#bucky and sheet masks

[justiceiswater]

isnt that just the sweetest cutest thing youve ever seen!

I'm a H O E for domestic Bucky. Would you write a fic where reader and the women of the Avengers introduce Bucky and Steve to spa days? Like the guys walk in on Girls Night and they get pulled into the hair/face masks, mimosas,..

After missions, Bucky ran

That was how he decompressed and cleared his mind

Steve usually went with him. Sometimes Sam too

Then he walked back into the compound, covered in sweat, to hear a groups of giggles

He smiled when he instantly recognized one for yours

But then he wondered who was stealing that sound when he wanted it to only be directed toward him

Him and Steve walked into the living room to find you, Wanda, and Nat lounging on the couches in yoga pants and baggy sweatshirts

You were wearing one of his favorites: a black hoodie of his

But then you turned to face him and he stopped walking

“Nat, what did you do with my girlfriend and who is this green monster?” He asked

You giggled at his antics

You were wearing a bright green mud mask. Despite that, you jumped up and gave him a quick kiss and added, “Hey, handsome.”

“What in god’s name are you girls doing?” He asked as you returned to your spot on the couch

The three of you break down what a spa day is

Mimosa, Bloody Marys, sheet masks, mud masks, pedicures, manicures, tea, and utter relaxation

“I thought we were going to hang today, doll…” Bucky mumbles to you

It’s practically a whine. The poor puppy that just wants you

“You’re more than welcome to join us, Barnes.” Nat replies

Which leads to Bucky plopping himself on the couch next to you and letting you and the girls put whatever on his face and pouring him a mimosa

“Man, you are so whipped,” Sam interrupts an hour or so later when he finds the sight before him

“I don’t understand how self-care and relaxation has been dubbed as a feminine act by society,” you snap back. “Just admit it, Sam, you want in. Stop robbing yourself of these pleasures.”

“I don’t get how taking care of one’s self – especially hygienically – is such an attack on masculinity.”

Bucky always smiles proudly and lovingly at how you can always put anyone in their place with your clever retorts

Sam begrudgingly realizes that you’re right and joins in

Then he wrangles in Steve, who returns to the living room just after getting out of the shower

Soon you, Wanda, and Nat are guiding the three men on all the products and teach them the art of pampering

After that day, Bucky and you start a habit of doing sheet masks when either of you are stressed out…or just bored

Bucky is amazed that he can actually see a difference in his skin and even hair (after you convince him to use a hair mask or two)

It becomes common for the team to walk into your apartment to find you and Bucky watching a movie with face masks on

They make fun of you two, but secretly they think it’s adorable  

Then you had the brilliant idea of getting him a whole spa package for his birthday including an hour long facial and message

But his reaction confuses you

“What’s wrong, Buck? Do you not want to go?”

“It’s just – Are you gonna be there?” He asked

“No, it’s a treat yourself day! You get it all for yourself,” you beam.

“But… the whole reason I got into this stuff was because it was something to do with you and it makes you so happy that it started making me happy. Can you come with?”

His sincerity nearly ripped your heart right out of your chest

“Yeah, Bucky…Of course I’ll come with you.”

[sinner-as-saint]

scary? my god, you're divine

Hitman/Mob!Bucky x Reader 

Run-through: Your marriage to Bucky Barnes was crucial in stopping the rivalry that had been getting rather violent recently between the two families. You agreed to it. But there was one little problem. Although people knew of Bucky as being a ruthless, fiercely loyal, and feared hitman, no one had ever seen his face. In the rare occasions when he’d been seen out during assignments, it was rumoured that he always wore some sort of mask which covered most of his face. So you ended up marrying a man, and had no idea what he looked like. But surely that wouldn’t be an issue. It’s not like his one touch would get you addicted. Who cared what he looked like? It’s not like you could grow to love someone like him anyway… right? 

Themes: arranged marriage, age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, bucky’s in his late thirties), mentions of violence and death, hitman!Bucky, smut, fluff, explicit language, virgin!reader, HEA

Something woke you up in the middle of the night. 

And you’d been staring at the dark ceiling above your bed for the past few minutes now. What had woken you up? It could’ve been the strong winds hitting the large Georgian windows. Or perhaps it was the soft ticking of the nearby clock. Or maybe even the weight of all the incessant thoughts running through your head. 

Gods, you thought, what a day. 

It had started out like any other. Your father was pacing around, worried and barking orders on the phone, trying to find a way to put a stop to this chaos that was quickly forming into a full war between him and his number one rival. Small attacks had turned to frequent drive-bys, threats had turned into taking turns and blowing up each other’s warehouses and clubs. And it would only get worse and worse. 

But this morning, as he watched you come downstairs and into the dining room for breakfast, something in his eyes was different. And you could tell what was coming. You had been thinking about this for days. So when he sat you down and discussed how you could do your part in helping to put an end to all of this. 

“It’s only a matter of time before he sends his son, his favourite weapon after us all,” Your father sounded defeated. “And none of us would survive him. No one ever does. You know that.” 

You nodded, understanding what he meant. “I know.” 

The son of your father’s rival, Bucky Barnes, was a name which could make even powerful men like your father tremble in fear. He was like a ghost. No one ever saw him. No one knew what he looked like. Those who had seen him claimed that he always wore a muzzle-like mask to conceal his identity. He was known for being his father’s most prized weapon. They say he never misses, that his aim is and has always been as sure as Eros’ arrows. He was like an evil Cupid. 

“The marriage would only be on paper of course, you don’t have to live with him.” Your father explained, seeming desolated, “But you being married to him would make us family, and…” He trailed off, sighing. 

But you knew what he meant. Family meant everything in this society. If your family and the rival’s were joined to each other by marriage, all attacks would cease. Because keeping family safe was everyone’s number one priority, even in this line of work. 

So this was all up to you now. Your family’s safety, the safety of people who worked with and for your father, all the allies, and friends, and acquaintances. It was a heavy weight to carry. 

“I’ll do it.” 

Things happened so quickly after that. Phone calls were had, arrangements and deals were made, and by the afternoon, a sheet of paper was brought to you. That’s it. No groom, no fancy shit. Just a piece of paper on which Bucky Barnes had already signed. And with your signature added next to his, you two were now forever husband and wife by law. 

It was weird, being married to a man you had never seen before. He was just a name. Granted, a name with immense magnitude in the society, but still just a name. No face to go with it. 

By the evening, your things were packed. It was an order by your new husband. He wanted his new bride in his home, and things were so freshly mended that neither you nor your father wanted to argue. So Bucky sent cars and a bunch of his soldiers to escort you to his house. It was not unexpected that he was so absent from all this. Bucky Barnes had a reputation of living in the shadows. He was so rarely seen.

Bucky’s house was not too far from your family home. In fact, the closer you got to your new home, the more you realised that despite everything, you did not mind this as much as you thought you would. 

Your husband’s home was this stunning piece of architecture. A lavish Georgian-style mansion. Beige stone, carved details and mouldings around the many windows and main entrance. Dark shingles on the roof, well-manicured lawn, a long driveway giving it a sense of both elegance and exclusivity. The mansion sat on a beautiful, seemingly endless estate. Lush and green. It was a testament to the wealth and the power of its owner. 

You were politely led inside the home by one of the many staff members who took care of the house. And the interior was just as breathtaking. Luxurious, with the right amount of vintage accents. 

“We did what we could with the limited time we had to prepare a room for you.” The kind lady had said to you. She also mentioned that this room would be entirely yours. Bucky apparently had his own on the other side of the mansion. 

You murmured that it was alright, and when she finally showed you to the room they had ready for you, you were pleasantly impressed. The layout, the colour theme, the decor, all of it was to your liking. You even had a personal little balcony which looked over the endless green backyard. 

That night you dined alone, which was not a surprise. Everyone knew Bucky Barnes was a busy man, and he was apparently above trivial things like dining with his new wife. But the silence was welcomed. After dinner you found yourself back in your bedroom, and soon in bed with a book. 

Well, maybe this was your new life now. Grand mansion with an impressive library. Solo dinners and kind staff members. A giant, dreamy bedroom all for you. Dare you say, it wasn’t too bad. 

–

But here you were now, unable to fall back asleep after some mysterious thing woke you up. You sighed, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. You couldn’t even blame your new surroundings for your inability to sleep. Everything here was so quiet, and comfortable. Even this new bed felt like laying on the fluffiest cloud. Perhaps you could read some more–

You froze when you heard it. 

Someone breathing. Someone else’s breaths. A soft exhale, but it was enough to make your heart race in panic. It was the middle of the night. And there was someone in this dark room with you. 

Slowly, you tried to reach for the lamp on your bedside table to turn it on, but then you heard a voice say, “Don’t.” 

A smooth, relaxed, male voice. Sounding like it came from one corner of the room. It could only be one man, couldn’t it? 

“Bucky?” You questioned, for some reasons pulling the covers up to your chin as if he was not a man but a ghost. 

A pause, then he said, like he was gently teasing you, “Hello, wife. Can’t sleep?” 

You blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness better. You strained your eyes until you could see the silhouette of a man in the corner of the room. He was sitting in one of the sofas near the unlit fireplace, quiet, still like a marble statue. 

There was almost no light coming into the room. The thick curtains allowed very little moonlight in, and it was hard to see. But you couldn’t ignore that large silhouette now that you’d noticed him. Something near him was shiny, almost metal like, you couldn’t tell what it was. 

“Do you always lurk around in the shadows like a ghost?” You asked, wondering where the hell you found the confidence to talk to one of the finest hitmen like this. It’s not like he would shoot you if he didn’t like you. A small voice said. Would he? 

A chuckle. Deep, and careless. A boyish sound. 

“It’s my house,” He responded in that same gentle but teasing tone, “I lurk wherever I please.” 

Well, he did have a point there. 

“Well then,” You said in a casual tone, “If you’re done lurking and spying on me, I’d like to go back to bed.” 

A soft scoff. Then he said, “I’ve watched you toss and turn for the past half an hour. I’d say you’re having trouble turning your brain off.” 

Half an hour?! 

“Wouldn’t you?” You retorted, keeping your voice calm and steady. “If you were forced to marry someone who’s so mysterious that no one’s ever seen them before, wouldn’t you have some trouble turning your brain off?” 

“Ah.” He got up, and you could tell by the sound of his footsteps that he was approaching the bed, “No one forced you to marry me. A suggestion was made and you agreed to it.” 

You replied quickly, “The alternative was watching everyone I love and myself be murdered by you, so semantics.” 

Another chuckle as he stopped at the edge of the bed, so close to you. You refused to move. You tilted your head up but could still only see his silhouette. He spoke in that teasing tone again, “They said you were smart, and beautiful. Guess they forgot to mention you were bratty too.” 

You frowned. “What?” 

Silence. Then he began moving away from your bed and towards the door. “Good night, wife.” 

“Good night,” You muttered, slightly annoyed and confused, “Ghost.” 

You heard his soft chuckle right as he shut the door behind him and left you all alone again in the dark. You didn’t dare turn the lamp on even after he left. 

— 

“Is Bucky ever home?” 

You asked one of the staff members at breakfast the next morning. The lady smiled at you and answered, “He keeps to himself. We rarely ever know if he’s home or not. He works at odd hours, you see? Besides, our job is to take care of the house. We clean, we make the meals and leave them in the fridge, we get our paychecks each month. Everyone is happy. We don’t pry.” 

You nodded, sipping on some tea. “So… are you one of the people who don’t know what he looks like?” 

“Oh no. I saw him recently.” She said, smiling. 

“How recent?” You asked. 

“A couple of months ago. He’s a busy man, he’s rarely ever home.” 

Unbelievable. 

“Doesn’t it feel like you’re employed by a ghost?” 

She smiled again, refilled your cup and said, “Oh, we’re used to Mr. Barnes. Sure, sometimes it feels like the house is way too empty. But look, now you’re here! We get to take proper care of someone for once.” 

She was so cheery and kind that you couldn’t help but smile at her words. How on earth did a man that grim manage to have the best staff members in the whole world? 

— 

The following night, Bucky came to see you again. 

You woke up upon hearing the door of your bedroom opening. You sat up again, leaning against the headboard. You didn’t reach for the lamp on your bedside table this time. Instead you said, “Lurking again, I see.” 

“Oh yes,” He answered, taking a seat on the same sofa by the dark fireplace. “How was your day, wife?” He asked, as if this was the most normal way to have a conversation. 

“Good.” You said, “I spoke with your staff members. They say they barely ever see you at home.” 

He sighed, “I barely ever am at home.” 

You rolled your eyes even though you knew he couldn’t see it. He was too… intangible. Faceless. There was nothing you knew about him aside from his profession. And not knowing was starting to annoy you. 

“Why can’t I see you?” You asked. “I mean it’s not fair. I married you. I’ll eventually see you someday.” 

He was silent for a moment. Then asked, “Will you?” 

“Well, yes.” 

“What for?” There was that teasing tone again. So subtle. But it was there. 

Your face burned. “Well… we’re married.” You stated the obvious. “And it won’t be long till our families start asking for, you know, grandbabies.” 

“Babies can be made in the dark.” His smooth voice felt like a gentle caress. Like the finest, cool silk sliding over your warm body… 

Oh no. You can’t like his voice. Not yet. 

“That’s not what I–,” You sighed, “Why are you so against showing your face? Are you ugly?” 

He chuckled then. Loudly, if you could see him you’d surely see his shoulders shaking. “You think too much, wife.” He got up again, ready to leave. “Good night.” 

You sighed, defeated, and listened to the sounds of him leaving the room. Then almost angrily whispered, “Good night, husband.” 

—

“It’s because he’s ugly, isn’t it?” You asked two of the staff members one morning while they set the table for your breakfast. “That’s why he doesn’t show his face?” 

The two ladies chuckled to themselves, and one of them said, “No he isn’t.” She sounded confident too. 

“Have you seen his face? Like properly?” 

They both nodded. 

“And? You don’t find it weird that he doesn’t show his face?” You questioned. “He refuses to let me see him. He only comes to talk to me in the dark. Like some messed up Eros.” You whispered the last part to yourself. 

One of the ladies said, gently, “Give him time. He’s not… terrible.” 

— 

“Your staff speaks highly of you.” You said to him when he came to see you that night. Again, sat in that corner like a ghost whose only purpose was to haunt your bedroom specifically. 

“Do they?” 

“Yes,” You made yourself comfortable, leaning against the headboard like you had the habit of doing. “Do you pay them to sing your praises?” 

He chuckled. “Is it that hard to believe that I’m not some sort of monster?” 

You sighed. “If not then why can’t I see you?” 

“Not yet.” He said. 

“Why?” 

“Because I said so.” He replied, and by the sounds of it, he stood up. Surely ready to leave. “Now, is there anything you need?” 

You tried to see if you could tell where he was standing but the room was too dark. However, it seemed like, judging by the sound of footsteps, that he’d gotten closer to the end of your bed. “There’s nothing to do around the house. The ladies take care of everything. I appreciate the library, but…” 

He was quiet, like he was thinking. Then said, “I’ll see to it.” 

“I’m assuming you won’t let me go back to work in my family’s companies.” You could tell he wouldn’t. 

“No,” He said, as expected. “You’re my wife now. I’m well equipped to provide for you and see to your needs for the rest of our lives. But if you have any hobbies, please, indulge away.” 

Something about his calm tone made you confess your little secret, “I like to paint. I’ve always wanted to be an artist.” 

You didn’t know why you were telling him all this. Perhaps the dark helped you open up better. Maybe the fact that you didn’t know him made it easier to talk. Like how people tend to prefer texting over calls. Him being so invisible made it so much more effortless. 

You continued, “I always wonder what it must be like to have an exhibition of my works.” You chuckled. “I know it sounds vain but… I’ve always wanted to let my mind and soul leak all over canvases, and share it with the world. I think it’s such a brave thing when people do that.” 

He was quiet for a few seconds, then spoke in that teasing tone, “Painting, huh?” 

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t get to make fun of me, ghost.” 

He chuckled. “Get some sleep, wife.” 

And then he left. 

— 

The following morning, you woke up to two surprises. 

The first one was waiting for you at the breakfast table. You noticed the box on the floor immediately. It was partially opened, and had a note stuck to it. 

The note read: ‘Since there’s nothing to do around the house…’ written in a messy handwriting. Surely Bucky’s. 

You opened the box and in there, on a folded blanket, was a sleeping, fluffy little puppy. A black lab it seemed. With a pink collar around her neck. You gasped as you gently picked it up and couldn’t resist bringing it up to your face. Puppies always smelt so good. 

The little one yawned and let out some cute noises as you held her up to look at her properly. By now the two ladies whom you saw frequently around the house walked up to you and one of them said, “He left something else for you.” 

You followed the ladies, new puppy in hand, and they led you to what seemed like a newly built studio. It was in an area of the mansion where you didn’t go very often. And as you walked in, you gasped in surprise for the second time that morning. 

It was located on the ground floor. A bright and spacious space. The beige walls felt like a giant blank canvas in itself. The large Georgian windows allowed the perfect amount of light in. And everything in the room was neatly organised. Art supplies, paints, canvases, palettes, easels. 

Oh, it was perfect. 

The ladies left you to explore on your own, saying something about bringing you breakfast in here. But you were distracted by the bright yellow sticky note on one of the easels. You walked up to it and it read: ‘For your mind and soul to leak all over. Paint me something. I’ll consider it a wedding gift.’ 

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you read and re-read the note left by your mysterious husband. You whispered to your sleeping puppy, “Maybe our ghost isn’t so bad, huh?” 

-

Hours went by. 

The ladies brought you and the puppy your meals, a bed for the pup, snacks for you, all while you were busy letting your creativity flow as much as possible. 

The first few canvases were horrible according to you. You hadn’t picked up a paintbrush in so long so it felt like day one all over again. But gradually, over the next few canvases, you could see what your brain was trying to create. 

The blank canvas soon turned into flowy shapes. Curves, facial features, hands. Entwining bodies. Two of them. And the colour purple, lots of it. It didn’t make too much sense at first, but the more you worked on it the more you realised what you were painting. 

It was your version of ‘The Abduction of Psyche’. How fitting. 

By the time you were done and happy with it, your back was aching from sitting on that stool all day. It was almost time for dinner. The sun had set. The puppy was awake so you held her up to show her the canvas and asked, “You think our ghost will like it?” 

She let out the tiniest, softest howl. 

“Yeah, I think so too.” 

You left to shower and have dinner. Then once it was time for bed you asked one of the staff members, “Does Bucky have some kind of an office?” 

She replied saying yes he does, and that she could show you where it was. You grabbed the not yet dry canvas and carefully carried it all the way to where Bucky’s office was. The lady again left you all by yourself to explore. 

At first you didn’t want to spend too much time in there. It was Bucky’s space after all. But then you thought, if he was comfortable walking into your bedroom at odd times during the night, why shouldn’t you check out his office? 

So you did. You left the canvas where it could dry without any problem and where Bucky would see it upon entering the room. Then you began exploring. The room was not what you were expecting for someone like Bucky. You thought it would be less… old school. 

He had a vintage looking typewriter on his desk for gods’ sake. Not one he used of course, but it added layers to his character you thought. Dark wooden furniture, comfortable looking chairs, more bookshelves filled with cloth-bound books. It was… cosy. 

So cosy in fact that you grabbed a book and made yourself comfortable on one of the chairs. You’d read for an hour or so then head off to bed, you thought. 

But soon, you drifted off to sleep. Right there. In Bucky’s office. 

-

You woke up and felt something soft and fluffy moving around on your lap. You opened your eyes and quickly realised you weren’t in bed. The room was dark. With very little light coming in from the outside. There were no curtains in this room, but also it was situated in an area of the mansion where very little moonlight came in.

Before you could panic though, a voice spoke up from not too far away, “You’ve been busy today, I see.” 

Ah, Bucky. And fuck. You’d fallen asleep in his office. 

You refused to feel embarrassed. So you asked, “Did you like your wedding gift?” 

“Yes.” He replied, and gauging by the sound you could tell he was sitting at his desk, in the darkest corner of the room. “I’ll hang it in my office.” 

You smiled in the dark, feeling a little proud of yourself. “And where’s my wedding gift?” 

“In your lap.” 

Fair. 

“What should we name her?” You asked, reaching to caress your puppy who let out an adorable grunt. “Hedone? Donnie, for short?” 

He let out a chuckle. “You are really leaning into this whole Eros-Psyche thing, huh?” 

You shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t have to if you’d just show me your face. But you keep choosing not to, so deal with it.” 

A pause. Then he asked, “You like your new studio?” 

That made you sit up straighter. “I love it. Thank you.” Then you added, “My family always thought painting was a waste of time. They said it kept my head in the clouds too much. That it was… pointless.” 

He was quick to say, “It’s not. Besides, your hobbies don’t have to make sense to anyone else but yourself. And I’ve seen the other canvases you left in the studio. They’re good.” 

You turned to face the dark corner he was in. “You think?” 

“Yes,” He said. “We can hold an exhibition if you want. Let me know when you’re ready.” 

You let out a surprised chuckle. And when he didn’t laugh you realised he was serious. “Bucky, it's not so easy.” You explained calmly. “There’s so much work that goes into it, there needs to be some cohesion to the art pieces. There’s marketing, there’s research, there’s…” You exhaled, “There’s a lot of work to be done. Art exhibitions aren’t as easy or quick as you think it is.” 

He replied, “Leave all that to me. Just let me know when you want to hold one.” 

Just like that? 

“I… okay.” 

You felt warm in a way you’d never felt before. No one had ever taken your interests so seriously before. You’d never even been able to discuss this freely about your hobbies. And here Bucky was, ready to listen and interact with it. 

You got up to leave because this was… a lot to process. “Well then. Good night, Bucky.” 

A soft scoff. “Think I liked it more when you called me a ghost.” 

You smiled as you approached the door, puppy in hand and amazed at how well you were able to navigate in the dark. “Night, ghost.” 

He gave you a satisfied hum, then, “Good night, wife.” 

— 

It was bizarre to admit but you’d gotten used to those conversations in the dark with your husband. Days went by quickly given how engrossed you were with painting. Especially with the thought of a potential exhibition now in the back of your mind. Gods, that would be a dream. 

And while your days consisted of painting, playing and training your puppy, exploring more and more of the grounds and your new home, making quick trips to the stores to get more supplies, catching up with your friends who were still trying to grasp the fact that you got married so quickly, getting to know the household staff and the guards better, your night consisted of waiting and fighting your sleep until Bucky came to talk to you. 

