All is fair in love and war - James B. Barnes

Author: theweirdymcweirderson

Characters: Reader, James B. Barnes

Relationships: Bucky Barnes×Reader

Word count: 2462

Summary: Things heat up during a training session between Bucky and Reader.

Warnings: Pet names, explicit words, teasing, cursing, fighting/training, dirty talk (kinda), innuendos, that stupid metal arm (ugh), kissing, implied smut, seduction 101. That’s it I think, let me know if you find more.

Notes: You may wonder what this is, the answer to that is I don’t know :) But if you feel like leaving me some feedback, I’d really appreciate it.

Ps: English is not my first language, I tried my best, but there might still be some mistakes/weird sentences. Sorry :)

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A strategy, that’s all it is. Nothing more than a strategy. A strategy that you’ve spent the last couple of weeks working on because, honestly, how long can anyone take this? Every other day, you find yourself lying on your back, sweaty and out of breath, panting up at the same man pinning your body to the sticky mattresses time and time again. That is, if you’re not pinned to something else.

It probably wouldn’t even be so bad if it wasn’t for the smug, self-satisfied grin always painted on his stupidly handsome face.

So yes, you came up with a plan. Granted it’s a stupid, ridiculous, totally not thought-through plan, but at least you are prepared. That’s what everyone keeps telling you anyway. You should always have a plan.

That’s why, this time, as he effortlessly swipes your feet from under you, sending your body to meet the oh so trusty mattress, you don’t try to fight your way back to your feet before his hips are pinning yours down; one elbow landing a breath away from your face as his metal hand wraps around your throat, asserting the dominance you both know he currently has over you.

Yeah, he’s a show-off and you fucking hate him for it.

The smile that spreads on his lips is slow, teasing and 100% meant to get on every single one of your nerves. That’s another thing he excels at. The fucker.

Your chest rises to meet his sweat-dampened one, cause Mr. ‘I’ll always pin you to whatever surface is closest’ prefers working out shirtless – not that you mind – but still: a show off.

“Gotcha.” A quick eyebrow raise, smile widening as his tongue pokes out to make an appearance.

He’s a show-off and a tease. So, well, you kiss him.

Now your plan didn’t go any further than this exact moment and you’re not sure what you were expecting him to do other than be surprised, but it sure as hell wasn’t to kiss you back.

He’s a good kisser, and fucking hell, you should’ve expected that. You should’ve at least guessedfrom the way he runs his tongue over those lips, the way his teeth sink in them, or even just the easy way they curl around his smile. He smiles like a man who knows how to use those lips.

So, what if you get distracted for a minute or several even? What if your arms encircle his waist and you pull him closer? No one in their right mind would judge you cause he definitely knows how to use those lips.

The position you’re in, or rather his hips pinning your own, limit your movements which is more than a little frustrating – not that you plan on ever admitting that out loud – all you can really do, is wiggle underneath him, until he catches your drift and smoothly manoeuvres to rest between your parted thighs. Bless Sam and his ‘flexibility is fundamental’ policy.

You’d originally thought this would be the long-awaited moment to claim your victory, instead, you find yourself hooking your calf around his thigh, which rewards you with the sweetest, most panty-melting groan you’ve had the pleasure of hearing, and the prominent evidence of how much he’s enjoying the kiss. Now, that, is one hell of a victory.

His hand moves from your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he cups your head to deepen the kiss and when his tongue asks for entrance, you don’t deem it nice to refuse – seriously that would be rude – so you grant it.

He kisses you until you run out of breath and you find yourself wishing you’d taken on Natasha’s advice to increase your damn lung capacity. You don’t have much time to contemplate that thought, though, because then he’s staring down at you so intently with those pretty, darkened blue eyes and, damn, is it even legal for him to lick his lips like that?

“That wa-” Taking your chance while his guard is down, you don’t give him time to finish.

Hands on his shoulders, you bridge your hips and push him off and to the side, the way Steve showed you during your last sparring session, quickly switching positions and pinning him to the mattress. Your turn for a smug smile.

