➳summary: When your best friends Peter, MJ, and Ned drag you along to a concert, you never expected to fall head over heels with the band, more so the drummer. Wild and erotic, Bucky Barnes is a rich rock star who gets everything handed to him. Between the money, fame, and platinum records, he has a nasty reputation. But when an innocent girl like you comes along, he can’t stay away.
➳pairing: rockstar!Bucky Barnes x College!Reader
➳warnings: features heavy angst, drug abuse, drinking, partying, cheating
➳summary: When your best friends Peter, MJ, and Ned drag you along to a concert, you never expected to fall head over heels with the band, more so the drummer. Wild and erotic, Bucky Barnes is a rich rock star who gets everything handed to him. Between the money, fame, and platinum records, he has a nasty reputation. But when an innocent girl like you comes along, he can’t stay away.
➳pairing: rockstar!Bucky Barnes x College!Reader
➳warnings: features heavy angst, drug abuse, drinking, partying, cheating
“Bucky?” You called his name groggily as you felt him slip underneath the sheets of the California king-sized bed.
“Shh,”Bucky shushed you and you closed your eyes, snuggling back into the warmth that the blankets provided. The bed began to dip and curve, soon a pair of strong tattooed hands were wrapping around your thighs and pushing them apart. Before you could recognize what was happening, a pair of warm lips started to press kisses to the innermost parts of your thighs, bringing you to gasp.
That was when you realized what had happened. You and Bucky had stayed up practically all night, playing catch-up. It had been officially a week since he left rehab and his entire demeanor had shifted. He was a completely different person; a better man. He was a joy to be around and the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off one another.
Last night was a blur.Of course, no alcohol or drugs had been intermixed, but it was the simple high you two felt off each other. Bucky and you were camped out in his built-in studio, where he attempted to teach you how to play drums. What surprised him the most was the fact that you could play piano and sing, which started turning the creative gears in his mind.
One thing led to another, and a few take-out boxes later, the two of you were settled in a bath filled with warm water and luxury bubbles. You were seated in front of each other, your hands rested on his thighs while he used his thumbs to stroke the length of your hips.
“Thank you for staying,” Bucky whispered to you as you focused on his face.
You giggled, leaning forward to brush your lips across his. Soon, he was pulling you into his lap, warm water sloshing around your naked bodies. He savored every moment he had with you, understanding that life was soshort, that he had to live it to every advantage. He wanted to experience every single high and low with you, no matter what they may be.
“Bucky, I’m proud of you. I can’t ever say it enough.” You smiled, kissing him passionately. When the two of you finally emerged from the bath, you changed into one of his shirts and a pair of underwear, both of you hopping into bed together. You were digging into a container of gelato together, deciding to share the spoon.
You spoonfed him a mouthful of the cold delicacy, watching as Bucky’s eyes rolled at the taste. “You know, without being doped up all the time… I think my senses got stronger? Everything tastes and smells better,” He laughed, kissing you on the cheek with a pair of cold lips.
You giggled loudly as Bucky took the spoon away from you so he could feed you. When you purposely made him miss your mouth and allowed the cold dessert to drip down the corner of your mouth, Bucky’s eyes widened.
“Baby girl,” He whispered huskily.
You smiled, licking your lips. The light in Bucky’s head suddenly turned green and he pounced on you, removing the container of gelato from your hands and throwing the spoon into it. Soon, the drummer had you pinned beneath him as he flicked his tongue over the running gelato, your insides churning. A soft moan ricocheted through the air as Bucky pinned your hands above your head while he kissed your neck, paying close attention to every inch of your exposed neck.
Your hips bucked upwards to meet his, Bucky growling in response. Soon, he was stripping you from his shirt that donned your body, his hands exploring your flesh until you were given over to the heightened pleasure that only Bucky could offer in the moonlight.
Now? You were stirring awake this morning, feeling as his tongue licked a surprising stripe against your heat. A gasp fell from your mouth as you immediately reached to your sides to clutch the sheets. Bucky hummed, sending pleasurable vibrations through your core that somehow managed to shimmy up your spine.
“Oh, Bucky!” You groaned heavily as his lips wrapped around your sensitive bundle of nerves, giving it a delicate suck. He threw your legs over his shoulders and buried his face in between your legs, the light burn of his stubble brushing across your core bringing you to echo a scream.
Bucky used your words as a means to pinpoint. Using his ringed fingers, he pushed two of them into your spongy walls, your insides capturing him immediately. Your head lowered to rest on his head where you curled your fingers around the strands of hair and tugged, earning a delighted groan from your lover’s mouth as he licked into your folds while scissoring his fingers.
Your breaths were coming out in pants as Bucky pushed you over the edge, his name being screamed relentlessly into the air of your shared bedroom. He gripped his hands around your thighs and coaxed a few orgasms out of you, bringing you to the point of overstimulation. You were nearly having to push yourself away from his mouth, but he could see the intense pleasure he brought over you, and it only made him press harder.
He came off your heat with an audible pop before he crawled up the length of your body. Lowering his head, the strands of his jet-black hair tickled your cheeks as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down. Bucky kissed you long and slow, his tongue touching yours for a passionate exchange. You groaned sweetly into his mouth as you tasted your release which coated his tongue, his large palm slipping underneath your back.
Bucky flipped the two of you over so you were straddling his waist, his hand tangling through your hair as he kept you close. Your hips rolled into his, a sticky mess between your legs where his mouth and fingers once were. He felt it on his abdomen and it made him smile wickedly.
“Good morning,” Bucky winked, his blue orbs vibrant and full of life.
“Good morning,” You whispered, lowering your head to his chest. You laid on top of him, your exposed skin pressed together as you hummed while he drew circles into your backside. Bucky held you close as his eyes looked out the large window of his bedroom, watching as the light and view of the ocean met his eyes.
“So, I have a surprise for us…” Bucky announced after silence brewed. Your eyebrows pinched together as you lifted your head.
“A surprise?” You laughed.
Bucky nodded. “We’re getting on a plane tomorrow morning,” He informed you, causing your eyes to widen.
“Tomorrow?!”You exclaimed. Bucky smiled and nodded again.
“It’s a part of my redemption plan,” He breathed out. You looked at him questionably.
“Redemption plan?” You repeated.
Bucky laughed, twirling his fingers across your warm skin. “I think before you start back up with classes, we just need a vacation for ourselves. And since the tour isn’t happening anymore, my time slot has been freed.” He explained.
“Where are we going?” You asked with a hint of excitement lacing your voice. Bucky rolled his eyes playfully and kissed your forehead.
“It’s not a surprise if I tell you!” He reminded you.
“But I hate surprises!” You shot back.
Bucky shook his head. “You’ll be fine until tomorrow morning.”
You sighed heavily. “You’re so mean for that…” You trailed with a smirk. Bucky shrugged his shoulders and planted another kiss on your lips.
“But you love me,” He laughed.
“Yes I do, Barnes…. Yes, I do…” You smiled back at him. “But speaking of surprises, I have one for you, too… We’ll be leaving within the next two hours, so we better get dressed.”
“What is it?” Bucky asked.
You scoffed, choosing to repeat his words. “It’s not a surprise if I tell you!” You winked, rolling off him. You extended your hands and wiggled your hips. “Have a shower with me?” You smiled.
Bucky was flinging himself out of the sheets and racing in behind you, his hands wrapped around your hips. The two of you showered together which also resulted in sex against the wall, but it was worth it. The two of you stepped out, high on your own adrenaline, hurrying to get dressed. You put on a cute yellow sundress while Bucky resorted to his jeans, a gray t-shirt, and his belt. His tattooed arms exposed, you couldn’t help but run your fingers down the length of his arms before pulling him for a delicate kiss.
You two were soon in the car, you asking to drive. You entered the address to the restaurant you were taking him to, his surprise waiting there with nervousness building in the pit of their stomachs.
Bucky and you listened to some of Civil War’s music before you opened up your playlist. Kickstart My Heart by Mötley Crüe played and you shot Bucky a mischievous look.
“That should’ve been your theme song when they pumped those two shots of adrenaline into your heart… Get it? It kickstarted your heart?” You teased behind the wheel of your Ferrari that was purchased the night you two got married, which had been delivered to California.
“Do you think you’re funny?” Bucky asked seriously.
You glanced between him and the radio, soon singing the lyrics while adding a small “Ba-dum tsssss,” For extra hilarity that finally made Bucky burst at the seams.
“I hate you but I love you at the same time, Doll,” Bucky laughed.
You giggled with the sunglasses over your eyes. “I love you too,” You smiled.
Soon, the two of you pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. Bucky’s eyebrows pinched together as he looked around at his surroundings.
“What are we doing here?”He laughed.
You walked around and grabbed his hand.
“There are a few people who want to see you,” You answered quietly, Bucky’s eyes lifting.
As you walked inside, Bucky’s eyes drifted. You saw the table ahead and you smiled to yourself, leading him over. While you approached, they all turned their heads. Bucky’s eyes grew wide as he recognized the three individuals seated at the table.
“Mom? Dad? Becca?” Bucky called their names.
Winnifred, George, and Rebecca Barnes all shifted their eyes up to their son and brother, Winnifred’s eyes brimming with tears. George stood to his feet, Rebecca doing the same.
And for the first time in years, Bucky was engulfed in a hug from his mother, father, and sister. He couldn’t help but burst into tears as he melted into their touch, Rebecca shooting you a smile as she rubbed her brother’s back comfortingly.
➳a/n: MY HEARTTTT! I’M FREAKING OBSESSED WITH THIS CHAPTER AHHH!
➳summary: When your best friends Peter, MJ, and Ned drag you along to a concert, you never expected to fall head over heels with the band, more so the drummer. Wild and erotic, Bucky Barnes is a rich rock star who gets everything handed to him. Between the money, fame, and platinum records, he has a nasty reputation. But when an innocent girl like you comes along, he can’t stay away.
➳pairing: rockstar!Bucky Barnes x College!Reader
➳warnings: features heavy angst, drug abuse, drinking, partying, cheating
➳a/n: MY HEARTTTT! I’M FREAKING OBSESSED WITH THIS CHAPTER AHHH!
➳summary: When your best friends Peter, MJ, and Ned drag you along to a concert, you never expected to fall head over heels with the band, more so the drummer. Wild and erotic, Bucky Barnes is a rich rock star who gets everything handed to him. Between the money, fame, and platinum records, he has a nasty reputation. But when an innocent girl like you comes along, he can’t stay away.
➳pairing: rockstar!Bucky Barnes x College!Reader
➳warnings: features heavy angst, drug abuse, drinking, partying, cheating
I can’t believe it. Today marks freedom. I’ve been in this rehab facility for exactly one month and while many days I nearly ripped my hair out when the cravings got so bad, I discovered resilience. It made it a touch easier knowing that Sam and Steve were here too alongside me fighting off their own addictions, but we all know between the three of us; I was the worst. After all, it took me being clinically dead for two minutes and two syringes of adrenaline to the chest.
I haven’t spoken to Y/N since giving my life over to the faculty. However, I did bring this journal with me and although Y/N never mentioned to do it, I decided to journal my thoughts. My own personal diary of my account. Maybe one day I can help those who have also struggled with addiction. But for now, my main concern is getting better not only for the wife who I hope doesn’t decide to seal our fate with a divorce, but for myself. I can’t keep living like this.
I’ve realized that I want more in my life than platinum records and adoring fans. I want a family. I want to be an inspiration for people, not someone who they looked to in remembrance of dirty deeds. I’ve thought about Zemo a lot. He was my friend and while I wished things would have turned out better for him, I’m one of the lucky few who received a second chance in life. At first, I wasn’t sure why someone like me was being offered that second chance, until I realized;
Y/N. I’ve discovered that I’m head over heels in love with her and even if she doesn’t choose to stay with me, I won’t be angry. I’ve put her through so much hell the last three months that I wouldn’t want to be with me either. I’ve never been more ready to see a woman in my entire life. First, I want my relationship with her repaired and then I’ll hopefully make amends with others who I’ve hurt on this dangerous path.
My parents.
My sister.
Sobriety is going to be a big change for me, but a change that’ll be worth it in the end. I understand the consequence of my actions and now, I want to repair the damage.
“Bucky, are you ready?” The friendly nurse smiled in his direction as she knocked on the door. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt along with his leather jacket. His raven locks of hair had grown out a touch and he reminded himself to get a haircut once he was settled in at home.
“You bet… Thanks for all you’ve done, Sarah.” Bucky smiled at her as he stood to his feet. As he walked out of the room, he was reunited with Steve and Sam. They both had brightened eyes and a look of relief covering their faces.
“How are you feeling, Buck?” Steve asked as he realized all the color in Bucky’s face had returned.
Bucky nodded his head. “I feel like a brand new man.” He said, clasping the blonde on the shoulder. As they began their journey to the front door while the faculty congratulated them on graduating from rehab, they all broke out into solid grins. While they embarked for the door, you and Natasha were waiting outside for them to emerge.
“I’m nervous… I haven’t seen him in a month.”You whispered, feeling as your palms were coated with a sweat. You stood outside of the rehab center where Bucky had driven himself to after getting out of the hopsital for his overdose. Your nerves were jumbled and you just hoped that this was the beginning of a new chapter.
“It’ll be okay,” Nat smiled, rubbing your shoulder as she watched the doors like a hawk. You drew in a deep breath as you rolled onto the balls of your feet and back down, your insides twisting with a nauseating feeling.
Praying that she was right, you closed your eyes. Suddenly, the sound of the automatic doors separating caught your attention. Natasha’s hand tightened on your shoulder as she saw Steve and Sam pushed their way forward, wearing big smiles.
You reopened your eyes and your heart fluttered intensely in your chest when your eyes rested on him.He looked so much different.The color had returned to his face, the dark circles vanished. His eyes scanned the area, obviously in search for you. When they landed on you, Bucky released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Tears welled in your eyes at the sight of him. Bucky also felt his blue orbs glisten with tears and his chest jumped violently. His heart was thrown into overdrive as he craved to hold you. You watched when he started to quicken his steps, you doing the same. Not able to contain it any longer, you sprinted. Bucky gasped when he saw you running toward him at full-speed.
Opening his arms, Bucky caught you as you jumped into them. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he gripped onto you. His face buried into your neck, both of you started to cry in each other’s embrace.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Bucky called out, kissing your neck.
You clung onto him tighter as his arms held you close to him. “I’ve missed you too,” You whispered pulling back. Bucky’s eyes scanned your face and you couldn’t wait any longer. Holding his cheek, you leaned in and kissed him deeply.
Bucky was shocked at first, but he melted into your lips. You kissed him harder and it seemed as if time around you stood still. As you finally gained the courage to pull away for a breath of air, you licked your lips and stared at him. Bucky had a lot on his mind and while he was gone for a month, he decided that you deserved much better.
“How do you feel?” You asked him quietly.
Bucky nodded. “It was rough… But I pulled through. Each day got a little better. I had you on my mind the entire time.”
You smiled widely, nodding. “I’m so proud of you,” You whispered.
Bucky laughed, his eyes brimming with tears. “I’m so ready to go home,” He breathed out. You nodded your head, allowing him to set you on the ground. You pulled out the keys to his Ferrari which you had driven and passed them over.
“Lead the way, drummer,” You smiled, wrapping your arm around his waist. Bucky laughed, kissing your cheek as he led the two of you over to the car. He pulled open the passenger’s side door, making you squeal. Rushing to the driver’s side, he was soon putting the top down and flashing you a wide grin.
Just as he started the drive, you leaned over and kissed him softly. “I love you,” You told him. Bucky’s heart sped up.
“I love you too,” He smiled, kissing you back.
Soon, the two of you were winding down the road towards his home in Malibu.You had been staying in the home. Bucky informed someone to give you the keys to the house and make it yours.You had less than a month left before you would have to return to Brooklyn for college, yet you were somewhat dreadingit.
“What are you thinking about?” Bucky asked, turning the radio down low.
You bit into your lip. “Classes start back up next month,” You cleared your throat. “Ned, Peter, and MJ went to Spain.”
Bucky’s eyes widened. He remembered how you were supposed to do the same before he convinced you to join the tour.
“Doll, why didn’t you go?” He asked.
You looked at him through your eyelashes. “Because I wanted to be here for when you got out of rehab.” You informed him honestly.
Bucky’s heart swelled at your revelation. “And honestly? I love California,” You breathed out. “…Also, turns out that I get to graduate a semester early. So instead of fall of next year, I’ll walk for my degree in May of next year. So, two more semesters and I’m finished… Which they’re letting me go online for.”
Bucky’s eyes lit up. “What are you trying to say to me?” He laughed.
You smiled, wrapping your hand through his. “I’m saying that… I want to work on us.I’ve had a lot of time to think about the last two months, and I want to do things right.So, I’m staying in California… If you’ll have me.”
Bucky grinned. “Baby, I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He announced.
When the drive ended and you two were parked in front of the Malibu mansion, you and Bucky hurried your way inside. As he made it through the front door, he stopped in his tracks. To his recollection, he hadn’t stepped foot inside of his home since before the tour started. It was a bittersweet moment for him, one that he had to take a second to himself for. And when he looked over to see his wife standing there, he bit his lip.
“What?” You giggled as you walked forward.
Bucky shook his head. “It’s just surreal to see you standing inside of this place with me.” He shrugged.
You grinned. “Well, I’ve done a little bit of redecorating. Natasha’s helped keep me occupied when I tried to run myself crazy over you.” You giggled. “New curtains… I may have ordered a new bed for your room… Or, our room. Bucky, this place is gorgeous. Everything about it, I love it.” You expressed.
Bucky smiled proudly. As he walked through, he remembered that alcohol was in the fridge. You noticed the way he eyed the appliance and you quickly cleared your throat.
“I got rid of it all,” You announced.
Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”
You nodded. “Every ounce of alcohol in the house both hidden and in plain sight, it’s gone. I scoped out the entire house. You’re okay.”
Bucky felt his heart swell in his chest.
“How did I get so lucky?” He asked quietly.
Laughing, you shook your head. “I want to make this work, Bucky. And it’s going to take us becoming a team.I stopped drinking, too. It’s not fair to you if I participate in it.”
Bucky couldn’t contain himself any longer. He walked forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in tight. You gasped when his lips found yours, giving you a very passionate kiss. You moaned softly into his mouth, your hand wrapping around the back of his neck. Curling your fingers around the strands of his hair, you smiled against his lips.
“Come on! I want to show you what all I’ve done!” You squealed, grabbing his hand.
Bucky burst out laughing, tanging his hand through yours.
He was hooked. He was so in love.
And now he was on a mission to make it all right again…
A/N: Part 6 is here you beautiful people! Feedback and reblogs are much appreciated. And let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!
Summary: Imagine being an FBI agent and the daughter of Wolverine. You used to be a a black widow and Hydra assassin as well as a part of Bucky’s past, a past that he had forgotten over time, until one day, he sees your face shadowed behind the public eye, like an apparition, as if you didn’t exist. Confused over your existence and questioning whether what he saw was real, Bucky finds himself scrambling to search for clues that would lead to who you are and why he feels as if he had seen you before. You on the other hand had moved on, starting a new life for yourself and even finding yourself working with a certain lawyer. After the horrors you faced, you wanted to leave your past behind you, eventually forgetting mostly everything that ever happened. That is until the former Winter Soldier brings those memories all back.
Warnings: language, angst, blood and violence, and a slightly steamy scene towards the end. This chapter briefly mentions a crime scene that involves the assault and murder of a minor so read at your own risk.
It felt as if the world was swaying around you, shifting in and out of focus. Your head was spinning, reeling over and over with the name that was written across the card in maroon ink. That 5 letter name. Laura. There was only one person that went by the name Laura that you knew, and it was your sister. You had been too absorbed on the events before; beginning with the things that Matt had said to you, then the body of the dead girl and the vision you had of her, and now your sister. It couldn’t be a coincidence, your sister’s name written across a card right after you investigated into the murder of the girl. It had to be be him, the killer, the same man that raped and killed that little girl and left her body out in the woods to rot. You knew it the moment when you picked it up, you could smell his perfume off the small piece of cardstock. What you didn’t know was how he had managed to sneak past the other feds and officers to get to your car. And how he had come to know about your little sister was beyond you. You had worked hard to keep everything about your past a secret, and it seemed as if everything was slowly spilling out of the abyss you had locked those secrets in in the first place. First the confrontation with Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes, and now that bastard who now had the deaths of 4 underage girls on his hand. Your sister’s name on that card was a threat. And you were going to get to him before he could get to her or anyone else ever again.
You arrived at your apartment after what had felt like days worth of driving, unlocking the door and slamming it behind you before hurriedly locking the special lock you had made for it.
“Hey. You okay?” Your heard Yelena’s voice speak up from where she sat on your armchair in the corner, setting her book down on the table once she saw the troubled look on your face as you went over to the window to search the streets. “Y/n?”
“Hm?” You turned towards her with a distant look behind your eyes. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“I thought we promised each other no more lies. We even made a pinky promise.”
“…….Sorry.” You shook your head, letting out an exasperated sigh and pinching the bridge of you nose.
“Y/n. Is something going on?” Yelena stepped up to you with a concerned look on her face as she placed a hand on your arm.
“I think Laura is in danger.”
“Your sister? Why? What happened?”
“Have you heard about those missing girls whose bodies were found in rivers?”
“Yes.” Yelena blinked, confused by why you were bringing this up as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I heard about it in the news.”
“Yeah well. I was called to investigate his new murder victim and when I left the crime scene I found this on my car.” You handed the card.
Yelena stared down at the card in her hands, her eyes running over Laura’s name with a clenched jaw.
“Tell me that’s not a coincidence.” You started to pace the room with your hands on you hips as sweat started to build at your forehead.
“How do you know it’s him?”
“I’m pretty damn sure it’s him. I can smell his stench off it. Clive Christian’s Original Collection.”
“Clive what?”
“It’s his cologne. I smelled the same thing off the girl’s dead body.”
“Do you know who it is?”
“Yeah, I looked him up on the way here. Some rich executive named Harrison Ross. The bastard is holding some kind of Gala tonight as if he didn’t just kill a little girl. Jesus fucking Christ……….How does he know about Laura?”
“Maybe he had someone follow you and overheard you talking about her?”
“Shit.” You shook your head, placing both your hands on top of your head, thinking back to the time that you had dinner with your dad at the pub. Considering how many people were there, it’s possible that any one of them could have been working for Ross. “This is all my fault.”
“What? No. None of this is your fault.”
“But still. If I had been more careful-” You stopped, turning towards your front door at the sound of footsteps.
“Who is it?” Yelena followed your gaze, her hand slowly reaching for her gun at her hip.
“It’s my dad, and Laura. They just got out of the elevator.” You breathed out before turning back to her. “Listen, I need you to look after Laura.”
“What, why? Y/n, what are you going to do?”
“What I have to do.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means.” Yelena hissed, making sure to keep her voice low so that your father would not overhear.
“Just promise me that you’ll look after her. My dad can’t know about this or else he’ll freak the fuck out and go on a rampage.” You grabbed Yelena’s hands. “Promise me you’ll do that.”
“……..Okay. I uh, I promise.”
“Thank you.” You gave her a hug before handing her a piece of paper. “I’m going to need you to take yourself and Laura to the address that’s on there.”
“Wait….isn’t this where-”
“Yeah I know. It’s the safest place you could be. Tell Stephen I owe him one.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’m just going to go to the Gala tonight and lock his ass up in jail and that’s it. I’ll be fine.” You reassured her, but the words seemed to hold no meaning, as if they were directed more towards you, a consolation of what tonight’s events might lead to, praying that whatever happened would lead to the better end of the alternatives. At this point, you weren’t so sure just what you were about to do.
Just a second later after you had finished your sentence, your front doorbell had rang. Taking in a deep breath and banishing the dark cloud that was held over your head, you went over to open it to see you father Logan and your little sister Laura standing out front.
“Hey kiddo.” Logan smiled at you.
“Look who it is.” You smiled back, going into his embrace as he kissed the top of your head.
“Geez.” Your father scrunched up his nose. “You smell like shit.”
“Yeah well you smell like cigars and cheap whiskey.”
“Hey.” Logan put his hands on his hips, amusement written on his face. “Sometimes the cheap stuff tastes better than that expensive fruit juice that you get.”
“I know my wines. You just have terrible taste.”
“I’m serious. You smell like you cuddled up to roadkill. The hell did you do, roll around in a cemetery?”
“I uh, just got back from a crime scene actually.”
“Sorry, sounds like shit. Who’s this?” Logan nodded behind you.
“Oh! Dad, you remember Yelena Belova.”
“Hi Y/n’s dad.” Yelena waved shyly before stuffing her hands in her pockets.
“Nice to meet you.” Logan gave her a polite nod before studying the features of your face. “Hey, you don’t look too good.”
“Huh? Yeah, I uh, haven’t been getting much sleep lately.”
“Something to do with your job huh. How’s the investigations?”
“Good. I mean, not good obviously because people are dead. But we have some leads and hopefully we’ll have the suspects apprehended before tomorrow.”
“Sounds like you need a vacation.”
“Bad guys don’t rest so neither do I.” You sighed, pushing back a strand of your loose hair before bending over to level yourself to your little sister with a soft smile. “Hey there Laura. How’s it going?”
