more, really wringing up hard and thumbing under the head on every stroke. Steve sobs and sits back, bracing on Bucky’s shoulders and watching himself fuck into clench of his fist. “Yeah,” he moans. “Oh, God. Fuck yeah, just like that.”

“How’s that toy feel?” Bucky reaches his other hand underneath and taps against the glass toy’s base a few times— ‘tap, tap, tap,’ —humming in satisfaction when Steve cries out and ruts desperately into his fist. “Ooh,” he goads. “It feels that good, huh?” Tap, tap, tap. “It that gonna make you cum?”

“Nnnh.” Steve nods tightly, hips working hard. “Yeah, oh. Yeah. M’gonna. Ohgn…”” 

His balls draw up tight and his cock jerks when Bucky takes hold of the toy’s base and starts slowly pulling it out. That feeling against his rim is what does it, pushing him over the edge and making the pleasure coalesce and snap.

He cries out sharply as he shoots, his body straining and hips pulsing, ribbons of white cum striping over Bucky’s naked stomach, one after another.

“Fuck, Honey. So beautiful. Fuck that’s a lot. Fuck. Lookit’ you, big boy.”

His cooing praise drags it out longer, and by the time Steve’s dick is spent and softening again, he’s collapsed forward against Bucky, mess of cum between them be damned. He rests his head on his shoulder and hugs him while he recovers. “Fuck,”  pants, closing his eyes and enjoying the sheer relief of it all. “That was good. I needed that.”

Bucky hums and rubs his back. “Me too.”

When they finally peel themselves off each other, they’re faced with two wet, spent dicks, and the mess of cum that did not magically disappear just because Steve wanted it to. He sighs and climbs off the couch.

“Shower,” Bucky decides, and goes into the bathroom with Steve following behind. He starts the water running and shucks his joggers that he'd only just pulled back up. “Feel like we were just doin’ this,” he complains.

“That’s cause we were.” Steve pads over and stands against him, leaning in, chest to chest.

Bucky leans against the wall and wraps his arms around Steve’s lower back while they wait for the water to warm up. “Do you really want a threesome?” he asks. “Like we used to do?" 

Steve sighs and presses his forehead into Bucky’s chest. His first inclination is to say yes. They used to sleep with men, have threesomes a few times a year, for fun. They’d only stopped because they’d mutually fallen into contentment with married life. But Steve realizes it’s the way Bucky’s framed it: does he want to have threesomes again. With a girl. And the answer is no. Steve doesn’t want to have 'a threesome' anymore, with 'a girl', or 'a guy'. He doesn’t want anything casual. He says as much, and groans into Bucky’s skin. “I just want her,” he says. “I want it to be serious, and I want it with her.”

Bucky strokes his back, not saying anything for a long minute. “Yeah,” he eventually agrees. “Me too.” 

Steve makes a mournful sound in his throat. “Can’t we try? Maybe ask her out on a date? She might come around if she doesn’t feel like we’re just trying to jump her bones straight away, y’know? We’ve never really had that time with her. It went straight from ‘how do you do’ to moving her in here with us.” Bucky’s chest rises and falls with a deep inhale, and his hands have stopped moving on Steve’s back, which is how Steve knows he's really thinking about it. “Buck?” he tries. “C’mon. Let’s just give it a shot. Linda said she needs sex anyways, and I know you don’t like the idea of her with another man.”

Against him, bucky growls grumpily.

“Just one more try,” Steve pleads. “Let’s just tell her upfront we have feelings for her and that we’d like to court her.”

Bucky snorts. "'Court’?”

Steve whaps him and pulls his head back. “You know what I mean. Nice stuff. Take her out, buy her flowers.” 

“I know what you mean.”

They stare in each other's eyes as Steve reaches over to feel the shower water. It's warm. “It’ll be her choice," he says. "We won’t be bossy.”

“Kind of hard not to be bossy when she thrives on that.”

Steve gives him a look. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs. “Yeah I know what you mean.” He pulls the curtain and goes to step into the shower, but Steve stops him from behind with a hand on his arm—his left one. “And this,” he says, looking at him with authority. “Let me take this off. And you keep it it off around the house like you used to do.” He watches the brief reluctance that plays out on Bucky’s face, but is relieved when his husband doesn’t turn it into a fight. “Thank you, babe,” he says, taking the arm off and setting it out on their bed before returning to the bathroom. Bucky’s in the shower, so he steps in and stands with him under the spray. He wraps his arms around Bucky from behind, letting his left hand drag up over his stomach and chest, up to the anchor site where it meets his pec. “You can be a good Dom without it, you know,” he murmurs. 

“... I know. It was silly.”

He kisses Bucky’s shoulder. “Not silly. I love you.” In his arms, Bucky’s body bleeds all its tension and he lets a little bit of his weight come back through Steve, who kisses his neck again. “Tonight?” he asks, knowing that Bucky will know what he means. 

Bucky nods. “Tonight.”

Bucky

“A bar?!”

"Yeah. Leave me alone."

Bucky stares helplessly as Mary kicks off her shoes and walks (stumbles, is more like it) through the apartment and back towards her bedroom. The conversation they've just had was short and completely non-productive, other than that it's got Bucky feeling like he's on the verge of blowing up. “Mare, stop! Come back here.”

She throws him the finger over her shoulder and pushes into her bedroom, shutting the door harshly behind her. Bucky growls and starts for the hallway, but Steve stops him with a hand to his shoulder, pulling him back. “Hang on, Babe.”

“She’s drunk!” Bucky hisses, turning furious eyes to Steve. “Been missing for hours and now this?! How did she even get it?”

“I know, I know.”

Bucky snarls, mad at Steve for being so fucking calm. “Did you give her her ID back?!”

“No! Don’t be stupid, babe.”

His eyes cut over, sharp. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve looks like he’s trying not to roll his eyes. “She’s thirty Hon. I’m sure there are plenty of bartenders who’d serve her without checking.”

“Well that’s just, just …” Bucky sputters, struggling to find the words. “There have to be consequences!” He starts for the hall again but Steve grabs him and pulls him back and into a restraining hug. Bucky kind of wants to hit him. “Steve!”

“Shh,” Steve says. “Sh sh, just hang on a second. Take a deep breath.” He holds him tightly, rubbing his back and nosing at his neck, and Bucky realizes that Steve is employing some of the things he’s learned at the CDP, trying to calm him down.

He blinks, noticing how hot his face feels, how fast his pulse is thrumming underneath his skin. He exhales shakily, feeling bad. “Fuck. I'm ..."

"Yeah."

"Sorry.” 

“S’okay,” Steve whispers. “Maybe today’s not the best day, after all.”

Bucky’s eyes flick over in the direction of the kitchen table. “Better get rid of those, then,” he grunts, referring to the flowers Steve had picked up at the bodega for Mary.

“I will. And we’ll figure this out, find out what happened, and talk to her another day, okay? We'll get new flowers.” 

“No, not okay,” Bucky insists, his anxiety ratcheting up again as he thinks of the state Mary just came home in. “We need to deal with her.” 

Steve pulls back and meets his eyes, and Bucky feels like an asshole all over again. “What do you need?” Steve asks quietly.

Bucky grits his teeth. To spank the ever loving shit outta that girl, he thinks but doesn’t say. He knows better than that, even on the verge of an episode, he can tell that he’s not being logical. He closes his eyes and tries to take deep breaths, pulls away from Steve because he’s embarrassed. “Nothin’.”

“Hey, it’s okay to need—”

“It’s not,” Bucky snaps, walking over to the couch and dumping himself onto it. He feels kind of sick—likely his blood pressure making him nauseous. “How am I supposed to be a good Dom for her when I can’t even keep myself in check? Christ.” He shoves his face into his hand. “I’m supposed to be better than this.”

Steve takes a minute, and when he approaches Bucky it’s with a gentle, careful expression that Bucky hates. “Babe, you know that makes no sense, right?” Bucky just grunts and Steve says, “That's like a diabetic saying they should have better willpower to control their insulin levels.”

Bucky glares at him for the trite comparison, wants to snap at his husband to stop quoting CDP literature at him. But that’d be nasty, and he bites his tongue. “No,” he grunts.

“You got told by Linda that you’re not giving her enough, not doing enough to meet her needs, and it’s been days since you really went up. You think I can't see that her drops aren't doing it for you now? You're too in tune with her. You both need more. And I should’ve seen this coming.” Steve sinks down to the carpet in front of him and kneels there reaching to rub his palms over the tops of Bucky’s thighs.

Bucky scowls at the gesture. “That’s not your job,” he says. “You shouldn’t have to—”

“I’m your husband,” Steve says, almost authoritatively, even though he’s keeping his voice soft and calm like the Center professionals taught him. “It’s my job to take care of you, always.” He rubs Bucky’s tense muscles from over his jeans. “Babe, c’mon. Let me help you.”

Bucky closes his eyes and counts to twenty. When he opens them again, Steve’s still there, waiting. Bucky reaches out and cups his face.

Steve presses into it. “Sir,” he whispers, eyes lowered.

Bucky feels so guilty at that, even as he can feel his blood pressure lowering from the small display of subservience. “I love you,” he says.

Steve smiles softly and squeezes his hands over Bucky’s knees. “I know.”

Bucky sighs. He releases Steve and slumps back into the couch cushions, feeling like the biggest burden. “I should call and book someone,” he says. Steve’s not a submissive and he shouldn’t have to play that role just to fulfill Bucky’s medical needs. Linda’s helped him come to terms with that over the years. Steve, the self-sacrificing punk, would do it anyway, but Bucky knows when he needs to ask for outside help. “Nathan can usually take me last minute.” Steve nods and stands up, brings Bucky his cellphone to make the call. He sits on the couch with him and pulls Bucky to lie with his head in his lap as he calls the Center and makes an appointment. “Okay,” he says when he’s done, tossing the phone aside. “Six-thirty. He’s coming in after hours just for little old me.”

“Good.”

Bucky’s eyes cut sideways towards the bedroom hallway. Their plans for the night are ruined, and if he didn’t have himself to deal with right now, he’d be hard pressed to keep himself from going in Mary’s room, trying to scold her. “What about her?” he asks glumly.

Steve snorts. “Little miss drunk? She’s probably passed out. Don’t worry about it. Besides,” he runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair.  “Can’t reason with someone when they’re like that. Discussion, punishment, scening? That’ll all have to wait until tomorrow, at least.”

Bucky makes a face and tries not to let his dominance start spiraling out of control again. “She’s going to AA.” Steve hums, and when Bucky looks up and catches his expression, Steve looks like he’s worrying for his safety. “Tomorrow,” he insists, obstinate. “I’ll take the day from work if I have to. Drag her there myself.”

“Maybe no dragging."

"Steve,"

"Linda first,” Steve suggests gently. “That’s a better first step, hm?” Bucky grunts, grumpy about it but knowing Steve’s right. He nods, and Steve runs kind hands through his hair. “Okay, good. That’s settled. Don’t have to think about it any more tonight.” He bends down and pecks a quick kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “So, six-thirty?”

“Mmhm.”

“An hour. … You want to help me get dinner started before you go?”

Bucky nods, turning and pressing his face into Steve’s lower belly, rubbing his cheek against his soft tee shirt and warm body. “Love you,” he mumbles, feeling sheepish from his outburst before. He knows it’s not his fault, but he still feels inordinately grateful to have Steve supporting him. “You ever get tired of all this drama?”

“Shuddup,” Steve chuckles.

“Mm. You should leave me for a normie." He’s got his eyes closed against Steve’s stomach, but feels the reproachful pinch on his neck. “Ow.”

“If I’d wanted a normie, I’d have married a normie,” Steve scolds. He pets over where he pinched. “And apparently I’m a glutton for punishment, cause I’ve got my sights set on another one’a you jerks. This is just a setback. We’ll let her sober up, you’ll go see the Pro, and then when everybody’s in the right frame of mind, we’ll deal with it. Now come on.” He pats Bucky on the back. “Mary's not the only one who can navigate a kitchen. I’ve got a recipe for chicken piccata we can try.”

Bucky sighs. He’s so fucking in love with Steve, and he’s never got any good way to say it. There's nothing. Wedding vows barely scratched the surface. “Okay,” he says, because what else is there to do but agree? Like most times, Bucky knows his more level-headed husband is right about this.

They get up and go into the kitchen to start pulling the ingredients for chicken piccata, and Bucky is able to keep his mouth shut for a full five minutes before his anxiety ratchets back up and he returns to haranguing Steve about confronting Mary—possibly later that night.

*Next chapter starts out IMMEDIATELY with the big confrontation and beginning of their romantic and sexual relationship, so I promise y'all won't have to wait much longer!

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[sjsmith56]

Mr. Barnes Seizes the Day

Summary - AU one shot. Mr. Barnes, a bachelor grammar school principal romances a spinster teacher on his staff, after receiving his orders to report for duty in WW II.

Length: 6.5 K

Characters: James Barnes, named OFC.

Warnings: lack of confidence, fear of rejection, no smut although it is implied.

Author notes: Was going to wait on posting this but these recent pictures brought up an idea for a story. Other writers may see him as a mobster, but in this AU I see him as an unmarried school principal contemplating his life choices and deciding to do something about it.  Carpe diem is Latin, translated often to "seize the day." Images of Sebastian Stan by @popeofthebowery. 

Brooklyn, January 1943

He looked in the mirror as he did his tie, the same colour tie he had worn every school day for 18 years.  It had always been a black tie with a white shirt, a black sweater vest, and black suit, black shoes; his current uniform, soon to be replaced by a pink and green one.  The new uniform would actually be a dark olive drab jacket over a lighter shade drab for the trousers but he had it on good authority that the officers in the army called them pinks and greens.  It was going to be quite the change for the 40-year-old bachelor. 

James Barnes looked once again at the orders he received in the mail yesterday, to report for basic training, followed by officer school.  After all the years of being regarded as too soft to be anything but a teacher, Mrs. Barnes only son Bucky was going to war.  Not that the staff at the school knew him as Bucky.  To them, he was always Mr. Barnes, a quiet, bearded, unmarried man who seemed destined to always be alone.  After Ma died, he had been just that as his sisters were busy with their own families.  Well, at least with him being in the army, he would be going somewhere, doing something, instead of just being the principal at a grammar school in Brooklyn.  He sighed.  Maybe, just maybe he could get past his usual introverted nature and go out with a woman before he left.  Perhaps he could even finally get up the nerve to ask Miss Heathcott to dinner, or at least a walk in the park.  It had only been 12 years since she first joined the staff at the grammar school.  He really should have asked her out then when he was still a young man and had more to offer than the confirmed bachelor he now was.  How she was still unmarried was beyond him but maybe she was waiting for the right man.

He combed his hair into its usual place, put his vest on and went to the window, just like he did every weekday morning to see the weather, confirming that it looked like another grey winter day.  He turned around, taking in his two-bedroom apartment, his haven after a busy day dealing with the stress of running a school.  The bookcases full of his favourite titles, the gramophone, and records of the jazz music he loved, were his escape from his loneliness.  It suddenly bothered him that it would all be sitting here, unused unless he could find someone to sublet it to, someone who would look after it for him so that when he returned, he could live the quiet life again in his personal haven.

After his usual breakfast of two boiled eggs, toast and coffee, Mr. Barnes washed up the dishes, brushed his teeth, put his jacket on, then his overcoat, and his hat, ready for the brief walk to the subway station.  When he got there a lineup awaited him.  Now that gasoline and rubber were rationed, many people had to put their cars up on blocks and switch to public transportation.  It had made commuting longer and more crowded.  He stood in the packed train car, holding onto the strap that hung down from the top bar, trying to keep a respectable distance from the women who had joined the work force since the men were called to war.  At his stop, several others got off, going their different ways after leaving the station.  It was only a few minutes walk to the school, and he fished his master keys out.  Only he and the head custodian had them.  Mr. Barnes usually unlocked the school in the morning, Mr. Santucci locked it up at night.  He turned on the lights from the master electrical panel, then entered his office, taking his overcoat off.  Checking the thermostat, he made sure it read 72°, so that it would be warm for the children by the time they got there.  Then he started up the coffee urn in the staff room, before unlocking the staff door, knowing that they would start arriving within the next quarter hour.  It was all part of his usual morning routine, and it suddenly struck him how much he was stuck in that rut of duty, habit, and dullness.  Leaning against an empty wall he wondered what he had become.

He was still standing in the staff room, waiting for the coffee to finish percolating, so he could empty the used grounds then clean the filter, to prevent the coffee from becoming bitter, when Miss Heathcott arrived.  She stepped inside, surprised to see Mr. Barnes leaning against a wall, looking down to the floor but not seeing anything.  He seemed a little pensive, then he heard her and straightened up, giving her a small smile.

"Good morning, Miss Heathcott," he said, politely, trying to restore his usual projection of calm leadership.  "You're early today."

"I had some final preparations for art class," she answered, taking her coat off and hanging it up in the closet.  "Is everything alright, Mr. Barnes?  You seem a little preoccupied."

"I am a little," he answered truthfully.  "I have an important announcement for the staff, but I'll wait for everyone to arrive before I make it.  It will only take a few moments between first bell and final bell."  He moved over to a chalkboard in the staff room.  "I guess I should put that down so that people return in time to hear the announcement.  Coffee is made if you wish to have some.  I still have to empty and clean the filter."

"Thank you," she smiled.  "I will.  I can clean the filter for you, since you were thoughtful enough to get it started."