“-uff. Dirty trick, huh?”

You’d probably be more bothered by the fact that he’s grinning again, if it weren’t for his lips still glistening with the evidence of your kiss. His hands resting comfortably on your waist are a plus.

“Gotcha!”

“Doesn’t count, doll. You cheated.”

You shrug one shoulder, leaning down and mimicking his previous actions; elbow by his head and hand around his neck. You’re starting to understand why he enjoys pinning you down so much. He’s still a show-off, though.

“Gotcha.” You whisper the word, letting your breath tickle the sensitive skin just under his ear and thoroughly enjoying the way his fingers flex on your waist as his breathing stutters ever so slightly. It’s payback and, fine, maybe he’s not the only tease.

“If that’s what it takes, I’m more than willing to let you pin me more often, dollface.” The way the pet name rolls off his tongue this time – smooth, sensual, inviting – has you fighting off the urge to buck your hips. You categorically refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“That’s cute, but we both know your ego could never sustain such a blow, sarge.”

With his head thrown back, you feel the laugh that erupts from him travel all through his body, and fuck, the plan was definitely not thought-through.

“Trust me, my ego is getting one hell of a boost with you perched up there, doll.”

He makes a show of letting his eyes suggestively travel to the place you’re sitting on, making you hyper aware of the delectable way his bulge looks in his damned, black shorts. Yep, okay, time to get up before you make a fool out of yourself.

“Don’t get cheeky with me, sergeant.” A slap to his chest accompanies your words and the hard pecs you’re met with, have your core clenching involuntarily. He’s just so solid; it’s unfair. Likereallyunfair.

Before you have the time to redirect your thoughts to something more decent – he is your teammate after all, for crying out loud – he brings his hands under your thighs, lifting your body as he sits up and slams you down between his parted thighs, effectively knocking the breath out of you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

You grunt back something intelligible, sticking up your middle finger for him to chuckle at as he gets back to his feet. God, you really do hate his skilled and overly attractive ass. When you crack open an eye, you find his hand dangling in front of your face: a peace offering. Grasping the metal appendage, you let him pull you back upright and head for your water bottle; Barnes still has 27 minutes and 19 seconds to thoroughly torture your ass before you can call it a day. Yay.

Your back is met with the wall this time, because he likes to spice things up. You huff out indignantly, struggling against the vice grip holding both of your wrists plastered to the wall padding. Why are his hands so big, anyway? Honestly, that’s just unnecessary. You feel like screaming your frustration cause he’s not even using the metal hand and, yet, you can’t make him budge.

“You’re getting better at this.”

Praying for your body not to betray the effect his praise has on you, you flash him your most saccharine, sarcastic smile. “What can I say, Steve’s a great teacher. Gon let me go now, or what?”

Your attitude will be your undoing one day, that’s for sure.

Instead of loosening his grip, he slots his thigh between your legs, spreading them in the process as your hips are pinned to the wall as well. His breathing is ragged and you wish, but you know it’s not due to exertion; you still have a long road ahead of you before your fighting skills manage to exert a super soldier. Still, you’ll take what you can and, now, it’s your ego’s turn to get one hell of a boost.

You don’t dare break eye contact, staring right back at him defiantly. No way you’re backing down. When you feel the almost-there touch of his metal fingers caressing their way up your thigh, you consider caving for a fraction of a second, but then that grin just has to make another damn appearance. Well, fuck him.

“I’m dying to see how you get out of this one, dollface.” His gaze locks on your parted lips. You know what he expects, what he wants, and you also know that he’ll never cave either.

Your voice sounds just as strained and husky as his when you finally manage to get enough moisture back in your dry mouth to answer.

“What if I don’t want to, sergeant?” It’s mocking, provoking and instead of taking it back, your shoulders relax against the wall, pushing your chest forward as your back arches invitingly.

Yeah, your attitude will certainly be your undoing.

