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rioromanoffroses · 3 months ago

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Ovulation

G!P Natasha Romanoff x Fem Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, masturbating, oral sex (R and Natasha receiving), finger sucking, dry humping, fingering, unprotected sex (P in V), overstimulation

Summary: You're ovulating while on a mission, causing you to be uncomfortably aroused. Luckily, the agent with you is more than eager to help you out...

WC: 4.1k

The motel was just like any other – grey, dusty and lit only by dim off-white. You would only be here for a night and when you pressed your hand against the cold metal of the radiator, you were glad. You debated whether or not you ask the receptionist about it but keeping your head low was key when travelling on an undercover mission. The more questions you asked and the more times your face was seen and captured by CCTV, the greater the risks. You decided against it.

You inspected the bedroom, following safety procedures which included searching for signs of any electronic devices but luckily, there were none. The bed was a small double with beige, striped sheets that were thinner than you would’ve liked. The back wall was taken up entirely by a sturdy, wooden cupboard that matched the tawny-brown, bedside tables covered in dust. You switched on the lamp and ran your hand over the mattress, noting that you would need to wear thick layers of clothing to bed. You assumed the other bedroom was the same but didn’t bother checking. The other agent could do that.

You sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing your forehead with the palm of your hand. One of the things you hated most about being a woman and a spy was the problems it caused when it conflicted with your cycle. Missions on your period were uncomfortable, draining and painful. Ovulation week was also a mess; you had no way of dealing with the surge of hormones it triggered while on a mission. You made a mental note to take a cold shower after the other agent arrived.

You read over the intel for the upcoming mission while you waited for them, straining your ears for the door. It was a complicated mission; you had to infiltrate the base of a growing terrorist organisation and hack into their systems to gather as much information about them as you could. S.H.I.E.L.D. knew scarily little about the organisation so you were going in almost blind – anything could happen.

The plan was for two agents, including you, to blend in as one of the terrorists to get into the base. You were unaware of the identity of the agent you were paired with. You were curious to know if they were someone you’d worked with before or a complete stranger. You assumed the latter – you were still young and hadn’t been assigned to many difficult missions yet. You tightened your arms around yourself, shivering as the light outside the window was sucked from the sky, the moon blocked out by an array of dark, restless clouds.

“You look cold.” You jumped and leapt on your feet, spinning around to see a woman standing behind you. Her face was painted with a smirk and she looked at you with her hands on her hips, her jade eyes travelling up and down your body. You swallowed. How did you not hear her come in? S.H.I.E.L.D. weren’t exaggerating when they said she was the very best they had at espionage. You didn’t realise you were staring at her until she brought you out of your thoughts, “Cat got your tongue?”

“Uh, sorry,” you said, clearing your throat, “Yeah, I am. East Europe is always freezing at this time of year.” You could feel sweat trickling down your neck. Not only were you ovulating on a mission but you were stuck with an extremely attractive woman during it. You were so fucked.

“Mm, it is,” she said, stepping towards you and offering out her hand. You noticed the electrified branches of azure and emerald running down her arms up to her fingers, pushing up against the skin, your heart thundering against your ribcage. You quickly pulled yourself out of your trance. You were a spy for goodness sake, not the nervous wreck or helpless whore your elevated levels of estrogen were making you feel like. You shook her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, “I’m Agent Y/l/n.” You pulled your hand away from hers before she could pick up on your clammy palms but unbeknownst to you, she’d already felt them.

“I know,” she said, “I’m Agent Romanoff but to you, it’s Natasha.” You could feel your breath hitch in your throat. Natasha. You could already imagine how those three, pretty syllables would feel falling off your tongue.

You dismissed your dirty thoughts immediately, feeling ashamed of yourself. She was a stranger and your teammate; you seriously needed to pull yourself together. She nodded to the file in your hand, “I see you’re already prepared for the mission.”

“I was just double-checking all the details,” you said. The tight, black shirt and jeans she was wearing hugged her in all the right places, her sculpted arms in full view to you. She must take her training seriously, you thought, I wonder how often she goes to the gym.

