#wilson fucking knows he bets knowing and still makes that face
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#house md#james wilson#chi park#gregory house#hilson#screencap#s08e04 “Risky Business”#long post#longpost#good on her for immediately going to wilson#UR HONOUR#wilson knew what exactly house values more than honor#HIM#(ur honour ure still cute but this isnt abt u sorry)#wilson fucking knows he bets knowing and still makes that face#he truly is devious#hes not shocked that hes valued more hes shocked house is admitting it
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Weekly Recap | April 1st-7th 2024
MERRY WEEWOO EPISODE DAY!!! I had a fucking terrible stream so I feel like I missed like 90% of buddie's scenes.
No thoughts, head empty, so happy to FINALLY be done with this long ass recap 😆 my ao3 history is very much still fucked. Oh well. Also gonna have to make a separate post for the podfics cause the rec was getting too long, tumblr couldn't handle it 😂
There's a couple of new people in here and maybe some people who have changed URLs, so if you know someone who's not tagged, please tag them in the comments!
Love your tags, comments, reblogs, everything! <3 My ao3 inbox is being SUBMERGED with fics, it's the best problem to have 😂
Complete
I can finally breathe by wikiangela/ @wikiangela (S7E4 Coda, BuckTommy | <1K | General); Buck's oh moment when Tommy kisses him.
and with each one, i'm a little more free series by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (Post-S7E4, Coming Out):
oh, bi the way (<1K | General): Buck comes out to Maddie.
whenever you're ready (<1K | General): Buck comes out to Bobby.
welcome to the club (<1K | General): Buck comes out to Hen.
rebirth by renecdote/ @renecdote (S7E4 Coda | <1K | General): “Bisexual,” he says aloud, just to hear himself say it, to taste the way it feels on his tongue not just as a word but as an identity. It feels like an exhalation, trembling at the edges but not just with fear, or excitement, but with relief. Buck knows what it is like to be reborn, but he has never had a kiss make him feel like this before.
whenever you're ready by honestlydarkprincess (Post S7E4 Spec, Coming Out | <1K | General): Buck comes out to Bobby.
I won't tell no lie by lamardeuse/ @lamardeuse (Post S7E4 Spec, Tommy POV | 1K | Teen): Tommy can't exactly say he's surprised when he opens his door on a Sunday morning to see Hen Wilson standing there. He just wishes he'd thought to put on a cup first because he has a feeling he's about to get kicked in the nuts.
An End Has a Start by eirabach/ @eirabach (S7E4 Coda, Tommy POV, Tommy&Lucy | 1K | Teen): Tommy is one minute late. Hell of a minute, though.
tell me that i'm all you want (even when i break your heart) by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (S7E4 Coda | 1K | General): “What’s going on?” “You tell me,” Eddie says, gently. “Buck mentioned you were being a little…odd.” To his surprise, Chris scowls. “I bet he did,” Chris mumbles, scoffing, half-under his breath. Eddie stares at him, taken aback. “Chris? What does that—” “I want you to tell him to leave.” or; buck, christopher and eddie in the aftermath of 7x04.
Sleepy Call by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Pre-Buddie, Fluff | 1K | General): OR: Eddie takes an early morning call.
to loosen his grip by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (S7E4 Spec | 1K | Teen): Eddie's not stupid, and Buck's about as subtle as a brick to the face on a good day. Speculation for 7x04: Buck, Bothered and Bewildered.
babbling brook to nowhere by fallingthorns/ @fallingthorns (S7E5 Spec | 1K | Teen): Eddie has not stopped talking since they left the restaurant. He thinks that he kind of blacked out during the actual dinner, because he’s not really sure what actually was discussed or how they even ended up sitting next to Buck and Tommy. But as soon as they got back into the truck, it was like the dam breaking loose. “I mean, it’s so great,” Eddie says once they’re back in his bedroom, as he takes his shirt off in the closet. He’s not even paying attention as Marisol perches on the edge of his bed. “They’re two of my friends, it’s awesome.” He’s happy for Buck, because Buck deserves to be with someone who gets him and will love him like he deserves. He just . . . “Is Tommy too tall for him?” Eddie asks. “Like, they’re the same height.”
my heart is working overtime by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (S7E4 Coda | 1K | Teen): He reaches for his phone again, then freezes halfway through his contacts when he realises he can’t call anyone to talk through this. Maddie would kill him for telling her something like this over the phone. For—coming out, he supposes, trying the words on for size. That’s something he does now. As— He hadn’t really stopped to consider it until now. Bisexual, he thinks, experimental, and it settles somewhere deep inside of him, like there’s been a space waiting for it all along.
“Pops, I’m bisexual.” “Hi bisexual, I’m Pops.” by Maximoff_Wanda (Post-S7E4, Coming Out | 1,4K | Not Rated): Or: Buck comes out to Bobby.
every little thing the sun shows, well it’s worth it by wafflesofdoom/ @capseycartwright (Post S7E4 | 1,6K | Not Rated): after his kiss with Tommy, Buck goes to Hen.
pythagoras made some points by crimsonclad (S7E4, BuckTommy | 1,6K | Not Rated): Look for the helpers! Sometimes they are all trying very hard to help each other be gay in the correct configurations and doing their best, mostly. Tommy takes Eddie to Urgent Care, takes him home, and carries a message elsewhere in the city of Los Angeles.
Buck's Boyfriends by Tizniz (Buck/Tommy/Eddie | 1,7K | Teen): He’s too drunk to figure out the logistics right now. “I think I’ve been dating both of you.” OR: The one where Buck realizes he's dating Tommy and Eddie.
smile at me like you smile at him by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (S7E4 Spec, Getting Together | 1,8K | Teen): Buck hadn’t planned on doing anything to show his displeasure at the sudden friendship between Eddie and Tommy, despite the fact that it sent hot, furious jealousy coursing through his veins. Really, he hadn’t. It’s just…well, he was just going for the ball during their basketball game…unfortunately Eddie happened to get pushed out of the way in order for Buck to get said ball.
only need the light when it's burning low by fallingthorns (Post-S7E4 | 2K | Teen): Buck blinks and realizes that he could love Tommy, if he didn't already love Eddie.
you've ruined my life (by not being mine) by ummrys (S7E4 Spec | 2K | Teen): Or, Buck gets a little (a lot) jealous of Eddie's blossoming friendship with Tommy Kinard, and makes some bad decisions about it.
detours by oklahoma/ @sunshinediaz (Post-S7E4, 2K | Teen): “Take a detour,” he says, instead. “There’s construction on Sunset.” “Maybe one of these days there won’t be,” Buck says, smiles, and takes his leave. - Eddie and Buck have a talk. They somehow say everything and nothing at all.
Every Night I Come to You by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (S5, Love Confessions | 2K | General): Eddie has another sleepless night, but Buck is there. He'll always be there.
Family Feud: First Responders by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Secret Relationship | 3K | General): The FireFam go on Family Feud.
Right In Front of Me by Princessfbi (S7E5 Spec, BuckTommy | 3K | General): Tommy’s brows knitted together as his mouth turned down with worry. “Evan,” he said and Buck wanted to hear him call his name so many more times. “What happened? Did someone choke you?” “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Buck said, clearing his throat again when his voice gave an embarrassing squeak.
inescapable (i’m not even gonna try) by buddiebuddie/ @buddie-buddie (BuckTommy, PWP, Post-S7E4 | 3K | Explicit): From that first press of Tommy’s lips against his— the moment when the pieces slid into place and something bloomed in Buck’s chest and hummed in his veins— he felt good, and grounded, and settled in a way he never had before. It’s been a few weeks, and the newness has worn off but the excitement hasn’t. The hunger hasn’t.
I would be lying if I said I'm not dying to worship you by Daughter_of_Scotland (Post-S7E4 | 3K | Explicit): Buck and Tommy have their first date. This is how it ends. (It ends really, REALLY well)
somethin' tells me you know why i lie by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Madney Wedding Spec, BuckTommy | 3K | Teen): OR: buck brings tommy to the madney wedding. eddie is absolutely, definitively not jealous.
Never Saw It Coming...Or Did He? by Tizniz (PWP, Daddy/Mommy Kink | 3K | Explicit): Unable to deny his boyfriend anything, Eddie does. And his jaw promptly falls to the floor. Because Buck is standing there with that goddamn basketball under his shirt again. The clothing is stretched tightly over the round of what Eddie’s mind pretends is Buck’s belly. Pregnant belly. OR: The one where Eddie is 'Daddy' and Buck is 'Mommy'
sunbeam that hits at three to noon by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Madney Wedding, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): or, having multiple wedding reservations under the same name was an accident waiting to happen and buck’s just trying not to jumpscare his best friend with the rather intense bridal suite decor in their very platonically shared hotel room
as lucky as us by hammersmiths/ @bucktommys (S7E4, Ravi POV | 3K | General): One of the first things Ravi learned when joining the 118 was to, under no circumstances, think too hard about Buck and Eddie’s relationship. But brother, they could try make his job easier.
soothe the ache in me by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (S7E4 Spec | 3K | Teen): Or, the one where Buck gets a headache while trying to take care of Eddie and Chris after Eddie's injury.
i'm a fine baby mama (but you knew that though) by colonoscopys (S7E4 | 4K | Teen): Look—Buck’s not jealous, per say. He’s just a little confused as to how you can spend the past five years being best friends with someone, and then find someone new to replace him in the span of a couple of playdates.
You’re too Sweet For Me by Garden_Haunter (Buck Coming Out, Post S7E4 | 4K | Teen): Tommy kisses Buck, and it tastes like freedom. (Or: Buck comes out to different members of his family.)
Nightcap by Inell (S7E5 Spec, PWP | 4K | Explicit): After their first date goes a bit astray, Buck invites Tommy to his loft for a nightcap.
some things fall when they're meant to fall by sibylsleaves/ @sibylsleaves (S7E5 Spec | 4K | Teen): or, Buck tells Eddie some news. Eddie has a realization and breaks up with his girlfriend. Not necessarily in that order.
before you painted all my nights by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Canon Divergent, Getting Together | 5K | Explicit): In hindsight, maybe jerking off to a LAFD Calendar when Eddie was well on his way to become a firefighter himself… might not have been the best idea. He never really thought about the possibility of actually crossing paths with the person that's been starring every wildest dream and filthy fantasy of his.
’til storm breaks loose by markofalover/ @markofalover (S7E4 Spec | 6K | Explicit): He squeezes Buck’s bare, sun warmed skin before he drops the contact, and strolls over to where Chim and Tommy are waiting. If he stands a little too close to his teammate, well. He’ll never admit it. Buck comes back into his line of vision, already back to looking like he’s a second away from stomping off the court. Eddie’s giddy with it. …or, how an elbow to the face changes everything.
the art of making love. by dylaesthetics (Rommates, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): OR Buck’s loft gets flooded, making him temporarily move in with Eddie, who’s out and about dating guys now, apparently, and Buck tries to figure out why the hell the thought makes him sick.
no more mistakes, no more empty starts. by dylaesthetics (S7E5 Spec, Feelings Realization | 7K | Teen): Throughout his life, Buck has felt that something’s been missing. Some integral part of who he is, outside firefighting, outside the family he has built for himself, outside the trauma that keeps on piling up and overburdening his shelves. He doesn’t expect to find it in the dimness of his loft’s kitchen one Tuesday evening, the taste of a man still on his lips and his cologne lingering in the air, sweet and honest and real.
ain't no lie (bi bi bi) by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (S7E4 Spec, Eddie/Tommy | 8K | Explicit): Eddie fools around with Tommy, Buck is jealous, Tommy's just trying to have a good time
skin/heat/hair in your mouth by fleetinghearts (Getting Together | 8K | Explicit): or, eddie’s bad at camping, buck’s trying to make sure he doesn’t get hypothermia, and naked huddling for warmth is only like the third gayest thing happening in the great outdoors
now our love lives in the radio by heartbeatdiaz / @loserdiaz (University AU | 9K | Explicit): buck is the host of a college radio show and eddie has a big fat crush on him, what else can i say?
featuring cinderella references and a bunch of himbos from buck's football team.
teach me how to dance with you by goodboybuck (prettyboybuckley)/ @prettyboybuckley (BuckTommy, PWP | 9K | Explicit): OR: Buck explores the wonders of gay sex (slowly, with a really patient, sweet Tommy guiding the way and while having a lot of fun)
the mouth is the thing that craves by Underhung_Aura (Established Buddie, PWP | 11K | Explicit): eddie loves buck and he really love buck's cock
when i think about you (i touch myself) by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (PWP, Getting Together | 12K | Explicit): Or: the one where Eddie stumbles across Buck's old amateur porn, prompting a series of belated realizations on both their parts.
honey, when you call my name by HungryHungryHippo/ @hippolotamus (Post S5E11 | 12K |Explicit): Eddie witnesses the Buck/Lucy kiss, has himself a little panic, and decides to do something about it when Buck does his Buck thing and won't stop pushing Eddie's buttons
🔥 of men and of angels by extasiswings/ @extasiswings (Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 13K | Teen): Eddie Diaz learns a lot as a kid. Boys aren’t soft. Boys don’t cry. Boys don’t kiss boys. As he gets older, he realizes that everything has exceptions. Boys can be soft sometimes. Boys can cry sometimes. And some boys kiss other boys. But Eddie likes kissing girls. And since he likes kissing girls, that’s the end of the story. Isn’t it?
🔥 what humans do by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Getting Together, PWP | 18K | Explicit): "…and the thought that she had just escaped death by such a narrow margin made me realize the intensity of my feelings toward her.” Eddie swallows. “‘What’s the matter?’ I couldn’t tell her, so I kissed her instead,” Buck goes on, and since Eddie’s eyes are focused on the page, they drift ahead a little bit, and the next few lines have him swallowing once again, taking his hand back to brace himself against the mattress as he slowly starts to push himself up to sit. “Kissing is what humans do when words have reached a place they can’t escape from. It is a switch to another language. The kiss was an act of defiance, maybe of war. You can’t touch us, is what the kiss said. ‘I love you,’ I told her, and as I smelled her skin, I knew I had never wanted anyone or anything more than I wanted her…” Buck trails off when Eddie reaches for the book, gently luring it out of his grasp.
WIP
🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 6/18 | 37K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.
Both Bermuda and Golden (Lost but Doing Just Fine) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (PWP, Threesome, BuckTommyEddie | 4/6 | 20K | Explicit): In which everyone has two hands and two holes and is keeping their options fluid. (Or: a collection of threesome fics.)
Fifteen First Kisses by tinygiantsam/ @watchyourbuck (Getting Together | 2/15 | 3K | Mature): Why would you have only one first kiss when you could have fifteen This is a collection of 15 different first kisses between Buck and Eddie.
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Idk if youve done sid sfw and nsfw before but could you please? Id love to see what you’ll come up with!
YES!! Sid is super cute and I love him so much
Just wanted to add the extra pictures 😉
Summary: nsfw and sfw hcs for Sid Wilson
WARNING: smut, fluff
Sfw
-he’s a big baby, he will lay on your chest and nag for your attention
-he loves playing with your hair when you lay your head on his lap, he will braid it (he doesn’t know how to but he’s trying his best)
-he will flex his muscles to you all the time
-“hey babe, check these bad boys out” and pretend like he’s a professional body builder
-he’d be the type of mf to bite you, regardless of what the occasion is
-he won’t leave your ass alone (literally) he will smack is, he doesn’t care who’s watching
-he’s the funniest person to drink with, he’d be like “I bet you won’t dare me to drink this whole bottle” doesn’t matter what you say he will drink the whole thing
-but when he’s drunk; he’s all over you, he will accidentally hurt you but you know he never means to do it
-he’s a fun guy to be around, he always makes dirty jokes and does the most random shit
-he cared for you lots tho, if he accidentally hurts you when he’s not drunk he will never forgive himself, even if you keep reassuring him that you’re fine
-he loves to go on nature walks with you, he will pick a flower (dead or alive) an hand it to you like your royalty
-buys you everything, like you mentioned you wished you had a tea cup and the next day he bought you the nicest tea cup ever
-he’ll use you as a model for his masks when he has to come up with a new one
-he loves cuddling with you in bed after a long day in the studio, it helps him blow off steam
Nsfw
-he’s definitely into some kinky shit, like having you in a collar or calling you “my little pet”
-he loves foreplay, the build up turns him on
-he gets turned on by anything really
-he loves making sex tapes with you, or taking polaroid photos of you naked
-he can go for quite a while, so far he can make it to 3 rounds
-he’s definitely a dirty talker, saying shit like “fuckin whore” “fuck yeah” “fuck, you’re so tight” “such a fuckin slut for me” or “fuck, I’m gonna fill you up good”
-his favourite position is doggy or cowgirl, even in doggy he loves seeing your ass bounce on him during doggy
-he’s an animal during sex, thrusting into you rapidly and moaning loudly
-he’s more of a groaner then a moaner, but when he’s treated good sometimes he will whimper
-he loves fingering you, the crys you let out when he reaches the right spot drives him crazy
-his favourite thing to do is have you sit on his face, and grind your hips into his mouth
-hell do it anywhere, he has determination to get the job done no matter where you guys are
-the risk of getting caught turns him on more
-he doesn’t care if someone walks in he will still be pounding into you
-he’s 100% into roleplay, he loves it when your the doctor and he’s the patient (stupid scenario but yiu get my point) 
-he likes having sex with you when he’s drunk, his stamina increases 10 folds when he’s drunk

#slipknot#slipknot x reader#sid wilson#Sid Wilson x Reader#slipknot fanfic#I love Sid so much and I enjoyed writing this#I gotta add more for slipknot tbh
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The maid of Mr. Barnes - Part 3 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)
The maid of Mr. Barnes
Part 3 - Mr. Barnes // The maid of Mr. Barnes Masterlist
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Mafia AU
Warnings: none
Summary: You meet Mr. Barnes.
When morning comes, Bucky is already in his office, leaning back on his black leather chair with Sam and Steve in front of him at the other side of the thick mahogany desk. The room basks in the warm rays of the sun through the window. The sound of the sprinklers can be heard from somewhere in the garden.
"So you meet her already?" Sam asks with a wide grin on his face. He already knows the answer.
"I did," Bucky nods.
"And what do you think?"
"Fuck off," the brunette grumbles, making his friends laugh.
"Then you like her, I guess."
"You didn't tell me she is fucking beautiful."
"She is your employee, Bucky," Sam teases him mercilessly. "You shouldn't care about her looks."
But of course, he does. You were a sleepy, hungry mess when he found you in his kitchen in the middle of the night. Your mismatched, worn pajamas were too big to show your figure, but Bucky didn't even need that. The dim lights highlighted your cheekbones, the line of your nose, and the soft curve of your lips. And the moment you asked him if he wanted a sandwich at midnight, he knew he was a goner. And Sam fucking Wilson knew this would happen. What more! Bucky is sure that both of his friends knew it.
Bastards!
Before Bucky could answer, a soft knock disturbs their conversation.
"Come on in," Bucky answers, clearing his throat and straightening his posture as you open the door. Sam and Steve suppress their smirk, turning their attention back to you and your shocked gasp. You stand in the doorway, looking at the man behind the desk who smiles at you apologetically.
Yeah. He is the man you ate with last night. He is your boss. The man you ate a sandwich with is your boss. Heat creeps up on your face from embarrassment.
You should have known. He radiates power and authority. There is no way a man like him could be just a man among the others.
"Good morning," you speak up when you find your voice finally. "Sam told me to come here," you add, glancing at the man for a second.
"Right," Mr. Barnes nods, motioning to his men to leave. "I wanted to get to know you better."
"I bet," Sam laughs under his breath, earning a glare from Bucky, but fortunately, you are still too busy with your embarrassment to hear them.
"You can leave now," Bucky says, still glaring at his friends.
Soon, the door closes behind you, and you stay alone with Mr. Barnes.
"Please, sit," he says, and you do as he says.
"I'm sorry I didn't..." you start, but the man doesn't let you continue.
"None of that," he says. "If someone, I should be apologizing. I was rude not to introduce myself."
"It's fine," you reply, fidgeting in your seat.
"Back to business," he hums, glancing at the computer's blank screen. "I guess Sam and Steve already told you everything you should know."
"Yes."
"Your Sundays and Mondays are off," he explains anyway. "I want someone who cleans the common rooms and other places if necessary. I heard you helped Peter yesterday. He comes every few weeks with a team to take care of the garden, and I have another team for deep cleaning."
"I understand," you nod. Yeah, Sam already told you all of this.
Your gaze follows his tattooed hands as he adjusts the collar around his neck. Black ink peeks out under the white shirt at his collarbone. The tie is loose around his neck.
"I hope your work schedule doesn't cause a problem with your partner," he says, making you drag your eyes to his.
"I don't have anyone," you reply, confused. "I lived with my roommate."
Of course, Bucky already knows that. He just wanted to hear it from you too. Sam made sure he found everything about you before hiring you. They know your family lives a few hours away, and you had a relationship while you worked for a family. Life happened, and now you are here. In his office, under his watchful eyes.
"Did you have breakfast?" He asks suddenly, already standing up from his seat.
"N-No," you reply, watching him. His every movement is confident and calm. He owns this place, and he knows it.
"Then come with me," he says. "I'm hungry."
"I should work," you argue softly, already knowing you don't really have a say. These men do what they want.
