#limo Bachelorette Parties | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ovaryacted · 2 months ago

Note

pervy old man logan save me pervy old man logan save meeeeee

─ Pervy! Old man Logan Howlett x fem! reader || WC: 1.4k

CW: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Age gap implied [Logan is canon age, reader is 21+]. Bit of flirting (if you squint). Logan is a little pervy (duh). Wandering eyes. Panty stealing. Panty sniffing. Upskirting. Lewd thoughts. Bit of voyeurism. Teasing. Hints of degradation. Use of pet names (hun, darlin', princess). Mutual Masturbation (sorta). Groping. Clitoral stimulation. Possible dub-con at the end (reader is under the influence). Mentions of reader's clothing: skirts, dresses, sexy attire due to working at a club. Reader is hinted to be a little naive.

Be soooo glad that I love you. (And I do, very much). This is for the real ones that just want to fuck that nasty old man, and this is a bit different than what I usually write, but I had a thought and I ran with it. Hope you all enjoy this little crazy piece!

pervy! old man Logan who finds you working as a bottle girl in a downtown club after he drops off a bachelorette party, drawn to you when you step outside for some fresh air on your break. While chatting with him, you rant about your unfavorable living situation, and he proposes you take the spare room in his apartment under the guise of convenience and keeping you safe. You take it, not thinking of anything besides getting much-needed help

pervy! old man Logan who doesn’t mind having you around in his apartment. You’re quiet, neat, and not to mention a sight for sore eyes. He finds his gaze wandering over your figure when you walk around the space you share with him. Of course, he does that when you aren’t paying attention.

pervy! old man Logan who wakes up a bit early to make some coffee and breakfast for the both of you. He stands over the stove and gestures to your mug on the counter filled with freshly brewed coffee made just the way you like.

pervy! old man Logan who converses with you in the morning, asking how you slept and your plans for the day. He uses it as a good excuse to look at your chest, the stiff peaks of your nipples poking through the material of your baggy t-shirt.

pervy! old man Logan who approves of the skimpy outfits you wear for your work shifts at the club. Your attire consisted of latex shorts and tight bodysuits that leave nothing to the imagination, and he’s always looking at you, ready to give you the praise and approval you seek.

“Yeah darlin’, it fits like a glove. Turn around for me, gotta get the whole view.”

pervy! old man Logan who drives you to and from work for your shifts. Late at night, he waits for you outside and leans against the side of his limo, smoking a cigar as he does. When you step out and stride towards him with a sway in your hips after a good shift, you lean against him for a hug. He follows through, squeezing your waist with one arm, fingers almost sneaking towards your ass.

pervy! old man Logan who looks at your thighs shifting as he drives. His palm itches to touch your skin, to squeeze you hard enough to bruise and leave his mark. But he refrains, tightening his grip on the steering wheel instead.

pervy! old man Logan who watches you change from the gap of your bedroom door, ogling at your bare back as you walk around your room, finding something to wear. You finally turn, giving Logan a nice view of your bare breasts, nipples stiff from the cool air. He can feel his slacks getting tighter just from looking at you, his mouth craving for a taste of you.

pervy! old man Logan who offers to help put on your shoes when you’re wearing dresses or skirts. He’ll place your foot on his thigh and tie your heeled boots while your hands are on his shoulders for balance. He doesn’t mind helping you out so long as he gets a good glimpse at the underwear you’re wearing for the day.

pervy! old man Logan who teases you and plays with the edges of your clothes frequently. You’ll walk beside him doing grocery runs or passing by him when you reach for a cup in the overhead cabinets in the kitchen. He takes it as an opportunity to intentionally lift your bottoms to prove how provocative your clothes are. Blatantly whistling at your ass coming to view, you smack his hand away and grow flustered. He only chuckles at your reaction.

“C’mon, hun. You don’t gotta get all shy on me. It’s not my fault these skirts are just too damn short.”

pervy! old man Logan who takes your panties when he’s doing the laundry, admiring the thin pieces of fabric you concealed under your clothes. The first time he found your underwear in his batch of laundry, he ran his fingers over the gusset, bringing it up to his nose and taking a whiff. He stuffs the pair into his pocket, saving it for later to wrap over his length when you’re asleep.

pervy! old man Logan who knows you get yourself off in the late hours of the night or early in the morning when you think he’s sleeping. He can hear you through the thin walls of the apartment, his heightened senses working overtime to catch the muted whimpers you release as you touch yourself. He tries to imagine what position you’re in, if you were completely naked or still had your underwear on, lying on your back or your face smushed into the pillow, arching your spine. He brings a hand cup himself, jerking off in tandem to your moans, wishing it were your fingers curling around his cock instead.

pervy! old man Logan who brings you home after you’ve had too many drinks at work, a result of serving a bachelor party and keeping them entertained with tequila shots. It paid off. You got a hefty tip at the end of the night, evident from the giddy expression on your face when you exit the front doors. Logan is waiting for you outside the club like usual, holding your figure steady against him as you giggle into his chest from your wobbly steps.

pervy! old man Logan who keeps a hand on your knee the entire drive back to the apartment. You didn’t seem to mind it this time, staring off into the window and watching the streetlights pass you. Humming a tune to yourself, you glance at Logan when his hand drifts higher to your thigh, offering a squeeze and receiving a sweet smile in return.

pervy! old man Logan who “helps” you get comfortable once you’re both home. You don’t say anything when he tugs your clothes away, stripping you of your shorts and tights, your top coming off next. You have half a mind to tell him you didn’t need his help, he knows you can handle yourself, but all he does is give you a toothy smirk.

“Easy. Just trying to make sure you’re taken care of. I always take care of you baby, don’t I?”

pervy! old man Logan who takes off your bra and flings it to the side, leaving you in your undies. You look up at him, slightly in a daze, taking in his rugged appearance. His large hands are on your hips, keeping you upright as your breathing grows uneasy, warmth coursing through you along with the alcohol you consumed.

pervy! old man Logan who steps closer to you, chest to chest, hovering over your body and listening to your heart beating in your ribcage. His textured palms begin to roam, running down your spine and reaching to cup your ass, kneading the flesh between his fingers. You whimper, gripping Logan’s button-down shirt to ground yourself.

pervy! old man Logan who places one singular kiss on your shoulder and another on your neck, biting your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to come out. Here you were, tipsy and left to his mercy, panties beginning to stick as slick blossomed between your legs. All the touching, teasing, and toying around from the man who’s cared for you is now coming to fruition. Maybe you should be a little worried, but somewhere along the way, you stopped giving a shit.

pervy! old man Logan who grins widely when you lean further against him, releasing a quivering exhale when his fingers slip between your thighs, rubbing your clit through the lace that covered you. He groans at the feel of how wet you’ve gotten for him, the specific pair of panties he’s touching was a personal favorite he’s “borrowed” a few times before rewashing them. Your core throbbed under his touch, lifting your head to stare at him, pupils blown. He could feel the blood in his body rushing south to tug at his groin, the bulge you felt at your lower stomach growing harder with every passing minute.

“How about you give your old man a kiss and let him play with you a little? Doesn’t that sound nice, princess?”

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x fem!reader #old man! logan #old man logan #logan howlett x you #logan howlett xmen #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett #hugh jackman #logan xmen #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #tw dubcon #ovaryacted drabbles #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

925 notes · View notes

acelimoliny · 2 years ago

Text

Get Luxurious Long Island Limo Service at the Best Price

Ace Limousine is the largest Luxurious Limousine provider in Long Island, New York and specializing in Proms, Weddings, Wine Tours, Bachelor/ Bachelorette Party, Corporate Travel, Night out on the town, Sweet 16's & Quinceanera's, Birthday Celebrations, Sporting Events/Concerts and more

Our reservation specialists are here to help you in planning and arranging Best Limo Service in Long Island for your special occasion. We also offer numerous Long Island Limo Services that can be customized to meet your specific needs to ensure you arrive at your destination in comfort and style.

Why Choose our Long Island Wedding Limousine Service?

Ace Limousine is a family-owned operated company that has been in business since 1967. We have been providing the best Wedding Limo Rental in Long Island for over 50 years and we take pride in providing the highest quality wedding limousine services in the area.

Reliability: When you make a limo booking with Ace Limo to celebrate an occasion, you can be 100% sure that the Limo and chauffeur will be at your place on time. Our experience chauffeurs are extremely well-versed with the routes and have their way around the traffic, which can help you arrive on time to wherever your destination is.

Comfort: While riding a limo, you get to enjoy an excellent level of comfort, luxury, and relaxation. The seating, air-conditioning, snacks, beverages, alcohol, etc., inside the Limo can make your journey more fun and exciting.

Affordability: Limousines that seat at least 4-6 people cost less than $100 per hour. If you are hiring a limo for a party or prom night, you and your friends can share the total cost of a limo rental. This way, you get to enjoy the best level of luxury for a relatively smaller price.

So if you’re searching for a luxurious and stress-free wedding transportation solution near Long Island New York, look no further than Ace Limousine. We’ll take care of everything, so you can enjoy your special day!

Find a limousine that suits your needs at https://acelimoli.com/fleet/ or Call Ace Limousine at 516-232- 5556 to book your Wedding Limo in Long Island.

#Bachelorette Party Bus long island #Best Limo Long Island #Best Limo Service Long Island #limo company long island #Long Island Limo Rental #Long Island Limo Service #Long Island Limousine Service #Long Island Party Bus #Long Island Prom Limo #Long Island Wedding Limousine #Party Bus Rental Long Island #Party Bus to Jones Beach #Prom Party Bus Long Island #Rolls Royce Rental Long Island #Wedding Limo LI #Wedding Limo Long Island #Wedding Limo Rental Long Island #Wedding Limousine Long Island #Wedding Transportation Long Island

1 note · View note

limoinpalmbeach · 3 months ago

Text

Choosing the right chauffeur for your Palm Beach charter limo can significantly impact your travel experience.

