#Winter Soldier Fanfic

[embbarnes]

Подарок. | W.S

summary: You give the soldier a present for Christmas.

warnings: Fluff & Angst | Winter Soldier!Bucky | Post!CA:TWS | PTSD mentions | Mention of medical treatments | Recovery | Brief talk of nightmares

a/n: Sort of unofficial part two to Sugar Plums since I had a few people asking for a part two. Same universe I guess, with some time between. Uhh probably rushed idk. To be edited later. ;; wc: 3.3k

Recovery.

Fickle, fragile, exhausting.

He gradually accepted being called Bucky, though the name stirred something uncomfortable within him each time it reached his ears. Steve, ever persistent and hopeful, would use various versions of the name - Bucky, Buck, or sometimes James - in his unwavering attempts to resurrect the friend he once knew, unable to accept that the Bucky from his memories had faded away like footprints in snow.

Winter had completely erased the old Bucky.

While these names would trigger a subtle internal struggle, he maintained an almost perfect mask of indifference, with only the slightest furrowing of his brow betraying any sign of his inner turmoil.

You, however, carefully navigated between calling him Bucky and Soldat, aware that using his old code name might reinforce programming you wished to help him break free from. Yet there was a slight relaxation in his shoulders when you used the familiar designation, the way it seemed to ease the constant tension he carried made it impossible to completely abandon - his comfort, however small, had become your priority.

Even if that comfort stemmed from a dehumanizing name.

It required negotiation and persistent discussions to convince Tony to finally allow the soldier access to the medbay wing for his necessary medical treatments. Despite the soldier's extended stay in the tower passing without any concerning incidents, Tony maintained a strong hesitation about providing medical assistance. His deeply-rooted skepticism and apparent distrust were sources of frustration for you, though you consciously chose to avoid escalating the situation into a full-blown argument, knowing it would only make matters more complicated.

You had already gotten into intense scuffles with Tony over the soldier’s stay, how he needed to be looked over, physically and internally. The dislocated arm Steve caused never healed, and he had been carrying his arm awkwardly close to his body. Other physical injuries on top of the apparent dehydration and malnourishment, he was constantly under a veil of sickness.

The situation was particularly delicate because Soldat struggled with being in the presence of the other tower residents. He was acutely aware of how everyone seemed to cautiously moderate their behavior around him, treating each interaction as if they were navigating through a minefield of potential triggers. Like they were walking along eggshells every time they were near him.

It felt like he was walking on glass.

You were his only source of comfort, though traces of caution still lingered in his demeanor. He knew you posed no threat to his wellbeing. You had been patient and gentle the entire time, regardless of his panic or prone sense to lash out if he got stressed enough.

Long nights stretched endlessly in the sterile medbay rooms, where you faithfully maintained your vigil in the uncomfortable chair positioned beside the standard-issue medical bed. The soldier’s bed remained empty, as he consistently chose to rest on the cold floor instead. Sleep was an elusive companion for him, a nightly battle he rarely won. More often than not, his rest was violently interrupted by his own terrified screams or desperate shouts, his body jerking upright with defensive movements, arms swinging at invisible threats.

You would spend countless minutes trying everything in your power to bring him back to reality and calm his frantic state. Sometimes, despite your best efforts and gentle words, the situation would escalate beyond your ability to manage, forcing the medical staff on standby to intervene with sedatives to prevent him from unintentionally causing harm during these episodes.

Luckily his recovery progressed slowly but surely, transitioning from those intensive IV treatments in the clinical environment of the medbay to the more comfortable setting of your personal quarters. His sleeping arrangements evolved as gradually as his treatment; first from the hard floor, then to the modest couch tucked against the far wall, and finally to your bed.

These days, he found his rest beside you each night, his body instinctively seeking comfort by curling close to yours, desperately trying to make up for all those decades of disturbed sleep and haunted dreams.

Over time, his attachment to you had grown increasingly intense, and he began experiencing waves of jealousy whenever your attention was directed elsewhere. You helped around the tower a lot, so you tended to be distracted with tasks or aiding in another’s need. The soldier didn’t like it, so he began leaving his mark on you. It started subtly at first, he would rub your clothes on himself, in his mind it was good enough that you smelled like him. He saw it in a documentary once, of animals, but he had been in such a dehumanized state for so long, it made sense to him. His body’s scent on you, others would back off. That would work.

But, no, it wasn’t enough.

One day, crossing an unspoken boundary between you, he started placing love bites along your skin, positioning these tender marks from your neck down to your shoulders, eventually becoming bold enough to venture lower, marking your chest with these plum bruises.

The possessive displays sent warmth coursing through your body, and you willingly accepted his territorial behavior. After all, you had become his sole source of comfort and security in this world, making it perfectly natural for him to want to claim you in some way - whether through his distinctive scent (you knew about him rubbing your clothes on his body) or these carefully placed marks. His need to establish this connection, to make his claim visible, he was terrified you’d be taken from him.

Progress was being made in your relationship.

While he was still cautious with physical contact, he had begun to allow gentle touches and brief moments of closeness, though always within carefully maintained boundaries. He was like a cat, deciding when he wanted physical attention and when he wanted it to stop. The challenge of memory recovery remained a significant hurdle in his healing process. You had to help him remember specific things, he often mixed Russian and English, or plainly forgot the simplest of words.

He couldn’t for the life of him remember what a pillow was.

When Steve would speak to him, sharing stories and memories of their past, Bucky would often find himself lost in confusion, unable to connect with the vivid recollections that Steve so enthusiastically shared. The determination in Steve's eyes was evident as he tried desperately to help his lost friend remember the bond they once shared, but for Bucky, these memories remained frustratingly out of reach.

Steve's enthusiasm was well-intentioned, but sometimes, it manifested as an overwhelming flood of information and expectations. You could sense Bucky's growing distress during these interactions, the way his shoulders would tense, how his eyes would dart anxiously around the room. The stark reality was that Bucky's memories of Steve were minimal at best, yet Steve continued to share detailed accounts of their past experiences with increasing intensity.

Your became a careful mediator, providing emotional support to Bucky while gently helping Steve understand that his passionate approach was more hindering rather than helping the delicate process of memory recovery.

Bucky would get frustrated with himself during his journey of recovery. His collection of journals became a sanctuary for his fragmented memories, filled with carefully preserved photographs (provided by Steve), detailed notes written in an unsteady hand, and hastily scrawled thoughts or recollections that would suddenly surface from the depths of his consciousness throughout all hours of the day and night. These journals became both a source of comfort and torment, evidence of his struggle to piece himself back together like a puzzle without a photo.

Even with help from you or Steve, he maintained strict control over his recovery process. He deliberately chose not to document anything that Steve mentioned or tried to convince him of, instead focusing solely on recording memories that emerged organically from within his own mind.

Having experienced decades of mental manipulation, he didn’t want anyone influencing his thoughts or memories ever again. He couldn't bring himself to simply accept Steve's version of events without questioning them, needing to verify everything through his own recollections.

You knew it hurt Steve to see Bucky this way, how he refused to listen or believe him, but you couldn’t blame the man. Either of them, really. It was delicate, it took a lot of patience on everyone’s part.

Bucky’s dedication to recovering his past manifested in sleepless marathons that would stretch on for days at a time. The soldier within him approached the task with military precision, attempting to reconstruct his shattered memories in a specific manner. Yet despite his efforts, the majority of his recollections remained disjointed and fractured, with memories of his time with HYDRA dominating his consciousness more than anything else.

While Bucky was trying to recall his elusive past, you dedicated yourself to helping him build new neural pathways and retain more recent experiences, hoping to make his daily life more manageable and give him a sense of independence. The simplest tasks had become foreign territory for him - the muscle memory and basic understanding of everyday activities having slipped away like water through cupped hands. Modern appliances like microwaves, coffee makers, or the oven had become objects that he approached with confusion.

His relationship with food had become particularly concerning. Unable to prepare proper meals, you would find him furtively consuming makeshift sandwiches, but only when he believed he could finish them before being discovered. His posture during meals was hunched, protectively positioning himself over his plate or bowl, shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming pace, his entire body tense as though preparing to defend his meal from unseen threats.

Food aggression, apparently, wasn't restrictive to just animals.

Among the numerous concerns, his recurring nightmares stood out as the most troubling and pressing issue. The frequency and intensity of these night terrors had become increasingly worrisome, regardless of how well he had progressed otherwise.

Night after night, his anguished screams would pierce the darkness, and these episodes gradually evolved into extended periods where sleep became completely impossible for him to achieve. Bucky would remain awake for days and nights at a stretch, fighting against his own exhaustion, scribbling nonsense into his journals until his body would finally surrender and he would collapse into a brief, troubled slumber.

This cycle would repeat, each time more severe than the last.

Your began looking into different methods that might help ease his troubled sleep so that Bucky could experience the simple luxury of peaceful rest. Your research led you through a wide array of options; from various herbal teas and natural sleep remedies to more conventional medical interventions. However, given his strong aversion to pharmaceutical solutions, you deliberately steered clear of medication-based approaches, knowing they would likely be met with resistance.

Over time, you discovered that a soothing routine of warm herbal tea and gentle companionship proved to be an effective remedy for his nightmares. The nightly ritual of sharing your sleeping space had become second nature, and you observed how this consistent presence brought him the comfort and stability his life lacked for seven decades. His sleep patterns were delicately intertwined with his emotional state, thus during periods of anxiety or perceived threat, his rest would become noticeably disturbed and fitful.

However, your unwavering presence served as a constant source of reassurance, creating a safe haven where he could finally find peaceful rest. Plus, it helped him regain new memories to write down and you could see how proud he was every time he recounted something from his past.

Christmas morning.

Every corner and crevice of the tower sparkled with festive décor, tinsel draped from every available surface, and twinkling lights illuminated the halls in a dazzling display. It was an extravagant winter wonderland that bordered on excessive, but that was exactly Tony's style - he approached every holiday with unbridled enthusiasm, and Christmas was undoubtedly his crowning achievement.

With his seemingly limitless resources at his disposal, there was nothing holding him back from creating the most elaborate celebrations possible.

Aka…he was rich so he could.

In contrast to Tony's lavish approach, you took a more modest approach when it came to gift-giving. The act of receiving presents always made you somewhat uncomfortable, as you found far more joy in being the one doing the giving. You selected meaningful presents for each team member, carefully considering their individual interests and preferences. You couldn't match Tony's extravagant spending (something he never failed to remind everyone of that morning), but you firmly believed that the genuine thought and personal consideration behind a gift carried far more significance than its monetary value (Tony disagrees).

Bucky perched uncomfortably at the far end of the plush couch, his posture tense and rigid while the other team members enthusiastically tore through their wrapped presents with childlike excitement. Your general annoyance with Tony's characteristic swagger and showmanship failed you this morning, a warmth spread through your chest at the genuine joy radiating from Pepper's face when she discovered the exquisite diamond ring he had carefully selected for her and presented after she freed it from the tight wrapping paper.

You stayed by Bucky all morning, carefully observing his reactions to the bustling holiday atmosphere. It was clear he was struggling to process the overwhelming sensory experience and you didn’t blame him. The twinkling lights and shimmering tinsel to the constant chatter and laughter of the group, on top of holiday music and the smells of breakfast and baked goods from the kitchen, were surely a lot to process. His discomfort grew and you recognized the telltale signs of sensory overload in his slightly widened eyes and shallow breathing. The social expectations was clearly taking its toll.

He had wanted to try, he wanted to sit down with you that morning, but he had been struggling.

Your gift pile was modest, exactly as you had requested. You insisted that presents weren't necessary, you found yourself the recipient of a generously stuffed Christmas stocking and an assortment of small, meaningful items carefully chosen by your teammates in a way that made it impossible for you to object to their kindness.

When Steve presented Bucky with a collection of carefully preserved mementos from their past, but the soldier's response wasn’t what he wanted. His eyes fixed on the items that should have sparked recognition, should have ignited memories of happier times, but instead were met with blank confusion and growing distress. You sensed the uncomfortable scene and noticed the mounting anxiety in Bucky's expression, you decided to intervene with a present you got for him.

"Here, I got this for you." You handed him a carefully wrapped bag with delicate tissue paper peeking out from the top, rustling softly with each movement. "Nothing all that special but...I figured it might be nice to have something like this." You replied gently, your voice carrying a hint of nervousness as you watched him, waiting with anticipation for him to open the gift.

Bucky held the bag tentatively, his eyes fixed on the festive baby blue packaging adorned with an intricate pattern of darker blue ornaments. The glitter-coated decorations caught the light as they spiraled across the surface of the bag. He had to blink a few times to refocus his eyes, his hand slowly reached up and grasped the white tissue paper that had been carefully arranged at the top, concealing the gift. He pulled it free, soft crinkling sounded as he removed it.

He reached into the depths of the bag, his fingers brushing against something soft before grasping it. As he drew it out, his hand revealed a charming stuffed elephant, its plush grey body soft to the touch. The toy was perfectly proportioned, with endearing fat limbs that dangled naturally from its tear-shaped body. Its oversized ears flopped gently and its trunk curved in a friendly manner that seemed to welcome embrace. The stuffed animal sat comfortably in his hands, sized just right for holding close and cuddling.

"Elephants are known for their memories, you know." You gave him a gentle, encouraging nudge, your voice soft and hopeful. "Who knows? Maybe having this elephant around will help spark some of those lost memories of yours. They say elephants never forget, after all."

Bucky turned to face you, his expression one of confusion and curiosity. His eyes held that familiar, guarded look the soldier usually carried - a careful blend of wariness and interest that never quite revealed his inner thoughts. He examined the stuffed toy with an almost childlike fascination, as if encountering one for the first time.

His flesh hand explored every detail of the plush elephant with careful attention, fingers trailing along the soft fabric. He wrapped them around the trunk, testing its flexibility, then moved to rub the floppy ears between his thumb and forefinger, then squeezing the body gently as if checking its softness.

"There's something else too." You smiled warmly, gesturing toward the bag with enthusiasm. "Go ahead, take another look." He complied, reaching in until his hand emerged clutching a brand new journal. Following the theme, the journal was decorated in a soothing light blue shade, its cover stamped with a delicately printed elephant in the center. "I noticed your other journals were getting pretty full, so I thought you might need a fresh start. This one's got plenty of space, lots of room for all those thoughts and memories you want to keep safe."

His hands gently set the items down after examining each one carefully, his eyes lingering on every detail as if trying to memorize them. Then he turned to you, his expression unreadable. "You...got these...for me." Bucky spoke slowly, each word carefully chosen, as if he was having trouble processing the simple act of kindness. "To help me remember?"

"And, the elephant will be a nice cuddle buddy for those long nights you tend to have," you explained softly, watching his reaction. "It has special infusions of lavender and bergamot oils that I picked specifically to help you sleep better. The aromatherapy might even help soothe away those bad dreams you've been having. Well, at least according to the sales clerk." You reached out and lifted the soft plush elephant, bringing it to your nose and inhaling deeply. "See? It's really calming, isn't it?"

He took the toy back and smelled it deeply, letting out a contented sigh as the aroma filled his nose and sent waves of comfort through his body, making him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He carefully lowered the elephant into his lap, treating it as if it were made of delicate porcelain. His throat tightened with emotion as he swallowed hard and looked back at you, his eyes wide with disbelief and gratitude.

"All this for me?" he whispered, his voice barely audible as he struggled to process the reality that someone would think to get him anything at all (Steve didn’t count). The concept of receiving gifts was so foreign to him, so far removed from his perception of what he deserved, that he could barely wrap his mind around it.

You thought maybe it looked sill to some people, but it was more about why you got it, not what you got him.

You nodded, offering a warm smile, "Yes...I got this just for you."

The soldier's gaze slowly drifted back to his lap, his fingers lingering momentarily on the thoughtful gifts before carefully pushing the journal and elephant to rest beside him. He then leaned forward quickly, closing the distance between you and wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. The display caught you off guard, given his usual hesitance to initiate any form of contact beyond nightly cuddling or his possessive love-bites.

After you recovered from the sudden gesture, your arms encircled him in return. You drew him closer as he nestled himself against your body, seeking comfort in your warmth and smell. It was one of the only things he could consistently rely on.

A knowing smile played across your lips as you whispered against his ear, "I take it you like it?"

"...Да."

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

[brunchable]

𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 [ 2 ]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Friends to Lovers. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky just not getting enough of you, fingering, cunnilingus, Oral [M&F], unprotected piv, creampie. Just PURE making love, no kinks. Summary: It's only been a few hours since you've become official and Bucky want to show you just how much you mean to him. A/N: 2 of 2. And I must say. . . JAYSUS. BON APETITIDDIES.

Part One

You were stiff. You were sore. Your arm was asleep. And you felt fucking fantastic.

Maybe in the movies people woke up entwined in each other's arms after a night of spirited lovemaking, but for you, reality was much more awkward. Your head had somehow become wedged behind Bucky’s shoulder, and both his legs were about to slide off the couch altogether. You untangled yourself as best you could, looking down at him as you moved his limbs out of the way.

Bucky was sleeping peacefully, his dark lashes lying flat against the skin beneath his eyes. They fluttered slightly as you pulled free of him, and he stirred.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled, and turned over so he was facing the back of the couch, still caught in mid-slide towards the floor.

You tried not to laugh. God, he was adorable.

You sat up, arching your back to stretch out the sore muscles. Then your breath caught. What time was it? Holy hell, I’m going to be late.

You stood up quickly, and was seized by an ache between your legs so unfamiliar that you nearly sat back down again. Holy crap. It had been way too long. You almost felt like a virgin again. You rose again shakily, noticing that your whole groin felt sore, and so did your hips—probably from throwing your legs up around his waist. God, what a wanton hussy you were, you thought happily.

You went quietly towards the bathroom, checking the clock on the stove as you walked by. It was nearly eight-thirty. Crap. You were supposed to be at work by nine, or nine-thirty at the latest. you'd  have to make the shower a quick one.

You stood under the hot water, letting it pour over your sore muscles. You washed out your hair, lathered up your body and massaged your sore hips as random images from last night invaded your thoughts. Even now you weren't entirely convinced it hadn't all been a dream. Has it really happened? The soreness was real enough. And so were the images flashing through your mind.

Bucky’s body on yours, looming over you, holding your wrists, kissing you with abandon. Taking each breast in his mouth, teasing you with his fingers. Sliding into you, tilting your back and thrusting deeper, faster, harder.

Suddenly a blurry figure appeared on the other side of the glass door. The door slid open and he stood there, looking disheveled from sleep but adorably sexy. And naked, too.

"Hi," he said, a seductive smile curving his lips. His eyes traveled down your naked body, pausing at your breasts and then sliding down to the between your legs where rivulets of water coursed and ran together.

You flushed at the frank inspection but willed yourself not to try to hide from him. You shifted your weight, jutting your hip out provocatively and smiled.

His eyes returned to yours, desire glinting in them. "May I join you?"

You pushed the door back and invited him in. Bucky stepped in and crowded you, not unpleasantly, until your back was up against the tiles. He braced his hands on the wall behind you, and let the water flow over him as he leaned down and kissed you.

You opened to him and kissed him back, winding your hands around his waist and sliding them down his ass, squeezing appreciatively. He smiled into the kiss, enjoying your wandering hands, then pushed forward so your bodies were pressed together, the water slick and warm between you.

"So," he murmured in your ear, his voice barely a whisper above the sound of the water. "So much for that idea."

"What idea was that?" you whispered back, kissing his ear.

"The idea that we could ever be just friends," he said, catching your jaw with his lips as you turned your head. He covered your neck with slow, lingering kisses, trailing his mouth down your and cupping your breast with his hand.

"Oh, I don't know, I think it's a great idea so far," you said coquettishly. "Besides," you joked. "I do this with all my male friends."

He mocked a scowl at you, and gave you  that smile that had always melted you. "Well, that's going to have to stop. You're mine now."

He kissed you slowly, his tongue tangling with yours as he teased and tasted, enjoying your mouth.

You kissed him back, licking and tasting and enjoying him until you felt rather than heard a hum of desire, of pure carnal lust, vibrating through him. He was growing hard against your belly, his cock pressing against you urgently.

He lowered his head further and took your  nipple into his mouth, licking the soft nub until it grew hard beneath his tongue. Pleasure shot through you, and he turned to lavish the same attention on your other breast. You writhed against the cold tiles at your back, arching into him and sinking your fingers into his hair to hold him to you. He smiled as you moaned with pleasure, and laughed softly when he took your nipple between his teeth and made you suck in a sharp breath.

His cock was as hard as it had been a few hours ago, and it surged in your hand as he took your breasts. You gathered some suds into your palm and grasped him again, feeling the iron-hardness of him beneath the silky skin. You began to stroke, gliding fast and smooth, and he groaned from the pleasure of it, collapsing against you and kissing you between his soft, low sounds of pleasure and need.

You kept stroking and teasing, gliding over him in a steady rhythm, and felt yourself growing warm and slick at how hard he was beneath your fingers. You loved that you were doing that to him, making him want you so much. He groaned, his breath jagged and shallow. He tried to kiss you through his mounting pleasure but he had to break off to breathe, to lose himself in the sensation.

"God, baby," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "So good."

You tried not to focus on him calling you baby, knowing it was only his arousal talking. You focused instead on the intense pleasure that was making him say it. You continued stroking him, changing your hand position so that you pulled up with each stroke, teasingly pulling his skin up over the head each time and sinking down to the base, pleasuring every inch of him. Your other hand cupped his balls and caressed him, gently rolling him around in your fingers as he tensed and surged and seemed to fight against you, against the unbearable pleasure you were causing him.

After a few torturous moments he stopped your hand, his breathing so fast and ragged that he could hardly speak. 

“You—don't want—this to end too soon, do you?” he warned, kissing you in between breaths. “Because, my God, you could make me come in seconds if you wanted to.”

“That might be fun,” you said, kissing the edges of his mouth, licking at his lips and his tongue when he opened his mouth to you again.

“For me, yes,” he breathed, breaking away from you. “But I'm not nearly finished with you yet.”

He slipped his hand into your hair and held your head, kissing you with such raw passion, such naked need that you felt a surge of warmth flood between your legs in spite of the cooling effects of the water. He had wrung a soul-shattering orgasm out of you just a few hours ago and yet here you were again, eager for him again. Wanton hussy indeed.

"Do you remember that night, two years ago?" he asked, his voice low and deep. "At the party, when I played that song on the guitar for you, and you asked whether it hurt my fingers to play the steel strings?"

He was watching his own fingers trail over your breasts, over your tightened nipple, down past your navel, as the water trickled over you both.

"Mmm hmmm," you murmured, your eyes closed, lost in the sensation of the water coursing down your body and his hand moving over you.

“And you touched my fingertips…”

Of course you remembered; you'd run your  fingers over the roughened pads of his fingertips, and had watched in delight as he'd twitched a little, and then trembled, just a little, at your touch. You'd kept your touch feather-light and soft, drifting over his fingertips and down his fingers a little, feeling the shiver of heightened awareness in your  own hands.

Maybe you'd been a little too suggestive, a little too lingering, whispering-touching those parts of him that were supposedly hardened against such sensations—but you'd been unable to stop yourself. His hands had been warm and strong and eminently male, and when he'd stiffened and held his breath, as if willing himself not to react to your seductive touch, you'd felt that shiver of awareness deepen into an intense desire.

Such a seemingly innocent touch, just a friend examining the time-worn calluses of a guitar player's fingertips. . .and yet in that moment, even amongst their friends, even with the music playing loud and the laughter soaring above it, you'd felt like it had been just the two of you in that room, touching each other intentionally for the very first time, your hand tentatively reaching out for his, and his reaching to meet your half way.

“You drove me wild.” he said, leaning to kiss your neck. “I got so hard, I was afraid to move. And after that, I kept thinking of all the things I wanted to do to you with these fingers.” He slipped his hand between your  legs and caressed your folds, parting them gently and sliding inside you. “Like this, for instance.”

You moaned and leaned your head against his shoulder, letting him touch you wherever he wanted. His fingers explored you, caressed you, possessed you, expertly as though they, too, knew you were his.

“I just had to touch you,” you breathed against him. “And believe me, this is what I was thinking about too.”

“You stopped me last night,” he murmured, dragging his mouth along your neck. “I wanted to feel you come for me. To finish what you started that night.”

You groaned at the sound of his voice, so low and sexual, so heated with his own desire.

“Let me feel you come for me, baby,” he whispered into your ear, licking your  earlobe. “Please.”

He gripped your hip and lifted you up against the wall slightly, positioning you so he could slide his fingers deep inside you. He held you firmly around the waist, bracing you against the wall, and thrust into you gently, with first one finger, then two, sliding deeper and deeper each time, stretching you, mimicking the size and power of his cock. His thumb played over your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you as he pressed his forehead to yours and gazed down into your  eyes. You gasped and cried out from the overwhelming pleasure of it even as you squirmed beneath his fingers and ached for more.

He braced you against his thigh and pressed against you while his arm steadied you from behind, holding you completely in his grasp. Bucky had such a way of holding you, letting you know that you were going nowhere, making sure you had no desire to be anywhere but in his arms. You felt safe, and secure, and above all, worshiped.

Bucky bent down and kissed you, sliding his fingers into your with a wild, sensuous rhythm that matched the increasing speed of his thumb as it stroked and rubbed and swirled around your aching clit. His hand was so strong, his fingers curving inside you to caress you, to find that super-sensitive inner spot even as he plunged and drove and took. With his thumb circling your clit in a relentless rhythm and his fingers deep inside you, stretching you, claiming you, you felt completely owned by him, by the hand that possessed every inch of you.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, matching the rhythm of his fingers, swirling, tasting, mutely revealing that he had had another  fantasy, too. The thought of his mouth on you, his tongue tasting you, torturing you, swirling over your clit as you writhed beneath it made you go weak in the knees.

Bucky broke away from the kiss and began trailing kisses down your neck, your breasts, lowering himself to his knees in front of you  while bracing your hips against the tiles with his strong hands.

"Did I mention what it did to me the first time your tongue touched mine?" he whispered devilishly.

He looked up at you so intently, his beautiful blue eyes blazing as the water streamed over his shoulder and down the contours of his chest. You gazed down at him, and for the second time this morning questioned whether  all this could actually be happening. This gorgeous, virile man gripping you, kneeling before you, gazing at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It couldn't be real, could it?

Then he lowered his lips to your and you knew it was.

Sensation tore through your touch, so delicately gentle at first, and you arched against the wall with a startled cry. You reached down and gripped his shoulder, steadying yourself on one foot as he brought you to your leg up slowly, gently and eased it over his shoulder. The sight of it alone nearly made you come. He moved so languidly, so sensuously, positioning you better so he could enjoy your all the more.