She poured herself a coffee then opened the top and carefully lifted the filter with the steaming grounds out of the urn, aware that he was watching her.  Why it made her a little nervous today was a mystery to her.  They had worked together in the school for twelve years, her entire school career.  He had been a 5th grade teacher when she started fresh out of college.  Promoted to assistant principal ten years ago, and principal four years ago, he was still a handsome man and she had wondered if they could ever have more than a working relationship.  But his introverted nature, especially around women, became clear soon enough and she gave up any hope of him noticing her in a romantic sense, resigning herself to being a spinster since other men seemed as indifferent to her.  Still, he was always a gentleman, and an effective manager of their staff as he was quite unflappable by the shenanigans of some students, as well as being well respected by the parents.

Leaving the staff room to don his overcoat again and take on the supervision of arriving students, Mr. Barnes greeted everyone as they arrived.  There was always a persistent group of children around him, sharing the details of their lives.  He took it all in good stride, knowing from experience that for those children from a single parent family, they needed the attention of another adult to hear their thoughts and observations.  It was also a way for him to learn who was having difficulties with the necessities of life or dealing with issues that could be overwhelming.  For the children who were smaller, weaker, and prone to bullying, he was their knight in shining armour, making it very clear that particular behaviour was not tolerated at his school.  It was all part of keeping the school running efficiently while providing a safe learning environment.

Before the first bell sounded, he asked some of the more responsible students in the 5th grade to shepherd the younger students to their rooms as he had a brief staff meeting to attend.  When the bell sounded, he made sure everyone was lined up, filed inside in an orderly fashion, then he went straight to the staff room, removing his overcoat along the way.  The talking in the staff room stopped as he entered, placed his overcoat on a chair and stepped towards the chalkboard.

"Thank you for being here on time," he said.  "There is some important news to share after I received a letter in the mail yesterday.  I am to report for basic army training in one month.  After 8 weeks I am to attend officer training school, after which I will be sent to the European theatre.  I haven't informed the superintendent yet, but I will as soon as the morning classes start.  I will recommend that Mr. Miller be promoted to principal in my absence, but the final decision is with the administration of our school district, as are any decisions regarding assistant principal.  The parents and student body will be informed once we get the confirmation of the transfer of responsibility."

He waited for questions.  Since there weren't any, he nodded his head briefly at the staff, then left, picking up his overcoat along the way.  Mrs. Hardy, his secretary, followed a few minutes later, taking her position at the desk in the front office, while he hung his overcoat up.  He came out again, to supervise in the hallways before the final bell rang, signalling the start of the school day.  Satisfied that everyone was where they should be he returned to the office and sat at his desk to make that phone call to the superintendent's office.  With that out of the way, he began dealing with the school budget. 

That lasted until two boys were brought into the office by Miss Heathcott, both boys appearing very sullen.  She left them in the outer office then appeared at Mr. Barnes' door to explain the situation before returning to her classroom.  He couldn't help but watch her leave wondering why it made him feel like he was being left behind.  Putting that aside he dealt with the boys' dispute, listening to their versions of it as he sat in his chair, his hand on his jaw.  Their dispute was based on a game of marbles that resulted in one of the boys losing his boulder aggie, large agate marble for those who never played.  He told them a story of his boyhood friend who died of polio at the age of 10.  Steve and he played marbles all the time, regularly winning and losing against each other but never letting the heat of the game interfere with their friendship. 

"When he died his ma gave me his marbles, knowing that he would want me to have them.  She said I could give them to my sons, except I don't have any because I never got married.  You two remind me of us, except we never fought each other or called each other names, other than jerk or punk.  I miss him, every day of my life.  Marbles are just things, to be won and to be lost.  But friendship lasts a lifetime and beyond.  Don't let the marbles make you enemies.  Now, if you two can show me that you can get along and maybe become friends, I might be persuaded to give you a bag of marbles that have some dandies in them.  But you have to prove that you're worthy of them.  Can you boys do that for me?"

They both promised and Mr. Barnes walked the boys back to the classroom, making it clear he expected them to apologize to their classmates and Miss Northcott for interrupting the class.  With a nod to the woman teacher who smiled warmly at him in a way that he felt deep inside, he returned to his office and the matter of the budget for the rest of the day.  When classes were dismissed, Mr. Barnes usually insisted that all teachers make an appearance outside the school, both to make sure the students were dispersed and to be a visible presence for any parents who were there.  In his experience he found some parents, especially those from certain families were uncomfortable inside the school but found it easier to approach a teacher outside.  Today there were a few inquiries but nothing that wasn't handled quickly.  More than once he found his attention drawn to Miss Heathcott, her caramel-coloured hair shining in the winter sunlight and her cheeks pink from the brisk air.  Had she always been this beautiful?  The answer was yes but she seemed even more beautiful today.

Most of the teachers stayed for a time to prepare for the next day classes, but Mr. Barnes was always the last one of out the school, other than the custodians.  It was just the way he was.  Walking through the hallways to find out who was still present before he finally left, he was surprised to see Miss Northcott still in her classroom, considering she was in early that morning.  He watched her for several moments, unseen by her.  Intently focused on some papers on her desk, strands of her hair had worked their way over her face, and he wondered if it was as soft as it looked.  Knocking gently on her door frame, he stood in the doorway, as she looked up at him.  Her eyes were a little red.  Had she been crying?

"You're here late.  Is everything alright?"

Embarrassed, she looked away briefly.  "Mostly."  She gave a nervous laugh.  "I know that's not much of an answer.  I guess I'm a little concerned about you going to war.  It will be different here, without you."

He approached her desk, deciding to be bold for once in his life.

"Would you go out with me?" he asked.  "Dinner, or even just a walk on an afternoon this weekend?"

She looked up at him again, noticing how his distinctive blue eyes held their gaze on her.  She could get lost in those eyes.

"A walk sounds nice," she said.  "Here, or in the city?"

He smiled, his even white teeth adding to his handsome features.  "Central Park.  I can meet you at the subway or there at the park."

"At the park is fine," she said.  "Saturday, at 2 pm, at the boathouse ice rink?  Perhaps we can rent skates."

Envisioning the possibility of his arm around her waist as they skated in Central Park he agreed to her suggestion and the date was made.  As he waited for her to put her coat and galoshes on in the staff room before he left, he was filled with an anticipation he hadn't felt in years.  For the remainder of the week, it was challenging to keep their mind on their work.  Both of them, alone and lonely, wondered if perhaps this could be the beginning of something wonderful.  It was difficult not to imagine a future together, even though they had no idea if they were compatible beyond a good work relationship.  For the first time in a long while, both individuals dared to dream of a future with someone at their side.

Then Saturday morning dawned, and Mr. Barnes looked out his window in dismay at the heavy snow that was falling.  Quickly turning on the radio he listened to the announcer describe a weather system that was supposed to go north to Canada, but instead came east to New York.  Temperatures were expected to plummet throughout the day.  It was suggested that the next few days of snowfall could shut the whole city down with the amount that was expected.  Sitting forlornly at his kitchen table, Mr. Barnes made the decision to cancel the date and pulled out his list of teacher names, addresses and telephone numbers.  As he picked out Lucy Heathcott's name in the list, he noted her address was within walking distance of his apartment.  As the phone rang, he suddenly thought of another way to see her.  It was quite improper to ask this of Miss Heathcott, but something told him that if he didn't take this chance, he might regret it for the rest of his life.  For too long he had followed the path of least resistance.  Now was the time for confidence.

"Carpe diem," he said out loud, just as the receiver on the end was picked up.

"Hello?" said a voice on the other end.  He recognized it as Miss Heathcott.  "Who is this?"

"James Barnes," he replied.  Bold, be bold.  "It seems that the weather will make our plans for Central Park unwise, but I wanted to suggest an alternative."

She was quiet for a moment.  "I'm listening."

"You don't live far from me," he said, "and I would be willing to come over and walk you back, but would you consider coming to my apartment?  We can have lunch, listen to music and talk."

He let out a shaky breath.  He had done it, had suggested something as an alternative to cancelling the date.  She was quiet again, then he heard it, an almost imperceptible whisper of carpe diem.  Was it possible that she also wished to throw caution to the wind and do something completely out of character?

"It's supposed to get worse during the day," she said, hesitantly.  "What if by the time I have to go home it is isn't possible?"

It wasn't an outright refusal, but he understood that her reputation was on the line.  She was an unmarried woman, in a position of responsibility.  If it wasn't possible for her to go home, then she would have to stay at his apartment which could reflect poorly on both of them.  He did have a second bedroom.  Why couldn't Miss Heathcott be his guest and stay in the other bedroom?  That wasn't improper, was it?

"You can stay," he answered.  "I have a second bedroom.  It was my mother's before she passed away.  You would be my guest."  He breathed out.  Carpe diem.  "It's just that I was so looking forward to spending time with you.  When I saw the snow, and heard the forecast, it made me feel that perhaps fate was conspiring against us.  Then I realized that life is a choice.  We either accept the limitations placed on us, or we strive to overcome them.  If you insist on returning to your rooming house before dark, I will make sure you get home safely."

He closed his eyes, praying that she would accept. 

"Meet me halfway," she said, after a long silence.  "I live in a rooming house and the landlady would be bothered by a man picking me up.  I'll bring some things to stay, just in case, but I don't promise anything."

An hour later Mr. Barnes met Miss Heathcott, both bundled up enough to cover their faces, but he recognized her scarf and approached her as the snow fell in large wet clumps.  Extending his hand, he took her small valise from her, then offered her his other arm for the walk back to his apartment.  It was the first time they had ever touched and her presence on his arm felt wonderful to him.  They didn't speak until they entered his building and stamped the snow off their feet.  In his apartment they removed their galoshes, and heavy overcoats, hanging them up in the closet by the door.  Both quickly ran their hands through their hair.  He took her valise, leading Miss Heathcott, Lucy, to the second bedroom, handing her luggage to her at the door.

"I'll leave you to get settled," he said.  "Would you like a coffee or would a tea interest you?"

"Tea would be nice," she answered.  "Milk, no sugar.  Thank you ... James."

Lucy came out to a tray set up on a table in the living room, with a teapot, two cups with saucers, and milk.  Taking a closer look at the living room space, she thought it felt very comfortable, with good quality furniture and decor.  Although it was not what she was expecting it showed her host in a positive light.  Noticing the full bookshelves and the record collection she smiled, somehow not surprised at what Mr. Barnes ... James, did to relax.  He came out of the kitchen, carrying a small plate of cookies, wearing a pair of brown trousers, a grey shirt, and a pullover sweater with an argyle pattern of brown and grey over it.  She must have made a noise because he looked at her, then at himself, suddenly self-conscious.

"I've never seen you wear anything other than your black suit and white shirt," she said.  "You look nice, like a different person."

"My first principal insisted on all the men teachers wearing the same suit," he answered.  "Said it was a mark of professionalism.  It just became a habit, I guess.  I usually wear something like this on the evenings and weekends.  In the summer I'm even more relaxed in appearance."  A compliment on his clothing should be returned.  "You look good, too.  I've never seen you in slacks."

"With the cold weather I thought it was prudent," she breathed.  "You live alone?"

He approached closer to where she stood.  "Yes.  My mother lived with me as my sisters are married with small children.  She became too ill to live at home and had to go into the hospital.  She passed away about three years ago.  My father died shortly after I graduated from college. I assumed responsibility for caring for my family."

"I'm sorry.  My folks are still alive but they're in Illinois.  I only get back to see them at Christmas and in the summer." 

They both stopped talking and stood there, unsure what to do next.  He gestured to an armchair for Lucy to sit in, while he sat on the couch.  Pouring her tea first, he handed her the cup and saucer, then poured some for himself.  They sipped from their cups quietly, letting the warmth of the liquid rejuvenate them.  Sitting back, Mr. Barnes crossed his legs at the knee.  Lucy stayed upright in the armchair, crossing her legs at the ankle and angling them to one side. 

"How long have you lived here?" she asked.

"10 years," he answered.  "After my sisters got married my mother's health took a turn and she was unable to be in a place with stairs.  This apartment had elevator access which was easier for her.  Taking care of her took up most of my spare time outside of the school and left no time for courting."  He sipped again.  "I don't want to give it up while I'm away so I'm looking for someone to sublet it while I am overseas."

"It's a very nice place," said Lucy.  "It feels comfortable."  I could be happy living here.  It's much nicer than the rooming house.

He suddenly leaned forward and picked up the plate of cookies offering it to her.  With a polite smile, she took one, placing it on her saucer. 

"You have an interesting assortment of books and records," she said, after she bit into her cookie.  "Have you read all of the books and listened to all of the music?"

"Yes, to both," he answered.  "I taught my sisters to dance with those records, and I've been an avid reader since I was a boy.  Do you read?"

"Yes.  I listened more to the radio for music than bought records.  Who's your favourite author?"

"I was first interested in the stories of Edgar Rice Burroughs, Jules Verne, and H.G. Wells, then I discovered The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien.  It was like being transported to another universe.  Did you know he invented several languages just for the world he created, a place he called Middle Earth?  He's a brilliant man."

"I'll have to read it."  She ate some more of her cookie.  "I'm more of a mystery fan, myself.  Agatha Christie is a favourite."

"She is a good writer."  He looked towards his bookshelf.  "I have the ones with Hercule Poirot in them.  He's a fascinating character."

Lucy beamed at James, glad to have found something in common with him.  They talked more about books, music, and movies, although both admitted they didn't go to the pictures too often.  She offered to help prepare lunch and they talked more in the kitchen about food.  They spent the afternoon listening to several radio shows, sharing the sofa.  As the day lengthened into the late afternoon, Lucy suddenly moved to the window looking out over the snowy landscape.  There were no vehicles about and only a few people were walking.  The wind had come up as well, as she could hear it whistle a little bit through the window.

"I should go home," said Lucy.  "If I wait until dark it will make it difficult to see where I'm going."

"Don't go."  James said quickly.  "I am having a wonderful time getting to know you better."

"What would people say if they knew I was here?  I could lose my job."

"But they don't know," he answered.  "Did your landlady notice you leaving with your valise?"

Lucy nodded then looked down.  "I lied and told her I was spending the night with a girlfriend whose husband had just left for England.  Said she was nervous about being alone during the snowfall."

Wringing her hands a little betrayed her distress at having to lie.  Gently, he placed one of his hands on hers, stilling her motions.  It was a little presumptuous, he knew, but he didn't want her to leave.  This had been a wonderful time for him.

"I'm glad you're here," he said.  "In the morning the snowplows will likely be out, and the footing will be easier to manage."  He looked out the window.  "By the time we got halfway you would have to walk the rest of the way alone in the dark and I couldn't ... I wouldn't leave you to do that.  The odds of your landlady seeing us would increase.  Please ... stay."

Her hands were so soft that he was unaware he was gently rubbing his thumb over the back of one of them.  She looked at it, then at him and swallowed.  Smiling, he released her hands and stepped back. 

"I'll stay but you promise to be a gentleman?"

"On my mother's memory," he replied.  "I would never force myself on you."

She took him at his word.  Even though it was cold and dark outside, inside, in his heart, he felt light and young again.  Together they prepared dinner, lighting candles on the table, and listening to orchestral music on the radio.  After washing up, they returned to the living room and sat quietly again in the stillness that seemed to amplify the beating of their hearts.

"Would you dance with me?" he asked.  "There is always nice music on the radio." 

"I'm not very good," she replied, blushing.  "I rarely get asked."

"That's alright.  Neither am I really.  All we have to do is sway and move our feet a little.  Please."

She nodded and he turned the radio on, tuning in a station with slow dance music.  Taking his hand, she tensed a little at how his other hand touched her back, bringing them closer together.  Tentatively, they began swaying to the music, and slowly relaxed into it.  He placed his head close to hers, close enough to smell her perfume and became brave enough to tell her something, when The Man I Love came on.

"Every time I hear this song, I imagine I'm in Paris," he murmured.  "I'm with a beautiful woman and we're outside a café.  The music wafts out onto the sidewalk and the only light is from the streetlamp above.  Even though there are others there, in our circle of light we feel like we're alone.  It's a warm summer night.  I'm wearing trousers and a dress shirt, no tie, and my sleeves are rolled up because of the heat, while my partner is wearing a pretty dress and heels."

She looked up at him, noticing how dark his eyes seemed.  Lucy's heart was beating so loudly, she was sure James could hear it, but he just kept looking at her.

"What happens next?" she asked. 

"Suddenly, we are alone, as everyone goes inside to refresh their drinks.  I brush my fingers along her cheek."  He stopped and brushed his fingers just above her jawline.  "Then I kiss her softly on the lips and draw her into my embrace."

Looking at his lips she opened hers slightly and he leaned over kissing her gently, pulling her into his arms, as she wrapped her arms around him.  It was every bit as nice as he imagined.  Her lips were so soft and pliable, and the touch of their tongues sent a sensation into his brain that made him want more.  How her body felt, melded with his as they held each other, reminded him of the first woman he fell in love with when he was in college. The memory of how they spent their first night together affected him physically in a way he thought was gone forever.  The song finished but neither of them heard the next song be introduced or begin as they kept the sweet connection going.  Slowly, he pulled away then caressed her face.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he said.  "Lucy, I know that we don't have long before I leave but would you allow me to see you until then?"

"To what end?" she asked.  "I've wanted to kiss you as well, but I want more than just spending time together."  She looked away, embarrassed a little.  "I felt how your body responded to me as we kissed. I know it's normal in a man, but I've never been in the position of feeling desire that way. I want more."

He gasped slightly.  What was she saying?  Carefully, he cleared his throat.

