#NO ONE IS TOUCHING A SINGLE (1) HAIR OF BUCKY | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

samodivaa · 6 months ago

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permeated by jealously

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Summary: In your tight-fitting red dress, you look ravishing for the date with a Russian guy—but the moment you retort to Bucky in Russian, it begs to be ripped from your body.

Warnings: smut, angst, kitchen sex, rough/possessive, unprotected p in v, miscommunication Words: 4k

Bucky's veins are full of the serum, but at this moment, they are full with belladonna tincture, the substance of jealousy. Seeing you with another man, he speaks of Love in the past tense. The scene that plays in front of him—that guy coming to pick you up from the compound, is perfectly adapted to a temporal phenomenon: distinct, abrupt, framed, already a memory. For a split second you stare at each other, you smile at him ruefully. A fleeting, lasting moment for Bucky. Why do you even notice him? Seeing you happy, gives mixed colors to the air of the moment—he is lost in time, sleeping being his only lover.

Bucky wants to kiss you. Instead he puts his lips on the tumbler glass, pretending that it is you. His t-shirt is unbuttoned at the top, and he runs a hand through his hair before he puts the glass down on the kitchen counter—flashes of you in that dress that you wear for your date and the way it lifts your body up from a single look races through his head.

His cock jerks and he shakes his head, grinning as he stares down the bottle of vodka next to his cup.

And, for the first time in his innocent and confined life, he senses in himself a potential for a different corruption that takes his breath away. He doesn’t blame himself. He is a curious, wanting thing—finally, enlightened and free, but also lustful and carnal. But It stabs at him, almost like a physical pain, and he feels both deprived and angry, deprived because Bucky wishes to be with you and angry, because his own choices causes him misery. ----- “It is almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare, you're so relieved. I just wake up into another nightmare."

"And what is that nightmare, Bucky?" He keeps his blue, lusterless eyes fixed on Natasha with a calm but warm and kindly expression in them as he thinks how to say it "My love life” “Maybe you need to ask her on a date, that’s what Vladimir does”

“Vladimir? Oh , so it is not just 'that one guy' anymore?” he says in a quiet voice, without a trace of irritation, with a note of the simplest curiosity, his lips quivering as a forced smile comes on to his face. Nat momentarily startles. Then she starts to laugh. “You’re jealous of him?”

He clenches his jaw. “I’m not jealous,” a note of personal affront creeps into his voice “I don’t like his name” ----- You are on a date, having fun—but anxiety grabs his mind, it is self-perpetuating. Worrisome thoughts reproduce faster than rabbits, he is trying not to lose his balance. Not yet. Especially when the jealousy sets in.

Bucky is conscious every moment in himself of many, many elements positively swarming in him, ah these, opposite elements. He knows that they have been swarming in him since you started going out with Vladimir and they are craving some outlet from him, but he doesn't let them, would not let them, purposely would not let them come out, because he believes there is nothing so self-destroying, and so despicable, as his jealousy. He tries to appear as a hard shell on the outside when you finally enter the kitchen at 1 am—while there is a runny mess on the inside as he tenses, waiting for you to say something, anything. When you near the sink, your fingers find the curve of the faucet, the metal cool beneath the touch. He turns around to lean against the counter as you pour a cup of cold water. Bucky stares hard at you, watching you take a long drink then he follows the flick of your tongue over your bottom lip. His heart stumbles a beat. He is in such an irritated frame of mind, because of your quietness that in rude and abrupt fashion he blurts out the words: “You must love that dress”

He takes time persing down the length of your body as you take a step back, watching you press against the counter and then back up before locking on your eyes again. You are not wearing a bra and your nipples harden from having his eyes on you. Red, the front needlessly too scandalous—at least for Bucky. The dipping v lets him see the swelled sides of your breasts pushed up and together. Just to be sure, though, a golden necklace with a teardrop pearl at the end, letting it trail just over your cleavage.

“I didn’t know that you notice what I am wearing when I go out”

You answer, trying to look as innocent as possible. The vindictive smile that stretches on your ruined lipstick sends shivers down Bucky’s spine—did you make out with the guy, maybe more than that? You look beautiful sitting there looking at him like a she-cat. All he has to do is look at you, and he lusts. He wants to take off that delectable dress and make love to you until you don't have the energy to go out with anyone else ever again.

“You’ve worn it for the second time. For your date.”

His gaze drops from your eyes, to the swell of your chest. Your chest tightens and you bite your lip to hide the grin wanting to escape. You notice the disgust written on his face and you laugh coldly, gaze never leaving his buff frame. With the certainty that you have well and truly punished him for not asking you on a single date. The angry, feral part of you feels so close to the surface that you can almost scent its blood-clotted fur. You want to lick the scratches you’ve made on him. You want to scratch him until he breaks apart. You gulp down the rest of your water to ease the heat flaming across your skin. Then you lick your lips. His gaze tracks the movement. You think you stopped breathing.

“His name is Vlad”

An audacious expression plasters on his face as you sigh in irritation at Bucky, rolling your eyes. Bucky is still leaning against the counter and rests his metal hand on the countertop while sipping vodka from the mug in his other hand. A beautiful yet deadly ornament—vibranium has no business being as hot as it is on him.

A note of personal affront creeps into his voice “Vladimir, mhm”

“What else have you noticed about me?” your grin becomes a touch leery, innocently cocking your head to the side.

“Try me” he says softly.

“Favorite color?” you ask, interrogatively.

He chuckles “Red”

“Favorite quote?”

Your brows lift, anticipation making your nerves sing. You are not sure what he is about to say, but you have the feeling that it will be the right one, your heart leaps at the thought.

“Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid” he answers, this time winking at you “I know everything about you, sweetheart” he adds and you feel like smacking that stupid grin off his face.

His mind works well when it comes to his work as an avenger, hovering on hummingbird wings, but when it comes to you, especially when you purposely play with his jealousy, It finds a way to push through any seal of his mind, his expressions are always an array of masks he uses to cover it up his emotions—but now, it is all over his face, pure surrender, because he is affected and you can tell, he is staring impudently at you, awning for your response.

“I prefer kotyonok. Vlad says that cognac and wine is all for the heart and that vodka is for the soul. If it's hurting real bad and you’ve never had vodka before”

His brows lift, because this does surprise him and his stomach tightens at that particular Russian word. His mouth curls into a small snarl at the thought of that stupid man calling you that. A pang of jealousy surges through him. The bad kind. The kind of longing that makes him wonder that there must be a natural comorbidity between sexual appetite and sexual jealousy, between the desire to fuck and the desire to kill. He clears his throat, his face souring before his mocking tone grates:

“Looks like you know a thing or two about me, too”

He is trying to not be overcome by emotion. Emotion is the art of breaking hearts, minds, and tongues―but jealousy is too much, even for Bucky. He settles back into himself, shaking whatever momentary emotion flitted over his face and replacing it with a confident aura that screams laid back and in control as he cages you to the counter, his flesh hand still holding his half full cup. Your throat gurgles slightly, looking at the bigger frame towering you through your lashes like the starved woman you are. You are overwhelmed by his bold move, leaving you both speechless and breathless, but even then it is important to identify the correct emotion here—lust, a longing that goes on a loop. You try to ignore his hard cock pressing against your thigh, your attention remains on his face. You feel drunk without a drink, your nerves tighten, making your muscles clench―this is going exactly how you want. You want him to kiss you. But you make sure to keep your facial features mundane and level. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to think you have a crush on me, Bucky” You also ignore the annoying, visible blush on your cheeks, he must have noticed it because his expression goes grim for a second before a surprised laugh almost breaks free from his lips, responding only by a clink of his tumbler against yours. Judging by the rumble that vibrates in his chest, he likes your reaction, though the noise ends on a cynical note. His blue eyes drop to your mouth, warmth pours through your body and you moisturize your lips as he presses his knee between your legs. Right against your clit—you breathe out, a wave of pleasure sliding down your spine while Bucky just tips his glass back the last of vodka, allowing the burn to sear his throat and warm his stomach—while casually grinding his leg slowly against you, creating a sensation that has heat winding through your core and shooting down your legs. “Na zdorovie” (cheers) You smile venomously with a kind of joyous sigh, your arrogance in this moment makes you feel very confident. Up to this moment possessiveness has not been that much of a torment, now it suddenly gnaws at his heart. As in slow motion, he pulls back to put both glasses on the counter. He realizes that you do something to him. Every time. It’s your only detriment this past month. To step on his heart—to test his feelings for you, and his jealousy already has made him erupt like a volcano. He has never been jealous before he met you. It burns. Some nights, watching you go with other men on missions, even that drives him mad.

“You and that fucking mouth, kotyonok” His voice sounds ill-natured, bitter, politeness that would only be laughed at, restraining an unruly nature, wary of the ways that you are trying to provoke him, but his tone shifts at the last word. Voice warm and low. Intimate. You like it this way. You like the way it sounds and it makes you gasp. “You like this, don’t you, pretty girl?” Your character has absolutely changed. It is an entirely new and hitherto unknown being who now stands and stares at him somewhat lovingly. There is evidently, he concludes, something at work here, some storm of the mind, some paroxysm of emotion which he won’t question. When you say nothing, his hands move to your waist, his vision already blurring. His bones fill up with foam, a languid fear, and a terrible desire. You let out a deep breath and can’t deny the strange elation you feel when you feel his hands, needing more of it, of his touch. Your pussy contracts as his hands reach around, gripping a handful of your ass, forcing you harder against his both body and leg. The grip is both bruising and possessive, controlling every movement. “Oh, god-” You open your mouth, and Bucky dips down, catching the moan with his tongue. Satisfaction sparks in his irises and he tilts his head and keeps watching you with those fucking lethal eyes of his. Bucky gives a small grin, a fake one. The type that shows no teeth and barely lifts at the corners. You feel a very small spark to your ego, knowing you are getting a rise out of him. But all of the playfulness in the air drowns beneath the intensity of his thousand shades of blue dancing in his eyes as if he is peeling back your mental layers, his eyes looking down watching the bare length of thigh that shows through the slit in your dress.

“You and these dresses” he groans. Whether you want to admit it or not, physically, this man affects you more than anyone else ever has, and that causes panic to percolate through every nerve, you feel like you are losing control, but you don’t mind it. You feel vulnerable, exposed, almost at his mercy at this point. Jealousy isn't a pleasant quality, but his jealousy is combined with modesty and there's even something touching about the filthy words coming out of his mouth. He wants you—and finally, he is not afraid to both tell and show it.

“Ya ne mogu vyrazit', kak sil'no ty menya zavodish'” (I can’t explain to you how much you turn me on) Your lips part and you swallow audibly while he has the most delicious visual of his dick slipping between them, your eyes staring up at him in surprise and that sweet tongue running along the shaft. He surges forward, your face is an inch from his when you breathe out, he breaths in before crossing the final, tiny gap and pressing his lips to yours. It is not a sweet kiss. It is hard, demanding, and possessive, borne out of weeks of pent-up frustration and tension. His mouth is hungry and insistent, his tongue probing your lips, asking for greater intimacy. You grant it, tongues swirling together, yours follow his when it retreats and tasting his in return. When he finally pulls back, he rests his hands on your hips, and stares into your eyes for a minute.

“Tvoy zapakh s uma menya svodit” (your scent drives me crazy)

He speaks without haste, controlling himself so well, yet there is something in his voice, determined and euphoric, resentful and insolently defiant. Passion smolders in his eyes as he traces the line of your clavicle with his index flesh finger, pausing for only a fraction of a second. And then you become aware of all the magnificent silk wrapping around your body, you have the feeling that you might drown in his eyes, his two drops of winter rain. “I would love to make love to you, but not tonight” He studies your face, pleading silently for your approval, searching for the smallest sign, the slightest movement of your brow, the vaguest reddening of your cheeks, the surprise of your eyes. At that moment, your soul clenches as well as your pussy. The hard dick still pressing into you distracts you from replying. You can feel your panties dampening. And your nipples are suddenly incredibly sensitive, aching as they pucker against the material of your dress. Your chest warms, desire winding like a rope around your core. You think you like Bucky this way. A smile shows on your face. This would be invisible to any, but the closest scrutiny—Bucky has noticed it and taken it for his sign. Then he leans forward and presses his lips once more, his sugar roughness, his possessiveness is what you need to finally feel. “What did you do when you went out?” “We had a few drinks. We danced.” you reply, thinking it best to speak the truth at once. His lip quivers slightly, forcing himself to seem calm, but Bucky’s eyes are sparkling irefully, there is no doubt in his expression the full success of your endeavors to make him even more detested. “You danced with him?” he asks, with sudden vivacity. “Well, he is my date” You murmur, trying to smooth away all disquietude on the subject, you sense a physical weakness by the violent, unequal throbbing of your own heart, which beats visibly and audibly under the excess of agitation—but before you can even manage to open your mouth again, his metal fingers grab the front of your gown and pull it until it tears, no matter how beautiful, it was meant for another man—perfect breast on display just for him, his cock pulses at the sight. His touch tickles you on his way up to your boobs, skirting over your ribs before fully cupping them in his palms. “Tony’s rules include no sex in the common areas” “Fuck the rules” he grits out, more animal than you have ever heard from a human. And then he gives you a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet—with the filthy touch of his hands, that unexpected warmth rushes through you. His thumbs run over the hardened peaks, making you moan and his dick is so stiff that he is worried that he might come. “Ty moya” he says coolly. (you are mine)

He leans in, his voice a rumble in your ear. “Moy kotyonok” (my kitten)

Bucky moves, gripping the meat of your thighs before he spins you harshly around and bends you over the counter. Your walls are squelching around nothing as you feel him pull back, murmuring something in Russian, it is sinful—and pleasurable, drawing a muffled whimper from your mouth as you hear him tear apart your panties. You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you hear his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs before pressing his body against yours until every inch of him melds into you one more. Bucky’s metal hand grips your chin and forces your head back while the other closes around your throat as his cock presses against you—chills slide up your spine, arousal sending a shot of adrenaline through your center as you feel pre-cum on your naval. Fuck, he is huge. There is a certain satisfaction in manhandling you into this position, the flesh arm tightens around your nape, holding you close to him.

"How about we make a deal? You wear dresses for me and I take you out on dates?” He rambles against your ear, tongue slipping out to taste you, just a little bit. His cock nudges around your ass cheeks, to your sleek mound until he gasps as he guides his sticky cockhead with his metal hand, gliding through your delicate folds and returning his cold grasp around your chin. He doesn’t say anything as he slips inside you with ease, your wetness sucking him in, making it easy for him to thrust into you until he buries himself to the hilt. “Fuck, you feel good”

Bucky moans quietly as his eyes close, focusing on feeling your cunt wrapping around his dick for the first time. His lips stay silent, but he chatters with his fingertips, with the way his hands hold, the way he fucks you. You want to see his face, but you can only imagine how perfect he looks.

His expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure—breathless, possessed, lost in the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight. Your pussy cradles around his dick as he pounds into you from behind. It is an igniting feeling to have so much control over your body. It is sick and twisted, he has long learned to run from what he feels and wants, that's why he has nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control. And he needs to take control over something for once in his life. You. He has lost control over everything, even the places in his head. When your moans become too loud, his hand closes around your neck, slowly cutting into your skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. His growls erupt from his chest, the primal noise flooding your senses, making your insides clench around his length.

“Come for me, drench my dick”

He whispers, fucking his cock against your cervix. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath as you struggle to breathe. Jealousy…teeth dragging against your skin, living marks. The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. He snarls out gluttonous groans against your skin as you clench and seize, pounding you harder as your body contracts. Pleasure breaks out like a wildfire, reaching around your temples, shooting up and down your spine as his thrusts never falter, his mouth hangs open with bliss, his cock plunging into you with skin-slapping speed and he finally reaches his orgasm, cock spurting a thick dollop of cum with each throb.

Lust is the best of all the deadly sins, you realize as he pulls out and helps you go back on your shaky feet. It all happened too fast. You only wanted a kiss. You push his chest like you want him off of you, but your fingers have Bucky’s shirt clutched in them and he knows you are full of shit. You want him.

“I wish I could say I felt guilty for what I did. I don't.” The timbre of his voice goes into that low register that makes your insides curl in on themselves. You want that tongue to swipe your sex like licking the frosting off a cupcake. It is the sexual chemistry you want more of. It is electric. But guilt sets in. You are feeling torn between your commitment to building a relationship with Vlad while engaging with Bucky, in a way it feels like cheating. A part of you is hoping someone from the team would wake up and catch you, so you wouldn't have to live with this lie. But no one wakes up and in the silence that follows, you understand the nature of your new curse: you are going to get away with it. Your silence hurts him, his mouth tightens. But there are some wounds that he can heal only by deepening them and making them worse. And yet, sometimes facts are no more than pitiful consequences, Bucky knows how the public will perceive you if you are dating the former Winter Soldier. Seeing you standing there unresponsive makes him realize that silence has a sound—he knows that you regret sleeping with him. You are the people's favorite Avenger, the one everyone look up to with admiration and reverence—he is sure that you are thinking about it, but he understands. The blue moons in his eyes are glimmering with an emotion you can’t put his finger on—and he should be sad, but instead, he feels nothing. He feels a lot of nothing these days. He is empty, as if whatever makes him feel and hurt and laugh and love has been surgically removed, leaving him hollowed out like a shell. This is for your happy ever after, Vlad might be a stupid Russian, but he is at the very core of his existence—a real human. He turns around and paces the room, as if he can leave his regret, you, behind. But it cracks you as you see him walk away, leaving you naked like an ugly shadow made by himself. You have mistaken his lust for love. Regret. It turns into anger, into hatred. And where there is anger there is always pain underneath. You eventually come to understand that in harboring the anger, the bitterness and resentment towards Bucky who has hurt you, you are giving the reins of control over to him—maybe It’s time to finally say “yes” to being Vlad’s girlfriend.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader #x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #winter soldier

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malum-forev · 1 year ago

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Second Trimester

Authors Note: Thank you guys soo much for the love you gave this story! Here's part 2!

Part 1: First Trimester

She knew something was up when Bucky insisted on picking her up and driving her to the compound. He rubbed two gloved hands together nervously as she locked up her apartment door.

“You look even more anxious than when we made bean.” She chuckled.

Bucky let out a staggered breath running a hand through his newly short hair. “I’m sorry, m’not trying to make you nervous it’s just- well, I don’t have any family left, biological family that is. And those dorks are kind of my chosen family. Think of this like meeting your in laws- except they’re not your in laws because we’re not dating, they’re Avengers and they kind of think you got pregnant on purpose.”

(Y/n) gulped, suddenly feeling like a knot of spikes parked in the middle of her esophagus. “So much for not trying to make me nervous.”

“Sorry… again.” Bucky shut his eyes for a second. “I’m not great at the talking part- I don’t usually talk this much. I don’t know what’s come over me.”

