#so yes as always i take bucky's mention crumbs and have it here

[bubbarnes]

“... and Bucky is about a guy that has to live with his past and having done all these horrible despicable things and find a reason to live and a purpose to live again. that was very real to me.”

[alienoresimagines]

Dying for more crumbs of your "I was made to protect you" Bodyguard/Royalty AU if you're willing to share!

Nonnie!! 🥹🫶🏻 I swear this AU was on the backburner because I couldn't find what I wanted to do with it but your ask really kickstarted it so thank you 🥹❤️ As crumbs, here is my humble offering of John and Gale, twelve years after their first meeting, when they are safe and well in love ❤️ Yes, we're starting backwards but take this as a guarantee I won't kill off any of them 😂 As for the main fic, an outline is starting to be formed and I hope I'll manage to get a few chapters done before uni starts 🥰 But really, none of this would be here without you, so thank you 🥹💕

Also on AO3

Our love, for eternity | Buck x Bucky (Royalty/Bodyguard AU)

John cannot remember the first time someone took his hand to press a kiss on his knuckles. Maybe when he was five, and his father could no longer protect him from the incessant requests of the Council to have him properly introduced to Court? He doesn’t remember much from it, too overwhelmed by all the noise and the crowd present, his only wish to hide himself behind his father’s legs but no longer allowed to, at least not in public. 

Almost thirty years later and he handles it much better, has learned to thrive on the attention and emotions of a crowd, even though he’s man enough to admit his father’s steady presence will always comfort him. Still, despite knowing it is part of protocol and that it is truly the least he can do, letting hundreds of nobles fall to their knees in front of him to bring his hand to their lips isn’t exactly on his pros list of being first Crown Prince and then King. Every day, he understands a bit better why his father chose to pass on the throne to him two years ago to live in a small cottage with Red and who knows how many horses the two men had managed to get their hands on since then. He’d gone to visit the two men just yesterday and they looked happier than ever, and John cannot deny that the idea of a small retreat in a house near the beach with Gale sounds like heaven. But alas, not for another twenty years at the least. 

He can do twenty years. With Gale at his side, he could do eternity as King. And really, when Gale is the one kissing his knuckles, the entire affair is much more tolerable, not to mention enjoyable. It never fails to have John’s entire being buzz with warmth spreading from his chest whenever Gale’s calloused palm gently close around his to bring his hand to his face until the now familiar prickle of beard tickles his skin, soothed by the press of soft lips. It’s a gesture Gale loves, always making sure he holds John’s gaze when his lips touch the tender skin, eyes warm and soft, corners of his mouth turned up even as it rests gently against John’s knuckles. They could be reading side by side in John’s private chambers, loosely holding hands in the space between their two armchairs, fire gently crackling in front of them, and Gale would bring up their joined hands until he could kiss John’s knuckles, only looking up from his book once John could feel his breath fanning over back of his hand. 

In all the years they’ve known each other and amongst all the different things they’ve done with and to each other, few things have felt as intimate as Gale kissing his hand, no matter how many times he’s done it. Each one feels like a vow, full of more emotions and words than anyone could ever see behind the gesture. Many people have brought John’s hand to their lips- or their forehead, an alternative he prefers with strangers, he has to admit- in a sign of loyalty. But Gale always does it in absolute devotion and love, so sincere and raw it never fails to tighten John’s throat with so many emotions he cannot name until he almost chokes on them.

To all assembled in the throne room today, it is a common gesture meant to show utmost servitude to a monarch. To John, it’s timeless proof there is no one more devoted to him and his heart than the man currently kneeling at his feet.

There’s a reverence in how Gale does it. The gentle grip in which he holds John’s right hand, letting the curve of his fingers rest against his index as he brings it closer to his face, head bowed, as if they are the only two present. 

John’s hands aren’t as soft or slender as other women’s in Court. They’re calloused and rough from sword training, knuckles scarred with little cuts here and there. Gale still takes his time swiping his thumb over his knuckles, as though softly uncovering the skin. John feels like the most precious thing in the world, and he has to bite his lip to keep himself from smiling too wide. Then, to his surprise, Gale bows his head even lower until his forehead rests against John’s hand, windswept golden hair tickling the skin of his wrist. He lingers for a moment too long to be anything but on purpose, and John’s heart feels so full of love it might burst right out of his chest to leap into the waiting hands of the man kneeling in front of him. Despite the numerous scars on those war-hardened hands, none would be- and have been- as gentle and tender in holding his heart, of this John is sure.

It’s been two weeks since they’ve seen each other, the longest they’ve ever been apart since they first met, twelve years ago. Neither of them had been particularly willing, but a foreign delegation had specifically asked for Gale to be their escort back home and nothing could have justified John’s refusal; the kingdom is more at peace than it has been in years and Anglia’s relations with its neighbors always need to be strengthened.

To know that Gale had missed him as much John had missed him, enough that he’d chosen to be bolder than usual almost as though he couldn’t help himself? It sends bursts of warmth through John’s gut, golden light flowing through his veins until he feels warm all over, toes curling in his boots. Twelve years and the strength of his love for Gale still threatens to knock him off his feet.

Gale lifts his head, locking eyes with him, and though John needs to be careful of the emotions playing on his face, Gale has no such limits, his back to the rest of the room. Warm and fond and longing, cornflower eyes look up through blond lashes, the smile Gale doesn’t let curve his lips beside the faint upturn of the corners of his mouth dancing in the depths of blue. Then, finally, his lips kiss John’s knuckles in a lingering press, his beard a sweet tickle on his skin. John’s missed the touch so much that his knees feel weak upon feeling it again after two weeks of being starved for it, and a small sigh escapes his lips. Gale must hear it because he wiggles his eyebrows teasingly when he lowers John’s hand with a last caress of his thumb, and it’s all John can do not to pull him up and kiss him senseless, feel the softness of pump lips and the rough but pleasurable burn on his chin and cheeks.

The moment it is appropriate enough for them to go, John is crowding Gale in a secluded alcove until all he can taste are Gale’s kisses. 

“Your Grace,” and oh, how John had missed that deep voice, the way it rumbles through his body in a shiver that goes down his spine. Heat stirs low in his belly, the familiar flames of arousal only stoked by Gale’s intense gaze as John pulls him up.

John is taking him to bed in the following hour, midday and reports be damned. 

Despite this promise to himself, he can’t help the urge to feel Gale close to him, so with an arm around his shoulders, he brings him into a brief hug, clapping his hand on Gale’s shoulder a few times to mask the way he turns his head just so to bury his nose behind Gale’s ear, inhaling deeply. Nobody would blink at this display of affection, the Court well aware of John’s easygoing nature and affectionate ways with friends. 

Too soon, Gale starts pulling back and John reluctantly lets him, for a moment missing the boldness of earlier but recognizing the longing in Gale’s eyes, knowing it mirrors his. 

“You missed me?” Gale chuckles, shakes his head as he steps back to a more appropriate distance. His eyes don’t leave John’s face, as though carefully studying any change that might have happened in the two weeks they’d been apart.

“Like a stone in my shoe.” 

Even if John cannot pull him back into his own body, hold him there with an arm around his shoulders, this is something they can do. The easy banter and fond teasing they both know all the hidden messages of. It’s there, in the warm blue of Gale’s eyes and the smile that pulls at his lips. John is sure it shows in the way his eyes crinkle, how he can barely stop his arms from reaching out again. But nobody will blink at the lack of honorifics or at the fondness coloring Gale’s tone, too used to seeing them attached at the hip when they can be, or Gale always half a step behind John in times of duty. People will smile and write about the unbreakable bond between a King and his Shield, once again proving how Royal and Shield are closer than soulmates, never knowing how true those words are. 

My Clegan fics

[hansensgirl]

you better not shout, better not cry.

summary. | they know if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.

pairings. | Dark!Sebastian Stan x Reader, Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Dark!Lee Bodecker x Reader, Dark!Charles Blackwood x Reader, Dark!Chris Evans x Reader, Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader, Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Reader, Dark!Andy Barber x Reader.

warnings. | NONCON/DUBCON, gang bang, eight-some, (forced and not forced) drinking, manipulation, coercion, dark themes, crimes, threatening, slight angst, mentions of cheating, age gaps, Daddy kink, Sir kink, power dynamics, boss/employee relationships, face fucking, oral (m receiving), dom/sub, finger sucking, degrading, praise, humiliation, voyeurism, fingering, double penetration, cum marking, facials, anal, unprotected sex, cream-pie kink, slapping, spanking, smoking, choking, hair pulling, manhandling, + more. 18+, DARK FIC.

word count. | 13k.

authors note. | merry christmas/happy holidays! please be wary of the warnings, and have yourself a merry christmas and/or a great day! don’t use my gif without permission, and don’t forget to read and reblog because i worked so hard on this. IF YOU’RE INSPIRED BY THIS FIC OR WANT TO USE A SIMILAR PLOT PLEASE MESSAGE ME FIRST OR ELSE YOU’LL BE BLOCKED. love you all sm! also gonna be submitting this to my bb @mypoisonedvine’s festive holiday challenge! (ty for beta-ing and putting up with me).

Make my wish come true… All I want for Christmas is you…

A group of women erupts in laughter as they point at one of the ugly sweaters that their coworker wears. The man burns up with shame before grumbling off, making you furrow your eyebrows. You stifle a laugh, before grabbing a sugar cookie that you baked yourself. Little red sprinkles fall to the floor as you bite into the treat, the sound drowned out by the others.

The melodious voice of Mariah Carey starts playing and everyone cheers; you included. You quickly shut up, though, realizing how stupid you must look. Standing there by yourself, an elf costume on, stuffing your face full of cookies as you yell.

You find comfort in the numerous Christmas-themed treats — from sugar cookies to Rice Krispies, to cake pops. Your mouth salivates at the sight even though you just had a cookie. Everything is so irresistible… “Merry Christmas Eve!” A cheery voice calls from behind you, and your heart quickens its pace.

“Oh- uh, Merry Christmas Eve to you too, Mr. Barnes.” You stammer in shock, careful to not look up at him. You fiddle your crumb-covered fingers together, a habit that you have yet to lose. “No need to be nervous, doll. Are you enjoying yourself?” He asks, grabbing one of the cookies that are covered in green sprinkles. It’s shaped like a Christmas tree, and it’s one of your favourites.

“Uh, yes, Sir!” You answer quickly and nervously. Undeniably, everyone knows that Mr. Barnes drips with eloquence and dominance. As soon as he walks into the room, everyone either wants to be with him or be him. Everyone vies after him, and he knows that. He knows that, and he just makes it worse and worse and- “Why’re you alone by the snack table, doll?” He asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Oh well- I’m not overly friendly with the others- I mean I’m not rude to them! I’m just not close to them, that’s all.” You ramble nervously, wringing your hands. Bucky places a heavy hand on your shoulder and the butterflies in your start fluttering even harder and faster.

You struggle to look him in the eyes, those darned cerulean eyes that make you weak in the knees. “Oh, I’m so sorry about that… Have you been drinking, doll?” He asks you, and you choke on your saliva. “Oh I don’t drink, sorry if I’m being annoying…” You sheepishly apologize, realizing how out of line you must be acting. Truthfully, Mr. Barnes always has that effect on you.

“Uh- I should probably go see if everything is in order.” You say before Mr. Barnes can say anything else to you. “Happy Holidays!” You call out as you speed walk as far away your legs can take you. Three glasses of eggnog have you wobbling slightly but you’re determined to be far away from Mr. Barnes and the others.

In a way, they aren’t really your bosses. They’re just the CEOs and your boss is the head of the HR department. …Perhaps they are your bosses, but you’ve never really talked to them much. Mr. Bodecker’s temper always frightens you, Mr. Blackwood’s stare would always have you shaking, Mr. Barnes’s aura always makes you weak, and then there’s Mr. Stan himself. Everything about him sends numerous emotions through you and others as well.

You lean back against the wall and pull your phone out, sighing with a heavy heart. You’re not sure if it’s the heavy nostalgia of seeing Santa Claus sitting on a throne or the wallpaper on your screen but either one makes you tear up slightly. You already took photos of the party, and you’ve already sent well wishes to your friends, family and coworkers.

You look back up from your phone and try to decide whether or not you should scroll through your camera roll just to look busy to others. Whilst you ponder with your hazy mind, you accidentally lock eyes with Santa Claus. Younger you would’ve freaked out, but older you burns up with embarrassment. Suddenly, his white-gloved hand beckons you to him with a come-hither motion.

You point at yourself just to make sure because only you know how many mistakes you’ve made of thinking that someone was pointing at you. He nods and smiles, but you’re still not sure. Call it paranoia, call it anxiety, but there’s no way in hell that you’re going to make a fool of yourself on Christmas Eve.

You’re still unsure, so you look around and everyone else is off getting wasted in the main hall. Shiny confetti crunches under your flats as you hesitatingly walk over to Santa. He flashes you a smile and maybe it’s the egg nog talking but his pearly whites look awfully familiar to you. A waitress crosses your path, like a deer suddenly crossing the road. The platter that she holds gets slightly jilted but the shot glasses of tequila survive and her too.

You stop her and grab a couple of shots, taking them down the hatch with no shame at all. Liquid fire claims your throat as you have no remorse for your future self who’ll be hugging a toilet in the morning. You cough and sputter as you continue your way to Santa Claus. “Merry Christmas Eve, little girl!” He cheers delightfully.

You giggle drunkenly, the kind of laugh that would make anyone fall for you. “Oh, so no ‘Merry Christmas Eve’ for me? Seems like someone is asking for coal, or maybe even a spanking.” He drawls in a slight country-Santa accent. Perhaps your ears aren’t deceiving you, but there's no plausible way that Santa Claus just said… that.

“Oh— uh— Merry Christmas Eve!” You whoop, before bursting out in another fit of bubbly giggles. He laughs with you, but only for a few moments before taking in your appearance. Though you’re drunk on tequila, a few sips of wine from before the party and eggnog, he’s aiming to get drunk on your aura. Quiet yet sweet, a nervous mess that only furthers your adorable-ness and amazing desserts.

“See something you like, Mr. Claus?” You question him, snapping him out of his daze. You wiggle your eyebrows to your best ability, but you’re no actress. “Well, maybe I do, little girl.” He winks at you, and you swear that you’ve seen him before. “Wait- Do you work here? Or did we just hire you?” You ask him, as though you’re interviewing him.

“Can’t hire Santa Claus, little girl.” He disappointingly clicks his tongue. You let out an ‘oh’ before letting out a small laugh. He smiles at you and you bite your lipstick stained lip. Your coworkers are chanting in the background but you choose to artfully block them out. Maybe you’re not choosing, and it’s just the alcohol doing its wonders.

“I’m not little, why are you callin’ me little girl?” You slur your words as you question him again. “You are a little girl, and I can’t believe you’re back talking to Santa!” He scolds you, making your eyes water. You jut your bottom lip out in a pout and you’re doing the best puppy eyes that you can. “You been drinking a lot, huh little girl?” He asks you, turning the tables and you gladly let him.

“Yep! Gotta stay hydrated…” You tell him in a sing-song voice that makes him chuckle. “Silly little girl, getting all drunk in front of her coworkers…” He chides, grabbing your almost flailing arms. He pulls you up into his lap with a grunt, even though it doesn’t take much strength. You’re immediately reminded of the way he used to sit you in his lap.

Spinning you around in circles at first, loud giggles and begging for them to stop. Perhaps it’s fortunate that the alcohol renders your mind fuzzy and you can only make out a few colour blobs. “Whaddya’ want for Christmas, little girl?” He teasingly questions, smoothing a white-gloved hand over your hair. “Hmm, I can have anything?” You ask him, a bit of drool leaking out of the corner of your mouth. He nods, taking his thumb and lifting it to your mouth.

Oh, how he has the urge to just push his thumb past your lips and make you choke on it. “Well… I want a raise, even though I’m not all that worthy of the company… Just like my ex said, I’m easily replaceable. Oh! Can I ask for another thing?” You perk up even though your throat burns with sadness and your eyes are almost leaking.

Interested, Lee nods and drags his thumb across your rouge top lip. If he didn’t have a wife who drags him to makeup stores on the regular, he would’ve thought your lipstick was expensive. But it isn’t, because there’s no way your paycheck can afford a lipstick from Hermes or Christian Louboutin. “Can I know why my boyfriend left me? I know I may seem dull and quiet, but I have more to myself…” You sadly ask him, ashamed of how he abandoned you for one of your closest friends.

Lee’s heart breaks in two — making him question whether or not he had a heart after all. Insults had him believing that he’s heartless, but you’re making him question every fibre of his being. “I’m sorry about that, little girl. But what we don’t know can’t hurt us, right? Curiosity killed the cat, little girl.” He reminds you, talking down to you as though you truly are a little girl. “But satisfaction brought it back.” You sass in return, your voice cracking from the impending tears and alcohol.

“You need to listen to me, little girl. Your boyfriend doesn’t know jackshit about treating a girl like you right. He probably doesn’t even know where your clit is.” He scoffs abruptly. You lean in, listening to him as though he’s the wisest man ever. “Bet he can���t fuck that tight lil’ pussy a’ yours as well as a real man like me can.” He whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine and heat to your core.

“Didn’t know Santa Claus had such a filthy mouth…” You tease him, running your hands up and down his thick thighs. He groans, his cock stiffening up inside his red trousers.

“But, before anything like that happens… I would really like to have a raise.” You say with a heavy-hearted sigh. Lee has the urge to grab you tightly and shove his big, hard cock into any wet hole of yours. “Alright, little girl. But you need to continue to be a good girl, or else I won’t be able to get you anything except for a spanking.” He warns with a faux-smile beneath his fake beard. You giggle and squeeze his thighs, almost like a wave goodbye.

You stumble off, probably to go pee or hurl your guts into a toilet. He watches as your hips sway with each step of yours. The sight fuels the thought of you grinding yourself on his cock as you beg him to fuck you. He notices the party has died down to just people humping each other to party songs. Grumbling, Lee pulls the awfully fake beard away from his handsome face. Before, he was cursing his luck for drawing the short stick to become Santa. But now, he’s glad.

He’ll talk to your boss about the raise, maybe along with a promotion. If only the others could mind their own businesses. Literally. He’s glad that he wore only a dress shirt and not the double-breasted suit Jane suggested for him. “You comin’ or what? We gotta’ make these deals before everyone leaves.” Bucky asks as he swiftly walks past Lee. Lee nods and starts to take off the rest of the obnoxious costume. Bucky puts no effort into stifling his chuckle, a known trait of his.

Bucky smooths his hair back, even though not one strand is out of place. His arm whirrs wildly and his fist clenches every few seconds. His stress symptoms were the worst, but they’ve never been this bad. It’s risky; the deal that they’re about to make. For months, they had been making secret bribes, forging numbers and signatures, and putting their employees in loopholes from their contracts. But this deal was the riskiest. Their plan was well thought out, all thanks to Charles, whose middle name might as well be devious.

He stands in front of one of the glass doors. His reflection looks back at him. Somehow, the dark look in his eyes becomes enhanced. His huge frame only makes him more intimidating, but he knows that no woman ever had a problem with it. Except for one. “You comin’?” Lee asks as he brushes past Bucky, mocking his words from earlier on. Bucky rolls his eyes like a spoiled rich kid because he is one.

Bucky buttons his suit jacket and exhales one last time. He walks to his right and pushes the door open with only a little bit of strength. Laughter from different men fills the room, along with thick tension and the smell of expensive booze. “Oh, look who decided to join us!” Ransom sarcastically jabs at Bucky. “Look who finally got laid. I was beginning to think you couldn’t get it up anymore, Drysdale.” Bucky sneers at him, pouring himself a glass of Dalmore 62.

Ransom grumbles a few curse words under his breath and a prideful smirk spreads across Bucky’s face. They all have their ties loosened, maybe even the top buttons of their shirts but nobody cares enough to look. All but Mr. Stan and Mr. Evans are relaxed. They stare at each other with such glares they could murder one another. They all sit in their chairs, all similar. Except for Mr. Stan, who seems as though he’s sitting on a throne.

“They havin’ a starin’ contest or what?” Lee questions Bucky, downing the rest of the whiskey. “I don’t know, but didn’t they hate each other over some family feud shit?” Bucky asks in return, handing Lee the bottle of highland malt scotch. “Like the game?” Lee jokingly asks, knowing that the two head owners of the companies loved to get into petty squabbles. “We all fucking wish.” Bucky jeers, eliciting a chuckle from Lee. As much as they all hate each other, they always did have their moments when they weren’t insulting each other.

The only one who isn’t drinking, Andy, pipes up from all the talking. “So are we going to make this deal or not? I gotta get home for Christmas.” He grumbles just like the old man he is. “Oh fuck you, Barber. Just because you went to Harvard doesn’t mean you’re some busy guy.” Steve jabs, clenching his jaw in annoyance. He always hated Andy, and he proudly showed it.

Charles snickers, Ransom too. Lee and Bucky smirk from the sidelines. Andy clicks his tongue in a threatening way. But Sebastian and Chris send daggers in the form of glares at them. “I suppose we could sign the contracts and then celebrate… I could call the girls from Eighteen30’s.” Sebastian proposes, standing up from his seat. He emerges from the darkness like Batman, his beautiful eyes gleaming in the light. Everyone in the room groans in pleasure, recalling the moments they remembered from the last time they went to Eighteen30’s.

Andy pulls the contract out of his briefcase; an obvious “Andy” move. The sounds of glasses being set down on surfaces fill the room at different pitches. Evans simply turns around, stroking his beard as if he wants to say something. “Got something to say, Evans?” Charles asks him, giving him a devilish smile. “No, just thinking about how I’m gonna be rich as fuck once the ink dries.” He says in almost a hopeful manner. He thinks he has everyone deceived, but it’s the total opposite.

They all choose to keep quiet, wanting to just sign the goddamn papers and get it over with. “Just to be sure… We all know what this entails, right? More money, more power.” Sebastian states, pouring himself a glass of whisky. He never minds the burn, he actually loves it. They all nod, because who doesn’t love money and power? They all pull a pen out of their jackets, ever the businessmen. One by one, in smooth black loops, they sign their full names on the contracts.

Sebastian and Chris are the last to sign because their names carry the most weight. Charles lights his pipes and sighs as he takes a drag of smoke from it. As Lee watches Charles puff the smoke out of his mouth, he has the urge to light up a cigarette. But he can’t, because his doctor told him not to. So now he has to suffer the pain of fighting away that urge and Charles all but taunts him. He watches, and he fights, and he watches until he snaps.

“‘Scuse me.” He says, getting up. “Are you going for the champagne?” Sebastian asks, tracing the rim of his glass. Lee nods, lying to his business partner and longtime friend. “I’ll come with, can’t fucking stand the darkness.” He grumbles, following Lee. They both appreciate the fact that the part is still lively, maybe even more as booze has taken over everyone’s body. “Hey man, sorry you had to be Santa this year.” Sebastian apologizes, clearing his throat beforehand.

It’s not unexpected. Lee already knows that Sebastian is comfortable with him. “Ah, it’s alright. Only had to talk to a couple ‘a horny girls and Mrs. Patterson’s son. That lil’ fucker is cute an’ all, but he fuckin’ drooled on my hand.” Lee rants to him, making him let out a chuckle. “Well, the girls weren’t all that bad, right?” Sebastian questions him, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “They were… somethin’. Most of them were obnoxious, except for one of ‘em.” Lee admits to him.

“Oh really? Anyone I might know?” Sebastian continues, handing Lee a cigarette. Lee gruffly thanks him and hands him his Valentino lighter. “Hmm… not sure. I don’t think anyone really knows her, she seems quiet. But she was drunk, so that was nice.” Lee tells him, sparing certain details. “She wanted a raise, and to know why her boyfriend left her for some other girl. I think it was her friend. Either way, she nearly started cryin’ on my lap.” Lee recounts to him, something he’d only do with his therapist.

Besides fucking her, of course.

“Oh… maybe we could give her a raise. Do you see her here?” Sebastian asks him with a smirk on his face. Lee wonders if Sebastian is thinking of the same thing that he is, and vice versa. Lee’s blown out eyes scan the crowd for you, hoping you’re still here. Maybe perhaps even more drunk than before. “She’s in this burgundy dress and had a mini Santa hat on… Red lipstick too.” Lee describes to him. Sebastian nods his head and keeps on looking for you.

“Think she had lingerie on underneath the dress… probably wanted to get back with her boyfriend.” Lee begrudgingly admits to Sebastian, finishing his cigarette. Smoke flies from both of them yet nobody seems to care. “How do you know she had lingerie on?” Sebastian teasingly asks him. Lee’s face burns up with slight embarrassment. “I… I was feeling her up, I couldn't help myself. She was all over me in the cutest way possible.” Even though Lee doesn’t give a rat’s ass about God, he’d swear on her that he’s telling the truth.

“Is that her?” Sebastian asks him, pointing at you as you walk out of the women’s bathroom. “Yeah…” Lee puts out his cigarette and throws it beside him, leaving it for the janitor to pick up. Sebastian does the same, aiming his cigarette more accurately. “Fuck, that little doll? I’ve always had my sights set on her. Always so cute and shy… Never bothered anyone.” Sebastian groans, hoping— no, knowing that Lee and the others are on the same boat as he.

“I have an idea,” Lee says, shoving his hands in his pockets. Sebastian follows him, going along with whatever his idea is. From your spot at the snack table, you manage to fill your now empty stomach with your sugar cookies. You’re slightly disappointed that not many of your treats have disappeared, but you tell yourself the night is still young. You look up at the sound of footsteps coming closer and nearly choke on a cookie.

“Oh my— uh, Merry Christmas Eve, Mr. Stan and Mr. Bodecker!” You cheer, stumbling on your words and yourself. “Hi, darlin’,” Lee says, giving you his signature ‘ladies only’ smile. You feel yourself become shy at the sight, but Mr. Stan makes you look back up. He clears his voice and you take in both of them. They both stand tall and intimidating, with enchanting stares that just capture you. “Merry Christmas Eve to you too, little girl,” Sebastian says, taking in your form.

You look absolutely adorable and innocent in front of them. In your little burgundy dress and Santa hat… slightly tipsy with cookie crumbs all over your face. “We came over here to ask you for a quick favour… We just closed one of our biggest deals and we’d love for you to help us bring the champagne. Maybe make a toast with us? It’s the least we can do since you brought all these lovely treats.” Lee explains, grabbing himself a sugar cookie.

It’s identical to the one you have in your hand; except yours is half-eaten and his only has a small nibble. “M- Me? Really?” You ask in shock, nearly going into full cardiac arrest. They probably don’t even know your name, but that doesn’t matter. At least they’re talking to you. “Yep! Unless someone else made all these delicious desserts.” Sebastian jokes around, slightly admitting that he tried a cookie. You shake your head in object and lace your sweaty fingers together.

God, why did you have to drink?

“I’d love to, Sirs.” You whisper with the utmost grace you can muster up whilst being half-drunk. They both nod and Lee places a heavy arm around your shoulders. The cookie in your hand breaks and you not so discreetly drop all the crumbs onto the floor. “Can I ask what the deal is for?” You question, not even daring to look up from the floor. “Oh, it’s nothing to worry your cute little brain about,” Sebastian tells you with a smile, quickly shutting you up and shutting the topic down.

They lead you to the bar and Sebastian makes a simple gesture with his hand. The bartender makes quick work of getting five champagne bottles and you’re easily amazed. Without realizing it, your jaw drops slightly in awe. Both Sebastian and Lee chuckle at how cute you are. The sounds are absolute heaven and they force you to realize something.

Holy-fucking-shit— You have feelings for your bosses.

You choke on your saliva at the epiphany, making Sebastian and Lee jump to you in concern. “Hey, are you okay?” Sebastian asks you, rubbing your back gently. Lee does this same, but his hand inches down to the small of your back. With anyone, you would jerk away and feel very uncomfortable. But with them… With them, it’s the complete opposite. You nod as you slowly calm down. The bartender sets the numerous bottles of champagne down on the bar.

Two bottles of Dom Pérignon, two bottles of Boërl & Kroff Magnum and one bottle of Goût de Diamant Brut. It’s the most expensive champagne in the world, costing $1.2 million. But to them and the company, it’s no big deal. You only know the price because he would rave about it on and on. You sniffle at the memory and Lee shushes you in a calming matter.

“Here, you lift this one, and we’ll carry the rest,” Lee instructs, handing you one of the bottles of Dom Pérignon. You hold onto the bottle tightly, but not too tightly. Sebastian and Lee point to where they’re going to celebrate, just to direct you. You walk in small steps, careful to not drop the bottle. They’d probably murder you if you did. “Right there, little girl… I— uh, I heard you wanted a raise, is that true?” Lee asks you, desperate to hear your lovely voice.

“Uh yeah, I just haven’t had a raise since I’ve been working here. All my coworkers are constantly getting raises…” You sheepishly admit to your two bosses. They nod and frown, how long has that been going on? They’ve kept their eyes on you since you started working here. You reach the door and you don’t open it because your two hands are occupied. Lee oddly knocks on the door, perhaps in a code. A few seconds pass, but the alcohol in your system makes it feel like an eternity.

Mr. Barnes opens up the door and gasps at you. “Nice to see you again, little girl.” He greets, smirking down at you. The sober version of you would’ve noticed the plethora of men in the room, but drunk-you can’t focus on too much at once. You nod shakily, swallowing thickly as you remember your encounter with Bucky earlier this evening. Bucky takes the champagne bottle from you and leads you inside, Sebastian and Lee following.

Bucky briefly leaves the room after setting down the bottle of champagne on one of the tables. It’s incredibly dark in the room and you can only make out the lights coming from the city. Sebastian flicks the lights on and you bite back a hiss at the sudden change. You look around and nearly drop dead right there and then. The company’s biggest enemies are here, smug as ever. “I… Huh?” You’re confused, not sure if your mind is playing a wicked trick on you.

Mr. Blackwood takes a drag from his pipe and then puts it out, the only remnants of it being the scent of smoke. In front of you, though, are Mr. Drysdale, Mr. Barber, Mr. Rogers and Mr. Evans. “Is this the little minx you’ve been telling us about?” Steve asks your bosses, unbuttoning his suit jacket. “Yep, even better in person,” Bucky says, pushing your hair to the side. “What’s going on?” You ask, trying to move away from him. Lee quickly stops you, his pudgy stomach pushing you closer to Bucky.

“Like I said before, little girl. Nothin’ for you to worry your little brain about.” Lee says, his country drawl sending shivers throughout your body. Little girl… The nickname is all too familiar, and it’s not like anyone else with a country accent would call you that. “You were Santa Claus?” You ask him, slightly nudging him. “She’s smart… Can’t fucking wait to make her go all stupid for our cocks.” Ransom says, a smug half-grin on his face.

You whimper at his words because they’re straight out of your greatest fantasies.

“Oh you like that, don’t you? You really wanna be dumb and stupid for our cocks?” Bucky asks in a condescending tone. You shake your head no because all you want is to get out of here. “Let’s get the real party started…” Chris ominously says, grabbing a bottle of Dom Pérignon. He pops it open, the wooden cork flying to the other side of the room.

Foam pours out of the bottle and everyone cheers, minus yourself. Instead, you flinch and still try to move from their grasps. Andy hands him the glasses and he pours everyone half a glass. You, on the other hand, receive a full glass with a strawberry inside. “I- I think I had enough to drink tonight…” You shyly tell them, inching your body away from Andy. “Nonsense, celebrate with us, little girl.” He objects, beginning to tilt the glass forward.

You shake your head and twist your face away, but Bucky’s metal hand stops you. He roughly grabs your jaw and squeezes until your mouth pops open. Champagne fills your mouth and you refuse to swallow. Lee’s fingers dance across your cheek and clamp over your nose, cutting off your only source of oxygen. “C’mon, swallow it all. Do it like the good little girl you are.” Charles demands, the praise going straight to the pit of your stomach.

You cave because there’s no way you’re winning this. Against your will, you swallow the bubbly golden liquid. Slight carbonation sizzles on your tongue and in the back of your throat. You have to admit, it is absolutely delightful. You now see why rich people drink it like it’s water. “That’s a good girl. See? Wasn’t so bad after all.” Andy praises you, tapping your cheek as though you’re a pet.

You whimper again, feeling Lee and Bucky grab your arms tightly. “As much as I love that cute little dress, I’d prefer to see you out of it,” Ransom smirks, handing Andy another glass of champagne. This time, it’s a glass of Boërl & Kroger Magnum. It’s stronger, much stronger than the previous one. Ransom’s hands come to the front of your favourite dress and a loud rip reverberates throughout the room.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the room fills with whistles and groans. “Fuckin’ hell, little girl.” Lee groans, his cock swelling up once again. Suddenly, everyone’s trousers are a few sizes too small. They drink in your lingerie-clad form and you grow even shyer underneath their strong gazes. “I don’t know if I wanna fuck you in this little get-up, or rip it off and then fuck you.” Steve groans, palming himself through his dress pants.

