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lanabuckybarnes · 3 days

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Winter’s Girl

18+ Minors DNI

(I do not own any photos, credits to original owners)

Could you imagine being a scientist on the winter soldier program, your task is to make sure he’s at 100% before every mission. This time though, when you enter his holding cell he’s nowhere to be found.

Note: I HIT 300 FOLLOWERS; thank you guys so much I love you all xxxx

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Warnings: Translated Russian because I’m stupid and know one language, Jealous Soldat, use of the word Puppy/Pup as a petname, a lil Biting, Hair pulling, Spanking, Spitting, The Winter Soldier (he’s a warning), Creampie, He’s a little sweet at the end but there isn’t much aftercare— as always if I’ve missed anymore let me know!

Word Count: 1.2k (of porn with no plot)

You gaze flicks around the room, a little panic stricken but who wouldn’t be when a 6ft something assassin had seemingly disappeared from his cell.

The fear bubbling in your belly only triples when you face the long broken mirror that sat just above the sink, behind you his cerulean gaze was undeniable. His hands reach out, the cool metal one wrapping itself around the bottom of your face, muffling any protests, while the other gripped your hip with bruising fingers and pushed you forward till your pubis and upper thighs knocked against the sink.

Your hands fall on instinct to the cold metal as your fingers grip at the surface, when you flick your gaze up to the mirror you can see that what swims in his own orbs isn’t anger or the usual killer instinct, no— the Winter soldier looks at you with lust.

“красотка” (pretty) He whispers hoarsely against your neck, hot pants of air from his mouth coating your throat like paint. His teeth nip right at your pulse point before his warm tongue smooths over the mark.

When you jerk, his grip tightens, “don’t move” He stares at you pointedly through the mirror before both his hands retreat from your frame.

You vaguely register the soft sound of fabric hitting the cold floor before he swipes your own clothes from your body, the harsh air was harsh; it almost felt like dipping your body into a bath filled with ice.

He groans, loud and throaty as his eyes bore into your ass and panties. Despite the cool atmosphere of the cell you feel everywhere burning with a primal want. You wanted this, you had since the first time you worked with the Soldier. He smelled the way you slicked up at the sight of him in nothing but his briefs, blood dripping from his nose, a musky scent radiating from him that had you desperately soaked. He wanted this too, he needed the release and the best kind of toy was one that was willing.

You felt his fat tip press against your hole, pushing in and out softly over the thin lace before it slipped to stimulate your hard little nub. The strong grip on your hip was back, anchoring your feet in their exact spot.

“You need this?” He kissed sloppily up your spine, It sounded more like a statement than a question but you nodded all the same.

He worked quick after your confirmation. Your panties were pulled to the floor by their soaked gusset and two of his chubby metal fingers speared you, pulling a delightful sounded moan that the Soldier was desperate to hear more of.

They worked methodically, pushing in and curling out, your legs shook at every time the cool pads bumped over each pleasure filled rib.

Once he deemed you ready enough, his fingers slipped from your tight hole to jerk at his thick length, coating himself in your essence. He so desperately wanted to taste you but his cock was crying out for attention, he’d get his fill next time.

“F-fuck” you moaned loudly as he pushed in, all semblance of decency thrown out the window at the feeling of his fat cock stretching you, there was a burn from ill prep but with the size of him you weren’t sure there would be a way to prep. You were thankful that he let up for just a bit so your insides could mould to accommodate him.

When he started thrusting his pace was brutal, his meaty thighs slapping against your own, the sound mixing with the squelching push and pull of his cock along your fluttering folds. You’d thank his super soldier serum later for his constant pounding pace but right now you could think of nothing but him.

“Bucky!” you squealed as his cool digits flicked meticulously across your sensitive clit, your fingernails scraped mindlessly at the shiny plates of his forearm. He growled possessively at the slip of the name, his right hand fisting clumps of your hair to angle your head up to watch you both in the mirror.

“Does Bucky fuck you like this? Mm?” Jealousy dripped from his words as his metal hand smacked your rear hard before gripping the reddened flesh to cool the area.

You couldn’t think, you watched as your thighs jumped at each pound of his hips, the way your mouth had sat slack ever since he shoved his length into you, drool poured from your lips but you didn’t care— you couldn’t care— not with how cock drunk you were.

He smacked your ass again, this time when he gripped the flesh he pulled your cheek to the side, parting your ass before launching a fat glob of spit that ran from your tight little asshole to the spot where you two joined.

“I asked you a fucking question!” He pushed forward, teeth finding the lobe of your ear and biting down, the action pulling a squeaked moan from your swollen mouth.

“No-no he can’t, he can’t… please Soldier I’m so close” You wailed, one of your own hands travelling down to play with your neglected clit. The soft touch of your fingers had you jerking back to meet him.

“Mmm, Отчаянный щенок (desperate puppy)… you cum when I say you can” he was panting now, hips hammering into you at a slightly sloppier pace; It wouldn’t be long until he found his own release as well.

He moaned loudly, he had no control over his own body now, driven only by decades of primal unsatisfied lust. He thrust harder if it were possible, his wild blue eyes glaring at your fucked out face through the cracks in the mirror.

“You ready pup?” he asked between loud groans.

“Mmm, so ready солдат (soldier)” you slurred, your head hung loosely between your shoulders when his hand slipped down your spine, you’d lost all energy to hold it up ages ago— you’d been relying solely on the tight grip he had on your hair.

“Augh, shit” he growled almost animalistic through clenched teeth, his damp forehead settling on the silky skin stretched over your shoulder blades. He thrust deeply one last time.

“Cum angel…cum…cum on me” the words fell from his mouth along with slurs of broken Russian as he painted your walls white, his cock twitched against your vice grip as you silently screamed at your own release.

You hadn’t the faintest clue how long you two basked in the after glow of whatever you had just done, your mind only coming back to you when you felt his softening length pull from your aching heat. The feeling of your mixed juices slipping from your hole had you almost coming for a second time, especially when you felt his cold fingers drag up the mess it made in your thigh before he pushed it back into your core.

His arms lifted you up with him as he backed up until he sat on a rickety cot in the corner of the room. You had no idea if it would hold both your weights but it was the last thought to cross your mind when his thick arms wrapped around your waist, his flesh fingers rubbing soothing circles over your hip bone. He kissed you, tenderly, before flopping his head onto the almost flat pillow.

You were almost asleep when you heard the deep rumble of his voice behind you. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

I have an insatiable appetite for jealous Bucky.

I also desperately needed to write something for the world’s favourite Soldat because I would not sleep peacefully tonight thinking of this and not sharing.

Hope you enjoyed x

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manestjerne · 2 days

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I'll do that again for you

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Summary: Bucky pushes you away again and you let him this time.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: angst, swearing, comfort, a little fluff, doubts, angry behavior, mentions of physical abuse and injuries, crying. Let me know if I forgot something.

A/N: I'm not sure about this one, but it's been on my mind for so long I had to finally sit down and write it all down. Hope you enjoy it guys <3

I walked into Bucky’s apartment and tossed my keys on the dining table before opening the fridge and getting myself a bottle of water. I looked around slowly and walked to the pile of bedsheets on the floor. I picked them up before sitting down on the couch. The quiet sound of shower in the other room seemed to wash all my worries away, but I knew they will come back the moment I see him. His deep blue, tired eyes full of regret and and guilt, his usually steady hands shaking whenever we were alone. All the things no one else besides me was allowed to see. Things that only I could perceive in a conference room full of people. Things I couldn’t do anything about. He was more devastated than ever when Steve started talking about leaving him. Leaving us, but Bucky couldn’t wrap his head around that, believing I have already found my peace in other people. As compassionate as he was, he never saw how lonely I was since I was trying to get him his life back. But I never blamed him.

The peaceful sound of water flowing got quiet unexpectedly, making me snap back to reality. I heard quiet footsteps getting closer and my heart started pounding in my chest.

„Hey sweets, you’re here early.”

He said calmly, sitting on the couch next to me. I only replied with a smile, realizing he looks worse than usually. He wasn’t surprised I was here, I always were on friday mornings. We talked about his last therapy session before going to the compound together, it was our routine. The thing that kept us both on tracks, helping to get a steady rhythm in our messed up lives, something to stick with for once. But today my thoughts were focused on something else, I didn’t care about the therapy, knowing he might finally found something better to help him get his life together.

„How was your date yesterday?”

„It was awful and I don’t want to talk about it”

His reply was dry and harsh. He didn’t to that often while talking to me. He had a soft spot there, always treating me gently and respectful, but I knew this moment would come, sooner or later. I knew the perfect bubble of our strange relationship would finally burst, because he couldn’t handle it. I knew it would change for him, but never for me, I felt the same way since I met him, when he squeezed my throat so hard that I passed out and had to look at the bruises covering my body for the next two weeks whenever I passed a mirror. But even as a Winter Soldier, his eyes were the same, that’s why I chose to help Steve get him back. That’s why I had the worst possible fight with Tony, when he told me I can’t just pick up assassins from the streets and adopt them like stray cats. He never said that about Wanda, he never called Nat an assassin, but he never hesitated when it came to Bucky. Thinking about that sent shivers down my spine, remembering how much I had to give up to bring things back to normal, to help them understand that the Winter Soldier is not the person standing in front of them.

„So I chose a wrong person again?”

I asked with a weak smile. It wasn’t the first date he didn’t enjoy, but he never blamed me for that.

„You chose the wrong thing for me, I don’t get why do you want me to find a fucking love of my life by setting me up on hookups I don’t want to attend.”

His voice started to sound unsettling, I shifted in my seat and straightened my back, looking at him carefully. He tried to do that earlier, to push me away by scaring me, but I never let him. I knew he would never hurt me, too focused on protecting me at all costs, like his life depended on it.

„Don’t be such a dick and stop blaming me for your poor love life, I’m just trying to help you get back to reality.”

I was surprised by my own words, I never spoke to him that way, no matter how he treated me. I felt a wave of frustration flushing through my veins, making me feel like my blood is boiling. I looked at his hands, his metal fingers clenching in a fist, the flesh hand rubbing on the soft fabric of his jeans, but I knew how much they were trembling at this moment and how much he was fighting himself not to break the character he was trying to play.

„I never asked for it.”

His jaw clenched and I felt a sting in my chest at his words. No matter how grateful he was for me being there, he would never admit it, he would never say how much he needed and appreciated all I ever did for him.

„Do you want me to leave?”

I decided to make it easier for him, knowing he would struggle with saying it out loud. He never wanted me to leave his side, but he thought it was the right thing, and I couldn’t fight it anymore.

„I don’t want you to play a babysitter anymore, seeing one shrink at a time is enough.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes, almost making me believe his words and for the first time I felt some kind of doubt. My safe place by his side was slowly fading away as he kept looking at me with something what felt like blame in his eyes. I shrinked into my seat trying to find any words, but every time I opened my mouth the room was filled with nothing but silence.

„Do you want me to leave?”

I repeated myself quietly, not able to find any other words suitable for what I was feeling at the moment.

„Are you even fucking listening?”

He wasn’t angry, but frustrated. I didn’t flinch at his voice, but I could feel the tears filling up my eyes slowly. I got up and picked my keys up from the table. After a few short breaths I found the courage to face him again.

„That’s what I do all the time, James. I listen. I wish you could do that for once.”

With my last word I turned away and walked to the door. He never tried to stop me, he didn’t say anything before I left. I held my tears back for as long as I could, letting go at the moment I sat in my car. I doubted all I did for him at the moment, knowing that one of us wasn’t ready for what we were doing, but I couldn’t realize who was the problem.

-----

„It’s been a week since you stopped attending the meetings. If Tony was mad earlier, you don’t want to know what Steve said today.”

Nat entered my room without knocking as always. She brought me a piece of Wanda’s cake, but I pushed the plate away, still refusing to eat whenever I wasn’t starving.

„I really just don’t want to see him, I’m not ready for that.”

She sat on the bed next to me, looking at me closely and sinking every word I said. It was the first time I said anything about what happened that day and she was willing to listen carefully to every word I say, analyzing every sigh and deep breath between them. I felt bad about treating her this way, she deserved to know everything, but I was scared of what I was going to say, I tried not to think about it, knowing my pain is now fully replaced with anger and frustration.

„I did everything I could, all this months I tried to help him and he acts like a fucking brat, trying to push me away. I’m so done with him, I’m not going back and begging him to let me do that all again. If he’s so devoted to Steve let’s just stick with that and let him live his pathetic little life without my interruptions.”

I said it all in one breath trying not to sound paranoid, but Nat only nodded slowly and laid on her back, staring at the perfectly white ceiling.

„I respect your every decision, but he’s only doing that to help you, and you know that. It’s you, who convinced me he means no harm and just can’t deal with his own mind, that’s why he’s trying to push you away. But it’s okay you’re tired with that, you don’t deserve it.”

I rolled on my stomach laying next to her and picked up the plate she put on the bed earlier. I stared at all the layers of my favorite toppings and saw how uneven it was looking, realizing Natasha helped Wanda with cooking this time. I smiled to myself remembering how much she hates doing that.

"Just wait for him to come back, he'll do it eventually."

„Thanks Nat, I’m glad you’re here.”

I said before dipping my fork in the cake.

---

Everyone got quiet when I entered the shared kitchen, it was the first time I was in the same room with Bucky since I left his apartment in tears. But I didn’t mind his presence, I knew he’s not going to bring it up when there were so many people around and I wasn’t planning on giving him a chance to speak to me in private. I walked up to the counter and poured myself a glass of water before heading to the coffee machine. I waited for my drink to brew when I turned away and rested my elbows on the counter behind me, almost tasting the tensed atmosphere I brought into the room.

„Are you planning on attending any meetings this week or should I just send you a fax with our arrangements?”

Tony asked calmly. He was mad at me, but acting as a human as possible he wasn’t planning on letting me know.

„Yeah, I’ll be there today.”