"You felt desire for me?"  She nodded.  That was unexpected.  He had accepted her caveat of being a gentleman when she agreed to stay.  "It's been a long time since I was with a lady.  College, actually.  I never expected you to ...."

She put her fingertips on his lips, and he kissed them, softening his gaze on her.  He couldn't deny that the thought of being with her in that way wasn't enticing to him, but this was new ground for him.  As a man, he wanted it but as a gentleman there was more to consider, especially for her. 

What if a child was conceived?  It would make him a cad if he was overseas and received a letter from her saying their tryst had produced a baby.  She would lose her job, be ostracized, and evicted from her rooming house, although she could live here.  He glanced around his apartment; she could live here.  What if she did so as his wife?  They had known each other for 12 years.  They weren't strangers.  He was a bachelor; she was a spinster; successful marriages had been built just on that.  With the war on, she could continue working as a married woman, if she wanted.  He looked at her upturned face, a small smile gracing it, and felt that warmth again.  Carpe diem.

"Would you marry me?" he asked.  "We could go to City Hall before it closes one day and get the licence and be married next weekend.  You could move in here, stay here while I'm away, be waiting for me when I get back.  If what we do tonight produces a child, you'll be taken care of.  If anything happens to me, all that I have will be yours."

Marry him?  Her mouth was suddenly dry, and no words were forthcoming from her lips.  A proposal certainly was unexpected.  She had crossed a boundary by coming here, then had crossed another by even suggesting they be together physically.  Now, he was offering a chance to make it right.  He was offering the protection of his name and his home by asking her to be his wife, regardless of what would come from this night.  Is that what she wanted?  Carpe diem.

"Yes."

Their kiss was brief but deep, intense, and full of anticipation. James, ever the gentleman, wanted to ensure Lucy felt safe with him. He wouldn’t be aggressive with her as it wasn’t his nature. They could begin with sharing a bed and go from there.

"Do you want to change into your nightclothes?" he asked.  "We can be in my bedroom or in yours.  Whatever you're more comfortable with."

"Yours," she said.  "I would like to change.  James, do you like me?"

He lowered his eyes and breathed out noticeably.  For a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer her or would say that he didn't.

"I have loved you from afar for a long time. If I had a flower for every time I thought of you ... I could walk through my garden forever.  Alfred, Lord Tennyson said that, and I have known that I loved you ever since the first day I laid eyes on you.  When I return, we'll have a house with a garden full of flowers.  It won't make up for the years I was too afraid to say anything, but I will say it now.  I love you, Lucy.  Now and forever, you will be in my heart."

Nothing else mattered after those words were spoken.  The kiss they shared at this moment was more intense and passionate than she had ever imagined a kiss could be.  To be wanted so much by a man, and to want him in return was the most wonderful feeling in the world.  Right now, this was their world, and they would live by their decisions.

💞 💞

June 1945

The taxi driver wouldn't take the money that Captain Barnes offered to him when he pulled up in front of the Brooklyn apartment building.  He saw the medals on the officer's uniform, then noticed the folded up left sleeve of the man's jacket.  This was a war hero, a man who lost an arm for his country, a man who made it back alive.  Today, he rode free.  With a slight smile, Barnes got out of the taxi, reaching in for his duffle bag and grasping the strap with his right hand.  As he stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the brick building that he hadn't seen in two years he wondered if Lucy would forgive him for not telling her what happened.  Might as well get it over with.

The elevator ride was slow, but it gave him time to think about all that had happened since their quick marriage, and separation after he left.  It was only six weeks into basic training that Lucy wrote him about being pregnant.  She turned the second bedroom into a nursery, selling his mother's bedroom suite, on his insistence, to pay for the baby furniture they needed.  Her letters had been filled with love and longing for the day when they would be reunited. 

When he lost his arm, just days before Germany's surrender, he couldn't bring himself to tell her.  It was hard to admit that he felt less a man than he did before.  He wasn't sure he could return to being a school principal.  Would staff and students still respect him without his arm?  Then the day came when he got his orders to report to a hospital ship returning to New York.  His stump wound was healing well so he didn't need much medical care on the trip back.  An army doctor on board told him that as a veteran he could get an artificial arm fitted, admitting they weren't the most friendly looking things, using hooks to replace a lost hand, but gave him a card for a special foundation, funded by the billionaire Howard Stark.  He was developing a new type of prosthetic for amputees and wanted men willing to try his prototypes out.  It was worth exploring.

The elevator stopped and the door opened.  Grasping his duffle bag again, Barnes walked to the door of his apartment and placed the bag on the floor, then tentatively knocked on the door.  He could hear Lucy's footsteps approaching, his heart racing with an ominous sense of foreboding.  Then it opened, and there she was, looking up at him in surprise.  Her arms went around his neck, as she cried, calling his name out over and over again.  Wrapping his right arm around her, he buried his now clean-shaven face into her neck, taking in the smell of her perfume and the softness of her hair and skin.  Then their lips met, deliriously tasting and sensing that which they had both missed since they said goodbye.  Her hands went to his arms, and it was then she noticed, as she looked from where his left arm should have been to his face and back again.

"Your arm ... you lost it."  It was said as a statement of fact.  He nodded, prepared to explain.  "Oh, my darling, my love.  If that was the price to bring you back to me then that's how it is.  For you are back, aren't you?  You are still mine?  Still my James?"

"Now and forever," he answered, almost ready to cry in relief.  He took in all of her, her face, her hair, her lips, her hands that he brought to his own lips to kiss.  "I'm home and I'm never going to war again."

She caressed his face, then kissed him again, a sweet and gentle peck that was just as loving as the passionate one shared moments earlier.  Stepping back into the apartment as he picked up his bag, she waited for him to drop it off inside the door, then he took his cap off, placing it on a side table.  Leading him into the living room where a playpen held his son, James Barnes Jr., she dropped his hand.  The toddler raised his arms to Lucy, and she scooped him up.

"JJ, this is your daddy," she said.  "Daddy's home from the war.  Can you say hi and give him a kiss?"

The little boy's attention was taken by the medals on his father's uniform, reaching for them with his chubby hands.  Holding his right arm out, Bucky held him firmly on his hip, looking at the blue eyes, and Lucy's hair on this beautiful child, his child, conceived on a wintry night when a lonely man and woman, who thought life had passed them by, decided to seize the day and reach for happiness together.  His lips trembled and his eyes watered.  He had never been so happy, as he was right this moment.  What would the future bring?  Whatever they willed it.

One shots masterlist

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Big Sky Eyes*

Chapter Seventeen

Master List |  Bucky Barnes Master List  |  Series Master List

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Pairing: Cowboy!Bucky Barnes x Disabled!OFC Maybe Cole

A/N: Thank you, Jasmine A, for requesting this chapter! Sorry for how long it took to arrive. Life is crazy this time of year. Enjoy!

Warning: Smut, angst, fluff

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[imwall-e]

Patience

Pairing : Mafia!Bucky x OFC

Summary : Bucky Barnes wants her, and he is ready to wait...

Author's note : Not beta read. Some of the many little stories I have in my head. Maybe a future fic ?

There he was, leaning against his car, waiting for her. Just like every time she finished work. And it was the same in the morning. He waited in the same way, ready to accompany her. And every day she would meet his eyes and decide to take the bus.

But Bucky Barnes was a patient man. And patience always pays off in the end. Like today. It had been a long and complicated day. The buses were full and she didn't have the strenght to stand in the cold until the next one came along.

She'd be lying if she said that he was the only reason. This man looked after her. He gave her the attention she needed. He wanted her. Her and no one else. Something that no-one before him had ever offered her.

As she walked towards him, took his hand, let him kiss it, got into the car with him, she knew she was crossing a point of no return. But she did all this without regret.

[shadowsof-thenight]

Bound for Ruin

Summary: When Jenna meets Bucky it takes her a while to realise they both want very different things. But Bucky is a stubborn man, who rarely hears no and he's not about to take it for an answer now.

Ship: Bucky Barnes x OFC 

Warnings: Angst, sugar baby/daddy dynamics, some toxic attitudes.

Words: 4949 (just under the max amount!)

A/N: It's been a while since I entered Suz' (@targaryenvampireslayer) Blind Date challenge. The quote is bold.

She really put me to the test as the trope she gave me was Sugar daddy and that's far from my usual work. But instead of asking for something more familiar, I liked the idea of stepping out of my comfort zone. This isn't at all like I first imagined though, so I hope you'll like it.

And I apologise for any mistakes. This wasn’t beta’ed. 

She stalked into the club, paying no mind to the bouncers or security. They knew who she was and wouldn’t bar her entry. Her strides were powerful and confident, despite the fact that she’d realised there was no plan upon entering. She hadn’t thought that far ahead at all. She’d simply been too angry to think when she’d left her house, clutching the letter that tipped her over the edge. 

She took a breath as the loud music, the amount of people and the heat washed over her. Jenna never really liked clubs like this, preferring smaller bars where conversation was an option. Alas, this was where she’d find the object of her anger. It was his first business, the place where it all started and he came here every Saturday as it was the busiest day. Jenna looked to her left and saw girls dancing on the various platforms, as they did every weekend. 

She couldn’t suppress a smirk as an idea sparked in her mind. She could’ve sat down at the bar and he would’ve noticed her quick enough, but this might just be better. 

A devilish smile played on her lips as she walked over to one of the higher platforms and climbed up. Stepping on it, she told the girl already dancing to take a small break. The girl looked utterly confused and her eyes sought out the security guard that always stood nearby. He probably signalled for her to agree, because she backed off towards the steps.

“Don’t go far, you’ll have your spot back in no time,” Jenna added with a smirk as she took of her coat and threw it aside. She then looked straight at the camera and flipped it off, before unbuttoning her blouse to show some cleavage. Just enough to get a reaction from the one man she was doing this for.

As expected it only took Bucky mere moments to respond. He was out of his office and making his way towards her, scowling as he did so. Jenna schooled her expression as best she could, feigning innocence as she smiled and waved. She kept dancing, finishing the song that was playing, before signalling the girl to return. 

As she stepped back down, the security guard that had been quietly observing handed her her coat. She thanked him with a wink—knowing it would annoy Bucky further.  That was Bucky’s cue to grab her arm and pull her none-too-gently back to his office that was situated behind the bar. Inside the confines of his office he released her arm with a huff and began pacing the space between her and his desk. Seeing his frustration gave her an odd sense of satisfaction. She saw it as payback for all the trouble he’d caused her these last few months. 

She took a moment to quietly observe him. His handsome face was twisted into a grimace, his blue eyes hard and his beautiful soft lips pressed to a tin line. He really was an impressive specimen, she thought to herself, if only he was less stubborn. 

When Jenna had lost her job four months ago, she hadn’t imagined her life would become entangled with the man before her. Bucky Barnes had been nothing but an enigma to her. One of the most successful men in the city, incredibly private and therefore mysterious. Even though she’d met him several times through her friend Abigail, she never quite got a read on him. She still didn’t feel like she really knew him, but at least she knew which buttons to push for a reaction. 

For years Abigail had had an arrangement with one of Bucky’s best friends, Sam. He treated her like a queen—luxurious gifts, trips, a stellar apartment in their expensive city and a generous allowance. All she had to do was be available to him at all times. Abigail had tried to make the arrangement sound enticing to Jenna. Tried to convince her that this was a great deal, but Jenna care for it. She was ready for something more serious. For love, equality—freedom. The arrangement that Abigail loved so much, felt too limited to Jenna. And constricting. 

When she’d first gone on dates with Bucky, she wasn’t aware that he had expected the same arrangement. He’d buy her drinks, take her to dinner and charmed her better than anyone had ever done before. Jenna was certainly beguiled. Then he had offered to pay her rent and she’d gotten the gist of his intentions. It felt wrong. She had diploma’s, a good resume and interviews lined up—she didn’t need his money. She didn’t want to be a kept woman. Bucky had obviously been disappointed. He’d even offered her a job with one of his companies, but that didn’t seem all too different to Jenna. 

Then one by one her interviews were cancelled. People didn’t want to cross Bucky. They didn’t want to risk doing wrong by her and invoking his wrath. While she couldn’t really blame them—he’d proven himself a ruthless businessman—it still hurt that her abilities no longer mattered now that he was involved. She’d achieved everything before then on merit. She studied hard, worked hard and pushed through when things got tough. Yet none of that carried any weight now. 

Bucky hadn’t been ready to budge–unable to accept that any of her current state was due to his interest. He was enthralled. She was beautiful, smart and headstrong. Her ability to say no to him made her more interesting. He had been convinced that she’d come around to the arrangement he wanted. He was used to getting his way. 

When he discovered her financial strain, he’d imagined himself swooping in like a knight in shining armour, while she simply wanted to be her own saviour. She liked him, but she wanted to be an equal partner, not subservient. The massive mismatch had caused strive. 

He refused to help her get a job and she had fought his desires. But now, without a job and an eviction notice to boot, she was getting desperate. Going into his place of business and antagonising him had been her last attempt to get the upper hand. Just so she wouldn’t feel weak for bending to him. 

“What was that?” He growled. He stood straight, breathing deep in an attempt to curb his anger, but she could see him clenching and unclenching his fists. He was simmering, anger still close to the surface. Funnily enough, she thought he looked rather sexy. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” She asked, her tone haughty, the fingers of her right hand playing with her still opened buttons. 

“Are you here to accept my proposal? Or a job?” He asked, stepping close to her. 

“You really haven’t given me much choice,” Jenna exclaimed, pulling the eviction notice from her pocket and pushing it in his hands. Looking it over quickly, he had the good sense to cast his eyes down. 

“This was never my intention,” he said gruffly, taking a step back from her. 

“Then what was? You wanted me at your mercy, did you not?” She asked. “To control everything.” 

“I wanted you to want to be here.” He looked rather defeated as he still stared at the letter in his hands. 

“That doesn’t happen by forcing my hand,” she said, her words icy. She stepped closer to him as she spoke. “You arrogant asshole, why couldn’t you have left me alone?” 

Her words made him snap his eyes back to her. She stood close, perhaps too close she realised as she looked from his eyes to his lips and back. Why was he so hot? 

He closed the gap between them quickly, pressing his lips to hers before anything else could be said. They were soft as they moved against her own. His movements held no urgency as he pulled her close. She pulled back at first, but he moved with her—trapping her against the wall and she sighed into the kiss before returning it. She did like him, regardless of their issues. Not to mention that she was here to accept his conditions finally, to be his sugar baby. At the very least she could enjoy herself. 

Her hands found his shoulders, fingers gently tickling down his arms and he groaned into the kiss. The response intrigued her. If a simple touch could make him increase his eagerness, what else could she do to him? Her hands explored further, heat exploding inside of her as his actions mirrored hers. 

The following hours were spend mapping out what the other liked, wanted and was good at. Jenna wouldn’t call it mind blowing exactly—that was reserved for their first night together months ago—but it was good. Really good.  

“I don’t think control is that bad,” he said as he put his shirt back on, his back turned to her, and she smiled bitterly. How a few simple words could ruin her mood so quickly. She shook her head as she remembered that this was a business deal, even if she couldn’t help but feel like she caught the short end of the stick.

***

Five weeks later 

Jenna pulled away reluctantly. She was tired. She hadn’t had many full nights sleep in weeks. Bucky liked seeing her after work, but insisted on sleeping alone. Leaving her to pack her things and go home every night, while he turned around and slept. During the day, he was a gentleman. He took her on dates, listened to her, asked for her opinions, used her insights to make decisions, made her feel important to him. But at night, he kept her at arms length. Never quite opening up to her. That was until now. 

“Stay,” He whispered. 

She was already dressed, so she knew he’d been debating this. Standing by the door, she looked back in surprise. His arm was tossed over his face, so she couldn’t see his expression. Still his words had shown a kind of vulnerability he hadn’t offered her before. 

She assumed it was to protect himself. Still, this was him trying, wasn’t it? Jenna moved back towards the bed and sat down on the edge, pulling his arm away from his face. 

“You don’t want to sleep alone tonight?” She asked, looking him straight in the eyes. When he tried to look away, she gently took hold of his cheek and held his gaze. “Talk to me,” she added softly. 

“I don’t,” he said. The look in his eyes had never been quite as open as it was now. In all the months they’d known each other, there’d been a mask. One that didn’t falter, even during their arrangement. Not until this moment and her heart warmed at the thought of really moving past his walls. She knew she shouldn’t get her hopes up, shouldn’t read too much into it, but she wanted it so badly. 

Jenna took a deep breath, kicked off her slippers and climbed on top of him, holding him tight. He sighed, pulling the covers over the two of them and melting into the hug. His eyes closed and he fell asleep holding her tight. As his breath slowed, she allowed herself to ponder this change in attitude. He didn’t open up as a rule. She’d realised a while back that it was why he preferred their arrangement over a real relationship.She wondered what changed tonight—apparently he needed more than he’d been asking for and she wanted to give it to him. 

She knew this was a messy situation that would bite her in the ass soon enough, but she couldn’t help herself. She was falling for him, despite his attempts to keep a firm distance. With him now opening up to her even a little, that distance grew smaller.

***

Three months later

“You’re gorgeous,” his lips were close to her ear as he spoke. His warm breath sending shivers down her spine, as his fingers lightly danced over her lower back which was exposed in her dress. 

One thing she’d found in the last few months was that he liked touch. He liked being close, physical, even when it wasn’t sexual. Jenna definitely didn’t mind. Even if it complicated her feelings, she didn’t fight his proximity. Since that night where he’d asked her to stay, she hadn’t spend a single night alone. The distance between them seemed to have evaporated and her heart was ignoring the reality of their situation. 