Once he opened his eyes back up, Bucky was greeted with a smile that melted the tension. He didn’t know how she did it, one soft look from her and all his problems were suddenly gone.

“I like your word vomit.” (Y/n) smiled and without thinking twice, she laced the fingers on her right hand with the ones on his left hand. “You don’t have to be nervous alone, you know. We’re in this together for the next eight months and at least my lifetime. I don’t know how long you’re planning on living, how about we round it up to the next seventy years.”

Bucky’s throat went dry and he tried to keep up with her pace walking. He looked down at their linked hands with widened eyes. It had been years since someone had touched his left hand, let alone do it on purpose and without flinching.

Bucky learned the hard way that some women only wanted to be with him so he could use the vibranium on them, see what it was capable of doing. It all felt so wrong to him, using the arm that was given to him to kill for something other than that. He’d been ashamed of it for so long that he lived life around it. Covering it with a jacket and gloves even in the scorching New York summer. Using his right hand to open doors and help old ladies cross the street, wanting to bring the least amount of attention to his left limb. But in this moment, he didn’t feel discomfort or humiliation; quite the opposite, he felt a calming blooming sensation coming from their joined hands. Like the sun had risen after a long winter and it was casting its warming yellow glow on him.

He straightened his spine and squeezed her hand, being careful to not put too much pressure but making it clear he welcomed the gesture.

An hour later, it was her who needed Bucky’s hand to hold. She was sitting at the end of a long conference table with people she never thought she’d meet staring her down.

Captain America, who’d insisted she call him Steve, sat closest to her with his elbows resting on the table. (Y/n) could see the battle going on in his head by the different wrinkles that showed up on his expressive face. Going from excitement to worry in seconds. Next to him was Natasha, the redhead was surprisingly the most inviting of them all, giving (Y/n) a genuine smile. All the way in the back of the room stood the Falcon, Sam hadn’t said a single word and kept his eyes laser focused on her. Like he was waiting for something to give up the fact that (Y/n) was using Bucky. With his arms crossed over his chest, he leaned on the wall and narrowed his eyes.

Finally, Bucky came back into the room with a glass of water which he placed in front of her.

“Guys, I really wanted you to meet-“

Bucky’s quiet voice was replaced by Sam’s booming tone. “Have you even thought about how this is going to work out?!”

Groans came from both Steve and Nat.

“You promised to behave.” Steve shot daggers at Sam but he just rolled his eyes.

“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” Natasha said. “Before her, we thought it was impossible for people with the super serum to have kids. Think of how this will change the world. They can’t just pass it up.”

“The world,” Sam laughed dryly. “Think about how this is going to change Buck! We can do this, this job, because we have no family except each other. He’ll start pulling his punches and then what? He’ll leave a mission because the kid got sick?”

“That’s enough Sam.” Steve said. “What about Clint? He’s got a family and he got the job done.”

“Have you two even talked about what this relationship is?” Sam waved his hand between Bucky and (Y/n). “Are you two exclusive?”

“Yes.” Said Bucky but at the same time, (Y/n) said: “No.”

Bucky’s neck snapped towards her. “You’re dating? With my kid in there?”

(Y/n)’s brows shot up. “You made it very clear we aren’t dating so yes, I’ve been on a couple of dates.”

“I don’t know how I feel about you dragging my kid on dates with random men.” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and she mimicked his action.

“This baby is as much my kid as it is yours. And until I pop it out, bean’s going to be following me everywhere I go. That means, if I want to go to the movies or dinner and someone asks me out, I’ll do whatever the hell I want.”

Sam’s arms shot up. “See, this is what I’m talking about. They have no idea what they’re doing!”

Natasha rubbed her temples. “How about this, the next time (Y/n) wants to go out on a date, Bucky takes her out. You’re going to start showing any second now and it’s gonna start getting harder and harder to get commitment-phobe guys to go on a date with the lady growing another human.”

(Y/n) nodded her head. “Sounds great to me.”

“Deal. I’ll take you out once a week.” Bucky uncrossed his arms.

“Twice.” (Y/n) shrugged. “I’m cute, a lot of guys wanting to take me out.”

Bucky’s nostrils flared at the thought of other men waiting behind her front door. “Twice, but I get to choose the place at least once.”

“You get to choose the place but I get flowers, once a week.” (Y/n) rested both elbows on the table and stared at Bucky.

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Fine, you’ll get the flowers but I’ll get three vetoes for any of the places you choose.”

(Y/n) brought her right hand closer to him, wanting to shake on the deal before he could back out. “Deal.”

“Deal.” Bucky said with a devious smile. “You need to work on your negotiation skills, dollface. I was already planning on getting you flowers for every date.”

“I would have done the deal for one date a week.” (Y/n) smiled.

---

Bucky knocked three times on her door, exhausted from the night before. He’d been to Romania on a mission and gotten in at around 3 am, gotten up at 8 am and trained the day through. He leaned his head on the door and waited for (Y/n) to open the door.

It had been three weeks since they’d reached the date agreement and he’d only had to cancel once. Bucky was quite proud of that, for someone who’s life had been upside down he was keeping his promise and developing some sort of routine.

Today was his choice of date and in true Bucky fashion, he wanted to stay in. He’d picked up Chinese takeout and wanted to watch another of the thousands of classic movies he’d missed over the decades.

Bucky heard her soft footsteps leading to the door and the lock turning.

“They didn’t have the pork dumplings so I got you shrimp. And since shrimp don’t have a high mercury level, we’re okay to eat it- you know, since doc sai-“

Bucky’s rambling was cut short the second his eyes locked on her body. His ocean blue eyes widened and his jaw went slack. (Y/n) was wearing a white tank top that clung to her body, it had been only a couple of days since they’d seen each other but Bucky felt like it had been a lifetime. His eyes locked on her chest for a couple of seconds, he couldn’t miss the sight of her bigger breasts, but what really caught his eye was the small bump that sticked out.

“Y-you’re pregnant.” Bucky stuttered.

(Y/n) let out a loud laugh as she lead him into her apartment. “I thought you got the memo.” Taking the brown paper bag from his hands.

Bucky shook his head, trying to rearrange his thoughts but all that bubbled around in his brain was the image of her with her hands rubbing the small bump.

“I-I mean. You look pregnant.” Bucky’s eyes shone like the night’s sky, his hands itched to get closer to her, closer to the baby.

(Y/n) took her place on the couch, stretching out her hand to him. Bucky walked slowly, afraid of- he didn’t know what he was afraid of but there was a deep feeling settling in his stomach. When Bucky got closer, he absentmindedly brought forward his left hand before ripping it back and stretching out his right one.

“It’s okay.” (Y/n) whispered, a sweet smile playing on her lips. “Bean loves every part of you.”

Bucky shook his head quickly, extending his right hand closer to her.

(Y/n) sat up, taking both of Bucky’s hands in hers and lightly pulling him down until he was kneeling in between her legs. With a soft touch, she brought his hands to her protruding belly, rubbing small circles on the back of his hand.

“Bean will never be afraid of you.” (Y/n) whispered, bringing one of her hands to the back of his neck, soothing Bucky with her touch.

His eyes filled with burning tears, begging to be let out. Years of being feared, years of being used, it all didn’t matter because it brought him to this exact moment.

No words were spoken because he couldn’t think of words that expressed his feelings. Gratitude, happiness, peace. Instead of saying anything, he unlocked a piece of himself to her. That was the only thing he could do. So, for the next hour they sat in silence, tears falling freely from his eyes as he rubbed her belly softly. Bucky hummed tunes from the 40’s until (Y/n) fell asleep, her back pressed to his chest.

- -

It had been a long day at the compound’s med bay. (Y/n) had been poked and prodded for the better part of two hours and Bucky had been by her side the entire time. He knew better than anyone that being in that situation alone was horrible, a feeling he wouldn’t want anyone to experience let alone the woman carrying his child.

“Are we almost done here?” Bucky said, his words rough and clipped. The doctors around the two of them scattered and nodded, afraid of him. But, (Y/n)? She just laughed.

“They’re just doing their job Buck.” She smiled. “Bean is an incredible scientific accomplishment that they just want to understand. Plus, I would much rather get my blood drawn and have a couple of ultrasounds than what I get done at the OBGYN.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed at the thought of her being even slightly uncomfortable.

“I’ve lost count of the people who’ve shoved their hands up to my cervix.” She laughed, getting up from the chair.

Bucky rubbed tiny circles next to her belly button, loving the way her skin felt in his hands, as they walked out of the med bay.

“Isn’t that Sam?” (Y/n) asked, looking left at the man who’d barely talked to them since they’d decided to have the baby.

“Yeah but I don’t think we should call him ove-“

(Y/n) interrupted him by yelling out Sam’s name and calling him over.

Bucky saw the annoyed state his friend was in the second he walked towards them.

“Hey.” Sam gave them a tight smile.

“I know you don’t trust me,” (Y/n) said. “but just do this time.”

Sam’s eyes furrowed with confusion and it just deepened the second (Y/n) took his hand and brought it to her stomach. What was first hesitation, turned into surprise.

“Is- is that?” Sam asked feeling movement inside her belly.

“That’s bean.” Bucky’s smile took over his face.

“It’s moving.” Sam whispered, taking his other hand and bringing it to her stomach too.

“I know you’re not totally on board with this,” Bucky said. “but you need to trust us. This is the right decision.”

Sam’s wide eyes bounced between the two of them. “I can’t concentrate on anything else but this baby trying to kick its way out of (Y/n)’s stomach. Bean’s going to have my fighting style.”

Both Bucky and (Y/n) smiled at each other, happy that Sam had finally called their baby Bean.

Third Trimester

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour @hallecarey1 @aorifukuzawa @sammyssm @alana4610. @mrsjobarnes

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delicatebarness · 6 months ago

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bring him home | chapter three

Summary: How has it been a whole year already?

Warning: MCU Spoilers. Mentions of Grief. Violence. Knives. Injury.

Word Count: 1376

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A/N: I love Rocket, okay?

The first anniversary of the Snap, the second most difficult day of your life. Standing before the ‘Wall of the Vanished’ in Brooklyn, your eyes locked on a single name that meant everything to you. ‘James “Bucky” Barnes’. His name began to blur as tears welled up in your eyes, every letter was a reminder of the loss you were still struggling to accept.

You woke up that morning with a heavy heart, the weight of the anniversary pressed down on you. As if you remind you of the silence that had followed that day, the city seemed quieter.

The journey to Brooklyn was blurred as your memories of Bucky, his laugh, his smile, his stare, replayed in your mind.

The ‘Wall of the Vanished’ was a structure, a monument of collective grief. Every city and county had built their own, a testament to the billions who had disappeared without a trace. As you approached, others were standing, some in silent reflection, others weeping as their fringers traced the names of their loved ones.

It felt like a punch from The Hulk as you reached Bucky’s name, whispering it under your breath. As if saying it softly enough could somehow bring him home. Reaching out to touch the cold stone, you felt the roughness under your fingertips. You couldn’t believe that a year had passed since your world changed forever.

The memory of his tortured cries haunted your dreams, even into your teenage years. Some years had passed since that harrowing day, and you were not allowed to be trained by him afterward. As time went by, you knew you had to escape. You bided your time with your older sister Natasha, feigning obedience while secretly plotting. You seized the moment as soon as the opportunity arose, slipping through the cracks of their iron grip and disappearing into the shadows.

You managed to build a new life away from their horrors and your past. Living in hiding in a quiet town, trying to blend in. You began to attend a public high school and tried to reclaim something of a normal life. The world now only saw an ordinary girl, but you were always on guard, waiting for them to come.

After a long day at school, you decided to walk home through the park, basking in the setting sun. The air was crisp, and the scent of the spring flowers beginning to bloom provided a fleeting comfort.

You barely noticed a figure approaching as you got lost in thought. It wasn’t until he was right in front of you, that you noticed him.

“Soldat,” you whispered, the name catching in your throat as your heart stopped. He didn’t look different, his hair was the same length as you remembered and his eyes were still that intense blue.

There was no response, he lunged at you with a knife. It grazed your arm as you barely managed to dodge it, indifference over his features.

“Don’t you recognize me, Soldat?” you pleaded, your voice trembling as the memories flashed in your mind, you continued to dodge.

He stared blankly at you while not backing down, his movements were as mechanical as you remembered. Your heart pounded in your chest.

“It’s me, your Spiderling,” you said desperately, hoping to reach the side of him they would try to erase.

For a moment, he paused, his gaze scanned you up and down. You saw a flicker of something in his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. You had grown, and aged since the last time you saw him.

“Liar,” he hissed, his voice was cold and detached.

He began lunging at you again. Summoning all your strength, you accepted that the brief hesitation was all you were going to get. You prepared yourself for the hardest fight in your life. One against him.

His knife came at you again, but this time, you deflected it was a swift motion you learned from him. Knocking the knife out of his hand, his response was immediate; launching a barrage of punches. You countered and dodged, drawing on every bit of training you’d received from him.

“Soldat, please!” you shouted between strikes, testing your hope again. “It’s me!”

He didn’t respond, he was relentless. The initial adrenaline rush you had began to fade as you tired quickly. The sound of HYDRA agents filled the previously deserted park, they were closing in. You could only imagine they were tracking him to ensure he completed his mission. You.

You darted into the woods, him hot on your heels as the agents followed. Their shouts echoed through the trees. The only chance was to lose him in the woods, hoping that his memories of you, however buried, would slow him.

As branches whipped your face, and the ground became uneven, you heard him behind you. And, he was gaining ground. Your small frame began to feel as though it couldn’t go any further, yet a shot rang out. A searing pain rushed from your leg, and you stumbled, falling to the ground.

He was on you in an instant, and fear began to rise within you. Yet, he hesitated again, instead of completing the mission, he looked down at you. Your eyes pleaded with his as you met his gaze.

“You don’t have to do this, please.”

His grip tightened on your arm, his eyes flickering with confusion and pain. The voices from the distance grew louder. A sudden burst of strength came over you, wrenching you free from his grasp. You tried to stand but your injury caused you to collapse once more.

“Finish it!” An agent demanded as they reached you, roughly pulling you to your feet. A piercing scream escaped you as the pain through your arm.

His eyes locked onto yours again, for a moment, you didn’t see the soldier. You saw the same man you did as a child. But then, the cold mask returned. You struggled against the agent as darkness closed in around you.

The last you saw was him being led away in the opposite direction.

When you woke up, you were in a dimly lit room. Bandages covered your wounds, and you recognized the faint hum of medical equipment. Leaning over you, a kind-faced nurse began speaking to you.

“You’re safe now,” she said softly, relief washing over her features as she saw you waking up. “We found you just in time.”

The days quickly turned into weeks as you recovered, the emotional wounds taking longer to heal than the physical. At night, the memories haunted you, the sight of him being taken away scared into your mind.

You had lost him once again.

That evening, back in the quiet solitude of your room, you found yourself surrounded by a blue glow, a small hologram appearing on your table. Natasha had given it to you, as a way to keep in touch with those still fighting. With a deep breath, you accepted it, and a tiny shimmering figure of Rocket appeared.

“Hey, kid,” his voice crackled through the device, his sarcastic tone was surprisingly soothing. “How ya holding up?”

His expression softened as you sat down, the weight of the day continuing to press. “Not great. Saw Buck’s name on one of the walls they built today.”

He let out a small sigh, “Yeah, I guessed it might be a tough day.” he took a moment to pause, no doubt thinking about the family he lost a year ago too. “Look, I know it ain’t much, but we’re out here, doing everything we can to fix it.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, only this time there was a small flicker of hope. “Thanks, Rocket.” you sniffled. “It means a lot to know you’re out there, still.”

“We’ll get them back,” another pause from him. “All of them.” his voice became full of determination. “And, when we do… we’ll all have a big, stupid celebration.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Rocket chuckled. “I might finally get that arm.”

The weight of your grief lifted, for only a moment, replaced by the warmth of Rocket’s humor and the promise of a fight not yet over.

---

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#bring him home series #bring him home #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x romanoff!reader

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anachilles · 7 months ago

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whiskey neat, coffee black 🥃 || ch 1.

aka: firefighter!bucky x bartender!buck (chapt 1), as detailed [here]

“Well, Curt? How do I look? Do I look gorgeous tonight?” Bucky asked, popping the collar of his jacket a bit, then scrubbing his fingers through his hair. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure whether exactly he was trying to tame it into submission or zhuzh it up a little. Curt turned a discerning gaze to him, eyes narrowing as he took a draw from his cigarette, and let the smoke blow out slowly into the cool, crisp autumn air. “Well you did take a shower straight after shift, so I guess you have that goin’ for ya.” As much as it was a rib at Bucky’s expense, it was also well known amongst the firefighters based at Station 100 that those showers never ran even so much as lukewarm. So choosing to brave them, for any reason, rather than going home to wash up was actually indeed a sacrifice worthy of commendation, and that any such reason for doing so was held in very high esteem indeed. A cheeky, knowing sort of smile started to curl at Curt’s lips, the fluorescent light from the bar sign growing closer as they walked towards it illuminating his face in an appropriately devilish red tint. “Seriously though, you look good, don’t worry.”

-> read here on AO3 <-

Bringing up the rear, Hambone took the very last drag he could get from what was left of his own cigarette, before flicking the stub to the ground and promptly stamping it out. “Why the hell does it matter what you look like here?”

Curt’s smirk only widened. “It’s a Thursday night, isn’t it?” It was the sort of smile from his best friend that Bucky’s own lips couldn’t help but mimic, regardless of it being at his own expense.

Confusion lingered on Hambone’s face for a moment before realisation visibly dawned, leaving behind a teasing smirk of his own as he jogged to catch up with the other two men. “Aw, Bucky , you’re still stuck on this?” he goaded, sticking his elbow out to nudge him. “C’mon man, he’s never gonna fuck y-” He didn’t get to finish his point though, when after an extended moment of dangerous stillness, Bucky lunged, getting his arm around Howard’s neck in a light, good-natured headlock.

Some may say he had a point at this stage, but did he really , if he couldn’t even finish it?

Curt whooped with laughter, finally abandoning his own cigarette to the pavement below, running along beside the two of them like he was watching a boxing match, having to take two strides just to match one of Bucky’s own. “No, man! C’mon. Don’t talk about his husband like that! Be respectful, be respectful…”

“Some husband who’s name you don’t even goddamn kn- ” Already slightly breathless as he scrambled to fight back, the rest of his sentence was strangled from his throat as Bucky momentarily tightened his hold. His own smile only grew as Hambone struggled along beside him. With the door finally within touching distance though, he took mercy and released him.