I shrugged my shoulders when Steve rolled his eyes, but I wasn’t looking at him. Bucky’s eyes were glued to the countertop in front of him, filled with guilt. He looked pathetic and I blamed myself for enjoying the view. After hearing a quiet beep my eyes left him to pick up the coffee.

„See you at 6.”

I said and started walking away lazily with mug in one hand and a glass of water in another. I was slowly getting used to this, feeling more comfortable leaving my room, not caring about the stares.

„You two should just fuck and let us get back to normal.”

I froze at Tony’s words and turned back to face him unconsciously.

„Come on, we can all see how you’re looking at each other, let’s finally get over this awkward phase.”

„Shut up.”

Bucky replied him firmly at his next words, but Tony just shrugged his shoulders and went back to eating his cereal. I tightened my grip on the glass in my hand and looked him in the eyes, shaking my head slowly. Little did he know, we did that once, a few weeks back and it never helped, it never changed our relationship. I couldn’t find proper words to respond so I just walked away and stopped after passing the first corner, when no one could see me. I let my head fall back and took a few deep breaths, feeling the almost healed wound open up again. I started walking away when I heard footsteps approaching me, but he was faster and caught up with me after only a few seconds. He blocked my way with his body, towering over me before I could reach the elevator and hide in my room.

„He shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.”

Bucky was trying to look me in the eyes but I successfully avoided it.

„Don’t act like you regret anything.”

I huffed and tried to pass him, but it was impossible. He raised his hand to tuck the strand of hair behind my ear but I flinched at his movement. He was visibly hurt by that, but not surprised, taking a step back his gaze never left me.

„Can we just talk like adult people do?”

„You’re not so good at that.”

I replied coldly, matching his earlier energy, trying to push him away as he did so many times.

„I am, you taught me that.”

„No, that’s a job for a shrink, so I’m not doing that again.”

„I know how you fee-„

„No, you fucking don’t!”

I replied throwing a glass at him, my words louder than necessary. He didn’t flinch, knowing I wasn’t actually aiming at him. The glass flew next to his face and shattered at the wall behind him.

„Fuck.”

I mumbled and dropped on my knees to pick up the glass from the floor. He kneeled besides me and pulled me away gently, grabbing the shattered pieces with his metal hand.

„You’ll hurt yourself.”

He said gently and I almost fell in his arms after these words, knowing how much I miss him and how much I want to be allowed to do that again.

„Like you care.”

I huffed in response and entered the elevator leaving him alone, kneeling in the puddle wetting his jeans, letting my frustration take over.

-----

I heard a soft knocking on my door. I raised myself on my elbows before realizing Nat and Wanda never knock, no matter what time they decide to come see me, so I rolled over with my back facing the door now. I didn’t want to talk to anybody else at the moment.

„I know you’re not sleeping, I can hear your uneven breath.”

I heard the words clearly, even tho his whisper was muffled by the door separating us. I didn’t respond, knowing he’ll come in eventually. I heard a resigned sigh before the door opened. His quiet footsteps echoing in my head when he circled the room and kneeled besides my bed to face me.

„I’m sorry for being such a dick.”

He said confidently waiting for my answer, but also knowing I’m not going to speak. He gave me a few seconds to make sure I don’t have anything to say before he spoke up again.

„I know how you feel, I can see how much you have to give up in order to help me. I know how alone you are, even with so many people supporting you. I know you did it all to make me feel better and I appreciate it more than anything, I need your help just as much as you think and more.”

I was a little confused at his words, actually admitting all the things he couldn’t say earlier.

„Then why are you like that?”

I felt the tears filling up my eyes again, but I didn’t care, letting them fall on my cheeks as our murmurs were filling up the quiet room.

„Because I can’t stand watching you do this. You don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve you, but I can’t function without you. I need you back and I’ll do everything for you to forgive me again.”

His hand slowly landed on my cheek, wiping the tears away as he looked me in the eyes.

„See, that’s the problem. Again. How many times will you push me away before finally opening up and letting me really help you?”

My voice wasn’t shaking as much, feeling his touch calmed me down as always, no matter how I wanted to resist the feeling.

„I won’t do that ever again, I won’t hurt you. I just need you back, as clingy as always, being a pain in my ass every Friday morning, asking about my therapy. Making me watch all the stupid romantic movies, cuddling on the couch when I’m trying to move away. Dragging me back to bed when I lay on the floor and making me talk about my nightmares before we fall asleep again.”

"Who would think that Bucky Barns could ever kneel before a woman."

"And I'll do it again for you."

I couldn’t help but giggled at his words, knowing how much I miss that feeling too, no matter he was trying to act like he hates it, he loved it more than I did. He smiled softly at my reaction, and I knew it was sincere. He slowly stood up and took the covers off me. Picking me up gently he moved me to make space for himself and laid next to me, resting my head on his chest before pulling the covers over us once more.

„Just come back for the last time and I promise I won’t act like a brat and start treating you as you deserve. I would do anything for you and I can’t run from it anymore. I’m ready to give you everything I can and finally take care of you, like you did this whole time.”

He brushed his fingers through my hair and I nodded slowly, knowing he finally understood that pushing me away is not an option. I took a deep breath smelling his cologne and my eyelids got heavy as my body started to relax. I closed my eyes sinking in the feeling of our bodies being so close again, our legs tangled under the duvet, his heart beating right where my head was resting.

„Just close your eyes now, and we’ll start everything again tomorrow, okay?”

He asked quietly, his flesh hand not leaving my hair and the metal once still drawing circles on my back.

„Okay.”

I said before falling asleep, knowing I won’t wake up in the middle of the night as I did every time for the past week.

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samodivaa · 21 hours

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frenzy of lust and sin 1〗

Pairing: Instructor!Bucky x Recruit!Reader

Summary: During your training to become an agent, you've earned the moniker "Sergeant's girl" around the base—that doesn't give him the right to be possessive or jealous, but what gives you the right to be a brat? Warnings: sexual tension, age gap, sparring Words: 3.4k

Bucky knows that the body is not a thing of wild magic, but a collection of chemicals, tissues, and nerve impulses. Thoughts are no more than electrical surges in the brain. Sexual arousal is no more than a flow of chemicals to certain nerve endings. Sadness no more than a bit of acid transfixed in the cerebellum. In short, the body is a machine, subject to the same laws of electricity and mechanics as an electron or clock. As such, the body must be addressed in the language of physics. And if the body speaks, it is the speaking only of so many levers and forces. The body is a thing to be ordered, not obeyed. But the feeling is not leaving, he can’t control it. Jealousy. He is witnessing himself become daily more notable for savage sullenness and ferocity. But in the end, it’s an instinctive feeling. Your presence has flattered him from the first time you met, you are full of ambition which leads Bucky to adopt a double character without exactly intending to deceive anyone.

He keeps the acquaintance and has no temptation to show his rough side in your company, and has the sense to be ashamed of being rude towards such a young lady. You are the only recruit who gets this side of him, but it is a secret in his heart, he is guilty of such a secret, because he has to forcefully hold it. He keeps his hold on his affections towards you unalterably, not showing what he is truly feeling. With all his superiority as your hand to hand combat instructor, he finds it difficult to keep it professional as more time passes. As he falls more for you. ============================== The moment you enter the room, he discerns your soft-featured face, pensive and amiable in expression, eyes which are large and serious, your figure almost too graceful. It forms a sweet picture―and your aura. It's…intoxicating. It's shining, it always shines.

“Good morning, Bucky” you have a sweet, low manner of speaking as you walk towards where he is sitting. “Good morning” his voice sounds ill-natured, politeness that would only be laughed at, restraining an unruly nature, wary of the secret he knows about you. He is trying to not be overcome by emotion. Emotion is the art of breaking hearts, minds, and tongues―but it is too much, even for Bucky.

You reflect for an instant, with knitted brows “Are you okay?” “Of course I am, why do you ask?” he whispers crossly.

A surprised laugh almost breaks free from your lips, because his naturally reserved disposition is exaggerated into an almost idiotic excess of moroseness today and you wonder why that is. Bucky slightly widening his eyes, parts of his lips, but there is absence of arrogance as his features become unreadable again. He rises up from the bench, but you have no time to express your worry further as you gaze at him with a troubled countenance, because it might be something deeper. ==============================

It is all because of three days ago.

As he carries his basket to the laundry room, he spots a look for a washing machine with a finished cycle. He opens the door and unloads the freshly washed clothes, placing them into the basket in front of the machine―but these clothes are familiar. Leggings, he knows them by heart. Curiosity is gluttony. It is a great temptation to look through all of them, piece by piece. And although his demeanor is calm, his eyes betray a maelstrom of emotions—his self-control is shattering. The impulse lurks. His gaze moves downwards. To his crotch. Jesus. He is hard. And sometimes, to regain sanity, he has to acknowledge and embrace the madness. Bucky wavers for a moment, and then, irresistibly impelled by the naughty spirit within him, sits on the floor and finds a red dress underneath the leggings―curiosity sparking in his eyes as his lids to twinkle, because he has never imagine you wearing such feminine clothing. Until now. He wants to see the curve of your back, the dress clinging to your chest and waist, flaring over your hips—and certainly wants to look at your tits in it.

“Fuck” His throat gurgles slightly, looking at the cloth through his lashes like the starved man he is. It is almost impossible to express himself out loud, satisfaction speaks louder than words. He is overwhelmed by emotions, leaving him both speechless and breathless, but even then it is important to identify the correct emotion—lust, a longing that goes on a loop. He neglects his throbbing cock, but his attention remains the dress as he falls victim to countless daydreams.

There is scarcely time to experience a thrill of his arousal before he sees something else—male boxers. He stands stunned. Paralyzed. Breathless. But there is no time for inaction. His mind floods as he tries to make sense of what he is seeing.

—Men are punished by their sins, not for them.

Seeing the boxers, he speaks of lust in the past tense. The scene that plays in front of him, is perfectly adapted to a temporal phenomenon: distinct, abrupt, framed—illusions are bound to be shattered, reality finally sets in. An indescribable look flits across his face, because that sparks his anger. It is so wrong to feel like this, yet he is firmly persuaded that a great deal of his consciousness, in fact, is a disease, the more deeply it sinks into that mire and the more ready he is to sink in it altogether—Jealousy. He hates those insoluble problems and contradictions of human nature, and that he is capable of conquering his fragile inner center—only silence remains. To take back his power in any given situation, he needs to focus on the things he can control. The thoughts he chooses to think is usually the best place to begin, but by a natural impulse his mind starts to wonder—about this man kissing you, touching you, fucking you.

==============================

That’s how his unusual behavior is fueled, expressed, plainer than words could do, the intense anguish at having made himself the instrument of opposing his own jealousy. You enter the room and he is already waiting for you and as you approach the bench where he is sitting, he is supposing you are going to say something, looking up. The expression of his face seems disturbed and anxious as three days ago, lips are half asunder, as if he wants to speak, and draws a breath, but it escapes with a sigh instead of a normal sentence.

“You know, relationships are not allowed here” “What are you talking about?” you pursue, kneeling down by him and lifting your winsome eyes to his face with that sort of look which turns off bad temper, even when it is right in his own world to indulge it. “It is part of the rules, you sighed it” he goes on, less sulkily. “Yeah and I am not in a relationship” you respond, peevishly rising to your feet. “You just slept with some random guy?” “It is not against the rules” you exclaim in an irritated tone, chafing your hands together and frowning.

“So how was the sex?” he asks too casually, his countenance growing graver. Bucky has an unusual gloom in his face, that makes you dread something from which you might shape a prophecy, and foresee a fearful catastrophe. Will he expel you from the training program?

“What do you mean?” you ask, with an accent of indignation. “How was it” he asks, emphasizing each syllable “When he fucked you?” —Jealous makes tongue unconscious

You avoid aggravating his fiery temper by staying silent, not knowing what attendees his anger and the curiosity of your personal life. His behavior today provokes you exceedingly, but you lay the blame on his latest mission which was a disaster. He doesn’t have power to conceal his emotions anymore, it sets his whole complexion in a blaze. Bucky rises from the bench, scoops up his water bottle, takes a long gulp from it and impatiently bades you to go to the training mats, terminating the conversation with a sequel of horrid imprecations in his mind. You know that It is as much a part of him as his limbs, this need to make sure that you are safe, to protect you. But this is the first time that he hasn't been so kind to you. And you remember a definition of chivalry you’d heard once: a man protecting a woman against every man but himself. Through the madness of his words, a part of his soul is revealed—a part of him that has to do with the past. Even if people around him try to forget it, the past remembers him. That void in his chest fills with anger sometimes and it is scary to witness it.

You don’t want to spar with him, but you won’t back down either—back and forth you go, shifting your feet and moving across the mat like some wild, ferocious tango. It is exhilarating to be moving like this with you, so close Bucky can see your eyebrows pinched together in concentration, little drops of sweat as they run down your face. Then it happens. You couldn’t get your arms up in time and Bucky’s next kick hit you squarely in the side. The attempt to conceal the pain doesn’t work as you feel all the strength go out of you as your back hits the ground hard. In a second he gets on top, which makes you wriggle and squirm, trying to throw him off. He grins down at you, enjoying his momentary superiority and the feeling of your smaller body underneath his. You don’t let the mental block or panic control you, ideas flow so rapidly that you have not time to decide what to do—you scowl adorably and arch up against him in a way that sends electricity through him—and that unbalances him enough for you to flip him over and straddle him. —He is a mournful wreck ruined by his biggest weakness, you. You are on top now, pinning him, grinning down with sparkling eyes. He is exasperated, because he doesn’t know what this look means. He put it somewhere between indifference and pride. Your eyes are so intense he wants to look away—or never look away, he can’t decide, but he keeps his gaze fixed on you as if you fear that you would vanish if he is to remove it. To his shock, the heavy breathing, the rush of adrenaline and endorphins, the intense stare, the rivulets of sweat, arouses him even more.