His dark eyes find yours again, at the same time his metal hand lands just under your ribcage and his other hand tugs your wrists upwards. You groan at the change in posture; every muscle in your body tensing as you find yourself barely able to reach the ground with your tiptoes.

“Don’t fuck with me, doll.” Huh, you wish.

James fucking Barnes is holding your body suspended in the air. If you were to relax, you’d end up straddling his thigh and the fucker makes it abundantly clear that he knows that by purposefully contracting his quad. Your ego stops you from accepting the tempting invitation.

If your brain wasn’t currently swallowed by a cloud of lust, you would actually be more than a little mortified by the fact that he has you melting against his rock-hard body as muscle fatigue starts to set in.

You don’t know how, and you certainly don’t know why, since your body is rather enjoying the feeling of his, but you manage to use his hold on your wrist as leverage and your knee comes up to awkwardly connect with his side. The movement takes him by surprise and he loses his footing trying to keep you from falling.

You end up back on the mattress in a tangled mess of limbs. The timer going off makes you jump lightly, but neither of you moves to pull away. Somewhere in the background, under the obscene fantasies now running wild in your head, you remember that you’re still in the gym. Anyone could walk in at any fucking second.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.” You throw back his words at him and if the answering growl you receive is anything to go by, he doesn’t find you as funny as you find yourself. Oh well. You shrug, sitting back upright on his lap as he lets his head hit the mattress; eyes closing. The privileged seat is kind of starting to grow on you.

“Bucky?”

“Hmmm?” It’s more of an annoyed grunt than a hum, his nostrils flaring as he opens his eyes to find you glancing behind him to check if anyone is there to witness what is going on.

“How’s the ego doing?”

“You really wanna know the answer to that?”

He shifts his hips slightly, catching you off guard and you end up positioned right on top of the delectable bulge that was previously teasing you.

Oh yeah, something is growing on you alright.

Schooling your facial expression as best as you can because – sweet baby pandas, neither his shorts nor yours do anything to conceal what and how much he is packing – you force your eyes to stay on his daring ones. This is the moment of truth: every single, tiny, teasing taunt you’ve exchanged today culminates in this. You, him, your core pressed to his bulge and his lust-darkened eyes boring into yours; you’re going to combust.

“Well then, nothing to worry about I guess. So- ehm, time’s up, you plan on letting me go or what?”

“Maybe…” His hold on your thighs tightens the slightest bit, betraying his words and keeping you rooted in place. “If you ask nicely.”

You huff out a laugh, eyebrows rising incredulously, because he has to know that you’d rather spend the night sitting on his lap than beg. There is no way in hell, heaven and everything in between. At least, you like to think so.

“Sure, in your dreams, pal.”

He sits up then, and all you can think about is how strong his core muscles must be. Does this man ever tire? Apparently not.

“Oh, I’m counting on it, doll. Always sound so damn pretty, too.” That takes you by surprise. You know what his words imply and, suddenly, your brain is flooded back with all those indecent thoughts about your teammate.

Your forefinger finds his chest and you push back, needing to put some space between you and his scorching, hot body in order for your brain to resume functioning properly.

“Well, guess what? If you let me go now, you’ll have just enough time to squeeze in a nap before dinner time.” His back connects loudly with the mat as he unceremoniously falls back down; hands pillowing his head as he stares up at you with a boyish grin.

You lift yourself off of him as gracefully as you can, and just before you stand back to your feet, you lean closer one last time; your finger back on his chest and slowly making its way south. Yep, those abs are as strong as you always guessed them to be. “You should know, though, that I sound much, much better in real life.”

Flashing him a sultry smile, you stand up and revel in the groan that echoes your confession.

“Who’s being cheeky now, huh, doll?”

You don’t turn to look at him, eyeing him in the mirror and enjoying the way his eyes are glued to your retreating figure as he adjusts himself with his metal hand. For some reason, which you do not care to dwell on, that simple action gets you hot all over.

“Sweet dreams.” You toss the words over your back, calming down the raging zoo in your ribcage before you add. “That is, unless you rather get a taste of the real thing, sarge.”

