#the winter is beautiful but i hate the cold and the dark | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

holylulusworld · 3 months

Text

Lumberjack Tales - The Hairy Bear

Summary: He doesn’t want to have company.

Pairing: Lumberjack!Ari Levinson x fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, spanking, orgasm denial, possessive Ari, a hint of dark/grey Ari?

Rating: Explicit

Square filled for @julybreakbingo: Square filled: "Park"

Square filled for @eclipsingbingo: Held down

This story is part of my Lumberjack Tales masterlist

Solitude. No people. No stress. No noises. That’s how he likes it, and he wouldn’t want to change it for anything.

He chose this life. After selling his company for more money than he could ever spend, Ari bought a forest to build a huge, luxurious cabin for himself alone. He’s got everything he needs. And what he doesn’t get, he can make with his strong hands.

Some people may call him crazy. A former CEO and successful businessman turning into a lumberjack building his furniture on free terms. Ari doesn’t care. He gives a shit on other people’s opinion.

Today is one of the rare days he must drive to the only town near his private forest. Ari hates leaving his solitude and meeting people. After a bad divorce, he’s not the most social person.

But – a man gotta eat even if he’s got a beautiful garden behind his cabin and a lake filled with fish. He needs more to fill his pantry. Beer, toilet paper, and batteries do not grow on trees.

“Mr. Levinson,” Susie, the clerk from the grocery store chirps when Ari walks toward the checkout. “Is that all?” She glances at the two shopping carts filled with everything he’ll need over the next weeks. Maybe even a month, or two. “Plastic or paper?”

“Paper,” he grumbles under his breath. “Plastic is bad for the environment.” Ari shakes his head at his words. Years ago, he would’ve given a shit on the environment or nature. He was obsessed with making money, a pretty woman, and fast cars.

“Sure,” she gives him a tight smile but says nothing. “Just a minute.” She snaps her fingers at the new bag boy. “Sean, get over here. We have a customer.”

Ari would like to roll his eyes as the boy groans loudly. He was on his phone, undoubtedly making a TikTok video to share with his two followers instead of doing his job.

“SEAN!” She grunts when he doesn’t move an inch. “If you don’t come here in a second, you are fired.”

“Man, if I made my first million with my video, I’ll quit,” Sean grumbles while reluctantly starting to pack Ari’s groceries into paper bags. “You will see. I’ll get out of this shitty town in no time.”

Ari holds back a comment. He learned that it’s better to shut your mouth and not get involved with the town’s folk. Unlike the cheery clerk at the grocery store, most people in this sleepy little town do not like him.

Especially because he stopped them from clearing the forest he bought. “Cash or card?”

“Card,” Ari swipes his card over the device. “Have a good day.”

Before Sean can grab the bags to carry them outside, Ari wraps his arms around the paper bags to carry them out of the store.

“Idiot!” Susie mutters. “You had to piss him off. Now he won’t come back anytime soon.”

Sean harrumphs. “This is the only store in town. Your love interest will be back. This doesn’t mean he wants to take you out…”

Back in his cabin Ari busies himself putting the groceries and toiletries away. Only to make a list for more. Soon it will be winter, and he needs more supplies. Ari hates driving to town during winter. He tries to leave his cabin less during the cold times.

His dog lies on the carpet in front of the fireplace in the living room, yawning loudly as his owner tells him they’ll need more wood.

“Come, buddy. We go for one last round for tonight,” Ari clicks his tongue, causing his dog to jump up and follow him toward the door. The Estrela Mountain Dog walks next to Ari as he steps out of the cabin.

Ari closes his eyes and inhales the air deeply. He can already smell the approaching thunderstorm. “We need to hurry, buddy. I know how much you hate getting your fur wet.”

He flashes his dog a smile before buttoning up his red-black checkered plaid. “Let’s go, Bear. We don’t wanna miss dinner.”

“HEY! STOP! This is private property!”

You are already out of breath when the man and his dog chase after you. All you wanted was to go for a swim in the lake. How should you have known that the forest is private property? You camped in forests all your life without getting into trouble.

Now this big guy is chasing after you like a madman. “STOP! You cannot come to my property and steal…”

“Bear. Get them!” The man calls for his dog. The giant beast speeds up to outrun you. It jumps at you. Pushing against your back so you land on the ground, face first in the mud. Rain is pouring down on you, soaking your shorts and shirt. “Good job!”

The dog sits down on your back, making you groan loudly. “Get off me you beast.”

“Hold them down,” the man approaches you and the dog. He crouches down next to you to rip your baseball cap off your head. “What are you doing on my property?"

“I wanted to go for a swim, dude! I camp not far away from the lake. I didn’t know this was private property! Who buys a fucking forest!! That’s just wrong.”

“Dude?” He laughs. “Bear, we caught an angry wood nymph, not an intruder.” The man clicks his tongue, and the beast finally gets off your back. “There are warning signs, lady.”

“I told you,” You struggle to get on your knees, groaning as your back hurts from the dog’s attack, “I didn’t see a sign. I camp wherever I want to.”

“Not on my property,” he snaps at you as he gets back up. “Come on, the thunderstorm will only get worse.” He holds out his hand as you struggle to get back on your feet. The dog got you good. “I’ll show you the way back to the road.”

“Fucker,” you slap his hand away and get back up on your feet without his help. “You can’t let your dog attack people.”

“You are an intruder, and he tried to defend my property.”

“Dude, do I look like a danger to you, your dog, or your property?” You size the man up. He quirks a brow. “That’s what I thought.” While you try to rub the dirt from your knees and shin, the man huffs.

“You walk around my property with your little backpack and believe you get away with it? Lady, this is not a park. You can’t just come here and waltz around my property like you own it.”

“I got it, okay. This is your forest, and you hate people,” you wrinkle your nose as the rain runs down your face. “If you’d excuse me now. I’ll find my way out of your forest and into the next to put up my tent somewhere else.”

“In the middle of a thunderstorm?” He asks. “You’re not only a criminal but crazy too. You’ll get yourself killed.”

“Well, good thing that I’m not your problem, Mr. Property,” you turn around to walk opposite the way you came from. “Have a nice life.”

“Lady, that’s crazy,” despite his former behavior, he follows you. “The rain is going to get worse. You’re going to catch a cold or worse.”

“Anything is better than being around you,” you side-eye the man. If he gets too close, you’ll get your pepper spray out and show him what happens when he messes with you.

“Wait…wait up,” he grabs your arm to stop you from running off.

“Don’t touch me,” you try to wiggle out of his grasp. “I’m warning you! I got the black belt!”

He releases you but blocks your path. “I won’t hurt you, lady. My name is Ari, this is Bear.” Ari points at his dog. “He didn’t want to hurt you. If Bear wanted to hurt you, you’d be dog food.”

“You have a way with words, huh?” You look him up and down. “So…where is this street?”

“We can’t walk through the forest now,” he sighs and points toward something in the distance. “If you don’t want to walk through a forest in the middle of one of the worst thunderstorms this area ever experienced, you should come with me to my cabin.”

“Right,” you curl your upper lip. “I’ll go with you to your cabin so you can make a filet out of my ass. I won’t go anywhere with you.”

Ari snorts. He starts laughing as you watch him. “I don’t want to eat you, lady,” he grins. “I mean, I love to eat a lady out.” His eyes drop to your soaked shorts, “but only if she begs me.”

You look down at your soaked clothes. Your backpack gets heavier per minute and Ari is right, the rain is mercilessly pouring down on you. “I’ll take a picture and send it to my friend with our position and your name.”

“Be my guest,” Ari poses for you. He grins into the camera when you snap a few pictures to send them to your friend. “What about Bear?”

“Fine,” you snap a few pictures of the dog to send them to your friend too. “If you kill me now, you’ll get hunted down by my friends.”

“I won’t take the risk,” Ari winks at you. “Come on. I want to get out of my wet clothes and have some coffee.”

You begrudgingly follow Ari, hoping he’s not a psycho killer or looking for a basement wife…

“See, I’m not a killer,” Ari hands you another cup of tea. “After the storm calmed, I’ll drive you to town. You shouldn’t camp in the only other forest around here.”

“Why?” you take a sip before looking at him. You cannot deny that he’s not as bad as you believed he was. Ari offered sweatpants and one of his plaids to you. He shared his dinner with you and brewed tea for you.

“Let’s say the men around here a rather…hmm…how do I put it…”

“Assholes?”

“I think that sums it up,” Ari sits on the other side of the couch to give you space. After the first minutes he knew, you’re not a bad person and now he tries to make you see, that he’s not a bad guy either.

“Hmm…crap,” you sigh deeply. “I wanted to do something reckless for once and now, my friend will laugh about me.”

“You never camped before, right?” He watches you drop your gaze. “Why did you lie?”

“My friends bragged about their adventure trips, and I only ever soaked in the sun or visited museums during holidays. I bought a tent and…you know the rest.”

Ari snorts. “You’re the worst camper I ever met.”

“Fair,” you shrug and giggle as his eyes drop to your legs. He subconsciously licks his lips and shifts in his seat. “So…” you scoot a little closer to Ari, “how long are you living here…alone?”

“Hmm…?” He lifts his eyes from your legs to meet your eyes. “A few years.” Ari murmurs. “I left my old life behind to live here, on my own.”

“Must’ve been a good life,” you scoot even closer to look Ari in the eyes. “This is not a normal cabin. It’s rather…luxurious.”

Ari drops his eyes to your lips, licking his own. “I was a businessman before becoming a lumberjack.”

“Lumberjack,” you purr the word. “You mean the big guys wearing plaids and cutting wood.” This time, you lick your lips. “You must be very strong if you cut wood all day.”

“Not all day, sweetness,” Ari scoots a little closer, his thigh brushing yours. “Only if I need wood for my fireplace.”

“Hmm…” you get bold and move your hand to his bicep, squeezing hard. “Very strong.”

“Strong enough to throw you around if you come to my property and try to swim in my lake,” he moves his hand to your thigh, toying with the sweatpants you’re wearing. “I can spank you too, to make sure you’ll never break into anyone’s property again.”

Your eyelashes flutter, and your lips part. “You think I’d let you spank me for breaking into your property?”

His cheeks dimple. Ari dips his head as his hand creeps higher until he can press it flat against your mound. “I think you’d let me do anything I want to do to you.”

“Look at you,” he purrs in your ear. “Such a good girl, kneeling for me. I bet,” Ari circles you to watch you kneel in front of his couch. He pushes against your shoulders, forcing you to bend your upper half over the couch. “Hmm…what a nice ass you have.”

Ari cups the back of your neck to hold you down on the couch. He’s not too rough but makes sure you can feel his strength.

“I’d love to just fuck you, but you’d only cum all over my cock. I need you to feel the consequences of your actions in your bones.” Ari runs his free hand over your ass, humming as you start to whimper. He grips one cheek roughly, testing your reaction. “I’ll use this body to my liking, and you won’t deny me.”

You choke out a moan when the first smack hits your ass. “Yes…”

“Count, little tramp,” his features harden, and he smacks your cheek a little harder this time.

“One.”

“Again,” he slaps your other cheek, making it sting. “Again!”

“Two.”

“How many can you take?” It’s not a question. Ari told you he’ll give you ten, and you’ll take ten with pleasure if you get his glorious cock in return. You’re already soaking wet and cannot deny that the next smack pushes you closer to the edge.

“All you have to give, sir,” you whimper. “Three…”

“Good girl,” he soothingly runs his hand over your stinging cheeks. “Seven more and you’ll get something nice.”

The next smacks come faster and harder. “Four, five, six, seven,” at eight you’re out of breath and cry out in pleasured pain.

“Eight, nine,” he slaps your ass with both hands. “And lastly,” he slams his hand between your legs, hitting your clit. Your legs tremble and you soak his hand with your cum.

“Oh God…” You can’t come down from your unexpected high. Ari grabs you by the back of your neck to push you onto the couch.

You end up underneath him, whimpering as he moves one hand to your crotch to lift your butt to help him sink into you. He pokes your entrance, impatiently pushing the first inches into your weeping hole.

“Fuck, that’s a wet cunt,” he groans in your ear while conquering your cunt with one hard thrust. “Yeah, you’re a good girl.”

Pressed into the furniture by his hard body you can’t do anything but lie there and let him slowly fuck into you. Your juices soak his cock, and his balls with every deep thrust.

Ari is by all means not gentle. He fucks you for punishment, to make sure your body knows you did a bad thing. “Oh, baby. I lied,” he whispers in your ear after a particularly deep thrust. “I’m going to keep you here for my pleasure.” He thrusts three, or four more times, always avoiding hitting your G-spot.

Ari purrs your name and fills your cunt seconds later. “Aw, don’t whine, baby,” he sinks his teeth in your neck to leave another mark on your body. “This was punishment. You’ll cum when I allow you to cum.”

He groans against your neck, teeth grazing over one of the marks he left. Ari is a man possessed. After he filled you for the first time, he took his time to rub cream into your ass. He toyed with you, fingers and tongue bringing you to the edge, only to not let you cum again.

With your hands restrained to the bedpost, you can only watch him move on top of you. Your hands itch to touch him, but you haven’t earned it yet. You’ve been a bad girl, and he won’t allow you to get more than he’s willing to give.

Ari slowly thrusts into you, thick cock rubbing against your walls. “I want you to cum for me. Come on, little tramp, soak my cock. I want to fill this slutty hole up.”

“Please—” you eagerly meet his thrusts. “I need…please…Sir…A-R-I…” You shudder through your high. Your whole body sizes up and for a moment, you fear you died and ended up in heaven. This is the most intense orgasm you ever experienced, and it takes your breath away.

“Good…” Ari thrusts one last time and stills his hips. His warmth fills you again, and you wonder how many times he already fucked you before he let you come. “Good girl. So, fucking good for me.”

He collapses on top of you, exhausted and satisfied. “Fuck…” you breathe out. “Fuck…fuck…that was…”

“Damn, this cunt feels so good. I’m glad you’re a criminal wanting to break into my property. I didn’t have such a good fuck in years…”

“Well…I got two more weeks off so…” you wiggle your hips, making Ari groan. “I could just invade your property for a little longer and you can punish me again.”

Ari lifts his head to look at you underneath him. He smirks, liking your idea. While you look up at him, mirroring his smirk Ari plans to keep you forever…

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#ari levinson #eclipsing bingo #july break bingo #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x female reader #x reader #female reader #smut #luberjack au #lumberjack tales

479 notes · View notes

theoldsports · 10 months

Text

Moody.

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 3.3k words

depression, arguing, manipulation/toxic marriage, fucking each other over, possessiveness. it’s tamer than some of my others in an objective sense, but emphasizes dark thoughts and internal monologue.

requests always open! thanks for your kindnesses. i think this one is more experimental than the others. the objective here was to show how both of them mimic regular human feelings because they know they should, but it’s a poor pantomime. two sickos with nothing else but each other <3 i think i am going to call these works the Truculent series.

Coriolanus grew cold fast and did not tolerate heat well. He only slept only in his underclothes and wore heavy layers at the first sight of winter. His alarmingly fair complexion meant excessive sun wasn’t in the cards. In spite of his name, his scrappy build wasn’t meant to cut through harsh January terrain either. His nails chipped at labor, and his mind grew uneasy at laziness.

The world was tough on Coriolanus and he was tough right back on the word.

There was little Coriolanus was designed to do. Many people were strong, or smart, or wealthy, or drop-dead-gorgeous, or violent, or talented. There was something about every person Coriolanus could think of that made them stand out. He could easily categorized people by them. Here was the group of people known for their beautiful voices; here, those who could benchpress four-hundred pounds… Coriolanus could not be quantified like that.

Coriolanus Snow had to take what was left, like a runt. He was only good at two things: enduring and controlling. Since those were the only options leftover for him, Coriolanus became the best at them both. When, like Coriolanus, one has been gifted such shitty talents and nothing else, they have to figure out how to use them well enough to win against everyone with a better gift. Eventually, he realized his talents were not the ability to endure and the ability to control, but actually the ability to win. Eventually, he won so much, Coriolanus forgot there was ever a time when he lost (most days).

(The days he didn’t forget were the Bad Days).

Coriolanus felt like he couldn’t get out of bed on the Bad Days when the crushing weight of his failures and his ego landed across his chest. He told himself he was done with love after Lucy Gray. Disgusting Lucy Gray, a name he never wanted to even think again. He thought he would marry someone he hated and be done with love.

But junkies and addicts quit every Monday anyway.

Once he found [Y/N] again after their childhood together, there was no quitting. He knew it was bad for him, so he married what was bad for him to make sure he had an endless supply. How he hated that familiar feeling of obsession, the feeling of being so desperate that he had to rely on something other than himself. Somehow, he would have to sustain the feeling without losing his girl like an idiot. Marriage was likely the thing to steel their attempt at a bond.

Upon waking up to the alarm that morning, Coriolanus knew this was one of those Bad Days. Maybe it was the weather, the stress of Games. First year as head Gamemaker had almost driven Coriolanus mad under the pressure to succeed. He reached over to turn off the clock that buzzed painfully at six in the morning every day ending with a Y.

“Coryo…” [Y/N] mumbled, hearing him stir beside her. The sound must have woken her. She tossed an arm over his chest.

“‘Mornin’, Darling,” Coriolanus replied, wishing he were dead.

[Y/N] immediately picked up on the flatness of his tone, but she knew better than to push him too far. “All good?” She asked.

Coriolanus grumbled passively. He rarely did anything passively. Coriolanus grabbed the hand over his chest and dragged it up to the side of his face to rest it there, but only after he had kissed [Y/N] palm.

“You’re affectionate this morning.”

“I just missed you. I’ve been busy.” He said dismissively, pressing his face further into her hand.

“Well, thanks, dear, but don’t you have work?” [Y/N] asked. She propped her chin up on his shoulder to stare at him inquisitively. This attitude was odd. First thing in the morning during Games seasons, she got a kiss on the forehead and then Coriolanus was gone for a run and a shower and out til nightfall, barring special occasions.

“Don’t you?”

“Not til early evening today. Normally, you’re up and out of here first thing on a Tuesday morning,” [Y/N] told him, as she rubbed from his cheek to the side of his throat gently. She dragged her hand up his face to rest on his worried forehead. “You sick, or something?”

“No.” Coriolanus replied weakly. He closed his eyes again. He couldn’t face the legendary blunder he had made at work. Coriolanus had allowed his aides to code the program for the arena wrong. The open water was nowhere near as deep as was needed for the aquatic muttations. It was causing all sorts of trouble. The Games would end too fast if he didn’t do something, yet the stress of thinking of reaching across the nightstand for his Communicuff was paralyzing.

“You sure? You don’t feel feverish,” She confirmed. [Y/N] sat up to press her lips to his forehead just in case her cold hands had misread his temperature. “I can call the doctor, though.”

“[Y/N], stop. I’m fine.” Coriolanus lied harshly. He tried to sit up, but his psychological anguish made him feel like vomiting.

“Call in. Stay here.” She suggested, watching his weak movement to sit up.

“I’m head Gamemaker, I don’t get to call in. I need to go for a run’n I’ll be fine.”

[Y/N] raised an eyebrow. “So you aren’t currently fine? Because you said—“

“I know what the fuck I said, okay?” Coriolanus barked. “Wanna recap anything else, or can I go?”

Sharply, [Y/N] scooted away from him to the other side of the bed. His moods were hardly predictable. She sighed. “Fine,” She said, averting her eyes to her hands like a scolded girl. “I was merely concerned that you—“

Coriolanus scoffed at her and shakily stood up from the bed. He quickly stepped into the closet and stepped joggers and a wifebeater. [Y/N] hoped he would grab a jacket as well; the weather was much too cold for mid summer. The Capitol itself got disproportionately cold often. She didn’t say anything out loud, though. “Get off my ass. Can’t you sit there and be grateful for once? With all that I do for you?Fucking hell.” Coriolanus said. He did not so much as look back at her as he stormed out of the bedroom.

[Y/N] could not understand what she had done wrong. The only things she had were provided through Coriolanus or simply the man himself. Once Coriolanus was presumed out of earshot, [Y/N] dropped her head into her hands and cried. Not tears of frustration or anger, but tears of self-pity that her one lifeline had yelled at her like that.

—

By the time Coriolanus returned from his run, it appeared his wife had gone out for the day. Strange since she usually capitalized on the extra sleep if she was not working downtown with Capitol News until evening shift. Since their reckless young adulthood of media stunts, Coriolanus had watched [Y/N] grow a stifling love for spectacle. With his support and their shared deranged name recognition, she had quickly risen from an editor, to a correspondent (brief. He had helped her but her way up and out of that position) to Associate Head of Programming for Capitol News. It helped to have his wife steer both their media narratives from the inside.

Except for when she was mad at him.

Coriolanus wiped the sweat off his brow in the shower as he thought. There was no doubt in his mind that [Y/N] was going to run some sort of primetime bulletin that made him look a fool during his Games coverage that night. It was bad enough that Lucky Flickerman was beginning to look like botox had gotten better of him, in addition to Coriolanus’ own fuck up with the muttations. Fact of the matter was that viewership was down and [Y/N] was going to make it worse. She was going to make his Bad Day worse and he knew it.

He could feel his heart rate racing as he stood under the shower’s cold stream. His equally cold blue eyes glanced across the bathroom at the clock. Six-fifty AM. Realistically, he need to be into the Gameroom by no later than eight-thirty, but it frustrated him to be in later than eight. In roughly an hour, how could he perform the maximum amount of damage control? Coriolanus’ head began to ache at the thought.

She had never run that harsh of a piece on him before, but it was a Bad Day, and no doubt she was angry with him for his attitude. [Y/N] was capable of a great many horrible things. Wouldn’t Coriolanus himself want to sting somebody back who he had known was pissy with him?

When he exited the shower, Coriolanus rushed to dress himself. [Y/N] said she wasn’t working until late. But where, then, had she gone? With all the thinking about his own feelings, he hadn’t considered that conundrum.

—

Coriolanus called her secretary, a boring woman with a name neither man nor wife could recall. According to that woman, [Y/N] had not gone early to work. He rang Tigris. Tigris said [Y/N] had not been over unless she was lying which Coriolanus wouldn’t put past her. The Plinths swear they had not encountered her.

Coriolanus stared down at his datapad of phone numbers. He refrained from calling all of their friends because he didn’t want to to exude the panic he was starting to feel for letting his wife run away. None of her belongings seemed out of place. Her suitcase was present in the back of their closet. Still, Coriolanus was terrified in the back of his mind that his wife had finally left him. A year and half was a dreadful lifespan for a marriage in his opinion. [Y/N] was not getting away that easily.