He closed his mouth over your clit and kissed it luxuriously, his lips moving as though he were kissing your mouth. His tongue swirled over you in large, sensuous circles and he groaned against you, tightening his grip on your hip as you moaned against the sudden overwhelming pleasure of it. The tip of his tongue darted out to flick against your  rapidly as he looked up at you again, watching your pleasure, his eyes smiling at you as if he knew precisely how good he was making you feel. Then he fell on you again, his tongue roaming over you, tasting you, luxuriating in your folds and dipping to lap at your entrance.

“Oh my, g-god. Bucky—”

You bucked against him and cried out as his tongue slipped into your and pulsed there, gently, savouring you. Your hand sank into his wet hair and as you gripped his head, you were rewarded with a muted chuckle and a more intense forward surge of his tongue inside you. He liked the moans he wrought from you. He liked being able to make your  cry out and seize him, your head thrown back in agonizing pleasure.

And fuck did you like it, too.

"Oh God," you breathed, your heart thundering in your chest. "My God, that feels so good..."

He withdrew from your and slid his tongue up to torture your aching clit, and just when you began to miss the feel of him inside your he gently pushed his fingers into your again and began to thrust.

Pleasure soared through you and you cried out even louder, and the leg draped over his shoulder began to tremble. His tongue circled your clit again, deliciously slowly, as his fingers slid into you over and over again, a sensual, primitive rhythm that made you  want to grind your hips against the pleasure.

“I'm coming,” you whispered urgently. “You're going to make me come…”

His fingers thrust deeper and faster and he began to lick you so quickly, with such a throaty groan of pleasure that you felt your  orgasm rise, terrifyingly fast and sharp, making you cry out in increasing, panting breaths until you shattered, coming violently around his fingers and that sensuous, irresistible tongue. You shuddered with an aching cry and trembled from the spasms he sent rippling through you. Your body curled forward as you gripped him tighter, your  fingers pulling on his hair from the pressure.

He removed your leg from his shoulder gently as you continued to shudder, feeling aftershocks of pleasure shiver through you. He got to his feet and helped you stand, pressing himself against your  and nuzzling your neck.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, your voice shaking. your  whole body shaking. “That was incredible.”

“That...was just the prelude,” he whispered, kissing you. “I haven't even started pleasuring you yet.”

God, he was going to kill you. Death by orgasm, you thought happily. What a way to go.

He leaned to turn off the water, but he stilled his hand. He looked back at you with a questioning expression, and then understood. You pulled him back towards yourself and he went willingly, stepping back under the stream of water, kissing you deeply, his hands roaming greedily over your  body.

You weren't done with him. He had made you feel like a goddess, worshiped, cherished, adored.

You broke off the kiss and began trailing your  lips down his neck, his collarbone and chest, enjoying the warmth of the water trickling past your mouth. His chest muscles tensed as you kissed them, and as you moved your  lips slowly down his abdomen you felt his whole body go rigid with anticipation. You sank to your knees in the tub and brushed kisses along his navel, his hip bones, and he put his hands on your shoulders to steady himself. Water coursed over both of you, and you delighted in it, closing your eyes against the spray.

“Baby,” Bucky said softly, barely audible above the water.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. He was about to say something but you smiled and glanced away, focusing instead on the head of his cock, hard and urgent in front of you. He was thick and beautiful, and still as hard, maybe even harder, than he had been when you'd teased him with your  hands.

“I want to taste you,” you said playfully. “All of you.”

You leaned forward and gently licked the swollen tip of his cock. He inhaled sharply, his whole body tensing, and you smiled up at him, letting him know this was for your  pleasure as much as for his. You swirl your  tongue around the head, taking it into your  mouth and suckling gently, teasing it. The skin was soft and smooth, stretched deliciously tight from the hardness of his erection.

You let your tongue play over it, dipping into the opening, making him moan. You drifted your tongue along the ridge, and down to the sensitive skin just beneath the head, licking and tasting, nipping and kissing.

You looked up at him, and his dark eyes were wild with desire. You smiled, and ran your  tongue up and down the length of him, ending at the head and flicking at it delicately, teasingly. He moaned softly, his breathing starting to grow rapid. You rose up slightly to take the whole length of him into your mouth and sucked him, long and hard.

He let out a gasp and braced himself against the wall with one hand, his other  hand gripping your  shoulder.

“Oh fuck—Baby...”

You slid your mouth over his shaft, deeper, deeper, and slid back up the length of him. Your hands came around and gripped his ass, pulling him towards you. He staggered forward slightly as you took him into your  mouth again, luxuriously taking in his entire length, sucking, licking, tasting as you went. The sensation of him in your mouth was almost as overwhelming as his first entrance into your body had been, so unfamiliar but so right at the same time.

You caressed his balls with one hand as you played your tongue over his cock. He groaned, his breathing jagged now, his cock harder than ever. His hand moved from your  shoulder to sink into your wet hair, and he gripped your head with barely restrained urgency. Gently he guided your head closer to him as you sucked. You lowered yourself onto him and slowly sucked your way back up, your mouth gripping him, your cheeks hollowing, as your tongue slid over him with each pass.

His hips began to move as he started to match your rhythm, thrusting into you, meeting your mouth. Bucky gripped your head more firmly and held your head still, driving into you gently.

You let your hand fall and you sat back on your haunches, enjoying the feeling of him sliding in and out of your mouth, controlling his own pleasure, taking what he wanted, and what you were so willing to give. Yet you could tell he was holding back, wanting to thrust harder and faster but restraining himself and settling for a smoother, slower pace.

For you. Bucky was holding back for your sake. This passionate, soulful, virile man was holding back his own pleasure because he wanted to be gentle with you.

The very thought of it excited you, and you increased your own rhythm, encouraging him, moaning with pleasure as he drove into you. You sucked harder, faster, turning your  gaze up to him with an urgent plea in your  eyes. Faster. Deeper. Now, my love.

And he understood.

Bucky groaned, and stepped forward. His hand clenched in your hair and he began to move, faster and harder, plunging deeper, holding your head as he thrust into your  mouth with urgent, rhythmic strokes. He slid in and out of your mouth as if through warm honey, and you felt and heard his pleasure mounting with every ratcheted breath and every desperate moan that escaped his lips.

His eyes watched your with rapt adoration and abject lust, and you could tell that the sight of your taking him fully into your mouth, of your sucking him with pure, greedy abandon and complete acceptance, was pushing him closer to the edge as much as the intense pleasure of your tongue on his cock was. Or more.

He tensed as his rhythm grew faster, his breathing harder, until you felt him tighten and strain so much that you felt certain he was going to spill himself into your mouth. But at the last moment he cried out and pulled back, his cock slipping out of your  mouth quickly. He stood still, breathless, his eyes closed as if willing his orgasm to retreat. Water sliced down his neck and chest, and finally he let out a slow, jagged moan of a breath and opened his eyes. He looked down at you wildly, and reached for you,helping you to your feet.

“Jesus,” he said breathlessly, staring at you as he tried to catch his breath. “I can't...I can't believe how goddamn good that felt. You brought me so close, so fast, I almost couldn't stop it.”

“Why did you?” you asked, running your  finger along his jaw. “I wanted to feel you come for me.”

He groaned against you, his hands roaming over your  body. “I told you, I'm not nearly done with you yet.”

He kissed you hungrily, his cock surging against your violently as your bodies met. you could feel him moving against you, his cock rubbing against you,and you knew how badly he wanted to be inside you again.

As badly as you wanted him inside you again.

He stepped back, his breath still ragged, and pressed his forehead to yours as he closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

“You're not done yet, huh?” you teased gently, letting your fingers sink into his wet hair as you kissed his neck.

“Not nearly.”

“But I have to go to work. Maybe if I'm lucky you'll be here when I get home?”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

He reached to turn off the water and stepped out of the shower, turning to help your step over the wall of the tub. You threw your robe on and cinched the belt as he dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. You caught him grinning at you, and it was so clear what he was thinking that it made your  laugh.

“What?” you demanded, squeezing the excess water out of your hair with a hand towel. “What are you smiling at?”

Bucky wetted his lips with his tongue, “Fuck it. You're just going to have to be late for work. Come here…”

“Hey!” your eyes widened playfully, jumping away from him. “Are you trying to kill me? Stop!”

Bucky untied your robe and you yelped, trying to slap his hands away. He just kept advancing on you, grinning devilishly. You turned and scampered away from him with a squeal of delight.

He followed behind, still grasping for the robe. You shrieked and laughed and ran towards the bedroom, and he followed, catching up to you and pushing you onto the bed with a resounding crack of the bed frame.

You laughed as he tumbled on top of you, but he silenced you with his mouth, kissing you hungrily as he impatiently pushed your robe aside. His breath was ragged as he nudged your legs apart with his knee, his need too great for the slow, sensual lovemaking of last night. He held his cock against your entrance and smoothly thrusts into you and moaned against your mouth, and you wrapped your legs around him to draw him deeper.

He plunged into you, covering your body and your mouth with the same hungry possession. You were still so warm and wet, so exquisitely ready for him that he filled you easily, driving you relentlessly as he tasted your tongue, your lips, your neck, and groaned from the pleasure your body was giving him.

You tensed around him and he moaned breathlessly, a throaty, male sound of pure ecstasy. He pounded into you, falling into a steady rhythm born of raw, primitive need. Your body tightened around him with every thrust, and waves of pleasure rippled through you, building in intensity up to an almost unbearable pressure, a delicious heat that made you moan into his mouth as he kissed you.

He rose up, his arms braced beside you, to look down as he stroked and withdrew and breathed out his pleasure while his eyes glowed pure heat. He grabbed your rear, tilting one hip up towards him, entering you  on such an angle that a new kaleidoscope of pleasure bloomed throughout you. He gripped you possessively, driving you deeper and faster and harder. His eyes burned, glowing like obsidian, hot and wild and almost frenzied with desire.

“Baby,” he groaned, his eyes pinning you, claiming you, as though he were branding you with your heat.

You're mine...

You're mine...

Your first time together had only been hours ago, but it was as if you had been lovers for years...every fluid flexing of his hips against you hit just the right spot, every deep, powerful thrust of his cock stretched your pussy with a familiar, almost expected surge of pleasure.

“Yes—oh god yes, Bucky—fuck me,” you breathed.

Two simple words and suddenly he was on the edge...buried so deep inside you, thrusting, plunging, your breasts pressed against his chest, the pleasure roaring through his body.

Suddenly he wanted to take you, hard. He wanted to fuck you with abandon, the eyes-closed, head-back, moaning-out-loud kind of sexual abandon that he had so rarely experienced in his life, but which was crashing through his body and mind right now.

He wanted this woman...he wanted to own you, to take you, to claim your body as his....he wanted to fuck you until he'd emptied his balls into you, feeling your pussy clenching and spasming in orgasm around his cock as he came, as you came, as you came together.

He withdrew from you quickly, barely able to catch his breath, and, as if you could read his thoughts, you turned onto your stomach just as his trembling hands guided your hips over. Your hair spilled over your bare back and your ass curved out so seductively it was all he could do not to cum right there, all over your smooth skin. But his cock knew what it wanted, and he pulled you forward to slide into the heaven of your pussy, so wet and tight and swollen for him.

He cried out when he took your again, his cock parting your folds and filling you so completely. The feel of him stretching you, the crest of his head pressing against your  from this new angle...you felt a tremor of pleasure ripple through you and knew you were close, as close as he was. When he leaned over you and began to kiss your  shoulders you shuddered, and when he began to thrust you buried your face in the pillow and moaned.

Your moans of pleasure filled the room and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to last, begging his aching cock not to explode just yet. . .this pace, these quick short strokes as his hips slapped against your ass, your body moving with his every thrust. . .It was almost too much to bear. Bucky buried his faced in your sweet-smelling hair and let his cock plunge as it would, faster and faster, making him shake, making him breathless, making him feel like nothing but a desperate cock as he fucked you.

And fucked you. And fucked you, as you had begged him to...

You could only whimper now, lost to the pleasure of his man taking you like this, fucking you so wildly, almost savagely. The pleasure he was taking from your body, his moans and groans and the growls of pleasure you could feel against your back and in the warm breath at your ear. . . it was pure, primal lust.

You felt worshiped beneath him, as if every thrust of his hungry cock was a tribute to you, every growl and sharp breath an oath. He was fucking you, mindlessly, and yet every part of him was attuned to you, touching you, adoring you.

As his pace grew even faster, his thrusts shallower, you could sense he was about to come, and you felt your muscles tighten around him to heighten his pleasure and hers. His thrusts were so powerful that you felt the orgasm rising in you and you closed your eyes, lifting your head back so he could slide his hand into your hair, gently holding your neck and kissing your jaw with breathy, open-mouthed kisses.

“Oh, God Bucky...I'm coming,” you moaned. “I'm coming.”

“Yes...cum for me baby....cum on my cock.”

“Cum with me....please....I want you to cum inside me, please....please....”

And he could withstand it no more.

Pleasure detonated through him as his orgasm spasmed throughout his body, wracking him with wave after wave of euphoric release. He cried out your name as he thrust and bucked against your flesh, driving his cock deeper and deeper as he came and came and came. It felt like he would never stop cumming, and when he felt your orgasm tear through your pussy and clench his cock in waves, he thought he might black out from the sheer ecstasy of it.

You slammed back against him as the first spurts of cum began to fill you, and felt your  ravaged pussy begin to spasm again and again, milking his cock, pulling his cum deeper into you, flooding you with ripples of pleasure. You moaned and writhed, riding the crest of one orgasm only to feel a second one begin to climb and then crash over you. Breathless, almost sobbing from the pleasure, you let him hold you as he continued to pound into you, draining his balls into you at his will, lost in the utter bliss of a man taking a woman in the most primal way.

When he could bear it no longer, when his exquisitely sensitive cock throbbed within you and the pleasure bordered on pain, he stilled, finally, and shuddered. Sharp spasms of pleasure shot through him as his cock surged one last time within you, his aching balls emptying every last ounce of come. Bucky was almost lightheaded, his chest heaving, sweat glazing his skin as he withdrew his hand from your hair and ran it down the center of your back, needing to touch you, needing to feel your heated skin. You were breathless too, your back moving beneath his hand as you lay your head down and tried to catch your breath.

You felt him withdraw from you, and your  pussy rebelled, clenching to keep him there, as if pleading with him not to go. Bucky groaned softly against your ear as he pulled out and fell on the bed beside you, his arms surrounding you and pulling your back against him. You fit perfectly together, and every muscle in your body relaxed as you snuggled into him and breathed out a contented sigh. You felt his lips on the shell of your ear, kissing softly, felt his slowing breath against your skin as his soft sounds of contentment and pleasure hummed in his throat.

This is heaven, you thought. Pure heaven. your pussy twitched and tingled as you felt his warm come beginning to slip down your  inner thighs. His strong arms surrounded you, his soft lips murmured and whispered and kissed, his spent cock nestled against the curve of your ass.

“There was something I wanted to tell you, remember?” he murmurs, his words brushing warmly against your skin as he kisses a path down to your shoulder. “Last night… something I wanted to say to you. Something I wanted you to know.”

You shift slightly, turning to look at him, your heart pounding as you search his eyes, barely able to breathe. 

“Tell me,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea.

His gaze softens, an unmistakable warmth filling his expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. 

“I love you.”

The words settle between you, simple but perfect, like they were always meant to be there. Your heart feels like it’s soaring, every nerve in your body alive with the thrill of it, of finally hearing what you’d been aching to hear.

You break into a smile, biting your lip, feeling giddy and light, and without a second thought, you lean forward, kissing him softly, your hand finding his as you whisper back, “I love you too.”

And as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that feels like home, you realize that, for the first time, everything feels right.

tags: @cereal6666 @thatesqcrush @cl7ire @bighappypiels @mostlymarvelgirl

@winchestert101 @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mcira @elvenrin

@xunquish-blog @meetmeattheapt

[curlycow01]

Only you

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Summary: You and the Winter soldier escape hydra together, and feelings for each other are revealed along the way

Meanings: солдат - soldier

Series Masterlist

Read part 2 here

Out of all the test subjects Hydra gave the serum to, only you survive. You and Soldat were the perfect soldiers of Hydra, their greatest weapons. They brainwash you both, but they overdo yours, and break your mind, making you forget all the memories pre serum, the life you previously had.

Hydra sends you both on missions to assassinate high level targets and you both end up saving each other's lives a lot of times, creating this weird dynamic. Even through the fragments of your mind, you seek the Soldat's presence, his powerful stance and intimidating silence, drawing you to him as your only sense of comfort.

No matter how many times Hydra wipes his memories, his feelings for you don't go away. When he realizes he cares about you, he's determined to find a way to save you.

Decades pass and one day Soldat returns from a mission. Looks like he didn't complete it as his metal arm had sustained heavy internal damage. He seems a bit off as you observe him from a corner. Alexander Pierce enters the room and asks him for the mission report.

The soldat doesn't reply, lost in thought. Pierce hits him on the face, the sound echoing through the room. You feel a flash of anger. "The man on the bridge" he says quietly to pierce, his face having a genuine expression of curiosity. "Who was he?"

"You met him earlier this week on another assignment." Pierce answers. "I knew him" Soldst's voice had a hint of faraway recognition. Pierce is clearly not happy. "Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century, and I need you to do it one more time." he takes a small pause. "If you don't do your part I can't do mine, and Hydra can't give the world the freedom it deserves.

The Soldat's face was sad, he pressed his lips for a second before speaking in a defeated tone "But I knew him" Pierce sighs in frustration and gets up from the chair. He looks at him for a moment before turning to the scientists "Prep him" One of them spoke up "But he's been out of cryo freeze too long." "Then wipe him and start over" Pierce answers.

Your heart skips a beat as you hear those words. Pierce leaves. the scientist push Soldat back in the chair. Machines attach themselves onto his head, cackling with electricity.

You grip the railing tightly as his horrific screams echoed through the room, his naked chest heaving with heavy breathing. Guards come and escort you elsewhere, but his screams were still ringing through your ears.

Hours later

You opened your eyes and stepped out of the cryo freeze, to see the scientists panicking and few armed guards shuffling around uncomfortably.

The head Doctor spoke up "This doesn't change anything. We still have one supersoldier left. The Asset's failure, though frustrating, is not a complete disaster. Captain America is dead. The collision of the helicarriers killed both of them."

Your blood runs cold as the sentence sinks in. A small gasp escapes your lips at the fact that he's gone. He couldn't be, you didn't want to believe it. The Doctor notices your gasp and turns to you with a darkened expression. "Look at this" he says in a mocking tone "You've grown feelings for him, have you?" he scoffs " Having emotions makes you weak. We've lost the Soldat, but we can still use you, make you the next perfect soldier"

You're frozen in place as the Doctor reveals the truth. "Wipe her" he commands the guards in an emotionless voice. You're still rooted to the ground as the guards approach you. They roughly push you into the chair and lock restraints around your wrists.

Your heart is thundering in your chest as the electrocuting machines on either side of your head are switched on with a small hum of electricity. Adrenaline courses through your veins as the contraption starts coming close to you. You shut your eyes tightly, bracing for the pain.

You feel the cool metal closing around your head for a second, then a huge wave of blinding pain shoots through you, it's like the voltage of an electric chair dialed up to 11. Your cries of pain fall on deaf ears, and you barely survive the first wave. Tears streak down your cheeks as you waited for the second wave. But it never comes.

You slowly open your eyes, still blurry with tears. You can't hear much due to the ringing in your ears, but you can make out that the machine's stopped. A loud crash breaks through the ringing, and you try to blink away the tears to see what's going on.

You see the soldat plowing through the guards and the terrified scientists. The way he was landing his punches was in pure rage, nothing like you've ever seen him before. You try to move, but you were tightly bound by the restraints. Your breathing was still ragged, the first wave left you with little energy.

Gentle fingers brush against your cheek, you snap your head from the restraints to see your savior. "солдат?" your voice is low and hoarse as you gaze into his piercing blue eyes, which were laced with concern. "Bucky" he says as he starts freeing you from the restraints.

You try to stand, but your knees were wobbly, Bucky swiftly grabs your arm to steady you. His eyes scan you for any other injuries. "I should have gotten here sooner" he says grimly, his hand wrapped around yours protectively. "They said that you died" you say slowly, looking up at him "They said the crash killed you, but you survived. Why didn't you run?"

"I couldn't leave" Bucky answers, his gaze softening as he continues "Not without you. Not when you were still trapped." His metal arm reached up and brushed some hair that had fallen over your face, this action made your stomach flip. The atmosphere between you two changed.

"So, uh" you say awkwardly, breaking the silence "Where do we go now?" "I have a place in Romania. We should be safe there." He answers.

"Great" You're trying to sound like you're okay, even though you were anything but okay on the inside, all of these emotions swirling inside of you. He could never know you think he'll never feel the same

You started walking to the exit, but Bucky caught your arm. You turned to him "Aren't we leaving?" He took a deep breath before speaking "Before I killed the Doctor, he said that you had grown attached to me and" he paused for a moment and blinked slowly "that you had feelings for me"

Your breath slightly hitched as he finally learnt your secret. "He also tried to insult you, but I snapped his neck before he could finish the sentence" Bucky takes a step closer to you. "Is that true? That- that you have feelings for me?" he asks slowly. You only nodded, not knowing what to say.

"How long?" As you're thinking what to say, you suddenly realize that he's standing close to you, his lips only inches away. how you would love to- woah. Wait a minute. You snap out of your thoughts and rasp out "A while"

His flesh hand reached out and lightly traced your jaw with his fingers "Why didn't you say anything? he asks softly. You hesitated for a moment "I- I thought you didn't feel the same, because hydra removed emotions-" "Hydra couldn't take away this." He interrupted. His hand stilled and pulled away from your jaw. "They couldn't take you away from me. They didn't change the way I feel about you."

His metal arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Before you could realize what's happening. his lips were on yours. Your lips perfectly molded his, moving in sync. His other hand moved to the back of your head, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss.

His muscular frame covered you completely as his tongue brushed against your lip, silently asking for entry. You parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside. His tongue danced against yours as his hand moved through your hair.

You both pulled away after a few moments for air. Bucky's metal arm was tracing circles on your hip. "I'll never let them hurt you again" He whispers "I'll always keep you safe." He looks at you with utmost love and affection in his sky-blue eyes.

"Do you think we can make this work?" You whisper back, taking his hand in your own "The world won't accept this. They won't accept us. "Screw the world" Bucky replies firmly and squeezes your hand in reassurance "I don't care about the world, what they say or want, I don't." He intertwines his fingers with yours.

"I only care about you"

[buckyssoldat]

Quiet moments (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: After witnessing her former lover with a teammate, she distances herself from the Avengers. She finds unexpected support in Bucky Barnes, and as their friendship deepens, they discover a profound connection that leads to healing and love.

Word count: 2.4k

Requested: No

Warnings: emotional themes, slowburn, mature content

A/N: Here’s part 2 to ‘She used to be mine’ (Sharon Carter x Reader). Also, please check my series ‘Forsaken - The Fallen Soldier’. Feedback is always appreciated, don’t be shy to share your thoughts on this :)

After painfully watching Steve and Sharon fall in love, she kept her distance from them and the Avengers. The betrayal still stung, and it was hard to forget how everything fell apart, especially when her feelings were as raw as the day it happened. However, it wasn’t just Sharon’s kiss with Steve that haunted her – it was the realization that she had lost more than just a lover, she had lost her sense of belonging.

But Bucky, who had quietly witnessed her heartbreak, was more attentive than she realized. It started with small things. He’d check in on her when they had missions, asking how she was holding up, offering a reassuring smile when the weight of her feelings threatened to overwhelm her. He didn’t push her to talk about it – he just made himself present, a quiet but steady support.

In the months that followed, as the worked together on missions, they naturally began to spend more time together. Their shared silence spoke louder than words. They both understood loss, pain, and betrayal. Bucky, with his checkered past and constant search for redemption, seemed to understand her in ways that no one else could.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting mission, they found themselves alone in a safehouse in Eastern Europe. The others had gone to bed, but neither of them could sleep. She sat by the window, watching the soft rain fall against the glass. It had been a long day, her emotions worn thin from the stress of the mission, and memories of Sharon floated to the surface once again. She clenched her jaw, willing the feelings away.

Bucky entered the room, silently making his way to the kitchen. He poured two mugs of tea and approached her, sitting beside her without a word. He handed her one of the mugs, and they sat in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the rain.

“Do you ever feel like you’re drowning in memories?” she finally asked, her voice soft, almost a whisper.

Bucky sighed, his eyes fixed on the rain outside. “Every day.”

She glanced at him, searching his face. His expression was calm, but she could see the tension in his jaw, the quiet storm he constantly battled inside. Bucky had been through so much, yet here he was – still fighting, still standing. It gave her a strange sense of comfort.

“You’re not alone in that,” he added, turning to meet her gaze. His blue eyes, so often shadowed by his past, were filled with understanding. “But you don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

For the first time in a long while, she felt the weight on her chest loosen. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make her breathe a little easier.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Their partnership on missions grew stronger, but so did their friendship. She found herself confiding in him more often, sharing pieces of her life and her past that she hadn’t told anyone. In return, Bucky shared his own stories – stories of his time as the Winter Soldier, of the guilt he carried, and the nightmares that still plagued him.

They became inseparable, always sitting together during briefings, sharing meals, and often finding themselves in quiet conversations late into the night. It was as though the two of them had formed an unspoken pact to help each other heal.

The shift between friendship and something deeper didn’t happen overnight. It was gradual, subtle, hidden in small moments that didn’t seem to mean much at the time, but eventually built into something unbreakable.

It started in little gestures.

When they returned from missions, Bucky always made sure she had everything she needed, whether it was a cup of coffee waiting for her in the morning or an extra pillow on the plane for those long, uncomfortable flights. At first, she thought nothing of it. Bucky was a kind man, even if he tried to hide it behind his often stoic exterior. But it wasn’t just the small kindnesses that caught her attention – it was the way his presence seemed to quiet her mind, to calm the chaos in her heart. He didn’t need to say much, just being there was enough.

The first time she noticed her feeling for Bucky shift, it was on a cold evening in Bucharest. They had just returned from a particularly tough mission, and Bucky, who had grown up in New York’s winters, seemed unaffected by the dropping temperature. She, on the other hand, was freezing. They walked side by side, their breath coming out in clouds, and she tried to rub warmth into her arms.

Without a word, Bucky stopped, shrugged off his leather jacket, and draped it over her shoulders. She looked up at him, surprised, and found him giving her a small, lopsided smile. “You look like you’re freezing,” he said, his voice soft. “Can’t have you turning into a popsicle.”

His jacket was warm, carrying the lingering scent of him – clean, with a hint of leather. She felt a strange flutter in her chest, something she hadn’t felt in years. Her breath caught as she realized how close he was standing, how his fingers lingered on her shoulders as he adjusted the jacket. Her heart raced, but she didn’t pull away.