Read more👇

https://www.limoinpalmbeach.com/what-should-you-look-for-in-a-palm-beach-charter-limo-chauffeur/

#sedan in palm beach county #party bus palm beach #palm beach wedding limo #palm beach party bus #palm beach night out limo #palm beach birthday limousine #palm beach bachelorette party limo

0 notes

limokingnewyork · 2 years ago

Text

Get the Affordable Bachelorette Party Limo Packages in Long Island, NYC

Limo king is considered to be one of the best companies for providing Limo Rental service in Long Island over 30 years. We have been providing Limo and party bus rental service since 1687. Limo King New York offers the bachelorette party limo vehicle to accommodate any budget and passenger group size.

Are you planning your bachelor or bachelorette party in Long Island, NYC? then look no farther than Limo King New York. Checkout our fleet of chauffeured vehicles and reserve one or more for a bachelorette party in Long Island, NYC. For more information, visit us at Limo King New York.

All our luxury fleet vehicles are meticulously maintained to be safe and clean. Our limo drivers are courteous, prompt, professional in appearance, and highly knowledgeable of the Long Island, NYC Area.

Places to Have a Bachelorette Party in Long Island.

There are quite some incredible places on Long Island that are more than perfect for a bachelorette party. Below is a list of some:

Gurney’s Inn Resort and Spa:

Swallow East:

The Chocolate Duck:

Our Long Island Limo Services:

Proms

Weddings

Wine Tours

Bachelor Party

Corporate Travel

Night Out

Sweet 16’s

Birthdays

We can help you put together a package that will fit your budget. Your dream bachelorette limo party is only a mouse-click or a call away. Call for an appointment to book our limousines at 866-259-8123 or You can also email us at [email protected]

#Best Limo Long Island #Prom Limo Long Island #Prom Party Bus Long Island #Long Island Prom Limo #Limos for Prom Long Island #Prom Party Bus #Wedding Limo Long Island #Party Bus Companies Long Island #Party Buses On Long Island #Bachelorette Party Bus Long Island

0 notes

limorentalnyc101 · 4 months ago

Text

Elevate Your Bachelor or Bachelorette Party with Limo Rental NYC

Planning a memorable bachelor or bachelorette party in New York City? Let Limo Rental NYC take your celebration to the next level with our top-notch limo transportation services. Whether you’re hitting the hottest clubs, enjoying a night out with friends, or just exploring the city, our luxury limousines ensure your party is nothing short of spectacular. Why Choose Our Bachelorette Party Limo…

View On WordPress

#Bachelorette Party Limo Transportation #bachelorette party limo transportation services #bachelorette-party #Hourly Car Service #limo #Limo Rental NYC #New York hourly limo #New York hourly limo and car service #New York wedding transportation services #NYC Limo Rental #travel

1 note · View note

nycpartybusrental1 · 11 months ago

Text

Tell us your needs, and we will help you choose the right vehicle and prepare each detail for your wedding day, birthday party, bachelorette party, prom party, school trip, sporting event, business meeting, or company outing.

#nyc party bus rental #limo coach bus #limo vans #wedding transportation rental #birthday bus rental #bachelorette party

0 notes

loving-barnes · 4 months ago

Text

LOGAN HOWLETT - FIX YOU

A/N: Guys, it's happening! It's here! Old man Logan story for you! I don't know if you'll like it. This is what I always imagined after seeing "Logan" movie. I am a sucker for happy endings, I guess. Let me know what you think. I tried my best.

Pairing: Old man Logan Howlett x Mutant! female reader

Warning: angst, some fluff, nudity, extremely light smut

Words: 6800+

Important notes: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine | Inaccurate information from the movie. I just wanted to write my own thing, so just be aware of that.

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - FIX YOU (OLD MAN LOGAN)

Shitty year. Shitty life. The only thing that eased the pain and his thoughts was the booze. He was able to get drunk. Fucking finally. No one stopped him from the liquid poison. Why would they? No one was alive. Everyone was dead, under the daisies. Sniffing them with their skeletons. All thanks to Charles. Now, that old senile fuck wouldn’t die no matter what. Fucking telepath.

Logan threw another empty bottle on the dusty ground, snarling as he limped back to the driver’s seat of the limo. His phone had been ringing for some time now. It meant another job for him. He took a minute to collect himself to look at the notification. He hoped to call it a day. That dream died sooner than his appetite for alcohol.

One passenger, long ass drive around El Paso. Fucking rich people that don’t know what to do with their money, he thought. Last night, he drove a bunch of drunk chicks from a bachelorette party, showing him their tits. At least some fun, nice round things to look at. Tonight, it wouldn’t be as entertaining.

Touching the screen, he accepted the offer and put the phone into a holder. His eyes found another empty bottle on the passenger’s seat. Logan threw it out the window. He drove off the side road and headed to pick up the next customer. He hoped it would be someone calm. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with drunks and skanks.

God he wished the day would end soon - well, night. He was tired, hungry and was already in need of booze to ease his mind and pain. This life sucked. Ever since Charles managed to kill everyone over a year ago, living in this world has been a nightmare. Instinctively, he patted the spot on his jacket where he carried an adamantium bullet. Logan kept it with him, to end his life once he felt like it wasn’t worth living anymore.

When he came to the pick-up spot, he frowned. There was one person, as expected. He pictured a guy standing there, like the one he drove to a hotel a week ago. This was a woman. She was dressed in all black, with a big black hat and massive sunglasses. Snobby girl using daddy’s money, he thought. Besides, who the fuck wears sunglasses in the evening?

Logan was ready to leave the limo and open the door for her. However, the woman was faster. She got inside on her own. At least she was capable of doing that.

He drove away, heading to… wait, where were they headed? He grabbed his phone to look at the final destination. There was none. He noticed a note: Please drive around the city. Fuck, he wasn’t going to do that. He wanted to go back home.

Logan rolled down the partition, mouth open to ask the question. But he was met with the woman sitting right behind him as if she was waiting for him to address her. Something inside told him to be careful. Goose bumps ran through his devastated body.

“Where to, miss?” was all he asked.

Her head turned to the side. Logan noticed the shape of her lips covered in crimson-red lipstick. To him, they reminded him of someone. His mind went instantly back to the days when everyone was alive. There was one person he missed the most. She used to wear a colour like that on her lips. God, he hated thinking about her. It was too painful.

“Just keep driving,” the woman replied.

That voice. Holy fuck, how sweet and familiar it was. The booze was playing tricks on him, he was sure of it. No, she was dead. Everyone was dead. Charles killed almost all X-men with his seizure-inducted psychic attack.

He took a deep breath to calm down. When a familiar scent hit his nostrils, he squinted at the woman. What the fuck was this? This was just some mind game of his brain. “That’s not how things work, miss.”

She chuckled and took off her sunglasses. When her eyes met his, Logan jumped on the brakes and the limo halted abruptly. One hand rested on the steering wheel while the rest of his body turned around to look better into her face. What the fuck was happening?

“Hey, Logan,” the woman said his name. It sounded like the most beautiful melody that hit his ears.

“Y/N?” he whispered her name.

The cars behind them started to honk aggressively. The limo was in their way, slowing the traffic down. It wasn’t wise to stand in the middle of the street. Logan cursed and started to drive again, his eyes watching Y/N through the rear-view mirror like a hawk. He feared that one blink later she’d be gone.

He drove them to a silent street, where he knew they’d be alone, without anyone snooping around. The shock was replaced by anger and betrayal. How the fuck was she alive after everything that happened?

Logan parked the car, his body turned back to face her. She should be glad there was the fucking partition separating them. His emotions were running wild. He’d be able to grab her by the neck and choke the truth out of her. “Fucking sing, right now woman. How the fuck are you alive?”

“You sure this is safe?” she pointed at the outside.

“Fuck, talk!” he raised his voice at her. “You’re supposed to be dead. How the fuck are you alive? Explain yourself before I do something I’ll regret for the rest of my miserable life.” Logan was fuming. It was like a wicked mind game.

“I don’t know.”

He laughed. What a pathetic reply. “I should believe that?”

Huffing, she moved to the door and stepped out of the limo. Logan got out a second later, limping towards her as fast as he could. With a painful grunt, he took the claws out of his right hand and grabbed her by the top of her long jacket. He pressed her against the vehicle.

Y/N’s eyes locked with his. There wasn’t a hint of fear inside her. She remained calm. She expected this reaction, the distrust. Anyone would react this way.

Her breathing was slow, even. “I can explain everything.”

“You have one fucking minute,” he snarled.

“I’m gonna need more than that,” she said.

He cursed under his nose. Logan let her go and stepped back to breathe. He was spiralling. Was this happening? This was a hallucination, he was sure of it. None of it was real. “Fuck, fuck! I mourned you. You’re supposed to be fucking dead like the rest of them!” He coughed.

It was painful to see him like this. One year could do a lot of damage - physical and mental. The man she once knew was broken and bruised. Carefully, her hand lifted to his face. She pressed the palm on his grey-brown beard-covered cheek. “Logan,” she said his name. “I’m so sorry for everything that happened.”

“Shut up.”

“So many lost, dead because of what Charles’s power did,” she continued. “I’m really sorry about this.”

As she was about to retract her hand, he grabbed her with his left one and pressed his lips on top of it. He inhaled her scent, felt the soft skin with his lips. Logan needed to be sure she was real and not just a figment of his imagination. “How?” he grunted. “How is this possible? I mourned you, Y/N,” he repeated.

She nodded, understanding. “There is a lot to discuss,” she said. “We need to go somewhere where we can talk. That’s why I wanted you to drive around. Standing here, where anyone can see us is dangerous.”

Logan let her go. He huffed and wiped his face with a hand. The claws on the right hand were long gone. “Get in the car,” he ordered. “I know a place.”