“Good,” she said, dropping her bag on the floor, “I already know I’ll enjoy working with you.” You placed your hands behind your back so she couldn’t see your fidgeting fingers. Your gaze fell onto the bag and you frowned.

“Oh, were you planning on sleeping in here?” You said, “I’ll move to the other room then.” She held her arm in front of you as you stepped towards the door.

“There isn’t another room.” You felt your heart drop. You realised the other door must be to the bathroom. You couldn’t imagine how your situation could get any worse, “Are you unhappy with that arrangement?”

“No, not at all,” you lied, “I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.” You swallowed, hard. You started moving towards the door, “I’m going to take a shower,” you mumbled, not waiting for her answer. You fumbled with the handle, cursing under your breath and slammed the door shut behind you.

You didn’t waste any time taking off your clothes and turning on the shower, sighing as the cold droplets collided with your burning skin. The water only offered you a few moments of relief, however. The more you thought about the redhead and how close you’d be together that night, the more you fed the raging arousal between your legs. It became clear that there was only one way you were going to calm yourself down.

You covered your hand with your mouth as you touched yourself, your mind overwhelmed by images of Natasha. It didn’t take long for you to reach your climax and you were certain that the sound of the shower and your hand had muffled out all your moans. You cleaned yourself before stepping out, drying yourself with a towel and getting dressed, praying that your body would be satisfied for the night. When you returned to the bedroom, Natasha was on the bed facing you, resting a pillow on her lap.

“You’re even prettier in real life than you are in your pictures,” she said, the unexpected compliment drowning you in butterflies. You noticed that her cheeks were flushed a bright red and her breaths seemed more laboured than before.

“Really?” you said in disbelief. You had never seen yourself as unattractive but you didn’t think you were anything special either. You were nothing compared to the Goddess in front of you, that was for sure. She chuckled.

“You’re a humble one,” she mused, “How cute.” You couldn’t quite believe her words. Natasha thought you, of all people, were humble? You searched the room, looking for any kind of escape from the conversation and spotted a clock hung above the bed.

“It’s getting late,” you said, trying to hide your stutter, “I’ll sleep on the floor.” You knew it would be uncomfortable but anything was better than being next to Natasha. You’d slept in awkward places before so you’d just have to deal with it.

“No you won’t,” she said, shuffling to the other side of the bed and lifting the sheets, “There’s room for both of us, see?” The amount of room wasn’t the problem – it was the proxemics between you and the internal chaos your body was experiencing. How were you supposed to explain that to Natasha though? You noticed the moment your eyes fell on her that her autonomy wasn’t the same as yours so she wouldn’t understand your dilemma.

“Uh, okay,” you said, knowing you had no choice. You never sounded nervous or vulnerable, not even with your close family and friends. If embarrassment was a type of poison, you’d have collapsed in agony by now. You climbed into bed beside Natasha, turning your back to her. You were reminded of how small the bed was when you shifted slightly and felt her hand brush against the small of your back. You took a deep breath. You were in for a long night.

She switched off the bedside lamp and to your horror, you could hear her unbutton her jeans and discard them on the floor. It was almost as if she was doing it on purpose. You tensed your muscles, forcing yourself to stay as still as humanely possible so there was less chance of you accidentally making contact with each other again.

“That’s better,” she mumbled and you felt her leg against yours as she adjusted her position to make herself more comfortable. You didn’t know how long it took for you to fall asleep with her body so close to yours, her breath creating goosebumps along every part of your skin that it hit. Unfortunately, you found out the hard way that your head was the worst place to escape to you in your current state.

