#with a line line 'bucky this is a very dumb idea' how could it not win ??

[abuckygirlarchive]

results of the poll are in and we have a winner ! as such, have a compilation of highlights from the winning comic run ' bucky barnes: the winter soldier (2014 - 2015) ' by marco rudy and ales kot.

[justkending]

The Line-up (One-shot)

Summary: Every Avenger has a death glare they've mastered, but a few select someones on the team are the champions of staring into their opponent's souls and making sure they know there is no survival. However, these individuals aren't always intimidating in their day-to-day lives...

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger Reader (Goofy & stubborn relationship)

Word Count: 1700+

A/N: I got the idea for this one-shot from the picture above that I came across on Pinterest and couldn't stop the creative juices from flowing... Please enjoy!!

_______

Lined up in a row were the four most wanted individuals in the Avenger's history. And each one of them had their eyes set on the camera, with a slight head tilted to the side—the death stare of some of the sweetest individuals.

"Who made that?" Natasha said, coming over Peter's shoulder.

"It's just a meme," Peter explained with a nervous laugh.

"What's meme-ing about it?" Natasha quirks her head to the side as she analyzes the pictures, and Peter chuckles at her action- mimicking the ones on the screen.

"Uh, the joke is that it's a lineup of individuals who could end you without a second thought, and they all have a matching head tilt before that plan is executed." Peter watched as Nat kept her head to the side as she tried to understand the joke. He starts to point at the action but decides he likes his finger more.

"That lineup contains some of the biggest softies on the team," Nat scoffed and moved further into the kitchen, continuing her first task in the room. "Have you met Steven Grant? The guy is harmless."

"Doesn't mean they don't have a second side to them," Peter argued politely, watching her have a look of understanding to his comment, and he continued on with his homework. "The world doesn't get to see their domesticated life. They wouldn't find them so intimidating if they saw what happens on this floor of the compound."

"That I can agree with," Nat laughs, putting the kettle on the stove and making a mug of tea before heading to her apartment for the night.

"I swear to God, Barnes. If you don't get off my ass!" Y/N grumbles as she comes around the corner, shrugging her shoulder like someone was tapping on it.

"I'm not touching you," Bucky's voice was heard right after in a teasing tone.

"And presenting Case and his sidekick, Point," Nat sighs, continuing her task and leaning against the counter, watching Dumb and Dumber come in. Peter chuckles under his breath and tunes into the drama as he 'does his homework.'

"I swear to God, you're a child," she huffed, turning around promptly and swatting his hands away from her where they were hovering as if he was planning on pulling her hair. "Get away from me!"

He's laughing as he barely fights her hits and shoves her playfully away from him before going into the kitchen, leaving Y/N sulking in the living space by the kitchen.

"You would think with how many digits his age has, he'd be more mature, but every day I stand corrected," she huffs a breath through her nose with her fist at her sides.

Bucky just laughs and mutters a 'hey' to the others in the room as he moves to the fridge to have his evening bowl of cereal. Why? He liked sweets, and he'd come to enjoy the ritual of a bowl of his favorite sugary cereal on nights he worked out extra hard.

"She's mad because I beat her in a sparing match today. As if I don't do that every day," he taunts with a smirk over his shoulder as he opens the fridge for the milk and moves to get a bowl and spoon.

Peter watches as Y/N stomps promptly into the kitchen and jumps on the counter space, sitting and blocking the cabinet where Bucky's sweet treat is stored.

He hears her get comfortable and turns to see where exactly she sits.

His face grew more serious. Don't get between that man and his sweets. Everyone knew that, and Y/N knew that very well, but fire loved fire.

"Move."  

"You know damn well I can hold my own against you," she points a mean finger at him and crosses her arms as she does it.

He keeps stern eyes on her, but as always, she doesn't budge at the look. "Y/N, move."

"Make me. I'd love to prove my point," she says, standing her ground and buckled down on the counter. Dropping her legs, she leans forward and challenges him.

"You two annoy me," Nat mumbles as the kettle starts to whistle. She moves to the mug, where her tea bag is set up, and starts pouring the boiling water.

"Nat, you know for a fact I can and have taken this man down multiple times," Y/N detests, only moving her gaze from Bucky for a short second to the redhead.

"Yes, Y/N, we all know that. He's just an ass and knows that him never admitting that drives you insane," she replies, dipping her tea bag up and down after putting the kettle down.

"Well, I'm tired of it," she says cutely, frustrated. "I'm not moving until you say it. Say the truth, asshole," she moves to kick him with her foot, but he's just barely an inch too far away.

It was true, though. She had bested Bucky on quite a few occasions, and he would constantly tease her and tell her that he had let her win. She got fed up with it for a while and refused to spar with him since he pushed her buttons, but he was finally able to convince her to spar again... Today... And we're seeing how that went.

It seemed she had won the spar they were bickering about, but Bucky was still not relenting on his endless teasing.

"We talked about this, Barnes. Let her have the damn win so we can move on from your horrible attempt at flirting, and bonus, you can have your cereal and not be a grump tomorrow. Everyone wins," Nat rolls her eyes, lifting her mug to blow on as she kept dipping the bag.

Bucky acts shocked and offended at the same time. "I'm not flirting-"

Nat gives him a look, and he sneers at her before turning to Y/N.

"Y/N, move, or I'll move you myself." Now it was his turn to buckle down, but this time it was because he wanted to prove Nat wrong, at least to his audience, because clearly she saw right through him.

"No. I don't think you will," she says with a smirk on her lips after hearing Nat's comment.

"Y/N," he practically growls, and his hands turn into fists at his side, flexing to gain composure.

"Sorry, Buster. I'm not moving." Her smirk grows more, and she tilts her head with that vicious smile that shows she knows she's won.

"There it is," Peter whispers to Nat in front of him.

"There, what is?" she replies quietly.

He turns the computer around and shows the meme with Y/N, Bucky, Wanda, and Steven lined up, looking at the camera with the look she was sporting now.

She looks at it and back at the two in front of her. Bucky is now mimicking his own stare in that picture towards Y/N. It's like a live-action shot, but the context behind these looks is completely different. Even so, the challenging and deadly personalities seem to be coming out to... Play.

Bucky takes a step forward, and Y/N can tell the fight is about to start. The excitement in her eyes matches what they see on the field, with a hint of intrigue.

"I feel like we should leave because I worry we're in the line of fire for flying glass plates or something," Nat says, walking over to Peter to protect him if that scenario comes up.

"Maybe this was the push they needed," he shrugs, unbothered by the usual banter between the two. "Ha," he lets out a single laugh. "See? No one who sees this meme would know those looks would be directed towards a situation about cereal being the problem here."

"I don't think cereal is the real issue here," Nat says, eyes focused on the two.

"I'll move if you just admit that I can and have beat you on multiple occasions when we spar," she smiles smugly, kicking her legs back and forth.

Peter and Nat watch the interaction carefully and can see Bucky slowly start to give up.

"Say it..." Y/N drags out, seeing the resolve.

"You've beaten me on occasion," Bucky mumbles so lowly under his breath that only anyone with super super hearing can hear him.

"Sorry, a little louder for the people in the back?" Y/N goads him, leaning her head forward with a hand to her ear.

He rolls his eyes and sends her a straight face.

"You've bested me once or twice," he says again, just a touch louder.

"How about the whole truth now?" she leans back, preparing to jump off the counter but waiting for a confession she actually wants.

Bucky throws his hands in the air and looks up at the ceiling.

"Y/N, you have bested me more times than I can count, and I'm an asshole for saying otherwise!" he says and then looks at her. "Can you please move out of the fucking way now?!"

"Since you asked so nicely," she smiles victoriously and jumps off the counter gracefully, walking up to him and looking up at him. "Was that so hard?" she asks with a fake pout and pats his chest.

He blushes but looks away to hide the reddened cheeks, and luckily, she skips away to Nat and Peter.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," she sighs as if her banter was the equivalent of a five-hour trial. "He's about to discover I finished off his last box of Captain Crunch, and I'd prefer to keep my ass attached to my body." Bucky lets out a low growl, and without looking, she smiles and moves quickly to the exit. "Pray for me!"

"Y/N!" He shouts, slamming the cabinet and running after her as she turns the corner like a rabbit who's out of time. "You little-!"

"See, it ended up being about cereal," Peter comments once they're out of the room.

"Ended, but didn't start that way," she laughs and brings her drink to her lips.

"Why did Bucky almost run me over in the hall, and why did I hear Y/N cackling like an evil witch turning a sharp corner to the training room?" Wanda asks, her head still turned to the hall from which she had just come.

"I don't ask questions when it comes to idiots that clearly love each other," Nat shakes her head. "What are you doing here? I thought you didn't get back from your mission for a few more hours."

"Left early," she shrugs and comes in, looking at Peter's screen with the picture still on it. "What's that?"

Peter meets her eyes and laughs. "It's a whole thing."

"I have time," she smiles, tilting her head with an interested smile.

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies Forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes

[mollygetssherlockcoffee]

Do As You're Told

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Why can't Bucky just do as he's told?

Warnings: A bit suggestive but nothing crazy

Words: 770

A/N: Hello, it is I. I have returned from retirement to grace you with something which has be in my "Writing Ideas" note document for well over a year

Main Masterlist Bucky Barnes Masterlist Permanent Taglist

“I just don’t get it” Bucky shrugs, sipping at his beer as he leans back on the couch. 

“Yeah, because you’re an idiot” you nod simply, as if it was the only logical explanation. 

“Oh, for god's sake!” he throws his arms up, head falling back onto the head rest. “I’m sorry, okay? How many times do I have to say it?!”

If you were being honest, you were over it already but come on, you had to keep going, right. You have very specifically told him that he needed to go to that one particular store, on the one particular road, in order to get the right containers you needed. It was fifteen minutes by walking, five if he took his bike. 

But oh no, Bucky Barnes knows best. He went to the regular old corner store and got the cheapest containers he could find. And what happened? You had no choice but to use them - you were ready to dish up and had to leave the apartment ten minutes after. Firstly, the containers were not the right size, meaning you had to make your portions smaller. Secondly, at least a quarter of the lids did not fit properly because they were so cheaply made. And thirdly, a good number of those containers split. You were lucky that there were extra paper plates at the event otherwise you’d have been screwed.

What a waste of your time.

Still, you had gotten over it pretty quickly. Making Bucky clean up the mess had taught him a lesson. Admittedly, it had also given you a nice view of him on his hands and knees in front of you but no one needed to know of that little observation. 

Because while Bucky was a beautiful specimen of man, he was just that - a man. He was pretty, he was strong, he was smart… but he was also dumb as a bag of rocks. 

When you had first met Bucky, as a newly hired agent at the same time that he was also joining the team, you were smitten. His stoic personality quickly warmed to a cheeky side with a cute little smile. Oh, how he had made your cheeks warm in those first few months. You had tried hinting at your attraction for him, asking him out for a drink or if he wanted to catch a movie, but he always turned it into a group activity with the rest of your team. 

At first you thought that you had gotten the wrong impression. You could have sworn that he was also attracted to you, but maybe you were wrong. However, Steve had said that Bucky smiled more when you were around. He was also a lot more patient when teaching you something during training than with the rest of the group.

Either way, after the first attempt, you gave up. You buried your attraction to him deep within yourself… sort of. You couldn’t completely stop yourself from admiring him, you were only human after all. 

Years down the line, you hid your attraction quite well. Well enough to share an apartment with him in the city and not make it awkward. 

“Well, maybe you’ll listen to me and do as you’re told from now on,” you said, sipping from your wine glass. 

“Please, women don’t tell me what to do,” he scoffs. He watches your lips curl into a smile, hastily cutting you off, “Okay, they do, but not in my own apartment.”

“Oh, really?” you questioned. You settled your wine glass on the coffee table, turning to face him and tucking your leg beneath you. 

“Yes, really,” he confirms. 

Just then, the doorbell rings, pizza’s here. You both remain seated, eyes locked. The bell goes again. With a quiet sigh, you push yourself up, half standing with your knee on the couch. You lean forward, your hand lifting between you.Your hand rested under his jaw, thumb in the little dent of his chin as you lean close to him.

“Now, be a good boy and go answer the door,” you tell him. 

You fall back gracefully into the corner of the couch, your legs delicately crossed with your arms resting over the arm and back of the couch. You watch as Bucky’s mouth moves slightly, opening and closing before he breathes in suddenly, almost as if he had been holding his breath. His eyes, darkened with something unreadable, blinked as he tried to process what was being said…

And all this while he mindlessly stood up, put his beer on the coffee table, and went to answer the door.

Permanent Taglist: @buckyzwhore @tripletstephaniescp @xoxsbd88xoxox @tenaciousperfectionunknown @draw-back-your-bow @sammypotato67 @sskhair @kittenssss-blog @hallecarey1 @thegirlnextdoorssister @waywardwifey

Marvel Taglist: @stardust-galaxies @loopy-lupinn

[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

Fanfiction Writing Asks! 4, 6, 7, 8, 24, 39, 42, 61 for "Save a horse, ride a cowboy", 63 for "Eden revives in the first kiss of love", 65 for "You are the ghost behind my eyes", 67 for "Learned to walk alone".

4. How do you choose which fics to write?

Usually, it's whichever characters or storyline is speaking louder in my head with actual complete sentences that I can then write down. Anymore, I pull up multiple WIPs at once and sometimes even bounce around between them if that's how they want to play. Otherwise, the one getting written on is usually the one with the louder characters/story.

6. What’s the last line you wrote?

From the untitled multi-ship Pride collabfic with @scottxlogan. I haven't finished my part yet, but this was the last bit I wrote last night before going to bed:

“Great! Then it’s all settled,” Tony crowed and hip-bumped both Bucky and Steve on either side of him. “Hey…Maguna, you and Laura come over here for a second,” he called out to the two little girls, who just barely heard him over the music they were still swaying and bouncing to.

7. Post a snippet from a wip.

From Too weird to live, too rare to die, a Justin Hammer/Loki canon divergent fic for @kleenexwoman

“Everyone thinks that?” Loki hummed low, his thoughts as veiled as his irises. 

“No, hey...no no no.  Loki, no.  No one thinks that at all.  I was...I was just fuckin’ with you,” Justin backpedaled.  Out of instinct, he reached out, intending to pat Loki’s hand or something, just to calm and comfort him, but with his back to the door, his hands were just out of reach.  So Justin’s hand fell onto Loki’s knee.  Loki’s very bare knee as the trickster-prince had chosen, like Justin, to wear shorts on the almost five hour trek across the desert. 

He was about to pull over.  If Loki was still having some sort of crisis of friendship over his dumb quip, Justin would totally pull over to focus on fixing shit with his mission partner so they didn’t go pear-shaped from their goal. 

Then Loki’s hand fell on top of Justin’s. 

“You’re fine.  And I know you were just fucking with me,” he replied, letting Justin off the hook.  “I am well aware of where I stand with the Avengers now, and as such they consider me one of them.  Oh dear, you really will need to get used to me, won’t you?” 

It took a moment for Loki’s words to really wrap around Justin’s mind.  First off, he was intensely focused on the road and keeping all possibility of crashing Tony’s pretty baby into a sign post or something.  Second...well, second...

Loki’s hand is really warm.  Like yeah, it’s super cool to the touch, too, but it’s warm.  Or maybe I’m warm and he’s cool, but my stupid inconvenient attraction is making me warm, and I canNOT wreck this car holy fuck this mission is so important and are we even making good time?

Justin cleared his throat and shifted a little in the driver’s seat, hoping he didn’t look too much like he was fidgeting and nervous.  His hand remained sandwiched between Loki’s thigh and his hand for three, four, five breaths longer before he felt the road breeze blow across it and realized that Loki had moved his hand away.  When he glanced over, hoping that the guy wasn’t pissed at him – for what, he had no idea, but Justin had gotten so used to his day to day world being filled with people pissed off at him that he was always more surprised when they weren’t – but what he saw, namely Loki with his arms stretched up and his hands tucked behind his head like he was Tuggle Carpenter in Where the Boys Are, and yeah, Justin could be TV Thompson if asked just right. 

Wait, did I lose the metaphor somewhere along the way?

Another burst of nervous chuckles tumbled out of Justin while he clutched the wheel again.  They’d just made it out of Barstow without even noticing the city itself, though Justin had managed to keep to the proper speed limit. 

“Once again, Loki, you’re right.  I do need to get used to you.  I kinda need to do that with everyone.  Been running on first impressions and rumors and hearsay cuz I didn’t think any of you wanted me in your space,” he conceded, stepping on the gas a little more to push back up to highway limits. 

“You hide from everyone first because you don’t expect them to take to you.  To want you around,” Loki surmised. 

“You do that when you first joined up?  Though as I understand it, you were pretty banged up at first.” 

8. Post an out-of-context spoiler from a wip.

From The House in the Mist, a Scogan Lovecraftian horror fic, spoiler:

Logan really just wants to set fire to all those weird fucking mushrooms - eyes? They have eyes?

24. How do you choose whose POV to write in?

Usually I don't choose a POV for most fics as the thoughts will bounce back and forth between characters, but like in the Justin/Loki fic I mentioned above, while it's that all seeing eye sort of POV, there's a lot of Justin's inner thoughts and dialogue, and that's just because he's the one pushing those thoughts out louder right now. So yeah, it's whomever is the loudest who gets their POV emphasized and when.

39. What’s your most self-indulgent wip?

I was about to say Too weird to live, too rare to die because I'm hammering the Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas references a little hard in certain areas (and I mean, how is it not utterly self-indulgent? I'm writing Justin/Loki ffs, and given that the only other person on the planet right now that ships them is @kleenexwoman not to mention that the relationship tag on AO3 only has my two fics in it so far), but the more I thought about it, I think my most self-indulgent WIP is Hemipheres, a Frostiron fic that is a huge fix-it for so many things. Or will be even further into it I get. And it's also self-indulgent because I'm taking my time with it, which has naturally gotten me a comment about abandoning the fic. *eyeroll*

42. What’s your favorite title that you’ve come up with?

Of titles that I actually came up with (and not just borrowed song lyrics or lines of poetry), there's two:

Never Piss Off a Telepath; Or How Logan Opened His Mouth and Said a Stupid Thing

and

The Deflowering of Ferret Face (my one and only M*A*S*H fanfic)

61. In Save a horse, ride a cowboy, what’s your favorite scene that you wrote?

A toss-up between Scene 3, where Loki (on Steve's request) rescues a stranded Bucky and Tony at an inopportune moment, and Scene +1 where Bucky and Tony finally get their uninterrupted time together.