She didn’t have to be told twice. Y/N sat on the passenger’s seat and Logan drove them away. Both of them made sure there weren’t any suspicious vehicles following them. El Paso was a big city, lightened up with many lights like Vegas. The city woke up for the night as the temperatures got acceptable to humans.

“Is anyone else alive?” Logan asked after a while. His voice got softer. He was able to process the initial shock.

“No,” she shook her head. “Everyone’s dead. I should have been dead too.”

“How come you are not?”

She took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. “I think my mutation saved me. It got enhanced with Charles’s psychic attack, or what the hell that was. My mutation was always a protective one. I believe it helped me survive and regenerate. As if that whole situation unlocked something new inside me.”

“Shit,” he gasped. “Is that even possible?”

She shrugged. “I recall something that Charles taught back at the school. High-stress situations can unlock mutant powers. Usually, it happens to teens and children. But, it’s not rare for mutant adults to have their mutation enhanced by stress, which can potentially bring out more powers.”

Y/N reached into her boot and took out a pocket knife. As Logan stopped the limo at the red light, she showed him her forearm. “Look.” With one precise move, she cut her skin. Some blood dripped down her arm and onto her clothes. Next, it was sealed with a white light. The skin was nice and clean as if she never cut herself.

Shit, she could regenerate now. It made sense she survived. “Damn. That didn’t happen before,” Logan commented. He thought back to the days when they were at the mutant school. She could get hurt like anyone else. Bleed like any mortal. “Just… tell me why did you decide to show up now? Why not when you woke up after that incident?”

Logan drove them to the parking lot inside a building. It was big enough for the limo to fit through the driveway. Once he parked on the second level, he turned the gas off.

“I didn’t know where you were or who was left alive,” she said.

“A year, Y/N,” he glared at her. Logan’s eyes were red. He had bags under them, signalling the lack of sleep, the tiredness. “What the hell were you doing during that time?”

The silence inside the car got heavy. This was a question she knew he’d ask. It was time to tell him everything that happened.

Y/N turned her body to face him. Her eyes found his shaky hands. “I remember… the pain. A lot of it. My head was about to explode. There was a ringing sound in my ears. The ground was shaking. I could see our friends, the students, on the ground, yelling and gasping for air.

Then it was followed by darkness. When I woke up, I was in a morgue. There were so many of us, lying on cold tables. I was the only one alive. They were all dead.” She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. “I went through all the tables, saw all the dead faces of our friends and family.”

Her voice broke. It was too painful to talk about what she went through when she woke up. How fast the world changed. Her hands trembled. “I went through all bodies,” she sobbed. “I saw all the lifeless faces. I cried my eyes out and mourned them. In the end, I realised two people were missing - you and Charles.”

Logan’s expression softened. He was consumed by his anger and confusion. She came back to his life when he thought she was dead. He should consider it a blessing. A light came back into his dark life. Now, he learnt that her second chance at life was a complete disaster. Pain and death.

“It took me some time to start again, trust the people around me. Afterwards, I started to look for you. I knew, deep inside, that you were alive somewhere. I made a plan, created a safe place for us once I’d find you. It took me half a year to get an intel that you were alive, here in El Paso.”

Logan’s hand reached her face and wiped away the tears that ran down her cheeks. After all this time, he still had a soft spot for her. He always did.

“It wasn’t easy to get here,” she continued. “Luckily, I had people from the past who owed me a couple of favours. I collected information about you. It was easy to discover you got Charles with you. I got intel about his state or how you’ve been trying to get meds for him. When possible, I’d arrange for extra medication for him.”

Logan sighed. “That was you?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It wasn’t always possible. I tried my best to help you while I prepared for the whole plan I made.”

He huffed. “Shit, I appreciate it, darlin’.”

Y/N smiled at him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. I’m sorry I couldn’t…”

“That’s okay-”

She grabbed his hand. Her fingers trailed the scars on it. They hid under the sleeves of his black jacket. “Do you… Do you know what’s happening to you?” she had to ask. “I can see you’ve changed, Logan.”

“I’m an old man now,” he said. “I’m in constant pain, healing slowly but not fully. It’s clear I finally have my expiration date. I’ve been alive for almost 200 years. I’ve been through a lot of shit, good and bad.”

“So,” she cleared her throat. “You feel like it’s your time to go?”

“I didn’t have a reason to live,” Logan admitted. He couldn’t look at her. His eyes were locked on the front window, watching the outside. “The X-men dead, no school, no mutants. I ended up taking care of Charles, who doesn’t want to die,” he grunted, frustrated. He smashed his hands against the steering wheel.

Logan left the car abruptly. He needed to breathe, to move around and calm down. Charles once gave him a second chance at life. He welcomed him into the mutant school. Now, Logan wanted him to finally die. It was too much responsibility. And he was exhausted.

Y/N appeared before him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Logan,” she whispered his name. Her mouth opened to say some reassuring words when he pressed her against the limo. His big hands grabbed her by her face and pressed his lips to hers.

It’s been a year since he last kissed her. She used to be his anchor, the love of his life. It got destroyed when everyone died - when he thought she died. And now, being here with her a year later, the need was back. Their lips moved in sync in a hungry kiss filled with sorrow. His tongue demanded entrance for further exploration.

Y/N grabbed him by the white button-up. She missed his kisses, his touch. However, it felt different. The time apart made it feel a bit foreign and sad. Her heart wanted to explode.

Logan pushed away, breathing heavily. “Sorry,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N quickly found his shoulders. “It’s been a fucked up year.”

He pulled her into his arms, hiding her in a tight embrace. “With you here, back in my life, it changes everything,” he admitted.

There was a short silence before Y/N told him something he didn’t know. “I know what’s happening to you, Logan.”

They looked at each other. His brow lifted. “What?” His arms remained on her waist.

“It’s the adamantium,” she said. “It’s poisoning you, slowing down your healing factor and killing you.”

“How do you know?”

She told him the story of how her trusted friend from the past was able to get to Logan’s blood sample from the time when he agreed to get the adamantium. They ran some tests and even got their hands on some of his bloody clothes from a few months back when he got shot by some men in a parking lot.

“With his help, we were able to do a full analysis and figure out that the adamantium would attack your cells more with time. It’s a toxic substance released from the metal that is killing you from the inside. It’s a whole complex situation. But,” she sighed, “he was able to figure it all out.”

He huffed. “Well, there you go, darlin’. My time is running out. Fast.”

“What if…” she whispered. “What if there was a way to heal you? Would you want that?”

This time, they parted away to have a better look at each other. “That’s a difficult one, Y/N. I know things won’t be the same as they were a year ago.”

The sadness appeared in her eyes and he noticed. “Oh…”

“I know things are so fucked up. No more mutants are being born. If there are any left, which I highly doubt, they are all hiding.”

“You,” she started. “You wouldn’t want me back?” Y/N had to ask. She needed to know to move on. After everything, her heart belonged to him.

Logan closed his eyes and thought about his reply. “I will want you until the day I die. And that’s the thing. My days are coming to an end. Look what happened to me. I’m an old fuck, who could be your fucking grandfather now.”

“I still love you,” she said looking away. “I don’t care about any of it. You are my Logan. The one who protected me, helped me grow and made me a better person. Fuck, there was always a gigantic age gap between us. Do you think, just because you have grey hair and scars, will make me love you less?”

Logan shook his head in disbelief. “I always knew you were too good for me. Even now, you’ve been helping me while I had no idea you were alive. Shit. Such an angel in disguise.”

Y/N swallowed hard. A lump formed in her throat. “I have an antidote for you,” she blurted out. “If you want it. If you want a better life… with me.” She knew damn well how selfish and stupid it sounded.

“Antidote?”

She nodded. “I know, it’s crazy. I know you have no reason to trust me after being separated for a year, while you believed I was dead.” Her hands started to shake. The desperation was evident. She wanted him, needed him back in her life. “It’s up to you, Logan. I have it. If you want it.”

His phone started to ring. Logan’s eyes moved to the car, seeing the phone still in the holder vibrating. It had to be Caliban. “Shit, I need to head back home.”

Y/N’s heart dropped. Was this the end of it all? He didn’t want the antidote. He didn’t want her or another chance at life. “I understand.”

Logan reached for her hand. “You are coming with me, darlin’. We are not done with this conversation. I am not fucking done with you.” He brought the hand to his lips and kissed it. “Get in the car.”

“Logan-”

“No,” he shook his head. “You’re coming with me. Don’t you dare jump to conclusions, Y/N. We have a lot to discuss. And believe me, I’m not fucking letting you go.”

A warm smile appeared on her face. “Okay.”

“I just fucking hope you don’t have to leave now.”

“No,” she smiled at him. “I’m staying. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll keep you safe, I swear on my life. I’ll get you out of here. Like I said, I already have a plan.”

Logan helped her get inside the vehicle. He drove them out of El Paso to a place he now called home. It wasn’t much, but it was a place where they could hide and survive. It was located near the US/Mexican borders, in the middle of a dusty nowhere.

Y/N watched his face the whole drive. She could see how he squinted, frowned out of nowhere. The smile that was on his face turned into a painful scowl. He was in pain. It was a moment like this when she wished she could heal other people with a simple touch. That’s not how her mutation worked.

When they arrived at an old abandoned smelting plant, the air was warm. Dust and dry land hit her nostrils once she got out of the limo.

“One more thing,” Logan said and coughed. “We have another mutant here. His name is Caliban.”

She frowned at him. Everyone knew Caliban. “If I were you, I’d kill him for what he had done in the past. Fucker used to help Transigen for a long time, tracking mutants for them. You were too kind to take him in.”

Logan huffed. He reached his hand towards her. She approached him, taking his hand into his. He got her inside the rusty old building. Together, they walked into a section that could be called ‘the kitchen’.

Y/N’s eyes wandered around, seeing all the empty bottles of alcohol. Old long rags hung from the walls. It was like a workroom. The smell of steel and ore. At least this was a safe place where they could sleep and eat.