"Laura say hi to your sister.” Logan gave her a small nudge.
You maintained the strained smile on your face, trying your best to seem as friendly as possible. You were happy to see her no doubt the less, especially since you never had much time to spend with her due to your work schedule and her being in school, but the look she gave you told you otherwise. Laura face was stoic underneath her sunglasses, and it seemed as if there wasn’t a single thought nor regard towards you in her eyes as she walked straight pass you into your apartment before plopping down on the couch without a single word in your direction, even ignoring Yelena’s little hello.
“Yup.” You popped your lips before standing back up. “She definitely hates me.”
"She doesn’t hate you. She’s just shy.” Logan quirked a brow at your pessimism before handing you her little suitcase. “Here’s all her things.”
“I’m pretty sure her eyes are filled with a deep resentment towards me behind those little sunglasses of hers. It’s like I shit in her bowl of cereal or something. Good thing she’s not Scott’s kid or else I would’ve been fucking obliterated by now.” You scoffed as you took Laura’s suitcase from him and set it to the side.
“If she hated you, we’d know. Just give her time.” Logan sighed. “She was like that towards me when I first met her. And watch your language around her. Don’t need her learning from our bad habits.”
“I’m sorry,” you sassed, holding your finger up to make a point, “but didn’t I just hear you say the poop word like two times now.”
“Yeah well I’m doing my best.”
“Well the resemblance is uncanny I’ll give you that.” You sighed as you rested your hand on your hip and turned back to see Laura sitting there with a scowl on her face. “The scowl, the brooding, the whole fuck off attitude and even right down to the eyebrows. She is 100% you’re kid.”
“Yeah and so are you.” Logan scoffed. “You nearly broke my nose when you first saw me, remember? And you’ve got a hell of a colorful language.”
“Looks like I got it from you.”
"Guess I raised you right then.” Logan chuckled. “You know, the professor position is still open back at the school. You wouldn’t have to put up with this anymore and you could finally get some damn good rest.”
"No, I know. You’ve mentioned it to me before but I just…I can’t just leave you know. Those criminals are still out there, hurting other people, innocent people.”
“What you mean to say is those badge wearing bastards have you in a chokehold.”
“Yeah well I could’ve been locked up forever for the crimes I committed.”
“Yeah, crimes you had no control over doing. Don’t those brains of theirs know those Hydra and Red Room bastards had you wired up.”
“It doesn’t work like that dad. And besides, I volunteered for this job, thought it would do me good.”
“Yeah, it’s doing you good alright. You look the same from when I first rescued you from Hydra, sleep deprived.”
“Well this isn’t exactly an easy job.” You snarked as you tried to maintain your point. “I knew what I signed up for dad. And to be honest, putting those criminals behind bars is worth every goddamn minute.”
“I know, I get it. I just don’t want you to get caught up in the same mess like I was. You’re still young.”
“Well I wouldn’t really call myself young.” You scoffed.
“I know that. There’s still time you know, for you to move on with your life and find something that doesn’t involve all this.” Logan leaned on your doorframe with his arms crossed. “I was thinking we all can move down to Canada. Build a home by the lake like you always wanted where you, me, and Laura can live in, together, as a family. You can even have all the animals you want.”
"I know. With mom gone it’s just-” You sighed, staring down at your hands and picking at the skin on your fingers. “I just….feel like I haven’t done enough for all the things that I had done, ya know?”
“If you keep letting the past haunt you and trying so desperately to go down that path of redemption you’re gonna find yourself stuck in a hole you can’t get out of.”
"Well, what can I say. We’re Howletts, it’s what we do.”
“Yeah.” Logan let a low chuckle. “You know, you could always take up boxing, or mma, go fight in the ring, make more money than you do here.”
“What, like what you did?” You scoffed with an amused raise of your brow. “You fought underground dad.”
“Yeah so. I can be your trainer and we can nickname you Iron Fist.” Logan teased.
“I’m pretty sure that’s taken.” You laughed.
“It is? What kinda punk took that name huh. Bet his fists aren’t even made of Iron.”
“Yeah okay dad.” You rolled your eyes.
“I’m serious. The offer at the school is still open.”
“…………I’ll think about.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Atta girl.” Logan ruffled your hear with a chuckle much to your annoyance. “Well I’m about to head out now.”
“So soon?”
“Yeah. I gotta get on the road.”
“Well it was nice seeing ya dad.” You smiled.
“Nice seein ya too kid. Just remember to be careful, don’t want ya to loose sight of who you are.”
“I won’t.”
“And if ya got any problems, I’m a phone call away. I’m here if you need me kid.”
You put on your best smile, trying your best not to think of the dead girl and the picture of her pale and stone-like face. After finding the card with Laura’s name on it, this new fear had suddenly overcome you, a fear that had shook you to the core more than anything you had ever experienced. The last time you were this afraid, you were captured for the Black Widow program and Hydra, but this, this was something else. Now you were terrified for the life of someone else, someone you cared about, and the thought of your sister lying dead in those cold dark woods made your blood run cold. You didn’t know what this killer was capable of, but one thing was for certain, you would rather risk your own life than let that pathetic excuse of a human come close to your sister. Logan trusted you with Laura’s life, and you were going to keep that promise. But you couldn’t let your father know about what happened, and though the thought of it irked you, it was a good thing you were trained at a young age to lie. “Thanks dad. I appreciate it, really.”
“Love ya kid.” Logan gave you one last hug and a kiss at the top of your head before saying his goodbyes to Laura and leaving down the hallway.
You watched him disappear into the elevator with a frown on your face, your fists clenching at your side before closing the door and staring into the worried face of Yelena. “You should pack a few things for yourself.”
Yelena stared back at you with a darkened look, her eyes searching yours while the ends of her lips turned down at the ends. “Y/n, I’m worried about you.”
“I know, I know. But you have to trust me on this. Please Yelena.”
“I already lost Natasha.”
“I know, I get it Yelena. But you have to trust me.”
“……….Fine. Fine. yah okay. But if you don’t make it back I swear-”
“You’ll find me and kill me yourself, I get it.” You looked at the time, seeing that it was only 3. “You should get ready to go.”
“…..okay.” Yelena sighed with a small nod of her head before going off to pack her things.
You looked down at your sister who had not moved from her seat on the couch, her face unmoving as she flipped through the channels on your TV. Going to the kitchen, you opened up the freezer to grab a small carton of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream and a spoon before sitting next to her on your couch. “Hey.”
Laura did not give a single response as she flipped through various channels before stopping on a channel that was playing Shrek.
“Good choice.” You glanced at the tv with a nod of approval. “I bought you ice cream btw. Little birdie told me you like Ben & Jerry’s Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream. And since dad is not one for knowing how to shop for groceries much, especially desserts, I bought you four of these so you can eat to your heart’s content.”
Laura looked at you sideways, glancing up at your face before eyeing the carton of ice cream in your hands.
“Go on, it’s all yours.” You handed her the carton and the spoon, smiling in relief as she finally took them from you after a moment of hesitation before opening the lid and popping a whole spoonful in her mouth.
“You know, Shrek is one of my favorite movies to watch. I can quote the whole movie from front to back, but don’t tell anyone I told you that.” You sat back with a smirk as you watched the movie with her for a bit until your phone began to ring in your pocket causing an annoyed sigh to escape your lips as you picked it up. “Hello?”
“Y/n?”
“Matt?” You scrunched your nose in confusion. Your irritated tone had caused Laura to side glance at you and listen in on the conversation to figure out what could have upset you. “The hell. You tryna give me a reason to block you?”
“Wha-no, no……..Is that….Shrek in the background?”
“Yeah. My sister is staying with me for a couple of months. The hell are you calling me for Murdock.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“Whatya need Matt?”
“I uh-might need your help.”
“Oh yeah?” you scoffed. “Seems like you’re asking an awful lot of favors from me lately.”
“I know…….I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m-urgh.” You heard him let out what sounded to be a pained groan on the other end.
“Jesus fucking christ. You’re hurt aren’t you.”
“…Yes.”
“And let me guess. You need me to come over to your place to patch you up because I definitely as hell ain’t letting your ass in my apartment.”
“………yes.”
“Christ’s sake Matt. Don’t you have any lady friends of yours that are nurses or doctors? In case you didn’t know the difference, I’m a psychiatrist, not a surgeon.”
“I know. But the nurse that I know is out of town and you’re the only other person that I trust.”
You let out a frustrated sigh, running your fingers through your hair before rubbing your temples. “……..Okay. Fine. I’ll head out right now.”
“Thanks y/n.”
“Don’t mention it.” You hung up before getting up from the couch and grabbing your keys from the counter.
“Were are you going?” Yelena questioned once she saw you searching for something.
“I gotta go uh….help an acquaintance. Would you happen to have a first aid kit by chance?”
“Yeah. I put it in your cabinet there. You don’t have one?”
“Well it’s not like a need one.” You scoffed as you opened up the wooden cabinet you had by the door and grabbed the first aid kit before throwing on your shoes. “Just make sure to keep an eye out yeah. And if anything happens, call Stephen, he’ can get here much quicker than I can. His number is on the paper I gave you.”
“I can handle myself.” Yelena raised her brow.
“I know you can. But you’re also human, and we don’t know anything about the possible threat. I’ll be back in about an hour and a half to two hours.”
You arrived at Matt’s apartment complex not long after, pulling your car up to the curb and letting the rumble of the engine run for a moment as you stared up at the the windows that belonged to his place. “God damn it Matt.” You cursed under your breath before getting out of your car and heading up to his place. You tapped your knuckles lightly on his door, hearing the sound of shuffling coming from inside until the door opened to reveal a rather disarranged looking Matt.
“Wow. You look like shit.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” Matt gave you an unamused smile before letting you inside.
“I see you’ve done absolutely nothing to cheer up your place. Dull as always.” You looked around with a distasteful look on your face as you swiped your finger on one of his tables to see dust coating your fingertip. “Yikes. This place could use a proper clean too. I wouldn’t be surprised if traces of the bubonic plague could be found here.”
“Haha very funny. You here to do an inspection?”
“Um, considering I have to be here, physically in this place of yours, yes. Now get your ass on the couch and take off your shirt.” You set your purse down on the table, opening it up to pull out the first aid kit before heading to the sink to wash your hands.
“How’s your sister Laura?” Matt called out from his spot on the couch.
Your breathing hitched just the faintest at the mention of her name, squeezing your eyes shut against the image of her name written across the card in large maroon letters. “She’s uh, she’s doing good. She hasn’t spoken a word to me but she’s good.”
“That’s good to hear. At least you get to spend some time with her.”
“Yeah.” You shook your head, banishing any thoughts related to the case and the event later tonight as to keep Matt from getting suspicious. “I have your file btw. I left some notes in there.”
“Wait, you’re done?” Matt blinked his eyes with a scrunch of his nose before turning his head towards where you stood by the sink. He was surprised that you had already gone through the file and made up a conclusion, especially since he had handed it to you this morning. “That was fast.”
“What can I say.” You let your hands dry off before walking over to where Matt sat on the couch. “I’m good at what I do.”
“Which is why I asked for your help.”
“Oh yeah?” You raised a brow as you slipped on a fresh pair of latex gloves. “Is that also why you called me here now instead of I don’t know, contacting someone else like Foggy.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I just like the sound of your voice.”
You scoffed at his statement with a shake of your head, trying to keep down the blush that started to spread through your cheeks and thankful for the fact that Matt couldn’t see it. “And how many other girls have you said that to? 5? 10?”
“Ahah.” Matt let out a soft chuckle. “Well maybe one.”
“Oh? So just one?”
“Okay, so maybe 2 others.”
“2 meaning 3 or 4.” You teased as you sat yourself down on his coffee table to start on his wounds only to let out a hiss at the sight of him. Large bruises and deep gashes lined his torso, painting a picture of grisly along with a cut that went down his forehead, stopping right below his temple. “Jesus Matt.”
“Judging from the tone of your voice, I don’t look too good.”
“Yeah no shit Sherlock. The hell happened? You get into a fight with Freddy Kreuger?”
“I guess you could call it that.”
“You guess?”
“Well the guy was pretty huge…..and he had a sword.”
“A big guy with a sword. Huh, sounds like Wade.”
“Who’s Wade?”
“This vigilante I ran into once. Likes to talk a lot, super annoying, but kinda funny. Did your guy crack any jokes?”
“Nah. No my guy was pretty quiet, spoke in short sentences.”
“Yeah that’s definitely not Wade.” You opened up the first aid kit and stared at the contents inside. “He would’ve shit at your little costume. Where is it anyways? Did you forget it at the dry cleaners for this fight?”
“I uh, need to get a new one.”
“Yeah. You do that.” You scoffed with a shake of your head. “So…..you see a big guy with a sword and you think it’s a good idea to tango with him. You know, for someone with a law degree from Columbia University, you sure as hell are an idiot.”
“So I’ve been told.” Matt chuckled.
Grabbing some cotton and disinfectant, you gently swabbed at his wounds, wiping off any excess blood and making sure to get rid of any possible traces of bacteria. You felt Matt’s muscles tense under your touch as he let out a hiss, looking up at his face to see his eyes shut in pain. “Hey…..you need some anesthetic for the pain?”
“Nah, I’m fine, thank you.”
You shook your head with a sigh, focusing on your less dominant hand and causing a small fire to be ignited from within your palms, the red tendrils weaving through your fingers as you held it up to your eye level.
“Wha-what are you doing?” Matt tilted his head after sensing the sudden change in temperature. He couldn’t help but feel apprehensive from the unnatural source of heat that sprouted from your hands, afraid that it might somehow spin out of control. After all, he wasn’t used to this sort of thing, especially not in person.
“I need to sterilize the needle before I start stitching up your wounds.” You muttered as you held the needle up to the flame, watching the point of the metal turn red. “And relax. I got it under control.”
“Thought you wouldn’t read my mind.”
“Well maybe try not to think so damn loud next time.” You smirked.
“I’ll uh, do my best, Doctor.”
You rolled your eyes at Matt’s comment before distinguishing the flame, letting the needle cool down for a bit before beginning to stich up his open wounds, causing Matt to wince each time the needle pierced his skin. “You know, you really gotta be careful next time.”
“Is that-don’t tell me you care about me Agent Howlett.” Matt gave you his signature smirk behind those glasses of his, the action causing your cheeks to heat up again while you only forced to keep your heart rate the same so that he wouldn’t notice.
“You know, considering that I’m the one with a needle in hand, I’d choose my next words wisely.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Well Matthew Michael Murdock, if that’s the case, I just might have to stab you.”
“Well what if I just like to get you riled up?”
You let out a scoff, his words catching you off guard. “You’ve got a lot of confidence for someone who gets their ass kicked all the time.”
“Ouch that hurt.” Matt feigned an insulted expression to which you let out a small laugh with a shake of your head.
“Keep talking. I’ve got plenty of insults.” You joked, straightening up a little to work on the cut on his forehead while Matt chuckled, smirking at the way you reacted.
There was a short silence between the two of you, the air around you returning to it’s serious atmosphere while you worked on his last wound until you heard Matt’s voice speak up again.
“Does it hurt?”
“What?” You scrunched your nose.
“Your hands, when they come out.”
“……Every time.”
“How do you go through with it?”
“I just do. The same way you keep fighting despite being beat up.”
“What about the fire?”
“It did at first. Shit. It hurt like hell the first time because I didn’t know how to control it while it engulfed every inch of me, especially since my body kept trying to heal. But once I learned to harness it, control it, it didn’t cause anymore pain. Now it just feels like being wrapped in a warm blanket.”
“At least you won’t need a heater during the winter months.”
“Yeah. I guess not.” You laughed at his little joke, finding yourself gazing at him with a smile once you had finished up his last wound before clearing your throat. “You’re uh. You’re all done by the way.”
“Thanks for this y/n. Really.” Matt smiled at you. “It means a lot.”
“Yeah well…..couldn’t have you bleed out in your own apartment now could I?”
“No, I guess not.” Matt smirked before tilting his head towards you, bringing his hands up to caress your cheek while he did so.
You ever so slightly gasped at his touch, his thumb leaving trails of goosebumps in its path against your skin. “Matt.” You breathed out with your eyes fluttered closed. You wanted to pull away, terrified of what this would lead to and yet, you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, tempted to be able to feel something for once. And though you tried so desperately to not let your feelings show, Matt knew the hold he had on you. But he also was aware of the hold you had on him, and it drove him over the edge. You found yourself reaching for him, your hand placing itself on his thigh to steady yourself while your breaths fanned each others faces.
“Y/n, about what happened before-”
“Oh shut up.” You cut him off before crashing your lips against his.
Matt sat frozen for a second, surprised by your movement before molding himself into your lips, his hands finding a way to your waist to pull you flush against him before resting a hand on the curve of your back. Matt moaned against your lips, craning his head out towards you with half shut eyes as you pulled away with a smirk at the sight of him being a mess beneath you while you placed your hand on his chest, pushing him down onto the couch before straddling his waist. Sliding your hand up to the bottom of his neck, you bent down to make out with him, your hand slowly making its way up against his skin before finally reaching the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. Running your fingers through his hair, you dragged your nails down his scalp, biting his bottom lip as you did so before clutching his hair and pulling his head back, eliciting a grunt of arousal to escape from his parted flushed lips. Smirking, you placed your lips behind his ear, pressing kisses down his jaw and neck while his hands slid up your thighs to clutch at the soft flesh of your hips while you grinded down against him. Matt let out a groan, bringing his hand up to wrap around your neck before reconnecting his lips with yours.
The two of you were a panting mess, both of your heightened senses making the current moment much more intense than if you didn’t possess the abilities you had. Matt’s hands were warm against your body, leaving goosebumps wherever they went despite you being fully clothed. Yet yours were life fire against his, your body heat raising in temperature from the way you felt. You felt Matt’s hand slide away from your neck, his fingers tracing up your skin in patterns and making its way to your hair before stopping at the touch of ice cold metal meeting his fingertips. The action had felt like an electric shock running through your spine, the brief contact making you gasp in fear as you yanked yourself away, moving yourself off him and pushing yourself back towards the opposite end of the couch.
“Y/n?” Matt had sensed your emotion, noticing how your heart rate had sped up incredibly and the way you had flinched away from when his fingers came into contact with the strange metal device that was embedded into your skin right below the back of your head near the top curve of your neck. “You okay?” Matt asked, but you did not answer.
Your eyes were glossed over, your body trembling as various images flashed before your eyes. You saw yourself in an operating room, fully awake and conscious and strapped down onto the operating table while the sound of a drill filled your ears in piercing screeches before being overcome with the screams of your own as a sharp pain spread down your spine and through the back of your head.
“Y/n.” Matt’s voice called out to you in echoes muffled behind the shadows of your visions until the touch of his hands gently placing themselves at the sides of your face brought you back. Barely breaking out of your daze in an unstable snarl of fury, you knocked Matt down onto the ground, placing your body over him as your claws slipped out of your knuckles with their sharp points hovering right over where his head was.
“Y/n.” Matt breathed out, attempting to stay calm despite feeling the sharp metal just barely grazing against the skin on his forehead. Though he couldn’t see the expression on your face, nor the rage behind your eyes, something told him that he wouldn’t have been able to recognize you in this moment. “It’s me. It’s okay.”
You blinked back the tears that had formed in your eyes amidst the terrors of your visions, your brows knitted together at the situation unfurled while a choked whisper escaped your lips. “Matt?”
“Hey. It’s okay. It’s alright.”
“I-I.” You choked out as you unsheathed your claws before getting off him. “Matt, I-I’m so sorry.”
“Hey it’s okay. You’re safe.”
“I could’ve-I could’ve killed you. I could’ve-” You mumbled, staring at him with widened eyes filled with disbelief at the thought of how you were just seconds away from killing someone you cared about.
“It’s okay, I’m fine.” Matt scooted closer only for you to stop him.
“Don’t.”
“Y/n.”
“Stay back Matt.” You spoke in a firmer tone before running your hands through your hair. “Jesus fucking christ. I tried to kill you. Don’t you see that?”
“But you didn’t.”
“But I could have! What if I couldn’t have been stopped huh? What then?” You shook your head before getting up. “I need to go.”
“Were are you going?” Matt stood up with you.
“Home.”
“Y/n wait. Something’s been bothering you since I last saw you. What’s going on?”
“None of your concern Matt.” You clenched your jaw, avoiding his face as you gathered all your things. “I left your file on the desk.”
“Look, I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe.”
“Yeah well I don’t need you to keep me safe okay.” You snapped. “I can take bullets, you can’t. If anything you should be keeping yourself safe from me.”
“Y/n wait.” Matt called out for you, standing in the center of the room with concern written across his features. But you did not respond, nor did you turn back just once as you walked out of his apartment, your heart rate slowing down to it’s steady rhythm. Matt silently listened to the sound of your footsteps getting fainter and fainter the farther away you went, until the loud rumble of your car’s engine started up, echoing in the street followed the screeching of your tires as you drove off, farther and farther away until he could no longer hear whatever was left of you.
Matt Murdock x Mutant!Reader, Bucky x Mutant!Reader Part 5
A/N: Part 5 is here my lovelies! I hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated and let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list. Have a lovely day! ✨✨✨
Summary: Imagine being the daughter of Wolverine and an FBI agent. You used to be a part of Bucky’s past. A distant part of his past that he had forgotten over time, until one day, he sees your face shadowed behind the public eye, like an apparition, almost as if you didn’t exist. Confused over your existence and questioning whether what he saw was real, broken memories of you come flooding back to him, and Bucky finds himself scrambling to search for clues that would lead to who you are and why he feels as if he had seen you before. You on the other hand had moved on, starting a new life for yourself and even finding yourself working with a certain lawyer. After the horrors you faced, you wanted to leave your past behind you, eventually forgetting mostly everything that ever happened. That is until the former Winter Soldier brings those memories all back.
Warnings: language, angst, blood and violence. Trigger warning, this chapter involves descriptions of a crime scene: homicide and sexual assault against a minor, so please do not read this if you feel this may affect you. I will also input trigger warnings around the areas that this theme is mentioned.
You pulled up to the sight of the crime scene you were just called into after working on some files at the office during the morning, parking your car on the side of the road that led to a local hiking trail as the lights of the cop cars danced across your face in patterns of reds and blues. You remained in your seat for a moment, your knuckles turning white from gripping your wheel as you stared off into the distance, drowning out the sound of the police radios with deep and steady breaths as you tried to prepare yourself for what you might come across. You usually liked to keep yourself preoccupied, whether it was your work or other simple things like reading a book, it helped to distract you from whatever it was you needed to take your mind off of. But now that you didn’t have your head buried in files and reports, your thoughts began to drift off to what had happened earlier. Various speculations ran through your head as you tried to analyze the things Matt had said to you and why he had even done so in the first place. Perhaps you were overthinking it. Sure, Karen was an extremely attractive woman, and you found yourself feeling silly for even thinking of the idea as if Matt knew what she looked like. But it wasn’t so much that, it was the way she looked at him that made you doubt everything he told you. Maybe the things he said were just a ploy, one of his lawyer tactics to get you to get over the anger you had for him so that you would end up helping with his case. If there was one thing he was good at, it was his way with words. Matt almost always knew what to say and he could be persuasive at times. And if there was one thing you were good at, it was knowing whether he was being honest or just being full of bullshit. If only you could have deciphered which one if it weren’t for your emotions getting in the way.
Turning off your engine, you stepped out of your car, squinting your eyes against the glare of the sun and searching the faces of the officers nearby. After throwing on your sunglasses you spotted the familiar head of dark brown curls sticking out from behind a Buick. Upon spotting you, your partner Pedro who was leaning against his car, waved you over. “Gomez.” You walked over to him, giving him a short and polite smile.
“Afternoon y/l/n. You feeling better?”
“Yeah. So what have we got here?”
“They found a dead body about a mile off the trail.” Pedro told you before walking alongside you to the destination.
“Any witnesses?” You brought up, your eyes focused on the dirt and pieces of mud that started to coat the tops of your boots while keeping a lookout for anything that could be a piece of evidence as you trudged deeper into the thicket of trees.
“A park ranger. Said he heard something between the trees and went to check it out and that’s when he found the body.”
“And the suspect?”
“Fled the scene before anyone arrived.”
“Any identification of a vehicle?”
“As of yet, no.”
“What about the media? They haven’t heard about this yet have they?”
“No. I have a few officers stationed outside in specific areas to block off all possible access to the scene.
"Good. Not a word of this to the press. Not until we know what’s going on.”
“Got it.”
Some time had passed, though not much. The sun was still high in the sky, its rays shrouded by the dense leaves and branches of the trees that covered the grounds. The smell of pine, damp soil from the moisture left over by the morning fog, and the smell of sap leaking from the cracks of trunks filled the air as Pedro and you hiked off the trail and ventured deeper into the woods, following the two officers in front of you. When you began to approach the area of concern, there in the distance your ears picked up on the sound of people moving about, paired with the soft chatter of voices as they discussed important issues with each other that seemed to blend with the preferred quietness of some. You noticed how some of them were unsettled, their muscles stiff as they carried out their duties while the rest carried an air of composure and focus resulted by the years spent working in the field. The familiar dark blue uniforms of the police and the black windbreakers with the printed word “Forensics” in white block letters were seen moving about the area inside the yellow tape that went around the perimeter.