Aptly named by whatever genius had acquired the bar last, The Firehouse had, for time immemorial, been the regular haunt for firefighters based at the local fire station a few blocks over. For all that the guys loved it, were devoted to it, the place was admittedly a bit of a dive. With sticky floors you almost felt bad subjecting the soles of your shoes to, ancient, tattered pool tables that were probably in existence before the fall of the Berlin Wall, and a mere two single-person bathrooms tucked away at the back that ensured massive lines on any busy Friday or Saturday night, it was easy to see why the clientele they did get tended to be the ol’ faithfuls that had been coming for years.

But at the same time, they offered dirt cheap drinks, specials hand-written on the wall that could only have been made so skillfully by cool, but generally part-time, staff who had much more going on in life to give a shit about than their side gig bar job, in an opportune location. There was something comforting about that kind of ambience; a little rough and ready but full of heart and soul underneath the scuff marks. So at the end of the day, it was actually Bucky’s kind of place. None of that really mattered, though, because as soon as he saw him , regardless of how badly the place probably needed a lick of paint, The Firehouse may have found a life-long patron in him.

“It’s called playing the long game, Hambone. And I got plenty of time,” Bucky said as he pushed open the front door, letting the other two men in behind him.

It was odd, the conviction with which he said that. He’d been told enough times in his life, whether by teachers at school, any number of CO’s and higher ups in the Air Force, or even his goddamn parents, that, despite his wide-ranging natural abilities, he was also an impulsively headstrong, trigger-happy son of a bitch. Any such assessments, phrased in any such language, tactful or brutally honest, he’d accepted. Understood it, even, and taken it on the chin. He was a guy who knew his own shortcomings. An inability to wait for what he genuinely, truly wanted however just wasn’t one of them.

“The only thing you’re playing the long-game with is your right hand,” Hambone chipped in once they were inside, all three now enveloped in contrasting warmth from the chill outside and the dim glow of the table-lamps. It was still relatively early and they wouldn’t have been long open, so there weren’t too many people around yet. Hambone smacked Bucky playfully on the arm then, almost in commiseration, his distinctive gold tooth glinting as he asked. “What d’ya want? It’s my round.”

Bucky wasn’t looking at him, though; hadn’t been since the second they stepped through the door. Eyes dead set on the bar, he said “I got this one, guys,” shooing them away to go find a table without even having to say it.

Behind his back, Curt and Hambone glanced at each other, exchanging a quick look of affectionate mocking, before making themselves scarce.

He assumed it would abate by now, if even just a little bit. The velocity of the swoop in his chest to just walking in and seeing him standing there, like he's in the pilot's seat again and his plane's just taken a nosedive. Approaching the otherwise empty stretch of bar, Bucky parked himself directly in front of him, leaning down on the bar top on crossed arms. Behind the bar, he was busying himself counting change from the drawer of the cash register, eyes cast downwards as long elegant fingers work quickly flipping through the crinkly bills, plump lips moving silently, counting in his head.

God, those lips are downright sinful.

He could see him, Bucky knew he could. Waiting patiently, he watched as he finished counting one stack, dropped the pile onto the counter beneath him and fixed them neatly into formation. He slotted them back in the drawer, paused… then started another stack . Bucky’s small, fledgling smile only bloomed further.

He shifted his gaze then, the movement edged with only a hint of reluctance, fixing on the dark-haired man crouched down behind the bar, restocking the fridges.

“Hey, Croz. How’s it going?” Bucky greeted him, the other man’s head snapping round at the sound of his voice. His smile was quick, easy, and he nodded in acknowledgement. The firefighters’ patronage, of which Bucky’d been a part of for just coming up to a year now, was so serious they tended to know all the bartenders by name. Mostly .

“Bucky! Hey, not too bad, actually,” He rushed a little to finish the row of Blue Moon bottles he was on, before fully turning towards him. “Another night in here, so y’know. Same old, same old.”

“How’s Joe?”

Harry, predictably, lit up a little at the mention of Joe, his boyfriend who he’d notoriously never fail to drop into nearly every conversation you had with him, no matter what it was about. From what Bucky had heard of the story, they’d been high school sweethearts and all, then followed each other to college thereafter. It was sweet, he supposed. Not only the idea of finding ‘ your person ’, a concept that had itself long been alien to him, intangible and abstract like the blurry shape of a ship out at sea on a perpetually foggy day, but find that person as young as they had. Of being so sure right off the bat, no more searching required. Sweet, but wholly unrealistic. If it was true and possible for anyone though, it’d be for people like Croz and his Joe.

Knowing the bartenders at their local was one thing, knowing about their partners, their dogs, and their personal lives was another, and wasn’t something Bucky was necessarily accustomed to. On reflection, it wasn’t unwelcome, though now that it had happened.

“He’s great! Yeah, we just found out he actually got into that masters program he applied for, so…” he beamed, before trailing off, like he was almost willing himself to shut up. Bucky was sure then that he wasn't nearly the first person he’d told, probably even today. The pride shone so clearly in his face, Bucky couldn’t help but smile too.

“That’s awesome, Croz. Congrats. Be sure to give him my best.”

Comfortable silence fell between them as Harry half-turned back to continue his work. It turned expectant, though, when it started to occur to him that he hadn’t stopped counting change to take Bucky’s order. “Buck, do you mind? I’m kinda-”

In contrast to his demeanour thus far, his head turned immediately, acknowledging his co-worker with a nod. Like everything around him had been on mute and then someone just suddenly turned up the volume. “Yep, of course.”

Bucky shook his head. ‘Buck’ wasn’t the guy’s real name, evidently, that would’ve just been divine coincidence. He liked to think the whole charade of the ‘refusing to tell Bucky his name’ thing was more a running joke at this point than anything else, but regardless, needs must. For logistical reasons, he simply couldn’t carry on being “Smokeshow Firehouse Bartender” in Bucky’s head, like a dodgy Tinder hookup's contact in his phone, for the rest of the days that they continued encountering each other. And, well, if he wasn’t going to tell him his name, then they might as well share his.

Setting his latest stack back in the register and pushing the door closed, ‘Buck’ finally looked up at Bucky for the first time that night. He wasn’t technically smiling, but his steely blue eyes were alight with a mirth that had pretty much the same effect as if he was.

“You didn’t see me, here? Or hear me?” Bucky chanced, the corner of his lip quirking, like he was laying down a challenge.

Unfortunately, Buck didn’t take the bait. “What’re you having, Bucky?”

Bucky exhaled slowly, taking a moment to once again savour the way the other man’s deep, drawling timbre stretched around the syllables of his name, powerless but to bank yet another superfluous version that’ll inevitably turn up in ongoing late-night fantasies.

“Three PBR’s and three shots of Jameson.”

Buck nodded, whistling low as he moved to set out three pint glasses beside the tap, and got to work pouring the first. “You mean business, tonight.”

“Oh, I always mean business, honey.”

Buck’s eyebrows jumped as he finished one pint, reaching for the next empty glass. “Oh, I’m your honey tonight, am I? What happened to ‘doll’?”

Bucky smirked. That had been the teasing pet name du jour last week, one he’d only had the courage to deploy after a couple of (well, maybe a few) stiff drinks leading up to it. He wasn’t sure if the way Buck’s dutifully placid expression momentarily cracked at the time was more in the realm of scandalised shock, or verging closer to much preferable affectionately exasperated surprise; the edges of his vision had been starting to blur a little by that stage too much to know for sure.

Not blurred enough, however, to miss the delightful pink hue that bled into the other man’s cheeks after he said it. It was exactly what Bucky either needed, or very much didn’t, unwitting or not. Encouragement .

“Oh, you like that one? ‘Doll'?” He paused, giving Buck a chance to jump in, but once again he didn’t bite. Shame. In the end, Bucky easily filled the gap himself, the boldness of the sentiment tempered with casualness. “You know you can be whatever of mine you want to be.”

It was a hard-won, but now easy-as-breathing rhythm they’d settled into, the mindless flirting, the teasing banter, the sort of cat-and-mouse dynamic. It was fun, and they both seemed to enjoy it. He’d even go so far as to call it a friendship of sorts.

Sighing, but visually giving nothing away, Buck flicked his tongue against the trusty, ever-present toothpick resting in the corner of his mouth, avoiding Bucky’s eye as he murmured a seemingly distracted ‘Noted.’ Because he’s a weak, weak man Bucky couldn’t help but follow the movement of his tongue, eyes flicking down and then quickly back up again.

Buck set all three filled pint glasses up onto the bar, and got to work on the shots.

Fingers closing around the neck of the Jameson bottle, he only spoke again as he tipped it up towards the glass. “Hard day, then?”

The question felt like a sharp pivot, and it succeeded in pulling Bucky out of the sort of heady state of mind he’d let himself meander into with the flirting, and the pet names, and the inability for him to look away from his goddamn lips. It somehow didn’t feel like a distraction tactic, though. He asked it quite often; nearly every time he was in, in fact. It was like he genuinely wanted to know, every time he did ask. Suppose that’s why Bucky actually tended to tell him.

He must have paused a beat too long in answering, as that was when Buck’s piercing gaze rose to meet his own. Turns out, he didn’t even really need to properly look at the shot glasses anymore to judge an accurate pour. His eyes, steely blue like a storm at sea, were searching, but his look tinged with a hint of something else uninterpretable.

Well, Bucky’s an open book, and had never been good at beating around the bush. “A whole lot of nothing for the first few hours, but then a couple of RTCs later on. The second one was pretty gnarly; involved a bit of a difficult extraction for one of the passengers. Had to do some unorthodox manoeuvring just to get her out.”

Buck’s face twitched with genuine sympathy, finally finishing up with the drinks. “I’m sorry. Is she going to be okay?”

“I think so. Last we heard she was stable, but in serious condition.” He tried to hold the words at arms length away from himself, though even from there they threatened to weigh on him as he said them. He shook his head against the drag, as if he could shake the weight of the concern off. She was only 17 years old. Physically shrugging, Bucky said, “We got her out of the pretzel the car had been turned into, though, apparently without exacerbating her injuries. So we did our part.”

It could have come off sounding callous to some, he guessed, especially with the slightly forced levity inflected in how he said it, but Buck’s face remained unchanged. Solemn in not quite understanding, but something close. Whatever it was, Bucky felt lighter for being on the receiving end of it; for even being asked about what had gone on at all, even. Which was weird, when he hadn’t even realised he was holding onto anything from earlier in the first place.

“Is it just you and those two out tonight, then?” Buck asked then, after letting them sit in a moment of easy silence, crossing his arms and resting his weight down onto the bar top. So effortlessly cool; so casual. Bucky, on the other hand, felt decidedly less so with those couple extra inches closer Buck’s face now was to his own, leant forward as he was, across the lines of demarcation the line of glasses were serving as. That fuckin’ aftershave…

Trying for somewhere between ‘cool’ and ‘casual’ himself, despite the other man’s signature scent teasingly lingering at the back of his palate, Bucky shrugged. “For now, yeah, we just got off. Douglass might join later, though, I think.”

“Ah…” Buck said, suddenly biting back a smirk. “Everett’s coming in in a couple of hours, on the closing shift.”

Ah , indeed. Because if having one firefighter pathetically lovesick over a bartender at their favourite local place wasn’t enough, their team would have to go and have two, right? The drunken fog-shrouded voice of Chick Harding echoed somewhere in the back of his head then, warning the whole lot of them to 'not shit where you eat’ , or something like that.

Honestly though, Bucky wasn’t overly sure it was definitely love between them, anyway, Dougie and Everett, more than it was flirting by proximity, reinforced by audacious horniness on Doug’s part and a bit of ‘opposites attract’, ‘Lady and the Tramp’ magnetism. See, from what Bucky had gathered, whether through gossip, or stories, or even just in the man’s eloquently rounded syllables, Everett Blakely came from the nice side of town. And, well… he loved the guy dearly, often trusted him with his life, but regardless of what side of the tracks he was from, Dougie could be a bit of a dog. Coming from Bucky , too, that’s saying something. But there was definitely something , and the more Everett gave Douglass the run around, held him off before reeling him back in again, the more obsessed he seemed to get. It was kind of fascinating to watch.

Not that Bucky could relate, or anything.

“Ah…” he mimicked Buck’s tone, eyes narrowed in knowing, pulling on the thread of the other man’s amusement, desperate to see it unravel further. “And what exactly has that got to do with anything?”

Buck shrugged, holding his hands up, as if protesting his innocence. “Just making conversation.” He smiled at him then like they were conspiring, eyes alight with a glint of mischief, and Bucky felt success warm in the pit of his stomach like a downed whiskey shot. “...but you didn’t hear it from me.”

Wrenching his attention from the man in front of him, Bucky pulled out his phone. In a rather uncharacteristic turn of events, Douglass had seemed to be on the fence about coming out to meet them in his last message to the station group chat, causing genuine worry among the ranks that he was seriously ill. Or abducted. Or both.

Bucky 🔥 : ‘We’re at FH now. Top secret intel says Everett’s working the closer’ was all Bucky had to say, not even trying to pretend he wasn’t obviously meddling, followed not 30 seconds later by a ringing chime and Douglass’s reply. Dougie: ‘Give me 30 mins’ Benny 🐺 : ‘This is what it looks like to have 0 dignity, btw’ Hambone: 🐕🚶 Benny 🐺 : ‘I wonder who’s who’

Bucky scoffed out a laugh, turning his phone to show Buck the chat log, and the other man rolled his eyes through the remnants of a smile.

“Knew that’d get him off his ass…” Bucky trailed off, his focus stolen momentarily by the open chat as he turned his phone back around, just in the nick of time, as a new message pinged through.

Veal: ‘Isn’t Thursday supposed to be Buck’s night closing? Surprised you’re not off sulking in a corner somewhere @Bucky’

And then another.

Benny 🐺: ‘Tell me you boys have at least bought the man a drink to drown his sorrows in @Curtyyy @Hambone’

And then …

Curtyyy 😝 : ‘he’s been up at the bar for 15 minutes now and this place is a ghost town. you do the math on whether buck’s here or not’ Curtyyy 😝 : ‘we’re thiiiiirsty’

Confronted with the reminder that he had actually come here for some other purpose than to stand at the bar and flirt with Buck, the conspiratorial intimacy of the moment started to dissipate into the air around them with each jibe, remiss as Bucky was to let it go. Even more so when Curt materialised as if from nowhere by his side, summoned solely from Bucky’s acknowledgement of his text, silent and unannounced as the goddamn grim reaper. Had he always been that light-footed?

“Don’t mind me, fellas, if I can just… take these off your hands…” Curt said, leaning impatiently around Bucky and, rather skilfully, managing to pick up two of the pints and two of the shots all in the one claw-like grip. It was actually rather impressive, clearly the result of extensive practice. Even Buck looked impressed with the manoeuvre. Not even slightly bashful, Curt smiled up at him.

“Thank you, Bucky, ‘ppreciate it. And don’t worry, I’ve been keeping your seat warm for ya, for whenever you decide to use it.”

He should’ve probably had the decency to look abashed, it pointed out just how long he was very clearly deliberately taking, but couldn’t quite manage it. With a roguish smirk, he let his eyes flick from Curt’s retreating form to Buck’s gaze, holding it steadily.

“Suppose I should let you get back to whatever you were doing,” he acceded, a whisper of a challenge, or maybe an appeal, to give him a reason to stay. It didn’t come, though, and all he got was a nod from the other man as he pushed himself back up off the bar, just that little bit extra further away once more.

After a beat, and a sigh steeped in playful resignation, Bucky downed his shot, then picked up the remaining pint. The trail of fire the whiskey mapped out from his throat all the way down to his stomach was familiarly pleasant, and he took a moment to savour the burn. Let it give him the tailwind to convey his thanks, and turn to follow Curt back to their table.

“Hey, John,” Buck’s voice carried from behind him, probably as raised from its mellow tone as he’d ever heard it, emanating from the backdrop of some pretentious indie playlist Bucky would bet any money is Buck’s own, and the dull chatter of the sparse crop of patrons around them. His head snapped around embarrassingly quick, to find the other man with his toothpick now in hand, biting the inner corner of his lip against a smile.

“You forget something?”

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched in confusion.

“Look, I know you boys are regulars, and we trust y’all, but I do have to insist you at least open a tab.”

Fuck . He’d been jonesing so damn hard for that conversation, had let himself get so caught up in the current of it, that he’d tried to rob the place. Turning swiftly back, already his wallet half-pulled out by the time he got to the bar, now he did at least have the humility to look apologetic. Buck was trying to look stern, head tilted and his pretty features all set and serious, and the urge to giggle tickled at the bottom of Bucky’s chest.

Shit, he’d always had a bad habit of laughing when he got in trouble and was having to face the music. Whether that was staring in the faces of unimpressed school teachers, disapproving parents, or stringent superiors who maybe (definitely) either didn’t get, or just straight up didn’t appreciate his sense of humour much. He couldn’t help it, he’d always giggle, even when he actually gave a shit about what he’d done wrong.

Cheeks flushed, he handed over his card to start a tab, before dipping back into his wallet for a couple of spare bills, holding them aloft for Buck to take as a tip.

Examining them in his hand, the joviality hardened in Buck’s expression. “This is too much. Take one of these back,” he insisted, holding it out, but Bucky had already sprang back a couple of steps. Well out of reach, but nearly tripping over a nearby chair in the process.

“No! No, I tried to stiff you, so fair’s fair,” he laughed, even more so at Buck’s silently protracted, long-suffering look. Truly only he could manage to have a stick up his ass about someone trying to give him money, which he was still holding like it was going to grow sentience and take a bite out of his hand any minute.

“Anyway,” Bucky continued, “Consider it partly for that tip about Everett earlier, for helping us get Douglass out. A tip for a tip, if you will.”

"Who’s tip for what tip?”

Both of them whipped round in the direction of the voice, timed perfectly in the sudden silence between songs so it broadcasted crystal clear to everyone in the joint. Crosby wore an innocent enough look, hands full with a box of lemons ready to be sliced.

Not so innocent were those of Curt and Howard over in the corner, both with eyes like saucers, who’d overheard the whole thing.

“Who’s tip are we talkin’ about?!”

#clegan #buck x bucky #john bucky egan #gale buck cleven #masters of the air #AH I WROTE IT #and i have a lot planned so yay!#my roman empire atm #my writing #📝: firehouse!au

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cosmos-coma · 2 years ago

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Metal's Delicate Touch - Part 1

A/N: Hello! I'm branching out into another Fandom! Likely its just gonna be for this one character, but I'm excited to share another character I'm passionate about!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: Blood and injury (Nothing terrible), Hurt reader, Reader gets mugged, I think that's all? let me know if I missed.

Summary: Bucky saves you from a mugging gone bad and is instantly pulled in by your warmth and compassion

_________________________

A roughened hand clamped itself over your mouth as grubby fingers rifled through your pockets.“When I asked you to stop, you really should have just stopped, sweetheart.” Your mugger spat as his number two pocketed everything you had on you.

These two men had followed you around the market for a while then towards your shitty little hostel. Eventually, they called out for you, chasing and cornering you in a blocked-off alley after you tried to run.

