#bucky barnes miniseries

[justkending]

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 5/7)

Mini-Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader (Enemies to Lovers) (Fake Marriage Trope)

A/N: I think we are staying on track for this to wrap up within two more chapters, but again, we are both in the dark if that's the case😂 Thank you guys for the love! If you are wanting to be tagged, please send me an ask. It's a lot easier for me to keep track of who's been added and who hasn't :)

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Y/N’s POV:

Okay, so maybe I blew up a little more than necessary, but I tried to chill out before he started chasing me, ordering that I didn’t walk away and talk to him. Let a girl try to get a hold of her emotions for a second big guy.

I’ve been anxious all day, waiting to talk to him about some deep seeded trauma, and then he comes and screws up all of it with a simple exception to an invitation. I know he didn’t mean harm by it, but he’s a trained professional. That was not a trained professional response. Plus, stepping out of my normal routine of being a bitch to him to keep him at a distance wasn’t just a switch I could flip.

Again, I could have handled that better, but now my brain is in mission mode, trying to reprogram what this night has set up for us. Considering the invitation was for tonight, it gave me little to no time to prepare.

“What time did she say dinner was?” I shouted from my bedroom, where I was going through our small, hidden arsenal of gadgets Tony had made for us.

“Six,” Bucky replied from his room down the hall.

Great, that was forty-five minutes from now… “Ok, I can do this.” Deciding it was best to keep some bugs on hand in case we could plant them in the house, and we would be planting them, I needed to consider sizes and placements.

“Should we bring over some wine or something?” Bucky’s voice was now in the doorway to my room, but I kept my back to him as I sifted through our tools.

“I made a pie earlier today. We can take that,” I answered absentmindedly.

“Why’d you make a pie?”

“Felt like it,” I shrugged and walked out of the closet with three small wires/ bugs in hand. When I looked up, I saw he had changed into a nicer button-up and was tightening a tie around his collar he hadn't been wearing earlier. “Why are you wearing a tie?” I examined him.

“Same reason you’re wearing a nicer dress. I want to make a good impression,” he shrugged, straightening pieces of his outfit.

“I’m wearing this because we were going to our ‘anniversary dinner,’” I made sure to put the lie in hand quotes. “I had a story that went with it, but this can pass as casual, too,” I motioned to my dress and moved toward him, placing the wires on the bed. “This looks like you’re about to give a sales pitch.”

Without thinking, I pop his collar up and loosen the tie to get rid of it. The whole time I’m focusing on untying it, I ramble about what the plan is for the night.

“I’m going to give you a wire to put wherever you see fit, and I’ll do the other two. I’ll excuse myself to use the bathroom and sneak it where it’s needed. I feel it’s important we look for cameras already in the house in case it’s a setup. We don’t need them having hard proof that we bugged their place. We want to come off as simple yet good assets if we want them to bring us on board for their work,” I struggle with a certain spot on the tie he somehow fixed in an efficient way I’d never seen. “Jesus, were you a sailor in another life? Might as well have knotted it.”

He doesn’t respond, but I get it off in the next two seconds and look at him to see he had been studying me intently as I invaded his space. I see my slip-up, push the tie into his chest, and take a step back.

“Sorry.”

“No problem,” he answers rather calmly, and I look at his eyes, seeing patience there. Always that damn patience. How did he still have it with me even with how I’ve treated him? “Listen-”

“About last night,” I say at the same time, and he seems shocked but gives a single nod to tell me to continue. “I want to say I’m sorry for being all over the place recently. From last night to thirty minutes ago.”

He seems frozen by my apology, and I became anxious enough that I start to word vomit.

“I took some time to think after last night and spent the day stressing, thinking how I was going to talk to you about it because I do want to. I want to get what I can out on the table if you’d be ok with that,” I look up through my lashes, and I see the most subtle turn of his lip as he watches me attentively.

“Are you hinting that there’s a chance I’ll get to see the side of you others are lucky enough to see?” he retorts, grin growing and taking a step closer to me.

His use of the word ‘lucky’ shortcircuits my brain, and all I can do is nod once, slowly, as my answer. He takes another step, and I match it with one back. I feel more vulnrable than I was expecting to.

“You can understand now why having our plans for the night changed made me slightly temperamental.”

“I think slightly may be an understatement.”

“I think you still should choose your words carefully,” I say, tightening my smile. However, it doesn’t shut him down like normal. Instead, he laughs under his breath, and the doorbell rings.

Both of our heads shoot toward the noise, and solemnity takes over the room.

“You don’t think that’s,” Bucky pauses as he turns back to me.

“How often am I wrong?” I take a deep breath in and smooth my dress out as I walk over, pausing beside him. “Hide the wires. I already did a sweep of the house while you were getting ready to make sure we didn’t have anything out of place. I’ll tell them you’re getting ready.”

I don’t need to open the door to know who it is, but when I do, the urge to yell, “I told you so!” in Bucky’s face is strong.

“Bethanne!” I smile kindly and immediately notice the dish in her hand. Reggie is behind her, holding two others, looking like he just got off work and had been dragged over here. “Did Beau tell me wrong? Are we not eating at y’all’s house tonight?”

She scrunches her face in a practiced motion and lifts the ceramic bowl up as she explains.

“I hate to ask this of you, but our oven is still the old rickety one. The new one had some faulty design, and we had to ship it back. Needless to say, it decided to give out on us today of all days,” she raised her shoulders. “I know we sprung the dinner on you suddenly, but would you two be willing to host if we provide the food?”

Not on the money of what I guessed, but pretty fucking close to the money if you ask me.

“Who is it, Doll?” Bucky’s voice carries from the hallway he’s now emerging from. The first three buttons on his dress shirt are undone, and he’s messing with the cuffs on the sleeves. “Hey, Bauers,” he smiles yet still holds shock in his features by the neighbor's appearance. “Did we get the time wrong?” he asks, looking at his watch before coming to my side, where I've now moved and am letting themselves in.

“No, no, no,” Bethanne shakes her head and hands off one of the pots to me as she takes one from Reggie, who looks more bothered to be here than happy. Long day human trafficking, asshole? “We had some appliance issues thanks to some of the renovations we were doing. I was just asking your wife if we can use your house as tonight's setting and possibly use your oven while here.”

Without hesitance, Bucky takes the dish from my hands and the dish Bethanne had swapped for and nods for Reggie to follow him.

“No problem at all. Let me help you ladies with that. Char," A nickname he had never used for my character before, but it seemed to work fluently. "Would you like to get some wine for the two of you while I get this organized in the kitchen?” he asks me, placing a kiss on the side of my head while his hands are full as he walks towards the other room.

I don’t know how he’s learned to play his role so well, but it’s convincing, even to me.

“Uh, yeah,” I almost stutter in my response as I motion for Bethanne to follow me to the wine cooler out in the garage. “Red or white with tonight's dish?”

"Do you have any more husbands like that in the back I can steal? What a gentleman," she coos, shoulder-bumping me.

___________

Half an hour of baking the food and getting it plated, and our conversation continued with questions mostly strictly about us, which would have been fine if not for the reason behind such invasive intentions.

They started off simple. How’d you guys meet? Who made the first move? What did we love about the town so far? What kind of hobbies and adventures did we take on before moving here? All questions we had prepared for, and if not, could easily improvise.

So far. No slip-ups. If anything, we sold the scheme far better than I’d imagined we would even when they became more personal. And our discussion on being the ‘prude couple’ last night seemed to affect Bucky’s actions a lot more than I was expecting.

An obvious hand on my thigh under the table and an arm thrown over my seat in a slightly possessive manner seemed to catch the eye of Reggie, who mimicked some of the moves as if it were a competition.

In addition, Bucky kept making small compliments about how I looked and how smart I was when they asked about my job. Dropping little comments about things I did (not my character) that he loved and appreciated.

“She’s always doing things like that. I almost never have to worry about making coffee in the morning because she has it all set up just to hit a button and go.”

“You should ask Charlotte about that! She’s the reason our house looks like a home. I’m sure she could give some advice on the kitchen backsplash.”

“She may not know how to boil an egg correctly, but her baking skills are unmatched. I've put on a few pounds now that we have a nice kitchen to spend time in."

I did my best not to act shocked every time he dropped a compliment, but the fact he could have made shit up for my character and used those details as conversation pieces, yet he went the honest way (although more convincing, of course), shocked me.

“Speaking of baking skills,” Reggie nodded his head back to the kitchen counter behind us and smiled at me. “I spied a pie on the counter. Any chance we can have that to finish off this dinner?”

I was still staring at Bucky from his last form of appreciation when I blinked out of my distraction and returned to our neighbor.

“Oh, of course! I was just about to offer,” I smiled, standing up, and Bucky quickly stood next to me, pulling my chair out. “Thank you.” I smiled at him and placed a hand on his arm as I moved around to the counter.

“How sweet. Oh, Charlotte, would you mind telling me where the bathroom is?” Bethanne asked, standing and giving her husband a look for not showing the same chivalry as Bucky.

I watched her, knowing that I would have used the same excuse to do what we planned to at their house. But I was two steps ahead of her.

“Of course! Beau, do me a favor and get some plates out for dessert. I’m going to show Beth-”

“Oh, I’m sure I can find it,” she waved off, coming around the table and moving to the hall promptly.

Yeah… Not without a chauffeur, honey.

“No problem,” I waved off, moving with her casually. “I need to grab some floss from my bathroom before dessert. I’ll show you to it.”

I can see the most subtle glaze of annoyance at my insistence, but she smiles and walks a step ahead of me.

I show her to the bathroom and make it seem I’m going into the master down the hall while she’s in there. And I do, but I keep an eye to make sure she isn’t snooping in any other room besides the one. We’ll have to survey it after they leave, but better that and the dining room than the whole house.

Once we’re back with the boys, no wandering to be done, Bucky helps me plate a slice of chocolate pie for each of us, and I offer to move the conversation to the porch. Any kind of redirection from the comfort of the inside of our home is welcome.

“I love how you’ve decorated your porch. It’s so cozy,” Bethanne notices, pointing out the colorful decorative pillows, hanging swing the size of a daybed, and loads of plants and decor that make the space more intimate. She and Reggie are sat on the two rocking chairs facing the front yard, and Bucky and I are sat close together on the swing, where he’s controlling the tempo we sway in.

“I always wanted a spot outside to escape. We didn’t really have that at our last home, and it was important for me to have this time around,” I replied.

My answer is actually very true. I loved being outside, especially when it was something as simple as sitting in the backyard or swinging on a porch. I had one requirement about this mission, one I’m not even sure Bucky knew about. But I asked Tony to supply a nice budget for the porch.

Call it cheesy, but growing up in such an unnatural and dehumanizing way, you crave a small part of that normalcy you see on the movie screens. For some reason, a porch I could escape on but still be within the comfort of my own home was a dream. And because it was, I thought I’d make this situation a little more bearable by granting that small wish I always had.

“Well, I may have to start budgeting for a new kind of renovation,” she patted Reggie’s back, and he gave her a tight-lip smile. "What do you say, Reg? Do you think we can get a swing like that one?” She smiled over at us just as Bucky pulled me into his side, his arm going around my waist and his hand resting on my hip bone.

“I have a feeling we might as well have built a home from scratch by the time you’re happy with the renovations we’ve taken on,” Reggie answered with a nod before taking a swig from his beer. “Get that recipe for the pie from Charlotte, and I’ll consider buying you a new porch,” he winked my way and turned back to the front of our lawn.

I instantly found Bucky’s hand tightening, and his thumb started rubbing in an up-and-down pattern along my hip. When I turned to him slightly, his gaze stayed on Reggie.

Before finishing cleaning up for the night, we said goodbye to our guests, and just when we thought we hadn’t made any headway in our conversation about work (mind you, we had dropped hints and notices about it all night, but neither of the two seemed to take the bait), Reggie stopped on the last step to our porch and turned to Bucky.

“You mentioned working in transportation, and by the sounds of your new job up here, if you’re interested in a more innovative place, I may have some ins for you,” he shook Bucky’s hand. “I have some coworkers around the states that could use some employees like you on their route.”

“I may take you up on that offer. It all depends on how this week rolls out,” Bucky answered perfectly. The Bauers said their goodbyes, and we watched them walk home before turning to each other.

In a silent celebration, we grinned at the invitation and then sent wordless glances to tread carefully when we got in before scoping the place for bugs…

_______________

Bucky’s POV:

I’m not surprised that the blonde sole cycle instructor of a neighbor was able to get a wire in our bathroom, but neither Y/N nor I were in the mood to remove it right away and give away our knowledge of it, so we each grabbed another drink for the night and debriefed subtly on the porch where the only bugs we had to mind were the crickets chirping their music for the night.

