#bucky barnes fanfction

[avengersfantasies]

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[allandoflimbo]

Take It Back: His Story (8)

Sequel to Take It Back

Previous Chapter

Summary: You and Bucky. It was supposed to be a happy ever after. Your story, home, and love was near perfect. After all, you had worked so hard and suffered so much to be where you finally were. But behind the scenes, Bucky had been dealing with more baggage from the past than he had been willing to publicly share. Steve was always the second best when it came to him and Bucky. From Nat, to you, and maybe now, even someone else. It’s been seven years since Ashlyn cheated on Bucky, but nine since she first fell in love with him. Two years after their public divorce and after starting therapy, she holds onto a dangerous mixture of jealousy and strength. With new friendships and new love on her side, she knows she should let Bucky go. But should is so hard to do when she loved as hard as she did.

WARNING:

This story will contain sex; oral, m/f penetration, anal sex, dry sex, rough sex, shower sex, masturbation, mutual masturbation, porn watching, and soft sex. Very strong language, strong adult content, use of drugs/alcohol, sensitive topics like marriage trouble, illnesses (both terminal and mental), one incident of almost non-con, college frat parties shenanigans, and emotional angst.

Rating: Rated R.  18+ ONLY. 🔞 no minors.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Masterpage for Take It Back: His Story

Something changed the second he stepped into your home and overheard you arguing with Ashlyn about moving into the city.

He doesn’t know what.

When you called him a few days later when you and your car were stranded, he sped like crazy to meet you. He doesn’t know why he had fought like crazy to gain your respect and trust again. He told himself it to avoid any future bad blood, come the chance if things were to ever go an extra level with Ashlyn.

He couldn’t help the anger he felt at seeing you sitting in the dark in the car like that and he couldn’t help the pity he felt when he heard your stomach growing after you had fallen asleep to Collide by Howie Day.

He wouldn’t let his heartstring pull as he tried to ignore the racking in his memories. Where had he seen you before?

His eyes had gone down to his cell phone in this cupholder where it was still dark; no new notifications.

He had pulled into a Mcdonalds' and ignored when the girl at the drive-thru gave you both a cute look. She must’ve thought he was boyfriend picking up food for his girlfriend, who happened to be drooling all over his door.

You had a personality, that’s for sure. The way you had nagged at him for not ordering a drink was a new look into you that he had never seen before.

But he liked it. You were feisty. He had no doubt you’d make good friends.

The drive to your house was silent except for when you bickered over his phone charge and when you spontaneously decided to shout out in song.

“Oh my god, I haven’t heard this song in years!”

You leaned forward and turn the little volume nob up. A small smirk pulled on the sides of Bucky’s mouth.

“I heard you’re doing okay,” Bucky couldn’t help the large smile that filled his face as your voice grew louder and more obnoxiously out of pitch, “But I want you to knoooooow,” You swayed your head back and forth dramatically as you emphasized each word, “I’m a dick! I’m addicted to you.” You couldn’t help the giggle that pulled at your throat and Bucky looked over at you. Your eyes met and you squinted at him, “What?”

He chuckled.

“Nothing. Go on.”

You squinted your eyes at him, playfully.

“I tried to make you happy, but you left anyway—!” you shoved a pointed finger in Bucky’s shoulder and he laughed, “—to forget that I’m addicted to you!— where’s that water bottle I threw back there?” You yelled over the radio, reaching into the backseat. As soon as your fingers landed on the plastic, you brought it up to your face like a microphone and yelled, “Can’t forget what you said! Come on, Bucky, I know you know the rest—” you shouted, “And I never want to do this again!” You both sang at the same time, “heartbreaker!”

“Heartbreaker!”

You both laughed out loud. Bucky reached his hand out to lower it a little.

“Didn’t peg you for a Simple Plan fan.”

You shrug.

“Eh. They have some good ones.”

Bucky nodded. He cleared his throat and his eyes went to the glove department.

“Take a look in there.” You opened the glove department. He bit his bottom lip nervously, “Grab that little black box and open it.”

You opened it right away.

“Cassettes?”

“A collection, yes.”

“Blink 182, Sum 41, New Found Glory, A Day To Remember, The Used, Breaking Benjamin,” you let out a laugh as you pulled one out, “The Offspring! Never would’ve guessed you were a closet emo.”

“I have about thirty other boxes at home, all different genres, but that’s the most recent one I’ve been carrying. You can put one in if you want.”

There was a twinkle in your eye and a pull on your heart as you admired his dorky collection. Something was interesting about it. You wanted to tease him about just opening a damn Spotify or Apple Music account, but the scratches on his black box and the faded ink on the tapes - fucking tapes -gave you an indication that this was more than just about music on demand.

“You a musician or something?”

He raised a brow at you.

“Why?”

“Never would’ve thought about it before but now that I’m thinking about it, you seem like the type. More mellow stuff though.” Bucky didn’t respond to you as you continued to decide which one to settle on.

He should’ve been surprised when you put one in, but he wasn’t.

The beginning tunes of With Me by Sum 41 play on his speakers as he continues the way to your house.

That was a few days ago.

Bucky can’t stop biting the skin on his thumb as he sits in his car, in front of your home. He has two tickets in his pocket - Coldplay and John Mayer.

Ashlyn wasn’t supposed to be gone this long. The only thing that bothered him more than her being away for days longer than he had been told was her ignoring his calls.

Bucky was worried. Something kept nagging at him, right in the pit of his stomach, but he blamed it on overthinking; on being dramatic.

__

{…and I won’t let go…}

“Open this goddamn door, Ashlyn.” George’s demanding and rough voice sent shivers down her spine, “You can’t be in there all day.”

Ashlyn sat on her bed, her head in her hands as she stared at her lap. Her eyes were already bloodshot. She hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours and she left her phone untouched in the nightstand drawer.

The guilt ate away at her.

Another knock on her door, but this time angrier, startled her.

“You know I could fire you for this, right? Then what?” She contemplated his comment. She thought about it before she decided to finally get up and open the door.

The look he gave her was pitiful. It was an exaggerated pity.

“Oh, honey,” George whispers, running his thumb over her cheek.

“Mr. Barnes, please.”

“You keep saying that I don’t know what you are begging for.”

“Stop making me cheat on my boyfriend. Your son.”

George looks away from you and at the corner of the floor in your room behind you.

“Did you get the Birkin I left you?”

Ashlyn swallowed hard and nodded.

“It’s a thirty-five thousand dollar bag. That’s how special you are. I know what you did, what we did, is hard on you. I know it’s wrong, trust me, I’m not stupid. I know. But good things will come out of this. I was just training you. You can just forget we did it if you want, but there are two things you can’t change,” he met her eyes intensely, “First. Making you continue to be unfaithful to my son won’t change the fact that it already happened; twice. And second, you’re already becoming a successful businesswoman and you’ll make a fine wife to my son one day. He never needs to find out about any of this. Ever. You’re not a bad person, I promise you.”

Ashlyn was silent under his gaze.

“Now what do you say, let’s go finish this merger deal?”

Ashlyn hated George. Detested him. He has ruined her life, and to make matters worst, she felt compelled to believe him, as if doing so would make her feel better.

Last night she had been moments away from calling Bucky and telling him what happened. She stared down at her phone, his name staring back at her, and she cried.

She loved him with all her heart. So much she wanted to save him from such a huge pain, even if it was selfish on her part and unfair. Even if it was so wrong.

And now, Georges’ words rang back to her, and held onto them. Everything except his last point.

She was a bad person.

She cleared her throat and looked down at the floor.

“I’ll go get ready.” Her voice was hoarse.

George gave her a cryptic smile and the second the door closed in front of her face, she made a promise.

She would be strong.

She would not be another victim to men like George.

Even if it made her the bad guy. She would protect the ones she loved. She would finally be who she has always been afraid to show and she will love fiercely. If George's plan was to hurt Bucky, he could go get fucked. The second George came in, he had spoken to her like she was some kind of zoo animal, and she was going to prove to him the exact opposite.

She and Bucky would win. For love.

She swallowed the bile in her throat again and wiped the linger of Georges’ hand off her face in disgust.

One last meeting and she would be home.

___

“You nervous?” Connor’s voice surprised Ashlyn.

She had been sitting in one of the chairs next to the door. Mr. Barnes had gone inside just a few minutes earlier and told her to wait until she was called in if needed.

Her mind had been running wild so when she Connor’s voice, it stunned her.

It was awkward at first as their eyes met and his steps slowed down. Three days ago he had overheard him crying.

He knew something was wrong but he didn’t want to overstep. He’d ask how you were doing when he next saw you but didn’t ask what was going on.

He sits down next to you and folds his hands in front of him, resting both elbows on each of his knees.

Ashlyn lets out a soft sigh.

“A little. I just want to go home. I’m homesick, I think.”

Connor nods.

“Is this the longest you’ve been away?”

Ashlyn looks down at her hands.

“It’s been a few years,” you ran a hand through her hair and tossed it back, “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice. France is very nice, but I miss the daily routine of my normal boring life.”

“Well, it’s a new one now, right? Because you have this new job.”

“That’s true.” Ashlyn looks at Connor and then back at her hands, “I guess it is.”

“Hey, you’ll be alright. It can be scary, this line of work, but you’ll be okay. If anything, I’m always here to help you if you have any questions.”

“You’re at Barnes Enterprises, too?” She looks back at him again, “I just realized I never really asked much about you.”

Connor chuckles.

“It’s okay,” he clears his throat, “I was a few years ago, but right now I have my law firm, but I jump in and help George whenever he needs it. He’s taught me a lot.”

“I take it you’ve known each other for quite some time then.” Ashlyn wasn’t too sure how she felt about this.

Was Connor like George?

“Give or take some years. My roommate in college was his son and he introduced me to him at the time. George and my dad met and played golf together. George offered me a job out of graduation, he was that father lawyer trying to take all the kids under his wing like a University law firm, and so on.”