You had made to scream out for help, but your mugger immediately pulled out a gun from his heavy jacket, fitted with a silencer and everything.

They were not messing around.

As you struggled against the hands of your assailants you spotted a man walking past the occupied alley. His shoulders were broad and strong, evident even through his leather jacket. His shoulder-length hair and his baseball cap covered most of his profile, which was pulled down low in an obvious show of ‘don’t fucking talk to me’.

But you had no choice.

You bit down hard on the hand covering your mouth, blood instantly hitting your tongue. You did your best not to gag on the vile taste and screamed as soon as the hand pulled away. “Help me! Please! Hel-” and you were cut off as his hand clamped over your mouth once again.

“You little fucking bitch-” He seethed, pressing the gun against your thigh and pulling the trigger, the sound cushioned by both the silencer and your soft flesh that even you barely heard it over your heartbeat. Though muffled by his hand, your scream strained your throat with all its ferocity and pain. Tears welled in your eyes as your brain swam with newly radiating pain, but your eyes still searched for the man in the baseball hat.

You struggled to keep your bleary eyes open and your heart fell when you no longer saw him. Did he leave? Did he even hear you?

Heavy tears fell as your eyes screwed shut and another wave of pain like malevolent electricity ran through your limbs as you tried to shift your weight under their grasp.

“Hey-” Was all you heard your mugger say as his weight was thrown away from you. A resounding THUD bounced off the walls as his body did just the same. Brick bit against your skin as you slid along the wall to the ground, your single good leg no longer having the energy to support you.

More thuds and grunts came from the space before you and as you peeked open your eyes you saw the man in a baseball cap beating the shit out of your assailants. His punches were sharp and skilled, and his entire demeanor seemed glazed over as he got lost in the blood and grunts.

“That’s enough..! That's fine..!” you yelled, not wanting to see their deaths, and his whole disposition changed in an instant. His square shoulders softened at the edges and his fists loosened as he turned to face you. You had never seen two men run so fast as your muggers did when they saw him distracted, turning their bruised and bloody tails as they ran.

His face was mostly shadowed as he scooped up your stolen items, though his eyes just shone through the darkness, promising the most striking gaze you had ever seen.

He extended a hand to you wordlessly as he approached, an invitation for his further help and you were glad to take it.

You griped his hand tight and started pulling yourself to your feet, “Thank you so much, I- Ah..! Fuck, Fuck hold on…” you loosened your grip on his hand, dropping back to the ground. Your hands instantly went to your leg wound, feeling the hot blood that had seeped out as you strained to stand.

“I- I don’t think I can stand on my own. I’m sorry, um… I’ll figure something out.” You glanced at your surroundings, trying desperately to come up with a good solution. Your knight in a baseball cap watched you quietly for a moment before he reached down to you again, both arms this time as he effortlessly scooped you up bridal style.

“Oh..!” you gasped in surprise but held tight to him with your arms around his neck. “Thank you… You can just drop me at any hospital and I’ll greatly appreciate it. I don’t wanna be a bother,” you offered. His grip on you tightened as you suggested he dropped you off, as you suggested that he leave you.

He couldn't put a word on exactly what it was that made his stomach lurch at the thought of dropping you off with a bunch of strangers. Strangers who would undoubtedly hurt you and ruin the fine but subtle scent you gave off. It was your scent of damp moss and sweet gardenias which made his heart feel a softness he feels he knew only in another lifetime.

Your slight wince drew him out of his deep well of thought and he quickly loosened the grip of his ungloved hand which was squeezing far too close to your open wound.

Despite his prominent objections, you could only get a low grunt out of him as he shook his head and continued his steadfast journey. “Can I at least know where we’re going then?” you asked, being met with even less of a reply.

The journey was quiet as he carried you to an old apartment building, your arms resting comfortably around his neck as he carried you up the winding stairwell and into a small apartment.

It was rather bare for the most part, with only the necessities and no items to show comfort or leisure- only survival. Your eyes bounced around from object to object, a book or two, simple cookware, and a couple of small guns. The last of which should have given you more pause, but you figure if he wanted you dead, he’d have left the other guys do it- so it must be for protection.

“Do you have a name? I’m not really fond of joining men in their apartments without at least knowing their name first.” You mused as he set you down on the all-too-firm bed, the faintest wince of discomfort as the foreign object in your leg moved with you.

At first, you weren't sure if he heard you as his attention immediately became consumed by searching around the apartment. You waited a few moments before you asked again. “I’d rather not just call you ‘handsome stranger’ for the rest of our time.” you laughed awkwardly, trying to lighten the intense mood that seemed to cling to this man no matter what. “Is there something I can call you-”

“They...” his first hints at a spoken word had you immediately silenced, desperate to hear if his voice matched the brooding exterior he put off. He came back with a white box, setting it down beside you before he pulled his hat off. His blue eyes were just as striking as promised and searched your face for something neither of you could name.

“They… They called me James once.” his voice rumbled out, raspy and quiet from its limited use. The vibrations of his husky voice put you at ease, despite his intense stare which you found yourself quickly growing accustomed to.

A small smile grew on your face as you introduced yourself, “Well thank you for saving my life, James.” Something drew you to reach out for him, just for the lightest touch, the gentlest graze- but when his whole body flinched back you quickly withdrew your hand. “I’m sorry, I-”

“No.” He quickly interjected, those vibrant blues locking with your eyes, “Don’t apologize.”His weight shifted a bit- as if he was trying to hold everything in in your presence.

“And don't thank me yet-” He started as he opened up the white box, only now noticing that one of his hands was hidden away in a leather glove. Medical tweezers, alcohol pads, stitches- almost every possible at-home medical instrument you could think of was stocked into this kit. “-the bullet still needs to come out.”

Oh fuck. You had almost let yourself forget about the bullet still lodged in your leg and the blood that still slowly seeped out over your pants. “Fuck… okay.” you nodded, understanding exactly what he needed from you.

His eyes watched with a growing hunger that he quickly fought down as you tried to shimmy out of your pants- eventually resorting to asking him for help. A buzz ran over his skin as he made that first contact- calloused fingertips pressing against the supple skin of your upper thighs and dragging slowly down the length of your legs.

With little hesitance, he knelt down between your spread legs, his shoulder to you as he lined himself up for the best angle. His gloved hand gripped behind your knee to hold you in place and inadvertently sent a jolt straight to your core.

‘Not now’ you shunned your body.

“Bite this.” He instructed and handed you the cap he had just been wearing.

“What’s this fo-AH!” You yelped out, immediately bitting down on the brim of the hat, as the long medical tweezers he had dug around your flesh for the bullet in question. You did your best to keep quiet, not wanting to alert the neighbors but it was hard.

Your whimpers echoed around the room to him, bouncing from the wall to his ears in an endless pained cycle. “James, wait- please… I need a break,” you begged as your hands, tense and desperate for something to hold, naturally found their place in his hair.

You didn’t have the mind about you to notice the way he flinched when your fingers touched him, nor the way he softened soon after he realized how gentle you were still trying to be. Even with your immense pain you didn’t jerk his head back or dig your nails into his scalp- no, you tugged and clenched your fingers around his long hair, but still never had the heart to hurt him.

Practiced hands eventually pulled the crushed metal out with a disgusting squelch. A relieved and breathy sigh passed by your parted lips as it was finally done and your hands came away from him.

“Good girl…” he spoke it quietly, just enough for you to hear and for it to stop your heart for what felt like minutes, stirring you once again. He took surprising care and delicacy as he continued to clean and wrap your leg until you were fully taken care of.

With a grunt you carefully rose to your feet, hobbling around the apartment as you tested out your leg- you could barely put any weight on it, but it would do for now. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough… “ you said as you watched him pack everything away again.

“Well, you could… stay?” His voice came quietly as if he was almost ashamed to ask you for so much, but he needed this- needed you. “At least until your leg is healed…” he urged, hoping you’d at least agree to baby steps with him.

“I…” you started, searching his face carefully, trying to read each and every crease, though you were no expert- not like he was. However, what you did catch was the evident yearning. Innocent and true, the way a child yearns for their crush to sit next to them at lunch. It was a look behind his eyes that said ‘I can’t be alone now that I’ve found you’.

You could use the help as you healed… and your hostel was far worse than this. Something about the firm but gentle way he held you surrounded you with a sense of safety you’d rather not give up so easily. Not to mention those handsome eyes that made your heart flutter in your chest.

“I’ll stay” you nodded, smiling a bit at the way his lips just curled up at the ends, the most emotion you had seen from him yet.

He didn’t let you hobble for very long before he was urging you to sit down and rest. You obliged but still did your best to stay close, sitting on the counter as dinner was made and stealing bites here and there. You smiled at the way he relentlessly shooed you away each time, eventually resorting to gently thwapping your hand with the sauce-laden spoon.

His smile grew as you licked the sauce off your hand and hummed along to the jovial beat the radio sang, your fingers still searching for more bites to steal. Your warmth seemed to light up the entire room as you simply existed beside him and he could feel even the shadiest corners of himself become a little easier to look into.

After dinner, your body was begging you to sleep after its incredibly long say and you weren’t one to deny it. Instantly you were out like a light, Your sleeping form sprawled out on your side of the thin mattress.

Bucky watched your chest rise and fall evenly as you let out slow puffs of breath. Your shirt had ridden up to expose your soft belly and the gentle curve of your hips. Your underwear was the only true cover your lower half had, the bandages having bunched and protested as you tried to re-dress.

He knelt beside you, eyes transfixed on the little signs of life you gave out. The breaths, the tiny movements against the sheets, and the steady beat of your heart all came together to form a melody unlike that of any other.

He peeled off the glove from his metal hand and reached out slowly, hesitantly, until his fingers just barely grazed your lower stomach. You let out a short quick gasp as the cold metal made itself known on your skin, causing him to instantly flinch backward.

When you settled and didn’t stir any further he knew it was safe to go in again. His touch was a little more confident as he ran his fingers from stomach to hip, loving the way your soft flesh bowed to his touch.

His heart swelled in his chest as you let out a gentle huff, your hand coming to rest over his as you shifted in your sleep. Racing heartbeats rushed passed his ears, the only sensation he could take in besides the sleepy expression on your lips. Patiently he worked his way out of your grip, making sure not to disturb your sleep.

And with that, a sense of purpose returned to him that day- a lifelong mission if you will- to ensure you would never lose such peace again.

_____________________

Taglist: @writingmysanity (thanks for always supporting me dear!)

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tea-stained-notes · 3 months ago

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Steve Rogers x OFC - Waiting On a Miracle, Chapter 6

After catching an infamous serial killer in the act, Julie Castillo is in line for the witness protection program. She is sent to a temporary safe house with U.S. Marshal Steve Rogers to protect her. Both of them scarred by trauma and tragedy, they find solace in each other. But how far will they dare to go?

Jesus fucking Christ, how has it been EIGHT months since I updated this story?! I swear, I have no idea why it's been taking me so incredibly long to get these chapters out 🙈 Anyway, I do have the remaining ones mostly finished, so I'm hoping to post them all soon - but with this bitch you just never know lol

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

Series warnings: violence, death, angst, trauma, smut

Chapter warnings: violence and death (non-explicit), anxiety, trauma

Chapter word count: ~1850

Song(s) referenced: All I Ask of You (The Phantom of the Opera), The Point of No Return (The Phantom of the Opera)

Another minute passed before Steve had composed himself enough to speak again. “I grew up with two best friends. Bucky and Sam. We were like brothers, getting up to all sorts of mischief around school and the neighborhood.” “You and mischief?” I said with a small smile. “I know, Nat wouldn’t have recognized me.” I was relieved at the faint chuckle that escaped him. “We all had older siblings. Bucky and I had a sister each, Sam had two brothers. And at some point they all got entangled in this Uptown gang.” “The Outfit?” “God no. I mean, sure, every gang in Chicago is somewhat tied to the mob. But no, they were doing their own thing. And some of it was fun, I guess. But at some point our siblings wanted out.” Fresh tears formed in his eyes and I tightened the grip on his hands. He swallowed heavily. “One of Sam’s brothers was the only one who made it out alive. His legs so crippled he’s still in a wheelchair.” My mouth fell open. “And the others… Your sister?” He shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Sam and Bucky vowed to make them pay,” he rasps. “We were just kids at the time, around fourteen. But they made a pact and kept it. Both became cops, worked their way up fast, focused on street gangs. The one that had taken our siblings had grown exponentially, so they managed to get an undercover mission approved. They wanted to destroy them from the inside out.” “What about you?” I whispered. “I was still helping out at my parents’ business. A small hardware store. I’d thought about joining the guys but it would have killed my mom and dad to watch me walk into that hellhole every single day. We’d never gotten justice for Jackie and the others. They made me promise, they—“ He stifled another sob and I thought my heart might burst out of my chest at his pain. “The guys did well for a while. Gathered intel and planned a massive raid. Then a mole in the force blew their cover and…” Steve’s voice broke as a new fit of weeping overcame him. Without thinking I let go of his hands to pull him into a tight embrace, my fingers running soothingly through his hair. I had begun crying along with him, barely able to breathe “I’m so sorry” into his ear. He clutched me like a life raft.

After a few minutes he pulled back, exhaustion etched into his features. “I moved to New York a few weeks later,” he continued softly. “I trained as a cop and then marshal to… make up for failing my friends, I suppose. By protecting others in need. By putting their safety above mine.” “That sounds trying.” I only just noticed that my fingers had started drawing patterns on his arm. I could no longer stop touching him. “It’s worth it.” The small smile barely reached his red-rimmed eyes. I wondered how often he had to tell himself that. “Thank you for trusting me with your story.” His eyes shone warmly as he recognized the echo of his own words from a few days ago. “Thank you for listening.” I forcefully pulled myself away from him. For the fraction of a second it seemed like his hands wanted to chase after me. Ignoring the flutter in my stomach, I pushed myself to my feet. “I’m gonna get started on dinner. How about you pick a movie from our brand new collection? And yes it can be Beauty and the Beast.” He chuckled quietly and I cherished the sound, smiling myself before ambling into the kitchen.

When the credits started rolling I stretched and yawned languidly before turning off the TV. Steve had fallen asleep on his side of the couch, snuggled up in a blanket and perfectly relaxed. I couldn’t help staring at him. The glowing remnants of the fire colored him in shades of gold, smoothing his peaceful features even further. Just looking at him made me weak. It felt like he had snuck into the most secluded corners of my heart and the thought of having to say goodbye any day now was getting more and more unbearable. I had no idea what could become of this, of us. All I knew was that I had never felt this close to anyone. Suddenly his breathing changed, growing erratic and labored. His brows furrowed and he pressed out desperate pleas under his breath. “No, please no. Please. Stop!” For the second time today my heart leapt into my throat at the tortured sight of him. “Steve,” I said softly. “It’s okay, wake up.” But his imploration only grew louder as he started thrashing around, caught in the blanket still wrapped around him. He was panting hard now. I leaned forward to grab his shoulder. “Steve. Steven!” His eyes flew open and his hand immediately closed around my wrist, ripping it away from his body as his torso shot up. I ignored the pain and tried to catch his gaze instead. “Steve, it’s me. You’re okay, you’re safe.” His entire body froze while his eyes slowly focused on my face. He drew back his hand as if burned. “Julie. God, I— I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?” “I’m fine. Just breathe.” I slowly reached out to him again, closing my fingers around his and he intertwined them without a second of hesitation. A quiet warmth ran through me. His breathing grew more even, his eyes focussing on something in the middle-distance. “Would you like some tea?” Now that I finally got to return the offer he had so often made me during my tortured nights, I realized with a pang in my chest that I had been too blinded by my own pain to truly see the one in him. “Yeah, thanks.

A few minutes later I sat back down with two steaming mugs, offering one to him. Steve smiled gratefully. We sat in silence for a while. “Did you dream about what you told me earlier?” I whispered eventually. He nodded. “I’m sorry if I brought that back up to the surface, I didn’t mean—“ “I get these nightmares all the time, it’s not your fault. Years of therapy and it all still haunts me.” He took a careful sip. “Yeah, the pain of losing someone you loved never really goes away. For me it’s this burning I get in the pit of my stomach whenever something reminds me of her.” “For me it’s here.” Steve rubbed across his chest. I nodded thoughtfully. “You know, whenever I had nightmares as a child my mom would sing to me.” “Of course she would,” he said with a tender smile. “What songs?” “Anything she could think of. Anything I wished for. But a favorite of ours was All I Ask of You from Phantom of the Opera.” “Will you sing that for me?” “Do you know it?” “Not really. I saw the show once but it struck me as… ” “Highly problematic?” We both grinned. “Yeah.” “God, it is. Even this song is, quite frankly. All these patronizing men pretending they know best what Christine needs when they all just want to own her. But some of the melodies and lyrics are still stunning.” “So will you?” He looked at me with gentle expectation, taking another long drink from his tea. I did the same, then set my mug down on the table. Although I had sung quite a few pieces for him, nervousness still crept into my veins. This felt different. Was different.

“No more talk of darkness. Forget these wide-eyed fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you.” My heart began glowing at the memory of my mother’s voice and the mesmerized look on Steve’s face. “Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you.” I hesitated before Christine’s first line. Fire swept across my skin as the words crept up on me and I couldn’t tear my gaze from his as I shifted into the higher notes. “Say you love me every waking moment. Turn my head with talk of summertime. Say you need me with you now and always. Promise me that all you say is true. That's all I ask of you.” I swallowed heavily, then pressed out a nervous chuckle. “God, this song is so cheesy.” “What’s musical theatre without a bit of cheese?” replied Steve. A grin was spread across his cheeks but there was something in his eyes that betrayed his ease. I cleared my throat, then nearly stumbled over my words. “Actually though there’s this one bit that’s really heartbreaking. Raoul sings ‘Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude. Say you need me with you here, beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too. Christine, that's all I ask of you.’” I found myself gesticulating wildly, heat rising in my neck. “Yes, cheesy, but do you remember how the phantom eavesdrops on their duet and then in the penultimate number, The Point of No Return, repeats those same lines? And it really depends on who plays Eric, but Ramin Karimloo for instance does this so beautifully. I mean, he’s still a deeply disturbed man of course, but God, when he sings those lines you truly feel for him, it just breaks me every single time.” Steve just stared at me for a moment. “Sorry,” I mumbled, “I got carried away again.” “No, I love it when you get so passionate,” he said gently. “And I remember that scene, it was… quite something.” His eyes wandered over my face, briefly landing on my lips before he dragged them back up. The air between us was so charged, I could almost hear a sizzling through the blood rushing in my ears. Suddenly my entire body was screaming his name, forcing me forward, closer to him. My hand reached out to cup his cheek and a small sigh escaped him at the contact. His empty mug clattered onto the floor as he mirrored my gesture and pulled me close. With our foreheads pressed together, we shared a shaky breath. And just when I thought my heart might burst out of my chest with anticipation — he drew back. “I can't. We can't. I can't be distracted.” He closed his eyes, his brow creased in restraint. “I'd never forgive myself if my negligence got you hurt. Or worse.” Tears were pricking at my eyes. I yearned for him more than I had ever thought possible. “And what if you did everything right but something still happened to you or me?” “Julie—” “Would you regret not giving this a chance when you could?” His gaze locked onto mine. Intense and tormented. Then he briskly rose to his feet. “We should go to sleep. Good night.” He hurried out of the room while I just sat there, shell-shocked, my eyes still fixed on the empty space he had left behind.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

MASTERLIST

Tag List: @multifanworld @peguem-o-pombo-agora @cvanstagram @yslvtre @wandasrogers @littleredone88 @before-we-get-started @sophham @missaprilt23 @chrissusmissus @dvmb-whxre @daddydraco0 @quicksilversthings @thechoosenonecreator @rosellia-hudsons @lokirogersgirl @nekoannie-chan @readawaythereality2 @yal1d @hyperfixationhovel

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #soft steve rogers #broadway #musical theatre

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years ago

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The Stark Legacy (6)

Memorial, part of Book 1: Reality (see previous or series)

Summary: The anniversary of Pepper's accident puts pressure on Tony to return to real life.