The invitation is followed by a second of silence; then a curse, a thud and some more colourful words reach your ears, before the mat squeaks under Bucky’s footsteps as he rushes to catch up.

Find more stuff here<3

plot: bucky is the stableboy and you are the princess and the both of you are in love. bucky needs to leave the kingdom before he is hanged for a crime, but you don’t let him leave without you.

A/N:i haven’t posted on here in a long while. i hadn’t even logged onto tumblr until a month or so ago. it was a compilation of life happening and also i don’t know if i still feel passionate about harry as i used to. i’ve always been writing stories that i wish i could live through, and the past year, i have gone through some of the motions of what i always wanted. it’s strange to come back a whole different person. but i’ve never stopped loving writing, and everyone still following this little blog, and i hope this is the beginning of something more. anyways, this isn’t even about harry. i watched the falcon and the winter soldier  and fell in love with sebastian stan. what can i say. i thought it would be better to post it randomly than have it sit in my google docs. hope u enjoy xx

tw: mentions of attempted assault

The nights in the castle are always quiet, and this never used to bother Bucky—hell, he was even thankful for the quiet after everything he’s been through—but tonight, the silence was eating him alive.

“Doll,” he tries, but the sound gets lost halfway across the room. It’s dark, but he can still see you shaking as you crouch down over Rafe’s body, his blood pooling all the way to the soles of his boots. “Doll—”

“He’s dead.”

It’s the first thing you say that night that isn’t a scream. And he almost wishes it was, because the voice that comes out of your mouth as you whirl around to face him doesn’t sound like you at all. He watches you look down at your hands, covered in a fresh coat of blood, and panic courses through his veins.

And suddenly, he’s on his knees in front of you. “It’ll be okay. Look at me. It’ll be okay.”

You don’t believe him. You’re practically hiccuping with fear as you glance back at the body, and then at him, and back again. Bucky lifts a hand to touch you, but stops when he realizes that his hands are coated in blood too. 

But that wasn’t even the worst of it. The knuckles on his right hand were torn open, and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t feel the hurt at all. He makes sure to hide the frown on his face when you look back at him.

“W-What are we going to do?” you ask. You’re dizzy, and you’re certain that if it wasn’t for the dead body on your bedroom floor that you would’ve passed out by now. You clear your throat and try again. “Bucky, what are we—”

He interrupts you. “We’re not going to do anything.” You furrow your eyebrows as you watch him rise and walk over to the bathroom. You hear the faucet run. You think about the blood flowing down the drain, and it makes you sick.

“Bucky?” You go after him and stand at the threshold between the two rooms. He’s scrubbing his hands furiously. “Bucky, what do you mean we’re not going to do anything? He’s fucking dead. We have to—”

And that word is like an arrow in the middle of his back because he shuts off the sink and spins around to face you in an instant. His chest is heaving as he waves a wet finger at you and says, “There is no we in this, Y/N. I killed him. I cracked his skull open. It is my fingerprints around his neck, okay? You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be perfect.”

“What?” He barrels past you. And that is when you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. You can’t help but let out a gasp.

Your hair is falling loosely around your face, braids be damned. Bruises line all the way around your neck from where he, Rafe, had tried to make you his. Fingernail marks on your collar bones. You don’t want to lift your dress to find out what more of himself he left on you. 

Or what more he could’ve taken if Bucky hadn’t heard your cries and came crashing into your bedroom at the right moment.

You hear the sound of your closet door shutting.

“Bucky, what are you doing?”

He has his bag on your bed and around it, everything of his that you have come to cherish in the past few months. “Darling?”

Bucky pauses at that name. He can’t even lift his head to look at you as he says these next words. “Y/N, I will hang for this. They won’t understand. I will be dead by morning.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper.

