#series gifs

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dark Energy 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff

Summary: you become a point of contention between Wanda and Steve.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“I’ll be in and out,” Wanda promises. 

“Oh, okay, are you sure you don’t want me to wait out here?” You peer up at the daunting facade of the large compound marked with an A in a notable swoosh. The Avengers logo adds to your imposter syndrome. 

“Are you serious? That would be awfully rude of me,” she tuts. “It is me who forgot my phone.” 

“Right,” you chew your lip and hurry along with her as she waves her hand and a scarlet aura has the doors opening at her will. 

“Don’t worry so much. My coworkers are probably busy.” 

“Um, yeah, I wasn’t...” 

“And not so intimidating as you think. In their little costumes, eh?” She chuckles. 

You try to laugh. You don’t think they look ridiculous. Some might call it camp but you’re sure there’s some practical use to it all. What would you know? You’re just you. 

“Anyhow, we’ll fetch my phone and be off to the festival,” she assures you. “I am not in the mood to spend any more time with these freaks than need be.” 

She glances at you as you blink in shock at her branding. She clucks. 

“I am joking,” she pokes you. “I tease them and they tease me. Do you know what rhymes with ‘witch’?” 

You make another face and she laughs again. You hurry on, feeling like a little girl rushing after their parent on the way to the principal’s office. Not in a million years would you expect to have a friend as cool as Wanda. Well, she doesn’t seem to mind you and she shows you all sorts of cool things like the cards she reads and the dolls she makes. 

“That’s not very nice,” you say. 

“Not all my friends are as nice as you,” she assures. 

“So you’re friends with the Avengers?” 

“Some,” she shrugs. “Some not so much.” 

She stops at a door and flicks her fingers. They open as she struts forward. You linger and only follow her as you steady yourself. All night, you spent wading in anxiety in anticipation for the berry festival but you are wholly unprepared for this. 

You step into the doorway as she holds out her arm. A little red rectangle flies through the air. She catches her phone with a hum. She taps the screen with her almond nails as she turns to you. 

“There we are. I have the passes here,” she wiggles the screen at you. “My friend, Antonia, she will be selling her scarves and such. She does wonderful work.” 

“Cool, uh, guess we should get going--” 

You spin around, only to walk into a wall that wasn’t there before. You gasp and step back as two hands come up to steady you. You bat your lashes as your eyes flick up. You gulp as you recognise the famous chiseled jaw and golden hair. 

Steve Rogers holds you at arm’s length as your eyes flit up and down. His chest is huge, arms too, biceps exposed as he wears a loose muscle shirt. You’ve only ever seen him in his gear or suited up. On television, not face-to-face. 

He smiles as your mouth falls open. Wow. You've never seen anyone like him. Not aside from Wanda. They really are superhuman. 

“I’m sorry, Captain America,” you say as you gently step out of his grasp. 

Wanda giggle and nudges your side with her knuckles, “no need for all that." She raises her chin, "Steven.” 

He rolls his eyes, “so now you bringing civilians in here?” 

“Not to worry, we are on our way out. No need to sound the alarm,” she sniffs. 

He looks between you, “hi, Steve.” He offers his hand. 

“Oh, there he goes with the manners,” she rolls her eyes. “Come on, we’ve lost enough time.” 

“I don’t know how they do things where you’re from, Wanda, but an introduction is pretty typical.” 

“Well, I know when you’re from and times have changed,” she taunts and takes your hand. “Come, we are late.” 

She pulls you around Steve and you can only let her. You stumble along with her and crane to look back. He’s watching you. He gives a wave then disappears through the door. 

“He’s been such a stickler lately,” she complains. “If he hadn’t been on my case, I wouldn’t have forgotten my phone.” She lets you go as she checks it again. She locks it and tucks it into her red leather coat. “Ah, whatever. Forget about work, we’re going to have all sorts of fun.” 

You can’t speak. You're still in shock that you were in presence of the Captain America. You can feel his grip still warm on your arm. You’re not one of those fan girls but you always thought he was pretty cool. You think most people who aren’t you are. 

Wanda hops into her red convertible and pops on her sunglasses. The cat eyes give her a sleek look. You’re own are too big, inherited from a coworker who was giving them away. Like the rest of your things, you just sort of collected it. Never a voice of your own, just taking what you get. 

“I’ve never been to a berry festival,” you say. 

“Oh, you’ll love it. It’s more than just berries. Mostly stalls. Pies, jams, honey... but then you have the crafters. Like Antonia. Or you can have your tarot read but I must warn you, those swindlers aren’t so accurate as I am.” 

“Mm, yeah, probably just want money.” 

“Precisely, but we might find you a nice deck. I could show you how to read.” She offers as she shifts into gear. 

“Okay.” 

She’s quiet as she adjusts her mirror. You sense her peek at you. You smile at her sheepishly. 

“Forget about him.” She girds. “That captain has a lot of issues You don’t need to get into all that.” 

“I’m not--” 

“The serum made him look that way, he’s still that insecure skinny man inside.” Her voice deepens. “Do you remember when I read your cards? I said you would encounter dark energy. You would fare well to avoid him.” 

“Dark energy? Captain America?” 

“Steven Grant Rogers,” she corrects you. “Just a man. Just another simple man. And at the core, they are all the same.” 

[mandoalorian]

parallel paths [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: You and Bucky travel to Russia on separate flights, with your own seperate missions. The emotional distance between you both deepens, with unspoken tension building. Little does Bucky know, that something has shifted in you.

Word Count: 4200

Tags/warnings: an 18+ series, mentions of torture, brainwashing, Hydra related stuff, canon-typical violence, and a lot of angst.

Masterlist

prev chapter <3 | congress & carnality masterlist

The jet was quiet, save for the soft hum of the engines and the occasional rustle of gear. Rain painted streaks down the window beside him, blurring the endless grey outside into something formless and cold. Bucky sat still, his hands clenched tight in his lap, metal fingers twitching unconsciously every few seconds. The silence wasn’t peaceful—it was punishing.

Across from him, Sam was adjusting his gloves, brows furrowed as he studied the floor plans of the Hydra compound one last time. Joaquin sat beside him, half-asleep, head resting back against the cold wall of the quinjet. They were prepared. Everyone was. Except him.

Bucky couldn’t focus. Not on the map. Not on the plan. Not on anything but the hollow pit in his chest that hadn’t stopped aching since you ran out that door.

He’d told himself not to chase you. Told himself Sam was right—that you needed space, that giving you time was the right thing to do. But every second that ticked by, every mile that passed between your plane and his, felt like a fucking mistake. Like he should’ve run after you anyway.

He wasn’t used to this—loving someone and not knowing how to protect them. Not physically. He could take a bullet for you without hesitation. Break bones. Tear through metal. But he couldn’t seem to talk to you. Couldn’t say the right thing, even when he was trying.

“You should’ve understood,” he thought bitterly. “You should’ve trusted her.”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Trust wasn’t something he gave easily. Not when his past was a minefield, not when his instincts screamed to keep the people he cared about away from danger, even if it meant locking them out completely.

Even if it meant losing them.

“You good?” Sam’s voice cut through the silence, calm but concerned.

Bucky didn’t look up. He gave a small nod, jaw tight. “Yeah.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Sam said gently.

Bucky’s eyes stayed fixed on the rain-smeared window. He wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not yet. He couldn’t explain what it felt like knowing you were in the air somewhere, headed into the same hell he was—but not with him. He couldn’t explain the gnawing fear that if something happened to you, he wouldn't be there to stop it.

He thought about the way you cried when you left. The sound of the door slamming. The look in your eyes like he’d betrayed something sacred. And he had, hadn’t he? He hadn’t listened. Hadn’t heard what you were really asking for.

“You think I’m trying to control you? I’m trying to save you.”

