➳a/n:this chapter just makes me squeal. WE ALSO FIND OUT THE TWINS NAMES. i gave them so much thought, and i felt like the two i chose were utterly sweet . enjoy! :) also domestic Bucky is my favorite Bucky.
➳summary: When you experience the most intense night of the summer alongside Bucky, who you nickname Steel Blue, you weren’t expecting to fall pregnant. When a positive pregnancy test meets your eyes a few days before school starts, you know it belongs to the man who you’d never see again. Until you walk into your Romanian Linguistics class and he’s your professor.
➳pairing: Professor!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
➳warnings:unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, slight age-gap, smut throughout book, angst
➳ dedicated to my beautiful best friend pitifulbaby
As the month continued to pass by, you were now settled into October.Midterms were up, you were slowly preparing for the babies’ arrival in February, Millie was helping you with nursery themes, and somehow Bucky and Nikki became best friends despite being polar opposites of each other.
➳a/n:this chapter just makes me squeal. WE ALSO FIND OUT THE TWINS NAMES. i gave them so much thought, and i felt like the two i chose were utterly sweet . enjoy! :) also domestic Bucky is my favorite Bucky.
➳summary: When you experience the most intense night of the summer alongside Bucky, who you nickname Steel Blue, you weren’t expecting to fall pregnant. When a positive pregnancy test meets your eyes a few days before school starts, you know it belongs to the man who you’d never see again. Until you walk into your Romanian Linguistics class and he’s your professor.
➳pairing: Professor!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
➳warnings:unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, slight age-gap, smut throughout book, angst
➳ dedicated to my beautiful best friend pitifulbaby
As the month continued to pass by, you were now settled into October.Midterms were up, you were slowly preparing for the babies’ arrival in February, Millie was helping you with nursery themes, and somehow Bucky and Nikki became best friends despite being polar opposites of each other.
➳a/n:this chapter just makes me squeal. WE ALSO FIND OUT THE TWINS NAMES. i gave them so much thought, and i felt like the two i chose were utterly sweet . enjoy! :) also domestic Bucky is my favorite Bucky.
➳summary: When you experience the most intense night of the summer alongside Bucky, who you nickname Steel Blue, you weren’t expecting to fall pregnant. When a positive pregnancy test meets your eyes a few days before school starts, you know it belongs to the man who you’d never see again. Until you walk into your Romanian Linguistics class and he’s your professor.
➳pairing: Professor!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
➳warnings:unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, slight age-gap, smut throughout book, angst
➳ dedicated to my beautiful best friend pitifulbaby
As the month continued to pass by, you were now settled into October.Midterms were up, you were slowly preparing for the babies’ arrival in February, Millie was helping you with nursery themes, and somehow Bucky and Nikki became best friends despite being polar opposites of each other.
Opting for baggier clothes to at least try and seclude your growing bump, it was getting harder. Students were beginning to stop and stare, Bucky consciously paying attention to the room’s shifting. He would give you gentle gazes and darling smiles to help push you through to the end of each lecture before he’d finally wrap his arms around you when the classroom had emptied.
“Alright, remember! Our midterm is on Wednesday.As long as you answer the questions in the study guide and practice, all of you will be fine. Don’t hesitate to ask any questions, either. I’m here to watch you succeed.”Bucky informed the students as everyone began to pack up their belongings.
Once the room had cleared except for Millie who was checking her phone, she turned her eyes over to you. “Nikki’s waiting for me out front. Have fun house-searching!” She exclaimed. She lowered her head to press a quick kiss to your belly before hitting Bucky on the arm and leaving.
He greeted you with a wide grin, those gorgeous steel-blue eyes casting into yours. “Come here, mama,” He said, walking forward to wrap his hands through yours. You erupted into a quiet giggle as Bucky pulled you close, your bump pressing to his well-defined abdomen. He sighed, reaching his hands forward to wrap around your stomach.
“Not going to lie, I miss being able to hold you close,” He chuckled, making you smile.
“Well,your children are wreaking havoc in the womb right now. I swear one of them is bouncing on my bladder,” You sighed heavily. “And hey! We can still touch… I’m not that big yet.” You growled, earning Bucky to smile, and leaned forward to peck your lips.
“I know, I know… I’m just teasing. Are you ready to go look at these houses? The realtor just texted me.” He questioned.
Your heart flooded with warmth. “I can’t believe this… We’re actually getting our own house together.” You breathed out, gently biting at the skin on your lip. Bucky hugged you as close as he could.
“It’s surreal, I know… But I can’t wait to start this journey with you.” He whispered, kissing your ear. “And just think… Whatever house we do decide on? I’ll get to have sex with you in every single room, just to break it in and really make it ours.”
“Bucky!” You exclaimed, swatting his shoulder. “It only took one night in a hotel to make this happen… Be careful.” You reminded him, eyes narrowed.
Bucky beamed with another laugh before grabbing his keys off the desk and leading you out of the classroom. As you two walked down the halls and hopped on the elevator to take you to the bottom floor, you leaned your head on his shoulder. Life had become so much different since Sharon disappeared.
The last you saw of her, she was being handcuffed and thrown into the back of a cop car while Millie was essentially let off the hook for beating Sharon to a bloody pulp with a baseball bat. Your and Bucky’s relationship only seemed to strengthen and it gave you both ample time to focus on one another plus the idea that you would be parents sooner rather than later.
The car ride to the first house was filled with you and Bucky exchanging words back and forth about what you were both looking for in homes; family homes. When you arrived to the first listing, your eyes widened. It was beautiful.A two story brick home with a fenced in backyard. Flowers dotted the outside area with a well-manicured lawn, bringing you to gasp.
“Wow, this is stunning,”Bucky admitted with a smile, wrapping his hand through yours. The two of you exited the car and were greeted by the realtor, a friendly woman by the name of Denise. She grinned at the two of you, a folder in hand with some of the property’s biggest hits.
“Bucky, Y/N! What a pleasure to see you both,” Denise grinned as she shook both your hands before her eyes settled on your swollen belly. “Wow, I think you’ve grown since I saw you last week!” She exclaimed, bringing you to smile sheepishly.
As she led you inside, your eyes were captivated by the large front entryway. It was decked with cherrywood floors and the space was huge.
“This home is four bedrooms and two baths… It also has a fenced-in swimming pool in the back. Bucky, since you’re a professor, there is also an in-home office for you.” She explained. You could hardly listen, your excitement was bubbling when you walked into the spacious kitchen that looked out into the living room. The bar was set up with a huge chandelier hanging overhead, the countertops were a fine marble. The color scheme was simplistic, but with pops of color being introduced on the cabinet doors. There was a huge pantry with a sliding barndoor that you were obsessed with, Bucky quickly noticing how you gravitated.
Bucky fell in love with the in-home office. He could already see himself settling in and getting classwork done or maybe he visualized you seated on his lap for a round of fun while he sent his stressors away. He could envision house parties here with Steve, Sam, Millie, and Nikki. He saw the potential in the home and already, this was both of your favorites on the list.
The bedrooms were huge, with a grand master easily decided to be your and Bucky’s if you opted for this home. The bathroom seemed even bigger with a tub big enough to fix three. His and hers vanities were colored in a dark grey paint with marble countertops that had flicks of silver.
Another room was seen, this one quickly being envisioned to be the twins’ nursery. You could already see you and Bucky painting the walls different colors and theming it to whatever you had come up with. Tears welled in your eyes as you passed throughout the other areas until you were finally taken onto the balcony that was attached to the master bedroom. Large french doors opened up to a well-manicured backyard with a swimming pool in the very center that was fenced around with a slide attached.
“I can already see myself having coffee out here every morning,” You whispered, hanging onto the railing of the balcony. Bucky smiled, leaning forward to kiss your cheek as he wrapped an arm around you. Denise had left the two of you alone to explore the home for yourselves after she listed the other pros such as the best school in the district wasn’t but two miles away. Recreational activities for the kids were on every corner, along with it being in close proximity to the college for Bucky.
“Doll, I’m already in love with it, and this was only the first house.” Bucky laughed, kissing your neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He rested his two large palms on your belly and gave it a subtle stroke, feeling light taps of feet kicking against his hands. “And I think the twins agree.” He added with a gentle, heartfelt smile.
Giggling quietly, you couldn’t believe this was happening.
“Let’s check out the pool then head to the next one?” You suggested, Bucky agreeing. When you made it down to the backyard and you saw how large it was upon stepping out of the two french doors leading toward it, you had to cover your mouth to withhold the threatening gasps. Denise already knew that sound meant you were hooked.
“Should I even show you two the other three homes?” She laughed, bringing you and Bucky to share a look.
“I think it’s a good idea, yeah,” Bucky answered. “Just so we know.Right, Doll?”
“LOOK AT THE SWING! THEY HAVE A BACKYARD SWING!” You exclaimed from somewhere out in the open. Bucky’s eyes lifted when he saw you seated on the wooden swing, kicking your legs back and forth as you giggled like a teenager. Bucky broke out into a wide grin.
When Denise showed you two the other three homes, immediately none of them compared to the one with the pool and in-home office. As the day drew to a close, Denise was already preparing an offer on the first home.
“Decision has been made? The two-story home on Carter Avenue?” She asked for clarification. You and Bucky held each other’s hand, both of you grinning from ear to ear.
“That’s the one,” You smiled, already seeing yourself in the future. You envisioned the pitter-patter of toddler feet racing down the halls while you and Bucky chased in behind them, until they would turn into elementary, then middle, even high school teenagers. It swelled your heart and made your world spin quickly, causing you to leane further into Bucky for support.
“Alright, let’s get an offer together and I’ll send it over to the owners.” She smiled in satisfaction.
As you both left with your hopes lifted that this very house would be yours soon, Bucky and you sat in the car for a few moments of sweet silence. You both looked up at the home, your smile erupting.
“I can’t believe this… We’re actually looking to buy a house together.” You expressed with a bright smile. Bucky laughed, reaching a hand over to wrap it around your thigh.
“I know… I can’t wait to do this with you,” He said, his eyes casting into yours. You slowly turned your head to face him, not helping but to lean over the best you could in order to give him a kiss.
You felt a few more kicks swell in your belly, making you gasp. They were much harder than before and you giggled, hurrying to grab Bucky’s hand. You rested it on your side and his eyes widened as he felt them for himself.
“You guys are excited too, aren’t you?” Bucky asked in a sweet voice.
Soon, the two of you were back at Bucky’s shared home with Steve and Sam. The two had gone out for the night while Millie opted to spend the night at Nikki’s, giving you and Bucky some privacy… And that meant the two of you were sprawled out in bed together, binge-watching a series while Bucky graded last-minute papers.
Once he wrapped up and joined you for cuddles, you licked your lips. “Bucky, what are we going to name them?” You asked.
“I thought they’re being named Razzle and Dazzle Barnes?” He laughed, referencing Millie. You slapped his shoulder playfully, rolling your eyes as you tossed back a chip.