Warnings: grief, bad coping, Tony thinks he knows best but doesn't. Rated Teen/Mature, so 15+ only, please!

CHAPTER SIX—May 2036

Tony adjusted his suit as he stepped out of the limousine. He made no acknowledgment of the press and flashing lights; this was not that kind of occasion. He shook hands with the mayor, the governor, and the landscape architect. Natasha, Bruce, Wanda, and Bucky followed, all filing behind a nervous intern leading them to the platform set up on the grounds for the ceremony. Maria Hill was already behind the podium onstage. She began as everyone took their places.

“Good afternoon. Thank you all for coming today as we officially open the Memorial Garden on this, the eleventh anniversary of the tragic explosion on this very spot. We are here to honor the lives of the sixty-eight men and women who perished, and to celebrate the beauty of the natural world that continues on for those left behind after this devastating accident—,” Maria read from her papers, head lowered.

Tony met Happy Hogan’s eye from the security chief’s position off-stage. Happy gave the slightest nod, gently tapping at his royal blue pocket square: Pepper’s color. Tony faced front again, sniffed, and pushed up his sunglasses. He shifted his stance and returned both hands to his pockets, touching his thumb to the ring he still wore on his finger. The sky was not quite the right blue, and it was too hot, Tony noted.

“—And now Tony Stark will say a few words,” Maria said, gliding out of his way to approach the podium.

Tony looked at the microphone like it was a cobra. He had only planned a sentence or two, neither of which he could recall now, but in true fashion, he stepped forward and cleared his throat. “First, I’d like to thank all of the gardeners and landscapers, the contractors and builders who put together this…beautiful space. I’d particularly like to mention the architect, Daniel Toshirushi, whose uncle also died in the facility’s explosion—“ He forgot he wasn’t supposed to explicitly associate the accident with the Avengers. “—he worked tirelessly to never ask me a single question about the layout or details.” There was a small, rolling chuckle within the crowd. That should mull over his misstep.

The wind blew in the smell of flowers, making Tony pause in recognition of one in particular. What little idea he had of what he should say was blown away. “Except I did tell him to put daisies in because that’s what Pepper told me to do. Those are her favorite…” He heard his mistake. “Were her favorite,” he corrected. “It’s what she would have wanted.” He could feel Wanda’s stare boring holes in the back of his head. “Pepper also used to tell me not to wing my speeches.” Another smaller laugh. Tony looked down at his hands on the podium, his wedding band perfectly polished, golden like his late wife’s hair. “I should have listened.”

There was a stalled moment where Tony looked back out at the audience. His eyes found Steve Rogers and Sharon easily enough in the front. Steve gave the same small nod as Happy, and Sharon gave a press-lipped smile of encouragement. They were holding hands.

Tony took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “When we lose someone, as we all have and we all will, we are left with pieces of their lives, things they loved. Those little reminders are often painful as the…smell of daisies is to me, but they are beautiful. So thank you to everyone for this wonderful…tribute.” Tony pinched his nose, sniffing, and adjusting his sunglasses again. “We are deeply moved by the good work of all those involved with this project.”

He could not move away from the microphone fast enough, descending from the platform stage as Maria Hill scrambled to move the proceedings on to the unveiling of the memorial plaques. She began reading the names of the deceased. For those with military service records, Captain Barnes was charged with firing a blank. Maria paused between those last twelve names. Bucky propped the muzzle of his weapon against the rim of the vibranium shield, allowing a short, clear ring to accompany each shot.

Tony settled for standing beside Happy.

“Short and sweet, sir,” his old friend said softly.

It made Tony more agitated than he expected. Normally, any praise of such a botched address was a standard jab from Happy. Today lacked Tony’s comfortable sarcasm, and also lacked someone else. “Where is she?”

“Sir?”

“Sam. Where’s the kid?”

“I thought Clint talked to you.” Happy grew a noticeable shade paler. “Think it was supposed to be good news for…another time, but Sam’s gonna study at Harvard. Apparently,” he trailed hesitantly, “boarding school was not her first choice.”

Tony barely heard him. He looked around, scanning for Wanda. He dreaded the conversation coming. “Are we done here? Cause I’m gonna—” He gestured to leave.

Happy seemed a little shocked. “There’s a walk-through photo op—“

“Photoshop me in,” Tony said. “Have Yates pull the car around.” He was lucky the crowd was too busy applauding the tribute to catch him slipping away. His chest was getting tighter, his breathing hard to control.

He slid into the car, a false sense of safety dying when Wanda slid in right behind him.

“Don’t start,” he demanded, loosening his tie.

“What was that?” Wanda shrieked, spreading her arms between seats to corner Tony inside the vast space of the limo. ”Tony?!”

“Seriously, not today.” He tried to look out the window.

“Tony, tell me you know the difference,” Wanda pleaded. “When did you discuss flowers with Pepper?”

“Over coffee one morning,” he replied, attempting to sound as casual as possible.

“What morning? What year?”

“I don’t know. The one where we drank coffee!”

“How old was Sam? Was it before she was born or after?”

“I don’t remember, okay? Please back off.” Tony put up a hand to encourage her to sit down on their ride home.

Wanda sat back and crossed her arms. For nearly a decade, she had put Tony under her power’s influence to imagine his best times with Pepper. She thought it would help him heal. It was cathartic at first: she heard sobs from his room as the illusions wore off, but he always emerged focused and balanced. It kept him working instead of ruminating for weeks on end. There had been months when the team was so entrenched in a fight and its aftermath that he wouldn’t ask, but recently it had gotten especially bad. The tense he used to speak about her, rare as that was, was present tense. Wanda thought that he might not be remembering anymore but making up new experiences with his dead wife. The line had been crossed for her.

“That’s it, Tony,” Wanda declared. “I won’t do this anymore.”

Tony felt the bottom of his stomach fall out. “You can’t do that.”

“You don’t remember what’s real anymore. She’s not here. Pepper is dead and the dreams I give you can’t change that. This has gone on long enough.”

“I know what’s real,” Tony insisted, “and I know she’s gone.”

Wanda changed her tone to soothe him. “I don’t believe this is helping anymore, and I’m not sure the dreams ever did.”

Tony snorted. “Because sleeping at night isn’t helpful? Feeling like there is still someone in this world to save, that’s definitely not a motivator. Ya know, Vision would want to be remembered.”

“You are not keeping me on your side,” Wanda pushed through gritted teeth.

Tony sat back and stared out the window, wishing he had just worn his nano suit. He wanted nothing more than to fly away from this mess. “I’ll move on when you move on.”

He thought through conversations with Pepper. Truthfully he could not remember which had become a recounting of a real event or what was his mind’s creation in to fill the time until Scarlett Witch’s spell. Pepper had once told Tony that he couldn’t tie his shoes without him. Now, Tony knew she was absolutely right.

“Friday, call Barton.” The impulse passed as quickly as it came. What would I even say? “End call.”

All those years ago, when the words first fell out of his mouth, it was Pepper: I’m trying to protect the one thing I can’t live without. She was clear blue eyes, strawberry blond hair, and Tony Stark’s one thing. When Pepper was pregnant with Samantha, he would stare at her face, watching her reaction to kicks and pains and food. When Pepper gave birth, he watched her face as she met her baby for the first time. He watched Pepper play with Sam, he watched Pepper read to Sam, and he watched Pepper become elated at seeing another little plus sign on a pee stick. It was always Pepper. He never said it aloud, but it was always him and Pepper. The rest wasn’t his one thing.

Him surviving without her was never planned; he still wasn’t sure it was possible. Tony was a barely-living, vague approximation of a human being on a good day, a cocktail of sarcasm and snacks running low like the end of a party. Tony surviving with Pepper’s child was essentially the worst case scenario, a horrible joke. A boy he could treat like himself, like Howard had treated him, making adjustments as necessary for hygiene and humor development. A girl was all Pepper’s area of expertise. He had no plan for that.

Young Tony Stark had been sent to boarding school by Sam’s age, but before that, life with his father had been about staying out of the way and life with his mother about distracting her from her husband’s philandering and drinking. That wasn’t the life Tony wanted for his kids—kid, just the one, he always had to remind himself. With the Bartons Sam had far more than Tony could provide, more than he had been provided, and in a sick way, that made Tony jealous.

But he couldn’t really complain, he reasoned, because Harvard wasn’t shabby at all. Tony watched the world go by, content in the notion that he had made the right call for Sam. She was much better off if he stayed away.

[Ch 7: Lecture]

A/N: Personally, I feel like stuff gets exciting really quickly from here, so I'll probably post the next few chapters fairly fast! This one is my baby...

[Main Masterlist]

#tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fic #tony stark angst #tony stark feels #alternate universe #avengers endgame #slow build #slow burn #tony stark's daughter #original female character #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #the stark legacy #series

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luxeavenger · 3 years ago

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That's Not What This Is

Part 3: Mine

Part 1: Bruise

Part 2: Ours

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Backstage Pass!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve x f!reader

Words: 2105

Warnings: Smut, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, come eating, begging, scent kink, pain kink, praise kink

A/N: Before the happy ending, I just want to extend my love and thanks to every domestic violence survivor who has messaged me about this fic since I posted the first part. I am in awe of all the amazing survivors who have shared their feedback on this story. I am grateful you trusted me with your feelings, and trusted me to get all of us through this. I am grateful you've shared your stories with me.

But most of all, I'm grateful you're here with us. You're survivors in every sense of the world, badasses through and through. And I love every single one of you.

We made it to the end together. I hope you enjoy. <3

Beta read by my sister from another mister @samantha-lefay

The National Domestic Violence Hotline has resources for those who need help safely escaping their abuser.

If you like it, please give it a reblog! Your friendly neighborhood smut peddler loves that shit!

Backstage Pass Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-fi

They lay you down gently between them. Their hands all over you while they peel off your clothes, their lips on every piece of skin they reveal.

They give extra attention to both of the places your ex touched you in the grocery store. They take turns covering your decolletage with kisses to erase the feel of his cruel hand. They loudly smooch all over and around your bicep, until you’re giggling so hard you forget what it felt like to have him touch your body with such malice.

Your giggles make them smile against your skin, happy that they can help you forget, keep you grounded here with them. They need you to remember they will always protect you.

Bucky seals his mouth around your nipple the same moment Steve’s hand skims over your mound, and you arch into them with a whine. Two of Steve’s fingers dip into your slit, and trace up to your clit. The slow drag of his brilliant fingers makes your hips roll.

“That feel nice?” You nod, and he hums, “Mmm, then grind against me, pretty girl. Use me to make yourself feel good.” He whispers against the shell of your ear, “I belong to you, princess. Use me however you want. I’m yours. You own me utterly.”

“Mine,” you purr, grinding against his fingers. He adjusts a little, the small change sends heat rushing through your body, and you gasp, “Mine.”

Bucky is lavishing attention on your tits, sucking and nibbling little bruises over your chest and stomach. He plucks at the ends of the barbells in your nipples with his tongue, and tugs them lightly with his fingers until you squirm. You wind your fingers into his long hair, tugging on it while you moan, “Mine.” He growls possessively against your tit, and you hum happily.

“Fuck you’re being such a good girl for me,” Steve compliments you, as he kisses along your neck. “Do you want more?” You nod. He smiles sweetly at you, “What’ll it be, my beautiful girl? My fingers?” he dips his fingertips just inside your entrance. “My tongue?” he licks a long, slow stripe over the helix of your ear, “Or my cock?” he grinds his hips against yours, and you feel him throb, leaving a hot, sticky trail of precome against your bare skin.

“Stevie, please,” you whimper.

“I’m here, gorgeous,” he huffs a laugh against your cheek, “now tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Tongue,” you whine, “want your tongue, please.”

“Shh, easy, princess. It’s all yours.”

He takes his time, kissing down your outer thigh, over your knee, and back up your inner thigh, so you’re already mewling for him by the time his tongue slides into your cunt.

He hums against your core, and you cry out for him. Bucky’s metal hand traces a chilly path down your torso, leaving goosebumps behind. He uses his index and ring fingers to spread your pussy open for Steve, and his middle finger to circle your clit with agonizing slowness.

They have you on the edge in short order. Your thighs squeeze Steve’s head, the peach fuzz on the sides of his fauxhawk chafing your sensitive skin.

Bucky breathes deeply, scenting the pheromones in the air and the sweet smell of your cunt, then murmurs against your lips, “You smell so fucking good, kitten. Know you need to come.” You nod desperately, and he grins, “Then come for him, like the good fucking girl you are.”

It’s a command that you have no choice but to obey when he praises you so sweetly. Your hand tangles in Steve’s silky golden fauxhawk as you come on his face with a gush. You keen as the waves of pleasure tug you under, washing through your body until you’re limp and pliant.

Steve slides up your body, his chin still slick and shiny with your juices. He gives you a grin before he leans in to let you taste yourself on his tongue. You get lost in his kiss, and he gets your attention by tapping your cheek with a fingertip.

“What do you want now, princess? Want Bucky to tongue fuck this pretty pussy? Wanna ride my face? Let us spoil you. What do you want? Anything. Just ask and it’s yours.”

Wanting nothing of extravagance, you answer honestly and with a sweet sigh, “Just fuck me, Stevie.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, and rolls so you’re straddling him. He steadies you with a strong hand on your hip, then lines up, and fills you with his cock. You slump against him, and he holds you in his big, tattooed arms as he plants his feet on the mattress and works his hips, fucking his dick into you slow and dirty.

You’re babbling nonsensical praise against his neck, then he shifts his hips, and the head of his cock is stroking over your g-spot with ruthless precision. You choke out a cry, and whine god, faster.

With a grunt he obliges you, using his grip on you to pull you downward to meet his thrusts, driving his length into you fast and hard. You dig your fingernails into his shoulders when you start to come, wailing his name when you squirt messily on his dick.

“Fuck, you feel so good, doll,” he gasps, “so wet, and tight. You soaked me. Made a mess for me. God fuck, you’re gonna make me come.” Your pussy flutters around him, and further erodes his restraint.

“Do it,” you beg, “come on, come for me. Fill me up, please. I need it, Stevie.”

He buries himself to the hilt, and grinds against you as his cock throbs and bucks inside you. The heat of his come fills you, spills out of you, splashing your thighs, and dripping down his balls.

You rest against his sweat-damp chest, and he strokes your back gently while you both catch your breath. Of course, he recovers his faculties much faster than you do, rolling to the side to place you back onto the mattress.

“You okay, princess?” You nod , and his fingers toy around in your slit. Sliding through his jizz, smearing it around, coating his digits with it, bringing the wet mess to his mouth so he can savor the taste of your cream mingling with his.

Bucky whines quietly from his spot next to you, lazily jacking his cock with a tattooed hand. Steve slides his messy fingers into Bucky’s mouth, humming happily as Bucky licks them clean.

Once he’s done, Bucky asks, “Where do you want me to fuck you, gorgeous?” He pushes two metal fingers into your cunt next to Steve’s with a filthy squelch, “So many holes to choose from, so where do you want me?”

You give a feathery little gasp when they start finger fucking you in tandem. “Fuck In my pussy. God, Buck. Just need you to fuck me.”

“Oh good. I was hoping I’d get to fill this pretty little hole up with come again.”

Bucky shoves Steve’s hand away from your entrance, so he can get comfortable between your thighs. He throws your legs around him, and watches as he teases the pierced head of his dick through your slit before he sheaths himself inside of you with one liquid roll of his hips.

“Fuck me, look how messy you are,” he groans, hooking his hands under your thighs to spread you wide so he can watch your pretty little pussy take his cock. You can feel Steve’s come dripping over your asshole before it plops onto the mattress below your hips. “You’re fucking beautiful, kitten. Filthy, and gorgeous, and absolutely fucking perfect.”

He holds himself still while he praises you, so he can savor the way the compliments make your pussy squeeze his straining cock.

Finally, with a curse, he curls his body over your so he can start fucking you. His forearms braced on either side of your head, while he plunges his length into you.

You whimper and grab his biceps, fingernails digging into colorful tattoos on one side, shiny metal plates shifting under your fingers on the other side. He gives a low growl, and it goes right to your cunt.

“Harder, Buck.”

He obliges you with punishing strokes, his hips smacking your ass loudly. “You too, kitten,” he grunts. He wants your nails in his skin, wants you to hurt him—make him bleed—so you move your hand off his metal arm, and up to his neck. You sink your fingers into the hair at the base of his scalp, and yank his head back. He’s practically purring when you trail your nails down his neck, carving hot tracks into the skin over his tattoos, then squeeze the meat of his shoulder just past the scar tissue surrounding the metal anchor plate for his mechanical arm. He curses quietly as you gradually increase the pressure until his skin parts under your nails.

“Jesus fuck, that’s it. Such a good fucking girl,” he groans deeply, and you can feel his cock pulse inside you.

You suck his lip into your mouth and roll it firmly between your teeth, then let it pop out, so you can murmur, “Mine.” Your pussy squeezes around him as if she’s staking her claim too.

“Yes, kitten. Fuck,” he whimpers. “Yours. All yours. ‘M all yours.”

Bucky shifts his hips, and your back bows off the mattress when he hits your sweet spot, and quickly makes you squirt all over his hips and thighs.

He grins at you with a huffed laugh. “See? You’re mine too. Mine to love. Mine to fuck. Mine to protect, Mine to own. Mine, mine, mine,” he growls greedily with every snap of his hips.

“Yours,” you agree with a moan as Steve’s hand slips between you and Bucky, so he can circle your clit with his fingertips.

“Prove it,” Steve coaxes. “Come for us.”