That’s what he told you. But the truth was uglier. He didn’t want to lose you. And the second you brought up the Winter Soldier, the second you said he, of all people, should understand—you’d shattered something inside him.

He did understand. Too well. And that’s why he wanted the base gone. Because sometimes, not knowing was safer than remembering.

But you deserved more than silence and fear. You deserved answers. You deserved the truth.

And he’d pushed you away instead.

“We’re gonna hit the ground and split into two teams,” Sam said after a beat, walking over and crouching beside Bucky. “You, me, and Joaquin plant the detonators. We blow that place sky-high. Yelena and Y/N are searching the west wing for records, labs, whatever they can find.”

Bucky nodded silently.

“You trust her?” Sam asked.

The question was simple. The answer was not.

“Yeah,” he said finally, voice low. “I trust her. I just don’t trust what they did to her.”

Sam gave him a long look, then placed a hand on his shoulder. “Then let’s make sure we find out what that was. And end it. For good.”

The jet began to descend, the dull roar of the engines rising. Red lights blinked above their heads. Joaquin stirred beside them, reaching for his helmet.

Bucky didn’t move at first. He let the weight of it all sit on his shoulders for just a moment longer—the guilt, the fear, the love. Then he stood, adjusting the straps on his tac vest, sliding a pistol into its holster with precision that came more from instinct than thought.

The sky outside was grey as ash as the Russian terrain came into view—cold, dead, unwelcoming.

Bucky gritted his teeth.

He’d come here to destroy Hydra. But if they had touched you—if they had buried any part of your mind, your soul, your fire—

He would tear the whole world down to make it right again.

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The moment you stepped off the private jet, the cold sliced into you like a blade—sharp, merciless, and real. Russia had a particular way of freezing you from the inside out, not just your skin but your bones, your blood, your thoughts. It was like the entire country was trying to remind you that you didn’t belong here. That this place had once swallowed you whole and could do it again.

You pulled your coat tighter and adjusted the straps on your tactical bag. The landscape was a muted gray-blue blur of snowdrift and forest, empty save for the distant silhouette of an old concrete building in the valley. The Hydra base. It looked quiet. Dormant. But you didn’t believe that for a second. Evil like that didn’t sleep—it waited.

Yelena stood beside you, scarf wrapped tight around her jaw, her eyes narrowed as she scanned the mountainside. “Fucking bleak,” she muttered. “Perfect place for nightmares.”

You didn’t answer right away. You were still thinking about the fight. The way Bucky’s voice had cracked when he told you he was just trying to protect you. How his shoulders had slumped when you turned away. The way Sam had to physically hold him back from chasing after you. You’d cried in the car on the way to Yelena’s—ugly, gasping sobs—but now you felt hollow. Like something inside you had been scraped out and left behind.

You opened your phone, thumb hovering over Bucky’s name for a second before you swiped away. Instead, you tapped into the flight radar app and pulled up their plane. “Still in the sky,” you said quietly. “But they’re descending. Looks like they’ll land in twenty minutes.”

“That’s not much time,” Yelena said, leaning over to look. She clicked her earpiece. “Joaquin, come in.”

Crackling filled the silence, followed by Joaquin’s voice. “Copy. You two in position?”

“Just landed,” Yelena said. “We see the target. Going quiet now. But listen—hold the detonators for at least thirty minutes. We’re going in for intel.”

A pause. “Understood. You sure that’s enough time?”

“Not even close,” she said dryly. “But it’ll have to do.”

You looked back toward the compound, your hands flexing in your gloves. The building looked like it had been abandoned for years—concrete weathered and cracked, vines curling up around exposed rebar, windows shattered or boarded. But you knew better. Somewhere inside those walls, someone had kept you locked away like a weapon. You couldn’t explain how you knew that. You just did.

Yelena turned to you. “You stay glued to my side, got it?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Scared I’ll ditch you?”

She gave you a pointed look. “No. I just don’t want to be the one explaining to Bucky Barnes why I let his girl wander off into a Hydra death trap.”

A ghost of a smile flickered at your lips, despite yourself. “He’s not exactly speaking to me right now.”

Yelena scoffed. “Please. Men are all the same. Sulk for a bit, punch a wall, and then do something stupid to win you back.”

“I hurt him,” you murmured. “I said something I shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, well, he hurt you first,” she said without missing a beat. “He should’ve listened. You don’t owe anyone your silence, especially not when your trauma’s involved.”

You swallowed hard, throat tightening as you looked back toward the base. “Let’s move.”

You and Yelena made your way toward the compound, sticking to the tree line. Snow crunched under your boots in soft, muted pops, each step measured, precise. When you reached the south wall, she pulled a collapsible crowbar from her bag and pried open a warped metal vent. It screeched in protest.

“Stay low,” she whispered, dropping into the darkness.

You followed.

The air inside was stale. Musty. It reeked of chemicals and metal and damp concrete, and underneath it all was a scent you couldn’t name—but it made your skin crawl. The hallway was narrow, lit only by the occasional flicker of exposed wiring and broken bulbs overhead. You ducked beneath hanging pipes and sidestepped puddles of oil and meltwater.

Each step deeper into the belly of the building made your chest tighten. This place was alive with memory. Not yours—but someone’s. The walls held onto screams, the floor soaked in sins. You could feel it vibrating beneath your soles. You didn’t just want answers. You needed them. Because the gaps in your memory weren’t just blanks—they were ticking time bombs. And you were tired of waiting to explode.

Yelena held up her hand, signaling for you to stop.

She crouched near a rusted panel on the wall, pried it open, and pulled out a bundle of dusty folders, half-buried under a loose grate. She skimmed the labels, eyes narrowing.

“Intel,” she said under her breath. “And look—this one has your name on it.”

Your stomach dropped.

She handed you the folder, and your gloved fingers trembled as you took it. The name at the top was yours. Typed. Stamped. Real.

“What the hell…” you whispered, opening it slowly.

Inside were photos—some of you unconscious in restraints. Some hooked up to machines. Pages of test logs. Serum markers. Neural rewiring. Trigger phrase development. Everything you hadn’t known you were afraid to see.

You stared at one word printed across the top of a page: Candidate 04. Viable. Responsive. Unstable.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathed.

Yelena pulled out her phone and began snapping photos of everything. “We’re taking it all.”

But the moment the shutter clicked, a loud bang echoed from somewhere deeper in the compound.

Your head jerked up.

Yelena tensed. “Shit.”

The trap had already begun to close.

The echo of the bang vibrated through the metal pipes in the walls. You didn’t know if it was a door slamming or a gunshot—or something worse—but your body reacted before your brain could catch up. Your grip tightened on the folder in your hands. Yelena spun around beside you, drawing her sidearm without hesitation.

“Move,” she hissed, grabbing your wrist and yanking you toward the corridor.

You both ran—ducking under beams and debris, boots slipping on slick, oil-slick concrete. Every door you passed now looked like a mouth ready to open and swallow you whole. You didn’t know what you were expecting—Hydra agents? Security drones? Explosives?

What you weren’t expecting was silence.

No footsteps chasing after you.

No shouting.

Just… silence.

That was worse.

You followed Yelena as she skidded to a halt near a reinforced door tucked at the end of a corridor. A red light blinked on the lock panel.

“This must be a main lab,” she muttered, voice low. “Help me with this.”

You shoved the folder into your backpack and crouched beside her, fingers flying over the cracked screen of the digital lock. Whoever had set this up was good—but not as good as Yelena Belova.

Within seconds, the panel clicked green.

The door creaked open.

You barely had time to register what you were seeing. A room like a tomb—low ceiling, sterile lights, computers blinking sleepily from standby mode. Monitors lined one wall, and in the center of the room—

A chair.