Bethanne was right. Our porch was nicely done, and I hadn’t even noticed Y/N had hung lights out here until she plugged them in.

“I feel like this spot is more put together than the rest of the house.” I noticed the details when we were out here earlier. Now, we both have taken up spots in the rocking chairs our neighbors had vacated.

“I may have focused more of my attention on this spot than the others,” she smiled as she brought a tumbler glass up to her lips. She had drank wine while Bethanne was here, but as soon as they were gone, the whiskey I had made a glass for myself was stolen out of my hand before I could take a sip. Now, we had each of our own.

“Was what you said about the porch a real thing? I mean, we have balconies at the compound,” I looked at her as I sat my drink on the small table between us.

“Balconies and porches aren’t the same. At least in my head, they aren’t,” she nodded, taking a deep sigh and resting her glass in her lap. “Did you mean what you said when you were complimenting me all night?” She lulled her head to the side to look at me.

I had been making compliments. It felt easier to use the ones I had picked up on than the ones I made up. Yet again, I think anyone should get the recognition they deserve when they excel in something. Y/N just tended to excel in more than I think she was aware of. And I was learning she didn’t seem to be used to people taking note of those things.

“Why lie?” I shrugged, starting to rock in a steady pattern.

“Because that’s this whole gig. A lie,” she answered, taking another pull of the hard liquor.

I considered her perspective and shook my head, looking out to the lights on the other side of the street. “I guess it gets tiring at points. Don’t really feel like doing it if the truth can be just as usable.”

She didn’t answer for quite a few seconds, and when I turned back to her, she was staring at me like she was waiting for another shoe to drop.

“How are you so patient? Seriously, is it a drug Tony made you before you had to deal with me on this mission? I don’t get it,” she laughs, but I can hear the genuine confusion in it as she sits forward and turns her body to me.

Honesty. I’m in a mood to be 100% honest.

“Want me to be real with you?” I asked, turning my own body.

“It’d be preferred,” she nods and rests both her arms on the armrest.

“I don’t know anything about your past, but I know most people have a reason for acting the way they do. It took years and a ton of patience before I felt like I was even close to who I used to be. I still struggle to come to terms with the fact I’ll never be who I was before the train incident,” I sigh and rest my head back against the chair as I look at her. “I guess I have understanding more than patience. I understand that you have a history of your own that I don’t know, and I can’t blame you for a lot of the things you do.”

“But you should. I’m an asshole to you,” she says, and the admission is kinda nice to hear, even if it is sad.

“Yeah, and I was hoping you’d be willing to share why that is,” I reply calmly.

She tenses some and sits back in her chair, pulling her legs under her to sit crisscrossed, the chair rocking with her movement and her dress overflowing past her knees.

“I guess now is as good a time as ever…” She looked at me sidelong before finding comfort in the view in front of her instead. “I didn’t really have a chance to develop a personality of my own because of my time in this lifestyle,” she motions around her, “started as soon as I could walk. So I had no identity to fall back on since I had to find it after I escaped.”

I had questions, but I found it best just to listen. Clearly, what she was talking about wasn’t something she brought up lightly, and being an ear to listen was what she needed right now.

“I was left behind by whichever no-good parent gave me up, and Adonis Hummel took me as his own and decided he’d try to recreate the famous assassin, The Winter Solider, from birth practically.”

The name drop came quickly and struck home. I didn’t know her whole story, but I had enough imagination and experience to believe where she was going.

“Wait, Hummel?” I started because the name sounded familiar, but…

“He was a low-level scientist who worked for Hydra when they were still using you under Pierce. He thought he had the brains and resources to create his own version of you. A version that would be more undetectable as a woman and a version he could tweak however he wanted,” she rolled her shoulders. “Lucky for him, I didn’t have to be brainwashed since I knew nothing besides the life of abuse, experimentation, and a shit ton of conditioning... " 

"To clarify, I say that for context, not sympathy,” she straightened, and I could see her shifting back to her unbothered disposition, but the truth was shining through the cracks. She may not have wanted sympathy, but something about the vulnerability seemed to lighten the load on her shoulders.

“As for why I may have built a wall around you, an unhealthy and senile wall, I felt as though…” She gulped as if the next part was harder for her to say than the abuse of her past. “I felt as though you had been my competition my whole life, and a part of me, a young and in-need-of-therapy part of me, thought it was best to keep you as far away as possible and hold onto that anger instead of work through it. It felt easier than facing the fear that I didn’t actually equate to you in any way. So that’s another reason why I felt everything with you was to prove a point.” She lets out a short breath after using all the air in her lungs in one swift swoop.

I-

It’s a lot to take in…

She doesn’t move her head back towards me after her confession, and I can’t seem to break my stare from her.

“This is where you say something like, ‘Well, it’s your lucky day. I’m actually an asshole either way, so we can go on hating each other for completely understandable reasons!’ or I don’t know? Anything but silence would be preferred, though…”

Her hand is gripping the arm rest unconsciously like an anchor keeping her on earth.

On instinct, I reach across and pull her hand into mine, keeping my stare heavy, enticing her to look at me.

She closes her eyes at first and takes another short breath before turning.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel unworthy of being on the team.” I feel like I personally am the reason for her suffering, even if I had no correlation with her before I joined the team. "You are more than an asset to the team and are your own kind of weapon. It's incomparable."

“Ugh,” she sniffles and rubs an eye with the heel of her free hand as if to disguise a possible tear as allergies. “This would be so much easier if you were a piece of shit misogynistic asshole, but you're part of the few good ones out there. Steve, Sam, and Clint included, not Tony,” she noted.

I smiled, thinking about how I’d make a team like that even if she had me believe otherwise for so long.

“What I’m trying to get at, B, is you’re not the one I should be blaming for my past. You’re just as much a victim as I am, but I took the easy way out of making it more manageable for me, and I only made it harder for us both in the end. And for that,” she turned and stared into my eyes fully, the hand she held squeezing my own. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve an ounce of the kind of cruelness I tried to bury you in. You are the opposite of what they tried to make you, and you’re genuine in proving that to anyone who meets you. I've been envious of the strength you have, and I can say confidently that I deeply regret ever blaming you for that.”

I once again have to process yet another collection of words I’d never thought I hear. From her. Ever. A part of me believed this was a dream, but the part that Y/N had a grip on was practically pinching me into reality.

Without hesitating, I stood up, pulled her arm up with me, and yanked her into my body in a crushing hug.

She froze at first… The motion was quick and surprising, but slowly, she unhooked our hands, brought both of hers tightly around my waist, and laid into me. I rested my head on top of hers and pulled her shoulders in with my arms, wrapping both of my own tightly around her.

I wasn’t going to let go until she did, and by the looks of it… She wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

Marvel Tags:

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My Lovelies Forever:

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Mr. & Mrs. Hunt Series:

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[captainsimagines]

pretty woman, this is me trying || B.B Masterlist ||

Summary: Bucky Barnes does not like to be touched. He’s completely ready to live a distant life and give up when the time is right. Until Stark hires him his own personal pretty woman. Over time, Bucky Barnes begins to learn how to touch again. How to feel again. How to love himself again. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female SexWorker!Reader 

Trope(s): Holiday Fanfic 🎄 ; Slow-Burn ; Friends to Lovers

Based on the Song(s): sweet nothing by Taylor Swift and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

Word Count: 37,000+

This series is completed. Also read on AO3.

Warnings: This fanfiction deals with heavy and rough topics such as: consensual sex work, sexual themes and discussions, panic attacks, detailed sexual content, and past sexual and emotional abuse (caused by Hydra). This work is strictly 18+ only and is purely fanfiction. 

Author’s Note: This holiday series is a lot more serious and heavy than The Warmth of Winter, but it’s what was in my head. I literally wrote it in 3 days. Oops. I hope it’s good.

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TAGLIST: @natbarnes1917​ @fandoms-writings​ @lady-x-red​ @justfic​ @mannien​ @samwilsonsthunderthighs​ @povlvr​

[reallyunluckyrunaway]

sassy zemo is best zemo.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Watching, Waiting... 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, violence, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: There’s a man watching you. 

Character: Bucky Barnes

Note: Hello lovelies. Would love a little extra love with this one as I’m working on the third and final part still.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It’s just after six. The door is locked, the gate is pulled down, and the shop is quiet. 

You do your usual rounds as the evening hue casts shadows through the shelves and gather under the empty tables. You put the chairs up one at a time, placing them legs up, then take your broom to sweep away the errant crumbs and debris from outside. The bristles scratch on the tile beneath the soft drone of instrumental music.

The small tea shop smells of chai and ginger, a medley of other scents underlining the rich aroma. You gather up the dirt in the pan and dump it in the bin of used napkins and wooden stir sticks. You tie up the bag and put it by the back door to toss on your way out. 

You take the misplaced cast iron kettle back to the shelves by the window and return it to sit beside the folded price card. As you do, the yellow hue of streetlights shifts through the glass and you wince, setting down the heavy vessel a bit too heavily. You squint at the silhouette watching through the window, looming just behind the thick bars of the gate.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes meet, his face sharply angled by the gloom of the New York evening. He shies away, caught, and swiftly strides down the pavement. You stare after the stranger, a tugging of recognition in the back of your mind. As little as you could make out, there is something familiar.

A sigh ripples out as you turn and go back to mark off the closing checklist. It’s not unusual for a few stragglers to get curious. Usually, they were pissing against the storefront, but something about him, about the intent of his gaze, the rigidness of his stance set you on guard. He was so casual as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

You close up the binder of daily tasks and slide it on top of the safe and shut the cabinet door. You twist the key in the lock and hang it with the rest before closing the mounted metal case on the wall. You take your time getting your coat and purse, lingering as not to run into the odd observer.

You check your phone. Your place isn’t far from here. Just a block down, a shitty one-bedroom above a pawn shop. Only a tad seedy.

You grab the plastic waste bag and exit into the alley, the metal door clanks shut and locks on its own. You swing the trash over the top of the dumpster and dig out your earbuds as you walk down the narrow alley, the sickly smell curdling in your nose as you try not to breathe too deep. You slip your headphones in as you come out onto the Brooklyn row, your feet carrying you on habit alone.

You crank up your curated playlist, a song you don’t listen to often but don’t bother skipping. You peer into the grim facades of other shops as you pass, all locked down behind grates to keep out the nightly rabble. Your reflection walks with you like a wraith in the glass.

You stop at the light as taxis chuff by and the honking of angry drivers can be heard around the thrumming of music in your ears. You cross and turn your head, peeking out the corner of your eye as you do. An instinctual practice for any New Yorker. There’s a speck there, just behind you. A few steps back, keeping pace with you but not coming to meet you.

You don’t look back completely and take out your phone, pausing your music. You hear his steps, barely. Measured to maintain the distance between you. You veer away from your building and head into the noodle shop gleaming red and orange in the urban mosaic.

Inside, the usual cacophony of voices greets you. You take out your earbuds and let them dangle around your neck. You join the line as the door chimes behind you. You don’t glance back as you wait your turn.

You order and step to the side to await your pad thai. The man who followed you in approaches the till, his deep voice humming and hawing as he tries to decide. You keep your eyes on the menu, too afraid to look straight at him. You might be imagining it, he may just want some noodles.

When your number comes up, you take the tray and thank the cooks on the other side of the steaming woks. You find an empty table against the wall and pull your purse to rest on your lap.

You focus on the food, not hungry until the veggies glisten up at you. You unwrap the chopsticks and pull them apart, innately aware of the figure waiting at the counter. He takes his to-go bag with a gristly ‘thanks’ and his thick treads grit on the floor as he turns. You poke at your plate with the stick and peer over as he nears the door.

All you see is a set of broad shoulders clothed in a grey canvas jacket, dark hair trimmed short and jutting out on top, his gloved hand gripping the door and shoving it open as he strolls out into the street. You watch through the window as he gives a look to the paper bag in his hand, as if considering its worth. 

His straight nose and square jaw gracefully take the dim lighting, his blue eyes catching a glimmer of the shining marquee. You squint and quickly avert your gaze as he looks back at the shop. You shove a twist of noodles into your mouth and focus on your plate.

You feel him there, sense the static heat of being watched. You take another bite, biting through the dangling strands of noodle. You finish half the plate before you dare to look up. He’s gone. You think. You’ll stick around a while before you go. 

Your stomach squeezes painfully with the glut of pad thai and the anxiety of your pursuit. You sit back as the thought strikes you. Was that the same man at the shop? It’s unlikely it isn’t. The silhouette, the steady, certain gait, the ominous hovering of his presence, it’s one and the same.