You don’t realize until now that they’ve all surrounded you. Andy tilts the glass into your slack jaw and you allow the bubbly beverage to fill your mouth. Why fight it? Plus, there’s no way you can get wasted off of champagne. You can feel a bit of champagne dribble down your chin and towards your cleavage. It has you feeling even more embarrassed and ashamed than you already are.

The sight fuels everyone in the room. “Fuck it,” Steve says, grabbing the glass from Andy. He throws it behind him, a crash reverberating in the room. You flinch at the sound and Ransom cooes condescendingly. “Are you scared, little girl?” Ransom asks you, tilting your chin up to his face. His blue eyes are blown out with lust and darkness. He smashes his lips against yours and you’re not sure whether to kiss him back or not.

A harsh hand squeezing your ass warns you to mimic his movements. The kiss is rough and filled with need. You try to keep up with kiss lips, so focused on doing it correctly. You don’t even realize that you’re being moved to one of the couches and that everyone has been stripped from their suits. The only article of clothing on the men is their boxers. Ransom shoves his tongue into your mouth and you let him dominate you. Sets of hands begin to feel up your body — groping, squeezing, rubbing.

You feel someone else’s lips on your neck, lightly peppering kisses near that sweet spot of yours. As soon as Charles hits it, you melt in all of their hands. “That’s a good girl, yeah.” Chris praises, cupping one of your tits through your bra. The strings on your lingerie are tearing away, the sound echoing in your ears. Your bra and underwear remain, with tethers of red string on them. Sebastian’s hands run up and down your waist, making goosebumps form.

You aren’t sure what Lee, Andy and Steve are doing, but you know their hands are on you somewhere. Then, Ransom pulls away. Your lips are swollen and they even hurt a bit, too. You can feel wetness pooling in your red panties, but you’re too drunk to care about your sudden neediness. You’re worried about what’s going to happen. Lee lifts you and places you on the expensive shag carpet.

You whimper in pain as the carpet digs into your skin remorselessly. “Sorry, baby. It’ll be worth it, don’t worry.” Lee gently tells you, rubbing your cheek. Suddenly, he strikes you harshly. You let out a shriek of pain and fear, but you’re quickly shushed. “Shh, I know you like that, look -- You’re rubbing your thighs together like a lil’ slut.” He jeers, stroking the other cheek. You whimper and shake your head, even though he’s correct.

“Lying isn’t very nice, little girl,” Steve warns, standing next to Lee. You look up at them both, tears welling in your beautiful eyes. The sight makes them even harder than they already are, to the point where it’s almost unbearable. Lee pulls his boxers down and so does Steve. You gasp and your jaw nearly drops. Their cocks bunce up and slap their lower abdomens. Pre-cum leaks from their swollen, red tips. They’re both roughly the same size, but Lee is thicker than Steve.

“You like what you see, little girl?” Steve asks, grabbing the base of his cock. It looks even bigger in his large hands, and you gulp in fear. You’re not sure why you’re nodding, but you can’t stop yourself. Lee gives his cock a few strokes, and Steve grabs a handful of your hair. You whimper loudly as he drags you closer to his cock. “Say ‘ahh’.” Steve teases, before shoving his cock into your mouth.

You’ve done this before, but never with someone of his length and girth. Your mouth and jaw immediately start to hurt at the stretch. His cock is only halfway into your mouth, but it’s quite possibly one of the worst feelings ever. Steve tugs at your hair again, and you take it as a sign to start sucking. You hollow your cheeks and begin to bob your head, your tongue laving at the bottom of his cock.

You can feel the different veins on his cock throb, pulsating underneath the wetness of your tongue. He groans above you and the others in the room whistle at you. You’re not sure where to look, so your eyes dart around. You end up locking eyes with the man above you and your squeak around his cock. The vibrations of your voice have him cursing like a sailor. “Fuckin’ hell, little girl. So good at sucking cock.” He praises, petting the top of your head.

You involuntarily hum at the praise, squeezing your thighs together. Suddenly, you’re pulled off of Steve’s cock. You gasp for air, not even realizing how you were barely breathing whilst sucking his cock. Your chest heaves and your heart clamours as Lee drags you closer to him. He slaps the fat tip of his cock on your thrumming cheek. You flinch, feeling sticky pre-cum stain your face. Lee shoves his cock in your mouth the same way Steve did, only this time he forces you all the way down.

Your nose meets his fuzzy, soft tummy. You gag and sputter around his cock, trying to control your very much needed breathing. Lee places both his hands on each side of your head. Somehow, he’s still a bit gentle with you, even though he’s forcing you to suck his cock. He slowly moves your head up and down, moaning softly at the feeling of your wet mouth. Saliva coats his coat with a sticky sheen that only helps you make him feel good and nothing more.

“Oh, fuck.” He groans loudly, tossing his head back. You swallow around his cock, your threat constricting around him for a brief moment. You can feel his heavy balls against your chin for a few moments every now and then. All of a sudden, you’re once again pulled away from his cock. Steve forces himself farther into your mouth, just like Lee.

You feel light-headed from the little bit of air you’re getting. But you know that’s not their priority. Gags fill the room and your eyes roll back into your head. You aren’t pulled off of his cock, yet. “Fuck, I’m pretty sure she’s enjoying this as much as you are, Steve,” Bucky says, only just realizing that you’re trying to alleviate the ache between your legs. Everyone’s eyes fall to your cunt, where you’re rubbing your thighs together and humping the hair like a little bunny.

“Bet she probably doesn’t even realize it…” Ransom smirks, feeling his cock throb. You can only hear some of their words. You don’t know what they’re talking about, but it can’t be good. Steve begins to thrust his cock into your mouth, moving his hips back and forth. His balls slap your chin, his cock stretches your mouth and his moans are the only thing your ears can hear. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He announces, and you shake your head in objection.

You place your hands on his thighs and push him as much as you can. Your efforts are wasted because he doesn’t budge at all. You decide to resort to hitting, but it still doesn’t do anything. Steve suddenly still and his cum shoots down your throat. White stickiness fills your mouth up and you whine loudly. Steve paints your mouth with white streaks and he sighs loudly. He doesn’t pull out even after he’s already come, and you’re confused.

“C’mon, swallow it all like the good little slut you are.” He husks, his voice a bit hoarse. He shoves his cock more into your throat and you have no choice but to swallow it all. As soon as you do, Lee pulls you away from Steve. “Fuckin’ piece of shit.” He grumbles loud enough for only you to hear. He gives a nod to someone and then grabs a hold of your head again. “Shh it’s okay, you can do it. I know you can, you’re a good girl.” He eases, slowly pushing his cock into your wet cavern.

Unlike Steve, Lee is a bit gentler. Maybe it’s because his heart is slightly bigger than his dick. His cock hits your gag reflex and you’re so fucking lucky that you aren’t having any… accidents. Steve’s cum is still lingering in your mouth — musky, a little salty, and sticky. The droplets that are on the side of your mouth roll down Lee’s cock, leaving slight wetness on him that isn’t saliva. As soon as your nose nuzzles against his stomach, he groans.

He keeps your head locked in place for some reason, you’re not exactly sure why. Maybe he’s giving you some time to get used to his thickness. You hum in delight, a way of showing that you’re thankful that he’s sparing you some humanity. He chuckles, stroking one of your cock-filled cheeks. Cold fingers crawl between your thigh and you jump in fear. Your body doesn’t fully jerk away because of Lee’s strength. You can see Bucky smirking from your peripheral view and he rubs your wet cunt through the panties.

You shake your head and try to kick him away, but he stops you from protesting. Bucky spanks your ass harshly, watching as the skin ripples from the force. “Uh uh, stop that. Don’t make me put you over my knee and spank you ‘till you’re bleeding.” He threatens, placing one of his knees on your leg. You try to wiggly away from him, but your attempts are fruitless. You accept defeat, but only for now.

His metal hand returns to your cunt and he grabs the crotch of your soaking wet underwear. Bucky pulls it away from your cunt and you can still see his grin as smug as ever. You look up at Lee and your eyes plead for him to stop it all, but he just rubs your bulging throat. He moans at the slight pleasure and you gulp in fear. His thumb rubs at your cheek whilst Bucky rips your underwear away from your pussy.

Sebastian, Chris, Ransom, Andy, Charles, and Steve watch the sight before them with their hands palming their hard cocks. “She’s so fucking wet, aren’t you, little girl? Bet you got this wet just from sucking their cocks, ‘cause you love it so much. You love being a little slut for us.” He sneers, lightly smacking your cunt. You whimper around Lee’s cock and he grows tired of holding back.

He drags his hips back slightly and moves your head away from his cock, before pushing you back down rather quickly and harshly. You feel Bucky’s fingers trace at your drooling hole, occasionally dipping the tip of one of his fingers inside. He traces your wet lips and your sensitive clit too. You twitch at the sudden stimulation. Lee guides you up and down his cock at a rather decent pace. Your gags, wet noises and Lee’s moans fill the room in a rather melodious manner.

Bucky pushes one finger into your tight cunt, groaning at how your pussy immediately hugs his digit. “God, you’re so fucking tight. This cunt just needs to be destroyed, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, we’re gonna ruin it for any other man.” Bucky chuckles, pushing his digit further into you. He feels around, searching that spot that you haven’t found yet.

“You look so pretty with your mouth stuffed full of my cock, little girl. So fuckin’ pretty, ‘s like it was made just for me.” Lee cooes at you, thrusting even harder into your mouth. Tears sting your eyes but you ignore them. Bucky let’s put a noise of satisfaction and pride as you clench around his fingers. “There it is… Do you like it when I touch you like that, baby? Yeah, I know you do. Fuckin’ love it.” He husks in your ear, before nibbling on your earlobe.

You squeeze your eyes shut once Bucky starts moving his fingers inside you. Lee fucks your face with sloppy movements, signalling his impending orgasm. You place your hands on his thick, squishy thighs. Your short nails dig into his soft skin slightly as Bucky assaults your g-spot with his metal fingers. Lee pulls out your hair, a delicious sting radiating from your head. The pain makes you sputter once again around his cock, and that’s when Lee loses himself.

Just like Steve, he shoves his cock further down your throat as he hits his orgasm. His hot cum shoots down your throat, some of it filling your mouth up along with his cock. His hips are stilled but his cock is twitching almost wildly in your mouth. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue and you’re more ashamed than ever. Hopefully, it’s all over now. You shut your eyes close, unable to look Lee in his eyes.

He gives your cheek a light slap, and this time you don’t shriek or flinch. You swallow obediently around his cock, losing all defiance just so that it can all be over. You cringe at the feeling of his cum sliding down your throat, which is a fleeting moment. Bucky’s other hand reaches down to play with your little pearl of nerves. Suddenly, you’re gushing around his single-digit as it thrusts in and out of your pussy. “You look so pretty when you come, little girl. Such a sight.” Bucky whispers in your ear, kissing your neck.

“Aw, you love this, don’t you?” Lee asks, watching as you struggle to keep yourself together. You shake your head, even though the man above you doesn’t allow you to move. “Yeah, you do. You love sucking your seniors’ cocks and having your bosses watch. That’s why you’re all wet, right? Soaking Bucky’s fingers an’ coming all around them.” Lee presses, pulling his cock out. Somehow, he’s still as hard as ever. Steve too.

You open your mouth up to scream for help, but Ransom quickly stops you. His hand wraps around your neck and squeezes, cutting you off. Your scream for help dies down in your throat and so has all the fight in your body. Bucky continues to fuck you with his finger and his hand doesn’t leave your clit either. His movements are quicker, much quicker. Ransom leans his face close to yours, a dangerous scowl staining his.

“Do you want us to be rough, hm? We can fucking ruin you, and your holes. Are you that fucking stupid to try and scream? Who’s gonna help you anyway? Especially if they walk in to see you bouncing up and down on our cocks, begging for our cum.” He spits, squeezing your throat even tighter. “I— I’m sorry.” You apologize, scared of the man in front of you and the others who surround you.

You can feel yourself slowly losing consciousness, slowly but surely. Tears sting your eyes and begin to leak down your cheeks, maybe Ransom chuckle. You can feel his pinky ring dig into the skin of your neck, just like how you can feel Bucky’s fingers push against your sweet spot. “Do you wanna breathe, or do you wanna cum like a good girl?” He asks lowly, staring right into your eyes. You’re not sure what the right answer is, but you can barely think.

From the loss of oxygen to the way Bucky's fingers and slowing down and denying your pleasure. You feel Ransom’s fingers loosen a bit, almost as if he’s giving you a hint. You’re sure he knows you can’t think straight, and he’s probably going to tease you for it. “I… I wanna cum like-- like a good girl…” You breathlessly admit, feeling your eyes flutter shut. “Please…” You beg, more tears leaking from your glassy eyes.

Ransom lets go of your neck but he doesn’t let you fall. Bucky’s ministrations on your pussy speed up, bringing you closer to the edge. White fire burns in your stomach and cunt as you can feel yourself about to cum. “Please, please, please, Sir…” You unconsciously beg, before starting to sob. “Awe… Look at you, so desperate. Hm? You don’t even care if you were gonna pass out, you just want to come.” Ransoms jabs at you, grabbing your face roughly.

You can see that he’s taken off his boxers, his hard cock hanging between his built thighs. “Do it, come right fucking now.” He demands, before hollowing his cheeks out. You can’t see what he’s doing through your bleary eyesight, but you have a feeling that it isn’t good for you. You let out a gasp as Ransom spit on your face, his sticky salvia painting your left cheek.

It drips down to your open mouth in the worst way possible. You let it roll into your mouth because you can’t stop it. “Oh my God, yes…” You pant desperately as you hit your climax. You cum all over Bucky’s fingers, your cunt spasming. You moan loudly, just like the slut they claim you are. Bucky rubs your clit and continues to finger you until you can barely keep yourself up. “So sensitive… God, I’m gonna have so much fun with this pussy.” Bucky groans, slowing down his movements.

You barely have any time to collect yourself from your heaven-sent orgasm. You’re being lifted and placed on someone else. You rub your eyes and turn around, just to see Andy smirking up at you. His kind-seeming eyes, but his smile tells a different story. You turn back around, just to see your bosses and their deviant partners surrounding you. Charles steps forward with his signet ring-decorated hand wrapped around his cock.

He stares you down as he spits in his hands and brings it to his cock. He strokes himself slowly, the salvia making lewd squelching sounds. Andy’s hands crawl up your ass to your soft thighs. He grabs your skin and spreads your legs as wide as he deems best. His thighs rest under yours as Charles kneels down in front of you. “Such a pretty little pussy, Bambina.” He softly tells you, as though he’s your lover.

It seems that you’re looking at him, it truly does. But in reality, you’ve zoned out to a land far, far away from where there were no monsters like these men. Only princes and heroes like him. “Look at her, she looks so fucked out.” Steve comments, pointing at you. Charles hums, before snapping his fingers. Your trip is cut short, and you’re back to reality. Charles grabs the base of his cock and slaps the head of it on your sensitive clit, making you twitch.

Andy runs two of his fingers across your face; his pointer and his middle finger. He moves down to your slightly parted lips and pushes them inside. Charles smears his pre-cum against your wet lips, mixing the stickiness with your cum. You whimper at the feeling and focus on that only. “C’mon, suck on my fingers like it’s my cock, little girl.” Andy urges, pressing your tongue with his fingers.

You hesitatingly comply, trying to please him. The more you listen, the quicker it’ll all be over, right? “You’re just a good little slut, aren’t you? So good, the best little girl ever.” Charles praises, running the head of his cock through your folds. If this was all… okay, then you would agree with him and serve your duties as a good girl. But it isn’t okay, so you leave it at that. Charles pulls his now soaking wet cock away from your pussy, and you feel him push in.

But it isn’t him. It’s Andy’s cock. He slowly pushes into you, stretching you until it hurts like nothing before. He bottoms out with a loud moan that nearly makes your right ear hurt. He doesn’t begin to fuck you brutally, as any man would. No, he stays buried in your wet cunt and Charles seizes the moment. His wet cock head nudges against your other hole, the one that was forbidden to your boyfriend — ex-boyfriend.

You flinch and try to close your legs, but Andy stops you as quickly as possible. “Please…” You beg, using your eyes to tell him “No, I don’t want this. Please stop.” He shushes you and pushes the head of his cock in slightly. You’re gratefully he doesn’t just get on with it and brutalizes you. Andy pulls out of your wet cunt and you’re immensely confused.

To be honest, though, you always are.

Charles pushes into your cunt and fills you up like Andy. He immediately finds your sweet spot just like Bucky did. Andy grabs his cock and leads it to your tighter hole, before slowly pushing in. He groans loudly at how tight you are, how much you’re squeezing him like a vice. “No, stop it, please.” You beg, trying to get up from your spot on his chest.

He pulls you back down and Charles wraps his hand around your throat. “Shut up. Shut your fucking mouth before I get one of them to stuff it full with their cock.” He threatens. His face is calm in the most frightening way possible. Andy curses behind you as he finally bottoms out inside your ass. The pain makes you want to scream, but after your previous antics, you choose to just bite your lip and keep quiet.

Your short, red nails dig into your palms and draw blood, but it doesn’t hurt that badly. They both nod at each other but you don’t notice it at all, too focused on the excruciating pain you’re feeling. You might say that you’re about to pass out, but you can’t even form anything more than “please,” and moans of pain. Charles’s rough thumb rests upon your throbbing clit, ready to bring you to your orgasm.

But God, you’re squeezing his cock so tightly with your pussy it takes him a few moments to collect himself. “You’re squeezing our cocks so nicely, little baby. You just don’t wanna let us go.” Andy chuckles, wiggling his hips for some friction. You let out a loud moan — and you’re not sure if it’s of pain or pleasure.

Charles slowly drags his cock out of your cunt, leaving just the tip inside you. The feeling of sudden emptiness reminds you of when you stand up too quickly after laying down for a while. Mind-altering, if you must say. He slams back inside you and Andy does the opposite; pulling out of you. Charles fuck you slow, yet hard and rough. He rubs your clot quickly as he fucks you relentlessly.

Groans, whistles, curse words and moans all fill the room yet you only focus on the way their cocks are driving in and out of you. “Fuck, such a nice ass. You love having Daddy’s cock in your ass, don’t you?” Andy asks, looking straight down to where you’re connected. You swallow thickly and Charles feels it against his hand. He squeezes the sides of your throat slightly, and you nod quickly.

“Say it. Say you love having my cock fuck your little ass. I bet nobody ever fucked you like this, not even that lousy boyfriend of yours. You probably wished he took you like the little slut you are, destroying all your holes.” He demands as his dirty words make you wetter and wetter. “I…” You pant helplessly, looking around.

Everyone stares you down, their cocks in their hands as they slowly jerk off to you. “I l-love having your c-cock fuck my a-ass, Daddy.” You sheepishly tell him, whispering that last part. “Brava, Bambina.” Charles praises, punctuating his words with one thrust that hits your cervix. You let out a cry and the lewd sounds of them fucking you are drowned out for a brief second.

Charles continues to pummel your g-spot, and occasionally, your cervix. The pain isn’t as bad as the pain Andy is causing you. You can feel Andy’s cock pulsating in you, driving in and out of you. You’re sure you’re probably bleeding, but you know that none of these men care. “Fuck, she’s so stretched out…” Someone says, loud enough so you can hear.

You feel yourself being pushed to the edge at a rather fast pace. “You gonna come, baby? You gotta ask us first.” Charles snickers, slowing down his thrusts and taking away his thumb from your clit. You whine out like a bitch in heat, desperate to come all over their cocks. “Please…” You beg, gyrating your hips so that Charles can continue to fuck you like a starved man.

“Gotta do better than that, Tesoro Mio.” He hums, pulling out even more. He watches in awe as your wetness coats his cock like nothing before. In the bright lights, his cock glistens with your juices. “Please, please let me come! I need it, I want to come so badly, Sir!” You beg, bucking your hips upwards. “That’s a good little slut.” He praises, pushing back into your cunt. You moan loudly and wantonly once he bottoms out again.

The pain in your ass finally turns into pleasure and you moan even louder. “Oh my god!” You squeal despite your throat hurting. You grind down on their cocks slightly, chasing your orgasm. “Please let me come. Please, Sir… Please, Daddy!” You beg involuntarily, taking a page out of your wildest fantasies. Your words spur them on and you’re suddenly crashing into a lovely climax. You moan loudly and clamp down on their cocks as much as your body lets you.

“Fuck, you’re even more beautiful when you come around our cocks. You love being fucked by two men, don’t you? Yeah, yeah you do. That’s why you’re being so needy and desperate.” Andy groans in your ear, feeling his balls tighten up as you milk him and Charles for all they’re worth. You nod in agreement, not even caring anymore,

You soak their cocks with your cum, and your eyes roll back into your skull. “Awe, look at her. She goin’ all stupid.” Lee teases, squeezing the base of his cock to stave off his release. Your heart clamours in your chest, beating wildly as you struggle to come down from your high. Your mind has a slight buzz to it, and the champagne is the one to blame. You can hear soft moans from the other men, and you fight back a shy smile of pride.

Charles and Andy both have beads of sweat dripping down their skin, enhancing your arousal. They both curse under their breaths and groan. Andy’s hips still first, and his cock twitches inside you. “Oh fuck…” He groans in a low voice. Streaks of cum paint your insides, filling you up in a pleasant way possible. You sigh at the feeling and look up at Charles. He squeezes your throat a bit tighter, which only makes you wetter.

His thrusts are slow and sloppy, signalling his orgasm. “Please come in me… Please, Sir.” You whisper to him, knowing he needs something to push him over the edge. “Fill me up with your cum, Sir.” You add, remembering certain lines from porn videos you used to watch. “Oh— fuck…” He groans as he comes inside you. You can feel his cum, filling you up to the brim and then some. Andy pulls out, his cock lightly brushing against Charles’s thigh.

You watch Charles as he slowly comes down from euphoria. You feel empty, so empty. Bucky watches with hungry eyes as cum and a tinge of blood leaks out of your asshole. It’s slightly stretched, which only turns him on even more. Charles drags his cock out of your pussy, slowly and carefully just so that he won’t hurt you.

Again, if the circumstances weren’t so… fucked up, you would’ve enjoyed this all.

You sigh and flop backwards onto Andy’s chest, ready for sleep to take you. You feel your eyes flutter shut, but then you’re jerked back to reality. Your eyes open up just for you to come face to face with Bucky, who smiles deviously at you. “I know you’re tired, baby, but we’re not done with you yet.” He cooes at you, rubbing your ass.

You don’t know where he’s taking you, but you hope it’s somewhere near the door.

“Hi, baby girl… You feelin’ good?” A raspy yet oh-so-familiar voice asks you. You rub your eyes as you’re set on someone’s lap. Ransom’s dark, lust-filled eyes lock with your tired ones. It takes you a good few moments to nod, and he chuckles. His hand comes up to your face, cupping your slightly sticky cheek. He caresses your face with his thumb, and you involuntarily lean into his touch.

Bucky pushes you farther into Ransom’s arms and he grabs your hurting hips. Cum leaks from both of your aching, stretched holes. Ransom’s hand leaves your cheek, but it quickly returns. But this time, it isn’t sweet and loving. No. Instead, he gives you a light slap on the cheek, just like Lee did. The coolness of his ring on your hot skin is… refreshing. It’s different.

Your ass is lifted into the air slightly, giving Bucky easy access to your stretched out rim. Bucky runs his hands up and down your ass, occasionally spanking you. The crack of his hand against your skin is just a reminder of your situation. You can feel Ransom’s cock resting right beneath your abused cunt, throbbing with want and need.

He grabs the base of his cock and lines the fat, leaking tip up to your cum-filled hole. Neither he nor Bucky needs any lube, all thanks to Andy and Charles. In one thrust, he fills you in a way that your fingers can’t. You can feel Bucky scoop up some of the cum leaking from your holes, along with your juices. Everywhere is tingling, a sensation unlike anything else.

He brings his fingers up to your mouth and Ransom squeezes your jaw until your mouth falls open, just like before. Bucky quickly pushes his fingers into your mouth. The taste of cum — salty, musky, and sweet — fills your mouth. It laps over your tongue and you involuntarily swallow it all. Whilst being distracted by Bucky’s fingers in your mouth, you don’t realize that he’s already pushing into your ass.

You gasp around his fingers as he quickly bottoms out inside you. Bucky’s too eager to take it slow. Bucky takes his now spit-slick fingers and wraps his arm around you, reaching down to your clit. You feel even more full than when Andy and Charles were in you. Maybe it’s the added cum, or maybe it’s the same and you’re just not used to being filled by two cocks.

Ransom moves his hand to your stomach and rubs the skin there — the bulging skin. The outline of his cock is faint, but it’s there. “Look at you, all filled up with our cocks.” Ransom whispers, before roughly grabbing your hips. He grinds you down onto his cock before lifting you slightly. Both he and Buckypull out slightly and start shallowly thrusting into you, almost in a teasing way.

You want more, you want more pleasure so badly. You want them to fuck you hard, for them to fuck you deeply and maybe even roughly. “You want something, don’t you, baby? So ungrateful…” Ransom disappointingly coaxes. You thrust back onto Bucky’s cock, a trick you learned from when you caught your ex-boyfriend balls-deep in your closest friend. Then, you grind down on Ransom’s cock.

Cum drips from both of your entrances and runs down the sides of their shafts and your inner thighs. “Fuck, if you wanted it that badly all you had to do was ask real sweetly.” Bucky groans, losing all sense and self-control. He pulls his cock out all the way, not even leaving the tip inside your ass. Ransom pulls halfway out and then bucks his hips up. He fucks back into you, but this time it’s more deep and punctuated.

“Oh— Thank you… Thank you, Sir!” You squeal as Ransom pounds against your g-spot over and over. His sticky, swollen, heavy balls slap against your empty ass. Bucky rubs your clit slowly, just to hear you whine like the desperate slut you are. “C’mon, make some noise for Daddy.” He demands in your ear, rubbing the tip of his cock on your other hole.

The feeling is lovely, but you crave more. “Please… Please fuck my ass, Daddy! I wan’ it so bad, wan’ you to put your big cock in me… Please, please…” You beg whilst you pant wildly. “примерная девочка.” He husks before pushing his hips forward. Despite having your… anal cherry being just popped, he acts as though you’re constantly begging to take it up the ass.

“Fuck, she doing that thing again,” Ransom comments, staring at your face. By ‘that thing,’ he means that way your mouth drops open in a silent scream and your eyes roll back into your skull. You clench around both Bucky’s and Ransom’s cocks, even though your muscles are barely working. You fall onto Ransom’s chest and you can hear his heart beating wildly in his chest, just like yours.

Unbeknownst to you, you just gave Bucky more leverage to fuck your ass. He takes his hand away from your clit and instead wraps it around your hair. He gives your hair a slight tug, and starts fucking you even harder. You dig your nails into Ransom’s chest at the stronger thrusts overpower your entire body and mind. You can hear a groan rumbling in his chest. “Fuck, best pussy I ever had.” He growls, finishing his sentence with one painful snap of his hips that goes straight to your cervix.

“Oh, can I come, please? I need it so— so badly, Daddy… Please, please let me come…” You beg, feeling the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten up. The pressure increases and you’re not sure if you can hold out for a minute more. The lewd sounds, the feeling of their cocks driving in and out of you, and their moans all push you to the edge.

“Awe, well go ahead, little girl. You’ve earned it, come all over our cocks.”

“Yeah… Fuck— I don’t think ‘m gonna last any longer…” Bucky curses under his breath loud enough for you and Ransom to hear. Ransom nods, a bead of sweat running down his neck. Bucky’s metal hand comes up to your bra and he unhooks it. Ransom grabs the cheap fabric and throws it at one of his friends. Ransom gives a wink to Lee, who pockets your bra.

Your tits are sticky with dried champagne from before. Ransom has the urge to swirl his tongue around your hardened nubs until you’re coming around their cocks once again. But his basic needs are just more important than yours as of now. Bucky’s hips still first, his brutality against your ass finally coming to an end.

He swallows thickly — but he gets caught off by a loud, deep moan of his own. It’s right in your ear, and Bucky has you use your body as a brace to hold himself up. His balls tighten up and cum shoots inside your ass. You’re far more sensitive than the previous time and now you can feel every single drop painting your walls. Ransom follows, his load pumping into you in a relieving way. Your walls encompass them both, hugging them tightly.

Bucky fucks into you with a few more thrusts; shallow and quick. He prolongs his orgasm until his mind is fuzzy and his cock can’t take it. He pulls out, removing his hand from your hair and he sighs. His and Andy’s cum follows his cock along with a streak of light pink. He feels nice, prideful in a way that throughout all the pain, you only ever took pleasure.

Ransom keeps his cock locked inside of you, and he just knows that you’re on the verge of either crying, screaming, or passing out. He also knows that you’re smart, and won’t do anything other than remain docile for Sebastian and Chris. “C- Can I go now? I won’t tell anyone– I swear!” You plead to Ransom in an excited sort of whisper. Ransom clenches his jaw and stares down at you, and your lips turn down into a frown.

“You’re lucky we aren’t alone.” He tells you and his words are enough to shut you up. You whimper, but you don’t apologize. “You’ve been such a good girl…” Sebastian says from behind you. You turn around and look up at him. He smiles at you and it’s gentle, almost reassuring. But you don’t return it. Sebastian wraps his muscly arms around you and picks you up with ease.

Ransom’s cock slips from your folds with ease, and cum drips from your filled up pussy. White stickiness drips down your slightly sweaty thighs and it makes you feel so conscience-stricken. Unlike every other time — like when you were sucking off Lee and Steve, or getting fucked by Ransom and Bucky or Charles and Andy — you’re now standing up. It’s weird, a funny feeling that might take you a few seconds to get used to.

Chris comes up to you and he has a menacing stance. He cups your face with his soft yet slightly coarse hands. You flinch, scared that he’ll slap you the way Ransom did beforehand. Luckily, he doesn’t. “Aw, you’re scared, aren’t you?” Chris asks you, rubbing your top lip with his thumb. You hesitatingly nod. “Don’t be. The only thing you should be scared of is us destroying your holes… And by the looks of it, it seems like we already have.” He chuckles in a mocking manner.

You gulp thickly and try to ignore the newfound wetness that is pooling in your core. Along with it is a fire that doesn’t seem to be put out yet. Sebastian’s hands move from your waist to your back, and then to your hips. His movements are gentle and soft, almost as if his intentions hold no malice. But the truth is a complete contrast to what he’s trying to imply.

He spins you around in one swift movement and your world tilts on its axis for a brief moment. You grip his biceps as you try to get a hold of yourself. “Wanna see this pretty face while I fuck you into oblivion.” He mumbles under his breath, and you can feel Chris’s hands running all over your hurting ass. “And I wanna see this ass while I fuck it.” Chris chuckles in your ear once again.

He lands a spank onto your ass, watching the skin ripple in such a marvellous way he swears he’ll never see a girl as pretty as you. Sebastian lifts you up and on instinct, you wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel Sebastian’s cock right near your beaten up, cum-filled entrance. Then, you feel Chris’s tip at your other entrance.

They both thrust into you at once, and a loud squelching noise fills the room. “That cunt is so filled up…” Steve comments from the side, slowly jerking his cock off. You squeeze your eyes shut at his words, and try to block them out. Sebastian lets out a choked moan, whereas Chris groans lowly in your ear.

They both hold you up by your ass, and they start to thrust into you hard and fast. Your head lols back onto Chris’s shoulder and you can barely keep up with them. Sebastian’s hips buck up to your pussy and his cockhead slams into your cervix. “Ow…” You whine, before biting down on your lip. Your lipstick is smeared and your makeup is all ruined, but that seems to be the last thing on your mind.

You’re so fucking sensitive, it’s practically hilarious. Your little body has reached its limit... but maybe your body has no limit anymore. “Shh, just give up, babydoll. You’re doing so good, letting us use you.” Sebastian praises as he delivers a nice, harsh thrust. Chris ruts into you like no tomorrow, treating you like the fleshlight you are.

“Yeah– You love getting used. Bet your boyfriend couldn’t fuck you like this, couldn’t make you feel this good. He probably didn’t know how much of a slut you are.” Chris whispers in your ear whilst he grinds his cock into you. Both of their cocks are covered in cum, but they don’t mind. “These holes belong to us, right? All ours, ready to be used anytime.” Mr. Evans adds.

His slightly greying beard scratches your skin, right where Ransom was choking you. He places a few kisses on your bruising, hurting neck. Your hardened nipples rub against Sebastian’s sweaty chest, and your bulging abdomen touches his, too. “It’s… ‘S too much..” You complain in a dragged out, pathetic whine that turns into a moan. “Oh, it’s too much? Poor baby… Do you want us to slow down?” Chris asks, bringing his thrusts to a halt.

You nod before you start begging because you know they want the cherry on top. “Yes, please. Please, Sir, please slow down.” You ask them politely. You even flash your signature puppy dog eyes, hoping they haven’t gone out of style yet. They both coo at you, before smirking at each other. You shut your eyes and sigh, but your eyelids fly back open when you feel Sebastian and Chris starting to fuck you even harder.