The interesting piece of information was not lost on Ashlyn as she squinted her eyes at Connor.

“Your roommate was Bucky?”

Connor raised both his brows, pleasantly amused to find another similarity with Ashlyn.

“You know Bucky personally?”

Ashlyn smiled.

“Yes. He’s my boyfriend.”

Connor’s eyes remained raised, but this time a different expression she couldn’t pinpoint. His brows dropped and his features soften.

“Oh,” he says, eyes dropping, “Wow,” he clears his throat, “Small world.” He says with a little smile followed by a frown.

“Yeah, it is,” Ashlyn says quietly.

Connor felt a little awkward now.

It wasn’t that he was jealous by any means, not necessarily.

Sure, he thought Ashlyn was beautiful since the first moment he saw her, but he couldn’t assume her availability. He didn’t want to ask her right away if she was seeing anyone, he was going to Segway into it. Maybe at the end of the trip, maybe even at JFK airport when they landed back home. He didn’t expect to find out her status this soon, and with a second bomb to kill his hopes: she was dating Bucky.

One of the nicest guys he’s ever known.

Damnit.

The large door opened and George stepped out. Ashlyn and Connor both looked up at him.

“We got it,” he looked straight at Ashlyn, this time very seriously, “Good job, Ashlyn.”

“We got the merger?” Connor asks, enthusiastically.

“We did. We’re free to fly back home this afternoon. The official meeting will be two days from now. Let’s go home and celebrate.”

___

George has a driver drop off Ashlyn at her apartment that evening. The whole flight, her nerves of guilt and disgust were greater than her fear of flying, and she couldn’t sit still the entire time. She was debating how she was approach Bucky and how she would deal with the promise she made to herself.

It was so much going on in her head that halfway through the flight she got a migraine. She ordered a glass of champagne and tried to fall asleep, but failed. The champagne did help, though.

When she got home, her new home which she did adore, she left her things at the door and went straight to her room for some PJs. She grabbed some cleaned clothes and headed for the shower.

Out of her hot shower, she finally calls Bucky.

Hearing his voice for the first time in days, life-changing and terrible days, makes her almost cry.

“Hey, Buck.” She says quietly, her voice nearly cracking.

She pulls her legs up unto the bed beneath her and sighs.

“Ash, I was worried. You weren’t answering my calls or texts.”

“I’m sorry about that. We had terrible wifi where we were. Even WhatsApp was acting up,” her lie cuts right through her, “I missed you so much.”

She can feel the exasperated breath leave his lungs.

“I missed you, too. I’m glad you’re okay.” She doesn’t say anything to that out of fear that that might be the thing to make her cry, “Was there a decision?”

“George told me I can’t disclose it before the meeting, but you can be there he says when they finally announce it to the board. He said it’s Thursday.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good, Buck.” She could feel her eyes burning and her throat tightening, “Look I’m tired. The flight was rough. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Alright, Ash. Sleep tight.”

She wipes the loan tear that drags down her face and then goes to bed.

The next day, George calls her in the morning to come in for a last ten AM meeting and that’s when she starts the first day of her meeting.

She’s shocked when she’s standing there, to see Bucky MIA.

___

AUSTRALIA

That’s the thing about life and all the curve balls it throws at you; they feel unfair and goddamn undeserving.

Like the way you were fucking looking at him as he’s taking his shirt off. Like the way, you’ve been crawling into all twists and turns of his little emotions.

His eyes meet yours and you look away bashfully. Whether you’re looking at his body in general or his ugly scars, both were not good. He didn’t like how both made him feel and they both were very different feelings.

Nat had been right when she showed up at his apartment. He had to be careful to not get too close to you nor give you the wrong impression. But Bucky wasn’t ignorant either. It’s not like he was out here full-on believing you were crushing on him or something, of course not. He didn’t think you felt that way at all and he didn’t expect you to, but there still needed to be a certain distance there.

Because of what could eventually develop.

The way you were looking at him— the way you were looking at his scars, wasn’t okay.

The way you told him you had known who he was yet Ashlyn completely sidestepped that detail about knowing he was too and Ashlyn never really asked him anything specific about his scars; Bucky wasn’t sure what it was about it all but it had him feeling some type of way.

He’s been avoiding all eye contact with you since the pool. He’s walking behind you, his hand holding Ashlyn’s, as you all take the ramp to get on the yacht that later afternoon.

He can’t help but have to divert his eyes every once in a while away from you as you speak to Steve.

“Oh shit!” You yell as you almost fall off the ramp, Steve’s arm going to your side to hold you. You burst into laughter.

“Be careful!” Ashlyn shouts.

“You haven’t even had a drink yet, Y/N.” Nat says, a tinge of humor in her voice.

Steve takes your hand and helps you onto the yacht. Ashlyn pulls Bucky in the opposite direction, towards the bar in the back.

He’s momentarily stunned when they are in the corner away from everyone and Ashlyn pulls him down until their lips meet. She kisses him slowly, her tongue sliding over his for just a moment. A low moan escapes his throat.

Someone clears their throat and they both pull away immediately.

Bucky turns to see you standing there, looking uncomfortable.

He’s shocked for a second, rooted to the ground and tongue-tied. You’re avoiding all eye contact with him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. We’re putting in orders for sliders right now, I was asked to ask you guys if you wanted some before it’s too late.”

Bucky nods.

“Sure, that’s fine.”

Ashlyn drapes her arm around Becky’s necked smiles sweetly at you.

“Fine with me too, girlie.”

You nod and just barely make eye contact with Bucky and you clear your throat. Bucky watches as you walk away.

Bucky only makes direct contact with you once more on the boat.

It had been about twenty minutes since everyone had decided to jump off the boat at sunset. The sky was now a dark and hazy blue and some stars already twinkling up above.

You had walked to the bar to put in one more order of whiskey sour. You leaned against the counter, your elbows digging into the cool marble top.

Bucky was caught off guard at first as he turned the corner and saw you there. Your hair was still soaking wet from the water and you didn’t bother to cover your black bikini yet.

He clears his throat as he approaches the bar. You turn when your eye catches him and you give him a small smile.

“Hey.” You say.

He gives you a nod and a pursed smile.

“Gin and tonic, please,” he tells the bartender, “Thanks, Jack.” Bucky thanks him.

“You didn’t jump in with us.” You say, staring for a second longer than necessary at his white t-shirt before looking back down at the countertop.

“Didn’t feel like it, but I’m glad you guys had a great time.” He says.

You hum a response.

“Yeah, I did.” You say lowly.

Your damp arm touches his dry one and he turns to face you. You face him too and you look up at him.

Were your eyes always like that?

He looks away immediately and takes a small step back from you.

“I’m glad.” He answers, his voice just as low as yours.

“Gin,” Jack says, sliding the glass over.

Bucky nods him a thank you and turns to you one last time.

“I’ll see ya.”

He didn’t see your confused and furrowed brows as he walked away.

He had to find his girlfriend and give her her drink.

___

Everyone was ready for bed the moment they stepped into the Sidney rental. Everyone made their way to their rooms and bathrooms to shower and call it a night.

Including Bucky and Ashlyn.

Bucky was flipping through the channels on the tv on low volume, hating himself for not bringing his apple tv, as Ashlyn dried her hair with her towel.

“I’m going to be away a few more times in the next few months. More meetings.” Ashlyn says, a strange disappointment in her voice.

“Where? I have only seen you a few times since Paris.”

“I know. But a lot is going on, so your dad says. I’m sorry. And I’m his assistant. I need to go with him.” She clears her throat, “Paris again and another two in LA. That will be all within a few weeks.”

“God dammit, Ash.”

She clears her throat.

“I know, I’m sorry. But it will be worth it in the end, I promise.”

Bucky sighed. Giving up entirely on finding something on the tv, he puts the remote down on the bed and lays back, his hands running through his hair.

“I don’t like this.” There’s a long pause, “I don’t like never seeing you anymore. I don’t like you always being away.”

Ashlyn’s heart breaks.

“Bucky—”

“And it’s not what you’re thinking. It’s not that I don’t trust you or anything like that, I just—” he sighs, “I miss you. I miss you when you aren’t here, and I get scared that if we keep being apart, we’ll miss each other even more.”

“I miss you too when I’m there.”

Bucky scoffs, sitting back up.

“Hard to believe. You never even call when you’re away.”

Ashlyn can’t help but glare at the back of his head.

If you only knew why.

“That’s not fair.”

“Not fair? I’m trying to communicate with my girlfriend when she’s goddamn three thousand miles away and she fails to reciprocate it.”

“Because I’m busy. Plus the time difference and all that.”

“Send a text! Send one text message for all I care!” Ashlyn was getting stressed. Stressed and aggravated. She hated this, “Please, Ash.” His voice was quiet now; pleading. She swallowed hard, “Really?”

She looks up at him.

“You need to calm down.”

“Calm down?” He scoffs and looks away from her, “I’m not asking for a lot. You’re my girlfriend and I feel you pulling away.”

Small tears filled her eyes.

“Bucky, I’ve been away for one trip. I’m not pulling away from you.” Bucky didn’t say anything to that as he stood up. It ate away at her and she hated how emotional he suddenly was. He wasn’t like this when she had gotten back, this happened today, “I don’t know what you’re going through today but you need to relax.”

“What I need is a breath of fresh air.” He says, walking around Ashlyn and leaving their bedroom.

He knew it was unfair. He knew he was being a bit dramatic, but he had feelings; too many. He was like an exposed nerve right now.

He was getting easily irritated and flustered and he needed to breathe.

Walking down the steps toward the kitchen he already feels a little better. Maybe walking was all he needed.

“At the pool today I noticed Bucky’s arm,” he freezes at the sound of your voice and what you were saying, “and I know it’s probably something personal and private but they look,” there’s a big silent pause, “As something really bad happened to him.”

This was the last straw for Bucky. Emotions run over him. Shame, embarrassment, anger, interest, and confusion.

Why do you care so much?

