A/N: Part 6 is here you beautiful people! Feedback and reblogs are much appreciated. And let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!
Summary: Imagine being an FBI agent and the daughter of Wolverine. You used to be a a black widow and Hydra assassin as well as a part of Bucky’s past, a past that he had forgotten over time, until one day, he sees your face shadowed behind the public eye, like an apparition, as if you didn’t exist. Confused over your existence and questioning whether what he saw was real, Bucky finds himself scrambling to search for clues that would lead to who you are and why he feels as if he had seen you before. You on the other hand had moved on, starting a new life for yourself and even finding yourself working with a certain lawyer. After the horrors you faced, you wanted to leave your past behind you, eventually forgetting mostly everything that ever happened. That is until the former Winter Soldier brings those memories all back.
Warnings: language, angst, blood and violence, and a slightly steamy scene towards the end. This chapter briefly mentions a crime scene that involves the assault and murder of a minor so read at your own risk.
It felt as if the world was swaying around you, shifting in and out of focus. Your head was spinning, reeling over and over with the name that was written across the card in maroon ink. That 5 letter name. Laura. There was only one person that went by the name Laura that you knew, and it was your sister. You had been too absorbed on the events before; beginning with the things that Matt had said to you, then the body of the dead girl and the vision you had of her, and now your sister. It couldn’t be a coincidence, your sister’s name written across a card right after you investigated into the murder of the girl. It had to be be him, the killer, the same man that raped and killed that little girl and left her body out in the woods to rot. You knew it the moment when you picked it up, you could smell his perfume off the small piece of cardstock. What you didn’t know was how he had managed to sneak past the other feds and officers to get to your car. And how he had come to know about your little sister was beyond you. You had worked hard to keep everything about your past a secret, and it seemed as if everything was slowly spilling out of the abyss you had locked those secrets in in the first place. First the confrontation with Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes, and now that bastard who now had the deaths of 4 underage girls on his hand. Your sister’s name on that card was a threat. And you were going to get to him before he could get to her or anyone else ever again.
You arrived at your apartment after what had felt like days worth of driving, unlocking the door and slamming it behind you before hurriedly locking the special lock you had made for it.
“Hey. You okay?” Your heard Yelena’s voice speak up from where she sat on your armchair in the corner, setting her book down on the table once she saw the troubled look on your face as you went over to the window to search the streets. “Y/n?”
“Hm?” You turned towards her with a distant look behind your eyes. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“I thought we promised each other no more lies. We even made a pinky promise.”
“…….Sorry.” You shook your head, letting out an exasperated sigh and pinching the bridge of you nose.
“Y/n. Is something going on?” Yelena stepped up to you with a concerned look on her face as she placed a hand on your arm.
“I think Laura is in danger.”
“Your sister? Why? What happened?”
“Have you heard about those missing girls whose bodies were found in rivers?”
“Yes.” Yelena blinked, confused by why you were bringing this up as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I heard about it in the news.”
“Yeah well. I was called to investigate his new murder victim and when I left the crime scene I found this on my car.” You handed the card.
Yelena stared down at the card in her hands, her eyes running over Laura’s name with a clenched jaw.
“Tell me that’s not a coincidence.” You started to pace the room with your hands on you hips as sweat started to build at your forehead.
“How do you know it’s him?”
“I’m pretty damn sure it’s him. I can smell his stench off it. Clive Christian’s Original Collection.”
“Clive what?”
“It’s his cologne. I smelled the same thing off the girl’s dead body.”
“Do you know who it is?”
“Yeah, I looked him up on the way here. Some rich executive named Harrison Ross. The bastard is holding some kind of Gala tonight as if he didn’t just kill a little girl. Jesus fucking Christ……….How does he know about Laura?”
“Maybe he had someone follow you and overheard you talking about her?”
“Shit.” You shook your head, placing both your hands on top of your head, thinking back to the time that you had dinner with your dad at the pub. Considering how many people were there, it’s possible that any one of them could have been working for Ross. “This is all my fault.”
“What? No. None of this is your fault.”
“But still. If I had been more careful-” You stopped, turning towards your front door at the sound of footsteps.
“Who is it?” Yelena followed your gaze, her hand slowly reaching for her gun at her hip.
“It’s my dad, and Laura. They just got out of the elevator.” You breathed out before turning back to her. “Listen, I need you to look after Laura.”
“What, why? Y/n, what are you going to do?”
“What I have to do.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means.” Yelena hissed, making sure to keep her voice low so that your father would not overhear.
“Just promise me that you’ll look after her. My dad can’t know about this or else he’ll freak the fuck out and go on a rampage.” You grabbed Yelena’s hands. “Promise me you’ll do that.”
“……..Okay. I uh, I promise.”
“Thank you.” You gave her a hug before handing her a piece of paper. “I’m going to need you to take yourself and Laura to the address that’s on there.”
“Wait….isn’t this where-”
“Yeah I know. It’s the safest place you could be. Tell Stephen I owe him one.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’m just going to go to the Gala tonight and lock his ass up in jail and that’s it. I’ll be fine.” You reassured her, but the words seemed to hold no meaning, as if they were directed more towards you, a consolation of what tonight’s events might lead to, praying that whatever happened would lead to the better end of the alternatives. At this point, you weren’t so sure just what you were about to do.
Just a second later after you had finished your sentence, your front doorbell had rang. Taking in a deep breath and banishing the dark cloud that was held over your head, you went over to open it to see you father Logan and your little sister Laura standing out front.
“Hey kiddo.” Logan smiled at you.
“Look who it is.” You smiled back, going into his embrace as he kissed the top of your head.
“Geez.” Your father scrunched up his nose. “You smell like shit.”
“Yeah well you smell like cigars and cheap whiskey.”
“Hey.” Logan put his hands on his hips, amusement written on his face. “Sometimes the cheap stuff tastes better than that expensive fruit juice that you get.”
“I know my wines. You just have terrible taste.”
“I’m serious. You smell like you cuddled up to roadkill. The hell did you do, roll around in a cemetery?”
“I uh, just got back from a crime scene actually.”
“Sorry, sounds like shit. Who’s this?” Logan nodded behind you.
“Oh! Dad, you remember Yelena Belova.”
“Hi Y/n’s dad.” Yelena waved shyly before stuffing her hands in her pockets.
“Nice to meet you.” Logan gave her a polite nod before studying the features of your face. “Hey, you don’t look too good.”
“Huh? Yeah, I uh, haven’t been getting much sleep lately.”
“Something to do with your job huh. How’s the investigations?”
“Good. I mean, not good obviously because people are dead. But we have some leads and hopefully we’ll have the suspects apprehended before tomorrow.”
“Sounds like you need a vacation.”
“Bad guys don’t rest so neither do I.” You sighed, pushing back a strand of your loose hair before bending over to level yourself to your little sister with a soft smile. “Hey there Laura. How’s it going?”
"Laura say hi to your sister.” Logan gave her a small nudge.
You maintained the strained smile on your face, trying your best to seem as friendly as possible. You were happy to see her no doubt the less, especially since you never had much time to spend with her due to your work schedule and her being in school, but the look she gave you told you otherwise. Laura face was stoic underneath her sunglasses, and it seemed as if there wasn’t a single thought nor regard towards you in her eyes as she walked straight pass you into your apartment before plopping down on the couch without a single word in your direction, even ignoring Yelena’s little hello.
“Yup.” You popped your lips before standing back up. “She definitely hates me.”
"She doesn’t hate you. She’s just shy.” Logan quirked a brow at your pessimism before handing you her little suitcase. “Here’s all her things.”
“I’m pretty sure her eyes are filled with a deep resentment towards me behind those little sunglasses of hers. It’s like I shit in her bowl of cereal or something. Good thing she’s not Scott’s kid or else I would’ve been fucking obliterated by now.” You scoffed as you took Laura’s suitcase from him and set it to the side.
“If she hated you, we’d know. Just give her time.” Logan sighed. “She was like that towards me when I first met her. And watch your language around her. Don’t need her learning from our bad habits.”
“I’m sorry,” you sassed, holding your finger up to make a point, “but didn’t I just hear you say the poop word like two times now.”
“Yeah well I’m doing my best.”
“Well the resemblance is uncanny I’ll give you that.” You sighed as you rested your hand on your hip and turned back to see Laura sitting there with a scowl on her face. “The scowl, the brooding, the whole fuck off attitude and even right down to the eyebrows. She is 100% you’re kid.”
“Yeah and so are you.” Logan scoffed. “You nearly broke my nose when you first saw me, remember? And you’ve got a hell of a colorful language.”
“Looks like I got it from you.”
"Guess I raised you right then.” Logan chuckled. “You know, the professor position is still open back at the school. You wouldn’t have to put up with this anymore and you could finally get some damn good rest.”
"No, I know. You’ve mentioned it to me before but I just…I can’t just leave you know. Those criminals are still out there, hurting other people, innocent people.”
“What you mean to say is those badge wearing bastards have you in a chokehold.”
“Yeah well I could’ve been locked up forever for the crimes I committed.”
“Yeah, crimes you had no control over doing. Don’t those brains of theirs know those Hydra and Red Room bastards had you wired up.”
“It doesn’t work like that dad. And besides, I volunteered for this job, thought it would do me good.”
“Yeah, it’s doing you good alright. You look the same from when I first rescued you from Hydra, sleep deprived.”
“Well this isn’t exactly an easy job.” You snarked as you tried to maintain your point. “I knew what I signed up for dad. And to be honest, putting those criminals behind bars is worth every goddamn minute.”
“I know, I get it. I just don’t want you to get caught up in the same mess like I was. You’re still young.”
“Well I wouldn’t really call myself young.” You scoffed.
“I know that. There’s still time you know, for you to move on with your life and find something that doesn’t involve all this.” Logan leaned on your doorframe with his arms crossed. “I was thinking we all can move down to Canada. Build a home by the lake like you always wanted where you, me, and Laura can live in, together, as a family. You can even have all the animals you want.”
"I know. With mom gone it’s just-” You sighed, staring down at your hands and picking at the skin on your fingers. “I just….feel like I haven’t done enough for all the things that I had done, ya know?”
“If you keep letting the past haunt you and trying so desperately to go down that path of redemption you’re gonna find yourself stuck in a hole you can’t get out of.”
"Well, what can I say. We’re Howletts, it’s what we do.”
“Yeah.” Logan let a low chuckle. “You know, you could always take up boxing, or mma, go fight in the ring, make more money than you do here.”
“What, like what you did?” You scoffed with an amused raise of your brow. “You fought underground dad.”
“Yeah so. I can be your trainer and we can nickname you Iron Fist.” Logan teased.
“I’m pretty sure that’s taken.” You laughed.
“It is? What kinda punk took that name huh. Bet his fists aren’t even made of Iron.”
“Yeah okay dad.” You rolled your eyes.
“I’m serious. The offer at the school is still open.”
“…………I’ll think about.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Atta girl.” Logan ruffled your hear with a chuckle much to your annoyance. “Well I’m about to head out now.”
“So soon?”
“Yeah. I gotta get on the road.”
“Well it was nice seeing ya dad.” You smiled.
“Nice seein ya too kid. Just remember to be careful, don’t want ya to loose sight of who you are.”
“I won’t.”
“And if ya got any problems, I’m a phone call away. I’m here if you need me kid.”
You put on your best smile, trying your best not to think of the dead girl and the picture of her pale and stone-like face. After finding the card with Laura’s name on it, this new fear had suddenly overcome you, a fear that had shook you to the core more than anything you had ever experienced. The last time you were this afraid, you were captured for the Black Widow program and Hydra, but this, this was something else. Now you were terrified for the life of someone else, someone you cared about, and the thought of your sister lying dead in those cold dark woods made your blood run cold. You didn’t know what this killer was capable of, but one thing was for certain, you would rather risk your own life than let that pathetic excuse of a human come close to your sister. Logan trusted you with Laura’s life, and you were going to keep that promise. But you couldn’t let your father know about what happened, and though the thought of it irked you, it was a good thing you were trained at a young age to lie. “Thanks dad. I appreciate it, really.”