Not just any chair.

The chair.

You froze.

It looked just like the one Bucky had been strapped to in those old files from the Winter Soldier program. The metal armrests, the thick restraints, the electrode ports along the frame. You could feel your pulse fluttering in your throat like a trapped moth. You didn’t realize you’d stopped breathing until Yelena touched your back.

“Don’t,” she said softly, her voice stripped of humor for once. “Don’t spiral.”

But it was already happening. Visions behind your eyes. The flicker of machines, the hiss of restraints. Something cold pressing against your temple. A voice—foreign, male, commanding—speaking in Russian. You didn’t understand the words.

But your body did.

“I’ve been here before,” you whispered. “I knew it.”

Yelena moved to one of the nearby computers and began hacking into the hard drive. “We’ll take everything. Download it, burn it, make it public. You’ll get your answers.”

You didn’t move.

You couldn’t.

Your eyes were locked on the chair as your mind clawed back at fragments it didn’t understand. Metal against your skin. A strap biting into your bicep. Voices—foreign, clipped, cruel.

Then a sudden click. A speaker hissed to life overhead, hidden somewhere in the walls.

And a voice—a man’s voice—began to speak in Russian.

“Подчинение.” (Submission.)

Pain sliced through your head like a blade. You dropped the folder you'd been holding and collapsed to your knees with a choked scream.

“Забвение.” (Oblivion.)

You gasped again, louder this time, clutching the sides of your skull as the lights in the room flickered. It felt like something was scraping the inside of your brain, carving tunnels through your memories.

“Одиночество.” (Loneliness.)

“Stop.”You managed to spit the word out with an empty rasp.

“Страх.” (Fear.)

You screamed so loud it cracked in your throat, your body seizing against invisible restraints. Yelena spun toward you.

“Hey! What’s happening?! What is this?!”

You wanted to answer. You tried. But your mouth wouldn’t move. Your body was no longer yours.

“Служи.” (Serve.)

“Забудь.” (Forget.)

You convulsed again, tears leaking down your cheeks as you writhed on the floor, agony cracking through every nerve in your spine. You could feel your identity unspooling—thread by delicate thread—as if someone were erasing you line by line.

“Y/N!” Yelena shouted, bolting toward you.

But before she could reach you, a shadow appeared in the doorway.

Tara.

Calm. Collected. A glint of victory in her cold eyes.

“You really came back here,” she said softly, stepping inside as the speaker cut off. “How poetic. I do love a full-circle moment.”

Yelena lunged for her. “You—”

But a dart from the shadows embedded into her neck mid-sprint. Her eyes widened. Her momentum faltered.

And she collapsed to the ground.

You were still trembling on your knees, chest heaving. Your mind had been stripped raw, your name dissolving somewhere inside you like ash in water.

Tara crouched down in front of you, brushing a gentle hand across your clammy cheek.

“You remember this feeling, don’t you?” she whispered. “The serum did its job. We knew it would—eventually.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.

But your eyes locked onto hers.

Unblinking. Cold.

She smiled like the devil himself had kissed her brow.

She stood, brushing herself off, and looked down at your still form.

Then she said it—

Softly. Sweetly. Like a lullaby for monsters.

“Are you ready for your mission, Soldat?”

The room hummed with silence.

And deep inside… a switch finally flipped.

Smoke bled through the halls like a living thing.

Bucky’s boots slammed against the metal floors as he sprinted down the last corridor, his rifle at the ready, chest heaving. Joaquin was just behind him, and Sam flanked his left, wings tucked tight against the low ceilings. The detonators were armed. The base was on its last half hour.

But none of that mattered.

All that mattered was you.

“Yelena said they were in the northwest wing,” Sam called out, tapping at the tracker in his hand. “We’re two turns away.”

Bucky didn’t answer. His gut was already doing the talking, twisted up into knots that refused to ease. Something was wrong. He’d been in too many Hydra facilities, too many goddamn hallways like this one to ignore the tension crawling up his spine like barbed wire.

The door at the end of the corridor was already ajar.

Smoke drifted from the cracks.

Bucky burst through first.

And stopped cold.

You were standing in the middle of the room. Not looking at him. Not looking at anything. Just standing. Still. Like a statue carved from flesh and ice.

“Y/N?” he said, voice rough with relief—and confusion.

You didn’t turn around.

His eyes shifted past you.

Yelena lay unconscious on the floor.

Bucky cursed and dropped to a crouch beside her, checking her pulse. It was steady, but shallow. A tranq dart protruded from her neck. His jaw clenched so tightly it popped.

“What the hell happened here?” Joaquin muttered.

The chair was still there. The machine. The monitors blinking dimly. An entire hard drive missing from the wall. The restraints on the chair were open, the scent of sterilized leather and metal still fresh.

“Tara,” Bucky growled, standing slowly. “She was here.”

Sam knelt beside Yelena too, checking her vitals. “She must’ve ambushed them. Took something. But what?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Bucky asked, turning back to you.

You blinked once. Slowly. Then turned your head—just a little. Mechanical. Controlled.

“I’m fine,” you said quietly. That wasn’t even the answer to the question he asked. You didn’t look fine.

There was no tremble in your voice. No breathless relief. No frantic energy from being found.

Just stillness.

It was wrong.

Everything about you was wrong.

But Bucky didn’t want to push. Not here. Not now. You’d been through hell. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was trauma. Maybe the fight from earlier still weighed too heavy on your heart.

He walked toward you anyway, carefully, like approaching a wounded animal. He placed a hand on your shoulder.

You didn’t flinch.

“You’re safe now,” he said softly, trying to find your eyes. “I’ve got you.”

You nodded.

But the emptiness in your expression cut him deeper than any Hydra bullet ever had.

“I owe you an apology,” Bucky huffed out, his eyes glazed with unshed tears. He took hold of both of your hands. “What I said before at the office… fuck, I was so scared of losing you. I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you. I was wreckless and you were right, I was being controlling and I didn’t even realise it.”

You stared at him blankly.

“I’m just glad you’re here, alive, safe, you’re okay,” Bucky continued. “You are okay, right?” He asked with uncertainty in his voice.

“I am okay.” You said.

Bucky didn’t look so sure, but he accepted it, for now. “Okay. Then let’s go home.”

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The sight of the Hydra base crumbling behind them was a bitter one—smoke billowing into the sky like an unstoppable storm, its dark clouds twisting in the wind. It was hard to be proud of what they’d just done, even though it had been necessary. The weight of the destruction still settled on Bucky’s chest like a lead blanket, suffocating, even as the helicraft carried them away from the wreckage.

But it wasn’t the explosion, the victory, or even the aftermath that Bucky’s mind was consumed with. It was you.

You hadn’t spoken a word since the base had fallen. Your eyes were vacant, fixed on the floor of the helicraft, your body curled slightly into itself like you were trying to shrink away from the world. He could feel the tension rolling off you, thick and suffocating, and it made his throat tighten.

Bucky couldn’t sit still. He kept moving his gaze from you to the others—Sam was leaning back against the wall, arms folded tightly across his chest, looking like he was already preparing for the political mess that lay ahead. Joaquin was at the far end of the cabin, hovering over Yelena, who lay unconscious on the floor with oxygen tubes snaking around her face. The air was thick with the buzz of machinery and the low hum of the helicraft's engine, but all Bucky could hear was the beating of his own heart—faster now, heavy with worry.

He glanced back at you. Your fingers were barely brushing against his, but you weren’t holding on, not like you used to.

He could feel the cool distance in your skin. You were there, but you weren’t really there. Bucky wanted to reach out, to pull you close, but the words were stuck in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if anything could make it better.

It was Sam who broke the silence first, his voice a low murmur. “You good, Buck?” He looked over, his expression unreadable.