“But it’s true!” He tears his hands through his hair and you are by his side in a second. You hold him as he falls to the ground in tears, hands over his face to hide his fear from you. “Doll, I killed a man. I killed him! I could’ve stopped when I got him off you but… but I didn’t. When I heard your scream and came in a-and saw h-him, I-I—”

You squeeze him tighter as he sobs. You don’t care that you’re both covered in blood. You need him to know you love him. 

“Bucky, you saved me,” you cry. “You saved me. If you hadn’t come in, I… “ Tears spill down your cheeks, but you brush them away and take a deep breath in. “Rafe would’ve been dead soon, anyway. Once my family finds out what he tried to do… it’s only a matter of time before his head is on the chopping block. You did nothing wrong. You saved me, you hear that?”

Bucky turns to face you and you half-expect him to kiss you and tell you that you’re right, and he’s going to be okay, and that this night will just disappear into a bad dream. But his expression hardens and he’s looking down at his hands.

“Even if that were true—”

“It is.”

He sighs. “Nobody would believe me.”

“Buck, what do you mean? They’ll believe me when I tell them what Rafe tried to do.”

“Y/N.” You wince slightly at the sound of your name coming out of his mouth. He rarely called you Y/N. Always Doll. “How do I explain why I was in your corridor at such a late hour, huh? Hell, your maids aren’t even allowed up here in the middle of the night. How would I explain to them that I was near you because I can’t possibly be away from you. That I’ve laid in your bed more times than I can count? They’ll hang me for that regardless. I’m as good as dead.”

“So what now?” You feel your frustration growing. “You’re just going to hand them your head, then? Tie the noose around your own damned neck, huh? Is that what we’re doing now?”

Bucky clenches his fists. “There’s no we, doll. You’re safe from all of this. You’re the fucking princess—”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap. He whips his head up at the change in tone. “I told you to never call me that.”

He laughs and it’s daggers to your heart. “Well, Y/N, you can’t escape who you are. You are the princess and I’m just a stableboy and I should’ve never come close to you. It was my mistake.”

“It was a mistake,” you repeat, the words poison on your lips. “I was a mistake. You regret falling in love with me—”

“Don’t.”

“No, that’s what you said, wasn’t it?” You feel as if you are about to throw up. “You made a mistake, and you wished this all never happened, right?”

“Doll—”

“Don’t touch me.” You shrink away from his grasp and he looks up at you wounded. You think you can taste blood on your tongue. The room is spinning. “You don’t get to touch me after wishing you never did.”

Bucky presses his eyes shut. “I didn’t mean that. I love you. You know I love you so goddamn much I can’t live without you. Waking up next to you every morning is the only reason why I’m not yet dead. But…”

You have your arms crossed over your chest. “But what?” 

“But this was never going to end happily, was it?” His blue eyes are black in the darkness of the room. “This was always going to end with you married off to the prince of god only knows what kingdom, and me left behind. Or you married off, and me hanging in the square.”

“That’s not true,” you choke back a sob. “You and I were going to get married. Are. You and I are going to get married.”

Bucky pleads softly, “Don’t lie to me now, doll, I can’t take it.”

“I’m not lying to you.” You lay a hand on his cheek. “I would never lie to you. Please believe me.”

He holds your gaze for a long moment, and you think you have him convinced. But then at the last second he pulls away and he’s on his feet and throwing his things in the bag again. “If I want to live to see you again, I have to leave now. If I take Shadow, I can get to the next town sometime around dawn.”

You look up at him. Your voice is so soft you can barely hear it. “And then?”

But he does. “And then I’ll bribe my way onto a ship. I can disappear once I’m off this land. Even your father wouldn’t waste money on sending troops across the ocean.”

“And what about me?”

Bucky’s hands come to a still. He doesn’t look down at you. “I’ll write. Under a different name, of course, but I’ll write once I settle down somewhere, I promise.”

You shake your head. “Not good enough.”

“And I’ll come back one day,” he presses, shoving his t-shirt, the one you’ve been wearing for the past few weeks, into the bag. It will smell of you, he knows. “When the dust has settled. When everybody forgets my face, I’ll relocate to a town nearby and….” he turns his head to you, “and I’ll pray every single day to see you again.”