“Too bad,” Sebastian grunts. “You’re going to take whatever the fuck we give you.” He sneers, and you can feel that pressure in your stomach beginning to increase. But it’s too much, more than you can handle. You shake your head and beg them to stop, but your pleas are silenced when Chris wraps his hand around your throat.

Every word that’s in your mouth dies down, and the only thing that comes from you are your moans and whimpers. “You’re gonna come, aren’t you? Just can’t help it, it feels too fucking good, doesn’t it? Do it, come all over our cocks right fucking now.” Sebastian growls as your moans become louder and your grip on their cocks grow tighter.

Your legs are shaking as you come undone. Your hands curl into fists and your eyes shut as they roll back. Your wet walls gush around their thick, long cocks and they continue to fuck you until you’re babbling like a dumb little baby. “Fuck…” Chris curses under his breath, his thrusts becoming sloppy. It’s the same for Sebastian, and inside you’re elated.

Finally, finally, it’s all over.

They both pull out and you’re all but confused. They set you on the ground and you can barely stand without holding on to either Chris or Sebastian. Lee chuckles, and you shut your eyes in embarrassment. “Oh, don’t be like that.” Ransom sasses from Lee’s left side. He’s right. These men just put you through hell, and that’s what you’re going to be embarrassed about?

Pathetic.

Sebastian pushes you to your knees and you fall with a muffled thud. Once again, the carpet digs into your knees but this time it isn’t as painful. You look up, and you’re suddenly surrounded by everyone. Mr. Stan, Mr. Barnes, Mr. Bodecker, Mr. Blackwood, Mr. Evans, Mr. Rogers, Mr. Drysdale, and Mr. Barber… You’re not sure whether you should look at any of them in the eyes or not.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what to do. Should you run? Scream? Fight? Stay put? Millions of thoughts run through your mind but none of them seem to fully register. Everyone’s dominant hands are on their cocks, moving up and down at a rather fast pace. Chris and Sebastian fuck their hands even faster, eager to meet their climaxes.

Their moans and groans go straight to your wet pussy, fueling certain feelings you had been trying to push down all night. “Fuck, yes…” Chris moans coarsely. His balls tighten up and his red tip lets out spurts of cum. He paints your face and you nearly gag out of disgust. “You look even prettier with– with your face painted like that.” Lee groans, and he comes too. “Open up.” He orders in a creepy sing-song voice.

You listen to him obediently, and you haven’t noticed that the alcohol in your system has dissipated. His cum shoots straight into your mouth, his signature taste of muskiness and salt spreading across your tongue. After a few more seconds, Chris finally stops. He admires the way your face is covered in cum — his cum, to be exact. “C’mon, swallow it all like the good slut you are.” Sebastian urges, and his streaks of stickiness begin to shoot from his tip, too.

He paints your chest, almost like it’s a canvas. As much as you hate to admit it, this all turns you on even more. You can feel your wetness leaking from your cunt. Lee’s finger drags through the cum that’s on your face and he scoops some of it up. He pushes his finger into your mouth and shakes his head when he learns you haven’t swallowed his seed yet.

His frown is enough for you to listen. You swallow with difficulty, which comes from his digit. Your tongue laps up the cum on his finger and he smiles down at you. He pulls his finger out with a ‘pop’ and your legs are being spread again. You know for a fact you can’t take anything more, but you also know that they probably don’t care.

Ransom aims for your cunt, Steve too. They both come at the same time, loud moans escaping past their plump lips. More cum joins the gratuitous amount that’s already there. Once they stop moaning and they stop coming, you’re turned over onto your stomach. You already know that the carpet is probably a mess that dry cleaning might not accept.

Bucky and Charles cover your ass in ropes of their seed, and your messy chest presses into the ground. There’s more cum on you and in you than there is dignity. “Fuck, I wish my phone wasn’t dead. I would’ve taken so many lovely pictures of our masterpiece here.” Bucky groans, and he continues to give his cock a few more strokes just to lengthen his orgasm.

Andy is the last, only because he has patience for things like this. He paints your back like he’s Monet, or maybe even Da Vinci. Sebastian kneels down in front of you and picks your head up from off the ground. His thumb smears the cum on your face into your skin, and you don’t even have the energy to ask them if it’s all over. He chuckles, before standing back up again.

“Looks like you really were a good girl this year.”

[babybluebex]

vanilla sponge [bucky barnes x reader]

➽ pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 5.5k ➽ summary: the four times bucky said goodbye and the one time he said hello  ➽ warnings: explicit language, mentions of death, ANGST, eventual happy ending ➽ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BONK!!!! i meant for this to be a fluff blurb but it.... evolved lol. thanks @groupieforbucky​ for beta reading this! masterlist/taglist in bio!

March 10, 1935

You sat on the hood of the car, watching Bucky mess with a candle in front of you. His lighter wasn’t wanting to catch in the cold evening breeze, but he was adamant on lighting the candle up. “What’s the big deal with this candle, Buck?” you asked. “You’re just gonna blow it right out. You really want it that bad?”

Bucky scoffed at you. “Sweet, simple Y/N,” he chuckled. “It’s a tradition for me. My mom used to do it, so I have to.” 

You sighed softly, and you stretched your hands out in front of you. Bucky looked at you for a moment, his eyes sweeping over your frame, and he stepped closer. His large hips settled between your knees easily and he put his hands in yours, and you clicked your tongue. 

“No, you twit,” you giggled. “Gimme the damn lighter.” 

Bucky tilted his head at you and smiled, and he jumped up onto the hood of the car next to you. The two of you had driven out into the countryside for a night alone, just you and your Bucky on his birthday. You had even baked a cake-- you had been saving money for months to be able to afford all of the ingredients for his favorite vanilla sponge. The cake had sat in a box in the backseat of Bucky’s car as you two had walked along the riverside and splashed cold March water on each now, and now it sat next to you as you yourself were sat with Bucky’s jacket around your shoulders. James Barnes was a great guy, charming and cordial, turning 18 that day. He didn’t have much family besides you and your friend from school Steve Rogers, but, as Bucky often said, “You’re easier on the eyes than ol’ Stevie.” 

You lit the lighter with ease, shielding the little flame with your body, and you successfully lit the candle and stuck it into the top of the cake. “Make a wish, Buck,” you said, offering him the cake. “But you can’t tell me what it is, remember.” 

“Well, why not?” Bucky scoffed. “I wanna tell you what my wish is.”

“‘Cause it won’t come true, whacky,” you giggled. “Blow out your candle before it drips wax onto your cake.” 

Bucky looked at you for a long moment, his blue eyes reflecting the orange of the setting sun, and he finally rounded his pink lips and blew out the candle in one strong, swift breath. The smoke curled upwards and you plucked it out of the cake, and you smiled at the bit of white frosting that got on your finger. “Happy birthday, baby,” you said, swiping the tip of his nose with the frosting, and he laughed. “I hope it’s a good one.” 

“It’s the best one yet,” Bucky said. “Besides the inaugural one, of course.” 

“I wish I could’ve gotten you something more than a stupid cake,” you mumbled. 

“No, I love it,” Bucky insisted. “It’s really tasty; you worked hard on it.” With that, he scooped up the bit of frosting from his nose and offered his finger to you, and you licked up the frosting. 

“Well, I’m glad you enjoy it,” you replied, straightening your posture. “C’mon, eat up. My curfew is at nine.” 

Bucky began to eat the cake with his fingers, offering you bits every so often. The car radio was playing just loud enough for you two to hear, and, even with Bucky’s jacket, you found yourself scooting closer and closer to him. You loved him. This wasn’t typical puppy love. You could see yourself baking Bucky vanilla sponge cakes for years to come. Even though he always told you that there was no chance he’d be sent over, you imagined sending him a letter with the recipe so that, at the very least, he could think of you. 

Finally, the box was empty, and Bucky laid back onto the hod, sucking bits of crumbs from his fingers. “Thanks for that, doll,” he said, and you cuddled up into his side. His arms were behind his head, and you settled your head in his underarm. It smelled so much like him and was so ridiculously warm, and you melted into him fully. “I loved it. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, and you pressed a chaste kiss to his arm. “I love this.”

“This?” Bucky asked. 

You shrugged and pressed your hand to his chest. “Just being here with you,” you said softly. “I never want it to end.”

Bucky sighed, and he leaned to kiss your head. “Me too,” he whispered. A few quiet moments passed, and you looked up to meet his eyes. “Can you promise me something, dollface?” 

“Anything,” you agreed. 

“We’ll spend every birthday together,” Bucky said. “Even if we’re apart, you’ll send me letters and all. I’ll do the same for your birthday too.” 

You nodded, and you clasped Bucky’s big hand in your little one. “Deal,” you whispered. “As long as I can make you cakes.” 

“I can’t bake worth shit,” Bucky chuckled. “You’ll have to teach me.” 

“I’d love to do that, Bucky,” you told him. 

March 10, 1942

“Look at you,” you cooed. “All gussied up. What’s the occasion, Sarge?” 

Bucky threw his arms around your waist and spun you around, earning him a squeal. He wore his dress uniform, his tie done perfectly and belt cinched around his jacket. His shoes were shiny and his hair gelled and combed, his face clean-shaven. He smelled like the aftershave you had gotten him for Christmas. There was an obvious occasion, and you figured that it was something more than his 25th birthday. “I wanted to take my dame out to dinner,” Bucky said, turning you so that your back pressed against his front. “Is that allowed, Mrs. Barnes?” 

You giggled as Bucky snuffled his mouth into your neck. “I guess so,” you huffed. “But it’s your birthday! I should be doing something for you!” 

“You let me have dessert for breakfast,” Bucky laughed. Then, he kissed your neck, and he added, “And then you gave me vanilla sponge cake afterwards. You’ve done plenty for me, doll.”

“But it’s usually tradition for the birthday-haver to be the guest of honor,” you said. “And for you to be pleased. It doesn’t make sense that you do all the work today. That’s not how birthdays work.” 

“Well, dollface, that’s why I joined the Army, remember?” Bucky laughed. “Wanna help people, all that business?” 

“I thought it was to get away from me,” you giggled. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Right, because I joined the Army to get away from you and immediately turned around and married you to keep you around,” he scoffed. “You’re not thinking right, woman. What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m still fuzzy from this morning,” you admitted. Bucky’s arms tightened around you and drew you closer into him, and he took a deep breath from your neck, taking in the smell of your perfume and the powder you had used on your face. “You broke my brain, you and your stupid tongue.” 

“And my lips,” Bucky added cheekily. “Don’t forget that.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” you said. “Trust me, I won’t ever forget that. But don’t you agree?”

“Christ, woman!” Bucky laughed. “Let me take you to dinner! Why’re you fighting this so hard?” 

“I’m not fighting it!” you said quickly. “I’m just saying that it’s not how it’s usually done!”

“Well, we don’t do things the usual way, do we?” Bucky laughed. “Anyway, I think I like this better. Any day I don’t shower you with my love is a wasted day.”

“You’re corny,” you laughed. 

“But you love it,” Bucky said, and you shrugged. 

“Tolerate, more like,” you said, and Bucky laughed. The doorbell rang, interrupting the moment, and you said, “Finish getting ready, I’ll be right back.” 

“Don’t take too long, dollface,” Bucky said, knocking your chin lightly with his finger. “I already miss you.” 

You wrestled yourself from Bucky’s grip and went to the door, and you opened it wide to see a man dressed like your Bucky. Older and stern, he struck a sense of fear and apprehension into you. “Is this the home of Sergeant James B. Barnes?” he asked in a thick voice. 

“Yes,” you replied. 

“Is Sergeant Barnes around?” the man asked. 

You swallowed thickly. You already knew what this man’s presence meant. You nodded quickly, stepping aside to let the man in, and you called, “Bucky, sweetheart! You’ve got a visitor!” 

“Is it Stevie?” Bucky called from the depths of the apartment.

“No, it’s…” you started. “Just come here, James.” 

Bucky appeared at light speed. You never called him James, not even on the day that you had gotten married. He was your Bucky. As soon as he spotted the Army man at your side, his body went rigid, and he gave the man a salute. “At ease, Sarge,” the older man said. “You two seem in good spirits.” 

“It’s…” Bucky began and cleared his throat. His stance relaxed, and his arm slid carefully around your waist. “It’s my birthday, sir. We were on our way to dinner.” 

“Might have to cancel that reservation,” the Army man rumbled. “The 107th is being called to Germany.” 

Your heart sank, and you couldn’t control the tears that stung your eyes. Bucky’s jaw flexed tightly as he absorbed the information, and he sighed heavily. “When do we leave?” he asked slowly. 

“In the morning,” Bucky’s superior said. “The planes ship out at oh-five-hundred.” 

Even under Bucky’s arm, the room felt cold. The trumpet on the radio sounded so distant, and you heard the two men having a conversation behind a veil of disbelief. Bucky had promised you that he wouldn’t get sent overseas. He said the 107th didn’t do that. He had promised you. He had fucking promised you. You broke out of his grip and escaped into the kitchen, and your gaze focused on the cake that sat on the counter. A piece was taken from it, the slice that you had allowed him for breakfast, and the cake itself was housed in a pretty glass cover that your mother had bought you as a wedding present. The candle was still stuck into the top of it, the tip burnt black and curled up. 

“Y/N,” you heard from the door, and you turned to see your husband. His face was pale, his blue eyes as dark as the ocean, and he chewed his bottom lip. “Doll, I--”

“There’s nothing you can say to make this better,” you whispered. “You have to go. It’s what it is. I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you.” You turned back quickly, sniffling and trying to hide your tears, and you added, “Your bag’s in the spare room. I think your nametag’s in the box in our closet, I can check if you need me to.” 

Suddenly, his strong arms were around you, holding you to his chest. Bucky didn’t say a word. The material of his dress uniform was itchy against your skin and you could only imagine what it felt like for him, and your knees buckled. The tears came, hot and burning your cheeks, and a sob wrecked your throat. “You promised me,” you whimpered. “You fucking promised me, you bastard! You said that the 107th doesn’t get sent over, you fucking lied to me!”

“I was trying to protect you!” Bucky said, his voice rising to match yours. “You would’ve made yourself sick with all your worrying about when I’d be sent overseas, and I didn’t want that for you!” 

You broke yourself from his grip, and you sniffled up your tears as best as you could. Even if your heart wasn’t crushed, you cried when you were angry, so tears were bound to happen no matter what. “So you lied to me instead?” you asked. “What the fuck’s the matter with you, Bucky? I’ve never lied to you, and I only expected the same from you; I didn’t expect for you to lie about something so fucking big! Jesus Christ, I can’t stand the sight of you.” 

“Doll, please, listen to me,” Bucky said, grabbing your arm. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

Bucky was bigger than you, taller than you, stronger than you. He had a tough skin and an even tougher heart from years of neglect and rejection. But you were his weakness. He cried when you did, laughed when you did, kissed you harder when you kissed him. There was no doubt in your mind that he loved you, but your heart burned with acidic hate. “Get out,” you said. “If you’re gonna leave in the morning, I don’t see why you need to stick around here any longer.” 

“Y/N!” Bucky cried. “Darling, please settle down!”

“If you’re so keen on leaving, then do it,” you said, wrenching your arm from his grip. “And don’t call me darling. Don’t call me doll, don’t call me nothing. You gave that up when you lied to me for years! Our entire relationship! You were already enlisted when we met! You have literally lied to me every day for seven years! What else are you lying to me about? What else are you keeping from me?” 

“Nothing!” Bucky said. “Christ, you need to settle down, please. I know you’re upset, but do you really think leaving things like this will make you feel better?”

“It’ll make me feel something,” you whispered. “Something other than missing you. Go stay with Steve or whatever, I just… I just don’t want to fall asleep next to you, and then wake up and not have you there. I… I wanna say goodbye.” 

Bucky took a tentative step towards you, then pulled you close to him. His eyes were watery as he looked at your face, and he swiped away your makeup with his thumb. He smiled wistfully, every single memory of you that he had shooting through his brain as quickly as they could manage, and he said, “Then don’t. I’m coming back, my love. I promise you. And I’m not keeping anything from you. All my cards are on the table here, doll. I’m coming back for you.” 

You two devised a plan. You and Bucky would go to bed, but he would wake you up when he did, and you would get a goodbye. You helped him pack his bag according to regulation, and you carefully slipped in a picture that your mother had taken on your wedding day. You sat in the middle, veil over your hair, flowers still fresh, with Steve Rogers next to you. You were about an inch taller than him in the picture, but you both were smiling. The bride and the best man. You knew that Bucky needed to be reminded of his brother as much as he was reminded of you. 

When the alarm rang shrilly in the morning, you watched from the bed as Bucky got up and dressed in his uniform. An olive green that complimented his skin, his boots tied around his ankle, and his silver dog tags buried under his collar. He turned to you, silent, crying, and he moved back to the bed. You still wore your nightgown, and Bucky took the lacy hem in his fingers and sighed. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered. 

Your arms went around his neck and tugged him in, and he buried his face in your neck. You caressed his head as he cried, and you tried to hug him as tightly as he had hugged you. “I’ll miss you more,” you whispered back. Your chest hurt with the urge to cry, but even the notion of it made you feel sick to your stomach. “I love you so much, Bucky.” 

“When I get home,” Bucky said. “I’m gonna hold you and never let you go.” 

“I’ll pencil it in,” you said through your tears.

As soon as the door shut, you pulled his pillow to your mouth, closed your teeth around it, and screamed. 

March 10, 1943

Steve’s heart ached as he looked at the door. It was a normal apartment door, a little plaque with the number on it, above a peephole, but there was a little green ribbon held to the door with scotch tape. Bucky’s place. He remembered when Bucky had told him that you and him had gotten a place in the city. He was excited and said that he couldn’t wait for Steve to come over and see it. But that was before Bucky got sent to Germany. Before Steve joined Project Rebirth, before… Everything. He would be surprised if you recognized him right away. 

He knocked on the door. There was a thumping from inside the apartment, and he heard your voice say, “Motherfucker…” before the door opened. You looked good. Your skin was glowing, your hair was done, and you were even wearing makeup. Steve had always known you as very put together, but you were Bucky’s wife. You were beautiful to him. Confusion was etched across your face, and you slowly said, “Can I help you, sir?” 

Steve slowly took off his uniform hat. “You’re Mrs. Barnes?” he said, even though he knew the answer. There was a protocol to follow. The Army allowing him to be the one to deliver the news was enough of a breach. 

“Yes,” you said carefully. “Can I inquire as to who’s asking?” 

Steve cleared his throat. “Captain Steven Rogers,” he began, and your mouth dropped into a shocked look. “With the United States Army.”

“Stevie!” you cried, and you threw yourself at him. You knew that he had finally managed to join the Army and that he was sent to Germany as well, but you hadn’t had any correspondence with him. Bucky had stopped answering your letters and, while you feared the worst, you tried to keep your anxiety at bay. There was a reason, one that didn’t involve Bucky dying. There had to be. “Oh my God! You’re so… Big! I mean, I heard about the whole Project Rebirth thing and saw pictures of you, but… You’re taller than me now!”

Steve gripped you tightly. “I missed you too, Y/N,” he said softly. “Can I come in?” 

“Of course!” you exclaimed. “I mean, it’s just me and Alpine, but you’re always welcome here, Stevie. Can I make you a drink? There’s some cake in the kitchen…” 

Steve distantly listened to your chatter as he stepped into the apartment. It was warm and smelled like vanilla, and the walls were a pleasant beige with pictures. An official picture of Bucky hung in a nice frame right by the door, and Steve smiled at his best friend. “Cake?” he repeated suddenly, processing your words. 

“Yeah!” you replied. “Buck’s favorite birthday cake. I’ve made it for him every year and, even though he’s in Germany right now, it didn’t feel right not to make it, ya know?” 

Steve carefully sat down at the little wooden table in the kitchen, and he watched a fluffy white cat jump up to meet him. You served him a slice of cake on a pretty china plate, and you sat and buried your chin in your palm. “So what’s going on with you? Did you just get back?”

Steve couldn’t even bear to look at the cake. “No,” he said. “I have to go back in the morning.” 

“Oh,” you said, and your heart sank. “Is everything alright?” You pulled Alpine into your grip and gently stroked her back, and you watched Steve’s gaze falter between you and the cake. “Steve. Is something wrong?” 

Steve sighed, and his big shoulders sank. “A few months ago, Bucky and other soldiers in the 107th Infantry were taken as POWs. I led a team and we managed to rescue them. But then Bucky joined a squad that I was a part of, The Howling Commandos. As part of a mission with the Howlies, Bucky was--” 

“Stop,” you hissed. You set Alpine aside and stood up, and you pressed your knuckles to your mouth. You knew it. You knew that Stevie was too good to be true. He was there to deliver bad news, the worst news for a military wife to be told. You sighed and hung your head, and you whispered, “Is there a body, at least?” 

The chair creaked as Steve stood up, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. “We couldn’t locate one,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You sniffled. “An empty casket,” you mumbled. “An empty home, empty promises… Steve. Is there any hope that he’s alive? Even, like, infinitesimal? Even one percent?” 

Steve shook his head, blond bangs falling onto his forehead. “He fell from a train, Y/N,” he said carefully. “We couldn’t recover a body. If he is alive, then… I think that would be worse. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” 

Your legs felt weak, and you braced yourself on the table. Bucky was dead. Your greatest fear had been realized. “What do we do, Stevie?” you whispered. 

“We?” Steve asked. 

“He was your brother,” you said softly. “He had you when he had nobody else. I think you’re more important to him than me.”

“That’s not true,” Steve said simply. “I chose him, but he chose you. He chose you to live the rest of his life with. He was stuck with me.” 

You felt like a ghost as you walked into the living room and sat on the floor. You stared at everything, letting the silence gather around you. The coffee table was still crooked from where Bucky had last sat on the couch; his legs were longer and he always pushed it back to rest his feet. You fussed at him about it, but you didn’t actually mind it all that much. His favorite record was still on the player, playing empty static from when it had ended and you hadn’t flipped it over. Alpine had made a nest out of blankets on the couch, and you tilted your head when you saw that one of them was one that Bucky had made you. He was rather adept at knitting and had made it with yarn he had smuggled back to base, and it came in a package postmarked from Germany. You had referred to it as Bucky’s German blanket, but it was soft and smelled like him. You imagined him sleeping with the unfinished scraps every night. He was gone. He wouldn’t ever put his feet on the coffee table again. He wouldn’t ever get up with a grunt to flip his record and sweep you into his arms and dance with you. 

Steve came to sit next to you, and he put a heavy arm over your shoulders. “I managed to nab this from his stuff,” he began, clasping his hand with yours. “Figured you’d want it. He took it off before missions because he said he didn’t want it to get messed up, and it stayed with his bag. It takes forever to out-process a soldier’s personal belongings, and I… I knew you’d want it sooner rather than later.” 

A gold ring. The one you had put on Bucky’s finger that day. The wedding was beautiful for what it was. It wasn’t big by any means, just you and Bucky, Steve, and your mother. Your mother provided the veil and Bucky the rings, and Steve had picked a few flowers from his neighbors’ garden box. You had elected to get married at the courthouse rather than a church, and you remembered Bucky being flushed and giggling the entire time. You still wore your gold rings; you never took them off. 

You grasped Steve’s hand and gave him a watery smile. “Thanks, Stevie,” you whispered, and your tears finally fell. “It means a lot.” 

“You’ll see him again,” Steve told you. “I know you will.” 

You sighed and held the ring tightly in your palm. “I hope so.” 

March 10, 2023

The breeze was cold as it drifted off of the lake, and Bucky nestled further into his jacket. He was sure there was some level of impropriety to wearing a leather jacket to a funeral, but it was a last minute thing. He didn’t want to come. He felt like he was disrespecting Tony by being there, but Steve had talked him into it. The jacket was the only black thing he owned that covered his arm. 

“You sure you wanna go?” Sam asked again, and Steve scoffed. “I mean… There’s so much here.” 

“You know that’s a lie,” Bucky laughed. “There’s nothing here for Stevie.” 

“Or Bucky,” Steve added. “We’re not from here, Wilson. Not really, anyway. We belong… Somewhere else. Sometime else.” 

Sam nodded slowly. He knew that it was true. Steve and Bucky were better off back in the 1940s. “Buck,” he started. “Just… Be good to her.” 

Bucky turned to Sam. “Who?” he asked, even though he knew exactly who Sam was talking about. He had never once mentioned his wife to Sam, and he knew that Steve wasn’t one to tell. Any artifact that Bucky had of you had been lost to Hydra or time, and the only concrete thing he had was a little newspaper clipping that he kept tucked away: your name, listed in the obituary section. You were nearly a hundred when you were dusted five years ago. Bucky had Washington DC the first chance he had and had hunted down your name on the memorial. Y/N Barnes. Two simple words that had the weight of the universe crashing down on Bucky’s shoulders. Apparently, you had never remarried. You never had children. You had lived as a social worker, helping kids in the system go to good homes, and Bucky knew that he had chosen a good one 88 years ago.

“You say a woman’s name when you sleep sometimes,” Sam said. “Y/N… That’s why you’re going back, right? To see her?”

Even the sound of your name brought a smile to Bucky’s tired face. “Who told you that you could talk to me about my love life?” he asked, even though he was laughing and smiling now. “We’re work partners, remember? We’re not friends.” 

“Right, right,” Sam laughed, kicking a rock with his boot. “Just don’t do anything stupid while you’re gone. Neither of you. I don’t trust the two of you together… All kinds of shenanigans.” 

Bucky smiled at Steve. “How can we?” he asked. 

“You’re taking all the stupid with you,” Steve said, throwing a smile to Sam. “Be good, Wilson. Maybe get a hobby.”

“I hear knitting’s pretty nice,” Bucky said, and he took Steve’s hand to assist in climbing onto the platform. 

“Or baking,” Steve added. 

“Oh, man, I could do with a slice of cake,” Bucky chuckled. 

“Give it ten minutes,” Steve said. “You’ll get your birthday cake.” 

“Whoa, birthday?” Sam said. “Is it your birthday, Buck?”

“Don’t answer that,” Bucky snapped. 

“Jerk,” Steve mumbled. 

“Punk.” 

The sound of the machinery began to whir, and Sam called, “Happy birthday, old man!” 

And they were gone. 

March 10, 1949

You flitted around the apartment, stepping quickly to avoid the little grey kittens all over the floor. As much as you tried to keep them corralled in one place, kittens did what they wanted. The sun coming through the window kept the kitchen floor warm, and Alpine and her babies were often found lounging on the warm tiles. 

“Christ above, Jefferson, look at the mess you’ve made!” you exclaimed, bending down and picking up the little kitten. Jefferson was the second of five kittens, and he was the most rambunctious of the group. He was the one to skitter around the apartment at three with a sudden zest for life and, as cute as it was, it made your sleep schedule hell. The little kitten had wet food all over his face, and you quickly wiped him clean with the corner of your dress. “Need to get you a bib, you little wild man.” 

The doorbell rang, and a firm knock landed on the door simultaneously. “Coming!” you called, then, quieter, you said to Jefferson, “They really wanna see me, huh?” 

You kept Jefferson under your arm as you traipsed to the door, and you knew that Monroe and Buren were right underfoot; they always were. You could hardly walk anywhere without the risk of smushing a kitten. You really needed to get started on adopting these fellas out, but something about being the crazy widowed cat lady at the end of the hall seemed to suit you. The knock came again, harder, threatening to bust the door in two, and you huffed in annoyance. “I said I’m coming!”

You opened the door and pushed Monroe and Buren away with your foot. Little escape artists, they were. “Can I help you?” you asked, looking up to the man that stood there. 

He was familiar, but so distant. He had long, dark hair tied back, wrinkles around his eyes from exhaustion, dark hair around his mouth. He was all muscle underneath a buttoned shirt, and your eyes canvassed the weird shining metallic sleeve over his left arm. His mouth was slightly open as he looked at you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. “Hello?” you asked, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “Do you need anything?” 

“Y/N…” he started, and your body ran cold. “It… It’s you.” 

You quickly set Jefferson on the floor, and you closed the door behind you to prevent kittens from spilling into the hall. “James?” you whispered, your voice cracking. “You… Are you real?” 

Bucky laughed lightly, and he took your hand. He looked down at it, still wearing your rings, and he laughed again. “Oh, dollface,” he whispered, and he put his hands on your face. You flinched away from the sting against your cheek, and Bucky quickly pulled his left hand away. “You’re as pretty as the day I left you.” 

“Buck…” you said softly. “I can’t even begin to… How? I was told that you… You died, Bucky. How are you here?” 

“I’ll tell you, doll,” Bucky said. “I’ll tell you everything.” 

Bucky looked around the apartment as he stepped in, his eyes skating in wonderment. “Looks the same,” he said softly. 

“I couldn’t bear to change it too much,” you said softly. “Oh, umm, the white cat’s named Alpine, and all the others…” You gestured to the kittens littered around the room. “Jefferson, Monroe, Buren, Polk, and Pierce… I can’t tell them apart, really. Jefferson is the energetic one, and Monroe and Buren are always underfoot, but the rest--”

Bucky kissed you. You melted into his body, the way you always had, and you tugged him close by his hair and kissed back. You had missed him. Seven years was a hell of a long time to miss someone. You had almost forgotten the feel of his body against yours. He smelled just like himself, sounded like himself, and looked like himself (maybe a bit worse for wear than the last time you saw him, actually). “Bucky,” you whispered, and his arm went around your waist and pulled you against him even closer. His touch and grip was rougher than before, but that was war, you supposed. “Bucky, I just--”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry, doll. I got here as fast as I could.”

“I don’t need an excuse, love,” you told him. You had forgotten the way he looked at you, his blue eyes gazing at you like you had fixed the stars in his likeness, and you felt like the silly little girl back in high school who had a crush on a senior. “I don’t need anything.”

“Just me,” Bucky whispered. 

“Just you,” you agreed. You sighed and kissed him again, and your heart swelled. Your Bucky was finally home. “Actually, I do wanna know about--”

“The arm?” Bucky asked. 

“The hair,” you finished, twirling a dark strand around your finger. “But, yeah, I’m curious about the arm too.” 

“It’s a long story,” Bucky sighed. 

“‘Long’ as in ‘there’s a lot of moving parts’?” you asked. 

“‘Long’ as in ‘I’ve waited for 81 years to get you back’,” Bucky said, and he pushed your hair behind your ear with a deft metal finger. “‘Long’ as in ‘I was kidnapped by Nazis and frozen for decades’. ‘Long’ as in I traveled back in time to get you’. ‘Long’ as in… Just fucking long, doll. It’s gonna take me a while to tell the story.” 

Your mind was whirling, and you pulled him down to the couch. “So, you fought Nazis and time to get to me?”

Bucky shrugged slowly. “I mean, that’s a vast oversimplification, but, essentially, yeah.” 

You smiled. “You’re gonna need to explain this real slow,” you laughed. “I’ve never been as smart as you.” 

The smile that you had coveted for years was back. “You’re selling yourself short there,” Bucky said. “You’re the best girl I know. You’re my best girl, ya know that? The only girl I’ve ever wanted.” 

After years of crying tears of sorrow, your tears were of happiness. You were smiling and laughing, kissing Bucky and tasting his own salty tears. “Happy birthday, Buck,” you whispered. 

“Did you make a cake?” Bucky asked. 

You nodded. “Of course. Your favorite: vanilla sponge.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Little Bones 1

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); harassment, general creepiness

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: So, I’ve made some positive changes in my life. I am working away at original work, I’m drinking more water, I’m taking my dog on big walks and being more active, and I’m doing my best. So, I was struck with an old yearning to return to Birch. I’ll be updating here and there as I feel and won’t be pushing myself like I did before because I realise how unhealthy and stressful it was on me.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: It gets so sticky down here

A city girl in a small town. What could be sadder than that?

In the city, life went fast. In a place like Birch, the days dragged by as if to remind you of how helpless you were beneath the unyielding and inevitable tick of the clock. The hand wound around and around as you waited for what would never happen. The dreams of your childhood eroded beneath the rolling years leaving trail of crumbs you could not follow back to the beginning.

A woman just beyond her prime trapped in an antiquated career. The empty aisles between the shelves full of books bespoke of a bygone era. The forgotten library at the far end of the main street rarely saw a new face and those familiar were fewer by the day. The staff had thinned to three of you; Melissa was older than you with a daughter nearly your age and Colin was close to retirement if not well past.

You got on well enough, as well as you could given Colin’s faulty hearing aid, and Melissa’s wandering mind. They meant well but they shared the lethargy of the old small town. 

You weren’t nostalgic for the smog or the flashing lights of the city, but there was no life to this place. Only the impending reach of death rattling closer in the roar of the motorcycles and the rumble of the old railroad that ran through the middle of town.

The air nipped at your cheeks as you approached the library. A morning of yawning had you craving a latte from the bakery and the quiet girl behind the counter cheerfully steamed the foam before handing it over. Everyone in this town was familiar, everyone knew everyone else, and yet, you still felt like an outsider.

