#the entire conversation around bucky owning up to his actions

[wolvietxt]

𝓑UTTERFLIES.

pairing : bucky barnes x fem!reader warnings : light angst, shouting, reader stands up for bucky, kinda open-ended summary : bucky feels weird things in his stomach whenever he thinks about you, he’s convinced he’s getting sick wc : 1.7k a/n : part two here

the avengers tower was a hive of activity. agents scurried in and out, stark’s gadgets beeped incessantly, and the hum of conversations filled the hallways. amidst the chaos, you’d carved out your own little routine - something steady to hold onto in a world that rarely stopped moving. and then there was bucky barnes. he was the quiet one, always on the edges of the action, as though he wasn’t sure where he fit in. you’d noticed him almost immediately when you moved in, not because he tried to stand out, but because he did the opposite.

every morning, he’d shuffle into the kitchen, head down, hair slightly messy from sleep. you’d offer him a soft “good morning,” trying not to sound too eager, and he’d nod or mumble something before retreating to the solitude of the gym or his room. his shyness only made you want to know him more. there was a depth to him, layers you were dying to peel back, but he seemed content - or maybe resigned - to keeping everyone at arm’s length.

still, you didn’t give up. you tried in small ways: leaving him a cup of coffee when you knew he’d be up early, asking if he’d want to join for movie nights, even offering him a quiet corner during team meetings when things got too loud. his answers were always polite but distant. it wasn’t rejection, not really, but it still left you wondering if you’d ever get through to him.

then came the day you overheard something that made your blood boil.

it happened in the common room. you’d been looking for a misplaced file when you caught snippets of a conversation between two junior agents. at first, you thought nothing of it - just the usual chatter that filled the tower. but then you heard bucky’s name, and your attention snapped to them like a rubber band.

“he’s just so… weird,” one of them said, his tone dripping with disdain. “i mean, come on, we’re supposed to trust him? after everything he’s done?”

“seriously,” the other agreed. “it’s like walking on eggshells around him. guy barely talks, and when he does, it’s just… creepy. i don’t know why they keep him around.”

rage bubbled up in your chest, hot and immediate. before you could stop yourself, you stepped into the room, your voice cutting through their laughter like a knife. “who do you think you are?”

the agents froze, their faces draining of color as they realized you’d been listening. one of them tried to stammer an excuse, but you weren’t having it.

“no, i want to know,” you said, your voice steady but sharp. “what gives you the right to talk about him like that? do you have any idea what he’s been through? what he’s overcome? or do you just like tearing people down because it makes you feel better about yourselves?”

they exchanged nervous glances, clearly searching for an exit, but you weren’t finished.

“bucky barnes has more strength in his pinky finger than you’ll ever have in your entire life. and if i hear either of you - either of you - say one more word about him, you’ll be reassigned so fast you won’t have time to pack your desks. understood?”

they mumbled something that sounded like agreement before bolting from the room, leaving you standing there, heart pounding from the adrenaline.

unbeknownst to you, bucky had been standing just around the corner.

he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. he’d been on his way to the common room to grab a bottle of water when he heard your voice. at first, he’d thought you were just talking to someone, but as the words sank in, he realized you were defending him. you were angry - no, furious - on his behalf, and it left him rooted to the spot, unable to move.

no one had ever done that for him before.

days later, the memory still lingered. he couldn’t shake the image of you standing there, fire in your eyes, your voice unwavering. it was as though you’d burned yourself into his mind, and every time he thought about it, his chest tightened. it wasn’t just what you’d said; it was the way you’d said it, with so much conviction it made him feel… something he couldn’t quite name.

that night, he lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. his heart raced, his palms were clammy, and his stomach churned in a way that felt almost… pleasant? but also deeply unsettling. was he getting sick? that seemed impossible - the serum made sure of that. yet the symptoms were undeniable. every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, heard your voice, and felt that strange, fluttering sensation in his chest.

by the next morning, he was convinced something was seriously wrong.

bucky had never been one to dwell on his feelings. survival, duty, and regret had occupied most of his thoughts for as long as he could remember. but now, as he sat on the edge of his bed staring at the floor, he couldn’t ignore the storm swirling inside him. he felt… strange. his chest was tight, his thoughts were scattered, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop replaying the moment he overheard you in the common room.

he should’ve stepped in, said something to those agents himself, but instead, he’d stood there like a coward while you defended him. the memory of your voice, sharp with anger, made his palms sweat. no one had ever spoken up for him like that. people either feared him or avoided him altogether. but you - you’d stood there, unwavering, because you believed he was worth it. the thought made his heart race in a way that felt entirely too unfamiliar.

it had to be some kind of illness, right? he couldn’t be sick - the serum wouldn’t allow it - but what else could explain the way his stomach flipped whenever you were around? or the way his hands fidgeted nervously whenever you said his name? bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. this was ridiculous. he needed answers.

and so, he turned to the only person he trusted to give him the truth.

“steve, something’s wrong with me,” bucky blurted out later that day. they were in the gym, steve halfway through a set of push-ups when bucky’s words made him pause mid-rep.

“wrong?” steve asked, pushing himself to his feet. “what do you mean?”

bucky hesitated, crossing his arms over his chest. “it’s… i don’t know. i’ve been feeling weird lately. my heart’s racing, i can’t think straight, and every time i see - ” he cut himself off, clearing his throat. “never mind. forget it.”

steve’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. “does this have anything to do with a certain someone?”

bucky’s jaw tightened. “what? no. that’s not… that’s not it.”

“sure, buck,” steve said, his tone teasing. “you’re probably just coming down with something.”

bucky narrowed his eyes. “serum, remember? i don’t get sick.”

steve’s smile widened. “exactly.”

bucky scowled, realizing too late that steve wasn’t going to be any help. he mumbled a quick excuse and left, his frustration mounting. if steve wasn’t going to take him seriously, he’d just have to figure this out himself.

next on his list was sam. surely sam would have a straight answer for him.

“ you’re not dying, man,” sam said after bucky cornered him in the kitchen. “although, judging by the way you’re acting, you’d think the world was ending.”

bucky frowned. “i’m not acting any way.”

sam raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh. look, maybe you just need to… i don’t know, talk to someone about it. someone who isn’t me.”

bucky groaned. “you’re no help.”

“at least i’m honest,” sam shot back, smirking as he left bucky alone with his thoughts.

it wasn’t until later that night, during a rare moment of quiet, that bucky found himself seeking out natasha. if anyone could give him a straight answer, it was her. she was sitting in the lounge, flipping through a book, when he approached.

“can i ask you something?” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

natasha glanced up, her expression unreadable. “always.”

bucky shifted awkwardly, his fingers drumming against his thigh. “if… hypothetically… someone couldn’t stop thinking about another person, and it made them feel all… weird inside, what would you call that?”

natasha’s lips twitched, and for a moment, bucky thought she might laugh. but instead, she closed her book and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “weird how?”

bucky struggled to find the words. “just… weird. like, heart-racing, can’t-think-straight, stomach-doing-flips kind of weird.”

natasha studied him for a long moment, her gaze sharp and assessing. “sounds like you’ve got it bad.”

bucky blinked. “got what?”

she smirked. “you’ll figure it out.”

and just like that, she returned to her book, leaving bucky more confused than ever.

over the next few days, bucky’s “symptoms” only seemed to worsen. he found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t explain. the way you smiled, the sound of your laugh, even the little things you did - like leaving a cup of coffee on the counter for him - made his chest ache in the best possible way. it was maddening.

finally, in a last-ditch effort to make sense of what was happening, he sought out wanda. if anyone could give him clarity, it was her.

wanda listened patiently as bucky explained his predicament, her expression calm and composed. when he finished, she tilted her head, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“bucky,” she said gently, “you’re not sick.”

he frowned. “but - ”

“you’ve got a crush,” she said simply.

bucky’s heart stopped. “a crush?”

wanda nodded. “yes. and from the sound of it, it’s about time you did something about it.”

bucky stared at her, his mind racing. the idea felt foreign, almost impossible. but as he thought about you - the way you’d stood up for him, the way you’d always looked and spoken to him with so much warmth and understanding - he realized wanda was right.

ᰔ bucky barnes : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid

@yvespecially, @hhiggs, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd, @superlegend216

@withasideofmeg, @pvndomi, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @bbittenapples, @hazydespair

@aoi_targaryen, @person-005, @corvuscattus

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[alienoresimagines]

S'Cute | Buck x Bucky

I have been absolutely consumed by thoughts since this video where you can hear John saying "S'cute" before grabbing Gale's chin so I had to do something about it and write a lil thingie about John being drunk and in love 🥹❤️

Also on AO3

Gale is a quiet presence next to him but his joy shines so bright John can see nothing but him. They're all seated around a table- Veal, Bubbles, Croz, Jack, Curt, Gale and him, and three RAF guys who've been trying to get under their skin since the beginning of the night- but all John can focus on is the familiar buzz of alcohol and the burning warmth of Gale's fingers against his shoulder blade where Gale rests his arm on the back of John's chair.

Every time the alcohol makes his head swim, words flying over him as he feels like floating, the press of slender fingers on his back is enough to bring him back into his own body, head turning to his left with a smile he can't reign in. Is that how sunflowers feel when they rise up to follow the sun?

Perhaps he's had too much to drink. On the back of his mind, he knows he shouldn't gaze so openly at Gale, sure all the love he bears for the man is drawn plainly on his face. But when he can't control his hand and he finds himself resting one broad palm on Gale's thigh under the table, the other doesn't pull away nor give him a look reminding him of the unwanted company on the other end of the table. Instead, Gale's knee nudges closer to him until their legs knock together, and Gale's entire body angles towards him. John has no choice but to face the three RAF pilots ahead of him if he doesn't want to do something that would definitely be crossing a line of public decency- like pulling Gale closer to his chest or on his lap. The fact that he is now not completely sure Gale would protest the action is  decidedly a distraction, and John has to sit on his other hand to act on the urge to reach and touch, and kiss Gale until the other can do nothing but sigh and-

So in his head trying to will his body back under control and his mind out of the gutter, he half-heartedly follows the conversation- something about him singing? He can do that, he's sung to Gale plenty of times- until Curt's voice reaches him, the familiar accent pulling him away from the inviting warmth of Gale's body, so tantalizingly close to his.

"If you want to get Major Egan excited? Baseball!" That brings a bout of awareness through the buzz that he isn't sure is caused by the alcohol anymore. The warmth spreading from his chest to his very toes whenever he looks at Gale, happiness radiant on his face, makes him feel he could never touch a drop of alcohol ever again and still be constantly drunk.

"And especially, the Yankees!" John likes baseball but Gale doesn't. Gale doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, doesn't bet, and doesn't like sports. John has never loved anyone more.

"My buddy, Buck, here, he doesn't like sports, he thinks they're a waste of time don'tcha?" He turns back to Gale, because the two seconds he looked away for were torture on his heart, a pull edging him to always have Gale in his sight, at arm's reach.

Gale is already looking at him, eyes bright and fond and loving, the golden light of the pub shining in his hair and creating perfect shadows on an already perfect face.

He's cute.

Gale's eyes widen a bit, a blush immediately finding its way onto his cheeks, and it's only then John realizes he’d spoken out loud. Alcohol made the words slur a bit in his mouth, coming out more as "S'cute" than an appropriate sentence but still Gale heard him. Now ducking his head shyly, a small pleased smile on his face, golden hair perfectly styled making him glow among the rest of them, he looks so sweet and handsome, and he's all Bucky's to love.

Suddenly, resting his hand on Gale's thigh isn't enough. He needs to touch his face, feels the warmth of his blush on his fingers. So, with one hand he does, reaching up until his fingers rest on Gale'd cheek for a second, before gently grabbing his chin. The touch lingers for more than it should have, but it's still too short in John's opinion. His fingertips tingle where he felt Gale's heated cheeks, and he wants nothing more than to cup his face again and pepper it with kisses. Watching the flushed look on Gale's face, the amused glint in his eyes, and the fond quirk of his mouth almost makes him do it, the world all but forgotten around him. But Gale raises his eyebrows in a quick yet teasing reminder as he brings his toothpick to his lips and John can only grin brighter, even if his cheeks have started hurting from how wide Gale makes him smile.

John would fight a hundred wars, cross a thousand hells for that man. So long as his heart beats, it will beat for the man seated next to him,  whose smile holds all the wonders of John's world.

My other Clegan Fics

[gaysindistress]

Cocaine Jesus - Part 3 of Fine Line

Pairing: Mafia!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: you know the drill; angst, mentions of abuse, vague descriptions of abuse, the feels, Peggy Carter andddd John Walker slander

Word count

Master list

Fine Line & Dial Drunk

Word count: 4.3k

Tag list: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom @zaraomarrogers @deafeningvoidcloud

a/n: you guys - "I need you to promise me that you'll give Honey and Steve a happy ending.

me -"I promiseeeeed other people that I'd write all the angst possible and I gave 'em my word sooooooo"

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

The letter read the most ridiculous thing that she has ever seen. A poor excuse, a failed lie, a fucked up story, a concoction of rumors mashed together to make something out of nothing. He left it on her bed without a second word to her, a word to her parents, and walked straight out of her life. He left the letter detailing every single lie he could’ve thought of for the last 48 hours on her bed, on her pillow to be specific like some fucked up love story you read about in high school. She always joked that they might be Romeo and Juliet but this? 

This? 

His actions were far beyond anything that Shakespeare might’ve thought of. 

“I used you to cheat on Peggy but we’re getting married so this has to end. Goodbye, Steve.” 

One single sentence to end a relationship that they had talked about that could last for years. One single sentence that shattered everything that she thought to be true and concrete in her life. 

One sentence to take everything she’s been looking forward to drowned in it in her own tears. 

She threw the letter into the fire, with tears streaming down her face, and a vengeance as she stared at the flames. Ashes of the relationship flooded around her, but a shard of light called her attention. On her nightstand is the picture of them from that first night; a polaroid of two bright and smiling faces, so hopeful that life will be OK. You already know the story behind the picture, but in the wake of the letter, she contemplated destroying that picture and any memory of Steve she could find. A part of her wouldn’t let her burn it so instead she slipped it into her nightstand and crawled into a ball on the floor to cry. 

That night she slipped into adulthood and decided never again would she allow herself to be fooled by men like Steve Rogers. 

“Hey doll, where would you like me to start?” Bucky gently calls over to her as she stares around the room around her her entire life from birth to know I haven’t packed up into boxes and is laying like a field of memories around them. 

“I don’t know. I guess just pick up one and start putting them in the truck?”

But he gives her a no and does what she says; picking one box up and hauling it out to the truck. Her mom had helped her pack, shuffling through all the items that she felt like her dear daughter no longer needed. Her mother, Lauren, knew not to touch anything in the nightstand. She had seen the polaroid some nights after Steve’s week departure and figured that her daughter had hidden in the picture in the nightstand. She had liked Steve and talked to her husband many nights about how she had hoped that maybe one day he would be the one to harness that wild spirit within her daughter. Having known the Rogers since practically birth herself, it was a shock that Sarah had let something like this happen. Lauren had tried to get her husband to say something to Mr. Rogers however, nothing came of the conversations, but frustration and misplaced anger. She didn’t think that she nor her husband would ever be able to give the Rogers the time of day after this. It was a miracle to even get Bucky in the house given their new sentiment towards the Rogers.

Bucky chose to keep his words to himself and only offered her sad smiles or gentle hugs. He was so unbelievably pissed at Steve when he found out when it happened because they had known since his return that he would be forced to marry Peggy. On that Fourth of July night, he urged Steve to let go of this honey, to give her a chance but he refused. He was selfish like that sometimes, taking and taking from everyone around him, because it made him feel better. It caused many fights between the two childhood friends seeing as Bucky had taken a liking to her too. It was fun for him; the girls, the wine, and the weed. Nothing that Bucky could say would make him stop because he has always got what he wanted and Bucky was forever indentured to him so his hands were tied. His own father was in the same position as him, but to the older Mr. Rogers. So he watched on the sidelines as Steve ruined yet another young girl's life with his charm. 

When Bucky had walked back into the room, he sensed a shift in the air as she kneeled in front of her nightstand, frozen in time she held that stupid portrait in her hands and gawked at it as if she saw a ghost. Every ounce of life and color drained from her face as she held this momento of pain in her hand. It burned him to not just rip it from her hands and destroy it for her. He wanted to give her everything that she had been promised and so much more but he knew that if he did that he would risk the wrath of Steve. He knew that if he tried to give her any ounce of comfort, Steve would know and make his life a living hell. He already had enough control over Bucky’s life and he didn’t want to give him another reason to be even more controlling.

Instead of doing what his heart screamed at him to do he gently placed his hand on her shoulder so she would know that he was there for her if she needed. She brought it as if burned by his touch and quickly dropped off, turning slightly to look at him. He saw the tears in her eyes, and he gathered her into his arms for a death grip hug. One hand snuck into her hair, and held her head against his chest, as the other gripped her tightly, as if to provide her with all the physical comfort that she could ever need as her body shook from the sobs, a wet spot forms on his shirt and his own throat tightened at the feeling resolves quickly turned from that of a heart broken woman to those gut, wrenching gasps of a person experiencing true agony. The sound stopped leaving her mouth, and her body heaved in efforts to keep up with the demand for air. Her knees buckled and they dropped to the floor together in a heap of tears and bones.

“I got you, doll. I won’t let you go. I promise.” 

His words seemed to make her cries worse, but her arms wrapped around him and her hands Claude into the back of his shirt. She was gripping him as tight as he gripped her, the strength of their shared misery, keeping them together. 

“I got you. It’s okay. Let it out.” 

“After this, we can’t see each other.” 

Once again, the boxes of her life scattered around them as they ate Chinese food and settled into her small apartment. 480 square feet of nothing but everything that she could possibly think of. She drops the chopsticks, flinging rice and vegetables everywhere when she hears the words come out of his mouth.

“I don’t… what?”

I just don’t think that it’s a good idea for us to hang out because…”

“ I swear to god if you tell me that Steve had anything to do with this I will actually kill him.”

He gives a sad laugh and looks down at his feet, “ doll. I don’t know what to tell ya.”

“You can start by answering my question. Did Steve have anything to do with us?” 

He refuses to answer her question and won’t meet her eyeline. That’s all the answer she needs though. Steve had yet again ruined another chance for her to be happy and this time he wasn’t even there to do it. 

She slummed against the couch and almost dropped the food container on the floor with disbelief. She stares ahead and says nothing. She can’t say anything. Nothing she could possibly think of would make this moment feel any better than it does.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky mumbles as he drops a light kiss onto her forehead and walks out of her life. 

Once again, that Polaroid staring back at her as it peeks out of the top of the box it’s in. All she can see is the fireworks, but she knows what the picture is. She knows the curse that inevitably brings, but she can’t throw it away. 

She won’t. 

“You know, my apartment is bigger and you wouldn’t have to get rid of anything,” the blonde jokes as he lugs another donation bag out of her room. 

Y/N shakes her head while she sorts more of her things, deciding what can go to D.C. with her and what stays behind with the rest of her past. 

“But you’re here and I’m going to be 4 hours away. How is that supposed to work?” she calls after him. 

“I wasn’t talking about my old place.”

She cocks her head but continues to focus on the task at hand, “Yeah your old place would be like a 5 hour drive on a good day.”

“Look at me, gorgeous.”

When she turns to look at him, he’s leaning against the door frame with a set of keys in his hand and a smile wide across his face. She gives him an even more confused look. He shakes them before tossing them to her. Turning over the keys in her hand, she spots a key chain that reads “I heart D.C.”

“I don’t…” she pauses for a moment, “Oh my god you got the job?!”

“I sure did. I start in a week which means…” he trails off and his smile grows even bigger. She jumps up and hugs him so tightly that he stumbles back. 

“That’s so exciting, John! I’m so proud of you,” she all but exclaims holding him against her and the excitement vibrates off of her. 

“Thank you, gorgeous,” he whispers as he takes her chin in his hand and tilts so their lips meet, “But that’s not even the best part. I had your landlord put us on the same lease and get us a bigger place.”

She stills and pulls away, “You did what?”

“Don’t be like that. Be happy that we’re both moving up in our careers and we’re moving to a new city. You even said it yourself; if I moved with you, we’d move in together.”

Nervously chuckling, she nods her head, “Oh I just wasn’t expecting it so soon, I guess.”

“What? You have a secret boyfriend or something?” tension fills his voice at her hesitation. 

“No, no! It’s just a lot of info at once, that’s all,” she tries to reason and it seems to calm what storm was brewing. 

John lets out a deep laugh and kisses her once more before letting her go. 

“Good because I saw this,” he says, pulling out that god forsaken polaroid from his back pocket, “And got a little worried.”

Her smile freezes once more and she scrambles to come up with something, “Oh that’s an old family friend that’s all.”

“You look awful… close.”

“Just friends… well not even that anymore,” she tells John as she returns back to her cleaning, “You can just put it in a box.”

John hums but it’s filled with dismay as he debates ripping it to see her reaction. He’s not stupid, he could tell that whoever the man in the picture was, he meant something to Y/N and it was beyond just old friends. He takes a picture of it to send to a cop friend of his and slips it back into his pocket. He’s going to figure out who this man was and erase him from Y/N’s life. 

Five days later John gets his answer. 

Steve Grant Rogers, born July 4 19xx to Sarah and Joseph Rogers in Brooklyn, NY. Married to Margaret Carter Rogers. No known criminal record or alises. Father has a lengthy record and is suspected to be the current leader of the Rogers crime family. Steve is expected to be take over when Joseph dies. 

John’s jaw clenches when he reads the emails and closes his computer. Anger licks up his spine at the thought of his sweet Y/N being at all connected to this criminal let alone as close as she appeared to be. Almost immediately his anger is drowned out when she walks through the door of their new apartment, arms full of groceries. 

“Here, gorgeous, let me get that for you.”

Time flies by when you’re having fun or at least that’s what they tell everyone. Y/N hadn’t thought about that Polaroid since John brought it up. She assumed that he did as he was told, and just slipped into another box. She didn’t even question it when she hadn’t found it when they were unpacking. Time really did seem to heal her wounds and Steve had finally left her mind. Nearly 5 years after he’d left her heartbroken and angry, she finally was able to forget the hold he had on her. Even though she’d briefly tried to start something with Bucky, John Walker had been the one to show her what love meant… or at least what his version was. 

Her new friends in D.C. had warned her about the red flags they’d seen but Y/N dismissed them. She felt she knew him better after all they’d been together for three years and were engaged. She always brushed it off as them being unhappy in their own relationship or John just had a bad day or he wasn’t always like this. It had gotten to the point where her own mother Lauren started to point out the concerning things she saw; however, it wasn’t until her three year anniversary dinner that it all came to a head. 

John had suggested they go back to New York for a little getaway considering how stressful their jobs and wedding planning were. He’d made reservations at one of the finest restaurants on the Upper East Side along with staying in one of his friend’s condos. Everything had been perfect; champagne, rose petals, quiet instrumental music, and two people fighting in the bedroom. 

“I can’t believe you! You’re such a fucking asshole!” She shouted at him from the bedroom as he continued to get ready. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he calmly responded, fixing his tie. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, John.” 

“No I don’t.”

“You had Joaquin look into Steve.”

“I did so what,” he leveled a very stern gaze towards her through the bathroom mirror. 

“And you didn’t tell me for 2 years.”

“So what?” He said even lower than before but finally turned to look at Y/N, “why does it matter if I looked into your little boyfriend?”

“What are you talking about?” She huffed, back straightening as chills began to run down her spine. 

“I know about you and Steve. You didn’t want me to know so YOU lied to me about it so what was I supposed to do? Ignore it? I wouldn’t be a very good fiancé, husband even if I ignored my gut when it comes to you.”

“You’re seriously trying to say that you were concerned about me? I would’ve told you anything you wanted to know, you didn’t have to have someone get a whole ass police background check,” she tried to reason and to defuse the situation. She could sense the anger and aggression boiling under John’s skin no matter how calm and collected he seemed in the moment. 

He ignored her, instead fixing the cuffs of his jacket and shirt. Waiting and making her think he was ignoring her was his favorite tactic to get under her skin. 

“I didn’t lie to you, I would never do that,” she tried again whilst taking small steps towards him. 

“I care so much about you, gorgeous,” he started, closing the gap before engulfing her in a bone crushing hug, “Steve is a dangerous man, so much more dangerous than you could ever imagine.” 

She gasped at the pressure he was putting on her, “John you’re hurting me.” 

His grip loosened for a moment before he spun her around so she could look in the mirror. One of his hands looped around her shoulders and the other found its place around her neck. Her own hands flew to his wrist and she began to claw at his wrist as he dropped his head so he could speak directly into her ear. 

“I am the only person who can protect you from him. Me,” he punctuated the words with a tightening grip, “I’m disappointed that you didn’t tell me about him, gorgeous. I can’t have a lying wife and you know that; I need someone who is completely loyal to me. Do you think you can do that?” 

Tears fell down her face, ruining the makeup she’s just finished putting on as she rapidly nodded her head. Satisfied he dropped her and let her fall forward to catch herself on the bathroom door frame. 

“Clean up, we’re leaving in 15 minutes,” he whispered into her ear before leaving the room. Once she knew she was alone, she scrambled to grab her phone and dialed a number she’d hoped to never dial again. 

“Doll?” The voice answered with confusion. 

She cried even harder when Bucky picked up and she choked on her words, “I need your help please. I’ll pay you anything, everything. Please just… please.”

“Doll what is it? Where are you?”

“I’ll send you the address but you have to come quickly. Hide in the alley and I’ll figure out how to get there.”

“Of course, do you want me to call HIM?”

“No,” she barely held back the next wave of sobs at the thought and hung up. 

She took a few deep breaths, calming her nervous system before standing to fix her makeup. Within minutes, she’s managed to make herself look presentable to John’s standards. However she’d exchanged her heels for flats in hopes that if she did have to make a run for it, she wouldn’t break her ankle. 

Her phone pinged beside her, alerting her that Bucky would be at the restaurant when they got there and was in the back alley like she’d asked. 

“I’ll be right back. Can you order me the salmon if I’m back when they take our order?” she sweetly smiled at John as she got up. 

He gave her that sick PR smile he used on his sponsors and went back to reading the menu. 

Y/N’s body shook as she got closer and closer to the bathroom. On her way she stopped their waitress, a younger red headed woman that John had been relentlessly rude to. The woman smiled and stopped her by gently grabbing her arm to pull her closer. 

“Go through the kitchen and out the back door. He’s waiting for you,” she whispered to Y/N. Fear ran through her body again as she stared wildly at her. 

“Go. Bucky hates waiting around,” she smirked before releasing her arm and guiding her into the kitchen. The red head waved a hand at Y/N as if to shoo away a child and pointed to a set of doors that she assumed led outside. 

She mouthed thank you and ran for the doors, pushing them open with all her might. Before her was a blacked out SUV and a smiling Bucky in the backseat. He had opened the door when she came bursting out. 

“Get in Doll.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She climbed in and sunk into the leather as the car pulled away. 

“Where to?” He asked after they’d gotten away from the restaurant. 

“Somewhere safe.”

Bucky nodded as he tapped the driver on the shoulder and said something to him. She didn’t register what address he gave him because fatigue took over her body and she drifted off into the abyss of sleep. 

10 years. 

10 years since she’d been home, seen family, spoken to her friends. 

10 years since she’d left John in that restaurant and gotten into the car with Bucky. 

It had been 10 years since she’d gained her freedom but at the cost of a normal life. 

During that time, Bucky and Natasha, the waitress from that night, had hidden her and kept her in some sort of witness protection program. Bucky knew of John’s reputation and knew that the only way to guarantee Y/N’a safety was for her to disappear. He’s made her a ghost, changing everything about her so that no one could find her aside from him and Natasha. Of course going into hiding meant she had literally no other connections but the two of them. 

Nat had offered her a job working alongside her as an executive assistant to Bucky and another man named Sam Wilson. Bucky had assured her that he didn’t work for Steve anymore and she wouldn’t see him. His promise did little to quell her fears but she trusted him nonetheless. 

It became clear pretty quickly after she went into hiding that John had no idea where she went but he kept looking. Her family had been told about the situation but everyone else was kept in the dark, which made John even more furious. His efforts to find her had been in vain and roughly around the 4th year of no results he stopped looking. Regardless she remained hidden because at this point, she’d lived most of her adult life this way. Y/N didn't really know anything outside of the world that she’s created but that’s not to say she was naive. Of course working as the assistant to a mob boss, she wasn’t oblivious to the real world. In fact she probably understood it better than most, she simply preferred her world. 

It had been nearly 15 years by now since she’d seen Steve. Occasionally she’d see his name on paperwork from Bucky’s time working under him. Other than that, there had been nothing. Peggy, on the other hand, she’d seen far too often between events, galas, and even in Bucky’s office. Y/N doubted that the woman remembered her, let alone knew who she was so she didn’t let it phase her when she saw her. Natasha was quick to fill her in on all of the gossip if she wanted but it was usually the same; Peggy cheated with the same two men, Steve found out and would threaten divorce but it never came to fruition because she would claim she was pregnant. Spoiler alert she never was but if she made a big enough deal about it, Steve would have to reconcile with her to save his and his family’s reputation. 

However this round of accusations and threats seemed to stick; Steve had actually filed for divorce and demanded a paternity test if she was, in fact, pregnant. Of course she wasn't, hence why they were fighting in the lobby of Bucky’s office. Natasha chuckles under her breath at their petty words and glances over to Y/N. 

“You ready?” She asks as she gathers her own things. 

“Can we even get out? It sounds like they’re literally at the door.” 

Before Natasha can answer, Bucky walks in followed by the arguing couple. They’re shouting so many things at each other that no one can keep track of what they’re actually arguing about. 

“Oh fucking believe me. I can’t wait for this divorce to be over. Maybe I’ll stop getting so many fucking STDs,” Steve shouts as he slammed the door behind himself. 

Peggy scoffs as she crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head. 

“Yeah that’s right. Don’t say anything because you know I’m right,” he scoffs back, dropping himself onto the couch Nat and Bucky had christened several times. 

Y/N winces at his loud voice and turns around so that her back is to them. She grabs whatever paperwork she can and shoves it into her bag. 

Nat clears her throat and whispers, “Let’s go.” 

She loops her arm in Y/N’s and bids everyone a goodbye. Dropping a kiss on Bucky’s cheek, she tries her hardest to sneak the other woman out before Steve can see her. As soon as they’re out the door, they hear exactly what they’re afraid of. 

“I swear to god, Buck, if that was Y/N, I will execute you right here, right now.”