“He doesn’t like to talk about it. Trust me if it’s something he wants to tell you, he will himself when he is ready.”

He’s always adored Nat, and she’s right. But Bucky also doesn’t think anyone has ever had the guts to ask first before, either.

“What happened in Afghanistan? He didn’t just get lost did he?”

Bucky’s stomach drops.

“I just feel bad. He was very hurt.”

He hated this.

Hated it.

“Look I’m gonna get to bed. As I said, he will tell you. That’s not my place.”

Why do you care so much?

Why?

“Okay. Thanks, Nat.”

He stands there for a few more long seconds.

He hears a creak and he makes eye contact with Nat as she rounds the corner. She’s shocked at first until Bucky raises a finger to silence her. She continues her walk up until she’s next to him.

“I’m assuming you heard everything.” She whispers.

“Most of it, yeah,” Bucky whispers back.

Nat nods.

“I’m going to sleep. Don’t be too hard on her, yeah?” Nat says.

Bucky doesn’t say anything as they hit cheeks softly, sharing a contactless kiss.

Bucky waits until she’s fully gone to go all the way down.

You jump up, clearly not expecting him.

And so he does it. He does one of the one things that has been eating at him; he finds out why it is you suddenly care.

So he pours his heart out to you that night, the first person since Nat.

The reason: You told him you cared because you were friends.

Friends.

The answer makes him stall at first because this entire time he realizes that that’s what has been happening, but at the same time it felt different, too. He’s made friends before, hell he has friends, but it didn’t feel right.

It’s always been different with you.

Always.

Next Chapter 

[ninazadzia]

When you’re ~35k* words deep into writing a Fanfiction for the first time in a decade

In FIVE WEEKS, MIND YOU

^literal footage of me from these last ~5 weeks

Also, not for nothing, 35k is a very conservative estimate - true estimate is I’m closer to 38,000-39,000 words, because I edit the chapters in separate word docs before posting them on AO3 - ANYWHO ~

I have fallen down the rabbit hole. I have this fic outlined from start to finish, in an attempt to reel it in, and have for weeks - it’s still got SO MUCH GOING ON. What started as a self-contained Stockholm Syndrome/trapped-on-a-beach-together fic between Bucky and Yelena has spiraled into a full-blown Multiverse of Madness-esque epic involving multiple variants of every fucking character, and I somehow am NOT DONE INTRODUCING CHARACTERS YET.

We have the X-Men. The Avengers. Variant Wanda. Evil Steve Rogers, Evil Natasha Romanoff, Kang, the TVA, fucking LOKI.

I am unwell.

Either this is the most brilliant thing I have ever written OR the plot of this fic literally makes zero coherent sense, there is no in between. 

If you need me, don’t, I will be locked in my cave from now until I finish writing this plot bunny that has taken over my life.

signed,

~ someone who should really be working on her grad school homework instead of writing Avengers fanfiction, whoops #send #help

[ofasgardandalfheim]

Lightning Over the Sea Chapter Three: Well met, your majesty.

In which the team eats pancakes, and we all learn more about you.

Fic synopsis:

You have spent centuries consolidating power - usually subtly - sometimes a little more brazenly. You were most recently made a Queen of the Dark Fae - but you didn’t start out that way. You were once only a siren, singing your song to sailors passing by in Alfheim, feeding on their longing for you. But it wasn’t enough for you, and you spent the past many centuries (honestly, you’ve lost count) building your powers and abilities to a level that you are not even sure of at this point. You are essentially a Goddess, here on Midgard. You’re a little scared to test the limits, but this is a comfort to you. No one will ever take advantage of you again without your consent.

But that’s another story for another day.

This is the story of how you ended up teaming up with The Avengers and meeting the man who would change everything.

Of Asgard & Alfheim Masterlist

"You are a goddess!" He pulls you in for a kiss, but you turn your head too quickly for him and make it a hug instead.

"I know! And you're welcome!" you grin and show him the plate of Mickey Mouse pancakes. "Pancakes?" He puts his arm around your waist and guides you over to the table of shocked-looking Avengers.

"Let it be known that I am still very upset with this woman for keeping secrets from me for so long, but that she is still my favorite person on the planet. Don't tell Pepper." Tony states, squeezing your hip. "If any of you are feeling like shit this morning, I recommend letting her slap you. Though the other way is better."

"What's the other way?" asks Bruce.

"Well, it's a lot more fun, especially when she uses her…." You slap your hand over Tony's mouth so he can't finish his sentence. 

"Really, any sort of physical contact will do. Though a good slap makes quick work of it," You squeeze his cheeks so his mouth puckers like a fish, "and is a good excuse to slap this handsome face." He brushes you off with a laugh. 

"Thank you again. We still need to talk later, though." Tony sits down to dive into his favorite childhood pancakes. "And thanks for the Mickey cakes. Thanks for remembering." He smiles up at you in appreciation. "I haven't even thought of them in years."

You lean down and give him a friendly kiss on the cheek, sitting down next to him to dive into your own pile of pancakes just as Thor enters the room behind you. Natasha kicks your foot under the table as if you hadn't noticed the energy in the air change moment he stepped into your presence. You make eye contact with her and smile in acknowledgment. 

"Good morning, Avengers! My lady, may I set my hammer next to you, or do you plan to walk off with it again?" Everyone laughs, but you sense a bit of seriousness in his tone. He is concerned for his precious hammer, and it is, quite frankly, kind of adorable.

"I would not dream of it, dear Prince. Come feast with us! I made pancakes." You grin. "I promise, your hammer is safe with me."

"Is that an innuendo?" Steve asks, smirking. You can't help but blush and laugh. 

"Why Captain, giving me a taste of my own medicine, are you? I would have never guessed." 

Read more on Ao3

[mousies-fanfic]

My sweetheart

CW: omegaverse trope, its all fluff based, anxiety attack, abandonment issues, like 2 whole swear words.

Alpha Bucky x Omega Loki

summary: Bucky left the tower, while Loki was sleeping, to get some food for when Loki woke up. Without leaving a note informing Loki of his where abouts. Loki has a meltdown thinking Bucky has abandoned him, so Friday alerts Bucky of his Omega’s distress.

word count: 360

Let me know if you want more oneshots like this

art work from: dkettchen.devianart/tumblr.com ~ give them a follow for more great art work. @dkettchen ~ your art work is phenomenal 

Stupid, stupid fucking traffic. Just had to be bad when I needed to get back to my Omega. They were in distress, I knew I shouldn’t have left while they were still sleeping. Luckily Friday warned me so I would get back quicker.

I just thought they would like to wake up to a cooked, candlelit dinner and some flowers. Loki was probably thinking I abandoned them, I was desperate to get back. Desperate to comfort my Omega. I could feel the anger inside me bubble as the traffic didn’t move. 

“Fuck this, I’m running the extra 3 blocks. Thanks, Happy.” I thanked the beta driver as I tipped him largely, before sprinting the rest of the way home. I burst through the main doors of the tower and to the elevator. Friday took me to mine and Loki’s floor instantly, without me even saying a word. It didn’t take long for me to get up there.

“Omega! Omega I’m here. Where are you?!” I shouted into our space. I heard Loki’s bare feet padding towards me at a quick pace.

“A-Alpha. Is it really you?” He stood at the top of the hallway, cheeks damp from old tears and new ones threatening to spill. I could feel and smell his anxiety from where I was standing.

“Yeah sweetheart, it’s really me.”I spoke softly, I didn’t move from my spot, I didn’t want to spook them further. I opened my arms, inviting them to come for a hug.Loki dropped their stuffie and ran to me, collapsing in my arms.

Loki’s sobs racked their already shaking body. I held their body weight easily as I lowered us both to the floor. My heart was breaking seeing my Omega like this. I would give them anything to make them feel better again.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I shouldn't have left while you were still asleep.” I apologised, crooning to give Loki extra comfort. “I’m never going to abandon you doll, ever.”

“P-promise?” Loki managed out between choked sobs. I placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“I promise” I whispered back, drying their tears with the pads of my thumbs.

[real-jane]

drifting (complete!)

[cw!bucky barnes x female!reader]

*masterlist*

summary: bucky saves the life of a woman when she's buried in an avalanche. faced with the possibility that his cover might be blown, bucky must keep the woman alive, and try to keep her from finding out who he is... or what he's done.

how long can he hide?

warnings: traumatized/socially-awkward bucky, canon level injury/violence, snowed-in, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, pre-deprogramming bucky, manipulative steve & nat, mention of psychological trauma and hydra-level torture, etc., eventual appearance of the winter soldier.

🎵drifting playlist🎵

One (2/7/22)

Two (2/17/22)

Three (2/20/22)

Four (2/24/22)

Five (2/26/22)

Six (2/27/22)

Seven (3/2/22)

Eight (3/10/22)

Nine (3/20/22)

Ten (3/28/22)

Eleven (4/3/22)

Twelve (4/12/22)

Thirteen (5/4/22)

Epilogue (12/12/22)

a/n: shoutout to @peterhollandkait for inspiring this story idea. Hope you enjoy!

kate’s masterlist - my bucky barnes masterlist

tag list: @peterhollandkait @abitgryffindorky @hogwartsahist0ry @idgafiamallthefandoms @mysticatto @ohheyjanie @im-just-star-dust @light-through-stained-glass @ginger-swag-rapunzel @sanguineterrain @honeywithemoney @nahthanks @lalalalokii @themorningsunshine @mumbles411 @slutforsexyseabass

[acabecca]

Start Of An Age // a Bucky Barnes x OC fanfic

Chapter 5: Seventeen

Bucky looked up from his book just in time for a packet of Oreos to hit him square in the chest as Jasmine flopped down beside him, lying on her back and crossing her ankles as she stared up at the ceiling of the little hut Bucky was currently calling his home.

“Oh, wow, thank you Jasmine. What a thoughtful gift and what a beautiful, gentle way to hand it to me.”

“You’re the one always saying you don’t want a fuss.”