“Thanks, Bucky,” she murmured, and he just gave her another one of those small smiles that made her knees feel a little weak.

They continued walking, but something had changed. That jacket felt like more than just a simple act of kindness. It felt like Bucky saw her, really saw her, and cared enough to make sure she was comfortable, even when he didn’t need to.

The next moment happened a few weeks later, when they were both back at the compound, taking some well-deserved downtime. They were sitting in the lounge, watching a movie neither of them was particularly interested in. She sat on one end of the couch, and Bucky sat on the other. Despite the space between them, she could feel his presence like a magnet, pulling her attention toward him.

About halfway through the movie, she glanced over and found him already looking at her. It wasn’t awkward – it was like he had been waiting for her to notice. He smiled, a little embarrassed to be caught staring, and she couldn’t help but smile back. There was something so gentle about the way he looked at her, like she was something precious.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice quiet in the dim light of the room.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m good.”

He didn’t press, but she could see the concern in his eyes. Bucky was always careful with her, always mindful of how she was feeling. It was one of the things she admired about him, one of the things that made her realize how different he was from anyone she’d ever known.

That night, as they sat together in comfortable silence, she realized that Bucky made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t just that he was physically strong – though that helped – it was the way he listened, the way he cared, the way he made her feel like she wasn’t alone in her struggles. And maybe that was when it hit her: she was falling for him.

But the moment that solidified it came one rainy afternoon. They were on another mission, this time in Paris. It was supposed to be a routine recon, but things had gone sideways, and they ended up having to hole up in a small, plain safehouse on the outskirts of the city. The rain was coming down in sheets, and they were soaked to the bone by the time they got inside.

Bucky had grabbed a towel from the bathroom and handed it to her without a word, his eyes scanning her to make sure she wasn’t hurt. She took it gratefully, drying her hair as she sat down on the edge of the bed. Bucky leaned against the wall, watching her with the same quiet intensity he always had. It made her feel exposed, like he could see straight through the heart of her.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” she said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “You don’t have to worry so much.”

“I’m not worried,” he replied, his lips quirking into a small smile. But his eyes said otherwise.

He came over and sat down beside her on the bed, close enough that their shoulders were almost touching. They were both tired, both drained from the mission, but sitting there, together, it didn’t feel so bad. It felt… right.

“Do you ever think about what life would be like if we weren’t doing this?” she asked suddenly, not really sure why the question popped into her head.

Bucky looked at her, his brow furrowing slightly. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But I don’t think I’d be good at anything else.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I don’t believe that. You’re good at a lot of things, Bucky. You just don’t give yourself enough credit.”

He didn’t respond right away, but when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “I guess I just feel like this… all of this, it’s all I know.”

She turned to face him, her heart aching for him. She understood that feeling, the way the past could weigh on you, make you feel like you didn’t deserve anything more than the life you had. But Bucky… he deserved so much more.

“I think you’re a lot more than you think you are,” she said softly, reaching out to place her hand on his. His metal arm was cool beneath her touch, but his flesh hand was warm, grounding her.

Bucky looked at her, his eyes searching hers, and for a moment, the world outside the rain-filled windows disappeared. It was just them, sitting together on that bed, the weight of everything they’d been through heavy in the air between them. But it wasn’t the bad kind of weight – it was the kind that comes from shared experiences, from understanding each other in ways that no one else could.

“I think you’re more than what you think you are, too,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

She swallowed hard, feeling her heart race as she realized how close they were sitting, how easily their hands fit together. She didn’t want to pull away. She didn’t want to pretend like there wasn’t something happening between them. But it was scary, falling for someone again, after everything she’d been through. After Sharon.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

Bucky’s eyes softened, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to be. I’m not going anywhere.”

That was it. The moment. The promise he made her, that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he’d wait for her, that he understood. It wasn’t grand or dramatic. It was simple, quiet, but it meant the world to her. Because Bucky wasn’t just offering her love – he was offering her time, patience, and understanding. And that was something she hadn’t had in a long time.

The days that followed were filled with more of those little moments. The way he’d smile at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, the way he’d always make sure she had her favourite coffee in the morning, the way his hand would brush against hers when they walked together, sending sparks through her.

There was the time they were stuck in a tiny village in Sokovia, waiting for extraction after a mission. The power had gone out, and they sat together by candlelight, playing cards and laughing over nothing in particular. Bucky had leaned back in his chair, watching her as she giggled over winning yet another hand.

“You’re cheating,” he teased, his grin widening as she playfully protested.

“I’m not!” she laughed, trying to hold back the smile on her face. “You’re just bad at this game!”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, his voice filled with warmth.

And then there was the time they were on a mission in the mountains, and a snowstorm forced them to take shelter in a tiny cabin. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a soft glow over the room as they sat side by side on the floor. She rested her head on his shoulder, exhausted from the day’s events, and Bucky gently wrapped his arm around her, holding her close.

They didn’t speak much, but they didn’t need to. The silence between them was comfortable, filled with unspoken words and shared feeling that neither of them were quite ready to say out loud yet. But it was there. They both felt it.

And then, one evening, back at the compound, after months of stolen glances, lingering touches, and quiet confessions, they found themselves standing in the kitchen late at night. The rest of the team was asleep, the compound eerily quiet. She was making tea, and Bucky stood beside her, his eyes fixed on her every movement.

She turned to him, holding out a cup, and their hands brushed. The touch was electric, sending a jolt of warmth through her. She looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat as she saw the way he was looking at her – like she was the only person in the world.

And that was when she knew. She didn’t just care for Bucky – she was in love with him.

The realization hit her like a wave, and before she could stop herself, she leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a soft, tentative kiss.

For a moment, Bucky was still, as if he couldn’t believe it was happening. But then, his hands came up to cup her face, and he kissed her back, deeply, passionately, like he had been waiting for this moment just as long as she had.

When they finally pulled way, both were breathless, their foreheads pressed together as they tried to catch their breath.

“I love you,” she whispered, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

Bucky smiled, his eyes filled with so much warmth, so much love, that it took her breath away all over again. “I love you, too.”

And just like that, everything changed. They weren’t just friends anymore – they were something more. Something real. Something that had been building for months, in all those small moments that seemed insignificant at the time but had led them there, to that. To love.

From that moment on, they were inseparable. In Bucky’s arms, she felt safe, loved, and whole. And that was more than she had even dared to hope for.  

masterlist

[urfavfakeblonde]

ₘy fₐᵥₒᵣᵢₜₑ ₛcₐᵣ pt.1

what happens when two ex-hydra soldiers and The Falcon go after the Flag Smasher Group, especially after the past?

Warnings: violence, cursing??

I glance up from my hiding spot in the storage house at the sound of two voices coming from the hall. Faintly, I heard someone say, "Hello, how are you?" With a scoff, the other one whispered, "Good. What'd I miss? Nothin'." I roll my eyes as I realize who it is, the sarcasm is enough of an indicator. I round the container, keeping quiet as they continued to bicker about how many people were loading the truck outside. I pop up next to Sam, glancing at the man loading the truck.

"There's 5 of them," I whisper cooly as Sam jumps back in shock. Bucky's eyes widen as I keep my stare forward at the mission. "The hell is your problem?" He asks glaring at me. I glare back at him and stand up fully. "You told me to meet you here," I say as my hands gesture to the storage unit. Sam settles back into his spot as he fiddles with his arm monitor for Red Wing. "Didn't have pop up like a fuckin' creep," he mumbles. "Didn't tell me she was coming, you wouldn't even let me come," Bucky bickers. Sam shoots him a look with a chuckle. "Yeah, well she's nicer than you even if she scares the shit outta me sometimes," he whispers.

Suddenly, something dropped on the ground and the loaders stopped moving the boxes. We all duck down, watching quietly. Soon enough, the trucks start to leave the unit, and Sam gives the go signal. Bucky and I run quickly to keep up with the trucks as Sam flies over. As Bucky gets on the back of the first one, I get on the last, opening the containers. Inside, I don't find anything but boxes of vaccines. With a sigh, I start to climb up the truck to get on top. Suddenly, I hear a crash with a groan as the truck wobbles. "Shit!" I seethe, seeing men with masks coming out of both trucks and up top. Bucky finds his way onto the top of the truck, watching as a man lunges at me. I duck as Sam kicks him over, letting him hang off the side. Glancing down the truck at Bucky, he starts to fight a man in a mask, while one grabs me from behind. He throws me forward, fist landing beside my head. My legs lock around his torso, flipping him over as I grab my knife from its holder. I plug it at his head as he grabs my wrist, snarling in the mask. I groan in frustration, kicking him in the side to push him off. He stands up, holding his side until Bucky plunges at him.

I breathe heavily, stabbing my knife behind me into another man's stomach. He screams, falling onto the truck. Turning around, two men have Bucky in the hold as Red Wing flies at the red-headed girl in the mask. She grabs it, breaking it over her knee. "I always wanted to do that," I hear Bucky groan as the girl turns around. As Bucky gets the men off of him, the girl kicks him off the side of the truck, a high-pitched screech coming from his metal arm scraping the side of it. "That little girl kicked your ass!" Sam laughs, flying around the side of the truck as Bucky yells at him. Suddenly, the girl comes at me, blocking her with my arms. I kick her in the stomach which causes her to recoil back, glaring at me through her mask. A loud roar of an engine comes down the road, a shield flying through the air. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was, his booming voice muffled in my ringing ears. "You've gotta be kidding me," I sigh. As John Walker fights the men, I sit on the end of the truck to watch with a sarcastic smile. "You gonna help?" He yells. "No, I'll watch," I say with a smile until I hear a yell as I glance over my shoulder, Sam plunging under the trucks to grab Bucky as they tumble into the field. I stand back up and continue to fight, ending shortly as the girl shoves me off the side of the truck. I scream, tumbling into the grass, and rolling down the small hill as I land with a groan. Catching my breath, I stare up at the sky. Eventually, the same two bickering voices come near, groggy standing up with a groan. I slowly walked back up to the road, meeting up with the two men. "That was a really shitty plan Sam," I say, dusting off the grass from my pants. He rolls his eyes as I walk alongside him and Bucky, headed to the main road. "Sorry about Red Wing," Bucky finally says to break the silence. "No your not," Sam shoots back without even glancing at him. They continue to bicker about cyborgs and random shit as the same stupid car comes rolling up the road from behind us. We all knew who it was, glaring as we kept our focus forward. "Yall need a ride?" His annoying voice asked. It was almost condescending actually. We stayed silent as he opened the back door, closing it as we walked past him. "Oh come on, it's like 20 miles until the main road." He says, opening the door again. "Just get in." We stopped walking glancing at each other. My eyes stayed locked with Bucky's for an uncomfortable amount of time before getting in the truck.

As John blabbers about something stupid, I'm sure, I can't help but notice Bucky's thigh against mine. The truck isn't all that big; John and another man are on one side, and Sam, Bucky, and I are on the other. Sam argues with John as Bucky stares him down, earning a "Does he always stare like that?" from "Mr. Captain America." On the other hand, I stare out the back of the truck, watching the road. "And who is she?" I hear John's friend say, causing the group of men to go quiet. Reluctantly turning my attention to him I raise my brow. "Who are you?" I say sarcastically in return with a scoff. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, blinking a few times. "I'm Battlestar, Captain America sidekick," he says proudly. Bucky scoffs next to me and I let out a snort. "Battlestar?" Bucky repeats as he looks him up and down. After an awkward silence, Sam starts to say something but Bucky interrupts. "Stop the car!" He yells getting up to leave. "Oh, come on Bucky! We need to work as a team!" John says, hands waving in the air. The truck comes to a stop and Bucky gets out as I follow. Sam and John continue to argue before he eventually follows us up the path. Soon enough, the truck putters away and we head to the town.

[smoooothoperator]

Die With A Smile

04: Wake Me Up

Bucky Barnes x mutant!OC (Astrid Rowan)

HYDRA victims, found family, "strangers" to lovers, emotional scars, first love

Masterlist

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a/n: Hey guys how are you doing?? Did you all watch the new THUNDERBOLTS* trailer???👀👀

The night was cold and dark. I would have casted a small flame to warm myself, but I knew it would put us in danger. The only thing that kept us in disguise were the snowflakes. My breath was heavy and my heart pounded against my chest violently. I could feel him behind me, his warm body and warm breath hitting the side of my face.

“Stay close” he murmured, with a deep and raspy voice, but there was a softness in it too, something that always made me feel safe and protected.

I turned my head slightly, watching that black mask that covered half of his face and those blue eyes that always knew what I was thinking.

He moved slowly, and I could feel his right hand on my shoulder, squeezing it softly as a sign of reassurance. His touch was rough, but careful, protective. I always wanted to lean into it, trying to find a safe space, as if he was the only thing keeping me sane and safe. My gaze shifted down to where his hand was and without thinking, I reached out intertwining my fingers with his on top of my shoulder.

“We go in three… two…” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear.

With goosebumps all over my body I focused on what we had in front of us, and the fire in my hands started to tickle me, knowing that I was ready to attack.

And then, we moved as one.

I followed his pace, slipping through the shadows, following his lead as we moved through a dense forest. Our movements were silent and calculated.

When we arrived at the main door, he gave me a slow nod, making me raise my hand. I let my fingertips brush the cold metal of the chain, and the heat started to radiate through my arm. Flames came out of my hand, melting the metal and making the chain fall to the ground, melting the snow with it. 

Inside, guards showed up, alerted by the opening of the doors. My partner sprinted in front of me with precise and lethal movements, and I followed him, feeling how my left arm tickled with ice in my veins while my left hand still felt on fire. A subtle movement of my left arm sent a silver of frost racing across the floor, trapping one of the guards inside of a block of ice.

The man that came with me took advantage and moved to the next guard, stabbing him and shooting him with a gun. 

His hand found mine, grounding me as we paused in a doorway. I felt my powers lower until they were harmless for him, paying attention to his movements.

“You okay?” he whispered, looking down at my hands, one of them cold and the other warm. “Together we’re unstoppable, huh?”

I nodded and smiled, and then we focused on the next room. Flames danced around me, burning whatever my mind wanted. I moved my left hand and I searched for it, for blood. I made a fist with my left hand and immediately I saw how the guards in front of me stopped moving, with eyes full of panic watching how my partner moved towards them and cut their throats. 

As we moved deeper into the building, I sensed a shift. We had completed the mission, but I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay beside him. 

He paused by a broken window, moonlight casting a silvered glow across his form. My hand reached out instinctively, finding his shoulder, fingers pressing into the hard muscle beneath his coat. His hand rose to cover mine, and for a moment, we stood in silence, listening to the world go quiet around us.

“We’re going to be okay” he whispered, as if he was telling me a secret.

I nodded, unable to respond with words. My throat was tight, and my heart hammered with a beat that felt less like adrenaline and more like fear. He pulled me closer and I let myself lean into his warmth, inhaling his scent, that faint hint of metal and leather. My arms wrapped around his waist pressing my body pressing to his, feeling his heartbeat against my own.

“I don’t want to go back” I whisper, feeling panic, knowing what will happen next.

His silence speaks, and I knew he was thinking the same. Instead, he pulls me closer, his forehead resting against mine.

“I won’t let them hurt you”  he whispered, taking off his mask. “They won’t touch you”

“But…”

“It will be okay” he whispered, pressing his lips against my forehead. holding me tighter. “I will be okay, Aetheris”

And after that innocent kiss, everything turned black, like I was a machine turned off, fainting and falling into his arms.

“Wake me up, Aetheris” that voice said. “You know how to fix me. I’m ready”

A loud gasp broke the silence of the room while I woke up from the dream. My body was drenched in sweat and the sheets were twisted around me as if I had been fighting something in my sleep. 

The memory of his voice was still echoing in my mind, hearing that familiar deep and raspy voice filled with both danger and warmth. I could feel his presence as if he had slipped through the walls between dreams and reality.

My hands were shaking as I ran them over my face, trying to calm my breathing. That face that had been a blur before during all the training I had with Okoye, that one hidden behind a shadow and a black mask, was now crystal clear. The strands of brown dark hair falling against his forehead, the way his lips curved into a slight smile whenever he called with that name. The same hair and lips I have been seeing all over a week.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, pressing my bare feet against the cold floor. I looked at my room, watching the things that now decorate it. In the ledge of the window there are a few plants I bought yesterday in the market, as well as some animals carved in wood. On top of the desk there’s a small box with food for cats just in case I cross paths with another one of them.And in the wardrobe there are plenty of clothes Shuri ordered for me and the uniform Okoye gave me.

Without thinking much, I grabbed a simple dark violet dress and slipped in it, looking at myself in the mirror. The last few days I noticed things about me, since it was the first time I saw my reflection. The beauty mark under my left eye was something I always looked at, as well as the scar that crosses my lips. And my bright blue eyes somehow always matched with the clothes I wear.

I tied my hair in a braid and walked out of the room, adjusting the Kimoyo beads around my wrist. My heart pounded as I made my way down the hall, my footsteps nearly silent in the early morning stillness. The palace was alive, with the servants and the guards walking around the corridors, all of them greeting me with the now familiar Wakandian salute.

I couldn’t explain the urgency I felt, so when I saw one of the women that works in Shuri’s laboratory walking into one of the jets I didn’t doubt it and walking behind her, smiling awkwardly at her and sitting in one of the chairs. 

As soon as the jet landed, I made my way into the building. Moving on instinct, I headed to the cryo room, the lights of the hallway lighting up with every step I made further into it. The door opened slowly as I stood in front of it and the light inside of the room turned on.

The room was cold as always, making me shiver as I walked closer to the capsule. I rested my forehead against the glass, my breath fogging the surface in small clouds. My fingers pressed against it, and suddenly a rush of images filled my mind.

The cold night. The heat of flames dancing on my fingertips. His hand on my shoulder, steady and reassuring. The two of us moving through a forest, in sync, silent, deadly. 

His quiet laugh as he whispered my name.

“Aetheris”

His face was fully clear now, unmasked and open. The lines of his face, the blue of his eyes, the way he looked at me as if I were his entire world in the moments we were together.

It had been real. We had been real.

I closed my eyes, and more images surfaced, each one sharper than the last. Him and I in that dark, a snow covered forest, sharing a quiet moment between missions. The way he held me, like I was his anchor, something grounding him in a world of shadows. The way he always kissed my forehead before everything went dark.

With a shiver, I opened my eyes slowly, grounding myself in the present, but my hand remained against the glass.

“Soldat” I whisper, my voice a soft whisper in the quiet room as I pronounced the way I used to call him. “Oh, soldat…”

I looked at his face and the memories started to come into my mind slowly, making me feel dizzy and nauseous.

“All this time… They erased you from my mind” I whisper. “Everything, all the memories, our missions… Why?”

It had been two days since those memories of the soldat, of Bucky, came to me fragment by fragment, each of them leaving me more confused and yet more satisfied in a way I hadn’t felt before.

 I hadn’t told anyone. Not Shuri, not T’Challa, not even Okoye. It felt like I was standing on the edge of something I couldn’t control, a deep abyss between what I remembered and what I didn’t. Each day, the memories came in as pieces of a puzzle I wasn’t sure I wanted to complete.

I couldn’t ignore that pull, that link between him and I.He was alive, waiting for something I wasn’t even sure I fully understood.

“Astrid, are you coming? I need your help in the lab” Shuri’s voice sounded in the bracelet. “Astrid?”

“Y-yeah, I’m on my way”

I hadn’t expected it, but there was something about the urgency in her tone that made me drop everything. It wasn’t often Shuri asked for help directly, especially not from someone like me. She was the genius here, the one who fixed things, who found solutions.

I didn’t speak as I walked down the hallway of the Wakandan lab, nodding slowly to the people that crossed my path. My mind was still spiraling. The weight of the last few days pressed down on me, but I didn’t know how to talk about it. How can I explain everything? How can I explain him without sounding like a traitor?

“You’ve been avoiding me the last few days sShe looked up as I entered and her eyes narrowed slightly as she observed my hesitation.

I didn’t know how to answer her. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was afraid or because I was too confused by what I had started to realize. I had no control over the memories that kept slipping through the cracks in my mind.

“I’ve just been thinking” I finally said, my voice low. “About... About everything. About the sargent, too”

“You’ve been here long enough. If you’re going to tell me something, Astrid, now is the time” she said, raising an eyebrow, stepping closer to me.

“I… The last few days, some memories came back” I sighed. “Not only during the lessons with Okoye. In my sleep I have flashbacks. And… When I go to the cryo room”

She looked at me, tilting slightly her head to the side, listening to me. She crossed her arms in front of her chest as she sat at the edge of a working table. I could see some of the workers in the room leaving, making me take a deep breath to continue.

“He’s…. he’s not just someone I fought with” I started, feeling my breath quicken. “Bucky... was my partner. We-” I stopped, swallowing hard. “We were... together, I think. I remember our missions, how we worked together, and we were… Perfect. But I think HYDRA erased everything from him in my mind, like he never existed. I don’t know why… I hear him, Shuri. In my dreams, he was the voice that kept me awake all the time, the voice that guides me through Okoye’s lessons, and the voice that leads me to the cryo room”

“So that’s why his brain activity spikes whenever you’re near him” she murmured, almost to herself.

Her expression softened and stepped closer to me, placing her hands on my shoulders. My breath started to be normal again and I sighed smiling weakly at her.

“Tell me everything, Astrid. I’m here to help” she said, squeezing my shoulders softly.

I hesitated for a moment longer, but then I let everything spill out. I told her about the missions, the shared moments of warmth in the cold. I explained how I remembered the connection between us, the pull I felt toward him. I spoke of how I thought I could wake him up, that the link we shared was something more than just memories. 

“So, you’re saying you can trigger his awakening? That you have some kind of connection to him?” she asked, looking back at the screens. 

“I think so, yeah” I nodded. “I don’t know how exactly, but I feel like if I just… if I could touch him, really connect with him, maybe it would be enough."

"We’ll bring him out of cryo, and if this connection between you is strong enough, it might be exactly what he needs to recover.” she nodded, moving to the control screen.

Together, we walked to the cryo room. My heart was going fast, beating against my rib cage hard like a drum. Shuri walked towards the screens next to the capsule, working in it.  I saw the capsule’s glass slowly lifting, the chill of the cryo vapor swirling out into the room. I took a step forward, my pulse quickening as I approached him, unable to take my eyes off the man who had been a ghost in my mind and was now real and right here in front of me.

“Alright, Astrid” Shuri said gently, watching me closely. "Try to reach him. Trust whatever that instinct is inside you.”

With a trembling hand, I reached out and laid my fingers on his chest, just above his heart. His skin was cool beneath my touch, and I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I closed my eyes, reaching for that energy, that strange warmth I had felt before with my fire.

But as I poured my energy into him, my hand tingling with the familiar warmth, his body remained still, his eyes closed. The seconds stretched painfully, and I started to feel tired and weak.

 “Sometimes it takes a while for people to come back after cryo,” Shuri said softly, though I could sense the uncertainty in her voice. "Maybe he needs time, or maybe it’s something deeper that’s holding him back”

I pulled my hand away reluctantly, fighting against the helplessness that threatened to overwhelm me.

I failed.

"What now?" I whispered, feeling that I was on the edge of something fragile, that one wrong move could shatter everything.

Shuri looked down at Bucky and then at me, taking a deep breath while she played with the rings on her fingers.

“There’s a small house by the lake, not far from here. It’s quiet, peaceful. It might be a better place for him to rest and recover, and for you to… continue trying, if you feel that pull again.” her expression softened, her understanding of my connection to Bucky more profound than I expected. “I’ll arrange for him to be moved there. If there’s any chance this bond you share can reach him, maybe the calm surroundings will help.”

I nodded slowly, playing with the tip of my braid. I looked at him and sighed.

He has to wake up. I need answers.

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@alltoomaples @jadeofspadesxp @leptitlu @deliciousfestsalad @mendes-bae

[wintersxldiers]

Heyyyy

I already messaged @lafleshlumpeater this ask but I thought I should do it to as many people as I could (esp bc ik ur a Bucky stan)

Could you do a sad reader bc she has period cramps and concerned Bucky who has done his hw to help his girl every way he can. (Some smut too if you're comfortable) Just fluff, fluff and more fluff

YESS Winter's children UNITE!

thanks for requesting hope you like this but I don't know if I really did this justice.

Warnings: Periods, Fluff and comforting Bucky (Lmk if I missed any) In which Bucky's Doll gets her period and he helps her feel a bit better and does everything he can to make sure his girl feels good.

(PLEASE BEAR WITH ME THIS IS MY FIRST PROPER PUBLIC WRITE SO IT IS CRINGEY)

(Thank you @lafleshlumpeater for proof reading and encouraging me to post this <333 so grateful for you xx)

----------------------------------------------------------------------

You rolled around in pain. Curse these stupid period cramps. You prayed for the moment for Bucky to come home so he could help relieve you of this pain. You needed his cuddles, his kisses, his warmth and his scent. Your favourite thing to do while on your period was to wrap yourself up in his scent. You missed and wanted it all. 

Suddenly you hear the front door slam shut and footsteps in the kitchen.

"Doll, I'm home, where are you?" Bucky said, looking in the living room and bathroom. 'Probably in our bedroom' he thought to himself and walked into the bedroom. There he saw you clutching your stomach and rolling around on the bed. "Baby, what happened? Is it the cramps again?" He asked, holding your face in his hands. He glanced at his phone to check the date and realised you were on your period. "stupid periods" he cursed under his breath. 

Then an idea popped into his head. "Wait there Angel, I'll get you the hot water bottle" and that's exactly what he did. He grabbed the hot water bottle and climbed into bed with you for a while, cradling you in his arms before he decided that he needed to go shopping first. "Bucky please stay here." you mumbled, in pain. He refused and walked out and left the house. 

Bucky returned twenty minutes later with 2 carrier bags full of sweets and chocolates because of your cravings. "Hey baby I'm back with the goods" he chuckled a bit under his breath. "Thank you so much Bucky." you said eternally grateful that he is your boyfriend. "It's nothing Doll, you deserve this and more." he said staring deep into your eyes before standing up and getting you water and medication. 

You took the medication then asked "wanna come lie in bed, watch a movie and eat?" You looked at him hopefully and of course he agreed. He took his jacket off and slipped under the covers. He grabbed you and held you in his arms and you stroked his metal arm softly, your fingers grazing over it. He had his flesh hand rubbing over your belly, almost massaging it. Your head rested on his hard chest.

You loved this comforting side of Bucky, it was refreshing to see especially after you both come back from a mission and he lets his guard down when he steps into the house with you. You looked up and stared at him while he stared at the screen while watching YOUR comfort movie. He could feel your eyes on him and looked down at you, “what’s up Doll?He asked. “Nothing” you replied, “Thank you” you said before landing your lips onto his. “I love you Angel.” He muttered. “I love you too Buck.” You replied.