“It was nice” you declare, emphatically, speaking sincerely “The sex was nice” you add in a tone particularly calculated to provoke him.

You seem to allow yourself such wide latitude with both your actions and words today, it really leaves him speechless and you laugh at his reaction as if you are inclined to make it no laughing matter to Bucky. When your eyes meet his gaze as you are staring at each other, time stops. Those eyes are piercing yours, and you can swear at this moment you sense something more. It surprises you that he doesn’t say anything in return. You are not used to seeing Bucky like that—without the attitude, without the facade. He tries to conceal his reaction from you, but his face grows cloudy at your reply, his heart grows pale with pure annoyance: a feeling that reaches its climax when you silently rise and leave the room as Bucky ponderes your reply painfully. He would not have wanted to hear of staying a second longer anyways. ============================== It is a continual nightmare. He needs several days off from all training sessions to meditate on his thoughts in solitude. He persuades his conscience that in a way it is not his fault as possessiveness is a problem, rooted in his ill-bred past―he suffers greatly, because of the brainwashing, torture, his mind struggles between disorder and order, trying to find a balance between the two extremes.

But he can't keep on running, he needs to face one of his biggest problems―for all his time that he has spent with you, he couldn't avert that excess of emotion: mingled possessiveness and jealousy has overcome him completely lately. The nearer he gets to the facility the more agitated he becomes and on catching sight of it he trembles in every limb. You are young, beautiful and there is something contagious when you act like a brat, it takes root in him and his desire grows along with him―your presence is a moral poison that contaminates his whole mind. —There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable. You are forbidden. Young. His best trainee.

============================== You are already sitting on the bench and turn around when the door opens. Eye contact. How can he mitigate his adoration for you when he can't concentrate half the time he is around you?

“Good morning, Bucky”

You say with feigned playfulness and he notices a mischievous smile on your lips. As if you are on hostile terms with him, but still somehow friendly. And what amuses you is painful to him beyond expression―he doesn’t say anything in return, but sits next to you, and looks thoroughly indifferent as he takes the water bottle out of his backpack. It is normal thought, you are alarmed at his recent indiscretion, and the disclosure he had made of his behavior in a transient fit of anger. Bucky is sick with conflict, possessive emotions fester in him while this sludge, guilt, eats away at his insides and he is acutely conscious of the swift passage of time. ―He needs to say something. Finish the session and go home. It is that simple.

And he stares hard at you, watching you take a long drink from your bottle. Then he follows the flick of your tongue over your bottom lip. His heart stumbles a beat. What the actual fuck. Was that on purpose―he has come here to train you and once again, he is left speechless. Then. You lean in, your scent filling his nostrils. He is shocked to feel his throat tighten with a primal hunger, just to hear: “Don’t you like me?”

You laugh softly, utterly feminine sound that galvanizes all of his senses. You lean closer, allowing Bucky to savor the sweet, sinful energy which shimmers from you―some primitive male instinct warns him of your innocence―like a bloom on a vine, fragrant and dainty. He scowles―don’t pinch it off. His heart knows no peace, because everything is wrong with having feelings for you. *What is she playing at? Is she trying to provoke me? It's working*

“It's not that I don’t like you, it's only that in your presence I don’t like myself” he speaks without any anger in his voice, but with much sorrowful despondency.

Now, you are the one left speechless, but manage to preserve your external composure, in spite of his ghastly countenance and strange confession. You find childish diversion in the idea of pulling his mental strings―you struggle desperately to not smile as your mind obsessively plays and replays his words, your eyes narrow into thin slits as your gaze doesn’t leave his, because your suspicions are confirmed, he likes you. That describes his change of habitual conduct. A hideous notion strikes you, how wonderful it would be to use the satisfying exhibitions of power and control to deliberately create more desire in him―only to capriciously deny it. It is clear that he doesn’t know that you are a virgin if he accuses you of sleeping with other men. The question is―what exactly provoked him? But your abstraction is evidently so deep, and your whole aspect so misanthropical that Bucky thinks how uncomfortable you might be feeling. He reflects that all those words will be branded in his memory, and they eat him deeply, eternally, because he should have not said them. All because of his greedy jealousy. He looks astonished at the expression on your face, only assuming what you might be thinking of him―he gazes at you with mournful and questioning eagerness, clearly on the verge of madness. He endeavors to say something, but can’t manage it which makes him compress his mouth as he holds a silent combat with his inward shame, meanwhile, your mind offers a perfect plan.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

You whisper, anxiously, yet boldly―mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes—you can drown in those eyes and it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. His beautiful features offer themselves to your gaze as you trail through them, annoyed at how attractive he is. You feel stuffy, there is not enough air to breathe as his eyes stare at your lips for a few moments.

“Watch that mouth”

A wicked curve appears on his lips, because your pure innocence is a kind of insanity to his mind that sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity. Kiss you? He wants to fuck you. You are so impetuous and bold―addictive. “Or what? You will kiss it?”

You say which makes you glance up to find his eyes blazing with raw need. Innocent and virtuous, you represent the exact type of female he needs to avoid…“Or I will fuck it”―ugh, he can’t say that, but he wants to. God, he feels so naked knowing you have clearly identified his desire for you. He can’t go any further down. Rock bottom. His mind is a mess, but he has no intention of cleaning today. You lean, but before he can say anything you lean back and smile, leaving him to grapple with an absurd sense of disappointment. Teasing Bucky is part of the fun that comes before kissing—oh, you will for sure ruin him long before you touch him. It will be more satisfying to exhibit power and control than deliberately creating desire—only to capriciously deny it. His smile is faint and lopsided, his answer takes a long time, which is uncharacteristic: “Don’t do that again” Bucky’s voice is measured, his longing raw. Self control is all he has left. His face feels scattered in pieces and he can’t not keep it straight. The feeling is a whole lot worse than being hungry for any dinner, yet it is like that. All he can think about―is you. “Why? What will you do?” Your laughter sounds like music, you just can’t miss a chance to remind him what a brat you are and that's when a sense of his folly compels him to mutter: “Why don’t you really keep your mouth shut?” You guess he utters those words, at least, though his voice is hardly intelligible. You know his voice well, bright and brittle, but now it has the thinnest layer of ice over―you know that he feels guilty about liking you. His question is an attempt to repress the intensity of your delight. He looks at you with a droll expression―half angry, half laughing at your boldness. “Why don’t you-” your exhalation carries a rasping tremor as if holding back a giggle “-give my mouth something else to do?” His mouth gaps, but no sound comes out. He stares at you, with a grin hovering about his lips, and a scowl gathering over his eyes:

“I have no words” he articulates softly. “Bucky…” you tease him “You always have something to say” And yet, he freezes stiff, as if he has been pushed onstage in a play where he doesn't know the lines―God, you’ve broken him. You’ve managed to render him speechless―Dominance. Control. These things are the roots of Bucky’s character. And you are the first person to defy his dominance and to challenge his self control. What a languid woman, a force of gravity by which you irresistibly make him speechless—and at the same time, fuel a new side to him. Eye contact. There is more in the eyes. Longing. The naughtiness emanates from your eyes—you look at him like you own him, openly teasing him as if it’s normal. And now you know that he needs you. This scarred, broken man needs you...and you want to be there for him. There is a silent promise not to let his secret out, but there is no promise for not teasing him purposely from now on—you jolt at the knowledge that you are instilling his inner peace to such an extent.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky imagine #female reader #bucky barnes #winter soldier

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queenashen · 2 days

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Line wasn’t very long

#bucky barnes #winter soldier #bucky barnes drabble #sebastian stan #bucky x you #tfatws #james buchanan barnes #stucky #steve rogers

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delicatebarness · 18 hours

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i cant read your mind | chapter two

Summary: After hearing the news, you go to confront Sam. However, you end up on your first mission since the return of Thanos.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier spoilers throughout.

Word Count: 1584

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A/N: Two chapters in one night. I did plan for this chapter to cover the whole of episode two of FATWS however, I also don't like the chapters being too long so here's the first half.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you scrambled for the remote, turning up the volume. On the screen, a man clad in red, white, and blue filled the screen as he stood tall, winking at the camera. The new Captain America.

Racing with questions, your mind couldn’t stop. How could they replace Steve like that? And who the fuck even was this new Captain America? Was he even worthy of carrying the shield?

Frustration and anger boiled your blood, mixing with the hurt from Bucky’s appearance the day before. The world felt like it was spinning out of control, and tears began to trickle down your cheeks.

Taking a deep breath, you wiped away the tears and forced yourself to focus. With determination, you got up and made your way to find Sam.

“You had no right to give up the shield, Sam.” you listened to Bucky and Sam talk about the situation as they made their way closer to you. Not yet noticing your presence.

“Hey. This is what you’re not gonna do.” an amused smile tugged at the corners of your lips as Sam began to tell Bucky straight, “You’re not gonna come here in your overextended life and tell me about my rights. It’s over Bucky.”

Applause echoed through the room, drawing the attention of Sam and Bucky. Bucky’s gaze locked with yours, while Sam’s eyes rolled.

“You too?” Sam’s voice filled with annoyance as he addressed you. Your smile remained as you stepped forward.

“How could I resist this party?” you quipped, voice laced with amusement. “Sam, you know I respect your decision,” you sent him a sincere smile as his expression softened at your words. He was grateful for your support, now and back in Washington. “But, we need to fix this.”

“I have bigger things to deal with now,” Sam exclaimed, taking both you and Bucky by surprise. “What could be bigger than this?” Bucky asked, his disbelief was evident.

You listened to Sam and Bucky go back and forth about the group called the Flag Smashers and The Big Three. You were on Bucky’s side about the wizards, but you knew agreeing with Sam would rile him up.

As the conversation carried on, you felt a sense of urgency. Without a second thought, you began walking toward the waiting jet. “Where do you think you’re going?” Bucky called out to you, his tone mixed with frustration and concern.

As you reach the jet, you turn to face Bucky, “I’m going with Sam,” you stated firmly, meeting his gaze. Bucky’s gaze hardened as both he and Sam walked towards you, you heard them bickering between each other but resulted in rolling your eyes as you boarded.

The flight to Germany was quiet for the most part, there was an occasional interruption from the rumble of the jet’s engine. You found yourself consistently checking your phone for texts from your date, and stealing glances between Sam and Bucky. They had been engrossed in a silent staring contest for most of the flight. Their unspoken tension filled the cabin.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Bucky’s snarky remark cut the tension, his annoyance evident as he observed your constant glances down to your phone.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. “Jealous, Barnes?” you teased. He rolled his eyes at your response. You tucked your phone away, ready to turn your attention to the mission.

As the journey to Germany continued, Bucky and Sam returned to their staring contest, only breaking again when Sam got up to pick his comm up. Bucky followed his lead and you followed Bucky’s. And, within an instant, they returned to their arguing: This time about a plan.

“Where’s the chute?” Bucky asked, resulting in finding out you were too low for them. He looked back at you with concern, he knew he could survive the jump, but you wouldn’t. You knew you couldn’t afford to waste time, it was too risky to attempt jumping with Bucky.

“I’ll catch up with you from the ground,” you reassured the super soldier, his concern was palpable as he looked back at you. His eyes betrayed him as they filled with worry.

He nodded, reaching his Vibranium hand to your cheek and running his fingers down your neck. A shiver was sent down your spine, you missed the cool feeling of his left hand. “Be careful, baby,” he whispered in your ear before turning to prepare for the jump. You watched him as you allowed yourself a moment to apprehend the feeling of being called ‘Baby’ by him again.

Stepping out onto the solid ground, you felt the urge of determination course through you. You heard over the comms that Sam and Bucky wasted no time, they immediately sprung into action. Immediately, you began searching for a car you could use to catch up to them. Your mind focused solely on reaching them, you wasted nothing rushing towards a car you knew would be fast enough. Using your government identity to secure it, you thanked the salesman and wasted no time roaring the engine and speeding off in the direction of Sam and Bucky.

As you sped toward their location, Sam updated you on the tracking information for Redwing over the comms. “Shit!” Bucky’s exclaim echoed through the small earpiece, you pressed down harder on the gas pedal, determined to reach them.

Finally reaching their location, you witnessed Sam swiftly grabbing Bucky from under the truck, and soaring with him into a nearby field. Meanwhile, you continued to trail behind the truck, your eyes widening in surprise as you noticed the new Captain America engaged in a fight on top of it.

“Those are Super Soldier, kid, get out of there.” Bucky’s voice was urgent as it crackled through the comms, his concern for you still evident as he warned you of the danger.

Your voice was laced with determination as you responded, “Don’t call me ‘kid’.” You prepared to face the Super Soldier head-on. As you prepared mentally, you didn’t see the new Captain America about to collide with the car. The impact was catastrophic, causing you to lose control of the vehicle and tumble off the road and into the woodland area by the field.

Before you could register what had happened, new Cap and his friend had vanished. Sam and Bucky were by your side in an instant. “I told you to be careful,” Bucky reminded you as he gently pulled you from the wreckage, steadying you.

As Sam and Bucky conversed between themselves, you found comfort in intertwining your fingers with Bucky’s, his silent gesture of support. A chill swept over you, causing your body to tremble.

Coming to a halt, Bucky crouched down to meet your gaze as concern plastered over his face. “You okay?” he asked, noting the shallow and rapid rise and fall of your breathing. You nodded, feeling the chill of shock settling.

Bucky swiftly removed his jacket and draped it over you. Despite the absence of his left sleeve, the jacket still provided warmth and comfort.

After walking for a while longer, the sound of a horn honking beside you caught the attention of the three of you. You looked up, meeting the gaze of the new Captain America. John Walker, Sam had explained to you previously. Despite his efforts to engage in conversation, you followed Sam and Bucky’s lead, choosing to ignore them.

However, it didn’t take long for Walker to provoke a reaction out of Bucky, unknowingly circling back to the topic of wizards. This led to Bucky defending the Captain America title, causing a rise now out of Walker. After realizing that Bucky was unfazed, Walker shifted his approach, acknowledging the state you were currently in.