"You will after breakfast," he nods, opening the door for you. "Come on, Bunny."
You don't react to the unusual nickname, being too busy with the spicy scent of his cologne as you pass him.
"What do you want to eat?"
"Uhm," you hum. "I'm okay with whatever you want."
"I know a place. Their pancakes are amazing."
"Sounds good."
Pancakes. The mob boss. One of the leaders of the Avengers. The man you were so anxious to meet wants pancakes for breakfast.
Soon, you find yourself in an expensive car with Bucky at your side. The leather on the seats is probably worth more than you could sell your soul to the devil. It almost feels wrong to sit on it.
"Relax, Y/N," he laughs, sensing your fidgetiness.
"I'm trying," you murmur, leaning back on the seat and letting him drive you to a coffee shop in the city.
The small place is buzzing with life, and the air is filled with the scent of coffee and baked goods. You are ready to go to the end of the line when his large hand finds the small of your back. His touch is warm and soft as he guides you to the counter.
"But the..." you start, but he smirks, shaking his head.
"I know the owner," he explains, still holding you.
Mr. Barnes's whole presence hovers over you, locking out everything else. His chest brushes your shoulder as he orders for both of you.
"Is it okay?" He asks, turning to you.
Your stomach growls at the mention of fresh pancakes with fruits and chocolate topping.
"Yes," you nod, letting him lead you to a table next to the windows.
The man almost looks comical in his expensive, black suit in the light-colored, flower-patterned environment. He is confident and comfortable, taking a seat in front of you.
"So," you start to break the silence. You are not sure what you could speak about with a gangster. "Do you come here often?"
"Almost every week," he says. "Have you been here before?"
"No," you shake your head. This part of the city is too expensive for your budget. The streets are full of boutiques and restaurants. A dress probably costs more than the rent of your old flat you shared with your friend.
"I read in your CV that you didn't finish college," he says after a while, still waiting for your orders.
"That's true," you nod. "I had a chance to work in a hotel in Europe, and after that, I didn't want to go back to school."
"Where were you?"
"Vienna," you reply. "I... cleaned."
"So, you enjoy traveling?"
"Yes," you smile. "I mean, I didn't have much chance to see the world yet, but yes."
Bucky makes a mental note about it, listing all the countries and cities he wants to show you one day.
"And you?" You ask. You are not sure, you can ask questions about him, but you don't want to seem rude either.
"I like traveling too," he nods. "Have you been in Vegas before?"
"No," you shake your head, confused about the sudden question. Why Vegas?
"I have to go there soon," he explains. "And I would like you to come with me."
The shock on your face is not deniable.
"What? Why?"
The man shrugs, leaning back on the chair with a smirk. "I need someone to help me, and you are perfect for it."
He can already see you in a pretty dress with jewels highlighting your soft features. He can't help but think about a room with a mirror above the bed. Yeah, you would look good in just jewels.
The man wants to spoil you, and he will be damned if he won't do it. He just needs his Bunny to trust him enough.
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It Started With a Whisper
Chapter 2
Pairing: Sam Wilson x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. This starts off tame, pure fluff. Soft Sam. Cursing and allusions to body parts and sex. This series will get explicit so I will keep the community label on mature. There will be angst and smut. Mentions of sick parents, responsible adulting, and unfair burdens. AAVE intentional language.
Summary: This starts off about a week or so before Captain America and The Winter Soldier. You are the front desk clerk who started a few months ago and you have a major crush on Sam Wilson, the handsome and sweet trauma counselor. Your best friend suckers you into going with Sam on a coffee run.
Word Count: 2,275k
Masterlist
A/N: The more I rewatch The Winter Soldier, I know I'm primarily drooling over Seb like everyone else, but I've really come to appreciate Sam. He's hilarious and Anthony Mackie is perfect. I just wanted to contribute a little something. While likes are awesome, please consider commenting and reblogging to support writers!
“You got a little drool there," Your best friend, Ariel, said and smacked your face with a folder. You jumped, pulled from your daydreaming, and smacked her back.
“Am not,” you muttered. You covertly wiped your mouth and Ariel laughed. “I saw that, ho,” she said.
You rolled your eyes and shuffled papers in front of you, grumbling to yourself. You didn’t want to look, but your eyes were drawn towards the front. Towards Sam. He stood talking to a veteran after their meeting and he was engaged, focused, listening. You briefly wondered what it would be like to have that focus on you.
You mentally shook yourself. You did not need those problems. Still, your eyes tracked him. How he moved, how he laughed. His smile was infectious. He was the type that not only heard you, but listened.
“When are you gonna tell that boy how badly you want to rip his–”
“Shush!” You scolded.
Ariel laughed and continued filing away client files. “He’s way over there, you think he can hear me?”
You shrugged. “We just found out Norse gods are real, supersoldiers coming back from the ice and shit, and aliens tried to take over New York. So yeah, you never know.”
Ariel laughed. “If Sam is special or whatever, don’t you think we would’ve found out by now? With how much you stare at him?”
“Hey, I don’t stare. It’s not like I can look at anything else. This is literally the front desk.”
Ariel held up her hands. “He ain’t sorry to look at. I’m just sayin’. You’d know if his fine ass had any super powers.”
You rolled your eyes again and focused on the meeting schedule in front of you and client emails. You bit your lip as you concentrated, intent on actually getting some work done.
Veterans Affairs was usually a chill place. As the front desk clerk, there wasn’t a lot of responsibility. Which you preferred. The hours were flexible, boss was understanding, and despite Ariel always talkin’ shit, you had good company. And yeah, the view wasn’t bad.
Again, your mind drifted to Sam. It didn’t make any sense for him to look that fine working in a place like this. But he was good with the veterans. His groups filled up fast sometimes, to the point where he’d stay for just one more.
You sighed. You were a grown woman. You had no business lusting after a man.
“Good afternoon, ladies.”
You jumped and looked over at Sam. Sam, standing in front of you. Sam, looking at you and smiling. You froze. Did you conjure him? Did he catch you staring?
Ariel elbowed you as she turned in the small front desk area and leaned on the desk. “Good afternoon, Sam. How goes it?”
“Afternoon,” you managed to mumble. You think. Idiot. How exactly do you talk to a man that you were just picturing naked? You bet it was big too. Fuck. You were thinking it again.
“Pretty good. I got some time before my next group. I was going to head to the cafe up the street and get something.” Sam kept his eyes fixed on you. You pointedly did not look at him. You didn’t care if you were being rude. You just wanted your face to stop giving away your nasty thoughts.
“Really! What a coincidence. Y/N was just saying she felt a little peckish,” Ariel said.
You whipped your head towards her and glared. You stumbled over your words. You couldn’t deny that shit fast enough.
“I-uh, well, my-my family packed something for me,” you said.
Sam laughed. “Don’t worry, I know you don’t want to be seen around town with someone like me.”
Your eyes widened and you shook your head. “That’s not true! I would never–I mean, I’m not…”
Sam laughed again. “I’m joking, Y/N.” How did he manage to make your name sound so…melodic?
You laughed nervously and licked your lips. You were a well educated woman, oldest child, and Sam turned you into a bumbling idiot.
“One of these days I’ll wear you down. You’ll have to give me a good excuse or go on and accept a date with me.”
Your cheeks couldn’t burn hotter. You thanked whoever was listening that your dark skin hid your blush. “Sam…”
He shook his head and waved you off. “I’m not pressuring you, I swear. I’m just sayin’, I’m a good time.” His smirk made his high cheekbones stick out.
“She knows it. She’s just stubborn,” Ariel said.
You stood up and bumped her with your hip, offering a small and fake apology. “I am not,” you said.
“I know it. I’ll have to impress her, right? Get her to take a chance on me?” Sam asked Ariel.
“Mhhm, poor thing needs to be hit over the head,” Ariel said.
“Are ya’ll done laughing at my expense?”
“No!” Sam and Ariel said at the same time. You rolled your eyes and put your hands on your hips.
Hell, you didn’t know why you kept saying no anyway. Well, you did. But your excuses never fazed Ariel. You had a busy home life, with family that depended on you. Was it really fair to start something up if you couldn’t follow through?
Ariel would say yes. That you deserved fun. That it didn’t have to be anything other than casual. But your crush was anything but casual. You wanted this man, biblically. You couldn’t string two sentences around the man.
But did you want your family to run your life? Just because you were responsible didn’t mean you had to be boring. You weren’t always like this. This…goop of a puddle who couldn’t look a man in the eye. You were gorgeous, goddamn it! You had curves, a nice ass, and a cute face. Tits weren’t bad either.
“One trip to the cafe?” You asked.
Sam grinned and nodded. “One trip. Harmless,” he said and shrugged his shoulders.
Mhmm. You looked at Ariel who pumped her fist. The bitch could at least be subtle about it. You giggled and gathered your purse.
“It appears I’m taking my break now,” you told Ariel.
“Take ya time. All the time you need,” Ariel said and eyed Sam up and down. She was embarrassing enough for the both of you.
You exited the closed off desk area, returning the half door to its place. You were doing it. You were standing next to him. You also felt like you were going to throw up, but you’d take the victory where you could.
Sam led the way out of the VA building and you blinked into the late DC sun. You forgot how dark it could be in the building. You needed to head out more and get some sun on your bones.
Together, you walked with Sam towards the small cafe on the corner. You walked in silence for a bit, biting the inside of your cheek. You were so painfully awkward.
“I gotta say, I’m shocked to see you out from behind the desk.”
You laughed. “Not what you was picturing?” You asked.
“Better.”
You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Boy…”
He laughed. “I’m sorry,” he said and didn’t look the least bit sorry. He always looked like he knew a secret you didn’t. Instead of looking like an asshole, he looked like he was dying to tell it.
“Can you blame me? I’ve been askin’ for months.” He said. You waited at a corner for the light to turn so you could cross. Sam got on the other side of you, so that he was closest to the oncoming traffic. Your heart melted a tiny bit.
DC was expansive and yet seemed so small. Cars were jam packed, honking, and everyone was rushing around. Everyone walked with a purpose, some place to be and something to do. There was a light breeze and the sun was losing its heat.
“I’m sorry about that…”
“I’m not saying it to make you feel bad. I’m just sayin’ I’m grateful I get to spend any time with you. Whatever you’re cool with, I promise.”
“I like that you ask me out. I hate havin’ to say no.” You admitted. It was so damn true, it hurt. You did hate saying no. You hated that he would smile through it all, so understanding. But you knew he was disappointed.
“Why do you say no?” He asked. He asked it softly, not judging. Sam was so damn sweet, you should have a cavity.
You took a deep breath as you crossed the street. It was a loaded question. Where did you start? A hermit mom who was too scared to leave the house after New York? Your stubborn but ailing dad who refused to go to the hospital? Your wild and out siblings who never took shit seriously?
“Home life is kind of…chaotic. After New York, everyone’s been on edge. I know it was two years ago, but it doesn’t really help. We had live footage that nasty aliens exist.”
Sam nodded his head. He held the door open for you as you went inside the cafe. The heavenly aroma of fresh bread and coffee made your mouth water. The cafe was smallish, mostly for getting the order to go. There were tables and chairs for people to sit but they were all occupied.
The shop itself had a new age, almost hippy vibe but was every inch the upscale coffee shop political types loved. Everything was modern, clean, and even had a chalkboard menu. Because of course they did.
You stood in line. “Yeah, that was insane to watch on TV before the cameras went down. I’ve talked to plenty of people that still fear going outside. You afraid of another attack?”
You sighed. You knew he wouldn’t judge you, bless him. But it wasn’t you that was afraid. Your mother’s nerves were so bad, they were contagious. It was easier to stay home than have her call you ten times per minute to make sure you were safe. Yes, you were aware that it had nothing to do with you. But you were trying, okay?
“Not me, exactly,” you said and laughed. “It’s hard to explain.”
“It’s cool. You don’t have to. But I’m here if you ever need someone to talk to,” he said.
You smiled at him. “Thanks, Sam.”
He smiled. You approached the barista and ordered. You reached for your wallet when Sam stopped you. “I asked you here, it’s my treat.”
“Sam, no. I can pay for my order.”
“Never said you couldn’t. My treat,” he said. He handed the barista his card and paid for the order anyway. You scowled. It only made him laugh.
“It’s only a few bucks.”
“That’s not the point. I don’t like people paying for me,” you said.
“Not even as a treat?” He asked. You both moved off to the side to wait for your coffee and muffin.
“Not really,” you said.
Sam smiled. “I’m sorry. Tell you what. We can walk here again tomorrow and I’ll let you pay. I’ll even order the most expensive thing on the menu.”
You laughed and shook your head. “You just want to walk here again with me.”
“Did it work?” He asked.
You pursed your lips. Dammit, yes. You nodded and he celebrated. “I’ll take it.”
You grabbed your order and headed back towards the building, asking how he got started into counseling.
“Counseling helped me a lot when I got back. I wanted to pay it forward. I’m pretty good at talkin’ to people. Figured it was my calling,” he said.
“You ever miss it?”
Sam shrugged and sipped some of his coffee. You admired anyone who could walk and drink. Your drink would’ve ended up all over your outfit. And you rather liked these jeans and your flowery blouse.
“Yes and no? I don’t miss the action. I miss my brothers though. There’s a deep bond you form over there that never really leaves you.”
You nodded. You never served but you heard that sentiment repeatedly as they checked in for groups, signed up for others, or needed resources. The military chewed you up and spat you out and never stopped to give a damn.
You continued to learn more about him, more than you managed to pick up when you started working at the VA. He was from Louisiana, he has a sister, and two nephews. His parents owned a fishing business.
He was so easy to talk to, once you got past your initial dirty thoughts and weird hangups about him. He made you laugh so many times on the way back, your sides were hurting as you entered the dimly lit, bland government building. He walked you back to the front desk where Ariel was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“Nothing for me? I’m hurt.”
“Good. That’s what you get for being a smart ass,” you said.
“Got your behind out walking with him, didn’t it?” Ariel laughed and high-fived Sam.
You narrowed your eyes. “I hope ya’ll didn’t plan this,” you said.
Sam held up his hands, raising his cup in the air. “On my honor as an Airman, I did not plan this.” He walked backwards as he winked at you.
“Until tomorrow, Y/N.”
“Bye, Sam,” you said and rolled your eyes. Even if it was a set up, you didn’t mind. You had a lot of fun.
You entered the booth and sat down. Ariel leaned her hip against the desk and flipped her long hair over her shoulder.
“Spill, bitch!”
Masterlist | Chapter 2
#Megaminds Secret Files#The Secret Sam Wilson Files#Sam Wilson#Sam Wilson x Black!reader#Sam Wilson x Black reader#Sam Wilson x Fem!reader#Sam Wilson x Fem reader#Sam Wilson x reader#Sam Wilson x you#marvel smut#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#marvel fan fic#marvel fan fiction#Sam Wilson Falcon#Sam Wilson Captain America#fanfic#fan fic#fanfiction#fan fiction
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some pairs: peter/gamora, bucky/sarah, han/leia, aishwarya/vikram
some words: literary, aromatic, windswept, proximity
sarah/bucky, windswept
Two Boots River was not ever a river but in fact a marshy channel that got bogged up by water reeds and slime in the summer season. The residents of St. Bernard’s Parish had called it such before there was a parish for St. Bernard anywhere in sight, and at this point it was a long abandoned fisherman’s route; the overnight shacks lining dotting the route were decrepit and all the best spots for crab traps were infested. No one knew by what, but nobody went there anymore anyway, if they were smart. Unless they were taking a shortcut home, to get back in time for a meeting with a potential investor, which Sarah Wilson had scheduled for tomorrow.
“Fuck,” says the woman in question. “Shit damn. This is what I get for being an idiot.”
She isn’t leaning over the side of the boat because that would be terribly unwise in a gale. It could be a hurricane. Nothing about one in the news, but Sarah wouldn’t bet against that just being her luck.
“Maybe I’ll find those boots,” calls out her companion, over the roaring rainstorm.
“You will not,” Sarah says. She keeps having to swipe water out of her eyes. God, it is terrible out here, and the St. Grace is stuck. She is in one of those positions where she cannot be thankful that they made enough money in the last quarter for her to be able to buy a second boat – not when they could possibly lose it in a freak storm of her own idiocy. “You’ll find a bunch of ghosts, that’s what those boots belong to.”
He eyes the churning muck below them with a detachedly contemplative precision that doesn’t make sense given the hurricane. “It’s not a hurricane,” Bucky says.
“I’m gonna lose my house,” says Sarah, wiping her face again and holding down a rope for dear life, lest the whole thing pick up and fly away. “Please God let my children be in the neighbour’s storm room. You haven’t lived here.”
“I can do ghosts,” he says instead of answering her, and then jumps into the water.
If Sarah were a better person she’d have stopped him, for the sake of his general health. This kind of bog muck in the middle of a storm can kill a person, just as sure as it can get a boat stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere. Sarah throws the line down anyway and swears a bit more to herself because there is no one there but God and the ghosts to hear. After three minutes of the wind’s interminable howling she is sure Bucky Barnes is dead and she has killed him. Then the line goes taut and St. Grace lurches and Sarah nearly falls so hard she breaks her nose.
“Jesus,” she says. They are moving forward, by inches. The braken sludges away around St. Grace’s hull. She’s gonna miss her meeting for sure. “Bucky?” she calls out into the howl of the storm. “James?” They’re moving forward in earnest now. But she can’t really see him. If they’re moving he hasn’t drowned. Sarah is being practical about it.
“James B you better not be dead,” she says.
Bucky pops out of the water about a yard away, black with mud. He’s the wettest equivalent of windswept, like the gale winds were going at him under the water too.
“Fuck,” he says, and spits out muck. The rope is wound tight around his left arm and she can see the strain of exertion in his neck, under the muck. His eyes look frightened by something that is not the storm. Ghosts, probably. The fool. He didn't think, did he. Regardless, Sarah wets her bottom lip, unnecessarily given the storm, and doesn't know why she didn’t fully believe him when he said he'd pull them out by hand. Wildly, for a moment, Sarah wonders: if were her house really to be blown away, could Bucky build her a new one?
But just now his eyes still look frightened -- they are the only part of his face she can really make out -- so she puts that thought out of mind and calls directions out to him over the wind, so they can find safety together.
Blessedly, he hears her.
An hour later they are sheltering in one of those abandoned fisherman’s shacks. Except it’s not abandoned, as there was a can of beans in the pantry and wood for a fire by the stove, also non-moldy blankets closed up in a pretty modern plastic bin.
“I feel like I’m camping,” Sarah says. “Guess I’m not the only person stupid enough to take Two Boots. My meeting …” she sighs, trailing off. She is wrapped in one of the blankets but still has her shorts and t-shirt on, as they didn’t take too much damage under her parka. Bucky’s across from her on the other side of the table, wrapped in the two remaining blankets, which he’s mostly using to cover his left side and damp boxers. They watch his sopping clothes drip slow slow slow onto the floor by the stove fire, together.
“Those are gonna be gross tomorrow,” he says.
“It’s okay,” says Sarah, tired, rubbing one eye and not thinking about it. “I don’t mind you being a little naked.”
She cringes then, because that’s not really fair or appropriate. Bucky came with her because he is technically her employee or something. She’s not sure. Of course he is family, and he isn’t out there superheroing with Sam at present, which he has not called retirement but certainly hasn’t talked much about in a different capacity either. He just showed up one day and Sarah started giving him things to do because Lord knows they needed to be done, and she liked having him around.
She chances a glance at him and he looks mildly amused, save for the traitorous pink flush on his neck, which she figures he can’t help as a white person. Poor thing.
“Sorry,” she says.
“It’s fine,” hasty. “I’m just – the mud brought back bad memories.” She realizes he is trying to apologize for being quiet, which she now realizes could have maybe been read as taciturn or even completely dissociated, but she was so caught in her own worries she really didn’t notice.
“Oh, James,” she says.
“The house will be okay, you know?”
“Will you?”
He grunts. Looks at her a long time. The fire goes on crackling. She looks at the crates in the corner, which hold the engine parts they’d gone to pick up for a little skiff that’ll help St. Grace with the fishing. Sarah is terrible at delegating; someone else could’ve run this route. At the same time, she seems terrible at refusing help lately, too, specific help from a specific person, and it is making her skin itch. Neither of them should be here right now. What if the house blows away? As if to drive this point home thunder cracks outside, so loud it makes itself known through the wind.
“You better not be here because you’re running away,” Sarah says abruptly. Maybe the thunder scared the words out of her. Or the reminder of his ghosts. It’s very hard suddenly to stop herself from climbing over the table and touching him. It would be a grabby touch, the kind that would hold him in place. The thought is embarrassing but Sarah is grown enough to admit to it, and to be righteously angered by the evidence that compels her in that direction, too.
“Running?” Bucky asks. His hair sticks up at the top, in a tuft, where he dried it roughly with the blanket’s edge.
“Cause you’re not out there, you know, but I think you still like superheroing. I think you’ve always been that kind of person.”
That's not the full truth, but the full truth would be callous. And anyway, he can think and understand what he likes about Sarah, too.
“Is this because I said to come with you on this trip?”
“Yeah, Mr. Helpful. Not just me though. Everyone in town. If it was just me I’d say sure, I know the way you look at me, whatever. Men show they like you with all kinds of stupid. But everyone else, too.”