“I’m being serious!” You smiled. “I’m due Febuary 25th, but honestly, twins normally don’t make it to 40 weeks… And even though it seems like we have time - we really don’t. I’d like to start calling them by their name… Even if they don’t understand it yet.” You laughed.
Bucky nodded his head in agreement. “What were you thinking? Twins usually have rhyming names or the same letter.”
You bit down on your lip. “But do we really want to go traditional?”You asked.
Bucky shok his head. “No, these kids are different from others. So, they deserve two different names… How about we compromise. You name one baby, I’ll name the other?” He suggested.
You smiled excitedly. “You name the girl, I’ll name the boy?” You raised your eyebrows.
Bucky wrapped his arm around you. “I was hoping you’d let me name her… Because I already had a name in mind.”
Your eyes widened. “Really? Because I already have a boy’s name in mind…”
Bucky moved to sit up, taking this moment seriously. “You go first.” He ushered.
He helped you to sit up. You swallowed the lump that threatened to form. You had the name picked out since you were younger and you hoped Bucky would appreciate it. The first name was easy, and now that you knew Bucky, you wanted to honor him.
“Lucas Buchanan,” You answered. “And we can call him Luke for short.”
Bucky’s eyes widened. “You… You want to give him my middle name?” He asked, his eyes suddenly blurring. You nodded and that’s when you felt him pull you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you.
“Lucas Buchanan Barnes… I love that,” He laughed, kissing you passionately. You smiled widely, thankful and relieved that he approved.
“Alright! Tell me what you have for a girl,” You grinned excitedly.
Bucky smiled. “I’ve given it a lot of thought.. I have a feeling you’ll certainly be up for it, but I was just thinking of how one person in our lives has helped us so much. After all… I wouldn’t have found out you were pregnant without her telling me…”
Your eyes started to widen.
Bucky inhaled.
“I want to name our daughter after the best…Eliza Millie,”He announced
“Bucky,”You gasped, covering your mouth. It was your turn for tears to well up. He held you closer, his lips pressing against yours as you held his cheeks.
“Luke and Eliza,” You whispered. “I think they’re perfect.”
Bucky grinned. “Just like the woman carrying them,” He winked, making your cheeks heat up.
Before you realized it, the two of you found yourselves tucked away beneath the sheets, your hands roaming across one another freely. You were basking in the glow of Bucky,never having been more thankful for somebody in your life. Everything was beginning to make sense now.
Hydra agent #1: *Points weapon at Y/N and Bucky* What is your purpose in this base?
Hydra agent #2: Yeah. And no lies.
Y/N: Well, then, I confess, it is my intention to commandeer one of these ships.
Y/N: Pick up the rest of the Avengers in Switzerland, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer my weasely black guts out.
Hydra agent #2: I said no lies!
Y/N and Bucky: *Looks at each other and rolls their eyes*
Y/N, to Bucky: You take idiot number one and I’ll take idiot number two.
Bucky: You got it.
*A few moments later*
Y/N: Well that was easy.
Bucky: Yeah, tell me about it.
Y/N: Say, why don’t we go get some pizza before we go pick up the others?
Bucky: Alright! But you’re paying this time.
Y/N: Aw, come on! I paid last time.
Bucky: No, you didn’t. You drove us to get pizza then you “accidentally” left your wallet in the truck, went to go get it and didn’t come back in until I paid.
Y/N: Pfft! I- thought I left it in the truck! *Mumbles* it just so happens I had it in my jacket the whole time…
Bucky: Ya know I have super hearing right?
Y/N:…
Y/N: *Starts running* Last one to the ship pays for pizza!!
Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Princess!Reader (Royal AU)
Summary: Obedience, duty, pristine smiles—raised as the princess of an oppressive kingdom, you knew nothing else. Your father signed your life away at the ripe age of five, black ink bleeding into a contract between nations, fate cemented with the flick of a quill. So when the time came to fulfill the promises you were too young to make, you expected much of the same in the land of Brookshire. But Prince James had other plans, as did the enemies looming outside the castle walls.
Word count:5k
Warnings: Some rising tensions, corset drama, and a little more fluff <3
a/n: I love love feedback, so let me know what you think!! There’s some angst on the horizon
“Darling, have you seen the view from the east window?” Bucky called, his voice distant from the other end of the dining table.
“Prince James, this is the third morning in a row you’ve asked me that.”
“Well, this is the third morning in a row that you’ve sat so far away.”
You glanced up from your breakfast with a small smile, your brow arched. “It is customary for us to sit here,” you explained, motioning toward the chairs opposite to each other. “That’s why your staff set the table this way.”
“Customary for who?”
“Royals, Prince James.”
Bucky scoffed, his chair scraping the floor as he got up, his plate clinking against his fork as he gripped it between rushed fingers. It took about four, long steps before he reached the seat to your left, and then he pulled it out with just as much dramatism.
“Perhaps, as a pair, we do away with royal customs that have me sitting a mile away from my wife,” he concluded, plopping down on cushion and wood with a grace he certainly hadn’t learned from a court tutor. “Besides, I’m thinking that whoever created that rule must not have been married to you.”
Your face burned as it usually did when he made comments like that. Bucky seemed to love making your relationship feel like a casual affair, as if your union hadn’t been set in stone for years, the pairing a political tactic your father used to send you away. He seemed to love making you feel like he was falling for you by choice.
“We are not even married,” you reminded him. “No matter how many times you call me your wife.”
Wife—a word he used with frequency, as of late.
He hummed. “Not yet, my princess.”
His foot slid to meet yours under the table; a small brush, but a purposeful one. You lost your breath for a moment as Bucky continued to eat his breakfast, feigning indifference with a bite of bread just as his ankle brushed yours. And then his eyes turned up to yours with a knowing glint. But before you could say anything back, the dining room doors opened with an echoing boom.
“I apologize, Your Highnesses,” an unsure voice sounded. “But… well Prince James, the queen is going over a few last minute preparations for tomorrow, and she said that you insisted on being the one to confirm the guest list.”
Bucky’s eyes refused to leave yours as he replied, “Thank you, Peter. You can tell my mother that I—”
“She told me not to come back unless you were with me,” Peter interrupted, a small, apologetic smile etched onto his face.
You bit back a laugh at the vexation blooming along Bucky’s brow, his jaw ticking as he finally tore his eyes from you. He went back and forth with Peter for a while, trying to demand more time with you since he was the one that decided whether or not Peter got knighted. But the witty squire took those empty threats in stride, further insisting that the queen was still the one he reported to.
Well, until the coronation anyway. And the wedding.
“Fine,” Bucky finally huffed, discontentedly. “If my mother truly needs me at this very moment, I suppose I will miss out on my fleeting, invaluable time with the princess here.”
You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. “I will see you tomorrow night, Prince James.”
“Yes, but there will be so many people there. And they will all want to dance with you. I hardly think I will get a moment of your time before you are whisked away in the arms of some old commander or nobleman.”
If you were being honest, the night was going to go exactly as Bucky described it. It was a ball to welcome the new princess to court; a way to introduce you to the neighboring lands and get the government of Brookshire acquainted with their soon to be queen. You would have to laugh at bad jokes and dance with old men and wear those heels that Bucky insisted you shove into the far corner of your closet.
You would have very little time with the prince, and while that saddened you, it also afforded you a sliver of unkind reality.
This night was what your entire life had been—your life before Bucky. So it would be easy to fall back into the routine, to smile when you didn’t want to and dance with those you didn’t know. You’d dance the waltzes ingrained in your muscle memory and slink back into dark corners when the men started discussing the country’s politics. And it would be okay. Because back in Hyland, you’d end these nights alone in your quarters, feeling empty and used.
But tomorrow night, you had a feeling you wouldn’t have to feel that way. That maybe, if you asked, Bucky would be there, ready and willing to make you feel whole again.
“Perhaps you would be better off finding a moment of my time after the ball then?”
Bucky’s smile was vibrant, his hands reaching out to brush your hair from your eyes as he stood from the table. He kept your cheeks between his hands for a moment longer, admiring you with your spoon still held out in front of you, an unexpecting expression on your face.
“I will,” he affirmed, leaning down to press a kiss on your hairline. You almost dropped your spoon. “I’ll see you tomorrow, darling.”
Yes—you were positive that while the ball would be draining, Bucky… Bucky would be everything you needed to fix that. Everything you needed all along.
~~
The corset pulled tighter around your ribs, Natasha wincing with each tug as she kneeled before you, lacing the shoes you surely couldn’t reach anymore. The royal dresser let out a huff from behind you before wiping her brow and tying off the ribbon. She bowed, handed Natasha the rest of your formal wear, and then left with a smile.
“She was nice,” Natasha hummed, helping you into the rest of your dress.
“I don’t think I have ever had a dresser apologize so many times,” you remarked, trying to relieve some tension on your waist. “I think she thought I was going to pass out.”
“Well, it has been some time since you last wore a corset.”
“I cannot believe I used to wear these every day,” you exasperated.
Natasha grumbled at that, replying snarkily, “You used to be forced to wear them every day.”
She laced together the final pieces of your dress, the tool and silk falling in beautiful waves along the floor. You adjusted your posture once more, trying to find a comfortable position to breathe. You were sure you looked like the perfect picture of the monarchy, but you truly were out of practice when it came to royal dress; Bucky and the ladies of this court were quite adamant that day dresses and comfortable footwear were more than acceptable for your daily life.
It was nothing like back at home, with metal binding constantly strapped to your back and your toes constantly pinched together in tiny shoes.
You comforted your friend with a hand on her shoulder and an understanding look. You knew how much she hated your treatment back in Hyland. But she knew that if she ever said anything, the small privileges she was afforded would’ve been taken from her in a single blink. And her position would’ve dropped as well, sending her far, far away from you.
“It’s okay, Natasha. It’s different here.” You took careful steps to the door, reaching for the brass handles, knowing the guards were waiting for you on the other side. “I think it will stay that way.”
The walk to the ballroom was glistening—the floors, the walls, the lights. You were in the south wing of the castle, where the balls were held and the guests resided, and—apparently—where all of the marble in the kingdom was held. You found yourself missing the charming cobblestone and tile that made up the wing you stayed in. You missed the wide open windows and the linen curtains that rustled each morning. The ocean that woke you up with a different kind of gleam… the kind that lit up the oil paintings on your walls and slid along your skin in delicate patterns.
When Steve gave you a tour upon your arrival, you hadn’t noticed the contrast as much; the castle was so large and you were taken into so many rooms. But it was jarring now—the stiffness of the guest wing. You wondered why your wing was so different, since Bucky obviously stayed there as well. You wondered who the designers had in mind when they put together the comfort that you loved so much.
“Are you ready?” Natasha whispered by your ear. You hadn’t even noticed the grand doors in front of you, their intricate wooden patterns waiting to be pushed open. You could hear the music on the other side, the sounds of expensive shoes against polished marble.
“Of course,” you replied, but your voice wasn’t as strong as you remembered it to be just moments before.
The doors were opened anyway.