“Look, it’s 20 miles to the airport. You guys need a ride.” Walker offered, and he tried to convey a sense of goodwill despite the unlying tension. Your eyes pleaded with Bucky as he glanced down at you. Walker might not have been your choice of Captain America but the idea of sitting down sounded appealing.

Bucky assisted you into the car with a sigh. You couldn’t but grimace inwardly as you locked glances with Walker the moment he shot you the same wink you had seen earlier on television. The one moment you wouldn’t have protested Bucky throwing a punch for someone looking at you, and he misses it.

You nestled your head against Bucky’s shoulder as they discussed the issue of The Flag Smashers. With each glance from Walker toward you, Bucky's body tensed beneath you, prompting an episode of the infamous Bucky stare-off.

“Does he always just stare like that?” Walker asked Sam, a smile tugged at your lips at the thought of Bucky’s intense stare making Walker so uncomfortable, he needed reassurance. “You get used to it,” Sam huffed in response. The conversation resumed as they spoke about the government and what they were trying to do to help after The Blip.

“Battlestar?” Bucky exclaimed, a sense of annoyance mixed with amusement in his voice. “Stop the car!” He commanded the driver. The car came to a halt and Bucky wasted no time to exit leaving Walker shouting back toward him. “Come on, Y/N!” Bucky’s voice boomed a clear demand for you to follow him.

For a moment you debated if you should follow your ex-situationship or simply stay in the car and avoid walking the rest of the way to the airport.

---

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scoonsalicious · 19 hours

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Unwanted: Chapter 25, Unprotected - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

WARNING: THIS PART HAS A MAJOR THEME THAT SHOULD HAVE A WARNING, BUT I DO NOT WANT TO SPOIL THE PLOT. THEREFORE, IF THERE IS SOMETHING YOU FEAR YOU MAY NOT BE ABLE TO HANDLE, *PLEASE* DM ME FOR THE WARNING BEFORE READING!

Word Count: 1.7k

Previously On...: Uh... something went horribly wrong.

A/N: BUCKY IS BACK, and just in time <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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You weren’t sure what woke you up– the incessant beeping or the dull ache between your legs.

“Ugh, Sam, turn off your fucking alarm clock,” you muttered, pulling your blanket above your head. When had the apartment lights gotten so hideously bright? “Sam’s not here, doll. ‘Fraid it’s just me.”

Your eyes shot open at the sound of his voice, and you slowly pulled the blanket down from your face. You were lying on a bed in the middle of a hospital suite, and Bucky Barnes was sitting in an armchair in the corner. He looked haggard, as if he hadn’t done anything but worry and fret since arriving.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you asked him, fighting to keep your voice steady. You’d hoped time would have helped lessen the pain you felt at the sight of him, but no– he still tore at your heart.

“You never changed your emergency contact,” he said, getting up from his chair to sit at the edge of your bed. Lovely. You were going to have to re-traumatize yourself because you hadn’t been assed to update fucking paperwork.

You rubbed your eyes with your hands. “What happened?” you asked.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Bucky said. He reached for you but you, but you pulled away, leaving him to frown at the space where your hand had been. “All they would tell me was that your distress beacon was activated, and when SHIELD operatives responded to your safehouse, they found you passed out in a pool of blood. They had you in surgery when I got here.”

“Surgery?” You began patting your body, searching for bandages or stitches, some sign of an incision, but you found nothing. “I don’t feel like I had surgery.”

Bucky shrugged. “That’s all they told me. Since I’m technically not family, they wouldn’t say anything more.” You scoffed. He was a lot less than ‘technically not family’.

“Well, I’m not dead,” you said dismissively, “so no reason for you to stay.” You shooed him away with a flap of your wrists. “Go on home now.”

Bucky snorted. “All laid up in the hospital and still, you got jokes,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. Sam called Steve on his way to the airport, told him what went down with A.J., so looks like you’re in need of a new mission partner.” The smirk behind his eyes was enough to make you sneer.

“No,” you said, crossing your arms, and you were sure you looked very intimidating in your hospital gown with an IV sticking out of your hand. “I’m good, thanks. Don’t need any help, especially not yours.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at you. “Always so stubborn,” he chided. “Doesn’t matter what you want, doll. Captain’s orders; I’m here to stay, at least until Sam gets back.”

Fucking wonderful. As if you didn’t have enough to worry about, with girls getting murdered, Hydra funding the Wiggle Room, you randomly bleeding out and collapsing, and poor A.J.’s condition still unknown. Maybe there was something so seriously wrong with you, they’d make you go back to the Tower to recover and Bucky would be forced to stay down here, alone. God, was that actually what you were hoping for, now? Your life had indeed gone to shit.

There was a soft knock on your door and a man in a white doctor’s coat and glasses entered, carrying a clipboard.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued: “I’m Dr. Carson; I’ve been attending to you during your stay with us. I’m glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

You barked out a humorous laugh. “Like I’ve been thoroughly fucked by a cactus, Doc. Care to explain what the hell happened to me?”

Bucky suppressed a snort as the doctor blushed and averted his gaze. “Yes, well, it’s quite normal to experience some mild discomfort following a D&C,�� he began.

You sat up straighter, positive you had misheard him. “I’m sorry,” you interrupted, “a fucking what now?” He couldn’t have said what you thought you heard him say.

Dr. Carson coughed. “A Dilation and Curettage,” he explained. “It’s a procedure to–”

“Oh, I know what it’s fucking is,” you said, raising your voice. “What I don’t understand is why I would even need one in the first place!” Except you did. There was only one reason, and it made everything make perfect sense– the vomiting, the fatigue, all of it.

Before the doctor could answer you, Bucky spoke up: “Uh, I don’t know what it is. One of you care to explain to me what the hell all this means?”

“It’s none of your fucking business, Barnes,” you grumbled, just as the doctor spoke over you:

“It’s a surgical procedure that requires dilation of the cervix and the removal of tissue from the uterus,” he said. “In this case, that would be necrotic fetal tissue.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Um, okay,” Bucky said as he considered the doctor’s words. You watched as the realization came over his face. “Holy shit. Fetal tissue? Like… like a baby?”

Dr. Carson nodded slowly. “Yes.” He turned back to face you. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms. (Y/L/N), but it appears that you’ve experienced what we call a spontaneous miscarriage. Near as we can figure, you were about sixteen weeks along.”

You brought both hands to your temples. Was this real life?

“Were you not aware you were pregnant?” the doctor asked, taking in the look of complete shock on your face. “When was the date of your last period?”

Before you could control yourself, you began laughing with the absolute absurdity of the entire situation. “I’ve been slightly preoccupied,” you managed to get out. “Between the baby’s father” you thumbed at Bucky, “cheating on me with my greatest enemy, working undercover to save a bunch of women from sex trafficking and now solving a murder, too, I guess, so forgive me if I haven’t really been keeping track.”

The look Dr. Carson gave you then was a mixture of concern and alarm, and you were fairly confident he was this close to having you held for a mandatory psych eval. Good; you could benefit from a vacation.

“Could, you, uh,” Bucky cleared his throat, “give us a moment alone, please, doctor? I’m sure Pock– I mean (Y/N) needs a minute to collect herself, to process.”

“Yes, of course,” Dr. Carson said, seeming relieved that one of you appeared sane, at least. “I’ll send a nurse over in a little while to check your vitals, and we can see about getting you discharged.”

Bucky nodded and offered the doctor his thanks on your behalf, because you were still laughing. Dr. Carson left the room, his haste evident.

“Pocket,” Bucky said, trying to get your attention, but you ignored him. “Pocket,” he tried again, this time grabbing both your shoulders in his hands and gently shaking them. “Hey, get yourself together, come on!”

Your laughter tapered away and you wiped a tear away from your eye. “Oh my god,” you exhaled. “I’m sorry, but this is just… I’ve been running around pregnant for four fucking months? Come on! That’s, like, an entire third of a year! You gotta admit, that’s fucking insane!”

Bucky studied you. “You really didn’t know?”

You snorted. “Of course not! If I knew, I wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with, because I would have taken care of it the second I found out.”

A frown took over Bucky’s face. “What do you mean, ‘take care of it’?” he asked.

“I mean, like, I would have aborted it,” you said, as though the answer was so unbelievably obvious that it was stupid of him to have even asked, but Bucky’s frown deepened. “You can’t honestly think I would have kept it?”

“It was our baby, Pocket,” he said after a beat, his voice a rough whisper. “You would have killed our baby?!”

You rolled your eyes. “What? Just because you knocked me up, I’m supposed to forget everything you put me through and play happy co-parents with you and step mommy Carthage for the next eighteen years? No fucking thank you.”

“I would have married you,” he said, and you noticed for the first time that his voice was full of sorrow, his eyes lined with tears. Jesus Christ, this was hurting him. “We would have raised him or her together. Been a family.”

You laughed, the sound harsh and awkward to your own ears. “There’s no way in hell I’d marry you,” you told him. “Not after what you did. A clump of cells doesn’t just absolve you from your sins.”

“That was our child,” Bucky said, with so much anguish in his voice that you pulled yourself back. “That was a baby we made, out of our love, and you’re talking about it like it’s… it’s inconvenient garbage.”

“Yeah, well, I guess the trash took itself out,” you said bitterly.

Bucky looked at you in abject horror. “You don’t mean that,” he said, as though trying to convince himself as much as you. “You’re… you’re in shock. You’ve been through a trauma, and you’re not thinking straight.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t mean that,” he reiterated.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, James.” You turned your head away from him, not wanting to see the way he was looking at you, as if you were a complete stranger.

The suite’s door opened again, and a nurse came in, dragging a portable computer cart behind her. Saved by the vitals, you thought.

“This conversation isn’t over,” Bucky said under his breath, and you sighed, knowing that you weren’t going to be able to table this discussion for long, but not knowing what he hoped to get out of you.

He couldn’t seriously have expected you to want to have had a baby with him, could he? Not after everything. To be forced into close proximity with him for the next two decades, and be tied together for the rest of your lives with a constant reminder of what could have been, should have been, with what he prevented you from ever having? That was just… delusional.

Even though, if you had given yourself a chance to truly think about it, outside of the initial shock of it all, that was what you would have wanted, too.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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rookthorne · 2 days

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬

To find one to dance to the Devil’s call was a rare thing, but you found your match in the least expected place.

The only problem? A small, little girl that was determined to never let her new friend forget that she was home, too.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ୨୧ DILF!Bucky Barnes x Babysitter!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ୨୧ 2.9k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ୨୧ Fluff, domesticity, pancakes are a love language, heated kissing, implied adult discussion (doesn't actually happen in the fic), very light angst (anxiety)

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ୨୧ The awaited sequel is here! ୨୧ I think it's a very possible eventuation that I am addicted to writing this smug, arrogant, son of a— ୨୧ A very big thank you to @smutconnoisseur for being my soundboard for this fic, and for helping me make the ending the best it could be — I am so damned grateful.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ୨୧ older by Isabel LaRosa ୨୧ Lose Control by Teddy Swims

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ୨୧ @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ჻჻჻ Mutual Pining (March), Domestic (April) — Masterlist

𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You were slow to wake the next day. The sun had not yet started to bleed through the curtains on the opposite side of the room — it couldn’t have been any later than sunrise, you hoped.

The night before had been one hell of a shock to your system, and you could still feel Bucky’s lips ghost over yours if you just thought hard enough; or how his voice lowered to a tenor that shook you to your core. All night you dreamed of more, chasing that forbidden high he supplied wholly and fully — a willing and far more enthusiastic half to your own.

Naturally, there were going to be obstacles and challenges to navigate to the possibility of a relationship — one of which you could hear parading up and down the hallway with fast, little footsteps.

After Starlet’s pressing interrogation while you readied her for sleep — a surprise that she (impressively) cornered you with — that it may be more of a smooth reveal than you could hope for, but still, nerves boiled and bubbled in your stomach, clinging to your insides like glue.

No point delaying it any longer, you thought, and you threw the mountain of covers off of your body. Though the indiscernible noise of the plush mattress moving underneath your sleep-stiff body was a siren call for small ears, fortunately, or unfortunately.

The door creaked open just as you lifted your head off of the pillow, and a figure, their head no taller from the floor to the handle, peered inside. “Hello?”

You blinked and sat up further. “He– Oof!”

In a blur of stripes and polka dots and a tangle of hair, you were knocked back onto the mattress with two thin arms around your neck. “Fawn! You’re here! Did you st– Why are you here? Did daddy let you sleep–?”

“Let her wake up, baby,” a deep voice said from the doorway. It neared as they said, “And I told you, no playing upstairs.” The weight moved from your front to your side, and you saw a toothy, bright grin that could belong to no other than Starlet. “There she is.”

You looked to the side and saw Bucky standing at the end of the bed, arms crossed over his chest. He wore a dark cotton shirt and grey sweatpants while his hair lay loose and mussed. Every last comprehensible, coherent thought fled your mind and pooled in your stomach, and Bucky knew as such — the blue of his eyes darkened with a knowing glint, turning them stormy grey.

Get it together, you intoned — outwardly, you said with a rasp, “Well, good morning to you two.”

“Good mornin’, Fawn,” Bucky said, beaming down at you. “Did you get some sleep, love?” The weight on your side pressed harder while Bucky spoke.

“Good, good, good morning,” Starlet sang, her smile as wide as her father’s.

A light laugh flowed with your words, “Yeah, I slept well, really well, thank you. Wait– Do I smell–”

“Breakfast! Daddy started it already because he is the best.” Bucky put a hand over his heart and inclined his head, before dramatically wiping a non-existent tear. Starlet shook your shoulder to get your attention and said, “Do you like coffee? I can press the big button on daddy’s machine for you!”