They walked around the banquet greeting other guests. He was soft, gentle and comfortable and she liked being here with him. He knew how to make her laugh, how to make her swoon and how to make her cry out his name in ecstasy. She wasn’t just getting comfortable, she was falling in love. And it was dangerous. 

With his hand still on her back, he went back to the conversations around them. Business people discussing new plans or boasting about their latest successes. She smiled as she observed him, he was in his element and it looked good on him. Bucky was strong and confident as he explained his own latest venture. He was charming, making sure everyone around him felt seen. And when he smiled, it lit up the room. So she stared, she couldn’t help it. 

“You’re staring,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes. He pulled her even closer. 

“I was admiring the view,” she winked. Bucky smiled and leaned in for a kiss. 

“Thirty more minutes,” He promised with another kiss. 

“I’m okay. It’s a good view.” 

“Idem, but I know a better view,” he said and she didn’t need to guess what he meant as the fingers on her back teasingly dipped beneath the fabric of her dress. 

True to his word, Bucky pulled her from the conversations thirty minutes later. He told the people they’d been speaking too that they had an early start the following morning and it was time to go. She didn’t protest, even though there was nothing that would urge them out of bed the next day. 

His hands were on her sides as soon as they left the large hall. His lips tracing a feather light trail from her ear to her cheek as they waited for their coats. His lips found their way to hers as he first kissed the edges, first left, than right, before he smushed her lips and pushed his tongue inside her mouth. There was an urgency to his kiss, like he needed it. 

When he stopped, he looked deep into her eyes—a hauntingly enthralling look in those dazzling blue orbs of his—and he smiled happily. With a sigh he touched his forehead to hers, keeping eye contact and creating a stillness between them. It felt like he could see into the deepest part of her soul and she felt heat creeping up her neck and cheeks. 

“I want you,” he finally whispered, placing another kiss on her lips, this one more sensual. 

Their coats were brought out then, interrupting them, and they made their way outside where his driver was already waiting for them. Her hand warmly clasped in his as they walked and his lips close to her ear, whispering sweet little nothings. 

Bucky gallantly opened the door for her, before quickly walking around the car to join her on the backseat. Once seated the driver drove off and Bucky turned his attention back on Jenna. It started slowly, one hand trailing up her leg, finding the hem of her dress and then moving past it. His lips found her neck, finding the little pressure points he knew would make her sigh when he kissed them. Her hands made their way to his chest, playing with the lapels of his three-piece suit. Then she placed on hand on the back his neck and playing with the tips of his slicked back hair. 

“I love you,” she spoke the words before she could think. She meant them in that moment, more than she ever had with anyone in the past. But that wasn’t want this was and she quickly pulled back with a gasp. He still held her close, staring at her face while the seductive heat on her skin changed into cold sweat—had she ruined it? 

He cupped her cheek, not saying a word, the look in his eyes unreadable. Then he plunged his lips on hers and kissed her deeply, the urgency to his actions a stark contrast to the languidity of before. When he pulled back, his pupiles were enlarged. Jenna imagined hers were as well. Neither of them seemed to realised that they were still in the car. Not until a small knock alerted them of the driver’s presence. 

They offered apologetic smiles as they got out and quickly moved across the sidewalk and into the apartment building where Bucky lived. Thankfully the lobby was empty at this time of the night and they were able to walk through it and into the elevator without anyone speaking to them. Once in the confined space he pushed her up against the wall, pressing himself against her. She could feel his hard length pressed against her thigh and it ignited a heat in her core that could only be quenched by him. She pulled his face towards hers and hungrily kissed his lips, while his hands freely roamed her body over her dress. 

***

By the time Jenna woke up, Bucky was gone. He was supposed to have a day off, but he was nowhere to be found in the apartment. It wasn’t until she walked into the kitchen for a glass of water, that she saw his note. He’d gone into the office regardless. 

She sighed, they hadn’t spoke about her confession yet and she was eager to know what he thought. How he felt. Eager and scared. So instead of waiting, she looked at the clock and decided to visit him for lunch. No sense in postponing the inevitable.  

“Hey, love,” she said walking into his office after the secretary had let her in. Bucky was on the phone and held up a finger to silence her. She held up the bag of food to tell him what she was doing there and he pointed at the small seating area by the window. He soon ended the phone call and walked over to her. 

“We have to make this quick,” He was brusk. She hadn’t seen him like this before. “I have a meeting soon.” He added as he pulled her into him. “Lets eat then,” she offered, pulling back slightly. 

Bucky ignored her words and kissed her neck while his hands roamed over her body. His movements were rough, rushed and Jenna pushed his hands away. He halted his movements momentarily, looking at her and showing her that the wall they’d been breaking down was back up completely. Instantly she knew her words the night before had scared him off.

“Buck, what’s going on?” She asked, not ready to face her reality. 

“Are you saying no?” He questioned and suddenly she wondered what his intention was. Did he want her to walk away?

“I want to know why you’re acting like this,” she pressed. “This isn’t like you."

“I’m horny, you’re here. That’s how this works,” he stepped back from her, his fingers angrily combing through his hair. He’d been letting it grow out these last few months. She focussed on his movements to ignore the effect his words had had on her. ‘That’s how this works’. She’d thought or hoped that last night had changed things, but it hadn’t. This was still a business arrangement to him. Which wasn’t sufficient for her, not anymore. Her eyes pricked with unshed tears as she really let it sink in. 

He stood in front of the large windows that overlooked the city below, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers. His silhouet in the weak winter sun was beautiful and she wished she could walk up behind him, like she had done many times before in this very room. She wished she could wrap her arms around him, just to feel him close. She wished to see the gentle side of him that he had shown her. Still, she knew better than to set herself up for failure. Fighting the tears that were burning her eyes and throat, she walked around the seating area and grabbed her wintercoat, her trendy tote and walked towards the door. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly as she looked back at him—part of her hoped that he would stop her, but he didn’t even turn around. Finally she let the tears fall. opened the door and walked out. 

She knew what she had to do, even if it hurt. Jenna knew she could not ignore the situation they were in and she needed to act. She was not some damsel in distress—even if she let him put her in that position for months now. It was time to change that and get back to who she truly was. 

Getting back to the apartment felt heavy. It would be the last time she viewed this space. Walking in she moved quickly, grabbing a trash bag from the cupboard underneath the sink. Moving through the place, she grabbed everything that was hers from before and put it in the bag. Part of her was angry that she’d tossed her old tattered travelbag, even though she knew it had been on his last legs years ago. She could’ve used it now. Instead the trash bag would have to do. She didn’t take anything that he’d given her.

She wasn’t left with much, but she hadn’t entered their arrangement with much either so it seemed only fair. Looking at her cheap wallet, all hers, she took out the money and cards that were his. She only kept a little money to help her move—promising to pay it back as soon as she was able. 

She wrote as much in the note she left him, along with much more mushy comments. She apologised for the destroying their house of cards, for ignoring their initial agreement and trying to make it more than it was. And when she was done, she placed her copies of the keys on the table and left. 

She repeated much of the process at her own place. Thankful that one of her old suitcases had not been thrown out yet. It was old and ugly, but it was all hers. She opened her laptop and devised an email to be let out of her lease and anything else that could keep her in this city. Then she booked a bus ticket for that evening and wrote another letter. A longer one this time, telling him to let her go. She couldn’t remain where her love wasn’t wanted. 

***

Five months later 

It had taken her a some time to find her bearings. A broken heart was tougher than she had imagined it to be. She hadn’t felt the energy to do much of anything. None of the activities that used to bring her joy, felt more like a chore now—shopping, going out with friends, it was all too much. 

Jenna did manage to get herself a proper office job, not unlike the one she had last year. It paid the bills and even restored her savings little by little. After two months she could move out of the motel she’d been staying at and into a small but modern studio apartment. She was lucky that the cost of living was lower in this city. 

Then last week, some of her co-workers even invited her out for after work drinks. She found out that her co-workers were actually pretty fun. So much so, that she was meeting them tonight as well. 

It was Friday evening and in about thirty minutes she would be able to close her computer, freshen up at home and meet them at the diner across from it. Afterwards, her and Stacy were having a drink at a local bar. Stacy had been the one to show her the ropes at work. She was bubbly, eager and fun-loving. She reminded her of Abigail. 

Jenna missed her friends and made a mental note to call them this weekend. When she first left, she’d postponed calling them for a full week. Despite knowing they’d worry. She was crying too much to talk. But, Abigail hadn’t been mad at her sudden disappearance. She also promised not to tell Sam or Bucky where she was. And just to be sure, Jenna hadn’t given her a precise address either. Now, they tried to talk weekly, but they’d missed each other last week. 

In the first few calls, Abigail had kept her informed of Bucky’s movements, but eventually Abigail had realised just how painful it was for Jenna. So she stopped mentioning him. She barely even spoke of Sam and Jenna was grateful for it. 

“Are you ready to go?” Stacy asked, interrupting Jenna’s pondering. 

“Just about,” she said. 

“I have to run to the store quickly, meet you at the diner?” Stacy offered and Jenna nodded in agreement. Turning back to her screen, Jenna quickly saved her work and closed the program. Time for the weekend to begin. 

***

It had taken him quite a few months to finally find her again. When Jenna had gone, she really wiped every trace of herself from him life. She hadn’t taken her phone or the creditcards. She didn’t rent anything in the city, hadn’t applied to any companies as far as he could tell. Finally he had to accept that she left town. That’s when the real work started and he hired a private investigator—telling himself that it was just to ascertain that she was alive and well. Bucky tried to convince himself that all he needed to know, was that she was fine. He told himself that if he found her, he would let it go. 

Instead, this Friday evening, he found himself standing on the street where she lived, watching her greet people in a diner. He realised that she had rebuilt her life, to create it much like the life she’d had before him. A life where he wasn’t footing the bill or having any say. Just as she had wanted from the start. 

He couldn’t even be bitter about the turn of events. He knew he had ruined it himself. She said she loved him and pulled up a wall. It’s what he had always done before. Though he hadn’t quite regretted it as much without anyone else. One month after she had left, Jenny had sent him a check for the money she had taken with her on her hasty departure. The money had been the last thing he wanted. He wanted her back. To tell her that he loved her too, that he’d just been too scared. 

He realised that even in his fear, he managed to make it all about him. Like a spoiled child, used to getting his way. He’d gotten so comfortable in his life. People rarely said no to him. Only Sam and Steve wouldn’t join the yes-sayers. In the last five months he had realised that this wasn’t enough. He needed to have more people opposing him, willing to be honest with him.

As he watched her sitting down in the booth with her friends, he noticed the bright smile on her face. One of the woman had stood to hug her before scooting in to make space in their booth. He couldn’t interrupt now. He wasn’t sure he could interrupt her life at all. 

She deserved to be happy. His heart broke as he stared a little longer, before finally hailing a taxi and leaving. It was time to let her go. 

Except, unbeknownst to him, Jenna had seen him get into the taxi. He didn’t see the mad dash she made from the diner or the single tear that slid down her cheek as she watched him drive away from her. 

It made the surprise that much bigger, when he got a knock on his door one week later. 

“Why didn’t come talk to me?” Jenna asked as soon as he opened the door. He looked a tad confused, so she added; “ I saw you last week.” 

Bucky didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t expected her to see him, he’d been so careful. And he certainly hadn’t expected her to show up at his door. Jenna didn’t exactly know what she wanted him to say either. She’d gone back and forth all week in her mind, would she go see him? Would she keep her distance? What did she want? Had he changed his mind about what he wanted? 

Eventually Stacy had told her that she would never know, unless she asked him. And living with the doubt could easily become too much. So at the risk of ripping open old wounds, Jenna had books another busticket. This time in the opposite direction. 

“Well, are you going to say anything?” She asked.  

Unable to form any coherent sentence, Bucky did the only thing he could think off. The one thing he truly wanted—he stepped into the hall, his hand cradling her cheek as he leaned in for a kiss. Jenna smiled into the kiss and kissed him back happily. 

“I love you too,” Bucky said as he pulled back for a moment. 

“Well, it’s about time,” Jenna smiled and pulled him in for another kiss. 

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

keep quiet

bucky barnes x f!reader prompt: whisper theme: smut (tags beneath the cut)

“We really shouldn’t be doing this, doll,” Bucky whispered in your ear as your lips teased over the side of his neck, his warm breath tickling your ear. “Not here.”

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him again. He met your lips without further protest, his hands on your waist as you slid your own down over his chest. “No one’s going to miss us for a while…”

“And it echoes in here,” Bucky pointed out, casting his eyes towards the high ceiling of the hangar. You were tucked away in a corner of it, hidden by crates and obscured by the planes parked uniformly across its floor.

“I promise I’ll be quiet,” you assured him with a smirk. Your fingers continued down his front to graze your nails over his stomach. They lingered just above his belt buckle, lifting his shirt enough to tease at a sliver of bare skin. It twitched under your touch. “Do you want me to stop?”

Bucky snickered quietly, rolling his eyes as you slipped your hands further up under his shirt. He took hold of your wrists, forcing them gently to your sides. You pouted up at him, and his cool expression remained unchanged as he slowly moved them above your head.

His mouth met yours hungrily, his metal hand pinning your hands as his other slipped down your body. He squeezed your breast possessively, his tongue sliding into your mouth. His hand moved lower, and your breath caught against his mouth as he slipped it over your cunt. Even through your jeans his touch was hot, and you pushed yourself against his hand eagerly.

You rode his fingers, pressed against the wall by his larger frame. Bucky’s lips never left yours, swallowing each muffled sound you made in response to his touch. When your hands tightened on his shoulders and your teeth caught his lip, he pulled away.

You barely had time to protest before he was turning you around and pressing you against the wall. He fell to his knees behind you, his lips pressing a kiss to the small of your back as his hands smoothed up over your thighs and ass. He jerked your pants and underwear down, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan as he buried his face in your cunt.

You reached back to bury your fingers in his hair as he slid his tongue against your clit. He clutched at your thigh, fingers digging into the flesh. Your mouth fell open soundlessly as you forced yourself not to moan, eyes rolling backbehind fluttering lids.

Bucky slid one finger, then another, into you, mouth leaving your clit to give biting, open-mouthed kisses to your thighs, your ass. Your grip tightened on his hair as his fingers quickened, fucking you roughly, curving inside you slightly.

A strangled, breathy moan finally left you, and Bucky stood. His body pressed into your back, his fingers never ceasing as he wrapped his other hand around your mouth. You felt the crushing weight of him holding you against the wall, felt his teeth graze your neck, and you came, the sound muffled by his palm.

tags:  @dragon-chica​ @glossyloner @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @lovely-dreamer19 @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink  @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @absolutly-me @sara–ravenclaw @startrekkingaroundasgard

[mostlymarvelgirl]

Older [Part 1 of 3]

(James "Bucky" Barnes X OC Irina)

Words: 1.5k

WARNING: 18+, Initial Pedophilic Attraction, Mentions Of Anorexia, Age Gap [Legal], Irina (OC) is 20.

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION.

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.☆.

.☆.

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5 days.

5 days since Bucky had left Sam's family and bid them goodbye. He was going to miss them. The closure. The warmth. The togetherness.

But now, it was back to square one. No more Sam or S.H.I.E.L.D. or anyone. No more of that damn therapist either. It felt quiet. Again. The routine creeping back to him. Wake up and eat. Walk around and remember what he did. Repent his previous sins by comforting the families that got left behind. And by the time that happened, it was evening and he had his daily drink. But now, the list was over. Nothing to do anymore.

The bar wasn't any upper-class place, but it was alright. Good enough. Not too much attraction or crowd to deal with it. Everybody minding their own business and hanging with their own groups. He guessed the blip was pretty helpful in that way. Everybody got trust issues after it. Nobody wanted to know new people and move along. After all, everyone is a danger. He thought to himself. And also interacting wasn't his strongest suit. He preferred to look. Or as Sam called it "the bionic staring machine" look. He would roll his eyes every time Sam said it.

The beer he had gotten a hour ago had finally become warm. He chuckled to himself quietly wondering how lost he is. The weather was perfect, atleast at the moment. It was warm and chill at the same time. Quite pleasant. Nothing could go wrong.

He would notice a few minors trying to fake their age and fumle to get a drink not knowing it's name. It was nothing new. Nothing surprising. Or special. He saw a few older teens enter. Looking all dressed to blend in like adults. Of course he knew that. He could tell. After all, being an ex-assassin, an ex-spy and an ex-soldier helped with these things. Boring things.

A girl was there. On his right. He knew she was a college student. She could've been some 19 or 20. But, hey.... there was nothing wrong to look, just a little for observation purposes. She was not extraordinarily beautiful or drop dead gorgeous, but she was... something. Her green eyes gave off a youthful air despite the exhaustion that was evident in her face, her straight dark brown hair, and those natural pale pink lips. She had mildly dark underbags on her eyes. She looked as if she was done with everything and just wanted to melt into a deep darkness. He could give her that. That deep darkness. Soo deep and far down that she could never climb out. That's what he wanted to do to her. He quickly snapped out of his thoughts before he let himself take it over him. Then, she spoke.

"Umm.. do you have anything light but not expensive?", she asked while trying to sound experienced, and like as if she had done it before and was an adult.

Bucky chuckled. The girl turned to him. He could see she was not happy with his reaction. Typical. And he loved that. Why? He didn't know. But he did. There was that part in him that never left. The monster was never gone. It was still in there. It couldn't be caged forever. And she was just a small trigger for it come out. Even if it was just for a few seconds.