“Love ya kid.” Logan gave you one last hug and a kiss at the top of your head before saying his goodbyes to Laura and leaving down the hallway.
You watched him disappear into the elevator with a frown on your face, your fists clenching at your side before closing the door and staring into the worried face of Yelena. “You should pack a few things for yourself.”
Yelena stared back at you with a darkened look, her eyes searching yours while the ends of her lips turned down at the ends. “Y/n, I’m worried about you.”
“I know, I know. But you have to trust me on this. Please Yelena.”
“I already lost Natasha.”
“I know, I get it Yelena. But you have to trust me.”
“……….Fine. Fine. yah okay. But if you don’t make it back I swear-”
“You’ll find me and kill me yourself, I get it.” You looked at the time, seeing that it was only 3. “You should get ready to go.”
“…..okay.” Yelena sighed with a small nod of her head before going off to pack her things.
You looked down at your sister who had not moved from her seat on the couch, her face unmoving as she flipped through the channels on your TV. Going to the kitchen, you opened up the freezer to grab a small carton of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream and a spoon before sitting next to her on your couch. “Hey.”
Laura did not give a single response as she flipped through various channels before stopping on a channel that was playing Shrek.
“Good choice.” You glanced at the tv with a nod of approval. “I bought you ice cream btw. Little birdie told me you like Ben & Jerry’s Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream. And since dad is not one for knowing how to shop for groceries much, especially desserts, I bought you four of these so you can eat to your heart’s content.”
Laura looked at you sideways, glancing up at your face before eyeing the carton of ice cream in your hands.
“Go on, it’s all yours.” You handed her the carton and the spoon, smiling in relief as she finally took them from you after a moment of hesitation before opening the lid and popping a whole spoonful in her mouth.
“You know, Shrek is one of my favorite movies to watch. I can quote the whole movie from front to back, but don’t tell anyone I told you that.” You sat back with a smirk as you watched the movie with her for a bit until your phone began to ring in your pocket causing an annoyed sigh to escape your lips as you picked it up. “Hello?”
“Y/n?”
“Matt?” You scrunched your nose in confusion. Your irritated tone had caused Laura to side glance at you and listen in on the conversation to figure out what could have upset you. “The hell. You tryna give me a reason to block you?”
“Wha-no, no……..Is that….Shrek in the background?”
“Yeah. My sister is staying with me for a couple of months. The hell are you calling me for Murdock.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“Whatya need Matt?”
“I uh-might need your help.”
“Oh yeah?” you scoffed. “Seems like you’re asking an awful lot of favors from me lately.”
“I know…….I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m-urgh.” You heard him let out what sounded to be a pained groan on the other end.
“Jesus fucking christ. You’re hurt aren’t you.”
“…Yes.”
“And let me guess. You need me to come over to your place to patch you up because I definitely as hell ain’t letting your ass in my apartment.”
“………yes.”
“Christ’s sake Matt. Don’t you have any lady friends of yours that are nurses or doctors? In case you didn’t know the difference, I’m a psychiatrist, not a surgeon.”
“I know. But the nurse that I know is out of town and you’re the only other person that I trust.”
You let out a frustrated sigh, running your fingers through your hair before rubbing your temples. “……..Okay. Fine. I’ll head out right now.”
“Thanks y/n.”
“Don’t mention it.” You hung up before getting up from the couch and grabbing your keys from the counter.
“Were are you going?” Yelena questioned once she saw you searching for something.
“I gotta go uh….help an acquaintance. Would you happen to have a first aid kit by chance?”
“Yeah. I put it in your cabinet there. You don’t have one?”
“Well it’s not like a need one.” You scoffed as you opened up the wooden cabinet you had by the door and grabbed the first aid kit before throwing on your shoes. “Just make sure to keep an eye out yeah. And if anything happens, call Stephen, he’ can get here much quicker than I can. His number is on the paper I gave you.”
“I can handle myself.” Yelena raised her brow.
“I know you can. But you’re also human, and we don’t know anything about the possible threat. I’ll be back in about an hour and a half to two hours.”
You arrived at Matt’s apartment complex not long after, pulling your car up to the curb and letting the rumble of the engine run for a moment as you stared up at the the windows that belonged to his place. “God damn it Matt.” You cursed under your breath before getting out of your car and heading up to his place. You tapped your knuckles lightly on his door, hearing the sound of shuffling coming from inside until the door opened to reveal a rather disarranged looking Matt.
“Wow. You look like shit.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” Matt gave you an unamused smile before letting you inside.
“I see you’ve done absolutely nothing to cheer up your place. Dull as always.” You looked around with a distasteful look on your face as you swiped your finger on one of his tables to see dust coating your fingertip. “Yikes. This place could use a proper clean too. I wouldn’t be surprised if traces of the bubonic plague could be found here.”
“Haha very funny. You here to do an inspection?”
“Um, considering I have to be here, physically in this place of yours, yes. Now get your ass on the couch and take off your shirt.” You set your purse down on the table, opening it up to pull out the first aid kit before heading to the sink to wash your hands.
“How’s your sister Laura?” Matt called out from his spot on the couch.
Your breathing hitched just the faintest at the mention of her name, squeezing your eyes shut against the image of her name written across the card in large maroon letters. “She’s uh, she’s doing good. She hasn’t spoken a word to me but she’s good.”
“That’s good to hear. At least you get to spend some time with her.”
“Yeah.” You shook your head, banishing any thoughts related to the case and the event later tonight as to keep Matt from getting suspicious. “I have your file btw. I left some notes in there.”
“Wait, you’re done?” Matt blinked his eyes with a scrunch of his nose before turning his head towards where you stood by the sink. He was surprised that you had already gone through the file and made up a conclusion, especially since he had handed it to you this morning. “That was fast.”
“What can I say.” You let your hands dry off before walking over to where Matt sat on the couch. “I’m good at what I do.”
“Which is why I asked for your help.”
“Oh yeah?” You raised a brow as you slipped on a fresh pair of latex gloves. “Is that also why you called me here now instead of I don’t know, contacting someone else like Foggy.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I just like the sound of your voice.”
You scoffed at his statement with a shake of your head, trying to keep down the blush that started to spread through your cheeks and thankful for the fact that Matt couldn’t see it. “And how many other girls have you said that to? 5? 10?”
“Ahah.” Matt let out a soft chuckle. “Well maybe one.”
“Oh? So just one?”
“Okay, so maybe 2 others.”
“2 meaning 3 or 4.” You teased as you sat yourself down on his coffee table to start on his wounds only to let out a hiss at the sight of him. Large bruises and deep gashes lined his torso, painting a picture of grisly along with a cut that went down his forehead, stopping right below his temple. “Jesus Matt.”
“Judging from the tone of your voice, I don’t look too good.”
“Yeah no shit Sherlock. The hell happened? You get into a fight with Freddy Kreuger?”
“I guess you could call it that.”
“You guess?”
“Well the guy was pretty huge…..and he had a sword.”
“A big guy with a sword. Huh, sounds like Wade.”
“Who’s Wade?”
“This vigilante I ran into once. Likes to talk a lot, super annoying, but kinda funny. Did your guy crack any jokes?”
“Nah. No my guy was pretty quiet, spoke in short sentences.”
“Yeah that’s definitely not Wade.” You opened up the first aid kit and stared at the contents inside. “He would’ve shit at your little costume. Where is it anyways? Did you forget it at the dry cleaners for this fight?”
“I uh, need to get a new one.”
“Yeah. You do that.” You scoffed with a shake of your head. “So…..you see a big guy with a sword and you think it’s a good idea to tango with him. You know, for someone with a law degree from Columbia University, you sure as hell are an idiot.”
“So I’ve been told.” Matt chuckled.
Grabbing some cotton and disinfectant, you gently swabbed at his wounds, wiping off any excess blood and making sure to get rid of any possible traces of bacteria. You felt Matt’s muscles tense under your touch as he let out a hiss, looking up at his face to see his eyes shut in pain. “Hey…..you need some anesthetic for the pain?”
“Nah, I’m fine, thank you.”
You shook your head with a sigh, focusing on your less dominant hand and causing a small fire to be ignited from within your palms, the red tendrils weaving through your fingers as you held it up to your eye level.
“Wha-what are you doing?” Matt tilted his head after sensing the sudden change in temperature. He couldn’t help but feel apprehensive from the unnatural source of heat that sprouted from your hands, afraid that it might somehow spin out of control. After all, he wasn’t used to this sort of thing, especially not in person.
“I need to sterilize the needle before I start stitching up your wounds.” You muttered as you held the needle up to the flame, watching the point of the metal turn red. “And relax. I got it under control.”
“Thought you wouldn’t read my mind.”
“Well maybe try not to think so damn loud next time.” You smirked.
“I’ll uh, do my best, Doctor.”
You rolled your eyes at Matt’s comment before distinguishing the flame, letting the needle cool down for a bit before beginning to stich up his open wounds, causing Matt to wince each time the needle pierced his skin. “You know, you really gotta be careful next time.”
“Is that-don’t tell me you care about me Agent Howlett.” Matt gave you his signature smirk behind those glasses of his, the action causing your cheeks to heat up again while you only forced to keep your heart rate the same so that he wouldn’t notice.
“You know, considering that I’m the one with a needle in hand, I’d choose my next words wisely.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Well Matthew Michael Murdock, if that’s the case, I just might have to stab you.”
“Well what if I just like to get you riled up?”
You let out a scoff, his words catching you off guard. “You’ve got a lot of confidence for someone who gets their ass kicked all the time.”
“Ouch that hurt.” Matt feigned an insulted expression to which you let out a small laugh with a shake of your head.
“Keep talking. I’ve got plenty of insults.” You joked, straightening up a little to work on the cut on his forehead while Matt chuckled, smirking at the way you reacted.
There was a short silence between the two of you, the air around you returning to it’s serious atmosphere while you worked on his last wound until you heard Matt’s voice speak up again.
“Does it hurt?”
“What?” You scrunched your nose.
“Your hands, when they come out.”
“……Every time.”
“How do you go through with it?”
“I just do. The same way you keep fighting despite being beat up.”
“What about the fire?”
“It did at first. Shit. It hurt like hell the first time because I didn’t know how to control it while it engulfed every inch of me, especially since my body kept trying to heal. But once I learned to harness it, control it, it didn’t cause anymore pain. Now it just feels like being wrapped in a warm blanket.”
“At least you won’t need a heater during the winter months.”
“Yeah. I guess not.” You laughed at his little joke, finding yourself gazing at him with a smile once you had finished up his last wound before clearing your throat. “You’re uh. You’re all done by the way.”
“Thanks for this y/n. Really.” Matt smiled at you. “It means a lot.”
“Yeah well…..couldn’t have you bleed out in your own apartment now could I?”
“No, I guess not.” Matt smirked before tilting his head towards you, bringing his hands up to caress your cheek while he did so.
You ever so slightly gasped at his touch, his thumb leaving trails of goosebumps in its path against your skin. “Matt.” You breathed out with your eyes fluttered closed. You wanted to pull away, terrified of what this would lead to and yet, you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, tempted to be able to feel something for once. And though you tried so desperately to not let your feelings show, Matt knew the hold he had on you. But he also was aware of the hold you had on him, and it drove him over the edge. You found yourself reaching for him, your hand placing itself on his thigh to steady yourself while your breaths fanned each others faces.
“Y/n, about what happened before-”
“Oh shut up.” You cut him off before crashing your lips against his.