You exhale and shake your head. It’s just another strange encounter in New York.

🫖

Zinnia lets out an oop before you hear the shatter. You sigh and cringe as you stand and cross the open space of your apartment. Your kitchen floor is littered with shattered glass.

"I'm so sorry–" she looks at you wide eyed and bends to pick up the large shards.

"Be careful," you warn as you go to the small closet and take out the broom, "don't cut yourself."

"I didn't mean to," she says as you fish out an empty box from your recycling and drop it down for her to put the sharp bits in.

"Really, it's fine. I got that one free from the shop," you nudge her away, "I got it."

"Is that why all my gifts are from there?" She gets up with a chortle.

"Mmm, and what about my gifts? Are they still in the mail?" You chirp back.

"Hey… I only missed your birthday once."

"Once?" You drag the broom over the floor as she grabs the pan and holds it flat for you.

"Alright, fine, and what other friends even remember your birthday?"

"Apparently not even you," you scoff as you push the glass into the pan.

She pours the rest of the glass in the box and picks it up. You point her to the counter and she puts it down as you take the pan and clip it on the broom. You leave it against the wall and go back to the couch, flopping down as you scoop up your phone.

"Well, I'm the only one who'll hang out with your boring ass," she mimics you as she taps on her cell, "so, how's work anyhow? Is tea suddenly interesting?"

"It's work," you shrug, "you're hocking dildos and giving me a hard time?"

"Hey, technically my job is to give everyone a hard time."

"Shut up," you elbow her and laugh, interrupted by a sudden rattle.

"What the fuck?" Zinnia sits up and looks over the back of the couch, the window shaking in the frame.

"Fucking fire escape, I think the ladder’s loose or something."

You get up and go to the window. The escape shakes and clatters but you can't see past your floor. You turn the lock and lift the wooden frame so it scrapes loudly. 

"You got raccoons? Or maybe it's a stray?" Zinnia suggests.

You poke your head out as a dark figure flits down the last platform and slides down the ladder. Their feet hit the pavement and stomp off, sending gravel across the alley. 

"Hey!" You call after them, pulse rampant in your tamps at the unexpected stranger. "Hey, what the shit!"

You nearly bash your head as you pull back and turn to face Zinna as she watches over the cushions, "what's up?"

"There was some asshole out there. Took off."

You tramp around the couch, too uneasy to sit down.

"Was he watching us?"

"I don't fucking know," you sniff as you chew your thumb, "you want some coffee?"

"Uh, sure, but we're not gonna do anything about the weirdo out there?"

"He's gone now," you go to the kitchen and take out the canister of grinds, "what are the police gonna do anyway?"

"I guess, but…" she sighs, "yeah, I'll have some coffee."

You focus on loading the filter as you hear her typing on her phone. Suddenly, the noise of a crowd crackles from the speaker. You shut the top of the machine and hit brew. 

You take down two cups and tap your fingers on the counter, "thanks everyone for coming…" the voice drones into the crowds buzz.

"Ugh, he's so fucking hot!" Zinnia squeals.

"Who?" You mumble as you spin to face her.

"Well, both of them, but–"

"Thanks, we couldn't have done it without the local PD," the deep voice distracts you from Zinnia's raving. You hurry forward.

"What? Who?" You demand.

"The Falcon and that Winter Soldier guy," she turns her phone out and you see the square jaw, the stubble, the brilliant blue irises as the man's brows hang darkly over his pensive eyes. "Jesus, you look like you've seen a ghost. Come on, you know who they are."

"Y-yeah, I do, it just… sounded… like someone I know."

"Oh, you seeing someone?"

"Zin."

"Well, who?"

"No one. K? You'd think I was crazy anyway."

"Crazy?" She sits forward, "now I'm interested."

"Really, it's dumb."

"Tell me," she puts her hands together, "please. You know I love drama."

"Drama, no," you throw your hands up, "really, Zin, it's just me being me."

"Alright, you gotta tell me," she hits her phone and it mutes, "do you know Bucky Barnes?"

"No, no… no," you repeat, trying to convince yourself, "it's just at the shop, the one night there was this guy outside. Watching me. It was weird. He left but when I got out, someone followed me. I stopped at Mao's to get away."

You shake your head, it can't be.

"He came in too. Ordered something then left. I heard him, I saw him. The similarity…" you exhale, "maybe I am crazy."

"Watching you? Just that one night?"

"I haven't really seen anyone around but it feels like someone's around. Every time I lock up, maybe it's just paranoia…"

"Trust your gut, girl, you want me to walk you home?"

"Nah, it's nothing."

"What if it isn't nothing."

"Zinnia," you frame your forehead as the heat rises up your neck, "really, it can't be him."

"Doesn't matter who it is," she insists, "what about whoever was out there just now? Did they look the same?"

"I didn't get a good look. And that would rule out the Avenger."

"No, this is a recording," she drops her phone on the side table, "could you imagine? Stalked by the Winter Soldier."

"I'm not being stalked and it isn't him."

"Babe, please, you're scaring me when you should be pissing your pants. There was just some dude at your window and another at your shop. That's not a coincidence."

"Zin," you plead, "stop, you're gonna give me an anxiety attack."

"Good! You needa get your stuff and come stay with me."

"I can't. It's too far from the shop."

"Fine, I'll stay here."

"It's not… that."

"You don't know that," she stands, "and I'm sure as shit not taking that chance."

"Right, stay, you'll see. It's nothing."

"For once, I don't mind being wrong," she frowns.

[kayvsworld]

Imagine that that's how Marvel confirms Bucky as bi; via a SamBucky divorce

hilarious and extremely on brand for marvel disappointments, however please consider: the only way they would ever do this in any reality is if they got divorced specifically because of how straight sam wilson is. bucky's actually an antihero because of the bisexuality <3

[high-functioning-lokipath]

This poll is in regard to Part 2 of the Bucky x Reader miniseries.

The poll will only last 1 day.

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the night trilogy

a/n: oops, i decided to make a oneshot i wrote a few months back into a miniseries because my brain wouldn't stop braining.... enjoy!

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader, ex!peter parker x reader, reader’s mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), forbidden romance, explicit sexual content, total word count is 10.7k

polls for the story: 1 | 2

masterlist | join my taglist 

PART ONE: JUST FOR TONIGHT

PART TWO: NIGHT OUT

PART THREE: STAY FOR A FORTNIGHT

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[scoonsalicious]

A Scoonsalicious Masterlist

All fics are 18+ Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here. I exclusively write for Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader at this point in time, for maladaptive self-indulgent purposes.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

Individual fics will contain individual warnings.

Bucky Barnes

(Fluff 💖) (Smut ❤️‍🔥) (Angst 💔) (Horror 🖤) (Violence ❤️‍🩹) (AU 💞) (1k+ Notes 🏆)

Series

⚜️ The Pocket MCU: ❤️‍🩹 A series of miniseries and one-shot prequels featuring the MC from Unwanted, integrated into the existing narratives of the MCU films. ONGOING (Updated 5/20/24)

⚜️ Unwanted: ❤️‍🔥💔🏆When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn't be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust. COMPLETED 155.4k words (Epilogue Posted 04/27/24)

⚜️ Post-Unwanted: ❤️‍🔥💔💖 A series of miniseries and one-shot sequels set between Unwanted and Unbroken. ONGOING (Updated 11/18/24)

⚜️ Unbroken: An Unwanted Sequel: ❤️‍🔥💔💖‼️ It's a secret, but doesn't that title sound ridiculous?! BRAINSTORMING

One Shots

⚜️ Like a Fairy Tale: 💔💖🏆 Dating Bucky Barnes had been like living a fairy tale, but as he distances himself from you and your relationship, you come to the realization that maybe fairy tales aren't meant to come true. 3.4k words (Posted 3/4/24)

⚜️ Your Choice: ❤️‍🔥💖💞You're minding your own business at home one evening when local police Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes comes knocking on your door. Someone's reported a crime being committed on your property, and the sergeant can either bring you down to the station, or get you off with a warning... it's your choice. 4.3k words (Posted 3/5/24)

Series On Hiatus

⚜️ With Friends Like These...: ❤️‍🔥💔Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntyre never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You. ON HIATUS (Updated 6/17/24)

Upcoming

⚜️ Hunted ❤️‍🔥🖤❤️‍🩹 A plane crash leaves you stranded in the Canadian wilderness with the one person who can't seem to stand you: Your mission partner, Bucky Barnes. You'll have to work together and put your differences aside in order to survive and get rescued. Only, the two of you aren't alone; someone, or something, is watching you from the woods. WRITING

⚜️ Boys of Summer ❤️‍🔥💔💞 Every summer, the wealthy Barnes family escapes the heat of the city to their beach house on the New England coast, and every year for as long as you can remember, your father has been the caretaker of their property. Now your father's gone and you haven't seen Bucky Barnes since you two spent a summer night together when you were eighteen. Four years later, Bucky's returned with a slew of college friends in tow for the ultimate beach summer to celebrate his college graduation, and his recent engagement. PLANNING

[justkending]

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 3/7)

Mini-Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader

Word Count: 2100+

A/N Note: I was typing away for the next chapter to come, so chapter 4 will be posted tomorrow (it will also be longer too)! Thank you again for all the support and love you've shown me for this series :) Love all you guys!

_________________

Bucky’s POV:

Why’d I think she’d be able to handle an adult conversation as soon as I started getting serious? When will I fucking learn?

I waited until Y/N shut her door before I went back out to the living room. She drove me insane, but I decided to keep up the habit of staying up late for her. 

During one of her drunken nights at one of Tony’s galas, she had revealed that she preferred sleeping when someone else was awake. In exposing her reason why, it made me sympathize with her trauma. 

“It’s like having a night watch. If someone else is aware, I can put my guard down. Not that that even happens often enough, but oh well,” Y/N drunkenly swayed the side of her silk dress from left to right as she watched the people on the dancefloor.

I knew the feeling of never being able to fully settle into sleep or relaxation because you’d seen all the horrors in the world. We knew what lurked out there and the consequences of someone getting the jump on you.

So, from the first night here, I would stay up in the living room until midnight, sometimes later. Like clockwork, soon after 11 pm, she’d startle awake from a nightmare. I could hear her breathing and heart rate thanks to my enhancements, and I may or may not have channeled them into her room, given the nightmares she’d had in the past. 

So far, there were none so bad to the point I had to go in and check on her, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tuned in to her room and checking every night in case the tides turned. 

Even on the nights she frustrated me like tonight and made me reconsider why I was about to talk to her about… this. This chemistry that was starting to feel closer to real than fake. A feeling I can’t seem to shake, and now I’m wondering if I’m imagining it. Especially when she can’t seem to turn off her annoyance for me even when I think we finally have met in the middle to some extent.

Then again, I lead on that I don’t understand her when it’s quite the opposite. Her story is not far from most of the people who are recruited into our team. A form of a hostage situation where her choices were taken, and she was conditioned to serve some sadistic asshole until she was freed by her own doing. At least her own variation of that… Anyone coming from that kind of situation tends to bond easily over the trauma. 

Not Y/N though…

I never start by being rude to someone. I mean, I’ve been told I’m intimidating and can come off as a terrifying giant assassin, but people in the same field who have seen far worse don’t tend to take that personally, considering almost everyone I work with knows my backstory and the reason behind my resting-assassin-face. 

But Y/N, for some reason, was very standoffish with me from the get-go. For the first few months of us knowing each other, she ignored me, left the room when I came in, found an excuse for another partner on missions, and a list of other things that quickly made me believe she wanted nothing to do with me. 

I may have reciprocated her behavior here and there, growing her annoyance with me even though I didn’t know where the annoyance had begun. I couldn’t help it, given the nasty looks and pure irritation that steamed off her when she looked my way.

I think the sentiment behind her feelings towards me still stands. But then her comment tonight, “I don’t hate you,” got to me.

I threw the laptop I had tried to use to distract myself again to the side. The TV was on, but all I heard was the patterned thumping in my chest starting to grow. 

“No. I want to know fucking why,” I grumbled, standing up abruptly and stomping down the hall to the master bedroom.

The door was shut, and from how she looked, she may have already tucked into bed for the night, but oh well. We were going to talk this out. I couldn’t go another day trying to decipher these feelings and confusions. 

I heard a “Jesus!” from the other side after my metal arm rapped three strong knocks in the center of the light sage-colored door. I banged again when I didn’t hear movement to follow up with it. 

“Calm down, Paul Bunyan! No need to chop the damn door down. I was seconds from sleep,” she groaned before the door flung open, and she squinted up at me with the hall light bringing brightness to her near pitch-dark room. “What? What is it?” Before I could start my sentence, she tensed and looked around me vigilantly. “Shit. Did something happen?” 