However, his watch told him it was eight and the Games weren’t going to run themselves.

Throughout the day, Coriolanus could not get his heart rate to settle. It made him feel ill. So ill, in fact, that he couldn’t keep down most of breakfast, or all of lunch. He skipped dinner all together. Who was [Y/N] to up and leave him like that?

The slight rational segment of his brain told him to walk it back, but the rest of his brain paid no mind. Coriolanus had nothing going for him other than gut instincts and his gut instincts now were implying something was fundamentally wrong.

Coriolanus’ decision-making was way off of its game at work. Coriolanus, for ratings, could not allow the Hunger Games to end on a Tuesday night. Somehow, he would have to create obstacles to last the four remaining tributes til Friday. He didn’t much like those odds. He was going to cave and hand in his resignation before the end of the day, he was certain.

Though, at eight in the evening, the primetime announcement or chiron that Coriolanus was a shitty husband or a murderer never cut through his broadcast to make his Day irreparably Bad. Nor did it at eight-thirty, or even nine. Coriolanus felt shaky. Maybe with relief for his reputation, maybe because he had nothing in his system.

If nothing had aired at Coriolanus’ expense on TV, had something happened to [Y/N] while he was on his run, or later? Was this some rebel attempt to bring the head Gamemaker to his knees? An attempt from a bitter rival to play games with him? Coriolanus frowned. Many things could have happened to his wife between six in the morning and nine at night. Coriolanus could barely stand up as it was. He clocked out and summoned his driver as quick as he could.

The second Coriolanus’ key entered the lock, he started shouting with the energy he had left. The door had yet to even close behind him. “[Y/N]! [Y/N], my love! Are you here?” Coriolanus pushed open every cabinet and closet on his way to the bedroom. Empty. He checked the closet - her suitcase remained. Coriolanus had called her office on his way home. She had not shown up for work. Unheard of.

Coriolanus ran through every room of the townhouse shouting [Y/N]’s name over and over until he felt hoarse. He could only imagine what the neighbors thought. Then he saw the attic door open.

The door remained open, but the stairs to the attic had snapped back up halfway and gotten jammed. “Coryo!” He heard [Y/N] yell faintly from upstairs.

“Darling, are you… in the attic?” Coriolanus shouted back cautiously under the open door. He watched as [Y/N]’s tearstained face peered around the edges of the attic door. It was really her. Not a Jabberjay, not a setup. Coriolanus exhaled for what felt like the first time all day. “Let me come up. I’ll come to you. Hold on!” Coriolanus’ finally left behind the Bad Day as he leapt into action. Protecting his wife was his job before Gamemaker, or any other obligation. Anyone in the Capitol would remember their vows, or her smashing cake into his face much to his dismay. Marriage was socially his most binding contract of all. Coriolanus did not take contractional obligations lightly.

Coriolanus had not realized that his wife was so delicate and helpless as to get stuck in the attic. She needed him more than he thought. His heart swelled with pride. Coriolanus grabbed a broomstick and hooked the hinge in the stairs. He yanked with all his strength until the ladder descended. Quickly, he dropped a large sack of rice from the kitchen counter over the bottom step in hopes it would weight the stairs down and he took off up them.

“[Y/N], are you alright?” Coriolanus asked, popping his head through the attic door

There on the unfinished attic floor sat [Y/N], bundled up in her thin teddy she had been wearing when Coriolanus left. She had only that and a too-short blanket Tigris had crocheted as a child. There was very little in the attic at all. Some of the Grandma’am’s belongings in clear glass bins and whatever surviving relics had carried on from their post-war childhoods.

It was clear [Y/N] had been crying. “I thought you would come back.” She sniffled.

Coriolanus urgently climbed the rest of the way up the ladder and sat carefully down beside [Y/N], wrapping her in his long arms possessively. “I thought something happened to you,” Also, that you tried to leave me. “You’re freezing… How long have you been up here?”

“Since you went on your run.”

“Shit… All that time?”

[Y/N] thought her tears had long since stopped, but seeing Coriolanus appear upset about ignoring her all day made her want his attention more. She wanted him to feel bad.

The tears started flowing the second his arms were looped around her waist. [Y/N] rested her head on Coriolanus’s shoulder heavily. “Coryo, you just left. I come up here all the time to think and I didn’t think it would—“

The blonde man’s heart softened at the sight of her. “Darling, Darling, shh, don’t cry,” Coriolanus combed his hand through sobbing [Y/N]’s hair. “You’re okay. I’m here now.”

Coriolanus felt like he was able to play the role of comforter and protector nobly tonight in a way he had recently felt inadequate at. With ease, he draped her legs across his lap and adjusted her arms around his neck so that her body was completely supported by his. She clung to him like a desperate child. The skin-to-skin contact was most appreciated by Coriolanus after the Day he’d had. Coriolanus excitedly drew a breathe from her neck, taking in her scent.

[Y/N] sobbed dramatically into Coriolanus’ dress shirt, but he pretended not to care like a good husband. “I’m sorry. I c-couldn’t—couldn’t get down. I th-thought you would come get me. I shout-ted for you,” she played up her tears. [Y/N] played up everything for attention; they both knew that. But the situation was mutually beneficial for people that liked attention so damn much. “You didn’t hear me.” You never hear me.

“Oh, Princess…” Coriolanus rubbed his hands up and down her arms, hoping it would warm her up. He pulled away from her regrettably and stripped off his blazer. He wrapped it around her shoulders and pulled it carefully in front of her. He knew [Y/N] would like the gesture. Now, Coriolanus did not say I’m sorry. It was not his fault that [Y/N] had fled to the attic. He did instead try to make good from now forward. “I was so worried, I started to think something happened to you. I wanted to give you space, but then I didn’t hear from you all day. I’m relieved to know the only monster that got you was the attic,” Coriolanus leaned into her neck to kiss her in his favorite place. “You sat up here in all this junk and dust today; how are you still so stunning?”

[Y/N] laughed through a wet sniffle as Coriolanus searingly kissed her neck. “I didn’t know I’d worried you this much.” She muttered.

“I didn’t know I’d upset you this much,” Coriolanus agreed. That was as close to I’m sorry as she was going to get. “What did you do up here all day?”

“W-Went through some boxes. Found your old uniform.” [Y/N] smiled back.

“My Peacekeeper uniform?” Coriolanus asked in surprise. He hoped that she had not found anything else, if there was anything more scathing up in the attic.

“Mhm,” she affirmed. [Y/N] stood shakily from the floor, snot dripping from her nose. Snot, which she knew better than to wipe on the sleeve of his blazer. She followed where the beams were in the floor nimbly so she didn’t put her foot through the ceiling below her. [Y/N] collected a decently sized metal crate with a handle on it. PRIVATE SNOW, CORIOLANUS B. was stamped on top of the dusty, dented metal. She carried it back to Coriolanus and sat down with it in front of him.

“I didn’t go through everything in here, that felt intrusive, but I did pull this out,” they both knew that was a lie and that she had absolutely gone through every item, but Coriolanus let her keep going without cutting in. [Y/N] decided she would still let him explain the history behind every item he wanted to share anyway.

When she shook the long gray-blue jacket out of the box, something happened that hadn’t happened last time she took the jacket out. “Coriolanus, what’s this?” [Y/N] asked, plucking a bulky chain off the floor that had tumbled from the coat’s breast pocket.

“Ah, I’d forgotten where those went. Dog tags from my time in Twelve.” Coriolanus said.

“I still have my father’s. You were like a real soldier then, huh?”

“Peacekeeper.” Coriolanus corrected.

“Yes, Peacekeeper.” [Y/N] agreed quietly.

[Y/N] held the two identical pendants in her hands.

SNOW, CORIOLANUS

CITADEL, CAPITOL

4147769218S 12

O NEG

CREMATE

His entire identity all on two pieces of nickel. While she squinted at the embossed metal, Coriolanus leaned forward across the box that had once held his entire world and grabbed the chain she was holding as well as her hands. [Y/N]’s red weepy eyes met his crystal clear blue ones. “Would you like them?”

“You don’t want to keep them?”

“Certainly not. My name right there on your chest? That’s preferable to them sitting in a dusty box forever. People will know who you belong to if you wander off like this again. ‘Know you’re not, hm, like… up for finders-keepers.” Coriolanus shifted them out of [Y/N]’s hands and dropped the chain around her neck as if it were the finest gold necklace he had ever purchased her.

Coriolanus put that box up in the attic because he had not wanted to think about it ever again. Above all, though, Coriolanus Snow was an opportunistic man and he put those dog tags on [Y/N] just like he had Lucy Gray because he knew this move was flattering. If it worked once, it would work again. Sickeningly, he pulled out the same words he had used before too: “There. All mine.”

“All yours.” [Y/N] replied.

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow @10ava01 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @lucielsstuff @fairyydvst

as usual, apologies if your tag didn’t work. tumblr’s tough like that. also so sorry if i forgot anyone! remind me if i did!

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #the hunger games

944 notes · View notes

purple-writer8 · 5 months

Text

Suburban Legends - ACOTAR

Azriel x Winter Court Reader

“When you hold me, it holds me together.”

warnings: unrequited love, pining, evil thoughts, intrusive thoughts, lesser fae thinks shes not enough, hating on girl, self doubt, self loathing, reader is a handful, ice powers, groping, lesser fae slander

1.7k words

Part Two to Heather

Masterlist :)

He kissed you. Azriel kissed you. And then you winnowed away, because he kissed you in a way that you knew would screw you up forever. Because Azriel could never love you. You were not soft like Elain, were not some soft baker with beautiful High Fae features.

No. You were just a winterling. A lesser fae that iced everything around her. You paced the House of Wind, paced and paced through the entire manor— scared out of your mind of seeing Azriel again. Why would he kiss you?

Your mind raced and raced and raced.

Azriel deserved someone better than you, he deserved Elain. Not some winterling that got jealous because of a sweater, jealous and you two weren’t even together. Oh, you were so embarrassed— you wanted to die. You got a quick snack in the kitchen, thanking the house for it, and then you rushed up to your room.

Cauldron, you would die of embarrassment if you saw Azriel.

The way that he kissed you, it killed you, because you knew that you were doomed. How were you supposed to live now that you had tasted him? He had kissed you out of pity, you were sure. Or maybe he just didn’t know what to do.

As you ate your chips and dip, you noticed a shadow slithering underneath your door. You ignored it. He probably just wanted to know if you were freaking out or something.

You heard footsteps outside your door and froze when they stopped in front of it. You whispered a curse when your plate with your snack turned to ice, you really had to start controlling your powers.

A knock sounded against the wood of your door, and you wanted to die. You could feel the ice appearing through your body, invading your skin as it did whenever you were in distress— a winterling defense mechanism. You remained silent, unmoving, and after not answering the door for minutes, the shadow and it’s singer left— footsteps disappearing down the hall.

You were tempted to run out of your room and go after him but you were never going to do that. You would die of embarrassment if Azriel simply rejected you, telling you that he only kissed you because he felt bad.

Azriel knocked on your door every night for an entire week, maybe to reject you, or maybe to send you on a mission. You were not sure, but you had barricaded yourself in your room. If you were needed for a mission, Rhysand would reach you, you were sure. Your room had turned into a winter wonderland, your anxiety making your ice powers almost uncontrollable— and frankly unbearable. You were sure you had frost bite by now.

A knock sounded to your door, and instantly you turned to it, watching for the shadow that would always check on you when Azriel came. But no shadow appeared. “Darling? It’s me.”

Surely you could die from embarrassment when you heard the High Lord outside your door. You whimpered when more ice manifested from your fingertips, it fucking hurt and you were sure your fingers could be thawed off your hands any moment now.

Dark majestic talons caressed your mind, and you were tempted to let them in— but instead reinforced the walls that kept Rhysand out, because how fucking embarrassing is it to let your High Lord see how you’ve iced your entire room just because a guy doesn’t want you.

You are supposed to be better than that. But you weren’t.

“Open the door,” the High Lord ordered, and you complied.

His violet eyes widened when he took in the state of your room. “I… What… I… Ice.” Was all he managed to say as he stepped into the room, shivering as the cold hit him.

You smiled awkwardly, unnaturally, “hey.”

“So when Cassian said you turned his room into ice… he meant this?” Rhysand asked and you nodded, awkwardly shifting your weight on your feet. His eyes took in your form and you almost covered your face, but you didn’t. Because the one person who knew all your flaws and ugliness was your High Lord, and he accepted you that way.

It wasn’t a pretty sight when you lost control. As a winterling lesser, the powers that you had were all ice ones. You could wield ice from your fingertips, and when distress happened upon your body— ice bloomed through your flesh, because your blood turned cold. You weren’t good at controlling them; so when anxiety hit you, your veins turned black and you froze everything around you.

Every vein in your body was noticeable, your eyes were white, and you were covered in ice.

Rhysand was probably disgusted by you.

“Azriel says you’ve been cooped up here since game night. Says you won’t open the door for him.” Rhysand stated as he looked around your room, blinking slowly as he took in all of your belongings being frozen.

“For him. But I opened the door for you,” you answered sheepishly.

“He let me know what happened… that night when he went to get you outside… I…” You put your hand up when he said those words.

“I know. I know. He doesn’t like me. I was stupid to complain about a sweater. I mean, my audacity, right?” You laughed dryly. Rhysand frowned, eyeing you— then eyeing your room.

With a snap of his fingers, your room was back to normal. “We’re going out to Rita’s tonight, join us,” Rhysand stated simply, and you were about to decline, but his stern gaze told you that it was a command— not a suggestion.

“I would much rather stay in,” you try anyways. Rhysand shakes his head. “So you could drown in ice and self pity? Get a grip, darling.”

You don’t admit that it hurts. It was not self pity, it was self hate, loathing. You ultimately nod, because you know he is not gonna let you just wallow in your sadness even though it’s all that you want. “Talk to him,” Rhysand said before winnowing away.

You scoffed at nothing. Absolutely not. If he rejected you, which you were sure he would, it would cause you more self hate than you could ever deal with.

You got ready that night in your usual attire. Glittering gowns with diamonds that resembled little snowflakes, reminiscent of your origins. You would look at the clock as you did your hair, and when ten pm rolled around and Azriel did not knock like every other night that week— your whole life was ruined.

At eleven you called for Rhysand in your mind so he could take you down to Rita’s and that he did, though the flight was silent. You were not very fond of him ordering you to hang out when you were miserable.

At Rita’s, you wanted to die.

Azriel was there, sitting silently next to Elain. And instantly your evil mind was hoping she got poisoned by the cocktail she was gently and elegantly sipping.

You truly were unlovable and unlikeable, huh?

You could feel those hazel eyes on you, though no shadows came to greet you. You did not dare meet his gaze because you were sure you would hurl ice all over the floor, so you rushed to find your High Lady and Mor who were chatting by the bar.

They greeted you happily, chatting you up over things you could care less about— because how could you focus when you could see everyone fawning over the shadowsinger in your peripheral vision. He was so magnetic to every fae that it was almost obnoxious.

Feyre started talking about the mating bond with Mor, indulging her in a debate about whether all mates were meant to be. All you could do was fantasize about you and Azriel, mismatched as you may be, surprising the whole court by being mates.

A fae can dream.

A male appeared out of the blue— a handsome male— and he asked you to dance. You indulged him. It was better than standing there pretending to care about Feyre and Mor’s conversation. You loved them, but your mind was elsewhere.

The male danced to the music, swaying along with you, his eyes focused on your white ones. “Shit… I can imagine you sucking my cock with those looking up at me… a perfect lesser fuck,” you gasped at his lewd words because, what the fuck?!

Your heart thudded and you smelled danger, so you gave him an awkward smile and stepped back from him, only for him to snake one strong arm around your waist, tugging you close. “I-Uh, have to go,” you chuckled nervously, looking around for your friends, though the sea of people dancing made it near impossible for you to see their usual booth.

“What does a little lesser like you have to do that is better than being with me?” He asked, leaning down to your ear, an act that sent shivers down your spine. Fear. Which was stupid because you were a spy for the Night Court, you could handle him.

Before you could even snap at him, his hand groped your behind, causing you to gasp and push him away— but in that moment he was stronger, so he tugged you right back to his bulky body. “Who do you think you are?” You scoffed at him, a snarl on your face.

“I’m taking you home tonight, lesser.”

“Over my dead body.” The man stumbled backwards as he looked over your shoulder, to the shadowsinger that had appeared between the crowd. Every fae in the room turned to look at Azriel, at the icy rage that surfaced on his perfect face. He parted the crowd as he stood there, his wings tucked tight as he glared at the High Fae that had been harassing you.

A comforting shadow slinked to you, wrapping around your icy wrist gently. Its gentleness was a stark contrast to the sheer anger it’s master exuded from his being.

“Fuck… I didn’t know… didn’t know she was yours, shadowsinger.”

“Now you know not to fucking touch my mate.”

Part Three

Author’s Note:

this definitely needs a part three i know

General Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @sheblogs

Series Taglist: @illiicits @dee-writes-smut @going-through-shit @saltedcoffeescotch @evergreenlark

296 notes · View notes

buckys-wintersoldier · 2 months

Text

Warming Heart | B.B

Coldness and hate, followed by nightmares — he never chooses to be like that but the people made him to be like that. People made him be the beast but maybe there will be one who can melt the grumpy man’s heart.

//Pairing// Beast!Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

//Wordcount// 4.727 Words

//Warnings// grumpy x sunshine, Bucky being hated, “beast”!Bucky, grumpy!Bucky, hurt/comfort kinda, nightmare, fluff

//Authors Note// I want to thank @holylulusworld for listening to all my ramblings about the idea and helping me with details. Also for proofreading, all mistakes are still mine (so don’t steal them from me!)

// Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist //

Surrounded by darkness and hate — without a chance to make amends because no one even gives him just the smallest of a chance to let him try to be like them or at least explain himself. They hate him like no one else, like he is the worst thing you could be around and that’s the way they would act around him.

So the man decided years ago to hide in his small house in the middle of the forest, he doesn’t care what the people say about him, about his house. At least he doesn’t care anymore, if someone had asked him a few years back he would have tried to explain himself with tears in his eyes and a broken voice.

The man he was and the man he is now is a huge difference because he is different now. It wasn’t him who changed himself, it was the people who changed him into the “beast” he is now.

James Barnes doesn’t mind the coldness and darkness around him, he even appreciates it. He hates everyone who is close to his house and luckily there are rarely people who walk that deep into the forest, especially after they heard the stories about him, about the monster — the winter soldier.

The winter soldier is known as the most dangerous assassin with a metal arm. There are stories of why he lost his arm and now has a metal arm. From ‘he got hurt during a mission’ to ‘he ripped off his arm to make himself more dangerous’. But the truth? No one asks what the truth is, no one cares because they have their own stories, their imaginations about the man.

You’re new to the village, living in a small house at the edge of it. The people living there only look at you with suspicious eyes because you’re different. That’s what you think because you haven’t even introduced yourself to them but they don’t even talk to you.

Maybe it’s your style or the fact that you’re living in a way more modern way than they do. You’re working from home, with your laptop. You have meetings and organize everything for the company you’re working for. Maybe they think you plan to turn their small village into a hotel resort or whatever — but there is one thing you know: the people living in that village are judgeful and need a while to warm up with other people.

Today you decided to go for a walk, you always loved the forests and the one next to the village always smells so good like fir and spruce. So when it wasn’t too warm and most people were busy with their stuff, you sneaked out of the house and through the village into the forest.

The first step you take into it lets you forget about all the annoying and judging people you’re around all day. You inhale deeply, muscles relaxing immediately when the fresh breeze mixed with the smell of the trees hits your face.

You’re not sure why those people don’t like the forest, always mumbling about it, staring into it when it gets dark or when the rain comes — like there's a monster hidden that comes out by night or storms. You mostly laughed about their behavior, shaking your head and asking yourself who is the different one — you or the other village members.

With slow steps and your eyes everywhere at the same time in the forest you walk along the small path. You’re really not sure why none of the others go into the forest, it’s pretty, smells good, and is so quiet that you can only hear the birds and the moving leaves of the trees.

Bucky is out of his house, enjoying the loneliness the forest brings with it. He doesn’t miss the judging people, the intense stare, or the obvious whispers. He is happy when he is as happy as you can be with yourself in a forest. But the brown-haired man isn’t completely alone, he has a golden retriever named Stevie, who is his best friend and always with Bucky.

A low sound leaves the dog when the two of them hear a crack nearby. Bucky narrows his eyes, growling. He doesn’t like people, especially not near to his house. It’s his house, he has to keep it safe and no one is allowed to be close to it or else it wouldn’t be as safe as it used to be.

The man places his metal hand at the back of his dog's collar, holding him back as they slowly make their way through the forest to find out where the cracking comes from. And as they surround a tree not far away from their house a squirrel is running through the leaves on the ground and up a tree.

Bucky exhales deeply, he loves the animals in the forest, they are afraid of him but they don’t judge him, they don’t get into his house and they don’t talk to him. That kind of neighbor is his favorite.

A low growl echoes through the forest, the dark suddenly darker than before, and suddenly the rain is pouring down, wetting the big man completely in no time. With an annoyed huff, he leads Steve back to their shared house, he should have paid more attention to the dark clouds in the sky but he was too deep in his thoughts, in his own doing, and then too busy with the squirrel to notice before it started to rain.

He lets Steve off his hand and turns on the fire in the fireplace to let his dog dry in front of it while Bucky himself takes a shower and changes into dry and more comfortable clothes. Bucky likes rain, at least when it doesn’t pour down on him, but when the drops roll down his windows, the steady sound of them falling against the window and the quiet crackling sound of the fire is the only sound that echoes through his house.

The rain surprises you just as much as it surprised Bucky, but instead of him, your house is around half an hour's walk away from you. Your clothes are soaked and you start to freeze with every following blow of the wind through the forest. Arms already wrapped around yourself you walk further into the forest, hoping for a small hut or something. Little do you know that you’re going to find a house just a few more minutes walk away from you.

Thunder and lightning join the rain when you see a small house in the distance. You smile to yourself as you notice it, it looks dark but at least it could help you to warm up a bit maybe.

The front door is locked, so you look around, maybe there is a window you can climb through to get into the house? Or you have to throw something into it to get in there, whatever option you choose it has to be fast because you aren’t feeling your fingers or toes anymore. After walking a bit more around the house you find a door that looks similar to the front door just at the back which leads into a small garden. The garden is surprisingly clean for a house that looks so empty but you’re too deep in your thoughts to notice that.