You felt the heat of the cup through your glove and you looked up as you sensed two figures by one of the thick columns of the library façade. Melissa stood chatting with her daughter, hugging her sweater around her as she’d left her coat inside. You peeked up at the grey sky as snow threatened at any moment with the mid-November bite.

As you thought to pass them and leave their conversation uninterrupted, your name drew you back.

“I was just telling my daughter,” Mel began as she waved you over with a chatter of her teeth. “About that podcast you mentioned. She loves those old Hollywood stars.”

“Oh,” you blew the steam away from the lid of your drink as you neared, “It’s alright. The stories are worth the narrator’s schtick.”

“Yeah? I’ve been closing at the bar and I like to listen to something once it clears out.” Mel’s daughter said. “You wouldn’t mind giving me the name?”

You told her the title of the podcast and helped her find it on Spotify to follow for later. Mel shivered and stood closer to her daughter who was bundled up against the onslaught of Birch’s blustering winter. You knew about her too. 

She was friendly but you saw in her a cynicism more common to city folk. You got along but you were weary of her associations. The local club of crass bikers were neither subtle nor savoury. In the city, it was easy enough to ignore the patch and all that came along with it. The seedy figures were distilled by the broader population but not in Birch. There, the club was the town.

“Mom, you can’t stay out here.” She poked her mother’s arm. “It’s too cold.”

“Little better in the library.” You grumbled and sipped your latte. “The radiator’s broken again.”

“You mean Colin broke it trying to fix what wasn’t broken,” Melissa shook her head, “and I’m fine, dear. I’ve spent more than fifty winters in Birch and been through worse than this.”

“Yes, but you were younger then--” Her voice dwindled as she turned her head to listen to the distant roar of exhaust.

You followed her gaze and noted the way her forehead creased at the noise. She swallowed and turned to watch as a dark rider turned onto the main road from the highway. It was the man who kept her entwined with the club, the one who marked her latent authority over all others. The only one who outranked her.

She swore and looked over her shoulder at her mother. Her mother touched her arm. It was a telling and surprising moment. Her expression read of all the disgust you felt for the bikers.

At least a dozen bikes followed the first and Bucky raised his glove hand to signal the others to slow as he pulled up to the curb just before the library steps. You backed away as his breath clouded around him and he waved Mel’s daughter closer. He craned to kiss her as she bent, her fingers picking at her jeans as she did, then he nodded his greeting to Mel.

“What are you doing?” He asked tersely.

“Can’t I see my mother?” The daughter challenged and the biker scoffed.

“Of course,” he killed his engine and the others mimicked him in fine order. “I wouldn’t keep ya from her but you didn’t tell me you were going downtown.”

“You were gone.”

You listened to the conversation as you stayed close to the column, thinking of sneaking up the steps into the library before you heard too much. Your curiosity had you searching the crowd of leather jackets as their wearers tried to conceal their impatience with their boss’ impromptu halt.

Among them, a large man sat casually in his seat, his feet planted on the cold pavement as he rolled slightly back and forth. Strands of his thick blond hair were drawn back beneath his helmet into a thick braid as the rest hung around his shoulders. His patch was different from the rest, an old Norse symbol you didn’t know the meaning of. There were several others who wore the same cut, including a dark-haired woman who chatted with another golden-haired rider.

You tasted your latte again, it cooled quickly as the cold air battered the cardboard. As you sipped and sidled around the column, your eyes were caught by another pair. The very man you’d just been watching was now focused on you. You stopped, hoping like some frightened animal that your stillness would ward off his attention.

“Barnes,” the broad blonde man spoke as he finally looked away. “You’ve not even introduced me to your woman. I assume that’s why we’ve stopped.”

Bucky shifted on his bike and sighed. You hadn’t expected the man to have an accent. His voice was deep but the subtle lilt defined his tone as unforgettable. The dark-haired biker of Birch rolled his eyes before he pointed to his girl and gave her name, then to Melissa as he explained their relation.

You sidestepped around the column to the stairs of the library and turned away. You were stopped again by the same voice.

“And that one? The quiet one?”

You spun back slowly and looked at each biker, many unconcerned with conversation, as a few stared back at you or at the viking-like rider. Bucky shook his head and furrowed his brow at Melissa’s daughter. She hesitated before she gave your name coolly referred to you as just another librarian. She was trying to deflect the focus and you were thankful for it. You wondered at her own blatant spite for that breed of man.

“No one important,” Bucky grabbed his keys. “Come on, honey. I’ll give you a ride back.”

“I can walk.”

“Get on.” He said gruffly and turned the keys.

The motorcycles thrummed back to life in a cacophony. You flinched and turned back to the library doors. Your lunch was almost over as it was and the cold was starting to make your head hurt. You heard the bikes tear off as you reached the door and you turned back to watch as Melissa ran up after you.

You held the door for her and paused as you watched riders tear away. The blonde remained and watched you with a smirk. He winked as he slowly rolled after the others and pushed off. You followed Melissa inside and pulled the door shut tightly behind you.

“I’ll finish the returns,” you slipped past her, “you should try to warm up.”

“Thanks, dear,” she rubbed her hands together as she neared the curve desk you all shared, “God, that man makes my skin crawl.”

“But your daughter--”

“She handles him as well as she can,” Melissa sat and logged onto her boxy PC, “she’s stronger than me, that’s for sure.”

You sat and chewed on the thought. You just assumed her daughter leaped at the opportunity to date the most powerful man in town. What else could a girl from Birch hope for?

“She doesn’t…”

“He keeps her safe, I guess,” Melissa muttered, “I don’t say nothing against it. I won’t, for her sake as much as mine.”

You lowered your lashes and turned to the stack of unscanned books. You took the first and opened the cover.

“I didn’t mean to-- I don’t really know anything about the… bikers.”

“Hope you never do, dear,” she said listlessly. “Those men, if you can call them that, are the lowest form of humanity.”

💀

You always took the same route home. It wasn’t very far. You lived in the studio apartment above Tammy’s, the clothes shop where all the local seniors got their outdated outfits. The store itself smelled like a retirement home but you were not often disturbed by the activity below. Like everything in Birch, it wasn’t very exciting.

Your walk took you past the diner and along the stretch across the street from the town’s sentinel, The Asp. The bar was the only place in town which always seemed to be bursting with life. You had an old Chevrolet parked behind the building but you never drove to work, only on your odd trip to the city to get away from the suffocation malaise of main street.

That day as you fumbled to get your earbud back in, you heard a whistle. You got a few comments now and again about your habit of blocking out the townsfolk and the town itself with your music. In the city, you didn’t just say hi to every person you walked by and you had little inclination to change that habit.

You kept going and the whistle came louder. You heard boots hammer across the street and you stopped as the earbud once more fell out of your ear.

“Eh, kitten,” you turned to the long-haired biker. A golden hammer hung from a chain and peaked out from the open collar of his jacket. He tucked his hands in his pockets as you faced him with blatant irritation. “We didn’t get to meet properly, did we?”

You stared at him and let out a foggy breath. You leaned on your left heel and shook your head with a scoff.

“No.” You said and turned back along your path.

“No?” He repeated and his footsteps followed closely. “I’m only being friendly, kitten. I’m not from around here and I’m just tryn’ ta make a few friends.”

“I’m not interested,” you march onward and stop short. 

You realised if you went any further, you’d lead him straight to your door. You didn’t need him knowing where you lived. You veered off and crossed the street, he stayed close just like your shadow. You’d stop by the liquor store and wait him out there.

“Where are you going, kitten?”

“Can’t you take a hint?” You nearly tangled your own legs as you pivoted sharply. “I’m sorry for your luck that you’ve ended up in Birch but I don’t know you and I don’t want to know you.” You grasped the handle of the liquor store door. “Oh, and my name isn’t kitten.”

“I know your name. I remember it.” He grinned and you swung open the door. He caught it behind you and you let out a frustrated sigh as he trailed you inside. “It’s almost as gorgeous as you.”

“Do those work on the women where you’re from?”

You stared at the shelf of fruit wines and tried to ignore him. You were starting to build a real thirst for the bottles.

“I don’t meet a lot of women like you, kitten.”

“Would you stop it--” You blinked and stomped further down the aisle.

“Thor. My name’s Thor.” He offered gallantly. “But you can call me whatever you wish.”

“I could think of a few things.” You bent down to read the label of a wine from the Maritimes.

“Mmm, my thoughts run wild, kitten.” He purred and you looked up at him in confusion.

You swiped the bottle from the shelf and stood straight. His eyes clung to your ass and as you turned, they swiftly found your chest. Neither were well-hidden by your jacket, even as thick as it was. Your weight often deterred the whistles and the leers, but not this time.

“How many ways can I tell you to go away?” You hissed and move to step around him. He turned and watched you pass. He shivered as you brushed against him unwillingly in the narrow aisle.

“So, you got a man?” He questioned as again he tailed you to the counter. You grabbed a small bottle of Vodka from the rack beside it and dug out your wallet.

“Does it matter?”

He bent and leaned on the counter beside you and you ignored his attempt to look you in the face. You paid and took your change as the clerk bagged your purchase.

“To me, everything about you matters, kitten.”

You shot him a sharp look and took your paper bag. You hugged it close and glared at him as he straightened. “Stop calling me that.”

“Here,” he gripped the top of the bag, “I’ll help.”

“I’ll smash this bottle over your head,” you threatened. “Now I’ve told you to leave me alone.”

He chuckled and dipped his head. His hair slid down the leather and he scratched his thick beard.

“Don’t worry, kitten, I like to play.” 

He looked at you again, his blue eyes twinkling. You were startled as suddenly he ‘woofed’’ at you. You backed away and he kept close as is to chase you, ready to salivate like the dog he mimicked.

“Get away!” You shouted and raced for the door.

His barks turned to laughter and the bell announced your stagger out onto the street. You didn’t look back as you charged across the street and narrowly missed being mowed down by Linda Karling. You reached the other side as you heard the liquor store door clatter a second time. You sensed his shadow as you turned down a side street.

You walked until you were certain he wasn’t following. The cold blew up your jacket as you mapped out your way back. You could sneak around the back of the clothes shop and sneak up the metal escape. You peered back and forth, the old house just at the town limits nearly faded into the dimming sky and main street shrouded by brick walls.

“Hey,” a small voice surprised you as a woman neared, walking the same route as you. “Whatcha doing all the way up here?”

You stared at her dumbly. It was the woman who worked at the bakery. She hung out with the club too.

“Nothing, I…” You grabbed your earbuds and put them back in your ears. “I was listening to my music and got carried away.”

“Oh?” she chittered like a mouse. “No one comes this way. Only me to see my ma.”

You nodded at her and gave an awkward smile. “Mmhmm. Well, thanks. I probably would’ve wandered right out of town.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” she said forlornly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“For your latte. And you always get the banana loaf when it’s on special and tomorrow’s Tuesday.”

You sniffed and rubbed your neck. You hated that. You hated that everyone knew you, that everyone knew what you did, and that they assumed they knew everything else. But she was sweet and you couldn’t hate her for never being freed from the prison of Birch.

“Oh yeah,” you squeezed the paper bag so it crinkled and pulled out your phone with your free hand, “tomorrow.”

[azaleavi]

Woman Like Me - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky meets someone in Madripoor who reminds him of himself a long time ago

Warning(s): language, bad writing lol

Author’s Note: this is my first time writing so any feedback is appreciated and i didn’t know how to end it so it’s horrible but i tried

Word count: 2.2K

Part 2

“Selby will see you now”

The three men walk through the corridors and into the room where Selby is waiting for them. It is full of cash and guns on tables.

“You should know Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.”

“Not a demand, an offer” Zemo sits down on the couch while Sam and Bucky stand on either side of it.

“A lot has changed since you were here last” Selby eyes Bucky up and down, clearly recognising him as the Winter Soldier “By the way I thought you were rotting away in a German prison” she turns back to the man sitting in front of her and lifts her eyebrows “How did you escape?”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo shrugs “I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for”

“Yore taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger” the woman points at Sam then smiles at him, not paying attention to Zemo anymore. Sam nods slightly, trying to speak as little as possible. Selby playfully purrs at him, joking about his name. Sam looks away not wanting to give her the satisfaction of replying to that. She turns back to Zemo and smiles.

“What’s the offer?”

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum” Zemo stands up walking over to where Bucky is standing acting like the Winter Soldier “and I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course” he holds Bucky’s shoulders while he tries his best to not react. That was not part of the plan. But of course you can’t trust Zemo to not change it to whatever benefits him.”He will do anything you want” he grabs a hold of his chin insinuating things Bucky doesn’t even want to think about. He hates it. Feeling like a toy between the two and he can’t do anything about it. Not if he wants to succeed in getting the information they need.

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember” she smiles, pleased. “I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately” Zemo sits back down on the couch waiting for Selby to start talking.

“Yeah you were right to came to me. Arrogant, but right. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or…” she looks at Bucky for a second “condemn, depending on what side you’re on.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?”

“Oh. The bread crumbs you can have for free but the bakery is gonna cost you Baron. And unfortunately you don’t have the means to pay me” she stands, walking closer to Sam. Bucky immediately tenses, ready for a fight. Something doesn’t feel right.” I don’t need your Soldier” she smiles, something sinister behind it ”as I have my own little puppet. Tell her to come in” the three of them freeze as one of the men with guns goes through a door in the back.

They hear his voice but can’t make out what he says. When he stops talking a woman walks out, into the room they’re in. Bucky feels like his world is turned upside down. The woman is fully decked out with guns and knives and is wearing tactical gear with combat boots. But that’s not what unnerves Bucky. It’s the dead, soulless eyes that stare back at him. A cruel reminder of what he used to look like.

“Come here girl” Selby smiles and the woman complies without a question never taking her eyes off the strangers in the room “look at that. Isn’t it amazing what a few words can do a person’s mind when said in the right order?” Bucky finally looks at Selby realising she is watching him “Isn’t that right Winter Soldier?” Bucky can’t speak. He knows he can’t break character, but it’s damn hard not to when he sees someone like him and he knows he should help.

“How is this possible?” Zemo breaks the silence, clearly baffled by seeing another winter soldier-like person.

“Well it was quite easy to get a hold of Hydra’s files in Madripoor” Selby walks behind the woman who can’t be older than 25 and puts her hands on her shoulder. “Don’t worry though, they were sadly destroyed after we used it once on her. But we got the perfect soldier out of it” Bucky tenses at the mention of the perfect soldier. That’s what he was called back then. I need to help this girl he thinks I can’t let her go through the same shit I had to go through. He looks at Sam who is already looking back at him. They seem to think about the same thing.

“Harcos…” Selby starts talking in a foreign language but she is interrupted by a glass window shattering. Bucky sees Selby on the floor dead, a bullet hole in her chest and he immediately goes into fight mode. The woman or harcos he should say doesn’t waste any time and takes a gun off her back but before she can start shooting he is in front of her. He tries to twist the gun out of her hands but he finds out that she is strong. Too strong for her to be human. She is a super soldier which shouldn’t surprise him at this point but it still does.

They start fighting but their strength is evenly matched and Bucky doesn’t want to kill her. He uses his metal arm to finally grab the gun from her and throws it to the side. She kicks him in the chest and he is flung backwards into the wall. Bucky gets a hold of the gun he threw away and knocks her out with the back of it. The others finish fighting as well and they look at each other.

“Now what?” asks Sam looking at the woman lying on the floor.

“I recommend we kill her” chimes in Zemo before Bucky can start talking.

“We are not killing her” Bucky goes and picks her up, thinking about how they could get her out of here without drawing too much attention. He hold her bridal style and puts her head against his neck, hiding her face.”we need to get out of here and fast” Zemo walks to the door, opens it a little and looks through the open space.

“Put down your guns and follow my lead” the other two are hesitant to do what Zemo says but they don’t really have any other choice. They walk through the doors and out into the streets trying to look as casual as possible. Well, as casual you can be with an unconscious woman in your hands. But in Madripoor it’s not an uncommon sight so no one really pays attention to them. That is until every single person in the vicinity starts getting text messages and looks at them. Shit they know what happened Bucky thinks and they start to walk faster. Suddenly the people around them get out their guns and start shooting at them. Zemo runs to the right while Bucky and Sam start running straight down the street.

“I can’t run in these heels” Sam shouts trying to keep up with Bucky who is running slower than he could so he doesn’t leave Sam behind. They turn into a darker alley with to people on motorcycles following them. Suddenly two shots rang out from somewhere in one of the buildings and the motorcyclists are dead on the ground.

“You seem to have a guardian angel” Zemo shows up, out of breath from all the running.

“Well this is too perfect” Sharon shows up out of nowhere holding a gun in her hands. Her eyes immediately go to the woman in Bucky’s hands and the men can see her surprise. “Please tell me that’s not Harcos in your hands” Bucky looks down to see the woman, who seems to be calmly sleeping. How she didn’t wake up while they were running around is beyond him, but he is glad he doesn’t have to fight her again.

“Would you believe me if I said no?” asks Sam trying to lighten the situation.

“We need to get out of here before they see you carrying around Madripoor’s most valuable asset.” Bucky tenses, pulling her closer and not liking how that sounds. Asset. The word brings back horrible memories of times he would much rather forget. He needs to help this girl. He will not allow someone else be called asset “come on, I have a place in High Town where you can lie low” Sharon starts walking and the men follow him, Sam dragging Zemo with him.

They walk into her place which is filled with stolen artwork, that turns out to be the original.

“So can you tell us who is this harcos that Bucky decided to save?” Sam sends a look at Bucky who is putting the woman down on the couch. She is still out cold which is starting to get concerning.

“Y/N L/N. 24 years old. Has been a super soldier since she was a kid. She was Nagel’s first patient” she draws air quotes with her fingers ”well… the first successful one anyway. And when the Blip happened Selby used the chaos to get the files on the brainwashing and used it on her. Her memories are not gone like your resident Winter Soldier here but she still has trigger words that turn her into a mindless killing machine” they all watched the girl who started to stir awake from her deep sleep.

“Uhm… how are we going to go about this?” Sam watched her intently, getting ready for a fight. Bucky was still standing next to her when she opened her eyes staring straight into his. She sat up, panicked trying to crawl back from him. She obviously knew who he was and she was scared. How is she scared of him? She is supposed to be a super-soldier.

“What do you want?” she speaks for the first time.

“Hey it’s okay, we don’t want to hurt you” Sam walked over to her trying to calm her down. She snaps her head at him.

“Well then I would like an explanation” Y/N is till unsure about them but once in her life she wants to trust people and maybe the Avengers would be a good start.

“Do you remember fighting me?” Bucky speaks up.

“Yeah, kinda hard to forget fighting the Winter Soldier” she looks back at Bucky.

“I’m not him anymore” he shakes his head.

“Well at least someone got out of this thing” she shows a pained smile

“I head you have trigger words too”

“Yes and I would rather you don’t say them” he can’t understand how she can joke about something like this.

“We don’t even know the words” Sharon speaks

“Although I wish I did” Zemo smiles trying to get a rise out of y/n. But he doesn’t know her so he doesn’t know that that’s a very hard thing to do. Oh she gets angry easily but she was trained to not show it and not act on it.

“Very funny Zemo” she sends him a mock smile. He seems surprised that she knows who he is which she notices “Yes I know who you are, don’t be so surprised. So what are the Avengers doing in Madripoor?” she turns to Sam.

“A group of people got hold of the super-soldier serum and they used it on themselves so we are trying to stop them” Sam explains

“Sounds fun”

“I think she would be a valuable help” Zemo speaks again and Bucky immediately thinks that he has some ulterior motives.

“Stop your schemes Zemo” Sam shuts him down but y/n seems to be deep in thought.

“I mean she could help…” Bucky starts but Sam sends him a pointed look so he shuts his mouth.

“We do not need another liability with us” Sam looks at y/n who is already looking at him “No offence”

“None taken, but I agree with James” she stands up and walks over to Sam “I understand that I’m not stable, but I know what it’s like to have the serum in your veins and I want to help any way I can. As long as no one says the words I’m good”

“Yeah that’s exactly my concern. What if someone does know the trigger words and uses it against us? Against you?” he points at her. She thinks about if for a second.

“Okay how about this? I go with you but only step in to help when you say I can.” She offers, a hopeful look in her eyes. Sam knows she just wants to help but it’s still risky. He sighs.

“You can come if you do what I say. But if I feel like you are risking our mission you are sitting it out and only come in when I tell you to. Understand?” he says firmly, holding out his hand. She takes it and they shake hands.

“Let’s get these super-soldiers”

[anagentinwriting]

Lifeline - Part 3

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: ~2100

Warnings: Mentions of fire

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

After much convincing from Carol and Nat the other day, you decided to go to the firehouse to meet this Steve face to face.  It wasn’t unusual for you to stop by the firehouse, but you thought making a batch of your mom’s to die for chocolate chip cookies would give you more of a motive. You didn’t want to go, but it would shut Nat and Carol up for a while. 

Walking into Station 107 Fire and Rescue’s garage, your eyes traveled to the second story loft overlooking the ambulance and the trucks. It was a cozy, warm space that had all the amenities of home. On one side of the loft was the kitchen with barn red walls, modern cabinets, and a huge fridge. On the other side was a living room filled with oversized couches, a flatscreen connected to a gaming system, and a pool table. A dining table sat in the middle separating both spaces in the large open area while exposed wooden beams hung from the ceiling. There was a hallway that led to the two dormitories towards the back of the compound. And below the loft were their lockers, gear storage, showers, and a small gym. 

A guy jumping out of one of the trucks makes you stop in place. He had broad, muscular shoulders and a small waist any girl would want to wrap their arms around. You knew everyone at this firehouse, so you could only suspect this man to be Steve. He shot you a quick glance your way, noticing the ever-growing stubble on his face, before closing the truck door and coming over to you. Nat and Carol were right; he was a good looking fella. He was someone you could’ve easily fallen for, but you didn’t think like that anymore. Hell, back then, you would’ve already had your kid's names picked out without even saying two words to him.

“Hi ma’am, can I help you?” He raised an eyebrow, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Is Thor around?”

“Oh, ah, you didn’t hear,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this--” he ran his hand through his hair, looking everywhere but at you “--but he passed away last week on a call saving a kid.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” you gasped, shaking your head. You covered your hand over your mouth to hide the smile appearing on your face. Steve had no idea who you were, so might as well play a little game.  

“I’m sorry. Afraid not, ma’am,” he sighed. “It was a shock to us all.” 

“Then, what about the baby?” You placed your hand on your stomach. “Am I going to have to do this on my own?” You glanced back up at him, and his eyes went wide, not sure how to answer this.

“A baby?” You covered your hands over your face and let out a fake sob. “I’m sorry, ma’am. He...um...he didn’t die. It’s a thing he wants all of us to say to the girls who come looking for him.”

You uncover your eyes, staring at him for a brief moment until you shake your head at your brother’s orders. “He told you to tell them this? That he died?” 

“Yes?” he said, coming out more like a question than a statement. 

“Poor girls, well not all poor because they should’ve known better,” you sighed, letting out an annoyed breath. “I’m going to have to talk to my asshole brother for this.” 

“Wait...uh...are you YN?”

“Yes. Do I know you?” You narrowed your eyes at him, eyeing him over. 

“Yeah...I mean no...at least not officially, but you helped me like a week or so ago on a call.”

“Sorry, I take like two hundred calls a shift sometimes. It’s hard to remember which one is which sometimes.” You shrugged, trying to not make it come off too obvious that you knew the one he was referring to.

“Right, sorry. It was the call with the electric pool. You told me to use…”

“..the hose and pulled her across,” you finished. “Oh right, right. That must make you Fireman Rogers, then.” You held out your hand, and he shook it with his cleaner hand.

“Please, call me Steve.” You nodded. “It was a great idea you came up with. You’re a real hero.”

“Ahh...thanks. It comes with the territory,” you answered, rubbing your hands together. “We try to save as many as we can, sometimes that doesn’t mean everyone, but we got to try, right.”

“Absolutely,” he nodded, eyeing you over. “Thor went to grab groceries with Val, but you’re more than welcome to wait upstairs in the loft.” He pointed over his shoulder before resting his hands on his belt, making his biceps double in size.

“No, it’s okay. I have to get to work, but I’ll give these to you.” You hand him the container, and he opens it, licking his lips. “Made them yesterday and figured I would drop a container off here since Thor was eyeing them.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled, snapping the lid back on. “They look good.”

“I would try at least one because they go pretty darn fast.”

“I’ll take that into consideration.” He nodded, holding up the container to you. “It was nice meeting you, YN.”

“You too, Steve.” 

“WHOA, YN! Is that you girl,” Sam shouted from the balcony. “What are you doing here?”

“Dropping off some cookies,” you shouted back, covering your hands around your mouth. 

His eyes widened, sprinting to one of the staircases on the side of the loft. He came up behind Steve and yanked the container out of Steve’s hands. Steve narrowed his eyes, watching Sam open it and take a big whiff of them.

“Man, Steve, you don’t know what you just gave up? I ain't sharing these with nobody.” He opened the container, grabbed a cookie out, and took a bite out of it, letting out a satisfied sound. Steve tried to grab one, but Sam shut the lid on his fingers. “Nope!” He shot daggers at Steve, but then he looked back at you with a gap-tooth grin on his face. “Thank you, YN, you’re the best.”

“Sam, you should at least give Steve one, since he has never had them before.”

“I guess you do have a point there.” He pointed his cookie at you, then at Steve before taking another bite, mulling over the idea. “Fine, just one…well half of one.”

Steve slowly reached in and grabbed half of a cookie and took a bite. His eyes shot to you, and he nodded his head. “Wow, these are incredible.” 

“Thanks.” You shot him a small smile. “I should get going, but I will see you, gentlemen, later.” 

“Safe travels, YN,” Sam waved.

“Have a good day at work,” Steve added with a side smirk.

You turned around and started for the door only to see Carol walk in. Upon seeing you, Carol’s mouth twitched into a knowing smirk as her eyes drifted from you and Steve. 

“I see you came and checked out the new transfer,” Carol winked, wiggling her eyebrows at you. 

“No,” you replied. “I dropped off some cookies.”

“Good cover.” she nodded. “What do you think?”

“Yeah, sure, he seems nice, but I am..”

“...not looking for a relationship...yatta yatta yatta,” she finished for you. “It doesn’t have to be a relationship, you know.” 

“Wow. Yup, you went there.”

“Of course I did, besides the way his eyes are traveling over you tells me he would be ready to mingle with you.” 

You peeked over your shoulder, noticing he wasn’t even looking at you. He was still talking to Sam, but his eyes flashed to yours for a brief moment. You turned back to Carol and narrowed your eyes at her.  

“Well look at that, now he knows you're interested.” She teased, making you scoff. “Peace out.” She patted you on the shoulder, walking past you. You watch her retreat past Sam and Steve, grabbing the cookies from Sam, forcing a frown to his features. 

Steve watched you walk out the door and popped the other half of the cookie into his mouth. He dusted the cookie crumbs on his pants, and Sam punched Steve on the bicep. “Ow, man. What was that for?”

“She’s cute, right?” Sam asked, shooting him a wink. 

“Yeah, smart, too,” he nodded, turning around to head up to the loft with Sam. “Does she know everyone in the firehouse?”

“She sure does.” Sam nodded. “YN moved here about three months ago. I know it had something to do with her ex, but I didn’t want to pry. Not my business, but she showed up in a very fragile state.” Sam shook his head at the memory.

“She doesn’t seem that way now,” Steve added, catching the glint in Sam’s eye.

“Yeah, she’s getting better, man. Thor got her a job, and she always comes by bringing cookies when she can. She’s the best.” Sam smirked. “Why are you interested in Thor’s sister?” He nudged Steve in the arm. 

“What...no...I was just curious.”

“Okay, we’ll call it that for now,” Sam grinned, showing off the gap in his teeth. 

____________

Steve sat on the couch re-reading one of his favorites. He glanced up, shaking his head to see Sam and Bucky bickering about who ate all the peanut butter but put the empty container back in the cabinet.

 “The strongest firefighter has returned bearing groceries,” Thor announced, walking up the steps with both his arms full of groceries. “Two trips are for the weak.”

“We get it, Blondie,” Valkyrie grumbled behind him, carrying groceries as well.

“Did you get more peanut butter?” Sam asked, giving Bucky the stink eye.

“Yes,” Val replied. “But, you can only have it if you help put groceries away.”

It was like a silent ritual, gathering around and helping put groceries away. It was also the chance to see what they would be eating for the next week or a few days, depending on how long it would last. Everyone always put in a request to what they wanted, but depending who was on groceries for the week would determine if they were nice enough to pick it up.

“Here’s Steve’s old man food,” Sam smirked, handing him his oatmeal. Steve couldn’t hide his small smirk as he grabbed it and put it in the cupboard. 

“At least I’m not eating your peanut butter.”

“What the hell, Steve?” Bucky narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were on my side for this.”

“I’m not getting in the middle of it,” Steve held up his hands as he continued to put groceries away.

“Thor, again. Why all the Poptarts?” Sam asked, pulling three boxes from one of the bags.

“New flavors, duh!”

“You know Thor loves his Poptarts; honestly, I think they taste like cardboard,” Val remarked, pulling out her energy drinks. 

“No, they don’t! You're being ridiculous. They have the same flavor as the box says. You want a hot fudge sundae without the brain freeze; have a Poptart. Want s'mores, but don’t want the sticky mess; have a Poptart. It’s crazy the amount of flavors they have.” He looked down at a box with a child-like smile on his face.  

“A woman stopped by looking for you,” Steve added, shutting one of the cabinet doors.

“Did you give her the usual charade?” Thor asked, folding the reusable grocery bags. 

“About how you passed away saving a child in the fire?”

“Dude, why are you still going on with that charade? It’s awful,”  Bucky added, only to get ignored. 

“Raging fire, did you say raging fire?” Steve nodded. “Good man,” Thor grinned, pointing his finger at him. “How’d she take it?” 

“She was upset but doesn’t know what to do about the baby now.” Thor’s mouth dropped open. “She’s in the bathroom now.”

“Told you to keep that sword in your pants, pirate angel,” Val grunted, hitting him on the bicep. 

“Ow...well, I’m sorry, Val,” Thor shouted with sarcasm. “What you...you just let her stay? What did she look like?”

Carol came out of the bathroom, and Thor stared at her. “What?” Everyone started laughing, forcing Thor to chuckle along and shake his head. 

“Haha, you guys got me. Hilarious you guys, really.”

“Your sister did stop by though,” Steve said, opening a bag of blueberries.

“Was she okay? What did she say?” Thor rushed out. All the giddiness from his eyes changed to something more serious. 

“Um, nothing serious, dropped off some cookies. There on the counter next to all the other tokens of appreciation and cards we get from people.” Steve pointed over his shoulder. 

“Ooooo, yes.” He rubbed his hands together, going over to grab one, but took the lid off, lifting the empty container upside down. “Really? Come on, she’s my sister. I deserved at least one.” 

“Well, she must like us better,” Sam mentioned, taking a bite of the last cookie.

______

AN: Thanks for reading Part 3. She finally met Steve officially, but will this put a stop to Nat and Carol pestering her? Only time will tell...haha! Any guesses on who is eating Sam’s peanut butter? Do you think it’s Bucky or someone else? And I thought it felt necessary to give a little nod to the first Thor, and have his choice of snack be Poptarts...haha! And finally, the whole layout of this firehouse is very similar to Station 118 firehouse on the show 9-1-1. I just love the whole loft and rustic flair to it, but you can imagine it however you want!!  Any who, thanks for reading, comments always welcome! 

[boredoverlord]

Bucky X Reader - Hold the Line

I came in here to show you a good time, so here's my personal work and my very first fanfiction of all time. And because I'm a thirsty bitch, of course it's smut.

Summary : As a young and talented psychologist specializing in difficult people in prison, you believed in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with the SHIELD. Turned out you were tricked to work for HYDRA.

For three years they made you do horrors in the name of an ideology you despised, but you may have found the occasion to finally make a change for the good, when they introduced you to your new patient. 

The Winter Soldier.

Rating : Explicit, please kids, look away ( of course you won't because you're cute little rebels, but please do it)

Word count : 6.4k (chapter 1)

TW:   Light BDSM (for now) Because Bucky is a massive Sub and it seems nobody agrees with me, so I have to do the lord's work here.

Foul language, mention of violence and murder, Masturbation, male orgasm and a tiiiny bit of choking. I started lightly 

 Please consider reading this on Archive of our own or read it below the cut. Lemme know what you think !