I shook my head quickly and instantly saw her shoulders go back and the grogginess return. 

“I want to talk.” 

She screwed her eyebrows up at me. “Dude. Seriously?” 

“Seriously, dude,” I replied sarcastically, pushing past her into her room, turning on the light, and hearing a protest I was too annoyed to listen to.

“It can’t wait until fucking morning when my brain isn’t at 2%?” she crossed her arms, watching me from the doorway. 

“Be real. Your brain doesn’t go below 75% even when you’re sleeping,” I answered, knowing the reality of never being able to shut off fully. Being constantly aware and on the edge of your seat, ready to pounce. 

She eyed me since it wasn’t a diss, and I could see her debating whether or not it was a compliment. 

“What do you-” 

“You say you don’t hate me, but it sure as fuck doesn’t feel like it. From day one, it has felt the very opposite of that,” I cut her off with a harsh laugh at the end, getting right to the chase. 

I’m standing at the end of her bed, arms crossed, and keeping an intense stare on her. Her stance straightens, and she shuffles her weight on her feet, arms mimicking mine. 

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it,” she said in a guarded tone. “What changed?” 

“I can’t go on with this if I don’t know,” I answered honestly, motioning between us. 

“I argue you have to go on with this either way,” she popped a hip, leaning against the threshold of the door frame. 

“Y/N,” I level my eyes at her, and I can see her take in the seriousness in my features. “Just tell me why.” 

She looks at me with a tilt of her head as if considering her options in how she wants to approach this conversation. 

“We just don’t- mesh well…” she says slowly as if trying to sell it, but even she knew she was lying out of her ass. 

“Bullshit. Try again,” I shook my head once and kept my eyes trained on her. 

“Bullshit? You wanted to know-”

“I wanted to know the truth. You’re selling bullshit, and not very well, might I add. Be honest. Now.” 

She huffed a laugh before blinking at me. 

“We’re the same ranking if you’ve forgotten. Therefore, I won’t be taking commands from you, especially with that tone. But since you’re so hellbent on knowing my reasoning, maybe consider how you talk to me.” She took three slow steps closer to me as she spoke. “So ask me again without being a military servant, and maybe I’ll consider staying civil with you.” 

She is one of a very select few kinds of people actually able to intimidate me. Her story was one to compete against mine. Though not many knew all the details since she was adamant about people being in the dark about it, we all knew what she was capable of. Her enhancements, although similar to mine, were not nearly as strong in most aspects. However, that didn’t deter her from being able to take a man quadruple my size down and keep them there.

I knew enough about her brain to know that it was one of the sharpest ones I had come across in my time. Everyone on the team had enough experience in this life to be able to manipulate a lot of situations, but Y/N was the queen of manipulating a situation to work out better for her and her team. It was like she was five steps ahead constantly, and it could be intimidating at times- not going to lie. A strategy someone in our field would think they had down until they saw her ridiculous efficiency at work. Hence, why she was her own kind of weapon for our team.

I give a single nod in acknowledgment, knowing my intensity would be matched and not work in my favor. 

“You say you don’t hate me, and after these few weeks, I’m starting to believe you somewhat. However, our history keeps me from following that hope,” I answer. 

She seems to take something from my confession and lock it in her mind for later use. 

“Our history is complicated,” she replies, looking me up and down subtly and then moving to the side of the bed where the sheets were disturbed. 

I now notice the detail that only one side of the bed was disrupted while the other stayed perfectly made. My own detail to lock away for later. 

“But why? Who said it had to start like that?” My hands go up. She gives me a look like I should know the answer to that and I raise my eyebrows. “You think I’m to blame for our bickering and aimless fights?”

She scoffs, “I wouldn’t say aimless. There are definitely targets to be hit.” 

“Cut the shit.” 

“No shit to cut,” she counters quickly, sitting on the edge of the bed with one leg under her and shrugging. 

“I’m trying to have an adult conversation, and you’re acting like an angsty teenager.” I deadpan, attempting to keep the twitch in my eye at bay.

“And you’re acting like a crotchety old man who demands my respect,” she shouts back. “Ever think maybe that could be the reasoning behind our never-ending feuds?” 

“How could I? You don’t talk to me unless you're dissing me, fighting me, or attempting to make me look bad,” I give a large fake smile. 

“Take a fucking hint then, Grandpa,” she enunciates her curse. 

So I do. I backtrack our conversation and come to a conclusion. Maybe it's not an accurate one, but it's an idea nonetheless. 

“You think I demand respect from you? When have I ever told you that you have to have respect for me?” I asked, more confused than angry now- but definitely not low in anger either.

She stares at me, contemplating her answer. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t get into this,” she waves between us minutely, diverting her eyes to the bathroom door on the wall to the left.

“I won’t be able to sleep tonight if-”

“Not much different than most nights. Welcome to the crew,” she huffed, shifting to adjust her blankets over her in an irritated mood. 

“Why are you so against talking this out?” I growl, forgetting all sense of mental clarity and stomping to her side of the bed, aggressively throwing her blankets off her. “Stop trying to go to bed and talk to me like an adult.”

“An adult?” She takes in a high-pitched breath and stands straight in front of me. “You’re the one who just threw my blankets off like a toddler throwing a tantrum because he didn’t get a cookie after dinner! Sorry to break it to you.” Her finger jabbed into my chest. “But I owe you nothing, Barnes! I owe no explanation. I owe no respect. I owe no reason for how I choose to act around you.” 

I was pissed. Royally pissed, and yet… I couldn’t seem to see past the pure sadness in her eyes. The actual pain that she tried so hard to hide, but in her state- the state I had put her in- she was losing the battle. She was losing it and yet not breaking her eyes from mine, knowing I could see it.

My intensity shriveled slowly as seconds passed, and she didn’t try to fight the tremble on her lip. 

“What did I do?” I asked softly, my hands instinctively coming to her arms, but the touch made her break the eye contact and turn fast, making my hands drop. “Y/N, what did I do?” 

And I meant it. What had I done, and how could I change it?

Marvel Tags:

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Mr. & Mrs. Hunt Series:

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[captainsimagines]

🎄 New Holiday Series ✨

Yes, I am writing a mini-series this holiday season. Yes, it is Buckyx(Fem)Reader. Yes, it will be published all at once, before Christmas.

It is the “Pretty Woman” fanfic you’ve all been waiting for, with a mix of fluff, angst, and tear-jerking love confessions. This new mini-series is rated 18+ for sexual content, triggering content (past Hydra physical and SA abuse), and heavy PTSD.

Like I said, it’s angst. Hurt/Comfort. Reader is a consensual sex worker and Bucky hires her to get used to touch again. It’s another healing journey we’re taking. I find it healing for me to write as well. ❤️

If you would like to be tagged, please comment down below or message me. You will be tagged in the Masterlist.

It will be published this month. 🤗

So excited for this one. I really hope you are, too. ❤️

[burningfudge]

Black Widow, Winter Soldier, and WinterWidow reading list

I made this list for another post, but I thought I'd put it here too.

Black Widow (1999) by Devin Grayson - Natasha's first solo. It's only three issues, and it's the start of modern Black Widow. It introduces important aspects of her character, like the Red Room. Yelena is introduced for the first time.

Black Widow (2001) by Devin Grayson - Another three-issue comic, which I thought was a fun read. It's a Natasha, Yelena, and Matt team-up comic. It's a part of Marvel Knights, which told more mature and darker stories so I have a soft spot for the 1999 and 2001 runs for this reason.

Black Widow: Pale Little Spider (2002) by Greg Rucka - Another three-issue comic. While not focused on Natasha, it's a Yelena solo. It's part of the Max comics line, which was an attempt to tell adult-only stories, and it definitely shows because Yelena visits a bondage sex club. A very important comic for Yelena.

Black Widow: Homecoming (2004) by Richard K. Morgan - I think this comic was extremely influential for modern Black Widow. A lot of her mythos originated from this comic. The movie took a lot of inspiration from this comic as well, like the pheremones thing.

Black Widow: The Things They Say About Her (2005) by Richard K. Morgan - This one is decent. It's not entirely important, but I think it's worth a read. A classic Black Widow story where Natasha is on the run and doesn't know who to trust. While it's overdone at this point, I think this was the first comic to portray it. Yelena and Matt show up in this one too.

Captain America (2005) by Ed Brubaker - VERY IMPORTANT. Bucky is reintroduced as the Winter Soldier and shows up in #1. While it's long, every issue is worth it. Natasha doesn't show up until #27, but #27-#50 is peak buckynat. This run is one of my fav comics of all time.

New Avengers #48-64, Annual #3, Finale (2005) by Brian Michael Bendis - Natasha isn't super important in this, and she barely shows up, but Bucky shows up frequently. I wouldn't say it's entirely important, but it's during Bucky's time as Captain America, and when he interacts with the Avengers, so I recommend it just for that. Also, I'm a little biased because New Avengers (2005) is probably my favorite comic ever.

Black Widow (2010) by Marjorie Liu - The best Black Widow story ever written. I don't think anyone has disliked it. 10/10, I always love to reread it.

Black Widow: Deadly Origin (2010) by Paul Cornell - A miniseries about Natasha's origin. Not entirely important, but it's a solid Black Widow story. Appearances from Bucky and Wolverine.

Captain America #600-619 by Ed Brubaker - Again, it's very important for both Bucky and Natasha. It's a continuation of Captain America (2005).

Captain America & Bucky #620-624 (2011) by Ed Brubaker - Pretty important. It's a retelling of Bucky's life. #624 is all about buckynat and how they met. A lot of iconic buckynat content that the fandom gushes over is in it.

Widowmaker (2011) - Not super important and Bucky isn't in it. A fun team-up story about Clint and Natasha with Bobbi. I enjoyed reading it.

Winter Soldier (2012) by Ed Brubaker - I cannot tell you how much I love this comic. It's the best Bucky's ever been written and I don't think anyone will disagree when I say that no one has ever understood Bucky like Ed Brubaker. Extremely important for buckynat.

Winter Soldier: The Bitter March (2014) by Rick Remender - I'm not going to lie; I don't really remember much from this comic, but I know people like it.

Black Widow (2014) by Phil Noto & Nathan Edmondson - Another popular comic for Natasha. It's probably my second favorite Black Widow comic after Liu's. Another Black Widow is on the run story, but Liho is introduced in this! Bucky is in #8, 15, 17-18. A must read.

Bucky Barnes: The Winter Soldier (2014) by Ales Kot - This isn't my favorite, but the art is absolutely beautiful. I don't think it's essential. Natasha is not in this.

Black Widow (2016) by Mark Waid - I enjoyed reading this comic. I'd rank it third after Liu and Noto. Bucky is in #9-10. Essential Black Widow comic.

Tales of Suspense #100-104 by Matthew Rosenberg - A Winter Soldier and Hawkeye team-up where they look for Natasha after she was killed by Hydra Cap in Secret Empire (no need to read it; SE is trash). A fandom favorite, and I absolutely love it. Winterhawk exploded in popularity after this run.

Winter Soldier (2018) by Kyle Higgins - Natasha does not show up in this, but it's very important for Bucky. It's a short five-issue miniseries, and it's probably the best Bucky has been written since Brubaker.

Black Widow (2019) by Jen and Sylvia Soska - It's a miniseries, and it's a fairly dark one. Natasha is back from the dead, and she's PISSED. Bucky doesn't show up in this one, but Steve does, and it's after her murder at Hydra Cap's hands.

Web of Black Widow (2019) by Jody Houser - Another Natasha miniseries where she's on the run and her friends are worried about her. Bucky shows up in #2 and #5.

Falcon and Winter Soldier (2020) by Derek Landy - A fun team-up comic with Sam and Bucky. Natasha doesn't show up. Not essential.

Black Widow (2020) by Kelly Thompson - It's...not great. Many people have already talked about what they didn't like, so I won't go over it, but it has some fantastic buckynat moments. However, I will say that I really love Natasha, Yelena, Clint, and Bucky teaming up in this comic. That group together is highly entertaining. It doesn't seem like anything from this comic will be paid attention to in the future, but I would still read it.

Captain America: Sentinel of Liberty (2022) by Jackson Lanzing and Collin Kelly - Really trash. I didn’t like this at all. Bucky isn't written well, and I think Natasha shows up like twice. Skip.

Captain America: Cold War (2023) by Jackson Lanzing and Collin Kelly - Another trash event. Skip.