“Logan?” Y/N turned to the sound to meet Caliban. She noticed how his eyes widened when they landed on her. “Shit, you are alive.”

“So are you,” she glared at him.

He took a sniff, frowning. “If I had known you’re alive, I’d have smelt you. I would have known about your presence. Something is different about you. I can’t smell the mutation on you.”

“Maybe it’s your own mutation weakening,” she growled at him.

“Mind your own fucking business,” Logan glared at Caliban.

“Don’t you find it odd that she’s alive?” he raised his voice, finger pointing at the woman. “How is that fucking possible? How come she doesn’t smell like one of us?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, Caliban. Also, I don’t care if you don’t trust me, because I certainly don’t trust you.”

Logan’s lips turned into a smirk. He took off his black jacket and threw it on the wooden table. He rolled up the sleeves of his white button-up. There were scars over his forearms, even old bullet wounds that didn’t properly heal. He could feel her eyes on them.

“Come on, darlin’. I’ll take you to see Charles.”

Y/N made a face while looking at the albino mutant. With Logan, they left the kitchen area and headed to the back door. He took her into a different section of the lot, through a crooked door. The inside of the space was dark until Logan turned on a small light.

A movement came out of an old bed. “Who’s there?” Charles’s voice echoed around.

“I brought you, someone,” said Logan. “Someone you know very well. It might lift your spirits.”

Y/N had to smile when she heard Logan’s softer, calmer voice. Her hand gently brushed against his lower back when she walked closer to the old man. Her legs stopped at the edge of the bed where she saw a very old Charles Xavier with white longer hair and a stubble.

“Professor,” her voice was a mere whisper.

His eyes found her, eyeing her face and hair to the clothes and hands. He lost his breath for a moment. As if a ghost was standing in front of him. “Y/N?” he gasped. “Is that you?”

She nodded, smiling. “Yeah, Professor. It’s me.”

“How?”

Her lips opened, ready to tell him to read her mind. She immediately halted. Y/N knew his powers were not what they used to be. “My mutation saved me,” she gave him the simplest answer. “It evolved, like you taught us back at the school.”

Professor’s eyes moved from her to the man standing in the back. “You did at least something right,” he said to Logan. “You became such a disappointment. At least this-”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. “Professor,” she scolded him. She never imagined these words escaping Professor’s lips.

She turned to Logan. He had a plastic case in his hands. Then he handed two pills to Charles. “Take them, now,” he said gruffly. “Come on.”

Charles did as told, swallowing the pills and sticking out his tongue at Logan like a child.

“We’ll let you rest,” Y/N said, smiling weakly at the old man. “I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

“You are staying?” he asked. He received a simple nod from her and it made him smile.

Logan brought her to a room with one bed. There were several empty bottles of liquor, cigar butts and other shit. It was spacious, smelled like alcohol, cigars and Logan. This was all he had. At least some privacy, a place to sleep. Those days of living in luxury were long gone.

He turned on the light. It was yellow, illuminating the place enough for them to see. “You can take the bed,” he said, breaking her thoughtfulness.

Y/N glared at them. “And where will you sleep?”

He opened and closed his mouth. There were many options, including the damn limo. But he wished to sleep next to her like they used to before as a couple. Logan huffed.

“You know, you look very handsome in those formal clothes,” she said. “Sexy, dare I say.”

“Those were the days when I was,” he scoffed. “Now, I’m basically a fossil.”

Y/N slowly took off her long jacket. She put her hand into her pocket, feeling the glass vial. Her hand let loose and draped the piece of clothing over a chair - or something that looked like it. The hat was long forgotten in the back seats of the limo. Then, she approached him, carefully resting her hands on his chest. When he didn’t move, she gently unbuttoned the white shirt for him.

“Y/N,” he sighed her name.

“Will you let me do this?” she asked, her voice soft and sweet. “Will you let me show you, that in my eyes you are still the handsome man I still love?”

She helped him take off the button-up and let it fall on the dirty ground. “Fuck,” his breath hitched. “Darlin’.”

Her hands moved up, gently stroking the skin on his neck until she reached his bearded face. “The beard suits you. Miss the mutton chops, though,” the left side of her lips curled up.

Logan couldn’t resist. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. One, two and then his tongue asked permission to enter to which she obliged. His big hands slid down her back to her ass, taking a handful of it. “I missed you,” he admitted between the kisses.

“Missed you too,” she nodded. When their lips disconnected, she grabbed him by the white tank top he wore and dragged it out of his pants. Y/N helped him get rid of it. She could sense the hesitation from him.

Once it was off, her hands gently stroked his hard chest. Her fingers delicately brushed all the scars that littered his still muscular body. The regeneration was barely working. There was a day-old wound. Someone fucking shot him a day ago and the wasn’t there to protect him. Without thinking, Y/N pressed her lips on his left pectoral, right above his nipple and a scar he had there.

“Why are you doing this?”

Her hands slipped to the belt of his pants. “To show you that I love you the way you are,” she admitted. “That I want you no matter what.”

Logan stopped her by grabbing her wrists and pressing them back to his chest. He didn’t let her go. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I…” she closed her eyes and pressed her ear against his beating heart. The sound soothed her. It was a sign he was here and alive. “I want to show you, that I do want you whether you are old or young. I want you to know, that even if you don’t want the antidote, I’m here with you until…” her voice broke. The thought of him dying was terrifying.

“The antidote,” he sighed. Honestly, he forgot about it. The conversation before was short.

“It’s okay if you don’t want it…”

Logan helped her sit on the bed. Their knees touched. His big hands held her smaller ones. He remained close to her. “I need you to tell me more about it. All I know is that you have it and it has to do something with the adamantium poisoning my body.”

“All I know is this: The antidote will stop the poisoning and stop the dying process. A friend of mine was able to make a new element that successfully fought the molecules of the adamantium. Many outcomes may happen once you take the antidote. There is only a 1% chance of side effects. Hell, even less than that.”

“What are some of the outcomes?” he asked.

“Either it’ll only cure you and stop the ageing and dying process. Or the regenerating factor will kick in and heal the scars and wounds littering your body,” she named a few.

Logan shook his head. “So, no matter what, I’ll be stuck in this old body.” He winced when a wave of pain hit his body. His hand reached for the first bottle he found, drinking the alcohol like a lemonade.

“Sexy old body,” she grinned at him. “Would it matter?” she raised her brows. “You’ll be strong again. No more pain. No more booze as painkillers.” Y/N reached for the bottle and took it away from his hands. “I’m here, with you, Logan. You don’t have to do this alone.”

The next words he said were something he’d never imagined he would say to anyone. “I’m scared, Y/N. There is this fear inside of me that life will suck for another two hundred years. And now, here, with you, I fear that I’m gonna lose you again. It was painful the first time. I’m not gonna be able to do it again.”

Carefully, she climbed onto his lap. He put her hands on her waist while Y/N buried her fingers into his hair. “That’s how I feel now. I feel I’m going to lose you just when I was able to get to you.” She then brushed the tired skin under his eyes with a thumb. “I don’t want to lose you, but I will if you won’t take the antidote. Fuck, I want to be so selfish and convince you to take it. However, the choice is yours.”

Hot tears spilt from her eyes. The choked sobs made Logan clench his heart. He knew his girl would never force him even when she wanted to. She was never selfish. It was his choice. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, inhaling her sweet scent. Damn, she smelled better than he remembered.

“I want to sleep on that,” he said. “I’m so fucking tired. I should take a shower.”

She tilted her head and smiled suggestively at him. “How about we take it together?” she asked, voice innocent and sweet.

“Hm, you really wanna get inside my pants,” he laughed which made him cough.

Y/N glared at him. “You make me look like a perv,” she said.

“Who was undressing me minutes ago?”

“Who let me and didn’t stop me at the beginning?” she asked back.

Logan patted her ass cheeks. “Come on, darlin’. I’ll show you the hole I shower in. At least we’ll save some water.”

They got off the bed. First, Logan walked to an old wardrobe where he took out a simple t-shirt and some boxers he rarely used. He handed them to Y/N. “Something to wear afterwards,” he said.

Like Logan said, it was a hole where he usually showered. It was big enough for two, even three people at the same time. It had hot and cold water. He had a soap and a shower gel. Hell, he had a spare towel, a smaller one, for Y/N.

He leaned against a washbasin when his eyes locked on Y/N’s body. He watched her like a hawk as she undressed from her all-black attire. Over a year had passed since he saw her like this - exposed to his hungry eyes. She was right there, showing him her gorgeous body. No shame, no need to cover herself up. Only a gentle smile tugged at her lips.

Y/N called him in. She put her body under the warm stream of water. This time it was her turn to watch him undress from the pants. And, like before, he didn’t wear any underwear. Her eyes were met with his semi-hard member.

More scars littered his thick thighs. Mostly slashes from knives. And yet, he was still beautiful. A sexy man who had her heart for a very long time.

His lips pressed into the back of her neck once he stepped inside the shower. His strong arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her back to his chest.

Logan’s hands caressed her body. He felt every curve, exploring her as if it was for the first time. Her body was soft and warm. When one of the hands brushed up through her navel to the left breast, he squeezed it and then moved up and wrapped it around her neck. “So pretty, all mine.”

They couldn’t resist each other. Logan had her pressed against a cold wall in no time, slowly filling her up with his cock. He enjoyed every push, every clench. He muttered sweet nothings into her ear as she moaned his name. Slow, sexy and filled with love. No, he wasn't fucking her like in the past - hard, rough. This was lovemaking. Emotions played the main role here.

After the shower, and a long soft make-out session, they returned to the old bed. Logan put her body over his. Like this, they could sleep on the bed until the very morning. Or at least Y/N did.

Logan kept thinking most of the night about the person in his arms. Some higher force brought them back together. In the past, he lost everyone he loved. When Y/N came into his life, he hesitated to let her in. That woman swallowed his heart and made him feel things he never knew were possible. When he lost her again, and the rest of his X-men family, he was ready to end it all and die. Not anymore.