Immediate silence. Violins stopped, the people parted; you stood just beyond the doors, head held high in a feigned confidence—a product of years and years of practice. The announcer called out your name and title in a voice you were so used to, and your next job was simply to smile and walk in. To make your way to the seat at the head of the room, and sit until you were asked to dance by one of the expensive shoes.
But then Bucky was there, stepping in your path with his hand held out in offerance. Bucky was there and he was smiling at you with those boyish eyes, still so youthful even when paired with his royal military uniform.
You took a glance back at Natasha, questioning your next move; she had never led you astray. With a small smile, she nodded her head, and you turned to take the hand you never quite let yourself believe would be there when you were growing up.
The music began the second Bucky took your waist. It was the Merry Widow Waltz, a dance you’d learned just after you were able to walk. An admittedly glance dance, one to welcome you to the festivities, surely, and you were glad when other couples joined the floor soon after—less attention on you, were you to mess up the steps.
Bucky guided you along the floor with practiced ease, tugging you closer to his chest around others, smiling down at you when you risked a glance up at him.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered by your ear, when the dance took you farther away from the center of the floor. “You always do.”
For the first time at any ball, you let a laugh free, “I wasn’t expecting a dance so soon, Prince James. I only just entered the room.”
He released you, using one hand to twirl you away, but quickly capturing your waist back in his grip. This was supposed to be a fast-paced waltz, with the couple leaving distance between each other for quick moves. But Bucky kept the two of you about one step behind the rest of the room, his desire to keep you close slowing you down. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care as his nose brushed yours.
“I told you, princess. You are the star of the evening. I must take all the time I can get.”
The dance ended long before you wanted it to, Bucky parting from you with a bow and wink that left you feeling privy to some information you had never even shared. Maybe that’s just how it felt to be falling in love—like you had some secret that no one else could ever understand.
You ruminated on the thought as the evening progressed. When you were spun around the room and asked about your homeland, all you could think about were the eyes tracking you from the far side of the ball, how they looked at you in a way that no one else did. When your gloved hand was kissed by noblemen and governors, you were reminded of the way Bucky kissed your hand, and your head and your fingers… how each touch of his lips sent you falling down a well of uncharted feelings.
You thought about kissing him back.
You were only pulled from your clouded daze when it was time to actually meet the other royals in the room—the whole purpose of the evening. Steve stood beside you on the steps leading up to the thrones, his shined and polished shoes just a tad bit untied.
“This is King T’Challa. He rules over Wakanda. Brookshire does a lot of trade with his kingdom.”
“It is lovely to meet you,” you greeted, shoulder slightly pressing against Steve’s chest in familiarity. “I am so excited to become more acquainted with you and your people.”
The king gave you a firm handshake and a smile, but didn’t stick around for small talk. He was one of the easier royals to meet—kind but to the point. The rest of the gentlemen were more chatty, some of the women were more stiff. A few younger royals came up to speak about future prospects and Steve had to shoo them away with a small laugh. Natasha joined you on the steps after the fourth group that came to bow and meet you, and you relaxed more then.
“Almost done,” Steve promised, a strong hand placed on your arm. “I believe there is only one more guest we have yet to meet. She arrived a little late but I saw her and her—ah, Sharon!”
You looked up from your shoes, eyes falling on the blonde in purple silk making her way to the front of the room. You recognized her; she danced with Bucky three songs after you arrived. Not that you were keeping track. A lot of people were dancing with Bucky tonight.
She reached you and offered a small smile, one you reciprocated with ease and a bow. “It is nice to finally meet you, Princess y/n,” she said, her head dipping.
“Finally?” you questioned. Queen Sharon was the ruler of Madripoor, a place you only learned about after arriving in Brookshire. You definitely hadn’t had any correspondence before this.
“Yes, I feel as if I already know you!” she laughed. “Bucky speaks of you so freely. I swear you were on his mind before he even got the chance to ask poor Steve what you looked like.”
You blinked, the use of Bucky’s name surprising you. Well—the use of his name along with Steve’s, and of the familiarity this queen seemed to have with your fiancé. But Bucky had an entire life before you came along, and you needed to remember that. It was just jarring since the past weeks had been secluded to the two of you. This was the first time you had come into contact with the outside world since you arrived in Brookshire, and a small kind of bubble was bursting.
“Oh, of course,” you conceded, with a laugh you had practiced many times. “I suppose there is much to talk about when you’ve been engaged for so many years.”
“Yes, many years.”
Her tone confused you, its slight bite unwarranted and out of place. You pretended it didn’t with another fake laugh. You couldn’t quite mask the tightness in your throat, however, the night verging on overwhelming, especially with this queen’s terseness. You took half a step back to reach the comfort of your friends.
“Well, it was so nice to formally meet you. I’m sure we will be seeing each other often with how close you are to this court.” Almost through gritted teeth. Almost. Natasha’s subtle hand on your wrist kept you polite.
Sharon’s exit was as graceful as her entrance, this time with Steve following behind her with an invitation to dance. You were fairly certain he only did that for you, Natasha’s quick glance over at your cousin conveying all that it needed to.
You turned to your lady in waiting the second Sharon was out of ear shot. “I know I’m not too versed in this kind of thing, but was she…? She didn’t like me, did she?”
Natasha gave you a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure there are many here tonight that are—wanting for your situation. It can make them bitter.”
“Wanting for my situation?” you questioned, baffled. “And what situation is that?”
“Y/n, your fiancé would be the most eligible bachelor in the continent if not for you. You must know that. A crown, a kingdom, a face like that—he has it all, and you took it before they even had a chance.”
You reared back at her insinuation. “It’s not as if I had a choice. You know that better than anyone here.”
“I know, I know,” she placated. “But it does not help when all of the women in the room keep trying to catch his attention and he won’t stop staring at you like that.”
You snapped your gaze in the direction of her hand, spotting Bucky in the center of the ballroom, a champagne flute between his fingers and a dazed look on his face as he seemingly ignored the nobleman talking his ear off. He was ignoring him in favor of watching you, and he didn’t show any signs of getting bored.
Your eyes turning to him was all the confirmation he needed to end his mundane conversation, his drink suddenly pushed into the hands of an unexpecting man. He weaved through the crowd with small apologies and light smiles until he found the base of the stairs, and you did as well, your feet guiding you down to him subconsciously.
“Princess,” he greeted, breathless. “Am I correct in assuming that this next moment of time belongs to me?”
Your smile was contagious, any ill feelings left by the thrones, far away from Bucky. “Completely.”
And even though your feet hurt terribly and your chest struggled to capture a full breath, you felt lightheaded as he whisked you to the floor, carefree. He gathered you in his arms and you were transported to the horses and the flowers and the rays of canary-colored sun that usually came with his citrusy scent, the hints of early morning tea and comfort all wrapped up in the man holding you so closely.
But then the music started, and you were very abruptly thrown out of the dreamy solace you loved so much.
“I do not know this dance,” you panicked. “Prince James, this waltz—what is it?”
Bucky shook his head with fond eyes, his thumb brushing down your temple. “There is no waltz for this dance, my princess.”
You gaped. “I will embarrass you. I’ve never danced without a waltz before. I’ll look like a fool, Prince James, I cannot—”
“I requested this song for you.” Bucky kept his voice low, and you struggled to maintain a calm state with others dancing around you, apparently so sure of the next steps to take. “They play it at every ball, but there isn’t one dance for it.” He let both of his hands trail down to your waist—certainly not a proper position. “Let me show you.”
Your heart beating out of your chest, your palms damp from panic, you nodded your head because as much as you hated to admit it, you’d let Bucky show you just about anything.
And so he showed you.
His hands never left your waist, even when the rest of the room parted to spin and take up hands with others. He consistently held you to him, and his laugh echoing against your chest was the sweetest sound, surpassing any melodic flutes or violins in the space.
You had no idea what pattern your feet were making, nor how many times you had spun around in the same spot on the floor, but Bucky didn’t seem to care. His fingers ran up the boning of your corset and brushed the small bit of exposed skin above your shoulders; they trailed there until he pressed his palm to your neck as well, ushering your head to his chest.
The music kept its upbeat tune, but you did not, because Bucky held you there instead. The reverberation of heels and leather pounded into the soles of your shoes, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to move—couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed when the consistent thud of Bucky’s sweet heart was there against your cheek and wholly, completely yours.
You pulled away slightly, head light from the champagne or your fiancé’s touch, you couldn’t tell. “Bucky,” you whispered, a secret in the air between you, one he would surely keep. “Shall we leave?”
And although it was long before the others would turn in, some guests even staying the night due to how long they would dance, Bucky couldn’t help but give you anything you ever wanted.
“Of course, my darling.”
He would think about the way his name sounded on your lips every night for the next week, but for now, he held your waist as you giggled and pretended to sneak around confused party guests. He fell in love with you just a little more, watching your dress slide against unused marble, knowing that the girl he chased through the halls was just that—a girl. Not a royal or a pawn to be moved around.
But you were his girl, and that made all the difference.
~~
“They are sleeping, princess.”
“You told me there were ducks here.”
“I am very sorry to disappoint,” Bucky laughed, feigning sincerity with a hand over his chest.
You hummed. “You don’t seem very sorry.” You stepped back from the pond, taking a seat on the bench under the aging willow. “In fact, you appear to be very amused by my sorrow.”
Bucky scoffed, rounding his side of the tree to come and join you. He was mused from the night, his hair disheveled and his collar askew; he looked kissed by joy and roused by the dim shine of the moon, and you were having trouble conjuring any other picture of beauty.
“I can assure you,” he spoke out to the pond, his thigh pressing to yours. “Your sorrow could never amuse me. Shall I find a groundskeeper to wake the ducks? Would that appease you, my princess?”
“Of course not. Then the ducks would resent me.”
He turned to you, adoration shining with the stars in his eyes. “We wouldn’t want that.”
With the crickets blaring amongst the high brush by the spring pond, the water rippling with small life, you leaned your shoulder into his. Bucky responded with a brush of his fingers against yours on the surface of the bench, capturing them after only a moment’s hesitation. When he pressed your palms together, words were falling from your mouth before you could stop them.
“I would paint this,” you admitted, only a little embarrassed. “I used to paint. In secret.”
Bucky’s thumb brushed the back of your hand before he responded, “I know. Steve would tell me of your works—how beautiful they were. I don’t know if you got my letters—”
“I got them,” you interrupted. “I just… I didn’t think they were coming from you. I thought they were a ploy from your court. Some obligatory correspondence.”
“They were from me. All of them.”
You knew this. After all of your time with Bucky, you knew that those words were his and his alone; that his sentiments were sincere and that he was a kind prince that would turn into an even more benevolent king.
Minus the ducks of course.
“You could still paint here. If you’d like to, of course,” Bucky whispered. It was almost lost in the rustling willow leaves.
You took in a large breath, gearing up for a long protest about why that was unnecessary—your hobbies were not something that should take up the time of others—when a sharp pain sprouted just below your ribs. The corset, of course; sitting too long with your chest confined in such a way was never good for heavy breathing. You attempted to ground yourself with a steady hand to your stomach, but Bucky was more observant than that.