Thunderbolts (2023) by Jackson Lanzing and Collin Kelly - Buckynat FINALLY get back together after they broke up in Winter Soldier (2012). A boring comic otherwise.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Watching, Waiting... 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, violence, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: There’s a man watching you.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Note: Hello lovelies. Would love a little extra love with this one as I’m working on the third and final part still.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Delilah minds the counter as you go through the bin of new arrivals. You sit on the short square stool as she rings out customers and steeps fragrant herbs at request. You rest the price cards on your leg as you write out the flavour and price per ounce in neat print. The task is mindless and calming amid the afternoon rush.

“What were we offering as samples?” Delilah asks as she goes to the shelf and shakes a large canister, “was it the apple spice?”

“Blueberry mint,” you say as you rub your brow, furrowed in concentration. “You wanna switch out?”

“No, no, keep doing what you’re doing,” she says as she grabs the right container, “it’s not too bad.” She turns back and plunks down the canister, greeting another customer as they step up. “Hello, how are you today?”

There’s a lull of consideration, “fine,” the response comes with a deep inhale, “do you have any recommendations for… sleep?”

You stiffen as you recognize the timbre. No, it isn’t. He wouldn’t. Besides, it wasn’t him. The stranger couldn’t be Bucky Barnes. You glance up and find him peeking over at you as Delilah turns to consider the shelves.

“Chamomile is always good,” she drones as he watches you. You turn and cap the marker, gathering up the bin and the stack of cards. “Lavender, we have a citrusy one you might like…”

You carry the stock around the counter and refuse to peek back. It’s definitely him, the Winter Soldier, but you’re still not convinced it’s one and the same as your mysterious shadow. The man outside the window, and outside the noodle shop, your mind could just be filling in the blanks. 

You just can’t believe an Avenger would do that. And you’re not that special. You’re not special at all.

The buzz of the shop surrounds you, easing you into your work, shifting products to set out the boxed sachets of tea alongside cups and pots. As you rearrange the measuring spoons, you sense someone beside you. 

It’s him. You act like you don’t notice as you focus on tidying the display. He turns a teapot on the shelf, examining the ombre of blue and grey as he leans in.

"You like this one?" He asks but you act like you don't hear him as you reach in the bin. "Hey, I'm asking you."

You blink and swallow as you dare to peer up at him, "sorry I… must've been off in my mind." You look at the pot, his gloved hand on the lid, "it's nice, I guess."

He hums and nods, pulling his hand away. He runs his finger along the shelf and bends his knees so he's at your level as he browses the lower levels. You place a price card in front of the row of clearance pumpkin spice chai.

"How about this one?" He takes the green pot with the humming bird stamped in gold, "you like it?"

You purse your lips. It's the same one you have in your cupboard at home. You shrug, "it's cute, but what do you like?"

He watches you and mouth twitches. You turn back to your work, an eerie ripple tickles your neck. Just stop thinking. He’s being friendly. And it’s your job to help customers, isn’t it?

"You're right," he puts the pot back, "hm," he stands and sighs, "too much to choose from."

"Uh, yeah, you could mix and match cups with a pot," you suggest as you carry on stocking.

He says nothing as he continues his perusal. Turning up cups as he considers each. His leg almost touches you and you peek up. He isn't looking at the porcelain at all. His blue eyes beam down at you without pause, even as you catch him.

You drop your chin and clear your throat. You gather up the bin and the remnants of packages. Standing is a task as your legs shake nervously, doubt and fear tingling on your cheeks. Your denial is drowned in a tide of dread.

"You recognise me, don't you?" He chuckles, "it's okay. I'm used to being gawked at."

"What?" You stammer and take a step away.

"You don't gotta pretend. Your co-worker couldn’t keep her jaw in place–"

"Oh, uh, yeah I've seen you on TV or whatever. Just wasn't sure," you admit, "anyway, I gotta go help Del."

"Sure," he says dully, "thanks for the help."

You try not to run across the store, weaving between tables with your armload and plopping it behind the counter with a puff. Del pushes down the lever of the hot water jug as she steeps a new cup for a customer. You tidy away the errant herbs across the counter, keeping your back to the shop.

Delilah rings out the customer and welcomes the next, "you again?"

"Figure I need something for the tea," the clink grinds against the counter and makes you wince as you pretend to reorganize the canisters of loose leaf.

"Oo, pretty," Delilah trills, "I like the flowers."

"Yeah, uh, I don't got much taste but my lady will like it."

"Oh my, a lady," you hear her flirty smile.

"Yeah, uh…" his voice trails off, "how much?"

She goes through the motions of checking him out, payment, do you want this wrapped? A bag? Don't wash with soap, okay?

You busy yourself with refilling the water dispenser until he's gone. Del comes up beside you and leans on the counter, elbow bent onto the laminate.

"So, the Winter Soldier likes tea? And has sleep issues?" She kids.

"Hm?" You don't look over as you click the large jug back on the warmer.

"And he has a girlfriend? I haven't heard anything about that. Maybe I should call TMZ."

"Del," you scoff.

"Joking," she huffs, "what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, just working."

"Hiding?"

"From who?"

"I don't know," she puts her hand out, "but you're quiet."

"Compared to you."

"Well, sure," she accepts begrudgingly and pulls away at the approach of another customer, "don't forget to check the tables."

You nod and wait for her to prompt the customer before slipping into the back. You hide behind a stack of boxes and pull your phone out of your apron. Your hands are shaking, you didn't even realise.

'Hey, can you meet me after my shift?' You type out after several attempts.

'Sure, what's up?' Zinnia’s reply pops up swiftly.

'Nothing, just wanna grab dinner omw.'

You slip your phone back in your pocket and tilt your head back against the wall. You don't know why you're lying. Well, you don't believe it, that's why. You're overreacting. And he said it himself, Bucky Barnes has a girlfriend. He's not following around a tea shop assistant.

🫖

Zinnia shows up as you're rolling the gate across the front of the shop. You let her in before you lock it and slip through the front door to secure that too. She wanders around the empty shop as you go through your closing duties.

"Yall got any cannabis tea?" She asks.

"There's some behind the counter but it tastes like shit," you roll your eyes.

"Teasing."

"Sure," you finish sweeping and dump the dirt in the bin. "Just gotta toss this and we can go."

"So dinner? I walked two blocks for what exactly?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, let's go to Mao's."

You tie the top of the bag and she squints, "what happened?"

"Nothing," you lie as you haul up the bag, "will you grab my purse?"

Her brows arch and she scoops up your bag. She follows you through the back and you let her out first into the alley. You swing the bag into the dumpster and stumble back from the weight of it.

"Something happened."

You exhale and take your purse from her, "Zin, really, just… a coincidence."

"Coincidence?" She crosses her arms.

"Can we get out of this trash heap," you wave the stink away from your nose, "really, it's not a big d–"

You spin and suddenly, you're flung into the brick wall. The wind is knocked from your chest as your back slams hard and your legs fold beneath you. You wheeze as the dark figure plows through Zinnia and she hits the metal fire escape with a startling clang. Her cry is cut short by the impact.

She coughs as she crumples onto the tarmac and is once more grabbed and hurled against the dumpster. You quiver as you gulp for air, the stench curdling in your mouth and flooding to your stomach as Zinnia sprawls over the rubble and loose garbage. You get to your hands and knees, leaving your purse behind as you crawl towards her.

“You were supposed to be alone…” the gravelly tone sends shivers up your spine.

You know it’s him. You know his voice, his shadow, and his single leather glove.

Your attacker, a man you know, a man you can't mistake, the man you can no longer deny, hops up to latch onto the metal escape and lifts himself onto the platform. You squeak as each move sends a throb through your ribs and you inch towards Zinnia. Bucky disappears with echoing steps as you focus on the woman strewn on the pavement. 

Your disbelief hazes your vision as Zinnia's breathing rises in rattles. Her eyes are shut as her arm juts out at an unnatural angle. You feel along her jacket and fish out her phone, swiping to the emergency call screen. You croak as the line dials.

She was right but you didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t listen to her. It’s all your fault.

You keep your hand on Zinnia as the line picks up, your voice rattling from your throat.

“I need help…”

🫖

You sit in the sterile room, still shaking, fumbling with your phone until you have to put it down. There’s nothing to see there. Nothing to keep you distracted from the steady beep of the machine. Zinnia’s pulse plucking in the silence.

On the other side of her bed is a curtain shielding you from the next patient. They don’t seem like they’re in much better shape as the nurse comes often to check their vitals. Still, Zinnia hasn’t woken up.

You grasp the bedrail and watch her. Her face is swollen on the left side, her head wrapped in lengths of bandage, her arm set in plaster. Compared to her, you got off easy. Bruised ribs.

You don’t understand why he did it. Why her? If he’s after you, why would he hurt her like that? You cup your mouth with your other hand and hold in a sob. You can’t even help her now. She’s laying there, helpless, and you can only sit there and cry.

The police took your statement. A farce. You’re not stupid enough to think they’ll believe you but you gave a clear description of your attacker. Bucky Barnes. To a tee. Who knows what they’ll do with that? They almost seemed amused as you recounted the scene. Bunch of young girls out after dark, tut tut.

You don’t know what to do now. What does he want? Is he coming back? Is he going to hurt her again? Or you? Why you? Of all people? None of it makes any sense. You just don’t get it.

Why did Zinnia have to be the one? Why did she have to be in this bed hooked up to these machines? Why? Why? Why?

The questions do nothing but bubble up your anxiety. You hold Zinnia’s hand and lean against the bed rail, focused on the rise and fall of her chest. She’s still alive but how can you live knowing you’re the reason all this happened. As unwitting as you are, you ignored her warning, all the alarm bells, and you just let him do this.

Your phone vibrates, jarring you from your mournful daze. You squeeze Zinnia’s fingers and let her go. It can’t be that important. It’s late. Past midnight.

You get up and muffle a groan at how your back pangs from your stiff perch on the stool. You pick up your phone, the battery in the red. There’s several junk emails that you flip away and some reminders to get your daily bonus in some word game or another. Under all that is a single message.

There is no number, just ‘Private’. You have a bad feeling as you press your thumb down and the conversation pops up. You stand and stare at the message, eyes glazing with tears as you read it over and over.

‘She won’t get hurt again. Mao’s. One hour.’

[buckyismybicycle]

AAAAAAAAND we're finally done with this one!

Chapter 3/3 is live!

Written for @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer, Week 7: "Who's this?" - My Pet

Thank you to everyone for the love, support, reblogs, and screaming 💗 You are all very much appreciated!

Title: the (pineapple) contract - chapter 1/3 Rating: Explicit Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes/Escort!Reader (F) Tags/Warnings: Big Dick Bucky Barnes, Top Bucky, Dom/sub Undertones, Confident Bucky Barnes, Oral Sex (by that I mean Bucky eats you out like a starved man), Praise, Pet Names, Painful Sex, Crying/Crygasm, Multiple Orgasms, Coming Until You Black Out, no beta we die like thanos Summary: Well, the contract said Personal Care Attendant and technically, the Winter Soldier wasn’t on the active roster. Yet. But the point still stands. He more or less owned you now.

You take one last deep breath before knocking on the door.

Part of the "Bucky Barnes As..." series & Hot Bucky Summer 2023

hosted by @buckybarnesevents Week 3: "Where do you want me?" Kneeling | In My Lap | Bent Over

We'll be back for Week 6 (Chapter 2) and Week 3 (Chapter 3)

>>AO3 Link<<

The cheque in your hand has far too many digits in it — you’ve never seen two commas in the number, made out to you of all people. Hell, you wouldn’t have cared what the hell the job was, you would’ve said yes anyway.

You just never imagined that trying to pick up Tony Stark on Park Avenue would be a job interview.

“Name your price,” he had said.

You probably would’ve slept with him for zero, but when you had jokingly said a million dollars, you never thought he’d actually follow through. First came the NDA, then the contract and benefits package, and now…

Now, you stood outside a dull-looking door trying to calm yourself down about the fact that you were about to whore yourself out to an Avenger.

Enclosed for your review is a copy of your job description, benefits package, and the corresponding appendices. Should you wish to accept this offer, your contract and a questionnaire are emailed for your review and return. Upon receiving your executed contract and completed questionnaire, should your answers be compatible, we will reach out to schedule your start date.

Well, the contract said Personal Care Attendant and technically, the Winter Soldier wasn’t on the active roster. Yet. But the point still stands. He more or less owned you now.

You take one last deep breath before knocking on the door.

The man that opens it is not the man from the online articles and archives. He isn’t long-haired, dead-eyed and clad in murder gear (because there really wasn’t any other word for it). No, the person that stands in front of you is seemingly flawless, the sunlight from his windows surrounding him in a glowing warmth.

He quite literally takes your breath away.