It was always short conversations. Filled with easy banter and teasing tones, sarcastic comments and you asking each and every night if he was in the mood to show his face. Bucky always said no. And you always sent him off with a ‘good night, ghost’. 

You had gotten used to your ghost. As had your puppy. She would bark happily each time Bucky would enter your bedroom door at night. She’d run to him for playtime and cuddles as he sat in his dark corner and spoke with you until you fell asleep. 

Bucky would often leave you some kind of a note, for you to read in the morning. At the breakfast table, or in your studio. Sometimes he would leave compliments and comments on your dry canvases. Eventually, you stopped fighting the smiles which formed on your face as you read his notes. 

But all of it only made you want to see him more. Not that it would change anything. Bucky had quickly become… a friend, you’d say. A confidant if you will. He had become a habit. Part of your routine. 

And then one night, he didn’t come to see you. 

You waited. He usually came around midnight. It was well past 2 a.m. and he never came. 

At some point you went downstairs, pretending as if you just needed some water. One of the guards caught you trying to peek out into the driveway from the kitchen window. 

“Boss is not home yet, ma’am.” He said. 

You acted like you didn’t care. But still asked, “He does this often?” 

“Sometimes.” 

You nodded. You took your drink and with your puppy in your arms you walked back upstairs, passing by the many guards who were on duty inside the house at nighttime. 

“It’s alright, he’s probably just busy.” You whispered to the sleeping pup as you made your way up. “Or maybe he’s hurt and tending to his wounds somewhere else.” You felt a gentle pinch in your chest at the thought of Bucky hurt and alone out there. So you forced yourself to think of something else. Something way worse. “Or maybe he’s with someone else.” You scoffed, nuzzling the soft fur of your pup, “This marriage means nothing to him anyway. But that’s alright, we don’t need him. I’ve got you. We’ve got each other. Don’t we?” 

Safe to say, you went to bed slightly annoyed that night. And in denial too because you refused to admit that you missed him. 

– 

There was a note waiting for you in your studio the next morning. 

It read: ‘No I did not spend the night with someone else. I’ll explain later. See you tonight, wife.’ 

Huh. Looks like the guards have really good ears. 

Well, whatever. It’s not like you were impatiently waiting for night to come just so you could talk to your ghost of a husband. Right? 

Except you were though. So much that you couldn’t paint a decent thing. You were easily giving up on each canvas, and leaving a trail of unfinished work the more time went on. 

Eventually you sighed and left the studio. You tried reading but that wasn’t happening either. So you did the only thing you knew would take your mind off things. You asked the ladies to show you where everything was kept in the kitchen and you got to baking. 

Which you did until it was time for bed. Your mood was off, and it was all because of a faceless man. And that somehow annoyed you even more. 

You grabbed a plate of the mini muffins you’d made earlier and made your way upstairs. Your puppy had just gotten used to the stairs so she happily followed you everywhere you went now. 

You proceeded to sit in bed, and eat your muffins angrily and forced yourself to try to sleep. 

-

You woke up sometime later. And you just knew who was in the room with you. 

Except he wasn’t in his usual spot. 

He was standing by the windows which faced your bed this time, with his back to you. The curtains were pulled, the moonlight came and there was his dark silhouette. And… you frowned as you noticed the shiny metal arm. 

“You’re home.” You said. 

Bucky turned his head to the side, “I am.” He said. 

You took a second or two to admire the side profile. With the moonlight shining all around his silhouette he looked like a fallen angel of sorts. “You didn’t come home last night.” 

“I was out working,” He said. 

“Maiming and killing?” 

“You know me so well.” 

“Is that a… metal arm?” You questioned. 

“It is.”  

“Were you hurt?” 

“I was.” 

You sighed again. “Is it always going to be bland answers and mystery with you?” 

“Get used to it.” He said in that teasing tone. 

You got out of bed as quietly as you could. “I think I liked you better without the attitude, when you sat in the corner like a ghost.” You took some steps away from the bed, approaching the giant windows. The room was rather spacious so it would take some more steps to get close to him. If you’d only– 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.” He warned, but remained in the same spot. 

You groaned. “Don’t you think this is getting tiring? I mean, I’m married to a man I’ve never seen before. In fact, no one has ever seen you. Why? What are you hiding?” You added, sounding defeated.  

Bucky lowered his head, which only accentuated how broad his shoulders really were. He sighed. “Do you know how much trouble could’ve been avoided if only Psyche trusted Eros?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I think she had her reasons. A mysterious, faceless lover who only shows up in the dark and hides in the shadows is bound to raise some doubts. Don’t you think so?” 

He chuckled. You blinked and he’d turned around to face you. But despite that, you couldn’t see his face at all. Even though he was inches away. 

He was quiet. Observing you with interest. The moonlight allowed him to see all of you, and he just… stared for a moment or two. A shiver ran down your back. An unfamiliar, but pleasant shiver. 

Without a word said, Bucky reached out and gently touched the thin strap of your silky night dress resting on your shoulder. His metal finger gliding along your skin and making you gasp at his cold touch. 

“What’s this?” He asked in his usual teasing tone. “Trying to tempt me with this excuse of a night dress, wife?” 

Fuck. Had his voice dropped lower? 

Fuck! He was so close to you. You didn’t even notice that your heart had begun racing. Your breaths had deepened. Shit. Why was this so hot?! 

“Are you? Tempted?” You asked with a steady voice, without thinking obviously. You just needed to say something so he wouldn’t notice the way you were basically panting after him like a thirsty dog. 

He chuckled. But remained quiet. 

So you said, “Thought so.” You sounded smug but you were feeling the complete opposite. 

Bucky scoffed in that arrogant way he often did. It was insane how easily you were able to pick up on his mannerism when you hadn’t even known him for that long. “Is that what you think? That I don’t want to sleep with you?” 

Oh. 

Oh this was bad. Because now your brain was making up hot, steamy scenes in your head. Scenes involving you and your faceless, mysterious husband in the dark. Entwining bodies on soft bed sheets. Fuck, you should paint that. No, what?  

“Then why haven’t you?” You found yourself asking. 

Okay then, bold as fuck it is. You’d gone past the point of no return now. Guess it was time for this conversation. 

Bucky’s fingers remained on your shoulder, tracing the thin strap there. And you couldn’t see it, but you could hear the smirk in his voice when he asked, “You want me to?” His metal hand dropped to your waist and before you could fully process it, he pulled you closer, leaned in to whisper into your ear, “You want my hands all over you, wife?” 

You could feel his slight stubble against your skin as he spoke. His lips brushing against your ear, making you gasp and tremble. Your hands found their way to his shoulders. And oh, he was pulling you even closer. Your chest pressing against his. The cool material of his suit felt amazing against your warm skin. 

“Look at you,” He cooed into your ear. “Is this what you want? Hmm?” He placed both his hands on your waist, pulling you into him. His lips moved lower, brushing against your neck as he spoke. “You like how rough my hands feel?” He moved his hands up and down your sides. “Do you know how many people I’ve hurt with these hands?” He chuckled when he heard the tiniest moan leave your mouth. “You’re so soft and warm, aren’t you worried what these hands might do to you?” 

He nuzzled your neck, hands roaming all over your sides and back and squeezing your butt. You became so pliant under his touch. Tilting your head back to allow him to kiss all over your neck, pressing your chest more and more against his like you couldn’t get enough. The layers of clothing, you wanted them gone. 

With a shaky voice you murmured, “I can’t tell if you’re trying to scare me or turn me on.” 

He laughed. And it was the best sound you’d ever heard. 

“You’re sick in that pretty head, huh?” He teased. “That beautiful brain is filled with filthy, dirty, dark thoughts, isn’t it?” His metal hand reached up and carefully wrapped around your throat. 

You gasped as he squeezed just a little bit. Those dirty thoughts he spoke about really started to fill your head. 

“Are you just all talk or–,” 

He cut you off by dragging you all the way to your bed, still holding you by the throat. 

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and he gave you a slight push, ending with you falling onto your bed on your back. You looked up at him, hovering above you, his lower body pressing into yours. 

“Do you just run that mouth?,” He asked, supporting himself with one hand while the metal one remained wrapped around your throat, his voice low and menacing but in a way that made your legs part on their own so his hips settled in between them. Your bodies fit together like the most perfect puzzle pieces. “Or do you know how to take it like a brat as well?” 

You felt the need to let him know then. “I don’t know,” You said, sounding both breathless and bratty. “I’ve never had to take it.” 

He paused for a moment. Then asked in subtle surprise, “What do you mean?” Even his grip around your throat loosened completely. 

You squirmed in slight embarrassment but that only caused your hips to grind against his and for a moment there both of you let out a strained moan. Fuck. The tension between the two of you was almost physical now. Even in the dark, even with Bucky being nothing more than just a shadow above you. 

“I, uh…” You cleared your throat, still feeling his cold fingers all over your skin, “I’ve never been with anyone before.” 

He was quiet. As if thinking. You tried your hardest but you couldn’t see any of his facial features. You knew he had a slight stubble because you’d felt it earlier. But aside from that, you knew nothing. Not even his eye colour. 

“You want us to stop?” He asked, shifting his body slightly as if he was ready to pull away if you asked him to. 

“No,” You answered way too quickly. Then you got bold again and let your hands find their way back to his shoulders. You pulled him down, closer to you just a little and said, “This is okay.” 

His fingers moved up, from your neck to your mouth. “Yeah? You want this, huh?” He mumbled, tracing your mouth with his fingers. You shivered under his touch. “You’ve been a whiny little brat lately, haven’t you, wife? Pouting and all just because I wouldn’t show myself to you.” He whispered, leaning in to just brush his lips against yours. You gasped at the sensation of his soft lips rubbing against yours. Bucky chuckled at your reaction. “Don’t think my staff doesn’t report back to me. I’ve been well aware of all the times you asked the ladies to give you details about me.” 

Now that made you squirm in embarrassment. Still you said, sounding a little annoyed at being caught. “Can you blame me?”

“Can’t you just trust me?” He argued. 

The danger and authority in his tone had your thighs clenching together to try and alleviate the torturous pain in between your legs. You were almost certain you had never been this turned on and annoyed at the same damn time before. You sighed in frustration. “This isn’t fair.” 

“No, it isn’t,” He said, pulling away and began undressing you to your pleasant surprise. “Deal with it.” 

Oh fuck. 

Fuck… You had to hold back from whimpering each time his hands rubbed against your skin. He took his time in sliding the straps of your night dress down your shoulders, dragging the silky fabric down your body, leaving you more and more naked under him. 

You shivered once he left your night dress bunched around your waist carelessly. It wasn’t just because of the slightly cold air. It was because even though you couldn’t see him, you could tell he was staring right at you. 

You spoke in a hushed voice, not daring to speak loud in fear that it might break whatever spell you were under. “So you get to see me naked all you want, but I can’t see your face?” 

He chuckled. “You want me to leave this room right now? Leave you here all wet and squirming? Or do you want me to take care of it and make you come? Huh?” 

That shut you up really quickly. 

“I thought so.” He sounded smug again when he said that. “I should spank you for the brat you are. But since it’s your first time… I’ll be nice.” 

His hands touched you everywhere, your thighs, your stomach, your sides, your chest, your neck… everywhere. He left you gasping and trembling under him. 

“Please.” You caught yourself whispering. 

Bucky leaned down, his soft mouth brushing against your cheek as he said, “Please what?” 

You squirmed, “Touch me, please.” 

He chuckled. You felt his warm breath against your skin as he kissed his way down your naked body. “Look at you,” He murmured, lips brushing against your stomach, “You’re so eager already.” 

You heard the faint chuckle which left his mouth the moment he noticed your legs spread apart for him naturally. Your face felt like it was burning but fuck, you were too turned on to even be properly embarrassed. Also, being in complete darkness helped. 

Damn. You were really getting intimate with your husband whom you hadn’t even seen yet. And somehow that fact was making you want this even more. 

But that mystery stopped being an issue the moment Bucky leaned in and kissed your wet folds, his tongue slowly circling around your throbbing clit and licking down, parting your wet folds with ease.

He poked at your entrance with his tongue and your body felt hotter than before. Back arching off the bed as you let out a soft moan at the foreign feeling. Fuck he felt good. You whimpered as you felt his tongue stroke your most sensitive parts. Your immediate reaction was to pull your hips back from the overwhelmingly good sensation his mouth was causing. And that made him grip your thighs tighter, keeping them pinned to the bed. 

“Stop moving.” He ordered and the authority in his voice made you tremble. 

You whined as you felt his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place and close to his mouth. The metal hand on your warm skin made you shiver and tremble so much that you were thankful for the darkness. 

The small amount of moonlight which came in allowed you to only see the silhouette of his broad shoulders, and his head moving slowly, sensually in between your legs. Fuck… somehow the mystery only made it hotter.

Oh you were fucked in the head for real. 

And oh, Bucky was a fucking tease. Once he noticed how easily you cried out and moaned for him, he slowed down and began kissing around your clit just to purposely mess with you. He kissed your thighs, purposely avoiding touching where he knew you needed him the most. He kissed down all the way to your core, and gently bit your skin around your inner thighs. 

“Bucky, please!” You cried out, hand reaching for his hair. When you managed to grab a fistful of his soft hair, you gave it a gentle tug. “Stop teasing me.” 

“You don’t get to give me orders, wife.” He said, sounding all proud and mighty. “I could just walk out of here and leave you like this. Naked and squirming.” 

“Please,” You begged again. You could feel your arousal trickling out of you. 

A scoff. Then he leaned in again. You whined and whimpered under him, with your legs wrapped around his head. Fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp instinctively as he flicked, and sucked, and teasing your clit as much as he could. 

“You’ve been a brat because you wanted your husband’s attention so badly, huh?” He taunted. “Is that what you wanted? Just my attention?” He chuckled. “You’re as calm as a happy kitten now, aren’t you?” 

His stubble rubbed against your sensitive skin, and the friction burned a little but it was the kind of pain you kept wanting more of. You wanted more of him. 

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” You murmured, throwing your head back, moaning as he kept teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. 

“Come for me, wife.” His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud. 

You couldn’t even hold on for much longer, and ended up coming undone all over his tongue. Heart racing, legs trembling in his grip as you came. Your moans were soft and incessant. 

Fuck… that felt amazing. 

You had barely gotten your heart to stop racing, and Bucky was already standing up and in the dark you couldn’t see very well but it did look like he was moving away from the bed. 

“You’re leaving?” You asked, unable to stop yourself from sounding a little upset at his departure. 

All he said was, “Good night, wife. See you tomorrow.” 

You scoffed after he shut the door behind him, leaving you in darkness yet again. “Ghost.” 

— 

That night ended up being the first of many. 

Your days consisted of painting, and finally finding a flow in most of your pieces. Perhaps if you’re able to make a decent collection, you could start thinking about the exhibition seriously, you thought. When you weren’t painting you were either training your rapidly growing puppy, or baking. You’d begun taking your puppy out for walks around the mansion, consequently doing some more exploring of the grounds. 

After all that, each night you’d get in bed and wait for Bucky. It became part of your routine. And each night with him was different. He’d spend his time touching you slowly until you were purring for him like a kitten. Kissing you all over your body in the dark. Making you come all over his tongue and fingers. Kissing you until you moaned and pulled him closer just to feel his weight pressing down on you. 

But he would always leave after making you come. And you two never actually fucked. Neither would he let you make him come. 

On nights when he wouldn’t make it home, you’d worry yourself to sleep. But then each morning you’d find a note from him either in your studio or the breakfast table. He would always say some cheesy shit. And he would always promise to come see you later that night. 

On nights when you two didn’t engage in anything sexual, it was still just as fulfilling. Bucky would tell you things about his work, his past, his family. You learnt that he was over a decade older than you, and teased him about being an old man until he pinned you to the bed and tickled you until you couldn’t breathe. 

You learnt that he liked to keep to himself and stay as far away from his family as possible. He liked peace and quiet, which would explain his lovely home being here away from most people. 

The more you learned about him, the easier it was to grow fond of him. But the more you grew fond of him, the greedier you got. You wanted more. More of his time, his touch, his attention, and most of all, you wanted to see him. 

The mystery, while hot as fuck, was killing you. 

—

One night, things changed. 

Bucky came into your room as usual. He’d gotten bolder lately, he wouldn’t sit in the corner like a ghost anymore, instead he would find his way to your bed and only leave that bed after making you come hard. 

Tonight started out the same way.  

You felt his hands all over you as he pulled you closer to him under the covers. You giggled as he bit and licked that one sensitive spot on your neck. Your fingers had a habit of finding themselves in his hair. It was insane how easily you’d gotten used to being with him in the dark. How easily you could find his mouth with your own. How easily you’d find your way into his arms. 

It was weirdly comforting. His warmth, his voice, his touch. 

“Tell me about your day,” He murmured, kissing your neck while his hands grabbed you and caressed you wherever he could reach. 

You squealed when you felt his metal fingers wandering dangerously close to your clit. Then said, “It went pretty well. I went out to buy some supplies, made a new friend at the store, I went to see my father but he wasn’t home. I took our dog for a walk, I painted…,” You gasped when his mouth trailed down till he took a nipple into his warm mouth, while he slid two fingers inside you gently. “Oh fuck…” You whined. 

He kissed his way up to your mouth again and said, “You sound so good when you moan for me, wife.” His lips brushed against yours. 

He was so close. And it was dark. And you wanted so desperately to see him. 

He moved his fingers expertly in and out of you. Making sure to brush against your most sensitive spots each time, turning you into a whimpering mess under him. He gave you a gentle kiss, swallowing your moans as he brought you closer to the edge. 

You whimpered and whined, then in the moment you just blurted out, “Can I please see you now?” 

Bucky stopped. He pulled away from you, making you whimper again as he got up and got out of your bed. 

In the dark it took a while for you to figure out where he was, whether he was still nearby or already making his way out the door. But he was here, standing near the bed. 

“We talked about this.” He said, sounding grave and disappointed. 

“But it’s been so long.” You argued. “I trust you.” 

He let out a loud exhale and said, “Then trust me when I say, it’s better this way.” 

You let out a sigh. “You can’t keep me in the dark forever, Bucky. Literally!” 

“Yes I can. I will.” He said arrogantly. That tone of his bothered you. “It’s better this way.” He repeated, but it sounded a lot like he was trying to convince himself instead of you. 

“Oh screw you!” You said with enough bitterness to make a grown man flinch. “If you won’t let me see you then stop coming into my bedroom. I don’t want to see you unless you agree to let go of this weird persona.” 

“Fine.” 

—

That night was the last time you heard from Bucky. 

He didn’t come home the following day. Nor the one after that. 

And no one knew where he went. 

You could tell something was wrong when you began noticing that the guards were talking in hushed voices whenever you were around. You noticed that the amount of security around the house doubled. That’s when you began to worry. 

By the third night, the entire house was filled with this almost tangible tension, worry, and fear. The house staff wouldn’t talk to you as much. The guards were always in and out of the house. The head of security advised you to not wander too far away from the house while you roam the grounds. 

You noticed the guards would follow you whenever you left the property. Be it when you left to visit your father at your old house or when you went out to buy supplies. 

Then you worried some more. But no one had answers to your questions. Nobody knew where he went. Whether he’s away for an assignment or if he’s simply choosing to be away from home. 

You tried your hardest to pretend that you didn’t care. You were still a little angry. After all, why couldn’t you see what he looked like? You’d spend so much time with him in the dark, running your hands all over him, tracing the outline of his facial features, he never had an issue with that. But why couldn’t you see him? 

You were angry, but also very much worried by the fourth day. You missed him, you realised. He had become such a habit, such a constant in your days. His sarcastic humour, his gentle hands, his comforting embrace, the way he left you notes in the morning, the way he took your art seriously. 

Fuck. You sat up in bed one night, patting ‘his’ side of the bed softly. You missed him. Badly. You felt a pinch inside your chest which you had never felt before. It hurt. You wanted him home. You admitted to yourself with a painful sigh. 

“Where are you?” You whispered, looking at the dark corner of your bedroom where he used to sit in silence like a ghost. “It’s okay if you want to stay in the dark forever.” You looked around the dark room which now without him seemed so much bigger and empty, “Just come home.” 

—

The next morning, as you half-heartedly approached the kitchen, you overheard something. And quickly realised you shouldn’t have heard it. It was the two ladies talking in hushed tones, the ones who usually served you your meals and often kept you company while you baked. 

“...cannot tell her, she’ll be heartbroken.” One of them said gravely. 

Sudden panic made your body freeze. You pressed your back against the nearest wall to keep yourself hidden while you processed those cryptic words. No, no, no. Is he hurt? Do they know something you don’t? 

The other replied, “But she deserves to know. Even if it’s not confirmed yet. I mean, do you see how she smiles when she reads his notes? Clearly she had grown to care for him. She needs to know.” 

The other argued, “I know, but I cannot imagine how hurt she will be when she hears about the rumours that her own father kidnapped her husband due to some past rivalry which was supposedly laid to rest after their wedding.” 

“They’ve been looking for him for days now. It’s been too long, he should’ve been found by now.” 

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! 

No. This cannot be happening. 

You carefully walked away from the kitchen. Thinking, processing, analysing. 

If your father did it, it must’ve been for some shitty, arrogant reason. He probably just wanted to rub it in Bucky’s family’s face that he could still eliminate his biggest threat if he wanted to. To show that he could still get rid of them by holding their most precious weapon hostage. To toy with them by making them wait in anticipation. Your father had done it before. Not with Bucky, but other people. He usually never asked for ransom but he liked having his rivals beg him for mercy. 

Shit. He’s had Bucky for days now. 

You moved without thinking twice about it. For some reason, your brain knew exactly what to do even though your heart was still bothered by a multitude of emotions. It felt like you were on autopilot. 

You rushed into Bucky’s office and grabbed a handgun from his desk drawer, checked if it was loaded. It was. You knew Bucky kept it there for safety, he had told you that one time when you two were in bed together. 

You let out a frustrated sigh, then felt movement around your ankles. You looked down at your puppy and gave her a sad smile as you bent down to pet her. “I’m gonna go find daddy, okay? I’ll be home soon.” You left her with a kiss. 

You rushed back downstairs and found a group of armed guards in the foyer near the front door. You didn’t have the time to explain it all to them, especially since you were driven by a gut feeling. Instead you asked, “Do you guys have a way of tracking my phone, or my car?” 

One of them nodded. The rest frowned in confusion. 