Matt sat frozen for a second, surprised by your movement before molding himself into your lips, his hands finding a way to your waist to pull you flush against him before resting a hand on the curve of your back. Matt moaned against your lips, craning his head out towards you with half shut eyes as you pulled away with a smirk at the sight of him being a mess beneath you while you placed your hand on his chest, pushing him down onto the couch before straddling his waist. Sliding your hand up to the bottom of his neck, you bent down to make out with him, your hand slowly making its way up against his skin before finally reaching the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. Running your fingers through his hair, you dragged your nails down his scalp, biting his bottom lip as you did so before clutching his hair and pulling his head back, eliciting a grunt of arousal to escape from his parted flushed lips. Smirking, you placed your lips behind his ear, pressing kisses down his jaw and neck while his hands slid up your thighs to clutch at the soft flesh of your hips while you grinded down against him. Matt let out a groan, bringing his hand up to wrap around your neck before reconnecting his lips with yours.
The two of you were a panting mess, both of your heightened senses making the current moment much more intense than if you didn’t possess the abilities you had. Matt’s hands were warm against your body, leaving goosebumps wherever they went despite you being fully clothed. Yet yours were life fire against his, your body heat raising in temperature from the way you felt. You felt Matt’s hand slide away from your neck, his fingers tracing up your skin in patterns and making its way to your hair before stopping at the touch of ice cold metal meeting his fingertips. The action had felt like an electric shock running through your spine, the brief contact making you gasp in fear as you yanked yourself away, moving yourself off him and pushing yourself back towards the opposite end of the couch.
“Y/n?” Matt had sensed your emotion, noticing how your heart rate had sped up incredibly and the way you had flinched away from when his fingers came into contact with the strange metal device that was embedded into your skin right below the back of your head near the top curve of your neck. “You okay?” Matt asked, but you did not answer.
Your eyes were glossed over, your body trembling as various images flashed before your eyes. You saw yourself in an operating room, fully awake and conscious and strapped down onto the operating table while the sound of a drill filled your ears in piercing screeches before being overcome with the screams of your own as a sharp pain spread down your spine and through the back of your head.
“Y/n.” Matt’s voice called out to you in echoes muffled behind the shadows of your visions until the touch of his hands gently placing themselves at the sides of your face brought you back. Barely breaking out of your daze in an unstable snarl of fury, you knocked Matt down onto the ground, placing your body over him as your claws slipped out of your knuckles with their sharp points hovering right over where his head was.
“Y/n.” Matt breathed out, attempting to stay calm despite feeling the sharp metal just barely grazing against the skin on his forehead. Though he couldn’t see the expression on your face, nor the rage behind your eyes, something told him that he wouldn’t have been able to recognize you in this moment. “It’s me. It’s okay.”
You blinked back the tears that had formed in your eyes amidst the terrors of your visions, your brows knitted together at the situation unfurled while a choked whisper escaped your lips. “Matt?”
“Hey. It’s okay. It’s alright.”
“I-I.” You choked out as you unsheathed your claws before getting off him. “Matt, I-I’m so sorry.”
“Hey it’s okay. You’re safe.”
“I could’ve-I could’ve killed you. I could’ve-” You mumbled, staring at him with widened eyes filled with disbelief at the thought of how you were just seconds away from killing someone you cared about.
“It’s okay, I’m fine.” Matt scooted closer only for you to stop him.
“Don’t.”
“Y/n.”
“Stay back Matt.” You spoke in a firmer tone before running your hands through your hair. “Jesus fucking christ. I tried to kill you. Don’t you see that?”
“But you didn’t.”
“But I could have! What if I couldn’t have been stopped huh? What then?” You shook your head before getting up. “I need to go.”
“Were are you going?” Matt stood up with you.
“Home.”
“Y/n wait. Something’s been bothering you since I last saw you. What’s going on?”
“None of your concern Matt.” You clenched your jaw, avoiding his face as you gathered all your things. “I left your file on the desk.”
“Look, I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe.”
“Yeah well I don’t need you to keep me safe okay.” You snapped. “I can take bullets, you can’t. If anything you should be keeping yourself safe from me.”
“Y/n wait.” Matt called out for you, standing in the center of the room with concern written across his features. But you did not respond, nor did you turn back just once as you walked out of his apartment, your heart rate slowing down to it’s steady rhythm. Matt silently listened to the sound of your footsteps getting fainter and fainter the farther away you went, until the loud rumble of your car’s engine started up, echoing in the street followed the screeching of your tires as you drove off, farther and farther away until he could no longer hear whatever was left of you.
Well, this is the end (or is it?) It’s actually not. There will be an epilogue/post credits scene to introduce us to Phase 2 of the YarnForBrains Literary Universe. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It’s been really hard to get myself together enough to post this because I love these two idiots. I don’t want to leave them, but just like Bucky, we all need to grow and move on. As always, thanks to @firefly-graphics for the graphics.
Warnings:This entire fucking fic is a warning at this point. You know what you’re getting into. WARNINGS: FEELS AHEAD.
You’d gotten pretty good at ditching phone calls over the past forty-eight hours. As soon as you slid into the backseat of the uber you’d called, both Bucky and Sam had started blowing up your phone. Their calls came one after the other, and you could picture them sitting side by side, taking turns calling you, yelling at and blaming the other when you didn’t pick up.
You hadn’t expected to become friends with Bucky Barnes when you moved into the Avengers Tower. You also hadn’t expected him to ask if maybe the phrase size does matter - went both ways?
TW: talk about penis size/bigger>smaller, masturbation, friends to lovers, slow burn, sexual tension, dry humping, attempted titty fucking, second hand embarrassment. Oral sex (f receiving), size kink, unprotected sex (p in v)
Warnings/Trigger Warning: Nothing really (DM if you think there is one and I’ll fix it)
A/N:Again, I am using they/them pronouns for our mystery soldier.
*This piece of work contains work made for the 18 and up crowd. Please read at your own discretion. Please do not copy and paste my work anywhere, you can reblog and share the links of my post. This work is cross posted onto WattPad and AO3 under the same title. Links to all my other social media can be found in the pinned post on my profile. Feedback is welcomed!
There they sat at the cafe, sipping on the coffee in front of them. They glanced out the window and saw them. The two that they’ve been after for quite some time. They leaned over into the bag next to them, everything they needed was in there to sedate them and bring them in. Closing the bag, they stood up and slung the bag over their shoulder. They dropped a large bill onto the table and left.
Following close behind, they recalled their plan on how to get them alone. First, they would take the man out. It would be a challenge given the metal arm. But they knew that once the man was out of play, it would be easy to get the woman.
Simple.
They reached into their bag to grab the syringe that held the sedative. As they brought it out of the bag, the woman turned around and they stopped dead in their tracks. They knew it took almost a year to finally locate them but what they saw, they didn’t expect.
The woman’s belly was round and swollen. She was maybe eight months pregnant. Her face looked tired and worn, but the glow in her eyes said it all. She muttered something to the man with the metal arm. He muttered something back and the woman squealed with joy and hugged him.
Then her eyes met with theirs.
Their heart stopped and they felt the blood drain from their face. They watched as the happiness left the woman’s face as she looked them over. They felt this constant pull on their heart as they slowly stepped back and out of sight. It wasn’t the fact that they were almost caught, it was the way that the woman looked at them.
Sadness? Disbelief? Recognition? Maybe all three?
“Nadia?” the man’s voice called out. “What is it?”
They watched from their small hiding spot as the woman pushed herself away from the man and walked around. Her head turned this way and that. “I thought I saw someone,” the woman, Nadia, replied.
“Who?” the man asked, taking hold of her shoulder.
“My brother,” Nadia said softly.
“But he’s dead,” the man said as he looked around with his bright blue eyes. “Are you sure it’s not the hormones making you see things, Doll?”
Nadia shook her head and smiled at the man. “I don’t know Bucky. We’ve been off the radar and hiding out for a few years, I guess I’m being too paranoid. I’m also hungry too.”
After Nadia and the man she called Bucky left, they made their way back to their small motel room and devised a better plan. They didn’t feel right having to sedate and kill a pregnant woman.
They’d have to wait until she had the baby to execute their plan.
After getting the all clear, Nadia and Bucky come out of hiding. They semi retire to a normal life for the sake of their infant daughter on Nadia’s family ranch. Things are going so well for them until they are attacked by a masked assassin. Nadia and Buck then realizes that both of their pasts still haunts them and it could kill them if they’re not careful.
This story contains content geared toward the 18+ crowed. If you are not 18 and up, please keep moving/scrolling along. I work really hard on all of my work, so please do not copy and paste anything you see anywhere without my permission and without giving me the proper credit. You are, however, allowed to share the links of this story with others and on other sites. The picture above was created by me, so if you save it and want to share it, please give me the proper credit. This story will also be available on WattPad, and Archive of our Own. Those links are in the pinned post on my profile. or in the Linktree in my bio!
A new recruit, Nadia “Nadie” Alekiev, is added to the Avengers team and captures the eye of Sgt. James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes on the very first day. The two form a friendship where the two of them are oblivious to the fact that they are head over heels into each other. Until one of them get jealous about a one night stand and a very important mission almost goes sideways while trying to prove corruption in the government that Nadia used to hold to a high standard and the same government that she believed killed her brother.
After getting the all clear, Nadia and Bucky come out of hiding. They semi retire to a normal life for the sake of their infant daughter on Nadia’s family ranch. Things are going so well for them until they are attacked by a masked assassin. Nadia and Buck then realizes that both of their pasts still haunts them and it could kill them if they’re not careful.
About:Someone hires an asassin to kill Bucky and Nadia.
Warnings/Trigger Warnings:
A/N:I wanted this to be like a little ‘post credit’ like thing. Very mysterious and this person will play a huge part in the sequel. Because I want this person to stay mysterious, I used They/Them pronouns.
Water dripped from the ceiling and onto the floor. There was hardly any kind of light except for the small, dim lamp in the corner. Nothing could be heard except for the deep breathing of the person that sat in the cell-like room. It was hard to tell how long they were in the cell for.
Hours?
Days?
Months?
Years?
It was hard to tell.
When the doors to the room opened, the light from the outside blinded this person who sat in the corner. They shield the light from their eyes until they had time to adjust to see the three other people standing in front of them. They didn’t say a word as they stared at the trio. They just waited to be told what their next job would be. It was the only time that they would be out of that dark, wet and God forsaken room.
The file the woman handed them, she had a sinister smile on her face. It was like she was getting some sick and twisted pleasure from handing them this assignment. They opened the file and there they tilted their head.
Two pictures of his next targets stared right back at him. One, the male, didn’t look familiar at all but he had the look of a killer in his eyes. It was the female that looked all too familiar to them. She was just as deadly as the man in the other picture.
“Who are these people?” they asked, looking up at the woman in front of them. He held the picture between two fingers.
“You’re targets,” she answered, crossing her arms. “James Barnes and Nadia Alekiev.”
Nadia, they thought in their head. Why did she look familiar and why did her name sound familiar? “Who wants them dead?” They asked, looking back at the picture of Nadia. They had a tugging pull at their heart.
“The former president,” the woman answered. “She’s paying good money to have them killed and all the information they leaked to be wiped gone. Do whatever you can. Can you do that, soldier?”
Nadia stepped out of the car and onto the patio of the White House. Her entire body was shaking, the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up and her heart was racing like a racehorse who began their race. Nadia’s mind was also racing. She had so many questions to ask the president and when she tried to ask over the phone, the president wouldn’t let her get a single word out. Except that she wanted to talk to Nadia in private.
Fury had seen the expression on Nadia’s face when the president asked about talking in Private. Natasha was also in the room, and Natasha let Nadia know that this didn’t sit well with her. That she should think about it. But Nadia already knew what she wanted.