“Can I help you?” He finally asks, shifting his weight ever so slightly.

Right. You clear your throat, offering your hand as you introduce yourself.

He studies you intently, his eyes obviously tracking you from head to toe, but doesn’t say anything else as he shakes your hand firmly. “Bucky,” he responds in kind.

“I’m, um, I’m here because…” Oh god, what if he had no idea?

He quirked an eyebrow up at you.

“I’m here as a… As your personal care attendant?” As soon as you say the words, you feel silly. Your cheeks start to flush, but it’s nothing compared to what he says next.

“Then you’re late, kitten.”

(4) Your duties will include, but are not limited to (a)Providing thorough, attentive care to the client within reasonable allowance, even outside of those covered in (5). (b)Receive and follow instruction from the client within reasonable allowance, even outside of those covered in (6) (c)Commence reasonable care should the client require it at your discretion, without infringement of (8)(a), (b) or (c) (4)(c)(i)The term “care” will include, but is not limited to… (ii)Psychological care as set out in Appendix I (iii)Domestic care as set out in Appendix I (iv)Physical care as set out in Appendix I, II and III

It was very evident that he wasn’t expecting you to take care of him so much as take care of him. His apartment was spotless, though the lack of furniture and possessions might be the biggest reason.

“So. You know what this entails.” It comes like more of a statement than a question, but admittedly, that does a lot for you. You looked at him, cross-armed and leaning against the back of his couch. Tugging at the bottom of your dress, you tried to remember how to simply act normal and nod, a little less shy, slipping into your role with a little more ease.

“Yes, sir.”

There’s a look of amusement on his face, so you make a note of that.

“Hard limits?”

“None,” you answer quickly.

“I find that hard to believe,” he fires back. “Everyone has limits.”

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking about his, though he reads your expression well enough.

“I have too many to list,” he says. “Which is why I prefer to just control the situation.”

God help me. It sounded too good to be true, that maybe — just maybe — he was made for you.

Or you were made for him, at least. His pleasure.

“That sounds good to me,” you say all too brightly. “Sir.”

He smirks at that, and you’re absolutely done for.

“You don’t have to keep calling me that,” he tells you, beckoning you to follow him. “Though I do like it.”

You decided right then and there that you would do pretty much anything with him. For him.

“So, about those limits —”

“Knife Play,” you blurt out once you reach his bedroom. “That’s — that’s the only one I don’t think I can do.”

He turns and gives you a look. “Why, because I’m the Winter Soldier, you think I’m automatically into knife play?”

“OH MY GOD!” You exclaim, slapping your hands over your mouth at your blunder. “No! No, oh my god, that’s not what I meant!”

You’re about to grovel at his feet when he starts to chuckle softly.

“Relax,” he says easily, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “That’s fine. I’m not gonna throw you into the fire just yet.”

Yet. You’re not sure if that was meant as a threat but it sounds more like a promise if you’re being honest.

“I can handle more than you think,” you say, pursing your lips.

“S’that right?”

The challenge in his voice has you nearly quivering and you’ve barely even started. You give him a little shrug before nodding, trying to give as good as you got.

“C’mere here,” he coaxes softly, hand outstretched. It’s stunning, the black and gold, intricate and precise — more sophisticated than anything you’ve ever seen.

You take it and ease yourself down on his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his hands far gentler on your waist than you thought they could be. The blue of his eyes is even brighter this close up, light with mischief and wide with wonder as he looks at you, like you were something to be discovered, explored.

“Safe word still pineapple?”

Looks like he read your questionnaire after all. You nod again, the energy thrumming just under your skin as his hands slowly travel up your sides and back before ending up at your neck. He can probably feel your small shudder or your thundering pulse. At the very least, he can certainly see the goosebumps forming under his fingertips.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

With that, he claims your lips, your body, your very existence as if it was his only goal. And god, does it work.

There is no part of you that doesn’t immediately belong to Bucky at that moment. His tongue parts your lips and moves confidently as he devours you, taking you apart. Each swipe of his tongue is firm and purposeful — designed to steal your breath away as his hands map out your body.

You can’t stop the gasp that escapes against his lips or the way your body tenses in his arms, muscles coiled to try and stop yourself from just dripping all over his lap.

It takes you far too long to realize the game you’re playing — well, that Bucky’s playing. You’re simply along for the ride as he catalogs all your reactions from each shiver of your body to every moan and shaky breath you let out. Within a few minutes, you’ve already revealed all your cards without even knowing that’s what you’re doing.

You’re embarrassingly short of breath when he pulls back to survey you.

“You make such beautiful sounds,” he says, nonchalant as if your heart rate wasn’t skyrocketing.

“You’re a damned good kisser,” you respond/

He gives you a cheeky grin that would’ve made your knees buckle if you weren’t seated on him. “You’re not so bad yourself, sweetheart.”

You run your hands up his chest, marveling at how firm it was. For a brief moment, you forget who he is and just touch. As your fingertips roam upward, you memorize the arch of his clavicle that leads to the dip in the hollow of his throat underneath his Adam’s apple.

You shift slightly, getting ready to slide off and sink to your knees to service him.

“Like what you see?” He asks — except this time the cocky tone has a softness to it that you're not sure he even caught. As if there was just a bit of something behind that seemingly unshakable confidence.

“Yes,” you answer simply with a smile. “I really, really do.” It’s true, after all. He wasn’t just handsome, wasn’t just pretty, there was something about him that was so alluring, you found yourself forgetting your contract almost entirely.

It’s the right answer, apparently, because he flips over to lay you down in the center of his bed, throwing your plans to kneel for him right out the window.

You’re suddenly acutely aware of just how much bigger he is than you. He’s an imposing figure, there’s no arguing that, but when he had first invited you inside, it hadn’t been your focus. Now, with the cool, soft sheets at your back and his thighs settling between yours, you feel like trapped prey to the king of the jungle.

You knew that a serum pumped through his veins that made him infinitely stronger, but your history books always said that the serum wasn’t like Captain America’s. It didn’t shoot him up nearly a foot and slap on nearly 150 pounds.

No, these are all muscles that he had to work for and train for, that he has to maintain. The very same muscles that pressed against the inside of your thighs as he settled in above you, dwarfing you.

“Okay?”

It catches you by surprise. Really, you were his property, he owned you, and could do whatever he pleased with you. That’s what you had signed up for. Ever since signing all those papers, you had braced yourself for the worst of it — after all, you’d come across plenty of people who only ever wanted to assert their power over you because of what you were and what you did.

So this? The pause, the way his eyes search yours for a truthful answer, the way he asks so tenderly? All unexpected when what you thought you would receive was something harsh, sharp, and as cold as his moniker suggests.

From here, looking up at him, though? He looks like an angel. The overhead light isn’t too bright ad the soft, warm halo of light makes him ethereal — all smooth skin and eyes like the sky.

“Very okay,” you reply, your cheeks unusually warm. You don’t get flustered anymore — or so you thought. Wrapping your hands around the back of his neck, you urge him closer, eager to kiss him again.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs as he closes in. This time, he kisses down your neck instead. His teeth softly graze against your skin every now and then as he makes his way to the centre of your chest.

That’s my girl. You don’t know if that’s just his sweet talk or if he’s finally asserting his ownership of you. Either way, it gets you all worked up, especially when his hands join his mouth in their exploration of your body, gentle but firm as he gropes at you.

By the time he reaches the hem of your dress, every inch of you is covered in goosebumps.

Expecting him to rip it off, your breath catches when he simply sits back on his haunches and runs his hands up your thighs. They disappear from sight under your dress but you can certainly feel their presence, skin hot and metal slightly cooler.

Your legs spread for him so easily it’s almost laughable.

(10) You are expected to carry out your duties with discretion, professionalism and a high level of enthusiasm. Criticism will not be tolerated.

“Pretty girl, are you already drippin’ wet for me, hm?”

You’re almost afraid to speak, knowing full well that a bunch of embarrassing noises are pent up inside you right now. Where you wish Bucky was right now.

You take a deep breath in. “Yes, sir.”

He gives you a look — a fond one that most people give their pets — and it inexplicably makes your heart race.

“You don’t mind if I have a little taste now, do you?” He asks, fingers already curling around your panties and tugging them down.

“Please,” you let slip, waiting for him to lower himself to the mattress.

Instead, you yelp when he suddenly hauls your lower half up by the hips. You figure you must look like quite the sight, tits jiggling with the movement as you find yourself nearly suspended with your legs slung over his shoulders.

You don’t even get the chance to speak before he lowers his mouth and makes your entire body come alive for the first time in ages.

“Oh!” You cry out, hands gripping the first thing they can find: his thighs.

He chuckles against your cunt, tickling you in the most intimate sense while your fingers dig into hard muscle.

Your legs automatically tense up, ankles loosely locking behind his back as he keeps working your cunt, tongue gliding up and down your folds easily. His tongue is a wicked thing, a sin all on its own, as it draws the most guttural sound out of you

Seemingly satisfied that you’re secured, he runs his hands up your thighs and slips behind to knead your ass, large hands cupping you perfectly.

“Bu…”

You lose your train of thought when he slips his thumb inside of you, tongue following closely, fucking in and out shallowly. “Oh god, fuck, fuck!”

“Sweet as honey, baby,” he purrs, licking a long stripe up to your clit and sealing his lips around it. His other arm wraps around your hips to support you through the involuntary spasms that wrack your body as he circles his tongue around you, torturously slow to draw every last breath out from your lungs.

“W-wait,” you pant out, flushed and warm all over. “This should - it’s about you —

The corners of his eyes wrinkle slightly as he smiles deviously, the coarse hairs of his scruff tickling you.. “Oh, it is, honey. I'm enjoying myself just fine.”

To prove his point, he presses his hips forward and along your back you feel a faint, long, thick heat.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, imagination already running wild with how good that’s going to feel inside you.

“Gettin’ there,” Bucky quips, returning to his task.

He’s diligent about switching between suckling you and curling that sinful tongue of his, flicking it over your clit just firm enough, just slow enough, that every drag feels like it’s breaking you open.

You feel yourself unraveling, like a runaway spool of thread and you desperately trying to hold on, hands clamoring for purchase as your body comes undone.

“Bucky!” You cry out, hands grabbing onto the arm wrapped around your waist. You’ve never whined the way you do right now, trembling in Bucky’s hold as he slows his movements, giving you just a moment of reprieve.

The look in Bucky’s eyes is predatory as he waits for you to regain your breath before giving you a final, harsh suck, teeth grazing over the sensitive nerves that nearly makes you come again just from that.

He finally lowers you to the mattress — a trembling, flushed mess — before undressing himself. It’s almost clinical, without fanfare, and that just doesn’t seem right to you when he’s unrevealing such beauty. As he strips, revealing all that gorgeous, smooth skin, you try to sit up even if you felt like your entire body was jello. You just wanted to reach out, to touch, and you were so enraptured by him, by his body, that when your eyes finally roamed south you gasped.

“Holy shit,” you blurt out. You think back to when Bucky originally asked you “like what you see?” not realizing just how much you would.

Your hand has never looked smaller than it does right now, wrapped around Bucky’s monstrous cock, hot and heavy against your palm. Subconsciously, you lick your lips as you watch precome starting to bead at his swollen tip.

You keep your grip firm as you give him a full stroke and your eyes drink in the sight before you — Bucky’s face, lax with pleasure, and the minute twitches of his muscles at your simple touch. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s been intimate with someone — if that’s why you were offered so much money to be for his personal, constant use.

“Your cock is gorgeous,” you tell him, hand getting used to the weight and length of it. “Want this inside of me, right now.”

Bucky’s face morphs into something even hungrier. He lowers his hips, cock nearly scalding against you. For the first time, his voice sounds less than perfectly in control. “I can’t catch or carry anything.”

You already knew that from the massive package of paperwork.

“And I can’t get you pregnant.”

You knew that, too, but again he sounds so clinical about it, you wonder if it bothers him at all.

“Yeah, handsome,” you nod, smiling dopily. “Rawdog me.”

Bucky makes a sound like a cut-off laugh, and you can’t help but feel victorious when a smile breaks out on his face.

“You’re somethin’ else, sugar.”

There’s a shift in the air, the both of you settling into each other like you’re not two absolute strangers as he presses his body to yours, cock sliding over your tender clit and across the slick of your folds.

You wrap your legs around him and dig your heels into his back as if to say c’mon, c’mon! Hurry up!

You thought you were ready. You’ve never had this issue before. But as Bucky starts to nudge the head of his cock in, you inhale sharply, your body immediately tensing to reject the intrusion.

He pauses to pull back and look at you.