[tuiccim]

Though I Have Never Read It

Pairing: Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2756

Warnings: Angst, smut, Only one bed

Summary: You had run away from all of your problems and found solitude in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. When a storm blows in, it drags a man with a metal arm through your door. You offer shelter to the handsome stranger.

A/N: Special thanks to my hype princess & beta reader @whisperlullaby.

Though I Have Never Read It Masterlist

You stoked the fire in your tiny cabin, well off the beaten path, in a sparsely populated corner of Estonia, you lived off the grid. Your home consisted of a fireplace, a tiny bathroom that used rainwater, a small bed, comfy chair, a table for two (though it was rarely used), and a shelf of canned and jarred food. You had chosen a solitary life after yours had turned to absolute shit. Escape had seemed to be your only option, and here you kept to yourself. 

Glancing at the wood piled in one corner, you knew with this weather coming in, it would be best to bring in more logs to keep dry. Bundling up, you head out with a lantern and gather as many as you can carry. Back and forth you went in the frigid snow that had begun to fall. Kicking the door closed after your last load, you promised yourself a special treat from your stash.

You peel the layers off and head to lock the door before treating yourself. Just before you reach it, the door is kicked open and in stalks a tall man all in black. You back away quickly as he closes the door and locks it before recognizing your presence. 

“Where am I?” He demands in Russian, removing his eye protection revealing incredibly blue eyes. 

“Eesti,” you say in Estonian.

He nods and moves to crouch in front of the fire. You watch him warily. Where the hell did he come from? Why is he here? Who sent him? Had they found you? You couldn’t stand the silence and ask, still in Estonian, “What do you want?”

He turns his head to you slowly, studies you carefully, and surprisingly speaks in English, “Shelter.”

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart and attempt to come up with a plan. “Are you going to hurt me?”

He removes the mask from the lower half of his face, revealing a razor sharp jawline, but stays silent.

“Did you come here on purpose?”

“No.”

“Are you here for me?”

“No.”

“Do you want something from me?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

He looks at the floor and sighs heavily, “Shelter.”

“Shelter. That’s it?” 

“Yes.”

“Are you lost?”

“Yes.”

“Is someone after you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you hiding?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a blizzard coming in.”

“Yes.”

“You could be stuck here for days.”

He looks at you, surprisingly he seems unperturbed, just resigned. You take another breath and decide that compliance is probably your best bet here. You try a different tactic, “What’s your name?” 

When he doesn’t speak, you give him yours and explain, “I’ve lived here for a few months.” When he still doesn’t engage, you continue, “I was going to make myself some dinner. I should have enough for you, too. I just need to get this pot.” 

With slow movements, you pick up the pot from the hearth and put it on the hook, pushing it close to the fire. You continued slowly while he watched your every move. Grabbing a jar of soup from the shelf, you struggle to open it and when you still hadn’t managed it by the time you made it back to him, he held out his hand. You look at him in surprise. His eyes seem to soften, as if trying to convey his harmless intentions. You hold the jar out to him gingerly and he pops it open with little effort. Your fingers brush his gloved ones as he hands it back, making you shiver at the damp material.  You pour the soup into the pot and push it over the fire to warm. Turning back, you study the man’s clothing and realize they’re wet from the snow. Grabbing towels and an extra blanket, you bring them to him. 

“You need to get out of the wet clothes,” you say gently. 

“I’m fine,” he says quietly. He hadn’t moved from the spot by the fire and was beginning to shiver despite being so close to the source of heat. 

You decide not to push. You knew you should still be frightened at what he might do but he seemed less like a scary intruder and more like a lost little boy. You set out two bowls, spoons, and cups. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt, you pull a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and pour him a stiff drink. When the soup was ready, you served and gently said, “Come to the table. You need to eat.”

He moved, watching you with each step. You sat across from him and motioned to the whiskey, “This’ll help warm you up.”

You ate, staring at your bowl with an occasional glance up at him. Working up your bravery, you try to get him to talk again. “If we’re going to be stuck in here together, it’d be nice to have something to call you.”

He glances away as if searching for something before saying quietly, “Soldat.”

“You’re a soldier? Well, even soldier’s have names,” you try again. 

You jump when he thumps his fist on the table, “I don’t.”

“Okay, okay. Soldat.” You hold up a hand placatingly, but you just couldn’t stop yourself from pushing one more time. “You don’t remember ever being called something else?”

He looked out into the darkness that had fallen outside, seeming to search for something, anything to grab on to. He shook his head as if warding off bad thoughts but then he whispers,”Ja- James?”

“James,” you smile. “Okay, James. Is the soup okay?”

He nods but the expression on his face betrays confusion. You finished the rest of the meal quietly, not wanting to overwhelm him. As you cleared dishes away, he sat still shivering. You told yourself to leave it alone but you also sucked at listening to yourself. You dragged your small bed closer to the fire and pulled back the covers. 

“James,” you say gently. Your heart beats faster as his intense blue gaze meets yours. “You have to get out of those wet clothes. You’re never going to get warm if you don’t. Here, take this towel, dry off your skin, and get in the bed. I’ll wait in the bathroom. Just let me know when you’re done.”

“I-” he halts whatever was about to exit his mouth and instead gives a curt nod. 

You use the bathroom, brush your teeth, and wait. When you hear a halting “okay” from the other room, you emerge. Picking the clothes up from where he had laid them over a chair, you spread them over the rods next to the fireplace to dry more efficiently. Without a second thought, you walked over to him and added another layer of blankets. He watched you, eyes following each movement. 

“Is there anything I can do for you?” you ask. 

“No.”

“Okay,” you settled into your armchair, the only real luxury you gave yourself, and picked up your book. As you turned to your bookmarked page, he spoke. 

“Aloud?”

“You want me to read out loud? Uh, sure,” you looked down at the well-worn copy, and turning back to the first page began reading, “This is my favorite book in all the world, though I have never read it.” You smiled as you glanced up to see his confused expression. “That’s the first line of the book. The Princess Bride by William Goldman.” You continue to read through Buttercup and Westley’s romance while occasionally looking to see James’ reaction. Most of the time there was none but occasionally a corner of his mouth would tip up or down as you went on. When he seemed to be drifting off and your eyes had begun to droop, you put the book to the side, threw another log on the fire, and turned out the oil lamp. Wrapping a blanket around yourself, you settle in to sleep in your chair. 

“No.”

Your head snaps up at the word and you turn to see James trying to get out of the bed. It was obvious he was in some pain and as he sat up you could see the bruises criss crossing his torso, then the mass of scars on his left shoulder that led to a metal arm. Your mouth fell open for a second before you realized what he was trying to say. You jump up to stop him.

“Hey. It’s fine. You need the bed more than I do.”

“No,” he insists. 

“James! Stop,” you put your hand on his right shoulder to keep him in place but pull back when he gasps. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he looks up with such pleading in his eyes it nearly breaks your heart. “Please.”

Gingerly, you reach out to him again and it’s as if his whole body relaxes at your touch. You sit on the side of the bed and stroke the long locks away from his forehead, allowing you a full view of his face. He was incredibly handsome. His eyes slipped closed as you continued to gently run your hands through his hair. When his breathing became even and you thought he had fallen asleep, you pulled your hands away. 

He started awake and stared up at you with wide eyes, “Stay.”

After a momentary hesitation, you slide into the bed and pull the covers over both of you. Much later, after he had been out for a while, you fell asleep with a hand still tangled in his hair. 

–

The warmth of the sun shining down on you was glorious. You looked over at James chopping wood shirtless and smiled at him. When he grinned back your thighs clenched. He was outright the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. He chopped one last log and then laid the ax down. He made his way to you and, rather than shy away, you grinned as he wrapped his arms around you. Your breathing picked up feeling him pressed against you, his cock already hard and rubbing against your middle. James moans causing you to…

…wake up. You realize that your dream was mirroring what was happening in your bed. James' arms were wrapped tightly around you and his hips flexed in rhythm. His moans were making your panties flood as you debate what to do. He shifts and his hard cock rubs directly against your mound eliciting a gasp from you. He stops, his eyes flying open and staring into yours. It was the fear in them that broke you. He looked terrified. You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t know where he was or at what he had been doing but the only thought in your head was to soothe him. Tightening your arms around him, you arch to bring your bodies together and run a hand through his hair. 

His tension melted away. Staring into each other, time seemed to slow down. Your breathing matched and your body seemed to tingle where it touched him. And then, he moved so quickly it made your eyes fly wide open as his mouth took yours. You were keenly aware of his nakedness in contrast to your clothed body when he rolled on top of you and his hips flexed. After a moment, his lips trailed down your neck and a desperate whisper slipped past his lips, a single word, “Please.”

You knew exactly what he’s asking and it scared you and thrilled you at the same time. The thoughts that went through your head were telling you how stupid this whole thing was and, alternatively, to throw caution to the wind for once in your life. He put a hand under your shirt, just enough to feel your bare skin and whispered please again. That solitary word made any resistance, any reason, any thought of stopping him disappear. Instead, you reach for your waistband and push it down as far as you can. His hands take over and get them below your knees. 

You expect him to go fast, to take you in the same rushed way he had kissed you, but he doesn’t. He’s gentle and slow. He slides a hand between your legs and lets out a moan as his fingers explore. You hold on to him tighter and open your legs. When he guides the head of his cock to your entrance, he kisses you again while he slowly presses in. He swallows the whimpers you release as he buries himself inside of you. When he’s fully seated, he pulls back to look you in the eyes as he begins to softly thrust. You let out little gasps and moans as the pleasure builds. 

“So good,” James’ voice is strained as he grinds right against your clit, determined to make you come before he loses himself. Every thrust is taking you closer and when you can feel the spasms beginning, you pull his face back to your neck. He wastes no time, sucking that soft spot just below your ear. You let out a moan that’s foreign to your ears as your orgasm rips through you. You clench down and James’ strokes come a little faster until he grunts at his own release. You lay together until your breathing becomes normal again. 

James rolls to one side to study you before he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you smile at him before awkwardly reaching down to pull your bottoms back up. When you succeed, you slip out of the bed to hand him his clothes. “I’ll, um, I’ll let you get dressed.”

He nods and watches as you scurry to the tiny bathroom. You stare at yourself in the mirror, surprised that you still look exactly the same except the small mark on your neck. You use the bathroom and wash up. Determined to act normally, you decide to make breakfast and walk back into the main cabin. Glancing out the window, you see the snow that had fallen wasn’t as deep as you had worried. Looking over, James is dressed but he stands over the bed, staring at it. He glances up at you and then back at the bed. You see the small bloodstain on the sheets and hurry to snatch the covers over it. With knots in your stomach, you go to stoke the fire. 

James watches you, “You-” He cuts himself off and when you finally look at him, his eyes are trained on the window. 

“What is it?” you ask, watching his face fill with fear. When you finally hear the sounds of vehicles approaching, “James?”

He stares at you before jumping into action, “Get in the bathroom. No matter what happens, do not come out.”

He hadn’t spoken that many words since he showed up the night before and it scared him, “James, what’s happening?”

“They’re coming for me. Go!” He ushers you into the room but before closing the door, he looks at you with sadness and whispers, “Thank you. Stay here. Stay, no matter what.”

It was the tensest ten minutes of your life. You heard the cabin door open and slam shut, some muffled shouting from outside, and then silence. You were just about to peek out when you heard the door again. The sound of furniture being thrown and glass shattering has your heart racing, then the quiet invaded again. A fire crackling was all you could hear and as smoke began to seep under the door, your worst nightmare was confirmed. You try the door and it’s obvious that it had been blocked off. You panic for just a moment before wetting a cloth and covering your face as a makeshift filter. Looking around, you realize the only way out is the door. Using a piece of loose wood from the wall, you manage to get it through the sliver you open in the door. Using it as a wedge, you manage to get the door open wide enough to slip through. Your oil lanterns are shattered and the fire was nearly across the entire room. You grab a blanket near you and manage to climb out of the kitchen window. Looking around, it seems that James is gone along with whoever came after him. You run to your old but serviceable truck. 

Turning back for one last glance, your cabin is already engulfed in flames. Your escape was gone. It must be true, you can't run from your problems. Time to return to New York and see if you can pick up the pieces. 

Part Two

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[httpwintersoldier]

『night visits. pt.2 || winter soldier x reader』

pairing: winter soldier x f!reader words: lenghty summary: usually people find their own interests, but when you are "forecefully recruited" to work under HYDRA, your interest found you first.

『part 1』

To say that you and James Barnes weren't able to keep your hands to yourselves after that first night was a severe understatement. Every chance you got, you'd be entangling your fingers in his hair, and he'd be studying the curves of your body with his hands.

James wasn't sure what love was, but he was pretty sure that if it was going to be something, it was definitely what he felt for you. The feeling of longing when he wasn't with you, the way his stomach felt bubbly when you smiled or laughed, and the increasing fear he felt every day when he went on a mission, the fear of going and not coming back, of leaving you alone with no one to protect you.

It was increasingly hard to maintain the emotionless psycho façade among the HYDRA officials, as you were slowly bringing back who he used to be.

Every day he silently wished he was freed, so he could live with you a different life, a life like the ones he saw others live when he'd walk on the streets seeking to finish a mission.

The soldier would sneak into your room after missions, and that would be your alone time. You would sneak some kisses and touches during your sessions but you didn't want to risk getting caught and putting an early ending to what you had going on.

"I was expecting you, Soldier." You said.

Your back was turned to the door as you looked out the window, but at this point you were used to his entrances and you could feel his presence in the room, even if you were unable to see him.

The man threw his mask on your desk and approached you, hands holding your hips and pulling you back into him.

"Oh yeah?" The man asked, kissing your neck from behind.

You inhaled deeply and hummed positively.

The soldier then turned you around and softly pushed you against the wall.

"Whatever could this soldier do to make up for making you wait, hm?" He asked, kissing down your neck.

James actually came out to be quite the talker. Once you and him established a bond, a trustworthy relationship, he opened up to you comfortably, and this brought tears to your eyes every time you thought about it. The fact that that man thought of you as a safe port... there was no better feeling.

Sneaking your arms around his neck and your leg in between his, you rubbed your thigh against his clothed, semi-hard cock.

"I can think of a pretty good way..." You replied, placing a quick kiss to his lips, then another one, a little longer.

"I think I might be the one to come out winning from this arragement." He said with a smile, placing his lips on yours and kissing you deeply.

The Soldier picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him so he could carry you to the bed.

There was just the right balance in the way Bucky handled you. His touch was rough and intense, but also romantic and full of emotion.

As he laid you on the bed, his mouth worked wonders on your bed and his hands gripped your thighs.

The Soldier was definitely more of a giver than a receiver. He loved looking at your face and seeing your reaction to every touch of his.

"I wanna mark you... I wanna mark you so fucking much. Let everyone know you're mine..."

Those words were music to your ears, although you both knew the evidence of any sexual activity would raise eyebrows and cause for problems.

Bucky removed your clothes as he kissed you, so he could then press your lips against every part of his body on his way down to your pussy.

The second his lips found your clit, your fingers tangled in his hair and tugged on it slightly, making him moan into your skin. One of his hands held your impatient waist in place, as the other fingered you.

"You taste so good, doll."

The praise and dirty words were your favourite parts, second only to the way he fucked you.

Bucky could feel you clench around his fingers, he knew you were close.

You whined when he removed his fingers, but he quickly shut you up with a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

"I'll replace them with something better, don't worry." He whispered in your ear, then placing wet kisses all over your neck and chest.

The Soldier was quick to remove his clothing, and you watched in awe as he exposed his body. Every time you looked at each other it was as if you were admiring yourselves for the first time.

His tip quickly found your entrance. Your body was used to his by this point, giving him more freedom to fuck you however he wanted.

The man started slow, but it didn't take long before he was gripping your waist and fucking you relentlessly.

The room echoed with the sounds of skin slapping, along with a beautiful mix of your moans and the Soldier's groans.

Bucky couldn't help but notice how beautiful you looked, your face contorted with pleasure, all because of him. It made him feel even closer to orgasm.

Your eyes switched between his face, eyebrows furrowed and mouth agape, and his toned body, shining from the sweat of fucking you.

As he approached his climax, he bent down to kiss you, quickening the pace of his thrusts.

"I'm gonna cum, beautiful." He moaned in your ear.

"Do it. Do it- fuck! Fill me up!" You begged.

Those words coming out of your angelic mouth were Bucky's death sentence. With one last thrust, he buried himself deep in you and came.

As you felt him fill you up, you came as well, mercilessly scratching his back as you did so.

He didn't pull out immediately, taking his sweet time brushing the little stray hairs out of your face and placing soft, short kisses on your mouth.

The man then fell beside you, so you wouldn't have to support his body weight, and you cuddled up to him.

As usual, when you woke up he was gone. Not because he didn't want to spend the night, but because he couldn't.

Your next meeting wouldn't be until two days after that.

"Your time starts now, Doctor." The HYDRA official told you, as you stepped in the room where they kept the Winter Soldier.

The stench of the room had become partocularly bothersome for you the past couple weeks.

You nodded at the man, and spotted Bucky sitting, emotionlessly staring at the wall, with new marks and bruises (that weren't caused by you).

The second the door closed, you ran to him, inspecting his face and body.

"James! What happened?"

He looked at you, and the cold, angry look was instantly switched to pain and regret.

"I... Attacked one of the officials."

You caressed his face and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"Oh, James-" before you could finish the sentence, the urge to vomit took over.

You covered your mouth but it was no use. You had to find a bucket and throw up in it.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Bucky asked, coming up behind you and rubbing your back.

"Yeah, I'm just feeling a little sick... I might be coming down with something, my body is aching, my stomach isn't feeling great..."

When you looked at the Soldier he was staring intently at your stomach.

"What?" You asked, not catching what the look was supposed to mean.

"Y/N, do you think that..."

He didn't finish the sentence, he simply placed his hand on your stomach, letting you connect the dots.

You widened your eyes and looked at him as you understood what he meant, and placed your hands on top of his large one.

It was possible. It was more than possible: it was likely. You had been consistently having sex for a long time, and it wasn't like HYDRA was supplying any sort of protection.

It was the first time you saw panic in the man's eyes.

"We're leaving."

"What? How!?" You asked.

You weren't going to stop him, God knows you wanted out just as much.

He stopd in front of you, holding your shoulders and looking in your eyes intensely.

"I don't know. I don't even know how to be a person, I don't even know how to be anything else than what I am right now, but the one thing I'm certain of is that I want to keep you safe. And the... the mini you-and-me even safer. Out of this place."

You grabbed his face and kissed him, a long, loving kiss.

"I trust that you will be able to free me from this reality, Y/N. From my mind, bring me back who I was."

You stood there, foreheads resting against each other, admiring what your future could be.

Before long, you heard the heavy footsteps in the hallway and you knew it was time.

Bucky quickly whispered "be ready tonight", and you then took your rehesrsed places: Bucky sitting down in the hellish machine, and you sitting far away in a desk, pretending to write something of value.

You didn't know what that meant, or what to do, but as the moon rose in the sky, you removed the pillowcase from your pillow and stuffed the most important stuff you owned inside of it.

A pebble hit your window, then another, and then another. You rightfully assumed it was your knight in shining arm(or). As you opened the window, he climbed the side of the building and came in.

"James! Why not the door?" You asked, giggly, as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulled his mask down and kissed you.

"I wasn't supposed to be out tonight, no mission. I had to sneak." He explained, hurriedly putting his mask on and covering you with jackets, warm pants, boots and a beanie.

"Won't they notice?" You asked, worried.

"I have a plan. That's why we need to hurry."

You didn't have time to ask why or what was going to happen, he zipped up your jacket, wrapped an arm around you and climbed out of the window.

You saw a snow mobile not far, and assumed it was your ride.

As you were approaching the vehicle, an explosion sounded behind you and the ground shook.

Bucky had set an explosion not far off so HYDRA would be focused on that and not notice him until it was too late.

And so you rode off, for hours and hours, until you reached a helicopter. You were scared shitless of entering, but nevertheless you took your lover's hand and trusted that he would lead you to safety.

And lead you to safety he did. He kept his promise, and as long as you lived James Barnes kept you safe. No matter how many nightmares haunted him, no matter how confusing it all got, one thing he was sure of: you were his compass, his one and only, the person who had unknowingly brought him freedom.

[TAGS]

@msoldier ; @avis15

[shadowreader23]

Time Travel Barnes? (Part 11)

Many trigger warrnings for this chapter basically trigger warning for everything bucky went through plus blackouts+ Nightmares+ losing time.

--------

James snapped awake, shooting up from the bed until he was up straight, suddenly standing and surveying the room like every other night before found his damn apartment. He searched, looking around frantically and subtly shifting from the edge of the bed until he was up against the wall, back facing it so he had his six covered.

He was in a broken room, all busted up and burnt in places. It was a mess with three makeshift beds spread around, up against walls. The two were empty.

He frowned and swallowed thickly, taking in air calmly and controllingly. He wasn’t sure of… anything right now. He didn’t remember much, but there were memories. He remembered being on the road leaving the town, he remembered having to use the guns he stole. He remembered being by Bucky’s side and shooting, ducking and changing the magazine of his weapon. James also remembered swapping patrol recently. Last night? He was swapped from Bucky to Berger for an earlier patrol and Dugan and Bucky took a shift after them.

James looked for a window, seeing that it was still dark out when his eyes landed on it. Were they on patrol?

It felt like his mind cut out a huge chunk of time and he just randomly appeared a little further into the future, maybe a few days to a few weeks. He wasn’t too sure. He had a few memories of the things he’d done in that time, but it felt like he hadn’t done any of it. He was just forced a little further forward in time. Was it the stone? Was it pushing him towards something? Wanting him to see something?

He snapped his eyes towards the door open door when he heard the footsteps and laughing, though it sounded like they were strained and trying to be as quiet as possible, obviously failing. “Canon?” James calmed at seeing Bucky step around the door, his smile dropping and turning to curios concern. Dugan wasn’t with him now, probably went to take a piss or something, but he was alone and looking a little worried after seeing him so apprehensive with his back against the wall.

“Hey, you okay?” he stepped further into the room and slipped off the strap of his gun, tossing it to his bed after automatically flicking the safety on. He took of the few weapons he had and they were thrown to his bed too, right next to James’. They slept close, next to each other. He assumed that Dugan had the bed on the other end of the almost square shaped room.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just…” he shook his head lightly and ran his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t bunned it or tied it up, and flicking his gaze to his left wrist covered by the sleeve, seeing the dark band wrapped around it, keeping the fabric closed around the metal. Bucky must’ve mistaken the glance, because he was stepping up close to him, eyeing him with a worried knitted brow.

“Another nightmare?” James eyed him, but didn’t move, didn’t nod or shake his head. He knew that he was never this close to anyone when he was Bucky, and during this time. Being attached to someone, becoming friends, it was inevitable, but you tried. Because they’d either end up dead or you did and it’d be a loss, not just of a comrade, but a friend. Bucky was closer, he felt oddly like family right now. He was making sure he was okay, worrying about him like a brother would.

“Sort of,” he finally replied with a subtle shrug. He’d said ‘another nightmare’. So, Bucky had seen him go through one? Maybe found him after one or right before he sunk into one of his worst? Or maybe he’d only had minor ones and he hadn’t lashed out as much. If he’d seen him through one of his worst, then there’d be evidence. Bucky would be hurt, or maybe have bruises or breaks. He wouldn’t have been unharmed, and judging from his personality, he wouldn’t have just left him to go through it on his own. He would’ve tried to wake him, which wasn’t the best course of action. He’d definitely be hurt.

“Did I hurt you?” he heard himself mumbling quietly, almost brokenly. His voice was a deep whisper.

“What? You just saw me come through the door from patro-,”

“No, I mean before,” he watched him with strong focus, looking for any twitch or tell that would give him away. “My other nightmares,” and there it was. He saw the flash of something, a split-second and it was gone. Realization? Reluctance? “Have I hurt you before?” it flashed across his face again, and he caught it this time. Security. He knew the expression, what was coming next. He’d avoid answering directly. Maybe try to protect him and/or comfort him through it, and maybe defend James, not blaming him for any of it. And by the sigh that left the man...

“Listen, Jamie. None of it was you-,” … James was right. “-It was your nightmares and you just took action on instinct. Obviously what happened to you was really bad and it left scars, nightmares,” he gave a shrug that said ‘obviously’. “I’m not gonna blame you for acting out on impulse. You’re a trained soldier. I’d be surprised if you didn’t have a few more from this war when or if you get your ass back to your time,” he wouldn’t. He never did. Bucky was a trigger happy man and he somewhat enjoyed taking out the opposing team because he was a competitive men when it mattered. He didn’t take joy in it, obviously, but he felt better for doing his job and taking them out. He could sleep at night because the ones he’d take out weren’t innocent.

James as the Winter Soldier, took out innocents, upon innocents, upon innocents. He had faces throwing themselves at him, screaming, crying, begging to live or that they ‘didn’t see anything’ when his mission involved ‘no witnesses’. Every time his eyes closed, he’d see a different face, a different face crying and trying to get away from what was inevitable.

“I don’t give a damn about the nightmares,” he responded flatly, deeply and he looked Bucky dead in the eye, pinning him there with just an almost broken look. “They’re in my head. You’re not,” he stared unnervingly at him. “You’re real and you’re someone I don’t want to hurt, while awake or asleep,” he sighed calmly and lowly, still watching him intently and noting that Bucky had bravely kept eye contact with him. “Don’t make me ask again…” James hated that his voice actually cracked. Only the once, but it showed that a fraction of control of his voice slipped.

And it seemed to hit Bucky. His jaw tightened and his breathing hitched slightly, like it was a mild surprise. He saw James as a strong man, a man that couldn’t bear to hurt someone that close to him. He couldn’t bare it, not if he actually hurt him, broke him. If James ever did, and because of a fucking nightmare, he’d never forgive himself.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jamie,” his voice was a whisper and James didn’t move or even flinch when the hand reached up without caution and was placed on the side of his neck, Bucky’s thumb gently running the few inches of his jaw. “You scraped me a few times, but I learnt my lesson after the first couple of nightmares,” so he did hurt him. He harmed him ‘scraped’ him. Obviously he did more than just scrape the man. He was downplaying the damage.

“Can I ask you about it?” James easily snapped from his thoughts and to attention without Bucky seeing that he’d been distracted with his own mind. He eyed him, a questioning frown creasing his brow and the other man finally managed to break their eye-lock to gesture towards the arm. He stiffened, his jaw locking and tensing like Bucky’s had before and he locked up, hesitant and reluctant. His breathing picked up, but… he nodded slowly and stiffly anyway.