“I’m not a superhero, Sarah.”
“Then what the hell are you, Bucky Barnes?” To me, she means.
He tilts his head and stares at the floor. The light from the fire carves out his cheekbones and lashes and the smudge of bog muck still covering his temple. Sarah is overcome by the urge to cry.
He shrugs. “Family man, I guess.”
“You guess.” Oh. The tears do come.
“Sarah?”
“Yeah, baby.”
“I think I love you.”
Sarah wipes hard at the wetness on her face, annoyed that it is persisting even now that she’s safe from the gale outside. She takes a few deep breaths. “You mean, not just like family.”
“Oh. No. In love, I guess.” His voice has gone terribly soft. “In love with you.”
The fire crackles. The wind gales. They can hear the bell on St. Grace dinging outside where she tosses a bit, even tied down so nicely.
“Yeah? I’m halfway there.” Sarah is surprised by the tenderness in her own voice, considering how this has complicated her world. “Maybe two thirds.”
“I know.”
“So why’d you say it? You could’ve waited.”
“I didn’t know I could. Felt good to say it, I guess.”
“What?” She realizes, “love somebody? Oh my God, Bucky, a blind crab could’ve told me you could love someone.”
He frowns, but there’s humour in his voice when he says, “Yeah, but you could tell ‘cause you’re good at it. I haven’t been any good at it in a while.”
And you just thought to try with me? Is Sarah’s next thought, which is more hateful than he deserves. The wind picks up outside quite suddenly and it feels the shack is about to fly away with it.
“Sarah,” he says again. She does love how he holds her name in his mouth. Sarah gets up and goes over and sits beside him on the chair. It’s not really big enough to hold both of them and their blankets, but they make it work. They both smell. And his left shoulder is uncomfortable to lean her head against, so, after a moment of contemplation, she kisses it instead.
“I’m gonna miss my meeting,” says Sarah, almost in a laugh, and then doesn’t think about much else: the hungry yearning in the room has stopped existing as a ghost. One too many acts of tenderness have breathed life back into it. "Boots are still wet though," she adds, tugging his urgent hands around her waist. The blanket has slipped mostly away from his shoulder now, "yours I mean. Maybe we can split my clothes between us tomorrow."
And it is a silly thought, so they both do laugh, properly this time, like a brighter version of the St. Grace's bell being tossed around in the storm.
#my writing#finally wrote something i like prose wise!#sarah x bucky#fleur de louve#fatws#sarah wilson#bucky barnes#marvel#one word prompts#to this day that last prompt KILLS me. tumblr user ewoktreehouse do u know how many times i have laughed reading it over
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@girlygo2 “Secrets From A Twisted Heart” Spoilers under the cut
This is mostly going to be me going over my favorite/most memorable bits in most of the chapters :)
I’ll also go over a few extra things throughout and at the end
He’s such a cringefail loser dude I love him
OH FUCK
Imagine if Walter noticed the creature having Wilson’s face Wilson would’ve been so FUCKED
The thing abt bits like this is like
We, the audience, know exactly what Wilson is going through
So like parts like this make me cringe a bit and go “Uh oh” bc I know what’s happening but the Survivors (other than Wilson and Wes) don’t (not saying that’s a bad thing. I just wanted to talk abt it)
I FELT SO BAD FOR WILSON AND WES HERE
Like Wilson probably just feels more like shit than he already did and Wes just feels awful for Wilson
Like I was thinking to myself “What if they knew it was Wilson? How would they feel?” (More in a negative way, directed at the Survivors [Not mad at the author], although it’s sort of understandable)
I think I felt that they’d feel a combination of sympathy and anger, as Wilson did kill Willow, but as he put it, it wasn’t exactly him doing that. If they were to know that, they’d probably just feel sympathy for Wilson
I remember thinking to myself before chapter 3 came out “What if they used one of the Survivors as bait”
Unlikely scenario but I still thought it
AWWWWWW POOR THIIIING
He’s so fucking dismayed dude
I bet when Wes heard her say that his eyes immediately widened and he held the book to his chest and kept it SHUT
AWWW NOOOOOO
He feels so fucking bad dude poor thing
OH SHIT WILSON RUN-
Also smth abt this, Wilson is still their friend. Even if Wilson is the beast, and is technically what killed Willow and hurt Winona, I believe that if the Survivors knew more abt what Retorateras was, they’d understand better. Retorateras isn’t exactly a separate entity. Wilson is still there. The mind of Retorateras (from what I can remember and determine) is a combination of a human’s mind and a beast’s mind. However, based on what happened with Willow at the end of part 1, sometimes the beast takes over completely (from what I can determine).
It’s not exactly a bloodthirsty monster. Wilson is still there, although he’s not always controlling half of the mind. But that’s not Wilson. That’s the beast. There is a difference I believe, based on what the story tells (I think I’m getting this right?)
Smth I also noticed while going through chapter 2 again was how well characterized everyone is. Everyone matches their canon attitude :)
Also, remember how Wickerbottom said Maxwell wasn’t there?
Where tf is Maxwell? Is he still dead after being freed from the Throne? I’m assuming that’s why he’s not there

#don’t starve#dst wilson#dst wes#dst willow#dst walter#dst wigfrid#dst woodie#dst wickerbottom#Retorateras
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Tables always turn.🥀⌛️
Remember what I said? Times up
I meant what I said times up!
Nobody listened, we all gone eat now,
You best run for your life!
The tables always turning, people always talking, I’m no longer listening.
I can hear the silence in the air, knowing damn well, they know, they know no returns.
*smiling at the silence.*
Let them fear, let them talk, I’m go after a dream, they have no control of.
Here we go again,
You should have returned along time ago,
It’s cute seeing you all warm & cozy-Alex
I bet I could hit the stop sign with my bow.-me
I have no doubts, you are good.-him
What’s our brilliant plan Alex?-me
Adventure, thrill that’s what we seek lately-him
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,
Or a thrill seeker, or fucking risk taker,
So feed me. -I say.
I can’t take you can I?
“Nah, I’m free spirit I do what I wanna.”-me
He might not be able too, I can though.-a voice
*I could feel the tension.*
You said tables gotta turn, they turned.-twin
I looked at the helmet,
I see why you got into street bikes 🏍️.
That’s very cute.-me
Your not a writer, show me watcha got.-me
I don’t gotta be a writer, to turn tables madyson. -twin 🔥
You say you belong too, who you belong too,
One has your soul, the other helps your career.
Yeah id say you belong to both of us.-twin. 🔥
“If you think you got what it takes, prove it.
I’d love to see it.-me
* steps into me, I do have what it takes.”
Honey you know I will. God your sexy. -him
I knew that already though,
I won’t lie the helmet on you is mysterious,
I recognize your voice any day.
You cannot fool, the foolish, two can play,
The magician, the publisher, the coyote.
It all goes hand in hand. -me
You never thought I’d match you,
I match you,
Now give it up, take the challenge,
I got you right where I want. -twin 🔥
*I smile knowing he’s right,
I swear the maturity level hits different,
Catastrophic, yet all the right reasons.*
Tables gone turn ToDay! -(I say riled up.)
*both my boys laughing now.*
Yet,
You still haven’t told me,
How. Does. The kill switch work!?
*I say smiling.*
They both looked at me, no absolutely not!!
We are telling you that. -twin 🔥🪶🏹
“I’ll find it myself.”-me
*They give me another look.*
The twin flame especially,🔥
You touch the switch I promise you.- he warns
“I do what I want, when I wanna.”-me
He leans into me now,
“Try it.”-his voice low.
I bit my lower lip knowing, I’m playing with fire,
Both hands on the matches,
You really wanna play right now,
I can see it in your eyes knock it off. -twin 🔥
What if I don’t wanna huh?
You ain’t gone do shit! -me
*both boys start chuckling 🤭 *
Twin leans into, as if he was going too,
His kisses are deadly, he knew his motive,
My knees weakened, our eyes locked.
*The smirk on his face.*
Yeahh! Stay humble! I got you weak!- he said
*my courage somehow gets the best of me.*
*I’m so scared! I speak sarcastically. *
*Alex spits out his wine.*
*his chuckle was a sign I’m in trouble*
“She’s mine the rest of the night.”- twin
*Now I’m double scared, I said sarcastically.*
*my laughter making it worse.*
He looked done now,
Somebody wants ass whooping!
Get your shit and let’s go!
Now-he said firm.
“He said light the Match, so i lit the match.”
Tables really gone turn now.
By: Madyson Wilson 🪶🏹🏍️🔥
#madysonwilsonswritings#inspiration#writers on tumblr#writers#writerscommunity#my writing#neverendingstory#love poem#ourworldundone#motivating quotes#literally#madysonswilsonssharpcutwritings#madysonssavagemoments.#deepstory#deepmadyson#flirty banter#sexy poetry#motivatedmindset#creativewriters
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𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
words: 4k words (goddamn i'm a slut for fluffy goodness)
warnings: angst at the beginning, fluffy goodness, bucky barnes in an apron (sexy sexy man), civil war era bucky, yn’s family lives on the west coast go norcal go), gingerbread making this is very christmas indulgent
summary: y/n l/n is very much a family girl. she enjoys spending time with her parents and her nieces, to get to taste her traditional family cookies in the suburbs of california, but living in new york has its consequences, snowstorms being just one of them. she doesn’t know how she’ll make it through the holiday season without getting to go home, but it’s a good thing that there’s always a pretty, blue-eyed, metal-armed super soldier always willing to help her out.
a/n: i’m tired. i’m very very tired. but as long as i have me bucko i think i’ll be okay🥰 please do enjoy, and happy holidays my babies <33 reblog and comment if you really wanna make me happy !!
main masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist
December 20. A stupid, no-good, absolutely goddamn awful day. Sure, it was beautiful. Winter looked good on New York, especially upstate where the plentiful trees let snow rest on their branches and children sloshed across the ground for a small bit of warmth. Opalescent lakes froze over, catching a certain serenity in its gaze, animals hibernating by its pretty sight to create the most Hallmark image in the world. Despite everything wonderful the New York holiday season had to offer Y/N, she loved to spend her holidays in the slightly warmer air of California. The salty breeze of San Francisco and the misty fog that rolled over her head on Christmas walks with her two little nieces were just too good to pass up. After all, this was the year Mona and Cici were five and she had bets that they finally remembered her name. Auntie Y/N did have a nice ring to it.
But this year, the New York weather had proved to be a little stubborn when it came to getting home. The Avenger should’ve expected it, with the immense amounts of snow clouding up the sky and the streets of the East coast, but she had held out all hope. Until now.
“Your flight is cancelled, my ass!” The woman yelled. The words echoed around her room, making them just that more real that she wouldn’t be home, her real home, for the holidays this year. “This is goddamn bullshit.”
“Shut the fuck up, Y/N.” Sam groaned from the room next to hers. Her wallmate was normally up at the same time as her, an early-riser superstar, Sam Wilson was. He also shared her love for the holidays and for his own family, but the difference between the two of them was that his sister and nephews were already in state for their visit.
Turning to the wall the noise came from, she knocked it a few times just to piss her friend off. “Fuck off, bird-brain, my plane home got cancelled. Stupid fucking snowstorm.” Y/N turned her phone off and flopped backwards into the bed, her body bouncing a few times before coming to a rest, ending in a position that was not safe nor comfortable. She readjusted her arms that had gotten caught under the weight of the rest of her body and faced her door with a pout, only to catch sight of the two bubblegum pink suitcases filled with her clothes and souvenirs to bring back to her family. It only angered her even further.
Two knocks sounded at the door of her room and Sam walked in, baring sympathetic eyes and an apologetic smile. His pajamas were still on, his Yoda ones with the stupid, matching house slippers, eyes bloodshot from the crazy night before.
It was no secret that Y/N enjoyed the holidays, having filled the Avengers compound with garlands of popcorn, blue and white baubles, even going as far as to ask the staff who came in what they celebrated so all would feel welcome during their stay, no matter how long of short it may be. Her excitement for her family and the holiday cheer radiated through the walls of the darkened facility, and while normally the other Avengers enjoyed her spirit, they really just wanted to damn sleep after their drunken movie night that had ended at three in the morning.
Said drunken movie night may have included a very tipsy Wanda giving a very blushful Vision a lap dance and Sam had also been victim to a terrible, just terrible, lap dance from one Tony Stark.
“I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t know you were having a shitty day. It sucks you can’t go home this year.” The kind man came to sit next to his close friend on the bed, rubbing her shin with his left hand. “There’s just no easy solution for these kinds of things.”
Her heart ached for home. For the first time in nearly two decades, she wouldn’t be sitting with her parents at the dinner table, setting a roasted turkey on the table to share with family. But she moved on. There was no use in crying over something she couldn’t change. She sighed, shoving her face into the comforter below her. “Yeah, it kinda blows, but it’s kinda freeing too, I guess.”
The man next to her cocked a brow at her statement, facing her as he asked, “What do mean by that?”
“Well,” she began to get up, shuffling her legging-clad legs up to her chest, “I’ve never not been home for the holidays. I’ll miss my family and Mona and Cici aren’t gonna get their presents in time because Postal Service is down too, but I get to spend the holidays in the compound this year. With you guys. My second family. Which should be more fun because now I can be naughty,” she exaggerated her last word, jokingly winking at her friend with a smirk.
“I’m glad you’re able to find the light in this, Y/N, I'm really proud of you,” Sam grinned genuinely before adding, “Also never knew you were capable of handling anything maturely.”
Y/N huffed out a laugh and grabbed a pillow to launch at his face as he squealed in fear. “Shut the hell up, I’m more adult than the rest of the group combined.” Her friend just took her assault and flung the pillow harder at her, making her catastrophically hit the mattress below her and bang her head on the headboard, but before she could say anything, someone interrupted her complaint.
“That is horseshit, dolly, don’t be makin’ up lies,” a voice sounded from the door of her room. Sam was shit at remembering to close it, she should’ve guessed. Recognizable footsteps padded across the floor, letting her know that someone else had entered her bedroom. It was the beat up black boots, the grey sweatpants, and the cologne scent of cedarwood that always hung off them to let her know that it was-
“Tin Man!” Sam beamed, “you made it just in time for the pity party.” As soon as he said Bucky’s (nick)name, she flew up from where she had fallen on her back, straightening out her hair and trying to look less out of place than she was with her previous lazy airplane-lounging attire. Her attraction to the man was… less than subtle. It had only gotten worse over the year she’d known him so his unexpected arrival made her absolutely rigid. Bucky’s large presence seemed to make everything that much more awkward, his blue-grey eyes wide with surprise at Sam’s outburst. “Can you stay here with Y/N? She’s whinier than usual and I need coffee before I can handle both that and a hangover.”
Before the metal-armed man could speak, Sam zipped out of the room. Y/N also swore that at that moment that she could kill Sam Wilson. The damn idiot knew of her infatuation with the supersoldier (the whole compound did), and it was no coincidence that he had left the two alone in her room. “He’s-”
“Annoying, that's what the bastard is,” Y/N grinned. She ruffled her hair into something slightly better than before, pulling herself up to cross her legs. She only took a glance up to the tall man, before adding, “You don’t have to stay, Buck, really, I’m just being butthurt about nothin’ serious.”
“Hey, darlin’, I don’t mind it. I like spendin’ time with you,” Bucky grimaced as he sat himself on the edge of the bed precariously, being mindful of his large frame interrupting her bubble of personal space. Way to be corny, asshat. He was always a little too worried about being too forward with her. Just her. It was no coincidence that the bird man had left the two of them together because he took every moment he could to taunt the frustrated, lovesick man ever since he’d confessed his love for her a few months back. He gently moved his eyes up to hers, only to find her staring at him already. “I, uh, I heard that you couldn’t go to California this year. I’m real sorry.”
If you keep worrying about me in that damn Brooklyn accent, I’m going to have to kill you. Y/N sighed, letting a small upturn of her lips take over. “Am I really that loud that you can hear me from down the hall?”
“Darlin’” Bucky chuckled, “you know you are.” Both of them shared a short, sweet laugh about it. Something about the way he teased her, it wasn’t mean, it wasn’t rude, it just made her feel fuzzy and tipsy, like his words were the sweetest, most potent wine she’d drunk.
“That’s very true, Buck,” she sighed. “I think I’ll be okay, I’m just gonna miss my family a lot, but I have you guys here with me too. I can celebrate in some Avengers family traditions this holiday.”
Bucky grinned, testing the waters by scooching closer to the top of her bed where she sat up against the frame, laying a friendly hand on her knee. Thousands of goosebumps spread across her skin at the light of his touch, and she had to stop her heart from beating so furiously loud because she just knew he could hear it. “‘M afraid we don’t do anything except eat dinner and drink together over the holidays. Or what I’ve experienced, anyways. It's not as bright when we don’t have our resident sunshine,” Y/N’s face burned at his slight flirt, and she knew that there was no use in hiding her swelling heart anymore. “Maybe you could bring some of your sunny California traditions over to New York this year. We need more fun things to do, doll.”
A little smile curled at Y/N’s lips, her eyes suddenly glazing over as if she were entranced in a memory. Her fingers started to play with the ones laid on her knee, fidgeting around as she remembered her baby nieces and fond times with her family. “Well, each year I decorate cookies with the younger kids in the family and we go bring them to the senior center near my sister’s house. Her kids were born about five years back, Cici and-”
“Mona, I remember.” Chubby-cheeks, toothless grins, and wide, innocent eyes staring into the camera, wearing matching tutus and shirts for their second birthday three years prior. When he had first seen the picture, he noticed that it was something he had wanted before the war. Something he still longed for, but definitely couldn’t have. If he could though, it would only be with the woman playing with his fingers and sitting right in front of him. “Real cute kids,” he noted.
Y/N nodded and glanced out of the window in her room, watching the snow come down hard on those poor people who had to walk during the harsh weather.
“Well, dolly, I know for a fact that I saw that Tony stocked up on some ingredients from the recent grocery store run.” Bucky saw her ears perk up at his words and he had to hold back a chuckle. “We could go bake some cookies and hand them out at the women’s shelter in Hell’s Kitchen that you always sneak off to right before training. You always have a shitty excuse for being late.”
Her face heated up at being caught, but nonetheless the idea was appealing to her. But an entire day spent doing her family traditions with the sweetest man alive? Yeah, she could definitely get with that idea. “Thought I was bein’ subtle,” she murmured.
“You up for the challenge, darlin’? You’re the only person I know who makes good cookies here, and this is not an easy mission,” he bounced off the bed with a small crack of his old, prehistoric bones, and offered out his metal arm like a true gentleman of his time.
“Challenge accepted.” She took Bucky’s offered arm, which he then used to scoop her up and tossed her frame over his right shoulder as she erupted into a fit of giggles. “Christ, Buck, you could give a girl a warning.”
As they made their way down the long, never-ending route to the familial kitchen, Bucky noted her festive decorations she had set up around their living quarters. He really couldn’t imagine a world without the sparkle she brought to their everyday lives. “You made this place look like a damn hotel, Y/N, you ever thought about becoming an interior designer?”
“Few times,” Y/N quipped back, watching the sight of the cranberry garlands behind his back. “But my parents thought I should pursue a STEM-related major in college so I have to live with the everyday burden of never knowing my true potential.”
“Shut up,” Bucky chuckled, slapping the back of her thigh.
The two laughing Avengers laughed through the hallways of the compound, passing Sam and Steve with mission briefings in hand. “You two look like you’re having fun,” Steve commented with a smirk. He knew very well of Bucky’s thing for Y/N, but he was surprised to see that the brunette had gathered up the courage to have a full on conversation with, much less be holding her on his shoulder.
“Bucky’s taking me to bake some holiday cookies since I can’t visit my family this year.” Y/N yelled, looking up at the two men walking past them. “It’s gonna be loads of fun.”
“I’m sure it will be, kid.” Steve ruffled her hair and she stuck her tongue out at him, watching him laugh at the inability she had to mess up his hair as well.
The kitchen was still empty as when Bucky saw it, the bags of groceries from Safeway stacked neatly in the center of the counter. Bucky let Y/N down, after of course letting her kiss him on his scruffy cheek and watching a pretty blush rise to his face, and scrummage through the bags. There were more eggs, because Sam seemed to go through a carton of them in just two sittings, oat milk, two percent milk, non-fat milk (after taking out the third different type of milk she realized that they really were picky eaters), a bag of brown sugar, and her favorite instant coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts.
“Oh, thank God Tony got more coffee, whoever’s been drinking mine has been driving me insane.” She stashed the box away in her snack cabinet, hoping that whoever the sneaky coffee stealer was wouldn’t take it again. Bucky yelped and Y/N turned quickly, meeting the sight of a metal-armed supersoldier’s chest and shirt covered in some sort of dark syrup. “Buck, what did you do?”
His lips turned into an adorable frown, metal arm squeaking as he tried to remove the substance from the intricate, golden plates. “I tried to take it out and open it but it just spilled all over me.” Y/N laughed, grabbing towels as his frown turned even deeper. “It’s not funny, I’m all gross now.”
“You were already gross before, Barnes,” he feigned an offended gasp at her little jab as she scrubbed at his arms and tried hard not to gape at his biceps.