“Here we are.” Pedro commented as the two of you ducked under the tape while making sure to be extra cautious where you stepped. “Hey, before you go any further,” Pedro stopped you, his eyes searching the ground as he tried to find the right words to say. “this…..this one is different. It might…….upset you.”
***Trigger Warning Beginning***
You gave Pedro a puzzled look, searching the clouded look in the dark chestnut depths of his irises that were shadowed beneath his brows that were currently knitted together. Being mindful of his words, you turned your head in the direction on your left where the trees had formed a clearing, the sun shining some light onto the patch where most of the others were gathered. You had caught note of the faint smell while you were still a distance away, a smell that you could never get used to, the sharp and stinging smell of rot that burned the inside of your nose and made you want to hurl. You knew there would be a dead body before you even arrived at the scene. Having knowledge that a location had a dead body was one thing, seeing it was another. The thing when expecting corpses was that you never knew just what to expect.
Just a few feet away, towards the center, a few personnel of the forensics team were crouched near the ground with their cameras, their flashes going off in clicks and sparks of white as they snapped multiple shots involving different angles of the body that was there. It seemed as if time had slowed down as you moved closer to investigate, your feet were heavy, like someone had tied weights to them using iron chains that burned against the flesh on your ankles. You could feel the eyes of those around you, hear the heartbeats of the members of the crime scene unit as they took a quick look at your stone like face before stepping aside as you passed. You nearly gasped at the sight, feeling your heart stop in your chest and fall to your stomach as your eyes bore into the lifeless face of the girl that lied there, a child.
“My god.” You breathed out with a clenched jaw, the ends of your lips turned downwards as you struggled to get ahold of the image. The girl, of age 14 or 15, lied there unsettlingly amongst the patch of grass, her skin ghostly white and the curls of her blonde hair splayed out behind her. It looked almost as if she were sleeping, and the somewhat peaceful image that was displayed haunted you to the core because of the monstrosity that lurked behind it. She was placed on her back with her hands folded neatly above her stomach, holding a single lily between her thin fingers. She was dressed in this white georgette dress that stopped a bit above her knees, the white fabric hinting just the faintest shade of pink while flowers adorned her hair, an assortment of lilacs and daisies. One would think that after working in this field after a certain amount of time, you’d get used to seeing stuff like this. But no, it never got easier. If anything, you just didn’t vomit like you did the first time you saw one.
“There’s speculation this one might be tied to the other 3 girls that were found.” Pedro crossed his arms over his chest as he watched you get a closer look.
“The other three? You mean the other 3 girls that were found in rivers in Massachusetts and Rhode Island? I read the files.”
“What can you make of it?” Pedro asked as he pulled out a notepad and pen from his pocket, the tip of the pen hovering over the paper as he waited for your observations.
“The murder victim is female, age 14 or 15.” You stated, pulling up the fabric of your pants before crouching down to your knees while slipping on a clean pair of gloves, the dry texture of the latex sticking against your skin as you pulled it over your wrists. “This one is fresh, killed not too long ago unlike the others that were in the later stages of decomposition. I’d say the time of death was……7 hours and 16 minutes ago. There’s….some bruising on her wrists that look like rope marks, silk.”
“Silk?” Pedro quirked a brow. “How can you tell?”
“The imprint of fibers.” You pointed to her wrists.
“What else?”
“He had her locked up, tied her up to make sure she wouldn’t escape. But he didn’t starve her, no, she was well fed. It looks like the suspect put some makeup on her. Not a lot, just some blush on her cheeks and some lipstick. Her nails are clean. She was……..groomed well, there’s hardly any traces of dirt on her. She has………..” You gulped, your nails digging into your palms as you pressed the back of your knuckles against your mouth.
“What is it?”
“There’s uh, bruising………near her inner thighs and uh……….signs of sexual assault.” Your voice came out in a broken whisper. “…………Have the forensics found any traces of semen?”
“None.”
“He made sure to wash her up. Fucking bastard piece of shit.”
“Hey.” You felt Pedro’s hand on the back of your shoulder. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Can we please move further?”
“……….What do you call the cause of death?”
“There’s no severe signs of strangulation or physical trauma.” You sniffed over her body with twisted lips, using your senses to pick up on any certain smells that could be a clue before recoiling from the acidic scent that burned through your nostrils, making you cough as a result. “Nightshade poisoning from ingestion. Hang on………..she’s wearing perfume.”
“Perfume? Any idea what brand?”
“………..Eleganter Schwan 06.”
“Say what?”
“Wait…….there’s more.” You stopped him, closing your eyes and breathing in the air. “There’s……leftover traces of cologne…………Clive Christian’s Original Collection.”
“You think the suspect was wearing it?”
“Positive.”
“How did you know what brands they are?” Pedro looked intently in surprise at the side of your face, watching the way your eyes darted around as you started to put everything together.
“I was studying abroad in France the summer of my sophomore year in uni and the place I was staying at was right next to a perfume shop. I used to have this little routine where everyday after class I would stop by the shop and test out the little sample bottles, a new perfume each day until I found the one I liked.”
“Makes sense, so what’s your analysis?”
“The suspect is a male, early 40s. He’s careful, made sure to leave no witness or any pieces of evidence that could lead back to him. But this,” you pointed towards the girl. It’s like he wants to show off, like he wanted us to find her.”
“Why the hell would he want us to find her?”
“To show off. If he wanted to hide her he could’ve hid her or dumped her in the river like the rest but no. The bastard wanted to show off his twisted sense of sentiment, which explains the elaborateness. He’s also wealthy.”
“Wealthy? What makes you say that?”
“The perfume and the cologne. They’re priced at about half a thousand each. The dress is Armani which is close to a thousand dollars.”
“Jesus. Who the hell would spend so much on someone they’re about to kill?”
“Someone with a lot of money to spare.”
“What else can you make out?”
“Whoever did this……this man, sounds disgusting but I think he loved her.”
“People don’t exactly kill the ones they love.”
“Which is why he did all this, it’s……..his way of honoring her death.” You gestured to the flowers. “You see, he thought he loved her, most likely has a twisted idea of what love is. But no, this man was obsessed with her, obsessed with her innocence, which explains the color of her dress and the flowers, they represent innocence and purity. His obsession with her also explains why he fixed her up like this. See those faint markings on her throat?” You pointed to the barely noticeable purple markings that lined her throat. “He tried to strangle her, but didn’t have the heart to finish the job. He also could have stabbed her or shot her, but that would have ruined her….image, so he poisoned her. I have a feeling this was his first planned target. Probably saw her somewhere in public when she caught his eye, maybe walking home from school? But he didn’t want to get to her yet so he killed the other three to satisfy his impulses. He took care of her, in his own sick way. Made sure to use soft ropes that are somewhat gentle on the skin, fed her and dressed her, and adorned her with flowers as if she was some kind of taxidermy that needed to be prepped and displayed.”
***Trigger Warning Ends Here***
“That’s one hell of an analysis Special Agent y/l/n.” You heard someone behind you speak up.
“Sir.” You stood up, turning around to your boss, the special agent in charge of your unit, Jack Morgan. He was a tall, thin man of age 50 with scattered gray hairs that lined the ash blondes of his hair. A pair of clubmaster glasses sat on the hook of his nose, the bottom rims of the frame somehow disguising the dark circles that sat under his hollow eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
“No worries.” He waved you off with a polite smile sitting on his thin lips. “Any clue that might lead to identifying the suspect?“
"Not yet sir.” You shook your head. “I’m working on it. But I feel close.”
"Well. We better get this bastard in handcuffs fast before he does it again.” Jack nodded with his hands in his pockets before walking off to speak to one of the deputies. “Let me know if you find anything y/l/n.”
“Of course sir. I’ll let you know.”
“So what now?” Pedro turned towards you as the two of you walked away for a moment.
“I’ll look into the surrounding buildings near the school she went to including the ones around her home, see if there is a possibility he lives in one of them, or at least visits them and etc. I’ll also check into the local perfume retailers, see which ones carry the brands I mentioned and get a list of who had bought them. We also need to keep a lookout on any gardens in the area. He mostly likely has a garden set up specially for his poisonous plants.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll see what I can find too.” Pedro nodded before noticing the distant look into your eyes. "You okay? I know this case mustn’t have been easy for you.”
“It’s just…..a lot to take in you know.” Your shoved your hands into your pockets as you kicked the dirt at your feet. Your voice had a slight tremble in it as a shiver ran through your body. You couldn’t tell if it was the cold breeze or the crime scene itself that wanted to make you curl into your blanket and hide. But, you were also beyond furious, disgusted, and even scared, scared of what this asshole of a man was capable of. You couldn’t even seem to get yourself to stay still. Your hands and legs were itching to throw on a pair of mma gloves and go to the nearest martial arts club and go full force on a punching bag, kicks and jabs and all, maybe even throw the damn thing though the wall. Better yet, you wanted to find the fucking bastard that did this, maybe even beat his face in a little, use him as your punching bag before locking him up. But more than anything you were furious with yourself, upset that you weren’t able to find out who this sick fuck was.
“You think you’re able to…..you know.” Pedro nodded towards the corpse of the girl. Him and your boss were the only other people, or non-mutants rather, that knew about your past and what you could do, after all, it was Charles who had recommended you to them. After you were pardoned, they needed to know just who was coming in to work for them.
“I don’t know.” You faltered. “I’ve done it before with living people, but this, this is different. I’m a telepath, not a necromancer.”
“She was killed recently.” He noted as he followed the doubtful look in your eye. “Maybe there’s a chance some remnants of her……energy or…soul is left.”
You stared into the face of the girl for some time, your lips pursed in thought at the paleness of her face that was probably once radiant and full of life, now cold and lifeless and never again given the chance to do the things that most children her age will be given the chance to experience. Everything was stolen from her. You couldn’t imagine what the parents must be going through, to hear that their little girl was lying dead somewhere due to the hands of some murderous bastard serial killer. “…………I can try. See if it works. I just………don’t know if I’m ready for what I might see.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t to.”
***Trigger Warning begins here***
“No. Whether I want to or not is not important. But this,” you pointed towards the girl. “This is important. I need to be up close though in order to see if I can pick up on something.” You walked back over to the girl’s body once the forensics team had left, crouching down on the ground where she lay while Pedro kept a lookout for you to make sure no one noticed. You breathed in a heavy sigh, taking a few reps of deep and heavy puffs of air to prepare yourself for whatever horrors you might face before closing your eyes and hovering your gloved hand over her head. Your mother had the gift of sight, just like you, and she too was able to read the thoughts of those around her. But the visions she received were different than yours, she was able to see ahead into the further, of events that have yet to come. You tried to hone in on the advice Charles had taught you. Being a telepath himself, he was able to help you with a few things in order to harness your power, like reaching out for something that had meaning, something that invoked a strong sense of emotion in you. So you followed his steps.
At first there was nothing, just the sounds that were present to the mortal ear; like the gentle breeze that whispered through the leaves of trees, the sound of footsteps against the patches of grass and dirt and mud, the chirping of birds perched in the branches of the trees around you, and the few uttering of voices discussing a mixture of the mundane and subjects related to the case. There was a certain stillness in the nature around you that one would have thought to be peaceful had they not seen the corpse that laid amongst the grass, and the feeling of it twisted your stomach in words you could not explain. It was too sunny for a day such as this.
With another deep breath, you started to zone out your surroundings, cutting out the voices and the sounds of nature until you could hear the sound of everyone’s heartbeats, and then finally their thoughts. In the beginning, it was chaos. You winced against the many voiceless words that belonged to the minds of those around you, each one thinking of something different than the other. Step by step, you cut them out, focusing instead on the mind of the lifeless body of the girl that laid in front of you. You struggled, straining to see anything, hear anything, but there was nothing, just emptiness. Yet you pushed on, desperate to find something. Your brows were knit together at the center of your forehead from your effort, the strain you were inflicting on yourself causing a vein to pop out at your temple.
And then there it was, faint, and hidden in the depths of something beyond the physical, like looking at a screen or a mirage far off in the distance. So you reached towards it, focused all your strength on that faraway image. And then it hit you like a bus. You were engulfed with screams, screams that belonged to the little girl that completely enveloped you and pierced your ears. It felt as if these invisible iron chains had wrapped around you, pulling you closer into the depths of her mind. And that is when the nature of your surroundings had vanished and you found yourself looking through her eyes. There was this room, but all you could see was the ceiling, a white tiled ceiling with designs molded into each panel and a chandelier hanging from the center. Your arms and legs were tied, constricting you of any moment on what felt like a bed beneath you. A dark shadow moved from the side of the room, and that’s when you saw him, a face of a man hovering over you, the angle of the light casting a shadow on his face that made him resemble a demon with a sickening smile that stretched from ear to ear.
***Trigger Warning ends here***
You awoke from the vision with a start, your heart pounding and your forehead beaded with sweat as you struggled to breath, choking on the air in your lungs. You felt a warm liquid run down from your nose, the taste of copper filling your lips as a sickening sensation suddenly overcame you.
“Y/n?” You heard Pedro’s voice, muffled against the ringing in your ears as if a loud explosion had damaged them. You struggled up to your feet, the world around you spinning as you swayed with each step. You heard his voice call out for you again, but all you could focus on was your vision becoming more blurry by the second with each step you took as you tried to exit the area. After pushing past the yellow tape, you held onto the tree next to you for support, the throbbing in your head getting more powerful by the second. With a cold ice-like sensation washing over you, you doubled over and vomited onto the dirt in front of you before collapsing to the ground, your vision becoming black as you lost all consciousness.
When you had awoken, you found Pedro crouched next to you, his eyes trained on your face as he pressed a cold washcloth against your forehead.
“Ugh….” You groaned, shifting your body to notice that Pedro had sat you up against the tree. “Did I pass out? And please tell me I didn’t fall on my puke.”
“You were unconscious for a good two minutes. And no, you didn’t fall on your puke. You okay?”
“I don’t know. I got dizzy all of a sudden.”
“……….You saw something didn’t you?” Pedro had stopped, lowering the washcloth down to his side as his eyes searched yours, both out of concern and out of curiosity.
You stared at him for a moment with a solemn expression, the pain you had experienced through the girl visible in your eyes. “……….She was in so much pain.” You choked out. You wanted to cry, to scream, anything to make all that you felt go away. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t so much as shed a tear or else you would risk being taken off the case for involving too much emotion.
“…………What about the suspect?”
You looked away for a moment, recounting the things you had seen. “I……I couldn’t see his face. The room was dark. She was in so much pain Pedro.” You lied. Lied about not having seen his face. You had seen every detail of that bastard’s face, and it was everything you needed. You knew what you had to do.
Pedro nodded his head in understanding before listening quietly at what you had told him about what the girl had been through, his jaw clenched in anger. He felt guilty for making you preform such a task, believing that he had endangered you in some way. “I shouldn’t have put you through that.”
“No Pedro, it’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. I agreed to do it. It was to help with the investigation, to help catch this sick bastard remember?”
“You should go home.” Pedro gave you a regretful smile. “Get some rest. You look like shit after that.”
“You’re telling me.” You gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before getting up with a grunt as he helped support you up.
“Need me to walk you back to your car?”
“Nah. I’m fine. Thank you though Pedro.” You went back to your car, giving Pedro a wave as you went while he watched you go with a look of worry written across his dark olive skin. Something was off about you, and he had a gut feeling that you had not told him the whole truth regarding the vision you had.
When you returned back to your parked car, you took out your keys and unlocked the door, opening it up to get into the driver’s seat until a small piece of paper caught your eye, falling down right beside your feet. You stared suspiciously down at the dark gray rectangular piece of cardstock that looked to be a business card, seeing no print or writing on the side that was currently facing up. “What in the?” You muttered out, taking a quick glance around before dropping down to pick it up. The card was thick and smooth, of a matte finish, and felt heavy in your hands as you brought it up to your face. Small ridges lined the surface as you ran your thumb across the texture. Something about this card seemed off, causing the world around you to feel cloudy as an unnatural feeling started to form in the pit of your stomach. With trembling hands, you turned the card around to see a five letter word hand written across in maroon ink. A name. Laura.
series summary: Despite the bitter resentment of the crew, you found a home on Captain Barnes’ ship. But when course is plotted for a legendary island, the secret that has kept you alive for years is threatened to be revealed. Pirate/Siren AU
pairings: pirate!bucky x pirate/siren!reader
chapter word count: 5.5k
warnings: men are pigs,the carnal longing returns,
Council was Bucky’s attempt at a more diplomatic course of action. While he always carried the final decision, he preferred to hear the opinions of his crew before making a call on where the ship would journey next. His crew should have a say in the path that may take their lives, he’d reasoned; as if such a way of thinking were common amongst pirates. Bucky’s inclination towards something as dangerous as empathy seemed to be the least pirate-like thing about him.
Pointed stares burned against your skin as you followed Bucky to the deck where the rest of the crew were waiting – their gazes scolding into the bloodstains upon your palms, lingering over the line of curves along your hips. Always teetering the line between desire and resentment. Some murmured under their breath to see you emerge from the captain’s quarters, whispering taunts and snickers they did not attempt to hide. Reducing you to an image of the captain’s whore in frail efforts to shelter their own fragile egos.
They did not draw the same conclusion upon the fact that Lawrence had just left the captain’s private room himself not one minute earlier. You didn’t hear any demeaning rumors of his bedroom explorations.
I love pirate Bucky with all my heart!! He is such a strong leader but it’s obvious that he would do just about anything for the reader AH I literally want to like throw myself into this world! I can’t wait to see how her past will come into the story later and all the angst that come with that
You’d sound completely insane if you ever told anyone your greatest secret. Even so, you’ve often found yourself wondering how someone would react just on the off change that you did decide to share it with them. Would they laugh it off as a good joke? Scoff while telling you you’re an attention seeker? Hell, insist it enough and they might ship you off to an asylum.
To be honest, it hasn’t always been a secret. As a child, you were rather open towards expressing yourself and your inner thoughts, but of course, children are allowed to talk nonsense, aren’t they. Back then, people would just smile, impressed by your extremely detailed imagination and very ‘mature’ personality for someone so young. By the time you reached middle school, however, it was no longer cute to insist you don’t need school since you already have two PhD’s and will be eighty-four in the summer which, in your opinion at least, was far too old to be stuck with preteens gossiping about boy bands and wearing revealing shorts that barely covered their butts.
When the weird stares and hurtful mocking became apparent, you learned to keep your mouth shut and maintain the secret that you are two people at once…and no, this isn’t a case of personality disorder; you ruled out that conclusion by the time you were fourteen. No, this is a case of having been reborn again sixteen years after dying yet somehow maintaining all the memories your past life had experienced.
Beyond anyone else’s understanding and sometimes even your own, your story technically began on July 21st, 1919, in Richford, New York when you had been born as the second child and daughter of a far more modest Stark family. Your parents, ever so old fashioned, decided to keep with the 'H’ theme they began with your brother, naming you Hollie. As Hollie, you lived a wonderful life, having a fair share of both love and heartache before being murdered in 1974 which you honestly could’ve done without.
While death usually marks the end of most people’s stories, apparently good old Hollie Stark was too stubborn to go out after round one, instead deciding to come back as (Y/n) (L/n) in 1990; a life you’ve been living for the last twenty years now.
Despite how much you enjoy your life as (Y/n), it hasn’t been easy starting over again. You carry all the knowledge that comes with having navigated life once before and, with that said, the connections you had made as Hollie still hold strong within your heart yet remain high out of reach for someone as ordinary and young as (Y/n).
Regardless of whether others believe it, deep down you know that you are Hollie and long for the life that had been stolen from her throughout countless moments of her time. You miss your brother and nephew, you miss your best friend as well as the good you did together for the world, and most importantly of all, you miss your beloved James Buchanan Barnes; the man Hollie’s heart had been set on marrying only for the war to tear him out of grasp.
Most of whom you love are gone as are the exact opportunities you had as Hollie, but as you’ve come to stubbornly conclude, that doesn’t necessarily mean (Y/n) can’t try to follow in some of her footsteps, too.
“(L/n), he’ll be seeing you now.”
You stand to your feet with your resume folder in hand, bowing your head with a polite smile to the receptionist as you pass by into the office. While you’ve learned long ago not to ever get your hopes up, you can’t help but feel a bubble of confidence as you take another seat, eagerly prepared to start living your life where the previous one left off.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Director Fury. My name is (Y/n) (L/n).”
OVERVIEW: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinishedbusiness, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.
NOTE:Reader will use the name Hollie Stark and female pronouns during or when referring to past events, but will be use (Y/n) (L/n) and gender neutral for current events.
A/N: Okay, I am sorry this has taken so long. My hand and my brain weren’t cooperating, and this isn’t the most exciting chapter, and it’s a bit shorter, but ish is about to hit the fan. Just give it a minute. thanks for reading
Pairing: ex!Bucky x reader
Warnings: mentions of drug use, alcohol abuse, etc. Sexual assault (if this is something you can’t read, skip the italics, please. Take care of you first)
Word Count: 1582
After a near food fight at dinner time (both those super soldiers had it coming), and a night of nightmares, you wake up to the sun glaring in the window and Bruce clicking at his computer near your bed. You stretch, then sit up.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Bruce says.
“You didn’t. The sun did,” you say with a chuckle, gesturing toward the light glaring in.
“I can close the blinds?”
“Nah, I’m awake now.” He nods, then goes back to clacking on his computer. “How’s everything look, doc?”
“Very stable, Y/N. You are incredibly lucky.” He looks at you with seriousness in his eyes. “If we didn’t have Narcan, I don’t think we’d be having this conversation, Y/N. I don’t want to underemphasize how close you were to dying.” You nod, looking down at your hands. “Your meetings with Dr. Raynor will continue to be important as we move forward with your recovery.” You nod again, and Bruce goes back to typing on his keyboard. After a few minutes, he squats down next to your bed. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah,” you say, though you weren’t entirely convinced. Somewhere, still, in the back of your mind, you knew you’d run as soon as the Vivitrol wore off. But you didn’t say anything. Bruce nods, and starts unhooking the machine, shutting off the heart monitor and removing the pads from your chest.
It only takes a few minutes before you’re completely unhooked, your IV is out and you are sitting on the edge of your bed.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Please let Captain Rogers know that Y/N is ready to leave the med bay.”
“Yes, Dr. Banner.” He walks around the bed and helps you stand up, steadying you as your legs are weak and you almost fall. It feels good to be upright, though. You smile at him as Steve and Bucky walk into the med bay. Their eyes are on you, leaning into Bruce’s arm for support.
“You sure you’re strong enough?” Steve asks as he gets to your side. You just nod.
“Oh, I brought these,” Bucky says, moving to your side. He has a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, different from the last time. He hands them to you with a smile. “I figured you might like to get out of that very attractive gown.” You chuckle and stick your tongue out at him.
You change quickly, all the men turning around to give you privacy, much easier without all the cords and wires. Then, at last, with Bucky on one side and Steve on the other, you walk out of the med bay, hopefully for the last time.
They help you walk toward the elevator, then to the main living quarters. You walk with them to the couch in the living room before sitting down, shaky. Your walk exhausted you and you lean against the back and close your eyes.
“You okay?” Bucky says, squatting down in front of you.
“Yeah. Just a little tired,” you say with a smile, not opening your eyes.
“Okay. You rest. We’ll be here when you wake up.” He stands and leans across you to place a kiss on your forehead. Before he stands back up, he whispers, “I love seeing you in my clothes.” Butterflies flutter in your stomach and you try your best to not respond. He stands up and walks away. You sigh, trying to sink further into the couch.
Sometime later, you’re not sure how long or if you even slept, you wake up to the couch next to you shifting. You open your eyes to see Sam Wilson on the opposite end of the couch.
“Good to see you up and at ‘em,” he says with a smile. You smile back. “I know we haven’t really talked much. I’ve been busy with contracts.”
“I know. It’s fine. I haven’t been much fun anyways.” You try to laugh, but it sounds more forced than you like. Sam doesn’t laugh though. He leans back against the back of the couch.
“I knew Freaky Magoo would be there for you, anyways.” You snort at his comment.
“Freaky Magoo?” you ask, humor lacing into your voice.
“He does have a staring problem. You can’t deny it.”
“You’ve got a point, though.”
“Hey!” You laugh at the deep voice behind you. You shift to peek over the couch to see Bucky leaning against the island in the kitchen. He chuckles, then goes back to filling his water bottle. You glance back over at Sam.
“What are we doing tonight, boys?” You melt into the back of the couch and close your eyes.
“Looks like you’re going to bed, Y/N,” Sam says with a chuckle.
“Nah, I’m a real party animal.” As the words leave your mouth, you wish you could bring them back, but you shake your head. “That wasn’t funny.”
“It was a little funny, in a twisted kind of way,” Sam says, and you chuckle.
“I’m nothing if not a little twisted,” you all but whisper.
“Aren’t we all?” Bucky says, flopping onto the couch between you and Sam, instantly lightening the mood. You would thank him if he didn’t keep talking. “I say we watch a movie. We used to have movie nights all the time.” The boys talked about what movie to watch, and, at some point in the conversation, Steve came in, flopping on the other couch in the main room. You barely noticed him coming in, your eyes still closed.