“Baby?”

This was the first time Logan used this pet name since reuniting. Y/N’s eyes opened immediately, her head tilting up at Logan. Was something happening? “Everything okay?” she asked.

Logan brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes were small, tired. But they sparkled when he looked closer. “I’ll take the antidote.”

“Really?”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I have you now. I have something worth living. I thought about your survival and your mutation. Shit, you can heal now, Y/N. It’s giving me hope that I’ll be able to spend many more years with you.”

Y/N climbed up his body to press her lips onto his. It was a sweet, short peck. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want to force you or anything. This is purely your choice.”

He grabbed her face into his hands, staring into her eyes. “I love you,” he said. “Let’s do this now.”

“Oh, okay!”

While she went into her jacket to get the antidote and an injection, Logan sat up and cracked his fingers. His hands were shaking. A painful groan escaped his throat when he felt another wave of pain. He longed to take a bottle that called his name and drink it in one go.

Logan’s red, tired eyes rather moved to the sweet ass of his woman. The view was nice, distracting. A smile formed behind his thick beard as he memorised it.

Y/N got back to the bed and prepared the blue liquid. “One more thing,” she sighed. “We don’t know whether the healing process will be painful or not. I’ll be with you the entire time.”

“I’ll manage. I’ve been through a lot of shit. It’s not gonna be painful as the damn application of adamantium into my bones. Or the feeling when I thought I lost you.” He stretched his left arm, showing her the big vein popping out.

She took a deep breath through her nose and lowered the needle to his skin until it penetrated it. She injected the antidote into the vein and took the needle out. The tiny wound instantly closed.

Logan’s breathing sped up. He frowned, gasped for air and grunted. He was in a lot of pain. The effect started fast. Y/N dropped the empty injection on the ground. She jumped up, grabbing Logan by his wide shoulders. “Breathe,” she told him. His body was hot, sweating. “Logan, breathe.”

A scream erupted from his throat. His fists clenched, eyes closed shut. It was evident the pain was unbearable. The roaring brought Caliban into his room. His mutant eyes wide as he watched Logan rolling on the bed in excruciating pain.

“What the fuck have you done to him?” he shouted at Y/N.

She didn’t know what to do or what to say. “Wait!” she yelled at Caliban, raising a hand not to intervene.

That’s when she noticed that every wound, every ugly scar started to disappear, leaving the skin nice and smooth. It was working. She felt some relief inside her soul.

Logan’s chest was heaving. Grunts and snarls came out of his mouth. Luckily, the shouting was done. He was calming down. All those voices and pain turned into heavy breathing.

“Logan?” Y/N appeared above him. She scanned his face and moved downwards his body to his rising and falling chest.

“Holy shit,” he gasped. “Did it work?”

Caliban appeared above him. “What the hell? How is this possible?”

“Yes, it did,” Y/N smiled.

Logan’s body healed. Every wound, scar or pain he felt minutes ago was gone. Even his eyes looked brighter. The redness was gone as well as the dark bags under them.

He lifted his body from the bed and found Y/N’s face. Both hands pressed to her cheeks and then moved down her neck. “Fuck, you look so damn beautiful. I can fucking see. My vision was fucked. I had to wear reading glasses.”

“Hey,” Caliban reminded them he was present in the room. “What have you done to him?”

“I cured him,” she said.

“How’s that possible?”

“I have my ways,” she replied, eyes never leaving Logan’s face. A smile played on her lips. She couldn’t stop staring into his pretty face. Well, he was handsome even before she gave him the antidote. “How do you feel?”

Logan pressed a kiss to her lips, hugging her body as he pulled her into his lap. He was never fond of PDA, but now, he didn’t give a shit about it. If it made Caliban uncomfortable, good. At least that fucker would leave his room and give them some privacy.

The kiss ended. “I feel reborn. I don’t feel any pain. I can see clearly. Like a goddamn miracle.” Logan put her down on the bed next to him and walked to a mirror he had in the room. “Fuck!” he gasped. He stared at his reflection.

He kept searching for the scars on his shoulders and his face. Or the one over his ribs. There was nothing. What remained was the grey-brown short hair or the thick beard. His fingers touched every part of his face, just to be sure it wasn’t an illusion.

“At least I don’t have to watch the puss on his knuckles,” Caliban commented. “By the way, it’s time to give Charles his medication. Since you are all cheerful and healthy, it’s your turn. I had a rough night,” he said grumpily.

Logan glared at the mutant. “Fine.”

Once Caliban was out of the room, Y/N walked to Logan. He wrapped his right arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Thank you, darlin’.”

“Anything for you. Now, it’s time to move to the rest of my plan,” she said. “I have a safe place for us. It’s gonna be a long drive to Canada, but everything is set and ready. And by us, I also included Charles. We need to take care of him. He once welcomed us to the mutant school. It’s our turn to do the same.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Always the one with a plan. What about Caliban?”

“Sorry, not included,” she said. “He did a lot of shit in his life. I can arrange some supplies for him once we leave, but that’s it.”

“When do we leave?”

“As soon as we can. Let’s give Charles his meds, pack everything you need and leave,” said Y/N.

Logan took a deep breath. “Come here,” he whispered. He needed to kiss her. It was like sealing a deal with Y/N, that this was the new beginning, a new chance to have a better life. Was this finally his happy ending?

#Logan Howlett x reader #old man Logan x reader #Wolverine x reader #Logan Howlett x female reader #Old man Logan x female reader #Wolverine x female reader #X-men fanfiction #Logan Howlett

885 notes · View notes

vunblr · 1 month ago

Text

Unspoken (Ch.2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Warnings: 18+ only. Wet Dream, Angst-Hurt/Comfort, Alusions to Hydra's Trash Party (if you don't know what that is, google about it before reading please), Alusions to Sexual Abuse, Invasive Medical Procedure, Panic Attack situation, Sam being Sam.

Summary: Bucky tries to deal with his traumatic past, and struggles with his feelings as he grows closer to a new Avenger.

Word Count: About 7.2.k.

notes: Second and final chapter of this story. I hope you enjoy it!

The limo was packed, the air thick with anticipation and, in Bucky’s case, a simmering sense of discomfort. Y/n was squeezed up against the side of the car, her body brushing against his, while Sam sat across from them, legs casually sprawled out, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Well, look at us,” Sam said, stretching his arms out theatrically. “All dressed up for a fancy night out. Bucky, you clean up pretty well for a guy who spends most of his time brooding in corners.”

Bucky shot him a glare but didn’t bother to respond, his focus on keeping his breathing steady as her leg pressed against his. She had no idea how much that little contact was messing with his already frayed nerves. The warmth of her body beside him felt too familiar after what happened last night. He shifted slightly, trying to create some space, but it was impossible in the cramped limo.

“Aw, come on, Buck,” Sam continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Don’t tell me you’re still sulking about coming along. I mean, it’s for charity, man. And if anyone here knows how to be charitable, it’s you.” His grin widened as he leaned forward. “Especially when it comes to these two fine ladies.”

Steve, who sat beside Sam, chuckled, shaking his head as he turned his attention to Y/n and Natasha. “He’s right, though,” Steve said, his voice warm. “You both are amazing women, but tonight you’re especially lovely.”

Y/n blushed under Steve’s compliment, offering a playful smile in return. “Thanks, Steve. But really, all credit goes to Nat here for dragging me into this.”

Natasha smirked, lounging next to Y/n in a striking red dress. “You’ll thank me later when we clean house in that bachelorette’s auction.”

Bucky, meanwhile, was doing his best to avoid looking directly at her. The black dress was more than enough to set him on edge, the low neckline and mesh stockings flashing in his peripheral vision like a neon sign, reminding him of the dream that wouldn’t leave him alone. He clenched his jaw and stared out the window, trying to focus on the passing streetlights instead.

“You good back there, Clank?” Sam teased again, noticing Bucky’s tense posture. “You look like you’re about to crack a tooth.” he leaned back, crossing his arms with a cocky grin plastered across his face.

Bucky’s jaw clenched harder, and his metal fingers flexed, the soft whir of gears barely audible over Sam’s incessant teasing. “Keep talking, Sam,” he muttered, his voice low and warning. “See where that gets you.”

Sam wasn’t letting up. “Oh, come on. I’ve seen that look before. That’s the ‘I’ve got feelings but don’t know what to do with them’ look.” His grin widened, clearly enjoying how riled up Bucky was getting. “You worried someone’s gonna outbid you tonight?” he teased, relishing the tension. “Not that you could, you know, since you didn’t even sign up to participate.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, the muscle in his jaw twitching. He shot Sam a dangerous look but swallowed the sharp retort burning at the back of his throat. Sam had no idea how close to the truth he was coming, and the last thing Bucky wanted was for anyone -especially Y/n- to figure it out.

She caught Sam’s teasing and frowned, her eyes flicking to Bucky. She couldn’t miss how his whole body had gone rigid, like he was just one wrong word away from snapping. The tension radiating off him was palpable. Then it hit her. Considering the way he had been treating her -distant, cold, like she barely existed- the only plausible explanation for Sam’s comments... Was he into Nat?

That thought dug deeper than she expected, a sharp pang in her chest that she couldn’t ignore. She tried to brush it off, but it lingered, nagging at her.

She hesitated, her teeth sinking into her lower lip before she leaned in slightly. Her voice came out low, edged with reluctant empathy. “Don’t mind him,” she muttered, her words meant only for Bucky’s ears. “I’m sure Nat will be fine.”

Bucky’s head snapped to her, surprise flashing in his eyes before it quickly turned to something darker, stormier. She had no idea what was really going on in his head, and the fact that she thought this was about Natasha hit him like a sucker punch to the gut.