You stomp through the dust, your shoes and legs completely one with the dirt, and a few leaves stuck to your shoes as well. When you try to open the door that leads into the house you’re successful. You easily slip into the floor of the house, closing the door behind you and sighing deeply.

As you trim around your eyes wander through a kitchen, someone is living in that house, it’s all cleaned and you wonder who could live there. Maybe a nice or mean witch? You have seen a lot of movies with them, sometimes they are nice so you hope that whichever witch's house that is, is one of the nice ones.

Since the house is perfectly clean and someone obviously lives here, you don’t want to disturb them further with all the dirt under your shoes, so you take them off and leave them at the door when you walk through the kitchen.

“H-hello, someone at home? I-uhm- I was out for a walk and it started raining, I’m sorry for just coming in but it is freezing outside,” you say, ignoring the fact that you could talk to yourself in case there is no one at home right now.

It’s still cold, your wet clothes cling to your skin and you shiver lightly. There is no noise except the noise of the wetness falling from your clothes and the steady sound of rain against the windows. It’s almost completely dark but you can still see everything around you.

For a moment you feel like someone is staring at you, like there are a pair of blue eyes in the darkness but as you blink it’s suddenly away and you shake your head. A soft warm yellow is visible underneath a door that leads from the floor into another room, maybe someone is there? Or at least something you can warm yourself up with?

Slowly with almost quiet steps, you walk through the dark floor, there is still that feeling of someone behind you, a pair of eyes that watches you carefully but whenever you turn around there is no one. You’re brave but it still scares you a bit, no one would go into another person's house but it’s an exception, isn’t it?

As you open the door where the light is visible you smile softly, there is a fireplace with a couch in front of it and you immediately move into it, closing the door — not completely because it’s too heavy. Whoever lives here has to be strong and big because everything looks just so big.

A low growl comes from behind the door once you sit on the floor in front of the fireplace, warming your hands. Your head shoots to the side, the door is now completely open again, and in the doorframe is a broad man, almost as thick as the doorframe itself.

“What are you doing here, girl?” He asks, staring at you. His eyes are ocean blue and he frowns, his teeth gritted and jaw clenched. Your eyes wander lower to his broad chest and widen slightly the moment you notice the glistening metal arm he has. But he is still handsome.

“I-uhm it rains really bad outside and uhm— the thunderstorm probably gets worse so I thought I—“ he interrupts you with a snarl. Shaking his head, he growls once again.

“And you think you could come into MY house,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes. The wind blows through the floor and he notices the way your body starts trembling because of the cold. He takes a step inside the room, ready to close the door as a dog runs into the room and directly toward you.

Before you get the chance to answer him the golden retriever jumps on top of you, causing you to fall backwardand land on the floor. The dog immediately licks all over your face, causing you to giggle in the softest way Bucky has ever heard.

He doesn’t know why but the sound of your giggles warm his inside a bit, his heart flutters and there is almost a soft smile across his lips but he gets his facade back before the smile breaks through it, closing the door. He then faces you once more, snapping at his dog who whines before moving away and taking a seat next to you.

Bucky still doesn’t trust you and you have to be out of his house as far as possible. His eyes roam over you, through the room, and to the window. The forest is covered in a deep dark, he can’t even see the trees that are close to the house and he knows he can’t send you out like that, especially not with the thunderstorm and even less with your still dripping clothes.

“Stay there,” he says, his voice rough and dark. Bucky stomps through the living room, looking through a drawer to fish out a towel with a pair of pants and a thick hoodie of his. With that he walks closer to you again, placing them on the couch behind you before taking a step backward. “Second door, right side. Take a shower, can’t make you ill because of your wet clothes.”

You nod, smiling softly at him. Even though he looks at you with narrowed eyes and a grumpy expression you smile at him all the time, trying to lighten up his mood with yours.

“Thank you, I’m y/n!” You say, getting off the floor and grabbing the clothes with the towel to take a warm shower. The golden retriever gets up with you as well, his tail swinging from one side to the other as he follows you through the door.

“Bucky.” The man grumbles, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He takes a seat on the couch, his eyes always following you. “Stevie, sit! And no sneaking around!”

You nod, giggling about his still harsh tone, and then you make your way to the bathroom to take a warm shower. Before you’re ready to change into his comfortable clothes.

Meanwhile, Bucky growls a bit more under his breath. His thick, long fingers scratch over Steve’s head and his ears, causing the dog to snuggle into Bucky. The big man smirks softly, just a tiny bit when he sees his dog so happy and comfortable.

“Do ya like her, you do, don’t you?” He asks his dog, not wanting an answer, Bucky just likes talking to his dog. He is his friend, his own company so he is used to talking to him about everything. “You’re also just a boy, getting weak when it comes to women.”

Steve snuggles more against Bucky, his long tongue gliding over the man’s hand until he has to wipe it on his pants to dry it. “Yeah, good boy. You need to protect us, don’t be weak when a woman walks into our home, Stevie.”

After returning to the living room Bucky offered you warm tea, he doesn’t want you to get sick because of the cold. It would be his fault — and as much as he hates people he doesn’t want you to feel bad. So he makes tea for the two of you, looking for some snacks he can offer as well and some for Steve.

Bucky feels slightly betrayed by his best friend as he walks back into the living room. Steve is cuddled up into you, his head resting on your lap while you sit wrapped into a warm blanket on the couch. Your fingers slide through the golden retriever's fur, causing him to relax.

“Looks like he likes you… he usually doesn’t like other people,” Bucky's deep voice comes from behind you. You shiver lightly the moment the rough sound of his voice echoes through the room.

“He’s like you, isn’t he?” You ask with the softest smile tugging at your lips. Your cheeks are slightly pink when you turn to face Bucky, who places the snacks next to you on the couch and hands you a cup of tea.

Bucky takes a seat next to you, growling and you notice that he likes to growl about everything. He then nods, sipping at his cup and staring into the fire in the fireplace.

The silence makes you nervous and there are a few — a lot of — questions you want to get off your chest. You clear your throat, getting his attention but he still doesn’t look at you. You actually have his attention the whole time, Bucky is looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Why are you living here in the forest so far away from the village?” You ask, turning your head while playing with your hands in your lap. You twirl Steve’s fur around your digits before letting them go. Bucky doesn’t answer, only turning his hands into fists, gripping the fabric of his pants tightly.

The knuckles of his flesh hand turn already white and you shift in your seat. “I- uhm, sorry. I understand that the people there can be really— they are you know, need a long time to get used to other people,” you mumble, being grateful when Steve gets off your lap and walks through the room, picking a toy of his up to bring it to you.

You giggle sweetly, grasping one side while the dog holds the other side between his teeth. He pulls on it, trying to get it out of your hand but your grip is too strong so you hold it tightly. Soft chuckles and giggles leave your lips now and then, you praise the dog for being such an adorable dog, that he is a good boy.

Even Bucky has to try his best to not let a soft chuckle slip past his lips. The corners of his mouth twitch but he manages to not smile completely, just a tiny bit, hoping you don’t notice.

The moment he smirks, Steve turns and stands in front of the taller man, casting your eyes on Bucky and you see the smile tugging at his lips. It makes your heart flutter, Bucky’s blue eyes light up, and his nose scrunches.

Bucky doesn’t talk much to you all evening, only to ask you if you want more tea or some snacks. He tells you to sleep on the couch, offering you some more blankets and a pillow, bringing it to you. Steve stays with you in the living room which makes Bucky grumble as he walks into his bedroom.

He hasn’t slept without his dog in a long time, actually never since he adopted Steve. But now his best friend prefers the girl that stays at their house. With a grumpy expression, Bucky gets into his bed, curls himself tight into his blanket, and grasps a pillow to hold on to something in his sleep while Steve has his place for the night next to you on the couch.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, you’re warmed by the dog and the massive blankets. And you couldn’t feel saver, of course, Bucky hasn’t talked much about himself and was grumpy most of the time but you have seen his soft smile when you giggled.

Your sleep is interrupted by a scream, followed by another loud noise that echoes through the house. You immediately sit on the couch, looking at the dog who is still cuddled up next to you, only his head is up to look at you with his big eyes.

Another sound comes from the floor or somewhere in the house, it sounds like someone slams against a wall or the floor. You shiver, it’s only Bucky who is next to you and Steve in the house and Steve is next to you, so it can only be Bucky or a monster?

You notice a groan that sounds pretty much like Bucky but it sounds slightly different to the growls he answers you with all day. This one right now sounds like he is hurt, but why could he be hurt? Maybe he fell out of the bed?

“Get up, Stevie, let’s find out what’s going on in your dad's room, yeah?” You ask, and even though you’re not sure if the golden retriever understands you, he gets up, waiting in front of the couch for you to get up as well.

With the blanket wrapped around you and Steve walking next to you slowly, and quietly through the room, to the floor until you reach Bucky’s bedroom. Behind the closed door, you can hear muffled screams, heavy moans which could also be groans, and now and then a punch against either the bed or the wall.

You open the door, finding Bucky still in his bed but his blanket is wrapped around his legs and arms. The brown-haired man looks like he is trying to fight against the fabric like it’s someone who holds him, and whatever he tries he can’t get out of their grip.

With another step into the room and Steve whimpering next to you, you notice the sweat running down Bucky’s face. The sheets underneath him almost wrapped around him instead of the mattress. Bucky’s metal arm is glistening in the light shine of the moon when he lifts it and throws it against the wall behind his bed.

“Bucky? Hey, Bucky, wake up, you’re oke?” You ask, doubting that he is going to wake up when you talk to him. He growls once again, punching around him before he moans painfully and stays still for a brief moment. “Bucky?”

When he lies there, moving less than before you sit down next to him, hoping you won’t scare him. You place your hand on his flesh arm, stroking your thumb over his sweaty skin. He immediately relaxes a bit, still trying to get out of the grip of the blanket but less than before.

“Bucky, it’s oke. You’re having a nightmare, no one’s gonna hurt you. Stevie’s here too,” you say, patting the place next to you on the bed and the dog jumps onto it, leaning over Bucky to lick across his face, waking the big man up as soon as Steve’s wet tongue touches Bucky’s skin.

“Stevie,” Bucky breathes out heavily, his eyes shooting open as he notices the touch on his arm. Wide, blue eyes staring at you, there is nothing left of the cold gaze he had when you walked into his house earlier. His eyes only show terror, his whole expression shows you that, even though he isn’t dreaming anymore. “F—“

“It’s oke, s-sorry, I didn’t want to scare you,” you mumble and this time his eyes widen in surprise. You’re scared that you scared him? He is the one who is punching around himself, who is like a wild beast haunted by his nightmares. But you, you don’t want to scare him?

“I-uhm you scare me? I’m the one who scares everyone,” the man mumbles, sitting up and resting against the headboard of his bed with his back. “Why aren’t you scared?”

You giggle, earning a soft smile from Bucky as well. You’re really adorable, giggling all day like nothing could ever hurt you and you’re the first one in ages who isn’t afraid of him, who doesn’t mind his presence and even helps him.

“Why should I? Because you’re a grumpy man, ohhh, you’re way nicer even as the grump you are than the people in the village,” you smirk, turning a bit to face him better, your fingers sliding up and down his arm. You then let them glide to his legs, helping him to free his legs from the blanket. “The blanket isn’t your enemy, it’s your friend, you know?”

He chuckles, nodding his head. Bucky runs his fingers over his face, through his hair before he sighs deeply. “I know, but the stories they tell about me, exist because parts of them are true but no one knows the story behind it, and while I dream my blanket turns into my worst enemy when it’s wrapped tightly around me. When Steve is here it’s better, but this boy prefers girls when he gets to see one.”

“Stories? I never heard about a Bucky in a story, are you famous?”

“Not in a good way, but kind of. Have you ever heard about the winter soldier?” Bucky asks, shivering when the name slips past his lips. You nod, you have heard of him, once but you thought it was just a scary story to stop the kids from running into the forest. “It was— the winter soldier, it was me. That’s why they hate me in the village, why they are scared of me.”

Your mouth drops open as you nod. The metal arm, the soldier was described with one. But Bucky is everything but scary, maybe a bit grumpy — which doesn’t surprise you when one is living all by himself.

“Do you want me to go back into the living room? I mean I can also stay here if you want. But Steve will be there now so,” you ask, drawing circles on Bucky’s thighs. He follows your fingers, his expression softens and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. You’re really not scared of him, not even now when you know about him as the winter soldier.

“I- uhm would you- I mean, I would love it if you would stay here, I- I can change the sheets because they are sweaty,” he mumbles.

“How about you give me the sheets and I will change them while you take a shower,” you suggest, Bucky nods.

The two — three — of you are cuddled up in the bed around forty minutes later. Bucky has his arm wrapped around your shoulder, caressing the skin while your head is placed on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

“I understand that you don’t want to be in the village if you can be here — it’s quieter, more natural, and beautiful — but you know, you’re not him anymore. You’re Bucky and not the person they think you are,” you mumble into his chest.

He sighs, nodding. He knows that but you’re the only person next to him who thinks like that. At least he thinks that sometimes about himself, as long as no one is looking at him with a judging gaze.

“I try to believe it,” he says, sliding his fingers further to your hair, twirling them around his fingers. He had told you about him as the Winter Soldier and the things he did when they brainwashed and forced him to work for them. “But it helps that Steve loves me and that you stumbled into my house.”

You giggle, pulling the blanket over the two of you, and nuzzle more into Bucky. Steve is cuddled up between your and Bucky’s legs, already snoring quietly.

“I’m also glad I stumbled into your house, grumpy boy,” you smirk, looking up at him. His eyes light up and he smiles, and he looks adorable when he smiles, especially the slight scrunch of his nose.

“I guess I want to keep you here forever, and Stevie would help me, I’m sure,” Bucky chuckles, leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

“I wouldn’t mind staying here with you. I’m so proud of you, you have built your own house with everything, and you’re so much stronger than you think. I would love to spend the rest of my life with you to make sure you know you can be and will be loved — by me.”

No one has told him that they are proud of him or love him in ages, but when you say it — it sounds just perfect. The two of you know that those words have a deep meaning and that it’s more like a promise than a joke. Who knew the ice around the man’s heart could melt with the help of you when you stumble not just into his house but also into his small world and light up the darkness? You’re his everything and he will make sure you have everything you need with him, who needs judging people in the village when you have one another — plus Bucky has now two loves who take care that his blanket doesn’t wrap around him and keep him in bed — because that’s your task from now on, or Bucky’s so he has an excuse for whatever he planned to do the day that includes work.

With you, he found everything he was ever asking for, someone who loves him for the person he is, someone who isn’t afraid of him. But he never thought you would like his metal arm and help him love himself as the one he is.

//Taglist// @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @somnorvos @meowmeowyoongles @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @loki-laufeyson68 @winterschildren8 @bxtchboy69 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes @sasha-writing @blackhawkfanatic @fanfictionreaderfan @multiversefanfics @angelbabyyy99 @looking1016 @aphrodite-xoxo @im-alestan @lives-in-midgard

235 notes · View notes

blackwolfstabs · 9 months

Text

Parker's Secret Santa Gifts🎄for @alkivm

ONE NORMAL NIGHT

In the heart of winter and in the dead of night, you and Wednesday share the woods.

fandom: Wednesday (2022) pairing: Wedesnday Addams × Fem!Vampire!Reader a/n: this is my 1st × reader ever so i'm feeling very insecure about it.. however, i wanted to do something up your alley, Alk. i also wanted to write from Wednesday because i knew writing something of Sam would be too predictable of me haha. anyways, i hope you enjoy!!

You slid into the partially dark dorm room that held your girlfriend’s strong scent. For someone as dark and mysterious as Wednesday, you never expected her to have a smell that was actually calming. However, this made it easier for you to find her. Being a vampire allowed you the same nose the werewolves had. Maybe even better, in your opinion…

Speaking of werewolves, Enid’s side of the room was the dark side, for once. She must’ve been out with her girl pack. This led you to immediately find Wednesday seated at her desk with a lit lamp as the clicking of the typewriter keys echoed off the walls. Her writing time, you presumed with a small smirk and shake of your head. It was part of her nightly routine.

But you were looking for a night where they could just be with each other. It had snowed all day, but with the dark that you both adored, came clear skies and moonlight that made the snow sparkle. Wednesday, of course, didn’t care for sparkly things, but you hadn’t seen anything more vintage in decades. And you wanted to share that with her.

You wanted one normal night.

She never stopped typing, her black eyes undivided, but there was something about the way her shoulders braced that told you that she knew you were there. So, you approached her, but before you could speak, she did.

“What is it, Y/N?” she asked flatly. “You know this is my—”

“Yes, yes, I know. This is your writing time,” you cut her off as you stopped behind her chair and leaned against it. “I was thinking… maybe we could take a walk through the woods? We’ve been shut indoors all day because of the snowfall, and the moon is rather beautiful tonight.” You heard her give a short huff, which encouraged you to follow up with, “Almost as beautiful as you…”

Wednesday scoffed as she felt you lean down and kiss her cheek. You had just been outside, on your way over, so your lips were cold against her warm skin. It made her pull away slightly, “Oh, please, your pick-up lines are aging on me.” But even she had her own jokes to turn around on you, and she glanced up to tease, “Almost as much as you.”

To be fair, you did not see that coming as you looked away in mock offense. “You've been waiting to spring that one on me, haven’t you?”

She shrugged and went back to her writing, “Not really. You just fell into the trap.”

“Sly psychic,” you rolled your eyes.

“Dumb vampire.”

God, the way she just threw back words in any situation that made her charisma grow had your vampire instincts tingling. It made you frisky and longing for a hunt. However, if Wednesday followed your lead, you could take the thirst just to have one night with her. “Please?” you hated to beg, yet here you were doing it for her. “Can’t you spare one day of cutting your writing time short?”

Your borderline-desperate tone made her give a small smirk, and that gave you a little bit of hope. You had other plans for that night anyway, so you would make sure she’d show her side of the duality you had gotten the pleasure to know.

“Let me finish this paragraph,” she eventually gave in.

You let her do so without trouble, pacing around the room like a caged tiger while you waited. And then she stood up from her chair and turned around to catch you looking at her.

“You’ve got the patience of a saint.” The sarcasm was thick in her flat tone.

You just shrugged and nodded to the tunic-length jacket that was lying on her bed, “That should be warm enough for you.”

The raven gave you an uncertain look as she went to retrieve it and slip it on. “Sometimes, I think you forget that I’m not a vampire,” she commented, clearly not convinced one jacket would keep her warm in the snowy wilderness.

“Never,” you assured her. When she turned around and approached you with her dark eyes trying to figure out the million thoughts behind your glowing ones, you gave her a wink. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll keep you warm.”

She didn’t look convinced. “I’m thrilled.” Then again, she never did.

You never took that personally from her. After all, she was the one to insinuate a relationship that was more than friends. She had even stolen the first kiss between you two. As uninterested as she tried to seem, you knew she was curious about what you had in mind. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have followed you out.

The bitter cold of the winter night suited you just fine as you stepped out of the heated indoors and shook your head out to relish the chilly freedom. You sighed in delight, before looking over your shoulder to see Wednesday pacing up next to you.

She blinked unsteadily, the breeze stinging her eyes and cheeks as her bangs were swept aside. She crossed her arms and hugged them against her chest. “It had to be tonight?”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh, come on, Wednesday, it’s not that bad!” You gave her a playful nudge. “You just need to get that warm blood pumping,” you then teased, your breed leaving you immune to the freeze.

She just growled in annoyance, which made you decide to take the first step—well, more like the second step now… “So, try and keep up,” you told her, then raced away into the woods.

It must have caught her off-guard, because she immediately followed hot in pursuit. “Y/N!” It was like she hadn’t even thought about the fact that she was rushing into a game of Tag, like it was a mindless effort that sent her after you.

Her calls made you run faster, weaving through the trees like a trained dog in agility, and you let out a triumphant howl that sent the crows scattering into the night sky. In return, you actually got a few calls back from the werewolves scouting the forest as well. “Hey, Wednesday!” you hollered over your shoulder, “you think one of those is your roommate?!”

You could hear your girlfriend’s panting grow louder as she flanked you a few yards back. “No!” she answered, “Enid wouldn’t be caught dead in this kind of cold!”

“But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?!” Being an Addams gave you so much freedom to joke about death, considering you were already dead inside. It was meant to be.

“Not tonight, Y/N!”

You just laughed and raced on, filing deeper and farther into the world of forestry that almost shielded the moonlight. The wind seemed to be going 100 miles per hour against your skin, making a million scents bathe your tongue every time you breathed in.

And then the scent of fur and fresh-kill caught your senses. You were gaining too close to the werewolves, so you figured this was a good place to stop.

Wednesday, on the other hand, didn’t have as keen a sense of smell, which kept her racing on. She couldn’t see you anymore, but she had done that dance before. The amount of times she’d run through this very forest was unimaginable, especially with a destination known or unknown in mind. She wasn’t afraid of running through the dark; however, the crisp cold air was taking a toll on her lungs. She called out for you, slowing down to catch her breath. “Y/N?!”

Compared to the way she’d sounded a few minutes ago, back at the dorm, she wasn’t so uptight about everything. And that was where you wanted her.

The raven slowed all the way, when she didn’t receive a response from you. She glanced around as she trotted forward. “Y/N?” Her panting was silenced among the breeze and so was your movement in the low branch of the nearest tree.

When she passed it, you grabbed her arm and pulled it towards the trunk. She yelped and spun around, yanking her arm away to look up and meet your golden eyes. “Sorry,” you giggled, releasing her to comb your wind-tossed hair back with one hand.

Her voice went back to its natural, monotoned-self. “Why are you in a tree?”

“We’re too close to the werewolves,” you nearly whispered the explanation. Then, you held your hand out to her. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”

The gold shimmer in your eyes struck the lightest reflection in hers as she took it and let you pull half of her weight up onto the same branch.

You knew she wasn’t the most comfortable person with heights without being guarded by some sort of railing, so you made sure she was steady before you continued to lead the way up. Being a vampire, your agility and strength were reliable. You could weave quicker through the limbs. And once you reached almost ¾-ths of the way up, you crouched to check on your girlfriend.

Despite her size and normal human strength, she actually kept up well, only being a few branches below. However, being the lady vampire you were, you had lived for a few centuries. So, chivalry was definitely not dead in your era, just evolved out of the strictly-male ideals. “Wednesday!” She paused her climbing to glance up at you, which made you hold your hand out to her again. “I got you.” The cold must have been biting at her because she grabbed your hand with no hesitation, and you lifted her up, wrapping one arm around her waist to safely bring her to your level.