“Sure, honey,” you said, and before you could offer to help her down from the bed, she took off like a shot towards the door and down the hall. “Well, that went better than I could have hoped…”

Bucky laughed and shook his head, then he looked at you; a piercing stare that rooted you to the spot. “You feelin’ okay, baby?”

You gulped. “Y– Yeah, I am, are you?”

There was a beat of silence, the tension mounting by the second, when Bucky rounded the end of the bed to stand right next to you. His hand brushed the side of your neck, then his thumb lifted your chin.

“Never been better, Doe,” he murmured, and he leaned close to kiss you softly. It was a fleeting, chaste brush of lips, but it didn’t fail to stir up the heat that had been left simmering from the night before. “We’ll talk later, but come down and get some breakfast, okay?”

“Okay,” you managed, though it sounded more like a wheezed gasp than a reply. “I– uh–” You cleared your throat and sat up more. “I’ll see you in the kitchen.”

A soft smile pulled at the corner of Bucky’s lips, and he nodded when a yell from downstairs echoed up the well, “Daddy!”

Bucky sighed and turned towards the door. “What?” he called back.

“I wanna give Fawn one of my cups for her big girl drink!” You snorted a laugh while Bucky walked towards the door.

“Starlet Barnes, I swear to Gramma Winnie that if you’re up on that damned stool–” His voice trailed away while he made his way down to stop his daughter from injuring herself.

The covers came away with a rustle, and you moved to stand up and stretch.

The adjoining bathroom to the guest bedroom was just as opulent as you could have expected — marble tiles lined the floor, and some type of gleaming tile decorated each wall. It was coloured with deep, moody tones, and as you fiddled with the shower, steam billowed through the room.

You took a deep breath, letting the steam fill your lungs. The racing thoughts slowed as soon as the water pelted against your skin, a soothing pattern that allowed you to distance yourself from the worries of what was to come. “It’ll be okay,” you murmured to yourself, cupping your face in your hands. “It will be okay.”

After some time passed, you stepped out from the guest room, dressed in a set of clothes Bucky left for you. It was a shirt, and a pair of soft, worn slacks — they were beyond comfortable, and you yawned as you began to make your way to the stairs.

But you froze as you reached the top of the stairs. Bucky was talking quietly, his voice soft. “Don’t bombard the poor girl, baby.” The scrape of utensils on a plate echoed, and then the drag of porcelain over tile. “She’s stressed—can’t have any more on her shoulders, can we?”

You leaned forward over the balustrade to look down into the kitchen. From your vantage point, Starlet was sitting on a tall stool and Bucky was next to her, cutting up her pancakes with care.

The distance made it hard to discern the quiet words that Starlet uttered, but you caught them, nonetheless. “Can I make her a picture, daddy?”

Bucky beamed at his daughter. “‘Course you can, honey. I think Fawn would love it; she might even stick it on her fridge at home–”

“But home is here; she’s staying here isn’t she–?”

“Uh–” Bucky’s voice was strained, dumbstruck with the implicit question not unlike the interrogation you survived through by the skin of your teeth the night before. “Honey… I, uh– Fawn–”

“But you smile a lot when she’s around,” Starlet insisted.

There was no air, you couldn’t pull any into your lungs; it was sapped from the atmosphere, vanished without a trace to leave you reeling at the top of the stairs. “Shit,” you muttered.

After a long moment of silence, where you could physically watch the gears turn in Bucky’s head on how best to assuage and sate his daughter’s curiosity and downright accurate observations, he spoke. “I know, baby. Fawn is very special to me; she’s kind, she’s funny, and she’s very pretty. But you’re my priority, Starlet—always will be.

His thumb brushed her small chin, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “She takes good care a’you and that’s what’s most important.”

You could almost hear the unspoken undercurrent of meaning in his words, and it made your stomach flip.

However, nothing could have prepared you for what Starlet said next.

“She makes you happy, daddy,” she said, almost a whisper. “I like seeing you smile—uncle Steeb said it’s important to be happy.”

“Oh,” you gasped, and your hand flew to cover your mouth. Tears from overwhelming tides of emotion flocked your lash line, blurring your vision.

“I guess it is, honey,” Bucky said softly.

It took a long while to gather your senses while you stood on the balustrade, hand still clutching the stair rail for support. The powerful waves of emotion battered against the walls you had so weakly placed around your heart, and in your own disbelief, you wondered how this could have happened so fast — not long ago you were holed up in your apartment looking for work when you stumbled upon that advertisement. You jumped at the chance, and it landed you here, in a position where you were stuck between a rock in a hard place.

To confess and ruin your prospects for your job but possibly gain something so much more or keep your thoughts to yourself and pray that it fizzled on its own.

And even then, you knew you were asking for a miracle; that kiss still lingered in your mind, overshadowing your waking thoughts with more than inappropriate fantasies of just how experienced he was.

You shook your head, willing the thoughts to quieten down, at least until after breakfast — Bucky said the two of you could talk about that kiss. That would be the time to find answers, you reasoned.

Slowly, you took the stairs one by one, sure to make yourself heard and known. The living room and kitchen was flooded with natural sunlight that streamed through the trees that lined the edge of the property, and on the edge of the counter closest to you was a bouquet of white roses, wrapped in white cellophane.

Bucky looked up from his daughter’s plate and smiled widely as he took you in. The softness of his eyes made your heart ache; a yearning to stride forwards and embrace him. “They’re for you, Fawn,” he said, nodding to the roses. “Little miss Starlet helped me pick ‘em out for you—as a thank you,” he added as you tilted your head in confusion. “Had ‘em delivered this mornin’.”

“You didn’t have–” You started, but Starlet began to fuss.

“And I did a little picture,” she gushed, pointing at a small piece of paper placed carefully between the numerous bulbs.

“She did,” Bucky agreed.

You smiled, just a twitch of your lips, and you walked towards the arrangement. The roses were in full bloom, their beauty bewitching and soft, tender — just like the love you held for the pair in front of you. “They’re beautiful,” you whispered, touching the outer ring of petals with the pad of your index finger.

The crayon drawing depicted a princess between a knight and a queen, their gowns flowing in a rainbow of colours, and the knight’s armour gleamed white from the imaginary sun in the top corner of the paper. You looked towards Starlet and smirked. “And now I have a perfect addition for my fridge.”

Starlet positively beamed with pride.

A plate loaded with an assortment of breakfast foods replaced the bouquet, and you glanced down — Bucky cooked each morsel to perfection, and you couldn’t help but feel your mouth water from the aromas that spliced the air. Complex notes of browned butter and sugar mixed with the heady, salted scents that could rival a five-star restaurant.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “Buck–? Were you a chef?”

Bucky laughed and hung his head, and to your surprise, a blush started to bloom over his cheekbones. A few strands of loose hair fell from behind his ears, and you felt faint with the need to tuck them back, while also conflicted with the lust to run your fingers through it from root to tip and pull.

“I’ve been around for a while, honey,” he chuckled, throwing a hand towel over his shoulders. His hands held the edge of the counter, and he leaned forward, pushing his weight onto his wrists to make his biceps bulge — it was an effort to focus only on his face. “Learned a lot, all that sh–” His gaze snapped to a preoccupied Starlet who happily ate her pancakes while swinging her feet. “Sugar.”

You snorted a laugh and shook your head. “I can imagine.”

The three of you tucked in and finished breakfast with little incident — Starlet determinedly rambled on about how many new drawings she was going to complete that afternoon, all while Bucky encouraged her and poked into her ideas with a cheeky, mischievous nature. It was no wonder that Starlet caught on and stared at her father with narrowed eyes.

“I’ll show you,” she huffed, and she pushed the empty plate away towards him. “May I be excused?”

“Yeah, baby, you go get what you wanna show me,” Bucky said smoothly, picking up the plate. “Fawn and I will be here waitin’.”

Starlet dashed off with her unparalleled enthusiasm, and you looked back towards Bucky to start a pleasant conversation, when the words died on your tongue. The blazing want in his once cerulean eyes had vanished behind the inky black of his pupils, and his eyes were darting back and forth from your eyes to your lips, where they lingered.

You watched, enraptured, while his tongue ran over his bottom lip. “I– Hmph!”

His lips collided with yours while his left hand cupped your jaw, his right pawing at your waist. Your feet stumbled clumsily backwards, only able to go where he put you, and your back hit the fridge door. The force of it made the appliance rattle.

It didn’t deter you from giving him your all — the raw passion behind the kiss fueled the simmering fire into an inferno, the heat of it lapped up your spine and wrapped around every last nerve.

“Shit,” Bucky hissed against your lips, pulling back to gasp for air. “I couldn’t resist any more, baby—can’t fuckin’ get enough a’you.”

Desperation clawed at your insides when you realised you were in the damned kitchen of all places, and Starlet would be back at any second. “Shut up and kiss me,” you demanded.

Bucky growled low in his throat and surged forwards, claiming your lips again only to nip at your bottom lip with his teeth, soothing it over with his tongue. Your fingers wound through his loose hair that fell to his neck, the softness a luxury you couldn’t help but need more of — you pulled and revelled in the hitch of breath against your lips, the way his hips bucked forward.

A small moan vibrated your throat, and he grew more insistent, demanding in his fervour. It was only when he pulled back to mouth open kisses down your neck did you hear him groan with need. “Fuckin’ need you now, Doe.”

“Yes, yes,” you panted. “Fuck, please–”

Small, fast footsteps came from the loft above the kitchen and Bucky hung his head, his forehead landing on your collarbone with a heavy sigh. “Fuck, I need you.”

You blinked and shook yourself inwardly. “I– Fuck, yeah, me too.”

Bucky pulled away from your body with a thoughtful frown. “I want you.”

The way your heart lurched into your throat from your chest was almost painful, and you gulped around it. “I– Oh, god.”

“I jus’ wanna get a feel of where your head’s at, yeah?” he said softly. “I need to make sure that you want this as much as I do.”

“That– Yeah, I do, I really, really do–” You tried, furiously working your throat to swallow, though your mouth was dry.

Bucky smiled and squeezed your waist with his hand, and he pecked you on the lips before he pulled away. “Don’t you worry, baby. I want you here with me, and with her.” He nodded towards his approaching daughter, who was occupied with carrying rolls and rolls of paper. “I know she does too.”

The words, while they were whispered against your lips, they came with a promise, one that entailed your whole future.

Starlet’s excited tone pulled you from staring into Bucky’s eyes, and you smiled as she held up some of the rolls of paper for you to take. “Come on, Fawn,” she rushed, giggling. Her small hand grasped yours, and then pulled you along.

Deep, rasped laughter came from behind you, and you looked over your shoulder to see her father watching the two of you with bright eyes; a glint of adoration in them that made the blue of his irises so much deeper.

“I want you,” he mouthed, and he inclined his head to look at you, then he turned into the kitchen to supposedly grab his cup of coffee.

“What’s taking you so long?” Starlet asked, indignant. She stood to your side with her nose scrunched in annoyance — an expression you knew she inherited from her father. “I have these to show you and daddy.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming, sweetheart,” you soothed, squeezing her hand.

She took the assurance and dashed away. You watched her as she guided you towards the couch in the living room, and you heard heavy footsteps behind you — Bucky was following slowly.

“Honey, please don’t pull her arm off,” he teased, and Starlet only huffed. “We need her, remember? Who’s goin’ to let you stay up past your bedtime then, huh?”

You blinked. “That was not my fault–”

Bucky took a sip from his mug, smirking behind the rim. “I know all, I see all—can’t hide shit from me, baby,” he whispered, and he winked.

The narrow-eyed stare you sent him only made him laugh, and somehow, the sound soothed your worries, and you knew it was going to be alright.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #babb2023 #rookthorne's works

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scoonsaliciousupdates · 3 days

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Unwanted: Chapter 24, Undercover - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, exotic dancing, underage drug use, implications of human trafficking, poorly translated Russian

Word Count: 1.8k

Previously On...: You returned back to the safehouse. Sam told you Bucky's been trying to avoid Cunthrage, but you're done caring.

A/N: I'm not going to lie, I love Dimitri. <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

You spent the next few days in one of two ways: your work hours trying to find out as much about Kozlov’s silent partners as possible, and your off time looking for someone to fuck the memory of Bucky right out of you.

You were coming up empty on the former, and even worse on the latter. It didn’t seem to matter how many guys you found to put their dicks in you; none of them did what Bucky could do to your body. You’d at least learned from your mistake with Bad Decision #1 and had gone out and bought a large pack of condoms. You weren’t going to run any more risks in that department.

As you entered the floor for the start of your next shift, Henchman #2– Dimitri– you reminded yourself, approached you.

“Cherry, yes?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Boss vants you to dance in his private lounge tonight,” he said, gently herding you in the direction of Kozlov’s suite of rooms.

“Okay,” you said hesitantly. “Is there a private party, or…” You left the thought hanging, hoping Dimitiri would fill the silence.

Bless his heart, the idiot did. He leaned down to whisper conspiratorially as you walked together. “Zer is big boss with Kozlov tonight,” he told you, and your heart nearly stopped. You couldn’t believe your luck. “He vishes to see ze best talent, and Kozlov ask for you special.” Your eyes glanced down to your bangle. Were they about to try and make you their latest offering for the auction block?

“Big boss?” you asked, feigning ignorance. “But I thought Kozlov owned the club. How can he have a boss if he is the boss?”

You’d stopped now in front of the doors to Kozlov’s rooms.

Dimitiri laughed, as though you were just a silly girl who couldn’t possibly understand how the world worked. “Kozlov owns Viggle Room, yes. Dis iz true. But big boss is from large group zat funds club. Very secret group. Very scary.” He raised his hands like monster claws and laughed. “Kozlov calls zem– how do you say? Gidra.” Hydra.

You gasped, and Dimitri mistook your surprise for fear.

“Oh, not to worry, little dove! I zink zis group not so scary as zey pretend to be. Gidra all talk.” He held up his hand like a puppet. “All ze time, Gidra is ‘blah, blah, blah,’ yes? No action.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, hoping you weren’t pressing your luck with your question.