“These better not be crushed.”

“Bite me, Barnes,” she stuck her middle finger at him and Bucky snapped his teeth together, making her snort. “After hitting that brick wall you call a chest? They’ve probably disintegrated. Eat the dust and enjoy it. It’s the last thing you’ll probably ever get off me because the second I catch up with your idiot best friend, I’ll end up in jail for murder.”

Bucky tried his best not to laugh. “What’s he done now?”

ff.net | wattpad | ao3

taglist: @sgtbuckyybarnes @starcrossedjedis @mer-writes @jewelswrites-ish @foxesandmagic @suethor @ocappreciationtag @marveloc-hq (let me know if you want to be added/removed)

[redhairedfeistynerd]

A Very Bucky Thanksgiving

Bucky Barnes x reader, singledad!Bucky, Riley and Piper Barnes, Steve Rogers

Summary: This is the first year Bucky has invited someone special to join in on their Thanksgiving dinner.Will everything go smoothly?

Warnings: some swearing, some sly sexual conversation

A/N: I originally wrote this piece for Canadian Thanksgiving but here we are!  I hope you enjoy another moment with the Barnes family.

For as long as his girls have been in this world, Bucky has been passionate about baking. He figures this came to fruition when his ex-wife started spending more time out of the house and preferred being away on business trips than building a life with him and their young girls. As their relationship slowly deteriorated, Bucky found solace in pastries, cookies, and breads. Navigating his way through forums and how-to videos online, searching for recipes like he once hunted for his latest mission.

His girls had requested their favourites for this last-minute weekend celebration. Pumpkin pie with maple cream, pumpkin walnut scones, and a new treat he was testing out today, pumpkin spiced doughnuts with maple salted glaze, and for his sweet lady friend; a pecan pie.

Bucky could smell the doughnuts before the time reached zero. The soft smell of cinnamon and sugar wafted through his two-story house, reaching him while he tidied up the bathroom from the girls attack on it early that same morning. Wiping down the counter, he flicked off the light, bounding down the stairs to the kitchen as the last seconds wound down on the timer. Oven mitt on, doughnuts pulled out of the oven (he was trying out a baked version this time) he had about an hour before the girls would burst in the front door after a day of shopping the holiday sales.

The weekend plans had changed at the last minute, his ex (Jackie) had cancelled on the girls again. The girls were to fly up to their mothers' cabin in Whistler, B.C. for a Canadian Thanksgiving but a last-minute job had come up and she chose that over her kids.

Bucky was not impressed by her choice. Riley rolled her eyes at the news and muttered “big surprise” when Bucky relayed the message to his youngest daughter.

Jackie always chose work before their daughters. Her new husband had more importance to her these days.

Her influencer status has skyrocketed after she left Bucky, leaving him high and dry to raise the girls. He didn't see it as an issue though, he loved his girls and if he had to do this on his own, then that's what he would set out to do. His Avengers status pushed away a few years before, he found that he was calling Steve a bit more during those earlier years. Sometimes he needs a break, to sit in a quiet room where Riley wasn't screaming at the top of her lungs, which would have Piper in tears. There was something magical about Uncle Steve though, maybe it was his rich voice, whispering sweet words to Riley to ease the screams to a low whimper. Maybe it was the way he sang the sweet songs of the 40s to stop the tears flowing from Piper's bright blue eyes. Whatever it was that Steve had, Bucky was extremely thankful for.  

One of their first Thanksgivings without Jackie, had both girls sick with the stomach flu. He'd never seen anything as disgusting as what his young girls were dishing out.  

Blood, wounds, and other violent memories had nothing on this. Who knew little people could cause THAT much mess?

Bucky was exhausted. Riley had finally fallen asleep on the couch and Piper was sprawled out in the master bedroom on his bed, resembling a starfish.

With one last swipe of the kitchen counter, Bucky tossed the rag in the laundry basket and released a sigh of completion. Turning on the hood fan, he turned off the track lights and walked towards his daughter who was now snoring lightly on the couch, when a soft knocking came from his front door. Puzzled, he turned away from his sleeping daughter and made his way to the entryway. He opened the door to Steve's smiling face.

"What are you..."

"Nat phoned and gave me the heads up that you were literally drowning in shit."

"Language," grumbled Bucky as he opened the door wider to let Steve in.

Steve chuckled and took a good look at Bucky. "Man, you're looking a little rough around the edges."

"You would too if you were knee deep in dirty laundry and had two goblins that were puking so much, they make that scene in the Exorcist look tame.

Steve scrunched his nose and tried to shake the memory of that scene out of his head. The previous year, Bucky had invited his old team over for a horror movie night while the girls were spending the night with their mom. Steve still hadn't forgiven Bucky for subjecting him to that movie. "Absolutely disgusting."

Bucky grunted and shut the door, Steve following him from the entryway and up the stairs to the kitchen.

"Here, Nat made some soup for you and the girls, if they are feeling up to eating it,” Steve said holding out the package.

“Oh ya, thanks. I’m sure the girls will appreciate their Aunty Nat making her famous soup,” he nods his head in thanks before muttering “hopefully it's not pea soup,” and walks across the kitchen.

Steve watches as Bucky tucks the soup away in the fridge, noticing how stringy his hair has become and when he looks his way, the dark circles are around his eyes. “Hey Buck, why don’t you leave the tidying up to me and you go take a shower, relax a bit.”

Bucky shuts the fridge door and looks at Steve. “Are you sure you want to clean up this cesspool?” He asks as his arms waving to point out the mess around the kitchen.

“Yes, I’m here to help you out, all right?” Bucky nods and pats Steve on the shoulder on his way up to the bathroom.

Steve manages to tidy up the first floor of the house, shift Riley from the couch to her bed, and fold a load of laundry. He’s pouring hot water into a mug when Bucky walks back in, looking like the shower did its job. “You want a cup of tea?” He asks Bucky when he sit down at the kitchen table.

“Please, a cup of something black so I can keep my eyes open for a bit longer. You feel like watching a funny movie? I feel like I need a good laugh after what this week has been like.”  

“Sounds good, how about you go on down and put something on, I’ll bring the tea and some snacks for us,” Steve replies and pours a second mug full of water.  

The men settle in and watch a classic comedy, quiet laughter sailing out of both of their mouths, trying to be quiet while the girls sleep. Steve decides on a second movie and they watch until they fall asleep on the couches.  

Bucky wakes up, his stomach twisting, and the pain, THE PAIN. "You've got to be fucking kidding.” He lurches off the sectional and runs to the bathroom by the laundry room.

Steve wakes from the sounds of his friend slamming the bathroom door, the unmentionable sounds have Steve pulling his pillow over his head. When he moves it away several minutes later, all he hears is silence. Steve gets up from the couch and makes his way to the bathroom, gently knocking on the door. "Bucky? Are you alive in there?"

"Fucking kill me, please,” he begs and Steve hears his best friend heave again.

Steve camps out at the Barnes household during that Thanksgiving weekend. There is no turkey, no pumpkin pie, or a dysfunctional family fight. Everything is quiet as Bucky careens himself in his bedroom while Steve manages the rest of the household. He keeps the girls busy and out of Bucky’s hair for several days; visits to the ice cream shop and to the park near their home, keeps them smiling and giggling while their dad is at home, miserable in bed.

Steve sits back on the park bench and admires the colours changing all around him; the leaves sway from left to right, falling gently down to the ground. Piles of brown and yellow sit before him, raked into tidy piles. He gets and idea, something to cheer Bucky up the last few days of having the stomach flu. He calls the girls over and tells them his plan to make their dad smile. He makes a video of them, jumping in the leaves and throwing them around, their laughter warming his heart. When the girls have finished frolicking in the mounds of colourful leaves, he takes each other their hands in his and begins the walk back to the house. He’ll send the little video to Bucky in the morning when he heads out and back to work.  

Bucky still smiles at the memory of that little video. He can now smile about his treacherous first Thanksgiving as a single dad but he made it up every year that followed; this year, he has to make up for what his ex has left behind. Riley is pressuring him to make her mom's famous stuffing (he laughs at this because this is a recipe that she took from a cookbook he had from his mom) Piper has decided that Bucky is THE WORST because he is going to kill an innocent turkey and all she wants is for him to save one (and yes, he does donate to a local farm that saves turkeys later in the week) and have it live the rest of its life, in their backyard. He notes that she will have a plate of vegetables tonight and he has no idea if that is sufficient enough for a teenage girl who that is 15.  

“Cranberries sauce”

“Check!”

“Water chestnuts.”

“Check!”

“Wait, what the heck are water chestnuts for, Pop?”

Bucky is sitting on the kitchen floor sorting through the pantry and about to answer when he sees you creeping into the kitchen, hiding behind his oldest, about to scare her. Her arms wrap around Piper and she squeezes her tightly expelling a high-pitched squeak.  

He will never get over how beautiful her smile is when her eyes meet his. His heart beats so fast that he’s afraid she will be able to see it pounding in his chest.  

The flowers she is holding scream fall – oranges, yellows, and reds – the cute Chinese lanterns that she adores, wobble back and forth as she walks towards him. She reaches for him with her free hand and pulls him into a tight hug, whispering “you look extra handsome today, soldier.”

“He got his hair trimmed for you,” Riley shouts from the top of the stairs and watches as her father’s face turns as red as the Gerbera's in the bouquet. She snorts as she walks down the stairs at Bucky’s embarrassment and hops down the last few steps to pull y/n into a hug.

“Hi sweetness, I missed your smiling face,” Y/N says into Riley’s strawberry blond curls.

“Missed you too. Are you ready for your first Barnes Annual Canadian Thanksgiving?” Riley asks while rocking on her feet.

Y/N looks at her, “Is it any different from the other Thanksgiving I would be having?

“Well duh, this one if full of maple syrup, poutine, and never-ending skits by Bob and Doug Mackenzie!