“And here I was thinking that we were friends,” he admonished with a wide smile. “What is this crap anyway, it says here… uh, molasses.” Bucky read the word slowly, sounding out each syllable like a kindergartener.
“Ooh, that’s the stuff that makes gingerbread chewy. You should know, grandpa,” Y/N did the best she could to clean him up and patted his arm when her attempts remained fruitless.
“No use, Y/N, ‘m just gonna take my shirt off.”
Well, she certainly wasn't one to object.
With one swift motion, he pulled his tee off, revealing the hours upon hours he put into the ropes of muscle vining up and down his torso. She had to avert her eyes quickly, careful to not ogle him for too long. She had plenty of time to do that during the trainings she was always so late to.
“Let’s get baking,” she distracted herself from his half-naked state, calling out to the A.I. living in their, well, everywhere. “Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y, how many women and children are currently at the Hell’s Kitchen Women’s Shelter?”
“There are currently fifty-four residents in the Hell’s Kitchen Women’s Shelter, sixteen of whom are children. Would you like me to send an email that you and Sergeant Barnes will be dropping by later?”
“That would be lovely, F.R.I.D.A.Y, thank you.” Bucky started pulling out the bins of baking materials from around the kitchen. The two sorted through the groceries pointing out which could be used for making cookies. “Oh, Buck, we could make gingerbread! We have all the ingredients for it anyway.”
Y/N looked so excited, her eyes wide with excitement and lips turned up in the cutest of all smiles. He didn’t stand a chance against the adorable woman. “Whatever you say, chef.” He presented her with an apron matching the one he now wore, a canvas cut one with pretty burnt orange trim. She ducked her head so he could drop the neck of it around her neck, then turned her in a quick motion so he could tie her back.
With the set up instructions from F.R.I.D.A.Y and Bing Crosby’s Christmas album playing softly in the room, they began their gingerbread cookie journey together. Bucky took the baking as no joke, compliant to each and every one of Y/N’s instructions as he marched around the kitchen in his far-too-small apron. If she asked him to grab some milk from the fridge, he was grabbing two cartons. If she asked him to fold in spices to the early stage of dough, he was asking her what the hell folding was. They worked nearly harmoniously, but despite the few bumps in the road due to his inexperience in the kitchen, his heart was jumping with emotions and pure happiness. Peace had never felt so good.
Or maybe it was what Sam liked to call being pussy-whipped.
“What the hell is a clove? Y/N, do we have cloves?” Bucky asked confusedly. Y/N, standing on a tall step stool to access the cabinets, turned around to see him staring at the recipe with furrowed brows, a little crinkle between his eyebrows and a small frown curling his lips. It was a cute sight, watching the old man try to understand the more modern recipe and she’d be lying if she said the heartwarming image didn’t make her a little… possessive of him.
“We have the cloves, Bucky, don’t worry. They’re the mini flower buds that smell really good and we’ve already added clove powder to the dough, shit-”
Y/N, though she was graceful and poised in the battlefield, was nowhere near as poised anywhere else. The stool she stood on to search for ingredients fell off balance, completely toppling to the side and taking her down with it.
Before she could even have time to process what was happening, a pair of muscled arms wrapped underneath her legs and back, holding her up right above the ground. Bucky peered down at her, his blue eyes wide with concern and the most panicked looking expression on his face.
“Are you okay, darlin’?” He asked quietly. Only then did Y/N realize how close they were, his hot breath mixing with hers, lips so close that if she were to tilt her head up just a centimeter, she’d be exactly where she wanted to be. Y/N seemed to search his eyes for some sort of signal, just a sign that he wanted the same thing as her, but his eyes remained blank, yet nonetheless beautiful, and she dejectedly dropped from his hold.
Her legs swung around his arms, setting herself on the floor shaily. “Yeah, um, I’m fine, thank you, Buck.” She sent him a melancholy smile, one that covered up her heart as well as she could. The task of baking cookies felt a lot less lively now, but Y/N just had to push past the waves of rejection that the small moment had created. “We-we’ve already preheated the oven so-”
“Hey, Y/N?” She hummed quietly, turning to him absentmindedly before Bucky’s lips were on hers, his large hands cradling her waist gently as if she were the most delicate thing he’d ever known to his touch. Quickly she pulled away, pressing softly against his chest, and saw that he was just as flushed as she felt, her cheeks burning without a single coherent thought in her mind. Bucky seemed to sense her alarm though, only tightening his firm hold on her, letting her know that he was there. And he was hers. “You’re really fuckin’ pretty.”
There must’ve been a clear change in her demeanor as Bucky smirked, maybe even chuckled, at the awestruck expression on Y/N’s face as he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her again. It was hot and messy this time, her legs nearly damn giving out as she pushed her tongue through his parted lips, eliciting a low groan from the man in front of her, but if this was heaven then she would take hot and messy everyday. Cold fingers found their way around Bucky’s neck, the drag of her nails across his skin making him just that much more crazy about her.
When he finally forced himself to pull away, of course only due to the lack of breath they both had, his left hand came to cradle her face, enjoying the clearer view of her swollen lips and hazy eyes. Her lips lifted upwards for a millisecond before a look of shock came over her features. “You ate some of the cookie dough, you goddamn thief! I knew the batch looked smaller than before, I can taste the damn stuff on you,” she fought a grin off her swollen lips, jabbing a pointer finger into his hard, muscly chest and tried to look upset.
Bucky’s head tilted back with his nose scrunched adorably, his laughter echoing in the small kitchen. “That was the best goddamn kiss of my life and that’s all you have to say? I gave you some of my best work and you’re now accusing me of cookie dough thievery.”
“You can get salmonella from that, you hear me? Salmonella. The chicken egg disease. Then I’d never kiss you again.” Bucky smacked another one on her, the lingering hints of ginger and brown sugar turning her lips upwards as she giggled against him. “But you do taste very, very good. We’re damn expert bakers, handsome.”
He spoke against her intoxicating smile, pressing her chest against his as he lifted her up and onto a very small patch of clean counter. “What about the fact that I like you? A hell of a lot too. That’s gotta count for something.”
She pulled away from him as he nearly whimpered from the loss of her lips on his and hopped down from the counter, beckoning him to the side of the counter that held the dough he’d stolen a bite from earlier. “I could never forget about that, Buck.”
He watched with admiration as she placed her hands on top of his from where he stood behind her, using both of their force to flatten the gingerbread dough with a roller. Bucky’s chin came to rest on her shoulder and he kissed the peak of her cheekbone gently. It was so domestic, two of the most hardcore Avengers baking cookies, something that was a part a real life outside fighting, something that neither of them thought they would ever have in the superhero life. But they found each other, and together, who knew what would be next? “And, Bucky, honey, I think you’re really fuckin’ pretty too.”
#bucky barnes x reader#sebastian stan#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes smut#𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡
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His + Hers
Summary | You didn’t want a bodyguard and certainly didn’t need one. Bucky didn’t want the job. But as soon as the two of you meet, all bets are off.
Pairing | Bucky x Fem!Reader
Word Count | 4.2k
Warnings | language (including light degradation, possessive!Bucky, smut (oral - f receiving, piv) - minors dni or you will be blocked
Masterlists | Bucky, Main
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“I don’t need anyone to watch over me,” rolled eyes and loudly snapped gum. Crossed legs and an anxiously jiggling foot. The aging clock ticked loudly as your gaze burned into the giant dual monitors that shielded the man on the other side. He had just oh so casually dropped some horrible news to you.
What was his name? Jeff? Jeffrey? Jefferson? It didn’t matter. Funny. For a man that you’d seen more often than your father in recent years, you’d think you might have remembered his name. Despite all that you still hadn’t seen him more than four, save five, times.
“Those are your father’s wishes.”
“Then why isn’t he here telling me this?”
“He’s a very busy man.”
“A man too busy to see own daughter, his own child, always work, work, working,” you spat, “what he could be doing that’s so important that he couldn’t even spare me fifteen minutes of his time?”
“He’s-”
“It was a rhetorical question,” you stood up and grabbed your bag, “sometimes it still shocks me that a man that claims he loves me so much he barely speaks to me, sees me. I don’t want this bodyguard - if you send them to me I will simply send them away. Don’t waste my time or theirs.”
“Your father is going to send someone regardless of your wishes, you must know this by now.”
“Tell him if he’s so insistent upon me being chaperoned like a puppy that he can come and talk to me himself,” you threw your shoulders back as you tried to chase away emotions or feelings. This was not the time or place for them, “see you in another six months for so.”
“Miss -”
You slammed the door shut before he could say anything else.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bucky’s groan was heavy - irritated - as he trudged up the stairs to the ninth freaking floor. Of course you couldn’t live somewhere near the bottom. Of course the elevator was broken, “I’m gonna murder you, Wilson.”
Inhaling and exhaling slowly, he calmed himself with every single step. Left foot, right foot, and repeat. Before he knew it, he arrived on your floor, less angry but still annoyed.
Bucky looked around for your apartment number, finding it quickly but wishing he hadn't. It was supposed to be a simple job - hang around you for a little while until things calmed down around your father. There was never any huge threat to you, but you were to be kept safe anyway. Typical rich people, he practically rolled his eyes. Complete idiot, he sighed at himself. He could have walked away from the gig easily, but things had been quiet after everything in New York and he needed something fresh. Naturally he’d say yes to this when Sam mentioned the job to him.
Once he found your apartment he slowly trudged through the hall, his mind all but made up about you already. You were going to be nothing more than a spoiled little brat. He looked at the golden number above your door and sighed heavily before knocking loudly.
For a few moments, nothing but silence met his ears before he finally heard what he was sure was annoyed grumbling inside accompanied by soft footsteps. The door was whipped open and Bucky came face to face with you.
Your brows knitted together as you studied him before crossing your arms over your chest, “can I help you?”
“James Barnes,” his name practically came out as a sigh. You raised your eyebrows at him but remained silent.
“And?” you asked as you moved to close the door, “I’m in the middle of my fifth zoom meeting of the day and annoyed and hungry. Thanks for wasting my time. Have a fantastic day.”
Before you could slam the door in his face, Bucky stuck his foot in the doorway and prevented you from closing it. A huff escaped your lips as you glared at him through the crack, “your father sent me. I’m supposed to look after you.”
“Ahh yes,” you rolled your eyes and frowned, “the baby-sitter my father hired. I told him and his assistant that I don’t want - or need - anything to watch me. I’m fine. So if you don’t mind you can leave. I’m busy and don’t have time to deal with you.”
“You don’t pay me sweetheart,” he scoffed lightly as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. You wanted a challenge? He’d give you one, “and as long as that’s the case, I stay.”
“I’ll double whatever he paid you.”
“Oh honey, I doubt you could ever afford that.”
“What can I do to get you to leave?”
“Nothing.”
“It really doesn’t seem like you want to be here either so why don’t we both do ourselves a favor and cut the shit?”
“Not until your father tells me it’s okay to leave,” he smirked, “I don’t take orders from little girls, sweetheart. Nor do you pay my bills.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“And you’re a bitch,” your mouth opened into a little pout as you attempted to shut the door on his foot, “you can shut the door, it won’t hurt me. I’ll just tear it down if I have to.”
“Are you serious?!”
“Want to find out?” he asked as you threw your head back and sighed at the ceiling. Yes and no. You wanted to push his buttons and see how far you could press. But you also didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Instead you slowly, ever so reluctantly opened the door, refusing to move but motioning for him to come in. He practically sauntered in with a victorious little smirk on his lips, “good girl.”
You were to let him have it when he turned around to face you and finally got the chance to study him. And your jaw almost hit the floor. Fuck.
He was handsome - dark hair and the bluest eyes you’d ever seen with a five o’clock shadow. He was dressed in very well fitting jeans, along with a henley and leather jacket. So casual but he managed to make it look so good. For a moment you thought he looked familiar but you couldn’t quite place. Maybe you’d seen him around somewhere.
Well, this presented a whole new predicament. This would have been so much easier if he hadn’t been one of the most gorgeous men you’d laid eyes on.
“Like what you see?”
“I’m not into old men,” you cocked your head to the side and watched him with a smirk. Bucky almost tripped up and let an emotion slip but instead he remained pointedly neutral as he looked you up and down.
It would have been easier to dislike and hate you entirely if you weren’t so damn cute. You were dressed in a comfy, oversized sweater and joggers and big fuzzy socks - casual and cute but effortlessly so. It was a challenge not to stare.
“Whatever you say,” he held up his hands in mock defeat as you became momentarily placated, “what’s the plan for today?”
“I have a job and things to do,” you huffed as you pushed past him, “so just do something or whatever and stay out of my way. If you insist on being here.”
“I do.”
“This is going to be fucking hell, isn’t it?”
“It can be whatever you want, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart!”
“Sure thing, doll.”
"I hate you already.”
“The feelings’ mutual, honey.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Hating Bucky was a full time job. Bucky having to chaperone you through all of your shenanigans was a full time job. Both of you were incredibly stubborn and damn near made the job impossible.
You'd be lying if it said he wasn't attractive and that you hadn't thought about him. Especially late at night. Alone in bed. But you'd rather die than admit that to him.
Bucky had a feeling he'd break you down eventually; not that he expected anything to come of it. He enjoyed flirting with you and watching you get frazzled and nervous. But you weren't his type. Nuh uh - Bucky Barnes wasn't into pretty little spoiled brats. Even if they weren't attractive and smart and genuinely kind underneath it all.
That wasn't part of the job. Which was why he never let it go past anything that could be deemed as flirtatious.
Just as he vowed to break you down and just admit you liked him, you might have had a little goal of your own…
"Come on," Bucky sighed as he paced around your living room, waiting for you to come out of the bedroom so you could pizza and watch movies. It had become somewhat of a Friday night tradition, reluctantly so. It was hard to get out and have a lot of fun when you had a silent, intimidating brooding man following you around, "how long does it take to change?"
"Shut up," you rolled your eyes as you opened your bedroom door and stepped out, slipping on your heels, "I'm ready."
Bucky's eyes widened as he looked you over. You were wearing a little black dress and fuck me heels along with ruby red lips and a full face of makeup. He fought back a little growl as you smirked at him, "what the fuck are you wearing?"
"Its called a dress, genius."
"To get pizza so we can come back and watch movies?"
"That's not the plan," you straightened up and walked past him, grabbing your purse and jacket.
"You said-"
"I lied," you stated the obvious, "I'm going out to finally have some fun. Without you."
"I'm coming with you," he crossed his arms over his broad chest as you tried not to stare, "that's the job, sweetheart."
"And I'd like to actually have fun and get laid," you threw your hands up, "its hard to do that with you breathing down my neck constantly! If you insist, can you at least like stay ten feet away. Give me a fucking break."
His breath had hitched in his throat as soon as he heard the words get laid and he worked to keep it together. He sighed as he forced himself not to imagine you underneath, naked and begging for more.
"Fine," he agreed reluctantly, "ten feet only."
"Thank fuck."
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
One drink had turned into two which easily turned into three and after that you’d both lost count. Bucky had been sitting at the bar, a singular, but arbitrary drink in his hand as he watched you get progressively looser as the evening wore on. His steely gaze almost never left yours as he watched you chat up people around you. You were naturally extroverted, and definitely a flirt - but then again maybe that was the alcohol - and it wore Bucky out trying to keep an eye on you. He wasn’t terribly concerned about what was going on, but still, he was a man that took his job seriously.
It wasn’t until he decided that it was fine to let you out of his sight for a few moments only to turn back and found you missing. A growl bubbled up in his throat as he scanned the tightly packed pace and found you in the middle of the dance floor. You were pressed against a man that had been eyeing you up since you’d gotten there, mouths smashed together as you kissed him like your life depended on it. Your arms were wrapped around his neck and his hands were on your ass the entire time.
As soon as you ground up against him, something in Bucky snapped. He threw back the rest of his drink and quickly made his way over to you. The people in his path parted like the seas when they noticed the predatory expression in his eyes. Before you could even realize what had happened, you felt a hand tightly squeeze your shoulder. A gasp left your lips as Bucky pulled you away from your newfound friend.
“What the fuck!” you glared at him as the man that just had his hands all over you grew visibly nervous. Bucky grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him close, “Bucky!”
“Keep your filthy fuckin’ hands off of her, you understand?” he growled at the man as he just nodded, “I ever see you near her again and you’re dead. You leave my girl alone.”
Bucky shoved him away and the man practically skittered across the bar and out the door without so much as a single glance back. Breathing angrily, he turned around to find you staring at him in awe, arms over your chest. You were suddenly incredibly sober, “what the hell was that? I’m not your fucking girl, Bucky.”
“We’re going home. Now,” he reached for your hand and held your wrist in a tight grip as he dragged you without another word. You wanted to argue with him and fight back, but there was something about his possessive nature that had sent a shiver down your spine and a rush of warmth to your core as you let him pull you along like a ragdoll.
Maybe your dangerous little plan was finally going to turn into reality.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“Are you going to finally tell me what’s going on?” you asked as you walked back into your apartment, trailing after Bucky and slamming the door shut, “you chased off my only chance of-”
Before you could say anything else, Bucky’s hands found your waist and he crashed his lips onto yours in a bruising tangle of tongue and teeth. You responded with a surprised moan as he backed you up against the wall, making sure you didn’t hit your head.
“He’s a fuckin’ boy,” he insisted as he lightly gripped your throat, causing you to part your lips as you fought back a moan, “he wouldn’t have made you cum. Probably doesn’t even know where your pretty little clit is.”
“And you would?” you challenged, already knowing exactly where this was leading. Something in your mind told you that this was wrong and you should have stopped it, but the larger part of you really just wanted him. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it for weeks and weeks now, touching yourself late at night to the thought of him. Bucky smiled at you - a dangerous, toothy, wicked thing causing you to swallow thickly, “I don’t think you could. You’re all talk, Bucky. Probably haven’t even been laid since the 40s.”
“Don’t act like you don’t want this too, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear before trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin, making it a point to mark you up. That way everyone would know you were his. He rutted his lips lightly against yours, and you could already feel how hard he was, “I see the way you look at me - I know you’ve thought about me. Probably touched that pretty pussy of yours and wished it was my cock, huh little girl?”
“Bucky,” his name was nothing more than a whimper of your lips as you tried to reach down and touch yourself. He was quick to grab your hand and pull it away. You whimpered as he just chuckled darkly. Oh, how easily he could break you down with just a few words, “please. Need you.”
“I’ll give you what you need,” he swore as he watched you with hungry eyes. He shimmied up your dress and moved to touch you. His smirk only grew when he noticed you’d forgone panties, “look at you, such a little slut. You didn’t even put on panties? You really wanted this, didn’t you? Were you just hoping I’d touch you? I bet you had this whole thing planned out - just wanted me to fuck you, didn’t you?”
You looked at him with wide doe eyes but remained silent as you tried to play coy. But he was having none of it, and grabbing your jaw, “answer me.”
“Mhmm..,just want you,” you admitted as he slowly let go before grabbing both of your wrists in his vibranium hand and pinning them above your head, “just touch me.”
And he did - slowly, he dragged his fingers through your folds, smirking at how wet you already were, “oh honey, you’re practically dripping. So wet already, and I’ve barely even touched you. Such a good little slut.”
Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of him circling your clit slowly before feeling your soaked folds and sliding a thick finger inside. A small sound of surprise reached his ears as you almost rutted into his hand and he easily slid another finger in. The stretch from his fingers was enough to spark the warmth in your belly as you bit your lip to keep from whining.
“Look at you, such a needy little thing,” you could hear the smirk in his voice as he fucked with his fingers, “but you’re not going to cum on my fingers. I’m going to see if you taste as sweet as you look. Gonna make ruin that pussy for anyone else. You’re mine - you understand?”
“‘m yours,” you whimpered as he let go of your hands and slowly sank to his knees in front of you. His large hands, a contrast of warm and cool, splayed on your thighs before slowly traveling up to your hips and grabbing them in a bruising grasp. This man was really working to make sure he would remain all over you. He pressed a few kisses to your thighs before stopping at your mound, and you could feel his warm breath fanning across on your pussy, “please.”
“That’s right, you can be a good girl,” he didn’t even hesitate for a moment before diving in and licking a stripe up your folds, causing sparks to shoot throughout your spine. You could feel him smirking against you at the immediate effect he had as he ate you out like a man starving.
Bucky Barnes was not a shy man when it came to eating pussy. He licked and suckled on your clit as he let two of his cool vibranium fingers slide into your pussy. He crooked them just right, effortlessly finding your g-spot as your knees threatened to buckle. No one man had ever made you feel this good before, nor so easily.
“F-fuck,” you hissed as he pulled back and look at the blissed out expression on your face, “more please.”
“Look at you pretty little thing,” he grinned as he pressed a few wet, sloppy kisses to your mound. He pulled his fingers from you before reaching up and practically ripping your dress off. If you’d hadn’t been so close to cumming, you would have yelled at him, but in the moment you didn’t care. Especially not as his hands found your breasts and massaged them before he played with your pert nipples, causing you to arch into his touch, “not wearing a bra either. You are bad.”
“‘m so close,” you whined as he just smirked at you. Before you could say anything else he slapped your pussy, causing you to jump slightly before you keened into his touch, silently asking for more.