63. What was the hardest part of writing Eden revives in the first kiss of love?

There wasn't really much that was hard to write in this one. I think I'd decided before I even started that Emma was going to have replaced Charles in helping Scott to run the school and that she'd be one of the first reveals (after trans Kit Pryde). No, this one was pretty smooth sailing from the start.

65. If you wrote a sequel to You are the ghost behind my eyes, what would happen in it?

I don't know. This would be a weird one to do a sequel to given that two of the main players are dead. Well, one of them was already dead and a ghost. But maybe the sequel would be Tony getting Steve to Valhalla where Loki and Nat are waiting for them, so it'd be a really self-indulgent fic of just one big sweet reunion between those four and maybe them gossiping on what everyone else is doing if they ever 'visit'. LOL

67. If a fic was titled "Learned to walk alone", what would this story be about/how would you write it?

This feels like a Frostiron fic with parallel views of Tony's early life and Loki's early life and where (while they obviously had some people in their lives helping them - Tony had Edwin and Ana Jarvis, and Loki had Frigga) they both had to learn to be self-reliant because the people they should've been able to lean on, to learn from, to have as guides (Howard, Maria, Odin, Thor, etc) were never there for them. But how that path they'd chosen to be self-reliant led them to each other where they could both rest, relax and trust and rely on each other.

Thanks for the asks!

Fanfiction Writing Asks.

[mediocre-daydreams]

Hey 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Can I request

“Do you trust me?” “No”

“You flinched”

“because i’m in love with you, isn’t that obvious?”

i've been wanting to write a taylor fic for a while and rep is my all-time favorite album; thus, this mess. i'm not sure how i feel about it tbh i wrote it in two parts and both times i was multitasking so,,, i think the ridiculousness of it all will make up for it

𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞

bucky barnes x avenger! reader

inspired by delicate (not taylor's version, unfortunately)

notes: reader dumb asf, friends to lovers/mutual pining but x10 idiocy factor, literally just crack with a side of *stupid* angst, swearing, brief suggestive language, bucky's actually the worst communicator EVER, natasha and wanda mean well but don't give the best advice (but we love 'em always)

w/c: 4.1k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

this ain't for the best my reputation's never been worse, so you must like me for me

“this is useless,” bucky complained, flopping himself onto the couch, next to you—which was a bad idea, because the man was 6’3 and nearly 250 pounds. you felt yourself bounce as the cushions sunk under his weight.

“holy- watch where you’re sitting, barnes!” you scrambled back into your previous position, trying to regain your dignity as if you hadn’t just been catapulted simply because of a super soldier sitting down.

“this whole amends thing is bullshit,” he groaned, waving his hands in the air out of frustration. “i mean, i go up to people all sunshine and smiles and i’m like, ‘hi, i’m bucky, i’m here to make amends,’ and then they’re all like, ‘fuck you, asshole!’” he threw his face into his hands and groaned.

you stifled a laugh. “you look like an overgrown toddler right now.” it was true—his bottom lip was jutting out, he was slumped in his seat, and every once in a while he’d sigh or mutter something negative audibly like he was throwing a mini temper tantrum.

“who looks like an overgrown toddler?” natasha rounded the corner and smirked when she saw bucky and his pity party. “oh yeah, i see it.”

bucky rolled his eyes. “this is ridiculous. do you know how sore my cheeks are? i’m trying my fucking best here, and all i got today was glares, a cup of coffee thrown at me, and the middle finger from two grandmas.”

“your own people, turning against you.” you patted bucky’s shoulder reassuringly. “there, there. we’re still here for you.”

“gee, thanks,” he grumbled.

natasha covered her mouth to hide the knowing smile on her face. she was the best spy in the world, but the only thing that could make her break was watching you and bucky interact. neither of you was aware that you were very obviously teetering the line between teammate and soulmate. there was no in between, just a precarious tightrope walk.

“alright, you bums. tony’s hosting another one of his galas-”

“actually, it’s an extravaganza,” tony corrected, sauntering in with his yellow sunglasses perched at the tip of his nose as he checked off items on his holographic pad. “and attendance is mandatory. i will be marking lates and absences.”

tony didn’t even look up from his device when he said, “and yes, barnes, that includes you. consider this a part of your whole… making amends thing.” tony finally looked up from his screen to make intense eye contact with the three of you. “fabulous! i’m glad we’re all on the same page. 7:45 sharp; dress nice.”

with a snap of his fingers and a call for JARVIS, tony was gone as quickly as he had butted in.

natasha grimaced. “right. what i was going to suggest was that bucky takes a plus one. you know. breaking news: winter soldier has a heart! winter soldier, the secret romantic! bucky barnes, giving tony stark a run for his money as the womanizer of the decade?”

bucky looked uncomfortable. “sure…” he dragged out. “yeah, i’ll think about it. thanks a lot, natasha.”

we can’t make any promises now can we, babe? but you can make me a drink

your eyes flickered between the two of them and the thick tension laced in their glares. was this Sexual Tension™? you jumped up from your spot and excused yourself hurriedly, speedwalking to your room at an awkward mid-speed gait.

natasha had basically asked bucky out right in front of your face. great. what were you supposed to do, tell her to fuck off and let you make a fool of yourself in front of bucky? tony’s parties were never your scene anyway; natasha had much more grace and composure. bucky and natasha made sense. they had similar backgrounds, were equally sharp-minded, and admittedly, the both of them were very, very beautiful.

you buried your face into a pillow and screamed. technically, the rooms were soundproof, but it was more dramatic that way. at some point during your toddler-esque fit (bucky was rubbing off on you), you were struck with a brilliant idea. what you needed was a movie-style makeover montage.

you and wanda had always worked together perfectly. it was like you could read each others’ minds. well, wanda literally could, but you could do it…hypothetically? she was more than thrilled to help you get dolled up.

“i have snacks!” wanda squealed, running into your room with bags of gummies and packets of chocolate-covered pomegranate seeds floating behind her. (you had a unique taste in candy, so what?) she wiggled in place as she examined your setup with nothing but pure delight in her eyes.

wanda came up behind you while you were fiddling with your laptop and her enthusiastic but sudden exclamation made you jump. “ohmigosh, are we going to watch the bootleg version of legally blonde the musical? you know me so well,” she swooned, “that’s my favorite broadway production!” 

wanda flitted between the various products you’d laid out in your bathroom. you’d prepared it all—an army of nail polish bottles, mountains of glittering jewelry, and heaps and heaps of makeup products that you’d probably never finish in a lifetime.

“bucky is gonna freak when he sees you!” wanda said decisively as she brushed your hair. you examined yourself in the mirror with a frown.

“wan, i’m pretty sure he and natasha are going as a couple.” you fidgeted with a stray piece of hair and wanda grabbed your hand before you could do any more damage to her styling.

“don’t fidget. you only do that when you’re really upset.” wanda sighed, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “i’m sorry, babe. i really thought- well, i’ll just say this is a surprising development for me too. i can’t really promise you anything without totally invading bucky’s bodily autonomy and forcefully and very immorally looking through his private and most intimate thoughts, but i really did- do think you have something there.”

you smiled sadly, unconvinced. “thanks. it doesn’t matter anymore, though. what’s done is done and i’m not going to cry over spilled juice.” you pursed your lips. “even if i really like orange juice…” you huffed.

wanda didn’t correct you. you were already pretty upset.

“hey, chin up a bit! you still get to go to the party with the hottest date ever, me,” she gestured to her body. “and, i mix a mean drink. none of that bartender nonsense. i’ll whip up something way better for us. what d’you say? wanna get totally trashed and embarrass ourselves in front of stuffy businessmen?”

you cracked a smile and looked up at wanda mischievously. “hell yeah. and let’s crack out the kazoos.”

is it cool that i said all that? is it chill that you’re in my head? ‘cause i know that it’s delicate

you were hopping around on one foot, still trying to put on a shoe, as you left your room and crashed into the most delicious-smelling wall you’d ever crashed into.

“bucky?” you squeaked, feeling your face heat up.

“hi, doll.” he smiled down at you fondly and helped you steady yourself before he got on one knee to help you with your shoe. you knew bucky ran warm, but you swore there was a heat in his cheeks too.

“you look b- you are beautiful,” he muttered, just loud enough so you were the only one who could hear it. you gulped, feeling like bucky had suddenly adopted wanda’s abilities to mind read from the way his blue eyes searched your face as if he was admiring art.

“you look okay, i guess.” you poked him in the chest. “c’mon, i’m sure nat’s waiting for us.” you ignored the pang in your chest as you said natasha’s name, but it was totally because you were just hungry.

“i’m hungry,” wanda whined, able to sense your distress and quickly changing the subject. “do you think tony got a fondue machine?” her strides had widened as she lauded on and on about the potential food options, picking up her pace at each mention of a different dish.

soon, there was good distance between bucky and you and a very distracted wanda. your eyes were fixed on wanda’s back, but you weren’t oblivious to the way bucky’s gaze was glued to the side of your face.

“doll, can i talk to you real quick?” he placed a gentle hand on your arm and you froze, whipping around to finally look at him with wide, doe-like eyes. you snatched your arm out of his grasp only moments after, walking down the hallway faster than before.

bucky’s face fell. he’d opted not to cover his metal arm that night, but he was beginning to regret that decision. he couldn’t tell how much of your avoidance was due to his arm or from some other unknown reason, and he wasn’t sure which was worse.

“no, wait-” bucky jogged to catch up to you, but you only threw an anxious glance over your shoulder. when you locked eyes, you stiffened. bucky was perplexed. he couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong.

“sweetheart, why are you running from me?” he cooed, giving you distance but wary that you’d run from him again.

“it’s nothing, buck. i’m just… menstruating,” you lied.

“no you’re not.” bucky looked at you pointedly. “i know because we always do movies and chocolate on the 20th, and it’s the 5th. so… ‘fess up.”

“i-” you smiled weakly. “seriously, it’s fine. c’mon, you heard tony. i’m not getting marked late and ruining my perfect attendance record.”

--

bucky watched as you dashed off, throwing open the doors to the center of the party, leaving him alone and dejected in the hallway. well, not for long. natasha, in a slinky silver dress, snuck behind him silently and coughed. bucky shrieked yelped.

“you’re actually so pathetic.” natasha crossed her arms. “i literally asked her out for you and you’ve somehow managed to make her run away from you?”

bucky shriveled under her piercing disappointment. “what are you even talking about?” he grumbled, kicking an imaginary stone.

“you were supposed to ask her to be your plus one, idiot.” at this point, natasha seemed more upset than bucky, who had already resigned to the fact that he’d be forever alone.

“but you said that was a suggestion,” bucky retorted.

“you should know by now that anything i say, whether it be phrased as a suggestion or not, is mandatory. do better, barnes.” natasha puched bucky in his [flesh] arm before quirking her head thoughtfully.

“i think there’s still a way to salvage this. all you have to do is ignore her, so that she’ll wonder where you are, and then-”

“natasha, that is entirely a contradiction,” bucky interjected.

“buchanan, don’t you trust me?” natasha snapped.

“absolutely not. and don’t call me that.” bucky tried to stand taller and puff out his chest to assert dominance (to hide the fact that he was absolutely clueless on modern courting strategies), but natasha was unimpressed.

“i’m going to pretend i didn’t hear that, because i’d quite like for you to show up to the party in one piece. and don’t think it’s because i’m soft on you. i just think you’d make a good couple and i’m bored,

“so, like i was saying. you disappear, all mysterious and broody. that should be easy enough for you. then, she’ll think, ‘where are you?’ so she’s either going to text you or call you, and that’s when you invite her over. make sure you’re somewhere in the back… preferably dark and a bit secluded.”

bucky was incredulous. “you do realize i’m trying to get her to like me, not tyring to kill her, right?” his trust in natasha, which was already nonexistent, was somehow continuing to deteriorate.

“gramps, i’ve gotten more action in the past year than you’ve had in your entire life.” natasha flipped her hair. “anyways, she already likes you, dingus. i don’t know why…”

natasha stole a look towards the glass doors, which revealed tony’s extravaganza in full swing. she patted bucky’s arm patronizingly. “you’re not trying to get her to like you, alright? you have to show her that you feel the same, because full offense, you’ve been absolutely shit at expressing your feelings. have you always been like this? or did 40s girls just have low standards?”

natasha sauntered off, leaving bucky alone and confused in a hallway once again. he steeled himself, pushing back his shoulders, before stepping through the doors and into the party scene with determination.

he immediately deflated when he caught sight of you, hand resting delicately on top of some shmoozing billionaire (or so he figured), laughing gracefully at something the man had said which probably wasn’t even that funny anyways.

natasha’s step one suddenly became much easier. he had no inclination to chat up some new money assholes who’d probably end up badmouthing him to the press the next day, even if it meant being by your side. he stealthily (or as stealthily as one could for a hulking serum-enhanced man) maneuvered through the excessive crowd to the open bar that he was planning on living off of to survive the night.

third floor on the west side, me and you handsome, you’re a mansion with a view do the girls back home touch you like i do?

“a whiskey, neat,” bucky said, absolutely emotionless, as he slid into a booth. the bartender, who was horrible at hiding their expressions, seemed to cower in bucky’s presence. bucky took advantage of that. 

“and make it fast,” he glowered. it was only when the bartender gave bucky a little salute, addressing him by his military title, that bucky smiled for the first time that night. maybe this party wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

“buck!” you screamed into his ear. you were kneeling on the seat from the booth behind him, leaning over the divider so you could make sure you were close enough to shatter his eardrums. he let out a high pitched squeal very masculine sound of being startled. 

“aw, did i scare you?” you hopped the booth divider and slid in next to him. the booths were unusually small and bucky was unusually large, so you were essentially halfway on his lap. bucky didn’t know how you could be so nonchalant about it. he felt like he was going to throw up. or that other parts of his body were going to go up.

“n-no,” he insisted; his chin was pressed against his neck.

“that’s such a lie, bucky. you flinched.” bucky tried to protest, but you wouldn’t have any of it. “no, you definitely did! admit it, i surprised you.”

reluctantly, bucky conceded. “okay, maybe i was caught off guard. but i was busy looking for my girl, so whose fault is it really?” he was proud of his answer until he remember what natasha had advised him. 

“make sure you disappear, all mysterious and broody.” well, great. it’d been less than 10 minutes. “she’ll think, ‘where are you?’ and that’s when you invite her over.” you’d found him before he could even make a move. the step which he anticipated would be the easiest had already been blown.

“your gi- oh, that reminds me, where’s nat?” your golden demeanor seemed to dampen for just a moment before you perked up again, looking up at bucky with those infinitely deep eyes. he gulped. wasn’t he supposed to be the one with the mesmerizing “steel blue” eyes? you were completely unfazed. this was not going his way, not at all.

“she’s in the bathroom… menstruating, “ he lied, regurgitating your excuse from earlier. you narrowed your eyes at him disbelievingly.

“oo…kay. well, that sucks. she’s gonna miss out on the caviar gun.” you nodded your head towards a man in a bright, coral-colored suit, who was indeed holding a bedazzled sniper rifle (whether it was real or a prop, bucky was too far away to tell) and shooting caviar like bullets into an eagerly waiting crowd. bucky wanted to say that he was surprised, but he wasn’t. this was a stark event, after all.

bucky’s attention was broken as you gasped animatedly. “you used to be a sniper in the 40s, right? we should ask the man if you can try it out!” bucky blushed as he felt your soft hand take his large, calloused one in his. 

(he’d once asked you how you kept your hands so well maintained. you’d recommended him some obscure brand of floral lotion. he was wearing it today.)

bucky tried thinking back to what natasha had advised him. “make sure you’re somewhere in the back, preferably dark and bit secluded.” he glanced over at the steadily growing crowd at the caviar-fest. that was literally the opposite of what he’d been told to do. c’mon bucky, you already fucked up step one. you have to pull through with step two.

“actually, i think natasha, uh, wanted me to get her a drink,” bucky blurted. your lips twitched enticingly for a brief moment as if getting a drink was personally offensive to you or something, but you nodded anyways.

“you’re, um, a good date,” you stammered, looking anywhere but at him. bucky blushed. was he winning you over? “natasha’s lucky to have you.”

bucky wanted to die. this was worse than when he fell off the train.

“oh doll, i keep meaning to tell you that-”

“here’s your whiskey, sergeant bucky barnes- shit, james- seargent buchanan barnes. sir.” the bartender pushed the glass towards bucky hastily, their face pale and sweaty. you eyed bucky with suspicion.

“what did you do now, huh? always getting into trouble without me,” you joked, with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. he sighed, tapping his fingers against his drink, leaving nervous fingerprints in the condensation. it was rare to see you so… guarded. you were the person who’d taught him how to feel freely and embrace vulnerability. now, you were the one putting up a front.

“i’ll admit, you are a good influence on me.” bucky waved the bartender over once more, who scurried up to the two of you instantaneously.

long nights with your hands up in my hair echoes of your footsteps on the stairs stay here, honey, i don’t want to share ‘cause i like you

“w-what can i do for you today?” the bartender forced the words through their teeth, mouth locked in a fake smile.

“what do you want, sweetheart?” bucky’s tone took a complete 180 as he looked down at you fondly, though you weren’t paying attention. you were more concerned about the bartender who looked like they were on the verge of a heart attack, swaying back and forth.

“i’ll have a… um, i’ll have whatever he’s having,” you smiled sweetly at the flustered bartender, who’d regained color in their cheeks at your comfortable tone. 

bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulder, sending you into a dizzying haze of his cologne. “why are you still here? you heard m’girl,” bucky glowered. 

you shot him a disapproving glare. “first of all, you’re supposed to be here working on bettering your reputation. second of all, you really should stop calling me ‘your girl’ if you’re out here with nat, i don’t think she’d be comfortable with-”

“can you just shut up for a second?” bucky removed his hand from your shoulder and slapped his forehead. then he realized how rude he looked.

bucky had been worried about you earlier because you’d clearly been hiding your emotions. but it seems like he’d only exacerbated the issue, because now there you were, biting your bottom lip in an unsuccessful attempt to stop it from wobbling. you were unblinking and bucky knew the glassiness in your eyes wasn’t because they’d been open for too long; rather, that you were tearing up and didn’t want to release them.

he really was good at fucking things up, wasn’t he?

“oh, doll, i didn’t mean- shit, i’m so sorry, are you crying? i didn’t mean to make you cry, i must’ve sounded like such an asshole just then,” he prattled, holding his hands up in surrender as he tried to undo all the damage of the night.

“no, no, it’s fine!” you laughed fakely. (thank god you were an avenger. you’d be a horrible actor.) “i didn’t mean to cling on to you the entire evening, i imagine nat’s wondering where you’ve been. how inconsiderate of me! i hope everything’s still okay between us?” your voice was almost an octave higher than normal.