Nat stiffens for a moment but quickens her pace and practically drags Y/N along with her to get them out as soon as possible. Steve’s booming voice chases after them and they make eye contact as the two women climb into the elevator. Before the doors close, Y/N can see the absolute heartbreak and pain that’s written across his face. 

She doesn’t care though. 

He’d done the exact same to her. 

She’d gotten a few weeks of privacy before the oaf of a man came knocking at her door. The day had been rainy like the week prior and she kept to herself inside. Y/N had always loved the rain no matter where she was at because it reminded her that the earth could renew itself after a storm. However her peace is shattered when she hears the familiar sound of a luxury car pulling up in front of her house. Grabbing the gun Bucky stashed for her, she goes to peek out of the window to see her worst nightmare walking up. 

Albeit it’s Steve and not John, she still tucked the gun back into its place before answering the door. 

One knock. 

Two knocks. 

Three knocks. 

She opens it and her breath hitches in her chest at the sight. 

“What are you doing here?” 

The first words that came to her mind after 15 years of nothing at all. 

[x-just-another-fanfic-writer-x]

The Neighbour Down The Hall

Chapter 7

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: A night out after work leads to another unplanned stay with your tall, dark and handsome neighbour down the hall

Word count: 1.7k

AO3

Your late nights continued into the following week. You came home that Sunday from a long lunch with a few old co-workers now turned friends, the strange marijuana smell still lingering in the flat. But it also mingled with the smell of fried chicken. It was so bad that after giving Justin a quick greeting, choosing to ignore the dirt underneath his fingernails, you changed into your gym clothes and went downstairs for two hours. Partly to avoid a conversation with your boyfriend which would no doubt aggravate you, partly on the off chance you’d see Bucky, but mainly because you just wanted to be alone.

The first couple of days that week were bad enough, you were tired from staying at work late as well as continuing your early morning gym routine on top of that. You were tired of biting back scathing comments you wanted to make to Justin about why the hell you noticed a bit of soil on the floor of your literally plantless apartment. By Thursday, you felt particularly rough. You arrived back around 11pm, exhausted and coming down from a sugar rush after scoffing an entire packet of wine gums on the train home.

“Seems like this is becoming a habit,” Bucky called up from a flight of stairs below.

“I know, it's late,” you said, slowing down so he could catch up.

“Didn't you leave early this morning too?” he replied, oddly quickly by your side.

“…yeah…” you said with resignation as you opened the door to the corridor and waited for him to go first. He seemed momentarily perplexed at your action before stepping through. You walked towards your own front door, but Bucky followed. You looked up at him, now you were perplexed.

“You’re burning the candle at both ends, Jess.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly at his perception. “It's fine,” you shrugged.

Bucky pursed his lips. “Doesn’t seem fine.”

“What’s it to you anyway?” you challenged, your tiredness making you more argumentative than usual.

Bucky raised his hands in surrender. “It’s not anything to me. I’m just saying.”

“Well… I appreciate the concern but keep your sayings to yourself.”

He sighed. “Alright.”

You hovered, you wanted to talk to the man more, but weren’t sure what to actually say. You inhaled a deep breath, catching a whiff of his cologne. “I umm-” you began. Think of something you begged yourself. “Do you always wear gloves?” you blurted out, regretting the words before they even left your mouth.

“It’s cold out,” he replied nonchalantly. 

“You wear them in your apartment too,” you pointed out quietly. His expression remained neutral, his eyes boring into yours. After too long of a silence, you fished your key from your pocket.

“You should consider slowing down,” he muttered as he stalked off to his front door.

You didn’t understand what that was about, but you didn’t take his advice. 

The next day you were invited for drinks after work with your female colleagues. A rare event, one you for sure wouldn’t turn down. Drinks with Ellie, Charlotte, Lily, and Barbara (admittedly Barbara was a bit older than the rest of you) were always fun. You left most of your belongings and valuables that you didn’t want to carry around behind in the office, locked in your desk cabinet. You even left your coat. You were fully intending on coming back to pick up your stuff. You were just going for a drink, you were only going to be out 2 hours, maximum. The bar was just round the corner. Just one drink.

How that turned into a full night out you have no idea.

You stumbled out of the cab and walked haphazardly into the building lobby, too drunk to notice how cold it was. You groaned as you reached the bottom of the stairs, then stumbled up, snickering to yourself. By the time you reached the top, you were desperate to just sleep. And pee. And drink some bloody water. You stood, or rather swayed, outside your front door, fumbling for your keys.

“No no no no no,” you muttered, frantically searching your pockets. “Not again,” you groaned loudly. You could have sworn you brought them with you to the bar- then you remembered. No… you left them at work, figuring they’d be ‘safer’ locked in the cabinet than in your stupidly shallow trouser pockets.

You sighed and looked around the deserted corridor. You didn’t want to do it… You already felt guilty and awkward after the man let you stay the last time. But it was almost 3 am, and Justin was hundreds of miles away visiting friends that weekend. If Bucky saw you sitting outside the flat again, like this, he’d probably be pissed you didn't ask for help. You quietly approached his door, maybe he would be out? Maybe he wouldn’t have to know?

You knocked quietly, and within a second Bucky opened the door. His hair was slightly disheveled and he clearly needed a shave, but his blue eyes were bright. 

“Jess?” he asked quietly, taking in your appearance.

“Hey, I’m so sorry. I umm… I don’t have my key and yeah it’s a bit ridiculous, my home is right there and I can’t get… so can I…” you trailed off when in the sliver of the door crack, you spotted the legs of someone sitting on his sofa. Female legs. You looked back up to Bucky, his expression unreadable. “If now’s a bad time I can…” you pointed behind you as you began to stumble backwards, awkwardly.

“No, she was leaving,” he said, looking at you even more concerned as you wobbled on your feet.

A petite red head suddenly appeared at the door, smiling slyly as she looked up at Bucky and slipped past. Her black skin tight outfit left nothing to the imagination.

“Remember what I said. See you around Buck,” she said. Another American? She turned and looked you up and down, judgmentally, before sauntering down the hallway. Bucky let out a small sigh, then ushered you inside.

“You’re drunk,” he stated.

“How do you know?”

“You’re stumbling and I can smell it.”

“Oh,” you murmured, then tried to subtly sniff your clothes. It apparently wasn’t that subtle, as you heard Bucky snort gently. You looked up to see his eyes glinted with amusement.

“Sit down before you fall down,” he instructed, and gently put his hand on your back to guide you to the sofa. You plopped down and hiccuped. “How did you forget your keys this time?”

“I left them in the office before-” you hiccuped again “before we went out for drinks.”

“You came home without your coat in this weather?” he gently scolded.

“‘S fine,” you mumbled, waving a dismissive hand. You heard him sigh before you felt something soft being placed over your shoulders. “You own a blanket?” 

“Yeah I own a blanket.”

“Cause your flat’s like super bare,” you drunkenly pointed out. When he didn’t reply for a beat you continued. “Like- like I’d have thought you’d have more stuff by now or maybe if you don’t it means…”

“Means what?” he gently probed. You didn’t detect the shift in his tone.

“I dunno means you’re up to something shaddyyyy,” you replied in a sing-song tone.

“And why would I be up to something shady?” he asked quietly.

You shrugged. “Can I use your bathroom?” you blurted out, then without waiting for an answer you stood up, letting the blanket fall to the couch. You stumbled towards where you thought the room was.

“On the left,” Bucky called out to you as you hovered, staring into the door to his bedroom. It was somehow even more bare, yet neat. But nature called too strongly for you to look any longer, and you practically slammed the door to the bathroom shut behind you. You tried to take in details of the room there too, but your head was spinning and a headache was forming. Once you were finished, you stumbled back to the sofa, and sank unceremoniously down onto it.

“Do you smoke weed?” you asked, glancing around the flat once again.

“No,” Bucky answered, then sighed. “Why?”

You shrugged. “My boyfriend said maybe you did.”

“And where is this boyfriend of yours?”

“He’s- he’s with friends,” you mumbled, lying back against the couch.

“I see,” he replied quietly whilst you pulled the blanket around yourself again. “You really should get a spare key.”

“And who’s gonna keep it, you?” you retorted with a scoff.

“You got no one else nearby?”

You yawned. “Yeah but like the opposite side of the city.” You were finding it increasingly hard to keep your eyes open. “Do you have anyone nearby?”

“No,” he replied quietly.

“Who was that red head?” you asked as you closed your eyes.

“A passing visit.”

“Uh huh,” you drawled, not believing him. “She was pretty.”

“She is,” he agreed softly, and you opened an eyelid. He was gazing out of his window. 

“Is she from back home?”

“I don’t have a home,” he murmured. You frowned at the bluntness of the statement, wondering what it could mean.

“W-what about a family?” you whispered, and even through your drunk haze you knew you were treading on thin ice.

“No family either.”

Your frown deepened and you sat up, opening both eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he muttered. 

After a few beats, you spoke again. “Why did you move here?”

But abruptly, Bucky stood up. “You should get some rest,” he said quietly. 

Guilt settled uneasily in your stomach as you realised you crossed a line. You watched Bucky walk quietly away and mumbled out a ‘I'm sorry’ that you doubt he heard. His bedroom door shut softly and you groaned, hating yourself for your line of questioning as you closed your eyes. You felt dizzy again, and flopped onto your side on the sofa. You tried to think about how you could make things right, why he reacted like that, but you were too drunk still to stay awake, and before you knew it, you passed out.

Next chapter

[jeonstellate]

ocean waves & faded dreams — shore ix

the avengers watch the beginning of johan’s trauma.

⚝༄ platonic!bucky barnes x original character (ft. platonic!tony stark x original character)

⚝༄ language; mentions of trespassing & kidnapping; depictions of murder

⚝༄ paragraph format — 1.1K words

masterlist | ow&fd masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

⚝༄ think everything in bold is in russian.

There was no warning.

One moment the Avengers were in their tower, basked in light and familiarity, but then . . . they weren’t.

All of a sudden, they were inside a luxurious high-rise apartment. With a glance, they were quick to notice how the day room they materialized in had floor-to-ceiling windows — with a view overlooking the city below. The next thing they took a note of was the furniture, specifically how it had a notable theme of white accented with emerald green and gold.

"Where are we?" Scott asked as he looked around, assessing his surroundings. Next to him, the rest were doing something similar. "Did we just trespass into someone’s home?"

"Not just anyone’s," Bucky answered, directing everyone else’s attention toward the wall decorated with picture frames. "It’s Johan’s."

"She looks so different," Pietro commented while observing the hanged pictures up close. "I could barely see the resemblance."

Sam joined Pietro by the wall. He tilted his head in slightly different angles to give himself a new perspective on each of the photos. "How did you even recognize her right away?"

"The picture on the bottom," Bucky supplied, his voice once again had a subtle softness mixed in it. The same very tone they all heard him use when he talked to the kid agent. "She looked like that when I first met her."

"You mean," Bruce began in disbelief, "Kid was around that age when HYDRA took her?"

Before Bucky could answer, a young voice suddenly filled the comfortable silence in the apartment — effectively startling the band of heroes.

"Mommy, can Uncle Sage build me a Transformer Sera?" It came from the blanket fort in the middle of the living room. In their daze with the displayed photographs, they had forgone their instincts as seasoned field agents: that was, to inspect their surroundings as thoroughly as they could to avoid any surprises.

Everyone shared a look, slightly frozen. It was silent when they materialized in the room, thus they mistakenly assumed that the apartment was empty. It didn’t help that no one interrupted their conversation in panic of being broken into, either.

"This is a memory," Wanda saved her teammates from another second of overthinking. "We don’t exist in it."

"A Transformer Sera?" Another voice inside the fort replied, curious. "What for?"

"I wanna be like Iron Man!" The first voice responded almost immediately, her excitement apparent. "I wanna drive the robot when I don’t wanna fly."

"Okay, little Stark." Everyone unconsciously looked at Tony then, but he didn’t meet their eyes as he kept his steady on the blanket fort. "You can ask your Uncle Sage when he drops by."

The celebration that followed suit was cut short by the sound of the doorbell ringing through the entire apartment. Not a moment later, a woman emerged from the structurally-sound fort.

Her resemblance to Agent Johan Collins was uncanny. With a single glance, it was obvious that Kid — as she permitted the Avengers to call her — inherited most of her features from her. With the exception of her green eyes and red hair, as opposed to the latter’s dark eyes and black hair, she was essentially the older version of the twelve-year-old they met.

Most of the Avengers recognized her, much to their own astonishment. "Her mother’s Dawn Collins?" And, really, how could they not? Her disownment from her family following her resignation as her father’s heiress was all over the news then, trumping whatever ‘breaking news’-worthy actions Tony did for months. Not that it was a good publicity of any kind, as the media soon dubbed her as the face of disinheritance.

"You know her?" Steve spoke for the rest who weren’t aware of what occupied the news before the last decade.

Rhodey affirmed with a hum. "She had a similar upbringing to Tony and belonged in the same elite crowd, too. Her father disowned her after she insisted on pursuing what she really wanted to do in life."

"Just a second!" Dawn shouted at the door as she hurried toward it, passing through the heroes in the process. With a welcoming smile plastered on her face, she opened the door, "How may I help you?"

Three men on the other side of the door took a second to state their purpose. "We’re looking for Anastasia Stark."

"This was the memory Kid was talking about," Natasha connected the dots in a whisper. Suddenly, it felt wrong to talk in their normal volume somehow — especially with the tension slowly building in the air.

And, as if a second confirmation to Natasha’s claim, they soon caught a glimpse of the symbol stitched on the men’s jackets. HYDRA.

"Oh, so sorry, boys," Dawn’s smile didn’t waver. "I haven’t heard of that name. May I suggest trying to ask the other doors?"

The HYDRA agents remained in front of her door, seemingly trying to come up with another, less suspicious approach. All three of them were wearing sunglasses, despite being indoors, so it was hard to tell where they were looking.

"Oh shit, no. Kid just stay there!" Clint panicked slightly when he noticed four-year-old Johan Collins emerging from the blanket fort. He attempted to stop her from reaching the door; but, just as Dawn had, she merely passed through. Because, again, this was a memory they didn’t exist in.

The Avengers could only watch as little Johan waddled near the door, halting two feet away from where her mother stood. She tilted her head slightly to the side, her eyes shining with curiosity. "Mommy?"

"Go back inside, sweetheart. Mommy will join you in a moment," Dawn replied without taking her eyes off the men on the other side of the door.

Perhaps that would’ve convinced the HYDRA agents to leave, noting that they’ve disturbed her quite enough. But, as they were about to turn, the one on the right took notice of something the other two failed to. "Her eyes."

Natasha unconsciously translated for the Avengers who couldn’t understand Russian.

"Yes," all the agents’ attention were on the four-year-old now, "Stark’s eyes."

It was Bucky who translated this time, his voice somewhat tight.

They didn’t know what alerted Dawn that the men were up to no good; but, suddenly, her complete demeanor changed. Her welcoming smile was gone and was replaced by a stern look of protectiveness. "Good day, gentlemen." She tried to close the door, but was prevented by the closest man. "You‘re not going to go near my daughter without getting through me."

Everything that came next was a blur.

There were two consecutive gunshots.

Then an earsplitting scream of a little girl.

next shore >

[cptamerica]

cptcvrter

“Steve. Honey,” she urged, gently, seeing the exact moment his thoughts started tugging him away. Peggy watched him for a moment, nodding slowly. “Dignity of choice,” she repeated, searching for his gaze. “Everyone deserves the chance to choose their own actions, for better or worse. Bucky didn’t have a chance to choose. Loki didn’t. And I’m sure they aren’t the only ones. Some kind of twisted, dark powers preyed on their vulnerabilities and used their abilities for the worst.” She shook her head, “But you need to stop feeling so guilty about this, darling. You remember what I said after that? You did everything you could. Why would you think you needed to look for him? You thought he was dead. Like I thought you were. You don’t think I think back to how I should have looked for you? Howard kept looking. Months after. I told him to stop, Steve. He wanted to keep looking and I said no. Because it was pointless. How many times in the past year do you think I’ve replayed that entire conversation over in my head? But I can’t dwell on it because it won’t change it. Neither will you doing the same with Bucky.”

He nodded to her, heard the gentle warning in her voice. A breath calmed him some. His eyes glanced around her home. He'd sort of forgotten what a home was like. The Tower was one thing, he had his suite there. But everything in here was Peggy's, touched by her style. It was comforting in a way he couldn't fully explain. He took a seat on the couch, his hand still holding hers, pulling her into the cushions with him. "Peggy," he sighed. "I wasn't suffering that whole time though. I was basically asleep, I barely even --" He remembered flashes of the ice. The crash, the cold, the dark. "But I hear you," he said, nodding again. "I don't blame either you or Howard for not finding me sooner. And I know... I know Bucky doesn't blame me. But maybe it's like the shield," he mused softly. "Maybe it's just something we carry." His free hand came up, brushed a strand of hair back from her cheek. "We're leaders. That's what we do, right?"

[backonefish]

not sure why the mcu is still so intent on painting bucky as someone who needs to “amend” and “serve” to right his wrongs. or that he should move on from the image that steve had of him - aka a victim and not a villian. theyve decided that the only way forward for bucky is to be forgiven by people who have suffered because of the winter soldier - as opposed to bucky forgiving himself.

first zemo acts like he forgives bucky, when... what did bucky even do to hurt zemo?? wasnt it the other way around???

even sam, who is a va therapist, is pushing the dialogue that the only way forward for bucky is to amend. the entire conversation felt so uncomfortable bc it very much felt like victim blaming and that bucky wasnt doing enough work, or the ‘right’ work to move past his trauma. 

not once do they label bucky as a trauma victim who wasnt in control of his actions but a casualty of a system that used and abused him. 

[nadinebrooks-marvel]

Here is the link to my masterlist.

Bucky Barnes x Reader: Sunflower

Warnings: Language, mentions of death, drugging, if I've missed anything, let me know PART 2

Tony Stark didn't have a soft spot for most people in his life. With the exception of Pepper, Morgan, and Peter Parker, there were few people he would go above and beyond for. Once he saw (y/n) (l/n), she was added to that list.

(y/n) was a product of HYDRA. Unlike the witch, (y/n) did not willingly join the secret organization. Even though she was fairly young, (y/n) was a world-renowned botanist who was very well respected in her community. HYDRA saw something in her and wanted to see what they could do to enhance her knowledge of plants. Tony had to give it to HYDRA. They really outdid themselves with the work they did on her.

Tony would never willingly admit this out loud, but he truly believed (y/n) was one of the more powerful Avengers. It was only a matter of time before she realized her true potential.

Tony wasn't one to keep track of other supernatural beings in the universe. He let them do their own thing as long as they let him do his own thing.

One Wednesday morning while he was taking a cup of coffee to the lab for Bruce, FRIDAY started sending him video surveillance of some of the things (y/n) was doing with HYDRA. His interest had been peaked.

She was stealthy, he had to give her that. There wasn't much proof that she was even working with HYDRA. There was very little surveillance on her. Whenever FRIDAY could find something, he noticed this completely blank look on her face. There wasn't a single thought behind those eyes. She clearly wasn't in control of her actions.

Tony never had his mind controlled, but he had heard a little about it from Clint and Loki. He could tell that neither of them really liked to talk about it. So, he rounded up a couple members of the team and their next mission was to save (y/n). He decided to take Natasha, Sam, and Clint to help. It was a seamless mission and absolutely nothing went wrong which was a great sign.

Once the team took her from HYDRA, Bruce had her placed in a medically induced coma for a couple of days while he studied her mind. He was absolutely fascinated by her and after a while he decided that she was safe enough to wake up.

Once she was awake, (y/n) didn't remember anything that she had done while under HYDRA's influence. For the first couple of days, the entire team was on edge around her. They had all seen the footage of her so they had every reason to keep their distance for a little while. Her abilities were intimidating.

Eventually, they became more and more comfortable around her. She became more comfortable around them as well. (y/n) was a total sweetheart. She very quickly warmed up to the team and most of them took a liking to her as well.

***

(y/n) spent a lot of her free time in a greenhouse that Tony had specifically built for her. The greenhouse was a large glass building that had been built in the backyard of the tower the day that she woke up.

He thought this was a good way for her to express herself in a control environment. She could branch out with her powers at her own speed without having to worry about disturbing anyone else.

Once she had walked in on an intense conversation that Steve, Bruce, and Tony were having about her. (y/n) didn't hear most of what they were saying, but she did manage to catch a glimpse of the footage they were watching on her.

She couldn’t believe what she was watching. There's no way that she could treat other humans like that. And why couldn’t she remember any of that? The things she was seeing had her worried.

FRIDAY alerted the boys of presence before she had even seen the worst of it. Tony quickly turned off the tv and tried to call out to her, but she had taken off toward her bedroom.

There had always been this negative voice in the back of (y/n)'s head saying that she was too dangerous to be around. That was when she really started to believe it. Soon after that, (y/n) realized that she could do a whole lot more than look after plants, but it seemed as if Tony didn't think she could handle watching any more of the film. Not after she spent three days locked in her room after walking in on them. (y/n) thought otherwise though. That wasn't something for Tony to decide. She wasn’t a child and deserved to know the whole truth.

***

(y/n)'s greenhouse was hot, but it didn't bother her at all. It was her sanctuary. There was a large array of greenery like flowers, fruits, vegetables, and herbs. The majority of the edible things went to the tower's chef to prepare their meals.

There were things growing that weren't local to New York at all. (y/n) had plants thriving in her greenhouse that weren't even native to Earth. She simply spoke and the plants did exactly what she wanted. She would often dapple in some herbalist work as well. She spent a lot of her time working in the medical bay at the tower.

(y/n) could create potions with all the different plants she raised. There were potions that could make people fall in love, experience insanity, or think that they are an animal.

One thing that (y/n) wasn't completely aware of was the fact that she had complete control of every plant in the universe. Anything that participated in photosynthesis would bend at her will. She had a good idea, but she wasn't completely sure just yet.

"This is amazing (y/n)." The metal armed soldier said in awe as he walked into the greenhouse. He always knew where to find her. Most of the other Avengers didn't visit (y/n) in her greenhouse. They usually said it was because of all the missions and meetings they went to, but she knew it was because of the temperature.

The warm temperature didn't bother her at all. (y/n) liked being alone. She felt like the plants were her home. The team didn't really trust her on missions just yet so this is where she spent a lot of her free time. But then there was Bucky Barnes who always managed to take time out of his busy schedule to come down and visit her.

Bucky wasn't sure why, but he had always felt a pull toward (y/n) ever since she was brought into the tower. When she was first placed in a coma by Bruce, he would come sit with her. Bruce suggested that Bucky read to her.

Bucky asked if she would be able to hear him and Bruce admitted that he wasn't positive, but there was a chance. So, he took a chance and read to her. He had never been able to bring himself to ask (y/n) if she remembers any of that. Maybe one day he would say something to her. He was too scared to tell her that he had been reading to her. He knew that (y/n) wouldn't cause a scene, but he didn't want her thinking that he was weird.

When (y/n) awoke, Bucky was the first person she saw. She greeted him with a smile before passing out. Bucky thought that he had done something and completely freaked out until Bruce told him that everything was fine. She had gotten overstimulated and should wake up later in the day.

(y/n) was soft and warm and kind. Maybe that's why he had taken such a liking to her. It had been a long time since someone treated him the way she had. Like a proper human being. It seemed like some people in the tower walked on broken egg shells around him. It was as if they thought the Winter Soldier would just randomly appear one day. Of course Bucky couldn't blame them. There was the possibility of that happening.

Even though he had a troubled past, it was nothing (y/n) held against him. She never even asked him about his past. The two of them would spend a lot of their free time together. They would watch movies and cook some of their meals together. Everyone on the team was happy that (y/n) easily adjusted to normal life again.

"You don’t have to make such a big deal every time you come in here Bucky. I grow plants. It's nothing compared to what some of you guys can do." (y/n) was crouched over a plant whispering to it. Bucky was almost positive that he had seen those plants growing in Wakanda during his time there. He knew that those plants shouldn’t be able to grow anywhere else in the universe, but here they were. There were under the intense care of (y/n).

"Well from what I've heard, you can do a hell of a lot more than just grow plants." Bucky shook his head at the pretty girl.

"Thanks Bucky, but I promise it's not that cool. I mean think about what Strange can do. And Thor is literally the god of thunder. I'm just me."

"Why do you always do that to yourself?" Bucky questioned walking around and admiring all the plants. They were beautiful. Just like her.

"What do I do?" She walked over to the sink and washed the dirt off her hands. Once she started washing her hands, he knew that she was done in the greenhouse for the day.

If he wasn't caught up in some last minute mission debriefing, Bucky would come down to the greenhouse to walk with (y/n) back up to the tower. He rarely missed their greenhouse walks. It was the highlight of his day.

A couple of times he cut a training session short with Steve to walk with her. Steve told Sam about it and Sam told him that he was "whipped". Bucky had absolutely no idea what it meant.

"You’re always downplaying yourself. There's no need to do that. We're all different in different ways." Bucky tried explaining to her. He had self-esteem issues as well so he knew where (y/n) was coming from. It could be hard sometimes, but if (y/n) needed someone to remind her how amazing she was, then he would do just that.

"I'm just being honest. I mean it's hard to be confident in myself when I'm walking amongst gods and super soldiers. I mean Tony won’t even let me go on missions with you guys. He treats me like a child. I think he would let Morgan go on a mission before me."

"Maybe it's for the best." Bucky knew how he felt himself when he heard about all the awful things HYDRA had made him do.

(y/n) angrily glared at him and he felt one of the plants that was sitting by his foot slowly start wrapping itself around his leg and making its way up his body. He didn't really notice it at first, but it did start to become a little uncomfortable once it got around his stomach and chest area.

Bucky didn't think that (y/n) knew exactly what she was doing. She had turned her back to him and now she was packing up her belongings. So this is what happened when you made her angry.

Bucky tried to speak, but the plant was crushing his lungs so tightly that he wasn't even able to get a sound out. He managed to free his boot and kick over a plant causing the pot to shatter when it hit the ground. (y/n) whipped around and her eyes widened in horror at the sight before her. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Bucky. She didn't want to hurt anyone.

"Stop." (y/n) calmly spoke and the grip on him loosened as the plants returned to their original spot. "Sorry about that. Sometimes when I get angry my mind goes blank. I lose control of the plants."

"It's okay." Bucky managed to give her a weak smile. "I didn't know you could do that."

"Every day I'm learning more and more about what I can do."

"I know you wouldn’t have let this happen, but could those plants have killed me?" He instinctively reached up and rubbed his chest area. Those plants must have squeezed him tighter than he thought.

"Yes." (y/n) simply stated. "It would take a little longer than it would to kill an average human, but eventually they would have. It would be the same way an anaconda constricts to kill its prey. I'm so so sorry Bucky. I promise I didn't mean it. I would never try to hurt you."

"I promise it's okay (y/n). It's going to take a little bit more than a couple of plants to take me out." Bucky gave her a weak smile while wincing and rubbing his ribcage again. He had a feeling that a couple of them were cracked.

Tony was right, she was scary. But Tony was not right to keep her in the dark about her abilities. That made her even more dangerous. She needed to know the extent of her powers or that could be detrimental to the entire team.

"A couple of your ribs are broken. This should heal them, but you might not want to talk for a little bit." She walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a vial filled with a deep red substance. It kinda looked like blood which made Bucky shudder. She passed it over to him. He felt like some people would be wary of (y/n) giving them something to drink, but he would trust her with his life.

"How do you know my ribs are broken?" He took the top off the bottle and sniffed it. It didn't look the best, but it smelled like strawberries.

"I know this is a little weird, but I felt the plants break your ribs." She eyed the vial in his hands and gestured for him to drink it. "I promise it doesn’t taste that bad."

"So you mean to tell me that you could feel the plants breaking my ribs?"

"Yeah." She shrugged as if it was no big deal. "Whenever I move plants, I feel them as if they are a part of me. I could never pinpoint the feeling until those plants almost choked you. But stop talking until your ribs are healed. I know you're in pain."

Bucky rarely saw eye to eye with Tony and this was one of those times. He felt like that footage was something (y/n) needed to see. She was bound to do more than grow exotic plants and fix up concoctions to heal broken bones.

Bucky took the backpack from (y/n) and placed it on his back. It wasn't heavy at all, but whenever he was around (y/n), he always found himself doing simple things like that.

Of course (y/n) deserved someone who would go above and beyond for her, but he didn't want to come off too strong. Most of the walk back to the tower was silent, until Bucky finally spoke up.

"I was wondering if I could ask you something?" This had been something that had been weighing on his mind for the longest. He had always wanted to have a flirtier relationship with (y/n), but he couldn’t bring himself to do it because he wanted to be respectful toward her.

"Of course." (y/n) looked over to him as they entered the compound. "It sounds like your ribs are doing better."

"They're doing much better. All thanks to you." Bucky grinned. He was amazed that she could make something like that. If he had gone to the med bay, it would have taken a few days for his bones to mend themselves back together. She was able to mend his bones within 15 minutes from the plants she grew that came from all over the universe. He wondered if Banner knew what kind of gem he had living under his nose.

He tried to push the negative thoughts away, but his mind started wandering. If she was able to make potions heal people, were they able to do the exact opposite? Bucky knew the answer to that, but he didn't want to accept it. If she could trick someone into drinking one of her potions, she could make anything happen to them. Good or bad.

"I didn't mean to change the subject. What was your question?" (y/n) cocked her head to the side studying Bucky's features.

"Do you have anyone special in your life?" Bucky nervously asked. He had no idea why he even worded it like that.

"Do you mean like a romantic someone special?" (y/n) giggled looking over at him.

"Yeah. Obviously I know that I am someone very special in your life. But I meant like a romantic partner."

"No." (y/n) nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I mean, I haven't really had time to do all the romantic things like that, you know? I was super involved with my research before all the HYDRA stuff. Then I was locked in a cell for a while and now I'm here. I've had a few partners here and there, but I don’t really get out much Bucky. Especially not now. Tony lets me go to the tower and to my greenhouse. I don’t think I'm allowed to go anywhere else. I think that he's scared I'll hurt someone."

"I think he's more worried about you hurting yourself." Bucky suggested. He knew how (y/n) was feeling. Tony had him in this exact position a couple of years ago. "I think I could convince Tony to let you leave this place for a couple of hours. Is there anywhere you'd like to go?"

"I just want to go to a zoo."

"A zoo?" Bucky's eyes shot up in surprise. That was not what he thought she was going to say.

"Yes." (y/n) confirmed. "I want to go to a zoo. I've never been before."