“You like that, honey?” he teased as you nodded with closed eyes, your mouth forming a small o. He repeated the motion before he grabbed your ass and buried his face back into your pussy. You moaned into his touch, bucking your hips against his mouth as he made all the most sinful noises as he ate you out like his life depended it on. He worked pure magic with only his tongue and he soon had you seeing stars as your legs started to shake around him. He anchored you to him and kept you from falling down as he brought on your orgasm, “that’s it honey. You’re going to cum all over my face, going to taste all that pretty pussy has to offer.”
“F-f-fuck,” you reached down and carded a hand through his dark hair as you held him against you, “jesus.”
“Cum for me,” he commanded and you did just as you were told, crying out his name like a prayer as you felt your release wash over you. Bucky stayed between your legs as you came all over him, cleaning up every little bit you had, not stopping until you were begging him to stop from the over stimulation, “tastes like fuckin’ candy. Best pussy I ever tasted.”
“Jesus,” your chest was heaving as he kissed his way up your body. He stopped at your lips and offered you a victorious little smirk, “you’re an asshole but at least you know how to eat pussy.”
He grabbed your chin in his hand and forced you to look at him, “you’re mine - this pussy is mine and no one else’s, you understand, little brat?”
“Ruin me then,” you raised your eyebrows before you kissed him again, trying to beat him at his own little game. But it was no use - he was easily more dominant and held control over you, “make me yours.”
“Turn around,” he growled as he flipped you in his arms and pressed you against the wall. You moaned as his hands mapped out every curve of your body before you felt the sharp sting of his hand on your ass. Just to spur him on a little more, you bounced your ass and he slapped you a few more times before massaging your skin to soothe the pain, “you like it when it hurts. God, you’re perfect. My little slut.”
“Please fuck me. Need you so bad,” you practically whined but quickly grinned when you heard him undo his belt and pants before he pulled his cock out. He groaned in your ear as you heard him stroke himself a few times.
“‘m so fucking hard, baby,” he ran the tip of his cock through your folds and you could already feel how big he was, “got me leakin’ already. Thought about you and that smart little mouth so many times. Always cum so hard when I think about you. Can’t wait to see how good this pussy feels squeezing my cock. You’re going to take all of me, little thing.”
He coated his length with your arousal - you were already so wet again - before slapping his cock against your ass. You tried to reach around so you could touch him but he slapped your hand out of the way.
“Put your cock in me,” you practically begged and before you could say anything else, he plunged into you, causing you to practically scream in surprise. He didn’t stop until he was fully sheathed inside of you, feeling like he was practically splitting you apart. The burn quickly faded away as you moaned and clenched your walls around him, “fuck, you’re so big.”
“Did you expect anything else, pretty baby?” he whispered in your ear before grabbing your hips again. He slowly pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back into you with no warning. You clawed at the wall as he set a brutal pace, slamming his hips into yours over and over again, letting you have almost no room to breath. The only sounds that left your lips were small whimpers and mewls he fucked you to an inch of your life.
You felt the coolness of the vibranium snake around your body before he found your clit. You let him press you against the wall as he pounded into you, and you quickly left your second orgasm start to bubble up in your tummy.
“Taking my cock so well,” he praised as he slowly played with your clit. He was not shy about being loud and moaning, all while murmuring filthy praise into your ear, “so tight - so perfect. This pussy was made for me.”
“More,” you begged in between breaths, “harder, please.”
“You want it harder, pretty baby? You’re not gonna be walkin’ after this,” he smirked before he picked the pace and fucked you even harder than before, which you hadn’t even thought possible, “good girl. Good fuckin’ girl. Gonna cum all over my cock?”
“Mhmm,” you agreed with a wistful smile, a fucked out expression on your face as you felt his cock twitch inside of you as your walls started to clench around him, “please, please, please.”
“Gonna fill you up,” he said through gritted teeth as he slowed his thrusts, making them slower and deeper than before, “gonna make sure you know who you belong to.”
It was a few more thrusts before you came again, crying out as the pleasure rippled through your body. Bucky came quickly after, grunting as he came inside of you, filling you up with hot ropes of his cum. He fucked you through it all, not stopping until you were feeling boneless and he had filled you with every last drop.
He easily caught you just as you were about to collapse in his arms and pulled you against his chest as he pressed a few kisses to your shoulder. You reached behind you and carded a hand through his arm, scratched at his scalp as he continued to kiss your neck and shoulder.
“Fuck, Bucky,” you said as you tried to catch your breath, “that was incredible.”
“I told you I’d ruin every other man for you,” he slowly pulled out and turned you around so you were facing him. You put a hand under your chin and turned your face up to his, “you’re mine.”
“I’m your girl,” it was like music to his ears as you reached between your thighs and swiped his cum mixed with your arousal up and sucked it clean off your finger, “my pussy is yours and your cock is mine.”
“Good girl, “ he praised with a wicked smile, “now get on your knees and put that pretty mouth to use.”
“Yes sir.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
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IᑎᖴᗩTᑌᗩTIOᑎ
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ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) Hiya! Could you do smth where the reader is masturbating in her room thinking about Bucky. When then Bucky sneaks in your room hiding from Sam chasing him, he hears you moaning his name and gets flushed but instead of leaving he decides to help you out and show you that the real thing is better than imagining it ? :)) and maybe his POV too ? ☺️ thank you dear. I’d really crave some soft Bucky smut atm.
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Smut!! Minors dni plz, fluff, soft!dom bucky
ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: thanks for the request; this was supposed to be a blurb but it’s like three thousand words omggg i can’t stopp nfviuapfgvaioufv
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“Where is he?” Sam grabbed the counter and shouted startling the people gathered in the kitchen. Steve spilled his coffee, Wanda threw her apples, and Tony choked on his cereal milk coming out of his nose.
“Who!” Steve said angrily.
“Buck!” Sam growled.
“We don’t fucking know!” Tony yelled as Pepper cleaned him up with a napkin. Sam bolted out of the kitchen down the hall scanning for the soldier.
“Where are you, you fucking metal-armed freak!” he screamed.
Bucky on the other hand had slipped easily past your door; just barely cracking it to see an angry Sam Wilson stomping through the hall in search of Bucky. What for? Well, Sam has this fear roaches; he hates them, absolutely despises even the thought of a cockroach.
Bucky printed and cut out the silhouette of a huge cockroach and taped it to the inside of Sam’s bedside lamp so that when he sticks his hand under the shade, he’ll see the fake roach and hopefully scream in terror; well that was more than successful. Now Sam wanted to beat the shit of him for ruining his morning.
Sam was soon out of sight and Bucky breathed out a breath of relief closing the door completely; locking it just in case Sam tries to come into your room looking for him. You and Bucky were very close, almost too close as Steve would say. He was found with you in your room a lot, whether it’d be playing video games, or eating lunch while watching TV, or listening to music that Bucky missed out on.
He was in your room a lot so he knew you wouldn’t mind the unexpected visit. After you knew about his little prank; you would die of laughter if he told you about Sam’s reaction. Before Bucky turned around, he heard you.
“Buck,” you breathed out.
Bucky’s brows furrowed and when he turned around…
“Holy shit.”
ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴇᴀʀʟɪᴇʀ
“He’s gonna kill you,” you grinned at Bucky. He sat next to you with a pair of scissors in hand cutting out the black silhouette of that god awful roach.
“So worth it,” he smirked.
“You didn’t answer my question though, doll. Why are you up so early? Pretty girls like you need their beauty rest,” he nudged your arm with elbow, making you roll your eyes.
“I just couldn’t sleep. Was tossing and turning all night,” you told him.
“You know my bed is always available for cuddles that'll put you right to sleep,” he winked at you.
“You wish,” you retorted.
“Every night,” he said, making you feel shy.
Bucky smirked to himself knowing how his words affected you. It was no secret that was deeply infatuated with you; but you always declined his advances and he respected that always. But that didn’t mean he stopped his endless flirting; never failed to make you laugh.
“You’re so pretty,” he smiled at you.
“Shut up, Buck,” you shook your head, “I’m gonna head back to my room; try and get some shut eye for at least twenty minutes. Let me know how your little prank goes.”
“Will do.”
You shut your bedroom door and crawled languidly into your bed. You close your eyes and in doing so you’re met with those gorgeous cerulean blue eyes that haunted you every night. You immediately pop back up.
Goddammit, Bucky.
Fuck you and striking eyes. Fuck you and your perfect nose. Fuck you and kissable lips. And strong arms. And your hands, oh your hands… Stop!
Your body erupted into goosebumps and your stomach fluttered just at the thought of him. Fuck the things you’d let him do to you. Why haven't you, you ask? Well he asked you on a date and thinking it was some sort of bet with Sam, because men are assholes and it wouldn’t be the first that happened, you kindly declined.
The next day, Sam and Steve both said they didn’t know he was gonna ask you and had nothing to do with it. So you bolted to Bucky’s room only to find another woman curled to his side in his bed.
“Y/n,” Bucky’s eyes were wide with guilt.
“Hey, uh- I uh, I just wanted to ask um- what you wanted… for breakfast. I’m buying,” you breathed out a nervous chuckle.
“I’m ok-” As soon as you heard those words you bolted out of his room hearing him call your name. You weren’t particularly pissed off, or enraged but it kinda hurt.
Since then however, you don’t think you have seen Bucky even talk to another woman; even at one of Tony’s galas. And he always flirted and joked with you, even more this time than before. You weren’t going to lie, you both loved it and hated it. It gave you confidence while also ruining your panties with just a smile.
Speaking of ruined panties.
You tossed your sheets over and shimmied out of your pajama bottoms. You took your panties off too pulling one side back to shoot it into the laundry basket since those were going to be in desperate need of a wash.
You licked your fingers before pressing them against your burning pussy. You bit your lip stifling your moans as you circled your clit. You imagined Bucky’s hand instead of yours and you imagined him whispering dirty things in your ear.
Your other hand went under your shirt and kneaded your breast softly. You clenched your thighs together approaching your orgasm quickly when suddenly you were a loud scream echo in the building.
You instantly retracted your hand for a second remembering that Bucky had his little prank; Sam clearly found out now. But you soon put that aside and continued thinking about Bucky. He was so perfect; how could anyone look at him and not fall in love? He was so handsome and charming. And his physique. Holy hell, you would give anything to run your hands all over his muscled torso. Kiss up and down his chest and tell him how beautiful he was.
You wanted him pressed against you rutting his hips into you like there was no tomorrow. You wanted to feel his fingers touch you the way you're touching yourself right now thinking about him. You wanted to hear him groan and moan in your ear. You wanted all of him.
“Buck,” you finally moaned out.
“Y/n?”
“Oh god, Buck!” you shrieked grabbing your sheets to cover your modesty.
“Sorry, I uh- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to barge in,” he stuttered covering his eyes.
“Why are you in here?” you asked him.
“Sam is chasing me and I sought refuge here,” he said.
“You can open your eyes; I’m decent now,” you mumbled.
Bucky slowly brought his hands down looking at you with a guilty expression. He walked up to your bed and sat hesitantly beside you. Your knees were tucked into you and your arms wrapped around them protectively. Heat crawled up your spine and you felt sweaty and embarrassed to be caught so vulnerably, especially by the man whose name you were moaning.
“I’m so sorry,” you said, avoiding his gaze.
“Don’t be, we all do it.”
“I know it’s- it’s still embarrassing,” you mumbled.
“Because?” you stayed silent not really wanting to say it out loud.
“Because you were thinking about me?” Bucky crawled closer to you pulling the sheet from your bare legs gracefully. Your breathing quicken rapidly, your chest heaving up and down.
“You know, I uh- I think about you too; all the time,” he whispered as he dragged his knuckles up your lower leg.
“You don’t have to imagine anymore. I’m right here. Just say the words and I’ll give everything,” he was so close; his fingertips ghosting the sides of your thighs.
“Bucky,” you breathed against his lips, “No, stop.”
Bucky instantly backed away, retracting his hands. He looked at you with confusion and you avoided his gaze once again.
“Buck, I know you just want to sleep with me-”
“Woah what! Did Sam tell you that? Fucking asshole, I’m gonna kill him,” Bucky got up but you pulled his hand back so he’d sit down again.
“No, you- ugh. When you asked me out, a long time ago, I thought you were doing a bet or something with Sam; so I said no to avoid any humiliation. I told Sam and he said he didn’t even know about it, that he had nothing to do with it. So I went to your room to tell you that I liked you back but you were… ‘busy’,” you explained.
Bucky casted his eyes and head down remembering that day vividly. He knew exactly what happened. He asked you out and when you said no he was crushed. He asked Thor if he had any mead with him; it was the only thing that could get him drunk. And he got on a bike and booked it to the closest nightclub.
Bucky finished Thor’s flask and he doesn’t even remember what happened that night. He woke up the next morning with someone in his bed and he freaked. He knew he fucked up and he regretted going out. Suddenly you barged through the door with a beautiful smile on your face but when you saw his unwanted guest, all the sparkle in your face died.
He didn’t see you the rest of the day and it killed him. The woman was nice and actually was very understanding so at least he had that going for him. From that day on Bucky didn’t even look at any other women, let alone give them an ounce of attention. His eyes were simply set on you in hopes one day you’d give him a second chance.
“I’m so sorry, Y/n. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I know I fucked up and if you want me to leave, I will.”
“I’m not mad, we’re not together and you have every right to do that. It just kinda hurt that you moved on so fast,” you chuckled a bit.
“I didn’t! I… I just fucked up. I still want you, not just your body; even though you’re so fucking sexy,” he reached out and squeezed your thigh making you grin, as hard as you tried not to.
“I still think about you all the time. You’re so funny, and beautiful, and sexy, did I mention how sexy you are?” he said, making you laugh.
“Maybe once or twice,” you giggled.
“I don’t want you thinking that I’m using you. I like you a lot. And I know you like me,” he raised his eyebrow making you sheepish.
“Sorry about that again,” you chuckled.
“Don’t be. I can show the real thing instead, all you have to do is say the word,” he brushed his nose against yours. It was so tempting. He was just so irresistible. So all hell went out the window and you caved.
“Please,” you whispered.
Bucky pressed his lips languidly against yours, as if he’d done so a thousand times before. His hand slipped up your inner thigh and you gasped softly into Bucky’s mouth. He pushed his tongue in, swirling it around your and your neck craned back as he kissed you deeper.
His knuckles brushed your wet folds and you shuddered under his touch. His lips trailed down to your jaw and neck as his fingers stroked your folds circled your entrance. You laid back staring up at Bucky who quickly got rid of his shirt before bringing his finger back down to your pussy.
He slowly inserted a finger past your slick folds carfeully watching your face and the pleasure that was overcasted. You bit your lip staring into his eyes and Bucky grew hard simply from that. He pumped his finger in and out of you feeling your thighs wanting to press together from bliss.
“Bucky, please I need more,” you whined.
“Of course, my baby,” he smiled before adding another finger into your entrance. You moaned through gritted teeth feeling already full with just his fingers, you couldn’t imagine his cock. Your shirt had slowly ridden up exposing your belly. Bucky leaned down and kissed your skin, his lips feeling cold in contrast to your hot skin.
Bucky breathed heavy at the sight of you. You were so beautiful and Bucky felt his heart swell. He’s been pining after you for so long and now you were finally here writhing under him in ecstasy.
“You look so perfect, baby,” he whispered.
“Fuck, Bucky, your fingers feel so good,” you brushed your hands through his hair.
“Yeah, you wanna cum? You cum all over my fingers?”
“Yes! Please let me cum,” you arched your chest to the air.
“Come on, my baby. Let go.” You gushed all over his hand, your body spasming as you orgasmed.
“So fucking pretty,” Bucky removed his fingers and brought them up to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean. You moaned at the sight of him licking his fingers and you pulled him into a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue.
Bucky stood up and discarded his pants quickly grabbing his cock. He walked to you and you replaced his hand with your slowly moving up and down his shaft. You circled your thumb over his swollen tip and you could feel his body tremble in your hand.
“Fucking tease, aren’t ya,” he grabbed your jaw and you smiled cheekily.
He pulled your shirt off your body and his hands instantly went to your breasts, squeezing and pinching making you moan. His erection stood tall against your thigh and you grew needy for him.
“Please, baby. Please, I need you,” you held his face.
“I gotcha, don’t worry. I’m gonna take real good care of my baby. I’m here,” Bucky whispered in your ear.
He slowly pushed into you, his cock stretching you out. You whimpered at the feelin, never having felt so full before. Bucky kissed the skin below your ear as he slowly bottomed out. He stayed that way for a moment and soon you started wiggling your hips desperately asking him to move but he wouldn’t.
“Stop moving, doll. I just wanna feel ya,” he kept his face buried in your neck.
“Bucky,” you breathed out.
“I know baby, you’re fucking tight. Squeezing me already too,” he chuckled.
You continued letting out whines and whimpers and Bucky’s heart nearly exploded. He propped himself on his elbows looking lovingly down at you and moved his hips back before pushing back in. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. Bucky kissed you senselessly, moaning deeply into your mouth. His hips thrusted wildly in and out of you, making your toes curled.
“Fuck, baby girl. You’re taking me so well; such a pretty baby,” he praised.
You couldn’t form proper words; everything fell from your lips when you tried. Bucky is completely ruining you. Rutting into your hips, surely to leave bruises, he grazed your g spot perfectly pulling loud moans from you everytime.
“Ya feel that? Feel how deep I’m fucking this perfect little pussy?” Bucky grabbed your hand placing it on your lower stomach where you could feel his cock poking your hand with each thrust.
“Fuck, baby. You’re fucking me so fucking good, I’m gonna cum,” yoou whimpered.
“Say my name when you do baby. I want everyone in this goddamn building to know you’re mine,” his hips became sporadic.
“Oh fuck; James!” you chanted his real name, surprising Bucky. He wanted you to say ‘Buck’ like you always do but hearing his first name fall from your lips, he only ever wanted to hear you say it reminding him of this very moment forever.
“Fucking hell, baby,” he grunted before spilling inside you. He coated your velvety walls with his hot cum and that was enough to make you fall off the edge too. Your eyes rolled back and your nails dragged harshly down his back. You protruded your chest up to his and Bucky could feel your perked nipples on his skin.
He watched you with pure infatuation. Your face quickly relaxed to a tired and bliss expression. You breathed heavily out trying to settle your breathing. Bucky looked at your lips and captured them on his own one last time before running to your bathroom to clean you up.
“You are so beautiful, my baby,” he whispered.
“Fuck, that was so good,” you said fervorly, pulling his flush against your body by his neck.
“And it’s-” he was interrupted by your phone ringing beside you.
“It’s Steve,” you told him before looking at the time at the top left of your screen. You were twenty minutes late to your morning session with Steve. You gasped covering your mouth with your hand in shock.
“I’m late to my early sesh with Steve,” you laughed hysterically.
“Here, let me,” Bucky grabbed your phone sitting up to talk to Steve.
“Buck no,” you crawled behind him trying to grab your phone but not having the energy to chase his hand.
“Hey, Y/n’s busy.”
You heard a muffled voice, “Doing what, Buck?”
“Sucking my dick,” he said with absolute no hesitation.
“Buck!” you snatched the phone from his hand.
“Sorry, Steve. I got a bit… distracted. I promised I’ll make it up,” you told him.
“First of all, gross. Second of all, I’m happy for you two; you’re good together,” he said.
“Thanks, Stevie. I’ll see ya later.”
“Stevie?” Bucky asked, unamused.
“Oh shut up, Buck. You just embarrassed me telling him I was sucking your dick,” you nudged him.
“You don’t want to suck my dick?”
“Ugh Buck!” you buried your face in your hands.
“Of course I do,” you said, making Bucky tackle you down pressing kisses all over your face.
“Well, this was quite an eventful morning,” he joked.
“It sure was. What do you think happened with Sam?”
---
“And he put a roach in my lampshade,” Sam cried, actual tears. Nat was trying her absolute hardest to not laugh as was Wanda; gripping onto each other’s arms in hysteria.
“It’s ok, Sam,” Steve soothed him rubbing his back.
“God, where’s Y/n? We were supposed to start training twenty minutes ago,” Steve grumbled, staring at his watch.
“Call her,” Tony said.
Steve stepped aside and Sam continued to cry telling them how he chased him and he knew he ran into your room but it was locked. Nat and Wanda looked at each other grinning like idiots hoping what they think happened happened. Steve came back with a soft proud smile on face.
“What happened with Y/n?” Tony asked.
“She uh, she had to cancel, but it’s cool,” he looked at the girls who smiled knowingly.
“She’s with Bucky isn’t she,” Sam grunted.
“Yeah, yeah she is,” Steve said, making Sam cry again because he’s not gonna be able to beat the shit of Bucky anymore.
====================
ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)
@mathletemadison
@buckybarnes101
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#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fluff#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes smut#sebastian stan smut#marvel fics#marvel smut
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✨ All fics are complete! ✨
He Loves Me Cause I’m Cute, He Thinks I’m Pretty Funny | 2588 words 📱
He watches it back one more time after it posts, checking for typos in his subtitles and captions, and has to laugh again.
Steve fucking Rogers? His brain thought he could pull Captain America, literal superhero and America’s favorite sweetheart?
“Hello I’m a 35 year old amputee living in New York and I think that I could get Steve Rogers.”
OR
the one where bucky posts a tiktok and steve is utterly smitten.