You woke up, gasping and blinded by the darkness around you. You pushed yourself up, feeling the slick on your thighs from the filthy dream you had just experienced. Natasha’s head had been buried between your thighs and you had been an absolute mess beneath her. You could honestly die from humiliation – how could your mind conjure up something so vile while you were sleeping next to her? As you were about to move off the bed and sprint into the bathroom, a light was switched on and you felt a hand tighten around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Natasha said, a dark rasp accompanying her words, “You are not going into the bathroom to fuck yourself again.” Your eyes widened and you felt a tide of heat rush to your cheeks. She’d heard you.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, “I shouldn’t have, it was really inappropriate of me…” She silenced you by straddling your hips, trapping you beneath her on the bed. Before you could react, you were distracted by the feeling of something hard against your stomach. You looked down to see Natasha in only her boxers, the bulge pressing against your abdomen straining in its confines. Your jaw dropped. It had never even occurred to you that there was a chance she’d want you too.

“I was going to let you make the first move,” she said, “But you took too long.” From how the other agents described you, she had been so sure your boldness and confidence would’ve caused you to spring onto her immediately. She was annoyed that she’d had to listen to you pleasure yourself in the shower without her but at the same time, Natasha loved that her presence had changed your demeanour so much.

You gulped and looked up into her eyes, seeing that her iris had shrunk into a thin line around her blown pupils. You drunk in the sight of her on top of you, placing your hands on top of her bare, supple thighs, her skin like velvet beneath you.

“Fuck,” you breathed. She tilted up your chin, running her thumb over your bottom lip, wanting a better view of you.

“Tsk tsk. Such a dirty mouth.” You knew you shouldn’t be letting her walk all over you but you were enjoying it more than you wanted to admit. She lifted herself off your body so she could move her other hand to the waistband of your trousers. She hooked a finger underneath the material, “Can I?” You nodded and she dug her nails into your chin, “I want to hear you say it.” You weren’t used to this power dynamic – you were always the more dominant one.

“Yes,” you said, “You can. Please.” She grinned at your obedience and slipped her hand into your pants, feeling you drip onto her fingertips. She groaned.

“Oh God, you’re so wet already,” she said, “I could stuff you with my cock right now if I wanted to.” She removed her hand from your underwear and brought it to your mouth, pushing her fingers past your lips. You sucked her digits hungrily, tasting yourself on your tongue. The sight only drove Natasha even crazier but she also felt a pang of envy, wishing it was her cock in your mouth instead. You felt so good around her fingers.

After pulling her digits out of your mouth, she lowered herself onto your body and she didn’t hesitate to connect her lips with yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. Her lips moulded against yours perfectly and you moved in sync with her, your kisses becoming more and more desperate. She could taste your sweetness as she kissed you and she forced herself to forget about breathing, not wanting to pull away for even a second. Her hands cupped your face and you reached up to tangle yours in her hair, her lips staining yours with garnet lust.

You pulled her even closer against your chest, your mind a buzz of her and her only. You let her tongue slide between your teeth when you felt it press against your bottom lip, making no effort to fight against it with your own. She swallowed your whines, her crotch grinding against your thigh. You had never hooked up with anyone before; you weren’t that kind of person. But you were willing to break all your rules for Natasha and give every part of you to her without hesitation.

Her mouth moved to your jawline, littering your face with kisses, her hands trailing down your arms. You shivered under her feather-light touch, gasping as her teeth sunk into your neck, intending to leave a bruise that everyone else would see. She tugged at the hem of your shirt.

“Take it off,” she said. She leaned back to give you space to pull it over your head and unhook your bra before she pounced on you like an animal. She traced her fingers over your collarbones before venturing further down to your chest, her fingers circling your nipples. You arched into her touch as she caressed your breasts, her movements sending a spark straight to your core. You reached down to cup her bulge, noticing the wet patch on her boxers but she slapped your hand away, “No touching,” she snapped.

“Please, Natasha,” you said, “I need you; it hurts.” She tutted.

“Patience,” she husked. She pulled away from you and started taking off her clothes, freeing her aching breasts before pushing down her boxers. Her erection sprang out from the material, the tip inflamed and ringed by an enraged red, pre-cum dribbling onto the sheets beneath her.