The force of your orgasm is stunning. The men overwhelm you, and stars spark in your vision when you come undone for them. It’s a good thing Bucky has you lying down, because your legs go weak with the force of it, endorphins racing through your body, as Steve and Bucky work you over like a song they know by heart. Because they do. You’re their song. Their masterpiece; every note, each verse, chorus, and crescendo—they’re able to coax it from you like it’s what they were born to do.

Your thighs are quivering in Bucky’s hands when the last of your ecstasy floods over his cock.

“You still with me, princess?” His smile is lazy and indulgent.

“‘M still here,” you slur.

“Good,” he grunts, yanking you in so your hips are tight against him, he clutches your thighs to his chest when he starts to come. Grinding himself into you so he can unload as deep inside of you as is anatomically possible. You can feel the heat of super soldier come leaking out of you, even as Steve’s fingers try to gather it up and push it back inside of you around Bucky’s twitching cock.

Bucky rolls off you, and flops heavily to the mattress, panting and sweating. He wipes at a little runnel of crimson, dripping over his shoulder from one of the fingernail divots you left there, and pops it into his mouth with a satisfied hum.

Steve is already between your legs again, dragging his tongue through your slit, cleaning up the mess Bucky made of you with an enthusiasm only Steve “Sloppy Seconds” Rogers can muster. His tongue feathers over your clit, and electricity jolts through you.

“Jesus, Steve,” you hiss, “watch it! Human recovery time needed here. Fuck.”

He doesn’t move from where he is, just quirks an eyebrow at you and redirects his tongue. His fingers slip into your pussy, and he starts fucking you with them gently, lapping at the come he teases out of you.

“Goddamnit, Rogers,” you groan, “can a bitch get a nap?”

“A bitch cannot,” he answers sassily.

“Come on, kitten,” Bucky smirks. Then, as if this is a negotiation, “Surely you can give us a few more? We should probably remind you who owns this pussy a couple more times. We might need to remind you who owns this mouth, and this ass too, just so you don’t forget.”

“You think there’s a single chance that I’d ever be able to forget who owns this ass?” you giggle.

He appears to mull it over, then shakes his shaggy head, replying with all the sincerity he can muster, “That’s not a chance I’m willing to take.”

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lovelybarnes · 3 years ago

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b. barnes request masterlist

main masterlist . marvel masterlist . requests . bucky masterlist

key:

angst- * fluff- + humor- # sad- ^

home + person a tugging on person b’s shirt

diamante rojo kind of au with committing crimes with bucky morning + person a won’t let person b out of bed by cuddling them + person a peppering kisses all over person b’s face (aka clingy bucky) tie + requested “wow… you look… you look amazing.”

scars *+^ requested! (PK9) kissing scars, bruises, scratches, etc. + (PF26) person a wiping person b’s tears away

baby blue #+ requested! bucky turns into a baby (toddler, really)

smores + requested! Bucky and reader are night owls, the first has nightmares, second has insomnia. Reader suggests that Bucky pass the time over a fire and fried marshmallows, but they are in Stark’s Tower and they are frying marshmallows on the burner, sitting at the stove

goodbye * sleepover request “enemies to lovers with bucky”

the matter of saving *^ request (DA8) “you can’t save everyone.” + (DA9) “you can’t save me.” home in my house + request: PF17 + DF9 with Bucky’s red henley and Bucky in Romania drunk + request (DF31) “maybe if you stop staring at her and actually talk to her, you might have a chance.”+(DN43) “what did you just say?” unsafe # request! (DF13) “you’re safe.” + (DA19) “touch her, and i’ll murder you.” + DA21) “put down the knife.”

annoying neighbors and fake boyfriends 2 + # request “You stayed over at my place one night but my nosy, annoying neighbour saw you leave. They always get on my case about being single so I told them that we’re dating to show them”

new year, better boyfriend + * a request! DF 41 or DA 19?(DF41) “are you going to cry? please don’t cry.” (DA19) “touch her, and i’ll murder you.”

balloon * request: kind of combined either one day they dissociated and buck was trying to bring them back down to earth or they got into an argument and she flinched but he thinks it’s because of him and his past?

evenings + request! (PF32) person a won’t let person b out of bed by cuddling them+(PK9) kissing scars, bruises, scratches, etc.

baby + request! Bucky and reader have tension with their crush on each other but are too stubborn to make a move. One day reader calls him by his Initials (B.B) in conversation but Bucky mishears it as “baby” and had to do a double take ?

hair request! PF7 (reader plays with b’s hair)

envy * request! y/n gets jealous when she sees Bucky talking with another girl at a bar so she leaves and goes into her car to cry as Bucky notices she was gone so goes looking for her and when he finds her back inside the bar with red puffy eyes and pink cheeks, so he tells her beautiful and positive things?

thirst traps and the trapped # request! the avengers being introduced by Peter to thirst trap edits of themselves

salt * 2 requests combined! (1) (PF27) person a comforting person b after a nightmare, (DF13) “you’re safe.” (DF14) “everything is going to be okay.” with bucky as person A and reader as person b and (2) (PF26) person a wiping person b’s tears away, (PK4) forehead kisses, and (DF5) “i wish i could kiss away all your scars.“ with bucky barnes! bucky is person A

short king # request! doing this tik tok trend on bucky barnes? But it’s to him in person. ( gaslighting bf into thinking he’s short. ) promise * request! reader gets mugged and Bucky finds out click + requested! Some really wholesome fluff of Bucky coming back from a long mission (i may have gotten carried away and barely included the fluff i am so sorry)

silence in colors * request: bucky is giving civilian reader silent treatment?angst with a nice ending? blush # + request! Bucky was never a ‘ladies man’ in the 40’s (him and Steve made a pack to talk the other up no matter what to other guys) so when Y/n makes a move on him he gets all flustered and doesn’t know what to do… you + request best friends to lovers dream a little dream of me + a request: PF32) person a won’t let person b out of bed by cuddling them // (PK1) sleepy kisses // (DF1) “you sleep cute.“ hopeless * request! “where bucky nd reader have a big argument nd then she storms out in the middle of the night leading to her being kidnapped. Then the whole time she thinks bucky isn't coming for her due to the fight” meeting cats * + requested!! Could you write something kinda angsty, bucky is occupied but reader thinks he ghosted her. maybe he has a dramatic reentry like he sees her at a bar on a new date or somethin perfect + request! PF20 (too long hugs) + PF28 (person a lifting person b up out of excitement) + DF2 (“will you marry me?“) ! where in bucky and reader come from their anniversary dinner, and bucky brings her back to the avengers compound to relax and all. but little does reader know all the avengers are outside preparing the decoration and the garden for bucky to propose to her. then bucky proposes to her then all the avengers go out and congratulate them! sushi and fun mugs two + request! bucky is super quiet and intimidating and everybody is parting like the red sea whenever he's around yet there's *this one agent* who does everything to make him feel included and loved. everybody thinks she's being delusional for trying but, is she? midnight haircuts + ^ request! reader cuts bucky’s hair warmth ^ + request! it's really cold one night and Bucky tries to Soldier through it but reader finds him and wraps him up in blankets and holds him to sleep and he just feels so safe and warm and it's just very soft and good. viral # request! DH19) “please stop getting shot, it stresses me out.” + (PH3) person a posts a picture of person b and it becomes a meme aquariums and dogs + * request! pf20 (too long hugs) + da7 (why did you flinch?") ice cream + # request! reader getting cold and bucky being warm haunted houses and hurt comfort * + request! hurt comfort + haunted house flustered part two + requested: a bucky/yn who is like an ostrich in that sense whenever the other is around? Truth + # truth serum, request. (ph1+df31) Flirting and Football + # * (masterlist) College football star Bucky Barnes is immediately enamored when he meets you. You? Not so much. But Bucky Barnes is determined. And the teetering-on-cynical views that you hold for relationships are about to realize exactly how determined he is. Sadistic + # request! Bucky and reader didn’t get along and then bucky discovers she has a sensitive neck and basically uses it against her. Ducks on Plaster + NEW! request! (PF34) person a has a cast, and person b is doodling on it to cheer them up + (PK9) kissing scars, bruises, scratches, The Blanket in The Box + # NEW! request! "What if fem reader got a blanket of bucky. how would he react? how would the team react? i just felt like if u write this promt u would give it the best justification." (THANK YOU SO MUCH for thinking of me so nicely thank you i hope you liked it!!).

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smaptain-smerica · 3 years ago

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Subject X ( Winter Soldier x Reader )

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: {Y/n} Was at the top of her class at the Red Room Academy. Sought after for her expertise in the field by Dr. Zola, who purchased the widow for his Hydra Program. {y/n} Excelled quickly, and began teaching the new recruits using her previously taught skills. All was well until a James Barnes entered the program. His presence turned the entirety of the Hydra program on its head. Rules, hearts and trust broken time and time again.

Maturity: This book is rated mature for graphic descriptions of violence, foul language, and sexual content that may be sensitive to readers under the age of 18.

a/n: This story was originally posted on wattpad and will be updated there first. Follow there for quicker updates! https://www.wattpad.com/user/smaptin-smerica

Master List

Chapter 1

I rose into consciousness, feeling cold metal beneath me confused me. I opened my eyes but all I saw was darkness. Given my past, I did not feel scared. The only thing that I felt was confusion. Confusion as to where I was and what kind of test I was being put through now. Interrogation? Patience? Sanity in silence? My senses were heightened, it felt like I could hear a pin drop if there had been one, but there wasn't. Not even the sound of an air filtering unit hummed overhead. "What are you planning Dreykov?" I whispered into the deaf room.

"Dreykov isn't here for you anymore my darling, in fact he will never be." A spotlight from above shown down on top of me, making my eyes squint at the sudden lightening of the room. With my eyes still adjusting to the sudden burst of light, I saw a small figure in the shadows. Instinctively I reached for the pistol kept in my thigh strap. Only to discover that my hands could not move. Thick metal clamps around my wrists and ankles, and then some less sturdy leather ones in an X shape across my chest, keeping me confined to the cold, unwelcoming touch of the chair. The floor was concrete that was so clean one could eat off of it.

From the shadows and into the light I saw a small man step out into my vision. He was round, a round head with little to no hair and glasses that were round and thick. His pants were black underneath his lab coat that was white, pressed to perfection and probably bleached every single day. It was almost brighter than the overhead light. "My name is Dr. Zola, I am one of the main supervisors of the Super Soldier program here at Hydra." "Super what? Hydra? I thought I was part of the Black Widow Program at the Red Room Academy."

Three days after my 12th birthday in 1931, my parents house was attacked and raided. Men in black suits with guns came storming in from every entrance of the house. I was not prepared for that day. I remember being in bed and trying to fall asleep when the glass came crashing onto the floor with screaming and shouting behind it. I was so terrified, I didn't know what to do. My little heart pounded in my chest so hard I thought I would start seeing the outline of it like in the cartoons. Gunfire rained into the house, making my ears ring and floors vibrate. Instinctively, I covered my ears, tucking my knees to my chest in the fetal position and squeezing my body together tightly. After what felt like minutes, silence coated the house. I could heat the gentle tapping of boots on the wooden floors from in the living room. My breathing had become hysteric and eyes wide as I gripped the covers in fear. A man's voice that I did not recognize boomed from in the living room. "Search the house." Men now combed through every room, drawer and crevice of the house. Tearing apart my home bit by bit. Anger welled up inside my chest as I suddenly was overcome by a gust of courage. I grabbed the small pocket knife from my bedside table, flipping it open and holding it in my hand. I was just in time. As his boots thudded on the hardwood coming closer and closer to my room, I was climbing on top of the tall dresser that held my clothes. Finally, the doorknob jiggled and the door creaked open and a man with a gun pointed into the room made himself known. I leapt off of my dresser and onto the man's head, driving the knife into his eye. He screamed and stumbled around, giving me enough time to escape. I sprinted frantically down the hallway, only to be caught by the collar and lifted into the air like a puppy being picked up by the scruff of its neck. "Aren't you a little fighter?" The ugly man breathed into my face with a sinister smirk plastered on his burley and chiseled features. "Put me down!" I yelled, wriggling as I tried to loosen the grip this man had on me. The man slapped me in the face, the sting left me stunned. I stared at him with teary, wide eyes, my brow furrowed up in confusion. "Give me a reason I shouldn't kill you as well." As well? Who else was killed? My parents? Did these people kill my parents? Why? Had they killed my pet goat as well? I couldn't speak with all the questions swirling in my head. The only thing I could think to do was spit right into this mans face. He let out a breathy chuckle, wiping the spit from just below his eye. "Put her in the truck."

Since that moment, the Red Room was the only thing I knew, the only thing I saw every single day for the rest of my life. I learned that my parents were one of the researchers behind this secret upcoming project that would train young girls to be hero's of the world. Quickly, they discovered this project was not what it had seemed. They became uncomfortable and wanted an out. The men in charge bugged our home and discovered my parents plan to run away and take their research with them. In turn, this is what killed them. Dreykov trained me from day one. Hours upon hours of exhausting training and tests. The tests pushed people to their breaking points. The ones who were able to go past the breaking point were the ones that advanced. Any weak links were terminated by staff or other members of the academy. Each night the girls were handcuffed to their beds to prevent from escape and kept on a rigorous time schedule. Punishment for breaking the schedule was unimaginable. The screams could be heard the entire night, a display of what was to happen to the next girl who fell out of line.

I was at the top of my class, skillfully trained in every department that was required in the Red Room. Nobody would admit it, not even myself, but I was Dreykov's favorite. My learning capabilities and readiness for whatever came my way are what pushed him to push me further and further. I endured tests that most of the other girls never had to go through. Dreykov tried to find my breaking point, some reason I would crack under the pressure. To no avail, he failed every single time.

"You were. From what I hear you were a high class lady. Never once did Dreykov see you fail. Your resilience, persistence, and willingness set you apart from every other girl in that room." As he spoke, Dr. Zola inched closer to me with footsteps that scuffed the concrete floor gently. I made sure to not show any emotions, keeping my face as hard as stone. Finally, I was face to face with the small man, he reached his hands up and put them on my face. His hands were warm and soft, like they hadn't seen a day of hard labor in their lives. "And now you are mine." He whispered the grim statement, causing a lump in my stomach.

"I cannot be yours, you do not own me I am a Black Widow." I growled at him, hardening my face with my eyebrows alone, knitting them together. "Oh but I do now. Let me tell you, Dreykov drives a hard bargain. He nearly drained every single penny out of my pockets, but you were worth it. You are worth more than your weight in diamonds, my dear." His voice was tight, a foreign man speaking english. He brushed a strand of hair out of my face, earning a grimace.

"We sought you out from your first public mission, tracking you down location by location. But you teased us, disappearing from sight when we were centimeters away from meeting. Finally, we found you. Through Dreykov and his men, we were allowed your DNA to test to see if you will be a match for our program. Thankfully for us, you are perfect. You will no longer be a black widow, you will be a super soldier." He spoke the words as if he were a preacher telling me about the great gift of god. I soaked in all the information, this whole thing seemed insane to me. Sold me? Like some prize to the highest bidder? I was extremely confused by what was so significant about this super soldier program, but that all became evident to me when the rest of the lights in the room flicked on. There were multiple other doctors in the room, a control panel and a viewing room at the top of the wall that I was facing. People with clipboards sat eagerly in chairs, awaiting for a show to begin.

"Wait, what is this? What is happening?"

"We will inject you with an experimental serum, making you super human. It will heighten your reflexes, your muscles, your stamina, every molecule of your being will be enhanced to its fullest potential. There will be no boundaries for your body, every ounce of you will be pure, human, machine." While Dr. Zola was talking, he was attaching mechanisms to my body. Soft pads that were connected to tubes that attached to empty vial holders. Young scientists placed vials of blue liquid into each canister. They left one vial for replication in case their experiment worked. "Hey wait a second, I didn't sign up for this!"

Dr. Zola laughed. "{y/n}, my dear sweet {y/n}. I have told you already, I own you. You don't have a say in the matter." His voice dripped, slow and thick like poison sap oozing out of a tree. It sent shivers down my spine, an internal panic set into my chest. I jerked, trying to break free of my metal prison but failed. "No, Take me back, get your money back I refuse!" I screamed in Dr. Zola's face. All he did was smile, smile maliciously. "You will soon find out that there is no choice."

A woman came into my view. Short, curly red hair and piercing green eyes. The small freckles that laced her face scrunched together in a smile. "Bite down on this." Her voice was soft like velvet and kind. So kind as to potentially send me to my death. At least I wouldn't break any of my teeth in the process. Reluctantly, I complied. I took the mouth piece in my mouth and adjusted it. It seemed to already be imprinted to fit my teeth perfectly.

Dr. Zola's voice boomed over an intercom system as the chair I was in got mechanically laid back. Slowly, the ceiling came into my view and I began to panic. The unknown of the coming injection nerving me.

"January 25th, 1944. Subject X, {Y/n} {L/n}. Serum prototype A12. Starting height..." He went on to describe my physique, building the tension that was already rising within me. I felt three pricks in each of my arms with an air pushing sound of pressure being released from a tube. I tried my best to look down but the same woman who gave me the mouthpiece had put a leather band across my forehead, preventing any kind of movement. I was deafened by my own internal fear of what was to come next. My heartbeat echoed inside of my own head until all I could feel was pain.

Searing, hot liquid pumped into my veins. It felt like scorching hot water was entering my body in the worst way possible. I began to scream, scream through the mouthguard I was given. All I could hear was my scream that disappeared into the abyss, not able to echo off the concrete walls. The liquid now reached my brain, turning it into lava that melted inside of my head. Pain, immense pain I had never felt before was consuming my body. Liquid death seeped into every possible internal organ of my body until I thought I may spontaneously combust. Finally, after begging and pleading and screaming for the pain to end, my body gave in. Unable to handle the conscious pain any longer, my mind slipped into a forceful darkness.

Next Chapter

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xsapphirescrollsx · 3 years ago

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Kudzu

Written: 22 Apr 2020

Part 1

Pairing: Black!Female Reader x dark! Bucky Barnes

Warnings: 18+, smut, dark themes, non-con, dubious consent, alcohol use, please read with caution.

Summary: Bachorlette party in the middle of nowhere, Florida.

Stuck out in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t mind so much joining the bachelorette party on short notice. Regina was your sometimes best friend, well more like an acquaintance now after the year you had. But here you were watching her black wavy hair coast through the balmy air of a sparse Florida breeze. She fluffed it up one more time and fixed her bra like she was going to war.

“I’m going to get sooo fucked up!” she crooned and bit her lip teasingly.

The other women circled around her as you hung back from the gaggle. Beyond the neon sign of Harley’s Hole blinked like a beacon in puke green and pink.

“Ted is so fucking lucky–can’t believe you stuck around after you caught him getting sucked off,” chortled the thick blonde to her left.

Regina snapped too, drunkenness all but evaporated as she closed in on the shorter woman. You stifled a laugh and watched with an amused grin.