“Sorry,” you say in a hurry, nervous and embarrassed by your reaction. You bring your hands to the side of his face trying to show him that it’s nothing he’s done. “You… You’re just, um…”

His eyes narrow slightly, eyebrow furrowing as he goes to pull away.

“Wait!” You keep your legs firmly wrapped around him, trying to trap him even though you were no match for his strength. “It’s not you. Well, sort of. It’s just that… You’re fucking huge, Bucky. I’ve never…”

His eyes widen in surprise, evidently not expecting your answer though you don’t miss the way his cock twitches between your legs. Then his look softens and he kisses you sweetly — more tender than anyone’s ever kissed you before.

“Roll over for me,” he commands gently.

As you do so, you watch him open the nightstand and to your relief, pulls out a bottle of lube. Natural instincts take over at that point — you prop yourself up on your knees, spreading them until you’re comfortable, and keep your chest to bed, arching your back.

He makes a pleased sound behind you. “Lookit you, babydoll. Bent over and spread open for me like a good girl.”

Your toes curl slightly at his words and your whole body tightens when you feel his fingers slip into you, the lube cool against your heated cunt.

“Relax, princess,” he coos, his other hand trailing down your spine. “Be a good kitten and just let me open you up, alright?”

You’ve lost the ability to form words so you nod against the sheets instead as you will your body to relax. Soon, you forget about your mission to take Bucky’s giant cock and start to lose yourself to the feeling of Bucky's fingers inside you. They’re just as talented as his tongue, expertly navigating all your sweet spots, some of which you didn’t even know you had.

“God, you feel you so good,” you groan, fingers curling in the sheets, clinging on for dear life.

“Oh, we’re jus’ getting started, baby.” His other hand returns to your near-overworked clit and you’re dangerously close to coming again.

You turn to look over your shoulder, intending to stop him. Instead, you jolt as he gives your cheek a lovebite, beard scratching against your ass while he curls his fingers inside you and pulls the orgasm from you. Your back arches as you scream out at the unexpected whirlwind of pleasure that travels through every vein of your body.

“Shhh, sh, you’re alright, sweet thing.” His voice is low and soothing.

You want to tell him that you’re more than alright, that you’ve never been pulled apart like this, that you’ve never come just from someone’s fingers, that you’ve never seen such a fat cock in your life. But all you can do is nod frantically, panting as your body comes down from the high.

“Think you’re ready, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. You let out a breathy moan as you reach back blindly for him. “Yes, Bucky, yeah. Gimme that perfect cock of yours.”

While you can’t see his expression, you hear a soft huff from him before the head of his cock is at your eager hole again. You feel him give himself a few pumps, slicking himself up with more lube, taking the time and care not to hurt you.

This time, you’re ready for it. As he enters, you exhale, your muscles loosening to let him in.

More than just let him in — welcome him, pull him in, making yourself the perfect fucking home for his cock.

“Goddamnit, sweets,” he murmurs, lowering his chest to your back, the cold metal of his dog tags on your spine. “Y’feel like a dream.”

“You’re one to talk,” you manage to gasp out, eyes scrunched as all of your attention is focused on the delicious stretch.

He brushes your hair to one side and for a moment, all you do is look at each other in the moment.

You reach out to trail your fingers along his wrist and he goes to press a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“M’gonna move, ‘kay?”

In lieu of a response, you clench down on him and grin when he hisses at the sensation.

“Watch it…” The low rumble of his voice only spurs you on, so you do it again, this time wriggling underneath him.

“C’mon, Bucky, please won’t you fuck me?” You taunt, your voice coy. “Put that fat cock of yours to use, huh?”

There are no words this time, only a soft clicking as you watch in fascination while his arm calibrates ever so slightly. You think you hear him mutter “you asked for it” but you can’t be sure because your own cries fill the room as he pulls back a few inches and thrusts back into you.

“This what you wanted?” Bucky growls before he gives your ass a light swat.

“More,” you beg him, despite the twinge of pain as your body tries to adjust and accommodate Bucky’s girth.

Bucky must read it as a challenge because he doesn’t go easy on you — after a few long, controlled thrusts, he must deem you ready.

You’re not sure anyone could quite be ready for the ravaging storm that is Bucky.

He fucks you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to fuck anyone — determination and desperation wrapped up in superhuman stamina and strength. Without a doubt, you know you’re going to walk away with bruises — on your hips from where he grabs you, your thighs and ass from where he slams into you.

“Sh-shit,” you curse, panting into the sheets that you’ve bunched in your fists. Your hair sticks to your neck with the sweat building as your body tries to keep up with the assault. “So fucking - good, Bucky. Your cock feels so good — splitting me in half.”

Bucky makes an animalistic noise in his throat, yanking your hips back to him as he plants his hand beside your head, arm anchoring you in place.

Oh, fuck. As anticipated, he rails you within an inch of your life — you’re struggling to breath, heaving for air, and your eyes are scrunched shut to stop the tears from actually spilling.

“Okay there, sweetheart?”

Fuck him for not even sounding out of air. “Ssso goo-ood,” you slur, a litany of gasps and moans follow. “Love — that you’re — tearing me apart.”

Bucky’s voice is positively gleeful. “Yeah? You like getting fucked so hard you can’t even keep your eyes open?”

You make a conscious effort to crack an eye open and fire back. “Yeah. Fuck, you’re so deep I can feel you in my throat.”

“That can be arranged, honey,” he teases, hauling your hips up for an excruciating angle that makes you come so hard your vision turns white.

“Fucking gorgeous when you come,” he praises and you can’t formulate the words to reply.

“Ah, ah, nnngh, ah, f-fuck,” you babble, vision blurry as you tear up. It hurts but it’s beautiful, it’s brutal but controlled. It’s fucking perfect. You’d tell him just that, if had any air left in your lungs.

The last thing you hear is Bucky’s voice shushing you and telling you to rest before it all turns black.

[sleepypanda27]

Strangers In The Night (Miniseries?)

Bucky Barnes x reader AU

Summary: You meet a handsome stranger at a bar.

Words: 1,085

You went to a bar, you had frequently visited in the last few weeks. You went there not because there would be the best drinks in town, no, not even close. It was because of this one tall, mysterious, handsome stranger you had laid your eye on. You had seen him only two times before, but it was enough to fall for him.

There was something intriguing about him that pulled you to him like a magnet. He made you feel things only with his smile alone and the way he looked at you, making you wonder how else he could make you feel in different ways. You hadn’t talked to him yet, but you wanted to.

What you didn’t know was that he was interested in you too. The first time he saw you, you were there with your friends. For a second, he thought you smiled at him, but he wasn’t entirely sure you were saying goodbyes to your friends and already leaving. Since that night, he came there every friday night waiting, hoping you would show up. His usual spot at the bar and the same drink, occasionally throwing glances at the entrance, waiting for you to show up again, walking through the door, making the time around him stop.

He was convinced that you were the one he had waited for his whole life.

Tonight was his lucky day. After waiting for about two hours, he thought about leaving, but then he lifted his eyes from his almost empty glass and saw you sitting across the bar from him. How hadn’t he noticed you sooner? He couldn’t help a smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth, seeing you smile at him.

He didn’t know you, but he thought you could understand him. He had never felt like this about anyone. This was a new exciting sensation. It was scary and thrilling at the same time.

Downing the remains of his drink, he gathered all the courage he could muster and made his way to you. His heart beat in his chest like crazy.

“Hi, there.” He greeted you with a warm smile.

“Hi,” You smiled back.

“I noticed you are drinking the same poison as me. Are you copying me?” He placed his elbow on the bar counter, leaning against it.

“Maybe you are copying me?”

“Touché. Can I buy you a drink?” He asked. When you agreed, he ordered two drinks, one for you and one for himself.

“Look, I was just trying to drink here, but you are very distracting.” He smiled cheekily, taking a seat beside you on the free bar stool.

“Me? How am I distracting you?” You smiled in amusement, placing your chin on your hand, giving him your full undivided attention.

“By sitting here, all beautiful and mysterious. Driving me insane over there.” He pointed at his previous seat. “Couldn’t take it anymore, I had to come over here and talk to you.”

“How many times has this line worked for you?” You felt warmth flowing to your cheeks. The pickup lines were cheesy, but it worked for him.

“Quite a lot, actually.” He chuckled.

“Seriously?” Your brows raised in surprise at his bold answer.

“No,” He laughed. “I don’t usually do this.” He admitted, running his fingers through his short hair. You wanted to do it so badly, brush your hands through his locks, pull him close to you, and kiss until… “So, what’s your name, besides beautiful?” He asked, breaking you out of your daydream.

“Y/n.” You chuckled at the cheesy line.

“Pretty name for a pretty lady.”

“I can't believe you just said that.” You laughed, making a face. “And what's your name? Or am I supposed to call you Mr. Handsome?”

“Bucky, but you can call me whatever you like." He winked a spark of mischief crossing his stormy blue eyes. "Sorry about the bad pick-up lines.” He apologized, adorably crinkling his nose.

“They weren’t that bad.”

“Oh yeah? Then prepare for the ultimate pick-up line.“ He grinned, leaning a little closer to you. “What does a place like you do in a girl like this?” He asked, twirling his glass between his fingers.

You burst out laughing.

"Oh, no..." He realised his mistake. "I meant, what does a girl like you does in a plase like this?" He shook his head in emberesment. "There goes my chances."

“Well, that was something I haven't heard before. Drinks, mostly.” You didn’t want to confess to him straight ahead that you were there because of him.

“Hmm, mostly?” He seemed intrigued by your answer. “I have a feeling there is something more to it.”

“Haven't decided yet.” You winked playfully, hiding behind your glass as you downed your drink.

A couple of drinks in the conversation was flowing effortlessly. You talked about some usual stuff people talk about to know each other better. You found out that he only recently has returned to New York, where he had lived most of his life. He decided to move back since all his life was here, and he missed it dearly.

“I’m going to be completely honest here, I’m here only because you are here. I almost lost my last hope tonight and went home, but then you showed up.” He said, looking through his lashes.

Your heart skipped a beat from the way he was looking at you, and you accidentally knocked over your empty glass, quickly catching it before it rolled down the counter.

“Looks like someone’s quite buzzed.” He observed, offering you a paper napkin, which you took to clean your hands and the counter, wiping the few drops of liquid that spilled from the bottom of your glass.

“I’m not drunk. I’m just intoxicated by you.” You cooed, you didn’t feel drunk, you felt sober even.

At this point in the night, the bar was almost empty. The couple at the other side of the bar, on their countless drink, whispered something to one another. The bartender polished glasses, occasionally glancing over the room. Quiet music played in the background.

“I know, I’m a stranger you just met at a bar, but do you want to get out of here?”

“Yes.” You nodded, already standing up and taking your jacket from the back of the chair.

“Your place or mine?” He asked, taking your jacket from you and holding it for you to put on.

You thought about it, considering all the options. “Your place, but with one condition...”

[high-functioning-lokipath]

Bucky x Reader Miniseries (Title TBD)

This will be a series of 10, unrelated, drabble/oneshots for Bucky Barnes x Reader. I'm working on a better title for this little series. I've been struggling with...well...a lot of things...but I want to get back to writing and hope this series will get those creative ideas going!

Hope you all enjoy it! Below will be the masterlist for this series...each prompt will be linked when written and posted!

1. The day started gloomy, not quite letting on what beautiful things could happen on a day like this.

2. "Hey! Wait for me please!". They stopped dead in their tracks, their breath shallow and wondering why that voice still made them feel this way. 

3. Meeting the love of your life in a police station does not make for a good story to tell the grandchildren, but definitely an interesting one. 

4. The alarm clock woke her up from a very lovely dream. 

5. She hurried over the busy streets, slaloming between honking cars, four large cups of iced Coffee balancing in her hand and she should have kept her eyes up in order to prevent what was about to happen.

6. The dark brown eyes were the first thing he noticed. 

7. Day in, day out, it was always the same time, same place, same people and he was used to this implicitly agreed upon order of things. 

8. Later they would say it was love at first sight, but both knew it was a long road they had to take to get here. 

9. With all the drama in the morning, she did not expect her day to get any better. 

10. He liked watching her, when she was in her element the confident beauty she radiated.

[nickfowlerrr]

series masterlist

part one • part two • part four • part five

happy golden days of yore • 3

pairing: dark!bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. 18+ ONLY. future parts will contain noncon smut. 40s misogyny? pet names. masturbation. i’m just gonna say, reader is detrimentally non confrontational 🫣.

words: 2.9k

notes: so glad you guys are enjoying this miniseries! there’s only a couple parts left and i’m really excited to share them. 🖤

You awoke to the smell of bacon and coffee floating through the air and 40s jazz music playing from downstairs. You never would have thought Bucky Barnes was a morning person, but it’s not like you knew him at all. You grimaced at the memory of your lost thong and decided to try and sneak around the living room before you went into the kitchen. You got ready really quickly in the bathroom before you snuck downstairs as quietly as you could.