He deserved at least something, some idea or some thought or image of what it was or how it was there. He didn’t want to lie, not anymore. He’d done enough of that, but the timeline was still at risk… He… didn’t exactly know what to say.

“How’ds it work?” he was expecting something different, a simple question, but… okay.

“Neural sensors attached at the nerves of what’s left of my arm inside of the metal. My brain controls it like my brain controls my right arm,”

“I’ll pretend that I understood all that,” he smirked at him, and James just scoffed, feeling his tension gradually leaving at how casual Bucky was being. He seemed so calm and laid-back at this point that it was putting him at ease.

“Think of how your arm works and imagine it being metal,” he simplified, seeing the understanding nod. He seemed to get it now, which he was thankful for, but… “The only thing different from what you’re imagining and what my arm has, is that mine’s got a coolant system for different outward temperatures. An In-cleaner, that regularly cleans the inside of the arm via small, but strong puffs of air. It’s enhancedly strong and can stop a moving truck and it lights up on the inside when I access that strength,” he knew the last one was true and he wasn’t lying because he saw the faint sliver of light through one of the seams when his arm had been worked on. They took it apart to fix something and jarred a bad wire that involuntarily accessed that strength and it lit up.

“The fuck’s a coolant system?” he looked like he was hit in the face by a pan or something. He looked genuinely confused.

“I can cool the arm down or heat it up, depending on my own body temp, or the temp around me. If I’m in a cold area, I can keep the arm from freezing or stiffening up by heating up the metal,”

“So, you can turn your arm into a mobile heater or a block of ice?” Bucky deadpanned with a crooked smirk, a trademark smile. He could tell that he’d been distracted, the soldier having made him think of different things, the thing being his arm, but he hadn’t thought of it badly, which was weird. Bucky asked the simple mechanic of it, how it worked and what something inside of it was. He was asking about the object itself instead of how it was there, why, how’d they fix it to him, or did it hurt.

“Not exactly a block of ice, but I can make it cold without it freezing up,” he would describe this as refreshing, but it was nicer to think of it this way than to have to think of it as the thing that ruined him, that made him feel like a monster, apart from his own mind.

“For hot places,” James nodded in affirmation. And that seemed to end it there. Bucky patted him where his hand had been and pulled back with a tired, but still crooked smirk. James huffed a breathy scoff through his nose and moved to sit back down on the bed, still mildly reluctant to sleep. He was still confused and unsure of how far he went into the future, clearly not far because Bucky looked almost exactly the same, maybe a bit stubblier.

“How long’s it been since we left that town,” he muttered to himself, knowing that Bucky heard him and hoping that he’d answer. It was the easiest way to ask without the man finding out or knowing that he’d skipped times.

“About… couple of weeks… maybe six?” a month and a half? He skipped that far? He was thinking maybe a week or two, not six. That thought just meant that they were getting closer to being kidnapped, experimented on and that damn train was getting dangerous real again.

James swallowed thickly and reluctantly shifted to lie flat over the bed, one knee bent, the other straight. His flesh arm lifted and he draped it over his eye, not wanting to look at anything while his metal one, now uncovered by the glove, which was odd, was resting over his abdomen.

That length of time was bringing them closer to James’ worst nightmare and it terrified him that he’d have to re-board that damn thing. He was sure that Bucky would board it, because Steve would. It was their mission and they came as a pair. One doesn’t go without the other, and if one goes, so does the other.

He wouldn’t leave them behind.

He’d save them.

Or he’d die trying.

Bucky...

Steve...

“... til the end of the line,” he muttered tiredly, his voice deep, cracking with exhaustion, too tired to see the wide eyes snap towards him and stare.

[sweetcocopowder]

Sambucky Throw Away Fic

Synopsis: Bucky has a nightmare and Sam is there is help

Word Count: 802

Warnings: Trauma. angst. Fluff

Notes: This is a throw away fic because I realized after writing this for a request, it wasn't what they wanted. So this is just, eh. Here you guys go ahaha. Also this is very much unedited!!!

All Sam can do is watch and wait. He’s tried to stop the nightmares before, once. And that led to him having a black eye for up to two weeks. And it honestly pains him to sit here and watch Bucky toss and turn in his sleep.

He breathes heavily and sweat lathers his body in a thick sheen that can be seen in the low lighting of the bedside lamp. His face is scrunched up into a painful expression, his mouth mumbling words that don’t quite make sense. His metal arm shifts and shutters Bucky grips the blanket that he’s stolen completely from Sam.

Then Bucky’s metal arm swings out, just missing Sam by a hair before the owner of it sits up straight with a strangled cry. Bucky was quick to look around the room in a panic, almost like he wasn’t seeing reality, but what was still replaying in his mind. This was something that always has Sam’s heart aching… wrenching to reach out and touch the solider. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t bear to scare him anymore than he already is. The sweat makes Bucky’s skin look like a wet mess, his short hair sticking to his forehead.

“Another nightmare?” Sam asks.

The voice in the dimly lit room catches Bucky off guard. He quickly looks to Sam, blue eyes wide in the night almost an iced expression with nothing but pain swirling in them. He tries to calm down quickly though as he realizes who’s next to him. Running his cold metal fingers through his soaked hair, he cringes at the feeling. No one else would be in the same bed as him. He wouldn’t let anyone see him like this not even Steve, but yet... Sam’s an exception.

Bucky swallows thickly as Sam finally reaches out and places a hand on the other man’s sticky forearm. His shoulders slouch at the touch, his features relaxing.

“Yeah,” Bucky says as he turns away, flinching slightly at the touch of his lover.

“Wanna talk about it?” Sam asks.

And like all those other times, Bucky’s back is all he sees. Hunched over and almost embarrassed. Silence comes naturally. To Sam’s annoyance. His hand falls from Bucky and he flops back down onto the bed with a groan, rubbing his eyes slightly from the lack of sleep.

“It’s better to talk about it. Get it off your chest,” Sam can’t help but grin into his words. “Feels reeeaaaal good.”

Bucky sighs, running his Vibranium hand through his hair again this time trying his best to flatten out the spikes and stray pieces of wet floof. “I dreamt of the train again,” his voice is all but a cracked whisper, one that Sam only just catches.

He sits up fully this time, searching for the soldier’s face in the dim street lights that shine through the apartment window. Bucky’s eyes stare down at his hands, as if the memory places right in front of his eyes. Sam’s seen this so many times with other soldiers. But Bucky always feels different to the rest. He’s always been different to the rest.

“Bucky,” Sam softly says.

Blue eyes quickly look to him, snapping out of thought. Sam holds onto his flesh and blood arm again, squeezing tightly this time.

“That’s all in the past. What’s now is now,” Sam states.

“That’s easier said than done,” the soldier almost snaps.

Sam rolls his eyes while shaking his head. “I know it’s easier said than done. But saying some shit out loud helps, even if it may seem fruitless at first.”

Bucky swallows thickly, watching Sam intently. Sam can see so many thoughts flickering and spiralling around his head. He’s just gotta make up his mind to what he’ll choose to say.

“I know this may not be the time, but c-can I kiss you?” Bucky asks, his gaze wondering back down to his hands, picking his nails anxiously. He always felt so stupid asking for affection. Feeling guilt when he only asks for a simple kiss.

Sam chuckles lightly. “Only if you don’t change the topic next time.”

Bucky doesn’t respond to that. He cups Sam’s face without a second thought softly with his Vibranium hand and kisses him with only a grunt in response to the other male. Gently at first before deepening it with a neediness that is borderline touch starved. Sam holds on tightly to Bucky’s arm, letting the other man lead. He kisses like some romantic idiot from a cheap romance movie. But it’s perfect for Sam.

And if this eases the pain a little in the soldier’s mind. If it helps him navigate his words, or just simply makes him feel better in that moment alone. Then Sam would allow himself to be the distraction to the nightmares.

-

:3

[brunchable]

𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

Part Two Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Heavy Mutual Pinining, Heavy Sexual Tension, Longing, Yearning, Right Person-Wrong Time. Friends to Lovers, a bit Angsty but Happy Ending. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky being obsessed with tiddies, unprotected piv, creampie. Summary: Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt. A/N: This is a Two Shot, so another one will be coming soon.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917 @classicrebound

The first time it really hits is when you see him with her.

It’s a crowded room, warm bodies pressed close together, the low hum of music barely louder than the thudding in your chest as you watch Bucky Barnes wrap his arm around the waist of a woman you don’t know. 

She’s beautiful, of course—someone you'd expect to be by his side. Her laugh is soft, melting into his as he leans in close, whispering something that lights her face up, his lips brushing her ear like he can’t help himself.

You glance down at your drink, the sudden bitterness pooling in your throat harder to swallow than the wine. You tell yourself to look away, that it’s none of your business who he holds, but you can’t. Every time you look up, he’s there, still wrapped around her, laughing at something she’s said, his hand resting on her back in a way that feels too familiar, too tender. You know that look—the way his fingers splay protectively, pulling her close like she belongs to him. Like he’s finally let someone in.

It’s torture, standing there with a smile plastered on your face, pretending not to notice. Pretending that it doesn’t crush you.

Because when you’re alone—when you’re single—he’s taken. And when he’s got nobody, you do. Every single time. You’ve gotten used to seeing him across rooms, with someone else in his arms, with that look in his eyes that you wish, desperately, could be meant for you.

And he’s always looking at you that same way, that glance just a second too long, that warmth held back by a fragile thread of restraint. Just enough to keep the lines from blurring.

Tonight, he finally looks away.

When he glances up, catches sight of you, his smile falters. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and something soft flickers in his eyes—something like regret, the same regret you carry. But her hand tightens on his arm, and he turns back to her, his smile returning, wider than before. You hate how easily he can pull away from you, how quickly he can make you feel invisible.

“Hey, Bucky,” you manage, your voice steady though it feels like your chest is caving in.

He looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Hey.” His gaze drops, and for a second, you think he might actually say something, that he might admit that this hurts him too. But then she shifts closer, and he wraps his arm around her more firmly, giving you a look that’s both a dare and a dismissal.

“This is Emily,” he says, and she gives you a polite, too-sweet smile.

“Oh.” You swallow, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “I didn’t know… I hadn’t realized you were…” You can’t finish, the words catching in your throat.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s tone is almost too casual, too final. “We’re together.”

The finality of it slices through you, sharp and clean. You nod, trying to hold onto whatever scraps of dignity you have left, but all you can manage is, “Well… congratulations. I’m… I’m glad you’re happy.”

There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—anger? Hurt? But his jaw tightens, and he nods, looking away as if to spare you. 

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” he says, his voice steady, controlled.

Emily pulls him closer, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she glances at you. 

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” she says, and there’s a challenge in her tone, a silent declaration that she’s won, that whatever you think you had with him is nothing compared to this. She presses a kiss to his cheek, her fingers curling possessively around his shoulder as she tilts her head, catching his gaze.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your voice hollow. “Yeah, he is.”

And for a brief, desperate second, you think he might look at you—really look at you, see how much this is tearing you apart. But he doesn’t. His gaze is on her, soft and full of warmth, a look he’s given you a thousand times. And it feels like he’s choosing her, like he’s making the decision to let go of whatever fragile orbit kept you two circling each other all this time.

You turn away, trying to hold yourself together, but the ache in your chest is all-consuming, a raw, relentless reminder that he’s moved on. That he’s chosen her.

And as you walk away, you can still hear their laughter, the sound twisting like a knife in your chest, leaving you wondering if he was ever yours to lose.

And then one night, fate flips, and you’re the one with someone new by your side.

It’s been months since you last saw Bucky. You assumed he was out of your life for good, until tonight, when you walk into the cozy warmth of a private dining room in a restaurant, your hand firmly held by your boyfriend Andrew. It’s Steve’s dinner party, a small gathering of friends, and the lighthearted chatter fills the air, mixing with the warm glow from the dimmed overhead lights.

You’re laughing at something your boyfriend said as you step into the room, but your laughter dies in your throat when you see him.

Bucky is seated across the table, leaning back casually in his chair, but the moment his eyes meet yours, a spark flickers there—surprise, mingled with something darker, something that quickens your pulse. You hadn’t expected him to be here tonight, and judging by the way his gaze lingers, he hadn’t expected you either.

Steve stands, grinning as he greets you and Andrew, and you introduce him to everyone. You smile, trying to seem natural as you move around the table, your hand still resting in your boyfriend’s. But it feels wrong, the warmth of your boyfriend’s fingers against yours suddenly strange, like it doesn’t quite belong.

When you reach Bucky, he stands, his jaw tense, his eyes unwavering as he offers a hand to shake. You almost expect him to make some dry remark, to cover up whatever unspoken tension lies between you. But he’s silent as he grips Andrew’s hand firmly, while looking at you. His fingers are steady, a touch too tight, like he’s barely holding something back.

“So, you’re the boyfriend,” Bucky says, his voice calm but laced with something you can’t quite place.

Your boyfriend laughs, unaware of the tension. “Yeah, I am. And you’re the famous Bucky I keep hearing about.”

Bucky’s lips twitch into a half-smile, but his eyes remain cold. 

“I’m sure you have.” He releases your boyfriend’s hand, his gaze shifting back to you, lingering a second too long before he forces himself to look away.

It should feel like a victory—that, for once, you’re the one who’s found happiness while he’s left to watch. But the second you meet his eyes, the air shifts. You feel the weight of everything unspoken, of the years that have passed with both of you just out of reach, orbiting each other but never colliding.

You take your seat next to your boyfriend, aware of every brush of his arm against yours, every gentle squeeze of his hand on your knee under the table. He leans close, murmuring something soft and sweet, and you offer a small smile, but your focus is entirely on Bucky, sitting across the table, his gaze flickering between you and Andrew, his jaw set with that same restrained tension.

As the night wears on, Bucky remains quiet, only contributing here and there to the conversation, but each time he speaks, his words feel weighted, almost directed at you.

“So,” he says, finally breaking the silence, his voice cutting through the chatter, “I’m guessing you’re happy?”

The question is simple enough, but there’s a challenge hidden beneath it, a question he doesn’t ask outright.

“Yes, I am,” you say, your voice firmer than you feel, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Your boyfriend glances over, squeezing your hand, unaware of the undercurrents in the room. 

“She’s stuck with me now,” he jokes, nudging you. “No escape.”

You laugh softly, but the sound feels hollow, especially when you catch Bucky’s expression—something dark and raw flashing in his eyes before he schools his features again.

“Good for you both,” Bucky replies, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. “It’s about time.”

There’s a pause, the kind that seems to echo louder than any conversation, and you can feel Bucky’s gaze burning into you, filled with a thousand things he can’t say. Your chest tightens as the weight of everything unsaid settles heavily between you, filling the air with a tension you’re certain everyone can feel.

As people start to leave, you find yourself alone with Bucky by the door. Your boyfriend is across the room, saying goodbyes, and it’s just you and Bucky in the dimly lit entryway, a fragile bubble of space and time.

“So…” His voice is low, almost too soft, his eyes searching yours. “This is it, then?”

There’s a vulnerability in his words that pierces through you, a rawness you’ve never heard before. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to deny it.

You glance away, your voice barely a whisper. “Yep. This is it.”

A shadow crosses his face, and he just stands there, watching you, his gaze heavy. He doesn’t say anything for awhile, his hand lingering just inches from yours, as though he’s contemplating reaching out, breaking whatever boundary lies between you. The air feels thick, and you wonder if he can hear the frantic beat of your heart.

But he lets his hand fall back to his side. 

“Guess there’s nothing left to say,” he murmurs, a bitter edge coloring his voice. His eyes linger on you, as if he’s memorizing every detail, every second of this final, silent goodbye.

You open your mouth, but the words die on your lips, caught between everything you want to say and everything you can’t. You reach out, almost instinctively, but Andrew calls your name from across the room, his voice shattering the fragile stillness.

Bucky’s gaze flickers, and he takes a step back, his expression falling into something guarded. 

“Take care, doll,” he says softly, the words laced with both a goodbye and a promise. His eyes linger on you one last time, and then he’s gone, slipping out into the night.

He’d spent years replacing your lips with so many others, all in an attempt to forget the mark you left on him.

Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he��ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled her in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.

× × × × 

Present

It’s one of those nights, another dinner gathering among friends, the kind that’s almost become routine. You’re already seated in the cozy living room, surrounded by the familiar warmth of Steve’s place. The soft glow of lamps and low bable of conversation wrap around you like a comfortable blanket, and for the first time in a long time, you’re truly at ease.

Beside you, Sam nudges your shoulder. 

“Hey Boo,” he says, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, “remember when you and Bucky were practically attached at the hip? What happened there?”

The question catches you off guard, and you feel warmth creeping up your neck as a few heads turn, curious eyes glancing your way. You roll your eyes, nudging him back. 

“Leave it to you to bring that up, Sam.”

He chuckles, unrelenting. “C’mon, just saying. You two were tight. I mean, tight.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling the weight of a few more gazes on you, even if they aren’t pushing the question. 

“It’s… complicated,” you finally say, giving him a look that tells him to drop it. But Sam just chuckles, clearly amused, like he knows something no one else does.

“Complicated.” He echoes with a slow nod, a knowing grin spreading. “Right. Complicated.”

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter, barely suppressing a smile, but you can’t deny the fondness in your tone. Sam just winks, nudging you again, and the others quickly move on, the brief moment of attention fading as conversation flows around you.

And that’s when the front door opens, and you hear his voice.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bucky calls out, his deep voice filling the space effortlessly as he steps in, slightly flushed from the cold outside. His eyes scan the room, and the moment they land on you, you swear the air shifts, that it crackles with something electric, something only the two of you seem to feel.

Your heart stumbles over itself as he walks further into the room, tugging off his jacket and offering smiles and nods to everyone. But it’s like a magnetic pull—his eyes keep flickering back to you, and each time it does, your stomach does a nervous, excited flip.

He looks good. Better than good, really. There’s a slight scruff along his jaw, and his hair falls just so, framing his face in a way that makes you want to reach out and touch it. When he finally reaches the empty chair directly across from you, he stops, fingers lingering on the back of it.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asks, his voice low, and there’s something almost hesitant in his eyes, like he’s waiting for permission to be close to you.

You shake your head, trying to keep your cool, even though every part of you is screaming, yes, sit, sit right here and don’t you dare move.

“No, go ahead,” you reply, hoping your voice sounds steady.

He sits, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted, and the faint scent of his cologne drifts over, warm and familiar, making your head spin.

As he settles in, he leans slightly closer, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Long time no see.”

“Feels that way, doesn’t it?” you murmur, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. Every subtle movement, every small smile he throws your way feels like it’s weaving a thread around you both, pulling you in.

The conversation around you resumes, but it’s like you’re in a bubble, the two of you orbiting each other again. Every so often, his knee brushes yours under the table, just enough to send a shiver up your spine, to make you bite back a smile. His hand rests on the table between you, his fingers drumming absently, and you find yourself staring at them, remembering every time those hands had nearly, almost touched yours.

After a lull in conversation, he clears his throat, glancing at you sideways. 

“So… where’s the boyfriend?” he asks, almost casually, but you catch the underlying question. His tone is light, but his eyes are cautious, searching yours, looking for an answer he can’t ask outright.

You raise a brow, unable to hide the grin pulling at your lips. 

“Well,” you say, tilting your head slightly as you meet his gaze, “the lack of presence should answer your question.”

For a second, Bucky just stares, and then a slow, dawning smile spreads across his face, his whole expression softening, the guardedness falling away. He looks like he’s holding back from saying something, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the table, his knee pressing just a little more against yours as he leans in.

And before you can think twice, you match his question with your own, barely above a whisper. “And where’s your girlfriend, Bucky?”

“Nonexistent.” he said almost instantly.

His eyes hold yours, and something subtle shifts in them—a hint of a smile playing at his lips, but he doesn’t look away though he plays it off with a small, casual shrug. “Guess I’ve been waiting for the right person.”

You nod, feeling the smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. 

“Nice,” you say, trying to keep it casual, though your heart’s picking up a pace of its own.

“Yeah… nice.” He lets out a quiet chuckle, raising an eyebrow as if he’s catching onto your attempt at nonchalance. 

Deafening silence settles between you, but it’s charged, a silent exchange that makes you feel more breathless than words ever could. Neither of you seems to move, his knee still brushing yours under the table, and it feels like he’s lingering in your space, right on that line between friend and something more. 

You glance around, feeling the tension rise, and blow your bangs out of your eyes, hoping it might ease the knot in your stomach. But when you sneak a look at him, he’s still staring, his gaze solid, unblinking, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of every tiny shift in the air between you. Your cheeks warm, and you look away quickly, pressing your lips together, but it only makes your heart pound harder.

Your cheeks warm instantly, and you quickly look away, focusing hard on the table.

A small smile tugs at his lips, his voice soft. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Your pulse quickens, and you swallow, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. 

“Maybe a little,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

A spark lights in his eyes, and his smile widens, soft but undeniably mischievous. 

“Good,” he murmurs, his knee pressing just a fraction closer to yours, enough to send a thrill up your spine. “Because, for the record… you make me a little nervous too.”

Your heart does a flip, and you feel a grin tug at your lips despite yourself. 

“I make you nervous?” You try to keep the surprise out of your voice, but he just nods, his gaze intense, that teasing warmth settling over his expression.

“Yeah, you do,” he says, his tone light but honest, like he’s been waiting to say it. “Especially when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you ask, barely breathing.

“Like you’re about to bolt… but part of you doesn’t want to.” His voice is low, and his eyes search yours, as if he’s daring you to deny it.

You feel the smile you’ve been holding back break through, your heart racing as the last of the distance between you seems to dissolve. Just as you’re about to respond, a voice calls from the dining room, breaking the tension as everyone calls you both to join.

“Guess we should go, huh?” Bucky lets out a soft chuckle, pulling back just slightly, though his gaze lingers on yours for a heartbeat longer. 

“Yeah,” you manage, feeling a little breathless.

But as you both stand and head to the dining room, his hand brushes yours, just enough for his pinky to link with yours for a brief, secret moment. The warmth of that tiny touch lingers, and you can’t help but feel like something just shifted between you, something new and thrilling, waiting just under the surface.

× × × ×

As you both step into the dining room, Sam raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “There they are,” he teases, his voice just loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. “We were wondering what’s taking so long.”

Heat creeps up your cheeks, and you catch Bucky’s gaze, a subtle, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You feel your pulse quicken, but you don’t say anything, slipping into the room to find only two empty seats—right beside each other.

Bucky gestures to the chair beside him, waiting until you sit before settling in next to you. He settles in beside you, his broad shoulders and steady presence enveloping the space, making you feel smaller.

Conversations swirl around the table, but you’re painfully aware of every tiny shift Bucky makes. The subtle brush of his arm against yours, the steady warmth radiating from his shoulder—it all has your heart racing. His hand rests on the table beside yours, fingers drumming lightly, and your pulse hammers as his knee presses just slightly against yours under the table, a connection so subtle yet electric that it makes your skin tingle.

Then he adjusts his position, angling himself more toward the group—and you. The small movement brings him even closer, and you’re immediately enveloped in his scent, something warm and cedar-like, filling the air around you until it feels almost overwhelming, in the best possible way. You take a slow breath, fighting the urge to close the distance even more, feeling trapped between wanting to be near him and feeling breathless because of it.

As Bucky joins the conversation, you find yourself watching him, captivated by the way he leans in, his voice low and steady, his easy confidence only pulling you in deeper. His lips curve as he speaks, and you can’t help but linger on every detail, the way his eyes light up, the rough timbre of his laugh, every tiny thing about him that’s impossibly distracting.

And then, in the middle of a sentence, his eyes flick back to you, catching you looking. You quickly look away, feeling your cheeks burn as you fixate on your plate, hoping he didn’t notice the way you’d been studying him.

But out of the corner of your eye, you catch the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His pinky grazes yours again, a gentle, teasing touch, sending a thrill up your spine as he continues his conversation, his presence unmistakable and impossible to ignore.

You try to focus on anything else, but his gaze keeps finding you, even when you’re not looking. And with every shared glance, every quiet brush of his fingers, the air grows thicker, charged with something unspoken, as if each tiny touch is daring you to lean in, to close that final distance.

You’re doing everything you can to keep your composure, to focus on the laughter and stories being shared. But Bucky’s presence beside you is inescapable, it’s a thrill that’s leaving you silent, lost in your own thoughts as the night goes on.

Sam’s voice suddenly cuts through, pulling you back to reality. 

“Hey,” he says, smirking as he leans back in his chair, his gaze playful but sharp. “You’re unusually quiet tonight. What’s going on with you?”

Feeling everyone’s eyes on you, you force a small laugh, trying to brush off the tension simmering under your skin. 

“Just… food coma, I guess,” you say, waving a hand and attempting a casual smile. 

Sam raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Food coma? Really?” He drags out the words, as if he’s not buying it for a second, and you can see the teasing glint in his eyes. “Pasta’s got you this speechless?”

Beside you, Bucky’s lips twitch, and you can feel his gaze, that familiar, subtle amusement making it impossible not to blush. You risk a quick glance at him, only to find him looking back with that same knowing smirk, like he can see right through every excuse.

“Maybe she’s just tired of all your talking, Sam,” Bucky says smoothly, draping his arm over the back of your chair as he speaks. The movement is so casual, so effortless, that it almost seems like an afterthought. But the warmth of his arm behind you, his fingers just brushing the curve of your shoulder, makes your heart race in ways you can’t ignore. His tone stays casual, but there’s a hint of laughter in his eyes as he looks at Sam, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a subtle, grounding touch.

Sam raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. Just thought I’d check,” he says, throwing a playful wink in your direction.

You feel yourself sink back just slightly, leaning into the warmth of his arm, and it’s impossible to ignore the way his fingers stay near your shoulder, steady and unassuming but unmistakably there. The conversations resume around you, but the space between you and Bucky feels even smaller, the quiet thrill of his touch pulling you in.

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping so only you can hear. 

“That food coma excuse was almost convincing,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with playful challenge as he watches your reaction.

× × × ×

As the night winds down, people start to gather their things, saying their goodbyes. You slip on your coat, waiting for Sam to finish up his goodbyes, but he suddenly turns to Steve with a grin.

“Hey, Rogers,” Sam says, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “How about we hit that bar down the street? Just a quick nightcap.”

You raise an eyebrow, deadpanning as you fold your arms. “Seriously, Sam?”

He flashes you an unapologetic grin, shrugging. “What? You’re always saying you’re an independent woman. I figured a little alone time wouldn’t hurt.”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head, muttering, “You’re an asshole.”

Sam just laughs, looking over his shoulder. 

“Hey, maybe Bucky can give you a lift. It’ll be like old times.” He gives you a wink, completely ignoring the way your cheeks warm.