"Excuse me? Did you hear something funny?", she demanded him. Bucky turns his head to his right.

"Next time, you might want to come prepared to sound like it.", Bucky replied casually and aimed at the bartender, Gary.

"How many are you there?", Bucky asked her.

She wanted to snap back at him and slap him, but she felt that something about was dangerous and dark. Not in the good way at all. He just gave off this vibration of a nice person, but something felt cold and unknown. She didn't know him well enough, but she knew to trust her guts to keep her mouth shut than to provoke something she didn't know.

"Umm... 6 including me", she hesitantly replied. Bucky liked it. He could already feel her submitting to her instincts. He looked at her more clearly but not in the creepy way. He noticed her body. She was wearing a black dress. Pretty tight and till right above her knees. She was thin. Not naturally.. but sickly thin. He could feel it. The lack of proper and basic nutrition and that stupid trend to look "perfect." He thought to himself how weird the world had become and come to, some things had never changed. Crimes, trends, insecurities, and fears. Always there, regardless. He avoided rolling his eyes. He didn't want make any sort of impression that he knew about her.

"Gary, 6 apple martini's."

Gary nodded, and before he could look at the girl, Bucky replied, "It's on me."

He turned towards her and introduced himself.

She smiled back at him. Or at least she thought she did. It looked more like her lips pressed thinly. She face palmed herself mentally at her response.

"I'm James, by the way." He let out a small, simple, and polite smile.

"I'm Irina. Umm, and you don't have to like pay for us. I don't mean to offend you, but you really shouldn't pay for us. And like we- um kinda got our money and don't want to give this trouble and I'm really um sorry that-that- i-i", she started to ramble out of nervousness. He cuts her off.

"It's alright. I got it. You don't have return anything at all alright?", Bucky replied confirming her doubts.

She nodded and gave a small forced smile. She didn't like what he was doing at all. She didn't want to argue, more like did not know how to argue with him. He didn't seem quite like someone you would to argue with. He had these aura of something she couldn't point out and it scared the hell out of her. She thought herself to be good at reading people, but clearly not. She couldn't tell his intentions at all. He didn't seem scary, but something just didn't sit well with her. She didn't know what to say next or how to continue the conversation till the drinks arrived and her friends were clearly chatting somewhere in the back not bothering to side her here at the bar. She hated the silence between them. She wanted say something but didn't know what.

Bucky could feel her gears turning in her head. Hell, he didn't know what to ask her either. He felt internally embarrassed for volunteering to buy her drinks. He cursed at Gary, the bartender who, for some reason, now was taking too much all of a sudden.

"So... do you live around here?", Bucky immediately face palmed mentally. He sounded like an absolute creep.

Irina felt awkward at his question. She could he wasn't being creepy but the female instincts of it being creepy question just flared up.

"Um... yeah. I mean, kind of? I'm in student dormitory of (University Name) Law University.", she replied decently hoping he wasn't gonna ask more.

"That's good. It's a great University. So that means you're studying something Law related?", he asks in an attempt to find her interest.

"Yeah. Yup. Good guess.", jokes.

Bucky laughs awkwardly knowing he was dumb for asking a student whether they were studying Law at a Law University.

Irina carefully points out something hoping she wasn't rude. She sort of guessed he was The Bucky Barnes.

"So.. I don't mean sound creepy, but are you.. like The Bucky Barnes?"

Bucky froze for a second. But quickly recovered.

"Yes, that's quite right. It's that obvious, huh?", Bucky asks, embarrassed.

Irina laughs genuinely. Bucky likes it. It was finally a real one.

"We were studying about your case. You're pretty complicated for laws to be applied. Sometimes, even contradictory.", she explained.

Bucky nodded. He really didn't know his case was that complicated that it was now in textbooks as well. He was starting rethink why he approached her soo weirdly in the first place. She was clearly very well versed about his situation.

Before Bucky could reply, Gary showed up.

"I'm sorry, but your friends packed up the drinks and left somehow. Would you like anything for yourself?", Gary felt bad. Some college groups abandoned a few of friends like this. He was old enough to be retired but it still didn't sit right with him.

Irina looked... not surprised.

"It's okay. I'll just leave. Thank you so much for telling me.", before Irina could thank Bucky as well, Bucky was already out of the door.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

To be continued.....

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A/N: I know it's weird ending for part 1. I'll try better. Comments would really be appreciated. Thank you for reading. Part 2 will come out in a week or so.

[baezen]

01 ⦻ heatblast

pairing: bucky barnes x reader word count: 1790 warnings: 4th wall breaks that would make wade wilson weep, author brain 5 years ago,

summary: in which the lines of reality and fiction have crossed over during the blip

heatblast | omnitrix | wildmutt

“Only use it if there’s no one else around to help.”

Her grandfather’s voice echoed the phrase inside her head, and for years she’d listened to his advice. There had been no one around to help, but even then, she didn’t want to use it. The more she did, the more likely it was that she’d be found by Vilgax, who could sense it’s presence whenever she’d transformed.

She’d been 10 when she discovered the Omnitrix inside a capsule that had crash-landed on Earth. It had stuck itself upon her wrist, and try as she might, she hadn’t been able to take it off.

Her grandfather knew of its power and had wanted to protect her from the alien he knew originally possessed it. He couldn’t explain why it was now on Earth, but after years of making sure it never came back, he was scared Lennox would be caught up in the crossfire. Even with the powers and knowledge that the Omnitrix could give her, Grandpa Max warned her to never use it to fool around. If Vilgax found the Omnitrix on her wrist, he’d kill her to get it back.

The truth had scared Lennox, and so she’d never used it. Never utilised its power unless completely necessary. Until one day she’d tried to use it, something had happened and she’d caused a massive fire in California.

Only she hadn’t been in California. She’d been in Pennsylvania, she’d been about to help someone, and she hadn’t been on fire. Her grandfather had been with her, as well as her cousins, and they were nowhere to be seen.

 The fire in California had made headlines all over the world, especially since she’d been caught on camera. A video of a flying, fiery being was caught leaving the centre of the forest where the fire started had emerged online. Lennox knew after that instance that she could never use the Omnitrix again, no matter how dire the situation was. She couldn’t control who she became, and now she was in an unfamiliar place with no friends or family, and she had to adapt.

She had to make this new place her home. She didn’t stay in one place for too long, or put down roots, because she was still looking for her family. Every time she called their numbers, different people picked up. She’d tried missing posters, or contacting private investigators to try and find them, but there was nothing. There was no one.

And then people started disappearing before her eyes. What was once a person, now reduced to a pile of ash, and the world went dark. She followed leads about what had happened, that a Titan by the name of Thanos had used these stones with magical abilities to get rid of half of all life on Earth. Including the lives of those who tried to stop him, but had ultimately failed.

Lennox was even more lost than she had been, and in the years after Thanos, she attempted to harness the abilities of the Omnitrix. Still too scared to actually use it to her advantage, so she attempted to use the internet to expand her knowledge.

Only when the results came up, the only knowledge of the device on her wrist was from a children’s television show. She searched through the information she found, trying to make sense of how her history had been capitalised and sensationalised. They knew about her cousins, Ben and Gwen, who’d only been babies at the time she’d received the Omnitrix. Her grandfather Max was some clueless idiot, who only revealed tidbits of information as it was necessary.

And Lennox had been completely erased from the narrative.

Somehow she’d entered an alternate reality, and she wondered if that was the reason why her family only existed in a fictional sense on this Earth. Because on her Earth, you couldn’t get from Pennsylvania to California before you could so much as blink. After years of trying to find the truth in both California and Pennsylvania, the only proof she had that her family and the Omnitrix ever existed was from a fucking TV show.

Rightfully so, she was a little pissed.

“Lennox Tennyson?”

Out on a morning walk, the last thing she expected was for a man to appear in a circle of sparkling orange light. Confused, she stepped back. On guard, hands balled into fists by her side.

“How do you know my name?”

“I’m Wong. The Avengers need your help.”

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m sorry. I can’t help you,” she apologised.

“Lennox Tennyson, the Omnitrix chose you. You have been given the ability to help mankind, but instead you let your fear rule your life. Right now, the world needs your help.”

He’s a magician. “I’m a sorcerer of the mystic arts,” he tried to explain. Lennox knew the stories. He was a comic book superhero sidekick in her world, and couldn’t understand why he was real in this one. 

Then he did some super saiyan shit and showed her what the fabric of time used to look like before Thanos. She wondered when Vegeta was going to come out and beat his ass.

“I need you to please take this seriously,” he pleaded. “That watch on your wrist could be the key to helping us defeat Thanos.”

“Benedict, is it okay if I call you Bene?”

“It’s Wong.”

“It sure is,” she agreed sarcastically. “I don’t know how I can help you. Anytime the watch is utilized and I harness the power of the Omnitrix, it threatens my life. If Vilgax finds me–”

“Villa who?”

“Vilgax. I guess he’s my Thanos in my world,” she replied. “You and Thanos are comic book characters. And in your world, my cousin Ben was the star of the show explaining this thing.” She waved her arm in the air. “And I got erased from the narrative.”

“It’s like I said,” Wong replied. “When Thanos used the stones before he had them all, the reality and space stones brought you here. I’ve been aware of your presence on Earth for almost five years, Ms. Tennyson.”

“So why now? Why not approach me five years ago before I destroyed half of California?”

“Would you have believed me anymore then, than you do now?”

Lennox paused. “So you want me to, what? Burn Thanos? Join the young Avengers? I’m assuming that’s happening in your timeline soon, right? Yelena Belova, Kate Bishop, Jen Walters, Kamala Khan. Need I say more?”

“Those events haven’t happened yet,” he told her. “We need to defeat Thanos first.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to manage being any kind of help when I time out and turn back into a human after ten minutes,” she pointed out. “I don’t remember how Ben does it in the show, but I need to jailbreak this thing somehow. I need to be able to harness the full power of the Omnitrix. I can’t do that with the kiddy lock still activated.”

It’s a lake house. Wong did his super saiyan shit and now they’re at a lake house.

“And I thought XLR8 was fast,” she commented. “You gotta teach me how to bend like that. Aang said he trained for years.”

“You know the Avatar?”

“Let me guess, Aang’s from another TV show here?”

“One of my favourite Anime’s,” he revealed.

“Typical,” she muttered. “All my friends aren’t real in this world.”

“You might know Denny Phantom,” Wong replied.

“Are you talking about Danny Phantom?”

“She came here around the same time as you. Got blipped when Thanos defeated the Avengers, though.”

“She? My Danny is a guy.”

“She’s badass,” he told her. “C’mon, Stark’s waiting for us.”

“Tony Stark lives at the fucking lake? Next you’re going to be telling me that Hawkeye doesn’t crawl around in air vents.”

“What?”

“Too niche?”

“Wong!” The boisterous voice of Tony Stark rang out. Lennox turned to look at him and was faced with the stark reality that was Iron Man. Hah, get it? Stark?

“Tony,” Wong greeted him. They shook hands briefly before Tony looked past Wong and stared down at Lennox.

“California fire, right? That was you?”

“Well it wasn’t Johnny Storm,” she quipped, and the confusion that flitted across his face made her sigh. “For fucks sake, you’re the Avengers and you don’t even know the Fantastic Four?”

“Not in this world,” Wong stated. “This is Lennox Tennyson. I was hoping you’d be able to help with that watch on her wrist.”

“It’s a watch,” Tony stated. “Just take it off.”

Lennox sighed and twisted the face plate before settling on Heatblast and smashing it down. Soon enough, she was on fire and a six foot alien was standing before Wong and Iron Man. They both looked skittish, but luckily Tony didn’t change into his suit. Still, Wong’s hands were glowing. 

“It’s not just a watch, Stark,” she told him, her voice deeper and more husky. Like she’s eaten a lump of coal. “I can transform into one of ten aliens, this one is Heatblast. The watch times out after ten minutes, so I’m no help to anyone in a fight until I can crack this thing open and change between aliens without maxing out the time.”

“Alien?”

“Probably should’ve warned you that whenever I use the Omnitrix, it sends my location into space. The alien, Villgax, has been trying to track me down for five years for this watch. When Thanos happened, I was in Pennsylvania, with my grandfather, Max, and my cousins, Ben and Gwen. In your world, Ben gets the watch and they learn about the Omnitrix through fighting Villgax’s army. Except it’s a children’s show. This world isn’t the world I’m from, Stark. I need to get back to them.”

“Can you turn back into a human?”

“Not until the ten minutes are up. I need to jailbreak the Omnitrix. I can’t help defeat Thanos and get back to my world to defeat Villgax if I’m a liability ten minutes into a fight. I’m assuming that’s why Wong brought me here? You’ve got a plan to defeat Thanos?”

 Stark and Wong shared a look.

“She can be a great asset to have if you can help her with the Omnitrix,” Wong told him. “There’s thousands of aliens with any number of abilities and powers in that watch.”

“Thousands?”

Wong looked at Lennox. “There’s so much you don’t know,” he told her. “Didn’t you watch the show?”

She shook her head. “I was so pissed that they erased me and Ben got all the glory,” she stated. “How’d they do it? In the show. How’ they harness the rest of the alien catalog?”

[readingandwritingandreading]

Long Time Coming ~ Part 9

My Blurb: This is a longer one. I could have done two chapters but you guys have been so patient and waited long enough!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. You own nothing, I don’t give anyone permission to post this anywhere. 

Summary: Bucky had waited a long time to find an Omega. When Pepper introduces the team to her new assistant he knows shes the one.

Pairing: Alpha Bucky Barnes X OFC Omega Carina Rivera

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics

Status: In Progress

Tagging: @ashes-writing | @pioched | @littlemissthistle | @pizgloria | @casa-boiardi

Read First: Long Time Coming Masterlist

Also Check Out: Main Masterlist

“Make sure the door is locked, keep your cell phone on you, not in your purse, on your person. If you need something off the compound, have it delivered to security, don’t leave…” 

“Don’t leave the compound. Bucky, I will be fine. There’s nowhere safer than this compound right?” Carina kissed him after cutting him off. “And you’re only going to be gone a few days right?”

Bucky sighed, but nodded his head. They had spent the past two weeks holed up in Bucky’s, well now both of theirs apartment. The others had nauseatingly called it their honeymoon phase. The morning after he had claimed her, Carina woke up alone in bed to a bang and whispered cursing. Pulling on one of Bucky’s shirts and some sweats she had left their bedroom to find Sam rubbing his thigh while Bucky and Steve moved boxes around the living room. Upon closer inspection the boxes had been haphazardly packed with the contents of her apartment. 

When she had mentioned that she could have helped if he had woken her, he had simply shrugged and mumbled something about “Tony needed the other place” before heading off to get the rest of her stuff. That night she had marked him and he had worn it openly and proudly at every opportunity. 

They had heard the news the day before that Brock had somehow escaped and been spotted near a suspected Hydra facility in Venezuela. Bucky hadn’t been on a mission since he had claimed her but Brock’s escaping and joining Hydra had been an “all hands” call that he couldn’t ignore. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her but she should be safe here. He waved his hand at Fury who was yelling at him to get on the Quinjet, before kissing her and jogging over to the entrance. She stood with Pepper on the helipad and he watched her until she was out of sight. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waving to one of the tech's walking the opposite way, Carina stretched her arms and followed the trail. Waking up without Bucky by her side, combined with feeling the physical distance through their bond made her anxious so she had opted to try out the walking trail that wound around the compound. It had recently been extended and she had been itching to try it out. 

Breathing deeply she enjoyed the fresh air as she continued on. Despite it being a nice day, she had only seen the tech on the path. Checking her phone, she smiled at the background picture of her and Bucky before sliding it back into the pocket on her leggings and continuing onward. As she approached an area where she could just make out the tall concrete and barbed wire fence that surrounded the compound, she heard a yowling sound accompanied by a low whine. It was coming from the edge of the treeline just off the trail. Looking around, Carina couldn’t see anyone nearby.

Her phone felt heavy in her pocket, Bucky would want her to let someone else take care of it, not go charging into the forest on her own. Biting her lip she looked up the trail again, still no one. Pulling her phone, she frowned when she saw the no service signal flash. Tony must not be aware of a dead spot on his compound. The poor animal made another pitiful moan and Carina’s omega instincts kicked in. She scented the air carefully, she couldn’t let whatever it was suffer the time it would take to run back and find someone. Not smelling anyone but herself and a mix of animals and nature she slowly headed towards the sound. Eyes focused on locating the injured animal she didn’t see or hear the shadow until it grabbed her, one arm covering her mouth while the other plunged a syringe straight into Bucky’s mark on her neck. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lower level clear. Ow, fuck.” Bucky yelled, one hand leaving his gun to clutch Carina’s bite. 

There was a mutter of sounds on the coms before Steve’s voice rang out. “Buck! You good? On way to your location.” 

A few minutes later Steve rounded the corner to find Bucky leaning against the wall, hand still pressed to his neck, a look of pain and worry etched into his features. “Bucky, what’s wrong?” He yelled, looking for injuries.

“It’s our mating bond, something’s wrong.” Bucky grunted, pushing himself off the wall. “It feels like lava is being injected into the mark. I have to call Carina.” He accepted Steve’s help as they headed towards the jet. 

Once outside, Natasha met them looking uncharacteristically worried. “There’s nothing here, we’ve run all the scans. The perimeter is fortified but that’s it. It’s a dud.”