“listen, i-”

“and i’m totally going to get out of your hair now—your hair looks really good by the way, really soft—and you can go have a super fantastic time with nat! um, let her know i have tampons if she needs any. okay, bye!” 

the bartender had perfect timing. well, perfect for bucky, and unfortunate for you.

“here you are, ma’am! i wish the beautiful couple a beautiful night.”

that only made you more upset. bucky was very bad with crying people.

“you know what? let’s go. we need to talk.” bucky stood and grabbed your forearm, marching towards the dark, secluded place in the back that he should’ve gone to from the start. 

you trailed behind him without protest, quickening your footsteps to keep up with his steady, determined pace. “hey, watch it! these are louboutins!”

bucky all but shoved you into a seat. he stood over you for a few loud heartbeats before he sank into a chair of his own, massaging his temples with exhaustion. “alright. you are not allowed to leave that chair until you hear me out,” he growled. the soft tone he only reserved for you was gone.

“you really piss me off sometimes.” that was a rough start for bucky. it was pretty apparent that he wasn’t the most feely-feel of a guy. “yeah, you do. and y’know why? because you’re so- you’re so you.”

you looked at bucky like he’d gone insane. that was a fair assessment. bucky felt like he’d gone insane too, with the way he’d stopped having any control of what came out of his mouth.

“you do this- this thing, where you’re so optimistic about everything except for when it comes to yourself. you see the best in people—even me, for fuck’s sake—but you can’t see it in yourself. the whole fucking night, i’ve been trying to tell you that i’m not with natasha—don’t give me that look—but you keep running away from me because- because why? ‘cause you don’t believe that in any universe, i’d want to be with you? because you’re wrong!” bucky was flushed and his voice had gotten much louder since the start of his impassioned declaration.

“and you pretended to be happy for me, even though you clearly weren’t happy—yeah, that’s right. i could tell. you’re a shitty liar—because you’re just the kindest, most selfless, the most deserving person i’ve ever known. and i’m one hundred-fucking-six years old. you deserve the world, doll, but it’s like you’d rather give yourself up for the world. nothing could replace you.”

bucky slipped out of his seat to come sit on his knees before you. he took your hands in his, resting your intertwined fingers on your thighs. “nothing could make me feel the same way i feel about you,” he whispered. 

neither of you said anything. in the dimness of the corner the two of you were tucked into, he could vaguely make out the fluttering of your lashes, clumped together from the tears that’d soaked into your makeup. he could see your parted lips, swollen from having been bitten and chewed at this entire time. he could even feel your breath on his face, and at that moment, it was as if the air of your soft exhales that tickled his cheeks was the only air left in the world—like you were his only source of oxygen, and that he couldn’t survive without you.

sometimes i wonder, when you sleep are you ever dreaming of me? sometimes when i look into your eyes i pretend you’re mine, all the damn time

“that was a lot of swearing,” you hiccuped, eyes wide and brows furrowed. you shook your head in perplexion as your eyes flickered between his, like some possessive marking of a predator who knows they had their prey entirely under their control. “i don’t- i don’t get it.”

bucky wanted to choke you out. (not in a literal, violent manner! or in a sexual one, for that matter! at least, not in this context.) you were so stupid. how did you still now understand?

“isn’t it obvious?” he chuckled humorlessly. “i’m in love with you, idiot.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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taglist: (comment to be added!)

@bambamwolf87 @yourallihave @im-a-slut-for-fluff

[gotnofucks]

Midnight Adventures

Pairing: soft!dark!Steve x Reader

Summary: He thinks you’re trying to escape him, even though he’d made it clear who you belong to. Though the truth is far more innocuous than that.

Words: 2.1k

Warning: Dub-con, past non-con implied, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, smut, language. 18+ ONLY

A/N: Inspired by this ask I got . Finally getting back to writing in more than a month. 

He was going to tie you to the bed and never let you free. Anger flowed through his veins as he sneaked into the museum, looking around for you. Sam and Bucky snickered behind him, and he resisted the urge to flip them off.

“Cap, can you see any heat signature?” He asked Sam. Sam looked around, turning this way and that until he pointed at the hall on the right.

“That’s your girl right there Steve.” Sam answered, his shield reflecting the dim lights of the museum back. Steve nodded, asking them to stay back and hold off any cops who came in while he went in and got his girl out. Bucky had disabled the alarms you had triggered, but he was sure the place was about to be swarmed with authorities any second now. He had to get you out before that happened.

His feet barely making a sound, he entered the room Sam had pointed and glanced around. The only light streaming in was from the windows, and Steve could see your silhouette moving against one. You were muttering to yourself, stumbling over your own feet as you moved about. He let his gaze wander around the room before fixing it on you again.

You hadn’t realized he was there yet, too lost in your own world. Stepping closer, Steve stood directly behind you and turned his flashlight over you, clearing his throat. You screamed, turning around to look at Steve with a frantic and guilty look in your eyes. Steve opened his mouth to set you straight when he finally caught sight of what you were doing, and he stood there dumbfounded.

It seemed like you were stealing soil. One of the display cases was smashed open and you were transferring the grey soil in there into a glass container in your hand. You stilled, stopping midway in taking more soil as Steve stared at you in utter confusion.

“What on earth are you doing?” He asked, flabbergasted. You gulped, tentatively sealing your jar and putting it back inside the small bag on your back. You stood before him, guilty as small child caught sneaking cookies from the jar. Steve turned his head a little as distant sounds of feet reached his ears. The cops were here.

Without waiting for your answer, he grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to him, his eyes narrowed at you. His arms went around your waist, tugging you right into his body as he silently maneuvered you both towards the exit door at the end, peeking out. Two armed cops were coming this way, the faint sounds of grunts telling him that Sam and Bucky had a few others engaged out in the hall.

“Hold on, and don’t scream.” He whispered in your ear and you nodded, holding him around his neck. He walked over to the window and looked down at the deserted street. Pressing your head into his chest, Steve took a deep breath and jumped out. The wind rushed through your hair and you muffled your scream into his shirt, nails digging in his flesh as he landed swift as a cat on the road.

Without wasting a second, he took you and jogged away, the dark not deterring his steps. You tried to keep up with his large strides, dread and thrill of the chase coursing through your veins. A minute later, a familiar black car pulled up before you, Sam grinning at you from behind the wheel.

“Oh honey, you are in trouble.” He smirked, letting you and Steve in the backseat. The police sirens faded away as you all drove back towards the Avengers compound, Steve’s hand still wrapped around your arm. You chanced a glance at him, shuddering at the sheer anger on his face. Shit. You were a goner.

Steve dragged you back towards his room, ignoring his giggling friends behind. You ducked your head and followed him in silence. It was never a good idea to argue with him. Once inside, he locked the door and turned to you, a frown deepening the lines on his forehead.

“What the hell have I told you about trying to escape?” He growled, body tight with tension. It had been a while since he’d been this pissed at you, and you shivered.

“I wasn’t escaping.” You said, nervously shifting on your feet. Steve came closer to you before tilting your chin you, making you look him in the eyes. His eyes were dark and hard, a promise of punishment rolling in them like waves in an ocean.

“Then what the hell were you doing in that museum? You ran away!”

You shook your head desperately, clutching his shirt in your hands. It had been months since you last tried to escape. You knew how futile it was to keep trying. You could never overpower Steve, not with Bucky and Sam always by his side. You’d made peace with your situation a while ago. Steve had snatched you, had kept you by force. And you accepted it as your life. You’d almost come to…enjoy it even.

“I promise you Steve, I didn’t run away.” You implored, looking deep into his eyes so he could see the truth in yours. Unless you did something really drastic, Steve rarely ever got angry with you these days. It was scary to have him so pissed again.

“What were you doing in that fucking museum?” He asked again. You bit your lip before pulling out the jar of soil from your bag, offering it to Steve. He looked at it and then your face, which curiously held embarrassment along with guilt there.

“I was stealing Lunar Soil.” You admitted, shaking the jar slightly so the fire particles in there shifted. Steve blinked at you before taking the jar and examining it, confused.

“Why?” He asked, putting it aside. You didn’t answer and he scowled, stepping closer and closer until he backed you into the wall and stared you down. Running a finger down the side of your face, he brought his lips to yours in a dangerously soft kiss, his other hand balanced beside your head. “You know I have ways to extract information from you. Would you rather I resort to them?”

You gulped, half in fear and half in anticipation. Steve’s punishments were as much a torture as they were pleasure. He was your captor, but he was also the man who would scale every corner of the earth to give you what you want. His body had a way of making you crave his touch, an intimate solace for whenever your mind turned to how helpless your situation really was.

“I – I wanted to –” You stuttered, suddenly shy and mortified. Steve hummed and urged you to go on, his hand gliding down your side to cup your ass. You slowly peered into his face, scrunching yours nose. “I wanted to use it to make moonscreen.”

Whatever he expected you to say, Steve did not expect it to be that. He raised a brow at you, silently asking you to elaborate and you flushed, pressing your face into his chest to hide from his screening gaze.

“Moonscreen, it’s like, you know, sunscreen but for werewolves.” You said at last. Steve’s hands stilled from kneading your ass, a sort of stunned silence between you both. And then he growled low in his chest. He pushed you away to face you, incredulously staring at you.

“Did you run away from my bed in the middle of the night to steal something for a mythical creature?”

You pouted, playing with the button on his shirt to avoid looking in his angry eyes. It was all Peter’s idea anyway, but he was too much of a wimp to steal the Lunar soil himself. It wasn’t fair how you were bearing the brunt of Steve’s anger alone.

“They are not.” You counted softly. “Werewolves exist.”

Steve gave a strangled groan before crashing his mouth on yours, digging his fingers in your soft flesh as he carried you to the bed and dropped you on it. You moaned, kissing him back as he tore through your clothes like a man possessed. His hands were everywhere, mouth leaving a trail of sinful fire as it moved from your shoulder to your chest.

Your hand went behind his head when he sucked a nipple into his mouth, back arching as you urged him to go faster. Wiggling, you untangled your pants from around your knees, wrapping your legs around Steve. He sat up and stripped quickly, covering your naked body with his again. There was a frenzy in his actions, an urgency to have you closer.

Quickly checking if you were wet enough, he entered you in one practiced thrust, tearing a cry from you. You whined, yours arms pulling him closer as he went in and out of you, roughly breathing with each stroke.

“You idiot girl!” He snapped, entwining your hands with his and pinning them beside your head. Sweat glittered on his hairline, his body rocking hard into you, sweet pleasure running down your spine and settling as heat in your womb. “You fucking dumb bitch!”

It seemed like he had a lot to say but just couldn’t. So, he showed you. He kissed you like he was sucking your very soul from your body, he fucked you as if branding you from within, he held you as if he could merge you into himself. Panting, softly cursing, Steve took you hard and fast, eliciting mewls and cries from you that fell like music on his ears.

“Mine. You are mine!” He said, but more as a statement than anything else. “You don’t leave me ever again. Never.”

The coil in your gut tightened, Steve letting one of your hand go to bring his to your bud and flick it with expertise. His eyes were fixed on yours, holding your very being hostage with his power. In a moan that echoed off the walls, you succumbed to his will, shattering below him and falling limp, floating in a haze of glittering pleasure. He buried his head in your neck, thrusting a few more times before finishing inside you, his cum flooding you within and warming your core.

You panted, sweaty and sated, wearing his marks and covered in him. He rolled over, taking you with him so you rested above, your ear over his chest that thumped with his strong heartbeat. Crazily, you found peace. In the hailstorm of your fucked up life, Steve was the one you held you together. He was the one who pushed you down, and he was the one who caught you as you fell. Your sanity, your insanity.

“If I ever wake up to you gone again, I’ll shackle you to me. You get it?” He murmured, running a hand over your back. You nodded, shifting closer into the warmth of his body. He grunted in approval, pulling a sheet over you before he got up to bring a cloth to clean you.

Kneeling before your legs, wiping gently and softly tracing your folds, Steve murmured soft words of love and praise and apology. He kissed your abused hole, the inside of your bruised thighs, the mass of your belly and the softness of your breast. He kissed your eyes and your nose, reaching your mouth the last.

“What is my truth?” He asked, dressing you into soft pajamas and cradling you into his lap. You relaxed into his touch, head on his chest.

“That you love me, and you’ll never apologize for that.” You answered. In the most bizarre way, you did believe he loved you. And though his love wasn’t perfect or without pain, it was what got you through his darkness that confined you here by force.

“And what is your truth?” He asked, lips on the crown of your head. You closed your eyes, listening to the beating of his heart that matched yours.

“That I am yours.” You said, sleep creeping over you in a beautiful embrace. Shifting you in his arms, Steve laid you down and spooned around you, hands covering your own. You wiggled, pressing your bum into Steve’s groin, and smiling at the catch in his breath.

You floated towards oblivion, a dream already encroaching over your consciousness when you sleepily called out to Steve. He hummed, squeezing your hands gently.

“Werewolves are real.” You muttered and before he could so much a snort out a laugh, you were snoring.

Steve smiled into the darkness, running his thumb over the back of your hand. The panic of your disappearance earlier was replaced by fondness, his heart full of love for you. No, he would never apologize for how he had taken you. Just like the lunar soil sitting on your nightstand was still a part of the moon, no matter how far apart, you were always going to be a part of him. That was your truth, both of yours.

[spilledkauffie]

Meet Cute

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x DogMom!Reader Word Count: 1.8k T/W: fluffyyyy A/N: I know it’s a trope, but I love it!

Can you imagine Bucky with a puppy?!?!

Managing six dogs at once wasn’t exactly easy, but you did it rather gracefully, at least most of the time. Today however, you fumbled with your keys at your apartment door when two dogs suddenly, and swiftly wrapped around you, pulling opposite directions. With a small shocked squeak at being squeezed, you accidentally dropped both your keys and a leash, one out of six wasn’t bad, but it was still a loose puppy, trotting around the apartment hall like he owned the place. 

“Peanut!” You yelled out of sheer concern as the baby dachshund gallivanted towards the stairs, as if it were his prison break at last, “Peanut, sweetie, come here!” You called again, eyebrows furrowing during your attempt to untwist the other leashed from around you, as he got closer and closer to that first step which was far too steep for him to comfortably and safely make wihtout tumbling down the rest. 

You watched in sheer panic as his short stout front legs took the leap of faith with ears flying freely in the air like he was Dumbo. You anticipated the little yelp that would absolutely break your heart— Thankfully there was a soft landing platform neither of you had prepared for. Underneath Peanut appeared two hands covered in black gloves. The small dog fit perfectly in the hands as he wagged his tail, beyond proud of the heart attack he nearly gave you. Sighing, you leaned into the door of your apartment for support. 

“Whoa there,” the saviour said, bringing the pup up with him as he stood, having had to dip to catch the pup on the stairs, after glancing at the shining silver bone shaped name tag he met the dog’s eye line, “Peanut, was it?”

As the stranger made his way up the last few steps, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. While you didn’t know him personally, you had seen him around the apartment complex before. Heart still pounding, you shook your head at the pup who was plenty happy in the hands of his rescuer. 

“Peanut Butter Brittle Biscuit,” you full named the dog, causing him to tuck his tail, still wagging it though. Setting your hand, which was still being tugged on by the other five other dogs, on your hip, “you know better than to just run into strangers, it's rude.”

“Well, Peanut,” he looked to the pup in all seriousness, “I’m Bucky. There, we aren’t strangers anymore,” he affirmed, shaking the dogs tiny little paw gently, “and so we’re not strangers,” he looked to you, “I’m Bucky, and you are?” You smiled at his flirty tone, “unless you’d like to go by 4C? Keep it professional?”

“Four- C?” You gave a puzzled look.

Bucky pointed above and behind your head, with the hand he was not literally cradling Peanut with. Quickly glancing you realized it was your apartment number. Now feeling a flush of embarrassment, you took a moment to face him again, squeezing your eyes closed. 

“Oh yeah,” you nervously laughed, before giving him your name as well, you liked the way he repeated it to himself, “and you’re 2E, right?”

“Do we know each other?” he asked, tilting his head with a smirk.

“Oh no, I just, sometimes I see Yori go down there, and- I’m not stalking you, I promise,” you frantically explained, waving your hand, wrapped in dog leashes. 

“No,” Bucky smiled, letting you know that was not what he was thinking, “I think I’d hear you if you were though,” he looked down and around at the literal pack of dogs sitting and standing around you. The pack ranged from a German Shepherd to a Golden Retriever to a Dachshund to a Pomeranian to a Corgi to, lastly, a dopey Great Dane.

“Most definitely,” you laughed, trying to calm your nerves, “we’re not the most graceful bunch, you had a display of that just a moment ago, which thank you so, so much.” You placed your hand over your chest, as an expression of relief. 

“No problem,” he said with a sincere nod and smile, petting back the dog’s ears, “looks like Peanut here is a real daredevil.”

“You have no idea,” you glanced at the puppy, “he’s a troublemaker and thinks he’s invincible.”

With that Peanut interjected giving the most babyish attempt at a deep roo, sassily from where Bucky held him still.

“Talker too, huh?” Bucky gave a shocked glance at the Dachshund who was still resting comfortably with his chest being cradled by Bucky's hand.

“Yeah, well we’re 40 minutes late to D I N N E R,” you spelled out the last word in a whisper, “Fridays are always long days,” you gestured around you to the bigger dogs with toys covered in drool, they just stared up at you, sighing you collected yourself, “they’re park days.” 

“Ohh, I see,” Bucky nodded, “I'd hate to keep you any longer then.” 

With a soft ‘okay’ and a smile, you held your hands out to take Peanut back. There was a brief moment in the exchange where your hands touched his and he gave a ‘sorry’ knowing it was probably cold against your skin. As Peanut hovered with both your hands on his chubby little sides. Your Dane tugged one way again, while the Retriever was determined to go the other, pulling you and Bucky closer together. Practically chest to chest, save Peanut being the barrier between the two of you.

“Oh my gosh,” you whispered, looking down immediately, even though there was hardly room between you two to do so, literally feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you closed your eyes, “this is not happening.”

“I’ve been in worse situations,” Bucky remarked cooly, keeping his gaze focused on you, finding it surprisingly cute at how flustered you were around him. It’d been a long time since he had felt someone had real genuine human emotions regarding him. 

Neither of you took your hands away from the other’s. Standing there you bit in your lip, calming your rising pulse as you were now close enough to smell his cologne. 

“I’m-” you started, finally looking up, “so sorry.” 

“It’s really okay,” Bucky chuckled, not wanting you to feel as worried as you were, but you just knit your brows together and gave another apologetic look, “honestly, I could- I could do this all day.” There was a pause, then you smiled, ducking your head to hide your face against Peanut who was really becoming a star matchmaker, “I think Peanut and I are going to be very good friends by the end of this.”