“That’s not-” He stopped himself, jaw tightening. There was no point in trying to explain, not here, not now, and certainly not with Sam hanging on every word. He let out a slow breath, his tone gruff when he spoke again, quieter. “Just drop it, okay?”

She blinked, startled by the rawness in his tone. She thought she’d struck a nerve, but clearly not the one she’d expected. Still, after the way he’d treated her recently, she wasn’t about to let him off the hook. If he wanted to be difficult, she could meet him halfway.

“Fine,” she replied coolly. “Not like it’s any of my business, right?” She leaned back, crossing her arms as if to physically distance herself, her eyes focusing on the passing city through the window.

Sam, sensing the tension in the air, raised his eyebrows but -for once- chose not to stir the pot further. He shot a questioning glance at Steve, wordlessly asking, What’s going on here?

Steve caught Sam’s look and responded with a subtle shake of his head, lips pressed into a thin, knowing line. His gaze flicked between Bucky and Y/n, then back to Sam, silently conveying the message: Don’t push it. There was understanding in Steve’s eyes, whatever was going on with Bucky ran deeper than just nerves or irritation. His expression was clear: Give him space.

Finally, the “limo of awkwardness” reached its destination, pulling up to the entrance of the lavish event. The tension inside was palpable, and everyone seemed eager to escape the cramped space. As soon as the doors opened, there was a collective sigh of relief as they stepped out into the open.

Y/n practically bolted out of the car, the cool evening air a welcome contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside. Natasha followed with a smirk, clearly more amused than bothered by the awkward ride. “Bathroom break?” she suggested, raising an eyebrow at Y/n, who nodded gratefully. Together, they made their way toward the entrance, their heels clicking softly on the pavement as they prepared to retouch their makeup and shake off the tension.

Meanwhile, the guys lagged, hanging around the entrance for a moment before stepping into the crowd of finely dressed people. The venue was swarming with posh elites, champagne flutes in hand, chatting in clusters that screamed wealth and sophistication. Bucky stuffed his hands into his pockets, his shoulders stiff as he surveyed the sea of unfamiliar faces, feeling out of place and more than a little on edge.

Sam, ever the social butterfly, immediately started mingling, flashing his charming smile at a passing couple. "Nice place," he muttered to Steve, grabbing a champagne flute from a passing waiter. "Think Tony outdid himself this time?"

Steve gave a small nod, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of trouble, though it was more habit than genuine concern. “Yeah, it’s impressive,” he replied, though his attention drifted toward Bucky, who had slowly gravitated to the edge of the crowd, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Don’t disappear.” Sam called out, clapping him on the shoulder as he joined Steve in surveying the room. His grin was teasing, but light-hearted enough to let the tension from the limo ride dissipate.

Bucky just rolled his eyes, staying quiet but sticking close to the group as they moved into the crowd. He wasn’t in the mood for mingling, but he’d made it this far.

The event officially kicked off with Tony taking the stage, his usual confident grin plastered across his face. He grabbed the microphone and began his speech with his typical charm. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to an evening of generosity, glamour and, let’s be honest, some good old-fashioned fun,” he announced, flashing a playful smirk. “Tonight’s about raising money for a great cause, but it wouldn’t be a true Stark event without a bit of spice, right?” The crowd chuckled, their champagne glasses shimmering under the soft lighting as they eagerly awaited the night’s entertainment.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Y/n emerged from the bathroom, looking radiant and refreshed. As they walked back toward the main hall, Tony’s voice echoed across the room. “And now, for the part you’ve all been waiting for: our very own bachelor auction! The first of the two events we have tonight! Get your wallets out and let’s start bidding, people! Remember, it’s for charity, but hey, you get to take home a prize for the night too,” he said with a wink, his tone playful but persuasive.

The stage lit up, and the male candidates for the auction stepped forward, each one more enthusiastic than the last. Tony, never one to miss a chance to stir up excitement, started hyping them up. “Look at these guys! We've got muscles, brains, and a whole lot of… charisma.” He pointed to one of the bachelors. “Ladies, I hear this one’s an excellent conversationalist... and check out those thighs! Perfect for sitting on, am I right?” The crowd erupted into laughter, but there was already a buzz as bids began flying.

Y/n had been chuckling softly at Tony’s ridiculous commentary when she caught a glimpse of Bucky out of the corner of her eye. Something was off. He was standing rigidly, his jaw set in a hard line, eyes locked onto the stage but distant, as if he wasn’t really there. His face seemed pale, drawn tight in a way that made her stomach twist with concern.

As he stood there, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the stage, a sudden wave of nausea hit him. It started with the sound of Tony's playful words, the laughter in the crowd, and the sight of the men being paraded in front of eager eyes. All of it melded together into something darker, something far too familiar.

Without warning, his mind transported him again back to the past. The dim, suffocating atmosphere of one of the sickening Hydra parties. He could feel the cold bite of chains against his skin, the way they had displayed him like an object, barely clothed, barely human. He had been the prize, the thing to be won, over and over again, with leering eyes and depraved hands deciding his fate. The room around him started to warp, blurring as his vision tunneled. His heart rate spiked, and his breath quickened, chest tightening painfully.

Bucky’s grip on his own arms grew stronger, his metal fingers pressing into the flesh of his opposite arm so hard that he was bruising the enhanced skin. He tried to remind himself where he was, tried to tell himself that this was different. But the flood of memories was relentless, dragging him down into the depths of his trauma.

He could feel it, the sensation of being used, of having no agency. The faces of those who had taken pleasure in his pain flashed before his eyes. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, his body trembling. Sweat prickled along his brow as his surroundings closed in on him, the chatter and laughter of the event fading into a distant, haunting echo.

Suddenly, the present broke through just enough for Bucky to realize he couldn’t breathe. Panic was closing in on him like a vice, squeezing tighter and tighter. The telltale signs of an impending panic attack flared: his heart hammered in his chest, and the room seemed to spin out of control.

He pushed himself off the column. His movements were sharp, almost desperate, as he weaved through the crowd like a wounded animal seeking refuge. His breath was shallow, his steps quickening. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to escape the noise, the eyes, the memories. The room was suffocating, and every second spent in it felt like another piece of his soul was being ripped away. He made a break for the exit, his jaw clenched so tight that his teeth hurt, his mind focused on one thing: getting the fuck out.

Before she could fully register it, she saw him push off the column. His normally composed demeanor was nowhere to be found. Bucky’s face was contorted, his brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, the shallow, rapid rise and fall of his chest gave him away. He was unraveling, right there in front of everyone.

Her own breath hitched as she watched him cut through the crowd with increasing urgency. His retreat was too quick, too desperate, and she felt a sudden, overwhelming tug of alarm shoot through her.

Something was wrong, really wrong.

Without thinking, she stepped away from Natasha, her focus zeroed in on Bucky. Her gaze was locked on the exit he had disappeared through. Her anger faded into the background, replaced by an unshakable need to make sure he was okay. There was something in the way he had bolted, something haunted. She found herself speeding up, her heels clicking loudly against the floor as she headed toward the doors, her eyes scanning the surroundings, hoping she could find him before he disappeared completely. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe it was something else entirely, but she couldn’t let him go through whatever it was alone, not again.

Eventually she pushed through the heavy ballroom doors, leaving the noise of laughter and clinking glasses behind her as she stepped into the quiet night air. The sudden shift in the atmosphere was jarring, the lively event inside faded into a dull hum, barely audible as she found herself standing in a meticulously manicured topiary garden. Tall, artfully shaped hedges loomed around her, casting long shadows under the moonlight, the only light coming from lanterns lining the stone pathway.

Her heels clicked softly as she moved forward, eyes scanning the surroundings. The cool air brushed against her skin, doing little to soothe the knot of anxiety twisting inside her. She couldn't shake the image of Bucky's face from her mind. She quickened her pace, rounding one hedge and then another, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But the garden stretched on, and after a few minutes of searching, her stomach sank. Was he gone?

She bit her lip, frustration and worry mingling in her chest. She stood still for a moment, closing her eyes to listen, trying to tune in to any sound beyond the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant murmur from the party. Nothing. The garden felt too large, too quiet. She sighed and started retreating inside when movement caught her eye.

Just off to the side, almost hidden beneath the shadow of a thick, overgrown bush, she spotted a dark shape. Her heart stuttered as she stepped closer, the form coming into view. There, huddled in the dirt, his back pressed against the stone wall, was Bucky. He looked utterly wrecked.

His blue suit was smeared with mud formed in the recently watered soil, as though he’d been sitting there for a while. His hair, previously pulled back neatly into a bun, was disheveled, loose strands clinging to his forehead, others tangled and tugged free as if he'd been pulling at it in desperation. His hands were fisted in the damp earth by his sides, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He didn’t move as she approached, didn’t even acknowledge her presence. It was as if he had retreated into himself, hiding in plain sight, blending in with the shadows like he wanted to disappear entirely.

Her breath caught at the sight of him. If there were remnants of her initial anger, they melted away entirely now. What was left in its place was pure concern. She had never seen him like this, so broken, so raw.

“Bucky?” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she knelt down, hesitating just a foot away. He didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the ground, his breaths still coming in shallow, uneven bursts.

Her heart clenched. He was hiding. Not just physically, but emotionally too. He was retreating into that dark place, she had seen glimpses of it before, but never like this.

“Hey…” she tried again, her tone gentle, trying to reach him through the fog of whatever nightmare was gripping him. “Bucky, it’s me.”

For a moment, nothing. He remained hunched, his knuckles white from where his fists were clenched in the mud. But then, slowly, he blinked, his gaze shifting ever so slightly toward her. The look in his eyes was a mixture of panic and shame, as though he didn’t want her to see him like this.

“I’m fine,” he croaked, though his voice betrayed the lie. He wasn’t fine. He was far from it.

She inched closer, her hand hovering uncertainly, wanting to reach out but unsure if he’d pull away. “You’re not,” she said softly, her eyes locked on his. “You’re not fine, Bucky.”