Bucky nodded, though it was a lie. He wasn’t good. Not by a long shot.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to make his voice steady. “Just… gotta figure things out. Get back to the White House tomorrow.”

You didn’t even look at him.

Bucky swallowed hard. "The snap election is tomorrow. All the votes are going to start rolling in the second the polls close. And then, it’s a waiting game."

His voice was low, almost to himself as much as it was to you, but still, you didn’t react. You didn’t even move.

“I’ll be at the White House all day. Ethan will be there too.” Bucky's chest tightened at the mention of his name, the mention of him—Ethan Halloway, the man who was running against Bucky for president. He was going to be there, under the same roof, as Bucky waited for the nation to choose its next leader. The stakes were higher than ever, and yet, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, not when you were this distant.

“I want you there, though,” Bucky continued, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “Not for the press. Not for the cameras. Just... for me.”

You lifted your gaze then, but it was distant. Your eyes didn’t hold the warmth they used to, the spark that had always been so you. It was hard for Bucky to swallow, the empty space that used to be filled with your strength, your humor, your love.

“Okay,” you said, your voice soft but not quite there. No bite, no fire.

Bucky’s heart cracked just a little more.

“You don’t have to come for the speech or the media bullshit. I just…” He paused, looking for the right words. “I just need you there with me, us. Please.”

The silence between you felt like it stretched across the whole world.

A heavy sigh escaped him. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to ground himself in something solid. He couldn’t keep up this charade. His mind was a mess, and if he didn’t fix things with you, he was sure everything would fall apart. Again.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Bucky said softly, his eyes locked onto yours. “Back at the base. When I apologized for everything.” His chest tightened. “I never wanted to control you. I never wanted to hurt you. But God, I was scared. I was scared of losing you. Losing you, again, after everything.”

His voice cracked slightly at the last word. The raw emotion made his chest ache. He never wanted you to be this hurt, this unreachable. He wanted to protect you, yes—but not from your own choices. Never from your own choices.

You looked at him then. It wasn’t a warm look. It wasn’t a cold one either. It was just... empty. Silent. Distant.

“I’ll make it right,” Bucky added, his words coming out in a rush. “After tomorrow—no matter what happens with the election, I’ll make it right.”

There was a brief pause before you finally spoke.

“Okay.”

The word was barely a whisper. It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t a statement of trust. Just... acceptance. And that terrified him more than anything.

Bucky squeezed your hand, feeling the lack of grip on the other side. The coolness in your skin sent a shiver down his spine. He held you tighter anyway, desperate for something—anything—to break the silence, to bring you back. But it didn’t happen. You didn’t pull away, but you didn’t lean into him either.

“I’m gonna do everything I can to fix this, to make sure nothing like this ever happens again,” he promised, his voice strained with the weight of the burden he felt pressing down on him.

But there was no reaction. No spark in your eyes. Nothing.

Bucky's fingers tightened around your hand, still not letting go. Not yet.

But inside, a cold fear spread, deeper than anything he’d felt before. What if you weren’t coming back?

The helicraft hummed steadily, carrying them toward Washington.

And Bucky Barnes sat in the silence, holding on, waiting for you to come back to him.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Taglist: @imaginecrushes @maplepepperoni @sleepysongbirdsings @sunday-bug @bunnyfella @lktunes12-blog @bellamoret @mrsnikstan @greatenthusiasttidalwave@pancake-05 @theylovethesky @avengersfan25 @nydubs @abitofblues @ferretferretferret @helen-2003 @notreallythatlost @opheliagreenaway @flowerluvr @calzone-d @lil-riddle-kiddle @nameless-ken @ladyvenera @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @josis-teacup @marissa8208@houseofaegon

[ericshoney]

Meeting Nate ~ Secret Sister AU

Summary: After spending time with your birth family, you get to meet Nathan Doe, your brothers best friend.

Warnings: Possible swearing, nicknames, basically fluff

A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates, been busy with work! Thanks for being patient! Love you all! <3

After getting to spend some much needed time with your birth family, your brothers had someone they wanted you to meet.

Nathan Doe. Or Nate, as they called him.

You were quick to learn that Nate was your brothers best friend from childhood and how they spoke about him, he sounded loyal and trustworthy, which made you feel good about him already.

So as you sat with Chris, the boy chatting about nonsense, you heard the front door of the house open and a male voice call out.

"Hey!"

Nick, Matt and Chris jumped up to greet the younger male, large smiles adorned their faces, the room suddenly lighting up with a warm energy.

You stood up from your spot on the sofa and walked over to greet the male. He gave you a puzzled glance but after a few seconds his eyes widened.

"Bro, you look identical to the guys!" He exclaimed.

"Well....We are quads." Nick mentioned with a small laugh.

"I know you mentioned a surprise sister, but damn, you seriously look like them with longer hair!" He expressed excitedly.

"Glad I met expectations. I'm Y/n." You introduced.

"Nate, nice to meet you." He replied, a goofy smile planted on his face.

The five of you sat down, chatting, Nate mostly asking about your life and how you felt now being reunited with your blood family.

"So, where do you fall into the oldest to youngest scale?" Nate then asked.

"I'm younger than Chris by two minutes." You answered, making Chris smile smugly.

"But that doesn't stop him acting like a fucking idiot." Nick teased.

"Shut up!" Chris whined, sticking his tongue out.

"Proving our point more." Matt mumbled.

As the trio argued amongst themselves, Nate gave you a warm smile, as he chuckled at their antics.

"How are you finding it settling in?" He questioned.

"Not too bad. Honestly as I told them, I always knew I was adopted and I was never angry about it. They've welcomed me with open arms and honestly it's like I've been here forever. I know there will be moments it might be awkward but we'll get through it." You answered honestly.

Nate nodded and smiled as Nick, Matt and Chris finished their argument. The conversation became lighter and more playful as the five of you chilled.

And you were happy to meet the guy your brothers trusted with their life. Nate was a good guy, you knew that even in short time.

Tags:

@lgbtq-girl @mattsfavbigtitties @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @riowritesitall @sturniolo-fann @mrvlxgrl @lottieluhvs @cl1tlover3000 @melaniesturniolo @lovesturni0l0s @blahbel668 @emely9274 @nicksloverrr @pancjfrjb @luvr4miya @artloo123 @n0aa @sturn-rose @ivysturnss @thetriplets3  @itsjulzandmydiamonds @sturniolos4life16 @courta13 @itsjulzandmydiamonds @sturniologirly @mandmilovehim @slutforchrissturniolo2

Dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws

[jdramaflow]

⚲ HOT SPOT ホットスポット 2025, dir. Yamada Nobuyoshi,  Mizuno Kaku, Matsuda Kento.

[xuperjr]

[wwditsdaily]

NANDOR THE RELENTLESS and GUILLERMO DE LA CRUZ WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS "The Finale"

[tokoyamisstuff]

Second Chance At Love Pt. 3

Variant! Invincible x gn! Reader

Warnings: angst, blood, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, not proofread A/N: don't worry, this is not over yet! and sorry to all the og Mark fans lmao

[A few minutes earlier, Pentagon Medical Ward]

"So you left my friend alone with this freak the whole time?!"

Cecil's thumb was hesitating on the trigger for the high-frequency device, not wanting to stain his relationship with the original Mark any further - but after witnessing what his variants were capable of, he's certainly not taking any chances.

"Calm. Down." he urges the young Viltrumite while trying to remain amenable at the same time. "We needed to take care of the active threats beforehand, and also...he seemed quite fond of your friend." That last part he regretted immediately after saying it aloud.

"You can't be serious!" Mark now screamed, dramatically throwing his hands in the air, thus making all nearby agents cower in fear. "It was you who told me that one of those psychos tried to lure my mom out to kill her! What else do you think this is? He made my friend believe he's me, to play some sort of wicked game!"