"Okay, I think I can make that happen. Next week, if you're free how about we go get lunch and then go to the zoo? That is if you want to. No pressure or anything." They had reached the tower and headed to the elevators so that they could ride it up to the kitchen.

"Are you asking me out on a date Bucky Barnes?" (y/n) stopped walking and stared up at him. He was blushing and doing everything he could to avoid her piercing gaze. It had been so long since he had asked anyone out.

If she told him no, he was going to take himself out of the dating game forever. He couldn’t handle the rejection from (y/n).

"I am, but if you don't want me to, then no. We can still go to the zoo and lunch as friends if that would make you happy."

"Going to lunch and the zoo as friends would make me happy, but making it a date would make me even happier." (y/n) grinned at the brunette. This was going way better than he could have imagine.

"Sounds great." He nodded. "So, uh when are you free?"

"I'm always free." (y/n) shrugged. "Just let me know whenever you get some free time."

Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but he was stopped when Tony came down the hallway. He looked between the grinning (y/n) and the blushing Bucky not sure what he had just walked in on. He had never seen either of them like this. Tony didn't even know that Bucky could blush.

"I don't know what I just walked in on, but I need to talk to Sunflower about something." Tony grumbled walking over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. (y/n) rolled her eyes at the nickname he had given her.

"Can this wait until after dinner. I'm hungry." (y/n)'s eye flicked over to the table where the rest of the Avengers were sitting. This was crucial bonding time for (y/n). The other Avengers were so close and she knew that she would never be as close at the other ones, but she wanted to be friendly. Dinner was the best time to make that happen. Even if it was only for an hour or so, everyone let their guard down while they enjoyed a meal together.

"I promise it won't take more than twenty minutes. Bruce and I want to show you something in the lab that we've been working on."

"I'll give you ten." (y/n) grumbled before taking her backpack from Bucky and heading off behind Tony. She was pissed. It was Friday night so that meant Loki was cooking. The tower chefs got the weekends off so the team took turns cooking during those days. This was not known until recently, but Loki was a wonderful cook. It smelled as if he had made tacos.

Tony shot a suspicious look back at Bucky as they walked off toward the lab. He was going to be having a serious conversation with him later. There would be no funny business with Sunflower allowed.

"What's up?" (y/n) walked over to Bruce who was looking at something under a microscope. This was nothing out of the ordinary. Tony and Bruce were always working on something in the lab that they needed help with.

They were always asking her to come up some potion or spend the day in the med bay helping Bruce after an intense mission. Last week she helped him come up with a sleeping potion that tasted like hot chocolate. Apparently Peter Parker had been having nightmares and Tony wanted to help him have a dreamless sleep.

"We're leaving for a mission on Monday. We shouldn’t be back later than Thursday. Which means you're in charge while I'm gone. Anyway, I don’t know all the details, but something about some Vikings up north that are stealing intel from SHIELD. I was wondering if you could take a look at a couple of medications that Bruce and I have been researching. Of course they're not FDA approved, but it's not like they're being created for the general population."

"Sure." (y/n) happily nodded glancing over at Bruce. She was always happy to help the men that saved her life. If it wasn't for them then she doesn't know where she would be. "What would you like the medication to be able to do?"

"Before we get to that, I do have a question." Tony raised an eyebrow. (y/n) nodded to let him know that she was listening. "Do all of your creations have to be taken orally?"

"Nope. I can create powders that have the same effect, but they’re much harder to control. You have to take in account the wind and other elements. I would suggest a serum that can be put into a dart gun."

"Excellent." Bruce nodded coming up from the microscope. "We wanted you down here because Tony and I were doing some researching and there are a couple of things we'd like you to look into.

"Sure. What were you guys thinking about?"

"How about something where the receiver's blood suddenly stops pumping. Or their body turns to stone? Maybe even one where they lose all their senses. Or how about-" Tony had started rambling. This is what happened when he got excited about whatever he was talking about.

"I don't think I've worked with anything like that Tony." (y/n) said after a moment. She was lying. She knew could create just about anything he dreamed of. There was no doubt about it, but all that information was locked away in her brain and Tony was the one with the key. All the knowledge was stored somewhere in there. She had a feeling that watching the film and reading her files would help bring all that information back.

"You've done it before (y/n). I know you don't remember a lot of your time while you were with HYDRA, but there's so much you can do Sunflower. You don’t even know the half of it."

"I don’t even know if I can touch the plants I would need to create potions like that." She smoothly lied. She already knew what Tony was going to say before the words even left his mouth.

"You're immune." Tony simply stated. "You are completely immune to all plant toxins."

Yes. She knew that. She had been playing around with some toxic plants the past couple of weeks just to test her limits. All she needed was those files and she could bring someone like Thor to his knees.

"I feel like you know me better than I know myself." (y/n) angrily muttered looking away from Tony. In this moment, she was furious with him. Why would he keep this all from her. If it came down to it, she would sneak a truth potion into his coffee and force him to tell her what she wanted to know.

"Your statement isn't completely false. You can do so much more than you know. You see those trees over there." Tony pointed to a couple of trees that were swaying at the edge of the compound. (y/n) nodded and looked at him not sure where the conversation was going. "Turn the leaves yellow."

"I've never tried to do anything from this far away." Another lie. She was constantly doing this. She wanted to see how far away she could be and still control the plants.

"You can do it. I've seen you do it from father." Tony shrugged. It was the middle of the summer and the leaves were a bright green. Watching the leaves turn colors was as if (y/n) fast forwarded through time. They were yellow, then orange, then brown. They died and slowly fell to the ground. It didn't even take much thought for her to do that. She had done more than what Tony asked of her.

"I'll make whatever it is that you and Dr. Banner want, no questions asked if you let me watch that film. I want all the files as well. That's all I'm asking for."

"No can do Sunflower. You're not ready."

"If you don’t let me see them, I'll..." (y/n) trailed off not sure what she would do if Tony didn't let her watch that film. She needed to think of something quick.

"You'll do what?" He cockily raised an eyebrow. He penitently waited on (y/n) to say what exactly she would be doing if he didn't show her that film.

"I'll ask Loki."

"You wouldn’t dare." Tony's cocky grin dropped. Even Bruce's eyes widened with shock.

Tony knew that Loki wouldn't just fetch the film for her, but he would help her retrieve her memories as well. He would do it just because Tony had expressed to the team that he would let (y/n) see the film when both him and Bruce thought she was ready.

In all honesty, Tony was feeling a little guilty. (y/n) had no idea what all she could do and it was his fault. She could create a drink so powerful it healed Bucky's bones in minutes. She didn't know the full extent of what she could do. Eventually he would let her watch that film, but today was not the day. She was just a child.

He knew that it wasn't fair to see her as a child. She was far from it. She deserved to know.

"Watch me Tony. I'll give you until you leave for your mission to come up with a decision." (y/n) gave both of them a smirk before heading back toward the kitchen. She was starving. The last thing she wanted was to argue with Tony. Especially since this conversation had gone on way longer than she wanted it to.

When (y/n) arrived back in the kitchen, the entire team was gone. That was everyone besides Bucky. He had been waiting on her to come back so that she didn't have to eat alone. He had even fixed a plate for her and left it in the oven so that it would stay warm.

"You didn’t have to wait for me Bucky." (y/n) gave him a warm smile as she walked over to sit down beside him.

"I know I didn't have to, but I didn't want you to eat dinner alone." He smiled back and took his seat across the table from her. The two of them ate and laughed and talked about their day. Eventually they got on the topic of (y/n) wanting to see the film of her when she was with HYDRA.

Bucky knew that she needed to see it, but at the same time, maybe she would be better off not seeing it. Tony could just explain everything to her. She didn't need to see it. He remembers what it felt like when he saw that film of himself. He wouldn’t wish that feeling on his worst enemy.

***

The following days leading up the mission, it was clear that Tony had been avoiding (y/n). He hadn't made his decision about her seeing the film. Him, Bruce, and Steve had gone back and forth about it for hours. Yes, (y/n) should be the one making that call, but he didn't want to ruin her. She was so lively and innocent and the last thing he wanted was for that to change.

Once Tony's bags were packed, he headed down to the greenhouse to tell (y/n) goodbye. He could never leave without telling her goodbye. She was like his daughter. On his walk down, he decided how he was feeling about the files. She wasn't going to see them before he left. He wanted to be there when she saw them and if he wasn't going to be there then she couldn't see them. She was not going to be happy, but he would deal with the consequences later.

"Please don’t kill me." Tony raised his hands in surrender. "I just want to be there when you watch everything and I can't be with you for the next couple of days."

"You will feel my wrath when you return Tony Stark." (y/n) hissed staring at him. Tony made sure to keep an eye on all the plants around him. The last thing he wanted was to die at the hands of a Venus fly trap.

"Look, I know this isn't ideal, but I think this is best for everyone. You're in charge of Barnes and Mischief until I get back."

"Oh so now I have to babysit." (y/n) crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

"Just keep an eye on Loki please. For some odd reason, he actually listens to you and Barnes is sick so just keep him comfortable. I don't know what he has. It seems like the flu or something. I haven't seen him because I hate sick people. You're immune so could you please fix him something?"

"I don’t think there's much I could do for a super soldier." (y/n) grumbled. "I could probably create a couple of potions to help with his symptoms."

"Please try not to kill him Sunflower." Tony joked.

"Did Bucky tell you that?" (y/n)'s eyes widened in horror. "I promise I didn't mean it Tony."

"It's fine, I was just joking. I know you love your greenhouse so don’t forget about him in the tower."

"Oh I promise I won't. I'll spend as little time as possible down here. We'll be fine."

Tony just nodded at her response. He felt guilty. He kept telling himself that eventually he would tell her. He would let her watch the all the film he had on her, but not today.

Once she heard the jet take off, (y/n) knew there was someone she needed to see. Someone who never sugarcoated anything he said to her. Someone who would be honest no matter what.

She softly knocked on the god's room and patiently waited for him to answer. They weren't the closest in the tower, but he was one of the very few people who somewhat knew what she was going through. He also knew what it felt like to have the whole team avoiding you because they were scared of you.

"Come in." Loki called out. He was lounging on a loveseat while reading a book. (y/n) cocked her head to the side silently studying him. He always had a book. She wondered how many he read in a single day. If he read well into the night once everyone else had gone to sleep. Did he even need sleep?

"Hi Loki." She whispered walking further into the room. (y/n) had never been in Loki's room before, but she decided that the room suited him very well. It calmed her. Like he did.

"Hello (y/n)." His eyes shot up in surprise. She was one of the last people he expected to enter his room. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes. I want you to help remember."

"And what exactly do you want help remembering?" His book closed with a soft thump and he leaned forward towards (y/n). He knew exactly what she was asking him for, but he wanted her to say it. He wasn’t going to put words in her mouth.

"I want to remember what happened to me before I came here. I just feel like there are these gaps in my memories and I want you to help me fill them."

"Do you not remember anything at all?"

"I know I have dreams about what I did, but when I wake up, I don’t remember anything at all. I need to remember Loki."

He silently wondered if people in the tower had been talking to (y/n) about what his powers were. He hadn't really exchanged abilities with the young Avenger before. In all honesty, he wasn’t even sure what all she could do. He had seen some of the footage of her and he had to admit, he was impressed. Stark told him that wasn't even the tip of the iceberg. If what he knew was only a little bit of what she could do, Loki was very happy to have her on his side.

He often did wonder why (y/n) didn't help when they went on missions. Yes, she was young, but she wasn't that young. She wasn't a child like the Spider-Boy.

Loki thought that if he was human, the two of them would be around the same age. He also learned that (y/n) had a PhD so she couldn’t be that young. Loki assumed that she hadn't gone out into the field yet because it had something to do with her not being able to completely control her powers yet. Hopefully she would be able to go onto some missions soon. She would be a great asset.

"What makes you think I can help?" He hummed.

"Because you can do cool mind shit. Or am I thinking about the wrong person?"

"You are correct (y/n)." He let out a deep sigh. "I am the one that can do cool mind shit."

"Great." She happily grinned.

"Did you tell Stark that you wanted to remember?"

"Yes, but he doesn’t think it's a good idea. He would kill me if he found out I was talking to you about this."

"He would not kill you dear (y/n). You are his Sunflower. He would kill me if he found out I helped retrieve your memories though." Loki chuckled shaking his head. He couldn’t have the old man hating him even more than he already did.

"That's why we're not going to tell him." (y/n) responded. "He's gone on a mission for a couple of days."

"He will know."

"How will he know?"

"Because (y/n)," Loki let out a sad sigh. "What you find out about yourself is going to alter you. For better or worse, I don’t know that. When you find out what you did, it's going to take some time to process. I wouldn’t be surprised if you locked yourself in your room for a while again. Tony will know that you know. Then he will come for me. He will kill me."

"Can you die?" (y/n) shyly looked over at him.

"Yes."

"I was just wondering because I was reading up on you guys and I read that you faked your death."

"Did you do some reading on all of us?" He was curious now. Loki had never read anything about himself that Stark had on file.

"Yeah." (y/n) nodded. "I spent a lot of time in the med bay while Bruce ran some test on me. I got bored so I just read about you guys. You were the most interesting."

"And why was that?" His eye shot up in surprise. He never thought there would be anyone who was interested in him.

"Because I've never met a god before." (y/n) chuckled. "I mean I've read about demigods in Percy Jackson and stuff like that. But from what I've read, you're so much cooler than them."

"Percy Jackson?" Loki slowly repeated. He had heard about the books, but he always though they were children's fantasy stories.

"Yeah. I have the whole set. I'll let you borrow them sometime if you want. But now we're getting off track. I just feel like everyone in the tower is avoiding me. I tried asking FRIDAY what happened, but I think Tony set up some restrictions against me."

"Maybe that is for the best."

"No." (y/n) snapped. The couple of plants that Loki kept in his room started inching toward him. He nervously eyed them and (y/n) lazily waved her hand causing them to return to their original position. "Sorry, that happens when I get agitated I wouldn’t have let them hurt you."

"Are you sure about that? I heard you almost killed Barnes last week."

"Fuck. Does everyone know I did that? Did Bucky tell you that? I didn't mean to do it. I've gained more control of my powers since then."

"Well that's good that you're controlling your powers. Maybe once Tony sees that you have complete control then he will show you."

"I'll never have complete control until I know exactly what I did. I can't control what I don’t know Loki. Would you rather have not known what you did in New York?"

"I honestly don’t know (y/n)." Loki rubbed his temples. He was not planning on having this heavy of a conversation today. "Look (y/n), I want you to take some time and think about what you're truly asking of me. Give it a couple of days and get back to me. If it's something you still want, then we can reevaluate."

(y/n) happily nodded. She thought that was a pretty good deal. As she exited Loki's room, she was met with none other than Bucky Burns. She let out a yelp of surprise when she ran into him firm chest. He wasn’t supposed to be out of his room. He was sick.

"What were you doing in there with Loki?" Bucky croaked out and suspiciously raised an eyebrow. He was clearly not feeling well, but he was trying to hide it.

"We were talking about Percy Jackson." (y/n) mumbled looking away from him. She was looking anywhere but at him. What she told him wasn't exactly a lie. But it wasn't the whole truth either. She wasn't very good at lying to him.

"You were asking him to help you get your memories back."

"I need to know Bucky."

"No you don’t. Have you ever heard the saying that ignorance is bliss?"

"And have you ever heard the saying that ignorance is an enemy, even to its owner." She glared up him. Even though Bucky wanted to disagree, she was right. She had no idea what she could do. She was someone that could have given him a run for his money when he was in his Winter Soldier prime days. "You know I'm right Bucky. I don’t want to argue with you. You need to get back to bed."

It took a lot of work, but (y/n) managed to get him back into bed. She tried tucking him under the covers, but he complained that he was too hot. He was sweating so (y/n) went into his bathroom to grab a wet washcloth to place on his forehead. Once she came back into his room, Bucky had taken off his sweatpants and t-shirt. They were completely soaked through with sweat. The only thing covering his perfectly sculpted body was a pair of navy blue boxers.

(y/n) gulped and slowly walked toward him. It had been a while since she had seen a halfway naked man. She wasn't expecting to see him like this so soon. Maybe after a couple of dates, but not today. She laid the cool washcloth on his forehead which caused Bucky to let out a sign in relief.

"Thank you doll." He managed to say. It had been so long since someone had cared for him like this.

"Of course. Would you like anything else? My mom used to make soup for me when I was little. It always helped me feel better."

"I don’t want to be a bother."

"You're no bother at all Bucky. Please let me take care of you." (y/n) gave him a gentle smile and passed him the remote so that he could watch tv. She also handed him his phone so that he could call if he needed anything.

It shouldn’t take long, but (y/n) knew what she needed to do. If she didn't do it now then there wasn't going to be another opportunity. She went down to her greenhouse to find a vial that had been sitting in the back of her cabinet for a while. She hadn't decided who she wanted to use it on, but now was the perfect time.

Bucky was weak and wouldn’t suspect a single thing. The liquid was clear and practically tasteless which was perfect for pouring into Bucky's soup. It sounded like his nose was pretty stopped up so his taste probably wasn't that great at the moment.

Walking into the kitchen, (y/n) quickly got to work making some chicken noodle soup for Bucky. It didn't take that long. She had made this recipe many different times for her siblings when they got sick. The last thing she put into it was her secret ingredient.

"Something smells good in here. What are you cooking-" Loki's voice trailed off as he watched (y/n) slip a vial back into her backpack.

"It's not what you think Loki." (y/n) anxiously rubbed her hands together hoping that he wouldn’t ask too many questions.

"Look, I don’t know what you put in his soup and I don’t want to know, but just know that you can't come back from what you're about to do. You can't unsee it."

"I'm a big girl Loki. I'll be okay."

"I believe you (y/n)." He raised his hands in surrender.

"Well there is more than enough soup left if you want some. Please help yourself. I promise the secret ingredient isn't in there."

"Thank you." Loki gave her a small smile as he walked over the pot simmering on the stove. He was going to have to ask (y/n) to cook more often. It smelled wonderful.

"Of course. Please enjoy." She grinned and went started heading back toward Bucky's room. If he hadn't fallen asleep yet, he was probably wondering where she was.

"Oh and (y/n)." Loki called out before she had gotten too far away. (y/n) slowly turned around to face him. "I have an idea of what you're planning on doing and if you ever need to talk, I'm here."

"I appreciate that Loki. I really do, but I'll be okay. I've been preparing myself for this."

That was a complete lie. (y/n) had a feeling that she wasn't going to okay. She didn't know what she was going to do after she did what she was planning on doing. Tony sent her a text earlier in the day saying that the mission went quicker than expected so they would be home the following day.

(y/n) patiently sat there waiting for Bucky to finish his soup. She sat in silence while he hungrily ate the entire bowl. She didn't expect the potion to take long to get into his bloodstream.

(y/n) wasn't all evil. She made sure to add something in there to help him start feeling better as well. He should be back on his feet tomorrow. It would usually take the average person around 5 days to get over the flu, but he would be fine in a few hours. She liked to think that was pretty good at what she did. Eventually she'd be able to get that down to under an hour.

"Are you feeling better Bucky?" She finally asked.

"Not really. I still feel like shit, but your soup tasted amazing." He promptly responded. His eyes widened in surprise. He didn't mean to tell her that he wasn't feeling well. He wanted her to think that he was doing fine.

"I'm glad you liked it. I can go get you some more."

"I'm fine, but thank you for the offer. I'm afraid that if eat something else I'll end up throwing up all over you." Bucky was usually so good at holding his thoughts in, but now he felt like he couldn’t hold anything in. If a thought came to his mind, it slipped right past his lips.

"Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?" (y/n) cocked her head to the side and studied him. She had to ask him a few questions to make sure that he was completely under her influence.

"Sure. Not too many though. I'm starting to get sleepy."

"What's your name?"

"James Buchanan Barnes." He Instantly responded. (y/n) felt herself grinning. It worked. Of course it worked. She was amazing.

"What year were you born?"

"1917." he answered without even thinking. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He was in control of his mind, but he wasn’t in control of what was coming out of his mouth. "What did you do (y/n)? I feel weird."

"The feeling will go away in an few minutes. We don’t have much time so let's get working."

"I'm not going to answer your questions (y/n). This needs to something that happens when Tony and Steve are here."

"I hope you know that Tony and Steve don't own you. You can make decision on your own without their approval."

"I know that (y/n)." He yawned. "Can you at least tell me what you did to me?"

"I put something in your soup so that you can't lie to me. It also makes you more susceptible to any suggestions I give you. It won't last more than 10 minutes. But I put something in there to help with your flu symptoms and that should kick in within the next 10 minutes too so it'll knock you out for a while. It's supposed to help you sleep. You should be fine when you wake up tomorrow."

Bucky just stared at (y/n) not saying anything. He didn't have much to say in this moment. Besides, he was starting to get really sleepy.

"We can start off with something easy Bucky. Why won't Tony let me see the footage?" She sat down at the foot of his bed and got ready to have the conversation she had been waiting to have for the past eight months.

"He doesn't want you to think about yourself any differently. We all know who you really are and he doesn’t want that footage to change you."

"Has everyone living in this compound seen this footage besides me."

"Just about, yes."

"Why did Tony want to save me from HYDRA?" She needed a straight answer about this one.

"FRIDAY started sending him all this stuff of you. He didn't really get involved with other superheroes, but you were different. You were too young to be doing what they had you doing. In a way you reminded him of Peter."

"Is everyone else scared of me? It seems like they try to avoid me."

"Not in the way that you think. The idea of you not knowing your true potential is scary in itself. But nobody is scared of you hurting them."

"But I hurt you." (y/n) sadly whispered looking down at her fingers.

"I'm completely fine. You didn't mean it. No hard feelings."

"Did I hurt a lot of other people?"

"Yes. You did. You didn't know what you were doing though. None of it was your fault."

"Did I kill anyone?"

"Yes (y/n)."

"So that means I'm a murder?"

"Welcome to the club." Bucky sadly shrugged.

"How do you feel about me watching the film?"

"I think you need to see it, but that’s not my call."

"Because it's Tony's and Steve's call?"

"You could say that. Can we please stop this before I say something that I can't take back? Or before you hear something that you really don't want to hear."

"Maybe, but do you know what I do really want to hear? What are your feelings toward me?" This one made her nervous. She had no idea what was about to come out of Bucky's mouth, but she wasn't expecting it at all.

"When you first arrived at the tower, I wasn't expecting the sound of your voice to give me butterflies. Or for your smile to make my heart skip a beat. I feel like I've known you my whole entire life. When I'm with you, I don’t have to pretend to be anyone or anything that I'm not. I didn't intend for any of that to happen. I didn't expect for it to happen. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me."

(y/n) stared at him with tears in her eyes. Bucky felt himself relaxing into the bed. He had been wanting to say that to her for a while. It was supposed to come after their first date, but there's no time like the present. At least he could blame it on whatever she had slipped into his soup.

"You're going to hate me when I do this Bucky." She sadly sighed and thought about her next words. It was important that she was very clear about her next request.

"I could never hate you (y/n)." He looked over at her watery eyes and sadly smiled. Bucky knew what was coming, but it was okay. As long as (y/n) knew how he felt. He felt his eyes starting to drop. He needed to be awake when it happened. He wanted to be able to hold (y/n) in his arms. Who else was here to comfort her? Loki?

"Good. James Buchanan Barnes, I need you to let me see those files. I want all of them."

"FRIDAY, please pull up every single one of (y/n)'s files." Sleep finally overcame him and his whole body relaxed into the mattress.

"As you wish Mr. Barnes."

[cjsinkythoughts]

It’s All in the Perspective

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4491

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Gun Violence, Minor Character Injury, A Peek at Angry Bucky, Explosions (if that’s a warning), Mentions of Stevie (I really miss him, guys)

A/N: So! Here it is! Part 4.3! After long hours of laboring and slaving away - kidding, kidding. I had a bit of trouble with this part, not gonna lie, because there’s a lot of feelings I wanted to try explaining. To do that, there’s a little sort of twist at the end that, once I decided to put in, made the chapter much smoother to write. I wasn’t happy with it at first, but now I’m satisfied.

There’s a lot of things happening in this one; it’s longer than I had anticipated because of the little snippet at the end I added. It’s got a few scene-for-scene things, but I kinda blew past it just to get to the characters’ emotions and stuff. Plus writing action like the shipping yard scene is hard when you’re not focusing entirely on that scene, which I wasn’t.

You’ll notice that the last little bit with Ayo (the Wakandan) isn’t in this. That’s because I couldn’t really find a way to fit it in and I’m assuming it will fit in better with next week’s episode.

Not beta’d, so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you wonderful people for reading and commenting! I enjoy hearing your opinions and what you like about the show and the series! Enjoy the final Part for Episode 3 and stay tuned for an announcement tomorrow about the One Shots I’ll be doing in relation to this series!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

You and Bucky kept sneaking glances at each other as you walked through the dock, weaving between the different colored shipping containers with Sharon leading the way. Every time you caught his eye, his ears turned red and he looked away, scanning your surroundings. Not that you were any better, immediately turning away when he turned your way.

You almost kissed him. Fuck. You couldn’t let that happen. He was your friend. Your teammate. He was the best friend to the man you fell in love with, who just so happened to be your best friend. Your best friend who left you. Your best friend who you promised you would watch out for Bucky. 

Bucky…who you also fell in love with. Whether or not it was because of Steve, the fact of the matter was: you loved him. You loved both of them. And you’d never loved anyone like that before. And one left. And the other was trying to navigate through his shitty life. And you weren’t any better. Which is why, you decided in that moment, that no matter how much you wanted to - and holy shit did you want to - you wouldn’t pursue. 

Yet. Maybe. Ugh! When did feelings become so complicated?!

When you started having them.

You silently grumbled to yourself, shaking your head clear. You had to focus and be in the moment. Now was not the time to sort out what to do about the suddenly rising emotions towards the cerulean eyed brunette currently burning with you with a gaze you refused to return.

“Alright.” Sharon stopped, making the group stop as well. “He’s in there. Container 4261. I’ll keep an eye out while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry; we’re on borrowed time.”

You each grabbed one of the earpieces she held in her palm, slipping it comfortably in your ear. “I’ll stay back with you.” Sharon went to talk, but you cut her off. “I’d feel better knowing it’s not just you out here.”

She pursed her lips, before nodding. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

“Doll-”

“I’ll be fine, Buck.” You insisted, checking your gun to make sure it was loaded. Bucky stayed quiet, nodding in begrudging acceptance.

You and Sharon headed off as the boys went towards the storage unit. “Just like old times, huh?” Sharon raised an eyebrow at you.

You grinned, shoving your gun in the thigh holster she let you borrow. “Let the good times roll, babe.”

“Absolutely.” Sharon winked, before you two split up to cover more ground. It wasn’t long before Sharon announced company and you took off sprinting in her direction.

You got to her just as more thugs approached her from behind, immediately lunging into action.

“Hey, so, we never finished that conversation!”

You grunted as you roundhouse kicked a guy, hooking your knee over his shoulder and pulling him to the ground by the neck “Really?! You wanna do that now?!”

“Sure! I’m not too busy!”

You rolled your eyes at her reply, seeing her knock a guy unconscious before she turned around to knee another one in the face. “What were we talking about?”

“Why’re you holding back?”

“It’s complicated!” You elbowed a guy in the ribs, flipping him over your shoulder and twisting his arm till a sickening crack sounded.

“Because of Steve?!”

“Yes - no! Kind of!” 

Sharon was on the floor choking a guy out as you slammed a guy’s head into a shipping container, pushing him at another guy. “You loved him didn’t you?! And I mean, like in love with him!”

“Who?!” You laced your fingers around the back of his head and brought his face down onto his knee.

“Director Fury!” You gave her a look which she snorted at. “Steve, you dumbass! Who else?!”

“Yeah! No shit I was in love with him!” You ran up the side of a storage unit to do a backflip and land on some guy’s shoulders, choking him out. Before he fell, you rolled off, tripping a guy in the process and elbowing his throat.

“Well at least you’re admitting it now!”

You were hit in the back of the head, thrown into a wrestle with another guy on the ground. You bit his hand, making him cry out, before you headbutted him. 

“You couldn’t even hear his name without having to remind people you were ‘just friends’!”

“We were just friends, Share! You know that!”

You heard her shoot of a gun a few times as you smacked someone in the back of the head with the butt of your gun, trying to save ammo. “You really never did anything about it?!”

“No!”

She glanced at you incredulously from across the way, bodies now littering the ground. “And you don’t regret that?”

“No.” You sighed at her look, relenting. “Yes. Kind of. I dunno. I mean…he’s happy with his decision, and for me that’s enough.”

“But doesn’t it hurt?”

“Of course it hurts. It hurts like hell. But-”

“But you still have him so it’s all good.”

You bit your lip, shrugging. “Something like that.”

Sharon tilted her head, confused. “So why don’t you tell him?”

“I dunno. I don’t think either of us is ready.”

“C’mon. I saw you two earlier. You should’ve just kissed him.”

Rolling your eyes, you frowned when you noticed something missing. “Ah shit. My ear piece. It must’ve fallen out earlier.” You looked around, but Sharon stopped you, nodding her head between a couple shipping containers. 

“Don’t worry about it. Mine broke a little while ago, too. Let’s go get the guys. Tell them we need to leave.”

You nodded and started running with her to the unit Nagel’s lab was in. You followed her around the corner, only to widen your eyes and shove her out of the way. Two gunshots rang out, Sharon catching the guy right between the eyes, while the man’s bullet grazed your shoulder.

“Ow, fuck.” You hissed, hand immediately going up to clamp your wound.

“Dammit! You shouldn’t have done that, you idiot!”

You gave her a look. “You’re welcome.”

Rolling her eyes, she quickly tore off part of your shirt. “Hey!”

“First off, this is my shirt. Second, I’m just making it more of a crop top. Third, it’s your own fault, so quit your whining.”

“Touchy touchy.” You grumbled, wincing when she tied it around your arm.

“Just come on. And hey,” she turned to you as she sprinted with your wrist in her hold. “My advice? Don’t wait. Seriously. I know it must be weird, the whole he’s his best friend, he was your best friend, now he’s your best friend, thing you’ve got going on, but there’s nothing else stopping you. Steve made his choice. And he’d be fine with whatever you choose as long as you’re happy.”

You shook your head. “But Bucky’s still healing-”

“So? He’s already been on dates. I think you’re just using that as an excuse to protect your heart from hurting again. Trust me; Barnes isn’t going anywhere.”

Not able to respond since you were making your way to the guys in Nagel’s lab, you bit your lip, hating that she got the last say in the conversation. She definitely planned it so she would. “We’re outta time, fellas.”