Lifting your head with a nod, you sighed, stroking the pup’s ear, for a moment before you guided the other dogs around to give you some more space. Bucky respectfully took a step back, somehow still holding Peanut after all that. You opened your apartment door and the dogs rushed in, you let each leash fall off your hand as they entered. You said their name with each one to keep track of them.

“And lastly,” you exhaled, reaching your arms out again for the troublemaker of whom Bucky surrendered, though he was getting fairly fond of him, “well, at least let me invite you in? Have a drink on me? Something?”

“That’d be great,” Bucky said, gesturing for you to lead the way. 

Once you were both in and Bucky shut the door behind him, you let Peanut loose and immediately he ran to his dinner bowl, waiting in anticipation. Offering Bucky to sit at the bar, you set two cold bottles on top of the counter, but before you joined him you got out six dog bowls, making him smile.

“How long have you had them?” Bucky asked, opening his bottle relaxedly with his hand.

“They vary, some for years, but the most recent,” you nodded to Peanut, “only a few months.”

“So uh, why so many?” Bucky inquired. 

You squeezed your shoulders up, looking around at all of them, “they needed a home,” you said, soft smile, “each of them came from a broken place, of hurt and pain. That’s all they knew before I took them in, and,” you shook your head smiling wider, looking over to Bucky, “if I could be a part of their healing, I knew I had to be. I can’t think of leaving something to suffer if there’s something that can be done to help.”

“That’s-” Bucky looked to the floor as you rounded the counter, to sit next to him on another bar stool, having just set all the bowls down, “that’s a really great mindset.” 

“What about you?” you took a sip, “any pets?”

He swallowed shaking his head, “no, I have a weird work schedule,” he squinted at his own reasoning, hoping it didn’t sound too dumb.

“Oh gotcha,” you nodded, before gesturing with the top of the bottle, “well Rodgers seems to like you.”

Your gesture drew Bucky to look down, sure enough set atop his thigh was your German Shepherd's head, looking up with big eyes and slowly wagging his tail. Bucky pet the dog’s ear, “Rodgers?”

“Yeah, you know after Captain America? He’s ex-military himself so I thought it was fitting,” you bent down to pet the dog yourself.

There was a quietness, Bucky looked away from the dogs and you for a moment. Biting the inside of his lip he felt something he hadn’t in a long time, though he tried to repress it. A part of him felt it was a sign, another part of him told himself to ignore it. Takin another swig, he made his choice

“Hey, if you ever. . . need help with them, I’m,” he hesitated, “I’m usually free Fridays, or- park days.”

“I’d love that,” you smiled leaning back up, “how bout I get your number so we can plan a da-,” you quickly changed your sentence, “a park day.”

While you got up to grab your phone, he flipped open his, seeing the very few contacts and the messages from only one person. Wincing he was a little nervous, this meant opening up. You returned, asking for his number, to which he willingly gave you. Finishing the drinks he said he really should head home, you completely understood, already surprised that he stuck around that long after the incident earlier. 

With casual goodbyes, you shut your door and he headed back downstairs. Taking his gloves off, he suddenly felt his phone vibrate. Sitting on his couch he took it out of his pocket. Seeing your name pop up with a “hi 4C here, texting you like I said I would” and a smiley face with a dog emoji made him smile to himself. 

He opened it-- it was time to start answering messages, it was time he found his healing.

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

[eloquent-vowel]

I have had a few bucky x read fic ideas bouncing around in my head and i cant write! So here is one,

Sam find a person who stairs and doesnt talk a whole lot because they uses ✨telepathy ✨. So Sam think they would be a good fit for Bucky, but he doesn’t know they have that power he just thinks they are mute. Then there is a thing where the reader is telling Buck how it works and they if they have something to connect them together like an object *reader motions to dog tags* they can have an unbreakable mind link. Then they fall in love or something. This is dumb, thank you for coming to my TedTalk

Hey! Thank you so much for this request, it wasn't dumb at all. I really enjoyed writing this. I may have gotten a bit carried away, this may sit close to 4000 words but we vibe. I hope this is what you had in mind! Please enjoy! <3

Click here for my masterlist of other fics and check in my bio for requests if anyone wishes to ask!

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Bucky had been enjoying a moments peace, he loved working with Sam but sometimes all he wanted was to put his feet up, put on some vinyl and enjoy a good cup of coffee all while reading a brilliant book. He had been trying to get into Game of Thrones lately, on Sam’s insistence, and he had been enjoying it. With the crackles of Glenn Miller from the turntable he missed the clunky footsteps coming up the stairs.

The sight that greeted Sam needed to be photographed. Bucky was lounging back on his ‘old man armchair’ feet up, hair in a towel, in a bathrobe, coffee in hand and facemask on, this was definitely one for the family album.

At the sound of the phone shutter Bucky practically launched himself out of the chair.

“Oh, you are never gonna live this one down old boy, it’s going to haunt you.” Sam almost cackled evilly as he began to email the photo to himself- he had learnt the hard way that Bucky was very proficient at breaking phones.

“You better not upload that photo anywhere, Wilson, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Pfft, reputation, that’s funny.”

Bucky scoffed as he stood up, placing his book carefully on the side table, “Big scary super soldier, people hardly run-in fear from a guy in a bathrobe.”

“I disagree, a man in a bathrobe is definitely something you should run from. AH NOPE!” Sam jumped backwards, on top of a nearby chair, as Bucky lunged for the phone, towel turban falling off in the process. “You are not breaking this phone as well.”

“Fine. But you gotta promise not to post that anywhere.” Bucky huffed.

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

“As long as- “

“Oh no, I’m not doing anything for you.”

“Think of it as payment for the last phone you broke and insurance for this picture.”

There was silence for a moment as the two friends eyed each other up. Sam raised his eyebrows, Bucky’s eyes narrowed. It was an intense staring match between a guy in a bathrobe and a precariously balanced man. A clock ticked.

“Fine.” Bucky conceded. “What do you want?”

“For you to come to a meeting.”

“The families of Veterans ones?”

“Yeah.” Sam slowly started climbing down from the chair. “And before you get your old man pants in a twist, I’m not trying to force you to talk or anything, kinda.”

“Kinda?” Suspicion laced through Bucky’s voice.

“You know sign language, right?”

“Which kind?”

“American? I think?”

“Yeah, I know ASL, might be a bit rusty but I’m sure it still holds up. Why do you ask?”

Sam shifted slightly on his feet, “There’s this person, they come in every week and listen. I tried to talk to them, but they communicate through sign language, and I don’t have anyone there to talk with them.” He cast his eyes to the floor, “I feel bad. They were brave enough to come to the group only to basically be ignored ‘because we didn’t plan well enough.”

Bucky smiled, face mask crinkling around his smile lines, “You could have just asked me to Sam. You didn’t have to blackmail me into this, of course I’ll help. When’s the next meeting?”

“This evening. You gonna be ready or do you need some more ‘me’ time.”

Bucky simply chuckled at Sam’s teasing tone, patted his shoulder making sure to squeeze just a bit too hard before retreating to his room.

“I’ll be there, Wilson, and I will look so much younger than you!”

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It was frustrating to you, going along to these meetings and not being able to communicate. You could always speak into someone’s mind but all that usually accomplished was a very paranoid person. But just listening to other’s stories really helped the grief from losing someone so close to you. You related to most of the people there and even though they didn’t understand you a lot of the time, you were always made to feel welcome- with friendly pats on the back and the odd tissue thrown your way.

You bustled into the familiar building with a new sense of excitement as Sam had promised to bring a translator for you this week. It was finally time to say your thanks to some of the people there and finally let the group know about your brother, so that it wasn’t only you that remembered him.

You all but ran through the hallways until you caught sight of a familiar smiling man. Sam was facing you, talking animatedly to another man, the strangers back was to you. He was tall, broad shouldered and dressed in a vintage looking leather jacket and rather well fitted trousers. Now the debate was: does the tailoring make the ass, or does the ass make the tailoring. You were halfway through the arguments on either side when Sam shouting your name disrupted the intense debating in your mind. You blushed at being caught, then blushed some more when you caught sight of the stranger’s face. Twinkling blue eyes under a deep-set brow should have made him intimidating, but he was smiling, and his face was dazzling. There was an immediate fluttering in your stomach.

“Hey, I’m Bucky.” Dear lord even his voice was nice, what made you smile even more was the fact that he signed as he spoke. Well, Sam certainly knew how to pick them well. “Sam introduced me; said you wanted an interpreter.”

You nodded as you signed back, “Nice to meet you, thank you for helping out.”

“No problem, Sam has told me a bit about you.”

“Good things I hope.”

“Okay I recognise my own name, you two better not be conspiring against me.” Sam piped up, to be honest you had forgotten about him for a moment.

Bucky laughed, and it sent a little thrill down you, he really was adorable.

“No worries, Wilson, just letting them know all your dirty little secrets.”

“Right, you two get in there, before you make me sleep with one eye open.”

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You and Bucky caught each other’s eye, his eyes were twinkling with mischief, and you couldn’t help the smile that overtook you. You had a feeling that the two of you would get on just fine.

The meeting passed easily. Bucky translated your signs and you finally felt like you could actually take part in these meetings. Everyone listened intently when you spoke of your brother and when you had thanked the whole group for being so open to you a couple of people shed a tear. By the end of the meeting though you were tired and very accepting of Bucky’s offer to walk you home.

It was a lot of side glances and hidden smiles and you walked side by side. Drawn to each other under the moonlit sky, it was nice to just be in the presence of someone who had such a kind aura. You spent the walk trying to work up the confidence to sign something, anything but nothing came to mind and Bucky seemed quite content to just walk in comfortable silence.

You soon reached your home, you turned to Bucky with a smile on your face and signed,

“Thanks for today, Bucky. You were really helpful.”

“No problem.” He signed back,

You hesitated slightly before signing, “Would you be happy to have a coffee with me, tomorrow?”

Bucky went a little red in the face, and chuckled, “I would love to, I know a nice place, real cosy. I’ll text you the details.”

“You know how to text?”

“Hey! I get enough stick from Sam, don’t need you getting on my case too. I’ll have you know that I am very adaptable.”

“Sure, Sure.” You smiled at his flustered tone. “I’ll wait for your text then, have a good evening.”

“You too.”

The two of you stared slightly awkwardly at each other, neither wanting to be the first to turn around. You shuffled your feet away slowing, smiling awkwardly once more at Bucky before turning. You heard his footsteps start to fade away as you walked towards your home. You were but three steps to the door when a large figure in a hoodie slammed into you, you raised your arms instinctively to block them when you noticed your shoulder was lighter. The bastard had stolen your bag.

You immediately took chase, chasing around the corner you just walked down but they were fast, faster then you at least. As you rounded the corner you caught sight of Bucky walking ahead. The thief wouldn’t stand a change against him. Without a second thought you cast your thoughts towards Bucky,

“Bucky! Thief! My Bag! Behind you!”

You saw Bucky flinch slightly then turn bewildered, his eyes widening when he saw you hurting towards him, chasing the hooded figure. He caught on and launched after the thief as well, with barely any effort he knocked the thief to the ground, grabbed your bag and whipped out his phone to call the cops.

Well, that was hot.

You took your bag back, immediately checking that you brother’s lucky coin was in the zippy pocket, to your relief it was still there. You looked up to see Bucky staring at you with a very puzzled look on his face. You sighed before casting your thoughts to his head once more,

“I’ll explain later.”

Bucky let out a strange, decompressed noise of shock, it made you giggle. The two of you waited in silence until the police came and took the thief away. The police car had barely driven away when he turned to you.

“Did you just, talk in my head? Or did my conscious just suddenly get really loud.”

“I did. Hi. Sorry about that.”

He waved his hands dismissively. “Believe it or not, not the weirdest thing I’ve encountered.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.”

There was an awkward silence.

“So,” You started, resorting back to sign language, it felt less invasive, “Still down for coffee?”

Bucky smiled, “One hundred percent. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Bye Bucky. Thanks for getting my bag back.”

“No problem, see ya.”

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The coffee shop that Bucky invited you to, was tucked away, it was the kind of place that you would stumble over on accident. With a simple door and a big window out the front, that lead soft orange light filter out onto the alley. There was the faint sound of jazz leaking out of the building, you smirked. It was such an old fashioned place, of course this was where Bucky frequented.

The bell tinkled slightly as you entered the café, where you were greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods. You caught sight of Bucky’s broad shoulders sitting in the corner, and you made your way over to him, smiling at the barista as you passed.

As if sensing you, Bucky turned to smile and wave. He was dressed in casual clothes like last time, but this time his hair was loose around his shoulders. You smiled back before settling into the seat opposite him.

His hands moved hesitantly as he signed, “What would you like? I can recommend their hot chocolate, its very warming/”

“Hot chocolate it is.”

You could tell he wanted to ask you a million questions but to his credit he walked slowly to get the drinks, he even took his time carefully carrying the tray of drinks back to your table. He placed a delicious looking hot chocolate in front of you. You watched as he took a sip.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1-

“So,” Here we go, “What is it you can do, you can speak in peoples’ heads, can you,” He lowered his voice and leaned in, “Can you read people’s minds?”

You giggled slightly, his eyes were basically sparkling, he was definitely nerding out about this.

You set the hot chocolate down before casting your thoughts to his head, “I can speak in peoples heads relatively easily, it’s how I talk most of the time to people I know. I guess you could call it Telepathy.”

Bucky’s eyes were as wide as saucers, “So you can’t read thoughts, only… speak them?”

“I like to call it casting, makes me feel like a sorcerer. I can read thoughts, but it takes a lot of energy. I used to be able to talk with my brother from across the house. That usually requires some kind of connection.”

“Oh, so like a blood or family connection? Do you have to know the person very well?”

“That certainly helps but it’s not always necessary. If I have a personal object that belongs to that person, something I can hold and connect to them it isn’t hard to make a two-way connection. Especially if that person is willing to open their mind.”

Bucky seemed to be caught in thought for a second. “So, if I were to give you something of mine, we could both talk in our… heads?”

“Well yes, but Bucky we have only just met. Letting me into your head is a lot. I try not to pry but sometimes I’ve found that thoughts just burst through. Let’s get to know each other a before that happens.”

Bucky smiled at you before speaking and signing, “You’re right. Let’s get to know one another. I find you fascinating.”

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It happened on the fifth date. Bucky was just walking you home after a lovely dinner at a small Italian that he claimed he went to back in the 40s. Just outside your door, under the glow of a lamppost he turned to you and took a deep breath before speaking.

“I know this may be a lot, but I wanted to give you these.” He reached around his neck and pulled off something silver. You gasped slightly as he held out his dog tags, immaculately preserved after all these years.

“Are you sure, Bucky? This is a lot.”

“I know and if you aren’t comfortable with it then just let me know but I want to give them to you.”

“You know what this means Bucky?”

“Yeah, I know, I just figured that you’re already in my head all the time anyways, just can’t seem to get you out of it.”

“You cheeseball.” You smirked at him before taking the dog tags and placing them around your neck. You gripped the cold metal for a moment, concentrating on the man in front of you. Taking everything, you knew about him and stretching out a connection, like a hand reaching out to clasp another.

“Testing, Testing, Testing, one two, one two, can my Telepathic partner hear me?”

You laughed, “Yes I can Bucky, you big dork.”

Bucky whooped out loud before sweeping you up in a big hug. The two of you laughing under the lamp light. His joy was infectious, and you couldn’t fight the smile off your face.

“Oh, we are going to have so much fun messing with Sam.”

“You’re evil.”

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Of course, the two of you made a pact not to tell Sam until he worked it out, which wouldn’t be anytime soon according to Bucky. It led to some very memorable moments and Sam refusing to play any form of card or board game with either of you because you always managed to win, somehow. Not to mention all the times you had spoken in eery unison around him.

“I swear, its like you two can read each other’s minds sometimes.” Sam threw his hands up in frustration at another lost game of charades.

You smirked at Bucky across the room, “Should you tell him, or shall I?”

“I think he’s been through enough, I got it.”

Bucky cleared his throat, “We can.”

Sam whipped around to face Bucky, a look of sheer disbelief on his face, “Seriously Bucky-boy, if you think I believe that after all-

“Hello Sam.” You cast your thoughts to him, in the creepiest old lady voice you could muster.

Sam yelped, before turning accusingly at you, “You better be joking around with me right now, I am not dealing with any kind of ghosts in this house.”

“Sorry! Surprise I’m telepathic!”

“You’re serious.”

You nodded.

Sam put his head in his hands and sighed, “Not the weirdest thing ever. Wait, does this mean you have been cheating this entire time.”

You both looked guiltily at one another.

“You owe me. That poker night, void.”

You both laughed, “We’ll have a fair rematch this time Sam.”

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It had been close to a year since you had made it official with Bucky and you were now much more comfortable around one another. He no longer just dropped you off at the lamppost but cam inside with you. You had spent many lovely mornings together sharing glances over steaming cups of coffee. Fighting each other for who got to spread their legs out on the couch, there wasn’t really a loser though as it usually ended up in sofa cuddles for both of you, while watching a film.

Life was pretty great, you thought, as you smiled down at the sleeping Bucky beside you. Finally reaching over to turn off the lamp and put your book down, you were finally reading the hobbit at Bucky’s insistence. As you clicked off the light beside you and settled down you noticed the faster than usual breathing coming from beside you.

“Bucky?”

You reached out, thinking he was awake but instead as you opened up your connection you caught flashes of night terrors. You were falling indefinitely, snow all around you, and in the distance, there were cries of pain, people pleading for their lives, there was gunfire and explosions. You gasped and took off the dog tags. You only gave yourself a moment to breathe before trying to shake Bucky awake. When it became clear that he wasn’t stirring you steadied yourself and settled your hands on his temples. You didn’t care you tired this would make you, you just wanted Bucky to stop suffering. You focused, offering out that hand of connection again, this time picturing it in the shape of a fist and, although it wasn’t subtle, you tried to shake Bucky’s brain awake. You forced your way into his dreams, punching through the dark fog that clouded his thoughts and almost screamed at him.

“Bucky! Bucky wake up! You’re dreaming my dear!”

Bucky woke up with a start. Tears flowing down his face, he stared at you blue eyes shining. No one spoke as he pulled you into his arms. You just breathed together for a moment, counting the breaths and the spaces in between. When he finally pulled back, you saw his eyes flicker with concern before lifting a hand to gently wipe under your nose, it came back red with blood.

“You, okay?”

You smiled sadly, reaching out to put the dog tags back on.

“I should be asking you that.”

“But you’re bleeding.”

“Occupational hazard.” You tried to subtly get rid of any of the extra blood. “That was pretty intense. Wanna talk?”

Bucky looked down to the sheets and shook his head. You smiled at him, tilting his head to yours.