You tried to keep your calm as much as you could even though your heart was racing. “Okay, I’m gonna go to my father’s house. Don’t follow me yet, but I need some of you to come find me as soon as I begin driving away from there.” 

Surprisingly, they just nodded and let you go. 

The whole time you drove to your father’s house, it felt you were constantly having to force yourself to keep calm. After four days of having no idea where he was, and now as all the puzzle pieces fit together, it was hard to remain calm. You just wanted to get to him. 

And while you drove, unanswered questions tormented you. 

Was he hurt? Where was he being kept? Was he beaten up? Was he even conscious? Would this end badly? How far would your father take this? Would he hurt him? 

Before you knew it, you were entering your father’s property. The guards let you in like they always did. You had to take a minute to breathe in your car before stepping out and going inside your old home. 

Luckily your father was home. 

You walked in and stopped in the middle of the foyer as you saw him making his way down the stairs. He slowed down when he noticed the glare you sent his way. And when he stopped in the middle of the grand staircase, with you still glaring at him, the guards who were scattered around the entrance noticed. You caught the way they silently got closer and closer, slowly reaching for their guns. 

Good thing you’d brought your own. 

The guards, as well as your father, froze in place the moment you pulled out Bucky’s gun and pointed it at the man responsible for all of this shit. No one made a single sound. No guard moved to even try to disarm you. 

You looked at your hand, which was surprisingly steady as it held the gun. And there, on the side of the shiny metal, you spotted Bucky’s initials. Your heart throbbed in a painful way, but you refused to be emotional right now, even though you needed a good cry after having bottled up your feelings for the last few days. 

You glared at your father, who was still shocked, and asked in a cold tone you’d never used before, “Where’s my husband?” 

Your father frowned. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

You repeated, “Where is he?” 

Your father scoffed, “You’ll shoot your own father? Is this how I raised you?” 

“And you’ll kidnap your own son-in-law? For what? To show that you’re still the shit?” You questioned in a slightly raised voice. 

He sighed like he was disappointed, “You don’t know what–,” 

You cut him off. “We had a deal, right? That these petty attacks would stop after the wedding? That’s why I got married, isn’t it? Because we’re supposed to keep family safe?” 

He was quiet for a moment. Then began talking again, “If I could just get them to–,” 

“Enough!” You sounded just as tired of his bullshit as you were. “Whatever plan you have, just stop!” Then it came spilling out of your mouth, “You were supposed to protect me. All of us,” You said, referring to your older siblings, “Instead you married each of us off in exchange for whatever or whoever was going to benefit you more.” 

He argued, “If this works, you can come back home. Don’t you want that?” 

“No,” You said, and realised you meant it. “This was never home.” You admitted. “He treats me better than my own family ever did. He doesn’t tell me that my art is a waste of time. He doesn’t keep me imprisoned inside his home. He doesn’t choose who I should mingle with and who I shouldn’t. He doesn’t force me to join family businesses because it’ll be good for his image.” You taunted your father. “And he’ll never sell me to the highest bidder.” 

Your father made a sound like he was disgusted. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with him?” 

You remained quiet. I care for him, you wanted to say, deeply. But that would be lying, wouldn’t it? Truth was… you did fall for him. His calm voice. His gentle but playful demeanour. His dark humour. His brilliant mind and sharp tongue, always ready to argue and debate. His gentle touch… you loved him. 

“What I do and who I care for is none of your concern anymore.” You concluded, stepping forward and keeping the gun aimed at his face. “Now, where is my husband?” 

The smirk on your father’s face was maddening. “You’ll never find him,” He said. “I’ve hidden him well.” He added.  

You gave him a smirk as well. One which mirrored his. 

“Oh don’t make me do this.” You cooed. “Did you forget all those times you got drunk and confessed all the bad things you did?” You began listing, “All those times you spilled all your little secrets. About our family businesses, about your allies, the lies and betrayal. The bodies that are buried on this very property. The skeletons in your closet.” You gave him a sick, sweet smile. “Imagine if all that information just magically ends up in the ears of your rivals, dad. Imagine the carnage.” 

His smirk disappeared. “You would betray me by siding with them?” He asked in disbelief. 

You were getting tired of this. So you lowered your gun and said, “I am one of them.” 

You walked out without a single glance back at your father, but you could tell he had his jaws clenched in anger. He hated being outsmarted. But his mistake was underestimating you. 

And as for Bucky’s location, well your father gave it away when he said ‘I’ve hidden him well.’ 

There was only one place he believed you knew nothing about since at the time that he told you about it, he was drunk out of his mind as he confessed more of his crimes: the rundown warehouse which he used as a hideout/storage for weapons and arms. 

Your father had always referred to Bucky being a ‘weapon’ so it was only fitting that he would think to hide him there. Thinking no one would find him. 

But you would. 

As you drove to the warehouse, you hoped that the guards were tracking you as you had instructed them to. Because if Bucky was truly there, there was a high chance that there would be some guards, and that Bucky must be injured. And you’d need help getting him out of there. 

Driving to the warehouse, you had silent tears streaming down your face. Not just out of sadness, but also frustration. Fuck, what had your life become? 

The warehouse was a disaster, you realised as you approached it. Large, crumbling, windows boarded up with rotting wood, broken machinery scattered around the outside. It looked like it had been abandoned for decades. And it was exactly the type of structure no one would bother to look twice at. The perfect place to hide illegal things, and son-in-laws you hate. 

There weren’t as many guards as you expected. Which would mean that Bucky was either chained and locked up like an animal, or that he was injured to the point where he was too weak to fight his way out of here. 

Or both. 

You shivered as you got out of your car. The few guards who were around noticed you and one of them began walking faster towards you the more you got closer to the entrance. 

“Miss, you can’t be here. Your father explicitly said no one is allowed–,” 

You scoffed and said, “Oh, I know what he said.” You kept walking. “What will you do? Shoot me?” 

“Miss,” He tried again, “I can’t let you–,” 

You turned towards him and placed the barrel of Bucky’s gun right under the guard’s chin. “You were saying?” 

Then you heard it. A fleet of cars approaching. The guards heard it too. You heard them yelling at one another while the one in front of you remained frozen in place. You smirked at him and said, “Now go play with them.” 

You had just enough time to duck and run inside before the gunshots began. You didn’t stop. The interior of the warehouse was just as dilapidated as the outside, and by the sound of it, there were quite some guards on the roof. Their heavy footsteps as they ran to duck and try to escape the bullets raining down on them echoed inside the empty warehouse. 

It was fairly easy to spot Bucky. But fuck was it painful to see him that way. 

He was chained to the wall, shackles around his wrists and ankles. His body slumped on the ground, his breaths ragged. You could tell he was tired. Perhaps tired of fighting against the chains. You couldn’t hold back your soft sob as you ran to him. 

They had left his muzzle-like mask on him, covering the lower half of his face. The leather jacket and gloves he wore were covered in blood and dirt. A lot of blood. You knelt down in front of him and that’s when you noticed the bullet wound on his thigh. It looked fresh. 

“Bucky?” You called, reaching a hand to touch his face. He was cold to the touch, but stirred at the sound of your voice. “Bucky, come on. Wake up. Please.” You sniffled and inched closer to him, “I’m here, I’m gonna get us out of here, okay?” 

He let out a weak cough. You could barely hear it over the sound of the gunshots outside. 

“Bucky,” You tried to get the chains and shackles off of him, “Come on, wake up. We need to go home.” Your own voice cracked as you felt the silent tears streaming down your face as you were unable to get the shackles off. “Please,” You begged. 

Then as the gunshots outside faded away, you heard Bucky’s faint voice saying, “Use the gun.” 

You turned to face him. “What?” 

He spoke again, his voice raspier than usual and sounding muffled due to the mask. “Shoot at the chains.” 

Your hands trembled just a little as you reached for the gun you had brought. His gun. And you said, “Okay, don’t move.” 

You did. And only missed twice. 

Breaking the chains left the shackles still around his wrists and ankles but that could be dealt with later. You were panicking, wondering how you’d get him out of here but the guards barged in just in time. And you let out a sigh of relief when they ran straight to Bucky and carefully picked him up. 

As a couple of them managed to get Bucky in the backseat of your car, one of them let you know that there was a doctor and his assistants already waiting at home to tend to Bucky. Another one asked you what to do regarding the warehouse. 

“Burn it.” You told him. “I’ll deal with my father later, right now we need to get Bucky home.” 

On the drive home, Bucky kept trying to talk. But he was so weak he could barely get full sentences out. 

“Weren’t you mad at me?” He asked.

You sniffled and said refused to answer that. Instead you said, “Try not to talk. You’ve been shot, we don’t know how much blood you’ve lost,” You rambled. “Let’s get you to the doctor, okay?”  

“S’okay,” He mumbled, “It went through.” 

That only hurt more. “Bucky please, you need to save energy, okay? We’re almost home.” 

“They… shot me with my own gun.” He refused to keep quiet. 

At first you thought his brain was being delirious and making him ramble. Because of the pain, exhaustion, thirst, hunger. But then a weak sound left his mouth. Still muffled by the mask because no one removed it, and it sounded a lot like a very weak, faint laugh. 

“Eros got pierced by his own arrow after all.” He mumbled. 

You held back a sob. Then muttered, “I hate you so much, Bucky Barnes.” 

Another weak laugh. “No, you don’t, wife.” 

Then he passed out cold. 

— 

The next few days which followed Bucky’s rescue went by so fast and so painfully. The medical team kept close watch on him for days. Bucky was in and out of consciousness a lot. All the meds and the exhaustion kept him constantly out cold. 

The nurses and the house staff were constantly around him. But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to go into his room. Not yet. You’d linger near the door and the doctors and the staff would constantly update you about his condition, but you never went in. 

Mainly it was because of shame. At what your father had done to him. But also you were still making peace with and processing your own emotions and you couldn’t face him until you were fully ready. What was important was that he was rescued and safe in his home. 

About a week later, the medical team finally left. And promised they would do frequent check ups and told you that Bucky needed a lot of rest. 

And that night, you managed to find the courage to finally step inside Bucky’s bedroom. It was a lot like yours, just larger. The room was dark when you walked in. But the open curtains allowed some light in from the outside. 

Okay. You spoke to yourself as you approached Bucky’s bed. It’s high time you find out who you married. 

Your hands shook a little as you reached for the dim lamp on his bedside table. But you turned it on quickly before you could talk yourself out of it. 

The golden light illuminated the room partly, and there he was. A little bruised, with a cut on his lip. His handsome face made you smile and tear up at the same time. You couldn’t hold back from reaching to touch his face softly, carefully. You ran your knuckles along his cheek and whispered, “There you are, ghost.” 

He stirred. And soon, a pair of sparkling blue eyes look up at you. For a moment you panicked, wondering if he would be upset. But instead he said, “This is cheating.” 

You let out a soft laugh and asked, “How are you feeling? You’ve been asleep for days.” 

“I feel like beating your father up.” He mumbled. 

“Oh, same.” You agreed. Then added, “I’m so sorry for what he did to you.” 

Over the past few days, the guards had gathered what had truly happened the day Bucky went missing. Turns out, he did leave for an assignment but your father and his men had been keeping a close eye on him for days, and since the wedding was supposed to have ended all rivalry, Bucky had his guard down as he entered your father’s territory. And your father had the upper hand for once and took advantage of it. Bucky was cornered, outnumbered and taken. He was kept in that warehouse up until you found him. 

“Don’t be,” Bucky whispered, reaching for your hand on your lap. He gave your hand a soft squeeze and said, “You saved me.” 

You couldn’t look away from Bucky. It felt so intimate to finally be able to see his face. Then rather sheepishly, you asked, “Can I sleep here? I’ll be careful.” He was still injured and in pain, but you just wanted to be close to him. You needed to. 

He smirked, “Come on.” You walked to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers, keeping some distance between you and him. He turned to look at you and said, “Want me to leave the light on?” 

You nodded. And he did. 

— 

A lot changed after that. 

Bucky was healing from his injury and was starting to walk again. Which meant that he was home a lot. He did ‘work’ but it mainly consisted of him ordering people around on the phone. 

Him being at home meant that he followed you around as much as he physically could. He would spend time in your studio, sometimes he’d stay for hours and watch you finish your pieces. He also spent a lot more time with your dog, taking her on short walks and teaching her new tricks. 

He’d stay with you in the kitchen while you baked. He’d go with you whenever you went shopping for supplies. Bucky became your shadow. And consequently, spending this much together made you feel closer than ever to him. 

He became your best friend. 

He also became a lot more… bold. 

—

One night Bucky found you in his bathroom. After that night when you first slept in his bed, you hadn’t gone back to your bedroom. So now, most of your things slowly found their way into his space. Like your night time skin care products. 

Bucky crept up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. 

You met his eyes through the mirror and gave him a smile. “Your limp is nearly gone.” You announced, noticing the way he walked was so much better now. 

He gave you a look which meant nothing but mischief, “And you know what that means?” 

You could already tell where this was going. You immediately turned him down. “Bucky, we cannot. You’re still injured.” 

“But it’s been weeks.” He said it like it was the ultimate torture. “Don’t you miss those nights we spent together? Hmm?” He whispered, leaning in to kiss your neck. He knew it was one of your weaknesses. “Remember how good it feels when I make you come?” 

You sighed, letting him kiss you and hold you for a moment. “Buck… you’re still healing.” 

“Come on, baby,” He cooed, nuzzling your neck, “I’ll make it so good. I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts.” 

You almost gave in the moment he playfully bit your neck, his hands finding the belt of your robe and shamelessly undoing it before sliding in to touch your warm skin. “But,” You tried to find something even though all you wanted was to drag him to bed, “Your stitches…” Your words ended in a soft moan as his metal fingers found their way in between your legs, circling around your clit. 

Bucky growled. Growled. Then said, “Fine, you get to be on top then.” 

You froze, and let out a nervous chuckle. “But I…,” You opened your eyes and met his through the mirror. “I–,” 

“Shh, it’s okay.” He reassured you, remembering the time you told him you’d never done anything with anyone before. “I know.” He gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I’ll teach you.” 

And he did. Patiently. 

He took his time in undressing both of you and held your hand in his as he laid down and pulled you on top of him. 

“I’m scared I’ll hurt you.” You murmured. 

He gave you a reassuring smile. “You won’t, baby. Now come on.” 

He watched as you carefully straddled him, settling comfortably around his waist. One hand holding his metal one tightly while the other remained splayed over his chest. 

Bucky looked up at you with nothing but adoration and lust as he tugged on your hand, pulling you in for a kiss. You leaned down gently and pressed your mouth to his. His warm hand immediately rubbed up and down your side lovingly. He pulled away just a little and whispered against your mouth, “We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with, okay?” 

You nodded, already breathless. 

“Tell me, baby. What do you want?” 

You told him the one thing you desperately wanted. “I want to touch you.” 

Bucky smirked and supported his upper body up on his elbows, with you still straddling his waist, your core pressing down on his crotch. “Go on then, touch me.” He murmured. 

He watched you intently as you reached out and touched his face first. Bucky’s heart was racing, you could tell by the way he breathed, as your finger slowly trailed down his face, along his neck and down till his abs, so slowly that you could feel his muscles tensing underneath your touch. 

You gave him a teasing smile when you noticed the effect you have on him, and how he couldn’t help but stare at your naked body. 

“Don’t tease me,” He mumbled. 

You chuckled and leaned in to give him a brief kiss before hesitantly wrapping your hand around his cock. Part of the reason why you kissed him while doing it was because you were worried about your lack of experience, so you did it to distract him. 

But he caught it. And wrapped his own hand around yours, making you grip him tighter. You pulled away from the kiss and looked into his pretty eyes. Bucky was breathing heavily. You let his hand guide you as you gave him an experimental stroke, a gentle up and down movement. 

He felt thick and hard, and big. You looked down for a quick minute as you let him continue guiding your hand, lazily stroking his cock, up and down. Your thumb rubbed his tip slowly, making him groan as you looked back up at him and kissed your way down his neck, around the base of his throat, making him gasp in pleasure. 

“See?” He whispered, “You’re learning already.” He said as he slowly let go of your hand and let you touch him on your own. 

You continued exploring this new feeling. He was completely fine with just being there and letting you take your time. And you did take your time, touching him everywhere you could, stroking him as slowly or as quickly as you wanted to. Until he was so close to the edge, eyes rolled to the back of his head, lips parted and occasional moans escaping his open mouth as  pre cum started dripping down his cock. 

Oh he was a sight to behold. But you were getting impatient, and you wanted him in you as soon as possible. So you stopped, earning a groan from him. 

“I want you,” You said. 

Bucky looked like he was barely able to hold back either. “Come on,” He held your hand again, pulled you in for a quick kiss as you straddled him properly. His hand reached down and aligned the tip of his cock to your hole, teasing you with it by sliding it up and down your slit a few times until you were whimpering. “Now sit on it baby come on,” He encouraged you as you began sinking down on him, gasping as his cock stretched you out. “You can do it.” He murmured, breathless as he watched his cock disappear inside you more and more. “That's it. All the way down, come on baby.” 

You were a moaning mess by the time you sunk all the way down, impaling yourself down on his cock. Fuck. You had never felt so full before. So fucking full. 

“You okay, baby?” He asked, holding you by your hips, moving you back and forth just a little bit to create some friction. 

You nodded, moaning at the slight movement. 

“Want me to help you move?” He asked, lips parted and he had that wild look in his eyes.

Fuck, he was beautiful. 

“Yes, please,” You whined, placing your hands on his chest to brace yourself for what was coming. 

He wasted no time. Bucky grabbed you by the hips and helped you move up and down his cock. Your wet warmth wrapped all around him, making him swear under his breath and groan at how good you felt. 

You couldn’t look away from his ocean blue eyes while you rocked your hips against his. You moved against him perfectly, your walls gripping him tightly and feeling him twitch inside you. 

“Look at you.” He cooed. “Look how well you're taking it.” 

You couldn’t help but lean in to kiss his open mouth. He was so perfect. He was everything you had ever dreamt of, you realised. 

His metal fingers moved to touch your clit while you rode his cock, teasing you and bringing you closer to that edge. It wouldn’t take much. You were so overwhelmed already. 

“Bucky…” You whined, dragging your hands down and pressing both your palms against his toned abdomen, carefully avoiding touching him around his thigh area, where he was shot. 

Bucky watched you, your breasts bouncing gently, lips parted, softly gasping as you got so, so close to the edge. 

And he knew. So he quickened his pace, still moving you up and down his cock while he rubbed your throbbing clit. 

“Baby, I’m gonna need you to come for me, okay?” His voice was low, barely even a whisper. His desperation was quite clear. He began to thrust his hips up even harder, matching your movements.

The air around you got hotter, and that look in his eyes made you want to live in this moment forever. Bucky was the most beautiful mess you’d ever seen. A sweaty, moaning mess under you, messy hair, swollen lips, and a throbbing cock. 

You were sure you looked like a mess too as you felt your walls clench around him, gripping him and milking him perfectly. 

“Come for me,” He whispered, “Come on, baby.” 

You came without a warning, crying out loud and impaling yourself down on him one last time as you did. Bucky thrust up into you one last time and came undone as well, both of you breathing hard and fast. 

You carefully got up from his lap and laid down beside him, body limp and slightly sore in between your legs. 

You were still catching your breath as you asked, “Did I hurt you?” You sounded just as worried as you were. 

Bucky chuckled. “I should be the one asking you that.” 

You smiled and snuggled into his side, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer. 

“I’m fine, baby.” He said and kissed your forehead. 

You both laid there in silence for a while. 

Cuddling and relishing each other’s warmth, caressing each other’s skin. 

You felt his fingers drawing random shapes on your back as you laid your head on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeats against your cheek. You felt the need to ask him, “Why were you so against showing yourself to me?” 

He gave you a soft chuckle. “You just can’t let that go, huh?” 

“Nope.” 

He sighed, pulling you closer. “I was… afraid.” 

You frowned. “Afraid of what?” You pulled away and looked up at him. “Why did you hide this pretty face from me?” You gave him a quick kiss on his chest as you waited for his answer. 

He sighed again. “Everywhere I go, I… whenever people see me up close, it’s already too late. They don’t see a human anymore, they see death staring back at them.” He paused. You remained quiet. He continued. “I see it, you know? In their eyes. When they look at me and plead, or beg, or curse me.” A humourless laugh, then, “After some years of that, I began seeing it in the mirror as well. I saw the same thing they see. After years of brutality, and killing, and spilling blood,” A soft chuckle, “Years of being an evil Eros as you call it, I grew to hate my face.” 

You felt tears forming at your waterline but you couldn’t look away from him. Not when he was being so brave and vulnerable. 

He continued. “And then before our wedding, I looked you up.” He confessed, a little embarrassed. “And you were so beautiful.” He looked you right in the eyes and repeated, “You are so beautiful. I guess, I didn’t want you to look at me and see death, and ugly and all the other dark stuff. I didn’t want to see that look in your eyes, the same one I see in everyone. That look of fear and disgust.” He finally admitted, “So I thought, I’d just hide and be a ghost.” 

“My ghost.” You corrected him, reaching out to cup his chin in your palm. “And I’m gonna need you to never stop haunting me.” You said, leaning in to leave a soft kiss on his lips. “I want you to always be in the shadows. Be with me, even in the dark.” You gave him a smile. “I look at you now and you know what I see? I see a man who treated me with respect. A man who wouldn’t touch me unless I asked for it. A man who gave me so much space for my creativity.” A faint smile, then you added, “You made me fall in love with art all over again, and now everything I paint, I paint with you in my mind.” 

He gave you a smile which both broke and mended your heart. 

“Oh Buck,” You cupped his gorgeous face with both hands and said, “You’re not death, or scary, or any other dark shit. You’re mine, and I love you.” 

He pulled you in for a kiss so quickly you barely processed it. “And I love you.” 

You giggled into the kiss and only pulled away when you were breathless. You kissed your way down his chin and nuzzled his neck, sighing in delight. 

Bucky said, “I think I should retire.” 

“Hmm,” You asked, “And what would you do in retirement?” 

“Watch you paint, raise our dog, adopt some more animals, attend your art exhibitions, and eventually make some babies with you.” He listed it all so easily. 

“Sounds like a plan.” You agreed.

[buckyalpine]

In some universe I like to think Bucky likes to fuck. Hard. He holds back when he has his hands all over your body and he's trying desperately to shut out the monster in his brain screaming to ravage you because he. Wants. To. Fuck.