As if things couldn’t get worse Zemo - that fucking snake, you knew he was gonna do something stupid - took out a gun he got from who knows where. You sure as hell didn’t let him have a gun. Before you could stop him, he shot Nagel, your best, your only, lead.

“Goddammit!” You growled as Sam and Sharon restrained him. “You fucking-”

The explosion came next, again happening faster than you could react. Bucky grabbed you and pulled you underneath him, covering you with his body as glass and metal flew around you. With ringing ears, you groaned, squinting your eyes open.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You were vaguely aware of the alarms going off, a red light blinking behind Bucky’s head. You nodded, his worried eyes softening just slightly at your response. “We gotta get out-”

“I know, I know. C’mon.” He helped you up, eyes catching sight of the makeshift bandage on your arm. “Dammit, what did you do?”

“I’m fine.” You pushed his hands off. “Go help Sharon. We’ve gotta move. Now.” He huffed, but nodded and moved over to get Sharon. You tried to see where Zemo went through the smoke, but he was already gone.

You four made it just before the whole thing combusted due to the chemicals in the lab. So much for any evidence or leads.

The moment you got out, you were thrust into a gunfight, rolling your eyes as Bucky and Sam, once again, did their own thing.

“Are they always like this?”

“Usually it’s worse. Wait until they start arguing about who was right.” Sharon gave you an unamused look to which you nodded at, ducking when a bullet whizzed by you. “I know. It’s so annoying.”

Sure enough, when Bucky ran out of bullets, the bickering commenced, making you huff and Sharon shout at them. “Are they serious?”

You shot a few more bullets before your gun started clicking. “Dammit. Unfortunately.”

“I’m out!”

“Me too!”

Another explosion and a person you couldn’t see clearly through the haze caused a distraction for you guys to get away, Sam practically shoving you and Sharon into an open shipping container as Bucky took care of a couple more bounty hunters.

“What happened? Both of your comms went out.” Bucky growled once he came in behind you, grabbing your forearm to study your wound.

“It’s just a graze. Chill your ass down. I lost my earpiece and Sharon’s broke.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, his voice low with warning. “What. Happened.”

“We rounded a corner, the guy was there. I shoved Sharon, he shot, she shot, I got hit, he’s now dead. Happy?”

“You promised.” He snapped, finger tightening on your arm. “You said you’d save yourself first.”

“Buck, let go.” Grabbing his wrist, you tugged a bit, wincing slightly. “Seriously. Stop. That hurts.”

He blinked, his features slacking and his fingers immediately dropping your arm. “Doll, I-I…fuck.” He turned to go punch through the back wall to get out of the unit you were in.

Before you could respond and tell him it was fine, the Baron himself drove up in a slick blue convertible. You groaned at Bucky’s response to Zemo. “We need him.” God, you were getting tired of hearing that.

“You’re lucky I don’t bash your head in.” You growled at him. 

“If you try that shit again-”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Sam raised an eyebrow when Bucky got into the passenger’s seat with no hesitation, looking at you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but you shrugged and slipped into the back with Sam. Bucky and you always took the back seat. You had ever since the dumb little blue car Steve got.

You hugged Sharon in parting, knowing she couldn’t come with. “Hey.” She looked at you sternly. “Take a leap.”

“We’ll see.” You told her, sitting down and buckling.

“Do better than that, Y/L/N. And get me that pardon you promised me.” She told Sam, pointing at him..

“Thanks for everything.” She nodded, before jogging off in the opposite direction you’d be heading. Sam turned back to the front, an annoyed expression crossing his face. “You’re not gonna move your seat up, are you?”

“No.”

You snickered as Sam shot you a glare, Zemo starting to drive the car out of the shipping yard, away from the chaos.

****************

You collapsed onto the seat in front of Bucky, leaning onto the knee he had propped up against the back. He glanced up at you, face blank, before looking back down at his metal hand he was cleaning.

“Here. Let me see-”

“I got it.” He grumbled, shifting away from where your hands reached for his.

Your eyes widened, stunned at his reaction. “Bucky, just let me-”

“I said no, Y/N.” Your name. Again. You can’t remember him calling you ‘doll’ since before the shipping yard explosion.

“Are you okay?” He merely grunted. You straightened off his leg, swatting his knees with the back of your hand. “Hey.”

He shifted again, planting his feet on the floor. “Stop.”

“No.”

He shot you a warning glare. “Y/N-”

“Stop calling me that.”

“It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“What is wrong with you?” You scrunched up your features in confusion and concern. “Is this about my arm? I told you it’s fine.” You got no response except his eye flickering to your now properly bandaged shoulder. “Why are you acting so weird?”

He shrugged. “I’m not.”

You scoffed in disbelief, jaw dropping. “You’re not.”

“Nope.”

“Fine.” You stood up, brushing your legs off, the bare skin having splotches and smears of dirt and dust. “If you wanna be like that, go ahead. Brood. Be a child. When you’re ready to talk to me about whatever the hell is bothering you, like an adult, I’ll be in the back room.”

You only took two steps before he called out for you. “Doll.” You turned around, an expectant look on your features as you crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one foot. He looked up at you nervously, before looking down and picking at the metal plates of his hand. “I got scared.”

Your features softened, your head tilting gently. “Scared?”

“When you stopped talking. You and Sharon…you were talking. But both of your comms went down around the same time and I…it scared me. I-I don’t get scared anymore. Not the way I did when your voice stopped. I didn’t mean to hurt you…” His voice got quieter at the last sentence, his eyes looking to the purple handprint on your forearm.

“It was an accident, Buck.” You reassured him, settling back down in front of him. “It’s fine. You were still reeling it in from the bar. I know it’s hard for you to judge your strength like that. Steve had problems like that too.” You looked down at the rag he was holding, putting your hand out.

He licked his lips, before handing you the rag. You got off the couch to shift so you were sitting between his legs, his chest to your back. Holding his metallic hand between both of yours, you set to work, gingerly wiping away the grime, picking at the filth that wedged itself between the plates.

“He,” you chuckled, shaking your head at the moment you were remembering. “He accidentally gave me a concussion once when we were sparring. At first it was awesome; he got me my favorite take out and took me to the movies and all that. But then he just started getting annoying. Wouldn’t even let me reach for the TV remote on the coffee table a yard away.”

“Can I ask you something?” You hummed, tilting your head slightly when you felt his chin hooking on your shoulder, giving him more room. “How long did you love him?”

Freezing, you raised an eyebrow and turned to face him. “What?”

“You and Sharon. When you were talking…your comms were on.”

“How-” You swallowed thickly, a lump suddenly forming in the back of your throat. “How much did you hear?”

“Yours went out right after you admitted you were in love with him. Hers went out after you said you were just friends.”

Holding in a sigh of relief, you went back to cleaning his hand. “I don’t really know exactly when it happened. After the Battle of New York, maybe. So 2012, I guess? I dunno. I was getting up from falling for him, though. A few years later.”

“Was?”

“I - yeah. I kind of…fell again.”

He hummed, leaning back, taking his chin off your shoulder and unwinding his arm from your waist. “He’s an easy person to fall for. Hell, I’m pretty sure I had a crush on him once upon a time.”

You chuckled at that, raising an eyebrow over your shoulder at him. “I never said I fell for him again. But, yeah. You’re right.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “You like someone else?”

“It’s…complicated.”

“Oh…” He cleared his throat as you went back to his hand. “Uh…so you don’t still love him? Steve, I mean?”

“He was the first person I really loved, Bucky. A part of me will always love him.”

Bucky fingers twitched in your hold, the fingers on his other hand tapping against his thigh. “You know…he loved you too.”

You sighed, closing your eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“It’s true-”

“He left, James. If he loved me, why would he leave?”

You could feel his hesitation as his next words left his lips. “I-I dunno.” That was a lie. You could hear it in his voice. If there was one person Steve trusted more than you, it was Bucky. Of course he knew.

“Listen, I really don’t want to talk about this-”

“It’s in the notebook.” You bit your lip as Bucky shifted, pulling out the little notebook from his pocket. “He made lists - he liked lists. He made lists of things you said that made him laugh. Songs that reminded him of you. Little quirks you do that he noticed over the years. He missed you every time you went on a mission and prayed you’d get back safely.”

“James, please-”

“He didn’t want me to let you know. But I had to tell you. You have to know. He loved you.”

You let out a shaky breath as he placed the book on your thigh. You stared at it for a moment, before grabbing it and placing it in his left hand, closing his fingers around it and standing up. “I think…I’m gonna go rest for a bit in the back room. Holler if you need me.”

You didn’t wait for a response, moving quickly to the small back room of the plane which you got dressed in only a couple days ago. It only had one arm chair and instead of a door there was a curtain, but you were fine with that, plopping down in the chair and reclining.

Why? Why would he bring that up? Did he hear more than he said? Was he trying to let you down easy before you could even tell him how you felt? Did he get spooked after dancing? After the almost-kiss?

You never thought of Steve in the wrong. After all he’d done for the world in his life, he deserved to be selfish - to be happy. And Peggy gave him that. But why? Why would he leave if he loved you so dearly? If he really did what Bucky said? He wouldn’t. He’s not cruel. He wouldn’t up and leave, without even saying goodbye, knowing how deeply you loved him and feeling the same about you. This was Steven Grant Rogers for crying out loud! He wouldn’t…right?

But Bucky…he wouldn’t lie to you. He wouldn’t tell you that, especially knowing how much you missed the lovable blonde. And you knew his words held at least some truth. Actions spoke louder than words, and as something Bucky said repeated itself in your mind, you started slipping into a memory, your eyes shutting and your breaths evening out.

“He missed you every time you went on a mission and prayed you’d get back safely.”

~

The incessant knocking made you groan, shouting that you were coming and mumbling curses. You barely threw open the door before his worried voice hit your ears. “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“Stevie.” You sighed, rubbing your eyes and looking over at the clock on the wall. “Bubs…it’s two in the morning. I just got back, like, an hour ago.”

He shuffled, pink lips in a pout, eyes round and distressed. “I know, honey. I know. I’m sorry. But I heard you got hurt-”

You shook your head, a small giggle of amusement leaving your lips and you lifted your right hand, letting him see the black split holding your ring and pinky fingers. “I jammed my fingers in a door. The doc said I’ll be fully healed in a month at most.”

His eyes darted across your face and down your body, scanning for any more injuries. After glancing at your hands again, they finally landed on your eyes once more. Next thing you knew, you were being held against his chest, his face in the crook of your neck. You hummed softly, running your fingers down his spine, moving the two of you deeper into your apartment so you could shut the door.

“Don’t ever do that again. I gotta have faith in something and if you come home hurt, it’ll be crushed.”

Your eyebrows knit together. At his strange wording. “What’s that mean?”

“It means you have to promise me you’ll stay safe, honey.” He pulled back and held your face between his hands. “Please.”

“I can promise I’ll try my best.” You teased lightly, smiling at him and booping his nose, making him grin, although it was strained. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? We’ll turn on some TV in my room and you can keep me safe while I get much needed sleep.”

That made his grin relax into a real one, his head nodding in agreement. “Sounds perfect.”

“C’mon, bubs.” You took his hand, leading him to your room. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and you’ll catch some zzzz’s too.”

~

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

“What the hell was that?”

Bucky turned to Sam, who was gaping at him in utter disbelief, looking from the assassin to the doorway Y/N just walked through. “She needed to know.”

“Buck, she’s been dealing with some shit. And we both know something’s going on that she isn’t telling us. Her “zoning out” isn’t just zoning out, and we know that. She doesn’t need you confusing her even more.”

“Confusing her?”

Sam blinked, his troubled expression falling into a deadpan. “Are you fucking with me? No. There’s no way you’re that naive. Seriously?! Man, c’mon!”

Bucky scrunched up his face. “What?”

“She likes you, man! Everyone knows it!”

The brunette shook his head, forehead creased. “No. No, you heard her, Sam. She’s in love with Steve.”

“Was in love. As in past tense.”

“But-but she said- she likes someone else-”

“Barnes!” Sam threw his hands up, exasperated. “You are someone else!”

“I thought you two were already-”

Bucky pointed warningly at Zemo. “Watch it. Wait, wait-” He turned back to Sam. “But I heard her-”

“Bucky…man…” Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Listen, I can’t tell you everything. I’m not about to break my girl’s trust like that. But you gotta hear me when I tell you she likes you. What do you think almost happened at the party?”

“She - I - it was…an accident?”

Sam spluttered, eyes wide. “An accident? You two grinding and nearly making out was an accident?!”

“Woah! We were not…grinding-”

Zemo hummed. “Hmm…you kind of were.”

Bucky glared at him. “Thin. Fucking. Ice.” He whipped back to Sam. “I just remind her of him.”

“What?! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! You remind her of Steve? Yes, granted your both dumbasses, but she knows both of you enough to know there’s quite a few big differences.”

“Wilson-”

Sam held up his hand, shutting Bucky up. “You like her. Yes or no.”

Bucky huffed, looking down at the hand she was holding only minutes ago. “Yes.” He finally relented. “Since the first couple months in Wakanda.”

“Steve liked her. Yes or no.”

He ran a hand through his hair, nodding his head. “Yes. Yes he liked her. I wasn’t lying about that.”

“So explain something to me.” Sam crossed his arms. “Why is it that Steve isn’t here, and you are?”

Bucky crossed his arms, brooding - although he’d never admit it - while staring out the window. “Steve…knew. I liked her. And, yes, he loved her, but he also loved Peggy. So he…”

“He told you to take your chance with Y/N, and he went back to be with his first love.”

HYDRA’s former fist nodded with a sigh. “Something like that.”

“You need to tell her.”

“I can’t.”

Sam groaned. “Why not?!”

“Because!” Bucky took a breath, trying not to shout and alert the sleeping girl in the room over, his ears tuning into her slowed heartbeat to make sure she was okay. “Because Steve has her heart, Sam. The whole thing just…I’m jealous of him. Because he got her first. And then I get mad because he didn’t do shit about it. And then I feel guilty because all the shit he put up with for me and here I am complaining…and then I just get…depressed because he’s not here. I used to be the one who fixed his problems. But after I got out…he’s been the one fixing mine. And I just…I don’t know what to do.”

Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I get it. That’s valid. But stop whining and moping around about it. It happened. And you need to get your shit together. If not for your sake, for hers. Because she lost him too. And she’s probably feeling those exact same feelings.”

“But…she’s his girl-”

“No. She’s not. He made his choice.” Sam nodded towards Bucky. “Now you gotta make yours,  Buckaroo.”

He shot him a glare. “You can’t call me that.”

“Why not? Y/N calls you that.”

“Y/N has a plan.”

“We both know that’s not true, Buckaroo. Hey! That one rhymed!”

Bucky shook his head with a scowl. “I will beat your ass, Wilson.”

Sam scoffed, shoving Bucky’s head playfully. “Stop being a dumbass and tell her. Buckaroo.”

“That’s it!”

Bucky tackled Sam to the ground, Zemo giving them an amused expression before leaving to talk to Oeznik. They were so wrapped up in their wrestling session, they didn’t notice the woman leaning against the wall, tired eyes barely opened as her eyebrows raised, unimpressed.

“Are you fellas done?’

They both stopped, shooting up when they noticed her. “Doll, I-”

She shook her head. “Don’t, Buck. Not right now. I’m just really tired.”

“Did we wake you?” Sam winced.

She shook her head again, yawning. “No. I just needed to use the restroom.”

Bucky couldn’t help the small smile as she rubbed her eyes, stretching her arms overhead, making that ripped crop top ride higher up. She was too cute. And she didn’t even realize it.

“Sleep well, doll. We’ll try to keep it down.”

She nodded, turning and waving over her shoulder. “You two try getting sleep, too, alright? Goodnight, Sammy.”

“Night, cher.”

“Sweetheart?” She peeked through the curtain, tilting her head slightly. “You know I love you, right?”

A small smile quirked up her lips, but it was sadder than the ones his question usually elicited. “As long as you know I love you.”

He nodded, returning the half-smile. “G’night, doll.”

“Goodnight, Buckaroo.”

[whirlybirbs]

          (  this chapter’s gif by @ransomflanagan​ from this beautiful set !  )

✪   —   VACANT MIRRORS  ;  B.B.  |  5/?

summary: your plan goes to asbolute shit.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 9k, please pray for my fingers

a/n: there’s action, there’s gunshot wounds, there’s canon appropriate violence! this one has a lot of plot, a lot of action, and i truly want to sleep for seven days after writing this. you should listen to the glass cannon’s club playlist while you read, though, for vibez.

       (   PREVIOUSLY   |    AO3    |    MASTERLIST   |   NEXT  )

You do have a plan.

Maybe it’s a little vague, a little messy, and a little up-in-the-air, but it’s a plan.

Get in, find Kiwi, avoid a handful of unsavory characters, and access the Alexandria Library.

Getting the hell out The Glass Cannon once you and Bucky were in was going to be a whole different plan entirely — one that was more improv than anything else. Hopefully, running a quick facial recognition program wouldn’t take long. With any luck, it would get a hit on any more recent aliases Innessa Sidrova was using after parsing the motherload of information Kiwi held onto with her life.

Kiwi wasn’t always known as Kiwi. She worked at SHIELD, like you, and back then she was known as Suji Awal. She stuck around longer — and she’d stayed on board during the active collapse to do heaven-sent work. It was an absolute Hail Mary, but while HYDRA had tried to purge all of SHIELD’s cloud data to protect their active agents and decades of progress, Suji had beat the hare in the race. Two steps ahead, she’d managed to pull nearly 97% of all confidential data including mission reports, agent profiles, and even electronic correspondence. While the metaphorical fire burned the documents behind her, she’d managed to salvage one of the only surviving, comprehensive looks at SHIELD before the curtain was pulled back to reveal HYDRA’s infection.

It had been used to try multiple HYDRA agents in the wake of it all in the federal courts. It was significant evidence, but after nearly all was reaped from the crop, Suji had taken the aptly named Alexandria Library and gone underground. Now, Kiwi was just another hacker in the thick of it and the Alexandria files were all but whispers.

It’s all about knowing the right people in the end.

Kiwi was a regular at The Glass Cannon. There was a nine out of ten chance you’d find her there. And if you didn’t find Kiwi, you’d probably find Climber and… Well, going to him wasn’t the most ideal situation, but out of the menagerie of acquaintances you’d gathered up throughout the years, you could trust Climber. He’d send you Kiwi’s way if you finally called in that favor he owed you. Either way, you’d find her and you’d get the files.

You just needed to avoid Alexei Gardzov.

Easy. Ish.

In truth, you barely get anything done Thursday — you’re too preoccupied in your head, running over the so-called plan even now as you fold laundry in the basement of your apartment complex.

You’d dug around in your closet, trying to find some semblance of an outfit. It was difficult. It wasn’t like the barely-there dresses and platform shoes were your thing anymore. Back then, your diet was mostly energy drinks and alcohol — in a way, it’s a relief to find that a good number of your staple outfits no longer fit. It made you feel like you really had put all this behind you.

You have.

Sure, it was the Rabbit you were going to have to be for tonight, but you’re not the Rabbit you were eight years ago. Good thing, too. You’re not too sure you and Bucky would have gotten along otherwise. Right now, your relationship with him was the biggest thing keeping you afloat — for the first time in a long time, you feel like you have some sort of purpose, even if it was a vague one at best.

You knew Innessa Sidrova was a threat — and you knew Bucky had to remedy that threat. You knew he felt responsible for creating her, for planting her in a position of power where she could manipulate and control. In truth, there was still a lot of vagueness surrounding his past. He’d made it clear he hasn’t been himself for a long time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to wade through the muck of his trauma to pluck out your answers. It just felt wrong.

If you were to say you hadn’t been tempted to go out on your own and dig, that’d be a lie.

Even now, as you pull out the ink-black top from the dryer and fold it neatly on top of the other pieces of laundry needed for tonight, you can feel it sparking like a lighter in the back of your head.

He was keeping something from you.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You nearly jump six feet in the air.

It’s Miss Bonnie — and she’s laughing when her feet touch the cold concrete of the unfinished floor. Her basket of laundry is balanced neatly on her hip, and she walks with a smirk on her face. Her hair is piled neatly on top of her head, and as she bends to plop the basket down, she offers a wink.

“I could hear you thinking from upstairs,” she ruminates, paisley and dyed skirts kissing the ground, “Like a little steam engine.”

You laugh quietly into your task. You duck your head and heft a black bra and jeans from the dryer. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She looks up, eyes moving carefully from the laundry pile to your face. Her eyes glimmer with quiet curiosity. “And a big night planned, huh?”

You snort. “What was the giveaway?”

“It’s always the lacey bras,” she chirps and slides a smirk your way as she waggles a finger at your pile, “And the strappy little bodysuit was a good hint, too.”

You exhale with a laugh, bracing a hand against the dryer. She’s not wrong — you’d really forgone comfort with this outfit lineup. It was temporary, though, and well worth the efforts if it meant helping Bucky tick off a name from his list of amends. You knew how much those meant to him.

“So,” she continues, voice muddled as she continues to load the washer, “I take it this friend of yours is really helping you out of your shell?”

“I guess so. Yeah. It’s — It’s sort of a mutual shell-cracking, I guess.”

“Mm,” a hum, “You sound troubled, though.”

Your mouth opens as your fingers trace the line of the bodysuit. You pause, and you rock back on your heels. Miss Bonnie notices.

She waits patiently, bent at the knees.

“You ever just…” you wave your hand, “Feel like — I don’t know. He’s my friend. My best friend, honestly, and that’s… Really saying a lot. But, there’s stuff under the surface and I know it’s not my business but…”

Out comes a strangled groan.

“What? Like a crazy ex-girlfriend?”

“No, no — I don’t think so,” you mutter, “Wouldn’t surprise me, though.”

“Handsome?” she asks, smiling.

You close your eyes and ignore the smile on your face as you reply. “Yea, handsome.”

“Well, have you tried asking?” she shrugs as she stands, “Not about the crazy ex, but about the stuff you’re worried about? It never hurts.”

“Problem is, I don’t really think it’s too much of my business.”

Miss Bonnie hums at that and presses the start on her washer. She’s quiet for a bit, swaying slightly as she weighs the conversation and you watch — enamored with the older woman’s calm wisdom. She gestures openly with ringed hands.

“I think it’s normal for us to want to know everything about those we care about,” she says, “We want to know how we can protect them, how we can comfort them. But… it comes in due time. All of it does. You’ll find a time when he does open up about the ex, or whatever it is on his mind. You’re friends, after all.”

You’re nodding, chest tight with thanks.

Miss Bonnie’s face is soft.

“You got a picture?” she chirps like a bird looking for a worm, “I wanna see who this little friend is. And if he really is as handsome as you’re suggesting...”

You scoff and lean to dig out your phone.

“Cut it out,” you mumble as she moves closer, “No playing matchmaker.”

“Sure, sure,” she waves, leaning to watch as you scroll through your camera roll.

The only photo you have of Bucky is there from Tuesday night — after he’d housed nearly an entire container of noodles and promptly passed out during the third Lord of the Rings movie. You’d woken up around one in the morning to find that Poke had unceremoniously curled up on top of the supersoldier’s chest. Bucky’s hand was still in the calico’s fur as he dozed, the colors of the TV painting his face all sorts of peaceful. You’d taken the photo, shoving it in his face after gently nudging him awake.

He’s laughed.

You gesture to show Miss Bonnie.

Like ice, she freezes.

You notice a microexpression dart across her face, but it’s gone in an instant. You can’t pin it, but the way she bends to pull the phone closer and zoom in on her face comes off as interest. You blink, label it as shock, and move on.

Her voice sounds different.

“Handsome,” she mumbles plainly, preoccupied with the sight, “I get it now. What’s his name?”

“Bucky,” you say as she hands the phone back, “He’s… He’s a good person.”

Miss Bonnie just nods.

You tuck your phone away and plop your laundry into your basket. Ignoring the sudden quiet that had crept between you both, you haul up the stack and offer her a gentle smile. She’s fiddling with the washer’s timer.

“Thank you, Miss Bonnie.”

“Of course,” she rushes out, smiling gently, “And be safe tonight.”

“I will.”

With your promise, you ascend the stairs.

In that basement, Bonnie McLayne is no more, and instead, Innessa Sidrova remembers that night in Moscow, back in 1975.

She remembers the Winter Soldier.

                                      ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

Bucky calls you three times with no answer.

Normally, he’d just give up — but it was Thursday, and you weren’t answering the buzzer to your apartment either. He tries his best to ignore the strike of panic that sparks in his chest. It could stoke a wildfire, really, but he pushes it down and remembers to breathe. He doesn’t let himself think about what he’d do if something happened to you.

After all, you’re probably fine. Sleeping, maybe. The both of you had a long night ahead.

(Longer than either of you realize, really.)

It’s nearly seven o’clock, and after trying your cell one more time from his perch on your apartment’s stoop, Bucky decides to say fuck it.

A well-adjusted person might frown upon what he was about to do, but Bucky wasn’t exactly well-adjusted, now was he?

He rounds the back alley with long strides and easily finds that, with a little maneuvering, he can hoist himself upwards on top of the nearest dumpster. With a well-timed hop, he can also snag the bottom of the fire escape’s ladder and haul it downwards. The rest is easy, and he’s scaling the fire escape to the third floor with ease before he even knows it.

There’s even a smug little smirk on his face the whole time he does.

Finding your window is a little harder, but Bucky eventually spots Poke’s round little body smushed against the glass — it’s a dead giveaway, and after some prowling, he finds the window to your living room and unceremoniously throws it open.

It’s unlocked, for whatever reason, and he makes a mental note to have a conversation with you about safety and security in the city. After all, you never knew when an ex-assassin supersoldier was going to break in and pet your cat.

Upon opening the window, he pieces together pretty quickly why you’re not answering. Could be the music coming from your bedroom, or even the singing that’s coupled alongside it. From the bathroom across the hall from your room, steam has settled above on the ceiling. The whole apartment smells like fruit and soap and perfume and Bucky’s not really sure how to parse through all the sensory experiences that greet him with he shimmies in through the window, legs first.

All in all, they make him smile.

Bucky shuts the window behind him as he’s quickly greeted by Poke — the calico offers a gratuitous little chirp when Bucky bends to scoop up the cat. Easily, he melts. Poke is purring loudly in his ear as Bucky takes a moment to survey your apartment a little bit closer. Mr. Poke Bowl rubs his face against Bucky’s stubble as the man weaves through the kitchen.

It’s very you.

He isn’t really sure what that means at the end of the day, but all he knows is that he feels at home here. He feels safe. He feels comfortable. He feels like he can be himself. Not James, not Sergeant Barnes, not The Winter Soldier. Not even Steve’s Bucky, but just… his Bucky. Himself. Sarcastic and exhausted and a little cynical.

Bucky lets Poke down on the counter and moves to the fridge.

There’s still beer from the other night in there, tucked in the back, so he makes easy work on popping open a bottle and busying himself with petting a very adamant Poke.

As he sips the Leinenkugel, it’s no small coincidence that his phone buzzes again — for what feels like the hundredth time today — with a message from Janelle.

She was nice — pretty, too. Once upon a time, she would have been his type.

That was before he met you, though.

There’s a little pinprick of mortification at that quiet confession that’s been slipping into his heart more and more in the last few days. You are, after all, his best friend. He’s your best friend. Guilt swims with the feelings that have begun to pluck his heartstrings and he has to admit he’s not too comfortable with the song they play.

His biggest fear is fucking this up.

Fucking you up.

Honestly, his track record isn’t great. The whole defrosted-international-threat bit made it a little difficult to date. Janelle seemed to think the date had gone well enough, though, hence the handful of texts he’d been getting every few hours asking if he’s free.

Like usual, he ignores them.

Exercising his own free will is hard sometimes. Especially when it comes to saying no.

Taking another swig of the beer, Bucky shoves his phone back into his pocket and tucks his fingers back into Poke’s fur. The calico’s tail swings patiently as he sits and watches — and it’s a little weird how human his eyes are for a second there. He mmrrps and lunges for Bucky’s hand when he comes close, bonking his head eagerly against the cool vibranium.

It’s a different sensation.

That’s another big adjustment — learning how things really feel with this new arm. It’s not just handling recoil or gripping knives or throwing punches. It’s the soft tickle of fur, the gentle pressure of a warm rag to clean the joints. Meticulous upkeep wasn’t something HYDRA did often. He doesn’t miss the twinge of pain and molasses-like stickiness that came with a dirty arm. Blood was the worst. Always sat deep in the cracks.

He flexes his fingers. Poke meows again.

He moves to plop down on the couch. Poke follows.

You’re singing, still, to some song that Bucky’s never heard, when you push open your bedroom door and move towards the living room.

You jump six feet in the air and scream when you see him just sitting there, clutching a beer and petting Poke like he fucking lives here rent-free.

Bucky’s reaction is muted, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with your outfit and your jewelry and the pink eye shadow that creeps up your brow-bone. There’s glitter on your eyelids and lip gloss on your mouth and he can smell some sort of candy-sweet perfume coming off you. The plunging neckline of the jet-black top is enough to leave him shifting his gaze back up to your startled expression with a tight jaw.

His face is blank.

Then he offers that stupid fucking smile he does. Y’know, the tight-lipped one where he somehow maintains a dead-eyed look the whole time. If you weren’t trying to calm your racing heartbeat, you might have laughed. You hate the white-hot flare it sparks in your chest.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” you hiss, waving your hands.

“We need to have a serious conversation about locking our windows,” he says as he kicks his feet up on the coffee table and wags a finger at you, “Also, what are you wearing?”

“You — You fucking broke in through my window?”

“Yea, well, you were too busy pretending to be Britney Spears to hear me try and buzz up, and my phone calls.”

Sheepishly, you cross your arms. “Nice reference—”

A shrug from Bucky. “Thank you.”

“—Also, what are you wearing?”

He looks down at his usual t-shirt, leather jacket combo. He squints back up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he chirps, “You’re talking to me? Did the department store run out of fabric, Rabbit?”

You self-consciously adjust the plunging neckline of the bodysuit as you frown deeply. “I think I’m gonna skip on the fashion advice from the man who lived in a time where ankles were seen as scandalous.”

“I was born in 1917,” he mumbles as he stands, actively avoiding another pass over your outfit because as much as he hates to admit it, it’s not a bad look on you, “Not 1817.”

“Point being, we’re going to a club. And you look like you’re going to the local Home Depot,” you move to snag a set of dangly earrings that are sitting on the coffee table, “We’ve gotta look like we’re there to party, nothing more.”

Bucky sighs. He finishes the beer, places the bottle down and sheds his jacket. “So, what?”