“That’s fine, want me to go? Or would you like to cuddle for a bit?”

Bucky didn’t talk again, just pulled you gently down to the bed once more. Snuggling himself under your chin, resting his head on your chest. You felt his arms draw tightly against your waist. You pressed your lips into his hair.

“May I help you go to sleep? Keep the bad thoughts at bay for at least one night.”

You felt Bucky nod and let out a little sleepy hum of agreement. You closed your eyes, focused on your connection setting up a golden wall against the dark fog at the corners of his mind and settled into a deep sleep.

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You woke to the smell of fresh coffee and the clinking of cups.

“Morning.” You opened your eyes at Bucky’s voice and took the offered cup greedily. Your mind still felt hazy from the energy you used last night.

You felt the bed dip beside you as Bucky sat and sipped at his cup as well, hair a bit of a mess from bed. He had evidently only just woken up as well.

He took a breath, “I had some pretty interesting dreams, sweetheart.”

You stiffened, “Good ones I hope.”

“Don’t worry, they were good. If a little strange.”

“Strange?”

“I was watching myself most of the time.”

You snorted into the coffee, “Sounds creepy”

There was a slight chuckle, “Nah, I was watching myself build a home, a family- “

“Oh God Bucky.” You snapped your eyes to his, you knew what had happened. “I am so sorry my dreams must have stuck in your head.”

“Those were your dreams?”

“Yeah, its only happened once before but when the connection between two people is very strong, it can happen- I call it bleeding. Perhaps we should- “

“If the next words out of your mouth are take a break, I will spill your coffee.” You clutched your cup closer to your chest, “Truthfully, those were some of the beset dreams I have every had. I really loved them.”

You looked back up at him, hesitantly “You did?”

“And I love you.”

“Huh

There was silence as you stared at him in shock. His face as nothing but adoration as the sunlight filtered over his face.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.”

Coffee cups were cast aside as you both collided. Giggling and joking, radiating happiness as the two of you shared the sweetest kiss. Your feelings merging together, amplifying one another until they shone brighter than the sun.

[crack-whore-who-fuckedup-already]

The Man Needs His Cat

Bucky x fem!reader

Word count: 1,960

Warnings: mentions of animal death, fluff, Tony/Bucky interaction

Summary: Bucky and Reader stumble across a kitten in the woods and Reader is tasked with asking Tony for a huge favor. 

A/N: y'all- I'm head over heels in love with catperson!Bucky

The situation had to be dealt with carefully, (Y/n) knew. She didn't want to come on too strong or he'd be quick to turn her down. Maybe a hypothetical would be the best course of action... She took a breath and pulled her shoulders back. Then, with only a second of hesitation, she entered Tony's lab. 

He greeted her from his hunched over position at one of the many cluttered tables, barely sparing her a glance. In the heat of engineering, he worked on some odd piece of tech he had yet to fully present to the team. She echoed a small 'hello' back and rocked awkwardly back and forth on her feet. 

Still not looking up, Tony indulged the girl with idle conversation. They spoke of their day, of current world news, of the weather. That's how he knew she wanted something. The girl would always engage him in casual conversation just before asking a favor. Tony didn't mind much, of course. If anything, he found it entertaining how intently she tried buttering him up. But today he had quite a bit of work to get done so he wanted to get this show on the road. 

Putting his tools down, he looked at her pointedly with a knowing grin. "Alright kid, what's up?" He asked.

(Y/s)'s eyebrows raised in question, playing dumb. "What do you-" 

"Drop the act, (Y/n)," he chuckled, and grabbed an already greasy rag off the desk next to him to wipe his hands. He stood and made his way to her, tossing the rag back on one of the several tables in the lab. "I know when you want something, so just go on. Ask." He said, his face light with a smirk.

(Y/n) flushed with warmth, embarrassed by his boldness. But she continued anyway, determined to fulfill her promise to Bucky. 

The night before, she and Bucky were on their way home from the movies. It was a beautiful night out and in their comfortable silence, they found themselves on a slight detour through the woods. At some point, Bucky had pulled over off the side of the road and onto a look out.

Bucky, ever the silent communicator, simply stared at (Y/s) confused face with the softest smile on his own, before stepping out of the car. While (Y/n) scrambled to open her door, Bucky walked the couple of feet towards a barrier fence overlooking the river beneath him. His eyes followed the shine of the water as it drowned the boulders lining the river bed. He thought for a second how exciting the challenge of rock hopping sounded, never really having gotten the chance to as a child.

The call of an owl pulled his attention to the tree line which he observed with such intensity that (Y/n) nudging his arm made him tense. She flashed him a smile to calm the surprise on his face and in an instant, his arm was around her, pulling her close. They both looked out at the shadowed woods and (Y/n) was even sure to point out the moon and stars themselves. 

In the silent moments that passed, they both had turned to embrace each other wholly. They stayed like that for a moment and then Bucky pressed a kiss to her forehead. Pulling back to look at his warm, loving face, she found acute concern instead. He was glancing just past her head, off into the bush leading down to the river bank. 

"What's the mat-" she asked quietly, shrinking away. 

Bucky pressed his fingers to his lips and hushed her quickly and gently and then slowly gestured to his ear. Listen, he was telling her. 

She didn't hear anything at first. Nothing but the rush of the river below them and the gentle night breeze above them.

But then, just as she was about to ask again, she heard it. The faintest of mewling. Barely audible but definitely there. 

Bucky grasped her shoulders and looked her in the eyes once more before he squeezed them tightly and moved past her. He approached the thicket and hesitated for only a second before pressing forward. The branches hurt his skin but he'd suffered worse.

(Y/n) tentatively called his name to which he responded "I've almost got it." His voice sounded distant and strained and it worried (Y/n) that she could no longer see him through the darkness, being so close to the river and all. But as long as she could hear his grunts of discomfort from the branches whacking him in the face, she remained calm enough. 

Eventually, he emerged. Even in the dark, (Y/n) could see the pure white fluff sticking out between Bucky's fingers. As he approached, the fuzz ball revealed its face from its careful hiding spot in the crook of Bucky's arm and glanced around. Two dark eyes and the palest little nose swung in her direction, its whiskers twitching with cautious curiosity.

A kitten.

The poor thing was trembling but so was Bucky. Placing a hand on his forearm, she beckoned his attention and spoke low.

"What was it?"

To bide his time, he shifted the kit closer to his chest and took a deep breath. He didn't meet her eyes but he mumbled just loud enough to hear.

"A whole box of them but…." He didn't dare finish the sentence and instead held the kitten in front of his face, ignoring the unwarranted feeling of loss he felt for its siblings. Swallowing hard, he finally met the girls soft, understanding eyes and smiled sadly. 

Before she could say anything, the small creature let out another indignant mewl that seemed to reassure Bucky just a bit. With that, (Y/n) moved to his side and slung her arm around his waist.

"Alpine," he mumbled.

"What's that?"

"I think I'll call him Alpine." Bucky said fondly. His eyes never left the baby and the girl knew he was in deep.

"Oooh, I know that look." She tittered. Bucky only stared, his eyebrow creased, questioning. "That's the way you look at someone you love. That's the way you look at me." She said with a blush, nudging him lightly.

His face melted into that soft loving one she cared for so dearly. The kitten settled into the warmth that embraced him as the couple kissed.

"Let's get a move on. It's getting colder and colder by the second and I'm sure this little guy agrees." The kitten mewled one last time.

With a light chuckle, they spared one last glance over the look out before returning to the car where Alpine slept peacefully in Bucky’s lap the whole way home.

The two couldn't help but discuss what they were going to do with little Alpine. Bucky was set on keeping it and had even decided to clear his schedule the next day to make a vet visit. The only issue was their living space. They weren't too sure how Tony would react to them bringing a cat in off the street. But the girl could see how much the kitten meant to Bucky already so she promised to talk to Tony in the morning. 

Well, morning came and now here she was.

Tony crossed his arms impatiently. "Well?" He pressed, tilting his head up.

(Y/n) anxiously grasped her hands in front of her and leaned forward a bit. "What would you say to the idea of us getting a pet?" She stared openly at his face as he stared back at hers. The question bounced around in Tony's head, leaving his eyebrow slightly creased and the room painfully quiet. (Y/s)' nervously raised eyebrow gave him a clue into the situation.

"Right….and who exactly is this 'us' you're referring to? Cause something tells me I'm actually being iced out of this decision." Before she could even get a full breath in, he continued on. "All right, what are we working with, huh? A rabbit? A goldfish? If it's a parakeet, it won't even get past the front door, so help me god." 

The girl shook her head as she let out a laugh. She could tell he wasn't overly fond of the idea. It was clear by the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. But judging by the way his voice didn't fall completely flat, he wasn't opposed to it either….not entirely, anyway.

"No, no. Not quite. It's a cat. A kitten, actually, so there's still time to train it and all," She reassured him. "And Bucky should be getting home any minute from the vet with him if you'd like to say hello."

Tony caught himself before he let his expression drop at the name of the elusive ex soldier. He'd gotten better at watching himself since the two of them moved in. Bucky and (Y/n) weren't together when they did, but being only a few steps down the hallway certainly allowed them a closer relationship.

Tony nodded his head reluctantly and dropped his arms to his sides. 

He followed the girl down the various halls as she recounted how they found the poor kit, and found themselves approaching the common room. Or the family room, as (Y/n) preferred to call it, while simultaneously prattling on about how much time and energy the team wastes pretending to hate each other. Huh.

They could hear the tinkling of a bell being wacked around from down the hallway. As they entered the room, they stopped in the archway and took in the sight before them. 

Bucky sat crisscrossed with his back to them. In his hand was a feather wand, standing out bright purple, blue, and white against the dark brown floor. In front of him, white fluff darted back and forth. There was the smallest sound of tearing as its tiny claws ripped against the carpet, no doubt leaving it frayed.

Tony tried his very best to suppress his dissatisfied grumble...

They watched for a bit as Bucky went back and forth with the kitten. Tony didn't have to look hard at all to see how much the ex soldier cared for the tiny thing. No only because of his undivided attention towards the cat but also because of the many beige bags labeled "PetsPlus+"  full of toys, treats and towers scattered around the sofas. 

He thought it might be good for Bucky to have another companion around. Maybe it would help him relax. Maybe even lighten up a bit.

Tony stepped forward.

"So, uh, I'm not a big fan of funky smells so that's got to be top priority as far as pest control goes with this thing, alright?"

Bucky jumped to his feet and Alpine followed suit, hackles raised. Bucky quickly scooped him up and held him close. "Of course." (Y/n) made her way over to them. "Our rooms are big enough to keep him there most of the time and we have already worked out all the responsibilities between us. We've got it covered."

Tony stepped back a bit looking them up and down, humming. "I expect weekly visits in the family room," he said pointedly, then waved his hand. "Keep it tidy, folks." And with that he left the couple to their new fascination.

Tony lingered at the doorway on the way out. While the couple was distracted, he found himself watching that wretched arm. The dark, intimidating metal turned soft and gentle as it reached out fearlessly to antagonize the tiniest, weakest thing in the room. No hesitation, no fear. Not in Bucky or the kitten. Tony knew then that it stayed, no question.

The man needed his cat. And damn it, he'll get it.

[arrow-guy]

Neither Here Nor There (2/3)

Summary: Very seldom does life go as we plan it. Life goes downhill after (Y/N) is kidnapped, and things only get stranger from there. Thrown into the world of Hydra, the Avengers, and superheroes there’s only one constant: Bucky Barnes. Is there any way for them to find the peace they both long for?

A/N: Chapter two!! I really liked writing this chapter. It’s the first thing I’ve written that’s fully canon compliant that comes after Endgame (because I’m a coward and don’t usually want to write stuff for that bit because it’s SAD) and it just felt right when I was writing it. I hope you’ll enjoy this chapter!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing: BuckyxReader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, federal agent(s), major character death mentioned (Infinity War and Endgame compliant), separation, angst

Part 1

Bucky called as soon as he was settled. Steve had been on a mission, so (Y/N) was free to talk to him as long as he had the time. From there on out, he texted with some regularity and called very infrequently. Which was fine, because (YN) had begun training with Natasha with the intention of adding her to missions in the future.

To her own surprise, (Y/N) was actually comfortable with working in the field again. She knew the Avengers weren’t Hydra. She knew they helped people to the best of their abilities and kept anyone they could safe. And having a good team was great, but she found that her comfort really came down to the fact that it was her choice this time.

Clint had randomly brought up the possibility of her working with them during a meeting one morning. Natasha had smacked his arm to shut him up, but (Y/N) had simply shrugged and said “Sure.”

When they felt that she was ready, she worked quick little “get in, get out” type assignments with Clint and Natasha.

She initially worried that she’d settle into old habits. Fall back into the silence and minimal involvement. That she’d go back to being someone’s tool. But having her teammate’s voices in her ear, Clint going at an almost constant chatter, kept her present. Natasha asking for her opinion made her focus and stay engaged. The intense gaze Nat directed at her with each question told her that she knew what (Y/N) was feeling and she was doing it on purpose. (Y/N) was endlessly grateful.

Bucky happened to call just as they arrived back from her first extended assignment. She answered as soon as she saw his number and she knew he could tell something was different.

“Did something happen?”

“That depends, Good or bad?”

“You just sound happier is all.”

“Oh. Well I’m definitely happier.”

“Good.” He paused and just as (Y/N) was about to say something asked, “What changed? New friend or something?”

“Hah! (Y/N) has a new friend, that’s hilarious.” She giggled to herself for a moment before she could compose herself. “No, no new friends. But um… okay, this might sound dumb.”

“I doubt it.” (Y/N) didn’t continue, and Bucky grew worried. “(Y/N)?”

“I’m working with the Avengers.”

“You’re working with them?”

“I just got back from an assignment, actually.”

“How-” he cleared his throat- “How’s that going?”

“Really good, to be honest.” Bucky didn’t say anything and (Y/N) signed. “I’m sure you think it’s a bad idea.”

“It’s not that. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

"I'll be fine. It was my choice. And it's not like I'm working jobs on my own." Bucky huffed, not entirely pleased with her answer. "I don't know what to tell you. This is what I'm doing now."

"You were doing great as Stark's assistant."

"I was doing a great job tracking you. Because that's the only thing I was doing." He grumbled something along the lines of "At least you were safe," and (Y/N) shook her head. "Do you want me to send you updates? Because I can text you when I get back from missions. Let you know I'm home in one piece."

"Only if you tell me when you're hurt, too."

"Do you actually want to know when I'm hurt?"

"No. Maybe that's incentive for you to stay out of the line of fire."

"I think getting shot that first time with you was more than enough."

"Good."

"I'll keep you apprised then."

"Thank you."

Tentatively, (Y/N) asked, "How've you been?"

"I'm alright. Definitely been better."

"Oh?"

"Don't get me wrong, I've been worse too. But I haven't been in one place alone like this in… I can't actually remember the last time. It's kind of like learning to exist again."

“That’s the hardest part. Figuring yourself out after everything that’s happened.” Natasha slowed as she walked past and raised her eyebrows. (Y/N) shook her head and Nat shrugged and walked off to find Clint. (Y/N) lowered her voice before continuing. "I wish I could be there to help, but I know you need space."

"Yeah. And it's better for everyone this way."

"I don't know if it's better. It's definitely quieter."

"And safer."

"For now." The other end of the line is silent. “I can hear you rolling your eyes.”

“No you can’t.”

“Your eye-rolling silence is different from your regular silence. I know when you’re rolling your eyes.”

“I’m starting to get why you didn’t have friends in school.”

“Ugh, so rude.” Bucky laughed. “Look, all I meant is that being alone is safer for now. You’re not always going to feel like you don’t own your brain.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Maybe not. But what if I’m right?”

“Then that’d be great. But I’m not going to take that chance. Especially not with people I care about.” (Y/N) said nothing. "No quick comeback?"

"I don't know if you know this about me, but I hold within me an abundance of stupidity. I don't always have a retort prepared." She plopped down on a shipping container and leaned back against the hangar wall. "I trust you to know what's best for you. You're the only one who knows what's going on inside your head. When you're ready to share, I'll be here."

"Thank you. I'm sorry I'm making this hard on you."

"You're not, so don't be. I worry about you, but your situation isn't about me. I'm sorry that's how it came across."

"It's fine."

“Just-”

“(Y/N)!”

Clint appeared in front of her and, startled, she shouted her surprise.

“What?!”

“Debrief time, let’s go.”

“I’m on the phone.”

“Nat decided we’re meeting now, and she’s the boss.”

(Y/N) groaned. “Looks like I have to go.”

“Yeah, sounds pretty important.”

“Incredibly. Take care of yourself.”

“Mhm, you too.”

“Talk to you later.” They hung up and she shoved herself up from the container. “You have the worst timing.”

Clint grinned. “Who was that?”

“A friend.”

“Oh come on, you don’t have friends.”

“Neither do you.”

“Ooh, harsh.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and followed Clint out into the hallway. He stopped just short of their meeting room.

“You really should be a little more careful,” he said.

“About?”

“Taking calls like that. Steve’ll notice sooner rather than later.”

“Believe it or not, I have thought of that.” Clint kept his expression carefully blank. “Look, can we please just drop it? I never told him I’d keep him a secret. Just that I wouldn’t find him.”

“You’re sure?”

“I already got this lecture from Nat the first time he called. Let’s just get this meeting over with so we can move on.”

Clint and Natasha kept her secret as long as it remained one.

(Y/N) worked more frequent and more dangerous missions as time pressed forward, but she never failed to keep Bucky in the loop. She was concussed on one mission and she texted him as soon as she knew.  He called and kept her company after she was discharged from the infirmary. They talked for several hours and just as (Y/N) joked that they were tempting fate, Steve stepped into her room to check on her.

The first words out of her mouth were “I’m sorry,” quickly followed by “I can explain.” And she was lucky Steve gave her the chance.

Bucky stayed on the line while she explained the situation. That he was the one to call her. To ask that she stay away and stop looking. That she'd agreed, as long as he promised to keep in touch. That they’d been in contact for months without Steve knowing.

And he sat there, nodding while she talked, his frustration very obviously simmering just beneath his skin. But, in spite of the frustration and disappointment, he understood their reasoning.

When (Y/N) trailed off, Steve sat there on her bed, deep frown firmly in place. Eventually he sighed and asked Bucky if he was alright. Bucky said that he was and Steve nodded and told him to take care of himself. (Y/N) almost asked if there was more he wanted to stay, but Steve patted her shoulder and left before she could get the words out.