“Okay,” you say, your eyes still closed. “It’s been a long time since I watched a movie.” As it turns out, it would be even longer, because, as the opening scene was playing on the huge TV, you fell asleep, your head slipping onto Bucky’s shoulder.
“Hey,” you vaguely hear, someone shaking your shoulder slightly. You groan, not wanting to move. “Y/N. Let’s get you in bed.” It’s Bucky, you realize but you push his hands away, making him chuckle. “Come on Sleeping Beauty.” He stands up, and you all but flop onto the couch as he moves. “You leave me no choice,” Bucky says, laughter in his voice. You feel his large hands under your torso and legs, and he lifts you up easily. You wrap your arms around his neck instinctively, and nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder. He hums softly, and his swaying footsteps lull you back to sleep.
Lights. Bright lights blind you. Bodies sway and bump into you and you can’t make yourself care. Sweat drips from your forehead, hair, down your back. You grind up against someone behind you.
“Let’s get out of here, baby,” a deep voice whispers in your ear.
“What do I get out of it?” you yell above the pulsing bass filling the room. A chuckle rumbles through the man’s chest, vibrating against your back still smashed up against his front.
“What about this?” he says, holding a white pill in front of your face. You spin to face him. You vaguely think you should ask what it is, but you don’t care, honestly. You stick your tongue out and the man places the white pill on your tongue. You swallow it easily. He grabs your hand and pulls you along with him, out the door, and onto the back of his motorcycle. You hold onto his torso as he weaves in and out of traffic, toward the skeevy apartment complex you both call home, his 3rd floor apartment only 2 floors below your own. It takes a few minutes, but soon, calm and quiet washes over you. The world around you melts away.
After he pulls up to the apartment complex and parks his bike, you all but fall off the side of it, your already short dress hiking up, and you giggle.
“Come on, baby,” the man says, wrapping his arm around you. “Want to have some fun?” He doesn’t even wait for your answer, all but dragging you up the stairs toward his apartment. By the time you get there, your legs are feeling like jello and you can’t make yourself care about anything.
“Here,” he says, running his finger up your thigh. You bristle at the touch, but he takes that to mean anticipation. You try to push him away, but he doesn’t budge. He places a small patch on the inside of your thigh, almost to your panties.
Almost immediately, your eyes roll back in your head and the only way to describe what you feel is euphoria. Everything in the room slips away into blackness and you welcome it.
Some time later, you aren’t even sure how long, you wake up, your dress pushed up and your underwear no where to be found. The man, Marco, your dealer, lays on the ground beside you, his own pants missing. You try to move, but pain shoots through your abdomen, and you realize all at once what happened. You realize you had been raped and you weren’t even conscious enough to remember it.
“Y/N!” Bucky screams, shaking you awake. Your screams still ring through the room though you don’t realize that you are still screaming. Tears fall down your cheeks and every inch of your body is shaking. “Hey, hey, hey,” he says, pulling you into his arms, and you try to push him away, but he doesn’t move. “I got you. You’re safe now.” You scream at him and his grip falters.“Let me go, please! Please!” He does as you ask and you all but fall off the bed and run into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.“Y/N!” Bucky yells after you, but you press your back against the door and slide down it, sobs wracking through your body. “Y/N, open the door please?” Bucky’s voice is sad at first, but he repeats himself over and over, each time sounding more and more frustrated. “Damn it, Y/N. Open the door.” He slams his hand on the door, and you scream in response. After a few minutes, you hear him sigh through the door. “Please, Y/N,” he all but pleads. You curl into your knees, your back still against the door. You feel the door shift and, for a moment, you think Bucky is coming through anyways. He could, easily, break the door, but it doesn’t move again, and you realize he is probably leaning against the other side. You hear sobs through the door, and yours start again.
A/N: In which we realize Bucky is an idiot, but a cute one, a truly dangerous combination. Hope you enjoy.
Pairing: ex!Bucky Barnes x reader, friend!Steve Rogers x reader
Warnings: mentions of drug use, alcohol abuse, etc., stupid, cute Bucky. Yes, it deserves a warning.
Word Count:
A few hours later, you wake up, stretching your arms above your head. You open your eyes to find them swollen and painful. You remember your breakdown earlier and groan, closing your eyes, rolling onto your side. You vaguely wonder where Bucky is, your bed empty, but when you open them, you see a different super soldier looking at you with a smile.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Steve says with a chuckle. You grunt, closing your eyes again. He laughs at your response. After a few minutes, you stretch again, dragging yourself into a sitting position.
“I think it’s afternoon,” you say, and Steve chuckles again.
“Have a nice nap?” he asks.
“Not really.”
“You sound like Buck,” he says and looks at you. “Sorry I haven’t been around much since you got here, Y/N. Fury has me doing some recon and I’ve been in and out with Sam.”
“I get it. There’s still a world to save out there.”
“Now more than ever, I’m afraid.”
“Yeah… I’ll just be glad to get out of this bed.”
“I bet. That’s actually what I came to talk with you about.” You look up at him and he’s studying you carefully. “Bruce says he thinks you’re ready to leave the med bay, at least that you don’t need constant monitoring.”
“That’s what Dr. Raynor said earlier,” you say with a nod.
“How do you feel about that?”
“You sound like Dr. Raynor,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I mean, I’ll be glad to leave. This bed sucks.” Steve smiles at your response.
“So, we uh… we talked about it, and we all think it’s best if you stay at the Tower. At least for a little while.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“That’s it? I expected more push back.”
“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Steve furrows his brow at your comment. “Even if I left, you’d come find me and drag me back. Why bother?” You lean back again, your head on your pillow.
“We’re just trying to do what is best for you, Y/N.”
“Is that why you forced Vivitrol on me, Steve? When I wasn’t even awake to consent to it?”
“Exactly, Y/N. You weren’t awake. You were in a coma because you overdosed, Y/N. I did what I thought was best.”
“And Cap always knows best,” you mumble.
“That’s not fair, Y/N.”
“Life’s not fair, Steve,” you snap, but your anger quickly disappears.
“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through, Y/N. I can’t even pretend to understand. But I just buried one friend. I am not going to bury you too. I am not going to…” He looks down at his hands. “I am not going to lose you again.” You swallow down the lump in your throat.
“I’m sorry I put you through all of this, Steve.” It’s your turn to look at your own hands, your fingers threading and unthreading through each other.
“And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” You look up at him and his eyes ring with sincerity.
“You tried to be. That’s on me. How many voicemails do you think you left me? Probably 1000,” you said with a smile. He laughs at that.
“Probably more like 10,000. I am sure you got tired of hearing my voice.”
“Never,” you say with a smile.
“So, we have your old apartment ready for you. Bruce still wants you to come check in daily, to monitor your heart. He just wants to make sure there’s no long-term effects.” You nod, listening. “There’s going to be some ground rules, Y/N. We can’t do this again. You can’t do this again. No alcohol, at least for now. Bucky, Sam and I all agreed to keep it out of the Tower so it’s not even here to tempt.”
“You don’t have to do that, you know. I’m a big girl.”
“A big girl with some impulse control issues,” he says with a smile. You stick your tongue out at him, and he laughs. “Just for now. It’s probably better for all of us anyways.” You nod. “You’re not going to be alone for a while, Y/N. One of us is always going to be around.” You roll your eyes.
“Is that really necessary?” you ask.
“For now, yes. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I can’t do it and I know it would kill Buck too. We’re your team, and for now, we’re all in this together.”
“That was very cheesy, Captain.” It’s his turn to roll his eyes with a chuckle.
“You’re like a little sister to me, Y/N. I’m here for you. Always.” Steve’s words ring with sincerity, typical Steve Rogers. You hear someone knock on the doorframe, and you look up to see Bucky leaning against the door.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, a smirk on his face.
“Nope. I think Steve was going to confess his undying love, though. You might want to stick around.” You watch as a blush spreads across his cheeks and chuckle. You look back over at Steve, who is now standing beside your bed. You smile at him. He leans down to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes at the contact. He pulls away and brushes your hair out of your face.
“I’ll be back later.” You nod, and watch as he walks out the door, pausing to whisper something to Bucky before leaving. Bucky nods solemnly before walking around the bed, scooting his chair so his knees are, once again, pushing against the edge of it.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice sincere.
“Fine,” you say with a chuckle. It wasn’t until it was pointed out that you realized you do say it a lot, even when you aren’t fine. Bucky chuckles as well.
“Well, I… uh… I wanted to talk to you, about some of the stuff you mentioned earlier.”
“We really don’t have to, Bucky.”
“I want to. I feel like I need to say this.” You nod, knowing the feeling of needing to say something. Needing it out. He clears his throat before beginning.
“I… uh, when Steve got me out, I didn’t think I was worth it. I did so much damage… There was no way I could ever do enough good to tip the scales in my favor. I knew it was going to be hard to convince everyone I was worth it, but you, uh, the first time I met you, you never looked at me like that. When Steve told me about you, about your goodness, I couldn’t imagine why you’d ever side with me. You went against Tony, the only father you’d ever known, to protect me. And I, uh, I knew I wasn’t worth that.”
“But you were, Bucky. You didn’t do any of that stuff. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know that now, but you sided with me over Tony and I, uh, that meant something to me.” His words echo your own from earlier that day. He looks over at you. “I don’t think you realized that you became important to me, and I wasn’t even sure why. After we came back to the compound, and after I got to know you better, you became my whole world. My whole world revolved around you.” You watch his eyes fill with tears. “The day I realized something was wrong, that you were too edgy, too… I don’t know. You’d sneak off to your room and I knew something was wrong. That day was one of the scariest of my life because I didn’t know how to help you.” A tear slips out and runs down his cheek.
“When you shook in my arms, telling me that you needed help, I knew I couldn’t walk away. You were it for me. This was it for me. If I had to hold your hair back and hold you through the withdrawals every day for the rest of forever, I’d do it because it meant I could be with you.” You feel a tear sleep down your own cheek. “And then you got better, and the first time I saw you smile sober, the first time you laughed, it was like I could see the sun for the first time. And even then, you chose me. You chose me completely sober, and that meant something to me.”
“The closer we got, the more I fell until it felt like a freefall. I was terrified that I’d hurt you. I was terrified that I would break your heart and we’d end up… well, we’d end up here. So I never told you. We were friends and I knew that was going to have to be enough. I’d suffer for the rest of forever if it meant I’d have you in my life, even if just as friends.”
“But it wasn’t your job to keep my heart safe, Bucky.” Your words are barely above a whisper.
“Isn’t that love, though? Putting your happiness over my own?” Quiet settles over the room. After a few moments, Bucky continues. “When you introduced me to Sarah, she was nice. She’s like you, in some ways. Not in the important ways, but she was enough. She wanted to be around me and in my twisted up in knots brain, I thought she was my ticket to keeping you around. Your two best friends dating would have to be a good thing.” You close your eyes. You hadn’t thought of it that way.
“And I know now that it was stupid. I should have at least told you. But I was afraid that you’d leave…” He lets out a sad laugh. “So, I tried to distract myself. Distract myself from you with her. And it worked, for a little while. When we talked about it, you told me you were happy for me. That you wanted me to be happy and I wanted to scream that you’d make me happy, but I knew that would be selfish. And then you left. You didn’t even say goodbye. I just got up one day and your room was empty… Steve told me you left. That you didn’t want to see anyone for a while. And I always kind of thought you’d come home. That you’d come back to me…” You look up find him watching you closely.
“It broke me.” The words hang in the air for a minute, dread and guilt steeping into your stomach. You look down at your hands.
“Then, I, uh… She wasn’t you. I spent some time in cryo in Wakanda and they helped me to, uh, they got rid of the code words. And then Steve showed up. I expected you to be with him. He hadn’t heard from you, though, and I fought like hell because I wanted this world to be better for you, wherever you were. I wanted you to be happy.”
“Buck…” you whisper, but he continues.
“When I woke up and found out it had been 5 years, my first thought was of you. I almost showed up at your apartment. I found you and Steve talked me out of it. I wish now that I did. I wish I could have stopped it…”
“It’s not your fault, Buck. Not totally, anyways. It was always my choice.”
“You keep saying that, but it was, my fault I mean. I made stupid choices when your heart hung in the balance.” You can’t argue with him. He was stupid, but you know now that it hurt him too.
“When you walked it to Tony’s house, it was like the world stopped spinning, or it started again after being stopped for years. And then I saw it. Your shaking, your sunglasses, your stumble, and I knew. It was like before, and I was just as scared as last time. I moved my eyes off of you for 1 minute, and then you were gone. And if I had just watched you walk away… if I had just stopped you…”
“Hey, it’s not your fault, Bucky. It’s really not. I was… uh… I was overwhelmed by a lot of things. Tony was gone and I didn’t even get to say goodbye because I was too high to come visit. Honestly, that day, you were one of the furthest things from my mind.” He lets out a sad chuckle, but continues to look at his hands. “Hey,” you say, grabbing his flesh hand in your own. “I’m okay. I’m here because of you.”
“And Steve,” he mumbles.
“My boys have always had my back,” you say with a smile. He gives you a half-hearted smile. “And don’t tell Steve, but you’re my favorite.” You wink at him and Bucky laughs.
“I missed this,” he whispers, squeezing your hand with his own.
A/N: We’re all going to pretend that the timeline works, k? It’s like.. an AU if that helps you haha We’re going to meet Dr. Raynor and learn more about the past and there’s actually some cute fluff at the end, but please don’t get used to it ! So, anyways, enjoy!
Pairings: ex!Bucky Barnes x reader, friend!Steve Rogers
Warnings: conversations about drug use, alcohol abuse, rape, etc., conversations with a therapist, some cute Bucky fluff (because yes, that needs a warning haha)
Word count: 2222 words
After a few days, most of your withdrawal symptoms have subsided. You still feel whispers of nausea whenever you eat, but even that is getting better.
“Doctor Raynor is coming to see you today,” Bucky tells you one day when he brings you your breakfast. You look at him.
“Who is Doctor Raynor and why is she coming again?” You don’t remember him ever mentioning a Doctor Raynor before.
“She’s my shrink. She had to rearrange her schedule to come see you and I expect you to take it seriously.”
“I don’t need a shrink Bucky. I am fine.” You roll your eyes at him.
“You overdosed, Y/N. That’s kind of the definition of not fine.” He sits beside your bed, eating his own breakfast. You grumble, but it’s no use arguing. Bucky is one of the most stubborn people you’ve ever met.
An hour or so later, Steve brings a kind, but stern looking woman into the med bay. You look up as she walks in and Bucky nods to her. He stands up, but pauses, looking down at you.
“Be nice, Y/N.” You chuckle but he gives you a serious look.
“Best behavior. Scout’s promise.” He chuckles at your answer, then follows Steve out, leaving you and the doctor alone in the med bay.
“I am sure James has told you all about me.” You almost bristle at her use of James but try to suppress it. You nod at her statement though. “I’m here to talk about the circumstances of your overdose.” You chuckle.
“You and everyone else, it would seem.” You fold your hands in front of you and look down at them. The woman walks around the bed toward the chair Bucky usually sat in.
“May I?” she asks, gesturing to the chair. You nod and she sits, though she does scoot it back before doing so. “So, Y/N. Tell me about yourself.” You laugh out loud.
“Can we skip that part? It’s not the important stuff anyways. You want to know why I’m an addict.”
“I didn’t say that, Y/N. You did.”
“It’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it?”
“Actually, no, I wasn’t. I was thinking that you were someone with a lot of pressure on your shoulders and who doesn’t have anyone to share the burden with.” You look up at her. “Am I wrong?” You look away for a minute before looking back at her.
“You’re not wrong.” She nods.
“Let’s jump into the important stuff then. Why do you push everyone away?”
“Would you believe me if I said that I didn’t push them away? That they left?”
“The hundreds of missed calls from Steve Rogers over the past 7 years would say otherwise, but sure. Why do you feel that way?” You sigh.
“My parents died when I was young. I grew up in foster care, passed from family to family when they realized I wasn’t the perfect girl they wanted. I got out when I turned 18 and ended up with the wrong crowd. But you know all that, I’m sure.” Dr. Raynor chuckles, but doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “I bet you didn’t know that I almost got myself killed when I was 19 because I picked a fight with someone bigger than my own size, and that’s how I met Steve. He swooped in like a hero and rescued me but realized that I wasn’t going to stop. He saw something in me, the stupid foster kid with no sense of self-preservation and brought me back to the Tower. I met the Avengers and Tony kept me on as an assistant, but I managed to weasel my way into a few missions, proving that I could fight just like the rest of them.” Dr. Raynor nods, taking notes on her little notepad as you talked. She looked up at you expectantly, but you don’t continue.
“Where do the pills come into play?” You chuckle at her question.
“Started out innocently enough.”
“It usually does, Y/N. I have never met someone who woke up one day and decided to be an addict.” You nod at her comment.
“I got hurt and the pills helped. I realized, though, that as much as they helped with the physical pain, they helped with the emotional pain. I guess you could say I needed a shrink a long time ago.” It’s Dr. Raynor’s turn to chuckle at your comment.
“How long did you use that time?”
“A few months. Bucky was living here by then and he is the one who noticed it.” You feel a pang of sadness, but hope you hide it well. “Got me through the detox and I was fine.”
“Fine. You use that word a lot for someone who deals with such intense emotional turmoil, Y/N.” You chuckle.
“Yeah. I figure if I say it enough, I’ll start to believe it.”
“The fact that we’re here should tell you something about that thought process.” You chuckle again.
“You’re not wrong.”
“So what happened this time? Your doctor, Dr…” she looks down at the notebook in front of her. “Dr. Banner said it had been 4 years of using at the time of your overdose?” She looks up at you expectantly. You nod.
“Uhm, I mean, the blip happened and I got some help with an old back injury. I almost didn’t fill the prescription. I think I kind of knew this would happen.”
“Why did you then?”
“Uhm, I’m not.. I mean, I think I wanted a break for a little while. Thought I could handle it. But it went from bad to worse and here we are.”
“People don’t use like you did for 4 years and get out of it alive, Y/N. You mentioned the blip. What about the blip pushed you to this?”
“Bucky.” The word slips out before you can stop yourself and you sigh. The doctor writes something on her paper.
“What about Bucky?”
“He was gone.”
“And you were still close when the blip happened?”
“I mean, no. I hadn’t seen him in 2 years when the blip happened.”
“Why not?”
“Just drifted apart I guess,” you said quietly and you’re pretty sure that Dr. Raynor doesn’t buy that, but she doesn’t say anything more about it.
“What escalated you to an overdose?” You thought back.
“It was a lot of little things, I guess. It took more and more to make myself forget. I needed more pills, or more alcohol. I did everything I could to get rid of myself and the dreams, and the pain and all the rest of it. And then…” you trailed off. Dr. Raynor just waited patiently. “I was, uh, I was raped.” The words come out quietly and Dr. Raynor nods beside me, writing something else on the paper in front of her. “Everything kind of spiraled from there.” You look down at your hands.
“That loss of control must have been very difficult for you.”
“I deserved it.” She furrows her brows.
“Why do you say that?”
“I mean, I was the one who was high. I did that. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Were you able to consent to what was happening?” You look up at her. She is looking at you expectantly.
“I don’t think so, no. I couldn’t have told you my name let alone anything else.”
“Then it was rape, and no one deserves that. Ever.” Her words are firm, telling you there is no room for argument. “No matter how drunk or high you are, you deserve autonomy over your body.” You look at her, tears filling in your eyes. You reach up and rub them away harshly before she talks again. “I would like to continue meeting with you, Y/N. If you’d let me.” You nod, not looking at her. “I know this is difficult for you. You’ve learned that those who you allow in leave, and that makes trusting me difficult. But you don’t need to worry about me leaving. I am here as long you allow me to be.”
“Thank you,” you mumble. Dr. Raynor stands, and you look up at her.
“You’ll get through this, Y/N. I already know you are a strong young woman, and you will get through this.” She smiles at you, before walking around your bed, stopping at the doorway. She turns back to me. “I’ll see you in a few days.” You smile at her.
“I’ll see you then,” you say, and she nods, walking out the door.
It’s a few minutes before Bucky enters the room again, walking back around to his chair, scooting it back up to the bed, his knees pushed against the side of it.
“So how was Dr. Raynor?”
“She didn’t run away screaming so I guess that’s a positive.” Bucky laughs at your comment, and you would listen to it every minute of the rest of your life and never get tired of it. You blush at your thought and look away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice. If he does, he doesn’t mention it.
“Bruce says you are almost ready to get off these machines.” You look over at him and he’s studying you.
“That’s good,” is your lame response.
“You would have to stay in the Tower.” You nod, not surprised. It would be months before they would trust you enough to move back into the City. If ever, you realize, and the same cagey feeling from before returns with a vengeance. You look over Bucky’s head, out the window behind him. He turns around, looking in the same place. You sigh.
A while later, you wake up from a restless nap. The longer you are clean, the more the nightmares return, and you wake up to a sad, knowing smile from Bucky. You rub your eyes and stretch and open your eyes to him holding up a hoodie and sweatpants.
“What’s that for?”
“I’m breaking you out.” He has a smile on his face, but you are just confused. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Put these on.” He tosses them on top of you and turns around, even covering his eyes with his hands. You laugh but move to stand up. You get the sweatpants on easily, but, after getting your hospital gown off, you get tangled in the heart monitor cords and IVs and everything else connected to yourself, the hoodie over your head awkwardly. After a moment of trying to untangle yourself, you sigh.
“Bucky, I need help.” He turns around quickly, but you watch a blush spread over his cheeks as he sees you in your bra, the hoodie over your head awkwardly. You blush, too, but Bucky gets to work untangling you from the wires and cords, and, with every brush of his fingers, cold or warm, on your skin, you curse at the reaction your body has to the super soldier. Finally, though, you are untangled from the cords and wires and the hoodie covers your torso. You look down at it, realizing it is a Brooklyn hoodie. You know then that it’s Bucky’s and your cheeks heat up again.
“Ready?” he says, the blush finally leaving his cheeks. You nod and try to stand up. Your legs are shaky, but you steady yourself. Bucky places his hand gently on the small of your back, probably trying to help steady you, but the contact makes your knees weak again. You fall forward and his arms are around your waist before you fall to the ground. He pulls you against him, steadying you. You mumble a thank you into his chest, and curse yourself for your antics, but you feel at home in his arms. After a few seconds, Bucky looks down at you.
“You good?” You nod and he releases your body, hands staying close to make sure that you are steady. You smile at him after a moment, nodding and Bucky grabs onto one of the hospital poles beside your bed. You realize it has a small heart monitor and your IV bag on one pole, telling you that Bruce at least knows about your adventure. Bucky walks slowly beside you as you walk toward the elevator. Once you, Bucky and all your equipment are in the elevator, he pushes the button to take you to the roof. You look up at him with curious eyes, but he just smiles at you.
After a few moments, the doors open, and you see the sunset across the horizon. The Tower is tall enough that you can see for miles in any direction, and you feel the warm air on your skin for the first time in weeks. Bucky smiles at you and takes your hand in his own, walking you toward the edge of the building where he has two chairs and a small picnic set up.
“You didn’t have to do this, Bucky,” you say as you sit in one of the chairs. He smiles at you.
“I know, but I wanted to. I know how it bothered you to be locked inside and you needed to eat anyways.”
“Thank you,” you say, your eyes filling with tears again. Bucky smiles and nods. You look back out at the sunset, the sky filling with all kinds of bright colors and your stomach filling with butterflies.
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.”
I am no longer maintaining taglists, my friends! Please follow @box-of-bones-library and turn on notifications to get updates about new fics, chapters, and drabbles! thank you!
#4 was requested for Bucky by a few people, sadists… :p
The Things We Do For Mexican Food
“Natasha, my good woman, my good friend, my favorite Avenger…”
“I’m not giving you money.” She said immediately.
“How did you…”
“We just walked past a taco truck and you patted your pockets, swore loudly and turned to me. I didn’t even have to use my finely honed skills to figure that one out.” She said, shaking her head fondly at you.
Summary: When you’ve reached your wits end with your husband, you decide to make a deal with Death to get rid of him.
Warning: public sex, mentions of death, mentions of domestic violence and bruises, manipulation, public nudity, dom/sub dynamics, rough actions, explicit language and sexual content.
A/N: I don’t have anything to say for myself about this one, it is purely a self indulgent piece and it was plaguing me, especially after I saw this picture at the bottom. I’m not sure the origin of it, so if anyone knows, please let me know so I can credit them. Thanks to @sweeterthanthis for fueling my thoughts as always and to @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog for looking this over for me❤️ All mistakes are still my own!
if you’re a minor, please DNI!
Please do not repost, publish or translate my work. Reblogs and comments are appreciated! Thank you for reading :)
The slip they given you to change into for your audience with Death, barely covered anything, the lace trim brushing against your mid-thigh. You rubbed your bare arms as you followed the buff guards down the dark hall way. Every direction you looked was pitch black, adding to the dread building in your stomach. A shiver crawled up your spine at the thought of what might be lurking beneath the darkness.