You pry your eyes away from the flash of skin — his arm, flesh and blood, speaks to how strong he is. And, undoubtedly how easy it was for him to fucking scale three stories of the fire escape to bust in.

“So,” you mumble as you thread the earring in, “I have some of Jaimie’s old shirts. There’s probably something you can use… If they fit.”

Bucky exhales softly. “You kept them?”

“Didn’t have the heart to throw them out,” you reply as you gesture for him to follow you into your bedroom.

The back of your top is arguably more crisis-inducing than the front — it’s an open back, and Bucky settles on admiring the decor rather than the curve of your spine. He has to. For his own fucking self-composure.

Your bedroom is nice — and like the rest of your space, it makes him feel comfortable. It’s all warm colors and posters and plants in the corners. Across from your queen-sized bed, there’s a large desk with a triple monitor setup. That’s where the music is coming from. The little knick-knacks on your shelves and desk make him chuckle.

Then, he stops, halfway to the closet, and stares.

You blink over your shoulder as you bend, digging to the back of your closet to pull out the clear bin you’d piled most of Jaimie’s stuff into after the funeral. After you’d cleaned out his apartment on your own.

He’s looking at the poster — the one from Cap’s USO tour. It’s framed nicely, set up on the wall beside your desk. It’s got a gold frame, and Bucky can’t help but wander closer to look at the signature.

It’s Steve’s alright.

“How much did you pay for this?”

You scoff. Your necklaces tinker together. “Don’t even go there.”

“The jerk signed thousands of these,” he mumbles, crossing his arms as he leans closer, “And still, the fame didn’t go to his head.”

You smile softly, leaning back.

“Jealous?” you chirp, raising your brows as you pretend to swoon, “Oh, Sergeant Barnes, I’d just love to meet your dear friend—”

Bucky’s laughing as you swat at his knee, leaning back on the carpet like a damsel in distress.

“Shut up,” he snorts, “It’s a sore subject for me.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m serious — do you know how many dates I had to set up for the chump? And then, boom. I’m invisible.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter with a smile, unclicking the lid, “Some people just like blondes, Buck. I’m sure there were plenty of eyes on you. Stop being so dramatic.”

“Yea, the best friend, sure,” he mumbles at the poster, “Hell, he was taller than me. You know you don’t need to lie to me—”

“Listen, if I was some Lauren Bacall-looking nurse back then,” you wave your hands, “I’d have gone for you. Alright? Stop lamenting and get over here.”

He goes quiet and ignores the warmth in his cheeks. He squats by your side. “Shut up.”

“We seriously need to work on taking compliments,” you groan, throwing your head back, “I’m being serious, y’know, for once. And I’m not just saying it as your friend. You’re handsome and everyone knows it except you, apparently. My neighbor agrees that’s for sure.”

He squints.

You wave it off and gesture to your outfit. “She saw me doing laundry.”

“That explains nothing,” Bucky deadpans, “Literally nothing.”

“I showed her a picture,” you cry indignantly, moving to shuffle through some of the old t-shirts sitting on top of the bin, “Relax.”

He moves to plop down, crossing his legs beneath him. He decides to let the topic die — again, for his own self-composure more than anything. The compliment, though vehemently denied by the worst part of him, is tucked neatly in the homes of his heart. The idea of meeting you, before now, is a little intoxicating. What would it have been like?

Would you have even spared him a dance?

Bucky rubs his cheek. Poke meows and buts the door open with his head.

You’re wrist-deep in the bin when you speak. “He’s obsessed with you, y’know.”

Poke has already taken up a post in Bucky’s lap. Bucky smiles, petting Poke gently with his vibranium hand. The cat seems to like the cool metal. Bucky mumbles softly down to the calico, scritching his cheeks. “I like him, too.”

You pause long enough to try and remember the sight.

Bucky’s eyes find yours, and you’re quick to turn back to the bin.

“Here we go,” you exhale as you pull out the shirt you’d been looking for.

It’s a long-sleeve button-down, one that you can distinctly remember Jaimie wearing to his engagement party’s after-party — a real typical night of Jaimie being Jaimie. It’s black with a barely-there red floral pattern. It’s flashy enough that Bucky won’t look horribly out of place.

The only problem is Jaimie was a little smaller than Bucky.

“Try this on,” you mumble as you dig around trying to find something else in case it doesn’t do the trick.

Bucky catches the silk shirt and gives it a once over. He raises an eyebrow, and deciding against debating this, he simply nudges Poke off his lap and stands.

He moves to your bed, laying the shirt out. On your closet door is a full-length mirror. You want to snap it in half when you accidentally catch a glimpse of Bucky hauling off his black, cotton t-shirt and anxiously fumbling with the buttons on Jaimie’s old shirt. You have to breathe — and remind yourself that that’s Bucky.

Your Bucky. Your best friend Bucky.

When he calls your name, it sounds far away. You’re busy angrily sorting through old clothes.

“I look ridiculous.”

When you turn around, the first thing you notice is that it’s a little tight. Not in a bad way, but the buttons are gapping along his chest, and it’s tight around his arms.

Your eyes widen a little and you swallow. You tilt your head.

Bucky’s frowning.

“Let me see,” you offer gently, standing and moving close, “It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t sound too sure right now,” he mumbles as you enter his personal space.

You’re nimble with undoing the top three buttons — it gives him enough room to move his shoulders, though, and the dip of the shirt along his sternum brings dog tags into view. You reach, momentarily entranced, and read them to yourself.

You smell like vanilla and sugar.

Bucky shifts in his boots.

“Y’know,” you say, moving to the sleeves, “I think this works.”

You roll the sleeves, stopping at his forearm.

When you step aside, Bucky can see himself in the full-length mirror. He looks less than enthused.

It’s not an entirely bad look — he’ll admit that much — but he doesn’t look like himself. No, there’s too much chest and skin and… Christ, this shirt is tight. He does, though, look like some of those trendy folks he sees at Izzy’s bar every now and again. Hipsters.

“I look like a douchebag.”

“That’s the point,” you chirp as you close the box and shove it back into your closet, “Now the outfit matches the personality.”

He swats at your head on the way by. You laugh.

You’ve got boots in your hand, and you land on the bed with a bounce. Bucky is busy fixing his hair in the mirror while you zip up the thigh-high boots. When he turns around, you’re about three inches taller. He blinks, yet again entranced by the outfit.

Then, you’re muscling on the jacket.

It’s neon pink — and shaggy and cropped. It falls just above your waist and swallows you whole. But, Bucky’s attention is mostly on the back.

There’s a large, white embroidered Playboy bunny there, with RABBIT written across the shoulders in a chunky, blackletter typeface.

His brows are high on his face when you turn around.

You freeze.

“...What?” you ask, “Something on my face?”

“Playboy bunny, huh?”

You could smack him. “Weren’t you busy being a frozen dinner when Playboy came out?”

“I’ll have you know,” he says tightly as he follows you out of your bedroom and to the living room, “The Russians enjoyed their fair share of editions.”

“The Russians? Sure, what’s that saying? There’s no sex in the USSR?” you chide, “You can just say Bucky Barnesenjoyed his fair share—”

The tips of his ears are red. You notice. It makes you split into a grin that worsens the pink shade that’s crawling up his neck.

He coughs. “Have you ever considered never opening your mouth again, Rabbit?”

You nudge his arm. “Nah. Bothering you is more fun.”

He shrugs on his jacket, sighs, and decides that keeping quiet is just easier.

However, that’s not entirely your plan — and you speak quickly as you pull your purse over your shoulder. You’re rummaging quietly, stacking your wallet and phone inside. You glance up at him.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he mumbles, bending to pat Poke one last time as you move to the door of your bedroom. He watches you flick all the lights off, and before you leave, you double check the calico’s food and water. He’s got enough for a few days. Bucky leans against the door frame, “Care to run me through the plan?”

Nodding, you move to open your front door.

“It’ll be easy,” you explain as you make room for him, “If we play our cards right—”

Bucky’s stopped, though, and is digging in his back pocket as his cell phone rings. You watch him exhale tightly, eyes on the screen the entire time he squeezes by you and starts down the hall. You make careful note of the delicate scowl on his face, only before you catch Miss Bonnie out of the corner of her eye.

Her door is half-cracked across the hall, and she’s watching.

She offers you a smile.

Bucky keeps walking.

You wave, lock your door, and jog to catch up to Bucky.

“Hey,” you call, “Earth to Mr. Claw Machine?”

His head snaps up. “Sorry.”

“Who was that?” you ask carefully, nudging his arm with yours, “Falcon?”

“I wish,” he mutters as he muscles the cellphone back into his pocket, “I wouldn’t feel so bad sending him to voicemail.”

“Yeesh,” you wince, “Lemme guess, was it the owner of the coral lipstick that was all over your face on Tuesday night?”

Again, that temptation to feel jealousy flares up in your heart. But, he’s here, isn’t he? With you. Ignoring her calls. And probably texts judging by the guilty look that’s on his face. You feel a little bad — but at the same time, Bucky’s a grown man. Maybe a grown man who needs to create some more transparent lines of communication with the poor woman, but still.

“Bingo. I mean — it’s not that she wasn’t great an’ all but…”

You raise both hands. “I’m not judging.”

He sighs raggedly as he bounces down the apartment’s stairs. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“What?” you ask with a laugh, “Dating? Yea, it’s pretty fucking terrifying, Buck.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

You hold the door open for him and slide him a pitying look.

“Because I am.”

The walk to The Glass Cannon is spent walking Bucky through the plan — and for the most part, he makes a point of nodding along and listening. His only real anxiety pops up at the mention of Alexei, which is relatable to say the least.

It’s dark, the streets are relatively quiet, and the spring chill has pricked your skin. Your heels click against the pavement, and you stalk along. Shoving your hands in your pockets of the pink, shag jacket, you huff.

You’re starting to feel the anxiety.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re both approaching the blue glow of the storefront.

Computers & Stuff was a family-owned and operated computer shop from the 90s that was taken over by a lesser-known hand of the Russian crime family in New York, the Gardzovs. Alexei’s father is the formal owner of the shop, and his son runs the lucrative activities of the underground club that lay beneath the graphics cards and motherboards.

Bucky, as you both near the entrance, speaks quickly. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Just follow my lead, okay?” you whisper.

The bell above the door dings when you pull open the glass door.

The lighting is sterile and if you’re real quiet, you can hear the dull hum of the fluorescents. The store is empty, save for one man behind the register.

You almost duck out the entrance at the sight of him.

Igor has been a bouncer at The Glass Cannon for as long as you’ve been a patron — and he’s also one of Alexei’s dogs. This part of the plan was something you’d considered only briefly, and for a second, you’re thankful you worried over the million and ten ways this would play out for days.

“Well, if it isn’t the little bunny.”

It’s said with malice. Igor’s tattooed hands land on the counter as he leans.

You, however, hold your head high. Bucky watches as something changes in your posture.

“Good to see you, Igor.”

“Is it?” he growls, stalking around the counter and quickly encroaching on your personal space, “Because I’m pretty sure you’re not welcome here, bunny.”

Bucky gets a good look at the man now — clearly an enforcer. He’s got prison tattoos, a shaved head. The long beard is a weak spot. Doesn’t seem to be armed. Blue eyes flick to you and the way you don’t even flinch when the man leans to breathe right in your face.

You just smile.

“I thought you’d say that,” you mumble, moving to swing your bag to the front and dig your wallet out, “But, I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

Suddenly, there’s a hundred-dollar bill slipping from your well-manicured nails into the vest pocket of the bouncer. There’s a tense pause, then, while the two of you size one another up.

“Fucking your way through college paid off, huh?” he hisses.

You stay quiet.

Bucky, though, moves between you both with a quick shove. Immediately, Igor’s attention goes to Bucky as he sizes him up — he laughs. His nose is nearly touching Bucky’s.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“You should watch your mouth,” Bucky says evenly, “Or I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

You’re careful to hide your expression; the feeling the words stir isn’t one that you’re happy about. This sudden protectiveness, though, makes you feel some sort of invincible.

Igor settles back on his heels.

He steps back.

He gestures to the back room with his head.

You keep walking when he calls out: “Careful, bunny, the dogs are going to be looking for you.”

You grit your teeth tightly and push through the fabric curtain.

He barks, taunting you.

Bucky is by your side in an instant, gaze still rooted over his shoulder at the hulking bouncer. He waits until you’ve settled down until you’ve said his name. His eyes fall to you, then to the stairwell before them.

Above it, in curled neon tubing, reads The Glass Cannon.

The windows are blacked out, but from his spot at the top of the stairs, Bucky can feel the rattle of a deep bass vibrate his ribs.

“Come on. We’re on a time crunch now.”

“Alexei?”

You nod as you lead the way down the stairs. “Word travels fast. We need to be quicker. Stick to the crowds. Remember, we just need to find Kiwi — then we bail.”

Bucky nods tensely.

Then, you open the doors.

Immediately, his eyes adjust to the darkness — neon and strobes and the pulse of purple and pink LEDs make his vision swim. It’s warmer down here, and the stairs leading down into the sub-basement is lined with people sipping drinks and chattering over the loud music. It smells like piss and beer and tobacco.

Again, Bucky watches as the person he knows melts away.

The Rabbit in front of him is different.

You reach, as if on reflex, for his hand.

When you turn around and flash him a smile, he has to swallow down a sudden rise of sheepishness.  

The sea of people part around you, and Bucky realizes quickly that people recognize you. He can see their painted lips moving, muttering things into curious ears about the pink-clad woman in front of him; there are smiles there and frowns, and shock. You’re slow in your descent, making a show of the arrival — all while Bucky begins to piece together that The Glass Cannon is larger than he originally suspected.

As they near the bottom of the landing, he can see out across the floor.

There’s a square-shaped catwalk around the dance floor, laden with dancers on their designated poles. Tables line the outside of the cavernous room, and the bars along each wall are crowded — even still, these glimpses of his surroundings come in temporary flashes of light. The music coming from the center of the dancefloor is loud. The entirety of the scene is raucous.

He can’t imagine you finding solace here.

He tightens his grip on your hand. You squeeze back.

When both of you reach the bottom of the stairwell, the sea of people swallow you in a current of dancing and drinking and laughing, and you crawl into Bucky’s personal space to shout in his ear.

You’re still holding his hand tightly, pressed to his chest, as you lean upwards to brush your cheek with his.

“Follow me, okay?”

He nods.

You begin the methodical crawl through the dancefloor, working your way to the bar — there, you pause long enough to be served a drink that’s as pink as the glitter on your eyelids. The flecks dance in the lights, and Bucky graciously accepts a shot from the bartender who smiles sweetly like honey at you.

You bat your lashes, thank her, and stand gracefully from the barstool.

You take a pointed swig and scan the floor.

Kiwi would be in one of the private booths, you suspect — she was enough of a high roller here. But, with the crowded club bursting at the seams, it was nearly impossible to get to the other side. You sway a bit on your feet, still tightly gripping Bucky’s hand in your own. You refuse to let go.

For your sake and his.

Bucky is a silent shadow, eyes roaming the club — he watches a dancer dip down low and snag a green bill from a patron. Someone beside him laughs loud, another bumping into his backside as you continue to weave to the outer rim of the room. The music is so loud his heartbeat could be mistaken for an 808, and he feels the thrum in his bones.

If he wasn’t so overwhelmed, if he was drunk, maybe it could be fun.

Finally, out of the haze of bodies, Bucky can breathe.

You’re leaning over again, speaking quickly.

“I don’t see her.”

“I can’t see shit in here,” he calls back, eyes moving along the ridge of the room. He scans the booths set into the walls, set up on platforms, and roped off with velveteen, “Where would she be?”

“Hard to tell,” you mumble, “But I think I might need to go to Plan B.”

Bucky follows your solid stare.

In the booth directly across the floor from you, there’s a man in black — black everything, save from his hair. That’s the brightest blue Bucky has ever seen. He’s swallowed by a harem of men and women who are laughing and drinking and dancing, and he’s entertaining. Ringed fingers wave in the air, face split into a laugh so wide he swears it’s a mile long. He’s got glasses on and they’re tinted blue.

Bucky watches carefully as you move to his booth.

It’s like a prey surveying a trap — you’re careful.

Finally, when you stand before it, you let go of his hand.

“Hi there, Climber.”

The whole booth falls silent. The man stiffens, back turned to you totally. Bucky watches as his hands fall and slowly, the man you’d called Climber turns around.

His expression is stone cold.

His voice, however, is as warm as a hot poker.

“Oh my goodness, is that Rabbit?”

He ascends from the booth, platform boots leaving him to tower over you — he’s no small man, either. Bucky watches as he bends to kiss both of your cheeks and hug you tightly. He, however, doesn’t pull away entirely.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” he hisses, “You want to be roadkill?”

“I need to find Kiwi,” you whisper quickly, expression almost begging, “Please.”

He pauses, dimpled chin wavering a bit. Bucky watches him sniff, push his glasses back, and readjust his posture. Climber licks his lips and his eyes dart to Bucky. He’s thinking, Bucky realizes, and after a quick moment of deliberation, he seems to cave.

“Only because I owe you.”

“I know,” you say, raising your hands, “I know.”

In a dash, his demeanor changes once more. He’s flying over to his harem, waving his hands and blowing kisses and promising he’ll be back in a flash. They whine, they moan, but Climber appeases them with another round of jello shots from strobing syringes that a waitress is carrying by.

“Come on then,” he says, “And stop looking like such a prude.”

He begins to weave.

You follow hand returning to its spot in Bucky’s like a lifeline.

You’re sipping your drink, moving through the crowd easily. There’s a slight sway in your step now, and at one point you and Climber even get noticed by a pod of people who recognize your faces. It’s met with laughing and squealing and in the fray, the both of you slip back into the crowd. Bucky is taking it all in, desperately ignoring the tingle of a panic flaring in the back of his head.

Too many people.

Soon, though, Climber is moving towards a side entrance.

It’s a back room.

Suddenly, the dim lights and neon dissolve, and instead, Bucky is flashed in the face with the abrasive sting of fluorescent lights. It no longer reeks of spilled beer, and his boots don’t stick to the ground. No, there’s quiet chatter back here — Climber continues to lead the two of you through a maze of supply crates full of booze and soda.

Then, a right turn. And a left turn.

Someone is taking inventory.

“Kiwi, I know you’re going to hate me for this—”

The woman who turns around is beautiful. She’s in the midst of eyeing an open crate that looks just like the others but fitted with a hollowed center, marking off what looks like an inventory of burner cell phones. Her brown skin is decorated with glitter, her eyes streaked with the same green shade of her tightly shaved head. The green is bright and it reminds Bucky of summer.

Suddenly, her expression sours.

“What the fuck.”

“I know—”

“No,” she snaps, raising her hand and waving to the assistant beside her to take her tablet and make themselves scarce, “You need to get out of here.”

“I need your help,” you say finally, tone heavy.

It’s enough to make Climber sigh. Kiwi watches you, scratches her neck, and swallows.

She meets Climber’s eyes.

Then she breaks.

“Where the fuck have you been, Rabbit?” she asks, worries seeping into her eyes as she pulls you into a rough hug, “We thought you were dead.”

“No,” you shake your head, “But you know I couldn’t be around here anymore.”

“Yea,” Climber snorts, “Not good for your health, huh, love?”

“Alexei still wants your head,” Kiwi chimes in, crossing her arms, “Does he know you’re here?”

“Igor was on the door, so I’m sure he’s heard by now.”

Both of them curse.

Guilt flashes across your face as you screw your eyes shut and nod. “I know. I know, I just… I seriously need your help, Kiwi. It was worth the risk. It’s — HYDRA. I need to tap into the Alexandria Library.”

Immediately, the woman stiffens.

Her eyes flash to Bucky in the corner. He stares back.

“He waits outside.”

“You can trust him—”

“No,” she snaps, “I can’t. And I don’t. And I won’t.”

You give Bucky a pleading look. Between the two of you, a negotiation happens between your eyes. It’s a compromise, and finally, Bucky relents.

“Fine,” Bucky barks, tilting his head and giving you a tight-lipped smile, “Fine. I’ll wait out here.”

“He’s cute,” mumbles Climber as Bucky rounds the corner, long legs carrying him out of the supply room, “Boyfriend?”

“Shut up, Climber,” you mumble, waving your hand, “Just listen—”

“Who is he?” Kiwi asks, eyes still watching the doorway, “And why did you bring him along?”

You sigh, rubbing your brow. “He’s the one who’s trying to find this HYDRA agent. He knew her before.”

“So he’s HYDRA.”

“No,” you snap cooly, “He’s not.”

“So, just handsome, then?” Climber asks, hands waving, “Right. Great. Really making a case for yourself, Rabbit.”

“He’s trying to find a woman named Innessa Sidrova. She was one of the original agents who helped form the American HYDRA cell,” you explain quickly, “I’ve got the GRC breathing down my neck, and… And he’s a good person. He’s my friend. I’m trying to help him, but I can’t do it without you. Both of you.”

Kiwi hums. She sighs. “That explains why you went MIA.”

“Aside from putting Alexei behind bars?” you scoff, “Yea, the GRC played a part in it.”

The three of you are quiet for a moment.

“Fine.”

You look up at Kiwi. Her hands are on her waist.

There’s an immense wash of relief that floods over you at that moment — and from the looks of it, Kiwi can tell. You move to grab her hand, and she grabs back. Both of you smile, and the hug that follows is warm. You’ve missed her. A lot.

“Thank you, Suji.”

Then, footsteps.

That relief is traded in for an anxious backfire of fear in an instant.

It’s slow. Dress shoes on polished cement.

Then:

“Oh, bunny, bunny, bunny. Tsk, tsk.”

Climber and Kiwi’s faces upturn to the doorway and they tell you everything you need to know.

So, you decide at that moment that you won’t be the prey tonight.

You turn around and come face-to-face with a man playing devil.

Alexei Gardzov is a handsome man — a beard and piercing grey eyes. His hair is tightly cropped, and intricate tattoos decorate every inch of his skin. Some of them are new, you realize, and there’s temporary pride that bubbles up at them. They’re from prison.

You almost smile.

Behind him, three goons loom.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d come hopping back,” he croons as he enters the room with the swagger of a man who trapped his dinner, “Well worth the wait, I think.”

His cologne hangs like smog in the air. He strolls up to you, and in a flash, he’s got your hair in a vice grip.

He yanks it back, you grit your teeth.

The barrel of a gun digs into your cheek.

“Climber, Kiwi, and Rabbit,” he sing-songs, “All in one room again like it’s NYU’s 2014 hack-a-thon. Isn’t that cute?”

Kiwi speaks. “Alexei—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, gun moving to flash towards Kiwi, “And stay out of my business, Sujina.”

The gun’s muzzle is cold. He’s rough, and you try to ignore the twinge of pain that comes with his unceremonious yank of your hair. Once more, he tsks. His breath is hot on your face. He smells like cigarettes and whiskey.

“I spent seven years behind bars,” he bites, “All because a’ you.”

“Me? I wasn’t the one trafficking girls—”

“SHUT UP!”

The pistol cracks across your cheek and the cement floor hurtles towards you. The gasp that falls from your lips is from shock; your fingers dig into the cold ground as you try to blink away the blurriness. Your ears ring. Blood drips from your cheek between your fingers.

Again, there’s a hand in your hair.

Now, the fight begins.

Climber and Kiwi are stuck, frozen in fear.

You don’t blame them, because Igor and the others have guns already drawn. One of them, one that’s young and you don’t recognize immediately, has a baseball bat in his hands.

Alexei drags you by your hair as you grimace, refusing to scream. Your heels scrape against the ground as you try to get purchase, but he’s quick to throw you back against the far wall.

“Don’t worry, Bunny,” he smiles, “I won’t kill you. Not right now.”

Then, a kick.

Right to the ribs.

You can’t breathe — you gasp earnestly at the white, hot shot of pain.

“Get up.”

You’re not listening, you’re too busy trying to catch your breath.

“I said,” comes a growl as he reaches, hand in your hair again as he drags you up the wall. Your legs buckle, and you try to hold your chin high as you stumble upwards, “Get up.”

Then, there’s a hand around your throat.

Tight. Too tight. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t get his hand off your neck, can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t fucking think, can’t stand, can’t see, can’t breathe —

“Boss!”

A new voice.

The pressure is relieved for a second.

A new face has run into the room — he looks frazzled, hair askew and gun out. He’s eyeing the scene before him in a moment’s pause.

“Can’t you see I’m a little bit busy?” Alexei snags as you gasp, clawing at his hand. He swings his head to the figure in the doorway with an annoyed bark, “What is it?”

“The cops, boss,” he stammers, “They’re here.”

“What?”

“They’re here for her, boss.”

A slow turn to where his finger is pointing. His gaze lands on you. Alexei laughs.

“Well,” he says as the goon disappears, “Isn’t that just peachy, bunny?”

The choking starts again.

Then, a metal hand.

Vibranium.

You watch it swing, you watch it grab Alexei’s throat.

Suddenly, you can breathe.

Suddenly, Bucky Barnes enters the fight.

You make friends with the ground again as you duck, just as Alexei is rammed into the wall above your head by his throat. As you cough while Kiwi calls your name — you can hear a fight. But everything’s moving slow, and it’s not until the first gunshot that you’re kicked into action. It’s loud. Your skin pricks alive.

Someone screams.

You stumble to your feet, eyes finding Bucky’s form moving quickly between the three goons — the gunshot had come from the pistol that had somehow found its way into Bucky's flesh and blood hand. One of the men is on the floor, suit pants stained with a bullet wound through the thigh. He’s wailing. Bucky doesn’t notice. Or he doesn’t care. Maybe both.

His face is cold.

Another gunshot is fired off, this time richoting between you and Kiwi and Climber and embedding itself into the cement wall overhead. The three of you scream, ducking reflexively.

That’s when Bucky snaps.

“Now would be a good time to go!”

Kiwi’s hands are on your arm as you quickly break through the doorway through the storage room. Climber is following, checking over his shoulder at the carnage that Bucky begins to reap in the room.

He’s hysterical, trying to jog in his white platform boots. “What the fuck, Rabbit!”

Your voice is hoarse. You’re clutching your ribs. “Not now, Climber!”

“I’m parked in the back,” Kiwi says, ducking through plastic flaps as she helps you through the back of the club, “Come on, we’ll go through the trucking entrance.”

You hear Bucky call your name — he’s jogging to catch up, gun drawn in his hand. Seems like he made good work of the others, sporting nothing more than a split lip. You turn, pausing for a moment to take inventory of his well-being.

And that’s all it takes.

Alexei Gardzov, limping, steps in front of you and Kiwi and Climber at an intersection in the hallway.

There’s a gun in his hand.

The first thing you feel is the impact.

Like a truck slamming into you at full speed. For the fourth time tonight, you have the air robbed from your lungs. It’s instant confusion.

Then comes the pain. Hot. Hotter than the sun. Hot like white flames. It tears through your shoulder and all you can do is gasp; you’re sent into a stutter step — and while the world around you continues to move, you’re busy reconciling with the fact you’ve just been shot.

A bullet flies by your head.

Alexei Gardzov drops.

You’re grasping at your chest, staggering, when Bucky breaks into a sprint — but you’re okay. You’re okay, it’s just your shoulder, it’s just your arm, you’re okay, you can feel your fingers and you can breathe and the pain is nearly unbearable but you’re okay.

Then, a baseball bat.

It clocks Bucky directly in the skull. He’s clotheslined.

It’s Igor.

The gun from Bucky’s hands clatters across the ground to your feet, and you’re too busy trying to get to Bucky to realize — but, you’ve got tunnel vision and adrenaline and at that moment, you think a good sidekick doesn’t need anything else in this life.

Igor goes to swing at you, but you duck. Your stiletto crushes through the top of his shoe. He screams and in a flurry of pain and panic, you manage to snag the bat quick enough to turn and clock him under the chin with a roll of the wrist.

His teeth clack together and he falls backward, unconscious.

“God, I really wish you could have seen that, Buck.”

You spit. Blood paints the ground.

The bat clatters to the cement as you fight through the pain. Kiwi and Climber are by your side in an instant.

“No, no!” she screams, “We do not have time for this—”

“I am not leaving him,” you snap, nearly screaming at the woman, “Come on and help me with him. Now.”

After a sigh of resignation, Kiwi shoves the gun she’d snagged from the ground into the back of her jeans. You’ve got your hands around Bucky’s ankles as Kiwi and Climber take his torso — and the four of you make a break for the back entrance. You can hear the cops outside now, and there’s the chatter of Russian following you into the back parking lot.

“Hurry up!”

“He’s not exactly light as a feather, you know!”

“Shut up, Climber!”

You’ve got Bucky halfway into the back seat of Kiwi’s white Cadillac when another bullet whizzes by your head.

“Fuck.”

Kiwi hops into the driver’s seat as Climber scatters to hop the hood and throws himself into the passenger's seat. You lean, clinging to the door of the backseat as Kiwi peels out of the parking lot. It swings wide open and you curse loudly. You can see Alexei’s men watching from the back entrance, shouting in Russian — so you muster all your strength to pull back and throw the door closed as Kiwi’s car bounces over a speed bump and rams through the parking meter’s gate.

In the rear window, the front of the club is surrounded.

Red and blue lights illuminate the street — but Kiwi is quick.

No one follows.

And when she finally makes it to the Manhattan Bridge, you exhale.

Bucky’s head is in your lap. He still hasn’t come to — there’s blood coming from his nose and you’re worrying. You lace your fingers into his thick, brown hair and chew your lip.

Kiwi’s voice pulls you from him.

“When were you going to mention the vibranium arm, huh?”

You laugh. It’s more of a breath of air than anything. Your head rests back against the seat. Your shoulder is still on fire. You’re hot, but cold. You’re bleeding still. Your ribs aren’t right. You know that.

“I can’t believe he shot you,” Climber mumbles, “He fucking shot you.”

“And your boy toy shot him,” Kiwi says, sparing you a look in the rearview, “So you better pray he’s dead.”

You ignore the commentary.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” she says, accelerating into Manhattan, “Where I can get you those files and you can keep your head down.”

Sounds like a plan.

Better than the one you had, anyways.

[allthatyoulove]

A Heavy Feeling

Bucky Barnes / Female Reader

Summary: A fight with Bucky leaves you feeling alone.