Nadia agreed to the meeting.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Bucky pulled Nadia around by the arm. He and Steve had insisted that they come as moral support. Well, Steve was moral support, Bucky was there to make sure Nadia was safe. “You can always send me or Steve in there to tell the president that you change your mind.”
Nadia shook her head and licked her lips. “I got this,” Nadia rested a hand on Bucky’s. She looked up at him and saw how those blue eyes stared right into her dark one. He knew she wasn’t sure but respected that. “If I had to send someone in, then it would be Steve.”
“Why Steve?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow. There’s a hint of playfulness in his eyes that had Nadia’s lips twitching into a small smile.
“Because Steve will keep it diplomatic where as you,” Naida took a step closer to Bucky and hooked her index finger into a strap on his suit. She thought to the quickie the two of them shared before taking off a few hours before. “You’d probably be led out by the Secret Service or in handcuffs. Which I wouldn’t be opposed to as I seem to remember you liking them the other night.” Nadia winked at Bucky who smirked.
“You’re right,” Bucky’s hand slowly slid up to cup Nadia’s chin. “Just be careful. The government has given you every reason not to trust them.”
Nadia leaned forwards and gave Bucky a small peck on the cheek. “I will.”
Nadia turned on her heel and made her way towards the door where a man stood waiting. Instantly, Nadia got some weird vibes off him and turned to see both Steve and Bucky standing side by side with their arms crossed.
***
Bucky watched as Nadia turned towards the man and gave him a smile and shook his hand. Once they disappeared behind the closing doors, Bucky turned to Steve. “I don’t like this,” he said, dropping his arms. “This doesn’t feel right at all.”
“I’m sure everything will be fine, Buck,” Steve said. “Nadia knows how to handle herself.”
“I know that, Steve,” Bucky muttered. “It’s this whole government trying to silence anyone, like her brother. What if that’s what they wanted to meet or worse?”
Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “She’ll be fine, Buck.”
Bucky shrugged and crossed his arms again. “Probably a good thing I called Sam and have him laying low on some rooftop.”
“You did what?” Steve shook his head. “You know what, if it does turn ugly, probably having Sam nearby will help. But we aren’t going on the run again.”
Bucky and Steve stood there in silence waiting for Nadia to come out. Bucky still couldn’t shake that something was going to happen. Bucky cared for Nadia deepy, probably just as much as he cared for Steve. He’d do just about anything to make sure Steve and Nadia were safe.
Come to think of it, Bucky was starting to realize that he didn’t care for Nadia. He loved her and would probably use Steve as a body shield to make sure Nadia was safe and sound.
***
Nadia sat in the Oval Office and twiddled her thumbs around. She’s toured the White House a few times and has seen the Oval Office. But Nadia never spent more than a few minutes there. Here she was, going on almost thirty minutes of waiting for the president to come and talk with her.
To be honest, Nadia was nervous as hell. She had a feeling that something was going to go wrong. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, she needed to have Bucky in here with her. But the moment Nadia looked at her phone, she saw that she had no signal whatsoever. The feeling in Nadia’s gut got more intense.
“So,” a voice entered the room. Nadia turned to see the President of the United States waltz into the room. Her ginger hair flowing about her shoulders and her bright green eyes bore right into Nadias.
“What are we going to do with you? ”Her beige pantsuit looked a little too tight and Nadia was sure that a button would pop off them the moment she sat down.
“What?” Nadia asked. She instantly got a bad feeling about the woman in front of her. “I thought we were here to talk about my brother?”
The president leaned back and took a glass of water from her person next to her. “We are,” she answered after taking a long drink. “We are also going to discuss how you will stay quiet about all this. How does a mansion and yacht sound?”
***
Steve’s phone rang in his pocket. Without taking his eyes off the guard that was staring him and Bucky down, he reached into his pocket. “Hello?”
“Cap,” it was Sam. “It doesn’t look too pretty in there.”
“You have a visual on Nadia?” Cap whispered.
“Yep, Bucky told me to make it happen so I have Red Wing hovering close enough to see in.” Sam answered. “That dude that knew Nadia is in the room with her and the President.”
Steve turned to Bucky who was now staring at him. “The mission where that dude knew Nadia? What was his name?”
Bucky’s heart stopped. Of course he remembered this dude. He got a bad vibe off him right off the bat. “Timothy Ketch? What about him?”
“You guys may want to head in there,” Sam’s voice sounded concerned. “Nadia looks pissed as shit in there. I don’t think I’ve seen her face look that red and deadly.”
Steve hung up the phone and looked at Bucky. Bucky knew instantly that something was up. “Who are you calling now?” Bucky noticed Steve put his phone back to his ear.
“Hey, we have a situation. You’ve been compromised. Take everyone and head underground.” Steve hung up his phone again. “Let’s go.”
Bucky followed Steve into the White House and towards the Oval Office. The closer they got, the more Bucky could hear Nadia’s voice. She didn’t sound at all happy. In fact, Bucky could hear all the fowl language coming from Nadia’s mouth.
“No!” Nadia’s voice echoed around the corner. “Get your fucking hands off me.”
Steve and Bucky rounded the corner to see Nadia being held by two secret service men. The look on Nadia’s face brightened up when she saw them. Bucky saw a forming bruise on her hand and he knew that Nadia had thrown all she had into that punch.
“How’s the other guy?” Bucky asked, a smiled pulling on the corner of his lips. Steve nudged him. “What? I want to know?”
“Oh Tim,” Nadia chuckled then groaned. The two men that held her pushed her onto a wall. “I’m certain I broke his nose. Hey, fellas, gentle there I’m a woman. Or do you not care since I won’t comply with your order to shut the fuck up and tell no one about how you’re selling off soldiers.”
Steve stepped forward. “I’m going to need you to let her go.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” one of the men looked at Steve. “President Tyler ordered her to be arrested. She’s a traitor to the country.”
“Oh for fucks sake,” Nadia groaned and faster than the two men that held her, Nadia snapped her head back and hit one man. He let go and that was enough for Nadia to whip around and free herself from the other man by chi blocking him. “Now, that was kind of pathetic. You should have known to go up against someone your people have trained to sell off.” She knelt down next to the guy with limp arms and smiled an evil smile at him. “Not only that, but against an Avenger.”
Nadia stood up and looked at Steve and Bucky. “Clint has your family safe,” he whispered when Nadia was within ear shot.
“Good,” Nadia looked behind her and back at Steve and Bucky. “I have a press conference to go to. Call Stark, make sure he can keep at least one camera rolling.” Before the two men can say anything, Nadia quickly walked away.
“So she wants us to have Tony hack into the government?” Bucky asked, looking confused. Living for a little more than a century, there were times Bucky was still stuck in the 40’s. “Can he even do that?”
“He’s Howard’s kid,,” Steve answered. “He will be more than happy to.” Steve pulled out his phone and dialed Tony’s number.
Bucky turned to the nearest television and watched as Nadia took over. Her dark hair hung around her shoulders. He could see the small tremors of her hands. Nadia was nervous but the look in her eyes pretty much said that she was going to do this no matter the consequence.
As Nadia spoke, Bucky could hear the small shake in her voice but the firmness as she spoke of her brother, that told Bucky that she had it all under control. Bucky ignored the chaos that was ensuing around both him and Steve. No matter how many times the feed was cut off, it was always brought back. Tony was working hard to keep it all running. Bucky made a mental note to thank Tony for doing this.
Then something happened.
Reports were being made about how the press conference wasn’t just being broadcasted to those who were watching it on the news. It was being broadcasted just about everywhere from Malibu to London. Tony was making sure that it literally got everywhere.
Getting Nadia out wasn’t hard at all. Not after the threat she made, one that would have both Fury and Steve hiding her out until all this was blown over and taken care of. Bucky didn’t like the thought of having Nadia away so who knows how long. It literally made his heart ache. So he volunteered to go with her, to help keep her safe.
“I got you,” Bucky said as they loaded up the SUV with bags. “I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I’ll keep you safe, Doll.”
— Summary: If religion was the safe haven where Bucky found reasons to be alive and see the good in this world again, loving you was where he found the freedom to be more than just expectations once again. Human emotion, connection and need more than anything else. Also, devotion. Bucky already understood that one, but with you, it reached heights he never dreamt of before.
— Word count: 7.5k
— Warning(s):This work is intended for 18+ audiences. Minors, DNI. Explicit depictions of sex. Religious theme. Smut. I do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, or reuploaded on any other platform.This whole monstrosity is @buckspumpkin ’s fault <3
From the moment he met her to the moment they befriended.
Every step of the way, every interaction, smile, deep conversation outside the church, random encounters in the city—Bucky knew it. He was aware of it, and yet, he did it anyway. He fell for the power in your voice, for the mind behind those eyes, for the soft and electrifying touch of your hands. Bucky was presented with temptation and he fought it until he longer wanted to. Until all that was left inside of him was desire, longing, and need. Temptation won, but only because there was no game anymore: Bucky was presented with you in his life, and for the first time in many long years, his life expanded once again.
From the moment Laura brought you to the Church’s congregation party for the holidays and introduced you, he knew he should stay away.
It was the eyes.
Laura pointed at you, and said, “Father, this is Y/n, my best friend who I’m always talking about.”
He had been polite back then. Bit down on his usual winning smile when meeting new people because something about the glint in your eyes hooked a piece of his chest when they met his.
Bucky had given you the polite smile, and said. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you. Nice to meet you, I’m Father James.”
He extended his hand, which you shook without breaking eye contact.
Then, you said: “Nice to meet you, Father,” and Bucky’s insides burned despite the cold weather surrounding him.
That day, he couldn’t escape fast enough.
You were a friend of one of his congregates, so there was no way he could be rude, but every time he glanced in the direction where you were, talking and smiling with other people who frequented the church, your eyes met his and Bucky felt like a deer caught in the headlines.
An animal in the jungle, like one of his favorite documentaries—he suddenly understood the prey when they felt the eyes of tigers and lions on them.
Frozen.
Bucky’s throat felt dry every time you did it. You looked at him over the rim of your cup, and it was like your eyes searched for something, and they could see beyond his cassock and coat.
Whatever you were looking for, Bucky wanted no part in helping you find out.
She’ll be gone by the end of the day, he thought all night long. There’s no need to worry.
If only he knew.
ㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ — ✞ —
ㅤ
It was a fun discovery to learn that while you believed in nothing, you believed in everything at the same time.
It took Bucky three months of meeting you outside the Church when you picked up Laura from the masses and having brief, but sweet exchanges with you to accept the fact that you were a really nice person.
Funny, intelligent, sweet.
He stopped escaping whenever you were around. Stopped running away whenever Laura brought you by force to one of the fairs or events, and surrendered with ease to the reality of it all: apart from your non-belief, you seemed like someone he’d be close friends with.
Which is where you two ended up after he found you drunk at the city square and walked you home.
That was the first conversation ice-breaker. And from then on, Bucky simply accepted you.
Which meant you know popped up outside the church with good beer and the newest thing you were reading about regarding space to talk to him.
For those visits, you usually showed up at the end of the day, after your work hours. You stayed for a couple of hours talking to him about nonsensical things until a real topic was approached and you two shared things that Bucky forgot he thought about sometimes.
“You know, these are starting to feel like my own confessional,” he offered.
You chuckled, hiding behind your beer. He still saw the way your nose scrunched. “I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a compliment or not.”
“It is!” He laughed. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Why wouldn’t—Father. C'mon. Those things are creepy as hell.”
“First of all: blasphemy. Second of all—stop laughing, I’m serious. That was very blasphemous.” He adored listening to your silly laughter. “And second of all: they are not creepy. They’re just… methodic.”
“Yeah, the method being ‘scare people until they talk’. I’ll give it to the Church: clever, at least.”