You were second guessing your decision to seek out Death. A bargain that you couldn’t come back from. How big of a sacrifice would he ask for? Would it be worth it? Yes . A 100% yes. You’d do anything not to go back to your husband and you knew this was the only way to truly be free.
The hallway opened to a cavernous room. A banquet full of food lined the right wall. The only light in the room came from the plethora of candles scattered around, some hanging from sconces on the wall, giving an eerie feel to the already creepy room. There were various creatures, some humanoid, others other worldly.
You curled into your self as several of them looked at you hungerly. What kind of feasting they wanted to do on you, was hard to decipher. You continued forward towards the huge dais at the center of the back wall. The monstrous throne sat there, appearing to be made of bones and melted metal. It was beautiful in a morbid way. But it wasn’t what truly caught your attention. The hooded figure sitting upon the throne was hard to tear your eyes away from. You couldn’t see his face, the shadow of the hood obscuring it, but you felt his eyes on you. A long nimble finger tapped the armrest in time with your steps as if to lure you closer. He shifted, crossing a long leather clad leg over the other. His body seemed to lean forward but maybe it was a trick of the light.
“Kneel.” The guard standing beside you commanded in a booming voice. You froze, not comprehending his words.
“W-what?“
“I said kneel,” He roared. A large hand slammed against your back, shoving you forward. It shocked you, knocking you off your feet before you could catch yourself. Pain radiated through your body as your palms slammed onto the hard dirt floors.
You stayed put for a moment, trying to focus on anything other than the way the little rocks dug into your knees. The guard grabbed your hair and yanked you up until you were sitting on your heels. Tears burned in your eyes, threatening to fall.
“Have some respect girl. Death doesn’t deem everyone worthy enough to appear before him, ” The guard hissed. You nodded, swallowing nervously. He released you and you placed your palms on your thighs, keeping your head down.
“Crawl to me.” The hypnotic, warm voice come from beneath the hood. Your body wanted to react before your brain even caught up. Not wanting to be punished, you began to crawl towards the massive throne, stopping only when his buckled boots were in your line of sight.
He lifted up his foot, the hard toe hooking beneath your chin, forcing you to look up. You could barely make out his face, but somehow you could feel his eyes boring into you, assessing you, seeing right into your soul. The dirt beneath your palm was the only thing keeping you grounded, digging your nails into the firm surface.
It was keeping you from panicking. This was the wrong thing to do. “Why are you here? What is it that you require of me, darling?” The voice that came from beneath the hood was velvety and smooth, wrapping around you like a snake snaring its prey. Another shiver ran up your spine, forcing his boot to push into your throat. “Speak or I’ll way get find another to it out of you.”
You fought to compose yourself, taking a deep breath "I would like to make a deal, "The tone of your voice barely above a whisper. Yet he heard you, giving a slight bob of his hood. "Stand up.” Unlike the command to kneel, this was softer yet so much deadlier. You scrambled up and stood with your hands clasped in front of you. “Good girl. You follow orders well.“ He reached his palm towards you as if asking you to grab it.
Not wanting to upset anyone further, you placed your clammy hand into his open palm. A rush of something ran over you, a tingling sensation racing up your arm. It made your thighs clench, the thrill of power coursing out of him, exciting you just as much as it frightened you.
He tugged you forward until you were forced to climb onto his lap. You were straddling, one of his thick thighs, the firm muscles pressing hard against your core. You feel the instinctive need to grind down, find some relief.
He pulled your arm around his neck, your other hand resting on his broad chest. His musky scent was so seductive and inviting, pulling you into a trance. Anything he asked, you wanted to comply. No matter who was watching. The room was full of people yet the only thing you could focus on was the entity before you.
“Please.” was the only word you formed. Death leaned forward, his hand coming up to cup your face, running his thumb over your bottom lip. In a slow motion, one that built your anticipation, he pulled his hood back. Your breath lodged in your throat and you wondered if he kept the hood on to hide his beauty.
His face looked like it was sculpted by a Renaissance artist. The hard, strong lines of his jaw, his perfect nose, his pink plush lips, his long hair sleekly swept back into a bun. Everything about him was perfection. However it wasn’t the main thing that drew you in, it was his eyes. Stormy grey-blue eyes, filled with such strong emotions brewing within.
You had leaned into him without realizing it, so close you could feel his breath fan your face.
“What do you want, angel?“ He said softly.
‘You’ was almost what you blurted out, managing biting your tongue at the last second. You drew a deep breath, sitting back to take space to think.
"My husband -” you started and he arched a perfect eyebrow, “- he’s not a good man.”
“I can see that,” He said, snapping his fingers and glancing down your body. For a moment you were going to ask what he meant when you felt the cold breeze on your bare skin and you realized you now sat naked on his lap. Shocked, you quickly covered your chest, and peered over your shoulder at the room full of people. Some were averting their eyes whereas others ravenously took in your backside.
A warm hand came to rest on the curve of your ass, fingers slowly trailing up the length up of your spine. “Don’t worry, none of them will touch what’s mine,” The last word lingered in the air between you.
“But my husband - “ Death placed a finger to your lips, silencing you.
“Is wishing he wasn’t alive right now. A slow death for a man who decided to mar such perfection.” His hand slid from your lips, lightly ghosting over the large bruise spanning down the left side of your ribs. “How often?”
Every day,” you hissed as your words caused him to dig his fingers into the bruise on your lower back. The sound of pain snapped him out of his anger and he released his hold. In slow precision, he leaned around you to look at your back. He let out a rough growl and snapped his fingers.
A man appeared beside the throne and you tightened your grip on your chest. Trying to keep some level of modesty “Steve, make sure that there’s some salve in my room. I want these bruises gone."
“Yes sir,” Steve said and disappeared with a loud pop. He turned his attention back to you, his
gaze tender for a moment before shutting down.
“I’ve given you what you want. Now how do you plan on returning the favor?“
You froze. It hadn’t crossed your mind that you’d have a choice in the matter, assuming he’d tell you what you now own. “What’s your usual fee?”
"My usual fee,” he said, gliding a finger on your collarbone, dipping downward. Your arms fell away willingly. His eyes darkening as your breasts bounced slightly, “My usual fee, darling, is a bit steep for you.”
You gulped, fearing for your life for the first time that evening. You chastised yourself for being so entranced by Death that you overlooked the dangers. "W- what? What are you saying?”
He leaned in close, lips hovering over yours, “I’m saying you’re mine now and you’re going spend eternity repaying me.”
Dread and excitement flood your body. There wasn’t anyone to tie you back to your old life, now that your husband was gone. Nothing to make you want to beg for your old life. But you were also afraid of what eternity entailed. You tried to swallow past the lump in your throat, “And what would I have to do?”
His hands cupped your breasts, kneading them softly as he pondered his response. A strand of hair fell into his face, free from the tight bun at the nape of his neck. You caught it between your fingers and tucked it behind his ear. He looked at your face, trying to pull a reaction out of you. A soft moan bubbled out of your lips as he toyed with your nipples, pinching them.
“I want to be you mine.”
“So I’ll be Death’s whore?“ you said, the crass words tasting sour on your tongue. He released your soft mounds, grabbing your waist instead. You were tugged closer, chest to chest with him. His hooded robe falling open to reveal his bare chest, light dusting of brown hair atop his pecs. Your eyes shut as your nipples brushed against them.
His nose brushed yours, eyes locked on you when you opened them again. He leaned in, kissing you softly. Melting into the kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck. It was invigorating, like something was coming alive within you. His groan vibrated through his chest, and he pulled back, sucking on your bottom lip, "No, you’ll be my Queen.”
His words made you feel a rush of warmth and safety. Something you hadn’t felt in a while
You grabbed his face and kissed him hard, shifting so your thighs bracketed his. He grabbed your ass, guiding you onto the hardness in his leather pants. The tight laces rubbed against your clit with each rock of your hips. He made sure to swallow every desperate sound you made as if he was savoring you. You slid your hands beneath his cloak, feeling the firm planes of his torso.
Your finger traced over his hardened nipples causing him to buck his hips. It was so easy to lose yourself in him, forgetting the fact that you were in a room full of people.
"Tastes like the forbidden fruit. So sweet.” he groaned, trying to press you closer. Meld you into him. His lips continued down your neck, nipping at your collarbones.
You arched your back, moaning loudly as Death bit your hard nipple. “Oh god, feels so good.”
He released you with a pop "Bucky,” he growled, “My name is Bucky. Don’t give my credit to the other guy."
"Bucky,” you whispered. He nodded smugly before returning his attention to your chest.
The desperate throbbing between your thighs was growing unbearable. You wanted him, craved him. Maybe he was using his magic to make you feel this way but you didn’t care. The urge to be filled steadily increasing with every brush of his lips on your heated skin. Your hands roamed his chest, eventually settling on his muscular shoulders. Your nails dug into the supple skin, needing to channel the overwhelming pleasure rushing through your body.
This was like nothing you’d felt before. It was almost like he was worshipping you. Bucky bit hard, on the top of your breast making you keen. Your head falling back, in ecstasy. The sound echoed in the grand hall but that didn’t matter. Nothing in this moment mattered but him.
"I’m going to leave you covered in marks. Ones made from pleasure. The only kind you’ll ever have again.” Bucky muttered into your skin. You grabbed his hair, pulling him up to look at you. His eyes swimming in pure lust so strong that if you were standing, it would have knocked you off your feet.
Warmth pooled in your abdomen and you were suddenly tired of being teased, of feeling empty. “Bucky, I need to feel you,” you whined. The remaining ring of color disappeared as his eyes turned black. Hunger and lust bleeding into his features.
“Then take me out, darling. Take what you want,” Bucky’s voice was gravely and rough, scratching down your skin like claws. Mechanically you obeyed almost in a trance, your hands dipping down to undo the laces of his pants. It wasn’t long before you watched as his length sprang out from the space where the laces opened.
It was bigger than anything you’d seen before. Thick, throbbing veins ran down the velvety shaft. The head, meaty and red. Small bump-like notches stood out in rows on all sides of the cock. Making the already exceptional girth even wider.
There was a nagging voice in your head that told you that it would never fit. That there would be no going back once you did this. None of it made sense and you didn’t have the need to push past the cloud of lust in your brain. Instead, you grabbed his cock, reveling in the throbbing warmth as you pumped a couple of times.
An animalistic need washed over you and you lifted up, hovering over him before you sank down in one quick motion, without a second thought. A long loud wail came out of you as you were stretched out to accommodate him. He felt almost bigger once inside you. Red alarms of pain blared in your head, overshadowed only by the need and the pleasure of having him inside you.
"Fuck,” Bucky groaned, "Doing so good for me. I’m so proud of how well you’re taking me. So fucking tight.
He was right, with his large width, he felt almost locked in you. It was like he was all the way in your stomach. You looked at him with wide eyes, scared “What’s wrong Baby? Did you get too greedy, too fast?”
You nodded, tears lining your eyes. You taste the pleasure looming so close to the edge but now you were too attuned to reality to try to reach it
Bucky’s grin was cocky as he lifted you up your hips. effortlessly before slamming you down on his cock. Repeating the motion until your juices were completely coating him. You let out a string of whispers with every movement, felting like you were being torn in two every time. The pain slowly morphed into pure uncut pleasure and you found yourself, rocking your hips.
His name was the only thing that made sense to you, and the only word you repeated, endlessly moaning it. The small bumps caressed spots you didn’t know existed, and with every nudge of your cervix, you swore you saw stars. Your head felt too heavy and you fell into him, burying it in the crook of his neck.
His teeth sank into your shoulder with a rough snap of his hips, truly blurring the line of pain and pleasure You were going to cum, the inevitable wash of it over your body was building up quickly. Bucky licked over the bite mark and kissed his way up your ear. “You close, baby? You want me to fill you up?”
You clenched down hard, head lifting up, body arching. "Yes! Fill me up please!” You screamed, almost delirious with pleasure. Bucky let out a dark chuckle. Grabbing the back of your head, he smashed his lips to yours. The sloppy kiss was all teeth and tongue. His hand slipped between your bodies, thumbs finding your clit. Pinching it hard. Your orgasm shattered through you, turning your vision white.
Your walls fluttered around him, tighter and tighter until he snapped. And your cunt began milking him for every drop of cum. You felt it shooting in you in long hot spurts. Seemingly endless. It was so much, you could feel it beginning to come out the sides of his cock, where he was still attached to you.
Heavily breathing, you burrowed into his hold, feeling his arms wrap around him. He stood up, his cock still nestled inside you, and he began to walk out of the cavernous hall.
“Shh baby, I got you,” He reassured as you hissed at the way the notches shagged at your opening with each step, “Can’t lose a single drop, I want to see you nice and round. Almost there.”
You were barely conscious by the time you made it to your destination. Slipping in and out as he laid you on the soft bed and tucked you in, cleaning you up a little before crawling beside you. Bucky tucked you into his side, a kiss on your temple and you felt the bargain fully snap into place
You were his.
“It’s a shame that I had to poison your husband to such a brink of insanity. I’m sorry he hurt you. But that had to be done, otherwise how else would you be mine?“
His words began to sink in the fear fueled your attempts to wiggle away. He tightened his hold, locking you in place "What did you do?” you cried.
"Only what needed to be done. ” he promised, “I wanted you and I’d have stopped at nothing to get you.”
Warnings:My blog is 18+ and though there’s no smut in this piece, minors DNI. Domestic abuse, break up, humiliation, mutual pining, friends in love, drink driving, car accident, coma, chasing justice/vigilante attitudes, fairy tales, Disney, fluff, lots of angst, anger, guilt, happy ever afters
Prompt: Fairy tale
A/N: So this is my contribution to the 500 follower writing challenge hosted by @tom-whore-dleston It’s a new one for me because I’ve had to use a fairy tale for this one. So I’ve tried to use the fairy tale to feed into a modern situation and at the same time reflect that the same fairy tale has importance to the reader. Sleeping Beauty is an important one to me as the first feature length Disney cartoon I watched, and I was in awe of it.
This hasn’t been beta read and all of my mistakes are my own. Please feel free to like, comment and/or reblog as I look forward to feedback and interacting with people who choose to read my work. I appreciate you all. I hope you enjoy it.
She was Steve’s. The point being ‘was’. Where was he now as she lay in the hospital bed in a coma? She was Steve’s but he never really cared for her. He picked her as the perfect smoke screen and made everyone believe he was in love. She was Steve’s, it was the excuse that always stopped Bucky from admitting his true feelings for her. She was Steve’s, the line she repeated in her head like a mantra even though she didn’t love him, she loved someone else and was terrified of Steve. She was Steve’s until he decided it was right for him and Peggy to go public by breaking up with Y/N via a Snapchat post, not even a one-to-one message but a post of him and Peggy while saying ‘Y/N, I got myself a real woman’ and it was posted for all to see. She was Steve’s no longer and was fighting for her life after a drunk truck driver careered into her car.
Bucky hadn’t left her side, the symphony of beeps from various machines stopped the silence creeping in and forming negative thoughts and nightmares of worst possible outcomes in his mind. She couldn’t die, he couldn’t lose her. She was his safe haven in a world that had become darker than he’d ever anticipated. Nat and Sam walked into the room and sat with Bucky. Nat handed him a cup of coffee from the nearby coffee shop instead of getting the mud in a cup from the hospital vending machine. He accepted it gratefully with a swift nod and looked back over to Y/N. She looked like she was peacefully sleeping. Blissfully unaware of the situation she was in, you could be forgiven for thinking she was in a complete state of calm. Sam placed a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder.
“Buck, you’ve been here since the accident happened three days ago. You need to go back to the compound, get some sleep” he advised. Shrugging him off with a light scoff, he took Y/N’s hand in his, rubbing her fingers softly with his thumb.
“If she wakes up, I need to be here for her” he insisted.
“What good to her are you if you are too tired to function?” Sam spoke quietly.
“Sam’s right Bucky, you need to sleep. We’ll be here if she wakes up. Sam will call you straight away as well” Nat offered seeing the pain in Bucky’s eyes. The internal fight to stop tears flowing because she looked helpless and fragile.
“But I should be here” Bucky tried to push.
“I know she’s your best friend, but she’d understand that-”
“You don’t get it Sam, she’s not just my best friend, I love her Sam. I’m in love with her!” he kept his voice low, but it was strained as though he was arguing. Sam’s eyes panned. He was about to speak when Nat walked over to Bucky.
“Buck, listen to me, what would Y/N tell you to do?” she asked firmly.
“To… to go home and sleep,” he sounded defeated and shook his head, “fine, I’ll go” he conceded, “but you must call me instantly if she wakes up” he instructed. Nat agreed and sent him out to the waiting car to be taken home.
Nat sunk down on the chair in the corner of the hospital room. Sam was still processing Bucky’s words. How had he missed it?
“You know it was obvious right” Nat said laughing at Sam’s inability to realise Bucky’s feelings towards Y/N were deeper than he’d anticipated. “She’s in love with him too, but she thinks he doesn’t see her that way”
“She was with Steve though” Sam countered looking even more confused.
“No, he coerced her into a relationship where he was bullying and abusing her. The trouble is no one wanted to say or do anything to stop it except Bucky. Even I was at fault there. She needed us and we let her down. I mean don’t you remember the quiz night Tony held with us where we were in teams of two and had to answer questions about each other to see who really was a perfect match” she chuckled at the memory. Sam’s smile spread across his face as he recalled that night…
Tony sat back looking all smug as yet another duo failed to get more than 10 out 15 in the ‘How Well Do You Know Your Partner?’ game. In all fairness he was teamed with Pepper, but the others were teamed with friends. Bruce and Thor did pretty well achieving a solid 10, Wanda and Vision got 11 and Nat scored 11 with Clint. Sam was teamed with Rhodey and scored a 7. Originally Y/N wasn’t going to play. Steve was off on yet another ‘solo’ mission (a jaunt to Peggy’s) but everyone convinced her to take part and she agreed to work with Bucky, her best friend. She leaned into him, putting her face on his shoulder as she laughed uncontrollably at Peter scoring 5 with T’Challa. It was almost as bad as the 2 Y/N scored with Steve last time they played. Tony rubbed his hands together all excited as he sat forward.
“Y/N do you and Tin Man actually think you’ll beat mine and Pepper’s score of 13?” he was so confident. Y/N and Bucky looked at each other with a smile.
“We’ll give it a shot Tony. Friday has our answers and is ready to reveal them with each question asked”
“Let’s make it interesting” Tony beamed. Bucky looked at him with confusion.
“What do you have in mind?” Bucky quizzed.
“If you score higher than me and Pepper you will win two thousand dollars. If we have higher than you, then you and Y/N will be responsible for dinner for everyone for a whole week” he offered.
“You’re on” Y/N grinned.
Question after question was fired, each one was a correct answer. Question 10 came and went, then 11 and 12 all correct. Nat was enjoying her role as quizmaster for the couple and witnessing the faces on others as the responses kept coming back with a ‘ding’ from Friday.
“Question 13 – if going on a date, what physical preparation is made to show they expect sex?” Nat’s words were met with ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahhhs’ knowing this was quite an intimate ask. Silence fell upon everyone as they looked on at Y/N and Bucky. They were deep in thought and glanced at each other. Bucky’s lips curled into a cocksure smile as Tony waved them off with a scoffing laugh thinking there was no way they’d equalise.
“When Bucky goes on a date and is hoping to have sex he puts on extra cologne, brightens his teeth and ensures he has brand new underwear that doesn’t look like it’s got that washed and owned for a while look” she revealed.
“Friday?” Nat called for clarification. Friday dinged again and showed Bucky’s written response that was almost word for word. Bucky now needed to respond with the right answer to get the 13th point.
“Y/N will wear black underwear” he answered simply, watching her blush. As Friday dinged yet again, Tony’s eyes widened in shock as some of the other Avengers were equally as surprised. This wasn’t necessarily something all best friends knew.
“Question 14 – what would you want your wedding song to be?” Nat questioned.
“Bucky would pick Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller” Y/N didn’t even waste time and her reaction was met with Bucky letting out a laugh as he pulled Y/N to him and placed a kiss on her forehead. Friday confirmed the answer and Bucky divulged Y/N’s being From This Moment by Shania Twain. Y/N’s grin was so bright knowing he’d got the answer. They got to the last question and were currently 14 for 14. Steve stormed in interrupting them and demanding Y/N go with him. He was shouting at her saying she was an embarrassment. Dragging her away from everyone, people heard Y/N begging Steve to stop hurting her wrist. Her bruises the next day were proof that he stopped hurting her wrist and hit her elsewhere leaving her with a black eye and bruised ribs. She didn’t spend time with the rest of the Avengers for the next few days. Bucky had caught a glimpse of her and had a confrontation with Steve which ended up in more bruises for Y/N. Bucky’s heart was heavy with guilt and pain. He loved her more than anything and this was killing him. What he didn’t realise is that every tear she shed, every prayer she made was to let her out of her hell with Steve so that she could find some way of spending more time with Bucky and telling him of her feelings. With each passing day, new strike and inky bruise, she feared the day would never come…
Bucky tried to sleep, he tossed and turned in his bed. He knew that he’d promised to rest but he couldn’t get his mind off Y/N. Lying on his back, he rested his forearm over his eyes. The thin white bedsheet clung to him like a second skin as it sat over his legs and waist. He was angry at Steve. Angry at himself and angry at the drunk driver who only came away with a few scratches and a fractured finger while Y/N was in a coma, had suffered a ruptured spleen and a broken leg. He hated seeing her in pain, any kind of pain. She’d been through enough at the hands of Steve. He remembered seeing the bright smile on her face when Steve broke up with her. He was furious that Steve did it in a way to humiliate Y/N, but she just grinned at Bucky. He was trying to hide his fury at Steve. Y/N’s smile melted his heart but what disintegrated his tension were the words she whispered when he hugged her. She simply stated ‘I’m finally free’. How could he not be happy for her when she was relieved to be free from the violent clutches of Steve. It made him think of how she spent that night. Everyone was rallying around her in absolute concern.
Y/N sat on the sofa in the community lounge just flicking through a magazine as Wanda and Nat came in and sat either side of her. She looked from side to side at the women who were like Cheshire cats with the way they were grinning at her.
“You should come out with us tonight” Wanda suggested.
“Why?” Y/N asked slowly.
“After Steve’s actions, you need to get out there, show him what he’s lost out on” Wanda was trying to ensure Y/N wasn’t going to crumble, worried that Steve may have had some emotional hold on her.
“Or just have a good old-fashioned night out with the girls” Nat chimed in trying to steer the conversation away from Steve. Y/N closed the magazine and put it on her lap as she sighed.
“Nat, Wand I love you both. I really do but I’m fine. All I want is a night in, just relaxing watching a movie or something in the knowledge that everything is my choice” she explained to them. Disappointment flashed on Wanda’s face while Nat accepted Y/N’s response and patted her hands supportively to let her know they were there if she needed them. As they left Y/N to it, Bucky entered the room and joined Y/N on the sofa, he put his arm around Y/N, and she put her head on his shoulder.
“So what’s the movie choice tonight sugar-plum?” he asked.
“You can pick it, or we can watch the game tonight. It’s the Ravens versus the Falcons and you know I’m a Ravens girl” she chuckled.
“Game it is, I’ll order the pizza” he informed her. It wasn’t long before Sam and Clint joined them and were cheering the Falcons. Bucky couldn’t help but taunt Sam as he had to pay Y/N fifty dollars when the Ravens won. The conversation among the four of them drifted to cartoons and Disney, with Clint declaring how sick he was of Frozen. Likewise, Sam was fed up with Toy Story as his youngest nephew seemed to love watching it over and over. They then started talking about their first Disney film. Bucky revealed it was Snow White and he took Rebecca to see it, he was fascinated by the animation while Rebecca was in love with the story of a hero saving the day. Sam divulged that his was the Fox and the Hound and that, as a kid, he was convinced that the Owl was voiced by his auntie. Clint expressed his love for Robin Hood and proceeded to sing the theme tune that Y/N and Sam joined in with, reminiscing over the classic. Y/N then sat back and told of her first experience watching a Disney cartoon. It was Sleeping Beauty. It remained a favourite of hers because she felt that Aurora and Prince Philip had been destined to be together. He saw her when she was a baby, then met her in the woods where they sang and danced together. It was a love at first sight kind of thing and then he risked his life to rescue her. Bucky intently listened observing every little gesture she made. He felt butterflies at seeing her so free, so happy and so involved in a group chat. The dark cloud that once hung over her had been lifted and this was the true Y/N shining in front of him. He knew in that moment he would have to tell her how he felt. He didn’t just love her as a friend, he had fallen helplessly in love with her. But as fate would have it, the day he was planning to tell her was the day he received the news of her car accident…
Nat and Sam had sat by Y/N’s bed, nothing had changed. The machines beeping were like harpies screeching as they fought to take the life of their victim. Sam hated sitting there and knowing nothing could be done. He checked his phone and looked over to Nat.
“The driver has been released on bail. He is claiming that he was drinking to numb the pain of betrayal and heartache and that Y/N was driving erratically as he hit her. Andy has sent me the details of the guy” Sam spat with disgust. Nat almost twitched at the news.
“When Bucky gets here, I have something to take care of that you might want in on” she informed him.