Includes: angst angst angst, tiny fluff towards end, mentions of not eating

Words: 2k

A/N: A little angsty drabble I’ve had sitting in my drafts. I put female reader but it’s pretty general :) Please check out my prompt list! You can request as many prompts as you’d like! Hope you enjoy the story! Feel free to leave any feedback and please let me know of any warnings or errors I missed, thanks for stopping by :)

~~~

These last few days have probably been some of the worst in my life.

My life thus far has been far from easy, but it’s hard to remember a time where I felt as low as I do now.

I sit at the dining table, using my fork to mess with the food on my plate. Silverware clinks against plates, conversations are lively. Warm lighting fills the room, the huge window allowing a glimpse at the night sky. Everyone is eating and talking, laughing and smiling.

Everyone except Bucky and I.

They know why, which is probably why they were quick to put space between us as we all sat down for dinner. I was the last to come to the table, everyone stopping mid-conversation to look at me with pity. I sat down, and haven’t spoken a word to anyone since. They had eventually ignored the heavy tension tethered between Bucky and I, deciding that constant talking would prevent the chance of an awkward silence crashing over the entire table.

I had told them I could eat in my room, that I didn’t want to make dinner weird for everyone else. They insisted I come. I couldn’t ask Bucky to not come to dinner either, especially when I knew how much he liked sitting down with everyone, taking an hour or two to enjoy the company of who had become his family. No matter how mad I was at him, I could never ask him to give that up.

So that led me here, sitting at the edge of the table, messing with my food. Bucky was sitting across from me, to the very left edge of the table. The farthest seat from mine. Being so far from him was probably worse than sitting right next to him. I only glanced at him a few times, which I was proud of myself for. He was in his black leather jacket, with a black shirt and pants. Everyone had gone out just before dinner, but I didn’t feel up to it.

Seeing Bucky come through the door with a smile on his face made my heart tighten with pain, before I became disgusted with myself on how selfish the reaction was.

He sat at the table now, not talking with anyone. His arms were folded, and he hadn’t touched his food either. Everytime I looked at him he was focused on the same part of the table, zoned out. His brows were dropped, his lips in a soft frown. His eyes were filled with sadness, almost a puppy look. I could feel his eyes shift from the table to me every so often, trying my hardest not to meet his eyes.

We had only been sitting down for around 5 minutes, and I felt like I was suffocating. That’s all I’ve felt these past couple of days.

I’d asked him for space, said I needed to think things through. He respected that and listened, hesitantly. He didn’t go out with everyone as much, staying in his room save for the times Steve dragged him out. I was better at turning down the attempts of them trying to get me to go out. I had barely left my room.

I knew he was hurting, I could see it in his eyes and in the way he carried himself. I wondered if he was hurting as much as I was. I couldn’t sleep at night, couldn’t leave my bed. Couldn’t think without him next to me. Couldn’t think with him next to me.

I set my fork down, sighing to myself as the group was heavily engaged in conversation. I became alert of every action I made, feeling Bucky’s eyes on me once more. I gulped in anticipation, not thinking before drifting my eyes to his.

Our eyes met, my own filling with tears. His eyebrows pulled together, his own eyes filling with emotion. His mouth opened to say something, before I abruptly stood up, picking up my plate and taking it with me to my room. I could hear the conversations pause, confused sentences being muttered before another door shut, a few doors down from mine. Bucky’s. He must’ve left right after I did.

They eventually continued talking, but I stopped listening. I tossed my plate on a table, almost breaking it. I paced across my room, back and forth. I let the tears fall freely down my cheek, bringing a hand up to my mouth to be quiet. I sat down on the floor, holding my face in my hands. Not a single thought went through my head, but I couldn’t stop crying.

A few minutes passed before I had no more tears to shed, quiet and dry sobs leaving my mouth occasionally. I calmed down, using the breathing exercises Bucky had taught me. I almost started crying again at the thought, but I had nothing left in me.

I sat on the floor, sniffling and breathing deep breaths. Staring at the ground, no particular thought staying for more than a second.

My head shot up as a soft knock came to my door. A single knock, nothing more. Almost a tap.

I didn’t need to ask who it was, I knew. I held my breath, staring at the door. He said nothing. I crawled over to the door, holding my ear to the thin wood. I could hear the thumping of his heart, feeling it against the door. He must’ve been sitting against it- on the floor as well. His shaky breaths went through the wood.

I sighed, sitting with my back right where he was on the other side. I set my head on it, producing a tiny thump sound. The same sound came from the other side a second later.

My hand went up to my mouth again, sobs threatening to break from my throat. It was so painful, knowing he was sitting with me on the other side of the door. Not being able to touch him. The sound of his heartbeat comforted the pain slightly. I breathed in and out, in and out. Trying to calm down. I lost track of how long I was sitting there, scared he would leave first. I decided I couldn’t handle it if he did.

I didn’t try to listen to what he did on the other side of the door as I suddenly stood up, striding over to my bed and throwing myself under the covers. I didn’t come back out.

My eyes shot open, sitting up. The moonlight shone through the window the size of my wall, illuminating the covers. I had fallen asleep.

My head had found its way out of the covers, as they now sat loosely below my ribs. I rubbed my eyes with one hand, running it through my hair. I sighed as I looked around the room, yawning. I spotted my plate still sitting on the table. I got up, grabbing it and walking over to my door. I slowly opened it, cringing as it creaked. I peeked out, looking both ways down the hall. It was almost pitch black, save for the window that was providing light sitting at the end of the hallway. The coast was clear.

I closed my door slightly, walking to the kitchen. The dining table was clear and cleaned, leaving no trace of dinner earlier.

I put the food into a container, writing my name on it before shoving it into the fridge for later.

I turned around, walking back to my room. I slowly opened the door, hearing something. I paused, waiting. I didn’t hear anything. Was it my creaking door? I went to start to open it again when I heard it.

Whimpering.

My entire body froze for a split second before I strode straight to his room. I knew that sound, and I knew what it meant.

I cracked his door open, peeking in.

Bucky was laying in the middle of his bed, the sheets below his waist. He was shirtless, his vibranium arm wrapped over a pillow. The image pulled on my heart strings, tying it into a knot as he twitched, his other arm moving at his side.

I walked over to the side of the bed, putting my hands on it to hold myself up as I leaned over him.

“Bucky.” I whispered. His face turned just barely, still asleep. Still in his nightmare.

It had been so long since he had one, I forgot what to do. I reached a hand up, setting it on his metal bicep and shaking it lightly.

“Buck-”

I was halfway through his name when he turned around, pulling me into the bed with him and flipping me on my back. I gasped as he put his forearm against my neck, applying pressure. His eyes had snapped open, frantic and scared. Violent.

My arms pulled at his arm, shooting him pleading eyes as I struggled to breath. A few seconds passed before he let out a sharp breath, slumping as he seemingly came back to his body. His eyes shot open even wider, instantly taking his arm off of my neck. I gasped for air, breathing hard and fast. His eyes shot between mine, confusion and sadness and regret painted over them.

I stared at him as I caught my breath, waiting as his mouth stayed open- trying to find words.

He closed his mouth, backing away and sitting on the edge of the bed. I stayed in my spot for a second, cautious. I was unsure of what to do until I heard a sob escape him. I instantly sat up, my hand going to his shoulder. I tried to pull him to face me, but he remained facing the wall. His head was in his hands, his shoulders starting to shake as he cried. I walked on my knees, my chest against his back as I wrapped my arms around his waist.

I laid my head against his back, listening to the sound of his heart and breathing deeply- hoping he would soon follow. He continued shaking as I soothingly ran my fingers across his stomach, patient. Waiting.

“I thought they had stopped.” He let out, his voice cracking.

“I know. I know, baby.” I said, holding him tighter.

A few minutes passed as he gradually stopped shaking, occasionally twitching as he copied my breathing. He picked his head from his hands, as I raised my own from his back. I moved my body so I could look at him from the side. His eyes were puffy, his nose and cheeks red and tear stained. I brought one of my hands to his face, bringing it to meet mine and rub his cheek with my thumb. He stared at me, at my lips. I wiped the tears from his face, looking at him with love. He returned it, looking at me as if it was the first time.

“I’m so sorry.” He said, his voice rough and filled with regret. I shook my head, rejecting his apology with the motion. He opened his mouth to speak again when I brought his face to mine, our lips meeting.

My eyebrows scrunched together as I pushed my lips into his. He didn’t hesitate in kissing me back, his hands coming up to hold my face, to bring me closer. His lips perfectly molded into mine, the salty taste of his tears mixing between our tongues. Our noses bumped into each other repeatedly as we messily tried to both apologize and profess our undying love into the kiss.

I slowly pulled away after a few minutes, resting my forehead against his as I caught my breath. We looked at each other’s lips, chests heaving as my thumb rubbed his cheek. His hand drawing circles on my back. I broke out into a smile, him following me. I fell on my side back onto the bed, bringing him with me.

We laid across from each other, an inch apart. I brought my fingers down to his lips, pulling his lip and hearing it fall back with a pop. I looked at all of his features, knowing them by memory but still wanting them forever seared into my brain. I missed him.

Being in his room with the moon casting light over us, wrapped in his arms, I felt so happy. After days of nothing but a hole where my heart was, I felt complete. I was home.

We had a lot to talk about, but it could wait. I wanted to enjoy this moment.

[the-bau-quinjet]

Plum Cobbler

Steve x Barnes!reader, Bucky x platonic!reader

Summary: What happens when Steve confronts the woman who's been sitting outside the compound every Saturday for a month?

Warnings: mentions parental death, some cursing

Word Count: 6315

a/n: This really took on a mind of its own. I was going to make it a series, but I feel like this is the whole story.

Masterlist

Nervous didn't even begin to describe how you were feeling. Sitting in your car, just outside of the entrance gate to the Avenger's compound was never somewhere you thought you'd be. Not until two months ago, when you found your grandmas old scrapbooks.

Of course, you don't know how to get inside. Honestly, you should have seen this coming. Why would just anyone be able to walk up to their door?

"Who are you?" The sudden question startled you, causing you to jump and hit your head on the roof of your car. You turned to look at the source of the voice, shrinking under her watchful gaze.

The one and only Natasha Romanoff was standing outside your car, glaring at you as if she was ready to drop everything to take you out.

"Oh, um. My name is Y/N L/N. I just wanted to talk to Bucky..." Her glare only grew stronger as you revealed why you were there.

"Barnes doesn't talk to strangers." Before you could explain why, she was gone. You watched her walk into the compound until she wasn't in your view anymore.

"Well, that went horribly." You mumbled to yourself. Now what? Should you just sit there until someone else comes out? Will anyone come out?

-

"So who is she?" Clint asked as soon as Nat got back inside.

"Why is she here?" Sam added on.

"Said her name is Y/N L/N, and she wants to talk to Bucky." Nat rolled her eyes.

"Friday, run a background check on F/N L/N." Tony asked of the AI. "What? You can never be too careful, and people shouldn't know how to get here." He explained given the questioning looks from the rest of the group.

"Y/N L/N, 27, daughter of the deceased Kathleen and Grant L/N. She owns a bookstore in Brooklyn, passed down through her family. No criminal record." Friday responded quickly.

"Sounds normal enough, probably a fan?" Tony suggested, looking around the room.

"A persistent one. She's been here for hours." Steve looked out the window, still seeing your car just outside the gate. "How did she find the entrance?"

Everyone shared similar looks, unsure how a seemingly normal civilian found the gate.

"Excellent question, Capsicle. Friday, got any ideas?" Tony, as usual, turned to the AI for answers.

"Based on GPS data from her car, she drove around upstate New York for eight hours every Saturday for the last 6 weeks until she came across the side road leading to the compound."

"Either she's really good at looking normal, or she's just normal." Nat added on, still slightly suspicious.

"Well, she just left. I guess we're not getting any answers today." Steve said from his position still looking out the window.

-

You came back every Saturday for a month. You didn't know if anything would come of it, but you'd be damned if you didn't try. After your parent's deaths, you thought you had no family left. Finding out you were related to Bucky gave you a lifeline. Something to cling to when you felt alone.

So far, nobody else had come to talk to you. You didn't even know if Bucky knew you were there for him.

The fifth Saturday, you pulled your car up to the gate at 9 am, sticking to your makeshift schedule of waiting outside for the entire day. They had to at least be curious as to why you kept coming back.

Unfortunately for you, the weather upstate today was not the same as the weather in Brooklyn.

Around 10:30, it started to rain. Just a sprinkling, nothing you couldn't handle.

You listened to music, read, ate the lunch you packed, played games on your phone, anything to pass the time. You weren't going to force your way inside, but you were definitely going to show that you were interested.

Typically, you would leave at 5:30. It gave you enough time to drive home and heat up dinner, plus you had to check in on your cat.

Today, however, was a different story. Around 5:15, it started pouring. Sheets of water were coming down around you, completely cutting off any visibility through the windshield.

You figured you'd just wait out the rain, but when it didn't let up by 6, you were getting nervous.

-

"She's still here." Steve walked into the kitchen, announcing his news to the room.

"I'm not surprised. It's not exactly peak driving conditions out there." Sam easily responded, glancing out the window.

"Aren't you the least bit curious as to why?" Steve asked again, pushing the same conversation as always.

Nearly everyone in the room rolled their eyes, sick of repeating the same things.

"Look, we figured if we ignored her, she'd eventually stop. Clearly, that might not be working. If you're so curious, feel free to go ask her." Tony gave in, eager to move on from the discussion of you.

Steve contemplated his choices for all of 2 seconds before grabbing an umbrella and walking down the driveway.

-

You had your head leaned back against the headrest, eyes closed, listening to the rain. Of course you would get stuck here. Why didn't you ever check the weather?

You shrieked when a knock sounded on your passenger side window, not having expected anyone, especially in the rain.

Mr. America himself pointed to the door, gesturing for you to unlock it. You sat up quickly, rushing to hit the unlock button.

He quickly opened the door, shutting his umbrella and lowering himself into the small car.

You were utterly speechless. After your brief encounter with Natasha, you didn't really expect anyone to come talk to you.

Sure, you came back every week, but it was more so to fill the lonely hours you would have normally spent with your parents at the bookstore.

You had other employees to run the shop on Saturdays, allowing you to come here instead.

"Why are you here?" He sounded more curious than anything. Clearly he didn't perceive you as a threat, which was good because you had zero fighting experience.

"To talk to Bucky." Your voice was quiet, unsure how much you should share.

"I know that. Why?" He had fully turned in his seat to look at you, his large frame filling nearly the entire car.

"Well, I found something a few months ago that I thought he should know." You stuttered through your response, mildly intimidated by the man in front of you.

"And that something is?" He questioned further, genuinely curious as to what you want to tell his best friend.

You hesitated, eyes flitting around the car, looking at anything but him. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair before speaking again.

"Look, if you ever want to actually talk to him, you should tell me. Buck's been through hell, he won't just talk to anyone. Especially if he has no reason to."

During your conversation, the rain finally let up. You decided to take that as a sign.

"Can I show you something?" You finally looked him in the eye, nearly forgetting why you were even here at the sight of his bright blue eyes.

"Is it the reason you've been out here every Saturday for over a month?" He joked with you, helping to calm your nerves.

You nodded in response, unsure if you could even speak while still looking into his eyes.

"Then please."

You tore your eyes from his face, throwing the car into reverse and backing out of the spot you've claimed as your own. You turned around, heading back to your apartment in Brooklyn.

"Wha- where are we going?" He's clearly surprised by your actions, but he doesn't seem worried.

"I'm going to show you what I found, and hopefully you'll let me talk to Bucky." You paused for a minute, thinking. "Although, really I guess it should be his choice. Maybe you can just give him a message for me, and if he doesn't want to talk I'll leave you all alone."

The idea of never getting to know Bucky, you're only remaining family, hurts, but it's got to be his decision.

Steve just nods in response, still slightly wary of your reasons for wanting to talk to Bucky.

When you're a few minutes away from your apartment, you decide to give him some context.

"You probably already know a lot about me, but let me explain a few things." He silently nods, encouraging you to continue.

"My parents died three and a half months ago." You immediately felt like crying, but did your best to hold it in. Of course, Steve didn't miss the break in your voice. "It was a car accident. The weather was bad. They lost control of the car. They were both pronounced dead on the scene." You parked the car, turning slightly to look at him.

"They were the only family I've ever had, and the were both just gone." You turned and opened the car door, taking a moment to wipe the tears from your eyes. You gestured for him to follow you, locking the car and heading inside your apartment building.

"We were really close. I spent every Saturday at the bookstore with them." You wiped the tears again as the elevator doors closed.

You didn't chance looking at Steve, knowing you would break down at the look of pity.

"I had to go through the stuff at their house. You know, decide what to bring here, what to put in storage, what to get rid of. I found some old scrapbooks, I think from my great grandma."

You lead him into your apartment, locking the door and immediately heading to the kitchen to feed your cat. After you set down the food, you moved to the couch. You had the scrapbooks on the coffee table, having taken every opportunity to look through them.

"I never knew her. My parents didn't talk about her either, I'm not sure if they knew who she was. Her name was Rebecca." You waited a beat, to see if he would understand. When he remained quiet, you handed him one of the books, open to a page with a picture of Steve, Bucky, and Rebecca. "Rebecca Barnes."

You waited again, letting the information sink in for him. After a few minutes he smiled.

"I remember this day." He looked at you, a wide smile on his face. "It was a few days before Bucky was enrolled. We had a picnic." He continued to reminisce, looking through the other pictures in the scrapbook.

"Maybe it's selfish, maybe he won't want to know me, but when I found out I had more family, I wanted to find him." Again, tears pooled in your eyes. "I, I just don't want to be alone."

Steve's smile faltered as he realized what you've been going through, and how you've been doing it alone.

"Hey, I'm sure he'll want to talk to you." He reached out to place a hand on your arm, trying to comfort you.

"Really?" Your eyes were still watery, but a small smile grew on your face.

"I think so. Bucky was really close with his sister when we were young." This time, Steve's eyes grew watery, memories of his youth playing through his mind.

You couldn't take the sight of him being sad, so you pulled him into a hug. He came willingly, letting you bury your face in his chest. He lowered his head so it was overtop of yours, relishing in the comfort of your hug.

You pulled away a few minutes later, not wanting to overstep, but the feeling of his arms around your waist didn't let you go far.

"Thank you for coming out to my car." You laughed, trying to lighten the mood. His face was so close to yours, you could make out the individual shades of blue in his eyes.

"Thank you for sharing your story with me." He whispered back, not wanting to break the moment.

You're not sure how long you would've stayed like that, but a loud crack of thunder jolted you apart.

"What the-" You mumbled, walking over to the window to look outside. Steve followed close behind you, also curious about the weather.

It was now pouring, lightning and thunder cracking overhead.

"I guess the storm followed us to Brooklyn." He joked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I guess so." You looked at the clock, taking in the late hour.

Steve must've followed your line of sight, because he spoke up. "It's getting late, I should probably go."

You immediately shook your head, your fear of travelling in bad weather shining through. "I can't let you leave when it's like this. It's not safe. You, um, you can stay here tonight. You can sleep in my room. I'll sleep on the couch." You grew more confident as you kept talking.

"I couldn't impose like that." Steve shook his head, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"Steve, it's not safe to travel when it's raining like that. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you." Your voice grew tighter, trying not to flashback to the day your parents died.

Steve seemed to realize why you were so worried about the weather, ultimately deciding to agree to stay so you wouldn't worry about him.

"Okay, okay. I'll stay here, but you sleep in your bed. I'll be fine on the couch." He refused your offer, not wanting to force you to spend a night on the couch.

"First of all, thank you. Second of all, you are sleeping in the bed. You're like two feet taller than me." You exaggerated your height difference, but you were trying to make a point. "You won't even be able to lay down on the couch. I take naps here all the time, it's super comfortable." You argued back, unwilling to allow Captain America himself sleep on your tiny ass couch.

"You know, I should've expected you to be this stubborn. You spent five weeks waiting outside the compound with no contact. Plus you're related to Bucky" He laughed to himself, slightly shaking his head. "Fine, I'll sleep in the bed."

You smiled victoriously, jumping up from the couch. "Yay! Do you need anything? I have spare toothbrushes under the sink, and I can probably find you some clothes to sleep in. There's some snacks in the kitchen if you get hungry. Oh! And Carrot might try to lay in the bed with you, but I'll try to keep her out here." You rambled, trying to make sure he was comfortable.

"Carrot?" He smiled at your rambling, finding it adorable.

"Yes! Carrot is my cat. She's a cuddler, so consider yourself warned." You paused, eyes growing wide. "You're not allergic to cats are you? I think there's probably cat fur all over my room."

He laughed again. "No, I don't think the super soldier serum left any room for allergies." He quipped.

You smacked a hand to your forehead. "Duh! Anyway, do you need anything?" You asked again, trying to calm your beating heart.

"Some clothes would be great, thank you." The way he smiled at you did nothing to soothe your nerves.

"Okay." You breathed out, finally taking a deep breath. "I'll go grab some, the bathroom is right here if you need it." You pointed it out on your way to your room. "I'm just gonna get changed real quick, and then I'll be back with your clothes."

He nodded again, watching as you turned and walked into what must be your room.

You quickly changed into a t-shirt and sleep shorts. It took a few minutes of searching through boxes, but eventually you found an old pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt for Steve to sleep in.

You made your way out of the bedroom, handing him the clothes.

"Here ya go. Like I said, there are extra toothbrushes under the sink in the bathroom, and don't hesitate to grab anything you need from the kitchen."

He eyed the clothes in his hands, wondering where they came from, but not wanting to ask.

Luckily for him, you could tell what he was wondering. "They were my dad's." A sad smile graced your face. "I- I sleep in them sometimes when I really wish I could talk to him."

"Thank you." Steve turned to go to bed, but changed his mind last minute. He set the clothes down on the couch, pulling you into another hug. "You know, I can tell your related to Buck. He always looks out for people too."

You blushed at the compliment, grateful he couldn't see your face. "Thank you, that really means a lot." You stayed like that until Steve pulled back to talk to you again.

"I can take you back to the compound tomorrow, if you want. Maybe introduce you to Bucky."

"Really?! You don't want to talk to him first? Or double check anything I told you?" You were shocked at how willing he was to introduce you to Bucky.

"I trust you. Plus, I think you should be the one to tell him." Steve didn't say it out loud, but he also thought you and Bucky would be good for each other.

Bucky had Steve to connect his past and present, but another person for him to rely on wouldn't hurt. And you clearly were looking for a family connection.

"I would love to. Thank you!" You hugged him again, although quicker this time. You jumped back, excited to collect everything you wanted to show him. "I have to find all the scrapbooks to show him!"

When you turned to start collecting things, Steve put a hand on your shoulder, essentially preventing you from moving.

"Why don't we get everything together in the morning? It's getting late and you should get some sleep." He understood how emotionally and physically draining it could be to relive a loss like yours.

"You're right. I should sleep." You tried to slow your mind down, but the prospect of meeting Bucky tomorrow filled you with a mix of excitement and nerves. You gathered your extra blankets and pillows, setting up a bed for yourself on the couch while he went into the bathroom.

You were snuggled in bed, ready to sleep when he came back out.

"Goodnight, Steve."

His heart contracted at how adorable you looked buried in blankets on the couch, but he did his best to ignore it. He'd only just met you after all.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

-

The next morning Steve woke up at 5, per usual. He didn't want to wake you up though, so, despite his natural tendencies to run 10 miles every Sunday morning, he stayed in bed.

That is, until he heard you shuffling around the apartment.

He poked his head out of the room first, trying to verify that you were indeed awake. When he saw you in the kitchen, he fully emerged intent on helping you with whatever you were doing.

"Good morning, you're an early riser?" His question was completely ignored. Granted you couldn't see him yet, but he didn't know why you would be ignoring him.

He made his way closer to you, tapping you on the shoulder to try and get you to interact with him.

You, in a mixture of surprise and fear, turned and threw an egg at him.

He looked at you in shock, while you stared in horror at what you had just done.

You took headphones out of your ears, explaining why you hadn't heard his question.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" You reached toward him with a dish towel, trying to wipe the egg off his (your dad's) shirt. "You just surprised me! I can get you another shirt!"

"It's fine, don't worry-" You ran out of the room anyway, grabbing another shirt of your dad's from the box in your room.

He couldn't help but laugh, oddly relieved that you weren't ignoring him.

When you reentered the kitchen, a shirtless Steve Rogers was washing your dad's shirt in the sink. You froze, taking in the sight of the man before you.

When he turned back around, your eyes took on a mind of their own, soaking in his toned chest and arms. You cleared your throat, shaking yourself out of your stupor to hand him the other shirt.

"Thanks." He smirked, but still blushed slightly before he put it on, ringing out the other shirt before handing it to you. "I didn't want the egg to stick to it since it was your dads, so i rinsed it off..." he trailed off, unsure if it was the right thing to say.

"That's really sweet, thank you. Especially because it was my fault there was even egg on it in the first place." You laughed, trying not to blush with embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it, really. I shouldn't have snuck up on you." He laughed as well, clearing any lingering tension. He took a look around the kitchen, taking in just how much stuff you had out.

"What are you making?" He smiled when you blushed again.

"Oh, I was making plum cobbler... I just, I read online that Bucky likes plums, so I thought I would bring him a cobbler." You blushed again, embarrassed by the admission.

"He does." Steve smiled, completely enamoured with your personality. "Did you want some help?"

"Actually, the cobblers are in the oven already. I was going to make breakfast next, though, so you can help with that." You smiled, noting how easy it was to spend time with him.

"Cobblers? I know Bucky's a super soldier, but one would have been plenty." He joked with you, moving to help scramble some eggs.

"Well, yeah. One is for him, but then I thought the other Avengers might be there and I didn't want to not have enough so I made three."

"You're too cute." The words slipped out before he could even think about what he was saying.

You blushed again, a frequent occurrence it seems when you're with Steve.

You uttered a quick thanks, trying to change the subject. "Do you always get up this early?"

He chuckled again. "Yeah, typically I don't need much sleep. I usually run in the mornings, try to clear my head."

The two of you fell into easy conversation, moving around each other effortlessly to make eggs, sausage, toast, and smoothies for breakfast.

When you finished eating, you collected the scrapbooks Bucky might want to see. You added his mom's wedding ring, the one your mom wore as well, to the box.

"What's that?" Steve pointed to the box, unsure if his assumption was correct.

You pulled out two scrapbooks, pointing to the near identical pictures of Bucky's mom and your mom after having been proposed to.

"My mom always told me her engagement ring was a family heirloom. I think it was his mom's ring too. I thought he might like to have it. As something to remember her by, ya know?"

You got teary eyed again. Thinking about how much he must miss his family combined with how much you miss your own parents was too much to handle.

You finished gathering everything, putting it all in a box to make for easier transportation. You took the cobblers out of the oven, packing them as well.

With a deep breath, you followed Steve back out to your car, ready to talk to Bucky.

-

"Where the hell is Steve?" Bucky nearly stormed into the kitchen.

"Whoa, calm down tinman. What's up?" Sam replied casually, pouring cereal into a bowl.

"Where is Steve? I was supposed to run with him this morning, but he wasn't in his room when I went to find him. I don't even like running this early. I literally only do it because it's what he prefers."

Sam laughed, enjoying anything that annoys Bucky. "Dude, chill. He probably just forgot you were going with him."

Tony walked into the kitchen as well, trying to tune out the whines coming from Bucky, but failing.

"That's what I though, but he's always back by now." Bucky huffed, annoyed with Sam for laughing.

"Who?" Tony asked, now slightly intrigued.

"Steve. I haven't seen him since yesterday." Bucky replied as he angrily ate an apple.

"Really?" Tony sounded mildly concerned, immediately alerting Sam and confusing Bucky.

"You don't think?" Sam asked, ignoring Bucky for the time being.

"I don't know!" Tony looked bewildered. "Friday, where is Capsicle?"

"Captain Rogers left yesterday evening with Y/N L/N." The AI easily replied.

"Who?" Bucky questioned the room, never having learned your name.

"You know the woman who's been sitting outside every Saturday?" Bucky nodded to Sam, unsure why he was bringing it up. "Well, Steve went to ask her why she was here last night."

"Nat told me she was just some fan, wanted to see you all." Bucky furrowed his brow, thinking over the new information on Steve's wearabouts.

"Well, yeah that's what we thought. Look, she said she wanted to talk to you specifically." Sam explained, ignoring the pointed glare from Tony.

"What? Why didn't you tell me?" Bucky rose from his chair, annoyed at everyone now. "Now she's got Steve?"

"Relax, Steve can handle himself. She cleared her background check. We really don't have any reason to believe he's in danger." Tony's words were more to convince himself than anyone else. He's the one who said Cap should go check it out if he was so curious.

"Steve's too trusting. What if it was a trap?" Bucky questioned, glaring daggers at the other two men.

Before they could respond, Friday chimed in with more information.

"Captain Rogers just entered the elevator from the parking garage."

"See, he's fine." Tony glared back at Bucky, secretly relieved that Steve was fine.

Bucky just rolled his eyes before leaving, heading for the elevators to yell at Steve for ditching him this morning.

When the elevator doors opened, however, Steve was not alone.

"Hey, punk, why'd you ditch me- Oh. Who are you?" Bucky eyed you suspiciously, looking between you and Steve.

Before Bucky interrupted, Steve was trying to reassure you that everything would work out. He had a hand on your back, rubbing up and down to soothe your nerves.

His other arm was occupied by the box of scrapbooks, or else he probably would have hugged you again.

You were holding a large sheet pan, three pie dishes sitting on top.

Steve was blushing, a surefire sign Bucky had seen something he wasn't supposed to.

"Oh, um. Hi. My name is Y/N L/N." You froze, not thinking you would have to see him so soon. You could see the family resemblance between him, your great grandma, and your mom.

"The car girl." He nodded, trying to piece together the events of last night.

"Yep, that's me." You laughed nervously, unsure of what he already knew.

"Buck, do me a favor? Let us out of the elevator." Steve eyed him, mildly annoyed with the ambush.

Bucky moved to the side, allowing you and Steve to exit the elevator. You followed Steve down the hall to the kitchen, where you put the cobblers on the counter.

Sam and Tony were still there, eating various foods.

"Well, hello there." Tony greeted when he spotted you, intrigued by the development. He looked at Steve for an explanation.

"Y/N made plum cobbler." Steve said instead, moving his hand back to the small of your back.

Bucky's eyes lit up at the mention of plums, enough to momentarily distract him from Steve's actions.

"Oh, right!" You took a cobbler out of the dish, moving toward Bucky. "This one's for you, because I read that you liked plums." You handed him the dish, quickly moving back to the others. "I also made a peach and an apple for everyone else." You smiled at Tony and Sam, unknowingly leaning slightly into Steve.