Tony appeared from the jet, pausing before meeting Bucky’s eyes, “It was a distraction. Carina’s missing. Pepper said she went for a walk on the trail but her phone is going straight to voicemail and the location isn’t pinging anywhere. I launched a search of the compound but no one has found any sign of her yet.”

“We’re leaving now.” Bucky whispered but the coldness in his tone made everyone glance at each other nervously as he stalked towards the jet.

“Bucky, we need to figure out a plan.” Steve tried but Bucky whirled around cutting him off. 

“Brock has my mate Steve, my omega, he set all this up to get me away from her.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “Where I wouldn’t be there to protect her.” His voice cracked at the end and Steve nodded, gesturing everyone to the jett. 

The jett was a flurry of activity as Clint pushed it as fast as it could go and calls were made to the compound and surrounding area to track down any footage in the area. 

“We don’t know for sure it was Brock, do we? Bucky should be able to use their bond and find her anyway, right?” Pepper’s face was worried on one of the screens.

“Who else could it be? We were called away because we thought he was out here, who else would know the best way to get her from the compound?” Bucky snapped, ignoring the warning look Tony shot him.

“Normally yes, Bucky would be able to use their bond” Dr. Strange interrupted, “But what he described sounds like they injected her with something to start dissolving the bond. It will immediately start weakening their conn….” he was cut off by Bucky’s roar of anger as he stalked towards the weapons.

“I made Brock a promise.” His voice was lethal as he loaded a gun. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carina groaned as she slowly came to. There was a bright light shining in her eyes but when she went to shield it, she realized her hands were bound. Turning her head to the side she whimpered as pain erupted from her mark. 

“Ah good, you're awake.” Carina blinked again, squinting to see a figure step into the light, shielding her eyes but making him hard to see. He reached to a table off to the side and grabbed another syringe. “Just in time for another round.”

This woke her up and she tried to move away but found her feet bound as well. Thrashing to try and loosen them only caused him to laugh. Stepping fully into her line of vision she gasped when she saw Brock standing over her. “This isn’t possible, you were in Venezuela. They saw you there.” 

“They saw my very convincing body double there. But he’s long gone. In fact you’re little friends are probably encountering our surprise right about now.” Brock laughed, leaning over her and catching her neck as she tried to thrash away from him. He was too strong though and she stifled a scream as he jabbed the needle into the mark, injecting her quickly with what felt like molten lava.

“What…what is that?” She gasped, gritting her teeth against the pain. 

Brock smiled, tossing the now empty syringe on the table before taking a seat. “Well, with Bucky out of the way thanks to the little surprise we left them at the empty compound, I thought it would be easier for us if I started dissolving your bond to him.” 

“What little surprise?” The way he said “us” made her skin crawl but her mind caught on to his earlier statement.

“A completely unidentifiable bomb, none of their scans will pick it up but it should be enough to take out a super soldier…or two. He tacked on with an evil grin. 

A sob broke from Carina before she could stop it as she desperately searched their bond for Bucky. She had been able to feel him the last couple weeks, almost like his heartbeat was right next to her own but now she felt nothing as a wave of sadness overwhelmed her.

“There there now, just a few more injections and all this pain will be replaced with our bond. None of this would have happened if Bucky hadn’t stolen you away in the first place. But I will fix all of it. We can grow old together happily carrying out Hydra’s wishes.” Carina was horrified at the conviction in his voice, as if her relationship with Bucky was a minor inconvenience that he could sweep away. 

“Where are we?” Carina stifled her emotions and sniffed the air, trying to get an idea of where he had taken her. She had no idea how long she had been out and there were no windows in the room.

“Far away from New York, where those pesky Avengers won’t be able to find you.” Brock smiled before standing and heading out a door. The click of the lock bolting filled her with dread. Bound in a locked room, far away from home, Carina hung her head as tears escaped down her face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had taken three days for them to find any hint of where Carina could be. It was like she had vanished into thin air. Three days of feeling the agonizing burn through their weakening bond. Strange had informed him, from a distance, that every time he felt it meant she was likely receiving another dose. That thought had pushed Bucky harder than anything to figure out where she was. He has scoured the trail, finding the spot her location had last pinged from had uncovered a small speaker along with her crushed phone. Guessing she had been drawn off the trail by sounds from the speaker they searched the nearby area and discovered a tunnel made under the fence.

Much to Tony’s chagrin the area had managed to be cloaked from their radar, creating a dead spot that went undetected. Tracing the equipment had led them to the only break in the case. The company that made it was suspected Hydra so they pulled all the surveillance they had from the company. Combing through it they found a video of a man who, while heavily disguised, they were pretty sure had been Brock. 

Tracking a trail of information on the vehicle had led them to a cabin nestled in a secluded forest in Idaho. Despite his desire to go in guns and fists blazing, Bucky had let Steve and the team do a sweep of the area. With their knowledge of the cloaking device Brock had left behind they were able to get through it and realize the cabin was just for show. It led to an underground bunker, where they assumed Carina was being held.

Knowing they had surprise on their side gave Bucky enough patience to wait as well. When they had left Venezuela, another team was sent in to destroy the base so it couldn’t be used in the future. They had found a bomb that would have taken out the whole team. Hoping it would cause Brock to lessen his security, Pepper had made a public statement that the former Winter Soldier, James Barnes had perished in the blast.

“Heat signatures look like a handful of mercenaries, they aren’t expecting us.” Natasha lowered the binoculars, turning to look at Steve and Bucky. Bucky had wanted to go alone but had finally relented and allowed Steve and Natasha to join him. 

Cocking his gun Bucky nodded, “Take out whoever you want. Brock is mine. If anything happens, get Carina out.” He locked eyes with both of them before proceeding towards the cabin. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A series of thumps above her head drew Carina out of her head. She had become aware at some point that she must be in a basement and that Brock wasn’t the only one in residence. She wasn’t sure how long she had been in this room but it felt like days. Brock came regularly. He refused to untie her after she had lashed out when he let her use the restroom. Since then he fed her by hand, it made her skin crawl but she had to keep up her strength somehow. He had offered to let her shower if he could join her but she had adamantly refused even though she was filthy.

The room was sparse including only a bed, table and chair. Most of her time was spent in the bed since her feet were still bound and the pain from the injections usually made her exhausted. She was glad for the sleep though, the agony of being awake knowing that Bucky was gone was overwhelming. Brock had barged in triumphantly slamming a newspaper down in front of her. A picture of Bucky on the front along with a release from Pepper’s office. She had sobbed, not even fighting Brock when he had injected her again. 

Carina shuddered as she heard footsteps outside the door, jumping when Brock burst in looking pissed and waving a gun. He pulled her to her feet, practically dragging her out the door, a string of curses tumbling out of his mouth when he realized she couldn’t climb the stairs with her feet bound. Pulling a knife from his pocket he cut the ropes and pushed her up the stairs.

She stumbled up them as his gun dug into her back, she couldn’t use her hands and her legs were sore from being bound for days. Reaching the top, he shoved her into a small room and she gasped seeing Steve and Natasha taking out two guys, there were several other bodies on the floor. They must have heard her because they both turned and stepped towards her but stopped when Brock pressed the gun to her temple and pulled her back against his chest. 

“Let her go Brock, we aren’t letting you take her.” Steve’s voice was full of authority.

“She belongs to me, I was going to make this nice for her. But you two have forced my hand.” Carina tried to resist as he pushed her head to the side with the gun and lowered his mouth to her neck. She felt his hot breath and saw the shock on Steve & Natasha’s face but then a loud shot rang out. Brock went down, pulling her with him. Natasha and Steve were there in a flash, Steve was pulling Brock off her while Natasha pulled her away from him, quickly slicing the ropes on her wrists. Her eyes were locked on the door as a figure stepped through and headed straight towards Brock. 

“You don’t have to do this, we can take him in.” Steve said it softly, as if he felt he needed to but didn’t agree with the sentiment. 

Brock growled through clenched teeth and fury flashed in his eyes as Bucky pulled a pistol from his hip holster, “I made him a promise once, touch my omega again.” Bucky aimed and pulled the trigger, everyone but him flinching as the shot echoed and Brock dropped with a thud. 

“Bucky?” Carina sobbed as she tried to get to her feet, her legs giving out immediately. He dropped his gaze from Brock and hurried over to her and pulled her into his arms.

“I’m here,” he kissed her forehead as her face crumpled and she fell into his neck, breathing his scent in deeply. “Let’s go home.” Carina nodded in his arms and wrapped herself around him. 

[azriona]

Not a Fairy Tale Kiss, Chapter 18

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Avenger!OFC (2nd person POV)

This Chapter word count: 1.4k ~ Total Story count: 130k ~ This chapter is rated Mature. Chapters posted Tuesdays, Thursdays, and most Sundays.

Summary: When you and Bucky are both accidentally hit with sex pollen while on a mission, you're determined to keep your relationship status at friendship, even if you’d like it to be more. Even if you think he feels the same. Even if you accidentally end up pregnant. Even if it kills you.

(Spoiler Alert: it might actually kill you. Good luck with that.)

Trigger warnings for later chapters include discussion of abortion, failed pregnancies, deaths of both mom & baby--not the MC! Full warnings on AO3. Happy ending is guaranteed, despite warnings. Please see AO3 for full A/N and tags.

Chapter Summary: In which Helen Cho discovers a brand new kind of headache. (It's you and Bucky, btw.)

“I’m being sensible,” says Bucky. “You go into the field, people are gonna figure out you’re pregnant.” “How?” you say. “I’m not even two months. I bet I can still do a handstand without throwing up.” “Darlin’, have you seen your uniform? It’s tighter than Nat’s.” “That’s a horrible lie and also shut up. I’ll add a cape.” “Uh-huh. When was the last time you tried a hand-stand?” “Three weeks ago, and I did not throw up.” “Because you’d already thrown up when you parachuted in.” “I always throw up when I parachute! You can’t count that!” “I think no parachuting,” says Helen.

Read the rest on AO3

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3399

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains background/minor themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Series Masterpost for all chapters

2. Hazelnut Ganache Tart

Mary does sober up during her shift.

She feels kind of miserable, so she’s thankful that it’s a slow Monday. She’s also vaguely ashamed of how she’d shown up to work. It’s a new low, even for her. And then someone had seen her and called her out on it. It’s mortifying.

The encounter with Bucky preoccupies her thoughts all day, and she winds up burning a batch of croissants as she daydreams. She’s more careful after that, taking extra care with the assembly of her hazelnut ganache tarts.

Focusing on the intricate details of the pastries, on executing them perfectly, helps her to calm down and forget about the embarrassing encounter. For a little while at least. Alcohol would be better, and by the time she’s clocking out she’s already thinking about getting home so she can have the relief of a drink.

Or ten.

If anything, she throws back the first few even faster than usual, eager to wipe the memory of what’d happened that morning out of her mind.

Bucky, she thinks acerbically. What a stupid name.

And the nerve of him! To just assume those things about her. Has that loser never seen somebody hungover at work before? It's quite the presumptuous leap from that to … submissive.

‘Dominant’. Mary rolls her eyes. He could’ve just been making it up. Probably was. She’s certainly never met anybody who’s just come out and announced it the way he had. What a bizarre thing to do. It’s not like it’s something people go around broadcasting. It’s … well it’s a mental disorder, isn’t it?

They’d mentioned it in her Psych101 class back in college, but she’d dropped out before that semester was halfway through. Unable to help herself, she pulls out her phone and googles “Dominant,” then navigates to the Wikipedia page on “Dominant and Submissive Personality Disorder.” She winds up getting sucked into reading about it. But as soon as the article starts talking about the submissive subsection, she closes the browser in discomfort. 

She remembers back to the encounter with that guy—Bucky. He hadn’t seemed like there was anything wrong with him (other than being bossy and intrusive as fuck).  But where the heck did he get off throwing out psych diagnoses at total strangers? Mary's cheeks grow hot the more she thinks about his cocksure attitude and the pitying way he’d looked at her.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Doll.” 

She remembers how he’d spoken to her, how he’d called her out on her behavior and spoken so assuredly, like he could see right into her. Like he knew all her secrets. It’d been unnerving.

Her pulse quickens as she thinks about it. The way his big hand had felt, wrapped so securely around her wrist. And how he’d squeezed her wrist—slowly, gently.

“Oh, honey. I think you are.” 

Fuck, it’d made her knees go weak.

Sighing, she takes the bottle of vodka and her glass to the couch and plops down, using the remote to turn the tv onto YouTube. She starts up a playlist that she can lose herself in—music videos, stuff from all the tv shows she likes, edits, fail compilations, whatever. Maybe it’s pathetic that this is how she spends most nights, but there’s no one that she has to impress. And she can’t bear the feeling of being alone in her brain otherwise. At least this way everything is warm and entertaining. She pours herself a little more, throwing off the ratio of vodka to ginger ale, but the taste doesn't bother her nearly as much once she's on the third or fourth drink.

The bottle’s half empty, and she wonders if she’ll finish it. She’ll be drunk again at work tomorrow morning, if she does. Yikes. She’ll stop after two more. One more. Two more.

The bottle’s three-quarters empty and an Adam Lambert music video is blasting on the tv. He really is the most underappreciated vocalist of his generation! And he’s got such nice makeup, too …

Maybe she won’t even go to work tomorrow, Mary thinks manically. They don’t appreciate her there anyway. Maybe she’ll just stay here and drink the rest of this and enjoy herself until… until…

The bottle’s empty and the party’s in full swing. No worries though, she thinks, she’s got some of that nasty cheap rum in the back of the pantry. Blecgh. She orders DoorDash that she doesn’t really have the money to be wasting on, puts on makeup while lip syncing to the tv, and thinks about calling Chase to tell him what a loser he is and how glad she is that they broke up. Haven’t had to use this concealer to cover up anything but acne in over a year.

Rum isn’t so bad when you mix it with orange juice!

She gets on a depressing video kick. She bemoans the state of politics, then society, the world, her life. She goes through all the old pictures in her phone and gets pissed at the ones with Chase in them. She imagines running into her ex somewhere random, with a super hot new boyfriend on her arm. She imagines the dumbstruck expression he’d have on his face, and how she’d introduce her way-hotter new boyfriend to him. 

Ohmygosh, Chase! How’ve you been?! Oh me? I’m doing great. This is Bucky, he’s a surgeon-slash-green beret-slash-musician. Ha! Yeah well we just got back from two months in the Bahamas, so that’s why we’re so tan. 

It’s the rum, Mary decides. It makes her sad. She stops feeling fun and happy, and starts feeling lonely and morose. She finds the cardboard sleeve that Bucky had written that phone number on. Hell no, she’s not calling it. She’s got the internet. There’s tons of info online about this stuff that she can look up. Besides, it’s just curiosity. She’s not like him. She's not like that.

She googles BDSM disorder and clicks on the first search result, which winds up being porn. That’s a mistake, but then she decides to watch the porn anyway, because it’s sexy—plus, it's sort of educational, right?

The porn starts making her even more sad. She stares at the paper cup sleeve in her hand while some girl gets the tar beat out of her backside. The last video had been an over-the-lap spanking video—Mary had liked that one. But this doesn’t look nice at all. Especially when the guy switches to hitting her with a friggin’ stick. 

Is this the sort of stuff Bucky likes to do? Jeez.

She has the receipt that Bucky wrote his own number on, too. On impulse, she pulls out her phone and starts to enter a new contact. 

“Asshole Dom Bucky,” she mumbles as she types the words and saves the new contact number with a giggle. It takes more than one try, her fingers not hitting the right keys very often, but she gets it done. 

She comes very, very close to calling Bucky, but winds up calling the hotline phone number instead at the last minute. She’ll whine and cry to them instead, she thinks. At least they’re strangers. She can tell them anything. It’s confidential, anonymous. They can’t tell anyone what she says.

A woman picks up the phone and greets her in a calm, friendly voice.

“Hello, my name is Sharon. I’m a volunteer counselor at the National Submissive Crisis Intervention Hotline.”

“Whatever,” Mary slurs. She is so drunk. She gulps more of her rum and OJ, thinks about going and getting the little razor blade that she only thinks about picking up when she’s wasted. Sometimes it feels nice to do something outrageous when she’s this sad. Nobody can stop her from it, and that feels nice, too. “M’not having a crisis,” she mumbles.

“Okay,” Sharon says, voice still so pleasant and accommodating. “What’s your name?”

“Mary.”

“Okay Mary. I’m glad you called. Would you like to talk to me about what you’re going through? We can talk about anything you’d like.”

“I’m not a freak,” Mary blurts out. “You know? Submissive, or whatever. I’m not. M’normal.”

“Okay,” Sharon says calmly. “Well just so you know, I’m not here to judge. I’m on the spectrum myself.”

Mary blows air through her teeth disdainfully—though deep down, she guesses it’s nice to know that. "So what," she mutters. "You're like, a submissive?

“I’m actually dominant, but I’m not going to do anything to try and boss you around or control you. I’m just here to listen to and support you.” 

“Oh.” She looks down at her glass, feeling like she doesn’t even want to finish drinking it. She’s tired … And sad. “Kay,” she mumbles. “Well I’m not. Like that.”

“You don’t think you have a designation disorder."

Designation disorder, pfft. Mary scoffs again. “Yeah, no.”

“Then why did you call tonight? Do you need someone to talk to?”

She grumbles unintelligibly, then repeats herself when the woman on the phone prompts her. “Some guy just gave me this number. He said that I was.”

“He said that you were what, Honey?”

“… Submissive.” She says the word quietly, embarrassed of it. “But what does he know, right?” She huffs. “Fucking stranger. He doesn’t know me.”