They didn’t speak for several months after that until (Y/N) felt compelled to fill Bucky in on what was happening with Ultron. She had been tossed around a bit by one of the bots during Tony’s party, but otherwise sat out for the whole ordeal. Bucky knew this and was still worried

In spite of staying out of the limelight with the Ultron incident and never going on missions where she would be publicly visible, someone, somehow, still knew she was working with the Avengers. And, lucky her, they followed her to the little cafe three blocks away from the Tower when she left to get herself, Steve, and Clint coffee one afternoon.

She could tell just by their shoes they were a federal agent. She couldn’t tell which branch, but it didn’t matter. Any attention from them was bad attention.

They followed her out of the cafe without even bothering to get their own drink as a cover. They tailed her for a good half hour as she led them around in circles around the Tower. They didn’t seem to even notice she was doing it. Eventually she stopped behind a dumpster and waited for the agent to stumble past her.

It wasn’t that (Y/N) wanted to draw attention to herself, but she couldn’t just let the guy follow her home. So she stopped and waited for him to come to her.

She leaned against the brick wall and, as they walked past her, asked, “Hey, what do you want?” The agent jumped and pulled his gun on her. She simply lifted the tray of drinks and her free hand. “That seems like a bit of an overreaction, now doesn’t it?”

“(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), correct?” he asked, shoving his gun into the back of his waistband.

“Why do you ask?”

He flashed a nondescript badge and clipped it back to his belt just as (Y/N) was trying to squint to read it.

“I have several questions you need to answer.”

“Who’s asking?”

“That’s need-to-know information, ma’am.”

“Okay, well I need to know, if you want me to answer your questions.”

The agent flushed red behind his shitty sports sunglasses. “What is your involvement with the Avengers?”

She decided to give him half the truth. “I’m one of Tony Stark’s assistants. Next.”

“You have ties to Hydra, correct?”

“Not that I know of.”

“There’s video evidence of you working with the Winter Soldier.”

“Where’d you get it from?”

“That’s classified.”

She raised her eyebrows. “But the Winter Soldier isn’t?”

“Well-”

“And if you already have such damning evidence, why do you need me to confirm anything?” She tilted her head to the side, but didn’t move otherwise. “Could it be you don’t actually have anything?”

His face turned three shades darker. “Why you-”

“I mean, I’m not actually guilty of anything, clearly. So I’m just gonna-” she pointed to the mouth of the alleyway- “head out.”

She left and returned to the tower to hand off Steve and Clint’s drinks. She apologized for them being cold, but Clint immediately drank his and Steve simply said he’d heat his up later.

Over the course of several weeks after that first incident, (Y/N) found that she was being followed by several different agents when she went out. She mentioned it briefly to Tony and began taking pictures of them when she had the opportunity. F.R.I.D.A.Y. was able to identify them and they all traced back to one person; Secretary Thaddeus Ross.

She immediately texted Bucky:

Hey, I’m being followed. I need a palace to lay low.. Do you trust yourself enough to help me?

The response was instantaneous:

When do you need to leave?

They decided she'd leave that night.

Steve walked in on her packing and just stared.

“What’s this?”

“I’m being followed. Something’s up.”

“Slow down.” He gently grabbed her wrists. “What’s going on?”

She sighed. “Three weeks ago I was followed out of that little cafe I like. Government agent. Couldn’t figure out what branch. I led him around in circles for a while, couldn’t lose him, and then he started asking all these questions about my affiliation with the Avengers and Hydra and Bucky and more of them just keep showing up whenever I leave the tower and I can’t take it anymore.”

“So you’re leaving?”

“I’ll be safe. Out of the public eye.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“I know. But I’m more worried about what’ll happen to you guys if I stick around. I mean… Secretary Ross is above the guys who’ve been following me, and that spells nothing but trouble.”

“We can help you, (Y/N).”

“Not without putting your own reputation on the line. And you guys are doing too much good to be dragged down by some ex-Hydra hero wannabe.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“I am. Something big’s on the way and you don’t need me under your feet when it happens.”

“Will you at least tell me where you’re going?”

“No, but you know who I’ll be with.”

“You’ve already spoken with him about this?” She nodded. “When do you leave?”

“Tonight.”

“So soon?”

(Y/N) shrugged and resumed her packing. “From what I can tell, whichever Agent-of-the-Day is following me is punching a time clock. They disappear after seven most nights and the next shift picks up some time before eight the next morning. The sooner I leave, the harder I can make it to follow me.”

“And if we need to find you?”

“You’ll figure something out.” She grinned at him. “You’re smarter than they are by a million.”

“I appreciate the confidence.”

“I’m serious about this though. And I’ll come back after whatever this is blows over. If we’re lucky, I won’t be alone when I do.”

“Just let me know when you’re settled, okay?”

She slipped her laptop into a backpack and crammed several shirts in on top of it. “I will.”

“Good. I want to know you’re safe.”

(Y/N) paused and looked him in the eye. “Y’know, sometimes I’m really glad you found me.”

Steve wrapped his arms around her and hummed softly. “So am I.”

She allowed herself to linger in the embrace for a moment before pushing him away and clearing her throat. Steve sat on the bed and watched her shovel a few more things into her bags before she tugged her coat on and reached for her backpack. He slung her duffel over his shoulder and walked with her to the elevator when she was ready to leave.

They stood in silence as she put on a stocking cap and carefully tucked her hair up into it. She put on a black medical mask and took her duffel from Steve when the elevator doors opened.

“Okay, well…” she slung the duffel over her shoulder and stepped into the waiting elevator. “I guess I’ll see you later then.”

Steve nodded. He didn’t leave until the doors closed.

(Y/N) spent a week traveling from New York to Bucharest, opting to travel by boat, train, and bus over planes. Bucky was waiting for her at the station when she arrived. (Y/N) approached tentatively, unsure of the reception she'd get. They stared at each other for a solid two minutes, each assessing their separate situations. When the corner of his mouth twitched up into the closest thing to a smile she'd ever seen from him, (Y/N) stepped forward and hugged him. He froze initially, but slowly wrapped his arms around her shoulders and relaxed in her hold.

"I've always secretly wanted to do this," she mumbled.

Bucky chuckled, the sound a warm rumble from deep in his chest. "I'm glad you got here safely." (Y/N) hummed. "You weren't followed, were you?"

"No. I think there might've been someone in Toronto, but they were easy to lose."

"Good."

He took her duffel bag and batted her hand away when she complained and tried to take it back. With (Y/N) tucked safely under his arm, Bucky led her back to his apartment.

(Y/N) sent Steve one quick text before permanently turning her phone off and removing the SIM card.

Arrived safely. We're fine. Don't look for us.

To (Y/N)’s surprise, and carefully hidden delight, they worked well together. There were no squabbles over who’s turn it was to cook or clean and they took weekly trips to the library and the market. They’d collapse on the couch together after a long day of errands and read. When they finished their books, they’d swap and settle back in.

In the beginning, (Y/N) slept on the couch. It was fine. Definitely not the worst back pain she’d experienced. But a month in, Bucky started having nightmares.

The first time it happened, she woke him up, calmed him down, and went back to the couch. The second time it happened three times in one night. She woke him up for the first and second and then crawled under the covers after waking him the third time.

“I could hurt you,” Bucky said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“(Y/N),” he warned.

“You won’t,” she repeated. She squeezed his hand. “Do you want me to leave?”

HIs eyes went wide. “No.”

“Then I won’t. And you won’t hurt me. The pact is sealed. You’re never getting rid of me. Okay?”

Bucky nodded. “Okay.”

“Good.” She shuffled closer and held his hand to her chest, fingers laced.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he murmured.

“Thank you for accepting the help.” Bucky squeezed her hand and hooked one foot around her ankle. “Go to sleep, Buck.”

They had their routine. It wasn’t anything exciting, but it worked for them. It was comfortable. They liked it.

They had a year and some change of peace before Steve appeared in their kitchen.

(Y/N) had returned from the market early and he was flipping through one of Bucky’s journals.

“That’s not yours.” Steve turned to face her and placed the journal on the counter. “If this is your way of telling me I was right about Ross, it sucks.”

“Yes and no. Ross is involved, but there was an attack on the U.N. They think Bucky’s involved.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “That’s absurd. We haven’t left the city in well over a year.”

“Which is why I’m here. We-”

“(Y/N), we have a problem.” Bucky rushed into the apartment and thrust a newspaper at her. On the front was a blurry picture of someone who might’ve looked a little like Bucky, provided you could squint hard enough.

“Where’d they get this picture?” (Y/N) held the paper out to Steve. “And why the fuck didn’t you get here sooner?”

“I-I don’t know-”

(Y/N) didn't leave time for Steve to answer and plunged her incorporeal hand through the floorboards, only to pull two packs out a moment later. She handed one off to Bucky and looped the other around her arms.

She slipped the journal from the counter into Bucky’s pack and asked, “How much time do we have?”

“Not enough,” Steve said.

“Then we leave. Right now.”

And then all hell broke loose.

Somehow, (Y/N) wasn’t placed in a cell beside Bucky. Instead, she was escorted to a conference room with Steve and Sam. With the amount of anxiety surging through her, (Y/N)’s powers flickered and Steve had to stop her drumming on the table when her fingers started sinking into the wood. She’d been so focused on the monitor and Bucky that she hadn’t realized what she was doing, let alone the weird looks she was getting.

She was first through the door, or wall, rather, when the lights went out. Her goal was to intercept and distract him long enough for Steve to find them and get the hell out. She managed to calm him long enough to guide him away from Tony. The plan went to hell after she took a particularly heavy blow to the back of the head. She crumpled to the floor and lost consciousness soon after.

She woke to Sam’s hands around her arms. She quickly got to her feet and Sam explained the situation as he led her out of the building. Steve was waiting for them in a beat up Bug with Bucky, soaked and unconscious in the back seat. She stuck to him like glue even after he woke up.

The following days blurred together. If there weren’t security footage, she wouldn’t believe it actually happened.

(Y/N) was taken to the Raft after the airport battle.

She didn’t have it nearly as bad as Wanda, but they’d put the same shock collars on both of them. Once, her powers flickered during an anxiety attack and she nearly pissed herself with the amount of electricity coursing through her body. (Y/N) opted to sleep through most of her time there.

After Steve rescued them, (Y/N) finally let herself cry. Mourn what she and Bucky had lost in Bucharest. The home they'd worked so hard to balance between the two of them. The time she'd finally gotten back with him. But she didn't let herself wallow. She knew there was still work to be done, so she followed Steve wherever he needed her. And when Bucky was fully deprogrammed, she asked if she could be allowed to stay with him in Wakanda. Keep him company. T'Challa very kindly gave her permission to do so.

She had three months with him before he was gone again in a violent flurry of aliens and ash.

In the following five years, (Y/N) shut down. She went where she was needed and did as she was asked. She didn’t get her hopes up at the prospect of retrieving the Infinity Stones. Couldn’t celebrate when those they’d lost returned and joined them on the battlefield. Couldn’t celebrate their victory. All she felt capable of was mourning. Mourning Vision, Tony, Natasha… even inevitably losing Bucky again.

So to protect herself, after Tony’s funeral and Steve’s goodbye, she left. Found a little apartment for herself in the city and tried to start over.

In spite of her efforts to keep herself busy, the loneliness was unrelenting.

Coming home one day, her knees nearly gave out at the sound of his voice.

“What the hell, (Y/N)?”

----------

Part 3

Ah yes, the patented Erin Cliffhanger (not actually patented, I do not have that kind of money.) The final chapter will be up next week!

Until then, I’d love to know what you thought of this chapter! What do you think of the reader’s relationship with the other Avengers? What would you have done if you were the one living with Bucky in Bucharest? Be sure like reblog, comment, and/or shoot me an ask and tell me all about it!

Tag List:

@ghostlyhamlet, @claws-of-vibranium, @creaturefeatures101-blog, @imagine-assembling-the-avengers, @buckysendoftheline, @ptprocrastination, @1950schick, @amayasymone23, @arfrona-and-marvel, @ek823, @fanaticfangirl001, @furrywerewolfcollector, @kissofvenom922, @dawn-phantomhive, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @mairhof1, @starryeyesbadguys, @trap-house-homiecide, @buckywhitewolfbarnes, @kaepm981, @howdoesoneadult, @pcdmesamidala, @thefandomplace, @sian22redux, @skeletoresinthebasement, @lady-thor-foster, @feelmyroarrrr, @jazzcutie, @gaytonystark, @hermionie-is-my-queen, @darling-loki, @geeksareunique, @nyxveracity, @lemonadeorange73, @princess-unicorn124, @tofeartheunknown, @queenoftheunderdark​, @avengerscompound​

[rebeccccccaaa]

🅐🅝🅣🅘-🅥🅐🅛🅔🅝🅣🅘🅝🅔

_______________________

🅝🅐🅣🅐🅢🅗🅐 🅡🅞🅜🅐🅝🅞🅕🅕 🅧 🅡🅔🅐🅓🅔🅡

🅢🅤🅜🅜🅐🅡🅨: fuck valentines day lol

🅦🅐🅡🅝🅘🅝🅖🅢: gxg, smut 18+, angst, friends with benefits (nat’s a huge giver in this)

🅐🅤🅣🅗🅞🅡'🅢 🅝🅞🅣🅔🅢 i know valentine’s day is long gone but it was also my birthday that day so i didn’t want to post anything and this idea came to me that night lmao hope this is still appropriate though :)

________________________

“Well, it’s like the wage gap. It doesn’t exist,” he taunted.

“What?” you falsely chuckled because you couldn't believe your ears.

“Oh come on. You don’t actually believe that feminist bull shit,” he said snarkily. 

“What's there to not believe; there’s literal facts, evidence, and statistics proving it’s a real thing. This isn’t like aliens where you can just form your own opinion based on the information you have. There is proof of a wage gap. Something you’ll never experience because you are a man,” you explained. 

God this man is so dense. You went on a couple dates with this guy not really that interested but gave him the benefit of the doubt. Well, that was a mistake. He’s a misogynistic asshole who thinks he can have a say in women’s benefits and lives like he has a fucking uterus. 

“I’m starting to see why you're still single,” he boasted.

“Oh as if you have women coming left and right begging for you to fuck them,” you threw back.

“You're a real bitch.”

“That’s your only comeback? Come on if you're gonna try to justify your misogynistic ways, at least be a little more clever with the comebacks.”

You stood up gathering your things and started to walk out when the big baby man called out again.

“You’re not gonna pay half?” he had the audacity to ask.

“Why don’t you pay like the ever so kind gentleman you are with your hard earned work money,” and with that you left and hailed a taxi.

There was only one place you had your mind on and you told the cab driver to drive you there as fast as possible. You quickly arrived at the avengers compound, seeing that Jarvis gave you access you went inside. 

“She’s in her room,” Steve said when he saw you.

“Thanks,” you walked straight to her room.

“I give up,” you said, opening and immediately closing her door.

“What?” she responded surprisingly. 

“I give up on men as a whole; there’s no hope for them,” you sighed flopping in her bed.

“Did you go on a date with that guy again?” she remembered you talked about him but you weren’t very fond of him.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I didn’t want to be alone today,” you said, lying on your side facing Nat.

“You could've come here sooner,” she said softly.

“Nat, we said we’d stop. We can’t do that anymore,” you said after a pause; you sat at the edge of her bed not being able to face her. 

“I know, but come on,” Nat came up behind you.

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” she whispered in your ear and you shivered.

“Nat,” you warned.

“Don't you wanna feel good tonight? Feel desired? I can do that for you, remember?” her hands wandered around your body caressing your thighs, your hips, your waist.

“Nat, we can’t keep doing this,” you try your hardest no to give in…

...but it’s just too fucking hard to resist her.

“It’s just for tonight,” she nibbled on your ear.

Her hands came and cupped your breasts as she kissed and sucked on your neck right under your ear. You just relaxed against her chest and she kissed you softly. Slowly she unzipped the dress you were wearing and peeled from your shoulders. You let her take it off and stood up quickly to discard the piece of clothing. You were simply left in a pair of panties since the dress looked better with no bra. 

As you kicked the dress off your feet, Nat sat up on her knees and kissed the skin between your shoulder blades. She pulled closer to her and kissed ear and neck ever so lightly wrapping her cold hand around your neck, tilting your head to give her more room and access. 

She stripped her shirt and pants and crawled back on the bed, resting her back against the headboard of her bed. You crawled up with her smiling softly and kissed her properly this time. Her lips are soft and plump against your own. You ultimately pressed your back against her chest. 

Her lips continued to press repeatedly against the hot skin of your neck and shoulder while her hands roamed along your body. Her fingers played with your nipples and your head fell back against her shoulder.

Her hands moved down your body and passed the lining of your underwear. You were wearing her favorite and she briefly wondered if maybe you had planned on coming to her all along. It didn’t matter when you lifted your hips so she could take them off. 

Her fingers rubbed gently around and along your folds, before grazing her fingertips on your clit. You sighed pleasantly and closed your eyes while Nat continued to knead your breasts with her other hand. 

She whispered in your ear but you couldn't understand too much because she inserted a finger passed your folds and you moaned softly. Her thumb rubbed small circles over your clit quickly bringing closer and closer to your orgasm. She inserted another finger deep inside you grazing your g-spot. You look down at her fingers moving quickly in and out of you and you moaned loudly. It was music to Nat’s ears and she smiled at the pleasure she was giving to you.

Her lips  felt so velvety on your skin and for a moment that was all you could think of. Her fingers distracted you again almost instantly though and your hips squirmed and wiggled as she pumped her fingers in and out of you. Your head fell back once again, your release approaching incredibly fast.

“Fuck, Nat. I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered.

“Come, baby. Come all over my fingers, make a mess baby.”

You felt your hips jolt and you practically gushed over her fingers. Her thumb continued small and slow circles on your clit riding out your orgasm. Your body trembled and Nat’s whispered quiet praises in your ear.

“Such a good girl, baby.”

“Angel, you did so well.”

“You looked so pretty coming all over my fingers. Can you give me one more?”

She laid you gently on your back and discarded her undergarments crawling back on the bed to you again. She moved your legs and spread them as far as they could before licking her fingers and circling her own clit; she was already soaking wet from making you come before she didn’t really need much more lubrication. 

Her leg came over one of yours and she settled her center over yours. Her hand came to your face and cupped your cheek lovingly and you saw in her eyes how dilated they were. You couldn’t dwell on the idea for long because Nat started grinding down stimulating your core again. 

Her thumb from the hand that was resting on your cheek came down and traced your lips as she continued swiftly moving against you. She leaned down and kissed you hard and passionately and you wrapped your hands around her. 

When she broke the kiss your hands came down to her hips guiding her down on you. Her head threw back and her brows furrowed as she moaned beautifully. You sat up as best as you could and she leaned down halfway to meet you. She pressed her forehead against yours; both of you panting hard as you chased each other's release. 