Bucky bursts out laughing and poor Y/N is looking between the two of them, lost when it came to the last item. “Okay, okay, Ri, leave the poor woman alone. Here love, let me take those flowers and put them in a vase.” Bucky squeezes her waist gently, taking the colourful bouquet from her hands. She follows him to the cabinet housing the vase and sniffs the air.

“What’s is that smell? It’s so-

“Delicious?” Riley adds as she passes by Y/N and hops up onto a bar stool? “Your taste buds are in for an incredible treat. Dad is the best baker this city has!”

“Pretty sure I’m not hun, but thank you for boosting me up a bit.” Bucky’s cheeks changing in colour, somewhat embarrassed by his daughter's compliment.

“Oh, come on dad, that’s why all the moms are always swooning when you join the bake sales,” Piper chirps in.

“The moms swoon over your dad? I’m pretty sure that has more to do with his-” she’s cut off by Bucky shoving a Snickerdoodle in her mouth. Squinted her eyes at him and waving her finger as if she’s promising to get him back later. He can’t help but smirk and squeeze her side.

“Shhh, my sweet. Don’t be telling my girls how irresistible I am,” he whispers into her ear and kisses it.

Riley makes gagging sounds from behind her dad and Piper’s face turns red from the affection their father is showing Y/N. This is the not the first time they have seen their father with a woman but this specific woman has done something to their father. He’s smiling, he whistles while he bakes, and he’s happy.  

Y/N turns to face Riley, “Oh kid, are we embarrassing you? Making you feel a little queasy inside?” She walks over to Bucky as he arranges the flowers in the vase and loudly kisses his cheek and laughs. “How about that Ri?”

“You’re the worst,” Riley chuckles and grabs the serving spoons to put on the table.  

Bucky pulls Y/N into a hug and kisses her lightly on the lips. He can taste the Snickerdoodle and it makes him wish he could fully indulge but he restrains, knowing that tonight they’ll have time alone once the girls head to their rooms for the night. He brings his lips to her forehead before taking the flowers to the table and placing them in the centre.  

“All right ladies, let’s get this show on the road!”  

“Don’t you mean Barnes’, Assemble!” Piper asks with a smirk on her face. Bucky just shook his head, a big smile across his face.

“Tell me where you want me, Barnes,” Y/N said as she looked at Bucky, his smirk telling her that where he wanted her was not in the kitchen.

“Turkey is in the oven, that weird Tofurky thing is in there too, I need to add the water chestnuts to the beans, the pot of potatoes needs to boil, and in a bit, we can get the rest of the veggies going too. Who’s good with making gravy?”

“I hope you made stuffing for me that isn’t in that bird, dad,” Piper said, giving her dad one of her teenage looks.

Bucky slides a bowl across the counter to his oldest so she can see the stuffing he made; animal free. “It’s vegan sweetie, I hope you like it,” Bucky responds. “I found this recipe online, some popular blog.” He watches as she scoops a bit of the warm food in her mouth, and can’t help but chuckle when a groan of satisfaction spills out.  

Y/N can’t help but take a scoop for herself, a squeal of delight escaping her mouth. “Shit, Barnsey, you’ve been holding back! Where have you been all my life?” She laughs and walks back over to him, wrapping her arms around him and going in for a quick kiss. “Let’s get this show on the road! All pots on boil!” She shouts and turns the last pot on.

The Barnes family and their first-time guest are indulging in their feast within an hour. Nothing but chewing and soft music can be heard at the table. It always amazes Bucky that it takes hours upon hours of work for this one evening and within minutes the food is gone. He’s thankful though; for his girls, for the life he now has, and for you. He wouldn’t change anything. One last scoop of mashed potatoes goes into his mouth and he places his fork down. “So, do you three want dessert now or do you want to digest a bit first?” Riley stands up from her seat and throws her hands in the air. “Roll out the cart of desserts for us to feast upon, father!”  

All Bucky can do is laugh, she’s always been the dramatic one and he lives for these moments. “Riley, I haven’t said what I’m thankful for yet this evening but one of those things I’m thankful for the humour you provide in this family.”

“Aww Pops, I appreciate that but can you please just bring out the good stuff?” Riley’s blue eyes sparkle and Bucky pushes his chair in and heads back to the counter where he has the pies and other sugary treats. He brings the doughnuts and pumpkin pie with maple cream out first, leaving the girls to help themselves as he returns to the kitchen to cut Y/N a slice of pecan pie. He places a dollop of fresh whipped cream beside it and carries it to her, his face turns red when he places it before her stating, “I made this especially for you.” A look crosses her face and its one he has only recently seen. He thinks its adoration? Or could it be...love? He’s not sure if it’s either but whatever it is, he hopes she continues looking at him that way. He sits back down across from her and watches as she takes the first bite of pie. Her eyes close and he can see the sparkle in her eyeshadow as the light above bounces off of it. It feels like forever before he hears a sound of approval from her.  

“Wow Barnes. I’m going to say this is almost as good as s-

“Well now, girls, how about you start cleaning up what you can and let Y/N finish up her pie.” He tries to pull back Piper’s chair and is met with resistance.

“No WAY, Pops. I want to hear all about how good this pie of yours is. Right, Riley?” Piper looks to her sister, eyebrow raised in hopes that her sister will join in on the teasing.”

“Hell no, I don’t want to hear about the crap these two get up to. Nu uh, NOPE,” she shouts and she grabs a few dishes from the table and heads to the sink to rinse them off.  

Dishes away and the leftovers wrapped up, Bucky takes Y/N’s hand and walks with her to his room. Door closed and locked behind him, Bucky finally pulls his sweet lady as close to him as possible. “Happy Thanksgiving, baby.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Buck.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulls him into a kiss. “Come on Barnsey, there’s one thing you haven’t warmed up yet this evening.”

“Oh, did I forget to warm up your pie because I can head back-

She quiets him with another kiss, deeper than the last. “You know damn well that’s not what I meant. Now, be good a good man and get ready for the real dessert.”

Bucky can’t help but curl up and laugh loudly. His girl knows all the ways to make him laugh and smile, tonight is no exception. With one pull, she is on top of him, where he wants her this evening; where he can be warm within and thankful for everything his life has brought him.

[builder051]

Hey!! Love the prompt list you posted! Would you write a fic with Steve and Bucky with the prompt “look at you, you’re sweating bullets”? Hope you’re having a great day!

Ok, so I’m answering your prompt and posting the debut fic for the new “We fit like an enfit” ‘verse (just call it tube ‘verse in your prompts and such. The official title is a joke about a type of syringe/extension that’s supposed to be impossible to pull apart while feeding.)

———————————-

Steve finishes typing up the story from his notebook onto his hard drive, then closes his laptop and sets it aside. His stomach’s been gurgling loudly for the last hour, and he isn’t sure how long it’ll hold before something undesirable happens.

Steve pops the mini can of ginger ale that sits on the side table and takes a tentative sip. The fluid goes down easily enough, but it feels cold and hard on his gut. Steve makes a face and sets that aside as well. He looks down at his backpack and the long whitish tail that hangs out one side and disappears up under his shirt. He’s still got at least 2 hours to go before he can come off the feed, though he’s already longing for later in the evening when he can free himself from the tube and take a long, hot shower, preferably with James behind the curtain with him.

Steve sighs as a blush floods across his cheeks, followed by a rush of hot nausea. He closes his eyes and shakes his head for a second, but the feeling doesn’t abate. He dips his head, putting chin to chest, but all that does is yank his stomach up into the region of his throat.

Steve lets out his breath, knowing he isn’t likely to vomit, and even if he does, he can’t regurgitate food. His formula enters his body through the small intestine, so it’s too low to come back up through the mouth. The tiny amounts he does take orally might sit in his stomach almost indefinitely due to the organ’s paralysis, but he hasn’t had anything recently, save the sip of ginger ale.

The rotten feeling inside him grows, and Steve pulls his feet up off the floor and tucks them tightly beneath his body. He wraps his arms around his shins and buries his face in his knees. “You’re fine,” Steve tells himself. “It’s fine. It’ll pass...”

And it does, sort of. The cramp rises to a sharp pain that hits between his stoma and his navel, then begins to ease off. However, it leaves a stronger feeling of nausea in its wake.

“Ugh,” Steve groans. He pits his head back down, but then lifts it momentarily to glance at the living room wall clock. It’s nearly 6, and high time for James to be arriving home. Steve wants to pull himself together, but even more so, he’s desperate for James’s help. Exactly what that looks like, Steve isn’t sure, but it has to get him out of this nauseated limbo at least.

Steve feels a wash of hot saliva drift over his back teeth, and he swallows hard, setting his jaw. “Not now,” he mumbles. “Not today.” He wants to be in a good mood when James gets home. He wants to sit at the table together, then hop in the shower and maybe share some cuddles before he has to hook back ip to his feed and go to bed.

His stomach makes a loud gurgle again, as if making fun of his plan. The urge to throw up presses in around Steve’s neck and chin, and he swallows hard, tasting salt and bile on his saliva. He swears under his breath, then claps a hand over his mouth to keep both the word and the impending sick trapped inside.

At the same moment, the doorknob rattles, and the door to the apartment opens. James stands in the doorway, sweatshirt pushed up to the elbow on his prosthetic arm.

“Hey,” says James brightly. Then, “What’s up?” When he focuses on Steve.

“Mm,” Steve forces out. “Not feeling so good.”

“Aw, geez, ok.” James shuts the door behind him and hurries to Steve’s side, dropping his bag and kicking off his shoes beside the welcome mat.

“Look at you,” he says as he squats in front of Steve and takes both his hands, prying them away from his mouth. “You’re sweating bullets.”

“Am I?” Steve gives his his head a small shake, and sure enough, his hair is now stuck to his forehead.

“You need the bathroom?” James asks

“Starting to think so,” Steve admits. “I was thinking I was fine, then out of nowhere, just my stomach—“

The begging of a retch works its way up his throat, and Steve swallows frantically.