“Zer is somezing Gidra iz looking for. Zey vant it very bad. Very, very bad. Zey look for long time, yes? But never find. Dimitri think, Gidra cannot be good at job if ze cannot find zis zing zey are to be looking for, no?”

“Well, what are they looking for? Maybe I’ve seen it.” Yeah, you were laying it on a little thick now, but you wanted to keep the man talking to see what other nuggets of intel he was willing to drop in your lap.

“Aw, little dove iz very sweet to ask. But Dimitri doez not know vhat zis important zing iz. Kozlov never say.” “That doesn’t seem very nice of him,” you said, hedging on a bet to gain move of the man’s confidence. “You’ve always seemed like a very good employee for Mr. Kozlov. Very loyal, very brave. He should reward you by trusting you more.”

Dimitri’s chest puffed up a bit at your words. “Little dove is kind. Dimitri iz not worried. Kozlov will tell if Dimitri must know.”

Well, that failed.

Dimitri knocked on the door, and after a moment, Kozlov answered, shirt half unbuttoned and nose already red from having snorted something. Wonderful, you thought. This’ll be great.

“Cherry Pie, boss,” Dimitri said, presenting you to Kozlov. The look the club owner gave you as he eyed you up and down was downright lecherous and you had to suppress the way it made your skin crawl.

“Ah, ze little dove, at last!” Kozlov exclaimed, throwing the door open wider. You glanced over his shoulder and could see a few other men, among them six or seven of Kozlov’s top girls in various states of undress. “Come, come,” he motioned you inside. “I have friendz I vish you to meet!”

If you had been expecting Kozlov to walk you up to each man and introduce them by name, you were sorely mistaken. Instead, he put his hands on your shoulder and addressed them as if you were an inanimate object.

“Gentlemen, I present our Cherry Pie! She haz only been vith us a short time, but she haz proved very popular, and has much talent. Show them vhat you do, little dove.”

He smacked your ass, your cue to begin your dance. You tried to keep your focus on the men’s conversation as you gyrated to the music, but one of the other girls danced her way over to you and tried striking up a conversation.

“Hi! I’m Chloe! I hope you don’t mind; I watched some of your sets. You’re such a good dancer!” You smiled in her direction, not wanting to take your concentration from the men, who seemed to be comparing the girls against one another.

“How long have you been in the business,” the girl– Chloe– asked you.

“A while,” you murmured

“No wonder you’re so good, then!” She smiled brightly as she bent over and shook her ass. “You’ve had time to practice. I just started. My stepdad set me up at this place. I guess he used to play cards with Mr. Kozlov? That’s how he knew the club needed more dancers.”

That caught your attention and you froze momentarily. “How old are you?” you asked her. You turned to really look at her. God. She could have been you fifteen years ago.

Chloe leaned in close and whispered in your ear. “Eighteen,” she said with a giggle– you didn’t believe her for a minute, “but my stepdad said if anyone asks, I’m supposed to tell them I’m twenty-one”

Your stomach turned, and you felt for a moment like you might be sick. “Why aren’t you in school?” you asked her, trying to keep the sudden tremble out of your voice.

Chloe shrugged as she turned in a seductive circle. “My stepdad says we need money more than I need school right now. He said once we’re back on our feet, I can go back.”

“What about your mom? What does she say? She can’t agree with that.”

Chloe’s face fell, and the churning sensation in your stomach intensified. “She’s sick.” Her voice was so soft now you had to strain to hear it.

Your breathing began coming faster, your pulse picking up. This was wrong. “You shouldn’t be here, Chloe,” you whispered to her, desperation in your voice.

Chloe frowned and paused her dancing. “I know I’m not as good as you, but I’m a fast learner. I’ll get better.”

“No,” you interjected quickly. “That’s not what I meant. I mean you shouldn’t be in this club, you shouldn’t be a fucking stripper. You’re just a kid. You should be in school, getting an education, not shaking your ass for some scumbag stepfather.”

A heavy crease appeared between Chloe’s brows. “He’s not a scumbag,” she countered. “He works hard, but the money’s just never enough. Mom’s medicine is expensive, and we don’t have insurance.”

“Then he should have gotten you a job at McDonald’s or something, not making you show strange men your tits for money!” you hissed.

Chloe took a step away from you. “You’re not better than me,” she said, and you could hear the hurt in her voice.

“I never said I was,” you began.

“Ladies!” Kozlov called, interrupting you and drawing the girls’ attention back to where the men were sitting, “come, it iz time to share some party favors!”

On the table were lines of coke, one prepared for each dancer. “Who vill go first?” Kozlov asked with a grin.

Chloe stepped forward, casting you a cold glance.

“Ah, Chloe! Come, come, love.” You wanted to scream, to swipe your hand across the table and send the white powder flying across the room, but it was vital you maintain your cover. You didn’t have nearly enough information to risk blowing it over some, well, blow.

The men murmured appreciatively as Chloe bent over, making sure to point her ass in their direction, as she snorted the line up her nose. It was obvious by the ease in which she did it, with no hesitation, that this was not her first time. You closed your eyes.

One by one, the other girls stepped forward to do their lines. You noticed how the men murmured amongst themselves as each girl stepped up, as if they were judging them. And then it hit you.

This was a test.

They were determining how well you each followed orders, how much resistance you would put up. You watched as some of the girls sniffled and sneezed as they inhaled; these were the girls who made the men seem happiest– you knew they were pleased to see a girl who apparently had never done coke before willingly do so just because a man told her to. They were judging your submissiveness.

Finally, there were only two of you left: you, and a redhead you knew went by Birdie. The poor girl looked terrified and was shaking her head. You stepped forward.

“Ah, little dove,” Kozlov cooed, “I vaz vondering vhen you vould come play.” You took a deep breath to steel your nerves, bent down, and snorted the two remaining lines yourself.

You felt the rush hit you almost immediately. “Oops,” you giggled, “sorry, Birdie. I guess I got a little greedy.” There was no mistaking the gratitude in the other girl’s eyes– it was obvious to her that you had snorted the second line so that she wouldn’t have to.

You could already feel your heart begin to race, and for a moment, you almost felt like you had two heartbeats. Kozlov came up behind you and wrapped a lanky arm around your waist.

“Naughty, naughty, little dove,” he smirked at you. “I vill have to punish you later,” he whispered in your ear. It sent a shiver of repulsion throughout your body, which Kozlov must have taken for anticipation, because he pressed his hips into your back, and you could feel his erection press against you.

From there, your memories of the night became hazy. You had brief flashes of awareness– grinding against one of the visiting men– kissing another dancer– Kozlov’s hands all over your body. You knew the situation was not ideal, that Sam would be furious with you. Hell, you knew you could potentially jeopardize the entire mission, but in the moment, you realized that all the pain, all the anger and rage you’d been holding in because of Bucky– all that was just gone, as though it had blown away on the wind. And though a tiny voice in the back of your head was telling you you’d regret everything in the morning, for the moment, you were grateful.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

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barnesafterglow · 21 hours

Text

night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fame au, dual pov, unreliable narrators, idk how the grammys work (clearly), angst angst angst, steve is a good friend, bucky is Going Thru It, if you think this is joe + taylor coded you're prob right, directly inspired by night shift by lucy dacus

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

masterlist - i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get updates! 🤍

You shoved him off of you, heart racing, breaths coming fast. You had said Bucky’s name, had whispered it in your most intimate moment, and now you needed to leave.

You said nothing else, gathering up your clothes and pulling them on as quickly as you could.

“Wha-”

The door slammed behind you, cold winter winds whipping around you as you realized you’d left your jacket on the hook by the door. It was your favorite, but one you were okay sacrificing as long as you didn’t have to face your embarrassment anymore.

Huffing a breath you could see in front of your face, you called an Uber - at least you had remembered your phone - and paced anxiously a block away from his building, hoping and praying he wouldn’t follow you out.

The entire ride home your mind spiraled until you turned off your phone, terrified this would make headlines already and, let’s be honest, no one would be surprised if it did. You hated that was the life you lived. As if your breakup with Bucky hadn’t already been tabloid fodder for weeks now, the public speculating every detail and warping every comment and photo posted. You had taken to keeping off social media altogether in the time since, trying to disguise your outings as much as possible and take back alleys to recordings and friends’ houses.

Your biggest supporter through all of this, surprisingly, had been Steve - Bucky’s best friend. He hadn’t been your friend first, sure, but he had become like a brother to you nonetheless, and he knew the situation better than anyone. You knew he still talked to Bucky just the same and, while that stung a little, you couldn’t fault him for being there for his childhood best friend too.

Which is how you ended up outside his apartment the very next morning, clad in your typical-as-of-late attire of a hoodie and a hat and sunglasses. It was also how you came face to face with Bucky for the first time since that fateful night.

“I didn’t come to sit here and watch you stare at your feet, James.” You stood from his couch, starting to seethe with pent up anger from your gradually failing relationship, all to end up here. What did he want? To absolve his guilt and shake hands and everything would be fine?

No. You had been the victim of his petty remarks and anxious jealousy for so long. You wouldn’t let him think he deserved your time when he didn’t respect the person you had become.

Your anger flashed back to the week before, the last time you had been seen out in public together as he was breaking up with you at your favorite coffee shop, where he had paid for your drink and you gave him a hesitant kiss, even though you knew it was inevitably coming. He had led you to a table in the corner and proceeded to tell you that he was sorry but he couldn’t do this anymore, it was too much for him - you were too much for him. Okay. That’s all you said was “okay” before you pushed out of the chair and walked around the city until the sun went down.

By the time you got home that night, the headlines were already speculating your breakup, though neither of you had yet to shed a single tear.

Bucky blinked as you shuffled on Steve’s doorstep, eyes wide and contemplating the quickest escape. He didn’t blame you.

He had admittedly not handled your breakup the best; in fact, he regretted it almost immediately at the stricken look on your face, clearly not expecting it. He didn’t blame you for that, either, seeing as it had slipped out in a moment of panic.

You had gained a lot of fame over the course of your relationship, even more than him, and he didn’t quite know how to cope with it. And so the words had poured out, unable to be taken back, and here you were, weeks later, still at odds.

He thought every night of how to make it up to you. Public displays weren’t your thing and you had blocked his number the night of your big fight, so that was out of the question, and he didn’t fancy showing up to your house only to have the door slammed in his face either.

But now, now maybe that you were here on the most neutral ground you could stand on, maybe he could keep his foot out of his mouth and apologize. Words stirred in his hindsight, unable to string together a coherent sentence as your face morphed through the stages of grief in record time. Then, just as he was about to speak, Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him back into the house. Relief flooded your face as you drifted out of his sight, and he realized this probably wasn’t going to be as easy to take back as he thought.

“Buck,” Steve said as the two of them turned around the corner. “You need to leave.”

Bucky felt his face do something awful, a mixture of confusion and guilt, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He simply nodded and kept his head down as he shrugged on his jacket and passed by you in the doorway.

He could hear the soft sound of your sobs as the front door clicked shut.

Songwriting could be as easy as breathing and as hard as climbing a mountain. Right now, the words flooded out of you like a tap of water.

And so did the tears, staining your notebook paper and smearing ink, but still in your heart you knew you would never forget these lyrics - these words that so painstakingly came from your soul and laid it bare.

As you finished the last verse, you took a deep breath, sucked up the tears, and called Natasha.

“Steve, I need to talk to her,” Bucky whined over a beer in a rundown bar in Brooklyn.

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “She’s trying to move on. Don’t ruin that for her.”

“But-”

“No.”

Bucky mimicked Steve’s sigh and leaned back in his chair. It had been increasingly hard to justify his decision to end things with you. He didn’t know what he was thinking and he regretted every moment of it since then.

“Do you think she misses me?” Bucky looked so hopeful, but he could see the sorrow in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

The Grammys, the fucking Grammys, and you were performing. You were nominated for a couple, and the Academy had asked you to sing - preferably a new song - in honor of that.

Natasha wrapped you in a hug, twirled you around, and announced you were going out to celebrate. You hesitantly said yes, knowing the press would be everywhere and there was always the possibility of seeing Bucky.

But fuck him. This was your moment.

Which is how you ended up at your favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Your first mistake.

It was your favorite because Bucky had taken you there so many times. But you couldn’t think of another place you would celebrate than the place where so much inspiration and so many lyrics had come from.

You didn’t scan the room as you walked in with your hand clutching Nat’s, the rest of your small circle of friends following close behind. Your second mistake.

Walking straight to the bar, you didn’t notice Bucky in the far corner, watching your every move. It wasn’t until you were a few drinks in, feeling the celebration kick in, that you spotted him.

At first, you intended to ignore him. This was your time, your night, your moment. He didn’t get the spoil that.

That is, until you went to the bathroom and he trailed you into the dimly lit hallway.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp of beer and no sleep. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

You weren’t prepared to see him tonight, not that you ever were these days. But tonight of all nights, the one that should have been carefree and fun and a glittery memory for years to come, was smeared with anger and heartbreak as you spun to face him.

“What the fuck,” you snapped as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Immediately you felt bad, seeing the hurt on his face, and your expression softened. “Sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.” The catch in his voice broke your heart, your own watery eyes matching his. For just a moment.

It took you too long to come to your senses - this was the man who had shattered your heart without a second thought - but he was already so close to you. His body only inches from your own, his hot breath fanning your face, and goddamnit you missed him. You missed him so much that your heart broke all over again.

Your mind cycled through a thousand different thoughts all at once: get away, come closer, touch me, keep your hands off. You couldn’t decide what you wanted in the moment.

You were so, so angry, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. His hands settled on your waist as the lights overhead flickered. Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, completely of its own volition. Suddenly, you were tracing the planes of the face you had once known so well. He looked older now, like your time apart had aged him, yet his was still as handsome as the day you had first laid eyes on him.

His eyes locked with yours, and neither of you said a word - not him to ask, not you to stop him - as he leaned in to kiss you.