“Okay. What are you going through tonight?” Sharon asks, still sounding kind but also mildly worried. “Do you want to talk about that? About what made you call the hotline?”

Mary sniffles, feeling stupid. She’s suddenly tearing up and she doesn’t even know why. She wipes her eyes hastily and takes another big sip of her drink. “I’m drinking,” she says tearfully, bluntly, expecting to be scolded for it. "M'drunk."

“Okay,” Sharon says. She doesn’t sound mad. “Okay Mary, are you by yourself right now?”

“Yeah. M’in my apartment.”

“Okay. Okay. … Do you drink alone there often?”

Oh. That hits hard for some reason, and suddenly Mary’s crying, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to hold back a sob.

“Mary? Are you there, Honey?”

Honey. Mary cries harder. That's what Bucky had called her. She likes hearing it, but also she feels desperately sad because it reminds her about how she’s all alone and doesn’t have someone to call her ‘Honey’ or ‘Doll’ or ‘good girl’. And nobody’s ever spanked her over their lap, either. 

“Mary?”

“Yeah,” she says, voice all choked up. “Yeah, m’here.”

“Okay. Good.” Mary can hear the sound of typing on the other end of the line. “How are you feeling Mary? Do you think we could make a plan together? Maybe drink some water and get you ready for bed? It’s late. You must be tired, huh?” 

Mary sniffles. “Um,”

“It’d make me so happy if we could make a plan, Mary. Would you do that for me?” 

“... Yeah.”

“Oh, that’s so great. Good girl.”

Mary’s face crumples. She’s not a good girl. She’s not good at all! 

Sharon hears her crying harder and asks worriedly what’s wrong. “Mary,” she says, voice sharper—stern-sounding. “Mary, you need to talk to me and tell me what’s happening.” 

“Sh-sharon?” Mary cries. “What I tell you is private, right? You won’t tell anyone or report me, will you?”

“... The goal is to keep you safe, Honey. I’m here to help you do that,” Sharon says. “You can tell me anything you want to. I’m here to listen, remember?”

She sounds so kind and caring, so steady, and it makes Mary want to tell her everything. It’s been so hard, not having anyone to talk to. And anyway she’s already crying at this point, and it feels good in that way that crying sometimes does, so she might as well. It’s confidential.

She takes a deep breath, takes another big gulp from her glass, and starts spilling her guts to this stranger named Sharon over the phone.

Bucky’s phone rings early in the morning. He groans as he wakes up, grumpily reaching for it. He peeks at the red numbers of the alarm clock over on Steve’s side of the bed: 4:30 AM. 

If this is a robocall this early in the morning, he’s going to be tempted to commit capital murder. “Hello?” he rasps.

“Hello. Is this, um … ‘Bucky’?”

It’s a man’s voice. Bucky squints blearily up at the bedroom’s popcorn ceiling. “Yeah? Who is this?”

“Sir, my name is Officer Santiago with the New York Police Department. I’m calling from Holy Cross Hospital.”

“Hospital?” Bucky says, more alert at hearing that. “You’re a cop?” Why is a cop calling him? Bucky can’t think of a good reason.

“Yes Sir.”

He sits up in the bed. Beside him, Steve starts waking up, too. “Mmph, who is it?” he asks sleepily.

“What’s happened?” Bucky asks, dread already curling in his gut, imagining who could be hurt or dead at the hospital that they’re calling him at this hour …

“We have a woman here,” the officer says. “She called a crisis hotline. The operator was worried about her safety, she contacted us.”

“Those hotlines are supposed to be confidential,” Bucky growls.

“She was making threats of self harm. We had to pick her up. We’ve got her down here at the E.R. at Holy Cross. Involuntary hold.”

“Wait a minute ... What was the hotline she called?” Bucky asks, as the thought occurs to him and he hopes he’s wrong. “It wasn’t a D/s hotline, was it?” 

Beside him in the bed, Steve is grimacing and rubbing his eyes. “Babe?”

“Some submissive crisis line, yeah,” the officer says. 

Bucky’s heart sinks. The woman from the coffee shop yesterday. “Mary,” he murmurs, remembering how neat and cute her handwriting was on her nametag and on the side of his to-go cup. “Shit,” he says.

“She’s stable. She has minor self-inflicted injuries but nothing life threatening. We found your number in her phone.” Here is where the officer starts to sound uneasy. “You’re listed here as her, um … her Dom.”

“I … am?” Bucky’s eyebrows climb his forehead. He hadn’t thought the girl would keep his cell number, let alone save him as a contact. He’d thought he’d pissed her off, that she was too proud, too mortified.

“Babe, who is it?” Steve asks, awake now and frowning at Bucky in concern. He can tell something’s wrong. Bucky shushes him with a gesture and Steve’s face flashes with annoyance. Bucky gives him an apologetic wince.

“Specifically, you’re listed under ‘Asshole Dom Bucky’.” The officer clears his throat uncomfortably. “She wouldn’t give us a number to call, and department policy is to contact designation partners, if possible.”

Bucky opens his mouth to tell the officer that he’s not Mary’s partner, that he doesn’t even really know her. But he stops himself, thinking about what happens to subs who get dragged into the E.R. and go unclaimed. “I … yeah,” he hedges. “Yeah, that’s me.” After an awkward pause and feeling guilty for the lie, he checks, “You said she’s okay?”

“Yes. She’s pretty upset, and intoxicated. But the doctor checked her out and said she’s okay. Well … physically-speaking,” he adds awkwardly. “They’re ready to admit her.”

“Psych unit?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky sighs. “No. That’s not good. It’d be better if I came and got her.”

“Okay.” The officer sounds relieved. “She uh, she’s pretty upset.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that,” Bucky says. “What does that mean? Is she frantic?”

“She’s angry,” the officer says, and it sounds like he’s trying to keep his voice low now. Bucky wonders if Mary is somewhere in the near vicinity of the officer. “Drunk and super pissed. Belligerent.”

“Is she restrained right now?” Bucky asks, worried.

“Yeah. Cuffed to the bed.”

Bucky grits his teeth. “She shouldn’t be restrained by a stranger. It’s not healthy for her. Can't you just watch her?”

“Sorry Sir, that’s our policy when we bring in the involuntary cases. We have to do it.”

Bucky is already up and heading to the closet to grab clothes. “Okay,” he says curtly. “I’m coming to get her. I’ll be there within the hour.”

The officer thanks him and Bucky hangs up. He looks back at Steve, who is propped up on his side and staring at him in something close to shock. 

“Buck, what the hell?”

Bucky winces and goes back to the bed. He climbs up and takes Steve’s hand. Steve isn’t on the spectrum, but his dynamic with Bucky has always been more on the subservient side. Bucky sees that he’s not mad, is just waiting for an explanation, so he takes a breath and tells him, “You remember the woman I told you about? The one at the coffee shop?”

Steve nods. “The lemon tarts.”

“Yeah, her. She’s in the hospital. A psych hold, that was the NYPD on the phone. Somehow they think I’m her Dom, and she’s being difficult. Won’t give ‘em a name of anybody they can release her to.”

“Oh, man.” Steve is well-educated on the intricacies of Designated people: He’s married to one, after all.

“Baby.” Bucky rubs the back of Steve’s hand. “I have to go get her.”

“You don’t ‘have’ to,” Steve corrects. He looks at Bucky knowingly. “But you want to, don’t you?”

Bucky doesn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or not. “I … yeah. I want to.” He and Steve have talked about the possibility of bringing another person into their marriage one day, a submissive to meet Bucky’s needs. Steve has always been open to the idea, especially since they’re both bisexual.

“We gonna try and make that work out?” 

Bucky scoffs. “That’s way down the road.”

“But it would be good for you too, wouldn’t it?” 

He shrugs, and then admits, “Yeah, probably.” Bucky’s what’s known as a ‘high needs’ dominant. The condition affects him more severely than it does others. He tries to figure out if Steve is at all upset by what they’re discussing. “It’s crazy, I know,” he says. “Not exactly what we always talked about. We don’t even know her.”

“But she’s in trouble,” Steve says. “And you were drawn to her.”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah. I don’t think she has anyone else to go to. And they’re talking about admitting her to the psych unit.”

“That’s not good, is it?”

“No. They won’t have the knowledge to help her. Places like that tend to use meds first and ask questions second.” He sees Steve’s wince and nods. “It could definitely make things worse.”

“What’s wrong with her? Subdrop?”

“I don’t know. Cop said she was self-harming and drinking. That’s all I know so far.”

Steve nods. “Can I go with you?” he looks hopeful and ready to jump into action, and Bucky is surprised—even though he knows he shouldn’t be.

“Babe, you want to do this? Bring her home? Take care of her?”

Steve nods, stalwart. “We should try. It’s the best option she has. If it works out, great. And if not … well we can get her the help she needs, at least.”

Bucky nods. Steve is on-board. He doesn’t think this is stupid, or crazy. Bucky’s chest swells with affection for him. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Steve leans over and kisses him on the mouth. “I trust you,” he says. “And I love you.”

Bucky smiles, stupidly in-love with his husband. “Love you too, Stevie.”

They kiss once more, and then Steve is pulling back and clapping his hands together. “Alright! Let’s get going if we’re really doing this.” He hefts himself out of the bed, moving with purpose. “She’s waiting for us.”

Us, Bucky thinks happily, realizing that it’s true: They’re husbands—soulmates, in his opinion. They’re partners, an inseparable unit ever since the day they got married, and they do everything together. So it’ll be the two of them taking care of this woman together. They’ll be a team, each giving her what she needs in their own ways. And maybe it’ll go somewhere, who knows? Thinking about it makes Bucky feel settled and satisfied inside, the barest ghost of the sort of feeling he gets from domming someone.

Impulsive as it is, he’s got a hunch that this is the right decision.

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[sjsmith56]

Sanctuary - A Private Man, Chapter 19

Summary: Bucky’s text message alerts Sam to what he secretly feared. The Avengers are officially recalled to duty. Tracey and Nebula arrive in Wakanda.

Length: 4.3 K

Characters: Sam, Rebecca, Janice, Wong, Tracey, Nebula, Shuri.

Warnings: Feelings of betrayal, concern about a character’s motives.

Author notes: at the end as I had a bit of a rant about how I wrote this chapter originally.

<<Chapter 18

The text message chimed on Sam's phone, and he raised his head as he reached out for it. Brooklyn was all it said, and it was from Bucky's phone.

"Shit," he muttered, then he jumped out of their bed, quickly getting dressed as he phoned Rhodey. His sleepy voice answered. "They attacked. I'm getting Rebecca and Janice up then texting Wong for a portal. I haven't phoned Bucky's phone, but I have to assume it's compromised."

"I'll alert the President," replied Rhodey, all sleepiness gone. "Then I'll alert everyone else. Never thought I would be the one to say this, but Avengers assemble."

"I'll be there as soon as I get these two to safety," answered Sam.

Quickly he ran down the stairs to where Janice was sleeping. "Hey, it's happening. Time to go."

"Be right there," she said, pulling the covers back. "Any word of Tracey?"

"No, but I haven't phoned back, yet. Have to get you two to safety first."

He headed back upstairs and was met by Rebecca, heading for the bathroom.

"I heard you get up. Did they make their move?"

He nodded and she continued to the bathroom. Texts from others started appearing on his phone and he swore when one of the texts, from Peter Parker, said John Walker left his home at 10 pm the previous night and boarded a private jet at LaGuardia at 11. Peter hacked the FAA for the flight plan learning the jet was flown to Nassau. They always suspected Walker was part of it. Matt Murdock was sure Walker was lying to him when he asked for help getting out of his contract. Sam forwarded that text to Rhodey, suggesting Olivia Walker be taken into custody. Next, he phoned Clint.

"You still have that quinjet in your barn?" he asked.

"Yeah," was the terse answer.

"Head to the Kamalame Cay Resort in the Bahamas. Confirm that Bucky was taken. We don't know if Tracey was also taken but there was a contingency to get her out. It was Nebula's idea, but we didn't tell Bucky exactly. Wanted them to enjoy their honeymoon."

"On it," replied Clint. "All hands?"

"Yeah, you should be getting the alert any moment. Meet you at the rendezvous."

A portal opened and Wong came through.

"You're not in your wings."

"I'm doing it right now," replied Sam, heading to the bedroom. "The ladies are getting ready."

Janice came up the stairs with Alley Cat in his cat carrier, and a bag slung over her shoulder, dropping them on the kitchen table, the cat meowing loudly. She knocked on Rebecca's door and entered to help her get ready. As Wong fidgeted, he could hear Sam taking more calls. Rebecca and Janice came out of the bedroom. The older woman smiled at Wong.

"I have to phone my personal aide to cancel for the week, then I'm good to go," she said to him.

"Okay," he replied.

She phoned Amina and asked her to make sure to cancel everyone, aides, physiotherapist and nurse visit due to an emergency. After some questions from Amina, she assured her that they were all fine as it was an Avengers thing. Wong scowled at her after she hung up.

"Was that wise?" he asked.

"Probably not but the other side already knows you'll respond, right?"

He shrugged then nodded as Sam came out in his winged suit, carrying his case. Noticing the two women he hugged them.

"I'll contact you when I can," he said. "Buck knows what he's doing. If our contingency plan worked Tracey will join you and you'll all be safe."

He stepped back as Wong opened a portal. The women went through, and he looked through it to see an acknowledgment from Ayo on the other side. Wong closed the portal then looked at Sam.

"Where to?" he asked.

"Florida, anywhere near Miami. Take care of my case."

"Be careful," said Wong. "Big money means corruption. Trust no one."

Sam nodded and went through the portal that closed behind him. Then Wong opened another portal back to the Sanctum to wait for when his services were needed again.

Nearing the coast of Africa

A light touch on her shoulder awakened Tracey. Nebula was standing over her.

"We're approaching the coast," she said. "There's something I have to tell you."

Rubbing her eyes Tracey sat up. "What is it?"

"I was sent to make sure you got away and that Bucky gave up his arm," she said. "He didn't know I was coming but he knew there was a contingency to get you to safety. He was sure they would attack and thought they would take him."

"No, he wouldn't do that, not deliberately," said Tracey. "He would have told me."

"He planned for this before you found out you were pregnant. He hoped to get away with us but knew if he was on the inside then the Wakandans could still track him."

"How?"

"Quantum entanglement," said Nebula. "His arm and his shoulder have a connection that can be tracked over long distances."

"But you said you wanted to go to your home before I convinced you to go to Wakanda," replied Tracey. "Were you lying about being there to help us?"

"Not exactly," said the blue cyborg. "I volunteered because he would believe I was going to Knowhere and that's what he would tell them, so they would know the arm was out of reach. Wakanda might be facing attack, but they can track Bucky, and they can still protect you better. You can probably get a signal now. On your phone."

Looking at the signal Tracey saw one bar. She wasn't sure about Nebula's incomplete answer but decided calling Sam was worth a try. Dialling him, she waited for what seemed like forever to hear the call connect.

"Bucky?" said Sam's voice.

"No, it's Tracey," she replied. "They have him, Sam. Nebula was there to take his arm and she helped me get away. We're just over Africa."

"With the arm?" he asked, as if not believing they had it.

"Yeah, with his arm," said Tracey. "Is it true? Did he know this would happen?"

There was silence for several moments and she felt a knot of dread beginning in her stomach. "We all suspected they would try when you were away from help. It's why he took his gear. We sent Nebula ourselves, a contingency to make sure you got away, although he didn't know it would be her. If they knew you were pregnant, there's no telling what they would do to you."

"What will they do to him?" she asked, not wanting to hear an answer.

"I'm not going to speculate on that," he replied. "I do know that he's going to disrupt them as much as he can. There's one more thing. It's looking like John Walker was part of it all along."

"All Bucky ever wanted was to live his life without anyone interfering," said Tracey, trying to keep from breaking down. "Why couldn't they just leave him alone?"

"I know," said Sam. "When he found you, he had hope for that life. He still does, if we can stop these people from completing their plans."

His voice began to break up while Tracey said his name, but Sam didn't answer, and she realized the call had been dropped. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Nebula's face. As impassive as that face was, she thought she saw empathy in the cyborg's artificial eyes.

"We're almost to the border," Nebula said quietly. "I have to wait to be recognized before they'll let us in. I could drop you off just outside."

"What about the arm?" asked Tracey, realizing something. "You want it for yourself, don't you?"

"I want to give it to Rocket," she admitted. "He's wanted it for a long time and he's family to me."

"But it's not yours to give him," explained Tracey. "You would have stolen it from Bucky. That's why you were really there, wasn't it? Not as a contingency but to get the arm while he was vulnerable."

"I wouldn't have hurt him," said Nebula. "After I got the arm, I would have helped you both get away, but they got there faster than I thought and when he asked me to take care of you, I couldn't say no."

"Now you want to leave me, unprotected, outside the border, so you can take the arm and go." The blue cyborg lowered her eyes and nodded, showing shame in her posture. From what the woman, and Tracey saw her as a woman, had told her and what she had observed, it was obvious that Nebula had suffered greatly in her past. This Rocket was someone that meant something to her. To give the arm to Rocket was her way of showing him how much she cared about him. It was still wrong, but it was understandable. "Then stay with me, help with what is happening, and I'll ask the Wakandans to make an arm for you to take to Rocket. You can give it to him for Christmas."

"You would do that for me?"

"Yeah, I would," replied Tracey. "You helped me, even though you really didn't want to. Nebula, we all do things we regret at one time or another, even deliberately hurting someone to make us feel better. But what's important is what you do from now on. If you stay and help, I won't tell anyone about what your real plans were. We'll keep it between us, as friends."