She led back onto the pillow, giving you a full view of her body and you took a moment to admire her. Everything about her was a masterpiece – her facial features, her muscles, her curves. Her crimson hair was a mess around her shoulders and the front pieces had fallen forward, framing her face, “I want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours.” You shook your head.

“No, Natasha,” you pleaded, “It’ll feel so much better in my pussy, I promise…” You fell silent as her eyes burnt into you. You reluctantly crawled over to her on all fours, hesitating before wrapping your mouth around the tip. You tried to irk her, moving as slow as possible but she grabbed a hold of your head and started pushing you down on her cock.

“Suck.” You gagged around her length as she started bucking her hips upwards so she was fucking your mouth but the sound only drove her more. It didn’t take long for you to start moving your head up and down her cock without any guidance, guttural moans escaping Natasha’s mouth from the warmth and skill of your tongue, “Fuck, that shut you up.”

Tears spilt down your cheeks as she hit the back of your throat over and over again, the vibrations of your whines sending even more waves of pleasure through her body. She lifted her legs onto your shoulders so you could grab onto her thighs, spurring you on even more, “I’m so close,” she breathed. Her thrusts were messy and out of rhythm by the time she came undone, spilling her cum into your mouth. You made sure to swallow it all.

She pulled her cock out of your mouth, a mixture of cum and drool coating her length, some of it dribbling down your chin, “You did so well. Such a good slut for me.” She took a moment to catch her breath, watching with eagerness as you pulled down your trousers and your panties that were positively ruined, throwing them on the floor. There were tears of white running down your legs and your clit was visibly swollen. She smirked wickedly, “You want me that bad, huh?”

“Please, I’ve been a good girl,” you whined. You tried to reach for her again but she caught hold of your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Lie down.” You went to lay on your back but she grabbed your shoulders, her nails indenting crescent-moons into your skin before pushing you down onto your stomach. You gasped as her hand pressed against your cunt, her fingers running through your sensitive folds. Her movements were slow and deliberate, intending to increase your need but not give in to it.

“More,” you begged as her thumb massaged your clit. The smell of sex was heavy in the air and your senses were intoxicated by the vanilla and brown sugar fragrance of her perfume. She gave your clit a sharp pinch in response to your pleas, causing you to inhale a sharp intake of breath.

“You’re insatiable,” she said, “You’re begging to be fucked by a woman you just met. Like a whore.” You started rubbing your crotch against her hand, your motions erratic and frantic.

“More, please,” you cried, your thoughts becoming incoherent as the need between your legs started to burn, “Please, Natasha.” She pushed two fingers inside of you, stretching out your entrance but making sure to avoid your g-spot.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you inside of me,” you groaned as she added a third digit to your cunt. Natasha started to play with her breasts using her free hand; she was burning for you just as badly as you were for and the sound of your begging only worsened her desire. It took all the strength in her body to hold herself back and not ruin you right there and then. She was so glad you couldn’t see her.

“I am inside of you.” You whined.

“I want your cock. I need it inside of me, please.” She grabbed hold of your hips, smirking. As much as she enjoyed seeing you so needy for her, her patience was wearing thin.

“Then you’ll take it all.” She suddenly rammed inside you without any warning, not being able to resist you for any longer and you cried out in shock. Your initial discomfort was drowned by explosive bliss as Natasha filled you to the brim, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. She was met with no resistance as she rutted into you despite her size which stretched you out deliciously. Your pussy was so much better than she could’ve ever imagined.

She flattened herself against your back, needing to feel more of you. She grunted against your ear as her hips slammed into your ass with each powerful stroke. You were dizzy with pleasure as her speed increased, your moans intensifying as she started to pound into your sweet spot. She was older and more experienced than anyone you had been with before which was evident in how she was making you feel. Your body was coursing with more pleasure than you thought was humanely possible.

The knot in your stomach was tightening fast and the sounds of your wet cunt were echoing through the room, “Oh fuck, you’re so tight,” Natasha said, not caring about her dignity anymore, too lost in the sensation of your warmth clenching around her cock, “Tell me how you feel baby.”