It should have felt like a victory - it did feel like a victory - but there was something else there. Something dark and twisted and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was coming from you or him.

The kiss could have lasted moments or a lifetime, he didn’t really know. All he knew was one second you were holding him close to you and the next you were shoving him off.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” your voice came out in a whisper, like you didn’t want to draw attention from the steadily growing crowd of the bar. He supposed you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded at his words, your fingers pressed to your lips like you could still feel him there. “I’ll just go.”

You nodded again, your eyes vacant, and he made his way back to the main room of the bar. He looked back in time to see you slump against the wall, and he knew that you were thinking of a way to erase any trace of him on you.

The stage lights came on, you strummed your guitar and started to sing.

The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit, I had a coughing fit.

You let the lyrics you poured your heart into spill out across the stage. Still, somehow - in the crowd of hundreds of faces - you spotted Bucky.

This time, it didn’t make your heart clench. Didn’t make you shed a tear or run away.

No. This time, it empowered you. Let him hear the lyrics he inspired. Let him feel that pain of your words and feel the hole in your heart where he had broken it. Where you were now healing.

Bucky watched as you sang, and you were mesmerizing. He could feel the echoes of hurt in your words, the hole in your heart he had put there. He knew, despite the last time he saw you, that there was no making up. There was no fixing what was well beyond broken. No chance for him.

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

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buckys-wintersoldier · 19 hours

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His Angel | Bucky Barnes

Co-Written with @imtryingbuck

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 -> Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Angel!Female!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Experiment for Hydra but his Angel for Bucky.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (T) mention of violence and guns, panic attack, fluff

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 883

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 -> ignore if recs are closed :3 maybe angel!reader helping bucky thru a panic attack? like he thinks when he dies hes gonna suffer in hell for the stuff the winter soldier did and we calm him down and help him? u can add smut if u want but u dont have to !! @dethspllz

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you for the request. Since @bucks-babe got the same request it’s linked here “My guardian, my angel, my love” which is such a wonderful oneshot and highly recommend!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

An Angel.

An Angel they called you, it wasn’t necessary for the wings that were attached to your back but because you had the ability to calm everything including the deadliest of storms just by your presence. You were the sweetest and most softest person they had ever met.

For three years you had been a member of the team after they had found you trapped in a high ceiling cell. You heard the gun fire and grew scared, extending your wings you flew up in hopes the vibranium chain would finally break apart and you would be able to grab ahold of the metal bars on the ceiling. For several years you had been trapped, used and abused by the members of Hydra they had put you in a cell with a hole in the ceiling, tormenting you with your freedom right there, just out of reach. The more you flapped your wings sheer desperation and fear the floor began being covered in white soft feathers.

By the time they found you, you was backed in the corner with your knees pulled up to your chest and your nearly bare wings around your shaking frame. They were shocked by the amount of feathers littering the floor. The way your voice shook when you begged them not to hurt you had their hearts aching.

From the moment they freed you from the chains you became apart of their family.

Natasha noticed you no longer hid your wings from anyone - had been to scared to show them to anyone that wasn’t your family - they were always out and you were now free from the pain in your back from keeping them in all the time.

Sam noticed how much your smile would take up your whole entire face when he asked you if you wanted to fly with him. Both of you taking off into the air, your eyes bright, your laughter filling the sky as you both flew around.

Steve noticed how your wings would get fluffier in the winter and in the summer there would be trail of feathers wherever you went.

Wanda noticed the way your wings would flutter whenever a certain brunette super soldier was around. She had asked you if you had feelings for Bucky, quickly dropping the subject when she saw the tears in your eyes and when your wings folded themselves inwards.

But it was Bucky that noticed the change in colour of your wings. “Doll…”

“Yes?”

“You’re… they… wow” you frowned at him, looking at them feeling completely confused about his reaction. It wasn’t the first time he had seen them so you had no idea why he was reacting the way he was.

“Wh-what’s wrong with them?”

“They’re turning gold…”

You turned around, and your mouth dropped open when you saw the slight gold glittering on your wings. It looked gorgeous, the way the feathers were glistening in the light of the sun. Bucky looked just as impressed as you did. He took a step closer, reaching out his hand to slide his fingers with a soft, smooth movement over the feathers of your wings.

“It looks pretty; I mean, you never looked pretty,” Bucky stuttered and smirked softly.

Your wings never changed color, but with every movement of Bucky’s fingers over the feathers and his other hand, which was touching your arm slightly, they changed even more into the gold glitter.

“T—Thank you. It never changed the colors before,” you said, turning to face Bucky.

He smirked at you, feeling goosebumps underneath his fingers. Bucky caressed your skin softly, admiring the gold in your wings.

“Doll, I—I love you,” he mumbled, looking into your eyes. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

You lifted your arms, wrapping them around his neck to pull him closer. Your lips were only inches away from yours, and you could feel his breath on them, smiling softly.

“I love you too, Bucky.”

He smiled, then his expression turned serious again, and his body started to tremble. Bucky let himself fall down on the bed behind him, his hands running through his soft brown hair when he looked at you. You were walking closer, kneeling in front of him, your arms resting on his thighs while your hands grasped his hands and you stroked his soft skin slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re so beautiful, and you love me. B—But you shouldn’t. I don’t deserve your love,” he said, tears building in his eyes and falling down his cheeks.

“Buck, don’t say that. You deserve so much love. The winter soldier did things that weren’t the greatest, but you— you're Bucky, a wonderful man who is sometimes a bit confused,” you said, giggling softly.

Bucky’s heart warmed when you said that and when your sweet laugh echoed through the room. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, when he suddenly felt your soft wings around him. With a soft grin on his lips, he opened his eyes, looking directly into yours, and leaned closer to kiss you gently.

There he was — home with you. Your closeness, your touches, and your skin always feel like home, and when you laugh or talk, he is sure there is nothing that could sound better than that. You’re his pretty doll.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @lives-in-midgard @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel

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generation-small-somebody-cong · 17 hours

Text

#helltaker #jake #mopar #tyler joseph #lalovetheboss #mac demarco #jack white #fashion model #teen wolf #goodtimeswithscar #直播 #bucky x you

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rich-civil-finally-artist · 2 days

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https://jill-156.mjcyd.asia/x/TIvN7fQ

#fashion model #doge #teen wolf #mario #goodtimeswithscar #heather graham #直播 #huge azz #bucky x you #toy story #the dragon prince #coraline #tears of themis #the legend of zelda

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remember-pressure · 2 days

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#jake #mxtx #tyler joseph #lalovetheboss #mac demarco #lensblr #jack white #asia #teen wolf #goodtimeswithscar #直播 #bucky x you

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deliciousangelfestival · 33 minutes

Text

Unexpected Trip

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: Some people think you're too good for Bucky, who they see as just a nobody. Little do they know the backstory of both of you from 5 years ago.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you!" The cheery chorus filled the sunny garden as friends and neighbors gathered around. Balloons bobbed in the breeze, and the table was adorned with a colorful array of treats.

Your son, Tommy, was wide-eyed with wonder at the commotion, his little hands clapping together with glee.

You knew he was too young to remember this day, but the joy on his face was enough to make every moment worthwhile.

Bucky, your husband, stood beside you, a proud smile on his face as he watched Tommy's excitement. "Can you believe he's already three?" you said, leaning over to Bucky, who nodded, his eyes never leaving Tommy.

"I know, it feels like just yesterday we were bringing him home from the hospital," Bucky replied, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "Time really does fly."

As Tommy blew out the candles on his cake, the guests cheered, and Bucky wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "I'm so glad we decided to have this party," he said, planting a kiss on your cheek. "Even if he won't remember it, we will."

You smiled, feeling grateful for this moment of togetherness. "Me too," you said, watching Tommy's delighted face. "Here's to many more birthdays filled with love and laughter."

As you, Bucky, and Tommy were lost in your own world of celebration, the neighbors, known gossips of the neighborhood, couldn't resist whispering among themselves.

"I heard she got promoted to become the Director," murmured Mrs. Jenkins, a woman known for her keen interest in everyone's business, her eyes darting over to where you and Bucky stood.

Mrs. Thompson, a perpetually nosy neighbor, chimed in eagerly, "Wow, I knew she's a career woman since the first time I met her." Her voice carried a tone of admiration mixed with a hint of envy.

Standing nearby, Mr. Wilson, a retired gentleman with a penchant for spreading juicy tidbits, leaned in conspiratorially. "And she has a perfect house-husband," he added with a knowing nod in Bucky's direction.

The fourth neighbor, Mrs. Patel, a woman with a sharp tongue and a love for scandal, couldn't resist joining the conversation. "I don't want to sound rude, but she's too good for Bucky. He's just a nobody," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Mrs. Jenkins leaned closer, her eyes widening with exaggerated shock. "And guess what?" she whispered, drawing the others in.

"What?" Mrs. Thompson asked eagerly, her curiosity piqued.

"I heard a rumor that Bucky used to be a driver, like a courier," Mrs. Jenkins revealed,l.

Mrs. Patel gasped dramatically, her hand flying to her chest. "Omg! And he met Y/N? He hit the jackpot!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening as if she had just uncovered a scandalous secret.

Mr. Wilson chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "I think in Bucky's previous life he saved a universe," he joked, adding to the whimsical nature of the gossip.

Meanwhile, you and Bucky remained oblivious to the whispers behind you, too engrossed in Tommy's joyous laughter as he played with his friends. Bucky had his arm around you, pulling you closer, unaware of the drama unfolding in the background.

Little did the gossiping neighbors know, they were 10% right, at least when it came to the part about Bucky saving someone.

You see, Bucky wasn't just a nobody. He wasn't just a regular driver. To be precise, it all goes back to five years ago.

5 Years Ago

You had just arrived in Russia, alone and shivering from the cold. This wasn't a holiday trip; it was for business.

Unfortunately, your luck had run out, and you were the chosen one sent by your less-than-friendly manager, who knew the bid was a long shot. You were the scapegoat.

It wasn't until you were on the plane, reading the documents, that the truth hit you like a ton of bricks.

Shaking with cold, you reached for your phone and dialed your colleague. "Is there someone to pick me up at the airport?"

"You've arrived? I almost forgot. I suppose someone should be waiting for you. Check to see if there's a sign with your name at the exit gate," came the reply before the call abruptly ended.

"Huh?" You couldn't believe it. The company had tossed you out like yesterday's news, leaving you stranded like a lost child in a foreign country.

"I swear, if I had a lot of money, I'd buy the company's shares and fire every single one of them," you grumbled to yourself, dragging your small suitcase behind you toward the exit gate, uncertain of what awaited you.

As you approached, you spotted a person holding a sign. You gathered your resolve and approached them, saying, "Hi, it's me."

You finally took a good look at the person holding your name sign. He was pretty tall and muscular for a driver, more suited to be a bodyguard.

With a swift motion, he crumpled the paper and tossed it into a nearby trash can. When you finally caught a glimpse of his face, you couldn't help but think, "Damn, he's fine."

He pointed towards your suitcase. "Is that all?" he asked, his voice firm but not unkind.

"Huh? Oh yeah," you replied, momentarily distracted by his good looks.

"Follow me," he said simply, then turned and walked ahead.

You hurried to catch up, feeling a mixture of confusion and intrigue. This wasn't the welcome you expected, but you followed him nonetheless.

After a quick walk, the two of you stopped in front of a black BMW. The design of the car felt straight out of the '90s.

"Get in," Bucky said, opening the backseat door.

You complied, noticing that your driver seemed to be a man of few words. "Um, what's your name?" you asked as you fastened your seatbelt.

"Bucky. Bucky Barnes," he replied, his eyes scanning the surroundings as he started the car.

Then, glancing at the rearview mirror, he added, "Always watch your back."

"What? What do you mean?" you asked, a hint of unease creeping into your voice.

Bucky shifted gears and increased the speed. "Just in case," he said cryptically, his focus on the road ahead.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of mystery surrounding Bucky. As the car smoothly glided through the streets of Russia, you couldn't help but wonder what kind of business you had genuinely stepped into.

Bucky glanced at you through the rearview mirror as the car continued its swift journey through the city. "You came here without knowing anything?" he asked, his voice serious.

"I knew that other countries also put a bid on this project," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the growing unease.

"True," Bucky acknowledged. "Do you know what kind of representatives the other countries sent here too?"

Your voice turned into a whisper, barely audible over the hum of the engine. "Not like me?"

Bucky's eyes flicked to the side mirror, noticing a few cars trailing behind them. " And they've arrived too," he confirmed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly.

Feeling a surge of panic, you turned around to look out the rear window. "Oh, shit," you muttered under your breath.

There was a group of cars following behind you both, and their windows opened. Someone appeared with a gun pointed at your car.

Bucky shifted gears again, the car picking up speed. "Don't bite your tongue, Miss Y/N," he said calmly, his focus unwavering on the road ahead.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you realized the gravity of the situation. The cars following them meant trouble; you were right in the middle. Gripping the door handle tightly, you braced for whatever was to come, grateful that Bucky knew what he was doing.

The chase was like something out of a movie, but the fear gripping your heart was all too real. The car Bucky drove was bulletproof, a small comfort in the chaos unfolding around you.

"KYAAA!"

Yet, despite the safety of the car, you couldn't shake off the primal fear that clawed at your chest. This was the first time you had ever found yourself in such a dangerous situation, and the adrenaline surged through your veins.

"Oh god, oh god," you muttered, your voice filled with panic as you clutched onto the door handle, your knuckles turning white.

Bucky, on the other hand, remained surprisingly calm. His hands moved expertly over the steering wheel, navigating through the narrow streets with precision. "Hold on tight," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos outside.

You could hear the sound of gunfire, bullets ricocheting off the car's armored exterior. The world outside seemed to blur as Bucky weaved in and out of traffic, the pursuing cars hot on your tail.

"What do we do? What do we do?" you pleaded, your heart pounding in your chest.