She wouldn’t admit it, but the raven was relieved that you had the decency to allow her to be closest to the tree trunk. She glanced down, almost nervously, but left it undetectable as she asked, “Is there any reason why you insist on being so high up?”

“No one can see us from up here.”

She shifted skeptically.

“I thought you liked being uncomfortable,” you smirked. You caught the way she curved her fingers into the bark, threatening to clutch it if the branch that held them teased a crack or two.

Wednesday gave a slightly flustered sigh. “The last time I was in a tree, things didn’t go so well.” When she looked your way again, the moon light dappling through the trees made her eyes show a shade of brown that wasn’t common in her natural aesthetic.

It took some of the frost away from the cold that you didn’t realize you could feel until that deep gaze met yours. Her frame looked even smaller as she backed up to secure herself against the trunk, which you knew she did to brace herself in case anything happened. You softened your voice as you moved closer to her. “I won’t let you fall,” the words came so naturally, it was almost considered pure.

She blinked at you. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Y/N…”

You stopped a short distance from her, close enough to see what she hoped you wouldn’t: her desire for comfort. You slid one hand around her waist and the other over her cheek to block the winter breeze. “Here’s my promise,” you whispered, then pulled her into a gentle kiss.

To your surprise, she fell into it instantly, almost as if she was thinking of the same thing. She must have felt secure in your arms, for she then put her arms around your torso. And through the kiss, you smiled.

She pulled away. “Is that all you got?” she tested you, looking away and over your shoulder to bait you into moving elsewhere than her lips.

You took in a deep breath, and her scent was so strong that you could almost taste her… You felt your golden gaze start to burn and your mouth start to salivate. There was a surge of power that entwined your bloodstream, and the thrill to drink made you stare at her open neck. Well… almost open. “Are you teasing me, Ms. Addams?” you asked her as you dipped your head towards the crook of her neck and nosed her braid over her shoulder, fully exposing her warm skin.

“Bite me, Y/LN,” she almost purred into your ear. It was supposed to be a tease, but it came out more as a command.

But it was your pleasure, regardless. “Not until we’re in bed, my cold-hearted darling,” you replied, then pressed your lips to her neck. It was hard not to bite her right now. Just a little taste of that sweet drink that came out of the most savage student in Nevermore Academy would have sufficed. But you wouldn’t. Not now. For now, you forced yourself to only kiss and suckle her skin in a slow trail down her neck, but you did manage to let your fangs nip her every now and then.

All the while, Wednesday laid her head on your shoulder, sighing through the treatment with small moans, while her black nails curled into your spine when your fangs would catch her soft skin.

It was the perfect mix of Heaven and Hell.

It was angelic and demonic.

It was sweet and stubborn.

It was you and Wednesday…

On this one normal night.

merry christmas/happy holidays alk! i hope this made you smile and i'm wishing you a very pleasureable rest of the season. thank you for being such a supportive friend 🎄✨🎁

- parker (BWS)

661 notes · View notes

oikasugayama · 8 months

Note

Hi can I request a chart on bsd boys with a super shy s/o ☺️

of courseeeee <3 i was horribly shy as a child and still am to some extent, so some of these assumptions are based on my own experience!

Though he likes your shyness, he sometimes finds it annoying

Akutagawa (likes that you keep to yourself in public so enemies tend to overlook you, but he doesn't like having conversations on your behalf because you're too shy to make a phone call), Fyodor (likes that you're quiet and keep to yourself when other people are around, but doesn't like when you get shy toward him), Jouno (likes that you don't approach people or start conversations, but hates when he has to guess what you want because you won't just say it).

He likes that you're shy and finds it very cute when you need him to help you with social things.

Nikolai (you cling to him in public; sometimes he likes to disappear and watch from afar as you panic and search for him because the look of joy and relief when you finally spot him goes straight to his heart), Ango (feels like you're safe from harm because you keep to yourself and let him run a lot of errands for you; he loves feeling needed by you), Sigma (is surrounded by bold people, so you're a breath of fresh air being fairly quiet and calm; he'd do anything for you at the drop of a hat and doesn't even realize you need the help because you're shy), Junichiro (is also fairly timid, so he likes having a quiet, introverted relationship with you; you spend a lot of time at home playing games and cuddling; he can overrule his own anxiety to do things for you), Bram (is endeared that you're quiet and shy when others are around; he hates when people consider you his trophy wife or ask if he has you under a spell; he'll get in fights with people over this), Poe is the only person you've ever met who's as shy as you are; he hides in public, he trembles when he has to ask for something; only you and Ranpo know how fun and silly he actually is, and only they know the same about you), Mori (adores your timidness and enjoys controlling you as much as you'll let him; it's not necessarily toxic but it can certainly get there...), Oda (considers you as beautiful as the cherry blossoms in the spring after a dark, cold winter; he'd do anything for you, no questions asked), Chuuya (enjoys protecting you, helping you, cheering you up; he does wish you could have a bit more confidence because he wants everyone to know how radiant you are, but he's content keeping your shine to himself).

He generally finds it cute when you get shy, but wants to help you be more confident.

Fukuzawa (understands that it can be scary to talk to people, so he never pushes you and while he happily does things for you, he also gradually coaches you into being more confident), Dazai (selfishly loves that you cling to him in public and need him to do things like order at restaurants on your behalf; he just wishes you knew how much power you have and thinks it'd be hot if you acted really confidently sometimes), Tachihara (feels so important when he gets to help you, but sometimes he wishes he had a bold, dynamic partner who would go out with him and do all the crazy things he wants to do without shying away), Atsushi (finds you very cute and is happy to do things that you're too shy to do, but he recognizes his own lack of confidence in you and wants you to blossom the way he did), Tetcho (thinks that you're sweet if not a bit naive and wants to make you happy; he also thinks you'd be happier if you didn't need to rely on him so much).

He gets annoyed when you're "overly shy" and wants you to be more confident.

Ranpo (doesn't understand why you can't just say what you want to say and do what you want to do; has no concept of anxiety and is not helpful), Kunikida (gets frustrated when your shyness messes up his scheduled plans; he wants you to be more confident for your benefit but also his), Fukuchi (tells you he doesn't want a partner he has to take care of, and tells you to get used to doing things on your own), Mushitaro (is very independent and wants a partner who is equally so; he gets annoyed when you need help or cling to him in public and constantly tries to make you more independent). (Bonus discussion on the longevity of these four relationships.)

418 notes · View notes

fineprintedsunsets · 9 months

Text

Кролик; Bunny

ೃ⁀➷ It's the dreaded time of month and all you want to do is curl up in bed. Your soldat has other plans. ೃ⁀➷ p in v sex. dirty talk. soldat!bucky. mentions of blood. period sex. (soldat not giving a fuck). breeding kink. mentions of pads/pain. fingering. possible typos. ೃ⁀➷ 1.2k

i hate my period so much, writing about this brute helps me cope🧸

seb masterlist

Oh no. No. No. Not today. Not now.

Fuck, You hate mother nature.

The sheets of your bed are stained a red hue. Little spots and specks paint the white fabric and your thighs are sticky with blood.

Your fucking period. If you had enough energy you could just slam a fist into the wall, broken bones be damned.

You whimpered and whined all the way to the shower, stomach aching, legs weak. You made sure to tear off the sheets and add them to the heaping pile of laundry in your room.

As soon as you stripped yourself of your clothes and felt the steaming water hit your skin, all was forgiven. The sound of water hitting the cheap chipped tile was so relaxing you would give everything you had to be in this state forever.

Unfortunately, a girl has a water bill.

ღ

You changed your clothes, put on low-cut shorts, and bought a shit ton of pads. It was only the first day and your flow was already heavy.

The cramps were bearable, but you could tell they were going to get a whole lot worse. Which led to your current state, in bed, lights turned off, head against a cold pillow, and blinds drawn.

An unbreakable fortress of cold pillows and snakes you managed to hoard in anticipation for this day's arrival.

You couldn’t turn on the tv, the light was harsh and irritating. So you just sat in darkness, eating Resses and groaning in pain.

Your only thought was “when would he arrive"?

ღ

“Кролик” (Bunny) a heavy voice woke you from your sleep. A familiar musk of gunpowder and him filled your head.

“You're bleeding.” He says from the shadows. You find your fingers gripping your blankets in both anticipation and fear. Your breath hitches.

He smells it, smells you.

“You need to be bred.”

Fuck.

The Winter Soldier, soldat, in his six-foot-tall frame, rounds the side of your bed. The harsh fabric of his suit, made to withstand all kinds of obstacles was now in front of your vision.

The soldat didn’t bother to take his combat boots off before sliding into bed with you. He kneeled on the mattress, denting it.

You waited in anticipation, legs slightly parted, breath coming in slow gasps as heat filled your entire body.

“Remove your shorts. Or is it too painful?” In a way, he’s mocking you, a way of saying you will always need his help. If you weren’t drunk off him right now, you’d recoil. Sober you would not have heat pooling in her core right now.

“Hurts- Soldat. Please take them off.” You wiggled your hips to emphasize. The soldats mask covers his face, muffling the groan he made when sliding the fabric off your legs.

Your body jolted when cold metal fingers met your clothed core. You tried your best to hold in the moan you held in your throat.

“Shh…quiet, кролик” You know there’s blood on your panties, you know the soldat does too.

Except, he doesn't seem to give a shit. His fingers prod at your entrance before removing your panties entirely, along with the pad stuck to them.

The soldat looks at your cunt, the mask hiding any real facial expression. You shiver from the cold air hitting your exposed folds.

He takes two metal fingers and slides them through your folds, gathering both blood and slick. The soldat purrs as you whine. “Relax -Going to hurt, stay still.”

You do as you are told, unable to stop the soldat as he places a flesh hand against your stomach, while two metal digits slide into your cunt.

"Beautiful, sweetheart.” The Soldat hums, pushing down just a little on your tummy as the digits slowly slide in and out of you. The pain eases at whatever he’s doing to you, and pleasure becomes more prominent.

You can hear the sound of your slick as he fingers you, your back arching off the bed as he picks up the pace, adding more pressure to your stomach. “Good, кролик. Right there.”

“Doing so well for your soldat. -think you can cum for him? Hmm?”

Fuck. The edge is so fucking close and your itching to barrel over it. The soldier can feel your cunt squeezing his fingers and can see the look in your eyes as you're about to come.

His metal digits speed up, going at a pace that is sure to push you over the edge. He releases his flesh hand from your stomach to pinch your aching clit.

It’s over from there. “Soldat! Soldat- fuck ” you cry out, heart pumping and legs shaking as he works you through it, pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“So good for your soldat. Look so pretty when you come for him, so beautiful.” The soldat slides his fingers out of you, wiping your juices on his pant leg.

The soldier undoes his belt buckle, sliding off the weapon-studded pants and throwing them into the darkness of the bedroom. His cock is throbbing, angry, and red.

“Ready to be bred, Кролик? Take all you're given?” His boxers are next, his metal hand wraps around the waistband. The fabric is torn from his body in one snap.

Your legs shake and your hips squirm as he lines his cock up with your entrance, his body crowding over you, balancing himself with a hand on the headboard. “You're so wet. I bet I’d just…”

His cock nudges your fold, “-Slide right in.” The pain hits you immediately as the soldat bottoms out. You can hear him curse in Russian under the mask, as he rests his head on your shoulder.

Skin meets skin as he gives time for you to adjust to his size. You’ve taken him many times before, but it’s different on your cycle.

It’s like your womb opens up a little more for him.

“So good, sweetheart.” He moans, sliding out to just half of his length before snapping his hips to you. You can feel everything. Every throbbing vein on his cock, every breath he groans through his mask.

The Soldat always has a primal urge when you're bleeding, he needs to come inside you, needs to breed your cunt.

He wants to mark you as his.

“Soldat-" you moan, feeling his cock slide out another couple of inches, until he’s balls deep again, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock.

The entire bed shakes with the force of the soldat fucking you, and he fucks you hard. He’s so needy, desperate to fill you up with his seed. His moans and groans do not go unheard as his flesh hand presses on your stomach.

“Watch me fuck you, Кролик. See me sliding in and out?” All you can do is nod your head, words do not come easily.

Winter Soldier presses that hand on your tummy, pushing down as he stills, balls pressed to your skin as his cock twitches inside of you. “Feel me in your guts."

A few more thrusts has you clamping down on his cock, and when the soldier feels it, he goes fucking feral.

“Milk your Soldat's cock while he fills up your pretty pussy.” The soldier does exactly as he promises, shooting rope after rope of cum inside you.

Later, he flips you on your back so your pressed to his muscled chest, cock stuffing you full, keeping his load inside you. The Soldat mutters something like, “helps with the pain.”

And damn him, he’s right.

#fanfic #masterlist #oneshot #marvel #smut #buckbarnes #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky x reader #buckybarnessmut #winter solider smut #fluff #the winter soldier #wintersoldier #winter soldier smut #period fic #buckybarnesperiodfic

615 notes · View notes

charnelhouse · 2 years

Note

I feel like Joel would be best at ‘you almost got yourself killed and I’m so angry at you but I love you also’ fucking

A/N: Joel Miller x F!Reader. Lack of CPR knowledge. Smut. Hypothermia. I used this gif bc he looks really fucking hot ok

Joel dreams of you often. He doesn’t tell you this, refuses to admit it as if the confession of dreams would somehow weaken his defenses. In the foggy, wooly vortex of sleep, he sees you:

Dead.

Broken.

Covered in spores.

It irritates him. He has learned the brutal, ragged details of loss and having nightmares about the girl he’s fucking is not good. It means that some tiny unconscious piece of him fears for you-to lose you would sting. It is a chip in his armor. A weakness.

He lies in his makeshift bed as he stares up at a ceiling speckled with moss and water damage. You’re curled against him, bare ass snug against his thigh. He takes deep pulls from a bottle of dust and whiskey. Between his legs, his cock is soft and damp from fucking you into the mattress. His back smarts from your nails and he doesn’t understand how their sex is so aggressive and yet he finds you in his head afterward. He’s fucked countless people. Never cared. It’s his psyche that worries about you when it should be flat, pulse-less and numb in the dark.

His gaze slides to you sleeping beside him. Your face is buried in the sweatshirt serving as a pillow, your mouth parted around steady, even breathing. Swamped in moonlight, you’re beautiful—the kind of beauty that would get you killed or worse out there. That’s why I keep, right? Some leftover smugness at having someone like you with someone like me?

He leans over your body, the bottle swishing its dregs of old whisky. With gentle fingers, he maneuvers your hair away from your face, he touches your lower lip before abruptly pulling away.

Not good.

***

Being who he is, Joel keeps fucking you. He tries to be a little meaner—colder—but he’s not man enough to release you in order to find someone less complicated to warm his bed.

You stick by him like a barnacle. A very pearly one. Smooth and shiny.

“We have things to do,” he declares one morning, the slip of red dawn drifting over your skin from the narrow window.

“Alright,” you murmur as you roll out of bed and shove on your jeans.

You don’t complain or whine, which he hates. He’d love for you to backtalk him. He’d die for an ounce of sass or bitchiness, but you’re too fucking smart for that. You know what it costs. You know that he’ll use it against you and then chastise you for wastin’ time because this is what they do now. This is how the world works.

Someone took something from us and I intend to get it back.

Us.

When did it become us?

Fuck.

***

They follow the road at the edge of the forest. The woods stink of loam–sweet and dark. The first snow has powdered the ground.

The cold is wicked, binding his limbs together and reminding him of his age. He’s not really that old. It’s only been eight years since the outbreak (his birthday).

“I hate winter,” you grumble, the subtle evidence of your frustration that you’ve been forced out here to begin with. Most of the time, he thinks he should keep you at his place when he runs these missions, but he’s decided that you’re safer with him. He doesn’t miss the way the creepy old fucks look at you and there’s no such thing as locks. Not now. Not here.

“Fuck!” you yelp and Joel hears your boots skid, knee cracking on asphalt. “Shit. Shitt.”

“C’mon,” he grunts, not even looking. He doesn’t want to. He thinks that if he sees you in pain, he’ll go to you.

You curse a few more times before your footsteps sound again.

You catch up to him with alarming speed, casting him a violent glare. “What if I’d broken something?”

“I’d come back for you after I handle the Waltons.”

“Sure,” you reply flatly. “Probably drag me back home by my ankle.”

His lips twitch. They’re making good time, maneuvering rapidly through the dense woods toward the lake. His adrenaline is spiking, his fingers curling as he prepares himself for the inevitable fight. “Hardly, sweetheart,” he replies. “I’d wrap a rope around your waist—pull you that way.”

“Cruel.”

“You’ve always known that, darlin’.”

“You’re–”

He freezes and then abruptly grabs you before pulling you against a tree. One of the Waltons is outside their cabin, chopping wood. Behind him, the smoke puffs from the chimney. Black-gray against the too-blue sky.

“We wait until he goes inside,” he whispers against your ear. You’re bleeding-hot and his hand is secured right under your breast. Surprisingly, your heart pulses at an easy rhythm. You aren’t scared or nervous. You’re calm as can be and really that’s probably why he keeps you around.

And maybe the sex.

***

It’s fucked. The whole damn thing.

Joel is covered in blood, two fingers definitely broken. The man on top of him has him in a chokehold and he’s shoving back against him, trying to find some leverage to flip him over.

He hasn’t heard you for a minute and when he lifts his head, he sees one of the Walton boys—the greasy, blonde one—pinning you against the dock. You’re too far away from Joel as he watches you kick and spit like a feral cat.

You don’t call for him. You don’t scream his name or beg him for help and it’s because you’re too fucking proud and you probably think he’d get fucking mad at you or something, which isn’t the case.

So, he shouts your name. Why? He doesn’t know. It bursts out of him as the head Walton punches him in the ribs.

“Ss’fine,” you yell back and then the sun catches the silver blade of your pocket knife. It flashes once before disappearing and the blonde Walton squeals.

Thatta girl, he thinks. The expression feels tender—sweet with pride and he’s so caught up in watching you stab the kid that he doesn’t realize what’s going on until it’s too late.

The blonde snags your jacket and rolls you both into the frigid lake.

Joel doesn’t think. He may have roared or bellowed, but he wouldn’t know. He can’t recall. Instead, he plants his hands and snaps his head back into his attacker’s nose. It cracks. Splatters. He feels heat on his scalp and in his hair. The weight on him is gone and he twists, finding his knife a few feet away in the snow. He snatches the handle, flips it and plunges the blade forward. It goes through the guy’s chest—finds bone. He rips it back and does it again. A third time in a more vulnerable spot beneath the bastard’s jaw. There’s blood on his face, but he can’t worry about that now.

He runs to the lake.

***

“C’mon, girl,” he whispers frantically as he performs CPR. Your lips are cold as a fish belly. Your lashes wet and stuck together in clumps. He presses against your chest so hard that he worries he’ll break a rib.

You weren’t even under that long.

He pumps and then pinches your nose and breathes into your mouth. C’mon. C’mon. C’mon.

You twitch. Yes. You choke. Better.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he urges.

Your eyes fly open as you sputter, coughing up icy lake water that dampens Joel’s jeans. Relieved, he sighs, placing his hands on your shoulders to keep you from moving too quickly. His fingers have begun to smart, the knuckles swelling to purple.

He’s not sure what to say as you blink up at him—incredulous and a little frightened. WIthout thinking, he darts down and kisses you hard. It might not even be considered a kiss. Just an angry collision of teeth and a hint of tongue. He tries to warm your mouth with his own before pulling away. He didn’t intend to do that.

“Joel?” you rasp, lids drooping heavily.

“You almost died,” he states in a flat voice. Should he comfort you? Reassure you that you’re fine? He’s not sure how to do that. He’d done it before with Sarah, but–

He shudders, stuffing that thought somewhere he’ll not touch.

“J-Joel.” Your teeth are chattering in your mouth. Your eyes slightly unfocused. “Mm cold.”

“Well,” he replies matter-of-factly. “We can go in the cabin and figure that out.”

He says this like you couldn’t potentially die of hypothermia.

***

Inside the house, a fire still burns. It’s orange-yellow as a Texas peach and his mouth instinctively waters. He hasn’t had fresh fruit in a long ass time.

Your fingers are curled into his shirt, your cheek pressed flat to his chest. You’re freezing—stiff and unyielding as a corpse. He places you on the rug in front of the fire before scouring the house for blankets and sheets. When he finds them, he makes a nest on the floor and then crouches down behind you to rub your shoulders.

It doesn’t seem to do much because you’re still trembling. Your hair is soaked and your clothes–

Jesus. He’s a fucking idiot.

“Lift your arms,” he murmurs, but you keep on shaking, seemingly unable to move them. He does it for you. He gets your jeans off, mindful of the areas where bruises will begin to form. “Did he hurt you?”

“S’nothing-g bad.” Your words are staggering into each other like you’re drunk. Not an ideal sign.

He scrubs a hand over his face, his beard. He exhales sharply as he watches you stammer and ripple like a ribbon in the wind.

He’s on his knees in front of you—staring like a damn fool. “What do you need?”

Your hands fumble in the blankets, your expression puzzled. Shit. What are the symptoms of hypothermia? Confusion? Exhaustion?

He says your name softly and you make a broken noise that startles him.

He doesn’t know how to provide you reassurance. He understands actions. He understands pleasure. Isn’t the best way to heat someone up through skin contact?

He wrenches his jacket off before finding the hem of his shirt and tugging it over his head . He unbuckles his belt, shimmies out of his pants. You stare up at him, your eyes glassy and red.

“Skin to skin,” he explains and when he opens his arms, you fall into them. You press yourself against him, curling your cold body inward as he attempts to cover you with his own. He strokes your arms, legs and waist. He maneuvers you around so that he can press his front to your torso. He grips your thigh and hauls it over his hip before pulling the musty blankets over them. He doesn’t want to think about how unwashed they probably are, but they don’t have a choice.

He settles as you relax against him. Your heart pounds a brush faster than before. Good.

“Rest,” he instructs. “You’re okay.”

It’s the best he can do.

***

It takes a few hours for you to return to yourself. You pull away so you can stare up at him. He tips his chin to hold your gaze, his hand finds your cheek. “You almost died,” he says and, suddenly, he thinks of the dreams he’s had. He thinks of you gone from him, vanishing into the dark where he can’t find you.

He’d saved you today, but the next time? Surely, there would be a next time and—

“Thank you.” You lean into his touch, nuzzling your nose into the creases of his palm. Not as distressed as he would like.

“You almost died,” he repeats. “I could fucking kill you.”

Your eyes widen. “Why?”

“It was a stupid move.”

You frown. “Was there another option I had?”