You moaned and closed your eyes but she couldn’t let you.

“Keep your eyes open, baby. Keep them on me,” she panted.

“I can’t fuck, it feel so good,” you whined.

“Come on, I wanna see you fall apart under me,” she forced you to look at her.

“Ugh, Nat!” you opened your eyes.

“That’s it, baby; fuck!”

She thrusted faster and soon after you both came against each other with shouts of each other’s names. She fell forward catching herself with her hands careful not to collapse on you. She moved gracefully off of you and glided towards the bathroom as you admired her glowing skin from behind.

She came back with a towel and cleaned you up, tossing the towel to the side and climbed into bed with you. You sat up however feeling out of place almost. You wanted to stay but you two had promised each other that you wouldn’t let this keep happening. 

“I should leave,” you whispered.

“Please, don’t. I don’t mind.”

“I know you don’t, that’s the problem,”

“Are you really that bothered by me? Afraid people are gonna have something to say about us?”

“Nat-”

“I’m serious; why won’t you give us a chance?”

You paused. You didnt want to tell her but she deserved an explanation; as dumb as it would've sounded.

“Can we go to sleep?” you asked.

Seeing as Nat didn’t want to push you further, she agreed and held you close as you two slept until the morning.

When you woke you hadn’t woken up with Natasha still in bed. 

You grabbed a big t-shirt she had in her drawers, most likely taken from Steve or Bucky. You stepped outside and found the hallway empty. You slowly walked towards the kitchen hearing muffled voices unsure of what they were talking about. 

You got closer but stayed behind a wall in the hallway so you could hear what they were talking about before you interrupt. You concluded that Nat was talking to the rest of the team.

“Why do you keep doing this?” it was Steve’s voice.

“You’d think I’d let it keep happening if I knew how to stop?” That was Nat’s voice.

“Leave the woman alone, she’s in love. Not many know how to control and resist. Especially from someone as beautiful as Y/n.” That sounded like Wanda’s voice. What do they mean?

“Can we stop talking about this, she's gonna be up any minute,” Nat said. 

“Nat you gotta tell her,” Steve said.

“No,” she reciprocated.

“Nat-”

“No! If I-,” she stopped and huffed before continuing, “If I tell her that I’m in love with her, she's gonna run away. I would rather have this, whatever this is, than nothing at all,” she explained.

You were taken back. She loves you, like actually.

You knew you shouldn’t have but you could stop yourself from running. You went back to her room and changed into the dress you were wearing the night before and walked out, you had to leave as soon as possible. Unfortunately you had to walk past the kitchen to go to the front door and when you did Nat called after you.

“Where are you going? Don’t you wanna maybe eat before you leave? It’s your favorite,” she said softly. 

“I should head home. Thanks uh, for letting me spend the night,” and with that you left and called a taxi to take you home.

“She fucking heard,” Nat said to the team who watched silently as you left.

“Thanks guys. Thanks for making me ruin the one good thing I had in my life,” Nat walked to her and slammed the door where she cried unsure of when she was going to see you again. If ever.

____________________

TAGLIST:

@mathletemadison

[luvcherry]

Chatroom [4] ◇

Natasha Romanoff x Reader. 3rd POV. Word Count: 4.3k.

Part Three || Part Five

Chatroom Masterlist

Summary: Y/n and Natasha deal with the aftermath of their argument after Natasha's party.

Warnings: hints on manipulation, elements of a toxic relationship, angsts (I promise it's not all bad lol)

A/N: This is kind of a filler chapter, but it was very necessary to clean up all the mess from last chapter. Next chapter is going to be a lot (and very fun). I can't wait for you guys to read the next chapter, but for now enjoy this one!

"You need to convince your parents to let you come with us over winter break! My asshole uncle has a winter home in Vail, and he invited me and my sister to come stay with my cousin. I was kind of shocked he invited us but I lowkey think my dad is holding something over his head because he's been nice for the last year — anyway, you should ask them. Amy is coming. Your parents like us, right? Is your dad still giving you a phone?"

It seems like Cindy was ignoring the fact that Y/n was in a daze. In fact it seems that both her and Amy have not noticed the shift in Y/n's behavior for the past four weeks. She's been jaded since she left Natasha's apartment with no more than a hug and a lonely walk to the train line. She went back to campus the next day feeling defeated and unsure of her relationship.

And it was her fault. She should have ignored Bucky and not let him get to her. He probably just picks at her because she is considerably younger, but she shouldn't be dumb enough to fall for it.

The communication between her and Natasha has been few and far between. With the drama that happened after Natasha's birthday party and finals coming up, she has no time to really talk to Natasha. Their first real conversation has to be about what happened that night. Y/n isn't sure if she's ready to talk about it though. Right now she takes the occasional message from Natasha as a good thing but god does she miss talking to her for hours and into the night.

Only talking just to ask each other everyday 'how are you' is painful; that is not what couples do. The conversations never went beyond them responding to that dreadful question.

Her impending finals and papers she has to turn in acts as a distraction for Y/n. She can blame the time she is spending preparing for the end of semester as the reason why she is not talking to Natasha. She knows she is lying to herself, but it placates her for the time being.

"Seeing that I pass chem, my dad will probably buy me the phone, but-"

"It's about time! We're tired of having to communicate with you via carrier pigeon," she joked.

"I know. But Cindy, I need you to understand that there is a 0% chance my parents will allow me to go to Vail with you guys, especially if I'm gone for the holidays."

"You just have to ask! You'll be with us. Nothing will happen to you. You have to be there Y/n! You know how fun it will be to bring in the new decade with us in a place like Vail? The place is beautiful and has a gorgeous view."

"You know how my parents are."

"Okay and you're going to be 20 next year. What are they going to do when you get married and have your own family and don't visit for the holidays? Are you going to be under their rule forever?"

Cindy was hitting such a sore topic without even knowing. Y/n wanted to hang out with her so she could take a break from studying but still have a distraction from thinking about her current relationship. However, her friend keeps poking at her about this stupid trip to Vail. It sounds like a fun idea, but there is no way her parents would allow her to go.

She feels pressured by her friend who is nagging her. It’s like white noise is filling up her head, and somehow she is thinking more and more about her problem with Natasha. There is an uncomfortable question that feels like it is on the tip of her tongue. She almost feels like she is going to experience a case of word vomit that will make things worse for her. She can't want to admit her entire dilemma to Cindy, not today at least, but she can't stop herself from seeking advice that she desperately needs.

"Can I ask you something?"

Cindy lifts her brows in curiosity. Y/n completely disregarded her challenge and Cindy finally notices the distressed look on her face. Instantly the topic of the trip to Vail is pushed to the side due to her friend’s peculiar behavior.

Y/n sighs before she talks, "I like someone and I think I really messed up."

That is the last thing Cindy expected Y/n to say. Just getting her to admit a guy is cute is like pulling teeth, so imagine her surprise when Y/n admits that she likes someone. As much as she wants to know every single detail, she can read the distress on her friend’s face when she finally pays closer attention. If she asks a prying question, Y/n will shut down and feel overwhelmed.

"How did you mess up?"

"I kind of blew things out of proportion — but I also feel like my feelings are justified? I don't know...it's confusing."

"No, no, it makes sense," Cindy tried to reassure her, sensing that she was beginning to shut down before the conversation really got started. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but what happened?"

"Do you know a girl with the last name Michaels and is a blonde?"

"It doesn't ring any immediate bells but maybe Amy does? Why? What's this all about Y/n?"

"I think the person I like has dated this girl and it didn't end well but my jealousy got the best of me when I found out and I think I ruined things."

"Was there a reason you felt jealous?"

"Because I'm stupid — you know that I'm not use to dealing with stuff like this and I feel completely lost and confused. I just want things to be right again because I really like this person. They're perfect, and so kind to me. We relate to having strict parents growing up, but they're so independent and I look up to them. I just don't want this to be over."

Cindy didn’t know what to say. She knows how to give people relationship advice, as she has done it thousands of times before, and she herself has been in relationships that failed and had potential boyfriends that went nowhere. She knows what to say when someone is hung up over someone they really like. Yet she doesn’t know how to tailor her advice for Y/n. If this was one of her sorority sisters she would tell them to move on because there are plenty more people on campus they could be spending their time with. But Y/n is different from all of her other friends. She is shy and somewhat vulnerable to being jerked around emotionally.

“Did you talk to them about how you feel?”

“Yea and we ended up having an argument. We haven’t been talking as much since and it’s just weird because we used to talk everyday.”

Cindy has too many questions in her head that she is not going to get the answer to today. There is something that Y/n is not telling her. She is able to fill in some of the gaps herself but she isn’t quite sure if it’s true or not. Her main suspicion is that this person isn’t just someone Y/n likes, but someone she is dating; and it’s not Luke because he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut about it. Cindy feels slightly hurt that Y/n didn’t tell her or Amy that she is seeing someone, but she understands why Y/n is so hesitant to be open about it.

“Well I’ll say this. From what you’re telling me, I don’t really think you are blowing things out of proportion. If someone is being secretive yet they claim that they really like you, then that is a major red flag. It’s normal to want to know what they’re hiding from you. If you believe that this person really cares for you then they should be honest. But you also have to be able to stick up for yourself and say something, but — I hate to say it — if you can’t do that then you don’t need to see this person, or anyone else for that matter. I have been the girl who has made stupid decisions to save a relationship that was doomed for the start. I’m not saying that it’s the same for you, but if you try to talk to this person and they completely cop out or blame you, then it’s not going to be pretty. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Tears began to prick her eyes, something she wanted to desperately avoid in front of her friend, but she can tell that Cindy notices her watery eyes. It’s a miracle that they don’t fall even if they threaten to.

Cindy is right. Her friend is completely right even if the information is too much to take in. It’s just that everything had been so perfect up to this point. Y/n was willing to disregard Natasha lying about her age and being older than she originally said because there could be a reason for that. But the information about some girl she may have dated before that goes to Brecker really shook her up. It has to be some weird happenstance, but Bucky said the girl was her age when Natasha dated her. Y/n didn’t want to be liked because she was young and someone’s type. She wants to be liked because she’s herself.

Had she jumped into relationships prematurely? Should her first relationship be with someone she already goes to school with?

“Y/n, are you okay?”

“I guess I’m fine, just confused. Studying for finals is really stressing me out but I don’t want to get about Na — them. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m ignoring them.”

“Just talk to them. That is the only way to solve this — it’s the only thing that will give you peace of mind.”

Y/n sighs as if a huge weight has been lifted on her shoulder. She knew all along that she had to talk to her girlfriend, but hearing it from someone else was sobering. She just has to toughen up, and the one person who has been pushing for her to do so should be the most supportive.

“I hope I’m not prying,” Cindy starts, breaking the small moment of silence, “but did this person you like have a serious relationship with the blonde with the last name Michaels?”

“I don’t think so. I honestly don’t know if this person exists or if someone was trying to mess with me and get under my skin. If they were, they definitely did.”

“The person you like didn’t tell you about them?”

“No. I really don’t care about who they dated before, but the person who told me made it seem like I was getting played or not important. I just really, really want to know who this girl is. If she does exist I just want to know her side of the story. I feel like I’m betraying the person I like, but I’m so desperate to know.”

Cindy feels very sympathetic for her friend. The last person on earth who deserves this is Y/n. “How about I ask Amy for you? We can all meet on Wednesday and talk about it.”

“Okay…okay — yea that — we should do that.”

There was some apprehension in her voice. Y/n doesn’t want to know whether this girl is really Natasha’s ex or just a made up person used to scare her, but she needs to know at the same time.

Cindy reaches out to pat her shoulder reassuringly. Y/n feels somewhat better after getting that off of her chest even if it wasn’t the full story. She’s going to tell Cindy and Amy about her relationship one day, but she has to feel confident in it before she does.

-

“Boss wants the reports on his desk by 5:30.”

“What? He of all people should know it can take days to finish a report like this. I just started it this morning.”

“Well, you know how Tony is. See you tomorrow.”

Frank walks away from Natasha’s desk without even so much as a sympathetic glance. He was once in Natasha's position, in fact she took over his old job. She sighs in frustration. The demand of her job is usually a cakewalk for her, she spent her college years preparing herself for this, but she’s too distracted to think in a straight line.

Her early morning message of ‘how r u doing? Hope u have a good day’ went unanswered. Granted Y/n has a lot on her plates with finals, but Natasha cannot ignore how short their conversations have been.

There was a big problem that had to be addressed, but Natasha finds that it would be much easier to sweep things under the rug. Y/n insistence on asking too many questions she truly doesn’t want to know the answer to gets a little annoying. Natasha did not have this problem before; not until Bucky had to say something.

She has seen him since but hasn’t said much to him. She cannot for the life of her understand why Bucky was so keen on sabotaging what she has with Y/n. Sure, her love life has been rocky and she has done some not so good things, but her intentions, while not all pure, are very different this time.

She knew Y/n’s location due to the settings in her friend’s Chatzy room, but it’s not like she could’ve planned Y/n stumbling across their chatroom. Her reaching out to Y/n once seeing where she was from did make her reach out, but only because she was close to her. Their first conversation was just an innocuous conversation. But the moment Y/n said that she couldn’t have a myspace because her parents had access to her email, Natasha knew exactly what kind of person Y/n was. Natasha had a strict upbringing and Y/n had all the tale-tell signs of having parents who were similar to hers.

While Y/n was naïve, her age didn’t put Natasha off. Natasha has not had a girlfriend who was within 2 years of her own age in a long time. She cannot pin-point the reason why she gravitates towards younger girls, or at least she doesn’t really want to. When said that Natasha had a type, he only meant the age of her girlfriends and how they were always in college. Natasha���s previous girlfriend’s were between the ages of 19 and 23. Y/n being 19 was a little concerning to Natasha’s friends because she is getting older. They didn’t know what type of person Y/n was, but they didn’t want a 19-year-old to get caught up in a life she wasn’t ready for.

Natasha lives a fast-paced life. Even though she has an office job, she finds herself traveling for work way more than the average person with an office. And her weekends are just as busy. When she first moved to the city she was partying, but three years later and her weekends are a little more “classy.” She often attends conventions, dinner parties that are really just a front for networking, and outings with friends. She’s a working professional that made smart moves when she was in grad school. Her life is strikingly different from Y/n’s undergraduate college life. What 19-year-old would fare well at an office dinner party with 30 and 40 something year old men at the table with her?

That girl Bucky mentioned to Y/n at the party, Steph, was not as significant as Bucky made it seem to Y/n. She was a fling, the two met at a club in the city and the black ‘X’ on the back of her hand had been washed off in the bathroom. Natasha wasn’t looking for a relationship at the time, more casual situations were fitting for her life. She didn’t seek Steph out nor did she know that she went to Brecker. The clubs around the town that Brecker’s campus was built in were lackluster to some of the students, and many of them would make the hour-and-a-half journey to the city for something more exciting, and that was Steph.

With everything weighing on her mind, Natasha wonders if she should initiate the awkward conversation. But so far it has been Y/n that has caved. She was the first one to send a meek ‘hello’ via their Myspace messages just days after Y/n left that morning.

Natasha didn’t mean to come off as so cold, but she did. She is not a person who likes to be questioned when she has shown no signs of wrongdoing. She gets defensive because she feels the urge to defend her name. That’s something she had to learn the hard way when she was thrusted into a completely different life than the one she was used to growing up when she first began college. Yes, Y/n is her girlfriend, but accusatory tones always seem to trigger her. When she was young she would get upset, tears spilling from her eyes and repeating that she was the word “sorry.” That changed when she earned a sense of self, but because defending herself is a new tool in her emotional toolbox, she has not honed her ability to defend herself by denying everything. The outright denial is harmful for someone like Y/n, and Natasha of all people should know that.

Once those papers are done and slapped on her bosses’ desk, Natasha is headed home to the bottle of wine she bought the night before. She has tomorrow off, a rare request she put in so she could have a day in her apartment doing nothing.

On her way home she walks by the cafe where she and Y/n first met in person. She always passes it and it always puts a pep in her step, but the past four weeks have been sour. She doesn’t even stop in for coffee, now making a brew for herself at home so she could avoid the place as much as she can.

She should really, really talk to Y/n. She’s dying to talk to her about things beyond the asinine small talk. She knows it’s wrong but something in her wants to hear Y/n beg a little bit. There is something about her being a bit too naive for her age that Natasha gravitates towards her. She’s easy to pacify and convince.

Her apartment is a bit of a mess since she’s been jammed up with more work than usual. It turns out the work she tried to get ahead on before taking vacation time was more than she expected. She came back to work finding out that she was actually behind and it’s been impossible to catch up, especially with all the strife in her personal life. Her work hours have been extended which means she’s too tired to tidy up her place.

In the back of her mind is that nagging voice telling Natasha to get on Myspace and see if Y/n is online. Her pride is not more important than her relationship.

-

All her laptop is good for right now is working on her Diversity of Life research paper.

Y/n usually liked to reserve her laptop for the times she talked to Natasha or did other things on her laptop that involved her. However, making treks to the library in the snow and icy sidewalks was not fun. Her laptop had all the programs she needed anyway, so why not stay in the comfort of her dorm?

Y/n did not think her roommate could get any worse, but she is a completely different beast during finals time. She’s always nagging Y/n to turn her desk light off as early as 8:30 so she can wake-up early to study. She makes it virtually impossible for Y/n to do anything let alone be comfortable in her own dorm. The winter weather prevents her from going to either Amy or Cindy’s dorm seeing that they live nearly half-way across campus in sorority housing.

Anytime after 8 o’clock and Y/n is in the student lounge on her floor. A few of the other girls on the floor stop by to use the microwave, giving her a sympathetic glance when they see the amount of books she has open on the table.

Buried in her sea of open tabs is Myspace. She found herself tempted to refresh the webpage every 30 seconds to see if she’s gotten any new notifications. Using work as a distraction was beginning to fail her; the topic of monocots vs dicots just doesn’t hold her attention for that long.

Y/n gives it one more try; she finds the Myspace tab and refreshes the page. It’s uncommon for her to have many notifications, but she has three: new messages, new friend requests, and new photo comments. Her eyes gloss over the other two and go straight to her messages. Natasha is online and the message is from her.

‘Hi what are u doing?’

Y/n was surprised to see her contacting her so late. It’s near 10 o’clock and she knows Natasha has work in the morning. Not to mention how their conversations (if they can even be called that) have been occurring during the earlier hours of the day. She’s more apprehensive than excited to see the message. The message is not alarming itself, but she worries about where the conversation might go.

‘Working on a paper and studying for finals’

‘ur finals r next week right?