All that had happened those past few days...the death and destruction...Mark blamed himself for all of it, because at the bottom line everything was inevitably caused by his own lack of resolve.

And there he was, hiding away at Eve's sickbed like a stubborn child, cowardly refusing to take responsibility as earth's last hope, while others were risking their lives to correct his errors, hell, while his brother and mom were still out there!

Once again he let everyone down.

But Mark won't let any more people he cares about suffer because of his own shortcomings. This time he won't hold back...

...he'll kill this variant and make him pay for what he's done.

Picking up his mask from the counter, he bids his still comatose girlfriend one last look, very well aware how disappointed she'd be at his latest decisions. She'd want him to go. So he mutters a silent apology before rushing into the hallway, with Cecil following closely behind.

"Teleport me to them. And you better send as many backup reanimen as you can."

[Current time]

"Careful Mark. If our observations are correct, this one is way stronger than the others." The hero huffs in annoyance upon hearing Cecil's voice from his earpiece, watching his other self come out of the debris with not a hair out of place.

Well, most of the variants probably never faced any real threat or even slight disadvantage in their lives. There was simply no reason for them to train properly, since the powergap between Viltrumites and any other species was just so ridiculously high.

This version of Mark however spent his entire life preparing his vengeance on Omni-man for taking the one and only thing he truly cared about...

...and his hard work seemed to bear fruit, since a single counterattack of his was painful enough to temporarily stun the original. He seized the opportunity to pin his opponent down, landing one severe blow after another until both of them were completely covered in the original Mark's blood.

"NO!" you screamed at the top of your lungs, having thrown yourself onto the variant's back as you - brave yet very foolishly - tried to to get those two behemoths away from each other. And in the end, your struggle and pleas actually made the variant stop in his tracks. "Please...don't kill him."

For a split second you see the look of heartbreak and betrayal in the man's face, since seeing you still care so much for the original erased all hope he had started to harbor.

Your world's Mark has everything he ever wanted, and he doesn't even understand how lucky he is.

This is so fucking unfair, it's driving him insane.

The Viltrumite raises his bloodied knuckles to his temples, his jealousy spiraling into a violent, irrational urge to tear the original apart and take his place.

And yet he tries to keep it together for your sake as he couldn't bear to cause you any more sorrow. He glares you down with so much malice "That was self-defense" he scoffed through strained breaths, desperately trying to prevent himself from having a mental breakdown. "I wasn't actually going to-"

Now it was the original Mark's chance to turn the battle around, grabbing the variant by the throat as he crushed him against a mountain not far from the hill you were on.

While your former friend was completely disregarding you, rationality overthrown by his wrath, the other Invincible's eyes were practically glued to you in concern for your safety. At first he was holding back, letting the attacker use him as a punching bag in hopes it'd calm him down...

...but when he recognized the capsules transporting reanimen falling from the sky, he pounced on you with no forethought, shielding you from the impact with his own body.

"Shit, are you oka-" Another time he was torn away from you, with Mark yelling at him to keep his filthy hands off of you. And yet with every move, no matter what, the other Mark did a way better job to prevent any harm than the one who came to 'save' you from that very same man.

"Dude, that's exactly why we cannot fight here!" the variant reprimanded his counterpart while severing the head and limbs from several cyborgs. "Think about your partner's safety! We both only want what's best for them, right?"

"Huh?" The original Mark gave a puzzled look at that statement, the word 'partner' obviously made him think of Eve, but his eyes briefly flickered towards you. "What's that supposed to mea- ah, whatever."

In any other context you would've probably been so embarassed that you wished for the earth to swallow you whole - but this is neither about you, nor was it the time for this kind of talk. And luckily, Mark didn't overthink the variant's words but focused on the truth in them instead, swiftly throwing you over his shoulder to bring you away, so that they could continue their battle without endangering you.

"Let. Me. Go!" You repeatedly punch against Mark's back, horrified to see your newfound friend down below trying to stand his ground against the reanimen. "Tell them to stop! None of this is necessary!"

"Hey, it's me!" Mark tries to soothe you, convinced that you're just overwhelmed by today's events. "The real me, okay? Stop being so irrational!"

"Yeah, I know that, you blockhead!" you blurt out in anger, "And you're one to talk! You let your emotions dictate your actions, as always! I thought Invincible spares the bad guys and tries to talk it out?"

"...not anymore. We all saw today how that way of dealing with villains turns out." Letting you down so far away that you can't even see how the variant is holding up anymore, Mark is about to leave and finish the job when you manage to get a hold of his wrist. "Wait. Listen to me, that Mark is not entirely evil!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" So not only did you know it was a variant, but now you're also defending him?! "The trauma messed with your head or something. Let Cecil's people pick you up and check on you."

"Seriously, Mark." He finally turned around to take a proper look at you, grinding his teeth as he recognized that naive, caring attitude of yours that always had a positive influence on him in the past. It made his heart swell with both admiration and envy...

...because why the hell were you advocating for a malicious version of himself, especially after throwing away your friendship over something he had no control over?!

"You know this guy one fucking day and suddenly you're on his side?" the hurt in his voice was so tremendous, you felt as if the guilt of it swallowed you whole. "You were supposed to be my friend, and he's the one who participated in making mine and many other's lives a living hell! So why?!"

"...it would be a waste to kill off a potential ally of this strenght, would it not?" Your reasoning got accentuated by the sound of metal and flesh clashing in the background, and you secretly hoped the variant was doing okay. "Maybe he can be rehabilitated."

"God, you sound like Cecil...but even he draws a line at some point. This guy is irredeemable!" Mark ran a hand through his hair, pacing around in circles to clear his head - and yet it was like your role in all this was the one drop that made the pot boil over. "He needs to be stopped! You've seen it yourself, he leveled several cities to the ground and killed a great amount of heroes! Shit, he's caused millions of deaths, do you have any idea what that means?!"

There was nothing to add to this. He was right, about absolutely everything. And yet...

"He-he needed to fullfill his part of the bargain, or Angstrom would've-" A loud bang echoed through the air as Mark's fists met the ground in frustration, effectively cutting you off. "Fuck, do you even hear yourself?! He always had a choice to join the fight on the right side instead of wasting his time chasing after yo-" There was a gleam of epiphany in his eyes that made you a little anxious whether he had picked up on the hints.

"Look, I'm not trying to justify his actions." You pry one of Mark's fists open, intertwining your fingers with his. "But we need him..."

"...we, or you?" That question caught you off guard, but when you wanted to stumble away but Mark pulled you right back. "What he talked about earlier...are we a couple in that other dimension?"

Sometimes you tend to forget that he isn't as dull as he comes across. Damn it.

"I-I-I....it's more complicated than that. I...died in his world." You shouldn't even be arguing about something so pointless right now, and you also don't want to burden him any further, but he keeps prying.

"So what, you want to become the moral support of a mass murderer?" Worded like this it does sound pretty awful. "I know you cut me out of your life, but I still care about you. No way I'm gonna let that happen. It's too dangerous."

Those feelings you harbored over the past decade were like a chain weighting heavy around your heart - but instead of communicating like an adult, you dwelled in self-pity and pushed your friend away. And as crazy as it sounds, over time you convinced yourself there's no way out of this, nothing else awaiting you...

...that was until you met the other Mark, however.

No better timing to free yourself than now, you thought, but Mark connected the dots faster than you were able to confess. "...why did you never say anything?"

"Oh c'mon, you've been doting on Eve since highschool." Mark was not the person to back out of a friendship like this, even if though he didn't reciprocate. If you had told him he'd certainly would've found a way to make this work, since he didn't want to lose you. And yet you didn't want to give the two of you the chance to overcome this, rather choosing to hurt him before you get hurt.