You glance at Bucky, trying to keep your expression neutral. “It’s fine, really,” you say quickly. “I’ll just grab an Uber.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam says, grabbing his jacket and heading out with Steve. “But you know Bucky’s free.” He gives you one last smirk before slipping out the door, leaving you standing there with Bucky, who’s leaning casually against the wall, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Need a ride?” he asks, his voice warm, that familiar glint in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter.

You open your mouth to decline, still feeling a bit of resistance. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll just grab an Uber.”

Bucky chuckles softly, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll drop you off. It’s fine.”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, trying to gauge his sincerity, but there’s that familiar steadiness in his eyes, a quiet patience that leaves you with no real reason to argue. Finally, you sigh, giving in with a reluctant nod.

The car ride starts in silence, the engine’s low hum filling the tense quiet between you, only occasionally interrupted by the soft rattle of snowflakes pelting against the windows as the blizzard starts to gather strength. 

You shift in your seat, fidgeting, your hands smoothing over your coat, your fingers picking at invisible lint. Nothing feels comfortable. Every second, your eyes flick to the window, tracing the passing streetlights, trying to focus on anything but him.

But you can feel him there. The warmth of him beside you, the steady, calm presence that somehow has you on edge, unable to breathe fully. His familiar scent fills the car—a mix of cedar and something undeniably him—sharp and soothing all at once, making the small space feel even smaller.

You cross your arms, uncross them, uncross your legs, then cross them again, pressing your back firmly into the seat as if that might stop the quick, relentless beat of your heart. But each turn he makes, each slight shift of his shoulders, sends a fresh rush of awareness through you, and your mind is racing, trying to keep pace with the pulsing tension that seems to settle between you like a third presence.

Finally, desperate for a distraction, you reach over and flip on the radio, hoping for anything to ease the silence. But the first song is almost too on the nose, the lyrics hitting like they were made for this moment:

"All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you…”

A breath catches in your throat, and before the verse can continue, you reach over and quickly press the button again, changing the station, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

The next station crackles to life, and it’s somehow worse.

“Cause when I got somebody, you don’t and when you got somebody, I don’t. I wish that the time would line up so we could just give in…”

Your pulse races, and you switch stations again, more urgently this time, and the next song fills the car with a familiar pop beat.

“You ain’t my boyfriend and I ain’t your girlfriend. But you don’t want me to see nobody else and I don’t want you to see nobody…”

You press the power button, cutting off the music entirely, and the silence that follows feels heavier than before. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your coat, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him glancing your way, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Bucky clears his throat, his voice a low murmur. “Trouble finding a station?”

You manage a quick, nervous laugh, eyes fixed on the road ahead. 

“Yeah… something like that.”

He just nods, his gaze returning to the road, but you catch the lingering smile in his expression, like he’s perfectly aware of the tension simmering between you, the unspoken things filling the silence.

And as the quiet stretches, you can hear his breathing, steady and unhurried, and it only makes you more aware of your own. You try to breathe normally, in and out, but each breath feels too loud, too obvious, like you’re trying and failing to hide something you both already know.

× × × × 

Bucky pulls up in your driveway, and for a moment, the relief you thought you’d feel at reaching home is overshadowed by something else—something closer to disappointment. The quiet tension that’s been hanging between you feels almost unfinished, and you find yourself wishing the ride could somehow stretch on just a little longer.

He leaves the engine idling, the faint rumble filling the silence as you both sit there, neither moving to get out. After a few seconds, you clear your throat, glancing over at him with a small, reluctant smile.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, voice softer than you intended.

Bucky nods, returning your smile, but you can see a similar reluctance flicker across his face as he glances toward the house. 

“Anytime,” he murmurs.

Your eyes drift to the porch, and you remember the old habit the two of you shared, back when he’d drop by after a night out with everyone—those late nights with coffee and the dessert your mom always made, the one he loved and never turned down.

The memory brings a small smile to your lips, and before you can second-guess yourself, you look back at him. 

“Actually… my mom made her chocolate tart. The one you like. If you’re up for coffee and dessert, that is,” you say, feeling a twinge of nerves despite the casual invitation.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard, but you catch the hint of warmth in his eyes. 

“Chocolate tart, huh?” he echoes, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know I can’t say no to that.”

You shrug, playing it off, but your heart races as you nod toward the door. 

“Figured it’d be a shame to let it go to waste. Besides,” you add, trying to keep your tone light, “it’s been a while since we did coffee and dessert.”

Bucky’s smile widens, and he cuts the engine, pocketing his keys before glancing at you with that familiar spark in his eyes. 

“Guess it’s tradition,” he says, opening his door. “Wouldn’t want to break it.”

You step out, leading him up the walkway, and as you unlock the door, the feeling of anticipation settles back over you, even stronger now. It’s like the tension from the car ride has followed you inside. 

As you head into the kitchen, Bucky follows, his gaze drifting over the familiar space. He takes in the room, noticing what’s changed and what’s stayed the same. The same cozy lamp in the corner, casting a warm glow over the soft cushions on the couch, the same framed photos on the wall—but a few new things catch his attention.

A navy-blue jacket, draped over the armchair, too large to be yours. A set of keys on the counter with a small metal keychain that he doesn’t recognize. And a book on the coffee table, a spy thriller with a bookmark halfway through. He frowns slightly, his mind racing as he takes in these small, unfamiliar details, each one lighting a spark of jealousy that flares bright, unbidden.

He hadn’t asked about Andrew—hadn’t wanted to. But now, surrounded by small traces of him, the thought of someone else being part of this space, of sharing moments with you that once might have been his, digs into him with an unexpected force. The sight of it sparks something sharp and unbidden within him, jealousy flaring up like a match struck in the dark. He swallows, trying to ignore it, trying to remind himself that he has no right to feel this way, but the thought of Andrew’s things still lingering here sends his mind racing.

In the kitchen, you’re busy slicing the chocolate tart, setting two plates with practiced ease as you fill the silence with the familiar rhythm of preparing coffee. But every now and then, you feel his gaze on you, heavy and searching, like he’s taking in every detail of the room and of you.

Bucky clears his throat softly, his voice low as he leans against the doorway, watching you pour the coffee. “Things… feel different here,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual, but there’s a roughness in his voice that betrays him.

Your eyes follow his gaze to the jacket, and a flicker of understanding crosses your face. You give a small, almost sheepish laugh. 

“Oh, that. He left it here ages ago. I keep meaning to get rid of it, but it’s… just kind of stayed.” You shrug, looking away as if embarrassed by the attachment. “Guess I’m just lazy.”

He nods, the answer somehow not as satisfying as he’d hoped. His gaze shifts back to the room, trying to reconcile this familiar space with the small hints of someone else. 

“Ah,” he says, his tone lighter. “I get it. Hard to let go of things sometimes.”

You nod, a knowing look in your eyes, as if you both understand the layers beneath his words. You hand him his plate, the rich scent of chocolate and coffee filling the room as he takes it, his fingers brushing yours for a brief, lingering moment.

Settling down at the table, he watches you from across the coffee cup, the quiet tension between you only growing thicker. And as he takes a bite of the chocolate tart, the flavors familiar and nostalgic, he can’t help but feel like he’s grasping at something he’s been missing for too long.

You try to focus on your coffee, but Bucky’s gaze is unwavering, fixed solely on you. He takes another slow bite of the chocolate tart, and the way his eyes soften, paired with the slight curve of his lips. It’s like he’s seeing something he missed, something he can’t look away from.

After a beat, you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, unable to take it anymore. 

“What?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, but your heart’s racing too fast.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He just holds your gaze, eyes dark, thoughtful, and a little teasing, as if he’s enjoying watching you squirm. 

“Just… wondering why it took so long to get back here— it feels good to be here. With you.” His voice is low, quiet, but there’s a warmth behind it that makes your stomach flip.

You glance down, biting back a smile, but you can feel his gaze still on you, unrelenting, like he’s waiting for you to look back. 

“It’s just dessert, Bucky,” you murmur, trying to keep the moment light, but your cheeks betray you, a blush blooming under his attention.

“Maybe,” he replies, his tone teasing, eyes glinting. “But it’s the best damn dessert I’ve had in a long time.” He takes a slow bite of the tart, watching you with that infuriatingly soft gaze that makes it impossible to breathe.

"Christ..." you mutter under your breath, barely aware you’ve said it aloud. His gaze is so intense, it feels like he’s peeling away every defense you’ve carefully built.

“Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he murmurs, but there’s a teasing lilt in his voice, like he’s testing just how far he can push.

You let out a shaky laugh, glancing down at your coffee to avoid those piercing eyes. 

“You’re not… it’s just—” You don’t know how to finish the thought, every word slipping away under his unwavering stare.

He lets the silence hang for a beat, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk that’s equal parts infuriating and heart-stopping. Then he leans forward, just a bit closer, his eyes still locked on you, the teasing glint in them intensifying.

“You sure about that?” he murmurs, voice low and velvet-smooth. His fingers toy with the edge of his coffee cup, but his attention never wavers, every inch of him focused on you. “Because if I’m honest… I think I like watching you get flustered. Kind of makes me wonder what else I could do to make you look at me like that.”

Your breath catches, and you feel your pulse race, cheeks burning as his words sink in, every nerve suddenly buzzing. You’re caught, and he knows it, the challenge in his gaze daring you to look away—but you don’t, rooted to the spot, every nerve in your body humming.

But in that moment of stunned silence, something in your expression shifts, your eyes widening ever so slightly. It’s not discomfort, but a soft vulnerability—an openness he wasn’t expecting.

He misreads it entirely.

Bucky straightens abruptly, his face softening as he lets out a quick, self-conscious laugh, breaking eye contact. “I—sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, his smirk fading. “I’m just messing with you. Didn’t mean to… you know, make things weird.”

Your heart clenches at the quickness with which he pulls back, his retreat sudden, like he’s trying to undo the last few moments. You open your mouth, words rushing to the tip of your tongue to stop him, to explain, to tell him he hadn’t made you uncomfortable at all.

“Bucky…” you say softly, reaching out before you can think twice. The moment your fingers brush his hand, he glances up, eyes wide, almost searching yours for permission.

And before you can lose your nerve, you let the words slip, your voice barely a whisper. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable… I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

The tension between you flares back to life, sharper, deeper, as he studies you, realization dawning in his gaze, as if he’s daring himself to believe what you’re saying.

× × × × 

The blizzard outside has intensified, blanketing everything in a thick layer of snow that doesn’t look like it’ll be easing up anytime soon. By the time you both finish your coffee and dessert, the wind is howling against the windows, and the soft glow from the streetlights barely penetrates the wall of snow outside.

You walk to the window, peering out into the swirling white, and let out a small sigh. 

“Looks like it’s getting worse,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Bucky, the words carrying a quiet invitation you don’t fully realize.

Behind you, he steps closer, joining you by the window, his hand resting on the edge of the sill as he gazes out into the storm. 

“Guess I might have to wait it out,” he says, a hint of reluctance in his voice, though his eyes flicker with something warmer as they meet yours. His tone is casual, almost nonchalant, but the unspoken question lingers between you.

You turn to face him, folding your arms, trying to play it off casually. 

“Yeah, probably not the best idea to be out there in this.” You pause, giving him a small smile. “I mean, I have a couch. Wouldn’t be the first time you crashed here.”

He chuckles softly, nodding. 

“Right. Wouldn’t want to risk life and limb just to get home.” There’s a glimmer of amusement in his gaze, like he’s just as reluctant as you are to let the night end.

You manage a laugh, a quiet, slightly nervous sound as you gesture towards the living room. 

“The couch is all yours if you want it. I can grab a spare blanket.” The offer feels both genuine and like an excuse, a small plea for him to stay, if only a bit longer.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice soft, a warmth in his tone that makes your heart skip. “Appreciate it.”

As you disappear down the hall to fetch a blanket and pillow, he lingers in the living room, glancing around the familiar space. He’s barely acknowledged how much he’s missed this—missed you—and now, surrounded by small remnants of your life, it all feels heavier than he expected, like he’s on the brink of something he’s not ready to let go of.

You return with a thick blanket and a pillow, handing them to him as he sets them down on the couch. 

“Here you go. It’s not much, but… I think you’ll survive,” you say, though there’s something tentative in your voice, almost as if you’re testing the waters, hoping he’ll stay a little closer.

Bucky chuckles, sitting on the edge of the couch, his hands settling over his knees as he looks up at you. 

“Yeah, I’ve handled worse, I think,” he replies, his gaze lingering just a bit too long.

A quiet pause stretches between you, neither of you moving. Outside, the snow falls in thick, relentless waves, cocooning you both in this shared moment, and you feel the weight of what’s left unsaid, lingering like an invitation neither of you dares to speak aloud.

Finally, you clear your throat, offering a small smile. 

“Well… goodnight, Bucky,” you say, your voice softer than you intended, and you find yourself hesitating, like you’re reluctant to leave.

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Goodnight, doll.”

× × × ×

Bucky was asleep on the couch. Your couch. Crashing at your place, as he had so many nights before.

The man you wanted more than you’d ever wanted anyone in your life.

You couldn't sleep, tossing and turning and thinking of him lying not thirty feet away from you on the other side of your bedroom wall. He had stayed over countless times, what was it about tonight that had you squirming beneath the sheets? 

God, the subtle, masculine scent of him, the warmth of his body so close to yours—maybe he'd actually seen the little shiver of sexual awareness that had rippled through you during dinner.

Whatever it was, you were suffering now. His smile, his voice, his deep, infectious laugh...so what if he had been your friend since, so what if he could be a bit of a doofus at times—okay, a lot of the time—so what if you were both single now and feeling that familiar itch, that longing, that uncomfortable awareness of being without someone just a bit too long.

Fuck.

You both had talked about this. Once—a long time ago. You had agreed; getting involved wasn't the right thing to do—look how many friendships were ruined by relationships.

You threw back the duvet and swung your legs over the side of the bed, wiggling your toes nervously as you bit your lip. 

You needed a drink, that's what you needed. Not that kind of drink—although God knew you weren't far from it. You needed a cool glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge and maybe some splashed on your face for good measure. 

Then you could come back to bed and read. Or listen to some music. Or... something. You had an early start in the morning, you had to find some way to get some sleep. If you were really quiet, you could slip right past him and he'd never even know you'd been out of your room.

You creaked open your bedroom door and listened for the sound of his quiet snoring. Sure enough, the soft sounds of sleep drifted towards you and you straightened, relaxing a little. 

He was sleeping just fine. He wasn't tossing and turning thinking about you.

You slipped out into the chilly living room, and shivered involuntarily. You'd set the thermostat low in the living room to save energy, completely forgetting to turn it up for his sake, so while your bedroom was toasty warm, the living room was cold and still. 

Guiltily you cast your eyes over his sleeping form, sprawled inelegantly over the couch with one hand thrown over his eyes and one leg up over the back of the sofa. He wore only a t-shirt and boxers, and lying with the blanket kicked to the floor instead to cover himself with, he looked vulnerable somehow, and uncomfortable.

And incredibly, almost achingly sexy.

Your eyes roamed over him in blatant appreciation. He was a powerhouse of strength, with thick, chiseled muscles that seemed almost carved from stone. Broad shoulders tapered down to a torso built from years of dedication, and his arms were thick with veins and ridges that caught the light. 

Your gaze slid down his powerful legs, the defined muscle of his thighs flexing beneath the hem of his shorts. He was the embodiment of rugged masculinity, intense and undeniably commanding. His stubbled jaw caught your eye, and you let your gaze linger on his lips—the lips you’d dreamed of tasting so many times...too many times, in fact. So often that sometimes you imagined the fantasy as if it were a memory. So delicious, so sensual and hot.

Only he wasn't hot—you try to tell yourself. You dragged yourself back to reality, frowning as you looked down at him. He was cold.

You went back to the bedroom and pulled an extra blanket off the closet shelf, and carried it back to lay across his sleeping form. He stirred slightly as you draped it over him, and his eyelids fluttered open.             

“Hmmm…” Bucky mumbled thickly, his voice hoarse and low. “Good morning.”

“It's not morning, it's two a.m,” you whispered. “I was just getting you another blanket. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmmm…” he said, cuddling it around him.

He pulled his leg down off the couch and straightened himself out, stretching languidly, shuddering, like a cat. You loved watching the way his muscles tensed and relaxed. You loved watching him do anything, in fact.

“It's so cold,” You said by way of an unasked-for explanation, and looked away from his body. His eyes were still closed so you could have looked a little longer, but didn't want to risk it.

“Cold?” he murmured. “Just a second.” He pushed aside the blanket and reached for you, tugging you down towards him.

You gasped and lost your footing, sitting down hard on the couch beside him. He pulled you down and enveloped you in his arms, pulling you tight against his chest.

He flipped the blanket over top of both of you. “There. I'll keep you warm.”

A sleepy duskiness coloured his voice, and something in the intimacy of it, the familiarity of it, made your heart flutter rebelliously in your chest. He smelled so damn good, like a mixture of soap and the sweet warm and musky scent of cedar wood. He drew you in closer, molding his body against yours, and God help you, you allowed him. You settled in more comfortably beside him, your leg thrown over his, your arm stretched across his chest.

“I was saying you must be cold,” you whispered. “Not telling you I was.”

“I know.” Bucky said without missing a beat.

You lay there, entwined, quiet, saying nothing more. You rested your head against his chest and could feel more than hear the lazy beat of his heart, and the quiet, smooth passage of his breath. His hand languidly caressed your arm, the rhythm growing slower as he drifted back to sleep. 

Sleep threatened to claim you, too, so you stirred, trying to disentangle from him. You'd have to be near your alarm clock or you'd never get up in time.

“No, don't go,” Bucky murmured as you tried to move. He held you tighter.

“I have to,” you whispered. “I have to get some sleep, I have to get up in a few hours.”

“Stay.”

“I can't.”

He was gradually coming awake, slowly becoming more oriented. He shifted position slightly so that he was more on his side, looking down at you as he rested his head on his bent elbow. He stretched his other arm across you and pulled you closer, gently caressing you back.

“Stay,” he said again. His voice was clearer now. He was fully awake. Still slightly dazed from sleep, but awake.

You hesitated, letting your gaze roam over his face. Finally you whispered, “We talked about this a long time ago, remember?”

“I know. I'm sorry. I just...I want you to stay.”

In the dim moonlight spilling in through the French doors his features were muted, but his eyes—his eyes were large and dark, taking you in with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Bucky moistened his lips, his pupils growing even larger as they roamed over your face and you could feel the pace of his heart pick up and his breathing increase. 

His gaze moved down to your lips and his brow creased in an expression that could have been longing, or frustration, or both. He raised his eyes slowly to meet yours, the haze of desire stealing slowly into his gaze.

“You're not nothing to me,” he said, almost to himself. “That's precisely the problem.”

How on earth were you supposed to resist such a sensual, beautiful, soulful man? Stay? How could you not?

“Please,” he whispered. “Stay. . . I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Your resolve was crumbling as you felt your chest tighten. You looked into his eyes and barely managed to whisper the words. 

“What’s that?”

“This.” 

He lowered his head slowly and kissed you, brushing your lips softly, sensuously, as if in no particular hurry. As if he had all the time in the world to savor you, to taste you, to send pleasure rippling through you with every touch of his lips. He murmured softly as he gently nipped at your bottom lip, teasing your, biting and then kissing-better the lips he was bruising.

You could feel the pleasure he was taking in kissing you, the slow—tortuously slow—pleasure he was enjoying for himself and teasing out of you as he lingered in your mouth. Bucky’s hand slid along your jaw, tilting your face up to him, his thumb caressing your cheek as he kissed you. He broke the kiss and looked down at you in wonder, his eyes glittering in the dim light, then brought your face up to his and kissed you again.

You opened your mouth to him and his tongue slipped in to tangle sensuously with yours. He angled his head from one side to the other, exploring your mouth and pressing kisses along the edges of your lips. You kissed his cheeks, his chin, his light stubble gently razing your lips and making them all the more sensitive. When you found his lips again, their soft warmth was intoxicating and you deepened the kiss, teasing his tongue with your own.

You kissed him back sensually, with equal possessiveness and enjoyment, and knew that your response was emboldening him.

Bucky tensed and pressed against you, his kiss growing firmer and more insistent. His mouth moved over yours expertly, wringing pleasure from you in breaths that came faster and little cries that escaped into the quiet of the room. Your soft moans made him tense even more, and you could feel his arousal along the length of your leg, hard and urgent like the rest of his body. 

You were both warm now, and he threw back the blanket before settling back down on top of you, returning to the slow, rhythmic dance of kissing, teasing, and tasting that was just about driving you mad.

You slipped your hands up over your head, thinking to wrap them around him, but he found them and clasped your wrists together with his left hand and kept them there, holding you down with gentle pressure as he bent to kiss you more deeply. 

The sensation of being held by him, of being pinned down, gently, but with no doubt as to his strength, rushed through you in unfamiliar torrents of excitement. He entwined his fingers in yours, easing up the pressure, dipping his head between your upraised arms to kiss you deeply, slowly, torturously.

As his tongue tangled with yours the fingers of his right hand trailed up the side of your body, stopping at the swell of your breast. He ran his hand over you gently, tentatively, feeling the weight of it beneath him and groaning softly. He slipped his hand inside your robe and cupped you bare flesh, his warm hand gently squeezing, caressing, as he groaned again and grew even harder. His thumb circled over your nipple and you gasped, arching against him at the sudden sting of pleasure. He pushed aside the robe further, revealing your breast with its tight nipple, unbearably aroused by his touch.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, gazing at you breast. He lowered his lips to your nipple and gently kissed it, his tongue tasting and savoring it the way he had just been savoring your mouth.

The wet warmth of his mouth on your sensitive flesh made you ache with a tension and desire you had never felt before. When his tongue swirled around you nipple languidly, when he took the sensitive bud into his mouth and suckled softly, you felt the exquisite torture of it flow down through you body to you very core. How could this feel so damn good? Just the lightest brush of his lips, his tongue, his teeth on your nipple and you felt almost ready to climax.

His free hand slid around to the small of your back and he lifted you gently, sliding you further down the couch and farther under him. You were completely beneath him now, and completely held by him, one strong hand gently pressing your wrists into the sofa cushions and the other splayed across you back while he bent his head and kissed and sucked and teased you breast. You almost couldn't bear the sensation as your nipple grew harder, more tender, and the pleasure started liquifying between your legs.

"Yes..." you breathed. You arched again, wanting him to release you from his mouth and yet hoping that he never would. "Oh my God, Bucky, that feels so good..."

Bucky lets go of your wrists and brings his hand down to your other breast, pushing aside your robe to free you completely. He caressed you, sensuously feeling the roundness of you, and trailed his lips across the rising swell, kissing and tasting and smiling at the way your soft flesh moved under his tongue. He gently grasped your breast and brought your nipple up to his mouth, which grew hard and exquisitely tender under his tongue. His fingers continued to tease your other nipple, the one still stinging from the feel of his mouth on it, still aching to feel it again.

You arched into him, sinking your hand into his hair and pressing him to your breast. The pleasure of his mouth and hands on you was making you weak, making you shiver with pleasure and need, all down the length of you and in between your legs. You could feel  yourself growing wet and ready for him, the pleasure so intense, so unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

You heard yourself moaning softly, whimpering, making sounds you had never made before, all but dizzy with desire and sensation. With every little sound you made he groaned, or his erection surged against you, or he fell onto your breasts again with increased hunger. Your response to him was as intoxicating to him as his mouth was to you—you could feel it in his every movement, his every ragged breath.

“I need you, Bucky.” You pleaded softly. “Please.”

He rose over you, bracing his arms on either side of you. His eyes blazed with heat as he looked down at you, at you eyes, your mouth, your breasts. He took your mouth expertly, hungrily, kissing you fiercely with a dominance that thrilled you. He moved to trail hot kisses down your neck, licking the sensitive skin near your collarbone, barely skimming you with his tongue as if wanting the merest taste. You gripped his shoulders, and turned your head to the side, aching at the sensation of his mouth on you, kissing, licking, tasting. 

You moaned at the feel of his tongue on your neck and the gentle pressure of his lips pressing kisses against your skin. You needed to feel him, to taste his salty sweet skin, his maleness, him.

As if he could read your thoughts he lifted up from you to pull his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. You reached up and ran your hands over his chest, and as he fell on you again his mouth found yours hungrily and his hand slid into your hair, gripping the top of your head possessively as you kissed.

You had never felt so possessed, so taken, so overwhelmed by a man. You broke the kiss and sought his neck, his shoulder, his tense muscles straining as he held himself above you. You branded your own hot trail of kisses into his skin, felt him strain against you at the sensation. You loved the taste of him, so male and wonderful beneath your lips.

"Baby. . ." His voice was hoarse, breathless. 

For one brief moment uncertainty flashed in his eyes and he looked as though he wanted to say something. But when your lips found his again he lost the thought and succumbed to the kiss, slanting over your mouth, teasing your tongue with his.

You ran your hands down his back to the waistband of his boxers, and dipped your hands beneath the elastic to roam over his flesh. He tensed at your touch and you felt him suck in a breath as you moved your hands around to the front. 

He was very hard, and you curled your fingers—which couldn’t wrap around him fully—as you gripped his ass with your other hand. He groaned softly and kissed you even more deeply, surging against you with an almost desperate urgency. You began to stroke him, your fingers gently gliding up and down his smooth shaft until he suddenly let out a groan and broke away, stopping your hand with his own.

“Fuck,” he said breathlessly, heat blazing in his eyes. “I can't. . .”

Alarm flared in you. “What's wrong?”

“I won't last long. . .”

“Oh, is that all?” You gently pushed his hand away and began to tentatively stroke him again.

He moaned, closing his eyes briefly, enjoying the pleasure. “If you keep doing that. . .”

“What?” You prompted, nibbling on his lower lips as you stroked.

“I'll have to fuck you.”

“Good.” You took his lips again and you fell into a rhythmic kiss, as if you had been kissing each other forever. He moaned softly into your mouth as you stroked him, making soft noises of your own into his mouth.

Bucky broke the kiss, his breathing sharp and shallow, and gazed down at you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was quiet, urgent, almost desperate.

“Yes,” you breathed, pushing his boxers down with your free hand. He lifted up his hips to help you and shrugged out of them, kicking them to the floor.

“I didn't mean for this to happen, at least not tonight,” he said, his breath jagged and quiet as you continued to stroke him. “I've wanted you for so long, but—”

“I know,” You murmured, kissing his neck as your hand slid over his thick length again and again. His body was rigid with tension and you tried to relax him with your mouth, your whispers, the feel of your body. But you knew he wouldn't relax as long as you were stroking him. You paused and he relaxed slightly, but his eyes still burning and his breath still came unevenly.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, his eyes showing fear through the haze of desire. Heat blazed between them, and you felt such a desperate need in him that you wanted to soothe him, comfort him. But doing so with words seemed the wrong thing to do.