He’s thinking about that day and the things you said about the hour of Twilight when he hears the doorbell.
Bucky halts everything he’s doing.
It couldn’t be you.
He looks at the clock—00:52.
Fuck.
What were you doing here?
This week had been hell, both figuratively and literally.
The tragedy that happened in the city and the heartache that followed everyone like a dark cloud ended up inside his church, as darkness usually does. It’s where it goes to be diluted, but being the tool of change as he is, Bucky’s the one who ends up feeling like a truck ran over his back.
Itcouldn’t be you.
Bucky heard from Laura about how pissed off you were about everything. 'Religious people and their ways of meddling in people’s lives and their bodies and their ways of handling life’, as you claimed, and everything wrong attached to it.
He hadn’t seen you around the city all week long.
“James Buchanan!”
That is definitely your voice.
Bucky swears under his breath, puts on the first hoodie he sees, and doesn’t even bother checking on his reflection to know he looks like shit.
He’s tipsy and tired, and there’s no need to bother putting out his tobacco before he goes downstairs to open the back door for you.
Out of all the people who could see him in this state, you’d be the last one to judge him.
When he opens the door, he sees you’re on the same boat as he is.
Tired, and trying to cope.
He sighs, opening the door wider. “Thought you had eloped town by now.”
“I unfortunately am stuck to this hell hole.”
Turning around, he sees you taking off your boots and placing them on the shoe rack.
“Put on a slipper, it’s still wet outside,” he tells you. “I was going to bed.”
Behind him, he hears the sound of you scoffing. “No, you weren’t.”
“Yes, I was,” he argues.
What follows is silence, and Bucky sighs. You know him too well.
He opens the door that leads to his small herbs garden outside where two chairs are already placed next to each other and waits for you to make yourself at home.
He wonders if it’s one of thosedays.
“You know… you’re really nice to talk to, Father James.”
He kind of hated when you called him that. It felt teasing. Laced in the taste of wine.
“Do you?”
“I do. You don’t shy away from answering questions. People nowadays don’t wanna have conversations. It’s exhausting. You, though—you… think about it. Answer me. I can talk without feeling like I’m being judged—”
“Oh, sometimes you definitely are.”
He likes your laughter. The more it sounds like this—free and caught off guard, the more delicious it is.
“I’ll take your word for it.That was just me wanting to thank you for being a nice ear, I guess.”
“The same goes for you.”
It’s becoming more and more common for Bucky to be stuck in a memory of you before reality calls him back to the moment.
The door clicks behind him and he looks over his shoulder to see you holding two beers, a cigarette in one hand, and the tiredness in your shoulders.
Dropping your body to the chair next to his, you hand him the beer and then light up your cigarette.
For a while, all you two do is sit there sharing sips of your drinks and looking at the brick wall ahead of you. Bucky’s hyper-aware of you and your movements, as always, and notices from the corner of his eyes when you start distracting yourself with the new flowers in his garden.
It’s when he sees a single tear running down your cheek that his body comes alive.
Bucky feels alert in a second.
Sick to his stomach.
He wants to reach out and clean the tear from your cheek, but it wouldn’t take away the pain that let it fall.
He waits, though, because he knows you wouldn’t be here unless you wanted to talk about it.
Then it hits him—she trusts me.
He has to swallow that pill down with large gulps because it would get stuck in his throat otherwise.
He remembers as clear as day hearing you say how hard it was for you to trust people. To let people in.
“Sometimes, I barely want most people in this town to know I’m a human being. The less they see of me the better, you know? They’re just—fucking vultures. Waiting for a sign of weakness to start roaming your body and getting to pick it apart.”
Through the sips of his beer, Bucky wonders how many people have seen you cry other than him.
You clear his throat next to him, and all thoughts are vacant from his mind.
He turns his head to you, attention solely focused.
“Did you do a mass?” You ask, voice rough as sandpaper.
You’re questioning whether the people who died got a mass this week. Bucky has to breathe through the ’why do you ask, why, but WHY’ and simply answers. “I did, yeah.”
You nod, sniffle and clear your face in your sleeve. “Cool. That’s good.”
Bucky feels he’ll puke if he doesn’t get a little more than that, so he takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he can be brave. “There’ll be a lantern reunion at the lake.”
You turn to him, eyes red and vulnerable, and Bucky has to grip tighter on the can to stop himself from cleaning your tear-stained cheeks once again. “A what?”
“A lantern reunion. It was Laura’s idea, actually,” your friend was a blessing to his congregation, and it made Bucky smile a little to think so. “People from the congregation will go in a fortnight to the city lake a little further in the mountains and light up little candles in their names. Push it into the lake as sort of a goodbye and a desire for good passage.”
“Into heaven?” you ask, smiling sarcastically.
Bucky’s gotten so used to it that it doesn’t even rattle him anymore.
“Into anywhere,” he answers.
The sarcasm drops from your face like rain does out of nowhere from the sky, and you sigh. “That’s nice.”
“Is it?”
“It is.” You take a sip, and Bucky feels it in his chest the blow before it comes. “Naya would’ve loved it. Probably reminded her of Tangled or something like that.”
The name hits clear as day as part of the list Bucky read on Sunday.
“Was she a friend?” He asks.
You shake your head. “Goddaughter.”
Your jawline is sharper than ever before. Razor-sharp. Bucky realizes when he pays attention to more than just your eyes, the usual lovely, deep, and telling eyes, that the rest of your face lacks any of your kindness and softness—you’re angry. Properly raging, he imagines.
It’s the first time he’s seen the emotion on you, and it rattles something in the attics of Bucky’s brain.
Ghosts of his past, of guns, violence, and the range that humans could go to.
“Tell me about her,” the words fall from his lips, and Bucky feels like prey once more when your eyes snap back to him. “If you want to, of course. I—I’d like to hear it.”
For a moment, you only watch him, eyes searching all over his face.
“Why?” You ask.
Bucky shrugs his shoulder, sipping a little more. “Because… offering my condolences won’t do any good, although you do have them. And talking about the occurrence serves no purpose, either.” Both of those options are weak at best. “Hearing about who your goddaughter was, on the other hand, sounds nice.” He wonders how close you two were. Was she the daughter of a best friend? Bucky knew you had no sisters. “D'you have sisters?” He asks to confirm. “I thought you didn’t.”
The ghost of a real smile appears on your face. “I don’t.”
“Right.”
“She's—was… she was my best friend’s daughter. Hugh.” The smile turns more real than ghost-like. “He and I have been friends since middle school.”
Wow. That’s longer than Bucky’s been in this town. “That is a long time.”
“Notthat long, c'mon Father. Don’t call me old.”
Bucky laughs. “You’re not a sweet summer child, that’s for sure.”
“Wow!” You say, joining him in laughter.
“Your generation is a mystery to me, I’ll tell you that.”
“Ugh—there you go again with 'your generation’. You’re not that much older than me, Father,” you give him a pointed look.
Bucky hums. “I beg to differ. There’s more than a decade bridging this,” he gestures between you and him.
“Fine,old man. Whatever you say,” you chuckle, and sip the rest of your beer, crushing the can in your hands. “Anyway. Hugh’s not usually here—he works two towns over most of the time.”
“Is he married?” He asks out of curiosity.
You shake your head. “Nope. Naya’s mom was a fling.”
“Got it.” From that, he deduced you had a lot to do with the girl while growing up. “Was she a lot like you?”
You laugh. “A mix of Hugh and me, yeah. I spoiled her quite a lot.”
Bucky smiles. “Tell me more.”
And you do.
Bucky listens to you tell him about Naya, and she comes to life inside his mind.
He saw the picture of everyone involved, but now he can see the glint she had in her eyes, the quirks you mention, the passions in her heart.
He does his best to stay present in the conversation, letting go of any pain related to the tragedy in order to give you a good ear as you mentioned he has.
It hurts almost as much as if he was thinking about it all.
The oscillations in your smile between heartbroken and sad, and heartfelt. He feels the changes like shrapnel under his skin.
After a few more beers, the talk changes every now and then. From kids to raising them without parents, to the dangers surrounding newer generations—like always, talking to you is a rollercoaster of topics, and Bucky thinks he’s done a good job of taking your mind out of the dark places it was.
Until you stop, look at the wall in front of you again, and the tears start streaming down again.
Bucky’s heart breaks all over the wet ground, getting dirt all over the pieces.
He’s closing the distance between your bodies before he thinks better of it.
His arms wrap around your shoulders and you bury your face in his chest, letting go of your pain in the safe space of his arms.
Bucky lets you cry for as long as you need to, and when the quiet sobs diminish to only your sniffling, he still holds you close.
“I feel… like barbed wire. I don’t know.” Your voice is thick with emotion, and Bucky squeezes around you subconsciously. “There’s so much rage inside me, Buck.”
“That’s okay. It’s the normal thing to fill you.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew all the things I’m thinking. I—I’m not the best person ever, but the things I’d do right now…”
Bucky shakes his head. You’re human, he thinks. “You’re a good person even with those thoughts.”
“You don’t know that,” you argued.
“I do, though,” Bucky counters. “All the things you want are a response, not an initiative. That’s how I know.”
At that, you stay in silence. Bucky feels you moving your head—before, you had your forehead resting against his chest, but now you move your head to the side and lay your cheeks against him, making yourself comfortable.
“You’d judge me, though,” your voice is barely above a whisper. “They’re horrible things.”
Bucky scoffs. “I’ve done my fair share of horrible things in life, Y/n. I’ll never be in any position to truly judge someone else,” he tells you.
Then it hits him—I trust her too.
“I don’t believe that,” you whisper.
“It’s the truth.” Bucky’s past is his own, but he allows you to have this. “I was a tool for a long time, one that did many wrong things. I hardly think that you wanting to kill the people who did this with your bare hands is something so atrocious.”
“I’d think you’d judge upon murder, Father.”
“Not my place to do so,” and if he was being honest with himself, never would be. The things he believed in were symbolic.
“Is this what a confessional feels like?” you ask with a chuckle.
Bucky rests his head on top of yours. “It’s the idea.”
“I like it. It’s not so bad.” You take a deep breath, and Bucky feels it.
I like it too, he thinks. Why does it feel mutual?
“D'you want some food?” he asks. He needs something to do with his hands that doesn’t involve holding you.
It takes you a moment to answer. “Sure.” You pull your head back a few inches to look up at him, and the smile he sees in your eyes takes his breath away. “Thanks, Father.”
This feels as holy as any of my prayers.
Bucky feels dizzy.
“Thanks for trusting me,” he answers, and then lets you go. His arms feel empty and cold the minute they leave your frame. “C'mon. I’ll make us sandwiches.”
“That’s not food,” you argue behind him.
“It is in this house,” he rolls his eyes, knowing you’re just doing it to tease him. “Ungrateful youth, I swear.”
“I’m not being ungrateful, I’m being factual. You know, back during the Roman Empire in Grece, they…”
ㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ — ✞ —
ㅤ
The night of grief changes nothing and everything at the same time.
Bucky knew you were a person beneath all the exterior of perfection, but it takes seeing you cry for him to realize why he deemed everything he saw to be that way—he saw beauty even in your imperfections. He met you by chance, befriended you by fate, and because the Universe wrote you and him to be this way, something about your existence read as beautiful from top to bottom. Breathtaking. It never occurred to him that he’d find something else to look at and see unadulterated and raw light, but there you were. Whether it was talking to friends, working, running past him at eight in the morning, or crying in his arms, the aura around you glowed in holy light, and Bucky had only one night of absolute existential crisis before acceptance washed over him.
He might have found his peace in god, but the god he believed in never excluded the Nirvana existing in love.
Accepting things as they were hurt much less.
Everything about him felt holy.
The whole month you stayed away from him, that’s all you could think about.