“Does it involve dealing with this asshole?” Sam raised his phone indicating the drunk driver.
“Time for you to learn the art of creative termination Sam. Sometimes it needs to be done” her icy tone was enough to scare most people. Coupled with the look of hate in her eyes, Sam knew there was no talking her out of it. She loved Y/N like a sister and seeing Y/N in the state she was in was killing Nat.
Bucky arrived at the hospital again, he looked refreshed but felt disheartened by the lack of news regarding Y/N’s progress. He watched Nat and Sam leave and pulled the chair right up to the bed. He sat down and clutched her hand in his and began to tell her the story of Sleeping Beauty in hope that she might wake up. The doctor had told him that talking to Y/N would help because studies showed coma patients could hear people talking to them. He felt his heart lurch as there was no real response. He knew what he had to try. He had thought about it non-stop on the way to the hospital. He got up and sat next to Y/N on the bed. Holding her hand in his, he took a deep breath as he gazed down at her. Even in her fragile state, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Y/N, I don’t know if you can hear this. I… I… I hope you can,” he stuttered. “The day you were brought in here I… I was planning to tell you something,” he took a deep breath as he paused. “You see, ever since I’ve been back from Wakanda, you’re the only person who really goes all out to make time for me. You have spent time getting to know me and have become my best friend. I can’t and don’t want to ever imagine a life without you in it,” tears pricked the corners of his eyes at the mere thought of her no longer being around. “I remember watching you talk about Sleeping Beauty; you were so carefree I just wanted to kiss you and tell you how much I love you. And that’s the thing Y/N, I’m in love with you” the lump in his throat could be heard as he could no longer stop rogue tears from rolling down his cheeks; he sniffled and tried to wipe his tears away before continuing to speak. “The way you bite your lip when nervous, the way you softly smile and tilt your head when you’re listening to me talk after a nightmare, the way you hug me and reassure me when I’m having a panic attack, the way you kneel down and talk to children putting yourself at their level to make them feel at ease, your never-ending compassion and the time you make for all of us. It’s all those little things and more that I love. I’m sorry I didn’t do more to protect you from Steve. If you wake up and if you’ll have me, I’ll spend the rest of our lives together showing you that you are my princess and how much I love you. Just please, please wake up. I need you Y/N” his tears flowed as he bared his soul to the unconscious woman.
He leant down and placed his lips on hers in a tender chaste kiss. As he sat up, he observed her. Nothing. He knew he was being irrational hoping it would make a difference but the romantic in him had to try. That’s when he felt it – a slight twitch of her fingers. It happened again and her eyelids began to move, immediately Bucky pressed the button to call for a nurse. Rushing in, the nurse saw what was happening and called for a doctor.
He paced the floor waiting outside her room. He tried not to get his hopes up. He’d read of several cases where a patient would seemingly wake up but end up having a fit before their heart would give out. He wasn’t one for praying but he prayed that this wasn’t the case. He began to overthink it all. What if she could hear him but not being able to respond would result in a said fit and heart failure? What if he’d just killed the woman he truly loved? His mind was ruminating over the same thoughts over and over until the doctor came out.
“Sergeant Barnes” he enquired to get his attention. Bucky rushed to him instantaneously. The doctor could see all the questions and fear in Bucky’s eyes that he was struggling to manifest into words. “Y/N is awake and is asking for you. Her voice is rather weak, be patient with her. Give her some time as she is trying to make sense of things. The nurse is making her comfortable. Is there anyone I need to call?” he asked as Bucky’s face was awash with happiness.
“I… erm Wilson, Sam Wilson or Natasha Romanoff” he fumbled with his words anxious to see Y/N. The doctor nodded at him and let him into Y/N’s room.
She was propped up against the headrest. She looked weak but as she saw Bucky, her sunshine smile lit up the room. He sat next to her on the bed facing her. Their gaze was locked, and she nodded at his unspoken question as to whether she was ok.
“You’re… you’re awake” his voice almost a whisper.
“Because of you. I heard you Buck, I felt the kiss and I love you too, so much. Whenever Steve would drag me away, I just wanted to be with you. Safe in your arms. You are my everything Bucky” she croaked. He clutched her hands and kissed her knuckles before leaning towards her and kissing her with restrained passion so that he wouldn’t hurt her given her current health status.
“I love you Sleeping Beauty” he beamed, the love in his eyes just radiating.
“I love you too Prince Charming” she responded in kind as Bucky promised her that he’d make sure they have their own happily ever after.
“Hey sweetheart,” a smooth voice, thick with emotion, drifted over your shoulder. His shadow covered your body and you breathed in his familiar scent.
“James Buchanan Barnes. Good to see you finally made it to the gym,” you turned, giving the former winter soldier a smile. His chuckle made your ears heat up. “I was here this morning. Where were you, beautiful?”
You scoffed. “Flattery won’t save you from this beating.”
Predictable, slow, easily deflected - Bucky was always teasing you for your fighting style. So when you challenged him to a sparring match, the man had to try his best not to laugh. You, on the other hand, were more determined than ever. This fight was yours.
“So,” he began wrapping his flesh hand, “no handicaps? You want the metal arm off to make it easier?” His joking tone was driving you up the wall. All you wanted was to show this pretty boy that you were as strong as any Avenger, and that thought alone kept your jaw from clenching.
You chuckled back, keeping your expression calm. “I can handle some metal.” You stared, watching his fingers work, until he was finally done and ready to take you on.
You stepped onto the mat, bouncing on the balls of your feet. He walked forward, shoulders squared and stance wide. You brought your fists up to your face and waited, studying.
He lunged forward throwing two quick punches. You side-stepped, throwing your back leg into his chest. His hands came down lightning fast, grabbing you by the knee. He laughed.
“Still so predictable, dollface.”
Your jaw worked in frustration as you attempted to maintain balance on one leg. Bucky could almost hear the wheels turning. He thought back to all the time you both spent on these mats, sparring until bruises formed. Recently he had been worried. You were spending less and less time in the gym with him, making him think his teasing had landed one too many blows.
Little did Bucky know but you were spending your time with another Avenger on the mats.
An idea finally came to mind and you braced yourself, taking in a strong breath before launching off your free leg and wrapping your thighs around Bucky’s neck. He hit the mat in shock, releasing your knee and giving you more leverage to choke the massive man out.
You squeezed your legs together with all your strength as your sparring partner tried to escape your hold. Finally, you felt the two taps of victory on your thigh and you released Bucky from his cage, coughing and sputtering in irritation.
“That’s a Widow move!” He gasped in surprise. “Yep.” You let the word pop, unable to contain your smile. You skipped over to your gym bag and gleefully unwrapped your knuckles, basking in the irritated gaze of Bucky Barnes.
“You cheater,” he whispered.
“Sore loser, huh champ?” You smiled, tossing the bag over your shoulder and sauntering out of the gym.
Summary:You’re a HYDRA assassin that’s worked closely with the Winter Soldier, to each of your dismay you’re reunited with Bucky after the blip.
A/N:SMUT! This was supposed to be plot but it’s genuinely just smut and fluff oops. Enjoy it while it lasts because its about to get so fucking sad lol. Anyways thanks everyone for being so supportive towards the series!
“You speak about (Y/N) in a very loving way. Did you ever have a physical or romantic relationship with her?” Bucky’s therapist questioned.
He paused. That part of his relationship felt private to him. It felt like only he and (Y/N) should know. It was never about anyone else, no one else had ever known what they had. He didn’t feel at liberty to share.
“It’s not something I want to talk about.” He avoided eye contact as he replied.
“Why is that?”
“After SHIELD and HYRDA’s secrets were leaked to the world, it felt like everyone could get their hands on whatever information they wanted about me, (Y/N)’s information too. The stuff we shared with each other is the only private life I have left. I don’t feel like telling anyone about it.” Bucky explained. Dr Raynor nodded comfortingly. As much as she wanted too, she didn’t push it.
Moscow
2013
Your tits were shoved up against the cold concrete wall of the shower. Bucky’s cut abs were pushed into your back, his hands firmly holding your hips in place as he buried his cock into you. The warm trickling of water down your nude frame only heightened your senses to what was happening in your core. Bucky’s grunts were muffled by your sharp moans.
“Holy fuck, baby!” You groaned, feeling yourself tighten around him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” One of your hands held against the wet wall in front of you, and the other clenched Bucky’s real hand at your waist.
The dark pit in your stomach was winding into a tight knot, an influx of little stars pecked at the corners of your vision. Bucky was relentless, he had worlds of stamina and was stronger than he realised.
You squeezed your eyes shut as you let your orgasm pulse through you. Bucky felt your knees weakening, his hands held harder around your hips to keep you in place.
“Please don’t stop,” you whined,
You could practically feel the smirk on Bucky’s lips, “want me to speed up, darling?” he growled, thrusting himself harder inside you. You unravelled on him, your abdomen tensing while your eyes squeezed shut. Pure bliss pounded through your veins while you came all over Bucky’s thick member.
A string of curse words fell from your mouth, stifling Bucky’s deep grunts.
He slowed down as you mellowed from your high, gently pulling his cock out of your core. His hands on your waist turned your frame to face him.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He murmured, his lips falling down to connect with yours. The kiss was tantalizing and smooth. Bucky’s hands softly trailed down to your plump ass. He swiftly lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.
One of your hands moved to tangle your fingers into the hair at the back of his head, pulling it slightly to move his face away from yours. He smirked at you, taking in your gorgeous features. Your other hand slipped between your bodies to wrap around his length, it was slick with your wetness. You jerked it slowly, watching Bucky bite down on his lip.
You lined him up with your entrance and he pushed himself inside. You let slip a heavenly moan.
He began slowly thrusting again, his hands firmly gripping your as to hold your body steadily up against the shower wall. His member pushed deeply inside you with every movement Bucky made. You clawed against his shoulder blades, his body now pressed tightly up against yours.
You knew you were close again, the knot in your stomach never having the chance to unravel. Your walls clench around him, your legs shaky and tense.
“Fucking hell,” you groaned, arching your back against the concrete. Your head fell back with closed eyes, not being able to focus on anything other than the sheer ecstasy pulsing through your body with every thrust.
Bucky was close too, but you knew he wouldn’t finish until you did again. He took pride in knowing how intensely he could pleasure you.
Your moans echoed through the shower, still encapsulated by the rich feeling of hot water falling along your body. Without warning, you let go. Your hands grabbed at Bucky’s muscled back, your body shaking and tightening as your high hit you like a wave. You couldn’t even think, all you could feel was euphoria. Bucky didn’t hesitate, his pounding thrusts became sloppy and uneven, his fingers clenched hard against the delicate skin of your ass. With one last growl he filled you up, his toned figure tense against yours.
You both took a moment, heaving breaths in time with each other. Your hearts racing at the same pace. He would no doubt recover before you could.
Bucky moved first, slipping himself out of you and gently lowering your feet to the floor. His velvet lips left a trail of kisses across your sensitive collarbone.
“Come stay with me tonight.” You painted, your fingers tangled into his wet, dark hair.
“If we get caught-” Bucky began, speaking against the rich skin of your neck,
“How would we get caught? We’re two of the stealthiest assassins in the world.”
His head dragged up to meet yours, his gaze focused on your delicate, pink lips.
“Well, when you put it that way,” he smiled, leaning in for the hundredth kiss of the night.
~
The early amber sun seeped through your blinds like fresh honey through beeswax. It softly pulled you from your peaceful slumber. You couldn’t help but listen to the soft snores of the man next to you. Bucky took up most of the bed space with his huge frame. You cuddled up next to him, admiring how the light entangled in his brunette locks.
Bucky lay sleeping on his stomach, his real arm stretched out to rest over your nude body. He looked comfortable with the duvet pooled around his waist. You’d crept in on him in his room a few times before, he’d always be sleeping on the ground, with nothing but an old blanket. It didn’t seem like something he wanted to talk about, or something he even knew how to talk about. He’d always just say his ‘bed was too soft’. But now, in your bed, he was content.
You shuffled your body closer to his, watching him as he stirred slightly. He didn’t seem ready to get up. Rolling onto his side to face you, you were able to snuggle into his warm chest. His arm instinctively embraced you, his huge frame engulfing yours.
You’d never felt the need to feel safe, you always carried weapons, you were highly skilled, immensely trained. No one in their right mind would try anything on you. But Bucky, your snowman, he made you feel secure. He finally made you feel like you had something worth living for. It was such an obscure feeling to you, it almost felt daunting. Like you finally had something to lose. You wondered if this is what love felt like.
“Stop thinking.” He grumbled, his morning voice raspy.
“That’s difficult when I have such a big, smart brain.” You giggled, your hand moving to push a piece of his long hair from his face.
“Yea, I love that big, smart brain.” He replied, his large hand moving down your back to squeeze your ass.
You looked at his resting face, his eyes hadn’t opened yet. His soft features remained relaxed while his hand stroked along your back.
“Did you dream last night?” You pondered, quietly.
“No.” He replied, remaining in his position of rest. “Did you?”
“Mhm,” you started, “I dreamt about the ocean.”
“Was it a good dream?”
“Yea. I could smell the salty water, and feel the hot sand. It was loud, the crashing waves seemed violent, but it was peaceful. I’ve never been to the beach though,” you rolled over slightly to stare at the ceiling. “Darling,” you added, “have you ever thought about escaping?”
This pulled Bucky’s eyes open, “escape?”
“Escape from this life? Leave HYDRA, be normal people.” You explained, barely above a whisper. Letting your thoughts fall onto the sheets.
“Do you think you can be a normal person?” He inquired.
You paused. All you’d known your whole life was HYDRA. All you’d ever done was assassinate and infiltrate. You’d never had to a cook a meal, do taxes, mow a lawn. But the human part of you always wanted too.
“I guess not.”
Bucky looked over at you with soft eyes. “I don’t remember being a normal person either.” He added, as an attempt at comforting you.
“Were you ever a normal person?” you questioned,
“I think so. I think I lived in New York for a while. Sometimes I have patchy memories about what I think was my old life, and my old friends.” He cracked a faint smile.
“Did you see her much after that mission?” Dr Raynor asked Bucky. She seemed interested in (Y/N).
“Yea. I saw her in passing a few times. She spent a lot of time at the base I was at. Sometimes I’d be out of cryo for weeks on a mission. That’s when I saw her the most.”
“What did you do together?”
“Played card games, trained together, built weapons, I taught her how to snipe. Normal shit, I guess.” It felt strange thinking about it all. It felt like a different lifetime to him.
“I guess that is somewhat normal for trained assassins. Did you tell her anything about yourself? After she explained her story, did you reciprocate that?” His therapist questioned.
“I couldn’t. I didn’t really remember that much about myself. Everything I knew was wiped, I was pretty much a blank slate. I couldn’t even tell her my name because I didn’t know it.” Bucky shrugged.
“What did she call you then?”
“She gave me a nickname. Snegovik. It means snowman in Russian. She thought it was hilarious, because I was the Winter Soldier. If anyone else called me snowman I would’ve snapped their necks, but when she did it-“ Bucky paused to think, “It felt nice.”
Moscow
2012
“What’re you doing, snegovik? (snowman)” You placed yourself down at the table opposite Bucky. He looked up at you, his pale blue eyes gazing into yours. You noticed Bucky started looking differently at you as you spent more time together. Instead of a look of hostility or annoyance as he gave to everyone else, it was a gentle look. A look you would give birds dancing in a fountain on a warm day, or a look you would give the sun as it rose so smoothly over the snowy mountains.
“Reading.” He shut the file laid out in front of him. The maroon file had a black HYDRA symbol resting in the middle. It was his next target.
“I haven’t had a case in weeks. I’m bored out of my mind. Do you wanna go to the firing range with me?” You queried. The HYDRA base you were currently stuck at had one of the largest firing ranges down in the basement, with a very fun collection of weaponry.
“I know what we can do. Let’s go snezhinka. (snowflake)” Bucky pushed up against the table to stand, he grabbed his file and walked off. You quickly followed behind.
The two of you ended up in a large room full of dark grey lockers. It was an empty, dusty smelling room. Not many agents or assassins resided at this base so it was mostly desolate.
Bucky pulled a few lockers open, his metal fingers clanking against the steel lockers. He tossed a large coat towards you. It was black with a soft fur lining the hood.
“Put that on.” He demanded.
“Are we going outside?” You asked, tossing the coat over your shoulders and zipping up the front.
“Mhm.” Bucky pulled his sniper rifle out of a locker. It was already put together. He grabbed a small, red box of ammunition and an extra scope. He walked off again, he tended to do that.
You waltzed off behind him.
“Don’t you need a coat too?”
“No. I’m the snowman, remember?” He smirked back at you. Bucky didn’t smile very often, you always tried to savour the moments that he did.
The two of you exited the compound through a side door, it simply led out into the snowy forest. He began walking out into the snow, along a path he’d obviously walked plenty of times before. The large pines that inhabited the forest were covered in a layer of thick snow. The reminisce of grass and flowers barely poked through the large sheet of white on the ground.
Bucky’s path guided to a small, wooden sniper nest. It was an old sniper range that used to be for protecting the base. As more enhanced people began showing up, HYDRA moved to using giant concrete bunkers instead.
Bucky threw down a thin, dark green blanket and lay down on his stomach. He quickly set up his sniper rifle and adjusted the scope.
“Lie down.” He asserted. You complied, lying down on your stomach next to him. There was nearly no room between your bodies, the sniper nest seemed like it was only made for one. His body radiated heat like a fire. So much for snowman, you thought. Bucky lined up the spare scope and passed it over to you.
“Look through that.”
You stared through the small scope, it showed a few trees over two kilometres away. “What am I looking for?” You asked, quietly.
Bucky didn’t reply. The sound of the silenced sniper announced, and a single pinecone burst into pieces. You turned from the scope to look at the man next to you. “That was 2,000 meters away, holy shit.”
“2,248 meters.” He added, lifting the sniper to sit in front of you. “Your turn.”
“I told you, snegovik, I can’t snipe. I’ve never been good at it.”
“I’ll teach you.” He took the spare scope from your hand. “Get nice and close to the gun, your shoulder should be up against this part,” he motioned to the back end of the rifle, you shuffled so you were in place, “look through the scope,” you did as he instructed, “and here,” his hand grabbed your wrist, the cool metal of his fingers burnt against your hand. You didn’t know much about how his metal arm worked, but he seemed to have amazing control over it. He was so gentle as directed your hand to a dial near the scope, “use this to adjust your sight. Take it to 500 metres out, we’ll start off easy.”
You adjusted the scope. 500m. You agilely moved to line up with a large pine cone resting on one of the giant pine trees.
“Deep breath.” Bucky said lightly, “fire.”
Your finger snapped down the trigger and the bullet flew. Bucky watched through his own scope as the bullet hit its target.
“I did it!” You announced,
“You’re not as bad as you thought.” He smiled, “go further out and try again.”
You and Bucky sat in that tiny sniper nest shooting pinecones for hours.
~
Bucky left early that morning for his mission, leaving you at the base by yourself for a few days. You spent most of those days shooting and you spent your nights combat training. Unsurprisingly, you’d developed some severe insomnia. In your line of work it wasn’t uncommon. Kraken didn’t want you to take any sort of sleeping medication that the HYDRA doctors suggested because he was afraid it would affect your work ethic. He wanted you staying sharp. Arguably, running off no sleep didn’t have you very sharp.
It was another regular night. 2, maybe 3 in the morning, you were in the gym, giving everything you had to a black punching bag. Your bandaged knuckles were feeling the force with every blow. You tiring body felt shaken under the strenuous training you were putting yourself through.
“It’s a bit late for this, snezhikna.” A deep voice announced from the entrance of the gym. You turned to see a muscular figure. He was covered in black clothing, only revealing his face and his large metallic arm. Not many people were able to sneak up on you, except Bucky, he always could.
“How was the mission?” You returned to your punching bag.
“The target was eliminated.” You heard the faint sound of his boots approaching. By the time you spun around he was directly behind you. “Let’s spar. It doesn’t look like that bag’s putting up much of a fight.”
He moved towards the thin gym mats. You watched as he adjusted his arm, each metal part whirring into place. You unravelled your knuckles, standing on the mat opposite him. The two of you stared in silence for a moment, the tension between you hung like a heavy, black smoke. A vicious grin flicked along your mouth and you began.
Punches were met with dodges, kicks were defended with blocks. You ducked, grabbed his metal wrist and pinned it behind him. He adjusted and threw your body over the top of him. You landed hard on the ground. He smiled. You whipped around and caused his legs to fall out from beneath him. He fell, and you quickly moved to throw your legs around his neck. He lay on the ground in a choke hold between your legs. You didn’t apply too much pressure, just enough to stop him from moving.
“Nice job.” He grunted. Just as you thought he would tap out, he grabbed either side of your waist and twisted you so he was able to free himself from your legs. You scrambled to get off your back but Bucky was too quick. His muscular legs had your ankles pinned down and his metal arm had both of your wrists over your head. It clicked into place and held you pinned to the ground.
You’d never felt weak in your life, you were skilled, strong, smart. But Bucky sitting above you like this made you feel so small.
“How can I tap out if you’re holding my arms?” You joked.
Without a moment’s warning Bucky lowered his head and pressed his lips against yours. Everything about Bucky was harsh, rough, and cold. But his kiss, it was gentle and sweet.
You kissed back without hesitation, his metal arm relaxed and your hands tangled into his messy hair. He unpinned your legs and you instinctively wrapped your thighs around his waist. His soft, real hand caressed your waist, holding you as if you were fragile china.
He didn’t touch you with his metal hand. He used it to hold up his weight. He never barely ever touched you with that hand. He never knew how strong it really was and he didn’t want to accidentally hurt you. Ever since you’d told him his hand was cold, he’d been much more cautious with it. You were the warmth in his life. He didn’t want to mess that up.
“Snegovik, we can’t do this here.” You smiled up at him, your hands held gently against his cheeks, his stubble tickling your palms.
“Let’s go then, my snezhinka.” He carefully picked you up and led you out of the gym.
Summary: You’re a HYDRA assassin that’s worked closely with the Winter Soldier, to each of your dismay you’re reunited with Bucky after the blip.
A/N: I haven’t posted in like 300 years, but I hope you guys enjoy this new series! This follows parts of TFATWS so expect spoilers! (Also I’m sure all the Russian is absolutely wrong, if you’d like to correct it please send me a message!)
Word Count: 1,815 (future chapters will be wayyy longer)
“So tell me about this-” the therapist looked down at her notes briefly, “(Y/N).” She finished.
Bucky paused momentarily, “No.”
“James, for these therapy sessions to be effective, you need to open up to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.” His therapist responded, laying her pen carefully on her small notebook.
Bucky thought for a moment, taking in the ambience of the room. What would he even say about (Y/N)? He hadn’t seen her in years. Bucky was kicking himself for accidentally bringing her up in his session last week. “I- uh-” he stammered, shifting his weight on the couch, “I met her in 2011. At least I think it was 2011. Date’s get kinda fuzzy sometimes, with all the cryo.” Bucky’s hand pressed against his head, feeling dazed as he tried to think back. “It was at the big HYDRA base outside of Moscow. We had to go on a mission together-” he was cut off,
“Did she work for HYDRA?” Dr Raynor interjected.
“Yea. She was an assassin too. She went by the alias the Viper.” Bucky pretended not to notice his therapist tense up. Anyone who knew anything about HYDRA knew who the Viper was. She was one of the most prolific assassins after the Winter Soldier.
“Tell me more about when you met her.”
“We were instructed to take out a terrorist organisation forming against SHIELD. Which was ironic because we were working for a terrorist organisation. But at this point SHIELD was being run by HYDRA and they couldn’t risk any slip ups, so they put 6 assassins on the job. HYDRA usually didn’t have their assassins working together, we were all too volatile. But we had to take out over 70 people in one night. It was (Y/N), a few assassins from the Red Room, and a few agents that HYDRA had trained personally, and me.” Bucky stopped.
“Where was (Y/N) trained?”
“At a secondary facility run by HYDRA. She was trained from a really young age. It’s all she’s known.” Bucky seemed somber. But his therapist continued,
“What happened on the mission?”
“Nothing. It went exactly to plan. The targets were taken out and we all left without a trace. But (Y/N), she- she kept trying to talk to me, or get to know me. I was the Winter Soldier. No one in their right mind ever tried to ‘get to know me’.”
“Why do you think (Y/N) did that?”
“She told me she was bored.” He replied bluntly.
Moscow
2011
The poorly lit conference room was filled with a myriad of assassins and officials. The only illumination came from old LED lights hanging from the concrete ceiling. The mossy green paint on the walls looked as if it hadn’t been patched up in years. The only new-ish part of the room was the large, oak conference table, surrounded by black, leather seating. It was difficult not to notice the red HYDRA symbol holding a spot on almost every piece of clothing in the area.
“TITAN terroristicheskaya organizatsiya, formiruyushchayasya protiv nas. (TITAN is a terrorist organisation forming against us.)” Kuznetsov spoke, “Izbrannyye budut otpravleny segodnya vecherom v Ukrainu dlya vypolneniya postavlennoy zadachi. Uberi ikh. (The chosen ones will be sent to Ukraine tonight to complete their given tasks. Take them out.)”