“Are you alright?” he stressed, standing and bringing you along with him. “Did the tasters miss something? Have you been poisoned?”
Your laugh was stifled by the steel boning along your waist. “No, Bucky, I am fine. It’s nothing to concern yourself with.”
“Thank you for the dismissal but everything to do with you is my concern.”
You focused on the soft pressure of Bucky’s hands on your hips as you steadied your breathing; you had a lot of practice with this kind of feeling, and after a few moments it would pass. But with Bucky tilting his head to catch your eyes, the worry set deep in his brow, you were having a hard time with the otherwise simple task. When he brushed his touch up to your chin, angling your gaze to his, you were no longer sure if the corset was the problem.
“What is it?” he asked, so gently you almost fell into the words
“My corset. I’m just not accustomed to the restriction anymore. It will pass, Bucky, just give me a moment.”
“It’s so tight that it’s hurting you?”
“That is typically the purpose of a corset,” you jested, a grim smile passing over your face.
Bucky shot forward, quick hands coming around you to find the hooks of your gown. “You must take it off.”
It took you a moment to register his words, but as his nimble fingers found the top clasp of your dress, you knocked his arms away at the absurdity.
“I cannot!“ you exclaimed. “If someone were to see me undressing out here with you, there would be an unstoppable onslaught of rumors.”
Bucky huffed, now a slight tightness in his jaw, more concern shining through. “Rumors about what, darling? A couple, engaged to be married, having a secret rendezvous by the pond? I’m sure there is more interesting court gossip than that.”
“We are not yet married.”
“And I am simply trying to ensure that my fiancée doesn’t suffocate,” Bucky rushed, attempting once again to free you from the uncomfortable garment. He got a clasp free this time.
You slid back, unraveling yourself from his arms. “Prince James!” you scolded.
“Back to that? I’ve become so fond of hearing you say my name.”
“Fine,Bucky,” you tried. “Either way, you cannot take my corset off. It is… extremely improper. The dressers have to do that, and they typically prefer to do it inside.”
With all of your frustrated huffs and helpless quips, you found yourself struggling more and more to capture a full breath. Your chest rose and fell at an alarming rate, your hands coming up to set comfort into your stomach, but finding little solace there. You were panicked at the prospect of someone finding you out here, half dressed, but the alternative—keeping the corset on—was becoming impossible.
What surprised you, however, was your lack of discomfort at the idea of Bucky pulling the laces from your back. You hadn’t even given that aspect of it all a second thought when he reached for you, instead focusing on the humiliation of discovery. You didn’t have time to unpack those feelings; Bucky was talking again, low and comforting.
“You trust me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.” An answer without hesitation—without thinking.
He smiled, softly. “Then turn around.”
Your gaze flickered between his eyes a few more times, your skin resisting the soft breeze on your cheeks. Bucky’s lips parted before he reached for you, and the sword he had strapped to his hip on the way out the door clinked against the metal of his belt. It took one final, nervous wring of your hands and you were facing the willow again, blind to Bucky’s actions.
His fingers touched you first—tentative against your neck, sweeping the ties from your necklace away from the laces of your corset. They lingered there, and you could feel the gentle puff of his breath prickle your skin. He trailed down the indent of your spine until he met the base of the ribbon.
The first pull left a sound resonating past the pond, silk brushing against silk, cotton releasing from its bind. Bucky’s left hand came up to steady your waist in an unnecessary touch. It warmed you through your dress, consumed you like a fire that bloomed up past your neck and spread through your mind.
And then he pulled again and again and again, each tug loosening your chest and constricting it for a completely different reason. You held the corset against you when it fully released, and Bucky let his hands slide up your arms as you stood there, lashes fluttering for someone that couldn’t see it.
“Is that better?”
“Yes,” you breathed out, unable to turn around. “Much better, thank you.”
Lips behind your ear, stealing all of the air from your body with their gentle pressure. “We must get you back in your room before others see you in such a state of undress.” His hands squeezed your arms. “I think my quarters are closer.”
Your face burned, turning on the heel of your shoe with gusto. “I think you are pushing it.”
Bucky reached up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, playful eyes never straying lower than your lips. “I was only joking, my darling,” he hummed, cupping your cheek in his hand. You leaned into it instantly. “I’d wait forever for you. You know that, don’t you?”
And a part of you, the part that was growing and becoming so used to Bucky’s sweet disposition, did know.
summary: bucky - y/n’s dad’s best friend - knows that she likes him. when bucky is invited to join the family for the annual winter vacation, alcohol begins to flow and with it, drunken confessions.
summary: in the aftermath of bucky’s drunken confession, y/n and her dad’s best friend attempt to set out some boundaries to ensure they don’t do anything stupid. when y/n’s parents leave them alone at the cabin for a few hours, all rules and boundaries are forgotten.
-
part three: [coming soon]
teaser: one too many glasses of wine, a restaurant bathroom and a man almost twice her age. what more could a girl want?
Summary: When you’re home alone, you convince yourself that Bucky deserves more
Warning: insecure reader, angst, throwing up, heartbreak, i don’t mean any hate toward natasha during this fic, let’s be honest if my bf was hanging around natasha i’d be insecure, have you seen her???
A/n: was requested (@scorpionchild81) but put my own spin on it to fit my 1k celebration! sorry it’s so short :(
You grip the toilet tighter as you throw up, tears rolling down your cheeks. You’ve been throwing up for what seems like hours, but you’ve been crying for weeks. This happens every time Bucky goes on a mission, leaving you all alone. Things are perfect when Bucky is home, but as soon as he leaves… The doubt sets in.
You don’t hear from him for weeks sometimes, you don’t know where he is, who he’s with… You know Bucky loves you, but should he?
How could he really love you, when Natasha is right there next to him? She’s a badass! She’s just like him… She took her trauma and made it into something positive. She’s beautiful, she’s funny, she’s strong…
All you do is sit at home and wait for Bucky to return. You can’t relate to him about much of anything. He’s 100 years old, you’re 23. Natasha might not be able to relate to the age part, but you know how deep their conversations get about their trauma.
Bucky opens up to her about things he won’t dare talk to you about.
You throw up again, your heart breaking in your chest. You don’t know why you even still try to convince him that he should be with you. You know the truth, he should be with Natasha.
You scramble for your phone, dialing Bucky’s number. You haven’t spoken to him since he’s been gone, which hasn’t helped your anxiety. You don’t want to wait until he’s home, you want the relief now. If you’re not with him, you can’t be upset about what he’s doing when he’s gone.
The phone rings, but proceeds to go to voicemail. Your breath hitches in your throat, a tear rolling down your cheek.
“This is Bucky, leave a message. Or don’t, I probably won’t call back either way,”
The sound of his voice has you choking a sob back, your lip trembling. You hear the beep, scrambling to come up with words. “Uh, Bucky… This is y/n,” You say, rolling your eyebrows as you remember he already knows who it is, thanks to caller ID.
“I know you’re busy, but uh, I thought I should tell you now, before you come home,” You say, your voice broken and quiet. You lean your head against the wall behind you, taking a deep breath. You don’t know how to break this to him, especially over the phone.
You know he’ll be better off without you, better off with someone who understands him. “I won’t be home when you come back. I’m sorry, Buck, but I can’t do this anymore. You deserve better, you deserve someone like you,” You say, your voice failing you, sobs taking over. You instantly hang up, not wanting him to hear you cry anymore.
You sob against the bathroom floor, wrapped in his shirt, knowing you’ll never where his clothes again.
—-
You’re in the bathroom of your new apartment, getting ready for bed. You don’t know when Bucky went home, or even if he went home. You’ve blocked his number, not wanting to put yourself through that pain again.
it’s over, there’s no need to rehash things when he gets home. He deserves better, that’s that. You wonder what he did when he got the message. Was he relieved? DId he run to Natasha, telling her that you were gone? Did he even miss you?
No, he doesn’t miss you. You’re not the kind of girl guys miss when it’s over. You’re the kind of girl guys are relieved about when you leave. Finally, the boring nights, meaningless arguments… It’s over.
Natasha is the kind of girl guys miss when it’s over.
You splash water on your face, closing your eyes as the cold water wakes you up. Water runs down your forearms, landing on Bucky’s red henley. You swore you wouldn’t take any of his clothes when you left, but you always did love this shirt.
You inhale deeply, trying to get yourself to relax, to forget about Bucky. You lift your head up, opening your eyes as you stand straight up. Your breath hitches in your throat as you see Bucky standing behind you, his eyes fixed on yours through the mirror.
“Bucky, how the–”
Before you can finish, Bucky is spinning you around, pinning you against the counter. His eyes are red, his lips puffy and his cheeks red. “How could you?” He asks, breathlessly.
You gulp, your bottom lip trembling. It’s obvious he’s been wrecked, just like you have been. It’s obvious you’ve broken his heart.
“Bucky, I had to. You deserve better,” You whisper, your voice breaking.
Bucky shakes his head, furrowing his eyebrows. “Better? I deserve better?”
You push past him, not wanting to be trapped in this tiny bathroom with him. “You need to leave,” You say, trying to convince yourself that’s what you want.
Bucky follows you, using his metal arm to grab your flesh one. The metal of his fingers burn into your skin, digging into your bone. “Tell me, y/n. If I don’t deserve you, what do I deserve?”
You refuse to look at his eyes. You don’t answer, wanting this to be over already. You were at peace with your decision, why did he have to come back?
“Tell me!’ He barks, raising his voice. You finally look at him, watching the tears stream down his face.
"Natasha, alright? You deserve Natasha!” You say, jerking your arm away from him.
Bucky furrows his eyebrows, taking a step back. “Natasha…?” He asks, muttering under his breath. You wipe your eyes, sniffling.
“What are you talking about?”
You shake your head, dropping your eyes to the ground. “You deserve someone like you, Buck. I can’t understand you. I can try, I can pretend I understand you, but there are things I’ll never understand about you, because I’ve never gone through what you’ve gone through. Natasha has… I can never be what you need,” You admit, your tears rolling down your cheeks.
Bucky stares at you blankly, his lips parted. You can see the gears turning in his head, but you can’t tell what he’s thinking. “Y/n… Natasha is a friend. She’s my friend because she understands what I’ve gone through. But… For you to try to put yourself in my shoes… To try to understand me, that’s what makes you a good girlfriend. I don’t need you to understand me, I just need you to love me.” Bucky reassures you, his voice soft.
You keep your eyes on the ground, sniffling quietly.
Bucky moves closer to you, reaching out and wrapping his arms around you. You fall into his touch, snuggling against his chest. “You’re the only thing that makes me feel human. I love Natasha, but part of me still feels like a monster when I’m on a mission. It reminds me of everything I went through. The best part of a mission is coming home to you, coming home and feeling like a human. You’re the only person who makes it all go away,” He says, cradling your head against his chest.