Bucky felt holy. His blue eyes on you, the gentleness in his words, and the shy cocking of his neck whenever he was under the light of a compliment—holy, holy, holy.
That’s why you hated how much you desired to corrupt all the purity within every thought permeated by him.
It made you a little sick at first. Desiring him and still talking to him normally as if you didn’t touch yourself to thoughts of Bucky fucking you and stretching you around his cock while filth dripping from his lips was a hard task, but no one could say you were one to shy away from a challenge.
All of that goes away when he cooks for you.
Theshame in wanting him.
From that day on, you allow your mind to drift wherever it pleases.
To his words, his eyes, his lips, the feeling of how strong his arms were — how did I miss that, what is that damn black thing hiding, why does it feel so warm and firm, oh my god — and anything in between. His voice. The way he curses under his breath as if Jesus is not listening if he talks low enough. How much lower his voice can go.
Letting all those thoughts roam free is both a blessing and a curse.
When you see him the day following a dream where Bucky did all the things your mind wanted him to and a bit more, you realize where the curse part walks in.
It’shard looking him in the eye when you have vivid images of his hand gripping your neck. It’s sad that all you have is images, but they’re more than enough to make you take a step back every now and then.
You can’t get wet if you don’t get a whiff of his perfume.
Can’t feel embarrassed and hot all over if he doesn’t make one of his silly jokes under his breath.
It takes you a few weeks of escaping him here and there before you receive it, at 11:50 pm on a Monday night:
What would you say if I told you I need my confessional bubble?
The message stares at you, and you stare back.
The feeling of his hug around you comes to you like the scent of someone being dragged by the wind.
Where are you?
The church. I was organizing some stuff. Come over?
Not one to say no to him, you drive there with your heart beating in your palms and the familiar knot on your throat of someone haunted by their own thoughts.
At the church, you find Bucky with a glass in his hands and all the pictures and remains of the shrines packed in one corner.
“Evening, Father.”
Bucky turns around sharply, and you see that he’s not drunk nor tipsy yet. His look is sober, and his eyes lighten in color when they see you.
“Hey.” He points to the stuff on the floor. “I’m gonna put this in the back. I’ll be back in a minute—you’re very fast. How fast did you drive?”
Probablytoo fast because I was anxious. “Maybe you’re just slow, Father James.”
Bucky’s eyes narrow, and your mind goes oh-oh. He looks at you with narrowing eyes, but then the mirth is back on his face. “Ha ha.” He picks up the boxes. “I’ll be back.”
“Won’t I burn in your absence?” You call after him, trying to contain your smile.
Bucky looks over his shoulder just so you can see him rolling his eyes.
You chuckle. Was there even a need to be nervous?
This is Bucky.
James.Father James. He’s a good guy, and a great friend, and a pretty funny person for someone who is so mysterious.
In his absence, you start walking aimlessly through the church.
You’re here very rarely. Paying attention to the details of it is not the first thing in your mind but, with nothing to do, you notice all the beauty in the place: the colorful glasses, how polished and shiny the wood benches and every other wood surface looks, and then it catches your eyes.
On the far right corner, close to the altar, there it is.
The confessional.
You’re walking to it before you notice what you’re doing.
It’s bigger than you expected.
Your hand comes up to touch the wood and its patterns—the velvet drape which closes one of the sides is blood red, and you raise both eyebrows at it.
Gorgeous.
The other side is closed with a wooden door, though. You imagine it’s where the priest enters, and because you’re friends with the one who runs this church, you let yourself in.
The space is big enough to fit two adults if they’re squeezed close together.
You take a seat, looking over the side where you can see very little from the open spots in the wood.
Then, you hear his footsteps coming back out there.
“Y/n?” He calls out, sounding confused.
You think about coming out, but then…
Confessional bubble.
You open the door minimally, put only your hand outside, and wave. “Here,” you singsong.
There’s a second of silence in which you wonder if Bucky is genuinely offended for the first time about something you’re doing, but then you hear his laughter approaching.
You hear his body passing through the drapes and sitting next to you.
“Not where I’d expect to find you,” he says from the other side.
It’s with the first sentence that you realize what a terrible, miscalculated, poor idea this was.
Your senses go from 0 to 100 in a second. They’re all tunneled to his voice, and you can smell his perfume permeating the small space.
“Y/n?”
“I was curious,” you answer. Your voice is low, and you swallow down the nervousness. It should be fine. What could go wrong? “Plus… this seems like a cool bubble.”
“I told you it was, you never trusted me in that,” he answers.
You chuckle. “I didn’t know about all the velvet.” And the stripping of your senses. God, I feel dizzy.
“It’s charming, isn’t it?”
You are, your traitorous mind replies. “Yup.” You take a deep through your mouth and let it out slowly. “What was in your mind, young padawan?”
Bucky laughs. “Wrong religion.”
“Right, my bad—what’s in your mind, my sheep?”
“You’re not so bad at this.”
“And you’re great at deflecting,” you bite back, smiling already. Your body relaxes on its seat, and you start picking on your t-shirt. “I thought you wanted to talk.”
“I did.” Bucky hums. “Didn’t think you wanted to, though.”
What?“What?”
“I was gonna ask you to go grab a bite with me so I could hear how you’ve been doing these past couple of weeks. I haven’t seen much of you,” his voice sounds a little small, and you hate yourself for a second. “I imagine you’re busy.”
Does trying to get rid of thoughts of you naked count as busy?
You bite your bottom lip nervously. “Not that busy,” you reply. “Just… processing.”
“Right. I thought about that too,” he says. Bucky takes a deep breath and you can hear that too. “I just… missed your company.”
You smile at that. “Awn. Thanks, Buck. I missed you too.”
“Did you?”
“Of course,” you say. “You know I like company better than most. More than, like, 99% of this town, for sure.”
“I’m flattered,” he chuckles. “I thought I did something wrong, that’s all. I—you’d tell me if I had, right?”
That ties knots inside your brain. Your neurons seem to clash with each other, and you look from side to side trying to find out if that was a joke.
“What could you possibly have done to me?” You ask with laughter.
“Dunno.” Bucky seems to be thinking, so you wait. “I can be annoying sometimes.”
“Have you met me?”
He laughs again. “You’re peculiar.”
“Most people go for 'annoying’.”
“Most people are pussies,” he replies back so quickly that you burst out laughing.
“Father James!” You tell him in a reprehending tone. “This is not the place for such language.”
“I think you’ll find out that we’re in the only place of holy grounds where you can say whatever the fuck you want,” he chuckles.
“Is that so?”
You can almost see him shrugging his shoulders. “It’s how I always felt.”
“Cool. This is the blind spot, then?”
“Exactly.” Bucky seems to be tapping on the wood, and you recognize his nervous tick. “Maybe you can use the blind spot to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me, then.”
Shit.
The silence is as much of a confession as you trying to play it dumb would be.
“Y/n…”
You hate how he makes your name sounds like a plea.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you tell him. “I swear.”
There’s a heartbeat of silence, and Bucky seems to believe you. “Okay.” The sound of a thud tells you he rested his head against the wall at the back, and you do the same. “So… did something happen? To you, I mean.”
Yeah, you did.
Thinking that’s not the reply he wants, you hum thoughtfully. “I’m… trying to work with life’s limitations.”
There’s another moment of quiet, and then Bucky snorts. “That was vague as shit, Y/n.”
“It’s the truth!” you laugh.
“I know it is, but it doesn’t explain anything,” he counters. “What limitations?”
How do I answer this? How do I tell him it’s him without putting him under the spotlight? I don’t wanna lose you, Bucky. I like what we have. I like this.
You like him.
“No judgments. Remember?” He asks.
Fuck. Fine, here goes nothing, you think. “I… have been thinking a lot. About someone. In ways that I’m not sure this person would want me to.”
Out of all the silences, this is the heaviest one.
You hear him breathing in deep, and it feels like his body has strings attached to yours.
“You’re insecure about having… feelings for this person?” His voice is rough. Carefully curated out of any emotions.
You realize you’re speaking to Father James rather than Bucky.
“Kinda,” you reply, surprised that you don’t care about the switch in roles.
“Why would they be bothered?”
The million-dollar questions.
Your palms are sweating. Your body has the low humming of when blood is pumping everywhere at a higher speed, and all the anxiety you had when you first saw his message rushes back.
“'Cause I’m pretty sure they’d view it as… something bad,” you reply.
“Feelings are never bad.”
“No?”
“No. They’re natural. The person might not want them, but if they view them as bad, that means they’re not worthy of it.”
“No—what I meant is—maybe they would feel bad about being on the receiving end of it.”
“Again, that makes no sense. Why would they be offended by it?”
“I don’t know. 'Cause they don’t want me?”
“That’s their loss. Still doesn’t mean your feelings are bad. They could be unreciprocated, but never bad.”
“Maybe that’s what I’m scared of,” you confess. Fuck, this thing works. “I don’t wanna face the fact that it could never be mutual.”
“Thatis scary,” he whispers. You still hear it.
“Yeah.”
“You’ll never know, though. Unless you tell them, you can’t know if it is or not.”
You laugh, humorlessly. “I don’t think I need to. Not for this.”
“Why not?” asks Bucky.
“Because the chances of him wanting me or anything are slim to none.”
“I find that hard to be true, Y/n.”
“What percentage of priests lead a personal life outside their calling, Father James?”
The question comes out breathless and it finishes the job of setting your body on fire.
On the other side, the silence is deafening. You can’t see him, but your mind paints the picture easily: Bucky standing there, frozen in his spot as the realization dawns on him.
Then, his reply comes and what was left of your body turns to dust.
“A low percentage. But some of us do.”
You have to bite your bottom lip to swallow a whine. His name still comes out. “Bucky.”
“You’ve been thinking about me all this time and you thought I would be upset about it?” He sounds breathless. Your body is not only alive now, but it’s also starting to respond to the drop in his voice.
“They’re not very holy thoughts,” you chuckle humorlessly.
“Tell me.”
Two words and your legs constrict against one another. Your core feels like a furnace, heating up more and more by the second.
“I… are you serious?”
“Very.” Bucky sounds as affected as you. “Tell me what thoughts were so bad they drove you away from me.”
“I… I had dreams.” You want to touch yourself so badly that you start squirming in your seat. “About you.”
All he does is hum in reply.
“You kissed me. And then… you told me I was going to accept all that you wanted to give me. And I said yes. So you started to get… more—of me. You took off my clothes. And said you needed to let out some… steam. To let out some things that have been inside of you.”
There, your words were cut short.
The images of Bucky kneeling in front of you and eating you out like he never had a meal before in his life.
“Go on,” his voice breaks through the smoke.
It sounds like an order.
Your body shudders, and you try to grip on reality before the dreams take over. “You ate me out.” The whisper sounds louder than any of his sermons you had the pleasure of hearing. “And…” I can’t say it. I can’t. You can feel the wetness dripping to your panties, and you have to sit on top of your hands to stop them from starting to roam your body.
“Finish it.”
Where did he learn to command people like that?
“I asked to do the same.” How could you not? All you wanted was to choke on the weight of Bucky on your tongue. “And then you fucked me. Slowly. And… kept telling me about how long it had been. How good it felt to stretch me out.” Why am I going into details? You whimper. “Bucky.”
“Is that why you were away? You dreamt about me being inside of you and that’s it—your brain stopped working around me?”
“I got off to those dreams too many times to not think about them when I saw you.”
“Fuck.” Bucky must move next to you because you hear the sound of his clothes ruffling. “You touched yourself thinking about them?”
“Yeah.”
You hear his breath intake, and the next sound drops your heart to your feet.
Bucky gets up, the drapes ruffle and then, the door of the confessional is opening.
The sight of Bucky standing tall over you with his black t-shirt tucked inside his pants and the tent of his dick straining against his slacks makes your mouth dry before it starts to water.