There are days where he wants that tender loving and he wants to be soft and sweet but on others?

The release feels to good and in that moment he's in full control, chasing that pleasure, hyper focused on the way his cockhead is dripping and swollen, more sensitive than ever. Its throbbing and his veins are pumping all the blood to his rock hard cock.

At first he does a good job of hiding it.

But then the mask begins to fall.

Primal urges want to take over but how can he ruin his sweet little bunny whose laying under him, moaning and looking at him with doe eyes.

How can he-

"Buck?"

Bucky's hips stutter at the sound of your soft voice laced with concern, your hand coming to cup his cheek.

"You okay?" You can tell he's not all there, his movements hesitant, body too stiff. You're plaint under him but his muscles are tight, jaw clenched. "What's wrong Jamie"

Jamie. The name you had for him alone made him want to fuck you till all you could do was scream his-

"We can stop if-

"No-" Bucky cuts you off before you could continue, petting your head reassuringly, "Everything's fine doll, promise" He pecks a kiss to your nose making you blink and it some how makes him harder. You're so trusting, spreading out naked on his bed, completely unsuspecting of all the dirty things he really wanted to do to you. You were checking in on him to see if he's okay, not having a clue he wanted to rail you so hard, you'd forget how to speak. Pound you till you were begging for him to stop because there was too much cum for your tiny cunt to handle and his heavy balls would still be aching for release.

"You can tell me" You whisper, wiggling from under him to wrap your soft thighs around his waist, stroking his scruffy cheek. "Please?"

Bucky doesn't think he can hide his needs for much longer. Not when your scent is all over him now; on his pillow, the sheets, its soaked onto his skin with how closely your naked bodies are pressing against each other. How can he be expected to have any self-control when you're looking up at him like that like a sweet little bunny caught in the wolfs den, cuddling into her predators chest.

"You really want to know?" His voice was husky, letting his nose trail along the column of your neck, breathing in your sweet smell, letting his tongue dart out to taste your sweat slicked skin. The action makes you gasp, clenching around him with a whimper, your eyes growing wide when a growl emits from deep in his chest, "Are you sur you really want to know?"

"Y-yes" You nod, your breath hitching in your throat at the dark smirk that appears on his face as his hand snakes up to softly clasp around your throat.

"I want to ruin you bunny" Bucky's nose nudges against your affectionately before leaning down to nip your pouty bottom lip.

"R-ruin?" You whisper, a wave of slick soaking his cock further which doesn't go unnoticed by him. He experimentally draws his hips back and snaps them forward, hitting your cervix, the salacious moan you let out driving him feral.

"I want to fuck. Promise I'll make love to you after but I want to fuck you pretty girl" He squeezes your throat a little tighter, moving to graze his teeth along your jaw. "Will you let me? Fuck this pretty little pussy?"

The breathy yes you let out is all he needs.

And fuck you he does.

-

"J-JAMIEE"

"That's it-scream-scream for me!" He roars, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips and he pulls you back to meet his thrusts, his balls slapping your clit each time. He has you on your hands and knees though your arms gave way, your face pressed against the mattress. He brings his leg up to get a deeper angle and the feeling causes white spots to blur you vision.

"M-more-Wan' more" You weakly beg, tears streaming down your face in pleasure, your entire body being held up by his grip as he takes you from behind.

"Greedy slut, begging for more as if she isn't already full of cock and cum" Bucky gritted out, having already emptied himself in your once, your combined slick making it easier for him to pound you. "Just a hole for me to fuck, you're just here to get me off aren't you baby, just a tight little pussy for me to stuff my dick into"

"Ye-ah" You hiccup, overstimulated from the orgasms he's pulled from your body left, right and center. "So-so-good"

"S'good huh, gotta keep you well fucked for my fat cock bunny" You have no idea where he got such a filthy mouth from, another orgasm building in your belly from his words alone, "Can feel you getting tight again, lookit you cumming all over me baby, messy girl, soaking me"

You can't respond aside from wailing with pleasure, trickles of squirt wetting his thighs, the sight making his balls pull towards his body.

"That's it, good girl, fuck gonna cum bunny, gonna give you my cum and keep fucking it back into you, keep you nice and full of me" He rails you faster, the serum in his veins pumping, sweat dripping down his body. He feels impossibly hot, head thrown back as immense pleasure shoots down his spine, his pace growing sloppy. There's not a single thought in his brain other than busting load after load in your sopping cunt till his cock his soft. He doesn't care that it almost hurts, overstimulated himself, panting and rutting into you, he's so far gone, his deep moans slipping into a whimper as his cock starks to leak, he's so close-

"OH-FUCKK" Hot ropes of his spend shoot from his tip as he lets his body fall on top of you, humping and rutting himself till he's all empty, "y'feel to good, can't even stop, holy shit" He moans into your neck, suckling at your pulse point while you writhe under him feeling his cum seep out of you. His movements slow till there's nothing left, his sensitive length still tucked between your folds, pink and soft and wet with your cream. He carefully moves you so you're resting on the pillows, his cool metal hand brushing your forehead.

"Come back to me bunny" Bucky coos, chuckling at your dazed state, your eyes still unfocused, panting and blindly reaching for him, "M'right here babygirl, c'mhere, I got you" He cradles your soft body close to his, kissing your hairline. "Did so good for me princess, so so proud of you"

You let out a sleepy yawn, curling up on his chest like a content kitten, closing your eyes while nuzzling into him. You've never looked so peaceful and happy and Bucky can tell just by your happy little sigh you want more of what he gave you.

[jobean12-blog]

His to Keep

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Mob!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 3,626

Summary: You've been working for Bucky for almost a year and although you know there's so much more to him than just owning the club, you can't help but be drawn to him as he's drawn to you.

Author's Note: Just more mob!Bucky because I love him so! Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: light mentions of v-i-olen-c-e and angst, but mostly sweetness and softness, tension and flirting, and d-o-m and obse-ssi-ve Bucky.

The piercing shot rings out, and before the echoing sound even dies, Bucky’s running. Your high-pitched scream pierces the air and he silently prays for your safety, his long legs moving so fast time seems suspended.

When he reaches the hallway, there’s a small group of employees gathered by the doorway, their expression filled with shock and horror.

They part without question as he approaches, rushing into the room and ignoring the violence that so blatantly fills it. His blue eyes search for you and finally his heart starts beating again when he sees you unharmed.

You’re crouched in the corner, eyes wide with terror as you take in the slumped over man in the chair, his tailored and expensive suit now stained red.  

Bucky’s men immediately follow his orders to handle the situation but his attention never leaves you.

With slow steps he approaches you, holding his hands out and speaking your name softly. When your eyes lock with his the first tear slides down your cheek and he nearly crumbles to his knees, his heart shattering.

He gathers you into his arms with such a gentle grace, as if you’ll break and ushers you toward his office. With a nudge of his toe he opens the door and sets you down in his large leather chair. Carefully he takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over you, tucking it above your shoulders.

His eyes are laser focused on you as he fills a crystal glass with whiskey and forces it into your shaky hand.

“Drink this.”

You glance at it unseeingly, lost in your head, replaying what you just witnessed over and over.

He lifts the glass with a gentle touch and when it reaches your lips you drink reflexively. He waits until you finish all of it.

Taking a silk handkerchief out of his breast pocket, he kneels down in front of you, his hands moving with slow trepidation, but still you try to intercept it.

“Let me,” he orders. “Please doll.”

The second set of words come out softer and your hands fall to your lap.

He cleans your face of tears, his touch delicate and reverent and you can feel his warm breath fan your cheek as his thumb chases a stray tear that slips toward your mouth.

“Doll,” he whispers roughly, emotion clogging his voice.

Your wet lashes lift and you meet his eyes, your breath catching at what you see. You’ve never seen him look so vulnerable. His usual façade of unrivaled power and unrelenting dominance gone, replaced by a haunting look of dread.

“James?”

At the sound of his name on your lips his jaw clenches, his controlled restraint slowly slipping away with his mask and every moment he spends so close to you. He needs you to feel you. Your warm and soft skin, your pulsing heartbeat, your lips, every curve…

But he would never take advantage of you, especially after what just happened.

“Let me take you home.”

You nod and easily fall into his embrace, resting your head against his chest as he escorts you toward the exit.

When your soft sheet hits your shoulder you sigh, snuggling closer to your pillow as Bucky tucks you in. You had argued lightly when he told you to shower but now that you’re warm and clean you feel marginally better.

He pauses at the door as you fall asleep, knowing he can’t leave you here alone, instead sinking into your make up chair in the corner of the room, watching vigilantly as you succumb to slumber.

A week later you’re determined to leave your house, wanting to get back to work, even if it means facing the demons of that night. And you want to see him again. You’ve missed him, even though you know he’s never very far away.

He watches from his hidden vantage point as you close your car door and start the engine. He doesn’t need the GPS tracker he had installed on your car to tell him where you’re headed, but he turns it on anyway.

His own car starts, black and sleek in a nondescript way. He easily catches up to you, maintaining a safe distance behind you so you don’t notice him.

He phones Steve who’s working the back door of the club. “She’ll be arriving soon. Escort her in.”

Steve makes a small sound of acknowledgement and hangs up, promptly moving outside to wait for you.

Once Bucky is satisfied Steve has you covered he makes a sharp turn off the main road and takes the back streets toward his club. He needs to be there before you. Ready and waiting.

Before you even turn your car off, Steve is at the door, opening it and guarding you with his body.

In his office, Bucky waits, checking the crowd through the one-way glass that overlooks the floor. Security has been upgraded, covering every inch of his club to ensure nothing like what happened last week ever happens again.

Everything in the club looks to be running smoothly…not that he would have it any other way. All his endeavors are done with the utmost care and cunning precision. He wouldn’t be able to run this club any other way let alone the whole damn city.

He scans the floor until his eyes land on you and as if you can feel his gaze, your eyes glance up to the window where you know he’s standing.

The connection that’s been growing between you two for the past year has only been solidified since the unfortunate event that took place last week. He knew in that moment that he would do anything for you. Die to protect you.

Since the instant you walked into his club to apply for the job as manager he knew you were special. And having you work for him has been the sweetest torture. Day after day he watches you excel at your job, handle everything thrown your way with ease and professionalism, even the scummy clientele that try to lay hands on you.

No one touches what belongs to him and only the ones that don’t know who he is try. But they soon find out how big of a mistake they’ve made.

Steve alerts Bucky that you’re on your way up to his office.

The knock on his office door makes his heart skip a beat and even though he’s dressed impeccably he smooths his hand down his chest, adjusting his tie in the process.

“Come in.”

You crack the door open and peek in.

“Hi James. Steve said I could come up?”

At your questioning tone, Bucky smiles.

“You never have to ask to see me doll. You’re welcome to anytime.”

You smile softly and walk in, shutting the door behind you. With a slow saunter you move toward his desk and perch yourself on the edge near his chair.

He finds it hard to concentrate the moment you’re close. Even though you try to keep a cool demeanor, your body is inviting in its posture and your eyes devour every inch of him.

“Thank you for seeing me James,” you start. “I wanted to…”

Before you can finish he leans closer, a gentle interruption with his consuming presence.  “First of all, call me Bucky. I’m only James to everyone else. And as I said before, I would love to see you anytime you want doll.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning toward him as if you’re pulled by some invisible string. “That’s actually why I’m here. I wanted to thank you.”

“For?” he asks, his eyebrows raised as a small smile pulls at his lips.

Your eyes drop to his mouth before your lips part to speak again.

“Taking such good care of me last week and rescuing me.”

“I hardly rescued you doll. I’ll never forgive myself for putting you in that situation and the fact that I wasn’t there to protect you will haunt me forever. I never wanted you to see this side of my…business.”

You pull your gaze away from his mouth and study his face. He’s beautiful. His large blue eyes framed by dark and long lashes and his perfectly shaped jaw surrounding a mouth with lips you dream about tasting.

“It’s ok…”

“No.” he says, his tone harsh.

His face crumples when he sees your eyes widen at his gruffness.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly recovers. “That’s not meant to be toward you…if anything had happened to you…”

You tentatively reach up to cup his cheek, your thumb softly brushing over the dark stubble that lines it.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I know you would never hurt me.”

His eyes are locked on yours, the tension between you palpable. You unconsciously trace your lips with your tongue, drawing his attention. He moves closer, closing the distance and resting his elbows on his spread thighs.

“Anything you want from me. Anything at all. You need but to ask and it’s yours.”

“Jame…Bucky, thank you.”

He visibly preens when you say ‘Bucky,’ and it makes you smile, triumph alight in your eyes.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do…?” you ask, looking at him from under your lashes.

“Nothing. You’re perfect. However, I’d like to ask you something.”

His words peek your interest and you inch closer, knowing after today there’s no turning back from this. From him.

“Dinner. I want you to have dinner with me doll.”

“That wasn’t a question,” you say teasingly, even as you drag your teeth over your bottom lip. “More of an order.”

“Mm, you’re right,” he winks. “Either way, I think your answer is going to be yes.”

“Like a date?” you question, your grin widening.

“Yes. A date.”

“What will everyone else say when they find out you’re dating your employee?”

Your question has his features hardening ever so slightly, but not at you.

“No one will say a word about it. I can assure you of that.”

You audibly swallow as you take him in, focusing on the way you feel about him, not what he’s capable of.

“I’d love to have dinner with you Bucky.”

He visibly relaxes and a genuine smile graces his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes in such an endearing way you nearly swoon off the desk.

“Good. Then let’s eat.”

You giggle. “Now? I thought you meant you were going to pick me up, you know, I’d get all dressed and then you take me out.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to give you time to reconsider.”

Reluctantly, but with a smirk, he pushes on his heels and rolls his chair away from you, grabbing his cell. He orders a spread of food from one of his restaurants, then sits back down.

“Sit,” he says, motioning to the chair across from him.

When you do he slides closer, framing you with his spread legs and caging you in with his thighs.

“So now that this is dinner, tell me something about yourself that I don’t already know.”

“Hmm,” you muse, tapping your chin.

You fall into easy and comfortable conversation, sharing more about your past. Bucky listens intently, hanging on to every word and prodding gently with well thought out questions.

A knock at the door surprises you both and you can see Bucky’s body tense. He was so immersed in you he lost sight of any possible dangers, forgetting his surroundings. He mentally berates himself, tucking that away and vowing to be more mindful, if only to keep you safe.

Thankfully, it’s only the dinner delivery.

He takes the food and moves to the casual seating area of his office, placing the food down on the coffee table. You follow him and sit on the floor.

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes wandering over your form before he follows suit with a light shrug.

“Have you ever sat on the floor to eat dinner?” you ask playfully.

“Not that I recall,” he answers, serving you food.

You both laugh and dig into the delicious dinner.

After your impromptu dinner date you and Bucky continue to dance around each other at work.  The connection is strong, the pull between you taut with intense heat and longing. You can always feel his presence, his eyes on you, but it’s not uncomfortable at all, in fact, it makes you feel safe.

Later that week as you’re leaving your yoga class you feel someone following you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end but when you hear the instructor’s familiar voice you relax slightly and turn to say hello.

“Hi Matt.”

He greets you warmly and falls into step next to you as you walk toward your cars. The conversation is light at first but then he starts to complain about his girlfriend and how their relationship is failing. You begin to feel uncomfortable and as if sensing it, Matt drops his head.

“I’m sorry. Enough of my drama. I just need to move on I think.”

You take that as your cue to leave and start to say your goodbye but he keeps talking, chasing after you as you move toward your car.

“Hey, how is work going?”

“Uh..good, really good, thanks.”

Matt continues firing questions at you and your eyes dart around the darkened parking lot, quietly searching for Steve or one of Bucky’s other men.

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” Matt says, the words pulling your from your spiraling thoughts.

You step back to gain space and before you can answer, there’s a loud clanging noise as the door of the gym next door slams shut.

A big and broad silhouette comes into view and both you and Matt automatically look over.

Steve’s large frame moves closer and you sigh in relief.

“Hey Steve,” you chime, taking a step toward him.

Steve respectfully keeps his distance while also always keeping you protected.

“Ready to go?” Steve asks as he glares at Matt.

“Yes,” you answer, waving at Matt.

Matt blinks several times, clearly confused at Steve’s arrival but grudgingly says his goodbye and shuffles off to his car.

“I was looking for you Steve,” you say once Matt is out of ear shot.

“I’m sorry it took me longer than usual. I was on a call,” he apologies.

“It’s ok,” you say with a soft pat to his shoulder. “Just glad you’re here.”

“I always am.”

When you look at him with curious eyes his own go wide. “Well…not always of course. Bucky would have my head, but I just meant…”

You throw your head back with laughter. “I know Steve. The first few months I thought I was just crazy but when I realized it was just you trailing me and keeping me safe I felt better.”

Steve gives you a more relaxed smile and opens your car door.

“Um Steve,” you say softly as you sit. “Do you think maybe…we could keep this just between us? Matt’s not really a bad guy. I think he’s just having a rough time. I’m sure everything would have been just fine.”

Steve’s mouth turns down in a frown. “You know I can’t do that.”

With a sigh you reply, “I knew you were going to say that.”

Steve’s lips lift into a wry smile. “When it comes to his girl he wants to know everything.”

“Is that so?” you ask, narrowing your eyes. “Should I start keeping a diary so I can report in every second of every day.”

“Well, you probably don’t need to go that far, but…”

Your lips purse but when you see his expression morph into one of sheepishness for the second time that night you decide to let it go and take it up with Bucky himself.

Back home, Steve walks you to your door.

“Do you want to come in? Need a snack or drink?” you ask.

He doesn’t take a single step closer and shakes his head once.

“He’s on his way now.”

“Bucky’s on his way?” you squeak. “Shit. I need to change and tidy up!”

At your use of ‘Bucky’ Steve genuinely grins. The action catches you off guard but you realize that Bucky wasn’t lying when he said no one calls him that but you. With another flurry of thanks and goodnights you bid farewell to Steve, even though you know he’ll just be sitting outside in his SUV until Bucky arrives.

You prepare for your shower, determined to keep your head once he gets there and get some definitive answers from him.

At his knock, you open the door with a tentative smile.

“Doll face,” he greets, his voice deep and intense.

“Bucky,” you echo. “Would you like to come in.”

“Please,” he answers and brushes past you.

Just the delicate touch of his hand as he walks by sends goosebumps skittering across your skin.

“I’m sure you already know about what Steve did tonight,” you say as you walk into your living room.

“Of course,” he answers.

You look over your shoulder and narrow your eyes.

“Want something to drink?”

“Do you have whiskey?” he asks.

“No whiskey, just red or white wine and water. Take it or leave it.”

At your sassy tone his eyebrows raise every so slightly.

“Water is fine, thank you. And want to tell me what that sassiness is about.”

After you get two glasses of water you sit on the couch across from him, leveling him with your best glare.

“How long have you had Steve following me?” you ask him.

“You’re very observant,” he states.

“That’s not an answer,” you continue with sass. “And I’ve been paying attention. You know I have. But mostly to you.”

Your confession satisfies him. You can see it in the way he lifts his chin and his eyes glitter.

“I want you to fill me in Bucky.”

“On?” he asks as his arm falls over the back of the couch and his fingers ghost over your shoulder, mostly bare in your thin tank top.

“Bucky.”

You mean it to come out more demanding, but it’s breathy and your body shivers at his touch.

“Are you sure? You were pretty freaked out by what you learned last time you got a glimpse behind my curtain. And rightfully so.”

“Tell me. I trust you and I want to give us a chance.”

He takes a deep breath and shares as much as he can without putting you in any more danger.

“Why do all of this though? Do you have men following everyone that works for you? Why did Steve call me your girl?”

“Two of these questions have the same answer. From the moment I saw you I wanted you to be mine and after the incident earlier this month and I almost lost you, it became an overwhelming feeling.”

His fingers press into your skin as he glides them down your arm.

“And no. I don’t have men on anyone else that works for me. I keep them safe of course. But just you. Always you.”

His hand leaves your arm and he strokes his thumb along your jaw. You lean into his touch and sigh out his name.

“I’ve been patient,” he murmurs. “Fuck doll, I’ve been so patient.”

He presses the pad of his finger to your lips, tracing their softness.

“But with every breath I take, I think of you. Every beat of my heart, I want you.”

The moment stretches in sweet torture before you place a hand on his cheek.

“I want you t…”

Before the words are fully out of your mouth he’s on you, dragging you into his lap and grinding his hips up as he grabs the back of your neck and steals your breath.

You press closer, needing to feel every inch of him. Your arms wrap around his neck and you lightly scratch your nails over his scalp before your hands fall to his chest and you start to tug at his tie.

Your lips leave his and you trail kisses along his jaw, stopping just below his ear before tracing the muscular column of his neck.

He hisses out a curse and tightens his grip. You smile into his skin and loosen his tie. You’ve barely gotten it undone when his large hand lands on your ass cheek. The sting makes you moan and rock your hips but in a flash your eyes are on his, your chin caught between his thumb and forefinger.

You take in his appearance as he stares at you. His usually pristine shirt now wrinkled, the buttons at the top hanging open and his loose tie dangling messily. His normally untouched hair is tousled, wild from your fingers and his control is clearly wavering with every heaving breath he takes.

You don’t waste another second and this time you kiss him, pressing your softness against every hard plane of his body, maximizing every bit of contact as you try to pin him to the back of the couch. You nibble into his bottom lip and then swallow the sound of his satisfied growl.

“Doll,” he starts, and you hear the questioning tone of his voice.

“Fuck me, Bucky. Fill me and make me yours.”

For a split second you see surprise flash across his features but he instantly recovers with a smirk.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for his, how many times I’ve dreamed of you saying those words to me,” he murmurs, his body rigid with his restraint. “And remember, you asked for this. I’m going to give you everything.”  

His words are a dark promise, one you hold onto with every fiber of your being.

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @littleseasiren @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife

[fineprintedsunsets]

Кролик; Bunny

ೃ⁀➷ It's the dreaded time of month and all you want to do is curl up in bed. Your soldat has other plans. ೃ⁀➷ p in v sex. dirty talk. soldat!bucky. mentions of blood. period sex. (soldat not giving a fuck). breeding kink. mentions of pads/pain. fingering. possible typos. ೃ⁀➷ 1.2k

i hate my period so much, writing about this brute helps me cope🧸

seb masterlist

Oh no. No. No. Not today. Not now.

Fuck, You hate mother nature.

The sheets of your bed are stained a red hue. Little spots and specks paint the white fabric and your thighs are sticky with blood.