You allow him to hold you, soaking in his presence. The past few days have been horrible. You’ve been trying to distract yourself from the fact that your heart was breaking in two. You missed having Bucky in bed with you. You missed waking up next to Bucky.
You don’t want to be without Bucky, you want to be with him for the rest of your life. You just want him to have what he deserves. You lift your head, sniffling. “You’re sure I’m what you want?” You ask, your voice quiet.
Bucky cradles your face in his bruised hands, a smile slowly creeping across his face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life,”
summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is discharged from active duty and sent back to civilian life. Left with a storm of unchecked guilt, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meetsyou. (Modern AU) parings: bucky x reader (veteran!bucky x librarian!reader) series word count: ~57k warnings: heavy emphasis on Bucky’s PTSD and depression (panic attacks, nightmares, dissociation, flashbacks, survivor’s guilt), a super sweet and shy Bucky, a bunch of book recs, smut (18+, will be marked by chapter with *), a surprising amount of fluff given these warnings
He says it all woozy and completely deadpan, totally at ease - a natural flirt - like waking up in a hospital with a neck brace on and your motorcycle presumably totaled in some back alley was just another thing on a Tuesday’s schedule to tick off.
Who knows; maybe it was for this guy.
pairing: biker bucky x nurse!reader
summary:bucky barnes is a magnet for danger, bad karma, and pretty woman - not necessarily in that order. a motorcycle crash lands him in reader’s ER, and it looks like he might have just found himself a new game of high-stakes chase.
synopsis: part one of - hopefully - a new series, content warnings for minor medical procedures, i.e., injections and such. biker bucky is always a classic, and i wanted to write it, so i did.
Summary: Caught in an anti-hero demonstration, you become an unwilling participant in a political game of tug of war. Tony Stark wants you to be the new poster child for his pro-Avengers rhetoric, Nick Fury wants you to fade into the background, and Bucky Barnes… wants something else from you entirely.
Warnings: Near Death Experience, Noncon, Stalking, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Smut, Breeding. Blackmail, Infidelity, Dark!AU, Grey/Dark Avengers AU, Dead dove Do not eat
A/N: um. i think you all could see the signs that things were about to go from zero to sixty with the ending of the last chapter, but just in case you didn’t, here’s your warning. updated the warnings a bit to reflect the content from here on out! bottom divider by @firefly-graphics!
The work below is my own, and is unbeta’d and unedited. I do not consent for it to be translated and or posted elsewhere by anyone but myself. Minors, DNI!
Bucky leaves shortly after Patrick gets back, and you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong, very wrong, for the rest of the day. While you shower, as you go through the stretches the physical therapist taught you, as you run loving fingers through Pat’s hair. The wrongness won’t abate, won’t leave you alone.
The Black Widow arrives a few hours later, and declines your hesitant offer to come inside. No thank you, she’d said with a tart smile. I’m better from outside. Patrick is just grateful to have the apartment back, spreading out on the couch and surfing channels aimlessly. You, on the other hand, can’t stop turning over this morning’s events in your head, gnawing at it like a dog with a bone.
The cold hand, the beard, the voice that wasn’t Pat’s—
Your stomach fills with lead.
Youknow what the truth is, but you can barely even think it. It doesn’t make sense, for one, that Bucky would sneak into your room and do that.He’s half a celebrity, and while you buy about half of the populace running away screaming, you know the other half would walk readily right into his bed. There was no need to dally with you.
So why did he?
Why did he pretend to be Patrick, slither between your thighs and—
You clench them shut, your stomach lurching with shame as your cunt pulses at the memory. It isn’t your fault it felt good, you know that, but the shame eats away at you anyway. And Pat—you don’t know how he’d react to the knowledge, and you don’t want to find out. You clench your fists under the knitted blanket Patrick’s mother had given the two of you at your engagement party last year.
You don’t know when you’ll see Bucky next and your stomach flops nervously at the thought of being alone with him after what happened. He’d seemed so nice before, if a little stoic; you don’t understand the shift, can’t make sense of it.
And it certainly doesn’t help that you’re essentially house-bound, unable to drive your car without the go-ahead from Doctor Bradford. You feel trapped, like you’re just waiting for the predator to circle round again, to take another meaty bite out of you.
And what a bite he’d taken.
You can’t find it in yourself to leave your bubble of alternating self-deprecation and loathing for Bucky’s transgression, you’re surprised when Patrick starts getting ready for his night shift. It’s with grim resignation that you watch him step into his nurse’s shoes—the ones you’d teased him about more than once—and pin his tag on his shirt, right onto the pocket, like always.
“Babe? You good? You’ve been quiet all day.” Patrick is shrugging into his scrubs, and his voice rouses you from your anxiety driven fugue. “I can call off if you want.” On one hand, you do, you really do—you want Pat to stay, to help you confront Bucky for what he did to you—
But the larger part of you, the part that echoes with your father’s drilled-in shame, doesn’t even want Patrick to know. You don’t want him thinking of you as damaged goods, the woman who couldn’t even recognize her own fiancé’s voice. His mother already hated you, and you were loathe to give her more reason to mistrust you.
No, better for you to handle this on your own. For once you were glad for the insistent beeping of his pager as they contacted him again—rushing him in, putting a pin back into the grenade of this line of discussion.
“I’m good. Sorry, I’m just tired. I think it’s the pills.” You offer him a watery smile. “You go.” He does, with one last, almost mistrustful look at you over his shoulder.
“Call if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay.”
—
You twiddle your thumbs in the emptiness of your apartment, wondering what you’ll say, what you’ll do when Bucky shows up for guard duty, so much so that when Natasha raps on your door with her knuckles, you almost throw up from nerves.
“I’m headed out,” she says as you pull the door open. “Steve’ll be here shortly, if he’s not here already.” It sends a cool wave of relief through you to know it won’t be Bucky you see next, and you nod gratefully.
“How long, um, do you think we’ll have to do all this?” You ask, steadying yourself against the door. “The whole, um. Bodyguard thing.”
“Probably until the press dies down. Another couple of weeks, at most. We already got a few pings just from presence at the junket.” Her voice is confident, assured. It makes you want to trust her confidence. She turns to leave, but stops, hesitating. “Here, take my number. Just in case. And only for emergencies, understand?” She replies sternly, and you nod quickly.
“Thanks.”
You hobble back to the living room, and begin your best attempt at tidying up with only the use of one hand, a crutch held under the other. When the buzzer rings, you answer with confidence, pressing the intercom button.
“Yes?”
“Hey. It’s me. Can you buzz me in?”
“Oh, Steve. Sure.” You move to press the door button, and the familiar buzz sounds through the speaker. You wait patiently by the door for Steve to get there, tugging open the door as his footfalls approach the landing.
“Hiya, doll.” Bucky grins at you as he rounds the corner. No.You gape at him, unable to speak as you sputter. “Surprised to see me? Steve had something come up, something with the baby—”
You slam the door, sliding the deadbolt across it with trembling fingers. It’s instinct more than anything, but you’re glad for it when his body thuds against the door only a second or two later.
“You need to leave, Bucky,” you say shakily. “Get out of here!”
“Doll, what? Why? Something wrong?” It makes your stomach roll to hear him ask so genuinely, all while the feeling of his hands on your body burns in your memory. He raps on the door hard, and you can hear his heavy breath.
“You… you have to go, Bucky. I know what you did this morning, okay? I… I fucking know!”
There’s silence from the other side of the door, and then a heavy sigh.
“Goddammit.”There’s another knock. “Sweetheart, open the door and let’s talk about it. Come on. Let’s be adults about this.”
There’s a casual kind of coolness in his tone that makes you both angry and terrified, like he’d forseen this outcome—
Planned for it.
“No. You need to leave. You need to leave, a-and I’m going to tell Tony what you did—” This time, it isn’t Bucky’s voice that interrupts you—it’s your own.
“God!”
“What? What is that?”
“F-fuck, I—”
Your face heats as you realize what he’s doing. He’s playing something, a recording—
A recording of this morning.
Before you can think about it, consider what you’re doing, your hands are flying to the locks, practically tearing off the deadbolt.
“Stop, it, shut that off—” The door slams inward, and it narrowly misses pulping you against the wall you as you scramble away. You hit the floor with an oof, your crutches clattering to the ground beside you. “Bucky…”
He tosses you the phone as he steps over the threshold, closing the door behind him. He makes sure to set the lockandthe deadbolt, turning to grin at you over his shoulder.
“For interruptions.” Bucky squats down in front of you, and motions down at the phone in your lap. “Oh, that’s my favorite part.” You don’t want to look down, but it’s like you can’t stop yourself, your eyes drifting to the screen. You watch yourself writhing on your bed, one thick, flesh hand, one metal, holding your thighs apart while Bucky feasts on you.
You toss the phone away as if it’s burned you.
“Why would you do that?” You murmur, hot angry tears gathering in your eyes. He sighs, running a hand through his thick hair.
“I’m sorry, doll. I am. I…” He hesitates, before shrugging, like there’s no point in keeping it from you now. “I thought those pills’d have you under for a little longer.” The apologetic smile he gives you is chilling, instead of relatable. “I just couldn’t wait anymore. I’m not patient, you know?”
“What? What are you—”
“I saved your life.” He states the irrefutable fact with a completely straight face. “Didn’t I?” Bucky reaches forward to brush a lock of hair out of your face, and you go completely rigid at the motion. “You know, there’s some cultures that believe if you save a life, you own it. You know that, doll?”
All of the anger goes out of you at once—and is replaced by ice cold terror.
“I asked you a question sweetheart, please answer me.”
It’s night impossible to swallow the ball of panic in your throat but you manage, somehow.
“Y-yes. I kn-know that.”
“Thank you. In ancient Rome, a savior was regarded as a sort of… second father. But that’s not really what I want. Unless,” Bucky grins cheekily down at you, “you’re into that sort of thing.”
You don’t laugh, and he sighs. “Look, I like you. You’re sweet. And… I can protect you. Patrick can barely keep your heads above water,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “I can’t believe that’s what passes for a man these days.”
The urge to defend your fiancé is tamped down easily by your fear—you know what this man can do.
“I understand it might take some… time. For you to come around. So, I’m prepared to offer you a deal.”
“A deal?” You echo him hoarsely, attempting to blink back tears and failing. “What deal?”
“Well, I’m not going to post your film debut online for the world to see,” he holds up the phone, wiggling it for emphasis. “But I expect certain…allowances in return.” You don’t miss the way his eyes sweep down your body. This time, you can’t hold your tongue.
“What? No! I’m not touching you, I—”
“I get this is new for you doll, and while I’m a… modern man in a lot of ways, I’m not going to tolerate disrespect just because I’m sweet on you.” His eyes go hard. “I could have let you bleed out on the museum floor, after all.” Your breath hitches and time seems to slow as he leans in closer. His large hand is warm on your thigh through your thin leggings.
“Iown you, doll. And depending on which way I spin our beautiful first moment, I can bring down this whole house of cards you’ve built for yourself. This?” He gestures around at your apartment, but you get his larger meaning, “Only lasts as long as I say it does.” He squeezes your thigh, and then reaches up to caress your cheek like a lover, like he hadn’t just delivered a terrifying threat. “So I wouldn’t piss me off. Understand?”