"Friends? You want to be my friend?”

There was disbelief in Nebula's voice plus what sounded like a little bit of hope. "Yes, I would like to be your friend," declared Tracey.

A message appeared on the display of the mining pod drawing their attention away from each other. It was giving Nebula a code to enter in order to open the shield that surrounded Wakanda. It also said there would be a couple of fighters to escort them to the capital, Birnin Zana. With Tracey smiling her encouragement Nebula entered the code and flew the pod through the gap in the shield. As it closed behind them two fighters appeared on either side and matched their speed to hers. They took over control of the pod and guided it between them, while the two women inside watched. As they flew to the capital, they went through another shield and it was there in front of them, a beautiful city like nothing either of them had ever seen.

"It's beautiful," said the cyborg woman before turning to the other. "That Ross and Fontaine want to destroy this, don't they?"

"They want to control it all," replied Tracey. "They want the vibranium and if they have to destroy the city to get it they will."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For wanting to steal the arm. It's vibranium but I really just wanted to give Rocket something that he's wanted for a long time. During the Snap we only had each other as the others were dust. He's ... important to me."

Tracey looked with compassion at the blue woman. "Tell me more about quantum entanglement. Does it just occur between inanimate objects or is it between biological beings as well?"

"Both," replied Nebula. "I have memories from before Thanos took me of knowing my mother was safe, even though we were apart. I was told then it was the connection that living beings with an emotional relationship have. It's fragile and strong at the same time. Your child would be the connection of the quantum entanglement between you and Bucky. The connection between Bucky's arm and shoulder comes from the vibranium in both as they were created at the same time."

"Did you want the arm to give to Rocket so you had a quantum entanglement connecting you?" asked Tracey, looking intently at the other woman.

If metal skin could blush Tracey thought she read that reaction on the cyborg's face. "I don't feel love like humans or biological beings do. I remember what it felt like, but Thanos took so much from me and replaced it with cybernetic parts that I'm incapable of feeling it that way anymore."

"But you feel something," pressed Tracey. She took her necklace off and looked at it then placed it around Nebula's neck. "I want to give you this so that there is a connection between us, as friends. How do you feel about that?"

The jet black eyes seemed to glisten for a moment. "I feel something ... I'm unsure what it is. If I could cry I think I would."

"Then I guess we have a quantum entanglement connection between us," said the dark-haired human. "We will always be friends, even if we never see each other again. You saved me, Nebula. I will always be in your debt."

She looked past the blue metallic head of the woman in front of her to see they were almost at ground level outside of an incredibly beautiful building, tall and full of windows letting in the natural light. A slight thud confirmed they had landed and Tracey picked up the bag containing Bucky's arm, noticing how Nebula watched her closely. The latter pressed the control to open the sliding door and Tracey stepped out into the heat of the open space, followed by the cyborg woman. A contingent of incredibly beautiful but stern looking women with shaved heads waited for them. One of them came forward.

"Mrs. Barnes? My name is Ayo. Please come with me. You too, Nebula."

Although it was said politely it was not a request and the two women followed the tall warrior, noting several others stepped in place behind them. They entered the building which was just as spectacular inside as it was outside. Considering they were in a country located on the equator Tracey expected the sun streaming in would have heated the inside of the building to a very warm temperature but it was instead very comfortable. They walked towards an elevator and entered it. The guards behind them stayed out of the passenger space but when it opened at its destination there were others waiting to take their place. Finally they came close to what appeared to be a lab. Tracey could hear the sound of voices and her heart leaped when she recognized her mother's and Rebecca's voices.

"Mom!" she called and began to run.

Ayo let her pass as Janice came into view. She stepped forward with her arms open and embraced Tracey, running her hands through her daughter's hair. Another woman, who Tracey recognized as Shuri waved her hand and Ayo motioned for the guards to leave.

"You're okay?" asked Janice. "They didn't hurt you?"

"No, Nebula got me out of there before they arrived," she replied. "They got Bucky. He was just a few feet from us and they tasered him. He told us to leave without him. That Walker was in on it. I talked to Sam briefly and he told me."

"He'll be alright," said Rebecca, who appeared in front of Tracey. The two women hugged. "He can handle himself. Keeping you safe was his priority."

"You knew?" asked Tracey. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"Because he didn't want them to drag the information out of you if you were caught," said Shuri, who stepped forward and took Tracey by the hand. "Sergeant Barnes has been through the worst torture imaginable in his past and he would face it again to keep you and your child safe." She noticed the bag that Tracey carried. "His arm?"

"Yes, Nebula said you can track him through quantum entanglement," replied the pregnant woman. "Is that true?"

"It is," she replied. "May I?"

Tracey handed Shuri the bag and she placed it on a table, opening it and removing the arm from it. Taking it to another table she hooked it up to several leads then turned on a virtual display as the other women crowded around her. Using a virtual keyboard, she began entering codes to access the arm's computer system then found what she was looking for and with a wave of her hands transferred the image to the large space in front of them. Together they all watched and waited as the arm sought out its connection with Bucky's shoulder. It took time before the system found it and zeroed in on it, giving a GPS position of latitude and longitude.

"Send the coordinates to the Avengers," Shuri ordered then she looked specifically at Ayo and nodded. She turned on her heel and left. "Ayo will also provide the coordinates to our War Dogs that will head to that location. They will assist the Avengers in locating Sergeant Barnes and taking his captors into custody. All we can do is wait."

"What if they attack here while your War Dogs are there?" asked Tracey. "Won't that put your country in danger?"

Shuri smiled confidently. "That's the thing," she said. "They won't be able to breach our defences and if they do they won't be able to handle our warriors. If they do come here we even have a contingency plan to get you all to safety." She looked past Tracey and smiled at the man approaching them. "Ladies, meet our favourite colonizer. Former CIA agent Everett Ross."

"Mrs. Barnes," he said, holding his hand out to shake hers, then turning to Rebecca and Janice. "Mrs. Proctor, Mrs. Harris. My ex-wife Val de Fontaine and Thaddeus Ross, have aligned themselves with some very ruthless corporate interests but Val also has something of mine, that has our own quantum entanglement." They looked blankly at him. "My kimoyo bead bracelet was confiscated by her. In her zeal to explore their workings she exposed herself to the Wakandans. Queen Shuri has used the beads to spy on them. We'll know when they're coming. They have mostly mercenaries and a few enhanced or highly skilled individuals that were taken as Sergeant Barnes was, against their will. Your husband will disrupt them as much as he can and win over the other captives to help him. If they do manage to break through Wakandan defences then I will pilot you all out of here."

"What about me and my pod?" asked Nebula. "I didn't have to come here."

"No, but it is good you did," replied Shuri. "Mrs. Barnes would have been exposed to all forms of radiation if you took her to Knowhere. It wouldn't have killed her but it would affect her child's development. If evacuation is necessary you may take your pod and make your own way, if that is your choice."

"No one will stop me?"

Shuri tilted her head slightly, appearing puzzled by the question as it was obvious that if they had to leave the Wakandans would not hold her back. "No one will stop you. Now, perhaps this is a good time for you to go to your quarters and freshen up. Mrs. Barnes, I assume you left without the time to pack a bag. We can provide comfortable clothing for you."

Nebula's eyes flickered to the arm before looking back at Shuri and bowing her head. A Dora Milaje warrior appeared and the other women were asked to accompany her to their quarters with a promise to call them if there was anything to report. Everett Ross went with them. Tracey stopped and looked at Shuri for a moment.

"Could I speak to you privately?" she asked.

Shuri nodded at the guard to continue and Tracey approached her, waiting until the others left. She looked at the young queen for several moments before putting her question to her.

"Are you able to build another prosthetic arm?" she asked.

Shuri smiled at first, thinking it was a joke. When she saw that Tracey was serious she pulled a stool out for her to sit on.

"There already is another arm," she said. "It has been under construction for several weeks; an upgrade for your husband in anticipation of him joining the Avengers. May I ask why you need to know this?"

"I want you to give this arm to Nebula," said Tracey. "It's important for her to have it."

"I'm well aware that her associate, Rocket Raccoon, has expressed interest in acquiring the arm," said Shuri, her face sterner than it had been previously. "Vibranium is not something we give away normally. How can I be sure that they won't try to use it to build a weapon? Rocket is known for his ability to create devastating weapons out of innocuous materials."

Tracey sighed, unsure how to put it. "How much do you know about Nebula?" she asked.

"She is almost a complete cybernetic being," replied Shuri. "What does that have to do with it?"

"Before Thanos took her she was more organic, less machine," began Tracey. "He replaced much of her biological nature as punishment or torture. She still remembers how it felt to love, and to care about things, but it's like they are echoes of what she once was."

"Go on," said Shuri.

"During the Snap, only her and Rocket survived during those five years and they became close. He is the closest thing to family for her but with him being more organic and her being more artificial that connection between them isn't fully evident to her and she feels the lack of that. Even though Bucky and I are apart I still feel the connection which I always assumed was some sort of emotional construct that my mind used to convince me of his wellbeing. But when she explained quantum entanglement I realized it is tangible, that there can be a connection between two inanimate or living objects. It just makes sense that it can be extended to a deep friendship between an organic being and an artificial being if the method of entanglement, a gift from her to him, connects them. That's what the arm means to her."

Shuri took in a deep breath and let it out audibly as she realized what Tracey was saying.

"Do you know this for a fact?" she asked.

"I'm a nurse and I visit old, lonely people every week to check on their health, take their blood pressure, question them about their mental state in a way that isn't too obvious, determining if they are living a life with meaning. I try to do it with kindness so that they feel like their existence matters and it does." She stopped, trying to choose her words carefully. "Nebula is the first cybernetic being I have ever met but she has a soul, of that I am certain. Despite all the torture inflicted on her by her father figure, all while believing her sister wanted to kill her, then reconciling and losing her sister, the only constant that I've been able to glean from her has been that friendship with a sentient raccoon who was also subject to a comparable regime of torture to make him that way. She has a bond with him and giving him the arm is a visible expression of how much he means to her. She helped defeat Thanos, and despite her motives now she helped me get away and still tried to help Bucky until he demanded that she go. She's as complex emotionally as any human. I would say that's a fact."

"There is a way I could render the vibranium in the arm inert, so that it is unable to be used as a weapon," mused Shuri. "It would change the appearance slightly, making it more blue in colour than its normal black."

"Can you do that soon?" asked Tracey. "I worry that she might try to steal it again before we get Bucky back." She shrugged at Shuri's look of concern. "I know but she's not perfect. The temptation might be too much."

"Very well," said Shuri. "I will do as you ask and will have our technicians speed up the completion of the replacement arm. Nebula must have left quite the impression on you in your journey here."

"I just know what it's like to have a terrible father and to feel like you're all alone in the universe," replied Tracey. "No one deserves to feel that way."

Another Dora Milaje came to escort Tracey to her room and Shuri thought over what she had said. She also thought over what wasn't said. Nebula had probably agreed to go to their honeymoon spot with the intent of taking the arm but still tried to rescue the couple when the attack began. She did feel obligations but her emotional state was so underdeveloped that she likely would shift those obligations without warning. Shuri turned back to the arm. It had already been decided that rendering the vibranium inert shouldn't interfere with the tracking system.  If the cyborg did steal the arm while it was here then she might have to use the connection between Tracey, the baby, and Bucky to find him again. She hoped that Nebula wouldn't as it would be harder, given that it was still early in the pregnancy and the baby was just a cluster of cells that had yet to implant in the uterine wall. At least, it would be if it was a normal pregnancy. Given the symptoms that Tracey had reported it was possible the development of the baby was accelerated. There was also the likelihood that Barnes would need to use the arm one last time. Shuri let out her breath. She had a lot of work to do, the arm to modify, a country to govern, and the preparation for a possible invasion. It was a good thing that she liked challenges. Of course, all of it was moot if Bucky had to implement his backup plan. Only the raccoon would come out ahead if that happened.

Author's note:  Buckle up, this is a long note with the first part being a bit of a rant.  First, I am not a fan of the Guardians of the Galaxy Christmas special.  It cheapened Nebula as a character and without explaining exactly how she got Bucky’s arm, the implication was that she used violence on him, exposing him to trauma for a “feel good” Christmas moment. I didn’t buy it.  Don't @ me to debate it, as I won't change my mind. 

Until Nebula appeared in the bedroom of their beach villa I was having a hard time determining how Bucky would get Tracey to safety.  He made it clear that she is everything to him and that he would die to keep her safe.  So, I made the decision to bring Nebula in as a willing volunteer to provide an escape route for the couple.  You may recall that Rebecca already suggested Bucky get rid of the arm to reduce his value to Ross and Fontaine.  It's been percolating in his mind ever since and when he realizes Nebula has a pod he makes the decision to give it up, and have them take it with them, knowing it will piss off his captors that they have him but not all of him.  We know that Bucky is just as capable without it.  That's why the Wakandans had him live and work on a farm, one armed, so that he would believe that the arm does not define him.  His inner character does.

Second, Tracey is a nurse, a profession that many empathetic people work in.  Even though Nebula is almost entirely cybernetic, Tracey was still able to read her emotionally.  She felt the turmoil Nebula was in but used her empathy to tease out what the woman really wanted and why.  Tracey found common ground with Nebula (abusive father) and understands her need for connection to feel love (even if it is artificially created by her cybernetic parts).  Knowing that Bucky has a replacement arm in progress she saw an opportunity to help a traumatized individual grow emotionally by asking Shuri to give Nebula the arm.  Will it happen?  Keep reading to find out.

Third, Quantum entanglement: This is a quote from an article written by Paul Sutter, May 26, 2021 for the online science website LiveScience. It was one of the easier definitions for a lay person to understand that I found.

"Quantum entanglement is one of the uber-bizarre phenomena seen when things get itty-bitty, or inside the quantum realm. When two or more particles link up in a certain way, no matter how far apart they are in space, their states remain linked. That means they share a common, unified quantum state. So observations of one of the particles can automatically provide information about the other entangled particles, regardless of the distance between them. And any action to one of these particles will invariably impact the others in the entangled system."

It's heady scientific stuff that I don't even begin to understand.  Just days before I began writing this chapter (in spring, 2023) I was blindsided by a factoid on some tv show (which I can't find because it wasn't something I was paying attention to until they said quantum entanglement) that scientists are trying to determine if the different phenomena of sympathetic twins (twins which feel pain between them even if they were separated at birth), or other similar occurrences of things felt by the connection of two people separated by distance, are a result of quantum entanglement between their organic sub-atomic particles, or perhaps even the sub-atomic particles generated by their emotional connection.  Does this blow your mind?  Because it blew mine. Even if quantum entanglement can't be used how I've used it in the story it seemed a good plot point to introduce an interesting scientific concept.

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[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Big Sky Eyes

Chapter Sixteen

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Pairing: Cowboy!Bucky Barnes x Disabled!OFC Maybe Cole

A/N: Thank you, Mea C, for your Coffee Update! Sorry, I didn't get this out in September. Life is getting in the way of my writing.

Warning: language

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[adventures-with-ana]

- Anticipation -

Bucky Barnes x OFC // 488 (Written in 1st person, no character name or description given.) 18+ only, minors dni; A nervous tick just might lead surprising places.

Author's Note: Inspired by this post: x

It shouldn’t be taking this long. Steve and Natasha were supposed to be in and out, a quick mission.

“Nothing could go wrong,” Steve had told me.

What a lying asshole, I thought.

In my nervous waiting I went from repeatedly clicking my pen, to tapping it on the table, to outright banging it on the table while I waited for something; anything. A white flag, a flurry of noise over the dead silent comms, anything at all to tell me that Steve and Nat were okay or needed help.

“Would you stop that?” Bucky snaps, grabbing the pen out of my hand. “How would you feel if I banged you on a table?” he questions.

My eyebrows rise. He didn’t mean that in the way I understood it, and his face proved that as his expression changes from annoyance to ghost white horror. He turns away from me, his cheeks flushing with what I assume to be embarrassment.

“So should I answer that, or…?” I ask with a slight snicker.

“You know what I meant,” Bucky mutters, still not looking at me.

“I mean, it would be one way to pass the time,” I tease.

Bucky’s head snaps towards me so fast I don’t know how he didn’t break his own neck. “Excuse me?”

“I have eyes, Barnes,” I tell him, looking him over to prove my point.

Ever since the day SHIELD recruited me I’d spent my time eyeing up the former Winter Soldier. His power, his strength, his dashing good looks, his gorgeous blue eyes, the way his ass looked perfectly firm in his tactical pants. It was no small wonder how I was ever able to focus on anything when he was around, and every training session I ever had with the man was revisited every night when I was alone in my room.

Bucky blinks at me and once again I found myself wishing I could read minds. I would love to know everything he was thinking. “So does that mean you have a preference of tables?” he asks, his features rearranging themselves into a wicked little smirk that made me feel like I was going to melt into a puddle.

“Yeah,” I reply. “The closest available one.”

Bucky’s eyes darken deliciously as he stands up and steps over to me. “Then get up,” he commands, his tone making my knees weak and my heart pound.

“Make me,” I challenge him.

He wraps his fingers around my biceps and pulls me to my feet. “You always were a brat.”

A smirks toys at the corners of my lips. “You always seemed like a man who could handle it.”

“Maybe I’ll just spank it out of you,” He replies.

He releases my arms, but the second his hands cup my cheeks and his lips are centimeters from mine… the comms crackle to life and Steve’s voice ruins my entire day.

“Asset acquired, heading out.”