Summer Slipped Us Underneath Her Tongue | 10712 words 🧳
Bucky is a tour guide who enjoys sharing the rich history and culture of each city they pass through with a bunch of early-20's college students who just want to know the cheapest place to get drunk.
Except for Steve, who asks Bucky for a personal tour around his hometown.
The rest is, as they say, history.
You Make My Heart Skip A Beet | 3853 words 🧑🏼🍳
“I made soda bread.”
Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.”
The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”
Ollie Meets Bagel | 5517 words 🥯
He was a skater boy, Steve said let's get bagels, boy.
Steve wants to start doing this twenty-first century thing properly. He gets help in the form of skateboarding, skateboarders, bagels, and Sam Wilson.
Taxi | 5113 words 🚕
Bucky Barnes was, he hoped, a good taxi driver.
He's so good, he actually tries to return lost property that ends up left in his car and... well. It has some unexpected consequences involving a National Icon.
Enough said.
Leg Day | 12157 words 🏋️♂️
“So talk to him,” Sam says.
“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”
“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."
(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)
Love In Aisle Four | 2127 words 🛍️
When Bucky needs to swing by the supermarket after a long, hard day of work, the last thing he expects is to meet a cute grocery clerk named Steve…
Coming Up Easy | 45515 words ✍🏻
“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”
While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.
"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."
“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”
“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”
Anywhere The Wind Blows | 8845 words 👨🚒🎖️
After a catastrophic fire that shakes him to his core, Steve Rogers quits his job as a Brooklyn firefighter and relocates to a cabin in the remote Canadian wilderness, wanting quiet and solitude and to maybe never have to speak to another human being ever again. He gets his wish, more or less, until a recently injured Bucky Barnes is discharged from the Army and rents the cabin next door.
The Safer Course | 7918 words | Part 1 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡
When Steve moves to the suburbs in 2033, he intends to retire from superhero life.
He does not intend to fall in love with his pain-in-the-ass neighbor.
Every Year I Have You | 7064 words | Part 2 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡
Steve set the bar pretty high, as birthday presents go.
Bucky is determined to outdo him when July 4th comes around.
Beneath The Mistletoe | 21203 words 🎄
Bucky had a bet with his sister that if he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas by the time he was 25, he had to give her $200 and go blonde for a year. But now he's 25, it’s nearing December, and not only is Bucky as single as ever, but he’s also running low on cash. He doesn’t exactly want to bleach his hair, either.
At least Steve is willing to upgrade their relationship from best friends to fake boyfriends.
The Settler | 52203 words 🍞
“What do you want to do?”
Steve pauses and looks at them.
What he wants is to stay with them. He doesn't have any family left, they all died before he even joined the war and became... this. Captain America turned whatever he is now. But Natasha and Sam have become his family over the years. Not just because they're on the run together, fugitives and vigilantes, but way before that too.
He doesn't want to leave that.
But he knows that, realistically, he can't stay with them and they can't stay with him.
So he looks at them with a smile and lies. “I don't know.”
OR; In which Steve retires and finally finds a place to call home.
You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory | 1148 words 🐈
"Alright, Bucky," Steve slows his steps, watches his neighbour stop at the bottom of the next flight of stairs. There's a canvas bag in his hand that Steve didn't notice earlier, cream coloured with the figure of a sleeping, black cat painted on it. "Have a good day."
He thinks Bucky's cheeks pink up a bit right then and there, but Steve can't tell. He's too distracted by his pounding, foolish heart, by the way Bucky smiles bashfully, and ducks his head. The way he seems like he wants to stay.
To Believe In Tomorrow | 3959 words 👨🏻🌾
Bucky's mornings at the community garden get a little more interesting when the new guy shows up.
Maybe This Christmas | 24873 words | Part 1 of Maybe ❄️
Bucky’s not going home for Christmas. But it’s fine. He’s spending Christmas alone in his apartment, but it’s cool. He’s not feeling up to seeing his family after his accident anyway, plus he has to work. He’s totally fine with it. But then he runs into Steve, literally, and suddenly his Christmas isn’t looking so empty after all.
-----
Hurrying was a bad idea. Bucky’s foot hits a patch of ice and slides out from under him in what would have been a comical cartoon banana-peel-like trip, if it wasn’t happening to him, and he braces himself to hit the ground. This is going to hurt.
“Fuck,” Bucky screeches, but as he lands on his back, it’s not the cold hard concrete he expected, but a solid mass beneath him. Oh god, Bucky thinks as he realises he smacked into the person behind him and took them down with him.
Maybe This Year (Will Be Better Than Last) | 133868 words | Part 2 of Maybe ❄️
Last year, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers. Well actually, he slipped and fell on him. What followed was the best Christmas either of them had ever had. But what happens when Christmas is over and life returns to normal? What happens after the Christmas miracle?
-----
Bucky should have known. He did know. When things seem too good to be true, they usually are. And Steve is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, possibly ever, so of course it couldn’t last.
Maybe This Time (I Hope I Get The Chance To Say Goodbye) | 34561 words | Part 3 of Maybe ❄️
Steve and Bucky Barnes are happily married. They've made it through some hard times and come out stronger and happier, together. Then Steve gets called on to come out of retirement for the most important mission of his life and everything changes. Everything.
-----
“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” Steve starts singing along softly, and Bucky chuckles, before leaning his head onto Steve’s shoulder, always happy when he’s in Steve’s arms.
“From now on, our troubles will be miles away…” Bucky joins in.
Dancing round their living room, just as in love as ever, their troubles seem light-years away, if not non-existent.
Sadly, they’re closer than they think.
The Unexpected Gift | 9504 words | Part 1 of When Winter Comes 🐕
Steve Rogers is fine.
After ending a long-term relationship with Sam Wilson, Steve moves back to New York. He's tired and lonely but depressed? No. At least, that's what he thinks.
From the window of his apartment, he watches a dark-haired man and his service dog sitting in the park, wondering what his story is.
The Winter Storm | 2218 words | Part 2 of When Winter Comes 🐕
"If I could give you one thing in life, I would give you the ability you see yourself through my eyes, only then would you realize how special you are to me."
After Bucky and Steve confessed their feelings for each other, life has its own twisted way to challenge the most profound love.
One January Night | 4213 words | Part 3 of When Winter Comes 🐕
Before going back to work, Steve Rogers still has things to learn: 1- Depression is a bitch and the battle against it isn't an easy one. 2- Dating a person with disabilities comes with its share of challenges.
Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (And Other Lies He Tells Himself) | 14159 words 🔒
You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what.
But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.
Obvious | 917 words ☕
"Oh, I have a prompt! So, it makes me laugh how painfully obvious Steve and Bucky's feelings are to everyone when they're in that pining, slowburn, does-he-doesn't-he phase. But imagine Steve and Bucky working in a coffee shop together and constantly bickering, nudging and playfully flirting with each other. And all the employees and patrons are so invested in their relationship and just want them to kiss already but no one realizes that Steve and Bucky have been married since they got out of HS."
#stucky#steve rogers/bucky barnes#bucky barnes/steve rogers#stucky fics#stucky fic#stucky fic rec#stucky fic recs#stucky fics rec#stucky fics recs#stucky fan fiction#stucky fiction#stucky ao3#stucky complete#stucky au#adorable stucky fics
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shut in [14]
Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)
Warnings: anxiety, violence, guns, death, ptsd, swearing, abuse
Word count: 6.3k
A/N: last chapter you guys :’’’’) im too emo about a fanfic i s2g. there’s an epilogue but this is the official last chapter.
i really appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!
Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist
You had only heard of the warehouse before, never actually seen it.
Its reputation preceded it. It was only mentioned in passing as a place for the worst of the worst.
It was murky and smelled like rust, concrete and rotting corpses. You had no doubt a few of them would be littering the place. A few tube lights shone over you graciously like a spotlight, barely illuminating the area.
The room you were in was utterly silent. The only exception were noises outside the door; loud shouts and clanging of metal. You assumed it to be people in the other rooms. Your assessment on how tight the ropes were coiled around you earned a few grunts and odd squeaks, but nothing major.
You were bound to a chair, of course, with knots you had used before on others. It felt like a convoluted form of irony. It was firmly nailed to the ground to prevent you from using it against captors. You were gagged; pretty well, by the look of it.
A noise from beside you threw you off track. A quick look to your left and you found Sam in a similar predicament. He shook his head slightly, implying that it was useless to find an opening. At least he was alive and breathing.
“Are you done?” A voice came from behind you, echoing within the four walls. “I really want to get going and you’re taking too long.”
You knew who it was. It was impossible for you to mistake it at this point.
“Don’t mind the noise outside. We’re just torturing a bunch of people to death.”
You roll your eyes out of sheer instinct. The footsteps slowly moved towards the front of the room, heavy and deliberate. The expensive material of his suit shone under the light as he edged in front of you. Only he’d wear Armani to a murder.
The dramatic fuck clearly rehearsed it.
“Hey Buttercup,” Ransone smiled, distinctly proud of himself. Your bite on the bundle of cloth haphazardly shoved in your mouth tightened. “Been waitin’ on you for a while now. Wilson’s no good company.”
You sneak a glance at Sam’s side profile and he looks relatively untouched. There were a few cuts on his face that you could make out under the harsh light but that was it.
“You can’t get out of those, if you're wondering.” He gestured to your current set up. “I told you, Sam. I save my warehouse for special guests. All your fun tools are gone. Took ‘em when you were brought in.”
As your eyes adjusted to the lighting, you faintly make out the presence of two men in the corners of the room, stiff as cardboard. His security.
“Oh! Except this.” He brandished the paper airplane you had brought with you in the utility belt. He’d use anything to potentially get a rise out of you.
“Gettin’ sentimental now, are we?” He tested the tip of the plane with his finger.
You prayed he wouldn’t destroy it. It had more value than he was willing to bet on.
“You must be asking yourselves why you ended up here,” Ransone mused, looking at the plane from all angles. “No need to worry, I’ll tell you.”
You didn't expect anything less from him. Everything about this felt cinematic; the inconvenient lighting, the men standing in the corner. This man oozed drama over efficiency.
“When I was just starting out, people warned me. Told me I wasn’t going to get anywhere, that we’d always stay in the same position because that’s how it’s been for all these years.” He tested the plane, holding onto the body sturdily.
“There were too many big names already. We were one of them, of course. My father did a good job of giving us a solid foundation.” He pulled his wrist back like he was going to launch it, only to never actually do it. He carried it through the air, simulating its flight pattern.
“You remember my father, don’t you? The guy who cut off someone’s finger because they didn’t finish the job.” Ransone really only had one story to tell about his father and he worked it to death. Other than a few handful of times, his father never bothered about his presence much from what you heard. He favoured the ones who were brutal and Ransone- well, he was a glorified theatre kid.
“Of course you do. He was an incredible man.” He laughed crisply. “But he had no real ambition. No drive. I told him we could have been at the top, the ones parents warn their kids about. He didn’t listen to me. He never really paid attention.”
His tone got wistful in the end, eyes distant like he was living the scene out in his head.
“So obviously when he died, I had the chance to really make a difference. Really set us apart. Ten Rings and Hydra had their own niche; they had some ties with the military and the government and whatnot. Crazy motherfuckers, all of them.” He shook his dead in distaste. “But Serpentine- that was closer to home. Same market as us.”
You wondered how long he would take to get to the point. The only distraction you had were the noises that continued outside. An odd gunshot here and there really pulled your attention away from the story.
“Serpentine with their stupid code names. They really thought they were all that.” He sounded embarrassingly like a bitchy teenager. “Who do they think they were fooling with the Norse Gods thing, huh? Naming your leader Odin, his wife Frigga.”
“I fucking hated them,” he spat, face twisting into anger. “Told them to watch out, that I’d end their legacy. They laughed in my face.”
He spun around, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he pointed to Sam, “That’s where you come in.”
Sam looked thoroughly irritated with the show that was going on in front of him. If he wasn’t gagged you had no doubt he’d have a few comments to pass. Ones that would get the both of you killed.
“I told you to kill their leader. One job. You fucked that up.” Sam recalling the story of his first mission flashed in your memory. “Let that old nutjob into your head and allowed him to escape. We didn’t know where he was for years.”
“I let it go because I thought Serpentine was done for. Radio silence after Odin disappeared. And they were, until a few years ago when I get news that they have a new leader. Odin’s son, the new heir.” He waved around his hands, mocking the last part of his sentence. “Word on the street was that he wanted to kill whoever murdered his mother in front of his eyes.”
“I thought that was hilarious. You know why?” He laughed humourlessly. “Because that was you. You were the one who killed his mother. You remember that? Your big mission?”
“You killed my mom,” he jeered, unmoving.
“I’m sorry. I had to.” Your voice was quiet. Your hand clutched at the hood of the car to keep your balance. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Go.”
“He wasn’t supposed to be there. No one had even heard of him. His brother’s too soft to take on anything like this. He’s some farmer in England now. But he was supposed to be Odin’s only son. Yet somehow, the only person who could have known this other son existed and actually seen him… was you.”
“Turns out he’s like you. A secret adoption. No record of him anywhere.” You didn’t blink, not once taking your eyes off him in case he decided to go wild. “He should have died that day. You were supposed to kill them.”
Only Ransone would justify killing a kid because it fit his agenda. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before, and though he tried very hard to shove his ideology onto you, you never complied.
“Goes by Loki now, another stupid codename. Trained by his father who this idiot let go of.” He gestured to Sam callously, “and mad about the murder of his mother that you committed. Serpentine came back pretty quickly after he took control.”
A particularly loud sound of metal slamming would have made you jump had you not been tied down. Ransone swung around in anger, loudly cursing at them for ruining his train of thought. He muttered some more curses under his breath before plastering a fake smile on his face and continuing.
“I’ll admit, he’s a sneaky one. But they grew faster than any other cartel. They somehow knew all our connections, all our targets, our key players. It wasn’t possible,” he shook his head low as he paced up and down slowly. You knew where this was headed. “Unless we had someone giving them information from the inside.”
He stops to look at you.
“I would have forgiven you, Y/N, I really would. You know how I am about second chances.” He looked at you, eyebrows upturned with regretful eyes. “But then you had to go and spy on me for two years.”
You could see Sam turn to you from the corner of your eye, assessing your reaction. You didn't extend the same courtesy to him. You didn’t have any reaction.
“We found out very late, of course. I taught you well,” he chided, his inescapable narcissism making an appearance once more. “But then we had to figure out why. Why you’d betray me and everything I’ve done for you.”
“I still can’t figure that out.” You wanted to scream at him, everything he had taken away from you, everything he forced you to be. “I treated you the best out of everyone I had. You had the best training, the best resources. You wouldn’t have made it anywhere if I didn’t drag you out of that shithole orphanage.”
You had heard of blissfully ignorant, but he was well beyond that at this point.
“Didn’t take too long to connect the dots. What, with Wilson’s great act of charity and your lack of better judgement, both of you managed to fuck up enough to screw me over years later.”
“I initially was only going to have you killed, Buttercup,” he admitted nonchalantly, like your life had no value. “But then we found out that Sam’s been lying to me for a long time too. Been hidin’ his friend a few states away.”
“It was meant to be,” he cooed. “Such a similar past. You could have met each other before, you know? Pierce wouldn’t be the first time you were at the same house on the same day.”
You couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if you had known Sam earlier. Would you have been friends or would you have been forced to kill each other in his sick ‘survival of the fittest’ game?
“It felt poetic to have you both die together, you know? On a mission gone wrong. A full circle.” God, he spent too long planning something elaborate when he could have just put a bullet in your head and ended you the day he found out. Fucking weirdo.
“Made sure I sent you to the same place at the same time. Pierce was dead long before you came, the poor fuck. But then again, collateral damage. No mercy.” He shrugged. “Had everyone at the ready. You should have died that night.”
“But like everything you do,” his voice suddenly rose like a child throwing a tantrum, “you fucked that up for me too. Escaped with his stupid fucking car.”
“None of those useless agents could find you. How could they?” The beauty was that Ransone must have spent too long looking when you were basically right there, just miles away. “You didn’t go to one of our locations and Serpentine hides their safehouses well.”
You still remembered the relief when the door accepted your fingerprint.
It was a long shot but you didn't have anywhere else to go. You weren’t even sure that this house existed.
Another loud crash arrived from the outside with noises that sounded like more gunshots, making Ransone jump this time. Just how many people were being tortured here?
“Keep the volume down, you stupid fucking imbeciles!” he screeched, pounding at the metal door. The decibel reduced, but still continued on.
He dragged his palm across his face in exasperation, talking under his breath to himself. He shook his head before turning back to you.
"Oh, by the way, don't think about escaping. Got every last one of my best agents out here after that stunt you pulled at Pierce’s house,” he says offhandedly.
He takes a second to regroup, get back into character.
“So we released your pictures to the public. Can’t go very far if people are looking for you constantly. It was the only way we could get you to stay in one place.” Ransone raised his shoulders casually. “We had every lowlife out there waiting for one of you to show up.”
“We eventually had someone report Wilson in a town a while away from Pierce. I was making my way there but then you sent me your location on your own. Had men outside your house that night.” He paused, peering at the plane in his hand.
He finally let it go, watching as it barely went any distance before nose diving to the ground. Your eyes trailed after it, hoping he wouldn’t crush it with his foot.
“This is the worst fucking paper plane I’ve ever seen. The balance is completely off.” He stared at it in wonder, picking it up again and shoving it back into his pocket. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “Anyway one of them heard you talkin’ about how you’re leaving the next day so we just got ready at the door.”
“Et voila.” He grinned, spreading his arms. “Here we are. Brilliant, wasn’t it?”
Unnecessarily long, but you weren’t going to complain.
“Oh, I forgot you can’t talk.” His mouth quirked downwards into a ‘whoops’.
He took a long pause right in front of you before his hand reached out to cradle your face. “I wouldn’t let those idiots kill you, Buttercup. You deserved better than that.”
He stared unnervingly into your eyes, looking for a hint of anything, any sort of remorse. He wasn’t going to find any. You wished he saw nothing but hatred.
“It’s why I had to kill you myself.” He sighed when you pulled your face away the best you could from his palm in disgust. “But I’ll do you a solid. I’ll give you a chance to beg for forgiveness. Maybe if you’re good enough I’ll let you go.”
You knew he was lying. He had no intention of doing that. He only wanted you to grovel in submission, plead for your life for a fucking power trip.
He ripped off the tape that was over your mouth, making you flinch at the burn. He pulled out the cloth faster than you could spit it out at him.
“Go ahead,” Ransone said smugly. His ego would outlive all of you.
“Him first.” Your mouth was dry and your lips felt chapped. You had clearly been knocked out for a while by then. You had no idea how far away you were from the original location.
“What?” His smile dropped to a frown rather quickly.
“Him first.” You mentioned towards Sam with your head.
“That’s cute.” He laughed, stopping when you didn’t join in. “Oh, you’re serious.”
“I’m not saying shit till he does too.” You were bemused, monotonous. You just wanted to get this over as quickly as possible.
“Fine,” he huffed when your expression didn’t change. “It’d be fun to watch him beg anyway.”
You hear the rip of the tape from his face, the scrunch of the material before he balled it up and threw it on the floor.
Sam shook his head furiously, forcing Ransone to take a step back swiftly before he hit him.
“Right.” Ransone clapped his hands together. “Let’s get star-”
He was interjected by another loud bang followed by a series of gunshots. Another victim massacred. He groaned in frustration, stamping his feet at the constant interruption. The universe was determined to not let him finish his monologue in peace, and for that, you thanked her.
You looked at Sam, nodding slightly. He gave you a small smile in return, calming the nerves you were beginning to feel.
“Where were we?” Ransone did not look happy; a vein was dangerously visible on his forehead. Now would not be the best time to do anything that angered him. “Yes, go ahead. Beg.”
“Ransone,” Sam began, exhaling lightly. “We knew.”
The smile on Ransone’s face faltered. “What did you say?”
“He said we knew,” you cut in. “You melodramatic fuck.”
Ransone’s grin faded abruptly and it was by far the most satisfying experience you had ever experienced.
“Yeah, we figured it out ourselves a while ago.” Sam had the slightest smirk on his face. “Y/N did, actually.”
“Fuck,” you cursed.
You could feel his muscle shift as he looked at you.
“What’s wrong?”
You opened your mouth but shut it again. How do you explain it to him without sounding utterly ridiculous?
“I need to tell you something and I need you to hear me out before saying anything,” you pulled away from him, shuddering at the sudden cold that enveloped you.
“I’m listening.”
“I think it’s Ransone. He’s been trying to kill us.”
“Why?” He didn’t sound judgemental, hardly even fazed, like it was a completely plausible suggestion. You couldn’t express how glad you were.
“The guy you didn't kill, if he’s the old head of Serpentine, then... I know his son.” Your mouth was dry as your mind raced to piece it together. “He’s the one I didn’t kill.”
“What?” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, and you could see him trying to figure out the connection. “How are you so sure?”
You closed your eyes, letting out a deep exhale. “I’m going to need you to not react to what I’m going to tell you.”
“Okay...” he trailed off.
“I’ve been working with him for two years. Passing information on to him about Ransone.”
“Wait so that means-”
“I’m the spy. And I think Ransone figured it out. He wants to kill me.”
“You knew,” Ransone stated. He looked like he was in a daze.
Sam looked at you once before nodding. “If you would shut up and let someone else talk for once, we would have told you a while ago.”