You take a few seconds longer than he’d like to answer, and his lips press into a frown.
“Y-yes, Bucky,” you manage to squeak out around the other words in your throat. “I understand.”
“Good. Let’s get you up, doll. That doesn’t look comfortable at all.” He helps you to your feet with a patience that rivals Pat’s, and you swallow the futile scream that builds when he fixes you with that soft, gentle smile. “Let’s go pick out a movie, or something. We’ve got all night.”
—
Bucky is stifling.
He won’t give you a moment’s peace; standing practically hip to hip with you in the kitchen as you microwave the popcorn, standing over your shoulder as you return texts from your sister that you’d been ignoring—like he was trying to tacitly remind you of his imagined claim on your body, on your soul.
But what did it matter, imagined or not, if he had the power to enforce it?
The last thing you want is for Patrick to see that video, to see the absolute worst of you—for the world to see it. It doesn’t matter now that you’d been an unwilling participant, and if not unwilling then certainly unknowing—no one will believe it, not when they watch you writhing under his touch.
You barely do.
You sit stiffly, holding onto the popcorn in a white-knuckled grip. His metal arm falls around you, and he squeezes you affectionately.
“See?” He says, nuzzling against your throat. Your own breath hitches—both because it’s strangely natural,like the affection is real, and because you’re disgusted with yourself for considering whatever twisted thing he’d built up in his own head as valid for even a second. “Doesn’t have to be so bad.”
What choice do I have?
Until you can get help, tell someone—anyone—you’re stuck, completely at his mercy. You hadn’t been able to understand his breach of trust, not until he’d explained himself, and everything had clicked into place with horrible clarity. His overt overprotectiveness, the way he’d begun methodically inserting himself into your life. Even now, he traces patterns on the exposed skin of your arm, the cool metal leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“Feel like you’re too far away, doll,” he drawls, and reluctantly you look up at him. He pats the thickest part of his thigh with a heavy hand. “Want you right here, close to me.” Your stomach lurches at his request. Sitting next to him is the most you can manage, you don’t want anything else. The movie drones on in the background as you stare at one another, and you know you don’t have long before Bucky’s patience runs out.
“I-I—” You can’t swallow the lump in your throat so you try to speak around it. “Bucky, I don’t—”
“You’re nervous. I get that,” he cuts you off, running his hands up and down your sides in smooth gentle movements, like he’s trying to calm a panicked animal. You suppose you are—you’re terrified, your heart pounding as Bucky’s fingers sink into the meat of your hips. You let out a shrill squeak as he lifts you, settling you across his thigh.
“But you don’t have to be, not with me.” Hot tears, indignant tears, well in your eyes, and you try not to let them fall. Bucky’s breath is hot against the back of your neck. “I’m going to take good care of you.” You know his promise is supposed to inspire confidence, but the only thing you feel is the slow creep of dread, sinking into everything.
This is really happening.
You want to wake up from this, but there isno waking from it—Bucky’s hands are warm as they massage you through the thin fabric of your leggings, his pleased sighs ringing in your ear as he familiarizes himself with your body. There’s no relaxing either, your body taut as a tightrope perched on his knee. To any onlooker, you know this looks like a date-night—a movie, snacks, two people cuddled close—but the pounding of your heart, the tremor in your hands, you can’t hide those. Someone onscreen laughs, and Bucky chuckles too, the sound vibrating against your back.
“You feel tense, sweetheart,” He murmurs, and you wince as he drags his lips down the exposed skin at your shoulder until he meets cloth. “I can help.” His hungry hands come to rest on your thighs, his thumbs massaging circles into the taut muscle. You try to snap your thighs shut, wiggle off of his lap, but Bucky is stronger than you are—by far. It doesn’t even seem like it taxes him in the least to keep you seated as he locks an arm around your belly, anchoring you to him.
“Shh, shh,” he smooths his other hand over your hair. “You’ll feel so much better, doll, I know it.” Fresh horror blooms in you as he strokes along your inner thigh with light fingers, mumbling his appreciation for you in a low, reverent voice.
“So soft…” You can feel the thick length of his cock pressing up between the cheeks of your ass, and you choke on your horrified gasp. “See how hard you got me, sweetheart? S’all for you.” Your mouth opens, and you inhale a breath to scream—
Bucky’s metal hand closes around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to limit your air.
“Oh, baby. I wouldn’t.” His other hand doesn’t stop moving, stroking the skin of your belly under your t-shirt. “You think I won’t fuck you if your neighbors come watch?” The blood curdles in your veins at his frankness. “I don’t mind if the whole world watches you cum on my face, sweetheart—and believe me, it’s a pretty sight. In fact, I think that might make this a whole lot easier, don’t you? If everyone knows, then—”
“Please,” you croak, tugging ineffectually at his arm. He releases his hold on your throat, and you gasp and cough as the air floods back into your lungs. You don’t want Patrick to know, to see. Without Pat, you’d be alone, adrift in the world. He’d made you feel like you could do more than just be your father’s replacement for your mother, to take care of him until he was six feet in the ground. Like you owed it to her memory to be something—like you owed it to yourself.
Bucky could have everything else—but he can’t have that.
He kisses the skin at the back of your throat, his beard rasping against your skin.
“Let’s not make this difficult, doll. Either way you play this, I get what I’m owed.”
“No one’s owed anything,” you croak, wriggling in his lap. Bucky stills you with a smart tap to your thigh. “That’s not how the world works.”
“Oh?” He says, as if he’s amused by your reasoning, amused enough to let your sass slide. “I’ll remember that when folks come to collect. Funny,” he hums as his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your leggings, playing at the skin beneath them before he tugs them harshly down. “how no one’s owed, but someone always come to collect.” There’s a low laugh as he grazes the skin of your vulva.
“No panties, doll? And I thought you weren’t expecting me.” He parts your lips with two fingers, and you’re as embarrassed as he is pleased when he finds your folds damp. You huff through your clenched teeth as Bucky slowly circles your clit with one finger while he grinds his cock against you. You’re overwhelmed with him—the woodsy scent of his cologne in your nostrils, his hands on you, in you. It’s enough to make your head spin.
Which it does, unwitting pleasure winding up your spine as you stare dizzily at the ceiling. You try everything; shutting your eyes to try and keep him out, picturing Patrick, trying to remember the vows you were still drafting up for the wedding—but none of it works. Bucky’s face swims in the darkness behind your closed eyes as his fingers dance over your bud, and his breath in your ear wipes clean the memory of your future promises.
The noise as his fingers slide in and out of you, aided by your body’s own slick is deafening. You hate your own muted moans as Bucky’s teeth drag along your shoulder blade, uncaring of whether he leaves a mark or not. The sound of his zipper lowering makes you choke back a sob, and you gasp softly at the feel of his bare cock against your ass.
“I saw, you know,” he grunts as he ruts against you. “Fucking pathetic, couldn’t even let you get off first.” Bucky lets out a low, guttural laugh when your pussy clenches around him, fresh wetness coating his fingers. “Mmm, feels good, doesn’t it, doll?” You clench around him. “Real man would have taken care of you—that’s why I had to step in and do it.” Bucky doesn’t let up, and you whine and writhe against him.
Your orgasm hits you like a train and you arch against his knee, your cunt throbbing as your release coats his fingers thick and sticky. You can feel Bucky moving against you, your pleasure—your shame—leaking back to coat his cock. Limp and wrung out from the force of it, you shudder. Maybe it’s cruel irony that Pat had never made you feel quite like this, that this man who you you undeniably hate can play your body like a fine instrument.
His hands rise to cup your breasts, flicking at your nipples through your bralette. “If I didn’t want to be in your pussy so bad, I’d give this sweet ass of yours a try,” Bucky says as his the head of his cock slides lewdly against your puckered entrance. You push ineffectively at his metal hand as he lifts your hips, positioning his cock underneath your twitching cunt.
“Bucky, Bucky no—”
“Stopwhining, doll,” his words end in a sigh as his cock begins to press up into you, pushing against the tightness of your entrance until it pops inside. He groans, huffing out an appreciative breath. “You’re like velvet inside, you know that?” He’s so thick, it’s like there’s not enough room inside of you for all of him, but he pushes in anyway.
You squeak as he fills you, his jeans rubbing uncomfortably against your bare thighs. Bucky kneads your hip with one hand and rocks against you slow, but even his short thrusts steal the air from your lungs. Even the sting of his cock stretching you open winds with the pleasure eating away at every conscious thought that manages to break through the static in your brain.
“God, you’re fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart,” he underscores the complement with another muffled curse. “Could stay in you all goddamned day.” He doesn’t fuck you like Pat does, with quiet efficiency, mindful of how long he’s taking—Bucky fucks you like it’s all he wants to do. His strokes are slow, leisurely, and you sob at the slow drag of him against your walls.
Bucky bounces you on his lap, and your breath gurgles in your throat. “F-full…” You don’t even realize you’ve spoken until Bucky’s black-honey laugh meets your ear.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, doll?” He kneads your breasts with one greedy hand while the other tugs your legs apart, splaying you open lewdly across his thighs. Bucky sinks in with a loud squelch that makes you keen. Distantly, you’re aware of the slapping of flesh, the squeal of the springs in you and Pat’s ancient couch as Bucky lays into you with languid heavy thrusts.
“Nice, fat cock digging you out—tell me baby, that miserable excuse for a man ever make you feel this good?” When you don’t answer immediately, Bucky’s hips snap into yours hard, the head of his cock punching against your cervix. You wail, babbling.
“N-no, no Bucky!” You wish that the guilt that flares up in you at your forced honesty is enough to quell the tide of pleasure cresting over you. You hate him—but your body still responds. “Oh, oh God—”
Pleasure sears the synapses in your brain, fireworks exploding behind your unseeing eyes as you gape up at your ceiling. Bucky fucks you through it, abandoning his slow, deep pace for quick, sharp thrusts.
“Fuck, m’gonna fill you up, doll, want you leakin’ with me for days—”He growls low in his throat, strained breaths puffing against your ear as sticky warmth floods you, his cock jerking against your walls. The both of you sit there, panting as you try to piece everything back together.
Bucky strokes the side of your face, before pressing a kiss into your hair.
“See, doll?” He says with a dry laugh. “Not so bad.”
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Summary:The cottage has been in your family for many years, but your return has caught the interest of more than just the wildlife.
Words:3.5k
Warnings: Dubious Nature, Dark Themes, Fae Trickery, Soft!Dark!Fae!Bucky
Strange things started happening when you inherited the little cottage your family owned. It was originally your grandfather’s, and your parents had used it as a summer home when you were growing up.
But the cottage was always on the back burner. Up until recently, you were completely happy with your little suburban life. You liked the noise and the quick pace, and for a long time, you let the cottage fall to the wayside.