“Ok, come on.” James takes Steve under the arms and lightly sets him on his feet, then leads him down the short hall into the bathroom.

Steve kneels before the toilet and rests his forehead on the seat, suddenly too tired and trembly to hold it up. James’s hand appears on the back of Steve’s neck. “You’re warm,” he comments. “Sure you’re not running a fever?”

“Uh,” Steve starts, apit running down his lip. “Check later?”

“Sure,” James agrees.

Steve reaches backward to pat James’s knee, then grips the edges of the toilet bowl. He slams his eyes shut as his body heaves, and the ginger ale comes up mixed with thick yellow bile.

“‘S ok,” James soothes. “Just get it up.”

Steve doesn’t need encouraging. He hangs his jaw open, and more flows out, catching his lip and chin. Then his breath dissolves into deep pants.

“Done?” James asks after a couple of minutes, rubbing circles into Steve’s shoulder blades.

Steve nods, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Want me to turn off your feed?” James offers, reaching for Steve’s backpack.

“It’s too early still,” Steve says hoarsely.

“But it can’t feel good, running into you when you’re all churned up.”

He has a point. Steve nods and lets him turn off the pump and undo the extension.

“There,” James says, laying flat the hem of Steve’s shirt. “Feel better?”

“A little,” Steve replies.

“You look a little better. Still off, but less likely to pop.” James smiles.

“‘S good, I guess.”

“Now, what do you think?” James asks. “Shower, then bed? I’ll go with you to make sure you don’t pass out in there.” There’s a twinkle of laughter in his eye.

“Sounds amazing,” Steve says. “All of it.”

He gets shakily to his feet and begins to strip. “As long as you don’t mind spending your evening taking care of me.”

James stands as well and oulls his sweatshirt over his head. “Couldn’t think of a better way to spend it.”

[shotsbyshae]

Stay

Warnings: Language, General Violence-ish

Words: 1.6k

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve was taken by you from the moment he saw you, without ever knowing who you were. 

Song: Stay by Rihanna

A/N: Just a quick one shot for @ne-gans​ birthday challenge. Happy Early Birthday! 

Funny you’re the broken one, but I’m the only one who needed saving.

Chemistry.

He feels it as soon as soon as he steps off the elevator at the Triskelion – his eyes landing on you. Steve watches for a moment as you stand in front of the marble monument, scanning the names of the fallen agents carved in it. His recent argument with Fury has his blood boiling, but there’s something about you that makes him forget all of that – for the moment at least.

He’s nervous as he approaches you, maybe partly due to Romanoff’s persistence on his dating life lately or maybe something else. Steve glances at the Wall of Valor, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s memorial to all agents lost in the line of duty, it had been one of the first things he’d noticed his first time in the building.

“Heading out or getting back?” he questions you quietly, recognizing the look in your eyes.

You turn your head slightly to look up at him, surprise and slight confusion on your face, “I’m sorry – what?”

“On a mission,” Steve continues, as he looks back at the wall. “I usually stop by here before I head out on one.” He reaches across, running his finger lightly along one of the names etched in the stone – J. Barnes.

“Keeps what we do in perspective,” you respond, a relaxed smile settling on your face. “I’m heading out.”

“Well, good luck Agent,” he smiles slightly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his navy-blue jacket. “Be safe.”

“Thank you, sir,” you say sincerely. “You too.”

***

Steve remembers being pulled from the water – knows it was him.

Bucky is still in there – somewhere.

He also recalls hearing the sound of your voice.

“Rogers – Fury I’ve got him. South – bank across the river,” your voice is muffled as if you’re speaking frantically into a pillow. Your hand is warm – comforting – as you check for a pulse on his neck. “Can you hear me?” He remembers feeling that same warmth on his face. “Steve – I need you to stay with me – okay?”

Your face hovering above him and the concern in your eyes is a hazy memory when he wakes up in the hospital. Music playing softly from one side of the bed, while his new friend sits patiently by the other.

“I want to see her,” he says quietly, having been awake for an hour and already tired of being confined to the bed.

“See who?” Sam looks over at him curiously.

“The agent who found me on the riverbank.”

***

Fury gives him your name but is hesitant about sending you.

“She’s one of mine, Cap,” he says firmly. “S.H.I.E.L.D.’s gone. Her family’s just been destroyed.”

“I just want to thank her,” Steve responds innocently.

“Uh – huh, sure,” Fury’s not stupid.

Steve sees the look Sam gives him from across the hospital room when you open the door and the tick of his jaw is enough of a threat from the badly beaten man for Wilson to keep any extra remarks to himself.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Sam nods before stepping outside.

You step over to the foot of the bed, placing your hands on the plastic footrest, “You know – when someone says to stay safe –”

“It doesn’t mean this,” he begins to smirk, stopping suddenly with a wince as it pulls at the stitches in his cheek. He licks his lips before continuing. “I wanted to thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you respond, a knowing look crossing your face. “But that’s not really why I’m here – is it?” Steve feels the scrutiny of your gaze. “You want to know if I saw him.”

“Did you?”

You nod your head slowly, “Steve – who is he?” The scrutiny gone, replaced with an uneasy curiousness. “Because the man I saw didn’t look like a killer.”

“Bucky,” Rogers replies. “He was my friend.”

“Barnes?” you question in surprise. “Bucky Barnes, but he –” Your voice trails off.

Steve’s brow furrows, “What do you mean he didn’t look like a killer?”

The sincerity in your eyes is enough confirmation for him, “Because I’ve been around enough of them to know – killer’s don’t show remorse.”

***

Connection.

Maybe it formed that day in front of the monument, or when your voice gave him something to hold onto on the riverbank. It could have been that moment in the hospital when you were the first person to not see Bucky as a killer.

Steve only knows that it’s there because he feels it stronger than he’s ever felt anything in a long time. He doesn’t know how to ask, but you don’t give him a chance.

“Steve,” you approach the man in the brown leather jacket as he walks through the cemetery. He turns to you expectantly as Sam continues ahead a few steps. “If you’re going after him, I want in.”

“Are you sure?” he questions.

“I want in,” you say defiantly. “I researched the Winter Soldier in the academy. No one thought he was real – I did. I know everything that file has in it – maybe more.” That lie came so easy for you, it was almost scary. “Steve – please.”

“Okay.”

Bucharest

“Any sight,” Steve comments, the blue ballcap he’s wearing pulled low on his brow.

“Not on my end,” Sam’s voice comes through the com in your ear as you walk slowly through the crowded market, glancing to your right you see Wilson there, two aisles over. Rogers is an aisle over on your left, a few steps ahead of you.

“These strawberries are amazing,” you remark, after taking another bite from the ripe fruit in your hand. “You guys should really try some.”

“Better than the ones in Budapest?” Sam questions curiously.

“Sweeter.”

“Guys – focus,” Steve’s voice sounds slightly annoyed.

“Cap,” Wilson’s tone changes immediately and you look over quickly to see the man you’d saw that day at the river. His hair tucked under a dark ballcap much like Rogers, he appears almost normal as he looks at the various fruit in front of him. “You’re too close.” Sam’s voice says. “I thought you said you said no contact.” Steve doesn’t respond and you glance to him – frozen in place.

He hears Sam’s voice, knows he should turn away before Barnes sees him, but he can’t move. It isn’t until your hand touches his arm lightly that he breaks his trance, looking down at you.

“Hey babe,” your voice is different, a little higher pitched as you show him the strawberries in your hand. “Look what I found.” He sees movement and flicks his eyes back to Barnes, watching him turn towards the two of you.

It’s a split-second decision.

Damn you, Romanoff.

Your whole body tenses up as he presses his lips against yours, shielding himself and you from Barnes’ view. Everything stops when Steve feels that hesitation from you.

The connection – chemistry – was it all in his head?

He feels the warmth of your free hand curling around his neck as you relax, running the tip of your tongue lightly along his bottom lip. The push and pull of control exhilarating as his tongue dips in, tasting the fruit – rich – sweet.  

“Uh – guys,” Sam’s voice over the coms interrupts the moment. “Hate to break that up, but Barnes’ on the move.”

You pull away slowly, trying to make your voice audible, “We should go.” You compose yourself as best you can, taking another bite from a strawberry as you turn to walk away. “Smart play.” The comment comes out quietly so only Rogers can hear as he falls into step beside you. “Barnes would have seen us if you hadn’t done that.”

“Was it?” he questions, glancing to you as the two of you turn down an alleyway. “Just a play?”

“That’s up to you,” you remark just before an unseen force grabs Rogers by the back of his jacket and tosses him like a ragdoll into the side of a dumpster.

A metal hand has you pinned against the concrete wall of the building so fast you don’t have time to think, much less breathe as he presses against your trachea. Your fingers grasp the metal forearm, but you know it’s useless to try and break free.

“Buck – stop,” Steve sputters, collecting himself from the ground. “You know me.”

“Who are you?” cold blue eyes glare into yours and suddenly you question everything.

Your sense of duty.

The feeling of acceptance.

The need of family.

Everything that S.H.I.E.L.D. had offered you.

“She’s with me,” Steve is edging closer hands in front of him cautiously. “We’re just here to talk.”

“Jacket,” your voice strains against the pressure on your throat. “Pocket.”

Barnes’ eyes narrow before his other hand searches your pockets aggressively, jerking the folded photo from inside. He flips it open with his fingers, staring down at the older woman with long black hair, strands of gray mixing in along her temples. She’s holding a bright-eyed baby in her arms.

His eyes flick back to you almost angrily, “Where did you get this?” Not giving you time to answer before he looks over at Steve. “Where did she get this?”

“What?” the look of confusion on Steve’s face is clear.

“This photo – I know her,” Bucky turns his gaze back to the picture before his eyes slowly drift up to yours. The moment of silence deafening before the mechanisms in his hand fill that void and he takes a step back, leaving you to grasp at your throat with both your hands. Sucking in a ragged breath as Steve takes a protective step towards you. Barnes holds the photo up, giving you and Rogers a clear view of it, his voice cracks as he states. “This – this is my sister.”