Chapter 1: A Story of Almost Everything

You never were the type to brag. But one thing you know is : you’re damn good at your job. Years and years of psychology studies, you barely got to parties, you hardly made any friends, and your sleeping schedule is still a nightmare. Those were sacrifices you did for one sole purpose : helping others. To be the last resort for people who have lost everything. You always firmly believed that you could make a change in the world, even the slightest, even for just one person. That would have been enough to make your lifetime worthy. What's more noble than just a genuine try to make it better, after all ? So you wasted your youth on studies, without a damn blink. And never one ounce of regret. You did it because it felt right. You’re not very brave, but you decided to face your fear a couple of times. You even were an intern in a high security prison, talking to broken men and women who hated your guts. Trying to lead them to another path of life. You heard stories that could break any mind. Only time could tell if you actually helped them. But that’s part of the job. Hope. And hard work.

  That’s why when you started to have a growing reputation, at 26 after five years of studies and several years working in prison and rehabilitation, you were ecstatic when S.H.I.E.L.D contacted you. You quit everything, starting with your homeland in Europe, to fly to Washington DC, to visit the headquarters. The new building, the thrill of novelty, the clean rooms, the medical wing, and Alexander Pierce himself coming to shake your hand and telling you personally the wonders they have in mind for the psychology field. You could prepare people to save the world, you could have all the resources to make research, and fix minds that were supposed to be beyond repair. It was supposed to be just a quick trip, but the visit wasn’t even done when you looked at your guide with enthusiasm : you weren’t going home. Just cancel the fly. You’re taking the job immediately.   It was three years ago.

Enough to understand how fucked you are.

 You didn’t save anyone, you didn’t even work to make the world a better place. Oh but you did work to make a change. A change for HYDRA. They tortured you to make you swallow their ideology, but even if your body surrendered, your mind didn’t, even if it was still a perpetual work on yourself. You never believed in this masquerade, but you know it doesn’t matter. Because HYDRA knows how good you are at your job, and you’re a precious asset. So precious that they pushed all your buttons to make you obey. You tried to act and escape. Their last resort is the Damocles sword they put over your family’s head. Next act of rebellion, heads will roll. And it won’t be yours : no, no. HYDRA won’t give you this relief. It will be your loved ones. So you’re doing what you have to do. It’s the most cowardly choice, you know it. And you’re ashamed. But you’re too terrorised to make it otherwise. So you’re here to twist people's minds to swallow whatever Hydra wants. You make them understand the importance of the organization, when they can’t take it anymore, you make them understand that not only they can, but they must . You saw vulnerable people giving their life to this awful cause, and you are the person to make them understand it was the right thing to do. They gave you kind people with dreams, morals and passion, and you turn this into anger, hate and war, worshipping a crazy doctrine that spoils everything you believed and fought for. You have blood on your hands. You’re THAT good at your job.

 So when they called you for a highly secret mission, you weren’t exactly surprised. Just disgusted by them, and mostly yourself. In the guts of what was called the Ideal Federal Saving Bank, you’re obediently following the chef himself : Alexander Pierce, to your next place of action. “I believe you have read your mission’s order, Y/N ?” “Yes Sir.” You said. “It did mention I will have the whole file today, though. I need to take a look at my patient so I can work in proper condition.” “Whatever you call it.” He said, opening the door of the clandestine laboratory in the now abandoned bank. If not for the machinery, we could still believe that those art deco walls filled with safes would still contain treasures of a lifetime for some people. Now there is nothing of value in here, not even the very skin of every PoS present. And you were including yourself. Making your way in the middle of the heavy set up, you slowly reach the pod in the middle, chewing secretly the interior of your cheeks. You know what’s inside, and it makes you want to puke. Mr Pierce continued “Doctor, as your mission was presented to you, your one on only assignment will be the physical and mostly the psychological perfect condition of the Winter Soldier, for the entire length of this mission on american soil.” Basically, be sure his brain is a fucking slushy. You reluctantly nodded and drew closer. “What’s his condition ?” At the top of your height, barely 5’3, you tiptoed to actually look at him by the window of the cryostasis chamber, since you never got this close of a look, not without the file and basically crumbs of info that were thrown at your face. They expected you to keep a dog on a leash, not making actual work on him, and it shows. White man, late 20s to early 30s, approx 5”7, long dark messy hair, not shaved, geez, it seemed like the poor guy was barely cleaned up before being pushed here.  Good physical condition, breathing was steady. You could see the steam of his breath on the glass. He may be clinically asleep, but she highly doubted he would be in his best shape. He looked uncomfortable, and tired. It wasn’t a restorative sleep. It was a prison. You couldn’t help but notice his prosthetic arm, even if that was the only thing you knew about him. It’s a fascinating work of science, that’s for sure. And even if transhumanism and biomechanical wasn’t your forte, you wanted to have a closer look, to satisfy your curiosity. One of the scientists watching his screen responded : “He’s gently defrozing, should be half conscious in 5 minutes. You may want to take a step down.” You ignore that, and lean your hand to your superior. “May I finally have what I have been asking for ?” With the most irritating smile, he gave you the Winter Soldier’s File and you quickly opened it to have a first look at all the fuss. Basic physical information, previous missions report, date of entering and ending of cryostasis, bare minimal medical record, notes by her predecessor, fucking trigger words to make him kneel like a 12 years old in front of any boysband... nothing about his previous life, his antics, his name, actual disorders, no name, nor adresses… You glaced a bit at Pierce and threw a polite smile. He knows what he’s doing, and he knows you know. You’re extremely good with very violent patients. You have endured rapists and murderers spiting in your face and swearing to bite your head off and fucking your skull. You were traumatized and you cried yourself to sleep, but the following day you did your job again. You’re just here to handle the worst of the worst. And you’re going to do it.

Or he’s going to break your neck and fuck your skull. You’re fine with that.

“Thank you it’s going to be very helpful.” As helpful as a band-aid on a wooden leg. “What’s this device ?” You point your chin to another machine not far away from it. One of the two men finishing installing it, raised his head to look at you. “A memory suppressing machine. Usually he doesn’t need it as much as he used to, but it’s mainly for safety. He must be prepared.” “He’s in a state where he willingly takes it. So don’t hesitate if he’s starting to be annoying, or excited. That can happen. But that mean you would probably have to work more with him to make him fully ready for his mission,” “Understood, thank you for clarification gentlemen.” You smiled and they smiled back. You’re a woman, so you’re used to it. Basically this shit was supposed to hack his brain, and it must be painful. “I would strongly recommend not using it at such a time. From what I quickly read he needs stability and time. Wiping everything out will more likely create more confusion.” You took a look at the file again and took it upon yourself to not have your eyes double in size and screaming at this bunch of idiots. “... and it does seem he’s using it a lot.” 

“We want the asset to be as focused as possible.”

“I understand that, but that's a temporary solution at best. He’s got a brain, not a harddrive. We still don’t know how it can store information, and if it can…” “The last time we used him was five years ago…” Started Pierce, with diplomaty, but also with a tone that wasn’t allowing any more debate on the matter. “And this mission is an absolute priority. The asset is strictly under cryostasis procedure as soon as he’s not needed anymore. The machine will be used if needed.” “I understand your point.” You absolute psychopath. “Then my request is simply to be here if it happens, and to be able to control the shocks. Also, I insist that he must be in perfect condition when you launch the procedure, I’ll personally make it happen and give you a green light.” “Thank you for your hard work.” He said, raising his hand, that you promptly and politely shook. You could feel the angry grasp. “I know you’re the perfect woman for this hard job. Your work is an inspiration for us all.” You wish you could end your life right here right now, instead of being told such atrocities. But you think about your mom and dad. At this time of year they start to prepare the pool for the summer, for the future neighborhood barbecues where they will brag to everyone about their incredible psychiatrist daughter who is doing secret stuff over sea to help save the world. You have to be strong. At least for them. At least for now.

“Hail Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra.” You responded, while your tongue feels like sandpaper.

  “Ok he’s starting to wake up…” Someone warns, as Pierce leaves the room, unbothered. The pod opens before your eyes, as the asset -you hate this term- is being roughly handled and carried away by two dudes to his seat. The one dangerously close to the memory suppressing machine. You squatted in front of him, the time for him to blink several times and look around him. Confused, but it’s not exactly his first rodeo either. His eyes are quickly focused on the first thing in front of him : you. He looked like he was trying to remember who you are, but quickly realized he didn’t know you. Two blue spears digging right into your soul. That’s making you a bit uncomfortable. The same weird feeling of unease you have when a cat is watching you taking a shower. “Hi.” You started, in english, even if he could be from italy you had no freaking clue. You guessed that he was probably slavic. But the file says he’s speaking more than ten languages. And it wasn’t specified when and how the hell did he learn that. “Can you hear me?” He took a few more seconds to look at you, probably the time to finish reading every embarrassing moment of your life, right into your eyes, like your drunk 18th birthday when you finished in your panties swimming in a city fountain, but he nodded eventually. You actually know this look. But it’s the first time you have a super soldier in front of you so it’s of a rare intensity. He’s dissecting you. Gathering information. His eyes moved slightly down : a recent scar on your neck. Right : an ex piercing on the top of your ear, now unusable. Down left : he just realized you’re slightly unbalanced so he knows you have a hip issue. And down right : he’s looking at your hand, you don’t really know what he saw here, maybe calculating how to break them ? You were literally a foot in a viper’s nest. Were you terrified ? Absolutely. Will that forbid you to do your job ? Nope. “Can you follow the light ?” You asked, moving slowly your phone’s lamp from left to right in front of his eyes. He did it without questioning. “Ok good.” You tried a smile, not really knowing why. If he was at least a tenth as clever as the file said he was, he perfectly know that you’re here to fuck him up. But you couldn’t help it. Poor dude. He was visibly more or less your age. He could have been a prince, or thief, a womanizer, or a priest, whatever, HYDRA took everything from him. From his free will, of his right to grow old, to his sleep. “Can you tell me your name ?” He frowned, perplexed. “Winter Soldier.” Shitty answer but at least he was fully aware, and his tongue was working properly. “Nice to meet you, I’m doctor Y/N. We’re here to work together in preparation of your next assignment. Do you understand ?” He nodded, unimpressed. “Good, can you get up ?” He did, so you did it too. And he realized that you were… very short. His eyes literally went up and slooowly down. That was a bit mean, actually. You carefully took a glance behind you, and your eyeroll could probably trigger an earthquake. “Can you all nice gentlemen let down a bit of their weapon ?” You said at the 6 dudes with rifles literally fixed on him, ready to shoot at the wrong twitch of muscle. No wonder he wasn’t talkative. “You won’t say that when he will break your neck with two fingers, ‘mam.”

“He’s pretty stable for now. Plus he’s not fully awake, let’s give him time before threatening him, shall we ?”

Nobody moved for ten seconds before one of them complied, since you didn’t move. The rest of the bunch reluctantly followed . You looked at your patient, hoping that that would have made him a bit more relaxed. Nope, he didn’t give a shit. He wasn't even looking at them. He was looking at you. You’re the mystery of this room to him. But you didn’t need extra vision to understand that Docs treated him like a guinea pig, so he was very understandably extra careful with you. Standing on his feet, all his muscles ready for action,  that’s the exact moment you realized how close you two were. Indeed, if he decided to, your jaw would fly across the room in a single move. You never had such a display of sheer raw strength, and you could feel the heat of his body radiate.

 “He needs a shower, and clothings.” You said, having a look at his 5 years old combat suit still reeking the smell of his sweat. It was intoxicating. They didn’t even allow him to clean himself. Poor dude was frozen in his own filth for the last five years. And you didn’t know why you took an even deeper breath. “And I’m talking about comfy workout clothes, no combat suit. Please escort him and handle him with care, before bringing him to my office.” You actually decided to be sure he wouldn’t be mistreated, by waiting outside the man’s bathrooms. You weren’t certain of how he could react, and you didn’t trust anyone here. If one of them decided to do a piss contest with your patient, it could end badly. So you put your hands in your pockets, looking at the two armed men waiting for the most dangerous assassin in the world to finish scrubbing himself with soap. The atmosphere was heavy and the silence was loud in itself. Even the sound of the shower was stressful and menacing.

 When the Soldier was escorted to your improvised office into the archive, directly linked to a storage room that will be your bedroom for the next weeks, you let him take a seat and promptly blocked the access to the room of the two escort members. “Thank you sirs, that will be all. Please wait here.” They look at you like you just told them you were dating their daughters. “Sorry Miss, but we can’t…” “Sorry Doctor , and I can’t work properly with weapons in my office.” You raised your hand, showing your device on your wrist. Something that would not only call for aid by a simple pressure, but could stun an opponent. Neither them nor you were stupid : it wouldn’t stop The Winter Soldier, maybe he would blink a second at most. But you really wanted to be alone with him. Was he dangerous ? Yes. Were you absolutely certain that you would leave this room alive if you closed this door to their face ? No. But it’s been three years since your priority wasn’t your survival anymore. So you forced a smile and slapped the door. They needed you more than you needed them, so they will obey.

“Douchebags.” You muttered to yourself while coming back to your desk. Your patient didn’t even move a muscle at your little argument. He wasn’t totally inexpressive actually, mostly terribly broody. His hair was still wet from the shower he took, wearing cargo pants, heavy boots and hoodies, generic clothes by HYDRA. You got those too, since you’re not allowed to carry anything personal for mission to mission. You had a tablet for books, music and movies, but that was it. You haven’t opened your shelves yet, but you know it’s full of ugly clothes and generic black panties of doom. 

You took a large inspiration, sat on your desk in front of him, and started : “Ok ‘Winter Soldier’... how are you doing ?” He didn’t even flinch. He was staring into your soul with his eyes lost into dark circles. Depriving someone of proper sleep is a basic rule for brainwash. “You enjoyed the shower ?” Nothing. You waited for a bit to see if he would finally respond. Ten seconds. Twenty. fourty. a minute. When he gathered that you were actually looking for an answer, visibly a first one for him, he finally gave you the courtesy of one. “Yes.” “Perfect.” You didn’t hide your slight smile and tiled your head. “I’ll be sure you’re in your best condition for your next mission. If something’s on your mind, I need to know about it. Nothing will get out of this room. Both of our priorities are your goal, and your condition is the key to success. Which makes you , my high top priority. Do you understand me ?” “Yes.”

“Ok so let’s get going.” You took another file, and took a picture out, ready to handle it to him. “Is the name : Nicholas Fury, ringing some bells to you?” “Yes.” He took it inside his titanium fingers and finally moved his piercing blue eyes away from you to look at the picture. “In two weeks, you’ll be in Washington DC. An entire squad will be deployed to assassinate him. Fury is the leader of the S.H.I.E.L.D, not a mere target. He will break free and fight back. That will be when you’ll show up.” He wasn’t looking at the picture anymore. One thing for sure : at least he was paying attention to you, and what you were saying. And that made you actually kind of proud of yourself. “That was part one. I’ll personally supervise your training with the VR machine and your physical health and condition. I really need you to communicate with me all the time about anything that could be in your mind. The more focused you are, the more Hydra’s plan will succeed.” And what’s that plan ? You have not a single clue. You were a cog in the machine, disposable. Not much more than him. “Do you understand ?” “I understand.” Oh shit, two words this time!

“Good.” You smiled. He didn’t. You move your hands closer to him, to take a grip on the picture. He opened his prosthetic hand, leaving you to take it back. Nothing in his gesture seems dangerous. Just normal, somehow cordial. “I must ask : are you in any pain right now ?” His eyes significantly get from right to left. He must probably wonder why you are asking him that. Did nobody ever ask him such basic questions like : ‘are you in pain?’ This man's sole purpose was to fight, that made no damn sense for you.

“Sir ?” You insisted for an answer, even if the ‘sir’ sounded absolutely ridiculous to your ears. You didn’t know his name, and you don’t feel comfortable calling him “Winter Soldier” , “Soldier”, “Sir De Winter”, “Hey you,he soviet assassin” so it will be “Sir” for now. “Sir are you in pain right now ?” “I’m not in pain.” A complete sentence, that’s progress. You breathed a bit better “Ok good.” You got up from your desk, which was honestly barely taller that him remaining on his chair. He didn’t let go of your eyes and you decided to make a bold move. For now, he was always being responsive so you slowly moved your hands toward him. To his prosthetic hand. “May I take a look, please ?” You glanced at each other, nobody made the first move. In complete silence, if it wasn’t for both of your breaths. You’re almost sure that it has been at least 5 minutes since you decided to speak again. Slowly, and gently, with no signs of confrontation in your body language or speech. “I will not do it until you comply. And you can refuse the contact.” He didn’t answer right away but he finally nodded. 

Slowly, you took his hand into yours, lifting it from his thigh where it was resting. At the beginning it was just taking a look. But he wasn’t making any moves, so you decided to take your observation a little further. You used your other hands to start to move each finger separately, taking a step closer to him. Finally, you made one  of your hands slowly sliding into the hoodie, to feel the muscles, the nerves, how it feels like a real arm. It was cold, but you felt it shudder to your touch. That was the line you decided to not take it further.

“Thank you, Soldier.” You said with a smile, taking away your hands from him. You moved behind your desk, opening your notepad to take a bunch of notes, breaking the contact with him. Just a second. But when you raised your eyes again, The Winter Soldier wasn’t in sight.  

 You shuddered and didn’t make a single move. If it wasn’t for your fingers grasping your desk. You did your best to have a steady respiration and not start to panic. Your throat dried up immediately. You took a deep breath and say : “Please, get back to your seat.” You slowly moved your head to look right back at him. He was standing. His eyes were black, taking loud deep breaths, fixing your behind your shoulder. Tall. Dangerous. You were terrorised. And he could smell it. He didn’t move so you stood up as well, and slowly faced him. You try to remain in total control of your body and not start to fidget. You could scream for help, but for whatever reason, you still had the feeling you could handle the situation. Trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t the first time a patient was disobedient. The only difference was that this one could crush your skull in a bat of an eye, 

 “Get back.” You said once again, bearing his piercing eyes, but he didn’t budge. So you took out your hand and put it on his chest. You felt like an ant against a mountain, but you pushed him a bit. “We will go nowhere this way.” You resumed trying to get a step closer, even if it will be creating a proximity that could be even more lethal to you. “So please, get back to…”

Something happened. It was obvious, and clear as day : you felt the bulge between his legs. Right above your navel. Hardening even more now that he could feel your body. You decided immediately to repress the shameful feeling of your very inside warming up and tickling you. “Winter Soldier.” You growled, angry but trying your best to remain as professional as you could. Of course, of fucking course. This guy was gorged on serum and hormones, quick, violent actions, and adrenaline. Pumping in his veins, burning 24/7. His body was on the edge all the time, and he just awoke from a dreamless slumber. He was a human, whatever all these idiots were thinking, not a freakin’ cyborg. When was the last time he saw a woman that he didn’t smash the head on a wall ? You even suspected that Pierce was counting on it. Nonetheless, you were alone in an office, literally glued with the world's most dangerous assassin, who was having a massive hard-on. Throbbing against you. You had your share of very awkward situations in your short life time. But nothing, nothing prepared you for this. And you had even less of an idea of what to do because he was doing nothing . He was feeling uncomfortable, that you could say, but he wasn’t really doing any moves to attack you, or even take you. He was standing here, with heavy breathing, his eyes still piercing you. And you slowly slided your gaze to his lips, finding the vision of his hard laboured breath strangely mesmerizing.

 Short of ideas, your reflexes took the best (or the worst) of you, and without you realizing it, your hand was around his neck. Your palm pressured on his glottis, and you clearly felt him swallow. As clearly as you felt him becoming even harder. Your breath was starting to shake, as you felt a not-so subtle chill coursing your spin. You drew his face and your face closer, as you finally moved forward, forcing him to move as well. Forcing was a strong word : the last time you hit a punching bag, you hurt yourself and sobbed for an hour. But for whatever reason, he did whatever you wanted. As if he was testing your resolve to make him obey. But there was nothing on his file about this behaviour. He tried to attack, kill and escape. Nothing about testing the limits of anyone.

“You. Will. Sit. Down!” you spat, through your teeth, forcing even more your grip around his neck, as your other hand was reaching for his hair. You pulled it, not too harshly, but you could definitely smell the musk, and the wetness of what stayed of his shower.

You did it. He was sitting down again. And your bodies departed for one another. For once he tried to escape your gaze, which was a strangely human reaction. You both managed to get your breath back, before you decided to call the guard to adjourn your observation.

As soon as the door closed behind them, you felt your legs giving up and you sat on the ground, back against your desk, a small wimp leaving your throat. You felt your eyes starting to wet, and your teeth rattled a bit so you tried to cuddle yourself to try to retake control on your body. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably as his intoxicating smell was still all around you. It was by far one of the most terrifying experiences you ever felt, and it was all clouded by the phantom feeling of his body against yours. You could still feel his gaze, his heat, his… well, his cock against your belly. You were still chilling, trying to repress whatever you were feeling at this instant. Because it wasn’t right, for you. Nor him. Everyone in this godforsaken organisation was treating him like a dog, just here to attack and do tricks, but you swore to yourself not to do the same. You will succeed at your mission, but you’ll do it from the crumbs of humanity and morality that HYDRA left you. You will do anything possible that the mission will be complete, the most painless possible for this broken man you just saw. Wait a second.

Painless .

You jumped on your feet, ignoring the numbness of your legs caused by the shock, and you ran at the door, screaming at the three men at the end of the corridor. “HEY !” The guards startled a bit and looked at you “I changed my mind. Bring the Winter Soldier back to my office.” They briefly exchange what seems to be a bunch of insults about you, but they comply to bring the Soldier back. Him ? He seemed absolutely unbothered. 

You closed the door behind the both of you, to the face of the guards yet again. He was standing here, showing his back as you slowly got back in front of him. Hands in your pocket, not really sure of what to do nor how to do it. He was looking at you, this same feeling of unease than before. And for reasons : a small glance confirmed that he was still rock hard. You didn’t make any move for a long time, until you finally put your hand on his chest. You felt his breathing becoming slightly quicker. “You’re not in pain.” You whispered, and he shook his head, negatively. “That was the wrong question. I’m sorry... “ Without you noticing, you had the palm of your hand on his cheek, scrubing lightly his stubble with your thumb as an apology. You breathed in, just couldn’t believe what you were about to say. “Do you need help ?” His expression didn’t change, but his eyes ? They became a bit brighter, you could even see a bit of relief when you saw him nod.

You swiftly move your other index on his pillowy lips as you still lower your voice. “They cannot hear us.” He nodded again as the only feeling of your finger as close to his mouth made him shiver with anticipation. He was literally dying of anything that could relieve him. And for what you understood, as your conversation continued, he trusted you with his body, to provide him with the sweet touch he has been totally deprived of. You slowly push away your index to gently slide your thumb between his lips, and he sighed with pleasure as he took it with an eagerness you would never have believed possible. The most deadly assassin in the world, the legendary Winter Soldier that everyone wishes he wasn’t real, was purring while sucking your finger. If you weren’t the shrink, you’ll be needing one immediately. You gently moved him to make him sit in his chair, he was way too tall for you to handle this with ease. “What about the showers?” You asked him, as you removed your thumb to make it gently slide on his lips, your other hand crawling across his chest to his pants. He swallowed before whispering. “I could but... “ his well built square jaws started to tense, with a visible revulsion. “... They can watch.” Disgusting. He couldn’t even close the damn door of the shower. “You’re safe here.” You said as your hand was finally reaching the bulge behind his Hydra cargo pants. You didn’t know what you expected but… it was way beyond that. He hissed a bit at the feeling of your hand as you started to touch it gently over the fabric. 

Now he was panting, looking at you as you were a single oasis after years of thirst in the desert. “Please…” You heard, barely audible when he was starting to lose it. “I got you, but you have to promise me to be good.” “Anything. Please…” 

And at your very surprise, you obliged him. Using your hand to plunge into his pants, while the other fast pressed into his mouth, muffing the immediate deep moan that escaped at the very second you touched his pulsing penis. He started panting even more, as he used his flesh arm to drive you onto him. His forehead against yours. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer and closer. Actually you let go of his -massive- erection a second to just drop out his pants, and his breach. You stopped a second, only to watch him begging you with his eyes, as you could feel his saliva at the palm of your hand while you muzzled him. It was it. You realized what kind of power you have over this man. He has been used and abused in every single way, but for once : someone’s finally doing what he wanted. You had his pleasure in your very hands, and for once in years, you could finally help someone. So you’re gonna do it, you’re going to make him feel good. Very good. “Good boy.” You muttered, without knowing where the hell that could come from, and you reached him again. Stroking your hands up and down his shaft, nourishing yourself over the vibration of his muffled moans against your hand. His eyes weren't leaving yours, if it wasn’t for when they seemed to roll to the sky. His vision periodically blackened by the waves of forbidden pleasure he was feeling over his body, who was barely him anymore. Your eyes were gorging on the vision of his handsome muscular man, surrendering himself to your touch, sweating, trembling and panting for you. You were saluted by an utterly satisfied noise the moment you decided to lean over his manhood to drip a large amount of your own saliva moist what was already on the edge of ruin. You rolled your thumb against his tip, massage his veins with just one finger… anything to make him feel something. Anything that wasn’t pure anger, hatred or apathy. You were inclined to believe the file saying that he was nothing but a perfectly built weapon for HYDRA to command. But now, when you tickled, teased and made him shiver, and you felt all his sincere gratitude, you were certain : There is a man in here. And he was finally feeling good .

But soon, it wasn’t enough anymore. Seeing his bare thighs, powerful, thicken by years of training and super soldier serum, tensed by all the nerves and muscles deliciously answering to your call, made your inside warmed up. Your core was aching, screaming for proximity and intimacy, and before you understood what happened, you sat astride on his left thigh. The soft flesh between your legs immediately responded with delight, making you shiver. Almost instantly, you felt his grip on your hip, of the cold metal digging into your flesh with despair. It was a super soldier, with the stamina of several dozen men, but it’s been so long, and you were touching him with perfection. You felt his head on your shoulder, and slowly you started licking his temple, tasting the very fruit of your hard work : his sweat. 

Galvanized by his intoxicating smell, and the thrusting he started giving to your hand, you started to move like a snake, rocking against his skin, looking for some pressure despite the fabric of your pants, mercilessly acting like a barrier of your own pleasure. You could get it off, but it was a limit that you forbid yourself to cross. But it’s true, as you were working him, you couldn’t stop yourself to think of how this would feel. Sliding inside you. You were so very short and fragile, and compared to your hand, his phallus was gigantic. He could ruin you, split you in half, using his bare hands and make you do anything. But the only person in control here, were you. And only you. You never felt anything like this before. And it’s highly probable than neither did he. You tried to vanish the thought, but the more you could feel his thigh between yours, the more you became obsessed.

 The more he was approaching, the more eager the soldier became. Both of his hands firmly gripped on your behind, almost certain that it will leave bruises, but you didn’t care at this very moment. His grunts against your hands became more and more intense, and you started to feel he was about to give in. In between your fingers, small drips of salivas were started to escape. You couldn’t give up your grip now, so you made it even more tight, drawing your lips closer to your hands, you whispered as your sore wrist fastened its path “I’m here for you. Give everything to me.”

 His panting became incontrolable, his eyes rolled out, his head dropped back, before he finally reached his peak. You felt the deep vibration of his ultimate cry on your hand, as your other hand was dripping of hot seed. You slowly removed your other hand from his face, and could contemplate your masterpiece :  the Soldier absolutely looked like a mess, with his red face, his eyes blinking furiously, covered with his own saliva. You left his leg, both your hands dripping of his bodily fluids. You used the one that was on his lips to pick his head and forced him to look at you. You ravished your vision of this man who absolutely surrendered to your good care, deeply satisfied with your attention. You cradled his face, and you took a large lick of his spit from his chin to his mouth. Where he leaned for a wet and warm kiss. You took a good taste of him, intoxicated by whatever pheromones he could diffuse around you.

 You look at him another few seconds, before recluandly moving away, to the bathroom where you not only washed your hands, but came back with a wet towel. You first cleaned with infinite care his face, and then his genitals, making sure he wouldn’t have any kind of unpleasant sensation as he had a big day ahead of him. You were his doctor and caretaker, and he had a mission to prepare. He seemed to respond well to the cleaning, not really expressive, but he made no sudden move. You could see him sighing with ease, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek in your palm again, when you were caressing him with the wet towel. You could still hear a loud satisfying purr. If you didn’t specifically ask him to kill someone less that an hour ago, you would actually find this absolutely adorable.

 You breathed in and out, making sure he was okay. “Are you feeling better ?...” He nodded, visibly relaxed, as he was closing his pants but not much more expressive than before. He stood up, in front of you, like nothing happened. “Yes.” But to your surprise he added a second later. “Thank you, doctor.” You smiled at him as you couldn’t keep yourself from making your knuckles caressing his cheek, and finally tracking the shape of his jaws. “Good boy.” You heard yourself say, wondering what the fuck was wrong with you.He didn’t react. All the shivers, purring,  sighing, and moans disappeared as soon as his pants closed. It was for the best, and you quickly took your hand back, clearing your throat. You call the guards. The Winter Soldier was fully ready for his mission preparation, and you asked them to give him some time to recover from… his cryostatic, before you would start the procedure.

 In the meantime, you need a shower. A long, hot, steamy, shower. 

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

can i have some alpha steve crumbs? i miss him 🥺

A/N- Let me just say I miss Alpha Steve too. Like that man ALWAYS LIVES IN MY MIND. 

(Image found on Google. 

Steve, Bucky, and Sam were all in the garage with one of the large logging trucks they needed desperately to fix. Now Sam was the better mechanic of the three, and he had the large hood pried up, elbow deep into the engine with Buckys help, while Steve was underneath the truck, fixing brake lines, changing oil. Doing some of the smaller stuff that needed to be taken care of.

It wasn't long though till Sam and Bucky started bickering back and forth between each other above Steve, who just opened the line to drain the oil, catching enough of a splash to get some on him, making him curse underneath the truck. 

“You know Bucky, if you just hold this back like I ask, I could squeeze my hand under here,” Sam growled, and Bucky snapped back. 

“And I told you, you are wasting your time. There's nothing wrong with that.” the White Wolf's growls were low and deep in warning, Steve could even hear it beyond the oil draining into the pan. This raised Sam’s voice at Bucky in a challenge. 

“And who here worked on the army trucks before coming here? I think I know what the hell I'm doing Bucky.”  Sam snapped his teeth as he yanked at a part, and when he did, it busted in his hand, some liquid running down the engine and landing near Steve, who yelped. “What the fuck!” Even the Alpha’s wolf snarled in aggravation at the two above them. When Steve pushed out, his eyes were snapping in frustration. 

Frustration at his two best friends bickering. The frustration that this truck they needed desperately still wasn't up and running. The Full Moon was in just a couple days. Not to mention he wanted this fixed before you went into your heat, which was close, he sensed it this morning when he woke up. He wasn't going to be able to continue working on it during that time. Not when you needed him. 

“You two cant cut the crap for two seconds?” The Alpha snarled as he grabbed a rag, running it over his face. The two wolves were still bristling at one another, and Steve snapped at them. “Get the fuck out of here and cool down. I'm not dealing with this shit today.” It was clear Bucky and Sam were feeling the effects of the full moon coming up, and the two males were not thinking clearly as they should. 

“We’re not-” Sam started and the Alpha turned his glare on him, making it clear he needed to leave, now. Bucky wasted no time leaving the garage in anger, Sam not far behind him. With a sigh, Steve lowered back to slide under the truck and finish what he was doing. 

You were heading yourself to the garage, when you saw first Bucky storm out, growling and rumbling under his breath. Your brows came together, and the Little Wolf perked up seeing the usually quiet wolf being so vocal. “Bucky what's wrong?” you ask as he brushes past you, but he doesn't pause, shooting over his shoulder. “Your mate kicked us out.” and he kept going. Sam popped out and he too was snapping in frustration, again so out of character for the usual calm good-natured wolf. He didn't even bother, the moment he saw you, he turned away and went sputtering around the back of the garage. 

You paused at the door, and listened now, unsure of what you will be walking into. You can hear Steve, sense his wolf is unsettled, just as yours is pacing back and forth in your mind. You can hear him sputtering to himself. But decide to take the chance, your palm pressing the door to open, and step inside. All you can see is long jean-clad legs from underneath the truck, the rest of him underneath. He immediately grows quiet though sensing you. 

Approaching him, your hand rests on his bent knee as you move down, peeking under the truck. “Room for one more?” you ask while moving to lay on your back and push yourself underneath till you’re looking up at the same mess of truck parts and lines that Steve is. “I ran into Bucky and Sam, they seem... tense.” 

Steve growled as he reattached the line draining the oil, sure to slide the tray well away from him so he didn't bump it. “They were bickering like idiots. I sent them away to cool off. They know we need to get this done by at least tomorrow. Hand me that wrench?” You felt around by your head till your hand circled around cool metal and you handed it to him. Steves brow furrowed in concentration for a moment till it all clicked together. 

“Think they are tense from the run coming up?” you ask, moving your hand to rub against your Alphas belly, feeling his own tensions keeping him on edge. He grunted his reply before dropping his hands back down, surveying his work. 