“You could’ve not come with me.”

Your tongue darts across your lower lip as you lift an eyebrow. “Ah–so really this is about you.”

Of course it damn well is. It’s always him. He can’t afford you getting yourself stabbed or beaten or drowned.

“I could kill you,” he growls as he grips your hips and flips you on your back, eliciting a yelp from your lungs. He wedges himself between your thighs, sliding his mouth over your puckered nipple and then your belly.

You wiggle, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist.

He kisses the scar beneath your ribs and then the top of your cunt. He licks the warm crease between your folds just to tease you before he climbs back up.

He plants his arms on either side of your head as he bears his weight above your body. He’s hard, his cock full and bobbing against his belly. He feels your small hand drift over his hip, the wiry hairs at his groin before it wraps firmly around his shaft. It jumps in your hand, desperate for you in a way he doesn’t mean to show.

“You can kill me,” you whisper and he drops his head to capture your lips. He thrusts his tongue into your mouth, slipping it behind your teeth. It’s a wet kiss–dirty and panicked and i fucking hate you so much because it’s so damn obvious that i don’t. You give him an experimental stroke, thumb pressing into the head. He grunts, jerking forward.

“I want to feel you,” he confesses and it’s the most honest thing he can say here. Not i don’t want to see you dead ever. Not i really care about you.

Just feel.

You smile sweetly before guiding him into the molten suction of your pussy. It takes nothing for him to claim you. He sinks inside, straight to the hilt. He shoves his hips forward so that you’re forced to take all of him. Even when he’s buried balls deep, he leans on his arms, one hand clasping the top of your skull so he can push further. Your nails bite into his ass. You arch.

“Fuck,” you rasp, breath hitching. “Fuck–oh my god.”

They’re sealed together. Breasts crushed to his chest. Stomachs flattened. He uses his thighs to spread legs wider. He pins you there, enjoying the way your heart snaps against your ribs as if it could buffer his own.

“Thatta girl,” he coaxes, managing to plunge deeper. Something low vibrates in his throat. Something half-human. He can’t breathe, overwhelmed by the scent and feel of you, and so he sits aback on his heels, grips your knees and forces them against your tits. “You gonna take it for me?”

Your eyes roll back, cunt contracting around him. “Yes.”

Not loud enough. He spanks you between your legs, right against the tender flesh wrapped around his cock. It hurts both of them. You whine and reach for him. Yes. Yes. Yes. Joel. Please.

He eases himself out to the tip before driving forward. The force knocks you up the floor, causing your back to scrape against the wooly blankets. Another sharp thrust that punches a gasp from your throat. You shut your eyes, holding your legs open for him as he continues. It’s rough in its own way. Not the worst he’s done, but his strokes are deliberate and powerful. He fucks you hard enough that he can hear it. The slick noises that accompany every stab of his cock.

He has half a mind to say what he’s trying to through sex. When he’s nearing the end, he lowers himself over you, broken fingers pinching your chin. The pain in his hand welcome, adding a bite to the act itself. “Look at me,” he murmurs and you open your eyes. He fucks you and fucks you and every slam of his hips makes your lashes flutter. “Look, darlin’.”

“What?” you hiss because he’s taunting you –holding you firmly over the edge and shit–he loves that about you. When push comes to shove, you’ll make it known when you’re pissed. He loves the fact that you never screamed for him as you tried to save yourself. He hates it and loves it and he’s really fucked up.

He swallows hard before pressing their foreheads together. “You won’t do that again,” he warns.

“Do what?”

Another perfunctory snap of his cock.

“Fuck–Joel.”

You’re shuddering in his arms, walls spasming around him. You’re one screaming nerve of sensation. You almost died.

“You won’t do it.”

You say nothing. Instead, you nod as you tighten around him, heels digging into his lower back. He’s certain you know what he means. He just didn’t want to say it out loud.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo #hbo the last of us

2K notes · View notes

buckbuckbarnesstuff · 3 months

Text

One-Shots

Get yourself a snack, enjoy these wonderful one-shots and leave some love for the creative writers :)

♤ - includes sexual themes

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

In the red dark [5.8k] @sergeantxrogers

Tattoo artist!Bucky x Reader

His eyes trapped yours in their vice-like grip as he stared up at you, fingers brushing against the hem of your jeans, and you swallowed heavily. You felt the rush of alcohol in your head fizzle out into smoke and embers as you sobered up quicker than you ever have in your life.

"Are you sure?"

You swallowed again. Nodded.

There was a small twitch in his eyebrows, and he narrowed his gaze. "It'll hurt."

Despite your heartbeat drowning out all sounds around you, despite the cold sweat on the back of your neck, despite the knowledge that you'll probably regret this - whatever this actually was - in the morning, you smiled.

"Then I guess I'll just have to hold your hand."

{personal comment: This does something to me, I can’t even explain it, but I enjoyed it so much and I would love to read more}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

The forever third wheels [6.6] @witchywithwhiskey

Bucky x reader

summary: it's the weekend of your town's annual valentine's day carnival and you go with your group of friends, though you can't help but be sad you don't have someone special in your life. your friend, and fellow third wheel, bucky barnes makes it his mission to give you a valentine's day you won't soon forget—and show you how special you are to him.

{personal comment: I live for a good friends to lovers and this is perfect. Bucky is such a sweetheart and I got all the feels during reading}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

In Five Years [4.9k] @elixirfromthestars

Bucky x Enhanced!Reader

Summary: Bucky was having a hard time expressing his feelings about finally being free from the Winter Soldier program. To help him out, you suggested writing a letter to his future self and burying it in a time capsule to visit this moment again in the future. The plan was to open the time capsule five years from now. That was until Thanos showed up.

[personal comment: I love reading about Bucky in Wakanda and this amazing piece made me feel so many things at once. It mainly made me cry but it’s so beautiful, I love it so much}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Redamancy [7.3k] @renxzs

Roommate!Bucky x reader

Summary: Maybe it was a bit naive to think moving in with your best friend and long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, was going to be some smooth road that led to an admittance of mutual feelings for one another and a happily-ever-after ending, wrapped up nicely in a bow. Naive indeed; especially when you have to consider the fact that Bucky is the biggest womanizer you know.

{personal comment: My heart broke and healed again during reading this. It’s perfectly written and means so much to me. I come back to this fic from time to time}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Light, asunder [8.9k] @divine-mistake

Merc!Bucky x Prinzess!Reader

Summary: “Don’t ever do that again.” It would sound like his usual chastising, but Bucky’s voice is soft. If you weren’t crying so hard, struggling to catch your breath, maybe you would hear the note of fear within his words. “Don’t care how mad you get, don’t care how much I piss you off. You don’t go running off into the woods where I can’t find you, Star. Never again.”

You curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, right above where his heart lay beating in his chest, and hope he realizes that it’s a promise. A swear.

{personal comment: This is so magical somehow and I love it so much. Bucky growing soft and protective always has me weak}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Here's Looking At You, Kid [7.2k] @cryonme

Boxer!Bucky x reader

Summary: bucky hated his job just as much, if not more, than you did. but if you wanted to live the remainder of your lives together comfortably, you'd both have to stick it out. which included him having to fight your ex husband.

{personal comment: I've been going through so much while reading this fic, it’s truly beautiful. Bucky's love for the reader and the remorse for hurting her by getting hurt himself was so touching}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

The Key Jangle [9.3k] @delaber

Bucky x reader

Summary: Sick and tired of your many recent bad dates, you’re dreading yet another Valentine’s Day alone. When Bucky offers to show you what a night out is supposed to look like according to him, you get to experience what it’s like to date your best friend.

{personal comment: Bucky is so charming and sweet and that date was amazing. I really enjoyed reading it}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Stiches [3.6k] @teamatsumu

Doctor!Bucky x reader

Summary: You’re just a clueless new medical student. You’re not equipped to deal with charming, witty, handsome doctors. Especially not ones with pretty blue eyes that make you weak in the knees.

{personal comment: I'm all in for Bucky as a doctor and this was lovely written}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Warm Comforts [2.1k] @jadedvibes

Beefy roommate!Bucky x reader

Summary: A sudden breakup causes you to feel self-doubt and insecurity about your situation. Fortunately, it’s nothing your sweet roommate and a little Legally Blonde can’t fix.

{personal comment: Bucky is so attentive and sweet, it made me yearn for him so much}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Before sunset, I fell [4.5k] @atlaese ♤

Modern!Bucky x reader

Summary: Apparently, when you stay in the honeymoon suite, the husband and the ring on your left hand come with the package. *terms and conditions apply. refunds are not issued.

{personal comment: The beginning had me hooked already and charming and flirty Bucky is a blessing. I really enjoyed this}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Under the Sheets [3.9k] @vanderlustwords

Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky spends more time out of his dorm than in it with how much his roommate amorously makes love to his girlfriend. Luckily, his cute across-the-hall neighbor is generous about lending her place to him. Bucky’s unsure if he wants to hug or kiss his roommate for putting him in the situation he is in now.

{personal comment: I enjoyed reading this, and Bucky being so cute}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Too hot, An Arm Cold [2.9k] @t-lostinworlds

Bucky x reader

Summary: Cuddles from Bucky Barnes was probably one of the greatest things ever. But it was difficult to prove that point true in the middle of a heatwave while the apartment air conditioner was broken. Good thing he has a cold metal arm.

{personal comment: This is so wholesome and sweet, the perfect amount of fluff}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

These cold rooftops [3.6k] @atlaese

Avenger!Bucky x Vigilante!Reader

Summary: You're just doing your job as the local vigilante in new york, why can't bucky barnes leave you alone? Spoiler alert: He is very much in love with you, even though he has never seen your face.

{personal comment: This was nice to read, I enjoyed their interactions}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Me & the devil [11.2k] @artficlly

Outlaw!Bucky x Saloon girl!Reader

Summary: The Diamondback Saloon and Hotel has always attracted bad men, and Bucky Barnes happens to be one of them

{personal comment: It was so thrilling to read this, the built up to the angst is amazing and I've been on edge the whole time reading this. I'm in love with this and the writing style and it deserves so much more recognition}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Keeping Score @all1e23

Bucky x reader Fake-Dating AU

Summary: After hearing you begging Steve to pretend to be your fake boyfriend to keep your family off your back, Bucky quickly jumps at the chance to play your boyfriend even though you’re a hundred percent sure he hates you. What could possibly go wrong?

{personal comment: Bucky is such a charmer, but also so perceptive and soft. This gave me the feels, I really liked it}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Spilled wine [3.3k] @sunmoonandeddie

King!Bucky x reader

Summary: You’re nothing more than a servant who happens to warm the bed of the king. At least, that’s what you thought you were.

{personal comment: This gave me so many butterflies. Bucky is so perfect, it was truly lovely to read}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Happy Mistake @sunlightdances

College!Bucky x College!Reader

Summary: Being assigned roommates with Bucky. He's a giant and looks like he's a bully, but he's actually so shy and soft.

{personal comment: Bucky being a cute, but oblivious idiot always is endearing. Felt bad for the reader throughout, but I'm glad it turned out so sweet}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Deny me [3.2k] @drewbarymore

Biker!Bucky x reader

Summary: In which you feel like Bucky’s ashamed of you.

{personal comment: I felt so many things reading this. Bucky is such a perfect boyfriend and a sweet dork, we gotta love him}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Heavy bruising [14.2k] @aeaean--bliss

Bucky x reader

Summary: A court-mandated therapy session brings you and Bucky back together after months of not speaking, bringing up memories of the mission that fucked everything up in the first place.

{personal comment: I feel like I just watched a movie. This is truly a masterpiece. The angst, the writing style, the reader's sarcasm and the way Bucky speaks his mind at the end - so beautiful}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

11:59 pm, December 31 [1.7k] @lunarbuck

bestfriend!bucky x Reader College AU

Summary: You've been in love with your best friend Bucky Barnes since fourth grade, but to him, you're just his best friend. It's New Year's Eve, maybe tonight will be different.

{personal comment: This got me so excited at the end, Bucky made me swoon}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Dust to Dust [7.4k] @autumnsghosts

Bucky x reader

Summary: When you come back from the blip in the graveyard having just been at your grandmother’s funeral, the cemetery seems like the safest place to be. Cleaning old gravestones had certainly never been a dream of yours, but now you find yourself there most days, scraping dirt and moss and algae from stones of people long dead and most likely long forgotten. It also doesn't hurt that a certain blue-eyed super soldier visits the cemetery weekly, placing flowers over two plots.

{personal comment: I didn’t really know what to expect the first time starting this, but it really moved me in a way I can’t explain. Bucky is so genuine and it was lovely to read about the way they bonded}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

You're my home [2.5k] @whitexwolfxx310 ♤

Bucky x reader

Summary: Your wedding night!

{personal comment: I love it soft and sweet and this is perfect}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Different now [6k] @drabbles-mc ♤

Bucky x Ex!Wife!Reader

Summary: For Week 5 of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer 2024: We're Exes

{personal comment: My heart is burning and my stomach is in knots but this is beautifully written and so deeply touching}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Bribe the super [5.8k] @real-jane

Firefighter!Bucky x Rogers!Reader

Summary: You have a very hot neighbor. He happens to think the same of you.

{personal comment: This was an absolutely endearing read and I enjoyed it so much, had me smiling a lot}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

I won't mind [6.5k] @gxrlcinema

40's!Bucky Barnes x Widow!Reader, Reader x OMC (Past)

Summary: Your old pal Bucky only has a few hours before he goes off to war. Somehow, he winds up spending them with you.

{personal comment: I bawled my eyes out reading this. It’s beautifully written and so touching. I love those conversations}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Citrus, Miniature Sun [6.4k] @babycap

Bucky x reader

Summary: Steve's getting married, and as much as it thrills you that one-third of your 'to the end of the line' trio is getting hitched, it also fills you with dread at the prospect of your ex-fiance also being on the guest list. Luckily for you, the other third of your trio (who you are most certainly, absolutely not in love with) has a plan. A childhood friends-to-lovers, fake dating AU fic.

{personal comment: It’s perfect and utterly beautiful in so many aspects and I felt so deeply. Bless Bucky for being the best man to only exist in fiction, but I won't ever let go of him, or this fic}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Jack Pendleton [6.2k] @roger-that-cap

Author!Bucky x reader

Summary: moving into an apartment to get away from your last relationship was fun all fun and games until you met your extremely attractive across-the-hall neighbor, who makes awesome cookies and even better novels.

{personal comment: This was exciting and also really interesting. I was invested, really sweet fic}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

You are in love [3.9k] @viperbarnes

Bucky x reader

Summary: You can hear it in the silence. You can feel it on the way home. You can see it with the lights out, you are in love.

{personal comment: The way this relationship is portrayed just stunns me. It’s beautiful, real and domestic and I found myself lost in it}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Call it love [10.7k] @sweetascanbee

Bucky x reader

Summary: As much of an expert as you were in pain, Bucky Barnes had introduced you to a novel strain, a kind of pain that encased your entire being down to the last atom, the kind of pain that left you breathless and sated, and yet still, wanting more.

{personal comment: I love to read about Bucky in Wakanda and this really hit me deep. It’s raw and geniune and just so insanely beautiful, I needed to take a break off the internet after that to fix my thoughts and feelings}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Saints into the sea [7.4k] @babycap

Bucky x reader

Summary: Drunk jealous Bucky cockblocking the reader bc of his big dumb feelings

{personal comment: All the emotions portrayed and felt were so perfectly captured and I felt like watching a movie. The descriptions, the metaphors... It’s just truly amazing}

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky #fic rec #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic rec

161 notes · View notes

ornii · 4 months

Text

Bitterly Beautiful: Family Ties

Ireland

(Y/n) and Wednesday, a love story as old as time. Winter break had finally reached Nevermore and (Y/n) made a suggestion, to visit Ireland and for his bride to meet his family. Wednesday being the old fashion woman she is, she couldn’t say no.

A massive old ship sailed across the sea, being piloted by not humans but beings that ceased to exist, skeletons. All remains of pirates once plundering the seas for their fill now in service to the Healy name. Wednesday found this most fascinating, her eyes dance along the deck of the ship as she stands with (Y/n), he points to the Captian moving the ship with the wheel.

“You see the Captian and his crew died to a kraken if you could believe it. Tore their ship from the sea to the bottom of the ocean.” He explained, and Wednesday stared at their moving bones, flesh barely visible under the ragged clothes. “Fascinating.. Rigor mortis obviously has set in but their bodies seem to reject the stiffness.”

“Is that all you got from my story?” He replied.

“It’s all that I care to listen to.” She responded. A small laugh came from (Y/n). “I love you too Wednesday.” He steps forward with his cane and she follows. “My family is a bit more.. bombastic than yours.” He started, “So it might be a bit.. uncomfortable at first but they mean well..”

“As long as they don’t touch me, all will be well.” Her response was expected, but not particularly hated either. (Y/n) inhaled and turned around to the front of the ship.

“We’re here, the Rock of Cashel.” Wednesday turned as well, her eyes gazing upon a massive castle of limestone and rock. “It’s.. impressive.” She said, and he stepped up next to her. “Nice Family heirloom which I’ll eventually take over, I can give you the tour when we dock.. but I think my family wants to at least say hello because you recluse yourself.” He replied. Wednesday slightly pouts but goes with it. Docking at the waters near the castle, now more monsters. Oddly short human like people. They carted and carried their bags and belongings into the castle as (Y/n) and Wednesday sit and ride carriage upwards to the castle.

“Leprechauns?” She asked.

“Nope, Puca. Little known monsters here.” He responded, “They can transform into animals, sly little things.” (Y/n) leaned forward and looked in the direction of Wednesday.

“Admittedly, I didn’t expect you to say yes to visiting my family. Especially since it’s in a castle in a completely different continent.” He cracked a smile, but Wednesday kept a calm demeanor. “You handled my family exceptionally well, even with their.. issues. It’s only fair that I do the same for you.” She explained, she could see the gears turning in (Y/n)’s head as she says this, something was hidden under his smile but he kept it.

The duo arrive at the gate of the castle, which slowly opens the heavy wooden doors. The large hefty foyer looks right out of the 13th century. Paintings of battles of gods and men, marble statues of men and women chiseled. Tapestry of the Bloodline in perfect etching detail, all of it truly felt otherworldly.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” He said, Wednesday’s eyes scanned along the walls. “Admittedly it is.. do you have torture chamber as well?”

“That’s…” he started to speak but the sudden boom of footsteps approaching halted his speech, Wednesday and (Y/n) turned to the origin of the sound, the deep dark hallway which was lit barely but the encroaching flames of torches, Wednesday watches as a massive Fomorian titan stormed out of the hall. She took a step back and was prepared to run or fight. She looks to (Y/n) who wasn’t particularly changed by the presence.

“(Y/n) if you couldn’t hear there’s a towering monster before us!” She gripped his wrist and he tilts his head in her direction.

“I know, and it isn’t funny Aunt.” He said, the monster groans and pouts.

“I just wanted to see if the lass was as ice cold as you always said she was.” The monsters voice was booming, but also a feminine tone. Her body began to transform, bones shrinking, skin changing and hair growing, Wednesday was baffled and somehow amazed to watch the human body transform. A burly woman stood before her, hefty red hair and a strong jawline but a porcelain face. Her dress was a deep blue and hefty dress with a wolf fur coat around the neckline.

“Pale little thing isn’t she?” The woman leaned in, her lively emerald green eyes collided with Wednesdays cold and emotionally dead dark black eyes. “She isn’t pale she’s just.. you know.” (Y/n) mumbled, the woman offers a firm handshake, taking Wednesdays had without her say and shaking it strongly, Wednesday was taken aback by her terrifyingly firm grasp but soft skin. “Right, no sunlight.” Wednesday stepped back to avoid being hugged and crushed by the woman. “Wednesday, this is Aunt Dian.” (Y/n) steps in between them.

Wednesday stared at the woman, not able to form an accurate response to what she’s seeing. “Yes.. indeed.” Wednesday replied, and Dian turned around, “Alright! Now to your chambers, and you two won’t be sharing a room. Show her the way.” She eyes (Y/n) who acts as if he isn’t paying attention. The woman casually strolls away as the two head deeper into the castle.

“Why is she so… large?” Wednesday asked, “Genetics, reincarnation tends to have adverse effects on how your body functions and reforms. Dian was the God of Medicine here.” He tilts slightly to Wednesday, “There’s something I want to show you.” He said, “Much more interesting than a bedchamber.”

The two stroll out the hearty woods past the castle to a forest. A few spots of clearing were there but still surrounded thick trees.

“This place was a battle ground, graveyard I believe. Legend says you can hear the wails of the dead at night though the forest trees.”

“Was that legend created by you?” She ask sarcastically. “I mean… for the most part.” He admits, “I appreciate you not trying to kill my aunt when she shook your hand.” He thanks her, and kept walking forward. Wednesday halted in her footsteps and he turned to her direction.

“I’ll admit it took everything in my power to not succumb to death at her touch. It’s not like I could have escaped her iron grip anyway.” Wednesday adds in, (Y/n) shrugs. “Fair point.. but I’m glad you’re getting along with her, my cousins.. might be a bit more than you can handle.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No, a warning, they’re kids they don’t know any better.” He gently took her hand, sensing her unwary gaze. “Something’s bothering you.. what is it?” He leaned in, Wednesday wanted to speak freely but, it felt like her lips were bound by a spell, and couldn’t form the words to speak.

The sudden pick up of wind cut off their moment, feeling the odd force of air current against them. Leaves spiraled and danced around them. “That’s… not good.”

“Are spinning leaves a bad omen?”

“No, but it’s just weird.” His response was calm, but wary. Wednesday looked around as the leaves rested and something caught her eye. “(Y/n).” She spoke, “There’s.. a body.”

“A..Body?” He turned to her direction and took a hearty step, the echo formed a wave to bounce sound off, and he felt it on the ground. The two slowly walked towards it. They came across a corpse on the ground, still and unmoving. “It feels like a woman..” (Y/n) knelt down with Wednesday.

“Black hair, late teens. She seems to have some sharp object in her hand, but her hand is, oddly stiff.. her body doesn’t look too cold to allow rigor mortis to set in.” Wednesday said, “Do you know her?”

“No, the servants aren’t human…” he reached and touched her neck, feeling a faint but warm pulse. “She’s alive… perhaps she’s sleeping.”

“Sleeping in the woods behind a castle?” Wednesday replied. “Well when you put it that way..” (Y/n) mumbled. “I’ll just wake her up.”

“Are you sure? All circumstances point to this ending very poorly for you.” Wednesday points out, “We help people Wednesday.. would be wrong of me to leave her here, plus you’re overthinking.”