"Mhmmm," You murmured instead, kissing his jaw, his neck, the sensitive skin beneath his ear. He groaned softly as you ran your fingers over his shaft, teasing, tempting, letting you fingernails trail along the sensitive skin below. You cupped him and squeezed gently as he groaned louder, pleasure that sounded almost painful. you laughed softly, kissing along his collarbone, his shoulder, his neck.

“You know how I feel about you. . . ” he managed, his voice little more than a breath. “Don't you? That I—”

"Shhhh," You said, coming back to meet his eyes. He looked so afraid, so vulnerable, and yet so filled with desire. You knew, then, everything you needed to know. And every word he needed to hear. "Please. . . Baby. . .it's okay. We can talk later. Right now. . .please. . . just shut up and fuck me."

His fear melted into a smile so warm, so open, so full of relief that he almost looked ready to cry. He took your mouth again, arching over you as he claimed you. Before his kisses had been searching and sensuous, now they seemed driven by pure desire. He ground his lips on yours  masterfully, taking what he wanted, what he needed.

You could feel the raw need in him, the need for acceptance, the need to let pure passion overcome his fear. Every meeting of your lips sent another jolt through you, every taste of his tongue made you desperate for more, and you knew he was reeling from the same powerful sensations that you were. You could feel him starting to let go, to abandon himself to you, to enjoy making you abandon  yourself to him. 

Here was the lust you had always hoped was there, the powerful sexuality always just below the surface, the desire you had hoped and prayed he felt for you. It was here, pressed against you, an urgent cock and a hard, warm body, roaming lips and soft, male moans of pleasure and need. A careful heart revealing itself to yours.

You moved beneath him, pressing your hips against him to ease the heat that radiated from between your legs. The ache was exquisite, your need growing more urgent as you felt his erection surge and strengthen.

You felt his hand on your knee and then slowly, so damn slowly, he began to trail his fingers up along the inside of your thighs, which parted so easily at his gentle persuasion. His touch was electric, yet soft and sensual, and wherever his fingers played you felt a fiery tingle that made you shiver. Finally his fingers trailed delicately over your sensitive cunt, teasing you, tantalizing you, until you cried softly, silently begging him to touch you most sensitive place.

With a smile that you could feel more than see, his fingers slipped into your slick warmth and you cried out, a spasm of pleasure overwhelming you. He silenced your cry with his mouth, his tongue tangling with yours  while his fingers slipped deeply inside you and stroked, as languidly and rhythmically as you were stroking him.

“Oh my g—” You cried, writhing at the pleasure of his fingers sliding slowly in and out of you, then pulling out to trail up higher and caress your folds. When his fingers danced over your clit you arched you back, your breath leaving you in a gasp. The electricity of his touch, so gentle and sensuous, sent spasms of pleasure rippling through you. 

He didn't hurry the pace, just stroked you with an even, sensual rhythm as he kissed  you. He was holding you, his arm surrounding you, pressing his body to yours, his mouth never far from your lips, your neck, your ear, his eyes never far from yours. You had never felt so close to someone, so protected in his arms, so cherished and adored.

His fingers dipped down to enter you again and his thumb continued the slow, exquisite torture above. Just when you thought you'd go over the edge he'd pull away, pause, caress a different part of you and send you on the upward spiral again and again, or slide his fingers into you over and over while his thumb swirled and caressed and rubbed, driving you mad with an aching desire. 

He smiled down at you, nipped at your lips, pressed his forehead to yours and trailed kisses down your eyelids, your cheeks, until claiming your mouth again, his tongue mimicking the sweet, sensuous motion of his fingers and thumb.

He grew rock hard in your hand as you moaned with each breath, as you came closer and closer to the edge. You could feel him restraining himself, wanting only to pleasure you, anticipating your climax. But it wasn't what you wanted. On a ragged breath you stopped his hand.

"I want you," you said urgently. "Please, Bucky. . .fuck me."

He gazed at you, teetering on a moment of indecision. His chest rose and fell sharply with his labored breath, and he brought a trembling hand up to your hip and gripped you, holding you, moving to settle between your legs and pausing at your entrance.

"Please, I want you inside me." your voice dropped to a whisper so urgent you hardly recognized it yourself. "Please don't make me beg."

And whatever strength he had left vanished.

"Oh baby. . ." He moved forward and slid into you, a breathless throaty sound of pure male pleasure escaping his lips. "Oh my God. . ."

He paused for a moment, looking down at you with heavy-lidded desire, visibly enjoying the new sensation of being so deep inside  you. You were slick and hot, more than ready for him, and as you body adjusted to him, to the exquisite, aching stretch he was causing, you squirmed beneath him on a moan of primal pleasure. He pulled out slowly, torturously, and slid himself in again, filling you completely.

You closed your eyes and moaned, gripping his ass as he lifted your hips up to him, angling you so he could fill you more deeply. He began to thrust, slowly, rhythmically, his hips moving sensuously, making you muscles tighten around him as he plunged into you again and again, your movements coming so easily, so naturally, so deliciously slowly.

You lifted your legs to wrap them around him, loving the way it tilted you back so that his every thrust felt deeper, felt like it was reaching new depths of pleasure in you.

“Yes, yes, yes. . .like that. . .oh my god, Bucky. . .you fill me up so good.” 

He ran his hand possessively along your leg, pausing to look down at your joined bodies as he thrust into you. He raised himself up, his arms braced on the other side of you to keep his weight off you, and moved so he could thrust more freely, more quickly, building the tempo. He pressed his lips to your forehead gently as he drove into you, his breath ragged, panting, yours matching his intensity and need.

“Ugh—you drive me insane, I love hearing you moan my name—don’t stop.”

You could feel him getting close, nearing the edge of his own release, and he slowed, lowering his head to nuzzle your neck as the rhythm of his hips paused, and then resumed again, more slowly this time, building again, savoring you body the way his lips had savored you mouth, the way his tongue had devoured you breasts. His arm slid around you back again, holding you, lifting you up to him as he took your breast in his mouth and teased it with his tongue. His mouth was hungrier this time, sucking your nipple, flicking his tongue over it with such abandon that you felt it in your core. His passion was growing, and you could sense that his desire to be slow and tender with you was losing the battle against his raw primitive need.

You gripped him, lost in the dizzying sensations he was causing in you. His mouth on you, his hand roaming over you, gripping your ass as he thrust into you in a relentless rhythm. You were limp in his embrace, held in place for him to possess, to plunder, to pleasure. You had never been held like that before, and the primal intensity of it, the feeling of being so completely owned by his desire, overwhelmed  you. You were his, completely, your body as loose as a rag doll in his arms. You gripped his straining arms as he sent pleasure coursing through you, gripping you as he thrust and withdrew, plunged and pulled out, drove into you over and over again in breathless ecstasy.

“Keep fucking me like that—Yes! Oh my God, harder, please. . . B-Bucky!”

Waves of pleasure grew stronger and stronger in you, pushing you towards the ultimate pleasure, building with increasing urgency as his rhythm grew faster and harder. 

“Oh—like that? You like that?”

He groaned as he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breast, and drove himself into you with such exquisite need. You gripped his buttocks, feeling the powerful muscles contracting with each thrust, drawing him deeper into you. When he tore away from your lips and looked down into your eyes you felt the waves rise, growing stronger and higher and faster until with a shattered cry you came, trembling as the pleasure spasmed through you.

His eyes never left yours as he thrust into you, groaning from the exquisite pleasure of your spasming pussy. 

“Shit—fuck, you’re gonna make me come. Ohhhh—” Bucky moaned.

You were so incredibly tight, gripping his cock as you came, milking him as he struggled to last just a moment longer, lost in the heaven of you hot, wet heat. Your cries of pleasure echoed throughout the darkened room and when you whispered his name on a soft, sweet whimper he found his own release, jetting into you over and over again as he cried out in an agony of pleasure and a torrent, a chorus, of your name.

Finally, finally, his hips slowed and he lowered his head and kissed you gently, sensuously, as softly as he had when he had first pulled you down to him. Then he lowered his head to your neck and let himself rest there, lying against you, his heart thundering, his breath ragged and heavy. You lowered your legs from around his waist and wrapped your arms around him instead, cradling him to  you. you rested your head against the top of his and felt your own breath slowing, your own heartbeat returning to normal. His cock was still hard inside you and he shuddered as you clenched around him.

"God, you're incredible." He exhaled a long, deep breath.

He rose up and kissed you, shuddering with each aftershock as his cock surged inside  you. You could feel your inner muscles clenching around him, not releasing him yet, teasing the last drops of pleasure from him. 

He lay his head down against you again, breathing out a sigh that was both release and contentment as the last tremors rippled through him. You loved this feeling, this sensation of his body trembling with the afterglow of pleasure, pleasure you had given him, just as your body was tingling from the intense pleasure he had given you.

He held you to him, sliding out of you slowly, and shifted slightly so that you fit against him perfectly, settling into the warmth and comfort of his arms encircling you.

“Holy shit,” he whispered again, pressing his lips to your temple and leaving them there for a long minute before letting go.

“I'm so glad you stayed over,” you said quietly, kissing the soft skin of his neck.

He stilled for a moment, and you looked up at him, trying to read whatever might be revealed in his eyes. In the darkness both of you were inscrutable, until he leaned closer and bumped your cheek with his nose before lightly pressing his lips to yours for a sweet, soulful kiss.

“So does this mean we're not friends anymore?” He asked, in between luscious nips at your lips.

“You tell me,” you said sleepily, unable to resist his slow, savoring kisses.

You felt his smile as he kissed you languidly, with deliberate slowness, each kiss deepening into something more intimate than the last. Finally his lips stilled and you felt him fall asleep beside you, his breathing soft and slow.

You wanted to stay awake, to freeze this moment in time, to make it last. you wished you could lay there forever, tucked in beside him, your bodies curled to get you. But even as you tried to stay awake, gently caressing the arm that draped over you protectively. you gradually succumbed to a peaceful, contented sleep.

[curlycow01]

Only you: The Chase

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After escaping hydra, you and bucky move to Romania to live your lives in peace, but the universe has other plans

Warnings: None really

a/n: I didn't originally think of making a series, but I had a couple ideas so why not write them down? hope you enjoy my attempt at writing a sequel. thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged the first one. Special thanks to @wintrsoldrluvr and @lanabuckybarnes

Series Masterlist

Only you part 1:

Your breathing was ragged as you willed your legs to go faster in the dark. You were running into darkness, but you didn't care, as long as you got away from them.

Scorching red hands grabbed you from behind, their touch burning deep impressions in your skin as they yanked you back. The hands wrapped around your head to keep it still.

Your gaze landed on a familiar chair and your eyes widened with fear as Bucky was brought in, his shoulder length hair barely covering his eyes, which were so empty, completely devoid of any emotion.

They threw him in the chair and machines tortured him, his screams booming in your ears. You cried out for him, you wanted to move, to do anything to help him but the hands firmly gripped you, forcing you to watch as tears pooled in your eyes. The hands slowly suffocated you, breathing was getting harder-

You woke up with a start, gripping the mattress beneath you as you tried to steady your breathing. "Doll?" You shifted to see Bucky, sitting on a chair, with his elbow on the table.

''I'm okay" you replied in a low voice. "Another nightmare?" he asked quietly. You nodded. You both were getting nightmares since moving to Bucky's tiny apartment in Romania 2 years ago. Sleeping beside each other helped, but Bucky often stayed up at night, watching over you while you slept.

Bucky gets up and walks over to you. He lowers himself beside you and takes your hand, gently rubbing the inside of your wrist. You shift closer to him, needing his warmth. He pulls you to his chest, his light blue shirt matching the color of his eyes. You inhale his scent, which instantly calms you. Bucky senses this. "Better?" he murmurs softly. "Loads" you whisper, already feeling a bit drowsy.

"Take a nap" he suggests, his voice low and soothing. "I'll hold you" he tightens his grip slightly and you're encased in his arms as you slowly drift asleep.

You wake up a few hours later, with Bucky still holding you as he slept. You stayed in the same position, listening to his breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart. He stirred a few minutes, his arms around you loosening.

"Hey" you whisper "sleep well?" "No nightmares" he confirms, his voice raspy. "Same" you smile. Bucky leans back a bit, but his arms are still around you. "I was thinking" he starts. You hum to let him know that you were listening.

"I read somewhere that plums help in remembering things, makes memories last longer." He takes a pause before continuing "Maybe we could go and buy some?" "Sure" you answer "I've never had plums before" He kisses the top of your head "You and me both doll"

After escaping Hydra together, Bucky started remembering parts of his life from the 1940s. He wrote them down in a notebook so he could piece them together and wouldn't forget again. You both visited the Smithsonian, which had information about Bucky during the war. He also read about Steve, who was close to him in the past.

Unlike Bucky, you didn't remember anything about your past, Hydra brainwashed you too hard and broke your mind. You didn't even know your name. Bucky offered to help, but you declined, saying that it would just be a reminder of what Hydra took from you. Your life was with Bucky now, and you were more than happy with it.

A few hours later, you both went to the Street Market to buy some plums. Bucky wore a black cap and a jacket with a brown hoodie. He was wearing a red henley underneath. He always hid his metal arm in public, other than it drawing unwanted attention, he was a little insecure about it. You were the only one who got to see his metal arm, he was comfortable and trusted you with his life.

A sea of deep purple plums were before you. Bucky was beside you, already picking a few. You reached out and grabbed one, feeling the smooth exterior and handing it to Bucky's gloved hand.

"It has spots on it" he observed. "Oh" you frowned, picking another one and inspecting it before showing it to him. "perfect" he smiles. You paid for the plums and both of you stepped on the street. Bucky took a bite out of a plum.

"How is it?" you ask curiously as he finishes eating it. "It's good." he states hesitantly. "But you taste better" he says teasingly, his eyes having a glint of mischievousness as he pulls you closer to him. A blush creeps on your cheeks "Now I'm thinking you had an ulterior motive to buying plums" you mutter.

He suddenly stills beside you, and you gave his arm a slight squeeze. "Everything okay?" "That guy across the street" he whispers "I- I think he recognized us" Your heat skipped a beat. "Should we go and check?" you ask nervously. Bucky moves forward, you following closely behind him.

Before you both could cross the street and reach the guy's shop, the guy bolted from the back. Bucky reached first and glanced at the newspaper on the counter.

You took the newspaper in your hands. The headline in Romanian said: Bombing in Vienna kills 12, including the Ruler of Wakanda, King T'chaka. A suspect was observed at the scene. A blurry shot of Bucky was under it, his face barely visible.

"This isn't true." you say firmly as you slam the paper on the counter "You were here with me this whole time! In Romania!" "You weren't in Germany!" Bucky stayed silent as you defended him. "We should head back to the apartment" you say in a low voice. He gives you a small nod. You both rush back to the apartment, but just as you were about to enter, Bucky steps infront of you. "Somebody's inside" he whispers, his face darkening. "Stay behind me"

He goes inside, his footsteps completely silent. You follow behind and see someone standing near the fridge. Captain America. you realize, the dark blue helmet reminding you of the picture Bucky kept in his notebook.

He turns around and faces you and Bucky, who was still standing infront of you. "Do you know me?" Captain America asks. "You're Steve" Bucky answers, "I read about you in a museum" The Captain places Bucky's notebook on the table. "You're lying" his gaze falls on you. "Who's she?"

Bucky glances at you, his eyes softening before he turns to answer. "Hydra brainwashed her too, but we escaped from them" Steve waits for a moment before speaking "Was that you in Vienna?"

"He wasn't" you answer before Bucky could, and you step beside him. "He was with here with me the whole time." "We don't do that anymore" Bucky finishes. Steve seems convinced. "Well, the people who think that he bombed the Conference are coming here, and they don't plan on taking either of you alive."

Bucky takes off his glove covering his metal hand. "Good strategy" he states in an emotionless voice. "This doesn't have to end in a fight Buck" Steve says. You hear multiple sets of footsteps climbing the floor. "It always ends in a fight" Bucky replies. "You pulled me from the river" Steve says urgently "Why?" "I don't know" Bucky answers "Yes you do" Steve presses firmly.

A grenade is thrown through the window, but Bucky is quick to kick it to Steve, who covers it with his shield, absorbing the impact. Armed Special Forces Soldiers break in through the window with a loud crash. They don't get the chance to fire their weapons as you and Bucky swiftly disarm them and knock them out with a couple of well-placed punches.

"We have to get out of here" Bucky murmurs to you, his breathing slightly heavy. You nod and cross the room and punch through the wooden floor to grab a bag with supplies and few notebooks containing Bucky's writings about his past.

"Let's go" you say, handing him the bag. He straps it to his chest. The door breaks down and more soldiers enter, but you and Bucky leap out the back door and land on the roof of another building. You both start sprinting away from your apartment building.

"SO MUCH FOR LIVING IN PEACE!" you yell while running. Bucky suddenly stumbles forward, causing you to stop running. "What the-" In front of you stood a man covered head to toe in a black suit, his helmet resembling a cat. He lunges forward at Bucky, but you tackle him away, causing you both to fall through the entrance of the tunnel-road.

You fall on your stomach onto the hard concrete, you aren't hurt badly, thanks to the serum. A pair of familiar hands grab you by your waist and help you up. "You okay?" asks Bucky. You nod. "They're still after us". Wasting no time, you both sprinted through the tunnel as cars sped by. A motorcycle was heading your way, threating to collide, but in one swift motion, Bucky grabs it, causing its rider to fall off and replacing himself as its driver. You quickly sat behind Bucky, wrapping your arms around him for support.

The engine roared as you both sped through the dim tunnel. "You know, this isn't how I imagined taking you on a drive" Bucky says with a hint of amusement in his voice as he takes a turn. "We're literally getting chased by a man in a cat suit and this is what you've got to say?"

Your eyes widen as you glance at the rear-view mirror to see the man in the black suit jumping from car to car like a panther, and leaps to your motorcycle, just barely managing to slash the back tire with his claws, sending you and Bucky tumbling to the ground.

The man hovers over Bucky, about to strike, but Captain America jumps forward and throws him back. You and Bucky get up as SUVs pull up and German Police surround you four, pointing guns at your heads.

Captain America stands beside you and Bucky protectively as Iron Patriot flies down, aiming a machine gun at Bucky. "Stand down" he commands "Now" He turns to Steve "Congratulations Cap. You're a criminal"

One of the cops pushes Bucky to the ground to cuff him, and you try to stop him but realize fighting isn't the play here. More chances of getting hurt and therefore reducing the likelihood of escaping. Bucky knows this. 2 cops cuff your hands behind your back and pin you to the ground alongside Bucky.

You shift your head slightly to look at him, your cheek against the cool cement as you gazed into Bucky's eyes. "I made you a promise doll" he whispers so only you could hear. "I'll get us out of here" his eyes burning with fury.

"And I'll tear apart any person who'll try to take you away from me"

[allandoflimbo]

I  C  E    P R I N C E S S  11

Pairings: Popular Girl!Reader x Outkast!Bucky

Explicit Content - Smut - NO MINORS

Summary:

Bucky Barnes is the quiet boy who gets picked on.

The Reader and her friends run with the popular crowd at Stark High.

As the Winter Ball approaches, she is partnered with Bucky Barnes for a class project. They grow close in an inadvertently secret friendship, which later turns into love.

Only catch is…she’s Steve Roger’s ex girlfriend, and before she was partnered up with Bucky, her friends had planned to use and turn Bucky into Stark High’s new it boy to try and get back at Steve; a disgusting bet.

Another catch: She’s a figure skater at the town’s arena every Tuesday and Thursday nights. Bucky works part time at the rink resurfacing the ice. The other doesn’t know.

Modern AU High School fic - later goes into adulthood.

M A S T E R P A G E - FULL SERIES

Warnings: This story will have a lot of angst, a lot of fluff, a lot of cursing, and a lot of sex. Oral, praise kink, body worship, overstimulation, etc. you know me. There will also be loss of virginity in this.

Please support your content creators and writers and leave a review.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

A/n: The chapter you've been waiting for. Smut ahead. Reminder that everyone is 18 or older and consenting adults. :)

The Cabin

The day had started a little awkwardly. Everyone had to find their rooms and unpack. Sam and Bucky were rooming together, Matt and Steve, you and Sharon, and Carol was with Monica. There was a spare room for if your friend Nat decided to arrive tomorrow.

You had spoken to Bucky only briefly, he'd been acting awkward since Steve showed up. He was always so chatty but now with everyone around, it was like he reverted to not speaking as much.

But you don't miss his eyes the way they stay with yours.

Now the popcorn was popped, and the pizza was baked. Closing in a eight pm, the lights were off and the fire in the fire place was blazing. Your eyes would meet across the circle as everyone talked to each other.

At one point, you decided to go into the kitchen for a can of soda when you heard footsteps behind you.

You turned around and the blue-green eyed boy smiled at you.

"Hey." He says.

"Hey, Steve."

You feel a bit awkward as you move through the kitchen and closer to him.

"How are you doing?" He asks softly.

"I'm alright," you answer, you push a strand of hair behind your ear and cross one of your arms over your chest, "takes time, ya know?" You add a chuckle in for the sake of you me sanity. He knows you're talking about multiple things. Your break up, his cheating, your accident, your recovery. He knows you've changed in the last six months and he's admired the girl you've become. He would always respect you.

"How's skating going? I missed your last one. I'm sorry."

You swallow hard.

He sees a far away sadness in your eyes before you respond.

"It's okay." You whisper. You look away from him and to the ground, "I miss him, Stevie."

Steve reaches forward and cups the back of your neck with his right hand.

You blink away tears as his thumb runs over the scar there.

"Oh, Y/N." He says.

"I never thanked you properly for being there for me."

He smiles at you.

"I'll always be there for you."

It's then that you both hear someone walk into the kitchen. You look over to see Bucky standing in the entrance mid step.

You don't know why you overthink the situation. Maybe it's the way he eyes Steve's hand on your neck.

Bucky feels like he's suddenly intruded on something he didn't want to see, even though he had no right to not like it.

"Sorry, I didn't mean—" Bucky mumbles, about to turn back around.

"No, it's okay." Steve says, dropping his hand away from your neck, "Bucky, right?"

Bucky nods.

"I was just telling Steve about my brother," Steve is momentarily shocked, not expecting you'd be so transparent with Bucky, but he doesn't mind. If anything. It just peaks his interest. He doesn't miss the way your eyes soften and the way your voice has taken on a new tone. Bucky clears his throat, "he was there for me through it all when it happened so he knows everything."

It's meant to console Bucky. You don't know why you feel the need to justify this position and make Bucky reassured it's nothing happening. But the words do the opposite of console Bucky.

"I understand." Bucky says. He forces a smile and your eyes meet once more. You're the one that swallows hard this time, "but really it's fine. Just wanted to let you guys know they're about to start a game. I think telestrations or something."

You and Steve both nod and Bucky leaves.

Steve clears his throat and turns to you with a knowing smirk.

You frown at him.

"What?" You ask.

"He likes you."

You blush as you look away from him. You let out a small chuckle.

"No, I don't think so." You say quietly.

Bucky didn't like you. Did he?

"Please. The way he was looking at you?"

You shake your head to yourself remembering all the things Bucky said to you at the restaurant.

"He'd never like someone like me. He's said so himself."

"A sweet girl like you?" You don't say anything as you stare back at the entryway Bucky just walked out of, "and something tells me you like him, too." Your eyes flicker to his at those words.

—-

"That's not fair! You cheated!" Sam yells.

"How the hell did I cheat?" Steve exclaims with laughter.

"You and your damn drawing skills, that's how."

"This game doesn't  even keep score." Carol says, "get over it." She rolls her eyes.

Sam glares at her as he reaches for the Grey Goose bottle, downing the rest of it in one go.

You raise a brow at him.

"Sore loser alert." You mumble.

Everyone laughs.

"You know what, y/l/n?" Sam says once he puts the bottle down.

"What?" You ask playfully and smirking.

He squints at you and a smile fills his face.

"You're lucky you're cool or I swear." He says.

"Alright, enough of this shit." Matt says, reaching over for the telestrations box and packing up everyone's little notebooks.

"Hey!" Sharon protests, "we weren't done."

"I don't care Sharon, let's play a real game. Anyone up for truth or dare?" Matt says with a smirk, "an X rated version?"

You're biting at your bottom lip as your eyes migrate towards Bucky on the couch next to Sam. You pull out your phone.

Let's ditch everyone. Want to see something cool?

You send him the text. You watch as he frowns when he feels the vibration in his pocket and pulls out his phone. He reads your text and smiles.

| Sure. Go ahead I'll be right behind you.

You smile as you read his response. You clear your throat as you stand up.

"I'll be right back, guys." You announce, pulling your black hoodie down.

Sharon looks up at you with furrowed brows.

"Where are you going?" She asks.

"Just outside for a bit. I'll be back." You say.

Bucky feels the butterflies in his tummy as he watches you walk out the cabin and into the night air.

He takes a sip from his Coca Cola can and then places it on the table next to him, next to a stack of Uno cards.

"Alright, who's going to start?" Matt asks, obnoxiously excited. His eyes dart over to Bucky knowingly, but Bucky's patience is wearing thin:

"I have to excuse myself, guys." Bucky says, throwing everyone except Matt a smile.

The girls all smile back at him and Sam and Steve give each other a knowing look with a small smile.

"Okie dokie." Sam shouts, "be safe out there."

Matt's face is in a hard glare as his nose flares, eyes not darting away from Bucky.

He can't help the scorn as Bucky follows behind you out the door.

"I'm tired. I think I'm gonna head to bed." Carol says, yawning.

"Me too." Steve says.

"Same." Sharon.

"You're a bunch of old people." Matt mumbles, marching away.

—-

"Where the hell are we going?" Bucky asks you, following across the large open field and into the woods.

You smile faintly.

"You'll see," you look over at him and smile. His eyes meet yours in an intense stare, and his gaze follows the bridge of your nose, "you trust me?" You ask so quietly he almost doesn't hear you.

"Yeah." He doesn't even hesitate to respond.

"Come on." You say.

You two walk for about three more minutes. Through heavy trees and over a small river that has a log connecting one side to the other as a bridge.

He halts when you stop in front of him. His eyes follow your gaze to the white building standing in the middle of an open field.

It's a white church with black shudders, completely abandoned and half falling apart.

"This is creepy." He says.

You giggle.

"You're safe, don't worry," you grab his hand and you lead  him into the church. The moldy wooden floorboards creek beneath your feet as you step inside, letting the heavy black door close behind you.

You look up at Bucky. His jaw is sharp, handsomely perfect, and his eyes take in the terrifying dark space. Half the ceiling is caved in, exposing the night black sky.

"Stay here." You tell him.

"What?" There's a certain fear in his voice that you find adorable, "where are you going?" He asks as he watches you walk into the abyss of darkness.