“Yes, this thing breaking down really did come at a bad time.” Steve’s features softened a bit, looking over at you know and a small smile crossed his face. “And how are you doing? I know it's about that time.” That time where you felt like you lost your mind cause you needed your Alpha so physically bad that your body ached. He wasn't wrong, it was creeping up. You could feel the flush of heat settling in your stomach already. 

“I'm fine, still a few days yet Alpha. Enough to finish this.” you winked at him, and pulled out from under the truck, Steve following behind you. You move to your feet and grab his hands to pull him into a stand, which once he did, he caught you to pin you against the door, nuzzling his nose against yours before claiming your lips, as well as your air for his own. 

“It's now my goal to finish this fucking thing so I'm not distracted with you,” he growled and you grinned against his lips. 

“Alpha, your gonna send me into heat early. Let's finish this.” You tug on his dirty shirt and move to face the engine, looking at the mess Sam and Bucky left. Reaching in you unscrewed the cap to the oil so it could be replaced. Steve turned up the radio on the bench, and joined you with the grade oil needed, getting ready to pour it back in. 

It was a couple hours before the two wolves came back to the garage, and they found you and Steve elbow deep in the engine, replacing the part Sam busted, both of you grease-covered and joking with each other. 

[cake-writes]

Compromise (Part Two)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Mom!Reader, Dad!Bucky, Ex-Relationship, Co-Parenting Drama, Angst, Fluff, Separation Anxiety

Summary: You didn’t want to trust him again, because every time you did, Bucky broke your heart just a little more. Deep down, though, you wanted to get along with him. You wanted to be amicable. You wanted your daughter to know her father. You’d always wanted that. It just required a compromise.

Part One / Master List

Bucky held you only until your tears subsided, and no longer.

There were clear boundaries between the two of you that would never be crossed again. The break-up was already hard enough with a months-long custody battle, so afterwards, once the two of you somehow managed to get along for the sake of your daughter – kind of – you sat down together and agreed in no uncertain terms that your relationship was well and truly over. Neither of you wanted to hurt Winnie by trying to rekindle something that wasn’t going to work.

That might have been the most difficult conversation you ever had, because even after everything, you still wanted to be with him. It just hurt too much, knowing how many milestones he’d missed during Winnie’s infancy; not to mention he wasn’t there to support you when you needed him most.

Bucky was only comforting you as the mother of his child. Nothing more. You knew that, but you desperately wished it was something more. Not only had he hurt you, but Winnie, too – and here you were two years later, still pining after him like a fool in love. Even now, some part of you was so caught up in the dream, the ideal, where the three of you might be a happy family one day – a normal family – and you always found yourself wanting more. More than he was willing to give.

He was bad for you. He was bad for Winnie.

You missed him anyway.

That may have been why you never tried to date again. You liked to blame it on the fact that you were too busy, but that was a lie. The proof was in the way your heart raced when he held you so close; the way your thoughts went haywire when he stroked your hair so soothingly; the way a rush of heat went straight to your core when you breathed in his familiar scent, spice and cedar and something so distinctly him that it drove you crazy.

By the time you got back to the kitchen, you weren’t a blubbering mess anymore. Instead, you were a nervous wreck, and that was much worse.

Your little girl was sitting comfortably on Natasha’s lap whilst the two of them chatted animatedly about some cartoon on Netflix. You didn’t recognize it, but then again, it had been a couple of years since you’d last used Netflix. After you moved away, you stopped using Bucky’s account out of respect for him, but you never got your own because the monthly fee could cover Winnie’s lunches for two weeks and you could pirate shows for free.

Of course, if you were really going to let Bucky buy you a car – a car, for fuck’s sake – then Netflix was chump change in comparison.

“Winnie, baby,” you said cheerfully, plopping down on the sofa next to Natasha, “How would you like to stay here with Daddy for the weekend?”

Winnie’s big blue eyes went wide as saucers, and you couldn’t help but be reminded of Bucky. The older she got, the more looked like him. “I can stay with Daddy?”

“You’re a big girl now,” you reminded her, using your thumb to wipe away some stray crumbs from her chin. “It’s up to you, sweetpea.”  

She blinked a few times – confused, but no less excited. “I wanna stay! Can I stay, Daddy? Please?”

Bucky just laughed and squatted down in front of her to ruffle her hair. “Of course you can. Wanna see your room, princess?”

At that, she quickly scrambled off of Natasha’s lap and bounced on the balls of her feet, nodding vigorously. Even at full height, she was still tiny in comparison to Bucky’s crouching form and you couldn’t help but laugh a little – especially when he held out his large hand to her and she took it without hesitation.

“Ah, ah,” you chided. “What do you say to Auntie Nat?”

Winnie beamed at Natasha and offered a rehearsed, “Thank you for lunch, Auntie Nat!”

Natasha smiled back at her. “You’re welcome, Winnie.”

As Bucky led her from the room, your worries started to pool in the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t ever spent a full night away from her, and neither had she from you. You were afraid to let her go – quite possibly more for yourself than for her. Not that you were leaving yet, but the anxiety crept in anyway.

“Don’t worry, Mama,” Natasha teased, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “It’s just one night. Baby steps.”

She’d always been able to read you like a book. You and Natasha had been friends since you first started seeing Bucky, and although that relationship was over, you kept in touch with her all the same. It was a shame that Winnie didn’t get to see her very often, because she was Winnie’s godmother and you knew she cared about your daughter just as much as you did.

She’d be safe here. You were sure of it.

“Yeah,” you echoed, despite your worries. “It’ll be fine.”

It was very much not fine.

As thrilled as Winnie was about her new room, and that she’d be staying with Bucky overnight, she absolutely did not like that you were leaving. It wasn’t until you started to say your goodbyes in the foyer that she finally put two and two together and threw a temper tantrum.

“Come on, baby,” you said exasperatedly, wincing as her little fingernails dug into the thin material of your leggings. You’d definitely find some tiny claw marks there later.

She clung to your leg even tighter and whined, “No! Stay!”

“No, Winnie, Daddy wants to spend some time with you,” you told her gently, kneeling down in front of her to talk to her face-to-face. “He’s missed you lots!”

She pouted and threw her arms around your neck, burying her teary, snotty face in your shoulder – no doubt ruining your shirt, but you were entirely too used to the mess by now. “You can’t go! Not without Winnie!”

You sighed and stroked her back, looking up at Bucky apologetically. She was normally much more well-behaved than this, but you should have expected that she’d have a meltdown. She hadn’t yet spent a night without you, but she’d spent plenty without him. It was unfamiliar.

That said, the casual shrug he offered you took you by surprise. It didn’t seem to bother him that she was so dependent on you. Rather, there was a certain softness in those gorgeous blue eyes of his that made your heart skip a beat.

“Winnie,” you reprimanded gently, “Aren’t you excited for your new room? Think of all those stuffed animals needing cuddles! Daddy will even read you your favourite bedtime story, won’t he?”

“That’s right, princess,” Bucky chimed in, crouching down next to the two of you. “I’ll even tuck you in with Mr. Squiggles.”

You and Bucky had already discussed that you’d be back shortly with some of Winnie’s things – namely a couple changes of clothes and her dear old Mr. Squiggles, the stuffed unicorn she’d had since birth. She wouldn’t sleep without him. Of course, because saying goodbye had become such an ordeal, you’d probably have to ask Natasha to play courier.

Winnie slowly pulled back just enough to look between you and Bucky, like she was trying to decide. The stuffed animals were a huge selling point, for sure, but you could tell that Mr. Squiggles was what finally sold her on the idea.

“Promise?” she finally asked, lower lip wobbling.

Bucky held out his pinky to her. “Promise.”

She linked hers with his and smiled back, sniffling. You used a tissue to wipe away her tears and got back to your feet, stooping to collect your purse. Then, as you slung your purse over your shoulder, Bucky hoisted Winnie up into his arms.

When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and timid, a stark contrast to her earlier behaviour. “Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetpea?”

“Love you,” she said, making grabby hands for you. This time, she wanted a hug.

Well, now you wanted to cry, too.

“Mommy loves you more than anything in the whole wide world,” you told her, voice breaking just a little before you gave her small body a gentle squeeze. Then you quickly pulled back and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” she said happily, waving along with Bucky as you made your way out the double glass doors. You waved back and blew her kisses until you reached the steps, where you finally turned around despite how hard it was to leave her behind.

Somehow, you managed not to cry until you made it to your car.

It was your first Saturday night alone in two years, and you were wasting it. Not that you cared.

You worried your lower lip in between your teeth, staring blankly at your cell phone. On the screen was a long chain of text messages with Bucky: your primary means of communication, short and succinct. It was easier not to get into an argument that way.

He’d sent through his Netflix info a couple hours ago, because Winnie really seemed to enjoy the cartoon she was watching and she wanted to continue it after she got home with you. You didn’t ask for it, and while normally you’d have been offended, you were entering a new phase of your – well, relationship, if you could even call it that. Your co-parenting relationship. So you thanked him, like a grown-up.

Kind of hard not to turn over a new leaf when your ex planned to take you car shopping.

As if on cue, you received another text from him. This one was entirely unprovoked.

Bucky, 8:32pm I know you’re worrying, but we’re doing just fine over here. See?

Attached was a selfie of him and Winnie laying together on her new bed, with matching cheshire grins on their faces. In her arms was Mr. Squiggles, while in Bucky’s free hand – the vibranium one – was her favourite bedtime book.

Right. It was eight-thirty, now. Winnie’s bedtime.

She was going to bed without you.

The harmless chewing of your lower lip turned to incessant gnawing, and with it came a set of fingernails bitten down to the quick. Of course you were worried. You wouldn’t be able to check on her in the middle of the night to make sure she was still doing okay. You wouldn’t be able to watch her sleep. She wasn’t here with you like she usually was.

Then your phone dinged with another text.

Bucky, 8:36pm You aren’t biting your nails, are you?

That made you frown. You weren’t together all that long, but somehow, he knew you like the back of his own hand. Metal or flesh, it didn’t matter, because he was entirely too observant either way.

You typed out a quick response and hit send, before you tossed your phone down on the couch, having every intention of ignoring it for the rest of the night.

You, 8:37pm No.

 In an attempt to distract yourself, you finally logged into Bucky’s Netflix account, only to freeze up at what you saw. He still had three profiles set up: one for each of you. Apparently, he’d never deleted yours or Winnie’s from the time you were together.

Why?

It was kind of nostalgic to go through your profile. The same movies and TV shows were saved in your ‘to watch’ list that you’d never gotten around to seeing, even two years after the fact. Not that it mattered. All you wanted to know was why he’d kept it. Maybe he didn’t use it much anymore.

Feeling nosy, you switched profiles and slowly made your way through his. No, he definitely still used it regularly. Instead of the action movies you expected to see in his history, however, there were mostly documentaries, the occasional rom-com, and even a couple of TV shows you’d recommended to him once. That surprised you. Then again, you knew that binging on content took his mind off of the things he didn’t want to think about. That, at least, hadn’t changed.

His response to your text was delayed, likely because he was reading Winnie to sleep – but the second your phone dinged again, you were all over it like a lovesick teenager.

 Bucky, 8:55pm It’s not good to lie, sweetheart.

 At that, you rolled your eyes. No matter how many times you told him not to call you that, he still did. Secretly, you loved it, but at the same time it was a harsh reminder that you weren’t his sweetheart anymore. Not really. You were the mother of his child. That was all.

You, 8:56pm Who says I’m lying? And don’t call me that.

 Bucky, 8:56pm Me. And I like calling you that.

 With a huff, you fired back an annoyed response.

 You, 8:57pm Goodnight, Bucky.

His little chat bubble popped up again almost instantly, the one that let you know he was typing a response, but it just sat there for a minute or two unchanged. Just when you gave up and set your phone back down, it dinged again.

Bucky, 8:59pm See you tomorrow.

Interlude #1

[fanfictionaries]

Better Than the Movies Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X female reader

Summary: After a string of bad dates and finally getting stood up, the reader is fed up with men and dating. The team finds her sulking as she watches The Wedding Date and are surprised when she exclaims that the kind of passion you see in movies just does not exist. Bucky is prepared to prove to her it does.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Swearing, smut, NSFW/18+ only

Author’s Note: This is my first fic, so PLEASE let me know what you think!

****

“Boo!” you yelled at the television, throwing popcorn across the living room from your place on the large expansive white leather couch.

“Whoa, what’s going on here mama?” came Sam’s voice from the entryway near the kitchen. He took in the sight of you before him – wrapped in a large blanket, your signature grey sweats visible from where your feet poked out beside you, propped on the arm of the couch. You leaned on a pile of pillows to your right where a giant bowl of popcorn sat in front of you. Your hair was thrown up in a messy pile on your head and if it wasn’t for the perfectly done full face of makeup, one would have thought you had just rolled out of bed.

“Men suck and these movies are lies!” you yelled again, throwing another fist full of popcorn towards the flat screen where Dermot Mulroney was currently giving furtive glances towards Debra Messing’s character.

“So, I take it the date didn’t go well…” Natasha commented, walking into the living room with Wanda.

“He’d have to show up for it to even go badly,” you mumbled before jamming a fist full of popcorn into your mouth, smearing a bit of red lipstick on your chin.

“Gee, who wouldn’t want to go out with you? You’re such a lady,” Nat commented, picking a piece of popcorn out of your hair as she whisked by you to sit on the other end of the couch. You glared daggers in her direction before shoving your mouth full of popcorn again.

“I’m sorry Y/N. He didn’t call or text or anything?” Wanda asked, shooting you a sympathetic look. You shook your head in response.

“I’m still lost as to why all of this is the movie’s fault,” Sam commented, coming over to steal a hand full of popcorn from the bowl and sitting down next to Natasha.

“Because this shit doesn’t happen in real life! It promotes a false narrative.”

“Ooooo I love this movie,” said Steve rounding the corner into the room. Everyone looked at him in surprise as he sat down next to Sam. Bucky followed, taking the last available seat next to you.

“Careful Steve, we’re not allowed to like this movie right now,” Wanda spoke up from where she leaned against the wall.

“Why?” Steve asked.

“Wait, how do you know The Wedding Date? It’s a chick movie!” Sam looked at Steve curiously.

“It was on my list. Y/N suggested it actually.”

“How do you know The Wedding Date Sam?” Nat asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” Sam responded, cross his arms and looking back up at the screen.

“I still don’t understand why we’re not allowed to like the movie. I thought you liked this move Y/N,” said Steve, leaning back on the couch.

“Y/N’s date stood her up tonight,” Nat stated bluntly.

“Seriously?” Steve asked, looking over at Y/N with concern, “You want me to go teach this guy some manners?”

“Calm down Captain America, he’s not worth it. Besides, in a way he did me a favor. Him and all the horrible dates I’ve been having lately actually. It’s just opened my eyes to reality. Stuff like this just doesn’t happen!” you huffed pointing to the screen, “I mean look at that!”

Everyone turned to look at the screen where Dermot had Debra pushed up against a car. She breathed heavily as he whispered sensual nothings to her.

“That kind of raw physical connection just doesn’t happen. Look at her! She’s literally putty in his hands. You can’t tell me you’ve ever genuinely felt like that,” you turned to Nat and Wanda for support, but they both gave you apologetic looks.

“Sounds like you’ve just never felt that before doll,” Bucky spoke up, stretching an arm across the couch behind you.

“Whatever. Let’s just drop it!” you exclaimed exhaustively, “I’m going to sit here and have my pity party. If you don’t want to join in on it, then I suggest you leave me to be bitter in peace for the night.”

Everyone shared furtive glances around the room, looking between each other and you before making their decisions.

Wanda announced her decision first, “I’m going to go see what Vis is up to.”

“Yea, Bruce mentioned earlier that he wanted to talk to me about something in the lab once I got back from dinner,” Natasha added, picking up the obvious vibe that you wanted to be alone. She left the room after Wanda, heading towards the elevator.

“We should probably head to bed Sam; we have an early training session,” said Steve. Sam nodded and stood, but turned to Bucky before he left the room, “You coming, Robocop?”

Bucky rolled his eyes at the nickname but kept a friendly smile on his face, “Nah, I think I’ll stay here for a bit. I actually haven’t seen this one.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, watching the characters on screen. It was a comfortable silence that you’d really only ever been able to find with Bucky. When you’d first arrived at the compound it had taken a while for him to warm up to you. Everyone had assured you that he was just a quiet guy and so you’d been patient, biding your time and letting him come to you. You were happy to find that after a few months, many grueling trainings sessions, a couple of missions, and many group meals together you’d grown to be good friends. He often joined you in the mornings in the kitchen after training, you on your computer and him reading the paper. You’d find him in the afternoons in his room and drag him outside to take long walks with you. Sometimes you’d talk for hours as you walked through the thick forest surrounding the compound and sometimes you wouldn’t say anything at all. He had truly become one of your best friends.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, breaking the silence. You sighed and turned your head, looking up at the strong jawed man sitting next to you. He looked down at you with kind eyes as he relaxed into the white leather.

“Yea, or I will be. Just…frustrated I guess.”

Bucky chuckled and reached out with his right hand to wipe the smeared red lipstick under your bottom lip, “In more than one way apparently.”

“Shut up,” you pushed him away, but were unable to hide the smile on your face.

“Seriously though, you’ve never had a guy make you feel that way before?” he nodded towards the TV.

You shook your head.

“Has a guy ever even made you…ya know?” he asked sheepishly, lifting his metal arm briefly to scratch the back of his neck.

Your eyes went wide, and you sat up a little straighter, “Wow, are we really talking about this? Has our friendship reached that level already?”

“Never mind, sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no,” you sat up fully, swinging your legs from the arm of the couch and placing the giant bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of you, “It’s fine. We can talk about this; I just need to feel a little less tragic before we have this conversation.” You stood, unwrapping yourself from the giant comforter, and took your hair out from its bun before shaking your hair out like a wet dog. Once you’d managed to brush all the popcorn crumbs off of your tank top and sweats, doing a little jig in the process that made Bucky laugh, you plopped back down on the couch cross-legged.

“There. All ready.”

“Wait, not quite,” said Bucky, reaching out and brushing a piece of hair out of your face, “There we go. Perfect.” Your heart unexpectedly skipped a beat at how resolutely he spoke the word. Perfect.

“Thanks,” you said, shaking off the weird sensation coursing through your body.

“So…has a guy ever gotten you off?”

“Yes, but…”

“But?”

You twisted your hands in your lap, suddenly feeling embarrassed, “It’s always felt so impersonal in a way. It’s never been—”

“Passionate? All-consuming?”

“Exactly,” you exhaled, feeling relieved in a way that he understood what you were trying to say instead of just looking at you like you were an alien.

The weight of his metal arm fell on your shoulder in a comforting touch, the cool metal fingers touching your bare shoulder and contrasting with your warm skin. The sensation sent shivers down your spine. You did your best not to let it show, but when you looked back up at Bucky, he was staring at you in a way he never had before. His gaze heavy, dark, hungry.

He spoke again, his words blunt and matter of fact, almost harsh, “Sounds to me like you’ve never had a guy take the time to thoroughly seduce you.”

You laughed nervously, looking down at your hands, suddenly finding yourself unable to look at the clear blue eyes staring into you.

“What?” Bucky laughed playfully with you, reaching out and lifting your chin. He grinned at you, the small expression you had come to associate with the playful side of Bucky.

“Seduce me Buck? You really think I’m the type that needs seducing?” you asked, finding the concept slightly ridiculous. You weren’t some spry virgin that needed to be coerced into sex. Nor were you ever in a position to play hard to get.

Bucky breathed in deep, narrowing his gaze as his eyes assessed you, scanning your face as if he was looking for some type of answer there. The hand on your shoulder had traveled to the curve of your neck, his metal thumb running back and forth over the sensitive skin. You tried not to think about how good it felt, or how your sex twitched at the mere implication of the intimate touch.

“I think,” his voice was lower, huskier, “that a dame as pretty as you,” the hand traveled up and back, threading into the hair at the nape of your neck, “deserves to be seduced every single time.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, the sensation of fingers ever so lightly running through your hair a weak spot for you, and Bucky was doing such a good job at it.

“Men should drop to their knees for you,” Bucky’s voice was closer, a whisper in your ear. You gasped lightly; you hadn’t felt him lean in. “They should worship your body like it’s their only salvation.”

“Bucky,” you whispered, finding your voice. You could feel it, heat coursing through your body. Your nipples tingled and your clit throbbed as he ran his nose collarbone to jawline, breathing deeply. You didn’t know where this was going. You didn’t know what he was doing. But you knew that at this moment you felt a way you had never thought possible.

“They should savor you,” his lips fell lightly on your neck, his breath hot on your skin, “taste you,” his tongue peaked out, licking the flesh below, “devour you like you’re the most delicious thing they’ve ever tasted.”

A gasp escaped your throat at his words and the feel of his tongue on your neck. His fingers tightened, gripping the hair near your scalp and pulling your head backwards. Your eyes opened to find Bucky leaning over you. He looked at you like a starved man gazing upon his first meal in weeks. You were mesmerized, unable to look away from him. The dark brown hair that fell around his face, the thick scruff along his cheeks, the sharp cheek bones and straight nose, the lush pink lips, he was gorgeous.

“I can do that doll. I can do all of that. Would you want that Y/N?”

Did you? This was one of your best friends. If you said yes, you’d be possibly ruining something you’d spent so long to build. That being said, you’d never seen Bucky like this before. You’d never thought about him this way. You sure as hell never considered that he’d thought about you this way. And now that he was in front of you offering something you didn’t even think existed, you felt like you couldn’t turn it away. You nodded, breathing heavily. Bucky placed his other hand on your knee, rubbing up and down your thigh. His grip was firm but controlled, like he was fighting against himself to keep some kind of boundary.

“You’re going to have to use your words doll. I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” you answered, surprised by just how needy your voice sounded.

Before you knew what was happening, Bucky’s lips were on yours and the hand that had been caressing your thigh, hooked behind your knee and hauled you onto his lap. His lips were soft as he kissed you slowly with a heat that sent your heart racing. Your tongues melted into each other in a devilish embrace, the taste of him unlike anything you’d ever had before. Kissing someone had never been like this, it was like he was in your head. Like he knew exactly what you needed and wanted at every moment.

His hands stayed firm and steady, one still tangled in your hair, controlling the angle and depth of the kiss; the other placed confidently on your lower back, teasing the thin strip of exposed skin with his fingertips. Your hands, however, couldn’t stay still if you tried. They traveled all over his body, the need to touch and feel every inch of him so strong you felt as though you might combust if you stopped. Your heart beat wildly, the blood pulsing, coursing through your body. The thrumming consumed you, filling your ears and clouding your mind with nothing but it and the equal rhythm at your clit. You felt out of body, clawing at Bucky’s biceps and chest, until your hands found purchase on his t-shirt. Gripping the material, you tugged.

“Now, now,” Bucky pulled your head back, breaking the kiss, “Last time I checked, I was the one seducing you.”

The sudden jerk on your hair turned you on more than you were comfortable to admit. Bucky appraised you, his icy blue eyes scanning you as your chest heaved up and down. A glint appeared in his eyes as he took his sweet time looking at you, the seconds ticking by, driving you absolutely mad. Then as if he were testing a theory, his metal fingers tightened even more in your hair as he pulled your head back further causing your spine to arch. Your hands moved behind you, to find stability from his thick, muscular thighs. You let slip a desperate and wonton moan at the sweet sting of your scalp.

“Mmmmm, you like that doll?” asked Bucky, pulling a bit more.

You whimpered, attempting to nod your head as best you could. Bucky hummed again in approval before lowering the hand at your back under the waistband of your sweats. His large hand gripped your panty covered ass, pressing you down till your center made contact with his large bulge. Without need for much instruction from him, your hips began to rock against him earning you a strangled groan. It was the first semblance of lost control you’d heard from him and the sound sent jolts of electricity straight to your clit. You pressed down harder, hoping to hear the heady, erotic sound again. Bucky disentangled his fingers from your hair and slid his hand down to rest at your sternum. Then roughly, your tank top was pulled down, exposing your breasts to the man before you. You gasped as the cool air pebbled your nipples and again even louder when Bucky’s mouth descended on you. He lavished your left nipple with his tongue and lips before taking it between his teeth and tugging gently. You cried out, the sweet burn sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

You felt weak. Your arms buckled behind you, but Bucky was quick to catch you, pulling you forward. You clung to the back of his head as he continued his assault on your chest, licking and sucking, and nipping at the sensitive flesh. The roughness of his stubble rubbed your flesh raw in the sweetest way as he took his time with you. He brought his hands back to your hips, guiding them once more against him. Slowly, the added friction against your center combined with the pleasure coursing through you from the attention given at your chest started to build and build. It wasn’t until you were almost at the crest of release, that you realized just how far gone you were.

“That’s it, baby,” said Bucky, pulling away from your breasts and gazing up at you on his lap. His eyes drinking you in as you rocked back and forth on his lap, “You gonna cum for me?”

Were you? You’d never been able to cum from something so simple before, but you’d also never been so turned on from something so simple as well.

“Sure, you can,” he said, sensing your hesitation, “You know you want to. That sweet little pussy is so desperate to cum, you’d cum just from grinding on my dick.”

His words made your head spin, pushing you even further towards your release. It was going to happen, oh my god, you couldn’t believe it. This man was going to make you cum from a little dry humping and foreplay.

“Hey, look at me,” Bucky’s voice pulled you back and out of your head. Focusing your eyes, you locked gazes with the man before you. He smiled, mouth hung open as he breathed heavily with you, “There she is.”

You didn’t dare look away, as your hips sped up. Close, you were so close. You just needed something—something to push you over the edge. As if sensing your desperation, Bucky, never breaking eye contact, brought a hand back up to your right breast. His thumb and forefinger clamped around your nipple, rolling and pinching it in the most delicious way possible. Your moan stuttered in your throat. God that was good.

“That’s it doll, you’re doing so good. I know you wanna’ cum, so why don’t you cum? Come on baby, you can do it. Be a good girl for me and cum,” Bucky continued to ramble and chant as your breathing picked up speed. You were rising. Higher and higher until finally you were flying. Your orgasm crash through you, but your never looked away from the man in front of you. It was as if you were afraid you’d lose the sensation completely if you looked away from those beautiful eyes and handsome face. Bucky watched you with smug satisfaction as you came, taking his lower lip between his teeth as he pressed your hips firmly down on him. You fell forward, crashing against the plains of his chest as you tried to process what had just happened. Bucky held you, running his hands up and down your back as you tried to get your breathing back to normal.

“So,” Bucky’s voice broke the comfortable silence, “how was that?”

You chuckled in giddy euphoria before nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, “Better than the movies.”

[thefanfictionadoposts-blog]

Better Than The Movies Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X female reader 

Summary: After a string of bad dates and finally getting stood up, the reader is fed up with men and dating. The team finds her sulking as she watches The Wedding Date and are surprised when she exclaims that the kind of passion you see in movies just does not exist. Bucky is prepared to prove to her it does. 

Words: 3k

Warnings: Swearing, smut, NSFW/18+ only

Author’s Note: This is my first fic, so PLEASE let me know what you think! 

****

“Boo!” you yelled at the television, throwing popcorn across the living room from your place on the large expansive white leather couch.

“Whoa, what’s going on here mama?” came Sam’s voice from the entryway near the kitchen. He took in the sight of you before him – wrapped in a large blanket, your signature grey sweats visible from where your feet poked out beside you, propped on the arm of the couch. You leaned on a pile of pillows to your right where a giant bowl of popcorn sat in front of you. Your hair was thrown up in a messy pile on your head and if it wasn’t for the perfectly done full face of makeup, one would have thought you had just rolled out of bed.

“Men suck and these movies are lies!” you yelled again, throwing another fist full of popcorn towards the flat screen where Dermot Mulroney was currently giving furtive glances towards Debra Messing’s character.

“So, I take it the date didn’t go well…” Natasha commented, walking into the living room with Wanda.

“He’d have to show up for it to even go badly,” you mumbled before jamming a fist full of popcorn into your mouth, smearing a bit of red lipstick on your chin.

“Gee, who wouldn’t want to go out with you? You’re such a lady,” Nat commented, picking a piece of popcorn out of your hair as she whisked by you to sit on the other end of the couch. You glared daggers in her direction before shoving your mouth full of popcorn again.

“I’m sorry Y/N. He didn’t call or text or anything?” Wanda asked, shooting you a sympathetic look. You shook your head in response.

“I’m still lost as to why all of this is the movie’s fault,” Sam commented, coming over to steal a hand full of popcorn from the bowl and sitting down next to Natasha.

“Because this shit doesn’t happen in real life! It promotes a false narrative.”

“Ooooo I love this movie,” said Steve rounding the corner into the room. Everyone looked at him in surprise as he sat down next to Sam. Bucky followed, taking the last available seat next to you.

“Careful Steve, we’re not allowed to like this movie right now,” Wanda spoke up from where she leaned against the wall.

“Why?” Steve asked.

“Wait, how do you know The Wedding Date? It’s a chick movie!” Sam looked at Steve curiously.

“It was on my list. Y/N suggested it actually.”

“How do you know The Wedding Date Sam?” Nat asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” Sam responded, cross his arms and looking back up at the screen.

“I still don’t understand why we’re not allowed to like the movie. I thought you liked this move Y/N,” said Steve, leaning back on the couch.

“Y/N’s date stood her up tonight,” Nat stated bluntly.

“Seriously?” Steve asked, looking over at Y/N with concern, “You want me to go teach this guy some manners?”

“Calm down Captain America, he’s not worth it. Besides, in a way he did me a favor. Him and all the horrible dates I’ve been having lately actually. It’s just opened my eyes to reality. Stuff like this just doesn’t happen!” you huffed pointing to the screen, “I mean look at that!”

Everyone turned to look at the screen where Dermot had Debra pushed up against a car. She breathed heavily as he whispered sensual nothings to her.

“That kind of raw physical connection just doesn’t happen. Look at her! She’s literally putty in his hands. You can’t tell me you’ve ever genuinely felt like that,” you turned to Nat and Wanda for support, but they both gave you apologetic looks.

“Sounds like you’ve just never felt that before doll,” Bucky spoke up, stretching an arm across the couch behind you.

“Whatever. Let’s just drop it!” you exclaimed exhaustively, “I’m going to sit here and have my pity party. If you don’t want to join in on it, then I suggest you leave me to be bitter in peace for the night.”

Everyone shared furtive glances around the room, looking between each other and you before making their decisions.

Wanda announced her decision first, “I’m going to go see what Vis is up to.”

“Yea, Bruce mentioned earlier that he wanted to talk to me about something in the lab once I got back from dinner,” Natasha added, picking up the obvious vibe that you wanted to be alone. She left the room after Wanda, heading towards the elevator.

“We should probably head to bed Sam; we have an early training session,” said Steve. Sam nodded and stood, but turned to Bucky before he left the room, “You coming, Robocop?”

Bucky rolled his eyes at the nickname but kept a friendly smile on his face, “Nah, I think I’ll stay here for a bit. I actually haven’t seen this one.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, watching the characters on screen. It was a comfortable silence that you’d really only ever been able to find with Bucky. When you’d first arrived at the compound it had taken a while for him to warm up to you. Everyone had assured you that he was just a quiet guy and so you’d been patient, biding your time and letting him come to you. You were happy to find that after a few months, many grueling trainings sessions, a couple of missions, and many group meals together you’d grown to be good friends. He often joined you in the mornings in the kitchen after training, you on your computer and him reading the paper. You’d find him in the afternoons in his room and drag him outside to take long walks with you. Sometimes you’d talk for hours as you walked through the thick forest surrounding the compound and sometimes you wouldn’t say anything at all. He had truly become one of your best friends.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, breaking the silence. You sighed and turned your head, looking up at the strong jawed man sitting next to you. He looked down at you with kind eyes as he relaxed into the white leather.

“Yea, or I will be. Just…frustrated I guess.”

Bucky chuckled and reached out with his right hand to wipe the smeared red lipstick under your bottom lip, “In more than one way apparently.”

“Shut up,” you pushed him away, but were unable to hide the smile on your face.

“Seriously though, you’ve never had a guy make you feel that way before?” he nodded towards the TV.

You shook your head.

“Has a guy ever even made you…ya know?” he asked sheepishly, lifting his metal arm briefly to scratch the back of his neck.

Your eyes went wide, and you sat up a little straighter, “Wow, are we really talking about this? Has our friendship reached that level already?”

“Never mind, sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no,” you sat up fully, swinging your legs from the arm of the couch and placing the giant bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of you, “It’s fine. We can talk about this; I just need to feel a little less tragic before we have this conversation.” You stood, unwrapping yourself from the giant comforter, and took your hair out from its bun before shaking your hair out like a wet dog. Once you’d managed to brush all the popcorn crumbs off of your tank top and sweats, doing a little jig in the process that made Bucky laugh, you plopped back down on the couch cross-legged.

“There. All ready.”

“Wait, not quite,” said Bucky, reaching out and brushing a piece of hair out of your face, “There we go. Perfect.” Your heart unexpectedly skipped a beat at how resolutely he spoke the word. Perfect.