“Show me,” says Bucky. Then he drops to his knees in front of you, reaches both hands to your knees, and places them there. He looks up into your eyes to ask, “Can I?” and you nod, dumbly and shaking, as Bucky spreads your knees open. You’re wearing loose pants, and his hands go further up to their hem so he can pull them down.
Allowing him to leave you in nothing but your panties feels like a fever dream.
With your pants pooling in your ankles, Bucky lets hands drag on the skin of your legs and thighs.
“You’re right,” he says. “It’s been years.” His hands reach your waist, and your shaking comes to a halt with the firmness that they touch your pelvis bones. “And yet, I think I’ve thought more about pleasure and connection these past months than I did my whole life.” Bucky moves his body closer until he’s nestled between your legs, and when his head inches closer to your cunt you realize what he’s about to do, whining at the thought. “I dreamt about this, too.”
He presses his nose on the hood of your pussy, inhaling deeply and making your legs turn from solid to liquid.
Bucky runs his nose there, and when he hums against your core, you feel it inside of you. “You smell so fucking good, dove.”
“Oh,god.”
Bucky gropes your ass and shakes his head. “No. Forgot my name already?”
“James, please. Please,” you whine, your legs coming up to his shoulders.
He lets you, helping your legs to secure around his neck, and when you look down and see he’s smiling, you know you’re fucked.
“It’s been a while, so let me take my time. I think I still remember how to do this,” Bucky says.
Then, he pushes your panties to the side and groans out loud.
“So fucking wet for me. Shit.” He pushes his nose again, getting it wet with your slick. “Fuck,” he dives in.
Bucky’s tongue gives gentle licks against your clit, as if savoring it first.
When he feels your legs spreading wider and he has more room to work with, he truly starts his job. His tongue licks on your folds, then dips from the bottom all the way up, licking a stripe across your cunt before his mouth attaches itself to your clit.
Bucky sucks on the hard nub with his tongue, alternating between slow and hard-pressured jabs to quick flicks of his tongue from side to side.
Your hands are covering your mouth to stop the screams from coming out.
He slurps on the slick and the more the works his tongue on your clit and then pushes down to your open cunt, the wetter you get.
Time ceases to exist with Bucky knelt between your legs.
He goes slow, then fast, then very slow just to hear your whines getting louder. He laughs in your pussy, and the vibrations crawl up inside of you.
At one point he looks up and with a hard grope on the back of your thighs gets your attention on him again.
His beard is glistening, wet. He’s smiling like he’s seeing something funny for the first time in ages, and when he asks, “Do you like penetration?” as if he doesn’t know the answer, you feel like crying.
“Please.”
He takes pity on you. “It’s okay, dove.” Bucky’s right hand leaves your legs and his fingers join his mouth between your legs. He coats his fingers in your slick before he pushes the middle one all the way in, slowly at first, then he removes it all the way and pushes back in with his tongue.
“Bucky!”
“Hmhm,” he hums against your pussy. “Is this what you dreamt of, dove?” He asks before latching onto you again and sucking on your clit like it’s a lollipop.
The coil in your lower stomach seems like a rubber band ready to snap, but you need more.
“Bucky. Bucky,” you call.
“Hm?”
“I wanna cum with you inside me. Please?”
Bucky’s hand squeezes involuntarily on your leg. He looks up and kisses your inner thigh. “You do?”
“Please.”
“Will you let me take you for a bite afterward since I couldn’t help myself and I’m doing everything backward?” He asks, already getting up.
You nod a bit desperately. “I’ll let you bite anything, just—please.”
He laughs. “Get up.”
You do, and it’s a tight squeeze to switch places with him, but you two manage. Bucky sits on the place you sat and unbuttons his pants, pulling out his cock from the confine of his briefs.
You step out of your pants and sit on his lap, trying to keep all the feelings daring to pool out inside while you feel like everything about you is already stripped bare in front of him.
“You sure you want this, yeah?” I asked.
At that moment, Bucky pulls you close by his waist. It’s almost easy (keyword being almost) to ignore the outline of his hard cock between your legs when he’s holding your face like this.
There’s barely any light illuminating the inside of the confessional, but there is enough for you to see him glowing. Glistening. Smiling like he’s watching something unfold.
He holds your face in his hand and pulls you in for a kiss.
I hadn’t kissed him yet.
Bucky kisses you with slow, soft tenderness at first.
It’s almost his way of saying he means everything—he means this, and he means what he said about being a part of the cleric who still allows themselves to have a life outside their work.
When his tongue opens up your mouth sinfully, that’s when you feel him twitch underneath you.
His arm around your waist pulls you even closer, and you get him. You’d want to merge with him right now if you could.
“Put me inside you,” he pulls back his face only a few inches to say those words, then dives in for another kiss.
Your mind is too dizzy with everything that is James to do anything but obey.
You reach beneath you to hold his cock in your hands and guide it to your entrance.
Perhaps you should care that none of you discussed the important things you should have before you let him inside you, raw and deep like this, but all you want is this:
Feeling him stretch you out.
When his tips fit and you can let go, both of you groan at the same time. He’s big.
He’s thick, and he’s leaking, and when the tip pushes in, gliding easy with how wet you are, you have to pull back from his kiss so you can breathe.
Bucky groans louder and hides his face in the crook of your shoulder.
“You’re big,” you whisper, sliding down further until he’s bottomed out. “Oh my…” can’t call out for Jesus, but you’re still shaking and finding a new reason to worship right there and then. You might be drunk on desire, or drunk on how high Bucky made you by eating you out, or how close you were to cumming before he made you get up. Maybe all of the above. “Father James—feels so good.”
The slap comes as a surprise, but the sting and your scream are both pleasurable.
“Don’t call me that again,” he growls. He bites your neck, and moves his hip for the first time.
“Why not,” you whine. It feels so good. You feel so full. “Feel so full, Bucky.”
“I know, dove.” He bucks his hip upwards, thrusting deep and slow. “You’re so fucking tight,” his voice is strained, and you pull his face back to yours, cupping his neck. With his eyes on yours, Bucky’s face softens. “Feels good?” He asks with another pointed thurst.
You nod, riding him in the same rhythm as his thrusts. “Hmhm.”
“You look beautiful on top of me,” he mutters, kissing your chin, you cheeks, and your eyelids, each kiss pointed with another deep thrust.
“We’re gonna do this again, right?”
Bucky hums, and thrusts harder. FUCK.
“Ah, there it is,” he mutters, as if talking to himself. “Was looking for that.” He thrusts again, confirming to see if he’s found your g spot. The way you clench and moan his name are enough of an answer. “We’ll do this many more times. I just—need—fuck, need to do this proper.” Bucky pins your hips in place and takes over the movements. “Shouldn’t be fucking you, dove. Not here, not like this.”
“I’mso fucking wet, Buck,” you cry. “You wouldn’t let me go home to get off thinkin'—oh—about you—fuck, right there;”
“I wouldn’t?”
“Bucky.” It’s louder than before. Both a moan and a prayer.
His thrusts become more erratic, and Bucky’s own moans and prayers start sounding much like yours.
So tight, dove. Fucking made for me. Stop clenching your pussy, Y/n, fuck. I’m gonna fill you up, d'you want that? Hm?
“Don’t pull out,” you whine.
“No?”
“No.” You shake your head. He should, your mind says. I don’t care, your body responds, hips going harder to meet his harsh thrusts.
“Want to feel me leaking out of you?”
Fucking hell. Where was this holy mouth hidden? “Yes!”
“Say it,” Bucky’s grunting, and his forehead is sparkling with sweat, and you feel the sweat dripping down your back.
“Wanna feel you dripping out of me, Buck.”
“Fucking—Y/n, I’m gonna cum. Are you close, dove?” He holds you by the neck, and brings your mouth to his. “Tell me how to make you cum. Tell me.”
“Hard. Deep.”
Bucky’s a good listener anywhere. He pins your hip in one place, buries himself as deep as he can go inside of you and mutters about how good it is to feel your cunt stretching out around his cock, then pistons his hips in place just like that, hitting that spot inside of you so mercilessly that you’re excused to scream as much as you do.
When you yell that you’re gonna cum, all he says is, “Please. Please, dove. Show me. Cum for me. Cum only for me, Y/n.”
With another scream that leaves your throat aching, you feel your walls convulsing and your legs shaking as an orgasm knocks you out.
Bucky cums by muffling his own screams in your neck, and you feel the warmth of him spilling inside of you.
If there were any ways for you to not surrender and devote to him, they’re all burned and gone.
This feels like the beginning of all things holy for you.
Meag looks up as Stephen walks into the cafe, walking past Steve’s table as the latter flares at him.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he says loudly, taking a seat across from Meag. He lowers his voice to a whisper.”You okay?”
“Fine. Sorry, I overreacted a bit..”
“No, you didn’t. Besides, who would turn down free coffee?” he replies with a chuckle.
Meag takes a sip of her coffee and starts to calm as Stephen tells her a funny story about his childhood. He’d come from Nebraska, she had learned. He’d lived on a farm, and was the oldest of three siblings. His parents were very proud of him. His younger brother, Victor, was still in high school.
“What about your other sibling?”
“Oh um… My sister, Donna. She passed away last year.”
Well, now Meag felt like a huge jerk.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t-“
“It’s okay. You didn’t know,” he assures her. “So, Bruce is your brother, right?”
“Yep, he’s my only sibling. I’m the baby of the family. Though Tony’s been his best friend since we were kids so he’s like another brother to me.”
“So, what do you want to do after you graduate?” Stephen asks.
“First, grad school. Then, I’m gonna go work at a fancy lab. I’m applying to internships for next summer at Stark Industries and Pym Tech.”
“Wow. I’m pre-med so I’m headed to med school. I want to be a neurosurgeon.”
Meag looks up to see Steve staring at them from a few tables away, and Stephen takes her hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving them something to stare at,” he replies with a smirk.
Everyone starts to gather in the main room of the frat house. The couches are pushed out of the way by some of the football players so everyone can sit in the floor. As everyone gathers in one big circle, Tony enters, wearing his glow stick getup, and holding a glass bottle.
“We just needed a beer bottle, Tony,” Bruce says.
“I’m bougie, bitch.”
Tony takes his place in the circle between Clint and Rhodey. He elects to go first and Meag sighs in relief. Her friend could be a bit too much sometimes. He turned the bottle round and round until it stopped, pointing towards his girlfriend, Pepper, who breathed a sigh of relief. They both crawled to meet in the middle of the circle and kissed quickly before returning to their seats.
Meag watches as a few people take their turns, and thankfully no one lands on her. Bucky drags Stephen into the circle, taking seats across the circle from Meag. Bucky takes the bottle and spins it, watching as it slows near Hope. But it doesn’t stop. It stops in front of Sharon.
Bucky exchanges a dissapointed look with Hope before giving Sharon a quick kiss.
A few more turns pass and Meag watches Stephen the whole time. He hadn’t taken a turn, and he also hadn’t been picked yet. Meag loos up as Hope spins the bottle, and it spins around the circle for a moment before landing across the circle. Meag’s eyes go wide. It had stopped just short of Bucky and landed on Peter.
Hope and Peter both blush profusely as they crawl to the middle of the circle and he gives her a quick peck on the lips.
Tony laughs and takes the bottle as they return to their seats. “My turn, again!”
He spins the bottle and it lands on Bruce. “Pucker up, Brucie bear!”
“Seriously, Stark?” Thor pipes up from beside his boyfriend.
“There’s enough of me to go around, Point Break, all you had to do was ask.” Tony smirks, leaving the 6’3” football player speechless.
“Why don’t I take a turn,” Meag says, trying to change the subject. She takes the bottle and spins it a little too fast. It goes around the circle three times before it slows to a stop. She looks up to where the bottle is pointing and locks eyes with Stephen.