What a stupid, selfish teenager you were back then...

"Now it all makes sense" he speaks to himself, shyly glancing over to you again as he covers his blushing cheeks with his hands. "Fuck, I'm such an idiot..."

"Nonsense, I'm the ass for ruining our friendship over a silly crush." That was the understatement of the year - you were head over heels for this man.

He seems almost melancholic thinking back to all the moments he should've noticed what's going on. All this time wasted going no-contact when you could've worked things out instead...but it takes two to do that, and he's certainly not the one to blame.

Turning his head towards the noise of the ongoing fight, he shakes his head in disbelief. "This is so fucked up..."

"Tell me about it" you chuckle, playfully poking his side in an attempt to lighten the mood, and both of you give each other an appreciative smile. "But we shouldn't make rushed decisions in our current state, right?"

Mark lets out a shuddered sigh, realizing just what kind of hole your absence has tore in his life. But you'll manage to get back to how things were between you. This was a ray of hope cutting through the storm he's been caught into, ever since becoming a superhero.

"God, you have no idea how much I've missed you..."

There's no more time to waste, everything else has to wait until much later. Mark brings you back with him, a safe distance away from where the variant was still battling reanimen that just kept coming. Upon seeing Invincible he raises his guard again, but much to his surprise he's not attacked again, quite the opposite.

"Cecil, stop them!" your Mark exclaims into the comm as he jumps in between the crowd of cyborgs, giving a quick nod of acknowledgement to his other self. "He won't resist if we take him prisoner, right?"

"Sure..." the variant murmured, raising a brow in confusion. But indeed, the mechanical soldiers stop and he gets immobilized by Mark without fighting back. He looks up to you as if seeking your approval, and you quickly rush to their side, scolding Mark for being so harsh with his precautions.

"Are you hurt?" you whisper as the GDA agents transport you back to the Pentagon by helicopter, only the real Mark having flown ahead. You however refused to leave the variant's side, even though you've been strongly advised to go home, at least until the situation was less intense.

"This is nothing..." The Viltrumite huffs in amusement that you were worried about him of all people. He looks down to the shackles around his arms and legs that could never actually hold him, daring to crack a smile which you gladly mirrored. "But thanks that you stood up for me...even though I still don't understand why."

"Because I believe in you, so you better not disappoint me!" you chant, whearing a quiet whimper escape his throat when you put a reassuring hand on his knee. "Everything is gonna be alright, I'm sure of it. We're gonna figure it out...together, okay?"

A few hours later and you were still waiting in a hallway of the GDA, the feeling of suspense only worsened by all the pitying and disgusted looks some of the agents were shooting you. It was understandable, of course, since they probably saw you throwing yourself at the enemy live and in HD.

"I couldn't care less about whatever you two got going on" Cecil explains with his usual stoic manner, "but he refuses to talk and we don't have time for this."

You knew the opportunistic geeze was at least partly bluffing - he's most likely already planning on how to utilize Invincible's affection for you to control him.

Upon entering the prison cell you gasped at the gigantic apparatus containing him, all of his limbs encoated by a metal you didn't recognize in order to keep him from making any move. Honestly, it felt like no matter what they tried, he was only here because he wanted to be. If you told him to break out right now he'd most likely wreck this place in one milisecond.

The variant's defeated features brighten as he recognizes who was paying him a visit, but the initial excitement was soon pushed back by his newfound guilty conscience. He didn't expect to ever see you again, let alone you voluntarily entering the lion's den.

"I'll accept whatever punishment you deem necessary" he rasps, greatly worried at the possibility of them using you against your will. "Just leave them out of this."

Cecil nudged the bridge of his nose, groaning exaggeratedly. It sure isn't easy making objective decisions when you're that emotionally involved with the Grayson family - although he'd never admit the soft spot he had for them.

Not to mention, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to get his hands on one of the two literal strongest men on the planet.

"Well for starters you'll help with rescue and rebuidling" he ultimatively decides, talking to the young man like one would scold an unruly child. "Consider this your last chance. And don't you dare taking a break until this whole planet has recovered from the aftermath of your crimes. I don't want to see you eating, sleeping or even breathing without any supervision. Got it?!"

"Yes, Sir..."

A single gesture of his hand enough to make his underlings free the Viltrumite from his confinements. "Give him a new costume so he doesn't scare the survivors...and insert an ultrasonic implant, just to be sure."

Mark rubbed his sore wrists, baffled with this decision. He had expected nothing less than torture, that they'd experiment until they'd find a way to execute him...but this? Ridiculous. Hardly a punishment.

Not that he's complaining, though.

At long last, you were facing each other again, those brief hours of separation feeling like an eternity apart. Crazy to think you barely even know this man - well, the fact that he was so much like the original Mark may have messed with your perception of time...

...or you were simply going crazy as well, who knows. Anyways, it did not feel wrong. If anything you've never been this happy in years.

The Viltrumite seems conflicted, his muscles occasionally twitching out of the desire to be close to you, to touch and hold you and never let go again. But then he detects the tears of relief in your eyes, misinterpreting them negatively and backing off even further.

Right...he doesn't deserve to be anywhere near you.

"You didn't need to...you shouldn't be here." He faces the ground in shame, blinking back tears of his own as he speaks. "Not after what I did."

"Damn it, Mark..." you half-yell, half-whine as you run straight towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso as if to press all of his broken parts back together. "Just...shut up. I'm capable of making my own decisions, whether you like them or not."

What a strange one you were. He wasn't even sure if his dimension's version of you had been that amazing of a person.

"Can't argue with that..." His hands tentatively finding purchase on your sides, and you instantly feel him melt at the feel of your body against his. "But it seems like we won't be able to meet each other for a while..."

"I can wait..." you shrug, beaming up at him with an almost playful tone. "...as long as you promise to take me on another date, would you? Without robots and death-matching yourself next time, if possible."

Mark smiled.

He did so many times ever since you met of course, but it always seemed like he was mimicking genuine human interaction, as if he was forcing himself to put on a facade in order to make you comfortable.

But this one, right here, right now...it was real, and so, so beautiful.

Hopefully you see more of it in the future.

"Oh, I think after you've seen how far I'd go for you, it's safe to say I can't deny you any wish..."

[Next Part]

[usernanami]

KEN TAKAKURA/OKARUN in Dandadan (2024) 01.05 - "Like, Where Are Your Balls?" ★ タマはどこじゃんよ

[giflxndia]

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Series master list:

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

!!COMPLETE!!

Chapter one: Ultimatum

Chapter two: Separate Worlds

Chapter three: A Stormy Prison

Chapter four: Beneath the Surface

Chapter five: A Dance of Silence

Chapter six: In the Quiet of the Storm

Chapter seven: Closer Than Before

Chapter eight: Cracks in the Armor

Chapter nine: Under Pressure

Chapter ten: Unmasked Tension

Chapter eleven: The Hunt Begins

Chapter twelve: Under Watchful Eyes

Chapter thirteen: Behind Closed Doors

Chapter fourteen: Eyes on the Game

Chapter fifteen: The Game, the Silence, and the Weight of the World

Chapter sixteen: A Moment of Vulnerability

Chapter seventeen: The Panthers Eyes

Chapter eighteen: The Panthers Threat

Chapter nineteen: A Dangerous Encounter

Chapter twenty: Walls and Tension

Chapter twenty-one: The Distance Between Us

Chapter twenty-two: Power not Pity

Chapter twenty-three: Beneath the Mask

Chapter twenty-four: Fractured Walls

Chapter twenty-five: The Invitation

Chapter twenty-six: Fight

Chapter twenty-seven: Disappear Without a Trace

Chapter twenty-eight: The Weight of Silence

Chapter twenty-nine: Unspoken Promises

Chapter thirty: Fractured Lines

Chapter thirty-one: Behind the Walls

Chapter thirty-two: A Line in the Sand

Chapter thirty-three: What He Left Behind

Chapter thirty-four: Lines Crossed

Chapter thirty-five: Fractures In The Mask

Chapter thirty-six: Unfinished Conversations

Chapter thirty-seven: Something to Hold on to

Chapter thirty-eight: Closer Together

Chapter thirty-nine: A step forward

Chapter forty: Uncharted Territory

———————

Thank you!