“Thanks,” you said, shaking off the weird sensation coursing through your body.

“So…has a guy ever gotten you off?”

“Yes, but…”

“But?”

You twisted your hands in your lap, suddenly feeling embarrassed, “It’s always felt so impersonal in a way. It’s never been—”

“Passionate? All-consuming?”

“Exactly,” you exhaled, feeling relieved in a way that he understood what you were trying to say instead of just looking at you like you were an alien.

The weight of his metal arm fell on your shoulder in a comforting touch, the cool metal fingers touching your bare shoulder and contrasting with your warm skin. The sensation sent shivers down your spine. You did your best not to let it show, but when you looked back up at Bucky, he was staring at you in a way he never had before. His gaze heavy, dark, hungry.

He spoke again, his words blunt and matter of fact, almost harsh, “Sounds to me like you’ve never had a guy take the time to thoroughly seduce you.”

You laughed nervously, looking down at your hands, suddenly finding yourself unable to look at the clear blue eyes staring into you.

“What?” Bucky laughed playfully with you, reaching out and lifting your chin. He grinned at you, the small expression you had come to associate with the playful side of Bucky.

“Seduce me Buck? You really think I’m the type that needs seducing?” you asked, finding the concept slightly ridiculous. You weren’t some spry virgin that needed to be coerced into sex. Nor were you ever in a position to play hard to get.

Bucky breathed in deep, narrowing his gaze as his eyes assessed you, scanning your face as if he was looking for some type of answer there. The hand on your shoulder had traveled to the curve of your neck, his metal thumb running back and forth over the sensitive skin. You tried not to think about how good it felt, or how your sex twitched at the mere implication of the intimate touch.

“I think,” his voice was lower, huskier, “that a dame as pretty as you,” the hand traveled up and back, threading into the hair at the nape of your neck, “deserves to be seduced every single time.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, the sensation of fingers ever so lightly running through your hair a weak spot for you, and Bucky was doing such a good job at it.

“Men should drop to their knees for you,” Bucky’s voice was closer, a whisper in your ear. You gasped lightly; you hadn’t felt him lean in. “They should worship your body like it’s their only salvation.”

“Bucky,” you whispered, finding your voice. You could feel it, heat coursing through your body. Your nipples tingled and your clit throbbed as he ran his nose collarbone to jawline, breathing deeply. You didn’t know where this was going. You didn’t know what he was doing. But you knew that at this moment you felt a way you had never thought possible.

“They should savor you,” his lips fell lightly on your neck, his breath hot on your skin, “taste you,” his tongue peaked out, licking the flesh below, “devour you like you’re the most delicious thing they’ve ever tasted.”

A gasp escaped your throat at his words and the feel of his tongue on your neck. His fingers tightened, gripping the hair near your scalp and pulling your head backwards. Your eyes opened to find Bucky leaning over you. He looked at you like a starved man gazing upon his first meal in weeks. You were mesmerized, unable to look away from him. The dark brown hair that fell around his face, the thick scruff along his cheeks, the sharp cheek bones and straight nose, the lush pink lips, he was gorgeous.

“I can do that doll. I can do all of that. Would you want that Y/N?”

Did you? This was one of your best friends. If you said yes, you’d be possibly ruining something you’d spent so long to build. That being said, you’d never seen Bucky like this before. You’d never thought about him this way. You sure as hell never considered that he’d thought about you this way. And now that he was in front of you offering something you didn’t even think existed, you felt like you couldn’t turn it away. You nodded, breathing heavily. Bucky placed his other hand on your knee, rubbing up and down your thigh. His grip was firm but controlled, like he was fighting against himself to keep some kind of boundary.

“You’re going to have to use your words doll. I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” you answered, surprised by just how needy your voice sounded.

Before you knew what was happening, Bucky’s lips were on yours and the hand that had been caressing your thigh, hooked behind your knee and hauled you onto his lap. His lips were soft as he kissed you slowly with a heat that sent your heart racing. Your tongues melted into each other in a devilish embrace, the taste of him unlike anything you’d ever had before. Kissing someone had never been like this, it was like he was in your head. Like he knew exactly what you needed and wanted at every moment.

His hands stayed firm and steady, one still tangled in your hair, controlling the angle and depth of the kiss; the other placed confidently on your lower back, teasing the thin strip of exposed skin with his fingertips. Your hands, however, couldn’t stay still if you tried. They traveled all over his body, the need to touch and feel every inch of him so strong you felt as though you might combust if you stopped. Your heart beat wildly, the blood pulsing, coursing through your body. The thrumming consumed you, filling your ears and clouding your mind with nothing but it and the equal rhythm at your clit. You felt out of body, clawing at Bucky’s biceps and chest, until your hands found purchase on his t-shirt. Gripping the material, you tugged.

“Now, now,” Bucky pulled your head back, breaking the kiss, “Last time I checked, I was the one seducing you.”

The sudden jerk on your hair turned you on more than you were comfortable to admit. Bucky appraised you, his icy blue eyes scanning you as your chest heaved up and down. A glint appeared in his eyes as he took his sweet time looking at you, the seconds ticking by, driving you absolutely mad. Then as if he were testing a theory, his metal fingers tightened even more in your hair as he pulled your head back further causing your spine to arch. Your hands moved behind you, to find stability from his thick, muscular thighs. You let slip a desperate and wonton moan at the sweet sting of your scalp.

“Mmmmm, you like that doll?” asked Bucky, pulling a bit more.

You whimpered, attempting to nod your head as best you could. Bucky hummed again in approval before lowering the hand at your back under the waistband of your sweats. His large hand gripped your panty covered ass, pressing you down till your center made contact with his large bulge. Without need for much instruction from him, your hips began to rock against him earning you a strangled groan. It was the first semblance of lost control you’d heard from him and the sound sent jolts of electricity straight to your clit. You pressed down harder, hoping to hear the heady, erotic sound again. Bucky disentangled his fingers from your hair and slid his hand down to rest at your sternum. Then roughly, your tank top was pulled down, exposing your breasts to the man before you. You gasped as the cool air pebbled your nipples and again even louder when Bucky’s mouth descended on you. He lavished your left nipple with his tongue and lips before taking it between his teeth and tugging gently. You cried out, the sweet burn sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

You felt weak. Your arms buckled behind you, but Bucky was quick to catch you, pulling you forward. You clung to the back of his head as he continued his assault on your chest, licking and sucking, and nipping at the sensitive flesh. The roughness of his stubble rubbed your flesh raw in the sweetest way as he took his time with you. He brought his hands back to your hips, guiding them once more against him. Slowly, the added friction against your center combined with the pleasure coursing through you from the attention given at your chest started to build and build. It wasn’t until you were almost at the crest of release, that you realized just how far gone you were.

“That’s it, baby,” said Bucky, pulling away from your breasts and gazing up at you on his lap. His eyes drinking you in as you rocked back and forth on his lap, “You gonna cum for me?”

Were you? You’d never been able to cum from something so simple before, but you’d also never been so turned on from something so simple as well.

“Sure, you can,” he said, sensing your hesitation, “You know you want to. That sweet little pussy is so desperate to cum, you’d cum just from grinding on my dick.”

His words made your head spin, pushing you even further towards your release. It was going to happen, oh my god, you couldn’t believe it. This man was going to make you cum from a little dry humping and foreplay.

“Hey, look at me,” Bucky’s voice pulled you back and out of your head. Focusing your eyes, you locked gazes with the man before you. He smiled, mouth hung open as he breathed heavily with you, “There she is.”

You didn’t dare look away, as your hips sped up. Close, you were so close. You just needed something—something to push you over the edge. As if sensing your desperation, Bucky, never breaking eye contact, brought a hand back up to your right breast. His thumb and forefinger clamped around your nipple, rolling and pinching it in the most delicious way possible. Your moan stuttered in your throat. God that was good.

“That’s it doll, you’re doing so good. I know you wanna’ cum, so why don’t you cum? Come on baby, you can do it. Be a good girl for me and cum,” Bucky continued to ramble and chant as your breathing picked up speed. You were rising. Higher and higher until finally you were flying. Your orgasm crash through you, but your never looked away from the man in front of you. It was as if you were afraid you’d lose the sensation completely if you looked away from those beautiful eyes and handsome face. Bucky watched you with smug satisfaction as you came, taking his lower lip between his teeth as he pressed your hips firmly down on him. You fell forward, crashing against the plains of his chest as you tried to process what had just happened. Bucky held you, running his hands up and down your back as you tried to get your breathing back to normal.

“So,” Bucky’s voice broke the comfortable silence, “how was that?”

You chuckled in giddy euphoria before nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, “Better than the movies.”

[snarkyystarky]

hockey, skating, and other bad decisions

also on ao3!

summary:

Tony is an infamous figure skater, and Steve is a retired hockey player. After getting paired up together for a reality TV show, Skating with the Stars, the two need to learn how to work together, for the sake of their reputation. Will the two look past their differences and win the competition?

Chapter 1

Tony landed an axel, gliding backwards on one leg as he spread his hands open. The harsh notes of Back in Black blasted in the rink, and Tony continued to skate on the ice, bobbing his head to the song.

The music suddenly paused, and Tony skid to a stop, confused. He turned around, and next to his set up was Pepper, a displeased look on her face.

"You know, I've been standing here for about..." She checked her watch. "fifteen minutes. And as great as practicing is, you had a meeting. Note the word had."

Tony flashed Pepper a smile as he sat down on the bleachers, mopping his face with a towel. "If it was really that important, they would've called me."

It was true. Even if these people were offering everything that Tony needed right now, Tony had a schedule. Or something. He needed to practice, just like Pepper said. Their show, it's called Skating with the Stars, or some bullshit like that. It was your regular reality TV show, with all the unnecessary drama and whatnot. These celebrities are paired up with professionals, and the 'stars' have to be taught a dance routine every week. At the end of the week, there will be four judges to see who is the best that round. At the end of the show, all the points from the previous rounds will be added up, and the final two will go to the finale. Tony liked watching these types of things, not to be a part of it. But he knew that this was his chance to be out to do actual, professional, competitions on ice again.

"Tony, being present is important. They finally assigned you a partner for you. And if you were there-"

"Hold up. They picked my partner without me being there?" Tony paused as he looked up and stared at Pepper. "You met them, right? Who are they?"

"Tony, you would have seen for yourself if you came to the meeting. I had to show up there, without you, and explain that, no, I wasn't lost, and yes, Tony Stark stood you up."

Tony slipped off his skates and put them next to him, wiggling his toes around. "Pepper, I'm sorry. I'll buy you a new pair of heels. The ones that you have currently are looking kinda tired, if you ask me. Don’t think that I saw you eyeing that black pair when we were window shopping the other day. Though you have at least three other pairs just like that. But it’s fine!" Tony clapped his hands together and laced on his shoes. "So now that's dealt with, who is it?"

Pepper ignored Tony’s apology and his attempt at bribery. "Tony, you need to start caring about this. This might be your revival! Just being on this show can help you get back up top!" She sat down next to Tony, carefully moving his skates. "I understand that you feel the need to practice, but I just need you to put a little effort, alright?"

"Alright. I'll... go to the stupid meetings. Only for you, Pep."

And considering that his whole career relied on this stupid show, but that didn't matter. Tony sighed, taking a gulp of his water.

Pepper put an arm around his shoulder. "You'll be fine, Tony. Come on," She stood up, a mischievous grin stretched across her face. "You can take me shopping, like you need to. A red pair, this time."

Tony smiled back, gripping his skates in one hand and his water bottle in the other. "A red pair, huh? Is Miss Potts finally showing her true, rebel self?"

Pepper rolled her eyes as she helped gather the rest of Tony's stuff. "One day, you'll run out of quips to say, and that day, I'll laugh in your face."

They left the ice rink and after buying Pepper her desired heels, she dropped him back at his house. Tony stepped out of the car and then turned around. "Hey, Pep. You still haven't told me about my partner."

She had an amused look on her face, both her hands gripping the steering wheel. "Oh, yeah. It's the hockey guy, you know, Steve Rogers. Okay, I'm leaving now. Remember, I rescheduled the meeting that you were supposed to go to today to tomorrow. Don't forget!"

Pepper drove off laughing as Tony stood there in shock. He called after her car, "Steve Rogers?! Pepper...!”

~

Steve Rogers was once a world wide known hockey player, nicknamed Captain America from his teammates. Tony didn't know if it was because of his patriotic ways of expression or something else on the field, but he was famous. He was the captain of the Avengers with many other players like his best friend Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson, otherwise known as the Winter Soldier and Falcon. Tony never understood the need for hockey nicknames, but whatever floats their boat.

Steve had been injured in the Olympic finals, as well as Barnes, who was banged up so badly that they had to give him a prosthetic. Steve on the other hand, was lucky. Just a mild concussion and a broken arm. After not being able to play for a few months, Rogers shocked the United States by announcing that he was going to retire from the team. He'd been off the grid for a year or so, and now he's joining this competition.

Tony closed the file that an eye patched man named Fury in front of him handed to in the beginning of their meeting. Of course, Tony had known everything before hand, because it was fucking Steve Rogers. Everybody knew who he was.

Fury seemed to be the director of the whole shebang, though you wouldn't have known it unless somebody told you. He looked like the type of guy to yell at 'hooligans' from his front porch, not direct a fucking reality show.

"Well? Does he meet your standards, Mr. Stark?" Fury gave him a stare, and Tony was sure that if he said no, Fury would flip the table that he was sitting behind.

"It's not like I have a choice," Tony mumbled as he stood up and handed the folder back to Fury. "Now, are we getting started? Where's the rink? Are we going to have separate rinks for every couple? How's this going to work?"

Fury placed the file back onto his desk as he got up and escorted Tony out of his office. "All your questions, Mr. Stark, can be taken up with Maria over here."

The door slammed behind Tony. Jesus, he acted like he had a stick in his butt. A brown haired girl greeted him, a clipboard in hand. "Mr. Stark. I'm Maria. Follow me, I'll take you to meet the other competitors."

"Does he always act like that? He's like a humanized version of an angry bear." Tony mused as he walked behind Maria, glancing at the rooms they passed by.

Maria didn't respond with anything but a curt smile, stopping in front of one of the identical rooms in this long hallway. She opened the door, inviting Tony to walk in. "Go on in. Everybody's already in there."

Tony entered the room and was surprised to find it nicely decorated, a few couches in the corner of the room and a round table on the other side. All the people in the room turned to look at him. Tony gave them all a wave of his hand, giving them all a smile. It was fake, but he hadn't smiled genuinely in a while. So what did they do to deserve a real one? "Hey, everyone."

Tony turned around to ask Maria all of his rejected questions from Fury, but saw that she was already half-way down the hallway, speaking into her little earpiece. Alrighty, then.

Tony cleared his throat as he sat down on one of the couches, taking a cookie from the coffee table situated in the middle of the room. Everybody's eyes were still on him. God, this was weird. Was it really because...? Yeah, probably.

Finally, a red-headed girl spoke up. "I'm Natasha. Nice to meet you, Tony." She stuck out a hand.

Tony shook Natasha's hand, wincing as she squeezed his palm tightly. "Thanks," Tony managed to let his hand free from her grip, shaking the pain from his hand. "You really got a... firm shake there, huh?"

"Yeah, we call it the death grip," A lanky boy grinned back at Tony. "Don't worry, it means she likes you. I think. I'm Clint Barton. Maybe you've heard of me?"

"You're... you're the archer. Didn't you win gold in the Olympics?"

"Sure did. It was a hard competition, but I crushed the other opponents," Clint's smile grew as he flexed his arms. "These bad boys hit bullseye every time."

Natasha rolled her eyes as she slapped Clint's arms away. "Ignore him."

Soon enough, there were people left and right introducing themselves, shaking Tony's hand. Tony recognized many of them from his TV screen and competitions from the past. If they knew about... what happened, they didn't mention it.

Tony swiped the cookie crumbs off of his shirt. There was someone missing. "Hey, have you guys met Steve Rogers yet?"

The curly haired boy, Bruce, piped up. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure he's at the rink across from here, where the show is going to be held."

"Oh. Okay, I'll be back soon."

A chorus of goodbyes rang out from the group, and Tony was just... didn't understand. They were all so nice to him, like they didn't care about his background or the fiasco...

After wandering around for a few minutes, Tony managed to find a large rink, bleachers surrounding the ice. It looked like a regular ice rink, besides the cameras and other set up in the back. There was somebody there, sitting down. That must be him. He opened the glass door and stepped down the stairs, the cool air meeting his skin. Tony stopped in front of whom he assumed was Steve, leaning on the glass enclosure around the ice. "Hey."

The man looked up, straightening his back, and the first thing that Tony noticed was that yes, this man was definitely Steve Rogers. The second thing that he noticed was his stance. His posture, stiff and alert, reminded Tony of a military guard, or a soldier.

"Sorry, I didn't know if I could come here yet- wait, are you...?" Steve's eyes flashed in recognition and his calm but strong demeanor shifted, his eyes boring into him.

Tony tensed, a wave of defensiveness running up his back. He didn't like the way Steve was staring at him, judging eyes shifting from his face back down to his water bottle in his hand. He had hockey skates on, and his cheeks were red. Tony assumed that Steve had been doing a few laps around the rink before this. Steve stood up and stuck out a hand.

"Steve Rogers."

Tony took his hand and shook once. "Tony Stark," He let go and turned away from Steve, looking at the glittering ice in front of them. "Decided to join the dancers, huh? Who knew."

"Didn't have time before, since I was the captain-"

"Of the hockey team who won gold, yeah, yeah, I get it," Tony eyed the blue logo in the middle of the rink, Skating with the Stars, in cursive swirly letters. "No need to boast, Rogers."

The atmosphere immediately changed, and Tony could feel Steve's glare burning into him.

"Says the cheater."

Tony whirled around, meeting Steve's hard gaze. "You keep up with the classier sports, captain?"

"The sport is classy, but the people?" Steve shrugged, a shit eating grin on his face.

"There are higher, more advanced words to describe us. Not that you would understand any." Tony shot back.

"Oh please. You only skate for yourself. To win, for fame, for money. You don't care about anything else besides that fact. You would cheat for it."

"At least when I'm skating for myself I have more wins than losses. Without any help, unlike your team." Tony's voice was rough, scraping against his throat. "Plus, I would be a better captain than you, letting one of my players lose a complete arm."

Tony could tell that he hit a nerve with that one. "We still won gold, even after that. Because we're a team, and in this world, you need allies to survive." Steve stepped forward, and Tony had to tilt his head to meet his eyes, which angered him even more. Stupid.

"Well, look where I am now."

"You're here on a reality TV show just so you can put your name back out there after a year or so of hiding away from the press. You hope to win the show, so people can see that you have so called 'talent' underneath all of the lies." They were inches from each other now.

Tony was fuming. "Oh yeah? What are you doing here, Mr. Perfect? Admit it. You just want to be in the spotlight again, and this is the perfect opportunity. Does retirement bore you, old man?"

"Come on. Put on your skates and we can race a few rounds. With those skinny legs, you won't stand a chance."

"It seems like you two met." They both whipped their heads toward the source of the voice. Fury was by the doorway, his arms crossed.

Tony stepped backward, grumbling under his breath. He didn't want to work with this fucking asshole.

Steve seemed to have the same idea. "Fury, maybe we could switch out partners or something? I don't think that we're exactly suited to work together."

"No switching. You keep the same partner that you have."

"Fury, he's a hockey player! He won't be able to keep up in a routine, let alone an event!"

"What does that mean?" Steve cut in, his voice sharp.

"In baby talk, it means that you're an amateur, Rogers. Or do you not know what that means either? It means-"

"I'm not an amateur!"

"I bet you've never even worn figure skates, have you?"

"I have! Once!"

"Once?" Tony snorted. "Definitely an amateur."

"You're the one who desperately needs a partner, so it wouldn't exactly be a good idea to throw me out just yet."

"Desperately? I-"

"And, I'm not a cheater. Maybe you'll actually have a chance to win this time."

"I think I will take you up on that race, Rogers," Tony glanced down at Steve's beat up hockey skates. "If you're able to keep up with me on figure skates, I'll back off."

Steve sat down and started to unlace his shoes with fast and nimble fingers. "You're on.”

[whitewolfbumble]

The Fallout - Part Three (Bucky x Reader)

Summary: You had been a ghost for years, taking down the bad guys from the shadows that had once enslaved you. That is until the Avengers finally caught up with you and yet again your life changed. But your past won’t stay dead and everything starts to shift when a familiar face joins the ranks: Bucky Barnes. He may not remember you, but you certainly remember him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Slow burn, language, gory vivid nightmares, abstract talk of suicide, 

Word Count: About 8k

A/N: This one is looong and I have no regrets. I couldn't split it up and want to move this along because shit will be going down soon friends. I ended off on a cute note because I’m not all doom and gloom here.

MY MASTERLIST // THE FALLOUT MASTERLIST //  PART TWO

You hoped a little late night impromptu sparring session with a slightly crazed Bucky wouldn’t be a big deal. But it didn’t leave as unscathed as you thought.

The next day had been good actually: you both had slept through the rest of the night, Bucky didn’t remember a thing which is exactly how you wanted it, and he had agreed after some not-so-gentle prodding about being your so-called “Priority One”.

“You’re... you’ve actually agreed to this?” Steve questioned, unbelieving.

You were curled up on the couch in the little living room area beside the kitchen, eating Thor’s favourite chips.

“No, because I was the one that came up with it,” you countered, before nodding over to the Bucky who was rummaging around for a clean coffee mug. “He was the one to agree to it.”

“And not necessary willingly,” Bucky threw a glance over to you as he poured himself a coffee and leaned against the kitchen island.

“Please, your resolve crumbled faster than this,” A handful of chips crumbled in your fist, falling in a dusty heap beside you on the couch. Bucky responded with a slight “Oh Please” and Steve looked at you with a disapproving look.

“Ah yes,” said Thor walking in, taking a seat beside you (and right on the crumbs). He dug his hand in the bag between you both, musing. “The Coolest of Ranch… it must be quite the favourable place in Midgard.”

“I think it would be,” you noted thoughtfully, wanting to drop the conversation with Steve.

“Y/N,” Steve said sternly. “Since day one you have never given up a mission or at least not incessantly insisted that you take part. Now you’re saying you are going to willingly give up this mission… one you know more about than anyone else here. That’s really your plan?”

“He makes a fair point, Y/N,” Bucky said, actually feigning innocence.

“What, Y/N isn’t up for the challenge?” Thor said, cheeks full of chips before teasing you. “Perhaps this battle is one too many.”

“Excuse me," you directed at Thor with mock hurt in your voice. "I thought we had a moment just there, now you go and say this? What about the Ranch?”

Steve rolled his eyes and stood up from the edge of the armchair he had planted himself on.

“Oh, we’ll always have that. I insisted that two of the cupboards be full of them,” Thor said jovially, clearly happy with his planning.

Between him and Tony, the snack department was clearly handled.

“Y/N, just tell me why,” Steve insisted.

“Look, let’s say for a second that I actually think this is more important than a mission. Let’s say this is the mission for me now, right? You guys can handle Hydra for once. I don’t actually know that much about these bases anyway. I don’t get what the big deal is.”

Steve had given you a confused look, still not understanding your words. Your personal stake in taking down Hydra could not be overstated. Yet here you were.

Until it was like something clicked in him, and he nodded to himself smiling in an unusually smug way. You pursed your lips and decided to ignore that, as those looks were never good.

“I’ll sit it out and do something that would probably piss them off more if they found out anyways," you said, while Steve's smirk stayed put. "It was always their biggest fear that I’d draw more to my cause. And know there will still be plenty of Hydra left over for me to fight when you’re done.”

The only response came from Steve was an “Alright, if you say so” as he turned away.

“Yeah yeah,” you muttered shoving another handful of chips into your mouth with along with Thor, who was smiling away to himself, munching blissfully.

_______

“So can we talk?” you asked the only other soul around.

Later that morning the training room was now Team-less, as was most of the Tower. You had stubbornly insisted not to know anything about the Hydra base mission to everyone that questioned your decision.

Which was literally everyone.

The less you knew, maybe the easier it would be to sit this one out, so you had been trying somewhat unsuccessfully to avoid them.

Steve had given you a knowing smile (and whatever it was he thought he knew, you certainly didn’t) in his full dark blue battle-ready suit on his way to what you assumed was the quinjet hanger. Your response was to flip him off with a smile.

But they had left, so you and Bucky were alone. Your time was spent with the punching bag, and his was on the track, before wandering back in here to carry on with his training routine.

You had wondered about your reaction to seeing him after all of this years again. To have him where you lived, in your life. Generally, this was all going better than you thought (mostly).

Bucky’s back stiffen at your words as he reached down to grab a rather large weight with his flesh arm. He didn’t turn to you. You sat down exhausted and sweaty on the mat, leaning against a piece of equipment, legs sprawled out in front of you leisurely.

“Brooklyn, circa teenage Bucky. The neighbourhood has changed a little,” you nodded and looked out the window. “I was over there a few months ago now with Steve… apparently, there was a tiny little street fair there sometimes you guys went too? Just down the road from you?”

A soft expression fell onto his face and it seemed to slowly fall through his body, relaxing his once stiffen posture.

“Osmand’s, actually," he supplied quietly. "It was just a small local fair. I think, anyway.”

“No, you’re right,” you encouraged as casually as you could. “Steve mentioned that one. Just a couple games and some animals, right?”

And that, essentially, was how you spent your day.

Talking about old times and reliving favourite scenes. There was a lot of making fun of poor Steve, not that either of you took it too far in that respect, but a jab here or there at his expense was pretty fun for you both.

It was the first day in a long time you had actually spent smiling. You watched as patchy, bright memories slowly broke down the rigid man in front of you.

Bucky infinitesimally began to let down the hardened layers Hydra had built up through the years. You watched as you saw small glimpses of the man underneath. He would’ve been confident, easy-going, maybe a little mischevious, you thought, if those phantom outline of cocky smirks were any indication.

And that was how you decided to tackle this with him over the next several days: talk about happier memories. And if he ran out of pleasant ones you would repeat the ones he’s already told a hundred times over still, engraining them in his mind. Maybe then he would start dreaming of a place like home instead of Hydra.

When you got out and got cognizant enough to function, you had actually gone back home. Or you went to a place that you imagined your old home to be like, anyway. The real place was an ocean away from you back then.

You so had walked around for a few weeks, trying to find the right little town. Eventually, you had. You spent the entire day creating memories: sock hops in the town hall, playing tag in that schoolyard with your friends, imagining your mother waving at you from the kitchen window as you came home, what you would have done to your crush under that bridge, or what fashionable clothes you would’ve gotten from that little boutique.

It had filled your thoughts with pleasant ideas, and after a day of wandering through the town and those made up memories, you had slept soundly for the first time in years. It may not have been a lasting fix and it didn’t do the trick now, but it was still one beautiful shining memory you clung too. You wanted to give Bucky a little of the same in some way. You could always work through the bad stuff later.

As night approached and the sun went down, the darkening sky seemed to darken Bucky’s mood.

You had ended up in the kitchen, the Tower still empty except for the pair of you, getting a cup of tea. Sleep would be coming soon and by his tense look and posture, he was starting to dread it.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said with a warm and encouraging smile, taking a deep sip of your mint and honey tea. “It’ll be alright.”

He looked at his cup and nodded slightly, dipping his tea bag in and out absently. God, you could practically feel the tension rolling off of him, with shoulders tense and fists beginning to clench and unclench. The man was more tightly wound than Bruce, which was saying something.

“C’mon,” you said, reaching out to grab his metal wrist as you stood and moved from the kitchen. Except he didn’t budge in the slightest, almost sending your tea careening out of your cup and onto the floor.

You turned and raised your eyebrows to him questioningly. But his eyes weren't on you but the spot where your hand was grabbing his wrist, as though the touch was somehow foreign.

It suddenly snapped into place that maybe this was the first time someone had touched his arm willingly and without flinching. And at that thought you decided not to move your hand away, your grasp on his wrist staying firmly in place. His eyes moved up to yours after a drawn-out moment and watched yours unreadable, but you didn’t shy away from his look or him until he gave in.

“C’mon, Sergeant," you teased, pulling at the metal limb until he stood, shifting his weight. "March.”

You made your way back to his room, the air unfamiliarly cool compared to your last two visits. The mess had been cleaned up- Bucky had seen to it all himself- and save a missing table everything was back in its place, patched up, or replaced.

Once inside you let go of his arm and moved to dig out a big black leather box that you had noticed the night before; a record player. Off the shelf you grabbed a couple records, taking your time and reading them over carefully before putting them back in place. One caught your eye and you showed it over the shoulder to Bucky.

“Fine,” he agreed absently from the end of the bed. He was still to tense to really care about the selection.

You popped it on and let the cool twangy notes reverberate through the room before walking over to the bed. You plunked down at the head of it, grabbing a blanket and throwing it haphazardly over your legs, leaning back against the headboard.

Bucky watched you, apparently a little floored at how comfortable you were in his bed (when was the last time he had a woman in his bed?). It was a moment before he scooted back and leaned against the wall at the end of the bed. He didn't reach for a blanket to cover him, just letting the smooth, familiar rhythm of the song fall across him.

Soon, in the warm glow of the room and comforting background music, conversation started to trickle and then it flowed.

He talked about a girl he couldn’t remember the name of (that probably happened a lot, you jabbed. With a jawline like that you would think he’d have had a hundred girlfriends in his early years) and that they had danced to the song playing. He talked about the Coney Island rides and getting sick with Steve after riding the cyclone a dozen times.

“I don’t remember laughing so much,” he said, looking at his hands but his eyes were far away, thinking back fondly.

“After throwing up?”

“And having our dates leave without us even noticing,” he said, looking to you with that phantom outline of a smirk. it seemed to be getting a bit stronger, but you wonder if it was just a trick of the light.

Eventually, the fond look in his eyes diminished behind slowly falling eyelids. Dwelling on those pleasant summer memories of his past slowly began to lulled him slowly to sleep as quietly you watched. As he did, you tried to commit each word he said tonight to memory. He seemed to remember some things clearly and other not so much. But these memories you didn’t want him to forget.

Carefully you crawled down to where he was and gently helped his body slump down to the side, your touch on him as feather-light as possible. You gently got off the bed and covered him with the blanket you had been using, warmed from your body heat.

You turned down the volume of the record player and restarted it before leaving. Maybe with the music playing he would dream of dancing with a pretty girl at a simpler time in his life.

Exiting the room you closed the door and hesitated.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.," you asked quietly in the empty hall. "Do you know the physical signs Barnes shows while having a nightmare… Or I guess before he starts screaming from one?”

“Yes, Y/N. Would you like me to alert you when it happens?”

“Yes, please.”

_______

It was a couple of hours later when F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted you. By the time you got down to his room, you found him tossing, face contorted in pain while the sound of the long played out record buzzing statically in the background.

You sat beside Bucky, soothing him as best you knew how, humming the tune of the record with your arm draped around his shoulder. It took about an hour, but the restlessness stopped and his breath came slowly and even again.

It was the dead of night, but you really didn’t want to make the cool trek back up to your room. You opted to stay with him, sliding off of the bed and resting your head down on the side. You put a hand up close to Bucky’s without touching it and closed your eyes, half curled on the floor. You hoped your presence was enough to keep the dreams away.

Now, his dreams were not the worst part of that night but yours certainly were. In the quiet dark space beside Bucky’s bed, you had fallen asleep. And it wasn’t blissful.

Nightmarish faces and horrible tortures filled your thoughts as your unconscious mind ran rampant. A man appeared in front of you, and you remembered his name to be Gerault. He was twice the size of you in your dream though, half of his body a mouth with sharp black teeth dripping with saliva. His frame faded into the blackness that surrounded both you, with only the howls of unseen victims echoing endlessly seeming to exist beyond him and you and the pain.

You fought and clawed and spat and raged against your attacker but every injury you inflicted immediately disappeared from him, appearing on your own skin and searing you with pain. The bottom half of your body was on fire but the top half was completely numb and frozen, and you didn’t know which was worse. You couldn’t escape any of this and time had stopped running completely. Thoughts of anything before this were completely gone. Agony and terror were all you would ever be, endlessly screaming into this void.

“Stop, I don’t want this!” you screamed, but the only sound you could hear was laughing from this large, fanged mouth of Gerault and the faceless screams of people around you. The black abyss was teaming with them, unseen and screaming above your own petrified howls for help.

You had no bearings on where you were or what was happening, as you couldn't fight, couldn't escape, couldn't do anything. It was so disorienting, and your body ached at the effort you put into grounding yourself with feeling something besides pain, fear, fire, or ice.

“Gerault, don’t! Stop hurting me, please!”

“Y/N! Y/N!” you heard somewhere in the dark. A warm hand wrapped around your icy shoulder, burning you.

“No!" you screamed again, trying to recoil from the touch as you expected searing pain to follow. "Please!”

There was nothing physical around you, nothing hold onto. Just emptiness and darkness and screaming and agony. It was like a coffin and an ocean enveloping you at once.