(Y/n) gently placed his fingers on her forehead, his middle and pointer finger poking the center of her brow. “Eirich bhon aisling gun chrìoch” he spoke a spell and the woman’s eyes slowly opened. (Y/n) confidently turned to Wednesday. “See not a problem—“

Before (Y/n) could confidently tell his girlfriend, the strange woman moves with blinding speed, the sharp object rammed straight between his fourth and fifth rib. It was so fast (Y/n) didn’t have time to even react before falling back and gripping the blade, Wednesday blinked and the next thing she knew he was on the ground in pain. Rushing to his side she saw the knife and held it. “Calm down.. panicking makes you loose more blood. Relax and take a deep breath.” Wednesday caressed his forehead, and with a swift motion yanks the blade from his chest. (Y/n) quickly put his hand on his wound to slow the bleeding. The mystery woman wasn’t angry or sad, she was stunned at what she did, her glossy eyes looked over to the two and immediate guilt washed over her.

“Holy.. shit. I am so sorry!” She pleads, Wednesday turns to her with nothing but cold dead hatred. “I should fill your eyes with hot coals for what you’ve done.” Wednesday rarely shows emotion, but what she does it’s intense, and nothing is more intense than hate.

“It’s fine.. I’m.. fine..” (Y/n) sits up, “Just need.. to get home.. okay?” He asked Wednesday, she turned to the girl. “If you truly are sorry then you’ll help us.. after that.. we’ll see.” Wednesday began to help (Y/n) up, and the mystery girl did as well and essentially carried the boy back home.

Wednesday finished the last seam of her sewing the wound shut as (Y/n) bared his chest and lifted his arms up in her room. Sitting at a desk and across from each other the partners were silent, (Y/n) with pain and Wednesday with worry. The mysterious girl was leaning against a wall, fiddling with her fingers and obviously embarrassed.

“Again… I am.. so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, isn’t the first time I’ve been stabbed or shot.” (Y/n) shrugs, “just a new scar that my girlfriend finds pretty hot huh?” He tilts his head to Wednesday, who looks away trying to keep her composure.

“Your stab wasn’t deep enough to puncture the heart thankfully, but you knew how to stab in between the ribs and the right place to land a fatal blow, impressive.” She admits. The girl smiled, even if she was fighting back guilt. “Oh uh, thanks.. my mom taught me a lot, honestly I was scared to death I killed you.. my hair allowed went white, it’s.. black so you would have noticed..” she said, which was a major screw up.

(If you knew why, congrats.)

“Why did you say that?” Wednesday said, the girl raised an eyebrow. “Uh.. what do you mean?” She asked dumbfounded. She slowly stood up, grabbing a pair of scissors.

“You pointed out your hair color as if you knew one of us couldn’t see it…” Wednesday pointed out, which made (Y/n) raise his eyebrow, he slowly turns to the direction of the girl.

“She’s right.. I didn’t have my cane and my glasses are pretty normal.. how did you know I was blind?” He said, and a look of utter panic was on her face.

“You knew who we were, and you attacked..” Wednesday took a step closer.

“I’m sure you have some explanation.. right?” (Y/n) also stood up, and the girl sighed and shook her head.

“Dad’s gonna kill me…” she sighed and looked up at them. “Okay… my name, Is Fall Monday Healy.”

(Y/n)’s face twists to confusion. “.. Who?” He asked in disbelief and Fall gave an awkward and sad smile, “I’m from the future… so.. Hi Mom, Hi Dad.” She looks at them. (Y/n) and Wednesday turn to each other, it seems this break has taken a very interesting turn.

#male reader #netflix #wednesday #wednesday addams x male reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #reader insert #wedensday x you #time travel #bitterlybeautiful #Ornii

172 notes · View notes

winterarmyy · 2 years

Text

Plot Twist | Part I

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

Run-through: I just need to get this out of my system. Most of arranged marriage mob/mafia!au I've read has a strong/bratty reader. And a really mean/asshole Bucky. Which is absolutely fine btw but its getting repetitive for me. I wanted to see a reader who's actually soft but fierce when she wants to be. And Bucky who is generally cold and seems to be married to his job but notices small things that the reader do, thus subconsciously started to care about her. They don’t hate each other, nor do they are infatuated. I don’t know if this exist, so I decided write it myself just in case. Enjoy!

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III* (end) | Extra

Words: 1.1k++

Pairing: beefy mafia!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: just fluffy and wholesome stuff here. Nothing graphic or explicit.

P/S: I like to write in 3rd pov btw. There's a few mentions of y/n sometimes too. Beware of the grammar mistakes, English is not my first language. This might be 2-3 parts type of fic, so tell me what you think so far.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

“He's late.”

The soft clinking sounds of his rings colliding with each other and onto the dresser woke her up from her deep slumber. Though her body remained still, her mind continued to wonder,

“Late. Again.” She thought.

The sound of fabrics rustling about hinted her of what was happening beyond her closed eyes. The shut of the bathroom door confirmed her speculations.

“So, what if he came back home late? Why does it concern you?” She questioned herself.

Only a fool would believe if she said that she didn't care at all about the whereabout and well-being of this man. He is her husband after all.

Six months ago, she stood on the alter with that man. They swore an oath. They sealed the kiss. He was hers and she was his.

James Buchanan Barnes; Bucky was what he preferred to called. He is what every man wants to become, and every woman wants to be with.

An Adonis of a man; impossibly tall, 6'5"; body armored with thick layer of muscles. Bucky is huge, that if he trapped her against the wall, she might just see the resemblance of him to a grizzly bear. His dark hair flowed just above his shoulder and his steel blue eyes were as cold as his personality.

Though she wouldn't compare him to a frozen blizzard during the winter, he was more like the first day of snow, when the white flakes started to fall.

Cold enough to make you shiver and warm enough to lure you out but most importantly, obscenely beautiful.

However, of course, the main reason of the marriage set up by her father was not because of how beautiful he is, but to fulfil his hunger for power. As if the territories that their family has wasn't enough, her father arranged this union to extend his reign.

Y/N protested at first but knew better than to fight against her father. Being raised in such family, at a very young age she learned to think always ahead; pass the emotions and intuitions. What's the rational and logical way to solve a problem.

Took her a week to wrap her head around the matter, research about Barnes and go through the agreement between her father and her then husband to be. Barnes had listed some main demands regarding the union and although most of them were about their business, but one particular demand had caught her attention.

“After marriage, the couple must be faithful to one another. Any romantic/sexual relationships prior must be severed/resolved immediately. Failed to do so will result to termination of the contract.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” She thought.

Not that she was in any relationship at the time, and all the research result to possibly positive outcome. So, in the end, she complied.

Which then explained why she was sleeping in Bucky's bed six months later.

“I know you're awake.” Bucky's gravel voice startled her internal thoughts. She could feel the indentation of the mattress on his side of the bed, the fresh and clean scent wafting from him. She nearly purred from a sniff of it.

She slowly opened her eyes as if she was trying to peep and god what a sight to see after a restless sleep; Bucky's idea of pajamas was basic pants and nothing above and Y/N didn’t know what to feel about that. Does she hate it? Absolutely not. Does she like it? Well, he is easy on the eye indeed.

The room was dimly lit, but she could see his slightly damp hair; it looked longer than it is dry. Her eyes followed the outline of his body leaning against the bed. The soft light reflected on his metal arm particularly follows the gold lines decorating the dark surface.

She often had intrusive thoughts of tracing the lines; what would it feel like against her fingertips. Does he feel anything? Is it cold? Will it feel good?

“You do know that it’s a waste your time to wait for me, right?” He huffed a heavy breath. She could hear the fatigue in his sigh.

And how does Bucky know that she waited for him before admitting her defeat to the drowsiness? Somehow, Bucky always managed to know things, to the littlest matter, even when he’s million miles across the world.

Just like when she found a copy of Pride and Prejudice on the bed a few months ago. The day before she received it, her copy was drenched in coffee; a young woman bumped into her in front of the café she often visit. He was in Russia that time. “Was it Clint? Did he tell Bucky?” she wondered.

“Whoever said I was waiting for you?” She scoffed, yet if the room was well lit enough, Bucky would’ve seen how playful her expression was.

He hummed a deep voice, “Hmm.” there’s a hint of doubt in his tone.

Y/N quickly follow her previous sentence, “I was simply enjoying my reading, that I lost track of time.” She shifted to face him and tucked herself further into the blanket, hiding the lower half of her face as she looked up at him. She wondered if he could tell that she was smiling just from her eyes.

Bucky’s gaze remained still on her, as if he was trying to reach into her soul, before he leaned closer to peek on the book on the table. Pride and Prejudice written on it.

He chuckled, which was rare. At the least the real ones are.

Of course, she had seen him smile and laugh countless of time. Especially during those gala they often attend. But those were just another set of armor he wore on a daily basis.

Bucky tried to bite back a smile, sinking his teeth into his lower lip, “Lost track of time, huh?” Yet, somehow Y/N can hear the smile in his tone.

“A good read?” he asked as if he did not know why his wife brought up about the book. She never said anything about the gift; not a thank you or a complaint.

She simply cherish it in her own way. He heard from Clint that she rearranged her whole bookshelf just to make space for the book he gave her. Maybe this was her way of saying thank you.

He had been giving her books every week, since.

She pulled the blanket away from her face, lips curled into a genuine smile, “Always.”

Bucky preened to her reply before suddenly, “Okay, enough chit chat. It’s late.” he said almost monotone sounded, as he made himself comfortable under the blanket.

Before she could overthink of what went wrong, why the sudden drop of chemistry; that was when she felt his hand roamed to find hers. Bucky brought her palm closer to his face, she could feel his hot breath against her cold skin.

He leaned his lips on her palm, leaving a soft and tender kiss as he mumbled, “Goodnight, doll.”

Rush of red shades bloomed on her cheeks, before caving into the feeling of his stubble on her hand. She gently caresses the side of his cheeks, hoping it soothes him to sleep.

The corners of her lips curved upwards into a smile, "See? Like, the first day of snow."

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: It’s my first fic so... share your thoughts? ily 🤍

#winterarmyyfics #plottwistfic #mafia!bucky #mob!bucky #bucky barnes au #mafia!bucky x reader #mob!bucky x reader #arranged marriage #husband!bucky #beefy!bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

2K notes · View notes

t-lostinworlds · 1 month

Text

Warm Winter & Fiery Frost [1] | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x ex-HYDRA assassin!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: grumpy x grumpy, enemies to lovers-ish, slow burn-ish, angst, fluff-ish

》 SUMMARY: They say opposites attract. You and Bucky were so alike—He was called The Winter Soldier and you were called Frost, for fucks sake—that it's probably the reason why you hated each other. Or was it the denying of powerful feelings in fear of getting hurt? You know, like how the cliché goes. Because you know what they also say: There's a fine line between love and hate.

》 WARNINGS: read full warnings here

》 WORD COUNT: 12.6k+

A/N: so, i decided to divide the fic into two just to give you guys the option to read it here as well since i feel like a lot of ppl are more comfortable with just reading it on tumblr sksksks but you also still do have the option to read it on AO3 if you want. will be posting part 2 tomorrow around the same time. it will be linked at the end. i hope you enjoy!

📘 READ ON AO3 | ★ FIC MASTERPOST

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Some said first impressions have a lasting impact, that it might even be a crucial pillar of any relationship. Others would vouch that it could be a bit misleading, that everybody deserves a second chance, that getting to know someone on a deeper level was far more important. After all, people were good at pretending, wearing masks for different occasions, putting on a façade depending on who they were standing in front of.

Bucky's first impression of you was that you were downright rude.

You definitely were not the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, a confident aura surrounding your graceful form as you entered the conference room. You definitely didn't capture his attention easily, didn't make his heart skip a couple of beats when he briefly caught your piercing gaze, eyes a beautiful shade that he wanted to look closer to see if there were any variations or they were as perfect and pure in color at first glance. You didn't make his breath nervously hitch when your head tilted ever so slightly, almost scrutinizingly as you studied him with your pretty lips pursed.

He definitely didn't linger there for a second or two, either.

Nope.

All he could think about was how cold and arrogant you seemed to be, head held high as Steve introduced you to the team one by one, settling for formal handshakes and a barely-there smile.

Bucky definitely was not thinking about how you were able to keep your features impassive yet stay so gorgeous in his eyes. He definitely wasn't intrigued about the slight gray of cautiousness tinting your irises, definitely not curious to know more of your quiet and reserved nature. He wasn'tat all itching to peel back your layers with such tenderness and care, to know more about you—light, darkness and demons alike.

Who knew lying to yourself could be so easy?

"And this is Bucky Barnes," Steve said, patting his shoulder, smiling excitedly for some reason he knew nothing of. "You know, the one I kept telling you about."

Bucky glared at his best friend curiously before turning to you, keeping a straight face as he held his hand out.

"I read your file."

That was Bucky's first words to you.

A second after they left his mouth, his stomach churned as he watched your face harden, lips pressed tightly into a thin line. You glanced at his outstretched hand, pointedly ignoring it as you crossed your arms over your chest. Chin up, you looked at him dead straight in the eyes, a certain fire flickering over yours, a brow raised in challenge.

You didn't say a word.

Bucky only got a curt nod before you turned back to Steve.

"My room?" you asked the blonde, features softening.

"Come on," Natasha interjected, nodding towards the door.

Bucky felt a sudden surge of jealousy at the cordial way you regarded the two. He felt envious when you returned Nat's grin with a small smile of your own as you followed her lead. It was faint enough to not be noticeable if you weren't particularly observant but definitely better than the scowl you wore when looking at him.

He ignored the way the redhead shot him a look over her shoulder as she guided you out of the conference room.

It was safe to say that as far as first impressions went, both of yours definitely weren't the best.

"What?" Bucky sighed when he caught the way his best friend was looking at him.

"Really?" Steve scolded, hands on his hips. "'I read your file' is not a conversation starter, Buck."

Fine. Maybe that wasn't the best—nor appropriate—thing to say to you first. But it was exactly because of that file that he was wary of you.

You were a spy, an assassin, trained in the Red Room only to get traded to HYDRA after some negotiations. They probably saw your potential—took you under their wing before you could even graduate so you didn't class as one of the Black Widows. Still, that didn't mean you didn't have the abilities of one, especially when you started young like most did. Now, adding the brutality and mercilessness HYDRA taught their killing machines?

You were one deadly mix.

The file said you were enhanced in some way. It didn't have the specifics as to what but it did state what wasn't. No superpowers, nothing magic-related, not even a case of superhuman abilities. But since these were organizations known for their hunger to experiment and enhance individuals, he had an inkling that you weren't just human, either.

Bucky didn't understand what level of consciousness you were in when you were doing their bidding. All he knew was that newer technology was involved, something to do with a microchip embedded on the back of your neck, connected right into your brain stem that any attempt at removing it carelessly would lead to your death.

He didn't know the extent of what that chip could do, didn't know if it was roughly the same as his programming where his mind was wiped and then controlled. It was possibly different yet similar—two sides of the same coin.

That part of the file was redacted, and Steve was adamant about staying quiet with that side of your story when asked. It was understandable, he supposed. It was nobody's place to tell but yours.

But judging from those alone, Bucky could guess it wasn't a lovely walk through the fields.

You were free from that now—thanks to Shuri, of course—but you could never be too cautious.

Just because Natasha saw you as a long lost sister, or how Steve was quick to trust you enough to escort you to Wakanda himself, and for both to vouch for you to join the team, didn't mean Bucky had to follow in their footsteps of plain blind faith.

It definitely had nothing to do with how nervous he suddenly got when you were standing right in front of him, or the way his heart picked up the pace when you were in the vicinity, let alone, glanced his way.

But with all the lies he'd been keen on feeding himself, Bucky had to admit, you were mesmerizingly and gorgeously terrifying.

There was just something about the way you carry yourself that even as simple as you walking down the hallway had everyone parting out of your way like the Red Sea.

Your reputation preceded you—Frost, a name most people feared to cross, belonging to a list of the most feared assassins who were still alive, of those who roamed free.

Whether that was second, equal, or better than The Winter Soldier…well, it depended on who you asked.

It somehow conjured this unspoken competition throughout the entire facility.

Who was more menacing?

Who was more skilled in hand-to-hand combat?

Who had the best death glare?

Who wielded the knife better?

Who had the better murder strut?

Who was the better assassin?

Who would win in a staring contest?

Who was grumpier, colder, the deadlier killer—The Winter or Frost?

Even the core Avengers team was silently in on it. The bets were mundane but they were there. An extra pizza slice, a dollar or two, who gets to go on the next coffee run, who gets to do whose laundry—they were thoroughly entertained by it.

Even Sam commented how you made Bucky's glare look like puppy eyes.

He honestly felt a little offended.

Probably because the truth sucked since, hell, even Bucky felt intimidated by you—in more ways than one.

Nobody intimidated him, not until you.

Bucky hated it.

If you asked his ego and pride, they'd tell you it was because the comparisons were insulting. He was the best in his field, he had decades of experience under his belt—he was a goddamn super soldier for crying out loud. A newbie, someone who didn't even reach half of what he'd been through, wasn't going to be better than him, even with similar skill sets.

But deep down, he knew it was something else entirely.

If he were to truthfully answer those questions that circled the compound, he would be biased, subjective, completely and utterly infatuated because his answer was you.

In Bucky's rose-tinted eyes, you win anything because he would wholeheartedly give you everything.

That was another thing he was entirely terrified and intimidated by.

Never had he ever felt this strong pull before, an intrigue and need to be closer to someone, let alone someone he just met. It was new territory, something unfamiliar, especially in the last couple of decades.

Bucky hated not being able to understand what he was feeling, hated not being in control of the way his thoughts sprinted in all directions, fast and unrelenting to match the beating of his heart. He hated the way you made him feel a plethora of overwhelming yet warm emotions all from a simple look, a complicated concoction of admiration, fear, infatuation, lust and everything in between.

He hated the way you threw his whole world off its axis when he'd been doing good so far at gradually understanding his mind, his heart, his whole self.

Now, he was confused, terrified, captivated by you in so little time and he hated it.

And like Pavlov's dog and the Theory of Classical Conditioning—

Bucky hated you.

•••

As it turned out, you hated him too.

You weren't verbal about it for the first few months you lived in the compound. But then again, you had been keeping to yourself most of the time.

People barely saw you roaming around. You didn't sit with the team during meals, you even skipped over movie nights or any other 'team-bonding' exercise the rest came up with. The only other person who saw you more frequently than most was Natasha. But given that you two were floormates, that was to be expected.

Bucky would sometimes catch a glimpse of you in the gym during the early hours, dancing around punching bags like a graceful ballerina but with a forceful punch and kick that would rival the best and the greats—ruthless just like how you were trained to be.

It was the same time he usually went down, hoping to let off steam when he couldn't shake a particular nightmare. But when you got there first, he opted to go for an early run outside instead, giving you the space to yourself.

He had a feeling you needed it more.

Other than that, you were like a ghost in the compound. There was no physical evidence or any lingering traces of you in the common spaces.

But if and when you were around, your presence alone was palpable—quietly minding your business in a corner, but everyone was aware that you were there. It was that commanding and powerful aura you exuded.

It definitely reminded him of how a certain someone acted when he first got into the compound.

So he didn't take your indifference, borderline coldness to heart at the start since you weren't overly friendly to everyone.

But as weeks turned to months and the atmosphere around you began to shift, the contrast between your attitudes suddenly became more apparent.

There was a difference between how you acted around the team and how you behaved around him.

Bucky was quick to realize that you were definitely colder and much more judgemental when it came to him.

From your deathly glares during meetings, pointed eye rolls with each question he asked about letting you join on missions, audible enough scoffs to every comment he made, to completely turning away from him with a disapproving shake of your head, cursing him out in Russian under your breath as if he wasn't fluent in the language, as if he wouldn't catch you with superhuman hearing.

Your dislike towards him was excessively obvious.

Even more so as you began to acclimate in the compound, feeling more and more comfortable around fellow Avengers as you came out of your hard shell—you were now present during game nights and movie nights, you'd sat in the dining hall with the team during dinners, and willingly joining in when it was time for training. You'd even become fast friends with Wanda and Sam.

You were now a little less menacing towards acquaintances and agents, too. Most were still scared of you, and rightfully so. You always wore that impassive expression that never gave a hint whether you liked the person or not. You barely even smile, at those you didn't know anyway—well, unless you wanted to make a point.

Like that one time you knocked an agent off his feet during a spar, clean and swift when he told you, 'You would look prettier when you smile.' You towered over the heaving man on the floor, eyeing his bleeding nose with a grin, wide and sarcastic.

Other than that, you'd learned to be somewhat cordial—consisting of curt nods, to tight-lipped smiles and less glaring—with everyone else.

Well, everyone except him.

Oh you hated him.

Bucky could feel it searing on his skin just from one simple look, rattling deep in his bones with every scoff of disdain.

As a matter of fact, everyone could feel the simmering tension in the air when you both were in the same room, quietly bubbling like magma under the earth, waiting for that small opening to finally burst into chaos.

It didn't take long for the first shift to happen, a crack between each other's resolve, the slight change between you both.

Bucky couldn't say it was for the better.

After all, going from silent glares and unspoken distaste to petty comments and loud arguments wasn't exactly classified as an improvement.

•••

"I don't trust her, Steve."

"You haven't even given her a chance."

"She's an ex-HYDRA assassin," Bucky pressed, his scowl deepening when his best friend brushed him off. "They can never be trusted."

"Takes one to know one."

Bucky's heart stopped at the sound of your voice, body freezing momentarily once he saw you sat on the kitchen counter, legs kicking aimlessly as you read a book.

You looked innocent—so fucking cute, but he wasn't going to acknowledge that—like you could never do any harm. But he knew better. Which was why he couldn't stop his stomach from churning solely from the fact that you heard what he said.

And without even lifting your eyes from the page, you still were able to get a read on him.

It was frustrating how good you were.

"What?" you scoffed, taking a bite of the plum he was sure was taken from his stash. He was the only one who constantly brought them into the team. Finally looking at him, you raised a brow, pouting at him tauntingly. "Too scared to say it to my face?"

"I don't like people who keep secrets," Bucky huffed, arms crossed over his chest with a sharp glare as he looked you straight in the eye. "It was never mentioned how they found you, and we usually don't pick up strays off the street."

"Buck," Steve warned.

You closed your book with a harsh snap, hopping off the counter swiftly before walking towards him with a blank face. Taking another bite of the plum, you never broke eye contact, the fire in your gaze flickering the second you were standing right in front of him.