“It helped that you confirmed details about Pierce’s death without us having to tell you.” The last conversation you had with him replayed in your head verbatim. “There’s no way you would have known he was dead before we got there unless we told you. Or you did it.”
“We knew you had agents outside the house. Kinda expected that when we gave you the address,” you shrugged the best you could, “Sam’s security cameras got all of them.”
“Made sure that one fuck behind the tree could hear us planning outside,” Sam added. “He wasn’t very stealthy, by the way.”
“Have you decided on a day?”
You nod, looking straight ahead into the darkness. “Tomorrow.”
“You sure? Our timing has to be right.”
“Yeah.” Your voice is coarse. “I’ll have to tell him.”
He nodded, leaning his elbows on his knees. He was too tall for the stairs, almost like he was crouching instead of sitting.
His voice dropped to a whisper like it’s a secret only meant for you.
“You knew you were going to be ambushed.”
“No shit.” You nodded.
The loud bangs continued outside the door but you paid no heed to it. The closer it got, the more your stomach jumped, hoping that more people you pissed off didn’t storm in. You had quite a list anyway.
“You knew they were coming,” Ransone appeared like he had gears turning in his own head, trying to add everything up on his own. “Then why didn’t you run?”
“Well, we kinda needed all of you in one place.”
“Huh?” He blinked, not listening to all the commotion that was going on around him. If he didn’t, he was choosing to focus on this instead.
“We had to take out all of you at once,” you disclosed, fidgeting with the rope to see if it would give. “Kinda knew you were waiting to kill us yourself when we gave you the location and nothing happened immediately. You’re too much of a sissy to kill us without backup so we wanted you in one place with the rest of them.”
You tilted your head towards the two men standing in the corner.
“You knew all this while and lied,” Ransone jeered, face twisting into something rather indiscernible; a nice mix of shame and rage.
“Not like we had another choice, man.” You just knew Sam was rolling his eyes. “You think I would voluntarily listen to you monologue like an idiot?”
“You did gag us,” you added, trying to buy as much time as you could. “That’s on you.”
The ropes were still tight as could be and the chair wouldn’t budge. Even your feet were too tightly tied together to do anything. It was what you expected, but that wasn’t going to stop you.
“Shut up!” Ranone’s face was hideously red.
“You rehearsed it, didn’t you?” Sam called out, taunt in his tone. “With the lighting and shit.”
“He doesn’t have to. He does one a week to some poor fuck who has to listen.”
You couldn’t believe the both of you were teaming up to bully a man who literally held the fate of your lives in his hands. It was something you never imagined yourself doing.
“How do people take you seriously?” Sam laughed. More than yours, his remarks seemed to be ticking Ransone off.
Ransone let out a guttural cry, knuckles so white you were afraid they were going to break. He whips around, stomping over to pull the gun from the hand of one of his bodyguards.
“Easy there, DeNiro, that’s not a stage prop.” Sam chided.
The concrete in front of him suddenly cracks loudly. He looked up, slightly taken aback.
“Next time it’ll be your fucking face,” Ransone snarled, waving the gun around like a maniac. You send a cautionary glance to Sam, telling him to back off. Ransone was volatile. He would act without thinking.
“Why did you kill everyone I was friends with, Vincent?” you asked slowly, trying to divert his mind.
He turned to you, a crazed look in his eyes.
“Why did you take everyone from me?” The more you asked, the more it became about genuine curiosity rather than a distraction from shooting Sam in the head.
“Take everyone from- none of them were going to last anyway!” He throws his hands up in the air angrily. “I was saving you from yourself. From the eventual pain.”
His face was desperate, and you for a second forced yourself to think from his perspective. He looked like he truly believed in what he was saying, like he genuinely thought he was supporting you. Like he cared. The thought that maybe he truly wanted to help you was the only way you could comfort yourself for so many years.
“If you were in pain, you wouldn’t perform. I was only pushing you to your full potential,” he continued, a wild smile on his face mixed with eyes rimmed red like he was ready to cry.
Your stomach sank, even though you hated it. It wasn’t about you, it was about what he could get from you.
There was silence. Even the noises outside seemed to have stopped, all waiting for your next move.
“You’re a sick, conniving fuck,” your words waver, and you hope it hits him as hard as it can, “And I can’t wait till you’re dead.”
His face morphed from one of helplessness to slow fury once more. Manipulative prick.
“Do I have to remind you that you’re the one tied up?” He wipes at his nose, voice returning to normal. “The only reason you’re alive right now is because I need to know why you let yourself be captured so willingly.”
Your incessant need to know everything stemmed from him and the paranoia he induced in you from when you were a kid. Everything you thought was wrong about you came from him.
“We told you, you overdramatic fuck.” Sam drew the attention away from you thankfully. You took a deep breath, stabilizing yourself.
“What, that you needed the team in one place to take us out?” Ransone asked, to no one’s answer. “You and what army?”
“Well, the one who’s been here for a while now,” you pipe up.
No one says anything. Pin drop silence reigns free.
“You said he’d be here,” Sam hissed at you. “How much longer do we keep this going?”
“He said he would,” you argued back, feeling the heat creep into your cheeks.
“What the fuck are you both talking about?” Ransone asked, but you continued to ignore him.
“What are we going to do if he-”
The door violently exploded off its hinges, sending debris flying everywhere. You clenched your eyes shut and ducked your head to avoid getting smacked in the face with rubble
The dust hadn’t even cleared before multiple rounds were fired. You flinched when your ringing ears hurt more at the sound of gunshots.
You struggle against your ropes, trying to get to Sam. They only get tighter until suddenly your arms break free. Your neck and legs soon follow as you shrug off the ropes that were cleanly sliced off.
Your ears were still getting used to the chaos when you notice someone humming behind you. It took a second to register that it was a fucking Britney Spears song.
“What took you so long?” You coughed, waving the air in front of you to clear it as you stumbled towards Sam.
“I wanted to make an entrance,” Loki said dismissively, following you. “I think I may have overshot it by a few seconds.”
You fell to your knees in front of Sam, quickly moving to untie the familiar knots. He lifted his head to look at you, a thin layer of dust covering his face.
“Are you okay?” you asked in concern, simultaneously untying as fast as you could. It was one you had used many times before; a complicated knot that guaranteed you wouldn’t have been able to make it out of the bondage.
“I think my leg’s asleep but other than that I’m good.”
You give him a small smile, thankful that he wasn’t hurt enough to lose his dry sense of humour. Your hand involuntarily reached up to brush some dust off his cheekbone. The intensity with which he looked at you had you swallowing thickly.
You snapped out of it quickly, working on freeing his legs as Loki took a step behind his chair to cut the rest of him loose.
“This him?” Sam mentioned to Loki, massaging his wrist to return some feeling into it.
“You can just ask me, you know,” Loki commented, but clearly not taking any offence.
“I’m sorry about your family, man.”
You didn’t expect Sam to say that, and from the looks of it, neither did Loki. He stopped for a moment, before continuing to cut the last rope.
“You let my father go,” he said, sawing the last part off, “and although I personally think you should have killed the miserable old bastard, he made it clear that he owed you one.”
The both of you stood up. You glanced around the room, noting how both of Ransone’s bodyguards were on the floor, bullet holes riddling their body.
He himself was beside them, lying facefront on the ground. Armani suit be damned.
“How many more are outside?” Sam asked, tearing your attention away from the bodies on the floor.
“All taken care of.” Loki put the knife back into its sheath on his thigh. “We made quite a commotion. I’m surprised he didn’t do anything.”
“He’s a little dense,” Sam remarked. Most of the noises you heard earlier weren’t just other victims being tortured, although you knew that it was still a large fraction of it.
“Should we go?” you asked, doing a quick sweep of the room. You found nothing moving among the pile of rubble.
“Unless you got anything else left to do.” Loki gestured to the large hole in the wall where the door was.
“I think we’re done.”
He simply nodded, spinning on his heel to walk out the room when someone yelled from behind you.
You all halted what you were doing, slowly turning to look at where the noise was coming from.
“Don’t take another step,” Ransone warned, a gun pointed straight at you, barely able to stand straight. He looked worse than you’d ever seen him. His suit was torn and he had a few streaks of blood down his face. His hair was tousled and unkempt, rougher than it had ever been before. “Or I swear I’ll-”
“Oh, shut up,” Loki interjected, firing a shot into Ransone’s stomach before anyone could even react. He returned the gun to its holster that you didn’t even notice was there on his waist. “He talks too much.”
Ransone staggered back until he hit the wall, knees buckling beneath his weight as he slid to the ground. The gun he pried off his bodyguards lay where he was standing previously.
You ignored Sam’s uneasy questions as you took a step forward.
You picked the gun up, cautiously making your way to Ransone. You crouched next to his body. He looked at you before looking down. You followed his line of sight, watching as he lifted his hands. They were covered in blood.
“How’d he know where to find you?” Ransone’s voice was more subdued than you’d ever heard him.
You reached over, slipping your fingers into his jacket pocket and pulled out the paper airplane that was flattened due to the impact.
“Hey, you can put a message in it. Maybe one of those button trackers, a microphone. The possibilities are endless.” He laughed, folding another one out of the limited supply of paper he had left.
You unfolded it, letting a small object, not bigger than a button, fall into your palm. He stared at it before realisation dawned on him.
“I knew you’d take all my weapons, but you wouldn’t get rid of this,” you disclosed, folding the paper plane back to what it was and gently putting it into your pocket. It was still salvageable. “Not if you could use it to hurt me.”
You watched him take a shaky breath, flinching when more blood rushed out of him.
“You can still help me, Y/N. We can get out of here together,” he rasped. “Think about everything we’ve been through. We can work it out. I love you.”
You involuntarily let out a strangled cry at the last part. It was nothing but a last ditch attempt to persuade you, pull you back in.
“Look- look at me. Buttercup,” he croaked when you wouldn’t oblige. “I love you. I’m your home.”
You finally look at him. Look right into his eyes, red rimmed and fading. You look for it, the adoration he spoke of. The care he promised. Anything to make sense of why he would tear you apart time and time again. The love he had for you.
You find nothing. Gray eyes look back at you blankly, desperately, in pain.
“You never were,” you whisper, standing up abruptly.
You raised your arm, pointing the gun at him. He sputtered out more half baked apologies, unaware of anything that was coming out of his own mouth.
You clench your eyes shut, pulling the trigger. He lets out a cry when the bullet lodges in his shoulder.
You take a step back, letting the scene imprint itself in your brain of him powerless on the ground at your will. If you followed what he preached, you’d have ended his life right there. No mercy.
But you weren’t him. And you didn’t ever want to be.
“I need to do something too,” you heard Sam say. You can feel him near you, brushing against you for a moment as he gently reached for the gun you held. You gave it to him, feeling him squeeze your hand in reassurance.
Ransone looked at Sam as he stood beside you. He fired a single shot into his leg, clearly hitting bone. You hear the same wail from before, mixed with sputtering as blood leaked from his mouth.
“That was from Riley. He says fuck you.” Sam let his hand fall again. “All yours, man.”
“You already know what this is for,” Loki said simply.
You chose not to look away as he shot the last round right into his forehead. Ransone’s head slumped over. Dead, glassy eyes stared beyond you.
None of you say anything. Just stare at the lifeless body in front of you.
“It’s really over, huh?” Sam’s voice is quiet, like he's having trouble processing what just happened.
You don’t answer. Only take a step towards him, and intertwine your fingers with his, continuing to stare at the corpse of your lifelong abuser.
____
The sun was beating down on you. You didn’t expect it to be evening when you stepped out of the warehouse.
“Where are we?” you asked, shielding your eyes from the sudden brightness that left you squinting.
“Middle of nowhere, I’d say.” Loki stares with disdain at the old building that looked worse for wear. “Would it kill the man to have a bit of taste?”
That reminded you. “Thanks for the house. And… sorry we showed up uninvited.”
“You didn’t do too much damage to it, I hope.”
You looked at him guiltily, mind flashing to the many bullet holes that decorated the back wall. “I’ll pay for the repairs.”
“Forget it. It’s of no use since everyone knows it exists now.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand. “So, Y/N. I guess that concludes our deal?”
“I guess it does.” You nodded,
Sam wraps his arms around your shoulder and you lean into him with a sigh, allowing the comfort his touch brought to seep into you.
“How’d you guys make a deal anyway?” he inquired. You closed your eyes, chest rising and falling steadily.
“Well, I was going to kill you at first,” Loki explained offhandedly, gesturing to you. “But then-”
He trailed off.
You remember, clear as day, when Loki confronted you in the early hours of the morning outside the park you went on runs. He had a gun pulled on you before you could fathom what was going on, before you could even realise who he was.
“But then?” Sam prodded.
“Did he make it?”
“He did,” you divulged the information you had found out a while ago. It was a messy confrontation to say the least but you got out unscathed.
“Saw something that I recognised,” he said dryly, eyeing you up and down. “We were both pulled into something we didn’t have a say in. Stuck, you could say. I just thought that it was a win-win situation if we worked together to kill that idiot back there.”
“So you agreed to spy on him,” Sam concluded. “You got revenge. What was your incentive?”
You look at Loki who just smiled at you. You return one half heartedly.
“I’d say freedom is a pretty big reward, wouldn’t you?” And it was. You couldn’t even begin to explain the weight that would be lifted off your shoulders. “I can’t guarantee you’ll have a perfectly normal life. Might have to change your identity, move around a bit.”
“Everyone’s looking for us as wanted criminals,” Sam voiced everything you were forgetting about in the surge of emotions rushing through you.
“I got some connections,” Loki said dismissively. You peered at him from under Sam's arm. “I can have it traced back to a dead mobster in a warehouse, no problem. If they think it’s a gang war there’s no way they’ll try to get too involved. Consider it a gift from my father.”
Sam nodded, relaxing slightly now that most things were taken care of.
“That’s sorted then.” Loki examined the barren land that surrounded you. “You’re going to need a ride back to civilization, aren’t you?”
“If that’s possible.”
“I’ll have someone drop you off. You got any place to go? At least to stay low for a while.”
You didn’t have anyone. The only one you had was the man beside you. Nothing was settling in at the moment, and you realised that it would be a long road until it did. But you had a shot. A real shot at something even resembling recovery.
Sam and you looked at each other before he turned back to Loki and nodded.
“New Orleans.”
Next part
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here’s a list of references/foreshadowing to the end all throughout the series!
#sam x reader#sam wilson x reader#mcu fic#sam fic#sam wilson fic#sam wilson fluff#sam wilson angst#sam wilson series#falcon#falcon x reader#the falcon x reader#hitman!sam wilson#hitman!au#shut in fic#marvel fic#marvel#mcu#sam wilson#the falcon#sam wilson fanfiction#marvel imagine#marvel fanfiction#sam wilson imagine#sam imagine
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Cross Contamination
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I'm fucking furious. To most people Jack Wilson is a hockey hotshot, but to me he is just my wife's ex that can't let go. She said they had another encounter, but wouldn't go into details, saying it wasn't just his fault. She couldn't help herself, she said. Knowing how much she loathes him I suspect she was afraid of him turning violent. He is a star athlete after all, known to have punched more than a few players on the ice.
I know he's training at the stadium right now. That's how bad it has gotten, that I even know his schedule. I'm probably speeding getting there, but nothing else is important right now. I park the car in the huge, but almost empty parking. Neverending slabs of concrete to allow for the cars of thousands of cheering fans during game day. Well, I'm certainly not a fan. Still fuming as I exit the car and heading towards the arena I see him and a few others from his team running towards the same building from across the car park. They must be out for cardio or something. I stop and shout towards them "Hey! Jack!"
I can see them slow down a little, Jack saying something to them, and then breaking apart jogging in my direction while they continue at speed towards the stadium building. I remain still, just glaring at him as he closes in on me. He slows down quite a bit away and saunters towards me, still panting. He has an aura of smug superiority. He's good looking, despite his matted, sweaty hair and week-old beard. It's not just because he's in top shape, but he has that classic athlete chin cut, and mesmerizing eyes to go with it too. He's quite a bit shorter than me, and way denser and muscled, but I would bet my weekly martial arts practice can match him if needed. "Hey, cocksucker! You managed to find your way here," he yells back at me.
"I want you to know..."
"Shut up"
I don't know why, but I can't look away from his intense eyes. It's like they can see into me, see every part of me. I'm frozen in place just watching him getting closer. "I said hey cocksucker. What are you waiting for? Go ahead and suck my cock." He says this as calmly as he can, never breaking eye contact. I don't think he blinks. I don't think I blink. I slowly go down on my knees, grabbing the hem of his sweatpants, and pull down. I still keep eye contact, so I have to feel my way for the waistband of his underwear to pull it down too. I can feel the heat radiate from his steaming body. There's a smell of sweat, not the stale, musky kind, but from someone who showers every day and uses fresh clothes for each workout. He's professional and they got staff. I can hear his heavy breath as he is still recovering from the sprint. And I can feel a rather large cock in front of me that is erect, or at least a good way there. I grab it in my hands and guide the tip to my lips and begin to lick it. It doesn't really taste of much. I open my mouth and get more and more of his compression shirt wrapped abs and pecs in my view as I stare into his deep eyes, and take his big cock deeper and deeper into my mouth.
The tip reaches some point at the back of my mouth and I start to gag, making horrendous gurgling noises. I move back from him. "All the way. I want to be balls deep down your throat, cocksucker." I do as he commands, and push it in again, further. It's somehow much easier this time and my lips are tickled by his moist bush of pubes. I then start to work it, in and out, in and out. The noise I'm making is still horrendous. A wet, sloshy sound, and I hate it. "Yeah, you like that, cocksucker. Now, faster." I grab him by the hip and increase the pace. I get lost in the actions, like nothing matters but his cock, the noise, and his eyes.
I don't know for how long I was in a trance, but I feel him tensing up, pulling me tight to him, and shooting a big load of his cum down my throat. Suddenly the gaze that had held me like a vice breaks and he looks at my face rather than into my eyes. The spell is broken. I'm kneeling in a parking lot with Jack Wilson's cock down my throat, and my nose nuzzled into his pubes. His eyes suddenly widen, and his face turns into horror, like he is looking at a monster. Everything is going like in slow motion. I begin to push him away, to get his disgusting cock out of my mouth as he shoots his second load. Somehow in shock I manage to breathe in his cum. He pulls away from me as well, and his third load ends up just next to me on the concrete. "Fuck!" he says, visibly upset. "It's still in the bloodstream. Spit it out! Spit it out!"
I'm not sure I even have any in my mouth to spit out. It just went straight into my belly and into my lungs. Lungs that are desperately trying to cough up his spunky goo in phlegm-filled, deep whoops. "Fuck!" he shouts one last time, pulls up his sweatpants, and runs towards the Stadium building with one hand holding the pants up. I'm just folded over on my knees coughing and coughing while my mind is racing to make sense of what just happened. My chest is burning and I feel nauseated. There is the salty, bitter taste of cum in my mouth and a stench of athlete sweat as I gasp for air in between the coughs. I keep coughing, but less and less of substance is coming up. I spit out specks of Jack's spunk on the concrete in front of me, and realize what she had meant when she said she couldn't help herself. Did he fuck her? After what just happened I wouldn't put anything past Jack, and there is literally nothing I wouldn't forgive her for having done. She would have been helpless to stop.
I can feel my whole body burning as I get up from the concrete. I'm very aware how my clothes rubs against my body, like my senses have just gone into overdrive. Everything, every single muscle in my body feels sore. My head is spinning. Still coughing I stagger towards my car and get in behind the wheels. As I close the door the world goes silent. I can only hear my own exhausted panting. I'm confused about what is happening and feel sick as shit, but at least the world isn't spinning anymore. Somehow I must have been poisoned. What did he mean with "in the bloodstream?"
I start the car and carefully drive from the parking lot and out in the direction of home. Perhaps I shouldn't be driving at all. Crashing while driving is worse than crashing while sitting in a parking lot, but I really don't want to have to call anyone for help. Not after what I've just been through. I so sympathize with the movie cliché of a girl sobbing in the shower. I only want to cleanse myself in any way possible. To get rid of Jack from me. Even now I can feel the smell of athletic sweat, like it was clinging on to me.
There is a big pop accompanied by one of the chest buttons on my shirt shooting off in the car. The pop isn't so much heard as felt, as a reverberation in my body like someone just punched me in the chest, with dull spikes of pain in the joints. I swerve dangerously close to the side of the road. It feels like my shoulders pops into their sockets, like my chest just suddenly expands and the rest of my body catches up. There is no mirror I can look in, but I can clearly see something is off just by looking down at my body. What little movement I can make while driving the car feels different.
There is another big shift. Knees and hip joints this time, I think. I'm a little more prepared to handle that one without swerving, but this time I'm instead missing the brake pedal like the seat is set wrong. I scoot forward on the seat and reach the pedal. Now I'm getting real nervous what is happening. I'm almost home though, but I can feel my thigh muscles involuntarily flexing, my feet are hurting, and my stomach is gurgling like bad plumbing.