“I feel so, so good,” you said, “Please, don’t stop.” You looked back at her and she tilted her head so your lips could connect for a moment before her mouth moved to your shoulder. She sucked on the soft skin there, slowing down so she could sink deeper into your cunt. She could feel your legs trembling beneath her own as you pushed back in rhythm with each of her thrusts.

“How close are you?” Natasha didn’t want to admit it but she was already teetering on the edge, struggling to hold back from how well you were taking her. You could feel her movements become sloppy as more and more of your juices gushed from your entrance.

“So close,” you said, your walls clenching even harder around her cock. It only took a few more thrusts before you could feel gasoline flood your bloodstream, ready to be set on fire, “Natasha, f-fuck…” You didn’t even have to say it.

“Let go for me,” she commanded. You let the knot in your stomach unravel, screaming her name as all the nerves in your body were electrified, sparks of searing light shooting across your vision. No drug could replicate the state of euphoria you were both lost in as your walls were drowned by white, your cunt milking her cock dry until there wasn’t a single drop left to give. You had never experienced an orgasm so strong, so prolonged, so incredible. You expected Natasha to stop after fucking you through your high but instead, she picked up her pace again. You whimpered.

“Natasha, that’s enough…” She pulled out of you and flipped you onto your back before slipping straight back inside of you. Your eyes widened.

“What’s wrong?” she mocked, “You begged for my cock, slut. Isn’t this what you wanted?” She smirked when you didn’t give her an answer, already drowning in ecstasy again despite the building ache between your legs. You were losing your grip on reality as the new angle gave her access to more places inside of you and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you were overstimulated.

She didn’t take her eyes off you, wanting to see your reaction to everything she gave you. You were growing more sensitive by the second and you could feel her cock throbbing against your walls each time you squeezed her, drops of perspiration gleaming on every inch of your skin. You reached up to cup Natasha’s breasts, the extra layer of stimulation pushing her towards yet another climax in record time.

She started to rub your clit, hoping to speed up your release but it was becoming evident she’d have to release without you. You wrapped your legs around her waist, pulling her even closer and for a moment, she forgot your pleasure, getting too lost in her own. She tore her eyes away from you and threw her head back, panting like a dog.

“Cum inside me,” you said and at the sound of your words, she didn’t hesitate, letting her orgasm crash into her body with full force. She moaned your name between gasps as she was hit by waves of bliss that slowly decreased in intensity as the milliseconds passed, pulsing through her entire body. She finally pulled out of you and collapsed on the bed. You both gasped for breath, your thighs and the sheets beneath you stained with lust. You were glad you hadn’t climaxed this time – you didn’t think you’d have survived it.

“That was fucking incredible,” Natasha admitted, turning her head to face you. You nodded in agreement, too fucked out to form a sentence, your limbs still shaking from adrenaline.

That morning, Natasha woke you up with her cock between your legs, already hard and ready for another round. Her hands only left your body during the mission and three days later after its success, she didn’t hesitate to fuck you senseless until you passed out.

A/n - I have an idea for part two so let me know if that's something you'd like.

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut #marvel #mcu #marvel smut #mcu x you #mcu x reader #mcu x y/n #g!p natasha romanoff #g!p natasha x reader #g!p natasha

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aquaticmercy · 1 month ago

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Bloodstains and Daydreams

Summary :You and Bucky fantasize about starting a family while tending to each other’s wounds.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : Injury, Blood, non-sexual nudity. It’s a teeny bit angsty with lotsa fluff!!!

Requested by : myself lol

Word count : 1.8k

Note : I’ve had this idea for a while now. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

○support my ko-fi○

You opened the door to your and Bucky’s apartment with a loud creak. The lack of sound in your home was a little too quiet compared to the chaos you had both just escaped.

You were lucky that none of the neighbours saw you. Last time you saw Mrs. Jones from downstairs this bloody, she had called the ambulance. You had to assure her that you had everything you needed in your apartment.