He swallowed hard, his throat working against the emotion he was trying to keep down. “Just… leave me alone, please,” he muttered, his voice thick with strain, like it took all of his strength to form the words. “I don’t… I can’t-” His breath hitched, and he turned his head away, his body language curling inward even more as if trying to shield himself from her gaze.

Her heart ached. She couldn’t leave him here, sitting in the dirt, drowning in whatever demons had resurfaced tonight.

Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers lightly brushing against his hand. He flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. Encouraged by the slight opening, she gently took his hand in hers, squeezing just enough to ground him.

“I know maybe I’m not the number one person you want to be with right now, but I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, her voice firm but soft.

Bucky’s breath hitched, his fingers twitching in her grip. He looked down at their joined hands as if struggling to process the kindness in her touch. He didn’t speak, but the tension in his shoulders slowly began to loosen, the rigid line of his back slightly relaxing.

She stayed quiet, giving him the space to come back from whatever dark place his mind had taken him to. The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, it was steady, like the air before a storm breaks. She could feel the weight of his unspoken turmoil pressing down on them both, but she didn’t let go, even when the seconds dragged on.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Bucky let out a ragged breath. His voice, when it came, was low and hoarse. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”

Her lips pressed together. She could hear the self-loathing in his tone, the way he seemed to think he was a burden, something she shouldn’t have to deal with. “I couldn’t just leave you like that,” she said gently. “Not when I knew you were hurting.”

He winced at the word, like it physically pained him to admit that she was right. “You don’t understand,” he muttered, his eyes darting away, staring blankly at the ground.

“I don’t have to,” she countered, her grip on his hand tightening slightly, a quiet reassurance. “You don’t need to explain anything. I just…” She hesitated, then sighed softly. “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re alone. Because you’re not.”

Bucky’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, clearly fighting some internal battle. The vulnerability in his eyes was stark, a raw edge she wasn’t used to seeing in him. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

She frowned. “You don’t get to decide what you deserve, Bucky. Not when you have people who care about you.” Her tone softened as she met his gaze. “And I care about you. So, I’m here. Whether you like it or not.” Without waiting for him to respond, she lowered herself onto the dirt beside him, her dress immediately catching the mud, smearing across the delicate fabric, and her legs. Little branches snagged at her hairdo, but she didn’t care.

Bucky clenched his jaw, her words sinking in deep. He didn’t deserve her -her kindness, her care- after all the terrible things he’d done. How could anyone care for him after what he’d been made to do? But what gnawed at him more was how he’d been with her recently, how he’d pushed her away, knowing his feelings for her were growing too strong to handle. He had been cold, cruel even, thinking it would be easier to keep his distance.

But here she was, not giving up on him. He felt his chest tighten, a tangle of guilt and longing. He didn’t deserve this.

And yet, he couldn’t deny the quiet comfort her presence brought. Slowly, he felt his body ease, his rigid frame relaxing as her warmth seeped into him. His shoulder brushed hers, hesitantly at first, then stayed. This time, he didn’t fight it. He didn’t want to.

The warmth of her body, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, it all felt soothing. He let himself be pulled into the comfort she offered, no longer caring if his attraction to her showed. It wasn’t like he could hide it now, or cared, anyway.

His fingers, rough and scarred, still trembling, brushed against her leg, just a light, accidental touch, but enough to send a shiver up his spine. He wasn’t sure if she noticed, but he did. And this time, he didn’t retreat.

Bucky’s breathing slowed and deepened, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers. His head dipped slightly, not quite resting on her shoulder, but close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her. His fingers shifted again, this time curling just slightly around her thigh. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement, but it felt monumental to him. For once, he wasn’t recoiling, wasn’t hiding behind walls of shame and guilt. He was just… there, with her, feeling what he felt, even if he couldn’t say it out loud.

He glanced up at her again, his blue eyes meeting hers. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t look away. His gaze lingered, searching her face for something, understanding, acceptance, maybe even something more. And what he found there, in her eyes, was enough to make the knot in his chest loosen just a little bit more.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t push him. And in that silence, in the simple act of being there for him, Bucky felt something shift inside him. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

Without thinking, he let out a soft sigh, the sound almost like a release, as his body shifted, and he finally dipped his head to rest it lightly on her thighs. The movement was tentative as if he were bracing for her to pull away, to break the fragile moment. But she didn’t flinch. She didn’t move. She stayed right there, solid and steady, grounding him once again.

When he fully rested his head, her fingers found his hair almost instinctively, gently threading through his disheveled locks. The touch was soft, soothing, and familiar, much like the night before when she had used her healing powers to ease his nightmares. But this time, she didn’t channel any of her energy into him, at least, not yet.

For a few minutes, she simply caressed his hair, her fingertips brushing lightly against his scalp, tracing calming patterns. Bucky’s tense muscles began to relax further, his body sinking into the comfort of her touch. It was grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

After a while, her fingers paused in his hair. Her voice was soft, hesitant but caring as she asked, “Do you want me to… like last night?” There was no pressure in her words, only a quiet offer, giving him the choice.

Bucky didn't respond immediately, his head still resting against her thighs, eyes half-closed as he focused on the sensation of her fingers in his hair. The soothing rhythm of her touch was almost enough, but he knew what she meant, what she could do for him if he let her.

Bucky was silent for a long moment, his body still against her, but the tension returned to his shoulders, subtle but unmistakable. He shook his head once, slowly, almost reluctantly. “No,” he whispered, the word hanging in the air between them. “I… I need to feel this,” he added, his voice rough but steady. “I can’t run from it every time.” It was difficult to say, but he meant it. He didn’t want to escape his emotions, didn’t want to numb the pain or bury the overwhelming feelings inside him. He just wanted to exist in it, to sit in this moment with her without any powers or distractions, even if it hurt.

She then let her hand continue to stroke his hair softly, offering comfort in the simplest way possible. She respected his decision, knowing how much strength it took for him to face these demons on his own terms. “I’m still here,” she whispered, her touch never faltering, her presence solid and unshakable. “If you ever need me.”

Bucky didn’t respond with words, but he relaxed against her once again, his body yielding to the quiet, unspoken understanding that settled between them. Even without her powers, the weight of her presence was enough for him to hold on.

Eventually, the quiet that had settled between them started to fade, replaced by the creeping awareness that they couldn’t stay huddled in the garden forever. The world beyond their little bubble -the event, the people, the expectations- slowly edged its way back into their consciousness.

She shifted slightly, her fingers pausing in Bucky’s hair as she glanced around. The faint buzz of the distant crowd could still be heard from the ballroom, and the glow of lights from the mansion cast long shadows across the topiary. It felt like they’d been gone for hours, though in reality, it had probably only been minutes.

“We should… probably get out of here,” she whispered reluctantly, her voice breaking the comforting silence.

Bucky didn’t move right away, still resting against her lap as if he could ignore the world just a little longer. But eventually, he sighed and sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Yeah… we can’t be seen like this,” he muttered, looking down at the mud stains on his ruined suit.

She glanced at herself and winced. “I look like I’ve been rolling around in the dirt with you,” she said with a half-smile, brushing at the mud streaks on her dress to no avail.

The event was long forgotten by both of them, but the problem remained: how could they get back to the compound without looking like they’d crawled out of a swamp? They exchanged looks, silently weighing their options when suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached.

Before they could react, Sam appeared around the corner, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw them. His eyes widened, taking in the sight of both of them covered in dirt, hair wild with sticks on it, and clothes rumpled. He raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms and leaned against the nearby wall, his smirk growing wider by the second. “Well, well, well,” he drawled out, clearly enjoying the scene. “Looks like somebody took ‘blending in’ a little too seriously. What, did you two get lost in a jungle on the way to the bathroom?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Honestly, I don't even wanna know what y’all were up to, but good luck explaining that to the rest of the team.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but Sam held up a hand. “Nope, no explanations needed. You two look guilty enough as it is.” He winked and gestured behind him. “But seriously, you might wanna get out before Steve or Nat see you. Unless you wanna be the talk for the next month in the compound.”

Bucky cursed under his breath, his voice low and filled with frustration, running a hand again through his already messed up hair, making it even worse. Beside him, she winced internally, knowing they looked like a pair of absolute messes.

“Sammy, do you have any ideas for getting us out of here discreetly?” she asked with a groan.

Sam didn’t miss a beat, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Discretion? Yeah… you two sitting in the bushes covered in dirt totally screams discretion.” His grin widened as he glanced between them. “But sure, I can help. Just let me figure out how to sneak out two people who look like they’ve been rolling around in the mud like… well, you know, two horny teenagers.”

Her face went beet red, and she shot a horrified look at Sam. “Sam, this it no-” she started, but his laughter cut her off.

“Oh, c’mon, I’m just messing with you,” Sam said, winking at her. “But seriously, you two really need to work on your subtlety if you’re gonna sneak off for some ‘alone time.’”

If looks could kill, Sam would’ve been obliterated on the spot by Bucky’s death glare. His fists clenched at his sides, and his voice was a dangerous growl. “Shut it, Wilson. Unless you wanna be the next thing that ends up in the bushes.”

Sam just raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Alright, alright! Chill, Tin Man. I’m just saying, you gotta work on your cover story for when you walk back in looking like that.”

She wanted to disappear into the ground, her mortification complete. But Sam, as always, had an answer. “Tell you what,” he said, slapping Bucky on the back. “I’ll create a distraction. You two sneak around the back, and I’ll make sure no one’s looking when you head out.” he shook his head, clearly relishing the moment. "But I gotta say, this is one hell of a way to ditch a party," he quipped, waggling his eyebrows mischievously. "mud wrestling?"

She groaned, burying her face in her hands, mortified. Bucky shot Sam a withering glare, muttering another string of curses under his breath.

“Next time, let’s stick to indoor adventures, shall we? He added, flashing a grin. Before either of them could respond, Sam turned on his heel. "I'll think of something," he called over his shoulder, already planning his grand distraction.