You don't respond and Bucky shifts his weight from leg to leg anxiously. He says your name once more and nothing. He licks his lips and is about to decide to disobey your order when he hears a loud bang and a humming sound. Then he sees you perfectly clear as you walk back to him.

He can see you because there's a large chandelier hanging from the partial ceiling that he hadn't seen before and it's hundreds of bulbs glow a bright orange above you. He's speechless as his heart beats like crazy inside of his chest.

You're giving him the brightest smile he's ever seen in his life and you're glowing like the sun. You looked breathtaking.

You motioned  your arms around you to show him to look around and he does. The whole church is glowing and it looks beautiful. Almost as beautiful as you.

"How—" he starts, his voice fading off.

"I found this place a couple years ago when we first started coming here."

"Alone?"

"Alone." You confirm.

"You've never showed anyone else?"

There's a beat of silence.

"No. Just you." You say.

You watch him intently as he walks up to you. He's giving you a look you can't identify. Then he smiles wide.

"I don't know if I should be scared of you or..."

You tilt your head at him.

"Or?" You ask.

You both hear a rumble and your eyes dart up to the sky. Somehow you had both moved to the center of the church.

"I don't know. Something. You're interesting." He whispers, looking back down at you.

You don't realize how close you both are. You're too caught up in this moment to tell.

"You're something, too." You say, a smile pulling at your lips.

He laughs.

And just like that, the skies open up and the rain begins to pour over the both of you.

You look up and laugh.

"We're going to get sick." Bucky chuckles.

The rain picks up even more and Bucky stares down at you. You're soaking wet. Your hair glues to the side of your face and to your shoulders. The rain drops dangles over your lips and your eyelashes.

Somehow, he finds himself grabbing your hand. You squeeze each other tightly.

The lights flicker above you until they finally shut off completely. The rain was getting worst.

Bucky doesn't say anything as he pulls you behind him in the darkness.

For the first time in a long time, you feel truly safe.

Out the church, you both speed walk towards the woods. The trees help a little to shelter you from the rain but it still continues to wet you nonetheless. The cold air didn't help either.

He guides you across the log that's laid over the river, his hands holding your waist. Through more woods and more mud, you're both practically walking puddles.

Both escape the woods and the cabin comes in straight view.

You both make a run for it through the sheets of water, your hands still clasped tightly together.

You find yourself slipping on the mud beneath your now dirty shoes and it causes you to slide to the side and towards the grass.

Bucky laughs out loud as he catches you and you laugh too.

He's got you until you're steady back on your feet and you continue your run inside.

You're at the front door and his hand keeps slipping from the doorknob. He chuckles as he watches you getting even more wet, if possible.

You looked goddamn adorable.

He finally manages to get the  door open and he closes it quietly behind you. You're both still laughing and your shoes squeak over the floor. The cabin is dark, a clear sign that everyone was already asleep,

Bucky is still laughing and your mind is in a daze. You're giggling non stop. Your back is against the wall next to the stairs that leads up to the other rooms and he's standing right in front of you, laughing and smiling non stop.

You place both your hands on his chest as you giggle, and suddenly he's right up against you. Your hands slide up until they are near his shoulders. You can feel him rumbling beneath your hands as he laughs and whispers something you can quite  understand.

"Shhh, shhhh..." you tell him playfully between giggles. He giggles and his eyes crinkle at the sides, "shhh." You say again.

Eventually his giggles dial down, as do yours, and silence engulfs you both.

The rain patters against the glass and ground outside.

Your eyes follow his piercing blue eyes and how they're looking into your own, and then they travel down his nose, and to his lips.

There's no more laughing.

Bucky leans his forehead down against yours and closes his eyes.

Oh, this, this felt like a thousand burning suns.

You find your hands on either side of his neck as his nose hits yours. You both smell like a fresh thunderstorm.

With a sigh he opens his eyes. His left thumb runs over the tops of your cheeks and your eyes meet again.

You feel like you're going to implode when he starts to slowly move in. You find yourself meeting him halfway.

Both of your eyes are halfway closed as his lips finally run over yours in a soft but languid peck.

You're both still when he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again.

In total sync, you both move in at the same time, smashing your lips together in a passionate and dirty kiss.

You find your hand going to the back of his head, near the nape of his neck, and you deepen the kiss even further.

The sound Bucky makes as he tilts his head for better access, letting his tongue run over yours, makes your core tingle and your insides burn.

His right hand is on your waist traveling upwards to your neck. His left hand is cupping your face. The sighs of contentment that you leave on each other is magical and a language of its own.

He slows down his kisses and then fully stops. You're going to ask him what's wrong when he grabs your hand and starts to walk up the stairs.

You've never felt like this before.

This was a first for you.

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him find the spare room that was being unoccupied.

His fingers run over yours as he opens the door and pulls you inside. He locks the door with an audible click and neither of you waste an extra second.

Your kisses are hot and frantic. He's pushing you to walk back towards the bed and you sit on it on your knees. You grab his shirt in a fist and pull him to follow you.

Once he's also on his knees in front of you, he grabs your wrists and leans back to look down at you. Both of your lips are swollen and both of your eyes are dark.

He runs his hand once more over your chin and to the back of your head where your hair runs between his fingers. He leans his forehead down against yours.

Suddenly, you're both nervous.

You've never done this before. You wonder if he has.

You're so shy right now but also so scared; in the best way possible.

"You want this?" His question is hoarse and three octaves lower than it normally is.

You nod.

He kisses you one more time and then his fingers go to the hem of your soaking wet sweatshirt.

Once he pulls it off you, your skin feels much colder and crave his touch. You've got a black tank top on and you help him remove that, too.

You were beautiful. Your perky breasts are the sweetest things he's ever seen and your nipples are hard against the cold air. Left hand to your neck, he kisses you again, letting your tongues dance together.

This time, you help him pull off his own black sweatshirt. He has nothing underneath and your hands immodestly goes to his pecks and down his torso. He shivers underneath your touch.

You're not sure what to do. Since you've never done this, you don't know how much is too much yet. You've only read about scenes like this in books and fanfiction but doing it in real life felt so much scarier.

You knew it was because it was your first time, it would get easier, but you wished it wasn't this scary. Every move you make is determined but hesitant. You're afraid of disappointing him. You wanted this to be perfect.

But you knew that if this was his first time too, it wouldn't be romance book perfect.

But as he removed your shoes and pants, and when you were both just in your underwear, you realized it didn't have to be perfect and that's what made it perfect.

It wasn't about who did what but about what you were trying to express to each other. You hoped deeply that he was feeling the same thing you were.

He's hovering over you. The pillow is behind your head and he's got his left forearm over it. His right hand is on your waist where he rubs soft circles just over your underwear.

You both kiss again, this time his lips catching your bottom one beautifully.

"Bucky." You whisper, hating to break the silence but knowing that communicating is going to be important right now.

"Yeah?" He asks just as quietly, his thumb running over the top of your head.

You maintain eye contact as you shimmy your underwear off and down your legs. Bucky gulps, his eyes darting down as he watches you.

He doesn't miss the way you close your legs involuntarily to shy away from his eyes.

No one has even seen that part of your body before.

"Please be gentle with me." You say.

He whimpers at your words. Not because he doesn't like it but because you sound so sweet.

"Of course," he says, his right hand going to the outside of your thigh. He kisses you again and you moan against his mouth, "I'm scared."  He freezes up at your words. Did he do something you didn't consent to? Did he scare you? Shit. He starts to pull away from you but you grab onto his neck again, "I know it's going to hurt, that's why I'm scared. It's not you. It's that part of me, I never...and I've always heard..." your voice starts to fade away as small tears fill your eyes and  he starts to realize what you were saying.

Bucky doesn't know why he'd always assumed you and Steve had slept together before. Maybe it just seemed to him like it made sense. You and Steve were together for so long and were eighteen already. Bucky wonders why it never happened.

But he's also feeling something else. He's feeling special and prideful. Because you, god how he treasures and admires you. He would never do anything to hurt you ever again and the fact that you will be each others first, it sends a fire through his heart.

He's so happy it's you and he hopes you feel the same way about it.

"I will never hurt you," you trust him immensely even though you know that what he's about to do to your body he has no control over how it will feel. At least not much control, "I've never done this either."  You kiss him when he says that, "it won't be perfect, but that's okay." You whimper, "we'll have other times after this one." He says against your lips. You chuckle at his words, finally feeling more at ease. His words lighten everything for just a moment, but that's it.

"Can I touch you?" He asks against your lips.

You nod.

His lips leave yours and they move to your collarbone. He leaves you three pecks there, then he moves his face back to hover over yours again.  It's then that you watch as he dips two fingers into his mouth and then down to your  core.

You moan quietly as he rubs your clit in small circles. He responds to your moans with his own and he watches your face. Your eyes are closed and the smallest of pants and gasps leave the break of your lips.

"So beautiful." He whispers.

He gains more confidence when he watches you lick your own fingers. You meet his hand.

"Put them inside me." You tell him desperately.

Buck gulps and nods his head. He's never done this. He's watched porn before but actually doing it was different. He doesn't want to disappoint you.

He slides his fingers further down your folds, he gathers something of what's leaking out of you on to his fingers and then slides into you bit by bit with his pointer finger. Then he adds his middle finger.

He stretches his left arm above your head as he looks down at what he's doing to you. He gains confidence and his fingers gain speed and technique, making a come-here motion as he watches you unravel underneath him.

Your hand leaves your clit as his own palm starts to do the work for you.

"Oh, fuck." You groan. It sounds so filthy along with the squelching noises around you and Bucky knows he won't last long the second he's inside of you. He's taking pride in when he sees how he's giving you so much pleasure right now.

He quickens his movements, and you lean up on your arms, looking down at him work you. Your left leg widens a bit and you start to meet his hand with your hips as you feel your end approaching.

You don't care how loud you might be panting and the noise the mattress might be making over the bed. This felt unworldly.

You feel so close that you start overthinking it. What if you became too sensitive and it made the pain worst?

In a matter of seconds you have your hand on Bucky's wrist, stopping him.

You're still panting as he looks at you confused. You don't pull out his fingers, you just hold onto him. You both share a sloppy kiss.

"I want you inside me." You say against his lips.

Bucky keeps eye contact with you as he nods.

He pulls his fingers out of you and your hands go to his boxers.

Bucky hisses when his dick is free. He's already leaking precum and is as hard as a rock. This might be your first time but you know he might not last very long.

That's okay.

Bucky gasps as he feels your small hand wrap around him. It feels softer than you thought it would and heavier. His legs tremble over you as you stroke him once and then twice.

"Fuck,—" he grunts. You look up at him and god if he doesn't look absolutely gorgeous and perfect. He had his own hand on his abdomen as he looked down at you work him just right, "stop, stop." He whines, pulling you off of him.

He grabs your hand and folds your fingers with his. He holds it on the pillow next to your heard. Then he's over you again, and he looks completely enthralled by you.

Your right hand goes to his cheek as you lean up and kiss him softly.

Bucky's thumb from his other hand drags over your top lip.

This was it.

You feel him maneuver and then you feel it. His tip runs from your clit all the way down to your entrance and back again.

You can tell he's already so close and you're so apprehensive.

"I'll go so slow for you, okay? Okay? You don't have to worry with me. I gotcha." He reassures you.

You can only nod as you feel him prepare.

The first inch push isn't so bad. The second still isn't terrible but he can tell you're starting to tense up. You're gnawing at your bottom lip as you stare down. He stops.

"Hey, hey," he says gently, cupping your face, "your tense. Shhh." He wipes the tear that runs down your cheek.

"I'm sorry." You say.

"Don't be sorry. I just need you to keep remembering what I promised you." You nod again.

He waits a few more seconds and then continues. It's the fourth inch that does it for you and you find a shout getting stuck in your throat. It doesn't come out because you're biting so hard on your bottom lip.

"Shh, shh," he says softly, "I got you. I got you."

He keeps going further in and the sting you feel hurts bad, making you almost move up the bed. You gasp, your hand going to his toned abs.

"God." You groan.

"Almost there." Another and another and another.

You shake your head back and forth.

"Just do it fast, Bucky. It's okay." You tell him.

Bucky leans his forehead down on yours and nods.

You close your eyes tightly together until you feel him flush up against you.  He starts with soft thrusts that make you cry softly, but after a few seconds, it starts to go away and you find yourself trying to find his lips.

He moans as you both share a deep kiss and as his hips pick up in speed.

He pulls away from your lips and he moans. It's so hard to keep it quiet when you know everyone outside could hear you. But the sound of skin slapping on skin and your little breaths are too noticeable.

He feels so good inside you, and the way he rubs your clit perfectly in sync with his movements has you feeling amazing.

His thrust get faster and harder and you can see the sweat on his chest.

"I'm sorry, fuck, I can't—" he whimpers, his eyes closing tight. His mouth opens in a gasp as he rams hard into you just once and he's grunting out loud.

You knew this would happen and it doesn't surprise you. It also doesn't disappoint you. You gave him pleasure and you were his first as he was yours. This was everything you wanted.

You let him spill into you and you run your fingers through his hair, pulling his face closer into the crook of your neck where he places little kisses.

He does something you don't expect.

He doesn't stop moving. You know he must be in pain from being over sensitive but he's on a mission for you.

He wasn't going to be a cliche first time where his girl doesn't cum.

"Come on, baby," he mumbles into your neck, his tongue dancing over your hot skin. You feel his fingers on your clit and he starts flicking you fast and hard, "come on." He repeats.

He's practically sobbing at this point as he works overtime to try and get you to cum and fuck, you do.

You cum hard.

You're groaning and moaning and gasping as you grab onto his head and back, eventually your left hand going to the pillow behind your head. You move your hips faster against his rod until you know you've coated him entirely in your cum. Your movements slow down as does his and all you can hear is your heavy panting.

"Oh my god." Almost inaudibly and more to yourself than anything.

He kisses your neck again. He lifts himself just slightly to pull out of you.

He lays down next to you, facing you, and pulls the covers over the both of you.

You're staring at each other, completely lost in the other.

He's trailing your features with his fingers and you're kissing his fingers as they occasionally pass your lips.

He leans forward and kisses your lips once more.

Then, sleep overcomes the both of you.

N E X T   C H A P T E R

[urfavfakeblonde]

🇲​​🇦​​🇷​​🇻​​🇪​​🇱​ ​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​

รⓂυ𝕋 - 🔥

Ｆ𝕃ⓤ𝔽𝔣 - 💫

ᗩⓝᵍ𝕤𝓉 - ⭐

Bucky Barnes

my favorite scar ⭐

[smoooothoperator]

Die With A Smile

01: Can't Catch Me Now

Bucky Barnes x mutant!OC (Astrid Rowan)

HYDRA victims, found family, strangers to lovers, emotional scars, first love

Masterlist

prologue | next part

a/n: Hello!!!! Welcome to the first episode!!!!

If you want to be tagged message me!

I woke up with a loud gasp, feeling how my heart pounded against my chest like a drum. I looked down at my body and sighed in relief when I didn't find a single needle in my arms.

Blinking slowly against the white light around me, I looked around me. The place looked familiar: white walls, beeping machines, too bright lights washing everything in a clinical glow. For a second, panic flared, and I braced for the murmurs in Russian and the suffocating mask pressing down on my face.

 But… Nothing. 

Just an empty room, and the air felt less thick, less threatening. Different. But I didn’t trust it.

I tried to sit up, but my body felt heavy, like I was buried under layers of a heavy blanket. There weren't handcuffs keeping me in the bed, and my clothes were different from what I used to wear. Now, instead of those black clothes they made me wear to not make the blood too visible, I was wearing a white long shirt.

“What is this place?” I whisper, looking around.

As my senses started to come to me, I heard a beep next to me, that was in sync with my heartbeat. 

“Oh, you are awake”

I gasped, fighting against the sheets as a voice broke the silence. A woman with dark skin and a calm gaze stepped into the light. She moved slowly, deliberately, grabbing a chair like she’d done this a hundred times. The room felt smaller, the beeping louder. A trick? No, she wasn’t dressed like them… but that didn’t mean anything.

“Who are you?” I groaned, feeling how dry my throat felt.

“Shuri. And you?” she smiled calmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest and leaning in the back of the chair. “You’re safe here”

Her words hung in the air, impossible to believe. I clenched my jaw, the word 'safe' felt like a cruel joke. Safe? As if she knew what I’d been through. Still, her gaze didn’t leave me, steady and expectant, like she was waiting for something. I swallowed hard, holding onto the one word I could find.

“I…” I frowned, swallowing thickly. “Aetheris”

“Is that what they told you?” she chuckled. “What's your name?”

“I don't have a name”

She looked into my eyes for a few seconds, making me feel somehow intimidated.

“Astrid Rowan” she said, tapping something on her wrist and then making a holographic show up, making me flinch and gasp. “Twenty seven years old. You were captured by HYDRA when you were only four years”

“My name is Aetheris” I frowned. 

“No, it's not” she sighed.

I looked at her, taking a deep breath and trying to calm myself. She's nothing compared to the men that control me. 

“Where am I?”

“Wakanda” she smiled. “Do you know how you came here?”

“No” I frowned. “I only know that… That I escaped the quarters in Siberia and just a second later I was here”

“Mhm” she nodded again, placing her fingers on her chin. “Teleportation, too… From what I found out, HYDRA has been experimenting with your body since you were a kid. They injected in you the DNA of a mutant and somehow it made you have those powers you have”

“You are not telling me something I don't know” I sighed, clenching my jaw. 

“But… What I found curious is that they didn't install the program” she frowned.

“Program? What they did to me is not enough?” I scoffed.

She stood up slowly, moving towards the wall and touching it, and the hologram that was on her wrist was now in the white wall.

“Do you know him?” she said, pointing to a picture.

I frowned looking at the man in the picture, trying to recognize him, comparing him to the men that were always around me.

“Why should I know him?” I sighed, sitting slowly in the bed.

“Interesting…”

I frowned looking at her, then at the picture. I tried to read the text next to it, but it was in a language I couldn't understand, so I looked back at the picture.

“Who is he?” I frowned.

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes” she said. “Also, The Winter Soldier”

The Winter Soldier. Him? It can't be…

“You do know him” the woman said. 

“I heard about The Winter Soldier” I nodded. “But I never saw him”

Shuri looked at the hologram in her wrist and hummed softly, tapping on it with her finger and moving what I looked like a file.

“You know what's curious?” she sighed, walking towards me and sitting again on the chair. “You weren't controlled… At least not like him. While I was doing the medical check I found out that you had something in your nape. Probably because they found out that it's easier to literally control their assets rather than implanting some mind control like they did with the Sergeant…”

“What?” I laughed, shaking my head. 

“Yeah, makes sense” she nodded, talking to herself, moving around the room. “Like… Now you are talking to me. You are reasonable, not a threat to me because I took it off”

“You don't know what you are talking about” I frowned, looking down at my hands.

“I might look young but I'm not stupid. I'm the smartest woman in this country” she said, grabbing a little plastic bag and showing it to me. “This was on your nape”

Shuri held up a small plastic bag, and inside was a thin, metal fragment, stamped with a familiar logo: the twisted, skeletal head of HYDRA. I stared at it, a surge of nausea rising in my throat. 

“A chip?” I whispered.

 All the times I’d obeyed without question, the sudden blackouts, the blood on my hands... because of a chip? It was impossible, yet the evidence gleamed in her hand, mocking me.

“What did you do to me?!” I gasped, panicking, looking down at my own hands, feeling an overwhelming feeling of loss.

“Nothing” she sighed. “I just took the chip, I told you!”

I frowned looking at her, clenching my jaw. So it was only that? A chip? The only thing that kept me linked to them was a chip?

“This is a trap” I frowned. “No. You are one of them. Get out! Get out!”

“Woah, woah, calm down” she frowned. “I'm not one of them. I just helped you”

“Get out!” I screamed. 

I felt the heat sear through me, the wave of ice and fire clawing for release, more feral than before. I clamped my fists, trying to rein it in, but it was useless. My body was slipping from my control. Panic clawed at my mind as the edges of my vision blurred.

Then, darkness swallowed me whole, a cold silence replacing the chaos.

I woke up gasping, my heart pounding like a frantic drum in my chest. The air around me was thick with a suffocating cold that seemed to seep into my bones. I blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, but I was still trapped in that familiar nightmare.

The room shifted and warped, transforming into the sterile confines of my cell in Siberia. The walls loomed closer, pressing in on me, and the oppressive weight of dread settled like a heavy blanket over my chest. The familiar scent of antiseptic and metal clawed at my senses, pulling me back into that dark reality I thought I had escaped

I turned my head, watching the white light flickering above casting long shadows that danced menacingly across the floor. I could hear it, the low hum of machines, the faint beeping that synced with the frantic rhythm of my heart. I shivered, feeling the ghost of cold needles piercing my skin, the aftereffects of injections still coursing through my veins.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside my cell, and my breath caught in my throat. A voice drifted in, guttural and commanding, words spoken in Russian that I could barely comprehend. 

Panic surged within me, making my heart race faster, pounding against the confines of my chest. I moved against invisible restraints, feeling the familiar straps trapping me to the bed, tightening with each desperate movement.

“Stop!” I screamed, but no sound came out. 

The silence swallowed my voice.. I looked around searching for a way out, but the darkness waited like a predator, ready to hunt me.

Suddenly, I was no longer in the cell. 

The world around me shifted, and I found myself in a sterile lab with bright lights shining down, illuminating rows of instruments and machines.

 They were here, the men in masks, their faces hidden behind cold, emotionless eyes. I felt their gaze in me, filled with a twisted sense of purpose.           

“Subject Aetheris” a voice echoed from the shadows, cold and clinical. “Prepare for extraction”         

“No!” I cried, feeling a surge of power bubbling within me, but it was like trying to hold back a storm.

My body moved on its own, like a puppet on strings obeying commands I couldn’t comprehend. Flames sparked at my fingertips, but they danced without my direction, a manifestation of my rage and fear.

“Use them!” the voice barked, and I felt myself compelled to obey. 

My body obeyed with frightening precision, conjuring fire that erupted in a blinding flash. I looked down, horrified, as the flames curled and twisted around my hands as an extension of my rage.

But then the scene warped again, and I was back in my cell.

My breath quickened as I scrambled for a way out, the familiar weight of the cold mask pressing against my face, suffocating me

 I couldn’t breathe.

The faces of my captors appeared before me, their eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction.

“Good little weapon” they purred, their voices echoing around me, as a sinister chorus that threatened to drown me.

“No!” I screamed, my voice finally breaking free from the confines of silence. “I am not a weapon!”

But the walls didn’t listen. They closed in, suffocating me, and I felt myself slipping away, the fire inside me flickering weakly. I closed my eyes, trying to summon the strength to fight back, but the coldness returned, and I was swept into darkness.

Then, just as quickly, the darkness exploded around me. I felt the flow of my powers erupting like an uncontrollable force that shattered the illusion of my cell. 

The walls crumbled, disintegrating into ash and smoke, and I was consumed by the chaos. My flames roared, ice shards cutting through the air, a whirlwind of elements responding to my desperation.

But in the eye of that hurricane, I felt a hand reach out, pulling me from the abyss.

“Wake up, Astrid” a deep and raspy voice whispered, and the world turned black, again.

But this time, the only thing I could sense was a sweet perfume, something that helped to keep all those nightmares and illusions away.

I woke slowly, as if I was surfacing from beneath deep water, the familiar tension in my body easing away and leaving only a faint ache in my muscles. My eyes adjusted to soft, warm light, not the sterile glare I was used to, and I took a slow breath, catching a scent I didn’t recognize, something floral and fresh, with an edge of earth. It felt safe, though the notion of safety was as foreign to me as the room I was in.

The room was painted in warm, earthy tones, nothing like the clinical white walls I grew accustomed to. No beeping machines, no men in white coats or metal restraints. Only soft colors and shapes, and the gentle lines of the fabrics hanging loosely in front of me, in shades of red, blue and purple.

Blinking again, I spotted a small lavender flower lying beside the pillow. I reached for it cautiously, running my fingers over the delicate petals, and brought it close, letting the scent ease through me. 

Lavender. 

I closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of it. And in that moment I remembered how familiar the scent was, something that came into my dream not long ago.

I shifted, sitting up slowly. My body, for the first time in years, wasn’t confined or heavy with injections, and though I was dizzy, I felt an unexpected lightness.

I touched the clothes that laid on my feet, curious. They were soft, loose, nothing like the dark, tight uniforms they kept me in, the ones that hide blood so well. Here, everything was colorful, from the purples to the vibrant reds, colors that whispered of something more than survival.

Preparing myself, I moved off the bed, half expecting alarms or footsteps to thunder outside the door.

But nothing happened. The silence of the room settled around me like a strange kind of freedom. 

I made my way to the balcony door, lavender flower still in hand, and opened it carefully, stepping outside and leaning on the railing.

And then, everything changed.

I was no longer surrounded by walls, no longer held in the cold confines of steel and glass. Instead, the world opened up before me: a world unlike any I could’ve imagined. My breath caught as I looked around, seeing buildings towering high, their sleek, metallic designs softened by lush greenery that seemed to grow straight from the structures themselves. Paths curved gracefully around trees, and flowers bloomed in explosions of color beneath suspended walkways and holographic displays.

People moved through this place with ease, some smiling, some caught in conversation, all dressed in bright colors that echoed the world around them. No one hurried, no one hid. It was as if this place, with all its beauty and advanced technology, was alive in a way I didn’t know was possible. 

I took a step forward, then another, unable to stop staring. The ground was warm beneath my feet, a gentle reminder that this wasn’t some dream I would wake from.

I walked cautiously, half expecting to feel a jolt of warning or a sudden rush of control in my blood that would send me back to the cages. Instead, all I felt was a strange calm, a sense of presence that unnerved me as much as it intrigued me.

I lowered my hand, watching it shake slightly as I tried to process what this meant. How could a place like this exist, so… alive and beautiful? And what was I, trapped in HYDRA’s brutal mold, supposed to be here?

The question filled me with an unfamiliar crave, a hunger to know, to understand what this place was and how it worked, to find pieces of myself in the stories that seemed etched into every corner. 

For the first time, a question cut through the fear: Who was I, really? Was there more than what they had made me?

A voice called my name, soft but certain, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turned to see Shuri approaching, her expression warm but watchful, like she knew exactly how overwhelmed I felt. She didn’t move closer, just watched, letting me feel this moment on my own terms.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she smiled, nodding toward the world before us. Her voice held a confidence I’d never heard before, something I could almost trust. “Take your time, Astrid. You’re safe here”

Safe. 

I repeated the word in my head, trying to make sense of it. For now, it was enough just to breathe, to feel the lavender flower in my hand, to look at this world around me.

“Safe” I nodded, bringing the lavender close to my nose. “I am safe”

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