Your statement comes out between heavy breaths, “I called her Nana.” Steve glances to you in shock, mouth dropping open slightly as you fix your gaze on Barnes.

“You’re my uncle,” you see the flurry of emotions on Bucky’s face. “And the only family I have left.”  

[avengersfantasies]

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[allandoflimbo]

Take It Back chapter 22 will either be tonight or tomorrow night. 🙏🏻🙏🏻

[abrunettefangirlnerd]

I Won’t Hurt Her

Prompt: You are Tony’s best friend and falling in love with Bucky. Tony is really protective over you.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: NONE

You lay sprawled across his bed as he paces back and forth before you. Knots eat away at your stomach as you fear the thought of loosing him. A part of you regrets telling him but you knew it had to be done. The truth was killing you and if anyone could understand you thought it would be your best friend.

“He killed my parents (Y/N),” Tony turns to face you.

“You and I both know that wasn’t him. It was HYDRA.” Sitting up you reveal your wet, scared eyes.

             Tony continues to pace back and forth, talking to himself. You continue to ask yourself if you should have just fought off your feelings. Bucky and you have only stolen little moments in secret. They usually consist of lingering touches and looks, and midnight talks in the kitchen when he can’t sleep.

“Thank you again.” Bucky’s tired whisper fills the vacant kitchen.

“It’s no problem,” you insisted. “My mom used to make this for me when I couldn’t sleep.”

             Watching him take another sip of your mom’s famous hot chocolate you watch a smile form against Bucky’s lips. Taking a drink from yours, his smile thickens at the sight of whip cream on your nose. Bucky can’t help but be in awe, since being free from HYDRA’s control he has yet to see anything as adorable as you.

             Reaching his hand across the counter, he attempts to wipe the cream from the tip of your nose.  Getting it all, he moves his thump down to your lips. His eyes hold yours in a trance as you mechanically lick the cool substance from his skin.

“Thank you,” you say looking down with a enormous smile and red cheeks.

***

“I don’t think Tony likes me very much,” Bucky’s eyes float to the ground. “I can’t really blame him.”

“Buck,” you lift his chin. “He doesn’t hate you. Tony understands that it wasn’t you, he just doesn’t know where to center his anger or pain at.”

             An aching pain of your own courses through your chest, hitting your heart. Over the last few months you and Bucky have shared stories about your pasts, what you want in the future, things you both wish to change. Learning about what he did killed Bucky every day. Sometimes you wonder if he will ever forgive himself, but you fear he never will.

             Wrapping your arms around his torso, Bucky freezes at the sudden contact. It isn’t the sort of thing you do often. Usually your touches are on a much smaller scale like holding hands, brushing hair out of the other’s face, wiping tears. Though after a few moments you feel Bucky’s arms cling on to your body for dear life.

“Don’t forget that you are a part of this team,” rubbing circles on his back, as shiver dances out of him onto you. “This team has your back. You have Steve… and you have me.”

             Not thinking about the future problems you will have with Tony, you continue to hold Bucky until he is ready to let go. It may have been minutes or hours, neither of you really knew but it doesn’t matter. For the first time the both of you have found strange comfort with someone that isn’t first-and-foremost their best friend.

             Letting go, you gaze into the others eyes without noticing the distance closing. Easier than two magnets coming together, Bucky’s lips devour yours in an overdue passionate kiss. Running your fingers through his hair you deepen the kiss. You want to be as close to him as possible and you never want to let go.

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone Tony.” Hiding your hands under your knees, you glance up into his eyes. “You know me better than anyone. So you know that I never really cared much for dating or being in a relationship. Very attractive men have asked me out but it never went anywhere. With Bucky…” tears threaten your vision, “I don’t know, with Bucky it is all different. I feel safe with him but I’m constantly on my toes, and when he’s not around I miss him like crazy.”

             Frustrated from the wave of emotion, you aggressively throw your back against the mattress. Controlling your breathing, covering your face in your hands, Tony takes a seat next to you. Prying your face free he props your body in his arms as you calm down.

“(Y/N), I’m never going to not worry about you,” he starts, stroking your hair. “You’re my best friend and I am here for you, no matter who you choose.”

             Looking at your best friend you see the pain in his eyes. You can’t imagine how hard it must be for him to accept that you hold feelings for someone that has brought him heartache. While him and his father never got along, he was still his father and Tony loved his mother very much. You hope that if the situation was reversed that you would be doing the same for him.

             Wiping your eyes a smile creeps across your lips as you take in what Tony is saying. Embracing him in a hug, you are out the door in a matter of seconds racing down the hall. The sound of your shoes against the floor echoes down the hall as you make your way to Bucky’s room.

             Halting outside his door provides you with the few moments you need to catch your breath. Nerves creep up from the center of your stomach twisting your butterflies into cages of knots. Both terrified and electrified, you knock on his door and wait for him to open it.

             Before the door fully opens your legs propel your body onto his. Legs wrap around his waist, his hands steady you by grasping your thighs. Consuming his eyes with yours, your fingers brush softly through his hair as your foreheads pull together like magnets.

             Not waiting another second his lips find yours immediately. Still, you can sense confusion in his hold on you. Feeling him pull back you assure him to keep going by deepening the kiss. Backing up into his room you two find the bed. Finally you let the both of you catch your breath and your thoughts.

“What about-“

“He wants me to be happy,” you interrupt gasping the air around you. “That means you.”

“Yeah and don’t make me regret it,” Tony’s voice makes you both jump.

             Climbing off of Bucky you feel the heat in your cheeks start to rise. You feel as if you just got caught sneaking a boy into your room by your father. Standing next to Bucky’s sitting posture you try to hold your shoulder back and keep your head up high.

“I won’t hurt (Y/N), I love her.” Bucky assures surprising you.

“You better not.” Tony smirks looking between the two of you before landing his gaze upon Bucky once again. 

“You have a metal arm. I have a metal suit.”

@drabby-abby

[ofasgardandalfheim]

Chapter Four: Can we keep her?

In which you answer a bunch of questions and fix everyone's hangovers. Fic Synopsis:

You have spent centuries consolidating power - usually subtly - sometimes a little more brazenly. You were most recently made a Queen of the Dark Fae - but you didn’t start out that way. You were once only a siren, singing your song to sailors passing by in Alfheim, feeding on their longing for you. But it wasn’t enough for you, and you spent the past many centuries (honestly, you’ve lost count) building your powers and abilities to a level that you are not even sure of at this point. You are essentially a Goddess, here on Midgard. You’re a little scared to test the limits, but this is a comfort to you. No one will ever take advantage of you again without your consent.

But that’s another story for another day.

This is the story of how you ended up teaming up with The Avengers and meeting the man who would change everything.

[craftycupcake27]

Master List

New Stray kids and Seventeen Content at @hanniebaeee

BTS

💜 Forever (Kim Taehyung X Reader) :

  1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 -8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15

💜 What you do to me (Kim Taehyung X Reader) :

 1 - 2

💜 Housemates (Junkook X Reader)

1 - Housemates 

2 - Shopping Spree

3 - Your Shiny Jacket

4 - Zip It

5 - To Your Rescue

6 - Birthday Special

7 - House Meeting

8 - It’s You Kookie

9 - Happy Birthday Kookie

💜 His Wife (Kim Taehyung X Reader)

Bucky Barnes

🖤 Bookish

🖤 My Bucky

🖤 The Button Issue

🖤 The Other Guy

🖤 Blush:

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

🖤 Mystical

🖤 Library Love:

1 - 2

🖤 A Suicide Meeting

Sirius Black

💛 The Dare!

💛 My Love:

1 - 2

💛 The Slumber Party

💛 The Party

[real-jane]

drifting (4)

[cw!bucky barnes x female!reader]

summary: bucky saves the life of a woman when she’s buried in an avalanche. faced with the possibility that his cover might be blown, bucky must keep the woman alive, and try to keep her from finding out who he is… or what he’s done.

how long can he hide?

warnings: none.

word count: 2.5k+

series masterlist

***

Three days without much rest is enough to send any man into delirium. For Bucky, it isn’t an unfamiliar gambit. It’s just that he can’t feel his limbs, and his skin has permanent goosebumps so brutal that the slide of fabric feels like it’s catching on needles. He can’t remember how he got outside, or when… or why he’s barefoot, but he comes to when a hand much smaller than his closes around his wrist.

He looks at her, but there’s a spot where her face should be like she’s standing behind smudged glass. He can’t quite make out what she says either, but her tone is elevated, and she’s pulling, and he doesn’t resist. Bucky just follows. Then he’s sitting on the couch, and there’s a quilt tossed over him. And his feet are jammed into boots. Fingers are on his cheeks and he winces away.

“You’re safe.” It echoes between his ears. Safe.

“Rest, Soldat.”

He shudders. Every nerve ending retreats, but he obeys. He closes his eyes, and everything becomes dark.

***

Bucky sleeps for almost twelve hours. She sits vigil in the chair at the end of the couch, and when he starts to get restless, she reads out loud from where he dog-eared The Hobbit. It’s enough to keep him docile. With his eyes shut, he looks peaceful. She takes a photo… for Steve, she tells herself. She sends it to him without a caption or explanation, but she traces the shape of Bucky’s profile on the screen as if he isn’t laying there, a few feet away. He takes a shuddering breath, and she jumps. She’s getting careless, lazy–it's just that he’s practically snoring. Surely constant vigilance can relent for a few hours while the soldier puts down his burden.

Something about sleep deprivation is tearing down the natural wards his brain has built up since being held in captivity, and he’s slipping. If he’s only going to listen to her if she speaks to him like he’s the Asset, then it’s going to make her mission much harder. And he doesn’t deserve to be spoken to like he’s a toddler, either. Rest, little soldier. Fuck.

She lays her head back.