“Y/N!”

Your eyes opened with a jolt, watery and scalding inside your skull. You reached out and began pummelling the man in front of you, hitting hard in your engrained five punch rhythmic pattern.

You kept hitting whoever was in front of you as hard as you could until your knuckles hit something unyielding and cold that wrapped around one fist. Immediately your always-late-to-the-party flight response kicked into high gear.

Your feet kicked out, realizing you were on the ground as you fought to stand up. But the man in front of you held you with their chest to your back as you tried in vain to get away. Tight arms wrapped around you and you dropped to a hunch, pained and defeated in the vice grip. After what felt like hours in the agonizing void you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please,” you begged. “Please, don’t!”

Soft whispering “sshhhh” sounded from the body behind you, wrapping you in tightly as you sat on your knees, face almost to the floor. You kept struggling, weakly and futilely against the man until you recognized the voice.

“It’s alright, Y/N," came the deep timbre, humming just beside your ear. "You’re safe, I’m here. I've got you now.”

... Bucky. Oh god, it was him.

“Bucky?” you sobbed out.

Looking behind, your nose came in contact with the scratchy stubble of the man you were getting to know. You braced yourself as relief crashed over you and shut your eyes. It wasn't Gerault- laughing and taunting and hurting you- but Bucky who was holding you now. It had felt like an eternity in that nightmare, and as relief moved through you so did fear. Fear that at any moment it would somehow be back to torture and haunt you all over again. Tightly digging deeper into Bucky's neck, his arms held you fast as you tried to catch up to reality.

“I’m not going to let you go,” he said, answering you unspoken need. “I think you said you weren’t going to let me break, right? I’ll keep you together too. We’ll do that for each other, hmm?”

“Get me out,” you choked into his skin. You weren’t far enough away from it all. It was stifling and you couldn’t stand it.

You felt a hand swiftly move under your knees and felt briefly of being in the air before Bucky pulled you tightly back into him. His chest was bare and terribly hot and you clung to it. It was real and kept you mercifully grounded.

You didn’t open your eyes, but you focused your mind on what you would be seeing if they were open. The sleek white and glass hallway, steel and mirrored elevator, then your bedroom hallway.

Soon the slight echo of footsteps ceased as a door opened and you entered a quiet room. A soft fluffy mattress came up to meet you and he laid you down.

His position on you didn’t move though, as he moved with your body to lay partially on top of you. It was crushing and warm and made it impossible for you to move, to been seen, or exposed. You were not drifting in an endless black void, exposed to pain and torture and screams of your attacker, unable to fight back lest it hurt you. You would be alright now.

You nuzzled as deeply as you could into him, riding through the waves of deep and intense panic. It soon turned to relish at the reality of your safety as demonstrated by the wrapped up bear hug was felt to your bones.

I’m safe. He’s got me.

He’s safe. I’ve got him.

_______

That first morning after your first nightmare in a long time was… an experience.

You were not going to lie about it, waking up for the first time with Bucky and being positively stuck to him was: at worst grossly embarrassing and at best such a comfort like you had never experienced.

You had slept through the rest of the night (and so did he) like the barrier he made blocked any bad dreams from entering your mind. Maybe it worked the same for him, your presence keeping his nightmares at bay.

When he cracked his eyes open he immediately started to move away and you both had groaned as your skin pulled apart, feeling like it had been glued together.

Once he was off, his tense flustered look coupled with a flash of a memory in his panicked blue eyes actually started to make you laugh a little. A flash of surprise morphed onto Bucky’s face as he looked back you from the farthest point of the room, having retreated there.

You shimmied to the edge of bed before answering the look on his face.

“I’m just a sick person, that’s all," you said, waving it off. "My mind goes to sick places. Don’t worry about it.”

Immediately you saw Bucky’s eyes furrowing together before his eyes went wide, a new wave of anxiety hitting him.

“I didn’t do anything, I swear Y/N. I just… We just slept.” he said, voice fringed with the smallest amount of frantic imploring.

Dazed for a moment, you tried not to laugh more at that remark.

Shit, this was awkward.

“I figured Buck. You’re not the type,” you reassured him. “I just… you pulling off me was kind like this terrible time I had like, I don't know, thirty years ago maybe?”

“Okay,” he said unsure, head tilting. You waved your arm, gesturing.

“I just mean I was really hurt- like badly hurt- on a mission?” Nothing more needed to be said about that, and you were thankful. Reliving Hydra missions were not how you usually wanted to start your day. “And there was blood and guts everywhere. I mean all over the place. I was stuck on the floor hurt, then stuck on the floor, if you know what I mean.”

He understood but wasn’t quite ready to smile at what had made you laugh.

“You were too hurt to move, and then blood dried.”

“It really is an awful memory, but I don’t know, its hard to think that a little blood ever stopped me… Is it awful that I’m laughing at it?”

“Yeah, I guess if that’s how you’re feeling… laughing is a better alternative,” he said, his lips starting to curl up in spite of himself.

Man, you were both pretty twisted people. But stuff like this? Laughing at what you could through the sheer volume of pain? You needed it. Bucky was right, the alternative would not have been a good one.

“I’ll always be honest about how I feel. To you anyway,” you said pointedly.

The ending of that sentence fell unsaid. You wanted to add that he could do the same, to be honest about his feelings, however crazy. You didn't want him to feel silently panicked and anxious around you, retreating to the other side of the room, but talk to you about it.

“And this was awkward," you continued. "But nice. So thanks.”

You figure he got the gist of what went unsaid as his face softened with a very small lopsided smile.

_______

In the light of day everything was better than the night had been. You and Bucky trained, talked about his good memories, and sat in comfortable silence together.

You ignored the nightmare blip that cropped up, Bucky only asking you once if you were alright after being lost in thought for quite some time. You were reassuring, as it happened only occasionally (and one blip in a sea of horrors was all in all pretty good).

But it happened again that night.

It was both different in detail and the same in theme: torture and the foreign feeling of helplessness, something you definitely weren’t when you were awake. This time you were in a metal trough of sorts and your attacker was a different person, Andre.

He stood above you, your blood in his mouth and your flesh hanging from his teeth. Your wailing erupted from every pore of your body, you thrashing wildly to get out. But a heavy metal lid closed in on you, save a small, rusted opening above you.

Andre’s face took up the entirety of the opening before a thick metal weapon came into view. You kicked and screamed and raged against the coming onslaught, his weapon slicing down and into your body lightning fast.

You couldn’t move, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t get away. Deep inside you, that part that lay broken, broke again.

“Shit, just get it off!” A frantic voice sounded.

“Don’t touch her and get the fuck back. Now,” A harsh and threatening voice said.

It was Bucky. He was here.

“Bucky?” You thought you asked but weren’t sure if the word made it out.

A sharp tug on your body moved you and you felt yourself being pulled against a warm body that smelled of spice and sweat. You knew that smell and you knew the feeling of someone pressed against you. Relief began to spread from your fingertips slowly through your body.

You were free, you were finally out. Again, the nightmare was over.

Immediately you dug yourself in as deep as possible to the person who held you.

Feeling eyes on you as your instincts kicked in, and you opened one eye slightly to see a few members of the team there, faces a little blurred. Why were they all here?

“She needs medical attention,” someone sounded, a woman.

“No, back off,” The chest below you reverberated with the threat beneath those words.

“Buck, c’mon she—”

But the air around you moved swiftly and you heard an elevator ding open, and then closed. In the small space alone the two of you were alone again.

I’m safe. He’s got me.

I’m safe.

_______

A cacophony of voices sounded around you, trying to bark orders or get your attention, get you to snap out of it. Your eyes were wet with tears and unfocused, voice calling out in absolute agony.

You had this fucking wristband on, drenched in the blood that was pouring down your wrist, covering your soft skin and grey linens in the black looking liquid in the darkness.

Bucky struggled with the stupid band, stomach on the ground and queasy, only able to process that you were hurt, you had done this to yourself, and he needed to get you out of here. Get you safe and away from everyone and everything.

A heat wave of emotions choked him, fiery skin and breath shaking him at the sight of you like this. You had kept him sane for days, fighting off the nightmares when he was too weak to do it himself. He had even attacked you for it.

And now he here was, unable to show you the smallest amount of kindness as payment and get this fucking thing off of you. You had done nothing but keep his head above water, and he was failing you. The only stranger to ever show him anything besides pain, ridicule, or revulsion.

His lungs and stomach burned as fiery emotions began pumping through him.

“Shit,” Tony’s voice came barking and frantic, pushing Natasha out of the way and crowding both you and him. “Just get it off!”

“It’s tied at the top, stop working it from the cuff, it’ll be easier.” Natasha assessed quickly.

“Just cut it! Why don’t one you have a knife; you always have a knife!”

Bucky’s stomach dropped further. Of course in the moment he needed it, he had left it, running instinctually towards your room when he heard your screams.

A deep rage sparked out of nowhere, and he tried to contain the violent shaking it caused.

“Don’t touch her and get the fuck back. Now,” Bucky’s threat was low and deeply serious.

If it meant helping you, the one screaming in anguish before his eyes, he would snap the neck of everyone in here. With that and the look in his eyes, the group understood his threat was in fact serious.

Despite the noise of everyone speaking, you somehow heard only Bucky’s voice in the din.

“Bucky?”

Your soft voice came out like a sob. Y/N was the unbroken one, strong and capable, letting every joke or punch or situation roll off of your back with ease. But that pitiful little cry cut deeply through Bucky’s crafted outwardly steely persona to his core, far worse than even your screams had.

I’m failing her, and she knows it, he thought.

Your voice in one pain-filled word had said it all.

He couldn’t wait fumbling with this thing in the darkness anymore and he grabbed the blood-slicked rope and pulled, snapping it with his metal arm. The vibration rang through the bed frame, but you lay still.

The slack immediately loosened the wristband and he pulled it off carefully, trying to remove the barbs that sunk deep into your skin without damaging you anymore. As the blood-coated metal slid out of you, flows of blood trickled down your wrist.

You didn’t react- you didn’t seem to be reacting to the pain of having jagged metal barbs tearing up your wrist at all- so Bucky took a small breath and tried to calm the fire that burned in him.

Scooping you up, he put a hand around your back to the side of your head, pushing you into his neck and shielding you. With the other hand under your knees, he pulled you up and into him desperately tight. You hadn’t asked him to take you away like you had last night, but Bucky obliged again nonetheless.

Just like the night before he felt your nose nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Again, Bucky took another small breath, taking in the sight, smell, and feel of you.

She’s alright.

Bucky strode out of the room fast, unable to jostle you with how tight he was pressing you in, more so like you were moving with his body, a part of him. Instead of turning left toward the main elevator to the medical bay, Bucky turned right, towards the private floor elevator.

Immediately voices sounded behind him, trying to catch up.

“What the hell, Barnes?! She slashed her wrist, get to the fucking med bay!” Tony half yelled.

“She needs medical attention, Bucky,” Natasha agreed.

“No. Back away from us,” Another threat, as deep and cold as he could make it. Again, a flash of murder in his eyes.

“Buck, c’mon she—” Steve started.

But he was already at the elevator and inside. “I’ll deal with this.”

The team was about to rush in, but a reluctant Steve held up an arm blocking them, his face looking back to Bucky, disapproving despite his action.

Quiet and alone Bucky tried to slow his breathing so it wasn’t thumping against your head. The moment the doors had closed his blank death stare had turned to one filled with still panic.

He’s dealt with worse in the field. If this had cut your artery you would have been dead before the team got there. He looked at your wrist in the mirror and his face cringed with pain.

“She’s never been like this.” He recalled Banner’s voice, sounding muted when Steve, Natasha, Tony, and Banner had arrived, just seconds after Bucky had punched in the door.

He had seen the scars that first or second day. Usually you stayed pretty covered up like he did, Bucky figuring a habit from living in a cold climate for all those years, but he had noticed the scars on that wrist.

Some were old and deep, some pinker and newer. Whatever this was, you had been doing it for a while, and it was hurting you. Bucky just couldn’t think of a reason why.

A small sputter from your crumpled frame below sounded, and though he couldn’t make it out, he responded as reassuring as he could muster.

“It’s alright, doll.” His voice was strained and tight in his throat. But as the door opened with a ding, he caught your words, slurred and out of it.

“I’m safe… He’s got me… ’m safe.”

Bucky stood stone still, unmoving, long enough for the doors to close.

_______

For two days in a row you had now made apologies to Bucky, and now today, after the scare from last night, to the Team.

You remembered first time waking up next to him. It was pretty awkward as you two jumped apart but had managed to laugh.

But that next morning- the morning after the Team tried to get you out of your cuff- was not as twistedly jovial.

You woke up pressed to his frame again, this time completely covered head to foot with his hulking muscular body. Something in you ached fiercely but you waited in pseudo-unconsciousness for as long as possible until the man lying on top of you moved.

He didn’t move off of you, just stirred above you, the entirety of his not-at-all small frame barely letting you breathe.

“‘Morning,” he said feather soft in your ear. You titled your head slightly over and he lifted his head to look down at you. You were impossibly close to him and you felt your pulse quicken like it hadn’t yesterday.

“Morning… “ you said, waiting for him to make the first move to get off of you. Cue the long awkward pause.

“Unless I’m missing something, usually this is when people get up?” you said slowly and a little taken back that he was still holding fast onto you.

“Tell me what happened.”

He shifted slightly, moving the side of you, but his arm lay across you, still binding you in, torso pressed to your side. It gave you a little breathing room but not much.

“Okay um, I was born? And I lived…someplace I guess, then the big bad wolf grabbed me—”

“I mean last night,” Bucky said, but without the exasperation you thought would be here.

He looked at you, eyes not giving much away. He acted calm and patient but was completely guarded. And he wasn’t going to let you go.

“A nightmare, Bucky," you sighed. "A bad one. Or a mix of that and a reliving of the past, more accurately.”

“And your wrist?” he questioned, nodding not unkindly down to it.

You were a little surprised that your wrist was now bandaged up in a clean white cloth, expertly applied. This was the ache you were feeling. You inhaled as you rolled it and you could feel Bucky jerk. You felt stitches underneath the wrapping pop and strain and you exhaled out the pain.

“It looks bad. But how it looks is not what it actually is,” you stated, and Bucky only nodded, eyes not betraying anything but that carefully crafted calm and patience.

“When I was alone, I didn’t want to be found. And I wasn’t in a place like this. I had… other, worse methods of waking myself up. And you if you think this is bad, I’m not going to begin to get it into all that now.”

You stated that last part quickly, before the question on his face was voiced. His body settled back into place.

“This was a self-admittedly rudimentary way to wake myself up if things got too bad. I couldn’t afford to give my position away to anyone and risk Hydra finding me again. I would die before that happened. This was better.”

“But Hydra isn’t here now," he said slowly, trying to get the words to sink in. You briefly wondered if he had said that to himself before. "They can’t get you here.”

“No,” you agreed quietly. “But everyone needs sleep. The whole team has personal struggles that they have to deal with, and they don’t need mine keeping them up at night.”

That got you a frown.

“But really, I haven’t had this kind of nightmare in ages. I don’t know why it’s happening now.”

There was a beat in the conversation.

“Because of me?” Guarded eyes looked down at you.

Ah, there it was. You glimpsed through the facade, the reason for his cool and collected eyes.

“No,” you said eyes not breaking his stare. “Not because of you. Nightmares aren’t catching, and we haven’t even gotten into war stories yet anyways. There is no way this could be you.”

You gave nothing but a firmly confident look his way as you lied right to his face, until he shifted and got up out of bed. He almost glided out, smooth movements careful not to touch you more than needed.

You followed suit but your mind was far away.

It had been because of him, and deep down you knew it. This didn’t start on the first night he had his nightmare, but the second when he attacked you.

Shit.

You couldn’t tell him either. You knew you just couldn’t.

“I’m sorry Bucky,” you said unexpectedly. For the nightmare, and for the lie.

“Nothing to be sorry for, doll,” he said with a dismissive wave as he grabbed a new shirt from the drawer.

“Doll?” you repeated, face contorting with a broad smile as his words broke your clouded thoughts. “When did that become a thing?”

He snorted in response and with his head turned away slightly you couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or not.

“Well, I’m still sorry anyway… bro?” you teased lightly. “Is that what the youths say nowadays?”

A genuine smile reached up to his eyes. Nightmares may not be catching but a rare genuine smile from Bucky Barnes certainly was.

“Maybe I’ll stick with “doll”, but we can work on that one.”

_______

The Team hung around that day, long after you explained to them what happened. Expressions ranged from frustrated to downright horrified.

“Why didn’t you just get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to wake you up?”

Shit. You had even thought of that for Bucky.

“This was just habit, Bruce. Not practice,” you said, absently grabbing a small clear glass tablet while he shuffled around the lab table you were leaning against. “And it hasn’t happened in years. Not like that anyway. I didn’t think I actually needed it or any other help, I guess.”

“Ah yes,” Tony spat, popping a blueberry in his mouth as he sauntered around the counter. “The classic “I’m way more comfortable with a prehistoric torture device strapped to me night after night to avoid using the highly-advanced, masterfully built tech we have running through every room including my own” excuse. Heard it a hundred times. Haven’t you Bruce? Gotta keep up with the kids these days.”

“Ha, ha,” you said dryly but smiled. “And I’m older than you, Anthony. But the cuff is gone, I promise.”

“Hate the cuff!” Clint piped up from the hall as he was walking passed the open lab door.

“Destroy that bitch,” Tony agreed.

“Alright, alright, it’s the worst and it’s gone forever," you said dramatically. "The bitch is dead, long live the queen.”

_______

“Y/N, I think your thinking is wrong here.” Steve said. You were running in unison, strides matching perfectly.

“Oh, is that so? Wonderful.”

The track echoed with your voice as you ran past the windows, catching glimpses of the great city below as you curved around the track. It was like you were running circles around New York.

“It’s only that you think Bucky is the mission. That he is the one that you have to work things through, right?”

Both your eyes stayed straight ahead, as always, when you ran together. Sam had taken off the day before, visiting friends that returned from tour. As usual, you would sub in as a running partner with Steve for one of his two daily runs. And it wasn’t like he was going to let you use his punching bag after seeing your wrist last night anyway.

“Well Steve, that’s why I’m here isn’t? That’s why you’ve put up with me all this time, for this exact scenario. Let’s not be coy about it.”

In your peripherals you could practically see his face sour. His tone at any rate clearly stated his emotions. “You know that’s not true, Y/N. You’re my friend and have been for some time. Let’s not downplay that.”

“Alright, alright," you agreed. "So what’s wrong with thinking this is about Bucky than?”

“You think that you have to help him work through it," He spoke like he wasn't and hadn't been running for close to an hour now. "But maybe he can do the same for you.”

You were confused, face contorting a little.

“I have worked through my shit. I’m not out… doing all that," you said, not wanting or needing to get into what that entailed. "Everything I used to do. A small relapse in dreams isn’t a big deal.” Your wrist throbbed at that.

Sure, you had what you called a “practiced awareness”. You knew what you were made to be and there wasn’t any hiding it (though sometimes you did temper it). The actual trauma of the whole ideal you figured you were quite over. I mean you weren’t exactly cowering in an abandoned warehouse like a dying rat anymore.

“I’m only getting at the fact that maybe you just can’t work through things just the once. Maybe it’s a process that you have to work at and fight against every day. And two fighters are better than one. Everyone needs backup some time, kid.”

_______

You looked at your door, confused. Completely off the bottom hinge, the top hinge hung for dear life onto the heavy metal frame. The handle was smashed almost clean through.

“I don’t remember destroying this lately?” you asked, head tilting.

“Was me,” Bucky muttered, stepping passed you.

He grabbed the door, muscles flexing, and pulled the creaking mess easily loose from the frame. He stepped back and placed it against the hall wall.

“Sorry,” he added sheepishly, running a hand through his hair, assessing the damage with you.

“Well, lucky we live in a safe neighbourhood,” you offered. “My stuff should stay unstolen, doorless or no.”

_______

That night you eyed your bed, eyes narrow and jawline set.

You were going to sleep and sleep through the night at that.

A pit formed in your stomach as you lay there, fingers roaming over the bandage where your cuff used to be. Old habits died hard and this was one you had had for a long time. But it was time to begin again, and for the better. You wanted better for Bucky than your usual tactics, so you would start by doing better for yourself too.

After maybe an hour and forty minutes of tossing under your duvet, you got up and made your way down the hall to the elevator. This was ridiculous and you were just about done.

You did question though whether this was a good idea as you stood in front of his room, but you knocked anyway. If this was a bad idea, he would tell you. And you could always use the excuse that sleeping in a room without a door was weirdly uncomfortable, which was his fault. Kind of.

Bucky answered right away, a warm glow framing him, that record you had picked before playing quietly in the background.

“I figured we’d cut out the midnight run to each other’s rooms and just start in the same place?” you said, with a shrug.

There was no real way to sugar coat what you wanted, so you didn’t. The trace bits of vulnerability and tiredness in your eyes was enough.

A few beats passed before he opened the door further, inviting you in.

“Makes sense to me.”

_______

He lay there, holding you closer than he’s held anything, feeling your even breath below him. His mind went back to the conversation he had had with Steve today, while you were in the lab going over what happened again to those that had missed it.

“She’s never done this before, you know,” Steve said, keeping pace with Bucky as the two of them ran side-by-side on the indoor track. Y/N had joined him in the morning, and Bucky decided to in the afternoon.

“I know, but she helping, I think," he replied. "I’ve been doing better since she said she’d help. I don’t exactly know what she’s doing, but it’s working so far.”

“No," Steve said, shaking his head as he ran. "I mean turned down a mission- turned down a fight- for someone. Anyone, actually.”

Bucky kept his eyes forward and pace even. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’ve just spent a lot of time together… days actually. Her and I are friends, and we haven’t even done that. It took a long time to crack her shell.”

They slowed down, reaching the end of the track for the twelfth time before hitting a casual walk, out of pace with each other for the first time since they started.

“Hydra has one kind of mold, Steve," Bucky said, voice tight as it always was when Hydra came up. "They force you into it. It’s shared experience, and I don’t have that with anyone else… And besides her, probably never will.”

Steve shook his head yet again. “You aren’t the same, Buck. She was not a silent assassin. You were more death and stealth, you know?"

That stung a little, but Bucky shrugged it off. Steve wouldn’t have done so purposely. And it was true after all.

“She was more… well, I don’t know how to describe it,” His words fell flat, and he looked down.

Bucky sighed, annoyed now. “I know what she was to Hydra, Steve. You don’t think I’ve read up on everyone here by now?”

Steve stopped walking, hands on his knees as he caught his breath, shaking his head.

“A lot wasn’t in the files. At least not the ones we had. Everything was buried deep, maybe not recorded. She wasn’t handled the same way you were. She was more… released. And she remembers it all, Buck.”

“Get to the point, Rogers,” Bucky said through his teeth.

You had worked to get passed your history, and Bucky saw it in your movement, in your voice, in your personality. You were definitively not Hydra anymore. Why could the others- even Steve- not see that you were not the animal they made you anymore?

And to that point, would he ever change in their eyes? Or would he always be labeled the Winter Soldier?

“Her anger is deeper, you’ve seen it," Steve said, voice lower. "Last time she was out in the field you saw her walk up without backup, without anything, and tear apart those men. She called out and invited them to take her on, Bucky. She sang a song so they would find her. Since escaping Hydra that has been her life. Her desire to take them down has been unstoppable.”

“The point.”

“There’s no point here,” He stood up straight. “Just want you to understand where she’s coming from. Who she is. So you understand it’s not all… as easy as things appear to come to her, you know? It’s new for her too.”

“I’ve been where she came from, Steve, and I know who she is. Can we get back running now?”

That conversation played in his head over and over while he laid there with you.

What the hell had been the point?

Steve wasn’t telling him things he didn’t know, he was just spelling it out for Bucky. But why the hell do that? Bucky knew you had a fire and from the look you had taking down those men swiftly and easily, that you liked the fight.

Not that Bucky would run away from one, but he would hate every minute of it, however familiar it seemed. You appeared not feel the same way about it.

And he admired that. Deeply, actually.

You rose above what they made you. You were traumatized with the fight over and over again. But you didn’t cower from them. You stood up to them and have for years. You took the hard way to get what you wanted and you didn’t stop until you had it.

It was a little intense, he thought, remembering the look in your eyes again, but it was a type of intensity he hadn’t experienced himself. And he liked it. A slow smile formed and he shifted his head down slightly to your temple, breathing you in just a little.

You would never let Hyrda back into your life. Bucky clicked into place that you wouldn’t let it happen to him either. You would bulldoze them into oblivion before that would happen. Like you had said that first night, he was safe with you.

And that thought carried him safely to sleep.

_______

It was sometime in the night where it started up again, and it was terrible.

You both clung to and pushed away Bucky in your sleep as he tried to stir you.

This time you were in a cell, crumbled wet concrete, green and dripping walls surrounded you, except for one small barred entryway that you would never be able to reach. It smelt of dirt and blood and Hydra.

“Stop, don’t!” you screamed, pain searing you. “Bucky, stop! Please Bucky, don’t do this!”

The room was freezing and your skin scalded where he touched you. He pressed himself against you and the pain of his metal arm crushing your shoulder, wrist, and ribcage assaulted your nerves.

“No, please stop! Don’t, please!” You screamed and wailed and thrashed, looking only to see a group of eyes in the dark watching you from behind those metal bars.

You wanted to escape desperately, but not to that. Never to them.

But why couldn’t you fight? Why wasn’t your body listening to you? Where the fuck were you and what was happening?

“Y/N, wake up!” you heard in the background. Your eyes opened and there was Bucky, lying on top of you pressing impossibly close and holding you fast.

“No, don’t Bucky, please don’t!” you shrieked, wriggly desperately to get out of his grip. “Stop hurting me, please just stop!”

“Y/N! I’m here, it’s over, look at me!” Your frantic eyes saw him but didn’t want to look at him.

“Then let go!”

“No,” he said a few beats later, sounding stifled and pained himself.

“Please,” you sobbed. “Don’t, please…”

He held you close and whispered in your ear for what felt like an eternity as you faded in and out of understanding- in and out of the dream Bucky and the real Bucky- until reality came creeping back.

It wasn’t real. It was over. Long over. You were at the Tower, you had escaped. It was done. Hydra didn't have you anymore.

Before this you figured there was always a possibility of these specific memories coming back full force to haunt you again. They never really left you of course, but this was different now.

The pain was deeper, the images clearer, with weird details popping in that you had long forgotten. Usually the faces of the people were twisted in nightmarish masks with horrific teeth and childishly bright colours, which made it all the more stomach turning.

But Bucky's attack on you brought you right back to the place you thought you were past. It was so complicated your head couldn’t work it out, so you pushed it down and tried to sink back into dark oblivion.

You looked up to the man holding you steady.

“Bucky,” you breathed, relieved as you knew it was the real Bucky holding you. “It’s you again.”

“Y/N…” His voice was still stifled and tight in his throat. It took him a long time to continue. “Was I… was I the one hurting you this time?”

You closed your eyes, head still turned up to him. That memory turned nightmare happened so long ago. You remembered the happy times you have had since- fighting back, killing those who had hurt you, joining the Avengers, having friends- and where you were now, comfortable and safe and sleepy. The thoughts were so comfortable and peaceful. And you dwelled on them for a long time. You felt your body pull back slowly into unconsciousness, the feeling of his hot skin against yours fading.

“No, you wouldn’t hurt me Bucky… Not you.”

_______

Nat wouldn’t ask pressing questions, that was why you were talking to her. Steve would have been your first choice, but he always had a way to subtly pry and try to get to the heart of the matter, in his own way.

You had spent the morning alone collecting yourself, before apologizing to Bucky for the shock of last night. He had insisted he was sorry, but for what, he didn’t fully know and you didn’t tell him. You left him alone, trying not to think about him or the whole twisted situation you found yourself in now.

“And he’s helping, or hurting at this point?” she questioned, arms crossed in her neutral position as she stood opposite to you in an empty and sleek white hallway.

There was no leaning in her voice on what she thought one way or the other. She was facts based, not emotion based. It was quite a relief to you since you had had enough of emotions lately.

“Helping," you decided on. "I think the hurt would have been unavoidable. Two guesses as to why.”

“He was Hydra,” Nat shrugged, understanding the sentiment just not necessarily the magnitude. “He brings back what you want to leave behind.  What you have left behind. There’s nothing that seems unusual about that.”

“You’re right, completely," you agreed, but she was missing some important facts that you just weren't willing to give. "It’s just… there are things I maybe should be feeling that I’m not? And things I do feel that I don’t think I should.”

You had been struggling with that all morning, but didn’t have the mental or emotional space to keep dealing with it. Right now there just wasn’t a solution.

“Would the problem be solved if that someone were say, assigned to another member of the team? Clint’s getting soft and I could use another sparring partner. Thor’s also been a bit bored. Or we could go full Hulk and really show the Soldier a good time.”

Nat, in her clever, teasing way had assumed two things, which you cleared up.

“Not a problem. Just more complicated than I usually allow?" you said with a half-hearted shrug. "And not unavoidable at any rate. I knew for a long time that this- that he- was coming. And no, I don’t think moving him to someone else would be good… for anyone, really. He’s done enough sparring for a lifetime and if Banner’s mind-numbing science talk doesn’t do him in, the Hulk definitely will.”

Nat gave a look of approval which was a little out of place in your mind but like she never questioned you, you didn’t question her. It reminded you of that smug smile from Steve a few days ago though. Again, that wasn't something that you wanted to know about, so you switched the conversation.

“Talk to me about the bases, I’ve been actively avoiding it for days and need the distraction.”

“We went over a couple days ago and it was abandoned,” Something about how she said it wasn’t quite right though, the look in the redhead's eyes making your brows furrow.

“Made to look that way?” you asked.

“Or staged. Possibly," she shrugged. "Hard to tell.”

“Why do you think?”

“Could be a red herring or distraction. We’ve all been on this fo a while now, save a few keys players," she said, looking at you pointedly a moment. "A lot of Avenger power going into one thing while we wait for bigger things to tackle. Could be to get us out of the way or looking in the wrong place.”

Whatever was going on, it was unusual for Hydra. You felt a familiar fiery burn in your stomach, you hatred for them flaring up briefly.

“Their strategy isn’t my expertise—” you tried to reason.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” she interrupted with yet another pointed look.

“I know their thoughts on a more… individual fight level, I guess," you said. "On an attack level, maybe because I did a lot of the attacking, I could take a solid crack at it and nail them. But this is the higher level strategy I was never much into. If there is anything more at play here.”

“Still, knowing their mind you do have a leg up on the rest of us.”

“Still grounded, just to be clear," you pointed out. You might want to know about it, but you still didn't want to jump into it. "I’m not getting involved, just curious on what the team was up too.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want to get too involved now, would you,” she smirked, clearly talking about something else you couldn't quite decipher.

_______

“He just seems… more miserable today than normal," Steve remarked, his blonde brows pulled together a little.

“Can’t blame that on nightmares, he didn’t have any. Well, not a bad one” you commented, excluding your own nightmare last night and not filling Steve in on why Bucky might be having a rough day… “He’s actually been kind of avoiding me today, so I haven’t really noticed.”

“Ahh,” Steve said, as if that explained everything.

“What do you—”

But you were interrupted by the man in question, walking in with a cup of tea it looked like. He didn’t say a word to either of you, just put the cup down on the bar and slid it across to you, before taking a step back.

Both you and Steve just looked at the hot cup of mint and honey tea in front of you, blank expressions on both of your faces. You and Steve were parked on the bar stools of the big kitchen island late in the evening. You had been there for a bit of time, and there was no way Bucky could’ve made a just-boiled cup a tea without you noticing it.

“Is it… poisoned?” you asked.

Bucky blanched once he registered that the question was serious. “No! There’s no poison in it, I promise.”

“So there’s something else in it,” Steve assumed.

“A bomb?” you questioned again, looking to Steve.

“That would get messy fast.”

“No, not a bomb. It’s tea. Only tea. And a little honey,” Bucky responded a tinge exasperated now.

“But…” you said looking around. “We’re in the kitchen. How did you make this?”

“The lab,” Bucky said, with an eye roll. “I was in the lab, I got bored, saw the bar there which has a kettle, thought you might like tea, made the tea without weaponizing it, then came down, and slid it across the counter to you.”

You stared at it before looking back to Steve, who was now hiding a smile.

Slowly you reached for it and took a small sip of the warm liquid. He had made it exactly how you like it, too.

“Uh, thanks Bucky," you said, looking between the two super soldiers. "That was thoughtful.”

“Okay, good,” Was all he said before walking out, leaving you and Steve in silence.

“I could’ve gone for some tea too actually,” Steve said in a small voice.

PART FOUR

If you read and enjoy this please like, reblog, or somehow let me know! I really would love feedback of any kind!! And really, a massive THANK YOU to all the love I’ve gotten so far, I can’t tell you how much it means

TAGS: @thetimidsarcasticcat