Your fucking period. If you had enough energy you could just slam a fist into the wall, broken bones be damned.

You whimpered and whined all the way to the shower, stomach aching, legs weak. You made sure to tear off the sheets and add them to the heaping pile of laundry in your room.

As soon as you stripped yourself of your clothes and felt the steaming water hit your skin, all was forgiven. The sound of water hitting the cheap chipped tile was so relaxing you would give everything you had to be in this state forever.

Unfortunately, a girl has a water bill.

ღ

You changed your clothes, put on low-cut shorts, and bought a shit ton of pads. It was only the first day and your flow was already heavy.

The cramps were bearable, but you could tell they were going to get a whole lot worse. Which led to your current state, in bed, lights turned off, head against a cold pillow, and blinds drawn.

An unbreakable fortress of cold pillows and snakes you managed to hoard in anticipation for this day's arrival.

You couldn’t turn on the tv, the light was harsh and irritating. So you just sat in darkness, eating Resses and groaning in pain.

Your only thought was “when would he arrive"?

ღ

“Кролик” (Bunny) a heavy voice woke you from your sleep. A familiar musk of gunpowder and him filled your head.

“You're bleeding.” He says from the shadows. You find your fingers gripping your blankets in both anticipation and fear. Your breath hitches.

He smells it, smells you.

“You need to be bred.”

Fuck.

The Winter Soldier, soldat, in his six-foot-tall frame, rounds the side of your bed. The harsh fabric of his suit, made to withstand all kinds of obstacles was now in front of your vision.

The soldat didn’t bother to take his combat boots off before sliding into bed with you. He kneeled on the mattress, denting it.

You waited in anticipation, legs slightly parted, breath coming in slow gasps as heat filled your entire body.

“Remove your shorts. Or is it too painful?” In a way, he’s mocking you, a way of saying you will always need his help. If you weren’t drunk off him right now, you’d recoil. Sober you would not have heat pooling in her core right now.

“Hurts- Soldat. Please take them off.” You wiggled your hips to emphasize. The soldats mask covers his face, muffling the groan he made when sliding the fabric off your legs.

Your body jolted when cold metal fingers met your clothed core. You tried your best to hold in the moan you held in your throat.

“Shh…quiet, кролик” You know there’s blood on your panties, you know the soldat does too.

Except, he doesn't seem to give a shit. His fingers prod at your entrance before removing your panties entirely, along with the pad stuck to them.

The soldat looks at your cunt, the mask hiding any real facial expression. You shiver from the cold air hitting your exposed folds.

He takes two metal fingers and slides them through your folds, gathering both blood and slick. The soldat purrs as you whine. “Relax -Going to hurt, stay still.”

You do as you are told, unable to stop the soldat as he places a flesh hand against your stomach, while two metal digits slide into your cunt.

"Beautiful, sweetheart.” The Soldat hums, pushing down just a little on your tummy as the digits slowly slide in and out of you. The pain eases at whatever he’s doing to you, and pleasure becomes more prominent.

You can hear the sound of your slick as he fingers you, your back arching off the bed as he picks up the pace, adding more pressure to your stomach. “Good, кролик. Right there.”

“Doing so well for your soldat. -think you can cum for him? Hmm?”

Fuck. The edge is so fucking close and your itching to barrel over it. The soldier can feel your cunt squeezing his fingers and can see the look in your eyes as you're about to come.

His metal digits speed up, going at a pace that is sure to push you over the edge. He releases his flesh hand from your stomach to pinch your aching clit.

It’s over from there. “Soldat! Soldat- fuck ” you cry out, heart pumping and legs shaking as he works you through it, pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“So good for your soldat. Look so pretty when you come for him, so beautiful.” The soldat slides his fingers out of you, wiping your juices on his pant leg.

The soldier undoes his belt buckle, sliding off the weapon-studded pants and throwing them into the darkness of the bedroom. His cock is throbbing, angry, and red.

“Ready to be bred, Кролик? Take all you're given?” His boxers are next, his metal hand wraps around the waistband. The fabric is torn from his body in one snap.

Your legs shake and your hips squirm as he lines his cock up with your entrance, his body crowding over you, balancing himself with a hand on the headboard. “You're so wet. I bet I’d just…”

His cock nudges your fold, “-Slide right in.” The pain hits you immediately as the soldat bottoms out. You can hear him curse in Russian under the mask, as he rests his head on your shoulder.

Skin meets skin as he gives time for you to adjust to his size. You’ve taken him many times before, but it’s different on your cycle.

It’s like your womb opens up a little more for him.

“So good, sweetheart.” He moans, sliding out to just half of his length before snapping his hips to you. You can feel everything. Every throbbing vein on his cock, every breath he groans through his mask.

The Soldat always has a primal urge when you're bleeding, he needs to come inside you, needs to breed your cunt.

He wants to mark you as his.

“Soldat-" you moan, feeling his cock slide out another couple of inches, until he’s balls deep again, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock.

The entire bed shakes with the force of the soldat fucking you, and he fucks you hard. He’s so needy, desperate to fill you up with his seed. His moans and groans do not go unheard as his flesh hand presses on your stomach.

“Watch me fuck you, Кролик. See me sliding in and out?” All you can do is nod your head, words do not come easily.

Winter Soldier presses that hand on your tummy, pushing down as he stills, balls pressed to your skin as his cock twitches inside of you. “Feel me in your guts."

A few more thrusts has you clamping down on his cock, and when the soldier feels it, he goes fucking feral.

“Milk your Soldat's cock while he fills up your pretty pussy.” The soldier does exactly as he promises, shooting rope after rope of cum inside you.

Later, he flips you on your back so your pressed to his muscled chest, cock stuffing you full, keeping his load inside you. The Soldat mutters something like, “helps with the pain.”

And damn him, he’s right.

[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

The List (8)

Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader

Warnings: Violence

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Not Beta’d.

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 8

Luxurious silk sheets glided through Y/N's fingers like butter as she reached for her husband. There was a gentle rustling beneath her fingertips amidst the cool sheets. Opening her eyes, a soft smile spread across her face as she discovered a note waiting for her.

Back soon. - Bucky x

Instead of waiting for Bucky to return, Y/N slipped her phone into the pocket of her maroon silk robe, then searched for Bucky in the only place he could be this early in the morning, his office. She had been walking on clouds the last 72 hours. If it weren't for the glint of the ring on her finger and the tousled bed sheets, she might have wondered if it had all been a figment of her imagination.

Bucky had always been a busy man; the active hit list only expedited his desire to capture Loki. Apparently, three days was all Bucky was willing to spare, even on house arrest. Y/N knew the expiration date for the honeymoon phase would arrive earlier the second time around. She couldn’t fault him for trying to protect his family. Their family.

Quietly slipping into the office, Y/N was met with the back of Bucky’s high-backed lavish chair. The sunlight pouring in from the window glinted off of his polished dress shoes that were protruding from the side of the chair. Her eyes homed in on the ankle monitor peeking out beneath the hem of his slacks where his crossed ankles rested on the bookshelf.

He was too relaxed to be working. Was he sleeping? Why would he sleep in the office instead of their bedroom? Y/N ran circles around her mind scouring for anything she might have done to drive him away. Coming up empty-handed, she pushed forward.

“Bucky,” Y/N cooed. Her hand glided along the top of the leather chair as she rounded it.

His feet came crashing down with a start, nearly knocking a few statues off the bookshelf.

Stumbling backward, Y/N’s eyes widened.

“Peter?! What are you doing here? Where’s Bucky?”

Peter scratched the back of his neck, his face flush as he spoke, “Uh, Mr. Barnes is working. He asked me to cover for him.”

“He asked you?” Y/N frowned, crossing her arms. “Where is he now?”

Lifting his pant leg, Peter grumbled, “More like told me.” His chocolate eyes jerked open. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Y/N’s frown deepened. “Where is he?”

Peter shrugged. “He left this morning with Mr. Odinson.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, he told me to tell you something.” He spun in the chair and began ransacking Bucky’s desk.

Perched on the edge of the desk, Y/N combed the top for anything noteworthy that might stand out.

“So, Bucky left you in charge?” Y/N hummed, attempting to understand what was going on.

Peter's fingers fumbled with the pockets of his slack as he shook his head. “He just told me to be him for the day. You know, do what he normally does so no one gets suspicious about the ankle monitor. Follow his routine.” He checked his watch briefly. “The last three days he's been locked away in his room, but he told me that was off limits, so I went to his office. That’s where he usually was at this time before you came back,” he blabbed.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Clearing his throat, Peter tidied his suit jacket and sat upright.

“Come in,” he called in a mock deep voice.

Y/N stifled a laugh, clearing her throat to mask her amusement at the boy's unsuccessful attempt to imitate Bucky.

One of Bucky’s men lingered in the doorway. His eyes glossed over Peter, a frown of disapproval etched on his face. Then his eyes landed on Y/N. 

She raised her chin, ignoring her lack of dress.

The man however, allowed his eyes to roam over the expanse of her exposed skin as he spoke, “Bucky’s lawyer is here.”

Y/N eyes trailed down to Peter as he snapped his fingers. With his pointer finger turned to the sky, a look of relief crossed his face. “That’s what I was supposed to tell you.”

With pursed lips, Y/N turned back to the man ogling her in the doorway. “Get rid of the lawyer. Tell him Bucky isn’t feeling well and will call to reschedule when he is-”

Click. Click. Click.

The man in the doorway hissed, bending at the waist to rub his calf. 

“My apologies,” a man in a gray suit with red tinted glasses spoke as his white cane struck the door frame.

The male in the doorway scoffed as the blind man successfully shut the door behind him.

“How did-” Peter wondered out loud. Y/N shot him a glare, silencing the boy.

“Sorry about him,” Y/N rounded the desk gently tapping the man’s forearm, “May I?”

The man tilted his head down in the direction of her voice and gave a subtle nod.

“Matt Murdock, at your service.” He introduced as Y/N guided him into a chair across from Bucky’s desk.

Y/N patted Mr. Murdock’s arm as he settled into the chair. His hand rested on top of hers, preventing her from running away. Matt’s head turned in her direction, “And you are?”

“Y/N Barnes,” she whispered.

Something about the way he stared at her made Y/N feel like he could see through her. As if he was able to read her just as well as her husband was able to. Unlike Bucky, Matt was a stranger. He couldn’t possibly be able to read her that well.

“Thank you, Y/N.” As soon as Matt lifted his hand, Y/N backed away. “It’s nice to finally meet the wife of my client.” His head cocked in Peter’s direction. “And who might you be?”

Peter spared Y/N a nervous glance before he introduced himself as Bucky in the same poor impression.

Y/N hid her face behind her hands.

Matt tilted his head. “Are you aware that it is a criminal offense to impersonate someone else?”

Peter’s eyes widened as he pulled at his dress shirt’s collar. “Did I say Bucky? I don't know why I said that. I’m Peter. Definitely Peter,” he rushed.

Y/N stepped forward, noticing the way Matt’s head turned slightly at her movement. “Bucky is unable to meet with you today.”

Without missing a beat, Matt pressed forward, “I guess that gives us enough time to discuss your side of the story. I don’t recommend putting a client or their significant other on the stand, but your husband isn’t exactly the most likable man in New York. I’ll need your help to humanize Mr. Barnes to the jury.”

Y/N’s mouth gaped open as she dropped on the edge of the desk. “You’re going to put me on the stand?”

The corner of Matt’s lips turned upward. “Even if you could guarantee your husband’s innocence, the other lawyer would try to pull secrets out of you to incriminate Mr. Barnes. None of which would help this case or your marriage.”

Y/N sighed in relief.

“Besides, Mr. Barnes had declined your involvement during the trial and requested to keep his marriage out of it.”

“So, what do you need from me?”

“A photographer caught you and Mr. Barnes kissing at the event. I’ll need your statement of what happened to keep you off the stand. According to your husband, no one loves Mr. Barnes more than his wife. Surely you can enlighten me on some of his better qualities for the jury.”

Heat pricked beneath the surface of Y/N’s skin. Her heart swelled at the thought of Bucky leaving his character in her hands. Bucky may walk around with the confidence of a lion in a jungle, but behind closed doors, he curses his life. Not only did Y/N love Bucky, she also knew him better than anyone. If the case relied solely on her image of Bucky, he’d walk out of the courthouse a freeman.

Still, it didn’t feel right to speak about Bucky without him present. It was his trial and image. Not only would the public be watching, his enemies would be as well. Y/N’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the wood of the desk. “I should really wait for-”

A vibration from her robe pocket stunned her. Loki’s name flashed across her cellphone.

Steve. He told her to find him the next time Loki reached out. She needed to find Steve. He could trace the call.

“Is Steve here?”

Matt perked up at the urgency in her voice.

“No,” Peter responded.

Y/N cursed under her breath.

“Do you need to take that?” Matt asked.

Y/N shook her head. She shouldn’t. Bucky and Steve weren’t here. The less contact with Loki the better. “It’s just an ex.” Her finger hovered over the decline button.

“Loki?” Matt took her silence as confirmation. “Mr. Barnes told me about the hit list.” Matt drummed his fingertips along the arm of the chair. “You should answer it. On speaker.”

Y/N hesitated. Fuck Steve for not being here when Loki called. Her finger shifted, answering the call instead.

“Hello?”

Matt and Peter leaned forward.

“Pet,” Loki breathed, “you answered.”

“What do you want?” Y/N grumbled.

“I wanted to thank you.” Loki hummed. “Bucky Barnes is cunning and deceitful. That makes a man hard to catch.” Y/N stomach twisted as Loki beamed on the other end. She could hear the smile on his face which could only mean things were going his way. “Then you showed up with more wounds than a stray. A ring and a list later and you were leading me right to him.”

“Is this a game to you? People are dying,” Y/N snarled.

“You should be thanking me for fixing that pathetic excuse of a marriage you had,” he spat. “Thank you for returning the ring. I would have been offended if you weren’t so predictable.”

Y/N bit her tongue. “You’re hurt. You don’t mean any of that.”

“I could’ve loved you. I didn’t want to, but I did in the beginning.” He paused. “It was you who never loved me.” Y/N opened her mouth ready to protest, but Loki beat her to it. “I gave you the world and it still wasn't enough. All because I wasn’t him. I could never compete with him.”

“Loki,” Y/N breathed. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t true. She wanted to tell him she had loved him. She did. She just loved Bucky more.

“I loathed Barnes before I met you. Now, I loathe you too,” he hissed, his voice laced with venom.

“You’re killing people.”

“You think Barnes has never gotten his hands dirty? If you believe people are loyal to him because they adore him, then you’d be mistaken. I’m killing the Barnes empire and everything that comes with it.” He paused. “You always looked divine in red,” Loki trailed off.

Y/N only had enough time to peek down at the maroon robe she wore.

“Get down!” Matt shouted, tackling Y/N off the desk. Her back hit the wooden floor knocking the wind out of her.

SMASH.

Y/N’s body tensed beneath the lawyer. Her forearms shielding her face from the shards of glass that fell around them.

With his back against the wall, Peter peeked out of the broken window with his gun raised high.

Y/N’s body grew rigid with tension as she awaited the next move. Her muscles involuntarily contracted as gunshots reverberated through the air.

It wasn’t until Peter was standing above her with his hand outstretched in her direction that her muscles began to relax. Accepting Peter’s hand, she stood spotting the lawyer standing by the window dusting off his pants.

“How did you-” Y/N began, but she didn’t know which of the million questions swirling her brain to ask.

The corner of Matt’s lips jerked upward as he rested both hands on the top of his cane in front of him.

“I’m a really good lawyer.”

Concern etched onto Peter’s face as he surveyed the wrecked office.

“Do you want me to clean this up before Mr. Barnes sees it?”

Y/N shook her head, tiptoeing around the broken glass searching for her discarded phone.

Matt cleared his throat, holding up Y/N’s phone in his left hand. A spider crack stretched across the face of the phone. Y/N frowned, plucking the useless phone from his fingers. At least Loki was gone.

“We should talk.” Matt gestured to the window. “Perhaps somewhere away from windows.”

Y/N eyed the man and his cane suspiciously.

“Follow me.”

Peter kept his eyes trained on the lawyer the entire way to the boardroom. He racked his brain for an explanation to Matt Murdock’s fast reflexes and he was sure Y/N was doing the same.

Once the doors closed behind them, Matt faced the two. His hands resting on the cane before him.

“In the interest of my client’s unique situation, I did some research. If I may advise you, off the record, on the Loki situation.”

Hope filled Y/N’s chest at the prospect of the hit list coming to an end.

With Y/N’s consent, Matt stated the obvious, “Loki isn’t going anywhere, and neither is the hit list.” He cocked his head. “What do you know about the dead pool?"

Next Chapter

Taglist: @vicmc624 @winterslove1917 @unaxv @hangmanscoming @globetrotter28 @athenabarnes @shara-ne @mal-adaptive-dreams @jvanilly @d3m0n8ch1ld @ppbhquinn @alysianc @firstcashheroathlete @malum-forev @missvelvetsstuff @animegirlgeeky @blue786sworld @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @alessandraavengers @ozwriterchick @nerdgirljen @emily-roberts @pandabearrrrrrr @venting402 @barewithme02 @introverbatim @buckybarnessimpp @mega-kittyglitter-1 @yung-griffyndork0 @toriluvsfics @samahenoyrhye @motivation-idontknowher @pics-and-fanfics @po55um @devil11197 @keeperofsecrets6411 @natasha-died-4-our-sins @marvel-marauder16 @sugamilkteaxkookiesxcream @mcu21lover19 @imgaybutimstraight @buckysbarne @playboystark @sargexcapsprincess @eviltinkerbell14 @quethekillerqueen @barewithme02 @buuuuuuucky @reader-without-a-story @5lutty5arah

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Who is This? - Back to Brooklyn

Summary: Bucky and Y/N Barnes go back to Brooklyn.

Main | Bucky Masterlist | Series

Authors note: was thinking of changing the series title to Babydoll? Any thoughts?

It was Y/N's last shift at the bar in Madripoor, as the owners surprised them with the sudden closure of the bar at the end of the working week.

Bucky and Sam (who was somewhat reluctant to come along) walked into the bar ten minutes before closing. They saw Y/N dancing behind the bar with the blonde curly-haired woman and a redhead woman, as they sang along with the title track from Lady Marmalade - it was one Sam had forced Bucky to watch.

"Voulez-vous coucher avec mou, ce soir? Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?" The three women sang as Bucky and Sam made their way to the bartop.

"You do know what that means, don't you, babydoll?" Bucky asks, looking at his wife with a smirk.

She looks over at him with a matching smirk. "I'm surprised you know what it means, considering you were always skipping French class for that girl Dotty."

The smirk on Bucky's face slipped like a mask. "You knew about that?" His face pales considerably.

"Oh, please, James. I didn't know until you confirmed it," she tells him, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his nose. She had very nearly played him when Bucky reached his hands up to cup her face and plant a kiss on her lips.

When he pulled away, he looked her dead in the eyes. "I swear to you, babydoll, nothing happened with Dotty. Nothing happened with any of them. I know I had a bit of a reputation-"

Y/N snorted. "A bit? I'm pretty sure there was writing on the girls' bathroom at the diner. For a good time, find James Barnes. You were a total ladies' man."

"There was only one lady I wanted, and I married her."

"She better not find you here with me then. I think she might get very jealous."

Bucky chuckled to himself as the group behind the bar completed their shift for the final time. Y/N was counting the money in the till as Yasmine stood beside her with a calculator counting card receipts, whilst Mark went to properly lock the door (unlike last time when Bucky was able to get in).

Y/N finished counting the money and then looked at their manager (who had made a surprise visit, most likely to make sure they all got paid).

Their manager started counting out the money for their wages, as Y/N walked over to where Bucky and Sam were standing, waiting for her. "How are you, babydoll?" Bucky asks her, wrapping his metal arm around her waist and running his fingers through her hair - they had learnt what happens when Bucky's metal hand gets entangled with her hair. Safe to say, that was a somewhat embarrassing situation...

"I'm OK," she says half-heartedly. "I'm just going to have to find somewhere new to work," she tells him, as her manager hands her a small stack of $50s and $20s.

"Why don't you come back to Brooklyn with me?" He offers, slipping her purse from her shoulder, before handing over her wallet from said purse.

Y/N considers this. "Why not? It would be a nice change from this place."

Bucky tightly wrapped his arms around his wife. "You coming home with me, babydoll?"

"Did you honestly expect anything else?"

Bucky unlocked the door to his apartment, holding Y/N's suitcase in one hand with his backpack thrown over his shoulder.

"Welcome home, babydoll," he tells her, watching as his wife walks into the apartment. He sets down her suitcase and his bag as she takes a look around the room.

"James?"

"Yeah, babydoll?"

"What's that?"

'That' she was referring to just so happened to be the pile of sheets and lone pillowcase on the floor.

How the hell does he explain this to his wife...?

"Erm... that's where I sleep."

"Where's your bed?"

"In the bedroom," he says, looking away from her to their belongings.

He didn't see Y/N pursed her lips and mull over his words. For all he knew, they were going to be sleeping in separate places until he could finally deem himself worthy of sleeping in the same bed as his wife.

"James? Where did you go, my love?" She asks, which is when Bucky notices she is toe-to-toe with him, cradling his face with her hands. "You completely missed what I was saying."

"I'm sorry, babydoll."

She giggled and pressed a kiss to his nose before looking at him in his eyes. "We're going to take this at your speed, I don't mind sleeping on the floor, I just want to make sure you know you can talk to me and tell me when you're ready to sleep on the sofa and then possibly in our bed."

Bucky is silent as he takes her words in. What did he do to deserve her? He couldn't even form words to tell her just how much he loves her. So, he wrapped her up in the tightest hug known, hoping it was enough for her to understand the depth of his feelings.

[okieedokes]

girl worth writing to | john egan x f!reader

summary : john pays you a visit while he’s on leave and things get melodramatic lol

warnings : brief mention of suicide, doesn't exactly follow the events of the show

word count : 888

The vibration of gentle snores rouse you from your sleep, your eyes search for the clock ticking away on your nightstand.

5:04 am

The sun had barely risen yet and you cursed yourself for being such a light sleeper, knowing the day you had ahead of you. However, the sight of shirtless John Egan dozing peacefully beside you was certainly one for sore eyes. You lifted a hand to his disheveled curls and attempted to stroke them back into place, whilst your mind replayed the events of the night before…

5:34 pm

You had just returned to your flat from another agonising day at the infirmary, to the incessant ring of the telephone. You are hesitant to answer, as you are sure it’s your head nurse, calling to inform you there’s been another emergency and you would need to return.