The night was still, the distant hum of the city barely audible as Bucky and Y/n walked along the deserted road. The event had been on the outskirts, far enough from the city that they had no choice but to hoof it for a while. Neither of them had spoken since Sam’s grand distraction allowed them to slip out unnoticed, both too absorbed in their own thoughts.

Bucky walked a few steps ahead, hands stuffed in his pockets, his shoulders hunched as if he were trying to make himself smaller.

The silence stretched on, heavy but not uncomfortable. Eventually, she huffed softly, the heels she’d stubbornly kept on finally becoming too much. Without a word, she stopped, bending to slip them off. "God, that’s better," she muttered to herself, dangling the shoes by their straps before picking up the pace again to catch up with Bucky.

His gaze focused on her for a moment, lingering and taking in the sight of her -disheveled, dirty, barefooted-. She was a mess, and the tension in his chest twisted painfully, guilt creeping into his mind again, not only because of how he had treated her but also from what transpired that night.

Without saying a word, he shrugged off his suit jacket and gently placed it around her shoulders. The skimpy dress she wore had been fine for the party but wasn’t doing much to protect her now.

She looked up at him, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she accepted the jacket, sliding her arms into the oversized sleeves. The fabric was heavy, enveloping her in warmth, and the sleeves hung so long that only the tips of her fingers peeked out. As she adjusted the jacket on her shoulders, a faint scent of him clung to it, something earthy, mixed with the subtle notes of cedar and leather. It was distinctly Bucky, grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected.

“It’s warm... thanks,” she murmured, her voice quiet but sincere. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but enjoy the comfort of his presence wrapped around her, even if only through the fabric of his jacket.

Bucky kept his gaze straight ahead. After a beat, he broke the silence. “I’m sorry you missed the event because of me,” he said softly, his voice rough around the edges.

Her steps faltered slightly, her fingers tightening around the sleeves as his apology settled over her. She hesitated before speaking, biting her lip as a bitter truth spilled out. “I’m sorry I’m not Natasha.” Bucky’s head whipped toward her, his brow furrowed, and for a moment, his guard slipped. She shook her head, exhaling sharply. “Maybe... I should’ve sent her after you instead of following you myself.”

Bucky's frown deepened. That was the second time she brought up Nat. “Where did you even get that idea?”

She sighed, the weight of her own insecurities pushing her to finally explain. “Because of what Sam said… on the limo. About you being all grumpy because you couldn’t bid in the auction.” She hesitated, her voice wavering slightly. “I thought he meant... you wanted to bid on Natasha.”

Bucky cursed under his breath, his frustration barely contained. “Why the hell would you think that?” he asked, his voice low, almost incredulous.

She quirked a brow, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, a mixture of frustration and vulnerability in her posture. “What else was I supposed to think? You’ve been treating me like the plague, Bucky. Like you couldn’t stand to be around me.” She uncrossed her arms and ran a hand through her hair, exhaling in frustration. “And then when Sam made that joke, it just… it fit, it was obvious he was talking about Nat.” She glanced away, as if admitting it aloud somehow made her feel even smaller.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, a storm brewing behind his eyes as he stepped closer, his voice rough. “That’s not what’s going on. Not even close.”

“Then what is going on?” Her voice wavered as her hand fell to her side.

His hands clenched and unclenched, wrestling with the words he’d buried for so long. Fuck it. "It’s not Natasha," he said finally, his voice rough but clear. "It’s you. It’s always been you."

She blinked, caught off guard. “Me?” The word came out barely above a whisper, soft and disbelieving. Her heart raced, pounding so loud she was sure he heard it.

Bucky’s gaze held hers, raw and unguarded, his jaw tight as if saying the words had cost him more than he wanted to admit. "Yeah, you," he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration. "Why do you think I’ve been avoiding you? I… I didn’t know how to deal with it."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first, her heart still pounding as she tried to find her voice. “Honestly? From where I’m standing, I kind of thought you couldn’t stand me with the way you’ve been acting.” Then, deciding she’d had enough of this back-and-forth, she gathered her courage. "Would it help," she began, her tone softer, more vulnerable, "if I told you I’m into you too?"

Bucky froze, his breath catching as her words hung in the air between them. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. His eyes flickered with a mix of emotions; hope, fear, something close to desperation.

“I...” He dragged a hand over his face, frustration roughening his voice. “I don’t know how to answer that.” He paused, his gaze dropping to the ground before slowly lifting back to meet hers. “Part of me wants to tell you that’s what I’ve wanted to hear... for so damn long. But the other part...” His fists clenched at his sides, tension rolling off him. “I’ve got so much... so much shit I haven’t even begun to unpack. And I don’t wanna drag you into it. I’m damaged goods, you deserve better than I can give. Shit, probably the only thing I can do right now is take.

She stayed quiet for a moment, watching him wrestle with his emotions. Then she shook her head, her voice steady but soft. “I’m a grown woman, Bucky. I’m very capable of making my own decisions. And I’ve decided... I want to give this a try, if you are ok with that.”

Bucky’s expression shifted as he stared at her, the war inside him playing out behind his eyes. “I don’t know how to do this.” he said softly, his words laced with apprehension. He looked at her, his heart pounding, torn between fear and longing. His dirty hand hovered between them, hesitant, but when she reached out and took it, the tension in his chest eased. “I can’t promise I’ll be easy to deal with,” he added, his voice barely audible.

“I’m not asking for easy,” she replied, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m asking for you.”

Bucky stared at her, her words sinking in, and something shifted in his chest. He felt the weight of all his fears and doubts, but her touch, her steady presence, made it seem lighter somehow, like maybe he wasn’t as broken as he thought. Slowly, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it reached his eyes, softening the lines of exhaustion and pain that usually darkened his features. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice a little steadier now, though still laced with disbelief. He stepped closer, narrowing the gap between them, his eyes locked on hers. Her hand was still in his, grounding him, and suddenly, without thinking -no more doubts, no more hesitation- he decided to man up.

In one swift, unguarded moment, he leaned in. His free hand cupped the side of her face, calloused fingers brushing her cheek as he tilted her chin up. He paused just a heartbeat, his breath mingling with hers, before closing the distance. His lips found hers, soft but insistent, a kiss that spoke of everything he’d been too afraid to say. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was something deeper, something that tasted of hope, of taking a chance.

When they finally parted, Bucky’s forehead came to rest gently against hers, their breaths still mingling in the cool night air. Neither of them spoke, the silence more comforting than any words could be in that moment. His thumb absentmindedly brushed her cheek, as if grounding himself in her presence.

For a while, they just stood there, forehead to forehead, until Bucky felt her body tremble slightly against him. He frowned, realizing that despite his jacket draped over her shoulders, they were still out on a desolate road in the middle of the night, and she was dressed for a gala, not a walk through the cold. “You’re freezing,” he muttered, glancing down at her bare feet and legs showing under the hem of his suit.

“Nah, I’m fine,” she started, but her teeth chattered slightly, betraying her words.

Bucky raised a brow, unconvinced. “Come on, climb on my back,” he said, turning around and squatting slightly as if to make it easier for her.

“What?” she blinked, shaking her head. “No way, I can walk.”

He shot her an exasperated look. “I’m not asking. It’s cold, and you’re barefoot. Besides,” he added with a teasing smirk, “I could probably run five miles with you on my back without breaking a sweat.”

She let out a reluctant laugh, still feeling self-conscious. “I don’t know, Bucky…”

“Seriously? I can bench-press a car, and you’re worried about a piggyback ride?” His grin widened, confidence oozing from his voice. “Come on, let me show off a little, after all the crap I put you through."

She hesitated but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, fine,” she sighed, giving in. “But if you drop me…”

“I won’t,” he cut in with a grin, glancing back at her over his shoulder. “Scout’s honor.”

With a roll of her eyes, she finally climbed onto his back, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as his hands gripped her legs effortlessly. His warmth surrounded her instantly, and as she rested her chin on his shoulder, she felt her tension slowly melt away. Then a thought hit her, and she glanced down at her muddy legs. “Your shirt…” she muttered, a little hesitant. “It’s going to be a mess.”

Bucky didn’t even slow down, his grip steady and sure. He let out a low chuckle, his voice a deep rumble she felt against his back. “You think I care about the shirt?” He glanced over his shoulder, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Your thighs are around my waist. Pretty sure I’ve got more important things to think about.”

She couldn’t help but blush at his cheeky remark, and hid her face on his nape. His steady pace, the warmth radiating from his body, and the rhythmic sound of his shoes hitting the pavement soothed her.

As they walked, Bucky’s steps slowed, his gaze fixed on the path ahead, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. “You really sure about this?” he asked softly, his voice quieter than usual. “Sitting in the mud with me while I’m falling apart… that’s not the kind of life I want for you. Hell, that’s not the kind of life I want for anyone.”

She rested her chin on his shoulder again, her arms tightening slightly around him. “I stood with you in the mud because I wanted to. No one forced me. And if that’s part of being with you, then I’ll deal with it. I’m not afraid of your mess.”

Bucky stayed silent for a moment, letting her words sink in. His heart clenched, torn between the comfort of her closeness and the nagging doubt that never fully left him. “You say that now,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s not always gonna be just mud. There’s… stuff I don’t even know how to talk about.”

She tightened her arms around him, her lips brushing against his ear. “Then don’t talk about it yet,” she replied softly. “Just... let me be here. Let me decide what I can handle.”

Bucky’s throat tightened. The weight of her words felt both heavy and freeing, a strange contradiction he wasn’t sure how to process. “I’ve spent so long trying to push people away,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I don’t even know how to let someone in anymore.”

Her lips curved into a small, soft smile against his neck. “Good thing you’ve got time to figure it out, Buck. I’m not in a hurry.”

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky angst #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x curvy!reader #Bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #the winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x female reader #winter soldier fanfiction

106 notes · View notes