You moved all the cushions, pillows, and your throw blanket but couldn’t find it anywhere. It wasn’t on the stairs, or under the couch, or still in the laundry basket. You had no idea where else it would be.

“Looking for something, sweetheart?” Bucky’s voice startled you as you were on your knees, in a slightly compromising position with your ass in the air, looking under the couch one last time. You sat right up and turned to him, surely looking like a deer in headlights.

“Oh, I just thought maybe I left something down here last night,” you tried to explain without having to really explain.

“What is it, I can help you look?”

“It’s nothing, really, I-”

“Tell me,” he instructed.

“It’s just..an article of clothing,”

“What does it look like?”

“It’s black…”

“That’s descriptive,”

“It’s not a big deal, honestly,”

“Why are you being so skittish?” he asked, eyes narrowing. You got scared all of a sudden, more worried he was thinking you were up to something than anything.

“I’m not, it’s just-...I’m looking for my thong,” you told him.

You avoided eye contact for a moment but when you risked a glance at him, his face was blushing a light pink.

“Oh,” he responded, a lopsided nervous smile breaking out on his face before he schooled his expression. “Well, uh, I haven’t come across it, but if I do, I’ll make sure to..return it.”

He spun on his heels to walk back into the kitchen as you grimaced at yet another not so great encounter.

“Coffee’s on if you take any,” he offered as you passed through the doorway.

“Thanks,” you replied quietly before grabbing a mug.

“I hope you don’t mind I used some of your groceries,”

“No, not at all, feel free,” you assured him. “I brought plenty.”

“And I hope you’re hungry, food’s almost done,”

“Yeah,” you breathed, “smells great.”

“How’d you sleep?” he probed, almost too casually.

“Alright. Woke up once or twice, but,” you trailed off. “How about you?” you asked back politely.

“Best sleep I’ve had in three months,” he acknowledged.

“Three months?”

“I’ve been gone for work since September. Most of my sleeping, the little I got anyway, was done on jets, motel beds, or couches.”

“Sounds grueling,”

“I’ve had worse,” he brushed off as he set a plate down before you. Two pancakes with some of your berries on the side, some bacon, and an egg.

“Thank you so much,” you beamed. “This looks amazing. What time did you get up?” you asked as you glanced at the time to see it was only nearing 8:15.

“I’m usually up by six, habit I guess,” he answered as he sat down with his own plate. Of the three other chairs at the table, one on each side, he took the seat next to you rather than the one across. His build was big and the table wasn’t, so though it seemed a good enough distance to prevent it being awkward, he still felt really close.

You simply nodded in response before looking down at your plate. You took your fork and cut into the stack of pancakes and prayed to any being that was listening that they would be good. You weren’t the best at hiding your initial reaction to things and you knew he was watching you take that first bite.

You were pleasantly surprised at the fluffiness. They were warm and buttery and your eyes closed in tantalizing delight. You couldn’t have stopped the small, sweet moan that you made if you wanted to.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as your lashes fluttered open, your eyes meeting his intense ones, nearling drowning in the blue before you looked away and back down at the food. “These are incredible. I never would have pegged you for a chef, but wow,” you complimented.

He laughed then, a beautiful sound you would’ve admired if you weren’t still slightly hung up on the look you swore you caught in his eye just a moment ago.

You ate breakfast with a much chattier Bucky than you’d met the night before. He asked you a lot of questions; what you do for work, where you live, what you do for fun, hobbies, friends, even asked about your relationships. He was quite the smooth talker, which you really weren’t expecting. There was this easy charm about him that made him seem disarming. It was almost hard to believe this was really once the man known as the Winter Soldier. Though every now and again, this look came over him. Almost imperceptible and always fleeting, but you couldn’t ignore it once you noticed. Something dark was lurking within him. Whether that was just the presence he gave off, if you were being biased because of what you knew he did for work, or if it was really there in him, you weren’t sure. But the weather was supposed to be clearing up by tomorrow, so you wouldn’t be sticking around to find out.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After breakfast, you went upstairs to get some alone time. That was the main reason you had come to the cabin in the first place, to just get away from everyone and everything. You pulled your laptop out and decided on a movie to watch while you packed most of your things away. You wanted to be ready to go in the morning. You were fine leaving the decorations, the food, and the few items you had in the kitchen, you had your own stuff at home.

There was a knock on your door and you paused the movie and walked to open it. Unsurprisingly, you found Bucky on the other side.

“Long time no see,” you joked.

“Would you mind not having your door shut all the way?” he asked bluntly. You were slightly taken aback by his change of mood, but didn’t want to upset him any further than you apparently already had.

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, no problem,” you acquiesced.

He stood a lot taller than you and it was easy for him to look into the room behind you. He furrowed his brow when he saw one of your half packed bags on your bed before shooting you a questioning look.

You were really taken aback now, totally lost as to why he was looking at you the way he was.

“Going somewhere, doll?” he asked. There was an edge in his voice that was clear despite his attempt to hide it with a closed lip smile.

“Yeah, the uh, weather’s supposed to be cleared up by tomorrow so, I’m just getting my stuff packed,” you answered uneasily, attempting to hide your discomfort with a smile of your own. You only hoped yours wasn’t as see through as Bucky’s.

His tongue jutted out past his lips as he took in your answer before he nodded. “If you need help taking anything to your car, let me know.”

“Okay,” you breathed with a nod in return as he turned to walk away. “Thank you,” you added, watching him descend the stairs.

His behavior had you worrying you were being rude, but you couldn’t justify staying in his cabin for another three weeks just because he said he didn’t mind. It felt weird. You tried to shake off the feeling and returned to packing more clothes.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the day passed pretty quickly. You stayed upstairs for the most part but went down for food and water every so often. You heard Bucky coming in and out of the cabin a few times, but had no idea what he could be doing out there. It was possible he was getting more logs from the wood shed but he wouldn’t have had to go in and out as many times as he did if it was just that. You figured it wasn’t really any of your business, though and carried on with yourself.

You seemed to have a hard time with the thought that maybe he was upset at you. It was odd because that feeling wasn’t a common occurrence in your life. You didn’t normally care what people thought of you, but the idea that you had bothered this guy so much was getting to you.

When you’d made yourself lunch, you made him a sandwich, too. He was doing some kind of work on his tablet while he sat on the couch in the living room. You set the plate down on the coffee table that was in front of him while you held yours in your other hand.

“I don’t know if you’ve eaten or not yet, but,” you started as you pushed the plate toward him. He looked over from his work to the plate and then up to you, almost surprised before a charming smile grew on his face.

“Thanks, sweetheart. That’s thoughtful of you,” he said appreciatively.

You smiled back before you headed to the staircase, feeling slightly better about the tension that you felt was so evident earlier. You were clearly reading into things.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You pulled the pan of chicken from the oven as the timer on the stove began ringing. The smell of Italian herbs filled the air as you set the baked chicken to rest. You’d just finished the mashed potatoes and the broccoli was ready to go, too.

You hadn’t planned on making another dinner tonight, but Bucky came by your room and asked you if you wouldn’t mind and you just couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You didn’t want to be rude and it was your last night here. Plus you figured you wouldn’t be cooking like this again for a while, you couldn’t remember the last time you had cooked this much for yourself since you had moved out on your own.

You assumed the timer going off prompted Bucky to head to the kitchen because he appeared shortly after. You served both of you and sat down at the table once you got the glasses of water.

“So, uh, I’ll probably be heading out early tomorrow,” you began as you cut into your chicken breast.

“So you said,” he replied shortly.

“Right. I don’t know if you’ll be up when I leave, so I just want to say thank you, again,” you looked up at him, almost shy, nervous. The energy shifted yet again at your mention of leaving and he seemed a bit peeved.

“You mentioned John would come up here in January, did you want to set a date?” you asked, treading lightly.

He looked at you then, thinking for a moment before he spoke.

“I’ll call you,” he answered stoically.

“Okay. I’ll write my number down before I go,”

There was a tense silence between the two of you as you continued to eat.

You were growing more and more uncomfortable until Bucky cleared his throat, taking a sip of water and swallowing hard, sucking his teeth before he spoke.

“So, you have plans when you get home?” he asked, causing you to look up from your plate to him.

“No,” you shook your head, “not really.”

“Just tryin’ get out of here as fast as you can, huh?”

“Wha- no. It’s not - I’m not,”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I get it, you don’t have to explain. All alone out here with the one time Winter Soldier. Doubt many would’ve stayed as long as you have already,”

“Really, Bucky. It’s not that. You seem like a really great guy. I just, I know you said you like your solitude, and I do, too. And I hate feeling like I’m intruding in your space. I think it’d just be better the sooner I go,” you tried to explain without offending him again.

He nodded softly as he averted his gaze, something akin to sadness swimming in the depths of his blue eyes. The apparent vulnerability had you rethinking what you’d thought about him previously.

“Well, thank you for dinner, doll. It was delicious,” he said as he stood from the table, taking his nearly empty plate to the sink before you heard him head upstairs.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself under your breath, feeling absolutely awful.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You finished up in the kitchen after Bucky left and made sure to clean up the mess from dinner. You found a scrap piece of paper and wrote down your name and number before putting it up on the fridge with a magnet. You went upstairs and did one last go over your room, making sure you had everything ready to go in the morning. You grabbed your towel and a pair of pajamas and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower before you went to bed.

As you stood under the warm water, washing the suds of soap off your body, you thought you heard a creaking from the other side of the bathroom door. You peeked your head past the shower curtain and saw who you could only assume was Bucky’s shadow passing under the door frame. You quirked a brow, wondering where he was going but didn’t give it much more thought as you returned to finishing up under the water.

As you were drying off with your towel, you cursed under your breath as you realized you’d forgotten to grab a bra and a clean pair of panties. You bit your lip as you considered just running across the hall with your towel wrapped tight and pjs in your arms or just putting your pjs on and forgoing the undergarments completely. That wasn’t a problem for you normally, in fact it was a slightly common occurrence, but regrettably, the sleep shirt you’d grabbed was near see through and if you ran any risk of bumping into Bucky when you ran to the room, you’d rather it be in your towel than with your chest on display.

You finished drying off as best you could before rewrapping the towel around your body. You held your pjs under your arm and opened the door to scurry to the room, only to bump directly into a waiting Bucky.

His hands came out to steady you and you felt your skin warm beneath his touch.

“Oh my god,” you floundered as you gripped your towel tighter.

“I’m sorry, doll. I was just about to knock and ask if you needed anything taken to your car before I went to bed,” he explained, hands still holding you.

“I think I got it,” you chirped, just wanting to move past him already. You moved to sidestep him and only then did he drop his hands. You tried to ignore the way he had been looking at you from the moment you bumped into him. Heavy and dark. As you scampered past him into your room you could still feel his gaze on your curvy, rounded figure.

“Good night,” you called as you entered the room and turned to shut and lock the door behind you.

“Night, doll,” he said quietly as he watched you still.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You only woke up once during the night, but the reason why was more disturbing than it had been the night previous.

You had left your door just barely ajar and put one of your duffle bags right behind it before you went to bed. You didn’t think Bucky would come into your room while you were sleeping or anything, but the night’s earlier encounter just had you feeling a little more vulnerable than you’d already felt.

Still, with the door partially open you could hear all the weary creaks of the cabin and the bumps that sounded from out in the hall. And with Bucky’s own door open, the noises from his room easily made their way into yours.

You thought you were imagining things at first, but the more awake you became, the more clearly you heard the sound of barely restrained grunts, and the wet squelching noises that only seemed to get rhythmically louder in sync with them, coming from across the hall.

Your heart was racing as you realized what it was you were hearing.. As you realized what it was that Bucky was doing.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to roll over without causing the bed to squeak under your weight.

You tried to tell yourself it was only human. Everybody does it. Who were you to judge what someone else does in the supposed privacy of their own bedroom in the middle of the night. Still, the thought of his eyes on you, his heavy gaze trailing up and down your body the way it did - the way it had even when he first saw you…there was something a little too intense there. It wasn’t right to assume things about people, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that your image might be somewhere in his thoughts as he got himself off.

You pulled a pillow over your head as you laid on your side and, gratefully, fell asleep sooner than you thought you’d be able to as you tried to ignore the strangled moan that sounded from across the hall and the odd sensation it sent through you before the near silence of the cabin returned.