With a deep breath you lower yourself onto the edge of the bed and retrieve the telephone.

“Hello?…” You had meant to use a more formal introduction but simply couldn’t find the strength.

“Y/N?! It’s me, Bucky! You remember?” He teased.

You had half the mind to pretend you had forgotten the pilot after not hearing a word from him in almost six months.

“Unfortunately, I do remember.” You mask your tone with sarcasm.

“Atta girl!” He remarked and you found yourself repressing a smile as you imagined the cheeky grin on his face.

“I just completed my twenty-fifth mission today and it was frankly very nearly my last, so they’re graciously giving me the weekends leave!” He boasts sarcastically and you suppress a giggle.

“Lucky Buck!” You retort and hear him scoff.

“Anyways, I was thinking I’d come pay you and London a visit…that’s if you’d have me, of course.”

You take a pause, pretending you have a choice. Unfortunately the truth of the matter was that you’d take the Major in, always and forever no-matter the heartache, come his departure.

“Do you still remember the address?” You asked, placing a hand to your stomach in an attempt to ease the brewing butterflies.

“I couldn’t forget if I tried sweetheart, I’ll see you soon enough.” He teased playfully and ended the call.

You sighed at the realisation that you would have to spend all evening making your tired self presentable for the pilot, knowing deep down that for John it would always be worth it.

5:36 am

You jump at the feeling of his large hand wrap around your wrist that was still embedded in his hair. You feel your cheeks grow bright red as you push your body towards the opposite side of the bed.

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean you scare ya.” He croaks in his deep morning voice that never fails to make your knees weak.

“That’s okay! I need to get ready for my shift anyways.” You stutter wrapping yourself in the bedsheet as you crawl out of bed.

“Y/N please…” Bucky groans and grasps at the sheet that is now tightly wound around your shivering frame.

“You always do this…it’s too early and it’s bloody freezing.” He pleads and gently pulls you back into the bed and his embrace, gently guiding your into head to the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry I scared you…twenty-five missions…it’s starting to get to me now, I think.” He admits whilst stroking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I can only imagine the horrors you boys have endured…” You whisper.

“You would probably understand more than most Y/N…what with the hospital and all the bombings.” He adds, his tone soft and comforting as he continues to stroke your hair. This is not the witty and sarcastic John you were familiar with.

“I suppose you could say that.” You mumble as you fidget with the dog tag that hangs around his neck, a cruel reminder.

“I guess it doesn’t help that I have this American pilot of mine who when I’m sure has gone and died on me-”You attempt a teasing tone but it falls flat.

“What’s all this about me being a goner? Don’t you have any faith Y/N?” He interjects, his tone only half joking.

“Well you never write or call? What am I supposed to think?!” You feel anger boiling in your chest as you push yourself away from him.

“Or maybe I’m just not worth writing to!” You accuse before John had time to even consider a response to your sudden outburst.

“I promise it’s nothing like that Y/N… you know how I feel about you. Christ! I wouldn’t be using my weekend off like this if I didn’t have feelings for you!” He scrambles to defuse the situation, knowing your spirited ways.

“Oh really?!” You mock.

“Y/N these missions, they’re suicide! I couldn’t never let you get involved with me now! It would be cruel!” His statement cuts the conversation like a knife, silence falling over the entire flat.

A tear rolls down your cheek as you stifle a sob.

“I-I’m sorry John…but I think I’m already…involved.” You stutter.

The pilot sighs, using the bedsheet gathered around your waist to pull you back down into the mattress, so now you are pinned underneath him. There's nowhere to hide.

“If you only knew how many times I’ve heard your voice in my head or seen your face in a crowd…” He whispers whilst gently placing a kiss to each of your tear soaked cheeks.

“You’re my girl…I’m sorry I ever made your feel like you weren't worth writing to.” His tone is soft but sincere.

Without looking away, he reaches for a scrap of paper that was resting atop your bedside table.

“In fact I’ll start right now…My dearest Y/N…” He declares in a exaggerated british accent and you playful slap his shoulder, giving him permission to attack you with kisses again.

When he finally pulls away your eyes meet and you raise a hand to his cheek.

“Come back to me, Major Egan.” The words tumble out before you even able to acknowledge they are there.

“Always.” He whispers, before burying is head in your chest. It wasn't long before you feel his soft snores radiating against your body again.

[avonne-writes]

the honeymoon fic sneak peak is SO GOOD im so excited

Eee thank you so much! 🥰 I'm sorry I keep getting sidetracked, but I'm working on the fic. How about another sneak peek?

A cool brush of air chases a shiver down Gale's naked body as the AC blasts it into the room. Bucky's warm hands catch it at Gale's right ankle, cradling the joint in a gentle grip, and thumbs press into the sole of Gale's foot. He huffs, shifting on the sheets as a different kind of shiver tickles its way back up his body.

There's no sound but the rhythm of his breathing and the beat of his heart. No light, just the dark cover of the sleep mask over his eyes. His wrists lie crossed above his head, and he’s completely bare in the middle of their hotel bed. He doesn’t know what Bucky's doing, whether he’s staring at Gale’s face or another part of his body, whether he’s about to lean down and kiss his skin. The grip of his hands on Gale’s ankle is anchoring, but it draws back, and suddenly, Gale is alone.

"John, John." He says, his voice distorted and muffled to his ears through the headphones. "I'm scared. I -"

The mattress dips on either side of his hips, then the headphones are pulled away. Bucky's palm strokes his chest soothingly.

"I'm sorry, had to take my clothes off." He dips down to kiss the corner of Gale’s lips. "Do you want to stop?"

Gale takes a deep breath, grounding himself in the warmth of Bucky's body. "No." He says eventually.

"Okay." Bucky kisses him again. He reaches up to rub Gale's wrists and hands. "Remember that you can always move."

Gale laughs into his next exhale. He squeezes Bucky's fingers. He doesn’t know how he managed to forget that. Nothing binds him but his own free will to stay still for his husband. "Okay."

Bucky nips at his biceps, making the smile on Gale’s face widen. "Wanna ditch the headphones?"

It takes only a moment's pause to decide. "No, put them back on."

Bucky chuckles against Gale's arm.

[navybrat817]

How is addicted to love Bucko doing? 🥺

He had a bit of a rough morning, nonnie.

Revere

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky assumes the worst after a bad dream.

Word Count: Over 1.8k

Warnings: Slight angst, a touch of fluff, talk of nightmares, Bucky thinking the worst of himself, implied E.S.C., Bucky Barnes in love (he’s a warning, okay?).

A/N: Unplanned fic and I hope you lovelies enjoy. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Header by yours truly, banner by the lovely @sgt-seabass , and divider by the amazing @rookthorne . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky would never be the perfect man, but he wanted to be the best version of himself that he could be. His nightmares, however, served as a reminder that he used to be a monster. No, that wasn't right. He was not a monster.

He was always there in his own mind though, trapped in a cage with the key out of reach. A version of himself in the mask couldn't give it to him as he was dragged away to inflict more pain. The weapon that was his body caused unspeakable horror while all he could do was scream for no one to hear.

And for the first time, he heard you scream back at him to save you.

His lungs burned as he sat up in bed, a light bead of sweat on his brow as he inhaled. It was difficult to make out in the dark where he was before he remembered he was in his own bedroom. Another deep breath surrounded him with familiar, calming scents, like your perfume lingering on the sheets. He began to count to ten in his head as he rubbed his face with both hands.

One. My name is Bucky Barnes. Two. I am no longer the Winter Soldier. Three. I didn't hurt anyone. Four. I'm home. Five. You're-

His hands dropped when he realized he didn't hear your steady breathing. The sheet was cold beside him as he stretched his arm to touch nothing. You weren't there. If you didn't have items occupying the room, he would've thought you had been a figment of his imagination.

A dream that slipped away like his memories when he woke up.

Bucky didn't call out for you immediately, but panic began to bubble in his chest when he didn't hear a single noise in the apartment. He snatched his phone from the nightstand and didn't see any missed calls or texts. You didn't have to work today and you hadn't mentioned running any errands. There was no note for him on the nightstand.

Nothing.

"Pick up, please," he whispered when he dialed your number.

You didn't answer.

Tears brimmed his eyes as he hung up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, torn between rage and fright as he tried to keep from shaking. Did someone find you? Take you away? Were you the price to pay for his sins?

What am I supposed to do?

He bolted to the bedroom door and threw it open when he heard the key turn in the front door handle, thankful that he slipped a pair of boxers on the night before. He ran into the living room just in time to see you carefully open the door with one hand as you balanced a small box with the other. You quietly pushed the door closed with your foot, like you were trying not to make any noise.

"You're okay," he whispered as you turned around with a smile.

You're real. You're safe. You're home.

"Bucky, you should still be asleep," you said before you got a good look at him and set the box and your keys on the hallway table. "What's wrong?"

He went to you and framed your face with his hands, trying to silently assure you that he was okay. But the corners of his lips tugged into a tight smile, too tense to say that he was just fine. The cool air from outside clung to your skin as he breathed in and a sweet scent from the box drifted to his nostrils as well. Another familiar smell from a time before he knew real pain.

"You're okay," his voice cracked and it took everything in him not to crush his body against yours.

"Bucky, did you have a nightmare?" you asked, holding onto his wrists with a worried gaze.

"Yeah," he answered, wishing in that moment that he could be a normal guy for you. "I woke up and I called you and-"

"I wasn't there and I didn't answer," you finished for him, gently batting his hands away from your face so you could lead him back into the living room to sit on the couch. "Bucky, I'm so sorry. I was trying to surprise you and thought I'd be back before you got up."

Of course, you did. You're an amazing girlfriend.

"You're home now," he said as he sat beside you.

Here in our sanctuary where danger can't permeate these walls if I can help it.

Shades of yellow and orange crept into the room through the window as the sun came up more, the silence stretching on before he found himself with his head in your lap. You stroked his hair back with a tiny smile when he turned to look at you, but you didn't push him to talk about his nightmare. He was thankful for that.

He usually woke you when he had a nightmare and you never complained as you soothed him. Not once. You were always beside him.

Until today.

"I'm sorry," he said, his throat tight as he felt his mind drift far away.

Your touch brought him back.

“Don't be. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me,” you said softly. "And I'm sorry I didn't leave a note. I really thought I'd be back, but that's no excuse."

He swallowed as guilt set in. You went out to surprise him and now you were apologizing because he couldn't handle having a bad dream. You did so much for him, for others. He didn't want to be one more person who had to turn to you.

“You’re here. You're always here when I need you and I appreciate that so much,” he promised, swallowing a little again. “But I heard you scream."

"In your nightmare?" you guessed as he shut his eyes. "Oh, Bucky. I'm okay. I'm right here," you assured him.

"I just got scared when I woke up alone."

Logically, he knew the chances of something happening to you were slim, but the fright he felt after his bad dream was enough to deter him when he woke up in an empty, cold bed.

"And I didn't actually get up until I heard the front door," he continued, trying to find the right words. "It was like I couldn't move until I heard the key in the door."

"It's okay."

"No, it isn't."

"How long were you awake before I got back?" you asked.

"Not long," he said as he thought about it. "But you should be able to depend on me should you be in trouble."

"And I can. I know I can. I don't think you give yourself enough credit," you said, running your fingers through his hair again in a soothing pattern. "You said you called me. I'll bet you listened for me, too."

"But I felt like I froze," he said. "Like I didn't take enough action."

Like whatever went wrong was my fault.

"Calling me was a form of taking action," you pointed out. "Had I not walked through the door, I know you would have gotten up and looked for me if something was wrong."

"That's true," he agreed. He would have done everything in power to find or help you had something happened. He just didn't understand why he jumped to a terrible conclusion instead of thinking logically. "So why was I so scared today?

"Because you're human and you woke up from what was likely a very realistic nightmare."

The horrors that went through his dark dreams actually happened and he didn't want your pain to become one of those twisted memories.

"I'm messed up," he whispered as he opened his eyes.

Not my fault, but I am.

"You're not messed up. You're a work in progress. We all are," you said with such earnestness that his heart ached. "Some days won't be easy, but you learn from your experiences and allow yourself to feel. You may even learn to give yourself the grace you deserve."

There was no frustration or impatience in your tone. Nothing to admonish him for why he felt the way he did. Only infinite patience and love that he was lucky enough to receive.

"And if I stumble along the way?" he asked.

"Stumbling means you're doing something right, Bucky," you said, helping him sit up. "To me, it isn't about how you fall. It's how you pick yourself up again."

Bucky shifted closer with a hint of a smile. "How do you always know exactly what to say?"

How do you soothe the pain inside me?

"I don't, but I do want to help."

You already are.

"The box by the door. What is it?" he asked.

"Oh," you said as you dropped your head for a second. "You mentioned that old bakery you liked and I made sure to get up extra early so I could bring you back something."

"The Italian Bakery?" he smiled.

"Yeah, that one," you smiled at him.

He mentioned it to you when he told you an old story. No wonder the smell reminded him of a happier time. It shouldn't have shocked him that you wanted to surprise him.

"You must have been quiet. Hard to sneak past me," he half joked.

"You were in a pretty deep sleep when I left. I must have worn you out last night," you teased as he chuckled, a quiet and heartfelt sound. "I thought it would be nice treat for you to wake up to."

There was still a bit of tension in Bucky's body as he kissed your lips, but he could breathe easier.

My beautiful, thoughtful other half.

"Thank you."

"I can go get it," you offered.

"Stay here?" he asked when you moved to stand, not letting you go. "Please?"

Just stay right here when I can see and touch you.

"Okay," you whispered.

Bucky didn't allow himself to cry immediately as he held you and traded lazy kisses, but he let a tear slip by the time he pulled you into his lap after he wordlessly tore at your fabric that covered your skin. He mouthed a declaration of love against your lips as his breath caught in his throat, revered by you. Maybe you were the price of his sins, but he would find a way to be your savior.

The man and hero you deserve.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too."

You gasped when Bucky slid his cock into you and gently took hold of your hips when he couldn't go any deeper. He throbbed inside you and nosed along your neck as you shuddered. Fucking you properly was what his body wanted to do. His mind, on the other hand, didn't need to go any further for now.

He just needed the comfort of you, his home.

And the depths of his mind, the key slid into place and unlocked the cage.

Maybe it wasn't so far out of reach after all.

Oh, I love him. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Addicted to Love Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[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”

taglist

@alltoomaples @jadeofspadesxp @leptitlu @mendes-bae

[blixabargelds]

last line(s) tag

tagged by @soliloquy-dawn thank you <3

“We aren’t in a three-way relationship,” John says. Gale rolls his eyes, but John can feel him yield in the way he softens in his hold, allowing himself to hit the sheets again. 

“Ain’t in any relationship,” Gale reminds him. John smiles at him, pushing his legs further open. Gale goes easy. His breath hitches as John presses two fingers back inside him. “’M serious, Bucky. We’ve talked- ah- about-”

“I know, I know,” John says, a third finger sliding into Gale’s body with almost no resistance. He opens him back up for a moment, until Gale’s writhing beneath him, fucking himself down on John's hand. John pulls out, lowers himself to kiss Gale’s left hip. Repeats from memory; “If we don’t get picked up for a fourth season. Don’t shit where you eat. Although-”

“Jesus, John,” Gale gasps as John dips lower, pushes his tongue into him just briefly. “You’re- Christ- you're incorrigible.”  

John laughs as he sits up again, lining his cock up, pressing in just a little. Gale grunts, relents his mask of steel finally, wrapping his legs around John’s back and dragging him forward. John falls down onto his elbows as he bottoms out, watching in awe as Gale arches up, moaning into his mouth.

“Say incorrigible again,” John challenges, pulling out nearly all the way before driving his hips home with force.

Gale only whines.

i never know who's been tagged in these things they seem to go around in waves so no pressure at all tagging @irregularcollapse @weimarweekly @whirlpool-blogs

[builder051]

NaNo 2024 day 16: From the diary of Steven Grant Rogers

(Canon departure post Civil War— Steve takes Bucky home instead of taking him to Wakanda)

Note: This is Steve’s (first person) perspective, and all of the he/him pronouns refer to Bucky. I want this to be both realistic as a stream-of-conscious diary entry and a well-rounded piece of writing.

Note: No trigger warnings. No plot. Not a sickfic (sorry).

——————————

Now that everyone knows his name, everyone knows his reputation. But he’s not ruthless and soulless. That’s not the man I know. That’s not the man I see. But then again, that’s looking through my filter.

I’ll never forget the day he invited me to Thanksgiving. It wasn’t so much an invitation as a masked order with enticing details tagged on the end. With Ma having just passed, I put on my own version of hard and cold. It’s not a good look on either one of us. I wish coming off the ice would’ve pushed away some of the raw grief of losing him. But even now, I look into his face, and I know he’s still lost.

It’s almost worse when he’s in the here and now. He knows what the public thinks of him, and he knows they’re right. It was never his fault, never his choice to be turned into a weapon of mass destruction. It’s lucky HYDRA failed in the end and left a little piece of him behind in his brain, because that’s what we’re teasing out day by day. I’m well aware of what else is left in his brain, and I know it’s luckier still that he hasn’t tried to strangle me.

I’ve tried to learn about the elasticity and healing properties of the human brain. Today’s combat vets aren’t coming away quite so bad, though I doubt any treatment could hijack him back into the person he used to be.

When we first got back stateside, I got us a place in Brooklyn. The skyline’s a little different from when we left it, but I thought he might like something familiar. I’m constantly thinking about what he might like. I don’t mind taking the lead on a project, but it’s different when it comes to how someone should think or act. I don’t think I aught to be in charge. When it comes down to it, the decades that’ve passed mean nothing. He’s lived more than I have. Survived more than I have. More than I can ever imagine.

When I first set up the bedroom, I made it like barracks. Two single beds pushed up against the walls and just the basics on the side tables. The same way as everything else, I don’t want to stress him about sleep. I want him to get comfortable in his memories on his own time.

Last night I had a shower and dressed for bed in the hall bathroom, trying not to make too much noise since he’d called it an early night. When I walked into the bedroom, I found him on my side of the room, shirtless and stretched out on his stomach, my sheets and blanket bunched up against his chest. I stood there awkwardly for a moment, trying my best not to breathe. He still must’ve sensed my presence, because he shifted a little to the side and extended his arm. His eyes were still shut and his face still buried in the pillow. He might’ve been thinking of strangling me, but through my filter, it looked like love.

[buckyalpine]

Yours to Claim

King!Bucky x reader

Warnings: angsty, SMUTT, flufff, Arranged marriage, virginity loss, marriage consummation, bit of bleeding, King Bucky is a sexy, loving, protective warning.

You stood in your new chambers, fidgeting with the lace of your dress, eyes flickering to the various pieces of art work that decorated the walls; moments earlier you had signed your life away to a man you had never met before in exchange for an alliance over war. 

A promise of peace if the two kingdoms united; an easy fix at no one’s expense. 

Except yours. 

You flinched at the sound of the door clicking shut, the king, and now your husband, silencing the hushed whispers on the other side before making his way over to you. Even if his advisors and servants were now quiet, you knew at least one would be lingering around the door way, listening.

Waiting.

You still hadn’t seen him properly, having kept your gaze down to mask the tears that had threatened to fall throughout the ceremony. To your surprise, he didn’t drag you to bed like you expected; instead he strode past and removed some of the many layers he wore for the ceremony before standing in front of you again. 

“I hope everything's been to your liking princess-” You were caught off guard with his question, your eyes flicking up, surprised to find soft blue ones looking down at you. “-and that you’ll be happy here” 

He cared about your happiness?

You nearly scoffed at the thought but his voice was sincere, not a hint of malice found. You hadn’t noticed before but he had a handsome face; a beautifully carved jaw under his his dark beard, delicately sharp nose, soft pink lips and if you looked for a moment to long, you’d get lost in his eyes. 

Shaking the thought away you focused back to the matter at hand. It had to happen one way or another. You agreed to this for your kingdom, there was no point in having second thoughts now.

“They’ll be expecting us to...” Your voice trailed off, glancing off to the side at the large bed that was set in the middle of the spacious room, soft silken sheets and thick lush pillows neatly arranged by the castle maids. You knew how this worked. Love and affection didn’t matter, your marriage wouldn’t be considered legitimate until...

And if you didn’t-

One day you were living your life, preparing for the day you’d have the throne and now you were here.

To be seen in a way no one else ever had.

Touched in places no one dared lay their hands on.

You were now his property. 

You tried to push the anxiety that started to claw at your mind, making your way over to the bed and sitting up right as you were taught, waiting for the man you were now tied to, to consummate the marriage. Your breath hitched as you felt the bed dip down beside you from where the king sat, surprised to feel his warm hand gently lay on top of yours, giving you a comforting squeeze.

“Princess we don’t have t-

“I want to” you tried to sound confident but your voice wavered, your breath hitching again when he tilted your chin to look at him, your eyes struggling to hold his gaze. 

“This is my kingdom” he said with a firmness that was not directed at you but rather towards the distain he had for the rules that had put you in such a position in the first place, “I’d never force you to do anything, princess” The slight growl in his voice made your heart skip a beat; yet again, there was only sincerity in his words.

However, it was far more complicated for you.  

You didn’t want to fail the very duties that had been instilled in you from the day you were born, not wanting the sacrifice you made for your family to go to in vain if anyone dared question the fulfilment of your wedding night. 

“I want this” You looked directly at him with confidence but your eyes gave away your vulnerability.

“Then I’ll make it good for you, pretty one” He murmured, the pulse in your veins quickening when his hands came to cup your cheek as he moved you to lay down on his bed. He carefully tugged at the ribbons of your corset, freeing you from the constricting garment and tossing it aside before slipping off the rest of your dress. You felt exposed, lying bare against the cool sheets while he undressed himself; you couldn’t help but glance over at his toned body as he discarded his own clothes, corded muscles running under tan skin, scars from battle decorating his body  

The worst was the scarring along his left shoulder, angry jagged lines running from his neck to his shoulder blade, some of the scars extending to his chest and arm. There were divots in his skin from where the cuts ran deeper than others. 

 It made him beautiful.

You looked away as his pants fell around his ankles leaving him in his all naked glory, feeling hot under his gaze. You instinctively squeezed tightly together, arms draped across your naked chest to cover your modesty. Your eyes were trained on the tapestry that was hung across the room, biting your lip when you felt him crawl onto the bed, kneeling before you, his knees on either side of your legs, bare skin touching yours. 