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat, his skin prickling with heat as you pointedly scanned him from head to toe, arms over your chest to mirror his stance, your head tilted in that annoyingly adorable way.

Yet the smallest adoration he held was quickly replaced by pure animosity the moment you opened that pretty little mouth of yours.

"Rich coming from HYDRA's favorite lost and found pet," you said, face calm, voice just as much with a touch of being cold. The only other hint that showed your emotion was the fire that kept growing in those gorgeous eyes. Brow raised, you added, "At least I don't look homeless."

"Watch your fucking mouth," Bucky snarled, taking a challenging step forward, towering over you with fists clenched at his sides.

You pouted, seeming innocent as you hummed, "You know, they say lice make people irritable. You should get that checked."

His vibranium arm whirred, nostrils flaring as a growl rumbled in his chest.

You did nothing but smirk.

Before he could even open his mouth for a rebuttal, Steve was quick to get between you both.

"Alright, knock it off," he sighed, hand firm on Bucky's chest as he shot him a silent warning before turning to you. "There's a quick undercover op in Palermo, Sicily. Nothing more than a quick recon mission. Fly in, attend a party, gather intel, interrogate if necessary, fly out. And I want you two to be partners in it."

"When is this?" you asked, turning to Steve with brows furrowed in curiosity.

"In two days."

"Okay."

Bucky blinked.

He was surprised at how quick you were to agree. He expected you to argue against it, whine and complain about how you didn't want to go with him, list a bunch of things where he wasn't capable enough or just downright say you didn't trust him.

As if reading his mind—or perhaps he really needed to work on his poker face—you shrugged, adding, "It's a job at the end of the day. I can work with anyone and be professional about it."

You definitely did that on purpose to make him look bad.

Fucking kiss-ass.

"Good," Steve said with a smile which you irritatingly returned. "I'll have FRIDAY send you the file."

"Rogers that, Captain," you snorted at your own joke, waving your hand at Bucky before turning on your heel, your voice echoing down the hallway as you called out, "Just make sure he washes his hair! I don't want whatever's living in there to inhabit mine!"

Once you were gone, Bucky let out an exasperated sigh when Steve gave him that I'm-not-angry-just-disappointed look.

Again.

"Are you seriously taking her side?" he griped.

"I'm not taking any sides." Steve shrugged, arms crossed. "But, I mean, you called her unreliable behind her back, basically told her you didn't like her to her face, and then called her a stray which was unnecessary and uncalled for. You were kinda asking for it."

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, a few deep breaths before grumbling, "Is there really no one else available for this mission?"

"Well, I'll see if Liam—"

No.

Liam was an arrogant piece of shit agent who stared at you for far too long during training to be considered appropriate. It was obvious enough, how he saw you as a prize to be won, proof of being 'the ultimate alpha male who could tame the lioness.' Those were the exact words Bucky overheard in the gym showers and it took everything in his power not to break a jaw or two.

That idiot would bottle the whole op trying to get your attention. And judging from what Bucky knew about him, it wasn't difficult to assume that he would end up thinking with the wrong head. He'd be more of a burden to you than an actual help.

Bucky was already filled in on what the mission was about, including what you were going to be pretending as. It was one of the many reasons why he was having doubts about you two being partners in this.

After all, for the mission to be a success, you had to sell the cover first. When you both couldn't be in the same room without showing utter disdain, when all of your conversations—the rare moments that you did have one—were more or less an argument, when you didn't even like each other, how on earth would you manage to convince everyone else that you two were happily and lovingly married?

It was impossible.

So you couldn't really blame him for being doubtful.

And no, it had nothing to do with how his whole body tingled with anticipation—and maybe excitement—nor the way his heart stuttered at the thought of being your husband.

But with all that said, he would be caught dead first before he'd allow Liam to take full advantage of it and see this mission as an opportunity rather than something to be taken seriously.

"Liam is incompetent. He'll only slow her down, compromise her and end up blowing their cover. It's obvious he's going to be distracted with all the fancy shit to not do his job at all. Someone's going to get hurt because he's fucking full of himself and—" Bucky stopped when he caught the way the blond was looking at him.

Steve was smirking, proud and all-knowing, wriggling his brows as if he got the exact reaction he wanted.

It was obvious Bucky fell right into his trap.

The consequence of having a best friend who knows you too well.

"I fucking hate you, Rogers," he growled, shoulder-checking Steve as he made his way back to the elevator.

It only made the punk laugh.

"I'll see you at the briefing, buddy!"

•••

Bucky rolled his eyes when he saw the audience waiting on the tarmac two days later.

The whole team was practically present, obviously wanting to see what would happen during your first mission together with him.

It was ridiculous.

They somewhat made this whole thing between you two as a source of entertainment. It was harmless enough since they never really did anything to provoke reactions. It was wholeheartedly both your own doing. But that didn't make it less annoying.

His scowl deepened when Sam took one look at him before bursting out into rambunctious laughter. He also didn't miss the way Nat and Wanda were trying their best to hold back their giggles.

"Looks good on you." Clint nodded, grinning.

"Thanks." He rolled his eyes, instinctively running his fingers through his newly cropped hair.

It was closer to how he used to wear it back in the 40s. The long cut was starting to get in the way, even during simple, everyday errands. It was also to help him look less recognizable for this undercover mission, paired nicely with the flesh camouflage Bruce had temporarily installed on his metal arm.

Other than that, Bucky figured it was time for a change. And what better way to mark a new chapter in his life than by getting a haircut?

It definitely wasn't because a small part of him was craving your approval.

"Oh," Steve said when he reached the tarmac, blinking a few times before smiling. "It looks good, Buck."

"Why is everyone making a big deal out of my haircut?" he grumbled exasperatedly.

"It's not about the haircut," Natasha butted in, the corner of her lips curved up. "It's why you got it."

"I didn't think you'd take what she said seriously," Steve chuckled.

"First of all, I got this haircut because I wanted a haircut. That's it. Second—" Bucky glared at his best friend. "—did you tell everyone about the lice insult?"

"I didn't tell anyone!" he defended, hands in the air. "I swear!"

"He didn't. Frosty was ranting to Nat and Wanda and I just happened to overhear the best parts," Sam snickered. "But God, you need her attention so bad."

"I don't need her attention," he huffed, crossing his arms. "I very much enjoy it if it's elsewhere."

"Whatever you say, Buckaroo."

Speaking of the beauty that was the devil, you walked out of the building with Tony, his hands gesticulating wildly, probably explaining the enhancement on the outfit you were currently wearing.

A newly improved tactical suit.

Bucky cleared his throat as he ran his fingers through his hair, straightening out his gear as he tried not to stare.

But fuck it was hard.

How could he not look when the combination of Kevlar and lycra hugged your body in all the right places? At first glance, it was all black from head to toe, but underneath the light, the color would shift. There was a bluish tinge to it, the straps and belts a deep silver-blue, the combination of colors representing the likes of dark ice and frost. He couldn't see the lower half of your face, your signature mask only showing off those menacing eyes. And show them off they did because not only did the half-mask make you look even more threatening, it also made your eyes even more beautiful. The dark fabric definitely brought more attention to them, a twinkle in your irises especially when the sunlight would hit them just right.

You definitely brought two different meanings to the phrase 'If looks could kill.'

One, your death glare was definitely promising, and two Bucky had never seen someone be so beautiful, so gorgeously deadly that his heart felt like it might take him out.

He didn't realize that he was actively staring until Sam's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Damn. You're more pathetic than I thought."

Bucky shot him a glare, landing a very soft punch to his stomach before storming into the Quinjet, quickly settling into the pilot's seat. He was done dealing with the team's antics, and he knew they'd only get rowdier when you're close.

"Why is everyone here?" you said, and he could almost picture you rolling your eyes. "Why are you guys acting like you're sending your kids to boarding school?"

"Well, with how you and Terminator behave, it's not that different," Tony quipped. You must've glared at him because he was quick to add, "I'm kidding! You two are very mature adults."

"You guys are ridiculous," you snorted, boots hitting metal echoing around the space as you made your way inside.

"Have fun you two!"

"Not too much fun! I want that jet spotless when it gets back!"

"Please don't kill each other on the way!"

"Oh they grow up so fast."

Bucky rolled his eyes, shutting the latch once you finally settled yourself right beside him.

Your reasoning for the choice, he had no idea. You honestly could've picked every other available seat which was plenty. He decided not to dwell on it, stopping his mind from wandering too far into presumptuous thoughts.

But he definitely didn't miss the way you glanced at his hair.

He also didn't miss the way you were trying not to smirk.

"Stop gawking and put your goddamn seatbelt on," he grumbled, starting the jet before shrugging. "Or don't."

"You're so full of yourself," you scoffed, yet did as he said without any more protest.

"You're not as subtle as you think you are."

"M'just glad to know you actually listen to me, much less, take my advice."

"Now, who's full of themselves?" he mocked, rolling his eyes. "My haircut has nothing to do with you."

You were quiet for a moment. But he should've known better. It was something he learned lately, how you always felt the need to have the last word.

"Whatever pacifies your ego, Barnes."

Bucky could only growl in response.

•••

"Can you hurry up!" he called out after glancing at his watch for the fifth time.

He was fully dressed, in a suit and tie this time instead of his tactical gear. He'd already double-checked his weapons twice, a variety of them hidden underneath his jacket for ease of access.

And you still hadn't come out of the bathroom.

Bucky was sitting on one of the lounge chairs by the bed, glaring at the dark wood separating you from him as if it would help you be quicker with whatever it was you were doing in there.

He was about to call out again when the door slammed open, harsh and quick that it bounced off the wall.

Bucky's breath was sucked out of his lungs once he saw you in your long and fitted black dress, the silk fabric complementing your figure, a very high slit exposing your thigh, straps thin on your shoulders they might as well be non-existent and a deep V neckline to match.

He suddenly felt hot when he saw that the dress was unzipped, exposing your back from the nape of your neck all the way down, stopping just above the swell of your—

He blinked out of his haze when you ignored him completely and marched towards the floor-length mirror in the corner of the room. Your scowl was deep, irritation obvious in your demeanor as you looked for something, your back facing the mirror as you glared at your reflection over your shoulder.

"I'm going to kill Natasha for picking this dress," you mumbled under your breath, so obviously talking to yourself but without taking into account his enhanced hearing. "Who puts a zipper this goddamn small you can't even find it."

"Jesus—" Bucky rolled his eyes, standing up from his place and stalking towards you. "Turn around."

Your eyes snapped up to his, glare deadly as you hissed, "I don't need your help—"

"Get over yourself will you?" he scoffed. "We're going to be late."

"Fine," you gritted, turning around abruptly and crossing your arms. "Since you so badly want to make yourself feel useful."

Your quip went in one ear and out the other. Not because he was done with your shit—which he was—but because he was rendered speechless by what he was seeing.

There was a temptation to trace the path from the small of your back up to your spine, to feel your warm and naked skin underneath his fingertips.

But his attention was captured by something else entirely.

His lips curled into a frown as he scanned the nape of your neck. Now that he was closer, he could see the way your delicate skin was littered with scars, ones that weren't his nor was his infliction, but were familiar to him it made his chest ache.

Absentmindedly, his fingers hovered over it, close and featherlight to feel a prickle of electricity, but not enough for it to fully touch. He circled the smallest yet deepest one, right in the middle where he assumed the chip was embedded. His frown deepened as he traced the various jagged lines that started from the center, crawling down like roots and stopping just at the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

Bucky ignored the goosebumps that rose from your skin, heavily fighting the urge to kiss it.

You cleared your throat, looking at him through your periphery. "What, you've never seen scars before?"

"Those are scratch marks," he stated as a fact, voice coming out rougher than he'd intended to.

Bucky knew because he had similar-looking ones that covered his left shoulder.

Like someone was trying to claw it out of their skin.

"Yeah, well," you grumbled, shifting in your black heels. "It's not like I wanted that chip in me."

Almost instinctively, he leaned closer, lips parted, your body shivering as his breath brushed over your skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, hurriedly yet carefully zipping up your dress before walking towards the door.

"I'll wait for you outside," he said before closing it behind him without looking back.

Bucky paced up and down the hall in hopes that it would help shake the absolute rage he felt.

Not at you, but for you.

It was sudden yet burning, the anger in his blood at the simple thought of what those fucking assholes did to you. It didn't help in the slightest that he was so familiar with their methods.

It made him want to burn every person who laid a hand on you alive.

If the world managed to catch fire during that, then so fucking be it.

Bucky didn't know where it came from, the sense of protectiveness over you. It was so strong and unrelenting that it blatantly showed the second you stepped into the ballroom. From the way he'd held you closer by his side, arm secured around your waist as you mingled with guests, to his sharp glare aimed at any man who lingered too close and stared at you far too inappropriately.

He was telling himself it was part of the ruse, to sell this fake marriage to a viable audience so you could get the intel—gathering names that were connected to the Mafia, and when you're attending the birthday party of the Don, it wasn't difficult to do so—that you needed. He was watching your back like how any good partner should during missions. Even though he hated you, he wasn't cruel enough to let you get hurt. You could never know who was harmlessly flirting with you, and who was there with ulterior motives. It was better safe than sorry.

It definitely was not anything personal for him.

Despite everything, the mission went surprisingly well—smoothly even. It was impressive, borderline uncanny, the way you matched each other as if you'd been partners for years instead of this being the first.

It was easy, reading the signal you gave before Bucky made his way toward the elevators. The few moments he left you alone were enough for you to do what was needed, tempt and seduce. It was easy, a slimy yet important capo immediately taking the bait. Not that Bucky could blame him either. Nobody stood a chance when you were the one luring.

And just as the metal doors opened with a soft ding, Bucky stepped aside, letting you and the unsuspecting, inebriated man stumble in, slurring obscenities about 'getting some' as he clung to you, grumbling about 'showing you a better time than your husband.'

Bucky didn't even hide his scowl as he followed, fist slamming harshly on the button of your hotel floor. He wasn't gentle either as he injected the guy with a drug Bruce had concocted, one that made someone drunk to a point that they wouldn't remember what happened the next day while they were under the influence. Something about brain chemicals and whatnot.

Once you reached your shared room, he let you take the reins, sitting in a corner with a glass of whiskey as he watched. He wanted to see just how immersed you got when you were in your element.

And Bucky was impressed.

The way you circled that tied man, unhurried yet calculating, fingers trailing, taunting him, making him shiver in anticipation as to what you'd do next. Your voice was sickly sweet yet never less threatening as you asked questions that even Bucky had a whiplash listening to you talk.

You were like a poisonous wild berry, sweet, alluring, tempting on the outside, but downright deadly if you take a bite.

He also found it extremely hot but he wasn't going to talk about that.

It didn't take long for the man to spew out valuable information. But when he was being particularly difficult in some cases, Bucky stalked closer, shrugging his suit jacket off, rolling up his sleeves, and turning the flesh camouflage off. When the lamp on the bedside reflected on his metal forearm, it was enough to make the captive talk more.

Bucky took the liberty of doing cleanup once you got all the information you needed while you changed out of your dress in the bathroom. You were adamant about not needing his help with the zipper this time. He didn't bother to insist.

He stripped the unconscious man down to his boxers, tucking him to bed to make it seem like a one-night stand and nothing more. It wasn't like the idiot would remember much in the morning, anyway. He also made sure there was no trace of any of you in the room, checking twice to be sure he didn't miss anything.

Once everything was cleared and his bag was packed, you emerged out of the bathroom, now back in your tactical suit. You wordlessly made your way out of the hotel, Bucky right on your tail.

Neither of you spoke a word as you flew back home that same night.

The air was tense in the Quinjet.

And as much as people could argue that it was always like that whenever you and Bucky were in the same room, this time, it felt different.

Bucky couldn't just pinpoint as to why exactly that was.

The only thing he could clearly see was that you were even more guarded than before. Yet as hardened as your face was, your eyes were telling a different story. There was a distant look in them as if you were in a different place right this second.

Even as you got back to the compound and sat in one of the conference rooms for a debrief with Steve, there was still something off about you. You were quieter than usual, only speaking when spoken to. You even rushed to leave the room before Steve could fully wrap things up.

The blonde had shot him a questioning—almost accusing—look, probably also noticing your uncanny behavior. But all Bucky could do was shrug because even he wasn't quite sure as to what was on your mind that undeniably put you off.

Was it the moment in front of the mirror when he'd traced your scar? Or was it everything that transpired in the ballroom?

Having his arm around your waist, pulling you so close to his side he could practically feel your body heat through the layers of his suit, moments where he'd lean down to whisper in your ear, you masking it with a giggle as if the intel was the funniest thing he'd ever told you.

It was without a doubt the closest you two have ever been physically, pretending to be husband and wife, gazing into each other's eyes as if you were in love.

That was quite a lot for people who hated each other.

Or was that just him?

And even though Bucky was tired after the mission, he couldn't get a wink of sleep.

It wasn't from nightmares this time though—well, not his anyway.

Laying in his bed, staring at the random design engrained on the ceiling, Bucky couldn't stop thinking about what horrors you went through while you were under HYDRA's influence.

He wished his imagination was way worse than reality, that his head was making every situation far more gruesome and cruel than it truly was.

But Bucky knew better.

He knew that his imagination couldn't even come close to what truly transpired. And in this line of work, reality was always much worse.

Besides, he did live through it himself.

But knowing you had gone through something similar, somehow, it felt much more…hurtful.

Maybe this was the whole not wishing it on your worst enemies type of thing. Maybe it was an understanding. Maybe it was simply empathy. Maybe it was the culmination of everything mentioned all at once.

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

•••

"I didn't think I'd see the day where someone would actually challenge his staring problem."

"She doesn't look phased, though."

"He's definitely losing."

"I can hear you," Bucky said, loud enough for Sam and Wanda to hear but never taking his eyes off you even for a second.

"Good morning, Frosted Flakes." Sam walked over to you with a pat on the head.

You looked away from Bucky then, swatting Wilson's hand away, nose scrunched adorably with a snort, "What happened to 'Frosty'?"

"Oh no, your nickname is still Frosty," Sam chuckled. "Just sprinkling some spice every once and a while."

Bucky's grip on his mug tightened when he saw you flash Sam a genuine smile.

It's been a week since your mission together and you were back to your usual self—friendly to the team and absolutely loathing him still. As a matter of fact, you'd been acting as if the mission didn't happen at all, fully putting it behind you like a closed case.

Bucky wasn't quite sure if he was relieved or annoyed about it.

Fine.

He was annoyed because how could you be so nonchalant about the whole thing when he hadn't been able to think of anything else since?

It was infuriating seeing you so unaffected while he was still losing sleep, remembering how your warm body felt pressed up against his and the way your breath tickled the skin just below his ear whenever you whispered some information to him.

Then came the thoughts about your scars—what ifs and I hope not's with what happened to you in that facility. His chest would ache every time he closed his eyes and the image of your hurt skin would flash in his mind.

Or he'd find himself blushing like a schoolboy, wondering how things would've played out if he didn't hesitate, if he actually tried kissing it better—

"I never got to know why your alias is Frost," Wanda asked out of genuine curiosity.

"Cold-blooded killer, stone-cold heart, grew up and was trained in a cold climate, pretty basic actually. And, well," you paused, raising a brow his way. "Winter was taken."

"Can never trust someone who still goes by their name as a killer," he scoffed.

The way your whole face turned cold as you looked at him was so impressive it made Bucky's heart sting with longing.

Still, he didn't shy away from your glare.

It was only during these moments that he could shamelessly look into your gorgeous eyes, after all.

"I'm reclaiming it as my own. You give the name they gave you power, they still have control over you. Now, when I take back that power, the only one who has control over me, is me." You crossed your arms over your chest, head tilting as you added, "I think you can learn a thing or two about that, Soldat."

The chair screeched as Bucky stood from his seat, stalking towards you with a low growl. You simply turned to look at him, letting him tower over you with no ounce of fear in your demeanor. His fists clenched, vibranium arm whirring when you dared to smirk at him.

You raised a brow, chin raised high and cocky, so defiant, so bratty, it makes him want to—

"Case and point," you whispered proudly.

Before Bucky could even come up with a comeback, Steve's voice interrupted,

"Break it off." The captain walked into the room with his shoulders slumped as if he was tired of dealing with the same shit every day.

Bucky almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

"Do you have a radar for when we start fighting?" you snorted.

"Maybe," he said, brow raised at you. "Nat's been waiting for you in the training room."

"I don't need any more training," you grumbled, and with Bucky still standing quite close to you, he could almost see you pouting.

Or maybe he was just imagining it.

"There's no such a thing as too much training," Steve said in that 'captain voice' of his. "Besides, you need to learn how to hold back your punches."

"So, you're saying…" you sighed. "You don't trust me not to kill anyone?"

Bucky has never seen Steve turn bright red so quickly in his life.

"No! That's not—"

You giggled.

Bucky couldn't even begin to describe what his heart did in his chest.

You walked over to the blushing blonde, patting his chest with a bright smile. "Just messing with you, Steve."

He wasn't sure if he was jealous of the casual affection you were able to give to Steve, or the fact that his best friend got along so well with you that you might as well have known each other all your life.

Yet either thought was pushed to the back of his head as he watched you walk away in those goddamn leggings. There was always a certain sway to your hips whenever you moved, a confidence he couldn't help but be captivated by. But those goddamn gray leggings, for reasons he couldn't explain, were somehow accentuating everything that much more. From your hips to your thighs and that ass—

"Get out of my head, Maximoff," Bucky grumbled, cheeks burning when he caught the way the redhead was quietly smirking in the corner.

"I wasn't even in your head," Wanda laughed, still honoring the promise she made to him to always respect his boundaries when it came to his mind, which he was grateful for. "It's all over your face."

"You look hungry as hell, man," Sam added, grinning.

"Well, if you want to ogle more," Steve teased, smiling amusedly. "Don't you have your recruits to train?"

Bucky could only flip them off as he walked towards the elevator.

•••

Fists hitting against bags, punches blocked with precision, hisses and groans as bones met muscle, bodies landing on padded floors with low grunts, and the occasional cheers and hollers from the opposite side of where he stood.

There was quite a crowd at the training room—and by room he meant a whole floor—at this time of day. After all, it was mostly everyone's schedule for it.

It was hectic, and for someone with enhanced senses, it can be overstimulating. But Bucky had grown to learn how to focus the amount of input his brain took. Right now, it wasn't on the young boy he was currently sparring with.

Oh no.

It was over at the mats where a crowd had formed. It was like fight night, a challenge born out of pure pride and ego as to who could land even just one blow on the current victor.