[littledark11]

He makes my skin crawl very badly but she's trying so hard to please him but he's just being insufferable.

It doesn't matter how she feels as long as he's happy as long as he gets what he wants at the end of the day.

I've Got You Under My Skin 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Summary: your husband is a very demanding man.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The keys jingle loudly as you rush out the door with your purse in your other hand. You just need to get out of the house. Sometimes, it feels like a prison. Especially lately. Since the fight.

You feel horrid for what you did. You made a mistake, sure, but you think Steve is right. You weren't paying attention to what he said. Now that you think of it, you may have misinterpreted your conversation based entirely on your own doubts.

Still, you're going to show him that you can do this. You've been reading up on it all night. Researching everything you need.

As you hit the button on the key tag, the car beeps and unlocks. The SUV is a bit bigger than what you would pick but Steve thought it was a good family vehicle. Besides, it's his money.

"Hey," he startles you as he appears from beside the garage. You blink and drop the keys.

"Hi, Stevie," you blanch and bend to pick up the keys as he approaches.

"You're running out," he doesn't sound impressed.

"Um, yes, um, doing some errands. Groceries."

"You could order."

You gulp, "I'm sorry. I was only... wanting to get out."

"Alone?" He inquires.

"Yeah, what--"

"You're not meeting up with Natasha for one of those sugary coffees?" He challenges.

You wince. "No, Captain. I'm not drinking caffeine anymore. It's not good... for conception."

He tilts his head and his cheek dimples, "ah, good girl."

"Do you want to come with me?" You offer.

His shoulders ease, "no. You can go. Grab some more protein. The banana stuff?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Drive safe," he girds.

"I always do."

He nods and turns back, "I'm gonna finish up the weeds."

You stare after him as he marches away. What does he mean? You just dealt with the garden. Once again, not good enough.

You get in the car and adjust the wheel and the seat. You buckle up and set your feet on the pedals. You flip the engine and put it in reverse.

You back out through the gate and onto the street. You drive, jaw locked, fingers cramped, tense in anticipation. You just want to make this better. You just don't know if it's too late.

You go to the grocery store first. You get the few items on your list. You have a lot of the staples still in the cupboards. You check out and use Steve's card. You don't have one anymore. He's a lot better with money than you.

Your next adventure makes you nervous. You stop outside the shop and stare through the window at the stuffed bunnies and the onesies. The maternity shop makes it all so real. You still feel so young. But you can do this. With Steve. He knows what he's doing.

You enter and the air rushes from your chest. Oh. Okay. That breast pump makes you nervous.

"Hi, how can I help you?" A woman chimes an approaches in a bubbly bounce. Her blond ringlets are perfect.

"Ummmm..." you fidget with your phone. "I looked online. Um, for prenatal supplements."

"Ah, yes, we have a whole aisle," she waves her arm and turns to stand beside you. "Do you have questions?"

"A lot," you admit.

"How long have you been trying? Oh, are you already expecting?" She wonders.

The questions feel too personal. Still, it's not like you came here without a purpose. You follow her to the far wall lined with bottles and vials of tablets.

"We're trying. Right now. Starting to. I just want to be healthy." You explain.

"Uh, huh, wonderful," she rubs her hands together. "Some of these you won't need until you're expecting but we can get you a few things. Maybe just have a look around for some inspiration, huh?"

"Sure, that sounds... good."

She explains to you all the organic supplements and even recommends some aphrodisiacs. Thing is, Steve doesn't need those. You pick a few and follow her around as she shows you mobiles and blankies. There's a little Cap squishee even. You pick it up and smile. He'll love that.

You take your goods to the counter and she rings you up. You dig in your purse and hand your card to her. She reads it passingly then pauses. 

"I thought you were familiar. Your Mr. Rogers. The Mrs. Rogers."

You squirm. Oh no. You forget how famous Steve is. Well, it's fine. It's not like she would tell anyone you know, right?

You just nod, "do you have bags?"

"Oh yes, I'll put this all away for you," she unfolds a paper bag and loads it up. "Anything else, Mrs. Rogers."

"Yeah," you choke. "My name's..." you correct her. Sometimes, you just feel like a part of Steve. Not your own person. "Thanks."

You take the bag and your card and leave. You sniff as you get to car and climb into the front seat. You put your purchase in front of the passenger's and sit there a while. You feel weird about this.

Just nerves. You start the car and head home. The trip is too quick. You're not ready.

You get out with the small paper bag and go around the trunk to get the reusable one with the T-bone steak and protein powder. You hit the button to close the hatch and go inside. You'd love to stay out in the sun but you couldn't relax if you tried.

"Stevie?" You call as you reach the kitchen. "Hello?"

He doesn't answer. You wonder if he's outside. You set to putting everything away.

"You're back." He greets, once more frightening you. You hate that.

"I got steak for supper. For you. I'll have some turkey."

"Great," it's not a happy remark. "You didn't come straight home."

You look away guiltily and shake your head. You're so stupid. You know he must have a tracker on the car. You grab the white paper bag.

"I was getting surprises." You offer him the bag. "Stevie, please, I'm sorry. And I meant it. I am trying."

You hold it out and he reaches inside with a scowl. His brows move in curiosity and he pulls out the Captain America plush. His expression softens and he peeks into the bag.

"Supplements. To get ready. And I'll go back for iron pills once I'm ready," you explain. "And I've been reading all night about how to get a baby. I should lay on my back and stay after for a bit. And-- and I ordered a book."

He tosses the plush and grabs you. His hands frame your face as you drop the bag and he pushes you back into the counter. His mouth covers yours as he growls.

You whine and touch his chest, overcome by his force. You were so afraid he wouldn't forgive you, that you're entirely unprepared for this. You manage to pull back.

"I-- Stevie, it won't happen now. But I threw everything out."

"I don't care," he snarls and drops his hands to your hips, "I need you right now." 

He lifts you onto the counter and you squeal. Your stomach flips but you ignore that flicker of fear. How you feel doesn't matter, as long as the Captain's happy.

[mandoalorian]

classified desire [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: In Tokyo for an international conference, you watch Bucky command the stage with effortless confidence—until a question about his love life throws you off balance. His public denial of looking for love stings more than it should, leaving you questioning everything between you. But back at the hotel, tension boils over into heated confessions and even hotter passion, forcing you both to confront the truth you’ve been running from: this was never just a distraction.

Word Count: 1800

Tags/warnings: 18+ explicit content. employer x employee, p in v, bit of bdsm vibes/slapping, rough sex, intimacy, miscommunications, slow burn with sex

Masterlist

prev chapter <3 | congress & carnality masterlist

The conference hall was buzzing with flashing cameras and murmuring reporters, the air thick with anticipation. You stood off to the side, clipboard in hand, watching as Bucky Barnes took the stage with the effortless confidence of a seasoned politician. Dressed in a crisp navy suit, his tie perfectly knotted, he was the picture of control—composed, articulate, and undeniably commanding.

The panel began smoothly, with Bucky fielding questions about foreign policy, trade relations, and security initiatives. His answers were precise, measured, and laced with just the right amount of charisma. You knew he was good at this—of course, you did. But seeing him like this, holding an entire room captive with nothing but his presence and his words, sent a shiver down your spine. It was almost unfair how attractive he was when he was in his element.