"Why does he get a special cobbler?" Sam whined, eagerly reaching for the other dishes.

Suddenly, all eyes were on you. Well, except Sam's who were on the peach cobbler.

"Oh, um, well, I was hoping I could talk to you." You looked at Bucky nervously, unsure of how he would respond.

"Anyone who bakes me a plum cobbler can talk to me, Doll." Natasha chose that exact moment to enter the room.

"Who made plum cobbler?" She looked around the room, eyes narrowing in your direction. "How did you get in here?"

"I brought her." Steve smiled at you before walking over to Natasha. He whispered in her ear, just loud enough for her to hear, but nobody else. "She's not a threat to your relationship, trust me."

Nat nodded her head, trusting Steve, although not for the reasons he thought. She could clearly see the blonde's affinity for you.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Bucky asked between bites of cobbler.

"It's really a private conversation." Steve answered for you, seeing how unsure of yourself you were.

"Then why do you know, punk?" Bucky countered.

"Well, I had to tell someone so I could finally talk to you. Steve's the one who asked." You smiled at Steve again, trying to convey how grateful you were with just a look.

Steve smiled back at you, while everyone in else just shared a knowing look.

Eventually, Steve cleared his throat. "Buck, can you just come with us?"

Bucky nodded, moving to follow Steve while still eating the cobbler. You followed the two of them as well, growing more nervous with each step.

Steve lead you to his room, placing the box of scrapbooks on the bed.

"Do you want me to stay?" Steve looked to you for an answer.

You took a deep breath, in all honestly you would love for him to stay, but you think you should probably just talk to Bucky first.

"No, that's okay. Come back in like, 30 minutes?" You scrunched up your face, unsure if 30 minutes was long enough, but knowing you would need the deadline if you were ever going to explain it all to Bucky.

Steve nodded, squeezing your shoulder as he passed you to leave the room.

"Um," you turned to Bucky, trying to think of where to start. "I don't know what you already know about me, but-"

"Nothing really. Except that you make a delicious plum cobbler." He smiled, helping to ease your nerves. Food really was the way to this man's heart.

"Oh, I guess I'll start where I started when I told Steve." You smiled at the mention of his name, unaware of your own actions. But Bucky noticed.

"My parents died a few months ago." Bucky's eyes went wide, trying to think of what this could have to do with him. "Um, it was a car accident. They both died on the scene." You took a deep breath, trying to push through the sad parts.

"I had to clean out their house, and I found some scrapbooks that lead me to you." You shifted closer to the bed, looking through the scrapbooks you brought.

You pulled out the one with the first picture you showed Steve, opening it and gesturing for Bucky to take it.

He set the cobbler on Steve's nightstand, cautiously reaching for the book. He looked at the picture for a long time before saying anything. And when he did talk, it was a whispered "Becca..."

He ran his fingers over the picture slowly, just staring. A few minutes later, he eagerly flipped the page. He spent a good 10 minutes just looking through all the books you handed him.

"Where did you get these?" He questioned, although not accusingly.

"I found them in my parents house. They were with a bunch of my grandma's stuff that she had from her mom." You wanted to ease him into it.

"So your great grandma..." He trailed off, disbelief clear across his face.

"Was Rebecca Barnes." You finished the sentence for him, nerves clear in your voice.

You weren't sure what to say next, so you waited for him to make the next move.

"So you're my... great-grand niece?" You nodded at his question, still unsure if he was happy with the news. "God, that makes me feel old."

You nearly cackled, surprised by the joke. He smiled when you laughed, glad to have cleared some of the tension.

"Why did you want to find me?" He questioned, the mood turning more serious again.

"Well, I was really close to my parents. They were the only family I had. When I found out you are family too, I just... I knew I needed to at least tell you." You shrugged at the end, unsure if you really answered his question.

"You wanted to tell me so badly that you sat outside the compound every Saturday for five weeks even after being ignored?" He was in shock that anyone would spend that much time and effort just to talk to him. You started panicking immediately.

"I'm so sorry if you didn't want to know! It was selfish of me to force this on you. I can go, if you want. You don't have to talk to me." You started questioning everything. You moved to put the books back in the box when he stopped you.

"Oh, um. I'm sorry, you can keep those. If you want!" Tears were threatening to fall down your cheeks when you remembered the ring. You froze with your hand in the box, not knowing if you'd want to part with it knowing you'd never see Bucky again.

"Y/N..." Something in the way he said your name made you look at him. "I- I'm glad you told me. Really glad. I, uh, I never thought I would have family, well besides Steve. You know what I mean." He ran a hand through his hair, and you noticed the tears in his eyes.

"I don't want you to go. It's just hard for me..." he paused, trying to figure out his emotions. "It's hard to believe that someone would care about me that much."

"Bucky, I don't know you." He frowned at your statement. "But, I would love to get to know you." You smiled at him, trying to be reassuring.

"I'm not so sure you would." His face was hard, staring at the ground.

"Bucky, you aren't a bad person. I mean, sure you've done bad things, but it wasn't your choice. You were forced to do those things. You can't let yourself be defined by them. You're here aren't you?"

"Here?" He questioned.

"Working with the Avengers, I mean. You go on missions to help save people. That's your choice. That's who you are. I would be honored to get to know that person."

You smiled, waiting for him to say something.

"Are you sure?" He still looked unsure.

"God, maybe I get my stubbornness from you." You both laughed at that. "I am 100% sure."

"Wow." He shook his head, still in shock.

A knock sounded on the door before Steve came back in. "Is now a good time?" He asked, still standing in the doorway.

You nodded appreciatively. "Thank you." You pulled him into a hug, needing the emotional support.

"Of course. I'm happy I could help." He rubbed your back, reciprocating the hug. "Did you give him the ring yet?" He asked when you took a step back.

You shook your head, reaching into the box for the last item. "I, um, I thought you might want this." You handed him the box, nerves peaking through again.

He opened it, a soft smile on his face when he recognized it. "My mom's engagement ring."

You smiled, happy that he recognized it. "It was my mom's as well."

The two of you stared a the ring for awhile, reminiscing on time spent with your parents.

Eventually, Bucky picked the cobbler back up, not wanting to let it go to waste.

Steve couldn't help but roll his eyes at his friend. "Wow, jerk. You're just gonna go back to eating."

"Yes, punk. My great-grand niece made me a plum cobbler, and I tend to fully enjoy it."

"Great-grand niece. Ha, that makes you sound so old."

It was fun for you to see the two interacting like this, especially after the emotional hurdles you just ran.

"It's fine, Stevie. Let him enjoy the cobbler." Your face went red, not having meant to use the nickname.

"Yeah Stevie, let me enjoy the cobbler." Bucky couldn't help but poke fun, knowing there was an unspoken attraction between the two of you.

Somehow your face got even redder. Steve just rolled his eyes.

"Fine, eat your cobbler. Only because I had some of the apple one and it was delicious. It would be a shame to waste any."

You smiled at the compliment, embarrassment subsiding a bit. Steve sat down on the bed between you and Bucky, eager to ask his friend about some of the pictures. Steve put his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder as he spoke to Bucky.

You felt your eyes growing heavy, exhausted since your nerves kept you up most of the night. You rested your head on Steve's shoulder, soaking in his warmth as you cuddled closer.

Steve just rubbed your arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. Bucky narrowed his eyes at the interaction, realization dawning on his face.

"Oh my god. My best friend likes my great-grand niece. And she likes him." He said it so matter of fact, the two of you didn't bother denying it. You just smiled, and cuddled closer together.

[beyondspaceandstars]

Around Your Neck

Bonus: Part 2

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader feat. Voyeur!Zemo Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, penetrative sex, choking, metal arm kink, fingering, public sex, voyeurism, degradation, humiliation, dirty talk - 18+, minors DNI. Summary: Zemo was quite intrigued by you and Bucky fucking on his plane that he takes some bold steps when he sees you two running off to do similar activities on another one of his properties. A/N: alright! this idea actually stems from a conversation that took place in the original ‘Around You Neck’ piece. A reader (see full exchange below) threw around the idea of Zemo watching and someone second but it took me a while to actually get down how to go about this although i think i got it I THINK I DID GOOD. i enjoyed it so fingers crossed this lives up to any expectations

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

Things had gotten hot and heavy between you and Bucky once again upon settling into Zemo’s place.

Once the gig was up and everyone was fully aware of your particular interest in a particular arm, you didn’t even attempt to hide your lustful gazing.

And something about that sure got Bucky going.

He pushed you against the wall of the fancy bathroom. His lips were on yours from the second he made some lame-ass excuse to pull you away from Sam and Zemo. 

Sam had chosen to ignore it, not feeling like now was the time to lecture either of you. Zemo on the other hand had watched silently as Bucky’s hand gripped the back of your neck and your thighs twitched in response before you two disappeared into the bathroom. 

You had felt Zemo’s eyes on you two as Bucky fumbled with the door before shoving you in, deepening the kiss, but you had chosen to ignore it and instead got caught up in the sensations of your boyfriend. 

Nearly everything in the world had been forgotten the moment Bucky lifted you up and your legs wrapped around his torso. He walked you carefully backward, your back hit a wall.

“You’re driving me absolutely mad,” Bucky whispered in your ear, his voice as rough and passionate as his actions. His hardness grinded into your heated core as he spoke, earning a pathetic whine from you.

“I-I haven’t done anything.” You just about giggled at the end of your claim of innocence. Bucky responded by attacking your neck with kisses, nipping and sucking as he made his way across your hot skin. 

You let out a light moan and made your own grinding actions against him. He shook his head, trying to taunt and deny you, but then little begs fell from your lips. The sweet sounds of “please” always made him absolutely weak - not that he’d ever admit it. Instead, he slowly let one hand make its way to your pants button while his metal arm held you perfectly. 

When you realized the position, you swore you could feel yourself getting wetter. Just the realization he was holding you with one arm - the metal arm - so effortlessly while his other hand started work on giving you some relief made something turn in your stomach.

Bucky must’ve realized all this as he let out a deep chuckle once he undid your pants and shoved his hand into your panties. Two fingers first started little circular motions on your clit before moving them over your soaking folds. 

He inserted the, slowly, letting you feel every inch of his fingers. “So fucking wet,” he groaned in your ear as he planted a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Haven’t even done anything yet it’s a fucking puddle in your panties. Ridiculous.”

The degrading words did not help your situation as you let out a loud gasping moan. Bucky was enjoying this, letting you be as loud as you wanted despite the others clearly in the house. You could only hope that they had decided to leave upon catching wind of what you two were up to. 

But that turned out not to be the case. 

As Bucky began adding a third finger to the mix, the bathroom door opened. At first, you didn’t even notice it. Eyes closed, your brain was only focused on getting your boyfriend to hurry up and fuck you, you were totally lost in your own world. For your super-soldier ex-assassin boyfriend, though, it was harder for him to turn his senses off. 

Abruptly, all motions stopped. Bucky lifted his head from your neck as his fingers stilled inside you. You opened your eyes unwillingly and looked down at your boyfriend. His eyes were wide as yours were furrowed in confusion. 

A heavily accented voice cut through the silence from the doorway. “Don’t stop on my account.” 

You gasped - and this time it wasn’t one of pleasure. You started wiggling, trying to get a now furious Bucky away from you. He caught on and ripped his hand from your pants. Angry but still handling you with care, his arm placed you back on the ground. You turned away from the door, trying to fix your clothes as Bucky faced the intruder. 

“What the fuck are you doing? Get the hell out.” Bucky’s voice boomed throughout the room, bouncing off every tile. 

You flinched at the sound as you turned around, presently decent. Your eyes fell on Zemo who was currently leaning against the doorframe, a stupid smirk on his face and a fire in his eyes. 

He shrugged, completely unbothered, and slowly closed the door again behind him. “Can’t a man watch what’s happening in his own home?” You and Bucky shared a questioning glance. “You two just seem to like sneaking off. Forgive me if my curiosity has peaked but this is a fascinating situation.”

“What the hell are you going on about?” You sighed, frustrated in more ways than one. 

“I’m a man who likes to know what’s going on,” he crossed his arms, “especially when it’s happening in my space.”

“I really don’t-,”

“He wants to watch,” Bucky cut you off but his eyes were still trained on Zemo’s cocky, slightly too proud stance. Your stomach unexpectedly fluttered. 

Taking a deep breath, you asked, “W-Watch?” Your voice was suddenly weak as the frustrations - the good ones - hit you again. 

“Hmm, interesting,” said Zemo as if he was casually thinking out loud. As if this was the perfect time for some brainstorming session. Your blood was boiling at his casualness.

You rolled your eyes, biting the bait that he cast like a foolish, edged woman. “What’s interesting?”

“You didn’t say no.”

You and Bucky began spewing protests to his claim. 

“I-I was in shock-,” 

“It doesn’t mean anything-,”

“You’re insane-,”

Zemo lifted his hand to stop you both. Your two voices were getting muddled as your words fought to defend. You gave in, quickly halting all complaints. You could see from the corner of your eye Bucky watching you a bit cautiously now but you didn’t want to face him. You still, for some reason, felt hot and bothered by this… proposition.

“Am I really that insane?” He asked, taking a slow step towards you. “You think you’re hiding it but you can’t stop shifting your stance and those pretty thighs won’t stop squeezing together.” Zemo paused, chuckling a bit to himself. You glared, keeping your eyes locked with his despite how overwhelming it all was. “Are you going to tell me that I’m wrong, dear? Because I don’t think I am. In fact, I think you’d more than just enjoy it. I think you actually crave it.”

Your heart sank at Zemo’s publicized revelation. How the hell did he even pick up on that? Was he somehow in your fucking mind? Your eyes searched his expression, looking for signs that he was pulling your leg or playing some fucking games but his features were cold with a hint of curiosity. You weren’t sure what to say because, well, he really wasn’t wrong. But this didn’t stem from some blatant attraction to Zemo (even though that desire certainly was harboring deep, deep within you), you had always had some interest in sexual adventures on the more voyeuristic side. 

Bucky, however, didn’t know any of this. 

For all the intimate actions you two had already explored -- including the new-found metal arm kink -- you hadn’t brought this up, finding it to be some ultimate, untouchable achievement with your partner.

Bucky said your name, pulling you out of your dazed thoughts. You finally faced him, taking in his not-so-surprising expression of wonder. “Is that true?” There was something in his tone that made your heart leap. He was… excited, you thought. “Is this making you…”

Your mouth opened but no words came out.

Zemo opted to answer for you. “You know it is, James.”

Bucky licked his lips and took a couple of steps towards you, focused on getting an answer personally from you. He was very close now, pretty much towering of you. “Does the thought of someone watching us make you wet?”

His words hit the room like explosive bombs. You gasped at the boldness, trying to act all surprised at the question, but your body couldn’t hide anything, especially not when Bucky’s metal arm came up to trace invisible lines across your neck. He held your head up, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. The entire situation felt so powerful.

“N-No.”

Both Bucky and Zemo let out scoffs in disbelief. You sighed, defeated. 

“Oh, really?” Bucky inquired as he began walking towards you again, getting so close that you had no choice but to back up. You hit the wall once again, feeling almost in the position from earlier. 

Without any warning, Bucky undid your pants and once again shoved his hand back to your core, letting his fingers run over your folds. If your panties had a puddle earlier, it was now a full-blown ocean down there. You yelped in surprise.

Bucky hummed as he let his fingers play. “I think the thought makes you very wet.” He pressed into you just a bit more, enough for you to now feel his erection through his jeans. 

As Bucky inserted two fingers in you, he moved his head to meet yours. You grabbed onto his shoulders as the hand on your throat forced your head to tilt to the side, making room for him to whisper in your ears. 

He pumped his fingers slowly as he spoke, “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” You let out a pathetic whine. “Yeah, you sure are,” Bucky chuckled. “I can feel it. I can feel you soaking my hand and why is that? Because someone is watching you? Someone’s watching you take my fingers like a good girl while my hand is wrapped around your pretty throat, just how I know you like it. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Bucky sneered, his voice full of arousal and jealousy, at the little pet name Zemo had used on you. You just about collapsed when he spoke. If it hadn’t been for Bucky’s strong body pressing into yours, you would’ve melted into the floor. Not to mention, you could feel Zemo’s eyes taking you in, raking over you so shamelessly as you twisted and squirmed from Bucky’s skilled fingering. 

“She is quite the sight,” Zemo commented, making observations as if you weren’t even in the room. For some reason, that made everything hotter. 

“M-More-,” you choked out and began grinding your hips against Bucky’s body. His grip on your throat got a bit tighter at your movement, forcing you to let out a moan. 

“You want more?” Bucky taunted you as his thumb came up to circle your clit. You yelped, moving your hips even more. His body was still holding you down. “You want me to fuck you right here for him to see?” 

Your eyes had fluttered close by now but Bucky wasn’t dealing with that. The hand on your neck left and found its way into your hair. He gave your hair a tug, forcing you to keep looking at him. His eyes bore into yours, full of lust and pleasure. His features, though, were harsh and serious. You felt your orgasm coming in hard. You couldn’t even think straight to nod at his ridiculous question. 

Bucky seemed to know all this, though. Just as fast as he put his hand down your pants, he removed it, making you let out an angry, pitiful whine at the loss of contact. Bucky just shook his head and forced you to turn around. Now your front was completely pushed against the wall and Bucky was working fast to get your pants and panties off. 

You couldn’t really see anything behind you now and somehow, this got you going even more. You lost pretty much all control in this position. Your awareness was flying out the window. You had no idea what Bucky’s next moves would be and you certainly didn’t know how Zemo looked taking this all in.

Suddenly, though, a hand came up to your cheek, brushing back your hair. You knew immediately it wasn’t Bucky.

“You look so pretty, dear,” Zemo whispered. His hand caressed your cheek as his eyes stared into your blown-out ones. “Like an absolute goddess.”

Before you could even respond or at least show acknowledgment, Bucky entered you full force, his hips completely jutting against you. You let out a cry at the fullness, completely stunned by the boldness of your boyfriend. He groaned lowly in your ear as he worked his way well deep into you. 

“B-Bucky-” Your cries were loud as you adjusted to the size of him, now planted rightfully in you. While there was some discomfort, all you could register was the pleasure you had been denied for what felt like forever.

“Shh,” he hushed you, his mouth right against your ear. “You’re taking it so well, doll. My good little girl.”

You could’ve sobbed at his words of encouragement. He watched you for a second, still paused inside you, before feeling that you were okay. Then the pumping began, in and out of you, just as powerful as when Bucky first entered you. His rhythm was hypnotizing as he fucked you forcefully into the wall. 

Upping the ante a bit, his metal arm came around to your neck, squeezing gently but with determination. You felt yourself get wetter at the action.

“There you go,” Bucky mumbled, sounding lost in his own daze. “Just like that, sweetheart. Got me fucking you against a wall, my hand around your throat, while we have a little audience. But that’s what you wanted, right? You wanted to show off how you like to get fucked.”

Somehow, his words were so degrading yet so pleasing. They went straight to your core causing the sound of your wetness to begin filling the room. You heard Zemo chuckle at the shift. 

“Such a dirty girl you have, James.”

Bucky scoffed. “What a naughty girl I have. Didn’t even tell me she likes it when people watch.”

You whined at the statement but didn’t have much time to ponder it as Bucky pulled out of the way out only to shove right back in, forcing you to take his length in one motion. Your cries were becoming a regular thing now, completely engrossed in the situation.

“That’s it, sweetheart, so good,” Bucky grunted in your ear as his hand on your throat got tighter. “Gonna cum for me, yeah? Gonna come while he watches? Come on, doll, let him see how pretty you look falling apart.”

That was all it took. Your orgasm rushed through you the second his words stopped and he gave another strong pump. Slightly ashamed of yourself for how little it took for you to cum, but who could really blame you? Denied twice, you were always on that teetering and all that was needed was Bucky’s permission. 

You shook under Bucky as he stilled inside you, letting his own orgasm take him over. He finished inside you, groaning and moaning pleasantly in your ear as you squirmed. The sensation of it all, from the warmth of Bucky filling you to Zemo’s eyes still shamelessly watching, had you overwhelmed quickly. 

Bucky whispered sweet praises in your ear as you two calmed down. “So good for me, sweetheart. Absolutely fucking perfect. Can never get enough of this.” His words made you feel warm and definitely helped you catch your breath. 

When he saw you were going to be fine, Bucky pulled out and reached for a towel to clean you up. He was gentle and caring, a complete contrast to just minutes ago. 

Pants and underwear returned to your body and you pushed yourself slowly away from the wall, carefully finding your footing. 

Once you and Bucky had straightened up your appearance, Zemo spoke. 

“That certainly was a real treat,” he said with a cocky smile playing on his lips. You couldn’t really face him and instead focused on the floor. Bucky placed a gentle hand on your waist. “Nothing to be ashamed of, dear. I think we got what we all wanted, right?”

You mustered the courage to at least look up at Bucky who was just rolling his eyes. 

“Could you leave us for now?” Bucky sighed.

“Why?” Zemo asked. “Going for round two?”

You shook your head, fighting your own urge to roll your eyes. No matter how mad you actually wanted to be, though, you had certainly found a lot of pleasure in the events just seconds earlier.

Bucky went to snap back with some remarks but Zemo cut him off. “I’m just kidding,” he said and then began walking to the door. “Thank you for this opportunity. It will certainly be treasured.”

With that, he exited, leaving you and Bucky standing there, staring at one another. Surprisingly, nothing had felt it changed between you two. In fact, you felt better now that that little secret of yours was now out in the open. 

“So,” Bucky began with the tiniest smirk, “are there any other kinks of yours I need to know about?”

You groaned as Bucky chuckled, finding way too much amusement now. “Shut up.”

[mickey-henry]

𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐈 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝

pairing: bucky barnes (bookstore au) x reader

summary: eager to escape the heat, you find yourself in the presence of a mesmerizing bookstore and an irresistibly beautiful man.

word count: 2.3K

author’s note: hello! welcome to my third fic😊 I’m eager to share this with you all! I now have a taglist (the link is also in my bio) if you’re interested🥰 thank you to @certainaesthetic​ for helping me workshop this idea, @fuckandfluff​ for the grammar help, and @midnightf​ for hyping me up as I wrote it! likes, reblogs, messages, replies, and comments are cherished! the header images are from pinterest and the divider is from here. I hope you like it! 💖

You’re desperate to escape the smoldering heat. It’s too hot to rest in the car; it’s been baking all day beneath the sweltering summer sun, parked just outside your place of work. If you attempt to sit in it now, you’d only be greeted with a wave of torrid air, stung with the touch of your seatbelt, and burnt from the searing leather of your steering wheel.

You’re off from work earlier than usual—the blinding sun is usually long beneath the horizon before you head home for the day. The pathetically small sun visor does nothing to shade your eyes from the blazing sunlight. Rather than driving half-blind, you decide to wait out the setting sun.

As you ponder how to spend the rest of your afternoon, you realize that now is an opportune time to visit the new bookstore, The Book Haven, that opened last month. After changing out of your uniform and throwing your work stuff in the trunk, you walk across the plaza to the shop entrance.

The bookstore greets you with the chime of a bell and a rush of cool air as you step in, a blissful contrast to the scorching outdoors. The welcoming scent of coffee grounds and the tangy aroma of old books accompany the refreshing breeze. You take a deep breath, appreciating the convivial atmosphere. The bookstore is a sublime sight; words almost can’t describe its charm.

Shelves like skyscrapers—stuffed to the brim with books, magazines, and comics—graze the ceiling. An intimate reading nook lies next to the door; an inviting window seat dwells beside a floor-to-ceiling window. Clear mosaic window clings cover the glass, casting beautiful rainbows throughout the store. Stringed vintage light bulbs illuminate the shelves; candle-lit sconces adorn the top corners of each one. Oriental rugs lay between the shelves, covering a dark mocha floor. Tucked in the back of the store is a small coffee cranny, hidden at first glance. Frank Sinatra’s charming, rich vocals travel through the air, tickling your ears. The owner clearly put the utmost time, energy, and love into the creation of their shop. It is unequivocally perfect and already one of your favorite places.

You wander to the classics section, enthralled by the exquisite covers. Sensing someone nearby, your eyes glance at movement caught in the corner of your eye. Your stomach somersaults at the stunning stranger. The instant you lay your eyes on him, you forget to breathe for a moment—your breath engulfs your throat. You’re astounded by the Adonis of a man before you.

Bristles of scruff grace his defined jawline—his low man-bun neatly styles his dark chestnut hair. A grey short-sleeve button-up shirt hugs his toned arms; a white tank top clings to his lean, fit frame; cuffed slim-fit khaki pants, help up by a bronze braided belt, embrace his thick thighs; and weathered, chunky brown leather shoes don his feet.

Through the rose-colored glasses that surround your heart, your soul imagines a life with a perfect stranger. The hopeless romantic in you can’t help but steal glances, hoping to catch a better glimpse of him. The moment he turns to walk away, your heart sinks to your stomach. You hope this isn’t the last time you see this gorgeous man.

A few minutes later, you’re mulling over a collectible edition of The Catcher in the Rye, attempting to justify purchasing yet another copy of your favorite book. A melodic voice interrupts your pondering. “That’s a pretty edition of The Catcher in the Rye you’ve got there.”

You turn towards the charming voice. Lo-and-behold, it’s the love of your life: the handsome stranger you’ve mentally lived a lifetime with. His beauty is even more profound up close: now you can see that his eyes are a lovely shade of blue. His eyes, haunted by a subtle sadness, draw you in, unlike anything you’ve experienced before. You find yourself entranced in his sea-blue current; you could easily drown in his gaze. You attempt to hide your awestruck expression and converse with him like a normal human being. “I agree! I already own a copy though, do I really need a new one?”

“I think we both know the answer is always yes,” he assures.

“Okay, you’ve convinced me. I'll get it! Thank you for justifying my unnecessary purchase.”

Your words hang in the air, everything going quiet as you wait for the ravishing stranger to introduce himself. The two of you stare in silence at each other, the tension thickening as the seconds pass by. After a few moments, his face flashes in realization—you were waiting for his name.

“I’m Bucky,” he offers with an enchanting smile, extending his hand out to you. You share your name as the two of you shake hands. Your eyes stare down his veiny arm to his ring-studded fingers grasped around yours. You allow yourself to imagine for a few moments how amazing those fingers would feel tracing your arms, tangling your hair, and teasing your inner thigh. Your lustful reverie comes to an abrupt halt at the sight of the book nestled inside the crook of his elbow: The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, the bane of your existence. You scoff with furrowed brows; of course, Mr. Handsome Stranger would be interested in the one book you despise.

“Got something to say there, sweetheart?” he questions with an amused grin.

“Out of all the classic novels in this entire store, that’s the one you chose? The Metamorphosis?”

“What’s wrong with this one?” he jives.

You pause for a second, debating whether it’s worth it to argue with a stranger. The pondering lasts only a few seconds; the exhaustion from your day disintegrates your filter. Besides, you loathe The Metamorphosis.

“What isn’t wrong with it? The dude wakes up thinking he’s an insect? The reader has to sit there throughout the entire book, wondering whether he’s a man or a bug? What the actual fuck? I didn’t appreciate the existential crisis that book gave me at fifteen; if I can help someone else avoid the suffering caused by that monstrosity, I'm going to do my part,” you huff, unamused by the joy Bucky seems to gain from your zealous analysis.

“Wow, what a passionate review! Perez Hilton would be envious of your slander. Okay then, what classic would you recommend instead?”

You cross your arms, expecting him to challenge your response. “The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde.”

“That’s a play,” he counters.

“It’s published as a book; it counts! It’s witty, playful, and has a happy ending, which is the most important point of all. It also doesn’t make you want to pull a Fahrenheit 451 and burn every copy in existence,” you attest.

He steps closer to you, tucking loose strands of his hair behind his ear. “Life doesn’t always have a happy ending, sweetheart.”

Great, there he goes again with that freaking pet name; it’s going to be the death of you. He knows your name, you just gave it to him, yet here he is, infuriatingly insisting on calling you sweetheart instead. Stupid pretty boy with his ocean blue eyes and amorous smile.

“That’s exactly the point,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “So, why would I want to read something that doesn’t end well? If I’m going to escape this reality for a while, it better be for a happier one.”

“And if it's not?”

“Then I’ll throw the book across the room and make up my own happy ending!”

“Ooh, aggressive,” he tuts. “The owner of this place might not be too happy with you if you’re throwing books all over the place; it’ll scare away the customers.”

“Then it’s a good thing the owner isn’t here,” you interject confidently, knowing full well you have no idea who the owner is.

“Well, that just isn’t true, sweetheart. You’re looking right at him.”

He’s lying—he has to be. Why would a dreamboat like Bucky own a bookstore?

You scoff, “you’re not the owner of this place.”

“I’m not? What makes you say that?” he banters.

“People like you don’t own bookstores!” you exclaim.

“People like me?” he goads, cocking his head to the side. The action erupts butterflies in your stomach.

“Attractive people!” you groan.

“So you think I’m attractive?” he plays, stepping to close the gap between you.

“Psh, no, you wish,” you muster. The heat spreading across your cheeks betrays your bluff.

There are mere inches between the both of you now; you hope he can’t hear your racing heartbeat. You watch his eyes go down from yours to your mouth and back up again. He eyes you with a smirk, his teeth playfully tugging his bottom lip. It takes everything in your power not to give in to his spell.

“I’ve known you for what, five minutes? I don’t go around kissing strangers, Bucky,” you falter, taking a step back from his closeness.

“Then let’s not be strangers, sweetheart. Grab a coffee with me; I know a nice place, not far from here,” he flirts, gesturing to the counter at the back of the store.

“Let me learn more about what goes on in that pretty little head of yours,” he purrs, his breath tickling your cheek.

“Okay, fine. I’ll have a coffee with you,” you surrender.

A bright, honeyed smile dons his face.  

“It better be good, though. Not the stale crap you usually get in the middle of the afternoon.”

“I’d only give you the best, sweetheart,” he winks, extending his right hand. You take it; he gives you a soft squeeze before weaving you through the towering shelves.

Your discussion continues with another passionate book review as he prepares your drink. He’s a sucker for gritty dystopian novels while you gravitate towards sappy romances. He shares his passion for painting as he guides you to the reading nook. The artwork hung on the edges of the bookcases is crafted by him—a detail you hadn’t noticed at first glance. His stunning work features both landscapes and people. He loves to sit in a picturesque landscape and paint for endless hours. Occasionally, he takes his old polaroid as he explores the town, snapping moments between strangers, translating their intimacy to canvas when he gets home.

He gestures for you to take a seat in the reading nook before handing you our steaming cup of joe. You sit with your legs crossed, your hands hugging the mug in your lap. Bucky sits with his leg draped over the side of the bench, his left foot pressing into his right thigh. The conversation shifts topics; the two of you divulge your desires and unfulfilled ambitions. You aren’t sure if it’s the look in his eyes, the sweet cup of joe in your palms, or the aroma of coffee surrounding you, but in his presence, your senses feel wide awake.

Before you know it, the mesmeric moon replaces the sizzling sun, melting away the blistering heat, and the steaming cup of coffee in your hands has long chilled. Bucky’s employee interrupts the blissful rendezvous, informing him that all the closing duties are complete, and he’s headed home for the night.