You.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky watched you dance around a man who was more or less a foot taller than you. It was graceful, the way you jumped onto his shoulders, your legs wrapping around his neck before you twisted your body, using the momentum to flip the agent onto his back, tightening your thighs around his neck before he rapidly started tapping on the mat.

You barely even broke a sweat.

Bucky swiftly raised his right arm, blocking a high kick from the recruit. It was a valiant effort but it simply wasn't quick enough to surpass his enhanced senses.

"Good thinking to use a moment's distraction to your advantage," he commended, grabbing his ankle and flinging the kid over his shoulder. "But never underestimate your opponent."

He looked around his group, fresh graduates and all looking properly beaten and tired, and not just physically. None of them had ever won a spar with him. But, well, not to sound egotistical, but it was never a fair fight to begin with.

He was a supersoldier for crying out loud.

As their trainer, he could keep going. There were no breaks out there in a real fight. But then again, he has to remember that his blood was fueled differently compared to them.

Besides, his attention was most definitely elsewhere, and he kinda wants to watch a different session instead.

Was he slacking on the job? Maybe.

But hey, let's say he was simply trying not to drain the life out of the newbies.

"Great job today," Bucky said with a curt nod. "We'll continue this tomorrow."

Relief rolled over the group like a wave, and he resisted the urge to chuckle. As they all left one by one, Bucky remained at his station, leisurely sipping on his water as he watched the commotion across him.

"Do I really need to keep doing this?" you sighed at Steve after you pinned down yet another recruit who was definitely a few sizes bigger than you, swift and hard to disorient them but not enough to cause any real damage. Properly learning how to hold back your punches. "Aren't I supposed to be showing what I'm truly capable of?"

"You're getting cocky," Nat chuckled, throwing an M&M in her mouth.

"I'm not," you shrugged, yet your smirk said otherwise. You stood up, dusting your shoulder to make a show out of it. "I just want a challenge for once."

"Okay," Steve hummed, scanning the room before his eyes met his, gesturing for him to come over. "Hey, Buck!"

Here we go.

With a sigh, Bucky walked over to your group.

"Really? You want me to hold back on him?"

You couldn't have toned down your disdain even if you tried.

"Bold of you to assume you can lay a finger on me," he countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You wanted a challenge so, go ahead," Steve hummed. "No holding back this time. I'm sure Buck can take it."

"I feel insulted that he's the standard," you grumbled, hands on your hips as you raised a brow at him. "But if you're telling me not to hold back I might end up killing him."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Cute."

"Let's see if it's cute if I've got a knife down your throat."

"Jesus—" Steve ran a hand over his face before shooting you both a look. "I didn't say kill each other."

"Fine," you sighed dejectedly. "I'll try not to."

"Don't worry, Steve," Bucky hummed, smirking. "I'll go easy on her."

You were the first to attack.

Bucky expected you to go for the chest. With the short moment he observed you, that was usually what you went for when an opponent had a much larger stature than you. But surprisingly, you slid through his legs, kicking the back of his knee to make them buckle, causing him to fall forward. Catching himself on both hands, he rolled to the right just as your foot landed on where his head had been.

Is she actually trying to kill me?

He grabbed your ankle then, pulling it so rapidly that it had you landing on your chest with a cough. Before Bucky could even blink, you twisted, your leg hitting the side of his face. He stumbled back with a groan, giving you enough time to get back on your feet.

With deep breaths, you glared at each other from your places on the mat, bodies at the ready for another round.

Bucky attacked.

From the outside looking in, you two might as well have been doing a choreographed routine. You were dancing around each other, blocking some punches, landing a few kicks, and just when you thought that one had locked the other down, they'd immediately slipped from their grasp.

And this went on and on and on and on.

Nobody could decipher as to who would win this fight.

It was mesmerizing.

Bucky was impressed at the way you could keep up with him. He wasn't counting the time, but your stamina never seemed to waver. You didn't seem to have any need to catch your breath. You were definitely better than any of the agents, and dare he say it, any of the Avengers he'd sparred with.

Then again, your skills were a mixture of a Black Widow and HYDRA. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that you were simply that good.

But Bucky was better.

He was also at an advantage since The Winter Soldier's fighting style was so clearly the blueprint for your training. That was one of the things he always noticed when it came to HYDRA. When one thing was a success, they were going to run that program to the ground.

If Bucky hadn't known any better, he might as well have trained you himself.

He was able to predict your next move quite easily, already knowing what his counterattack would be before you could even land a blow.

It was making you frustrated.

Bucky couldn't help but be cocky about it.

"Killing me, huh?" he whispered against your ear once he had you in a chokehold.

Again.

"Don't tempt me to do it," you hissed, head thrown back abruptly to catch his nose.

Once his grip loosened even the slightest bit, you pushed his arm and dropped to the ground in a crouching position, spinning with one leg out to sweep him off his feet. He stumbled but didn't fall. In an attempt to keep the momentum, you tried to go for a handstand kickup, but Bucky caught your ankle before you could even complete your move, tossing you over his shoulder with little effort.

Quickly, you were back on your feet. Sweat covered your body as you heaved. There was a cut on your brow to match his bleeding nose, the bruise on your lip was looking quite similar to his, too.

Still, you looked absolutely beautiful.

But even with your fists up, seemingly ready to go again, Bucky could see your strength waning by the second, and your frustration wasn't helping you one bit.

That was always aweakness.

You will lose if you let your emotions come into play, no matter how well trained you were.

"That all you got?" Bucky taunted, arms out as he tilted his head with a pout. "He told you not to hold back, принцесса."

He hadn't meant to taunt the nickname in Russian. It just slipped out, like it somehow felt right to say it that way.

Yet the fire that lit your eyes was screaming at him otherwise—a look so raw and unnerving it made Bucky break out into nervous sweats.

It all happened so fast.

Bucky was caught off-guard when you ran to him at full speed with a growl, your knee hitting his chest with such force it knocked him onto his back. He hissed when he felt your knee dig into his rib, putting all your weight on it to hold him down. His head tilted up once he felt the cold, sharp blade against his neck.

In his periphery, he saw Nat patting herself down, eyes flickering over to the knife you were holding against Bucky's throat, her eyes wide in shock.

Natalia Alianovna Romanova, one of the world's best and deadliest assassins, didn't even notice you taking a knife from her belt.

That was how fast it happened.

"Call me принцесса again and see what happens," you said, low and menacing. You were so close, your warm breath was tickling his lips but Bucky could only focus on your eyes.

There were so many emotions swimming in them, yet the sadness was what intrigued him the most.

But before he could get a proper read, you were gone.

The next thing he knew there was a dagger flying past his head, embedding itself on the mat. He felt something warm trickle down his ear. Bucky didn't need to see to know that you'd managed to graze his skin enough to draw some blood.

A warning.

He wasn't even given the time to collect himself before you were already leaving the room, the door slamming shut behind you.

Blinking twice, only then did Bucky realize that you had managed to gather quite the audience, all of which were silenced as to what just happened.

"What'd he call her?" Sam asked, holding a packet of Skittles in one hand.

"Printsessa. It's Russian for princess," Nat explained, shaking her head disappointedly before rushing to follow you.

Bucky was confused.

He thought it was quite an overreaction to calling someone an innocent nickname.

"Right! The show's over!" Steve's 'captain voice' boomed. "Everyone back to their duties!"

Bucky sighed, running a hand over his face before taking the outstretched hand Steve was offering him.

"I don't get it," the blonde murmured once he helped him up and offered him tissues.

"What?" Bucky asked, wiping the blood off his skin.

"You and Y/N," Steve elaborated. "I really thought you two would get along so well."

Bucky frowned. "What made you think that?"

"You're basically two peas in the same pod," Steve said as if it was obvious enough.

"We're nothing alike," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"The two of you are more alike than you think."

•••

"What's all this?"

It was never common to see Steve Rogers hauling boxes out of his room on a random Thursday morning. And one glance at his open door, the space was completely empty.

"You're leaving?" Bucky pressed worriedly.

"No," Steve chuckled. "Just moving floors."

Bucky's brows furrowed. "Why?"

"Because you—"

The blonde was cut off when the elevator dinged. It was more stacks of boxes being rolled into the space. But then a figure stepped into view. Steve turned to him with a shit-eating grin.

"—are getting a new floormate."

Bucky has never wanted to punch him so badly.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me, Rogers."

His so-called best friend only smirked at him.

To most, Steve Rogers was the golden boy, America's greatest hero.

To Bucky? He was just an annoying little shit.

"Y/N," Steve greeted once you crossed paths in the living room.

"Steven," you responded, moving aside to let him and his stuff into the elevator.

"Try and don't kill each other please," he said, raising his brow knowingly.

You shrugged. "No promises."

"Be nice!" was the punk's last words before the elevator doors closed.

You didn't even spare Bucky a glance.

Instead, you just started bringing the boxes you brought with you into Steve's—well, your room.

Bucky, with no desire to help, casually leaned against the wall. He simply watched you make the repeating journey, taking box after box with you.

"Why did you agree to this?" he asked after a minute.

"Because I'm a good fucking friend, Barnes."

"What did Natasha bribe you with?"

"Fuck's sake," you groaned, dropping the box only to shoot him a glare. "Are favors for friends a new concept to you?"

"Favor? What favor?" he pushed. "Having Steve as a floormate?"

You ignored him, continuing with your task at hand.

"Why would she want Rogers to be next to her room—" Realization hit Bucky like a flying red white and blue shield. "Oh."

"Wow," you scoffed. "I knew you were dense but I was hoping Steve would've at least filled you in."

Bucky always knew that there was a little something between those two but he wasn't buying it as the only reason why Steve suddenly switched floors with you. They probably thought he wouldn't notice, but he did. Nat and Steve were the number one duo who had been trying to push the two of you to get along.

And when the tension only grew that much more after that incident in the training room, Bucky wouldn't be surprised if this whole floormate switch-up had something to do with their pursuit of making you act at least civil with one another.

"Don't worry," you said, placing the last box on the floor before meeting his eyes. "You won't even notice that you have a neighbor to begin with."

You slammed the door shut.

For the rest of the day, your statement remained true. Bucky barely heard from you at all, despite staying in his room given that it was his day off.

You were back to your ghostly ways, he supposed, keeping to yourself for the most part. But then again, it was only day one.

Unfortunately, your statement was immediately proven wrong that very same night.

Bucky was woken up by the faint whimpering he could hear through the wall.

They weren't exactly thin, but they weren't soundproof either. There was a feature to cancel out the noise and prevent it from going out, but you had to enable it through FRIDAY.

You must've forgotten to turn it on.

He bolted out of bed when he heard you scream.

Bucky was outside your door in seconds, chest heaving as he pressed his palm flat against the surface.

He couldn't bring himself to knock.

Bucky simply didn't know if rushing inside your room was going to help you, or make things worse.

So he stood there, right outside your door, eyes screwed shut as pain clawed at his chest, listening as your screams turned to heart aching sobs.

Bucky had never felt so useless in his life.

He didn't know how long he was standing there, ears on high alert as he listened to every shaky breath you let out. He only went back to his room once you had gotten calmer.

Yet he didn't quite get some sleep that night.

Bucky—unbeknownst to you and him—had grown even more protective of you.

It was an unconscious act on his part, one he didn't even realize he was doing until Sam pointed it out.

It was always him who pointed things out, unfortunately.

"Since when did you become her guard dog?" Wilson had teased him once, right as they got back to the compound after a morning run.

His actions came to him in flashes. Whether that was immediately clocking any HYDRA agent coming your way and taking them out of the equation before you could even notice, taking extra precautions on missions for your behalf, or simply glaring at any agent who even did as much as look at you the wrong way. And if they actually said something, best believe Bucky didn't make it easy for them when it came to training.

But he never acknowledged Sam's words or outwardly showed that they affected him.

He only walked past Sam with a soft punch on the arm.

•••

Living on the same floor as you was…something.

For the first two weeks, it felt like Bucky was truly alone and that nobody lived in the room next door.

But as weeks turned to a month, traces of you were slowly integrating themselves around the common area, little things that made him know more about you.

You had a few cat-shaped mugs in the cupboard that made Bucky think you were a cat person. But then on a random day, he saw an orange one which looked like a dog, its face on one side and its butt on the other. He deduced that you simply liked animal mugs altogether because he saw a raccoon one, too.

Then there was a knitted throw blanket on the sofa that smelled so much like you. It didn't take long for that to get followed by a fluffy pillow or two. All of them were one specific color but Bucky didn't know if that was your favorite one, or you simply liked to keep things coordinated. Maybe it was both.

Whether that was random knick knacks around the shelves, a DVD set by the TV, a well-loved book on the coffee table, the breadcrumbs of him having you as a floormate were starting to become apparent.

Besides that, he never truly felt like there was someone else on the same floor as him because rarely did you end up in your shared space at the same time.

If you did, you two always bickered to no end.

But as the sky turned from a shade of blue to the deep black of the night, Bucky was reminded that you were there right next to his room.

He wasn't overly fond of how the reminder was given.

Your nightmares didn't happen as frequently as he was prepared for them to be. But every other night was still a lot for one person to handle.

Bucky was yet to gain the courage to knock on the door.

It might have been creepy to just stand outside, it might as well have been cruel to do nothing while you were in distress.

But he was scared.

Not for him, but for you.

He honestly couldn't decipher whether he would be of any help or not if he just burst into your room unannounced. Because as confusing as living with you was, one thing remained clear.

You definitely still hated him.

"Can you fucking pick up after yourself?" you complained.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "It's one fucking spoon."

"Then put it in the sink!"

"Jesus fucking Christ what has that spoon ever done to you?"

"It's dirty and you're leaving it on the counter!"

"And?"

"You've got milk and cereal all over it!"

"I'm not asking you to clean it."

"But it's fucking annoying, you fucking slob!"

"Stop acting like you own this whole fucking place, printsessa."

It was truly impressive, how fast you had him pushed against the fridge with a goddamn bread knife against his throat.

It also stirred something in him but he wasn't ready to unpack that.

Bucky was holding his breath because if he did as much as relax, he knew the blade would nick his skin.

Who was he kidding, that definitely wasn't the reason he was holding his breath. He was a super soldier for crying out loud. He healed fast. A menial scrape wouldn't do much harm.

But you had just finished showering after your morning run and Bucky could smell your shampoo. Vanilla. Simple and sweet, a stark contrast to your fiery glare and the way you were holding a knife to his throat.

It was driving him insane.

"What did I say about calling me that," you said lowly.

"You know, you act so tough in front of everyone," he said, eyes defiantly glaring back at you. "But a meaningless nickname scares you this much?"

"Ne ispytyvay udachu, Soldat," you growled, pressing the knife that little bit harder.

Don't push your luck, Soldier.

Such a simple sentence yet it threw Bucky into an emotional rollercoaster.

He didn't know if it was the threat in itself, the way you spoke another language in that deep growl, or the fact that you were holding a knife down his throat but he felt scared there for a moment.

You were terrifying when you were angry.

And maybe this was such a fucked up thing to say but why was he turned on by it?

Bucky was grateful that you quickly left him alone after that. Once you were out of his enhanced earshot, he dropped his head and sighed, hoping and goddamn praying that you didn't notice the tent that had grown in his workout shorts.

It would've been so humiliating otherwise.

Shaking his head, Bucky could almost hear Sam's voice.

"Damn, you're more pathetic than I thought."

•••

The mission was a bust.

One of the most important HYDRA scientists got away and managed to take with him the files they needed to track down other facilities.

The Avengers were gathered around the forest where the Quinjet was hidden. But instead of getting aboard and being on their way home, everyone was watching a screaming match instead.

Whenever a mission would go awry, everyone would regroup in the jet to try and discuss what went wrong and how to improve it on the next mission. There were never fingers thrown around as to whose fault it was because it was never anyone's fault.

But right now, you decided to blame it on him.

"What the fuck is your problem!" You all but marched up to Bucky, shoving him hard on the chest, making him stumble back in surprise. "Do you always get a kick at sabotaging my part of the mission?"

"Sabotage?" Bucky laughed humorlessly. "I don't care about you enough to do that."

However, if someone had seen what happened beforehand, they absolutely would call him a liar right to his face.

"Oh really?" you argued, shoving him again. The action was really riling him up. "Then why are you so fucking hell-bent on meddling with what I'm doing!"

"Because I don't fucking trust you!" Bucky gritted, aggressive with no ounce of truth as he took a step towards you. "I wouldn't be surprised if you let him get away. Sure as hell looked like you recognized him."

"Wow." You shook your head, scoffing, "So we're going to pretend like I'm the only one who used to work for HYDRA here?"

"Then why didn't you catch him?"

"You shoved me away!" you yelled, hands balling into fists. "I fucking had him!"

"You were being careless!" he stated the obvious, growling when you decided to shove him out of spite. Again. "You were about to get shot!"

"So fucking what!"

That only angered him more.

"Well, I'm sorry for fucking saving your life then!"

"How was I supposed to know someone was behind me? I don't have eyes on the back of my fucking head!" you countered, shoving a finger at the Captain without taking your eyes off Bucky. "And no, Steve, my partner didn't say a fucking thing even though he was supposed to watch my back!"

Bucky will throw his hands up and admit that you were right. But he didn't get a chance to warn you about it because he admittedly got distracted by nothing else but you.

For some reason, Steve found it helpful to partner you and Bucky during missions from time to time, said it was to build up the team chemistry. He had no qualms over it the first couple few, since you two did work quite well together despite your personal animosity.

But something about today's mission threw him off—specifically, the second you managed to get a hold of that scientist whose name he was yet to learn.

Yet it was clear as day that you recognized this man.

It was the first time Bucky truly saw this darker side of you. The pure and unbridled anger that captured your whole being was mesmerizing, the low drawl of your voice akin to a siren, captivating and that much more deadly.

And your eyes.

You didn't have superpowers but they honestly looked like they were starting to catch fire as you examined the man, as if thinking about all the ways you could make him suffer, turn him inside out with as much pain as you could muster.

During that moment, Bucky realized that he would've let you scorch the earth if it meant finally getting that revenge over the people who'd made you endure years of torture.

He would've stood by your side proudly.

It both aroused and scared him.

Embarrassingly so.

By then, Bucky didn't notice the HYDRA agent until they were already too close. All that was needed was one pull of the trigger.

So in a moment of panic, he ran, straight at you and shoved you out of the way.

It was either a slight bruise on your side or a bullet to the back of your head.

Bucky didn't take any chances.

Unable to control his strength, he pushed you across the room and knocked the breath out of you. And when he finished off the agent and you still hadn't gotten up, Bucky panicked. He honestly thought he might've killed you. And as he stood there in shock, only breathing again once you let out a sharp cough, the scientist already used that slim time to get away.

Yet despite the fear he felt during that moment, and the utter shame he was harboring because he failed as your partner on the field, his ego right this second couldn't even begin to admit that it was all his fault. So, he matched your glare.

"What's the point of saying something if you won't even fucking listen?"

"You know what, sure," you threw your hands up, so clearly exasperated. "Nothing of sense comes out of that mouth anyway,"

"Maybe I should've just let you take that bullet," he seethed, anger boiling over. Your defiance and absolute lack of fear as you squared up to him didn't help by one bit. "Finally get rid of the pain in my ass."

"As if you don't like getting pegged."

"Walk away you two," Steve commanded, voice stern and void of any patience. He gave Bucky's shoulder a push. You turned on your heel then.

But Bucky was just so angry that he couldn't stop himself from muttering under his breath in Russian.

"Useless bitch."

He didn't mean it.

But you heard.

Oh you heard it loud and clear.

Bucky was sure of it because the next thing he saw was a gun pointed right in between his eyes.

"Maybe a bullet to the head will finally heal that blended brain of yours," you said, voice scarily calm, your face hardened and void of any emotion as you stared at him dead in the eye. "Or at least give justice to those innocent lives you took."

"Y/N!" Steve scolded, attempting to get you two to break it off.

But neither of you budged.

Everyone was on edge now, not entirely sure what to do next in case one wrong move would set either of you off.

"Rich, coming from you. But go ahead," he challenged, taking a step until the barrel of the gun was pressed right against his forehead. "Besides, it won't be too hard for you since you don't really discriminate against who you kill, do you? I mean, this wouldn't be the first time you killed your own teammate."

Tilting his head tauntingly, Bucky pouted. "Or was that your boyfriend?"

"Bucky!" Natasha gasped.

It wasn't the firm push of Steve's hand nor his tall stature standing in the middle that sobered Bucky up.

Oh no.

His anger left his body way before that.

The way your hand began to shake, the tremble on your lips, and the look of pure pain in your eyes was like a bucket of ice cold water.

Bucky knew that look.

He'd seen it through the mirror when a memory would replay itself in his head and there was nothing he could do except watch—the light leaving their eyes, the echo of screams, a gunshot, a body falling on the floor.

It was a look that was too familiar that Bucky felt the guilt clogging his throat because he knew he'd just managed to make you relive that specific moment over and over.

"That's enough!" Steve said firmly. "Both of you."

Bucky tried to meet your eyes, tried to immediately take back what he just said. But Natasha was already guiding you towards the jet, your head down with your arms around yourself.

"Don't," he sighed when Steve shot him a disappointed look. "I know."

Bucky followed the rest of the team after that.

The silence hung in the Quinjet during the journey home, a touch awkward but thick with tension.

You both have been forced to sit on opposite ends, as far from each other as possible. Well, forced wasn't the right word. You willingly put as much distance as you could from him, as if breathing the same air as him was out of the question.

Still, the jet felt as cramped as ever.

Rotting in his own guilt and self-pity, Bucky couldn't help but glance at you from time to time.

There was a harsh tug on his heartstrings when he saw you fiddling with the fabric of your tactical suit, flinching at the slightest turbulence or even the softest of sound. You'd never looked up once the second you sat there.

You were anxious.

He had never seen you like this before.

Mission reports could only tell so much, and when yours had been mostly redacted, Bucky knew nothing about what truly went down. Yet despite not being stated on the pages, he had an inkling that whatever your bond was with your aforementioned partner, it went far deeper than just a simple boyfriend and girlfriend relationship.

He didn't even know if it was given that label to begin with.

The worst of it all, Bucky knew that during that circumstance, you did the right thing.

And you paid a heavy price.

PART 2

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated! ++ consider supporting me on ko-fi if you can!

✉ NO TAGLIST: go follow @t-lostinlibrary and turn on notifications to get updated on my works!

© t-lostinworlds, 2024 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.

#ww&ff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes reader insert #sebastian stan #my writing

122 notes · View notes