When you finally took the time to visit, tending to the cottage was only supposed to be a part-time job, but it surprised you. You had quickly fallen in love with its simplicity. It reminded you of the times you had been brought there when you were little.
The strange things first started when a stranded fawn happened upon the outskirts of the property. It was just a babe, helpless to the elements, and the mother was nowhere to be found. Instead of turning a blind eye you fed and nurtured it and sheltered it for the night. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t just leave it out there all alone.
By the time the sun rose the next morning the fawn was gone. You didn’t expect it to stay, but it disappeared without a trace. As you were cleaning up the nest of blankets and rags you put together you found a stone. It was small and opaque and perfectly smooth, and you marveled at it as you crouched down into the dirt.
The fawn wouldn’t have brought this to you. Your careful fingers plucked the stone from the nest, and you turned it over in your hand.
It was moonstone.
It was a stone of protection. A stone for lovers.
But how did you know that? You paused with a careful breath, mechanically returning it to the spot you found it. It wasn’t natural. Cautious eyes scanned the line of the cottage out to where the property backed up to the trees. You weren’t as alone as you thought.
The stone was a gift.
It was one you could not accept. One that you would not accept.
You weren’t typically superstitious in the city, but with this place, you held it with high regard. Call it your father’s intuition or your mother’s careful nature guiding you, but you were not going to actively seek out any trouble in these woods.
Without sparing another glance at the stone or the woods you hurried inside. A nagging feeling in the back of your mind told you that there was work to be done.
The early rays of the afternoon sun eventually bled into a long, orange sunset against the west side of the cottage. The delicate curtains were drawn tight, and the house was locked up.
You didn’t stoke the hearth that night.
The only telltale sign of life from the cottage was that you left a small basket on the edge of your porch covered in a pleated red cloth. You had used up the last of your apples to bake something sweet. The buttered pie was left on your porch to extend an olive branch. All you wanted was peace and never meant to disturb the unseen creatures of the woods.
Sleep was hard to come by. Every rustle in the trees and flap of wings made you jump, and you eventually took to burrowing in a number of heavy quilts to block out the noise.
You felt like you were going to be sick, that the creatures outside would tear the doors off the hinges and drag you into the night. Your parents used to talk about the unseen forces that lived in the forest, but this was your first encounter with them. You didn’t have any idea of what to expect and were only armed with the knowledge that the forest folk had a sweet tooth.
The night dragged on and try as you might, your thoughts kept drifting back to the moonstone. You had never before grabbed the attention of the unseen, and you so desperately wanted to be swallowed up by the dirt.
You just wanted them to take the pie. You wanted them to take it and leave you in peace.
The morning met you with a warm swell, even without the heat of the fire. With sleepy eyes, you knew it was time to face the music.
The porch was bathed in a yellow glow as you unlocked the door and stepped into the sun, and the basket was exactly where you left it. Upon closer inspection, you noticed the pie was gone.
With a lofty exhale you hurried down to the stack of blankets you had left the day before. Tossing aside your fears you rounded the side of the cottage. The moonstone was also gone.
You couldn’t contain your sigh of relief. It was a good sign.
The following days passed without fuss, and you slowly fell back into your routine with a pollyanna heart. You were at peace with the woods once more.
You read books and baked bread and tried your hand at chopping wood. You sang songs from your youth and wrote and were content. If only your parents could see you now. They would be so proud of how brave you were, of how smart you were. That was why you moved out here, after all.
In a way, it was one last attempt to get close to them.
But no amount of city living could have prepared you for the overwhelming energy of the woods. Was it always this way? You couldn’t remember. You thought that it would be cold and lifeless and quiet, but it was the opposite. Everything was alive and watching. The birds sang and plants grew quickly, and everything was rich with life.
You would have thought it disturbing if not for the overflow of comfort that tended to wash over you when you felt all alone. Maybe it was your dad looking after you, even now. Maybe your mother was helping you with the gardening and the foraging. It was a soft reminder of them.
One afternoon when the wind was particularly strong the cries of baby birds could be heard throughout the forest. They must have fallen from their nest. You had been weaving together stretches of cloth in an attempt to repurpose the old material but were pulled from your work when the crying didn’t stop.
Your heart lurched in your chest. You were going to help them.
The nest had been blown from a high branch in one of the pine trees and had been overturned at the bottom of the trunk. You turned over the nest with caution, only to find three baby robins cooing and crying at the disturbance.
You frowned. The mother was nowhere to be found. The baby birds must have been scared half to death.
You were careful not to disrupt the nest and scooped the hatchlings up in your work apron as well as the nest, setting them down altogether on a sturdier branch. It was a branch at eye level, careful to keep the babes from the danger of the forest floor. You left your apron there for extra protection and warmth, and you came back not long after with berries for the hatchlings.
It was the least you could do. One of the biggest differences in city living was just how quickly you got the gratification of getting a job done. Making appointments over the phone, sending important emails, and having dinner delivered to your door. It was so fast in some ways.
At the cottage, everything took extra effort, and for a small moment, you felt that similar rush. It was gratifying.
It was all in a day’s work to help, and you were no stranger to simple comforts. Your parents had raised you here, just like this. It was quaint. It was just as rewarding.
Just the same as before, you checked up on the hatchlings the next morning before tending to the rest of the cottage.
The apron was still there, lodged into the tree branch with the nest but upon closer inspection, the babes were gone. There were no birds nor berries or feathers, and instead, the stem of a flower was carefully tucked into the nest. It was no ordinary flower, no. You were familiar with the kind. Dicentra.
Bleeding hearts.
The pink strand of flowers was a stark contrast to its surroundings. You knew the plant well enough to know that they grew only on the far side of the forest. It was farther than you had traveled in a long time.
A shiver spiraled down to your stomach and your eyes scanned the tree line once more. This time you didn’t even dare to touch the gift left for you.
Again, you turned in early for the night. This time you left half a loaf of bread with a berry jam and a jar of honey in the basket.
It all felt like a delicate dance.
The night was cold, much colder than the last time you decided to let the fire rest. The quilts helped to keep you warm, but your body was overcome with shivers, nonetheless. This time it came in the form of listening to howls outside the front door.
Something was out there. You felt it. You knew it deep in your bones.
You could almost hear something beyond the howling, something softer. It was the quiet hum of wind chimes, but each time you thought you heard it the sound faded into the night. And then you remembered; you didn’t have wind chimes.
Sleep claimed you faster this time, almost suddenly. You couldn’t have prepared for it, and your dreams were extravagant.
The dream had been filled with sweet songs and comfort, and then it dissolved into the darkness of the woods.
And then you were barefoot, stepping away from the cottage onto a bloody patch of dirt and grass. Your dream led you down to the spot where you first tended to the fawn, patches of blood and fur marring the nest of blankets you had made. Your legs were propelling you away before you could get another good look, and when you peered ahead a different trail led you to bloodied feathers and the broken remnants of the bird’s nest.
It was a disaster. It was as if a fox had gotten into the henhouse.
Tossing and turning, you were suddenly hot. The chill in your veins was replaced with a hot ache, feeling it in your belly and down to your toes, until you entirely forgot about the carnage you walked through.
Your nerve endings were on fire. You knew you were dreaming. You needed to wake up.
The blood had faded away into warm daylight, but there was no solace. You weren’t alone. There was a snap of a twig on your left.
You needed to wake up. Now.
A pair of dark eyes, almost glowing against the trees had found you. You turned, running blindly into the brush, but it was only getting closer. You could hear whatever was behind you catching up. You could feel its hot breath on the back of your neck. You tried to scream.
Wake. Up.
With a jolt you startled up, taking a moment to realize you were still in your bed. The cottage was locked up tight. You were safe.
A broken cry had gotten stuck in your throat as you held a hand to your chest. You were overwhelmed and terrified.
It was still early, well before sunrise, but there was no way you were going back to bed. Not after that.
Never, and you swore neverhad you felt such dread. And you had never once felt that way in the cottage. What once housed feelings of comfort and peace were twisted into such horrific dread.
A terrible realization dawned on you. You were all alone in the middle of nowhere.
You thrashed the blankets off your body, suddenly too heavy against your skin. You felt trapped. The weight of it all was too much, even if the rest of the cottage had only gotten colder throughout the night.
Perhaps you could build a fire. Maybe you would take a hot bath to distract yourself. Damn the fear of the outside; you were convinced your dreams were the biggest threat to your safety.
Your body was flushed, rattled from the aftershocks of the nightmare. With a pant you let your body collapse against the pillows, letting your arm cradle behind it for extra support before you froze.
But there was something there, under your pillow. Sitting up in alarm you tossed your pillow to the ground.
No.
There, carefully placed under your pillow, were the moonstone and the bleeding hearts.
No.
“You are going to freeze, doll.”
Your eyes snapped towards the direction of the voice. There, leaning against the fireplace a distinct figure hugged the shadows. Tall and imposing, the shadow dwarfed the room. Strong shoulders and dark hair drew your attention first. The voice was lustrous and masculine, making you blink twice before listening to the gravity of his words.
You could feel the temperature of the room drop. The figure wasn’t lying. It was much colder now, and a puff of cold air was pulled from you when you exhaled. You reached for a blanket almost mechanically.
When you didn’t respond you watched as the figure crossed one leg over the other in the dark. Your eyes had adapted as best they could, but with the curtains closed and the fire snuffed out your vision was still limited.
“Let me help.” The figure offered with a hum.
As if by magic the fire roared to life at his words. The room was illuminated in warmth and light, and you held a hand up as your eyes squinted shut.
This didn’t make any sense. This couldn’t be happening.
Your body was tense, and once your eyes adjusted to the light you could get a good look at the figure, at the man. His skin was pale against a dark head of hair and thick eyebrows looked curiously at you behind bright, blinding eyes. They were blue as the spring water. You couldn’t deny that there was a sharp edge to them. All of his features were striking, from the curve of his lips and the stubble along his jaw to his taught arms and thick legs.
His clothes were dark, maybe blue or black, but you couldn’t be sure. He was a shadow in the night.
A palpable concern ran through you.
Against the firelight, you couldn’t deny a glowing tint in his eyes. It was too similar to the eyes in your dreams.
He was no man at all.
Your parents could have never warned you about this.
“Did you not like my gifts?” You dared to ask, your heart beating heavily in your chest.
A smirk curled at his lips. The man pushed off the wall, towering over you.
“Oh, I lovedthem.” He emphasized with a hum. This time he stepped forward, and you watched with careful eyes. Your confusion must have been clear as day. His tone was jovial, almost teasing. “But I thought you would have liked mine a little more. I will have to try harder.”
You were so overwhelmed that you missed his last sentence altogether.
“I was taught to not accept anything from the forest.” You stuttered out with an air of innocence. And obviously,ignorance.
You couldn’t understand him, how he liked your gifts but wouldn’t leave you alone. Your parents’ worries had swarmed in your mind. All of your careful preparation was in vain.
The man looked at you, confident that you knew that he knew exactly what you were thinking. Dark hair fell in his face, and he tilted his head.