You stare at your watch in shock—it's five past nine. Where did the time go? You apologize profusely to the poor kid who had to close up alone; he assures you it’s no problem.

A melancholic pit in your stomach forms as you turn back to Bucky. He’s nestled himself into your soul; you don’t want to say farewell to him so soon. He has a sad glint in his eyes; you hope it’s because he’s also dreading the end of this perfect night.

“Can I walk you to your car?” he asks timidly, his earlier suave demeanor gone from his voice. He stands up in front of you, offering his arm to escort you.

“I’d love that,” you reply with a shy grin, grabbing his arm and hugging it tightly.

In the blink of an eye, you’re in front of your car. You let go of his arm and lean against the trunk. You stare into his eyes, hoping that he can see without the use of words how much you don’t want this moment to end. There’s a few moments of painful silence before Bucky clears his throat.

“So, now that we’re not total strangers, how about that kiss?” he flirts with pleading eyes.

“Okay,” you reply with a bashful smile.

He slowly reaches his hand towards your cheek, softly stroking it with his thumb. He presses his forehead against yours. “Are you sure you want to do this? ‘Cause if we do, you might not be able to get rid of me, sweetheart.”

“Yes I do, Bucky,” you giggle.

He grins as he gently presses his pillowy pink lips on yours. The kiss steals all the air from your lungs—his touch sends tingles throughout your body, electrifying your veins. You’re breathless when your lips finally part.

“Let me get your number before I let you go,” Bucky insists. You nod and hand him your phone, unable to form a coherent thought.  The ghost of his lips and fingers trace your figure. You’re barely acquainted with his tender touch, yet you feel naked without it, yearning to once again be within his grasp.

You exchange phones—adding your number and name with a sparkling heart emoji and swiftly passing his phone back before you can change your mind. Bucky snaps a quick selfie for his contact, smirking for the camera. You grin when you see he also put emojis by his name: a beetle and a kissy-face.

He pecks your cheek before opening the car door for you. “Hope to see you around, lovebug.” The new pet name burns your cheeks and erupts butterflies in your stomach.

He doesn’t leave the parking lot until your car disappears completely from his view.

You drive home with thoughts of Bucky swirling in your mind. You send a silent thanks to the universe for bringing this beautiful man into your life. His voice, touch, and smile echo in your thoughts for the remainder of the evening—his presence paving its way through your dreams. You’re falling hard and fast; you only hope he’ll be there to catch you.

tagging a few mutuals who expressed interest in this story🥰please fill out the taglist form if you’d like to be tagged in the next story! 💖

@ritesofreverie @midnightf @certainaesthetic

[just-another-blog-of-fluff]

A Game of Jealousy

Word count: 4050

This one is focused more from Loki's perspective, lots of fluff (and tickles!) Guest starring Bucky 😎

* * *

Loki never needed anyone to make him happy. He’d spent the better part of his life on his own, learning to rely on himself and not others for comfort. He’d been lied to his entire life by his parents, and while his relationship with his brother was at least improving gradually over time, he still remained very guarded, afraid that anyone he let in would only hurt him the way everyone else in his life had done. No, Loki felt he was better off alone.

That is, until he met you.

You had joined the team about a year ago, just a few months after Loki himself had finally given in to his brother’s persistent requests for him to move into the Avengers tower. The others were polite enough, but Loki could still sense the fear and anger in their eyes when they looked his way. Thor insisted they would warm up to him over time if he’d just try to be more sociable, but it was difficult to bring himself to want to spend time with people who burned holes into his soul with their eyes.

The day you had arrived to move into the tower to join the team, your few belongings in hand, his curiosity was piqued almost instantly. Steve had showed you around that first day, introducing you to all the members of the team. Loki had been in the study, reading in one of the oversized armchairs Tony had furnished the place with, when he saw Steve walking by the doorway with you in tow. You’d paused for a moment, taking a few paces backward to peek inside the room, eyes trained on Loki. He had braced himself for the inevitable exclamation of surprise and fear when you realized that you were living in the same building as the monster who tried to take over the city.

But it never came. You had merely smiled at him, waving in greeting, and introduced yourself as you would with anyone else. Even when he told you his name, your eyes lit up in recognition, but without an ounce of fear. You had hurried along to catch up with Steve after expressing your pleasure to have met him, a slight bounce in your step as you disappeared from sight.

He couldn’t deny it – he was intrigued by you.

Loki’s interest only grew as he began to get to know you more over the next couple of months. The first day he had seen you working with Natasha in the training room, you had impressed him with your grit and determination, not to mention the graceful ferocity with which you fought. And you were smart, too. He’d never forget the day Tony was teasing you, and you’d come up with such a witty retort that even Tony had to applaud you.

Unfortunately, Loki wasn’t the only one in the tower who had started noticing you.

As you became more integrated with the team, the others began to get more physically affectionate toward you. You spent a lot of time with Wanda, often leaning against her on the couch as you watched TV or giving her hand a squeeze when one of you was excited about something. Steve often put a comforting hand on your shoulder after a rough day of training or patted your back in encouragement when you came back from a successful mission. The friendly gestures never bothered Loki to any significant degree.

But there were other team members, notably single team members, whose advances tended to irk him more than the others. Thor was one of the worst offenders, as it was in his nature to wrap any one of his friends into a giant bear hug whenever he saw them. Bucky often liked to push your buttons, teasing you and egging you on until you’d start play wrestling with him on the couch. Even Bruce, on occasion, would wrap an arm around you in a side hug and squeeze you against his side for a moment in silent thanks whenever you’d help him with something in the lab.

He wasn’t jealous, of course. He just… wished they’d give you more personal space sometimes.

You were physically affectionate with Loki as well, which took some time for him to get used to at first. Once Loki started swallowing his pride and began initiating conversations with you instead of waiting for you to talk to him, the two of you became fast friends. He found he didn’t mind it when you squeezed his arm after a jump scare during team movie night, or if you rested your head on his shoulder on a long plane ride home from a mission. Dare he say… he even enjoyed it a bit. Recently, he’d developed enough confidence to initiate physical contact with you himself – giving you a quick hug goodnight when walking you to your room after a late-night conversation or resting his hand on your knee when sitting side by side on the couch.

Yes, you were someone he was willing to tolerate.

One evening, Loki was wandering through the compound, trying to find a quiet place to sit and read. Normally he lounged in the study, but it seemed Peter had overtaken the room with his schoolbooks as he studied frantically for one of his final exams the next day, and he showed no signs of leaving. He decided it would be easiest just to read in his room tonight but decided to swing by the kitchen to grab a glass of water before making his way back there.

As he paced down the hallway, a sound coming from the common room captured his attention. He drew near enough to the door to elucidate that it was your bright, infectious laughter that he was hearing. His heart swelled at the sound. Loki very much enjoyed making you laugh, often telling you embarrassing stories of Thor from their childhood, or otherwise whispering inappropriate jokes in your ear during team meetings, just so he could hear you snort before erupting with giggles. He reached the common room and stood in the doorway, trying to identify the cause for your hysterics.

You and Bucky were sitting on the large sofa in the common room. Although, admittedly, you couldn’t really call it sitting. You were leaning away from the super soldier, giggling frantically and swatting at his hands as he wiggled his fingers into your sides.

“Buckyhyhy! Cut it out!” you ordered, grasping at his wrists. Bucky’s agile hands evaded yours, poking and prodding at your belly and sides.

“What? What’s the matter? I thought you said you weren’t ticklish,” he teased, squeezing gently above your kneecaps, and eliciting a squeal.

A pang of jealousy stung in Loki’s chest. He had discovered your ticklishness a few months ago himself, having accidentally jabbed you a bit too gently in the side during an impromptu sparring session. When he dug his fingers into your torso with more intent, you had shrieked and laughed, but hadn’t pushed away as hard as he knew you could. He interpreted it as you enjoying the playfulness, or at least not minding it all that much. Since then, he had experimented on occasion, proudly discovering over time that you were definitely most sensitive right along your ribs where your back and sides met. He delighted in the silly, giggly mess you became when he scribbled his fingers into that spot, practically melting into his side as your muscles weakened with laughter.

Now, watching you and Bucky as he tested out your vulnerable spots, he felt his throat tighten a bit. He knew he had to find a way to interrupt this little exchange without letting on how he was really feeling inside. Luckily, the God of Mischief knew how to tell a good lie, and above all he most definitely knew how to spin a partial truth.

“You’re doing it wrong, Barnes,” he called into the room, leaning with his forearm propped against the doorway. Both you and Bucky glanced up at him, Bucky’s fingers slowing a bit against the back of your knee but not quite stopping.

“L-Lokihihi! Help!” you pleaded, a bright smile on your face, cheeks tinged with the exertion of your laughter. His heart skipped a bit at the request, proud that you would seek his assistance to escape the winter soldier. But he had to hold firm in his resolve. He couldn’t let you think he was soft for you, after all.

“Now, why would I want to do that? It’s so entertaining to watch you squirm.” He flashed you an evil grin, slowly striding into the room. “Move over, Barnes. Allow me to demonstrate.”

Bucky obliged, an equally mischievous smirk on his face. “Please, do tell!”

Loki motioned to you to scoot closer to Bucky so he could sit on your other side, gently pushing you over when you refused to make space for him on your own accord. You were now sandwiched between him and the super soldier, glancing nervously between the two men. In a desperate attempt to escape, you suddenly leapt to your feet to make a run for the door. Loki predicted your movement, his hands pulling you back down by your waist before you could even fully stand up.

“Ah, ah! You won’t be going anywhere, darling,” Loki teased, holding you in place while he leaned around you to look at Bucky. He ignored your desperate protests in favor of keeping you trapped there beside him. “Now then. First, you must understand that you won’t be able to access her worst spot until you weaken her adequately. Personally, I enjoy beginning right here.” He slid his hands slid around your waist to your belly, fingers drumming tauntingly against your T-shirt. Loki felt your muscles stiffen immediately under his touch, which made him grin.

“Loki! What the hell! Why are you helpihiHING HIHIHIM?” Your scolding of your mischievous friend was made much less intimidating as giggles bubbled from your lips once again, Loki’s fingers having sprung into action, expertly skimming across your belly. Your hands closed around his wrists and tugged to try to remove them from your sensitive torso, but Loki maintained his hold on you.

“Ah, yes, I see that is quite effective,” Bucky noted somberly, his eyes flashing. “Please, continue to show me your ways.”

“Notice that she will continue to fight you when you tickle her here, but trust that her laughter is slowly beginning to weaken her,” Loki continued, conversing casually as if he weren’t torturing you. “However, if you aren’t cautious-“

“Ha!” you shouted triumphantly, having twisted out of his grip and jumped to your feet.

“-she may find a way to escape.”

“That is unfortunate,” Bucky lamented. “What do you suggest if that were to occur?”

“No! No suggestions!” you demanded, defiantly holding out a hand toward the boys to protect yourself. Loki raised his eyebrows, looking up at you with a serious expression, although he was unable to prevent a smirk from pulling at the corners of his lips. You appeared so much more composed on the battlefield and in the training room – seeing you so disheveled, yet still with an involuntary smile on your face, made a thrill run through Loki’s chest.

“If she does escape,” Loki continued, completely disregarding your protests, and trying desperately not to start laughing at your adorably indignant expression, “you simply need to ensure you have a backup plan. Catch her off guard, if you will. Like this-“

Taking advantage of his inhuman speed, he lunged forward and grabbed your leg just behind your knee, causing your leg to buckle unexpectedly beneath you. He chuckled as he watched you stumble a bit on your other leg to try to remain standing but couldn’t maintain your balance and toppled to the floor. Loki swiftly took advantage of your bewilderment at finding yourself suddenly on the ground, standing up and grabbing hold of your ankle.

“Now, you won’t find her worst spot on her legs or feet, but she is most definitely still sensitive here – this can serve to weaken her resolve further,” Loki continued, fully aware that he was causing a blush to rise in your cheeks now as he tugged on your ankle to straighten your leg, yanking you onto your back. You began cursing at him, which he quickly silenced by dusting his fingertips across the sole of your trapped foot. He had discovered this spot a few weeks ago, when you had refused to move your legs to allow him a place to sit. Not to be deterred, he had plopped himself down atop your shins, grinning at you as he had tested your reaction to his fingers dragging up the bottoms of your feet. The frenzied giggles this elicited from you were some of his favorites, only encouraging him to want to continue with the torment.

“But what about her knees? Will that help to weaken her resolve?” Bucky queried, smirking down at you as you shot him a glare.

“Allow me to show you,” Loki obliged, his hand moving to scratch against the delicate underside of your knee. You snorted, then, and he nearly broke his façade by laughing aloud. He experimentally pinched your calf muscle gently, just below your knee, and was not disappointed by your sudden violent jerking of your leg away from his touch. “Ah, a new weak spot. You see, even being an expert at tormenting our little friend, you can still learn something new.” Loki was speaking to Bucky but kept his eyes trained on you, smirking as you beat your fist against the floor in protest.

“I thought wehehe were friends!!” you cried through your laughter. Feeling somewhat merciful, Loki paused his torture and lowered your leg back to the ground, offering you a hand up.

“I apologize, darling; are you tired of this?” Loki asked, holding a hand down to you in offering to help you to your feet. He kept his hand outstretched as you sat up on the floor, your eyes fixed on his, brows furrowed as if trying to decipher whether he was tricking you. Hesitantly, you took his hand. Your skin was pleasantly warm against his own, which almost made him regret what he was about to do.

Almost.

No sooner had your feet rooted onto the ground beneath you did he grab hold of your arm, spinning you around and wrapping both arms tight around your waist. He wasted no time dragging you backward so your back was flush against his chest, his ticklish touch making its way to your lower ribs. You let out a shriek, followed by rambunctious belly laughter. He relished in the feeling of your giggles vibrating against his chest as he tightened his grip around your waist, holding fast against your desperate thrashing.

“If you can convince the girl to trust you,” he continued, having to speak loudly to be heard over your squealing, “an unwise decision, honestly,” he added, his voice rumbling low in your ear, “you may be able to trick her into falling into your trap.” You screamed his name as he walked his fingers agonizingly slowly up your ribcage, your fingers hooking around his wrists and pulling desperately at his hands.

“An excellent tip, thanks for that,” Bucky teased. You whined at his words, which somehow only made your laughter even more adorable. Loki had the sudden urge to squeeze you tighter and nuzzle his nose into your neck, but he thought that you might interpret such a gesture as a flirtatious advance, and he didn’t want to spoil this little game.

At this point you were doubled over, hands weakly tugging at Loki’s fingers as your muscles began to fatigue. Loki could sense that you were leaning more and more of your weight on his arms as you tired, forcing him to tighten his grip even further to keep you from collapsing onto the floor. He slowed his torment a bit, allowing you a moment to rest. You gasped for air, your chest heaving under his forearms with every breath.

“Notice, Barnes, that she has weakened considerably by this point,” Loki explained, continuing under the ruse of showing Bucky how to torture you. “It is only at this level of exhaustion that you will be able to target her one true weak spot.”

Loki felt you jolt at his suggestion, twisting your torso as much as you could in his vice-like grip to look back at him, wide-eyed. You shook your head, pleading with him. He hardened his expression, albeit with some difficulty as he was struggling to wipe the smile off his face, and he splayed his fingers across your ribs so his fingertips rested just along that overly sensitive spot near your back on each side. You were already giggling, bracing yourself for the inevitable torment that was to come.

“Ahahahaha… please Loki, you dohohon’t have to do thihihis!” you begged, pouting at him. Loki couldn’t help but laugh at that, his heart melting at your tiny frown and protruding bottom lip. For a moment, he considered releasing you. But then again, he was getting drunk off of your sweet laughter, and he wasn’t ready for it to stop.

“Sorry, love – I have to show Barnes how to tickle you properly,” he lamented, a faux sympathetic smile on his lips. Before you could beg him once more and break his resolve, he went in for the kill, fingers drilling into the crevices between your ribs. You screeched, torso jerking in his grip for a moment before going limp as you accepted your fate. Loki knew exactly how to tickle you, his fingers expertly vibrating against your ribcage until your laughter became silent. He finally relented after that, loosening his hold so you could catch your breath but not releasing you yet.

With his arms loosened, he could lean around to get a better view of your face. Your cheeks were bright, small tears of mirth collecting in the corners of your eyes. You still had a smile plastered across your face, so wide it caused your nose to scrunch up the tiniest bit. Loki’s heart fluttered at the sight of you, pleased that he had been the cause of your giddy laughter.

“That was an excellent demonstration,” Bucky observed, winking at you as you groaned. “Could I give it a go?”

Loki hesitated, and you stiffened, already arguing with the super soldier. He had anticipated this might occur, given he was supposedly teaching Bucky how to tickle you ‘correctly.’ Still, the idea of having to watch Bucky’s fingers skittering over your belly or scribbling into your knees made his throat burn with jealousy. If he refused, though, he would almost surely give away his feelings.

Reluctantly, though he hid it well, Loki motioned for Bucky to take his place behind you, releasing you only once Bucky’s arms snaked around your waist. Your pleas for mercy were quickly drowned out by your laughter once again as Bucky’s fingers spidered along your ribcage.

“You weren’t kidding – this is much more effective,” Bucky noted, your resolve already weakened from the prior bout of torment. Loki watched as you leaned involuntarily backward into the winter soldier, your head resting back against his shoulder as you submitted to his ticklish onslaught. Loki’s fingers contracted into a tight fist at his side, willing himself not to intervene and give away his displeasure. But damn it, if watching Bucky’s fingers exploring your ticklish sides wasn’t setting a fire in his belly. It felt as though someone had grabbed hold of his heart in his chest and was squeezing it painfully tightly in their clutches.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Knowing you wouldn’t appreciate if he lashed out at your friend, Loki placed a firm hand on Bucky’s forearm, urging him to stop without saying a word. Confusion etched itself into Bucky’s features as he stilled his fingers against your sides, his grip around you loosening. Your eyes were shimmering with exertion as you looked up at Loki pleadingly.

“I believe she has had enough for today,” Loki stated sternly. He took a step toward the two of you, swiftly scooping you up bridal style in his arms without a second thought. You let out a squeak of surprise as your feet left the ground, your arms instinctively reaching up to wrap around Loki’s neck to stabilize yourself. He turned back around with you in his arms, looking Bucky in the eye. “I’ll be taking her now, thank you.”

Bucky held Loki’s gaze, his face contorting from confusion to surprise, then finally to a knowing smirk. He nodded in approval, waving him off nonchalantly as he returned to his original seat on the couch and turned on the television. Loki carried you out of the room, a fuzzy warmth spreading through his chest as you began to giggle once again, leaning your head into his shoulder.

He arrived at your room, opening the door with his magic so as not to risk dropping you, then turned to avoid striking your head on the doorframe as he carried you inside. Carefully, he set you down on your bed. You sat up, your legs dangling off the edge of the bed as you smiled up at him.

“Your savior has rescued you from the winter soldier’s clutches,” Loki teased, smirking.

“Excuse me – my savior? If I recall, you were the one who nearly tickled me to death,” you retorted, playfully shoving him as he sat down beside you on the bed.

“You enjoyed every minute of it, love,” he smirked, giving you a swift poke in the side to make you jump. You smirked back at him with mischief in your eyes.

“You know, I know exactly what you were doing back there.” Something in your calculated gaze made Loki’s heartbeat quicken ever so slightly.

“Is that so? And what is it you think I was doing?” Loki asked, trying to keep his tone casual and sarcastic to avoid giving himself away. You leaned closer to him, bravely holding his gaze.

“You were jealous of Bucky,” you declared. “You couldn’t stand to see him with his hands on me, even when it was as innocent as tickling. You don’t think I noticed?”

Loki opened his mouth to retort, but for quite possibly the first time in his life, the silver-tongued god was at a loss for words. You maddeningly perceptive thing. You’d seen straight through his little façade and into his heart. Your eyes glowed with the triumph of having silenced the God of Mischief with just a simple observation.

“Do you deny it?” you queried, your grin expanding. Loki sighed, recognizing he’d been caught.

“No, love. I can’t deny it.”

“Good.” Your hand reached up to touch his cheek, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. The shock of your sudden advance was quickly replaced by elation, and Loki kissed you back fervently. His hands found your waist, gently grasping your hips with enough weight in his touch to keep from tickling you. He felt you smile sweetly against his lips. When you finally broke away, Loki lifted his hands to cup your face, resting his forehead against yours. “Now then – I believe I’m owed some payback for the torture you just put me through…”

“Oh, really?” Loki raised his eyebrows at you, grinning playfully. “And how do you intend to execute such revenge?”

“Hmm… Maybe I’ll just take a page out of your book.” The mischief in your eye reminded him uncannily of himself. He suddenly felt your delicate fingers squeezing into his side, making him jolt. Your face lit up with pure joy as you witnessed his reaction.

Oh, he couldn’t be having that.

His arms were wrapped around you in a flash, dragging you into his chest and leaning backward until you were lying on top of his chest in his arms, eliciting a squeal. He leaned in close, his lips right beside your ear.

“Darling, you don’t want to be doing that.”

The room was soon filled with your frantic giggles once again. But this time, you really didn’t try to get away. Because in all honesty, he was right before – you loved every minute of it.

[babyboibucky]

Birthday Tiara

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You weren’t enjoying your birthday until Bucky comes along.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: SMUUUT, oral (m receiving), p in v penetration, unprotected sex

A/N: This is dedicated to our birthday girl @whoth3hellisbucky 🥰 I’m so happy and flattered that you sent me this request!!! I wrote and finished this piece as soon as I got your request lmao that’s how excited I was. I really hope you’d enjoy this!!! Happy Birthday and have a great one, lovely!!! 😘

MAIN MASTERLIST

How in the fresh hell did you end up being in someone else’s birthday party during your own birthday? You have no idea in all honesty. Was it fun? Yeah sure, free unli-booze for you and your friends.

Were you having fun though? Not really.

This was supposed to be your day, and initially it was. You’d taken your girl friends out to dinner, did some pre-gaming at a nice bar and then went from one club to another. Everything was peachy and going as planned until one of your friends saw her co-worker who happened to be on her way to another friend’s house for a party.

One thing led to another and now you were here, in a stranger’s house and all by yourself because your so-called friends were too drunk to even remember why all of you were out together in the first place.

“Best birthday ever.” You harrumphed sarcastically as you stepped out into the backyard.

You shivered at the cold wind that welcomed you and wrapped your arms around yourself. Letting out a melancholic sigh, you began to kick at the ground in disappointment at how the night went.

Looking up, you found yourself staring into a pair of ocean blue eyes. You didn’t know whether you had looked at each other at the same time or if he had been watching you ever since.

He was standing a few meters away from you, with two other ladies who were chatting with each other. The man was tall and handsome, you could see that even in the dark. Brunette locks and a five day old stubble, donning a jacket with a wool collar— very, very handsome.

As if his physical appearance wasn’t attention-grabbing enough, he even had a plastic tiara on his head and you have no idea why.

The two of you continued eye fucking each other but neither of you decided to make any move. Despite the guy engaging in a conversation with the girls, his eyes kept going back to yours. You smirked when he winked at you before taking a long sip from his drink.

His eyes were glued onto you even as he brought a blunt up to his lips, taking a quick drag from it before handing it over to the girl in front of him.

And then he made a face at you, his hands gesturing as if he was telling you what the fuck are these girls even talking about?

You chuckled at his face and shook your head. Deciding that maybe, it was time to go home, you waved at the guy and walked away.

“I was asking you to come and rescue me out there, not leave me behind.”

Turning around, you found that the guy was already standing in front of you. Now that he was closer, you realized how tall and well-built he was. Your eyes automatically scanned him, from his wide chest down to his—

“Bucky.” He said, interrupting your thoughts.

“Bucky?” You repeated in question.

He nodded, “That’s my name. And you are?”

You eyed him suspiciously, trying to read his expression but he was just smiling at you and waiting for an introduction. You told him your name and shook his hand before the both of you started walking around aimlessly.

“What brought you here?” Bucky asked, hands inside the pockets of his jeans.

You shrugged, “Beats me. You?”

He mimicked your gesture, “Got dragged by a friend and now I can’t find him.”

You snorted, “Tell me about it. I was out with my friends to celebrate my birthday and now I’m alone.”

Bucky stopped in his tracks and tugged you back, his hand around your arm sending shivers down your spine.

“Hold on, it’s your birthday?” He asked with amusement. “As in today?”

You nodded, “Yup.”

Bucky licked his lips as he stared down at you, “You got a couple hours left to make the most out of it.”

You bit your lip, knowing exactly how you want to make the most out of it. Bucky was an attractive guy, you weren’t going to deny that. And he seemed to be insinuating at something too and honestly, you were up for it.

You were pissed off at your friends for ditching you for someone else’s party. At this point, you’d do anything to turn the tables around and make your birthday memorable at the last minute.

“Have any suggestions on how I can do that?” You asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

Bucky smirked, taking off his tiara and then placing it on your head.

“I’ve some things in mind that I can show you, princess.”

-

Bucky had you pinned against the door of whoever’s bedroom it was that the both of you first stumbled in. His lips were bruising yours as he kissed you fervently, hands wandering all over your body, cupping, squeezing whatever he can.

“Whose room is this?” You panted against Bucky’s lips as you pushed his jacket off his broad shoulders.

Bucky licked your lips and then began kissing his way from your jaw down to your collarbones, “No fuckin’ idea and I don’t care.” He huffed against your skin, tugging at the straps of your dress.

Your hands fumbled with the buttons of his top, almost popping them off with urgency when you felt a hand brush your folds through the thin material of your lace underwear.

“Shit, wet already.” Bucky grunted before grabbing the hem of your panties, pulling it down your legs.

Finally, you managed to completely remove Bucky’s shirt, revealing his more than average body beneath all his clothing.

“Fuck, happy birthday to me.” You moaned before pushing Bucky towards the bed, climbing over him and straddling him.

Bucky groaned when you sat on him, your bare cunt pressed against his clothed erection. He watched you with lust-filled eyes as you reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it off and then throwing it aside. He chuckled when you fixed the tiara on your head, straightening it up.

Bucky’s hand slid from your thighs up to your waist, his rough palms leaving goosebumps in its wake until he reached your breasts. He cupped them before he unclasped your bra behind you, revealing your entire body to him.

He sat up and licked a nipple, eliciting a breathy moan from you as your hips began to grind against the rough material of his jeans.

“Fuck, baby. You messed up my jeans.” He chuckled, noticing the damp spot on his crotch.

You couldn’t care less anymore, you needed Bucky right now. You wanted to feel him against you, inside of you. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system or the sheer disappointment how your birthday went down, but you were desperate to get laid.

Bucky sucked your other nipple, his tongue laving at it playfully as your hands grabbed at his fluffy hair.

You moaned out his name when he pulled away, laying back down but leaving his hands on top of your thighs.

“Come get your present, birthday girl.” He rasped, head tipping towards the impressive tent on his pants.

You practically purred and wasted no time to unzip him, quickly pulling his pants down together with his black boxer briefs. His cock sprang free, slapping against his abs and you salivated at the sight of it— hard, red and weeping.

Taking his shaft in your hand, you bent down and licked a thick stripe from his balls up until the tip, tongue twirling around his crown earning a low groan from him.

“I’m not even sure if it’s still your birthday we’re celebrating or mine.” Bucky quipped breathlessly when you repeated the action.

You took the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking on it and letting your tongue flick against his slit while your hand began to give him slow but firm strokes. Bucky lifted his head up to watch you, hands framing your face before he decided to fix the tiara that was still tangled into your hair.

“Look at you, baby. Lookin’ like a dirty little princess with my cock in her pretty mouth.” He grunted, moving his hips to get more of his cock into your mouth.

You hummed around Bucky’s length, relaxing your jaw as you tried to take all of him. He was too big and girthy but god, he tasted magnificent. Even without touching yourself, you could feel your wetness gush out of your throbbing cunt.

The kind of throb that needed to be addressed as soon as possible.

Bobbing your head, you squeezed Bucky’s balls making his hips thrust upwards before you released him with a lewd pop.

“Wanna fuck you now, princess. Come here.” Bucky said and took your face in his hands when you climbed back up, pulling you down into an urgent kiss.

You whimpered into the kiss when you felt Bucky line his cock into your entrance, pushing his hips upwards until the head was in. Straightening up, you placed your hands on his chest and carefully sunk down on his length.

Both of you moaned in unison when he bottomed out, the heat in your abdomen growing and growing until you felt like your entire body was on fire.

“Go on, princess. I’m all yours, take what you need.” Bucky urged, holding onto your hips and guiding you to grind down on his cock.

The slow, deliberate roll of your hips against Bucky’s turned desperate, with you moaning out his name as you bounced on his erection. You watched Bucky throw his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he growled at the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around his cock.

You grabbed one hand on your hips and brought it up to your breast, letting him fondle it as you rode Bucky. He let the pad of his thumb brush against your nipple before pinching down on it, making you cry out in pleasure.

“Bucky, fuck! I’m close...” you whimpered, legs burning but never stopping as you chased your high.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down to him before rolling over until he was on top. His hips pummeled into you hard and fast, lips attaching onto your own and swallowing your whines.

“Cum for me, princess. Come on.” Bucky growled against your lips.

A certain snap of his hips allowed his cock to hit your sweet spot, sending you into a spiral of pleasure. Your body went rigid as you climaxed, your toes curling and your fingers digging deep into Bucky’s ass as your pussy clenched around him.

Bucky kept on thrusting, his breaths mingling with yours until he too came with a low grunt. You hummed at the feeling of his warm release filling you up.

“Fuck.” Bucky breathed out, his body going limp against yours.

You stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, catching up on your breath before you let out a chirpy chuckle.

“I feel bad for the person who owns this room.” You admitted.

Bucky pressed a gentle kiss on the side of your throat before lifting himself up with his forearms.

“I don’t.” He said before leaning down to kiss your lips.

“Happy birthday, princess.” He greeted again before removing the tiara on your head.

“Like I said, I had a couple of ideas on how you can make the most out of your birthday. We just checked the first one on the list.”

You made a face, unable to believe that Bucky wasn’t done with you yet. Before you could even protest, Bucky beat you to it by flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Lay down and let me show you how a princess should be treated.”

-

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