Bucky glanced at you briefly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Trust me," he said cryptically, before reaching for a button on the dashboard.

With a click, the back of the car transformed. Panels shifted, revealing an array of weapons hidden within. Your eyes widened in disbelief as a gun turret emerged from the rear of the car, whirring to life.

"Oh my god!" you exclaimed, both terrified and amazed at the same time.

Bucky didn't hesitate. He maneuvered the car expertly, aligning the gun turret with the pursuing vehicles. With a press of a button, the turret unleashed a barrage of bullets, hitting the cars behind you with precision.

The sound of metal tearing and tires screeching filled the air as the pursuing vehicles swerved and crashed, their drivers no match for the firepower of Bucky's car.

You watched in awe and horror as the scene unfolded behind you, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. "I can't believe this," you whispered, your eyes wide with disbelief.

Bucky remained focused, his eyes scanning the road ahead. "Welcome to the world of high-stakes business, Miss Y/N," he said, his voice calm despite the chaos around you.

As you both sped away from the gunfire, the intensity of the moment left you breathless. The adrenaline coursing through your veins made you wonder how Bucky could remain so calm, and how his car seemed to be designed for situations like this.

"Bucky, are you really just a driver?" you asked, your voice filled with astonishment and curiosity.

Bucky, focused on the road ahead, replied without missing a beat. "Most of the time I work as a getaway driver."

"What?!" you exclaimed, unable to hide your surprise.

Bucky glanced at you briefly, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I have a few skills up my sleeve," he said cryptically, his eyes returning to the road as he expertly navigated the streets.

You panted heavily, trying to catch your breath after the intense chase. "Huff... huff... I have to win this damn bid. I almost lost my life. If I win, I will demand a promotion, and for you too, Bucky."

Bucky chuckled. "Thank you," he replied, his laughter mixing with relief as the moment's tension dissipated

Bucky glanced at you, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. "You know, Miss Y/N, I'm impressed," he said, his voice tinged with respect.

You looked at him, surprised by his words. "Impressed? Why?"

"Because even though you were scared out of your mind back there," Bucky explained, gesturing vaguely to the chaos that had just unfolded, "you still have the drive to win this bid. That takes courage."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, touched by his words. "Well, I don't want to go through all of this for nothing," you replied, a hint of determination in your voice.

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. "I understand. And I believe you have what it takes to succeed."

As the car continued on its journey, you felt a newfound sense of confidence swelling within you. Despite the danger and the unexpected twists, you were determined to make this business trip count. With Bucky by your side, you felt like you could take on anything that came your way.

"Thank you, Bucky," you said, gratitude evident in your voice.

He smiled, a reassuring presence beside you. "Anytime, Miss Y/N. We make a good team."

And at that moment, as the city lights blurred past the windows of the car, you knew that this business trip would be far more than just a bid. It would be an adventure, with Bucky as your unexpected ally.

🚗

After you won the bid, you demanded a meeting with the CEO and threatened to sue the company if you weren't promoted.

Asserting your worth, you stood firm, and the CEO eventually relented, granting you the promotion you rightfully deserved.

As you stood in the office, your evil manager and colleague before you, the air was charged with tension. They both wore expressions of surprise and disbelief, clearly caught off guard by your sudden assertiveness.

"Good afternoon," you began, your voice steady and firm. "I requested this meeting to inform you both that your employment with this company is terminated, effective immediately."

The evil manager scoffed, a hint of arrogance in his voice. "You can't do that. You're just a new employee."

You met his gaze, unwavering. "Actually, as of today, I've been promoted to a position where I have the authority to make such decisions."

The lazy colleague chimed in, who answered your call at the airport. Her voice laced with disdain. "This is ridiculous. You're letting power go to your head."

You shook your head, a steely resolve in your eyes. "No, this is about accountability and integrity. Both of you have demonstrated a lack of professionalism and ethics that is unacceptable in this company. And you make me go alone knowing that the trips was a high risk."

The evil manager tried to argue, but you held up a hand to silence him. "There's no need for further discussion. Your actions have consequences, and now you're facing them."

With that, you handed them their termination letters, each neatly printed with the company seal. The evil manager's face turned red with anger, while the evil colleague's eyes widened in shock.

"This is unfair!" the evil manager shouted, his voice filled with outrage.

You remained calm, unfazed by his outburst. "It's the consequences of your own actions," you replied firmly.

Othrr colleague tried to plead for another chance, but you stood your ground. "I'm sorry, but this is non-negotiable," you said, your tone resolute.

As they gathered their things and left the office, the weight of their absence felt like a burden lifted from their shoulders. You watched them go, feeling a sense of relief and empowerment.

🚗

One day, the memories of Russia tugged at your heartstrings, and you found yourself longing to return, this time for a personal visit to see Bucky. With determination, you booked a flight and arrived at his apartment.

Bucky greeted you warmly, a smile spreading across his face. "Miss Y/N," he said with genuine happiness.

"Bucky," you replied, matching his smile. "I couldn't resist coming back to see you."

You smiled, feeling a rush of excitement and nervousness. "I wanted to thank you," you began, gratitude filling your voice. "For everything. You were there for me in Russia, and I couldn't have done it without you."

Bucky's expression softened, his eyes reflecting genuine warmth. "It was my pleasure. You showed courage and determination. I was just glad to be a part of it."

"I wanted to ask," you continued, gathering your courage, "if you would consider coming with me. With my promotion, I have the opportunity to lead new projects, and I can think of no one better to have by my side."

Bucky's eyes widened in surprise, clearly caught off guard by your offer. After a moment of contemplation, a smile slowly spread across his face. "I would be honored," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I believe we make a good team."

Bucky smiled warmly, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he grabbed his car keys and jacket. "To celebrate, let me pay for tonight's dinner. My treat," he said, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.

You couldn't help but feel gratitude and happiness at his offer. "That sounds wonderful." you replied, a smile spreading across your face.

That's how the love story between you and Bucky started.

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flowerwood122 · 20 hours

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He's watching you being cute.

You had insisted on going and doing something fun, he can't say no to you, so of course you guys go to a carnival. You tell him that he can sit back and just watch because you know your old cranky man so well and he doesn't really like to do anything, but he will do it for you.

He's sitting back watching you as you try and win the biggest prize from one of the booths, and when you get denied it for the fifth time, you just leave. You're bummed but you just figure that today is just not your day. You tell Bucky that you're going to go and get something to eat, and he insists on staying where he was. When you returned, he had the biggest prize sat on his lap.

he literally destroyed the game (mostly on accident, but he didn't feel bad about it because they were literally scamming people and children)

#bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #pietro maximoff x reader #bucky fanfic #captain america #marvel #captain marvel #incredible hulk #she hulk

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delicatebarness · 2 days

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i think he knows | chapter nine

Summary: As the sneaking continues, some secrets are revealed.

Warnings: Two perspectives are used. A few uses of Y/N. A lot of dialogue between multiple characters. Mentions/Implied Underage Sex. Our girlie is sad again.

Word Count: 1498

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A/N: I wrote this chapter while sitting in a van watching big sweaty men run around with guns (all I pictured all day was winter soldier) 🤤 I edited once I got home and had calmed myself down. 🙈

Bucky's words hung in the air, it prompted a sense of anticipation. You nodded as meeting his gaze, both curiosity and concern rushed through you.

"What is it?" you asked softly, as the gravity of his tone set in.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out to take your hand in his. "I know this isn't ideal," he started, looking down at your hand rather than into your eyes he began to rub circles against your skin.

"Us, um, sneaking around, keeping this hidden." You listened intently, trying to ignore the knot forming in your stomach.

"But," he continued, his gaze found its way back to yours. "I also know that being with you is worth it." His vulnerability took you by surprise, warming your heart. "I want to make this work."

With a small smile, you squeezed his hand, silently giving him the reassurance he needed to tell you what was on his mind.

"What are we doing here?" Peter asked while looking up at the 'Stark's Motor's' sign above the rundown car and bike garage. "You know this is Tony Stark's family's business right? Tony Stark as in Bucky Barnes' friend?" Wanda had been curious about the tension between the two groups of friends, she sensed that it was deeper than simply, different personalities.

"Can I help you with something?" Tony asked as he looked Peter and Wanda up and down. They seemed familiar to him but he couldn't quite place them. Wanda looked around Tony, noticing the rest of the group gathered on sofas behind him.

Just as she expected, Bucky Barnes, for being the so-called 'leader' of the group, wasn't to be seen.

"We know about the bets," Wanda stated, gaining the attention of the whole group. The smirks that found their way to their faces proved to Wanda and Peter that the rumors were true. Concern for their friend became evident between them.

"What bets?" Natasha Romanoff questioned them, her tone guarded.

"When you bet each other on how far you can get with someone," Peter interjected before Wanda could, his voice rushed.

"What about them? You want in or something?" Loki, Peter recognized as the younger brother of Thor, questioned with a mischievous smile. He noticed that he was the only one of the gang who would ever show their face to the game.

"No," Wanda began to make her way around the service counter, moving closer to the group of friends. "We want you to tell us what our friend did to deserve being a part of your games," she demanded, standing her ground.

Natasha rolled her eyes before standing up, closing the distance between herself and Wanda in an attempt to intimidate her. "Who's your friend?" she asked curiously while crossing her arms over her chest.

"Y/N Rogers," Peter answered for Wanda, she was intensely looking up at Natasha with furrowed brows. "Steve Rogers' little sister." A silence surrounded the garage at the mention of Rogers.

"She's been on the off-limits list for, what, two years now?" Peter Quill spoke up while looking around the group of his friends. The worst 'bad boy' in the group had, barely got into any trouble, and wasn't mischievous; he just liked to tell jokes and wear a red leather jacket.

"What's the off-limits list?" They asked Quill simultaneously, snapping their heads in his direction. Catching the moment Stark punched him in the arm, he had said too much.

Sighing, Natasha seemingly began to relax more around the other students, going back to where she had previously been sitting. “The list of people we, under no circumstances, are allowed to bet on,” she explained, her voice still hinting at the annoyance the pair was causing. “She’s been on that list since her first day of freshman year?” she continued, looking around at her friends to confirm the amount of time. They all nodded in agreement.

“Too bad the same couldn’t have been said for her brother,” a sense of amusement in Stark’s voice as he spoke under his breath.

“Oh yeah, Natasha lost Buck some real cash on that one.” Quill laughed before taking a drink from the bottle he’d been nursing since Wanda and Peter arrived.

Wanda and Peter shot each other a glance, a silent conversation of understanding happening between them. As they exchanged the silent vow to uncover more, they turned about to the group, knowing they were diving into dangerous waters. Bucky and his friends were the most feared pack in the school, only Steve and his friends weren’t worried about getting on their bad side. Even then, a few of them still watched their backs.

“We need to know everything,” Wanda exclaimed, causing the group to bring their attention back to the younger peers.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, but there was a slight hint of respect for the girl. “You two don’t know when to quit, do you?” she muttered under her breath. Ignoring Natasha’s remark, the two friends stood their ground. Not moving until someone talked.

Bucky hesitated for a moment, struggling to find the right words. Taking a deep breath, his heart pounded. “Back in freshman year, I… I made a bet with Natasha,” he admitted.

Your brow furrowed with confusion, “What kind of bet?” You asked, voice trembling slightly, you felt like you already knew the answer. Hearing it aloud, you feared it would make it real.

His gaze dropped from yours as he swallowed hard, “I bet that she couldn’t sleep with Steve,” he confessed, your hand dropped from him as your body went into a state of shock. Your mind went back to the night before, how he reassured you that you weren’t a part of it. You remember now that he never denied the fact that they do make bets. “I didn’t think she would do it, Y/N,” he looked up, his eyes filled with remorse as he called you by your name rather than his nickname for you.

“Why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over your heart pounding. “If you didn’t think she would, why did you?”

“We were freshmen, we were just having fun,” he sighed, trying to defend himself and the friends he saw as family. “He was an easy target back, a try-hard, it was supposed to be a joke,” he ran a hand through his hair, as he rushed his words.

The weight of his confession sank into your bones. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Disbelief surged through you, you couldn’t process everything at once. His reasoning only added to the turmoil swirling inside.

There was a silence settling between you, your breathing and the background noise for the diner was the only sound. The image of Steve, oblivious to the wager placed on him, added another layer of hurt.

You finally found your voice, it trembled as you held back tears. Not only were you hurting for your brother but, you couldn’t help shake the feeling that Bucky was lying about you. “How could you?” you questioned.

“I know I messed up,” Bucky’s voice softened, his hand reaching out as if to bridge the growing distance. “I mean, it’s most likely the main reason he wants me nowhere near you,” his words trailed off, and you turned away.

You looked everywhere but in Bucky’s direction, afraid of the tears threatening to spill. “I’m guessing she then discarded him like he never mattered?” you asked, recounting the warning Steve had given you about Bucky and his friends.

Another sigh from Bucky. “After everything, Steve caught feelings for her but it was just a game to her so she ignored him and has since,” he explained as he played with the straw in his milkshake glass. “It wasn’t until a couple of months later that he found out it was a bet, a bet that I started,” he began mumbling to himself about wishing he had a smoke or a drink before continuing. “We’ve never been okay since, which I understand on some level, but, he came out stronger I guess,” the confused look behind your teary eyes made his heart clench. “That was when he suddenly gained muscle and became the star athlete he is today.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, you struggled to hear it yourself as you tried to find the words.

Bucky nodded, he understood that telling you would have been painful. He saw the amount of compassion and empathy you carried in your heart, he knew it was risky for him to tell you the truth. He wished he could tell you, we fought once over nothing but stupid boy stuff, but, he couldn’t.

“I understand,” he replied softly, his head dropped landing his gaze on the table between you. “I’m sorry I hurt you, and Steve. I just, I don’t want there to be secrets between us as well.” Even though your heart ached for your brother and Bucky’s confession, you offered him a small nod.

- - -

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