“He’s quality Beth! Besides,-” Regina lowered her voice and shifted her eyes to the other three women. “We had make-up anal, he’s staying this time.” she whispered.

You groaned and started to walk away from the group when Regina rushed next to you.

“Did you hear that bitch? Ugh, I can’t believe she’s here-”

You glanced over at her. “She’s buying all your drinks, remember?”

Regina grunted a regret ‘ya sure’ and wrapped her arm around yours.

“You should buck up,” she said, still staring at you as she walked. “You’re always so on edge.”

And she slightly shook her arm to loosen you up. It did not work.

“He’s not coming after you for fuck’s sake,” said Regina.

You stopped in your tracks and turned to her.

“How would you know? You weren’t there. For me, or any of it.” you accused and pulled your arm out of her grasp.

Regina’s dark eyes softened to the acrid tone of your voice. She petted your arm like a stray dog and smiled sweetly.

“‘Come on, don’t bring up old shit right now. We’re here to have fun, to let it all go!”

Regina began to pull on your arm again and then half shoved you toward the red door of the bar. “Let’s get shit faced babes.” she whispered and took the lead of the pack.

They got drunk, and maybe so did you–a bit at least. Your body buzzed from the inside out as your skin glowed with the forth rum and coke you gulped down. By the time ‘Baby Got Back’ was in it’s second rotation you walked away from the table of women. Bladder full, stomach burning a touch you asked for the key to the outside bathroom.

You walked quickly out of the door of Harley’s Hole as only anxiety and liquor would allow. Half focused on the task at hand but seriously losing the battle to walk straight you turned left down the chipped paint walls of the bar’s building.

You were glad for the gust that blew around. Your eyes drifted to the small vacant gravel parking lot to the trees. Entangled in kudzu, giant mossy shadows covered by now even with the single yellow halogen light outside of the bar.

Short time later you were there on the other side of the building with nothing but a field of bushes and trees, and a single shitty looking car at your back.

It wasn’t much brighter in the restroom. You stumbled to the toilet, did your business and got off. The water from the faucet spit out ice cold despite the warm air around you. Your eyes floated up to the reflection staring back at you. Glassy eyes, damp skin, with that sullen look you’d been wearing for a year.

You swatted away flinging water at the mirror and walked out of the shitty restroom back out into the night’s humid air.

It took your eyes a moment to adjust to the dark. A shadow moved passed through the light just to your right from around the corner of the bar.

You clenched your hands. This was safe, being here was the best place you could have possibly been right? You swallowed down the fear and told yourself this was all the anxiety talking and looked back at the field for clarity.

You took a step away from the door of the restroom when that shadow manifested fully around the corner.

It wasn’t real, you told yourself. This was just the booze and your nerves reeking havoc on your mind. That the glint off his forearm was nothing but sweat. Your heart beat quicker now, your breaths came muddled from your lips as they trembled. He continued toward you, slowly as he tilted his head slightly as though eyeing you through the dark though you could not see his eyes. Tears blurred your vision and you quickly blinked and wiped them away.

He was still there. You could smell him now. Black coffee on his breath, the sweet cedar shampoo he used because he said you loved it. Bucky Barnes.

You were stuck on the spot as every thought thrummed inside your head.

“What.” his voice, that light deceivingly sweet tone he reserved only for you, floated on the wind around you. He chuckled softly.“Didn’t think I’d find you?”

You dug deep in your spirit and took off for the field.

His steps were never heard. Bucky crashed into you from behind. He grabbed your arms, twisted them behind you and choked you with his flesh hand as he dragged you toward that car.

Fear stabbed into your chest freezing you further. Your feet slid over the pebbles, somewhere inside you though, you had the mind to dig in your heels. But it didn’t delay him, it only made for more work on his end. Bucky shook you enough to startle you to stop. He walked you to the side of the car that faced the field and roughly shoved you against.

Your hands splayed over the frame of the car to catch yourself. But Bucky didn’t give you much time to adjust. He reached for your face and leaned his body into yours.

“Wanna take care of me doll?” he pressed you harder against the car. And you reacted with a crack of a slap across his face. The pop echoed into the field as he paused and stared at you with fury.

Bucky closed in again, he gripped your hands almost crushing them as he pushed them into your chest. “I’ll hurt you.” He said, and squeezed them harder. Bucky pressed his forehead to yours and with a snarling whisper said.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

You nodded quickly and relaxed.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised. His face contorted in the dark. The light of the street lamp by the bar only gave him a ghostly impression of features. His cheeks rounded into what you imagined as a smile. “Doesn’t that sound fun? Taking care of me doll?”

Bucky pushed his lips onto yours in a crushing tender motion. He licked your bottom lip and hummed melodically under his breath as you tried to pull back.

“God I’ve missed you,” he whispered and his hands fumbled down your waist. His lips moved to your neck in a sloppy kiss as he tongued your sweaty skin. Bucky didn’t go slow, not like you remembered. He loved to take his time, torture you a bit with his words and play with your body. But now as he raised your skirt and forced his hand past your thick thighs and into your panties he quickly ripped them away.

“Gunna stir this little honey pot,” And he plunged two fingers inside you.

Warm thick fingers digging through soft wet folds showed your body turned against you.

“You missed me too,” he chided and circled your clit.

Bucky’s metal hand slackened around your hands enough for you to move. You darted to the left only to be tripped at the ankle by a swift military boot. Tumbling to the ground the only thing in the dark you saw was where grass met gravel as your face hit the soil.

His voice comes from deep in his throat. It’s raw, hurt and it chills you to the bone.

“Now you did it,”

You kicked back, scrambled a bit on your back as Bucky falls on top of you. Pushing his hips into yours and at the same time fucking with his pants. His chuckling laugh blankets you as does his weight when he pushed harder into you. He grabbed your hands, slammed them into the grass holding them to the sides of your head and slammed into your slit.

Your guttural scream was the catalyst to his pleasure. Bucky groaned deep and rubbed his hips into you. He dug in more, each time harder than the last. He’s out of quips, Bucky’s lips sweep across yours as he pulls back and strained in the dark to see your face.

Not broken, he thinks. Even like this, somehow your body reacts to him. He doesn’t offer sympathy though. You left. And this was the price to pay.

“You’re gunna cum aren’t you?” he sneers down at you. “This little pathetic cunt can’t work without me aye?”

A voice. A woman’s voice in the distance was yelling. A soft call. Regina! And she was calling your name.

Bucky kept thrusting deep and slammed his metal hand over your mouth as you tried to press on his shoulder with your free hand.

“Don’t you make a fucking sound,” he hissed and thumped harder. “You hold it in!”

Your eyes widen with the unraveling, body clenched down like a vice hard as your orgasm plunged through you. Her voice continued to call, you tried to speak but Bucky pressed harder onto your mouth nearly sinking your skull into the moist puffy grass.

Bucky huffs above you. Eyes on you for certain. Regina’s voice stopped and with it any hope for rescue fizzled out.

Broad shoulders rock back and forth on top of you. Bucky’s metal fingers slid from your face as he leaned down and shoved his tongue into your mouth. Pistoning, his skin slapped against your thigh and cunt.

“Always so tight for me,” he whispered.

Bucky’s face slid from yours, he jerked your leg up over his metal arm and the other, he threaded his fingers into your hand.

He crushed you. Leaned his whole body onto you and all you could do was weakly push against his shoulder. You’re clenching again. All around him, your body underneath him was rigid, you were snug inside and he couldn’t hold it anymore. His orgasm hit hard and Bucky bit down on your shoulder to silence his groans.

For a moment he was docile. Until he wasn’t. Bucky sat up on his knees, panting and running his hands through his short clipped hair. Finally he stood up as you shoved your skirt down. He pulled up his pants and reached for you from the ground. He hoisted you up in front of him and directed you back to the car. You stood there, leaning against it feeling like jelly and misshapen. He messed with something from the passenger side and came back to you.

“I wasn’t gunna kill you sweetheart.” he said softly.

You could see his face better. The distant light against the darkness behind him revealed a cheerful smile etched on his lips. You almost collapsed but he stepped forward and pushed his hips into you. The hiss of duct tape cut through your thoughts and you gazed hopelessly into his eyes. He stretched tape over your mouth.

“You’re my wife, remember?”

You shook your head and pushed against him. Bucky yanked you around, he jerked your arms back and used the same tape to bind your wrists behind.

“No, no. Divorce doesn’t count. When I said I do–I meant it.” he lectured.

Bucky walked you to the trunk, even with you still struggling against him he shoved you into the space.

You look up at him as he put his finger to his lips signaling you to shut up.

You gave out. Slowly your head lulled in his direction. A black silhouette towered above you. Unnerved and spent you simply stared at him with wide open eyes.

“I hope you’re not tired yet, because we have the whole night ahead of us.” he said.

“Hell, we have the whole rest of our lives sweetheart.”

#dark!bucky barnes #black!reader

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thedarkplume · 3 years ago

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Hey, guys I hope everyone's day is going spectacular! As you all know, today is Chris Evans 40th birthday!! I wanted to do something special for such a special day. Thus, I have compiled a list of my absolute favorite stories written for Chris Evans's characters.

Be advised, however, some of these are dubious consent, non-con, daddy kink, spitting, squirting, oral m/f receiving, creampie, anal, and all other manner of kinks I did not realize I enjoyed until joining the site.

It took me a very long time to compile this list and I may have to do some for Sebastian Stan later since some people want to cancel him. But we're not going to talk about that right now.

Here is a list of some of my absolute favorite Chris Evans stories in no particular order.

Golden Boy (Dark!Steve Rogers) - @angrythingstarlight

What sets this one apart from the rest of her stories, is that there's a deep resentment from Steve to Bucky in the very beginning of their friendship.

What The King Has (Soft!Dark Steve Rogers) - @sincerelythedarkside

I just read this one this morning. This was sooo good guys!

Hidden Solace (Andy Barber) - @ozarkthedog

This was difficult. I kept thinking I'd pick Reparations or Cock Worship, but Andy being a little touch starved did it for me.

Burning Desire (Andy, Steve & Ransom as Triplets) - @sinner-as-saint

She really gives you the best of 3 worlds here!

Ticking Clock (Dark!Andy Barber) - @syntheticavenger

Another tough choice. Synth comes straight for your heart and vagina, and you'll love her for it!

Stealth (Steve Rogers) - @afriendlyblackhottie

I may have bitten off more than I can chew, guys! It's so hard picking just one because there's nothing she's written that I can say is not one of my favorites. I'm telling you, get some wine or your favorite drink (alcoholic or not), put your feet up, and enjoy this lovely lady's artistry!

Back Rooms (punk!Me from Playing It Cool) - @fineanddandy

Not only did she use the fabulous @nix-akimbo edit for this one, but she makes you question if loyalty to a friend is worth walking away from a guy that genuinely wants you.

A Different Kind of Love (Alpha!Andy & Beta!Jake) - @river-soul

Can you imagine having both Jake and Andy in an A/B/O world? Read this story and you won't have to imagine!

Wear Me Down (Ari Levinson) - @navybrat817

Her fight is commendable, but you can't fight fate!

The Valentine's Cock Up (Steve Rogers) - @drabblewithfrannybarnes

God, this makes me laugh just thinking about it!

Original Sin (Dark!Bryce Langley) - @stargazingfangirl18

This had to be my hardest pick yet. What can I say about this ridiculously talented author? She made me lust over Robert Pronge which I promise was not an easy feat. I went kicking and screaming, but I'm here. Honorable Mention to her latest series Necessary Arrangements & Devil's Advocate.

Good Little Wife (Soft!Dark!Mob!Andy Barber) - @donutloverxo

All of her stories have a sort of soft and gentle reader that the men trip over themselves to take care of. I love it!

Goodbye Again (Endgame!Steve Rogers & Avengers!Steve Rogers) - @sweetlyscared

I can go on all day about how much I love this story! The emotions, the love, the loss, gah!!! I'll never not reblog this story.

Snowed In (Ransom Drysdale) - @the-iceni-bitch

Another author who has me lusting over Robert Pronge! I love her Ransom stories, beginning with Snowed In, because while he's still an ass, his girl gives it back just as easily.

Renewing Vows (Dark!Steve Rogers) - @gotnofucks

Dibs is one of my favorite authors. She's one of the few authors on this site that when you read her stories, especially the dark ones, you feel the obsession and single-minded desire to possess you no matter the circumstances. I love how she incorporates her culture in some of her stories as well, particularly the Happily Ever After series. You know it's wrong, but seeing the Avengers in their desi apparel still makes me go, "aww! They really want to make her feel welcomed!" P.S. I really, really came close to choosing Murder at the Whorehouse!

Dark Assassin (Dark!Silverfox!Steve Rogers) - @kleohoneyao3

It took me forever to find this story again. I've always been attracted to older men, but Silverfox!Steve is the goat! My second favorite is Of the Earth.

Little Red series (Steve/Curtis/Andy/Ransom/Johnny) - @autumnrose40

This proud Omega always gives you the best C. Evans characters stories. And she's not afraid to push boundaries with different species(werewolves, mermen, octogods, etc). I'm always so happy to see she's posted something.

Creamsicle (Robert Pronge & Dark!Andy Barber) - @sapphirescrolls

I don't think I need to list Robert as dark, do I??? While she has a cornucopia of dark writings, this is my favorite!

I Have Questions (Steve Rogers) - @royallyprincesslilly

Accidentally dirty-talking Steve Rogers? Hell yeah!

Unhappily Married (Dark!Steve Rogers) - @cherienymphe

This is a wonderfully talented dark writer. I almost chose Twice Bitten several times because (1) she writes vampires the way they're meant to be written, and (2) Steve is so unapologetically hot and cold with the reader it makes me weep. But I do love kids (set in fiction only) and poor Nathan needs a real mother!

Hirsute (Werewolf!Andy Barber) - @avintagekiss24

Whew! This was tough. I literally love all her stories, particularly Blue Ocean Floor and her latest, 'with the weight of the world at the tips of my fingers.' There's a sleek elegance to her writing that is unmatched.

Let Me Teach You (Jake Jensen) - @vannybarber

Jake Jensen does not get enough love. Luckily, he's starting to come up. This writer gives him all the love and appreciation he deserves with this story.

Tell Me You Love Me (Steve Rogers) - @lotusss-flowerbomb

We all have pasts, but if you're going to let your co-workers get drunk around your girl, give her a heads up that you may or may not have hooked up with the gorgeous red-haired spy. Loved this so much!!

Mr. and Mrs. Ari Levinson Invite You to...the Worst Wedding. Ever. (Mob!Ari Levinson) - @caffiend-queen

I've never seen Ari written like this. He's wild and crazy and utterly addicted to his new little wife.

I loved everything about this wedding, especially the author letting us see the different Jewish wedding traditions. If you didn't love Ari before this story, you will after this story!

This was fun you guys! And it gives me a point of reference in case I once again lose some of the stories listed here.

As an added bonus, here are some of my favorite @nix-akimbo edits:

#chris evans 40th birthday #fanfiction appreciation celebration

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years ago

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Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Vantalaður Ást

Ivar Lothbrok x F!Reader

A/N: Chapter 2! Here we go! Kjötsúpa is an Icelandic soup that I actually made yesterday and it’s so very yummy!

Warnings: Sigurd is a dick. Ivar is….Ivar. Alcohol mention.

Word Count: 2564

Tagging: @ivarisms @majesticwren @acrossthesestars @a-bang-for-your-bucky @youbloodymadgenius @kaybee87 (if I missed anyone I’m sorry! Just give me a shout!) Currently sick as hell, so my brain ran away.

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

The rest of the journey passed in reasonable silence, you were snuggled into Hvitserk’s side but you could see Ivar out of the corner of your eye. His hand pressed into his thigh running down it in a powerful stroke and you tapped Hvitserk on the arm dipping your head in his brother's direction.

“How much longer Ubbe?” He asked.

“We’re nearly there, then we can get out and all stretch our legs.” You admired the brothers and how they looked out for Ivar even when he was acting like he was ungrateful all the time. Within minutes the Chevy swung round the corner and there was the cabin. It had three stories, wooden steps on the outside leading to the other floors. It was getting dark already and the lights were on casting a warm glow on the fresh snow. With a satisfactory sigh you stretched, watching Hvitserk try and help Ivar out of the car but the younger brother slapped his hand away with a curt word, ignoring everyone else as he let himself into the cabin.

You grabbed some luggage with Kat, dragging the cases upstairs, you got to the landing just before Ivar had a chance to shut his bedroom door. His blue eyes locked with yours for a moment then they moved to the mark on your face, you saw something cross his face and you wanted to tell him you didn’t blame him. But the moment was over as Sigurd clattered up the stairs, Ivar’s expression hardened and he slammed the door abruptly.

“Glad I’m not sharing a room with him this holiday we’d probably kill each other.”

“Your behaviour is so unnecessary Sigurd. Just leave him alone.” To your annoyance he followed you into your room, the trademark Lothbrok scowl marking his face.

“My brother is a jerk. Look at your face!”

“Only because you are a jerk Sigurd! Just stay out of his way this holiday because I can’t be refereeing every damn day.” Lifting the case onto your bed you hoped he’d get the hint and go away but he crossed his arms and leaned against your doorframe.

“Who is it then? Hvitserk?”

“What?” You responded as you took your toiletries into the en-suite.

“Why do you stick with us? I thought it was Björn but you seem to be the one woman he won’t touch.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s not me, you’ve made that perfectly clear so that leaves Hvitserk and Ubbe. Or…” you could feel heat creeping under your skin at his assumption that you were only here to sleep with one of the brothers. “Maybe it is Ivar.”

“What the fuck Sigurd?!” He smirked widely, knowing he’d just touched a raw nerve.

“Is this why you’re still single hanging around us all?” he shrugged slightly. “I suppose we’ll see,” he sneered. You were too enraged to think of anything to say and he left you seething in your room. You spent the rest of your time alone unpacking, slamming your drawers and wardrobe doors until you heard Ivar’s door open. Everyone else was downstairs, you could hear the rumble of Björn and Ubbe exchanging brotherly banter. Ivar appeared in your doorway, leaning heavily on his cane, his dark hair was in a ponytail today with braids down each side revealing the shaved sides the brothers all favoured so much. You wanted to ask if he was alright, had he had his medication, but you knew as soon as you started fussing he’d withdraw.

“Sigurd is a prick,” you chose to say instead. Enjoying the smile that broke over his face.

“He won’t get away with it,” he replied in his accent that you adored so much. You nodded, thinking he was referring to what happened in the car. You heard him carefully make his way down the stairs and you sat on your bed just as Kat appeared.

“Well that was wild,” she exclaimed leaning on your doorframe.

“You can say that again! But usually the journey is horrendous. Something about too much testosterone in a confined space,” she laughed at your comment and you patted the space next to you. “I’m glad you decided to come, it’s been awful being the only woman these past few years. I feel like a bloody parent on holiday with 5 unruly kids.”