You heard the soft click of the floorboards under you. Sometimes, you found that the little sounds in your home annoyed you, but you’d take it over the gunfire and shouting that still echoed in your ears. You and Bucky staggered inside, utterly exhausted, bloodied and bruised. The dim living room lamp was just enough to frame Bucky’s features. Just enough for you to recognise the love of your life limping in after you.

You dropped your gear by the door, wincing as a wheezing pain shot through your side. Your fingers came away slick with blood when you pressed against the wound, dripping down to the white carpet you just bought last week. Great, another one ruined.

You've lost count of how many rugs, welcome mats, and blankets you’ve needed to replace.

Bucky closed the door behind him, his movement sluggish despite having accelerated healing. He had it bad, since he threw himself on the line of impact to shield you from the debris of an explosion. He was lucky to walk away from that one with a only few cuts and bruises.

He slumped against the wall for a moment, eyes closed as he let out a long breath. You heard a thud from his head resting back on the wooden panel of the living room.

His tactical gear, like yours, was torn in places, stained with both his blood and the blood of others he had gotten in contact with. Despite a cut along his cheekbone and a bruise already forming on his jaw, his focus was still on making sure you were alright.

He eyed your side, the torn fabric gaping where a blade had sliced, thankfully not leaving a deep enough cut to cause permanent damage to your insides. It was deep enough to stay with you forever, though.

“You’re bleeding,” he said softly, his voice rough and dry. He needed water.

You slowly made your way to the kitchen, ignoring all the pain receptors in your body telling you to sit down.

You walked back and gave him the glass. He devoured it, but left some for you to finish.

“You too,” you nodded toward the gash on his forehead.

It had been a close call— too close. You both knew it.

You did what you always did after these particularly rough missions. You unzipped his jacket as he did yours, helping each other get undressed, leaving all the gear by the door.

Bucky was a specimen of a man, you couldn't deny that. But times like these, when you were naked and vulnerable after taking one too many hits, none of your thoughts were sexual. You only wanted him to love and to hold. For comfort.

You both made your way to the bathroom, turning on the shower to clean the injuries before you could tend to it. The two of you spent five minutes there, embracing wordlessly.

After rinsing both your wounds, Bucky picked up the medical kit, while you managed to fill up a clean bucket with water and grabbed a couple of washcloths.

Bucky huffed grumpily, staggering himself toward the couch, his metal arm hanging a little too stiffly at his side. You followed closeby.

“You first,” he murmured, sinking onto the edge of the fluffy couch with a groan. The cushions squeaked under his weight as he tapped at the seat beside him, motioning you closer.

You hesitated for a moment, looking down at the wound on you that was still bleeding. “We’re gonna ruin the couch,” you said with a sigh.

“Doll.” The word left his lips like he was begging for you to listen to yourself.

It was always like this with him— no matter how bad he had it, no matter how much worse he was than you, he always insisted you went first.

No one had ever cared for you the way Bucky did.

You finally relented, sitting beside him. You felt the familiar warmth of his presence extending to you. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the busy outside, people living their peaceful existence, a luxury neither of you can afford.

Bucky’s hands were gentle as he studied the scar along your bare ribs. His lips pressed into a tight line, worried.

“I should’ve gotten you out sooner,” he muttered, opening the medical box that had seen more use than you liked to admit.

He first used the washcloth and pressed it to your scar to stop the bleeding.

You winced when he began to clean the wound with antiseptic. “I’m fine, Buck,” you reassured him, though the sting of the cut made you bite your lip to the point where it was swollen. “It’s just a scratch.”

“You say that every time,” he said, shaking his head. His fingers were gentle, working with the skill of someone who had patched up countless wounds, both of himself and of others. “I’m scared that one of these days,” he stopped, hesitating before continuing, “You’re going to go where I can't follow.”

You met his eyes, knowing that if your wound had been just an inch deeper, you probably wouldn't be here. “I could say the same for you.”

He didn’t say anything and just resumed tending to you, though his touch was a little more careful, trying to make sure he didn’t cause you any more pain than necessary.