What would Natasha think? Do you what you must, Nat would say, even if she thought she was crazy. Would she look twice at her for lingering with him like she has all the time in the world, and not like there is an expiration for all this? Would she hold off saying something about how being stranded with him must surely be a dream come true after all that time cradling his file–or would she come right out and say it: you’ve been compromised, and it’s going to get you killed. Both of you.

She is languishing. Thank god Bucky isn’t conscious to see it. It’s even harder to hide it when he’s so obliging in his wakefulness, at least when he’s not sleep deprived. She’s ashamed of herself for it. The pang that sits in her stomach. It hit a nauseating level when she woke up and found the front door of the cabin blown wide open, and Bucky standing twenty feet off, staring out into the expanse of glittering white drifts. For just a split second, she worried that he left.

If that happens… she will follow.

His breath catches, jolting her out of her reverie. She stands slowly, propping herself up with the branch she’s been using as a crutch. No sense sitting here and wondering, or making plans for the un-plannable. Better to wash off. Get some sense of normalcy. Stop staring at the side of Bucky’s face and feeling anything.

It’s easy enough to get into the washroom; the room is small, and she uses the walls to keep herself standing. Against her better judgment, she works at the knots in the flannel keeping her leg splinted, and lets the torn fabric pool on the ground. She’d rather have a better look at the damage, and make sure it’s thoroughly cleaned so that she can accurately report back to Steve. She’s quick to snap several photos of the bruised tissue around her shin, but it’s quite… ordinary looking. Still throbs, but the pain isn’t lingering the way it did in the night.

In the thread with Steve, he hasn’t replied to her photograph of his friend from earlier. The screen is blank except for her proof of interception, the rest of their correspondence having expired after the twelve hour limit. There is one message in her queue, but it isn’t from Steve. Time stamped five minutes ago:

Take care, Пчёлка.

She huffs. Of course Steve showed Nat her message. Shouldn’t have sent it except that she wanted Steve to see his friend was alive. Right?

She rips open the drawer below the sink and drops the phone inside. It hits the bottom of the draw with a thud–dampened by a small, leather journal. It’s bound in soft red leather, littered with imperfections and scratches on the cover which have worn into raised scars. Her heart leaps into her throat. With one finger, she pushes her phone to the back of the drawer, and raises the cover of the journal.

The script is jagged and inconsistent, looping back on itself when it lacks clarity, and stopping without punctuation where there’s a question of how to proceed, but the first entry repeats itself twice. The words come in the same order, save a few corrections for the second. It must be Bucky’s. She sits on the lid of the toilet and cradles the journal in her lap. She touches her lips to keep the noise which builds in the back of her throat silent. It could’ve been a sob if she didn’t.

the man knew me i hit him he said i am his friend then he fell i pulled him out of the river he spit out water i left

the man from bridge knew me i hit him he said i am his friend and he fell from plane i pulled him from the river he breathed and i left

She turns the page.

i am james buchanan barnes

my name is james buchanan barnes

That one repeats over and over, for many pages. And the next.

the plum vendor offered me change and i dropped it and she smiled at me

the plum vendor gave me change and i dropped it by accident and she smiled at me

And the next.

And on. And on. The pages are scribbled on every line, in the margins–always with repeating sentences, always in hasty script. She flips until she finds the most recent entry.

Found a woman. She is alive. Broken leg. I did not do it.

Found a woman. She is alive. Broke her leg. I did not do it.

He must have gone over the letters a hundred times with the ballpoint pen. She wonders when he started using punctuation, at what point it struck him to do so. Clearly he’s been lucid for long enough to adapt in his memory recall. Enough that he needed to remind himself that she was not hurt because of him.

A knock at the door makes her yelp. She clasps a hand over her mouth and lays the book back in the drawer as quietly as she can. In haste, she snatches the phone and grazes her hand against the wood hard enough to skin a slight abrasion.

“Yes?” she calls evenly, though her hand aches and she’s fighting back tears of panic and sorrow in equal measure.

“How long was I out?” His voice is gruff. She swipes her hand under her nose and opens the washroom door so she can peek out at him, even as she stashes her phone in the back of her waistband. He is bleary-eyed, but the dark circles under his eyes have relented considerably.

“All day,” she says. He raises both eyebrows and cards a hand through his hair.

“Should’ve woke me up.”

She shakes her head. “You needed to rest, James. You were delirious.”

He fixes her with a narrow stare. “What?”

“Yeah. You were outside without your shoes on,” she huffs. “Like you were sleepwalking, or something. But once you were inside, you closed your eyes and you were down for the count.”

Bucky leans against the doorway–too close for propriety’s sake, but he seems to need something to bolster him. He looks down at his feet, which are still covered in his ragged boots, even though the laces are untied. She follows his gaze.

“Those boots have seen better days,” she says.

“So have I.” Bucky’s eyes flick up to meet hers. His expression is unreadable. He worries the untamed scruff on his chin. “I keep having this weird feeling like I have met you before,” he says. "Is that crazy?"

She swallows hard. “I thought the same thing.”

“Once you weren’t afraid,” he says.

She lets out the breath she’s been holding, after seeing his desperate words in his pained handwriting over and over again in that god-forsaken journal. She doesn’t stop herself from reaching for his forearm, but it happens almost independent of her consciousness. She lays her fingers over his left arm.

“Got over that pretty quick,” she murmurs. “I can see that you’re a good person, Jamie. Anybody ever call you that?”

He snorts. “My sister. Becca. It’s been a while. You must have one of those faces.”

"Huh."

He pats her hand, and she’s reminded that he’s still gloved… has been since the moment he saw her. She wonders what he would do, if she took off the glove which conceals his prosthesis. If he’d jump away, or if he’d let her look up close and turn his hand over in hers, and watch as the plates shifted in his palm with every little pretense of a muscle movement.

“‘M gonna shower. If that’s okay. I’m sure I need it,” she says, feeling her cheeks heat up at the thought of him agreeing with her.

“I’ll do some clothes washing once you’re done,” he says.

She realizes that her hand has slid up to his shoulder, and he’s staring at her with confusion. She retracts her hold on him and nods. “Alright.”

“But. If you want, I can loan you something again. And I can wash your shirt, at least. I think it’s still with your snow pants.”

She nods. Bucky steps into the washroom without asking her to step back, which results in her body being crowded by his torso as he reaches above her head and grabs a bag from the cabinet above the toilet. He fishes out a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, but he winces to hand them over.

“I’m sorry this is all I’ve got–”

“This is really generous,” she says, before he can dissolve into apologies for more than his slim wardrobe options. “More than. I appreciate it so much. Just. Everything.”

“How’s your leg?” He ignores her sentimentality in favor of deflection, but he doesn’t step out of the washroom. He just leans against the sink and folds his arms, leaving her to sit on the toilet to step out of his personal bubble. She does so, and rucks up the leg of the sweatpants.

“Honestly? Way better than I expected. It must not have been that bad to begin with… or your splint was more effective than I realized. Either way, it’s barely even bruised.”

Bucky kneels at her feet to take a closer look. She watches him in wonder. He grasps her ankle like her bones are made of glass, and rests her heel on his knee. Then, his hands are on her skin, even if the touch is blocked by smooth leather, and he’s looking closely. He frowns.

“Could’ve sworn it looked worse than this,” he mumbles. “Well. Good, it looks good.”

“Yeah. I’m relieved it’s not worse. I wish I had my bag, though… god, I don’t even have deodorant,” she says.

Bucky points to the right-hand drawer–opposite of the one with his journal of self-assuredness–and nods. “Some in there.”

“...can I ask you something? And you can feel free not to answer.”

He sits back on his heels, setting her foot on the ground again. She hugs her arms around herself. “You… you take things. Supplies. From other cabins, right? I’m–this is not me judging you, but… you didn’t really plan on being here long, did you?”

He looks down at the ground, cowed immediately, but she reaches out with both hands before she can stop herself and cups his cheeks. “Forget I asked,” she says. “It’s okay. Are you… are you okay, do you need help?”

It takes several seconds for him to do anything else but stare at the floor. But then, he grasps her wrists. Not hard. Loose enough that she could slip her hands from his hold easily.

“I don’t know,” he whispers.

She nods, even as emotion chokes her. “I, um. I’ll help. We’re waiting for the snow to melt, anyway… What else do I have to do?” She laughs lightly. “You need to sleep more, for one thing. No more all-night vigils.”

Bucky tugs her hands down so she’ll stop touching his face. “I’ll try.”

“Okay. That’s enough for me. If you need me to read to you about hobbits again, I’ll happily oblige.”

Then, he finally looks her in the eye, with irises so blue they make her own water… with one eyebrow crooked upwards. He huffs. “Thought I was dreaming that.”

“I mean, if you have other books, I can do lots of good voices.”

He doesn’t smile. Not even the facsimile of a grin. But his mouth un-tightens, and for what it’s worth, his expression seems to lighten. He’s at least not actively frowning. He nods to the closet opposite the washroom door.

“There’s a few in there.”

“Good.”

He stands, but his gaze stays settled on her. He shakes his head, apropos of nothing. She taps the watch at his right wrist. Bucky turns his arm so she can read the time. It’s barely five in the evening.

“While you do your washing, I’ll make something to eat. If you're hungry,” she suggests.

He sighs. “Starving.”

She smiles. Because she wants to, and it isn’t a feeling she has to manufacture in her attempt to get him to trust her, and because he’s rested. He’s solid. Maybe not solid, but he’s at least more stable than she’s seen so far, and speaking in full sentences, and that is something worth celebrating.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“You can leave what you’re wearing on the floor. I’ll get to it with the rest.”

“Okay. Thanks, Jamie.”

He nods, just once.

Bucky leaves her to it, but it takes her a second to stand again and start the shower, because something flashes across her vision like a lightning strike to the brain. It’s just a moment–the shock of a memory, or something entirely unbidden, but it makes her gasp in pain. She clutches her stomach, tugs her shirt up. There’s nothing there, in the place she saw the metal flash towards her soft belly, but the whole image was red.

Red.

***

Chapter 5

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