Her car is not home yet, thank God. I park mine as calmly as I can, screaming inside that I need to get inside and see what the fuck is going on. As I step out of the car I get a first inkling about the enormity of the changes. I almost trip stepping out of the car, and sit down again on the edge of the seat. The fabric on the trousers are straining, and I realize that my feet are probably hurting because they have swollen up inside the shoes. I try to kick off one of the sneakers, but it's stuck enough that I have to untie them. My movements feel off. It's not that it is hard to move. The opposite in fact, but different somehow. Me feet thanks me in relief as they are freed,
With the shoes off I awkwardly make my way into the house and step into the nearest bathroom. It's me in the mirror, of course, but me 5-10 years younger. I'm touching my face in disbelief. But this isn't just me regressed a decade in time. I was way taller than this then. Curious I unbutton the remaining buttons on my shirt and throw it on the floor. The chest and abs are not me 5-10 years ago. I've never looked this buff before. For one I've never had washboard abs, and the pecs and shoulders are wide and meaty. The arms more slender, though still muscular, and the core is built more for function than aesthetics. A bit too dense for the show off V shape. Dense, with a low center of gravity.
It's the body of a hockey player.
I rip off the straining trousers and the socks. Sure enough, massive leg muscles, big thighs, big ass, big feet. Jack the fucking cheater is a fraud in all areas. Whatever the fuck he is taking must have concentrated in his balls, shot into my lungs, and from there gone straight into my bloodstream to do whatever the fuck it's done to me. And there is nothing I can do to hurt him with it. Who would believe me? This is so far from any science I've heard of.
I take a closer look in the mirror again. Perhaps it isn't all bad after all.
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Looking for a Place to Happen 2
Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats
This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.
Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely
Note: Here’s chapter two. Think I’ll probably slow down writing. Appreciate y’all.
Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!
Chapter 2: I follow every little whiff
💀💀💀
You gave yourself a day off that week. Rather, the desolation of Birch allowed you an excuse to get away from your desk. An internet outage across the town had you up and wandering the main road just after noon. Your grandmother refused to join you so she was left to her true crime novel and the weekday droning of talk show hosts.
After a peek in the book shop where you picked out some used thrillers for your nan and a guilty splurge on one of Babs' pies to add to the surprise, you stopped by the diner and had some soup to warm up from the unrelenting cold. You played around on your phone as you blindly slurped from your spoon. With no available connection, you swapped candies to achieve a score high enough to get to the next round.
After another loss, you put your screen down and added some pepper to the tomato soup. You leaned your chin in your hand and peered across the road. The Asp was just diagonal from The Chipped Saucer and from your seat by the window you could see the comings and goings of the dingy bar.
You chuckled to yourself as you remembered the hundreds of comments on your video. You weren't entirely surprised that the internet cheered at the sight of a woman beating up a man in broad daylight, you'd seen much worse on the web. But many were curious and asked about how it started and about the small town alluded to in the caption.
You picked up your phone and flipped open the camera. You pointed it through the glass as one of the many bikers strutted out of the bar and down the street. You knew him, like most in town, he was the leader's right hand man. Steve Rogers. He had an odd gait, rigid with long strides, and you remember Kelly used to make fun of him when you walked home from school. That felt like forever ago.
You ended the video and dropped your phone again. You'd send it to Kelly when the outage was over. It would be a good laugh. Plus, you hadn't heard from her much since she moved to the city.
You finished your soup and paid. You went out into the street and cut around to the backstreets. You made your way back to your nans and found Pippin scratching at the front door. You stopped and scooped him up before you let yourself in.
"Don't like the snow, do ya?" You set him down and he whipped his tail before skittering off, "hey nan, I got you some stuff."
"You spend too much," she grumbled as you hung your coat and grabbed her treats.
"Only on you," you sang as you entered the front room, "sugarless blueberry pie, your fave, and some books about murder and all that freaky stuff you love."
"Hmm," she watched you put the pie and books down on the coffee table, "suppose the pie will go good with tea."
"Ah, and I suppose I'll be making that tea?" You returned.
"My arthritis…" she pouted but her grin came through.
"Yeah, yeah," you snickered as you went to the kitchen to put on the kettle, "we going black today or something lighter?"
"Put on some of the pekoe," she called back, "make a whole pot."
"Will do, ma'am," you trilled and basked in her annoyed mutter.
💀
When the internet came back, you sent of an email to inform the agency of the interruption and promised to meet your deadlines. Then you puttered around and added a caption to the video before you sent it off to Kelly; 'why he walk like that tho'. She sent a series of crying emojis back and told you to post it.
'Nah, it's a dumb joke.' You typed back.
'Saw ur last vid, ppl will eat it up,' she insisted.
'Well, got nothing else to put up. The account’s dying since no one cares about my writing.'
'DO IT.' Her words sealed your resolve and you uploaded the video with some dramatic music in the background.
The response was almost instantaneous. Several comments saying they were happy to see more and others being for another video. 'We all wanna see inside this fucked up town' one added and several latched on. Ignoring the questions of where this was, you gave a thin promise of future small town thug content.
You turned back to your work email and opened up your draft for your next gig. You couldn't help but smile as you went over your work. You might have just found your niche.
💀
You knew your nan would lose it if she knew you were snooping around the club, so you didn’t tell her. You went down, made her breakfast, went back upstairs to do your work, then tiptoed out in the late afternoon to poke around town for something to upload. Birch was so dull when you lived there but to those outside, it was a novelty you were all too eager to provide.
You got more videos of the bikers; some revving their bikes, others arguing, but there was nothing overly usable. You were getting bored of it until the man himself walked out of the bar. You record the man’s glower expression as he marched down the sidewalk and turned off just down the way.
‘His name is Bucket… wtf?!’ you keyed in and snorted as you waited for it to load to your account.
Still, there was nothing special going on, like always in Birch, and your grandmother was bound to get suspicious if you kept sneaking around. You went back and hid your phone before she could bitch about it. You cooked her dinner and sat with her as your thoughts swung between work and your TikTok.
You went to bed but couldn’t sleep. You ended up watching YouTube on your phone as the windows shook with the night winds. It wasn’t until the darkness began to glow that you were roused from the cocoon of your comforter. You looked out and saw smoke coming from the main road.
You didn’t think before you pulled on your jeans and shoved your feet into your slipper, unconcerned about them soaking through as you barreled down the stairs, the sleeves of your hoodie only half on. The back door bounced behind you and you crunched down into the snow and clamored past the row of lifeless houses.
You were out of breath as you got to the end of the path and rounded the diner to gape over at the burning garage. You got closer as the line of bikers stood in their leather with breath puffing before them in the frigid night. You stepped back into the shadow of the brick façade of the realty office and swiped your camera open.
Your hands shook and you struggled to steady the image on the screen as the mechanic woman raged in only her tee shirt. You didn’t quite understand what was going on; only that her garage was up in smoke and then men were doing nothing to smother it. She swung at the dark haired man and spat at several others; “cowards”... “fuck all of you!”
You gulped and held your breath as she was dragged away by the large redheaded henchman of the slender outsider. She fought for a moment before she was flung over his shoulder and the biker followed their leader back to The Asp. You sidled in between the building and hid until the voices faded into the wind.
Well, that would be a hell of a video. It might even go viral.
💀
Your phone did not stop. You almost felt bad as you saw the screen limn the edges of your cell as you left it face down on the little table beside the couch. Your nan sat in her rocking chair talking away on her corded phone to Linette from down the road. You suspected that every other person in town was gossiping about the same thing; the fire.
You finished your coffee and rubbed your eyes as you checked the time and ignored the pulsing notifications. It was too much to keep up with.
Your grandmother hung up and sighed, “can’t believe it. You hear?”
“Hear what?” you pretended ignorance.
“That old garage burned down. The one with the lady,” she said, “pity. When I was a girl, that place was a salon. Ma used to take us there to get our hair cut. The barber would give us wrapped candies and pretend to cut himself with his scissors.”
“Oh? It burned down?” you weren’t sure you were very convincing but you also could just say you saw it happen.
“Yep, no one really can say. You know, maybe she was welding or some rag caught, but I bet my money on those bikers,” she sneered.
“Good thing you’re poor,” you kidded, “and why the bikers?”
“Oh, well, you know Kimmy, Linette’s girl, works down at the diner and she saw that mechanic arguing with one of those strangers, the ones dealing with the club men. Well, it’s no coincidence that trouble follows those leather jackets around,” she rocked as she nodded knowingly, “oh, one of the boys I knew back in the day, he was found burnt up with his bike. They said the tank blew… well, I saw it and that tank was pristine.”
“Nan,” you gasped, “you… Jesus.”
“Well, things don’t change in Birch, we just get older,” she continued, “when you’re young, everything seems new but then you age and it’s all just the same.”
“Wow, how… inspiring,” you said dryly.
“Girlie, you gotta be careful,” she intoned, “that fire, that’s a lesson to all the women in this town. To everyone. You don’t cross the Commandos.”
“I don’t think anyone--”
“That’s another thing, there has never been a shortage of stupid people, not now not then,” she girded, “those women who get tied up in that club, their lives are already done.”
You frowned and hid your phone in your pocket as you stood. You rubbed your neck and picked up your empty mug, “I should get started.”
“Mmm,” she said as she dialed the phone again, “I wonder if Fran knows yet.”
💀
You were being really fucking stupid but peer pressure was not a logical thing. Even through a screen, you found it hard to resist the goads. So there you were, your phone in your hand as you live-streamed your walk down to The Asp. The data costs alone would make you regret it but you were caught up in the hype of you fifteen second of internet fame.
“Alright,” you stopped across the street and gave a view of the moniker with Cleopatra sultrily looking down at you, “this is it… I just gotta play it cool…” you turned the lens towards you and smiled nervously, “hopefully that dude at the front doesn’t stop me.”
Comments flicked up the bottom of the screen so fast and smilies and hearts floated up the side around your face. You crossed the screen as you turned your phone against your coat and approached the bar door. The large biker butted out his smoke and you bared your teeth nervously. He didn’t stop you as he rolled his shoulders and coughed.
You entered to the noise of classic rock and low voices, the clink of glasses and tap of chalk on marble. You glanced around and quickly swept your phone around to give a view of the patrons. You hurried over to the bar and climbed up on a stool.
“You need a drink?” the woman behind the bar scowled. She looked worn out even with her lips painted bright pink and her eyes clouded with blue shadow.
“Uh, sure, can I… can I get one pint of everything you have on tap?” you asked as you set your phone down and shrugged out of your coat. You draped it over the next stool and reposition your phone as you flipped the cam and used the built in stand on the case to angle yourself onto the screen.
“Sure,” she narrowed her eyes and glanced past you.
You swung your feet as you waited for her to pour the five pints; some with too much foam and the others with no head at all. You took the first and held it up for the camera.
“A classic, BudLight,” you held it up to the light, “no head and…” you sipped, “flat.” You plunked it down and coughed as you grabbed the next, “this is a raddler?” you looked at the tap for confirmation, “grapefruit… smells like piss…” you had a sip, “tastes like it too.”
You chuckled to yourself and asked for a water. You made a show of swishing it around in your mouth before you moved onto the third beer.
“Had to cleanse the palate,” you joked, “now… lots of foam on this one, dark. You know, I’m pretty surprised they have Guinness here but let’s see…” you tasted it and crinkled your nose, “that’s it. Exactly like toilet water!”
You read some of the comments telling you to check the bottles for bugs and laughed. Suddenly you were yanked off the stool by the back of your shirt and your phone was swiped up by another man as the first restrained you. You struggled against his thick arm as it hooked around your neck and the leader of their crew stared at the screen of your cell.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he snarled as he hit the screen with his thumb but the stream kept going. He dropped the phone to the floor and stomped it instead.
“This is the bitch posting about us online,” the man at your back growled. It was Steve, the one with the weird walk.
“I doubt either of you know how to use a computer,” you scoffed, “hey, let me go.”
“And why would we do that when you’re snitching to the whole world, sweetheart?” Bucky kicked your phone away as he crossed his arms.
“Actually, I’m--” you grasped Steve’s arm as it threatened to get tighter, “--promoting your trash business. I was just having a tasting, if you had just asked--”
“Shut up!” Bucky stepped closer and brought your legs up and stopped him as you planted your feet against his stomach.
“Hey,” a woman’s voice came from behind the bar as the waitress shoved aside her empty tray, “hey, she’s just a kid.”
“Bullshit,” Bucky huffed, “she looks full-grown to me.”
“So what are you gonna do?” she said, “she’s young. You can’t--”
“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” he snapped.
“She’s right,” another voice intoned and that man, Sam, came up beside them with a pool cue in hand, “she’s just goofing around.”
“She’s a rat,” Steve insisted.
“You’re being dramatic. It’s called a meme and you do walk a little strange,” he chuckled, “no one’s gonna follow her breadcrumbs back to this shithole anyway.”
Bucky considered Sam and then looked at Steve. He poked his cheek with his tongue and sucked his teeth.
“So… you vouching for her?” Bucky asked.
“She won’t cause any more trouble, promise,” Sam said, “I’ll make sure of it.”
“You better,” Bucky snapped his fingers and you were released, “get her out of here.”
#sam wilson#dark sam wilson#dark!sam wilson#sam wilson x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#sequel#looking for a place to happen#au#biker au#biker!au#birch#biker boys of birch#MCU#marvel#thor#loki#Steve Rogers#Bucky Barnes#captain america#tfatws#avengers
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Ｂａｃｋ Ｔｏ Ｙｏｕ (Ｓａｍ Ｗｉｌｓｏｎ ｘ Ｆ!Ｒｅａｄｅｒ)
📎Word Count: 1.5k
📎Warning/s: some heckin’ words. Bucky’s in this, he’s a bit annoying (affectionately) <3 MINORS DNI.
📎A/N: omg my first Sam fic! i wanna thank my boo @babyboibucky for enabling me hsakjdhak ily! this is for you, bee!
📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK
📎 Follow the story: Back To You, Dimples, Inked
“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky says, annoyed that Sam has been looking down on his phone, remotely giving attention to their conversation.
Sam grins, fingers dancing over the keyboard on the screen, “Yeah, yeah. Something about motel rooms—or beds.”
“I said that they gave us two beds in one room,” the former spots their door number, quickly walking to it. The tactical bag swinging over his cybernetic arm freely.
The night was warm, the air blew the ocean mist towards the town. The parking lot is empty save for a black sedan that’s already been through a lot. They chose to stay low instead of getting a room at a decent hotel close by–something about them not likening the crowd.
Once inside, both men cleared the room in 30 seconds flat. The window opens out, the door stays closed and locked. The TV has to be on but kept on low volume. The beds are made, it’s clean; beats the flat beds on the plane.
Sam throws his bag over to the bed closest to the window, calling dibs. “Hey, you got headphones?” He asks.
“No,” Bucky answers, settling his things below the foot of the bed, “why?” He catches Sam again smiling giddily over something, “what you got a girl there or something?”
“It’s none of your business,” Sam retorts, quirking his eyebrow upwards, “well? Do you have headphones?”
“If you listened to me, you would’ve heard me say ‘no.’”
Bucky should’ve had brought headphones. Sam has been droning on and on with a ‘friend’ over on a video call.
Not that he’s eavesdropping and nosy but he saw how Sam lit up when a voice came in from his phone.
“Hey, Sammy! I finally get to see your face.” You say, your voice crackling over Sam’s speakers, “am I on speaker right now?”
Sam smiles, focusing on your background and seeing pictures and posters plastered on the wall, “oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot my earphones somewhere.”
“What? Old man Barnes rubbing off on you?” You laugh, your glasses reflecting your laptop’s screen. Your joke sending Sam into a laughing fit.
“You know he’s in the room, right?” Sam clarifies as he turns the camera to Bucky, much to the former’s dismay. But despite himself, Bucky waves to the camera.
“Heard a lot about you, Barnes! Hope you’re ready for frequent bathroom trips from this one.”
Sam faces you again, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes, “Shut up or I’m gonna drop the call.”
You quickly send him an emoji via text, Sam rolling his eyes as you giggle. “Anyway, since you can’t join in on the fun, you’ll be my audience tonight.”
Sam gives you a confused look, a hint of crease appearing between his brows. “Tonight? What’s tonight?”
A fake gasp and an overdramatic show of hurt had him chuckling, “You already forgot the karaoke night you promised me, didn’t you?”
He grins apologetically and looks at the camera, as if looking into your eyes, “I’m sorry. Been busy these past few weeks.”
You smile softly, the imagery giving Sam a burst of butterflies in his tummy, “it’s okay. I was just being dramatic. I got that from you, you know.”
You are not a good singer. But you confidently belt out the highest of notes like one. Complete with hand gestures, you hold out the last note of the song.
“Thank you,” you bow down to your imaginary crowd off-camera, “I’ll be here all night.”
“On god, please don’t,” Sam interjects with a tender smile and soft eyes.
“Sammy!” Your eyes glazing over your screen, a deep pang of homesickness hitting you, “I missed this. I missed you.”
He nods, his lips pressed tightly as he tries to find the words to respond, “I missed you too, bub.”
A soft note of a love song sounds over your speaker, traveling to his, “you love this song.”
Sam nods, reminiscing the moments he had with you during college. The one time you almost kissed—where are these memories and feelings coming from?! “Yeah, and---”
The doorbell rings on your end. Your eyes glinting as you stand up. Food delivery!
“Hold that thought, Sammy. My food’s here,” you say, your voice faint as you’re practically halfway through the door.
“She is a god-awful singer,” Bucky expresses, “but you love her, don’t you?”
“What?” Sam quickly taps a button on his screen—stupid Bucky and his stupid mouth. He covers his phone’s mouthpiece as if that could help, “shut the hell up.”
Sam’s changed demeanor confirms Bucky’s growing suspicion, “so you do love her!”
The latter glances at the empty screen, hoping you didn’t hear anything. Or maybe, he does?
The only sign of life from your end is the sound of various utensils cluttering and a metal bowl falling to the floor, making both men wince at the sudden noise.
Sam lowers the volume of his phone, facing Bucky from their respective beds.
“Shit,” Sam exclaims, running a hand over his handsome face, “maybe I do.”
This time, he finally lets himself go through the memories you made together before he left for the military.
The coffee dates, the late-night calls, the breakfast hangouts, the study sessions. You light up even the most boring of things. The texture of your skin, the sound of your laugh, the twinkle in your eyes bring Sam into a warm place.
You make him feel enough. You see him through and through.
Oh shit, he is in love with you.
Bucky just looks at him, boring holes in his face, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “You really just realized, just now?” Sam’s not sure if it’s a rhetorical question.
“The way you talk about her. The way you talk to her. You see her and the things she like everywhere we go and you realize it just now?” So, it is a rhetorical question.
The revelation leaves Sam amused but unable to form words, “I… Do–I do love her. I’m in love with my best friend.”
A silent beat drops in the room—save for the faint hello? coming from Sam’s phone.
Ah, fuck.
Bucky put on his jacket planning to head out (to the motel’s ice machine) to give you two privacy. He bids Sam good luck and you a good night before walking towards the door.
As soon as the door shuts, Sam increases the volume on his phone again.
“Sam?” You call out, “I can’t see you, your cam’s off.”
In panic, he realizes that he tapped the wrong button—maybe Old Man Barnes had rubbed off on him.
You smile and sat up a little bit straighter when his face lights up your screen again.
“So… how much did you hear about the whole thing?” Sam wants to tread carefully around the subject, the first time he feels uncomfortable opening up to you.
He fully expects you to dismiss the topic, turn in for the night, and leave him lamenting about his feelings. And he’s somehow okay with it.
“Kinda, everything.” You confess, there’s nothing holding you back now, “I, you know-- I’m glad you got ‘round it. Even if it took you years.”
Another pin drops inside Sam’s head, “what do you mean?”
“Look, I confessed to you before we graduated but you never acknowledged it. So, I never brought it up again.” Even miles apart, Sam’s presence was around you. The bracelet he gave you during junior year, his favorite mug you borrowed from him, a ton of his shirts and hoodies that he gave to you before moving out after graduation.
“You confessed to me? When?” Sam racks his brain for the smallest of details, for the quietest of whispers.
“I wrote you a letter. Remember? I slipped it under your door after finals week.”
After all these years, Sam never quite found out who wrote him that letter, “you never signed it.”
Sam didn’t expect you to laugh, to double over such a serious conversation, “dude, I did, I signed it. Why would I send you a deep proclamation of love without signing it?”
“It was written on pink paper, right? I still have it. You wanna bet that you don’t have your name on it?”
Your eyes widen in embarrassment, heat creeping up your cheeks, “oh my god, are you serious? I didn’t sign it?”
Sam laughs softly, his eyes crinkling the same way. There are lines decorating his eyes but he was still your Sam.
“No, ma’am.” He declares, the air somehow lighter now, “if you did, I would’ve said something.”
A hum escapes your lips, curling into a gentle smile, “good to know.”
The comfortable silence envelops the room, years of yearning and pining finally coming to end.
“Hey, after this mission - I was thinking if you want to go out. Catch up and you know, finally, talk in person.” Sam asks, there’s still a tiny voice inside his head not believing the talk that had transpired.
“I’d love that, Sam.”
The sentiment crashes and closes in on itself as Bucky barges into the room, holding a bucket of ice in one hand and a pack of beer in the other, “congratulations, idiots.”
#bitchasbucky writes#sam wilson x reader#sam wilson x reader fluff#sam wilson x reader angst#sam wilson x reader smut#sam wilson fluff#sam wilson angst#sam wilson smut
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