I dont really remember Ive been reeeeaaaaalllllyyyy busy with work’

“Yea they start next weeks but I want turn in my papers as early as I can’

‘call me I want to talk to u’

The abrupt turn in the conversation made Y/n panic. She read in a magazine once that if the person you're dating says ‘we need to talk’ then a break-up is coming. Natasha’s words aren’t quite the same, but she still takes it as a bad thing. There is a phone in the student lounge that anyone on the floor can use, but what if someone walks in while she’s using it? How awful would it be if someone walked in the middle of her getting broken-up with.

‘I can’t.’

‘Yes u can. I need to talk to u. Call me.’

Natasha gives her no other choice. Y/n is sure that if she decided to ignore her request then things will for sure become worse. At least if she calls tonight she can try to salvage whatever this mess is.

She presses Natasha’s number into the old buttons on the phone. The phone rings for a little bit longer than she wished until she hears a click.

“Hey sweet girl.”

From the way she slurred her words and her salacious greeting, Y/n knew something was off. At least nothing in her tone indicated that a break-up was imminent.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing?”

“I already told you,” Y/n giggled little, finally realizing that Natasha had too much to drink, “I’m working on school stuff.”

“Yea you did — sorry.”

“Um — Natasha, are we good?”

“Yea. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Because we had an argument and have barely been talking to each other lately.”

“It’s nothing…it wasn’t anything, okay?”

“I think we should talk about it though-“

“I just said everything is okay. You can’t fall for Bucky trying to get under your skin. You’re not a little girl, do you believe everything someone tells you.”

“No, but he is your friend. How could I not believe him? And don’t pull the ‘little girl’ card with me! You know I’m new to all of this — a-and you’re supposed to be nicer to me. You’re my girlfriend,” Y/n whines. She hates to sound so desperate, and worries that someone can possibly hear her, but that’s exactly how she feels: desperate. It’s unfair for Natasha to put the blame on her. Just because she’s inexperienced when it comes to dating doesn’t mean she isn’t aware when she’s being wrongly blamed for something. In her eyes no one person is to ‘blame’, not even Bucky who basically caused all of this.

The line is silent for a good thirty seconds and Y/n thought Natasha hung up on her until she heard a deep sigh down the line.

“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to argue with you. Things are complicated.”

“They don’t have to be.”

“But they are. I want you to understand, but it’s not easy. I don’t think you’re a “little girl” but I also know what it’s like to be a 19-year-old girl who grew up with really strict parents. There are going to be things you don’t understand and that’s okay.”

Y/n doesn’t feel like this conversation has given her all the clarity she’s needed, but she focuses on the fact that her and Natasha aren’t ending their relationship.

“I’m sorry too. I should have said something earlier, but I’ve been so busy with the semester ending.”

“I wanna see you before you leave me for a month.”

“I can’t. My parents are coming to get me on Friday. But I’ll be returning to campus early. Maybe I can see you then?”

“Okay, that sounds good. Now I should let you go back to study and go to bed. I have to go in early tomorrow.”

“Okay. Have a good night.”

“You too sweetheart.”

[l4verq]

dumb theories | b.b

bucky barnes x reader

in which you have an incredibly dumb idea in hopes of seeing him again

warnings : angst, fluff

fic : one shot

a/n : kinda inspired by new moon, yall DON’T do this shit lol Bella was dumb. and so is y/n 😳

|| gif by @love-ha-fge ||

The first time it happened, you thought you were going insane.

You had to take the subway that day cause your stupid car wouldn’t start for some reason.

It would be the third day in a row that you were late if you wasted any more time and you were already tottering a treacherous line of possibly being fired due to “mandatory cutbacks���.

So, you make a mental note to ring up your sister cause she’s always known her way around cars and rush towards the metro station.

It’s a Wednesday, quite possibly the busiest you’ve seen the subway.

You clump your way through the swarm of people, eyes on the ground, trying not to step on others.

But it’s hard cause you’re in these ridiculously high heels that you were sure you’d love during a late night shopping spree.

And your worst fear comes true when your ankle buckles, legs wobbling as you try not to fall.

But a strong hand grips your arm, steadying you on to your feet.

It takes you a spilt second to whip your head around because you know it’s him, his touch.

You look around frantically, searching for those blue eyes that you’ve missed so desperately.

Your hope dwindles with each bump into a passerby, harsh reality sinking in again.

Which hurts the same as when he left you, a solemn farewell on the rooftop of your apartment.

“It’s safer for you if I’m not around.”

You could only stand and stare as he left, metal arm glinting in the afternoon sun, hoping he’d turn around.

The second time, you’re black out drunk in a random club with your co-workers.

Not your best look but you were too miserable to be alone that night.

A pep talk to yourself about how you deserve someone better than him and five shots later, he’s off your mind which feels nice, for a change.

But you could never really take alcohol that well so you’re bent over a toilet seat, hurling next to a couple making out.

You just wanted to go home.

But home wasn’t where your apartment was.

It was in the arms of a grumpy 106 year old supersoldier, who looked way too good for his age.

The next day, you’d woken up in your bed, neatly tucked in.

Everything the same as before, only the window, you always kept shut, was wide open.

Sometimes you could swear, you see a tint of ivory out of the corner of your eye, while in the grocery store, in the park, on your way to work.

But you always find nothing when you glance over.

Your sister claims your misery is progressing to delusions, that you need to get laid.

You flick her off, half convinced by her theory.

Yet here you are, hands clutching on to the railings as you try not to look twenty stories down.

You had your own theory to test out.

Not your smartest idea, could possibly be the last idea you have.

But the consequences somehow seemed to dull at the thought of possibly seeing him again.

You teeter to the very edge, hands slowly letting go as you fall.

It’s all a blur of wind and glasses until everything goes black.

“You got lucky,” The man smiles, “Bucky took most of the hit.”

He introduces himself as Finnick, a pudgy man with thick rimmed glasses.

“Are you a doctor?” You croak, eyes skimming over the tubes jammed in your arm.

You were propped up against a pillow, a machine beeping next to you.

He gets up to leave, “Close enough. All you need is one more good night’s rest and you’ll be good as new.”

You close your eyes as your stupid decisions come rushing back to you.

“Is he-.”

“Pissed, yeah. He’s been waiting for you to wake up since Tuesday.” Finnick smiles, sadly.

Tuesday? How many days had it been?

You don’t have time to think cause he arrives at the door, in his daunting kevlar suit.

The stupid mask over his pretty face once again.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble as you brace yourself for him to chew you out.

But instead he storms in and pulls you in a tight embrace, stoically.

Your free hand limps around his waist.

You smile cause you’ve missed this so much and so has he.

But he pulls away and gruffs, “That was stupid.”

You avert your gaze to the floor, gnawing at your lip.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, sorry doesn’t even begin to cut it. You could have died.” His voice breaks.

All the what ifs had haunted him for the past two days as you laid unconscious, regretting ever leaving you.

“I kinda did when you left.” You confess, unable to meet his eyes.

His rugged hand reaches to lift your chin to look him in his coarsened blue eyes.

It’s at times like this when he wants to run away with you somewhere safe, where he could tell you how much he loves you.

But he knew his demons would catch up to him, they always did.

And he couldn’t let them taint you too.

“You’re dramatic.” His face softens underneath the mask.

You smile and he smiles too thinking about how he’d fall off another building just to see that again.

Hand slowly reaching out to the back of his mask, he flinches slightly as you pull it off.

The only person he’d let touch his face willingly.

You notice a new ridged line leading from his mouth to his ear.

“S’nothing.” He assures you, your finger tracing the mellowed scar.

“Did it hurt?” You ask, already knowing what he’d say.

You never asked much about what he did, but you knew enough.

Why he couldn’t stay the night, why he sneaked out your window each time.

He shakes his head, kissing your hand.

“Do you have to go?” You whisper, heart sinking again.

He had to.

Hydra still did daily check-ins though the ‘treatments’ stopped years ago and he couldn’t risk anything.

Not when so much was on the line.

“Only after you fall asleep.”

“And when I wake up?”

“I’ll be right next to you.”

-

a/n : smone stop me frm commiting infidelity, tfatws is making me fall for bucky even more and steve’s pissed😳🏃🏻‍♀️ lol im still cringing as i post this👁👽

[spacecasewriter13]

When the Lights Go On Again by @spacecasewriter13

Story Summary: It is May of 1946, over a year after his fall from the Hydra train and losing his left arm, and James "Bucky" Barnes is struggling to adjust. Working as an analyst at the New York City SSR branch, Bucky tries to put the war and all of its sorted memories behind him. However, try as he might he is plagued by thoughts of Magdalene "Maggie" Ramirez, a Women's Army Corps (WAC) Corporal he met in London and hasn't spoken to since before his fall in January of 1945. Little does he know that Maggie, in her struggle to put the war behind her, has moved to the city and looking for a job with the New York Bell Telephone Company as a switchboard operator. Now, by sheer dumb luck, they are reunited as they both fight come to terms with what they were to one another during the war, and work to figure out how to move forward in a world that was unprepared to deal with the consequences of war in the unsteady peace.

Chapter 22: Take My Hand

Chapter Summary: Bucky has Maggie over for dinner and he makes a few realizations about them both.

Excerpt:

“When the lights go on again, all over the world, and the ships come sailing in all over the world…and rain or snow is all that may fall from the skies above….” Bucky hummed under his breath, his pointer and middle finger scratching at his palm.

And he scratched and scratched and scratched until he scratched a little raw patch, hot and angry but it was the only thing that kept him firmly planted in the present—rooted in the moment. And he was rooted. His mind spinning in circles. Around and around and around it went. His mother was in the hospital, and so he was here, worrying about all the possibilities and the things he couldn’t control.

Looking up he glanced around. He was in a quiet spot just outside the hospital ward doors. Not quite a garden, but a little grassy area with a bench. It was sticky and warm, the humidity in the air was ticking upward, rain clouds brewing overhead, making the very air crackle with energy.

He was bouncing one of his legs. It was one of the reasons Becca had kicked him out. Visitation hours weren’t over for a little bit yet, but Becca had come on shift, swept through the ward on her way to her rotation, and after seeing him in this state had immediately ordered him to go home.

So here he was, sitting out on a hard concrete bench, trying to convince himself to go home. He hadn’t been sitting out here long, just long enough to convince himself that if he left he was going to miss something important. That if he left, he was going to regret it.

Bucky wanted to be here if—should the—when.

No. No he was just tired. His mind was running wild with fear and exhaustion. He had every right to be tired. He’d been here in twelve-hour shifts over the past 72 hours. His mother had been admitted with a high fever and difficulty breathing. Now, they were having a hard time keeping her fever down, and her lungs and the rest of her were already so weak the doctor’s prognosis wasn’t looking good. The next 48 hours were going to be telling, and there was nothing for them to do but wait and pray.

Bucky was good at waiting. He could wait. He knew patience, knew and had learned how to be still even when danger and death loomed close. But that had been when his life was on the line. Now he couldn’t bear the idea of standing still, of waiting, or praying at a time like this. And going home it would only be worse with the empty house, where he would spend the night pacing the hall, waiting for the phone call that he needed to come quick.

But he did need to go home. Needed to grab some groceries and make dinner so that Becca had something to eat, too, when she came off shift. Needed to try to get some rest so that he could think clearly when it came down to making important decisions—vital decisions.

Right now it all felt insurmountable: the bare cupboards, piles of dishes, the laundry, and the hundreds of other household tasks that had been all but abandoned while he and Becca had tried to look after their mother at home. And since the situation had escalated enough to require hospitalization, he hadn’t been doing much other than eating some, napping where he could, and doing his best to ensure Becca did the same.

The fatigue was catching up with him, and his body was complaining loudly. His eyes throbbed, his shoulder ached, and his phantom limb pain shot through his stump and into his shoulder and back.

Bucky didn’t want to leave, not when his mother was so weak, and her life hung in the balance. He certainly couldn’t stay—and in truth he didn’t really want to stay either.

He hated hospitals, the smell, the sound, the very feel of the place. The memories of his long-term stay at Walter Reed made his skin crawl, and he could feel the air of despair that hung over the whole place, sinking its claws into him. But he’d been away for almost three years, and although his mother had never had a medical emergency like this while he was overseas (to his knowledge), he couldn’t and wouldn’t shirk his responsibility to her and his family now.

If pressed, Bucky would admit there were a thousand other places he’d rather be. But in truth there was really only one other place he’d wish to be if he wasn’t at his mother’s bedside.

Flexing his hand, Bucky shoved it into his pocket and pulled out a ratty bit of card stock. Unfolding it carefully, he held it in hand and admired the painting on the front. “Taunton Green Looking North, Taunton, Mass.” The caption read, describing the view of a street corner. Bucky flipped it over and smiled at the message on the back in her steady shorthand.

To Continue Reading Please Visit Ao3

[maddiewritesstucky]

Maddieeeee you remember that tiktok or w/e challenge a while back where girlfriends would walk into the room naked while their bfs were on the phone of playing video games etc to see how they reacted? Imagine bucky doing that to Steve 👀😏

Ahhh thank you THANK YOU for this, Nonnie! 😍 You have put me straight in my feels for a pair I have not revisited for far too long!

I’m not sure which verse you were thinking with this one, but the moment I saw it, the pair that immediately came to mind was our darling Silver Steve and Bucky!! Here’s what I’m thinking...💕

So I don’t HC this Bucky as being particularly ‘millennial’ in his persona. He’s in his mid 20s, but I see him as a bit of an old soul; definitely aware of all the trends and the lingo and it’s part of the social culture of his peer group, but he kinda just does his own thing

That being said, when this particular tiktok trend crops up, Bucky thinks this could be a fun one to spring on his significantly older boyfriend - who is very much not up with the play on these things

They’re not living together, but they’re at the point when they’re in each other’s pockets all the time anyway, seeing each other 4 or 5 days out of the week, whether it’s coffee on a lunch break at work or meeting for dinner, most weekends at least one full day/night spent together

It’s one of these weekends when Bucky picks his moment

Now, this challenge is not an easy one to pull off with Steve, because when he’s with Bucky, he’s with Bucky - full attention, not dicking around with his phone or gettting distracted by other things. Which is wonderful and makes Bucky feel so seen and valued, but it also makes it very hard to hit him with surprise nudity

So one perfectly ordinary Saturday when they’re hanging out at Steve’s place, when Steve ducks out of the room to go call the garden supplies company they’re about to drive out to just to make sure they have what he needs, Bucky decides this is as good an opportunity as he’s gonna get

He can hear that Steve’s taken himself to the kitchen, so Bucky strips off in the living room, and gets his phone ready on camera mode (he has no intention of actually putting this on tiktok - this is just for his own amusement)

He realises, as he piles up his clothes on the couch, that he actually has no idea what kind of reaction he’s expecting from Steve. They’ve seen each other naked countless times at this point, but it’s always been in the context of intimacy. Casual nudity is not a common thing between them yet, aside from taking their time getting dressed in the morning or after showers

So his heart’s beating a little fast when he walks into the kitchen, and finds Steve standing there with the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder, scribbling notes as he questions the person on the other end of the line about planter pot sizes for citrus saplings

Steve’s eyes flick up to him, and his smile is immediate when his gaze lands on Bucky’s face, but it takes a second for realisation to settle in. He looks Bucky up and down, and Bucky can actually see the moment it clicks for Steve that Bucky is standing there completely naked

And this is where all those tiktok videos had not prepared Bucky, because there’s no darkening of Steve’s eyes or flushing of his cheeks. He doesn’t curse under his breath or drop his phone on the spot or sprint over to Bucky with hands outstretched

What happens, is Steve’s kind, handsome, utterly readable face breaks into the most awed, adoring grin Bucky has ever seen

I mean he lights up. Eyes wide and sparkling, smile enormous...just pure radiant joy, tinged with disbelief. It actually chokes Bucky up a little

Steve murmurs a hurried thanks and hangs up the phone, shaking his head softly as he walks toward Bucky with that thousand watt smile reaching all the way to his eyes

“Sweetheart, what...you’re naked, what’s...did you wanna...are you making nudes? What, what is this...”

Bucky is giggling like hell, cheeks full on pink as he watches Steve’s brain and mouth stumble over what’s going on, why he’s suddenly (joyously) looking at his boyfriend naked

“I’m not ‘making nudes’,” Bucky laughs, ending the recording and putting his phone down so he can lean into Steve’s arms circling around him. “It’s a dumb tiktok thing, you walk in naked to see what your boyfriend does.”

“Oh,” Steve smiles, looking like he’s never been happier to have no clue what’s going on, “well did I pass the tick tock?”

God, Bucky is so gone on him

It takes them another hour and a half to leave the house and head to the garden shop, because now that Steve has his hands on Bucky’s bare skin he’s not particularly interested in removing them. Not until he’s touched all of it. With all of himself.

Now let’s not forget, Nonnie, that this Steve may be silver, but he’s still Steve, and he likes a challenge as much as the next guy

Which is why, three weeks later, when Bucky is sitting at Steve’s dining table on a sunny Wednesday afternoon, working remotely on his laptop...Steve suddenly saunters in without a stitch on him

Bucky almost spits his coffee all over his keyboard

“Steve!” he gasps, surprised as hell but not at all mad at the situation when his eyes rake down all that bare skin. “Why are you naked?!”

Steve looks so damn proud of himself as he comes to stand right in front of Bucky, arms outspread and face triumphant

“I’m tick-tacking you!”

...Bucky laughs so damn hard, there are actual tears in his eyes

“Oh my god, that’s not what—it’s not—”

He can’t even get the words out, and Steve just stands there with his hands on his hips looking pleased with himself as Bucky loses the plot

It gets even worse when Steve asks in complete earnestness “did I win?”

It’s quite the experience, laughing so hard you can’t see straight whilst also being rather suddenly turned on, because that’s Steve’s entire naked body right there, and it is nice 👌👌👌

“God, I love you,” Bucky sighs, easy as anything; swiping his hands across those joy-filled tears spilling down his face

It’s not until Steve’s whole face turns soft and wondrous that Bucky realises what he’s just said

What he’s just said...for the very first time

“You love me...” Steve breathes, not a question but a confirmation, and it hits Bucky hard just how true it is

“I do,” he nods, his smile and his conviction only growing, “I do love you, Steve.”

Bucky’s pretty sure Steve already knew, just like he knew somewhere deep down too that Steve felt the same. But god, hearing Steve say it back out loud?

“I love you, too, Bucky. You got no idea how much...”

Maybe it should be comical, Steve standing there naked in the kitchen in the middle of the afternoon as they exchange confessions of love for the first time, but...it’s kind of weirdly perfect

Even more so, when Steve comes round to the other side of the table and literally hefts Bucky over his shoulder; carries him to the bedroom, and spends the rest of the afternoon tick-tacking the hell out of him

Lovingly.

Because that’s what this is.