“I wonder why that would be?” He speculated with a formidable grin. Those blue eyes pulled you back, filled with mirth and mystery. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Goosebumps pricked at your arms and for a moment you were at a loss for words.
You couldn’t remember.
There must have been a reason why you didn’t take his gifts. Why would your parents tell you not to accept anything from the forest? Your head felt heavy.
“I -” You paused, confusion settling into your features. “I don’t know.”
At your admission, the man’s grin only widened. His hand moved up and under his chin. His cunning voice swelled around you, and he stalked forward with an animalistic prowl.
“But you did like my gifts?”
The softness of his question made it sound like it wasn’t a question at all. You hummed out a breath before looking up at him.
“I did.”
You figured there would be no trouble in playing along.
His lips curled up into a smirk, showing off white teeth against the light of the fire. His eyes were teasing again, clever, and full of mischief.
“Then what do you say?” He asked, almost condescendingly. “You’re sweet. You’re kind. You must have been taught your manners.” He urged the words out of you, his startling eyes locked on yours.
The man was hauntingly beautiful.
You couldn’t look away if you wanted to. You…you weren’t sure if you wanted to.
“Thank you for the gifts.”
The whisper was so faint that it faded off before you realized it was you that spoke. Your head was foggy, slowly realizing the trap that you were falling into. It was almost as if you could hear him when he didn’t even speak.
That wasn’t so hard, was it?
He had stolen away at your senses with a clever wink.
All of a sudden, your parents’ warnings were swimming through your mind.
“It is dangerous in these woods. Don’t accept anything from the forest. The forest folk will twist your intentions. They are clever and powerful.”
“They can trap you in the forest and make you lose yourself.”
“Don’t give them your name. Don’t accept their trinkets, and don’t thank them for their kindness.”
What was happening to you? Your hands slumped forward against your thighs, and you could hardly hold your head up. A wave of nausea made you steel yourself to the bed frame.
“Who - who are you?” Your tongue was heavy against your teeth, and your breathing was labored. Your body was shutting down against your will.
Yours. I am yours.
His words pulsated against your temples. He was shushing you now, gently to calm you, taking a step closer to the bed.
“Doll, you are taking care of everything out here. This cottage is a treasure, but who is taking care of you?”
A shiver ran down your back. Your mind was flooded with images of the moonstone and the flowers, and how you helped the fawn and the hatchings. Then it shifted back to the tremors in your dreams.
You watched helplessly as the man’s blue eyes completely darkened, a golden ring shining around his irises. It was him all along. He was watching you the whole time.
You couldn’t find your voice, a startling noise catching in your throat. You couldn’t speak. Trying to back up against the wall your limbs were heavy.
You couldn’t move.
Physically immobilized, it was as if he had all control. How was this possible?
He was closer now and you could smell the grass and the salt and the rain against his skin. He crouched down in front of you, eye level with you, sitting on the bed. His cool breath fanned against your face and with a gentle hand, he brushed a thumb against your bottom lip.
Soft lips curled into a sinister grin, showing off a set of sharp, white teeth. With as much strength as you could muster you looked back up into his eyes. The blue in his eyes was completely gone, swallowed by dark, glowing pupils.
It was stunning and terrifying all in the same breath. It wasn’t human.
Closer still he leaned in, moving his thumb down to your jaw. The ghost of his lips was against your own before he claimed his prize and your rapture.
His kiss was poisonous. It was earthy and powerful and it shifted into something saccharinely sweet. You were helpless to it, melting against him as his tongue lapped at your own.
A breathless groan passed from his lips and settled against your skin. He was all-encompassing.
Against your better judgment, your arms were pulled up from your thighs. Like a puppeteer was commanding the strings, one hand settled against his chest and the other was curled around his shoulder for support.
It was what he wanted.
With newfound strength, you held on to him with all of your might as he kissed you again. This one was exploratory, lingering from the corner of your lips to the apple of your cheeks and down your jaw. Your body was buzzing like a lightning strike.
It was him. All of the heat and power were emanating from him.
A dark fog swirled in your mind, fully possessed by the man that held you close. If you could only look back and see yourself, you would have seen how your eyes had gotten dark, mimicking his own. His free arm rested along your lower back, sharp nails digging against your skin. There was no escape.
You could hardly think as the soft rumble of his voice settled over you.
“Your heart is the softest place on earth. Let me take care of it.”
Warnings: *Trigger* Forced Drug use, discussion of drug overdose, suicide, & miscarriage, violence, language.
Summary: An undercover operation playing Bucky Barnes’ wife is a dream come true. Playing house in the suburbs while trying to take down a drug ring brings you and Bucky closer but a nosy neighbor causes trouble in paradise.
Updates and taglist: Updates for series will be made on Wednesdays and Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction for update notifications. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support! A/N: Divider by @whimsicalrogers
“Nobody needs to die, Melissa. If it’s me, I’ll… I’ll leave. You’ll never hear from me again.” You say, hoping to appease the angry woman in front of you.
“No! No, you aren’t leaving. You’re mine. I love you.” Frank growls before turning to Melissa “It’s been eight years. Haven’t I paid enough? Can’t I have something for myself?”
“No. You’ll never have paid the debt you owe. You’re mine. Forever. And I don’t like competition.” Melissa stares past Frank to you, still pointing the gun.
Deciding to stall you look between the two, “What debt? What is she talking about, Frank?”
“There was a time when we were in love.” Melissa’s words are mocking. “Because I was stupid enough to believe in it. To think he was actually capable of it.”
A/n: pinch of angst in the beginning, fluff to finish it off, this chapter is the one thats really going to kick off the story, and where I plan on going with it the next few chapters, the further I go in the next chapters will more or less be able to give me an idea of how many chapters we’re looking at. As always I hope you enjoy and happy Readings Angels.
Your fingers danced along the granite stone, the cooled wind picking up around you as you knelt to the grass. Your fingers traced your fathers named engraved into the stone.
“He’s resting now sweetheart, he’s resting and watching over us,” your mother murmured softly her fingers resting on your shoulder.
“I still want to help ma,” you replied looking up at her through watery eyes, “I want to be able to help you retire, I want you to be stress free, I don’t want you to have to worry about working, I know you blame yourself for not being there, and I know his loss weighs heavier on your heart.”
Your mother gave you a tired smile, her hand squeezing your shoulder softly, “as much as I blame myself I know your father didn’t want that, he would have wanted it to be the way it was, he didn’t want us struggling, he didn’t want you to worry.”
“Some good that did,” you muttered looking away from her and back to the granite stone.
It had been two weeks since you lost your father and between planning a funeral and making sure his things were packaged away nicely so your mother wouldn’t cry herself sick, you had had no time to find that job you and your mother had spoken of the night your father passed.
It was a bitter sweet goodbye for the two of you, your mother taking the most hurt as she blamed herself for not being there. She mourned her first love, her only love.
Your mothers hand squeezed your shoulder once more, “I’ll help you to start look sweetheart,” she spoke after a brief silence, “but I can’t exactly give up the Barnes residence till Bucky has been fully given the go to start working directly for his father.”
Your eyes shot up to hers brows furrowed, “but the day that dad passed you said Bucky was being sworn in, was taking over for George.”
Your mother nodded a small smile tugging at her lips, “he was sworn in that night, but you know how the Barnes are, more specifically George, always has to go all out for his boy, now c’mon,” she murmured, “get up or you’ll ruin your dress further, George will be expecting us soon.”
A puff of air left your lips as you bunched your dress up, fingers catching the hem as you pushed to your feet. Letting the silk dress slip from your hand you brought your fingers to your lips before bringing them back down to the stone, “we’ll come visit you real soon pa,” you replied softly.
You looked to your mother, who took your hand in hers, “c’mon sweetheart let’s get going before George comes and finds us personally.”
Warnings:*Trigger* Discussion of Attempted assault, mutual pining, fluff, language, some minor violence, a little angst.
Summary: An undercover operation playing Bucky Barnes’ wife is a dream come true. Playing house in the suburbs while trying to take down a drug ring brings you and Bucky closer but a nosy neighbor causes trouble in paradise.
Frank’s room was empty the next morning and his suitcase sat next to the front door. When you and Bucky entered the kitchen you found him sitting on the opposite side of the table and you think it’s smart that he put an obstacle between himself and Bucky. You put a hand on Bucky’s arm to keep him from lunging. Frank looks up with an unreadable expression marred by a swollen black eye. His hands are wrapped around his mug of coffee so tightly his knuckles are white.
“From the state of my eye I’m assuming I did something very stupid for Bucky to punch me. I don’t remember anything but I am so sorry for whatever it is I did.” Frank says quietly.
“Oh, I didn’t punch you. It’d be much worse if I did.” Bucky says coldly.
Warnings: bit of possessive, jealous, bucky, smut 18+ (oral, fingering), ring kink.
A/n: T’was supposed to be a smutty drabble, but its definitely a smutty little one shot. Please read the warnings y’all this is 18+ there is smut here. Dedicating this smutty piece to my angel of all angels and the one who lives in my brain @lookiamtrying. She sends me one gif, ONE of Sebs hands with rings on it and uff this happened. Happy Readings Angels, and remember wrap it before you tap it!
Bucky wasn’t a possessive man by any means, he liked to give his girl the freedom she deserved, let her roam around the club freely, but he had to draw a line somewhere. And he was drawing the line at the burly man sizing you up at the bar.
He didn’t like to have to put people in their places, to have to show them where they belonged. He liked to keep his job and his girl apart from one another, two different worlds not meant to mix. His job was hard, it was mean, it was unforgiving and you, you reminded him of the kinder things in life.
It seems you liked to see him like this though, liked to see him sizing up other men, liked to have him grip you roughly as he pulled you through the crowds, Steve and Sam tending to the man at the bar.
A/n: There has been a few years time skip between the prelude and this part, but reader is still fairly young so bear that in mind please, the next chapter will also have a big time skip with reader being much older. I will try and explain it as well when we come to it. Anywho fell behind a day but we are officially back at work and training drained me yesterday BUT we are getting back on track hopefully with two updates today. Hope you all enjoy this little piece, and hopefully i can finish my two other WIPs this week or next week so that I can focus solely on Maidens Tale, with that being said, our next update for this series might not come as quick as i really want to finish 365 and baby its cold outside. THAT MEANS WE ARE EXTENDING MOB MONTH WELL INTO FEBRUARY!
Summary:Growing up a Stark is a lot easier when no one knows you’re a Stark — except you and Tony Stark. You fought your way to the top of your field and earned your spot as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist with the Avengers. You sign the same NDA and employment clauses as everyone else, which also prohibits any inter-departmental relationships. Some people have managed to keep their secrets from their supervisors; unfortunately for you, your boss is your father. And your secret? Bucky Barnes.
Featuring:Bucky Barnes x Stark!reader, dad!Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Happy Hogan, OC friends, various Marvel characters
Warnings: language throughout, smut in various chapters, deception, blackmail, canon-level violence (* denotes chapter with smut)
Note:18+ only, don’t read if you shouldn’t or I’ll tell your mom