He sinks down to the floor and presses his forehead against yours. “I love you so fucking much. You will always have my heart.”

“Please don’t leave me,” you beg, gripping onto his shirt. You feel a tear drip down to your chin, but you’re not sure if it’s from him or you. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Doll,” he cries. “You know it’s killing me right now to think of a world without you. But this is the only way I can ever see you again. I can’t stay.”

“There has to be another way.” You’re holding onto him desperately. It’s taking everything in Bucky not to fall into you because he knows if he does, there will be no chance of him ever letting go. “We belong to each other. This can’t be how it ends.”

His lips are trembling as he pulls away from you. “I will see you again one day. I promise.”

And then it just falls out of your mouth. “Let me come with you.”

Bucky’s heart nearly stops. “What?”

“Let me come with you,” you say, more determinedly. “We can start again somewhere. Build a new life.”

“Doll, I don’t know about that.”

“Why?” The room around you is no longer spinning because your head is clear. You were going to leave with Bucky. “We’ll just do everything that you just said. Together.” You push yourself off the ground. “Give me a few minutes to gather some things and we’ll leave, okay?”

“No, Y/N,” Bucky follows you to the wardrobe. “Sweetheart, no. You can’t come with me. You can’t leave.”

You are barely processing what he’s saying because your mind has been made up. “Bucky, go get my necklace by the sink for me. It’s my mother’s, I can’t leave it behind.”

“No.”

“Fine, I’ll go get it later.”

“Y/N, can you stop for a second? Can you look at me?”

You turn to face him. He inhales shakily. “I can’t let you do this for me. I can’t let you leave your home and everything you have ever known for me, you hear? It’s not worth it.”

“Bucky, you are worth it,” you press. “I’d rather sleep on the streets with you than in this castle alone.”

“But I don’t want you to sleep on the streets!” He nearly throws his hands up in frustration. “I don’t want you to know what it’s like to… to live anywhere outside of here!”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You don’t think I can make it outside? Because I can. I don’t need anything or anyone except you.”

He raises his eyebrows. “What about your mother? Your father? Your brothers? What about them?”

You hesitate for a second. “I can come back to see them in a few years, like you said. I can send letters—”

“You can’t send letters. What don’t you understand? They’re not just going to let you run away! They might not send soldiers on a ship for me but for you? The kingdom’s sole heiress? The princess—?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“The king will sail to every single land himself to find you.”

Silence.

And then: “Do you love me?”

Bucky blinks. He doesn’t even know how to respond to that.

“Do you love me?” You repeat flatly.

“I-I… of course I love you.”

“Then I’m coming with you. End of discussion.”

“Doll—”

“End of discussion. Now go get my necklace, will you? The sun’s going to come up soon. We’ll need to leave immediately.”

Bucky’s frozen in place. He watches as you slip out of your nightgown and tug on a pair of trousers. You don’t even hesitate to push past your ballroom gowns and reach into the back of your closet instead to dig out more plain tees.

He doesn’t even let his heart lurch at the possibility of spending forever with you, because of one little poisonous thought in his brain: “I don’t want you to fall out of love with me.”

You pause, mid-step into your boots. “Buck, there’s never going to happen.”

“If I take you away from here, one day it will. One day, you’ll wake up and realize that I can’t give you anything more than my love. I can’t give you a castle with servants and a feast for every dinner and diamonds for your wrists and one day, maybe not today, but one day you’ll hate me for it. I can’t live without you, but I would rather be away from you than watch you fall out of love with me.”

You smile sadly, “If you leave me tonight, I will never forgive you. But if you let me come with you, I promise I will never stop loving you. I just need to be with you for the rest of my life. Please let me.”

And Bucky can’t stop himself anymore.

He closes the space between the two of you and presses his lips onto yours. You taste of salt and tears and copper and blood and love and love and love. “I love you,” he says between kisses. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“Promise me you’ll never leave me.”

“I swear on my life.”