There was a deafening silence in the air from something that had been hanging over you both for a while now. It wasn’t just about the injuries or the blood on the couch. It was the exhaustion. The non-stop fighting. The feeling like no matter how many times you stopped a threat, another would emerge.

When Bucky finished bandaging your wound, he leaned back and wiped his hands on the already bloodstained towel. “All done.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. You sighed, eyeing at the dark red spots on the cushions beneath you.

He squeezed your hand in his human one. “Guess we’ll just have to get a new one.”

It seemed like an easy solution, but this was your fourth couch in six months. Definitely not sustainable.

Bucky smiled faintly as he continued his little bit. “Maybe we should just buy one of those ugly plastic ones that doesn’t stain.”

You chuckled. “I’m not living in a 90s sitcom with plastic-wrapped furniture.”

As you reached for the first aid kit, you motioned for him to sit still. “Your turn.”

Bucky sat back, his head tilting against the back of the couch. His eyes shut as you worked on the gash on his forehead, one just above his eyebrow. The bleeding has stopped, but it still needed to be cleaned a little more thoroughly.

“You should’ve ducked,” you teased gently, trying to bring a little laughter to the room.

“Yeah, well, no one warned me of a flying brick,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

“You are such a hero,” you said, dabbing at the wound with a damp cloth. “Trying to keep everyone safe.”

“Not everyone,” Bucky murmured, his voice a little more serious. His steely eyes fluttered open to meet yours. You both knew what he was talking about. There were too many people you couldn’t save. Too many you couldn’t protect.

Of course, he tried. But if he could save just one person, it would have been you.

You sat back, letting your hands fall into your lap helplessly. Exhaustion crept into your bones, finally catching up with you. “Do you ever think about stopping?”

Bucky’s gaze softened.

“The missions. The fighting.” You swallowed, your throat suddenly tight. “It feels like it never ends, Buck. I’m tired.”

He sat up a little straighter, the pain in his body forgotten for a moment. His human hand found yours, his thumb rubbing your palm in slow circles. “I think about it all the time,” he admitted quietly. “Every time we go out there.”

This was the first time either of you ever spoke about this. There were hints of it from time to time, but it was never really mulled over the way it was now. Tired and afraid, you were both as vulnerable as you could be to each other, all the skeletons in your closet aired out.

“I want to believe,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, “that one day the world will be good enough for us to stop.”

“We’ll get there,” he said. “Maybe not tomorrow, or soon. But one day. No more missions. No more blood on the couch.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “If we survive long enough to even replace it.”

“We will,” he promised, his voice firm despite the tiredness in his eyes. “And when we do, we’ll get out of this life. We’ll find somewhere quiet. Somewhere far away from all this. Maybe… start a family.”

Your throat tightened before you could speak. You both have been through so much, you both have seen the worst of the world. You both, especially Bucky, had survived horrors that most people couldn’t even begin to comprehend. But here you were, sitting together on a bloodstained couch in your apartment, fantasising about something so fragile, so precious. Something that would require so much love and care and time to build.

The idea of starting a family together seemed so far removed from the violence that dictated your lives. But both of you had a spark that no amount of bloodshed could extinguish.

“I want that too,” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “One day.”

“Do you know what I want to name our daughter?” Bucky asked as you taped up his would.

Your heart swelled with insurmountable adoration. “Mmhm?” you willed him to go on.

Bucky said your name, and it felt so comforting coming from his lips. “I want her to be named after you,” he continued.

Your heart felt like it could explode. “Only if we can name our baby boy James.”

Bucky chuckled, pulling you closer into a loving embrace, feeling his bare skin on yours. “Deal,” he agreed, pressing his lips to yours gently, as if he was afraid to hurt you.

His hands found yours, intertwining your fingers together as if you were one unit.

The city outside grumbled with life, but in the quiet of your apartment, there was peace. A fragile peace, but peace nonetheless.

One day, you told yourself. One day, we would both be free.

-end

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