“You’re allowed to look, princess” The king smirked at your flustered state, “I belong to you just as much” 

You swallowed thickly, flicking your eyes back to him, involuntarily gripping the sheets finally seeing all of him from his long dark hair falling in waves to his shoulders, his frame broad and solid. A shiver ran down your spin as you continued to trail your eyes further down to his thick length, veins running along the shaft, curved towards him. 

You were confused  as he moved to lay down beside you, having expected him to lie on top instead but he didn’t; instead he kept his eyes locked with yours, moving your arm to uncover your breasts. You held your breath as he laid them aside, your nipples peaking against the cool air, still waiting for him to shove your legs apart and take what he wanted. 

“You’re sure, princess?” He whispered, his face by yours, letting his warm hand rest on your tensed stomach, humming when you hesitantly nodded. 

You bit a gasp as his fingers trailed down your body, coaxing your thighs apart, softly caressing the sensitive flesh as you tried to squeeze your legs together. He let out a soft chuckle, moving your thighs apart again, your eyes growing wide when his fingers dipped into your folds, smearing the slick that started to pool between your legs.

“I- you shouldn’t-” You didn’t understand what he was doing, your mind reeling when he moved his fingers close to where you were more sensitive, making it harder for you to control the noises that wanted to slip through. 

“I should know every part of my wife” He trailed his fingers back up, watching you intently, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk when he brushed over your swollen bundle of nerves, a gasp escaping you when he pressed his fingers tips against it, “Her most sacred places” 

Your breaths quickened, your walls quivering with need, a feeling you had never experienced before, already melting into the pleasure he was giving you. 

“I made a promise to take care of you” he started to rub soft circles around your clit, humming and the moan you tried to bite back, your lip caught between your teeth. He pulled his hand away from your soaked cunt, his thumb still glistening with your arousal tugging down on your lip making you gasp. 

“You don’t ever have to silence yourself with me princess” His voice dropped an octave, jaw clenched, the meaning behind his words deeper than wanting to hear how pretty you sounded as he pleasured you. He caressed down your body till he found your clit again, rubbing you with such care, building a steady rhythm that had all your nerves lit on fire. A coiling pleasure wound tighter and tighter with each stroke of his fingertips. 

“You’re the softest thing I’ve ever touched” His hands had seen war, violence and bloodshed, scars and callouses evidence of his bravery and fierce loyalty to his kingdom. 

And now to you.

“Such softness deserves to be loved” he whispered, dipping his head down to your chest, taking your nipple between his lips, gently suckling while continuing to rub slow deliberate circles around your clit. “And worshipped” 

Your body moved on its own, your thighs spreading apart, giving him more access to you, your back arching off the bead, needy moans and whimpers filling the room as he switched to your other breast. 

“Ooh-it feels-mmphh-” You couldn’t formulate words, hands blindly gripping at the sheets, squirming as he rubbed faster, a fiery pleasure starting to crawl down your spine. You could feel his hard length press against your thigh, your fingers twitching to wrap around him and soothe the ache of his swollen cockhead, his pink tip wet and leaking. He noticed your gaze flick down before looking away, loving your sweet innocence. 

“You’re allowed to touch me, princess” He murmured against your cheek, taking your hand, trailing it between your bodies, moving it to wrap around his thick length. He moved your hand along his velvety shaft, his cock hard and throbbing against in your soft palm, “Every part of me is yours now too”  

You let out a whimper, hesitantly dragging your hand up and down, learning to build a rhythm he seemed to respond to, listening to the low grunts and groans he made when you twirled your hand around the tip before stroking all the way back down to the base. 

“Is-is this okay” Had he not been right beside you, he would have missed the whisper of your voice, a smile gracing is lips as you awaited his answer. 

“Of course, princess” James rubbed tighter circles around you, determined to get you make you shatter in pleasure before taking you apart all for himself, wanting every intimate moment you spent with him pure bliss for you. You signed your life to him; he was going to cherish that in every way possible.  

“oh-please-p-please!” Your eyes rolled back, your clit swelling as warmth began to spread throughout your body, the coil ready to snap, just a bit more- “Please-” You didn’t even know what you were begging for, your body chasing the building pressure that was holding you right over the edge. You found yourself tugging and stroking him faster, coaxing him to move closer, guiding him to where you needed him most, your cunt clenching, making a mess all over the sheets. His hips rutted in your hand as he slotted himself between your legs, keeping his body weight off you, propped on one arm as he lay above you. 

“Please?” Your eyes were glassy, skin hot, a concoction of nervousness, excitement, lust and desire coursing through you as you moved your hands to grip onto his thick shoulders. 

“Are you sure you’re ready?” His hand softly petted your hair, eyes swimming with concern, the blunt tip of his cock throbbing against your leaking cunt.

“Take me” you whispered, feeling your heart rate quicken when he reached down between your bodies to line himself up, pressing against your entrance. You whimpered, letting your nails dig into his skin at the burn, feeling his the tip of his cock push into you, stretching your tight cunt apart. 

“Shhhhh” He cooed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he pushed in further, trailing kisses down your nose to your lips, your grip nearly breaking the skin on his back. “I won’t hurt you princess”  

You could feel his back muscles tense, focused on filling you slowly, finally joining together in a way that made you husband and wife.

“J-James” You didn’t even consider that you’d called him by his named instead of title, too lost in the feeling of him claiming you, hot pain and pleasure radiating through your body at the foreign sensation. 

“I know, I know” he nodded against your neck, his cock splitting you open further, wider at the base. “Breathe, breathe, I have you” He could feel your pussy flutter and squeeze his length, trying to accommodate for his girth. He pulled away from your neck to brush the hairs that clung to your forehead, his thumb gently smoothing the crease between your brows. 

“Look at me princess” he whispered against your lips as your cracked your eyes open, the sting slowly melting when you got lost under his blue gaze. He kissed your temple, lips pressed against your skin, your own nails clawing into his back as he fully sheathed himself inside you. 

“May I?” He asked, giving you time to adjust to the feeling, only beginning to slowly rock his hips when you nodded, your legs moving to wrap around his waist, thighs squeezing his tapered waist. 

“Feels-good” You let out a breathy moan, your legs trembling as he barely pulled out, pressing his cock in as deep as it would go, pushing you into the mattress. You clung around his body as he let his weight drop on you, keeping you covered under him while moving faster, his hand coming to lace with yours. 

“So good to me” He rasped, squeezing your hands in his, moaning when he felt your pussy pull him right back in every time he pulled away. It was like you were made for him, every curve and dip of your body molded perfectly with his, your tight wet heat swallowing him entirely, taking every inch he was willing to give you. “You’re mine now”

“No one’s ever going to hurt you princess” His eyes hardened making your cheeks heat up under his protective gaze, dark hair falling around you in a curtain of intimacy. Your family may have married you off to bring peace to the land but he was not going to use that to his advantage to use you. He would take care of you and treat you like the queen you were, protecting his newest most prized treasure.  You mewled against his lips, a stray tear slipping past your eyes, his lips kissing them away, a stark contrast to the way his cock was hitting deeper in your cunt, kissing your cervix as he fucked into you. 

“I promise” he kissed your wrist, before pinning it against the mattress beside your head, thrusting faster, your moans loud enough to let the next kingdom over know you were at your husbands complete mercy in the most intimate and primal way possible.  

“James-James-please-I” Your chest was pressed against his, eyes pleading for your release. He groaned, angling his hips to rub sensitive spot deep inside you making you see stars, spots starting to cloud your vision, the band ready to snap again. He panted, working his hips faster, rolling them, coaxing you further and further to the edge. He could feel his own orgasm ready to burst, gritting his teeth, determined to take care of yourself before giving into his own. 

“Let go my princess, let go for me, I have you” 

“JAMESS” 

He held you tightly as you fell apart on his cock, moaning at the sting of your nails dragging down his body. Your cunt milked and squeezed him, desperate for him to give you everything drop he had. He wrapped his arms around your body, tucking his face against your neck, sinking his teeth into your soft flesh, unable to hold back when he felt your hands card through his hair, softly grazing his scalp before giving it a gentle tug. 

“Let-let go for me” You whispered softly in his ear, wanting him to know you accepted him just as much as he accepted you, needing him to understand you saw him as your husband, not just your king. “My James” 

“My princess” He groaned against your skin, pushing himself as deep as your body would allow, hot spurts of his seed filling you till it dripped onto the sheets. He continued to softly rut into you, riding through both your highs until he was spent, his cock beginning to soften inside you. 

“I have you, I have you angel” He whispered, rubbing up and down your back, his nose buried in your hair, kissing down the column of your neck to your shoulders. “Do you feel alright” 

You whimpered at the loss of him as he pulled out, a dull soreness beginning to settle between your legs. Your eyes grew wide at the dots of red that stained the sheets, pouting when you felt a loss of warmth as your husband sat up. 

“Lie down angel” He cooed, moving you to lay on his side of the bed and tucking you under the plush sheet before swinging his long legs to the edge of the bed. You reached out for him, your fingers softly grasping at his wrist, wanting to feel him hold you when you felt so vulnerable. 

“But-”

“I’m going to take care of your princess. I told you, you’re mine now. Mine to care for” He made his way over to the water that was set aside in the room, dipping a clean cloth to dampen it before making his way back over to you. He carefully wiped you down, between sweet words of how he’d forever put you first, a vow he made when he agreed to marry you. He wiped away the tears that spilled down your cheeks before getting up again to toss away the cloth. 

He caught a glance of himself in the mirror, his skin now decorated with new marks left by you, a proud smirk gracing his lips, happy to add a scar, this battle being his favorite one of all. 

The one to your heart. 

One he’d have to earn with patience and love, this night being the first of many. 

“The sheets-” You blinked up at him as he slipped between the covers, pulling you to his chest, cocooning you in his warmth. 

“Will be for my eyes only” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, deciding he’d only allow your ladies in waiting to ever enter the chambers, ones that were loyal to you and that you trusted. “You’ll be safe with me” 

You relaxed in his hold, closing your eyes and falling asleep to the steady beat of his heart, the anxieties that clawed at your chest disappearing into the night, your heart melting for the man you now were honored to call yours. 

The king.

Your James. 

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[testingthewatersss]

Withdraw Trigger warnings for implied non con drugs, PTSD, mentions of war, torture, withdrawals etc. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 2 5260 words Angst, More angst, comfort.  18+ MDNI Bucky has been feeling sick for weeks, by the time he starts to look it Steve’s patience has run out and he forces him into the labs. Luckily figuring out the problem is much faster than getting him to acknowledge it. Unluckily, there isn’t much anyone can do about it

6 hours is more than awhile.

It’s miraculous.

It’s so miraculous that even though Y/N thinks this must be the calm before the storm, she can’t stop herself from drifting off, too.

She doesn’t move, she keeps her arms around his body, but, her eyes flutter shut and before she knows what’s happening, she’s unconscious too.

For Bucky, pain is familiar. It’s a constant that he can hold on to no matter what else is happening.

Especially when he’s the solider. The Solider only has pain, his entire universe is agony, aside from one, thing that he thinks might be a person, even if it would make more sense for it to just be a dream; but still- This new feeling is awful.

It’s hot, and, it’s… it’s red.

He uses colours, sometimes, because he can’t use words. Not when he’s masked and muzzled- Not when he doesn’t have permission to speak. No. No, words aren’t for him. Colours, though… Colours he can use.

Y/N, Y/N is blue. Blue is his favourite. It’s always been his favourite, so- so that’s what she is. Sometimes she’s a pale, blue, calm and gentle like the sky, and sometimes, when he’s done something right, then, then she’s deeper, like the ocean. There’s nothing the solider likes more than her.

So, she’s blue— and this, this pain he’s in is red. It’s bright, glaring, angry red—

He knows he shouldn’t move, that moving makes it worse, that it gives them a reason to hurt him more, but he can’t help it. It’s burning, it’s, it’s so hot—

His hips are shifting. They’re rocking back and forth and it’s only getting worse.

Punish me, he thinks desperately, Punish me, so that I can stop—

Punishments are white. Blinding white, and then red— Red when it hurts, but… but then it’s always back to white.

Blank slate. Order. Obedience. All of it is from pain, all of it is from them and he— he needs it, but-

Oh, god— nobodies coming— nobodies coming to make it stop and he can’t do it by himself.

He’s panicked now.

He’s panting and whining, and his whole body is tensing-

The sound Bucky makes is primal.

It wakes Y/N instantly. It sends a bolt of panic straight through her chest that makes her arms tighten around his shoulder protectively.

He is thrashing in place, trying to escape some imagined restraint, and even though the cry he’d let out is done, she can’t help but hush him, slipping her hands round to his cheeks so that she can guide his face up, up to where she can see, and—

Oh.

She can feel it. His skin is too hot, even for him.

A super-solider fever would usually intrigue her, under almost any other circumstances she'd be asking him questions already, but considering the fact that he's still struggling to breath, she decides to do the maths herself.

A fever is just an immune response, you need a fever to fight things off- no-

You need a fever to keep things balanced. Bodies need homeostasis, they need balance and right now, everything from his hormones to his pain receptors and inflammatory markers are five-hundred shades of wrong.

No wonder his cheeks are so red.

The serum helps, but it helps by boosting his immune system, and that means boosted fevers, too.

Y/N feels her attention snap back to Bucky as he wretches, unlocking his jaw as he gags into the sheets on his lap.

Sweat his beading by his temples, he looks muddled, but only for a second, and then, she reaches down, using the blanket to wipe his chin clean, and that's when she realises he looks horrified.

“It’s okay”

His head is shaking before she even gets the words out.

She can feel his entire body flooding with adrenaline. She can feel the way his chest is racing.

This is not okay at all.

Red. Everything is Red.

“Red” he pants, “Red”

Y/N nods. She knows what’s going on. That’s been their safe-word for as long as he’s been able to understand the concept of consent. From the moment The Solider had been aware enough to speak to her, to trust her as a friend.

“Bucky… Sweetheart” she murmurs, trying to coax his gaze back to her, “It’s okay, it’s alright-”

“I… I'm sorry” he chokes, “-I-It- god, it- it hurts...”

It’s too much. He’s shaking— his entire body still feels like it’s on fire and all he knows for sure is that he's thrown up in front of her, again.

He ruined everything, he woke up screaming, and he's made a mess of the bed, and she had to see it all because he isn't brave enough to be on his own—

Y/N is in front of him now, letting him clutch her against his chest in a way that is clearly involuntary. She's grateful that whatever instinct that is driving him to keep her so close also remembered to have him not crush her in the process.

She has wiggle room, more than enough to breathe. Just about enough for her to be able to pull back and look at his face.

His eyes are manic. They’re searching the dark room over Y/N’s shoulder.

It’s night time now, but that doesn’t matter. He doesn't want to close his eyes again. He doesn't want to see anymore red.

He's making his peace with the shadows until, the shadows start to move.

He sees them morphing into figures. Black, looming silhouettes creeping in towards him.

And he’s sorry, he’s so, so sorry-

but he can’t speak. He’s screaming. He’s crying, and begging all at once but no words are coming out it’s just a noise.

It’s a terrible noise and he’s about to be dragged away from the woman he loves, to be tortured in ways he can barely comprehend and they’re coming and he can’t fight them off, because he’s broken and sick and—

Y/N is almost crying herself.

Bucky is way past weeping. It’s tragic, and unfair, and he can’t control it, and still, she thinks he’s only getting more and more worked up—

She wonders absentmindedly if he knows what he’s doing. If there is any part of him lucid enough to understand what's happening around him. The breaks in hysteria seem so random, and not nearly long enough.

“Love” she whispers, desperate to sooth him, “Love, it’s okay… you're safe, it’s just me here it’s all okay.”

Bucky doesn’t seem to hear her. His eyes are screwed shut. He’s hyperventalating, crying and retching against her throat.

His hands are holding onto her so tightly she knows she’s going to have bruises by morning, and she doesn’t care one bit. There isn’t anything in the world that would make her prise him away from her front.

Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red.

He’d do anything to make this stop. He can feel his body aching.

god, it— it hurts, and they’re— they’re coming— He’d seen them. But… why… Why aren’t they here, yet? They’d seemed so close.

He’d seen them.

“Shhhhh” Y/N’s soft voice purrs, “Shhhh now, baby— it’s okay.”

That’s not them. That's not an officer, or a shadow.

That’s, her. That’s Y/N, and… is… is she holding him?

It feels like she is. It… It feels like her.

Blue.

The colour overwhelms him for a minute, even though his eyes are closed.

A glaze of calm, sky blue coats him for a second. For just long enough for him to catch his breath.

“Good job” she says next, “Good job, Buck, can you do that again?”

Do what? he thinks, All I did was breathe.

He’d do anything for her, so he figures it’s worth a shot.

As his lungs expand, he feels her hands on his back, stroking a gentle circle across his ribs.

“Well done” she says, “Sweetheart”

The praise in her tone tugs at something nice, deep, deep down inside his chest.

He splutters out a cough on the next inhale and realises that all he wants is to see her- That he wouldn’t care about a hundred people coming to teach him a lesson as long as her face was the last thing he gets to see before they take him away.

If you want anything… anything at all, you just tell me, okay?

The ghost of her voice pricks at his mind. The gentle reminder urging him to speak, despite every fibre of his aching body begging him to stay quiet, to stay silent so that he might avoid some kind of correction—

“P-please I… I-I want to see y-you… p-please”

“Okay” Y/N says, like his fractured request hasn’t just broken her heart, “Okay, I’m right here, just— that’s it”

One of her hands is on his cheek, cupping the tear stained skin so that he can shift his face up to look at her, when his blood-shot eyes flicker open.

She greets him with a smile so lovely he thinks he might have died.

That he was right, all along and that he’s died and gone to…

Well, he didn’t think heaven would hurt this much, but if she’s there with him then it can’t be anywhere else—

“What’re you thinking?” she presses, thumb stroking his temple, “huh? what’s goin’ on in there?”

“Th-that I… I didn’t think heaven w-would let me in, doll, but— but if you’re here too t-then it c-can’t be hell”

She laughs at that. Soft and tempered.

“You’re not dead, Barnes” she says, with a half-hearted roll of her eyes, “You’re sick, and tired, but I told you before, you’re going to be just fine in a couple of days.”

He thinks that sounds right. He just about remembers.

Every inch of his body is sore.

He tries to scan through everything, in search of injuries, from his head, and his jumbled thoughts down, past the burning agony of his scar, and his straining ribs and cramping stomach until he remembers the soreness of his throat, and the echo of wetness on the covers between them.

It makes his urge to puke again nearly unbearable.

Y/N sees the way his cheeks are suddenly turning bright red, and pieces that together with the mortified expression he’s now sporting—

“I’m so sorry” he whispers, teeth starting to chatter together as the tremors in his muscles get more and more intense, “-fu-fuck I’m sorry”

And then, her lips are against his.

She’s kissing him, and he can’t breathe because he’d really thought she was going to hate him. To think he was disgusting, because he is. He is and he can’t help it, but she’s kissing him and he loves her and he tells her all the time but it doesn’t seem like enough and—

“It’s not your fault” she whispers, “baby boy, it’s all okay, I promise— but we should clean up, okay? We should get another shower.”

I can’t walk, he thinks, defeated- I can’t move… not yet.

“P-please” he whispers, averting his gaze, “Please d-don’t m-make me move, not… not yet, I— I can’t and I- I don’t want to fall…”

Y/N shakes her head, pressing her lips to brow.

“Would I ever let ya’ fall, Buck?”

He’s so humiliated that all he can do is sob as he forces himself to shake his head.

No, he thinks, No, you wouldn’t.

“No” she confirms softly, holding him close, “But we’ll wait anyway, yeah? you just keep breathing for me, love… you keep breathing and then, when you’re feelin’ a little more steady we’ll get you into the shower…”

An idea strikes her suddenly;

“Or” she says, “How about we take a bath?”

That seems to spark his interest. His brow furrows in consideration, and a cry catches in his throat.

He swallows it, trying earnestly to push back against the hollow ache of shame that’s trying to crush his chest.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Y/N knows that he would, it’s written all over his face, “Me and you, sweetheart— We’ll clean up, it’s not a big deal”

“I… I m-made a mess…” he whispers shakily.

She thinks he sounds like a child.

Like a terrified little boy, who doesn’t want to get into trouble—

“It’s not your fault” she swears, stroking his cheek again, “You're burnin' up with a fever, comin' down from a cocktail of drugs that you didn't mean to take in the first place, you couldn’t help it”

Nervously, he looks back at her face. His eyes are so, so terrified, that she can barely take it.

“I love you” she murmurs, “It’s okay— I promise.”

Bucky believes her. For whatever reason, in that moment, he really believes that she loves him anyway, that she’s not angry with him, even though he thinks she should be, and he’s so overwhelmingly grateful that he breaks down crying all over again.

“I l-love you too” he stammers, burying his face in her chest, “I’m sorry— I- I really-am I— I- I couldn’t—I- I saw, I- I know it’s crazy but I— I saw someone…”

“Shhhhhh” she exhales, running her hand through his hair, “It’s not crazy, you’re going to see things, remember? it’s all part of the process”

He clings to her tighter, realising that if she’s right, that that means he’s going to keep being tortured by things that only he can see coming, that it’s only going to get worse—

“But” Y/N cuts in, feeling him tensing, “you can see me, too, right?”

He can, so he nods, trying to slow his cries;

“And would I let anybody take you away, or do anything to hurt you?”

No.

No.

His head shakes. He sniffs bravely and nuzzles into the skin of her neck as he thinks about how lucky he is to have her in his life.

To still have her in his life, after everything he’s done.

“No” she agrees, “So you’ve got nothing to worry about, sweetheart”

“I… I c-can’t d-do this” he stammers lamely, “I- I can’t, t-there isn’t enough l-left of me to break this time”

Y/N just shakes her head, pressing a kiss against his brow.

“You’re going to be alright” she promises, “We’ll go one step at a time okay? for right now, we need to get cleaned up, love… So, we need to get to the bathroom. We can do that, can’t we?”

Can I walk? he thinks, flexing his legs-

It hurts, but, he’s good at pain.

“I… I can walk” he says, aiming for confident, “If I- If I f-fall I’ll… I’ll get back up”

The waver in his voice is heart wrenching.