That was all it took. You stared at the file in front of you. You had read through it multiple times, going over every single name, every single skill set your targets had. You were more than certain you could complete this job on your own. But you had no choice on the matter.
Your eyes darted around, taking in the faces of the assassins that were to accompany you on your mission. Two youthful females, dressed in black leather sat next to each other. The older, grimacing woman behind them was Madame B., the head supervisor of the Red Room. You moved your gaze to the two agents in dark green uniforms and red, soviet berets. Neither looked particularly menacing.
You finally landed on the last assassin. His dark hair fell like curtains around his face. Gloomy blue eyes searched their way through the room. His sharp jaw seemed tense through his stubbled cheeks. He was large, extremely built. Covering his frame was an amplitude of black clothing and gear.
“Play nice.” Your mentor spoke softly over your shoulder, breaking you from your train of thought.
“I always do.”
~
Your padded snow boots ripped through the thick snow covering the ground. The six of you had hiked your way to the set point on your GPS systems, the clouds of snowfall covering your vision held the illusion that there were absolutely no structures nearby. A large helicopter had dropped the group a few miles out from the hideout to ensure nothing was compromised. The trek was in utter silence, fighting against the harsh temperature in mid February.
The waypoint became closer on your map, a tiny building slowly appeared in your vision against the foggy downfall. It was a small, wooden cabin. Everyone hustled their way through the unlocked door. It was barren, it held no furniture, no blankets, no means of any life. There appeared to be a few doors that led to small, empty rooms. The entrance only held a small fireplace, filled with old cut down logs that had been eaten by bugs.
The group quickly dispersed, you headed to one of the rooms alone, throwing down your belongings onto the floor. The bag you carried was mainly filled with weapons and ammunition, along with a very warm sleeping bag. You knew too well you wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, but you would need the extra heat for now.
There was no chatter anywhere in the house. Your mission would begin in 6 hours. Everyone was likely putting together their artillery. You decided to cozy up in your navy sleeping bag for a moment of comfort.
Someone had lit the fire in the lounge. A warm, orange light crept through the cracks in your door. The ambiance was strangely calming for a shitty cabin in the middle of nowhere.
Snow continued to fall against the tiny glass pane of your room. You weren’t a fan of assassinating in the snow. It was low vision, harsher climates, and it lessened the ability to move. Snakes weren’t creatures of the cold. Conveniently you’d been grouped with someone who called himself ‘The Winter Soldier’. I’m sure he loves the cold, you thought.
You’d heard a lot about him. Everyone had. He was the perfect assassin. He never failed a mission, his body didn’t reject cryo, every form of enhancement HYDRA had used on him had been a success. He was what every assassin had aspired to be.
Without thought, you grabbed the glass bottle laying next to you and walked off to the room the Winter Soldier had claimed for the night.
“Privet (Hello)”. You announced, pushing his door open with a creak. His head didn’t turn towards you. He sat on the floor, the sound coming from him indicated he was sharpening knives.
“Khochesh’ vypit’? (Want a drink?)” You asked, motioning the bottle towards him.
He stayed silent for a moment. Finally he turned, looking up at you from his position on the floor. “What is it?” His dark tone asked back. The amber light from the fire crashed against his features. His strong jaw was covered with a dark stubble, his brunette hair tucked behind his ears. His most obvious feature was the hauntingly blue eyes that sat in sunken sockets, he looked drained.
“It’s vodka.” You stated, honestly. You were surprised to hear he wasn’t Russian, he sounded… American?
“You’re drinking before a mission?” He queried.
You shrugged. “Alcohol doesn’t freeze.” You sat down next to him. “Plus it takes the edge off.” A faint clinking noise announced as you placed the bottle on the floor between you two. He stared at you for a moment, before quietly going back to his knives.
“Wanna play 20 questions?” You interrupted the silence.
“No.”
“What about truth or dare?”
“I’m not 14.” the soldier replied, his eyes not leaving his handy work.
“How old are you?” You shot back,
“Why are you trying to get to know me?” He dodged your question.
“I’m bored.” You shrugged, taking a deep swig of the vodka. “And by my calculations,” you peered down at your watch, “we still have 3 hours and 27 minutes until the mission starts.”
He gave a shallow sigh, “93.”
“What?”
“I’m 93. How old are you.”
“93?! You were born in 1917?”
“Mhm. How old are you.”
“25. You look great for 93.” You chuckled.
“You look old for 25.” He jabbed back. His knife sharpener still grinding across a 6 inch blade.
“You flatter me.” You replied sarcastically. “So what’s your story? How’d you make it to 93?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Why would I ask if I didn’t want to know?”
Bucky looked over at you. “I’m telling you, you don’t want to know.”
“C’mon old man, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” You smirked. He once again, went back to his knives. It almost seemed as if he was trying to threaten you, pulling out larger knife after larger knife.
You huffed, opening your mouth to speak, “I was born in Hungary to a drug abusing mother, and an absent father. I was kidnapped and sold to HYDRA when I was 6. I was placed under the care of the Kraken. Not sure if you’ve met him, he’s this large guy-”
“I’ve met him.” Bucky stated, interrupting your spiel.
“Right, well, he trained me for years. Eventually HYDRA got involved again and I was tested on, experimented on, messed with, ya’ know, all that fun stuff.” You explained.
“Are you enhanced?” Bucky asked, almost as if he was actually interested.
“Yea. I have this whole snake venom trick. It’s great for up close combat. The experiments really should’ve killed me though. But maybe that’s what makes us so good-” Bucky looked over at the woman next to him, her bright eyes stared back at him as she spoke “ya’ know, the best assassins are the ones living off borrowed time. Because we’ve met death before, so we’re not afraid to do it again.”
Bucky quickly grabbed the Barrett M82 rifle next to him, his metal arm making faint whirring noises. “I’m going to scope out the base.” He stated bluntly. And with that, his large black boots walked him out the bedroom, and out the door.
You let out a faint sigh, creeping back to your room to sort out your weapons. You were sure it was something you said that scared him off. I guess at 93 you have to be living off too much borrowed time, you speculated. You absentmindedly set up your pistols, your mind not being able to wander from the Winter Soldier. Maybe annoying the Red Room girls would get your mind off it.
Careful metal fingers that had power to choose between someones life or death mere hours ago, now closed gently around a doorknob, pushing with a delicate force as to make no sound.
Dirt covered boots entered the hallway, a tired sigh leaving Bucky’s lips as he quietly moved to the bathroom. He plucked his sweaty and bloody clothes off his body, tossing his boots in a corner before stripping naked and letting the warm water wash the blood away.
The sound of the water droplets echoed through your mind, your tired eyes refusing to close and fall asleep. You had been up for hours, staring hopefully at the door for him to show up to dinner like he had promised.
Of course, it ended like it always did. You had stopped worrying when he came home late, slipping under the covers when you felt like it and eating your dinner alone.
There were days when he would indeed show up, but even those days you wished he hadn’t. The stretched silence would slice through the air, chewing and sighs filling the rest of the night as you both silently climbed into bed without a word.
At first, he would bother to pull you close to him as he fell asleep, an almost inaudible sniff and sigh passing his lips in content as he would visibly relaxed against you. He would tell you, even when it wasn’t the same, that you were his only peace in this life. You, and the house he had suggested to move into mere years ago.
It was never easy, living with Bucky Barnes, but back then, at least you were trying to hold it all together. Now, it seemed like ‘I love you’s’ were being thrown around like greetings, a silent attempt to keep each other satisfied but never truly meant with the heart.
A year ago, he would leave a sticky-note with a little message, most of the time a ‘Good morning ’ , but nevertheless one where you knew he would come back.
Now, you would wake up in the morning and only feel sheets that were cold for hours, no notes or texts. Calls went unanswered, promises lost its truth, and skin went untouched.
Weeks went by without sex, until you’d have an argument and resort to angry pounding instead of talking it out. Fights never went resolved or ever again addressed, apologies just a mere excuse for peace.
The shower that had played as white noise during your thoughts had stopped, cutting off your train of thought as you picked up the sound of wet feet across the marble floor. You panicked, why would you wait for him?
He always had the tendency to walk naked, but because you barely saw him anymore, him truly naked you couldn’t even remember. The places where tiny scars littered his body, where you used to trace your fingertips, went forgotten. The way he used to call you sweet nicknames because he knew you hated them, but now missed dearly, was just a fragment of the past.
The inevitable creaking of the door made Bucky cringe, the promise of fixing it one day flitting in his mind as he tried to look at you laying in bed through the thick, black darkness of the night. Your silhouette was familiar in his mind, the soft rising and falling of your shoulders bringing a peace through him that now couldn’t seem to wash out the bad night he had.
A bloody mission it was, many throats caught in Bucky´s prosthetic as his weapon had been slapped out of his hands. Team mates too busy saving their own asses, Bucky had to force himself to let his old ruthlessness shine through when the masses augmented.
He had been covered in blood from head to toe, and he can’t seem to erase the horror filled eyes of Steve off his mind. He had looked at him like he had when they had encountered each other again after 70 years, scared, broken and worried.
He thought seeing you would help, but it seemed like nothing truly wipes out your sins. Without bothering to dress, he sat down on a chair, focusing all his attention on you to forget the events consuming his thoughts. He knew he would never be able to sleep if he couldn´t push away the horrible screams for mercy of the fallen HYDRA agents. He new they deserved it, those Nazi’s, but they were still human beings, and his horrible past seemed to catch up to him.
You felt his eyes on you, intense and focused, making your heart involuntarily speed up. It thumped loudly against your ears, and you were pretty sure he had heard it. You prepared yourself for yelling, another fight, maybe this time ending in a breakup, but were both relieved and disappointed when he only sighed.
You were disappointed that you weren´t even worth an argument, that he didn´t care that you faked being asleep. He probably was glad you were, so that he could avoid the awkward confrontation you two would have, so he could avoid coming up with an excuse as to why he was late.
Dropping the towel and pulling on some shorts, Bucky silently climbed into bed. He knew that you were awake, and that you knew he knew, but nevertheless he tried his best to be silent. The broken sigh that escaped his lips traveled across the bed, the empty space between you barely enough for it to brush against your back.
He clenched his metal fist, fighting the urge to reach out and brush your hair, pull you close and whiff your familiar perfume that always cleared the smoke clouding his thoughts. The thing he was so afraid of came true : you finally got sick of him. You acted asleep so you wouldn´t have to talk to him, crawling to the very edge of the bed to not touch him, and the fact that he wasn´t mad made it all worse.
Sleep took over both of you, worries about your relationship pushed to the morning as always as the gaping hole between you became cold and empty. Blood splattered across the black of Bucky’s eyelids, his mind distorting slowly into old and painful memories he had managed to forget with difficulty. He tried to stop them, push them back, but they chained him down and buzzed his head.
It was mere minutes later, when a sharp pain shot up your back. You choked back a strangled groan, your tired eyes barely opening to find a sight you hadn´t seen in so long.
His body was rigid and stiff, his chest shooting up painfully as his fists clenched the bed. His eyes were sewn shut in agony as muffled screams escaped his grinding teeth. Sweat glistened on his exposed chest and arms, ragged breathing pushing past chapped lips begging to let the screams out.
As if on instinct, you grabbed one of the pillows and secured it on his prosthetic, putting your full weight on it as you shuffled up to his face. He started thrashing with his limbs, feeling the pressure on his arm and struggling to breathe through the raspy yells. You immediately pulled his head to your chest, his sweaty hair clinging to your face as you closed your eyes and tried your best to calm him down.
Your fingers rubbed softly over his tightened jaw, his free right arm hitting the mattress and occasionally leaving bruises across your body. You rested your chin on top of his head, his scruff tickling your chest as he huffed hurriedly on your neck.
´´Let it out,´´ you whispered. As soon as you let those words out, his teeth parted and the most heart-wrenching screams echoed through the apartment. You stroked his hair, running your fingers through the strands and pushing them out of his face and behind his ears.
Slowly but surely he calmed down, his rigid body slowly relaxing against you. You put the pillow away, his fists unclenching and his arm whirring in panic. You continued stroking his hair and face, his eyes still closed and his breathing still a little fast, panting muffled against your neck.
You almost drifted back into sleep, when he spoke ever so softly, his voice croaking from the screams he pushed out. ´´I’m sorry´´
His fingers grazed over the bruise on your arm, his eyes watering. It had been so long since he had had one of these episodes, and he’s never going to forgive himself for not being able to stop it when he could. The bruises are not the only thing he’s sorry for, but he didn’t have the energy to express himself.
You smiled lazily, tiredly closing your eyes as you stroked his cheek in an attempt to comfort him, as you knew he was beating himself up about it. He always did. ’’Me too.’’
The unbearable silence that had previously consumed him was replaced by the slow, rhythmic thumping of your heart against his ear as he nuzzled his face in your neck, sighing in content. ‘’I love you,’’ he breathed out sincerely, fire building up inside him for your answer.
Maybe this was the last time he would be in your arms, maybe you’d just say it out of pity and the whole awkwardness would just resume the next morning until he had another one of his inevitable nightmares. But he needed you to say it nevertheless.
‘‘I love you too,’‘ you sighed, kissing his crown to show him you meant it,’‘ too much sometimes.’’
In that moment, you both had hope that your love could be saved as you drifted into a peaceful dream.
— Summary: If religion was the safe haven where Bucky found reasons to be alive and see the good in this world again, loving you was where he found the freedom to be more than just expectations once again. Human emotion, connection and need more than anything else. Also, devotion. Bucky already understood that one, but with you, it reached heights he never dreamt of before.
— Word count: 7.5k
— Warning(s):This work is intended for 18+ audiences. Minors, DNI. Explicit depictions of sex. Religious theme. Smut. I do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, or reuploaded on any other platform.This whole monstrosity is @buckspumpkin ’s fault <3
From the moment he met her to the moment they befriended.
Every step of the way, every interaction, smile, deep conversation outside the church, random encounters in the city—Bucky knew it. He was aware of it, and yet, he did it anyway. He fell for the power in your voice, for the mind behind those eyes, for the soft and electrifying touch of your hands. Bucky was presented with temptation and he fought it until he longer wanted to. Until all that was left inside of him was desire, longing, and need. Temptation won, but only because there was no game anymore: Bucky was presented with you in his life, and for the first time in many long years, his life expanded once again.
From the moment Laura brought you to the Church’s congregation party for the holidays and introduced you, he knew he should stay away.
It was the eyes.
Laura pointed at you, and said, “Father, this is Y/n, my best friend who I’m always talking about.”
He had been polite back then. Bit down on his usual winning smile when meeting new people because something about the glint in your eyes hooked a piece of his chest when they met his.
Bucky had given you the polite smile, and said. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you. Nice to meet you, I’m Father James.”
He extended his hand, which you shook without breaking eye contact.
Then, you said: “Nice to meet you, Father,” and Bucky’s insides burned despite the cold weather surrounding him.
That day, he couldn’t escape fast enough.
You were a friend of one of his congregates, so there was no way he could be rude, but every time he glanced in the direction where you were, talking and smiling with other people who frequented the church, your eyes met his and Bucky felt like a deer caught in the headlines.
An animal in the jungle, like one of his favorite documentaries—he suddenly understood the prey when they felt the eyes of tigers and lions on them.
Frozen.
Bucky’s throat felt dry every time you did it. You looked at him over the rim of your cup, and it was like your eyes searched for something, and they could see beyond his cassock and coat.
Whatever you were looking for, Bucky wanted no part in helping you find out.
She’ll be gone by the end of the day, he thought all night long. There’s no need to worry.
If only he knew.
ㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ — ✞ —
ㅤ
It was a fun discovery to learn that while you believed in nothing, you believed in everything at the same time.
It took Bucky three months of meeting you outside the Church when you picked up Laura from the masses and having brief, but sweet exchanges with you to accept the fact that you were a really nice person.
Funny, intelligent, sweet.
He stopped escaping whenever you were around. Stopped running away whenever Laura brought you by force to one of the fairs or events, and surrendered with ease to the reality of it all: apart from your non-belief, you seemed like someone he’d be close friends with.
Which is where you two ended up after he found you drunk at the city square and walked you home.
That was the first conversation ice-breaker. And from then on, Bucky simply accepted you.
Which meant you know popped up outside the church with good beer and the newest thing you were reading about regarding space to talk to him.
For those visits, you usually showed up at the end of the day, after your work hours. You stayed for a couple of hours talking to him about nonsensical things until a real topic was approached and you two shared things that Bucky forgot he thought about sometimes.
“You know, these are starting to feel like my own confessional,” he offered.
You chuckled, hiding behind your beer. He still saw the way your nose scrunched. “I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a compliment or not.”
“It is!” He laughed. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Why wouldn’t—Father. C'mon. Those things are creepy as hell.”
“First of all: blasphemy. Second of all—stop laughing, I’m serious. That was very blasphemous.” He adored listening to your silly laughter. “And second of all: they are not creepy. They’re just… methodic.”
“Yeah, the method being ‘scare people until they talk’. I’ll give it to the Church: clever, at least.”
He’s thinking about that day and the things you said about the hour of Twilight when he hears the doorbell.
Bucky halts everything he’s doing.
It couldn’t be you.
He looks at the clock—00:52.
Fuck.
What were you doing here?
This week had been hell, both figuratively and literally.
The tragedy that happened in the city and the heartache that followed everyone like a dark cloud ended up inside his church, as darkness usually does. It’s where it goes to be diluted, but being the tool of change as he is, Bucky’s the one who ends up feeling like a truck ran over his back.
Itcouldn’t be you.
Bucky heard from Laura about how pissed off you were about everything. 'Religious people and their ways of meddling in people’s lives and their bodies and their ways of handling life’, as you claimed, and everything wrong attached to it.
He hadn’t seen you around the city all week long.
“James Buchanan!”
That is definitely your voice.
Bucky swears under his breath, puts on the first hoodie he sees, and doesn’t even bother checking on his reflection to know he looks like shit.
He’s tipsy and tired, and there’s no need to bother putting out his tobacco before he goes downstairs to open the back door for you.
Out of all the people who could see him in this state, you’d be the last one to judge him.
When he opens the door, he sees you’re on the same boat as he is.
Tired, and trying to cope.
He sighs, opening the door wider. “Thought you had eloped town by now.”
“I unfortunately am stuck to this hell hole.”
Turning around, he sees you taking off your boots and placing them on the shoe rack.
“Put on a slipper, it’s still wet outside,” he tells you. “I was going to bed.”
Behind him, he hears the sound of you scoffing. “No, you weren’t.”
“Yes, I was,” he argues.
What follows is silence, and Bucky sighs. You know him too well.
He opens the door that leads to his small herbs garden outside where two chairs are already placed next to each other and waits for you to make yourself at home.
He wonders if it’s one of thosedays.
“You know… you’re really nice to talk to, Father James.”
He kind of hated when you called him that. It felt teasing. Laced in the taste of wine.
“Do you?”
“I do. You don’t shy away from answering questions. People nowadays don’t wanna have conversations. It’s exhausting. You, though—you… think about it. Answer me. I can talk without feeling like I’m being judged—”
“Oh, sometimes you definitely are.”
He likes your laughter. The more it sounds like this—free and caught off guard, the more delicious it is.
“I’ll take your word for it.That was just me wanting to thank you for being a nice ear, I guess.”
“The same goes for you.”
It’s becoming more and more common for Bucky to be stuck in a memory of you before reality calls him back to the moment.
The door clicks behind him and he looks over his shoulder to see you holding two beers, a cigarette in one hand, and the tiredness in your shoulders.
Dropping your body to the chair next to his, you hand him the beer and then light up your cigarette.
For a while, all you two do is sit there sharing sips of your drinks and looking at the brick wall ahead of you. Bucky’s hyper-aware of you and your movements, as always, and notices from the corner of his eyes when you start distracting yourself with the new flowers in his garden.
It’s when he sees a single tear running down your cheek that his body comes alive.
Bucky feels alert in a second.
Sick to his stomach.
He wants to reach out and clean the tear from your cheek, but it wouldn’t take away the pain that let it fall.
He waits, though, because he knows you wouldn’t be here unless you wanted to talk about it.
Then it hits him—she trusts me.
He has to swallow that pill down with large gulps because it would get stuck in his throat otherwise.
He remembers as clear as day hearing you say how hard it was for you to trust people. To let people in.
“Sometimes, I barely want most people in this town to know I’m a human being. The less they see of me the better, you know? They’re just—fucking vultures. Waiting for a sign of weakness to start roaming your body and getting to pick it apart.”
Through the sips of his beer, Bucky wonders how many people have seen you cry other than him.
You clear his throat next to him, and all thoughts are vacant from his mind.
He turns his head to you, attention solely focused.
“Did you do a mass?” You ask, voice rough as sandpaper.
You’re questioning whether the people who died got a mass this week. Bucky has to breathe through the ’why do you ask, why, but WHY’ and simply answers. “I did, yeah.”
You nod, sniffle and clear your face in your sleeve. “Cool. That’s good.”
Bucky feels he’ll puke if he doesn’t get a little more than that, so he takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he can be brave. “There’ll be a lantern reunion at the lake.”
You turn to him, eyes red and vulnerable, and Bucky has to grip tighter on the can to stop himself from cleaning your tear-stained cheeks once again. “A what?”
“A lantern reunion. It was Laura’s idea, actually,” your friend was a blessing to his congregation, and it made Bucky smile a little to think so. “People from the congregation will go in a fortnight to the city lake a little further in the mountains and light up little candles in their names. Push it into the lake as sort of a goodbye and a desire for good passage.”
“Into heaven?” you ask, smiling sarcastically.
Bucky’s gotten so used to it that it doesn’t even rattle him anymore.
“Into anywhere,” he answers.
The sarcasm drops from your face like rain does out of nowhere from the sky, and you sigh. “That’s nice.”
“Is it?”
“It is.” You take a sip, and Bucky feels it in his chest the blow before it comes. “Naya would’ve loved it. Probably reminded her of Tangled or something like that.”
The name hits clear as day as part of the list Bucky read on Sunday.
“Was she a friend?” He asks.
You shake your head. “Goddaughter.”
Your jawline is sharper than ever before. Razor-sharp. Bucky realizes when he pays attention to more than just your eyes, the usual lovely, deep, and telling eyes, that the rest of your face lacks any of your kindness and softness—you’re angry. Properly raging, he imagines.
It’s the first time he’s seen the emotion on you, and it rattles something in the attics of Bucky’s brain.
Ghosts of his past, of guns, violence, and the range that humans could go to.
“Tell me about her,” the words fall from his lips, and Bucky feels like prey once more when your eyes snap back to him. “If you want to, of course. I—I’d like to hear it.”
For a moment, you only watch him, eyes searching all over his face.
“Why?” You ask.
Bucky shrugs his shoulder, sipping a little more. “Because… offering my condolences won’t do any good, although you do have them. And talking about the occurrence serves no purpose, either.” Both of those options are weak at best. “Hearing about who your goddaughter was, on the other hand, sounds nice.” He wonders how close you two were. Was she the daughter of a best friend? Bucky knew you had no sisters. “D'you have sisters?” He asks to confirm. “I thought you didn’t.”
The ghost of a real smile appears on your face. “I don’t.”
“Right.”
“She's—was… she was my best friend’s daughter. Hugh.” The smile turns more real than ghost-like. “He and I have been friends since middle school.”
Wow. That’s longer than Bucky’s been in this town. “That is a long time.”
“Notthat long, c'mon Father. Don’t call me old.”
Bucky laughs. “You’re not a sweet summer child, that’s for sure.”
“Wow!” You say, joining him in laughter.
“Your generation is a mystery to me, I’ll tell you that.”
“Ugh—there you go again with 'your generation’. You’re not that much older than me, Father,” you give him a pointed look.
Bucky hums. “I beg to differ. There’s more than a decade bridging this,” he gestures between you and him.
“Fine,old man. Whatever you say,” you chuckle, and sip the rest of your beer, crushing the can in your hands. “Anyway. Hugh’s not usually here—he works two towns over most of the time.”
“Is he married?” He asks out of curiosity.
You shake your head. “Nope. Naya’s mom was a fling.”
“Got it.” From that, he deduced you had a lot to do with the girl while growing up. “Was she a lot like you?”
You laugh. “A mix of Hugh and me, yeah. I spoiled her quite a lot.”
Bucky smiles. “Tell me more.”
And you do.
Bucky listens to you tell him about Naya, and she comes to life inside his mind.
He saw the picture of everyone involved, but now he can see the glint she had in her eyes, the quirks you mention, the passions in her heart.
He does his best to stay present in the conversation, letting go of any pain related to the tragedy in order to give you a good ear as you mentioned he has.
It hurts almost as much as if he was thinking about it all.
The oscillations in your smile between heartbroken and sad, and heartfelt. He feels the changes like shrapnel under his skin.
After a few more beers, the talk changes every now and then. From kids to raising them without parents, to the dangers surrounding newer generations—like always, talking to you is a rollercoaster of topics, and Bucky thinks he’s done a good job of taking your mind out of the dark places it was.
Until you stop, look at the wall in front of you again, and the tears start streaming down again.
Bucky’s heart breaks all over the wet ground, getting dirt all over the pieces.
He’s closing the distance between your bodies before he thinks better of it.