Her jaw practically falls open. She couldn’t believe out of all the people.. Why did it have to be that arrogant jerk, Stephen Strange. Color rose ok her cheeks and she realized she had frozen in place.
“This is the part where you kiss him,” Tony tells her. Bruce gives him a pointed look.
Meag nods and goes to the center of the circle, where Stephen was already waiting with a smirk on his face.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I’m a very good kisser.”
She scoffs but is cut off when he presses his lips to hers. Stephen was kissing her. And she wouldn’t admit it, but she didn’t actually mind. She pulled away after a few seconds and hurried back to her seat as Tony whistled at them.
A few more turns passed, Sam kissed Sharon, Wanda kissed Vision, Carol kissed Val, though a surprising development occurred when Em took a turn and it landed on Nat. Meag smiled to herself, knowing those two would be great together.
Minnie had ducked out of the game earlier on, as it was clear Tony was trying to take as many turns as he could. A couple others had left as well.
Someone picked up the bottle and decided to spin it. It was Steve. The bottles turned a couple of times around the circle, and Meag let out a sigh of relief every time it passed her. But as it started to slow, the end started getting closer and closer to her until it stopped, pointing directly at her. She looked down at the bottle, and up at Steve, who didn’t look the least bit surprised or weirded out.
She stands up. “I’m done playing.” Meag turns on her heel, heading out to the backyard. Stephen watches her for a moment and stands up as well.
“I think we’re done,” Tony says, and the group dispersed.
Stephen heads through the kitchen and stops at the screen door. Meag was sitting on a bench on the back patio, looking up at the moon.
He walks up to the bench and clears his throat. “Can I sit here?”
“Go ahead.”
He takes a seat beside her and she wrinkles her nose in disgust at the whiff of something pungent.
“Are you wearing cologne?” she asks.
“A little,” he admits. “Are you okay?”
“Not really,” she admits. “I thought I was over him, but.. I saw him with Peggy earlier this week, and then what just happened…”
“It’s okay,” Stephen says. “Everyone heals in their own time.”
“He broke up with me in May, giving me the bs excuse that he didn’t have time for me. The week after, I see pictures of him online with Peggy. And now, with the game, I just don’t know…”
“Do you want me to drive you home?” Stephen asks.
“I’d like that,” she replies. Meag sends a text to the group that Stephen is taking her home, and he walks her out to an old gray Toyota.
“Nice car.”
“It’s not much, my dad got it for me when I started college,” Stephen says. “One day, I’m gonna have a Lamborghini.”
“I bet you will,” Meag replies. Stephen walks around the hood to get to the driver’s seat. Meag got in the passenger side and Stephen started up the car, backing out of the driveway.
“So, friends?” Meag asks.
“Friends,” Stephen agrees. A couple minutes pass and he stops in front of the sorority house.
“See you on monday,” he says.
Meag waves to him as she walks towards the door, her heart fluttering as Stephen drove away.
Meag, Hope, Em, and Minnie enter the fraternity house, and the party was already in full swing. People were dancing, drinking, and laughing, among other things.
Meag spotted Tony at the entrance to the kitchen, carrying a tray of jell-o shots so bright they looked like they’d give you superpowers. He wore a pair of large plastic sunglasses and had a glow stick necklace around his neck.
“You think Bucky is here yet?” Hope asks.
“He’ll show up if he’s not already,” Em assured her.
“I’m gonna go get a drink!” Minnie exclaims, wandering off to find the refreshments. The three of them scatter as well, hoping to enjoy themselves.
Hope wanders through the crowd and bumps into a guy, whose face goes red as he starts to apologize. She laughs. “It’s okay. Are you new around here? I haven’t seen you before.”
“I just started. I’m a freshman,” he says. “My name is Peter. Peter Parker.”
“Nice to meet you, Peter. I’m Hope, second year, and member of the sorority alpha lambda phi.”
“Oh, the sister sorority,” he says. “I’m a pledge for this frat. What are you majoring in?”
“English. You?”
“Chemistry with a minor in Photography.”
“Oh! Photography! Can you show me your photos?” Hope asks. Peter brings out his phone to show Hope some of his favorite photos.
-
Em grabbed a cookie from the food table as Natasha walked up.
“Hey, angel. Having fun?”
“Yes! It’s so nice to meet all these new friends,” Em says.
“If you say so.”
“It looks like they’re having fun,” Em says, gesturing to Tony, who had somehow acquired even more glow sticks and was waving them around wildly.
“Is he high?” Nat asks, clearly in disbelief that the one of the top students of the university was dancing like he was in a nightclub on some sort of drugs.
“I think he’s just like that,” Em replies. They both break into a laugh at the ridiculousness that is Tony.
-
Minnie was wading through the crowd, a red plastic cup in hand. When she was a pledge for the sorority, she didn’t have nearly as much fun at the initiation party. She was too nervous. Now, she had great friends, and she was going to have a good time.
She took a sip from her cup and as she did, her eyes locked with a pair of green ones across the room. He was tall, with slicked back black hair. He wore a dark green button down with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of black jeans, and matching boots. He smirked at her, and Minnie realized she was staring. She was staring and choking on her drink. She stops after a moment and turns red from embarrassment. This hot guy just saw her almost choke to death.
“Very charming,” he says, clearly amused.
“I haven’t seen you around the fraternity before.”
“I’m not a member,” he says. “I’m assuming you’re a sorority girl?”
“Alpha lambda phi,” she replies. “I’m Minnie.”
“Loki Odinson.”
-
Meag leaned on the threshold of the kitchen door, taking a sip from her soda as Stephen walked up.
“I didn’t think you’d show up.”
“And miss the chance to see you in your natural habitat?” he jokes.
“Have a drink. You look like you’re being held hostage,” Meag says.
“He is,” Bucky says, walking up and putting an arm around his roommate’s shoulder. “Meagie, Stephen here is my new roommate.”
“What an interesting combination,” Meag says.
“Have you seen Hope?” Bucky asks. “I’ve been looking all over for her.”
“Last time I saw her, she was talking to a pledge,” Meag says. “By the speakers.”
“Thanks.” Bucky wanders off to find Hope and Stephen stands there awkwardly.
“So…” he trails off.
Meag’s eyes dart in another direction and then back towards him. “Quick, pretend I said something funny!”
Stephen laughs just as Steve walks up.
“Hey,” Steve says, looking at Meag.
“Hi.”
“I didn’t think you’d be here,” he says.
“Well, I am.”
Steve looks between her and Stephen. “Is this your-“
“Stephen Strange. Meag’s friend in the chemistry department,” Stephen interjects.
“Steve Rogers. Part of the frat. You should really think about joining, Stefan.”
“Stephen. I can spell it out if you need me to,” he says sarcastically. Meag laughs quietly as Steve’s expression turns angry. He walks away and Meag bursts into laughter.
“Hey guys!” Tony calls to the crowd through a megaphone he has mysterious acquired. “We’re going to play spin the bottle!”
Meag entered the room and started towards the back corner, where Em and Hope were already waiting. She passes by Stephen’s chair and he looks up.
“I didn’t know you were in this class too.”
She stops in her tracks. “What are you doing here?”
“Some of my credits didn’t transfer,” he answers with a shrug.
Meag spares a look back to Em and Hope. The seat they’d saved for her was just filled by another student. She scanned the room for another seat. Fuck.
She flops down in the seat beside Stephen just as the professor walks in.
“Hello, everyone. Make sure to remember your seats, these will be your partners for the semester, and for your group projects.”
Meag clenched her fist in anger. There was no way she would work on a project with this asshole. No freaking way.
“I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” he says, his lip curling up in a smirk. “Partner. Don’t worry, you won’t have to do a thing, you have the best pre-med student from Columbia on your team.”
She seethed with anger. Anger at him for being such an arrogant prick. And anger at herself for the butterflies that had seemed to lodge themselves in her stomach.
Meag finally reached the cafe, and in record time too. Or so she thought.
“Genius girl! Your coffee’s getting cold!” Minnie called Meag from their usual table.
Meag took her seat and the four of them began to sip their drinks. They looked up as a couple walked in, heading past them and towards the back of the cafe. It was Steve and Peggy.
“I can’t believe he’s already dating Peggy,” Hope says. “You guys just broke up in may!”
“Men ain’t shit,” Minnie says, leaning back in her chair.
“I’ll drink to that,” Hope says, lifting her cup in a toast.
“All jokes aside, are you okay?” Em asks. “We can take our coffee and go out on the quad.”
“I’d actually like that,” Meag says, stealing a glance at Steve and Peggy being cute in the back of the cafe.
The four of them headed outside, walking towards a big shady tree on the south edge of the quad.
A guy bumps into Meag, making her spill her coffee all over him and his blue shirt.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry-“ Meag trails off as she looks up at him. He had tousled dark hair and eyes as blue as the sky. And he looked very annoyed.
“I’m just looking for the chemistry building,” he says, looking between the girls as Meag remained speechless, her mouth falling open in surprise.
“It’s right there,” Em says, pointing to the building behind them.
“Thanks.” He stomps off towards the building and Meag turns to look at her friends.
“You okay, Meaggie?” Minnie asks with a chuckle.
“Who is that?” Meag asks.
“I’m not sure,” Em says.
“He was wearing a Columbia shirt,” Minnie says. “I bet he transferred from there.”
“Oh, I didn’t notice the Columbia shirt,” Meag says. “Except it brought out the blue in his eyes..”
“Hey, maybe this is just what you need to get over you know who,” Hope says.
The 8:00 AM bell on the clock tower chimes and the girls all gathered their things. Unfortunately, they all had 8:00 AM classes this year.
“I’ll see you guys for lunch,” Meag says. “And see you in psych, Hope and Em!”
Meag backs towards the chemistry building and loses her balance. The boy from earlier catches her.
“You really need to watch where you’re going,” he says before walking away.
“Thank…you..”
Meag reached the classroom as other students filed in. Professor Selvig was handing out copies of the syllabus. The only open seat was next to Columbia boy. She hurries to the back of the classroom and slips into the seat.
“Sorry about your shirt,” she says to him. “Did you transfer from Columbia?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Meag Banner,” she says.
“Stephen Strange.”
“Nice to meet you, Stephen. Are you biochem too? what year are you?”
“I’m a third year biochem major. Pre-med. This senseless chatter going to end any time soon?”
“I just…I’m the vice president of the Student Chemistry Club, so I was going to invite you to our meeting this friday..”
“No, thank you.” He looks down at his syllabus as Professor Selvig starts the lecture. Meag huffs, crossing her arms. She didn’t need this jerk in her club anyway. This was going to be a long semester.
A new year at SHIELD university begins with old flames and new faces.
stephen strange x oc (meag), loki x oc (minnie), natasha x oc (em), peter parker x oc (hope) x bucky barnes, past!steve rogers x oc (meag), steve rogers x peggy carter, wanda maximoff x vision, tony stark x pepper potts, thor odinson x bruce banner, carol danvers x brunhilde valkyrie
A new year at SHIELD university begins with old flames and new faces.
stephen strange x oc (meag), loki x oc (minnie), natasha x oc (em), peter parker x oc (hope) x bucky barnes, past!steve rogers x oc (meag), steve rogers x peggy carter, wanda maximoff x vision, tony stark x pepper potts, thor odinson x bruce banner, carol danvers x brunhilde valkyrie
A new year at SHIELD university begins with old flames and new faces.
stephen strange x oc (meag), loki x oc (minnie), natasha x oc (em), peter parker x oc (hope) x bucky barnes, past!steve rogers x oc (meag), steve rogers x peggy carter, wanda maximoff x vision, tony stark x pepper potts, thor odinson x bruce banner, carol danvers x brunhilde valkyrie