Y/N brings her fingers down to his cheeks, wiping them clean-

“I’m not going to let you fall” she tells him again, “I promise”

He clings to her hand as she prises him away from her front, helping him stand on unstable legs.

She just presses a kiss against his shoulder, and loops an arm around his waist, helping him half stumble towards the bathroom.

It’s agony, but he manages; With her help, he makes it all the way too the toilet, where he finally collapses, sitting on the closed, plastic lid with a relieved whimper.

“There” she purrs, stroking his hair back, “You've got a fever so I can't make it too warm” Y/N soothes, "But to be honest, I don't think it'll make much of a difference once we're both in there..."

His eyes roll up at her, wet and embarrassed. She smiles, letting him press his whole cheek into her hand as she lowers it away from his brow.

“I’m going to start the water now, alright?”

It takes him a second to process her words, but when he does, he nods, shaking lamely as he watches her leave him, to head towards the tub.

The sound of the water splashing against the porcelain is nice.

He thinks it’s soothing, like white noise.

Y/N shoots him a look, and is somewhat satisfied when she sees him shivering where she’d left him.

She takes the opportunity to slip into the bedroom, to strip the dirty sheets and throw them into a far off pile in the corner and grab them both a fresh set of clothes.

When she re-enters the bathroom, he’s waiting, wide-eyes watching the doorway anxiously.

“I’m right here” she swears, discarding the bundle of fabric she’s brought on the marble countertop, “Just bringin’ some supplies”

He half nods. Teeth chattering.

The bath is steaming. She grabs a bottle from one of the shelves and pours a generous amount under the running faucet.

It smells nice.

Bucky can’t quite place exactly what it smells like, but he likes it all the same.

And then, she’s back, between his legs, letting him hide his face against her stomach.

It’s bare now. She’s naked, and he doesn’t remember her getting undressed and that scares him and everything— everything is way too much, again.

He’s crying into her skin. Sobbing, desperate, gasping sobs, as he fusses with hands in his lap.

Y/N’s hands are stroking his back, rubbing soft, calming circles across the straining outline of his ribs.

“C’mon, baby” she whispers, helping him look up at her, “Let’s get in”

It’s ready now. The tub is full—there’s thick layer of bubbles floating across the surface of the water and all he wants is to follow her into it.

So that’s what he does. Once she’s undressed him, he shuffles along behind her, almost slipping as he clambers over the side, and settles under the blanket of sweet smelling foam.

She’s behind him, he’s settled between her legs, leaning back against her front and letting out precious little noises that seem more like whimpers than out-right cries.

That’s a win, she thinks, I’ll take that.

It's luke warm at best, but he's so warm that her theory about it not mattering much is quickly proven.

“Good job” Bucky hears her praise, “Good job, baby— you’re doin’ so well”

He sags back into her, giving up completely. Letting himself retreat inwards, so that he might stand a chance at making through this whole thing in one piece.

She watches him blinking up at her from behind damp lashes, looking awfully muddled, and brings her hand round to his naval, so that they can tangle their fingers together.

He jumps at the chance, squeezing both of her palms in his, before finally letting his eyes flutter shut.

He’s exhausted, and the water is cool, but for some reason, he’s not shivering like he was before and even though his body is still painful, it's much easier to ignore, even if it is a lot to process at once.

He’s breathing, he can feel Y/N behind him, he can feel her hands in his.

It’s a lot, but because of her it’s bearable.

He hears himself making a noise that sounds like it’s coming from very far away. He’s only sure that he’s the source of it, because of how she hushes him, pressing a kiss against the back of his head, and boxing him in with her thighs.

He’d have stifled it, if he’d had a choice, but that kind of self-control is long gone now.

Y/N’s efforts at quieting him seem to work though; the sound fades off, and leaves Bucky only the ringing in his ears as a distraction.

And after a few minutes, even that is vague.

Everything is… off. It’s hazy, and he feels like he’s floating, and grounded all at once.

Time isn’t right. It’s not linear, or rhythmic anymore.

He snaps back to himself when he feels things.

A sharp bolt of pain in his arm— A soft brush of fingers across his brow— The coolness of the water rolling up, over a part of his chest that had been dry, before.

The spaces between are abstract. They’re the chattering of his teeth, and the waves of sickness that he’s no longer trying to swallow down.

They’re the gentle kisses Y/N is pressing against the top of his head. They’re the words of endearment that she’s whispering against the slick skin of his uninjured shoulder.

He’s crying. He doesn’t know why, or when he started. It doesn’t matter, really. It’s not like he can change it, anyway.

His hair is soaked, it’s warm and heavy, and he’s… he’s gagging and spluttering— His chest is hammering, he’s— he’s spinning and falling and terrified—

“…You’re okay, baby… I’ve got you, you’re alright…”

The feeling of panic retreats at her voice.

He needs to keep her close. He’s so scared of being alone-

His fingers are furled. Fists tight.

He feels something. A soft, light brush of a thumb across his flesh knuckles.

Instantly, he lets go— Both of his hands releasing their grip because just like that he knows… He knows who he’s with. Who’s holding his hand, who’s hand he’s squeezing that hard.

He retches again.

He sobs, and splutters and shakes his head as hot, blazing cramps roll up across his core.

He’s sorry. He’s so sorry.

Can feel bones breaking between his fingers. He can almost hear the crack—

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Bucky is back to hyperventilating.

Eyes screwed shut, red faced and choking on desperate, spluttering sobs.

Y/N’s heart is aching as she tries to piece together anything that might have lead to this seemingly reaction.

“Bucky” she whispers, bringing her thighs up to further box him in, “Everything’s alright”

He’s holding his own chest. Both arms wrapped around himself, in a primal attempt at self-comfort.

There’s a string of bile draped from his lips, across his chin.

He’s crying. He’s crying like he’s never going to stop.

“Shhhhhh” she exhales, “I’ve got you, I’m here-”

Suddenly- His eyes are wide.

It’s horrible. The sheer, frantic, pain-driven terror, behind them is horrible.

“My love” she purrs, “I’m here, I’m right here”

She brings her fingers up, cleaning his face with warm water.

Her touch seems to confuse him. His gaze is muddled, lips slightly parted.

“I-I’m sorry” he whispers, “I-I-I-I d-di-didn’t mean too-”

The chattering of his jaw stifles his words. He’s hurting. He’s visibly hurting so much that Y/N can’t help but shift to hold him tighter.

“I’ve got you” she tells him, “You’re safe, sweetheart— You’re so safe”

“Y-you” he stammers, desperate to know, to know if he’s harmed her by accident, “a-a-are y-you?”

“Am I?” Y/N deciphers, “Am I what, Buck?”

“S-sa-safe?”

Oh, god.

Her heart shatters. It breaks into a thousand pieces and stings behind her ribs.

“Am I safe?” she checks, “Baby boy, is that what you’re asking?”

She can barely believe it. It’s only because she knows him, that she can even begin to comprehend the fact that even in his current condition, that he’d be worrying about her.

He nods looking at her with the same piercing gaze as before.

“I’m safe” she swears, “I’m so, so safe.”

“I-I th-thought I-” he sobs, relief making him almost dizzy, “I- I th-thought I’d h-hurt you”

Tears sting behind Y/N’s eyes as she shakes her head.

“No, baby” she promises, “No, you could never, you could never hurt me.”

His chest rattles loosely, he sniffs and whimpers and cries even louder as he tries to make himself believe her.

“Sweetheart” she coos, “I promise you, I’m fine”

“I- I-I’m s-sorry I— I- m-my hands I— I, I can’t do this… I- I can’t, I— I’m too scared—”

“Hush now” Y/N soothes, trying to settle her own pulse, “Can you look at me?”

Can he?

He has no idea if opening his eyes is something he’s capable of anymore, but he wants to try.

So he does.

Everything is blurry, and it stings, but… Y/N is there, she’s real, and calm, and unharmed.

That settles him for just long enough for him to catch his breath.

There’s a horrible wheezing sound in the air. As a gentle thumb brushes across the damp, hot skin of his cheek, Bucky realises that it’s coming from him.

As it waivers, before cracking off to nothing, he realises that it’s his lame attempt at breathing.

“You’re alright” Y/N says, letting water trickle from her fingers, across his jaw, “Just relax for me”

He loves her. He loves her so much.

His lip quivers, pouting and chapped, and then, everything slips again.

She watches his eyes flutter shut as another bout of sobs rip up from his chest.

It’s horrible. He’s shivering, and heaving and clinging onto his own chest so hard she can see bruises forming, even though there’s a layer of foam on top of the water clouding her view.

“C’mere-”

She takes his hands in hers, prising them away from his ribs and helping him tangle their fingers together instead.

He can feel that. He can feel her palm against his flesh one, and the gentle strumming of her pulse through the sensors of his metal one.

It’s stable. It’s constant and everything is gone, again.

There’s a sharp jab of pain in his shoulder that makes him wince. There’s a tug of sickness in his throat that makes him lunge forwards a fraction, and then, there’s the sound of Y/N telling him he’s okay to let go, as he vomits down into the water.

He hears the splash, and feels the shame curdling in his veins, but, then a wave of… blackness over takes him again, and he finds himself collapsing back into her front.

“Bucky” Y/N whispers, pressing her lips against the top of his head, “Shall we go back to bed?”

It takes awhile for him to hear her, and even longer for him to realise that she’s asking him a question.

By that point she’s already drained the now cold water from the tub, and has started to try and manoeuvre herself out from under him, so that she can grab towels for them to share.

“B-b-bed?” he repeats, teeth chattering loudly, “I…I-I…”

“Come on baby, stand up for me, nice and slow”

It’s like he’s floating, but not in a nice, weightless kind of way.

It’s agony, it burns, and he’s terrified but before he can fall, there’s a gentle arm around his waist, helping him, even though he doesn’t understand how.

“I’ve got you” Y/N promises, steadying herself as she half carries him back towards the bed, “Good job, Buck… Just a little bit further.”

He collapses the moment she withdraws her support.

A scream erupts from his chest- It’s primal and loud and terrified.

He’s falling, he knows he’s falling- and he’s reaching out for something- anything but, he- he’s going to fall anyway—

He’s on the bed. Y/N wraps a blanket around his naked body, deciding that any attempt at dressing him would be almost cruel.

“I- I d-don’t— I- d-don’t w-want t-o fall” he sobs, muffling his own fractured voice with his palms, “I- I’m- I- I’m f-falling”

“Oh, baby” she soothes, slipping in beside him again, “Oh, baby, no, no you’re not falling”

Her palm is on his brow, his entire body is convulsing—

Panic flares, and his eyes snap open, wide and confused.

They land on her, on her gentle smile, and then he only looks more muddled.

“We took a bath” she murmurs, brushing his damp hair back slowly, “We cleaned you up, and got dry… and now, now you’re back in bed, tucked up with me…”

“I… I- I’m n-not stable” he tells her, voice barely audible, “I- I sh-should b-be wiped”

Y/N thinks that that is probably the saddest thing he could’ve said.

It’s obviously something he’s picked up from somewhere else. It’s not anything she’s heard him say before. She wonders briefly if he’s hallucinating again, if he doesn’t know where he is—

but no.

He’s looking directly at her now. Full blue eyes waiting earnestly for her to tell him that he’s right. That he needs to be dragged away and electrocuted within an inch of his life.

When she shakes her head, he blinks, and submissively drops his gaze to the sheets.

“S-s-sorry” he makes himself stammer, desperate to let her know that he only wants to help, “I— I- t-thought-”

“It’s alright” she promises, “You just need to breathe…keep breathing and get some rest for me… that’s all”

“For you?” he echos, almost dreamily, “Br-breathe?…f-for you?”

“Mhmm” she confirms, “that’s right, love, and then, rest”

He likes that. He’d do anything for her and there are worse things in the world than breathing.

and as for the resting, He doesn't think he knows how to do that, right now, but he’s about to try, he’s about to do anything that he remembers being vaguely linked to resting, when a sharp bolt of pain shoots up to his shoulder.

It hurts, and he can’t help but whimper, flesh hand reaching over to curl protectively over his scar.

He wants help.

He looks for Y/N again, because he trusts her, and he loves her and he’s in pain, and—

“Oh, baby” she murmurs, seeing the way he’s starring at her, “baby boy, I know-”

“It hurts” he whispers, “It… it… it really hurts, Doll”

She doesn’t think he’s ever sounded so young.

“I know” she replies, leaning in to kiss his brow, “I know it does, I’m sorry... It should get a little better when you've gotten some more sleep...”

“I can’t… I- I can’t fight, I can't protect you-I”

He can’t protect himself. He knows he can’t. That realisation is almost as bad as the pain. The pain that for once he knows he can't just push through.

“No” Y/N agrees softly, “I know, it's okay”

“I’m sorry” he whispers, defeated.

He’s not an asset anymore. He’s barely a man.

“Sweetheart” she coos, stroking his cheek, “you have nothing to be sorry for… You don’t have to fight, you don’t have to do anything right now...”

“Will…” he sniffs, “…W-will you stay here wi-with me… so- so that you can keep me safe?”

“Of course I will” she promises, “I’m staying right here, with you”

He focuses on that at he tries to breath through the pain in his arm. The sharpness of before is fading to an angry ache now, if he tries, he can convince himself that it's merging with the cramping of his muscles. He can definitely breath through that, he's been doing it for hours already.

"You want some water?" she offers softly, flattening her palm across his brow again, "You feel a little cooler for right now, so I'm not gonna push it..."

"No" he whispers, voice still weak, "I- I won't keep it down"

Y/N beams at him, nodding in understanding as she settles down with him, stroking his hair back as it starts to dry.

"You're doin' so well, Buck..." she praises, watching as his damp lashes flutter, "If your pain gets any worse I'll press Tony for something to take the edge off..."

"It..." he gulps, focusing on her face tiredly, "It'll stop, r-right?"

"The pain?" she asks, stroking his arm affectionately as she nods, "Yeah, baby... it might take a while to go away completely, but it'll stop."

"Promise?"

I can take it, he thinks nervously, if she promises me it's not forever, if she stays with me, I- I think I can take it...

"I promise, handsome" Y/N sighs, enjoying the moment of calm, "I know it's a lot, but we're gonna ride it out"

"Together" he murmurs, letting his body at least try and relax into the bed.

"Yeah, Buck. Together."

All parts Masterlist

[abbatoirablaze]

Deal With The Devil, Chapter 12

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings:  angst, gun violence.

“James…”

Bucky looked at the woman he loved; the almost sheer sheet lazily wrapped around her lower half.  His hand stopped it’s circular motions as his eyes met her open ones.  He hummed, “yes?”

“How long have you been doing that?”

“Few hours, maybe?” he shrugged as the smile on his lips grew, “do you have a problem with that, doll?”

“No.  Not at all,” she replied softly as a yawn rolled off her lips.  She reached down and put her hand over his, “it’s a nice way to wake up, honestly.”

“Yeah…too bad today’s our last day here.”

“The days feel like they’ve all just melted together,” you giggled, “I can hardly tell that we’ve been here for as long as we have!”

“I almost don’t want to leave!” he chuckled sweetly, before his eyes went towards the open air just outside of their beach bungalow, “us waking up on the beach to a salty, light breeze.  And I know that it calms your morning sickness…”

“It does…”

“You think the baby is a little Grecian god?” he teased, “think they’d want to stay too?”

“I think he does.”

He smiled again as his thumb grazed over her navel, “you really think we’re having a boy?”

“I can feel it in me, James…it’s a boy…he’ll be a sweet little boy with his fathers’ icy gaze and pouty lips.”

He chuckled, “I’m not pouty.”

“You are too!” she giggled, shaking her head at him, “how many times have you gotten pouty on our little vacation from the rest of the world?”

“Well, that’s only when you can’t take any more of those wondrous, leg-shaking orgasms that I give you!” he teased; all the while, his hand working his way down to her naked, already wet core.  His grin only grew, “you may not think you can handle it, but god, I know you can.  You want me between your legs all the time.  And I’d happily oblige if it weren’t for you begging me to stop after you’ve lost count.”

“You’re incorrigible!” she gasped, lightly slapping his hand away as she sat up, “James!”

“Come on!” he teased, “this is our last full day here on the beach, before we have to go back!”

She moaned as his body joined hers, one hand reaching up to cup one of her breasts, massaging the firm flesh, while the other wrapped around her waist to support her.

“James!”

“Let me love you, Inez,” he begged softly, his lips working down the column of her throat and towards her chest.  His mouth latched onto one of her nipples, his tongue flicking over the hardening nub while the hand that was working on her breast mimicked the actions with his nimble fingers, “let me make you feel good, doll!”

“Don’t leave me, James!” she begged in response, her need and anxiety slipping through her confident mask, “I need you.”

“Always stay with you,” he promised as he released her nipple with a pop and moved to her other breast, to show the other the same attention, “always love you.  Love our future children.”

“James!” she whimpered when she felt him slide her onto his own lap without missing a beat.  She grinded down on his hard cock; the wetness of her own core mixing with the precum dripping from the tip of his cock, “James, take me!”

“Never going to let you go!”

“What the hell do you mean, you haven’t seen your husband since your wedding?” Tony growled, glaring at his younger sister and the man holding her hand.  His jaw clenched as he looked at Bucky, “Why the hell are you holding Inez’ hand, Barnes.”

“Tony,” Pepper sighed, putting her hand on her husbands’ shoulder.  Tony gave her a look over his shoulder before giving a heavy sigh himself, “Tony…be open.  Your sister is coming to you for a reason.”

“We wanted to be up front with you two because this is important,” Bucky said firmly, before removing his hand from Inez’ only to wrap it around her waist, “Steve cheated on Inez during his bachelor party…and long story short, he has been encouraging Inez and myself to sleep with one another since then as his own little way of making it up.  And I’m in love with her.”

“And I love James!” she said just as quickly, jumping into the conversation.

“So that’s what this is?” he scoffed, “you’re letting me know that you’re married to Rogers, but screwing Barnes on the side?”

“Well, it’s not just that,” she said nervously as she bit her lip, “James and I…we-we’re pregnant.”

The young couple watched as Tony visibly tensed. 

Pepper gasped.

Tony’s tongue ran over his teeth, and he sucked his teeth in, “does Rogers know this?”

“Steve has been missing since the wedding, Tony!” Bucky pointed out, “Inez and I just found out yesterday, and we had a conversation that we needed to talk to you about it.”

“Why me?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Inez looked away from her older brother guiltily. 

Tony scoffed, “Oh, I see why.  Because you’re married to Rogers…and most men would see it as you are his property.  You running off with his third puts a target on you, Barnes, and even him.  You want me to play big, bad brother who takes control and puts out the fires.”

“Tony-“

He rolled his eyes at his sister, “Inez.”

“You owe me, Stark!” Bucky said after a moment.

Tony’s attention snapped to him, and he clearly seemed amused, “I.  owe.  You?  And what exactly is it do you think that I owe to you?  Your territory?  If you’re looking for that sort of power, you might want to talk to Thor, pal.”

“The only reason I’m alive and married to you…” Pepper said quickly, realizing where Bucky was going with it, “the only reason Morgan exists…he saved me, Tony!”

“And I gave him his arm!” Tony growled, “I worked with Rogers to make sure that his mother and sisters were safe!  We’re even!  More than that, he knocked up my baby sister.  If anything, he owes me.  He owes, Rogers!”

“Tony, I came to you because you’re the only one I can trust!” Inez whimpered, looking to her brother, “Tony…please.  I waited for Steve.  We waited for him to-“

Tony’s brow cocked for a moment, and he held his hand up at his sister, signaling for her to stop speaking, “is Steve…was this…some sort of love triangle between the three of you?”

“Steve’s not part of the picture any longer, Tony!”

“I didn’t ask you, Barnes.”

“I need help filing for an annulment,” she said firmly, “what role Steve had in my relationship doesn’t exist anymore.  Can you help me, Tony?”

“When are you coming back?”

“The honeymoon was supposed to be two weeks.”

“Take a month,” he said passively, almost dismissively, “I’ll pay whatever is needed from the family account.  And when you get home, come straight to Manhattan.”

“Tony…”

“I may not agree with what’s happening, Inez, but you’re still my little sister,” he sighed, “I made a promise to our parents that I’d look out for you.  That doesn’t have an expiration date.  When you get home, everything will be taken care of.  You and Steve won’t be married.  You’ll have a place here.  And Bucky will be working for Peter.”

“Tony, I-“

Tony’s jaw tensed as he looked at Bucky, “That’s not a request, Barnes.  Peter and Ned had a falling out, and Ned’s a liability.  And Parker likes you.  He trusts you. You’ll make it work.”

“Thank you, Tony!”

“I’m doing it because of mom and dad, Inez…but you need to learn how to clean up your own messes!” he said firmly, “I won’t be able to clean up after you for your whole life.”

“I know, Tony!”

“And Barnes.”

“Yeah Tony?”

“You better not be stealing her away from Rogers because you’re trying to make some power play,” he growled, “she’s not a pawn.  She’s my baby sister.”

“I love her, Tony,” Bucky answered honestly, “I don’t ever plan on letting her go!”

“Good…now go home and leave Rogers a letter.  Let him know that you’re done!” he told the couple, “Then go on your vacation.  When the two of you come back everything will be taken care of.”

“We’re home…”

“Yeah…”

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked slowly. 

Inez looked over at him and gave him a sad smile, “I’m just…I don’t know how to feel.  I mean, do you still have feelings for Steve?”

“Sort of.” He admitted, “but I’ve been in love with him since we were kids.  That’s kind of hard to get over.”

“Is it bad that I miss him?”

“It’s not bad, doll…despite what he’s done, I miss him too,” he sighed.  He reached over and pulled her towards him.  She sighed and clung to his side, “we’ll get through it…together.”

“Yeah.”

“Mr. Barnes.  Miss. Stark.  We have arrived at the location that Mr. Stark gave,” the driver called as the car came to a stop in front of large building.  Inez looked to Bucky, before her eyes traveled to the building, where a number of people were traversing down the sidewalks, “I’ll grab the bags for the two of you.”

“Thank you!”

Bucky got out of the car and walked around to the other side to open the door for Inez. But it was like her world was moving in slow motion.

Bucky crumpled to the ground, as a loud noise rang out through the street.  It seemed to echo inside of her mind, and everything started to slip into chaos.

A set of tires squealed.

People ran from the sidewalk, screaming, scattering. 

And her heart felt like it stopped as Bucky’s blood painted the sidewalk a deep scarlet while he was unmoving in the gutter. 

“JAMES!”

Chapter 13

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