His arms wrap around your shoulders and you bury your face in his chest, letting go of your pain in the safe space of his arms.
Bucky lets you cry for as long as you need to, and when the quiet sobs diminish to only your sniffling, he still holds you close.
“I feel… like barbed wire. I don’t know.” Your voice is thick with emotion, and Bucky squeezes around you subconsciously. “There’s so much rage inside me, Buck.”
“That’s okay. It’s the normal thing to fill you.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew all the things I’m thinking. I—I’m not the best person ever, but the things I’d do right now…”
Bucky shakes his head. You’re human, he thinks. “You’re a good person even with those thoughts.”
“You don’t know that,” you argued.
“I do, though,” Bucky counters. “All the things you want are a response, not an initiative. That’s how I know.”
At that, you stay in silence. Bucky feels you moving your head—before, you had your forehead resting against his chest, but now you move your head to the side and lay your cheeks against him, making yourself comfortable.
“You’d judge me, though,” your voice is barely above a whisper. “They’re horrible things.”
Bucky scoffs. “I’ve done my fair share of horrible things in life, Y/n. I’ll never be in any position to truly judge someone else,” he tells you.
Then it hits him—I trust her too.
“I don’t believe that,” you whisper.
“It’s the truth.” Bucky’s past is his own, but he allows you to have this. “I was a tool for a long time, one that did many wrong things. I hardly think that you wanting to kill the people who did this with your bare hands is something so atrocious.”
“I’d think you’d judge upon murder, Father.”
“Not my place to do so,” and if he was being honest with himself, never would be. The things he believed in were symbolic.
“Is this what a confessional feels like?” you ask with a chuckle.
Bucky rests his head on top of yours. “It’s the idea.”
“I like it. It’s not so bad.” You take a deep breath, and Bucky feels it.
I like it too, he thinks. Why does it feel mutual?
“D'you want some food?” he asks. He needs something to do with his hands that doesn’t involve holding you.
It takes you a moment to answer. “Sure.” You pull your head back a few inches to look up at him, and the smile he sees in your eyes takes his breath away. “Thanks, Father.”
This feels as holy as any of my prayers.
Bucky feels dizzy.
“Thanks for trusting me,” he answers, and then lets you go. His arms feel empty and cold the minute they leave your frame. “C'mon. I’ll make us sandwiches.”
“That’s not food,” you argue behind him.
“It is in this house,” he rolls his eyes, knowing you’re just doing it to tease him. “Ungrateful youth, I swear.”
“I’m not being ungrateful, I’m being factual. You know, back during the Roman Empire in Grece, they…”
ㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ — ✞ —
ㅤ
The night of grief changes nothing and everything at the same time.
Bucky knew you were a person beneath all the exterior of perfection, but it takes seeing you cry for him to realize why he deemed everything he saw to be that way—he saw beauty even in your imperfections. He met you by chance, befriended you by fate, and because the Universe wrote you and him to be this way, something about your existence read as beautiful from top to bottom. Breathtaking. It never occurred to him that he’d find something else to look at and see unadulterated and raw light, but there you were. Whether it was talking to friends, working, running past him at eight in the morning, or crying in his arms, the aura around you glowed in holy light, and Bucky had only one night of absolute existential crisis before acceptance washed over him.
He might have found his peace in god, but the god he believed in never excluded the Nirvana existing in love.
Accepting things as they were hurt much less.
Everything about him felt holy.
The whole month you stayed away from him, that’s all you could think about.
Bucky felt holy. His blue eyes on you, the gentleness in his words, and the shy cocking of his neck whenever he was under the light of a compliment—holy, holy, holy.
That’s why you hated how much you desired to corrupt all the purity within every thought permeated by him.
It made you a little sick at first. Desiring him and still talking to him normally as if you didn’t touch yourself to thoughts of Bucky fucking you and stretching you around his cock while filth dripping from his lips was a hard task, but no one could say you were one to shy away from a challenge.
All of that goes away when he cooks for you.
Theshame in wanting him.
From that day on, you allow your mind to drift wherever it pleases.
To his words, his eyes, his lips, the feeling of how strong his arms were — how did I miss that, what is that damn black thing hiding, why does it feel so warm and firm, oh my god — and anything in between. His voice. The way he curses under his breath as if Jesus is not listening if he talks low enough. How much lower his voice can go.
Letting all those thoughts roam free is both a blessing and a curse.
When you see him the day following a dream where Bucky did all the things your mind wanted him to and a bit more, you realize where the curse part walks in.
It’shard looking him in the eye when you have vivid images of his hand gripping your neck. It’s sad that all you have is images, but they’re more than enough to make you take a step back every now and then.
You can’t get wet if you don’t get a whiff of his perfume.
Can’t feel embarrassed and hot all over if he doesn’t make one of his silly jokes under his breath.
It takes you a few weeks of escaping him here and there before you receive it, at 11:50 pm on a Monday night:
What would you say if I told you I need my confessional bubble?
The message stares at you, and you stare back.
The feeling of his hug around you comes to you like the scent of someone being dragged by the wind.
Where are you?
The church. I was organizing some stuff. Come over?
Not one to say no to him, you drive there with your heart beating in your palms and the familiar knot on your throat of someone haunted by their own thoughts.
At the church, you find Bucky with a glass in his hands and all the pictures and remains of the shrines packed in one corner.
“Evening, Father.”
Bucky turns around sharply, and you see that he’s not drunk nor tipsy yet. His look is sober, and his eyes lighten in color when they see you.
“Hey.” He points to the stuff on the floor. “I’m gonna put this in the back. I’ll be back in a minute—you’re very fast. How fast did you drive?”
Probablytoo fast because I was anxious. “Maybe you’re just slow, Father James.”
Bucky’s eyes narrow, and your mind goes oh-oh. He looks at you with narrowing eyes, but then the mirth is back on his face. “Ha ha.” He picks up the boxes. “I’ll be back.”
“Won’t I burn in your absence?” You call after him, trying to contain your smile.
Bucky looks over his shoulder just so you can see him rolling his eyes.
You chuckle. Was there even a need to be nervous?
This is Bucky.
James.Father James. He’s a good guy, and a great friend, and a pretty funny person for someone who is so mysterious.
In his absence, you start walking aimlessly through the church.
You’re here very rarely. Paying attention to the details of it is not the first thing in your mind but, with nothing to do, you notice all the beauty in the place: the colorful glasses, how polished and shiny the wood benches and every other wood surface looks, and then it catches your eyes.
On the far right corner, close to the altar, there it is.
The confessional.
You’re walking to it before you notice what you’re doing.
It’s bigger than you expected.
Your hand comes up to touch the wood and its patterns—the velvet drape which closes one of the sides is blood red, and you raise both eyebrows at it.
Gorgeous.
The other side is closed with a wooden door, though. You imagine it’s where the priest enters, and because you’re friends with the one who runs this church, you let yourself in.
The space is big enough to fit two adults if they’re squeezed close together.
You take a seat, looking over the side where you can see very little from the open spots in the wood.
Then, you hear his footsteps coming back out there.
“Y/n?” He calls out, sounding confused.
You think about coming out, but then…
Confessional bubble.
You open the door minimally, put only your hand outside, and wave. “Here,” you singsong.
There’s a second of silence in which you wonder if Bucky is genuinely offended for the first time about something you’re doing, but then you hear his laughter approaching.
You hear his body passing through the drapes and sitting next to you.
“Not where I’d expect to find you,” he says from the other side.
It’s with the first sentence that you realize what a terrible, miscalculated, poor idea this was.
Your senses go from 0 to 100 in a second. They’re all tunneled to his voice, and you can smell his perfume permeating the small space.
“Y/n?”
“I was curious,” you answer. Your voice is low, and you swallow down the nervousness. It should be fine. What could go wrong? “Plus… this seems like a cool bubble.”
“I told you it was, you never trusted me in that,” he answers.
You chuckle. “I didn’t know about all the velvet.” And the stripping of your senses. God, I feel dizzy.
“It’s charming, isn’t it?”
You are, your traitorous mind replies. “Yup.” You take a deep through your mouth and let it out slowly. “What was in your mind, young padawan?”
Bucky laughs. “Wrong religion.”
“Right, my bad—what’s in your mind, my sheep?”
“You’re not so bad at this.”
“And you’re great at deflecting,” you bite back, smiling already. Your body relaxes on its seat, and you start picking on your t-shirt. “I thought you wanted to talk.”
“I did.” Bucky hums. “Didn’t think you wanted to, though.”
What?“What?”
“I was gonna ask you to go grab a bite with me so I could hear how you’ve been doing these past couple of weeks. I haven’t seen much of you,” his voice sounds a little small, and you hate yourself for a second. “I imagine you’re busy.”
Does trying to get rid of thoughts of you naked count as busy?
You bite your bottom lip nervously. “Not that busy,” you reply. “Just… processing.”
“Right. I thought about that too,” he says. Bucky takes a deep breath and you can hear that too. “I just… missed your company.”
You smile at that. “Awn. Thanks, Buck. I missed you too.”
“Did you?”
“Of course,” you say. “You know I like company better than most. More than, like, 99% of this town, for sure.”
“I’m flattered,” he chuckles. “I thought I did something wrong, that’s all. I—you’d tell me if I had, right?”
That ties knots inside your brain. Your neurons seem to clash with each other, and you look from side to side trying to find out if that was a joke.
“What could you possibly have done to me?” You ask with laughter.
“Dunno.” Bucky seems to be thinking, so you wait. “I can be annoying sometimes.”
“Have you met me?”
He laughs again. “You’re peculiar.”
“Most people go for 'annoying’.”
“Most people are pussies,” he replies back so quickly that you burst out laughing.
“Father James!” You tell him in a reprehending tone. “This is not the place for such language.”
“I think you’ll find out that we’re in the only place of holy grounds where you can say whatever the fuck you want,” he chuckles.
“Is that so?”
You can almost see him shrugging his shoulders. “It’s how I always felt.”
“Cool. This is the blind spot, then?”
“Exactly.” Bucky seems to be tapping on the wood, and you recognize his nervous tick. “Maybe you can use the blind spot to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me, then.”
Shit.
The silence is as much of a confession as you trying to play it dumb would be.
“Y/n…”
You hate how he makes your name sounds like a plea.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you tell him. “I swear.”
There’s a heartbeat of silence, and Bucky seems to believe you. “Okay.” The sound of a thud tells you he rested his head against the wall at the back, and you do the same. “So… did something happen? To you, I mean.”
Yeah, you did.
Thinking that’s not the reply he wants, you hum thoughtfully. “I’m… trying to work with life’s limitations.”
There’s another moment of quiet, and then Bucky snorts. “That was vague as shit, Y/n.”
“It’s the truth!” you laugh.
“I know it is, but it doesn’t explain anything,” he counters. “What limitations?”
How do I answer this? How do I tell him it’s him without putting him under the spotlight? I don’t wanna lose you, Bucky. I like what we have. I like this.
You like him.
“No judgments. Remember?” He asks.
Fuck. Fine, here goes nothing, you think. “I… have been thinking a lot. About someone. In ways that I’m not sure this person would want me to.”
Out of all the silences, this is the heaviest one.
You hear him breathing in deep, and it feels like his body has strings attached to yours.
“You’re insecure about having… feelings for this person?” His voice is rough. Carefully curated out of any emotions.
You realize you’re speaking to Father James rather than Bucky.
“Kinda,” you reply, surprised that you don’t care about the switch in roles.
“Why would they be bothered?”
The million-dollar questions.
Your palms are sweating. Your body has the low humming of when blood is pumping everywhere at a higher speed, and all the anxiety you had when you first saw his message rushes back.
“'Cause I’m pretty sure they’d view it as… something bad,” you reply.
“Feelings are never bad.”
“No?”
“No. They’re natural. The person might not want them, but if they view them as bad, that means they’re not worthy of it.”
“No—what I meant is—maybe they would feel bad about being on the receiving end of it.”
“Again, that makes no sense. Why would they be offended by it?”
“I don’t know. 'Cause they don’t want me?”
“That’s their loss. Still doesn’t mean your feelings are bad. They could be unreciprocated, but never bad.”
“Maybe that’s what I’m scared of,” you confess. Fuck, this thing works. “I don’t wanna face the fact that it could never be mutual.”
“Thatis scary,” he whispers. You still hear it.
“Yeah.”
“You’ll never know, though. Unless you tell them, you can’t know if it is or not.”
You laugh, humorlessly. “I don’t think I need to. Not for this.”
“Why not?” asks Bucky.
“Because the chances of him wanting me or anything are slim to none.”
“I find that hard to be true, Y/n.”
“What percentage of priests lead a personal life outside their calling, Father James?”
The question comes out breathless and it finishes the job of setting your body on fire.
On the other side, the silence is deafening. You can’t see him, but your mind paints the picture easily: Bucky standing there, frozen in his spot as the realization dawns on him.
Then, his reply comes and what was left of your body turns to dust.
“A low percentage. But some of us do.”
You have to bite your bottom lip to swallow a whine. His name still comes out. “Bucky.”
“You’ve been thinking about me all this time and you thought I would be upset about it?” He sounds breathless. Your body is not only alive now, but it’s also starting to respond to the drop in his voice.
“They’re not very holy thoughts,” you chuckle humorlessly.
“Tell me.”
Two words and your legs constrict against one another. Your core feels like a furnace, heating up more and more by the second.
“I… are you serious?”
“Very.” Bucky sounds as affected as you. “Tell me what thoughts were so bad they drove you away from me.”
“I… I had dreams.” You want to touch yourself so badly that you start squirming in your seat. “About you.”
All he does is hum in reply.
“You kissed me. And then… you told me I was going to accept all that you wanted to give me. And I said yes. So you started to get… more—of me. You took off my clothes. And said you needed to let out some… steam. To let out some things that have been inside of you.”
There, your words were cut short.
The images of Bucky kneeling in front of you and eating you out like he never had a meal before in his life.
“Go on,” his voice breaks through the smoke.
It sounds like an order.
Your body shudders, and you try to grip on reality before the dreams take over. “You ate me out.” The whisper sounds louder than any of his sermons you had the pleasure of hearing. “And…” I can’t say it. I can’t. You can feel the wetness dripping to your panties, and you have to sit on top of your hands to stop them from starting to roam your body.
“Finish it.”
Where did he learn to command people like that?
“I asked to do the same.” How could you not? All you wanted was to choke on the weight of Bucky on your tongue. “And then you fucked me. Slowly. And… kept telling me about how long it had been. How good it felt to stretch me out.” Why am I going into details? You whimper. “Bucky.”
“Is that why you were away? You dreamt about me being inside of you and that’s it—your brain stopped working around me?”
“I got off to those dreams too many times to not think about them when I saw you.”
“Fuck.” Bucky must move next to you because you hear the sound of his clothes ruffling. “You touched yourself thinking about them?”
“Yeah.”
You hear his breath intake, and the next sound drops your heart to your feet.
Bucky gets up, the drapes ruffle and then, the door of the confessional is opening.
The sight of Bucky standing tall over you with his black t-shirt tucked inside his pants and the tent of his dick straining against his slacks makes your mouth dry before it starts to water.
“Show me,” says Bucky. Then he drops to his knees in front of you, reaches both hands to your knees, and places them there. He looks up into your eyes to ask, “Can I?” and you nod, dumbly and shaking, as Bucky spreads your knees open. You’re wearing loose pants, and his hands go further up to their hem so he can pull them down.
Allowing him to leave you in nothing but your panties feels like a fever dream.
With your pants pooling in your ankles, Bucky lets hands drag on the skin of your legs and thighs.
“You’re right,” he says. “It’s been years.” His hands reach your waist, and your shaking comes to a halt with the firmness that they touch your pelvis bones. “And yet, I think I’ve thought more about pleasure and connection these past months than I did my whole life.” Bucky moves his body closer until he’s nestled between your legs, and when his head inches closer to your cunt you realize what he’s about to do, whining at the thought. “I dreamt about this, too.”
He presses his nose on the hood of your pussy, inhaling deeply and making your legs turn from solid to liquid.
Bucky runs his nose there, and when he hums against your core, you feel it inside of you. “You smell so fucking good, dove.”
“Oh,god.”
Bucky gropes your ass and shakes his head. “No. Forgot my name already?”
“James, please. Please,” you whine, your legs coming up to his shoulders.
He lets you, helping your legs to secure around his neck, and when you look down and see he’s smiling, you know you’re fucked.
“It’s been a while, so let me take my time. I think I still remember how to do this,” Bucky says.
Then, he pushes your panties to the side and groans out loud.
“So fucking wet for me. Shit.” He pushes his nose again, getting it wet with your slick. “Fuck,” he dives in.
Bucky’s tongue gives gentle licks against your clit, as if savoring it first.
When he feels your legs spreading wider and he has more room to work with, he truly starts his job. His tongue licks on your folds, then dips from the bottom all the way up, licking a stripe across your cunt before his mouth attaches itself to your clit.
Bucky sucks on the hard nub with his tongue, alternating between slow and hard-pressured jabs to quick flicks of his tongue from side to side.
Your hands are covering your mouth to stop the screams from coming out.
He slurps on the slick and the more the works his tongue on your clit and then pushes down to your open cunt, the wetter you get.
Time ceases to exist with Bucky knelt between your legs.
He goes slow, then fast, then very slow just to hear your whines getting louder. He laughs in your pussy, and the vibrations crawl up inside of you.
At one point he looks up and with a hard grope on the back of your thighs gets your attention on him again.
His beard is glistening, wet. He’s smiling like he’s seeing something funny for the first time in ages, and when he asks, “Do you like penetration?” as if he doesn’t know the answer, you feel like crying.
“Please.”
He takes pity on you. “It’s okay, dove.” Bucky’s right hand leaves your legs and his fingers join his mouth between your legs. He coats his fingers in your slick before he pushes the middle one all the way in, slowly at first, then he removes it all the way and pushes back in with his tongue.
“Bucky!”
“Hmhm,” he hums against your pussy. “Is this what you dreamt of, dove?” He asks before latching onto you again and sucking on your clit like it’s a lollipop.
The coil in your lower stomach seems like a rubber band ready to snap, but you need more.
“Bucky. Bucky,” you call.
“Hm?”
“I wanna cum with you inside me. Please?”
Bucky’s hand squeezes involuntarily on your leg. He looks up and kisses your inner thigh. “You do?”
“Please.”
“Will you let me take you for a bite afterward since I couldn’t help myself and I’m doing everything backward?” He asks, already getting up.
You nod a bit desperately. “I’ll let you bite anything, just—please.”
He laughs. “Get up.”
You do, and it’s a tight squeeze to switch places with him, but you two manage. Bucky sits on the place you sat and unbuttons his pants, pulling out his cock from the confine of his briefs.
You step out of your pants and sit on his lap, trying to keep all the feelings daring to pool out inside while you feel like everything about you is already stripped bare in front of him.
“You sure you want this, yeah?” I asked.
At that moment, Bucky pulls you close by his waist. It’s almost easy (keyword being almost) to ignore the outline of his hard cock between your legs when he’s holding your face like this.
There’s barely any light illuminating the inside of the confessional, but there is enough for you to see him glowing. Glistening. Smiling like he’s watching something unfold.
He holds your face in his hand and pulls you in for a kiss.
I hadn’t kissed him yet.
Bucky kisses you with slow, soft tenderness at first.
It’s almost his way of saying he means everything—he means this, and he means what he said about being a part of the cleric who still allows themselves to have a life outside their work.
When his tongue opens up your mouth sinfully, that’s when you feel him twitch underneath you.
His arm around your waist pulls you even closer, and you get him. You’d want to merge with him right now if you could.
“Put me inside you,” he pulls back his face only a few inches to say those words, then dives in for another kiss.
Your mind is too dizzy with everything that is James to do anything but obey.
You reach beneath you to hold his cock in your hands and guide it to your entrance.
Perhaps you should care that none of you discussed the important things you should have before you let him inside you, raw and deep like this, but all you want is this:
Feeling him stretch you out.
When his tips fit and you can let go, both of you groan at the same time. He’s big.
He’s thick, and he’s leaking, and when the tip pushes in, gliding easy with how wet you are, you have to pull back from his kiss so you can breathe.
Bucky groans louder and hides his face in the crook of your shoulder.
“You’re big,” you whisper, sliding down further until he’s bottomed out. “Oh my…” can’t call out for Jesus, but you’re still shaking and finding a new reason to worship right there and then. You might be drunk on desire, or drunk on how high Bucky made you by eating you out, or how close you were to cumming before he made you get up. Maybe all of the above. “Father James—feels so good.”
The slap comes as a surprise, but the sting and your scream are both pleasurable.
“Don’t call me that again,” he growls. He bites your neck, and moves his hip for the first time.
“Why not,” you whine. It feels so good. You feel so full. “Feel so full, Bucky.”
“I know, dove.” He bucks his hip upwards, thrusting deep and slow. “You’re so fucking tight,” his voice is strained, and you pull his face back to yours, cupping his neck. With his eyes on yours, Bucky’s face softens. “Feels good?” He asks with another pointed thurst.
You nod, riding him in the same rhythm as his thrusts. “Hmhm.”
“You look beautiful on top of me,” he mutters, kissing your chin, you cheeks, and your eyelids, each kiss pointed with another deep thrust.
“We’re gonna do this again, right?”
Bucky hums, and thrusts harder. FUCK.
“Ah, there it is,” he mutters, as if talking to himself. “Was looking for that.” He thrusts again, confirming to see if he’s found your g spot. The way you clench and moan his name are enough of an answer. “We’ll do this many more times. I just—need—fuck, need to do this proper.” Bucky pins your hips in place and takes over the movements. “Shouldn’t be fucking you, dove. Not here, not like this.”
“I’mso fucking wet, Buck,” you cry. “You wouldn’t let me go home to get off thinkin'—oh—about you—fuck, right there;”
“I wouldn’t?”
“Bucky.” It’s louder than before. Both a moan and a prayer.
His thrusts become more erratic, and Bucky’s own moans and prayers start sounding much like yours.
So tight, dove. Fucking made for me. Stop clenching your pussy, Y/n, fuck. I’m gonna fill you up, d'you want that? Hm?
“Don’t pull out,” you whine.
“No?”
“No.” You shake your head. He should, your mind says. I don’t care, your body responds, hips going harder to meet his harsh thrusts.
“Want to feel me leaking out of you?”
Fucking hell. Where was this holy mouth hidden? “Yes!”
“Say it,” Bucky’s grunting, and his forehead is sparkling with sweat, and you feel the sweat dripping down your back.
“Wanna feel you dripping out of me, Buck.”
“Fucking—Y/n, I’m gonna cum. Are you close, dove?” He holds you by the neck, and brings your mouth to his. “Tell me how to make you cum. Tell me.”
“Hard. Deep.”
Bucky’s a good listener anywhere. He pins your hip in one place, buries himself as deep as he can go inside of you and mutters about how good it is to feel your cunt stretching out around his cock, then pistons his hips in place just like that, hitting that spot inside of you so mercilessly that you’re excused to scream as much as you do.
When you yell that you’re gonna cum, all he says is, “Please. Please, dove. Show me. Cum for me. Cum only for me, Y/n.”
With another scream that leaves your throat aching, you feel your walls convulsing and your legs shaking as an orgasm knocks you out.
Bucky cums by muffling his own screams in your neck, and you feel the warmth of him spilling inside of you.
If there were any ways for you to not surrender and devote to him, they’re all burned and gone.
This feels like the beginning of all things holy for you.
“I’ve got everything figured out, but you’ve got to be the one to help.” The leader of the group looked at his friend dead in the eye.
“No.” The ex-spy said, as he rolled his eyes, not allowing his friend, and tactician, to finish this sentence.
“Come on! It won’t cost you anything!” Another one of his friends claimed.
“No!” The grumpy man’s voice radiated finality. He wasn’t going to go back.
“You’re the only one of us who isn’t exactly known.” The redheaded woman said.
“I already said no! Now leave me alone.” The bite in his words didn’t go unnoticed by the others.
“Just hear him out!” His best friend begged, his eyes pleading.
“Fine. You’ve got thirty seconds.”
“28, a librarian. 3 cats, 3 dogs. From a rich family, had a hard childhood, hates the family. Single for 28 years of her life. Was in live once, when she was a kid. She’s our only way in. You’re the only one whose face isn’t plastered up on billboards, you’re the only one who can seduce her. ”
“What’s her name?”
“Y/N Y/L/N” He took the picture into his hands, looking at her. Her eyes seemed somewhat familiar to him. He didn’t know what could be familiar. She is just an ordinary librarian after all.
“Wait, where are we trying to get in this time, Stark?”
“The CIA.”
“Why?” He was suspicious. A CIA librarian is still just a librarian. He knew they are planning something, and that, since they desperately wanted him to participate, it was something big. Why would his friends, a bunch of scientists, actors, and rich kids, who have been leading the secret life of spies and criminals for ages, be up for THIS?
“There are some…unresolved businesses between me and them.”
“From your early hacking days?”
“Yes.”
“Alright. I’ll help.” He sighed.
“Welcome back, Spy Barnes!”
“Yeah. I’m back.”
——-
A/N: I’ve got exams until Friday, as soon as that passes, I’m posting as much as I can. I had to write it, since no one else did