“Björn hasn’t let me hang out with the others so much, so this is an…experience,” she confessed.

“Ubbe and Hvitserk are the mellow ones, Sigurd is a shit stirrer, Björn is the enforcer but he does anger quickly with their bullshit and Ivar is just….” You shrugged. “Ivar.” She eyed you curiously before standing up.

“Gonna show me round?”

“Sure!” You led her downstairs showing her the living room where Ubbe was lighting the fire already, the sofas were navy with cream blankets and cushions strewn over and you told her she’d have to fight Hvitserk for them as he liked to hoard them all.

“Drinks!” Björn bellowed from the kitchen. Rolling your eyes you sighed.

“I can’t believe you boys are on the ale already, I’m going to make some hot chocolate.”

“Oh no I am all over the alcohol!” Exclaimed Kat as Björn wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured and you made a face as Hvitserk and Ivar yelled at them to get a room.

“We are in a room!” Shouted Björn. “You just happen to be in it too!” You heard them migrate to the living room. It wasn't until you turned that you realised Ivar was still sitting at the island, the heel of hand was kneading his thigh and you had to reign back your instant need to ask him what you could do to help him. Choosing to busy yourself making hot chocolate instead.

“You want some?” You asked.

“I guess,” he replied sullenly.

You were standing in front of the stove stirring the thick liquid in the saucepan when all the boys came through talking of going outside. Everyone bundled up in their coats, hats and gloves sliding their feet into the boots that lined the floor. Watching them through the window you smiled, Hvitserk was instantly bombarding them with snowballs, Kat shrieked in surprise when one caught her to the side of the head and Björn retaliated. Ivar had gone outside, you could see him sitting on the bench on the porch and Hvitserk was passing him snowballs like they used to do when they were younger. Ivar had a perfect aim, hitting his intended target every time without fail.

You grabbed a thick blanket and put two cups of hot chocolate on the tray, putting a stick of cinnamon in Ivar’s, knowing that he would need warming up. Slipping on your coat and boots you grabbed the tray and opened the door. Ducking and flinching when a snowball splattered on the wall next to you.

“HOLD!” Björn bellowed. “She’s carrying drinks!”

“Thanks Björn.”

“Next time ástvinur!” Shouted Ubbe and you stuck your tongue out at him. Hvitserk took the blanket off your arm and draped it over Ivar without a word to which his brother rolled his eyes but accepted the cover anyway. Wordlessly you passed Ivar the hot chocolate and to your surprise he took it, wrapping his fingerless gloved hands around the mug giving you a quick nod in return. You couldn’t ignore the bubble of warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with your own drink and you settled on the bench next to him.

A snowball from Sigurd hit Hvitserk in the face and he leapt off the porch with a yell leaving you alone with Ivar. Something touched your leg and you looked down in surprise to see he had tried to share the blanket with you but not wanting to make an issue of it. Sliding slightly closer you arranged it over your legs, your whole right side now squashed up against Ivar. You both froze. Not saying anything, just sharing the blanket and occasionally drinking or throwing some banter at the others as the snowball fight continued.

Soon the fight was wrapped up, the boys and Kat were drinking in the living room while you and Ubbe made some kjötsúpa for dinner. You lifted the lid on the massive pot and Ubbe tipped in the vegetables, splashing them in the stock and arranging them around the joint of lamb that was cooking already.

“About 20 minutes right?” You asked, ready to set a timer but he just smiled.

“You’ll smell when it’s ready, trust me. Come on, do a shot with me,” inwardly you groaned as he pulled a bottle out of the cupboard.

“Are you trying to get me drunk on…what do you call it?”

“Svarti Dauði,” he replied with a smirk, dumping two shot glasses on the counter.

“Last time I had this I’m pretty sure I blacked out.”

“Yep. Gave us all a laugh, you fell asleep on the sofa and I caught Ivar…” he trailed off pouring you a glass and sliding it towards you but you couldn’t be distracted from what he said.

“Caught Ivar what?” Ubbe shrugged.

“Skál.” Tilting your head you glared at him and he rolled his eyes in frustration. “Fine, I caught Ivar tucking you in ok? He’s never shown affection for anyone, I never told the others because he’d have never loved it down.”

“But he dislikes me?” Ubbe shrugged and made a face.

“Maybe it’s the other end of the scale,” he suggested hesitantly. “Come on, don’t think anything of it. Drink.”

“Here we go, skál!” You had forgotten how hideous it was, the aniseed taste had you wincing. “Oh yurrrrrgh!” You cried loudly, dancing on the spot while Ubbe seemed unaffected and poured you another.

“Ubbe, why are you getting our cook drunk?” Asked Hvitserk as he strode in.

“Hey! I didn’t come on this holiday to cook for you all. I am here in a family capacity like always. Skál.” This shot went down easier and Hvitserk grabbed his own glass, sharing a shot with Ubbe.

Finally the lamb kjötsúpa was ready, Kat helped you by laying the bowls out on the table along with the laufabrauð and calling everyone to the table. You tried not to look at Ivar suddenly feeling nervous in his presence after what Ubbe had said. You’d never had or acknowledged any feelings for the brothers beyond familial affection, or so you thought. The idea of Ivar liking you more than he let on made butterflies fill your stomach. Sitting between Ivar and Hvitserk you took some bread listening with satisfaction as everyone silently ate their food.

“So what are everyone's plans for tomorrow?” Ivar asked when he picked up his glass. Your movements slowed, you recognised the playful tone to his voice and if there was one thing you knew about Ivar he loved to make a scene.

“Well I thought we could go into town,” Björn answered.

“Sounds like a good idea but it’s best Sigurd doesn’t come,” he answered so matter of factly it took everyone a moment to realise what Ivar had just said.

“What the fuck?” Shouted Sigurd, slamming his glass down in irritation.

“Well after the things I heard you say earlier,” Ivar gestured to you with the piece of bread, but his intense blue eyes didn’t move from watching the growing anger on Sigurd’s face. “It’s probably for the best if you stay here and have a little think about the things we say out loud, hmm?” He tipped his head to the side, a smug smile turning the corners of his mouth upwards.

“I don’t know what the fuck he’s going on about,” Sigurd tried to brush off what Ivar was saying as the others all lifted their heads and looked at him. You were watching Ivar and when his blue gaze swung to you it felt like you were trapped. Ivar’s look was intense, he always used to avoid eye contact with you but now you were pierced by the full force of his gaze.

“Tell them,” he encouraged you softly, nodding to the others. “Tell them what he said to you upstairs.” He sat back in his chair, now just letting the scene unfold before him.

“I…” everyone’s eyes were on you and it was so disconcerting. “He—um…”

“What do you fucking care anyway Ivar? You’re not exactly her biggest fan!” Ivar leaned on the table and laced his fingers together, dragging his bottom lip into his mouth as annoyance crossed his face.

“He asked,” Ivar started with an irritated tone, “He asked her if she was just here to sleep with one of you, because apparently that’s the only reason she hangs out with us.” Ivar smirked, letting the words sink into the silence around the table.

“Is this true?” Asked Björn. Ubbe was glaring at Sigurd but you could tell he was wishing Ivar was lying. Hvitserk leaned forward onto his elbows.

“Ivar better be lying Sigurd,” he told his older brother. “Because she is family.”

“Ivar’s lying,” he mumbled without conviction.

“Actually,” your head snapped up to look at Kat. “I heard him say exactly that. Ivar is telling the truth.” There was a beat of silence before pandemonium broke loose. The boys all started to yell, Sigurd got up from the table followed by Björn who grabbed his top at the shoulder, hauling him into another room followed by Ubbe. Ivar sat in his chair, smugly watching them walk past with a mischievous light in his eye.

“I don’t know why you’re glaring at me, Hvitserk,” he said with a shrug, not even looking up and returning to his food. “He said what he said and he shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.”

“But at dinner Ivar?” The youngest Lothbrok spread his hands in a questioning movement.

“When would have been a good time, huh? Should I have left it and just let him talk to her like she’s a whore?”

“I’m surprised you opened your mouth at all,” Hvitserk murmured.

“That hurts me brother,” he pouted a little, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “I’m all for justice.”

“Excuse me,” you whispered. You couldn’t sit there anymore, you had to leave. Quietly you put your bowl in the kitchen hearing Björn ripping into Sigurd and telling him he needed to apologise but honestly you didn’t want it. Not if he’d been forced into it by his bigger brothers. You passed the dining room to see poor Kat sitting awkwardly at the table as Hvitserk and Ivar continued their discussion. Taking the stairs two at a time you darted up to your room and threw yourself onto your bed. You were too angry to cry, so the emotion just settled on your chest like a weight, heavy, constricting and unshiftable. Your mind was racing and yet you couldn’t catch a thought, they flew through your mind at such a speed you had no idea where they were heading until only Ivar remained. You’d never given your feelings for him much thought before because he’d always disliked you but with Ubbe’s comment in the kitchen and now Ivar standing up for you downstairs. Although, maybe that was just a way for him to get Sigurd back for the incident in the car. Whatever was happening, you couldn’t control it.

#modern ivar x reader #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #Ivar Lothbrok x reader #f!reader #ivar #Vikings fanfiction #modern au #bjorn #ubbe #hvitserk #sigurd #Ivar Lothbrok x you #Ivar my god

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qu1etwolf · 3 years ago

Text

Click Me For Comfort

Bucky/Natasha/Reader (Nightmare)

A/N - These are little Y/N blurbs specially written for people like me who deal with a lot of ment health issues and could use a little comfort from their favorite MCU characters. Feel free to send me requests for these.

TW - Graphic violence

Characters - Bucky, Natasha

Summary - Y/N has a nightmare during a mission.

You hear screaming all around you. The coppery smell of blood and the sharp smell of gunpowder invades your senses in the dimly lit room. You walk slowly down the hallway, stepping across bodies of loved ones, friends, and strangers you only met once or twice…but all of the faces are recognizable. Nothing about this feels right.

You open doors and they lead to strange places - mostly places you recognize but also a few that you don't. All of them are full of violence.

You can feel the scream buzz up your spine like someone touched you with a live wire. You turn and find yourself face to face with the wrong end of a pistol an inch from your face.

"Y/N." The sound comes from the other side of the gun and it is jarring. You vaguely register the soft voice.

"Y/N…" You hear it again as smoke fills the room and reality fuzzes around the edges a little.

"Y/N!" You open your eyes to soft green eyes and a delicate hand on your shoulder.

You blink for a minute, sitting up and looking quickly around the room. No blood, no smells, no bodies, no gun in your face. Was it a dream? It must have been a dream. You suck in air and let it back out in a loud huff. You slowly register Natasha's face.

"I was dreaming again, wasn't I?"

She nods and says, "You were. But you're in the safehouse. You're fine, sweetie. I'm just thankful these walls are thin. Are you okay?"

"I think so? My head is still buzzing. Can you hand me my bag?" you say, sleep and fear still dripping from your voice.

Natasha nods and hands you your backpack from the floor. You root around in it for a minute before pulling out a small orange pill bottle. You take a pair of your anxiety meds and chase them with the glass of water you always keep beside your bed at night. The act of just finding and taking your meds calming you down considerably even before the meds themselves dull your senses.

"Y/N? Don't move. I'll be back in a minute." As soon as Natasha leaves the room the hair on the back of your neck prickles a little. You don't like being alone after a nightmare that rough.

She quickly re-emerges through your door followed by a yawning Bucky rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The three of you have been on this mission for a few weeks. You have all gotten used to your various bouts of sleeplessness and nightmare fits. It comes along with being who you are. You don't know a single Avenger who doesn't have a hard time sleeping now and again - except maybe Vision, but that's self-explanatory.

"Natalia said you had a rough one? That she heard you kick the wall, you alright? Need to talk it out? Wanna take a walk?" His voice is still heavy with sleep as he yawns again. "I can go make coffee."

You shake your head, not wanting to be that much of a bother. "No, I'm okay. And it was the same old thing. Nothing unusual."

Natasha folds her arms and Bucky glares at you and plants his feet in the doorway before leaning against the doorframe. "You are not okay, you look like you went 10 rounds with Thanos."

"Alright, fine. Maybe I'm not okay. But I'm not up to talking about it either. I just wanna go back to sleep."

Natasha smiles, "Well, I think that we can manage."

She gestures toward you with her head as she stretches out on one side of you and tugs you over onto her shoulder. She pulls your arm across her stomach and gives your hair a rustle like you were a 1/4th the age that you are. You feel the bed behind you dip as Bucky steals half the blanket and curls up against your back, wrapping an arm across your hip.

"There. That better, doll?" he says quietly before passing right back out.

You nod and nuzzle into Natasha's arm, eventually falling into a quiet dreamless sleep.

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #the winter soldier #natasha romanoff #black widow #bucky x reader fluff #natasha x reader #bucky x natasha x reader #fluff #trauma

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altagraye · 3 years ago

Text

How to save a life pt 1 (Buckyx Pregnant!Reader)

Bucky x Pregnant!reader

Part 1:

Author's note: sorry this is so long! 😖

You were heavily pregnant with your husband's baby. You couldn't be happier honestly. But you've had to keep yourself away from the public eye.

You and Bucky were afraid that HYDRA would find out you were pregnant with their most prized assassins' child. Bucky wasn't the Winter Soldier any more, but the remnants of what he was turned into was still there.

Not only that being a factor but your own powers, molecular destruction, basically crushing things up at will. Combined with the strength of a super soldier? What HYDRA agent wouldn't want to get their hands on that?

You can't let that happen. No way were you going to let them take your baby.

Bucky was out getting some plums for you, a food craving you've picked up since becoming pregnant.

You groaned sitting up in bed, feet dangling off the edge. The baby was already kicking you like crazy, forbidding you to sleep. Plums and a good rub of your belly usually did the trick to calm your little one down. The kicks were stronger than average babies, naturally. Usually they left dull bruises, which worried Bucky greatly.

Bucky was so excited and shocked once he found out ultrasounds were a thing. You swear he worshipped those little pictures. The both of you came to a conclusion of wanting to be surprised, neither of you wanted to know the gender yet. Although, Bucky insists on a girl.

You let out a deep exhale and stroked your humongous belly, hopefully mommy’s hands would be enough to quell your rambunctious tike.

You felt you were on the verge of going crazy, staying the Avengers tower for so long already but you knew it could only be for the best.

You couldn’t shake this feeling though. looking around to the TV, your laptop, and your phone. HYDRA.

You started to sweat and a panic swept over you. With a flick of your hand, you crushed the TV, caving in on itself like a dead spider. you did the same with your laptop and your phone. if anyone needed to contact you they could do it face to face.

Holy shit, I really am going crazy. What is Buck gonna think when he sees this?

Just then the door swung open and Bucky, clad in his civilian clothes came in. His eyes widening, seeing the destruction of the electronics around the room.

Sweeping some of the broken glass with his boot he walked over to you with a bag full of plums. "What's wrong Doll? I thought i was the one who didn't like electronics." He semi-joked to lighten the mood.

His flesh arm, now being the only option of touch since the fight with Tony, caressed your bulging bump.

You exhaled as Bucky pressed your foreheads together.

Your lip quivered, he'd think you were crazy for sure. But you were so afraid HYDRA was coming for your and Bucky's baby.

A searing tear fell from your eye, unable to hide your emotion from your lover.

Bucky swiped away the falling tear with a brush of his calloused thumb.

He cradled your jaw gently and pressed his lips against your own. Breaking it, "you know you can talk to me. Y/N? What's on your mind, love?"

"I'm scared, Buck. I'm so scared." You told him barely above a whisper.

"Of what, Doll?" He asked in a hushed tone, his eyes deepening with worry.

"HYDRA. They have to have been watching me. T-they'll come for me. For our boy. I know they will!" You confessed, your entire body trembling uncontrollably.

"No! I won't let them! I'll murder every single one of them before they think of touching you, and our little girl." Bucky said, his voice firm.

You chewed nervously on your lip, still unable to shake your paranoia.

Bucky brushed your hair behind your ear, "i love you both, so much! I can't lose either of you. You're my world."

Your foreheads were still connected, you shifted slighty, moving in for a tender longing kiss.

"I trust you." You said as he moved away, opening the grocery bag for you to feast on your favorite pregnancy snack.

"I know you do, Y/N. So, don't worry, love." He said as you picked one plum from the bottom of the bag and took a nibble.

Bucky grabbed a broom from the closet and started to sweep up the glass into a pile.

"I'll have Wanda pick up the microscopic shards in the morning. And Steve will be more than happy to help chuck this." He muttered within earshot finishing his task.

You cursed under your breath, and Bucky shot up from his laying position in your shared bed. He placed his hand on your shoulder.

"Is it the baby? Is it coming?" He asked eagerly and tentatively.

"No, i have to pee. Your son is sitting on my bladder." You told him. And looked down for peices of glass, starting to shimmy your way out of bed.

"Y/N! Don't! Here." He alerted and acted fast, coming to your side of the bed in a flash. "I may be a one-armed wonder, now but i can still lift you." He said tucking his arm under your knees as you held onto his neck for support.

He carried you into the bathroom and set you down gently on the tile.

He stood, leaning on the doorway, gawking at you.

You were slightly uncomfortable with this, getting back to shy feelings like you had when the two of you first met. You shooed him to turn away from you, which warranted a sassy eye roll.

He turned anyway and sighed, staring down at his hand.

You finished up, relieved, and washed your hands thoroughly.

"I feel useless." He blurted out.

This sparked an anger in you," James, Buchanan Barnes! You are not useless." You tried to reassure him.

He turned, looking at from you to your bump. "Sure i am Doll. Look at ya. She's beatin' ya up." He said seriously, his accent falling through in his words.

You dragged his hand to your bump, so he could feel your little one. So that feeling could soothe him.

He bent down and kissed your flesh." Be gentle with momma. 'Kay Princess?" When he was like this all you could do was melt.

You groaned uncomfortablly, one of your hands shooting to your back for support, the other to the left of your belly button.

Bucky stared, still and in suspense.

"Doll?" He begged.

"Mmmm, just a kick." You told him wincing and exhaling as the pain left you.

He stroked the spot near your hand and leaned in, speaking to your baby. "My stubborn Princess."

Bucky carried you back to bed and tucked you in. Leaving one last kiss on your belly for the night.

He snuggeled up close to you, spooning you, his hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. His lips occasionally dotting your skin with kisses.

"We'll think of something, Doll. Everything is going to be alright." He said, his voice low but with meaning.

"Love you, Buck" you said. Staring off, your gaze focusing on the wall.

"I love you too, Y/N, always." He said sweetly following up with another kiss.

You lay there focusing on the rhythm Bucky kept and fell asleep quickly.

#fluff #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x pregnant reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x wife!reader #protective bucky #soft!bucky #husband!bucky

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