Then, the inevitable happened.

"Congressman Barnes," a journalist called out. "You’ve been in the public eye for quite some time now, and naturally, people are curious. Is there anyone special in your life? Any plans to settle down?"

The question sent a jolt through you, your grip tightening on your clipboard. You kept your expression neutral, but your heart pounded as you waited for his answer.

Bucky gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. "I appreciate the curiosity, but no, I’m not looking for love. My focus is on my work. There’s a lot to be done, and right now, that’s where all my attention is."

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to remain composed. It was the answer he had to give, the one that made sense. But it still stung. You knew what last night had been—what all of this was. Just a distraction. You had told yourself the same thing, hadn’t you? So why did it feel like a punch to the gut?

The conference continued, but you barely registered the rest of it. Your eyes remained on Bucky, on the way he commanded the room, but your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t afford to let your feelings get in the way. You were here to do a job, and that was all this had ever been.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

The car ride back to the hotel was silent. Bucky sat beside you, his fingers tapping idly against his thigh, but he didn’t say a word. You didn’t either. It was better that way.

By the time you arrived, exhaustion had settled deep in your bones. You should have gone straight to your room, should have put as much distance as possible between you and the man who had just reminded the entire world that love was the last thing on his mind.

But instead, you found yourself outside his door.

He opened it without a word, stepping aside to let you in. The tension was immediate—thick, suffocating. You turned to face him, arms crossed over your chest, trying to keep your emotions in check.

"Nice answer today," you said, your voice clipped. "Really convincing."

Bucky sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. The conference had fallen over an hour long, and yet Bucky knew exactly which question you were referring to. ”What did you want me to say?"

Your breath caught at the suddenness in his voice, but you recovered quickly. "I wanted you to be honest.” You said plainly. 

"I was honest," he shot back, stepping closer. "I can’t afford to be looking for love, remember? Isn’t that what you said? That this—whatever this is—needs to wait?"

You hated the way your stomach twisted at his words, hated the way you had set this boundary and were now resenting him for respecting it. "I don’t know what you want from me, Bucky."

He exhaled sharply, eyes darkening. "I want you. Fuck, I always want you. But I’m not going to beg for something you’re not ready to give."

The room felt too small, the air too hot. Every muscle in your body was tense, fighting against the pull, against the overwhelming desire that had never gone away.

Then Bucky moved. One second, there was space between you. The next, he had you against the wall, his hands framing your face, his mouth crashing into yours.

The kiss was searing—deep, desperate, full of all the things neither of you had been able to say. You whimpered against his lips, fingers fisting his shirt as he pressed his body against yours, erasing every inch of space.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against your skin, just like he had on the plane.

You didn’t.

When he kissed you, it was like the world stopped spinning, and nothing else mattered. Your job didn’t matter, his job didn’t matter, it was like you were the only two people and in this very moment you made up one whole. That was it — that was his superpower. 

Instead, you pulled him closer, capturing his lips again in a kiss that stole your breath. That was all the confirmation he needed. He lifted you easily, damn Super Soldier, carrying you across the room before lowering you onto the plush hotel bed. You sighed in contentment as you hit the warm sheets, enveloping into the softness of them.

Within seconds, your blouse and bra were off and discarded haphazardly on the floor. 

Bucky’s hands roamed, mapping every curve and every inch of skin he could reach. His mouth followed, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, your collarbone, the valley between your breasts. When he reached the waistband of your skirt, he paused, his blue eyes locking onto yours.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he murmured, voice thick with need.

“Well, it’s been about ten hours since the plane…” you retorted smartly, but he was quick to wipe the smirk off your face when he pinched at your nipple.

You shivered as he peeled away the rest of your clothes, his hands reverent, his touch almost worshipful. He took his time, savoring every reaction, every gasp and moan that spilled from your lips as he explored your body with his fingers, his mouth, his tongue.

Bucky wasted no time, getting onto his knees and pulling your legs up so they rested on his shoulders. He towered over you, his metal hand reaching to cup at your face. “I want you to look at me while I fuck you.” He growled, pushing his cock between your folds teasingly. “Eye contact, doll.”

Just like the plane, by the time he finally slid inside you, you were already unraveling. He moved slowly at first, dragging out every sensation, making sure you felt every inch of him. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered your name like a prayer.

"You feel so fucking perfect," he groaned, his pace quickening, his grip on your hips tightening. "Like you were made for me."

Your nails raked down his back, pulling him impossibly closer. “Bucky—"

You closed your eyes briefly, and you felt a sharp sting come to your face. Bucky slapped you, and his thumb grazed your cheekbone as he kept you pinned down. “I told you, eyes open. On me at all times.”

“Eyes on you,” you repeated breathlessly, focusing extra hard. His eyes were so beautiful, blue like the ocean yet dark with lust. The eye contact made it feel even more intimate than it had before. It was like Bucky was reading your mind, staring into your soul. Often, you struggled to read Bucky’s expression, but he always knew exactly what was going on in your head. 108 years of experience on this planet would do that to someone, you guessed.

“Mhm, I’m close.” Bucky groaned, his dark brown hair sticking to his skin as he picked up his pace, faster and deeper.

“Fill me up,” you mumbled, pulling his face down to your lips for another messy kiss. “I want to feel you inside of me for the rest of the day, leaking out…”

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky cursed before spilling his seed into you. You cried and arched your back into him, your walls clamping down on his cock, milking him for all he had. “You’re perfect.”

The words made you feel warm inside.

Or maybe it wasn’t just the words. 

As your bodies cooled and your breathing evened out, silence settled over the room once more. Bucky lay beside you, one arm draped over your waist, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your skin.

"Say something," he murmured after a while.

You stared at the ceiling, your heart still racing. "I don’t know what to say."

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. "Then just listen. Because I need you to understand something."

You swallowed hard, nodding.

Bucky exhaled slowly, as if steadying himself. "I meant what I said today. I wasn’t lying—I can’t afford to look for love. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean I don’t want you."

Your throat tightened. "Bucky—"

"No," he cut you off gently, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You keep saying this has to wait, that it can’t happen now. But you’re the only one putting those rules in place. Not me. I’m not afraid of what this means. I’m not afraid of loving you. So if you are, just tell me. But don’t pretend like this doesn’t matter."

Tears burned at the back of your eyes. You had spent so long convincing yourself that this couldn’t happen, that it would ruin everything. But lying here, wrapped up in him, listening to him say the things you had been too afraid to admit…

You realised you had already lost the fight.

You reached for him, cupping his face, pulling him into a kiss that was soft, lingering. When you pulled back, his expression was unreadable, but his grip on you tightened, as if afraid you would disappear.

"I don’t want to be afraid anymore," you whispered. “Bucky… I—“

A loud knock at the door startled both you and the Congressman. You flinched at the noise, and Bucky’s grip on you tightened. 

“Mr. Barnes, dinner reservation has been set for 7pm.” A soft voice called out. The voice belonged to Tara, Bucky’s campaign manager. She had flew out to Tokyo earlier in the day to organise the press conference. 

You lay there, frozen in his arms. “You were saying…?” Bucky coughed awkwardly.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “We have dinner reservations?”

“I guess so.” Bucky sighed, rolling onto his back.

“I don’t have anything to wear.” You thought out loud.

“Well then, we best go shopping.” Bucky smiled before pulling both himself and you out of the bed.

You came so close. So close to admitting your feelings to yourself but maybe now wasn’t the right time. This felt so new and fresh, and the startling of Tara banging on the door just reminded you that your job had to come first. Without this job, you had nothing.

You just hoped that Bucky would understand. 

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Taglist: @imaginecrushes @maplepepperoni @sleepysongbirdsings @mybuckynotyours @sunday-bug @bunnyfella

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